Poetic Verse

I know not how it is that we need an interpreter, but the great majority of men seem to be minors, who have not yet come into possession of their own, or mutes, who cannot report the conversation they have had with nature. There is no man who does not anticipate a supersensual utility with the sun, and stars, earth and water. These stand and wait to render him a peculiar service.

But there is some obstruction, or dome excess of phlegm in our constitution, which does not suffer them to yield the due effect. Too feeble fall the impressions on us artists. Every touch should thrill. Every man should be so much an artist, that he could report in conversation what had befallen him. Yet, in our experience, the rays or appulses have sufficient force to arrive at the senses, but not enough to reach the quick, and compel the reproduction of themselves in speech.

Ralph Waldo Emerson in his 1844 essay, The Poet is highlighting an important self-inflicted belief about the self. We believe artists are special, and we are empty of creative expression. We find genius in the thoughts of others, but dismiss the genius within the self. Connected consciousness does not discriminate or judge. We have our own free will and write a story about the self and live it creatively in order to experience the waves of emotion that signal the presence of another story.

Music is language. Painting is language, and most of all thought is language that creates the experiences of cellular and non-physical expansion. Forms, colors, shapes, and shadows contain the consciousness of creativity, and we are connected and participate in this display of contrast and challenges so we recognize the far greater expression of selfhood that waits to be utilized. But, time is the culprit that spoils the expression, since we feel there is only a limited amount of it.

The self can achieve all mental, physical, and biological activities without feeling a sense of worthlessness when we consider that we all have a deep psychic and biological connection, and each one of us paints part of the world picture in a slightly different and sometimes strange way.

The people living in any century experience certain challenges that are the result of private challenges. Those challenges are best worked out with a certain kind of individual framework. Time is meant to be utilized as a method of focus; a divider like a room divider that separates purposes rather than furniture. Each brush stroke in this world painting is a creative work of art that is connected in a unique relationship; like the cells have with one another. This individual creativity is for the fulfillment of the self at a given point in our self-created reality.We always use it in our own poetic verse.