Etherealsphere

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one

When the brain converts ethereal energy into words and writing, we manifest into the material world what we are dreaming in our mind. ~Don Miguel Ruiz

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Location: Kamas, Utah, United States

Friday, February 27, 2009

From "The Big Glow" ~ Welcoming Words

On the surface of the world right now there is war and violence and things seem dark
But calmly and quietly, at the same time, something else is happening underground
An inner revolution is taking place and certain individuals are being called to a higher light
It is a silent revolution
From the inside out
From the ground up
You won't see us on the T.V.
You won't read about us in the newspaper
You won't hear about us on the radio
We don't seek any glory
We don't wear any uniform
We come in all shapes and sizes, colors and styles
Most of us work anonymously
We are quietly working behind the scenes in every country and culture of the world
Cities big and small, mountains and valleys, in farms and villages, tribes and remote islands
You could pass by one of us on the street and not even notice
We go undercover
We remain behind the scenes
It is of no concern to us who takes the final credit
But simply that the work gets done
Occasionally, we spot each other in the street
We give a quiet nod and continue on our way so no one will notice
During the day many of us pretend we have normal jobs
But behind the false storefront, at night is where the real work takes place
Some call us the 'Conscious Army'
We are slowly creating a new world with the power of our minds and hearts
We follow, with passion and joy our orders from the Central Command, The Spiritual Intelligence Agency
We are dropping soft, secret love bombs when no one is looking:
Poems
Hugs
Music
Photography
Movies
Kind words
Smiles
Meditation and prayer
Dance
Social activism
Websites
Blogs
Random acts of kindness
Our work is slow and meticulous
Like the formation of mountains
It is not even visible at first glance
And yet with it...entire tectonic plates shall be moved in the centuries to come. Love is the new religion of the 21st century. You don't have to be a highly educated person. Or have any exceptional knowledge to understand it. It comes from the intelligence of the heart. Embedded in the timeless evolutionary pulse of all human beings. Be the change you want to see in the world. Nobody else can do it for you. We are now recruiting. Perhaps you will join us. Or already have....
The door is open
All are welcome...

from 'The Big Glow' by Brian Piergrossi
http://thebigglow.com/
Thank you Brian

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Lost Innocence

My son is 15 years old. When he was in grade school he was friends with a boy that for some reason always pulled at my heart. I liked him from the first time that I met him. He was kind, with a slightly titled smile. He would chuckle at my jokes and actually got my wry sense of humor. Just like my son. He was also small like my son was at that age. My son has now outgrown my height. I don’t know if his friend has also grown. I haven’t seen him for over a year now. I don’t know if he would still chuckle. I don’t know if he even smiles. Him and my son stopped hanging out when they entered High School. I was sad to see this happen. At the beginning of the school this year, my son became a sophomore. His friend didn’t. His friend is no longer in school. This child I watched grow up is now living transient between a couple of houses in the area. Houses that are filled with other youth who offer him a safe haven to openly escape through drugs. His best friend is now a pipe. It hurts to see him in my minds eye. But see him I do. I see him walking down the road, his back turned towards me, hair cascading to his waist. His pants hung low, his chin titled down. I see him crashed into worn cushions in a curtain less room. His hand dangling at the side with a glass pipe lying on the floor beneath his fingers. Eyes glossy, consciousness in a realm I can’t or don’t know how to enter. I see this little boy and I see my own son. And, although I can glimpse the man my son will grow into, for now, he is still a boy. Just as his friend is still a boy. I want to reach out to him. To touch his face and cusp it in my palms. To pull him into my arms and hold him next to my heart. To tell him that he is not alone and that he matters to me. I want to tell him how much I love him. How my heart is breaking to see him this way. How my chest aches with sadness. How sorrow sinks into my very soul. But I can’t touch him this way. He is on the brink of manhood. Even as I sense his longing to be held he struggles between being the young adult and the child. However, even if I can’t pull him into my embrace, I can still hold him with my heart. I can still reach him through my love. I can wrap my blessings and my desires for him into one of my arrows. The grandest arrow I have ever created. I can shoot this arrow into his energetic being. I can infuse him and surround him with the intention and the purest form of love that I am capable of. And for each boy I see with his back towards me I will send another arrow. Each time I look upon my own sons face, I will send him an arrow. Each morning as I awake and before I go to bed I will wonder where he is sleeping and I will send him an arrow. Each time I sit down for dinner with my son across from me I will wonder if he is eating and I will send him an arrow. I will send my love until he turns his face towards me. I will send my love until he allows me to touch him. And when he is ready, my last arrow will be blazing to light his way back home.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

A Thousand Points of Light

Crescent of the moon shines above
A sliver of light illuminating her curve
A thousand points of light overhead
Heart beating, blood flowing, lungs rising
A single flame catches eye, quickens my pulse
Pulling me closer, drawing so near
Rhythm combine, pull of remembrance
Crystal light shines, radiance in pure form
Return to innocence, to light, to loves true embrace