Think again.

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In the WordPress daily prompt today we are asked to “Think again” about a false assumption we had made and how we were proven wrong.

Somebody once told me “Frankie, you think way too much .” Hands up, I do, but I enjoy it. The great thing about truck driving is that one has copious amounts of thinking time. It’s like a think-fest up there in the cab.

I lump daydreaming and thinking in together. One minute I could be thinking about Saint Francis and the next I could be thinking about some lady’s bum in tight jeans, a mile back. That’s the way the hole, I mean whole, day goes by with me. I am sure there are lots like me and then…sometimes…I wonder if thinkers are dying out.

I have noticed something of an epidemic spreading across the internet. There seems to be a nasty kind of vibe towards people who believe in God/Allah/Christ/Muhammad/ or other faiths. I’m not talking about the recent scandals in churches. I am talking about belief.

What is wrong with people on this planet? As if we don’t have enough trouble convincing the world leaders to shake hands!! I reckon if Christ returned now he would be promptly crucified all over again.

Who was it said “It is the mark of an educated mind to entertain a thought without accepting it.” ? That’s right, Aristotle. And a damn good truck driver he was too.

If faith in God keeps somebody happy, keeps them from going off the rails, then what gives anybody the right to say it is wrong?

Do you feel the desire to remove a soother from the mouth of a child just to hear it cry? A child that doesn’t belong to you? No.

If you consider faith in God to be a handicap do you walk along the street making fun of mentally and physically handicapped people? No. Because you are an adult. A responsible adult.

A thought just occurred to me. Perhaps there is a common ground; Saint Francis of Assisi is the patron saint of animals and the environment. According to those who knew him, he tamed wolves, spoke to birds, the plants, the sun, the moon, the lot.

Like Doctor Doolittle in a long hoody. He loved animals and nature. At the same time he had his own faith/beliefs.

“I think” he got it right because he was the first person in recorded history to receive the stigmata. He bothered nobody. He had once been filthy rich and gave it all up for the simple life serving the poor. He loved his animals, his townsfolk, and his God.

There are lots of things I don’t believe; the news channels, the discovery channels, the moon landings, the 9/11 story, the ‘fracking is safe’ story, the ‘no cure for cancer’ story etc. But there is one thing which I hope never to trash, and that is a person’s core faith. In fact even though I am a Christian I have the deepest admiration in the way people of the Muslim faith practice their rituals on a daily basis. My hat goes off to them for the way they unashamedly pray aloud five times per day!!  God is lucky to hear from me once a week!

I enjoy reading blogs by Hindus, Buddhists, Muslims, Jews, Wicka etc., I admire those bloggers who throw little nuggets of belief into a post. They are so colourful. Just when I think I know it all they teach me something else about their beliefs. They are colourful people, not dull.

We have to grow up, collectively. Religions create colourful cultures in the various countries. Who wants to visit a country that no longer has it’s own culture? That’s where we’re heading…to a grey world. One dull shade of it.

Our religious and atheist figureheads have all died. Lets concentrate on stopping any more killing. Like the daily prompt says…Think again.

Thank you for reading

Frankie.

In response to http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/think-again/

 

 

 

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Slow learner.

Slow learner.

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“Pride always comes before a fall.”

My mother (the one with the dentures) said that.

I’m sure somebody else had coined it before her. But she never gave them credit for it. She made that comment her own and took all the pride for it.

It’s true though, about pride. Her words have been ringing in my ears on so many occasions throughout my life so far. And if my past is anything to go by, I will have plenty of falls in the future.

For instance, if this nonsense turns out to be the most popular post in the history of WordPress and the Likes are in the hundreds, overnight I will develop a swagger like John Wayne. I will forget Mammy’s wisdom until tomorrow’s post which will struggle to reach three Likes. And only then will I remember her words.

In recent years I have been improving my ability to shun pride. I try to stay grounded. I say “try.” But it’s like writing or running or anything really. The more I practice, the easier it gets.

I try to understand what the likes of Saint Francis understood. Even the wild animals wanted to be near him. I think he was the first person to recieve the stigmata. But in his early life he was no saint (as the cliché goes). He once said “I have been all things unholy. If God can work through me, He can work through anyone.”

My wife has warned me not to get too serious in my blog. I know she’s right but I can’t help it sometimes. I don’t want to be the great pretender on my own blog!

The truth is people like Saint Francis facinate me! The way a particle accelerator facinates a molecular scientist. Or outer space facinates an astronomer.

God is almost a dirty word in modern society. I wonder how they achieved that. It seems to be working for them, the new age thinking. I am no threat. The closest I will get to stigmata is perhaps a blister on my palm from holding a beer bottle the wrong way.

To wrap up and in answer to the question posed in today’s Daily Prompt I will steal a few lines from another mother, and take the entire credit like the imposter and hypocrite that I am.

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Thank you for reading

Frankie.

In response to http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/27/prompt-the-great-pretender/

Sacred Heart.

Sacred Heart.

Lanciano1

I will take a break from the silly stories for this evening’s post, if you don’t mind.

You are welcome to leave and read something else for whatever reason. But I have to get this out there, today, for some unknown reason. Maybe it will make sense to somebody.

Some of you will already know about my invisible friend, and how he teaches me things without having to put in an appearance. How he sets things up in order that I learn properly.

Today there have been too many prompts for me to ignore, and they are all begging me to tell this one story. Again, please leave if this story is not for you. I will have something light hearted tomorrow. Thank you.

About two years ago I was at Sunday Mass. I go there most, but not all Sundays. I’m only human. Like most Sundays I would daydream about this and that during the service. And to be totally honest some of my daydreams would shock even the author of Fifty Shades. I have normal daydreams also…sometimes.

On this particular Sunday my invisible friend whispered a question to me. It was so feint I thought I had come up with it myself.

Why do some people treat the wafer (host) at communion time as if it were the real thing? Surely this Body and Blood ritual has been misrepresented somewhere in the past two thousand years.

I pondered it again the very next day, driving in my truck. I wasn’t losing my religion but as usual I was questioning things like crazy. My mind is never on the road. It’s always elsewhere. Trucking is a great job for any budding philosopher. Lots of thinking time. Up here, in the cab, above the hustle and bustle. We see it all, us truckers. I can see Scotland on a clear day!

I listen to political chat shows although you would be forgiven for thinking otherwise.

So this day (the day after the question) the radio host took a break from the usual. He had a guest on who was talking about Padré Pio, a famous stigmatic. Incidentally there are a few alive in the world today. My aunt met one a few years back. He was also a monk.

Anyway, in the course of the conversation somebody mentions an event called The miracle of Lanciano.

In all my forty years I had never heard of this. In fact very few people get to hear about it. It’s one of those things you won’t see on telly. Because it is the polar opposite of the aim of television. I am not saying all telly is bad. But he who pays the piper calls the tune. That’s all I’m saying.

Getting back to the radio. The person told of a priest years ago in a town in Italy. He was saying Mass. At the consecration when he was holding the wafer aloft and saying the same old words, something happened. He started to doubt!

He doubted that the wafer was really the Body of Christ. He doubted that the Wine was really the Blood.

Instantly the wafer started to bleed, real blood. He dropped it onto the altar in shock. Members of the congregation ran to the altar thinking he had hurt himself. What they all witnessed was the wafer turning into a piece of flesh and the wine in the chalice turning to blood.

Samples were tested and found to be the same blood as the Turin shroud.

A scientist was given a sample of the flesh. He was told nothing of its history. He concluded that it was from the left ventricle of a human heart and that the person suffered a traumatic death.

There have been other identical miracles down through the years and in all corners of the globe. Buenos Aires, Poland, China, Japan…

I have included two videos below. But you can go and search the web yourself.

I am not a scientist. I am a trucker. All I know is that the question never entered my mind for all my forty years, until one day, and the very next day I got my answer.

I hope you get all your questions answered. There can be a time delay with the answer. But just like the old internet connections, spiritual connections are improving all the time it seems.

 

If this message has no meaning to you. Don’t even give it a second thought. Pass on by.

I’m still the same blogger.

Thank you for reading,

Frankie.

In response to http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/22/prompt-young/

Here are two samples you won’t find on telly.

There are better quality videos of this scientist on youtube. This is only a snippet.  He was an athiest writing a book about athteism when he realised the truth.

The Pope and I

The Pope and I

“Stand up,” she demanded. “Now, I am giving you one last chance to tell me your full Christian name, or else.”

I was terrified. I had already given her my full name.

I was baptised with the namesakes of two famous monks. Saints, both of them.

Francis Benedict. That’s who I was known as to my parents until about the age of five. From then on they called me Frankie. The problem was me. I couldn’t get my tongue around it.

It is quite normal for a child that age to have a slight problem with pronunciations. At bedtime I would pray to Jesus, Mary and Jofis. I couldn’t say Joseph properly. My two best friends were John Coss (Crossan) and Gerard Kaana (Kavanagh).

I remember the time when our regular teacher (a nun) was off sick or something. A new nun came in to teach us for a day or two. We were lucky in that our nuns were nice; Nowadays we hear some very sad stories of miserable childhoods.

But anyway, this new nun, Sister Assumpta, was winning us over by asking each child his or her name and making each one feel special. She was lovely. Young and full of joy and peace. Until she met me.

“Oh, look at you with your lovely curly golden hair.”

I smiled.

“What is your Christian name, child?”

“Francis Bendy-dick.” I replied, all proud of myself.

“Sorry. What was that, child?” Her smile was more fake now.

I told her again. I also told her that my granny had helped pick the name at my birth.

I think she blessed herself and then…well then she lost the plot. She turned into the nun from hell. A few of the children started to cry. My friend John had my back “Please Sister, that is his real name. I swear.”

And so it continued until she sent for the head nun. It was eventually all sorted and explained. She apologised to me and to the others. The head nun explained that Sister Assumpta had a build-up of wax in her ears. So that was that. Sorted.

It was sometime around then I became known as Frankie.

As a matter of throw-away fact, tomorrow is the feast day of Saint Benedict. I only know that  because there was a Benadictine monk on the radio today talking about opening a new monastery in Ireland.

If I could just give an opinion on the subject of names, in general. It doesn’t matter which name parents give to their child. It is how the child lives and how they treat those they encounter which is important. Even if his name is Lucifer it doesn’t mean he is destined to be a bad ass.

Good manners are worth more than any college degree.

I hadn’t given much thought about my double barrelled name until last year when, for only the second time in history, there are two Popes alive at once. Francis and Benedict.

I will strive to clean up my act from now on. I have a name (or two) to live up to.

Thank you for reading

Francis Bendy-dick.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/17/writing-challenge-names/#more-70813

Clap along, if you awoke at 11:11

Clap along, if you awoke at 11:11

“It might seem crazy what I’m ’bout to say..”

That is a line from a song my youngest girl (11) is going around the house singing. The song is called Happy. A catchy little number. I took her singing as  a prompt to write about this. I will take inspiration from the WordPress daily prompt to finsh it off.

There is an invisible entity which follows me everywhere. I first noticed it in 2007. It whispers to a part of my mind, sometimes so quietly that I cannot decipher between the whisper or my own brain generated thoughts. I think I now know what it is, or at the very least, what is at the root of it.

My gut, on the first day, was telling me it was Jesus. That’s an important point to remember. A few weeks later I googled the occurrences. Low and behold, I wasn’t alone. There were lots of others experiencing the same things.

Some claimed it was angels, others claimed it was the spirits of dead relations, others claimed it was half-angels called midwayers, some reckoned it was invisible alien beings.

I don’t know if it was their wishful imaginations or the truth, but some claimed to have conversations, during meditation, with their personal entities. I have no reason to doubt them. I have seen enough paranormal activity since 2007 to dismiss nothing.

One point, which did raise the eyebrow even further, was that most of these people were creative types; artists, musicians, writers etc. Maybe it’s just that these types use their minds differently than the average Lady Gaga wannabe. My own feeling is that we are all creative but some just haven’t discovered their talent yet, and maybe never will.

It is hard to get in touch with the inner self when everywhere we look, everything we read is telling us how we should live and think. From sinning to praying, and everything in between, there is a global standard which must be adhered to.

Even the trainee doctors are warned not to think beyond the medicine which their sponsor promotes. But when the time comes, and it will come, when the best doctor in the world can’t do any more for us, even the die-hard athiest will, I reckon, wonder on their last gasp…What if? What if there’s more?

There is a word, Synchronicity. It was first coined, about a century ago, by a man who spent most of his life thinking and philosophising. His name was Carl Jung. He was educated by a chap named Sigmund Freud. Who was in turn educated by somebody else. And fine thinkers they all turned out to be, they made the most of the grey matter.

You can check it out but Synchronicity is another word for Coincidence, basically. Synchronicity existed long before Jung invented the word. Coincidence existed long before the word, Coincidence. I am sure there was another word for it thousands of years ago.

I will get to that word shortly.

My realisation of the existence of an invisible entity started with a time on my phone (I don’t wear a watch). I would happen to look at my phone at the same time each day for a week back in 2007.  I tried everything resetting the time etc. But my hand would take on a mind of its own, reaching into my pocket and before I knew it, I was looking at it again.

Things got freaky after a couple of weeks. There were occasions where the phone would vibrate and light up at that same time. It was official, there was something hanging out with me and it wasn’t going away. It was then that I googled 11:11. It was also then I discovered I wasn’t that unique.

Lots and lots of strange things have happened since then, practically daily. So much so that it has become ‘not strange’ anymore. I will perhaps craft little blog posts about some of them from time to time.

I can see lots of you nodding in understanding. There is something big going on the world these days. More and more people are being slapped in the face with coincidences or synchronicities on a daily basis.

More and more are starting to see past the news headlines to the real truth, starting to see past the teaching to the real knowledge, starting to see past the material world to the invisible world. In short we are getting back to the truth. And the man in my About me page knows it’s happening and he knows the party is coming to an end. But they won’t go quietly.

The headlines are on the case, hijacking the phenomenon to steer your thinking back to the telly, back to the Discovery and National Geo channels, away from your inner voice. I have a feeling this will be a year for meteors. Nothing like a bit of good old fear to create chaos in the minds.

But you can’t fool all of the people all of the time.

I will wrap up this post before it turns into War and Peace.

This past few years I dip into the Bible when the notion takes me. It is overflowing with talk of signs and wonders. There are also warnings of false prophets. I read something in there like, “..and if they tell you ‘Come see, he is in the desert’ or ‘Come see, he is in the secret chambers’ do not believe them.”

If we are all creations of God he will let each of us know in person, when his Son touches down again. I don’t think he will need the media.

Is there a big significance to the number eleven? Maybe it’s just an eye catching number, maybe we are in the eleventh hour, maybe… I could go on and on and neither be right nor wrong. I don’t believe that this entity expects everybody to become numerologists.

In the Bible, Jesus talked about signs and divine things which the Father would bestow on us. He didn’t mention vibrating phones or philosophers or big words like Synchronicity but he did say we should become like children to enter the Kingdom of Heaven.

He also spoke of The Holy Spirit,  quite a few times in fact. That same Holy Spirit is also referred to in other religions. I feel this is the person/thing at the root of all the coincidences and synchronicities.

I read a book once which told of a twelfth century monk, Joachim, who had encountered the Holy Spirit one Easter Sunday. Knowledge was given to him that there is a Law of three in this world. The Father, Son and Holy Spirit equate to the old testement, the new testement and the new period into which we are now entering.

Oddly enough the three periods also, allegedly, tie in with the three ages Aries, Pisces and the one we are currently entering, Aquarius. The next period will, according to Joachim the monk, be the one where we will have a more direct line to God, via….The Holy Spirit.

Exciting times ahead then!

That was enough typing for three blog posts. Sorry about that.

I guess the moral is – Listen to our gut, once or twice…or even three times.

Thank you for reading,

Frankie.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/16/daily-prompt-i-believe/

Bless me Father.

Bless me Father.

“Three full Rosaries? You’re asking me to say three full Rosaries and yet yer man before me only gets a Glory Be, an Our Father, and a Hail Mary! After what he did!! You cannot be serious!”

But he was serious.

Today is known as Ash Wednesday in the Catholic religion. I’m sure you have heard something of it. I won’t go into the whole meaning, for two reasons: Firstly I don’t know the whole meaning, and Secondly I didn’t get my ashes today. I was “too busy.” So it would be a bit rich if I were to start a full scale lecture on it.

Of course my wife and kids recieved their ashes. In fact, I could right this moment ask any one of them about the meaning, and they would be able to give me the complete story. But I won’t because dads know it all, everything! It would be a sign of less than perfection. No need to rock the boat. “Steady as she goes, Captain.”

It is the norm in our faith to attend confessions at regular intervals throughout the year. It’s particularly common to have your confession heard in the lead up to an important Holy day, for instance, Ash Wednesday, or Easter Sunday, or Christmas day. You get the gist. The idea is that it wipes the slate clean before you recieve an important Sacrament. It have to admit, in most cases my conscience felt a lot lighter after a visit. It’s a strange one.

But the truth, and I’ll have to whisper in case the kids hear, is that I haven’t been to confession in about three years. Just plain old laziness. I’ll burn in Hell yet.

Speaking of whispers, there is one occasion which stands out in my memory. I was visiting the relations on my father’s side.  He is originally from County Mayo. The county famous for the Apparition at Knock, a small village, in 1879. Our Lady, Saint Joseph, Saint John appeared along with an Altar on top of which stood the Lamb, and there was a large Crucifix behind the Altar. None of them made a sound but the apparition lasted an hour or two. Fifteen people of all ages witnessed it. You can find out more on the WWW-dot if you’re interested.

Whether or not their surroundings had any influence, my father’s family were, and still are, devout Catholics. Everything was done by the book. So on the visit in question I tagged along to the local Church for confessions. When in Rome..

“..and maybe we’ll do the stations of the cross while we’re there,” announced my wife. Oh she is good!

When we arrived there wasn’t much of a queue, thanks be to God. And it seemed like no time at all until I had shuffled along the seat to be in the next up position.

I felt nervous. Not because I had murdered anyone. But because I knew that my devout relations would hear every sin I told, thanks to Father Echo, behind the curtain. Each faux pas that the sinner was mumbling, was being repeated at full volume by the priest, who sounded old and deaf. But his vocal chords were in mint condition.

“AND YOU HAD SEX WITH HER!”

“mumble mumble mumble.”

“AND YOU HAVE NO INTENTION OF MARRYING HER!”

“mumble mumble mumble”

“I TRUST YOU WILL FIND HER AND APOLOGISE! FOR YOUR PENANCE SAY ONE OUR FATHER, ONE HAIL….” he went on to absolve the poor lad of his sins.

I was next. I hadn’t counted on this scenario. So I played it cool.

“Bless me Father for I have sinned. It has been a while since my last confession…”

“HOW LONG IS A WHILE?” he interrupted.

“Oh about five years,  I can’t remember.”

“FIVE YEARS! FIVE YEARS SINCE YOUR LAST CONFESSION!”

Damn! By now the whole of County Mayo has heard my business thanks to Father Megaphone! All my wife’s good work, down the drain. I had to think quick. I couldn’t list all the real sins I had committed. I would be excommunicated, and worse, embarrassed.

“Oh I wished bad luck to a few people here and there, Father. You know, the usual thing when someone gets on your nerves.”

“YOU WHAT? THAT’S THE WORST TYPE OF SIN.”

And he left it at that. So now the folks outside think I am the Devil incarnate. Oh my God, tell me this isn’t happening. But it was, it was happening. He started shouting absolution prayers at the top of his lungs. I had lost the will to kneel. I slunk back into a corner of the cubicle. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” I mumbled.

“..AND SAY THREE ROSARIES FOR FORGIVENESS….”

There it was, the final nail! My reputation was in tatters. That’s pretty much all I remember. The rest of the day was a blur.

Thank you for reading

Frankie

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/05/prompt-sleep/

If anybody asks, you didn’t see me.

Edible Self Help books, now there’s an idea.

I am starting a new religion. My followers will write big chunky books about me, about the great things I’ve said and done. Thousands of years from now people of my religion will argue with people from other religions. They will post meaningful photos on social media sites with little quotes from me attached.

I will be long gone and they will still be debating my words. I’ll admit, my religion is hard work. Mere meditation won’t cut it. I will expect my folllowers to be all talk and little action. It will be called Hypocrisy and my followers will be called Hypocrites. It will eventually smother all existing religions. People will know what is important in this life.  “Self”  help books will be flying off the shelves like hot cakes. The world will live in peace and harmony under one….small group who know what’s best for all souls, all spirits.

oscar clappingchildhelp sign

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/03/writing-challenge-threes/