Roots

‘The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are healthy, your whole body will be full of light.’ This is undoubtedly true. Learn to study a persons’ eyes. You can learn if you are talking to an angel or a demon just by looking into their eyes. Though demons thrive on deception, some cannot hide the cruelty in their eyes. Be on guard! No need to fear, just aware so you can steer clear.

‘Do not be deceived: Bad company ruins good morals.’

I have found that not only my eyes, but my hair also, is a lamp. When I am in high spirits, or have a particularly lovely dream, my hair will be a lighter shade of auburn. Likewise, when I am mourning and lowly in spirit the red hue all but disappears. I imagine when I do reach spiritual fulfillment, my hair will look entirely new. Like the color of a gentle fire.

Where did this shade come from? Where did my mother get her deep, true red hair and freckles? She is of Columbian and Spanish decent, but something or someone must have added their salt to our ancestral soup. An Irishman! A wayward sailor visiting a port of my Spanish ancestors, she claims. Sounds at the same time too vulgar or romantic to be true. Maybe all great tales do. I do hope it was a communion of overpowering love and not mere savage lust, but either way history was written that night.

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I visited the North Texas Irish Festival in Dallas yesterday. Alone. And I went for one specific purpose – to hear laughter. Not my own, but of anyone having a good time, so I might feel a brief moment of joy from theirs. A little pathetic, I admit. But then, I have purposefully been brought low by our Father by my own wretched pride. ‘Pride brings a person low, but the lowly in spirit gain honor.’ May this refine me, so I never walk so alone again for all eternity.

But you know what, dear reader? I did not hear any laughter whatsoever. There were crowds of merrymakers (or merryseekers, rather), several stages for music, all sorts of animals, fine food, craft beer, vendors selling handmade goods and souvenirs… What more can a cultural festival provide? Why weren’t we happy?

‘ Because of the increase of wickedness, the love of most will grow cold, but the one who stands firm to the end will be saved. And this gospel of the kingdom will be preached in the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and then the end will come.’

It is evident that there is no love. No warmth. And there can be no true laughter without it.

It is also clear to me that alcohol is not a means to anything. And I think people are coming to this conclusion themselves, naturally. I have sought comfort and escape through alcohol myself, like anyone inducted into this alcohol-for-everything society. But no more. If I can be forgiven for this, so can you, humble reader.

‘Woe to those who rise early in the morning that they may pursue strong drink, Who stay up late in the evening that wine may inflame them!’

‘Wine is a mocker, strong drink a brawler, And whoever is intoxicated by it is not wise.’

‘”Be on guard, so that your hearts will not be weighted down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of life, and that day will not come on you suddenly like a trap.”‘

‘Now the deeds of the flesh are evident, which are: immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, outbursts of anger, disputes, dissensions, factions, envying, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these, of which I forewarn you, just as I have forewarned you, that those who practice such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.’

Alcohol is for the dying, and wine for those in bitter distress.’ or ‘Give strong drink unto him that is ready to perish, and wine unto those that be of heavy hearts.’

I do allow myself some wine and an occasional beer, but abstain from drunkenness. My heart is the heaviest part of me. Let me drink wine. Let us all drink wine – for all our hearts’ sake.

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