A year before that poem leaped out of me into my writing journal, this poem crawled one letter and a time out of me into my writing journal, as rivers of tears and snot fled my eyes and nose.
He is the paper,
the ink his blood,
the pen his soul,
and the poet is God.
Not long after, this arrived in similar fashion.
He feels deep beauty in the dark pool from which his writings flow, she clings to him like fine silk precious oil, she feels compressed, solid- like a black pearl growing very larger from inside out with each stroke of his pen, pushing her precious waters over her banks into his dreams and life.
Makes me think, when we are present to the seemingly mundane tasks that must be done, when we turn our minds towards intentionality, it is easier to hear "the eternal throb of spirit." And in that hearing, hearing ourselves and knowing the next right place towards which to turn our attention. This piece was a beautiful way to begin the day. Thank you 🙏
Bravo Eric. You nailed it. We are all part of that One Thing discovering Itself through us and through everything. We are but instruments through which it experiences Itself endlessly and forever. We are momentary figments of Its imagination.
Thank you! I literary came to read this by pure fluke. Honestly for some time, i have been really doubting if my life is worth living. The bad times seem to outweigh the good, and for some shear miracle I am still going.
Thank you Eric! This inspired me to spend the morning in contemplation and actually write something in a note with the reposting of this. Something I would not have done otherwise. I am deeply grateful.
Phenomenal! Something to be read every day at least once !
Amen
Earth-
the sacred prism
through which souls are refracted
into their elemental parts,
purified in Holy Fire,
then one-forged
and sent on their way
to not even God knows where,
simply because they are all
unique emanations of God,
Evolving…
A year before that poem leaped out of me into my writing journal, this poem crawled one letter and a time out of me into my writing journal, as rivers of tears and snot fled my eyes and nose.
He is the paper,
the ink his blood,
the pen his soul,
and the poet is God.
Not long after, this arrived in similar fashion.
He feels deep beauty in the dark pool from which his writings flow, she clings to him like fine silk precious oil, she feels compressed, solid- like a black pearl growing very larger from inside out with each stroke of his pen, pushing her precious waters over her banks into his dreams and life.
This echoes my morning meditation and journaling this morning in a much more eloquent and beautiful way! 🙌🏻
"Our task is not to lose ourselves to
the mundane necessities,
but to courageously overcome
all that keeps us from hearkening
the eternal throb of the spirit."
Makes me think, when we are present to the seemingly mundane tasks that must be done, when we turn our minds towards intentionality, it is easier to hear "the eternal throb of spirit." And in that hearing, hearing ourselves and knowing the next right place towards which to turn our attention. This piece was a beautiful way to begin the day. Thank you 🙏
We are here to be the poem! Keep writing! We need you 🙏❤️
Bravo Eric. You nailed it. We are all part of that One Thing discovering Itself through us and through everything. We are but instruments through which it experiences Itself endlessly and forever. We are momentary figments of Its imagination.
Thank you!
That was a blooming good read! Thanks
Excellent.
I keep coming back to - This -
To live - To Be -
The finest verb, but not just "To Be" but { To live - To Be - }
Make it new, keep going, flow like each river flows.
Thank you Erik <3
Thank you!
yes
Outstanding.
Thank you! I literary came to read this by pure fluke. Honestly for some time, i have been really doubting if my life is worth living. The bad times seem to outweigh the good, and for some shear miracle I am still going.
Eric, your poem is SUBLIME! 🌈.
“ To become a nobody, in the highest sense
of the word, a BEING whose nature
transcends the lower realms of
the synthetic self, and to coalesce with the
timeless flame -- the "divine creative
energy resounding through all things."” 🔥
Ole! Eric is on fire.
Thank you Eric! This inspired me to spend the morning in contemplation and actually write something in a note with the reposting of this. Something I would not have done otherwise. I am deeply grateful.
That's beautiful, thank you!
to fully live, listen to nature not news.
feel the land, smell the water, drink the air.
embrace stillness in all its forms.
carry only what is necessary in your mind, in your heart, and on your back.
this is true freedom.
craft it, savor it.
LBM 7.6.2024