Addiction

Can’t fill the gap inside, it’s impossible, can’t, I am going to throw up, she is on her feet and moving, not too bad he smiles, geeing up her Spirits. She is seriously wobbly, will collapse at the first obstacle, he holds her arm, he is leading her to the toilet. Spittle at the edge of the mouth, her hair once lush, has thinned out, he waits outside the door, making gestures to himself, this too will pass. Alcohol addiction, what a curse. He listens while she washes up, readies the energy, she will require his time for a few days, in order to get over the worst of it. The nerves will settle, it’s just the encouragement she needs at the start.

The bathroom door opens, there is a smile on her face, the same smile you would imagine on a small baby, after taking it’s first steps, i did it I did it, you sure did he sighed, how easy was that, a little effort, a smile on a face. She makes it back to the bedroom, her glass of water is half full, she will want a refill. A loud sigh, she is between the covers, food he asks, she shakes her head, I will get you a glass of water instead. He leaves the room, ventures to the kitchen, takes a deep breath, slogans come to mind, he makes an effort to ignore them, refills the glass, heads back up the stairs. She is sleeping, day one over he sighs, while leaving the glass on the bedside locker.

With a little help from you friends sighed Solomon, and it’s easy to overcome, an addiction.

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Park The Ego, you might learn something.

She enters the room, he is lying in bed, its’ time to change the nappy again. Move she says, her voice is gentle, she has come half way across the world to make a living. He made his wealth exploiting her people, now he is dependent on her, move a little left. She looks at the mess, her nostrils constrict, she has done it before, but it still smells like shit. She dumps the used nappy in the thrash, move she says, how did I get into this mess, she is giving me orders; I used to own the damn country. She leaves him, he has all the time to think, there is not much he can do, he has to suck it up. The stuff you wished you done; and I exploited her people, moved the factory to the low paying people, the profit was great, now, the epiphany is too late, but he has eternity to remind himself. Choices, worse that that, he is getting reminders of the life to come. How did i miss it, he used to think he was wise, a clever man, instead, he has a devoted mother cleaning him each day; He should think himself lucky, at least she has no intention of exploiting him, amen.

Solomon encountered the Great Spirit, and much more, there is loads to look forward to, amen.

He has an additional memory, damn it, I polluted the environment too!

Ministry of Sounds

 

Can’t sound it, sound, action to her, affects inner harmony, will I get up, she glances at her I-phone. To others it seems extravagant, to her a diagnostic tool, she’s a locum. Irritating, will I.  Her shift starts in, she dips her eyes on the phone, she is precise, a trainee surgeon, doing the steps. Her fingers are long and graceful. Where they have been; last evening, inside the chest of an elderly man, noise disappears, music again, continues reading. She lives in a three room, ignoring the bathroom; everyone has one of those, as vital as a healthy rectum.

 

Lilliaoukalani

What a mouthful, she could sing all right, a timely reminder, she was the last Queen of Hawaii, before the islands coalesced with the U.S. She had a great bond with the Big Spirit, the divine spirit, same one Solomon encountered. as the volcano erupts, it’s wise to remind ourselves, we need to Love mother earth, an awful lot more than we do. Solomon sighed, the Spirit in the sky, and God Most High, the one true God, all connected, to Lilliaoukalani, just imagine it. The picture with this blog, clouds, appeared one day, in response to a prayer. So Solomon wondered, was the volcano a reminder of days gone by, and Lilliaoukalani, interesting.

Need Love?

The parents are in shock, it’s not how they planned it, they both healthy, however their child, is born with a few problems, it’s going to require them give extra care, do a bit more, a little more love. Well, sighed Solomon, if they wanted a reason to love that bit extra, they found it. God acts in mysterious ways; it makes miracles all the more important, the power, there for all to see, amen.

She wanted the perfect marriage; a man with a good job, a lifestyle she could get her teeth into, and not the struggles of her parents, they were always short of cash, and fear. Hours spent shopping rather than worrying, she recalls her mothers hand me down clothes, the shame she felt in school, how awkward is that.

The Spirit of God is inside all of you, you just have to create the space, or more importantly, you don’t need to clog it with rubbish, the heart is your safe haven, mind he says. In the emotionally charged environment, the teachers work hard; they are on a vocation, success to them, the success of the students; the other stuff is the other stuff.

There were many who carried the bruises of a difficult rearing; alcohol abuse, bad parenting, a tough neighborhood, lack of opportunity, parents away working too much, while tender hearts waited for them, only to be over dosed, and left alone for awhile more. The perfect image on the TV, was not their world, wasn’t close. Poverty does not sell,  amen.

Yet, out of the outcomes of life’s struggles, comes the stuff you have inside you, often buried so deep, it never reaches the surface. Wisdom sighed Solomon, who had to deal with struggles of his own too, amen.

The Escape Route

She reached for the bourbon, drops two clicks into the glass, a few pills in her palm, she is used to them, taking them a long time, her head goes back, the tablets then the jack, she swallows hard, a good night sleep, she hasn’t had one of those in years. The TV is playing, the current offering does not suffice, she plays with the buttons like she was throwing dice. An old movie, she was young when they first saw it together, her eyes well up, the tears will flow, a combination of self pity, and love long lost. Years ago she had the chance, she chose the career over the chance, that love finally found her. Successful in all respects, the trappings are not a problem, the garden is perfect, does she give out about it, usually after a late night of booze, otherwise she is quite calm, till the night comes. She can build, she can encourage, she can motivate, but there is no escaping the hole in her heart.

Solomon sighed, Love has to be a flow, same way a plant can’t live in damp marshy soils, apart from a very few. In the world that attempted to own everything, including our genes, there was no ownership for love, only a responsibility for it’s safe delivery to the next. Many folks had troubles, everyone, some went deep, some went into despair, it was how you dealt with it, decided it all, the escape route. Building walls around your troubles, was only a delay.

 

Artists Artists Artists.. United?

He has something to say, you should listen to him, she has a new voice, listen, artists, the small child has words he wants to say, he’s a child no one listens, why. Artists, the great global consciousness, well that was the way it was supposed to be, the collective thoughts contained in their works, be it sculpting, writing poetry, long stories, canvas, all filled with need, their heads and the hearts, pouring into the world their thoughts; man, I wanted to hear those words, they mean something, artists, and what happens, or more important, what is it that this all means. Consciousness, awareness, the need to show, the necessity to open hearts to new pathways.

What in affect happens; down through the centuries, anyone who harboured thoughts that conflicted with the dogma of the ruling class of the day, usually thwarted, unless they had the patronage of the same people, and when some made a break through, difficulty is what they found, resentment caused, labels applied, unwell, not one of us and so on, unless the general populace loved them and defended them.

Solomon was reflecting, there were so many issues, so many you’d be lost in the haze. He read about the difficulties the traditional sources of comfort were having; loss of personnel, message not being absorbed, loss of connection, and so on. In relation to divine enthusiasm, if you based your “art” or “vocation in life”, on the connection overhead (Solomon encountered Holy Spirit, the real one, was saved a few times), a power that hit the peaks at the time of Jesus, you would assume you’d hang onto the connection, not by cheating, but by incorporating the principles in your life. If talent dries up, maybe it’s time for a career change, rather than go fishing for others talents, those less organised as they say; otherwise their divine connection blurs then dies.

Solomon was comparing the times of Jesus Christ, the threats that he had to overcome, the weakness of the believers in the face of miracles, and the regular threat, same today as then, of the already organised machine that controls so many lives. At a time when there has been so many signs, and they are on the way, everyday in fact, the danger of speaking up, saying it as it needs to be said, simply, be brave.

Artists, avenues for thoughts to disperse; there has never been a more needy time for them. Your job won’t matter if the toxic dump leaks into your water supply; and the environment for your children won’t change into positive territory, until you make the effort to improve things; leaving it to your leadership, is the same as waiting for Godot.