Old Boy Blues

This can’t be happening Cardinal, it does not appear in any of our texts, it seems to be from the other Book, they don’t want to mention the word, why, it will mean extending their vision of compassion, it’s a touchy subject and they have got used to control, why would they ever dream of ever giving up that. You mean we are not the only ones, the setting, can’t you see it, 2,000 years earlier, the same argument between the Pharisee’s, as they gather to discuss the words of Jesus, anxious that he is getting a hearing and the crowds, worse still, they are listening to him, and he is even doing what the divine can only do, or is it demons.

The thought of eating without the ritual cleaning, and all sorts of food is fine with him, damn it, if this is allowed to go on, it’s going to make our rules and regulations meaningless, how did we allow it they sigh. Power, the old problem, and the zealots who are certain of their authority, enforceable authority, able at will, to undermine, well, when you imagine it, they put Jesus on the cross, hoping it was the ending of him, little did they know, it was only the beginning, and it’s being growing ever since, The Power of Spirit, and how it works to overcome the instincts that destroy us. Old boy blues, how can they explain this?.

Solomon sighed, the sun bursts from the Sky, the approval from on High, and no set of rules to coral it, just sweet simplicity. The old men could be discussing the fate of Joan of Arc, it could be anyone of Great Spirit, what happens, as Jesus said, they murdered the prophets and then afterwards, praised them. He was reading a book, the green cup of wisdom, words in the Islam Holy Book, is mentioned in the story, as for other words, they prophecy the Return of Jesus, too. In the end, the goal is the same, there are those who hold the words on high and repeat them, and there are those who acknowledge them, but don’t follow them, in the middle, the Wisdom of Jesus, solves all problems, for those who use them, same as good medication, taken with care, amen.

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Music for Well Being

The day opens, in the Kitchen, the children come down to eat, there is tension, the argument the night before, the air is thick, you want the place to yourself, stuff is going around your head, and the silence does not help. Fighting the inner demon, you shout off your mouth too often, booze perhaps, you don’t want to admit it, since he walked out on you and the kids it’s not the same, the letter in the post and the imminent divorce hearing, the children heard the screams you made, trying to stay afloat in a very emotional world. The grief counselor advised you to try new things, the children will have to get used to a new surrounds, but you can’t let go, then you remember the old times, it was good, music in the morning, you had them humming in the car. Putting the kettle down, you reach for the radio, the delay as you put your finger on the on button, you don’t want to hear the music you all listened to as a family, when is father coming home, the call, what a heart break, you are in tears every time they say those hard words, worse than a death, he is loving someone else.

 

The music comes on, the children bob their heads in tandem, the anger seems to let go, you watch them, what did they do to deserve this breakdown in their life. You think, you forget the hurt, you feel the need in front of your eyes, later you read the papers, you begin to see through immigrant eyes, cause isn’t that what we all are, seekers.

Solomon sighed, he had a dream, the child without a parent, the small boy calling out for his father, someone to sort it out, the same needs all over the globe, the feeling of security, someone you can discuss your emotions with, without fear. The so called experts can only plan for failure, when things go wrong they come up with the answers, never before, always later.  Too much for many, the tyrants the same experts support are causing a flood of people on the move, of course they give the well spun answers, while the UN hide, well, it takes so much time to get it organised they say, same as the plight of Palestine, a concrete heap, where children become scarred with hatred. With the signs in the sky, they better get active sighed Solomon, amen.

Meanwhile, breakfast becomes a new musical festival every day, the joy returns, each one of you has their own playlist, and inside you begin to shine.

Music on Monday

Monday, the end of january, the first days of Spring are near, you need to get your head clear, perhaps you need to unwind, music supplies much of what we need. Trying to lose the bias being poured into the mind, well, you heard so much in your years, how can you put those fears aside, where is the space you need, a hundred different emails, a load of tweets, and a host of other messaging services, who can handle the over load. Lets face it, we all have one set of eyes, and our brain has a wide variety of streams, you can’t work the same sections without letting the other parts down, it’s the same as letting down your children, be good to yourself, give your mind a rest, listen to music, you say you have not the time, well, if you don’t want a breakdown, you can always reach of the V’s.

Immigrants wait in the arrivals hall, why don’t they play music, waiting is a bore, apart from the stress, the officials behind the desk, pass paper over and back, oblivious to the needs at the other side of the counter, a little thoughfullness. Those in charge, if you make it too comfortable, you will only encourage others, what a mind set, we are all supposed to welcome guests, oh for the good times, amen.

The Queen Bee

Jimmy Bee is on the trial, buzzing from flower to flower, shaking his rear, grabbing the pollen, filling up with Nectar, in order to provide sustenance for the Hive and all his colleagues, all their efforts aimed at keeping the Queen. Is there a human equivalent, are we too focused, do we all want to be self made, does our communities matter, are we too localized, do we need to expand our area of operations, imagine Jimmy Bee, flowers not so plentiful, has to extend the range of his travels, has less to bring home, and is slowly getting worn out, what are the prospects for the Hive and all who depend on it.

Spirit is like that sack Jimmy brings home to the Hive, the flowers are less plentiful, the air quality weakening, stress on all systems. The pollinator in trouble spells trouble for all, same with Spirit. The spin of the big voices are great, but as Jesus says, the follow up is not as clear cut. Are we going to pretend times are good when they need to change, just saying. In real time Solomon encountered the Spirit, it is something worth remembering, as the inner Spirit is renewed, interventions occur from the world divine. Imagine, how easy it is, to increase the Spirit, and how well you feel afterwards.

Can we make money out of this, the financial guru is shouting at the young broker, you have the scene and the movie. The broker turns rogue and sells out his friends. When we don’t put effort into Spiritual loving

growth, how can we pray with a full heart to a God that knows everything. If we don’t mind the bees, how can we expect to survive, another off the cuff remark, Einstein was good at that, mind the bees, amen.

Pablo Escobar

Billions spent on the search, minds applied, technology deployed, resources unlimited, congress approved, when they are interested, there is no shortage of effort, wish the same effort was applied to social needs, they probably just forgot, meanwhile, many years after his death, record levels of drug use across the planet, more and more getting addicted to the gadget by the day, children under more stress than ever, the environment quaking at the seems, sounds as if they spent too much time on Pablo, the cheers that went up in some places the day he died, hardly a breath today, a case of bad management, would you not say. Being poor, it is a struggle, as those in the comfy seats never move aside, while those with the wealth, only want more.

Meanwhile, the technology gained from the death camp experiments in Germany during the great war, used to create the nuclear device, the means of our quick disposal, in the hands of some unsteady men, Pablo understood them better than most. Before the critic in you responds, I don’t advocate drug use, it’s all over the place as we write, it’s just a case of stating what is correct, happy new year, amen.

 

Why Me Lord…..

The question, the tragedy, the answers, no one can provide them, why me Lord, about to face death, bodies on bodies, children, men, women, stacked in heaps, she looks at the human misery, she is about to join them, has prayed all her life, a shot rings out, will someone pass the ketchup please, she falls, lies among the dead. her Spirit leaves her body, joins the world of eternity.  Years later, those trying to undermine Love, damage trust, trying to create the desire for only earthly things, thereby undermining the well being of Spirit and our connection with the world above, speak out in protest, why her Lord.

God sighs, I’m not an arms manufacturer, free will was your gift, it wasn’t forced on you, I sent along prophets, to remind you, there is light and dark, even child birth is painful. The critic replies, but why so many, how was it allowed to happen. Experience, is the father and mother of wisdom, when it hurts we remember, when it’s pure pleasure we want it more, it’s not black and white, and everyone living is playing a vital role. You want to enter Heaven, nice words, but it requires an effort, and that’s what your life is all about, making it there.

The critic shakes his head, damn good answer, how about the movements for change, why so many of them, why such chaos out there, God shakes his head, a critic, what else would you expect. The talk as if they know, when all they do is study something small, and try to apply it, how often has that error been made. I made you stubborn for a reason, and if you read the old scriptures, you will work it out. You think this world is a free ride, nice idea son, just remember, one day you will all have to hand it back. Amen.

The Party at the Inn

She is going through the list, who will she invite. She is very particular, doesn’t want to offend her guests, doesn’t want to upset anyone, mostly herself, it’s an image she has to protect, so she tells herself. The cost of it going wrong, she could lose the friendships of those who can help, her career is all that matters, the money is pouring in, and her manager wants to ensure it keeps that way. He deftly reminds her, the maintenance costs alone are staggering dear, and you love to swim in the pool, she does she admits, things, they can keep her occupied.

She checks the list, all are well to do, there is no need to be embarrassed, everyone will get along fine, she passes the list to her manager for approval, well, he has steered her well so far, she is busier than Elvis in her prime, besides, she had thrown a few dollars into the shelter, a few turkeys and boxes of sweets, they’ll think it Christmas, and she will give her ego a kick.

He reads the statement, the transfer overseas, the pension fund he reminds himself, the accountant is going to get a bonus, the fund is out performing the best estimates, it’s gravy all around. He reads the invitation, another of those parties, he wonders if he will bother, thinks twice, there might be a few worth networking around.

Is it all they do, count money, measure, size up, have they heart, is there any

spirit in them, Solomon imagined God Most High listening to the goings on, the pride and the foolishness of it all, no thought given to the eternal. Some party though….

A knock at the door, the butler purses his lips, she couldn’t possibly know this person, too shabby, and the face, drawn, I’m Mary, she says, a man stands at the gate, she has a bump, move on says the butler, madame has no time for you, he points to a shelter down the road, that’s where your type go. Solomon sighed, was the story of old all about the well being of Spirit, and the welcome it could look forward to, just imagine it…. isn’t a pity it’s only a crisis when there is no way out and never before, damn, wheres the party..?