A flower blooms, dries to fall off or falls to dry at time in place for a given moment. It lives then dies. It blossoms or prematurely drops.
Some flowers are admired, some are not even noticed. Some are vibrantly coloured, some are dead dull. Some are meticulous, some are straightly simple. Some produce edible fruits, some the poisonous.
It’s about flower, the beauty in itself, although most view points perceive the look differently. Absolute beauty sits where it is, lingering forever as values and concepts. Relative beauty fades away through aging, some even without being remembered as memory or history.
It’s about flower, the one in a palace and that in a lawn.
Her life, Beloved, Perfectly-directed film Ready for Oscars—
She sometimes forgets that life is a performed script in which she is casted to act out a given role the best she can. She should follow the director’s direction and directive.
What about spectators? She should ignore spectators. Spectators are stars whose job is to see and comment on the film. And they pay for what they see and comment. The payment goes to the stars!
So, dear Star. Fix your moves. Better your expression. Tag your ears with the melody. Live in harmony, with your own self like JavaneseBedhaya performers who are meditatively drowned in the sacred composition.
Good heart, Beloved, What blossoms her life. Always. Bright light in the dark—
Human being with good heart looks weak. Yes. Not always though
Human being with good heart looks stupid. Yes. Not always though
Human being with good heart looks naive. Yes. Not always though
Human being with good heart looks vulnerable. Yes. Not always though
With all those, she’s still seeking all ways to shape a good heart. Failure. Pain. Sadness. Vulnerability. Anger. Disappointment. All those are nothing but chisels sculpting the best figure in the right place at the right time.
Thanks for sending me all those human beings with good heart along this journey.
Dogma, Beloved, The least she can hold in life. She is full of quests.
What human beings should think of being sick is it is a tool materialised by Life to make them stop or at least slow down especially from analysing every single thing. Yet human beings often forget that blessing should not be always gift-wrapped in fancy paper with ribbons; it might be sometimes humbly bundled in a sack.
Blimey! Why do I have so many sacks? And poorly unable to untie them successfully 😎
Magic, Beloved, Not just spells. It’s click and twist Within time and space.
I thought magic was a split second materialisation of what were wished. Years ago I believed that The Most Powerful would make things in just a blink of an eye. With millions of disclosure and exposure, magical things have become something natural. Everything can be interpreted as miracle as much as it can be considered ordinary.
Magic is a mechanisation in the universe in which processes and timelines cannot be denied. Sooner or later….
What’s prime number, Love? Itself and one can divide. Most intimate love—
It’s just me and the one.
The one that I’ve always missed with no reason. The one that I’ve perceived but not perceivable. The one that I’ve missed and travelled for but nowhere to find. The one that I’ve felt so intimate but so distant. The one that I’ve cried for but making me smile. The one that I’ve been peaceful with but breaking my heart.
You’re a prime number, Self, one that is greater than one and can only be divided by one and itself. The rest is excluded.
I never want to hurt myself, I just didn’t know who you are. I got hurt by a cactus in a desert Who pricks little fingers, Who just want to touch this life softly, Not hurting, not taking anything away.
Wounded, I decided to blame stupidity: Why did I have to have to have to have to have to just touch cacti? I should have left that arid land long before I touched a prickly spirit.
A delayed regret is less important than a lesson learned but it always gives a story the most significant pivot.
Now I’ll just admire from here From where I stand With millions of prayers For a secret journey. Yet I know you are a ghost days and nights.
Someday when I pour down the rain, You’ll know. Love is as sweet as water in drought— Maybe— If it is not late....
Slowing down footsteps
Pace along an ancient route.
Trace back your soul path.
Thought sometimes gets puzzled why thing happens to the Self, while logically she has made best possible efforts to control it not to emerge into events. At times emotions pour like heavy rain or they numb all nerves.
Then the Self realises that all is about tracing back the soul path: paying one’s karma, optimising one’s dharma.
You’d better pass major lessons in the current life. You shouldn’t want to fail the same lessons: acting lame or repeatedly meeting lame spirits wrapped in different physical planes, or both at the same time.
If it is not done,
Don’t let me slip from Your hands.
Chisholme Institute Scotland – September 16, 2019 / 20:42
Last week was one detail of life that might change the whole journey of mine. It has woken up a corner in the Soul that probably has been asleep or half asleep for so long. The material, the discussion, the social interaction, the spiritual connection, the away from home — all those are best combined to drive an enlightenment. What a word! Yes, one big leap a man should acknowledge.
I noted a lot of things happening inside of me. Let me keep them in my heart as part of the Hidden Treasure that is ready to explode into a realm of creation. In my very life. Be!
Among lessons harvested from the course is sincerity.
When it happened, it happened. Why not letting go?
When I know it will happen, it will happen. Why not accepting it?
When it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t. Why not moving on?
The why-nots that can only be materialised with sincerity—
Not all that I want is fulfilled.
Not all that I need is provided – yet all that is provided is what I need.
What I have is what I accept with heart and soul.
What is here now is what I embrace. What is not doesn’t bother me.
Senses become more sensitive, yet the stimuli become more subtle. That’s my next milestone to gain accuracy in intricacy.
Two keys in a chain–
One’s for Soul and one’s for Heart. Merlin, please guide me.
Jalan Imbi KL, MY – August 28, 2019 / 21:22
Can’t wait for my holiday retreat around my birthday, when my head will be loaded with different types of reading from what I normally enjoy on normal days, when my heart will be loaded with contemplation without drama with those people, when all is between breeze and silence.
Dear Work, don’t worry. It will be just for a while. I’ll be back for you….
Much a do ’bout it
Ripples in a pool have brought
A Star. Guide me please.
I might not involve emotions in my devotion but I mean it. Never ask me to love you coz I don’t. Never force me to long for you coz I don’t. My realm is so much different from yours. Mine is far under the bottomless abyss, yours might be in heaven. Leave me coz I don’t have a promise.
What you can capture with the eyes are those reflecting the light. The intensity of the Light affect the clarity of the object reflected to the lenses inside of your head.
But what is that object? That depends on what you have been informed through your experience from time to time. The longer the time, the more extensive the description of the object will be. The more frequent the object is scrutinised, the more comprehensive the description will be.
And if you are exchanging with more directions of sources, the object has become not only a description of what the Light has reflected to the lenses inside of our head but you will find that the object becomes a plane to define something else. It has turned into a symbol defining a meaning. The more expressive the symbol is defined, the deeper you search into yourself. And deeper deeper deeper to the abyssal ocean of inner knowledge. From your eyes to your head to your mind to your heart to your bottomless self….
It is where you’ll find the meaning of the meaning of the meaning of the meaning of the meaning of the meaning of the meaning……..of what reflected to the lenses inside of your head.
Layers of meaning is layers of Lights.
Light on light on light on light on light on light….