All are not virign to ignorance ,
But all play innocent when they indulge in it’s sin;
The heart’s hands fends off blades by its passion,
Though not all teeth are persuaded from inaction.
All are not virign to ignorance ,
Purpose does not exist to mute out the long drawing hoe from the earth of ones soul. Purpose is not merely the poking stick turning over ashy wood from smouldering the fire in the hearth of ones heart. One can lose sight of excellence when the gnawing wood worms of suffering ceases as one rides the blissful high into another storm. Then nights of sleepless wrestling, fighting for the meaning of this unexplainable, but tonic numbing, pain into the early part of dawn; rising with energy enough for bodily functions, but useful to none.
Do not forget that existence comes with a price. The currency of existence is in the valuable resource time. Much like money, time is not infinite, and one is not limitless.
Pick up the hoe in the field of your heart and strike the fire in the hearth of your soul. The work is plentiful, purposeful, and ready. The earth you wish to cultivate around you, is the element for reviving dead soil, bacteria rich! Though you have but a handful of health, it is enough to start with. Begin where you are, and everyday begin.
A day well used appears to have fit in itself a week of time. A week well used seems to have stretched time longer than he ought to have. He who is faithful with little is given more. But how many days are spent wishing one had not wasted their youth? So late into their life they fail to see the treasury of wisdom that the universal principle found absent in hindsight makes apparent in the moment of their awakening. Not everyone has the chance to live a normal, happy life, but all have the opportunity if they can grasp it somehow, to drink deeply from the well of the wisdom presented to them. In the moment of revealing, they are presented a pool of inner healing, a pool of insight, a portal into the garden of transformation to begin living again. As a result of ones living rightly they invest in the spiritual realm equity which in the physical realm translates into authority.
In my minds eye, I trace my steps throughout the place I work. The halls are littered by doors that swallows one up like the gentle smiles of game carnival hosts. Its one big noise. Though I enter into my work space all the options disappear and Im alone like a dead tree’s shadow in the desert. Those too trying to make a living appear muted, Im the only voice I hear, i say, welcome. It is though they have come from the desert, thirsty, in need of shade in my tent, as I offer them water at premium, and they gladly turn over their pockets for the contents in the cup.
There is nothing wrong with my business, how else will I pay for my bills if I do not swallow my pride? Though this business won’t stand forever, the resovuior will dry up, but I shall be long gone. Though daily my steps leave invisible marks on the ground, I have grooved in mind the steps that I will take having traced it out a thousand times. Thirsty bystanders and passerbys will say, I don’t want the contents, I want the cup. Is everyone stimulated by the surface of things? So as I give them the surface they will like in quicksand, or one struggling in mud find there a depth that brings them deeper into the cavern of their existence. Finding themselves inside the belly of their cup, floating or drowning in the contents they have stored over many inner years.
We are all guests to one life, why not treat each other as such? It isn’t enough to think that we might see each other again on the other side. The gift of life reaches deeper than the sum of ones experiences. It effects us deeper than all the words that describe the humming in the soul. As poetic as life appears, there is no stanza, rhythm, or rhyme by how we make our living or how we make our dieing. We are all guests in the house of permission, of order, of possibility. We are all guests invited to the house by the mark of the breath of life, and given the responsibility to make ourselves, and by so discover what we were from the start made for.
I go about carrying my book by hand rather than by napsack. In my mind other people wonder why not bring it by napsack? I responded in my minds eye, so to carry what Im about, rather than having free hands to toil with the modern day digital distraction, i carry myself, i bring with me into the present that which was conjured in the past, i bring what I am.
Age does not come with time, age is the outcome of an inner time. And the songs we bring out do not come from inner time but by the progression of understanding the experiences wrought by physical time, pressurized within till they are fused together, than mined as jems. Songs are the kidney stones of the working of ones inner time. The beautiful note the singer reaches is both as beautiful and painful as finally depositing that stone within. For so long they harboured that song within, and for many inner years have grown up while all the while without they appear no older than a child.
The pressure that my short time to think these thoughts before leaving for work, aids me to sift out the dross and milk the youthful snake’s venom. Potent and deadly. But there is hope, the days I write these thoughts compressed within a short time are as limited as the days i will leave them to work on someone elses. I will make my living by no more dieing for someone else, but myself.
I will be intoxicated by the work of my own hands. I will give back. What better way to return an investment then by giving back 100x what was invested in me?
Through the snow I couldnt help the thought of being physically well, having good health, though it can be better if I improve my water intake and thought life. But as I approached the edge of the grass I stepped onto pavement simultaneously as well as into an insight. A healthy body cannot suppress the disease that a sick spirit carries. This, I believe I possess, if it were not true would I have broken into a prayer led by the Holy Spirit that prays constantly for me? It was a moment that seems to carry itself over into this moment. It feels more than a memory, and deeper than an experience. Nonetheless, I have an ill spirit, and I need a doctor.
Turning over the thought of religion like a plow pulled by an oxen turning over soil, I find that what is revealed in the land of my heart is dry, cragged soil. No good thing suviving in it. It needs good, moist, bacteria rich soil to mix into it. I need to be around healthy people, or perhaps not, maybe I need to be around the lover of my land, the farmer of his crop, the tiller of his soil. Perhaps I need the soul tiller to breathe health, wealth, and happiness into the deep parts of my being.
I didn’t use perhaps randomly, I used it intentionally, because I have a doubtful mind, and a hardened heart. In my pride I know what is good for me. In my pride I can’t live. In my pride I will like the many examples before me, become baren and fruitless.
I know what will secure health in me that it is giving up the deep pool of material living, of sensual limitlessness, of disregarding the true source of wisdom, it is to give up being a fool. One who knows but continues to walk waywardly, that is the fool. The simple ignorant to misfortune, are not immune to its disease. Like the veil over the bride of chaos seduces, birthing a false courage of unbridled effort to lift and kiss the face underneath. But as the eyes open, their lips upon a beast, a devil a wretched thing, as misery, warts, and anxiety cover them from head to sole. The work of many years to remove the pain, and the scars de-soul, de-spirit them. To give up worshipping life, and to give up the god of life to the God who gave it. Though the rituals of life is fear of losing it. The fear of not having work to sustain one. That is the sweet sweet sound that this god finds pleasing, the deafening sound of fear, the aroma that it finds good the sweat of stress on ones brow.
Leaving the casket of work, I find repose in the repose of the ancients before me. Thoreau is but a babe to Socrates, and soon, by grace and providence I will be but a babe and Thoreau the ancient. I donot consider myself an intellect, but I do consider myself a Father of thought when I have finally birthed it by rite through my dieing by living out the principle it bears.
This morning I sat with anxiety, and focus. Though at the breakfast table of an establishment, I sat in the hurried silence of my inner turbulence. Four seats for guests with me, sat, invisibly, though too familiar my inner family of wrestling wants.
I looked up to see a man directly across from me at another table enjoying his paper. I looked back into my book as Thoreau threaded my thoughts in his gift of insight, i looked up and now saw a different man. How long was my mind attuned to his words in the pages? I couldn’t have had turned more than two pages.This man was older than the first, and sat with no one. Again I retreated back into my book, but this time my focus was scattered, perhaps for a reason. Shortly through the doors of the establishment a little body of no more than five years old ran towards the old man, with her young voice greeted the old man. The old man, in his aged weathered voice, greeted her back. I heard in his voice the joy of being recognized by such a life, but with a subtle dread of having to entertain that which gave that little body life.
I turned back into my book, and read about Thoreau and something about railroads, but my mind was wandering. I saw in my minds eye horses wrapped up in horse stables, all young, strong, and restless. I saw in my minds eye the image of Aragorn soothing a war-torn battle horse, and setting it free. In the same breath of thought that horse symbolized existential dread; to keep captive a wild thing is to control its passions. Horses are wild, and in the wild they are free, and in the wild they find that they are in control of their passions. As I dwell within the confines of the two hours before I return to my stable for eight hours, I cannot help but feel myself buck, sneer, dread, and revile. I ask myself, am I the horse that needs to be set free, or Aragon?
On the way we passed an elementary school, it was recess and all the children were out and about. It was a sobering experience, it was sentimental in some former life. In the pocket of my heart I felt the sweetness of youth, the bitterness of the experiences to come, and the dread of my disposition passing them by. The windows though large were no different than the stagnant bars that made the lines in jail windows. Im no more in a different position than those who committed some horrible crime against society. I have committed the greatest crime against myself, being intertwined in sloth like rapture in my youth. I am now paying the price by working for someone who has in his youth done his due diligence.
Im not being punished, nor am I punishing myself, this is the lot I have given myself.
“You think youre living in the moment, you’re never living in the moment. Everything you do will come back to you tomorrow, but you will meet it there today.”
In the heat of my passion to escape the warty fingers of my secular obligation I found not by reason but by inspiration the way forward. A path laid out, by light, not illuminated by light, but by the personified person of light. He by his wisdom and mystery in words put in my mind the way. I said to those who asked where am I going, that I go where I am invited.
Its been too long to come to this knowledge, how much I have suffered to learn, and to experience fully the pain of birth and death, in the same life, within. So there is hope, and this is my hope, that these words I write, the messages I capture, the stories I will share one day will make its way into the heart of this world, and captivate, fill, and lead them to the path layer.
Where do all paths begin and end?
All we do is take a step,
With wandering feet
And restless imagination.
The world won’t embrace me with open arms, I also doubt that even the church will give me audience, but I know that the seeds I carry are potent. The book Ive been holding for a time can be likened to a seed, having had waited for the season to sow, and now that the season is on the cusp of arrival, I am preparing myself for the work ahead of me.
My life is a pen, my experiences the ink. The world the page, and every day it turns. I write as I live, I write as I breathe, I write when I’m present.
People plant seeds, I plant gems. People plant world’s, I plant realms. I desire to inspire greatness. My blood poured out for my craft will bear witness to the glory that God fashioned me in. Let there be light, and there was light. God spoke that in me, He creates new life in me, He gives me words filled with realms. He gives me words filled with Hope.
Stand against the false introduction of our reality
Thats is sly fully Promoted by our earthly eyes bearing Witness to a
Strong hold of ungodly habits
On the Foundation
Our First breath breathes in
Saturated by the conscious habits
Smoking for mind love Ecstasy
Excessive drinking to find ones true thoughts beyond the haze of reality
Drugs, the false god of pain-relief
To replace the face of many partners as we attempt to Bury loneliness
But commit adultery.
These are razor blades to the soul
Held in the hands of Sin that carves into our members a memory of pain
Again and again
But burys them under healing wounds
Garb your mind with the truth
Love believes the best:
Not to fulfill the lust of wants but the hope in truth
Clothe yourself and your enemies with righteous Thoughts.
Thoughts that spur the spark of action
Regardless of your bitter emotion.
Christ bore the wrath of God
We so rightly deserve every inch of that cross
But he too
Ate wholly our portion.
Garb your mind with the truth
God holds your life like he holds your breath,
His loving kindness
Cups the whole world and its memories of pain
In his nail pierced hands.
Jesus sowed righteous
to elevate us back to the father
For we were garments of filthy rages
He sowed mercy and forgiveness
For those who have failed to stand for godliness
For those who have failed to stand for justice
For those who have failed to walk the straight and narrow path:
I am the way the truth the life…
For He has not failed to stand before the Father with our sin
In exchange for our soul.
Sometimes we feel like this:
A whirlpool is stirring up all the emptiness inside
As find ourselves caught in its gravity blind, struggling to Escape.
Then a boney finger dips into our soul and
Sucks it dry
Vain glory smile
Feels so good…
Grab hold, grab hold, grab hold of thee…
And in its hands our arteries clenched
Lifting us off our feet.
When it is done, we retreat into the depths of our soul
But no light can be found
So to the shadows we crawl.
Our Soul morns
Our Voice shakes…
When will I change, when will I learn.
But before our words could penetrate the world
Our beings meet significance…
Shattering our boastful pain…
Where is despair when his
Promises of life and abundance is here
Like a dragon fly gliding in the sky
Whisping through the air
Guided by some whimsical current
Love, it is love.
Corruption riddled in your lungs
Some choose to exhale corrosive breath,
Wouldn’t you rather want to spit beauty.
Free will, will ring,
Some use it to pervert and sting,
Yet his mercy will sing: Forgiveness forgiveness,
A sound wave infinite and limitless
His integrity is deathless,
To redeem, restore and replenish.
Brothers and Sisters
The life of a Christian soldier is not limitless reclining on flowery beds of ease,
You having obtained the strength must ceaselessly exercise it in the practice of your wills.
For the unstoppable force of seconds
Dehydrated by the easily accessible devices of
Instant carnal gratification
Fools us to dis-empower our stewardship over time,
As life drains through our fingers.
We are captivated by the twilight inside the fifty shades of…
The unknown in side the fifty shades of…
The comfort in Chaos…Stuttering
As our armored Boat hits the sand.
We hear slithering sluggishly the sound of sin
Crawling underneath our fifty shades of carnality.
Sinless, we would have not had repeated Cain slaying able on Normandy.
Powerlessly we enlist as we storm the beaches of our broken father’s and mother’s normality.
Put on the full armor of God
Draw the sword of the spirit from our heart.
Let our words be as swift as the Gospel of peace
Upon our feet,
Let each step be firm like the belt of truth ’round our waist.
For what can fiery fear do to our faith doused by living water?
Lord we have tasted you and you are sweet,
and the 50 shades of fear, extinguished, by your perfect love.
The shield of faith our front guard,
Lord you our rear guard.
With righteousness before me and living love behind me,
Who can over come me?
I was in a dark place when I wrote this:
A few days ago I was asking God some hard questions, one of which kept me pounding on his door for a solid hour. “What am I ALLOWED to do with my life?…What am I ALLOWED to do with my life?” I asked again and again until finally he took me to a scripture verse above the Gugyels backdoor, “Seek first the Kingdom.” I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant but I understood that searching for the meaning of my life or even finding permission in whatever resource available to me wouldn’t help me find what I’m allowed to do with my life. God told me to seek first the kingdom. I prayed and God told me… he shifted my perception on that scripture verse. Before I viewed it with a half aloof half near me, understanding. God asked me “when you’re hungry, what do you seek?” I answered, “food,” ” and when you’re thirsty?”, I answered, “water,” The kingdom isn’t something that I wait for to come to me, it is something that is readily available to me as soon as I seek it first. Rather than going to the world for answers, I’ll go to the King.
Seeking first the Kingdom is seeking first the King. I’m thirsty, yet water can temporarily quench my life long thirst. What about my intellectual thirst? The waters of this worlds wisdom will temporarily satisfy but frustrate my desires in the long-term. But the question isn’t what satisfies me forever, because I already know the answer to that question – Jesus. The right question is what am I really searching for? I believe I discovered what that is, and it isn’t what I imagined it would be. My train of thought led me to the conclusion that nothing in this world will ever satisfy my thirst and hunger for my purpose, for intellectual fullness, fruitful work, and happiness. Therefore, what can? That which I’ve been chasing, seeking, hungering and thirsting for led me to ask God that question… what am I allowed to do with my life? which led me to seek the Kingdom, which ultimately led me to see that what I desire in this world has yet to exist. Have I tasted everything this age can manufacture? Not even close but I know that no matter how much money I have I will never be satisfied. Because all the money in the world will never buy me past temporary. My dollar can only purchase the now, and the item refunded will only bring back a dollar that still can only purchase a moment. The dollar I save for the future, is still bound by that moment that has yet to arrive. Therefore my pursuit for more money will not and cannot pull that which I desire closer. So I will go to the King who was and is and is to come. The King who is the same yesterday, today, and forever. I will go to the King who in the Old Testament can still do today. Whose hands stretches through the strands of time like strands of hair. There is nothing new under the sun, one might argue, but the voice propelling those words speaks from a before-god perspective. Since my now is with-God, therefore with God there is always something new under His Son. Therefore that which I desire has yet to exist, and because I desire it, and God gives me His desires, it will manifest in my life-time, and in time I will be fully full.
What am I allowed to do with my life?
Seek first the Kingdom
Seek the King
Love my Son
There are people with more success and obvious material and spiritual blessings, how do I measure God’s hand on my life?
Today (four months ago) is one of many days that I have lived without escape. Or so it seems. Escape, from what? is the the question that people dear to me and I dear to them, have been trying to figure out. But I think the question isn’t what am I trying to escape, rather I think the question is what am I trying to discover? Games have been a great way for me to delve into a reality that is unlike the reality around me and mine its lore in thousands of real-time hours, however, there isn’t sustenance there, at the end of the day all I mine are simply cache memories that can never be manifested into reality. Man cannot live on their own wisdom alone. Man cannot live on man alone. Man cannot live on digital life…at all. This life isn’t fulfilled via fulfilling Maslow’s hierarchy, its receiving scriptures reality. And if I can be so human to say, it is the basic principles that man lives within that is observed by Jesus who lived them out perfectly. But the basic principle I’m to understand and live within harmoniously are not the principles without but within… If I’m given reign over all that is on the earth, I’m given reign over all within myself.
Today is one of many days that are unlike most, for the first few days of my transgression I was expected to submit to expectations or else face the consequences. I’m not escaping, I’m not attempting to bury, rather I’m searching to understand, hoping to find, cuirous to see, earnest to discover from the ruins of myself a new self. But can anything new be found by looking in the past? I think what is new is already, but is buried beneath the ruins of so-called “escape”. A digital reality, a mountain of stone over stone, a tomb for my inner man. If the law of attraction is real, then has my inner man been crying out for freedom? Has his consciousness attracted these consequences that will lead to his freedom? And at the moment of his freedom say, “you have found me?” And will I say, “what do you mean?” And he will respond “your zeal like Paul was there, but misdirected” And I will respond, “my zeal?” And he will say, “your zeal for life, for love, for adventure, your zeal for creativity, for energy, for community, your zeal for strength, for wisdom, for knowledge…”
My inner man, has been for sometime seized by my un-self-control to outside forces, and more so, the forces, the darkness, that I let in, which I have not seized, which now seize my inner man.
Who has mined at their hearts for thousands of real-time hours, reaching down to the one reaching up, that they too would for thousands of hours mine at the mountain encasing my heart? All the sessions with people who gave their time to mine at the ruins burying my inner man with the Word of life, are mining not with worn out pickaxes but with the strength of their renewed inner man. My actions speak louder then words, this builds trust, but what they see is not the wrong I commit, or the substance I abuse, but the intrinsic value of my shackled man. They see not the hurt I do but the tears I shed through eyes they can’t see. They with spiritual tunics wipe away real tears. As a preacher once said “connected to every sin is an unmeet need.”
The beautiful thing about music is that it is felt by the heart, it eases the mind, and lifts up the spirit. That is why I believe that these principles I’m to live harmoniously with have no sway within because my heart is encased within a mountain. The principles I’m to live harmoniously with can be likened to music notes on a music sheet. I can be likened to an instrument. My will the breath I breathe into the trumpet, the fingers I strum the guitar with, the hands that hold the sticks to beat against the drums. However, I am the unskilful musician but, I AM the architect of light, the one who desires to be the conductor of my I am, jealous, yet patient, calling me to be still and know that he is both jealous and patient. He slowly mines, slowly stirs, slowly frees, gently directs, gently motivates, gently removes, and gently plays the instrument that I am.
An old thought, four months old to be exact. A fossil in the land before rebuke.
I was abused, deceived, and abandoned by someone I thought I knew, though this is not a cry for help for I have received the help I needed and have come to a new chapter in my life, this is a short account of what has happened, and I hope that those of you who resonate with this find hope, encouragement, and strength to face your own battles.
He was a powerful foe, an adversary like no other, and he nearly ended all that was good in my life. He spoke eloquently of dreams, and character, and life, but after two years he has nothing to show for it. His weapon of choice was his ill will, though unconscious at times of his actions, they were potent, and his eye fixed like a hungry dog muting out reason, he attacked. Impulsive, addicted, scrambling for his next fix, attached to no substance ready to let go of all his commitments to obtain his drug of choice. He was ready to do anything, dangerous, out of character, outside the frame of his mind, thus that was the last straw for those around him. Finally in one stroke he found himself looking in the face of reality, it was all too painful, and it was all too messy. He got very angry, but he was alone, and no one was there to hear his BOUTS OF RAGE, DENIAL, and JUSTIFICATION, for he converted all his resources as tinder to burn every bridge behind him.
All I could do was watch. The damage was done. My voice, silent. The help around me was excellent but I needed more than that. I have no physical injuries, only the actions ingrained in their (family, mentors, friend’s) minds were enough to mark me.
He had set the Standard for failure and he was willing to do anything to obtain it. What a fool, what a mindless animal, I wish I could have stopped him before the damage was done. He can hardly write now, he has lost his passion and his way in the realm of words. But even more so, he marked his head as a target, not to be sought after, but to be despised. He has killed his character, and by doing so he has killed me. For the greatest enemy I’ve ever faced was myself. And I am deeply burdened by the weight of the consequences of my actions. However, in the midst of the dead marshes there is hope. I was not alone in the fight but I was alone in my world. I was not alone in my struggle but I was in my problem. All that could be done was like helpless onlookers watching the pieces of me fall apart. But there was more than I could see at the moment happening. Like First Responders during a crisis, many pieces were moving by different modes and vehicles to get to the center of catastrophe. Their sacrifice was great, their heart I have hurt, yet moved to get to me before I lost my self.
Today I dislike the word I. Because I, was my drug of choice. Now I’m moving from I to eye, so I can see from other people’s point of view. So I can hear what makes other people’s heart beat.
Where do we go from here? Changing the culture from me to we. We cannot swing from I to I or me to me, but from me to you, and us to them. The most dangerous drug of choice is the selfish mindset of me, myself, and I. Let’s try living by the motto Eye TO Eye than an Eye for an Eye.
Perhaps this may or may not resonate with you, but ask yourself this question:
Am I curious about other people’s religion, interests, philosophies, and/or perspectives?
If you can hear their story, and share your own, we are moving one step closer to a more unified world.
If this Journal inspired you to think, or inspired you in anyway, please share it. Thank you.