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.

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Village Meltdown

You wont believe it, druggies on every corner, I was propositioned by a young woman, beautiful, she is injecting herself, you probably know her from school, the towns people are afraid, it’s madness over there, even the cops are afraid to go near the place. Solomon looked at the expression on the face, the one doing the talking, he was the listener. Foils on every alley, needles too, he listened to the voice, it was the run up to the election, and the speakers party was the strong arm of hope, Solomon listened on. How the masters of misery try to create the worst thoughts, frightening the sheep, a tried and trusted method of getting your attention, so listen..

You have to listen in the context of the times, same way politicians and poll shakers do a test before they announce the real news, they gauge your reaction. Everyone from Islam is dangerous, every Mexican is a rapist, every Irish man is a drunk, every white man a saint. The boy cried wolf sighed Solomon, when the danger is real no one will believe him. It was a mute point, there were many signs in the Sky, results, polls, national intrigues, unstable leaders, trumpet calls, as Ezra said in the book he wrote 2,7000 years before, before the coming of the new world. Solomon hoped those who were trying to divide opinion had been reading the signs, it applied to them as well, the village meltdown.

Troubled Man

It’s not easy to cope with it, the stuff that you are exposed to, the tired mind and the stuff that has been fed into it, and the experts and what they have been doing about it, the troubled man is young, he has seen so much, puts it into his sounds, rousing the Spirit, hoping to hit those who caused the mess, remind them of the disaster they have visited on the world, one day they will listen and sit up, he gets his guitar, gives it a rip, the noise screeches, the sound of a child crying out, a troubled man, who came up with this, where were all the experts, asleep.

Solomon was imagining what it was like, your young, too young, the stuff you see, it can’t be human, what strangers came up with this stuff, a question a lot of people want to ask, and what are they going to do about it. They call about the environment, the ice melts, the polar bear screams, the roar, what are you doing to my world, calls out to his creator, same as the one who made life possible, the vineyard tenants have been asleep, chances are things are going to change, raise the Spirit and become part of it.

 

It is time to shake the cobwebs, and to stop putting the head in the sand, ignorance or fantasy is not going to sort this, clean water, what, and you are worried about putting on a little weight, get real, who wants to worry about fitting into a coffin anyway.

Thanks Giving

Patriot doing his duty, following orders, has been sent to Kill a difficult leader, there is a rebellion going on in Columbia, the forest is in the way, they need the land to grow palm oil trees, and the local environmentalist is getting in the way, there is big money, and they have friends in Washington, it’s not a Clancy plot, it’s not a G

Grisham movie, it’s basic fact, many leaders were removed from the sixties on, righteous men, in the way, removed to make the dollars, while the environment, physically and socially was destroyed.

We need wise leaders, and those that serve all that is good, so Solomon prayed. He sighed, the what if story, how men like JFK were removed in their prime, and as for the men behind these awful crimes, what amount of blood is on their hands, no amount of water will ever wash away. They must be old now he sighed, and when they went to meet their maker, what excuse would they have?. It reminded him of the ancient words, they will kill you, and think they are doing good, how often had they got that wrong. But give thanks too, at least we know that the old words stand the test of time, and that was great news for all believers, amen.

Journey of My Soul

Man, did that get her attention, she hadn’t heard those words before….

words, what is he going to say next, they were all listening to the “Guru”, waiting for the inspired words to reach their ears, silence, they stare at each other, the assembled, inside they feel a little pious, well, they are the lucky ones to be in the audience, to even hear the words firsthand, Solomon sighed, imagine what it was like for Jesus, in real time, you can’t beat the original.

What is a journey anyway, it’s what happens in between the times you were born and the time you leave your soul, the meat in the sandwich, the experiences that you fell into, the niche you found for yourself, the choice between comfort and risk, decisions. A Journey is a serious of decisions, some made for you, some you make on your own. Solomon was at a group meeting, a bunch of story tellers, the theme they had to write on, the journey, the journey, so many different meanings, endless. Some journeys you make as a tourist, sightseeing your way through life without getting to know anything, some you make out of great distress, the troubles that befall you, and how you deal with them.

Then there are the journeys that change worlds’ Solomon smiled, he’d a few of those in his lifetime, not just one, but a whole bunch of them, each of them juicy on their own, but he got through the maze. His inspiration, those who made similar journeys, well, similar in that they caused him to take the risk, and go the route less taken, when you go jungle as they say, and forego the usual comforts.  Nelson Mandela, persecuted for taking a stand, Che Guevara, immortalized, Martin Luther King, too, the point being, those that made those choices before, laid the stones of future journeys for many, and each one of them, did it, one day at a time, the speeches only came at the end.

Monday, a new journey, he was asking for help, sure he would be assisted, as prayers made in the Holy Name, never go unheard, and it just happens. Believe, amen.

Why should you write…

It was a valid question, he wrote after all, she was a successful doctor, she was trying to understand him, he sighs, she is his type of woman, she actually listens. He gives her his answer..

“when I wake in the morning, it’s a new day, it’s not a case of the same repeating itself, it’s new each and every time, they eyes may tire, but the scene is a new one, no often how often I see it, a bit like your patients I suppose”

She pauses, trying to get her head around it, she nods.

“I get it, we need to be both listeners and observers at the same time!”

he smiles

“when we write about it, it becomes part of history, written with clear eyes, not fogged, as they say”

Up or Down….

Did it matter, they were watching from the shadows, the coins in their pocket jingle, reminding them, there was more where that came from, eyes that pierce. He held the audience, they listened to his words, there was only one of him, they were plenty, how was he able to do it, they were getting angrier by the day, as he stole their claim on them.

Solomon was watching the old clint movie, the “pale rider”, the community miners, and the big business interest, and the conflict. As they stood together, they were strong, alone you were vulnerable, same as a woman on a late night street unlit, there is a threat. In the world of image, where appearances count for so much, did it really matter, where you came from, so long as you stood together. It was the sign of the believers, they did not make comparisons between each other, they worked on helping each other.

It made the actions of Jesus all the more remarkable, under constant threat, he beleived in the Father, and they were not able to do anything.