Suffering Souls and the Demons at the Helm

“Call me Querulus. I’m your friend.” Jesus said, “Querulus sounds like a strange name. What does it mean?” “It means complainer.” “Is that what you are?” Whining seemed like a trait one would rather hide then advertise. Querulus shrugged. “We take on a name to describe the state of our soul. It’s like a code. My soul complains about being trapped in this world of suffering. Doesn’t yours?” “Yes.” Jesus had no trouble answering quickly and simply. “If I stay will I be given a name?” “You already have one—‘Master.’ You just don’t happen to like it.” (an excerpt from “Jesus” by Deepak Chopra) Now I am in NO WAY saying that I stand in the shoes of either of these two characters: “Querulus”, the complainer, oh, maybe, yes; or “Jesus” the “son of God”, definitely, no. But I do strike a chord with being a soul trapped in this world of suffering and I don’t believe I belong here in it; I don’t believe any of us belong here in it. But if I do belong here, then there must be a grand plan for my being somewhere I don’t want to be.  And that is now the mission at hand and it seems fitting that I am spreading the word of the dangers in our midst and it comes in the form of  “Man” and what man has done to create such hell on earth. And if “Satan” is lurking then he most certainly is dressed in a silk suit and tie, with shiny black shoes, sitting behind or hiding behind, I should say, a big wooden desk, nicked with knotty dark holes of pine and adorned with crystal paper weights. He swivels this way and that way, leaning back in his over-stuffed, tufted easy chair, a wisp of a dark curl blanketing one very blackish eye. He curls his lip and admires his fancy work, while the lowliest of the world bow at his size 14 feet. We are the lowliest of his lows, his scavengers, his avengers, seeking his next deal, brought to him on a sterling silver tray with an ornate base and a “priceless price tag.” We are dispensable, however, and if we fail to bring him his next big deal or pay his meal ticket, we will surely perish, or land in a very cold and lonely place, a place where death may be a better option. Or, if not his choice to make, then he will summon his cohorts and make them the avengers, so as not to spoil his squeaky clean appearance. “Get the foot soldiers, with their bayonets”, he yells. “Let them show those paupers whose boss. I have a luncheon to get to. No time for dirty work today. Call my chauffeur and tell him to bring my car, today I’ll take the “Mazarati”, I’m meeting someone very special.”  The character, spins twice in his seat, hands clasped tightly in a show of force. He is delighted with himself.  The very special person he meets resembles you or I, but it is most certainly not you or I. This devilish ghoul wears “Levi’s” and a plain white “V” neck T-shirt; non-descript in appearance, lethal in nature and spirit. They talk of the next “big” thing to invest their stolen money in. A new drug, a new way of farming to produce massive amounts of genetically modified foods, or perhaps a new drug to introduce to the newest of the lowly. Something to keep the little ones from getting pudgy; they have scientists waiting in the wings and lobbyists sitting in high chairs, the thought makes them drool over their “rib-eye” and martini. They have no worries. Today there is no shortage of “eager beavers”, chompin’ at the bit to get a piece of the action. Today freedom reigns supreme, their mansions are bought and paid for. Their children don’t know hunger and their high maintenance wives are away at the spa, cackling on smart phones and bragging about their hubbies. They talk about their next vacation, how annoying it is to fly today, all the groping of their private parts. What harassment, they clamor; ruby red lips chirping, while slurping on a “ Carmel Macchiato, extra whip, no cherry.”  What have we become? Does anyone else see what is going on or am I “out to lunch” and missing something?  I am screaming from the top of my lungs, calling the authorities, relating the horrific stories of death, illness and destruction and watching and listening as the sick people pray to God for healing, or just some small amount of relief. Praying to anyone who will listen: “My God, why have you forsaken me?” is the query. Though it is not God who has forsaken anyone. God is not being heard. He is speaking but no one is listening; only a select few have tuned in, but they are too few in number to make a difference and God sees the frustration mounting. He is calling on His children to wake up, take back the helm of this sinking ship and toss out the infiltrators, the soldiers, and the ones in black. He knows we are still worthy. He knows we are not dead yet. But He also knows we need Him more than He needs us.  As the excerpt continues: “Jesus didn’t reply. He remembered what Querulus had said that morning about a new life, as if he naturally belonged to their group. Did he? The strange and detached state of his mind still lingered. Jesus felt no inclination to run away. In a world without peace, his soul cared very little where he went.” And in a world without peace, my soul is beginning to care very little about where we go, as we surely are not in control. That may sound macabre, but there is a certain amount of peace that comes when light shines on the darkness of reality. And in reality, if you believe and have Faith, then you know God gives favor to all men, the hunter and the hunted, the predator and the prey, the tormented and the tormentor, the weak and the strong, the sick and the well, the rich and the poor. So who I am to sit in judgment of the one who has prospered and made me so sick? God and the Universe are the only one’s who will judge in the end. I must take the consequences and make good out of bad, share what truth I know about corruption and how to heal from such sickness as bequeathed unto me. And do it with a smile and compassion and kindness of heart.
(This Thursday, May 8th @ 2p.m. there is a meeting at 725 Veterans Hwy, with Legislator William Spencer. I will be speaking about the health hazards of smart meters and cell phones. If you are suffering and know it is a smart meter, please attend. Thanks! S.B.