Peace talks

A beautiful sunset in a huge puddle by my house

I'm going through old stuff, and new stuff.

Scribbling stuff down. 

Looking at thing's I've written and wondering if it's too old to share. Too new to share. If I should share it at all.

What makes something worth sharing?

The question of my life.

 This made me laugh, so I'm sharing a conversation me and my sister had a while ago. I wrote it down, because it made me laugh.

Me, "Our family talks too much. I think mom fed everyone too many tacos."

What would be the counter spell to that? Bess asked.

We both paused...

"Ah," Bess's eyes lit up. "Hush puppies."

Yes! WE both agreed.

Yes.

Everyone is talking too much. Right now, everything feels huge, and amplified, it feels like words are bubbling out from everyone's skin pores.

It feels like there's just one endless stream of words coming in, and out everyone, without any pause.

Where are the listeners?

The ponderers?

The soul people, who have something worth saying?

It feels like everybody's mouths cannot shut up. It's like one person's mouth stops, and another one begins.

Whoot!

I finally understand why God confounded the languages.

It seems like a smart thing to do. He just wanted everyone to meditate for a couple days, listen to nature. To quiet down, so he could think his own thoughts. Then everyone would have to figure out a different way of communicating.

Maybe after a little pause, they would have something worth sharing.

So many egos talking about someone else's egos. Or one mask talking about another person's mask. That's all conversations summed up right here.

The them, didn't do something to make, me happy. Bad them.

Good me.

Or, That Big Scary, it's coming! Scary, scary. That Big Scary, Boo! Yes. Ohhh... shivers.

Spooky!

Oh, and that bad government them, the thems over there.

Watch out.

Oh, those weird thems.

And so the story goes....

Thems...

Over there thems.

Yonder, look, there's more, thems.

The thems that don't, or do, doing themy things.

What shall we do?

I told Bess I think that we're all born in into mismatched families.

Family's that were coded differently. A zoo family, with lions, and birds, and monkies trying to communicate, trying to feed each other monkey food, or fish food, when we are not any of those creatures.

It makes sense that our souls might be frustrated. We are trying to find resonance with a soul blueprint that never feels quite authentic---one is a mermaid, another a unicorn, one is a falcon, one, a rabbit, one a tree soul, one a fairy, one a bluebird, one a elk, one a bear, one a swan, one swims, one flies, one walks, one is rooted, one wanders, one stays, one has magic.

No one is wrong.

But when you live together, it can feel wrong. Converting to everyone to your religion of water, when one feels their soul in the air, or eating berries in the woods, or peddling their love of bananas.

Would you say any one of these things is bad. No. Just a blueprint difference for variety, and fun.

Yes.

And perhaps, if we started seeing this, maybe we could have peace talks.

Talks that were enlightening, not fight-ening.

Instead of using words for division, we'd use them like echo-locators, clicks, and sounds that helps us find our way in the dark.

 

Music, and beautiful words that are simple, and true, and honest. Sharing beautiful thoughts, without our open carry egos, we use to intimidate, or harass.  To look big or powerful.

 

Our conversations wouldn't have to always be filled with sound, but silence, too. Comfortable. Easy. Back and forth.

 

I taught Sunday school class for nearly eight years, to small children. I realized early on, that no one will listen to you, unless you listen to them.

So I would bring a talking stick. Something someone held, while everyone listened.

 

It really was the lesson, mostly, because by the time everyone had a say, the lesson was very short. There would always be one kid that would fold his arms, and frown, and ask when we were going to get to the important stuff.

This was the important stuff.

Learning to listen.

Sharing the talking stick.

Passing it around.

If we could all get that one thing right, without holding the talking stick too long, and pass it around, then listening quietly, who knows what might happen.

Everyone wouldn't feel quite like they were in a caged Zoo.

But in a beautiful jungle, or a rain forest, free, and interested in everything, and everyone.

            Peace talks.

            But it also, listens, too.