Talking Sense

Where are all those campaigners gone. There were voices making noise every second day of the week, outing this person and that, while the media rowed in behind, taking advantage of the opportunity, that shaming begets, and it’s lure for the imagination. Where are all the voices gone, they jump on the bandwagon of the latest campaign, make loaded speeches, race after celebrities to get them involved, where have they all disappeared to.

Jesus said, if you acknowledge me in public, the angels in Heaven will do the same before My father.

There was a strong case of hypocrisy going on across the world, more damaging than the Virus itself. Many of the so called in people, were silent in times of great emotional need. Solomon wasn’t pointing, but he recalled story after story, of many on waiting lists for all forms of health related treatments for years, cancer victims having to wait, women and children unable to find shelter from domestic tyranny, and a whole list of other causes, that could easily have been solved, with a more charitable disposition from those with great wealth, and others. It was time to call them out. The signs from above should be waking them up, at least on the conscience level. Are all lawyers and most people, the way John Grisham portrays them, all about themselves.

Treasure Box

 

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Sea Rescue

Hold on, don’t loose your faith, help will come. How those who struggle to survive hold it together, the stress each day, the hours of labor that bear so little fruit. From afar we read these stories, some of us wonder, some of us pray, some do something extra, the needs of others push us to extra lengths that we would not ever dare to tread. Struggles, the mother sighs, she is brow beaten, her little daughter looks on, knows her mother struggles, vows to do all she can do assist as she gets older, doing housework is all she can muster now, it’s her Mother after all. She watches while those without care pass by all day, the dress, the confident eyes, how they look down on her, it’s all stored inside. We need inspiration to hold on.

The news that two young women survived a trauma that was dangerous to say the least was uplifting for many who heard the news, and it was of course fishermen who came to the rescue at the death. Solomon sighed, there are those who are under the stress of the virus, and the warnings, while those who have had the means, just read about it. Nothing knew here, the gap between the least and the most is a ravine few will ever fill in, and those with that we call real power, will read reports from experts, and act on them, those who have a bit of a conscience will, hopefully more will recognize the signs. In this time of great trauma, there is the Spirit of God, it’s pouring out across the world, hang on, put your faith in the fisherman.

Solomon encountered the Spirit that brings great gifts, heaven sent, but as with all gifts, it requires a little sharing. when you have real proof of divine intervention, there is no human force that can ever overcome it, read the pro

phets, amen.

Saint Patrick, an ode to Yeats, Behan, Oscar wilde, and a host of others, the sages of the past…..

 

This is pulled from the archive, it’s the National day of Ireland, so in these times of trial, lets reminded ourselves all, of the struggles we have all got through….

 

The world is beautiful, Have you ever thought about it, the world that is, is it not beautiful in places. We call those places national parks, so many miles of ocean across all frontiers, touching each other in special places the way the sun used to be, and still is in those extra special spaces, now we get burned frozen or flooded instead, except of course for those special places, and the bank manager we wish him dead, the women and their faces we can’t stop looking, the hours spent grooming their façade well look at TV no frowns allowed can’t you tell, a little perfume on the hips lipstick on the lips, as mothers seek safe refuge to build a nest as well, then an heirloom arrives the result of love so they said, children of course keep on watching and waiting, it’s a show they’ve already heard, Disney shows written by old pro’s words they use children in the viewfinder, they used to call it inspiration, today they ration the dead, literally and bury them live on TV, I won the lottery the dredge is no more, no smart opinions to get high on, pure doesn’t give you headaches, it kills you instead, don’t tell Santa he said.
But it’s a pity really, having tossed so much of our future away, the consequence of pure greed that the poorest will pay for instead, they’ve cut back the bird crumbs this week I heard, poor crow, shot at three times dived bombed by a sparrow hawk, a busted wing he hung on, two miles up the road and he’d be fed, earthquake on the TV, the world is falling apart, live on TV of course, you’ve guessed it CNN they are the first to call to help, world latches on cameras roll on carelessly, footage is worth more when you’re dead, no point saving the sick across the world, cant get them together like a Spielberg movie, we’ll rely on old footage. Isn’t the world beautiful he said, the luck of the Irish they always said it was worth waiting for, amen. He said if they gave up the drink, shur they could do anything, well…

Big Reputation

What others think of me, that’s all that matters, God Most High listens, to the inner ramblings of the mind, with the assistance of wisdom, who can read everybody. Bling, flesh, a Brazilian,  nice lines, an inner drive, an energy that needs to get out, high octane. Bob Dylan cringes, why can’t I write those words, another screams, wish I could have stole them, words.

The arena is empty, the tour is on hold, the cocaine has to be paid for, no surprise, the big dealers are inn trouble, the market has dried up, and those further up the chain, doing a clean up, no customers to supply, courtesy of the Virus, how Ironic, what is invisible, has such a weighty influence, how strange is that, and the churches closing their doors, what are they doing, to the reputation of God, well, what is faith, amen.

Dot Dot Dot…

The unseen becomes life, the unseen causes death, as for Faith, it’s an invisible gift. Solomon was reading the ancient scriptures, the story of the mustard seed, and how Jesus told his apostles; all you need is a faith the size of a mustard seed, the smallest of all seeds, and when you have that faith, anything is possible. In the context of today, the worry over the corona virus, and how what is invisible to the eye, and impossible to see unless under the microscope, can be so lethal, it only reinforces the power in those original words, as spoken. Faith depends on deeds of course, as without them, your faith is mere words.

Solomon was reflecting on how the smallest bits in creation have such a huge impact on our lives; the story of the bee one more example, the plankton that the huge whales depend upon; in a nutshell what is tiny can be both life saving and life destroying; perhaps it’s another reference to the delicate nature of the Spirit, and how easily it is disturbed.

life begins from the tiniest of sources, yet carries with it the experience of other generations, as the habits molded

their in, reflect so much of life in the past; how it is possible. Then to compare with human folly; how so many boast of what is common and meaningless; amen.

Seeking Perfection

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.

Journey of a Soul…

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.

An Irish Legend…Gay Byrne

Considering the world is going green, and green is the shoot that pops from the dirt, fills us with tidings of new life, It’s good to recall those that set the stage of change and encouraged understanding during their lives. Solomon heard the news, a favorite of the nation had passed on, and there is rejoicing in the Heavens to go with it, as another soul makes the grade and enters into the eternal life, so many assume so, and why not.

It’s not often you meet with those who calmly encourage change and give opportunity to those who have a different voice, thereby enlightening people, especially at a time, when there was so much inner control asserted by  a very dominant organisation. Mr Gabriel Byrne was one such man, not the actor but the TV presenter.

Two hours of chat on a Friday night, the attention of the nation, no malice or spite, he opened the doors for many artists, and continued to do so all his life, he didn’t allow religious indoctrination to control the output of his show, and was always encouraging the well being and kindness, that so many try to encourage today. A man  head of his time, he allowed diversity to grow and hearts to widen, gave a platform for many to explain themselves, and wasn’t afraid to take a chance. Staid he was not.

Compare the fortunes of those organisations that attempt to control the lives and habits of others, they usually end in failure when their is no compassion in them, amen.

A man of God he will always be, Gay Byrne, rest in peace, amen.

 

2019

A hundred years of a plague, an unstoppable flu, it happened, not your imagination, the history of the dark ages, Popes far from holy, removed from the teaching of Christ Jesus, dearth of loving Spirit, demons, and then the recovery, the reformation, the renaissance, Leonardo Da Vincii

, others, don’t be alarmed, it’s true, Michelangelo, and a host of great artists, commissioned, to resurrect the reputation of The Holy Roman Church, and to inspire faith in God Most High.

Do we raise the Spirit today, when we ask, have we done what we said we would, or is it wishful thinking? Is it the old thinking, we will get away with it, is that the message we send out, are we chancers, great pretend artists, hoping to get away with it, hiding our own stuff, then pointing elsewhere, do you assume you can fool God, because you got away with it for so long, are you impressed when someone with clerical power tells you your fine, as if it’s an absolution, didn’t they say the same all those years ago.

Why is God called merciful, Patient and enduring, do some assume more of the old will suffice, do they assume God is silly, history tells us otherwise, don’t be alarmed, but it’s better to play cards with all the deck in play, at least you have a decent chance, how many lives have been stolen by under the table ways, do you assume it’s wise to undermine Spirit, you can’t possibly assume it will be allowed to go on, and as the Spirit strengthens, the words of the prophets  sharpen and seriously accurate, it’s not written to fool anyone, it’s written to enlighten, the numbers, Moses and the desert, Ezra and the trumpet, Noah and the boat, the warnings of Jesus, do you all assume it’s wild talk.

Do church people assume a safety net, it’s deeds it’s actions that denote you, cover ups fine, will admiring the objects on the mantel piece give you any comfort when you face your last days, will you admire them and smile, and say, they are mine, what good is it, they will be someone else’s as soon as your gone, like a door that closes, gone, and when you realize it, will all those great ideas mean anything if all they did, was stay in your head, every race has a conclusion, and it’s 2,120 years since the time of Jesus, Spirit in the form of a man, 2,800 years since Ezra.

Romeo and the Rules

Love lost and found, Milton, the bard of Avon, the dangerous journeys, the stories written into our histories, the impossible victories, the great rescues, Samson, and his last act, David over coming the odds, there is much to remind us of the highs and lows we face everyday, and so much encouragement, did they really do that.

A mother sets out with a boat load of strangers, a flimsy craft that would not qualify for insurance, the worries she feels by passed by the freedom she hopes to find. West side story, he is not good enough, she comes from a broken home, the strange ways we are instructed in wisdom. Then the faith barriers, the rules of the organisation, how we prepare for prayer, what we eat, who we see, how we engage with others, will he change his religion, it used to be a catholic protestant thing, how will they raise the children, the Indian girl who falls in love with the boy from the wrong caste, the oaths that are taken to satisfy religious practice.

There are so many barriers to love, arrangements we have to follow, until the word expands, and understanding of the meaning of love explodes, when there is finally change. So many rules, lessons, when love does not own anything at all, yet the plans we make to control it, something we don’t even own or can ever own.

Solomon had friends from many faiths, and the faith never got in the way,  not in his mind; as he said to a fellow believer; we don’t do it all the same, same as the flowers in the garden, but at our core, we have the same engine, there is one God, and love feels the same, it’s the barriers we put in the way that defines us. Romeo didn’t follow the rules.