For our soul is bowed down to the (dirt); Our body clings to the ground. Arise for our help, And redeem us for Your mercies’ sake. ~ Psalm 44:25,26
The Great Evil is being revealed to us in small bytes day by day by day. God’s mercy is saving us the unbearable horror of the data dump in the one fell swoop, I assure you none of us could endure…Hint: Material found on a seized laptop in Oct of 2016 was so horrific it reduced the toughest and most seasoned NYPD police veterans to tears…later “suicided” for what they saw.
I tell you…if you cannot hear God talking to you, it’s only because you’ve stopped listening. And oh my, how easy they have made it for us to stop listening. Take, for instance, the simple everyday experience of stopping at one of your favorite eateries, in my case the black-dirt gem, Quaker Creek. While waiting for my sandwich I passed the time leafing through the latest copy of “dirt”, the local magazine that oozes “healthy living from the ground up”. I swear I got a whiff of patchouli emanating from my pores by simply touching the pages (kidding!) But seriously, in the span of five minutes I realized what I was holding in my hands had less to do with dirt, and more to do with socially guiding the reader to a specific belief system while transforming the soil from the gift of God to the object of worship…as in Gaia. Organic Marxist agro-agitprop from cover to cover. God, how the Devil is the MASTER of deception! He wants…he needs us “bowed down to the dust…Our bodies clinging to the ground.”
I happened to notice an invitation from the editor to submit a poem, within the pages. God blessed me with the following which I never expect(ed) to see published:
True Dirt ~
I’ve been around a block or two I’ve stumbled in the din I’ve been down and out, and out and in I’ve had to start again.
Two kinds of dirt, I’ve found in life there’s one to help us grow and one that seems just what it’s not although it seems to glow…
Like words that spring from hearts of truth to make us better men…the words of “Dirt” I find within, while sweet to sight and smell, are writ to fool the foolish man… and lead him straight to Hell.
Wonders never cease, as I continue writing this morning after having been contacted by the editor yesterday (8/1) with a favorable opinion of my work, and a curiosity about my theory on where she was leading her readers. We had a very pleasant exchange, and at this very moment I am awaiting her permission to make our exchange a part of today’s SMTU.
Thanks for sharing. Is this poem inspired by the magazine? That is a) awesome even though b) my intention when I go to the office in the morning is not to lead readers straight to hell. Still I’d love to publish it, perhaps with a little explanation? I welcome all feedback, critical or otherwise, so don’t hold back.
First of all, your kind words are appreciated. I was leafing through “Dirt” while waiting for my sandwich at Quaker Creek yesterday, saw the invite to send poem and “True Dirt” was my response. I guess my explanation is, in horticultural terms, that we are desperately lacking a key ingredient in our societal garden. It’s kind of like the news, “our precious Fourth Estate”. When I grew up it was impossible to tell the ideological leanings of the journalists. If I would have picked up your magazine thirty years ago, I would have seen only people, plants, and things that helped me to better understand the people, plants, and things themselves. Reading the July-August issue of dirt yesterday, the clear sense was how I was being led to certain types of people, with certain attitudes about plants and things with a very clear political association which could only have two results; appeal to me, or alienate me based on my own political opinions and beliefs. We were a much happier people…a much healthier garden, before we stifled the light of truth with political correctness and identity politics.
Thanks for explaining. I’m not a fan of how politics has infiltrated everything, either. When I was little, there were a few golden years of elementary school when I got to play with the boys and the girls. Maybe because I was a tomboy, sandwiched between two brothers, I was the only one who was able to slip between the two worlds, playing baseball one day and house the next. Like then, my hope now is that I can figure out how to cross over these hollow divisions. I do my best not to lean a certain way, to include a diversity of views in the magazine. Sometimes I succeed better than others. I’m proud to count traditional farmers and hunters among my readers along with activists and vegans and you name it. You can’t please everyone… but I see my job as being a crossover, shedding a light on the things we have in common. There’s plenty of it!
Parting thoughts ~ I am part of an organization that fights for the constitutional rights of everyone to freely express their beliefs and opinions. Our organization has been maligned by Straus staff based on the totally debunked Southern Poverty Law Center. And its common knowledge that Big Tech is censoring, shadow-banning, and de-platforming Conservative opinion sites…so I guess I’ve grown a bit skeptical. You seem fair though…wish u the best. ~ Slept on it…
Good Morning Becca,
Reading your words, you seem like a good person to me. I write a Sunday Morning Tune-up and was hoping to incorporate our exchange (on some level) into this Sunday’s piece inspired by my “True Dirt” (How God talks to me) experience. With your permission of course. I key off God’s word: For our soul is bowed down to the (Dirt); Our body clings to the ground. Arise for our help, And redeem us for Your mercies’ sake. ~ Psalm 44:25,26
Here’s last week’s so you have a sense of my style, and where I’m coming from: “A Simple Change of Heart” Maybe there’s a chance we could work together to be a better “crossover, shedding a light” than we would otherwise be individually? ~ Chip
Please do use it! I’m using it too. And I might be game for some crossover… I wonder how? I’ve got three little ones so my schedule is tight right now, but if we could find some way that wasn’t too time consuming…
St. Alphonsus Liguori once wrote, “The Devil brings sinners to Hell by closing their eyes to the dangers of perdition.” I found God referenced twice in dirt; Daniel Mack ironically writing about “god’s (small g) creatures” (vultures) that “symbolize purification, a letting go, a dying.” And Ken Mitchell, the poet who really brought my point home by placing “the Lord and Lucifer” on equal stumps in “amicable dispute” beneath his Earthshine. God is otherwise abysmally conspicuous in His holy absence. Better to leave Him unaddressed than to diminish His leading role in the Universe of All Things…including dirt.
I should mention that I changed socially manipulating the reader to socially guiding the reader in the 2nd paragraph after realizing through our exchange that Becca is far from a manipulating person. I think this is more a case of not missing things that are kept from us. Imagine had Van Gogh been similarly squirreled away in some dungeon, away from the public eye and all association with his creation…leaving us to worship Starry Night alone.
The dirt is as black, rich, and fertile as it was when I moved into the Warwick Valley in 1987, but the voice of God, alive and well in every church back then, has been reduced to a whisper, and His word to social justice mantra. The results are plain to see for those with the heart and will to see. The Big Pharma that kills with needle and gun…taking 19 innocent lives in the span of this writing, the fentanyl and suicide death rates, the rising mountains of debt, the increasing alienation and polarization dividing all of us who were once friends and family, and the sexualizing and grooming of our children through Drag Queen Story Hours popping up everywhere are signs and the harbinger of the coming dust bowl…because even dirt needs God to live! We have strayed so very far from home, we’ve become unrecognizable…even to ourselves.
I sought for the greatness and genius of America in her commodious harbors and her ample rivers—and it was not there…in her fertile fields and boundless forests and it was not there…in her rich mines and her vast world commerce—and it was not there…in her democratic Congress and her matchless Constitution—and it was not there. Not until I went into the churches of America and heard her pulpits aflame with righteousness did I understand the secret of her genius and power. America is great because she is good, and if America ever ceases to be good, she will cease to be great. ~ Alexis de Tocqueville (1805-1859)