A Child is Born to the world….

I could be watching TV. Well TV is what he heard these last six weeks. A break from the rattle tattle of the office printer he was used to night and day. too warm to move, cosy and wrapped, fed continuously, room was getting tighter, Pushy was getting anxious. Due to make his first official appearance onto the world stage, he’d been holding off this last week, on account of the weather forecast. Cold and icy for the next three weeks announced the weather forecaster a week earlier, just as pushy was ready to make his big entrance. Pushy decided to remain a tummy baby, yet to be born, but like all great actors, waited for the right moment to enter the fray. She’s eating burgers again, washed down with orange juice, pushy liked orange juice, burped inside her tummy, forcing him to shake a leg.

I can feel him moving” smiled Mary. Other friends laughed loudly. Pushy wiggled around trying to get his ear into position. What are they saying, I’m not even born yet and they are making plans for me. Did they ever hear about free will.

Like sliding about, be a baby inside a tummy. Pushy was rolling around in his mother’s tummy. She was on her feet again. She’s eating again, what this time wondered pushy. Smelled okay, he wondered if it was a Chinese, hopefully not. Beef, fresh Irish beef, yummy smiled pushy who was being fed through his mother. The rich smell of Tipperary beef, probably the best beef on the planet. Well, when you have the freshest water in Europe to cook with, to grow with, the outcome is usually wholesome, and good for pushy who could only think of himself.

Do they all speak with that accent wondered pushy, the theme tune to a familiar soap opera waking him up after a short nap. They didn’t speak like mammy figured pushy trying to work out the plot line, moving himself around, trying to get his best ear to the action. The doorbell rang. Shit sighed pushy, he’d never know if they had the affair. New shit tomorrow.

any news yet” asked Jennifer, a friend of mammy’s.

if it doesn’t move soon I don’t know what I’ll do” replied mammy, back on the couch.

This is really bugging me, they are pushing me too far. I’ll surprise them.

More food, spicy shit, this is unbelievable fumed pushy trying to move around his tummy room. Makes you fart, burst even. Dirty tricks department, they are trying to move me. Wait till I get out of here, just you wait. She stopped eating, god that was close. The door closed. It was time for bed. The bump the bump, four more bumps and we’d be on the bed. He liked the way mammy massaged him while they were in bed lying down. He could swim up and down across and for as long as he wanted, unimpeded too. she’s getting fast sighed pushy, not realising that is was he who was growing fastest. I used to be able to stretch, not so much now.

Soft music put him in a trance. She played him frank Sinatra in bed. Good taste, a real smoocher, our frank Nuts, I don’t believe it, not even normal nuts, spicy nuts. She’s trying to do my head in sighed pushy kicking out in disgust. Mary smiled, patted her tummy. Who loves you she said. Pushy listened with rage, how could she eat spicy so late at night. Down there, he often wondered what was down there, never went down there, felt safer up here. He could rest up here, down there and he’d nothing to hold onto. His foot slipped all of a sudden, got caught on a ledge. Pushy held on for dear life. Twisted around, head first, if I go down there I’ll never come back, I’ll lose my comfort zone. Where’s the water gone. Mammy was on her feet. I hear her on the fone. I’m stuck, I’m stuck. Jennifer is at the door. Mammy mammy, it’s an earthquake shouts pushy, does anyone ever listen. What am I supposed to do. Stuck in the black hole, I’m dead I’m dead, ah, ah, I see light, light, god I’m alive, I’m alive, ah mammy, mammy screams pushy, tears in his eyes, tears in her eyes as well.

Lights everywhere, the place smells horrible, voices I never heard all around me, I’m not putting up with this. Pushy cleared his throat and screamed for all his worth. A minute later he was lying with mammy. She’s my mother smiled pushy…. 

lets get Serious!

Jim, you can’t hide your shotgun under the bed, there’s three in the closet, and I’ve got an automatic under the pillow, what if I reach down in the middle of the night, looking for my cigarette lighter, and the damn thing goes off, what if you happen to be stepping out of the bed at the same time, what If Jim!, Honey replies Jim, you know when you have that cigarette, It’s because you are after..Oh Jim, you are my honey…

Three nights later, the mooing stops, Linda reaches for her after the moment cigarette, she accidentally drops her lighter on the floor, reaches under the bed, the sidelight is out, the bulb Jim never fixed. Boom, she triggers the shotgun instead, lucking Jim only had his left foot hanging over the side of the bed, he only lost four toes, not the big one…

I told you smoking was bad for your Health dear moaned Jim, while in the ambulance on his way to the medical center. Linda sighs,m seriously Jim, you should have fixed the bulb, then this wouldn’t have happened, daH!.

Solomon wondered about poor Jim, his distraught wife, their small tragedy, their life. Being Gun Heavy wasn’t so smart. Well, it’s the same as leaving your Porn Collection on the dining room table when there are children in the House, you’d never do that, unless you were trying to influence them that way. Does that sound logical.

Safer to keep it out of sight on the Phone I suppose.

To All the women who struggled, had to put up with it, this is Saint Brigid’s day..

Solomon sighed, he wondered where the sense of nurture was found in most lives; the answer came easy, he thought of the mothers of this world, and all that they sought, a peace filled world for their children, fairness, and respect. It is not a lot to ask for, but considering the huge numbers of women burned at the stake, and how the role of the feminine was dragged through the proverbial sewer, unless you were lucky enough, to have been chosen by the King, and those with similar fortunes.

Solomon wondered; how did we thrash so many great gifts, why did we listen to those mantra’s, there is nothing you can do; what influence was trying to instill this into so many heads. Saint Brigid would have given them short shrift. A no nonsense lady, amen, blessed with the Spirit from above….

The Horse Trainer

He walks around the paddock, his head raised high, his eyes pointing, his head recalling, the posture of the filly, is she walking all right, he doesn’t want to alarm the animal, he appears not to notice, it has to be natural, throws a a sly look, was that a limp, maybe she has a back problem, watching, how we carry ourselves. Wake up Sean, you are doing it again, what he says, his attention back in the moment. What Dear he says. She has a snarl in her eye, I saw you looking at her. They are outside a restaurant. You never gave me that attention, the thought she keeps inside her. She is getting older, not that she is old. WE all love to be noticed, when we are in the prime of our lives. We all want to be noticed, we want to be of interest in the street.

She leaves her house, her trolley before her, she can’t carry weight on her shoulders, her blonde tresses are turning to grey, her walk is not as smart, age, tiredness, a lot of emotional stuff inside. She lights up when she catches the eye of a passer by, they used to gaze at her, when she was young, memories.

Solomon sighed, how we look at each other. There were many well dressed young women and men, strutting themselves. How would a horse trainer

size them up. He heard the words before, hips do this, legs do that, it wasn’t sexual as the moral brigade tried to impress on us, it was just our nature, we all watch, and wonder, life is a gift. Beepers, imagine what it’s like, you are a race horse, you know you have the ability, in the right hands, the potential will show, patience required. How talent flourishes in the right hands. Jesus only had to wish it sometimes and people recovered, sometimes it was touch. Look in the eyes, are you well, doesn’t every mother know that, and they all didn’t have PhD’s in psychology.

Those who fed fear into the world, he hoped they had celestial insurance, amen.

Young Turk

Hair greased, slicked back, he is not attitude, he does not recognize authority, not of the human kind, his goal is heavenly, has seen his home village destroyed, the pain and trauma, the cheap words of world leaders, after every atrocity,  they have been saying the same thing for years, pass the book, let the next set of leaders take the chance, see how long will they last, meanwhile plan for retirement, and a comfy living, while observing the harm, from all their inaction. Did Jesus say the same, words are great, prayers too, but without love in actions to support, what were you anyway, an empty vessel, a lot of noise and nothing else, as for those long winded applauded speeches, just yellow paper now, faded as the dreams were, the hopes raised that never flew. The Young Turk does not intend to suffer that fate. He is patient, he intends no harm, and will do his thing, he does not want to loose the heavenly connections, that is what has been happening, these last fifty years. The Young Turk has ideas of his own, prays it straight, and when he does, the help always arrives, no fool him.

So many refugees on the move, so many trying to find a home, clean water, it used to be all over the place, why did we have to pour poison into the water; well, the child in rags playing in the rubble, forever hopeful. Solomon sighed, may the schemes of extremism and those who plan such things, implode of the extremists, amen. can’t we just accept we are different at times, amen.

Solomon sighed, he told the health professional a few details of Life in the Spirit, the struggle between the material and eternal life. Well, it’s not easy being a believer sometimes; it puts an onus on you.

The Gift

“Imagine it, your thoughts can be used to remedy, heal, improve, restrict demons, curtail extremism, and an awful lot more, while being still able to enjoy a nice glass of wine, not forgetting the simple things, the peace of mind that good sleep brings, imagine, those demons of the night, they can do nothing, simply aware, of the future that awaits them, and being merciful, at least they get the opportunity to amend, and it’s all real.”

“Are you for real she says”, interrupting his flow. I only asked him about the book he was reading, she didn’t expect a thesis.

They are sitting side by side on the Jet, they are both flying across the ocean, strangers, she had asked a question about a book he was reading, “the imitation of life according to Jesus”. It’s a five hour flight, and he reminds her of someone from her past. She does not fear asking questions. Well, if he is reading a book about “Jesus”, he has to be friendly and easy to open a dialogue with, she hopes. Her own trust in the world is on a downer, divorced, discarded, dumped, thrown overboard, at a loose end, she is looking for the light. She’s been in this frame of mind all day, the journey she is making, a rest and escape from it all.

You don’t believe he says with a smile. Her eyes rise in her head, she looks at the ceiling, if only he knew she thinks. Dumping her stuff on a stranger, who wants to hear about other peoples woes. She purses her lips, half looks at the book cover, then begins to speak.

“If he was so right way back then, it seems he has disappeared don’t you think,” she lowers her eyes to the book.

Jesus she says again. He smiles, it’s catching isn’t it he smiles. The more you think of the Holy Name, the memories and feelings that are created. Well she says, you seem confident about it, can you explain it simply for me. He hums and haws. No one want’s to be a bad teacher, and not every question can be answered as if it’s coming from a machine or robot.

His tongue swirls around his mouth, he catches the scent of her perfume, it makes his nose itchy, he reaches up and rubs his nose.

“Spirit he says, it’s inside you, and there is the Spirit of God, that stuff you call the soul. If you imagine your soul as a new computer, without scratches, then years later, used, with a few cuts and smears, after years of usage, when you are prepared to put it in the rubbish, you might call it a journey. Life is like that disc. What condition is it in at the end of the journey when it’s returned to the original vendor, do you get me he says.”

She is confused, she is trying to get her head around it. Who wants a philosophy lesson on a mid Atlantic flight. Computer discs, souls, the condition at the end, she is thinking all these bits. He looks at her, can see that she is digesting what he has said, waits.

Confusing he says, she pauses, well, it’s not what I expected. The air hostess is passing with the trolley. Can I have a gin and tonic he says, and yourself he says. Non drinker she says.

She listens to the crackle of the ice, as the liquid flows over the ice. He listens and talks well, she wonders how long the flight is, there are many questions she wants answers to. Being an achiever all her life, this conversation is something she does not want to miss. Her Heart feels lighter, that name she sighs, Jesus.

Come Follow Me

Strong words, requires trust, the need for bravery, but lets stop here, the news was of another world, the ability to rise the Spirit, the ability to make well, put down your worries and leave them behind, follow me. How can you do without and still have enough, the words are a contradiction, how can they make sense, what is the meaning of the world, what is the meaning of the word, how can God live inside you, who can do that. These are the thoughts surrounding the early apostles, and early followers. What is my life without all those things, I feel better with a Jet in the car port, my pride rises, it makes me feel good, others think better of me, and you want me to give it all up. It must have been a bit of a downer, having so much of this world then realizing it didn’t count for anything ounce it was over, you life. Solomon had many plus and negative moments, made some difficult choices, same as many before. Listening to the words, give it all up for me, what can that mean.

Solomon slept in it over night, the answer was easy. The stuff of this world does not last, it doesn’t matter, it is out when your gone, what else is there to leave. Solomon recalled the names, those that inspire us deeply, the stuff that moves the soul and heart, he never saw a price tag on it though. It’s easier for the bird to fly when the load is light, amen.