Play station just flashed before my eyes!

I sometimes play video games just for the entertainment of the moment. Once the game is over I get a few options on the screen to go on or review the previous game. I usually pick review so I can watch where I screwed up and went off the curve or was eaten by a dragon or gang raped by Orks. The review is so that the next time around I might protect my behind a little better.

Today I got to thinking about the folks who had near death experiences. They always claim that their entire life flashed before their eyes. I’m betting the same principle applies here.

When you die you get to see every screw up, every flaw and every success and all the glory of the life you have just lived. So that the next go round you won’t be the complete asshole you are today.

It makes total sense. You review this life so that the next life will be better. You will be better. You will be stronger and make better decisions when those Orks come around.

The only troubling thought I had with this theory is this. If there is no afterlife, if there is no life after death, why would we see the life we had just lived flash before our eyes?

Why review the life you had lived if nothing came after?

This troubles me, this thought.

I shall go sit in the corner now and ponder upon it, for a very long time.

The Box.

            I saw a box in a field today, tattered and broken and sagging in important places, and across it someone had painted one word:

Empty.

The scene made me stop for just a moment and reflect on that thought. How did they know? How did the person who wrote that word know the box was now empty?

The box had lived out its life as any box would. It had carried whatever it was originally meant to carry. It then went on to carry the things other people had put in it, possibly carrying their most precious possessions at some point. It had stored things when others needed them put away, and protected those things. It helped people move when they needed to move, it had lived the life it was meant to live. It had a purpose and had served it admirably.

Now that life was coming to a close. Ragged and tattered it sat alone in a field and to add insult to injury someone had marked it as empty.

I know, I know, it was just a box. I felt there was a lesson in there somewhere though.

Right now there are people in my life, and yours, who are out in a field. It may not matter their age but they are alone, tattered and sagging in the important places. That person may even be you. They are not empty. Some may paint that ugly word across them, as someone did that box, but it’s not true.

You have lived the life you needed to live to learn the things you needed to learn. You have served life well. Still;

I actually picked the box up from the field and took it to work with me and placed it in the recycle bin for cardboard.

I hope should I ever find myself out in a field, painted as empty, someone would do the same for me.

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year my friends; New years is by far the best holiday of the season, It beats Christmas by a long shot. Let me tell ya why.

 If I say, “Happy New Year!” to anyone in ear shot I always hear, “Happy New Year!” in return. A simple warm greeting to one and all. At Christmas time if I say, “Merry Christmas!” I usually get a lecture from my Pagan friends about a stolen holiday and why Yule is what I should be saying. If I say, “Happy Holidays!” or “Merry Yule!” to my Christian friends I’m sure to get a lecture on why, “HE’S THE REASON FOR THE SEASON!!!” I finally just gave up and if someone gives me a seasons greeting I reply, “Salutations to you as well!” which confuses the hell out of everyone. I’ve adopted it as my new safe word.

 Relatives. They’re always around at Christmas/Yule (“Salutations everyone!”) and when the drinking starts, you never know which one of them is going to end up stabbed or shot. New Years is spent with friends so you can get as plastered as you like and the worst repercussions will usually be felt the next morning. Especially if you wake up beside the wrong person. (cough, cough…)

 New years is a new beginning for each of us and a promise of new adventures to come. You can spend it with friends or sit and write an entry for your blog and everyone is having a good time.

 Happy New Year my friends. May the coming twelve months bring you joy and happiness and most of all, adventure.

 Milton

Wildflowers.

We all have ideas and beliefs we live by. Some were taught to us and others we picked up along the way. Some we have no clue as to where they came from and yet we still accept them as a part of our self. Still others seem to come from out of the blue, as if a gift from the heavens. This little story is about one of those. A belief I hold dear that had to have been shipped from some other place and planted in my heart. It was taught to me in the central plains on an early fall day.

I was driving westward through what can only be called Gods country. Flat lands of rich soil that had bumper crops of every vegetable you can imagine. Sometimes it seemed the roads went on forever as I drove. Just myself on the highway, cruising along in my old beat up Pontiac and trying to identify the crops along side the road. I could make most of them out. Like Corn. Nice even rows that stretched off as far as the eye could see. Others I wasn't so sure about. There was this type of grain that I’d never seen and so I finally decided it must be Barley. Another I had trouble with was some sort of lettuce, or was it cabbage? I settled on cabbage since I wasn't sure. Field after endless field I passed until finally I got tired of the name game.

It was then that a little question seemed to pop into my head. The question went like this:

"If those crops in the field had a spiritual belief, what would it be?"

Now that’s an odd question. Still, I had nothing better to do with my time so I decided to play along. I was again passing some corn and as I looked it over I figured that Corn has got to be Christian. Standing in nice neat rows just waiting to march into those pearly gates.

Next came the Barley looking grain and I pegged it as Muslim. You see, I know very little about Islam and even less about Barley so the two just seemed to go together. Muslim Barley it was.

As I waited for the next veggie to appear I went ahead and decided that Tomatoes were Pagan. As much as I love the taste of vine ripened tomatoes they just had to be a sin of some sort. Now I’m not equating paganism with sin here. It just seemed to fit in my shallow little brain at the time.

Then those cabbage things showed up again. I had to think a second on that one. Well, they sit close to the ground and are roundish and plump. Kind ‘a like Buddha. That’s it. They were meditating Buddhist Cabbage.

I was really getting the hang of this. After naming a few others I came across a wheat field with a scarecrow still up. That’s Catholic wheat for sure with the Pope giving his blessings from the Vatican portico. This was actually a fun little diversion.

It finally got old and I decided to put a tape in the deck and get lost in some music. As I fumbled around looking for the right tape, another little questioned popped into my head. to this day I have no idea where it came from. This time it went like this:

"And what is the Sunshine and the Rain?"

I was still looking for the right tape and answered without even thinking about it. "The sunshine and the rain is the love of God that makes them all grow." Settling on the Pink Floyd I turned to put it in when my mind balked. The answer I had just given was impossible.

I mean, The Christian Corn knew and taught that only it was on Gods good side. That meant it should be getting ALL the sunlight and all the rain. The Muslim Barley believed the same thing. So did the Catholic wheat and all those other damn vegetables. But that was not what was happening. The sunshine and the rain fell upon each and everyone one of them the same, as if it didn't give a tinkers damn what they believed. The sunshine and the rain was giving to each and everyone of the vegetables just what they needed to grow strong and tall in both spirit and in life.

No, no, no, no, no!! It is not my place in this world to turn over ten thousand years of religious dogma by assigning beliefs to vegetables. I'm a simple man with a simple life and thinking like this was way, way over my head. I decided to just send the thought on its happy way and I'll keep driving mine.

It wouldn't go away. I sat there in the driver’s seat. and the thought sat right there beside me. I have no idea where the original questions came from but I was sure that whoever asked them was laughing at me.

Finally I decided to accept it. The love of God is the sunshine and the rain that makes all of gods creations grow strong and tall. Regardless of what field they are born in or what roots they grow from. With that done I gave thanks to the heavens for the insight, even though I had my doubts about how it would affect me, and promised to hold it dear. I also said thank you for the little lesson and now that it was over I'd just be getting on down the highway.

Finally letting it go I realized I'd been driving on autopilot. Just watching the road while my brain whirred with the ideas and their implications. I blinked my eyes a few times and looked around. What I saw shocked me. I actually had to pull the car over and stop. I felt inside that in no uncertain terms the heavens had just informed me that its not the pupils place to say when the lesson was over

On both sides of the road the fields were covered with wildflowers. Now this didn't make allot of sense either. Who in their right mind would let some of the best growing soil in the world be over run with flowers? No sooner had I asked then I knew the answer.

God would.

Is a wildflower any less a creation of God then the corn? Or the cabbage? Should it not also get its sunlight and its rain? Are the free spirits of the world any less then the most dedicated? I then knew that the wildflowers are the spiritual beings that could never live and thrive in the strait and tall rows of the corn, and the very fertilizer and plant food that makes the barley strong would shrivel the spirit of the wildflower. So out here, in soil as good as all other soil, the wildflower has its own place to grow. The one that had created all things had made sure all things had a place to grow, so the sunlight and rain of his love would let them become the best that they could be.

The crops and the flowers were at their best. They had been raised and had grown strong in the sunlight and the rain. I realized that soon this generation would be harvested so that a new generation could take its place. A sad thought, but just another fact of our existence.

Somehow I couldn't help but pray a bit. In hope that when all the crops are in and its time to rejoice in the end of the season, The feast will have all of them there. The Christian corn with the Catholic Wheat and the Muslim Barley. All joining in the celebration. The centerpiece on the master’s table will hold the brightest and most beautiful bunch of wildflowers that heaven has ever seen. It was a lesson I learned that day that has changed my life and my perspective on all things.

If you ever find yourself out in Gods country or any country for that matter, Don't forget to keep an eye out for the wildflowers. They seem to be able to grow anywhere that the main cash crops aren't. And If by chance you come across a whole field of them then by all means stop and take a long look. You might just catch a glimpse of someone you know, or maybe even a reflection of yourself. And if you notice a big gangly flower out near the middle, just growing this way and that and blooming in all the wrong places, Don't worry about it too much. Its finally growing up to be just what it was meant to be. I should know. It’s me.

Prayer.

For the record, I was raised in a Christian home and both of my parents were ordained hellfire and brimstone Pentecostal Ministers. Still, I could never get into the concepts of Heaven and Hell. I couldn't figure out how they had anything to do with a daily loving relationship with my creator. Then one day I got down on my knee's (I thought it was important at the time) and I said a prayer. It went like this:

"Lord, I don't want paradise when I die. I want a mountain NOW so everyone will see your glory in the everyday things I do."

And the lord answered my prayer cause my life has been one uphill battle after the other ever since. They say you should be careful what you wish for cause you just might get it. I think they should add you should be careful what you pray for too.

Prayer is an amazing thing. It comforts the bereaved, Gives hope to the hopeless, Lends strength to the weak, Calms the shaken, Focus's the mind, Humbles the powerful, Reduces stress,....the list of benefits could go on forever.

Prayer has been credited with curing every horrible affliction known to mankind. From inoperable cancer to speaking French. If someone has prayed over it you'll find someone else that was cured. Now what else on this planet can claim THAT?

What other force on Earth can bring people together for the sole purpose of petitioning the creator of us all on another persons behalf? If you've ever seen a prayer group in action then you'll understand how prayer brings beauty to a species that is often looked upon in a bad light.

If prayer could be bottled and sold as a medicine you can bet the farm it would be too expensive for the average Joe to afford.

But its free.

And that's the most beautiful thing of all.

Anyone, young or old, black or White, In need or not, can call upon it at anytime. All one has to do is focus the mind and start something like this:

"Lord, Remember that mountain I prayed for when I was young and foolish? I was just wondering if it had a backside so I could coast downhill for awhile."

Immigrants.

Roughly two to three hundred years ago my ancestors were living in both Ireland and France. One country was having a famine and the other a revolution. I’d love to say they stood at the forefront of sorting each mess out, but I’m afraid that’s not what happened. No, they high tailed it to the closest shoreline and jumped on the next boat for the new world. Being family of mine I have a sneaky suspicion they were getting out of town just ahead of the lawmen or lynch mob that was looking for them.

I bring this up now because it seems every single day I hear someone yelling about all those damn immigrants and how they’re ruining the country. It was earlier folks, but I’m pretty sure the same faction, that was yelling the same thing when my family got here.

The immigrants today are coming from countries where hope is at a premium, life is cheap and if there was any chance of actually making a living, they would have stayed. There isn’t, so they flee all they have known for the promise of being able to support their family, raise their children in safety and struggle for the chance of happiness. I’d do the same darn thing if it were me.

Considering we have a giant statue of liberty, a constitution that guarantee’s freedom and a standard of living that we boast about to the entire world, It’s really kind of difficult to look down on some poor peasant for sneaking across the border.

We can’t fight change, and that’s a good thing. Looking back through history the universe has never tolerated stagnation. The potatoes in Ireland were all taken from a single cutting so they were genetically identical. One blight destroyed them all and caused the famine that sent my folks to America. Entire species have in bread themselves out of existence. Nothing in this world can survive without genetic diversity.

By mixing our peoples and mixing our bloodlines we give ourselves the diversity to ensure that no single bacteria or virus or bio weapon can destroy us all. There will always be someone immune.

Diversity makes us stronger as a species.

Tear down the walls. Let anyone and everyone live where they choose to live. In the end, it will only make us stronger.

Love and light,

Rev. Wupy.

Confessions.

I’ve come to the point where I need to share something with you, something about why I write. I’d love to say it’s to enlighten or brighten your world, but that would be a lie. I write what I do because it helps me clarify my own path.

I will never tell you what spiritual path you should be walking, but by talking about my own I come to understand it better. In this way you help me to come closer to my creator. My hope is that by sharing my path I can also learn from yours. I’m not here to teach, I’m here to learn.

Your soul is as unique as the fingerprints on your hand, no one knows of the lessons you’ve learned and the insights you’ve gained from them but you. That’s why it’s important to share, so that each of us may learn and grow with one another. Only together can we make this a better world.

I’m not interested in the religion you follow, but in the lessons of life that you have learned. How your faith sustained you when all else in this world fell away. How you survived your darkest moment, and the convictions that brought you through it.

I care not about what religious text you read, I assure you I’ve also read them. I want to touch the strength you found in your tears and how they cleansed your soul, how you were able to rise with the morning sun after a night of terrible bitterness.

I don’t care if you’re rich, or poor, or lonely in a crowd. I want to know if you touched another soul when they were at their weakest, and if that touch helped them, or you, the most.

I want to know if you can sing the praises of our creator, even in those moments when you feel our creator has abandoned you. When the lessons you are learning are darker then the hell you fear. Can you touch God; even in those moments you believe God has abandoned you.

Can you have faith and trust in yourself and your God, and therefore be faithless and untrustworthy to everyone else in your life. Can you be the rock upon which your soul stands, and therefore be the message of the divine?

“This is my truth!”

I write to share my truth with you. My only prayers are that you share your truth with me. It helps me grow, it helps me understand, it brings me closer to the creator of us all.

Love and light to each of you,

Rev. Wupy.