Give it Up

The car needs a service, he prefers to walk, she is worried about her weight, he says exercise will sort it out, she prefers the Gym, the choices. The amount of time we spend on stuff that we will soon forget. He had a dream, there was all the stuff you could possibly want, and the other end of the spectrum, a new car, low wheels, open top, warm weather, he is walking to the shop recalling the dream, spots the sign offering cheap car insurance, then he thought, if he had what the dream said, he wouldn’t be thinking that, rather, the garage, would it be big enough for the collection, or would he need a group policy, they probably do it cheaper for celebrities, the stuff that fills the head, red or blue, another detail he would have to  mull over. The ideas that we fill our heads with. Solomon recalled the parable of old, it’s your heart that matters most, even if you need a top up every so often. Easy to see the conflict though, between the Spirit and the material, the daily existence, amen.

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Unwinding The Story

Tension, the coach was writing the word on the blackboard, underlined it, three times, Tension he said again, the class all look up, the teacher is explaining the depths of story, and trying to sound like an expert. Who does get it, tension, the ups and downs, the circle of life. The want to be authors want to change their lives, their teachers wants to publish one best seller, tension, the rent check is due and there isn’t enough in the bank to cover it, tension, a half a per cent movement in the share price will cost us another fifty million, if only I could reach that far she says to herself, sitting in her assist chair, her arms not working from the shoulders down, to be able to reach an itch, tension, waiting for someone to come in the door, waiting for the surgery door to open, waiting for the man to return the form without more corrections, tension.

Tension, Solomon wondered what it would feel like to have some of your functions returned to you, by Gift of God, would there be tension in the body

, what would the stages be like, would it be the caterpillar unwinding, the egg shell breaking up, the head peering out, what would it feel like, would it be instant, instant, would your muscles need time to lengthen, you’d be stiff, the strength in your shoulders would need building up. He had in his mind some prayers being said, and many millions calling out, come help us Dear Father, and then imagining the response, what load fills the net, who benefits. So many take credit for stuff they have nothing to do with, and then try to persuade others to follow them. Solomon sighed, One God, the credit starts and ends there, no intermediaries, only those with good opinion who are heard. In a nutshell, those who go before us, lay the paving stones, lets hope they are well directed in the times ahead. The tension will always be there, exercise if your worried, amen.

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.

I just Growing up…

She sits in the chair, a little subdued, the medication, she sits while she waits, she is not so sturdy, they gave her a diagnosis, the memory disease, well, it’s an age thing. The limbs don’t have the same stretch, your energy isn’t what it was, the eyes not a clear as they used to be, the appetite too, not as appealing, getting old they said, Mable sighs, I am on a journey, I’m not giving up, I am growing up. A mind of her own, her own ideas, she didn’t beleive the blarney of men in charge, thanks rubbish, who filled them with such stuff, who. She fought her life seeking equality, now the journey has brought her to the care home, at the mercy of those she railed against, those that followed the rules. A nurse approaches, Mabel frowns, the pills, the last time she refused it, they sedated her a whole day, and gave her god knows what. I was just forgetting stuff, doesn’t everybody do that. How much do so many hide inside their heads. How those playing games would change the topic once the questions got testy. No one is allowed question the experts.

Solomon smiled, the story he heard on the radio, the lady with the mind disease, all she wanted, treated me as I am, it’s not your pity I want. Getting old sighed Solomon, we just want to be accepted. The story is never ending, it’s just a change in circumstances, one day you breath, the next your a bird, flying somewhere. Do birds worry when they wake, do they reach for the medication. Mabel, she is a living being in a fast changing world, so fast, the time to look after her is no longer left to relatives, the world so busy, it can hardly look after itself.

The weather, warm and sunny, no one rushing, the only que at the ice cream van, mabel recalls the days of old, how everything that a mother could do was done, same as it always was, by mothers across the world. There is a bitter taste in Mabels mouth, its’ not the tablets, its the story in the paper. The role of women, whitewashed from all circles of importance from the beginning of christianity, then copied by other religions, framing the mind set, bastards she sighs to herself.

Helen Keller Day

Happy Birthday Helen, it’s been awhile but the memory lives on, the deaf blind are not alone anymore, your name summons the help, it is how we can best remember her. They gather at the funeral, they have tears in their eyes, we will never forget you tears, then they forget you. Helen, you were a prophet, you changed the way many see disabilities, same way the earlier prophets aroused Interest in God, reminding them. We have gone astray, the light comes, then the memories return, we have another destiny, it’s greater than this world, Helen Keller, you remind us, thanks.

Lying in the bed, she is safe, the dark has no fear, she is on the same level, he holds her, she dreams, her troubles don’t exist when she is safe in his arms. Solomon sighed, that is what it is like, when in the presence of God, the presence of Love kills all fears. Then the day comes, and the reminders are there, what she would give to be safe in his arms. Solomon sighed, some names makes us feel good, Helen Keller does.

Preaching Man

Has them in the palm of his hands, his face scans the audience, senses the wonder, must choose his words carefully, wants to frighten them not embalm them. Power, what a thrill, they listen to the words, you mention the name Jesus, it’s almost a magnet, his words still stick 2,000 odd years later, Meanwhile the Preacher, he views his meal ticket before him, they come to him for advice, it’s beyond comprehension, they listen to me, he finishes the sermon with some fear filling words, fear only God he says. The adrenaline levels are up, he feels it the way a drug addict does. In the audience a real Prophet is listening, why do they have to use fear all the time, preaching man, it is so much simpler.  The Spirit rises on the basis of good deeds, and the Holy Spirit lives inside you, you just need space and an honest heart. The Preaching man has none of that, too addicted to control.

Solomon sighed, too much syrup in the diet turns you into a diabetic, you need to hear the truth, same as the words have to be from the Heart. Solomon wondered, why some made complex what is so simple to understand, amen.

Emeute, Civilizations and Victor Hugo….

You can have petty arguments that blow up into full scale revolutions, the harm you think your putting an end to, only to realize later the bigger hole you have built for yourself, thereby the merry go round of harm spins faster, the eye for an eye mentality that so many hold so dear, ends up destroying happiness and causing even more harm everywhere, the very goal you had when your started your emeute, as Victor Hugo would say, an end to it. Retaliate, how we hear those words, we have to avenge ourselves, we have to get even, we will lose face, how many wars were started with that mindset, nations and tribes emotionalized to the point of frenzy, while the voices of reason were drowned out.

Solomon sighed, it was refreshing to hear the comparative remarks of Donald Trump, who decided not to avenge the so called hurt caused in the Arabian Gulf, be it a blip, be it a bonfire started by a child, two tribes didn’t go to war, and reason was used, when the expected response didn’t occur. Emeute, struggles that can be solved without blood shed, you just have to listen.

Solomon was reading the literary classic of Victor Hugo, pages of rhythm, written 150 years ago, explaining how the world had to learn from it’s past. Many years later, after so many social changes, the core of the book, still holds. Hugo, Thanks for making the effort, amen. Having encountered the Spirit, Solomon had his own reasons for listening; we are under the Holy Radar, what a great feeling, amen.