Seeking the scythe moon as yet unrisen I felt the cold more so now then the breeze joyously caressed me as I thought of my too easily familiarity with all life.
Asserting my right to be alive. What I once thought mother would deny me for anything. Jumping up and down upon me, her silences, throwing me outdoors in November naked and locking the door behind me.
If you read me, you know these rehearsals; relevant now only in that I began to put the puzzle pieces together.
Easy in the presence of God, reverting to my envisioning myself the thief dying beside Jesus promised forgiveness instead of St. John the Baptist. It doesn't matter what you call me but what I respond to. I gave my mother no satisfaction of crying then or now. Never. It drove her to near killing me leaving me no excuse for why I live; none at all.
I name my antagonist, what some could reasonably presume I would call enemy. It is true of my truth, my word being my bond; like a Quaker you can take a truck load of Bibles bury, smother me, then burn me alive, the funeral pyre like Crystal Night Nazi's dancing in glee. And prove nothing more than your idolatrous belief in books, theory or theology and not my truth. The people I describe both those individuals and the institutions I have experience of are like the uneducated Islamic who shot the child in Pakistan for being a female in opposition to them.
Live each day as your last praying to the cosmos you're life having had some nominal value to others.
Ms. Minnette Rich and Mr. Burt Crisp were recent problems raising a number of ethical and moral issues in real time centered in a waste of my time and energy. Yet I prayed and pray for them now.
The Prayer Wheel of my mindfulness grown infinitely larger than I ever previously imagined before. Both individuals give lip service to kindness--yet only now do I recognize my own unwillingness to forgive or have compassion for myself--a far greater gift than either could otherwise have bestowed.
Randy would ask of me; "What can I (or should I) do, the children steal my wig or hat all the time?" Covering the consequence of baldness attributable to the experimental remedy for his Leukemia. Being a parent, of either gender, is sacrificial in nature; if taken responsibly in love. Memory fails my actual answer but it was vaguely akin to, "blessed are the peace makers" to which he said; "I'd rather be pissed off than pissed on!"
Both Rich and Crisp have no ideal they were flirting with a death rendering them wishfully begging to have never been born. Redundant and didactic I, instead prayed for them and continue to do so without conditions save that they know the will of God for them. Not for one second presuming to be the agency of their learning.
Yet both are agents of authority and would keep the status quo at any expense including throwing me beneath the wheels of passing cement truck. Think not in terms of retaliation but holding them accountable for their choices for a person who otherwise is kind to those who need it most.
They, themselves need as much if not more than the dying, yet use their nominal power to disable others from giving their charity or love compassionately.
On one level I could remain silent and would do so were it not for their complicity in what I consider a crime against others: living or dying; including themselves. In both cases I have found personal profit as a creative person; dying a small death to be reborn better than before the torture they inflicted upon my attention.
I know what the resurrection is about, but being a sophist for love, I learn more with each breathe. To follow God is to be prepared for change. Meaning to me: that were they to have died from my glance I would not cry anymore than when M dies; should she predecease me.
Life is difficult enough without the fear of dying. This I know from three years of volunteer service for The Mesilla Valley Hospice and from having lost, effectively all my personal furnishings and reference materials plus all creative works. Therefore disinterested in Mr. Crisp's reasoning for threatening me with eviction.
The kindness and compassion we give another is possibly the only occurrence in their lives. I do not solicit confessions, I am not ordained to do so, yet as a photojournalist I am familiar with many who think they are powerful and extraordinary and easily, now free of journalistic impartiality, say Romney/Ryan = Antichrist.
These are only words and cannot hurt those who do not respond. Yet, They like myself will stand before the Judge who like Solomon may say tear the baby apart. . . .who's a baby? . . . you're a baby . . . a child of God. All life is a product of love. Including this Planet called earth; which is in my new understanding Jerusalem belonging to all mankind.
"The secret of my success is that at an early age I discovered I was not God."--Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.
Those of us who kneel before our addictions to power and prestige are bound to suffocate by their ideals.
Worse.
Hell would be more like Woodstock than a very burning place: boring beyond belief. Too many "Senior Moments" LOL
121014 03:28 Revelation
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved
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