Even if a story isn’t true, it might be. Truth is something held in perspective. And the world is round, there are infinite perspectives. The Universe is constantly expanding, and so too must be the Truth.
In a book or a painting, say, of a historical place we can still visit today, one may look at the scene and say, Well, the mountain isn’t exactly like he’s painted it. But the painting—the impression—is still True. Or, we may believe a certain passage in a book unfolded in a different manner, and yet the author manages to convey the same feeling—the Truth—of that moment. In this way, Truth is not about exacting details or data. Truth is about the over-arching intention. Truth is about the higher picture. Truth is about the frequency (vibration). Truth is about the heart and quintessence of the subject.
Artist as Instrument
I have just finished reading Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal, the ‘made up’ book by Christopher Moore. He tell us clearly, more than once, that he ‘made it up.’ And I believe him. I believe that’s what he believes. What he doesn’t know, or chooses not to share, is awareness of a greater, higher Truth. Another Truth, which may be that he was an instrument. Unconscious or not, it doesn’t really matter.
When we are in a moment (minutes, months or weeks) of inspiration, we are quite literally ‘in spirit.’ We are tapped in to something greater. Perhaps it is an over-arching consciousness or our higher selves. Maybe it is what some call God or that invisible universal time-space fabric where quantum physics plays out with sub-atomic photons behaving as both particle and or light under different circumstances (Yes, I am a lover of things quantum – learn about wave-particle duality here).
When we are tapped in, tuned-in, to that frequency, inspired work comes forth. Art can pour out. Words stream. Genius leaks all over our notebooks. Inventions crystallize out of thin air.
And we write books and conjure stories that we believe we’ve ‘made up.’
We think we may be ‘imagining something’ or perhaps we are ‘seeing things’ that don’t exist. But of course they exist, evidenced by the fact we are seeing them. Just because I can’t see the man around the corner from where I am standing, but you can, does not mean the man doesn’t exist. Plus, seeing is not exclusively with the eyes. We see Truth in things. We see goodness in actions. We see gratitude in someone’s grace. We see appreciation in thoughtfulness. We see much that by definition is invisible.
Some time ago, I may have been shown a story and I may have believed it was made up. By me. Either I made it up or I saw what was invisibly there. And I wonder now, if I believe that I ‘made it up,’ then perhaps it was just as Christopher Moore (mistakenly) believes; that he conjured the story from his imagination.
We may not always know when we are being ‘used’ (in the most loving way) as a messenger. But when a message comes, we must deliver it. When we receive a message, whether conscious of it or not, I think we feel right. We feel drawn, held gently, bolstered, encouraged, supported. This doesn’t exclude feeling fearful at times, feeling doubt, feeling wobbly and concerned. It just means that the former outshines the latter, and we take another step forward with our message.
Write the Letters
People have told me about, encouraged me with, and gifted me with certain kinds of books. Books written sometimes as fiction-cloaked Truth, sometimes as channeled information, sometimes as fiction pretending to be Truth that’s cloaked as fiction, and sometimes—like Lamb—as fiction unaware it bears Truth.
And this time I’m noticing it.
The question is, then, what to write when you don’t know what the message is?
Right here in this moment whilst writing I’ve just been ‘shown’ an envelope. I am told inside is a message I am to deliver. The envelope is empty. I keep looking in it, and every time it is empty. How am I to deliver a message when it is blank?
And then I recall the phrase I’ve heard ‘in my head’ for years. That string of words that doesn’t go away: Write the letters.
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