Tag Archives: telling

Short Stories {5} ~ Dead Sea Love Intoxication With God

The Dead Sea, full of minerals and health rejuvenation, a salt lake bordered by Jordan to the east and Israel and the West Bank to the west lies within the Jordan Rift Valley, and its main tributary, the Jordan River. Dynamo, a head strong, workaholic of a man, was taking a break from his life as a top wall street banker in New York City.

Dynamo’s sea sickness was churning up his stomach whilst sailing in the midst of the ocean. For two days he had been drifting in the salty lake not having bearings of his location. Materialism had consumed his life, but he had forgetten one thing and that was his conscience. Dynamo had focused more on bringing his top of the range sunglasses than vital nesseccities. Pleading with God, Dynamo cried out, “God, I beg you to gift me a miracle, I beg you, I thought I had all the equipment with me, I failed again, now I am drifting as my whole life has been due to my devious ways.”

Dynamo mumbled incoherently, words no one could hear except God, with a lack of food, his consciousness was sinking into a semi-conscious delusional state.

Words seemingly coming out of no where sinking and blending into his brain waves almost taking over his physical vehicle in a trance boomed out. “Recovery tells a story, the way out of self-sabotage, is self-love but you don’t need to hit rock bottom to gain self-love. You just need to stop beating yourself up mentally. You’ve been trying to find me in cocaine, a plethora of drugs, women, prostitutes, cars, material possessions, in coffee, in cigarettes, in conversations and in your work yet you have not found me yet.”

God carried on. “If you’re wondering what your purpose is here on earth, I can give you the answer. You are here to find yourself. To embrace yourself. To be yourself. And in order to do all of that, you must love yourself. You see, at some point, we all experience a pivotal moment in our lives that has such a devastating effect that we lose a sense of our own worth.

“For you,” continued God, driving Dynamo’s consciousness, “it happened quite early. When I look back now, I can see that in your soul contract you lacked self-love from around the age of ten when your father became an alcoholic and mistreated you. The years that followed were tumultuous and you stripped away your true self and became less and less ‘you’ until you reached your mid-twenties and there wasn’t much left of you – you chose to sell your soul to banking. Find compassion for yourself Dyanmo, you endured severe trauma, you were trying to find me in them.

“Prior to starting the process of self-love, I had no idea that I was sabotaging myself so badly,” Dyanmo shivered. “If you would have asked me back then if I loved myself, I would have answered no, the truth was that I was battering myself from head-to-toe every day of my life. I wasn’t physically beating myself up, but in my mind, I was tormenting myself for not feeling good enough.”

“Become the hero of your own story,” God shouted. “I AM the hero of my own story,” cried Dynamo regaining his consciousness. A sickingly euphoric feeling melted his body and mind, the shore line was in sight. Dynamo navigated his boat towards the wooden planks before him breathing a deep sigh of relief. Overwhlemed with God’s love and wisdom, he came to the realisation that life was about service and love. Not only did he quit his job that day, he used his millions to build a rehabilitation centre in Jordan for orphans, the mentally troubled and the homeless. Revelation.

Love is you, love is within you, when you start to look inside you, you will find the love you have been yearning for. Always remember that the most important relationship that you will have in your life is with yourself. You are God, yet a fractal of it – paradoxes galore.. Find him in you.

~DiosRaw 04/04/21

Short Stories {4} ~ Kyoto Magic

Running through the Kyoto mountain range through winds beyond the realms of his monastery, Tiko had been instructed to find the essence of magic by his Zen master, Gikyo.

“What is magic?” the young Tiko mumbled to himself whilst dragging his feet, overlooking cherry blossom trees crowding the peaks of the cliffs. To Tiko, magic seemed something enigmatic and mysterious yet so close to home. In myths and legends many of the monks in his monastery had heard of the concept of magic yet Tiko could not quite comprehend it.

Tiko could see his spirit guide, No Face, hovering in the distance, patiently awaiting this young boy’s arrival. No Face, Tiko’s spirit guide, was a dark shadowy and loving being with two white eyes poking out from behind his black veil. “Tiko, can you see it?” whispered No Face as his student arrived. “Well, I see the eternal universe,” exclaimed Tiko.

‘Magic is the science and art of causing change to occur in conformity with will,” No Face told Tiko both sitting on the wooden bench atop the Kyoto mountain. Tiko was fixated on No Face, his beloved guide, seen since birth, flowing in and out of his life, he felt safe in this spirit’s presence.

“When I say “magic” I don’t mean the stage craft of disappearances, card tricks, and other illusions — impressive as they are. I mean the practice of magic and magical thinking, the ability to shape our lives and the world around us through belief, ritual, and the invocation of forces far greater than ourselves; forces we may not fully understand, and which “work in mysterious ways,” as is often said,” No Face reached Tiko. “Magic is a neutral term, not inherently ‘good’ or ‘evil’, the intent and morality behind it is up to the practitioner themselves.”

Tiko took a deep breathe in and out correlating all his past knowledge from ancient texts, his teacher Gikyo words and No Face’s teachings.

“Magic is life, magic is the spells we cast on one another with our thoughts, magic is formless yet form, magic is the essence of life. Magic is love. Magic is silent yet loud. Magic is nothing yet everything. Magic is the indescribable and can only be experienced,” Tiko gasped turning to look at No Face. “Tiko, you never fail to impress me with your young, yet old soul wisdom,” smiled No Face.

Gleefully rushing back to tell Gikyo all he had learnt, No Face faded in and out of the third dimensional realm, observing Tiko between spheres, he was never alone. We are never truly alone.

Back in the monastary, Gikyo grinned and patted Tiko on the back. “Are you ready for your next task Tiko?” Gikyo said sipping his green tea leaves resting in his wooden chair by the porch. “Yes, of course,” said Tiko knowing No Face would be there to aid him on his journey.

Tiko slept on the monastery floor knowing No Face was always there to help guide him on his path to enlightenment; warm and satisfied with his day’s work he slept sound within the magic that cradled him.

~DiosRaw 02/04/21

Short Stories {3} ~ Paradox Diffusion

Years after searching for God in psychedelics, Rumi had not wavered in her quest for knowledge. Without the benefit of a prescribed social role, she did what she wanted, when she wanted, which was to learn without regard for convention. Today, paradoxes were circulating around her mind, determined, she would not sleep without finding her answer.

At other times and in other places, Rumi would have been burned at the stake, hailed as a prophet, or stoned. The present time simply ignored her. Normal people treated Rumi as a public garbage can, light post, or stalled car, as an obstacle that could be moved but numbed by her surroundings.

“Take your pills NOW,” shouted the nurse down the corridor, from Texas’s renound mental hospital for the “insane.” Rumi rolled her eyes as Nurse Truchin’s sharp voice echoed and bounced off blood stained walls, she was sitting in room 23, her white washed room “gifted” to her by her parents, they could not cope with her cosmic mind anymore. Rumi had been in Senora Texas Mental Hospital for two weeks and she felt on edge, this was her first time in an asylum. Rumi paced up and down her abode, she had to take those dreaded sleeping pills or else they would force it down her throat somehow. Reluctantly she calmly walked down the hallway and was handed her pill through the dorms pill shutter.

Rumi swallowed the pill. “Good, now go back to your room, checks are at 11pm, make sure you are in your bed or you know what will happen,” said Nurse Truchin coldly. Rumi said nothing, she would achieve nothing by responding and quietly returned to her room blocking out the screams from the room beside her’s.

Shutting her door, relieved, she lay on her bed staring at the white washed walls that had become her friend. What were paradoxes? How could two opposing propositions exist at the same time? The sleeping pills were making her more and more drowsy. Lonely and with a heavy heart she pulled the duvet above her head. “A paradox is a statement or problem that either appears to produce two entirely contradictory (yet possible) outcomes, or provides proof for something that goes against what we intuitively expect,” Rumi reiterated inside of her mind.

Hallucinating as she usually did on these pills, she saw imagery quite like her visions on magic mushrooms a few months ago. Warping geometric patterns danced in a trance with eachother as her eyes flickered going in and out of consciousness.

I will sleep on this Rumi decided in her mind drifting off into the astral planes.

Upon awakening her answer had arrived, getting out her notebook she wrote “Paradoxes lead you to God.”

On her day of release, after all this time pretending to act normal to get out of this hell hole of an asylum, Rumi saw Mrs. Truchin as “insane” and Mrs. Truchin saw Rumi as insane. Rumi quietly knew that duality breaks down into formless consciousness; she was sane in an insane world.

“I know one thing,” Rumi said to Mrs. Truchin as she left the asylum doors. “And that is that I know nothing.” Rumi remembered studying ancient Greek philosopher’s such as Socrates years ago. Mrs. Truchin took one bewildered look at Rumi and walked away. Rumi smiled to herself and smelt freedom once again, her taxi was awaiting to pass through the doors into the insane world.

Time is a construct of consciousness and in higher dimensions has no meaning. but, in the lower dimensions it is used to measure changes and in the multitudes of parallel timelines all simultaneously existing. Paradoxes melt into the all, Source, Brahman, Allah, whatever name you stamp onto formless ether.

~Amber, DiosRaw 01/04/21

Short Stories {2} ~ Life & Death Conundrums

In the heart of the lungs of the planet, Drogo was sent by his shaman to retrieve the wisdom, from the plant spirits on his dieta, of the concept of life and death.

Drogo, a young tribal boy from the mayani tribe had been initiated into an shamanic apprenticeship by his medicine man grandfather. He went hungry as part of his initiation to feel the full effects of his dieta and consumed the fruit of the Mondura plant. Drogo wandered into the undergrowth to his hut made by his father to undergo his apprenticeship.

Laying back on his hammock a spirit lingered in the back of his mind tell him “A long time ago life and death were best of friends, death saw life as a gift and life saw death as a gift. When the time came when people spread all over the world, life and death began to criticize each other. People view life in your tribe as the most precious gift from God and people view death beyond this jungle as something that no one wants. People have lost touch with the truth of reality, that your spirit never dies and your soul passes on into the realm overlapping yours.”

Drogo was an intelligent young man and understood every word of what the Mondura plant spirit said.

Within the scope of Drogo’s dreams that night, death and life were conversing with eachother. Death: “Why is it people love you so much where in fact you are just a dream, a fascination. No one will stay forever. Life is short and no person will live forever. Why is it people like you?” Then Life said: “Yes you are correct with that Death, I am just a dream, a fascination and I know Life is not forever. What is important is the things or deeds that you do during your earthly life. How about you death? I know you are the reality of life. That everybody dies, yet they do not die.”

The next morning Drogo wandered into his tribes camp and met with his grandfather by the Mondura tree.

“Life and death, two sides of the same coin,” Drogo exclaimed in a simple manner.

“Yes, my grandson, it indeed is,” replied his shamanic elder. “Now you know this, what will you do?”

“I am not afraid anymore grandfather, I am dead already,” Drogo echoed through the jungle.

Roars of the howler monkeys shuddered the ground beneath them, they said their blessings to the plant spirits and thanked them for their aid.

The jungle holds many secrets for the ones who see, all is here now.

~Amber, DiosRaw 31/03/21