Snow Flocked Crimson

Santa, Santa, flying high,
With your reindeer in the sky,
Bring me presents on my list,
Surprises too, if you get my gist.

With robes of red and beard of white,
With merry cheer traveling through the night.
Mirth and miracles fill your sack,
As you enter homes with it on your back.

To you dear Santa, I make my wish,
as you eat the cookies from my dish.
May the world receive what you inspire,
the fulfillment of their hearts’ desire.

To give and get is just good fun,
As you navigate your yearly run.
My thanks kind sir for making things bright.
Merry Christmas to you, and to all a goodnight!

Brownie the Christmas Elf

Poor Richard, always turning every color into gray.

But Richard, surely this cake will make you gay?
Nay, I must think of tooth decay!
But Richard, the sun shines bright today!
Ah, it shall burn my skin, until it flay!
But Richard, exciting news I have to say!
Oh no, what could it be, surely I will pay!

And so she came one night, when the moon shone bright,
just a little sprite, an elf known as Brownie.

Hello to you good sir! I’m but a tiny fairy, not so scary,
I’ve a core of cheer and my shell is sweet — it is nice to meet!
Richard bit the hook, that’s all it took.

Caught, but not willing to surrender.
He fought and fought, until his heart grew tender.
Brownie loved the challenge, sparkling in all her splendor.

She knew he’d falter, she never worried.
The decades past, she never hurried.
And upon his birthday she gave a gift,
A little boy whose spirits could lift.

Brownie, said Richard, I think you’ve won.
I surrender to you, I’m ready for fun.

Clean Slate

Here comes another new day. Alleluia – Enya.

While lying in bed, right before sleep, willingly surrender to existence. See sleep as a portal, a transition into a new life that begins every morning. There is no history, no past, not a thing before the moment you awaken.

Look around, explore, and discover the world anew everyday. Remembrances are incomplete and often falsified fantasies of a time that may or may not have happened — they can’t be trusted, forget everything.

And being that it’s a new world, you have no data, no facts with which to predict the future. You can no longer make pessimistic prophesies of what’s to come. All you have is right-now.

Tear up the pages of today, don’t take them into tomorrow. As the day begins, so does a pristine adventure.

Frequency Conduction

Why resign yourself to weakness? Is there not power flowing through you? Are you not literally the embodiment of electrical energy? Stop a moment in your acquiescence, and consider the minuscule feeling inside. A force that when focused on, flourishes. Know it as pure power, the potential energy that becomes. Use it against itself to induce weakness, and it will.

But allow creative frequencies to flow, and a world is born. A world comprised of wavelengths, bands of energy waiting to be conducted. You hold the antenna in your hand, orchestrating a composition of your own design. Lead and it follows. Become derelict in your duty: cacophony the consequence. Your world awaits its conductor.

Though you see yourself as pawn, a pawn reaching an end rank becomes whatever it wants. A piece initially constrained, yet full of potential. If you begin as slave, persevere to become master. The constraints you find yourself contained within, are of your own invention. Everything you see is the fantasy you’ve fabricated. You cannot not-create.

But you’ve created a dissonance unpleasant to your own ears. Know that emptiness is the stage upon which creation commences. Clear the mind to begin anew. Start with what you know, which is nothing. Silence springs forth successful seeds. Potential-energy unleashes upon the infinite. Parts then align in harmony forming the symphonic whole, dawning the sound of something you love.

Thinking Thoughts

Okay, I’ve been thinking about it a bit, plus I’ve been watchin’ some videos about finding-your-purpose and such. Who am I? Simply a guy that thinks, that’s it — and I don’t want to be anything but that. I will write those thoughts down or speak them aloud, but that’s it.

I understand that I’ll be tested and tempted to divert from this path — external and internal pressures will attempt to push me off. If I don’t budge I’ll be rewarded… eventually. And I’m okay with that. I like thinking. I LOVE thinking. It’s true that it currently provides me no income, no esteem or prestige — but I can do nothing else, I just want to think.

I understand that I’m still relatively young for a thinker, still working my way up in the world of thoughts. That’s fine, I get it — what kind of epic journey starts at the top, as there’s only one direction to go from there (Spoiler alert! It’s down). Maybe I’m an author, a blogger perhaps, a philosopher of sorts, or someday I’ll make videos in which I express my thoughts, who knows.

But what I do know, is that my journey entails thinking, and I’ll stubbornly dedicate many hours to my craft because that’s what I enjoy doing. And as is the style of today, here is my diss track:

Y’all just an amateur thinkin’ you’re thinkin’.
Got nothin on me, your thoughts just stinkin’.
Thinkin’ like Lincoln, I’m startin’ civil wars,
Your ideas so tiresome, folks droppin’ on floors.
While your sleepin’, dreamin’ you’re a winner,
I’m awake schemin’ ’bout, servin’ you for dinner.
What you don’t know, I’ve already forgotten,
What you got to offer, I know that it’s rotten’.
Just sit down son, listen to the teacher,
I’m center stage, while you’re in the bleacher.
Thoughts like a rocket, they’ll blast you into space,
Leavin’ you strugglin’, confusion on your face.
If I thought it worth it, I’d give you a lesson,
But I’ll just stop here, keepin’ you guessin’.

Shrill Shower

I was in the shower, my mind drifting as it does, this time to something horribly negative. An untrusting thought, one in which life recklessly removes something I love. One of those thoughts that paint life as a bully, just giving me something so that at one point it’ll be taken away, prompting life to laugh at my pain. A useless, stupid thought.

But then a loud high-pitched sound came out of nowhere, well in fact it wasn’t nowhere, it was from the floor of the tub, a drain-stopper had fallen and made an oddly disturbing clank. But because of it, I was now aware. The disturbance shocked me out of my thought. I awoke from the daymare.

I no longer wandered down the dour thought-path after that, I simply went on with my shower. Oftentimes I get trapped by a narrow focus. I see an ugly part and remain transfixed, just staring. It’s so ugly! How horrible! But this time, the external world shook me awake. Why concentrate on the worst of what I can contemplate — what a waste.

This is waking up — popping the bubble that keeps us within a shallow perspective — to step back and see the larger picture — to no longer taint the paint of the world with a bleak blackness. For me this takes effort, as my mind tends to get covered with smudges that distort my view. It takes regular cleaning to see past the surface.

Good versus Evil

Do you know what evil craves? Power. Infinite power. The power to manipulate existence and all within it — to bend men and element to its will.

Then what is good? Good relinquishes power. Despite having measureless might, good lets go — allowing everything to run its course.

If a creator is good, what would he do? He would divest himself of power — split into a billion shards scattered upon a canvas, each more powerless than the next. Individually these droplets of divinity would roll around as condensation covered glass. Yet in concert these flecks of light broadcast forth a radiant glow, illuminating the solitude of space.

Then what would the devil do? Attempt to consolidate power. Full of fear he would manipulate all within his reach, exerting influence in order to tame whatever seems unpredictable. Corralling drops into containers and creating darkness in which to hide from the light. But an artist he is not, so chaos is what ensues.

What should you do? Be good of course. Let the flecks spray where they may. Do your carefully arranged patterns ever equal those of nature’s natural beauty? Never. Your stinted machinations are not worth the effort. Instead, allow the artistry to flow through you, guiding all that you do. As a leaf delicately falls from the tree, as water winds its way down a river, as glowing rays beam forth from the sun, allow your interactions with the world to simply pour out.

Remove fear, remove the desire to manipulate, allow the forces within your sphere to progress as they please. A brush touches paint to canvas, an artist moves the brush, ability as well as inspiration drives the artist — all of these aspects come together to form the masterpiece. You can’t do it alone, but by appreciating this, you become a willing part of the process that does it.

Release your resistance. Let go your control. Be good.

Orchestrated Existence

What we truly seek as individuals, is a harmonious interaction with existence. That is what happiness is. So as a musician within the orchestra of society, we seek to practice and perfect ourselves while integrating our developed skill with the whole.

But if we are an orchestra, who is the conductor? Do we simply self-organize — attempting to harmonize with our nearest neighbors? Do we listen for a melody we like and then attempt to implement it? Do we hear a tune in our head and just play, hoping it aligns with others?

We can individually improve till we become virtuosos, but without a common score, we’d be a cacophony. Does something maintain a rhythm by which we all march? Do we simply improvise until the discomfort of discord directs us into a coordinated composition?

Like any musician, we are not only players but listeners, enjoying sounds that flow out from ourselves, mixing and merging with the vibrations of others. And when our confidence rises we add in our own variations, altering the piece through finesse. As we improve our ability to operate our instrument and incorporate into the orchestra, we hear it — the melodic music of mortal being.

Illuminated Reflections

To follow Jesus is to fight the darkness, the grim, and shine a beacon of light and cheer into the world.

He sacrificed himself to the darkness so we can convict ourselves and repent – for we too have wielded the awful power of pessimism.

A power that spilled his innocent blood upon a wooden cross – a sullen sight to see. An image meant not to sadden or enrage, but the very opposite.

For once we repent, the kingdom of heaven is at hand. We see the light ourselves, and we as mirrors reflect its resplendent glory.

Dreamlike Days

Every day is a brand new day.
Imagination paints in the details.
Focusing on a particular fills in its blanks.

Continuity comes from chosen themes.

Ignore vague remembrances,
develop a preferred theme,
focus on details that delight.

Make each day the one you want.
Inspiration suggests a course,
but customize the path to please the palate.