Write or Listen

The anxious writer is frustrated, like a junkie seeking the hit, the dealer is late, and he is getting upset as hell. He moans in front on the machine, darn, where is my inspiration, the stuff sends him into another dimension; allows a fertile imagination to go places, some light, mostly dark, where is the dealer, his nerves are at him, in frustration he thumps the table, I need my fix, shit, I will get a new supplier, frustration, he teeth chatter, he is feeling the withdrawal, he has to produce some words, he is a writer after all. Where do you go, he refuses to put words on the page, he is waiting, words, me, me, me.

To listen these days sighed Solomon, is so rare. So many want the attention, can they ever listen, the big man with the power, a junkie for attention, demands, takes what he wants, and worse than that, expects to get away with it. Where is this humility these believers are supposed to have, it is written in the books of old, a little respect. The husband who bosses the wife, sits, where is my meal, darn good cook though.

Write or listen, Solomon smiled, he heard a voice call out the Holy Name, he was heading home, to his temp abode, he laughed inside, the words of old were on many lips, and people were listening. To imagine, a gathering of folks, all sorts, listening to the prophets, wondering what Jesus was going to do next, while all Jesus did through his life, was encourage the kingdom of God, on earth. Listening is good too.

The junkie writer gets the hit, he launches into words, that will impress them he thinks. Jesus, just told the truth, amen.

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True Love

The power of the prophets, the foundations of every great relationship, True Love. Solomon sighed, the Heavenly Father never lets down his own, he might rebuke them, teach them, spoil them occasionally, but he always acts out of love.

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Mr Gandhi, Happy Birthday

Yes, today is his birthday, that humble man, who forsook the normal world as we see it, and gave his time to finding a solution to the Indian Issue, how peace works best, we recall his ways, and in times of conflict many recall his methods, the heart needs to change for real change to begin, and he reached out to others, his Faith was of God, there was no other, today Mr Gandhi, across the world in many places, many are saying prayers of thanks, for that Spirit of peace and non violence you poured into the world.

Solomon sighed, we need more of that Spirit, and Mr Gandhi’s example. Where are the great men of this generation, are they spending many millions on private this and that, what will their legacy be wondered Solomon. No matter how hard others tried to sway his opinions and twist his faith, Solomon could not ignore the power of Spirit, and the night it came to visit, and it came, it was the greatest of all truths, the stories of old, were made real. You mean we are all divine, well, this is what Jesus told his early followers, there is Spirit, there is God, you have to create the space inside, which is not that easy in so busy a world, just requires time and space, should you decide, amen.

Greta And Her Generation

 

 

Fighting Shadows

 

It’s not drama, it’s actually real, it’s not the head, it’s the ability to disguise, the hidden evil menace, the trail of poison ivy, it’s the growth of hatred, it’s the propaganda that fills the mind, the greed that we can’t control, it’s the temptation of the demon, turning people against each other, enjoying the conflict and hurt, the psychopathic remedies of the evil mind, the stuff that makes us apathetic, the blind spot we acquire, it’s why corruption just never slows, we are told to exploit it all, the mantra of the so called successful, and How Greta Thunberg said it clearly, we heard it all before, Solomon sighed…

MOST honest soul I met in last ten years, a two year old boy, 

Solomon sighed, the emperors clothes syndrome, they all nod and agree, then a child, unaware of fear, said what everyone was thinking, he then recalled the Ancient scripture, the wisdom of men and the wisdom of God, and how mere children, would put all the intellectuals to shame; well, we are seeing it with our own eyes, amen.

 

 

First Impressions

The second you pause, stop, the eyes open wide, the memory is born, you didn’t race past on the way to your next appointment, you stalled, you might not plan it, you had to stop, a second look, how the first impression is real every time. Solomon recalled the army of good souls, out there today, trying to impose their truth rather watching who the audience was, you don’t need to lecture, you just need to live it if you believe it, deeds.

A boy pulls a box on wheels, a wooden box with round bits stolen from a supermarket trolley, the boy wasn’t going anywhere, he was going around in circles, and his two pals were chasing after him. Solomon watched from the comfort of the upmarket saloon, a car another drove. The drop was a quick stop, a five minute call, the neighborhood wasn’t friendly, no jewelers or anything like that, maybe a rehab center, as close as it gets to humanity. How important was that first impression, how important is every act of kindness, they add up.

In the modern world we tend to leave caring to charity workers, by passing the inner soul, as if we are management level, and leave the hands on stuff to others. The inner soul is God’s refuge inside, and it needs to be exercised, it does not live on good intentions, you have to get involved. As time passes, the need for a more emotional world is becoming so obvious; without souls that care, what is left, not a whole lot.

Solomon recalled that little boy and his pals, who appeared around the corner, pulling their imaginary car, with a piece of string that someone discarded. First impression, how they fared after that, the three young friends, who knows, but they made an impression on Solomon and his heart process, amen.

Young Turk

Hair greased, slicked back, he is not attitude, he does not recognize authority, not of the human kind, his goal is heavenly, has seen his home village destroyed, the pain and trauma, the cheap words of world leaders, after every atrocity,  they have been saying the same thing for years, pass the book, let the next set of leaders take the chance, see how long will they last, meanwhile plan for retirement, and a comfy living, while observing the harm, from all their inaction. Did Jesus say the same, words are great, prayers too, but without love in actions to support, what were you anyway, an empty vessel, a lot of noise and nothing else, as for those long winded applauded speeches, just yellow paper now, faded as the dreams were, the hopes raised that never flew. The Young Turk does not intend to suffer that fate. He is patient, he intends no harm, and will do his thing, he does not want to loose the heavenly connections, that is what has been happening, these last fifty years. The Young Turk has ideas of his own, prays it straight, and when he does, the help always arrives, no fool him.

So many refugees on the move, so many trying to find a home, clean water, it used to be all over the place, why did we have to pour poison into the water; well, the child in rags playing in the rubble, forever hopeful. Solomon sighed, may the schemes of extremism and those who plan such things, implode of the extremists, amen. can’t we just accept we are different at times, amen.

Solomon sighed, he told the health professional a few details of Life in the Spirit, the struggle between the material and eternal life. Well, it’s not easy being a believer sometimes; it puts an onus on you.

Outside World

 

He closes the door, the walk isn’t too far, he wants a cigarette, a fix in the morning a bite in the afternoon, a few cans in the middle, and by four he will be out of it again, outside the world. She will pass by him and shrug, he is on a bench outside the church, lifting her eyes to heaven, she remarks

, did you see the like of that, alcohol drenched sloshed in front of your church, no respect she mutters beneath her breath. He eyes her as she passes; would she ever throw a few coins, has she any heart at all. She can hear his thoughts, his eyes stab her like daggers, in the back. All he does is drink it, she ignores him and walks on.

Mrs O’Neill says the cashier, she is inside the women’s fashion shop, everywhere, it’s spotless and shiny, she is there to try the new dress, there is a wedding coming up. It’s awful what you see on the street these days remarks Mrs O’Neill, referring to the drunk slumped over the bench down by the church. The attendant ignores the remark. A half hour later, Larry is slouched completely, lying motionless on the pavement now. In sleep land, he does not notice Mrs O’Neill as she passes; the smell of alcohol and that other smell, have they no respect she says.

Solomon heard two women in conversation, the sight of alcohol soaked bodies hanging around the sanctuary is too much for them, they have to speak up. What the children are exposed to one of them says. Solomon smiled, God works in wondrous ways, giving us tips, and angels come in all sorts of guises, many times just warning us all, of the outside worlds.