Monday, September 27, 2021

Gifts of books and pencils

I ventured out into the rain for a cup of warm something. It ended up being chai. My goal was to sit with myself and sit with the words I had read from my newly magically acquired book, "Essential Writings of Ernest Holmes". 

The finding of this book merits its own explanation; I stumbled upon it the night before, while on my psilocybin-enduced walk around the neighbourhood, after asking the "void" for personal development tools. I walked down and around well-known streets, until I was almost home and decided to take a right into a dimly-lit - somewhat eery - parking lot. I followed my feet, and my blurry vision of what seemed like a children's park at the end of the driveway, and in the corner of my eye appeared a dark box on a stick. My mind couldn't register it at first as it wasn't what I was expecting, and then realized it was a Free Tiny Library. Overjoyed to have found a new one in my hood, I stepped over slowly and wondered what Life had in store for me in here. The first book I found was "The Happiness Project", a book I had seen before in a bookstore. It wasn't what I needed, although right next to it was my book. I'd never heard of Ernest Holmes before! I opened it to a page and noticed there were an exaggerated amount of Capitalized words in it. God. The One. The Eternal. The Creative Power. All these words that made me cringe just a little, but perfectly so. 

I walked home with delight, gold in hand. 

I sensed I had purposefully walked into the night to retrieve what I had left for myself to discover. So far, this book has reminded me of personal power which I had left behind and forgotten years and years ago, a power that I have spoken of in this here blog at least a decade ago. I have lost my magical view of the world, and I intend on getting it back. I have learned much of the physical world, and how to assert myself properly in it, and what words to use for what I am trying to convey, and which posture to assume as I say something with meaning ... now I can rest in knowing that I have learned enough to go back to my mind, and focus on the health of my soul once more. Lay back in the essence of the metaphysical, so it can quench my spirit and feed me with the substance I seek to create pieces that hold intention and meaning once more.

Back to my rainy chai moment! With this spiritual fervor ignited I opened up to the possibility of everything. There was nothing totally different about this time and this day, other than the fat heavy rain pouring down, creating clutters of humans under doorways and street awnings, but I was happy to be here. I wanted the present moment to offer me something magical, something so simple yet effective to remind me that I am on purpose. I was shown just this, in a very unusual package: an older man, hunched over, assisted by a cane, waiting on the patio with his cup of joe and leather briefcase for a spot to open so as not to have to sit out in the rain. I witnessed his dilemma and quickly offered him the chair across from my table, which he was grateful for. He saw me for a split second - notepad and book on table - and asked if I was a writer. "Nope" I said with a smile, and didn't say much else so that I could focus on doing the thing he proclaimed I did. It was mostly reading, much less writing, but quickly my mind turned to the question he posed, "Are you a writer?" Why did I answer no? What makes one a writer? I sat with it for a while, read some passages, wrote them down, and when I peeked up at him he was writing in a little orange notepad. I realized he had asked me this question because he himself was a writer. So on my way out I decided to ask him. "What makes someone a writer?" He didn't have an answer for me, but smiled big in delight of a conversation about writing. I mentioned that I am an artist, and it took me years and years to admit to myself and the world that I was. He said he was going to be an artist next, once he finished writing his book. I told him, well, you're an artist right now, and I am a writer right now! We giggled, unsure of what it all meant, and he reached into the depths of his bag and offered me an unopened case of drawing pencils! Another random gift from the Universe. The pencils are mainly symbolic: I set out intentionally into the world and the world intentionally showed me its gifts. Cal and I exchanged emails and that was that.

A small happening. A big gesture. An affirmation of my choosing Love and Joy in every moment. I am ready to immerse myself in the beautiful intricate metaphysical world again so I may create from this place from now on (as I once did), even when it may seem nonsensical at times. My intuition is that the belief in a beautiful, magical world will propel me forward into such a world, and perhaps even ripple outward to others also.

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