Dear Anias,

My recognition of the cost kept me up last night. I walked my fingertips through the ashes, and the white bedding was streaked by grey. I washed everything. My feet. The red tiles. Windows. Glass decanter. Ganesha’s stone. I used a linen cloth to dust and discovered coffee grounds in the carpet. They are not mine.

What does it cost an artist to create, Anias?

I read that Edgar Allen Poe was discovered in a ditch. Liver failure. Drowning. Caught in the swamps of sadness. He lived by means of his work. He wrote and was compensated for his words. He lived for and through his craft. Am I willing to go to this length to develop myself?

The Adventure Begins.

So last night, as I was lying in bedding (freshly washed) and looked up at the ceiling, I couldn’t see a thing because the lights were off, and the room was stark dark when the sun went down. I know the smudge of charcoal is on the ceiling. I burnt the wand too close to the wood, and I’ve used a scrubber brush and soap and the stain will not be removed.

Amanda says that ‘So It iS’ in an incantation. A blessing between you and the Divine.

Did she say that? I can’t remember.

Who said it? Does it matter? no, not really.

So I'm laying in bed examining the stain in my mind's eye, not with my physical eye, and a thought came to me through a voice that was not my own. 

Concentration is the key to creating a world; you must let go of this realm to produce a narrative of this depth. 

The writers I rever disappeared for a time to develop their voices and construct characters to act out the ethical predicaments in question. I have not made this advancement. 

I've read so many wonderful Russian novels and lengthy trilogies that stir the soul! I've never contemplated the undertaking of building such a realm, such a fantastic reality, for the reader. A new language, a love story, a tragedy. A life. 

There are so many things I must do in a day and my only task is to keep minimizing. Make the world I see so much smaller so I can go deeper inside to visit with what wants to weave its way out!

The out and up; I have been in this place the entire time only what was coming up was not concentrated. 

I do not fully know how to hold my attention to one thing. I am learning. I do not have the skill of strong awareness in me just yet. 

I know this through my yoga practice; how long I can hold specific postures shows me where I lack and where I am lazy. Where my commitment wavers. 

Can I be as the moon and wax and wane with my work? Or do I need to be the sun and allow the cycles to occur around me? Burn brilliant as the start that never averts its gaze! The moon winks back; the sun glares until the outside moves. I want to be burnt! I will use my passion to fuel this ferocious energy- this unwavering dedication to my work! 

What helps me align in the writing rhythms depends on the day. Hence, the wink. 

Blink-blink-blink goes the line. 

I've never had writer's block. I've never lacked words or a rhythm. My handicap is my determination to see a character through a scene and elaborate on a larger dilemma. 

Pretty without purpose is the main feedback I've received in my person, which touches everything I do. 

Must a sacrifice be made to elevate in one specific area? How can I hold all of BOTH, as Douglas Brooks says? I don't want to let go of anything! Krishna is all of it; the light and dark, the beauty and boredom, the masculine and feminine.

Why can't I be all of it, Anias? I want to live fully, to go out into the world of things and explore the textures before I wither and fade into the white blanket. 

I want to shake the trees until the leaves turn into blue butterflies. 

I want to drink the coffee until I am sweet as milk.

I want to fast until I become the source of my longing, for hunger teaches us how to live! Wanting is a way to the heart's truth and the day I give up my desire is the death do us part!

The Bhagavad Gita says that the way to recieve God is through non-attachment. Surrendering the self entirely to the one source without attachment to the outcome.

If I do this, Anias, I will be free of attempting to sacrifice or hold both to fulfill my desire to write. 

Concentration is simple if I focus on the Goddess/Him/Krishna/Universal Consciousness/Source.

Call it by the name you prefer. 

If I do this, it is a meditation of surrender. It is a devotional practice of doing my daily duties and delivering them through a natural inclination to produce. 

So where is my lack, Anias? Through this method, there is no obstacle. I cannot sit still and write for long periods without wanting to leap out of the wooden chair and move my body! I respond to this willingly; my mat is laid down and the wand is waiting to catch fire!

All I need to do is strike the match and strip my current garments for something suitable to practice.

If Brahma has four faces, so do I.

There is really only one conversation to be having. 

The faces of Lord Brahma, God of Creation, represent the four Vedas.

Jung acknowledged four aspects of the self: the persona, the shadow, the anima/animus, and the self. 

The persona is the mask you wear in society, the ego. 

The shadow is our collective unconscious, desires and dreams. 

The anima/animus is the masculine and feminine energies. 

The self is the self-actualized human spirit, the soul. 

This is only relevant if you want it to be. As is everything we encounter in life. I make the meaning, and whatever I delete is important to recognize and what I choose to keep. I don't speak to many people, and the in-between moments to myself are where the voice comes and speaks through me. I don't hear it; I feel it.

A being was in my room last night. Perhaps because I washed everything, it's clean save for that smudge on the wall. Usually, when the spirits visit, I wrap myself like a burrito in the blankets. I tip my face up and assemble a little hole to breathe. 

What a stupid thing to do. All these years avoiding myself. And what to make of it? Confront the spirits. Don't label them good or bad, godly or demonic. This is a child's play at understanding the universe. 

Krisha reveals himself and he is magnanimous and hideous! We all are. 

I'm going to end this note sooner than I usually do because I need to bathe and brush and go to the cafe. I can't stand it here, being so clean! I have a headache from lack of caffeine, Anias, which is causing my hands to sweat. 

Perhaps Edgar chose that ditch. Of course, he did. There are no accidents. There are no coincidences. 

Oh, but what did the spirits say?

To receive their message, I flung the blankets back and took my arms to my breast and belly. I breathed deeply and let the fear enter my body. Inhale, exhale; I listened to my life moving inside and outside my body. The struggle for life soothes the fear, and soon enough, even without the blankets, I felt warm and comfortable.

The energy was concentrated on my right side. It usually takes that place on the opposite side of my heart. I reached my palms out to the tips of the mattress. 

Well! I said with all my might, what do you want!? 

Concentration is the key to creating a world; you must let go of this realm to produce a narrative of this depth. 

And So It Is.

Photo source.