Merry Hypocrites

So there was this young married couple with child in tow visiting Vancouver at Christmas. Infant child became seriously ill. Young couple arrived at the Emergency ward at St Paul’s Hospital. Mother, back at home in the B.C. interior, discovered to her dismay the circumstance of her son and daughter-in-law and grandchild. The parents were spending Christmas Eve in the emergency ward waiting on news of their infant. Mother, poverty stricken, made every possible effort phoning restaurateurs, to get her family a pizza or dinner delivered to them. All she got was NO. Too busy.  

I would be very interested to publish the names of every restaurant owner who snubbed her. Merry Christmas you pricks.

The Movement of a Righteous Teacher

He didn’t talk or yawp. 

He spoke. 

His words created Life. 


He didn’t fumble about. 

He walked with grace as he was Grace. 

He didn’t fret with his hands.

His animated fingers were instruments of Creation. 


He didn’t giggle.

He laughed with abandon and utmost Joy.


He didn’t hesitate.

He behaved with Continuity.


He didn’t creep up on his environment.

He was the Holy environment, all of it.


He didn’t compete in conversation.

He attempted to share his secrets for all to know his Bliss. 


He didn’t squirm in fear.

He was Love which vanquishes fear.


He didn’t wince at a surprising sound.

He was the trumpet of all sounds.


He wasn’t bedazzled by the stars and the heavens.

He was their mystic turning and their music.


He didn’t meander aimlessly.

His every footfall a stamp of Beauty,

Unearthing ragged mountains, and provoking windstorms.


He didn’t dwell on the mundane.

His eyes pierced the veils of Mystery and enchanted more.


He did weep privately.

For His children deaf and blind,

Remained indifferent to His majesty.