My own personal sunrise.

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I opened my curtains early this morning to my own personal sunrise. Not through the window, as one would expect, but on the wall opposite. My grandfather’s old handmade matchstick church and the bonsai tree were surrounded by a brilliant, flaming glow of red and orange light, just as if the sun were rising behind them.

A large tree obstructs my view of the sunrise (at least till autumn comes) but the sun shining through a tiny gap had created the glorious vision above my book shelf.

How like life, while we cannot yet see the full beauty of the eternal realities they are sometimes reflected in mundane objects (like my wall) and for a moment we embrace their beauty, but are unable to effectively pass it on to others. My photographic skills couldn’t capture the colour, due to the dim light (with flash no colour/ without flash just black). I can only offer a meager description which cannot catch its glory. Even so some things in life can only be shared by those who have also glimpsed them.

Ultimate rush!

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The water was fresh and pure, unadulterated by chemicals and piping. A deep breath of fresh air filled his lungs. He felt… alive! Raising his hands to the sky he yelled for pure joy. It was over.
He began to laugh, a deep-throated laugh that echoed all around him reverberating from the trees and flowers. He began to run free as the breeze, hands brushing the tall grass and leaves. He was free! Where he was he didn’t know only that “life” no longer held him captive. The end had become the beginning. Somewhere doctors fought to bring him back, but his body, old, tired, and riddled with disease no longer responded. He was free!
A touch of sadness tinged his joy. His loved ones, would they understand? Would they see why he couldn’t go back? He’d served his time, done his part, now he was home. He’d wait for them here. They’d come one day when their time was up, when they too had accomplished that for which they went. He wished he could tell them how wonderful it was, how happy he was, but that would distract them. Having seen this, how could they experience joy in their pale earthly lives. He saw the wisdom but was sad to know they’d grieve. Still the sky beckoned him on. In the distance he saw others waiting for him.

“With fear and great joy”

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Fear and intense joy says it even better.
It’s the feeling that comes when you are party to a miracle. Not simply a routine answer to prayer but the unbelievable, unexplainable, totally outside science and understanding happenings.
Fear comes upon us when confronted with the impossible. Powers so far beyond our understanding invade our comfortable little world and we realise we are but dust, less than dust. Yet fear is closely followed by great joy as it dawns upon us that this immense, uncomprehendable power source loves us. Suddenly all is possible, the problems of the world no longer rest as heavy on our shoulders. God is real and he loves us!

What’s Wrong With This Picture?

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from November 2014

Song Bird Songs

jesus wrestling devil

My son put this picture on the screen of the laptop he was setting up for me knowing how much I like upbeat pictures of Jesus.

I thanked him (of course) but didn’t retain it. Though a great picture and well portrayed the premise was off. Though an attempt to portray the more dominant side of Jesus (rather than the frequent milk toast versions) it falls short. At no point even when occupying a human body was the Devil ever on equal enough terms for there to be any power contest. Even during the temptation in the wilderness the Devil had power only to trick and deceive. In the new testament Jesus  just orders the demons around.

So while this is a great picture and I love it, a truer one might be (thank God) that Jesus appears and the Devil makes a run for it!

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A walk with the Dream Master. (Dream master4)

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flash fiction from October 2014

Song Bird Songs

footprints

“Can we go walking?” she asked in the depths of a troubled dream.
“Of course, come,” he answered, “just reach out your hand.” An icy precipice stood before her feet.
“Its not really there,” he whispered, “you just think it is, so for you it’s real, like the gap between our worlds”. Taking his hand she stepped over.
“Now, let’s walk. See the snow is deep here. That’s when you leave the deepest, longest lasting marks, when the snows of life are deep. Look out over the valley and realise how far you’ve come. It feels a little lonely, but this is where you can hear my voice best, also the voices of others”.
“Let’s go higher.” Transforming like spirits they soar upward. “Up here we can see much but leave no footprints for others to follow. It would be easier for you if I brought you here, you could…

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Twilight Falls

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from July 2014

Song Bird Songs

sea sunset

Twilight years evoke a response as a cord of music entices the ear and stirs the senses reverberating in the dusky silence. You long to sing but don’t yet know the words or melody, just an echo stirring your heart like a gentle breeze, sweet to the lips. Pause, breathe in its essence, soft, fragrant, defused.

Watch as the sun dips low on the horizon and purple and crimson splash their colours on the sky. Listen for the echoes far off. You’ll not hear the melody till the sun sets and things of life grow dim, but you hear the echoes. Like ripples on the water they come to you from the declining sun, borne on the tide of faith. What sweetness can be found here, standing at the water’s edge as the sun bathes the ocean in scarlet. Its dark red orb sinks ever lower seeking its reflection in…

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Dream Magic.

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dreams med

Do we all dream alike? I’m often amazed at dream concepts related or portrayed in paintings and movies so vastly different to my own. I wonder at the diverse worlds we enter when sleeping.
Personally my dreams generally come in two varieties, what I term “frustration dreams” (often after a stressful day) where I’m trying to find something (a place, person, or item of clothing – even the bathroom!) but just can’t find it.

The other more usual dreams are practical or inspirational. In these dreams I discover solutions to problems, new creative ideas and of course my best stories! I often take it for granted that if I “sleep on it” the answer will probably be right there in my head when I wake up. I’ve discovered though many folks find this unusual. Do my fellow writers also glean words and stories in that wonderful stage between sleep and waking?
As a child I suffered a lot from nightmares feeling myself attacked by some evil force, in total darkness, unable the move or speak, powerless. Thankfully this all changed when I discovered my “magic” word – Jesus. Shouting it out in my dreams gave instant and permanent freedom from nightmares (though I can have troubling dreams on rare occasions they are never frightening and I feel a measure of control if needed.)

I’ve also had a few “prophetic dreams” particularly when I was young and still “finding my way”. These were very different from my usual dreams and were later fulfilled acting as signposts at crucial times in my life.
I’m a lucid dreamer (meaning I’m usually subtly aware when I’m sleeping and can steer my dreams to a great degree thus affecting the outcome). I love the state when sensitivity is heightened and ideas, solutions, (and stories) flow through my waking mind. Sometimes I can’t remember a dream but the peace it gave me in some stressful situation remains on waking.
I tend to approach sleep with a slight air of excitement as one going on a voyage of exploration where new ideas, truths, and glorious pictures become reality for a while and in passing I can gather some up like passing star dust to share with others.

I don’t agree at all with Freud and his interpretations which seem a futile attempt to catalog a realm that is truly beyond our understanding as yet, somehow soiling its beauty in the process. I tend to agree with J P Jackson that dreams are a wonderful gift that we can learn to explore to our profit. I find it strange when some Christians reject the idea that dreams can also be God given. The Bible is full of prophetic dreams – take Daniel for example!
It’s my personal belief that when we sleep and our bodies go to work repairing and growing that our minds likewise sort, catalog, and process the things we’ve been through that day (which is another reason we need more sleep in traumatic times).
What about you? What do you believe and what are your dreams like?

lucid dreaming

(Portrayal of lucid dreaming I found)

Twilight Falls

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sea sunset

Twilight years evoke a response as a cord of music entices the ear and stirs the senses reverberating in the dusky silence. You long to sing but don’t yet know the words or melody, just an echo stirring your heart like a gentle breeze, sweet to the lips. Pause, breathe in its essence, soft, fragrant, defused.

Watch as the sun dips low on the horizon and purple and crimson splash their colours on the sky. Listen for the echoes far off. You’ll not hear the melody till the sun sets and things of life grow dim, but you hear the echoes. Like ripples on the water they come to you from the declining sun, borne on the tide of faith. What sweetness can be found here, standing at the water’s edge as the sun bathes the ocean in scarlet. Its dark red orb sinks ever lower seeking its reflection in the waves, and worlds touch just for a moment. You sense vibrations of a world beyond present sight, sighs and visions, sounds and touches born hither on the wind, enticing, calling …

You heard it before, long ago. Once heard it is hard to forget, it reverberates in your soul, the dulcet tones, soft touch of the air, blended colours awakening to your eyes. It waits at sunset when you come home.

Enjoy this twilight, sweetest wine, as a vintage long stored and matured. Savor it, swill the taste in your mouth, smell its aroma. It is a pungent brew and will make you smile, perhaps even laugh at times.

See the fire kindled on the beach. The sun grows dim but the blaze of love shall keep you warm till it dips as fire in the ocean. Throw on things you no longer need, outgrown things of youth, empty ideas, false concepts. No need of them now, consign them to the flames, even your shoes, for there is not far to walk, and the sand is soft and smooth. You are tired now and do not wish to travel more, but there is yet a little time, time to stand in the fires glow and watch the colours of the sky as the sun descends in majesty. It has been a good life, touching the heart of many an ocean and strange, wonderful creatures you met on the sands.

Now it is the final beach, no more wonderings to and fro. Now is time to pause, to listen and in the sound of the surf to hear the echoes again, gently calling. It is not time yet, the fire yet burns, the sun still a ball of flame in the sky. Come, dance, sing, roll free in the surf and lie propped in your lover’s arms as you listen to the echoes the waves bring across the ocean and write them as memorials to your times here. Sit in the twilights lingering glow and listen.