"Loom of the Infinite" @lenawrites0 - Tumblr Blog

The walls besiege me with their silence, until they become mirrors of my solitude, and all things are stripped of their meaning. People are but a clamor passing through the world, never reaching my soul.

Nor does this newer self commend itself to me; it is as though I wear a being never hewn to the measure of my spirit. Yet meaninglessness shall not be the end of my journey; it shall abide, until I forge meaning through my own worth.

dreamyeuphory

~ Like a train, time went by...~

“No one has the right in that in which there is no right.”

“Never make truce with the devil; for he is your sworn adversary and accursed envier— and victory is wrought only in the overthrow of his enticements.”

cdx1016

Blue Sky Morning. Heavy rain blankets Cove Island at the Rise.

(viacarad1016)

"I shall don always that which I love, for I know the limits of my being."

No authority over the Spirit but God.

The spirit has withstood unceasing campaigns of repression across long years of deceit, persecution, and corruption in all their forms, and it has not permitted its essence, nor its ethics, to fall victim to psychological tyranny that holds no authority over it; nor did it confront the enemy by the same defeated methods.

At the same time, conscience remained in a state of watchfulness, awaiting authority to overstep its bounds. Yet the latter advanced each day with precise steps of profound cunning, to such a degree that the world could not ascertain their perception; and the accumulation of those steps gave rise to immense material crimes, manifest acts of infiltration, and attempts at psychological annihilation.

These subtle steps and methods of elevating the spirit were employed in inversion, transforming this very path into an instrument of ruin through selfishness and criminal corruption. Had other consciences intervened, authority would have denounced them for exaggeration, accusing them of waging war for personal motives and corrupt intent—as it itself does, yet does not condemn—while the world bears witness to the abyss of decline and the depth of corruption to which matters have come. And as observers fail to grasp the psychological consequences of witnessing injustice while doing nothing to resist it, it blinds itself to the vast psychological resonance that engulfs humanity amid this spiritual disintegration.

The war waged by authority was never merely material, but psychological in essence; its despotic influence extended through conscience, persisting in its tyrannical dominion through instruments that burden hearts and minds alike. The spirit was neither its first target nor its last, but its axis—the ground it resolved to seize. And nothing shall matter to authority so long as it continues to attain the pinnacle of material power among nations, despite its lack of merit and rightful claim from the outset. And though the illusion it has forged of its dominion—never absolute—remains but an absolute illusion, it persists in projecting the reflection of its inner frailty upon the world, blinded to the truth greater than concealment.

The spirit has borne injustice greater than any other entity throughout its history, yet it endures to this day; recounting its course, affirming its steadfastness, and manifesting the grandeur of its essence. Conscience may draw strength from it, even as it falters in intervention, while the spirit leaves no path untaken in proclaiming itself, affirming that its authenticity endures, and that justice shall not fail.

And as assaults intensify and tragedies multiply, its certainty remains steadfast in unveiling the truth of the oppression exercised by authority until its final breath. This certainty was not in itself alone, but in all consciences as well—assured that it and the consciences shall raise the truth, and that divine justice shall descend inevitably—abiding within the world, affirming that authority may be but an illusion, as it has revealed through the frailty of what it can’t have wrought in spirit.

إِنَّ عِبَادِي لَيْسَ لَكَ عَلَيْهِمْ سُلْطَانٌ (من سورة الحجر، الآية 42)

“No dominion is true without mastery of the spirit; no life is true for one who has slain his own soul.”

lenawrites0

Turning “good” into a license for evil (The gateway to self-execution)

I cannot grasp the mind that insists: having done good to one, I am thus absolved from harm toward them, for I have already done good. No soul holds the right even to conceive of injury; to presume another’s pardon is to open silent gates of war and slay conscience.

Even the gangs do not think in such base ways; they guard what honor remains, even amid countless crimes, attending to their character apart from their deeds. For who does good only to gain acceptance barters his dignity, declaring: I am flawed as I am; accept me so. I will harm, for I am too weak to change, yet I seek your acceptance—accept me corrupt as I am, for this is my truth.

Yet they scarcely perceive the depth of the psychological truth; they call their insecurity and weakness “cunning” or “a way to cope,” when in truth it is but slow self-destruction, veiled as the reality they must endure.

Thus such states multiply, as the individual remains blind to his depths, unexamined in his psyche, his ethics, and his duties toward self and others.

Yet time alone remains—all that we possess—the sole means by which each may reach his true self and complete it in full measure.

lenawrites0

This is not confined to whether one knows the person they deal with or not, nor is it confined to a single circumstance, for circumstances are manifold while the principle remains one. No individual may perform good with a corrupt intent, nor may good serve as a prelude to evil, nor may virtue be reserved for wicked purposes—absolutely. Such conduct strikes at the very ethics of the spirit and the souls themselves, including the greatest victim: the self, reducing it to moral and psychological annihilation. And what, then, of those who, in multitude, conspire in the commission of such abhorrent transgressions?

The Paradox of Being: The Father–Daughter Bond.

When the daughter enters the hall of examination, the father stands powerless to partake in that hour; a subtle, hidden weight crushes them. Yet they remain steadfast—watching over her each day, assured of her full lucidity and readiness.

The trial belongs solely to her, and the measure it bestows is hers to claim; in that moment, the other possesses nothing but silent supplication.

On the other side, she seeks not to burden the other’s mind, but to be the source of their highest dignity and noblest esteem. Nor is it easy to fathom the depth of a sensitive soul’s sorrow, when she sees the other distressed for her—constrained from fulfilling their duty fully on her account—she who desires for them nothing but goodness and love.

In their mutual recognition of each other’s pain, neither allows the other to behold weakness. Each toils alone, striving to render their triumph true—the one mastering themselves, the other, in the majesty of exalting the other’s achievement, (An Integrated, Direct, and Inverse Relation).

And in this convergence of diligence and devotion, where honor embraces fidelity, the soul attains its loftiest, most exalted joy.

finaphoto-blog

Wild stallions in Bosnia, September 2015, Day 3

Where Reason Yields: The Comedy of Bus Rides

1- Today, I witnessed an old man boarding the bus; his body showed no sign of frailty. Yet, as he ascended, he struck the foot of a young girl with force, offered no apology, and moved to his seat—as if his eyes had failed him.

Moments later, he dropped an object near her feet. He snapped his fingers—harshly, abruptly—to summon her attention and retrieve what had fallen. The girl did not look at him as he did so, yet she perceived him; though her gaze was elsewhere, he was not beyond the reach of her insight. When their eyes met, she responded—not with words, but with a refusal of undeniable weight, a moral and symbolic expression surpassing speech. He understood instantly, claiming he only meant to be seen—yet his tone betrayed him. While she saw with insight beyond his comprehension, he cast his blindness upon her, revealing how the projection of one’s faults grows with the erosion of health.

2- In the second scene, a woman arrived late, instructing the bus driver to wait a moment, in hope that her companion would catch up. Once both boarded, she declared the seats gone, before surveying the bus. The driver pointed to an empty spot at the front; she refused, as if she had never wished to sit. How then could she declare the seats gone?

As she declined the offered seat, a young man relinquished his place, and she took it. Then she informed the driver that the spot now suited her, somewhere amid the middle or rear of the bus. Perhaps it was mere personal preference, beyond my concern; yet I remain puzzled: how was her awareness betrayed twice, despite her youth, vigor, and apparent health?

“Temptation wounds deeper than the sword: the sword rends flesh, temptation rends soul.”

The Dialectic of Humanity (Adrift Amid Words)

Terms have grown confounded; humanity withdrew within them, and became a word more uttered than understood. All now revolves around it—around its attainment—yet its very name stands uncertain in its origin.

We see the ant labor each day to aid its brethren in gathering sustenance without return, yet scarcely do we see a human extend a hand without return, save for fleeting days.

For all creation was brought forth upon a single nature: the nature of faith. It has been obscured beneath the shadow of other notions, confined to a narrow religious interpretation, though it is the primal origin and the final end.

Yet it persists in manifestation—in love of the Creator, of the cosmos, of the self, and in all that the soul bears of nobility and virtue. Vast as this term is, it cannot be rendered justice by speech; and in its neglect, humanity has wandered between the truth of humanity and the truth of faith. Can you discern between them?

Humanity is the field of choice and trial, endowed with the craft of mind and the strength of heart, that one may ascend to the measure of his faith—either to preserve himself or to undo himself. As terms multiply and mislead, so do questions; therein lies the trial of human choice.

The aim has ever been to reach the utmost of spiritual faith—whose breadth no word has encompassed, nor shall encompass, for its perfection. And behold, have you ever considered the weight of losing a being set apart from all other beings?

Turning “good” into a license for evil (The gateway to self-execution)

I cannot grasp the mind that insists: having done good to one, I am thus absolved from harm toward them, for I have already done good. No soul holds the right even to conceive of injury; to presume another’s pardon is to open silent gates of war and slay conscience.

Even the gangs do not think in such base ways; they guard what honor remains, even amid countless crimes, attending to their character apart from their deeds. For who does good only to gain acceptance barters his dignity, declaring: I am flawed as I am; accept me so. I will harm, for I am too weak to change, yet I seek your acceptance—accept me corrupt as I am, for this is my truth.

Yet they scarcely perceive the depth of the psychological truth; they call their insecurity and weakness “cunning” or “a way to cope,” when in truth it is but slow self-destruction, veiled as the reality they must endure.

Thus such states multiply, as the individual remains blind to his depths, unexamined in his psyche, his ethics, and his duties toward self and others.

Yet time alone remains—all that we possess—the sole means by which each may reach his true self and complete it in full measure.

Perfection bears its own forms.

If the cow yields milk, why does the wolf not?—for it is set to watch the herbivores, lest they consume all that grows. If the sky releases rain, why does the sun not?—for it is bound to spread light and gladness. Yet each of these beings holds an original charge in the balance of all things. And if one of them were spirit—would it question why it is cow, wolf, sky, or sun?

Yet the human mind inclines to question this; it fixes its gaze upon what it does not possess. One desires the work of another, another the attire of another, unaware whether it accords with the self at all. Thus appears the mark of blind imitation: one dyes their hair in the likeness of a favored figure, though it ill befits them, persuading themselves of its worth by the force of attachment. In such a case—has one chosen the self, or the other? I do not claim certainty; for even the figure imitated—was that a choice, or another imitation?

The fault lies not in imitation alone, but in blindness within it: one no longer discerns what is desired, but seeks the life and form of another. Can one imagine a sheep ruling wolves?—what a dissonant image. This is not to rank one being above another; I, for one, incline toward the gentleness of sheep over the ferocity of wolves, though I am drawn to all living things. Rather, it is to affirm that each holds a distinct station: none may enact the charge of another, nor bear what was not theirs.

What suits one does not suit another; it is relative, not fixed. To accept one’s state is to accept what one has sought and wrought—nothing beyond. If one is not content, one has not striven; and if one has not striven, one shall not be content.

Imitation is not participation. Participation is a true bond, not a woven illusion: it is the sharing of love, of giving, of fidelity. Even the wearing of a beloved’s garment is a form of embrace. Every gathering upon what is pure is participation; every gathering upon what is base is imitation. Why?

Because the human being is endowed with the faculty to discern right from wrong, yet wanders at times, subject to influence. Among them are those who labored and endured, resolute upon the rightful path; and among them are those who persist upon a desolate course, in scorn. Both paths are human choice; and thus every end a human form attains—this is the true self. And in the true self lies true contentment, beyond doubt.

No—pressure yields only that which you elect in the end; so tell me: will you choose to erupt, or to transcend?

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"Loom of the Infinite"