#reflection #poetry #poem #creativewriting

Time is a line, not a wheel.
   We swerve left and right,
yet are, hardly, right inside,
  not left or right, balanced
  within with what truly we
   know, for sure, our best,
 becoming self has on rise
of reflective turnaround,
 rolling straight with a map.
In the mirror are sirens.
 A friend helps.  A friend
helps not.  Best of bends,
 by the maps, my friend,
mercy, is choice in two—
  hard or easy, less or more.
More for who?  A name—
 naming is not necessary.

#journal #writing #story

You were with the kitchen sink, to say, the illusion you were by alone was the image you saw, for they say “everything but the kitchen sink.”  I think the joke was on you, however; you’re not alone.  There were things, most of who you are, you wouldn’t tell souls you saw as strangers.  Maybe you were famous, incarnated prior, and held a place of power but choked on secrets as a set pole, an illusory end stuck with a strong root below the surface and the flag end correct but a minuscule aspect of the whole impression.  The bigger impression was the unseen.  So, you scrubbed pots after closing, nearby 1.  I remember your cheer and excitement to work.  You trained new workers and you weren’t even twenty, even educated and articulate enough to train new, Mexican workers.  You helped out a lot.  You wanted to benefit the whole.  You told yourself to do better.

Here I am, used none of my wisdom, except for acclaim, this time around, in the know.  I’m upset because my habits, now, aren’t play or trifle.  Education before it becomes knowledge isn’t even a drop in the bucket.  Use requires action, experience.  I’m hungry, watching my favorite tv program.  What’s wrong with too many chips?  A touch of loss in the act of consumption.  I steal regardless of the people around me.  I know when I’m doing wrong.  There with people, the impression I make can have a lack of perpetuation.  Rarely, I’m happy.  A lot of what I do doesn’t greet the impact of light with my true name.  Talents are lost to laziness, and study and plans are time’s pole.  Time is, almost, evaporated.  To cut out things I do a lot for gluttony is to heal, right down to hygiene.

You had the motion of your body for granted.  The tastes you cooked clouded in shade your name.  Importance lay on acclaim and tastes.  You loved a compliment.  You even produced without being asked.  There was no lameness in your aspect of carry.  Practicing wasn’t pretend.  Lines were drawn between where hurt had you for long, but not for long.  You were a capsule of relief for your comforts.  Personal interactions aimed to heighten the other now gets difficult.  The lame aspects of your being have come to dig your grave.

I look at you like my son now.  I am your capsule of relief, since you relieved only in order to stop a chase or anger.  You didn’t have to stick your head in the sand of addiction.  You can bet on pain, the pain you created.  You created the pain of your transformation.  These choices look the same, but benefit is the pain of choice.  Benefitting alone produces pain, though you see pleasure.  The rock before the rising sun isn’t the wall you perceive people placed behind you.  You lean on the wall and wait.  The rock is a tremendous opportunity to learn to climb.  Health is as important as having friends, and it’s the will of the universe and natural your gains are measured on your exercise.  Exercising will away from the wall of what you feel oppresses higher aspects and over the way that you can learn as a beginner makes the insurmountable smaller.  An outline comes first as you walk in the way millions are to the rock of discovery, the rock we share in common, the rock of change. 

“But I know,” I said.  “I see it there and have heard of it.  It’s challenging, it’s universal.  I say, a benefit as no sleep can provide.”

“So why don’t you get excited, take care to proactive love?” you asked.

“I don’t remember receiving any as a child,” I said.  “I’m hurt beyond belief.  The memory is like reliving a war.  That’s why I cry watching war movies and on memorial holidays.  I know how it feels.”

“You’re so clever and creative.  You don’t want to share your better self?” you asked.

“I feel too broken,” I said.  “I can’t breathe.  I can barely stand.”

“You’re supposed to take care of yourself.  Even the dog knows that,” you said, “Don’t you know that?”

“Why do children suffer,” I asked.

You said, “we can suffer as children or as parents for the imprint our desires have impacted, stamped on time through the generations.  Based on who and what our souls have begotten prior to our physical existence, we attract change,  only what our soul knows we have capacity to change or desire to change,  and the way we suffer is relative to how we feel we can, and do, become better for it.   Everyone has a role we should learn from the people we’re with.  Life for the living shapes according to the direction, the strength of their desires, and self control.  Empty desires need purging, even out of thought.  Death needs to happen to things anti unity.  A message is in everything.  Only the living can impact measures of elevation.  The power of control is in controlling less.  We can control ourselves to completely benefit the entire planet.  The wisdom already exists, but for everyone involved a process occurs so every ‘he and another’ helps earn, and only earn,  infinitely higher levels of knowledge and being through the way of learning then knowing in experience.”

“Yeah, so, perfect, I know.  I’m just tired.”

“You slowly begin to take care of yourself,” you said.  “Cry if you have to.  Think of others.  Only you can discern the good through unlocking your gates.”

“I want to start over.”

You said, “but you can sweeten everything now.  You have a cause.  You have merit…  Change.”

“I know.  I’ve seen it,” I said.

#thought #desire

Ideas, complete and pure, bringing happiness, even fleeting fantasy, and time, which, we feel, can thwart with a beating, if these ideas are connected to our desires, can bear harrow or joy.  Holding on to something new, not saying anything to anyone else who may insert a doubt, what do you do?  Write it down so it won’t go away.  Ideas in need of action must have a clear and pure intention, for with unclear or lacking intention, a given idea can be shot for lack of certain certainties: a purpose to benefit, to produce in perpetuity, without taking private benefit harmful to others; to see the way purpose is to benefit others more than self, and outside of material gain; the space to create apart from negativity.  What can get in the way?  Secondary to your desire is your picture, your frame of existence, and everyone who is part of the production.  Saying that you plan on something to someone should open opportunity to breathe, a test of the strength of your vision as well, adding eyes on your plot.  The system is set up that the eyes that see your work withstand based on the contents of your connection to your desire and how your desire is directed outward through your work, whether as a direct line from the consciousness of the Creator or as a valve that courses according to something outside the happiness of the original thought.

Coming from the heart in everything.

The blood of the body is the link to our soul.  It creates a whole by being the point our soul fuses with our physical body.  The soul, completely not physical, is bound to the body through the red blood, and the desires of our souls are expressed through the drive of our hearts, so vital, so powerful the means of our souls’ expression.  Generosity begins in feeling you have something, and you have your soul, and we all have each other to love.  To have and to want are great and fine, though giving energy is the only guarantee to more.  Why? Abundance grows only as a part of the whole. The whole is only the Light of the Creator and every piece of Him, every shard we share in our souls, so, by taking the desire of our soul to share, we can make our every piece of effort a part of the whole, with consciousness. Only the consciousness of the Creator, our soul, has no end, no decay. To thrive in a craving for having more to share, it is what God wants.  It comes from our hearts. Casting a loving heart in to everything we do is primary to receiving the beneficence of the Creator.  A base is appreciation, not for the comfort of having, but for the giving of energy to what we already have.  Wholeness, oneness, is knowing our thoughts and deeds create neverending continuity through consciousness, this is certainty, and our desire comes from the heart. The love in our hearts is never ending.  It is all we have that is wholly of the Light. From the pits of our hearts’ darkness comes a light to others through the act of transformation towards sharing.  To love is not to lust. In knowing our loss is losing knowledge of the existence of the Creator in our hearts and all there is He shares for us to bring in to the world by means of heartfelt generosity, we can begin with the blessing of actions towards the benefit of others, for this is the blessing of our existence, to have to give and who to give, thanks to the Creator. We can take out our selfish desire to create a continuous flow of benefit to everyone. Our gift is in the mystery of hearts.

Choosing the chance of advice.

Choosing to follow advice is taking a chance on someone else and an extra pair of eyes.  I tell myself that I don’t know everything, and that makes me glad.  Whatever someone sees in me, I can accept and turn in to good.  I’m not afraid of what people think about me, and, like some others, I feel it beneficial to accept that I can do better.  Correct advice can be taken as a platform for advancement.  It depends on the intention of the people.  Luck isn’t a gamble when you bet with the odds, and the odd is that some people know better than you.  We can catch gems from being out and hearing a conversation between others.  Who are we to say we’ll fix things on our own?

I took advice on getting out there: the importance of being around people.

Losing isn’t a loss.

Losing isn’t a loss.  It’s a platform.  Sometimes we don’t know where we are until we’ve lost something.  Loss is in not making it something that makes you better.  Plenty have stated this in many different ways.  I have the tendency to beat myself up for making mistakes, but recently I’ve gained the understanding of the blessing in a loss.  Of course, the point is to eventually gain the knowledge and will of action to not fall in the first place, but falling is a guarantee to those who want to manifest something in their lives.  A true loss is in losing the loss, losing it for what it has come to teach.  “Losers” are those who never try.  “Losers” are those who stay down after a loss.  We can lose a million times and still be winners, as long as the goal is kept in mind and striven for.

There is great pain after hurting another, in relationships, but there is much to gain in strength by learning from mistakes, and there is much to gain in desire by wanting to become a better human being.

We should consider writing the books of our lives in pencil so we can use erasers to erase the wounds we cause ourselves and others, and we should always begin our days with a fresh sheet of paper, clean of the woes of the past.

Learning to let go…

Powerfully Uncomfortable

To those attuned to the happenings around the world, some sense of responsibility should be awakened.  Too many, though, wait for the next chaos, wait for the opportunity to blame, like paranoid mothers.  Unfortunately too many do not understand who is responsible.  In a shell of ignorance, too many ignore their own responsibility to the macrocosm.

At the quantum reality level, nothing, not even a thought, can go unchecked–as below, so is above–the butterfly effect.  Some do not have this knowledge, the knowledge that, however disconnected events seem, everything is connected.  I propose that we are the tie that binds everything, that we are meant to manifest the dream of peace, each and every one of us, together, for the purpose of everyone’s common good.

The question is: how much are we willing to sacrifice?  What pain am I able to incur for the benefit of everyone’s common good?  The distance between cause and effect, time, is running short.  Only each individual, themselves, knows what they can do, personally, to overcome their contribution to the mess of the world.  Piece by piece, everyone must awaken to their contribution to the creation of and, in turn, the solution to the world’s problems.  It is not complicated, and it is not easy to choose the discomfort of self-transformation.

I hope I may do my part.

Darkly: The Aftermath

I’m finding it difficult to leave A Scanner Darkly by Phillip K. Dick behind after finishing my blog about it.  I’ve been immersed in it for over a week, and I worked really hard on my last post.  I’m finalizing my thoughts on the story and how it pertains to my own ideas on life…

I think that I share in Bob Arctor’s conflict.  In certain areas of life, we become so steeped in negativity that we lose our ability to climb out of it.  Arctor as “Frank” slowly lost his ability to differentiate between good and bad.  Since he saw darkly, the scanner saw darkly.  In some way, we need to be able to constantly look at our lives through a fresh, clear lens, to be able to hit our reset buttons, or be able to listen to and seek the counsel of someone who loves us and can see the big picture and what we need to do in our lives to progress.   Even if our situation is overwhelmingly good, is it good to rest or ever be satisfied?  Or, is it better to continue to climb even higher, to find a way to extend ourselves even more?

Poor Arctor didn’t really have anyone to trust, anyone who could be his rock.  He sunk in to a group in which nobody could see a path to truth.  Even good people, surrounded by vice, will fall eventually.  I’m very thankful to have some relationships with people who care very much to not let me fall.  I do have problems, but my family and friends and teachers don’t let me become too comfortable the way I am.

It’s good to feel good, but, I believe, that there is always a higher place to climb to.  I believe that we all need a dream to chase and people–teachers, family, friends, lovers–who can help us not fall in to being too satisfied where we are.  Nobody really “makes it” in our world unless everyone does, IMHO.  Either we view life as a constant test to achieve more, to achieve a better version of ourselves, or life just happens to us as if we are victims or just here and gone.  Having dreams is so important.  They are our hope, our path in to the “Light.”  Hopefully more of us wake up to chase more good to have in our lives and the lives around us.  Gaining with an attitude that we are making our lives and the lives of others better is a consciousness that can help pull our innermost desire for happiness out.  I believe that the characters in A Scanner Darkly were missing this consciousness, the consciousness that, whatever good we desire, we must take a piece of it and share it, albeit, in Dick’s fictitious world, the story plays out better the way it is told.

The Blank Page–Nothingness!

The moments when I feel most inspired to write are moments in which I feel that the complete desire of my heart can be expressed in words.  It’s a feeling.  In these moments my desire is so clear, I feel happy, and I feel so certain that people will want to read my work.  Do you have these moments?  It feels like my complete compendium of work is already published, done, albeit, I haven’t even begun!  It can feel quite crazy, because how do I include all of this desire in one work?  Somehow, I feel that I should be able to complete this very quickly, but that’s not how it works.  I don’t think my potential is for one piece of literature or one article or one blog post…  My desire is an ought to be infinite, and that’s why I feel so insane for not beginning my work–my work is endless!

My work is endless, but it has a beginning, and in that beginning all is included, essentially–the joy of writing itself.  These sensations are quite like nothingness, yet include everything.  This is how I want my words to be read when they are published. We, as writers, do have infinite possibilities to write down on the blank pages, which are nothingness incarnate.  We are required to form this nothingness in to something that our readers can relate.  For some odd reason, this all inclusive beginning is at once perfect and chaotic.  Chaotic in that, yes, I want perfection, yet it cannot be expected in a first draft or, necessarily, in first thought.  Perfect in that whatever I decide to put down on paper will be, in its final draft, exactly what I want it to be, totally refined; eventually, I will have shared this raw, infinite desire with all of my readers.  Beyond the words that tell tales is something much more clear, raw, and divine.  My desire and work is to give my readers the most clear and inspiring picture of my innermost, pure desire.  My tales will be more than stories; they must touch all of my readers at their core, at their desire.

My idea of the work I want to produce is a work that peels the layers off of raw desire.  I want to create a body of work that at first glance may seem a little bit chaotic or ordinary but under the inspection of avid readers finally reveals the core of inspiration in the raw. I fall in the school of writers that believes that creative writing cannot necessarily be taught.  I believe that really good writing is a talent to be developed through practice.  My problem is the insanity that the blank page, the nothingness, poses to me at the outset because I’m a total perfectionist when it comes to my storytelling.  For whatever reason, to me the nothingness, the blank page and the idea in my head, already contains everything and my work in creating a draft to share may produce an abomination. I’m hyper-self-critical (a Virgo).  I need to figure out how to begin my creation without necessitating perfection at the outset, because I’ve begun plenty of times, but I have never finished a good story.  I’ve had spells of not desiring to become an author, possibly out of frustration, but the desire to be published and widely read always comes back full force.  I can’t say no to trying to produce a body of work; my desire for it is too strong, so my job is to begin and allow myself to learn from my mistakes.  I must be able to allow myself to make errors, to besmirch the nothingness, to produce things that nobody wants to read in order to finally create something that many readers will enjoy.  I came upon a quote by Ray Bradbury today that has inspired me to begin to create fiction:

“Write a short story every week. It’s not possible to write 52 bad short stories in a row.”

Maybe I’ll post my work in this blog…  Not too sure about that–any advice on publishing original short fiction inside your blog?

The Blank Page

#911 #VHS #News

Back when I had a TV in my bedroom, I remember getting ready and my dad informing me to turn on the news.  I was toweling off from the shower before school, community college.  At school I wondered if i should have even come to school.  During the same week, sometime close to the terrorism attack, I saw an old friend from high school.  I asked him if he felt that we should all make changes.  After the attack, to me, it felt like the good and evil, light and dark side of the force, battle was for real.  This all came a few months to a year after I had a dream, while attending Johnson & Wales culinary school in Charleston, SC, about alien battles in the sky, aliens, gods, like in Zecharia Sitchin’s Books.  Lasers and flying beings attended the dream.  Later in life I had a dream I was out, kind of in a camper, at a concert or football game or some event, and I was smoking cigarettes with a girl in my English class at Georgia State University, Newports (I’ve, today, switched to menthol cigarettes).  There were moons spreading out of moons, and we were all running when we realized something was happening.  We wanted to buy pizza.  Running, a wild cat’s growl echoed down the tunnel we were traversing, running.  I chanted “PENN STATE PENN STATE PENN STATE” down the tunnel excitedly.  I had a bunch of weird dreams after 911…  Like Sci-Fi dreams…  But not since graduating college in ’08…

Maybe the old routine has settled in.  Yeah, for sure the old routine has settled in.  The spark of youth is gone…