Category: Meditations Monday

God works in tandem with the Chosen.

If you have been keeping up with the IndianRock.art story, thank you. I know that it helps, and that you will find your way to help others find their way. As for myself, I am retreating into meditation. No further posts will be published until the first snows.

Meditation

It is in Meditation that humanity will learn to adhere to set boundaries, boundaries within the mind. For, they cannot be forced upon a people. Instead, they must be freely acknowledged, and it is in this reckoning, individually and collectively, that the miraculous healing begins. For us, brothers and sisters, in these times, this is the way.

For, without Meditation within the Church, the shadow grows.

Throughout history, there have been common men, chosen. These few have laid the steppingstones for the ones, yet to be, chosen in these latter days. Beautiful and painful it must have been- their mission- and misunderstood through the ages, they were taken. Yet, ascend they did. To those few, the ones that remain glowing in the glory of Truth and held sacred in the prayers of the ones that believe, we shed our ego; and so, become that of the face and hearts of children. -Paul Marak

Existing within the works and acts of men, there is the language of geometry.

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IndianRock.art – Brown Stone

This stone has been in my hand the longest. It fits perfectly, like it was meant to be.

Transparency is key. For, in the light, the people will see all; and in so, there is no hiding the Truth.

Believing that it can be done, is the first step.

Last week, while prepping the grounds for lot #4, at The Keys, I collected some stones from below the surface, just back of the bunkhouse. After washing the dirt away, I noticed a hole in one of the stones, a stone that will, later, prove to share characteristics with the Cornerstone and 33-degree STAR.

So, last week, I went to move the stealth camper and the bunkhouse to the new spot, near the entrance, at the key turnaround. It is one of the few areas at IndianRock.art, where the grade is flat enough to be considered a building spot. This area, christened ‘The Keys’, consist of several small lots. Lot number four is the far most, to the southeast. It is nestled within the young trees, brambles, and such. A path of ancient stones, scattered about, leads down from #4, into the ravine, thought to be a very old rock quarry.

Up top, there is an all-embracing old oak in the center of the key, where the lots set lining the ridge, east to west. After traversing the camper and bunkhouse to this area, I chose #4 as their new resting place.

To level the bunkhouse, I used cinderblocks and had to level some dirt and stone in order to get them plumb. In the process, I removed a dozen stones. In the spirit of ‘leaving no stone unturned’, I collected them for analysis.

After washing the dirt away, I noticed a hole in one of the stones. “How peculiar”, I thought. So, I checked to see if I could locate the stones that were used to create this hole. …a few hours later.

After some inspection, and as before, I believe the surrounding stones are a mixture of carved representations, stone tools, and variants of the two, and that they are the very tools that carved into the very same set of stones. Of course, I’ve only completed a partial preliminary inspection of these 12 stones and less of lot #4, so I could be wrong.

When I focus on the path of Christ, the path provides for my focus. -Paul Marak

I have never lost the Seers way, strengthened more, since that day. I am humbled in carved reflection yet steadfast as a warrior’s direction. As God is my witness, the blossoming rose will come to be. Through Christ: the Cornerstone. …He gifted me the key. -Paul Marak

I look forward to the gathering. Together, may you all unite and find peace.

Left and right join to cradle the precious stone.

IndianRock.art

I’ve often wondered about the big black birds soaring over IndianRock.art. At times, I find them perched atop a dead tree by the river’s bend. By morning, they trail behind the squawking crows and the early songbirds that fill the forest with sounds of a merry day. They, these black birds, commonly known as turkey vultures, with wing spans nearing six feet, ride the warming current upwards, circling around IndianRock.art.

Most of the time, over the years, I have ignored these majestic soaring birds. Lately, however, I have given them a longer glance, and over the past year, or so, I have developed a relationship with a few… as much of a relationship as a grounded bird can establish with birds of flight.

At first, I would yell at them, pointing upwards and waving my arms about. To no avail, they did not see me, or they just didn’t care; besides though, why would they pay any attention to me? They have their lives, and I have not anything to offer. I cannot fly. I can’t be like them. I don’t look like them. I don’t think like them. No matter. I kept trying.

Then one day, as they were circling high above me, I decided to try again, to garner their attention. I stretched my arms out and started to run in circles. Holy cow! They watched me dancing about. I could see them doing a doubletake, before flying off into the distance. I had made contact! I was so excited.

Over the following months, I would dance in circles whenever they flew over. The black birds would mimic my movements, or maybe it was the other way around. …not sure. One thing I was sure about, was that they acknowledged my existence. Not just that, they understood that I was trying to communicate with them. Even though we are different, they no longer ignored me. It was a mutual respect, between a grounded soul and the ones that fly without effort. I love those birds for that.

Anyways, my dancing about, when the black birds fly over, hasn’t stopped. They dance with me. We circle about. And when I return from a long trip, they recognize this. They remember me. They gather. They love me for who I am. They don’t want to change me. They except me, and we dance. What a wonderful relationship, and what an awesome feeling not to be ignored.

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I came to Missouri to meditate, to form some type of offgrid retirement, and to offer my daughter a piece of land next to her brother. The events that led to this extraordinary discovery, IndianRock.art, is the work of God, a discovery I call ‘the path of Christ’. -Paul Marak

A dozen years ago, it was my Master that told me(referencing the journey of crossing life’s river and instead of just crossing the river in faith) “Mr. Marak, you have to pick up all of the rocks and inspect them.” I am floored by that statement, considering my current situation. In reflection and in honor of his teachings, this is how I would respond: It is the blessing of the Holy Spirit that keeps me in the ‘now’, with God, all else is attachment to the suffering and not of the Christ; that is to say,

…all else is attachment to the past and the future. Those things are of the mind and not of the way.

If the past hurts so much, why hold on to it? For, it keeps one from ascending, like a bird.

birdman sketch is a rendition of another artist’ work, not sure where from.

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Holy Land – IndianRock.art – Missouri, USA

This morning: the sky gray, the rain falls, and the thunder echoes behind the blanket of my unsettling uncertainty. …my unknown inevitability. Suddenly, the thunder cracks! “Is this a sign?”, in my room starring into the device’ illuminated abyss, I ponder. “Does only my fate know of its own destination?” Then, from my heart, a small voice speaks: “It is from wisdom that you firmly step, and through unwavering Faith that you carry-on this way.“

Rich in Christ

I am rich with blessings from the Creator. My plate abundant in knowing, and my cup runneth over with compassion, empathy, and pity. My body strong, my mind sharp, and all my senses aligned. I am rich. I am rich in Christ. To this, I testify.

I have been given a glimpse: a snapshot of the beginnings of humanity, with the lefthanded hunter; and from the Earth, a clip of the shadow rearing up its many heads. And in visions, my heart bled upon the dagger of the mighty Thunder Being. To this, I testify.

The sky opened to a ray of light, then the Great Spirit spoke to me. To this, I testify. Later and in unison, the Angelic ones spoke the name- ‘Jesus’. To this, I testify. I am to complete a Work, a work for Humanity, a work of Meditation. To this, I testify.

In the tiny gardenhouse nestled amongst the trees on a 10acre patch of clay and rocks in southern Missouri- before my conversion- It was in my darkest hour, when I felt the world closing in, my path lost, the light fading, nowhere to hide, and no one to turn to- there appeared a spirit-man. He helped me. For this, I owe my life. To this, I testify.

Interestingly and unbeknownst to most, IndianRock.art ‘Holy Land of the ancient Lamanite Prophet’, with all of Her Earthly charms and wonders, is the Heaven-sent tangible manifestation: God’s Will upon the Earth as evidence to the bearers and witnesses thereof. She, IndianRock.art, is the result. She holds the key and is the giver. To this, I testify.

IndianRock.art – Holy Land of the ancient Lamanite Prophet

Everything is a reflection of everything else: If I want to change the world. I must change the self. To this, I testify.

Experience is a truer guide than the words of others. -Leonardo da Vinci

Don’t fear the path of the Chosen and the isolation that has followed. Be brave. Stand strong. Focus your eyes. Identify the ego, and send it back to the shadow, from whence it came. Now, look to God. Reform yourself around Faith. Trust in Him with all your heart. Find the little miracles that are unfolding all around you. Connect them. Create your path.

The stones on which I make my way, have been set by the Almighty. -Paul Marak

IndianRock.art – Faith, Work, and Meditation

From the Earth, these stones, and from this stone- a Star.

I have travelled through the Pinery and have gazed upon the Earth at dawn. I have mapped the Rocky majestic peaks and walked a valley of streams. I have wandered the rolling hills, with forest of pine. There, the deer and turkey abound, trout swim and eagle fly. I have travelled through the Pinery. Every time, …every time I cry. -Paul Marak

Left and right join to cradle the precious stone.

Faith, Work, and Meditation