Lighting the world with words.
The Wizard - A Fairytale
There once lived a true wizard. Not the scruffy, decrepit kind so often revered in song and verse. A vital, vivid wizard of words, master of movement, teller of tales, visiting his vibrancy on all he met. With the wind he wandered through the land, his existence exalting the very essence of energy. His body lean, his manner charmed, he quietly woke the world to the wonders of his mysteries.
Over time and travels he wove a web of contentment and joy, sparkling his sprinklings of wisdom upon the palettes of the lives around him, ever reminding the people of who they were. Bringing the blessings of the bard, he offered humility in the face of the mounting hubris surrounding him.
These were times of momentous change. The energy was shifting, reality altering. That which had happily existed in rapturous freedom was moving away from the commonly acknowledged ideas of reality. The vagaries were creating a veil of fear, hiding the mysteries of faith in the mist. Yet the talisman of the Taliesin held the prayer and the promise of the oracle in his dream of the dragon’s breath. Through his maddening utter lack of conventionality, he entwined a thrilling pattern of wonderment into the support of the world.
Though he knew them not well, he was the protector of the people’s creation, conscious and unconscious. He held their need and desire to give their lives meaning through their charity of creative spirit in the wake of the mounting storm of conventionality. Always this conjurer questioned which was the casualty in their lives of commerce; the creation, the creativity, or the creator. He knew the answer lay in excavating yesterday’s forgotten dreams and tomorrow’s ill-placed promise.
In his way, the diviner of wisdom understood their lost faith and artistry as the misaligned dome of a baby stuck, not slipping from the inner sanctum of the womb to the screaming air of life. He knew he must mark his world as the midwife of mankind’s imagination.
From fantasy the wizard drew his breath and blood in the slow, supple expansion of the dragon’s inspiration. The flavors of life and love, pain and promise, happiness and hatred all lived in that breeze. If he could but teach of the trust in the balance of all things which opened his own heart to the magic of the mysteries, the people need not negate their faith for fear. Indeed, he would blissfully bestow his insight, as it is through creation mere mortals may echo the symmetry within the intent and divinity of the universe.
This dragon wizard’s lair held not the jewels and gold of possessive obsession. Instead, he guarded the treasures of truth. He knew the peace found through acknowledging circumstances, accepting all that is, and allowing time and space to spin and turn events to their natural conclusion. With his slow, deep dragon’s breath, he held an understanding of the integrity established from waiting for the moment to mature into action. Never jumping to justice, he lingered until the forces of fate had shown their favor to move.
And so, as time ripened the wizard formulated his strategy to open the people’s hearts. He wished them to witness the magnificence of motion, the timbre of tone, the glory of glowing color found within themselves.
The enchanter encountered his vision through reflection and prayer, observation and awareness, acceptance and growth. Substantiating the resultant alchemy, he created according to the vision of his soul, elevating the ordinary to the delightful.
The wizard wrote in words wrought from his heart, forming whimsical fantasies in pictures of his passions to maintain his message. He shifted within his soul’s sweet song, drawing dreams of dance from his daily adventures. He used his precious state of present meditation to monitor the forces surrounding him, exercising that energy in every aspect of his invention. Within the balance of reality, his life became a journey of constant symbols, illuminating with echoes of existence in the one.
He wrote of the nothing that is everything and of the generation of the justborn. He composed heartfelt pathways and curls of cravings. Of funnies and fancies he inscribed his reflections.
Finally, in waves of rampant nirvanic epiphany and clarity of being, the conjurer completed his collage of creation. The wonder of his wizardry and alchemy actualized an extraordinary enchantment to entice the masses. He banded the bliss of words with his masterful movement in dance. He illuminated the vision of his voice with illustrations. He styled his sympathy with sign. He thrust his truth into the world with the transcendence of joy. He felt within this fusion he could inspire sincere creative possibility in the hearts of others.
With all the charm and grace notable in his nobility of spirit, the wizard opened his offering in performance for the people. As he presented his poetry and prose, he aroused them to the oneness of being true to their spirits, true to their essence, true to the universe – their own source of life. He awakened them to their reality, their personal truth and all the truth surrounding them. He offered them the perfection of pleasure. He offered them their own creation.
The people were awed by all they saw and heard and felt in the wizard’s performance. The dragon had drawn his enchantment from and through their existence. Their veils were lifted for a while – longer a time for some, shorter for others.
Those who chose remained open to their own origin found in the wizard’s words. They would be forever true to the universal power of their creation.
Others felt no comfort, but fear in the infinity of creative eternity. Although the wizard reassured them of the fundamental freedom from fear befitting their beings, they instead chose to become one with fear’s limitations and refute their faith.
The wizard could only believe, while drawing his perpetually patient dragon’s breath, that the cost of the consummate consumption of commerce on the soul would not be the dearth and death of the people’s creation. He yearned for no casualty of the creation, the creativity, or the creator in their lives. Perhaps his presentations of love and kindness would one day win their freedom from fear. He could but hope…..
It has been many lifetimes since the wizard first opened his essence for the salvation of the world’s soul. The contest has continued through millennia – fear or freedom – first one side stronger, then the other. Yet the force of the wizard’s wish remains with us even now. Occasionally, once in a great while, we’re granted an opportunity to witness a thinning of the veil and glimpse the glory of grace the wizard so carefully preserved for us all. It remains our gift from him to receive at will.
Over time and travels he wove a web of contentment and joy, sparkling his sprinklings of wisdom upon the palettes of the lives around him, ever reminding the people of who they were. Bringing the blessings of the bard, he offered humility in the face of the mounting hubris surrounding him.
These were times of momentous change. The energy was shifting, reality altering. That which had happily existed in rapturous freedom was moving away from the commonly acknowledged ideas of reality. The vagaries were creating a veil of fear, hiding the mysteries of faith in the mist. Yet the talisman of the Taliesin held the prayer and the promise of the oracle in his dream of the dragon’s breath. Through his maddening utter lack of conventionality, he entwined a thrilling pattern of wonderment into the support of the world.
Though he knew them not well, he was the protector of the people’s creation, conscious and unconscious. He held their need and desire to give their lives meaning through their charity of creative spirit in the wake of the mounting storm of conventionality. Always this conjurer questioned which was the casualty in their lives of commerce; the creation, the creativity, or the creator. He knew the answer lay in excavating yesterday’s forgotten dreams and tomorrow’s ill-placed promise.
In his way, the diviner of wisdom understood their lost faith and artistry as the misaligned dome of a baby stuck, not slipping from the inner sanctum of the womb to the screaming air of life. He knew he must mark his world as the midwife of mankind’s imagination.
From fantasy the wizard drew his breath and blood in the slow, supple expansion of the dragon’s inspiration. The flavors of life and love, pain and promise, happiness and hatred all lived in that breeze. If he could but teach of the trust in the balance of all things which opened his own heart to the magic of the mysteries, the people need not negate their faith for fear. Indeed, he would blissfully bestow his insight, as it is through creation mere mortals may echo the symmetry within the intent and divinity of the universe.
This dragon wizard’s lair held not the jewels and gold of possessive obsession. Instead, he guarded the treasures of truth. He knew the peace found through acknowledging circumstances, accepting all that is, and allowing time and space to spin and turn events to their natural conclusion. With his slow, deep dragon’s breath, he held an understanding of the integrity established from waiting for the moment to mature into action. Never jumping to justice, he lingered until the forces of fate had shown their favor to move.
And so, as time ripened the wizard formulated his strategy to open the people’s hearts. He wished them to witness the magnificence of motion, the timbre of tone, the glory of glowing color found within themselves.
The enchanter encountered his vision through reflection and prayer, observation and awareness, acceptance and growth. Substantiating the resultant alchemy, he created according to the vision of his soul, elevating the ordinary to the delightful.
The wizard wrote in words wrought from his heart, forming whimsical fantasies in pictures of his passions to maintain his message. He shifted within his soul’s sweet song, drawing dreams of dance from his daily adventures. He used his precious state of present meditation to monitor the forces surrounding him, exercising that energy in every aspect of his invention. Within the balance of reality, his life became a journey of constant symbols, illuminating with echoes of existence in the one.
He wrote of the nothing that is everything and of the generation of the justborn. He composed heartfelt pathways and curls of cravings. Of funnies and fancies he inscribed his reflections.
Finally, in waves of rampant nirvanic epiphany and clarity of being, the conjurer completed his collage of creation. The wonder of his wizardry and alchemy actualized an extraordinary enchantment to entice the masses. He banded the bliss of words with his masterful movement in dance. He illuminated the vision of his voice with illustrations. He styled his sympathy with sign. He thrust his truth into the world with the transcendence of joy. He felt within this fusion he could inspire sincere creative possibility in the hearts of others.
With all the charm and grace notable in his nobility of spirit, the wizard opened his offering in performance for the people. As he presented his poetry and prose, he aroused them to the oneness of being true to their spirits, true to their essence, true to the universe – their own source of life. He awakened them to their reality, their personal truth and all the truth surrounding them. He offered them the perfection of pleasure. He offered them their own creation.
The people were awed by all they saw and heard and felt in the wizard’s performance. The dragon had drawn his enchantment from and through their existence. Their veils were lifted for a while – longer a time for some, shorter for others.
Those who chose remained open to their own origin found in the wizard’s words. They would be forever true to the universal power of their creation.
Others felt no comfort, but fear in the infinity of creative eternity. Although the wizard reassured them of the fundamental freedom from fear befitting their beings, they instead chose to become one with fear’s limitations and refute their faith.
The wizard could only believe, while drawing his perpetually patient dragon’s breath, that the cost of the consummate consumption of commerce on the soul would not be the dearth and death of the people’s creation. He yearned for no casualty of the creation, the creativity, or the creator in their lives. Perhaps his presentations of love and kindness would one day win their freedom from fear. He could but hope…..
It has been many lifetimes since the wizard first opened his essence for the salvation of the world’s soul. The contest has continued through millennia – fear or freedom – first one side stronger, then the other. Yet the force of the wizard’s wish remains with us even now. Occasionally, once in a great while, we’re granted an opportunity to witness a thinning of the veil and glimpse the glory of grace the wizard so carefully preserved for us all. It remains our gift from him to receive at will.
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