Shouts From Down Under

Don't believe in the resurrection? Headphones on and voila!

Surreal is the world of listening to loud pristine notes of the sharpest quality through a decent set of dangley ear plug / listening devices.

Write this in a blog in less than 8 minutes = THE GOAL. Trim down those thoughts and make it snappy bro. (mumbling this to self and receiving those sideways slit eyed glances from other online centre patrons. Peace bros and sisters.)

So, it's surreal because everyone seems to be dead. They are silent. They are robots turned off. They are unresponsive. They are absentia. They are mannequins frozen in a vacuum of zero passion. Drab fleshly rainbows of skin tone that evoke visions of my fellow staff members. (some, not all)

At the same time, as if through Alice's looking glass, plummeting down the rabbit hole of life's moments rushing by, never to return, are my ears filled with the lustrous barbs, the stinging notes of the richness of music, with lyrics that lift us to a higher plane, that bella vista view from the mountain top of understanding, the connection of recognition. We hold hands with one another through collective experiences, the moments of time when we "know" one another's enjoyment of the same things. We share sand dune tidal upsurges of wisdom; these are the snapshots in our mind when we see what the view is through other people's eyes, and we know at the same time they are peering through ours.

Christmas is one of those times. Happier times.

Death and grief is another of these pulses of human togetherness when fellowship becomes more than a religious word thrown around in the general direction of righteousness; becomes a real event. We could easily mistake this incident of fellowship as more than just human sharing, and think it is of God himself, but that is perhaps a subject needing the Author himself to explain, on the other side of these, our natural lives.

Death and grief and sorrow and dismay and regret and acknowledgement of our tiny existence here as humans; this is the substance of my thinking today, when I consider those who have passed away in that chaos, at the Lindt location in Martin Place Sydney.

http://www.9news.com.au/National/2014/12/23/08/18/Sydney-siege-flower-tribute-to...

The meaning of a song, written by the band members of Crowded house, seem to be appropriate, banging around in my head. Yes, a crowd of pleasant stimulation equaled only by chocolate pieces snapped off and eaten by a greedy living person.

I'm on a bipolar bear high, I know not why, but while it continues, I'll engage my sinews, in wresting the words, into blog and surrounding suburb, of writers and tweeters, haters and bleaters, that remove any happiness, but the less than responsible joy confess. They have their excuse, yet don't refuse.

On the serious "note"

RIP those who died in Sydney. Truly, Four Seasons in One Day, the temperature can drop away, and surely will for us all. So much more should we value things that can focus our minds on something higher. As high as he who has the power over life and death, and power to keep or cast out.





Over to you, dear reader. Merry Christmas.

(Incidentally, I'm not on drugs today, except the natural drug of the joy of being ALIVE.

Sparky