A Vision of Night

A Vision Of Night.jpg

Seldom is true goodness ambiguous, so we might wonder why a Soul chooses to blind itself with emotion and desire, to delve into the darkness of distraction and to walk through life neglectful of the beauty that sustains it. Could it be that once it has realized the freedom of individuality, a young Soul, a child of Light such as yourself set free in the firmament, must first fulfill some irresistible urge to express itself aloud in the darkness and thereby know what it truly is and what power is its own?

Here on this Earth we see how everyone talks and argues their truth, for the world is a Soul’s mirror, where it may create and recreate itself in its own light as often as it wishes, to thereby entertain its vanity or test its understanding of love.

As the Soul advances, it receives many suggestions on how to behave and who to become, and as the embodied light walks forward through the darkness, it must test the contour of its heart with each footfall. It will stumble at first, and long after, but eventually it will right itself and find wisdom in its expression.

In the beginning and at the end of this night, it is the solitary Soul in the loneliness of his own mind who must decide what ideas he will express and what design his heart will demonstrate—not his neighbor, nor his hero, or his culture. Understanding this responsibility precedes any lasting freedom.

Within this night is our grand experiment, where we, you and I, run this way and that, up and down the avenues of the absurd, sleeping, crying, laughing and dreaming. But above the heaviness of night an idea, like the sunlit moon, looks patiently, placidly, even longingly upon us. It’s light contains the key to our own, a way back that is so simple and so pure, for high up within each Soul resides the perfect idea, the Word, perhaps, and we are here to find it and even emulate its flawless expression of love.

As the Soul treks through darkness with no memory of where it came from, and often having no idea where it is going, there remains that particular knowledge, stirring and agitating the young Soul to move forward and create itself anew. Herein rests the true vision of night.

The Leap

The+Leap.jpg

Imagine this: When in moments of Love when we are able to lift out of ourselves, think of how one day the body will fall away, just as the chrysalis or the seashell releases its hold on the life placed within it. We have become so used to the idea of our human self, so used to its body, appearance, language, and expectation that we have placed our entirety into it. But one day, we will know these things are not truly ours; that they must be returned to the sole sovereignty of Earth.

Could it be that all things in nature have an interior presence, returning to this life and that in order to animate a form and thereby learn of Love? Does not each of us know secretly within that deep Love and its awareness cannot die, but only adapt and turn along a spiral of longing?

What a relief it must be to breathe in the perfumed rays of light after the heaviness of Earth. There! What an extraordinary thought, that we, you and I, infinitesimal persons in the vastness of space, have a life beyond, one that is before and after this worldly place.

Let us take a leap of mind and know that we are but visitors here, like divers who put on a suit to walk upon the bed of the ocean, to rise to the surface when the work is complete and the lesson learned. It is not outside that we will discover from where we have come and where we are going, but from behind closed eyes and within an open heart.

Let us understand then that all we take with us when we leave this place is whatever depth of Love we have claimed as our own. Everything else passes away, and how real can something be if it does not last?

Our Precious Work

Our Precious Work.jpg

Let it be my precious work: to care for every thought, to let each step, each breath, each softly spoken word, become a deed of light; a feat of unadorned desire.

Let it be my sacred work: to strive as of a voice of light, a golden sweep of bright devotion, where every contour of love’s pure, sure capacity opens the treasure of truth's laboring arms.

Let it be my special work: to toil with songs of love, to thereby illuminate each passing point of life’s demand and soften all edges of pain, longing and loss.

According to my Soul’s ambition, let my grandest work be to place the mark of tenderness upon each endeavor of worth.

Help me steady myself amid these trials of matter and find the courage to express the purity I desire in a prayer of simple, honest days.

Help me place my heart in the heavens even as my hands toil and scrape amid the dust and dirt of Earth. Help me to define myself in service, in my work; nay, in Your work, as a joyful, constant conduit of Beauty’s aim.

I shall strive with You at my side: With Light upon my shoulder, I need no other guide. Accompany me as I discover love’s true contour in the devotions of thankfulness. Yes, let my yearning shine, moment by moment, step by step.

Let my loving serve as a gift to Love, that labor may reveal its pure, engulfing capacity. As a glint of light in the prism of simple delight, let it be our work.

A Doorway Awaits

A Doorway Awaits.jpg

Off in the distance, a doorway awaits. Built into the fabric of every soul, it is often indistinct under the dulled light of a busy mind, yet it offers itself as a gateway to a finer dimension, where a forest or an ocean may be leapt across just easily as a searching heart may absorb a thought of light.

All that is required to set the door ajar is a single, definite wish to explore. Indeed, there is no other key than a desire to leap. Its threshold marks the beginning of Infinity and the end of darkness, and more.

But a voice says, “It is only the imagination.” Yes, it begins that way, but we may, if we wish, explore a reality beyond it, a solid reality, a reality for which we have been preparing ourselves all this time; a reality that each of us nurtures in our precious days on Earth.

Belief is the currency of a creator, whereby what is hoped for is conjured in the fire of the will, in the temple of the imagination. In the room beyond the door exists this great treasure. Within it we may resist the pull of memory, of blame, of avoidance and self-pity and recreate ourselves in an image of pure delight, without the weight of Earth and all its troubles.

Once we have stepped across the threshold we may reinvent ourselves in any and all ways we desire, and prepare to lift into a reality that corresponds to that same desire.

Whatever a person believes he becomes. This is the first secret of the inner life, and the marvel of the Soul’s eternal arc. By imagining, a person may fashion himself anew and adjust the foundation of his entire being. The door that links these worlds awaits the single push of a focused heart whereupon we may step from this place to all places and thereby be free.