A lesson of creation…

My imagination a clean pane of thick glass,

a clean canvas.

Both awaiting destruction.

It starts with a thought, a spark ignites.

With the right intention the spark will drive the thought to impact.

If both the thought and intention behind it are strong enough, the glass will crack

causing it to spiderweb,

opening my imagination to new cracks leading to new ideas.

Each brush stroke leads to the next, filling out the canvas.

Slowly building the image stroke by stroke.

Never to be a clean canvas again.

Never again to be a clean pane of glass.


I cannot help but think of the irony – the price for the creation is a destruction.

There is beauty in that destruction.

Perhaps a subliminal lesson in duality?

Is there perhaps a price for creating – a give and take?

Perhaps there is a duality in everything,

but for a duality to exist balance must be achieved.

Finding that balance is in itself an art.

It dwells in the shadows

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The day slowly dims, the source that once illuminated the busy streets is now casting longer shadows every minute. As the light wanes so too does the ambiance. Twilight takes a brief residency, enough to see thinned out numbers as the source reclines behind the mountain. The night has taken shift and has successfully turned shade into shadow. The bustle has ended and has been reduced to a faint murmur, as you leave the security of home.

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The air is so quiet that you hear only your stride. Everything is the same but at the same time so different. The shade that once offered shelter at day has shifted its character. It is no longer a protector; but stalker. The darkness is thick and any movement draws your eyes attention. It is almost as if it breathes and lives. It slowly creeps and harbors on your periphery, shifting its shape to comfortably suit your fears. You look for it with wondering eyes, but see nothing. Every sound amplifies your fear, feeding what dwells in the shadow.

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It is kept in the shadows so you cannot see and thus cannot learn. It is forever shifting its shape wearing a cloak of unfamiliarity. It moves so you cannot see it, only sense it. It waits for you to become comfortable with its unfamiliarity until you brush it off as imagination.

Whatever life breathed sound into the street is now dead, with the exception of your stride – you stop in your tracks. It is a deafening silence. The shadow has grown immense and intense. So black is the shadow that it swallows sound and light, leaving you alone in unfamiliarity.

It is just the dark you tell yourself. Nothing to fear but your imagination. You take in a breath and continue to walk with a new confidence. You walk down the darkened street, a little more comfortable with the darkened unfamiliarity and with imagination as an excuse, you sweep the shadows from your attention.

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In the back of your mind the imagination continues to work, bubbling over causing the hair on your heck to stand. You feel a warm breath of wind over the hairs on your neck and pause your stride. The trees are silent, for no breath stirs their leaves. Your pulse quickens so that all you hear in the deafening silence is the blood pumping through your head. The shadows are still with no signs of movement. You hear the dry crack of a leaf. You feel your heart drop and your blood turn cold as you feel the grasp of a hand on your shoulder and before you can make any reaction you feel your body being pulled. You make no sound as the shadows swallow both sound and light.

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The street lay in silence. Dead silence – swallowed by what dwells in the shadow…

A thought on synchromysticism, expression and projection

Lately I have been doing a fair amount of writing and reading, which has led to much thinking. The other day I had a thought about entertainment, and how each movie, song or book (whether fictional or not) is an expression of the subject, which begins as inspiration either by external stimuli, or a thought/idea. I then started thinking about synchromysticism, which is, according to Wiktionary is:

The drawing of connections in modern culture (movies, music lyrics, historical happenings and esotericknowledge); and finding connections that could be coming from the “collectiveunconsciousmind“; and finding connections between occult knowledge (i.e. esotericfraternitiescults and secretrituals), politics and mass media.

Is it possible to read into the mass expressions of various people and cultures, their art, movies, etc and draw some conclusion on what is happening in our reality? This is of course a pretty big hypothetical, but just entertain my thought for a few minutes…

I’m sure you will all agree with me that there are basic principles, or laws of existence for anything to exist, for example, for every action there is a reaction. A basic principle. The content of the majority of movies, series, books, all abide to logic, that is to say they are not random images and audio spliced together. The plot of the story may be fictional, but the characters and the plot all take place in a logical way, as opposed to a movie being completely random, or nonsensical. If there are enough of these  expressive slices of logic from a wide, multitude of subjects, other than yours, then could it be possible to deduct a greater picture of reality?

Or perhaps another question we should ask ourselves is, what is and where does inspiration and imagination come from, or where does it exist? I have read articles by scientists who cannot definitely pinpoint where memory is kept, some even suggesting that it is outside of the brain. Is memory, imagination and inspiration (apart from external inspiration due to stimuli) all in our brain chemistry or is there credibility to an Akashic records? The Akashic records is term used in Theosophy and Anthroposophy to describe a non-physical plane of existence, where it is said that ALL knowledge of the cosmos, human existence and history are all contained, and is possible to interact with. This concept was popularized in theosophical movement of the 19th century and is actually derived from Hindu philosophy of Samkhya.

Could this be where we draw ideas and inspiration from? Could our global, collective expression simply be a projection of this non-physical plane of existence? What really made me think about it was something I read while I was researching about the ego, and I came across a piece of writing which spoke about ego and spirituality. The author (whose name completely escapes me) described an analogy of what spirit and of what God possibly is. They described spirit as the ocean and our individual living experience as the different waves, all part of the greater ocean, but made of individual experiences. Thus God would be our collective experience. If our art and expression is a slice of experience, would it be ridiculous to think that one can obtain a greater picture of our existence here on earth?

This is just a thought I desperately wanted to write down and get off my chest. It is an interesting subject I believe it is worth the thought…