It is the apparently random series of events and thoughts from any of our senses, from any stimuli, that is the fertile ground of creativity. Be it from providence or serendipity, an open brain, alert for new possibilities, is always the right place for these precious new seeds to grow. Creativity is the recombining of what is in search for truth and discovery. Thus creativity requires freedom and a sense of emotional safety, always.
Johnathan looked over the crowd. There must have been at least one hundred people watching him, bathing in the dim purple light of the club, as he clutched tightly to his cherry red Gibson Memphis. Nerves were trying to take over his body, but it only improved the pizzicato of his performance. His heart kept time with the drums, pumping the music through his veins as he lost himself in the performance. Eventually, he lost all sense of everything except for the music.
His eyes were hues of the forest, surrounded with dark moss. It was the kind of earthy green that revives the grass after a cruel, unforgiving winter. Interwoven shades hiding the chaotic nature behind. Never before have eyes held such danger and beauty all at once. He was a wild fire: reckless, untamed, yet undeniably captivating.
I've been alone for so long I've got used to it by now. What's it like to feel alone you may ask? Well, let me tell you. It's like being the only planet in a universe full of stars. It's like being in a crowd yet you're closed off in your own little bubble. One is a choice, the other is not. I guess a part of me chooses to be alone for I am afraid of people. Not afraid of them hurting me but afraid of what they think of me. I know what I need. I need someone to save me from this loneliness, to make me feel worthy and loved, worthy of being loved. I shed a tear at the thought I might always be like this, hidden away in this barren home waiting for time to pass only to find out I'm still alone.
Light shone through the wintry branches, shadowy arms stretching across the ancient ruins. What was left stood in spite of itself, defying gravity in its precarious way. Yet, this place, kept secret by the trees, was safe. It had avoided modern man's destructive touch and so had become a sanctuary for the animals.
There is a place in the woodland where the river meets the holly trees. The water forms a protective arc as those ancient trees form what we kids called a fairy ring... and we still do. There's something magical about it. In the middle of it all is an old beech tree, gnarled by the years with heaven bound limbs that dance in the air. Underfoot is nature's compost, the leaves never swept but giving their nutrients to feed the soil, the roots, the canopy above. And always there is the sound of the river, the laughing water.
This winter I'm gonna win. Let the ice crackle underfoot, for it is nothing as compared to this warm heart and the fire burning within, that steady pilot flame. That's the thing about these tough times, the most loving win because we dig in, we get determined when the greedy cut and run. So, that winter wind with its toothy bite is nothing but excitement to me.
Autumn had finally decided to come around. The leaves had changed colors, lining the trees with speckles of orange, red and yellow. When the wind blew they came down, breaking delicately off of tree branches and fluttering down to earth like a colorful rain.
I'm a boss. I rely on me. I take charge when folks need me to and I make things right; I make things good again. I do it for others. I do it because I love my community, nature, God and all of creation. I do it from a profound sense of duty, care and personal maturity. That's what real adults do; we put ourselves last and others first. We only boss so others feel safe and secure. We boss to ensure everyone has what they need and there's plenty of time left over to enjoy living and each other. We're here for love. Money and power obsession is for losers. Love is where it's at. The group is always the best place, trusting and strong. Real leaders run toward the trouble and take the hits, that's what I do. Really, it's the same as being a real chief, the wise one who self sacrifices from a sense of duty. That's us. It is the humane face of humanity and not apart of the culture of survivalist mentality that's locked the world into a death spiral of greed. Love is sustainable as a culture, fear and greed are not. And though I am a boss, though I rely on myself emotionally, others make my food, my clothes, my home and meet my energy needs. We are all connected, always, each with our valuable role.
The great philosophers spoke of first principles, yet to my way of thought there is only one first principle, love. As the branches of a tree grow from the trunk, all of the ideas for a well functioning society must truly from from love. And this must not be a ruse, the words of the great twisted to make a trap for others and engorge themselves. It can only work when we are truly good, when doing good deeds makes us truly happy within and the opposite brings misery. For when we can do this, intellect, intuition, heart and soul fully tuned into what love is and is not. When this can be put into practice and we create our brains to always refer the logic and intellect to love as first principle, then we are truly the students of philosophy and we will grow wise as those branches spread in liberty.
Well, the first international drug dealer, that I'm aware of, backed up by guns and violence, was the British government. I read about the first Opium War. It was violence to make Indian people grow poppies and then violence to make China accept it as a trade for all manner of products the British government wanted. Guns and drugs Victorian style. The aristocracy basically took the same old war they'd waged on their own people for generations and exported it to a global scale. Total psychos.
