I write a creative work. Its dissemination to the population is fractioned into the pieces of the parts of the people that ‘see’. The aspect of ‘this and that’ that they relate to, or can’t relate, is relative to the place of opening they have into the awareness of their soul. The intuitive faculty is skewed, masked, distorted by the sort of things that distract everything. Materialism. Not simple consumerism, but simply, attachment ~ ‘life-living’, as if the world as viewed from your two eyes is the thing most important to address. As if this is your life.

Life begins when you enter the realm of consciousness and then come into the body. The senses capture your attention and thus, attached, the ego rises to take its state, its place, as the ‘soul’, being the pseudo-soul. This false one claims to be birthed.

For those who care and dare to return themselves to a higher state of intuitive faculty, the journey to ‘there’ is the reverse of how you got ‘here’. Back up to the flying stork from whence you came ~ raising your Self through the chakra centres and into the spiritual eye. The single one. This is the place of true life. Not every person is prepared, or ready, to begin that journey back. They are wherever they are on their road of evolution until the final revolution back to soul, back to Spirit, where we will all return in our own time.

Along the while, fragments of us see glimpses of ourselves that remind us of who we are. We get excited by this mystery, synchronicity, intrigue, thinking we are unique in our special powers. Yes, our power is unique, and each carries their own box of gifts within, to express, but our uniqueness is ‘common’ to all, as we all possess it. This capture of random or self-sought insights is mighty pleasing, but much stands between these few or frequent glitzes of stardom and the truth of understanding. When we seek words or works that stimulate our ego or intellect, but hold no worth to the uplifting of consciousness through connection to the soul, they are only another temporary measure of attachment that leaves us fractioned. Less whole, by the ups and downs of life, wearing and tearing gaps in our wholesome golden web of complete Self.

One must become determined to seek the truth. Regardless of obstacle, without a desired outcome, except to see the exceptional face of its essence.  When that search is made to please, the Divinity comes to seize the moment. It demonstrates a quake. A crumbling of the horrific hindrance held by intellect that holds little or ill respect for intuition, the soul, from which it is ultimately and intentionally designed to get its guidance. Yes, the soul speaks. It sleeps in many, held captive by the senses that embody its beauty into flesh and shhh it into a silent death. But in time, the time for dreaming and scheming is over. Man becomes true to his Self. The golden creativity comes forth within him and he is flurried with ‘works’ that he can express from this single place of truth. He leaves his body bare to step into his illuminated ‘skin’. Back to where he started. With all his pieces intact. Into his divine birthday suit.