Homeward

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On this side of the door lies opportunity and growth.
Billions of souls scurrying about, learning of loneliness, pride;
Experiencing isolation, jealousy, humility and joy,
Slowly realizing the immutable law of love.
Time expands in these shadows
All we once understood is clouded;
Held in the frailty of human living.
All slows down to a lesser pace,
Freeing us to make each connection anew,
Creating ownership of each delicate idea.
Beyond the doorway, in a small, quiet, unassuming way
Is embossed the word “Entrance".
It is inescapable.
Homeward bound, we will step under its arch again.
Will we do so with a mind full of regret
Or hearts full of love?
Maybe that is all we have to decide.

Awareness

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The watchful animal gripped in outward attention is focused upon his immediate place in the world, not on an abstract notion of it. Housed within eye and ear, suspended above breath, awareness floods into the scene: The animal knows that to be awake is to be alive.
Pure awareness is uncontained by the body, yet, wrapped in a point of being, is absorbed into a frame. So may the perception in man tilt and turn, discover and ponder the quantity of light his wisdom allows.
Within the house of opposites, the palette of ideas paint parallels, and the scene is reinvented along with the long, stumbled steps of instinct and intuition that form the stairway of consciousness.
A Soul may shine the lamp of awareness upon any surface of mind—outward or inward—and there become aware of its own reflection, placed upon an arc of discovery that it might approach completion and know that to be awake is to become alive.

A Work of Art

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In life, a Soul must choose a disguise: city dweller, farmer, soldier, artist, and so on. The costumes we wear have been lived and exchanged over the course of millennia and are so ingrained that a fleeting identity is usually mistaken for the soul that personifies it. Indeed, thought has power and can create a sense of permanence where only flux exists, and yet this is the way we learn and thereby choose who we are and what we wish to become. Over time, each point of light may discover how to release itself from pain and enter into love, and then, leaving behind the weight of injustice and self-pity, venture into fresher fields and finer awareness.

This thing that we seek to master and mature in ourselves—the clay of conscience—is it not character? And what is the great possibility held in deciding the color and contour of that character? Is it not to develop and refine what we are through the disciplines of sincere living? How many of us recognize that by evolving the personality we begin to control the levels of ourselves, the energies of what we are, and therein is the reason for choosing carefully. Each life may choose to become one with the crowd, with the forest, with our memories, or even with kindness itself. At any time, you and I can withdraw and exist elsewhere, just as an actor might decide to enter or exit a scene.

Just think, when we do something as simple as opening a door for a stranger or offering a gentle word to a friend, we express within that politeness a kindness in body, emotion and thought that lifts the elements of both Souls. By developing our character, we align ourselves with the idea we have adopted as truth, evolving it until we open to the greater Truth. Perhaps then, having come to the end of all philosophy, we will stop measuring life, and in that moment, finally understand.

Let us then grasp the longer view, that we are the eternal artists of ourselves, displaying in the mirror of the world what wisdom we have gathered through the tone and beauty of our actions. Truly, the greatest work of art in this world is that of an unfolding human character: a sculpture of intent and imagination held in an ever-increasing love. This great work of art is perfected in the kiln of worldly experience, in the heartache and joy of life’s expression. This being so, surely all life will eventually choose to live as an expression of what is constant, of what rings true, and use its wisdom as a key to the door of perennial love. Perhaps that is why the masters explain that the password to eternal life is spoken with tenderness.

Advice From A Tree

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Live your life grounded in the Earth, but always stretching toward the light. When all is calm, rest quietly and learn: the soil will give you strength, the breeze will bring you language, the Sun will send you flowers.

When a storm is nigh, bend with the wind as best you can. If calamity should strike, you will grow again, however impossible it may seem. The great life has given you that power to do so.

Give shelter and food to those in need, taking care to offer a gentle word. Yet know that sure enough, they will fly away. Each has its own riddle to solve.

As to a tree in a richer clime, well, it is there and I am here. I will make the best of things for now. I will tend to this garden with all of my capacity. And when you create a thing of beauty, do not cling and spoil the fruit of your heart. Give freely to the world. Not every seed will sprout but when one does, how the birds do sing!

Climb

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Before I came to this muddy Earth, in joy and immensity
I thought myself satisfied.
But I was undone by the thrill of a new vision,
Of a being so bright, so complete in its capacity
So full in its majestic, ardent love, that my idea was set afire;
My heart leapt with pure desire and I became desperate to achieve.
In my open eyed wonder an angel beheld my thirst
And taking my hand in hers, she softly asked,
"Are you ready to suffer the void of loneliness
That you may know the joy of absorption,
To untie the knot of pride, that you may know the freedom of humility?
Are you willing to transform the blunt blade
Of anger into the intense love you now witness?
Are you ready to rework the threads of yourself
Into the very essence of light’s sacred purity?"
I  stared long and deep into her design and finally said,
“Yes, I am.”
Then she pledged to fold her heart into my will
So that I might reweave the tapestry of my Soul.
“Come then,” she said, “Let us go. Listen for me;
I will be with you for all of your days.
Not even for a moment will I leave your side."
Then she delivered me into this human life.
Just as you have been delivered into yours.
Often about my shoulder I feel the flutter of gentle thought
Urging me towards the edge of truth.
Even now I hear her whisper,
“Climb, climb, climb!”

A Vision of Night

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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.

Our Precious Work

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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

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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.