Reflections

The Paradox of ‘Tribe’

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HERE’S A SCREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS RAMBLE from when I awoke in the night… Where to find my tribe? I looked here. I looked there. I looked every where. Does it exist? Folks keep saying, “Find your tribe!” I kept thinking it will be in this schtick or that. But it wasn’t. So many clubs to feel secure in (so they think). But I don’t belong. Not to any tribe on earth. Let me expand on this…

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The Noblest Goal of Life…

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“The Writing on the Wall” (A New Song for a New Year)

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So here we are again
on the threshold of ‘once more’;
another year lies loomly through the door.
Turn the handle if you dare —
if you can handle what I’ll share.
Not for the fainterhearted is this war.

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My 2021 New Year’s Resolutions

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For what it’s worth… here are my resolutions for 2021. And if I may add that all these resolutions are distinctly achievable. I never make stupid resolutions like “To climb Mount Everest” or “To marry the woman of my dreams” or “To parachute off the Empire State Building”, etc.

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A Prayer, Supplication, or Affirmation

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THE WORDS OF MY HEART TODAY. Will you say them with me? Can I get an “Amen!”? ⚡️💥🔥

You’re So Naive!

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IS IT ALL JUST GOOD CLEAN FUN? Reflections on Hallowe’en

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THE PHOTO ACCOMPANYING THESE WORDS is of an icon hand-painted on wood by a Greek Orthodox monk which depicts George slaying the dragon. This precious icon is placed near where I sit when writing, so as to inspire and encourage me in the formation of my words. It really represents the Archangel Michael battling against the fallen, apostate Archangel Satan, who is depicted symbolically as a dragon in an account of that battle in chapter 12 of the prophetic Book of Revelation, which was written over nineteen-hundred years ago on the Greek island of Patmos, which is about 300 kilometers (190 miles) from where I am sitting right now in Athens, Greece, as I write these words. I have that icon near me as a symbolic reminder that the angels and I do battle against just the kind of empty darkness which so many people ignorantly celebrate today.

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Election Madness: An Insult to Any Remnants of Human Intelligence

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My first thoughts on awaking this morning. Existence becomes more surrealistic each day — as if one is living in a revealing dream sequence. Oh, wait…

The Transformed Heart is not Controlled by Human Laws

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📕 MAYBE PEOPLE MORE READILY READ 📘 these text-based images than full-blown articles. It’s fun to put them together. Believe me, I could have written a massively longer article on this gorgeous subject. But, for now, here’s the soundbite precis of it… 🙏

Can One Fall in Love With Someone One Has Never Met? [Short Story]

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IT IS THE YEAR 1849. Harold Thimbleby was the owner of a little bookshop called “The Ardent Bookworm”, which nestled itself in a tiny ginnel in the city of London. One day, he received a letter from a Miss Elizabeth Jane Hargreaves of Liverpool asking if he stocked a certain edition of Jonathan Swift’s “Gulliver’s Travels”. It is a straightforward letter of request, such as he had received many times before. But as he reached the foot of the page, something about her signature caught his eye. Not only did the flourish of the final “s” tell him that the writer is left-handed but also the entire tenor of the letter — listening to the music behind her words and closely observing her style of writing — seemed to imply a certain delicate yearning which spoke deeply to his soul. As he took up his plume to pen his usual reply to corresponding clients, his head was strangely spinning, and an unmistakable feeling of impending destiny took hold of him. The entire incident was thickly swathed in déjà vu. He affirmed to her that he did indeed have the book while, at the same time, he took the liberty to (as he put it) “also recommend another book by a certain Ellis Bell, entitled ‘Wuthering Heights’, which will enable the perfect fulfilment of the longing expressed in your letter of request to me”.

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