That Hurts!

On time she wakes, presses the button on the side table, the news. My pills, where are they, her first thought, can’t do anything without them, so see thinks. She is hiding demons; not demons inside, but the demons she is actively fighting. Her Spirit is strong, has been known to confront, no one mess’s with her, one strong woman they all say. In the morning no one can see her, the struggle, the weakness, the admitted failure; she drops two morning pills, they will put her on a calm cloud; she is ready to think.

She squeezes her hand, balls it, is the pain gone. She was playing guitar the night before; after there was a long ache, worse than a tooth ache; she wasn’t a talker, she played guitar instead. Her leather trousers are on a heap on the floor; she looks around for another pair of shoes; least she didn’t take home someone. It’s like the mind thing, when you forget, some things she wish she could forget it all; yeah, she had those thoughts, but they never went far, she numbed the demon first. That hurts, it’s her knee, she needs to sleep with it straight, her memory is vague; one thing she knows for sure, Her Spirit must remain strong, and that hurts sometime.

She had it all, another life lost, another star gone. So the pages said, the talent lost. But was it really; didn’t the events give an added energy to her works, as a new generation became aware of her artistic output, and would be influenced accordingly.

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Tony Soprano and the Jury

That’s not how it works, it’s different, the men are arranged around a table, it’s judgement day and the news is not as expected, a twit found the funding and made a movie about the commencement of the Vietnam war, it’s released the same day as the  men with canes and worn walks have to attend a special hearing of the heavenly commission, the life they lived is being weighed up. On account of the authority they yielded, they are seen as high value persons.

Everyone is treated the same, whether your a made man or not!,  Tony adds with a half smile, and points at each one of them; you all had a hand in this man made mess, so what do you have to say for yourselves. An old man opens his mouth when his dentures fall out, his jaw continues shaking as he tries to put the dentures back in. The old geezer sitting next to him says “why don’t you try super glue, that way they’ll never fall out!”

This is serious says big Tony, there is only so much; a room load outside awaits the decision, the minions of these once powerful men.

So what have you to say about yourselves?

Old Alfred turns to George, “I told you we should never have got rid of Kennedy!”

What’s Kennedy got to do with this asks Tony, who is the Heavenly district attorney, he senses an even bigger scalp.

“Kennedy, a peace loving Irish dumb ass, what does he know about business except for his Father who bought it for him!”

Child

Spirit filled, absorbing like sponges, a raised voice or a scream, imitating, watching, eating, excited, noisy, fairly normal bring a child; add in the extras, the gadgets, the thumbed games, the overtly sexualized world, the bias of parents, they trust them, and soon the child becomes, dispirited, like little prisoners trying to escape their world.

 

Rose tinted glass’s were fine to wear in the dark; in the clear light of day, the rosey hue might tint it, help the eyesight if that is the case, but when a world was rearing children in the depths of depression, it asked questions. Solomon encountered the Great Spirit, in real time, not imaginary, 100% real time proof of the existence so many wondered about. Put it this way, he wasn’t going to make a fool of himself by pretending.

The Connector

They are not soldiers you train and put into action archbishop. The young curate was risking his career, trying to explain the difficulty, the shortage of new entrants, and why it had happened. Old men don’t want to listen, unless it’s the doctor they are talking with.

In the fifties, there were processions of young men, that ran the length of a football field, men who had offered to serve the higher calling, “called” by the Spirit, the Spirit the religious orders cared for and minded as if life itself depended on it. It was years ago, the parade was now a trickle, a drip drip of water compared to the full flow; same way the Spirit had been depleted due to a whole set of factors too long to mention. The basic rule according to Solomon; you nurture the Spirit and the results will deliver. Sadly, that Spirit was squeezed out of existence almost; too many interfering influences, and too little forgiveness, just as happened to so many things, as the new takes over from the old.  Would they ever learn sighed Solomon?.

One day, was that too much to expect, one day they would get it right. The Spirit is the Holy Messenger, the one who reminds of the life to come, brings blessings, it was spoken of many times in the ancient scripture, it was told in the ancient tales, how many of us had invited angels into our homes, and the blessings they would bring with them. Today, fear rules he sighed, and it’s not unreasonable either, the threat of violence on those who suffered it, is devastating. Solomon wrote the story so often, a thousand times, get the Spirit part right, the rest is made easy. Spirit connects us, amen.

One Day

She lies on the bed, the tired body and the heavy head, sore from a bruising. You will meet worse than me he said, years before, when he spoke to a so called friend of the thug who helped end her life. Really sighed Solomon, could anyone be worse than what he was looking at, someone who preyed on the vulnerable, dosed them with drugs, to keep them under his control. Not likely sighed Solomon to himself.

After many promises and interventions, and the missing friends: they too had a life to get on with, she finally is overcome, a victim; the blame put on the descent into alcoholism. She knocked on many doors, sought help from many corners, all she attracted were the wolves who preyed on them, those without back up or good friends. One day he sighed.

Solomon was recalling a friend, who had passed on this day years before, a true tragedy.

Old Man Christmas

The days close in on the main event, and the visitors are on their way, friends and relatives we haven’t seen for a while, including the “old man”, will be showing up. Last preparations, runs to the store, the gathering of wood, it is all getting prepared. I have met many, and many had met him, but it was the “old man”, who told the best stories. Every night over the Christmas period, he used to read us stories, from his head, the story of the turkey with the three heads, the most entertaining one of all. He had problems with his eyesight, didn’t know where to look!

What was the reason I remember the “old man”. why did others slip from memory, it was one of those questions that is not easy to answer, I suppose when you are small, it’s the great tales you recall as you get older, and the “old man”, well, he loved telling them. I realize now, many years older, and hopefully wiser, he was just passing the tradition on, a bit like Christmas itself, a reminder of other things, amen.

“and there was a slice of bacon for dinner and gravy if we were lucky!”

“did they do dessert?” asked siobhan, her face down

We would always fall asleep before the end. Isn’t that the great thing about a good story, it just lives on, with the help of the “old man”, of course.

Wednesday Christmas Song — Erika Kind re blogged

There are many many beautiful versions out there which I love. But this one is still my favorite and one of my favorite Christmas songs too. It also leads me back to the 80’s. So, there are many reasons I love this song. I know I am posting it every year… but I don’t think […]

via Wednesday Christmas Song — Erika Kind