Innerdialects

“… love them...” Nj says. He has that capacity*.

Am thinking that’s the greatest city there is. That city* glowing embers in the eyes of a human that’s seen the good, bad, ugly but chooses Peace.

Karina…her thin fine lips holding back discontent; when I was a kid she found reason to tear up my confidence, now years later ..

we are in the best and worst of times. Another year mellows. Soon there will be Carols and chilly winds in my snowless acres

there will be white cotton flakes in giant Christmas trees in Mall squares. Last year Orion had an elephant for Santa. There will be banners for Peace, Table runners of Glad, Joy & Love. Across borders news filters in, another missile, more carnage. There will be rumors of Treaties and treats of home made cookies. Delisha our fav fam cook bakes the best Christmas goodies. Kitsy our daughter will compete, she’s quite the competition.

joy

There will be laughter and the healing of wickedness, in letters of Hope from one Post to another.

And there is Karina, a Phenomenon beyond compare. Does she even know she has the best face for miles? Does she know she’s actually sad, am thinking as this Post goes off and another day unfolds:

scary to open newspapers: last evening we managed a careful peak and NJ sighed. Another frig chop murder. The details can curl glass table tops. Why can’t everyone just shut be happy with what we got: what on earth is war for? Someone’s claiming the sea, another wants an iced mountain. Someone else declares anniliation of This & That.

There will be lovers of goodness, of sacred things & Bibles & burners of the same. It is reaching a point, the most timid of us are going to break into Xmen and walk water, smash firewalls, graze the sky, surf our soul begging for Good news.

I so wish Karina would smile. Wished her a happy birthday with all my heart, she replies but drops the ‘dear’ for me. Then again, she did reply. Am praying, factually praying she be happy, she find joy, love, laughter.

Sure there’s the rising price of tomatoes and jam is not sweet bottles for bread. It reeks petrol, yes.

No, our Family Bulbul wasn’t there this morning, they’ve chopped trees, and bird and nests must find new address. But there was ginger tea + cardamom. There will be the music of the neighbors’ drill as he completes his grill. Neighbor Hn the Architect agnostic secretly admires our praying out loud at God – he even confessed he found it satisfying and soothes his feelings. That’s a Call to never give up. One yell at his drill and he’ll just never feel any soothing again from this home. Quite a task, keeping Glad tidings going. The alternatives are hellish:

teach me to consume Beauty, and all that You’ve taken the trouble to unbud for us, no matter what we say of You, Father, in Jesu’s name, amen.

(this was a Gratitude Prayer)