“Don’t touch it!” Baby D’s battle cry when he bumps his head or skins a knee. Oh yes, and his mantra? “Soy Sauce, soy sauce!--In a wasabi bowl.”
This is a far cry from the little baby we had a year ago.
A new year. What lies ahead?
I have felt inspired to write something, but what? I’m trying to wrap my mind around what has been going into it lately. Books, and watching The Secret again—you know how it made such a flourish, and then it was gone. A flash. We went to LA on Sunday and heard Michael Beckwith—one of the spiritual leaders featured in The Secret. “We are complete,” he said, “We are only uncovering our completeness. And we will never get it done--if we do our vision was too small."
We read, we listen, we become inspired and then it melts with the first flash of morning. We talk ourselves out of the enthusiasm we once felt, or else we are just plain lazy and don’t pay attention. We don’t believe we can be do or have whatever we want. “It’s not working,” we say.
And what is “Working?’ What is The Secret of the ages? People have hid knowledge regarding how life works, people have suppressed it, kept it hidden, told the secret to only a select few, kept it in secret societies. Do you think all that effort was for naught? That it was the absurd dribbling of wishful thinking? Or do you think there is something there to uplift the hearts of humankind, to inspire, to charge into greatness, and yes to tell them how it works?
Mindless dribble, is that what this is? I read one blogger who called blogging just that, or could this be a forum in which we can connect, in which we share our fears, beliefs, and desires?
If we go back to the spiritual underpinnings of our civilization, of America, of ancient cultures we see a golden thread shining through—the secret, that it lies within us. That God is within. That we need to understand that built into us is a brain, a subconscious, a God-force that drives us steadily onward, and says “Yes,” to our requests.
Ask the greats, Plato, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, Sir Isaac Newton, Leonardo Da Vinci, they knew the secret.
TIME IS A RIVER…AND BOOKS ARE BOATS. MANY VOLUMES START DOWN THAT STREAM, ONLY TO BE WRECKED AND LOST BEYOND RECALL IN ITS SANDS. ONLY A FEW, A VERY FEW, ENDURE THE TESTINGS OF TIME AND LIVE TO BLESS THE AGES FOLLOWING.--An ancient spiritual text
