Happy Place

There is a place
that no one wants to go
for they fear
their true colors may show.
But it is between
a fib and a lie
that the soul
goes to cry.
Yet it’s there
by that place
where the spark
of truth
shall never die.
So let your fear
creep through the dark
while your light
it opens the gate
of what it is
you must create.
So as you
sit on the fence
between now and then
the ink from this pen
will dry written
again and again,
long after you decide
what you are to do
my old friend.
BeLove © 2018


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-

Piece Of Mine

I know a place
Where peace sleeps sound
Amongst the chaos
Is where we must stand still
Just to be found
Take a longer look
Around the corner
Away from the pain
We walk with strength
And I write at length
About a sun-kissed rain
Beneath a storm about to break
Listen as the leaves of life shake
Caressed by a wind meant to defend
Some hollow tree scarred in a love so free
Charred with a pride
Like we never tried
These feelings are mine
And they have never lied
They are meant for me
So let them be
While I search my soul
For your missing piece
All covered and fleeced
Where my mind is at peace
In due time, Love
You will be unleashed.
BeLove © 2017

Ween / Flutes of the Chi

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