It Wasn’t Us?

Impact, the influence we have on the lives of others, the red carpet is prepared so are the plaudits, the camera’s flash, smile, we are great, wow factor, then to be adored once inside the door, bling pretty clean new, the Kings and Queens of the earth, one day Solomon imagined, they would all have to account for their work.

Anger, a close up, the look in the eyes, the language, so grown up, even if meant for very young ears, well we, in a world that was over booked in terms of violence, those reading the script had a role in the matter too. Solomon watched a documentary, and it wasn’t pretty, gruesome, dark, very human and frightening.

The plans to murder, the old resentment never far from the top, Solomon listened, as locals and militia, joined in the murder of so many Jewish People, neighbors and work colleagues, quickly joining in the slaughter of millions, using the old hatred, and the false propaganda to justify their actions, it wasn’t us.

The child is five, maybe six, has to live in a difficult environment, has no place to turn, is emotionally committed, love is what we are born to, it’s the reason for being for all of us, getting along. Exposed to violence and those gadgets, he finds solace in the game that stops him thinking about, it’s how so many addictions are born.

It wasn’t us, what excuse was that, if you are aware of what is happening before your very eyes. Don’t mention hunger, amen. Imagine, God Most High is real.

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Artists Artists Artists.. United?

He has something to say, you should listen to him, she has a new voice, listen, artists, the small child has words he wants to say, he’s a child no one listens, why. Artists, the great global consciousness, well that was the way it was supposed to be, the collective thoughts contained in their works, be it sculpting, writing poetry, long stories, canvas, all filled with need, their heads and the hearts, pouring into the world their thoughts; man, I wanted to hear those words, they mean something, artists, and what happens, or more important, what is it that this all means. Consciousness, awareness, the need to show, the necessity to open hearts to new pathways.

What in affect happens; down through the centuries, anyone who harboured thoughts that conflicted with the dogma of the ruling class of the day, usually thwarted, unless they had the patronage of the same people, and when some made a break through, difficulty is what they found, resentment caused, labels applied, unwell, not one of us and so on, unless the general populace loved them and defended them.

Solomon was reflecting, there were so many issues, so many you’d be lost in the haze. He read about the difficulties the traditional sources of comfort were having; loss of personnel, message not being absorbed, loss of connection, and so on. In relation to divine enthusiasm, if you based your “art” or “vocation in life”, on the connection overhead (Solomon encountered Holy Spirit, the real one, was saved a few times), a power that hit the peaks at the time of Jesus, you would assume you’d hang onto the connection, not by cheating, but by incorporating the principles in your life. If talent dries up, maybe it’s time for a career change, rather than go fishing for others talents, those less organised as they say; otherwise their divine connection blurs then dies.

Solomon was comparing the times of Jesus Christ, the threats that he had to overcome, the weakness of the believers in the face of miracles, and the regular threat, same today as then, of the already organised machine that controls so many lives. At a time when there has been so many signs, and they are on the way, everyday in fact, the danger of speaking up, saying it as it needs to be said, simply, be brave.

Artists, avenues for thoughts to disperse; there has never been a more needy time for them. Your job won’t matter if the toxic dump leaks into your water supply; and the environment for your children won’t change into positive territory, until you make the effort to improve things; leaving it to your leadership, is the same as waiting for Godot.

The world needs a bit more Kindness and Compassion — Purplerays

“The Little Boy and the Old Man Said the little boy, “Sometimes I drop my spoon.” Said the old man, “I do that too.” The little boy whispered, “I wet my pants.” I do that too,” laughed the little old man. Said the little boy, “I often cry.” The old man nodded, “So do I.” […]

via The world needs a bit more Kindness and Compassion — Purplerays

The Dark inside

Bitten by a dog, the child is young, develops a phobia, doctor calls it normal, given the experience. Everyone agrees, who could recover from such an experience, a young man, full of spirit and intense with his ideals, wants to see the best in everything, wants to see evil punished, believes in his country, well, someone better will come along. You are now a marine sir, is soon sent to Vietnam, returns shell shocked, addicted, life is never to same, the expert says so, everyone agrees, who could recover from such an experience. Others call it a disability, a situation you can’t deal with, but a situation others can handle, so you are different, based on your experiences; are we agreed, yes we are!.

25% of the world, addicted in some form, the numbers are actually higher in truth, so many of us are good at disguise, he is busy all the time, she is a career girl, busy. Turn on the TV, listen to the radio, what is your profile, what time of day, advertise laxatives to the elderly, advertise underwear to the young, one group interested in being able to live with a little dignity, the others group interested in personal appearances; the dark inside, getting the balance right.

Solomon heard of fishing, it had been going on a long time.

The Young Master

He went to reach for his toothbrush, felt a brush against his leg, two sleepy eyes look up at him, Solomon smiled, inside he thought to himself, I hoped you would stay in bed, even an hour would have been great, that plan is gone, he continues to wash his teeth instead. Little hand reaches for his, Solomon smears it with paste, watches while the child imitates his moves, his small eyes watching how he moved the brush across his mouth, half laughing, but seriously laughing, glad to have a role model, one he

could argue with, one he could ask, one he was not afraid of. Stern words were never spoken, just a cast of the eyes and a frown did the trick every time. The routine is finished, the time for the breakfast, Solomon does the big friend thing, sits down and eats with the small boy. Slurp after slurp, the watchfulness of the young master, imitating the teacher, a wise young child.

How Children imitate it all; and how those charged with responsibilities tried to blame the individual for their failures. Later; He hears the cot move, the time is early morning, Solomon sighed; so this is what it’s like to be a mother, your children take your attention and time. The stuff Solomon learned from the young master, amen.

That Hurts!

On time she wakes, presses the button on the side table, the news. My pills, where are they, her first thought, can’t do anything without them, so see thinks. She is hiding demons; not demons inside, but the demons she is actively fighting. Her Spirit is strong, has been known to confront, no one mess’s with her, one strong woman they all say. In the morning no one can see her, the struggle, the weakness, the admitted failure; she drops two morning pills, they will put her on a calm cloud; she is ready to think.

She squeezes her hand, balls it, is the pain gone. She was playing guitar the night before; after there was a long ache, worse than a tooth ache; she wasn’t a talker, she played guitar instead. Her leather trousers are on a heap on the floor; she looks around for another pair of shoes; least she didn’t take home someone. It’s like the mind thing, when you forget, some things she wish she could forget it all; yeah, she had those thoughts, but they never went far, she numbed the demon first. That hurts, it’s her knee, she needs to sleep with it straight, her memory is vague; one thing she knows for sure, Her Spirit must remain strong, and that hurts sometime.

She had it all, another life lost, another star gone. So the pages said, the talent lost. But was it really; didn’t the events give an added energy to her works, as a new generation became aware of her artistic output, and would be influenced accordingly.

Jesus and His Friends….

He’s not supposed to hang out with women, they should be at home, women, what do they need to hear, they don’t make decisions, we do. The apostles are having a few beers in the tavern, Jesus is after heading out of town, they are doing his head in complaining, could they not just relax. Why are they anxious in the company of women, what do they fear. Jesus is seeking a place to relax, sit still, enjoy nature, listen as they say, undisturbed, he likes Martha, Mary, Elizabeth, even Lazarus’s sister, a pretty cool person; she listens better than the men, and they have no difficulty thinking the options through; always with the well being of children in mind; they are not planning on global domination, they think of the world to come, and how it will be for children. They are tired of the constant wars, and the talk of revenge; It’s doing his head in, they have to forgive, but first he has to forgive them, so he seeks solace. Lying on a blanket in the middle of a field, he asks wisdom to come to him, listen he says, this is not an easy situation, i need your advice, what will I do…Jesus and his friends, Men and women were always equal, they just had different skills in a world that was slow paced, that’s all….