A Wisdom Whole

Whosoever is delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god.

-Aristotle

Devoid of thought—I sit with ease in this creative room.  The fountain of my mind moves with the tranquility of a winter’s brook.  From the silence comes a light, followed by a prosperous thunder that shook the fountain loose, and a stream, it flowed through an open door.  Low and behold, behind that door sat a man with the silhouette of a wolf at his side.  He observed with content and about him was a homeliness that alleviated my senses, and the words that follow are the words I spoke.

The differences of conflicting forces in this world that surround us arise with an immediacy that is evident to the senses, and not just as an ample illusion.  But as men, we become too intent on analyzing these variations—divvying them up between good and evil, and that which is essential and detrimental.  It is true that the more we analyze these variations, the deeper they become immersed in illusion.

Man will then lose sight of the deep, underlying connection of these opposites within him because he becomes obsessed with the posturing of his separateness.   It is in reality that the distinction to be made is not between this unseen force, which is good and true, as against that force which is evil and false.

Rather it is the perception of our underlying wholeness that holds the key to the locked door that leads to the truth and the goodness of You, while attachment to the superficial separation of us leads to inaccurate and ethical errors.  So let us use this key and open that door.

“to God all things that are good are just and right, but men hold some things wrong and some right.”

-Heraclitus

And in the mystic of You underneath this splendid dusk, let us speak.

You see all things as good and right, not in their separateness by which they are so falsely contrast to all else, but in their inner harmony with these so-called opposites. In the end it is man that separates all that You have “united.”

This instinct that You have placed within me, it has allowed me to see through the smoke of materialistic multiplicity, which billows from the “Fire” of unity.  This “Fire” burns from the fuel of You burning within me.

This “Fire” has blazed its way through the landscape of the old me, clearing the way for the undergrowth of a new spiritual and dynamic principle within me within You.  Is this not the hidden meaning in my dream?  The foggy smoke always wrapping around my head, leaving me lost and afraid, while the wolf—he trails close behind?

The “Fire” of You, it is the comforting warmth I have always sought.  Yet, when I came so close I ran from it because all I could smell and see was smoke and all I could sense was my fear of the hungered beast, which in turn made You and the dream seem so illusory.  And I must apologize for that.  I now see it as true that instead of running from the fear within me, I had to turn inward to face the reality of the darkness within me, to find You.

I had to come to grips with all of the clumsy slip-ups I have made in this life, with my lack of self-control—I became to compartmentalized to communicate within my own self clearly.  Yet, I have learned that I shall run in the direction of my inward ways moving forward with full control.

The “Fire” I now see it everywhere I look, and within everything I see.  It burns with divine energy, a powerful manifestation of You within me.  And now I see the power of You move through all things.  Good, bad, happy, or mad, there You are, to remind me that I am on the right path, after all I am still breathing.

This “Fire” it burns different within all souls, with its different aromatics of love and faith, like varietal perfumes that blend with the beauty of You.  This is how You move through the infinite variety of beings, as they manifest You however You choose within them.  These words that follow from Your scripted garden are the words that You have chosen to move through me beneath this beautiful twilight.

When he balanced the foundations of the earth;  I was with him forming all things and was delighted every day, playing before him at all times;  Playing in the world and my delights were to be with the children of men.

Proverbs 8 : 29-31

You are not just the “Fire” or the combination of any of the other elements for that matter.  You are the energy that works through the world by showing itself, much like a child’s endless energy. Then you seek to hide in the “nature” of all things with Your wisdom.  This wisdom isn’t so much “at work” in nature, but is rather “in play” throughout the wilderness of us all.

“Time is a child playing draughts. The power of a King is a child’s”

-Heraclitus

This reference to a child playing the game of draughts is a metaphor for the flow of Your wisdom through us.  The understanding that Your cosmic wisdom is always in a constant state of becoming and change—like a child playing in this world—and this cosmic interplay of elements in its state of constant dynamic flux is the true expression of Divine Law. The hidden harmony with its unity—is what keeps everything in balance in the midst of conflict and movement.

True wisdom must grasp upon the very movement itself, and infiltrate the thought within this dynamic harmony of Your Love moving through us.  If wisdom is one thing—it is to know the thought by which all things are steered through all things through the love of You.  It is in these beautiful and lost scripted words of Yours below that these fragmentary thoughts of mine shall complete today’s puzzle.  Let us introduce you to the Book of Wisdom.

And all such things as are hid and not foreseen, I have learned:  for wisdom, which is the worker of all things, has taught me.

For in her is the spirit of understanding: holy, one, manifold, subtle, eloquent, active, undefiled, sure, sweet, loving that which is good, quick, which nothing hinders, beneficent.

Gentle, kind, steadfast, assured, secure, having all power, overseeing all things, and containing all spirits, intelligible, pure, and again subtle.

For wisdom is more active than all active things: and reaches everywhere by reason of her purity.

For she is a vapor of the power of God, and a certain pure emanation of the glory of the almighty God: and therefore no defiled thing cometh into her.

For she is the brightness of eternal light, and the unspotted mirror of God’s majesty, and the image of His goodness.

Wisdom 7 : 21-26

It is through these words that I feel the Presence of You moving through me like never before.  Wisdom—it is a metaphor that looms of woman, the nurturer of all knowledge, the Mother of all men, and the purity of all that is divine.  It is from the time Your seed is planted within the womb, and through childhood, through adolescence and now adulthood, the answer has always rested within the motherly Love that reigns in all women.

Your Presence, I feel it stronger than ever in this precise moment, as sure as these hands are shaking with vibration, they manage to merge with the redemption and divinity of Your wisdom.  I feel an attunement within me never felt before, and it feels whole.

At my side the wolf, he paces with patience, held by a leash tied to Heaven above—his whispered howl echoes through my entirety.  The moon it glows full, raindrops fall upon my soul, showing a path laden with spiritual goodness.  One that I have long aimed to ramble about.  This wilderness is about to get wild.

-BeLove


A Prayer Wild

The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the song of it, but do not know where it comes from and where it is going; so is everyone who is born of the Spirit.

John 3 : 8

High noon has long passed and I can feel the winds of twilight move through my soul.  I imagine it moves through me much the same as He moved through the first evening of creation.  The freedom of desolation that pours from my heart comes to find itself filled with His Spirit, and once again the Holy Ghost and I walk together beneath a setting sun leaving even Him smitten.

I stare in awe at the pastel lit sky and speak silent again.

As the darkness approaches, please allow me to bask in this higher light of you before I lose myself in this wilderness I call home.  I know that within You there is a light that I have yet to fathom, because there is no known knowledge of the light you truly exude upon a lost soul.  Yet what I feel seems so very real.

I understand that what you truly offer cannot be pinned down to any certain concept that I have complete knowledge of.  I do know that within the scripted garden of Your Word, I feel a peace within me I never knew existed, and for that I can’t acknowledge you enough.  It is also through the potency of prayer that I am starting to touch my dreams with my own two hands.

The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the song of it, but do not know where it comes from and where it is going; so is everyone who is born of the Spirit.

John 3 : 8

And as my hands cinch together with dovetail technique, I wish to truly encounter You as this darkness washes over the landscape of me.  In the simplicity of You, I see a light that isn’t bound by a medium in which channels us as one.

For there is no explanation of You, when the experience of You is all that I need to feel as You quietly testify Your love for me.  We are one; we have always been one, even though I didn’t see that until recently, and for that I hope You carry no hard feelings.

Yet it is in the union of Your light and my soul that I see a path start to clear; with You leading the way to the aforementioned Promised Land with the Spirit Of Christ in tow. The Son, Your only Son, that You suffered with grace through sacrifice—not just for You and I—but for all souls.

And for that I truly hope that all understand the truth in the meaning of sacrifice, because I don’t think that most have a firm grasp on what it means to truly sacrifice.  After all, everybody wants to go to Heaven to see You but nobody wants to die.  But let us speak on a deeper level of the Paradise that awaits further down this road.

It is in the simplicity of You, where all that is trivial in this life, becomes coherent in the uncharted waters of pure bliss.  It is in us that You have chosen to dwell and as for those of us who understand the simplicity of Your presence, let us forever imitate the Love of You. Whether that is via avenues of creativity or through the worship of your Gospel when testifying to You moving within us depends entirely upon which room you decide to carry us into.

But for those who don’t understand the depths of Your Love, please prepare them for the beast at bay, because you know as well as I do. Actually you know better than I do.  He is sitting back waiting to howl, scoping the battlegrounds, hunting down the hate—with none other than the presence of Your Love pouring into his heart.

And yes it is true, that in the sight of You, I know my purpose is trivial, but it is my purpose, You put it there, so as I have fallen so many times before, You have picked me up, and placed me where I needed to be.  I plead with You now to allow me the time, the inner peace, and the fashion to allow You to move through me in Your own way.  As I am awakening in You, and You in me, let us turn each other inside out, making this emptiness fill itself with the wisdom of Your vision and the purity of You—while giving them all a glimpse of Your cosmic dance.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

Jeremiah 29 : 11

Yet the fact does remain that You invite us to forget ourselves on purpose—to cast upon us a dreadful gravity that ascends upon Your wind and join You in the dance.  And now I see that it is our one true and upright purpose to continually seek You in all aspects of life.  And because of that I will forever testify in Your name.  And I thank you for showing me the light looming in this wilderness of me.  Amen.

Yours Truly,

BeLove


Taking Root

Every man must act in the rhythm of his time. Such is wisdom.

A newfound knowledge has opened these windows of my mind.  Meanwhile drafts of wisdom flow through them like an autumn wind—fragments of the old me sneak through the same window—seeking freedom from self-inflicted suffering.

My eyes gaze upon the infinite splendor of a midnight western sky and I bow my head, speaking hushed.

How is a man supposed to make sense out of his existence when doubt runs rampant all around him? How can he find authentic meaning by simply embracing a certain criteria of explanation—which professes to show him the ways and means of this world?

Perhaps, this is why in my self-contained state that I search these woods within me, like an eternal explorer.  Seeking what I can’t find until the end of my time.  And if you wouldn’t mind, let us take a little bit of time to get through this wilderness of mine?

I feel that I should further venture towards the shadier side of this wilderness—my soul—where the wolf waits, howling with the moon.   And it is true that “herded” men fear and industriously avoid the shadows of their own darkness.

But I am confident that with the presence of You within, that the “I” of me will find some harmony in the fragments of my being.  And it is with You at my side, that I am no ordinary man, for that alone, I do not fear the darkness in me.

It is true the worst thing a man can do when divvied up into a couple of different compartments is to seal off certain compartments from one another.  If it is felt that one is more essential than the other, then one will practice with mental prowess in trying to keep the hidden beast at bay.  This is what happens when deep reflection pushes itself in the direction of an unwise and distracted man.  To contemplate when divvied up refracts instead of reflects.

The first thing that must be done before falling into a contemplative state is to coerce your natural unity back into totality.  It is of the utmost importance to reintegrate the compartments of your fragmented being into another kind of alliance altogether.  This is when we allow our dual nature the chance at feeling the manifested presence of God within us.  Then and only then is our being wholly aligned with that of the Spirit.

The presence of God in His world as its Creator depends on no one but Him.  His presence as “I” perceive—is in the strength that I carry to harness my own beast within.  Therefore these fragments of me and “I” can find harmonious balance in His grace.

There isn’t a thing we can do to change the enigma of our existence, except live in the harmony of happiness and feel the presence of God within ourselves daily.  We are able to decide whether we ourselves, and the portion of the world, which is ours, shall become aware of His presence, thrive in it, become consecrated by it, and reshaped by its light.

In life we have the choice of two identities:  the external mask which at times seems to be real and which lives in an autonomous shadow for a brief moment of experience.  But it is the hidden, inner being, which seems to us to be nothing. But it’s that being that gives himself eternally to the truth in whom he subsists.  It is this inner self that is taken up into the mystery Of Christ, by His love, by the Holy Spirit, so that in secret we live “in Christ.”

There is one body and one Spirit—just as you were called to the one hope that belongs to your call—one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all.

Ephesians 4 : 4-6

As I come to below Your night sky, I do feel that you have called upon me to help understand that explanation of You isn’t always sufficed—yet it is through the experience of You—where these lessons really move.  And it is nice to that we have started to claw at the surface of “I”, but we both know that we have a long way to go.

And the wolf—this beast in me—I now understand, is just one of the many ways you’ve chosen to speak through the fragments of me.  But for now I must catch a plane back to my roots. Yes there are some things that were buried long ago that You and I must dig up, so the seed will come full circle, and this relationship we are building will finally take its root.  Talk to you soon, Big Guy.

-BeLove


Where The Heart Lives

By wisdom a house is built, and through understanding it is established; through knowledge its rooms are filled with rare and beautiful treasures.

Proverbs 24 : 3-4

The heart it longs for home

and the ego will search

to the ends of earth

for the comforts of masquerading warmth.

 

But home is built around

the foundation within

while the soul scours the grounds

of hope’s lost and found

looking all over for the kind of love

in which a King is crowned.

 

This home—it does exist

in the realm of pure bliss

yet our deceptive mind

will send thoughts amiss

as the heart screams of loneliness.

 

You see the soul

will forever be an empty nest

if you don’t allow the Spirit

some satisfaction of steady rest.

 

For it is within the Temple of Self

that the Heaven we call home

sits with faith upon a shelf

framed within our being

He cleverly created without us seeing.

 

But the answer has long been hid

in those pleasures amid

the blowing grace of a capricious wind.

And this is when we learn

it is our soul that yearns

for the home of His celestial will.

 

For then and only then

comes a light that spills

upon a soul’s darkest end—

and in that little light within

love it will refill.

As a heart ascends

to the place

where home has always lived.

BeLove © 2018


 

The Spirit Of Love

You will show me the path of life; in Your presence is fullness of joy; at your hands are pleasures forevermore.

Psalms 16 : 11

Love exists in both the physical and the spiritual domain. Which is why our heart and mind often bicker back and forth about what is real and what is hidden in the soul. Love can drive us mad and love can set us free. Love is what we forever want and something we don’t always feel like we need.  But all we need is Love, if only from within, from time to time. The only thing Love should ever possess is our self-awareness.

Love is a tragedy in itself.  Love contains an eternal tragic element that is connected with death.  I mean this in the metaphoric sense that a broken heart digs with a shoveled similarity until it finds itself suffocated six feet under.  But I haven’t died as far as I know.  So how can I compare the two?  I’ve always said that if my heart is beating, it ain’t broke.  This is truer than most believe.  It is only in the deepest depth of love when the obstacles of physicality are no longer a make believe barrier that blocks the spirit of unconditional love.

In the tragedy of natural or physical love, we begin to see the element of hostility unveil itself in the depths of this type of love. Too often people are afraid to fully open their hearts out of wrong instincts that are accompanied by false fears and/or beliefs.  This is what prevents the possibility of true intercommunion.

But it is important throughout life to take the time to look within you and become one with yourself.  This is done by falling head over heels in love again with who you are and what you aspire to be.  The soul then starts to seek the stability of a spiritual awareness that thrives in the absence of physical love.  This is deemed necessary to heal from tragedies of loves’ past and to reevaluate our internal skillset and what it takes to truly love our self again.  If one does not come to love their own self with wholeness, they will never be able to love another soul in the unconditional sense.

Man is poisoned by primitive fears of loneliness and liberating one’s self from this fear proves to be an honest and uplifting task.  It brings not only joy—but also new tragedy. Welcome to the tragedy of detachable personality.  You see every time our heart is broken, it could be considered symbolic of death.  We crumble, breakdown, and tear apart until all layers of illusion are burned away. All that we find left of ourselves is the truth of who and what we really are.  It is up to you whether or not you like that version of yourself. If you don’t like what you see, then change it.  This is the only way to fully heal and step away from the shadow of suffering.

It is physical love that desires personality.  Therefore physical love desires division. In this division our spirit and soul detach from the personality of the ego.  We begin to find out more about ourselves the further we hitchhike along the highway of spiritual goodness. We begin to contemplate the value of our self-worth.  In doing this we start to lose sight of the mirage of failure that we see within ourselves.  More important, we start to see what it is we love about ourselves.  And this is what unconditional love is all about.  If you can’t love yourself unconditionally, you will never know the true meaning of unconditional love.

When we love ourselves unconditionally, all that is supreme begins to support the foundation of Love.  This is when Love becomes what God intended it to be.  We then walk towards the light of death without worrying about our self-placed value.  Instead we worry more about stabilizing the realities of life and mystical love for those we care about and for the generations to come.  Please forgive me but it’s about to get a little deep in here.

You see love cannot be just a means to the ends of salvation and redemption. Love is the creation of a new life.  Love is not a conceptual spirit.  For it cannot be blind to the existing personality as a whole.  Love must embrace the spirit, the soul, and the ego.  And be the foundational sanctuary for the multitude of entities within us.  If the source of spirit is abstract and isolates itself from the soul, the soul cannot give rise to love for a living being.  This is when the ego makes an appearance as a false being looking desperately for physical love—all the while hiding with clever intent amongst the shade of lust.

True love means the descent of the spirit into the body and soul. The nature of spiritual love must bring light and wholeness into the life of a soul. This is what gives meaning and connection to everything. Without the spiritual principle of love, the life of the soul shatters into disconnected and meaningless experiences.  The self-absorbed persona of love then vanishes into the void of perpetual heartbreak.

From here the nature of physical love plays hide and seek with the spirit of love.  Physical love then becomes abstract—fantasizing to be spiritual—while ignoring the soul altogether.  This is not Love at all, neither physical nor spiritual.  It is a vicious cycle that the Ego thrives within its repetitive sense of toxicity.   This is nothing more than love of an idea and not love for a living being.  Love then becomes idolatry and loses its truest depth to that of illusion.  It is easy nowadays for us to all fall in love with the idea of love.

The idea of love makes it easier for us to project what we expect of love upon another being.  The idea of love liberates us from fighting Love’s eternal tug o’ war within us.  But I must mind you—this is a battle that cannot go unchallenged.  It must be fought and you must come out loving yourself more than you love any other.  Not to say that you should always love yourself more than others, but in order to fully love, you must first love yourself.  Then that love will trickle down and water the seeds of love planted all around you.  If the war within goes neglected the idea of love swells into a fantasy. It will become one that you may never be able to escape with reality in tow.

It is when we turn and face the ever-lasting war within ourselves that the truth of Love starts to surround all that we see.  Once you look Love in the eye, everything you see looks to be layered in spirituality.  Then the physical aspects of Love give way to a more spiritual stance in life and as to what the shape of true Love really is.  It is when we go to war within the dualistic nature of ourselves that the spirit and soul team up to squander the ego—with its illusory demeanor—once and for all. This is when we finally break free from the chains of selfish desire.

Spiritual Love

It is human nature to love physically instead of spiritually. The physicality of love is fragmentary, mixed with a passionate desire that distorts the true meaning of love. Physical love often prevents us from seeing another’s personality as a whole.  Instead we direct our perception upon the other’s fragmentary pieces, and offer our own sound advice on how they should put their own puzzle back together.  This is of course done without any sort of collective bargaining agreement and the puzzle within remains incomplete.

This is why it is important to put your own inner puzzle together before you allow anyone the chance to do it for you. There isn’t a single soul out there that can piece your puzzle together except for yourself and God.  And once you begin to see the truth in this, you will find your puzzle being pieced together with an inner peace you thought had long been lost in the infinite fray beneath the couch cushion.

Physical love is impotent because it is unenlightened and partial, spoiled by selfish ways and bound by the strivings that bind with the lust of Ego. Physical love is tainted by a jealousy that positions love in the realm of idolatry. This is where the idea of love carries more clout than the Spirit of love. But it is true, Love is more than a feeling.  It is more than an experience.  It is the manifested presence of God in your heart.  For love is the fruit of the Spirit.

Spiritual love is not meant to consume physical love in its entirety, but to transform, enlighten, and strengthen it with a transcendent force that is relative to unique wholeness and to the meaning of that which is unconditional love.  Spiritual love is a seed planted within you by you.  It is a seed planted alone, and the fruit only grows by watering the seed with faith.  For it is the fruit of the Holy Spirit that describe to us what true Love really is.

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.  And those who belong to Christ have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live by the Spirit, let us also keep stride with the Spirit.  Let us not become conceited, provoking one another, envying one another.

Galatians 5 : 22-26

You see God created us all in His image. This means we are created to love.  We are created to need love and more important to give love.  We are all connected with Love, tied by the thread of God’s Love for all of us.  As the world stands today, a lot of people do not know what true Love is. As society becomes more focused upon external distractions, love is being developed as a distorted physical feeling, piling up like counterfeit debt upon the lost soul.

My question is how do we transition this upon the facet of the future.  We can start by teaching this to our children.  Because let’s be frank, our generation is pretty much past the point of f*cked.  It’s our children that we must plant this spiritual seed of love within. Even if you do not fully believe, it would be wise to plant the seed of God and Love in your child because once the seed starts to grow within them, it is only going to grow within you as well, because you are a part of the Tree Of Life.  We will dive deeper in the depths of this problem down the road.

If there is only one thing you take away from this article, let it be this.  When you see that love surrounds us, it thrives in us, because it is God that lives within each and every one of us.  When you see that the grace of God is love, you will finally experience true Love, for you are feeling the presence of God’s glory.  God is love and God is spirit, so therefore the Spirit of Love exists in each and every one of us.

-BeLove


Living The Dream

Recognize what is in your sight, and that which is hidden from you will become plain to you. For there is nothing hidden which will not become manifest.

-Christ

These ends of mine

should mean to meet

one would think

when walking down a one way street.

 

So for now take a seat

kick back and relax those feet

—go on get some rest

as the day is undressed

by tonight’s nurtured nest.

Soon I’m going to need you all

at your very best.

 

But if you have any needs

while I’m tending to these seeds

in this garden of good deeds.

I’ll be right over here

serenading songs of Shakespeare

through a distant whisper

for it is true—Love is something

that all souls can hear.

 

But it is time for a new endeavor

something with a bit less pressure.

Once stuck in the depths of a river

that flowed to a place called never

but upon the horizon I now see forever.

 

The pounding beneath your chest

might be me giving it my best

because of time I am no longer pressed

see these steps—they move sprite with zest.

 

So as the sun it sets to the west

sung low by a choir of light

smiling in the shape of an angel’s flight

 

It is God above that fills my heart

and I feel something within—brimming

my mind no longer spinning.

 

For that was the day

when fury went the way of forgiven

and greed—well it turned to giving.

You see my friends

It was but a day

when life looked Love in the eye

and the dream took to living.

BeLove © 2018


Be Wilderness

Above all else, guard your heart, for all that you do flows from it.

Proverbs 4 : 23

Over the last decade, I have had this intermittent dream.  This dream has sometimes haunted me but it has mainly kept my spirit fed.  It’s one of those dreams that feel very real in the midst of my slumber.  So real, that I wake up disoriented and it takes me a few moments to establish what is real and what is make-believe.  It was only until then, and now again, upon another rendition of this dream that I’ve started to claw at the surface of it’s significance with the hope that I can pin down the purpose of its meaning through intrinsic interpretation.  The dream always begins in the same exact setting.  My actions and decisions in the depths of the dream have always been the driving force as to which direction I take to reach my destination.  A destination that is still very much up in the air, because in the dream, I never reach it.  Not that I am aware of at least.  I would like to take some time now and share the dream with you.


I come to be awakened on a mountainous boulder.  I stand upon shaky knees balanced high above an extravagant raging river flowing furious with Old Man Winter’s runoff. The morning wasn’t breaking so much, as it was infiltrating through my blurred vision.  I am entrenched in some vast and splendid wilderness.  The only sound other than the deafening silence of loneliness is the symphony of an unhinged river’s rage.  My first thought, is whether or not the trout are biting?  Where’s my fly rod?  I look all around and see that it is nowhere to be found.  “Son of a bitch,” I mumble to myself.  My head floats on a swivel as I assess my surroundings.  There is a vague plume of smoldering grayish smoke about a football field’s length from where I stand.  I assume that it’s the remnants of last night’s warming fire, or maybe it’s a burning bush.

Campfire

I am captivated at the spectacular scenery that encompasses me.  It’s the most picturesque sight I’ve ever laid my eyes on.  The morning sun is awakening from its slumber and painting the mountains purple in their majesty.  As the golden hour washes over the craggy cliffs that tower over me to the north, I think to myself what a sight for eyes sore with solitude.  There is a chilled crispness to the air that is evident with every breath I exhale.  I shiver with the essence of something similar to seismic activity rippling through the core of me.  Could this be a celestial vibration that I am on the right path?  This tricks my mind into believing that a shroud of warmth will follow in the friction of my frivolous movement.  Which it does, but only for a waning moment.

Without an inkling of warning, the radiant brilliance of sunshine is swallowed by the looming threat of a surging storm.  The wind begins to carry a swiftness behind it that nudges my stability into a stumble.  In the sense of simultaneous, I reclaim my balance and I manage to reorganize the awareness of my environment.  My complacent moment of reflection is now superseded with a sudden urge to seek some place a bit more sheltered.  I succumb to the shivering sound of silence again.  I am cold and extremely parched from thirst.  I barely gather myself and plot my escape from this elevated pedestal of uncertainty.  The only way down is a slippery slope soaked in imprecision.

Fog

I start my descent down a trail I have no familiarity with whatsoever.  The brewing storm begins to serenade the uncharted wilderness with a booming, marching thunder—sprinkled with flickering bursts of magnificent light.  A steady mix of cold rain and snow beckons from above.  My walk moves into an opportunistic sprint.  I sense a hint of fear and become scared; unaware of the conditional circumstance that awaits my lack of carefulness.  I stumble again but this time balance escapes me and I fall.  As I fall, I try and let my limbs go limp.  I do this under the instinctual cognizance that external limbs are less likely to break or snap like twigs when not constricted with fear.  In focusing upon this my head introduces itself to the hardest substance it has ever felt and I fall unconscious.  After a few moments, I come around back to my senses.  By hook or by crook, I manage to pick myself back up.  My head is screaming with a sharpening discomfort that buries healthy pleasure with an unsettling pain.

In the depths of my agony, I realize that I clumsily yet successfully maneuvered my way down the mountain.  I stagger around for a moment and slowly digest that I have no idea where I was before, let alone now.   The smoldering smoke from before is now thick and heavy—its density has consumed every bit of clarity I had left about me.  I start traipsing through the fog; I have no sense of direction.  I feel like Vertigo is just sitting back, waiting to confuse the issue more than it already is.  I walk for what seems like an eternity, feeling like I will never reach a destination.  I think to myself, am I dead?  Could this be Purgatory?

Thirst is all I can think about, what I wouldn’t do for one sip of water.  My head is still screaming at me and the smell of some metallic tinge is following me like a wafting cloud.  The genesis of exhaustion steals my strength and I decide to take a breather.  I lay down with my burdens in hand, crossed upon my heart and I close my eyes.  Thirst and warmth fill my mind but even the comforts of home can’t keep the exhaustion at bay any longer, I fall asleep.  Even with all of the misfortunes that have graced the short-lived morning I sleep like a rock.

I am startled awake by the sound of a snarling animal.  Scared, scarred and shaken, I quickly stand up—dizzy.  Sudden fear enshrouds the wooziness in my head and I make sure my presence is noisily felt.  Adrenaline alone allows my equilibrium a chance to achieve even distribution.  I can see nothing in the fog, but the snarls are now more of an echo and seem further away than I originally thought.  I gather anything I can find that will help me defend myself, nothing more than a few sticks and stones.  “Hopefully they wouldn’t break my bones,” I whispered to myself as I collected them.  “At least my sense of humor was still going strong,” I thought proudly.  With a ginger demeanor, I walk in a brisk manner towards the opposite direction of the echoing snarls.  They seem to be growing closer the further I get from them.    In the shuffling madness, I catch my breath and I start to run again.  All of the sudden, the stability of solid ground was flooded by an icy soaked, but buoyant brook of excitability.

Hallelujah, it was water.  Miraculously, I had happened upon the river again.  In a baptismal elegance I fall to my knees, submerging my aching head into the rivers depth; my hands interlock themselves into a chalice.  The river is littered with glacial silt.    I remind myself to not let gluttony get the best of me.  I allow myself enough to quench the parched feeling that had hindered me throughout this shortened pilgrimage.  I am tempted to indulge until my heart’s delight, but I know that will only be detrimental to my well being down the road of this journey.  In my ecstatic behavior of blessedness, I neglected to notice the snarls were still very much on my tail.

The Perfect Swimming Hole

The denseness of the fog was lifting itself in a tedious manner and visibility was beginning to show itself again.  The only way to safety was through this river of Doubt.  I vaguely glance upon an echelon of rocks, strung together and placed conveniently for my stride.  I take the steps one by one, slow and steady wins the race, I thought.  I turn to look for whatever it was that has been trailing me since my fall.  In the faint distance, I can finally see what has been hunting me.  I see a wolf that looked to be plotting his next move, for he is as thirsty for blood, as I was for a drink of fresh water. I have a hunch that I haven’t seen the last of him.

I continue upon the stepping-stones with ease to my stride. The river grows mighty in its wake.  The farther I follow this path into the remote midst of this river, the more vibrant and sunny everything becomes.  The air has a warming touch to it now and I was gaining strength as clarity was becoming more constant.  The steps were starting to demand longer strides and I even had to wade in the water from time to time.  Then came the next challenge.

I was walking these stones for at least a mile and still no sign of the west bank of this river I have now dubbed Doubt.  Now here I stood on the last solid rock.  The glacial silt seemed to ablate itself from Doubt.  Roughly twenty feet below me was a budding stretch of backwater; followed by another pattern of rocks that perceived a promising path.  I carefully careen myself down the last slab of solidity that I could see.  I am knee deep in Doubt now, her waters, clear and chilly.  I drink from her until my heart’s delight.  I am amazed at the pulsating autumn hues that grace the forest around me.  The bursts of orange, yellow, and red—paint the landscape with a buffering beauty.  I shiver again from the soothing sensation of vibrational purpose, and wade with bewilderment.   The reverence I have for this wilderness is deep.  As deep as the river Doubt is about to get.

Up Close Waterfall

The pattern of rocks only got further away from one another as I waded towards them.  In my carefree comportment I didn’t notice that Doubt’s waters had risen with rapidness.  I began to panic, and as it grabbed my legs, well you know?  It pulled me in.  The icy and submerging blanket of water acted like shock therapy and triggers that everlasting instinct for survival.  I notice a large piece of driftwood floating with more poise than me and push my way towards it through the vicious current with every ounce of energy I have left.   As I am within arms reach of my saving grace I shiver again; followed by the most acute pain I have ever known.  The last thing I remember resembles the immersion of drowning.

I come to be revived on a pebbly beach.  I was spooning a piece of driftwood half my size as though it was a pillow.  My head is splitting with an ache but the air is steadily warm now, almost arid.  My damp clothes are the only thing between the luxury of warmth and me.  The river Doubt had turned into a creek that was now just a trickle of murky looking sludge.  The harsh reality sinks in that I have drifted far away from where I believe I belonged.  For the lush wilderness had become a barren desert.  I take off my top layer of clothing and lay them out to dry.  I canvas my newfound surroundings and see that there is only an inkling of shade beneath a ballooning bush of sagebrush.  This shade could only be used as shelter from the scorching sun for maybe two hours a day. I look behind me and see the monumental mountain reaching for Heaven above while nothing but sagebrush and high desert for the foreseeable future ahead of me.  Hunger pangs are making themselves known now.  I scrounge for something to eat.  I find nothing but a handful of ants.  I eat them and it is true, they are crunchy and sour.  I make a fool of the pangs by chewing on some sagebrush.   The sagebrush becomes a brief but nonetheless shaded shelter from a fierce sun and its cold-blooded heat.  I take off my shirt and use it as a pillow.  The shade summons me silently to sleep.

Vision

I wake up blistered from the scorching sun.  The sun was at its daily peak burning everything that lies in its wake.  Shade was nowhere to be found.  I put my shirt on and it feels like the incendiary ants I ate earlier as a snack are stinging me.  “Karma, is an instant bitch,” I scream silently.  The pain quickly becomes unbearable as it feels like I am being broiled.  I have no choice to go back into the wilderness, but first I had to climb the monumental mountain.  The mountain of eternity seemed to rumble with agreement as rocks start to tumble down the slopes with an awaiting earnestness.  The mountain was as massive as it was intimidating.  It interrupts the rolling desert plain with an abruptness that sprawls ten thousand plus feet into the horizon, almost out of midair it seemed.

I was more ready for this climb than I believed I was.  I start singing at the top of my lungs; maybe I was hoping for one last possibility that someone might hear me, or maybe I was just a bit stir crazy,  “Standing on a hill in my mountain of dreams, telling myself it’s not as hard, hard, hard as it seems.”  I try my best at impersonating Robert Plant but I am positive I do it no justice whatsoever—I imagine the Hammer of the Gods are laughing out loud at me.  As I expected, only silence followed, still I felt a little zanier yet confident than just a few minutes before.  At least my sun-drenched sanity was still sticking around for the time being.

Moondance

“Time to go.” The voice said as clear as the afternoon was. I spun around, spinning with bewilderment.  There was no one within a day’s walk of me.  Yet the voice was shrilling with a sense of comfort.  Maybe it was the stern approach that would not allow me to take the demanding tone lightly.  Without question, I started moving with fleetness.  I proceeded to blaze my own trail up the mountainous terrain.  I must’ve gotten my underrated second wind because I covered an extensive amount of ground, in a short period of time.

Just before dusk I had to slow to a steady pace to assess my situational circumstances.  The wilderness was becoming thick and the forest was filling itself out like a puzzling maze.  Humidity filled the air and night was beginning to fall.  The dew was beginning dampen the environment with a chill that stuck to my bones.  Though the colder air acted like aloe on my scorched skin, and I welcomed its comfort.  I slowed down but kept moving at a steady pace.  My path now carried more clarity with it than I had seen so far on this everlasting journey.  My motivation was bullying me into another exhaustive state but the adrenaline wouldn’t quit pumping through my blood.  I came to a sudden stop, when I thought I heard the snarls again.  It was nothing but an insect the size of my forearm, humming a sort of wilderness lullaby. But in the distance I heard the howling of a wolf, and instead of becoming frightened, I felt security wash over me, I was no longer the only living entity within this wilderness.

I stumble upon a path.  This is another sign that I am indeed headed in the right direction.  And as I come upon a fork in the path that heads in different directions—I become surprised with the pleasantry of a sign.  For a sign, signaled hope.  The sign shared the following morsel of wisdom.   Here lies the confluence of two, once mighty rivers.  One was called Soul, the other Ego.  One must choose between the paths wisely for there may not be another opportunity for you to find your way to the Promised Land in which you seek.  I kneel and pray, the voice answers with a vibrational pulse that echoes through my entire being.  I walk towards the merging trails.  I converge my steps between the both of them and I walk with purposeful intention through the valley of the shadow of death.  I begin to bushwhack my way through my metaphoric fear and leave it behind, where it belongs.

IMG_7889

I feel a few raindrops grace my presence and notice a mountainous thunderhead forming over my head.  I do not fear this storm because I know it is all in my mind.  But as the storm begins to drop golf ball sized hail upon my head, I pray for something to shelter me from the storm.  I walk brisk down the path and as I turn a corner, much to my delight there is an old outhouse.  I fall with exhausted grace into its storm-shielding demeanor.  I am content in the solitude of this ageless four-cornered Calvary.  And I see an inscription of scripture carved upon the wall.  And just below it was an insignia of biblical times.

Arrow

He made my mouth sharp like a sword; in the shadow of his hand he hid me; he made me a polished arrow; in his quiver he hid me away.

Isaiah 49 : 2

As I finish reading this profound scripture the walls around my head start to cave in, and I hear the shrieking laughter of a child.  Soon there followed the sweetest voice my ears have ever heard.

“Daddy, wake up.  Naptime is over.”

I scream startled waking from an afternoon snooze, dazed and confused.  He had dove  upon my chest.

Shaking with sudden comfort, he says to me, “Dad, what are we going to do now?”

“Save the world my child, at least for you, that’s what we are going to do.” saying with confidence.

“Okay, but first can we go to the river?” he asks.

“Of course we can kiddo, but after the rain stops,” I say much to his dismay.

The steady rain patters away on the roof, putting my mind at an ease it hasn’t felt in quite some time.  My vision is no longer blurred and I realize my purpose now.  The light flows from my heart to my mind will never be dimmed ever again.  It was time the dream turned to reality.

  -BeLove