Feed The Flow…

It is of hope to me that some would come to discover that the most impenetrable landscape, that the most unusual adventures are the ones seen and experienced from within.

Clearly creativity springs from something that rises, rolls, surges, and spills into us rather than from something that just stands there hoping that we might, however circuitously, find our way to it.  In this sense we never “lose” our creativity.  It is always there, filling us or else colliding with whatever obstacles are placed in its path.  If it finds no inlet to us, it backs up, gathers energy, and pushes forward until it breaks through.  The only way we can muster its insistent energy is to spin it in a positive way as to continuously mount barriers against it, this is so it can be diverted away from the channels that are poisoned by the destructiveness of negativity and negligence. 

If we are gasping for creative energy; if we have trouble holding onto the imaginative, the morality of our own creation; if we struggle to focus on our personal vision, acting on it, or following through with it, then something has gone wrong at the spring of the source, between the headwaters and the tributary. Perhaps one’s creative waters are flowing through a polluted environment, whereas the pollywogs of imagination are killed off before they can grow into maturity. But more so than not, if creativity is bereft of constant flow, sometimes you have to let it build, like a pile of driftwood gathering from a Spring runoff, holding its own, until it’s time had to come to break the damn levee…

My mind may have well gone ahead and volunteered for any one of the dozen marathons going on this time of year. It was moving constant and in all directions. These marathon states, how should I describe their phenomena? In a marathon state I infinitely lack something, my heart swells to the point of sickness, it feels like a tearing eagerness ripping at the fabric of my being. This two and a half, “going on twenty” year journey into the creative depths of myself has bled through a lot of things that spill from the core of me.

The sentient part of my soul often wishes to express itself in ways most are not accustomed to. There are some symptoms of an overdose of caffeinated emotion. Or it could be that these butterflies intermingled with a heavy heart and lightheadedness were just some subtle vibrational twitches in the direction of all things synchronistic and full of surprise. I have at times had sense of being the instrument of a higher power. I often feel that I’m either being used as an example of human error or as a mere shadow of the suitable things to come. Which in the sense of excitement and deliberate expectation, was pushing me closer to the edge.

I was not so completely unrealistic that I failed to ask myself whether by a sensible person I meant myself. It was evident I had become one of those proud sensitive kind of gentlemen who liked to give so much trouble because I have been adorned with this passion for such internal matters that seem of slight interest to any so-called sensible person.

As I found my way swimmingly to the edge of the bank, I gathered my things with what little bit of wit I had left. My smile went wide with the framework of contentment. I had fallen under the influence of all things speculative and metaphysical. It was time to approach the premises of universal eagerness, asserting that the appearance of mankind on this earth as a whole, was a good thing, a little bit more immature and held to a lower lack of accountability then generations passed, but nonetheless curable in the esoteric sense.

I was starting to become keen again, to the peculiarity of things, within the depths of which certain secular tendencies often touched on “not” telling the truth. It’s these thoughts that sent my mind into frenzy nowadays, with their accelerating rhythms and paradisiacal philosophical deliriums that provoked the explosion of layers of an unknown consciousness deep within me. It was my hope that by reducing the strength of these outlying forces, that I might not run through the fire, perpetually on the edge of chaos before throwing myself into the depths of the river, all the while panting with joy and amazement.

I was becoming altruistic in the realm of all that is romantic in a short period of time, this writing, somehow had it’s hand in the digging of the depths in the trenches where which I often dove headfirst. I often think that the sickness in my heart somehow spread into a sort of high-strung emotional poetic disorder. This is how I sometimes felt, and still do from time to time. Too often I am washed over with a sense of being, poisoned by an eagerness, and a congestion of tender impulses finessed with fever, spun with all of it’s enthusiastic dizziness. Love did after all bring out my deepest peculiarities.

It’s not to be considered a bad thing at all; I’d be one to guess that it belongs to the nature of this path that leads to my own sort of inner salvation. And so it is that owing to my eagerness, I began to connect breathing with joy again, and owing to the gloom of sickness, I looked to connect that joy with light, and owing to the absurdity of my own thoughts, I allied the light that shone upon the walls around me with the light that burned inside me.

I had materialized myself as one of those Hallelujah and Glory types. Furthermore concluding that man, this one in particular, is nothing but a continent of creative divide. One minute you are creating this, the next that. Though it belongs to those who are sensible, they are the ones who look to offer their personal experiences as a helpful lesson to the rest, hoping to energize the hearts and minds of others and do right by them—an intensive sort of public relations project. And for those who share no sensibility, or offer no empathy, let them be as they may. They will wake up sooner or later.

There are times when I see all of these thoughts of mine with copious amounts of idealism spread about. But there are other times when to me, all I see is pure external delirium, a toxic entity of animosity spreading far and wide, burning the fields of indigenous love, and sucking God’s Muse dry of Her very own blood. With everyone so sold on gold and the so-called good, it has become much easier to bat an eye at evil while we tuck it into bed for the night. But it is a certain gold that greed seeks, and there is certain honey hued Inner gold that builds and spills from within.

Some will only understand this once they themselves are sufficiently stripped of their hodgepodge of ideas, considering little by little the blandness of ordinary conversations, that are often too careful to avoid the essential subjects, such as the purpose of life, and the path to the other side. Instead some are left to measure just how dull it can be to waste time playing solitaire when going up against the stacked deck of subversion.

Though it is of hope to me that some would come to discover that the most impenetrable landscape, that the most unusual adventures are the ones seen and experienced from within, where beauty blossoms with the ordinary, where each moment can be richly unique, where the splendor of honey-filled joy is found where it’s least expected, if only one knows at which angle to capture the light, which in my opinion, is an angle that bends from within. Maybe they would finally realize that once they reached the Stairs that leads to door of the Inner Kingdom, they would see that everything else is barren poverty.

I have grown exhausted of everyone looking at everything with a negligent set of eyes. In my refusal to participate in the decline, I no longer wanted to be one to trample millenniums of wisdom, or to accept the reign of cynicism and the establishment of barbaric beliefs. Nor would I any longer find comfort in being an accomplice to the establishment of greedy manmade ideologies, all of which spread one way or another with the idea of repressing consciousness, all the while converging on the excessive accumulation of possessions. I had to find myself hidden in the midst of them all. I finally came to understand that with this undertaking, in spite of its discretion, very well could capture a collapse better than anything else. So off to set the foundation of an Inner Church I went, as it is so to speak, I took to the canvas of God.

We’d all be much better off, if we all went to work on ourselves, as much as we go to work just to live.  As I get in the car to drive to work, this river, this valley, it swells subtle with summer and new beginnings. Life was being drawn in the grass with the glowing green of growth. As one last thought runs through my mind, I find it unfortunate that we have been to the moon, we have charted the depths of the ocean and the heart the atom, but we have been standardized with this fear of looking inwards at ourselves because we have grown customary to the belief that this is where all of our contradictions will flow together within the confluence of the inner river.  But it is only if ourselves, would allow the decongestion of our ability to choose the ethical choice between what is right and what is wrong, we would find that free will ain’t so bad after all.

In closing, man is an ever-flowing river of creativity until the very last breath he draws. There are no limits set by this eclectic and electrified universe upon man’s cosmic totality, or his multiplication power. Each man sets his own limitations in accordance with his desires. He may Be a tiny stream which gathers little energy and carries a weak current or he may be roaring river, with the weight of eleven hundred and eleven cubic feet flowing through him at all times. This is true of all the energy borrowed from the universe by all of us. It is there in infinite quantity. The gauge for the kind of flow each of us have within us is set by ourselves.

—BeLove

Creative Clarity

Creativity involves breaking out of established patterns in order to see things in a completely different way.

Creativity is a shape shifter. It is something that is not defined with pattern. It carries with it, its own mentality. One moment it takes upon itself this form, the next that. Creativity involves breaking out of established patterns in order to see things in a completely different way. It is this bedazzling spirit that appears to all of us, yet is hard to identify its existence because there is not one of us that can agree upon what we read or saw as far as ourselves or our eyes are concerned.

Are the wielding of colors upon canvas, just as similar as paint chips and wallpaper? Is this evident of its creative existence? What about a pen versus paper, a rosebush bordered along a garden path? Yes and yes. What about the cooking up of love’s revolution? Why the hell not? Is it touching with delicate love the petals of a rose, or pulling off the Big Sweat of the swelling summer, or tying upon your line a pale morning dun because the trout see them better in the morning sun? Yes, yes, and yes. What about finding ones voice, or rearing a child towards adulthood, or better yet helping raise a nation from its prayerful knees? Hell yes.

Creativity is the tending to love like the orchard it is, finding the words that see fit. And when the cosmic thread finds its fabric, you sew the creative life that has been so graciously given to you. All of the above belong to the creative river of life. Creativity is the celestial river beneath the churning river of life, which flows from in and out of our souls.

Some say the creative life is in the living of ideas, some say it’s by doing, I believe it rests in the simplicity of being you. It is the love of something, having so much love for something—whether it be a band, a collection of words, an image, an idea, let alone be it humanity, that touches us in a way nothing else can. All that can be done to satisfy this craving is to create. It is not a matter of wanting or needing to, it is not a singular act of will; one solely must.  

The creative force flows over the spiritual terrain of our soul looking for the natural hollows, the channels that exist within us. We become basins of belief, tributaries of truth; we are the shallow pools, the serene ponds, and most important the sanctuaries of sanity.  The wild creative force flows into whatever garden bed we build for it, those we are born gifted with and those we have to dig with our own bare hands.  We don’t always have to fill them, but first we must build them.  

In lore, there is an idea that if one prepares a special spiritual place, then the creative force, or source of the soul, will hear it, sense its way to it, and call it home. Whether this force is summoned by the prayer of biblical proportions, “go forward and prepare a place for the soul” or, as in the movie Field Of Dreams in which a farmer hears a voice urging him to build a baseball stadium in the middle of midwestern nowhere USA. “If you build it they will come,” is a way of saying to prepare a place for the longevity of the creative force. It induces the soul to take the imagination to places that life could only dream of.

Once the inner river finds the estuaries and branches in our soul, our creative life fills and empties, rises and falls just like the seasons of a wilderness river. These cycles or patterns are responsible for the different climates of spiritual survival. Certain patterns of paths are the ones we must walk to get through the arid desert of the mind. Things are created; thoughts are fed, then fall back and die away, all in their own right time, over and over again. Creating one thing at any certain point in the river feeds those who come to the river, feeds those far downstream, yet even others in the deepest pools of imagination.

Creating is not a solitary moment. This is the clarity of creativity. This is its power. Whatever is touched by it, whoever hears it, whomever tasted its ingredients with the perfect balance, they sense it, they see it, and they are fed by it. This is why beholding someone else’s creative words, imageS, or ideas fills us up, and inspires us to do our own creative work. A single creative deed has the budding potential to feed this starving world. One single creative act can cause a river’s torrent to carve through miles of stubborn stone.

I have always thought of the following song’s inspiration as being that of creativity, more so necessarily than that of female persuasion. See you all soon. Thanks for stopping by.

—BeLove

Illuminating Light

Into the woods I go, to sharpen my soul and make myself whole.

I must speak with clarity that I write these words as a person who has lately experienced light. I am not speaking in particular about “the light.” It is a kind of light-in-the-being, which in all honesty, is a difficult thing to be precise when pinpointing its genesis. This is especially pointed out with precision in the pace of today, where so many erroneous, silly delusive actions and phenomena litter the landscape of a simple life.  But it is you the reader that should consider it as something highly spiritual passing through.  It is I, the author, whom considers it to be God.   

This light though, however it comes to be explained, is now a real element of who I am, like the breath of life in itself. I have experienced it once before, and it has lasted long enough to convince me of an altogether unreasonable amount of joy.  And it is once I felt the light for all it is was worth, that it has since become second nature to me. But if the light vanishes, a man will spend the rest of his time on this earth seeking the light.  

As the man looks all around, he starts to see “the light” in all things.  It will begin to shine everywhere he looks, in conversations with strangers, in the glow of an afternoon rainstorm—it seems to illuminate most everything that gives rhythm to his creative storytelling soul.  So now allow me to add a little light as to why I will forever write.

The semantics of poetry and storytelling run the same course as the language of dreams.  In the light of both contemporary and ancient dreams over the years, and as well as the sacred texts and works of such mystics as Rumi, Homer, and Merton and the work of poets such as Dickinson, Whitman, Pessoa, and so on. There appears to be within the soul, a poetic and artistic function that surfaces when a person spontaneously or purposely ventures towards the instinctual core of the soul. 

The Wilderness Within

This place in the soul is where dreams, stories, poetry, and art all meet.  It establishes itself as the enigmatic environment in the instinctual and wild nature within, or as I like to call it, the wilderness within us all.  In contemporaneous dreams and poetry, in the old folktales and scribes of the mystics, the entire atmosphere of the soul is understood as having a life of its own, or the world to itself.  It is most often symbolized in poetry, painting, music, and dreams—as one of the vast elements such as the burgeoning depths of an alpine lake so blue, the windowpanes of a sunlit sky, the windblown dust of earth, or a flickering flame, forever kept trimmed and burning with His oil.  

Into the woods I go, to sharpen my soul and find myself whole.

From the core—mystical matters and notions rise up through the person who experiences “being-touched-by-the-light.”  From there the person may engage the audience by talking about the edge.  But you must know that this edge has forever been a metaphor for the edge of my soul.  The fear of straddling this edge, the jumping from cliffs, it was all within the well of me.  Myself, diving headfirst into the once shallow waters of me.  It was about finding out how deep I was willing to go.  And the following is how I have come to find myself whole.    

It is then, when the creative mind becomes exhausted from the hauling of its own fleeting ideas and matters born of ego, he will carry this ideological and egotistical weight to said edge of himself and throw every last ounce of it from the cliffs of his conditional being.  The rightful sensibility in this is that his creative capabilities will be returned glowing infused with God, or washed with the soul’s remarkable psychic sense of life.  Either way, this carries a seismic effect within, a sort of profound and sudden awakening, and a channeling of the senses that revolutionizes the mood with a heart of heroism.  

When one is renewed, his overall mood changes.  When one’s mood is changed, one’s heart is changed. This is why the language of dreams, images, and the poetry that arise from the soul are so important.  In combination, they have the power to change one thing into another in a way that is so testing and torturous to accomplish by our will alone. And in the sense of sensibility within all of this, the core Self, the instinctual and wild Self, the authentic Self, finds itself whole, as both healer and life-bringer. Now, if you would all be so kind as to allow me to? Allow me to leave you with the direction I seem to be heading.

Whenever a story or fairytale is told, it becomes night.  No matter the dwelling, no matter the time, no matter the season, the telling of tales causes a star laden sky and a sun-reflected moon to rise from underneath the eaves of reality and hover over the imagination of the captive audience.  Sometimes by the end of the tale, the dwelling is filled with daybreak, other times shards of stars are left behind, and sometimes even a storm-ridden sky will turn to sunshine.  

But whatever it is that is left behind, it is the abundance that the creative has to work with, and he shall forever try and use this abundance to show all souls the way towards His light.  But for now I must get some rest. Sleep tight. 

“For God’s gifts and His call can never be withdrawn.”

Romans 11:29

-BeLove

Illuminating Love

You are the soul of the soul of the universe, and your name is Love.

-Rumi

One must bear in mind the odd angles that the rays of love have to take in order to reach a heart like mine. It is in the nature of love that we are here to love without condition. But the reality is that conditional love runs rampant, rearing its ugly head on those relationships we hold so dear. The effects of conditional love have become so distorted that the flesh takes flamboyant turns in the direction of that which lay behind us. It has become plain as day to me that most all of us compare today to tomorrow with that which happened yesterday.

In the deformity of loving with conditions, unconditional love is suppressed and the soul is left powerless. Therefore conditional love will not let us alone from suffering. But if you see the purity of love for what it is worth, you begin to understand that we owe our entire existence to unconditional love, because unconditional love is indeed the settled debt of the soul.  Once that debt is settled, suffering sees itself away from the heart.

My whole being has long applauded the idea of unconditional love. Though I haven’t always been one to practice unconditional love because of the conditions that I myself have bound to love. I have often obligated it to my own attachment with the expectations of what I believed love should be. It is in my opinion that this has always been wrong.

Rays Of Love

It is unfortunate that it took me this long to finally figure it all out.  But it is better to have learned late than to have not learned at all. The only way I came to understand this was by making it a priority to love myself without conditions.  It was tough to achieve, especially in the struggles of finally putting the ego to rest.  But it did happen through extended contemplation and in the due process of rewiring my heart with my soul. All of this has helped me to see what unconditional love truly is with a newfound intensity. You see unconditional love is as light as it is heavy, which holds steady with an all around balance.

It Is What It Is

Pure love—unconditional love—is the poetry of life.  A poet will come to understand that there is nothing of value without love and of course death—more on death down the road. For this post I wish to keep these words somewhat aligned with that of jubilation and joy.  See without love, there are no lessons.  Without love there is no darkness for the diamond in the rough to shine.

Today’s culture is quick to throw love off the cliffs of belief into the icy waters of doubt far below.  For not only are they scared, but they lack the patience to see love for what it’s truly worth.  Which I have come to find is both timeless and priceless.  There is no fear in love. Pure love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made pure in love. 

It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

1 Corinthians 13:7

This world has become for the most part soul-less. Though there is an awakening of sorts happening amongst us, this too shall be discussed later on down the line.  The world nowadays with its “tinder” love and don’t care mentality emboldens a quicker, thrashing about to find a swift spark to bargain with someone that burns forever in the now.  But the miracle of love we seek takes time: time to find it, time to nurture it, and then time to bring it to life.  After all, lust is just a maze, in which love can’t find its way.

The modern ways in which we seek love have become conditioned to that of perpetual motion.  When in fact the purity of love is perpetuity in itself, carried by the notion of chivalry. There is no surprise in the fact that all of us wanting to love become confused and anxious, while dancing with the madness of conditional love, unable to stop the frantic jig, while spinning past the things we, in the deepest part of our souls cherish the most.  But I quit spinning a couple of years ago. Please bear in mind this does not mean that I am not spun. There’s that double negative again;)  

Though there is a way, a better way, which takes into account that of human error.  Our fears, our quirky behavior, our atrocities that shadow our eccentricities, they are very much held accountable.  And it just so happens, in the cycle of individuation, we are guaranteed to stumble upon something that points in the direction of said way… 

Roots Of Love

This path I have long walked has forever been riddled with the roots of love. It is just ahead through the canopy of this forest, a subtle sign from heaven above seeps through showing the way. A long lance of sunlight lights my longing for this world to see the truth of unconditional love. But first I must fully feel the truth of it myself for myself. I slow my steps, careful not to trip over my own two feet until I come to a stand still.  Though it is in no way that I am guaranteed not to fall—yet these words they are certain to spill.

A Sense Of Bliss

This stillness, the solemnity that broods in these woods, it sparks a sense of loneliness as it tells itself upon my spirit. But it is in spirit that I have found happiness in this solitude, and this is where I found bliss on the way through to You. The loneliness that has often simmered in the silence of my mind has given me something I thought I would never find, that being You. This is You moving through me, is it not?

My soul shivers more often that not with Your intent nowadays. While my hopes and dreams, they bend toward Your light. This light looks to promise growth in the warmth of Your love. It satisfies my desire to feel the love I need, the love of You. It is true, this light, Your warm-heartedness alone seems to speak directly to my spirit with hints of something that will always fill my heart with a sensibility that is forever unconditional. 

You are the soul of the soul of the universe, and your name is Love.

-Rumi

I feel a love within myself growing in the depths of redemption with You.  It is the unwavering love that we have all cherished from those who have perished upon Your Heaven above. It’s unconditional in every sense of Your word. It is pure, it is clean, it is angelic, and in Your nature it will forever be illuminating. And yes, I do have so much more to say, but let us save it for a rainy day. You see, it is true, rain—has always assumed growth.   

See you all soon.

—BeLove 

     

Tickle The Truth

Look within. Within is the foundation of good, and it will ever bubble up, if thou wilt ever dig.

—Marcus Aurelius

The spiritually hungry are always ready to learn more, for their hearts are eager to discover new truths.

Proverbs

As a man with a humbled heart, I strive for truth and goodness.  If they ever find themselves in my possession, they may bring to me an unknown kind of heavenly happiness, but happiness itself is not of my creative and conscious purpose.  As much as I am engaged in the pursuit of happiness, it is the truth that I seek and not happiness. Though it is possible that when the truth comes to be found, it may just be holding hands with happiness. And it is true that having a creative attitude towards life, as a whole is not man’s right, it is his duty. 

A Creative Direction

Within this fallen world, I still see beauty everywhere I look and my creative nature will forever follow said beauty.  And being somewhat of a poet, hope will always find enthusiasm hiding behind beauty in the depths of a dream.  This enthusiasm becomes second nature to the poet because the truth of what he is, is within him.  

A voice sounds off in his soul, which is fed with a creative energy equal to the power of all societies.  You don’t make yourself interesting through madness, eccentricity or anything of said sort. In the truth of what is, the poet finds his enthusiasm in the ability to drown out the noisy distractions that this world seems to offer us on a daily basis.  He becomes fit to hear the essence of all things.  

It’s about to get deep.

Now let us focus on the truth of creativity. Creativity is the moral imperative that applies to the ethical department of life.  The effort put forth towards artistic and cognitive activity carries with it a moral value that is unswerving when one starts to understand that the realization of truth and goodness is an act of creative nobility.  

Digging For The Truth

Whatever I write from this point on, is for mere guidance of me and maybe you, and of course the boy.  There is nothing nonetheless in the truth of these words than that alone.  It is my life’s constant gravitational pull that has at times—pulled me towards the truth of me, myself, and I.  These words, they may be the hidden paths, which lead to the truth of heaven above, but heaven already exists in my heart, and that is the truth in itself. 

I would rather not be the man who looks upon his reflection and for a moment forgets the manner of man he was.  Yet at the same time, I strive not to try and remember myself lest I come to find the person I am not.  The first step toward finding me, who is of the utmost truth, is to discover the truth of God.  So if I have indeed been in error, the paramount step towards the truth is the unearthing of said error. 

Digging Deeper

Shall I flee far away, and hide within this wilderness of me? Shall I hurry for His shelter far away and free from tempest and these storms of me?  I seek no treasure or experience—I seek only the truth.  So whatever storms come, they come, and we brave them by dancing our way through them until the sun shines upon our souls. Is this not correct?

It is in my opinion that first you must truly know and love your self. Then you will become aware of the true “being” of God beneath your own fleeting thoughts. You will learn to wait with stillness underneath the chaos of confusion as you begin to recognize the unconditional love for yourself that hides behind reclusive pain.  It is after one has become aware of the darkness in the depths of faith—freedom, salvation, and even enlightenment—are but seeds of the truth.

Nature never gives up. And that is the truth.

Seeds Of Truth

In the reality of spiritually awakening, something emerges from within you that grows so much deeper than whom you thought you were.  And as much as the old version of myself is still around, something more powerful than anything I have ever felt grows within my soul. Someone has determined it necessary to anoint this head of mine with a sacred sort of oil, leading me down a path I never thought existed.  

A seed must crack and break free from its shell of comfort, so to seek the light of salvation through devastation. This “breaking free” will look like complete destruction of a person to those who look at this world externally. Followed by the discussed judgment of “that boy is a few sandwiches short of a picnic” mentality.  A losing of the mind, though in a lot of ways, can be of the highest kind because of what it is about ourselves we creatively come to find.

He has His own Way of bringing us out of our shells, of bringing us into the world—the world from which I long held the illusion that I was withdrawing. Most of my life I’ve felt some “far off” kind of sensation that something was leading me somewhere of significance.  But in the harshness of my disbelief of His will, the path has seemed to twist and turn in all sorts of direction.  And the only way to get through to me, I feel, was that He had to move through me from dead center, from the Cross within my heart. 

 The Truth Beckons

So in my own direction with my ego I went. Then came the flux of imagination, sensation, and insight, followed by an up close kind of ache for the sacred knowing of an astral plane beyond good and evil.  And that in it self is the dark truth of something heavier than I’ve ever known, I guess that’s why I will forever draw these words with the manner of me—to find the lightness of my own being. And maybe they could help me to become more aware of my own ego? 


At last, the light of the truth it beckons.  It glows in the awareness of this ego of mine. It has long lurked in the shadows of this creative wilderness.  Oh this writing, the spilling of my own fleeting thoughts, why must they exude my ego, why must they be the truth of who I am in God’s very own heart? And so it is I’ve come to understand my ego, and from understanding comes God’s growth. And why it is, that the beacon of light from within, will always be the beckon of hidden truth I seek.

I have wandered deeper into my own soul than even I’ve ever fathomed over these past few months—deeper than most wish to go. Lucky for me these words have been instrumental in keeping my feet on the path in a wilderness so deep. Maybe this depth has setup permanent camp in this wilderness of my mind. So allow me to tickle the truth with the gravity of this pen.

Tickle The Truth

The great fleeting feelings and thoughts are gone but not forgotten. And if we will not awaken the awareness of humanity’s collective ego—the collective of goodness, spirit and soul of society will never be convinced to participate in the geometric pattern of angels, and society will sink deeper into the abyss of suffering. So now the time has come to lift the veil of Maya.  Illusion is real and reality has become a dream, no longer illusory.

The truth of heaven and of fallen angels will sow the seeds of the future for humanity as a whole. Both like to speak to us in dreams with certain criteria we never knew to exist.  But we spend most of our lives dissecting our dreams, instead of living those dreams. These dreams, they come to us as we sleep, to help us see the concealed divinity in other human beings. All the while sharing with us a map that creatively charts the course of imagination across the abyss that so often divides us all from the truth of His Spirit.  And upon the latitude and longitude of the heart, we find flesh and soul at crossroads.

The Story Grows

In the end all happiness really is—is the quality of your inner context. Each and every life that blesses this planet is in fact a story waiting to be told.  Each life has a table of contents, that divvies up the chapters by those delicate and life altering situations that each and every one of us face every single day.  Happiness is growth. Growth from all of the pain and suffering that once prevented us from believing in ourselves.

So let us join hands and build one another before we judge one another.  Is this not spoken in the law of Christ, to nurture instead of destroy?  So instead of fighting amongst each other, let us nurture the foundation of truth with unconditional love and help us allow a bright future for our children. Let us build a new path that leads to somewhere the world has never been. 

“Bear another ones burdens and fulfill the law of Christ”

Galatians 6:2

The Takeout

Man and his moral dignity with its freedom are determined not by the purpose to which he aids his life, but by the source from which his morality and the ensuing activities that spring from said source.  It should be worthy of a note, that in a sense, “the means” from which a man chooses, are far more diligent than “the ends” in which he pursues. 

To consider things and situations only in the light of the effect they burden upon me is to stumble upon the doorstep of hell, so as I stand up, rising out of my own hell, it’s time to reach for the truth of heaven.

-BeLove

Soul Wax

So let us head His way
towards a brand new day.
It is there
He will seal our stamps
beneath Heaven’s oiled lamp.

The soul like a wax
waiting for its seal
only to be softened 
on the path to God’s will

A soul itself
has no identity
til it finds some warmth 
deep in His destiny.

This wax it will melt
as it reaches His hand
and so it will be
whatever He sees
as the truth of our identity
shall forever set us free.

For all souls will fall soft
as they turn to His light
cradled with a faith

which howls with the coming night.

But if a soul so lost
lives in the dark 
with no intent 
of seeking His spark
the spark it will cease
while the soul dries hard
and crumble it shall
to an arid ash 
fallen through the crease of hell

Therefore it is wise
to stand beside
His blazing fire
held by a hand and His will 
as our only desire. 

It is then

when we sit soft
a place He will prepare 
one of which 
we have never been scared.

Stay warm and oh so whole
for on the day of death—so cold
Christ will come
to carry us through 
one last breath 
on our way Home.

So let us head His way 
towards a brand new day. 
It is there
He will seal our stamps
beneath Heaven’s oiled lamp.

And please say your peace
as you leave your feet.
It’s nothing but your soul’s
divine identity 
pure bliss will forever keep.

BeLove © 2019

Rhythm Of Prayer

The rhythmic effect of prayer will streamline its way into everyday when done consistent.

When I picked up this pen again to entertain this hobby of mine, little did I know how much work God wants to do with our souls.  This is even truer when I started to allow Him into my creative room with the potency of prayer.  I began to realize this as my desire for certain things slowly began to vanish the more I prayed. There has been a few days in between that I sought pleasure and profit, as it is instinct.  It is easy to become intoxicated with the sweetness of the taste for things we write upon here and there.  Yet now, with each passing day something I felt attached to, or desired in some way, slowly makes its exit from the daily agenda of my refreshed mentality.  And I have been able to “let it all go” through prayer.

Prayer is a stained glass in which the light has been refracted through the color of God.

Prayer is the union of our mind and our will with God in an act of pure love bringing us into obscure contact with Him as He really is.  The reason I like to pray is to renew and redevelop my mind from all of the trivial things that wrap around it. All the while letting go of my will.  Prayer then infuses with the soul and then comes the direct intervention with God.  I am beginning to think that the tremors that move through us as we pray is the soul communicating with God.  The soul raises the whole process of the prayer’s progress above the level of our perceived landscape and it is possible that our spirit carries it to Him.  It is then that my capacity for suffering seems to drain from my clogged mind, only to be filled with His infused light and love.  

Potency Of Prayer

Before any of this begins, it is ordinary to labor with the proper preparation of prayer in our own way and with the help of His grace.  It is by adding depth to our knowledge and love of God in all forms of prayer, that our will starts to set itself free from the attachment of our own created circumstance.  

I have found that the best thing a beginner can do at the first inkling of spiritual osmosis is to develop discipline of the mind.  This enables us to concentrate on a spiritual matter and get below the surface of its meaning and incorporate it into our own lives.  By doing this we acquire the agility and freedom of mind, which helps us to find the light and warmth in the love of God.  

People who pretend to think about God only during those fixed periods after their own cruel agenda has left them weak and stranded will never amount to anything in the spiritual life. In fact they will not even think of Him in the moment of prayer.  They instead focus on themselves, which will not get them very far on the path to His Promised Land. 

“When you ask, you do not receive, because you ask with wrong motives, that you may spend what you get on your pleasures.

James 4:3

 Get Creative

A few months ago I started to post in the sense of prayer.  This I thought at first was to go against the grain of God.  I must confess though, it has helped me when adjusting myself for extended moments of prayer.  I recommend that all try it.  You don’t need to post it for the world to see, but it helps if you spell out the direction you would like to go, then it can only be used as an instrument of His will. I now believe one hundred percent that writing is a form of prayer.  The rhythmic effect of prayer will streamline its way into everyday when done consistent. It will trickle through the mind, and eventually cascade through your heart and soul.   

Others may suppose that the function of prayer is to show us how to practice going about life with a virtuous understanding and to give us the courage and determination to do something in life.  This is just another fruit to be plucked from the soul of a prayer, but it is just another step along the path.  

The reason why prayer does not serve its true purpose in the lives of so many who try and practice it, is that they do not understand its true purpose.  Some people—and this unfortunate—only pray for their well being, to get what they feel they deserve.  Then there are those that believe by praying they will come to find out more about God.  It is an elementary truth that prayer strengthens our convictions and allows us a deeper foundation of faith and understanding, but this is only the tip of the iceberg.  It is but the threshold of prayer. 

Functionality Of Prayer

As we get closer to the truth we begin to see that prayer is meant to produce in us a greater love for God. Whether or not this concept is satisfactory to you depends entirely what you mean by loving God.  If we think prayer has proved its point when it made us say we love God or feel that we love God, we may still be wrong.  

There will always be a light if you believe.

Prayer is a dual discipline that has a dual function.  First it is supposed to allow us sufficient control over our mind and its memory. This is what enables us to recollect ourselves and withdraw from all exterior challenges—with their activities, thoughts, and concerns of temporal existence.  

Secondly, this is when prayer begins its ascent to Heaven above.  It is the end result of the prayer that we start to become aware of the presence of God, as that vibration radiates from within, the tingling of the spine, this is when you know He is moving through you. And He aims to bring us to a state of constant companionship and loving attention to Him, and our utmost dependence on Him.  

“Trust in the lord with all your heart and lean not into your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your path straight.

Proverbs 3:5

The Take Out

The sole purpose of a prayer is this—to teach us how to work ourselves free from created things our minds have built up and our temporal concerns. Those in which we only find confusion and sorrow. Once we work to free ourselves from these. We will then enter into a conscious and loving contact with God in which we dispose ourselves from our wants and focus on our need for Him. This is done by praising Him every step of the way with the honor and love which He has now given to us through joy. Prayer is a dark path, in which nothing but faith can be heard in the silent, joyful light of God’s will.

The success of prayer will not be measured by the great resolutions we make, or the emotions felt in the exterior senses.  We have only prayed well, when we have come, to some extent, to realize God.  Yet even that is not quite the thing either.  

After all, anyone who has tried it is aware that the closer you get to God, the less question there can be of His will. The less there can be of realizing Him or anything about Him, the more we realize the path we are to walk is the one that infuses us with His light and His love.

-BeLove

The Energy Of Delight

Delighting in God’s work leads us to delight in God, and delight in God drives away fear.

Dear God—

It’s been awhile since we’ve spoke beneath Your stars.  I vaguely remember a few inebriated instances of pleas for forgiveness, but those moments aren’t much worth reminiscing over if I can’t very well remember them.  I must confess the past month has been but a blistered blur on this path to freedom.  One must plead forgiveness for his improper actions, but I think we are both working to clear that up on our respective ends.  Well You and Your infinite nature probably don’t pay much worry to the same trivial ends as I, but either way I must thank you for seeing me through it all.

And even though I have been so very lost, the cycle of redemption shall soon come to bloom with the Spring of You.  So allow me to be redeemed beneath Your infinite nature that sparkles above me as I speak with humility at Your mercy. 

Banks Of The Deep End

I often feel as though I’ve reached that age at which I can sense the impulse of folly as it advances towards my thoughts.  And instead of speaking with You when the direst of desire for some sort of external help reaches its boiling point within me, I, instead turned my drowning attention towards the depths of whatever bottle was around.  And I now see that the gauze of booze does not help to heal the wounds of whatever it is one is suffering through, one would be none the wiser to go ahead and choose to hit the snooze on his wildest dreams.

And I feel as though these thoughts of mine that project sleepless patterns upon my night—the only thing I can do with them is stand on the edge of some eternal lake of fire within my mind and throw crumbs upon its surface and watch as the ideas come to feed like frenzied fish.  But again I have come to find that by speaking with You before bed instead of my own madness, these waters upon my fiery lake settle smooth.  So let us speak with the positive energy of Your delight for the remainder of this post.

You are the essence of the energy of my delight.  Even through the darkest nights, when I would look for Your light, and I couldn’t find it, little did I know that I was the light.  Maybe it was the darkness that couldn’t handle me. The external energy that I sought was not anywhere to be found except within me. This I now know.  

Your Will has revealed every movement of my life, and I can either obey You or I can resist You, but I cannot know with clarity what I am doing without much grace. Therefore I pray to You, God, with every breath I take give me the grace to never refuse anything you ask, but to remain utterly lost in Your Will’s immense obscurity, doing not what my will wants for my own good, but giving myself to You which is really the only possible good, for myself and for all of humanity.

His Infinite Love

Nor do I want to demand that what I do should immediately show some sort of result that I can appreciate. Neither do I want to esteem anything that I do, or do anything because I think it will make something of me in this world—but to only do things for love and love alone.  This is wherein the real obscurity hides, because the values loved by Your infinite love (the love so perfect that it is its own object) is absolutely incomprehensible to me.  Therefore to live for love is to live in the delight of Your infinite energy.  

I do not even need to know precisely what I am doing, except that I am glorifying the love of You.  To act out of obedience to the rules within the community of cosmic love, which was built by Your grace in order to love You, is obviously why I must act for love and love alone.  It is by following this rule that the world is saved.

It’s True I Tell You.

And since I live for love, I will ask for no reward, only more love.  Your love is infinite, as it scatters through the night sky above me and I reminisce upon a verse from Your Book. 

“Seek Him who made the seven stars and Orion, who turns midnight into dawn and darkens day into night, who calls for the waters of the sea and pours them out over the face of the land—the light of the world is His name.”

Amos 5:8

It is true that when we seek You, we seek the Creator of all things. You are all powerful, controlling both day and night.  And when within me, I was swimming in a sea of doubt; you tipped me over and from me that doubt spilled away.

So I thank you for drowning my doubt in the positive force of all that You delight. I believe that this may have been Your plan all along to see the truth of where I truly stand, but then again, I cannot try and fathom Your masterplan without letting my expectation get in the way so let us just attack today with Your energy at my side.

The Takeout

In closing, there is no delightful energy when conflict and argument arise within your own mind. All this inner-divergence amounts to is more resistance and turmoil in both the inlying and outlying environments of your very own life.  

It is instead that we should practice prayer purposefully and in the silence of prayer one will find peace by listening to the silence of your mind.  But some choose instead to argue with the madness that will often leave one bellied up with a bottle, only to ask the devil to soon step outside and handle this deviance like cursed men.  And even if one wins the argument with his very own devil, there is still no peace, for arguments are never won—they are perpetual.

When all you want is peace and love, one must have faith in the obscure realm of God’s Will, this is where the energy from within glows with delight and its positive nature realigns the heart with the head and God’s love will fill up and pour from the depths of your soul. Delighting in God’s work leads us to delight in God, and delight in God drives away fear.

Amen.

-BeLove

Written Confession

If I am to be a writer or a poet, I must always put on paper what I have become.

It may sound simple, but it is no easy task.

Hello.  First, let me thank you for stopping by.  Now where were we?  

I wrote the last post because I wanted to prove that we all have doubt.  Doubt in ourselves, doubt in God from time to time.  Hell, I have doubted God and myself most of my life. This doubt is similar to smoke, it will cloud your judgment of yourself, cloud your thoughts, cloud God’s purpose and His will for you.  

This smoke-filled doubt seems to be the absence of God.  Yet, God is still very much around.  He has just chosen to seem absent. But through the fog there is always a light and it burns within you, and it is God. You see he isn’t absent; those clouded thoughts are just the absence of faith.  I will now share with you why I believe this to be true.

Speak The Truth

My last post almost didn’t happen.  I was close to throwing in the towel when it came to writing again.  I almost put the pen down for good this time.  I was in a bad spot over the past week and a half.  It was all self-imposed from my obtrusive ego.  My head had swollen past the point of no return.  I wanted to quit writing out of pure defiance

Keep going.

The renewal date for this blog was coming up and I said to myself, just let it all go, just let it collapse like everything else in your life.  Sit back and “maybe” write the book and forget about the message while allowing mayhem to take the checkered flag from motivation.  My heart and soul were both vitally exhausted from moving constant in opposite directions of each other trying like hell to keep up with my mind.  

Don’t Doubt

And you know why? Because I doubted everything, and when I chose to do that I doubted Him.  I didn’t pray deeply for a business week worth of days, I didn’t get lost in the gardens of scripture for an extended duration.  I walked away towards the darkness of insolence from the path He had laid with the light of deliverance.  My soul had succumbed to the selfishness of pride.  

So come Monday morning, my day off, I awoke and I made it a point to speak loud and clear to the emptiness around me.  I spoke at length with Him about my dependence of Him, I begged for His mercy. And as I said before, when talking to myself, I have come to find that I am lot happier rather than listening to myself. 

So the day went it’s way and things were happy.  The kid and I played and created to his heart’s delight.  I was asked a million and one questions.  That plus one, was the best one yet.  “So Dad, did you know that God made me?” My soul stood silent and looked above and through the flesh, we winked and then I looked to him and all I could do was smile and reply, “Yes.”  

A creative mind is of a thriving kind.  All his idea. 

The following morning in the same empty room, I repeated my need for Him and His mercy, but this time I promised to start seeing the grace in all things as opposed to their shortcomings. The reason because spawned from my child’s question.  

Feeling Grace

This is something that we all do, instead of seeing the grace in something we look for the fault.  For instance, you have a child who has asked you the most mind-numbing but silly questions about farts and chickens all morning but then by the grace of God and who he really is, He reels you in to a place you have never been, a peace you’ve never felt.  That’s not just seeing, but feeling the grace of Him in all things.  

That night after the kid had gone to his mother’s house.  I was still going to quit, so I echoed my merciful dependence for Him, but this time I asked Him to give me the strength to see His will through, to allow me to see the grace of my surroundings.  I then picked up the bible and turned to Job.  Before I knew it the pen had found its way back into my hand. The words were written as follows the scripture.

He speaks in dreams, in visions of the night, when deep sleep falls on people as they lie in their beds.  

Job 33 : 15

And again the words they spilled from my flooded soul.  

Where I call home.


Allow God To Move Through You

These shades of mountain they glow beneath Your crescent moon, these stars they sprinkle my sight with a grace that shimmers of You.  And here You are moving through me with Your capricious wind, showing me what I should do.  Winter is in full force, and Your skies have been so grey, but every evening the inversion burns off and there You are so bright and beautiful.  This darkness and its significant other, that our flesh calls faith, is something we should forever see the light in.  So in the darkness of my doubt, let’s give them something to talk about.

Sometimes I feel that I should quit writing altogether, as some sort of gesture poised defiant.  In any case, I hope to stop thinking so much, because it has become impossible for me to stop writing altogether.  There is no way I can stop now, these words they help to heal, and it is possible that it is not only me.  Perhaps I will I write until death, and maybe even longer. Maybe I’ll write while in purgatory, except that I hope You and I can arrange some miraculous last inning heroics over my sins, and we shall leave purgatory in its own dugout, while you and I celebrate beneath fountains of champagne.  

And it seems to me that writing is not an obstacle in front of spiritual perfection in my own life, but sometimes it seems to have become conditional on which my perfection depends. Such is the mind of a poet.  If I am to be a writer or a poet, I must always put on paper what I have become. It may sound simple, but it is no easy task.  

To be a good person, and to remain myself, and to write about it:  to put myself down on paper, and now upon the world wide web, in such a situation, with simplicity and integrity, masking nothing, confusing no issue: this is difficult, because I am at times mixed up with illusion and attachment.  These too must be written, but how?  Without exaggeration, repetition, and useless emphasis.  That’s how.  No need for howling through the ears of anyone but You, who will always see the depth of my foolishness.  To be frank without boring You, it is kind of a crucifixion.  It requires so much honesty that is beyond my nature.  So let it be said, it must come from You.

Amen. 

The results of God moving through us are more or less a transparent holiness through the lens of Him. Creativity is the very act of God moving through man.  By living, praying and writing in the light of God, I have lost myself entirely by becoming public domain via Him.  

If you take anything away from this post, let it be as follows.  

We are all lost the majority of our lives, most of us have evolved to ignore our purpose and have become akin to just existing.  I was one of those people and I almost was again.  But believe me, we are here for the purpose of making the world a better place, via love, faith, and most of all hope through God.  

Within each and every one of us is a place called Calvary and the mind within it, has the ability to be and believe in whatever it wants to.  But the resource of abundant life has masked itself as debt and suffering, when true wealth has forever been funded by faith in God. 

This is why creativity is the most important natural resource that God has ever given us.  

And then they were whole—welcome back soul. 

-BeLove