Saturday, April 16, 2011

Guidance -- A midnights thoughts

How can the leaf sustain itself when everything else keeps it above the ground, flying in the air?

When the strong wind blows, whom can the leaf count on to hold firmly to the ground?

When the futures of uncertainty cloud the minds of the leaf, can it ever feel tranquility again?

When the magnanimous sun shines it's grace upon it, should the leaf despair in ever seeing it again?

When the majestic clouds form as shapes and towering figures and rain their sacks down to nourish the earth, should the leaf fear for life or look forward to a stronger future after the pouring struggles and strife?

When is the leaf independent of all around it?

How can the leaf thank it's branch for holding it firm, when the act of thanking leaves it in even more debt to it's sustainer?

From where can the leaf find the strength to help it's nourisher, when it's nourisher is self sufficient?

When the leaf is on it's knees, in tears from the generosity of it's masters and providers, how can it ever lift it's head after being given all these gifts?

When the struggles hit it, and nature itself seems poised to destroy it, after witnessing it's power, when does the leaf get the strength back to keep going and start fresh?

When the leaves around it pressure the first leaf to disregard it's mercies and gifts, through their own selfishness, pride, and ignorance, through what channel can the leaf complain and shine the truth?

O One who provides for us all, we hear you.

O unparalleled greatness that has no equal, heed this speck of a creation's words.

O grace of all that is good and that sheds it's light on all moments of sorrow and despair.

Heed this speck of a creations words.

Your ongoing mercy has flooded my heart with countless thoughts of the inequity I have treated you with.

Surely with each gift I turn more ungrateful and Surely with each hardship you show me ease.

With each patience of yours I grow more weary and impatient. With each magnanimous gesture of yours, I grow more severe and cold hearted.

As you hide my faults, I ignore your obvious gifts and take advantage of your limitless mercy.

Oh one deserving of all praise, forgive me of my lapses and transgressions.

From each moment I have forgotten you, you still turn towards me. With each breath I take, you sustain the life deep inside me.

When that life seems unbearable, you still bring about ease at the most miraculous of moments.

So oh Creator of all things, remember my words on the great day when all will be judged based on their deeds.

Oh sustainer, forgiver, nourisher, and Most Great, remember my words, even when I forget yours. Forgive my lapses, even when I deserve no such courtesy.

Spread good of me, even when I may be lazy in extending the same courtesy.

Oh Lord, cherisher, and most just.

Let me forgive others, as you constantly forgive me, so that one day, I may be worthy of your grace and praise.

Let me support others as you support me.

Let me not loose sight of my transient life.

Let me always remember you, from this day on, til when my lungs breathe their last breath.

Oh lord, If I should ever dare to think I am worthy or deserving of your countless blessings, then me I be awoken of my fantasy, face down, on the dirt, in complete submission to you.

Thank you, the countless thanks, that only pile up as I send them. For each thank you, oweing another, an overflowing debt that could never be dreamed to be payed back.

To the one that knows me best, takes care of me best, and treats me best. Thank you oh one worthy of all praise. Thank you Lord. Thank you oh sustainer and oh cherisher.

May my voice never stop praising you and your rightly guided leaders which you sent on earth to guide us aright.

I await the day of judgment; let me spend each day in praise and in constant forgiveness til then.

Oh one that never forgets and is still forgotten by the ungrateful.

Let me not be one of them and let me always follow the right path of your light and grace.

Oh one that inspires me, that is the true greatness which I claim to be, having stolen that right from the nourisher which is truly deserving of it.

Thank you and always keep me remembering your countless blessings.

Oh most Merciful and most worthy of Praise.

Forgive me and thank you. Should I be punished from now til the end of times, still you were not unjust with me for even a moment.

I deserve nothing and ask nothing, but simply that you accept my thanks and see me as your lowly servant, in constant need, and that you forgive me for my obvious weakness.

To the one that deserves all, may I one day deserve to call myself your true servant and true follower.

Oh Grace, oh Light, and Oh inspirer of all the hearts. Oh one filling our souls with blessings innumerable to count.

May my words never cease speaking of your greatness and obvious beauty. You are indeed worthy of all praise and all things you truly do control with a divine power.

My lord which has no equal, nothing brings you weariness, so please stay patient with me, of even that I am not worthy, yet you are infinitely able to give.

So give to me out of your infinite wealth, out of your mercy, magnanimity, and grace.

Thank you oh source of light, which guides all to the right path, regardless of how far we may have strayed.

Treat me with your Mercy oh greatness, for surely I would be most unfortunate to have to face your true Justice, of which no blessing of yours would I have ever been worthy of.

Keep me on your path, oh one true Lord, Creator, and God of all Things.

Friday, April 8, 2011

What makes a Writer

(When the quill becomes a door to a new world and inspiration starts streaming out of you; a writer you have become.)

At first people are hesitant to call themselves writers. After simply looking at the previous greats and standing in awe and wonder at their works, how can anyone dare call themselves a writer. The label and title seems a trophy unfit for most.

But when writing becomes pure joy, when it becomes a way to really express your inner self, and when you'd rather write than record yourself speaking, you know you've become a writer.

Just take a second to imagine that. Sitting and typing, or writing by hand, helps you to explain your true intentions, much more than just speaking them... How is that even possible?

It's why I'm writing this and it's why this isn't being recorded, even though doing so is immensely cheap and easy, and possibly quicker than writing this.



When you truly hold the pen steadily it rewards you in many ways. It's a gift from God, where you wield the power of creation, opening new worlds, exploring them, and finding new characters unimaginable in the real world.

Words that you can't say fly from deep inside you onto the paper. It's a one way highway, a strong connection between your soul and your writing. It's calming, wonderful, entertaining, and exciting.

It beckons to you, calling out to write more even when you least expect it.



To write for extended periods requires immense stamina and focus. You have to be true to your story. It can't just be the first thing you think of. Immediately after you think of something you ask yourself, "Is this true to the story, would this happen, could it happen"?

Fictional writing is very hard because it needs to stay in the realm of possibility, even in the most fantastic of worlds. It's why non fiction can sometimes be harder to believe than fiction; it can't be denied since it happened but it's unimaginable. That's just not always the case with Fiction, as you do have borders, and you don't want to take too far a leap of logic.

Also, some stories just need time to sit in your head for a while. Inspiration may wane, and forcing words to paper will only give you a lackluster result.



If anything it seems writing requires dedication. You have to remind yourself to re-tap your creative self, and try writing again after you've been away from it for a while.

This inability to delve back in, to lose your dedication, kills precious years off the writer. I'm very young and in my early 20's as I sit, but I feel I've lost many precious years simply not sitting down to write when I could have.

I'm thinking a schedule might remedy this. Force yourself to sit down for 30 minutes and let what happens, happen. If it doesn't work out, wait a week. If inspiration hits you, write; a no pressure dedication oriented schedule.


Final Thoughts

There is no perfect talent or perfect gift. With the good comes the bad, and even though writing can allow you to put light in the shadows of your deepest and most confusing thoughts, it also has it's own requirements and needs that need to be met.

The power of creation may rest in your hands but it's tip needs to stay sharpened. Eventually, even the lazy writers are called upon at odd hours of the night, simply to sit down and pour their deepest thoughts to the paper. (My particular case in writing this post)

It's never really the words, environment, or the characters that seem to make the story. It always seems to be the overarching vision, theme, and emotion that the story emits.

Even the oddest of characters become cherished friends when put in the right circumstances, with the right goals, and with the greatest adventures.

Write with me this night, and let our pens write themselves to their drying ends. Watch on as fluttering papers filled with words fly all around us, all small pieces of inspiration forcing their way out.

Click Daily to Feed the Hungry