Gifts

There are things that I often repeat—and probably people that remember think I am mad, for others it is simply some statement that goes in one ear and out the other-
 

“When the student is ready, the teacher appears”. 

You will, if not—then it is not for you to read. But I am sure that your over-soul at time subconsciously will remind you, whisper to you in a dream perhaps, or when driving and something reminds you of moments past, maybe those haunting notes and words of “Unchained Melody” on the radio, to glance on these pages and read. At least my words are easy to read-your`s, well not too easy. I wonder at times if you yourself understand it. I am now in the same predicament at times. I understand very  little, I often makes no sense of myself, - I an enigma unto myself—but in the end all does fall into place, for order certainly emerges from chaos. Thus is the life of a writer. But—then we live in our minds-that is reality, and life is simply the illusion. 

Now—even in the mind of madness, there is some method of order, or the reason of a  "why"—often as we write we get off on a tangent—I sort of had a theme in mind and now it has totally escaped me. Maybe simply the angel of morning- Lauds is reminding me of just creation; thoughts of you as I was praying. Thoughts fleeting in and out of my mind images of  you doing whatever needs doing.   Prayers both, same really; an offering, a sacrifice of love. Remember—once you said; “ we are and have been forever connected, forever one"—very perceptive and observant of you at a spiritual level.  Yes-once found we are never to be lost again to the other. Do you still feel the same way? Or do things actually change, can they change? I also remember the phrase;" undivided loyalty". Something to ponder.

I am trying to search my mind as to the purpose of this morning`s entry—yet it was so very important and profound what I needed to say.  Yes-maybe it is not coffee that I am drinking, but from the water`s of Lethe—the river of forgetfulness; she dosn`t want me to remember this morning.  No—it is not that lily of remembrance that is being pressed within the pages of, “The Pagan Christ”—nor an other apology, neither is that, that my mind is wandering all over the far end of the galaxy. It was something more generic pertaining to life in general.

 You are right—often we write and have no idea that we are writing to our self only, or a huge audience—however the importance is that the thoughts are put out there, eventually someone will catch it, perhaps eons from now—for nothing ever created becomes nothing. 

Thus, it is with all be that simply abstractions or the actual physical. Remains forever. Like when one throws a pebble into the water and it makes a ripple— you know that though we only see parts of it it actually goes on forever--expanding into larger and larger circles forever; till all eternity. Now isn`t that a most difficulty concept to imagine. The mind cannot wrap itself around it. It is so true. Thus it is with us—whatever, whomever we touch--continues eternally as the rings ever expanding and influencing all.

But, then all writers know this; if we deconstruct the soul of a writer, be that Hemingway, you or just me—we are simply more awake to the fact that our legacy of words becomes eternal. Though we all are these eternal sparks of light ; but perhaps, writers, are more egoistic doggedly wanting to make a mark on the world--thus the use language as more of an expression, or rather in more detail. Wanting, needing desperately to see the creation while one is still alive—whereas others do it anyway but with much less consciousness, ease and forethought.  But, all do it nonetheless.  Even in the context of the names of my blogs—says so much about not just me, but man;  dragons, souls, echoes, Eden, carpe diem, feny (light) fekti (darkness), Our Lady. Often they are  sub-conscious word associations of the mind.  There is always a method to the madness.

Often I think, also—it is all a form of self analysis—often we read it later  and don`t recognize the author, that is always a strange,  creepy feeling. Who is the author then? We are such complex , ephemeral creatures, so fragile- a soft wind touches us with a bit more force, and like those Monarch butterflies, in a minute we no longer exist. But do we? Maybe this was my original thought—that everything that we hold within is –in the embrace of light, is what ever exists. 

Meaning—love—which is the eternal light of God—Thus whatever is borne within that, of that, or given life from that—is forever. All else vanishes, that which was borne out of darkness. Does this make sense ?  So—only that which is light—will exist forever. That is why –only love IS. I don`t only mean “eros”-romantic love—but “agape” spiritual love of everything. That is why positive intention is so important, so is gratitude so are all the—for they are all children of “light”.  All else is death—annihilation . In other words—one is “heaven”, the other “hell”.

Now—In I Corinthians chapter twelve, Paul talks about nine gifts of the Holy Spirit. The interpretation of its meaning is mine, I am sure it can be interpreted quite differently, depends on the individual mind.

1) Word of Wisdom—we can all read sacred texts, ancient writings, learn from experiences of others in a positive way

 2) Word of Knowledge—all that is possible if in a positive venue, used for good, increasing self worth

3) Faith—believe in an Everlasting Creator, God/Eternal Consciousness/Source/or some higher Power  

4) Gifts of Healing—as in medicine, sending of healing energy, power of thoughts

5) Working of Miracles—this comes ,through prayer, meditation connecting to Source. We and all are connected—there is no separation  

6) Prophecy—through dreams, feelings, connection to over-soul

7) Discerning of Spirits –knowing, feeling what is good and what is not

8) Different kinds of Tongues –interpreting, expressing our thoughts, feelings through language of all that is good and powerful

9) Interpretation of  Tongues—understanding the goodness of creation through more languages, in images