Understanding Compassion

You can’t look at me that way, you can’t come into the house and treat me like a slave, where did you learn such things. Another scene, they enter the club, the girls are toe rags, flash the cash, do what you like, you can get to humiliate them, they are so high, what does it matter, another man’s daughter. The thought never hits you, just legs and a bush, and time to get excited, someones daughter, what planet are you on.

He twists in the bed, the thoughts run around his head, getting older, he can sense the future, what if, the big question on the minds of many, is their really a Messiah and a God, he is soaked in sweat, what the blazes are you thinking Roy, this is insane he says, talking himself through his personal nightmare. Who can say no to God, well, many have said no to good, he twists in the bed. They sleep in separate beds, have been a long time. I loved her then, then, well, I do love her now, he is not sure, what was he hiding from all his life. She loved him anyway, and if he wasn’t busy in the passion department he was always a great father. She never told him, she realized his quirky ways, fell in love with them, the sexual world was never her thrill, she was always a mother in the making, and compassion is her way, way she treats the world.

Solomon wondered how many folks were having the what if moment, the signs were all pointing up, and the old guard were being swept aside, a new understanding was gaining a hold, and the plans of the extremists were about to implode. A man in power wore all the faults of the human race, went through the entire fault spectrum, warts and all, and the opposition hadn’t laid a punch on him, seemed as if he was holding up the proverbial mirror. Solomon smiled, who could have wrote the script, a pope from the edge of the world, Islamic leaders driving change, and a very open society in the Irish republic, a far cry from the closed days of doom and gloom that used to be preached, and the women who left many shores in order to find freedom.

Understanding Compassion was a topic on the minds of many. The light of divine intervention was making it clear; we are tenants in someone else’s vineyard.

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Those Old Wars

A lot of bloodshed, a lot of heart break, does anyone remember their names, hardly, Amo nods in the bed, still a teacher, he listens, it’s all that He can do these days, listen. You are not feeling well he says, his visitor is an old friend, they were in college together, that is sixty years or more, over a hundred and twenty years between them, come to think of it, a lot of living time on the planet, a couple of major wars, the great one in 1939, do they all remember that, ration cards, doing without petrol, driving the car twice a week, if you were lucky enough to have one.

I’m getting old Amo, says the friend, not unlike yourself, they share a smile. They went on the odd holiday together, when travel was a huge experience, not the twenty four seven event it is now, when tickets to anywhere can be bought within hours of flying, and half the price when you do. Amo sighs, everything moves on, in the end we leave behind what, memories, that are hopefully, a legacy of a sort. The old friend, nods. Will anyone remember us, the thought is on his visitors mind, Amo has no such fears.

Immune to the news, Solomon sighed, when we hear too much of it we switch off. There is another appeal, another famine zone, another disaster, another social meltdown, the car moves along, the radio is changed, music, an awful lot happier, positive. Immune are we, to news and all that we don’t want to hear. Solomon pursed his lips, an observer, he watched it all. It must have been the same at the time of the ancient prophets, the news no one listened to, the descent into pleasure, this is going to last forever. Time tells us, it never lasts, maybe that’s what we need to recall, it is all passed on, your habits, good bad or indifferent.

Wisdom

Rules, we were made to break them, improve on them if you like, so the young assistant listens to the old man, rules, it was her middle name, the fear of getting it wrong, and the paralysis it creates. She was trying to appease the old man, they get diddery don’t they. She mixes the drink with the clotting agent, his swallow is difficult, the muscles don’t have the same dexterity, she assumes he doesn’t want to choke. Where are you from he asks, then he said, I like your accent.

I come far from here she says, her accent east European. She spoons in the thickening agent, and passes him the cup of tea.  He sips with difficulty. Her hand takes his shoulder, leans him forward, makes it easier. He swallows easier. I like your accent madame he says with a smile, so you have traveled too she imagines. You didn’t tell me where you are from, he says, he is smiling at her. why would anyone be interested in where she came from. She remembers her mother, her father, those left behind, inside she sighs, thinking of them, and the struggle they made in order to give her the freedom to travel. Wisdom he smiles, as if he could read her mind. Don’t be afraid to ask he says, with a smile.

Children’s Day

Mother’s day, women’s day, father’s day, international this day, international that,. this the other, postcards, preparations, the party afterwards, the novelties, the protests, the speakers, the conference, the global speeches, what a load of what, you ask?

The old musketeers, this is old France, the sun king, the belief in the wonders of God, the upstairs and downstairs attitude, those that exceeded their power, loosing their heads, in every way imaginable, you can’t abuse power and get away with it, have all the tyranny you want, but you are not going to get away with it, there are those who will ensure that, there are those who know what is divine.

Solomon sighed, he saw the attitude on the faces, the lives that jumped forward to another time, saw the breakdown in society, the denial of children, of a healthy living world, then passing on the news to their counterparts of old, the car exchanged for a horse, the law replaced by a sword. This is worth fighting for they say. The roots of our problem sown in the past.

Children’s day, not a roll out of all the great advantages that we fill our selves with, feel good is great, they felt the same way on the Titanic, we are all going on a holiday. All the stress that is created, the effort to focus on the lower regions, its’ very pleasurable they say, but there is time, let us grow up first.

What would they think, those who went before us, not the closed minded, but those who were enlightened, and there are many Spirits, watching our progress, even today, wondering what we are going to do next. Are we going to ruin it for everyone, or do something good. Thoughts for a Monday.

The Temple Door

He watches them enter, he has been waiting a while, there has to be one who understands, the words have to have meaning, not simple acknowledgement, there is plenty of that, who doesn’t need water to drink, an acknowledged fact, yet so much of it is poisoned, when it gets rare, suddenly things hurry up. Solomon reflected, why were the prophets necessary, why were they sent around. Reminders, there is a destiny, that even the demon acknowledges, were we supposed to be working towards that, making it possible. He is hungry, it’s a place where the worshippers gather, they are told to imitate Jesus and the prophets, he seeks a sign. Has been living on a bench, not a tramp, far from it,. he comes with divine authority, there is one among them with the faith Necessary, he continues to wait at the temple door.

The wonders of the stories of old, the constant rebuke of those in charge, repeated so often, no wonder he said it was great news for the oppressed and the poor, those moved out of societies view, it’s ugly having to admit the downside. Get them out of my sight, who needs reminding of that.

Solomon smiled, his Mother held the door open all her life, didn’t suffer the views of those who waited on society, to deliver. In her heart, in her family, active in your faith, and you will be delivered. How many times had the helper arrived, every time, and what was the response of the organised religion, the same as political parties trying to recruit a candidate?

 

People of the Book

Rejoice, Amo was laughing, stuck to the bed in body, his Spirit was flying, aged, ninety or thereabouts, useless in the eyes of the material minded, gold in the eyes of God. He was a mature wine, and holding court to anyone who would listen. Solomon had come to visit, on his Spirit journey. The Sky opens, the sun bursts, the light from Heaven, the Power that speaks life Eternal, it’s not a fairy tale after all. You are not alone. Amo smiled, as another chocolate entered his mouth, he loves sweet stuff.

The meeting of Spirit, the opportunity to pass on wisdom. Solomon knew without doubt, that Amo was heading up, and he wanted to get a petition in, in advance of Amo’s return. Use the connection, Amo was bringing home a soul full of good deeds, and the Eternal Father was going to be smiling. Solomon being a close relative of Amo was not one to lose such a golden opportunity.

Earlier that week, the demon Angels had tried to push Solomon off course, as regular as race horses not trying to win, only trying to confuse him, hoping to sow doubts, the stuff they had been doing all their life, feeding fear into the Universe, Solomon was waiting for them, expecting them to do exactly that. Play dumb, be stupid, but act wisely. They will never suspect a thing. By the time they take the bait, it’s game over, they will come under the radar of heaven.

Solomon, in that mindset, was giving old Amo a pet talk. Ask for a little more he said, Amo raised his eyes, at ninety years of age, do you think I’m a work horse, what do you mean. How about an end to extremism, and assistance to those building the bridges of understanding between the people of the book. Amo nodded, I will do that sighed Amo, who loved everything that had Heavenly advice in it.

It’s great to have friends in High Places, amen.

The Dream

An institution, large, with it’s own civil service, where Men of Power roam the corridors, giving orders, their way the only way, a form of extremism, there to protect the Church of God, into this, pour a little known South American Spirit, A man of God, chosen from the end of the world, the clean job he is given, impossible in the eyes of so many, the dream. Extremism is not on the to do list, getting rid of it is his main chore. I am surrounded by demons he says, makes it clear from the beginning, Help Me, his words are a call for help. Fear, so damaging, curtails so much thinking, Francis has his problems, made choices at times, some that are hard to support, but admits he is human, is willing and seeking advice.

Solomon had the dream, he woke in the night, there was a darkness that was trying to corrode him, fill him with fear, demonic. He gets up and writes a few words, asks in the Holy Name, the fear disappears. How difficult it is, when those so young suffer such fear that it makes them shrink. No set of words can cure this, only a regaining of trust. actions.

There are many demons hiding in Holy Places, gaining refuge unknown to those around them. Solomon was sending up the prayer; reveal what is hidden, and expose the extremists everywhere, there is a great healing required, amen.

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