I approach the easel and stare at the canvas. As I look inward for inspiration, I am stunned and overwhelmed by the number of impressions that arise seemingly at once. Where do I begin? How could I ever begin a process that I know will never have an end? 

A surplus of emotional waters. A surplus of spiritual wattage. A surplus of wooden Earth set ablaze by my passions. A hurricane, and I am the still centre. But where, where can I begin? There is so much in my heart, but my throat chokes. It chokes, for what to give expression to first? 

Abundance is a blessing, yes, but it comes with demand. Knowledge — what is knowledge without action? Knowledge, knowing, and perspective are counterfeit without corresponding action. I care not what talk you talk, for if it is not being walked, it is sterile. Potentiate that mind of yours with your body, with your hands. You’ve studied the choreography, but have you twirled and swayed? Have you allowed your hips to give it life? Have you allowed the energy condensed into Ajna to trickle down that spinal channel and instruct the other selves you are home to? Or have you been taken by daydreaming, the maladaptive sort? Do you live your successes in the mental sphere only? Have you allowed planet 7 to remain castrated without approaching the material realm who holds that scythe? Have you not the Jovian bravery to rescue the rest from the belly and allow them to see the light of day? You have the strength — will you or will you not use it?