Memoirs of a Nothing, Really (Vol. 1)

One of the first books I recall wanting to write or publish, but it only ever remained an idea, was: Memoirs of a Nothing, Really

Kind of like a coffee table book or a "bathroom reader".

The inner thoughts and ramblings that get exited onto paper and then land into a book for the public to read. 

Well, let it be part of a blog for now. I can even include images of my writings. Sounds fun and without some odd, programmed pressure or deadline. 

Launching is often far more fulfilling and "important" than perfecting or knit-picking a project- especially for a Creative like yours truly- This Wizard of Love and Light.

I'll start with the sketch book in front of me, for 'Memoirs of a Nothing, Really' has no beginning or proper ending.

As I walk through the valley of the sunshine of life. 

Everything is new - even when I look twice.

Slipping and drifting, and floating along - in divine order like words in a song. 

Harmony. Melody. Happiness. Joy.

But wait...there's more:

A mirrored reflection in every direction - distorted and different, yet always the same.

Still, like the glass in a window at night. 

The slightest of movements send ripples of light.

Look closely and see,

What appears to be still - is always in motion.

One moment a pond - next is the ocean

Ok, so my memoirs of nothing happen to unfold through a pen as poetry. I love to sing and write. Let it go. Read without attachment. What words come through when you sit to write without expectation?

No matter the matter

Be gladder and gladder

A word is a word if I make it the latter

Bona fide humans walking about

Looking here and peering there

What makes a man a man without the cave and a fire?

Reaching for stars without getting higher

Then, without relation at all..or is there?

Written words from a prophet are no different than a man with eyes lit

A fire burning inside will bring forth all form of creation

There are no prophets and seers, just you and me

 

The ramblings of a man with the world in his hand.

Isn't 'Memoirs of a Nothing, Really' the perfect title though?

The statement is made and the piper is paid.

But who is the piper and why are we paying them?

And how much is due when it's due?

I am not, unless I am the piper and the pay is fat and plenty.

I will accept the pay for being the piper today.

By the power of the written word - tune into the frequency of love and joy now.

Come forth with your devices of kindness and leave all pity and shame at the place where it can thrive and shine.

Pity and shame could have its own value amongst their own kind. 

Kindness - with love, comes from above

And to me feels like home. 

One with all means never alone.