Saint Who? You a saint i’s a saint all us saints and devils together form the Communion of Saints.

. . . for the commonweal of all life!

Can't say her name, because of HIPPA and Medicare; besides Mesilla Valley Hospice and minions will have another rhinoceros. . . . But she passed away the day I decided to leave Hospice.

Where the few who cared to know me . . . maybe love me just a little bit . . . knew me a writer using the forum of Journal Keeping as a matrix to publish with.

Otherwise I simply kept mum about it. Wisely as it now seems. Yet even those curious enough to ask what I did for my spare time or Second Job; I'd say; "I write."
"What do you write about?"
"God" walking away attending to another request for whatever.

Could be; maybe not. Perhaps her last whispered words, those mouthed but never heard. See, it takes a very long time for some of us to die. And come to think about it; Jesus had it real good. Dying in what? Three days? Not sure. But you should know that there are lots of things worse than death. Parkinson's disease being but one of them. Long time, taking maybe a decade to do the deed.

She was there my first day on-the-job-training. Not theory but reality. At that, maybe, not sure, but she'd been there two years before; on her back waiting; refusing to die. I came to love her in my way feeding her early before my shift began. Two days a week, four hours each. If things were slow, the population low, I’d take off after four hours. Otherwise I would stay until it calmed down again

Never thought of it before writing the last sentence. All my working life was parachuting in, hitting the ground running forward towards trouble. Not knowing what to expect: adapt, improvise, prevail. Maybe that's why I laugh at my own death? A little bit like my first child; Randy. Celebrate beginnings and endings. What really matters is the middle part: Life. Either of quiet desperation or OFU sometimes, at other's, just smile and get on with it.

Her birthday is Valentines Day. I won't bore you with my associations; after all this is not fiction or something to amuse you. It is my truth . . . the experience of discovering God is as really REAL! This is about you, not me or God. Dare I say? We're here for you!

Not extensive, but curious, I did look up Saint Valentine thinking he must be something special. Discovered there were four of them! Which one did my distant 'relative' a Catholic Priest in Dublin. Petitioned the Pope for a Holy Day? “Holiday?” Oh well. The parasite merchants. Those who's sole purpose, or so it would seem after listening to the Vice-Presidential Debates. Is to live off the sweat of other people’s toil and work. That is the essential nature of usury: Criminal. They create nothing but personal wealth and then pervert the laws of our nation to validate SELFISHNESS!

Nothing is hidden from God. Get over attempting to hide jerking off, occasionally wearing mommies panties over your head. God, is, in fact far more forgiving that you or I would imagine. Little boy and girl saints love one another BUT don't fool around sexually; just like Angels.

Arnold Schwarzenegger is a wonderful example of a Nazi Musselman. Or just another example of a spoiled child attempting to be better than his dad.

" I teach you beyond Man (superman). Man is something that shall be surpassed. What have you done to surpass him? " -Nietzsche

My question, based upon personal experience and lengthy inquisition of my father is: why do we attempt to emulate and/or surpass our parents? Try as hard as I will, or might, God is insuperable. In a sense, Jesus having died to prove His point. What can I do or say to top that?

After the thousands of pages written, most destroyed or abandoned, I have begun to see an emergent pattern. A covert direction for my Self/Soul.

Inactive, indecisive, previously, or mostly all of my life. I've changed. Could it be that the balance between work and faith is an example of the same issue expressed as being, in Arnold's case, 49% female and 51% male.

Maybe those who witnessed Jesus naked discovered He was a hermaphrodite? Unwilling to acknowledge his torture the Popes screwed the pooch by having him in diapers; nice and clean no shit, no piss. Atypical of a capital punishment designed to destroy the illusion of being: The King of The Jews. Assassination or sanctioned murder by both the Hebrews and Rome? Talk about free market socialism! Or possibly George Orwell's Animal Farm wherein the PIGS are more equal than the rest of us mere farm animals.

I love playing with these questions. Theology  bores me to tears. But I love eating politicians for lunch and stock brokers, bankers, commodities speculators, ticket scalpers, and Pay Day Loan Business any time for a snack. I used to think I had to be an artist ethereal or cutting off my ear. For me it was an either/or question. Through writing a journal I came to listen to the other more analytical sophist part. So I am astonished to recognize being both methodical and ecstatic. All my problems solved, not exclusively by my perception or judgement, but by balancing, reasonably all the component parts equally = and/both. I am a soul redeemed both by choice and by God.

Free Will meet the Judge!

These are just words. Take them as you may--or can--or don't read me at all. I care more for you than I care if you read me. So go read yourself.

I know God sends a few of us along every once in awhile just to season the stew. Or heady brew of cupidity and dictators who want women exclusively as breeding stock so they can overpopulate the world with more Mormons or Catholics?

What do you think?

I remain essentially a universal Protestant. All women should be taught to think for themselves exclusive of the urge to merge and make life for children who will never have a future in this world. Not a prophet I am convicted that we must presume the current course of action and options terminal. When requested I say grace “remaining ever mindful of the needs of others (especially the widows, divorced mothers, their children, the AIDS babies all over the world but predominantly in Africa where politicians emulate American Leaders as dictators.

I'm not perfect, you're not perfect, They are not perfect (Democrats or Republicans) and that's okay by me and by God. But there is consequence to everything. Nothing is for naught or nothing is for nothing. There are no accidents. Saying I’m sorry won’t cut it.

God being perfect informs me that it is our choice formed by informed consent; not the current circumstance. Thanks in large measure to Republican shenanigans. Use your consciousness and add those who lie about and to you.

My secret is that I know Hell. After all I live there and have been living here for seventy-two years. Add to which: God willing and the creek don't rise. Mr. Bert Crisp, Jr. will be here lording  over me his divinely given landlords privilege of throwing my skinny, wrinkled posterior out into the rush hour traffic . . . add to which I have a very strong instinct and intuition that J. L. Gray is not only cooking the books, like the Federal Government, but equally running a crooked set bilking the Human Urban Development folks out of tax payer's money. Facts can and do lie. Or like logic become the wanton whore for the use of any man capable of paying the price.

Are we For Sale?

My prayer for you for me for us is that we find good trust and truth individually. Then wherever two or more are gathered together there will be authority of, We The People! not just one more spoiled brat Republican, the Koch Brothers, Inc. & their expenditures to throw the will of us under a passing municipal bus. I am conservative of ancient truths self evident.

121012 01:11 Saint Who?
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

Women and Men -- Playboy models Rock!

121011 11:51 re: aged playboy models @ women illustration folder

“Our own life is the instrument with which we experiment with the truth.”  -Thich Nhat Hanh

Once-long-ago, distant-in-miles and time; I was a useful citizen in the editorial illustration business for 45 years. Now in the community I live in.

Remembering not that I am a victim of time, and abused viciously by petty scatocephalic: bankers, stock brokers, commodities speculators, politicians and various sundry administrators of HUD properties; but merely being a photo whore for Star Magazine who requested that I photograph several similar women albeit in a different context environmentally.

Oddly, then and now, I sensed I was photographing people; who like me had dignity and honor regardless of tits and ass. I being a male, had stolen my first copy of Playboy, I was less than legal of age to purchase it. Were it in my possession today I might recoup some small particle of the $1.25 million dollars stolen from me. I well remembering now my participation in the formation of that small fortune.

I liked my version better than this; but as I wend my way to ash, dust, dumpster or desert here in Las Cruces, New Mexico, the now World Capital of ELDER ABUSE and the depredations our All American Culture; well; what can I say? I celebrate the efforts of any photographer, journalist or not, who shines a bright light on the cockroaches who savage me wherever I turn. Now looking forward to death, my eternal rest or Hell as they will soon find their destination.

Kudos to all involved as I sit here prisoner of my concentration/death camp of monthly inspections.

121008 04:20 word randomly regarded + POSTSCRIPT

Honor amongst the innocents was important in prehistory and now; in summary I find it important to me. I was insanely angry with God and All Creation for the deaths of my children. By varying degrees and ways I have been furious with the secular world as well. Finding now the seat of my anger and its root I better know myself and what I am about with deadly intent.

http://biblez.com/search.php?q=little+children

I am deeply obligated to The Holy Roman Catholic Church teaching me to be myself; in peace and joy -- instead of insane with rage. By training Jesuit -- by experience a Franciscan. In the moment, to summarize my spiritual life, I discover myself balanced equally between the two disciplines and rules, such as I understand them, and by them be willing to live or die.

That was my background prior to arriving in New Mexico, my final home and resting place.

In summary as a freelance photographer for The Catholic Press. It was Bob Baldwin a fellow journalist met at the Providence Journal who sought me out while working six years as a carpenter and recruited me. He had been a Quaker converted to Catholicism like as by choice was Fritz Eichenberg who to the best of my knowledge--I had asked of neither why but accepted/submitted to their obvious devotion . . . I can be devilish in my ways of discerning, absent wishful thinking and finding the manifold ways God has lead me to this moment in time: a phosphorus match struck and flicked arching into a midnight sea to be subsumed there hissing in protest

POSTSCRIPT

Deeply aggrieved for a very long time, specifically the past thirty-five-years, after the death of my son Randy at home in my presence. I discover myself once more in grief for the abuses of J. L. Gray, Inc. who manage the property where my apartment is located. Despite my consultations with friends better advised than the Burt Crisp who gave me a pre-eviction notice, now absent and presumed stolen via illegal entry into my apartment during my absence. In for a penny in for a dollar or the rest of my life here in Las Cruces, New Mexico, The United States of America. At issue: to whom or how do I protest this obscene perpetual monthly inspection experienced as an invasion of my privacy?

I write this protest against the advise of those who know: "The System of Elder Care, J. L Gray, Housing and Urban Development (a USA Federal Agency)" first hand and all too well. They informed me that I would not be able to live with sixty miles of Las Cruces due to retaliation by any or all of the above named.

I could, with accuracy, make the same claim against The Mesilla Valley Hospice where I volunteered for three years. Both issues are interlocking yet, to go further would be a waste of my, oddly now, given my age of seventy-two-years, extremely precious to me time. Day-by-day becoming more so.

What set me off is that Mr. Burt Crisp will in all probability inspect my apartment tomorrow. I will be forced, to witness, thus abandon my planed day, his invasion yet again, in anticipation of another attempt to evict me. Based upon the evidence, now missing, his previous standards sexual, person and having virtually nothing to do with his responsibility monitoring this property.

It is not just Mr. Burt Crisp but J. L. Gray and Mac Management who employ people capable of evicting me for "cause" cleanliness or inability to responsibly inhabit shelter without assistance. The idea of which renders me suicidal having been around the world five times as journalist I have witnessed the living conditions of those so incarcerated. With complete candor I would rather die at my own hand then be so condemned.

There have been times, subject to the savage sadistic behavior of property manages, when I had come to hold a claw hammer behind my back ready to tear them apart with. This document is my only alternative to being naked in the street with all my professional, personal furnishing plus companion cat.

In summary: Abused from infancy onward I protest for all we who are merely litter to The Authority of any one or agency who abuse us mercilessly without accountability. At the moment I do not feel free to empty my trash in the dumpster. Mr. Crisp is present.

Thus what should be my and or our "Golden Years" are bereft of our savings, our retirement accounts, dignity or honor in The Land of the Brave? Whose motto is; "In God we Trust?"

Should God, or Mr. Burt Crisp allow, I will persist writing about self healing for those of us who otherwise would go berserk running amok killing indiscriminately. In these savagely depressing times. I ask for nothing but prayers that I be allowed to continue my mission.

©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

dialog with God

I write for the creation of it. Meaning: in creating anything we join THE CREATION -- THE BIG BANG creating us. I am reluctant, or at least have been, to share the signs, omens, portents hurtling through my mindfulness. Daily growing more ominous or ubiquitous these thoughts zing and singing from whence? Rather than detail, I will only share, that my love and prayer is that; this happen for and within you. I know you can do it too it two!

No tutu required.

Sleep as you may, can, or must; but for me sleep is death from which I betimes wish i would never arise since infancy. Yet even that, even now, is answered prayer. I did awaken at the magical hour 03:33 with a message from -- guess who! God of course. Who in her/his inimitable way said, simply; "I am the last and least servant of all creation." . . . well . . . i lie: having added on the "servant of all creation."

I am not exactly proud; nor do I ever celebrate my suffering, pain, or the deaths of my children and the long grief endured. I do not envy anyone or anything of material worth. There is a difference between cost and value, knowing all too well the wealth of my poverty.

And here I would point your attention to the most recent several Republican Presidential pretenders. They, it would seem, desire to be worshiped and idolized as THE GOLDEN BULL inseminating all the fecund, nubile, virgins with Saviors yet to propagate the world with greed, avarice, cupidity, usury as in MIGHT IS RIGHT! No matter how many of color are sacrificed to their; THE GOLDEN BULL SHITTER'S GLORY!

Feces has value yet, to me, forever remains the fully digested bodies, hopes, ambitions of the innocent slain and martyred for the vanity of Vanities now in control of The Republican Party in These United States of America . . . did not shithead George W. Bush remark that he trusted Putin? Looking into Putin's eyes with starry eyed adoration the mirror of his own vacuous, pretentiousness? There is no honor amongst thieves just celebration of crime. The spore of these two is littered with the waste of all mankind, no threat or promise, but accomplished fact.

I like this quote. It is unto me like Turkish Taffy indigestible clinging to my mouth, tongue and mind like super glue:

"The next Buddha will not take the form of an individual. The next Buddha will take the form of a community; a community practicing understanding and loving kindness, a community practicing mindful living. This may be the most important thing we can do for the survival of the Earth." –Thich Nhat Hanh

. . . it is valuable to mention that the Buddha is as Jesus Christ and his mother The Virgin Mary (she in particular having been 'raised' to the Godhead 3+1 = 4) All one God various incarnations and prophets of which I profoundly believe Muhammad amongst them . . .

--Book of Common Prayer " . . an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace."

"Casting all your care upon Him, for He careth for you."

. . . it is my spiritual dyslexia to think-feel-sense-intuit, written between the lines of the Judeo-Christian Bibles combined: that we are the temple/church/Holy See of God not those piles of stones or false idols, idolatry or ideological issues for which so many through history and prehistory have been martyred. Governments and Religions being the source of enmity and war between all the peoples of the world. Therefore responsible for more early deaths than any disease, abortion, or death by natural cause.

I suggest that you follow your own dedication to truth transparently. In that single act you will be fulfilled. As for myself, once a lover of all sensuality seeking fulfillment in the life and body of a woman find now that I am celibate by choice. The friend and lover of truth and reality serving me better than all others ideals.

I am infused with thanksgiving for the manifold gifts given by others who in times past I would attempt to capture as mementos of grace given, anticipated and expected. Then when refused would flee never having the courage to fight for my needs being met.

That which we desire, or hate, holds us captive and victims of humiliating greed. At least it did for all of my former life; filled with fear and anxiety.

Perceptually and experientially I victimized myself. Those tragedies, children lost or abandoning me, those who gave their all; was never enough. Again and again I fled seeking what found me this morning.

What need have I of another friend or lover . . . do we not drown one another in love!

In closing, a few ending or beginning thoughts: My cup runs over. Surely this cannot be insanity for there is no repetition but; an ever renewed challenge. Not merely daily; but moment to second . . . lest I do the thinking etc. you must do to be whole:

http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/a-bird-in-the-hand.html

121011 05:59 up since when -- Psalm 81
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

Flag - God - Country

Under one banner do I pledge my life to defend, without reservation, regardless of conditions; good or ill.

Each of us regardless of those who passed and yet to come are married to the results of our choice.  In love, marriage or country there is null point. And God is never still nor is life in any form. All the rough places made plain.

At the moment however, rushing towards this election: The white versus those of color; I am divided in my loyalties. Torn in half by rage, poverty and resentment, then peace, joy and blissful indifference. . . .This too shall pass and/or life goes on. In freedom or slavery.

The safety I know comes from God.

In whom I do trust.

The rage is towards those who have my honor and trashed it in greed and usury. Those who in their turn have sold their honor for the prize of being elected to public office in pretend or false authority and service: Senate, Congress, Supreme Court right down the line to the local Animal Control Officer.

They who have pledged differently -- with preamble -- a condition that they block the current justly elected majority in power. Our Commander In Chief obviously discriminated against for the color of his skin. Worse he did not play the party political machine game of: You give me this, I'll give you that in exchange. To acquire the position of power with all it's perks and prestige. As for myself I see not a imporor but a servant Of, For, by the power of the people realistically chosen. A responsibility to be crushed by the world at large; corrupted by various preceding, who have bared the final naked agression, avarice, greed and usury.

Shame me once; as in the contest between Bush and whoever. The has not been an election in the past one hundred and fifty years that would not crumble beneath close inspection by disinterested, without bias, persons representing the authority of the people.

Shame me twice and we will raise a protest the end of which you will never see. Since God suggests there is injustice in spending more than the majority of Americans could ever earn, or own, to establish a Republican Majority. Which, in faith, I still protest was criminal and unjust. As before.

We the people know reality, there are no more industrial jobs, the majority of our labor given to others off shore. The age of industry is dying or dead in America.

The age of information and manipulation of information and the poor economy have destroyed the people’s freely informed choice of governance in State or Religion. The cost of an education has become, at any level, subject to profit and administration pundits; not teaching or teachers.

"Real heroes are men who fall and fail and are flawed, but win out in the end because they've stayed true to their ideals and beliefs and commitments." --Kevin Costner

Missteps and dishonor in our governance by Republicans have given inspiration to dictators the world round to imitate. The prospect of a Republican in public office is offensive to me since it promises the rule by few of the many. Meaning endless war and the prospect of our being the New Rogue State aggressively promising the end of the world. He who leads and I follow said “love your enemy” which merely, to me, means negotiate before you kill him.

Missteps at this point in time will mean the end of all human life as we know it; for the profit of a few Robber Barons and or Corporations who actually dictate legislation to their benefit.

No jobs. Or those offered: low paying menial wages, Seventy cents on the dollar paid to white men.

We stand on the beginning of a new age: equality for women and men, freedom from tycoons who dictate the where, when, how and why of everything. My fellow American’s we, under God, are free to choose between going forward to the future in peace and justice. Or stepping backwards remaining in unjust relationships to the rest of the world creating more terrorist in reply to our aggression against them.

"Of all the preposterous assumptions of humanity over humanity, nothing exceeds most of the criticisms made on the habits of the poor by the well-housed, well-warmed, and well-fed."
--Herman Melville

121009 21:47 America, the once proud and beautiful
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

Ego flatlined at birth

Ego flatlined at birth; or so I now sense looking back from beginning to near ending this life so rich i’ve lead. Wealth is a relative word but not relative to me as in a rich father who left me nothing but grief too long held barring no interest: zilch, zero, nada!?

Yet I adore my sweet beloved Impress Poverty now. Yet equally am bewildered why? No matter how I address the pig who begot me with the robes of nobility for this divine gift being impoverished i equally if not more so remember those others who equally stole my life as I knew it when inhabiting the same shelter; never a home or house; always theirs and I could not afford even then the rent emotionally.

Fleeing in terror of more lifelessness, or perchance destroying them instead of myself, I mourn to some extent the reference materials abandoned. Since I ran, essentially bereft and naked into the far horizon knowing not whence I went or why. The bonus of hindsight is now enormous since it implies a wealth or tuition beyond mortgage or usury. Naked, distraught, guilt by imagining, unable to afford either the transport or storage of all abandoned I denied receipt of it in any manor, way, shape or form.

True I had on occasion destroyed and/or abandoned all that was the persona former of my pretence, delusion, conceit that anything I’d done, including being born, was of any moment or measure treasure. Paltry evidence actionable of ambition to be something other than that which I was taught at birth; a life unworthy of itself.

So no ego need apply, convict or apprehend, since even now knowing in death: into the dumpster goes everything left including the ashes of my remains. It amuses me to think with one click I will be able to delete everything I’ve written.

It is not odd that I double lock both doors after strolling about the night near naked speaking, sometimes barking/crooning/howling quietly, at the moon. Lunatic? It is a sense of invasion by the gay property manager who wants by his pre-eviction notice, since stolen by breaking into my shelter, this small inconsequential cribe I temporarily inhabit insufficient to my need for room to sprawl all my current requirements to live at all. Homosexual rape is aggression and crime punishable by law; as is home invasion monthly. I know. I looked it up on the Internet and consulted two trusted advisors, friends, mentors; or those who should know by any other measure. Both used the same word: “invasive.” Once a year is enough, twice is odd but monthly is obscene -- my words not theirs plus a bit of soft shoe and adlib.

Seems reasonable to me, to say rapist and thief: regarding all politicians, bankers, stock brokers, speculators, Property Managers middlemen, scalpers -- worse Supreme Court Judges who proclaim by legal edict GREED IS GOOD AND TO BE CELEBRATED THE LAW AND COMMON PURPOSE OF ALL THOSE SELFISH WHITE BOYS WHO WANT TO EAT MY BREAKFAST, LUNCH AND DINNER having me abusively and sexually all-together-now: “Who's a rapist, Who's a thief, Who's a politician and Who's a servant of All?”.

Well, swell, moving right along. One can, or may, or both, recover from rape homosexual or otherwise yet the rape of one’s psyche is unforgivable. My “golden years” in declining health, no material wealth to speak of by compare to those who purport/pretend as con artist to represent our commonwealth: Public Servants of The People; who in their authority richly reward themselves with lifetime excellent health insurance and payment for doing nothing in perpetuity . . . small wonder I say in their presence as I’ve said all my working life: “S#!t Head!”

Inforceded, aggressive, authoritative rape and abuse in/of all sorts and conditions; reminds me of the thesis that I might be somewhat, if not actually, a reincarnation, or resurrection of St. John the Baptist. Maybe, in part minor; no insult intended. I remember well Salome seducing her father into beheading me, oh sugar, i mean Him that is St. John anything. KISS kiss my library card stupid.

Where once-upon-a-time I’d claim the greatest thing: sexual gratification, eclipsing learning to read. In celibacy I revert to the ongoing benefit of reading over nearly everything including the ability to innocently  proclaim the Emperor is naked with my clothes, home, car, education and medical care consumed for His delectation and amusement in perpetuity.

Not long ago I went to St. Andrew Episcopal Church seeking a faith community to celebrate and worship God in. Apparently the church secretary thought me too disreputable and curious, called the church sexton who with folded arms glowered while following me about compelling me to leave unmolested. However in the course of my wandering I sat in on a charitable activity: women sewing and/or knitting things for the poor. Stuck up a conversation with one leading to the revelation that her former husband also was a photojournalist capturing the Edward “Ted” Kennedy automobile sinking with the licence plate clearly visible a body, alive or dead, of a young woman whose life would otherwise be anonymous . . . I no longer find it odd that I am so lead to the core of myself by God.

I have as yet to find a faith community. Not even Mesilla Valley Hospice found me acceptable. Oddly I feel as though being flung under a passing bus was “fated” since I grow daily more in love and service to God. Wherever lead.

121009 05:36 ego flatlined
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

God's love for all of us is:

Higgs-Boson particle “likes a joke and a drink” say scientists

121009 02:39 Comment by Yvonne Hand 2 hours ago

Delete Comment

WOW

In Reply:

"Christ said, "The Kingdom of Heaven is within you." And the Indians say that and the Zen people say that. We're all God. I'm not a god or the God, but we're all God and we're all potentially divine — and potentially evil. We all have everything within us and the Kingdom of Heaven is nigh and within us, and if you look hard enough you'll see it." --John Lennon

Validation is hard come by in an age of distortion, institutional corruption the science of psychology, advertising and the perversion of so many mere words. In reply with joyous gratitude to I use her praise to open this post.

To do anything creatively is to join God in Creation.

A simple statement with pregnant and fecund with potential. Since for me it implies and validates my thesis that ‘virgin birth’ is something we all are capable of.

Immediately my mind returns to the disappointment that I’ve yet to see the face of The Virgin Mary - The Mother of God.

Seen twice in dreams, of long duration. Not just the dreams themselves, but consequently seeing Her in all Women. Her face throughout; was in shadow; even while we swam breathing under water the great distance accomplished or apprehended. I am a man aware that as a male I am only 51% a male the remaining 49% is female.

The nature of my being: by nature, nurture and education; in this, our current culture. Is to be in symbiotic relationship with women to whom I am indiscriminately attracted.

It seemingly has taken me centuries to know within my core perceptions that while attracted to a comely woman I am now too well aware that the package, this body the soul wears, is indicative of nothing but the current aesthetic ideal. Attracted to African-American women or all women of ‘color,’ in the few or several instances of slaking this curiosity I’ve come to laughingly say; “Honey drink more black coffee you ain’t black/dark enough for me.”

In relationship with the Divine Ms. M, she of the emerald eyes; the Sphinx of near legend by my near constant reference in what I write rebuffed my attempts to pubish my love for her saying; but what about Annie (my female rescue cat companion)? In reply I listed God fist, myself second and then she in tie with The Virgin Mary and last obviously not least Annie. I could hear her mind churning over the telephone, silently saying; “Oh Dear! what will I do with this man? To those who see us together it is in general thought we are married, or lovers, or something more than friends.

Sex is sex, birds and bees do it. As well as dogs, cats and dragonflies without shame or guilt publically.

It follows that I so love M, that; as the Sufis say of God and Lucifer, a ‘fallen’ angel, God’s “BE GONE!” was interpreted by Lucifer to be God’s final word and sulked in Hell forever since. Let it be so unto or by me in regard to her.

We the Children of God would need no laws save for our avoidance of responsibility for our choices. At the moment I am thinking of the Quaker practice of never placing their hand upon the Bible to swear sincerity but by refusal imply; “My word is my bond.” If that is unacceptable then your proceedings are equally unacceptable by me.

"Our society is run by insane people for insane objectives. I think we're being run by maniacs for maniacal ends and I think I'm liable to be put away as insane for expressing that. That's what's insane about it."

"The unknown is what it is. And to be frightened of it is what sends everybody scurrying around chasing dreams, illusions, wars, peace, love, hate, all that.... Accept that it's unknown, and it's plain sailing."
“When somebody is angry with us, we draw a halo around his or her head, in our minds. Does the person stop being angry then? Well, we don't know! We know, though, that when we draw a halo around a person, suddenly the person starts to look like an angel to us.”

. . . “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” --John Lennon

MandM legend between she and I, we confessed to one another that we married initially because we thought it expected of us and discovered soon afterward the covenant a immurement from which we, by the nature of our bond would, in her words from her generation; “You made your bed now lay in it!” That is intimacy and sex is merely one facet of love.

Typical of women, of a certain age and experience, they are burnt offerings their sacrifice ignored eventually.

“Each of these castles of stone and each wooden hut has its structure of fixed ideas or flimsy, ill-based opinions superposed above it within which fools stay immured, but the wise find apertures for escape.” --Marguerite Yourcenar

"Man loves little and often, woman much and rarely." --Anonymous

Celibacy is implicit in that when one has a relationship with God; what need is there of another 24/7/365 or /366 on leap years? Yet for me, M turns me everyway but loose! In life and death I am loyal to her as to Her The Virgin Mary the Mother of God. also know as “Our Lady of Guadalupe.”

“Of all the means which wisdom acquires to ensure happiness throughout the whole of life, by far the most important is friendship.” --Epictetus

©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

I have faith in todays events; wall-to-wall, detailed explanations; extrapolated from the most troubling dream of my memory--in this life--at least.

I was manacled with iron cuffs by a chain attached to something solid. Hearing a grating noise, looking up at the glooming. Dust dancing in the faint light becoming brighter. The scraping persisted, light crescendoed becoming blinding yet shadowless. Slowly the light grew enlarged. I naked found myself chained to a barren tree truncated nearly limbless; no bark, obviously dead wood.

What force moved the slab above me? I could not discover.Beside me another man stood, shaken, bruised, nose broken, lunging away from me as though I was about to kick, or bite, or strike him; a look of horror contorted his face. . . .
He was darkly semitic . . .

My dream ended and through the years since I began to wonder if I had not see Jesus?

In childhood visiting Jones Beach, Long Island, New York I was tumbled and towed, smashed against the sand; possessed in an ocean wave’s undertow. Feeling the terror, I now remember it was the first time I nearly drown. My helplessness and the sense of release from all struggle. I was saved. In four similar situations and circumstances lungs dead of air about to scream and drown I was saved additional terminations helpless. Why?

I apprehend that I’ve seen Jesus in dreams twice. The first time I was underwater beating His robe. He holding my head, I was a child then and He an adult, not away from my arm reach punching futilely against robe but hand cupped behind my head holding me to his thigh. With each swing I put my heart and soul into striking Him dead but as in the undertow I was helpless with rage for all my childhood suffering.

The last I saw of Jesus, in a vision, he said; “You are on your own,” touched my shoulders, turned and walked away and I cried convulsively driving on Route 95 Northbound somewhere around Stonington, Connecticut. It was during daylight and I was boxed in between cars; Carol sat beside me -- I have known for a lifetime how to hide my tears. It was the first time I knew that I had been in The Presence of Christ. All preceding times left me uncertain, shy about referring to the with anyone. I may or may not have shared the barren tree incident with M but cannot now remember doing so. I was so ashamed of my behavior towards my best friend ever.

And now, even now remembering, I cry because I caused Jesus to fear me! Then He left me. Why!

To know and be known is the primary acknowledgement of embracing life; “I see you.” Ask how the other is and listen. I am a journalist and know how to lead people, yet I do not do so now, but listen after the hello and then listen until I hear the broken place described and then I hold them in prayer. Only knowing now how my prayers were answered this morning and then lead through the day until this moment.

An astrologer sought at the suggestion of friend, therapist, Episcopal Priest and a Jungian. I’ve lost the map but not the memory of her and what she said; “conservative in an ancient sense, the mind of a poet . . . “ there was more about my life changing inevitably (irrevocably?) Of late I have, at the suggestion of a former high school student a grade ahead of me who after reading something I wrote “stream of conscious” style, then not knowing exactly what she meant but she did say WOW! 3XWOW!!!

Since then I’ve broken into spontaneous ‘poetry’ occasionally: when I could not write in prose what I had in mind succinctly. The practice draws from a different internal well of perception and usually surprises me using a different discipline. It is from that well that I discovered roleplay especially regarding The Passion.

I cannot for the life of me explain what happened to lend me the sense I’d, once-long-ago been John the Baptist? Or that my initial engagement had been being his devil’s advocate. Yet even now it seems to make more sense of my dream than anything else. And the synchronicities continue. And the peace I know cubed from all past being in tranquility.

God, it would seem listens to prayer. Perhaps not giving what is asked for but what is needed?

To close for now. I remember all the other astonishing coincidences thinking then who me? Then why me? I am so unworthy of God’s attention. But we are all creatures, and children of God. Perhaps it was working at hospice that resolved my grief the children lost, my rage and eventual recognition . . .
Matthew 19:14 Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and ...

Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." ... //bible.cc/matthew/19-14.htm - 16k

http://biblez.com/search.php?q=little+children
. . . may have meant me as well as my children and like lightning strikes we learn to accept and submit to grace eventually.

We do not heal. We lead others to heal themselves of all their fear, hatred and grief. I see Jesus or Mary in others but of God: in all.

121008 19:52 lightning struck
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved