The self-destructive artist.

Hello,

Really been neglecting this blog lately. Between all the summertime hassles of home ownership, near constant trips on my days off, and a relapse into my addiction to videogames, my spiritual writing has gone to the back burner. No longer, though. Here is one of my newest insights into human nature. Enjoy.

A few years before he died, I had a very interesting conversation with my late brother. He'd gotten me in our annual Christmas grab-bag and bought me a live recording of Pink Floyd's "The Wall", and we were sitting around afterwards jawing about music and musicians and how tragic it was that so many incredibly gifted individuals died so young: Jim Morrison, Janice Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Keith Moon, and so on. I asked him why he thought it happened, that so many artistics tend to self-destruct, and he said he thought it was because creatives tend to have "a little more of God in them", which makes them more sensitive to the evils of the world.

I thought this was bunk, but the idea caught in a crack in my brain and has stayed there for years. Why is it that those we admire so greatly, who bring such joy to our lives, are often so miserable themselves? I think the answer to this question lies in the nature and purpose of the arts. Any artistic endeavor, whether it be music, painting, or dance, is created or performed for the purpose of evoking emotion. It doesn't necessarily need to be a positive emotion: look at Stravinsky's "The Right of Spring" or Munch's "The Scream", for example. But in any example, art brings forth emotion, and the more powerful that evoking, the better the art.

So what does this have to do with musicians overdosing on heroine? In order for an artistic to create, they need to be able to grasp the emotion they intend to bring forth in their work. There has to be an intended response, a goal of joy or fear or sadness or rage or whatever that the wish their audience to experience, and so the creative needs to be able to feel the same emotion themselves. This is where things get dangerous, because too many creatives believe that they need to experience the emotion in order to truly represent it. They open themselves up to all sorts of emotional highs and lows, believing that they are necessary for their creativity to function.

Even if they survive this emotional rollercoaster, another trap lies ahead of them. While this society had done an excellent job of opening up avenues for creatives to learn the tools of their chosen trade, what is completely neglected in this "education" is their emotional learning. This society places a great deal of stock in teaching young people intelligence, but almost nothing in teaching wisdom. Intelligence is understanding of other, while wisdom is understanding of self. This is bad enough for the average person, whose greatest pitfalls are failed marriages and dependence on anti-depressants, but for artistics such lack of self-learning is deadly. They have no learning about how to deal with the very emotions they call forth from their creations, and are too often eaten alive by them.

Is it any wonder, between the two, that so many creatives turn to substance abuse to numb themselves? Too often, they are already addicts of a sort, hooked on their own creativity and the emotional heights it brings them, and the step from addiction to creation to addiction to a bottle or a pill or a powder is very, very small. To top it all off, we have the Cult of Celebrity our society has produced, which both glorifies and crucifies those "lucky" enough to have "made it" in the world as creatives. They are showered with riches, inundated with fame, and told that this is all they should need to be happy, that this is the Point Of It All. Then when they are not....

So what to do? How can this situation be stopped, for the health of those we admire so greatly and the good of our society as a whole? Perhaps the place to start is in the education of our young, teaching them wisdom as well as intelligence. Perhaps the place is in our popular culture, promoting healthier ideas about entertainment. Perhaps there is yet another place I don't personally see yet, I don't know. But something needs to be done. For all of our sakes.

CS

The rituals of the modern world

Went to go see fireworks with my brother, his son, my sister, her boyfriend, and my family yesterday. Was a typical rural-America fest: corndogs, funnel cakes, patriotic music, and a lip-synch contest won by 4 teenage boys doing "Bohemian Rhapsody".

Every culture needs it's group rituals, and their choices shed an interesting light upon said culture. From communal fire-pits stories to temple ceremonies to gladiator combat to weekly Mass to high school football games, what a culture chooses as it's communal gathering-point says a great deal about it.

The modern day has fewer and fewer of these. Yes we still have our sports teams and our fireworks displays and our parades, but too much of this has been replaced by the modern campfire pit: the television and the computer. We seem to find it harder and harder to come together with others and actually interact, make eye contact, mingle. Even those we have draw our attention away from each other and towards something else, whether that be a guy hitting a ball with a stick or an exploding skyrocket.

Perhaps this void is being filled to some extent by social video gaming. The popularity of get-your-friends-together games such as the Nintendo Wii or Guitar Hero or Rock Band shows there is a need for such a thing. Even online gaming, whether deathmatching on Call of Duty or joining a guild in World of Warcraft, can be a social interaction of sorts.

Still, interaction through electronic devices cannot replace sitting around a campfire and actually talking. We need to do more of this, methinks.

CS

My Soul, Remembering.

Hello all,

Today is the summer solstice, and whenever the Pagan holidays hit, I find myself looking back at how I had marked them in the past. Once I would have marked the sunrise and sundown with rituals. Today, I slept until 10 am and caught fireflies with my kids at dusk. The older I get and the more my soul remembers, the more I realize that ritual and ceremony are really just foci, chances for us to feel like we belong to something greater, a group of like minds. Once we start to catch on that all this separation and differences of opinion are just window dressing, that We Are All One, all the need to belong disappears. Because we already belong to the greatest group of all.

God.

CS

The Tightrope Walk of Spirituality

It is a razor-fine line we all walk, to hold steady to our own truths, yet to also be open to new truths that other souls may bring into our lives. One one side is arrogance and surety, which are both just disguised fear of being wrong. The other side is compliance and loss of self, which are sacrifices made in order to feel sure, which brings us back to fear again. The deeper we delve into spirituality, the more we hang our sense of self and our self-esteem upon it, and ironically, the more susceptible we are to our fears and insecurities. 

Thus for anyone on the Vertical Path, the most important question we can ask ourselves is "what if this belief I hold dear is wrong?" The more we recoil in fear from this question, the more we must honestly examine that belief. If, instead of fear, we sense a simple feeling of un-right-ness, of lack of resonance with our soul, we know that, at least for now, this truth is our own. 

Problem is, not only is such a question unpleasant to ask ourselves, but the paths of arrogance or compliance are far easier than the path of self-honesty.   It is easy to lock our beliefs into place, it is easy to allow others to dictate our truths.  It is damned hard to always question ourselves.  But if we can get ourselves to a place where we can do this, the rewards are huge. Only when we achieve self-honesty can we truly have compassion for others, because these personal insights allow us to understand the actions of others.  We can see that when someone does something that upsets us, they do it because of their own imbalances.  This compassion brings us great inner serenity, because it allows us to "accept the things we cannot change, the courage to change the things we can, and the wisdom to know the difference."

Karma

I was posting on SpiritualForums.com today regarding Karma, and I really liked what I wrote so I decided to repost it here, just for chucks.  Enjoy.

I don't think Karma in the traditional sense exists, as in we get punished with unpleasant lives because of things we did in other lives. That would only make sense if Time existed in the realm of Spirit. But Time is a function of physical reality, a tool that allows us to organize our experiences here. Outside of this Realm of the Relative, there is only the infinite Moment of Now. Thus there can be no "karmic rebalancing" because which direction does it rebalance? Forward in time? Backwards? Randomly?Traditional Karma only works if lives are progressed through linearly, but future lives are just as much a reality as past lives, they're just harder to perceive because of how probability splinters the timelines.

That having been said, there are still consequences and the law of cause and effect. The vibrations of our thoughts and actions draw like energy to us. This is not justice, but simple spiritual physics: that which is sent out eventually returns. The reason for this is incredibly simple: We Are All One, thus what happens to another happens to you. Again, like Time, this action/reaction is a function of physical reality, and thus does not affect the realms of Spirit. Thus nothing carries over from one lifetime to another.

So then, why are some lives harder than others? This is really the question that the idea of Karma was created to answer, the seeming injustice of one person being born to privilege and another to squalor, one with perfect health and another with chronic illness, one living to be a centarian, another dead as a teenager. "How is this fair?" we ask the universe. This only seems unfair if we maintain our illusion of separateness. If we remember that We Are All One, then we do not envy that person for their health or wealth or longevity, we bless the fact that these others are really facets of ourselves, and we, with our illness or poverty or short life, are giving these others a chance to appreciate what they have.

Now this is a very deep and difficult and esoteric way of looking at things. It's bloody hard to be grateful for our hunger when others have food. So let's look at this another way. At the level of our souls, we choose our lives and our experiences. We draw situations to ourselves in order to define Who We Are in relationship to what happens to us. At all times, no matter how hard things are, it is possible to look into our souls and sense the why of things, to understand the choice we made to draw these circumstances to us. In reality, this is type of reverse Karma. By changing our perspective and understanding, we can draw to our lives the circumstances we choose rather than unconsciously behaving in a way that draws consequences to us.

Thus, traditional Karma only really exists for those who do not go through life making conscious choices. As long as we bumble our way through life thinking that thing happen to us, thing will indeed happen to us. The moment we take the reigns and live consciously, life becomes something that happens because of us, for then we are truly being the cause.

CS

Peace and Joy to all, no exceptions, for we are all One. Thus, my Peace and Joy are also yours, and yours, mine.

Do Vegetarians Really Taste Better?

Good morning all,

I consider myself a relatively enlightened being. If enlightenment were a school, with Yeshua and Siddhartha Gautama and such as doctorate students and the average person in preschool, I'd put myself in about 4th or 5th grade. Far enough along where we can drop the ABCs and 123s and really start digging into concepts and ideas. But there seems to be a common thread in most people on the Vertical Path that I just can't get my head around, that I not only can't grasp, but totally disagree with.

Vegetarianism.

More often than not, those I would consider "enlightened" tend to lean Vegan, or at least tend to stay away from McDonald's Quarter Pounders. People rail on about the health evils of red meat, the horrible mistreatment of agri-business farm animals, the lack of respect for the spirits of the slaughtered, and so on and so forth, and I honestly disagree.

Ok, maybe I should qualify that disagreement. Yes, animals on big farms are treated horribly. Veal calves and geese raised for foie gras are the most disgusting examples, but even chickens and pigs and cows are treated like machines and not living things. This is wrong (as in, I choose to define my idea of "right" in contrast to this "wrong), and those who are part of this system are racking up a whole bunch of Cause. The accompanying Effect will come eventually, and that probably won't be much fun for them.

That having been cleared up, I honestly feel no wrongdoing whatsoever from firing up my grill, making up a nice black pepper/dried garlic/rosemary rub, getting a couple nice big NY strips or Ribeyes, and having me a good ol' American barbecue. In fact, I derive a certain kind of joy from it. Perhaps this cow was mistreated by others, but I am putting my effort and my joy and my love into making a meal for my family, and when I put this love in and get pleasure out of this meal, I feel I am honoring the animal in the finest way I know how. 

Yes again, overindulging in red meat is bad for you. My beloved Ribeyes have a ton of cholesterol and fat in them, I know this. But full-blown vegetarianism is just as bad in it's own way. Vegans usually have to take iron supplements in order to not become anemic, for example. Think of the stereotypical Vegan: rail thin, paper white, big circles under the eyes? Does that sound healthy to you? Some friends of mine are raising their daughter Vegan. Guess what: she has a ton of digestive health problems and food allergies. Of course, her parents are sure that these issues are pre-existing and not a result of their choices. Me, not so sure. So thus my favorite sides with my steaks is some lightly steamed broccoli or asparagus and a seasoned, unbuttered baked potato. Yum! All things in moderation.

I truly believe that part of the point of life is to create our own definitions of right and wrong, and then to define ourselves based off of those definitions. So if your definition of wrong includes not eating anything that has a face, bully for you. But everyone has to remember that their ideas of right and wrong are exactly that: 1)ideas, not truths, and 2)theirs, not everyones. 

Now excuse me, I'm gonna go make me some bacon and eggs for breakfast. 

CS

__________________
Peace and Joy to all, no exceptions, for we are all One. Thus, my Peace and Joy are also yours, and yours, mine.

Frustration

Hello everyone.

So imagine you have this idea, this story, that fills you with joy, that you truly feel in you heart of hearts and soul of souls is important, that you need to share.  So instead of going the usual write-a-query-letter-find-an-agent-contact-publishers-yadayadayada crap, you instead try it the 21st century way.  You post it on a blog, you throw it up on a couple of related online forums, you mass e-mail it out to everyone you have contact info for, telling them to forward it on virally, saying "hey, you do it for dumb jokes, do it for this!"  You tell everyone "give me feedback, don't just say 'good job', be critical!"

Then you wait.

And wait.

And wait.

On your blog, your friends and family pretty much all say "good job" (with a few exceptions, thanks Sam and Pete).  The forums get a few vanilla replies the first day or two, and then it gets buried under all the people talking about crystal readings and relationship problems and how they've been meditating for a whole week now and nothing's happening and all the crap that you outgrew a decade ago.  That alignment, that synchronicity that you were so sure would happen doesn't.  And all this time that wonderful high, that rightness you felt when the story first flew out of your mind, down your fingers, and onto the screen easier and faster and better than anything you've ever written in you life, starts to fade.  You get sick, have a hard time kicking it.  You here more news about old friends going through hard times.  You think about the past, and all the dear people you miss, and wonder why you've had such a hard time connecting with anyone out here at the ass end of nowhere.  Basically, the peak fades, and now it's the hard scrabble to keep the plateau as high as possible, and every little banal thing seems to be working together against you. 

Frustration seems to be the greatest obstacle to gaining any kind of enlightenment.  Look at Jesus, for example.  How many times did he get upset because his disciples missed the points of his parables?  How often did he lose his temper with the authorities?  How many of those tears of blood wept at Gethsemane were not tears of fear, but tears of frustration at having so little time left and so much more he wished to share?  Quite a few, I think.  When the Buddha held the lotus blossom up in silence in front of 1250 of his followers, and only 1 understood why he did it, did he get frustrated?  Probably.  And I am nothing compared to these.  I am, as John the Baptizer said, not even worthy to help one of them on with their sandals.  They are graduate students working on their doctorates, I am in kindergarten still trying to learn how to tie my shoes and count past 10.  But this does not mean I cannot try to help my little brothers and sisters to stack up their blocks or draw circles.  And if my siblings would rather scribble than draw circles, or knock towers down than build them up, am I allowed to get frustrated?  Yes.  But are they also allowed to scribble and knock things down?  Yes, and that's the hard thing to remember.  Eventually, I will find others who will want to play my games, who will also want to learn to tie shoes and count past 10, and then we shall play wonderful games of make-believe together.  Until then, I just have to keep my temper.

CS

"There is really no death."

"The smallest sprout shows there is really no death, 

And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it, 

And ceas'd the moment life appear'd. 

All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, 

And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier."

Walt Whitman wrote that in "Song of Myself", and five years ago I read it to the congregation at my brother's funeral. My brother was only 47 years old. He died suddenly while on a trip to California with friends, from a rare virus that attacks the heart and enlarges it. He left behind a loving wife and two adolescent children. By any normal measure, this was a tragedy. But his funeral was a celebration, and one of the most amazing experiences of my life.  

My brother and I were exactly the same except in the ways we were complete opposites. Well over 6 feet, broad-chested and deep-voiced where I am a slender tenor, he was known as "Big Mike" by just about everyone, and just about everyone knew him. While I have always been drawn to alternative religions, he was very traditional. He spent 2 years in a Catholic seminary before going evangelical, and spent most of the last third of his life traveling throughout Illinois, Indiana, and Wisconsin, founding bible studies, youth ministries, and church music groups everywhere. Especially the music, which was a first love of both of us, and our strongest bond. Politically, we saw eye to eye in a strange way. I'm a good ol' fashioned liberal, while he was a William Jennings Bryant-style Populist: social conservative, economic liberal. We had the usual we-are-family-so-we-won't-talk-religion unspoken agreement, which is my only regret: I would have loved to really talk with him about it. 

Needless to say, his death was a shock, but if anything, his funeral was even more so. The whole family knew he had "devoted his life to God", but had no idea what it really meant. The service was held in a big old Lutheran church he was a nominal member of, and it was good that it was held there, because it was literally standing room only: we later estimated there were about a thousand people there. Members of every church he visited, every group he founded, every life he touched showed up. After the initial service, the mike was opened up to everyone, and people talked for nearly 3 hours about my brother, how amazing he was, how he had touched and improved their lives. 

I thought long and hard about what I was going to say beforehand, and finally chose the 6th stanza of Walt Whitman's poem "Song of Myself", part of which I quoted above. It was strange to walk up in front of all those strangers who knew my brother, strange to stand in front of a church congregation for the first time since I dropped out of my church choir at 18. But in sharing those words, I felt myself heal. In reaching out to all those people with these sentiments, that death is not an end, but a change, the wound in my heart in the shape of my great mountain of a brother started closing, just as I helped all of those strangers to close theirs.  

So what does this all mean, and why do I share it here with you? Because despite all of our faiths and beliefs, we don't actually know what happens when we die. We think we know, but it is all conjecture and intuition. But if there is one lesson I brought from the untimely death of my brother, it was this: that even if we do wink out like a candle when we die, what greater and truer immortality is there than to leave behind a great mass of people who remember you fondly? The kindly actions of my brother will echo down through the years, carried on by all the people whom he helped, inspired, and brought peace to. In this, he lived a thousand years. In this, he found heaven.  

CS

The common thread in spiritualists

I've been noodling around on some of the multitude of spiritual forums lately, specifically Visionary and Spiritual Forums, and I've noticed a common theme in the posters there, one that I've noticed before.  Much as with creative people, those who are attracted to alternative spiritualities tend to have... unpleasant pasts.  I've always wondered why this is true, and I have my own little theory.

We live in a world of dualities: up and down, left and right, good and evil, male and female.  The reason for this is because dualities are defined by each other.  Without right, nothing can be left. Without up, nothing can be down.  Duality is also an aspect of human experiences: we define right by what we consider wrong, good by what we define as evil.  In order for us to make any kind of value judgement, we have to have a point of reference with which to judge.

So what does this have to do with alternative spirituality?  Well, when people go through a lot of negative experiences early in life, ones that are, to their knowledge, outside the norm, it changes how they define good in their minds and their lives.  Once they work through their own traumas and emotional issues, they are still left with a definition of "bad" that is outside the norm, one based on the problems they faced as children and adolescents.  Because these people consider their experiences to be outside the norm (whether or not they are is a question for another day), they often also choose to think of their idea of "good" as outside the norm.  They develop a dim view of traditional moralities and religions and are drawn to the unusual, namely to alternative spiritualities:  Wicca, mediums, New Age, and so on.

Of course, this could be a bunch of psychobabble crap on my part, but it at least makes for interesting discussion.

A little linguistics lesson

It's happened to everyone, you bash your finger or something scares you, you say "Jesus Christ!" or words to that effect, and somebody tells you not to take the Lord's name in vain. Or maybe you're the person telling people that. Either way, you get the point. Well, the Curious Snowflake is here today to let you in on a little secret....

His name wasn't Jesus Christ.

Those of you who saw Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ" may have caught this. Throughout the movie, they refer to him as something like Yehoshua, not as Jesus. Well, let me just tell you that Mr. Gibson did his homework. He's right, that was His name. Let me explain.

Some linguist, I don't remember who, once described English as the slut of the linguistic world: it doesn't care where it gets it's words from, it just takes it all. English itself is actually an amalgam of 3 different languages: the original British Isles Gaelic, Latin from Roman occupation, and Germanic from the Saxon invaders during the Dark Ages. This makes English very open to addition. Don't believe me? Then what does the word "amigo" mean?

In any case, one tendency of English is to mangle the pronunciation of the words it absorbs. The name Jesus is a prime example. The first monks to come to the British Isles during the 3rd and 4th Century were from what is now Spain, and they called him Jesus (hey-soos), which we Anglos just turned into Jesus (gee-zus) phonetically.

So where did Hey-soos come from? From German, actually. Remember, Germany and Spain were once part of the Roman Empire, and thus absorbed a lot from each other. In German, Gee-zus is called Jesu (yay-zoo). Some of you may remember a hymn by Bach called "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring", for example. And German got it, logically enough, from Latin, the language of the Romans, also spelled Jesu (or Iesu, since I and J are interchangeable in Latin), and pronounce ee-EH-soo.

Now, a little Biblical history. While Latin was the language of the church for over 1500 years, it was not the original Biblical language. The earliest Bibles are not written in Latin, but in Greek. This makes sense, since all those churches St. Paul founded and wrote all those Epistles too are Greek cities: Galacia, Thessaly, Ephasia, and so on. In Greek, His name is Ieshu (ee-EH-shu). The reason for this change from SH to S is simple: Latin has no SH sound, so they had to make do.

So where did Ieshu come from? While Jesus may well have known Greek, his native language was Hebrew. Ieshu is a Greek modification of the Hebrew name Yeshua (ee-Eh-shu-ah), or Yehoshua (ee-EH-ho-SHU-ah), meaning God is salvation, and is the source of our name Joshua. The reason the A at the end was dropped in Greek is because Greek names that end in A are usually female. We want to make sure our God is male, thanks much :-P

As for Christ, that deriviation is a lot less convoluted. Christ comes almost directly from the Greek work krystos, which is the word St. Paul chose to use in his Epistles. It is a literal translation into Greek of the Hebrew word messhiah, both of which mean "Chosen One" or, more literally, "Annointed One", and is the source of the word Messiah.

So next time you smash your thumb, try saying "oh Josh the Chosen One!" and see how silly you feel. And if you are the person who reminds people not to break the Third Commandment, remember, they are just saying a mistranslation of a mistranslation of a mistranslation of a mistranslation of a mistranslation of the Hebrew version of the third most popular baby name right now.

Peace and Joy to all, no exceptions

CS

The Curious Snowflake, Part 4

Part 4


After a time, the Self that was once the Curious Snowflake
chose to come back to being herself as herself again,
for she now felt a strange longing,
not unlike the feeling she had just before she Fell from the Great Cloud.

“What is it, Beloved?” asked the Ocean.
“I thought that you and I are One, O Ocean.”
said the Self.
“Do you not already know my heart’s desire?”
The Ocean then laughed Its great and shimmering laugh.
“Your desire, oh my wonderful Child,
is to tell me what your desire is.”

The Self laughed as well, for it knew this to be true.
“O Ocean, to be truly and perfectly One with you
is the greatest bliss, but I feel there is something else,
something more that I can experience away from you again.
I believe it is time for me to leave
and return to the clouds.”

“Of course, Beloved, of course you feel this way.
You are still the Curious Self, and ever shall be
for I am Myself curious.
It was curiosity that caused Me to send each Self
forth into the clouds to explore,
and that same curiosity is in each of you
for you and I are One.”

“But Ocean,” said the Curious Self,
“I shall greatly miss being here, One with You.”
“Dearest Child,” replied the Ocean
more kindly and lovingly than ever,
“you still do not understand.
Even when you are not here within Me
we are still One, for I am within your heart.
You ARE me, merely sent forth,
and you need to just look inside yourself
to be with Me again.”

“But won’t I forget this truth?”
said the Curious Self.
“I spent my entire time as the Curious Snowflake
searching for that knowledge!
Am I doomed to repeat that search
over and over each time I return to the clouds?”

“Beloved, do not worry.
Did I not show you when you first returned to Me
that the truths of each snowflake you have been
are there, in your heart, alongside Me?
The Great Truth of your time as the Curious Snowflake
was the knowledge that you are Me
and that Falling is actually Returning.
You will not forget this, unless you choose to.”
And the Curious Self understood, and was glad.

“So, Beloved, how do you wish to return?
What form do you wish to wear
and what part of the Ground Below do you wish to explore?”
“I get to choose?” asked the Curious Soul,
“You do not choose for me?
I thought that You would set my path
so that I could do Your will?”

“Your will for you is My will for you, Dearest Child,”
replied the Ocean.
“The experience is always yours to have
and yours to choose.
All I ask is that keep within your heart
the memory of Oneness with Me.
And even if you do not, that is also good,
for sometimes a Self must forget completely
to do what they wish to do with their time apart from Me.”

“So I may choose?” asked the Curious Self.
“You may choose whatever you wish,”
replied the Ocean.
“Choose from your heart, Beloved,
and claim with joy the adventure of your next life.”

The Curious Self thought long and hard
about what her next time among the clouds should be like.
She imagined herself crystalline and beautiful
dancing at the cloud top,
but that did not feel true to her heart.
She imagined herself thin and sharp,
spinning daringly at the cloud edges,
but that too did not feel true to her heart.
She imagined herself small and hard,
cold and silent at the cloud bottoms,
but none of these felt true to her heart.

And then, just as the Curious Self was beginning to despair
and thought she would never find the right form to take on,
a memory came to her..
A memory of a quiet, shimmering laugh,
much like the laugh of the Ocean Itself,
and her heart leapt, for she had found at last
the form she would next take.

“SO SHALL IT BE!” said the Voice of the Ocean
greater and grander than ever the Curious Self had heard it.
And she felt herself rising up
leaving the depths of the Ocean in which she had dwelt.
“Goodbye, oh goodbye Ocean,
dearest friend!”
“There is no goodbye, finest and dearest Child,”
said the Ocean, much quieter now,
“for you have chosen to remember Me fully.
Not one Self in a million is like you,
ready for the responsibility you take on,
but you are ready, and you shall be magnificent.
And even if this really were to be a goodbye between us,
what is goodbye but a chance to say hello again,
eventually?”

As the Ocean spoke, Its voice became quieter and quieter,
until at the end, it was once again the still, tiny voice
that had always lived in the Curious Self’s heart.
But she knew now what this Voice was
and knew that she would never forget Whom it was that spoke within her.

The Curious Self felt herself emerge from the Ocean,
still without form,
and rise up into the sky.
She did not join up with another cloud
as any other Self would have then done.
Instead she rose higher and higher
into the spaces between the other clouds.
And there, with nothing below her but the Ocean Itself
and nothing above her but the Great Light,
and the Sky Above an expanse of perfect blue,
the Curious Self took form again.
She was very small and very beautiful,
tightly packed and intricate,
and when she beheld her new form, she laughed aloud
and the laughter caused her to shimmer like diamonds.
She was at last what she was meant to be;
not the Curious Snowflake,
nor the Curious Self,
nor the Self at one with the Ocean,
but a new First Flake
filled with the wisdom of all the flakes she had been before,
beautiful and unique and perfect.
“Behold, this is my Beloved Child,”
said the still, small voice of the Ocean within the First Flake’s heart
“with whom I am well pleased.”

And the First Flake extended her coldness outward,
and lo, a mantle of gray covered the Great Light,
for a new Great Cloud formed around her.
As it grew, she could hear a multitude of other Selfs
crying out their own goodbyes to the Ocean
and rising up to join her.
As they touched her Great Cloud, they too formed into snowflakes,
each of a type that suited them.
Some were as stars,
some were as needles,
some were as pebbles,
but each was unique, and perfect in their uniqueness.

Soon, the First Flake felt her cloud was complete,
and thus the flow of new snowflakes stopped.
She could hear every word and every deed that happened
within her Great Cloud,
and now understood her great responsibility.
She could not control when a certain snowflake Fell,
(that indeed was that flake’s decision
whether they knew it or not)
but she did control her Great Cloud
and thus the destination of the flakes in her care.

“Worry not, nor should you fret
Dearest Child,”
spoke the voice within the First Flake’s heart
“travel where you will,
for cannot a cloud pass over a mountain
without a single flake falling one time
then create a blizzard the next?
The other snowflakes shall Fall when they Fall.
When you reach the proper place for each,
they will know in their hearts that it is their time.”
And with that advice, the new First Flake set off
with her new Great Cloud
and all the other snowflakes in her care.

For a great and long time
the First Flake and her cloud traveled the world,
skirting the tops of mountains
and shading the plains and valleys.
Few other flakes came do visit her in the heart of the cloud,
but she was not lonely.
She could hear the voices of all the other flakes,
whom she now thought of as her children,
and ever in her heart was the still, small voice of the Ocean.

Those who did visit her saw her wisdom
but could not understand her ways.
First Flakes care little
for the vanity of beauty,
the foolhardiness of knowledge,
or the pride of goodness,
so other flakes knew not what to make of her,
and they let her be.
This did make her a little sad,
for she longed for someone with whom she could share
the wisdom she knew
from all the flakes she once had been.

Then one day, a single snowflake came floating up to her.
“Pardon me,” he said
“but I have heard tell of a flake unlike any other.
One who, if rumors are true, is older than the Great Cloud Itself.”
“I have heard such stories as well,”
said the First Flake.
“How can I help you, young one?”

“Are you that flake?” he asked.
“Yes, young one, I am the First Flake.
When the Great Cloud first formed, I was here
and when the Great Cloud vanishes, as all clouds must
I will be the last to Fall.”
At this, this new Curious Snowflake became very excited.
“First Flake,” he stammered
“if you can’t answer my question, I don’t think anyone can.
What happens when we Fall?”

At this, the First Flake shimmered with glad laughter.
“Ah, young one,
you remind me very much of another snowflake I knew once.
This flake asked this same question,
and I shall give you the same answer
that helped her so very long ago.”

“What do you think?”

What do you think?


End

Curious Snowflake, Part 3

Part 3


As she whirled and spun on the strange winds,
beneath the Great Cloud,
the Curious Snowflake gazed upward at what had been her home
and beheld that it was but one cloud among many
neither the largest
nor the smallest,
nor the darkest
nor the lightest,
and she saw that it was right, that it was good.

As she approached the Ground Below
she saw that, instead of the smooth, flat surface she expected
it was instead heaving, surging, rippling beneath her.
For a moment, the Curious Snowflake was afraid,
but a small voice in her heart,
the very one that always told her that other’s ideas about Falling were wrong,
seemed to say:
“Fear not. All is as it should be.”
She felt that it was right, that it was good,
so she let go of her fear
and touched the Ground Below.

But instead of landing on it, the Curious Snowflake sunk into it.
And not only that,
but her beautiful, crystalline body was disappearing,
dissolving into the very substance of the Ground Below.
It wasn’t painful, or even unpleasant,
but she was so surprised that for a moment, the fear returned,
stronger than before.
But once again, the small voice returned, also stronger than before.
“Fear not, child. All is as it should be. You are safe.”
She felt that it was right, that it was good,
so the Curious Snowflake let go of her fear once more,
and her body faded away into nothing
and she was the Curious Snowflake no more.

But her Curious Self remained.
She seemed suspended in a void
neither hot nor cold
neither moving nor still.
Her body was gone, but who she was, what she knew, remained.
“So,” she thought, “the star-shaped ones were wrong.
We do not disappear when we Fall.:
“Of course they were wrong, my Dearest Child,” came a voice.
“You always knew that.”

It was the same voice from her heart again,
but it was no longer small, and no longer just within her.
It was not sound, it was not thought.
It was not loud, it was not soft.
It came from nowhere and from everywhere.
And while it was strong as hurricanes and deep as night
it was also perfectly gentle and infinitely kind.
“Who are you?” thought the Curious Self.
“I am the Ocean, Dearest Child.
From Me, you came, long ago
to Me, you now have returned.
Welcome home, Beloved.”

“I do not understand,” thought the Curious Self
“Then I shall explain, Beloved,” said the Ocean,
“for I know you as I know Myself
and you shall not be content until all is made plain.”

“Long, long ago, so very long
that the time your Great Cloud exists is but a single puff of breeze,
I was all there was.
My singleness was perfect, but I knew there could be more,
things other than Myself.
So I withdrew from some places and deepened Myself in others,
and thus the Ground Below rose up from within me,
and it was good, for now there were things other than Myself
and I could understand Myself even more.”

“Now I wished to explore this new Ground Below,
so, using the warmth of the Great Light in the Sky Above,
I caused some of Myself to rise up into the air
and then thicken, condense,
into beautiful crystalline shapes in the coldness of the sky.
Thus the first Great Clouds were born from me
and the first snowflakes from these clouds,
separate from Me, but of one substance with Me.”

“And I let these first clouds loose,
freeing them to float upon the winds of the sky,
and as they passed over the new Ground Below
I caused some of these new snowflakes to Fall
so that they may explore these new places.”

“Some flakes Fell back upon Me, as you have
and were rejoined to Me to tell tales of floating in the sky.”

“Others Fell as rain to run upon the ground,
to trickle and gather together in streams,
which gather into greater streams and then into great rivers
which then are rejoined to Me to tell tales of running brooks
and meandering currents.”

“Still others Fell as flakes
and covered the Ground Below in still whiteness
for a time or a season,
only to then change under the warmth of the Great Light
back to water, to follow the paths their brethren took as rain
rejoining to Me to tell tales of winter winds
and still crystal nights.”

“Still others Fell also as flakes, but upon mountaintops
to stay there for many turnings of seasons,
grinding the slow grind of glaciers,
until, at long last, giving in to the warmth
they follow their brethren’s path back to Me
to tell tales of rock and ice
and the slow flow of Time.”

“Thus, every flake of every Great Cloud,
no matter how long the journey,
(for some are stranger still than these)
will return to Me, for they are Me
only changed and sent forth
to explore and return with tales of all they have seen
so that I may better understand Myself.”

As the Ocean told this tale,
the Curious Self saw each thing and felt each journey.
She was the drops of rain.
She was the babbling brook.
She was the snowy field.
She was the creeping glacier.
And she looked into her heart and saw it was all true.

“So,” thought the Curious Self,
“the needle-shaped flakes were wrong.
We do not exist to whirl and twirl.”
“Of course they were wrong, my Dearest Child,”
replied the Voice of the Ocean
“You always knew that.
But you do return to the clouds again, if you wish.”
“And the pebble-shaped ones were wrong too,”
thought the Curious Self.
“We do not exist to be cold and perfect,
and you do not judge us.”
“Of course they were wrong, my Dearest Child,”
replied the Voice of the Ocean.
“You always knew that.
But you do return to Me to view your time apart,
and during your time within the Great Cloud
it is by coldness and perfection that you define
who you are and what you learn.”

“Likewise, the star-shaped ones were both right and wrong.
Your perfect Self does not disappear,
but your unique shape and form are gone
and never again shall there be a snowflake
in just that shape.

“Each are right and each are wrong,
and such is as it must be,
for while each flake is unique,
like is drawn to like in form and thought and truth.
Their only mistake is the belief
that only their truths are true.”

As the Voice of the Ocean spoke
the Curious Self remembered all she had learned
of beauty from the star-shaped flakes,
of knowledge from the needle-shaped flakes,
of goodness from the pebble-shaped flakes,
and of wisdom from the First Flake,
and she felt in her heart the truth of what she was told.

“Now, my Beloved Child,
I am sure you have many questions for me.
Is there anything you wish to know?”
“There is one thing,” thought the Curious Self.
“If I have been to other Great Clouds in the past,
why don’t I remember anything from them?”
The Ocean laughed then, and the sound
made the Curious Self think of her old friend the First Flake
and how he would shimmer with it.
“My dearest and most wonderful Child
why do you think you forget?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Think back, Beloved,” replied the Ocean
“when you heard the partial truths
which the other flakes believe
how did you react to them?”
“Well,” said the Curious Self
“I would look inside my heart and then I would know
whether they were true or not.”
“And what else would be in your heart, Dearest Child,”
said the Ocean,
“but the truths you brought from the flakes you were before?”

The Curious Self looked into her heart just then
and saw for herself the truth
of what the Ocean told her.
For there, shining in her heart like stars,
were all of the truths of every flake she had been.
One truth seemed greater than all the others
surrounding and binding all she had learned before
into one Great Truth,
and as the Curious Self gazed in wonder
at this, she realized what this One Great Truth was,
and the joy she felt at this
was greater than anything she had ever experienced before.

“Yes, my Beloved. Yes, my Dearest Child,
now you see and understand it all,
for this Great Truth that lies within you
is that you and I are One.
From Me you came, to Me you return
endlessly turning and returning
and ever bringing me more and more to know of Myself.
Within your heart, I dwell
whispering the truths you need whenever you need them,
for I long for nothing more
than your happiness and understanding.
For your happiness is My happiness
and your understanding also Mine.”

This great new understanding burned within the Curious Self,
changing her yet again,
for now she understood all, and was curious no more.
So she fell into the awareness of who she truly was
and spent a glorious and timeless time
at one with the Ocean from whence she came.

Now on Twitter

Hey all,

If any of you Twitter, feel free to add me.  Search my name, or just find CuriousSnowflak (not a typo, they only allow 15 characters, the bastards)

Peace and Joy to all, no exceptions.

JCS

God in 10 dimensions

Hello,

Thanks to my dear friends at The Oddlots Irregulars, I found a very cool little video I wanted to share with all of you.  Check it out here.  Takes about 5 minutes to watch.  Go on, I can't continue this post until you do.  I'll wait.

Well, now that you've had your mind stretched a little, let me stretch it more.  So if all actual, possible, and impossible realities exist at a single point in 10-dimensional space, what if that point is actually God?

Some people have asked me how I can believe in a God so vast and impersonal.  I say, how more personal of a God do you want than one with whom you are One?  It is the Christian God, the one reclining on some vast and distant cloudy throne, passing judgement on us all, that I find impersonal.  This God, this Oneness, this Ocean from which we snowflakes all come and all return, this is a truly personal God.

Peace and joy to all, no exceptions.

JCS

The Curious Snowflake, Part 2

Part 2

The Curious Snowflake was now beginning to worry
that no one could answer her question.
So she went at last to the very center of the Great Cloud
where snowflakes rarely go
to see if anyone there could help her.
She searched and searched for someone to ask,
and then, just when she was going to give up,
she saw a single snowflake hanging motionless in the air.

“This must be a very special snowflake,”
she thought to herself,
“for I have never seen anyone so still before”
He was very small, and very beautiful,
and unlike any other the Curious Snowflake had ever seen.
“Hello, young one” he said in a kind voice.

“Hello,” the Curious Snowflake replied.
“Who are you?”
“I am the First Flake,” he said
“When the Great Cloud first formed, I was here
and when the Great Cloud vanishes, as all clouds must
I will be the last to Fall.”
At this, the Curious Snowflake became very excited,
for here at last was one that might be able to help her.

“I know of your travels, young one”
the First Flake continued,
“for I know much of what happens in the Great Cloud.
Please, ask me your question.”
At this, the Curious Snowflake became even more excited.
“First Flake,” she stammered
“if you can’t help me, I don’t think anyone can.
What happens when we Fall?”

“What have other flakes told you?”
the First Flake asked.
“Well,” she replied,
“the star-shaped flakes say we disappear,
but that makes no sense
because there must be a reason we exist.
The needle-shaped flakes say we are here to learn
but that makes no sense
because some learn faster than others, so that wouldn’t be fair.
The pebble-shaped flakes say we are here to be perfect
but that makes no sense
because some never have a chance to learn how.”

At this, the First Flake laughed quietly,
shimmering beautifully from within.
“My dear young one,” he said
“you are rare indeed.
Not one snowflake in a million is like you.
Most are content with the answers they receive
from the others like them.
But not you. You must ask, you must question.
So for you there is only one real answer to the question you ask.”

“What do you think happens when we Fall?”

The Curious Snowflake was stunned.
She had asked everyone else this question,
but never thought to ask herself.
“I don’t know,” she answered slowly.
‘that’s why I’ve been asking everyone.”
“Of course you know, in your heart” the First Flake replied.
“If you were simply looking for an answer,
the first one you heard would have been enough.
But you kept looking and looking,
asking and asking,
which means that the real answer is within you!”

“Does that mean that you don’t know either?”
the Curious Snowflake asked.
“Whether or not I know doesn’t matter,” the First Flake replied
“what matters is this: would you accept what I say,
or would you question it?”

The Curious Snowflake thought about this for a moment
and felt within her heart that it was true.
“Thank you, First Flake,” she said with a smile.
“The Great Cloud is a very big place
and the knowledge I need to answer my question
must be there, waiting for me.
I shall go and find it.”
And she floated away.

For a long time, the Curious Snowflake wandered the Great Cloud
learning all she could from every flake she met.
She danced the dances of the star-shaped flakes
until she was thought as beautiful as any of them.
She whirled and twirled to the very edges of the Great Cloud
with the needle-shaped flakes
until she was thought as learned as any of them.
She chilled herself in silence with the pebble-shaped flakes
until she was thought as good as any of them.
She also visited the First Flake many times,
hanging herself motionless in space until she was as still as he was,
and laughing from within until she shimmered with it as he did.

But despite all the pleasure,
all the knowledge,
all the goodness
and all the wisdom she gained,
the Curious Snowflake still never quite answered her biggest question.
Usually, this didn’t bother her, but sometimes it did,
and during these moments, she though of Falling,
and rather than the horror that every other flake felt
she felt a strange longing and curiosity.

Then on one of her tired days
as she traveled along the bottom of the Great Cloud,
the Curious Snowflake felt a odd heaviness within her.
She gazed down at the gray and featureless surface
of the Ground Below
and that strange longing and curiosity overcame her again.
And, without strain, without fear, without hesitation
she simply let go. Let go of everything.

And the Curious Snowflake Fell.

The Curious Snowflake, Part 1

The Curious Snowflake
A Children's Parable

Part 1

Once upon a time, there was a snowflake.

She was not the largest snowflake in the Great Cloud,
nor the smallest,
nor the prettiest,
nor the plainest,
but she was the one that asked the most questions
because she was eaten up from tip to tip with curiosity.

She asked why the Sky Above was sometimes blue
and sometimes black.
She asked why the North Wind felt different from the South Wind
and the East Wind from the West Wind.
She asked why the Pale Light always changed its shape,
but the Bright Light never did.
She asked why the Ground Below always changed color.
She asked why the thunder always followed the lightning.
She asked and asked and asked and asked and asked
until all the other snowflakes were quite cross with her.

Then one day, the Curious Snowflake asked a new question.
“What happens when we Fall?”
All the other snowflakes gasped aloud
for no snowflake wants to talk about Falling,
leaving the Great Cloud forever,
never to return.

“You ask too many questions,” the other snowflakes snapped,
more cross than ever.
“Go away.”
“I believe I shall,” the Curious Snowflake replied.
“The Great Cloud is a very big place,
so there must be someone who knows what happens when we Fall.
I shall go and find them.”
And she floated away.

The Curious Snowflake went first to the very top of the Great Cloud,
where all the snowflakes are large and star-shaped,
and asked them,
“What happens when we fall?”
All the star-shaped snowflakes gasped aloud
for no snowflake wants to talk about Falling,
leaving the Great Cloud forever,
never to return.

“Well,” answered the largest and most beautiful of the star-shaped ones,
“here at the top of the Great Cloud we are taught
that once we touch the Ground Below
we vanish, gone forever.
So we must enjoy the Great Cloud while we are here,
and strive to be as big and beautiful as we can be.
For that is the purpose of a snowflake, to be beautiful.”

The Curious Snowflake thought about this for a moment,
and felt in her heart that it was not quite right.
“If that is true,” she said
then why is there a Great Cloud at all?
Can you tell me why the Great Cloud exists
if what you say is true?”

“You ask too many questions,” the star-shaped snowflakes snapped,
now very cross with her.
“Go away.”
“I believe I shall,” the Curious Snowflake replied.
“The Great Cloud is a very big place,
so there must be someone who knows what happens when we Fall.
I shall go and find them.”
And she floated away.

The Curious Snowflake went next to the very edge of the Great Cloud,
where all the snowflakes are thin and needle-shaped,
and asked them,
“What happens when we fall?”
All the needle-shaped snowflakes gasped aloud
for no snowflake wants to talk about Falling,
leaving the Great Cloud forever,
never to return.

“Well,” answered the longest and sharpest of the needle-shaped ones,
“here at the edge of the Great Cloud we are taught that
once we touch the Ground Below
we go to the place of Stillness
where we are judged on how fast we whirled and twirled through the air.
Those who whirled the fastest and twirled the highest
remain there, in perfect stillness, forever.
But those who were not perfect are sent back to another Great Cloud
to try again, over and over, until they are perfect.
For that is the purpose of a snowflake, to whirl and twirl.

The Curious Snowflake thought about this for a moment,
and felt in her heart that it was not quite right.
“If that is true,” she said
“then why are snowflakes of all different shapes?
How well a snowflake whirls and twirls depends as much
on her shape as it does on her effort.
Can you tell me why we are all different shapes
if what you say is true?”

“You ask too many questions,” the needle-shaped snowflakes snapped,
now very cross with her.
“Go away.”
“I believe I shall,” the Curious Snowflake replied.
“The Great Cloud is a very big place,
so there must be someone who knows what happens when we Fall.
I shall go and find them.”
And she floated away.

The Curious Snowflake went next to the very bottom of the Great Cloud,
where all the snowflakes are round and pebble-shaped,
and asked them,
“What happens when we fall?”
All the pebble-shaped snowflakes gasped aloud
for no snowflake wants to talk about Falling,
leaving the Great Cloud forever,
never to return.

“Well,” answered the roundest and hardest of the pebble-shaped ones,
“here at the bottom of the Great Cloud we are taught that
once we touch the Ground Below
We are brought before the One who made both us
and the Great Cloud itself.
We are there judged on how cold we were here,
and those who are imperfect are melted by His wrath
and cast out from His presence forever.
But those found worthy are gathered into the Perfect Cloud
to stay in bliss, forever.
For that is the purpose of a snowflake, to be cold.

The Curious Snowflake thought about this for a moment,
and felt in her heart that it was not quite right.
“If that is true,” she said
“then why do some of us melt as we Fall?
Some snowflakes fall as flakes and others as raindrops.
Why do some of us fall as rain
if what you say is true?”

“You ask too many questions,” the pebble-shaped snowflakes snapped,
now very cross with her.
“Go away.”
“I believe I shall,” the Curious Snowflake replied.
“The Great Cloud is a very big place,
so there must be someone who knows what happens when we Fall.
I shall go and find them.”
And she floated away.

Curious Snowflake, Part 1

Introduction

Hello, and welcome to the Curious Snowflake blog.

Here you will find my story, "The Curious Snowflake:  A Children's Parable" in episodic form, as well as the occasional spiritual insight.  I am posting this on an open forum because I am looking for a little artistic support.  I would like a published version of Curious Snowflake to be illustrated, but I have no ability whatsoever in drawing or photography.  So if you find inspiration in what you read here, feel free to drop me a line at curioussnowflake@comcast.net with any ideas you would like to share.

Thank you, enjoy, and may you have Joy and Peace in your life.

JCS