God

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God is music. It causes something to stir within the human particles within its universe or sphere of influence.
The particles begin moving, thrashing and colliding until they coalesce into a sea of varying waves of expression.
A particle does not necessarily realise the awesomeness of this until they take a moment to change perspective and try take in and observe the living universe in its perceived entirety.
What do they see?

This image is not my own.
This image is not my own.

They see a sea if different bodies expressing themselves accordingly; but collectively, they are the expression of the music itself and it is the music that determines the quality and character of life in that universe.
But what the particles don’t all realise is that God has different expressions and although many worship music, others worship literature and art, and if you look a bit more carefully, you will find God everywhere.
Not all particles understand that music, literature, art and all the other Gods also have Gods, as do those Gods and so on and so forth.
This is the best I can perceive eternity.
So…
What God do you worship and more importantly, what kind of God are you?

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Puzzles

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You and I are puzzles residing in a greater puzzle.
Let’s align our pieces. Make a shape to make a picture, because without us solving for our individual puzzle, we can’t expect to see the bigger picture whether that bigger picture is two puzzles or the sum total of every existing thing.

The abstract, chaotic pieces are there, we just need to make sense of them and shift them in to place, maybe then we will see not puzzles, but art – as life should be seen.

Sven Part II

Sven is a great lover of fans, water and bright, shiny, reflective trinkets. That’s all he does all day, lounge around absorbing light from his trinkets and occasionally dunking his head in room temperature still water. Leaf people. One day Sven had his head submerged in a seat of water when he heard a violent rapping at the door. To Sven’s confusement his old friend and former publicist, Wayne, kicked down the door.

Wayne Rankledon is a Pickle Pirate born and bred. He tried only two other career paths: A lawyer and a publicist. After that he just concentrated on being a Pickle Pirate. Wayne had the most incredible toothpick leg. He acquired it at a cocktail party at the White House in the early 80’s. Being a pirate he consumed too much grog that night and ended up stumping Richard Nixon right in the mouth while he was cleaning his teeth with a presidential toothpick – All because Nixon had his car parked over the Pickle Pirates jar of Brine.

Wayne Hobbled in radiating excitement and wielding banana skins in his hands. Wayne burst straight into his exciting story about a dust bunny King Pin and a treasure map etched into several banana skins. Sven just sat there in awe at the Pirate’s tale of dust bunnies, unimaginable shiny, reflective trinkets and how Wayne, the Pickle Pirate, had the banana skin treasure map in his possession. Needless to say Sven was well keen for this adventure. Before the two adventurers could embark on their journey, Wayne needed two things; something to quench his pirate sized thirst and water pistols filled with Window lean. Sven knew just what the pickle pirate needed. He went over to the kitchen filled the kettle with rum, turned it on and returned to Wayne with loaded water pistols and matching holsters.

Sven makes the BEST pirate tea. Pirate tea is indeed a delicacy, a sophisticated pirate drink. Its contents are a kettle of rum and a tea bag. The last time Sven made a kettle of pirate tea the majority of northern Canada blacked out. They blamed the sun and his flare. 

Whilst chugging down several pints of pirate tea and cleaning his toothpick peg leg, Wayne preached to Sven a brief history of the Dust Bunny King Pin…

 

 

Please note I do not own the pictures and the pictures are in no way related to Sven. 

Benedict

He was a seagull named Benedict. He was the one who woke me up. He sat perched on the open window sill. His tone was casual as he asked “Sleep well?” he paused as I rubbed my eyes and slowly sat up in my bed. The air was icy and my feet felt frozen. I pulled open the duvet and saw snow on my feet. I blinked hard as my eyes tried to focus.

“You dream anything?” Benedict asked.

“I…um…just woke up from visiting a badger who lives in a tree trunk buried in snow…But I thought I…”

“Exited your dream?” casually interrupted the seagull. “You know, an exit is just an entrance to another place. Any threshold you cross is both an exit and an entrance, it’s all about perception. You didn’t exit that dream, my friend, you entered into another. Another realm you might say.” Benedict went on to scratch his back with his beak.

“What should I do then?” I asked.

“Well, since you have met the badger, there is someone else you must meet. Everyone calls him ‘The Watchmaker’, a fantastic, gem of a being. If the badger spoke to you, then you are ready to meet ‘The Watchmaker’. Follow me.”

Benedict jumped off the window sill and floated to the floor. He waddled out the bedroom door and down the passage, which seemed longer that it usually did. “Where are we going now?” I questioned still half asleep from my previous dream.

“We going to meet ‘The Watchmaker’, but we need transport.” He stopped at the bathroom door turned and faced the toilet. “There’s the transport.” he said staring at the porcelain throne.

“Uh, that’s my toilet.” I said in an obvious tone.

“Yes, well done. You will find everything you need behind the door. Make sure you put everything on and flush yourself down the tubes, mmkay? I won’t be far behind.” He gave me a smile that only a seagull could give. He must be enjoying this.
Behind the door I found flippers, snorkel, goggles, water-wings and a swimming cap with peacock feathers attached to it. Without question I put on the attire and looked at the seagull.
He gave out a shrill but hearty laugh that only a seagull with seagull humour could express.

“I feel stupid.” I said looking down at my ridiculous traveler’s uniform.

“Ah, but after some words with ‘The Watchmaker’ I can assure you, you will feel slightly less stupid.” He gave me an honest seagull smile and I couldn’t help but return it with my honest human smile. “OK.” I said hidden behind an uncertain, forced laugh.
I stepped awkwardly into the toilet bowl. I felt the water around my feet and gave a half grimace – half-smile to the seabird.

“Wait, I almost forgot” said Benedict. “Here, you will need this.” with his beak he pulled from out the shower, a kick board.

I held it in my hands and stared down at it in disbelief. Before I could say or question anything, Benedict was already next to the toilet, “OK let’s go!” And with that, I was flushed down the toilet like an expired gold-fish.

 

The badger

I stood up and wrapped the scarf snug around my neck. As I was putting on my jacket the badger entered the room and walked over to the fireplace.
“Matthew.” he said, as he got up on his hind legs and took a long draw on his hash pipe, “The idea is to change yourself for the betterment of others, not for the betterment of self.” He sat down on his rocking chair as he exhaled and smiled.
I gave the badger a nod as I opened the thick wooden door. The chill from the wind blew my face numb and snow fell to my feet. I walked bravely out of the badger’s house into the cold as I exited my dream.

 

Shine

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This weekend I dived into fists full of dirt and wind.
When I opened them I sensed glistening flecks of gold.
When I opened my eyes I realized I was one of them.
We all spoke,
blowing away more of the dirt.
The words spilt like water,
washing over us,
running down our golden bodies
And as dawn broke, we sat in the hands of the lake.
The light caught us and we all shone.