Lilliaoukalani

What a mouthful, she could sing all right, a timely reminder, she was the last Queen of Hawaii, before the islands coalesced with the U.S. She had a great bond with the Big Spirit, the divine spirit, same one Solomon encountered. as the volcano erupts, it’s wise to remind ourselves, we need to Love mother earth, an awful lot more than we do. Solomon sighed, the Spirit in the sky, and God Most High, the one true God, all connected, to Lilliaoukalani, just imagine it. The picture with this blog, clouds, appeared one day, in response to a prayer. So Solomon wondered, was the volcano a reminder of days gone by, and Lilliaoukalani, interesting.

Old Man Reading…

Sits in the same chair, been doing it for years, he’s reading that old book. They pass him, the grandchildren, they don’t want to engage with him, he’ll ask questions, he is boring, can’t run or walk, just an old man reading a very old book. They go out on the street, leaving the old man to the book.

A year later they are back in the house, the old man is still reading the book, picking through the threads, adding bits to the wisdom he has been pooling. They shrug, I told you, all he does is read that book, no one will believe it, he just reads it over. Across the street a painter works a mural.

Years later they are back at the house, he must be nearly a hundred, there, he is still reading that book, his eyes, how can he keep it up, they shrug, go out side, they catch up with old school friends, they are at university now, across the street they notice, Jesus, what a beautiful mural they say.

He struggles on his back, the temple is being repainted, the light is poor but there is day light left, he wants to finish it before his vacation, he adds a few strokes, eases back, takes a second look, the shade of blue is perfect, her eyes mirror the blue in her garment, giving it the divine affect.

They went out in pursuit of what was only going to last a moment, well, once consumed it’s gone, while what the old man pursued, was what was going to last for ever. Nice and easy does it every time. Solomon sighed, what’s the rush, time is plentiful, what were you going to fill it with, was what mattered, amen.

The Escape Route

She reached for the bourbon, drops two clicks into the glass, a few pills in her palm, she is used to them, taking them a long time, her head goes back, the tablets then the jack, she swallows hard, a good night sleep, she hasn’t had one of those in years. The TV is playing, the current offering does not suffice, she plays with the buttons like she was throwing dice. An old movie, she was young when they first saw it together, her eyes well up, the tears will flow, a combination of self pity, and love long lost. Years ago she had the chance, she chose the career over the chance, that love finally found her. Successful in all respects, the trappings are not a problem, the garden is perfect, does she give out about it, usually after a late night of booze, otherwise she is quite calm, till the night comes. She can build, she can encourage, she can motivate, but there is no escaping the hole in her heart.

Solomon sighed, Love has to be a flow, same way a plant can’t live in damp marshy soils, apart from a very few. In the world that attempted to own everything, including our genes, there was no ownership for love, only a responsibility for it’s safe delivery to the next. Many folks had troubles, everyone, some went deep, some went into despair, it was how you dealt with it, decided it all, the escape route. Building walls around your troubles, was only a delay.

 

Violence

There are rules teacher, these are the rules, Jesus looked at the assembly of men, the women were at home. They’d gathered to enforce their rules; she was deemed an adulterer, her punishment, death by stoning. Their rules sighed Jesus, will they ever learn the power of forgiveness. The rabbi (Mullah, Priest, observer) puts on a solemn face, when explaining what her crime was. Jesus listens, nods his head, while scanning the crowd. The stoning is about to begin. Bundles of rocks have been gathered; the woman weeps while tied to a post, awaiting the first missile. Her crime, their shame.

The law that inflicts violence, from human to human is not of God, it is of man. Jesus steps into the arena, puts up his hand, knows all about the gathering, knows their failings, knows that the Spirit gives him the power to touch hearts. When he asks them to continue if they are clean themselves, they walk away, till all there is left is the woman. He then dismisses her, Go away woman and don’t do it again.

Violence, the threat, and those that have that power, the way that they use it. He goes to the gym, is big, flexes his muscles, lets them all know, he has power. She is the married woman, waiting. Her husband learned it from the way his own father treated his mother, assumes its normal, violence. No one opens their mouths or disagrees in this house. How many religions were like that; people afraid to speak up in case they offend the powerful ones. Solomon wondered if they understood that the violent mentality, was a habit passed on. Jesus is urging them to forgive others, was saying in affect, this is what you have to do, unless you want hatred to continue, amen.

If many of the religious minded were actual believers, and so called followers of Jesus, wasn’t it time they adapted his ways then?

Re thinking – Understanding Islam a re blog.

The reasons to be interested in the current state of Islam cannot be fully numerated. It is one of the world’s largest faith traditions. It is intersecting with other major faith traditions. We need to learn about our Muslim neighbors for all kinds of reasons. Dynamics of Muslim Worlds is a sometimes technical look at Islam around […]

via Book Review: “Dynamics of Muslim Worlds” — J.W. Wartick -“Always Have a Reason”

The Vocation

He is lying across the bed, in his PJ’s, a side table, on it a new Glock, the equalizer as he calls it, since he took up his vocation,  a hit man for the mafia. He is pondering, it’s a few hours before the assignment; it shouldn’t a difficult, the target has no protection; he is just another noisy environmentalist, a planning artist, he objected to a new development that threatened the water supply in his town, a bit like JFK when he was slow to embrace war, he was in the way. Room service he sighs as he swings off the bed, and pats his way to the en suite. Professional, he always likes to look good, it also helps. Well dressed types rarely arouse suspicion till it’s too late. Over the years he has liquidated a few, his vocation as he calls it, the only spirit he needs, the cash fountain that gushes the same way the blood gushes from his victim, that’s his thrill, money.

The world of God, the times of Jesus all those years ago, spell a different thrill, and a bounty at the end, that is simply beyond belief, a world based on love empathy and sharing, where there is plenty, it requires Spirit of the loving kind, intangible, you can never own it, you have to pass it on, your responsible for it, a minder.

Solomon looked at the empty church; it was over a hundred years old. He wondered how many knees had knelt at the pews, the knees, the prayers said. Years before he saw the pictures, full houses everywhere, fifty years later, they are close to despair, half empty even on the busy days, vocation. What happened in the intervening period, to cause such a flow in the other direction; they forgot about the Spirit he supposed, and thought they were running a business.  He sighed, that is easy to fix, amen.

 

Old Man Christmas

The days close in on the main event, and the visitors are on their way, friends and relatives we haven’t seen for a while, including the “old man”, will be showing up. Last preparations, runs to the store, the gathering of wood, it is all getting prepared. I have met many, and many had met him, but it was the “old man”, who told the best stories. Every night over the Christmas period, he used to read us stories, from his head, the story of the turkey with the three heads, the most entertaining one of all. He had problems with his eyesight, didn’t know where to look!

What was the reason I remember the “old man”. why did others slip from memory, it was one of those questions that is not easy to answer, I suppose when you are small, it’s the great tales you recall as you get older, and the “old man”, well, he loved telling them. I realize now, many years older, and hopefully wiser, he was just passing the tradition on, a bit like Christmas itself, a reminder of other things, amen.

“and there was a slice of bacon for dinner and gravy if we were lucky!”

“did they do dessert?” asked siobhan, her face down

We would always fall asleep before the end. Isn’t that the great thing about a good story, it just lives on, with the help of the “old man”, of course.

The Great Flood

What’s great about a flood, every ancient and not so ancient generation, have experienced one, Solomon was being vague. You speak in riddles some say, he sighs, sometimes it easier than saying it straight, it’s less offensive for starters, but talk of floods, he experienced a few himself, and learned. The talk across the world was of the sexual disease that seemed to attack almost anyone with a semblance of power. A new story, another victim, another story, another and than another, to a point when it is all they can think of, sexual crimes. The last thing the world needed to hear, another victim, another big name hits the dirt, the press is foaming at the mouth, in newsrooms they glance at each other, what about bob, what about john, what about the 300,000,000 under tens with access to the adult web, the real flood they all ignored. It was simple math, the Spirit is a living heart, real living heart, and the young hearts carry the hope, they have soul, meanwhile, while the adults rage and tell their stories, this flood is ignored, as if it wasn’t happening. It is easy get distracted, and human nature was forgetful. 50 million die in the last great war, all of them victims, a flood of evil forgotten.

The demon and his ilk were glad to have the focus on the current imbalance, while the real flood continued unabated, as if there was nothing the could do about it. Solomon sighs, he wrote is a long time before, the simplest of solutions. Then a friend shows him the dark web as it it called, a zone off the main internet alley, where security allows anything to be traded, and it’s all legal, someone was fooling an awful lot of people. Say the prayer he sighed, it usually worked to halt the evil threat.

Don’t Blame Donald

The easy target, the big smile, the wealth, the power, the outspoken, the trouble with North Korea, the sexualization of the world, the permanence of God, where do we stand. We do not agree with what our parents tell us, we learn from experience, but one thing you can’t ignore, the lump under the carpet became a mountain, and now we have to deal with all of it. Some call it unfortunate, some call it a disgrace, tell that to the fish that swims in the dirty ocean, things have to change, don’t blame Donald, listen instead. 24 trillion off shore, banks using software to steal legally, one day is has to end, amen.