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.

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Scream and Shout….

Do you love me, do you do, run faster Mr Murphy, the sargent is screaming at the new recruits, do you think this is christmas, this is war he shouts, many years later, the old marine recalls the training, the mental stress that was applied, the shouting, the taunts, the bear with us awhile, it will only make you stronger, the words ring bells in his head many years later.

Solomon sighed, spoilt for choice, bored, the excess’s they have to go to, as if they are children with too much free time and money to spend. He recalled the child, tensed up in the corner, eyes wondering, eyes deep in it’s head, as if all life had been taken away, the child does not understand the screams and the shouts, it sure wasn’t this in the beginning, it was sootihng he recalls, they were nice to him…but he is slowing getting used to it, and the Spirit inside is being battered. Meanwhile..

Conscientious mary is at a rally, something to do with christmas songs, and how inappropirate the lyrics of some, they have to be changed to suit the political thinking of the moment. It’s so important to attend the rally, you never know who you might meet afterwards, there might even be a party. Solomon raised his eyebrows to the headline, a christmas song of old, made references to a cold night, and a cosy meeting of a man and woman on a cold christmas night, song idiots decided there was a threat to humanity in the words, another notion of political mad thinking. In the old days, ancient days, language had many meanings, violence meant strength, virgin meant woman without child, and as for other sensibilities, you don’t have to dig.

His Father screams at him, go to bed, your not getting supper till you learn math…

Insider trader

The nod, the purchase, the shifting of profits, some obscure little Island few have reason to visit, an Island with no resources, other than the shelter it provides to ill gotten gains, and the avoidance of responsibility, thereby giving all that is wrong, comfort, rewarding all that needs changing. Smug politician, the money is off shore John, no one can touch it his finance helper says, yes, where do they learn such things. How can I get access to the cash he wonders, his financial helper smiles, his eyes open, he slides a credit card across the table, use it when your outside the country, it’s impossible to trace, big smile of the smug political face, you think of everything John, who wears a fat grin.

Why are we going to visit that place, his wife asks, he sighs, surprise darling, he hands her a precious gift, she is stuck for words, her heart sighs, he loves he still, she begins to cry, he soaks it up, an arm around the shoulder, they pass through the small town, a bank, then a long road of offices, she is admiring the gold bracelet, he loves me she thinks….

She provides children, a steady home place, doesn’t ask too many questions, and does what she is told, while he is the inside trader.. Solomon sighed, God Knows all too

well…The housing estate with no green area, the young Spirit sold out, a burden the insider trader will never understand, till it’s all too late, surprise

Mess Up for Heaven’s Sake

She is an addicted cleaner, she spots dirt, she blows a fuse, her temperature rises, it’s as if she has spotted a demon, out comes the chemical rescue, a squirt here and there, got ya she smiles, while killing anything organic nearby, will you leave me in peace he says, she has the brush under his feet, he is trying to watch TV. She doesn’t listen, this has been the way for years. Solomon sighed, those were the days, a memory that makes him laugh, it wasn’t anything to be shy about.

Being an educator, you can’t make a cake without creating a mess, same way you can’t teach a child without getting upset, difference is, what comes out of the oven. The boy is small, a learner, just imitates and wants to get on with life, pulls a chair to the sink, playing with water, everyone small loves it, the splash and the mess. Roll up your sleeves, the boy turns his head, will you shut up he says, there is a smile on his face,  i said roll up your sleeves, I don’t do laundry.

The mess continues, there is water on the floor, there is water everywhere, are you finished yet, the child is washing the dishes, placing them on the side, Solomon is watching carefully, doesn’t want the kid to slip, eventually, eventually, the wash up is done, it’s time to negotiate. The dinner is always a task, how do you get them to eat healthy, do you remember the wash up he says, the child nods, doesn’t notice the spoon in the air, open up, the boy opens his mouth, another mouthful gone.

Mess up for heaven’s sake, there is bargaining power in it, it’s not just mess, it’s real learning. The mothers look at Solomon, what do you know about feeding children, he sighs, there is a cake on the table, he reaches for it, not before you have eaten your dinner they say, i suppose.

Blocked

no new ideas, stuck, nothing fresh going on, got a habit that I hate, got a cat that shits a lot, man does that need cleaning up, blocked, I hope you don’t upset the cat. He pressed the button, the machine, it produced a rhythm, a beat, he put a few lyrics over it, adjusted the volume, played them low played them high, a bit like a lotto player, fancy word for a gamble, how he frame words, sounds better, compulsive deniers, when we don’t like the news, we turn it off, the head can only hold so much. Imagine it, the stuff the head has to hoard, the so called important stuff, the stuff going back years. Unless it’s the heart, why would it be important?

Will someone do the laundry!, everything is dirty…

Lessons in life, mother teaches her son, he is on his way to college, don’t forget to have clean clothes, she reminds him and reminds him, child is on overnight, mother’s first concern, cleanliness, doesn’t want to hear anything bad, you have to do the laundry, well, why does every mother and others, spend a little of their day, cleaning up. Too simple, so were the parables of Jesus, stories and lessons in one, a good movie, same as those Clint movies, dirty harry etc….

Eastwood that is, lessons in life, and if they are entertaining, all the better, they will get our attention and are more likely to stay in our heads, longer than mere facts.

Solomon was commenting on the wisdom of Jesus, and how simple he made things. He had a Spirit inside him that cut to the heart, his words literally pierced your insides. In the world of judgement’s, the analysis of a life, the juries getting heat, the newspapers are getting print, the spin experts getting heard, the machine of news runs and runs, they never run out of ink, till the eyes start to look elsewhere. In the meantime, they dig up corpses to grab your attention, tossing the worst dressed excess at you, hoping to appeal to your inner sensitivity, well, to say you didn’t listen, is almost as bad as what was wrote, guilt rises, you have to have an opinion.

Surprisingly, if they don’t have a near by victim to pin the accusations on, they don’t bother to write about the issue at all. Well, say it as it should, and one day you will get to the truth, the real truth, not the abridged version.

Jesus stands in the square, the crowd gathers, blood is going to be spilled, the woman is tied to a post, bunches of rocks are gathered, ancient Jewish text says this is the applied punishment for adultery. The men in long beards are ready, the Pharisee is about to read a prayer before they rain down rocks on her, their Judgement in, mothers bring their daughters, just to warn them, this is the result of breaking the law, watch it girls. The woman who is judged, head down, waits for the first blow, then she feels a soft hand on her head, she looks up, meets a pair of compassionate eyes, eyes that don’t judge, they understand. He turns to the crowd, waiting for the game to start, his eyes scan the crowd, going face to face, inside they feel the power of the gaze, as the stuff they have been hiding comes to the surface. The conceited pharisee, who is about to give voice to the lords decree, as per the scriptures, feels angst inside, as his own guilt surfaces. Then Jesus asked,

“who here isn’t got dirty laundry somewhere, well, get on with it!”

Solomon imagined the great drama, Jesus on his knees, his finger writing in the sand, then wiping the words away, as if he had come to bring light to the words of God, by wiping the teaching of men from the minds of all. Well….

Diary of a Friend

You don’t have to mind your words, you can stand on each others toes, say what is on your mind, and be what you are. In the real time world, where spin is the order of the day, how often to we have full on straight conversations, unsure uncertain do I sound all right, challenged you can’t handle that, then you encounter a friend, not a stranger you will never meet again, I never knew you loved cold potatoes, the stuff you can say, the openness of the heart and the flow, the same as a good tune that rolls across your head, the head bobs the face slides the beat goes on, that’s how real friendship grows.

Solomon sighed, an old friend, not too well, haggard at times and getting to the end of the journey, they meet in a place where the elderly live, there isn’t much life apart from the care, and if you have a working mind it can get very tough, the inability to express yourself fully, the nods and the sighs as you try to be polite and not offend. Well, Solomon caught the manual and threw it out of the window, started shooting from the hip and saw the Spirit in the room light up. In the company of a friend, isn’t that the way it ought to be.

She hears the car in the drive, checks the watch, where was he as this hour, she is going to check for the signs, a fresh perfume, hairs on his collar, the look in his eye, she braces herself. The door opens, he is wearing a big smile, and has a bunch of flowers in his hand, for you dear love he says, have you been crying he says, with deep concern when he see hers…

When trust is gone, it leaves a tragedy behind.