Padshah

I woke up slowly. I had forgotten my new life...

I had to hide my True self.

    The ground was covered in a ruby coloured carpets with golden strings woven throughout. The sun was glistening through the windows, the gold threads reflecting light across the room bouncing here and there, magically illuminating the darkest shadows. 

The curtains carried the current of the breeze like the breath of life, beginning something big.

    I was the chosen one, hand picked for the King because of my beauty. 

My large almond shaped eyes that the King would fall into for days, lined with a thick black coal. Skin taught and flawless. I smelled of Muhrr, from the farthest regions south ruled by a Sultan, not a King. 

I was just for him. 

    My skirts were made of sheer ivory fabrics loosely attached to a chain that fell low on hips, with little bells that praised my movement. 

    My naked back to him he would have me begin my dance. My arms raised and body still, I picked my hip and the sound of a waterfall filled the room, one side at a time until he was drowning in me and couldn't escape. Then still. One shoulder up and down in circles, arms high and loose, hands dancing with the rest of me. I moved how I wanted. To a rhythm of all my own.

The clinking of my gold bracelets around my ankles vibrated through space and time.

My navel moved separate for my hips, untroubled by what the rest of me was concerned with. 

My belly and hips moved as I controlled them separately and in total. An instrument of mine own.

He feasted at my feet.

 

    He would kiss drops of honey from my belly, suckling at my skin. I knew the way to his heart and soul. I always had something different on the table to feed him. 

A special banquet. 

I was where he could let go and let me have all the control and...

...and he was still and he listened

 My name was Esther. My Tribe called me Hadassah. When I found out the Truth of the harm that would happen to my Family I told the King and saved them to fight another day. Learn my Truth. The story is real.

One day I'll tell you a story

Be still and listen

The Destroyer

*Before you start reading this I must tell you my Mind is something not to get lost in. So pay close attention as you the read the Words.

The Destroyer the 'Book' Series

'The Destroyer' was the first book series my Father gave me to start reading. He wanted me to be engulfed in the written Word. He trained me to stop moving and listen. Listen to what others are saying... listen. My interests as a female are unusual and my Father knows this. I didn't care for the books my mom read. All that romance makes someone imagine that life is something it is not. It's an aggregate mind of mine. Reading is a great way to listen...there is no babel jumbling up thought and getting in the way of the Word. It took a lot of training and teaching to get me to heed. I'm wild aniamal here and I'm still practicing. That's what I say, "I'm practicing something" when someone doesn't understand my motives. I'm over here like a dog seeing a squirrel...I'll run after that shit;). I know I have to focus.  

Chiun: Chiun was from Korea, a Master of Sinanju; The Sun Source. An ancient line of Assassins. He was very old and frail looking. Looks can be deceiving. His method of death was his hands. He was the tool. I also think if he was a real man today he would love the Real Housewives of any city... He was a wise, clean living man.

Remo: He was a cop from Newark, framed for something he didn't do and 'executed'. Remo was brought back from death to save the world.  I shit you not...that is the story in a nut shell but I shall continue anyway...repetition is the key to learning. 

Smith: He wanted something better for the world and had figured out how to fight Evil. The director of Chaos, knowing where to put what, when, and only when it is time. I like to say that watching the sausage being made is not pretty. That's a Truth... The resolve of Good is what Smith was made of.

CURE: A super secret squirrel agency comprising of the three men. The composer, The conductor, and The instrument. If you don't have cogs(?) you don't need to worry about slowing the process of sausage making.

It was all a ploy to work outside of the system. It was a plan for the Good of all. Remo was a smart man with many flaws. No Human is perfect, that's our secret power if you know how to use it, for Good or Evil. Please use it for Good. We have a lot of Evil running amok. He was Shiva reborn. Can you imagine being Shiva..whoooo...thats some heavy shit. You should learn other religions. There are good lessons in everything if you are open to it. 

Master Chiun would train and teach Remo the ropes, as they say. Smith was the giver of assignments. Remo was a man of Human wants and desires...they always get in the way it's our nature, we are part of Nature. The body and mind are incredible specimens when trained correctly and put purpose behind that power and you can be unstoppable. Super Human if you will. They struck down Evil to propagate Good. Rot begets Rot 

 My Father

My Father is a man of Peace, because he knows War. He's seen a lot of stuff.

"Pick your battles", my Father tells me. 

"You can not win every battle." 

"Sometimes you have to go with the flow." 

Not every battle is worth fighting and you have to know that you will lose sometimes. You just have to get back up and fight for what you believe in or know when to let go, walk away...you will learn to fight another day and smarter for it...pay attention to your lessons. 

The everyday battles we choose are often not important. Usually they are misinterpreted moments of feelings we act on. Things we think are injustices, but really not. You can't see the forest because all you can see is the tree. Take a step back. Look at the whole. These sayings exist for a purpose. 

Our Human nature is to struggle when we feel bound. Inside of us all, the Jihad that word is so encompassing and beautiful when used in the correct ways. The outward meaning is different, know when to get up and fight...and what to fight for and when. Which battles we must either engage, or not; know the different tools with which to strike. You fight for Life. You fight for Civil Society against those that want its destruction. 

My Mother and Fathers Garden

My Mother and Father have a big Garden. It takes a lot of work to propagate a Garden and make it fruitful. Hours tending and loving each plant. Making sure they have what they need. Fertilizer, sun, water, dirt. You have to be patient to reap the rewards of what you work on. Things take time to grow. 

Tomato plants and my Fathers philosophy

 When the plants are mature enough he starts pruning.  He knows the fruit will not be nutritious if he doesn't. He is well known in the Family to cut something so far back my Mother worries that nothing will be left. Some of the plants don't survive. They weren't strong enough to know that the challenge of nutrition is that its up to the individual plant to use that what it's been given to use on its own. The nutrition is knowledge, practice, fortitude and the will and the drive to succeed. 

Some will get more sun then others, bugs will live on one plant and not another. Meanwhile my Mother will not accept this bug infestation situation and goes through each plant picking those bugs off. I'm not making this up. It sounds funny but it's very sweet, but not to the bugs. She rubs those bitches out.

My Mothers always gets frustrated pissed off at my dad when he starts pruning the plants. He is a Master pruner culler. 

As they harvest their crop they place all the tomatoes on a large table. They pick them ripe sometimes and others green. It's a fruit than can ripen off the vine. You must be careful and watch them though as they ripen. Some of the tomatoes might get rot it spreads yo, like lies. They throw the rotten ones away asap or they will contaminate the whole bunch. Rot begets rot

Be still and listen

My Father is the Lion that herds the sheep 

Inshallah he keeps napping during the news of the days because my Voice carries. 

Athens Needs YOU

Why is all this happening?

What kind of Pandemic are we really drowning in?

Who is making the rules to contain you? 

Is it big government?

Is it small government?

How many households can meet at once under one roof in your area? (We are at two...as of yesterday....start looking forward in time...snitches be all around) 

What's the reasoning for that restriction? Don't say particles or I'll punch you in the fucking throat.

15 days to flatten the curve still?

Why does the goal post keep moving?

Also who? what? is Athens?

Are they playing a game with your freedom?

Don't sign up here? 

(I really hope Sargon doesn't mind me borrowing this...)

Be still and listen 

Oh...and fuck your mask. My mask is off...what does that even mean?

Superalloys: Communism vs Freedom

An analogy can be used to teach those that learn differently to grasp a concept...

Superalloys: Communism vs Freedom

Problem: Our Country is on fire bitches!

We the People = Atoms

Civil Society = Crystal Structure

Your Country = Alloy

Your County on fire bitches = Heat

Freedom (USA) = Solid Solution

Communism = Precipitation Hardening 

How do you bond a Civil Society when the Country is on fire and you need to withhold the heat? = How do you keep the inter-atomic bonds from breaking apart when individual Atoms are exploding and breaking apart the Crystal Structure and destroying the Alloy?  

How do you stop Civil Society from breaking apart and destroying our Country? = How do you make an Alloy a Superalloy?

We need to super size this Superalloy kids.

Solid Solution or Precipitation Hardening

BAM!  

Communism = Precipitation Hardening 

Precipitation Hardening is the virus of Communism = different phases, slow infiltration of Communism into Civil Society is like a virus. The virus of Communism = Precipitates, the 'thought control', everything is ordered by rank because they, the virus, said so. We the People, Atoms, are scared to do anything accept what told because Civil Society = Crystal Structure has been burned to the ground by the heat. We the People, Atoms, become bloated when heated filling the vacuum created by the destruction of Civil Society. Bloated Atoms make the structure stronger to withhold the heat without a Crystal Structure = No Civil Society...bonded by the ultimate authority of a virus, a mob of thought control = A Superalloy

Different analogy : I'm a mom..."Why?",  "Because I said so. That's why."...then all the little sheep get in line. I have the shirt, my son gave it to me, "Because I said so" -Mom. I might have an inside track on this.

Freedom (USA) = Solid Solution

Solid Solution is bringing in more Atoms to make the bond stronger. You have a group of We the People, Atoms, moving around the Crystal Structure, the rules that keeps them bonded = Civil Society; things in order and going about their business. Think of an invasion into your Civil Society lighting everything on fire and if you don't do something it will burn to the ground. You need all the help you can get from individuals, We the People, Atoms, with different skill sets. Similar to a military formation covering all angles; digital, air, space, sea, and ground, but more. It's a different age, the heat is different then what We the People have ever combated ...think bigger...schools, civic leaders, artists, thinkers, sandwich makers, logistics, scientists, towers and comms. Atoms, We the People, ARE the Civil Society. We must move in tandem to strengthen the bond of Civil Society. All the Atoms, We the People, new and old bond to the Crystal Structure filling in gaps where needed, like a swarm, quashing the fire; making the Alloy, Country, impervious to the heat. The attack on Civil Society will fail =  A Superalloy

Different analogy: Imagine a wolf pack formation on a hunt or on a trek... Weakest goes second to last. Where we go one We go all (I don't mean that in the way you might think. Or do I? That's a funny joke). Strength in numbers. Know your objective. It's Civil Society but it must have teeth and know when to strike...and where. 

Prevent, trap, and divert 

I think that is a shit good time of an analogy.

Judas and The Whore

     I was so young and very beautiful. My hair long and full, brilliant brown; it flowed through the air as I walked like deep waves in the ocean, my hips dancing with the flow. My skin was smooth to the touch, the finish of marble that had been touched so often, almost golden like when you look up in the night sky and blend all the galaxies. My eyes were grey, green, a storm off the horizon with lashes that made camels jealous. 

JUDAS

    Judas hated me. His envy always ate at his soul. It was his to control but hadn't listened hard enough and focused all his strength on this. Only one thing would be able to help him, self control. He grabbed me like he owned me that last night. Nobody owned me. I was the owner. I was the owner of all the truth, I was conscious. Conscious to speak with the leaders and love them, not judge them but guide them. He hated the power he thought I had. It wasn't a power I yielded except in his head. Because if he had my knowledge he would have carried it like a sword falling on the neck of another. I was taught to keep the secrets, to keep the soul safe. He looked on me with disgust, sometimes he would kick sand on me when he walked by. I remember his feet. His left big toe nail was cracked and the yellow of diseased piss.  

PILATE

    He enjoyed it when others saw me come and go. He didn't mind the gawking eyes. If Caesar wouldn't be ashamed then why should he. That strength was comforting, not caring what others thought. His soul was tortured with dashed hopes. It never made sense to me. He had everything he needed and more; he had things he wanted. 

    He knew I loved dates, big, thick juicy and sweet ones. I could only eat one though. There was inevitably a bowl there for me to have, he got them in ways I hated at times. I always knew. I always heard of the sacrifices. They were just for me to do with as I desired. I never let that bowl go to waste. I took them all. Every. Time. He knew I didn't take them for myself. My pockets would flow over with treats for the children as I left. I waited till I was out of town to hand them out.  

    He wasn't how history portrayed him. His truth was pain of not having the ability to hold the mob back because he played by the rules. Command and rules managed Pilate. The women that didn't know me hated me. They were the mob. They were full of spite and self loathing. They projected their ugliness on me. 

    ...He liked me in the afternoon when people would hide under fronds from the heat of the sun. A mid-afternoon taste sometimes and others we lay making sure our skin touched, his fingers traced my waist and hip, back and forth. Slow, methodically, with purpose. His touch lighting a fire deep in me. He would confide in me his worries and ask for the thoughts of the people. When he held me it was disciplined and tame. He would take my hair and his fingers ran through it. He held my head back and kissed my neck letting his tongue savor my salty skin, with tenderness you wouldn't have expected. He was never forceful but he was always determined. Pilate's virility was always at stake either on top of me or with the sword. It was in him. He was a warrior; a fighter, and a thoughtful. 

    Men were different then. The hierarchy was basal at times. The blood guard strolled down the stone streets like they owned them. Their job was to have a purpose like the rest of the people around me. Let them be weavers, beggars, or scribes...everyone needs a purpose. There was an understanding with some of us. There were deliberate and sensitive conversations we had huddled, we were always wary. 

    Pilate knew what we were doing the whole time and believed in our message. He welcomed it. He just didn't have the steadfastness we would need. Or he had the amount he was supposed too.

THE SANHEDRIN

    That last night when Judas grabbed me...I wasn't physically strong, that's what the men are for...the strength of physical. He said he wanted to talk alone and I agreed. We walked away from the light of the fire and safety. He put his anemic hands on my shoulders and pushed me into the dirt. I landed on my hands. Bits of rocks cut in to my palms. He drove my face into the earth. Sand in my mouth, I tasted metal. It was just blood. He came behind me, heaved my hair towards him. I was his dog. He pulled my skirt and injected himself into me with ever molecule of hate he could muster. I fought him as much as I could. I yelled and screamed for help. It was just physical, that I could over come, the humility though...I thought that was bad. I was only human. We were all only human. All of us. One of the Sanhedrin were near by, heard me and came trotting as fast as his legs would move. I wish he hadn't. He saw what Judas was doing. There could be no denial. There were no thirty pieces of silver. 

The price would be my Love. My true Love. 

None of us imagined what would come next...

MARY

    My name was Mary then. I'm called many names through time. I was a whore in their church and I was their true love. Their love was power over others.

One day I'll tell you a story. 

Be still and listen

The Dupery that is Multiculturalism

*I wrote this a few years ago when Obama was President. 

There is out cry from the left about being inclusive and respecting other peoples culture...and don't say America is a melting pot because that's mean...and takes away individualism(?).

Unintended offensive behavior is what you should be scared of- no joke.
The leftist agenda 'hate' speech police are looking for you. '1984' anyone?
I'm not sure what I consider hate speech. I'm quite frightened what a leftist would consider 'hate speech'. This blog could be considered hateful because I tell the truth.

The old saying, "Sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me." is more of what we need.
'We need more Walker Texas Ranger and less Dr Quinn Medicine Woman.'- Step Brothers
Teaching your children to have some intestinal fortitude and know that if someone calls them a name it actually doesn't mean anything unless they want it to. Don't do the ol' 'break a plate on the floor...now say sorry to all the pieces. Did it magically fix itself? No...see sorry doesn't help. It's a fucking plate. Stop raising pussies. Yeah that's right...I said it and I mean it.
Did it hurt your feelings?
YOU choose your feelings.
YOU get to choose to be happy, sad, pissed..all of them. That is a choice. Feelings are choices.
You don't have to like it. The truth is never comfortable for those in denial.
You choose how you react to external situations...even internal ones. (I'm not talking about people with mental disorders or suffering from depression.)
Anywho...that was a rant and has a bit to do with you being duped about the greatness (and also the hypocrisy the left advocates) that is multiculturalism .
....as for your feelings..I don't care about your feelings.

As an American and child of this world I love the USA. I also love things that are Moroccan. I love 'Persian' (that's what Iranians that are embarrassed of Iran call themselves) things and Japanese.
One of the most fabulous things about this planet is that we are all not the same. We come from different backgrounds and cultures. That is beautiful to me...just as long as your culture doesn't want to in-slave me, kill me (or you). (Capitalism frees you to succeed, or fail. Socialism in-slaves and takes your freedom.)
It's also one of the beauties that makes the USA so great...because our forefathers created a country that people of other cultures could integrate into society and in turn society vacuumed up their wonderful culture and made it their own.

Food is a perfect example of the USA absorbing LEGAL immigrants culture...
Pizza, 'American' Chinese food, tacos..see what I'm saying? Those are American to Americans. Yeah, yeah...originally they came from somewhere else but we made them our own.
An alluring melting pot. With that melting pot takes integration and ...assimilation! That's such a mean word. Don't worry I still see you as a special individual...just that for society to work well you have to have some kind of assimilation or you have anarchy.

The left doesn't like the big bad USA. I'm not sure why. Our own President (Obama) apologized for us being so awesome. I'm not sorry we are incredible. Our melting pot is one of the main reasons we are so incredible.
I also think Germany is great. ...and Japan. ...and England. -all three countries have atrocious pasts. You don't hear the left slamming them at every chance. Think about that hypocrisy.
 I also love that their culture is different...
...and theirs.
Hear what I'm saying? It's ok that we are different except the left wants us all to be different and the same at the same time...

There has been a mass migration of refugees from the Middle East. The majority of immigrants which are Muslims. The left would have you believe they are all peaceful and all refugees. They aren't. Please also don't point out that which I know to be true and factual as false for I will bury you.

Respect others opinions

The Storm Witch

Do you wonder if the human race is redeemable? 

I'm searching. 

I'm watching in live time the destruction of families and individuality all in the name of collectivism. We all know that collectivism does not work. It's been proven over and over. How many lessons are needed? Human nature will not allow it. You were not made in the image of a group. You were made an individual with free thoughts and free will in our Mother and Fathers image.  

You all thought it was one thing, one idea; One truth. 

The truth is YOU. It's right there by what ever name you give it.

I stand in front of you as the truth and I feel despair for all of you. 

The old men picked at the words of the wise and changed them to fit themselves. 

I am the trinity of Me, Myself and I. The Maiden, The Mother and The Crone. The Truth, The Light and The Dark.

I am the Storm Witch.

I travel through the heavens above and have since the beginning of all time. I see all you do.

You will not control me.

You will not control the Earth as it was made.

The Sea is mine and you will drown in my tears I have shed for you.

When I put war paint on; it will be Your war. 

It will be for the World. 

It will be for everyone to see. 

For I am the Standard. 

They will burn the Standard down and I will rise from the depths of death and bring you home. 

My Finnish Grandfathers Death

My Grandpa was a typical low income American from immigrants living in New England. I'm under the impression they were from the Finnish/Russian border area. You can do the math on that one concerning my anti communism stance, "for I know evil when it is before me". 

They called him Patchy because he was from The Patch. His birth name was Berthel Ragnar. He was a very handsome man. I look almost exactly like him but a female, and I hope a way more attractive version. The jaw, the beady eyes, the pretty good skin, and the most excellent strong cheek bones. All of which I did not choose. That is not a proposition of life.

My father grew up in a tenet house in a factory town in Massachusetts (thank you spell check). The town had a grey tint to it, the grass, the sky...all the time. I think it was despair. His father was an alcoholic that would disappear for days and weeks...I've even heard months. My father didn't tell me this...I was just listening when everyone else thought I was talking. I didn't hear much bad talk, it was mostly how much he loved his grandchildren, particularly my older sister with her locks of golden hair. Mine was always dirt brown and stringy. I don't remember this grandpa well. I remember when he died though...or was very sick and looking through to deaths door. He died of cancer...you have to whisper that word in a factory town. 

We were living in Seeb, Oman. I think it was around 1978...?

The phone wasn't used often; and my mom was on the phone a lot I had noticed. It wasn't cheap to call long distance back in the day. (Holy shit I have to say back in the day and actually mean it.) You didn't have a chance to talk to your family much...you wrote letters bitches. There was a desk to the right of the door to the hallway outside, on our very shiny terrazzo floors . They were ivory white with bits of black, and grey with tiny sand colour sprinkled throughout (that terrazzo floor is a story unto itself). The phone was on the right of the desk and to the left was a stack of air plane tickets to be filed out. We were different then normal people...because my father worked for Pan Am and Pan Am was kick ass. 

When we would go back to the States it was always an event. Traveling always meant, best manners, best behavior and a lovely hop to Bahrain on Gulf Air. Gulf Air hops were always worrisome for me more so than the 727's and on an awesome trip...the 747's. Their aircraft were small and always felt rickety. The siding inside would shake and rattle and not just during take off and landings. The orange juice was really tang and I hate tang. You also had to know where all the exits were, how to open the plane door and what to do in case of a hijacking. We always had to be aware of our surroundings. There were wars literally to the left and to right of us, Dofar and, well all that Iran shizzle and all the other lovely events that seem to have happened since the beginning of time...and never, ever, wear polyester because it will melt to your skin in a fire. 

To add on to travel fun for parents of 4 lovely children, when we arrived in New York, before deregulation, you had to switch airports coming and going. One for International travel (Newark?) and the other for domestic (LaGuardia?). 

"Taxi!" My dad would yell as we all lined up with suitcases inside suitcases. On the way home they would be filled to the brim with hubba bubba and new clothes...and anything else someone might have needed for us to pick up. My dad hated/hates New York and worse the drivers, he didn't swear in front of us girls and if ever did he still says, "Excuse my French." My mom on the other hand swears like a sailor thats been out to sea too long. Oh wait that's me, I just get it from her. I liked it when we would get one of the old taxies with the doors that opened in opposite directions. I still feel at home most amongst old things. I think it's in my blood.  

My first ex husband wrote a paper for his Masters on air line deregulation so I know almost everything from every angle on it to an absurd point. I'm hearing while you all think I'm talking yo;). 

I don't recall where we always stayed when we would go back east, if it was Mrs. Balls house or not, but I do remember something of the sort. Mrs. Balls house was an old wine coloured Victorian on Chestnut Street, the light shined a bit brighter there. She was nice to me. She rented out rooms, like the Forrest Gump story but completely different. There were stairs when you came in the house, nothing grand and palatial, but had a great sliding rail. Up the stairs was a hallway and three doors; heavy, dark wood sturdy doors. We would go to the one on the right, I think. I spent most my time outside playing super heroes, I was always Storm or Wonder Woman, or in the kitchens. Inside stuff was boring. We weren't allowed to be bored. Only uninteresting people allow themselves listlessness.

This would be a different time though. There was no travel for the 4 of us kids. My brothers went to The Rodgers, Carol and Mr. Rodgers and my sister and I packed a small bag each and headed to the Batstones. It was like a vacation to me. I didn't care if I slept on the floor. I loved staying with them. Mr. Batstone was the 'Weather' man, he would call me his little white witch. White witches control the storms. Mrs. Batstone had to stitch me up a few times, she was a legit nurse. She was one of my moms best friends in the whole wide world. ( I think there are only two for my mom. She's blessed to have had them and I am too because I got to have them in my life for a time as well). I think she was one of the Sultans nurses, maybe that's a story I made up though. They had two kids, Charles and Rachel. I looked up to Charles, he was good friends with my older brother. Rachel was way cooler and a year or two older than me and friends with my sister. I was just a little kid that was always climbing and falling and spying and talking. I've had so many stitches I've lost count. They used to called me scarface. The scars have faded with time. 

I didn't miss my grandfather after he left us, I didn't really know him.

"Every thing dies."

...and I was young and busy.

 

This is an adults perspective of a child's life events. Memories morph from a child's perspective to an adults perspective. Some of my accounting is wrong. I'm sure of it...memories blend with memories and we create that which we want to see so the past will fit our today. This is a tenet of my life.

 

Catharsis

A while back the earth shook beneath my feet and not just once. 

I was fat and happy as they say and then I wasn't. Or maybe I just thought I had been.

(As you read know I'm fine now.)

I became ill. 

I have vertigo and fall to the right. Always to the right; it can be disconcerting.

I forgot how to cook and organize. I forgot how to time manage.

I lost 50lbs in 3 months. 

My eyes couldn't handle the light. No, it wasn't a migraine. It was just my eyes.

I can hear the electricity and sometimes have to unplug things because it's such an irritating sound. I have super hearing, always have it just got worse...or better.

I was very frightened. 

It was my stress and anxiety manifesting physically in me.

I had been tip toeing around shards of glass unsure of every step.

Chaos manages me whether I like it or not. With all the grace I can muster I must manage my chaos. I'm lacking in the grace department. (That is a joke.)

When I stand naked in front of you for you to see my flaws I am most free; in turn I hope to free you from being alone. We are only human. To be human is great. It is also a great responsibility.

On a normal regular day I'm like a macro dose of Ayahuasca to those around me.

Fires should be stared at. Bowls of water for gazing. 

Introspection should take you to the deepest fathoms of your soul...and I hope I've transported others to places they could never have imagined, brought comfort when need and acceptance when others shun.

I can't hide my feelings if I'm sad, angry or happy. 

The truth of me is easy to see. 

I speak out loud. I live out loud. I question everything. I see the beauty in all. I also see the pain. There is no light if there is no darkness.

I believe in the grounding and the spirit flight. Call me crazy but I know I'm blessed even when my life is out of control. I control me.

Why do I worry? Because somebody has too. The future matters. The Authorities on Earth aren't doing a good job. I don't know if you've noticed. I'm talking about the WHOLE world. People are hysterical and need real guidance not control.

I did not use the word Leaders, I specifically use the word Authorities.

We need leaders not manipulators. 

I'm a believer in Chaos theory and it works for me. For in chaos there is order. 

If you are Atlas, and I know you are, please don't shrug.

I'm not rebellious but man will not govern me for I am conscious. This is a tenet of my life

The Gift of Forgiveness

One of the blessings of humanity is the gift of forgiveness. Forgiveness is hardest for ourselves because we often can't move beyond our own doings. 

The soldier that has to deal with the death... whom do they blame? 

The addict that fought their way out of an abyss, but after they see the light, then they look back and say, "Oh no what have I done?" Who do they blame? 

Convicted felons live forever with their crimes, literally, just as the victims. How long do you continue to be a victim? 

The border lines between many countries have often been drawn by those with no interests other than their own. It was done so long ago it's only remembered in stories from our Fathers. The people that live on one side are mad at the other, for things neither had anything to do. 

The Children of Earth shoulder the blame of the past and carry falsely the burdens of others long dead.

Responsibility for ones actions is key to forgiveness; actual real personal responsibility, but to know it you must accept it in yourself first. None of us is perfect. 

We must leave room for learning and forgiveness...for ourselves and others. 

Some people are stuck in an eternal loop of a hell of their own making. 

Where do you put the blame? 

All the while the answer was inside themselves.  

Personal responsibility for one's own actions is often the hardest to accept. 

To blame no one...but to just love. 

Blame is one of the children of hate. 

What kind of future are you making for the children of love and peace?

It's only your true self that can forgive and not blame.  

The swaths of humans on this planet Earth have not been here long. 

We have only begun. 

To understand, and most importantly accept we are just animals that must coincide together in a symbiotic relationship with all this dirt, metal, bears, and virus. 

We have no choice. We do have a choice how we walk forward in to the future. Only the past you can't control.

The good and bad is in all of us. 

I know this to be true, this is part of my tenet of life. 

We choose to be good. 

We choose to be bad. 

We choose to be happy. 

We choose to be sad.

Our life is under our control, even if just bits of it. 

We must as a people (humans as a whole) forgive. 

When the tribes of the people can stand up and say no the petulant blame we have the best chance to move forward. 

The truth of horror that happened to someones grandfather is real. 

Forgiveness lives in each one of us; it's you that are in charge of it. 

Ownership of individual choices is key to your personal happiness but to get there you must forgive.

It's a beautiful feeling when we can own the good things. 

In the depths of the hell of our own bad choices.

 

God lives in us. When we ask God for forgiveness if we aren't truthful God knows it. 

God lives in all of us. 

We our own God, or devil of our choices.

We've lost religion and with it guidance.

It's right here 

Waiting for you 

Be still and listen