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Bill Watkins, Traveling Poet

Category Archives: God

It’s Not the Virus That Kills

31 Friday Jul 2020

Posted by Bill Watkins in Alcohol, Alcoholics Anonymous, Alcoholism, God, Government, Health, Poetic Blog, Political, Politics, Spirituality

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Addiction, Alcohol, Alcoholics Anonymous, Alcoholism, Covid, Covid-19, Cure, Doctors, Eternal Life, FDR, God, Health, Joy, Love, Mexico, Panic, Peace, Political, Politics, San Miguel, San Miguel de Allende, Spanish, Spirituality, Stephen King, Truth, Volaris, Western Medicine

Virus1

-by Bill Watkins 7/31/2020

Death stats are reported by folks who believe deeply in death.  Physical death.  That’s it, we’re done, the physical is all…  But isn’t there another way to live and see life, death and health?  The spiritual way, one under-represented right now in governments world-wide?

Back when I still believed in the invalid United States of America, I wrote an article entitled “What is Health?” which included Twitter poll results from users, who shared their definitions:

1. Bill Watkins:  “Health is a Peace of Mind, Knowing I did the best I could to be the best person I was capable of becoming in all my affairs.”

2. “Duck,” Anti-Circumcision Activist:  “Health is discovering yourself and feeding your truth.”

3. Online T-shirt Salesman:  “Health means your state of being and ability to function naturally.”

4. Aaron V. from Lake Tahoe:  “Health is natural whole foods, clean water, clean air, a nature soundscape with wildlife, good social relationships, the freedom to explore and then see self-improvement or progress, and having a shelter or sanctuary where one can retreat to and be certain to have all of those things despite what else is going on in the world.”

5 Sonya on Twitter:  “I believe saying ‘I am healthy’ is relative to your own circumstances. For me, I feel health is a state of physical wellness as well as mental wellness. I believe it’s hard to say I am healthy if either one is compromised to a degree where we are not enjoying living our lives. If we are feeling the best we can for our age and capacity – in that everything is functioning as well as can be expected – and we are getting through each and every day with quality of life in tact, even if it has to be aided by medication, then to me that is healthy. If body and mind are still functioning well enough for me to enjoy life, then I am healthy.”

6. College Newspaper Staff:  “I’d say health is a state of being. I think it’s a perceived value of physical, emotional, and mental stability and regularity for each individual person. The achievement of ‘healthy’ will differ from person to person based on lifestyle, availability of nourishment and space, and personality.”

7. Dan R., Twitter:  “Being good in mind body and soul.”

8. Yvonne on Twitter:  “Health is a balance of spiritual, mental and physical well-being”

9. Anastacia on Twitter:  “Health to me means that I’m happy, I am not sick, I can laugh with out being in pain.”

10. Poetry Group on Twitter:  “Health is the harmony of our body.”

11. Carlos M. on Twitter:  “Wellness is a holistic approach to life that includes diet and exercise first with traditional medical care second. ”

12. Ariel B. on Twitter:  “Health is Peace of Mind.”

13. Marion W. on Twitter:  “Time set aside in solitude and/or quietness to grow, reflect, write and decompress.”

And… how about Google?

14. Google:  “Health is the state of being free from illness or injury.”

***

A lot of different perspectives, so why do governments think they can represent us all on this issue?  They stay away from mixing the state with religion, but aren’t they coming across many of our personal, even religious beliefs by putting their hands into such a controversial bowl of heaven keys?

“Peace of mind” is a short version of my definition for health, as it was for one of my Twitter poll participants—something that has little to do with Western medicine’s extracting blood, focusing on the physical, administering drugs.  Core to the Western medical business is core to religion: giving folks peace of mind, that they will heal from hardship.  Religion goes on to speak of heaven, doctors stop at peace…  Maybe those two words and concepts are in some ways interchangeable.

But in neither heaven nor earth will it ever be right to decide someone else’s health path, if that someone is an adult of sound mind.  Who should decide mental soundness?  I’d say, based on my Twitter poll and personal conviction, more people should be involved in health decisions, from different fields of study, and different beliefs.  There is more to heaven, earth, and health than is cooked up in Western medicine’s cake, and it’s time governments recognize that, call out doctors for the fallible people they are.  They have fancy degrees, I concede the hard work that goes into them, but who can say something divine or perfect grants them?

To me health is a peace of mind, knowing I did my best to be the best person I’m capable of becoming—a spiritual concept, borrowed shamelessly from the late, great John Wooden.  “Death” to this humble citizen of Mexico, the invalid United States and someday England: doesn’t exist, if with faith in God you lived a good life.  “No good thing ever dies,” mused Stephen King once upon a time, and I agree.  So why all the talk of “Covid deaths?”  Did those souls not live?  Why not talk about their life?  Where is the gratitude for the air we breathe, for the lives we get to live, for our amazing immune systems?  If this was our last day to live on earth, what would you do with it?  Panic?  Complain about death?  Whine about a virus?

Not me.  The above set of questions reminds me of my old life, one in which I was spiritually dead, playing sports and drinking alcohol instead of loving my parents, life, a woman, and being an honest, honorable person.  There are worse things than physical death…  Among them, a life in fear, and as such out of love—if you adhere to St. Paul’s ideal.  So love life!  Live today!!  Say thanks to what you say thanks to, because tomorrow is a big question mark, salvation for me in peace of mind, something I’ll never get wearing a mask or fearing my fellow man for any reason whatsoever.

Fear is the killer, folks, FDR echoed here…  Fear is the virus.  Inoculate yourself against it by living great days in faith, in love and free of alcohol or drugs…  Thanks for your attention, an open mind following truth as a key to serenity, willingness putting us on the road, proper relations with our fellows and the earth a guarantee for eternal life.  Never death

My Bout with Covid-19

11 Monday May 2020

Posted by Bill Watkins in Covid, God, Health, Poetic Blog, Spiritual, Spirituality

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Christian Science, Covid, Covid-19, God, Health, Joy, Love, Panic, Peace, Science, Western Medicine

Covid1

by Bill Watkins 5/11/2020

***

I picked up a weird virus a couple months ago.  Something I had never felt before, a dramatic ache starting in the supermarket one day, then a strong three week fever.  No cold symptoms, just the fever and a horrible headache, which seemed an exaggeration of the one I had before picking up the virus.

I get sick when I’m off-balanced in life, in this case I had been writing too much, eight days in a row without a break.  When I write a lot, I rest a lot.  If I rest too much, including the use of ice packs to my neck, I will develop a headache from too much pillow contact… That’s how I came into the supermarket that day, and I picked up an ugly bug.

I blame no one.  Not the little girl I met on the bus to town, whose mom said she had diarrhea and was heading to the doctor’s.  Not the people I greeted at the market, or anyone else on my bus… This was the beginning of the Covid-19 panic, and all the market employees were wearing masks, making me think I was searching for produce in a hospital emergency room.

There was fear of illness, my own headache and being off-balance, and there you go… I got the evil thing that was out there.  Was it Covid-19?  I’ll never know, because I don’t go to doctors or believe in Western medicine.  I’m sober eighteen years, live in the mountains, know what is healthy for me and do it (most of the time).  Doctors’ offices are overcrowded, over-air-conditioned and over-priced.  No thanks.  I fail to see the health there.

Drawing blood out of my body, where I always thought it would do the most good; giving me experimental drugs at a hint of depression; selling experimental science as if it were factual; compromising itself with politics, getting rich and those viper insurance companies hiking up already exorbitant prices!  No thanks.  I prefer the country, my faith in God, dabble in Christian Science—using the bible and prayer for a positive attitude and health.

But I did get sick!  I get sick about every other year… I admit, this one was wild, stayed with me for a couple months off and on, just that fever ickiness washing over me every once in a while… Sickness!  I got it because I was off-balanced and my immune system was down from its normal strength.  Did I get it because someone “infected me?” Did I get it because I wasn’t wearing a mask?  Did I get it because I was not practicing the blatantly un-Christian concept of “social distancing?”  No.  No.  No.  I reject all of those theories posing as facts for governments to use in their irresponsible, un-Christian, anti-spiritual, pro-Western medicine, shady legislating. Why shady?  The U.S. Government (nor any other I know) has never even defined the word “health…” That’s a big deal when bills try to address “health”-care!

I like good science.  X-rays are cool, for instance… Facts!  I’m saddened by the Covid-19 Panic of 2020 for two reasons: 1. It’s bad spirituality on display and 2. it’s bad science as well.  Yelling out a virus’ name, being scared of it, obsessing about it creates a false god.  Religions which have cowered from the virus should be ashamed, re-read the Ten Commandments in the bible, and “Have no gods” before the One God!  Yell out God’s name!  Fear that!!  Center thoughts on God, love and Faith, then…. “Where the heck did that silly virus go?”  It goes away, like every other flu that’s ever hit a flu season!!

That’s what my strange virus did over time, like any other sickness I’ve ever felt.  It went away… It was a hard struggle, horrible headaches, fever, aches, losing pizazz and my passion for life, not being able to write more than a couple paragraphs in three weeks!  Bummers galore!  I even cursed God out, I have to admit, more than once!  Mostly because in the middle of my sickness the locals where I live in Mexico set off fireworks a stone’s throw from my house, the week of Saint Joseph, littering our peace with bombs.  Went right to my temple, throbbing, shooting pain to go with the chest pain and twitches I always get around those stupid things.

Then the mosquitoes came… Just when I’m getting some sleep to bash that virus out, the buzz at my ear, and I’d have to hunt down the buggers for an hour!  Calamity! Injustice!  Why’d you make this horrible crap, God!?!?  I was ticked.  And sick… Near suicidal, flashing thoughts of self-harm… But… little by little… I apologized to God, that saint’s week of dumb fireworks passed, the mosquitoes gave me a break.

In 12-Step groups, I used to hear the expression, “God never gives us more than we can handle.”  I think there’s something there.  I was brought to the brink, but I had enough faith, positive thinking through my Christian Science training, and patience to gut it out and win.

Faith and Fear Amid Covid Panic

04 Monday May 2020

Posted by Bill Watkins in God, Health, Poetic Blog, Positive Thinking, Positivism

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Tags

Covid, Covid-19, Earth, Ella Wheeler Wilcox, God, Joy, Love, Mary Baker Eddy, Mexico, Native American, Panic, Peace, Positivism, Spirituality, USA, Western Medicine

monalisa-4893660_1280

Talk health.  The dreary, never-changing tale
Of mortal maladies is worn and stale.
You cannot charm, or interest, or please
By harping on that minor chord, disease.
Say you are well, or all is well with you,
And God shall hear your words and make them true.
—Ella Wheeler Wilcox

***

You ever lean back and track your thoughts?  Decide if they are positive or negative… Helpful or harmful?

A new strain of flu comes from a foreign land, so what do the masses do?  They do what masses do…  Panic.  What did the Catholic Church do?  Here where I live in Mexico and I think worldwide, they did to mass what masses do… they listened to a bunch of men preach, evicted God and headed for their masks and homes!

“Fear people, stay inside, stay away…” If someone was to track orders from the U.S. and other governments around this Covid virus panic, you’d have to say they were sort of negative. Certainly anti-Christian!  The answer to the question, “What would Jesus do?” or even Mother Teresa is in obvious contrast to what public officials are doing, panicking at the direction of Western medicine.

Western medicine is the world’s number one religion, I’m finally admitting, a weird thought but true in light of who’s calling the shots for government action in crisis.  So far, there’s a playful tone to this, but are you ready for a serious one?  I hope so… Here it is: God is waiting to be our guide again, Higher Power—call it what you want. The Native Americans called it the Great Spirit, something one can connect with in nature.

But the American government killed and removed Native Americans so they could build the “greatest democracy on earth.”  Concrete, asphalt and monuments to ourselves amidst the trash and noise of helicopters, littered cigarette butts and beer cans.  Covid-19 is a false god pitched by over-paid medical experts, keeping their money rolling in as the world’s economy stays at home afraid…

There’s a wonderful answer and cure to Fear, developed over many years of human existence.  It’s called Faith.  Say it with a smile, then find within you the First People spirit, that inner Druid, that innocent child in love with Creation, breathing in air freely and joyfully without a mask.  Faith… that I can move a mountain, sing in that musical, write that book, dance that dance to celebrate in the way God as I understand God wants me to celebrate!

But fear established the United States, ran from England to steal this land before Spain grabbed it, brought those guns to scare the natives, cannons to blow them and nature up with deer and peace killing blasts.  We could stop and apologize. Start listening to nature, God and the Native American Great Spirit, smile and be happy one day at a time… Stay home if sick, but if well be merry and thank the Creator for another day by loving it with all your heart, inside or out of the home!

We could decide to stop listening to fear and negativity, that people are going to infect us, start again having faith that they’re more likely to bless us… Band together, re-discover that love and faith destroys Death.  Love and faith are eternal, so let’s call out the News for lying to us about Covid deaths.  STOP WHINING AND COWERING, WORLD!!!

Say you are well, or all is well with you,
And God shall hear your words and make them true.

Where God and Earth Meet

20 Friday Dec 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in God, Nature, Poem, Poems, Poetic Blog, Poetry, Spiritual, Spirituality

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Bible, Creation, Evolution, God, Joy, Love, Mother Nature, Peace, Poem, Poetry, Spiritual, Spirituality

Mother Earth2

The bible was law, among
other things, code with rules
and goals set for students
and readers to follow for
spiritual fulfillment, and as
a guide to reach heaven.

Civilization needs law, people
packed in together, concrete
and asphalt beginning to take
us away from the Earth, nature
itself being our first and only
needed book to guide us…

The smile is within, the bloom
on the field, many plants in
limbo needing more sun or
more rain, the cycle of life all
around us—including paper
and ink, laws and rules fine…

God, good orderly direction,
higher powers, the Supreme
Mover of all things; it’s a
relationship we may have
with a simple ask, or a prayer.
Use a book or the tree to

help you overcome your fear.
What unifies is a proper guide,
what separates in negative vibe
from a lower power, as my AA
sponsor would say, powerful too—
Pick one, it’s up to you!

Anne

07 Thursday Nov 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in Alcoholism, God, Poem, Poems, Poesia, Poetic Blog, Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Amends, Blessings, Curses, First Crush, God, Love, Peace, The Devil, Truth

Anne1 -- Flower

The first one is blessed by God.  Nature.  Truth.
She comes to you, when you are ready, when
She too, is that part of you that’s ready,
The smile, the joy within finds its way out

And Love springs.

Alcohol as “drink,” un-guided living, the Devil
Himself intervene with love sometimes,
and we surrender it to adoption services, or
Some later date, convenient to the scared

And confused…

Anne was my first crush, and could have been
The only love of my life, and I would have been
blessed—this, if life was not saturated in Alcohol
as “drink,” the Devil playing with us, confusing

and Usurping—

Like the land in America we stole, usurping the
Name of God, Christ, the Bible to steal land from
a Natural people connected to the Great Spirit,
Creation itself forgotten by Europe, Rome,

Book thumps and war.

We killed the Druids and almost their spirit.
Romans conquered themselves, we too—
The English took on the worst of Rome, made
it our own, conquered ourselves and God

in Greed for the Crown.

Anne, meanwhile, couldn’t have sparkled more,
Myself unable to tell her I loved her.  Because
I was a Viking.  And Roman.  And Alcoholic.
And bedeviled.  I thought a flammable liquid

Good to drink.

***

I am a fool, am fooled—was born a drunk,
a liar and a thief.  A violent war monger
un-guided and destined for Hell—

Truth help me.  God help me.  Great Spirit
and Creation forgive me; my father’s sins
are mine, I climb and escape them only
with doses daily of Truth, doses daily of

Love and forgiveness.

Anne lives in mountains, as do I—she there,
Me here, and I cannot make the weather
move her to me, only asking higher powers
to reward willingness for amends and Truth

with Health.

Will I die an example of what not to do?
Will I live to the hilt making amends for the past?
Can my message help the next child, blessed by Love,
But tempted and un-guided on his way to Hell?

Truth, son, will bring you back to Anne…

The Voice of God

13 Sunday Jan 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in God, Poem, Poems, Poesia, Poetic Blog, Poetry, Spiritual

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

God, Higher Power, Joy, Love, Nature, Peace, Spirituality

god

Who’s listening?

There is a pulse and a spirit
under and over our lives,
giving us sanity, clues, natural
grooves to those who are
willing to stop, walk up the backs
of crevasses and ravines, nature’s
cherry, tall mountains yielding
peace in the mind of the sound.

We come out fighting—sperm to
egg, out Mom at whatever pace
gets results.

We have to develop sixth senses,
cosmic attachments to energy
there when we ask.  I asked
for poetry, travelling the song
that is Mexico.

I don’t like music anymore,
because it gets in the way of
God’s voice.

Shhh.

Who’s connecting today?  Where
is the medicine man, the prophet
designated to go up the hill and
ask for God’s blessing.

A priest denying himself sex?

Folks who meditate in buildings?

Who knows what the earth wants,
can report the facts to others,
pick up an instrument to play again
only when we’re on the same
page, one pulse attempting to please
the LORD, like the Jews in the desert.

Burn the incense, retreat back to
the dirt and calm—

God forgive our running around
with cotton in our ears, so eager
and ready to spout what others
say—

We “Edged Out God” the acronym
for ego used today.

Shhh.

Give us peace, God, and with it
your voice to teach us the way!

We Can Rise

14 Friday Dec 2018

Posted by Bill Watkins in God, Health, Men's Health, Poem, Poems, Poesia, Poetic Blog, Poetry, Spiritual

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

God, Health, Intact, Joy, Love, Men's Health, Peace, Rights, Spiritual

The seed wars to become a flower.
Democracy lies—calls people power.

Songs rhyme, the words nothing compared
to truth itself.  You pause, pray,

Give strength clean away, turn it over
We can rise.  With a god of your own
understanding, we can rise, the mystic
reason for the four seasons calling
in the night, dreams the funeral of
ignorance, chopping off parts of a penis

while our infants cry; listening to the
devil, the easy way, “What did the white
coat say?”

***

Great native spirit, aboriginal ESP, a poem
scribbled into sand by Vikings or Celtic
sages, Romeo and Juliet giving English
reasons like seeds to sprout and spread
like a wildfire of color across a northern
California coastal hill.

“God” is the name itself for some, the
goal heaven, and for it we rise.

We can overcome the worst, from ashes
bloom again, seven deadly sins trying to
burrow into holes made before we make
first decisions.

The cliff upon which we walk is forged
to challenge, the echoes of forefathers
and foreskins causing blood to pour out
in lines, the prayer a call of the realistic,

the humble are true when they admit they
cannot without divine help reach the
golden crest that is Peace of Mind.

We can rise.

But we must first admit we fell, ring the
bell that we’ve been to hell.

God, forgive us, let’s mobilize with every
breath to make amends for friends like
wind forgotten with circumcised sips
of flammable liquid passed down from
generation to generation,

Friends in armor, friends who gave
us warmth and farming techniques,
helped us survive winters before
we cast them out at gunpoint, claimed
to found a nation already here.

I’m a white man living on stolen land,
littered concrete and asphalt, helicopters
screaming war while anyone standing
high enough for peace is shot down from
Gandhi to Jack to Martin to Bobby to Oscar
to John of the Beatles, the evil wind
soaring never changed.

We can rise, the minority report flourishing
at times, enough to give us hope
like a birdie between double bogies,

We can rise.

With an ounce of truth told into the
hurricane of lies, we can turn the evil
ship around, apologize.

Admit we raped, pillaged and stole,
see the humanity we are—naked
and part of the earth.

Don’t ever snip earth worn naturally
by children, mutilate a baby against
God’s will.

The baby’s cry is God’s protest; stop
cutting, start listening.  Get out of your
car, join me on the walk to Heaven.

Back to Church

26 Wednesday Sep 2018

Posted by Bill Watkins in Church, God, Poems, Poetic Blog, Poetry, Religion, Truth

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Church, God, Joy, Love, Peace, Poetry, Truth

Church2

by Bill Watkins 9/26/2018

***

I was confirmed Catholic in a haze of “getting it done,” not quite hungover but certainly between hangovers.

My first memory of church was Dad’s legs, moving really fast.  “Come on, kids! We’re late!” and he sped-walked up the boulevard to church.  We followed, the rest of life pretty cool with lots of well-timed presents and stuff around to keep us entertained.

My first love went un-reported, as Proverbs 5:18 and Malachi’s 2:14’s Wife of your Youth was not much preached or cared for in our neck of the woods.  Alcohol was everywhere, something I now see as a false god, along with college and anything else that distracts us from the straight, narrow path to Heaven.

I had no relationship with God or any kind of Higher Power until I went to an alcohol and drug rehabilitation center, where my sister had checked herself in in January of 1995.  On February 7th of that year, in a small therapy group on the campus of the Betty Ford Center in Palm Desert, California:

I had a spiritual awakening.

It involved telling the truth.  A black social worker named Lee Harris asked me in that group if I had a girlfriend, after asking me why I was “excited” to be there.  Between those questions, he asked how my relationship was with my dad.  “Loving? Affectionate?”  I said “We hi-five and watch sports.”

So Lee asked if I had a girlfriend, and I looked left and right, saw a safe room—and admitted the truth to all there that I had Never had a girlfriend.  My big secret.  I had no intimacy in my life, no close friends.  I played sports.  I drank alcohol.  And I pretended to believe in God at church, something impossible to accomplish without telling the truth.

February 7th, 1995

The scales lifted, the eyes clear.

Honesty, finally the truth at
twenty-two given with a tear.

“I’ve never had a girlfriend”
coaxed when the moment was right,
I let down my guards to finally
see the light.

You can’t be helped ‘til you ask
for it.  You can’t ask ‘til safe,
I looked left and right before I
truth supplied and saw that it was all
right—I came out!!!

I was unhappy, even though I had
friends after friends coming to my
bar-b-que party.

I was empty even though the trophies
and plaques on walls increased
and filled—attempted to fill, this would
have to be enough!

Spiritual Awakening—LORD, have me!
Done hiding it was safe to bloom,
and now, no more garden parties,

I separate the happy with the gloom
and see the world in poems—

I did not ask for permission and leave
another world behind: self-doubt, beer,
hollering around death, we put up
our hands at fear.

Trapped no more at Betty Ford
the 7th of February a.d. ‘95
ready to turn the boat around…

Trapped no more you want more
and more so ditch tomorrow for today.

They criticize you and analyze you
as you smile and accept today

***

From Betty Ford, I went into the Al-Anon program, for family members and friends of problem drinkers.  Betty Ford had prescribed two meetings a week to all Family Program attendees like myself, but I’ll report here that I started out going about once every other week.

I limped into the meetings, learned about my perfectionism and people-pleasing, started to believe in a Higher Power—which at first was the unconditional love of my Al-Anon groups.

Later, my definition would expand, come back to the Bible, the Tao Te Ching, the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, and even the Native American Great Spirit.

My last conscious drink of alcohol was on March 6th, 2002. I now celebrate sixteen years of sobriety and growing health, after I almost died in two drug overdoses, 1999 and 2000. My drinking started on Dad’s lap at five—his last sip of bourbon on his lap.  It was then that I let the Devil into my life.

I was blacking out with friends on the substance by age thirteen.  Graduated Polytechnic School in Pasadena, California a full-blown alcoholic at age seventeen in 1990.  I did well in the classroom and sports field, headed to the false god college without God, graduated, then found my way to Betty Ford, chronicled above…

***

Recently, I came back to the Church.  My father passed away in December of last year; he used to attend mass every day, and I saw a vision of starting to go, to get out of the house, get started early and be of more service to other people and God.  I’m glad I have decided to do this, despite the many problems I see in the Church.

For instance, where did YHWH go in the New Testament?  LORD, all capitals?  Weird, we go down to “Lord” in the New Testament, and everybody nods along, as if nothing strange is afoot.  Many Christian churches call Jesus God, but I studied the Old Testament, saw an amazingly deep and convincing description of YHWH that would never accede to being watered down into anything else.

I love Jesus.  A best friend with words from God to be sure!  He teaches us to be as little children, truthful, and Loving!

A path to heaven is carved by the Word, and I love to study it and try to do what Jesus taught, along with obeying the ten commandments God gave to Moses for the Jews to follow.  So, therefore, I consider myself a Judeo-Christian, and think all true Christians are that, including Catholics.

You can’t master the New Testament without obeying the teachings of the Jewish Torah. But then there’s that lingering continuity error, regarding “LORD” being reduced to “Lord.”  By who?  Jesus?  His disciples?  The Greeks who wrote the gospels down on paper?

YHWH is the real deal, as a Native American would say about the Great Spirit, both reflecting true power and the Great Mystery.

YHWH

We speak of Jesus, forgetting the Father.
There was the Hebrew text, the Torah,
what Christians call the Old Testament.
In it there was a SACRED Name, no vowels,
all capitals, that WAS NOT TO BE UTTERED
OR USED IN ANY WAY IN VAIN.

Not casually dropped in a sentence,
but used in worship for specific prayers
and purpose.

YHWH.  Do not use it in vain.

In English, someone decided to write
this sacred name with a vowel, we must
forgive them: “LORD.” All capitals, though,
do not forget that, those that interchange
Jesus with God, “LORD” with Lord, the small
case “New Testament” version.

The Father is the Father, the son is the son.
Jesus came with God’s word not pointing at
himself, but Up, at his Dad.

“Our Father, who art in heaven,”
prayed and taught us to pray, did
Jesus.  Not “Our Jesus…”

YHWH.  Do not use it in vain.

Power, lightning ending your life
in an instant.  Giving, creating, the Creator
of All.
Do not forget the order… Do not forget
the Father.  Respect the Power.

***

The Great Spirit

***

Once upon a wordless time,
the beat and pulse of the universe
created a ball of fire that became
our earth.

People walked on it, when it was
less hot, battled big beasts for
control, then learned to get along
in different areas in different ways.

There were things all people had in
common; others so different that it
led to more battles and fighting,

and life?

It’s always a bit of a fight for peace,
for the good feelings that arise when
we stay quiet and let bad times
roll into good like thunder from
lightning, rainbows from the rain,
the waterfall cascading down as
a poem from the Great Spirit above.

The Great Spirit is the Native American
concept for God, higher power, a
supreme creator and director of all
things and beings.

Shhh.

Be quiet a while.

Listen, and if in a bad energy, find a good
one when you can.

Take a walk, and let your legs
guide you to the Peace that you need
to spark an idea.

Recall that it was a great spark that created
the earth, all of us humans starting
as the love between man and woman,
the universe the same.

“Something there is that doesn’t
love a wall,” said Robert Frost.

Something wants the wall to break,
if for no other reason to get humans
off the couch to with the Great Spirit
up and Co-Create.

Wait.

Do not always do your first thought’s
dream.  Wait, sometimes, for a second,
even a third before you decide with your
highest form of prayer or thinking.

Move your arms or dance as a sign
to the Earth and sky, and call things you
see names that make you feel a connection
to them.

I am a former Englishman, living in
America.

My native name is Naked Horse, as
in a wild horse without a saddle—
running free and guided only by love
and Truth.

If you, too, live here, maybe you want
to look out for a native spirit name to
call yourself.

Whatever you want, you may ask
for it.

The answer will come in your dreams,
if not while you are awake, so

listen well, and smile as you play
the game.

***

I could write another piece called “The Confession of a Polytheist,” my upbringing all over the place, never centering on God.  “School, Sports, College, Girls, There, Here, no there!”  Anywhere but humble at the feet of one, unifying power.

The best sermon I ever heard our pastor give was about putting God in the center of your life.  There are good elements to the Roman Catholic Church, it does get me out of the house, socializing and mixing with people.  The singing and music can be pleasing—not just to us, but to God, as David showed us…

Church is a thing, like school, like any other place, a passion, a hobby or interest.  If one wants to be spiritual and do the will of God, the work is private, the prayer best done between you and God.  Jesus warned against public prayer, and promoted private moments between you and God—public prayer being rewarded with a slap on the back, private prayer rewarded by God Him or Herself in private.

Humility—knowing our place—will bring us all to oneness and Peace.  The rough places will be made smooth, evolution works, but no good thing thrives without honesty.  I plan to continue attending mass, trying to be of service where the Gospel is spoken, songs sung to please the LORD.  I wrote this piece to tell the truth and inspire truth, knowing how powerless I am over so many things.  Admitting that, we come to believe in a Power greater than us, see the glory in turning our will and lives over to that power.

May no person, place or thing get in the way of that Power, of our dedication to trying to know God’s will and carry it out.  No doctor’s diagnosis, college, or anything not clearly God.  Beware false gods; they are everywhere, tempting anyone not rooted and committed to the One.

Only God is Good

17 Monday Sep 2018

Posted by Bill Watkins in Education, God, Poem, Poems, Poesia, Poetic Blog, Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

God, Gospel, Jesus, Joy, Love, Peace, Religion

We deify ourselves, to our
own detriment.  We throw the
ship off balance, forget our
place, and suddenly we imagine
we did this and created it all.

So we register, buy a car, sign
on with a “doctor” and do what
everybody else seems to be doing.

The goal to live a long time, right?

Only God is good, taught a rebellious
rabbi from Nazareth, and for those
who do not believe in God?  Find
a dictionary, or look at Google.com,
some place online, type in the letters,
G-o-d, and see the concept defined.

God exists.

***

Next, break away from all
convention, and all things you do
and have done because other
people said it was good.

Ads on TV splashing a flammable
liquid around in fancy glasses
and bars, telling you it’s great
to drink!

That man or woman in a white
coat telling you you have a grave
disease that requires much care,
stated with assurance and high
education, Latin terms and bull.

When was your last hike in nature?
When did you last discard your
wardrobe, walk naked in the
sun, feet on earth, taking in
the Great Spirit, a song in birds
sung, the click click of a squirrel
being chased by another squirrel,
the deer waiting for quiet to speak,
soft tracks by the creek? Jump in
it’s wet, cleansing and a reminder

we created nothing.

Only God is good, look it up—
I didn’t say it first, say it now,
not last, aware I prayed to God
for poetry and got it from my dreams,
prayed for a sense of humor,
and got it right away in a car burning
earth as it rained sunshine, cooler
than it seems.

Turn Around

27 Monday Aug 2018

Posted by Bill Watkins in Cosmic, Creation, God, Poem, Poems, Poesia, Poetic Blog, Poetry, Universe

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Awakening, Big Yang, Creation, God, Joy, Love, Peace, Recovery, Truth, Universe, Woke

Before time began, we were ordered
but not yet delivered—the point of
sale hot and hairy with the friction
of moving bodies through space.

One “day at a time” was created by
faraway forces, all in perfect harmony
with a divine plan—the mystery impossible
to penetrate, the more pondered,

the more lost in that… space…

Truth comes to us late in life, sometimes
after horrible events, always when
we least expect

After the conditioner wears out,
blood instead of shampoo on the
bathroom floor, vomited mess.

We were sure war was good and manly.
We were sure men should be strong.
We were sure sports were good to play.
We were so sure college was important.

July 4th exploded in our face.

We saw the light, when we read a
real deed to the land to find it more
native than white—to have stolen
property a curse on everything in
civilization we do.

Perhaps that is why we, not the
native people, so often curse, cuss
and spite our walk on concrete.

***

Turn around.  Look back, when it’s
safe, tell the truth; start with strangers
if you must, and swim toward the next
real thing, peace of mind the chime on
fourteen bells of alarm so alarming
you’d rather silence it than tend to the
fire burning all around you.

Burning earth, driving cars, helicopters
playing more war in my “city” stolen
because our British forefathers thought
it the only way to live.

A bible?  A bound set of papers with ink
on them?

Could it ever compare to the waterfall?
The river?  The mountains, the valleys
of gold in morning’s light, saunas for the
sun if the desert catches it just right,
lick it up bright—

I call this life crazy, but I’ll ‘til the wheels
come off live it, it’s my right.

To swing around the sun a hundred times
a goal of sum;

Dogs and cats more honest in fifteen,
some birds to sixty, disease a myth of
the rich, while the poor continue as
the prophet said, blessed with the meek

The sorrowful now under feet with a key
to heaven easily won, take a peak.

Thunder to roll, God by another name as sweet,
this is or is not a game played by at least
some far off unfathomable beings.

Maybe green, blue, fat or small, maybe
E.T.

The native chiefs knew, but many of
us just wanted to thump our book;

both point to the Great Mystery.

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