Tag: story

Interview With The Alchemist.

Post author By thegodwithinblog
Post date July 4, 2017
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…Did you ever love me…?? Do you love me now…?? Of course you do; you were always there for me, I just did not realize it at the time… too self-involved… too busy obeying the demands of the lower beast dwelling in me. But I wonder if you knew. Or if I knew. But I’m sure I did; I mean I was there, experiencing, living my own sudden reactions of hate and love. Alchemy was hidden, wasn’t it…?? And love sounded prissy, maybe weak, even overrated perhaps… It just wasn’t enough for me, and it was not the main discussion among my “friends” either; no, it was all about the latest tech app and Hollywood movie out there, the pitiful game of immature relationships and the greed for money. No, it was in me, this higher alchemy, this higher love and understanding of myself, of others, and of life, but I chose to ignore it and put a concrete wall between us, shielding me from… from me really… from the Higher me…

Ha– It’s funny, really odd as well, like I was here before, like I had the same train of thought before; so, get this, as I sit here thinking about this a kind of déjà vu seems to overwhelm each cell of my being, veiled and still unclear past memories keep sort of flooding me, making me feel… I don’t know… intense, full of understanding, powerful in a way, almost like I can fly… But I never flown before, I was confined to the lower perception of myself, and quite disrespectful of myself, distant from the true self-acceptance and confidence radiating through me now. Yes, I was blind back then, I wouldn’t see people and accept people, see myself and accept myself; I would only see and experience the illusion of the everyday nuisance, these false identities and values in the popularity and wealth from TV celebrities, the lies of politics, the robotic activities of a zombie society, and my own interpretation of love and that misguided interpretation the world has of it.

It was knowledge of the Higher Intelligence flowing through me. The Great Eternal Mind! They call it that in our fields of Mental Science, in the Alchemical Labs of the mind of the Higher-Thinking Man… Yes, absolutely, gnosis did it. The knowledge increased the understanding within me and pushed wisdom where I could experience it, where my monkey thoughts would be silenced and put aside so I could open my eyes to what I couldn’t see before.

…But, wait, why didn’t you leave me…?? Why did you stick around…?? You could have left, because I neglected you for more than three decades and I even buried you under dark thoughts of lust and anger and under behaviors of ignorance and disdain for myself and others. …Love again, wasn’t it? But–But is more than just love what we share, it is the true Essence of Creation itself, it is the original formula of self-transformation, like a constant experience of bliss, and not just the emotional roller coaster of pleasure of human love… And my family, my friends, people I know, are not there yet; they see me a little askew, cannot process this whole transformation, this deeper understanding of the invisible which has awakened within me, and the fact is they may never get there, they may never experience this bliss, this higher awareness which makes all depression and irrelevance in the world melt away… It is the tough truth of the universe, you taught me that. “The lips of wisdom are closed, except to the ears of understanding”–as it goes.

But my love for them has grown even stronger now, because I understand all they think and experience, all their reactions and beliefs, at a deeper level. It is like that time I got stuck for a while on the top of the fair ride, where the roller coaster cart held me really high and I could see the whole fair park from this elevation–the people walking around eating greedily their cotton candies looked so tiny in the crowd, following the path taken by others and absorbed in the pleasures of the day, looking up at me and wondering why I was there and why I wasn’t with them. Clouds above, blue sky around me, cool breeze of altitude caressing me and my new thoughts. I was closer to heaven back then, but did not know it. But now I do.

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Tags Art of love, Entertainment, Life, Love, story, Thoughts

Stories to ponder.

Hell on Earth!

…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

Self-help life truths.

Driven (1-min. read)

“I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.” ~ Nelson Mandela; former President of South Africa, anti-apartheid revolutionary, politician, and philanthropist.

When I was living in Texas and my father died my whole world crumbled to pieces, I was truly devastated, because I had spent serious amounts of time with him and we had been really close. He died suddenly from pancreatitis (inflammation of the pancreas) after a few days in the hospital; he never knew his condition, we did not know either, but it grew within him like cancer. After he died, I became depressed and lonely, I cried for days and did not feel the energy to do anything; this man which was noble and a perfect role model for me had now left me alone with my immaturity, fears, and in a country which was immensely different from Argentina.

After a while of sobbing and feeling sorry for myself, light shone upon me from somewhere within me and I knew what I had to do right then and there; I knew then that I had to choose between wallowing in my own pathetic tears of self-pity, or face the world like the lion faces the jungle without fear and with a mighty heart of conquest. And it took me time after various trials after that, after working and jumping from job to job, and after dealing with my loss and fighting life beside my family, but I finally understood that which is already in our hearts but whispers and is really difficult to hear with all the pitiful cries and garbage spewed by the monkey mind and the fears it brings to us. Yes, I understood that I had this unstoppable energy, this drive flooding each cell in my body and flowing down the river of my bloodstream, and all this strength of mind which said to keep going, relentlessly, powerfully, faithfully against the mediocrity and bullshit of the world around me.

See, in God’s nature the lion roars and everybody becomes silent and still. In God’s nature, the lion walks and everybody gets out of its way. In God’s nature, the lion roars and the weaker animals cower in its very presence. In God’s nature, the lion emanates respect and authority, and the others know it, they feel it.

In the weak and artificial nature man has created, there is no lion, only sheep; however, the illusion is that being like the rest of the sheep is the popular thing, therefore the normal, strong, and natural thing, as in the godly thing. Love is all! Love all around! Yay!– Angels and bullshit from Heaven. Religions, of course, do not preach otherwise; they say the same, just read the Bible, pray, follow others, be kind, of good heart, and that’s it. And yet, people still die from depression wallowing in loss and fear, people still underfoot and living in poverty, people still cry and live in the past over and over and over again never believing in this energy inside them.

God’s nature is the lion and not the sheep. Through my own experience I have learned that we are here on this earth to thrive and get ahead, to fulfill our great destinies which we create with heartfelt decisions, to be more than just mediocre machines working to pay the bills and getting married and procreating. Love and being kind in your journey is something to live every single day, something noble as the noble predators, godly and powerful creatures we are; however, that WILL NOT get you to great success, to fulfill your higher purpose (the reason why you have a body and a mind). Leadership means being strong and not just kind and loving, thus leadership will create you into the real lion living in God’s nature–i.e. the true nature inside your cellular make-up, flowing and being bright within you, ready to make a transfiguration of the weaker you into the stronger, driven you. Unstoppable and powerful, that is what you are; but, obviously, like I did, you need to choose a higher mind and to work hard at being stronger every day, committed.

Stop expecting your life to be made better only by your faith and by your good heart; having faith and heart is good and noble, but you need to take care of yourself, use and manage your energies from within you to become a lion and be driven, truly unstoppable in a world full of mediocre sheep whose higher purpose is to pay their bills, get married and procreate–i.e work for food, shelter, and mating, just like the lower animals in nature.

Tags Fearless, Freedom, Higher mind, Higher purpose, motivation, story, Thoughts, Unstoppable

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

Stories to ponder.

Against the forces of evil (1-min. read)

Post author By thegodwithinblog
Post date June 11, 2017
No Comments on Against the forces of evil (1-min. read)

This is my personal story:

One rainy night my parents and I were coming back home, when a heavily drunk asshole hit our Peugeot (that’s a car, for you Americans who do not know) and sent us all to the near Mar Del Plata’s main hospital (Mar Del Plata, Argentina, where I was born and raised). I had been injured pretty badly, and actually much more than my parents; the ambulance couldn’t revive me as I was in a deep unconscious state, losing blood and seizing every five minutes. Once there, the hospital team did everything they could to bring me back to life, but it was too late, for I was dead, gone from this physical plane.

Several minutes later, I don’t know how or why (I just know that nothing that happens is random, all has a purpose in life–even when we don’t understand what’s happening) but I returned to life, and greatly changed (not just in physical function but in other aspects as well). Now, I won’t tell you that while dead or unconscious without pulse I saw some brilliant light or angels or pearly gates swung open or anything like that. Let your imagination fly–there is not enough use of good imagination now-a-days.

After that, to make it shorter, I acquired certain talents or “conscious endowments”. And in the course of many months, I encountered great abilities head-on (granted they weren’t strong yet, but in firm transition or conscious evolution). My parents, of course, weren’t told anything because they would not have understood (you know, religious parents, or “normal-by-this-society” parents). And at the same time, I needed more time for myself and “to find me”. Put it simply, I wanted a job where I could meet great experiences, develop great wisdom in those extraordinary lessons from life itself, so I went in search for one. So, after months of search for the right one for me, Mr. Hernandez—a Psychic Investigator and a nice man—gave me the opportunity to earn some cash (some pesos), and I joined his ‘Mar Del Paranormal’ agency as an apprentice.

Adapting was hard, specially having in mind the countless nights of sleep deprivation, sweating, and also the internal transfiguration that my physical body went through during the days and nights. I felt wretched at times, and at times I felt wonderful; however, I see now that it was not just my inner transmutation that made me feel like that, going through various moods, pains and states of emotion, but also it was my adjusting to the “especial condition”of my job and its high levels of “spiritual” environment. A lot of energy flowing inside me, I could experience my own consciousness dynamically changing and I was too becoming more in tune with the collective consciousness grid of humankind; all this knowledge and special talents, my intelligence (intellectual and emotional) was certainly growing and I possessed a different, deeper understanding of life, for I could see and sense things that the common individual couldn’t, angels but I could also see demons (and, believe me, they can be anywhere among us, and even now you may have one by your side).

I was indeed becoming faster than I had ever been, jumped higher, with inwardly use of another sight into parallel dimensions, and, well, I was certainly sure I could do much more–just needed to figure out how. Needed to be patient, too; but, as you can imagine, fifteen-year old kids are not too patient (almost sixteen though; big difference, right?). But, I have to say, I always had a good relationship with my parents and was a good receptor to their examples of behavior; so, my strong character counted with profound insight based on my parents’ wealthy teachings, and I owned a rather resolute and cautious demeanor in my personal life endeavors, and, obviously, this helped to cope with further psychological and spiritual developments in my youth.

The following weeks of recuperation were horrible, because I was plagued by nightmares of unknown people dying which seemed awfully real, and a plethora of natural catastrophes, and a super-odd premonition about my own father dying in some strange land I did not recognize–all signs of my own apocalypse coming to fruition, a renaissance or rebirth of my consciousness.

I had slowly accepted my role as a higher-conscious entity in constant development and had also learned to make the best of it. So, over the course of the next year, Mr. Hernandez aided me in understanding my transformation further–he was indeed a very emotionally intelligent psychic with many outstanding qualities, awards, and mystical experiences–and in how to embrace my evolving powers, and so make my multi-dimensional transition more natural for me. How to hide my true persona when mixing with others in high school, how to control my powerful mind, how to manage my insatiable hunger for learning (since I was extremely curious and also always searching for wisdom in books)–all this was well taught to me under his watchful eye. And in time I stopped being a kid and matured a lot, and became, too, a true higher entity to help those in real danger from the creatures of the night and the darkness. All this training to prepare for the end of days as we know it: ‘The presidency of one Mr. Donald Trump!’

Tags Business, creative writing, Entertainment, fiction, fun, life truth, story, unique, warrior, Writing