Can’t rebuild with broken pieces, its like trying to see yourself in a pieced together mirror, you’d be more confused and make the fatal mistake of assuming it for enlightenment. Death to self has and will have a prolific process. It will not be easy. It will definitely not make sense without the proper foundation either.
Inner city of cement, all beauty null,
what seed is planted such child will grow.
What parents plant, such man they’ll harvest:
Brokenness, Grief, and Sadness
Not part of Parent’s dream,
Fears, sorrow, and anguish
From inner child’s screams.
All within the inner ear rings,
For years the child turned man
Buried under 6 feet of indifference.
Beauty block is a heart clot,
Build up of intellectual cement.
A mind clogged; the artist clouds
The world with hazy entertainment.
What the mouth speaks flows from the heart,
And so shuts his mouth when he coughs
His world is hardened,
He spits cement;
Fashioning a city
By his inner complexion
My deepest apologies are matched by my deep regrets. It hurts me so where only a smile can deceive the cunning, but a broken yet wise heart can only sense. My great longing for meaning is without a source, i am without tangible caressing of its gentle and comforting hand. All day long I felt the absent hand of impending doom, and a doom so selfishly I wished upon the world. If my pain is not known, then who better to sympathize with me then those who are in utter ruin? So, in the swell of my worries I harboured evil in my heart like a monk in deep meditation. What am I suppose to do when the world demands physical and all I have is a profound love of the spiritual? I try to write these words impressed on my soul, yet I go to chapters and lo behold, there are the words written stright out of my heart. Can i sink any lower and dispair?
My belonging is with purpose yet the purpose i believe belongs to me is written out and on a shelf. Where do i find my solace?
I turn to God in a philosophical way. I ask, Lord what is my purpose? What is my call to life? And then i hear that hallowing sound deep in my nerves, that sound of absolute meaninglessness. As if the response of silence is the answer: To live and to die.
All the experiences in between just winds of a fleeting moment, a constant reminder of my finite self. But in my heart or in my mind i see a life immortal. Immortalized in my vision of a life worth living. I see that if I give myself a reason ill find that reason will unfold itself. If i envision a life of riches riches will unfold before me thus ill find that im rich beyond belief. As I define the lifestyle i wish to express I find in my definition my purpose. As all feels well in my soul i cannot help but feel that all this striving for purpose is for nothing, and i seek again on my knees “Lord, what is important?”
Its hard to focus. All the issues that seem insurmountable surmounting me. Im a mountain moved by the little faith of the demons in pursuit of my soul. I scream fuck, but no echo. I cry, but no tears. I fight for my life, but im alone.
Im in a cycle of hopelessness. Perhaps ive sided with that end. Perhaps ive gone so far beyond grace that hell is the place that finds its own in me. Im so cold that hades warms its hands by my heart. Though, here I am crying out to God, the warmer of my soul, the drummer of my heart, the ocean in my veins. What is my purpose? What is important?
Must he answer me? Am I so use to having pleasure of a response that I can’t brave the weather of silence to find that if i seek ill see it right before me? Am I so use to the sounds the world makes about looking a certain way or being a certain type, or having a certain thing that Ive neglected my own sound?
I open my eyes. My problems are still here. My debt is wild. My bank is empty. My stomach is growling.
Damn, my knees are sore.
My inner musings stand silent. Still isn’t always productive.
It reeks with noise as it scatters all hope for repose.
Planned, unplanned musing drenched atmosphere.
“It” being The Coffee house, stifling stimulation.
Is this what was planned for me today? Did fate walk me into this frame work woven into the hour, or did I by choice, like everyone here, weave myself into the atmosphere of this balanced social chaos?
Why did I come here? To discover that the coffee was good? To feel the rush of fairtrade organic coffee spin me into a hyper stimulated thought thing?
This is unlike my usual existential musings. Normally I’d gather all the useless things Im doing with my life and crystallize it into a single activity called “my job,” dread the next twenty-years because I assume thats where I’d be, then die. Yet, locked in this moment of this social setting, a mere spur of the moment thing, here I am, just floating above, or drowning in the noise of life.
I’m calm, not quite right, a little dizzy (must be the coffee) with directionless chatter…elevating the creative vibration within this lighthouse of stimulation:
Through the fog the creatives walk towards the light, towards the rock they crash and find that here their thoughts can reign.
To those whom took their time to read, like, and follow, I say a warm heartfelt thank you.
The last few days I’ve been publishing here on WordPress what I think will add value to those who read. I too want to honor and respect your time.
I realized why my résumé is not “a strong one” (I took what the interviewer said yesterday morning to heart. I learned something about myself.)
The words my interviewer said,
“it seems like you’re job hopping…”
In between the lines of these experiences is some kind of professional struggle, in fact some of these experiences were unnecessary but when you need to get something done you do anything to get it done. I’m committed to getting the job done. I seek challenges. I don’t stop until I accomplish, or attain a certain standard consistently. Apart from my corporate life, I was a full-time travelling professional artist. My attitude and my skills were sharpend when I joined a team of dedicated and hard working professionals of the craft. We travelled across Canada speaking a multifaceted message of hope through hip-hop elements.
When I retired from the professional world of impacting youth and young-adults for the corporate life, I noticed that the people around me peaked at a low level and stayed there. After working hard to attain something personally what do you think I would want professionally?
I discovered that Im hungry! I want the thrill of the challenge, but most importantly I desire to grow.
The way I see the world is that we ALL POSSES GREATNESS, we have the capacity to become great, that inner excellence to excel.
We have entrepreneurial capacity, creative capacity, growth guru capacity, whatever we can imagine is unlimited, but our capacity can be limited by those around us. Iron sharpens iron and I want to be sharpened into the sharpest piece of iron out there.
I left a lot of jobs prematurely, for good reason, they lacked what I was seeking, they capped because they were content. Im hungry. Like Art Williams, I too have this fire underneath my butt to get something done, to go out and achieve greatness, to mold myself into the best that there can be. Never settling for less than I know I can work to achieve.
Im thankful for the harsh words from my interviewer, I know myself a bit more.
Somedays I go about carrying my book by hand rather than by bag. Today a beautiful woman asked me why not bring it with you by bag? Which took me by surprise. Normally I don’t get as much as a blink or a yawn. I wanted, to the best of my ability, to be honest. My response, as clearly as I can remember it,
“… so to carry what Im about, rather than having free hands to play with todays distractions; I carry myself, I bring with me into the present that which is, I bring with me what I am.”
Our conversation didn’t last very long, she had to get off a station before mine. It was nonetheless an insightful, short chat. If only these conversations could be more frequent.
Food > Passion
Its hard to focus
…but right now
My food is my passion
The Law of Vibration operates within a frame work. The Law of Vibration works. It is a hard worker. It knows its intent and is intentional. It doesn’t just sit around hoping to be called upon. There are rules it abides by, therefore none are exempt from abiding by them either. Work.
If I could
To the Call,
Under Canadian winters,
To those whom have taken the time out of their day to read, and like my posts, and to my followers I say a heartfelt thank you.
Your ‘like’ goes a long way inside these turbulent times.
Earlier today I had a job interview. The interviewer within his right picked my résumé apart. However, these résumés only reflect the good times. Literal, critcal, and simply good business sense he’d be as wise as a serpent to rip into it, but, perhaps if he had developed the intuitive sense of reading in-between the lines he might have seen the struggle that it took to put those experiences on paper.
I didn’t say anything except thanked him for his time.
I walked out, head held high. Pulled a chair at Tim hortons and asked myself, ever wonder what you’re going to do about a problem so deep that the skys a dot? I wrote this in my note book (I prefer longhand over typing), four pages of contemplation later I arrived at the same answer I discovered two-years ago:
Keep going. Give thanks. Keep climbing the word-ladder towards the top – keep writing