Transmuting Thought from Pain to Tranquility We are Free

Watering our Garden of Compassion

Fall from atop the maple trees, wind in sails knocking out every breath, helplessly looking up at another broken sky. Floodgates watering spouts, nourishing life’s pain inflicted upon self-squirrelly forgotten playful songs.

Planted seeds of hope and tranquility growing between the stranglehold of weeded thoughts, battle of the gardener’s fever-toil in fertile grounds of possibility. Plucked one — a thousand more suffocating vines of death amidst the Great Mystery, laying them out as not to be forgotten, there for all to see upon the sleeves.

Uncle Bill, childhood friend’s gone-too-soon, the brick wall’s barricading life from seeing the light of day, smack of a Mack truck eighteen-wheeler running over our dreams and aspirations. Bare witness to the all, good, bad, and the ugly truth, survived yet another barrage and carnage of soul’s fleeting energy.

Enter the self, sacred space reserved for one, puffing on smoky Joe’s mysterious Cosmic Dance with alpha and omega — present in all the disfiguring faces foretold by the beholder of creative power handed down by the poets before. Breathe in quenching thirst, squelching forbidden memories whilst watering the hole in our heart.

Outwardly vines, vibrational pull, filling space for a new episode of life’s Great Mysteries. Open arms, reaching to heaven’s breath, magnetic polls attracting more of our greatest desires, all the while remembering the steps bringing into a present tense.

The golden globe is rising in the East, the daily promise of tomorrow’s bountiful cornucopia of reality spent in the present visionary animation that is true to self and collective well-being. Filling cup, watering canister in hand, a cleansing spirit of future generations, spreading love’s true home on pasture’s undertow of soul-filled strength and nonce within unconditional.

Henceforth, forever shall it be, wind-filled breathtaking songs flowing through the physical. Carrying sans fear-ridden hold of past and future’s untold stories, intoning planetary natural aligning thoughts, painting a brighter future, lighter and freer than the day before.

~Ani Po

Grief can be the garden of compassion. If you keep your heart open through everything, your pain can become the greatest ally in your life’s search for love and wisdom.~Rumi

There is a sense of non-attachment here. When we attach to material or nonmaterial, we open ourselves up for pain and suffering. Letting go of all expectations, we allow ourselves to move freely past a said unfortunate moment. Instead of suffering, we learn and grow from the present circumstances.

Setting intentions for the day, week, or even longer, our thoughts are set in motion for unlimited possibilities. Rejoice along the way, whether as expected or not so much. Through the process of setting intentions, we are painting a masterpiece upon the Canvas of Life.

Stepping into the Canvas painting with an open heart. We are here to create, observe, rejoice and repeat it all over. Sing and Dance, laugh and play, remaining in balance along the way.

Thank you J.D. Harms and all of the Scrittura family for sharing in this moment of time, lovely prompts and encouraging words.

Much gratitude for those who take time to read, ponder and allow the inner workings of self to come forward. Grateful for the feedback, love shared, and more importantly the Dance with Inspiration. Deep Peace.

Joseph Lieungh

Finding our Story Between History and Mystery

Discovered shift from colygraphia to mogigaphria

Whether we go through our day without blinking an eye or conscious of surrounding thoughts, actions, and interactions with others, there is a story unfolding. Liken to an heirloom confession bottled up for centuries — awaiting corks pop sounding echoing truths.

What is this story? Is it based on the history of old beliefs, or is the story being retold through eyes of mystery and awe? We believe in certain ways because we’ve been taught finite truths of what was once real. Gazing into Great Mystery, additional truths unfolding — Soft psychic psithurisms whispering our name, inviting us to dig deeper into the cosmic soul.

With wisdom at our past guiding us into either mundane or entrapped way of thinking, we remain stuck in the truth of spinning forever on a hamster wheel without any set destination — listless, dervish mind spinning relentlessly into oblivion.

However, with history as a teacher-spirit, we are guided into a world of mystery and ever-changing reality. Re-inventing truths daily, forging new pathways into the cosmos of understanding — this is our story.

Abandoned rivulets of life returning to source, ocean-side views, breathtaking muse, prevailing motif ever-spinning weaver’s web spooling golden thread. Reconnecting to source or returning to, envisage Ehyeh asher ehyeh.

Rock you like a hurricane, pandemic dinging in for round two, blazing wilds Westerly winds and bombings in the East — throw in astrological curve-balls, planetary aligning soliloquy — rhythmic vibrational frequencies consuming every being, August’s pulsating aura empathy resounding “are you feeling that?”

Our story of what was and what may be remains a mystery to omnipresent and infinite possibility, pulling the plug on tidal pools of mundanity. At our fingertips of reality, seeking higher ground or grounding of sorts, soaring into a world of mystery and awe — redefining our story — changing the course of history that is said to be unchangeable.

Now is the time of Lunar’s halo— a time of presence and awakening — we are here to change realities whilst changing the world. Within the now, our story, somewhere between history and mystery, we are unfolding possibilities — this is Our Story.

Somewhere between history and mystery remains our story.~Ani Po

From a creative prompt, inviting us to delve into the difference between colygraphia ‘writer’s block and mogigraphia ‘writer’s cramp,’ with everything in the between.

From a great void of existence, knowing of truths-be-told, to infinite possibilities leaving hand’s cramped detailing the course — twisting words, transmuting thoughts into peacefully interwoven mysteries of forbidden fruit.

Sitting idle, idol’s own-spoken truth, self-resounding vibratory birthing of 5d into the the third, we are the writer, author and creative source of All there Is.

Thank you Diana C. and all of the KTHT family for spinning the words, holding space, and encouraging others to speak their truths. Sacred is, as safety goes — shared collectively for the whole, growing together in our own third person singular. All my Love.

Much gratitude for those who take time to read, ponder and allow the inner workings of self to come forward. Grateful for the feedback, love shared, and more importantly the Dance with Inspiration. Deep Peace.

Joseph Lieungh