Spiritual Stories

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Let it all pour out

posted 7 May 2015, 10:38 by Tim Elliston   [ updated 13 May 2015, 11:11 ]

By Jennifer Lyall

Pick up a pen and put it to paper

And let the words flow gracefully.

Watch your pen dance with each word.

Let it all pour out

It's time for your soul to be heard.

Pick up a crayon and draw a little picture.

Use colours, lines, shapes and shades.

Let the magic fill your creation.

Let it all pour out

It's time for your soul to reach a new vibration.

Sing your song, shout out loud, hum, chant and make a beat.

Let the rhythm sway you.

And the song embrace you.

Let is all pour out

It's time for your soul to renew.

Move your body, let it sway this way and that.

With music, in silence, alone or in a group.

Let this vessel for your soul reach, stretch, shimmy and shake, let got of control.

Let it all pour out

It's time to feel your soul.

Get creative.

Let it all flow.

Express yourself in whatever means your soul desires.

Let it all pour out

Feed your soul and fuel the fire.

Jennifer Lyall

The Invitation

posted 7 May 2015, 10:35 by Tim Elliston   [ updated 13 May 2015, 11:13 ]

By Oriah

It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon...
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.

It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.

By Oriah from her book, THE INVITATION (c)1999. Published by HarperONE,
San Francisco. All rights reserved. Presented with permission of the author.

Should I be here?

posted 7 May 2015, 10:34 by Tim Elliston   [ updated 13 May 2015, 11:14 ]

By Craig Ruvere

I roam through the hall, under the moonlight,

It chimes after three and I wait for your call.

I gaze at the stars, this magical light,

Will keep me composed as I comfort my heart.

But should I be angry that you’re not with me?

And should I be frightened by my jealousy?

But should I be here?

I crawl on the floor, then wipe away tears,

Caused from a note that I found on my door.

I study your words, I know them by heart,

The one part of you that could never be heard.

But could I be wrong with this feeling inside?

And could I be right about being denied?

But should I be here, away from my slumber.

One with the night, to live like no other.

Should I be here?

I force my eyes closed, and try to escape,

All these emotions that I won’t let go.

I scream in my room, until I am found,

This light brings the day I am forced to resume.

But should I be anxious from a night all alone?

And should I be weary from life on my own?

But should I be here, away from my slumber.

One with the night, to live like no other.

Should I be here, controlled by your power.

Creating a dream, that grows by the hour.

Should I be here?

I walk through the hall, under the moonlight,

It chimes after three and yet I still remain.

Copyright 2010 Craig Ruvere 

Being Human

posted 7 May 2015, 10:32 by Tim Elliston   [ updated 13 May 2015, 11:15 ]

By Louise Jensen

Dr. Serena Jones rolled over and glanced at the clock beside her. 8.15 am, precisely 2 hours to the monthly New World Ruling Committee meeting. Grabbing the piece of paper next to the bed she sighed as she started to reread the NWRC Agenda for 1st January 4013. Item one was to discuss the outlawing of all emotions.

Ever since scientists had found a way to neutralise all brain activity relating to emotional functioning there had been great worldwide debate. There were those who thought it would be an empty and meaningless existence without true emotion.  The opposition believed that taking this ability away would save time spent analysing feelings therefore increasing productivity. Additionally, ways to preserve and safeguard both the planet and the human race, could be decided upon based on fact without sentimentality clouding logic. War would surely end with no hate to spawn violence.

Serena firmly believed that to be human was to feel. The Chairman was devoutly opposed and the other members probably had a great deal of splinters the amount of time they spent sitting on the fence.

By 10.10 Serena was sat around the large circular table at the NWRC headquarters. Cameras were strategically placed around the room. The debate would be broadcast onto large screens placed in public areas in various cities around the world. Televisions’ had long since been outlawed for individual dwellings, alongside all other forms of media. The earth’s population was only privy to whatever information the NWRC wanted to release. In addition to only being allowed to watch what was considered non-controversial viewing material, the people themselves were observed at all times.

The Chairman had made sure each household was aware of today’s debate, confident that each one would have suffered in some way (as he had) and would want to see emotions banished for future generations. There was no formal voting system in place. Giving the people a say had proved disastrous in the past but it would help his waning popularity somewhat if he was deemed to listen to the majority. He was certain they would all back him. Emotional outbursts had no place in his envisaged future world. As far as he was concerned feelings were outdated, didn’t serve any purpose and it was time for a change.

“Right” said The Chairman. “Emotion is a subjective, conscious experience and in my opinion a complete waste of time. What are your thoughts please?”

And so began the debate which raged for days and days. No one had quite seen anything like it. It surpassed the record for the longest ever meeting which was when chocolate was outlawed. The Chairman patted his now trim waist, what a blessing that was.

Words were bandied about with alarming speed. It was like a game of vocabulary volleyball. Anxiety, depression, faith, love, desire, hate, passion, lust, anger, joy. The Chairman had, in his lifetime, experienced them all, but now his heart was hard and his tolerance low.

“I’ve heard enough”, he suddenly boomed. “It’s all very commendable but ultimately the decision is mine and I choose ….”

“Excuse me Sir”, a nervous guard entered the room “there’s singing”.

“What do you mean singing” asked the Chairman outraged?  “Singing is highly illegal. Arrest them at once”.

The guard’s eyes darted anxiously around the room. “We can’t Sir, there’s too many of them”.

“What do you mean?” demanded the Chairman.

The guard shuffled over to the screens on the walls and one by one switched them on. A hush fell over the room as they watched in awe. Crowds of people were gathered in the cities squares around the world. Some with candles or lighters and others were playing illicit instruments. There were millions of men, women and children of different races but they were all singing the same prohibited song; ‘All you need is Love’.

As he watched the Chairman felt the barriers he had erected to protect his heart fall away as he began to recall the long buried feeling of hope.  Something wet and alien slid down his face. It was a tear.

He observed the power of a collective consciousness and years of hurt, bitterness and disappointment were stripped away leaving only one thing; an open heart. He recognised that all the problems in the world couldn’t be solved by love but realised they could be made better, bearable if everyone was united. He had wanted to remove emotions not for protection but because of fear, his fear of being unhappy but he now understood you couldn’t experience true happiness without sometimes feeling the polar opposite.

He cleared his throat. “As I was saying before we were interrupted”, he continued “the decision is mine and I choose…..” he stumbled over his words but swallowing the lump in his throat he continued, “I choose to love”.  Ignoring the ensuing gasp that echoed around the room he screwed up the agenda, threw it neatly into the bin and headed for the door. “Oh and Serena”, he called over his shoulder “you best start up production in the chocolate factories again”.

copyright 2013 Louise Jensen

The Butterfly

posted 7 May 2015, 10:31 by Tim Elliston   [ updated 13 May 2015, 11:16 ]

By an unknown author

A man found a cocoon of a butterfly. He sat and watched the butterfly for several hours as it struggled to force its body through the little hole at the end.

Eventually, the butterfly stopped making progress. It appeared as if it had gotten as far as it could and it could go no farther. The man decided to help the butterfly, so he took a pair of scissors and snipped off the remaining bit of the cocoon. The butterfly then emerged easily, but it had a swollen body and small, shriveled wings.

The man continued to watch the butterfly because he expected that, at any moment, the wings would enlarge and expand to be able to support the body, which would contract in time.

Neither happened! In fact, the butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling around with a swollen body and shriveled wings. It never was able to fly.

What the man in his kindness and haste did not understand was that the restricting cocoon and the struggle required for the butterfly to get through the tiny opening were nature's way of forcing fluid from the body of the butterfly into its wings so that it would be ready for flight once it achieved its freedom from the cocoon.

Sometimes struggles are exactly what we need in our life. If nature allowed us to go through our life without any obstacles, it would cripple us. We would not be as strong as what we could have been. And we could never fly...

This Moment

posted 7 May 2015, 10:30 by Tim Elliston   [ updated 13 May 2015, 11:17 ]

By Louise Jensen

Fear overwhelms me,

And resides inside,

I don't feel safe,

I run and hide.

Darkness surrounds me,

Like a cloak from the past,

My future's uncertain,

Will anything last?

I want to surrender,

Do I know how?

I breathe and relax,

And come back to Now.

This moment is all,

That anyone needs,

Love and peace,

My being they feed.

copyright 2012 Louise Jensen

Miraculous Life

posted 7 May 2015, 10:29 by Tim Elliston   [ updated 13 May 2015, 11:18 ]

By Josephine Bila

We have been given a gift,
although quite concealed.
A miracle of life,
through close sight revealed.

Don't lean on your pain,
for that pain is blind.
Enjoy every moment,
don't identify with your mind.

You mustn't get caught up!
Just allow the world to be.
Then you will experience a life beyond,
the "tiny little me."

Josephine Bila


posted 7 May 2015, 10:28 by Tim Elliston   [ updated 13 May 2015, 11:23 ]

By Louise Jensen

The disillusioned young man trudged wearily down the path, shoulders slumped and head down as he fought against the weather. He reached a crossroads. Using the last of his rapidly depleting energy he forced himself to look up to read the signpost. One arrow pointed towards hope, another to peace, the way from which he had come was pointing to love, the last arrow showed him the way to faith.

He was trying to escape his past, escape himself, where should he go? As he contemplated the available routes he realised he didn’t quite believe the directions. Come from love? That’s wasn’t how it was back at home. His family constantly fought, he had lost his job and he didn’t feel his wife loved him anymore. Figuring it didn’t really matter much which route he chose he set off in the direction of hope.

After several miles the man reached another crossroads. Confusingly the signs read trust, honour, joy and, pointing directly to him was love. “love can’t be that way” he thought “that way should point towards hope. I haven’t passed it yet and now I have missed out on hope”.

Sighing heavily he dragged his weary body towards joy. After several more miles he came to another crossroads. He tutted crossly when he realised that love was again pointing directly to the path he was on. He appraised the other choices, compassion, dignity and enlightenment.

This was an easy choice to make. Turning up his collar to keep out the wind and the rain the man set off on the path towards enlightenment.

He reached a fourth crossroads, but this time every choice was love. Angrily he kicked the wooden post, cursing as he hurt his toe.

Hopping around he noticed an old man sitting on a rock under the tentative rays of the sun.

“What’s wrong?” asked the man.

“It’s these stupid signs” the young man said.” I wanted enlightenment but every road now appears to lead to love.  I ignored all the other choices to get here, I have missed out on hope, peace, faith, trust, honour, joy, compassion and dignity. Now I am not even enlightened”.

The old man smiled. “Son the starting point to all of those things is love. You keep going in the opposite direction to love, avoiding all signs but somehow hoping you can have hope, peace, faith, trust, honour, joy, compassion and dignity. How can that be without love? You can’t run away from yourself because you don’t feel anymore. Why are you trying to get ‘there’? How will you feel differently ‘there’? What if ‘there is here and it has been all along and you just need to open your heart to truly see?”

The young man thought about his life. How bitter he had become when he lost his job. How emasculated and angry he felt all the time. How badly he had treated those that loved him. He had pushed their love away like it was worthless because he didn’t love himself. He realised the man was right. Love isn’t a direction, something you can chase. The arrows weren’t pointing to a direction they were pointing towards him. Everything he had been trying to find had been inside of himself all along.

He looked up and smiled at the rainbow stretching out above him. He thought about how beautiful his life was when he loved and respected himself, how differently others behaved towards him. With gratitude in his heart, and a knowing that it was never too late, he turned around and headed home.

copyright 2012 Louise Jensen

Glorious Love

posted 7 May 2015, 10:27 by Tim Elliston   [ updated 13 May 2015, 11:21 ]

By Finley (age 6)

My 6 year old son Finley proudly came out of his bedroom this morning brandishing his first ever attempt at poetry. I may be a bit (ok a lot) biased but I actually think it's pretty good. How could I not include it? Hope you enjoy it, love Louise.

Love, love, glorious love,

No-one can take it away,

Love, love it’s totally free.

Love, love, magical love,

There’s nothing quite like it,

It’s wonderful, love.

The one I've been waiting for

posted 7 May 2015, 10:26 by Tim Elliston   [ updated 13 May 2015, 11:23 ]

By Louise Jensen

You come to me in my dreams; I don't see you but I feel you, touching my face, whispering the things I need to hear.  You make my heart race and my soul shine.  I feel I could be happy.  I don't deserve to be happy. You calm the inner turmoil bringing the tranquillity I have been craving but have been unable to obtain.  Who are you?

I desperately search for you everywhere I go.  I want my dreams to become a reality and yet apprehensive that if they do I would disappoint you the way I've always disappointed myself. Where are you?  

I feel you know me and yet how can you know me and still want me?  Still be here? I hover from peacefulness in your presence to panic that I cannot be who you think I am.  Who do you think I am?  

I want to tell you everything and nothing.  I wish you could crawl inside me and feel what I feel. I long for you to just know without the need for explanations and recriminations.  Do you think I am so benevolent? What if I’m not?  What if I’m not who you think I am?    Who am I?

Do you look at me and see something good?  I really want to be the girl you see.  For her to exist would be like scrubbing out the dark side of me and filling it with light, a thousand dancing angels spreading joy and love.  I am tainted and you are too late to be my salvation.  Redemption is not always deserved and anyway I have done little to earn it.  What do you expect from me?

Last night I again felt your soft touch on my cheek bringing comfort where there was fear, calm where there was anger, making me the person I want to be.  I need you.  Do you need me?

I reach out for you, I want to touch you, to feel you, to be you.  I love you. Do you love me?

The bright light disappears and you come into focus.  I find myself staring into my own eyes.  Confusion fades as realisation dawns.  I understand that I have been so caught up with watching the demons behind me I didn't see the angels up ahead.  I had got so scared to feel, so shut off to my own existence that I lost sight of who I really am.  I had the light within me all the time I just needed, to forgive myself, to love myself.  I accept I am good enough.  I am enough.

I am filled with knowing, the understanding that the one whose love, acceptance and kindness I need is me. I am the one I have been waiting for. Overwhelming feelings of love wash over me and I can feel my body filling with an inner peace as my negativity and self-loathing quietly slip away.

I awake.  I can feel. I am home.  I am whole.

copyright 2012 Louise Jensen

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