‘Oh, the animating
forces. And the paths from which it courses…’
On a ten miler this morning, I ran past by a hedge of wild flowers;
what I shall call wild daisies. Three of them. Yellow and multi-pedaled, lively
and bright, dancing in the breeze. They were large; four inches across. And
they smiled at me. So… over my right shoulder, I smiled back. My soul grinned.
During the next couple miles, the cheery countenance of my
natural friends had me musing in and out of rhymes I can no longer recall. Brilliantly
constructed; the words, that is. Like the flowers. That’s what my memory
recollects. Yes, I often think I should have a pad and pen at the ready for such times.
For the common observer, it is the artist and painter and
poet and her abilities to bring energy and passion to their subject. The poet
brings to life the flowers in his poem through crafted words and rhymes and
Animation is Spirit. God’s creations; those of insentient nature,
contain the animating forces for man to benefit and be enlightened from. Here
is the evidence of the substance hoped for and unseen. Unseen or quite obvious, as
We are designed and intended to receive the divine wisdom of
life through the animating forces. They permeate all that is around us. The
artists have their muses. The common man has his deities and his daisies. Or
whatever might look like either. It really does not matter. It simply is,
Where the animating forces mingle, time stops. The wind
ceases. The suffering subsides. Love radiates in the vibrance of pure energy.
Separate from the illusion and pain of the intellectual world, the animators set
free from bondage the lightness of the soul. The bars dissolve into the space between.
“There is a great and
present need to debestialize and emancipate the intellect. To foster and free
the instinct of individuality.” R. H. Conwell
After ten miles, my right heel throbs with the pains of
plantar fasciitis. It is not suffering, I repeatedly remind myself… in animated
artistry with frozen water bottle… creatively rolling with relief under said arch.
This is really why I run. The elements animate me. After 50,000 miles, I'm just figuring it out. How re-assuring! ;)
Here's a stream of thought and consciousness that came through yesterday, as a result of my UBER experiences, recent immersion into all-things-spiritual and the continuation of moving forward... into the now...right where I stand.
To "empty the emptiness"...
Don't attempt that on an empty stomach... or heart! lol
And if you do not have just the right word to communicate a feeling or point of view... well, coin one! Because
"The human spirit and spirituality manifests itself
forms and fashions.
This includes disruptive technologies that can illuminate
referring to an individual from a
group/demographic of consumers;
and irrespective of race, religion, gender, education and age.
The Dawning of the Fluorescent Capitalism Era...
(Photo Courtesy of Hans/Pixabay)
Consumption patterns are guided by the
Advance passage from: Message of the Spider A Gift of Webs & Divine
Gary Mark Lesley
Prologue “Time to get Productive” 24May, 2012; Burnsville, MN I had a spider in my ear. -And I didn’t even know it. I had realized, however, that it was
time to get moving; literally. Entering the attached garage, I switched the last of the interior lights off on my 5000’ stucco rambler. After 21 years, the distinctive teal-shuttered house now stood dark and empty, matching the four-in-the-morning sky. The exterior architectural lighting accentuated the façade of a now-vacated vessel. With a load-out reminiscent of
my first collegiate journey to Mankato State some 40 years prior, the CTS sedan was dutifully packed
and stacked. I’d carved out a small space in the back for Keeli; my Aussie
Dingo. I was not traveling alone. A picture of Jesus and my Talking ELMO sat
atop duffle bags on the front seat. We were embarking on this southern trek to
North Carolina as a team. Leaving behind a rented 10 x 10
storage space with the majority of my library, clothes and collectibles, I shipped four boxes
via UPS to my 1000' rented townhome. I was starting life again at a
refreshingly simplified level. My personal property
and belongings had been gifted to family, sold-off, Goodwilled, garage-saled,
e-Bayed, Craigs-listed, or taken to the dump. For over a year, I had
been executing what I referred to as ‘Strategic De-construction’;
physically, psychologically and spiritually. Backing out of the garage, I
hit the homelink button and guided the CTS with my supporting trinity down the long concrete drive. Onto Burnsville Parkway
one final time, with no contentious traffic, I verbally spoke the words "Door is down" as a part of my standard departing checklist, referring to the visual confirmation of the closed garage door . A carry-over pilot thing, for sure. I had prepared myself for that moment knowing it would be
hard. Actually, it wasn't. Numerous late-night
sessions with the backyard fire pit proved to be therapeutic. Ceremoniously
transforming meaningful letters, photographs and old mementos into heat, flame,
light and ashes were an effective emotional release. I re-discovered what I
needed most in my heart. My home was coming with me. My True Home...
I had accepted a promising-albeit-risky position with a
start-up bio-tech in Charlotte. I would be directing the commercialization of
biomimetic spider silk; the Holy Grail of innovative fiber technology and
an undeniable game-changer.
With it, I would lead the
mission to make the world a better place. I had felt the proverbial wisp of a
gossamer thread across my face. I had to see just where it would lead me. Right into
Charlotte's Web... Among the small number of books
and notepads I was bringing, the collection of my musings entitled "Gossamer Trails" was to prove prophetic.
I had envisioned a place that was more metaphor than reality; framed in
physical attributes and filled with spiritual components. A path of sorts I
felt myself trekking along. A place made less of personality and more of
spirit. More inside than out. Miraculously, my ‘Walden Pond’ was to be discovered 100
yards directly behind my townhome; only a tree line and barely discernable
footpath away. There; down along the geologically ancient Catawba Creek, I came
across my Gossamer Trail…I discovered
a portal to the inner world that had awaited my new homecoming.
With a greater awareness when I
ran or walked those woods, I acclimated to copperheads, hellacious fire-ants
and black widows. In fact, I captured a beauty of a Latrodectus Mactans that we
put to work in the duty of serving our own military and the program to develop
improved protective fabrics. She was respectfully enlisted to provide DNA for transgenic spider silk production.
The stint with the start-up
endured for about a year. The science, biology and physics of spider silk
coupled with the inspiring traits of this class of animal (Arachnids) that produce it strongly resonated within my
helped secure a government contract with the Army for the R&D of spider
silk and enhanced ballistic-protective fabrics before parting company. After a
year and a half of some security consulting work, I found myself upon the Gossamer Trail with a broadened outlook;
drawn to the intrinsic connectivity of people, nature and spirituality.
Three years and a week; from
the long, dark driveway in Burnsville… 30 May, 2015; Gastonia, NC
Sitting behind the wheel of the
16’ Budget rental truck, the side-view mirror confirmed the CTS,
secured on its trailer rig; hitched up and ready for the free ride back. Displaying the
same MY SONG Minnesota license plates I had traveled down with, I felt more like a witness to the journey; anxious to once more, be
in-state. It was time to return north; to the ‘Land of Sky Blue Waters.’
All’s good, I reminded myself. Again. I had advanced along the Gossamer Trail. I knew
in my heart I had helped guide the future of spider silk onto its own
course where it would reduce injuries and save lives. Now, I stood ready for
the next challenge the universe had in store for me. A different format
and approach had re-energized my desire to pursue a book project; spinning
forward and upward - with a message about personal productivity, sustainable prosperity and
authentic peace… And no fear.
A Message of the Spider…
Keeli and I both knew the
road-trip drill. She got the front seat with me this time; a promotion well-earned
for her patience all the times I dawdled and mused along the trail. “Some Dog” would someday be her web
epitaph. Jesus and ELMO got the recliner inside the truck. And once more, I sensed a
small, still voice. Resolute, my hearing was sharper now. My soul was
intuitively moving pastwhere
my five senses had brought me. I had discovered my ‘eight eyes’. The Portals to
Heaven were more apparent. With growing frequency, they appeared everywhere,
like personal rainbows or moonbeams. I was more purposefully
total of my states of consciousness.’
I had to find my voice… release
it and share it. It was the destiny of my choosing. The spider had dropped from my
ear during that last walk along the creek… My inner ear discerned a new and
sacred note; ringing with the harmony of my spiritual wind chimes. Now I could ‘see’ her
work among the stars that early morning in Gastonia. Silky threads of gossamer
connecting pin-points of light; hushly illuminated by the One who
connects all. The Web of Life had framed
a new dawn across the Carolina sky; strung brilliantly by the Divine Wisdom of Nature. Thirty hours, 1400 miles and
six states later, an 1100 day journey would spiral inward. To a new epicenter... We were back.