Spirit Women

In praise of you all, I am a mere man, yes, my brother men made it difficult, they put barricades around common sense and made it hard, worried your children and put traps before them, caused dissent among you, and chose the most influential, and when you no longer shined, they dumped you, raised Joan of Arc, Marguerite Porete and many others, after they nailed them to the bonfire, maybe it was in order to teach us, we read about it later, what happened, but remember this, the words of Jesus, they did the same to the prophets of old, it wasn’t a woman thing, it was all about power. Making trophies of beauty too, the very thing Jesus railed against, put their energies into controlling everything, the very thing real love never does. Yes Spirit women, there are causes that arrive like conveyor belts full of troubles, trying to distract you ,trying to focus you into someone else’s war, listen if you have ears, cast your love wide, and bring as many good souls into your nets, do as Jesus would say, learn to heal, put your Faith in Jesus and the Holy Father, amen.

Solomon sighed, he was listening to a friend, a woman of great Spirit he knew was being overwhelmed, had suffered as a result. While Solomon listened, he imagined the huge number of causes anyone could get caught up in, many of them created to distract and divide those of Holy Intent. Behind the scenes there are those who agitate and try to distract, watering the Spirit as they say. Solomon prayed, remind them this night dear Father, send these extremists the nightmares they deserve. He sighs, Solomon encountered the Holy Spirit, and saw the wonderful affect a few nights before, the sense of awe among those gathered, even the preacher was dumbfounded, let there be more, amen. They were even talking of Miracles, who can complain about that. it’s the start of something new and wonderful.

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Harry the Potter

Amo, what does He mean when he uses words such as potter, and stuff, it’s rather confusing, the request of a small child. Amo drifts back to his school days, he is having a recall while lying in bed in his care home. The thoughts on his mind when he faces the divine one, it’s like preparing for an exam, and Amo has high expectations.. A teacher all his life. He tries to remember the answer he gave that day. The child had one of the harry potter books in his hands, was there a connection he could make.

Amo thinks, don’t pretend if you don’t know the answer, and if it’s an educated guess admit it. Amo is tired of the so called global experts, and their expert opinions, it hasn’t worked, caused huge global problems, these so called expert opinions. A bit like Brexit and the United Kingdom, a huge bonus for every country but the United Kingdom, so much for expert opinion.

The potter fashions the clay, creates the vessel that holds liquids or foods, enables us to sit down and eat together. Without a vessel to hold water, think how difficult it would be. The Child nods, easy to understand that. So when it goes wrong sighs Amo, what does the potter do, say when it begins to leak. The child nods, that’s easy the little boy says. He makes a new one. Amo’s face widens into a grin, a wise little vessel this one is. Amo continues.

The clay can be refashioned too, when it gets out of shape he says and needs to be adjusted. You mean when it’s been made asks the Child. Amo sighs, God does not make mistakes, he wants to get it right. How about this he says smiling. The times when you know you done wrong and allow someone else to take the blame, how do you feel about it after, The child sighs, tears in it’s eyes, you feel bad, and you try to avoid them, don’t you, he says.

Amo is trying to connect the thinking of the Child to wisdom, there is no one solution. In his mind he recalls the teaching of Jesus, the faults that are passed on when we can’t forgive, and the resentment it causes later, and the harm passed on.  That would be one reason for refashioning the clay, apart from the destruction of the message it was supposed to carry… One way of putting it, enough for one day he sighs, the class is over, he is back in his bed in the care home, but smiles at the memory of long ago, seeds well sown, he’ll pass that test all right.

 

School Child

Sits proud, a smile on his face, they are reading his poem, inside it feels good, to be acknowledged, and told you are good, he bites his lip as the praise comes, it’s the stuff he needs to hear at home, but school will do, his teacher is generous in heart, has empathy for her charges, does whatever she can, likes to laugh. The school bell goes, he puts his books into his satchel, teacher smiles as he goes out the door, well done young man. His father has no time for education, is always complaining, put down by his own father, he is passing on the lessons learned to his son, that’s the way it goes, thank God for great school teachers.

On the walk home, he swings his bag, stares at the trees, birds live in them, there is a cow in the field, moo he says, the cow shakes his head. The need for expression, and the fear in being vulnerable, the minute he gets in the door, he wonders if she will be drinking, the dread, her insults will pass over him like water in a stream, his mind and emotions set on that moment in class, the admiring looks of his fellow pupils and teachers.

Solomon sighed, how a little encouragement works the oracle, amen. Best of all.

Shy Girl

She laughs, he listens, she forgets herself in his company, there are no ills, all dread is cancelled, she wants to hear more, she wonders his opinion, it’s love in an active form, you don’t own it, she enjoys the moment, in times of distress, she goes over the conversation, listens to what was said, the words calm her thoughts, the light gets inside her, her Spirit rises, she imagines the Sun rising, it does, when she listens to His words, she thought she was a shy girl, now she is a smiling girl, a transformation.

What is Love, the question of questions, can you bank it, can you ever own it, she is trying to get her head around it, it’s the one question that needs an answer. Solomon sighed, it’s really simple. It’s healthy to begin with, does not lead you astray, and leaves you wanting more, without loosing your mind, and leaves you smiling or crying, amen.

 

You’ve Got Me All Wrong 6 – You Are The Creator Of Your Own Reality — Erika Kind…. knowing yourself is a good start, a re blog…

Quote

A few weeks ago I picked up one of Walsch’s books and began to read the first pages. After I read the short list of the 25 core messages to explain the main message (in the title) I stopped reading. It was so inspiring and I my mind started spinning. Before I am reading on […]

via You’ve Got Me All Wrong 6 – You Are The Creator Of Your Own Reality — Erika Kind

Opened Eyes

They didn’t see it coming, straight into the storm, the human storm, not the weather forecast, satellites, they should invent one for the human race that isn’t powered by money, feck it, when it’s a snow storm of cash, it blinds everyone, well, those things you could never do, suddenly your world brightens up, I can really be like that, how the eyes open up. Parents, their nightmares begin, it was fun in the beginning, now they realize that any sod can befriend their child, and there is nothing they seem to be able to do about it, apart from read of the despair elsewhere, those distracting headlines, as if they can recall them twenty four hours later, a distraction, while the nightmare returns, their child addicted to the machine, and if it isn’t that, well, the dealer can provide the rest.

Solomon sighed, it was the story of the wise bird, looking for love, a mate, someone to play around with. When in the zone, bird can do the dance, flash the feathers, do all sorts of things, to impress the mate, bingo, we got a connection. Then the nest building commences, the future is being created, and they need to supply the foundations, not any old tree, somewhere safe, they don’t want to be blown away. Then bit by bit, they gather, the new life arrives, the work continues. If the bird knows all this, and they all do, how come the human type never seems to get it right, always distracted, eyes wide shut as stanley would put it.

The old words come to mind, He sent the prophets, they partied while Noah built the ark, amen.

Me Too Hungry….

Me Too, Me Too, what are you saying Liz, your not making sense, Me Too, what’s wrong with you, we are all hungry, give us this me too rubbish. The weathered woman looks up at the overhead satellite, keeping on eye on them, while they starve to death, Me Too, hunger, who isn’t. Her Friend is stirring the mash they call food, a ladle in one hand, a mobile phone in the other, a modern smart one. She is reading about the Me Too revolution going on, she wonders if it’s a game show, many famous people are involved. Me Too she shouts, her friend sitting in the shade turns around, will you give up this Me Too rubbish or we will send you to the asylum. At least they will feed me there she replies, with a laugh.

The old lady gets up, wonders over to her friend, what is this Me Too business. Sitting in the middle of the desert, they are reading all about the new social media thing, what is it about, they don’t understand it. They press the right button, they go to an information section and donations, the younger one reads, she nods, Me Too she says, who hasn’t suffered in this world.

Suffering says the old woman, I haven’t not known it, amen, Me Too.