Geoffrey Chaucer was possibly born in 1342/43 in London, but then again, no one can be certain, and died October 25th, 1400, in London, and received the singular honour at the time, of a commoner being buried in Westminster Abbey. He was the outstanding English poet before Shakespeare, and has always been described as “the […]
REASON IS HOLDEN FABLE — Marlovian
She has shoes with holes, it’s raining, the toes squelch, she can hear the noise, she walks even slower, she is embarrassed, doesn’t want her friends to know. A dry table, a place to sit, a cup of tea or coffee, a few minutes to sip,
to rest, to feel normal, is like seeking perfection. Her home is now a dorm, her needs are met, you could call her lucky, her doctor tells her she is all right. A little mental instability, it spiraled, she lost control in a rage, picked up a bottle, lost her home, an apartment, when they sent her to jail. Lucky girl, it was one of those modern facilities; a case of a little business, when the Government farmed out the prison service, how you farm out care, is one of those mysteries, in a world seeking perfection. $$$$
Solomon read the old story tellers lament; the lack of literacy, and the inherent problems that it causes, and how its’ revealed in the prison population. No one cares said the old sage, it’s been like this for ages and gets worse as time lengthens. So many worry about the perfect smile, are the teeth straight, how can I get my lips to pout, do you think it would be better with highlights, the hair, do I really need a second face lift; choices.
It’s how you spend your time; seeking perfection, its’ the eye of the worrier, amen.
We have been given the opportunity to create the world we always wanted, we always had,
it’s real and there is no escaping it. The window is open, the stars have come, the Holy Spirit too, the reality can’t be ignored, it’s purely a love thing, has been moving across the earth, infecting people with Love, the lasting type, it’s down to you and me, amen. Do we run stay build or pretend, it’s coming to that moment, action station, opportunity that can’t be ignored, too immense, potential to give life, heal, heavenly assistance guaranteed, amen.
Solomon sighed, the headlines were dark, fires in some places, rebellions, it reminded him of ancient writings, the revelations of the prophets. No panic he sighed, these things are meant to happen, reminding us, there is God Most High, and there is the material world, it’s a matter of choosing. Trust in God, how easy to write such simple words, how difficult at times, to live by them. Times of great change, point to a new world, a testing period for God’s people. In the circumstance, Solomon expected every effort to be made, in order to increase the flow of Loving Spirit. Like the picture with the post, it’s real.
A clean cloth, unused, begins the process, of gathering and cleaning, the beginning is easy, nothing too hard, nothing you can’t deal with. You age, the experience gets wider, you accumulate, the lessons learned, your influences grow, the first test, a scenario, you have a choice, you make one, you move on. The intentions climb, the risks increase, the safety zone is not as wide, it’s getting more pointed, you have to decide, there is a future in store for you. Male or female, its not the same, there are different routes, some coalesce, you find your plateau, the foundations for the next course of life, you are a pyramid, and reaching for the point, why do I exist.
Teachers and influences, who we learn from, Solomon was remarking on an old friendship, the day being a reminder, how lives are molded. There were streams of positive influence, many of them, seen in the efforts of those, who live in them, the reasons, mainly the way people are taught. Some lives lead us to be compassionate, some lead us to be utterly selfish.
We are celebrating the Spirit of God on earth, we are giving presents on account of it, we are not commercial minded, we are bargain conscious. The soul stops, remembers a good deed, wants to acknowledge it, purchase is made.
Year pass by, the soul is in a home, not as dainty as they used to be, but still there. What have I done with my life, the answers soon appear, when the Children arrive, and they do it again and again, all year round. Solomon smiled, a lot of people buying gifts, hope in many eyes, some seeking release from a family grievance, some seeking peace for the heart, all of them guardians of the earth, so you’d hope, for the soul knows that the body is the tenant of the other. Four lives in one small space, four souls seeking it’s place.
The yeast in the mixture, the smile on your face, could it be that easy you ask. The glance across the office, that says it’s okay, we got over it, you can approach me and ask, the fear that is dismissed with eye contact, what’s the worry, the sincere expression that cannot be faked, when it’s real its’ real. the role of every life, Spirit raising, assumes that there is somebody more important that yourself in the room. The child comes home, the shoulders are shrunk, the child is worried, the mother knows immediately, what’s wrong she says, the child is not afraid, he slowly tells the story, in a minute he is feeling all right.
Imagine, Solomon sighed, it was a hard emotion, the small friend who can’t explain it, the fear that his phone hides, the worries of the bigger ones, the fear that is trapped and can’t get out. Solomon was sending the reminder to himself, those who were left behind while those who built themselves kingdoms thought it was all right. the toe rag mentality was a mind set of those of arrogant disposition, he had encountered them regularly, so he warned them about the Spirit, well, it was possibly the best news possible since the days of old, God is real, I have seen the Spirit, watch this space, amen.
Solomon smiled, it was passing on the Spirit, it was just an every day thing, no idols, amen.
Daisy D gone to the world above, your kindness towards others inspired so many, Old Amo, your wisdom is still is use, that Spirit is alive too, Gerry W, you were so kind and patient, they all still miss you, enjoyed the wine and the banter, never a cross word, calm in a storm, there are few like you, Miss Philomena, you were the most active of angels, like your Father before you, and to all the others, so many great souls have passed to the world above, a harvest of goodness followed them. Being in the zone, Solomon was calling on the Great Spirit, the Father of Heaven and Earth, remember those who fell in your service, the Spirit you filled them with, is badly needed again on earth, the voices are calling out, Amen.
Solomon sighed, his prayers got heard, so why not ask, put in the request, you will get a fair old hearing. He asked for help, did what many considered impossible, if only he sighed, they had seen the Invisible. Don’t put a limit on your heart, use it. What good is all the tomorrows, when today is the only day that matters.
He sighed, his little friend, and all the children under threat, were getting help from the only source the demon feared, and that was music to his ears.
Ma, why are they always fighting, they claim to believe in Jesus, God, The angels, and they hold bibles and holy books in their hands, I don’t understand it, Ma is at the table making a cake, she is taking a fistful of white dusty stuff, flour I suppose, she puts her hand into a big bag and extracts a white load, white stuff spatters everywhere. Ma, why don’t you use a measuring scales, how do you know there is enough?. Ma smiles, what a bright child, always asking children, just as she reared them. If you don’t know something, open your mouth and say it, wise advice for any mother or father.
Ma is a dab hand at baking, she can do it in her sleep, and she always gets them right, her cakes famous all over the world, even some leading members of the country have enjoyed her cooking. Ma, why are they always fighting, I don’t understand it says the little girl, who is reading her book at a side table, while watching her Ma put the ingredients together. She wonders how ma gets it right, she doesn’t use scales, dips her finger in the baking powder, a pinch of salt, a splatter of eggs, a whisk around, a grease proof sheet, a flat pan, and an hour later, a Swiss roll, so darn easy. How does Ma do it. she listens to her Ma, always has.
Ma bends, slides the baking tray into the hot over, then begins the clean up. You want me to help, asks the little girl. Put on an apron first says Ma,
I don’t want you messing yourself. The little girl takes the drying cloth, ready for the wets ma will soon supply.
Why are they always fighting Ma?. Ma sighs, she has let the question sink in, as she dips her hands into her own sink of dirty dishes. It’s important not to sell propaganda to Children. Ma knows the little girl will believe her when she answers her. Ma has seen the religious networks favor their own, has seen the harm they caused, by not listening to each other, always ready to believe the very worst, then passing it on, poisoning children and minds, creating division, when reaching out and listening, as Jesus said, was the answer.
Little girl she says, you are young, there is a lot to learn. I haven’t got the answer to your question, but I fully understand. The little girl is surprised at Ma, she usually has the answer to everything, she is also in awe of her own questioning attitude, this she has just learned. The little girl continues to dry the dishes, thinking to herself, Ma doesn’t have the answer to everything, somethings she has to learn for herself, amen.
The dishes are washed and put away, the kitchen counter is clean, as it was before they started, ready for the evening meal. Ma, the little girl asks, she is in a very inquisitive mood, are there other questions Ma doesn’t know. Children love to learn. Getting addicted to machines and online stuff is not the stuff they were born with. Ma, why is there so much of the man and woman stuff on the internet, you know, the child lowers her eyes, you know what I am saying, the mother coughs, this is not the question she expected. How do you explain to the child, the interest in all things adult, how do you answer that.
You will have to ask men and women is what she wants to say, but she defers, the little girl is too young for that.
In company, not calm, seeking attention, stealing from yours, the well being of Spirit, and the efforts some make to interfere, mine, that damned word that is a killer, it’s no longer yours, how does it make you feel when you hear those words, could be a love you considered yours, well, the heart is punched with holes, same as the surface of the moon, it gets tough, don’t put your trust in Love, the hassle it causes, and the way you feel afterwards, damn those who try to interfere with the flow. Solomon sighed, he hoped people realized, gifts of the Spirit are for passing on, not hoarding, where did that habit come from, mine, my baby, my idea, my, oh my, mine, what a bummer of a word, all the grievance it causes.
Solomon was living in the same chaotic world, and the same challenges faced us all, there was the material Kings and the Spiritual guides, and there is a gulf between them, one reaches to the heavens, (Solomon has proof of this, pray wisely and include as many as you can, it works, when love soaked,), and there are those who want their way regardless, they assume everyone can be bought, and those who rely on Faith alone, the Spiritual, what a waste. When the flow is allowed, and allowed is the word, the amount of times he encountered those who would willingly in the face of divine intervention try to curb the instinct, surprising, when the flow is allowed to run freely, magic happens, same as words that come from a writer, the harmony that runs from a soul, the creativity of a child, there are hordes of examples, what happens when the kings of the material get their hands on it, they try to channel it, and it rolls on and usually dies, the original flow lost, or the reason for it’s being. What was that song, the words, the music, Eric Clapton, wisdom in song and rhythm, I’ll tag it to the blog he sighed, and help that flow along, amen.
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….
The tunnel is a metaphor, the journey, the struggle, danger, feeling trapped, relying on others for advice, a guide, decision making, dealing with fears, the sense of the unknown, and the outcome, enlightenment, getting there, the I’ve been waiting for it moment, then the light, and hopefully, being free. Imagine it, the caves built, to hide and find refuge in, to smuggle, or hide treasure, your not so sure what you are going for find down there.
A woman crosses into Israel, she is a refugee, needs urgent medical care, is not allowed access the normal way, restrictions, she has to find another way, she uses the underground. Dark Enemy, is building top secret weapon, doesn’t want the allies bombing the regular plant, builds network underground, we have all seen the movie. The tunnel, it has many interpretations, freedom seeking ,a hiding place, a prison, a journey.
When we get to the light, the other end, and we breath fresh air, the euphoria having made it, it was worth it, yes, it was a struggle, but we got there. You have an illness, its’ six months, could be six years of treatment ahead, it’s the tunnel again, it’s the struggle. The chemo you have to go through, the unknown, the experience of others, the guide of doctors and nurses, the support of family, spiritual guides, it all helps you get through the tunnel.
In olden times, Jesus told the early followers, its’ not going to be easy, you will struggle, there will be those trying to stop you, they will even hate you, as for demons, there will be plenty, but don’t ever forget, if you remain with me, you can’t fail, and besides, if I am not there in person, the Holy Spirit will come along, so don’t give up.
Solomon sighed, stepping into the tunnel, the first steps, at least there is one we know for certain, who will always be there, remain steadfast, you are never alone, and death is not the end. Being alone, that’s the darkest tunnel of all, when we actually believe we are.
paddypicasso 