Contriteness arrives.

I find myself seeking the shores of our collected resonance.

When I alight on the pages of my warrior tribe – there is always an immediate feel of re-connection.

I am unable to watch the smoke and mirrors any more.   From rage, to incredulity to I just can't do this anymore.  Firstly it just stopped satisfying my human curiosity and secondly because it was just like stale socks.

So my time spent online is mainly on our website and on a  Brazilian Portuguese language site -   and other times popping in to visit.  Where is Chicory?  I hope Nina is warm?  Where is Zoner – months since he appeared at a gathering.  Bholonath – the wise elder- the shower of the ways,   Troutclans  capturing in words what every kid at school should have to study.  Life in creation.  is Erin dancing now?   And then those who don’t have their own soapbox and yet come as beautiful visitors.   Scrap,  Turey,  Neil.  I know -  but I still look for him. 

Yesterday morning I was watering the front of the garden, when a huge grape truck overtook another seriously huge grape truck, on a narrow road, in the middle of a village and so very nearly swiped me.  And when I went off balance I remember holding the hosepipe directly through the open window and spraying the driver and screaming ‘ you fucking arsehole’ – which reminds me where is Timster? 

Some time ago I wrote about the old pope and obama-and I had the pope and some others peeling themselves off in retardants from the oil spill.  Pontification on my loathing of the catholic church was  tangible to all senses.    Even taste.   We had all seen images of Pope Rat looking like the evil shit he is.  Defending the priests above the children leaves very little credit to your name. He failed the basic test of not being an example to one human being let alone over a billion souls.  Religious leader who does nothing to protect innocence and purity.   Hmmmmm.  But we all knew that.  

The day that he resigned a whole lot of pieces fell into place.

So efficient is the human memory system.

The first memory was of when the financial woes of Spain were really tightening.  Major austerity protests and such.  The pope was due for a visit and the govt surprisingly made a move to cancel the visit stating that the costs of him being there were so great – largely due the security that would be needed.   The people were angry and this was not the time for papal grandeur.   Blow me down  online is an image of him with a purple sky filled with lightening behind him and the most menacing sky you could imagine.  There he was with all the pomp and ceremony.  Supposedly against gay marriage but dressed in the most vile of drag.   The link to a revolutionary who lived for 40 days without food in the desert?  I don’t think so.  But there he is sitting  like a king and a lord when a bolt of wind lifts his …zucchetto ……off his head and blows it away. 

This memory takes me to a you tube link-  whereby the pope was at a gathering …………

Cardinals from everywhere were there.  In front of him was an affable young man, and then he came behind sort of shuffling.   Smiling.  Shaking one hand and then the next, and then the next, and then the next  and about the 14^th the cardinal simply averted eye contact.  My thought upon seeing that was ooops that is a  bit of bad protocol.  Then the second cardinal did the same thing.  The fourth went as far as to withdraw his hands onto his chest.    This was extremely significant.   I spent hours musing what it must have been like to be present and to witness that and how quickly did the tongues wag.

And so I typed into the search bar of  current  omniscience  - ‘more about the pope’s rebuttal by cardinals.  There is a name for a sign from God when a pope should no longer be a pope and one of them is if the sacred zuchetto blows off his head.  I did not make this up.  So looking back now for a link to substantiate this, on the  1^st google page the first three hits are how he nearly had his zucchetto blown off but then a few down you get the story of not only how it had blown off but how it was never found.

The next memory that emerges is Christmas at the Vatican.  Ho, ho ho.   A crazed woman apparently runs right up to him and knocks him over.    How this happened is a mystery or perhaps an act of God.    With the security he has.  He even has a pope mobile which is incidentally bulletproof, bombproof,  gas and germ proof.   Must be a much loved man.  And the final data bank retrieval is of the pope once more dressed in drag on the balcony of the whatever and he releases a dove of peace and as it flies up a seagull attacks it.  This is photographed by the world media.

Which brings us to the moment that the pope announces his resignation due to age.

Bullshit he was fired.   There was a coup.   A well contained,  no leak coup.  And the day he resigned of course there is that infamous image of the three bolts of lightning to strike the dome of St Peter.

And then a new pope needed to be chosen.

Forums were awash with talk of the next pope being the last pope and being the anti Christ and on an on -  and his name would be Peter.   Speculation was rife.  Odds on Francis were 25 to 1.

I imagine the cardinals at the last session had a weight on them of substance and import.   Since 21/12/2012 it has become apparent everywhere that truth is emerging.    New energies are needed, redemption if called upon – contriteness becomes key.     In my imaginings I felt the presence at that gathering to be divinely guided for the first time in a long time.   I don’t believe you voted this time for allegiance or favour, I believe one had no choice but to vote for Truth and Love – and that was what happened.

So a little after 7pm on the 13 -03 – 2013 Pope Francis was announced.     The black smoke turned white and a seagull sat on the chimney out of which the smoke came.  Perchance even the same seagull that had attacked the dove a short while before.

The new pope :

Chooses the name, not of someone of power or influence but of a  selfless saint whose being was purity of intention .

He refuses to stay in the Vatican palace.

 He speaks against  greed.

Paid his own bills during the enclave.

Cancels his news paper subscription himself. (Okay, I am a detail person).

His first sermon  finds him placing a simple bunches of flowers at Mary’s alter and spending time in silent prayer.    The Embracing  of the Divine Feminine.  

Over Easter he chooses to watch the feet of prisoners at a remand center in Rome.

He also broke with tradition and watched a muslim woman's feet.

And in each image I see absolutely no ego.

This man is able to  be humble.

Tonight I saw an image of him prostate on the floor of the church.

In total humility.

All eyes watching, he reminds us what faith is actually about.

It is so rare for us to see true transformation that I long for this to be an example.

Not about being catholic or not, or Christian or not, or anything – just that Life can

at this moment in time, bring someone forth, through those most murky dark  passages of power and privilege that embodies light.

I wish him a papalcy of transformation and redemption.

And another reason I wrote this blog today, was my dad, sent me an email the other day asking for the address.  And I am so touched that I wanted to welcome him here directly - welcome dad – welcome to these pages – so good to have you here.