A hard place

When I was in my teens and younger, my kin used to give me the sense that I had egg running down my hair. They would — with no intention of inflicting pain, of course — smack my head with a closed fist, and then their fingers would slowly recede from the palm down the roots of my hair pressing gently, yet firmly enough, into my scalp to create this illusion.

It’s a memory that was running through my mind after I had seen the sky this morning. Through the windshield of my car, I, for a few seconds, managed to see the sky with this iridescent, orange and almost pinkish glow; it was simply radiating, and I could not look at it without being awe-stricken. It’s something that, albeit seen daily, never gets old.

The image that got me to write this morning was that which came to me as I witnessed this sight in the sky. It quite honestly looked like an unseen egg had been cracked in two, and the yolk and liquid simply oozed out, dripping and hardening into this thick substance almost like molasses. Like a painting that was drying, and all the pigments were put into place to make for this magnificent sight. And I saw myself, reflecting through the times before the egg cracked. It was quite a thick shell, indeed, for reasons which I am not at liberty to divulge, and it was heart-wrenching each time that I had found myself in such a melancholic rut. Essentially, one’s heartfelt beliefs are endogenous, so if one encounters things, good or bad one will grow accustom to it. I was not a bad person. I was simply being hard on myself; ergo, I was bad on the inside. This, however, did not change my place in social obligations. I was still a good person to others, but, on the inside, I could not have been more raucous — even if, at times, it was not so piercing; it was there like a reverberation that persisted the more I endured to harden my nerves. I pulled and pulled, struggling to break the string by simply pulling, thinking that I would manage, but string doesn’t break that way — or, if it did, it would take a whole lot of effort! Instead of planting the dagger within and releasing the figurative blood of my “enemy” (so pointless that it is, because I was only hurting myself), use it to cut the tension in this overly elongated cord.

That is what I did, and the relief of it all is simply marvelous. When I mentioned earlier that it had been a long time since someone had poured imaginary egg yolk down my hair, that is simply not true. For a long time now, the egg has been fully cracked. A vestige of egg shells exists, but the yolk is overflowing. I have felt it through the things I do, through these very words that I am expressing to you now, through that which my heart and I experience (good and bad) so as to come forth spiritually stronger. When anyone looks at the view as I did this morning, it should not simply be the view in the sense of looking at a canvas. Anyone can paint their talent through a flamboyant tone and choice words, but this is not the way. Not at all. It is that which is found within, making yourself within, being true within, bringing your talents in a way that is not on display as a social catalyst. You can still be a star on stage, knowing within that it is right, not merely falling into the arms of fans: hoping, praying that they will love you. Look at the sky, marvel the beauty of nature, of the creations found within this planet, and you will find that you are looking at a reflection of your inner self as well.


Happy Birthday, dear Mozart!

Yesterday, in 1756, the heavens brought us an infallible human being with an influential gift. Truly from the heavens he was blessed with a talent that Joseph Haydn himself could not deny! And for those of you who are connoisseurs of the classical music genre and history, this is a big deal.

“I tell you before God,” the great Hayden confessed, “and as an honest man, your son is the greatest composer known to me by person and repute, he has taste and what is more the greatest skill in composition.”

I urge you to take time from your day, and hereafter, to immerse yourself in his music and crafts. For those of you who haven’t delighted in the fineness of classical music, I urge you to do so, as this is music that quite literally speaks to hearts.

Speaking of hearts, God Bless you all and your respective, magical talents also, from baking and the study of law to the blessed moments given to family and to children (letters written, cards sent and received, words spoken, hearts melted, noble strength fashioned from challenging times).

My utmost respects to you, Dear Readers. 🙂

Two very different men

Man # 1

I know that winters can be quite a nuisance for those who are lucky enough to have it. 🙂 I have a job and drive a car; in fact, I had a bad experience one time driving in the snow. My car swerved left and right with no friction against the sleet. Somehow, I managed to lead my car to the side of the highway, oncoming traffic passing as I looked dazed through my windshield window.

It could have been seconds or minutes after when a man came to me and asked if I needed any help. I don’t remember having said anything, only that I exited my car and watched him as he turned my car around to face traffic (on the shoulder of the highway, it’s not easy to do when there are so many cars fleeting by). Really, this moment seemed just as fleeting as the passing cars. One moment he was there, like an angel with surety and care, and the next he was gone.

I don’t remember scene by scene what occurred, only the kindness that came from one man. For quite a long time, I’ve done the same for others (the spreading of kindness in many ways). It’s common knowledge that how one acts towards others, especially strangers, is a reflection of one’s inner strife: the less morose it is, the more space in which lovely energies may reside. My last post is a consequence of recent events: good things, in fact, they are. Then devilish things come about to try to make something good turn to bad by intertwining good and bad elements: essentially, it is making the good seem good and bringing confusion by making the bad seem good. My girlfriend helped me to realize this. It’s really a clever trick, and there were times when I really just found myself in such a state of melancholy, overly thinking of future days (knowing that life must be taken one day at a time), for Jesus said – and it is lovely how so many wondrous morals and lessons are found in the Bible – do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble. Essentially, it is written that one must seek God, for He knows that we seek food and shelter and clothing.

Man # 2:

I find it sad when I look at someone who is yelling mindlessly and cursing in a situation that is nowhere near as profound as the swerving of my car. In any moment or situation, no one should merit the audacity to be so rude. I made a left turn once to enter into the lane opposite from which I was leaving work. Those kind of left turns are intimidating because it’s a block of maybe 50 metres in distance with a traffic light on each end. So if one way is clear, another one surely is not, and one has to not only make it for good timing when both lights are red but also to rely on leniency and respect from other drivers. As I wait and wait, I find no cars coming in one lane, and the one further down into which I want to turn contains a bunch of vehicles waiting for the light to change. I find a gap as the cars wait, so I drive into the gap between two cars allowing for enough room for a truck to pass by behind me. The man in the car behind the gap had such a callous and frightening gaze towards me. He yelled and cursed (unable to hear any of his words, but I knew that he cursed).

I did not do anything of the sort as he was doing. The light was still red, so I clasped my two hands together as I would normally do when I pray, and I begged him to calm down. “Please, sir,” I said to him, “Please be calm,” I implored, and I kissed my hand as an offer of peace between us, because how else does one bring forth a sign of respect. I thought, at the time, of nothing better than to clasp my hands together and to widen my lips so that he could know I asked him to “Pleeeaase” stop.

His impatience was both unruly and unkind. He persisted to pass me, putting himself unnecessarily into the adjacent lane, when it was silly to do so as I would undoubtedly advance once the light changed – and I did. It was really just one of those people whom I knew was just going through something. It seems unjust and cruel to react in such a manner when things are just right as rain within.

Therefore, we must keep the faith good people. Through the elements of nature, albeit the cold and dastardly fog, we have our own natural desire and need to be good. Escape from the night of temptation and of desperation, of unkind ways, and raise the sun in your hearts to yourself and to others.

First thought in the eve…

Thoughts have muddled, and will continue to interject, my mind like lightning within a gentle cloud. No matter how much I withdraw from it, its inevitable force will come to find me. Sometimes, it may even be misleading: beginning firstly as a gentle spray of mist and then, with the eyes closed and the muscles relaxed, a pebble comes forth and
gouges the eye. Then what happens. The thoughts are taken aback. The eyes flitting about trying to decipher what just occurred.

This is what happens to me. I feel warm, gentle, refreshed, and then something more like a thorn claims my nerves. And this, what I am about to recount, is what I do when such a moment occurs. I’ve had this image for quite some time and I’m sure that it will continue to comfort me. Because I know that when the pebble strikes or the thorn injects itself inside me, what I see thereafter, if only for a moment, is false. I am succumbed to temptation, to desperation. Thoughts of my girlfriend draped in a knowing and convincing body, but it is not her. Thoughts that I have of her, things that are contrary to my heart and soul. I know which among them are my friends and whence the wicked foes came.

I neither fight nor run away. I conquer. And this is what I see. I’ve imagined myself spinning around in place. I would catch sight of her waiting for me, pleading with her inert eyes and body. And then following a few turns I would face the other way. Slowly start to move I would at first, for temptation is a force that tries and tries. In a moment, wings appear upon my back. They look like funnels of clouds that drift to my aid, and I imagine that wings form from them. When this happens, I am hastened by them as the wings motion themselves with a swift and necessary push. Then I go forward at an immeasurable speed, and ahead of me I see light. Warm, infallible, resplendent light. As I continue forward, she falls into my arms. “Ah, there you are,” I say to her gently. I hold her as we continue together from the same push.

In the distance, clouds come together. They appear unwelcoming with their dark nuance building and stark light contained within. My eyes peer left and right, and there is no way around them. It is inevitable, but the wings
of faith have pushed me this way. In my heart, I know that, some how, I’m going to make it. Some how. And I cannot stop. This is not the mind that drives me forward. I attain my knowledge and use wisdom to guide it rightly. I am hesitant, but I also learn that faith is strong. So I continue inevitably through. “Close your eyes!” are the last words I speak before we enter through the first of copious storm clouds. My shirt is torn, my eyes quiver, my heart beats madly, but he is not angry. Faith is stronger. Tears fall, but they are not bitter. Humans should embrace them
rather than hide from them. I am the first to feel embittered rain, but my heart weeps joy, for Faith is stronger.

I feel a warm, lighter nuance of black beneath my eyelids. The tawdry efforts of devilish ways are of poor taste and little influence upon souls who are awaken. I open my eyes and the light before me remains ever glistening. I look up to find a liquid flowing above us. Within hands reach, she encounters some of the dew with her fingers, and the gold allure falls to my face. My eyes flit and
smile and my lips follow, not having to taste that which nourrishes my soul.