“One day you will see… But I will not be here…“
I do see now, Dad. And you will always be here, always in our Father’s perfect love.
Releasing all your pain, blessing you from my deepest heart,
Your little Λέων
Yesterday in our weekly market.
There in front of me, he is suddenly standing.
We haven’t seen each other for a quarter of a century, and even back then as soldiers, we never shared many words. It wasn’t necessary.
It isn’t necessary. We just stand here face to face, eyes shining bright, hearts glowing with God’s love.
“How are you? How can I help you? Open your heart to me. I am your brother. How can I help you?”
Warm questions asked gently, with no curiosity or pressure, and no exchange of information ensuing; only words of divine trust and empowerment for our missions here on Earth, warm tears streaming down cold cheeks, and a long, tight heart-to-heart hug in the middle of this busy, for-a-while-noiseless street.
He reaches into his pocket, takes something out and slides it into mine.
“Oh, please now. See these nice vegetables here? We do have food on our table. Whatever you just…”
“It is not mine.”
“You have struggles of your own…”
“What was in my pocket did not belong to me. I knew. Christ told me this morning. I knew I would meet a brother. Everything will fall into place. You will see.”
Manolis, Μανώλης is his name. Diminutive of Εμμανουήλ, Emmanuel, “God is with us”.
Plutonia has been waiting in our old little car some streets away. She cannot walk without pains these days. “Here, my beautiful Love; this cauliflower head, fresh and white enough? And nice potatoes. And eggs. And lettuce and kale leaves and fresh green onions. And the kitchen tool that broke down last week, days after we bought it? How much did it cost? Et Voilà! From Heaven for us.”
💜 💜 💜
It’s not about the money or the food or the struggles, Loves. It’s not about anything of this world. Ever. It’s only about the Divine working through the visible, through us all, thanks to everything we go through.
Thank you for your presence here and in our hearts.
God bless us all.
Leon In Sacred Presence
Gratitude, Beloved Emmanuel:
👼 👼 👼
Thank You Michelle
BLOG 74—(present reflections tied to August 2000 journal entries about my healing and novel writing journey)—A friend recently shared a profound dream with me: she was inside her house and animals began entering in droves, one after another. She became scared as they continued to come inside.
But then she saw a Lion—a wise, divine, and beautiful Lion drawing her away from her fear. Just ask for what you want, the Lion advised her, and she knew in that moment that she had to choose between her fear and the immense beauty and wisdom of the Lion. My friend took the Lion’s advice and her entire demeanor inside her dream changed. She faced the animals, and simply asked them, without fear or doubt, to leave. They did.
While my friend was deeply touched by the message of the dream, it seemed the energy of the Lion and…
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I have been thinking about and praying for dearest Kate more recently, and now I know why.
Please feel a few of her struggles through her lovely poetry and please do support our precious friend, “whether that be with kind words or whatever money you can give.” God bless you always, beloved souls.
(Kate, love, keep this post up!!! ❤ ❤ ❤ )
(Caralyn sweetheart, could you visit Kate and reblog?)
I feel very self conscious posting this and may delete later.. I’ve just struggled so much and I’m finally ready for help but can’t afford it.
If you can give I’d be grateful, whether that just be supportive words or a donation. ❤
Dehumanization, Despair, Divine, Female empowerment, Heroism, Hope, Humanity, Leon, Plutonia, Posts in English, Prayer, Seelengeschwister, Soul siblings, Translations, Twin Flames, Universal Love, WWII
Plutonia and I watched an interesting post-apocalyptic film yesterday, which wonderfully combines with the following prose poem dearest Heidrun Regina shared today in the German original. The film, an image from which I use towards the end of this post, may be too noisy and brutal for some, but these lines will be gratefully appreciated by all dear ones.
Wolfgang Borchert was a German author and playwright who served in the Wehrmacht during the Second World War, and who in his works never compromises in questions of humanity and humanism. He wrote Dann gibt es nur eins! a few days before he died at the age of 26, in 1947.
We still need this spirit today, and it seems that even the gentler souls among us, often especially these precious ones, will be called to be brave, each in our own unique ways, never alone, never getting lost in this world, all of us together joining hands and keeping the connection between Heaven and Earth, the awareness of our Love essence.
Thank you, Heidrun. Thank you, everyone. 💜 🙏 Leon
* * *
Translated by Ryan Wilcox
Then There’s Only One Thing To Do!
You. Man at the machine and man in the workshop. If they order you tomorrow to stop making water pipes and cook pots and start making helmets and machine guns, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Girl behind the counter and girl at the office. If they order you tomorrow to fill hand grenades and mount scopes on sniper rifles, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Factory owner. If they order you tomorrow, to sell gun powder instead of talcum powder and cocoa, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Researcher in the laboratory. If they order you tomorrow, to invent a new death to do away with old life, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Poet in your room. If they order you tomorrow not to sing love songs, but songs of hate, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Doctor at the sick bed. If they order you tomorrow to certify men as fit for war, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Minister in the pulpit. If they order you tomorrow to bless murder and praise war as holy, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Captain on the steamer. If they order you tomorrow not to transport wheat but cannons and tanks, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Pilot at the airfield. If they order you tomorrow to carry bombs and incineraries over cities, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Tailor at your table. If they order you tomorrow to start sewing uniforms, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Judge in your robe. If they order you tomorrow to report to the military court, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Man at the train station. If tomorrow they order you to give the signal for the ammunition and the troop trains to depart, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Man in the village and man in the city. If they come for you tomorrow and with your induction papers, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Mother in Normandy and mother in the Ukraine, you, mother in Frisco and London, you, on the banks of the Huang Ho and the Mississippi, you, mother in Nepal and Hamburg and Cairo and Oslo – mothers in all regions on earth, mothers all over the world, if they order you tomorrow to bear children – nurses for military hospitals and new soldiers for new battles, mothers all over the world, then there’s only one thing to do:
Say NO! Mothers, say NO!
Because if you don’t say NO,
if YOU don’t say no, mothers, then;
In the noisy port cities, hazy with steam, the large groaning ships will grow silent, and like titanic, mammoth corpses, filled with water, they will lethargically totter against the lifeless, lonely, algae-, seaweed-, and shell-covered walls of the docks, the body that previously appeared so gleaming and threatening now reaking like a foul fish cemetery, rotten, sickly and dead –
the streetcars will be senselessly bent and dented like dull, glass-eyed birdcages and lie like petals beside the confused, steel skeletons of the wires and tracks, behind rotten sheds with holes in their roofs, in lost, crater-strewn streets –
a mud-gray, heavy, leaden silence will roll in, voracious and growing in size, will establish itself in the schools and universities and theaters, on sport fields and children’s playgrounds, horrible and greedy and unstoppable –
the sunny, juicy grapes will spoil on the neglected slopes, the rice will dry up in the desolate earth, the potatoes will freeze in the plowed fields and the cows will stretch their dead, rigid legs into the sky like upturned milking stools –
in the institutions, the ingenious inventions of the great physicians will become sour, rot, mold into fungus –
the last sacks of flour, the last jars of strawberries, the pumpkins and the cherry juice will spoil in the kitchens, chambers and cellars, in the cold storage lockers and storage areas – the bread under the upturned tables and on splintered plates will become green and the melted butter will smell like soft soap, the grain on the fields will have bent down to the earth alongside rusty plows like a defeated army, and the smoking, brick chimneys, the food and smokestacks of the stamping factories, covered by eternal grass, will crumble, crumble, crumble –
then the last human being, clueless with slashed intestines and polluted lungs, will wander alone under the poisonous, glowing sun and vacillating constellations, wander lonely among immense mass graves and cold idols of the gigantic, concrete-block, deserted cities, the last human being, scrawny, mad, blasphemous, complaining – and his terrible complaint: WHY? will trickle away unheard into the steppe, waft through the burst ruins and die out in the rubble of churches, slap against inpenetratable bunkers, fall into pools of blood, unheard, answerless, the last animal-like cry of the last animal human being –
all of this will come about, tomorrow, tomorrow perhaps, perhaps already tonight, if – if – if – you don’t
* * *
Our YES to Peace
keeps the connection
between Heaven and Earth,
the awareness of our Love essence.
S I L E N C E
* * *
Not a mopping being…
… just a mopping experience
since this July,
with no end in sight,
for no reward but the
of our community debt
that had been growing
be asked to start
blessing through me
–me seemingly just toiling
outside closed apartment doors–
people who had been feeling higher
on the crumbling social ladder
by judging others
all these blessed
having human experiences
in a state of constant prayer.
Three years online today
Glowing with gratitude for
all our heavenly and earthly friends
💜 💜 💜
💜 💜 💜
Saint Francis of Assisi Taming the Wolf, by Steve Simon.
About this wonderful true story and this artist’s depiction of it, enjoy the video after the following Franciscan benediction, beloveds.
The most important step in regaining these skills of ours is believing in their naturalness and in the always available higher assistance for our remembrance, so that we trustingly ask our angels to help us navigate through the times ahead as one divinely responsible human family.
Gratitude for your own prayers,
Love and Courage always
through Leon and Plutonia
A Franciscan Benediction
May God bless us with discomfort
At easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships
So that we may live from deep within our hearts.
May God bless us with anger
At injustice, oppression, and exploitation of God’s creations
So that we may work for justice, freedom, and peace.
May God bless us with tears
To shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, hunger, and war,
So that we may reach out our hands to comfort them and
To turn their pain into joy.
And may God bless us with just enough foolishness
To believe that we can make a difference in the world,
So that we can do what others claim cannot be done:
To bring justice and kindness to all our children and all our neighbors who are poor.