Accomplish

Hard to know if I have ever accomplished enough. What is the measure? What is the scale? When will I rest, in peace, able to look back on accomplishments and be satiated, satisfied? The ego is strong, pulling me into constant motion, relentless in its search for approval and atonement. What is my measure of success? What must I prove, to others, but most importantly myself, in order to truly and fully surrender to nothingness?

Divine Principle

"Consider the Spirit as a warm, pulsating, reciprocal thing. It presses against us, it flows through us. It is our intelligence. It is a great universal urge and surge. It is a warm colorful thing. It is a beautiful thing. It cannot be put into words. You can only feel it. But consider the Law as a cold fact, nothing else. It has no motive of its own. It is just a power, a blind force, but it is an intelligent, an executing and immutable force. The law is the servant of the Spirit. Consider creation -- whether it be the vast body of the Cosmos or the suit of clothes or dress we have on -- as some effect of intelligence operating through law and you have the whole proposition as clear as can be that there is a power in the universe which knows, a law which does, a creation which corresponds. Creation does not respond; it only corresponds. Now that is what we mean when we speak of Divine Principle. Divine Principle is not God any more than electricity is God. It is a law of God, just as electricity is a law of God. It is a mental law of cause and effect. When you impress your thought upon it, it is its nature to take that thought and execute it. If there is destruction in the thought, it must destroy. If there is good in the thought, it will execute goodness or healing. This is the principle governing spiritual science, and unless such a principle were, spiritual science could not be. Know that there is something more than law; an intelligence to which we may come for inspiration, for guidance, for direction; a power responding to us, a Presence pressing against us, an animation flowing through us, a light within us."

- Ernest Holmes, "Science of Mind"

Capacity to receive

The great lesson is that life delivers itself into our capacity to receive it. The outpouring from the cosmic horn of plenty can only fill the cup that is lifted up toward it. A pail turned on its side cannot be filled with rain from heaven. 

- Ernest Holmes

sitting with fruit

divine

eyes

olive

skin

natural

cotton  

winged

back

melodic

stride

original 

sin

tropical

fruit

dancing

tips

cheshire

smile

held

breath

soft

delivery

seeking

mind

yearning

spirit

divine

eyes

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.

Flight

winged creatures;

hopping around 

buzzing by a bush

swooping from the sky

brown and beige

yellow and black

green purple and grey

winged creatures;

after my crumbs

after my blood

after my clean car

 

Future of Alone

After a very good visit with mom for her birthday, I am left with some good advice. You know, I haven't really listened to my mom this way in a long time. I think I've stopped listening to her advice, because it's always contradictory to what I want to be doing. If I have a positive idea, she will caution me of the side effects. If I have a negative view, she will remind me that there's hope on the other side. She's always playing devil's advocate, and really, she's the reason I have - what I believe to be - a good moral compass, and a non-judgemental approach to the world (albeit perhaps slightly skewed towards skepticism).  In this situation, when I told her I was afraid of losing those I have held dear when I make my next life move, she said I was worrying for nothing. 

I have been afraid of ending up alone. Alone here. Alone there. Wherever it is that I go, I fear losing the people that fill me with joy and intrigue, finding myself deserted or, worse, stuck living amongst people that don't inspire me or don't see life the way I do. Mom reminded me that no matter where I go, there's always people. It's actually quite hard to escape humans.  At the beginning of the pandemic, just having returned from my three month travels down south, I thought for sure I was doomed to loneliness. A pandemic, locked at home with nowhere to go, meant it would be hopeless to meet anyone new, let alone to live a life filled with human connection. I was devastated, but I managed. Once coming to terms with a bad hand, I figured I'd really get into it and just live the best life I could within these shitty circumstances. There was a short period of time where I learned to live well without much contact with the outside world. But it didn't take long before I found myself surrounded by interesting new people, quickly becoming good friends. New kinds of friends, personalities I could never have imagined by my side. Somehow, during a very isolating time, a new core group of friends emerged. These people now inspire me, push me, love me, challenge me, and I want to give them my whole heart, help them, listen deeply, understand them, and hold them during challenging times. I could never have anticipated this, let alone crafted this on my own; there had to be a whole universe conspiring for me.

So this brings me back to the fear of "being alone" in the future. Or being surrounded by those I don't resonate with. My past can only contradict these unfounded fears. I am more powerful than I give myself credit for. If I want something, I can get it, and I don't necessarily have to know how I'll end up getting what I want. I am starting to believe more and more in the trusting of unfolding. Maybe some will come and go. Maybe I will be alone for a time. Maybe I will end up alone for a lifetime. But how do I know what I'll feel like in my new life? Who says I wouldn't be overjoyed to be alone? What's so bad about being alone anyway? What if I have been preparing to enter this next phase of life, where I cocreate with the quiet stillness of nature rather than with humans? What if I am capable of so much more than I ever thought possible, with my own two hands, without depending on anyone else ... capable of crafting a more beautiful world my heart knows is possible, so that others may enter when they are there to enter, not because I demand them to be here?

Not sure what the future holds. Not sure what I want it to hold. 

But I don't want to let fear of aloneness stop any of it.

Mom says she loves being alone. Could I grow to be more like my mother as I grow older?