My Preoccupied Mind

Every so often I hear this voice, it is filled with desolation, this voice it tempts me, lures me, it is the desire to fall, of which, I am terrified, so I must of course, defend myself, and I do.

My mind has been an over-stimulated mess since the holidays. There are many contributing factors, I started a new job and it has affected my daily routine a lot more than I supposed it would. I am just now starting to get all of my ducks back into their respective rows and consistency is becoming a reality again. My son, who will be turning four in a few weeks, swallows up any extra energy I may find from time to time to sit down and write. I, of course, mustn’t disregard his feelings or growth for my own; his routine is even more out of whack than mine, of that I am sure.

I am starting to realize that every year this decompression stage that follows the holidays has a detrimental effect on my self-organization process. I find myself moving from one means to the next without much of a groove. It is a vicious cycle and one that I intend to interrupt in the years beyond.

All excuses aside, allow me to explain why I haven’t felt the sense of direction I often need to know, insofar as to which way my attention is headed. It is in the explanation of knowledge that knowingly twists my tongue around the knots in my stomach until my hands have tied themselves together. The use of “hands” here is meant to be a metaphor for my creative prowess, or lack thereof. It is intellect that moonlights as a dagger—one that discerns and rifts its way into the enigma of my thoughts. It is knowledge that divvies man into two separate beings. One being for the better, the other being for the worse, either way is not at all in the essentialness of a bad thing.

It is my instinct that pushes me to the edge, and as scared as I am, I must make my way to it. I must peer over the edge and overcome my mishandled fear. It is the only way that I will ever find balance. If my writing is the way to this or not, I do not know, but I am not going to sit around with idleness waiting to find out.

If I could borrow a few moments from your day to allow me the chance to litter your mind with my mental waste, I would forever be indebted to you and will always be around to lend a helping hand with whatever cerebral chores you see fit..

So if you would like, feel free to join me on this penned and splendid adventure. It is with diligence that I must advance caution towards you, the reader, before going any further—the woods are thick in this lush and uncharted wilderness of words that separates the head from the heart. It is a journey that stretches a meager ten inches in distance, but it will take a lifetime or two to navigate. So if you wouldn’t mind, please allow me the time to get a “head” start?

Almost a year ago, I published a blog post that pertained to the “Mechanics Of Change.” I recycled a quote from the pre-Socratic Greek philosopher, Heraclitus, it was he who said, “and no man shall ever step in the same river twice.” In the sense of nostalgia these words alone were the inspiration for that post and while I would rather not dive into the schematics of the past, those words do ring with more truth and value to me today than they did a year ago, not only because I understand them more today, but because I have watched the same river change its course without heed or warning. I have seen its flow go from a patient trickle, to a raging flood in mere moments. More important than any of those, I have seen the serenity underneath its surface become agitated by an outlying disturbance, only to settle back in to the same serenity that was once so still.   It is the wisdom I have gained since that post, that I understand that I am the river. You are the river, we are the entire river and whomever we were yesterday, or last year, we have changed, whether it be with heaviness or lightness, it is in its simplest and most ambiguous form, change.

It is in the reconciliation of change that reveals the moral perversity in a society that breathes essentially on the nonexistence of return, for today everything is absolved in advance and therefore everything is cynically acceptable.

This is where my thoughts tend to go awry. I do not know what to make of the outlying or inlying change that surrounds my family and I these days. Whether you believe it or not, our democracy is being threatened by a malignant tumor that festers in greed and has an endless appetite for the comfort of the bourgeois and would rather feast on the destruction of liberty than make whatever it is great again.

I try and not allow the things I cannot control wrap their fingers around my being but I sometimes cannot help it, call it an empathetic flaw if you’d like, I call it absolute love for all that surrounds me. I spend more time worrying about the future of my child than I do myself these days and I know it is not healthy for the mind but it makes my heart thump with more purpose than ever before, so on we go.

It is when I start to think about the things that are heavy and those considered with lightness that I stumble upon a vacuum of thought. Could that which is heavy be deplorable and the lightness be glorious? Beneath the sunset of dissolution everything is illuminated by the aura of synergy.


The heaviest of burdens can crush us, we sink far below it, it pins us to the ground, and we fall. But in the sense of love and all that is poetic, the woman longs to be weighed down by man’s body. Therefore the heaviest of burdens is portrayed with an image of one of life’s most intense fulfillments. The heavier the burden the closer we come to the earth, the more real and full of truth everything becomes in the light of synchronicity.

On the other side of converse, in the absence of burden, a man becomes lighter than the air he breathes; he soars like a winged creature towards the heights of heaven. He takes leave of the earth and his movements as free as they are insignificant.

What then shall we choose? Shall we choose to be burdened by weight or to float through life with nothing of significance whatsoever?

For today I am burdened by the lack of love in the world and therefore choose to be weighted down by the purpose of what little inspiration my words may choose to inspire.

Love embraces a hint of an empirical tendency within it. Love after all is said and done, is like an empire, when the idea it was founded on deteriorates, it too, will fade away. Like all of us, love is also a river, one that we should all be satisfied to stand upon its banks and look with longing and hardness upon its waters, for it is soothing and can heal even the most tortured soul.  It is a shame that the simple things like love and water have become more and more scarce throughout my life.  Love, nor water is either a privilege or a right, it just is.

Love is, as it were, is the universal vital energy capable of converting the passion of evil into a creative force of goodness. Hmmm. Somehow I gather that this thirst for knowledge is love directed in a certain way, and the same should be said of philosophy, which means love of truth.

Love can only transform evil passions into creative ones if it is regarded as a value in itself and not as a means of salvation. Love in the sense of good works is useful for the salvation of the soul—it can give rise to a creative attitude of life and be a source of life-giving energy.   Love is not only a source of creativeness but is in itself creative. Hence love does not pass judgment but gives life, receives life, heightens the quality and the value of life’s contents.


I am approaching the edge, this is where the fear starts to set in, and of what it is I am frightened, I do not know. Sometimes I want to give up from fear of sounding batshit crazy, from fear of losing myself, from the apprehension of not being able to come back from the depths of my own mind—then my heart beats harder and the chill bumps that sprout upon my arms like seedlings on a Spring day—can only mean that something inside me begs to keep driving down this track in the direction I was meant to go.

Then I see it, the optical illusion that love has become in modern day society. This illusion has become its own entity, it breathes falsity, and with each exhalation it pollutes even our children’s minds. It is an illusory train that must be stopped and I aim to do just that, but first, I must engineer my thoughts into the equation of where they need to be.

I once believed love to be an optical illusion, this should allow me the needed experience to conduct a train of the same magnitude. I hop aboard and take over the responsibility of leading this train into the promise land.  I envision myself steering the train through these mountains of purpose carrying enough dynamite behind me to rewrite history with its own antiquity.   I rummage through these mountains annihilating my way through the masses of granite with the sole intention of the discovering new caverns of wisdom and maybe something in the schism of myself.

This train that I must conduct, I will call it knowledge, I must then divide this knowledge into a couple of different parts, those which are thought be in the nature of classic and romantic. It is in the term of comparison that classic knowledge is taught by reason, and should be considered as the engine. Romantic knowledge is little more abstract to the herd-minded eye, one must be aware that this knowledge taught by the mystic is not static but endless in its own creative nature and the purpose it serves, and one must be willing to embrace the change before one can fathom it.

Romantic comprehension isn’t any physical part of the train; it is the mechanics of the classic engine that keep the train moving somewhere towards change. Romantic knowledge is the vigor that pushes or sees the train along the track of life and then onward to the edge of experience. It’s when we begin to understand this that we no longer divide the train into parts since all this really does is impede the train’s momentum and creativity becomes stuck in a particular moment.

Knowledge in the sense of wholeness is not static and cannot be stopped and divided. The train of knowledge always has somewhere to go down life’s track. The train and its cars of classical thought do not go anywhere without the direction in which it is pointed by all that is romantic. It’s not that this train is lacking romantic qualities but most people just choose to ignore the fact that there are two ways to look at all things, including life, and those ways belong to two wholly different dimensions of existence. The quality of romantics is the hidden force behind the train that takes us all down the same track with the same final destination.

The romantic reality of your dream, that is the sharpest edge of experience—it is the momentum behind the train of knowledge and it keeps the whole train on the track. Classic reality is nothing more than the collective memories of where experience has taken us before.

It is upon this edge that there are no subjects, no objects; it’s only the dream and the spirit that guide us. If we have no way of evaluating or acknowledging the quality of life—then the train has no way of knowing where to go, which is fine sometimes. The voice of reason is not pure reason if you do not know where you are going it is considered reiterated confusion. The edge of experience is where all of the action is. This edge it contains all of the infinite possibilities of the future, as well as containing all the history of the past. The edge of experience is where the value of existence rests waiting to be rescued from the clutches of torpid thought and brought back to the presence in which we all belong.

As I come to the reality of myself, I am the only thing holding me back; I am the one that allows my daily demeanor to be interrupted by the things I cannot control. I am the goodness in me; I am the darkness in me. I can also control my balance with enough gumption to push the vertigo away from me, and into it’s own dizzy spin, but every now and again will allow vertigo the chance at manifesting itself. Call it a test of strength, if you will.  It is my choice to choose what I do. I will always rise from it’s fall and I know that it is by the grace of God that I am living and it is by the grace of God that I will die, but I cannot speak without skeptics about love and the grace of God. Unless I were discuss the fact that my heart is clapping with a thunderous beat as we speak, so maybe he hasn’t given up on me just yet. But if the gospel in which you preach confines its attention to love with commands and laws then you fail to grasp the meaning of parables and the call to freedom—for you have sought only what is revealed and not what is hidden. Freedom should not be repressed but enlightened with love. Look for what it is that is hidden within you and you will find yourself.

With that being said I must go, a child reckons my attention from his afternoon slumber.

I am not sure how far we made it on the journey, in the reality of time, about twenty minutes has passed and we haven’t even touched the surface.   Until the next time.

A time must come in the life of a man when he will take upon himself the burden of freedom, for he will come spiritually of age. It is in this freedom, that life may appear harder, more tragic, and full of responsibility, such is the austerity of freedom and the reverence it demands.

Good Night.


In The Essence Of Synergy

The head and the heart are bound to collide—when they do—the dynamics of wisdom and knowledge will arrange themselves as a single fundamental being. The strength from this force alone will create waves in an ocean of synergy. Synergy is when the totality of the effect is greater than the sum of the individual effects. Synergy is the unseen dynamic that nourishes the energy of the aura with positive reinforcement. And the ambient light of life flickers on. Again.

Synergy allows us the ability to distinguish between the genuine ghost of goodness with the empirical envy of evil. It is hard for the fallen man to see synergy for what it’s worth. Synergy is simplistic in nature but complicated in thought. The essence of synergy is to see that salvation is a two-way street—when the divinity of grace and free will—come to a head on said street, they will stop, shake each other’s hand and walk together towards that everlasting Promised Land.

I like to feel synergy with what it is. It is a cycle of positivity, and is in no way a vicious cycle, the latter being rigged with the interests of singular gain. Synergy is the emergence of a supportive system that gives for the greater good of the element’s social atmosphere. It allows for positive growth to occur in a complete and organic sense. It is a collective effort by a system to give the element the energy it needs to provide the well-being it must nurture. The element will then apply a new energy to the system; this energy is one that endorses a regeneration of goodness.

Synergy will most often deploy its hidden potential in our daily routines because the wholeness of its parts can only benefit from the presentation of a new system. It is synergy that can only produce the phenomenon mentioned in the prior sentence. It is the phenomenon of synergy that introduces us to the benefactor of constructive Karma, that being ourselves. Synergy is the structure of the sentence that built the Golden Rule. I will touch more on Karma and the Golden Rule later on down this path of words I call my own.

If it goes around, does it come back around? If I were playing Tetherball, then I would have an absolute answer, but we aren’t, so please allow me another couple hundred of words to figure it out.

I believe that if it does go around, it will indeed come back around at some point. It’s written in the stars, applied in mathematics, mapped out in geography, translated in religion, and it’s dissected in science. It is the circle of life. Within said circle though there is an empty space, or a void, and there always has been.

Every circle has its own void and some have a plethora of voids, i.e. the circle of politics. I did not partake in snuggling up next to political science, so I am not at liberty to discuss politics this evening. Feel free to use your imagination as to the direction of my stance on the circular motions of the political state. I am not one to waste my words on that sector any longer. Lest we forget that everything is subject to change. Back to the void.

These voids are the cause for those cycles that take a turn for the vicious. It is in these voids where joy is suffocated by suffering, while the spirit and the soul become unconcerned with the other’s wellness. It is unfortunate that this negative energy is in the realm of all that is natural and happens in the biological sense to all organisms. This therefore, can have derogatory effects on the element and negative feelings force themselves upon the system, only to weaken the element. The element is immune to almost everything that comes at it from an outlying threat, but it is very receptive to the inlaying infections of certain systems that irritate and manipulate the mass and the aura of the whole being.

Lucky for us, this void can be overcame and filled with the same air of progression that any healthy and flourishing system shares towards the provisions of the greater good for the element. All the while, allowing it the opportunity to thrive in its own existence once again.  Think of it in the holistic sense, if you would?  It is the nature of the element to heal from within and without nonnative agents and their so-called healing powers.

When we walk to the edge of existence, we begin to really feel that we are apart of something greater than we can ever fathom. We turn to look back at the world from this higher plane of being and see a fractured element that is broken into meaningless parts, waiting to be sold for scraps to the highest bidder. As heartbreaking as it is, all I can do is use it as motivation to make the world a better place. Pack it in, pack it out, we all have to share the responsibility of leaving the system better for those left to inhabit it. Am I correct?

I believe that I am not the only one that feels this same way. Which is exactly what we need. When the masses start contemplating with a collective effort what it will take to restructure the foundation of us, well that’s when the supernatural power of synchronicity starts to add into the equation. This synch is what pulls us back from the edge, more in tune with ourselves than ever before, and even more in tune with those whom we are lucky enough to share this existence with. It is the synchronicity that fills the void. Once that void is filled, the element cannot be penetrated by the vicious attacks of the cancerous system anymore.

It’s this division of the parts that is the simplest to put back together with the tool of compassion. As easy as that sounds, there is more to it. What that is, I have a good idea and it is in the essence of synergy that we must create something new that will allow the destabilized element to sparkle in the synch of a certain Kingdom’s sunshine once again.

The synergy in the air, when I step outside, although I can’t see it, I can feel it. There is something pulling me towards that eternal light, something is driving me to write these words out of thin air. When I say pulling, it should be mentioned that it is in no way an issue of control—which doesn’t exist in the jurisdiction of free will. It is so plain and simple yet so damned complicated.

I would like to say that it belongs to the beauty of balance, but I often question myself about my own balance or lack thereof. So is balance really it? Who knows? Life is full of paths, some lead to suffering and some lead to happiness but they are always littered with distraction. Even in those incremental moments of joy, we are often tense with what is going to happen next that will lead us to suffering, this is no way to live life. There is no such thing called life when lived in constant crisis.

I have learned that when you are not so focused on the future and you have learned how to detach yourself from the past, that’s when everything that you seek figures itself into the equation of you.

You are the equation of being, and the wholeness of your being is greater than the sum of all of your ridged and beautiful parts.

After all, 2 + 2 = 5.

Pardon my French, (Sorry Mom) I fucking love this song. It’s borderline compulsive how much I have listened to it in the past few days.  Godspeed everyone.

The Gift Of Love

The heaviest set things that fill our minds are the ones that are most often misunderstood and they are better left that way. It’s in the misunderstanding of confusion that suffocates the lightness of our being. The sooner we begin to understand the lack of weight that we carry around—our thoughts of things that hold no authority over us—the sooner we get around to the gist of life and what it is we are meant to do. It is wise to promise yourself that instead of chewing on the past until it becomes flavorless, one must spit it out and cherish the flavor that it once was. But we are all human and it is in our nature to break promises.  One of the things that have often left me confused is love, and even though the light of love is carried in my namesake, I am often left burdened by the weight it bears in my chest.

It has never been of use to disturb the balance between a promise and the lack of guarantee. This is often achieved in the being of noncommittal. It is the poise of weight and the composure of lightness that serve each other with the same ambiguity as that of the committee called wisdom and knowledge. These elements need their polarizing opposite to give stability to their existence.   Much like love is filthy with the residue of lust, certain things cannot exist without the contrast of their counterpart, if they did try and exist without the other, they would, over time lose their personality and be divided into the separate categories of myth and that, which is authentic. And we would be left here to debate over which one held more worth over the other or better yet, which was right and which was wrong. When constant debate begins to arise in every corner of our daily routine, that is when the line between fantasy and reality blurs past the point of sharpness and the focus of reality is lost in the wilderness of fantasy.

When one starts to struggle with the differentiating of fantasy and reality, they become oblivious to their own existence and focus on the endless pleasure of excessive fabrication. One should be more inclined to “let oneself go” and drift with the current of indifference and maintain an inner distance from the mad dance of accelerated  advances. All this mayhem in the sector of the libido boosting gadgets is nothing more than an exploding non-substantial production of facades, which have no concern with the kernels of our being. Our being is built upon the mystic spell of love and therefore love seems to concern itself with the foundation of being.

Love is something that exists in both fantasy and reality, which is why our heart and mind often bicker back and forth about what is real and what is pure fantasy. Love can drive us mad and love can set us free. Love is what we want and something we don’t always need. There is something tragic about love itself and not just in its conflict with the temporal transitions of our social environment. Love contains an eternal tragic element that is connected with death. It is only in the deepest depth of love when the obstacles of society are no longer in the way of true love. Tragedy arises when our bliss becomes aware of the conflict of values that constantly take place between the value of love and the value of freedom, or the value of divine perfection, or when one must defend the god-like image of man which is connected with love, though sometimes love can be a danger to it. This is when we begin to notice that enmity is disclosed in the depths of love. Too often people are afraid to open their hearts out of wrong instincts, false fears of society, false beliefs, and this is what prevents the possibility of true intercommunion. They instead look to themselves and this is when lust begins to thrive in the absence of love.  Man is often poisoned by atavistic terrors and liberating one’s self from them does prove to be a great moral task—it brings not only joy—but also new tragedy.

It is love that desires personality and therefore love wincingly desires division. In this division of love we begin to find out more about ourselves the further we travel down the highway of spirituality. We begin to contemplate the value of what we are worth and walk towards the light of death without worrying about our self-placed value as much as we worry about stabilizing the mystical force of love for those we hope to be fortunate enough to witness the longevity of the future and the existence of love.

Love cannot be just a means to salvation and redemption. Love is the creation of a new life. Love cannot be abstractly spiritual, blind to the concreteness of personality as a whole. Love must embrace both the spirit and the soul and be the foundation of these two principles. If the principle of spirit is abstract and isolates itself from the soul, the soul cannot give rise to love for a living being. Love means the descent of the spirit into the body and soul. The nature of the spirit must bring light and wholeness into the life of a soul. This is what gives meaning and connection to everything. Without the spiritual principle, the life of the soul shatters into disconnected and meaningless experiences and the personality of love disintegrates into nothingness.

Abstract, anemic and impersonal spiritual love, that takes no cognizance of the soul, is not love at all—it is cruel and fanatical—albeit inhumane. It is love for an idea and not for a living being. Those who believe in the love of an idea, say that is the love for God, which is higher than love for man. Wouldn’t this mean that God is conceived as an abstract idea in the name of which men are sacrificed? But God does not demand human sacrifice, He demands that love for Him is the same as love for man and mercy for all living creatures, but there is no mercy in massacre.

It is of the nature of humans to love naturally instead of spiritually. Natural human love is fragmentary, mixed with passion and desire that distort the true meaning of love. It often prevents us from seeing another’s personality as a whole and directing our feeling upon it. This natural love is often impotent because it is unenlightened and partial, spoiled by selfish ways and bound by the strivings that are contrary to the meaning of love. It is spoiled by jealousy, which positions love towards the realm of idolatry, where the love of an idea of love carries more clout than the spirit of love.   Spiritual love is not meant to squander natural love, but to transform, enlighten, and strengthen it with a spiritual force that applies wholeness and meaning to that of love.

Natural love leads to the adoration of a creature or that of an idea and both of these bear evil fruits. All men and women are blessed with the ability to love all of creation with a creative and enlightened love so as to realize righteousness in this world. The gift of love is given from the grace of God.

But is there such a thing as love of ideas, of values, of truth, of injustice, of beauty, of science, of art, and so forth? This is most difficult question wrapped in the gift of love. Love of ideas and values, of truth, of goodness and beauty, is merely the unconscious and imperfect expression of the love for God and the divine. One ought to love God more than man, and the love of God ought to give us all the strength to love man.

We must not love only the divine in man, only the truth, goodness and beauty in him, i.e. only the valuable content of his personality : we must love the human as well, be merciful to the actual living being, love him for nothing.  It is called compassion, something that modern day society has seemed to misplace on the road to redemption.  It is up to us to keep compassion for all of creation, wrapped with hope under the tree of spirit and joy.

-Be Love-


At the point
when my being
stopped to look
at who I was
something held me
back from where
I was to be
and there you had it
right where you wanted
this to be
tied to a tree
too impatient to see
what it felt like
being free.
But now’s the time
to take our chance
and learn the dance
of a different tune
One that moves
down the path
by circumstance.
Your beauty
it sits in stillness
with an echo
that bounces around
throughout my mind
where it shall stay
until the end of time.
For today,
and yesterday too
we all stand tall
and watch it all fall
back into a place
where it will always shine
in the void
of a forgotten time.
BeLove © 2017


Just Be

Be the love
that trumps hate
Be the good
that defeats evil
Be the light
that fills the darkness
Be the peace
that calms the chaos
Be the shield
to which hatred yields
Be the courage
that buries fear
Be the hero
that takes a stand
Be the wisdom
that guides their hand
Be the faith
that fills their heart
Be the flame
that lights the way
Be the catalyst
that sparks a change
Be the burden
that carries the dream
Be the poetry
that writes with grace
Be the story
That embraces glory
Be the promise
that gives them hope
Be the path
that guides them on
Be the bliss
Of this place called
BeLove © 2017

My Morning Jacket / Master Plan


I wander
through it all
trying hard not to fall
as I ponder
with a sunrise
walking high
high along a mountainside
if I’ll live
long enough
to write them all
all of these words
blooming from within
the poetic stillness of Zen
BeLove © 2017

Inertia Less

Forward momentum fell behind
The thirst to learn
From an appetite of light in every angle
Life can carry infinite virtue
Just grasp the bitter past
In the company of angels
Almost, at last
I found a catalyst
That lit the spark
Below the stillness
In the depths of somewhere dark
Before the brisk of dawn
A story that was long ago drawn
Then the wheels went idle
Soon the singe went spinal
I thought the score was final
But belief began to bustle
Holding a hint of hustle
When the silence of sound shivers
Wait for the words to whisper
A question that quickly quivers
BeLove © 2017