The Wandering in Paradise

The suitcases of a war gone by and the helmets are a reminder that the Goliath grunting from across the valley even seems to be filtering into the serenity of Bali. Last night some test missiles drifted off into the ocean. No it was not my dream. This Goliath huffs and puffs… A lone voice. The trouble with the sounds of violence is that they share the same noise. Whether it’s a trump card or a Kim bit the sound is out of synch with the efforts of many people to heal relationships, restore the creation and enjoy the gifted lives we share. Living in paradise has something to do with redemption.


The demarcation of the store along gender lines may be an act of consumer convenience but the memories of gender separation in many world religions or even the lack of alternative gender choices and lifestyles may be a far cry from paradise. With every trump-eter that toots their horn of distinction we wander further away from a world in need of healing mercy.


A house planted in a rice field some years ago appears to have succumbed to the return of the jungle. One of the lessons of nature that reminds us again and again, that when something is annoying, wait a while. Wars will end. People will celebrate diversity. Our bricks and stones will become rooting powder and the grandiosity of our rightness will become the last post.

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