Month: March 2013

345: Eyes of the Whole

| Aspergers Girls

I cannot teach any longer. I can only learn by sharing what I am learning. I am a student sharing her heart and nothing more. The vibration of teaching or preaching or telling is no longer me. I am only able to open myself up and pour out what is inside. I can write when I am called to write. I do not choose the topic, at least not at a conscious level. I do not plan what I write, the thoughts come to me, usually, in a giant wave of recognition, with flashes of insight. I usually do not know what I will be typing.

My intention cannot be my own or the healing energy is lost.

For instance, if I have the intention of wanting others to love me, to like my works, to congratulate me or to be inspired, what I write will be at a different energetic level than if I write without self-intention.

I have learned to remove outcome. I do not do this all the time, in all my waking hours, as I am human; yet, I have found a freeing place, within and without, where I am able to not focus on the outcome. I have found a remarkable way to free myself from fear, by not imagining and creating the future I wish.

If behind a thought I am wanting love for self and needing attention, and from this place of want I form my words, then the energy changes.

I am learning to speak as a child, with my intention clear and my voice and words not hiding what I am feeling inside. So often, when we communicate, an energy shift occurs between emotion, thought, and words spoken. I feel this. I feel when someone is speaking from a place of love or from a place of fear. There is no in between.

There is no combination or variants. Love is the only thing that cannot be divided and sliced and mixed into a grey area. Love is love, no matter how small or how large, love remains the same. Love radiates in all directions and heals. Love cannot be diminished or enlarged. Love just is.

Fear, being the bearer of opposites, is really not an opposite at all. Fear is much a façade that takes the forms of many opposites. He steps in and replaces the place where love would be, but he is not the opposite of love, for he doesn’t exist. He is a space filling a space, so to speak, and there are no barriers he cannot divide, except for love.

He tries to divide love time and time again; and thusly, he is much like hatred, anger, trickery, envy, and the darker lot; however he is none of these, because he is nothing. WE can un-layer the emotions of hatred and anger, and other, and find a cause. The cause is always the same. The cause is always a need for love.

Whether it is a need for money, recognition, fame, acknowledgment, union, clarity, or other, it is still a need for love. When there is love nothing else is needed.

Beyond the basic survival elements humans think they need, indeed imagine they need, is the all-life sustaining-force of love. It may sound silly, even odd to profess, but love is all We need.

Energy resonates and builds off of love. Truths are brought to life by love. Truth is willingly transformed by love. Eyes are opened by love. Children are birthed from love. Love is rebirth of rebirth, a transformation of one generation into the next.

What you see is truly what you get, in the arms of love.

In the arms of fear, you get nothing and no one.

You, as individual, are divided and made one, as all fear is in the state of unity divided, as fear is the divider. Once divided, and in what present day may call an ego-state, fear sets in. This fear then multiplies; because although fear is nothing, fear begets fear. Nothing begets nothing; just as love begets love.

WE have a choice to feed the world the end-product of nothing or the end-product of love. This is simple in argument and representation. Choose love.

When one harbors grief and dismay, the beneficial remedy is love. When one harbors disagreement and guilt, the beneficial remedy is love. All emotions are healed through love.

What would be called positive and neutral emotions are healed by love, too. For love does not heal in the sense of taking something that is broken and repairing. Love sees nothing as broken. Love sees everything as already whole. Love cannot help but see only whole. If love stepped in and viewed “broken,” then the intention becomes to ‘repair,’ and thusly, the element that love has set her attention on becomes “broken” in spirit.

The teacher does not look upon a student and think: “broken” I shall fix. The teacher looks upon the student and sees potential in the seed planted before him. The seed shall grow, and thusly shall we all in love’s waters.

There is no fear. In hearing the rhythm of the angels, of nature, of the birds overhead, there is a healing sound. This is because there is no fear. There is a trust born of innate trust. Not fed trust, or given trust, or told trust.

Trust cannot be earned and none can be lead to trust, as there are no leaders, as there are no subordinate ones.

There is no hierarchy in a state of no fear and only love. And there is no state of no fear, as fear does not exist.

Though the call to trust is necessary, but truly resonates only from within soul. There is no avenue, no road, no way, or secret passage.

Those who profess to know, know the least.

It is only the one, or more so the union of ones manifested by illusion of one, which voices disbelief and question in own self, denouncing self and the profiteering of self, that understands.

As money divided, and any truth attached to profiteering, is already circumvented by fear.

Those who give freely are those who give without intention. That is without intention beyond love. Any disruption in this system leads to pain, which is falsehood.

Intention undermined by falsehood leads to the ugliness of falsehood. As falsehood exists, though this falsehood too is underscored by the non-existence of fear.

Remember fear is merely the absence of love.

Take love as a shape, a black cloak, and set this shape to dance in the threshold of your mind. Have this love in form move in the light. The dark of love is still beautiful. The dark of love still whole. All forms of love are whole and complete.

Watch the dark move and the shape of love resonate. And now, with intention to recognize the absence of fear, move love. Create in your vision and perception for the darkness shrouding love to leave. Make love momentarily appear gone. See only where love was. And now trace an outline where love once was. Fill this outline with nothing, just air if you wish, as nothing is unfathomable. Now remove the outline, too, and see the nothingness filling up the space that was love.

That is fear: the emptiness filling up the space that was love.

Behind every intention that is formed with nothing, nothing is birthed. Behind every intention that is formed by love, love is birthed.

Take judgment, a misrepresentation of the absence of love, an illusion brought on by the pressures of wanting to be loved, this judgment taught by the masses to divide and classify and make “sense” of the world that is seen through the “senses.” Remove judgment, and the illusion of fear is seen. The aspect of love forgotten, conditions set forth to divide, and the movement of fluid love to conditional need.

Where there is need, there is outcome projected. Where there is outcome projected, there is need. Where there is outcome projected, there is false intention, where focus is on the future as wished, and not on the present of love.

If talking to one, who is WE merely represented by one, and another “one” questions with the intention of love, healing emerges from the depths, and intention born of love heals.

When “one” speaks to “one” for what would be called “self-motives” than love is lost. Not gone, but lost, waiting outside the shape of love to be called back.

“Self” temporarily removes love. Love appears erased but love is merely momentarily missing.

Love cannot be brought back by a calling or a wish, love comes of its own making, without intention. When one wishes upon love there is self-intention, and love escapes. The only way love answers is with the mystery of self without self. This is to say once “self” evokes love, love vanishes into the areas of unseen. Love remains, but disappears from our limited senses.

Love cannot exist in this realm for self and self alone. Love exists for We.

This is to say that to wish for a self-love, before wishing for whole-love, is backwards and reverse. To love self is essential, if one is viewed as self, and whole was divided as multiple selves. Yet this is a truism that can breed dismay or great pleasure. But always the two extremes.

For self does not exist in stagnant form to be fed by self-love. We can only feed that which is not divided. Love is not divided, nor does love recognize the divided. Love recognizes union without self-intention.
To claim self-love is to live in a state of familiar let down and continued questioning. To release self-love is essential. Self-love cannot be grown or transformed or reflected, because there exists no self. To love: the whole must be loved. The intention of love for the whole.

When “one” seen as “one” concentrates on the whole of what could be called goodness, on the picture of what could be, and what shall be for all, then love comes. One must see the whole picture, and in this is the wholeness.

None are to be singled out and made above or beyond, and in self-created love, which is a form of falsehood, then love is divided by intention.

To love, love from the perspective of whole: Whole loving whole.

What is good for the whole is good for the whole. We are not regulating you to love a whole so as singular you will benefit, as there is no you. You cannot be divided, as the tree cannot be divided by parts. You are WE and we is whole.

Once we claim separation, we are no longer in the comforting arms of love. This is not to say you are not unique and special. Each is unique and special as each is part of the whole. But the whole cannot be divided.

“I” cannot take an apple red and start to chunk out pieces with a carving knife and scatter the chunks and misshaped parts across a board, and claim this is “he” and this is “she,” and this is “him” and this is “her,” and look how special and grand each of these parts exists. This is an apple portioned into parts. “I” cannot determine the chunk that makes a complete piece of the whole. I cannot form a chunk that beneficially represents the whole.

No matter the size the shape or the division, “I” cannot equally divide an apple. And thusly WE cannot equally divide what is our whole into one form which is claimed you. For there is no way to determine, or more so recreate, that which is already divinely whole.

The world is a reflection onto self, but yet this self does not exist.

Imagine the apple piece looking up at self and wondering where to find whole. This is what self does. Self hammers away at chunk and multiplies division, thusly evacuating love once more.

Self need do nothing but recognize the absence of self and love enters. With the absence of self, giving becomes obsolete. As self is transformed into whole, and whole is love, and love gives without effort and intention.

Giving is no longer a verb but a noun. For giving equals love and love equals giving.

It is in the giving of self that love is birthed and rebirthed: Giving up the illusion of self.

This is not to indicate service. Giving of self has often been misinterpreted in the form of giving self. “One” can best “give” when self-intention is removed, and the self-intention is removed when self is removed. In this case self can vanish and truth can enter, truth of love and love of truth.

There is no doctrine that proclaims love, and love only, unless in doing so there is no division. When intention or division enters, love is removed. To honor the love, remove the intention and divisions.

Truth exists, but self must be removed to find the truth. And then as WE, truth is neither found or lost. Truth simply is.

Truth is love and love is truth. They are the same in one. There is no truth beyond love. There is no love beyond truth. This is where the universe ends and the elements are born, in the birthing place of love and truth. But truth cannot be found with self and self alone.

Truth seekers seek to know self first, but in truth they are searching to know whole, and whole is only temporarily masked by the illusion of self. So truth seekers, love seekers true, are in effect searching for truth in the whole, while masked in illusion.

Some will find the whole and others will be swallowed in self. The difference is clear. Look for intention without the use of sight. Feel the vibration of the words and the energy of the truth seeker. You can feel intention. You, as the perceived separated one, can feel intention, and this is either the heartbeat of love or the illusion of fear.

Remember fear begets fear which is nothing. Love begets love which is something.

What is the fruit of this apple tree, they say often, and this is to mean: Is love surrounding and growing or is fear illuminating from the space of nothing?

If fear is ringing louder than truth then illusion is present. If love rings alone, then love is present.
There is no other degrees of love. “One” cannot find a mixture, or to say a little bit of love with a lot of fear or a lot of fear with a little love.

There is either love behind intention or no love. And this will be felt as love, if serving the whole. If serving the self, the intention is a falsehood: a form or emotion, represented by the illusion of fear. You will know this well by the vibration and energy.

Choose love of whole and the vibration will heal the world. The whole is the answer and you are already this whole.

If the nothingness of fear is ringing than love is absent. Though truth and love are twins, they vary in their representation, when the illusion of nothing is heard. Love cannot change; love cannot alter; love cannot be silenced; but truth, in the ring of fear can be changed.

This is important to remember: Truth is silenced in the ring of fear.

Listen with that which is beyond senses and the love will be clear. Ask what the whole can do to love the whole and you, as perceived one, will have answers. Monitor the intention of one, and lead with the eyes of the whole.

~ Samantha Craft, 3-21-13
(This was written in one sitting this evening. I wrote what I heard, and was simply the observer of what I sensed and experienced. This is neither my truth nor my untruth. It simply is.)

344: Proof I am Alien… and Other Theories

| Aspergers Girls

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Alien Rod
In the x-ray image of me, there is a rod the aliens inserted; it starts in my brain and jets down to my mouth (see front tooth area for proof); it is my communication device where I glimpse elements of the future and am able to deem what avenues to take to protect myself and society. I receive messages at three in the morning in the form of complex and unearthly prose, telepathically received with beautiful images and divine sensation of wholeness and completion. The aliens look like angels and drive spaceships resembling the sun and/or the clouds. They are not scary. The rod doesn’t hurt, but makes for a cool zombie-like image. By examining this photo, note the size of my eye sockets and ears. I am alien for certain. I even have the alien-shape-face-thing going on. And yes, this is really me!

Audacious Spirit
Before I was shot down to earth by the spiritual beings, whom guard the hall of records in another realm, I met before a board of angel guides; they had agreed to help me in this life. I jumped up and down and was so excited about my list of goals I wanted to accomplish here on earth. Being headstrong and determined, I did not heed the warnings of the master experts, the ones with a thousand more lifetimes under their belts than me. I am one of those ambitious youngsters who thinks she is all that—the type the elders laugh at so loud the skies of heaven thunder. Of course, I was clueless to my hubris and audacity, and thought myself brilliant. I recited a long list. Essentially I wanted to learn all the life lessons possible in 88 years. At half-life I would metamorphosis and all my prophetic and empathic senses would kick in. I wanted to see in all ways: to know through all senses, e.g., feeling, experiencing, hearing, smelling, and seeing. I originally insisted on the sense of taste too, to know things through taste, but the angels demanded I throw at least one thing out. I wanted to experience extreme agony, displacement, heartache, rejection, abandonment, physical pain, and on and on. Just bring it on, was my attitude. I had no clue how long earth lives were, as I had never been a human before. I was a dolphin. Now I am stuck down here with this master plan, and I can’t change it. I dream of water all the time, and get uncanny cravings for fish. The good news is half of my life is over.

Dropped Down

I come from a planet where chocolate is the staple nutrient for life forms and no one eats animals or animal products. Actually no one eats anything beyond air, energy, and chocolate. There are twice as many trees. And the trees talk and sing. They are the only ones that talk. The rest of us speak telepathically, so there is no need to shift through the multiple variables of words to express the multiple variables of thought. Thought just arises in images and picture form and through emotion. Beings are conscious about their intentions; and there is little fear, as nothing is hidden. Nothing can be hidden. Faces change based on experience and emotion, and one’s energy. There is nothing that is stagnant. We see the energy of the world spinning, and multiple worlds within everything. Beings have soulmates, intense soul connections, kinship, and a knowing of peace and serenity. I was dropped down here on earth by accident. And it sucks.

The Woman’s Wisdom
I was a sage in my past life, something akin to a Buddha, but not quite. I was considered enlightened by all who encountered me and all whom heard my name; but then, this scrawny two-faced hermit lady, who lived in the deep caves of some forgotten unmentionable place, she came to me, and she cursed me with her wisdom.
She said: “You are a man in form in this lifetime. You are not truly enlightened in the complete sense, unless you come back to this realm as a woman, and as a woman in form you live through the following: the extreme emotional and physical confusion of hormonal cycling (for peak experience, live in the years beyond 2000, where the environmental toxins that mimic female hormones are abundant; PMS is a blast), the pain of giving birth, (and most of the complications that can arise while pregnant, including the agony of inducement), the challenges of marrying and living with a man, (as a woman you will see the male gender in an entirely new light), raising children, (and lets add children who never nap, don’t sleep through the night, have chronic health conditions in early child years, fight for the first ten years… non-stop), the experience of Aspergers, (your son and you will have this, but you will not recognize it in yourself until half of your life is over; that’s okay because with this condition you’ll have the capacity to fixate and obsess so much that you’ll figure yourself out in no time), the pressures society places on women to look beautiful, (you can rock that whole half-front tooth that turns dead thing), the cattiness of women turning against you and stabbing you in the back, the pain as a result of predators seeking you out, a chronic pain condition that has no explanation and no cure, and that people originally target as an imagined female condition. Hmmmm. (She smiled her toothless smile and raised a boney crocked finger.) And let’s add that whole mother-in-law dynamic bit. Of course female or not, you can still be endowed with all the gifts from this world: prophecy, precognition, seeing, sensing, knowing, feeling, empathy, revelations, energetic healing, etc. You can take all you need with you that you’ve gained from this life of a man, but I am telling you now, it shall not be enough! Do all this and come back to me at the end of the lifetime, and then you will be ready to teach me.” I concurred and naively agreed. After my nod, she quickly inserted, “And, just for fun, let’s give you voluptuous curves which you are entirely uncomfortable with, and the mind of a prudish, but lustful nun!” And with that, I was born.

Photo on 3-21-13 at 9.41 AM #2

343: How I long to be the sun

| Aspergers Girls

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How I long to be the sun…

I am such a dichotomy of prisms, multi-faceted in a way that confuses me, the observer.

I keep looking into myself and finding only tunnels, web-like hallways leading in all directions. There is such mystery here, and clutter. I am an open book, but not to myself. I am an open book to only that which I let out and that which I allow in. Even as I share so much, I hold eternity inside. I worry, when I have all the reasonings harvested of why not to worry. I fear, when I have all the reasonings set out of why not to fear.

I am this pendulum; this constant pendulum. I know not what moves me, but I am continually moved. At times I feel I become the person you are. At times, so many times, I lose the person I am. I absorb the world, all of the ingredients brought into me; and then I am left, in my loneliness, both awe-inspired and drowning in pain of recognition.

I see too much. I feel too much. I know too much. And there is no remedy.

I am the heap of pain that one carries on his shoulders. I am the sorrow of the mistress. I am the angst and guilt of the destroyer. I am the pillager weeping at the joyful bounty. I am the child in the glee-filled park. I am the mountaineer on highest peak. I am the widow crying at the grave. I am the tie tightened around my very neck, chocking me from the outside, to match the fury of pain within.

I am enveloped in need and then enveloped in release. I am tortured by thoughts and misery, and then let free by understanding and the depth of beauty. I am unstable, yet stable in my instability. I am consistent in my varying degrees of emotions. A spit-fire of desire brought to tender knees by only the touch of your words.

I am affected by all and none. This silence speaks to me. And the loudness hurts. I am the fury in your eyes. I am the heartache in your bosom. I am that raw pain that eats away at you. Time and again I rise, some mercenary to the many; unable to stop my vengeance; my need to take revenge, to beat the rhythms of my own soul down.

I am anger. I am rectification. I am renewal. I am lust. I am all this and more. And they merge and spin inside of me, claiming their take, and taking more than was offered. I eat of myself, devouring the agony.

If only I could find a way to balance the esteem of you with the esteem of my own being. If only I could find a way to stop the pain you feed me. Your naked trembling fear. To unchain the leash that takes me to the dark side of my own moon.

How I long to be the sun, the perfect sun shining overhead; and then with one touch, without consequence, to set free with flame this yearning for rescue.

~ Sam 3/20/13

342: Joy Sings

| Aspergers Girls

Yesterday, I saw the cover photo
ten

The brief moment of joy quickly passed to confusion, then sadness, then balance, and then back again to sparks of joy watered-down by questioning.

I was confused by the emotional and spiritual process I went through. I had been published! My words in print. Was this not a vision come true? Was this not a distant dream?

But still, with the news, with the confirmation, I felt a lingering sorrow.

I know I was battling between what is ego and what is self-satisfaction. I wondered if they were indeed the same.

I know I battled with humility. I know for an instant I felt proud or pride, or some related cousin. And I didn’t like the feeling.

At first I thought I was feeling guilty–guilt for feeling good about an accomplishment. I reasoned I was stifling happiness with the guilt of pride and the fear associated with losing humility.

I compared myself to others, and what I “should” be doing; how I should be celebrating. And then I logically debated all the reasons why this publication was not celebration-worthy. I questioned my capacity to feel “good.” I questioned my adequacy as a being. I went round and round in this circle of mixed emotions and deep, complex opposing thoughts. I searched out the caverns of my mind, until exhausted. And then I sank into body submission of fatigue.

Last night I prayed for refinement and serenity. And for much of today, I have found peace. I understand that I do not have low self-esteem—to me this is illusion. I understand that when I am confused about how to feel, it is because I have based my emotions, like much things in life, on a rule-book that I created founded by personal experience filtered through my senses. I realize, too, that yesterday I was no further from the truth than I am now.

It’s not that I had or have low self-esteem. It’s not that I don’t think I am unworthy or worthy. It’s not that I am acting prideful or humble. I am none of those labels or names.

It’s not what I was or who I was. It was where I was. I was lost. I was lost and pulled away from my faith. I was momentarily swept out of the presence and present. I was enticed by outcomes and promises.

I recognize when I am tuned into the collective universe, when I believe in the magic of the world, in the magic of you and me, and in the beautiful infinite possibilities for love, it is then I am whole and complete. The feelings don’t get jumbled and the thoughts don’t get all twisted, when I am clear in my connection to my higher power and higher good.

On reflection today, I spent some two hours reviewing joy and reviewing sorrow.

In my mind I saw the illusions.

Even though one of my visions has been realized (being published), I am not as joy-filled as I had expected, or perhaps as others might have expected. And that is okay.

Today I am recognizing joy’s partner: sorrow.

I couldn’t have completed The Ten Traits without decades of suffering. The words would not have been searched out by others had they not first had cause. My message would not be whole without first being carved out through pain. Both yours and mine.

And thusly, I am left wondering if indeed I do understand joy quite well. That if in fact, I am in a state of continual joy. But only through recognition of the ashes of suffering.

Joy Sings
I am joy.
Squeezing me out of me.
Releasing being like some over-expired lemon.
Disappointed in the bitter sour that remains.
Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.
Some ravenous fowl picking away at barred plumage.
My substance an existential shell of resistance, once labored to create.
Inside whispers: Complete though illusion.
Outside weeps: Unworthy in existence.
Opposites.
Naked, though cloaked in tattered rags, I waver, from one to the other.
Bemused, as sadness quakes, I sleep soundly through unawareness.
Forgotten upon shallow waters.
Until waved onward to deeper grounds.
Still bearing witness to starlit nights.
Though standing erect in dissatisfaction.
Invited by command to denounce self.
The suspicion of being, the suspicion of joy, scoured.
Incomprehensible happiness holding the hand of the lingering voice of no one.
“The obsoleteness of temporary. The absolute of change,” clangs the bell of the imagined captains.
I respond without breath.
And I question.
In accepting misery to circumvent suffering, did I not modestly forbade self-joy?
In rendering joy denied, do I accept misery in completion?
Thusly moves the wheel.
One axle: Seeker of non-truth whom claims found truth righteous.
One axle: Seeker of truth whom believes found truth not-righteous.
Who is this joker? This shadow? This phantom?
This awkward misrepresentation set down.
Left to squander in misgivings.
Where does this joy I am speak?
When not formed in shape and drifting.
Where does this joy live?
When unseen unless trapped.
Captured fleetingly in passing moments when invisible brother is silenced.
When the suspicion is eased. When the noise erased.
There I sing, this joy released to captivity.
Caged amongst the residue of sorrow escaped.

Sam 3-20-13

I found this a day after I wrote this post. Made me feel better. ❤ http://drarorasclinic.wordpress.com/2013/03/02/happiness-tips-13-experts-weigh-in-on-the-pursuit-of-joy/

341: The Mourning

| Aspergers Girls

I haven’t been able to write as of late.

I transitioned through immense amounts last year, especially during the month of November, transitioned through what I hesitate to call “junk,” but that which most certainly felt akin to garbage.

It was rumored, through various channels, that the end of last year would be a period of much availability for release. The key was to freely bring up the past and old aches, to tear open the scars, dig deep, and like magic, much would be healed.

Truth be told, and truth I often tell, this aforementioned rumor was mostly true. In fact, repeatedly I brought up to the surface my unfinished “business,” and repeatedly the thoughts, emotions, body-history, and spiritual “business” rectified itself and was reborn into sudden and freeing understanding, acceptance and forgiveness.

Interestingly, there was little analysis I undertook during this process. In explanation, I offer a contrast: instead of opening a book of an event or events and feeding myself the pages, unlike a reader, or even an observer, in my process of recovery of self, the experience was liken to watching some other part of something open a symbolic window to let the lingering pain in; and within that same instance of the opening, some force beckoned a sweeper, an unexplainable substance, that now entering the space of self, scoured away to dissolve unneeded residue.

A dear friend calls some people “sandpaper” friends. They refine us. They grate on us. In a certain bowing of spirit, we allow them to hurt us. But in the end, we come out better for the experience.

Well with the window open, and the sweeper entering, I felt the sandpaper. I felt the needling rough edges pry open my skin, go asunder, and dig up the muck and guck that had lived and harbored within. I felt the intensity; I felt extreme discomfort. I felt exposed. I felt found, singled-out, even hunted. And then, I gradually felt slaughtered and left to die. Until, in the swirling of sensation, that came rather abruptly and all at once, I was cleansed and left lighter.

Through this all there was no effort on my part. I didn’t try to heal myself. I didn’t even want to heal myself. What I prayed for was love. That and to be a vessel for spirit and light.

This is what I went through most of the winter season. One day after the next of windows opening, and then finding myself in the midst of both trouble and rescue. Until at last, after months on end, I begged for reprieve, for break, and opportunity for rest.

And rest came.

But soon following was a time period of vultures, of name calling, of doubting who I was and my own path. Then with the passing of these trials, after I’d faced more inner frailties and demons, I found a profound inner peace and knowing. I had a clarity and a comfort. I felt blanketed by the divine. I was granted an unbridled passion to create and communicate. And each morning, I experienced intense visions which included powerful visuals, healing words, and much beauty. This too, this rapture of passion coupled with the visions, like the sandpaper and vulture times, became daunting, and I begged too for these to stop. And they did.

Soon the window closed to whatever was entering.

And here I have sat in silence for over a week wondering what my next step is; while all the while I hear a distant whispering of “There is no next step.” A whisper reminding me everything is okay and is occurring in divine timing.

I think I am mourning what I thought I’d found. I think I am mourning this profound peace and understanding I had for several weeks—a traveling period where I saw heart-clouds in the sky and angel shapes everywhere I looked. A time of deep prophetic prose and agonizing, sweet-release through creation. I remember asking for this profoundness to stop, to give me reprieve, but I don’t think I ever thought the experience would truly end.

Yet, as I sit here now, I don’t wish it back; as much as I miss this part of where I have been and the connection I had, I am glad the window has shut. For it is time for me to move along my path further. A time of new mysteries and discoveries, and a time of further refining. I guess what is somewhat discomforting is I know I have made a spiritual vow of learning. I have made this life about growing, despite the personal cost. I have dedicated myself to being the best me I can be. And with this dedication, I understand there is no stagnant place. And there is no final place either. There is just this continued traveling to a new something and new someone.

I think I have been mourning the past selves. The ones who thought they found themselves. The ones who thought they knew so much. I am mourning the possibility of ever knowing again. As there is no knowing, and there is no finding this self I so diligently had searched and longed for. I am here. In all my states, in all my emotions, in all my frailties and fallings, I am here. And this acceptance of self, in all stages and all phases, past, present, and future, is perhaps the most frightening feeling of all. The learning I am enough. I am love. I am light. I am home. Whilst still traveling this road that eventually leads somewhere else.

Sam Craft, March 2013

Beautiful One
I love you. I don’t know why or how. I just do.
You are immeasurably good, immeasurably pure, immeasurably wonderful.
I want to wrap myself in your essence, to bathe in your beauty.
I want to pour my soul into you, my every thought, experience, desire and dream.
I want to harbor my pain there, within your secret chamber.
If only there were a door.
If only I could find a key.
If only you would open.
Instead, I glide past your existence daily; hour upon hour, building my hopes atop the other like a child with wooden blocks, thinking eventually something will tumble, something will crash.
But nothing ever does.
You remain, and I remain.
And I am left dancing around the image that I imagine you to be.
Standing in a threshold, I both created and wished into existence.
And here, in this imagined place outside of you, I have found the enterance to self.
In this endless delight of searching out the possibilities of you, I have found the remarkable possibility of me.
My friend, my entwined beautiful one, in the wanting of your glorious being, I am.
I am. I am.
And I smile from the deepest place of happy soul child.
Smile as I swing upon the healing rainbow of you.
Still searching for the treasure beyond the imaginary door.
Yet, knowing when you are found, when you have at last welcomed me forward, that I will fall in love not with one, not with two, but with the illumination birthed from the reunion of beauty.