Tyrants Anonymous meets..

The organizer, a three year old child, a little boy with a big heart. He heard a voice. Get them together, and tell them what you heard. The boy told his pals, we got God on our side, lets organize a meeting. So the first meeting of T.A was organized. Being organized by children, it attracted a most unusual crowd, what was the interest. They stretched around the corner, and ran for miles, the bullies.

The children look at each other, how are we going to deal with this lot. A tramp appears out of nowhere, I know where they are heading, a reversal of fortune, he says. The first will be last, the last will be first. That’s what Jesus said!.

Who are you the little kids said. I’m the overseer he replied. The children nod, That’s God or one of his close friends. You never know who you meet these days. Do Tyrants eat popcorn asked a voice, a young girl with entreprenerial skills. Well, we might as all well feed them, give them treats, before they have to visit that other place.

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.

Pure Rhythm

The stream of wisdom, a garden grows, reacts to sunshine, is automatic, it grows, sun, rain, moon, stars, the time of year, the cold, the frost, the fourseasons, the days go on for ever, add in the only additive that has a mind of it’s own, the image of man, and the great rhythm is altered. Imagine it, paradise in it’s early form, the animals, birds, everything as it should be, then the actions of the man and woman, it’s all yours says God, but I ask you not to eat from that tree, it has a special function. The enquiring child, the stubborn mind, out of sight, satiated, well it’s a dare almost, love is already toxic, it has to be shared, then the descent, till we get back to the basics, and try it again. It’s easy upset the rhythm.

In the world there were mind gamers; those who played with the minds, it was one time, a love game, then it becomes twisted, then it becomes corporation games, then the changes we would rather not think about. He imagines the garden, the addition of the chemical fertiliser, the death of the small insect, the distress of the bee, and how what once was beautiful, was slowly destroyed. Having encountered demonic minds, who play with minds, Solomon was sending up a prayer to his Heavenly Father, curb their intincts and plans, and let their schemes fall on top them. Enough words, that should do the trick, amen.

Prayers said in the Name of Jesus, the Holy One, are heard in the heavens above. Solomon had seen it so often, it was as if he was watching Jesus do it live, amen.

Need to Change things and you don’t know where to start, looking for the insight that will get you off your feet.. a re blog, but it’s worth it!

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Remember Neda

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Gun violence was in the news, the school children causing a riot, stirring up the temperature, putting themselves on the line, they can’t shoot children they thought. Neda, the young woman shot during the Iranian Revolution, it’s Easter, Solomon remembers.

The camera rolls while her life ebbs away, let the cameras’ roll, make my life count for something, she gasps reaching for air, knowing that very shortly she would be taking her last. Solomon imagines the last minutes of Jesus, the prisoners by his side asking questions, what sort of question would Neda have asked.

With her last few breaths, all she wants, is for the world to be aware of what is going on, the lives being stolen, the imprisonment of a nation, let the camera roll she says, then dies. So her spirit is taken up to Heaven, she meets old friends, deceased relatives, friends, then she spots Jesus, what would she say;

“they were not allowing us to live, enjoy beauty, it was as if these men were afraid of themselves” she says

“I know I know” he says with a smile on his face. he is glad she is there, there is a lot of explaining to do.

“It happened all over the place, they just enjoyed the control of women, that’s it!” he sighed, before adding;

“you give them a little power and they are soon addicted”

She rises her eyebrows, that’s it she thought, they were addicted to control right from the start.

Neda, young lady of the revolution, gave her life, made full use of it, amen.

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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.