So you might seclude yourself. People have the knack of keeping an image of the first time they met you and you may even feel an obligation to that image. But you don’t. There’s something in you, it aches and it wants out. Maybe you don’t know, but sometime in your life, a seed had been planted in your soul and it wants to grow - a loss, a birth, traveling, a threat to health and well-being, generally some sort of blooming experience. So inside yourself, you want growth and you are grown now. You have the ability to choose your friends. Keep around those that lift you, those that water your spirit in each and every moment, and simply watch your life improve.
The voices of the distant and dead. Books make us heirs to the spiritual life of past ages - an unbidden longing of the soul, of raw life, grasping its way out through the minds of those willing to listen and experience.
So the mind is much like a vast laboratory and human literature its many experiments.
There will be people who will tell you you aren’t good enough, you aren’t beautiful or worth it, that your dreams are too steep to achieve. For whatever their cause, they will hold you to a certain standard and keep you down. But what honest reasons do you have that make you believe in what others think, especially of you.
You know, there’s something to learn from any persons subdued. The oppressed have power or else they would not be oppressed.
To most, this life isn’t much but a control struggle and the sad part is, they aren’t aware of it.
There are some days that bleed into the next. No matter how new, you find yourself living the strungout thoughts of yesterday.
I Am my choices. I can not not choose. That is still a choice.
You are through choice, delegated by word and action - or the lack thereof. Evil isn’t the enemy of good. There is indifference.
“Whatever purifies you is the right path. I will not try to define it.”
Your eyes hold the palette of the stars and etched in your fingerprints - an entire universe. There are freckles painted onto your body and dimples pressed upon your lower back. Its as if your figure were molded by a sculptor; imperfectly perfect, perfectly imperfect.
There is none like you.
You are artwork.
You are a masterpiece.
Don’t sacrifice your joy for the bigger picture. Too often the killer of inspiration is the question ‘why?’.
She’s very much like a blossom - thriving on the light.
I notice she opens in its rays and closes in its absence.
don’t weaken me
so it’s all the same
your memory is there for your liberation
tangle your fingers between mine
this hand is yours
i feel your hand,
and i can’t
tell the difference anymore
It hurts - compassion and this whole ordeal of “awakening and enlightenment”. Just like a rubber band, your character is stretched and in your very being you know there’s no way of going back. You see, compassion is an all encompassing thing, it overflows, and it will hurt. The world is harsh and a connection to it all could well be the problem. Being apart of everything, you can’t help but feel responsible and you won’t be able to turn away. You are bound to others and it’s all a sad occurrence, something that has been ongoing from the moment it all started. So you must learn to be able to shoulder the world or be crushed by it. You must find the courage to continue loving the world, yet gain the know how to empty yourself enough to sit with its demons. It’s all so tricky. Sometimes, you’ll laugh when you see how perfect it all came to be. And yes, it is perfect. Even the imperfection most gawk at you’ll notice is only perfectly itself. And you’ll laugh some more. The world is built upon a handful of paradoxes and the tough part is, you won’t be able to explain it to others who haven’t found it themselves.
You have to understand life didn’t start the day you were born. You were brought into a grand story and sometimes, it will hurt. It will hurt and it will kill you over and over. This path is annihilation, but take comfort. You have got to die just a few times before you can really be alive. You must be ready to be touched by everything in both heaven and hell. To give out light, you have to burn. So in the end, are you damned or divine?
Types of Intellect
Knowing (Head) - Knowledge and Reason
Understanding (Heart) - Experience; Felt or personal
Realizing (Soul) - Wisdom; the connection of the previous two
Knowing and understanding produces a realization. To realize is to be wise. Reason alone deals with externals and wisdom involves the inner heart found in understanding. It is not possible to reach a state of illumination through reason alone. One must become wise.
i confuse your heart
when it pulls me
in your direction
a seeker of silences am i, and what treasure have i found in silence that i may dispense with confidence.
silence is the language of god
all else is poor translation
the whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so sure of themselves, and wiser people always so full of doubts.
and here in lies my problem.
i feel the need to share what i’ve found in silence, but the divine can’t be defined. silence is too cunningly beautiful. to place a definition on it, to give it a label, will only limit what has always been infinite.
humanity can only stand rapture within nirvana and only proper wisdom can hint at ecstasy all the while knowing, all you can really do is be.