Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Definition of Love-josh garrels

So my fav musician/lyricist right now (josh garrels) has a new video/interview out on the definition of love.
I think you'll like. Watch it now. :)
Josh Garrels Love

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Grass Cutting

I have nothing interesting to say or think about. I'm about to the cut the grass. Back in the day I could ponder such things as grass cutting and get this analogy to life and a sprititual lesson. Like "our daily bread" type of essay.

Today grass cutting is grass cutting. I will put on some old boots and walk bath and forth across my quarter acre of land.

That is all.

The end.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

The Night the Air Condition Broke

Our air conditioner unit died. The air conditioner technician said he never saw a unit last as long as ours. He said it was original to the house, 1979. I had a feeling this summer it would go out this year. Once, way back 23 years ago, I prayed over my appliances and asked God to make them last a long time. He made the Jews clothes and shoes last 40 years, so I figured he could make my appliances last a long time.

Now since this has been a hard financial year for me, I will not be getting that A/C unit replaced. We put some fans throughout the house. Still, I am so sweaty. No wonder Amish people stink so badly. I could take 3 showers today and I would still feel all sticky and gross.

It's actually cooler outside than inside, but I can't sit out on the front porch all night.

I've come to the conclusion that people don't care about HIV patients. I know, I know, I am making a generalized statement. But, still. It seems that way.

How long will I keep thinking about my young neighbor, who died so young, because of HIV. I'm having a hard time getting over this. No one wants to hear about it, though. I do mean no one.

I need to find something to do for HIV patients. But, what? I keep thinking how horribly lonely they must feel.

This post is a drag isn't it?

Monday, August 15, 2011

Monday and H.I.V.

Today I have much real estate work to do. On that subject, it can be tiring to work hard, and not get paid. But overall in general I am satisfied in the work I do.

Before I begin all the research, contract writing, and emails, I want to put down on my little blog my thoughts. Since I didn't get a day rest yesterday, Sunday, I feel I can 20 minutes and write a blog, and put some of this urgent work aside for 20 minutes.

At the funeral home I learned that my friend died of pnemonia because his body couldn't fight the HIV and the other infections he would get. This I heard from his father. My first thought is one of thankfulness that the father spoke matter of factly about his son's illness. To me it was a comfort in some way that his family accepted as he was and loved him and didn't run and hide from shame. I think the devil wants to blast people with shame and fear. Did their son live a clean life? No. But, he was still a beautiful soul and someone to be loved and cherished.

My other thoughts kept me up all night. When this young man start hair dressing school my husband would notice him driving past our house with his "friends" and the lifestyle that this young man was living grieved my husband greatly. Thinking back to those years, which only a few years, I am angry at the hair industry. I am angry at Hollywood. I am angry at the corruption that Hollywood and the fashion industry wants to force upon the creative people who pursue a career in art, whether it's fashion, acting, etc.

If you'll remember a blog post I wrote back in October 2009 about a horrible hair cut got from a young man who is the son of Pentecostal preacher and gay. The young man told me that when men entire the Paul Mitchell Hair School they are harrassed by the teachers and students if they claim they are straight. That made me angry when I heard him tell me this.

After seeing my friend's lifeless body, at such an incredibly young age, I am angered again.

This is truly a culture of death that we live in. If you watch tv, go to movies, listen the radio, interact with people, we are in a culture of death. Every thing is pushing and influencing to people to accept unhealthy living as acceptable and not just acceptable but tempting them to pursue unclean lifestyles.

I am feeling grief over this stolen, creative life. This is guy that would say, "hey! how are you?" and give you a hug and act like he was happy to see you.

I really, really hate the devil right now.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Sunday and a Funeral Home

Well, I am very happy that for the first time in a long time I don't have to do an Open House.
I might be showing houses, and then, I might not. Who knows? We'll see.

It's Sunday so begins the question of where to worship as you all know I am church homeless. Do I just go back to where I came from, do I go somewhere I've visited, do I try yet again another church. I do like going to church, so I don't go because I HAVE to. I like it. As long as it's not super boring. My last pastor said once, "it's a sin for church to be boring," at least that was his opinion. I honestly agree. If you read about the temple and everything going on in there, it was not boring. Incense, birds in cages, skillful musicians and singers, lots of gold and ornamentation.

I'm off the subject.

I'm going to a funeral home today at 4:00. A boy (boy in my mind) died. He wasa neighbor for most of his childhood life. His parents moved away after he graduated from high school. He died, I guess, of pneumonia. He's 25 years old. He would ride his bike around and come up on my porch and then tell me all kinds of neighborhood gossip. I enjoyed listening to the stories about people and he would have this delightful grin on his face and a twinkle in his eyes while telling on people.

He played the drums in the drum line, and then he quit because it was too demanding. I really thought the drum teacher was a psycho workaholic so I don't blame him for quitting.

He became a hairdresser and I didn't see him anymore. Isn't it interesting how much he enjoyed gossiping as a teenager and then he became a hairdresser in a salon and that's what hair stylists do all day, is gossip.

So it's sad. I don't want to go. But, I want to show his sister and mother some support and let them know that he had people who liked him.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Dreamt of My Life

As I slept in the dreamland this morning I was aware of my body being half awake yet half asleep in my oh, so comfy bed. The morning light was about to slip into the room. and my life began too play before my mind's eyes. I saw certain moments in time in my past. Each event and scene was illuminated and framed by a bright, warm almost golden, yet silvery glow. It was an unusual light that was not like sunlight, moonlight, but similar. As I peered into each scene a joy filled my consciousness and a pure delight filled my heart. I exclaimed to myself in my mind, "Look! I had an amazing life!" Gratitude and joy unspeakable consoled me as I lie there and watch scene after scene. I was surprised by each scene and amazed at the fortune I had in each circumstance. I could not have planned such wonderful happenstances if I tried. Treasurer hunters go in search of gold or diamonds. I just went moved aimlessly through my life and stumbled upon treasures that currencies could never buy.

I felt like I was floating bodiless through a dark expanse of time along the line of my life and peering into it. Sort of like Charles Dickens' character Scrooge was escorted through his life, I too had a companion. I had no ghost escorting me, instead the expanse that surrounded me was enveloping me and was with me as a constant companion and a caring, nurturing source of comfort.

I saw myself take my very first horseback riding lesson at the Smiley "R" Ranch on Smiley Road. The feeling that 10 year old me had looking out the car window as we approached the small red barn with silver metal roof and the white horse fencing was recalled. How could I have had such amazing luck as finding the Smiley R Ranch? Just recalling that moment now brings incredible tears of joy to me. I'm actually wiping away large tear drops as I write this.

Another scene was me on the hardwood floors of my charming first home in front of the marble fireplace playing with my toddler. Each little ringlet of curled hair and dark eyelash was a treasure to behold. Wow. Was all I could say. What a wonderful life I have had!

I could see the sidewalk that led out the door of my charming little house that led to adventure: a park, a carryout, and a delightful neighbor across the street. How could I possibly have been so incredibly fortunate to meet Blanche and her cheerfulness and readiness for inclusion, friendship and the outings we would embark on. I pondered this glorious gift. Was it an accident that I stumbled across the street to be greeted by such happy comraderie to enjoy for my whole life?

The dream continued and I arose to a fully awakened state of joy at the realization that my life wasn't "hidden," "wasted," "worthless," "unnoticed," "meaningless," "vain." My life actually astounded me. This is a Supernatural joy. A Supernatural communication from the One who formed me, the one who watches over me, the One who abides in and with me forever.

If you've wondered why I subtitled this blog calling myself a mystic, it's because I have known and experienced this Supernatural Love of God through the power of the Holy Spirit and work of Christ.

Those sound like gobbledy goop words, or some religious expression doesn't it? Let me try to put in simple terms what I have experienced. God heard my prayers and my heart cries yesterday and He gave me an answer in my sleep. Why did He answer me in my sleep? Because I am stubborn in my conscious thinking and not open to the possibilities of what He wants to show me in my awakened state. He chose to speak to me while I was vulnerable and not able to rise up and say, "no, that's not true!" Why do I resist this Great Love so much? Why do I doubt the Love of God? I do not know the answer. Only to say that this flesh I'm in, wants to party and carouse while it's living this short time on this planet. Yet, I'm more than this flesh I'm in. I'm not just on this planet. I'm in a different kingdom at the same time, though often so unaware of the unseen Hand of God.
My spirit that is me feels so tiny, so small, and my flesh, with it's bitterness and heartbreak, so big and loud.

Yesterday, my attitude was so bad. Why does everything have to be so incredibily hard? Why should I try at this thing called life when I'm just gonna die anyway and be forgotten? I didn't get an answer yesterday. Instead I doubted the whole purpose of the Life thing. By sheer determination alone I put one foot in front of the other and pushed on with the duties I had bound myself to that day.
Though I tried to get very quiet and listen for a "still small voice" I was too caught up in the cares of this world and let those cares choke off any joyful truth.

Yet there in my oh so comfy bed, passed out and quiet I was taken on a little journey and caressed with tender mercies. I hope you can know this joy too.

Epilogue: my teenage son asked me how my sleep was last night. I told him amazing, why? He answered, I prayed over the house before I went to sleep and rebuked all evil.
Again! How did I get so lucky? A son who prays and commands the darkness away from my home. Amazing. I'd say God answered his prayer, too.