Obey the Rules, for Once.

Obey the Rules, for Once.

My first duty is to my lovely daughter-in -law. Never slow to help and is as usual going that extra mile to boost my efforts to stay in a positive frame of mind. What a God send such a helpmate it is to have in a fix and I am certainly in one now. Nevertheless, despite how I should be reading the runes it might appear to some, I feel great, not despondent, or depressed. The correct word is CHALLENGED.

And no this one is not kidding myself in the: ignorance is bliss mode, of looking at the world through 'rose tinted spectacles,' but based on almost seventy-seven years of life, love, struggle and monumental set backs and asinine errors that even a three year old would never be foolish enough to make. At last my life's purpose has, I believe, been revealed to me. This time I shall not, with God's help be thwarted from the realization of that goal.

It is certain, sure and been driven home to me even through my thick and impenetrable skull that: if I don't stick to the rules I have about six months to a year to live. That does not make for a very happy bunny but even happy bunnies have to wake up and stop expecting the world to make life too easy for them, for ever.
Now is the time for the RECKONING, as any God fearing moron will tell you there is always a time for a reckoning.

The question about reckonings is do you want them to be in this world? or the next? personally I prefer this, but then it is a democracy we live in, and one day the whole world will be such, once the odd blemish and odd ball has been shewn the light. By the way the impetus for this piece has been given in three ways. Interesting how the number three always seems to crop on my radar.

In chronological order they must be as follows.

When serving on board the HMS Diamond, a Daring Class ship returning early to its home base of Chatham, Kent, England , for refit, much to my consternation; Requestmen, had been called. There about to be, hoist by my own petard, was this little lad of almost eighteen summers: me.  The result of this charade, due to my immaturity was to be a humiliated laughing stock. I had solved my problem and disobeyed the correct procedure to do so. With a little more wit and maturity I might have triumphed but that was the Navy way in 1955.

The second indicator which has puzzled me until this very evening has been one that has puzzled far greater 'acknowledged' brains than mine over many years, even centuries, and had played a silent critic in my book case for a year or three, until one of my sons pulled it out on a visit and thumbed a few pages. However with all my other attempts: The Blind Watchmaker, was the key. This tome turned out to be the second convincing plank in the platform of erudition. The author had missed the point.

For nearly forty years it has an insistence even if only to me a a handful of wonderful people who have seen something in me that I have never seen in myself.  Now with the link placed with me now from Psalms 145,
as I read through this fantastic LINK, and see this Psalm 145, [623] is credited as David's Psalm of Praise.
Three days ago my brother Colin David, visited to heal the breach between us, most successfully. What better message could there be of support from the greatest support one might ever wish?

Of course that was not the point. It seems to me this is one point I shall have to labour. Until the human race, species, call it what you will, steps away from its obsession with a likeness of itself to God. It will never have the ability to evolve to the next logical stage of its development. By what law, gift or hand me down was it in the scriptures did God ever say, indicate or command that humanity should limit itself to imitate Him?

With all the superb advances and ingenuity produced in the twentieth century surely to God we can be worthy of His direction to expand and develop what he has already granted us, and with it such a fantastic expansion of the talents and abilities he has granted us. Instead of our typical bloody-mindedness over peanuts.

Just how short sighted does get when one sticks one's nose so far up one's anus it appears to be the vocal organ?