Doing in the Head…

snake oil salesman, comes to town, opens the back of his truck, this will cure you he howls, while those seeking hope gather round. $2  a bottle, the folks stick out the hand. They are doing their heads in. Jesus sighs, did they ever do anything simple. They put so much effort into getting ready for the ritual, they lost out on what it all means. He is listening to it, so are those who turned away, its simple, you don’t need all that.

Meat, days, washing, foods, he throws his head into the air, why are they making what is so simple complicated; it’s the same as giving a lawyer access to your thoughts, sooner or later they will find some fault and then the arguing and division will come.

He warned the pharisee’s, why do you burden the people, it’s simple. So in order to help, he sits down and tells them the story of the good Samaritan, who were not popular to others in the day. They listen; this dude can call down thunderstorms and miracles, don’t upset him, they listen; How you love is how you treat total strangers, that is who you really are, not just how you treat your friends.

Food on Friday, meat, washing hands, ritual cleaning, circumcision, none of it matters, no matter who who are, if you don’t fully love. The barriers to entry, that religions had created, needed to be revised, it was that simple, unless it was a cult they were aiming to achieve, amen.

Advertisements

The Woman

She is a refugee, she hasn’t much, she does what she has to do, she has to feed herself. Her heart is big, she has relatives back home, she saves what she can, knowing what circumstances they live in. The money isn’t big, fifty dollars here, twenty dollars there, 100 when the times are good, she does what she has to do, the woman.

It’s a busy Friday night, the men are hungrier than ever, they like the fact she has a color, it’s more of a thrill for them. They empty they pay they go home, she puts her money in her sock, it’s safer there, by the time it gets to her village, it will be enough to feed them all, that woman, what is she doing, the days and nights have been hard.

They judge her those that pass, do you do the risky stuff some ask, how much. A veritable toe rag in the eyes of many, to be used and passed over, forgotten like she has no use, that woman. Many judged too simply, many rush to conclusions, Solomon thought of Jesus, what would he say or do, he’d certainly think less of those that judge her, the way so many do.

Remember Rehab, she found favor with God, for helping defeat the enemy. No one came to judge her afterwards, after knowing her profession before; tut tut, Solomon sighed, a mother feeds her children, while 25 trillion rests off shore, who do you think God will support, that woman of course, amen.

Old Man Reading…

Sits in the same chair, been doing it for years, he’s reading that old book. They pass him, the grandchildren, they don’t want to engage with him, he’ll ask questions, he is boring, can’t run or walk, just an old man reading a very old book. They go out on the street, leaving the old man to the book.

A year later they are back in the house, the old man is still reading the book, picking through the threads, adding bits to the wisdom he has been pooling. They shrug, I told you, all he does is read that book, no one will believe it, he just reads it over. Across the street a painter works a mural.

Years later they are back at the house, he must be nearly a hundred, there, he is still reading that book, his eyes, how can he keep it up, they shrug, go out side, they catch up with old school friends, they are at university now, across the street they notice, Jesus, what a beautiful mural they say.

He struggles on his back, the temple is being repainted, the light is poor but there is day light left, he wants to finish it before his vacation, he adds a few strokes, eases back, takes a second look, the shade of blue is perfect, her eyes mirror the blue in her garment, giving it the divine affect.

They went out in pursuit of what was only going to last a moment, well, once consumed it’s gone, while what the old man pursued, was what was going to last for ever. Nice and easy does it every time. Solomon sighed, what’s the rush, time is plentiful, what were you going to fill it with, was what mattered, amen.

Foundation Building

The wine farmer, nods, he is explaining the terroir, the land, and what it means to the wine maker. He has a glass bottle in his hands; in it, four types of soil, the difference, is there a difference wonders the small audience. Sandy and pebbly, heavy and smooth, the four types of soil, are all part of the land. The best grapes grow in the light brown and pebble dash soil, more breathing and better drainage he says, pointing to the far corner of the field; there is more sun too she smiles, one of the visitors says, sure.

They buy a few sample bottles; On the drive back to their lodgings, they discuss the enthusiasm of the farmer, how precise he was, how important the foundation is, and the power of the sun, to turn grapes into vintage wine, one of them is a teacher, she has a thought, her friends notice, “Lucy, what are you not sharing!”

Who wants to be serious on holiday, few. She wants to hold the thought. She imagines her children, her school children, as bottles of wine. Would it not be great to give them a foundation, rather than, toys that occupy their minds. She is high school, knows the problems facing families. How the mobile has replaced the parent almost, it’s not a popular thought, few will agree, but she is a teacher, and foundations are her core, just like the french wine maker, common sense to make those foundations secure.

a re blog, forever young….

via Lightness of being

Be Prepared ….a re blog

Meeting God requires nothing more than you creating the opportunity to do so. The rest is managed by God.

via Meeting — Soul Healing Art