Sol's Random Stories

"Be still. And know that I am God." This portion of the Psalm 46:10, does it also describe a truth about the nature of human understanding, how we may experience that some Higher Mind exists, how we may feel it for ourselves? Silence. Stillness. Could it be that God begins where thoughts, words end? Volume down the inner noise, filter out every other passing thought, become quiet, a heartbeat slowing on its own.  All may be known when "me" is gone. Exhale, inhale, behold the underground stream, anywhere God is found, there too we must be, inseperable for eternity. Finally, there's little else we may do: Psalm 56:3, "When I am afraid, I put my trust in you."

Imagine this plate full of paint, colors to blend and create, a pallet full of discovery, imagine this represents one person's disparate rainbow of traits, myriad attributes, history, and personality, all uniquely complex. Maybe a wondrous miracle we agree or cooperate on anything, if not for three primary colors- red, blue, yellow. Survival, security, social contact.

You don't question faith. Not unless you like to risk doom. You don't doubt where you find strength, not if you're wise. Naomi was both faithful and wise. Three weeks now. Three. This last week, long, day by day. No word from anyone. The local authorities have been useless. Her fiancee, Kushal, was so exuberant before leaving to his new ministerial position in Kashmir district, a hundred miles away. But he never arrived at his new job, and no one has heard from him. Except for Naomi's youngest brother, Jamaal. A week ago, he saw Kushal board a train in a nearby town. His sister's fiancee was not alone. The young lad couldn't break his sister's heart, nor could he lie. Finally, he tells Naomi, but she isn't surprised at all. Faithful, wise, yes, but after the very first day, no ones fool.

Depression is a persuasive condition. A physical ghost, an illusion that hurts. Some days, the only way out is up. One step, hold on tight, next step. Breath. Repeat. Progress only measured by small gains. You can wait for years of talk analysis and dubious insight. Or, hope for vibrating crystals to work, to re-align your disjointed past. But the older you become, 'why' matters less. Better to just change behavior, assign blame later, never is best.

"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God." Matthew 5:8 Could the formless nature of God be in view all the while, hiding in plain sight? Yet, if fully revealed, would we be paralized, overwhelmed, frozen in awe so that we couldn't survive? So, our Creator may dwell in subtler tones, like in the pastel fields of spring, or in giant sequoia alive a thousand years, or in the sky-arcing ambience of a soaring hawk, or a sole spider purposefully ascending a shaded wall, these scriptures of the physical world, all around us witness perfection's evidence, all things seen anew, as when I glimpse God's presence in you.

Yeah, it's a choice, hasn't felt like it. Yet, you know in your heart it's true: the city has stolen your spirit. Okay, you're still breathing, not that kind of theft- but the real deal. Living better. Healthy. Another relative term, but you know when you're not, sitting in dead traffic like a beaten mule, mindless, obedient, accepting abuse like it's normal to be whipped. You're simply city-screwed, compliant to a lesser quality of existing, all the corrosive factors part of your urban world. Soul locked in the angst lane, rushing to some future last day, expect even your hearse gets trapped by the metro train. But anyway, already gone, you won't mind the humorous delay. 😎

What could an elephant know about fairness? It's a human construct, an idea that balance operates on justice. There is no such rule or law in physics. An elephant only knows its life, and Sintha's six years had been hard. Cursed with a circus, from birth her only home, more like hell with clowns, one of the last to tour thru rapidly changing Punjab province. The typical routines of cruelty she had learned to tolerate came to a sharp and sudden point of horror one fateful morning, when a new trainer was assigned to Sintha. After a long hour of witless mishandling, whipping, and struggle, Sintha panicked and slammed the unqualified trainer to the ground, badly breaking his arm. Yes, the whip arm. For now, she's transferred to an animal compound out of town. It's horrid, horribly unfair, but Sintha is relieved, while her ultimate fate remains unknown.

Rhonda Nichols never had much luck with living things, like goldfish, plants, or guys. So, one evening at the mailboxes, when the tall neighbor four floors down took a quick interest, she didn't resist. But, she also didn't encourage. Slight indifference, a good defense, Rhonda had learned. Very nearly married, twice, she knew too well words weren't contracts, and contracts were no guarantees. Single and fifty-one, the math begins to sum differently, totals not important. Expect less, hurt less, if things go south, quick as they may. Their good neighbor policy lasted two months, Vegas weekends, then a Caribbean cruise. Rhonda had a blast, didn't care his calls stopped, so did hers. All good, they're always friendly in the lobby. Her new plant, his first gift, still doing well.

No one saw this coming. 30 year-old accountant, James Frank Milton always knew he'd surprise folks some day, but until last year, he didn't know how. The annual Regional Survivalist Competition was something James always seemed to know about, with two uncles, an older brother, and many cousins competing over the years. Last year he finally entered, his first ever contest. James up and won it, strong, straight out, going away. Actually, that's what he literally did. After the televised prize ceremony, James simply vanished into the forests. Some said he was running from something. Others say no, more like running to somethng, whatever he couldn't find in his life from before. Today, he's seen only rarely in the fields, or getting water at the streams, seen only when he chooses. Otherwise, he's as invisible as silence, yet always smiling, keeping a far distance. His extended survivaling has created a firestorm of controversy, each with their theory as ...

(It's a long way down. Dont think he's coming back. Why? Why would he do it? Didn't look upset. He had his mask on.)

(S'all good, they can both go to hell. Don't need to live there anymore, they're always on my ass about something anyway, time to split, dump this stupid place, doesn't matter where, it wont he here. They'll see.)

(If I stare into this store window, no one will know that I am homeless. I don't look too bad, yet. Stand here awhile until I'm warmer. Anyway, nowhere to go, I'll be up until morning, somewhere. Too risky to sleep at night. I know where I can eat tomorrow, maybe shower. Can't think about food now. Tomorrow, I'll find help. Should not have left the way I did, no money, no phone, but it is what it is. Have to stay awake. Don't trust shelters. He could find me there.)

Then again, there are those dreams that are lost in the spray of daylight breaking, fog filling too quickly, last wisps of scenes, fragments already soft-focused into forgotten waves, repeating as they do. Maybe dreams aren't lost, merely recycled.

Sometimes there are second chances in this life. Good fortune amidst chaos. That's Freddy's story, his family knows. The fires back in the spring came fast. First crazy winds, then wildfire across most of the valley ridges in one night. Dry air fueling a swift monster, spot flare-ups like blazing whack-a-mole, the brave firefighters couldn't keep up. The fires defied all strategies and resources. Freddy's family evacuated in less than thirty minutes, and as luck would have it, their ranch house and acreage were all spared. But the family's dog was officially missing. With everyone distracted, Freddy had panicked and ran off. But the family had to leave fast, heartbroken, but no sane choice to have anyone remain. They would have to pray for Freddy until they could return. Three long days later, the lucky boy was found in a cave a mile away, singed and shivering from fright. Prayers answered against all odds. Freddy's family gave thanks for their great...

Windows, screens of fear, everywhere. Bad News rectangles to reckon with. And, there's more evidence the system is cracked, corroding right under us. You have to prioritize your foreboding, too dangerous now, looking outside. They'll tell us when to stop fearing. Won't they?

If only we had kept count from the beginning, were that even possible, a tally of all the good fortune, the dodged disasters, the close calls, the very near horrible days that didn't go that way by a coin-flip, a blip on the screen, a silent blessing times ten thousand, if only we knew, if only we had kept count.

It's more quiet here, that's for sure. My Roy, he was some talker. Almost didn't matter what about. Outside, he'd be jumping and chasing with Bengie right now. It's been five months, but that old dog still doesnt want to go out. Lays around in his daddy's chair all day, not getting his exercise. Sure he's sad. We all are. Couldn't imagine this whole damn year. Couldn't think we'd be rushing up to Thanksgiving now, and we don't have him anymore, my Roy.

Arrivals and departures, the last subway at the edge of existance. Your life was your ticket, just find a seat. The scenes will flash past now at breakneck speeds, decades down to minutes, years to mere seconds, pay attention or you'll miss it, that certain moment you wanted to steal back, that mistake that sealed the fate, no more redirects from here, no switch to pull, we're on fixed tracks now, you're going where we're all going, too late to ask for the conductor- this last train doesn't stop until it won't matter to anyone on-board.

Can a room be lonely? Do shadows have friends? Other shadows? There's no question you're invisible. It's clear you're not even here, except you are. The mirror and the shades confer. Light provides its own conversation. Small talk serves no purpose now. Down there, a street full of meaning. Somewhere to go, someone to see. You're on this side of the only door. Inside. You stay inside. You stay inside yourself. It's the very same room.