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.

 

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Word Power

It’s amazing sighed Amo, the old gitter is being helped onto the toilet, he can hardly walk, but it doesn’t matter so long as he gets there, least he can sit normally, word power he says, how words can shock us or inspire us, frighten us, warm our hearts, constrict us, start a fire in us, simple words. The ears are always open to words, we are programmed to hear them. so long as we are allowed, that’s why there are those that restrict us, words, we don’t want that said, it will only upset our plans, the big reputation at risk, afraid to hear them, and what others might think, the framing of words, an art form. What do you mean Amo asks the nurse, while helping him clean his ass. Words he sighs, it’s how we understand the world, we can’t do without them, how else can we communicate.

Solomon sighed, the way reputation is guarded, how voices are silenced, words usually. The only reputation worth having was one of the Spirit, the Spirit that enlightens, not the Spirit that darkens, words again, how we use them. The first words in the ancient scriptures, the word became alive, and the world was created, by Great Spirit, the light, word power again.

Those checking their bank accounts ought to do a check on their Spiritual well being, the words they use, the sentiment in the heart, were they merciful, did they try to achieve at any cost, did they undermine love in order to get what they wanted, did they blame others for their own lacking, a few words he sighed would sort it all out, word power again, same as a good prayer, amen.

 

If Spirit is the communication tool that is eternal, wasn’t it time to get practice at it, given all the recent changes…

Amo Rules The….. A.R.T World

The old geezer in the corner, chortles, he is having a good laugh, this is real. A visitor is scheduled to see him, always brings some bootleg, well, a sniff of real grass, the stuff that opens the senses, allows you to smell, better than snuff, sweeter too, probably great for all sorts of nasal blockages, medical world of old not a fan of it, can’t replicate that unique smell, like breathing in sweetened air, only better, purely natural.

The old folks home, warm in winter, a safe haven, staff extraordinarily kind. Amo feels so good, he feels sometimes like he rules the world. Well we all smell at times, who doesn’t, as for all that chemical stuff they use to stifle those smells, it’s as if they are trying to vaporize the entire planet, a selection of them in every home, wind safe, no air movement at all, does anyone get it, they are living in their own incubators. As for Amo, he doesn’t give a fart, lets off quite a few, but that’s natural considering his age, ask Jack, (nicholson) he will tell you all about them. As for Amo, just a whiff of sweet marijuana and he’s running through a meadow again, not that he smokes or anything, that’s what the young ones do, amen.

Solomon sighed, he recalls his old friend, how his Spirit was awoken by that sweet aroma, that science can’t imitate, every time he got a scent of it. Reminded him of that Movie, Al all peace Pacino, scent of the blueberry, what a story that was, or was it strawberry, they smell great too, legal cause you can eat them I suppose, amen.

 

Davos and Divorce….

Is either good for us, at least a divorce can help you get out of an abusive relationship, even if the lawyers are the only ones left satisfied, the big smile, what can I do for you, ah, you’ve split up, lets see how we can divide the assets, I hope you have a good accountant too, Davos is a bit like the lawyer part, every year they discuss the well being of the world, the financial well being, no wonder they don’t invite Spiritual leaders, maybe next year, when they come to terms with divine intervention, the stuff they can’t control, and need help with, enough said about Davos. If money can be printed, it can’t be that bad, it’s just a case of who is printing the money, well, when you get into debt that is astronomical, no one is ever going to challenge you, unless you have not too much, then it’s safe to challenge you, the market won’ get upset, even Tigers need a balanced diet.

The oceans, acidic, the environment for children growing up, toxic, so many worthy topics, none of them financial, yet Davos persists, the welfare of the world, not ignoring the billion of so souls living with a disability as the journalist in the paper said, (don’t take credit for the efforts of others, it does not go down well in high places) well, does anything come as close as the welfare of our living environments.

Solomon was looking at the poster, he was in the old church, an Indian Prophesy, what happens when there is no space left to exploit, where do you stop, back track, and all the Davos community can talk about, the financial system, same as spoiled children with too many toys, immune from outside influence, until they have to live in it. Perhaps it’s old prophesy repeating itself, well, at least we have precedent to help us, and remind us too, Goliath, didn’t get the victory expected, the story of our times.

The thousands of fine lives stolen in their prime, cause they said stop, Solomon sighed, as the words came to him, he knew he was getting the help from above, and that was beyond understanding, In Davos, and many other places, amen. The men in Davos, seemed to be touting nationalism, in affect, seeking an effort to rehash the harm many of them already caused for opportunity purposes, well, if your busy as they say, ……

Flight of Destiny….. could be a diva’s dream….

 

 

The wings rise in union, the small creature is carrying a message, destiny calls, obstacles in the sky, the usual predators and obstacles, and the latest threats, the magnified air, the invisible microwaves, can send the radar spinning, little dove is one of many, that have set off before, it’s a journey across the world. Little heart, she recalls the day she was born, the shell cracked open, it wasn’t easy, she had to move around until it fell away. Interesting, you noticed everything around you, the beginning, your first breath of fresh air. Never did you imagine you’d be flying high up there, even if you were made for the journey, it’s a surprise every time, the lift and you’re airborne, no jet or exhaust fumes. Sally flaps her wings, a little slower than before, her tempo is slowing, it will soon be time to rest.  Rather than cross the ocean at the widest point, when the others didn’t return, it was decided you’d cross as much land, in case it was the water that caused their demise. You are trying to follow the map, but you found out early, that even the landmarks had changed, cities where there were towns, but some are still there. A church steeple or another holy place, the only places where you can find safe nights rest, clouds on the horizon too, rain, it only adds weight, normally it wouldn’t matter, but this was not a normal journey, the message you carry, has the key that will open the gates of Heaven. A couple is getting married, and your arrival at a certain perch will be a sign, then the book is revealed, the holy men and women will unite.

The rise in electronic masts, the waves, the frequencies they interfere with, is putting your navigation skills to the test, but your one of the last ones, they said you did not fly that fast, lucky for you, it is giving you time to circle problems rather than immerse in them. The wings are heavy, you have been flying a Lindbergh, non-stop for five hours, you need a rest. It’s essential, put the wings down and have a good eat.

There is no need to carry anything, otherwise, you don’t fly, one of the great secrets, you and your kind know too well. The way humans worry, there you are waiting to gather a few crumbs, the conversations you hear, when they are troubled help is sent to them, an army of flying helpers, everyone has a specific purpose. The mind is tired, and you need to stay focused, the old teachers words, the reason you and all you feathery creatures were created, at the time, perhaps too young, you thought it was an exaggeration, now, in this time of stress, what you thought was an excess, it holding you in shape, strange words you sigh, the ache on the wing is forgotten, you could fly for hours if you stayed in this frame of mind.

Haven’t been home in a year, what is taking so long, when you get there you will be on time, what sort of timetable is this, that’s what they said to you at the beginning, what planning, you can never lose, then you remember the month you spent in the sun, unplanned, but you were having doubts, and the company was great.  Fresh homegrown bread with lots of grains every morning, berries and all sorts of fruit, some you only heard of, served to you every morning by the gentle mullah, while there was a war going on in all directions, maybe it was wise to stay when you did. Two weeks at the monastery, they treated you as if you were a royal guest, boy did you live it up that fortnight and put on a couple of ounces you had to shed before you were able to take flight. There, you spot the steeple, the head changes, you turn the flaps on your wing, you do a recognisance, there could be a hidden mast, and that’s an experience you don’t want to repeat, sent you off course for five hundred miles, your lower in the sky, you do a second pass, nothing dangerous, it’s a real monastery, not one of those private homes, it’s safe to land.  Some damn map you say.

 

 

She wakes from her dream, her first interview today, a young aspiring actor, she has a big heart, wants to play those roles that inspire, give heart, if only she can overcome those obstacles. Her bedroom door opens, her breakfast, eggs benedict, her eyes lift, just the start I needed……what a dream, imagine being a little white dove, do you know what that means….

Why Me Lord…..

The question, the tragedy, the answers, no one can provide them, why me Lord, about to face death, bodies on bodies, children, men, women, stacked in heaps, she looks at the human misery, she is about to join them, has prayed all her life, a shot rings out, will someone pass the ketchup please, she falls, lies among the dead. her Spirit leaves her body, joins the world of eternity.  Years later, those trying to undermine Love, damage trust, trying to create the desire for only earthly things, thereby undermining the well being of Spirit and our connection with the world above, speak out in protest, why her Lord.

God sighs, I’m not an arms manufacturer, free will was your gift, it wasn’t forced on you, I sent along prophets, to remind you, there is light and dark, even child birth is painful. The critic replies, but why so many, how was it allowed to happen. Experience, is the father and mother of wisdom, when it hurts we remember, when it’s pure pleasure we want it more, it’s not black and white, and everyone living is playing a vital role. You want to enter Heaven, nice words, but it requires an effort, and that’s what your life is all about, making it there.

The critic shakes his head, damn good answer, how about the movements for change, why so many of them, why such chaos out there, God shakes his head, a critic, what else would you expect. The talk as if they know, when all they do is study something small, and try to apply it, how often has that error been made. I made you stubborn for a reason, and if you read the old scriptures, you will work it out. You think this world is a free ride, nice idea son, just remember, one day you will all have to hand it back. Amen.

Old Too Young

Bullies the older ones, gets away with it too, knows how to use words, can use past hurts, has no emotions whatsoever, has been beaten when young, imagines this is the way to get along, it’s the law of the jungle his father said, you have to be tough he said, he was in the middle of a little light refreshment, the belt in his hands, he was counting the welts on his small son’s back, never forget he shouts, the boy is afraid to cry, you get hit for that, he waits for his father to stop, then it will be happy faces again. The day is forgotten, the next day, he is in the play ground, there is an argument, it’s only a matter of time, before he puts his skills to the test, if he gets thrown out of school, he’ll get a reward when he gets home, well, his brother got his first bottle of vodka for the achievement, too old, his eyes are slanted, they are not wide open and wondering, there is no awe, it’s a case of what is there for me, that’s all, old too young.

Solomon sighed, the season of Christmas, the well being of Spirit, the time when the welfare of others ring the bells inside. He watched the Child, the eyes half closed, no excitement in them, they weren’t dashing here and there, instead, there was something cold, he wondered, when you see a face, you see the life, when you see it in one so young, there can’t be many doubts, old too young.

Young mother has committed herself to a life time relationship, much too young to make such a commitment, she has a child now, one on the way, he regularly beats her, well, he is passing it on, there is a life and this is the way, she is not looking forward to Christmas, no violence is all she wants and a few toys for the child, and the hope her children escape the misery that her life has become. Much too young, afraid of violence, can’t open her mouth, suffers depression, a never ending circle. Solomon sighed, once it goes in writing, it goes places, and then the good stuff happens, he’d seen it happen so often, just paint it with words, amen.