Why should you write…

It was a valid question, he wrote after all, she was a successful doctor, she was trying to understand him, he sighs, she is his type of woman, she actually listens. He gives her his answer..

“when I wake in the morning, it’s a new day, it’s not a case of the same repeating itself, it’s new each and every time, they eyes may tire, but the scene is a new one, no often how often I see it, a bit like your patients I suppose”

She pauses, trying to get her head around it, she nods.

“I get it, we need to be both listeners and observers at the same time!”

he smiles

“when we write about it, it becomes part of history, written with clear eyes, not fogged, as they say”

20 Million followers

Seems quite a bunch, she is telling her friend, doing the stats, the marketing department are impressed, they will use the numbers to serve up the delights, sell whatever it is they want, to the twenty million followers. The marketing chief will approve of the budget, the figures pass the test, the accountant will sign it off, the board will give their approval, to the twenty million followers they have caught; she has a sassy brand they say. They all want to appear cool, with it, hip hop diddly doo dah, everyone wins, it’s the mantra.

Queen of cool sits on her bed, the mobile just pings and pings, her followers, she wants to send them a message, what will I compose this time, a cutie in the bedroom or a lingerie shot in the tub, whatever gets exposure, she smiles, she reaches across the bed, takes the mirror in hand, its covered in white crystals, her gold straw is custom made, she snorts, then shorts again, what will I give the followers, as her ego begins to swell.

Twenty million is a lot of juice, well it wouldn’t pay the interest for five seconds of the national debt, seriously says chuck, he is at the printing desk, the money machine they will use to pay for all that excess. Why don’t they print it he smiles, as he loads more of the special ink into the jets, green of course.

One billion followers, well the number was probably greater, Solomon was doing the sums, adding up the various groups, all claiming to be of Love, well, love in the sense of the divine, more to do with others and not your own relations dear. He is a fish in the ocean, a bee flying cross country, a butterfly with delicate wings, a bird hovering over the lake, a fish, what has happened they all say, it gets harder to find one in clear water by the day, what happened to all the followers.

She is in the bathroom, she drops her top, off shoulder, a pose, that will fill them for the day, she goes back to the bed, another crystal is on the way.

The board gives their approval, they are purchasing the twenty million followers. Solomon sighed, it’s all so transparent, like all those fish in the sea. There was nothing his father in Heaven didn’t know, no matter where you hid them

, amen.

Customs become laws….

How do some practices come into existence, simply, they are repeated and normalized, when done on a small scale they are called cults, when done on a large scale, they become laws, when annexed to a democracy, they become a constitution, when it comes to changing them, it causes great anxiety for all. How some laws come into existence, why have they lasted so long, these practices, when a simple word, like the intention of the law, inserted in every constitution, would allow some form of wisdom to grow.

Ageing world, children under stress, women denied basic rights, mankind robbed of their input, looking east or west, it was the ancient systems, that were causing so much trouble for all, when it ought to have been so simple.

Where ever the wise were hiding, it was time for them all to open up, and admit it, the problems of customs passed on, and the trouble it caused us all.

Solomon read the tabloid, the usual suspects, the image repository been given the mother load, wisdom totally ignored, as they tried to rise the ire of many, and depress those who saw through it all.

“the intention of the law” .. how simple is that clause, bad news for lawyers you suppose!, and those who enforce control, through those same narrow laws.

Going Back to My Roots

Where do you come from, what is your history, what do you know about your relations, are you from a tribe of God, what has your life been to date, what skills have you acquired, what do you plan to do with them, the talent you are given, the habits that were passed on to you, the ancient wisdom, certain gifts can be passed on, family to family, says so in the ancient scriptures, it’s the same with love, parents live in union, the habits they have they pass to their children, going back to your roots, where do you come from, and does it matter.

Solomon sighed, He was reading the ancient scriptures, and saw the genealogical family lines, the generations of families in the life of Jesus, all the way down the line, the sons of Noah, and so on, David, etc, it is all recorded, then the great dispersal, when the Jewish decendants were moved around the earth, where do we come from. If it’s laid out in ancient times, what does it mean for the current times, simply this, there exists those with the Gift of the Holy Spirit, alive in the world today, conduits of God’s Great Spirit. As we love, we pass on those gifts, amen.

Product of rape, Vernon Turner overcame seeing his mom shoot up heroin to join the NFL — Mustard Seed Budget

When 11-year-old Vernon Turner caught Mom in the bathroom about to shoot up heroin one day after coming home from school, she calmly told him sit down and watch. “I want you to see me do this because I don’t ever want you to do this,” she said, “because this is going to kill me.” […]

via Product of rape, Vernon Turner overcame seeing his mom shoot up heroin to join the NFL — Mustard Seed Budget

Communication | The Creator — Rainbow Wave of Light … a re blog, listening

A thought to ponder today… You have your beliefs, others have theirs. You can debate all day long, there still may be no resolution to conflicting ideals and that is perfectly okay. (Smiling) What feels true and just to the heart will always differ from person to person. It is important to remember to keep […]

via Communication | The Creator — Rainbow Wave of Light

The Heat is on….

Pressure, the time to choose, opinions and the principle, the esteem of friends, their words got him elected, now he is their pawn, they were using him all along, you will make a great speaker, people like the sound of your voice, why don’t you get yourself selected, we’ll help of course, the journey he recalls.

He is old now, the early words of pride, they hit him at the right time, at a low ebb, he needed a lift, the work he was doing created walls, he had to lift all the time, then they came and helped him, his so called friends. The first favor was a small ask, just reduce the size of the green area, we can put up more houses instead, he shrugged, didn’t seem much he voted for a new health center to ease the guilt, and they came again, then he wouldn’t budge, the day it all went wrong, the heat was on. No, no he said, that is a step too far, I am not going to promote the casino, the trouble is will cause, can’t you put it somewhere upstate, they nodded no, their lawyer steps forward, Sorry to have to do this John, he opens the envelope lays in on the table, the images are stark and clear, he coughs puts his glasses on, Atlantic City has never been the same since, the heat was put on.

He is eighty plus, years have passed, he has grandchildren, he can’t let them find out, it would ruin them, their careers, his credibility would be in the thrash, how is he going to keep it all intact, they have crucified others, now they want to buy his son, his

replacement.

Solomon sighed, the league of demons, they never give up, they worship the price tag and nothing else, if only they would listen, heavenly Spirit was pouring out, signs from the Great Father of Heaven and Earth, their demon counterparts in those places, had lost, the Spirit was free to roam to places they never expected, there was no need for the righteous to worry, the heat was on the demons and no one else.

Road to Perdition

It was wisdom in the beginning, then the customs were added like gems to a ring finger, the more they added the more envy it caused, soon they had to use the other fingers, more customs and more jealousy flowed, the wrist came next, then up the arms, till all that sparkled was the customs, which they

then made into laws, burdening mankind ever since.

Failure to listen, was a regular warning of Jesus, particularly to those in charge. He encountered those trying to discourage him, who even planned on killing him, for challenging the customs they turned into laws. It was as simple as love he said, it wasn’t complicated, it was a living thing, you did it or you didn’t.

Years later, on the road to perdition, the voyagers, sticks in hand, walk the thorny path, going to this shrine and that, just to remind themselves, how lucky they were. A little bit of home comfort, would it not have been an awful lot wiser, going to far away places, pilgrimage, call it a holiday and tell the truth, they built walls between the Kingdom of God and the masses, it was time to admit their mistakes. Solomon say the signs, others too, there were many boats, but in his heart, he saw few of them floating, amen.

Heart to Heart — SaintlySages wisdom on Monday, listen to the words, but don’t worry about the example others follow, it’s easy to mislead, besides idols are meant to fall…..

The heart is an ancient symbol of the deepest and most profound spiritual, emotional, and moral core of a person. St. Antony says: “God loves to come into humble and compassionate souls, into souls that are full of discretion, that are penitent and devout; but He abandons cold and callous hearts, hearts that seek their […]

via Heart to Heart — SaintlySages

Feeling Sorry….

Tired day long night had too much did a bit too much stuff, head hurts, sleep unruly, facing the day, another Monday, difficult getting out of bed, I really want to get out of my head, the world is mean and I am feeling sorry for myself, what have i done to deserve this, crunch, the world revolves around me, cause all there is, is me, my problem, thinking about nobody but myself, the root of my problems. Reaching for the medication, it’s not prescribed, two pills later on your feet, thinking about going to work, is there something i missed. The coffee is sharp, the brain unwinds, do the teeth, thought of having a shower, a splash of deodorant will cover the smell, get me through to the evening.

The stairwell is navigated, soon your on the street, rush along, where is the nearest transport, you don’t feel like walking, then you rush across the street, it’s busy, you’ve done in a thousand times, rushed, you get a thrill out of danger, the white shit you suck up your nose, mixed with rat poison to get you a little higher, when did you last read the contents of any medical product, probably never, you just accept the doctors advice. The kids are unruly in the car, she turns around, the latest scream from the three year old, ear shattering, too much, she wants to give him a …bang crash, he slides into the path of the car, slipped on a banana skin, she is unable to react, you go under the car, crunch, you hear your bones shatter…. the light, they are all around you, you can see can’t hear, feeling sorry…

Solomon lazed over a coffee, it had been a tiring day, the usual suspects were at it again, selling fear and anxiety, as if trying to unhinge him, selling him their habits, as if trying to be helpful. He goes through the day, it was exciting in parts, he enjoyed the banter, the way a smart politician enjoys a debate, he was listening, adding bits and pieces, not trying to over indulge. The bathroom is busy, two no hopers sniffing their heads off, well, they started behind everyone else, education poor and their parents alcoholics, feeling sorry.

On the street, he is there, it’s been a rough life, over reacting to the abuse passed on, the sentence a long one, we’ll make an example shouts the judge, the domineering father, church sponsored most of it if the religious would only admit it, his bags with him, all his possessions, slept with those just as unfortunate, while 25 trillion rests off short, and five times that elsewhere; the old man smiles, Solomon asks for a light, he needs is buzz too, we are all in this together, walks on. Feeling sorry, no shower, no bed, no place to put your things, right in front of you, how many just pass and say nothing at all, afraid of contagion. Then the woman taking over the duties of the priest cause the priest did an elvis and never showed up, how things change so quickly, feeling sorry, do something about it, for someone else, amen, your deeds determine who you are, amen. when three meet in my Name, the Father is there with you, words of Jesus, you are not alone. Solomon sighed, the nights he spent on Knock hill with the two old boys, the stuff you remember, and all the big talk shit that means nothing at all, just as the Father said.