Older Persons

Oh Golly, he looks at the desk, he has to get up, in his hand the calendar, how do i fit them in, it’s impossible, he wonders about it, the new year, looks at the calendar, can’t fit it in their either, when was the birthday, realizes he missed it cause he can’t even remember it, so long since they

celebrated one, oh what a chore, visiting the older ones at such a busy time of year. His Father sits by the bed, the air is sterile clean, smells hospital, instead, it’s one of those ultra clean hygiene marketed nursing homes for the very nearly fully aged, the last resting place before the big departure at they say, where you fletter your last days among the weakest, where you hear the late night screams of the tormented. His Father is close on eighty five, has been in the facility three years, two years more than expected. The financing of it, the mortgage on his sons house and the small pension he draws from his days in the public service.

It’s high maintenance, the running costs going up annually, demand for retiree spaces is huge, the elderly generation living longer, the rest of the generations only now realizing it, they will be elderly one day too, the cost of all these programs, re opening the old arguments for euthanasia.

Solomon was listening to the woes of an old friend. He didn’t want to install his Mother in an old folks home, her ability to move about severely curtailed by a degraded hip, that doctors can only treat with pain medicine. Older persons, they cost a lot to maintain, 2,000 a week, 1500 a week, depending.  Solomon listened to the figures, was shocked, it would be cheaper to stay in a good hotel. His own thoughts of retirement, whatever surprise the boss had for him, had worked for ever.

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Seriously

Once upon a time there was a woman, who ability to heal outshone all the stars of the New Hollywood, remarkably, she was the worlds first female evangelist. The testimonies, readily available in the archives of all the major U.S. dailies, recall healing on a Jesus scale. Medical evidence exists, the facts are real, and this was the revival movement at it’s infancy. The belief was, that the second coming of Jesus was imminent, and a revival in faith was instituted. The temple where she held her gatherings, in Los Angeles, evidenced so much healing, it made clear the words of Jesus, i will send the Holy Spirit, he will be your helper. Less than eighty years ago, this was all going on. Famously, via the words of Augustine, it was claimed centuries before that the era of miracles and healing was over. However, having encountered Great Spirit myself, I often wondered where the Holy Spirit had gone, it has to live in the heart, how we encourage that Spirit is my favorite hobby.

In a nutshell, what we fill our heads with becomes a traffic jam as sure as junk food becomes a health problem. We might get away with it in the beginning, but it always catches up with you. On a side note, a person who claimed to know me well, claimed, he was lying of course, well I was on my way to the “office”, when he pulls up, he has the actors pose, distraught, upset, reads my concern, I listen, he adds a few tears, has a story, he needs money, he has cheated me before. Would you lend him a couple of dollars, I did. He assumes the Holy Spirit is no cheese to worry about, how will the story end?

One day is all we need, to prepare the right prayer, may God Most High in mercy, pour out the healing spirit, and fill us with the right frame of mind today and everyday. For those who want to research the evangelist mentioned above, her name is Aimee Semple Mcpherson. Her son, is Rolf Mcpherson.

Is that enough!

Advice, all he heard was advice, advice, from his teachers, from his parents, just about everyone, wanted to give him advice. His parents, who argued daily, advising him, teachers who wanted to see the back of him, advising him, as if he hadn’t enough, he was getting more advice, advice on what to do, advice on how to escape, his upbringing. Had enough, he had enough, the doctor wants to put me on medication, medication, for what, for being honest. The day he tried to throw his father off the balcony, he meant it, he had enough.

Ten years later he waits for the therapist, his fourth in six months, for more advice. Waiting he picks up a magazine, the good parent guide book, he looks at it, dismiss’s it, ten years too late. His young years were lost, his parents being hippies, didn’t approve of Christmas. Imagine it, they smiling at him, their friends, discussing the great philosophers, the wisdom of old, the way Rousseau wanted children to have real life experience when young, like visiting prisons, hospitals, these things they could discuss, as for Christmas, it was a capitalist plot to relieve you of your money. That was the argument they used, we are different, we are not like the other lot. Saved them from giving up the booze or rearing us. Perhaps Rousseau might be impressed with the real education we endured. I just want to enjoy Christmas like all the other children, is that enough?.

Solomon sighed, why couldn’t all the religious tribes enjoy the season, and put the interests of their children’s future first. Allowing them to make friends was the start, is that enough.

If you take four of these a day, they should begin to affect you in about a week, if you feel squeamish that is normal, if you get sick i wouldn’t worry, but if it continues for a day or more, come see me. Same time next week smiles the doctor, I have had enough, amen.

Me

He loves himself so much he puts himself on answerphone and listens to himself, while imposing a reality on himself that is so far removed from reality to make it real, well, they say he is crazy, how about you. The sound of his own voice soothes, so he records himself all day, then late at night he replays the whole thing again. Amazingly, people donate half a weekly wage packet to hear him sing, and they do it regularly, who am I?

It was late after Christmas dinner, they had been playing charades for over an hour, and it was beginning to get to much, even for, Me. Blame the turkey me sighed, there was something strange about it. Strange, birds eat creepy crawlies, we eat birds, strange that we don’t like creepy crawlies. Solomon sighed, he was doing the thinking. Imagine it, all those angry demons, imagine all those factory reared birds, imagine the match of all matches, matching demon spirits with those about to be decapitated for our Christmas dinner, imagine that. Disposal was a problem, even in the time of Jesus, amen.

Hear my Voice….

She runs up the stairs, admires her slim figure in the wall length mirror at the top, the transformation, six months earlier she was anybody, she was now the chair person of a local charity, and local was New York. She left her make up bag in the shower room, an essential, given that she’d be meeting people for the next three hours. The world of Good intention she sighed, imagining herself meeting the Pope, the Dali lama was too far out for her, but she’d meet him too, if she had to, or as she termed it, while doing my civic duty dear. The horn honks, she takes a deep breath.

“don’t chauffeurs know their station anymore” she quips. It comes with the appointment, a driver and car for official functions, she calls him her chauffeur.

The world of good intention, or the intention of the idea. From a distance it sounded too easy, and there were many who were glad to have it easy, as nobody wanted to be challenged, only then would their be real solutions. You have to accept it she heard a confidant say, friends were now confidants, she had acquired power. You have to accept a certain level of homelessness, even at Christmas time. When she heard it said the first time it bothered her, well, she lived very comfortably, and poverty wasn’t easy on the eye, it didn’t sit well with the chesterfield suite either. She was adamant, she would change it all, she was different, she had an education, she wasn’t a home trophy either.

Six months later she is rushing down the stairs, when her high heel sticks in a wood split, (all the floors are natural wood, more organic and good for the soles of her feet), As she moves forward, her ankle twists, does she fall or.

I told you for the hundred time, I’m homeless, and i don’t do house share, did you not see my Vietnam war record. The counter assistant is beginning to panic, he mentioned Vietnam, a trigger word, so the specialists said, the behind the scenes advisers. She moves a curl from her face, she is too young to be doing what she is doing, but volunteers are in short supply, they also mean more money for services provided and admin.

At the world charity center, they are having their annual review. They are a group that meets twice yearly, the way

every industry does, the heads of organisations meet, discuss the thrills of the year, and the outlook going forward. In the previous five years, personal injury charities have been thriving, the demand for services doubling year in year out, a real boom area for the charity industry. If society is getting smarter, should it not be going the other way, hear my voice, amen.

Give Thanks – a re blog

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day; yesterday’s post is still on my mind. I’m grateful for the poem that was in me, grateful for words to tell you about this episode in my professional life, and grateful to be who I was and still am. A tough old cookie. A highly sensitive and intuitive wise woman. A […]

via Surely goodness and mercy…. — Telling the Truth

The Great Flood

What’s great about a flood, every ancient and not so ancient generation, have experienced one, Solomon was being vague. You speak in riddles some say, he sighs, sometimes it easier than saying it straight, it’s less offensive for starters, but talk of floods, he experienced a few himself, and learned. The talk across the world was of the sexual disease that seemed to attack almost anyone with a semblance of power. A new story, another victim, another story, another and than another, to a point when it is all they can think of, sexual crimes. The last thing the world needed to hear, another victim, another big name hits the dirt, the press is foaming at the mouth, in newsrooms they glance at each other, what about bob, what about john, what about the 300,000,000 under tens with access to the adult web, the real flood they all ignored. It was simple math, the Spirit is a living heart, real living heart, and the young hearts carry the hope, they have soul, meanwhile, while the adults rage and tell their stories, this flood is ignored, as if it wasn’t happening. It is easy get distracted, and human nature was forgetful. 50 million die in the last great war, all of them victims, a flood of evil forgotten.

The demon and his ilk were glad to have the focus on the current imbalance, while the real flood continued unabated, as if there was nothing the could do about it. Solomon sighs, he wrote is a long time before, the simplest of solutions. Then a friend shows him the dark web as it it called, a zone off the main internet alley, where security allows anything to be traded, and it’s all legal, someone was fooling an awful lot of people. Say the prayer he sighed, it usually worked to halt the evil threat.