The Presence of The Divine Makes My Life Sing! It Rumbles The Sky with Laughter Ringing Invisible Bells The Livelong Day.

 God Poet Transmitting…….

To paraphrase Carl Sandburg; the delusion creeps in on little rat’s feet. These are not the days of Thanksgiving with Norman Rockwell. It’s more a bloated… drunken… binge fest… a la Jackson Pollock or just a day off to do something else. Gratitude is not a common theme across the blasted American landscape ♫above the looted plains♫ Gratitude is more a sign of weakness now, and… the threat that you might be expecting more.

It’s not a good time for the snatch n’ grab artists cause a lot of places are closed. They’re not going to be grateful. Many of the shuttered storefronts won’t be re-opening because they had already closed down earlier… driven out of business by one thing or another. I’d say we’re definitely looking at one of those winters of our discontent.

My personal celebration of Thanksgiving is to reflect on all that I have to be thankful for. That could take all day. Let’s see if I can itemize a few of them. It seems like quite a few of them are for things I am grateful I am not present for, and not waiting on… or hoping for.

I am grateful I am not on The East Coast, and… I am grateful I am not on The West Coast. I am grateful for all kinds of other places I am not presently in. I am grateful for the entitled and the billionaires for exposing themselves to the eyes of The World. I’m grateful that the cash register nation in The Middle East has shown its true colors of a literal 50 shades of gray; can I have another, Sir!

Yeah… I seem to be drifting across the border into Sarcastia and Sardonica. Better not to leave The Reader with an ill taste in their mouths before they have even had breakfast… much less dinner. How about them Cowboys!

I am most glad to have the absolute certitude of the existence of God. I am unspeakably thankful that he speaks to me many times every day, and not only via the inner voice from The Upper Room. I am consoled and comforted by the company of angels who hover all around. I am thrilled at the majesty of The Sun who pours his golden elixir upon me all the livelong day.

I am beautifully startled by the sudden breeze through the wind chimes… that I KNOW are being played by invisible fingers… as if upon a harp with bells. Each day, I get to feed the birds who fly in from everywhere and who sing from every available branch. The hummingbirds have gone, but they’ll be back whether I am still here or not.

Everywhere I turn… there is something to be thankful for, through its presence or absence. The Eye of Sauron is mostly focused elsewhere… where its business interests lie. Gratitude is a kind of amulet that protects the bearer from want and travail. It also sings from every available branch of my being that is forever under construction as a habitation for angels.

Today… in many places… it will be a rerun of people passed out in their chairs… poisoned by the processed comestibles… too much of everything not worth having… by people with nothing but complaints… for life not proceeding swimmingly… in the absence of all that is worth having. It is especially true in those times of a surfeit of all that you don’t want, that you are most aware of what you do… want.

Multicolored vincas bloom outside my window. The leaves are turning on a tall tree beyond the casita. They might not completely turn in this place that never sees snow. I’m glad for that. Snow is a young man’s game. Still… it is better that whatever chills may come into my life, they are not coming from the inside.

Ah… what a hellish thing it must be to have grown cold and tight within. So many of us shut off The World outside in Times of Material Darkness. It’s a dreadful irony that one generates the other. Whatever is going on inside you is responsible for what you run into out here.

This is another reason why thankfulness and gratitude are saving graces. Light attracts light, and these are light-kissed emotions. They originate in a finer place before they precipitate down into the manifest… looking for fertile soil, and… as often finding stony ground… grown cold and tight… pulling a shawl of brambles and thorns about itself.

I’m reminded of The New York subway… how much like prison culture it seemed. You didn’t want to catch anyone’s eye; “What are you looking at?” “Nothing.” “Nothing!” “You calling me nothing?” Now… I understand it’s much much worse.

I haven’t been there in more than 20 years. Now… most of the country is in some stage of that, cold… grim… tight… and seething with anger… kindled by fear. I am very grateful that I am not in New York City OR… Gaza, but… we are all Palestinians now.

I am profoundly thankful that I am not in prison… meaning The Penitentiary of The Mind. I am less concerned about external prisons, having been there and done that, and not in a short-time fashion. There’s too much Richard Lovelace in me to take any of that seriously. Like he said, “Minds innocent and quiet take that for a hermitage.”

I’ve always admired Richard. He was one of the wealthiest men in England and he impoverished himself by financing wars against his own country. That takes some balls… and this was even before Dickens cleaned the place up a bit. They were hanging pre-teens then for stealing a loaf of bread. Given the living conditions of the time, that was probably a promotion. So… I’m glad too that I don’t live in The Elizabethan Age. That’s some distance in the rearview mirror.

Back then was before toilets (I think), so people shit into holes in the floor and that would eventually fill up the basement. If the floors were rotten, people were known to fall through and that was the end of them. People don’t have much sense of history or what we’ve come out of, and look at what a lack of gratitude has done to The Age of Convenience! We have just about everything now and people are so unhappy.

There’s a moral here somewhere, and some people still haven’t learned not to shit where they eat.

I have so very… very… very much to be grateful for!!! I don’t know where to begin. The list is long. Supreme among all the things I am grateful for is The Divine’s presence in my life. My mind clenches in horror at the thought of people who live without this… and seem to have not a care otherwise. It doesn’t matter what I might lack… so long as I do not lack that.

The presence of The Divine makes my life sing! It rumbles the sky with laughter! It rings invisible bells throughout the whole of the day. It charms and protects me so that nothing inimical can approach. It is the be-all and end-all of everything past… present… and yet to come. It is a candle in the window of every passing night… presaging the dawn without, and the dawn within. It is only a matter of moments strung together… before the both of them occur.

The most powerful and profound truth about The Presence of God is the inevitability of it. Once established… there is NOTHING… anywhere… that can hinder the coming of The Light entire… so that the whole world is made incandescent and suffused with a sustained brilliance before which all Evil must flee with scorched tails.

Gratitude and thankfulness… pile upon one another… till they reach the Heavens in joyful praise of The One… who birthed that thankfulness within. It is a magnet for all good things. It is an inexpressible truth… speaking in flaming tongues of love for those with ears to hear. It circles round itself into citadels of sanctuary and protection from all harm. Simple gratitude of any kind reaches The Throne of God every time without delay. It pleases The Divine to hear of it.

Today, I will be having a Louisiana Cajun Crayfish… pescatarian gumbo stew… over a much-tweaked Idaho baked potato. That’s it; eat widely and fare poorly, I say. Well… maybe a small bowl of the Costco Butter Toffee Cashews. That will be the whole of it. The food on the plate is incidental. It is the finer food of invisible nature that will be the real feast for me.

Imagine!!! Here I am… unhassled by anything exterior or interior… hosting the finest guests in all of creation at my table. What a festival of lights it will be! They pour in through the crystals in the window. They dance with the bougainvillea blossoms on the paving stones out back. They shimmer in the rays of The Sun. They sing their songs of love, and… whisper… welcome everyone.

End Transmission…….

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