A Cutting Away

I am a student in this life.  It’s a blessing to learn and I have learned by experience, reading and observation mostly.   Yet, it’s a  curse as well.  As I observe and learn, there arises in me the urgency  to put into action the lessons I’m learning.  It’s well and good to study a thing in a book, a paper, or a treatise, but another to put into daily action the lessons learned.  Putting into action the good things we learn can cause you to remove yourself from your comfort space and face what you would rather not.

“In one’s life. there are levels in the pursuit of study. In the lowest level, a person studies but nothing comes of it, and he feels that both he and others are unskillful.   At this point he is worthless.”

Upon my recent return to my home town I took noticed that a lesson was in order.  Before I made the journey, I felt such heaviness that hung around my neck as if wearing a slave collar popular for 17th and 18th century Europeans to adorn their slaves with.  Not that I felt some oppression by returning home for as a child I had a happy life.  But, a feeling of foreboding as if I should become aware of something.  I needed to see my aging mother since so many miles separate us and it had been more than a year since I saw her last.  This time, however was to be different since there was a lesson in store for me.

“In the middle level he is still useless but is aware of his own insufficiencies and can also see the insufficiencies of others.”

My father transitioned almost five years ago and my mother has carried the household with the heart of a warrior.  While she and my father were married she was the traditional June Cleaver 1950’s – 1960’s house wife, taking care of us and the house while my father brought home the bacon.  She attended all of our school functions, made dinner and found time to even play with us  children.  When she worked she never held a job long since my father really didn’t like her to work.  Be clear, my father made sure she would have funds to take care of herself financially.   Bu,  as her eldest child, when my father transitioned I felt it my duty to provide as much as I could to assist her in maintaining her living standard.

So, as I stepped into her abode, I could see there were small repairs that needed to be handled, painting, and just general upkeep.  I spent most of my time there taking care of these household requirements for any home owner.  In just a few days the house was bright and shiny again, and I could see on her face the pleasure she took in looking at her newly painted walls.  So, how could one who does this for their personal God, the living God that gave you life and not only by giving birth but by giving you life more abundantly be scorned?    My mother wiped our tears, cleaned our bodies, healed our wounds (mentally and physically), fed us good food and gave us the truth and rights on how to live as an upstanding being.  How does one lose friends and be scorned by siblings for giving back as one should?

“In a higher level he has pride concerning his own ability, rejoices in praise from others, and laments the lack of ability in his fellows. This man has worth. In the highest level a man has the look of knowing nothing.”

Lesson learned.  Yeshua said he came not to bring peace, but a sword.  I understand now this a time of harvest for me in that it is time to cut away the tares.  I am sure I appear as a tare to some, it’s their duty to cut away the tares from themselves.  I have been asked by friends back home when I will return for a visit and when I reach they find very little time to commune, verse, or spend any quality time.  Those were the actions of former friends.  Yet, when your sibling treats you in the same manner it becomes a deeper matter.  Surely, such behavior would be understandable if there were some riff between us,  argument, or falling out of some sort.  Nothing ever occurred as I would never allow such to happen.  But, this is the road and I fully accept.  On this trip I was able to get clarity on so much.

“But there is one transcending level, and this is the most excellent of all. This person is aware of the endlessness of entering deeply into a certain Way arid never thinks of himself as having finished. He truly knows his own insufficiencies and never in his whole life thinks that he has succeeded. He has no thoughts of pride but with self-abasement knows the Way to the end. It is said that Master Yagyu once remarked, “I do not know the way to defeat others, but the way to defeat myself.”

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DJANGO; ANOTHER WAY TO VIEW

 

We just don’t seem to learn.   I’m specifically referring to the behavior of Spike Lee, Katt Williams and Dick Gregory.  I do respect Mr. Gregory as a bonafide freedom figher and nothing less unlike Ski Davis of Zuri Speaks Dynasty Network referred to Mr. Gregory as a coon.  However I  balk at the verbal fencing conducted between he and Mr. Lee in publc.  This deminishes any intellectual conversation to just to media hype.  In the case of Katt Williams, I will just say he needs to concern more with removing the beam from his own eye before he speaks on the speck in the eye of someone else.  At any rate, Django Unchained has sparked quite a bit of conversation in all forms of media.  No matter the issue, in this coming era we have to be cognizant of the images being displayed of us and who is displaying those images.

 

Django Unchained has proven to be a boon for the aboriginal melanated people of the Americas.  Finally, the black hero does not die and in fact not only has a love interest, but in this case he has a wife.   I am aware Quentin Tarantino is given the credit for the film. However, I do remember how the Wachowski brothers were given the credit for the Matrix films and in the end Sistar Sophia Stewart won in court proving she is the mother of the Matrix story and not the Wachowskis.  I could be wrong, but we may see that another aboriginal is being usurped by the “Pinks” this time, but in the name of Quentin Tarantino.  Still, at this time Tarantino will get the credit for covertly telling us that Django is the incarnation of Shango.  The film appears to be a choclate version of Brynhildr, who in Norse (north) mythology is a valkyrie, the female Diety that decides which men live and die on the battlefield..  We who know, understand that Norse (north) mythology is only the pink European’s reinterpretation of abriginal myth.  Or a Europeanization of aboriginal wisdom.

Django is joined with his pink brother King Schultz.  A schultz is one that is a collector of dues and taxes for the lord of the manor.  In this case King Schultz is a collector of corpses for the sherrif or marshall of territories. In short a bounty hunter.  King Schultz says “I sell corpeses…” in this movie the sheriff would be the “lord of the manor.”    The word sherrif comes from one who is the representative of the king. The Schultz buys his brother from slavers and immediately manumits him into freedom.  In a way, Django is given a new life and in fact can carry out his mission to find and recover his wife.  Surely, for those that profess to know and love our people, but never do the research to realize people sold into slavery could and did marry.  Django was on a mission to get his wife back.  Django like Siegfried in the Brynhildr poem, had to overcome great odds to rescue his wife from the mountain of shields.  In this case Candyland.

 

Make no mistake Django evolves and is revealed as Shango by the end of the movie.  After receiving his freedom, Django immediatly dresses in blue and white.  Yemaya, the mother of us all, the Spirit of the sea, her color in the Americas is blue and white.  Django indicates his new birth by saluting Yemaya in his becoming.  At this stage he is not carrying weapons as such, only what appears to be a tiny two shot Derrenger which he uses to kill a slaver, one of the Brittle brothers on sight.  After utterly destroying the Brittle brothers he moves into his next evolution.

 

Django changes after being given life, he justly takes lives and transforms to his next evolution.  That of Ogun, the Spirit of iron.  Shango is a Spirit that wields the double headed axe.  Not all males can ascertain the strength to arch over to the feminine to have the crown of ultimate power bestowed upon them, however Shango is the male Spirit that has arched over and displays his connection to the feminine by outwardly weilding the double axe.  The Labrys (Labia) is a symbol of worshipping the Divine Mother.  Django changes clothes to the colors green and black, that of Ogun (Ogou) and sports six shooters on both hips, double weapons symbolizing the double headed axe,  on his side.  At this juncture he begins to come into the fullness of a bounty hunter and kills to sell bodies to the sherrif.  Remember it is Brynhildr (Broomhilda his wife) that determines who will live and die on this battlefield.

Finally after several trials and tribulations and gaining proper status as a Freedman, Django and his Schultz reach the Mountain of Shields or Candyland in this case, in Chicasaw Couny, Mississippi.  Chicasaw means one who is a rebel, one from Chicsa.  Repeatedly we hear the pinks in the movie say to Django “I ain’t neva seent a ni**er like you b’foe.”  They have never seen Ogun from Chicsa, the rebellious one before.  Utiliazing the misdirection of Legba, Ogun or Django plays his role to the hilt, even unto the death of a slave of Monsieur Candy’s that is torn to bits by dogs.  Again, the mission is to save Broomhilda (Brynhildr a Spirit which decides who lives and who dies on the battlefield not Django as many of you think.)  In the proper context we can now see that it was not truly Django’s call to allow the slave to be pulled apart by dogs, but Broomhilda’s. 

Finally, Siegfried (Django) reaches the summit of the mount – Candyland, loses his brother King Schultz as he has completed his destiny and begins the process of saving his wife.  Django must make the final evolution into Shango.  After surmounting great odds, even at the risk of being sold back into slavery Django, this time, frees himself and returns to Candyland to rescue his reason for living, his queen of heaven, Broomhilda.  He then has to become his destiny, and become Shango.  He again changes his wardrobe into a black jacket, burgundy (red) vest and a white shirt.  Wielding his double axe or two six shooters thus begins the final solution for Candyland by killing the mistress of the manor Mosieur Candy’s (lover) sister and tormenting Stephen the house ni**er (played by Samuel L. Jackson who does a masterful job.)  He then collects his wisdom (the valkyrie)Osun and fitting for Shango the Spirit of thunder and lighting, blows Candyland to bits with HN Stephen still alive inside the manor when the explosion occurs.

 

Shango and Osun, fittingly ride not off into the sunset, but ride into the moonlight. 

Jesus’ first Miracle and the Original Wombman

According to the bible, Jesus’ first miracle was to turn water into wine. This was, as what some say, Jesus’ wedding. Whether this was Jesus’ wedding or not it is curious that Mary, Jesus’ mother, Mother of God, is concerned with the amount of wine left for wedding. That being said, It is upon the word sound of Mary, his mother that Immanu-El meaning God with us, changed water to wine.
It’s long been understood that the primary physical manifestation of “thee” deity, creator of life, was seen as the feminine of the species for thousands of years on Earth. The impetus for the first miracle in Immanu-El’s (Jesus’) service to his people came at the urging of his Mother. In my own mind, I can imagine the early years of Immanu-El’s (Jesus’) life his mother was the one teaching him how use the “God” given talents he was blessed with. A mother knows her child, his personality, and understood his gifts as Mary herself was born of immaculate conception and may have descended from a long line of “favored” women.

On Mary’s persistence, to use the power’s she had honed in her son, Immanu-El changed the water to wine on the word of the feminine principle. Its plain to see the foundation for Immanu-El’s power lands squarely on the magical wisdom of a wombman.

 
 

 

When Will Songs of Love and Uplift Penetrate Hearts of Fear?

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Reggae music is one of my favorite forms of music.  I’m sure you can see this for yourself upon visits to this site.  I was attracted to reggae because of the positive messages in the music and the inspiring words so often sang on behalf of the less fortunate in our communities and our world.  Not only do reggae artist sing for the uplift of humanity, but many other artist contribute vocally to our betterment.  Even today’s gospel music is producing artistes and songs that are taking on a world view in the lyrics. But things seem to be going the opposite direction.  I’m aware not all people listen to reggae music, but shouldn’t the fact that these words being sang, like prayers, into the realm of the unseen, begin to produce a better society?

Words are the seeds of creation, a song enhances the creative process.  The bible teaches that in the beginning was the Word.  Many traditions teach that the Creator sang a song of creation and the sound became light.  So then, with so many songs of Love/Enlightenment/Uplift being spread around the world why are we not beginning to see healing?  Why are we seeing such malicious violence being wrought on humanity?  Is it fear producing such actions?  Are we living in such times that we really have succumbed to the (M/L) formula?  Material over life-love. 

Two things have recently occured in my life that causes me to  think, to really ruminate on the idea of words of power being sung into the ethers.  One is a news event coming out of Jamaica and the other is a personal event I’m experiencing.  Back in April of this year a news story was released in the Jamaica Observer, noting that nearly one million people in Jamaica are squatters, living in over 700 squatter camps across the tiny island of 2.7 million people.  What was even more startiling was the fact that the ministers in Parliament expressed surprise about the news reported by Dr. Horace Chang to Parliament.  Jamaica is not some sprawling metropolis where the Ministers of Parliament can drive and live without ever seeing such living conditions.  How can they express surprise at a living  situation that’s been going on for years?  This expresses the basic comtempt for their fellow Jamaicans and fellow human beings.  Squatting occurs in the land where reggae music was born and grew.  Those in charge and in goverment on the island must be plagued with fear of “not enough” overwhelming, the calls of songs for unconditional love for its people.  Bob Marley sang “…the brotherly love, the sisterly love I feel this morning, this morning.”  I wonder where that feeling went.

Fear of “not enough”, not only tears nations, towns and communities apart, but destroys families.  In recent years I have experienced a family memeber dying and the result has been the destruction of what seemed to be inpenetrable love.  Yet, these deaths have opened a sleeping volcano of greed that I thought didn’t exist within he hearts of these family members.  This most recent death has exposed the fearful heart of a loved one, causing a chasm to develop within the family.  How could one that expressed so much love of family, express so much love for his god, now expose himself as such an expert liar and possible thief?  Apparently, this being, is no better than the beings he arrests and sends to prison.  No better than the liars, thieves, murderers and rapist he holds in so much contempt.  Maybe Sigmund Freud was correct when he said police officers and criminals are twigs off the same branch.

In any event we must continue to sing songs of uplift for humanity.  Sing songs of unconditional love like prayers going into the unseen for a better tomorrow, for a better day.  I am determined not to succumb to fear.  I will continue to do as one Bob Marley songs suggests “…Flee from hate, mischief and jealousy.”  Fear is manifest in many ways including anger, stealing, hate, rape, glutoney, mischief, jealousy and much more.  Fear is a mind killer. I guess some family members feel their need superseeds the needs and wants of others much like a drug addict in the need of drugs.   Their fear is expressed in their addiction, as we know a junky will lie, cheat and steal what they know is not rightfully theirs.

Woman is just a vessel! Happy Mother’s Day.

A beautiful Image of Isis in all Her glory

Just a vessel, that’s what women are.  Just a vessel.  This is what I was taught when it came to women and their role in society as set forth by some archaic value system intimated by the Bible.    I was taught that woman is a “help meet” for man nothing more.    But, how could she be “just a vessel?”   Not  really someone to be appreciated other than the value of being “just a  vessel”  even if the value of both, a vessel and a “help meet” were met?  Logically, this didn’t set well with me, but what was I, a child, looking up to the men and women that reinforced this belief within my child mind to do?  I could not question their biblical interpretive authority.   

When I look at my mother, seeing how she held this belief inside, yet knowing that some how this couldn’t be true continued each day to birth something new into the lives of us  children.  That she, who changed diapers, washed clothes, created delicacies from ordinary victuals and soothed the pains that the world heaped on her, her children and her husband, was viewed as” just a vessel'”, knew in her heart that this just couldn’t be right.  Yet, she never questioned this mindset.  So, now I’ve questioned for her and concluded that this vessel must be a holder of much much more and not just an empty container, “just a vessel.”  I have to wonder if the purveyors of this point of view really could convince us that a “just a vessel” was without content, without bounty within the  vessel.  I wonder how a “help meet” could be of much help being empty.  Wouldn’t she, the vessel, have to have a plethora of tools including hope, love, joy, science, mathematics and agricultural skills to be a “help meet” worthy of helping?  Just a vessel. 

Just a vessel.  An empty vessel?  Surely not.  But what else could this “just a vessel” possibly contain? We know she had to have excellent culinary skills, and psychic wisdom enough to ascertain the secret of fire to take her culinary skills to the next level.  But, what else?  I was listening to the Warren Ballentine show (just one of many radio programs I listen to throughout my day being the radio talk show junky I am) the other day and he repeated a long held belief.  He said  ‘…without women, this world would be nothing.’  Nothing.  I wondered if he realized, as I did, that he was saying that without women this world would be NO THING?  In essence this world would not exist.  It would be not a thing, it wouldn’t be. 

“Just a vessel” conceived us, held and carried us, maintained us and delivered us to this place they (the vessels) conceived and brought to fruition the place we call the world.  Without woman or more specifically the wombed man, wombman, woman, there would be no world.  “Just a vessel” really should be taught and reinforced as THE vessel.  The carrier of life.  The dreams of generations yet unborn will be physically carried by THE vessel and birthed by THE vessel.  The bringer of life.  Our vessel, Mother.  My mother, my throne. My mother my Heaven. My mother my life. 

I don’t want those that are without child to believe that she is not Mother.  Mother is a Divine essence beyond child birth.

 

 

Beautiful Springtime!

Yes its that time again, beautiful springtime.  Ok, at least here in the Southeast spring has sprung.  Each and every year I look forward to planting my garden, but more than ever it will be most important to grow food for the family.  Unfortunately, the “bigger heads” are predicting a 5 percent increase in food costs here in the U.S.  This year for me the focus will be on such staples as tomatos, corn, beans, broccoli, lettuce and of course chiles of many types.  I am a chile pepper fan no doubt and will have scotch bonnets, jalapenos, bell pepper, cayenne, banana peppers and poblano.  Last but not least, are my herbs.  Yes, legal herb of course.  I will keep my rosemary growing, thyme, mint, mexican oregano, italian oregano, chives mint and much more.

Meet Me At The Crossroads

We are at the Crossroads. We are at the place of decision. We can cast our lot to the dogs, hang our heads in defeat and allow the current of negativity to overwhelm our very existence and sweep us under the wave of great loss. Or we can vault into the coming era of connectivity, into the mind of us all being in relations to one another. The crossroads is the place of decision, a place of options, a place of optimism or despair. It is our choice. So how will you choose? This current wave of selfishness is being forced out of our global society. We are living in the death throes of the “I/my/me” era. And as such, death throes can be deadly to others while the dying entity thrashes about gasping for is last breaths of life.
In this, we are witnessing such a destructive nature in our global society so widespread that may not be rivaled in any other cycle of time. And the mind of separation is painfully disassembling with destructive dimensions. Runaway corporate profits are drying up and with it will be the corporate culture of “get money” and care about the people it profits from later. The exposure of Peanut Corp of America’s processing plant in Blakely, GA where company officials knew of the salmonella contamination and STILL SHIPPED the peanut butter and paste, after no less than 12, yes 12, instances of contamination in 2007 and 2008 were identified! Business culture itself has become contaminated so much that human life is less than the life of the business.
How can a society accept the freezing death of a man that is 93 years old? Marvin Schur, had the money to pay his bill, though he was behind, yet in the dead of winter a power company has the legal authority to put a limiter on his home to avoid too much usage, which will surely occur when temperatures don‘t get higher than 16 degrees. An official at Bay City Electric Light and Power said “… Bay City Electric Light & Power’s policies will be reviewed, but he didn’t believe the city did anything wrong.” I beg to differ. You did something wrong, but you may not have done anything illegal. That, Mr. Belleman, is a far cry from being wrong. This is a symptom of the mind of separation. The mind of continuity knows that what happens here will affect there.
I have often wondered why people on their jobs just seem not to care. The average worker has been forced to meet quotas by the companies they work for, pushing them to limits that destroys any compassion for the people being served. And there may be an increase of pressure by the companies at this time knowing people want to hang onto their jobs. This pressing of the worker may be a contributing factor in the loss of compassion toward their fellow human beings.

As we enter into what seems like the Great Depression Part II, we are offered an opportunity to expand and create compassion for one another. Shortages of one thing or another may drive people back to helping each other. It may resurrect the heart of humanity rebuilding kinship with your neighbors, friends and family. The Crossroads offers us the choice, to be human or dogs. Cast your lot, and choose your road.

Optimism or despair?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ode to my father

Earlier this month I lost my father.  It was no surprise, he had been ailing for about a year now and was slowly withering away.  I don’t write this post in sadness as my father had a great life and provided a great life for me and my siblings as well.  I’m sure he would probably say there were things he could have changed or done better, but from my point of view he was a great father and provider.  He lived on this Earth for almost eighty two years and had the opportunity to travel around the world on several occasions.  He could be very funny, always making you laugh.  On Friday eveningsIt was his time to cook and most often it was fried fish.  He would be sipping his “tea” while cooking and cracking jokes the whole time as the “tea” made him more and more tipsy, but the fish was always great, and of course it was late into the evening before we could taste his good cooking.  Daddy you will be missed, your humor, your determination, your stern ways and perseverance.  You taught us well.  And I thank you and salute you.  And I know our country salutes you for your service to the country in the U.S. Navy for 20 years!

I Did Not Die

Do not stand at my grave and weep

I am not there I do not sleep

I am a thousand winds that blow

I am the diamond glints in the snow

I am the sunlight on the ripened grain

I am a gentle autumn’s rain

When you awaken in the morning hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

I am the birds in circled flight

I am the soft stars that shine at night

So don’t stand on my grave and cry

I am not there…I did not die

…Author unknown