Tag Archives: life

A Beautiful Life


I see God as a Creator entity and, as such, one that is reflected somewhat in myself, since I, also, am a creator.

After I create things, I am often fascinated by how they take on a life of their own.

As a creator, I have a nebulous idea of what it is I want to create, and as I work with that idea I can see where things are going and how they will pan out.

As you may know from previous essays I’ve written with a subject of God in them, I view all Creation as having been thought of and emerged from God’s Mind.  For me, God dreams, or God thinks, the Cosmos into being.  And we, as elements of those Cosmos, are also thought into being.

Using the ‘As Above, So Below‘ motto, and its vice versa – God is a Creator like me, and I am a creator, too – it’s moot to think that God also only has a nebulous idea about what It wants to create, and just works with ideas and sees how they pan out.

I believe that God, too, is absolutely fascinated in how what It creates takes on a life of it’s own.

If you’re wondering how such a thing would manifest, then think on how we humans each assess artworks differently, or read novels with widely varying points of view or assumptions.

Often, the artist or writer doesn’t even have the observer’s ideas or feelings about their work, but will still be fascinated to know these interesting results, which represent how the work has taken on a life of it’s own.

When I am creating a work, and still have my hand on it, the work can begin to take on a life of it’s own even before I have finished – and that is not always a ‘good‘ thing.

Sometimes, that is not a direction I really want my work to be taking.  Or perhaps it is just not ‘coming to life‘ in the way I wanted it to.

This is also how ‘bad‘ things can happen in a Universe that God created – not because God intentionally made them that way, but because once the work was created, it took on a life of it’s own.

For me, then, if the piece I am working on does not feel quite right, I tend to add a bit more (rather than ‘take away’) and suddenly the piece feels ‘good’.  

This can be as simple as placing a couple of dots near the corner of a person’s eye in their portrait, that turn a flat stare into a character ‘twinkle‘.  Or it can be the addition of a few words to a written paragraph, that turns an obscure thought into a clarified one.

Taking away and cleaning up are not always the solutions to a brilliant outcome.  Sometimes, addition is the key.  You just have to consider what it is that needs to be added.

Perhaps, like myself, when things don’t seem to be working for God, It also adds elements in the hope of a better result.

I think God adds elements far more often than it ever ‘cleans up‘ or ‘takes away‘, though of course those modes are also possible.  Let’s face it, God is not only the Creator but also the Destroyer.  What God brings into being, God can take away, as the saying goes.  But if you look at the extreme variety of creatures manifested on Earth, alone, and then consider that this extreme variety is probably manifested in the many layers of dimensions and the multiple realities of world upon world, then God appears to have been very busy at adding elements.

Now, as an artist, I know that there are times when an artwork doesn’t seem to be working out, no matter what I do to it – especially with certain types of materials.  Like an oil painting – there is only so much you can do to fix an oil painting before it becomes obvious that you just have to give up on what you were trying to ‘bring through‘ and paint over the whole shebang.

It’s possible, even probable, that God has painted over shebangs many times in It’s existence.  But if you consider that It is a Being who really likes to fix things, and has aeons long history of adding elements, far more than taking them away, then this poses a picture where God is working like mad as a Creator to make ‘bad‘ things ‘good‘ right now.

In our lives, there are often times when ‘bad‘ things don’t seem ever able to be made ‘good‘.  You do everything you can, just so you have covered every possible action or mode, and they still don’t seem to work out.

In modern times, the common mode in such cases is to ‘walk away‘ from such things and begin again without them.  But in my case, and I believe this is God‘s case, too, even as I feel I have to put up with such scenarios while I am unable to do much about them, my mind and heart is constantly working behind the scenes on possible solutions, and waiting for an opportunity to arise to try them out.

For God, this has precedence.  In many spiritual scriptures of varying faiths, there are often stories related to ‘dark times’ or times when nothing could be done against what seemed to be a surge of ‘evil‘ in the world – but God knew that the laws of physical reality meant that all moves in cycles, and that change was inevitable.  So all God had to do was wait things out and eventually things would change enough so that God could insert those solution elements and move It’s Creation into happier states of existence.

You can tell that I don’t align with a God force as defined in some scriptures, that feels a need to destroy the world as payback to an erring human race.

My God simply doesn’t need to do that.  It knows very well that humankind is a blink in the reality of Time, and all It needs is to wait and something else will eventually replace them, if It really felt that way about them.  Which I also don’t believe since, as a Creator, God loves all Its creations.  And that is something I know of, too, as an artist.

Good‘ or ‘bad‘, maybe I don’t like some pieces as much as others, but every piece I create has an element of me in it and a piece of my heart.  Which is why when one doesn’t work out, I try so hard to fix it.

When it comes to life situations, especially with other people, I have long had similar modes.  I invest a piece of my heart in every relationship I have been intimate with.

(That intimacy is just the closeness I felt, and the modes of opening up that I had with those people, not necessarily sexual).

And when those relationships become ‘troubled‘ or go ‘up end‘, my artist self tries very hard to fix things (sometimes with more passion and noise than people can take, but that’s the artist in me – my ‘force of nature’).

The trouble is that in some relationships, or in some circumstances, the fixing seems so impossible that a sense of suffering sets in.

I find myself wondering why the other person can’t see things differently, or is not willing to try different modes – because I can clearly see solutions and possibilities, and I don’t understand why they are giving up – especially when the heart has been involved.

I find it hard to understand how people can ‘hurt your heart’ so much, when they said and showed they cared.

So when such things happen, I go through extreme ‘gut churns’, sometimes for a very long time.

My mind finds it hard to let go, and I re-examine every ince of the circumstances, over and over, to try to find out why and what exactly happened.

That mode, again, is the artist in me, trying to make things better.  But it’s a painful experience, and if I dwell in those modes too long they can undermine me – especially where no solutions are possible at the time, or even in the forseeable future.

Sometimes, all you can do is let go and move on with your life.

I know this seems to be easy for modern humans, especially those of younger generations, these days, but this mode has never been easy for me, nor for others of my generation who were brought up to believe in making the best of things, in recycling things rather than throwing them out, and in taking pride in the craftsmanship of making things work.

Ultimately, if I dwell in such modes for too long, it is I who needs healing.  My spirit becomes assailed by the sense of hopelessness, ostracization, and rejection, even when there is so much else going on in my life and so many others who bring blessings with them.  The artist in me just hates letting go.

Luckily, I am also a healer, and I can heal myself.  It does take focus and effort, though, because these painful modes of not giving up are well embedded.  But with greater effort and some ritual, I am able to realign.

You can probably tell at this stage that I have been undergoing some very painful experiences in my life for a while now.

Like God, I have not been still whilst such things are going on, but have continued to ply my life and be creative, as always.

Fact is, as pain became more resident, my creativity has stepped up.  That creator part of me has been madly trying to restore beauty and wonder and magic in my life, and to fix the ongoing problems causing the pain, even if certain elements are still not ‘coming to the party‘ any more.  But despite my best efforts and an outflow of creative manifestation, the ‘gut churns’ kept coming, and I kept having moments of utter misery.

Now, looking at God, again, imagine that this Creator is also feeling utterly miserable because no matter what It does to try to fix things, or how much artistic creation is added to the equation, what It wants to fix is simply unable to be fixed at this stage.

God being miserable?  That’s a new concept, isn’t it?  But it’s a thought that popped into my mind as I was doing my special rituals to help myself, recently.

I have been intensifying my mantras and prayers, and doing deep meditation and ‘sending‘ in order to heal others and the world around me – because I really seemed unable to heal what was happening in my own life, with others I was once close to.

So I thought, I will just create my own world, bring the type of world I enjoy living in into being, and will send out joy into the world to make it a happier place, and will send out love and compassion into the world to help all beings be happy.

These are, of course, bottom line tenets of buddhism, taoism, and vedism.  But my prayers have intensified, and the results felt very good.

I’m not sure what is happening in the greater world, or with the others who caused so much pain but are no longer in my life, but in my immediate environment things have become lighter and more joyful, and the people I live and work with are happier.

There are some who visit me in spirit when I do these mantras and meditations, including some who died this year, who were part of the pain and trouble.  I realized that they came because of the intensity of love and healing being emitted, and because that emission encompassed all beings, everywhere, and on every level of reality, including theirs.  And I hope that they will be healed and can move on to a better state of existence.

While I cannot honestly forgive what they did, I am aware that all beings are fallible.  In a creative universe, how could that not be so?  Because flaws are part of the beauty of all Art.

So I am able to move on, and even while I may not forgive what happened I can put it in context and thereby put it aside as just being part of the processes of existence.

What surprised me during these rituals was that I found myself not only taking in the world and it’s creatures, and humankind, but also the supernatural levels, the gods, goddesses, and angels.

It struck me that forgiveness and mercy is not something that can ever be fully resident anywhere so long as people so completely classify and categorize and outcast those who have erred – and the supernatural ‘fallen‘ have been classified thus for aeons.

Perhaps, as in my own feelings toward others who ‘did me wrong‘, forgiveness is not always possible, but accommodation is.

If we are All elements stemming from the One being, or God, then ignoring or making outcast of any other element so completely is like an amputation.

Even though amputations may sometimes seem the best solution to a physical body, amputees can attest that a ‘phantom‘ remains, that keeps connecting to the missing part.

If so, then so long as we simply try to cut out such unwanted people or entities from our lives, as if they no longer belong, we will always be ‘haunted‘ by their ‘phantoms.’

I believe that even if an entity does need to be permanently removed, it should still  be treated with respect and consideration, because it is still another natural element of God’s existence.

Associate that mode with body parts, and think of yourself as the mouth and the one you want to get rid of as the arsehole.  The mouth may not want to kiss the arsehole, but it acknowledges that the arsehole has a purpose and belongs to the same body.

The trouble, however, in most cases of exile, appears to come not from the separation so much as the ongoing propaganda and slander, that sends curses through the ether to the amputated.

This is how we cultivate rebounding effects.  Because just as there is power in positive thinking, there is also power in negative thinking.

Every time we focus on the ‘bad‘ things or people in our lives, or that were once in our lives, we align to ‘bad‘ feelings.  That is the same ‘phantom‘ effect, and it has consequences.

Those consequences leave us feeling ‘bad‘ even after we think we have moved on and claimed a better life for ourselves.

So, when it comes to the supernatural ‘fallen,’ the same goes.  While we may not want their modes in our lives any more, or feel they don’t fit with our existence, they still deserve respect and consideration as do any  other elements of God’s body.

It struck me that God seems to have been focusing on the ‘bad‘ for far too long, and that this focusing on the ‘bad‘ may have made It, too, feel miserable.

Now, when a human artist feels miserable, the tone of the creation can change, and they might start creating things that are ‘dark‘.  But as an ‘oddballcreator, myself, who never creates ‘dark‘ things from the ‘dark‘ feelings I may be undergoing, I don’t believe God is one of those types of creators, either.

Whenever I have created things after painful episodes in my life, (or during them), they were even more superb in outcome than usual, because I use my creative skills to re-establish what is important to mebeauty, magic and a sense of healing.

But as I said before, when painful things keep happening, the ‘gut churns’, nevertheless, and even as the beauty and magic shimmers from these creations, I can still end up feeling miserable.

So this thought came to me that God is an artist just like me, trying so hard to re-establish the beauty and magic and sense of healing in our world, and trying to balance out the ‘darkness‘ that seems to be becoming rife in so many places – but, because It’s efforts have not stopped that ‘darkness‘, the pain of that apparent failure and it’s accompanying sense of hopelessness is making God miserable.  And when God feels miserable, we begin to feel miserable, too.

What is that misery?  It is a sense of despair or hopelessness, or of self-doubt and worry, that overrides everything that is beautiful and wonderful in our lives, even when everything otherwise appears to be blessed and good.

It is that lack of appreciation for what we have, and for what we have the potential to do, and a lack of gratitude for life, itself.

It gets ‘under our skin‘ and ‘deep into our hearts‘, and stops progress, and creates obstacles that may not even really be there.  And, in this way, it affects all life on planet Earth – because, these ‘pebbles in the pond‘ create ripples that spread outward to contact everything and everyone.

That was when I included God as a particular focus in my prayers – and myself.

Because I rarely include myself in such things.  I just feel that if I make all others or the world around me feel better, then I will feel better, and that is often the way – but it is also the way that I neglect myself.  I neglect my own needs, or neglect my physical well-being, even as I send healing to others.

And so I believe that God has forgotten to send healing to itself, too.   I believe God needs some healing and care.   As the saying goes, who heals the healer?

So now I am focusing on God in my mantras in a very new way – and helping God, too, ‘be happy.’

There’s no point cleaning the pond to gain crystal clear water if the source of that water is compromised.

If what God thinks, God brings into being – and therefore, as elements of God’s mind, we can also bring our thoughts into being – then thinking God into a state of happiness should have a good result for all.

This is the Power of Positive Thinking at an archetypal level. This is refreshing the Source.

Let’s all focus on joy, happiness, mercy, kindness and compassion, and stop thinking about the bad things or bad elements so much.

Let’s trust our inner artistic skills for dealing with whatever crops up when it does crop up, and not think about ‘bad‘ things until they actually happen.

Let’s get on with living a beautiful life.

Whenever I find my mind dwelling on the ‘bad‘ elements in my life, today, I deliberately put them aside.

I will deal with them when and if I have to confront them.  I have dealt with them before, so I know I have the gumption and skills to do it again, when necessary.

But for now, and for a better future, I will not think of them when I don’t have to.

I am going invest fully in my belief that life will get better, eventually, and that all I need to do right now is to live it with as much appreciation as I can.

I think God is going to do that, too.


Lilipily Spirit – Empower Your Life, Connect with the Divine

Old Books

Photo courtesy of publicdomainpictures.net
Photo courtesy of publicdomainpictures.net

I loved books as a child, so much so that at every gift giving occasion my family would give me books. That was nice until I saw my sister getting dolls and other nice stuff to play with. I felt I was missing out and I let my mother know it.

The next gift giving occasion, I received a doll. I loved her beautiful blonde hair that was just like mine but quickly found some scissors and cut it short, as mine was styled (a la the actress, Mia Farrow, my mother said). My mother didn’t say anything. She knew I did it to make the doll more like me.

Despite loving the doll, it was soon put aside for my books. I wasn’t really a girl who played with toys much. It was getting my head into a book, drawing on the white paper my Nanna collected for me from the butcher, or going on grand imagined adventures in the world outside that pushed my buttons.

My love for books continued as I grew older. My mother learned to speed read in my early teens and taught me how to do it. We had already been churning over the library with an armful of books each week. Speed reading meant a book a day, so we got through a lot but in the end we had to re-learn how to slow down. By speed reading, we got the information in but did not get lost so well in the imaginary worlds the authors’ created. It took the fun out of reading.

I was once a great fan of romance novels – not the modern ones or ‘Mills and Boon’ types but the old fashioned stories that came from authors like Georgette Heyer or the Bronte sisters. It was a shock to me when I met my future husband, to learn that being feisty and slapping his face when he was not being nice was not as acceptable as those stories proclaimed.

In later years, I learned of studies that showed that romance novels were the thinking woman’s soft porn. I thought I agreed with that, considering how randy they made me feel, but then concluded that if they were soft porn they had a very frustrating result in my day and age. Men just didn’t live up to those suave, passionate and seductive standards. The hippy revolution brought about a society that was all about getting it on, right now, not romancing a woman until she was ready for action – and if a man was surly with you, he was just surly not sultry. If I asked my boyfriend what he had on his mind when he looked at me through half closed lids, it wasn’t that he wanted to get me into bed, it was that I’d said or done something he didn’t like. So unless I wanted an argument, I didn’t go there…

As a young woman, I started reading thick tomes of fantasy adventure novels. Each time a new series would come out, I’d end up buying every one. I loved fantasy adventure novels and science fiction best. I churned through two to three inch thick tomes in a couple of days. It was my escape from the world.

Because I hadn’t finished high school when I met my future husband and then ran away from home with him, I went back to finish my schooling as an adult, after my kids had birthed. Then, in English class, I re-associated myself with my love of writing and all my earlier forays into it as a child came back. I’d earned awards at school in earlier years for my writing, and I’d had some poetry and short stories published in magazines. So this renewed interest spurred me to write my own novel.

I’d become a freelance actor before going back to school and had already established my own amateur theater group by then, which I’d written some plays for, so writing a novel was just another step on my creative path.

By that time, my reading included scripts for my acting work and reviewing new plays for the theater group I founded. I was reading less and less for pleasure and more and more for purpose, albeit expressive and creative purpose.

Although I was still reading those, something changed once I began writing my novel. I found it extremely hard to pick up my fantasy adventure books and read them. I still bought them but they sat on my shelf waiting for me to read because every time I began reading I kept thinking of the novel I was supposed to be writing, and thought that I would be better investing my time and energy in that rather than in the depths of someone else’s book.

My long and deep association with reading the written word in novels pretty much came to a halt, then. Is that sacrilegious? Some would say so.

It’s not that I never read again. I have read the occasional book since but my life was so much more focused on expression rather than receiving after that. I was extremely busy expressing myself, in work, through creative endeavors, and in relationships. I didn’t have time to read, other than newspapers, magazines, and for information.

I never actually finished writing that novel. It got almost completely written but was redone and reworked over and over for many years until real life got in the way. It’s been some time since I got back to it. It still sits in the recesses of my mind, not even as just one book but as a series of novels… maybe for another lifetime, now.

The last time I read a book of fiction from cover to cover in recent years was when I was stuck on a ship for three weeks with a companion who didn’t want to leave the cabin much. The television didn’t have anything to watch on it, so I read the novel I had put in my bag for a ‘just in case’ situation. I was lucky to have had that book but since I got off the boat I still haven’t read another.

I don’t know what it is. It’s strange when I remember how many I went through in my younger years. Perhaps it is because life is so very busy and so very creative in so many other ways, I don’t need to escape any more. I have so much going on in my own mind, I don’t need other people’s stories to uplift me. Plus, when I read what they write, I often find myself reading the words that already sit in my head.

I still love books, though. I still like to have them around, and all that I read is still embedded in the grey cells, somewhere.

One of the first books I got a sense of being greater than its content was a small bible I had been given by missionaries visiting my school when I was a child. It had golden edges to the pages that shined in the sunlight, and the delicately thin pages were a delight to turn. They reminded me of the tissue paper pages between the sepia photos stuck onto the cushy thick paper of my unmarried Aunt’s family photo album, with a padded velvet black cat on the cover that I liked to run my fingers over as a child.

While I am no longer a christian, today, I still appreciate the feel of that bible. It was the first time I knew a book not by its words but by its cover. I loved the soft leather that held those wafer thin pages together, too. The minister of the church my mother went to had a larger version of that bible that he carried around almost everywhere he went. I was asked to read from his bible during one Sunday meeting. It was lovely to stand at the podium and read from this beautiful book with its red silk marker dangling at the side.

The words of the bible never really got into me as they did in my sister and others, though. I felt that most of it was a history or a genealogy, and it was hard to read. I don’t like books that are hard to read. That’s why I never made it all the way through J.R.R. Tolkein’s ‘Lord of the Rings’ series, and had to wait until they made it into movies before I truly got hooked. I suppose that’s why books like the bible need translators and interpreters like ministers, priests, and nuns. Like Buddha, I’m not a fan of second-hand interpretation. I like to assess things for myself.

My adoptive father’s family home had shelves of old books with tooled leather-like covers. I liked to take them off the shelves and try to read them as a child but many were difficult to process. The language and the grammar were different to that used in my world and the pages were stained and musty.

I have to say I was not a fan of old books. I hated that smell. I hated the old, neglected feeling that came from them, as if they had been finished with so long ago and just sat there waiting for something good to happen, and it never did… and by the time I came along, it was all too late – they had grown old and spotty, and stank.

Sounds harsh, I know. Actually, there were some that I did perservere with, like the stories of Robin Hood, Shakespeare’s poetry, or William Wordsworth and his daffodils… The words were enjoyable when I got to them. I just didn’t like the feel and smell of old books – the inside pages, anyway.

The outside of the books were different. It was the outside of old books that inspired my imagination best. I loved the years of handling that had roughed their covers, the years of body oil embedding in their imitation leather, the fraying and the tatting, and abrading of gold or silver tooling… I delighted in that.

I would much rather look at a whole book case of old books from the outside, (though they do beg to be picked up for at least a peek inside). For me, old books are to be cherished for what they are as a whole, rather than for just what is in between their covers.

I would much rather read the information that old books have in a newly printed form… but as an artwork, old books say it for me. I am sensually invested in old books.

They say you can’t judge a book by its cover. Well, I do. In this case, the cover is its history. It’s the way it has lived in this world.

People can be like that. If you think of a person’s life as being the pages of a book, over time the activities and memories of the past get blotchy and spotted, faded and yellowed, no matter how important or delightful their content once was. With much of the past no longer aired, these inner histories become stale and musty… but the outside of their book is more beautiful as it ages. It becomes an artwork. It is the archaeological sum of their life. Fascinating.

Today, I am renewing my interest in the written word, that comes between a cover. (I’m still getting my head around e-books). I’m really enjoying exploring the ideas and imagination of other writers, again, and especially reliving the metaphysical information I learnt so long ago, now expressed with new vision by modern authors.

While I prefer to read current reprints than the inside pages of musty old books, the technological media of today does not have the pages I enjoyed turning long ago. Modern paperbacks and e-books don’t have the sensuality of old books with their hard or leather covers, either. It’s all about the content and not about the art or its mellowing.

I do miss that.


Lilipily Spirit – Empower Your Life, Connect with the Divine!