Lessons
Born on Friday the 13th
The root of all discomfort is never the reality that the mind paints. Just as the outer world is a reflection of your inner world, truth only exists here and now, no where else.
The treacherous skies opened up and poured upon my chilled skin – the fear of life then was washed away with frigid beads of rain. I stood under the sky as I knew my soul would never be the same. How quick it all changes: clouds, dark, clouds, bright, drizzle upon decaying leaves and a candy-like reflection of a rainbow drifting with the sky’s marshmallows between a picture frame of vermillion trees – all quickly moving and fleeting as time dissipates into the abyss.
If all is a reflection of what is inside, then the weather’s recent chaos is surely the thought-stream of my mind – but if still, the beauty that sits behind the dark clouds makes a dramatic appearance; an appearance so striking and gusts of wind so strong that you just cannot help to look and see beyond seeing.
There, in this state, I’m blinded to mind and its chatter, and I awaken to truth – face to face with eyes of God; beauty so vivid that it can’t be understood. If dying on earth feels this great then why should we ever fear death? – because we don’t fear death; we fear the stories about what we tell ourselves about death. Everything that we fear is an illusion – nothing real is subject to fear.
After We Broke Up
After we broke up, you’ve been all I can think about. And I’m pretty sure that it’s because I can’t have you anymore. You won’t let me have you anymore. It’s hard for me to be around you because I just want to feel your skin against mine. I can’t quite articulate what it is. Looking into your ocean blue eyes when you were once home. I’m in love with memories that no longer exist, I’m in love with a moment in time that no longer exists, I’m in love with the essence of presence that you locked away a long time ago. You can’t deny it, I see it in your eyes, regardless as to what you say. Your stubborn resistance speaks everything.
I’m longing for your return, but in doing so, I’m slowly drinking from a bottle of poison, waiting to die. This heaviness upon my chest. This sadness that weighs upon my whole body. This insecurity is eating at me — this antagonistic jealousy — we were good once but, now all I see is my pain in you — I was addicted to your pain because you reminded me that I wasn’t the only one suffering in the world — which made me want to become better — which made me want to make you feel better — I just want to be a guiding light for myself and anyone that I come into contact with to bring them home — what if I had you again? Then what? Would everything be the same? Or would the same old shit happen again? You want yours. I want mine. But all was good when we weren’t prisoners to time. All was great.
We all deserve genuine love. And here I am, waiting for you like a loyal dog awaits its favorite fuckin’ treat. Occasionally tortured by the longing of your sweet nectar. If you return to me will you melt in my hand?
What It’s Like to Be a Writer
What it’s like to be a writer? – there’s something calling from within that is innate to the human spirit to get it. If it’s not catered to then it’ll manifest itself as tension in the body, pain, sadness, neurosis – it’ll paint pictures of illusion in order to symbolically relieve its deeper purpose – it’ll appear in dreams and demand attention because you’ve been lacking attention to the very reality that you are in.
The only acceptable time for a writer not to write is when he is one with the source – this is the only time that it is acceptable – any other place but here is never truly there.
I’ve grown passed writing my pains because I’ve written them again and again, in stories, in poems, it’s become empty to purge them in that rant-like fashion, which was once beneficial, but now, irrelevant – this may be because the deeper nature of myself knows I’ve overcome this stage of life already.
I allow fear of death, sickness, lack of fame, women, to distract me from my truest nature – the inspiration I seek from this is invalid because it only utilizes form.
Beauty From Afar
How is see it from afar is how I see it within.
There is this innate beauty that is my friend.
It’s all white and beautiful.
When Fear Returns
The fear has come over me again and found me –
The hypersensitivity and arising of old thoughts
That then turn into feelings, emotions, resistance,
Tension within the body,
Have been so strong as of lately.
Insecurity has found me
As I shun away this moment,
Seeking something else –
“Something else” doesn’t even exist.
The longing and wanting of more
Or to be somewhere else is a delusion
Perpetuated by the mind,
It’s an endless hole that causes
Conflict, violence, and even death.
Surrender
We can do all of the beautiful things of this world
If we truly surrender to our pain,
Face it with acceptance and courage,
And drink Life’s nectar
With sweet indulgence,
Laughing away as we melt into the spaciousness
That pervades all.
The only way to survive this world
Is with peace, love and kindness in our hearts,
Guided by the very faith
That goes beyond recollection.
The Fiercest Warrior
The fiercest warrior uses no force
But rather is the phenomenon of force itself –
This is not an act of passivity
But rather the most courageous and advanced
Acts of human energy:
To pervade time and transcend
While still alive –
To “die” while still breathing.
This freedom is the only freedom to “fight” for;
One this is attained
All else falls into place.
The Mirror of the Source
The grounding sky, night or day,
Is the reflection of our eyes;
The mirror of the source –
The wondrous eyes of a baby,
The happy eyes of a shameless dog,
Call this all what you will
But what they see and feel is beyond
What we see or feel
Because there is no thought,
Therefor their preciousness
Transcends the Holy Spirit.
Beyond Understanding
Your faith cannot grasp this;
This is beyond all understanding,
It is intuitive feeling that goes beyond feelings,
It is the ultimate peace;
Once you come to this realization,
You shall be free and effortlessly
Affect the entire universe.
Relax your face and have a taste;
This doesn’t last,
Nor does the past.
Gentle Snow
Gentle snow falling upon the earth
As I lose myself
Only to again find my worth –
Filled with fear,
I cannot see –
I wish to be forever free.
Find myself in the milky hour
Where the grass is green
And words grow sour.
Love Is the Only Way
Without faith,
What can I do?
The relief of sleep becomes the remedy
To heal the soul
As the mind releases
In order for the body to remain whole –
What happened? What can we do? Love is the only way. Kindness is the only way. Strength is the only way. If others could see – what gives me this ability? I’ve seen through my pain rather than let the pain run me. I sit in silence and grow.
Why we seek sleep in order to go to the realm of mysticism when the material world becomes overwhelming – all else is a distraction and we lose our ground because of the external world, if we allow it. There are moments in time that do not exist and we must allow them to be filled with life and abundance from a place that cannot be articulated or pondered – from as place that speaks from the eternal realm – this culmination of knowledge that I speak, I speak without thought, I may have “learned” it or never knew it. The depth of our realization goes further than you can imagine. God’s will supersedes all that is merely a distraction of the human mind and spirit – I speak from words that come from the source, without thought, without mind – are these regurgitations or ramblings of a gathered wisdom?- or merely the infinite truth that all of us know in the depth of our bones. From all of my discomfort I have sought after this eternal place to thrive from because life is not stagnant, it is a flow, it is cyclic and eternal.
If you are a writer and you think an hour of writing isn’t enough, then you haven’t ever truly written anything.
What can we do but be free of all that confuses us and accept that greatness lies within the understanding of infant youth and wonder.
Remember that your work has immense value – it doesn’t meant that at that moment the world is calling out for it but your soul surely is. When you feel the energy of your fans speaking, you will feel the energy of God, but this already flows through you. Believe and you shall have.
Watch My Psychological Horror Film
If you resonate with themes of memory, identity, fear, and the stories we tell ourselves, watch my 4K psychological horror feature:
AMNESIA (Full Film)
https://www.youtube.com/lowwisezahstudios
A story about fractured memory, perception, and truth — and the danger of believing the wrong narrative.
My Books
Explore my books here:
https://www.amazon.com/Books-Michael-Angel-Loayza-Jr/s?rh=n%3A283155%2Cp_27%3AMichael%2BAngel%2BLoayza%2BJr.