Hanging In The Balance

Beginning in the 1960's, a photographer named Sebastiao Salgado, of Brazil, made drawings with light by camera and they called it photography. Picturing the suffering of humanity on Earth he documented horror. Reflections in black and white on paper to show all that what people have done to themselves and to the others is deeply embedded in the ongoing psyche of every man and woman who will live here and it will be so until purged. In the quest for riches that power an empire, be it an empire of one man or millions, there is no limit to the level of disgrace to which man has willing stooped. An empire comes and it goes and another replaces it. People are enslaved, tortured, starved, annihilated. By other people. Just before dying of deep soul sickness brought on by what he had witnessed, Sebastiao discovered a truth and it changed everything for him to allow him to live on as a recovered soul. A recovered soul. The impossible story of the resurrection of a man's soul is of vital importance to many who now are ready to hear. And more who will become ready shortly.

How can it be? Sebastiao returned to his birth home. To a once thriving cattle farm carved from a splendid forest that in his absence had been transformed into a desert that would no longer support a family. His aging parents were stymied. They had no idea how to make a comeback. Sebastiao's wife suggested, Why not replant the forest? And they began, having no alternative in sight. They had no one to teach them how such a thing is to be done and no book of directions. In ten years the forest had been resurrected. Today it is a paradise to behold. The Salgado family has relinquished all claim to its ownership by returning the forest to the people of Brazil. A park.

This Sebastiao found to be true: As constant as the determination of people to destroy the planet and their own souls in the process is the determination to restore it and recover their souls in that process. This balance, unplanned by man, works by a force that has been present before first man which has been known on occasion to pass through a man as its conduit to make it so. But, only after sickness of the soul has nearly destroyed him and an admission of the sorry state wherein he finds himself some are reborn. Those living on following rebirth begin a march to fully recover lost soul.

Once, long ago, to America sick people came in ships in search of India's riches to steal them after killing Indians. Upon discovering they were not in India as planned they decided to try their luck in the New World they had found. If it contained gold and silver they would have it all after killing and raping Indians as planned. The disease spread across Europe and many countries sent ships to the New World of Indians not living in India as expected. To rape, murder, and plunder. They soon brought ships filled with Europe's undesirables as settlers to oversee the fiendish operation and share in the spoils. In record time, the Americas, (North, Central, and South) were owned by the Europeans, at first those living back in Europe who sent the ships, later by those well armed Europeans and some of the mixed bloods trained and armed by them, now living on American soil. The not-Indian Indians had no chance really. They suffered before photography developed to record it. But they suffered mightily at the hands of the greedy white invaders. The whites never have admitted the harm caused by their greedy ways nor have they even attempted to make things right, for they continue to imbibe every liquor of nastier and nastier greed to this day. And have been able to corrupt souls everywhere by now locking them in a web of ambitious and clever salesmanship in a shell game by another name.

So, it is going to happen that some who will become desperately ill with soul sickness, will, just before they are killed by the weight of it, be reborn psychically to begin the march to fully recover lost balance of psyche for the individual who wants it which will require dedicated service to the replanting and nurturing of a garden that had been in existence previously all without coercion nor an instruction manual to guide them to do it faithfully, silently, humbly, without praise, through intuitive knowledge revealed simultaneously to a band of equals who will have arisen from every conceivable circumstance to work together as brothers and sisters in love with patient attention to detail. Once bitter enemies will be recognized among them and all will be forgiven. The garden spoken of is, of course, the 

 Reality of Man.

Very Short Story of Love

Once a girl lived in the land of Somewhere.

She did not find her prince though she searched for him. She did find a prince uncharming though. So uncharming was he that she gave none of herself away to him but kept herself for herself wholly and lived happily for the rest of her days. They each got laid by the other from time to time and it always was nice for them and between them. And it really did not matter. What did matter however is that she was a whole person. As one, she was in a position to give an immense unsuspected treasure of her heart away to many others though not very much to that uncharming prince who was too uptight to relax and enjoy a gift. She did have children who were loved and knew it. Nobody asked anybody who was going to support those kids what with all that love there was indeed much to spare and then give away freely. The girl learned as she became a woman that it is love and only love that supports everybody who ever is born. Any other possibility is absurd, she thought. She had seen that people who do not know how to love (and there are so many) starve children in one way or another way.

The children she bore grew up to be whole people as well. Seems that girl broke a chain that had led a long line of human beings going back thousands of years to live a hard life toiling to earn a living by the sweat of their brow doing work they disliked and knew in their hearts to be unholy while failing to do the work they were designed for by perfection itself...miraculous works of unconditional love. What a girl!

The girl remains and will so forever, anonymous, for a very good reason. The game of fame is not for her a way to a life fulfilling.

THE END

THE BOOK
THAT IS SHORT ENOUGH
FOR EVERYBODY TO READ
And To Laugh Out Loud
By Johnny Smith

A small honey bee, when it senses smoke, flies immediately to the comb and begins to feed ravenously to prepare for the impending wildfire and the necessity to move the entire colony of 70,000 to a new home, a tremendous task.

Made in that same loving way, man invented languages and with it invented Man Itself and became so impressed with their abilities they were no longer willing that their language serve God’s pure and simple way, but insisted on taking a way of their own...And it began with a fence. And they said it is good. And the road taken has led us to suffering and self-destruction. And so,
Man named the one to whom they gave all the credit for their language... Mind. And, each man became their own mind. And Man called it The Mind of Man. And said, It is good. Mind created a god of their own understanding in their own image to serve them. And they said it is good. Mind writes books now and fills libraries as proof the Mind Of Man exists even though the evidence impresses nothing except the Mind of Man. This nonsense is Man’s way of claiming immortality. It is but a futile, ignorant effort doomed to failure. All the libraries of man do not compare to a single moment of the reality of life.

Likewise, all the skyscrapers, all the bombs, all the technologies are but nothing.
Man denies that which has been known by them for thousands of years, at least, that one day even mighty Sun will go out. Poof! They do not know what to do with that fact so as they do with all else that baffles them, they ignore it.

In this brief volume the term Man is a plural noun. 

Have You Seen Such Windows?

Billy: I read. Love to read. Good books. Books that say something. Not the kind that are rank vomit to corral a reader in ideals, ideals, ideals all incompetent all indifferent, uninvolved, lukewarm and blasé. All the words, all the hooks, all the tangled webs woven to only mimic ideals nonexistent.

That way of learning entraps the student before seven in a world with shutters that do not open to invite a child to climb free from its clutches and avoid accepting the wicked invitation to live by other peoples' concepts of what makes a good joke so he'll know when to laugh. A boy I know taught me that. He did not laugh at my jokes until I quit expecting him to.

Have you seen such shuttered windows? Look as if they should open, don't they? but do not. Even promise to open but do not? Even are advertised as easy open windows but are locked tightly shut?

First an alphabet. Then a series of properly enunciated sounds to form words that are certified as proper and legal to be used to make sentences that form complete thoughts which decay and rot quicker than they are conceived and before even put on paper to be bound and published as books of the same self determining logic with which the windows are permanently locked against all but a tiny glint of creative genius. Religion out here teaches in such a way. The primary lock is the one that adds up to a sentence that authorizes some expert to determine who is smartest in the land by testing the child's ability to lock himself up so air tight no wind is able to reach into the lungs of freedom that hold contempt and disrespect for authority and sing out in protest in an unknown tongue against languages organized into patterns which like cell bars separate loved ones and stultify passions and make listeners and readers feel rejection at a primary level of life except they be deciphered by that tiny glint of genius, and, stripped of all falseness, be used to open windows where none existed.

We need windows to reveal to the eye of the beholder no truth originates in the mind of an insider. A society is a group of insiders who by their way of thinking make everybody else outsiders to them. All within a culture are untrue. All cults breed contempt. There is a window.

Have you seen such windows?

To live in a house without windows is to make all the world outside dark. The brighter the light inside the house the darker the outside is to the minds of those trapped within. There is a window.

Have you seen such windows?

Recently I overheard in a conversation a woman wonder why a kid like me would crawl up a chimney when the sheriff looked the other way to escape from a jail where the sheriff wanted me to remain until told I could leave. She was concerned that I have bad qualities and wanted to find a way to explain boys like me. I could tell that woman was really of the opinion that for someone to deliberately violate a rule of society is a cause for alarm. Something should be done about it. She asked a writer of books what he thought of the matter. He ventured that the public has always been fascinated with bad boys. They envy bad boys who seem to them to be free. I wonder

why anybody would build a jail?

In the beginning, God was Mean and Hateful. And Mean and Hateful was Its Name. M&H decided to make Earth (with light) (which is neither form nor is it void) and put life on it. It was not easy to make a Universe from Nothing. It needed to be done exactly right. But, M&H wanted so badly to make this New World to watch all the plants and animals kill and eat one another forever to feel better about Itself. So, It did.

However, His Plan went awry and it was so because He had used Light to make the New World. And M&H was disappointed for soon the animals and plants who ate each other began to feel, to their own surprise, actual admiration, then love for one another and some of them felt their mutual dependence here bonded them in a unique way just as strongly as peace and tranquility might have done. “We are all in the same boat”, they thought. It was also seen by a few that, for example, baby zebras became mighty lions and a stalk of celery had become a young baby boy or girl in the eating way of this new world, and so they even began to admire, then love, their Creator, although they knew not who that was. They called It Good. And So IT IS Forever!

And, so, It turned out that, when M&H was called Good, it saw beauty in its world and wanted to help.

Right away, M&H began to wish It had not made humans in Its image because those guys were a real problem to the rest of Earth. Then, It remembered that by doing a shitty thing Itself, It had become Good and had found a heart made of love inside Its own breast that made it want to help. That same grace must surely bring all the humans into alignment with M&H's new spirit. M&H had, in fact, done a good thing from the beginning. So let us have faith in M&H and thus faith in ourselves; and let us call M&H by a new name, Nice and Helpful.

N&H had originally believed with all his being that what he had created when he made us was something rather impure and predictably erring. Imagine, if you can, the utter chagrin that must have been Its when the nasty little bastards changed M&H into N&H. The tables were turned! Having saved our God, we found the way to save ourselves in the process. This brings us right up to date on matters. Keep trudging.


no plus onesno commentsno shares

POSSIBILITIES!

How many possibilities are in a moment of time? Unlimited? If so, what are we worried for? We do not even accept a possibility. We are doers, planners and doers. We strive. Every striven boy must at some time fail. If it does not kill the boy to fail, we say, Get up, strive some more! Strive on! Show us what you are made of, Boy! You can do it! Heroes and cheerleaders. Is that how we live? For myself I admit that from the time I was introduced to it, I looked for ways to cheat it. That life failed to draw me. The cheating made me feel guilty more and more. And, after awhile, I learned it was fraudulent. I was the fool. I was still striving the same as everybody else I just took more circuitous routes to get to the target. I was stuck. And I hated it.

I was lucky to find a teacher who recognized my predicament and knew he could show me where I was stuck. He asked me, How many possibilities are in a moment of time? Unlimited? If so, what are you worried for? If you could tap into the wonder of infinite ways to go and allow yourself to be carried as on a wind would you? He told me of a fountain. Showed it to me. It is inside me. He suggested I drop my myriad concerns and be filled by the fountain. As a way of life daily. He recommends I spend a minimum of one hour everyday playing in the fountain. Splashing. Giddy as a kid.

By doing this I learned what makes us strivers. Planners and doers. It is lack of faith in ourselves. Faith is intuitive knowledge. It is the fountain I mentioned, the one inside. Where it is fun to learn. To learn of the excitement of being. WE ARE GODS. I am not the first to tell this.

Athletes know of a real experience whereby they have become unbeatable for a period of time. A basketball player suddenly cannot miss the basket, for example. It happens in every sport. The zone. And it is certainly real.

Think of a thirsty man alone in a vast desert who will die if he does not find water. Once in a while such a person feels directed and follows the direction and finds water he needs to live. Maybe he is religious. He is certainly grateful. He gives thanks. Does it occur to the man to wonder whether the force that saved him can do other wonders for him? No. He returns right away to the world which created his distress and lives on as a planner and doer telling the story for money and career contacts in the striving game.

What do the athletes do with the information they receive which shows them a zone where they are unbeatable? They sell it for money in the game of striving for your living. And, know what? They feel lucky to be doing that. Others envy them. Does it occur to the athlete to wonder whether the force that made him a super star in basketball can do other wonders for him? No. Instead, he turns back to the marketplace of competition and striving and makes a deal to endorse products in advertising to influence impressionable children to scream their lungs out for their parents to go shopping! Where do they shop? In the marketplace of striving. How do they afford the products their kids cry for? Strive! Strive! Strive! And it never stops. Do you doubt the connection between all this demanding and striving to the mental breakdowns so common in society? And do you doubt how dear the cost of those mental pressures? Of course not. You feel them.

If you could tap into the wonder of infinite ways to go and allow yourself to be carried as on a wind would you?

At the pinnacle of a fulfilled life is not the time to consider dying.

No, it is a time to begin living, really, for the first time. Most have the way backward. They are living first in hope of becoming fulfilled. Until you are fulfilled you cannot live a balanced life. First balance then live. Do not even consider how to live first. Balance first. If not, you will become more and more unbalanced until you finally die.

Two had drinking problems. One quit and never drank again. The lucky one? No. Not at all. The one who quit lived in an unbalanced state, in the dark, for the remainder of life because he could; but he did not drink. He lived in fear and also died in fear. The other one who did not quit is the lucky one. That one realized that for him life as he experienced it was not worth living and so he chose to drink on. He could not quit and bear to live stumbling around in darkness for the rest of his life. But he landed face down and was carried to AA. There he met people who knew better than to tell him to quit drinking because they saw themselves standing in his shoes. Instead, they advised him to try and get balanced first. AA, you see, is for people who cannot stop drinking. The second man did seek to be balanced first. It worked. He never drank again; and, living in the light he had not known, was glad about it.  

Nobody can sell you a balanced life though many offer to do so.  Since a balanced life is a discovery of what you have, how can anyone sell it to you?  You can bet that anyone offering to sell it to you on Visa or Master card or for cash has it not themselves and is trying to pull the wool over you. No book has it.  No song will give it to you. No program no mantra no chants or prayers.  No wardrobe nor membership credentials. This blog has not got your balanced life either. 

Once a man said of a teacher who gives his work for free that what works for my teacher does not work for me and he left his teacher and all the while his teacher had been saying to him, be who you are, you have it already in you. And the man heard, be like me. Imitate me. Sad, really.

Only you have it. Listen.  Something inside calls for you to step up and receive it as your very own. Now.