Jack Spratt

At long last dawn finally reaches into the pit of my despondent sloth singing yes, and yes, again to accept finally as I am myself. This old man whose face melts more into my chest daily; a Basset Hound loved nonetheless. For despite everything I can, finally, accept myself as enough. To love life unconditionally as it is, it’s own reward so fabulous I have no fear of death.

I wonder if Jesus could, at any time in his life, enter the sanctuary and receive welcome unconditional. Power and force create nothing but death, yet he in dying rent the Temple Curtain in half.

Yes. I am conservative but only of Creation and Creator, the Who, beginning everything watching us destroy all humanity to be correct in our vanity and demonstration of our powerise. True I’ve seen myself before and after my time and have no fear that once destroyed we who live by faith will not be reborn in a better place; well rid of our longish season in Hell. Those who purport to lead while leading nothing but their vanity; while Jesus lingers naked upon the steps outside the Cathedrals of Greed.

He did, after all say, “The poor will always be with us . . “ Yet did He mean the poor of spirit so greedy for everything, never having enough; or we the meek who sharing whatever we have survive in grace? God obvious amongst the poor. The more I seek examples of exceptions the fewer fingers on one hand need to count them. Then add; wars without end.

Scarcely able to administer myself, I speak of incompetence, those who lead us into the World War 1 leading to World War 2 and the next and the next endless war the end of which will only known to the dead.

If for me everyday is Christmas, regardless of season, knowing the birth and death of either the savior or merely the day itself; is to celebrate both. I am so blessed of, and by friends, so better educated than myself who in response/reply annotate the 11th day, the 11th hour the 11th month. So quickly we forget those who died for any reason to keep this ember of freedom alive.

I am catholic in the universal sense, small “c.” A bastard Catholic without Pope. In the sanctuary of my silent soul celebrating the Mass surrounding the world daily 24/7/365. Knowing yet there is no one religion able to contain my soul. So I reside a citizen of the Cosmos happily so. I am named by God, yet unknown until death the time of face-to-face. So I follow no one regardless of time, gender, credo save for kindness to all.

I fail that ideal for my trials continue. Beset by administrators who dick me around because they can. In some curious sense it gives them a reason to get out bed of a morning; a purpose they otherwise can not find in themselves. With prayer and hopefully the last mention of my captivity in disrespect for the elderly.

Schooled in Chicago where the young would kill one another for a pair of sneakers. To, for one moment, find pride in being alive. There was a time when I thought myself bereft of parenting yet in consideration of their lives. I see them with no family at all, dismissed by corporate officers who have their parents running daily two to three jobs just to pay for food. Both the children who became my parents and those who sell drugs in the streets of Chicago. Free Market Socialism has become a cancer and the death of all humanity.

“ . . . when I was in prison you visited me . . . “ and for this, what I’ve written by way of preamble, is girding my loins to face the trail of another presiding authority to judge me fit to address loneliness and being abandoned a ministry without preaching just being exemplar of peace.

Grateful that I am able to express love in kindness to one and all without going to prison or having to beg for the privilege.

121110 14:11 Acceptance is love

Rarely am I ill yet when so I fall plummeting into an ache beyond imagining. The only remedy is sleep from which I just arose with a sense of a new order, collaborative, a boycott of all former governance and religion. A culture within which we in love and trust do for one another what must be done without profit but barter. Imagine a world without war or poverty.

I am an ignorant man questing for an education easily gleaned via the Internet. At that, deeply concerned for evidence of censure ostensibly to protect intellectual property. I am not proud of my ignorance since in seeking to learn I discover the more I know the less it seems to have any relevance to life, mine and yours, as lived in flesh and blood terms. And curious about the Resurrection I sense it will be a woman not Jesus who will lead us into the next epoch. In a sense, or way, I’ve answered my own question for what I describe is the Primitive Christian Church.

Both Theocracy and Democracy have degenerated into “should” and “ought’ leadership. Or; “do what I say or take the highway” to hell.

121111 02:32

To be held, no matter how long or short, in the gaze of compassion is to be lent a buoyancy beyond all storm’s tempest. Not so much; “This too shall pass.” But rather a knowing of peace surpassing all understanding . . . atypical of all former journal keeping, I now wander away playing with Annie, cleaning house, attending to the vulnerabilities I am liable to from administrators whose authority rules exactly as those criminals who play with economies for their own vanities.

Again, I can change nothing but myself. And in that change, enter eternity, and peace. Occasionally bereft of desire to annihilate the thieves who rule all humanity. They who so indifferently kill senselessly would be the first to cry for mercy should we all arise and merely constrain or boycott their games.

The courage to be fully yourself independant off the definition by others; any other, including the Author of life and love itself. Is to be aware that there is a responsibility in all that we do; for nothing is for naught; all is important. While it could be argued that I am inappropriately self-revelatory--given that I am at times way overboard in confession my ideals and failures--it remains the only antidote to what passed before: pretending to be normal.

I am amused by Steve Jobs remark; "I want to put a ding in the universe." I do not proclaim him guilty of sin but hasten to add he was wildly irresponsible in dividing people from themselves, exploiting youth to find reality electronically. Profit before prophecy? Regardless, the inventor of gunpowder, who pays the price: the victims. Typical of children, we play with things before understanding their penchant for enslavement, and the cost of conceding our innate self possession to those who would exploit us to their selfish ends.

If I have hope, and I do. Would I, or should I, call it faith? My enemy has faith in the bottom line while I ask how does it work in the reality of birth, life, death, bloody reality? For the commonweal? Not the family, tribe, state, nation or religion; but the all one family we are.

Recently, where I live, a mother was driving her son to high school. Both were instantly killed by a young woman texting while driving; a head on collision. It is my nature to ponder the fate of all three participants. With the greater emphasis on the young woman selfish enough to murder the others. Then migrating backwards through the cellular providers, Steve Jobs, the legislators, stockholders etc. imagining them all being destroyed in a similar manner. . . .Slowly, one-by-one.

I am imperfect. Merely human. Yet for justice one wonders? Is there justice? In this world or the next; of course I believe so . . . or is it that I have: faith, confidence or conviction so being so? My slow waltz with death is exquisitely seductive; this brief season in hell. The Kingdom of God is within each of us. Thank God for God--the Judge. God being far more merciful than I. After all what allows me to continue living waiting for the opportunity taken by our brethren in Tibet to immolate ourselves to prove our right to be as we wish to be and not slaves to someone elses vanity. Bad Karma, you bet your bippy.

121113 05:15
© 2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved