Canon in D- Touched by The Force

Canon in D- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qVn2YGvIv0w

 

Touched by The Force ~

 

{Author's Note: I think that people are generally touched by the same experiences- but they never really give them a label. What if they were touched by something, and realized what it was- what if they realized they weren't afraid to fall? Or what if they found that blue blood was, contrary to what they'd always been told- actually green? What if they learned to extend beyond the matrix of how they had been raised, and realized that they were someone else than who they thought? I call this the force . . . something that we feel but we cannot name. Inspired by the above piece (and perhaps some holistic healing methods).}

. . .

This piece is magnetic. It offers up small glimpses of eternity. I could listen to this symphony fifty times over, and never run out at the end. It revolves through time like an encircling arc of light, lifts me through the stretch of space about me. I am passing through several different matrices as I hear this, living through a dream of the past- it embraces all of my lives-my past, present, and future all in one. If I believed in Nirvana, I think it would be my enlightenment. Each rendition strikes a new chord- and yet it is always the same one. I feel as though I am looking at several mirrors, in a stretch of midnight-blue. Some part of me reaches forward, an image that I cannot reflect in the dark- but it still lives. It is a bit frightening, really . . . like a second being I never knew I had, coming into the light, struggling against a sea of darkness.

 

Does this idea frighten you? Perhaps we can call it enlightenment. Alternatively, perhaps it is only a figment of the imagination, or if you like- a different way of thought. Perhaps the spiritual thinkers are correct: it is God reaching down to us through his hand, or maybe it resembles Nirvana . . . no matter how you view it, nothing can change its essence. There is an element in it, a magic, if you will, that mankind does not understand. It is the internal human struggling to cope with existence, to learn how to evolve to a greater being- to climb out of the intellectual abyss in which are we rut, and to reach something else . . . something wonderful. Something we do not understand. This is the human mind at its finest. This is moving out from the sectioned matrix; this is the force.

 

 

 

A Poet's Clippets ~

Dashing between a melee of different work dynamics. I've learned to take my lessons in stride at this moment; I know now 'application,' is worth its weight in gold, and I know- quite literally, lessons are not just the scholar's choice pick. It seems that my class lessons have become tangible things- my writer's life is a spectrum of different characters, styles, and personalities. Eight hours of technical, five hours creative, and then some things that cannot be categorized . . . O, but poetry, where art thou! How I miss your touches, your brightness- can you not light my path again this night!

Serendipity- Crafting Your Fate Through a Practical Vision

Serendipity- Crafting Your Fate Through Practical Vision

There seems to be a paradox of work within our society about success. People seem to be obstructed by the idea that there is a fate, a kind of serendipity perhaps, which awaits them over the next exam. They seem to be sitting on chairs behind low, shadowed desks in their occupations, waiting for that next call to come in- literally, it may be the case- which will announce their new world. They have created their own fairytale, their own Pocahontas within their minds, one that is an imaginary place. The sporadic mystery of their personal film will overtake them as they near that special ending. Even though this ending is unplanned, if a fellow friend or comrade happens upon them, and asks about their life’s dreams, they give vague descriptions. ‘Well, I would like to end up in New York. . . ’

The problem which many people do not realize they have, is that the term ‘chance’ only within fairytales. The beautiful, ethereal image that one might see on the television has become the epitome of their own vision, their own lives- for some, it is impossible to think beyond that realm. However, with all the set of the beauty and romance that is harbored within our breasts, there is a new life that awaits us. It is elsewhere- it is beyond that scope of imaginary thought, and in the heart of the work basking, waiting, on our present desk.

. . .

The view that we do not see is that there is more potential for our dreams in the facts that are before us. Our fates do not wait within a phone call or an act of chance. Yet, still and all, there is only one real difference that lies between us and our own fairytale-

 

For movie’s sake, fairytales tend to skip over a few main ideas. I like to think of fairytales as an essay that is not complete, for it is missing some key ideas. The makers of Pocahontas never stopped to wonder how she learned to speak to Grandmother Willow- she just did it. I personally feel as though there was some miscommunication on the part of the filmmakers when they created these scenes. Medicine bark is actually a very complex and culturally rich part of the American culture, after all. Her deep relationship with special trees could not have manifested itself by night- it was a long and elaborate process!

If we write out our dreams in a way that is complete, it will be easier to understand how to arrive at them. The documents which we must translate before us, the essays which we must complete, or the college applications- must all suit part of a major plan. Scholarships are not handed over through one opportunity, but rather multiple applications, and strenuous effort. An employer will not just call us for an interview, after we fill out that one, rare and unique application- we don’t miss our chance when we don’t get it. Life is composed of hundreds upon millions of chances. One or two of them occur to us in a decade. And, after this, hundreds more are sought, and only one or two delivered, and then another two, and then three or four more- until, at the end of several laborious decades, we might finally, after years of toil and labor, arrive at our dream job . . .

But, the point to all this is, that you don’t become a famous artist over night. No matter what you do, you have to use steps, and write the proper essay of dreams. Chances will not appear if you skip the essential components, and fate is created with our own hands. Is it a difficult effort? Indefinitely it is, but I always felt, for myself at least, that life was much more interesting when I created my own chance. ‘Serendipity’ is not any less authentic because God does not hand it down to us- but more authentic, because we work alongside him to create it. How grand it is to have that ability! Weaving a fairytale all our own through the practical matter at hand- quite literally, in fact.

And it makes paperwork much more attractive ~

January 17, 2014 ~

I don’t know what it is, or what causes it . . . but at night, my inspiration seems to come alive. There is something beautiful about that one, unique moment in which it comes, like a gem shining in the darkness that comes unannounced in the night. It causes me to turn the lights off . . . it is completely unfathomable and undefined. It is an ethereal spirit that lights a spark in me in the dark. It is one that I cannot describe but one as precious as the light, comforting, indescribable spirit of an angel. It is the soul and heart of life.