How amazing, words.

A word is a whole world. It brings along images, sounds, memories, experiences of both the past and the present, and expectations for the future.

We attune ourselves to these words. Collect them. Compile them. Manipulate them. We implement words every day, capture whole worlds, without even realizing it. Not all of us may master words, but some of us are very, very good at it. Some of us can inspire others with the worlds that we capture. With words, someone’s life can be changed forever.

Most of us have spent our whole childhoods honing our reading and writing skills. So, whenever you use a word, keep these thoughts in mind. Words are powerful, and there is no weapon deadlier than the pen and paper. Swords and guns affect presently, but the written word is forever.

There is, however, a certain catch. Anyone that implements such powerful things is also under the control of that which they are implementing.

And, perhaps, there is no one that knows that better than me.

All experience, I believe, is apexial. Like a pyramid, our lives are leading up to one singular point. Everything that you learn or are told is training of sorts, experience necessary for some challenge that you will eventually be presented with. You must use the tools that you uncover as you travel, a pilgrim through a dense forest, and if you fail to do so, the consequences may prove to be crippling, even fatal. If you succeed, however, you will become that much stronger. Invariably, we are always being taught and we are always being challenged.

At the same time, however, every one of us is a teacher. We are all offering tools, the strategies that we have been told or given over time. Whenever we communicate, form relationships, etc, we are empowering others so that they may overcome that which may hinder or impede their progress down the road.

It is a giant cycle, a collective unconscious, if you will, and when communication ceases, we will all fall victim to fate.

And, perhaps, there is no one that knows that better than me.

My form of communication is the word. That is my implementation, my strategy, and my lesson to others. Without the word, I cannot succeed, and without the word I will not succeed, and it is for the same reason.

I control the word and the word controls me, because without me the words are lost and without the words I am lost.

Allow me to describe a scene…

There is a body. The body has a brain. The brain can think, and through these thoughts, it controls and persuades the body. The brain and its counterpart, the soul, have access to a great thing, an indescribable divinity. It is the source of all knowledge, inspiration, ideas, and invention.

This great thing we may refer to as the Divine Word Bank (or DWB for short).

The brain receives, through the collective unconscious, waves that resonate from the DWB. The brain, after receiving these signals, translates them as best it can into viable thoughts. The brain then speaks to the body, using these thoughts, and the body acts accordingly. The body affects the world, and therefore other bodies. These bodies then send their own signals to their brains, which send signals through the collective unconscious back to the DWB.

Our bodies, for all intents and purposes, are Antennas to the Divine Word Bank.

And, perhaps, there is no one that knows that better than me.

When I write, as is my nature, I cease to exist on a material basis. Our power as people increases, as we all learn eventually, when we shed our conscious mind and attune ourselves to our subconscious. When work becomes second nature, the collective unconscious is in control. It is then that we act best; as simple antennas.

When I write and cease to be, I am just an antenna. I receive these signals from my brain, which are then transformed into thoughts, ideas. My brain then talks to my body, which moves my hands, which then writes these words.

And then the words simply are. They are no longer signals, no longer thoughts. They exist on a material basis.

In the end, we do not all receive the same waves. Our brains do not all decode information the same, or as effectively. Our brains do not communicate as easily with our bodies as others might. This does not make us any better or any worse than anyone else. We just are.

Over time, I learn more and more that what comes out of me (in every sense of the word) at one time, and in one form, came into me. We are processors, and that is our function. Learning is just our bettering the way in which we process things.

I could say that I am a good writer. I could say that I am adept and masterful in the art of weaving complex and thoughtful analogies and pieces of symbolism, but that would be untrue. These things already exist. My brain is just trying to decode them.

Of course, the decoding processes that my brain works through, in a way, I can take credit for. I can sit down and I can dissect a passage in a book with the precision and expertise of a master surgeon who has spent their whole life in the field. But there is something that both the surgeon and I will miss, and that others who have not been trained might find in our stead. And that, in a sense, is why there is always room for improvement.

We are fallible and, in turn, must learn to be creative. If we were all perfect decoding machines and were perfectly attuned to the DWB, everything would be universal and infallible. True, the old, divine ideas would never fade, but new ones would never appear. It is our mistakes and our unique decoding processes and behaviors that add more to what exists now. It’s these things that expand our minds and the collective unconscious in which they thrive.

Sometimes, we let ourselves get so wrapped up in the world, it starts to strangle us. We get so wrapped up in our pre-conceived notions, in culture, in common-sense and logic, and in reality, we lose the ability to take a step back. I know it’s scary, but, sometimes, maybe the best thing to do is allow life to amaze you. Allow life to remain indescribable.

Most of all, try learning to be more than a human closed off by culture and society and morality. Learn to be an antenna. More than that, even, learn to be a fallible antenna. Make every mistake possible. Be creative, be original. God was an architect, and Jesus was a carpenter. Divinity is all about creation. Learn to destroy something beautiful and then turn it into something even more beautiful.

Blow up the Sistine Chapel, burn down a library or a church, push over the Leaning Tower of Pisa, and make a sky scraper crumble to the ground. Learn to love piles of rubble. Because, only in that disgusting, unorganized heap of debris and mass, is anything possible. When we have the tools to create, anything can be created. It is only when we leave the world alone, untouched, that we have run out of possibilities.

So, in that sense, I would say that the surgeon is the worst person for the job. The surgeon knows what he must do, but he has great difficulty finding out what he can do.

And, perhaps, there is no one that knows that better than me.