Tag: #faith #selfempowerment #almostahaiku

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I almost changed my Name.

It was the year 2012. One of those many years that was expected to be the end times.

In that time I was going through a time that I will call a marked period of deep spiritual renewal and personal growth.

Through various periods of deep effective spritual experiences I had the thought to change my name.

I did this based off of the biblical tradition of God changing someones name after a time of important personal change.

The first thing I did was I started personally relating towards using my Saints name. Who is my patron saint you might ask?

My patron saint is Adam… the one who screwed everything up. He was also the first to return to God and offer sacrifice in covenant. He also for a good while walked around naked in a Garden and ate a bunch of delicious veggies and fruits while talking to animals. Might sound like a trip to Vegas for many but however you slice it “win win”.

I always loved the primitivity inherent in imagining existing like Adam.

The closeness to the source..the awareness of my dustness. I am not a self made man. I am a ‘God made’ man.

That was the humility I wanted to embody in my life. Would to God I could have more of that.

As time went by more name change thoughts came to the fore. I felt like more than ever I was learning what it meant to be a man ‘as me’. I was returning and I was ‘becoming’. I was even what I was becoming.

In the Bible Jacob was “the supplanter” one who took anothers place; if but by ‘sacred trickery’ by trickery no less. However in time Jacob ‘Yakov’ would be supplanted by an even higher destiny..to be Israel “He who contendeth with God and wins.”

James is a transliteration of Yakov in English. As James somewhere I felt a deep sense that in many ways I had a leprechauns luck but always at a hip jarring price. I may march into heaven but always with limping gate about me. I still to this day feel like Israel D. Adam Broxson, one who has struggled manfully with God and won the prize of God, an apostle who conserves energy by not wasting it, knowing I am but mankind made of the red clay; for I am the one who dwells by the rivers of running ‘living’ water who bears his fruit in due season as I dwell by the brook.

I may have not changed my name at the Marshall North Carolina Courthouse like I almost tried to do many years ago but that name still lives within me like an identity. Who knows maybe it will become my penname so it keeps a more religious than civil signifigance? All I know it that a rose by any other name is not always just as sweet. Sometimes who we are inside evolves and how it reflects outside does as well. I am a new man, a grown seed changing. I am happy to be..even “who I am becoming.”

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depression, mental health, love, kindness, golden rule, religion music Poetry Politics, Philosophy, Learning and living. Uncategorized

Sometimes {Poem freeversed}

Sometimes poetry is the only thing that can get out what’s inside of me.

The knotwork knowledge grease to unconstipate for dam release.

What in damnation? Too much information..

The reasonable rationed sensation of the man of a micro nation. Set apart..

How great that ART. 🎨 Were we to do what we start by stating the finished point and reaching the saving arche.

Archetypes are boat rides that float tired note tides..we didn’t expect.

Redirect 404 error. No reason to despair her.. i mean she the soul within.

She’s a good soul and it’s a rude goal to to too hard to ‘control’ the process.

The process is science and science progressed science which is good knowledge to have for hindsight trust reliance..

To know who we became is to lock to a become. A faith but in faith.

A beat to hearts drum.

Ride on.

Friar Tech Deck.

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Written { A Poem}

That which is writ worked on heart not on stone.

A work written by acts of life not mere wordsmith hewn.

Not proverbs for proverbs sake, wise-signaling much.

A crescendo of newness a newness as such.

To make new the old man.

Treasures old and new.

A Christ child, a married monk a cell made for ‘2’.

Into your cell go and learn what’s without.

By going within learn outside without doubt.

A Trinity, Duopoly, a unity monopoly.

What a terrible atrocity when we all do own everything.

I’m a Monk to be married a husband as Monk.

I’m a classical heir of medieval funk.

I’m a Theological DJ ..Dilloneous Monk.

An Ubermensch Scrap man with Junk in the Trunk.

An Ubermensch Every man Dandying Uptown Funk.

I’m busting it downtown.

I’m grinding at Cornerstones doing nothing a round clown.

A fool not a tool depending whose in the shed.

Negative opinions don’t touch me. Spirit men arrready dead.

I’m hooked to the sojourning wayfaring life.

A metaphysical pirate awayed from life’s strife.

My diction and phonics is One Word all do Know. It’s not fiction though subtle reality owned.

I’m stick stuck on moving thus staying in place. I’m paradox left, right and center unslaved.

Liberated by serving reality et all. En masse the masses together we fall.

I’m taking wearing my wardrobe too seriously. I’m a suit now. #rocketpower !
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One day…(at a time) I’m going to learn to Love.

We live in a day and age with many different opinions and in a time where people don’t know what live and let live means.

Some might say it is because we have surrendered too much of our self government to the governing powers.

The Project Vehicle.

Others would say it begs the question the idea that the government would not ‘enshrine our values’.

For people like me the poles of secular and religious nationalism express perfectly why I don’t consider myself having reached my country. My kingdom ‘is’ not of this world.

There is a belonging without violence.

There is a city without nationalism.

There is an inclusivity with open diversity.

There is identity with cosmically aligned individuality.

There is a post post modernism that progresses and doesn’t destroy all ancient values.

The apex we stand on like a spinning globe is the interrelation of movement that is fixed and chaotic.

The social architects of the world may be called ‘they’ by some but to cool headed non conspiracists who are not afraid of the mechanics of the worlds infrastructure we merely call it a project vehicle.

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depression, mental health, love, kindness, golden rule, religion Poetry Politics, Philosophy, Learning and living. Uncategorized

I’m not Good at Blogging.

Imagine deep within your soul you want to give gifts to the world..but then life happens and you get tired.

Imagine having the passion of a Content Creator but not knowing how to put your thoughts into words.

What am I protecting? Is this modesty.. its own form of honesty?

In order to be a popular platform poster you need to “post every day” or at least a few times a week.

Ah

That might not work then.

Where is the passion I’m looking for? Where is the spirituality I once had or the zeal for living life as if this life is a rare commodity?

How do I take life for granted so much? How do I lounge in carefree boredom narcolepsy or not? Am I pregaming my midlife crises, getting ready for it, double fisting it?

Seems like a me thing to schedule such a thing rather than to be surprised by it.

Well why on earth am I surprised that there’s no element of surprise when I feel like I already know what the book of my life is about..like God and I deliberated and threw the book at me?

Sometimes I feel like I have some crystal ball or a blueprint to my life in my subconscious mind. I don’t want to see it. I don’t want the left hand to know what the right hand is doing. I’m tired of it. I’m tired of watching my movie from the outside.

Life and the enjoyment of life seems rather to be that the eyes and the ears and the nose would hear, see and smell what is here or at least whatever senses we have available to us. So strange that even Spiritual Doctors have remarked on sense “All knowledge comes through the senses.” Good job St. Thomas Aquinas for being like the Doubting apostle in your search for faith. I feel that heartily.

So there is that darkness in the soul of understanding (nous) to wit my life gives reference that I keep remembering that I don’t know and I do know. Part of me know my spirit though living in my body and not separate has separate agencies, faculties and ‘abilities’. I find it hard to be a gnostic because I’m an earthen vessel and yet though trying not to be “too heavenly minded to be of any earthly good” I find myself trapped between worlds, like a ghost with a preternatural stain on the ink blot tests of the collective unconscious of this age.

In my heart I watch kingdoms rise and fall revolutions turn and the sun set many a year. The ages of time acquiesce to an Apocalyptic dance that never seems to end. All of this is beautiful and is a verdict to my and the worlds mortality. I hope that I can learn lessons of this knowing that “the spirit gives life and the flesh is of no avail.” so that perhaps life can come to my dry bones again.

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depression, mental health, love, kindness, golden rule, religion Poetry Politics, Philosophy, Learning and living.

I don’t even Car.

Blanco.

Gringo.

Malibu.

Think yo.

Hesitant hearts and minds DON’T BLINK YO.

Listen to the hearts of your loved ones. It’s meditation.

Got our car back from some thieves. Nice feeling. Wife and I are relieved.
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Therapy isn’t “Following the Money”.

I’m nervous as all get out tonight and I don’t really know why but I can say for sure that part of it is exemplified in how long it has taken me to make another blog post.

Cohesive senses of identity are difficult for neurodivergents like myself who have goldfish level attention to the present unless the deepseated passion quota within is met.

As a father and a husband I find myself struggling between the pragmatic mercantilism of St. Francis of Assisis father and the universal trustful love of St. Francis as if there were no way to balance the two.

I’m torn; comparing myself to the subjective standard of success I see in others and my fear of not measuring up to the imaginary ‘standard’.. all the while fearing the giving up of better heavenly real estate, my truest goal because I could only ever justify being a capitalist in the kingdom of heaven because I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work very well for human nature down here on planet earth.

And yet somewhere deep inside my conflict (deep conflict) is that I of assurety believe in balance and yet I desire for the extremes of childlike trust in God and radical trust in His free miraculous work through His creation like I knew in my youth.

What do I need to become not only who I used to be but the next chapter of me?

Am I perhaps meant to be both? Sometimes a turned page is merely the front and back of one turned page.

I’m convinced I’m too young for a midlife crises but perhaps I’m early! If I die before I’m old perhaps I’ll have the luxury to live before I’m dead.

As a guy I knew once said.. “I don’t know what I’m doing and so can you.”

Original clay and mixed digital media art by me: “Blood and Water”.

http://@dillbro7
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He who is sad should write.

Edenic unity, prefall nonutopia for falls sooner or later becomes (sigh), ‘a place’

… the shamed disgrace of no face to be saved.. sadly, indeed, is no saved face..

#Dishonor.

Wear a mask they say and the brutes relent.

And yet they won’t look you in the eye.

They don’t look at you not because of masking but because they mask what’s behind the eyes.

The only reason I divert my eyes is because I’m a student of life AND a different sort of guy.

That’s the only reason I can’t see you eye to eye.

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Catharsis.

Le sigh for my se la vie. For my vitality you see I just need to just be.

I often write to get my edge off when nothing else suffices, nothing else cuts it.. nothing else works.

I don’t really understand this world sometimes but knowing it understands me sometimes is a real cure for depression.

Yes I said cure and yes I only said it to spite the backlash of ‘factscism’. Sure it might not be the cure the test tube demonstrated but life doesn’t always happen in a test tube either baby.

Today is me and my wife’s 3rd wedding anniversary. A beautiful day and a cure to my ails all it’s own but even so today had it’s inner challenges for me. My desires to be more, to give more, to provide more, my ‘perfectionisms’ are riding on me and exhausting me.

Business associates not cooperating with me and returning emails so I’m stuck and cannot work because of technical issues. A pine tree fell on a power line down the road from my house so we couldn’t cook at home for our anniversary but had to go to my parents .

…Update: I just returned to this draft half a month later. We survived and had a good dinner. All is well.

Problems really seem more problematic when they’re happening.

Sleep tight San Diego.

Sleep is good.

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The Mastermind Manifesto

The usual trifle of a mastermind is their undoing but there is a mastermind of daunting courage, accidental lack of ego and yet an individualism that “seeks not its own.” yet “lacks nothing” and is “perfectly equipped for every good work.”

‘The usual trifle of the Mastermind is the ‘truffle’ of the Mastermind. Wishing to escape the watching eyes of commoners presumed swine that are in their common simplicity the sign and signat of that primeval connective singularity of all beings the mastermind alone presumes to be the all seeing eye..and yet..”the spiritual man judgeth all things and yet is judged by no one.”

This is Yin and Yang, Light and Dark, Batman and Robin.

Shadows have the tendency to reveal the truth.

Just as Sherlock Holmes might make a game of wits with a man of wits similar and the chess game that interweaves as we see consciousness show mysteries, that is the mystery of evil and the mystery of good.

How does one of similar temperament and comportment as another choose evil or good?

How many of us truly ever meet our archnemesis?

The arechtypical mastermind is not entirely evil and vile.

The Benevolent Ego of the good Mastermind absorbs into the all.

Whilst being an individual self he is at the service of all.

While being egoless he has become all.

While the evil mastermind secures his fortress the good mastermind makes a glass house.

Through accountability is wrot tranquility for accountability is “to be known” by another name.

The evil mastermind secures his own house. When the good leader rules he secures homes for all.

Two houses all and all and great the potential dirges for if either were to fall and yet one shares generosity with urgency the other clenches stones and gold alike.

Like a dark prince of shimmering, ethereal and uncreated light so is the rarity of this egoless gift to humanity.

He/she calls back the valor of the medieval knights of lore. He is victorious and powerful and has found the white stone with his name on it. His name will never be blotted out.

May we all strive for such egoless truth of existence.