Heart Ripples

Interwoven

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 If I had a dollar for each moment of my life that I claimed finally to have it all figured out, I’d be a rich woman. However, all of my moments of enlightenment happened just before being humbled to my knees.

One thing I can say however is that each and every piece of the journey is connected to another piece. Each and every person who’s crossed my path is part of some interwoven magnum opus.

My life connects to yours, and yours to others, and others to strangers, and all of these people we do not know are the recipients and givers of the energy that we feel, use, and experience every day.

Beyond the experience of three dimensional perception and what your eyes can see, there’s a canvas being covered in shapes, colors, images, and feelings.

If you listen closely enough, you can hear the painters’ brush strokes. Sometimes they sound like music, sometimes like voices, and other times the brush screams and moans as oil and water, earth, wind, and fire spin into an orderly and chaotic toroidal field, manifesting as our everyday lives.

This living is nothing but art. The soul is the artist, and our energy is the paint.

A born idealist, I’ve struggled my entire life to mold myself into a perfect idea. Without end, I’ve toiled to shape the world around me to fit snugly into a pretty box, decorated with a neatly tied bow, so I can set it in the corner of my room and feel warm when I look at it.

If someone else were to make this observation about me, I’d contest and have all sorts of words to use to pontificate my freeness. That’s the thing about words. Sometimes we use them only to fit them into pretty boxes with neatly tied bows.

In this world of duality we’re inhabiting, we have all experienced the crumbling humility of defeat. Most of us have had one of those days when we felt like we gave or received more especially than ever before. We can all connect in the experience of seeking, desiring, longing, and reaching for some happier experience.

Some enlightened ones tell us that enlightenment is about simply being and being okay and happy with that. Sure, that’s one small perspective. The common misunderstanding is that enlightened being is devoid of raw feeling and intense emotion.

What about the soul who wants to push that paint brush boldly, madly, and blindly, just to feel what that’s like?

What about the artist who detests and rejects and simply cannot accept the world at large and needs to pour his guts and blood and juices onto the canvas in order to fully express himself?

Is it contemptible resourcefulness? …Using one’s own blood, sweat, and tears to convey a feeling?

Because often those feelings never make it to the canvas. Instead we stuff them into pretty boxes, with neatly tied bows, and hide them in our closets.

Once, I believed there was an ending – an ultimate. Anxious to prove ideals and pathways to enlightenment, I began each day expecting one final experience to serve as evidence of a completed journey.

What if there is nothing to prove?

What if ultimate happiness doesn’t exist because happiness by very nature is an increasing kind of thing, and we cannot fit Fibonacci into a pretty box with a neatly tied bow to observe from across the room?

One thing I can say…is that each and every piece of the journey is connected to another piece. Each and every person who’s crossed my path is part of some interwoven magnum opus.

My life connects to yours, and yours to others, and others to strangers, and all of these people we do not know are the recipients and givers of the energy that we feel, use, and experience every day.

I see your soul. I feel your energy. Keep painting.

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