C.S.Lewis’ ‘Winged Horse‘, re-wiring the way I look at Renewals:
worn out earth route replaced by sky map – wings; brain fatigue, taken on by new oxygen!
Who said anything against that, Bro, take a walk in the direction of newnesses. “Racham” Love beyond Love. I found that in a Hebrew Translation of the Love of God, beyond parallel. Love like that speaks to worn out sinews of humanity; to its war-birthed monsters of chaos. Ay, Racham, a Love that breathes into my empty spaces that would other wise fill with death.
The bird was there waiting, asking to be noticed. I stood staring at him against that blue sky and early moon all stark naked Reminders that Life went beyond gravity!
Ramona was buried yesterday;
Pic from our terrace
her husband and two sons stood tall by her grave: on Zoom it was surreal. A Mumbai cemetery rich with songs we sang as kids, about the Risen Savior, & oh where was death’s sting?! Ramona’s warm brown eyes and soft skin seemed closer, her easy laughter, subtle jewellry and gentle lip gloss mouthing words of love for Christ. We hadn’t met in years: but her passing brings me closer to the Reality of what the Cross does for us, 24x7xn! I’m feeling many Seasons in one, but especially Summer: warm like the embrace of the Father in a Time of fear, His Gospel of Peace.
Death is demanding.
It is not silent. It is an open conversation with what opposes Peace. It breaks us, it seals us to the ‘Unknown’. And we can turn our faces to all our walls all we want, but nothing buries Life. Love. Joy. The invisible presence of That. Of turning away from sin. Of repenting, and letting us be re- created in Christ. That Peace with God in Christ, is Peace.
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One of the last times I met Ramona we were at a beach; it was dusk on a busy shore. I don’t remember that we spoke many words, but what she and I utterly had in common was Christ:
the Christ Who found us in different rooms, in different differences, bridging barriers, crashing statements, limits.
Dusk, Bangalore
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How does one describe a place where Gravity does not exist, where Peace is no longer just a temporary Live-in partnership;
how do I bare my heart, except say it like it is:
The Cross doesn’t crucify me, it BARES MY SIN, THEN bears IT. The Cross shuts up satan: his War against our absolute eternal fulfillmenT.
OUR PEACE! THIS IS THE GOSPEL OF PEACE.
The mark of Christ is nothing like the beasts’:
Christ freeing you & me from short term satisfactions: Quick Fixes, begging for more. Not just blank-eyed druggies’, but Humanity altered by self abuse, by others’.
I was once confronted by a Nun(school principal) on why I followed Christ. You did not mess with Mother Grace, and as she looked in my face for a reply I said what had happened. “No one else came here looking for me…. “
Pic Courtesy Justin George
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Eternity pursues me, there’s a Name on It. Christ’s. There’s a Heaven even among us when we reflect True Love. And there’s a Hell horrific and more as the ones we rehearse on earth: of the worship of cravings. Every Dance, is arms reaching for the Invisible Partnership we know deep within, exists.
Deep inside we hunger for the One Who speaks in us ceaselessly: the dialect of a waiting Father.
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When I was carrying our first child, this horrific incident with the vegetable cart man happened:
one morning he was in the ground under the row of eucalyptus trees, writhing like a snake, a death rattle sound in his throat, it filled the entire noon; the man’s white shirt and pants, always spotless but not on that day. My mother asked me not to look. An expectant mother best not see such things, she said. But this was Ramu our friendly veggie man. They were getting someone to exorcise him, and it took till past 4 pm; a week later I met Ramu, now he was half his size.
Evil itself reveals the very presence of God, not one appeased by sacrifices. He is Light (we are all yet to be able to even look at Its lesser form: the sun):
He Who is Love, of Peace, Joy: three things satan cannot stand, leave alone claiming our Place by the blood of Jesus Christ His Son. Try it.
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But Ugh:
the incredible Power of Doubt: it can derail us totally.
Why consume the deadly whispers of satan when we have Christ’s Words that can do ALL for us? If we only knew the extent of This here.
Eternity is Real, and I am encouraged today to make it a huge part of my daily schedule. Yea Ramona, death has no sting, the grave no victory.
Christ took that.
Every flower is an Unburdening to the Light: every shadow clings to It. Every Leaf drinks Its Dew. We breathe to His Breath. Where does our breath go when spirit leaves?
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With Him it is Eternal DaySpring.
FMF Writers: this went beyond 15! (‘Summer‘ and what the Word stoked). Thank you my fabulous creative friends.
I always look forward to this Prompt from Friday Five minuters, look forward to it with a relish I knew growing up with tonsillitis and was allowed ice cream only on sacred times of wellbeing! Ah well. Thankyou FMF writers, for keeping me in touch with words,mine & yours. Life gets hectic- beautiful yes, hazardous often in these days of virus and co., but creation never stopped. Sam my musician friend’s beard has gotten longer. Binda seems to heal from cancer, our friendly neighborhood pigeon gets bolder by the day, the children are taller, the sky feels more velvet, yesterday I caught a few drops of rain- it was cool and quenching in my skin, this morning I could not wake up the 5 am I usually do for my morning Quiet, but I kneeled within, in my heart, in bed, cushioning my spirit in Him, as He re- created me for a brand new day. Still in bed I open mail from FMF, and blog. Something I’ve done only twice. Blogging before brushing my teeth. Its a different odd feeling. Like breaking a rule, like smiling with your mouth closed? Maybe. Blogging is a whole cave of possibilities in a beach full of pirates, hehe. I see the world differently horizontally : the Word Observant hauls up sensitivities to look at life with new perspective: as a Server, a Waiter of creativity. A servant of It. Not obstruct its way. Not mess with its Maker, not shut eyes to the possibilities of the day. Here I want to haul self up and stare at the things waiting today:Wait. Ask. Pray. Serve as I watch, observe our Creator’s pathways in my day.
That line 👆 has been with me 3 weeks now. I wake up to sit in star-shade by our potted grapevine that snuggles baby pigeon twins: it is quiet, so quiet you could hear us breathe.
Sophia- the world’s first Robot citizen.
Times like these, it arrives with a Noise-
that we are Created:
the lot of us- kings, priests, fugitives, the dying, breathing, the reviven. I like that word : Reviven. (People do make up new words: check this from last year. So, this is my own word, unless someone’s beaten me to it and I’ve no clue😄!)..
it is in effect, making our own moment, we crash rigidity, we step down into cellars ‘neath our feet…..places we once knew existed, when we were unaffected by things we cannot physically see.
My puppet collection
Ach.
We are not puppets, we have freewill, the power of choice, we own soul and incredible powers to make/ break each other. I am blown away by our ‘400,000 species of plant life’, leave alone secrets in DNA or a Robot named Sophia.
I do not understand Rape either, its dehumanization ; or even how it feels to be an Executioner, however just the cause..
… besides all of the above,
what on earth are ‘ghost particles’ surfacing from inner earth?
My gran Tara would’ve hooted with joy, “Finally we have discovered hell!”
I’ve taken after her I know. We are both Encountees of the Divine, we shush no-God theories. It’s our Doxa! We pray in the stars, we pray over meals, in traffic jams, over news headlines and politicians splitting hairs, tails, we are all extensions of each other! So I pray for border countries unashamed by raised brows. Hey, if you’ve hung around MRIs and Cat scans long enough, you’ve lost some dignity, you don’t care who says what about which.
Last year I recovered from a serious heart condition and got home as if nothing happened. Yeah, miracle. From the womb of Heaven. I vowed at the hemline of God, oh Trouser hem if you will…. that if I outlived that ordeal, I’d blog, I’d blig about it, everything under that category.
We die alone, we live alone really- we lean heavily on each other and sibling and spouse but truly it’s a life about Givery– as in Giving. All the fuss about proving Eden wrong? It pales next to our screaming need to know we are inimitable.
Ofcourse,
phosphorus! Always suspected the PH of fish was crucial to our existence. How star studies reveal that, is a good thing.
I look deep in the sky when I can and there they are: Scripture writ with bold hand across the sky. Sometimes I get a loveletter in cloud- tone dialects that go, “When one feels low, they must get some fish. To fry, or to curry.”
On occasion a P.S. “…works even when you’re in a good mood.”
So while we stare at fish ponds & the news, while some run out food and survival, I’m thinking on how tough it is for us to remember we did not make ourselves. (The mysteries of human construction are the biggest news there will ever be about us…)
As I post this I’m wrapping myself around a question :
aren’t you too often startled at how infinitesimally puny our ‘problems’ are in comparison to our Source… the DNA of One who ‘doesn’t exist’…
which very Insistence qualifies Him?
‘Poems are written by fools like me but only God can make a tree..’ KIPLING
Innerdialects 
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