Meditative States

Peaceful resistance; careful thought; spiritual fulfillment that offers time and space to let the words and creativity flow. It is a think tank -- a thoughtful reflective pool. There is freedom in this meditative state of mind that I'm learning to embrace and express as words. It reaches out in so many different directions of my life inspiring, motivating, allowing me to mold all the experiences -- good and bad -- into a lyrical prose. There is some hesitation that these words can be trite and hackneyed, but there are also moments of insight. It flows through my blood like the single even tone of a Miles Davis track -- sad, but steady, secure.


It is part of who I am. It is my core; my culture; it was present in my past and it is part of my future and who I can become. It is always calling to me; challenging me; prompting me to take it on. I've fought it; kicked at it; ignored it, but it keeps returning. There are parts of self that it is waiting to purify -- purify, cleanse -- It's part of my great conscious; my subconscious that I have given few opportunities to delve into; to explore. Meditation; meditative states has power over my being; and consequently my writing. I feel like I am oblivious; skipping over another existence that could be mine to own; there are snippets of my selves that I see emerging out of meditative states. My blues and struggle is mine to embrace without dumbing down the essence of me. My human qualities are flawed not less where it would transpose my beliefs and flush out the words. My passion is a gift -- it's a disguised muse granting me the drive to beg for more -- crave more. My dream is to live in this space of singing words and conversations -- of connections and associations that have flight -- that soar high above any form and function.


I am leading my self into a space where I don't fear the non-reverberations of my words on a page. My meditative states are connected to my words and expression. I have stories to tell -- to write what I know yet the stories remain unfinished and incomplete as if blockaded by the fear of response. I am mired; entangled in a negative web and need my meditative state to let it flow.


This is a story; possibly a parable; perhaps a children's story. It's from first person point of view - my point of view. YES, I want others' words in it -- it needs to be told from other spaces,places; forums. It is too narrow in its scope. I want it yelled from the top of a tall building; told my comic book writer; I want it expressed by a very old homeless man; it should come from the voices of people who have struggled with their selves; their own voices guiding them away; dissuading them from carrying out their dreams; ideals or what they thought were ideals. It could even go back to the story I wanted to write about the guy, who wanted to follow his dream of being a writer, but never fulfilled it -- why? What stopped him. The story needs an anchor -- too much static in the brain?

Maybe he gets a crick in his neck every time he thinks about the writing process -- something happens to him -- not commonplace.