Wednesday, November 29, 2017

Here Come The Bad Guys



A note to our Readers regarding the ‘new’ Characters who will soon be showing up in the short stories of SONG: 

You know how I’ve often told you to look for yourselves among our Characters because it is you, the people of today’s world, who are the living Characters on whom the fictional ones are based? Do not look for yourselves among this new batch because you will not be there. The Readers of SONG are not the sort of folk to be found there … and it is not for them that SONG is written, but for YOU.

If by chance you are one of those others who think you might find your own representation in the followers of Aduan, the ‘bad guys’ of SONG, know that you may well run across somebody who reminds you of yourself in some ways. But know also that you will not search for long, because you will not want to look further. We’re fine with that, because it is not you for whom these stories are written in the first place. We already know that you will not like what you find in them; you aren’t supposed to like it.

People of Peace we and our Characters may be – but there are hate-filled folk in the world who do not find the concept of Peace the least bit appealing. If you are among those folk, SONG is not for you. The battles of SONG are fought at times against naturally occurring events and the aftermath. More often they are fought against intolerance; against subjugation of women (or anyone else); against anyone who would restrict the freedom to choose one’s own life-path and follow it; against violent aggression aimed at innocent populations marked for ‘submission’; against individuals who have no qualms at all about seeking to destroy the life of another by any available means; against those who would deny the sanctity of the Holy Trinity in Its true form; against any and all who seek to harm others for malicious reasons.

Hiding our faces from those who follow the above path is not the way of our Characters, or of we ourselves. At times, yes, prudence dictates strategic retreats. But there is always a line beyond which our Characters, and their representatives in today’s world, will not be pushed. Harm none and you are safe among us. Raise your fist or a weapon against any innocent one, and all bets are off. Our Characters are in general an easy-going lot. Almost anything goes and everyone’s rights are equally respected – but nobody has the right to attack the equal rights of others. If/when that point needs to be made, it will be made by the Characters of SONG – past, present, and future.

So here is the line drawn.


Readers, you will find your own self among the Characters we have already met (but for Aduan). 

We are about to introduce the ‘bad guys’. 

Do not look for yourselves among them. 

You’re not there.



Wednesday, November 8, 2017

ANCIENT SYMBOL IS PHI SPIRAL




This symbol represents the concept of Creation, Life, Death, Eternity. It is a symbol for the part of the Song of the Holy Trinity that is Sung (generally) by the Voice of Danann of Dunnottar.
More specifically, it is a PHI Spiral symbol and has been around since who even knows when. It is found in the earliest 'art' of humankind. Odd that, some may think, because we're only just now unveiling some of the mysteries connected to the science behind it.
The Spiral is literally ubiquitous - it is maybe the fundamental LAW that defines and maintains our entire world. A friend of mine uses the word 'fractals' and as it suits I'll try to explain it to you. A fractal is a small part of a bigger whole that, in and of itself, is identical to that bigger whole. At least that's the way I understand it. Keep that in the back of your mind.
It's become clear that everything in our world, the things we know and those we don't yet know, are all - ALL - comprised of Energy. Energy, which can be neither created nor destroyed, which 'definition' also just so happens to apply to God, the Creator, which may or may not be coincidence. Be that as it may be, Energy is eternal with no beginning and no end, and it is continually changing forms - from waves to particles and back again.
Then there's this phenomenon called entanglement. Einstein referred to it as 'spooky action at a distance' and wouldn't even 'go there'. Since his time people have 'gone there' and confirmed it. Entanglement is when two bits (electrons in the case of the experiments) of the same substance (e.g. the same atom) are separated by a distance, and even the minuscule amount of energy generated by the simple act of observing ONE of the electrons causes it to reverse its rotation, causes a simultaneous reversal of rotation in the OTHER one, although it is far away and not being observed (only electronically monitored). The two, having once been part of a larger whole, are permanently entangled. What affects one affects the other.
Going back to Energy for a moment, we know that it makes up Everything, including of course our little electrons that were snagged from the same atom. Over the course of Eternity past, present, and future, Energy has been, is, and will be Everything. Over the course of Eternity, the forms taken by Energy have absolutely NO limits to the ways they can combine, separate, recombine. Those two little electrons, their Energy, may well have been entangled from ANY part of Eternity, not necessarily just connected via the particular atom they were removed from for experimental purposes. Maybe at one time they were part of an atom in a cell of a mammoth, or a dinosaur, or a meteor, or anything else we can think of. In between they may have been Energy in wave form rather than particle form. We have no way of knowing, at least not yet.
Returning to fractals: every bit of the Energy in our world is a fractal of the all-encompassing design of the Spiral. That design is THE design of Everything. No matter how small we seek to discover, no matter how far we range into space ... the pattern simply repeats and repeats and repeats. Energy ALWAYS adheres to the perfect balance of the Spiral, no matter what, no matter when, no matter where. Everything is a fractal of the larger design pattern. Regardless of how different our perception of specific items are, they are bottom line identical, made up of Energy and adhering to the design of the Spiral - which we identify as Phi - 1.618... And the Spiral is made up of triangles, always, always, always. Which, again, brings us full circle, so to speak, back to God, the Holy Trinity, and to all of the more ancient belief systems that incorporated triangles into their teachings, the triangle frequently representing 'female'.
And we're only just now beginning to grasp the whole concept involved here.
How in the world does a symbol representing such complex (to us) concepts come to be so very ancient?
As for the line running through the center of the symbol, I reckon it's likely there for a good reason, probably to keep the whole thing in balance. I've made scores if not hundreds of spirals out of all kinds of stuff. Only recently have I begun trying to incorporate the 'Phi Line' into them, but I'm discovering that it is a stabilizing force that keeps the spiral from sproinging or unwinding. Ancient spirals abound around the globe, and that 'Phi Line' is present in many of them although not all.
Speculation continues as to the meanings or interpretations of the ancient symbols, and I think that a lot of them are probably 'right' even though they may not seem to agree with each other. Over the course of time, different 'meanings' may well have been ascribed to the same symbol, so that symbol may have been used in different ways. We flat don't know.
What we DO know is that they're ancient, and everywhere. Cultures all over the place, at different times, at the same times, with connections, without connections that anyone can identify ... so what is it about the Spiral, the PHI Spiral, that resonates and has resonated over a time span longer than we can wrap our heads around?
This symbol represents Mystery and at the same time the solving of all Mystery ... if we can only just unlock its secrets.

Tuesday, November 7, 2017

A WHAT In Every Pulpit!?! - wild west story for SONG : What Are We Going To Do About It?

Politically incorrect but I don't care. I know I'm not the only one. Here's a story that technically belongs to the time of the Younglings, America's Wild West. Our story line isn't there yet but this one wasn't going to wait. So here it is: 

What Are We Going To Do About It?

‘What are we going to do about it?’
Dothann looks at his gathered kin and sees sparks glowing in the eyes he meets.
They are gathered at the hearth of the small parsonage he shares with his little red-headed left-handed wife Rua. Their relatives kind of crowd the little room and there are only chairs for the three elders, but Mamm herself has called this family meeting so everyone’s here.
‘We’re going to put a stop to it, that’s what we’re going to do,’ says his tall blonde aunt Sass, the sparks in her eyes growing more pronounced as they turn from a dusky green to pale blue.
‘How?’
‘You, my too-smart-for-your-own-good nephew, are going to go a-visiting. All of the churches in the vicinity are going to invite you to come speak the Word for their folk, and you are going to go Speak it for them.’
‘Well … okay, I can do that if they invite me. What message am I going to preach?’
Caileen, the aunt with coppery gold eyes and coppery gold streaks in her long thick brown hair, answers.
‘What are we all about, Dothann?’
‘Peace.’
‘Then you’re going to preach Peace.’
‘Well, and what good is that going to do, Caileen? The church folk are already peaceful. It’s the ones who keep trying to shoot them all who need to hear the Word.’
‘Oh, they’ll hear it,’ says yet a third aunt. Aine is a mite of a woman but the bright blue eyes of her are sparking mad at the moment. She is dressed in worn buckskin and has a small rifle slung on her back. 
She squints her sparking eyes at Dothann.
‘You just do what you have to do when you have to do it. We’ll take care of the rest.’
Dothann gives his gathered kinfolk another look, more suspicious this time.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘The same thing you are. What we have to do when we have to do it. In our own way.’
Aine’s husband Kalann has been out in the sun for years, only coming inside when he has to cook something. He is swarthy from the elements so from a distance he’s often taken for a native of this area as he has long dark hair and big dark eyes. Being Aine’s husband, and bowing to the wisdom of his wife when it comes to comfort clothes, he too is dressed in buckskin, but his rifle is much longer. It’s taller than his wife is. He now uses it as a prop for an elbow.
‘Dothann, we have a job to do, just like you and the other pastors do. You guys are supposed to be shepherding your flocks, right? Well, we are part of those flocks, aren’t we? So you go ahead and do some shepherding. We will be your sheep dogs. There are wolves and coyotes out there, you know. And some snakes.’
‘Oh.’
Dark-haired Alianora and Drustann step up in front of their son. This pair is more traditionally dressed for the time and the place. Alianora’s purple plaid dress tucks in around her slim waist and sweeps the floor at her feet. Drustann’s dapper dark blue suit almost but not quite matches the deep violet-blue of his eyes, now filled with concern along with the sparks he’s trying to keep in check.
‘Dothann, none of us expected yours to end up being the most dangerous job of any. We all thought that you at least would be safe. Danann and Sidhelagh, at their ages, riding shotgun for the stages made us all more than a little worried. Your mother and I have the bank, which isn’t exactly safe with these outlaws wreaking havoc all the time. Your aunts and uncles’ ranches are always at risk of cow-thieves, and the businesses your cousins own could be robbed at any time. We came West looking for peace but have instead found ourselves in the midst of constant danger. Even you and Rua, it seems. This gang has it in for our churches for some reason. It’s time to stop them once and for all.’
‘How are you going to do that, father? They’ve hit four already, and killed most of those congregations, and their pastors. We all know what they can do – we’ve been called to clean up after them. I don’t know how many more funerals I can cope with.’
Dothann’s dark eyes have no sparks in them. They are drowned in tears for those whose lives have been taken and for the families and friends left behind. Beside him, Rua’s little hand slips into his. Her bright blue eyes are brighter than ever with the tears she will not allow to fall.
The typical exuberant energy of this pair has been sorely damaged.
Now Danann stands to his full height, and he’s a big tall man, strongly muscled. Grandfather to Dothann and the others of that generation, Danann is, despite his years, in the prime of his power.
‘The invitations are already on their way, Dothann. Your first is for this coming Sunday and I’ve already accepted on your behalf. Sidhelagh and I have been passing the word along the stage lines for a while now, letting folk know what’s been going on here in our little area of west Kansas. Everyone has been taking it to their hometowns and to wherever they go for business or visiting. I’m afraid you’ll have to take the train to get to some of those places but people will be expecting you.’
‘What about mine own people, Danann? Who will look out for them if Rua and I are gone all the time?’
‘Oh,’ says cousin Diann, who is a doctor. ‘We will. They’ve already got a schedule drawn up. I’m first; then Corrbed even though the kids see him in school every day all week; then Brann. We’re supposed to take turns, according to the committee.’
‘Committee? What committee? How come this is the first I’ve heard about all this?’
‘Well …,’ says Brann, ‘you’ve been busy so we just sort of got it all put together for you.’
‘Oh.’
‘It will be all right, Dothann. I tell you true. It will be all right. We’ll take care of our own here, and you and the others will go out there and take care of everyone else.’
‘Others? What others?’
The family stands up, tall and short, and straightens backs and shoulders.
‘Us.’
Sidhelagh and Mamm stand to either side of tall Danann. The trio would look comical but for the ferocity in the eyes of the two small but powerful women.
The family rings the room.
Alianora and Drustann; Sass and her husband Thann; Caileen and her husband Talorc; Aine and Kalann; the cousins Merri, Diann, Corrbed, and Brann … with little Dothann and Rua centered in the circle.
And so it begins.
‘What about you, Merri? You’re sheriff here, remember?’
‘I have deputies. I’m going with you and Rua, Dothann. The others are going to accept, on your behalf, invitations from as many communities as we can cover. There are a lot of churches out here, in case you didn’t notice. We’ll go in pairs, except Mamm will come with the three of us. We don’t know what’s driving this gang, but they seem to have a big hate, and we don’t know where they’ll hit next so we’re going to fan out. I don’t think there’s all that many of them, to be honest, but I think they’re recruiting local folk, and they’re brutal. So we’re going to go out there, find them, collect them up, and preach them some Love and Peace in a language they can understand.’
‘I’m not sure I approve.’
‘You don’t have to approve. We’ve been praying about it for weeks, Dothann. This is what has come to us, each and all, and finally Mamm called us together to discuss it. That’s when we found out we’d all been getting the same message while we prayed. It will be all right. We just have to do what we have to do when we have to do it Dothann, same as always.’
‘What are we going to tell people?’
‘You already know that, Dothann. Peace comes only after Justice and Mercy. This gang cannot be allowed to continue the course they’ve chosen. Some of them will meet Justice up close and personal, there’s no way around that. Others, if the situation has merit, will receive Mercy. And then there can at least be the hope of Peace.’
‘All you have to do is preach the Word, Dothann. You can do that,’ says Talorc, flexing his broad shoulders.
‘I can do that.’
At the first church, in a small town in eastern Colorado, Dothann stands at the door greeting all who have come to worship with him on this fine fall Sunday morning. The sky is blue above his head, the air a bit crisp, the trees various colors, and the people more than a little subdued as they shake his and Rua’s hands and file on into the small white building with the little steeple and cross on top.
The stages have brought news. These people know what’s been going on. They’ve already discussed among themselves whether or not they should even continue holding services. They know Dothann and Rua are here to talk about it with them.
Even so, they are perhaps a bit taken aback to notice that rather than being on a peg in the foyer where all of their own will hang, Dothann’s gunbelt is on his hips, and Rua’s seems conspicuously out of place against the bright plaid of her woolen dress. Dothann doesn’t say anything as he watches them all deposit their weapons outside the main door of their sanctuary, but his lips tighten when he sees the questioning looks he gets from those who use the pegs.
Rua reaches for his hand and gives it a squeeze.
‘Where’s Merri?’
‘I don’t know. Mamm’s already inside, sitting near the door.’
‘Do you think they’ll show up?’
‘I don’t know. I hope not.’
Dothann’s opening prayer raises a few brows but nobody notices because they’ve all got their heads bowed and their eyes closed.
‘Father God, Son Jesus, and Spirit Mother,’ he begins and eyelids flicker as those brows rise a little in surprise at that last name. ‘Today we have come to worship Your Holy Trinity at this place. We pray for Your guidance and protection on this day and on every day. We thank You for watching over us, and for the blessings You have shared with us, and today we claim the Promise You have given to us, that You are with us always even unto the end of the world. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Spirit we claim this promise and ask Your guidance and protection, Amen.’
The opening hymn is Blest Be the Ties That Bind, familiar to all, and the singing of it has a mourning quality. This small congregation grieves the loss of those whose lives have been taken by the ruthless gang that has been preying on the unarmed worshippers of other towns. They themselves have been spared but … for how long?
Blest be the tie that binds
Our hearts in Christian love;
The fellowship of kindred minds
Is like to that above.
Before our Father’s throne,
We pour our ardent prayers;
Our fears, our hopes, our aims are one,
Our comforts, and our cares.
We share our mutual woes,
Our mutual burdens bear;
And often for each other flows
The sympathizing tear.
When we asunder part,
It gives us inward pain;
But we shall still be joined in heart,
And hope to meet again.
Dothann’s sermon is one of loving hope, confidence about where those lost to human companionship have gone, and the commitment of each to protect all from being taken too soon – speaking of Justice, Mercy, and, ultimately, Peace.
It’s not a long sermon.
At the end of it, he steps out from behind the pulpit and asks Rua to join him.
Just as the two of them link hands, a shot rings out from behind the church and everyone flinches and starts to duck down between the pews.
The entrance door bursts open into the too-sudden silence following the sound of the shot. Three people dressed all in black, with their faces masked also in black, storm into the silent sanctuary. They too of course hear the shot just as they enter, and for a moment they pause, processing what it might mean. 
In the silence of that moment, from beside them comes the sound of a hammer cocking.
It is Mamm.
‘I’ve got you dead to rights,’ the little old lady says calmly.
In the same instant, hands still linked, both Dothann and Rua have drawn their own weapons.
‘Drop your guns,’ says Dothann. ‘You are in the house of the Lord and will respect God here. Drop ‘em.’
He locks eyes with the first of the three people and does not release the man from that gaze.
Mamm has another one locked in her bright green gaze, equally commanding, while Rua has the third’s eyes engaged with her own bright blue ones.
For some inexplicable reason the three outlaws are unable to break the eye-locks, or move, so they just stand there.
The congregation peeks up over the tops of their pews.
Their own pastor walks down the aisle from his seat near the pulpit, unarmed but unafraid, and removes the weapons from the hands of the motionless outlaws.
‘You want me to tie them up?’
‘No.’
‘No?’
‘No.’
‘But …’
‘No.’
The eye-locks have remained unbroken through all of this; Mamm, Dothann, and Rua are not turning these people loose, not just yet. It is by the power of the Holy Trinity that the outlaws are unable to either break those gazes or to otherwise move at all. They aren’t going anywhere.
From outside comes a call.
‘Dothann? You all right in there?’
It is Merri.
‘We’re fine. Bring in whoever you’ve got, if they’re alive.’
A moment later Merri, both fists filled with rather large pistols, marches three more outlaws into the sanctuary, hands bound behind them and feet bound but with enough leeway to allow them to march, albeit with gaits a bit on the wobbly side.
‘Where do you want them?’
‘Up here. Being them to the Cross, Merri. They’re going to come to Jesus.’
Up the center aisle Merri marches her prisoners, one of whom is limping from more than just the bonds, and the other three fall in behind them, seemingly of their own volition, as Mamm, Dothann, and Rua finally let them loose from the eye-locks.
And there they stand, before the Cross of Jesus the Son of God. Not a one of them so much as gives it a glance; their eyes are lowered.
‘You have been given a choice here,’ says Dothann to the six of them. ‘What are you going to choose?’
And he proceeds to deliver a sermon of Love and Peace the likes of which even the congregation, experienced in such things, has never before heard. By the end of it everyone in the room (except for one of the outlaws, Dothann, Rua, Mamm, and Merri) is on their knees, most of the congregation in the center aisle, looking to the Cross.
‘Mamm?’
Mamm comes up and looks into the eyes of the kneeling outlaws, giving a brief nod at each in turn. The standing outlaw refuses to meet her gaze, closing his eyes. She shakes her head at him.
Mamm is a natural ‘people reader’. She instinctively knows the hearts and souls of those she encounters. Five of these outlaws are truly repentant. The sixth is not.
‘People of God, you have here before you those who came to slaughter you all. What are you going to do about it? You have a Choice to make. What say you?’
A little girl is the first to speak.
‘Mercy.’
And so the congregation speaks.
‘Mercy.’
Dothann’s eyes get a little misty but he keeps his weapon leveled at the group of outlaws. Rua never loosens the grip she has on his free hand, and she too keeps her left-hand-drawn weapon steady on the outlaws.
‘Good,’ says Dothann to the congregation. ‘You’ve done yourselves proud today. But the real Choice here belongs to these outlaws. It is between them and God. So, what are you six going to do about it?’
He and Rua holster their weapons and untie the bonds of the three brought in by Merri.
Five of the outlaws don’t even notice. They’re still just looking to the Cross.
The sixth one, the one who refused to meet Mamm’s eyes or look to the Cross, takes the opportunity to wheel around and make a grab for one of Merri’s big pistols. She calmly whaps him upside the head with the other one and he crumples at her feet.
‘Tie him back up. He’s going to jail.’
‘What about the other ones?’
‘Well, let’s hear what they have to say for themselves.’
Now the Spirit has been working in the hearts and the souls of these outlaws during all this time. They have been looking inside of themselves, recollecting the words they’ve just heard from Dothann, and coming to some conclusions.
‘What say you?’ Dothann asks one of them.
‘I don’t deserve forgiveness,’ is the answer as the outlaw reaches up to remove his mask. ‘I came here with hate, wanted to kill you all.’
‘Have you killed?’
‘No, but I was going to. I’m sorry.’
‘Mamm?’
Mamm already knows.
‘He speaks true, Dothann. He is sorry.’
One by one the others remove their masks, except for the one who has been tied up again – but he wouldn’t have anyway, being still out cold.
One by one the five outlaws start to tell their thoughts, their feelings, and their hearts, wanting to talk to Dothann about it all.
‘You don’t have to tell me, or anyone else,’ he says. ‘You tell it to the Cross. This is between you and God.’
And so they do.
The fact that everyone in the building can hear every word too doesn’t seem to register with any of them as they bare their souls at the foot of the Cross of the Son of God. When the bound one wakes up and tries to shout them down, Merri herself takes his face mask and makes a gag of it, shutting him up.
‘You’d best mind your manners. They’re talking to God, so show some respect.’
The last of the five to approach the Cross is the smallest of the group. When the mask comes off a couple of people gasp aloud.
It is a young woman, known to everyone there.
She talks to Jesus at the foot of the Cross, as the others have; and then she turns to face the congregation.
‘You forgave me and granted me Mercy before you knew who I am,’ she says. ‘I have betrayed you. What do you say now that you know? I’ll turn myself in, or leave for good if you want.’
That same little girl, who has known this woman for all of her short little life, speaks up.
‘Why you’re our own Liselle, from the bakery! What are you doing all dressed that way, with these bad guys? Why did you want to kill us all? Do you still want to?’
‘No I don’t still want to. I have never been so sorry for anything in my whole entire life. We were going to kill you all and rob you – but now I just want to die my own self.’
‘But Liselle, you just talked to Jesus didn’t you? He forgives you, I know He does. He forgives me all the time, when I mess up! Then I don’t do that again. But there are so many ways I mess things up, all the time … He has to forgive me a lot. He forgives you, Liselle. That’s part of the Mercy thing, right?’
Looking at the small child, Dothann and Rua smile.
‘Yes,’ says Rua. ‘It’s part of the Mercy of the Mother Spirit. Her path is Justice, Mercy, and Peace. We all want Peace, so have to tend to Justice and Mercy first. You do extra chores and things like that when you mess up, right?’
‘I sure do, and it’s a pain, but if I make a mess I have to clean it up. So I do them because that’s only fair.’
‘Exactly. That’s Justice. And then you feel better about having gotten the Mercy, the forgiveness. And then I bet things feel a lot more Peaceful, am I right?’
‘Yep. So Liselle could do extra chores for a while maybe? Because I expect she’s like me sort of. I never feel right about being forgiven until I do something to fix what I messed up. Do you want to do something for us, Liselle?’
The young baker woman just looks at the little girl, tears in her eyes.
‘Nothing I can do will make up for what I did, little one. How can I even show my face around town ever again, or accept forgiveness from you all, or Mercy from God?’
‘Well for pete’s sake, Liselle,’ says the saucy little girl. ‘You just talked to Jesus didn’t you? You asked for forgiveness and Mercy, right? You did. I heard you even though I wasn’t supposed to be listening.’
‘That doesn’t mean I think I deserve it.’
‘Pffft. None of us deserves forgiveness or Mercy. But that’s what Jesus came to take care of, isn’t it Mr. Dothann? He’s the part of the Trinity that takes our bads away.’
Dothann grins.
‘Out of the mouths of babes. Yes.’
‘So Liselle is already forgiven. And these other ones too, except for that one who isn’t sorry.’
‘Yes.’
‘Well then. Please don’t die, Liselle. And don’t go away. I like your honey rolls.’
The child looks at Dothann.
‘Have you tasted Liselle’s honey rolls? They’re the best. Do you like honey rolls? I do.’
‘As a matter of fact I happen to love honey rolls, only I call them honey bannocks because that’s what my family has always called them.’
Looking now into the eyes of Liselle, Dothann smiles.
‘Looks like you’re outnumbered here, Liselle. Take this little one’s word for it, and know that she’s right. The Father, the Son, and the Spirit Mother have already forgiven you, just as this little girl has. And I for one hope your bakery has some of those honey rolls because now I really want one. Or two. Maybe three.’
Rua laughs.
The trussed, unrepentant, outlaw is duly deposited in the jail and the whole congregation parades down Main Street, singing hymns of praise and making Liselle lead the way. Tucking the other four outlaws in among them, to avoid misinterpretation of their black outfits by other townfolk, the parade is boisterous and jubilant. It gets the attention of everyone else and soon almost everyone in town is gathered in front of the bakery.
Liselle ducks quickly inside to her living quarters and changes into her baker’s garb, re-emerging to unlock the front door.
The first honey roll goes to the little girl; Dothann gets the second one.
Word is soon passed and quicker than scat the outlaws are out of their black and into more appropriate clothes, fitting easily into the crowd of townfolk.
While everyone is munching on the treats of the bakery, the preacher of the attacked church steps up onto the boardwalk and calls to order a meeting of the whole town.
‘We’ve got five churches here,’ he says. ‘Any one of them could be attacked at any time, just as ours was. We were lucky, and blessed to have had among us those who were prepared. You might not be so lucky, as some others have not been. What are we going to do about it?’
After much debate, the consensus is that the pegs in the church foyers will henceforth not be used for hanging gunbelts on.
‘And we want a pistol in every pulpit, too. God has given us brains and common sense to use, so let’s use them.’
The repentant outlaws have been talking. They now volunteer to stand guard for the churches.
‘We can’t go home,’ they say, ‘and we owe you all not only our lives but our futures. Let us help.’
And so it is.
The other teams of our family members have their own various encounters along the way, with similar results. Wait until you hear the story the Sass team comes home with. They don’t call her Sass for nothing, you know, and when she gives someone what-for they can’t help but get the message. Loud and clear.
Some of the outlaws of the extensive gang that has been terrorizing the churches are served Justice; some are granted Mercy. Eventually they realize that they’re outnumbered, by peace-loving folk who are bound and determined to enforce that peace, and the outlaws that are left just fade into the sunset, so to speak.
At any rate, Dothann is soon behind his own pulpit again.
He stops wearing his gunbelt while he preaches, but always there is a pistol in his pulpit.
Just in case.

Thursday, November 2, 2017

What If Audience Said NO

HERE is a link to an article in which a performer insists on segregating the audience.

I suppose it's done to make a point, but what I would LOVE to see would be an article that would make a totally different point.

What if, when the demand was made, the audience looked around at themselves, lined themselves up arm in arm alternating among those the performer demands be segregated, and just stood there looking at the stage. And if the performer tried to insist, the whole lot of them just said, 'No.'

Not chant it.

Not shout it.

Just, every time they are told to segregate themselves, make a flat statement.

'No.'

THAT would be a point worth making.