Hawaii

The volcano, 101 years since the passing of their last queen, the locals watch from afar, we can live with the lava but we can’t live if we are poor, Solomon sighed, saw the cattle in the huge pens, being fed till they reach the weight, then to the abbertoir they go, made him wonder, were we all disposable, as far as money matters, we are.

The signs in the sky, the clouds, the re curring events, the pressure on the heart, the stress of so many, something had to give. Hawaii, was the volcano just the start. Amen

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The Bridge Builder

It’s difficult agreeing, the rhetoric is correct, it’s the right thing to do, the argument makes sense, it only takes one final step, saying it. The time gets near, the fear rises, the hidden truth, those things you are hiding, come to the surface, the way all truth does. As they listen, the words make impact, where did it come from. From all the groups, the heads look down, he mentions the treatment of women, across all the divides, it’s the one cause they have all failed in, equality and respect. In our faults we find a common cause, so where is the bridge builder, who is going to patch the quilt, stick it back together again.

As the groups retreat to discuss the issue, the old arguments come to the fore. He said that Men and Women were equal. There were prophets too, who warned, that men would never be satisfied with one. Some try to address the issue, those that can’t forgive, gladly remind others of their so called faults, hatred has far too many friends.

Solomon was surmising, the signs were coming faster than snow in a blizzard. It was time to encourage all those making the effort for change, rather than reminding them of their faults. In parts of the world, it was dangerous, to even think change. So Solomon prayed, Help them lord, and curb the extremism that is a poison everywhere. Building bridges, he smiled at his friend, he didn’t say much, but he listened. Perhaps he was a King.

Amen.

It Wasn’t Us?

Impact, the influence we have on the lives of others, the red carpet is prepared so are the plaudits, the camera’s flash, smile, we are great, wow factor, then to be adored once inside the door, bling pretty clean new, the Kings and Queens of the earth, one day Solomon imagined, they would all have to account for their work.

Anger, a close up, the look in the eyes, the language, so grown up, even if meant for very young ears, well we, in a world that was over booked in terms of violence, those reading the script had a role in the matter too. Solomon watched a documentary, and it wasn’t pretty, gruesome, dark, very human and frightening.

The plans to murder, the old resentment never far from the top, Solomon listened, as locals and militia, joined in the murder of so many Jewish People, neighbors and work colleagues, quickly joining in the slaughter of millions, using the old hatred, and the false propaganda to justify their actions, it wasn’t us.

The child is five, maybe six, has to live in a difficult environment, has no place to turn, is emotionally committed, love is what we are born to, it’s the reason for being for all of us, getting along. Exposed to violence and those gadgets, he finds solace in the game that stops him thinking about, it’s how so many addictions are born.

It wasn’t us, what excuse was that, if you are aware of what is happening before your very eyes. Don’t mention hunger, amen. Imagine, God Most High is real.

The Gallery Girl

Nerves, a shake of the hand, the opening of the exhibition, will there be anyone around. She read the blurb, how they extol the works of those long gone, who didn’t make a penny from it, yet they praise them all around, for the cost of buying the art today. The Gallery girl has no such illusions; she has heard all the talk, knows a certain truth, nobody does it for cash, they do it to show off the talent, a form of Gift, amen.

In war truth suffers first, the latest blockbuster about the Vietnam war, another example. Then it’s the artists, did the Dixie Chicks…

Dixie chicks really complain about the war in the Middle east, a million dead and injured many years later, on account of the rush to the front, like all artists, those with minds of their own, they offer a truth of their own.

How will God judge the exhibition, she is a believing gal; her talent is obvious, a gift. Will he wonder from exhibit to exhibit, or just look at the price tag and decide. Imagine it, God and the price we put on everything, in order to justify doing something about it; Gallery Girl Hurry up, there is an opening there for you too.

The Intelligence Community

You have the economic community, the cultural community, the euro community, but has anyone heard of the intelligence community, or does intelligence count for much anymore, after all, if the image is all we seem interested in, who needs intelligence, and being short on patience and in search for the self, what has intelligence got to do with anything. The remarkable thing about intelligence, it seems prayerful in the beginning, the world of good intention, the collective wisdom, the ideas, then an action. I suppose you might compare it with a decent prayer; full of gusto, driven, passionate, and in need: many prayers are about rescue, something we need. really intelligent prayers, include more than the life around us, we spread our wings, bring others into the equation, very non modern, the world of the selfie thinks for the self, do I look good in that, you would if you went on a diet, i can hear the comment, this does not sound intelligent at all.

So, being interested in all things human, I have a vested interested in finding intelligence, a bit like seeking life on mars: it’s up there, it’s real, what did it exist for. So without further chit chat, i decided i would seek the intelligence community, not the spying world, but the real world. If laden with talents there has to be an awful lot of intelligence out there.

My first day on the job was not inspiring. They could send men to the moon, but could not sort out access to the world wide web. After all, creating a global platform that allowed anyone with access to a device, entry into the adult world, be it a child, a teenager or adult, did not seem all that intelligent. The same as starting a fire at a petrol pump station; it don’t take much but the consequences can be deadly. As I thought about it, a pint of Guinness to interrupt my search for intelligence was not a bad idea at all. At least that was an intelligent thought.

What world would create toys that encouraged violence, am I right or am I right!, that movie again, the chance to get it right today. Yeah, a cult hit I recall, but because it didn’t include enough violence and sex it was deemed a box office flop, when it wasn’t a flop at all, the intelligence i am looking for. Of course it was said, 2,000 years ago;

“the wisdom of man will prove to be pure foolishness when compared to the wisdom of God”

1940’s, the California desert, are you sure this will work!, a group of scientists build a device with the power to destroy all life, sounds stupid all these years later.

 

The Sermon

Your coming to church, he hears his mother, he is at the play station. He press’s a button, he has already forgotten, he is winning the game, two up and ten minutes to go, about two minutes game time. Hurry up she shouts, “do I have to go up there!”, he winces. He is clever. The teacher says that playing the game is good for my education. She can only smile, she is a patient mum. Hurry she shouts, damn, it’s two one and a minute left. His head watches the door, he thinks he hears steps, don’t push he thinks, he gets up, just as she reaches the top of the stairs.

In the car, why are we going to church Ma!, she is rounding a bend, being careful. Why are we going to church he repeats. She lets him say it a third time. The church appears in their view, she looks at him with a huge smile and says:

so you will learn to listen dear!

Do you have a child with listening problems, i’d say everyone who has children would say yes… well, why not bring them to church a few times, amen.

Give Thanks – a re blog

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day; yesterday’s post is still on my mind. I’m grateful for the poem that was in me, grateful for words to tell you about this episode in my professional life, and grateful to be who I was and still am. A tough old cookie. A highly sensitive and intuitive wise woman. A […]

via Surely goodness and mercy…. — Telling the Truth