Tag: creative writing

Poetry and prose from the heart.

The most important choice.

Post author By thegodwithinblog
Post date July 6, 2017
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The most important choice still is yours to make,

To reach all great success and happiness in life,

Is not confined to your voice or to the action you take,

But it is in the magic beyond all strife.

Some choose good looks and some skills for sport,

Some choose vast wealth and some a sense of duty;

But I enjoy powerful imagination and all that sort,

You know me, all my being is about creating beauty.

Which one of those would you choose before birth…??

Good looks are fine but may increase your self-admiration.

Skills for sport are great but limited to this earth.

Vast wealth does not work for me, I want spiritual elevation.

See, I wanted all, so I fought like a lion before birth for this:

I fought for unlimited imagination because it is the greatest power,

Our very existence and the natural magic which creates all bliss,

The deep sea, the intensity of the skies, the blooming of the flower.

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Tags creative writing, emotions, Heart, Life, meditation, motivation, Poetry

Stories to ponder.

…The morphing shapes were many as they trailed behind the ominous shadows of the tunnel, they squiggled and portended what could be held for them; and they maintained a steady pace, together in a line, believing in themselves and keeping to their wits. And as they kept moving forth, background screams, machine guns and explosions blasted the stagnant air of the underground; but, however, they did not waver or halt pace.

And they encountered voices and echoes, most of them making no sense to them. And they heard cackles and shuffles, both nigh and distant. And there was not any normalcy, logic or sanity in what reached their ears. But they knew. They knew something was coming and they had to be prepared for the worst!

The dilapidated and rusty handrail attached to the tunnel’s wall, then shook abruptly and wouldn’t stop! Something was definitely afoot. The air rippled around them! Pockets bloated the space among them! Blop– Blop– Blop– The liquid sludge next to them carried splashes and currents like someone heavy quickly approached!

And so it happened that they witnessed a fairly distant light, and this light was bright and powerful, and it emanated a subtle yet magnetic pull that rippled the air and caused the tunnel to seem smaller and daunting. And they understood what this light was, even though it was the sole meaning that ripped the very core of their fear.

It was obvious this was their main way out—as in the demon’s route out of Hell!—and that is why they were here searching for them. They had to seal this portal. They had to succeed. Otherwise, chances were grim. Very grim. Final, in fact. And the risk was high, for this wasn’t a normal scenario by any means. This was the big leagues. And the time to act was now. See, for centuries this threat to humans had been averted, not given any thought whatsoever; oceans were calm, earth was stable, God watched over us, Satan tempted us, man reigned his own territory and progressed as per own choice and own will. But now things were chaotic, and called for a more substantial/abrupt approach. The Gates of Hell had been opened, and they had to be shut. They had to be locked.

So as this went on with might, they stopped pace!— Suspense climbed and razor-sharp fear started to creep up their spines. The core of the mentioned light exploded in front of them!

“Umm. Gu—Guys, what is going on?” Kristin drawled in between grinding teeth. “Who—?? Or what—??”

Raphael and Praopethuss kept vigil, eyes following every potential subtleness in the stagnant air.

“Shhh,” shushed Jimmy. “Gimme your hand. They’re coming.”

“Who’s coming?” She was gripping his hand as hard as she could.

STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!

“Jimmy, make it visual for us,” Raphael said.

Jimmy struggled to loosen the grip she had on his hand, then proceeded forward. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

STOMP! Jimmy stepped in front of the group, sensed his surroundings, knelt, and began physical contact with the eerie tunnel. STOMP! His mental connection quickly surged through his arm, out his hand and into the ground—it covered a large patch and made it tremble slightly, then it interlaced and mixed with the air, it cleared simple view and checked for any constructs in it. Ripples exploded in small gusts of air. But they saw nothing alarming, not any hidden demons or constructs. STOMP! STOMP!— But something kept coming, nonetheless.

“Sorry. Nothing,” he added.

STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!—

“Keep your guard!” Praopethuss shouted.

And the air vibrated slightly and the ripples kept surrounding them. Thus, it grew and grew. And seconds gripped the nerves…

. . .

STOMP! STOMP! STOMP STOMP!— It kept coming and echoing louder and louder, stronger and stronger until they saw the humongous shapes and silhouettes that sent chills to their spines and electricity to the back of their necks. They were humanoid-looking beasts of fairly large size each! They came at them like a pack of wolves at the very sight of their blocking stance! They wouldn’t budge—and so it felt like the clash of titans right in the putrid tunnels had started!

They carried their sharp claws and agility, superhuman strength and concentrated evil. Taking advantage of it, two of them quickly had leapt and were now ferociously attached to the wall like slimy slugs; and their growling-and-harsh sounds were piercing and intimidating, but, as it were, they would not cause an emotional determent in Raphael and his Sentients.

They drooled and emanated a foul stench that increased sickness and terror, their physical moves were calculated and unexpected, and they came up the liquid sludge as well as directly in the path they were currently on. These demons and Hell creatures, Raphael and the rest knew, had come out of the bright light, the portal connected to Earth directly in the sewers.

And one of them came rushing atop Jimmy! Sluussshhh-Sttaaack!!— Its slime was overpowering and disgusting, and Jimmy felt bathed by it, almost swallowed by it. “Get him off me! Get him off me!” He tried setting himself free, writhing and punching at the beast, but its tentacles were too strong, fairly sticky and full of mucosa.

Kristin and Raphael fought ferociously to disentangle Jimmy and free him from the hideous-looking creature, but to avail of nothing.

“Guys, look!” Praopethuss pointed out in back of him. “Over there!—”

Through the darkness of the smelly tunnel, in between the splashing of beasts and the measurement of the chaos, someone came running and jumping from the tubing attached to the sewer’s domed ceiling—a familiar shape, a light of hope at that exact moment. And so Johnny came dashing and leaping, averting demons, and monkey-bar-dangling with perfect precision. He was so precise and fast with his punches and dagger thrusts that he annihilated the mentioned Hell perpetrators on the spot.

Johnny landed right next to Jimmy and the slimy creature, then pierced the blade firmly into it. “That’s my brother, you Hell Spawn!” A powerful light filled the creature and it began to crack like porcelain! Then there was a sudden burst of juices and gelatin-like flesh and innards that ejected all over them!

Jimmy could now barely see through the light but heavy skin of gelatin-like substance. “Damn. Johnny, that was, um, that was quite an epic entrance.” His hands wiped off the crap from his eyes. “…And thanks.”

“You’re welcome, bro,” he said behind a grin. “Now, let’s give them the kinda hell they came here for.”

“Good to have you back,” Raphael stated.

The monsters were now attacking from everywhere and anywhere, and the team was firmly standing their ground; loud shrieking and overwhelming screaming were now tearing up the air around them, sending pure adrenaline into their bloodstream. And so these monsters were leaping violently atop them. They averted their jumps and thrusts. Johnny managed to pierce many of them using his trusty and powerful dagger—which would cause its victims to bleed to death instantly!

And there were blinding explosions and light that shielded the beasts’ attacks, for Raphael and the rest used great power and strength from their inner auras; and Johnny would block their hell-raising wrath with the mighty dagger, which continuously would pulse and emit powerful and sizzling light…

Tags creative writing, Entertainment, fiction, fun, literary art, story

Stories to ponder.

The quiet interview.

At a police station interrogation room located somewhere in the U.S., typical police misuse of power happened…

“Ok, listen, White Face, you’re a direct suspect identified by many people on the street, so better start talking!”

…

“Not talking, eh… Is hot under these lights, isn’t it? It seems your girly make-up is melting away… like your funny expressions.”

… (But his girly make-up was not melting away, as the fat cops were certainly sweating like true pigs.) He suddenly shrugs his shoulders and puckers his lips in some attempt to convey something no one understood what the hell it was.

The first cop says, “Well, what da hell is that?–” The second cop frowns, rubs his own belly, and leans back in his chair; then he breaks the chair and lands flat on the ground, then he realizes he’s been smoking his cigarette backwards and burns his lips. “Ouch! Dammit–” The heat soon swelters his mouth. Mother******!!!”

… He offers his made up glass of water to the second cop that was sending smoke signals from the inside of his mouth and that contorted his body like an effeminate ballerina.

The first cop says, “Well, well, well, well…” Then he snatches the invisible glass from his hand and hurls it to the floor in a fit of rage! Pieces of glass shower the scene, and he continues more calm, “…Well… Well… Well. You’re not only accused of attempted murder on the street, with your little moves, but now you’ve assaulted my partner. And under my acute eagle eyes which never miss a thing. This will cost you, White Face!”

… He adopts a confused facial expression and rolls his balloon eyes, then purses his lips and shakes his head in quick denial.

The second cop sits his sore ass on a second chair and keeps smoking, “It’s no use Captain. He won’t talk.”

Tags creative writing, Entertainment, fiction, fun, story, Thoughts

Stories to ponder.

Out and without limits.

I… I saw blackness… Yes, pure and frightening, cold to the very marrow of my bones. Pitch dark like night without moonlight, it was. I… I thought I was done, or… I did not think I existed or I had ever existed. Who was I…?? Or what was I…?? Are you taking notes right now? I see your bright eyes upon mine and I think you are following this, but your expensive pen is not moving.

The… The obnoxious, chattering voices were gone now; they had haunted me while I stared into that ceiling, white and smooth, in the corridor and then in the room. I thought my casket. Blood was everywhere, somehow I knew but I couldn’t feel it because I was cold and in a… in a state of… absence, you know… Suddenly, I felt fresh and sharper, mentally, all I felt and experienced was my mind, but quiet, forgiving, in peaceful unity somehow because there were no dual voices, no noise and no distraction. Just the experience of being there. And a bright light, not blinding but spewing energy and a brightness which gave me confidence, strength, courage. It was not above me this light, but I… I think it was all over, wherever I was, or perhaps I was the light because I found no division between this light and my persona or my mind. But, yes, definitely, I knew I existed now. Yes. Hey, pay attention– People should know this; some will mock it, some will believe it and connect to my experience, some will just accept it for what it is… Whatever it is.

The article will be in the cover, yes? I need to spread my message. Or whatever happened. It is unbelievable, isn’t it? Is hard to believe it myself, but I was there, I… was everywhere. I think. Maybe. Definitely! …So the light, man, wow– I cannot explain really. I had walked under the very Summer sun before, but this… this was me, and I was the sun. But I was more, much more. There was no tunnel though, there were stars and forms and other lights at a distance. And soon there were many colors, textures, sweet harmony–music or sounds really low but kind of vibrating… Yes! Vibrating within me, or around me, or all over really. Was it all a dynamic but peaceful dance…?? I am not sure, but I was fresh and moving. I do not know for sure if I traveled or not, if I displaced an inch or not, but I did see everything happening. The doctors. The nurses. The techs. The constantly loud machines. And… the blood. So much of it. And I saw and I experienced myself. How was that possible…?? I don’t know, but my vision, my hearing, and everything else was maximized tremendously.

And I was now feeling my arms, my legs, my head, my heart beating steady, but my thoughts weren’t there, it was a blank. Was I really empty…??… Mind is everything, I read in one of your articles. And, yet, mine wasn’t chatting anymore, it was not there. Perhaps, I was experiencing my mind in quiet mode, a more elevated mind I did not know existed before. Universal Mind…?? Infinite Intelligence…?? But I kept looking at me and the others in a sort of trance. I was there but I was not there, like I was experiencing a world beyond what I had before experienced. Don’t forget to add that to your notes, it is very important. We’ve just started this…

Your consciousness is not limited to your brain and body, but it is outside them as well. Through the hidden and mysterious mind, the subconscious mind, you tune into Infinite Intelligence. In certain human situations, people call this out-of-body experiences and also astral projection, but in reality you do not go anywhere; you stay put because your consciousness is everywhere already, but your mind and body are limited and affected by what you know of your limited world, stored memories in your subconscious, so you feel like you have moved to places. You are everything already.

Tags creative writing, Freedom, meditation, Mind, Mind power, spirituality, story

Stories to ponder.

The beat down at the campus.

Post author By thegodwithinblog
Post date June 23, 2017
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On a seemingly normal day, Michael Barnes, professor of Creative Writing at Utah State University, was taking a nice walk to his car right after class…

Hmmm, there lingered a concerned ebb and tranquil course tightly bound by the structures of his new chosen life. He was quite happy, yet there was something missing… Something, indeed. His new life was defined by his oscillatory students’ grades and by his published novels’ many successes. The profound mouth of the unforgiving winter that had begun gave bitter-way to a most hesitant spring and wrecked in the warmth and unassuming nature of the second semester’s final week.

There was something, though, that wanted to get out, that wanted to come back; part of him fought against serenity, even though he had chosen to erase that chapter of his past life long ago. His memory would not let him forget about it. A very strong part of his concealed former life, long ago when younger, in the seemingly clandestine service of the U.S. government, the part that would always remind him that he had deserted and vanished under his new name, new face, new life, and new identity.

Six years had been since then, but he still had the nightmares once in a while, it was engraved in his blood, in his secluded mind and tortured soul. The stress and shocking brutality of his great love’s death had been the major catalyst of his mental and physical metamorphosis.

Cloudy afternoon with dark shades in the firmament. He was out near the empty parking lot when he heard raspy and harsh, deep voices and heated conversations, and saw large and massive shadows moving along the far building wall.

“You betta have all my money, bitch, otherwise we gon’ slit ya’ fucking throat!”

“I—I’ll have it next week, I—I promise,” the voice stuttered scared.

Michael dropped the stack of papers and books he had been carrying and sprinted toward the voices. He stopped before nearing them and saw three young black men, about twenty-five to thirty years old, wearing long black trench-coats threatening to bring a world of pain, or even death, to a younger white male. They were violently trapping him against the wall.

They had a particular stance, which Michael studied carefully; their knees slightly bent, their strong upper limbs loose but threatening, and one of them holding a pocket knife. They were boldly dominant and ready to slice him up!

“Muthafucka,” snarled one, wiry and a bit twitchy. His face defiant and of strong features. “Give us our money or we’ll cut ya. You been told and your time is gone, you hear me?!”

“Man, you fuckin’ prick, dunno shit, don’tcha.” He stepped up to the kid and readied his sharp blade.

The scared young victim-not more than twenty years old-began to tremble and beg for his life. They laughed raucously and sinisterly, making mocking gestures and clicking their pocket knives for threatening effect, at what the white male shrank back farther away against the wall as the black guys closed in. The one closer put the knife closer to his throat.

One of them, thick-muscled, heavyset, drew an arms-length metal pipe from underneath his black trench-coat, looked to both sides, and got ready to bash him. “That right, bitch! Lemme break his punk-ass fruity hands, Dar.” He gripped the pipe tighter in his hands in a batter stance. “Just tell me how d’you want it, baby. I’ll break ya fucking skull.”

“Yo, man, put that away!” the boss ordered, while nearing the blade to his thin throat.

As the wiry kid put the pipe down and obeyed cursing under his breath, Barnes hurried at them. So quiet was his attack, so targeted were they on their malignant and gruesome intentions that they did not became aware of the pounding they were about to suffer.

He grabbed the wiry kid’s pipe in his right hand as it was resting down, left elbowed him in the face, then the kid cursed mightily to this pain and fell down to the ground unconscious.

One knocked-the-hell unconscious on the floor. Two to go!

When the second one saw this, he instantly swung his balled-fist at a very alert Michael, knuckles sweeping through the air with sharp-edged rings, these big-ass rings aimed directly to his ribs.

At that moment, from that hidden and dark place in his brain, synapses exploded and memories flowed like current, and the Ex persona took control. The now active Jay Ex deflected the steady-rushing blow with his left arm by doing a circular blocking motion, advanced two small steps, and then balled-fist with his two fists at the same time into the thug’s lower rib cage section. He went down like a sack of potatoes, clawing at his chest and squirming.

The third and last thug, meaner and larger than the other two (more muscular and about six feet tall plus in height), cursed and dropped the pocket knife, then unveiled an almost two feet butcher’s knife from underneath his loosened trench-coat. He lunged psychotically at the Ex persona, who studied in less than a second the fast movement of the huge thug, delivering a quick and clean blow to the side of the hand holding the knife; the weapon was thrown clear like a projectile, the hand of the thug was left dangling sore as it had been targeted at the wrist with full precision.

A very robotic, very movement-calculated Ex produced a swift kick to the back of his right knee and then this one bent like paper, then, suddenly, he snaked his right arm around the large thug’s neck (he had to jump a bit since he was just 5’9” and the thug a full six feet 4 inches).

“I will not repeat this again…” he whispered with confidence and calmness into his ear. “In five seconds I will let go and all of you will disappear, so I will not have to hurt you any further. This is final, you hear!” He slowly let go of him while making sure they understood this. Then they hurried away swearing and gasping for air, agitated for the shocking display. The one that had been unconscious on the ground was woken up by one of his mates, moaned and cursed about his broken tooth, and started running away with the rest.

Tags creative writing, emotions, Entertainment, fiction, fun, story

Poetry and prose from the heart.

Hope and belief

“We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.” ~ Martin Luther King, Jr.; American Baptist minister, and Civil Rights Movement activist.

“Hope and Belief”

It is a sign in the sky,
When all is blue and begins to cry;
And when the drops start to fall,
It is like falling out of love;
And when love away does fly,
It feels like a void deep inside;
And when our life feels hollow and dry,
It feels like withering to little by little die;
And when we have no goals at the end,
It is just like direction from above hasn’t been send;

And when we are lost and set adrift,
There is only the memories we have lived;
And when we stop making new memories to remember,
It is like no personal growth or bliss to enter;
And when we change direction to thoughts of depression,
It is like we lost all sense and determination;
And when we give no sensitive ear to the whisper of the heart,
It is like drowning ourselves in the depths of the seas’ most dark;
And when our hearts stop the rhythm of life,
We have lost the beauty around us which lies in plain sight …

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Tags creative writing, emotions, happiness, meditation, Mind, Thoughts

Poetry and prose from the heart.

The hidden substance of it all.

Post author By thegodwithinblog
Post date June 20, 2017
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“I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge. That myth is more potent than history. That dreams are more powerful than facts. That hope always triumphs over experience. That laughter is the only cure for grief. And I believe that love is stronger than death.” ~ Robert Fulghum; American author and Unitarian Universalist minister.

This is an excerpt from a book I am writing, titled: “Inner Wealth. Outer Wealth.” About wisdom to reach spiritual, emotional, mental, and all financial success.

Once, eternally before and beyond all recorded history, eternally before and beyond all space and time, there was one unity, one power, one ALL, one-ness; and so, as the condition was one and the experience existing was one with this condition, the potentialities for further growth were rich and vast, the very essence of all beauty and design flowed freely. This substance of incredible creativity and imagination was all, and beat as one heart which was all. There was no strain and no limitations. There was no concepts of material or immaterial. There were no different creations as we now know, but there was only the essence, the very Thought of Creation. The Great Mind was all. The Great Mind still is all.

And then, in this Mind which was all, in this Thought which was all, experience sizzled in itself and the very heart for beauty and life could not burst or transcend itself, for this substance of beauty and life was itself beauty and life and it did not have an end to reach out and bring about creation. There were no walls to break down. No rules to break. No competition for the development of ideas. There was no duality. No two poles. No love and no fear. No thought and emotion as we know and experience now. But imagination and its potential was just one and all that existed.

And then it created an image of itself within itself, it unselfishly craved the experience of itself within itself; therefore, space and time appeared like a magic trick, and this substance divided itself within itself to thus create another substance of life, of dimensional and qualitative, of experimental and dual existence. From the corpuscle it began work throughout billions upon billions of years. From the micro-world onto the macro-world. And the creations were many and rich, creative and destructive, beautiful and ugly, of light and of dark; and, so, life was competition now because it was dual—i.e. two poles, two opposites, better and worse, rich and poor, God’s Eternal Mind and the lower beings’ mortal minds. But, still, imagination maintained existence, the very essence now covered in matter, now covered in different flesh and thought, limited by flesh and thought, and expressing itself within flesh and thought.

Hard to imagine this substance we now call imagination, isn’t it? Back then, before time and space were born, this entity had no qualities or concepts to speak of, like ‘genius,’ or ‘prodigy,’ or ‘gifted.’ Our human brains use images and concepts to experience and think about something clearly, so if there are no images and no exact concepts in my description, then, our intellects stress over it and might even deny such existence. But what is important here is not the description I give, but the very essence of this substance is; hence, this incredible substance is our flesh and thought, it still exists within each of our cells, it forms our consciousness, it sustains our body and mind which are in fact the substance’s shell.

Always remember you are imagination and creativity, the building substance flows within your cells and mind, no matter who your thought says you are, the education your mortal mind has, or the age your body reflects in the mirror; ergo, as you experience it yourself, you only have to bring that energy or marvelous substance out and use it to create in the material world. So, create!

“Everything you can imagine is real.” ~ Pablo Picasso; Spanish painter, sculptor, print-maker, ceramicist, stage designer, poet and playwright.

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Tags creative writing, meditation, Mind, Poetry, Prose, spirituality, Writing

Poetry and prose from the heart.

Secret Valley (30-sec. read)

Post author By thegodwithinblog
Post date June 15, 2017
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My poem and painting from the heart…

Secret Valley

The secrets the whisper hides,

The beauty which is never ugly,

The love essence which survives,

The honest heart which is lovely.

Of other worlds and dimensions I know not,

Of traveling beyond the stars only in imagination;

But the spirit remains like a flame within me hot,

There is greater purpose in inner contemplation.

My character and temper are often ill and quick to explosion,

And my violent anger and rushing fear then become who I am;

But there exists within me far beyond thought and emotion

A bright and powerful substance which is no heated sham.

True nature is the greatest love and the most profound peace,

And is discovered deep within me and apart from my rebellious thought;

Secret valley of greens and blues, waterfalls and birds which do not cease,

Unpolluted paradise, life itself and the loving experiences it has brought.

Tags creative writing, Freedom, happiness, Heartfelt, meditation, motivation, mystery and beauty of life, Poetry

Anatomy and physiology of life

The dark cloud.

“What I try to do is write. I may write for two weeks ‘the cat sat on the mat, that is that, not a rat.’ And it might be just the most boring and awful stuff. But I try. When I’m writing, I write. And then it’s as if the muse is convinced that I’m serious and says, ‘Okay. Okay. I’ll come.’” — Maya Angelou; American poet, memoirist, and civil rights activist.

“Writer’s block is a condition, primarily associated with writing, in which an author loses the ability to produce new work, or experiences a creative slowdown. The condition ranges in difficulty from coming up with original ideas to being unable to produce a work for years. Throughout history, writer’s block has been a documented problem.” Jesus Christ!– They make it look like is some dying of brain cells or some serious and irreversible condition! I have to say, when I read this in Wikipedia I couldn’t believe how much fuss they have made over it, and this is exactly why most people see writer’s block as a real condition, like having the flu, or a stomach virus, or, even worse, a serious breathing problem or some type of mental disease or even a cancer. But, remember, what you think you become, and what you think constantly about your mind creates as reality. Reality in your life is what your mind says it is, because as you think you start believing; hence, once you start believing something, the cellular make-up in your body produces the chemicals and the sensations your body and your mind design in you as what you call writer’s block.

As a really serious writer and deep thinker, this is a very important topic for me personally; because at some point in the beginning of my career I also thought (because of all the fuss they keep making about it) that I would suffer this from time to time, and I have walked out of my computer desk just because I thought writer’s block was something real and that I had to rest my brain for a few days to heal and be ready to welcome the muse again. But, in reality, I discovered that it is just a trick of the mind, like the fear we may experience in life or the anxiety we create just by thinking about the things that can go wrong in our life. Furthermore, it is the pride we feel in writing something superb and excellent from the first line, we want that feeling of knowing that the writing is great from the get-go, we want to know that we are great in the first stroke of the pen or key-stroke of the computer; hence, it is not a real condition of the mind but the fear and impatience of creating something marvelous in the first page. And that makes it all kept under our control, and we do not have to walk out of the desk whenever we feel this, and even lose days without writing.

So, it is worth noting that which is understood at this point, that the muse or essence/power of writing is not on waiting for something divine to present itself into our minds, but the key is to demand it passively because it is our right and gift as human beings, it is essentially creative energy in our consciousness (in the consciousness of the garbage man as in the consciousness of the professional writer; however, this creative energy is more pronounced in the writer due to the mental practice and the living we make out of using it every day).

Now, as professional and serious writers we have to push through the lethargy and boredom of watching the blank page, just like the marathon runner which does have to actually start running to achieve his goals of competing in the marathon and accustom his muscles to be great at it, even though he might not feel the energy to run that particular morning. It is all about starting, even though you might not have great thoughts to start writing, even though you might not have all the details of the character or the scenery in your mind’s eye, even thought you might not have a specific path for your story or character, even though you might not have an idea to create your character, and even though you might start writing uninteresting nonsense about your story, so I repeat, IT IS ALL IN STARTING SOMETHING, your job is to write, period, so write without excuses.

While you start your writing perhaps not very interestingly, it will develop itself, ideas will start coming to you because then your conscious energy will be attracted by your commitment and strength of will (the traits of the true leader); therefore, this energy or muse is yours for the taking, and if you do your part then it will follow your wishes to succeed in your writing venture. You are the master and leader, the muse is your servant and follower; however, most writers think that they are the servants and followers of this so-called muse, just waiting for it to strike and make its appearance, just hoping to allure this substance of creativity by not chasing it and by praying that it comes on its own.

The muse or creative energy does not come to you from the conscious mind, even though we use the conscious to mold ideas and structure story plots; it comes from the subconscious, which is where imagination comes from, and we have heard many great artists say that they have gotten great ideas and art forms from their dreams and from taking nature walks–i. e. being one with this divine energy which belongs to each of us, but we need to embrace it and claim it if we are to use it to our own advantage. But, as it is, the ego (the lazy, dual and all-confusing, monkey mind) lives in the conscious mind, and this ego we can experience it more when the mind tries to wait for a “stroke of genius” to come on its own, if you will; and so it is this ego-substance which tells us that we have writer’s block, and which tells us that we are not ready to write something creative and interesting, and which tells us that we cannot come up with anything to write about.

To make it shorter, we can beat the ego by “taking the bull by the horns,” as they say, by being our own leader and demanding the right to creativity; this is done, in my own experience, by brainstorming on a piece of paper about characters, scenes, story plots, emotional and psychological content, story messages and impressions you want to express, whatever you want to write related to your story. This is also done by writing whatever you have in mind at the moment, because, the more you stare to that blank page, the more confusion and fear of writing your ego will communicate to your mind and body. Besides, remember, the real story-telling is not in the clarity and strength of your first draft, but it is in the editing; thus, the editing makes the story attractive because you are clearer in your vision, but for this clarity to come and appear you need a first draft (it does not matter what it looks like).

So, keep writing without being a perfectionist, which kills the art; see, true art is not about perfection, but true art is about human vulnerability and emotional expression. This moves people, it connects people. Nobody on earth is perfect, so perfection does not connect people, it distances people and it distances you from your real art. Do not be afraid of writing and developing ideas. You are in command if you wish to be and start writing patiently but steadily. Rome was not built in a day.

Tags Business, creative writing, Freedom, Mind, Mind power, motivation, psychology, self-help, story, Thoughts, Writing

The free mind of a human god!

The way of the magic (1-min. read)

Post author By thegodwithinblog
Post date June 12, 2017
No Comments on The way of the magic (1-min. read)

“The true sign of intelligence is not knowledge but imagination.” ~ Albert Einstein; German-American physicist and major influencer on the philosophy of science.

Everything you see with your mind and with your physical eyes as well, and everything you experience within and around you is made up of energy, highly conscious energy. The great buildings, the great art, computers, trees, grass, soil, clouds, air, relationships, events, humans and animals, the past, the present, the future, and absolutely everything else you can think of is born and sustained out of energy; such energy shaping and guiding it all, the energy which creates it all. And when it comes to the man-made stuff I just mentioned, like great buildings, it was first born into the mind of someone; therefore, someone saw it within his mind, moved the psychic energy around to fit a shape, quality and meaning, and compiled it into a vivid realization with a unique message for the human race, then that same mind worked with other minds and brought the mental image into the outer material world, but great imagination is always behind it all.

In human relationships, for example, there are so many arguments and disputes, bad judgements and frustrations, break-ups and divorces, all misunderstandings and misconceptions which lead to confusion, disappointment and suffering, because most of us forget or ignore the existence and higher purpose of this energy or energies; hence, the building essence of all relationships is to find a way (and there is always a way) to work together as families, friends, lovers, partners, neighbors, etc. etc., but we ignorantly use our ego (which is not even close to the energies of imagination and creativity) while believing erroneously that our reason and perspective, intellect, can always fix and enrich everything. This is our lower-thinking because it is guided by the ego and its selfishness (even though we might not think we are being selfish at the time; the purpose of the ego is to make it look normal and deceive us into thinking we are right and fair).

Imagination is not just creating a beautiful work of art or innovating with a brilliant idea, but it is knowing how to create value within your own persona and share that value with others in relationships, it is how to work out problems or issues and get to solutions in your life, and perhaps most importantly is the moving of people by connecting with them and not by enforcing your opinions or demands in a certain situation–for example, if you and your significant other have a problem and you enforce your views then there is going to be resistance and maybe even frustration in the other person; however, if you use and manage your imagination you can come up with a more meaningful way in which you can benefit both, and that can help you get a better connection in the relationship and deeper understanding of both viewpoints.

Imagination is that which builds, because it molds to the higher understanding and necessity of the human being, it is flexible and nonlinear; but reason and logic do not build, because they are strict, linear.

But the ego does not build, it deceives people into thinking reason and logic out of the ego-mind creates and designs all; however, whatever creates true beauty and absolute harmony in the world and in all your relationships is divine energy, or energy which is not flawed or bias like the ego energies of the mind. This divine energy (which is only called “divine” because it comes from far beyond time and space and the very mortality of man) is all true creativity and honest manifestation of beauty and strength, and by being shaped and given qualities by our minds then it is called imagination due to the images we form with it.

“You can’t do it unless you can imagine it.” ~ George Lucas; American filmmaker and entrepreneur.

But, you see, the imagination within our minds, or the essence of this energy, is raw, unformed, with no qualities and textures of this physical reality, because this, as mentioned above, is divine energy coming from beyond space and time (space and time is created by the movement of matter, is created by our mundane thought to fit our corporeal lives here); however, this is highly conscious and dynamic energy which is inside each cell of our bodies, each nerve, and all around us making the rich and creative substance of universes themselves, and so this means that we have to interact with it all the time to bring this raw energy into the material world and in this way design what we would like to see and experience every single day–i.e. more patience and care in relationships, money and prosperity, motivation and intention to succeed in helping and accepting others, more talents to further our own advancement in life, etc. etc.

Imagination is the moving forward of all beauty and truth through the interaction of our minds in creating peace and prosperity, love and motivation; but, this is deep understanding of the Higher Mind now, it must have our honest and dedicated effort to bring it into our lives as we wish constantly, and the issue we have to always be aware of is that we are always creating and desiring, whether we want to or not, consciously or subconsciously.

So in order to build manifestations centered in good relationships, a better financial status, greater motivation to succeed, higher visions of what you must do to better yourself, make sure your heartfelt desires and higher perspectives about yourself, others and the world around you, stay away from the deceits of your ego before you create using the greater energy of imagination.

Tags creative writing, Freedom, Heartfelt, Higher purpose, meditation, Mind, Mind power, motivation, psychology, Self, self-help, spirituality, Thoughts, Wisdom