Imaginotions: Part Eight

  As soon as long ago I desired a flower that could speak. Strange it was. I knew not to speak of it to anyone. I would be thought odd. Insane. Insane. Yet the floral     did     speak. What it said had been of William Blake and the poets of old.            It spoke associated with natural beauty, easy becoming, quiet life. No effort. No stress. It grew and blossomed naturally, quickly, without fuss or strain or worry or doubt. I might look at the flower and wonder what else it had to state. Perhaps if we most looked at every thing residing, and waited, it will all speak. Flowers. Trees. Birds. Butterflies. Clouds. Rocks. Rainfall. Sun. It all kept wisdom, simplicity, truth.            Just about all we had to do was watch and wait, listen and hear. One day I chose to test this concept. I looked at a good insect walking on the floor outside, going exactly where only it knew. It stopped. It may have got felt my stare. I looked. We waited. And the insect seemed to convey the truth. Working was not work to it. It was simply doing that which was natural for him/her to do. No worrying of low spend or bad hrs or boring repetitious activity. It was a good insect. It worked and lived as an insect. I sensed the knowing of the mind without comments.            Simply do your point.     If you are a writer, then write. If you are a baker, then bake. In case you are a pilot, then fly.     All the second speculating and wondering precisely why simply gummed in the process if not actually stopped it. And so the flower spoke. But as I listened, We heard the world wake up. Was it just me? Or would you hear it too?     Ao Akua,         Doctor Joe     PS - Reminder:      

Note : Other Imaginotions by Dr . Joe Vitale                     

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