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

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


Potter’s Field

The crypt you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.

I climbed the fence

to old man potter’s field

where the fog hung low

just above the ground.

 

While I looked all around

those eerily empty tombs

this is what I found.

 

Where there stood

a certain headstone

void of a name

instead etched with inscription

’twas a bit of wisdom

written with a twist

and this is what that epigraph read:

 

“Remember me, as you pass by,

as you are now, so once was I,

as I am now, you too shall be,

so prepare for resurrection and follow me.”

 

With a pen and paper in hand

I left a silly note—

a small little anecdote:

 

“To follow you, I won’t consent,

for I do not know which way you went.”

BeLove © 2018