Mind Vision
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In “Mind Vision,” one has in hand a book that with the sharing of a few words can easily become a true friend; one that can be reliably depended upon for wisdom, guidance, inspiration, encouragement, entertainment, and introspection by way of understanding throughout the living of life.
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Mind Vision - W.C. Blackmon
Author
From the Vaults of Wisdom:
Behind the Doors to Creation and Transition
Be Prophetic
To the Most High,
I bowed my head to pray for renewal,
And when I was done,
I felt the essence of his being as in my mind he spoke to me,
"My son, be prophetic!
Let your every word speak into existence tomorrow,
And give them power so that they may swallow,
Everything from anger, hatred, pride, to sorrow.
Be prophetic!
Let your own words move you even as you speak them.
And worry not about your readers or listeners
Because if you follow where your spirit leads
You’re guaranteed to reach them.
Be prophetic!
Let not you play society’s game.
Refuse to be relieved of your dignity for the price of fame.
Take time with the children
So they to will grow up to be wise and strong,
Teach them wisdom so they’ll understand the importance
Of doing right not wrong. Be prophetic!
What you desire, get up and go get it!
Your life goal, do not fear it.
But while listening to your heart’s desires, abide by your spirit!
And while you may not ever be perfect, your conscience, clear it.
Allow the Almighty’s essence to heal it.
Link your mind with your soul,
Let the essence of the whole take control.
And out of the mouths of babes observe, as wise words are spoken,
Chains are broken!
This is not merely a notion.
But a command from the Amen to move on, speed on.
Because the time now is for transcending,
So my son let it be done! Be prophetic!
With the physically blinded eyes I have given onto you,
Look into the distances.
See the world as it once was, as it will be,
As it is.
And where you find discontentment with the future,
Use your actions and words to act as a suture.
Sew up the inconsistencies.
Blow up the fallacies.
Inscribe truth into the youth.
Awaken the soul of the old.
And let not that which I have made be left out in the cold or be sold!
Son of my son of my son of my son."
He said, "This is my command, do not forget it.
Be you, be everything, but most of all,
Bobby B-wise, in your actions and words,
Be positively and productively prophetic!"
Door to Transition
The Day the Chickens Disappeared
I remember well when I was a child, running wild amongst the trees and bushes or darting between the stalks of my grandmother’s corn field. I’m a fast one,
I would say to myself, and so believing, I couldn’t wait until I was older. I would do it all: play basketball, wrestle, run track, and after training hard enough, I’d compete in the Olympics or maybe even play football in the NFL. Although just a young boy not in grade school yet, I had no doubt in my heart and mind that I would accomplish most, if not all of these dreams. However, before I even reached kindergarten, my aspirations received a blow from life’s winds that forever changed the direction of my objectives, goals, and life.
I lost the ability to see.
I can remember the day it happened better than any other eventful day in my life. I sat at my babysitter Ms. Stella’s kitchen table redrawing the cartoons out of the newspaper. I was about half way through my second drawing when I heard Ms. Stella’s chickens out in the backyard creating a fuss. Getting up and going to the back door, I looked out to see exactly what was bothering them so. Standing in the doorway I found that I had to shade my eyes and squint, but squint as I might, the only thing that filled my sight was the sun’s beaming rays as they shone through the old screen door along with a blurry outline of the chickens I was trying so hard to see. When I told this to Ms. Stella, it was obvious that she thought I was telling a bad joke.
Boy, you quit playing and come on back to this table and finish your picture drawing.
Looking back on things today, I really can’t find any falt in her thought process. I had always been an imaginative child, perfectly willing to entertain myself and whoever else was willing to be entertained along with me.
Ms. Stella’s taking my complaints lightly seemed to be justified, because right at that moment, I began to see again. I suppose I should have panicked or something about not being able to see the chickens just moments before, but I just did as Ms. Stella told me.
However, as I sat back down to draw, my vision blurred once more and left me unable to see the trace of lines on the drawing page that was mere inches from my face. With frustration now tingeing my five-year-old voice I cried out…
I can’t see my paper!
I don’t believe Ms. Stella’s eyes ever even lifted from the newspaper she was reading. I continued.
My brother told me that when I couldn’t see, I should turn around three times really fast.
It wasn’t true, for nothing like this had ever happened to me before. To this very day I don’t know where that little tale came from. Still thinking that I was just joking about it all she simply called out in a singsong voice, Okay,
and went on with her reading.
Ms. Stella didn’t appear to be too worried about what was happening, and the little kid I was didn’t feel any real need to be either. With a child’s natural ease of adapting to new situations, I simply stood, and stretching my arms out wide, spun around once, twice, three times. The amazing thing was that after my third wind mill turn, I was actually able to see again.
Maybe some doctor could explain how and why this may have had an effect on my eyesight, but for the little boy that I was, it was magic! Elated, I sat back down to resume my drawing, but moments later, my ability to see once again blurred, then faded to nothing. Getting up, I tried spinning around again, but this time it didn’t help. Nothing helped. My eyesight was gone.
Discouraged and frustrated, tears began to leak