Autumn morning with cool breeze & warm sunlight between the trees..

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Oh God, the thought of representing you

upon this Earth, as it flies round in space,

fills with delight some part of me, renew-

ing purpose, meaning I am no disgrace.

But really can be, if I’m not on track.

I can be a disgrace to your good dreams

and what I was made for - your fill, not lack,

is what I would display, today it seems

that even when a problem can be seen -

a lack of humans doing some good job,

a vacancy, or vacuum, space, can mean

that my imagination then can lob

on in and “see” some actions possible,

and by such means you woo us to our tasks,

for eyes that see and ears that hear fill full

the first steps in displaying how love basks

around the place, most unsuspectingly

while representing you who walks through camps¹,

and travels down our roads, as enemy*

which might just show some hesed light from lamps(!),

and walks across a sea when blown and tossed²,

and through a little village to some place³ 

we never heard the name of. You’re not bossed

around by us, though influenced not haste-

tened, but we surely can slow down the whole

show that you’re on about, the drama/ play.

Well, please help me to method act, with soul,

and thus to share your mind and thoughts today.

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 * Thinking of that “good Samaritan”…(Luke 10:25-37)

¹ “take a stick and clean up & bury your poo, because the Lord your God walks through the camp of his people”(Deut 23:12-14)

²  “They saw Jesus walking towards them over the water…. He acted like we was going on past them..” (Mark 6:45-52)

³ “two walking to Emmaus, suddenly they were met by a stranger who joined them, talked with them… asked them questions, answered theirs… when they arrived he acted like he was going past, but they prevailed on him to stay a little longer.” (Luke 24:13-35)

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Dozen matter.. or does it?

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I’m given insight by two tales# just now:

the one is of a hell that comes to Earth,

the other is redemptive love - somehow

that brings the whiff of heaven to our turf.

And one is doing all that can be done

to spread approach & spirit of hesed*;

to keep the methods of those who are one,

while doing fam’ly tasks before we’re dead.

The other is to magnify the bit 

that humans share with animals down here,

(good kings and queens are part of and they fit

the “race” of those they rule. They do not sneer

at those below, that's worst case… part of hell.)

There’s two “ways”, in a womb world: partnership,

and living out their best dreams, doing well;

the other is to suck, before you slip

out, thinking in defined ways, quite constrained.

Creative love, the pinnacle of hu-

man life, is seen as “not to be retained”.

And life will sink - more purpose-less and fu-

tile, for we just look at the remains

within the rubbish dump of universe.

For we’ve defined ourselves, put us in chains.

Imprisoned in our walls, we’re quite perverse.

The way of life, is following the Christ.

The leader picked by all creative love.

For his life metaphoric’ly has spliced

the wisdom of the snake, harm of the dove.

And so this way would look at folk around,

and give where-ever and when-ever they

could see it work. Creative love has found

them and they keep themselves within that “way”.

For this way has no fear of death at all.

(Well, is enabled to move through the pain

and suffering that rubbish tips recall

for larger & more lovely life is gained)

It will not be constrained within a womb.

It somehow knows within itself it's end.

And bringing all that knowledge through the tomb

and out the other side, to meet our “friend”..

The mother (and the father), quite sep’rate

to us, yet kept together by a kind-

a kind of way of seeing, and a state

of being in this world, but not to find

ourselves to be OUR selves but owned by who

creative love is in itself. We give

ourselves to its own ends, and hopes then too.

And in that process I begin to live!

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# Two tales: The book “1984” by George Orwell, a dystopian, totalitarian, vision of ousting creative love & bringing Earth to be a  state of hell; And the old tale “Les Miserables”, a vision of bringing, one person at a time, one part of Earth to be an outlying state of heaven, one beggarly person  after another.

*  “hesed” is the Hebrew word meaning loyal love, loving kindness, steadfast love, and when translated into Greek the Greeks used their word for the highest noblest love of real determined friendship: agapé.

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Does faithful-loyal-love really exist?*

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(or is it only a word, or a cover-job for “commodities & desire”).

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We must interpret life through our mind’s lens 

for that’s what “seeing” means, when said of minds.

Some lenses need for less contriving bends 

to make their wearers lives match body’s finds.

An ideology, when held as such,

replaces our slow thought which takes much time,

and gives the answers quickly, saving much

of that commodity. Won’t that be fine!

If we treat our commodities as such 

that there is nothing else around, but them,

we start to undermine ourselves that much,

for “nothing else exists”. No space can mend

the claustrophobia, that otherwise

must tie our spirits down, along with minds

that like a dog must have time without ties,

where running and exploring, claiming, binds

us here. But greater still for dogs is “pack”

where leader can direct and work as well,

and members mean that wolf-life is on track

to overcome each single, lonely, hell.

But even there - each mammal nurtures young 

from breasts that give. And we the humans see

what is not spoken of (though it’s still done,)

in other species; possibility

of giving, not to get, but for the joy

of living out a bigger, greater love.

It’s hardly seen in young, but human boy

or girl has been known so to give*, not shove.

And I have seen a man give to a kid.

He gave not so the kid would make his day,

nor so a willing slave would do his bid-

ding afterwards. Not for some hoped for  pay.

That’s not to say no payment will come on, 

it is to say that YOU are not the judge, 

except of your own self, and you have long

known something in your core that will not budge:

unless one is connected to a big-

-ger love, of which our paltry love depicts

a shadow on the wall, our needed swig

to keep inside and harden up. Our tricks

compelling action, not from what we take 

for granted, but as what we choose to NOT

indulge in, when we could do so to slake

our own thirst, ‘coz a bigger will has got

us seeing what is good, and like a dove

(while snake-wise to the stuff we know is true)

allow the self-authenicating love

to act as only love has pow’r to do.

 

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*  In the wake of having just read “1984” by George Orwell, and tried various A.I. models, that remind me of the talking animal in the garden.

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let there be MOVEMENT..

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(to emotion, then) to commitment through action.. to who knows what… otherwise back down .. to you (“thought” you) knew what.

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After hearing “1984”, the novel by George Orwell, read out to me

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If life as pure mechanical A.I.

will not be waked by images of love -

to let it grow in soil, then espy

a higher kind that comes down from above,

and let it then take root, and bear a crop

upon this Earth, where choices manifest

as actions and as speech acts, which don’t stop

but rather clothe what’s seen as true and best.

Put flesh on bones of thought, which if they’re true

& strong & hold in “world as it exists”,

can then be lever’d on and move things too,

and pick up things to serve, not just make fists.

Unless you’ve tasted love yourself, I s’pose

that no-one here would blame you for your claim

that there’s no evidence from claims which rose

from trying to express in words, to name

it as “a thing”, not just the word we hear.

That kind of “doublespeak”, and “crime-stop thought”, 

which blinds the minds of those who sense what’s near

and might lead to conclusions that are fraught

with problems or with riddles that unease,

and might demand I update my worldview,

and let creative love still gently tease

me, into then responding with love too.

And then into the higher loves where I

don’t be the source, but rather conduit. Please

help me, a garden plot, with life inside,

where true judgements are founded, not just seized.

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A task to do..

Response to text asking about my availability for casual work today: 

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“I'm booked already. Sorry. 

God help that man, your son who's loved a lot,

as he assembles rosters and such things,

please give him wisdom - more than what he's got,

and help him to trust you - your gift of wings*...

Amen.

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*  The spirit of holiness, a spirit of “love, boldness, & self-discipline”, often depicted as a dove, or tongues/ wings of fire.  2Tim 1:7 In this case the gift of the spirit, which is larger than & encompasses the gifts of the spirit.

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an actual big brother

To Neil: Dear brother. Thinking of you. Glad of the rich gift you passed on to me of sharing your life with me, as though I was in your family, not just a fellow ten years younger. Your two handed approach of maintaining the task of learning to follow Jesus (one hand in his) in all of our lives, and holding out a hand of real friendship (starting with a listening ear) to others; has been and still is, a moon in a dark night.  Thank you.

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And thank you God, the humble one who cries,

whose heart is broken as you hold all things

within it, and we start to not despise

your weakness, for by it GOOD gets its wings.

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An amazing day of learning

 (to be leaning forward)...

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Connections made in this past day: Could you

please help me to recall anew what (all

that) I have learnt or started to see true

(& help me to forget what you would call

unhelpful to the processes you hoped

would happen in, and through, this man of yours).

I owe all that I am and how I’ve coped

to who has dreamed this world up. So, because

although I have participated some-

what in my growth and making, and some change-

es made within this world we see that’s come

about, around about us; when deranged

I find that I unmake, and bring some hell

into this world of yours, instead of what

reflects creative love and life. You’d tell

im-eed-yet-ly, I s’pose, ‘coz you’re the God

who’s bigger than I start to dream of now-

a-day’s work in this world of yours sure seems

to be a thousand years, but then somehow

a thousand of your years might pass like dreams

in one day of our life on Earth just now¹.

So “time” as we experience it here

is not so absolute, and fixed. I bow

to your choice of what’s useful. Glad you’re near

and operating still, though often through

the family of God, your fetuses,

within this womb, “our world” we call it. You 

might know, when you said “Listen t’wat he says!²”

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FOOTNOTES

¹  “But do not ignore this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day. (2 Peter 3:8 NRSVUE)

² 

• Insistently, confidently, through a godly (though lowly), friendly & concerned woman,  Mary, to the servants of the wedding tables, about Jesus: “Do whatever he tells you.”(John 2:5 NRSVUE)

• Booming through a thick cloud round about, to Peter (, James & John), about Jesus:   “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” (Luke 9:35 NRSVUE);  “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” (Mark 9:7 NRSVUE); “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” ( Matthew 17:5 NRSVUE)

• Moses addressing the people of God, Israel, before they enter the promised land: “The Lord your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among your own people; you shall heed such a prophet. [16] This is what you requested of the Lord your God at Horeb on the day of the assembly when you said, ‘Let me not hear again the voice of the Lord my God or see this great fire any more, lest I die.’ [17] Then the Lord replied to me, ‘They are right in what they have said. [18] I will raise up for them a prophet like you from among their own people; I will put my words in the mouth of the prophet, who shall speak to them everything that I command. [19] Anyone who does not heed the words that the prophet shall speak in my name, I myself will hold accountable. (Deuteronomy 18:15-19 NRSVUE)

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