They've Already Told This RICIMER Tale

The histories have already SPOKEN, the story-tellers have already HAD their say, the documentaries have already been DONE, and the movie-makers have ALREADY addressed the issue. The verdict is in.

All I'm doing is presenting a different point of view (and a fictional one at that), not arguing with the experts.

Nobody, and I mean NOBODY, in their right mind, in any of those industries is going to want to touch this story's point of view with a ten foot pole, not in the world in which we live in today.

At the very beginning of writing the books of SONG I thought I might make the Catholics and the Baptists mad but so far they've not been critical of the 'truth' as it seems to me: by definition you CANNOT have a Father and a Son without a Mother - so how can that third Person of the Holy Trinity be anyone except the Mother? It's pretty obvious who a person's mother is at birth. There have been cases where fathers' identities haven't been all too clear, though. Female lineages are a lot more clear and easier to track, if you ask me. That's a scientific fact: mDNA is way easier to work with. It's consistent and accurate, relatively speaking. Point being that women are at least as important as men. If you find that threatening in some way, oh well.

Be that as it may be, I take the Mother's place in the Trinity as a given, something patriarchal ideologies could take exception to so I guess I'm lucky to be ignored.

And the women of Celt ancestry still bow to no-one. Ever.

So there's that to not worry about.

Not being overly fond of ideologies that go around trying to shove their beliefs down people's throats, and separating said throats from bodies and heads if opposed, yes I've taken a dim view of Rome's usurpation of the Faith they could not manage to eradicate in 300 years of trying. That they then weaponized it while denying half of the human population equal representation doesn't set too well with me, either. Being a descendant of the ones who held out, never gave up, never gave in, and won in the end, maybe it's something in my DNA that refutes the right of any to dictate to any other, let alone all.

Maybe it's because the church came to its senses in the end, after too long a time and too much brutality, that my condemnation of the early practices of the Roman church isn't being lashed out about.

Maybe it's because the peoples of Europe did, in the end, form themselves into strong independent nations once Rome's boot was off their throats - again, not quickly and not easily and with too much brutality - but they did it. And the very peoples who had held Europe for millennia before Rome came calling were back in control of their Continent. Fussin' and fuedin' an't nothin' new, folks. The factions of the Celts had been perfecting it for thousands of years already. That they'd HAD thousands of years TO perfect it says something about the stability of their culture, appearances to the contrary be damned. They were fussin' and fuedin', not trying to own everybody else body and soul.

So there are two more things to not worry about since who's gonna argue with what's already done and over with, right?

Right.

So far, so good.

The kicker here is that while I'm writing all this stuff about the past, there are a few things going on in our present that are liable to become obviously connected to said past. That's what's gonna keep me safe from media, from politics, from religion, and from invasive ideologies. Ain't nobody gonna want to go out on THAT limb I tell you true.

Writing fiction about ancient times is one thing. Connecting it incontrovertibly to current events is not gonna fly. So it's a good thing I just want to tell the Story and am not ambitious.

Because what motivates Ullin of Iona, RICIMER, and all the rest of our Characters is what lies at the heart of our current situations.

These Circles mean something:

That center Circle is FAITH

The rest of them represent

FAMILY

FRIENDS

FREEDOM

FUTURE

They're our Legacy.

This symbol, which you haven't seen as much of, means something too:

It's a pretty design, this is true.

It's also a warning.

This is the way it is NOT supposed to be.

It will not work.

Here is a representation of the underlying design by which our world is governed:

I call it the Father Phi Spiral.

That's for a couple of reasons.

One is that the line through the middle makes the Spiral look more like the symbol we recognize as PHI.

Phi is the blueprint of our world.

You can look it up if you doubt me.

The second reason is that it's one of the oldest of all symbols preserved by humankind. 

It means something.

It has always meant something.

It has always meant the same thing.

CREATION

GOD

1.618

BALANCE

And you know what the building blocks of the Spiral consist of?

TRIANGLES

What I'm about to suggest might make every religion except for maybe Buddhism and Hindu mad as hornets but I don't particularly care.

[WARNING: SIDETRACK]

Because it's not 'just' that the Holy Trinity has to have a female function if creation is to continue to procreate, which it most assuredly will, with or without humankind.

It's not 'just' that I find it personally offensive, what has been done in the name of 'religion' for all this time.

As a matter of fact it doesn't have much of anything to do with 'religion' at all, because people get to choose what (if anything) they want to believe.

What it has to do with is that attempts to twist the Spiral out of balance have caused, are causing, and will cause literal harm to innocent folk.

Half of us can't be heading in one direction and the other half heading in the opposite direction, and any of us expect balance to be maintained. It hasn't worked yet and it ain't gonna EVER WORK. Our universal - literally - governing principles will not allow it. [sidetrack inside sidetrack: speaking of governing principles, the Constitutional Republic government of the United States of America is fundamentally based on PHI.]

Look again at this warning symbol:

Say you're on one side of this 'twisted spiral' thing and I'm on the other, just walking along.

Where are we going to end up?

We'll either hit a dead end

or collide in the middle.

Either way we lose.

Plus, that spiral ain't gonna stay twisted like that because by design it CAN'T stay that way.

One side or the other is gonna flip back around so it's all in balance again.

So what in the heck do we think we're DOING?

May as well stick with the PHI thing and not lose our balance in the first place, if you ask me.

Which I realize you didn't.

[END SIDETRACK]

I think that maybe, just maybe, the significance of triangles and spirals and such clear back as far as we can track humankind has to do with something we ALL instinctively KNOW somehow.

There's no conflict between Science and Faith. They're the same thing.

Which is another thing to not worry about because Science is zipping right along to prove it and Faith is plodding reluctantly to accept it.

So what's the worry?

Me, I'm not worried because I'm just a little old lady with no real stake in much of anything - nothing to lose that I haven't already lost or don't care if I do lose.

But there are folks in our world who would likely not appreciate having people's attention drawn to parallels between historic fact and current events.

The divisions caused by 'identity politics', for example, mean that twisted Spiral is already out of balance. And I don't have to tell you who's been pushing that for a while now. I doubt they know what they're doing, but maybe they're hoping that when the time comes it will be the other side of the twist that will swing around and the Spiral will balance itself in their favor.

On the other end of the spectrum, but on that same side of the twisted Spiral, are the folks trying to shove the EU down the throats of the peoples of Europe. They don't want anyone reminded of how that ended when Rome tried to do it - twice - once via military and once via ideology. Neither ended well for Rome although Europe, once recovered from the ravages inflicted by the attempts, came out of it with those strong independent nations that Ullin and RICIMER and the others were betting on. Rome struck out twice trying what they're trying now.

Yet another loser in this equation is an ideology that can't seem to wrap its head around either the Holy Trinity OR that a Mother is required if there are to even BE a Father and a Son - OR that what they're trying to do has already failed more than once.

None of those people want to be challenged to explain how on earth they think they're going to take two failures and turn out a success by trying the exact same things. It's not like math where two negatives can produce a positive.

Honestly.

What did they do, look at history and say, 'Hey, check this out! This thing here FAILED spectacularly, and that thing over there FAILED just as spectacularly! Let's put them together and they'll be GREAT! We'll rule the world!'

Considering that the goal of both examples had been to 'rule the world', and both FAILED spectacularly, success by combining the two doesn't exactly seem very promising.

My point here, and in the books, is that our fictional folk (some not quite all the way fictional) SUCCEEDED in what they set out to do, not because they themselves were masters at what they did (although they were) but because their goal was WHAT THE COLLECTIVE, INSTINCTIVE, WILL OF THE PEOPLES AFFECTED WANTED.

So the moral of the Story is: the EU is doomed, and so is that invasive ideology. One is trying what Rome tried first; the other is trying what Rome tried second. Against the exact same populations of people. For that matter, some folks in the States are trying to do do what Rome also tried: pitting folks against each other. That, if you recall, resulted in something called the Barbarian Conspiracy, which didn't work out so well for Rome in the end did it?

Mamm of Dunnottar, fictionally speaking, asked Attila, "How stupid are you?!?"

Me, I would never think of asking anyone any such thing.

Out loud.

I might wonder it to myself, though.

If you're going to try stuff, you might want to first do a little homework so you know a little something about the people you're up against.

Not to be a spoil sport or anything, but at least three quarters of the citizens of the United States of America are probably descendants of the peoples Rome FAILED against - twice. The percentage in Europe is likely higher yet.

Fussin' and fuedin' is one thing Rome thought was more than it was.

Leave off the crap and leave our Legacy alone. 

Our instincts are still intact.

Believe me.

Go play in the rest of the world, and quit tryin' to mess with our Circles.

RICIMER MIGHT COME BACK.

And see how you like them apples.

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.

God Bless America Land That I Love (and part sermon, part science lesson)

God Bless America Land That I Love
Click on the link - it's the music and lyrics but no vocals - YOU do the singing, my friend. And while you're singing, listen with your heart and wrap your mind around the concept of the words.


Last night at this time I was just doing what I do.

Then things changed.

Suddenly it felt as though hatred and anger were everywhere, inescapable. Thankfully I was at work and so HAD to do what I had to do.

A part of me wanted to do nothing more than to shout in the loudest Voice I could manage to find:

"HEY! All you haters out there, you who can't think of a single solitary thing to love or even like or even acknowledge as good about our nation, YOUR nation - yeah YOU!!! ARE YOU HAPPY NOW? Are you pleased with what your hatred and angst have wrought? Are you feeling smug and self-satisfied that your rhetoric has taken root? IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT FOR YOUR NATION? Is it? Well whoopee for you, congratulations and all that."

Followed by a big long string of cuss words that I generally don't use.

When word came that islamic state was claiming 'credit' I shook my head.

No, I'm afraid this one was 'made in America' - not the America I and most of the rest of us know and love but an America of a newer vintage, an America whose darkness is the antithesis of the America whose light has been a beacon of Hope for all this time.

The night wore on.

The numbers climbed.

Video footage emerged.

Grief vied with outrage.

For a time, grief won.

Then outrage kicked in.

Something drove that man.

Something did harm to him.

And he did harm to others.

I can't, and wouldn't if I could, tell anyone else to shut up and sit down no matter how much I sometimes want to. I don't get to choose for anybody else what to think, or to feel, or to believe, or to say, or to do (so long as nobody is harmed, and even then it's not up to me to judge although I'm certainly entitled to my opinion). And I thank God that I live where none of us have the right to choose for anybody else.

Did I pray last night?

Yes.

Did it do any good?

Yes.

Were all of my prayers 'traditional'?

No.

A goodly portion of those prayers weren't anything my preacher-dad would have recognized. They might have made my Quaker ancestors blink, but they'd not have been appalled.

A heads up for you.

From here on in this post I'll be in preacher mode, or lecture mode ... whatever you want to call it.

...

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

The same was in the beginning with God.

All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made.

In him was life; and the life was the light of men.

And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.

And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us.

And John bare record, saying, I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it abode upon him.

People assume, for whatever reason, that 'the Word' means the Bible. The book is filled with words, this is true, but THE WORD is the Holy Trinity, Indivisible and Immutable.

Now, I'm just a little old lady and not an expert on anything, so nobody listens to me and I'm okay with that. There's a much greater Voice that makes up for my lack of one ;) so I've nothing to fret about.

The thing is that science does acknowledge that our world with all its ever-changing forms is solidly based on a premise of three. Triangles comprise the Spiral, phi, 1.618..., the Golden Mean, Perfect Balance, which governs the (can't create it, can't destroy it) energy that comprises everything in our world. Most of the time science goes with body and mind, but cannot and will not deny the third part which is Spirit. Even though it is not understood, the significance of that third part is as much a part of the equation as body and mind. What, for example, enables that 'spooky action at a distance' that Einstein wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole? Now we call it 'entanglement'. It's the effect of acknowledgement and engagement; I think of it as 'the power of prayer'.

That having been said, I think it is a gift to humankind to be able to 'personify' concepts so as to wrap our heads around them in a way that's meaningful to us. Does that in any way change the science of anything? No. Does it in any way change the nature of God? No. Our search for understanding is requisite only to us. That it IS requisite to us is pretty much a given as it's been a part of humankind from the get-go if our most ancient artifacts are any indication.

There's a Mystery both out there and in here, in our own selves, that we may never truly comprehend - we can also never deny it. That is the Mystery of the Spirit as a part of the Holy Trinity. The gift given us is the ability to recognize and acknowledge that third part of the equation. It's intuitive, a part of our human makeup.

Is our world itself a sentient being? I have no idea and neither do you. But that there is something, beyond what we can now comprehend, is that 'given' I was just talking about. Our search is insatiable, has been all along. That alone is a pretty fair indicator that the 'something' we seek to understand is quite very real and quite very much an active participant in our world. Even when we can't 'pin it down' we intuitively sense that it is there.

Whether you 'see' or 'interpret' that force as Energy (governed by phi) or as God is essentially irrelevant. It's the search itself, the acknowledgement that the search is on-going, that provides validity.

The Spirit aspect of the Trinity has as many functions as the other two aspects. One of those functions is to Guide. So when we search for Truth, it behooves us to be in a frame of mind to follow that guidance, no matter what.

If you know me at all you know full well that I don't happen to think that the propensity for humankind to 'personify' in terms of what we're familiar with (family, biological elements, etc.) can possibly be 'right' if we're going with the Father and the Son but not including the Mother as an equal in that triangle. I do understand that the society of the time the current 'interpretation' came to strength was patriarchal. I'm not concerned that the Mother has been in any way changed. We can't do that any more than we can change the Spiral that defines and maintains the balance of our world. It's just a personal irritation for me is all, that our personification process seems to have gotten stuck in the rut of 'male'.

Even so, the personified Son gives us knowledge, and warning:

Mark 3:28-30: "Truly I tell you, all sins and blasphemes will be forgiven for the sons of men. But whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit will never be forgiven, but is guilty of an eternal sin."

Even the patriarchs who put the pages of words together did not leave out that telling bit. Of course they weren't necessarily intending for the Spirit to be presented as female, but the fact remains:  they left it in.

Because the Trinity cannot really be separated, it's maybe a little hard to get a visual. However, the three parts are distinct from one another even though they are one and the same. Yeah, hard to wrap our heads around because it's kind of hard for us to envision discrete and separate entities and one entity that cannot be divided at the same time. We'll 'separate them' here for a moment, for clarity.

It's like there's the Father and the Son taking all the hits we can throw at them, all the insults, all the hatred, all the denial, all the physical and intellectual attacks, and they just stand there and take it, and forgive. And there's the Mother too. A part of the Trinity, and apart from it, same as the Father and the Son. And she's the one you really don't want to mess with. It's not that she is any more unforgiving than the Father and the Son, but (and this might come across as patronizing but it isn't) it's like if you mess with the Mother the wrath of all three of them will descend on you.

Over a century ago a guy by the name of Rudyard Kipling wrote a poem, a line of which is appropriate for our current purposes:

'The female of the species is more deadly than the male.'

We still refer to Mother Nature.

And we all know better than to antagonize Mama Bear by messing with her young.

Instinctively perhaps, we do acknowledge the Mother, even when our 'organized religions' aren't totally on board with it. 

And what, of course you're asking, does any of this have to do with God Bless America?

I'll try to explain what I'm getting at here.

Lots of people mock prayer, and that's okay. They just pray in a different way, and that's okay too. Whether you're invoking a deity or activating entanglement, it's all the same thing. You're using your own energy on behalf of another and that's what counts. God Bless America is a prayer. Thinking good thoughts for another is a prayer. Hoping for a positive outcome is a prayer. Cheering your team to victory is a prayer. Or whatever you want to call it. Refer to it however you want, all of us are praying all the time.

Now, among the words of the book that was assembled from many others, are some that include reference to 'armor'. Interestingly, while the 'armor' pieces are indeed all there, a weapon is also included - 

    

That Sword of Justice and that Dove of Peace are one and the same thing, with Mercy (not pictured) in between them. They are aspects of the Mother as they are aspects of the Trinity. The Son has been identified as the Word - but do not forget that the Trinity is inviolable. What is applied to one applies to all. I find it interesting that the part of the Trinity presented as being armed is the Spirit - the Mother. Everything else is protective, defensive 'equipment'. That sword of the Spirit, however, is a weapon. Intended to be used for defensive purposes, it is nevertheless the only part of this particular equation that's likely to be lethal. And the Mother wields it.

"the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, the shoes of the gospel of peace, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God"

*laughing*

I often think that the complex simplicity of quantum physics is a lot easier to 'get' than the complex simplicity of God. Trying to explain is complex. Knowing is simple, once you get the gist of it.

What happened in Vegas last night at about this time did not just happen out of nowhere. The energy that man loosed on tens of thousands of our folk, and on all of the rest of us by association, did not just suddenly spring into being (can't create energy; can't destroy it; it just changes forms). I do not know the story of that man, but I surely felt and recognized that form of energy.

We call it hate and it seeks to divide and conquer.

It is the flip side of the coin that makes up our nation and our world, the opposing darkness constantly battling the light as balance on all levels must be kept. The thing about that darkness is that the stronger it becomes the stronger becomes the reaction to it. Whatever drove that one man to use that energy in such a way ran smack up against the equally (perhaps more) powerful energy of those who stepped up to combat what it wrought. Instinct and/or training kicked in (I have a strong hunch that it's both - I don't think a person trains to protect unless that instinct is already strong in them, and even without training the instinct will take over when need be) and ... people did what needed doing when it needed doing. Last night's attack and the response to it doesn't stand alone. There are countless incidents, large and small, past and present (and doubtless future), that illustrate challenges to and the defense of the balance required and enforced by the concept of phi (for lack of a better term).

Mine own response lies in the opening of this post. Go back up there and read it again if you want to. In between the traditional prayers was a concentrated, specifically directed prayer of a different kind. Whether or not either had any effect I haven't a clue. It was just what I did. The non-traditional prayers were for that loosed energy to 'flip' from bad to good, from hate to love, from dark to light. Energy can and does change forms, and directions for that matter (look up entanglement and particle-wave things). Even putting mine own energy into 'flipping' took some doing - because that wrath was very much a factor.

Yes I know this is getting long.

I don't care.

See, energy itself is just 'there' everywhere. It's inherently both positive and negative and as such is balanced. How we choose to use it at any given time, for good or ill, is variable and that we do indeed have a degree of 'control' over, certainly on a personal level and perhaps on an entanglement (prayer) level as well. I chose, and still do choose, to weigh in on the side of the possibility that entanglement (prayer) is a more powerful force than we give it credit for. Doesn't hurt anything or anyone, and might help.

So yeah.

I pray.

God Bless America Land That I Love

An American Story Nobody Wants To Hear

From my perspective, we’ve got several ‘factions’ going here in the good old US of A.

First we’ve got the folk who don’t mind giving everything away to everybody. They’re generous folk, good-hearted, compassionate, and kinda on the scared side. Now that they’ve started that cart rolling  and been so strong in the giving away of everything to everybody, they don’t dare stop for fear those who have been the beneficiaries of their extensive largess will just take it anyhow; they’ve been told such would be the case and they believe the ones who told them so. We’ll call these folk the Givers.

Next are the ones who are more than a little appalled at the free-wheeling open-handedness of their neighbors. See, it’s not just the generous folk’s own stuff they’ve been giving away for all this time – it’s the stuff of these folk too. So these guys are getting somewhat ticked about that situation. They, however, aren’t afraid that the receivers are going to come and take what little they have left if the giving well should go dry. These are the ones who aren’t going to let that happen, at least not to them. These folk we’ll refer to as the Protectors.

Then there are the Receivers. Lots of them have had a true need for a long time. Lots of them take what they’ve been given and put it to good use – so they leave the ranks of the Receivers and go into the ranks of either the Givers or the Protectors. Nobody has a problem with these folk. On the other hand, there are lots and lots of Receivers who never think they’ve received enough to do anything worthwhile with. Whenever somebody mentions that maybe they ought to be kicking in somehow, they rattle the spears that they do always seem to have been given enough to obtain. The Givers back down right quick and give them whatever they want and the Protectors scowl and check their own spears.

And finally we have the Giver/Takers. These aren’t quite exactly like the Receivers but the line that separates them might be a little hard to distinguish at times. The main difference is that these folk tend to show up out of the blue, spears in some hands, and take stuff that’s given to them, some of them pleased as punch to actually do their bit to earn that stuff, true enough. But the stuff they earn generally gets sent back to where they came from. These too are generous, good-hearted folk who work hard to take care of their own, most of them – except they’re not supposed to be here in the first place so they don’t get nearly as much stuff as their hard work would seem to warrant. So they get a little owly about things, and their numbers keep right on growing until there are too many of them to keep them all busy any more. Many opt out of the Giver/Taker role and just go with being Takers.

And the Givers just keep on giving, not so much out of kindness of heart or generosity any more but because they’re afraid to stop. What would happen to all those poor Receiver folk and all those poor Taker folk if the Givers stopped taking care of them? And what would the Givers do if the Receivers and the Takers got mad? See, the Givers don’t believe in having spears of their own.

So the Protectors, working their tails off to kick in and doing what they do to provide for themselves and their own folk, are watching all this, safe enough because they do have their own spears. But they’re none too pleased that their hard work doesn’t seem to be getting them and their own folk much of anything.

The Receivers keep right on receiving, rattling those spears once in a while and looking sideways at the Takers who are getting a hefty hunk of the available stuff the Givers are so generous with. They might be thinking how much of that stuff ought to be coming to them instead, who knows? The ex-Receivers who are now in the ranks of the Givers and the Protectors seem to be disgusted by the whole thing but aren’t going to go back to being Receivers, not if they can help it.

The Giver/Takers are too numerous to hide any more. A lot of them still want to just do their bit and have things continue as they’ve gone for a long time. But their kinfolk, who want to be Receivers but can’t because they’re not supposed to be here, make that difficult. If they can’t be Receivers, they’ll be Takers. They want what the Receivers have.

And the Givers are getting nervous because they’ve already given themselves and everybody else right into the red. The well is about to run dry.

The Protectors are getting more and more ticked. Some of them get swords to go with their spears. They set out to either protect what little is left in the well, or cap the thing.

The Receivers add more spears to their arsenals.

The Giver/Takers try to keep a low profile; they’ve gotten pretty good at that. The ones among them who have become Takers look sideways at everybody and get themselves more spears.

Well.

What do we expect to have happen here?

One thing I noticed, which may or may not be pertinent here, is that homegrown folk seem to be literally moving out of the places that are real big on giving. They hie themselves to the places that are bigger on protecting. Imagine that. I doubt most folk even realize that’s been going on for years already.

When they leave, they leave behind the Receivers, a lot of them; they leave behind the Takers, a lot of them; and they leave behind the Givers, a lot of them.

Proportionally speaking, the Givers are liable to wind up with all the Receivers and the Takers on their doorsteps – and won’t have anything left to give them, much as they would dearly love to be able to keep on giving. By this time nobody but some of the Protectors has anything any more; the Givers are hoist on their own petard so to speak. And they’ve managed to hoist most of the rest of us with them.

What are the Givers going to do about it?

They get ticked at the Protectors who are the only ones who have anything left, and blame them for the well going dry.

Because the Protectors have spears and the Givers do not, it’s not like the Givers themselves can just grab any more of the Protectors’ stuff to give to the Receivers and the Takers.

The Receivers and the Takers turn on the Givers. The Givers run to the Protectors for … um … protection. Being smarter than the average bear, the Protectors have realized this would happen. They can’t protect everyone so they focus on protecting themselves and their own. They’ve got stuff, sure they do – they’ve saved up a lot of their stuff; they know how to make more stuff; not only that, they’ve got what they need to make that more stuff. But they cannot make enough stuff for everyone, not any more. So they make stuff for themselves and post guards.

The Givers are on the outside now. They’re out there with the Receivers and the Takers and boy is that an eye-opening situation. They’re the only ones out there without spears. Talk about vulnerable.

They promise to give everything that the Protectors are protecting to the Receivers and the Takers – if the Receivers and the Takers will follow their lead in getting it away from the Protectors.

Well.

The Receivers and the Takers might not be the brightest bulbs in the chandelier but even to them the Givers brainstorm of an idea just sounds dumb.

When they take to picking off the Givers, and rattle their spears at the Protectors themselves, the Protectors get ticked enough to step up to the plate.

That scares the dickons out of the Takers because after all they aren’t supposed to even be here in the first place. They head for home as fast as they can go. The Receivers are right behind them but going somewhat slower because they think the Protectors might change their minds and decide to become Givers.

Nope.

Keep going is the word from the Protectors.

Enough is enough already.

The Givers don’t particularly enjoy becoming Receivers; it goes against their grain.

The Protectors, now in the position of having to be the Givers of the equation, aren’t overly fond of their situation, either.

The abrupt arrival of all the Takers and the Receivers south of the border upsets the status quo down there in a big way. The Takers are let in, but most of the Receivers are refused entrance. Totally not used to having to work for a living, said Receivers have a tough go of it. They’re on their own down there because all of the Protectors and Givers have left the vicinity, the Takers are safely home again, and the Giver/Takers are laying low.

But the Giver/Takers now have plenty of jobs again. Having kept a low profile and staying out of the whole thing, the Protectors invite them to stay. In turn, they invite the Receivers who are good workers to join them – but they do not give them anything except a chance to work.

The Givers (who are now the Receivers) are so uncomfortable in their new role that they get themselves busy and become some of the hardest workers of all. Still Givers at heart, they finally realize that in order to give they must first have.

The Protectors are in no way intimidated by much of anything. They give to the Givers (now Receivers) but only just enough to get by on. The rest the Givers/Receivers have to come up with for themselves by working for it.

All things considered, with the Receivers and the Takers out of the equation, it doesn’t take long for the Givers to get back on their feet. They have a new appreciation of how to go about their giving within the laws of reason, and pay closer attention to the Protectors instead of griping about them all the time. They have learned an extremely painful lesson, which is to say NO before everything gets completely out of hand.

That’s my perspective on things.

Hope springs eternal in the human breast and all that, but if there’s a less drastic way out of all this somebody better come up with it in a real fast hurry.

This little outline of a story is the sugar-coated version, one that has a relatively happy ending.

We had a Civil War once upon a time. The line was fairly clear on a geographical level that time. Much of what is now a part of our nation wasn’t part of it yet. There were places people could go to escape warfare if they wanted to (at least that kind of warfare). You were either a Northerner or a Southerner and it wasn’t all that hard to tell which was which.

Now there’s no real way to accurately even ‘label’ anybody. There is no Mason-Dixon Line. The metaphorical ‘spears’ in the above are not muskets, or even six-shooters; they are weapons with a lot more power. People are not ‘rattling spears’; they’re outright killing people.

The ‘Givers’ have earned for themselves the suspicion of the ‘Protectors’; even the ‘Receivers’ can’t trust them any more – they know that well’s gonna run dry. And the ‘Givers’, the ones who do not believe in arming themselves, are not actually un-armed. They just think they personally do not need to defend themselves because they believe the military will do that for them if need be. As a matter of fact, that’s one of the reasons nobody really trusts them.

So the above is not exactly anything except a very over-simplified perspective.

The other thing about it is that a person could well extrapolate.

Unless the United States really does go into an Isolation Phase, and right quick, until her internal affairs are in order, and manages to keep everyone else out of her house-cleaning, the whole thing is even more complicated.

None of us, not one, is so naïve as to not ‘get it’ that not all of our ‘Receivers’ are locals, so to speak. If the United States decides to ‘clean house’ she’d better be darned sure it’s going to work the way it’s supposed to – to make her stronger than she has ever been. Because, while we’re cleaning house, focusing on internal affairs for a change, the rest of the world is going to be clamoring for our attention, you can bet on that.

If our well going dry makes our local ‘Receivers’ and ‘Takers’ go around the bend, what’s it going to do on a bigger scale?

As I said, extrapolate.

Yet there comes a time, I think, when it is imperative to close our doors and lock our windows for a time, have a Family Meeting so to speak, and find our own way out.

Quite frankly, there is nothing – not one single solitary thing – that we would have to look for outside our own doors.

Nothing.

It is our somewhat arbitrary need to give, to share – perhaps to dominate if you look at it from that not-so-altruistic perspective – that seems to make us think we cannot, or shouldn’t, be self-sufficient. If we were as self-sufficient as we could and should be, without looking beyond our own doorstep; if we could, as we probably should pretty soon, curb our somewhat arbitrary need to give, to share, to dominate … what would the consequences be?

I’m no economist but our unemployment might go away.

I’m no scientist but the genius-caliber ones among us might be encouraged to do what they do best. At home.

I’m no technician but we have among us techs who could do what they do best. At home.

I’m no farmer but our ag people could most certainly produce ample provisions to care for us.

I’m no manufacturer but we have plenty of skill in that arena, and plenty of natural resources to use, including a work force.

I’m not in the military but our soldiers would have plenty to keep them busy, guarding what is ours to protect and preserve.

I’m not an administrator but getting things organized and keeping them that way would be a major task.

I’m not an infrastructure builder but I use our highways and other public things; those whose skills are in those areas would be much needed.

I’m no doctor and haven’t needed one in years but if that time should come I would like to be able to go to one of my own choosing. They will always be needed and ought to be allowed to stand or fall on their own merits.

I no longer have children in school but my grandchildren need to be educated; options on that front might become more of a priority if we had more time to consider their needs.

I’m not a secretary or a sales clerk or a farm hand or a burger-flipper or a firefighter or an electrician or a plumber or a roofer or a waitress or a line-worker or a truck driver or any of the rest of the professions that keep our lives running smoothly … but maybe those jobs would be kept filled with competent folk who know what they’re doing.

I’m not an entertainer but we have some mighty talented people who could make us all laugh, or cry, or think …

I’m not a journalist but we have a number of good folk who would be awfully busy keeping us all informed on what’s going on in this nation of ours, focusing on our own folk for once.

And, contrary to what people might think from reading what I just wrote, I am not an Isolationist.

I just think that we need to be putting more of our attention and our resources to work on our own behalf.

If/when there’s a budget surplus, then would be the time to start taking requests from all and sundry.

We cannot afford to feed the world until our own are fed.

We cannot afford to house the world until we have no homeless of our own.

We cannot afford to outsource employment until our own are all gainfully employed.

We cannot afford to donate bridges or roads or anything else for anyone else until our own are finished and maintained.

We cannot afford to buy energy when we have adequate resources to provide our own at less expense.

We cannot afford to be Givers, not right now.

That time will come more quickly and be more substantial if we take the time and make the effort to tend to what needs tending to on the home front.

So no.

I am not an Isolationist.

I would probably be a Giver if I had anything to give.

But a dry well takes time to refill. When there’s nothing but dust in that deep hole, the Receivers are going to be in for a very rude awakening. So will the Takers. So will the Givers.

It would behoove all of the above to think long and hard about what it will take to refill that well. 

It would behoove the rest of the world to let us be while we do what we have to do here. It would be in their best interests, whether they think so or not.

Too many are too pleased to see that well going dry. I cannot for the life of me figure out how they could think that would be a good thing. Well, aside from the jackels who circle, slavering at the thought of picking the bones.

We do not, believe me we do not, want to find ourselves facing even the sugar-water version of that little story up there. Yet that is exactly where we’re heading.

And that’s about enough of that for this day I do believe. I’ve got some paintings to get done for my front porch windows.

That ought to keep me busy and out of trouble for a little while, unless people figure out what I’m saying with those paintings and decide to be offended by them.