46.   

Godtalk in Small Dosages

As alluded to in some previous writing, people during ancient times heard from God more directly with more direct consequences, often in a group setting.  Things have changed as the  communication is subtle and more personal and consequences not so harsh.  Life has become too compromised for that.

As such a continuous dialogue with the voice of the maker, the 'still small voice' which is what we have today, is not really possible.  The reason is that it is linear, and we think in a linear fashion, and if continuous it would lead to verbal agreements and consensus we could not fulfill. Think about it. If you heard 'try doing this' and then 'try that' from above and didn't listen, what then? You failed and time is needed before you speak again.  Otherwise it would become nagging. We are too compromised.  The good of this is that we hear from the above in subtle and infinitiely intricate and ways.  The bad of it is  that its not continuous nor laid out in an orderly way.  Life is too disorderly to sustain that kind of consistency today.

What seems to work is hearing from above in small spurts.  You live, you veer, you become enmeshed, and then you reach up sporadically or hear some words unexpectedly.  Your appeals aren't always responded to at the moment but when the time is right.  The voice at least for me has been short and directive if needed  If a practical suggestion is available, I hear it.  If there is no suggestion given, I notice the silence. The communication deals with what is and without harsh judgment.  Some words received at various times might fly right by me because I became distracted and caught up in the multiplicity of life.  Eventually I'm drawn back to ask, or speak, or appeal again.  Too much separation is not good, and too much communication can't be maintained or accommodated.  

And that's how it is these days.  

​45.

Relating to God

Another morning

It was another morning of internal mayhem.....not panic, but just many things that had to be ordered in my mind.  There were too many items to review.  My mind reviewed each category.....some order was established, but not enough.  I turned over in the blanket and waited for the light to peak through.  No more sleep came.  In the semi dark I tried to write down a title for my new painting.....my eyes couldn't even see what I wrote.   I churned different titles in my head, obsessed over it.  I then reviewed certain conversations I had the previous day.  I found out my  ex wife had no opinions on a title.  There had been a call from a Peruvian friend  who kept falling apart and I was drained by it.  My skin had been itching like crazy.  I wondered what was my gold doing?  Were people period the cause of my stress?  Should I call up Susanne and offer her my old vacuum cleaner or is that opening up a can of worms? I processed the actions of certain people until it was clear where they were coming from.  Did my doctor get my note on root canals?  The letter I read yesterday said a man self healed his teeth in some instances with Vit C and Magnesium and Oregonal drops.  I've preserved a few teeth doing that too.  Shame I lost many before I knew to try this.   My thinking went  on and on.

Oh what to do?  How to begin this day?  Then I heard the clear uplifting voice of God...clear to my mind.  I was relieved.  Things weren't so bad, weren't so confused.  I wrote a good to-do list, probably a few days worth of to-dos.  Then I plopped on the bed again.  I heard the voice tell me tea wasn't the worse idea, and if I could I should choose slippery elm.  I heard the day didn't have to be bad, that the painting was almost finished and I could work on the signature.  Some of my writings meandered maybe but I could review them the next day.  I could stay local and just walk outside and get some sun and be close.  I could read the book on cayenne.  It was relieving to hear the voice.  I turned on the TV as a distraction and then got up and put up some hot water, shaving while it heated.  My day had begun, helped by his voice in a nice way telling me how to begin.  Some order came out of the chaos.

20190 Comments
 
44.

Personal


The Status

The future is not so certain and things could take a turn for the worse, God or no God. People around me are stumbling. Health issues might not resolve, money might tighten, people remain difficult, distractions multiply, and burdens don't lighten. There is still an open door for the dream to sneak through, and it's important Io grab it while I can, but it can't be hurried and it's hard to keep the faith. Everyday is a struggle, at least it feels like that. For now the uncertain future won't go away and has to be endured.

(What I wrote stands on its own.  However, soon after was in the bathroom brushing my teeth and seemed to hear "it's alright Steve.  You can push forward and get things done.'  For the moment felt relief and capable again.)

43. 

Relating

When Hashem betrays

This was fresh in my mind about a week ago but I'll see if I can rebuild the idea.  About 3 weeks ago a neighbor we'll call Helen called me after six mos of not hearing from  her and asked me if I could come over and throw out some garbage outside of her door.  She had numerous health problems and had a fever and was spitting out black mucus and she felt awful.  Previously she had gone to the pool every day and had lost a good deal of weight and looked okay. But now she hadn't been to the pool in 4 months.  In Florida if you are sensitive to allergens it can be devastating.   Helen was afraid to go outside, even with a mask.  I myself get head pressure so I was sympathetic. 

Helen sees  herself as a healer of sorts and also a psychic.  Her beliefs are eclectic and she does come up with names and places that must come from another place.  Her life however, for at least 5 years has not been working out in many aspects.  Healthwise, relationship wise, and career wise.  What else is there?  She is a true believer in visualizations and continually uses them and they continually don't work.  She also invokes angels and also, although born a Jew, Jesus Christ.  She is dogmatic and preachy and not overly knowledgeable and basically can be a pain in the a....s.  I think she collects disability so her lifestyle or wrongstyle is supported by the state.  Presently she said she is angry at God because all these years she helped so many people and even so she has been going through hell for the last 5 years.

Anyhow, I stopped talking to her about 6 mos ago for the second time.  On this call I recognized a call for help. All those people who she claimed to help and the brother who she loved were not there for her. I told her what I thought, which is to try appealing to God, but directly, not through Jesus, or angel Gabriel, or the spirits.  It's just you and God.  I shared a story about a soldier in World War II whose ship was sunk and he was bleeding and the water was cold and he was hanging onto a piece of wood in the ocean and he then saw a shark fin.  He then said to God 'God, I'm wounded, the water is cold, I'm alone and now a shark is circling me.  This is not fair God.”   At that moment he said the shark left.  I advised Helen to plead her case in a similar fashion.

The next morning she called   So I decided to throw out her garbage for her.  During the conversation I listened and she said she didn't pray to anyone else but to God directly and then said her fever was down to normal after a doctors visit.  It had been 102.  I answered that was great, a real miracle.  She then said she was speaking to God all the time and he even told her what sandwich to make.  I thought that was a little off.   Then she said she was going to teach this in a class.  Instead of being humble, her ego entered the picture and her talk became again about her.  I knew this was off.   The next day she called and wasn't feeling well again and  had taken some medication.  I didn't have much to add.  It was not for me to say you still don't get it, you still are full of yourself, you are still the problem.   Anytime I would talk bluntly, she would call me negative.

The point here is that Helen spoke to God but misused it somehow and it did not work in her life at all.  She had the right idea and few get to that point but she was off and that is dangerous.  She missed it and really wasn't going in the right direction.  Numerous times I've run across people who claim to speak to God and it really doesn't work in their lives.  The only time it seems ok is when the 'preacher types' convince others to do so and make money off of them.  That is just plain wrong.

Then there is the other side of the coin.  There was a Japanese Samurai warrior who was legendary.  At one point he lived in the forest practicing his moves all alone.  Perfect practice would lead to perfect execution.  When he returned to civilization he won every challenge he entered.  Later he became respected and a teacher of the martial art he practiced.  It was said he never prayed or meditated to God.  He saw his life as something he would have to  handle on his own.  Once, when in a setting where there was a stature of Buddha, he nodded , bowed and honored the presence of Buddha and God, as if saying hello, but then went his own way and still handled life on his own.

At 60 or 61, living at a martial arts retreat, he contracted cancer and subsequently passed away.  His life was not a long life.  Something went wrong.  True, people die young.  To get such an illness, however, indicates there was some imbalance, even if he was not responsible for it.     With cancer there was pain and suffering with eventual demise.  This warrior's ability to handle life on his own, doing so all solo, had not fully worked out.  At least, so it seems.

In the first example, speaking to God, albeit in a limited way, did not work in the person's life.  In the latter, recognizing there is a God but doing everything on one's own possibly became a death sentence.  Where is the truth?   Which is the way?  How are we to know?  I have no definitive answer.  Going it solo is too hard.  It's like walking with one leg.  On the other hand, speaking to God, in most cases abused and in the wrong manner, often  doesn't seem to help one's life.  All I can say is what I do now.  Often I am quiet inside and can't communicate.  There is nothing to say.  My life might be too off for a healthy link.  But also during these dry spells I'll hear a statement that stands out in the silence such as 'Calm down Steve.'  For now I'll go with this.
'

42.

Relating   

The week that was....

About a week ago heard from a neighbor about another neighbor, a lady in her early 70's, who after having neck surgery, was undergoing heart surgery.  She was deaf as was her husband but managed to function and stay in shape.  Who knows what pressures she was really under.  We got along.

Received an email from my sister telling me of a man I grew up with who 6 mos ago was up and about now in a wheelchair thin as a rail.  He had been nicely put together, played high school basketball a bit and was a good student  To me it sounded like a nerve disorder but that is just a  hunch. She also reported a contemporary of hers who had been active having a stroke recently in her early 70's.  My old friend was 69.

My sister said it was interesting to see how nature and the 'timetable' started to take over on schedule.  Interesting, but I added Mark's mother had lived into her 100's and this generation had been compromised healthwise, not having the base to negotiate age with its new demands.

Another neighbor yesterday gave me a lift to the supermarket which was surprisingly flooded by a downpour and on the way back told me why an ambulance was in front of Pete's place, right opposite me.  Yes, 'why.”

He said Pete a week ago had collapsed on the floor at 67, perhaps from an aneurysm, and was given no chance to live unless he had surgery which he had and is now fighting for his life.  His son, a millennial who lived with them, applied CPR originally with no effect.  His wife and son spend all day at the hospital these days.  They were nice. 

Pete still worked at sales for NPR and I'm convinced the stressful 20 mile drive to work hurt.  You end up like a machine or part of it.  I got sick years ago when I had to often negotiate the same drive.  We sometimes ran into one another admiring the setting sun in Florida and the clouds.  I noticed recently Pete would be on his porch just staring.
He would often give advice about my car.

Down here many people used to be snow birds.  Some still are but not as many.  Instead, many work into their sixties and beyond.  The bottom line of money concerns can be a real stressor, even a killer.  Anyhow, after  hearing about Pete I felt listless for the rest of the day.  I wondered 'why?'

I've noticed a certain not caring attitude with people, a kind of 'who can make sense of life so why bother.'  On Facebook an English lady 'friend' who posts often about the ridiculous spoke of her mother recently dying and her grieving over it.  She said the good news is that grieving made her lose weight.  I wrote to her 'I'm happy/sad for your losses,' which she liked.  Now usually at the end of a post  she would say 'love and light,' but this time she wrote 'hate and dark.'

This is what I've sensed, a kind of 'I don't give a sh...t anymore' attitude.  Everything has been tried, little seems to work, so who cares.

After hearing about Pete, the next morning I was slow in getting up.  Some of my own health issues I thought about.  Then I stayed still.  Then I seemed to hear, 'You still have the light Steve.  It's no joke.  It's real.  Play it out.'  It was good to hear this and needed.

Relating

41.

Elevated

Upon reading the Siddar I felt uplifted and said to God:

"I want to be elevated."
He answered, "Steve, you want to be elevated?
I said, "Yes, I want to be elevated."
 

40. 

Relating
(A little long, not fully crafted, but points are made)

The reward

It was a tough day.  My sinuses were bad.  My dishwasher had given way, and my refrigerator was too cold and wouldn't adjust.  Just some practical pain thrown my way.  Irving, my car, whom I was trying to keep alive, was receiving bad care. The first mechanic put in a coil pack, plus cleaned the fuel lines, costing $269. The problem was not solved. I would not go back to him.  Other mechanics were recommended but far away. According to Mitch, my friend, all that was needed might have been to have the wires changed, costing a mere 32 dollars.  Anyhow, after two mechanics later, the car seems terminally ill, on life support until Wednesday evening when fuel injectors will be inserted. This last mechanic might also have made a mistake, because the car never shook before he worked on it.   Mitch suggested it might have been purposeful.  I hope not and said I can't live with such distrust.

Anyhow, my car is very old and many say I should get rid of it.  But I became attached to it, the engine before all this sounded healthy, it was good for local chores, and I didn't want to face purchasing a new one.  Now I might have to. 

So that night my sleep was restless. It is one thing to spend money unnecessarily.  It is another thing to feel possibly cheated.  That's irritating to the core.  There were also the usual health concerns that had to be put on hold until this was resolved.  Whether stress induced or just due to the pollen my sinuses were bad that night. Maybe a couple of hours of sleep was had.  Pain, discomfort, can humble one.

I had not related to the above in a while.  I had not heard anything for a time.  That morning I did.  The tone was clear and comforting yet firm.  I asked questions, small and large, and seemed to get answers.  The future could not  be told, but an approach was offered to each situation.  I brought all the physical pain I was feeling before God and asked why did I have these problems.  Weren't they a  bit much?  I had them since a child.  God seemed to answer "as a child you suffered a lot.  You were up nights.  You were alone, I know.It's the soup you were from.  It was the resistance you had to live through, that you had to spring forth from it. The pain and suffering is you." 

Hearing this caused a shift in my head.  The pain and discomfort was no longer the enemy. It was part of the existence from which I emerged from. I felt empathy for my whole life.  It was all rolled into one ball.  How could I isolate the pain and extract it as if it was disconnected from me? God said "Life is molded from pain in a sense.  It is the pressure that moves you.  It drives you towards me. Or more simply it is the force to move forward."  (Some might think this is 'nuts.'  Maybe not.  I am no child.  I have been practical.  Why should I deceive myself so at this point?  It's possible it's deception, but probably not.  One can hear from God.  That is there for us. I'll say one thing however. One has to be in a small place to do so. Also, when one is down one should look in all places for relief and answers.  This is one place to look, a special place.)

Anyhow, as mentioned above, many other such points were reviewed. Even the day's schedule was discussed. At one point I thought it was time for me to read a page of the Siddur but I heard "why read wise men when you can speak to me directly now?" God even said "think about finishing cleaning the kitchen shelves."  His voice was clear and healthy and uplifting. So I did.  I didn't finish them but spent a couple of hours arranging compartments and then reviewing what I had to do in the closet outside the house.  The items, household items and hardware, were interrelated.  Much of of it was from the original owners.  There were bathroom appliances and parts, kitchen parts, oven parts, cabinet part, drapery part, etc and all had to be sorted.  Somehow it was no longer intimidating.  It was also part of my life.  There was even a certain intimacy to it.  The slurge was also me.

Putting these items in order was part of handling the past. It was the grunge work.  I complained to God I could not clean up all the past.  He said "some effort had to be shown in that direction.  Otherwise it's hard to move on. You'll at least establish categories.  The past also has to be fluid."  Makes sense. Plus, results in this world were not everything.  My internal intent counted too.  If my future expanded I would be ready.  If I moved on to a higher realm things would be left clean, or at least cleaner.

Around 3 or 4 pm I picked up a brush to work on my small 3 by 6" oil painting.  This was an attempt to paint again.  I missed the feel of oil and pigment on the brush and the miracle of a stroke that left a mark.  This was to be my final arrow into the future but not an easy mark.  I was able to put a sketch on canvas, but painting it was another thing.  Using stand oil, linseed oil and a product by Gamsol dictated how I was to paint.  I did not try to fight my materials.  Well, maybe a little. The principle of working with them and harmonizing what came out was foremost.  The figure, like my sketches, was primitive but workable at this point.

Until this point there had recently been defeats.  I could not paint with turps or mineral spirits as they made me sick, even diluted versions.  I tried but the headaches started.  I tried water based oils but the results and approach was similar to water colors.  That was to alien for me.  So now I just went with pigment and the oils.  It seemed to work. There was a figure, albeit primitive, but it was workable. Later, I looked at the work with a mirror and the foreground was too dark.  I scumbled the darkish brown with white and a taint of ultramarine mixed with stand oil  Voila, the foreground became lighter.  It stayed in the same family as the sky and figure.  It could be lightened or darkened and have burnt sienna or ultramarine added and still work.  I had a system.  A way to work and evolveit. 

There were possibilities.  Before this scumbling there still was a question mark.  But once done and seeing the positive results there was no doubt I had a way, a language to work with.  It's not related to my detailed drawings, but it's way of working that can evolve with time. No, it's not genius.  It's a 'way' though and that's all I ask for.  It connects me with paints and a means of expression and can serve the bigger purpose.  So, with all the pain, followed by the grunt work, a form of expression was born.  It's not finished yet, but it's workable.  It's there.

On the next day I told my ex wife about this experience.  She said well, that was the 'reward.'  Yes, this seemed like the reward. 

39. 

Relating

Anger

It doesn't matter
if I know you
or not
does it God?

I messed up
or was messed up
and still
have to pay

  don't I God?

38.



Hope    

In the quiet
of the night
and money concerns
pressuring my soul
and health concerns
doing the same
I then hear
“Steve I love you”
and then I know
there is hope.