Inspiration - The River of Infinite Love

Over the last few days, I've been drawn into contemplating a new perspective on the long dark night of the soul. In search of some reasonable perspectives on the rapid (sometimes painful) and seemingly endless spiritual awakenings of our times, my mind wanders optimistically through a landscape in which great pain always leads to a greater depth of spiritual awareness, compassion and connection with The Divine. Buddhists might refer to this phenomenon as "turning poison into medicine". Oh yes, every healer knows it. Everyone who shines brightly understands the grit that makes the pearl - the pressure that creates the diamond.

Yet, how do we speak of this pain, in these times of positive thinking and 'can do'/'go to'/law-of-attraction-fuelled sunshine and lollipops philosophies, without being considered to be making a virtue of suffering? My guide, Peter, answers with his characteristically generous, ever-loving and endlessly patient tenderness.

"You don't concern yourself with this. You simply speak your truth for those who will hear it and be comforted."

Every artist or mystic knows that sometimes great works of transcendent beauty and depth are the positive by-product of unbearable pain. Pain that was not meant to be borne. Pain that was always meant to be transmuted into something sublime when the bearer could find no other outlet for it. No other source of comfort than 'the everlasting arm', when the back against the wall suddenly sprouts wings and learns how to fly up to Heaven. 

This morning I, once again, hesitated to share these words, for fear of misunderstanding. I then felt myself being slowly drawn into the worlds of Billie Holiday and Charlie Parker, as my guides encouraged me listen to some good music and study their stories again - not as a lifestyle guide but as a reminder of something real and infinitely more eternal than life itself. Well, after a long and delicious detour down YouTube avenue, via 52nd Street (when there were so many other things I "should" be doing with my time) I was reminded by the lives of two of my all-time favourite inspirers that beautiful roses grow even in the stoniest ground and white gardenias cannot be tainted by blood, sweat or tears.

There's comfort to be found in the chaos; there's inspiration hiding in the cracks. Yet, these are the days when a deep and abiding connection with the Divine is discovered far more easily through meditation than by medication. The purest and truest sources of artistic expression are all around us in the form of a multitude of guides and angelic inspirers, if we could only learn how to hear their precious utterances.

How the heck does one describe the experience of receiving these beautiful inspirations and flirting constantly with a gradual merging with God?

Here's my brave attempt.

This poem is for all the beautiful writers, poets, artists, musicians, healers and mystics I am so very blessed to know in this lifetime. Channels of Divine creativity and love, I know what you have given, even when all we see are the results - those timely and much deserved 'overnight success' stories. Even when you have nothing left but those unheard and unfinished symphonies that call to you and tug on your sleeves in the dead of the long dark night, in spite of your daily duties, I see you.

Thank you for the beautiful medicine you have made for the world by transmuting the poison of your pain. Thank Heaven for you! Your time is now. The world is ready for something beautiful.

 Inspiration

Hungry for Heaven,

I struggle to describe its truth

Painting pictures with words -

Holograms from my mind -

I bring forth fruits

Longing to hear its music,

I curl into a tune of my own

and offer it up for open ears

And here I go

Searching for love on the dark planet

Endlessly seeking

Angels in clouds

Jesus in shrouds

 Screaming out loud

"I surrender"

I fall in with the sound

 Knowing that

With every drop of be bop

Every comma, colon, full stop

Every waft of heartache

Drum break, remake

I am travelling lighter..

Four to the bar

Leaning in closer

To the endless song

And every ignorance spurs me, gently,

Consequently on.

To deep restoration?

Soul celebration?

Oh, sweet inspiration,

Beyond satiation

Rejection strengthens my complexion

Nothing grates

Nor penetrates

Bemusement waits

In some transcendent state

As if by chance

It draws me in

This incidental reckoning

These God-kissed vapours

Glistening..

I fall, obediently, in

Tumbling deeper ..

Slipping now,

these soporific drips,

into The River of You...