Spiralling lights

Man changes and uses his ideologies to either explain his inaction or action. From time to time different explanations arise. Once it was Hell and the Spanish Inquisition, then it was the hunt for Nazi war criminals, now it is the factions for or against The New World Order.

Nothing changes in this respect. Human beings will define factions and definitions and vortexes of the mind, simplified ideologies and utopias to live and die for. All the while Life moves on in a spiralling fashion, at enormous speed.

We feel sometimes that time moves slowly when compared to our own egotistical wishes and dreams but as our own personal destinies move forward we realize that the speed of time is relative at best.

The more we understand our animal nature, our soul development and spiritual insight we realize how little we mature in each century. As we learn this we begin to see that our collective maturity can only be evaluated on the altar of Aeons. It took humanity two millenniums to begin to understand the values of the christ much less to apply them on a global level. Therefore God makes sure we get appropriate spiritual food at appropriate time.

People like to put God into boxes and books.

If the word of God could be changed by mere Human beings, why do they die? I know God is, was and is to come, to him time is not relative at all for he transcends his own creation and consequently observes clearly where his child – human kind – is when asked for it’s maturity, insight or the nature of its creativity.

Technology, ideas, fashions, religions are Void without him for he can only be known through his values. We so often get caught up in our emotions when discussing and evaluating values that we forget to delve into their roots, or their long time values; in essence we don’t always realize the nature of our values.

The thinkers are often the sad ones, for it is common that those who seek God – or the nature of his values – need to go through hard times and often spiritual torture in order to find the answers they seek. More often than not they find a place in the center of the storm of ideas, the void where no idea exists, only a sense of nothing which connects all ideas simultaneously.

This concept is impossible to explain or conceptualize but once you’re there you feel that you understand the nature of values, the essence of understanding, and the folly of humanity; but your voice is drowned out in the storm except for some who have begun to seek what you once were looking for but their egos stand firmly on their ears holding their eyes.

Therefore into the eye of the ideological storm enters the wet substance of emotion, often tangled into a web of conflict between past and present. Then you try to shout, then you whisper, then you realize new insight, then you need to correct yourself, and you move on, spiralling either up or down as the storm moves on, with its silent center.

All this should not make you stay silent or to develop an attitude when someone doesn’t hear or listen; for the whole Universe is in constant motion and every living whisper of light, idea or concept, communicates with the next whisper.

We must be driven to actively writing, drawing, showing, teaching, anywhere we can. We don’t need to be loud, but persistent with what we believe, and courageous to reshape it.

Discussing, selfeducating, selfcorrecting, quarrelling, communicating, celebrating when possible, as we move on. We grow and we learn; nothing is ever a static constant. You are the candle in the dark.

Shine fearlessly and sometimes flickering and trust that there are those who will be drawn to the light. Asking you how you found the light-switch, asking you to turn on theirs, and you’ll try. Then you’ll realize that just as you turned on your own light, only the holder can turn on his. But the switch isn’t yours but a grace from God. Grace found in relentless pursuit for an answer.





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About Guy Ellis

Alchemist and a prophet of God, with passion for training dogs. Like a perfect poetry; Doesn't get any better than that.

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