To Peace

It lives in Salaam, shalom and even Shlomo. While Salem, Salome, salami and other related words
might have developed contrary implications to it over time, the soul purpose is peace.

The Biblical King Solomon has long been touted as one of the wisest people ever born. It was the highest frequency of his energy that recently came to mind during a conversation on human nature and its sometimes supernatural feats of (in)humanity. When the dynamic discourse visited suffering, namely from abuse of all kinds, we agreed that the conditions were likely to create further sexual and/or emotional deviance in the victims; forms of perversion or power-seeking that seemed to narrow one's options to the plight of pimps and prostitutes. An old testament of the latter is key to today's post, so there's no need for alarm regarding my choice of words or corresponding song. Lord knows Life gets down and dirty sometimes, so I'm grateful for the omnipresence of what poet Nancy Thomas calls a "Hard God".

The third chapter of 1 Kings presents the former prince-turned-preacher with two members of the aforementioned profession. Bittersweetly, Solomon's family -- the root of Jesse that branched into adulterous parents; homicidal, incestuous siblings and then the Messiah -- had yielded all the practice he would need to provide right leadership like that which discerned the liar from among the pair of freaks, so to speak. Due to earnest relations with the Most High, the options expected, if not encouraged, by the family's dysfunction expanded to include the proverbial fifth element of prudence.

Having argued or otherwise engaged with foolishness before, I understand what it was to be mistaken, however briefly, for the same. For example, receiving "Again?" as a response to my first and only sharing of serious events with some believed to know me well followed by a third-party feeding of information only they knew was enough to pause my calling on them even for dire reasons. As 1 Kings 11 and Nehemiah 13 attest, the false dominion of his many wives' deities and thighs would temporarily confuse the king and dim his light. In our respective seasons, the merit of consecration (cleansing and setting something aside for spiritual purposes) became clear to us both. Past mistakes were rendered powerless save to inform and enhance the positive, larger Message.

The earlier conversation's good spirits as well as the classic Jodeci remix track that came to mind reframing the king's activity grew distant from the perpetual present and notion to post here. With the delivery of a raw diet women's health newsletter subscription on this morning's wings, I was subject to the ticklishly blessed assurance that "If you think it's about your thighs, it's not" and encouraged to share my sentiments anyway. May It all serve God's will well. Case closed.

Of Fathers, the Sum... and, wholly, Spirit

This year's calendar says the 20th.

Conventional wisdom regards the 21st.

The temperature and my inner spark (for a little informal writing) suggest this day.

So begins the Summer, an approximately 90-day warming trend no greater individually than the larger experience of the Life that knows how to overlook interventions from the likes of Aristotle, farmers, Gregory, Julius, warriors and others being lived by Divine design. 

Fathers' Day has always marked the door to the sunny, celestial season in my mind as I don't recall it ever shifting from its third Sunday in June post. Arguably, there are no coincidences or mistakes, huh? Challenging as that may be to comprehend, especially regarding what I've read are the fallible differences of every body and soul, thank God there is a clear pattern all can look to for daily encouragement. Injoy!

Venous / As a Buoy

"Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined."

At the end of last year, I completed intended graduate study in herbal medicine. I vowed to remain present for the lessons no matter how Life showed up. If experiencing my first hurricane and earthquake were among the indications, boy, did it! Regardless, this week offered the official pomp-and-circumstance—and I chose to sit it out. The usual suspects of ingratitude, anti-social behavior or outstanding balances had nothing to do with that absence. If I could go bare without prejudice and the ceremony took place in a beautiful garden that offered me a seat in a strong tree or pesticide-free grass, the personal appeal might have been greater. Of course, I am aware of how and happy to dress for various occasions. Per the next level or loved one's invitation, I may even clutch pearls in the future. However, less is the most appropriate, personal expression for this particular occasion. I'll explain a bit. 

My secret life with plants began unexpectedly some time ago, di vines reaching for me from what sometimes resembled painful and rocky places. Being presented with the threat of cancer and its implications at age 17, surgery stopped being a career goal and became personally mandatory. Even if only for a calendar season, a teenager accustomed to walking, taking stairs, belting tunes, working out or just sleeping in her own bed who suddenly can't is in line for a paradigm shift. Know that I embrace the merit of the knife rightfully wielded. Still, elder wisdom's way with the wild kingdom made post-operative healing one of a deep, abiding strength that eventually engaged my whole being in the process, encouraging my swap for the pen and other tools that can unify by Nature. I've traversed climates and humbled myself before experts with completely different lifestyles otherwise to discourage dependence upon harsh, self-fulfilling pharmaceuticals. Why, then, would I need a certain cap, games or bra to honor old friends as near & dear as chickweed, garlic and bitter melon for helping me during figuratively naked times in my Life? I wouldn't.

On Sunday, a fellow runaway graduate and I met for the first time since our last class in December. We discussed our previous and next steps over sushi and green tea. The realization that we'd probably be impoverished according to modern standards in all senses but that of community and never get out of school if we really honored the traditions the way we wanted to and our ancestors did was also on the table. Was a society that encourages what's showy and, even with 20-year studies, only scratches the surface of knowledge relative to, say, ancient mystery schools the best place to step into this arena? In the midst of a full moon and just before the Venus transit that reportedly won't recur until 2117, we quickly burst the bubbles of that rhetoric and the overly idealistic pieces of our plans alike. Ancient tempests of the natural and socioeconomic kind could not stop greater purpose from staying afloat to carry genuine interest to our hearts. From there, it continues to circulate so other individuals, if not nations, can also be healed as God wills. That's ourstory and it's sticking to us. Although he and I parted ways and may never meet again given our respective Life assignments, we understand that ebb and flow is to be expected. Still, it will always be a blessing to know that someone else will step out on faith and get their feet wet to make sure that true Love is delivered in any weather.