Citrine rain

Auroa Mine San Luis Potosi Mexico      Auroa Mine San Luis Potosi Mexico. Bijoux-et-mineraux.tumblr.com

So Hum – wanting rain

So Ham took time to move among the broad branches of his imaginary rain tree. In time his gait changed. It was still a hesitant rock – back and forth, a slow rhumba; but when his front foot lifted, and the back foot landed, they did so with an added permanence of ‘I want’, which was followed by, ‘I want more’.

So Hum partook in pleasurable things for a good while; in fact, beyond the boundaries of time, but then a citrine bejewelled rain was carried in. It was one of those timeless soft rains that carried a promise of consolidated growth, and yet So Hum could swear that this time it was edged with foreboding.

His wobbly bobbly eyes had lost most of their malignant fear during the good times, but now they were cataracting over with avarice and a mistrust of perhaps not getting enough of everything that he really wanted.

He foolishly interpreted its offer of quiet restraint and fortitude as a spartan choice, and rejected it because he saw it as a punishing onslaught against his greedy senses. This vagary would cost him much emotional pain.

In So Hum’s small delusional mind, if you could call it a mind, the citrine rain came in a cutting slant of slivers of bright yellow crystals that stung his defenceless protruding eyes, whipped his hunched back, and brought him to his first tears of confused disappointment.

Allan Taylor. author, Luanshya musings

Observing

Thinking humanity 2

It is he: the Observer

Without him, I would be unable to measure my true worth.

His omnipotence is the catalytic spark that births the creative force that I am.

He is the aethereal power whose presence coalesces my spirit into the physical being that is me.

 

It is I: the Observed

I am not a singular linear self-contained happening. I am like a mote of dust in a swirling desert sandstorm, a minuscule reflection of a multi-faceted field of existence and creative expression.

I am a microcosm that unwittingly mirrors the vastness of the universal whole as my own small reality.

As small as I am, I am an integral part of an intense, non-localised field of creativity that is here, there and everywhere, all of the time.

When my small seeing eye observes the patterns of this quantum sandstorm of which I am part, I localise into my ‘time and place’ frame. The dust settles and my life takes form, but I am still of the non-stuff of a creative universe.

That is when my Soul energy will birth my kind: be it a rebirth of my own being or a new birth of a child, or an act of loving kindness unconditionally given.

Allan Taylor, author Luanshya musings

 

Medicinal brooms sweep clean…

…in Africa and off the beaten track, away from the influences of civilisation and deep in the forest, clearings are meticulously swept by the women folk bent double and holding handleless brooms often made of vlei grasses, but sometimes of medicinal herbs to repel evil spirits from the dark side. Every morning the area around the huts and up to the forest edge, is swept to dusty smooth perfection. A strange footprint, or worse, the side-winding slurry of a snake in the sand, could be a harbinger of evil, whose presence needed to be exposed as a satan nyoka – a devil snake announcing no good.

Allan Taylor, author, Luanshya musings

Sergio Pesalano

                        Sergio Pesalano