myth and magical thinking

‘Star light, star bright

first star I see tonight

I wish I may, I wish I might

have this wish I wish tonight’

Leaning her back against the block wall in the shade of an awning in the front of an old abandoned laundromat, her eyes appeared dull and listless. Her child suckled a sagging breast, crying and hungry, the sucking bringing a measure of comfort. She couldn’t produce enough milk to feed her son while she herself was dying, malnourished from hunger. The mother rocked robotically back and forth softly singing a lullaby to her son helping him fall into a fitful sleep. Others were there as they were cast about, the city adopting new regulations regarding these interlopers. It wasn’t good for their image. Out of sight, out of mind the oft stated and newly resurrected catchphrase appropriate to their agenda. Soup kitchens were being outlawed and shelters abandoned. Now you are fined if you are caught feeding the homeless.

It wouldn’t be long now before mother and child would be scooped up off the sidewalk and dumped with other refuge into the waste bin of life and forgotten. Almost comatose and too weak to beg she ate a few leftovers that were thrown to her from a table of scraps that we would feed to a dog. She would masticate the scraps and then give them to her hungry baby relishing in the taste but not the swallowing. With her last breath she would care for her child. Her life was almost over, shortened by choice and circumstance, too young to die, too old and used up to live.

As a child she was shielded by her mother from the wrath of her father. Drunk and blaming the world for his problems he went from job to job before being jobless again. And then Momma got sick. There was no saving her. Lying beside her as she was dying at home with Hospice, her mother did her best to talk to her about life and what laid ahead. This was a most precious and intimate time for mother and daughter. They talked about anything and everything, changes coming in her body and what to expect. Dad was more present now and cried apologetically kneeling by Mom and asking forgiveness. She softly caressed his hair and asked him to ‘please take care of our daughter’. ‘Tell me how can I live without you’ he sobbed.

Then early one fine spring morning she closed her eyes, took her last breath, and submitted to death, her gateway to paradise and a better life. She left a long love letter to her daughter, a cherished legacy found with her in the scant possessions she called her own . At first dad was close but soon he was drinking hard trying to drown his sorrow. Six weeks, only six weeks to the day that mommy died daddy killed himself in a car wreck. I was eleven. Life changed in an instant. I had no control, I had no say. My voice a whisper as grief enveloped me. I was taken in by my Aunt Nan and Uncle Irv. Good folks but naive. At first everything was fine with my older boy cousins Peter and Paul, but by my middle teens I would have to fight off their leud sexual advances and their attempts to abuse me. There was no reason to talk to Nan and Irv as they believed their boys were somehow saintly and incapable of licentious behavior. Feigning shock and surprise at such an accusation the boys responded with a look of distraught, ‘she’s family, like a sister to us. We would never do something like that’. Then they turned and faced me with a smile of devilish delight with mischief on their minds. Aunt and Uncle even blamed me becoming angry and making my life miserable. At night I locked my door with a chair lodged under the handle to prevent forced entry. I armed myself with a sharp paring knife. I was not about to let them take me without a fight. Soon I would be long gone. Then one night at the age of sixteen I snuck out and left rendezvousing with a friend, never to return again. They never even reported me missing.

We had big plans. Head for the coast and live on the beach in the halo of surf and sun having so much fun. But we suffered from the worst poverty…hunger. It makes people do unimaginable things. I sold myself for a meal, and Jack, my partner was often busted for shoplifting and petty theft careful to keep the value under the limit prosecuted by our inglorious injustice system. So it was back on the street to do it again. And then Jack died, an over dose on drugs. The kind? what does it matter. I was with child and he survived the birth his mother a crack head with STD’s. After two days in the clinic we were out the door and on the street doing our best to survive.

Then I was apprehended at Walgreens with formula for my baby hidden in his blanket. The police came and once at the station forcibly separated me from my child as I screamed ‘Oh God, don’t take my baby! Don’t do this! Not my baby! I beg you! Please’ I pleaded with tears, ‘Don’t take my son from me’.

I fought them with all my might before I was knocked to the floor hysterical and weeping. I could hear his cries echoing down the hall as they took him away. Then they dragged me kicking and screaming before dumping me unceremoniously on the floor behind bars in a dark dank cell, the cold hard floor. I laid there in silence unmoving before two of the lockups came and helped me into a bed. Darkness enshrouded me and I felt my life force ebbing away. It was a long sleepless night in the bowels of Hell. And somewhere out of the emptiness and dark shadows of my soul the soothing warmth of a light came. And I remembered; though I make my bed in Hell, there art thou with me. And I was comforted.

Early the next morning I sobbed as I was reunited with my child. A kindly female black officer brought him to me smiling. ‘We cleaned and fed him’, she said. ‘He spent a purdy good nite. Now he’s a restin’. Handing him to my outstretched arms she said, ‘Honey, you continue to do what youse do best. I can tell you luv that child, and you is a good Momma’. ‘He’s all that I have left to live for’, I said. ‘I cannot bear the thought of loosing him’. As she turned and walked away, the officer who released me looked both ways before handing me four twenties. ‘Get some food for you and that babe. And take this card. It will get you a free breakfast just down the street. I’m thinking you could use that this mornin’. I am so sorry but the system has failed once again’. With tears of gratefulness I thanked him over and over again before it was back on the street just my baby and me.

Every ten seconds a child dies of starvation and related diseases, thousands every day. One billion have inadequate shelter and millions in America sleep on the sidewalk, one hundred million homeless worldwide. I see their faces staring back at me with big sad eyes, protruding bellies, and thin skin stretched tight over a skeletal frame. One in five children go to bed hungry in America the land of plenty, but only if you cross the border, now the recipient of carte blanch benefits from the government for every possible want and need, America’s own citizens suffering every deprivation while those who govern deceive and walk a fine line, their pretentious magnanimous gestures available only to those furthering their goal of the depopulation of America’s white racial stream.

So we feed our children MacDonalds quarter pounders with over 1300 different strands of DNA, deadly empty calories void of nutrition. And, do you magically think that your donations(money) makes food instantly appear as if you planted currency in the ground like a seed of faith, so the preacher say, and walla it’s a miracle…meals on wheels for life! No! You play the game of caring, often a high percent of your donation going to pay for ‘operating expenses’, appeasing your conscious, while you pander to politics on the other hand as they poison your planet and everything on it.

With multiple food production facilities now only smoke and charred ruins, recurrent recalls, often bogus, totaling tens of thousands of pounds of food, farmers are left facing shortages of water and raw materials, demands for net zero emissions, and money withheld for operating expenses. And I ask, ‘is there any natural occurring weather anymore’? While blue skies now turn waxen and gray as columns of chemtrails paint the sky and geoengineering creates the weather, millions of acres of American farm land has been bought by the Chinese and eugenist Bill Gates. Massive food shortages await. The ‘Culling Time’ has arrived.

‘Control the food, control the people. Control the energy, control the continents. Control the money, control the world’. One of the greatest threats to our planet is the belief that someone else will save it and we won’t have to change. America what have you become? Once the bread basket of the world we now import billions of dollars of food to satiate our lavish appetites while wasting a full one third of it. Wasting is not a victimless crime. Now we grow food for fuel and feed our dogs better than our children.

At the height of the planned covid scamdemic billionaires increased their wealth exponentially, the richest at a rate of thousands every second and millions a day, while the income of 99% of humanity fell and over 160 million more people were forced into poverty. And in this world of wealth nine million will die every year from hunger. Don’t fool yourself, and you are the easiest person to fool. ’The Council’, your government and the global gestapo don’t give a rat’s ass if you live or die. You are merely a useful idiot or useful innocent and then a expendable ‘carbon unit’ when not. Truth is only whatever serves the Dept. of ‘Just-Us’ interests.

‘Twinkle, twinkle little star

how I wonder what you are

up above the sky so high

like a diamond in the sky’

I searched the back streets. The slow idle of the engine barely audible as the sun said goodbye, dipping low in the sky. The weather was still, stagnant, and oppressive. I was on a mission. There were souls in the balance and little ones suffered. Their crime? Drawing breath in a cruel world that didn’t want them. Pulling up to the curb, a silver haired older man quietly walked up to this tragic tender scene of a mother and child. Seemingly unaware of his presence he heard her softly speak to her babe. ‘I am rhyme, I am rhythm, children dance to my name. Upon clouds they do fly. With wings they soar above the mountains into endless sky. Soon, very soon we will soar my son, our journey on earth is almost done’.

‘She calls out to the man in the street

sir, can you help me?

Its cold and I have no where to sleep

is there somewhere you can tell me?

he walks on, doesn’t look back

starts to whistle as he crosses the street

seems embarrassed to be there

Oh, think twice, cause it’s another day for you and me in paradise

she calls out to the man in the street

he can see she’s been cryin’

she’s got blisters on the souls of her feet

she can’t walk but she’s trying

Oh, think twice, cause it’s another day for you and me in paradise

Oh Lord, is there nothing more anyone can do?

Oh Lord, there must be something you can say

you can tell from the lines on her face

you can see that she’s been there

probably been moved on from every place

‘cause she didn’t fit in there

Oh, think twice, it’s just another day for me and you in paradise

just think about it, think about it’

just you, you and me in paradise

thanx, Phil

I lifted mother and child, together they were a feather. Placing them in the backseat of my truck I went back to gather her scant few possessions. For you see……..I was once the man in the street.

Driving away I placed a phone call. ‘I have found her, mother and child. Alert the others and bring all things necessary. I will be there directly’. Arriving at the house I pulled into the garage as the overhead closed and a door to the garage from the house opened. Immediately hands lifted her and her child out of the truck and into the house. A place had been prepared. She was gently stripped of her filthy vermin infested clothes and placed in a warm soothing bath and washed to remove the smell and stain that lingered upon her body. The man-child as well was unclothed and washed, always in close proximity to his mother. Then she and her son were dressed and fed, a nourishing cup of broth for the mother. She struggled to swallow most of the liquid flowing out of her mouth and down her chin. IV’S where started and life saving measures began. And while she slept her mother came to comfort her. ‘oh momma, I miss you so. Can Caiden and I come and be with you’? ‘Soon my daughter, soon. But first there are other souls that need your help’.

Mother and child were monitored 24/7, some one always by their side. The babe was given appropriate amounts of nourishing organic formula and in short order began to eat as if it were the first time. And my, he could eat!

I stayed with her at night holding her hand and praying. Though never fully conscious I watched her reach out for her baby. She tried to speak to the child, her murmurings fading into the night. Then on the seventh day her eyes popped open and she immediately reached for her infant son. Seeing he was sleeping and obviously nurtured and fed she turned to her smiling care giver. ‘Who are you and where am I’? she asked for starters. Being notified we all came in, all four of us, and we sat and explained the events that precipitated her coming here. As well we briefed her about her care. Slowly she began to recover and enjoyed eating delicious nutritious meals. They both gained stamina and strength while gradually adding a little weight and healing from the inside out. The healing modalities we applied not known or practiced by modern medicine.

I so enjoyed my visits with her getting to hold the child. Her name was Jodie and his was Caiden,(son of Cadian or ’battle’ teaching the baby to be strong, fiercely standing up for what he believed in and who he was).

Except for our intervention, Jodie would have died at 21 years old, her child Caiden at only six months of age with her. If she had preceded him, his little heart would have broken. No lullaby, no soothing sound, and not a drop of milk. With tears flowing and her bottom lip and chin quivering Jodie expressed her gratitude to Heaven above and to all of us. We all cried and hugged. They remained in the house and together they became a force ministering to those who like themselves were once without hope. And while they were rescued from death’s door, many were not.

Somewhere on the Strip in Gaza bombs exploded. There was screaming and gunfire. Now silence, as choking dust filled the air. And somehow amidst the piles of bricks and rubble a baby cried. There was the stench of death. Where are you my Mother? Please hold me, I am so afraid. Speak softly words I remember. Touching you, your body buried it’s only your face I see, your vacant eyes staring back at me. A chill courses through my body. My little hands tremble. So alone. I look to the sky. Fire, smoke, and ashes. It all falls down. Everything in ruin, chaos all around. Where are you my father? Surround me with your strong arms and hold me tight. Share words of comfort. Take me to a better place away from the cruelty of man. No one answers. Then everything goes black, and darkness consumes all sound. Her little voice is heard no more. There is only the resonance of war. And, as you look upon her lifeless form her eyes ask……..

When you plan your wars….did you ever think of me?

Weep for me oh ye heavens, tears distilled like dew. I lift my little arms to greet you. I know you will do me no harm.

So it is that we tell ourselves stories in order to cope with life’s realities. It’s the day to day living that wears us out. Myth is our way of making sense in a senseless world. The trouble we have is separating the delusion from the truth, as we create the sort of myths we want to believe about ourselves. Magical thinking is a form of thought in which wishes and desires shape the reality we perceive. Most people think magically most of the time. We fantasize about our own importance, wealth, and a better job, a different spouse, and a God that winks, pandering to our indulgences and folly, a sugar daddy in the sky. There is the myth of education, a difference between the players in our two party political system, a government that cares, and police who protect. Just ask your doctor the voice says. Your banker and lawyer will steal from you, but it is your doctor that has the power to not only steal, he can also kill. I could go on……

When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. But when I became a man I was expected to put away childish things. Why then I ask do we still live, believe, and think as a child?

Mommy and daddy tell me it’s not true. When I grow up, will I be just…. like…..you?

Mystery is more than half the beauty in life. Somewhere over the rainbow legends, myths, hero’s and villains abide, haunting beauty, Prince Valiant , and pretty maids all in a row. Continue to seek my friend, for in seeking you will find. The answer you seek to your questions lies in the asking. For if you ask you will receive.

We shall find peace. We will hear angels. And, we will see the sky sparkling with diamonds.