Red Hot Chilies For Fear

 

I am still young…..

On the streets, she is in her twenties, she is young for sure. Watching it all, for ever aware, it’s how she feels secure, getting over it has not been easy, she is trying to play it safe if safe is possible. The memory of that night, the lasting impression, not the one she wanted to store, it has forced itself inside her like a thief, unwelcome, but there. In her side pocket her hand, which is wrapped around, a small bottle of hot chili pepper spray, a concoction she prepared herself, by adding a few heavy peppers to the original spray, she wants it to stop a horse, she has tried it on her cat, and it worked. The cat stayed away for a month, sorry puss. The sudden noise of a car startles, she recoils from any loud noises, her inner calm, she was strong she thought, not strong enough to fight the pills they gave her; she has nightmares wondering what they did to her, the only scars, a large bruise spot, the real scar, the fear they left behind. Was that the reason she joined the pioneers; never going to trust alcohol again or anyone using the stuff. Who knows why, it happens, the therapist told her she’d get over it, words that came all to easily to mind, experts are supposed to know. Paddy, so polite in the beginning, never wanted much, was it all an act, years later, perhaps it was she doing the acting, she doesn’t enjoy the thought, he might have been happy with a go to woman, mentally he was never a challenge to her, is it all about my life, is the today me the real person, or is it a return to who she was before. Dreaming, did she dream. When did it stop, was it the bout of depression, no she sighs, that was after the first beating, at least she saw it coming.

Her head in her hands, she twists her vision towards the bottle, a sly glance. You, she reaches for it, examines the label, her vision is improving, she can read the small print, she lets out a laugh, what a sense of humour, she imagines God to be a comic somewhere, taking the piss with us, allowing us thrash the party, then like an absent father, returns out of the blue, not as a rich man, but as an extremely happy man, who wears a permanent smile, takes a can from one of the party goers while exclaiming, there will be a clean up she, or he says, to which all at the party nod approvingly, relieved to hear, that while the party is over, it’s not the end of all parties, a break in the contagion, slowdown time, as if the jet that is carrying his baggage is about to come into land, presents for the children, stiff warnings too, behave yourselves he says, play safe, a phrase everyone smiles at, especially Amy, who had her first close encounter of the intimate kind, with her boyfriend, love connection with play safe top of the priority list. Well, if you are provided with the means of spiritual well being in it’s fullest, you have to take into account the assets you are born with. Is that wishful thinking, she is young, how else can you survive, doom and gloom ignores the beauty of art, not everyone went to Amsterdam to view available women and cheap sex, not forgetting the other; there are museums as well.

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The Great Panic

A world of machines, mind controlled, disillusioned, competing interests vie for control of everyone living, each team aiming for the top, while a smattering of true believing beings in the Great God of Love, without many options, hang on tenaciously to their beliefs, on the cliff face each day, the world of love is pressurized more and more, media forms fight fierce wars, for the souls of the new borne and all.

Glitzy president surrounds himself with model types, doesn’t want anything else, the friends are all wealthy, and they are supposed to represent us. Feeling awkward, you could do with some improvements, well, the presidents people all look beautiful.

Fill their space with every type of convenience, and pretend it was an accident, stare blankly as if your clueless, ignore the facts, it had been leaning this way for years, amen.

Into this arena there are few winners, but one did make it through the shield of deceit and deception, and in the process enlightened the hearts of those in the circle of love, and this is where we stand today. Are they going to falter, and return to the old ways!

Solomon sighed; The help always arrived, even when we don’t recognize it. Before the great changes, we get nudges in certain directions, guiding us. To recall the days of old, the prophets were sent at regular intervals, it wasn’t as if we were left to our own devices. The outcome is predicable when we ignore the voice of God.

Days of Gratitude

How many of us have life changing experiences, Solomon listens, the preacher speaks, he retells the story of the ten lepers, healed, and how one in ten returned to give thanks, to God, so Jesus tells. Solomon listened, gratitude meant a lot to him, the day more poignant than most, his own recall a little blurred, his memory of events poor, but the results, never doubted. It was the anniversary of the perfect intervention in his own life.

 

To encounter the perfect intervention, where all that is seems lost, and all from then on is new, is rare indeed. The tingle in the feet, your still connected, the feet will move again, the lower body functions, how you got there, you have a faint recall, this must be the feeling you get, when you are born, how did I get there, and since so many do it the same way, you think nothing of it, it just happens.

So much we regard as a right, so the mob tells us, this is what your entitled to, and if you don’t get it, you ought to sue some one, there are lawyers on every corner, complain. So, there is the gardener, the flowers are sad, they have lost their luster, they don’t grow so strong, who does he complain to, probably himself, I didn’t use the right fertilizer. Then recall the mindset of the One who set the style of the flowers, the colors, their size, the smell; he does not get the same scent, the senses are not moved, the garden is plainly not that healthy, who does HE complain to.

Gratitude, how we respect the gifts we are given, and how we pass it on, it’s that simple, amen.

 

I just Growing up…

She sits in the chair, a little subdued, the medication, she sits while she waits, she is not so sturdy, they gave her a diagnosis, the memory disease, well, it’s an age thing. The limbs don’t have the same stretch, your energy isn’t what it was, the eyes not a clear as they used to be, the appetite too, not as appealing, getting old they said, Mable sighs, I am on a journey, I’m not giving up, I am growing up. A mind of her own, her own ideas, she didn’t beleive the blarney of men in charge, thanks rubbish, who filled them with such stuff, who. She fought her life seeking equality, now the journey has brought her to the care home, at the mercy of those she railed against, those that followed the rules. A nurse approaches, Mabel frowns, the pills, the last time she refused it, they sedated her a whole day, and gave her god knows what. I was just forgetting stuff, doesn’t everybody do that. How much do so many hide inside their heads. How those playing games would change the topic once the questions got testy. No one is allowed question the experts.

Solomon smiled, the story he heard on the radio, the lady with the mind disease, all she wanted, treated me as I am, it’s not your pity I want. Getting old sighed Solomon, we just want to be accepted. The story is never ending, it’s just a change in circumstances, one day you breath, the next your a bird, flying somewhere. Do birds worry when they wake, do they reach for the medication. Mabel, she is a living being in a fast changing world, so fast, the time to look after her is no longer left to relatives, the world so busy, it can hardly look after itself.

The weather, warm and sunny, no one rushing, the only que at the ice cream van, mabel recalls the days of old, how everything that a mother could do was done, same as it always was, by mothers across the world. There is a bitter taste in Mabels mouth, its’ not the tablets, its the story in the paper. The role of women, whitewashed from all circles of importance from the beginning of christianity, then copied by other religions, framing the mind set, bastards she sighs to herself.

LYING IN BED

Of course I want to see you again, he’s empty, waiting for an excuse to leave her, she is vulnerable, he loves me, but that was a half hour ago, what does she want now. Those web services, no commitment sites, married divorced, what ever you want, click the button and you can flirt with them all day. Its like emptying your head into another, passing the fantasy on, and none of the physical stuff till you only want one thing, satisfaction.

So easy, on the subway, how easy to fantasize, weird stuff, it was better than going to see a therapist, and others asking for more, wanting to hear your own weird stuff, the worse you got the more they listened, what a dream, being able to pour your fantasies into the world, with no consequences, no chance of catching a disease, your secret, so you thought.

On the waiting list for a liver transplant, he is thinking back, it seemed like yesterday. The world was at his feet, and more money to burn than time. How he wasted so much. The news of miracles and divine interventions was wrecking his head, It wasn’t news that we was able to turn off, the news, the signs. He was supposed to be a street wise analyst.

all saints

We all believe in something, usually something insane. Rarely something worth believing in. The latest teen idol if your under 16, the next elvis, the colour scheme in the house, the clothes you wear, says something about us. Is their Christian belief in all of this. It all says something about us. Is their a Christian belief in all of this, or are we missing something, we all have beliefs, God Most High the choice here today, but so many, what is there to believe in, if you’re a starving child with an empty tummy, a voter seeking an honest politician, an  aids sufferer without access to decent affordable health care, My politician is a good one, he knows how to respond to a contribution. The roll call of idols we look up to in our day today affairs is surprising.

There’s an idol for everyone, the TV star, the football player, and the image they create for us, images so carefully crafted by professional advertisers, advertisers who care less about you and me, and only value money.

These same image creators would sell us satan, provided he paid them, I have no doubt they already have, surprised. Today is all saints day, rekindling belief in ourselves and those around us, I call it the day we remember the great people, who in their own way, had led us to this day, directly and indirectly, and the sacrifices they made for all of us. To believe in something and someone greater than yourself, is usually a belief, that comes through ignorance of your own self worth.