Saint Patrick, an ode to Yeats, Behan, Oscar wilde, and a host of others, the sages of the past…..

 

This is pulled from the archive, it’s the National day of Ireland, so in these times of trial, lets reminded ourselves all, of the struggles we have all got through….

 

The world is beautiful, Have you ever thought about it, the world that is, is it not beautiful in places. We call those places national parks, so many miles of ocean across all frontiers, touching each other in special places the way the sun used to be, and still is in those extra special spaces, now we get burned frozen or flooded instead, except of course for those special places, and the bank manager we wish him dead, the women and their faces we can’t stop looking, the hours spent grooming their façade well look at TV no frowns allowed can’t you tell, a little perfume on the hips lipstick on the lips, as mothers seek safe refuge to build a nest as well, then an heirloom arrives the result of love so they said, children of course keep on watching and waiting, it’s a show they’ve already heard, Disney shows written by old pro’s words they use children in the viewfinder, they used to call it inspiration, today they ration the dead, literally and bury them live on TV, I won the lottery the dredge is no more, no smart opinions to get high on, pure doesn’t give you headaches, it kills you instead, don’t tell Santa he said.
But it’s a pity really, having tossed so much of our future away, the consequence of pure greed that the poorest will pay for instead, they’ve cut back the bird crumbs this week I heard, poor crow, shot at three times dived bombed by a sparrow hawk, a busted wing he hung on, two miles up the road and he’d be fed, earthquake on the TV, the world is falling apart, live on TV of course, you’ve guessed it CNN they are the first to call to help, world latches on cameras roll on carelessly, footage is worth more when you’re dead, no point saving the sick across the world, cant get them together like a Spielberg movie, we’ll rely on old footage. Isn’t the world beautiful he said, the luck of the Irish they always said it was worth waiting for, amen. He said if they gave up the drink, shur they could do anything, well…

Woman Eyes Man….

It’s a different world, those in total power don’t feel so total anymore, they don’t eye up the girls as they used to, not in the workplace. Images, in the head, what is lying in the head, do they measure the size of your butt as well. She walks down the boulevard, she is no nonsense, she eyes two men coming her way, she throws a glance at them, they turn their heads to the side, avoiding her stare, what are you looking at she says under her breath. That is more like it, she walks on, her stride is purposeful, no goofball here she says, even if she sometimes wears a tin pot over her head, but that’s private.

She loves animals, adores cats, adores all living creatures, she is a Spirit straight from the cookbook of mother nature, well, she enjoys clean water, the outdoor life, clean crisp air, doesn’t mind getting dirty, she just enjoys being well. It started at school, she had a dream. She wasn’t the class A girl, she sat at the rear, did enough to get by, not much else, she wanted to figure it out for herself. Was not going to be bullied, had seen too much of it, even the nuns were in awe of the priest, too much so.

Years later she is on the journey, she is a wisdom seeker, she follows a trail, there is a voice she hears, it seems to fit her well, it allows her to relax, she can be silly, it’s all right to be a little crazy, who doesn’t need to unwind. The voice is what matters she tells herself. She arrives in the town, she has done research, she is getting close, even the weather is improving, it used to rain all the time, not so much now they tell her. Frequency survivor she calls herself, the air is so full, the information moving seamlessly and what it’s doing to animals, mother nature, those that are sensitive, are all being harmed by this world that revolves around invisible rays. But she is hopeful, the news from on High, points to an Earth that appears to be recharging itself, so the vibrations say, has it anything to do with the voice. She is on a walkabout, there is a cafe in the dream, she saw it clearly, saw the signpost, she spots it on a side street, I’m here.

In a matter of seconds she begins to relax, will I recognize him she wonders. Eggs with a slice of spinach across and coffee black he says while at the front desk, the voice, was it the rhythm of the words, she sits up. If only she could be certain. Woman eyes man….the story continues….

Solomon smiled, it was a great story, and while there is so much that is wrong, it’s not impossible, the problem being, so many were being lured to different paths, their anxieties forcing them to take a position. He loved animals too, and the whole outdoor life, but real change to occur, required a new heart on the inside, the transformation. There were also those who tried to help the situation, those sensitive to thought, along with the coterie of those, who wanted things to remain the same while getting well paid for obstructing the lives of real Spirit, our ability to contact with the divine. Solomon sighed, why worry about it, He encountered the Great Spirit, and received blessings, saw the results when the Spirit was being passed out, the real time changes. So you want to change the world; It’s simply this, pass the loving Spirit on, let God take care of the rest, amen.

We are all refugees

 

Treat us well, nothing gracious, just be gentle, don’t look down on me, so I am a refugee, tired and tortured, have you any idea, what a welcome means, a wide eyed smile, not the stare of suspicion, had enough of those, in my shoes you have a different view, pushed about, moved on, unwanted, voiceless, those who speak up for us, ready, the cameras, the sixty seconds of hope, someone might care about us, those protests, don’t know where to turn, just want to put the head down, can’t return, what is there left, we put faith in it, trusted above, go and find, maybe that is the welcome, the real presence of God, not the words, maybe we are walking faith, ever think of that, hardly, you remind me of my family, all you do is count the cost, isn’t everyone doing it, ignoring the blessings, what a possibility, what economist can value that, Solomon sighed, he understood the plight of the refugee, there had been many exodus’s over time, he thought of the actions of certain leaders, how their actions lifted, did the impossible, and those not so good at leading, but using the word of God, he wondered at their fate, in a time of change, the outcomes weren’t too hard to figure out, if you know what I Mean? History and the exodus were we being tested.

 

So many parallels, as if history had been compressed in a few lives, the movements,

Believers don’t need to worry …Remember Moses, Abraham…

Easy for you to say, the words that slip from the tongue, are you able to prove it, the first words on most minds, easy for you to say. He is poorly dressed, his shoes leak, his hair is a mess, and there is only the price of a coffee in his pocket, don’t worry he says. Solomon sighed, he saw the Spirit at work, saw the anxious turn to happiness, it was the flip of a switch, come to think about it, so did Moses, but Moses always gave credit to God, he never tried to claim credit himself. Many years later, Jesus repeats the words, all glory to the Father. Those who are jealous of power and envious wondered, how can he do this; their response; he has demons in him they said. Jesus hears their thoughts, understands them better than they could possibly imagine and warns them; Dudes, you can say what you like about me, but if you dare insult the Holy Spirit, you won’t just regret it. Moses returns from the Holy Mountain, got the assurance from the Most High God, is content, this is working out he says to himself, he weeps, his joy immense, to have the approval of the eternal God, mega. Then he he see’s them back to their old ways, worshiping what’s earthly and common, same as those who judge people so quickly; not ambitious enough, you must be unwell; a child decides to serve God, had a career in front of him, what a waste his friends say. Forty years later, they ask their unambitious pal to intercede for them before God; life has a habit of turning around rather quickly. So if you believe, why worry then.

To see the wonders of God, amazing.

The Big Match… Music by dire straits, read all about it, the sultans swing…

 

Everyone is up for the game, it is all over the papers, in the heads of everyone, there is a bounce in the step, it is on the edge of domination, the thoughts in many heads, all about the big match. It will last eighty minutes, and there will be rejoicing for some, misery for others, and by the evening time, the big game will be forgotten, replaced with another Big Match, talked up, when the frenzy will repeat itself, the addicts dream.

In the middle of the joy to come, you can let the hair down, your excess’s won’t be noticed, same as your lust in those poor parts, where women are cheap, but as you open your eyes, its’ on everyone’s mind. Why are they not at the beach like the rest of us, then you remember, the big game.

Twenty per cent, probably an awful lot more, with deep seated addictive minds, and no shortage of replacements; the children can’t do without the gadgets, the parents don’t have the patience. The urge for the next hit, once you have that feeling, the big match is the cover, well, we all want to get out of our lives, when it becomes a drug, well, you are in lots of company.

Solomon sighed, how the mood is so easily changed, could be a name dropped at an inappropriate time. As for the big match, can you put yourself back to the times of the early preachers; no doctors, no hospitals, but faith in many hearts, they are all believers in the Heavenly God, problem is, it has never been fully explained, it’s inside you. Then they hear about the Healer, the testimonies, he has the power of God in him, now, that is what you call, a big match, and it lasts for ever.

Solomon, is in bed, he is contemplating, asking for help, always. There is no reason to feel proud, no one makes it alone. The air whirls, the Spirit appears, darn, this is help from the Heavens, and it’s been happening ever since.

First Impressions

The second you pause, stop, the eyes open wide, the memory is born, you didn’t race past on the way to your next appointment, you stalled, you might not plan it, you had to stop, a second look, how the first impression is real every time. Solomon recalled the army of good souls, out there today, trying to impose their truth rather watching who the audience was, you don’t need to lecture, you just need to live it if you believe it, deeds.

A boy pulls a box on wheels, a wooden box with round bits stolen from a supermarket trolley, the boy wasn’t going anywhere, he was going around in circles, and his two pals were chasing after him. Solomon watched from the comfort of the upmarket saloon, a car another drove. The drop was a quick stop, a five minute call, the neighborhood wasn’t friendly, no jewelers or anything like that, maybe a rehab center, as close as it gets to humanity. How important was that first impression, how important is every act of kindness, they add up.

In the modern world we tend to leave caring to charity workers, by passing the inner soul, as if we are management level, and leave the hands on stuff to others. The inner soul is God’s refuge inside, and it needs to be exercised, it does not live on good intentions, you have to get involved. As time passes, the need for a more emotional world is becoming so obvious; without souls that care, what is left, not a whole lot.

Solomon recalled that little boy and his pals, who appeared around the corner, pulling their imaginary car, with a piece of string that someone discarded. First impression, how they fared after that, the three young friends, who knows, but they made an impression on Solomon and his heart process, amen.

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