Davos

Well, if you are conferred with a talent, there has to be a divine purpose, if you are challenged and you overcome it, it has to strengthen you, and if it happens again, just remind yourself, the Greatest ever born reminded us regularly in so many ways, who Himself was tempted with global authority, what an ego trip, but imagine the power to say no to that, there has to be a rather great reason for it.

Trapped, a word that infers some form of detention, or something to fear, you have to go beyond the normal limits of human thought to imagine the why in all of this, potentially the same can happen any of us, we can become prisoners of the ego, whereby, we cut ourselves off from divine help, does that sound reasonable, well, it explains an awful lot of the mystery, the shepherds became jailers, and sheep became chattels, possession became the law, antagonism becomes rampant, leaving us, the same as sheep without a guarding shepherd, and in real terms, dislocated from Heaven, and all that power and wonder.

Now that that dream is on the Horizon again, and not a pep talk, or a wish, nor a maybe, but real, you can understand the reason for so many positive changes in so short a time span. Fear drives the Spirit inside you, sends it into hiding, amen.

When the Fear is overcome by Spirit, you being to renew.

Head Dress

Don’t we catch ourselves out so easily, the dogma that ties us up in chains, all that is learned, the regulations, how we survive, by gathering up a list of stuff we have to adopt our lives too, so darn predictable. Behind the veil, there is a Spirit, a person, same as in olden times, before divorce and the microwave, changed the way we do things, no need to be worried if you are late for dinner, stick it in the oven, as for divorce, it’s common, it’s just an agreement between lawyers.

The Spirit has to live, it has to breathe, it has to move about, it’s the same as a stream of water, it has to flow. She had bright ideas, but they told her it wasn’t her place to have an opinion, she persists, this is my life, so she is a warrior, she has been chosen for a task, there is so much of the Spirit inside. Slowly and slowly, the Spirit deadens, the mind becomes unbalanced, she is trying to Hold her Spirit. Young man wants to serve God, the teaching authorities decide that you have to lose yourself before you can be programmed to their way of thinking, so it’s seven years before you make an exit from the seminary, when all that is in your head, is what is called foundation, whatever that is supposed to mean.

Solomon wondered at the daily ways souls try to make contact with their divine helpers, the Spirit, the little habits we store inside us, the candle, the little routines we try to build into our busy lives. A thousand thoughts a second are permeating the air, the natural electric charge is heightened, it’s not the same air either, and the growth of stress is approaching epidemic levels, who doesn’t feel the stress, the child in school has got more than textbooks to understand, there is the new social environment as well, it’s pretty heady.

She sits in her room, the head dress is off, she looks at herself in the mirror, tries to re assure herself, she is on medication because she is Spirited, not for any other reason. In the bad old days, they sent them to the Gulag, for retraining, as it’s called, she is well aware, hang on she tells herself, the helper always arrives. Finding the space, is this what the homeless teach us everyday, are they teaching us more, amen.

Breakfast Feast

I’m hungry, she is tired of hearing those words, she is a mile from the white house, roaming the streets of the most powerful city in the world, she is not alone. Downtown, they pour over dishes their lobbyists pay for, while the shelters turn people away. They have eyes but can’t see, is there a message in that, they wont attend a meeting either unless they get paid expenses. I’m hungry he says again, she feels the change in her pocket, soon she says.

Solomon sighed, a deep heart felt sigh, the love connects the light shines, the words of Jesus are made real; allow God to reside inside you and transform your life, it’s that simple.

She gets a seat in a side cafe, it’s Irish owned, the manager is an Irish Emigrant woman, she serves the biggest breakfasts in town. From the counter she watches the eyes of the small one, how he watches the tray laden with food for another table pass close by. His eyes widen, a little hopeful smile appears, i’ll be having that soon. Her heart breaks each time she see’s that expression on a small face, hoping. As for the loud mouth campaigners, they make the noise and then hide behind their private gates; do they say such words of thoughtfulness just to antagonize us all. Mary is practical; hunger can’t wait. if only one of them.. if only one had the courage of their words, some day, some day she hopes.

Leonard Cohen, We miss your songs

 

As reliable as the autumn rains, he maintained his skills to the very end, poured out wisdom the only way he could, used words to stir us to action, and was soul filled, inspired so much thought, opened many closed hearts.

It is October, the season of winter approaches as we prepare for it, the clothes have changed, we wrap up tighter, there is stuff we have to do, how nature teaches us, we mind Mother Nature she keeps everything in order, we have to remind ourselves, while there are 24 hours in a day, and so many days in a year, in truth, from the moment you woke this morning, did you sleep well, whatever, in this 24/7 world so many chatter about, the strong able to take advantage of the weary and the naive, after all the future plans and schemes, is there anything but a day, in every life. Slow down, the bear needs to hibernate, the butterfly is getting ready in the husk, in a few months time it will make it’s debut, all this preparation for the changing days ahead, is it not time we listened to nature, without worrying, it’s only a day after all. Thanks Leonard, for all the evenings to filled my mind with calm, amen.

Outside World

 

He closes the door, the walk isn’t too far, he wants a cigarette, a fix in the morning a bite in the afternoon, a few cans in the middle, and by four he will be out of it again, outside the world. She will pass by him and shrug, he is on a bench outside the church, lifting her eyes to heaven, she remarks

, did you see the like of that, alcohol drenched sloshed in front of your church, no respect she mutters beneath her breath. He eyes her as she passes; would she ever throw a few coins, has she any heart at all. She can hear his thoughts, his eyes stab her like daggers, in the back. All he does is drink it, she ignores him and walks on.

Mrs O’Neill says the cashier, she is inside the women’s fashion shop, everywhere, it’s spotless and shiny, she is there to try the new dress, there is a wedding coming up. It’s awful what you see on the street these days remarks Mrs O’Neill, referring to the drunk slumped over the bench down by the church. The attendant ignores the remark. A half hour later, Larry is slouched completely, lying motionless on the pavement now. In sleep land, he does not notice Mrs O’Neill as she passes; the smell of alcohol and that other smell, have they no respect she says.

Solomon heard two women in conversation, the sight of alcohol soaked bodies hanging around the sanctuary is too much for them, they have to speak up. What the children are exposed to one of them says. Solomon smiled, God works in wondrous ways, giving us tips, and angels come in all sorts of guises, many times just warning us all, of the outside worlds.

How Many Victims do you Need?

Solomon sighed, the dream, the frenzy, the fear, the blood hatred in the eyes of those seeking justice, the lengths they were willing to go, they wanted their victim, they sought blood. Was this a re telling of the Great Play, by William, The Merchant of Venice, how our desire for so called justice blinds the light inside us.  It was dream time, and he was sharing the worries of another, a young relation of a war victim, as everyone who partakes in war are victims, the winners and the losers, what are they left with; the fields of Vietnam, the concentration camps of world war two, so many victims. Solomon reflected on how the values of an older generation were side lined, as a more modern minded, justice now mind set, took over the leadership of many flocks, and how they used past hatreds to corral the flock into action. None of them held memorials for the millions of children, abused indirectly over the internet, having to digest what few of us could escape unharmed from. How many lives had ended, when the posse was in pursuit, Jesus among them, the thirst for justice becoming a drug as the mob got larger and larger. Revelation sighed Solomon, they might not listen to the words of the Prophets, but they did react to revelation, knowing their day for their judgement could arrive any given day.

Solomon smiled, he caught the dream, listened, saw the spotlight shine on the so called refugee, villain, the light shone for a minute, perhaps less, the mob now has a thirst, the chase over this time, they headed off in search of another. Father, Teach them he prayed. They try to raise the fears in others to justify themselves; and the harm they cause grows like a virus. Solomon say the signs, saw the Spirit, what a sight, and every day since, he was writing rescue remedies, with a lot of success.

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.