Philosophy of the Piercing Spear

Image by Victoria_rt from Pixabay

Learning to discern the fine line between due effort and unnecessary pain is a type of art by which fashionable human behaviour seems rudimentary or obsolete.

Little do old philosophies and popular ideals beget before the face of one who is maddened with a reason to be himself when fundaments do nothing but drown and suppress.

Neither humans’ factual nor romanticized nature can stand between his essence of being and its realization, although some may disagree.

A question to ask often would be, “To what extent am I myself, and to what extent am I the product of something or somebody else’s puppetry?”.

A puppeteer needs not be the common fiend we like so much to incriminate, externalized or dwelling in the crevices of ourselves – consciously enacting the ways of vileness, or obliviously carrying on the motions of pre-ordained mandate.

The collective’s and the individual’s torment are loftier and more complex than words can articulate.

And he who has neither knowledge of the world nor of himself little can avow, contemplate, or rage against to see his boons or change his own predicament.

And on he goes, collecting chains from all the sources he has entertained, as well as consolidating those already dragged to his own strength or detriment.

Whether we are the armchair taster of ideas or the living incarnation of the knowledge we acquire, there is more to find beyond the layers of anything which we may lay actively or not our eyes or any other organ of awareness upon.

Wide-Ranged

Image by Adam Derewecki from Pixabay

An ivory tower climbs above the soft, clear clouds. Its majesty peaks beside the sun of late afternoon in an embrace of glory in a regal ballroom. The city below is entranced by its own reveries of pain and lust, while the Pegasus gazes upon it from its Empyrean abode.

By the city’s port swims the Swan of Dreams, sun-kissed, starlit – a graceful sight, a loveling. From her back, red roses blossom and wave in the breeze.

Unbeknownst to the citizens, the Swan passes by as it is her journey to be.

Her eyes are diamonds of sacred curiosity, yet the citizens miss her dock for their own sentence of death in life perpetuated by the ebb and flow of oblivious breath.

Polarity and Vibration

Image by 0fjd125gk87 from Pixabay

The price of direction is having something to do and work on, ideally from self-initiative. The sacrifice is the investment of effort taking action, doing, and working on something.

Alyona Uramuru

All power, quality, and skill can be attained through the mastery of polarity and vibration.

The thing and its opposite are one thing with different degrees in between on a scale.

This is why “vague” can be sharply outlined, and “ambiguous” can be defined and clear-cut.

No one is stuck with anything undesirable or troublesome, save in ignorance of the laws and ways by which he/she can take command of his/her situation, and transmute it through the poles and vibration into the desired outcome.

Both ends are mastered, though one may polarise oneself on one’s desired degree of vibration between the poles.

Both ends pertain to the one thing or quality, and the master controls both.

Therefore, there is no considered “native” quality that cannot be transmuted and refined into something helpful, uplifting, and empowering; thus, giving one more control over oneself and one’s life.

Be the master of your own destiny.

Create the life you want to live.

that moment when you paid attention to yourself and found livingness in the subtle surroundings

https://pixabay.com/images/id-5830590/

In the silence of nighttime,

In the entrancing drone of distant air conditioners and fans,

Enchantment sparks its way into life –

Life itself becomes alive in the simplicity and beauty

Of experiential potential and the creative imagination

That breathes meaning and delight

Into each moment of mindful awareness,

Into the true dreams of your heart.

Oh, have mercy, you savage beast!

Mid-day hours of sworn peace and beauty quiet

Spoke to art of the Romance of Life in its splendour.

The gentle breeze caressed the leaves outside.

The chirping birds’ melody broke through the glass door,

And nomad clouds followed the trail of the whispering wind.

~*~

Oh, have mercy, you savage beast!

I heard the calling in the garden of bliss,

Close to nature’s wonders,

Cradled by nymphs, kissed by fairy lips

Between reveries of light beams.

I felt the calling, and to honour it,

I deemed it worth the working –

That if expression would suffocate,

In loving it would find salvation,

Birthing the harmonious translation

Of natural delight with each breath endeavour.

~*~

Oh, have mercy, you savage beast!

For all the moments weaved by flowing serenity,

For all the moments blest by heartfelt sublimity,

Silence now the vertigo of your haunting!

In this land, corresponding,

There is the Goddess of Beauty and Love

Rightly enthroned in grace and glory.

You are the shepherd of form and final polishing.

Alyona’s Journal I: Claim Yourself, Be your own Master

I do not content myself with merely spewing words around. I practice what I preach, so I encourage each individual to explore life and discern that which is most suitable for his well-being and prosperity.

– Alyona

Something snapped, and I felt the known existential discomfort of looking for a purpose or something desirable, engaging, interesting, or entertaining to mind.

As I browsed through YouTube, I became aware that even frustration was created by me, not by life or the browser. That frustration and any other affliction only came into being as a reflection of my relationship with myself and my vision of reality.

Being aware of myself, I noticed how I was searching, but at the same time also mentally resisting taking something in and giving it an opportunity.

With this awareness, I consciously chose a video to watch and focus on or immerse myself in.

I felt the shift immediately: how tension and mental resistance dissolved into nothingness, and how the experience became more pleasant.

Out of the ordeal, I emerged with this:

Avoid the trap of searching mindlessly for something that can only be fixed from within. That is a distraction from what truly needs to be addressed. Also, stay clear of gathering or accumulating too much information just for the sake of it under the guise of “learning” or “education” when you have no clear vision for its use; for it may feel and be like you are perpetually preparing for a future that will never come. Pick one thing and stick with it until you master it, to then let it branch out.

Through your relationship with yourself and your vision of reality, the matter directs you back to mind the quality of your focus.

What you focus on is what you will materialize and experience. It is not a matter of any particular circumstance that determines your life experience, but rather how you relate to the experience – consciously or not.

So, how well can you sustain a constructive mental framework, and live your life lucidly while directly influencing it?

If you have to think about this question, start working on your ability to and quality of focus. Do not wait, postpone, or wish for another day, another time, or for the future that looms forever on the horizon. Wake up and be and do right now!

You have this moment right now to be productive with yourself in building up and refining your life.

Despite any and all existential discomforts, take a deep breath in while acknowledging the situation as you go within, and focus on something to get yourself ahead.

Always give yourself something to look forward to.

  • Pictures:
  1. https://pixabay.com/images/id-2471007/
  2. https://pixabay.com/images/id-3252371/
  3. https://pixabay.com/images/id-4393603/

A Little Bright Nothingness

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Cotton clouds thinly spread across the clear sky like a holed quilt through which some sun rays may still grace the land with warmth.

I put the crimson book down for a moment, partly dazzled by the light reaching the white pages, and partly due to entranced eyes and mind, still bearing the introspective silence of my previous meditation.

The universe breathes. On it goes the show of created life with its myriad coloured lights as it sits within the Eternal Void. In the heart of movement, there lies stillness, and so the observer gazes without disturbing her breathing.

The Selves of the Self at the Upward Dance!

Come hither, fine lads!
Gather ye 'round the Mad Theatre
At the advent of midnight.
Gather ye, for the show is about to start!

Each day I do something different.

Even when I still work on and finish what I set myself to do, each day I do something different.

The same stone is not to be stepped on twice, or least (and for better purposes), the same stone is not to be stepped on in the same manner: some days we jump on it; some days we walk on it; some days we dance on it; some days we fly with it; some days we caress it or meditate on it; some days we drive a hammer through it, and build something new out of it.

Each day I do something different.

I think I finally am glimpsing at the nature of cycles.

I read somewhere that a man cannot cross the same river twice. Similarly, the world and people are never the same from day to day. Change is always operating in life, vibration is in everything.

When I deem it substantial to start a project and ignite it, the same aspect of me who decides to initiate the project will not be the same aspect that will finish it. The successor aspects of the aspect of myself that initiated the project will be the ones to carry the project forward, work on it, adapt it, and bring it to completion.

The self is composed of many selves, all of which are vehicles for consciousness to express itself through. And each aspect is possessed of a particular nature, specializing in something particular in proportion to that nature. The selves of the self are fluid, and they overlap constantly. Although they may be known and defined varying in degree, they are still interconnected. Surely, Lover Me, Philosopher Me, and Wall-Spotter Me would not work in the same manner, or follow the same procedures because their characteristics differ from each other’s.

Image by Ruth Archer from Pixabay

Life is in constant flux and reflux. With each breath we are born anew, and that makes the NOW the only time that is. The echoes of the past slip away like water through our fingers, and the future is framed in parchment, in blood, in toil and stain, in bliss, and with all manner of appliance unseen or clear in the chamber of our minds.

Still, all moments happen in the NOW.

The world and what is thought of as reality will never be a piece of immovable brick. Even a brick is composed of energy vibrating at a certain rate. And if the world was “immovable”, neither life nor any kind of movement, neither change nor evolution would be because there would only be stasis in the nothingness of being.

So, why not get to know ourselves, and learn to harmonize and work with the myriad cycles of all there is to the advantage of our life’s adventure?

Why not have fun on purpose while we still breathe?

Why not make our existence a fulfilling one?

Your experiences are yours to devour, a gift from you to yourself.

Lotus: the Pull of the Deep

Velvet feathers quill

The canticles of ecstasy.

The ocean, still, breaths in

And out of me,

Reflected in every raindrop,

This July of mermaid lullabies and salty breeze.

Velvet feathers embosom me

In the temple of Divinity.

Quiet still, heartbeats shed tears of ancient bliss.

Quiet still, beauty bleeds pensively through the eyes of memory.

There, who birth gave to the First Swirls

Moves enchanted by life and lyric,

Storytelling the Ways of Mystery –

The Ubiquitous core of Eternity.

Two-fold Vision of Humanity

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

Midnight stroke a symphony of two-fold clarity, as I paced around in silence while everybody slept. How amusing and how horrific had the picture of humanity appeared before me!


To fulfil our physical sojourn in this world, we seek to make ourselves of value by way of choosing and polishing a craft from which to make a living and sustain ourselves.

Such beauty, is it not? To be able to freely sculpt a fine specimen of a life provided the right influences be present.


With a vision and a purpose, creativity would know no limits, and we would weep with joy at the realization of our potential expanding like supernovas in outer space.

And then it came to me that the body of knowledge that humanity cherishes, all its inventions, are the product of the imagination. From the most academic endeavours to the more overtly artistic expressions, everything we have and have done has had its origin in a thought which has preceded manifestation. All the great accomplishments have had as base someone who provided something which was not available before.

Suddenly, it made no sense to me that such a thing called a job would be so stiff.

It was then that horror supplanted hilarity. We look like figurines running around and groping in the darkness of ourselves and the world around us.

Not only are there no specific rules by which to design life, but our lives are dependent on our imagination and our creativity to build something quite magnificent out of it instead of solely relying on pre-established institutions perpetuating models of reality that may or may not be of value to our lives.

If all be dependent on a sparkling thought, the birth of a new idea via myriad media of inspiration, we would ultimately appoint ourselves to be the prime architect of our lives.

But what happens when man is unleashed in his full creative expression without an in-depth realization of himself and the possibilities all around?

The untold may ensue!

For one, the wild sense of freedom may become so overwhelming as for us to feel trapped with so much potential at the disposal of our judgement and creative flavour.

There would be no one else to point our finger at, as this freedom would become our undoing or our greatest tool for major transformation and empowerment directly from our hand.

Not only would we be responsible for ourselves, free from past conditioned shackles, but the world itself would make us responsible for ourselves.

And from this would emerge the prevailing tendency toward excellence, for once devoid of the distracting excuses and fears shrieking from the bowels of our own personal hells – an excellence geared toward our success and satisfaction once we have embraced ourselves and recognized that we have all we need to be content already within us.

Nocturne Shimmering

Image by Ina Hoekstra from Pixabay

Crystal diamonds in cello night by piano notes.

Kaleidoscopes of hidden sweetness dancing

On the blackened walls of turmoil.

Here I see you, brilliant ballerina.

Spell of poison kiss,

Your lips and myrrh weave tales

In this shadow trance procured

By shield from daylight wrath.

And here you dance in my arms,

Fruitful lover who by sinuous tongue

Parts the gates of bliss with longing.

Feel me here,

The breathing memory

Of ageless cognizance –

Trails of love mid-air swirling

Under pale moonlight and wordless lyrics.

Feel me here,

In nocturne reflections

By the fish-pond

Hunting after visions of soul:

Eternal home.

Ode to Blackness in Red

Image by Alyona Uramuru

Icy rings

As wreaths gleam

‘Round the waist of him,

The Dreaded and Sublime King.

What joy it is to peer

Into eyes of coal

As mirror-lake

Of soulful tale

In divine lore,

In truthful hope.

What boon it is to sing

The sagas of the warriors’ spleen

Wrought into halls of conquest

By iron art,

By lead and fire.

Salt on your Wounds

Image by Saulius Rozanas from Pixabay

I am

Salt on your wounds –

The sacred opiate

To your mortal tomb.

Linger on my kisses,

The ebony wedlock

Of your ethereal wishes.

~*~

I am

Salt on your wounds –

Poisoned goblet,

Watchful shadow enthused.

Linger on my kisses,

The ecstatic union of death

Devouring fears from night

‘Till the rise of day.

~*~

I am

Salt on your wounds –

The Darkness of your soul

Tearing down the prison of the world.

Linger on my kisses.

Taste the sap of my holy vileness,

Your rightful lover virgined in

Sin and satin.

~*~

I am

Salt in your wounds –

The forbidden fruit,

The gatekeeper and key

Of darksome tide love

And nighttime liberty.

Linger on my kisses,

Wintry lips whispering

Over casket wombs

Of eerie spring,

Of olden alchemy.

~*~

I am

And you are mine.

Image by Dieter Robbins from Pixabay