The Bird Stopped Singing

Silence in the street, the familiar hum is gone, the beat that used to fill your head, the side to side rhythm, the bird is silent, but his memory lives on.  How we take it for granted, the sound of music, birds and their tweets, the friendly smile that used to lend you a cigarette, and those conversations that went anywhere but always had meaning. There is no economic value in a bird song, there is no money in music on the street, well, you can press the button and have it automatically, why would live music matter. Solomon heard of the passing on of a good soul and friend of his, a member of the James gang, an outlaw type.  Mornings spent listening for a half hour, the requests he played, Neil Young and more, thanks he says, I’m sure your entertaining elsewhere now.

Good leaders, how the business minded only value money and nothing more, amen. There had to be a loading given to wisdom in the days ahead, the danger to the environment, the abuse of communities, the madness of celebrity culture, there are artists who inspire. Solomon reflected on the many times he heard the banjo play as he rounded the corner, and the smile it would put you his face, and the few requests he could make. It wasn’t economic the activity, but it was wisdom to support it. He had in times past, and now he could as God Most High, and expect to get a hearing, even when he wasn’t right. You never stop listening to music, thanks John.

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Make Time For me

She sits at the table, the kitchen is one of those designer types, every gadget you can imagine, she nurses the glass of wine, she frowns, how he used to have all the time in the world for me, now she is lucky if he is home before ten, what an existence, waiting. Is this what they base success on, setting aside all those habits that brought you together for a dream somewhere else, we used to be so happy. How many make time for true love to grow, busy work habits, eating on the go, hurry, turning the head, did you see that, always in a hurry and making promises that you will never keep. It must be so much worse for a small child, wondering if they will see their father at all, the human well that has to fill, the start of love. Solomon sighed, he had a powerful dream, three men and a child, a boy that was healed, they came a long way, their faith was real, the prayer was answered, it wasn’t mere words.

In the busy world, the rush, it’s the same as faith, it gets pressurized, it begins to crack. He was reflecting on the past, a long time past, well, thirty years is a life time for some, but the stress that began to happen as life began to explode in all directions, the need to multitask, trying to cover up for families that were dividing, the population explosion, the need for small single parent homes, a conundrum, and the inevitable pressure on time for Spiritual growth, guru’s taking over the class room, the Teaching of Jesus, ignored, weather patterns that were verging on the hysterical, it was rush, and in the end, it was as if the world forgot where it came from.

You have to go back sometimes to see where you went wrong. It was written 2,000 years ago, God lives inside you, same as having part of your life dedicated to an interest, that is eternal, the guide that gives you the nod, whether it is real or good, and as the bad decisions pile up, the space becomes unimportant, the excuses that you use and start building, the affirmation as the news is bad, as if it was part of your decision making process, another reason to thrash what you once believed, like angry lovers who want to make excuses to dislike themselves further.

Eternity

The world is beautiful, people can be ugly, that’s all, the less of the Spirit the more difficult it becomes, the more harm the more cynical we become, the bigger the hole the easier it is to fill, the small pal the light the smile the gentleness, melting hearts and second glances the nurture, the expectations inside the Spirit rises, the neighb

urhood demons the hurt of others, the constant pressure holding out waiting, the disappointment the first slap the hurt, patience what was I doing so wrong, that TV and what is was showing me, it was just a case of imitation, the big fear the other voice the worry, the threat of violence and the tension on the heart, the struggle to be yourself and strong, the emotional hurt the feeling of being undeserving, the assault on the spirit the physical threat, the watchful eyes of God’s angels worrying, what have they allowed to go on, this Spirit is from the talent pool, it does not go unnoticed, and if they put a price on it or help for it, there is going to be no special enquiry, Solomon wondered what the blazes they thought they would get away with, it did not impress him one iota, beyond comprehension they better have excuses ready, dampening the Spirit at a time such as this, who were they getting instructions from, demons.

The child becomes a worried boy, the fiery spirit becomes wayward, stubborn, how did he end up like this, he is encouraged by angels who arrive in town, there is a call going out, you better mind the children all of them, there are sudden changes and great wonders, a form of panic sets in good choices are made regularly, the Spirit of God is pouring out, the words of Jesus fill the hearts an awareness, the changes are constant as the spirit continues to rise, Solomon sighed, he only had to write it a thousand times, amen.

Crisis In Numbers

Not enough votes to unite us, and too many votes that divide us. Numbers, the way we weigh things up, you don’t have enough numbers, you can’t get that, we wont get elected, you can’t afford that, numbers, little wonder there is a book of numbers in the ancient scriptures. The more you have in numbers, the safer you appear. The so called wisdom, and in our rush to get the numbers right, we ignored the other numbers, that apply to the health of the planet.

Crisis in numbers, not enough men and women to fill the roles and preach. Church in crisis, the numbers, how can it last. Crisis in Spirit, how do you increase it, the power to change the entire.

Children will shame you, and if you are intending getting into the higher love, a child you must be, a young person, not necessarily, it’s an appreciation you are supposed to show for the world and it’s creator, The Great God Most High. You are all children of a higher love, none of us are the boss. When the numbers reach the tipping point, the changes begin to take place, and we reach the critical level, so it seems.

Crisis in numbers, so much of the world already extinct, a number worth worrying about.

Love 1907 Style — The Müscleheaded Blog

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Hey gang! I found a very appealing and fascinating set of postcards from 1907 , featuring newlyweds off on their first adventure together : – their honeymoon. These cards were published by the Julius Bien & Co. Lithographic firm, which was in business between 1850-1915 in New York City. Bien himself was originally an immigrant […]

via Love 1907 Style — The Müscleheaded Blog

To wake up each morning knowing that the Creator of the universe loves you — From guest writers… re blog, you are never alone

The greatest thing in life is to wake up each morning knowing that the Creator of the universe loves me. As one writer put it ‘He loves me as I am, not as I should be, but He loves me too much to leave me as I am’. ~ Alan Hermann

To wake up each morning knowing that the Creator of the universe loves you — From guestwriters

Those Old Wars

A lot of bloodshed, a lot of heart break, does anyone remember their names, hardly, Amo nods in the bed, still a teacher, he listens, it’s all that He can do these days, listen. You are not feeling well he says, his visitor is an old friend, they were in college together, that is sixty years or more, over a hundred and twenty years between them, come to think of it, a lot of living time on the planet, a couple of major wars, the great one in 1939, do they all remember that, ration cards, doing without petrol, driving the car twice a week, if you were lucky enough to have one.

I’m getting old Amo, says the friend, not unlike yourself, they share a smile. They went on the odd holiday together, when travel was a huge experience, not the twenty four seven event it is now, when tickets to anywhere can be bought within hours of flying, and half the price when you do. Amo sighs, everything moves on, in the end we leave behind what, memories, that are hopefully, a legacy of a sort. The old friend, nods. Will anyone remember us, the thought is on his visitors mind, Amo has no such fears.

Immune to the news, Solomon sighed, when we hear too much of it we switch off. There is another appeal, another famine zone, another disaster, another social meltdown, the car moves along, the radio is changed, music, an awful lot happier, positive. Immune are we, to news and all that we don’t want to hear. Solomon pursed his lips, an observer, he watched it all. It must have been the same at the time of the ancient prophets, the news no one listened to, the descent into pleasure, this is going to last forever. Time tells us, it never lasts, maybe that’s what we need to recall, it is all passed on, your habits, good bad or indifferent.