Robin Murarka Presents Akin - A Literary Masterpiece of Life! A Personal Favorite for 2025!

 "Do I exist? Not in your sleeping dreams, my boy. And fear not purging my memory from reality, for the truth is more pious a goal than delusion."

But this is god, Aydan . . . the ground bleeds this into plants, animals . . . even us . . ." "That sounds nice, Samaye . . . I would like to be in a world surrounded by these patterns, as they are in Tphetria . . ." "These are just stories to most, my brother. They are corrupt people . . . my people," Samaye explained. "I had to leave for my soul could not consume it. I could not understand it." "What do you mean?" Aydan asked. "The structures . . . they are created through god . . . through the groups. But it is my own family, my brethren that work as slaves. Not as family. There is a group, a powerful group . . . the Methias . . . they . . . were like us. But they adorn themselves in vanity . . . and they use god's knowledge for purposelessness. They attain their knowledge from strangers . . . strangers from far away. And they keep it hidden." He began to cry gently. "It hurts my heart, akin. That so many suffer for their greed. They keep the knowledge to themselves and the strangers hidden. And when I encounter the Methias in the street . . . they are like me . . . like you. Of flesh, with soulful eyes. The confusion in me is like a disease, akin." His crying deepened, and he began to lose his breath and heave as thoughts began to consume him. "I am . . . perplexed . . . akin . . . the man in the mask . . . the rest . . ." he struggled to say between gasps. Aydan suddenly became concerned and called to him. "Samaye . . . you must calm yourself. Count with me . . ." Samaye began to cry harder, the sobs turning into grunts as the intensity of his groaning became louder and harder. As he heard Samaye, a hollowness began to form in him. "It . . . it is . . . akin . . . it is . . . inconceivable . . . that my brother . . . my own akin of flesh . . . would harm me so," Samaye uttered in between gasps of breath mixed with tears and grunts. Aydan closed his eyes and pressed his palm against his door. "My akin . . . brother . . . mewah akin . . . oh god . . ." Samaye began to heave as if he was choking. Aydan's face grimaced, and he too began to cry. "You must breathe, Samaye . . . we are together, you and I." Samaye fell to the ground and curled up, holding his stomach. "My stomach pains . . . it hurts so tremendously. I . . . I . . . think of his smell . . . and it . . . it ills me, akin . . . "It ills me . . . that such a terrible feeling should . . . should . . . associate itself . . . to the thought of my own brother!!!" His gasping turned into a steady cry, weeping heavily as he began to drown. Aydan's own chest began to tighten, feeling helpless towards his companion. "Not everyone is our brother, Samaye . . ." Aydan responded after a moment. "Not everyone sees us as we wish to see them. Do you see?" Samaye clutched his hair in his hands and wept wholly. As Aydan listened to him, he began to contemplate that Samaye was not fooling himself into believing that the Fayem was his brother. It seemed he truly saw him as that. He cried with the deep seated pain that only betrayal could fuel, not delusion. "Why, Samaye . . ." Aydan asked. "Why do you think he loves you . . . that he wants to . . . that he could? He is not your brother . . . he is an animal." "Akin . . ." Samaye responded, crying deeply. "Do you believe he does not yearn to be loved freely and completely?" Aydan opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The gentleness of Samaye's rebuttal shattered any preparedness he had in his criticism of Samaye's perspective. The truth was, as he thought of the Fayem and all the cruelty in his nature, he could not argue that the Fayem yearned for love. As his mind contemplated it against his will, he found himself more and more convinced that this was indeed the case. And as he did, the fear and hatred became less fortified within him. It was a feeling he was not comfortable with, and although he tried to re-envision the atrocities of the past day to re-enforce his stance, Samaye's voice, like the hand of god, ushered all arbitrary thoughts away, leaving only unpleasant truths. "I . . . I don't understand, Samaye . . ." Samaye sat in the darkness, holding his head in his hands. He contemplated the physical pain within him along with the confusion of the abuse. He nodded to himself. "Akin . . . why did he manifest his hatred upon me when I have done nothing but love him?" Samaye's words shook Aydan's head, and he burst into tears, uncontrollably crying at the thought of the sheer vulgarity of such hatred that would facilitate the abuses that Samaye had suffered. "I don't understand, Samaye . . . I don't know . . ." He cried like a child, not knowing where the tears were coming from. "Why are his actions so hurtful to me, Samaye? Why do I expect more of him?" Aydan asked. He became furious and began to scream. "He is an animal! Not a man! Not a man to do such things to you! Not a man! Why are you hurt? He is not a man, he is a beast! A demon placed upon this world with nothing like us in his chest! He is a beast! Why do you cry? Why do you cry at a bastard animal acting as such?" "I know nothing, akin, except that he yearns for my love, just as I do his . . ." Samaye responded immediately. Aydan slammed his hand against his door repeatedly, trying to alienate himself from Samaye's words. He believed it to be true, but loathed his own certainty of it. Samaye lay down, curling up in his cell as tears ran down his cheek. He did not sob, for the thoughts came and went, but the confusion that remained hurt him with every emergence. "I don't understand, akin . . . why would he hurt me so?" Samaye asked as one such emergence arrived, causing his tears to flow faster, his body tensing up. And with every sob that Aydan heard, he understood them not to be fuel to the effect of hating the man, but attempting to understand his motivation and purpose, his capacity to hurt Samaye in such a manner while he was loved. It was the pain of confusion, almost mind-numbing confusion, brought about by his attempt to understand why one would reject the love, the real empathy, compassion and trust Samaye had so freely invested into him. Aydan was confused by his feelings, for he resided in a realm of fear and openly accepted that none were his friends or comrades. Yet, the way that Samaye was, was of a completely different nature. He was suffering immensely and the victim of his faith in someone like the Fayem, but there was something he carried within him . . . something familiar to Aydan that he both deeply respected and desired. There was a border, he saw. In the darkness, his senses numbed, he could almost visualize it. His world, entirely existing before this point, Aydan was alone, surrounded by teeth. Bethelhurst meant as well as he could but was never a companion of sorts, never Aydan's ally. And though he navigated the world around him successfully, the concept of an ally was unspeakably rich to him, as if seeing this border in the darkness opened up his thirst for love. It was as if he discovered a gaping hole in his stomach, and there was a vacuum there, and though he could not feel it before this moment, it had been there all along. Aydan slammed his hand against his door, once, forcefully. "Samaye." he called out. "Samaye!" he yelled. "Yes." Aydan calmed himself, choosing his words carefully. "Are you my brother?" Samaye began to weep uncontrollably, pressing himself against his wooden barrier, stretching the wound on his back. "Because I . . . am your brother," Aydan continued. Samaye placed his palm against his door, crying profusely. "And I am going to break this."

~~~

He had dreamed of voices that morning, but they were not all his creation, but from some other place, some unseen place, unlike him, reaching out to him. They called him brother, as did Samaye. He wept as he thought of his friend, his brother, his brethren. But just as the tears arrived, so too did they stop, as he dismissed reality in favor of fatigue and deep breathing as he fell into the world of sleep. Perhaps his friend would be there in the morning, and he was mistaken. His hands felt the sand beneath him with every temporary moment of consciousness, as if he hoped to find grass, or water, or something other than the crystalline pebbles against his fingers. He rubbed his hand in them angrily, losing all hope, unable to even wet his lips, afraid that if he opened his mouth, his tongue would shrivel up and die, taking him along with it. He lay down, finally, feeling weight upon his body, pushing away from it, nuzzling his head in the sand. With his nose now completely blocked, he opened his lips only minimally to take in air. He tried to filter out the loose sand that came in with every breath but could taste the rocks against his tongue and even tried to chew them in some delirious state, hoping to extract flavor and juices out of them. Perhaps no one had ever tried, he thought, and he would discover something miraculous that would empower him. He recalled something he had contemplated as a child. His eyes closed, he tried to whisper the concept, trying to resonate it within. "If . . . "If . . . I can sing . . . if I can sing . . . if I can sing the words . . . then I am not defeated." He lay there, hearing them, thinking them, feeling them. He repeated, louder. "If . . . I sing . . . if I can sing the words . . . I am not defeated." He took a deep breath in and felt the words, like blood, coarse through his system . . . and began to scream. "If I have the luxury of song, I am not defeated! Hear me! I am not defeated!" He took another desperate breath in and whispered to himself. "If I am song . . . I will never be defeated . . ." Then the wind in the desert was all that could be heard. The miniscule crackling of fragment after fragment, pieces of orange earth dancing in the wind, running a gauntlet up and down the dunes of the dry infinite sea. They filled his hair, his ears, and piled up on either side of him. As if attracted to the fleeting warmth in his body, the little creatures that touched him lay down with him, upon him, to be close to his spirit. His hand closed around the sand, holding it in his fist. He kept his eyes closed and began to sing. "The world closes around me . . . "But I am still here, I am still here." He stopped in between every line to pause and gather energy. "The lands swallow me whole. "I am still here . . . I am still here. "I am still here . . ." he whispered quietly, feeling the embrace of the dream world. "I will always be here." Still. Perfectly still. It was the stillness that awoke him. His ears perked, and some vessel of awareness ran down his ear, into his mind, and began to scream as loud as it could, and his awareness was piqued. "Hmmm . . . ?" Aydan weakly muttered in a half dazed state. Underneath the sand, something moved, and his hand limply emerged, sensing the wind. This piqued his awareness even more. Half buried now, Aydan shifted, feeling his entire body ache in agony. He moaned in pain, and in doing so tore the dry calluses on his lips, sending shearing impulses of torture through his entire body. He finally managed to prop himself upwards on one hand and sat up, his body muffled in small particles of sand. He remained still, trying to sense something, anything, but could not. It frightened him, more than he expected it to. Gently, he tried to open his eyes, brushing caked sand away from his face, carefully freeing his eyelashes. He peeked every now and then, and seeing and hearing nothing began to push his anxious mind to bridge the gap between unease and terror, forcing him to become frantic in his effort to discover what universe he had fallen into. As his eyes opened, he saw the red haze of an emerging dusk color in an unmistakable gradient along the sand in front of him. The sun, as if staring directly at him but gentle enough to receive a stare back, was right in front of him, flat against the horizon in perfect proportion to the world. Aydan stared, his body hunched, and was entranced. Something was happening to him, and he could not determine what it was. A rush of emotion is how he described it to himself, too fast to be interrupted. As if insanity and reality had collided to create an absolutely pivotal moment where the universe was bending in some strange manner to kiss him. He looked to the side and saw a leg in the sand, connected to something that was now buried by the world, and knew it belonged to his perished friend. He began to cry, for he found it to be the most beautiful and vulgar thing he had ever seen. Samaye was in darkness, gone forever with unrequited hope, yet this color upon his leg, upon the sand, and even upon Aydan, provided by the sun, kissed it all. Aydan raised his hand at the sun, trying to feel the thickness of his feeling, but felt nothing. He stared at the orange fire, and as it began to hide under the horizon, so too did he begin to feel alone and empty. It was as if the presence of the sun introduced noise to the environment, and though this was not the case, as it vanished, Aydan felt scared at the silence he found himself drenched in. He saw Samaye's leg once again, this time void of color or light, but simply lying there, unmoving, horrific in its suggestion of what lay connected to it. It was not an object but a sign of something more terrible, some beauty lost but not simply missing now and forever, but rather defiled and broken by the world. His dazed thoughts were disconnected, and though he contemplated how distraught he was, he simply did not have the capacity to dwell on it. The sun was gone, and whatever magnificent feeling had emerged when he awoke went with it, replaced by the real world, one he seemed to collide with in what seemed to be only unpleasant manners. "Samaye . . ." he whispered as tears filled his eyes. He leaned down backwards, resting his back against the ground as if lying in bed, preparing to die. He was filled with anguish at that moment, with nothing but thoughts of failure and betrayal and the woe of witnessing the loss of the soft creature that lay beside him. He had never experienced a hopelessness that had no exits and though, for a moment, he regretted leaving the cave, as he felt the cool sand under his palms, he became suddenly assured that though it ended as it did, it was eventuated in freedom.

~~~

What is it that makes one man accept, yet another man strives beyond that which he was borne into? Robin Murarka presents an epic fantasy world in which to explore that one question... But is there even an answer? For how can we know what we want until we are born and then come to a specific life following that of his father, while at the same time choosing to roam free, gaining strength from those walks out into the wilderness--the land surrounding him... Ayden was such a man. While his father and he were working in fields, Ayden day dreamed of far lands... And then, he had a dream! And, in that dream he learned that it was he who chose what was to be... and he had indeed chosen! Although not really understanding...

In a place with names that you will not recognize, you will find that, even in a different land, there are things that make men fear--they didn't know about Demons, perhaps... But never being sure because it was only feelings, thoughts, worries that had led to their living with those who would accept their life as the only reality...

Ayden had dreams--visions. But his father, fearing that others would hear of his son, would explain them away as just nightmares of a time in a different place than where they lived... But Ayden would watch what was happening in his village and question the actions of people who saw things differently, perhaps just from their own experiences, such as a deaf man who could not hear when a young girl asked him for water, she spoke louder and louder until it was noticeable that the wellman had not heard her and then that man was removed from his position to determine whether he was possessed or could be healed... and he was placed in a central pit in the village, where their god Vespa would decide his future... Ayden watched as he was in the pit, hoping that the man would look up and see some of his encouragement, his concern for the man... I saw a great parallel of this town and daily life before religions had been formed and, then, as to the early life of Jesus here on earth...

For there were also men of high rank and power... And they lived by the old rules and spoke of danger, their gods' wrath and people were afraid, often not knowing from day to day what would be happening. Soon, Ayden awoke, with a deep sharp smell that he could not place. Where was he? And as he listened and felt around, he realized he was in the dark, and discovered he was locked there. Getting just a small portion of food that was almost spoiled. What had occurred? All that he knew was that others were in the same location and that at certain times, he could hear screaming, or cries of pain nearby. And at night, he listened and could hear a man weeping in the next cage and Ayden called out to him, figuring that they wouldn't have nearby guards to hear... And soon, Ayden knew and would call to him: "Samaye . . . is that you, Samaye?" "It is pronounced Soo-ma-ya in Tphetria, Samaye responded...: And, so, two men were no longer alone and grew stronger in knowing that they had a friend, even a brother as they talked and learned of the other. 

"Hear . . . what, brother?" "My heart, Samaye . . . it aches with pain, not for my or your fate, but for the forgotten and pained dal my defa brought. I rejected it, and I am sure it hurts where it sits now. I see it wrapped in cloth, sitting alone, and my father stares at it, woe and sadness filling him for its unfulfilled purpose." Samaye smiled. "You are a very cruel man, Aydan, to have hurt such a sensitive dal." "Yes!" Aydan yelled. "Yes, that is correct. That is exactly what I am trying to say to you. Both you and I are bathed in horror, yet my mind focuses on his back and his hurt face and most importantly, his sensitive dal . . . what a strange, twisted state of being I am in, Samaye." "We often do not control what our hearts tell us, Akin . . . though we sense when we are being deceived . . . as you are right now. Yes?" "Most certainly," Aydan replied. "I am being deceived right now, my brother. And my birth giver is the deceiver. What roots he has implanted in my mind, to be able to cause me to suffer grief for him whilst I await the adoration of a cruel blade." He was silent then, unaware of whether his eyes were open or closed, nothing but darkness and Samaye's voice representing all there was in the universe. He became serious, suddenly, and closed his eyes, pensively thinking. He imagined Bethelhurst's face and the ghostly mask of the Fayem. He imagined the interior of the cave and reached up to feel his still sore head wound. As he touched it, he grimaced, and then began to cry silently. He did not open his eyes, however, and still imagined his father's face. The failure of his communication was beyond him; he began to accept that it would have failed no matter what he had said or done, and that all the intricate planning he had analyzed earlier that day was the result of his naive perspective of those he held close to him. "Akin?" Samaye called out. Aydan was silent for a moment, and then responded. "Yes, Samaye." "I am your brother, and I trust you," Samaye replied. Aydan began to cry further, as if Samaye's words pierced all that he had perceived his real Kunda to represent to him. He felt tragic as woe consumed him amidst feeling overwhelmed with pure grief at the unspeakable betrayal that Bethelhurst had committed. "You know, Samaye . . ." Aydan spoke in between calm but teary breaths, "it is not his refusal to acquiesce to my plan that hurts me. It is an old pain that has awoken in me, spurred by the graveness of this situation and how unflinchingly unheard I am by his heart." He continued. "Even in this place, whether it be naive or simplistic, there can be nothing wrong with the pleasure my heart seeks in sharing the taste of salts with you. That this is of priority to me, that you share in the uplifting feeling such a sensation may bestow upon you, from a hole in the middle of the earth . . ." He began to cry deeply. "That this that comes from my heart is made to be questioned or despised, criticized in any manner, is blasphemy. It is . . . a terrifying event . . . unholy. And this bastard father of mine, he oozes nothing but malice towards what my heart seeks to attain." Samaye placed his hands against his door and leaned his head against it, listening to Aydan. "There can be nothing wrong with pure intent, akin," he said. Aydan heard him, thought, then nodded. "There can be nothing wrong with pure intent." Aydan began to repeat it over and over. "There can be nothing wrong with pure intent. "There can be nothing wrong with pure intent." He began to speak louder, his tears stopping, his fists beginning to clench. "There can be nothing wrong with pure intent!" He hit his door with the side of his fist and paused. He took a deep breath in and began to scream. "There can be nothing wrong with my intent!!!" He banged the door hard and took a position at the rear of his hole, pressing his back against the wall opposite. He placed his feet square against the wooden barrier and took a deep breath in. "Do you hear me, Samaye?" He bent his knees back and struck down hard against it, causing the door to shake and echo through the cave. "Kick your door, Samaye! Kick it!" Samaye felt around his door and did not fully understand what Aydan meant until he heard another loud thud as Aydan's feet landed upon it again. He sat in the middle of his hole and kicked his door. It pushed him backwards, towards the wall behind him, which he then pressed his back against. He twisted his body as he felt his wound touch the rock, using his hands for leverage. "Kick it, Samaye!" Aydan slammed his feet against it, over and over, the soles of his feet becoming sore and pained. Samaye began to kick as well, taking longer with each kick but pressing as hard as he could. "You bastard liar," Aydan whispered. He imagined his father's face and thought about his claim to Aydan as a son. "Bastard!" he screamed as he kicked his door as hard as he could, hearing the wooden fibers tear from the inside. He could not feel his feet though he knew the abuses they were now suffering would cause him anguish for some time to come. "Kick your door, Samaye! We are free if you will it with me!" He began to kick his door quicker now, and still harder, gathering a motion in between breaths. Samaye maintained his speed and also began to hear his door buckle as he slammed his feet against it. "Kick!!!" Aydan's door began to stretch, and with every kick more and more fibers tore. He could feel it giving way to his pressure, enticing him to kick even harder. "Break, you son of a whore! Break!" Outside the cave, Maki slept, curled up on both his feet, like a bird. He rested his head on his hands, which rested on his shoulder as he stood, perched, his knees bent fully, perfectly balanced in a deep sleep. The loud thuds from within the cave were only murmurs outside; yet the alien sounds began to prick at his sleeping mind, and it started taking notice of them. Aydan touched the bottom of his feet and felt open wounds, torn from the door. He then heard a loud crack as Samaye's door gave in, breaking in half. Samaye screamed in agony, immediately. "What, Samaye? Have you broken through?" "Akin . . . my leg is caught on the rupture in the door. I cannot move, but it is open. It is open, brother. We are free . . ." Aydan naturally began to secrete tears as the urgency behind his kicks increased double fold. "I am coming, Samaye. I am coming!" He kicked and kicked, becoming angry and desperate as it seemed fiber after fiber tore but still did not collapse the door. Soon, however, a piece broke off, and he kicked around it, making the hole bigger and bigger, soon causing almost half the door to lay in tatters outside his cell. He immediately patted the floor cautiously and began to walk on all fours, navigating outside of his cell carefully. "Speak, brother! Speak so that I can find you!" "I am here, akin . . . come . . . here . . . my leg is caught in the door . . ." Aydan crawled quickly to Samaye's cell and touched his leg, for the first time feeling his warm flesh. It brought tears to his eyes, and he held onto his foot for an instant, then kissed it. "I am here, brother." Samaye began to weep as well, feeling the lucid warmth of Aydan's face against his skin. Aydan felt around Samaye's leg, examining the positioning of the door. He created a visual imprint of the positioning of the sharp fibers and tore away, piece by piece, anything surrounding Samaye's leg. "I am going to lift your leg now, and it will hurt." Samaye held his breath as Aydan took hold of his ankle and pulled it upwards, withdrawing sharp slivers from Samaye's leg. Samaye clenched his voice and grunted, trying to keep hold of the searing pain. Aydan slowly moved his leg to the side and placed it down. He moved into Samaye's cell and found his hand, taking hold of it, pausing for an instant. He caught his breath as he grasped tightly at Samaye. "Are you ready, brother?" he asked after a few moments. Samaye clenched his friend's fist in acknowledgment. Aydan wrapped his arm around the back of Samaye and began to prop him up, out of the cell, making Samaye lean on him. Just as they stood, they paused, suddenly. Aydan whispered into Samaye's ear. "Quiet, brother. Something has moved." They stood completely silent in the darkness and began to hear a slight shuffling in the cave with them. Aydan looked about, squinting, trying to catch a glimpse of something but could see nothing. Samaye was becoming faint for his exhaustion and loss of blood but held onto Aydan for support. Aydan leaned Samaye against the wall noiselessly and squeezed his hand, letting go. He spread his arms out in the darkness, stepping very quietly, trying to catch whatever it was that moved. Suddenly, something jumped out and grabbed him, biting his arm. Aydan began to slam his fist down on it over and over, trying to get it to release him. It pulled him to the ground and climbed on him, hitting his head. "Naga! Naga! Naga, naga!" the creature yelled. Aydan immediately recognized the voice of Maki and became furious. He reached back and punched Maki's face both fast and hard, causing him to fly back and hit his head against the rock in the center of the cave. Aydan scrambled on all fours, and like an animal ran to Maki and began hitting him. He took his head and slammed it against the rock repeatedly. "Die!!!" he screamed. He soon stopped, feeling the motionless body of Maki, dropping his head against the ground. Aydan sat there, his hands drenched in blood, and began to cry. "Akin . . . akin . . ." Aydan heard Samaye's voice, and as if awoken by it, wiped his face with his arm and stood up slowly, walking cautiously in the darkness towards his friend. He wrapped his hand around his back and kissed the side of his face, then suddenly hugged him. Samaye hugged him back, and they both limped out of the cave, following the feel of the wall.

~~~

And soon they were growing stronger, even though their bodies remained weak from hunger, for they had...togetherness... And Adken soon began to wonder whether they could escape. And they began to plot the possibility. And succeeded! But Samaye was hurt during their escape and even though they were able to get away, Samaye grew weaker and weaker and finally died. And Adken could not accept his death and stayed there with him until he had to finally bury his brother... And so Adken was to travel on alone. But Samaye had called his brother Akin as they had talked and Adken had accepted Akin as his new name...

Samaye's face was the last to fade, and Aydan paused, kissing his cheek, before covering him up entirely. As he placed sand over Samaye's eyes, he felt a hollowness within himself. It was as if up to that point, he had still believed that Samaye might have opened his eyes at any moment. But once his face was covered and no movement, no excitement or disruption ensued, though Aydan both expected and waited for it, he sat in silence, subtly disappointed. He remained beside the grave and closed his eyes. He took a sip of water and froze sternly in place. "I reject all that was and is. I am returning you to the earth, my friend. "I will carry you with me. "I reject all that was and is. I am re-born." He placed his hand on the sand, over Samaye's buried face. He began to cry. "I will carry you with me, brother." He sat for a few moments longer, then arose and looked at the horizon. He tore fragments of Samaye's tunic off, wrapping them around his feet. He wrapped the rest of Samaye's blood stained cloth over his head, covering his neck, and began a trek away from the rising sun. He took one final look at the lump in the sand and proceeded to move forward, a dismal mood coating his face. He carried the bladder strapped over his shoulder and walked in steady steps. He was used to treading the desert and naturally knew how to maximize his distance with the energy he had. He traveled away from the sun, hoping that he would stumble upon some alien township or village, one that had no knowledge of him or the Aizik. He would present himself as a traveler and hoped it would be well met. His hunger pains came and went, and he tried not to think about food. He was in a precarious mood, concentrating on his diminishing water supply and each step he took. He knew his energies would eventually end, and so every step was a direct investment to his survival, survival being the last thing his friend had silently urged him to pursue. Desert crossings were practiced exercises. One had to keep themselves occupied in thought, unfocused at the heat or pain, continuing to persist in order to succeed. Aydan found thoughts easily, as there was much to think about. He pondered Samaye's body and felt resolved knowing it was truly loved as it was left. It seemed placed, Samaye's death, for he was not one for this world. His simplicity of thought was superior to those around him, yet his perpetual confusion would have cursed him till the day he died. But even as he thought this, he pondered the life they could have led, exiting the desert together, living as brothers, finding loved ones and forever supporting one another in their endeavors. It was the laughter that hurt the deepest . . . all the laughter they would no longer share, and it made his heart sink. "Now is the perfect time to grieve," he thought. "All the grief in the world will fuel my steps and make the passing sands blink." "But grief . . ." he thought as he felt it surge through him like knives. "It cannot be simply quantified, though I wish it could." He paused for a moment, wondering if Samaye had just been sleeping, considering turning back. He turned around to assess the situation and saw nothing but a sea of yellow. He resumed walking. "Soo-ma-ya," he whispered. "How I would repeat it a thousand times if you would awaken, my friend."

~~~ 

As we learn more about Akin, we learn that he was a special man, hearing voices, questioning all that he was facing, knowing that he must continue on, not knowing where, but knowing he had to keep moving forward... With no water no food, they had moved further away from where they had been captured and held... Only one thing kept them, and then, just Akin, moving... There was no choice. Sitting down and sleeping was just...not...an...option...

Readers, this is an epic story, one that demands you spend time with it from the very beginning. The writing is extraordinary, moving from poetic fluency into cries of hate and fury as the characters come in and out of this lengthy heroic effort to find life at its very core of both sorrow and majesty! How can this occur, you ask? I don't know; I really don't. Yet the words haunt me. Knowing that somewhere in a desert of sand there is one body of a man who died searching for freedom, buried by an adopted brother who cried together to the very end...  While finding in another area that another man reaches out, opens his home and shelter to a stranger whose own life will be changed by that new openness and awareness of agape love for one another. To me, this story represents all that we who open our minds and hearts to love one another can become... We will learn to turn away from anger and hate and allow the words of caring, concern, empathy, sympathy, to control where our own future lies... and... become...brothers and sisters...May it come soon...

If you have been seeking guidance about turning away from the hate, the violence and fear of retribution that seems to permeate many of our people, you may find the strength you need to start questioning in this book... But, do read it with an open heart and mind, for that is the place where Adken started while he later became Akin... Thank you Robin Murarka for seeking me out and telling me about this book! It is one that will be remembered for many, many reasons! Added as a personal favorite for me! Do check it out!

The Sumati people celebrated the festival with far more zest than his village did. Even when he was a street dweller, the day of Jamali would bring everyone together as the rich commonly joked with the poor, and all interacted more or less as equals, even if only facetiously. Akin and Jarvis smiled at each other but talked very little as they left the house, traveling down the winding path to the maza. Already in the distance they could see and hear screaming and music as people hammered on drums and sang, throwing water upon each other. The main festivities always surrounded the temple, and every edge of it was filled with celebration. Large groups of people stood, holding each other, singing anthems in unison. Abruptly, it would be interrupted by someone throwing a huge vat of water on the singers who then sought playful revenge. The river was constantly used, from morning till nightfall, on the day of Jamali. After stored water was exhausted, people would travel to the river with their buckets and vats, in arms, refueling for more jovial mischief. When they arrived, the festival was in full swing. People, both men and women, were running about, drenched, laughing and screaming. The dashas were filled with patrons as prices were cheap to accommodate the festivities, and in the jovial spirit of the city, many traders gave away free beer and food. Children scurried about everywhere, laughing and playing. It was different here than anywhere else Akin had been. The lines between classes were shattered, and both men and women interacted with each other in what seemed a childlike furor of glee. The day was sacred to the citizens of Sumat, not so much anymore for the religious meaning, Akin thought, but because it provided them relief from the stringent restrictions of everyday life. Even he was filled with emotional joy as he watched people genuinely laugh and smile, though he felt uncomfortable at the sudden arbitrary change that he feared would eventually regress. The main feature of the festival was to begin soon, and people had already gathered all around the maza to watch the Manu priests. Akin and Jarvis joined in the fray and stood arm in arm with random strangers, joining in the singing, letting the contagious euphoria carry them along. As the people sang in imperfect unison, Akin was again surprised at how loud it was. Every time Jamali came to Sumat, Akin felt it was louder than anything he had ever witnessed before. Their voices resonated so thunderously, in fact, it felt as though the temple itself would collapse. People still ran about, playing with each other, and it was as if the singing gave them the peace of mind that the day would never end, that they could run about, drink and eat, with no worries of tomorrow. Still, it was evident that some people had segregated themselves from others, isolating their brethren in certain areas and not participating in the same gallantry. It was not entirely strange, as there were always those who chose to profit from or take advantage of others during the festival, but this time it was an uncomfortable stalemate directed at members of the other Kunda. Both Sumai and Mashaya middlemen remained controlled and collected in their respective camps, prepared to retaliate in the case of any breach. The rest of the people appeared unfazed, however, regardless of their loyalties, as it was highly taboo to initiate violence on the day of Jamali, and far more preferable to the average man to just ignore their concerns in favor of celebration. Even the leaders of each Kunda participated, albeit in a more subdued manner, while their immediate underlings stood watch. The Manu priests soon emerged in their blue robes, wrapped from head to toe, showing only their eyes, causing the entire maza to quickly silence. They were beautiful draperies: one long, dark-blue cloth that was wrapped over and over, covering their bodies entirely. They walked slowly and deliberately down the steps as the temple servants carried huge containers of bread and vegetables. Other servants proceeded with torches and burning herbs, leaving tantalizing aromas in their wake. The priests' robes were cleaned twice a day while they bathed and replaced in their entirety a few times a year. As a result, they always maintained the same color and thick appearance which matched every other priest. The Manu never left the temple except for religious processions, and it was as enticing for the people of Sumat to see these mysterious beings as it was to receive the bountiful offerings that the servants threw into the crowds. All that was visible of the priests were their eyes as they quietly stepped in perfect unison with each other. As they reached the end of the temple steps and touched the maza, some people began to scream and cry, many dropping to their knees in worship, kissing the ground beneath them. The temple itself had always stood in the center of the city, the central focus of it, and the priests were its masters. They were representatives of something powerful and mysterious to the common Sumati which made their presence something like a surreal, waking dream. That they only made one round of the temple corners made the madness even worse as people tried to absorb as much as they could in the brief moments they had. Akin and Jarvis mostly remained unaffected by the presence of the Manu. Although Jarvis watched with the same casual nature he always had, Akin had more disdain in his perspective as he watched people wail in despair when they neared the priests. He watched women and men cry, holding their hands together, begging for forgiveness and blessings. They kissed the ground upon where the priests had walked and smothered their faces in it, even to the point of bleeding. As the priests walked, many people attempted to follow them, pushing through the observing crowd to circulate at the same speed. The mania was intense as people nudged against one another, trying to get to the front and move in time with the procession. It was expected, and adults were able to mostly cope with it. Children, however, were often trampled upon, and Akin could hear screaming and crying from distant parts of the crowd as the more stimulated patrons maniacally shoved through like a force of nature. As the priests re-emerged in front of the steps, they faced away from the temple and stood in place. From the top of the stairs and within the temple emerged servants dragging along four men who had been severely beaten. Their feet dragged against the steps painting streaks of red along them as they bled out, and upon reaching the bottom of the stairs were thrown to the ground, in a pile, in front of the priests and the crowd. Suddenly, a thunderous voice emerged from atop the steps as did a number of other voices all around the maza. As Akin looked up, he saw an Iman Ir screaming at the crowd, his body flared. "People of Sumat!" he screamed. Akin could vaguely hear the other voices repeating similar phrases in different places. "You asked for justice, and justice is given! My Oam has bestowed a gift upon you, the culprits of murder!"

Lord, Will We Ever Turn Hate Into Love for our Neighbors???

GABixlerReviews

What's Happening at Book Readers Heaven - The Personal and Professional...

 

Time goes by so fast these days, especially when things happen in your own life that needs to be addressed, so I've been busy and not able to sit down to share here on my blog with all of you. But that never means that I am not reading! LOL One of the books that I've been reading is Tim Spiess' The Light of the World. One of the things that this author discovered in his research is that the better translation of the name of Jesus was actually Joshua. And, so, he has used this name as he presents what is essentially the first four books of the New Testament, along with commentary. I've found that, in reading, having a new and different name for The Son of Man has brought my mind into a deeper and clearer reading--as if I'd never read or heard the words before. It is an important book, one of the most important books I, and maybe you, too, will have read in our lives... And so, I've been reading this book daily while going about all that is happening... New and different health related issues...

It all started when I was on my way to get my hair cut. I had chipped one of my front teeth and was concerned whether it could be fixed. So I stopped at my dentist who was located nearby. I walked in and there was nobody there that I recognized! I stopped at the reception desk, told the individual what I needed and she assured me that it could be fixed, so I asked to schedule an appointment. As I recall, I was told that it would be with a new dentist, that my dentist was retiring or had retired already and that I would have to change sooner or later... Hmmm... I scheduled an appointment, knowing that the tooth needed to be fixed...

When the day came I walked in and there were people standing around in the background, more than I'd ever seen there. I sat down to wait and started reading new signs posted. One was about cancellations and being charged. The other said that I could not use a credit or debit card that only cash or personal check was to be used for payment. That hit me the wrong way, of course. I rarely carry a lot of money and had been using my debit card for years at all companies with which I've interacted. I was upset right from the beginning.

I was called and told to turn to the right--there had been three stalls in the office before. all to the left. So I walked in and glanced around. The furniture was all new and I immediately worried about being able to get down/up on the dental chair. I stood there and then said that I had been using a debit or credit card for over 10 years and was upset this had changed. Before I could stop myself I looked around the office again taking in the new people I'd never even seen before and had not introduced themselves to me, and said, "I'm not interested in all this..." And walked out! As I write this now, I'm smiling... Because I went home, did a search for a woman dentist in the area, and have found a wonderful new dentist! Her name is Dr. Sharon Stokes and if you're in the Uniontown, PA area, I would highly recommend her to you...

Since then I've had two appointments with her, my chipped tooth looks better than it did before it was chipped! But not everything was so easily addressed. I've had surgery and had a small section of skin cancer removed and now recuperating from that, while at the same time, I got word that my mammogram was not clear and I'd have to go back for another test plus a sonogram...

Also had a scare of possible allergy to medication and was taken to the emergency room, but it was quickly addressed and I got better directions on the use of the medication. I also decided against having a knee replacement and cancelled that appointment.

So I've been busy handling health issues at the same time trying to work my way through working with big communication corporations that fail in providing effective communication! I have come to the conclusion that efficiency has disappeared, while, hidden fees and lack of access is the new world... Tell me, how in the world can you get emails and not be able to respond to those emails?!!! Have you had that experience?! You know the ones, that, if you respond, you quickly get a new email that the first email was not able to receive responses!!! It boggles the mind, doesn't it!

Speaking of boggling my mind? It's now been over 4 months since I've been locked out of Facebook "for my protection." I've tracked down some of my friends and found that my group, Reviewers Roundup, just disappeared, as well as, of course...Me... Finally found another person on GoodReads that had the same experience. He is an author and is online only to promote his books... He kept after them, however, and learned that a foreign entity had signed on and used his (my?) accounts for their own purposes... I recognize that these are private sites, but, on the other hand, they've opened sites for people to use... No wonder people are so terribly confused these days.

We are being lied to left and right. Worse, it is coming from a significant part of America, who are looking to tear down our Democracy... Are you able to keep track and know for sure that what you are hearing on television ads are true--or lies? Some have been really disgusting and obvious. But others are slid in with enough actual information, that when the lie is presented, it just sounds like normal discussion; but, lies are slid in... Don't know what I mean? Find the vice-presidential debate and listen to one of the latest and slickest republicans. He is a man who speaks fluently and if we didn't already know the truth, we wouldn't be able to even catch the lies being said. Fortunately Tim Walz caught him on the most important... The Big Lie, and Vance would not say who won the 2020 election! Right then, every single individual listening to that debate should have realized that what he'd said earlier was also false... Especially when he declared me and thousands and possibly millions of other women when he claimed that the United States was run by childless cat comen! And that we had no value to the world... Geesh! how crude can he be?!

Which leads us back to The Light of the World...

“I am the truth”, and they say, “the book and all these other voices which quote the book are “the truth” you need to be set free, not just the one who says, “I am the Truth” … not just the one who says, “If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed”… If this happened, then isn’t the truth of the statements above by the one who says, “I am the truth”, LOST as the people look to the book and other’s words and other voices, and those other words and voice’s nullify, cancel or make of no effect the one who says: “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life…”, and “All who are of the truth listen to MY voice.” ? If this is so, then is it not true that those eternally valuable truths… “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life, and no one gets to the Father except through me.” "If you continue in My word, then you are truly disciples of Mine; and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." …have been drowned out … buried … LOST. And so, that which is extremely valuable - and which has been lost - has been revealed.  The Creator/Father sent One beloved, error-free Messenger who can bring freedom from your hopelessness, confusion, bondage or pain, but his voice has been drowned out, nullified, hidden, obscured, spoken over, made-of-no-effect, ignored… Lost. It is a difficult truth to receive, but in truth, the teachings of the One who calls himself the Light of the world have been covered, buried and for all practical purposes, lost.   His Voice has been drowned out by thousands of other voices.  In fact, at the most essential level...

Why is it that so very few are concerned about focusing whole-heartedly on Jesus and his person and his teachings ONLY?  Perhaps, just perhaps, these things are true… "This is the judgment, that the Light has come into the world, and men loved the darkness rather than the Light, for their deeds were evil.” "But because I speak the truth, you do not believe me.” Maybe the truth is that the one Voice that brings freedom, offends the vast majority (especially the religious people who

 

claim him as their ‘Lord’ and ‘God’), and they do not want to let his simple and uncompromised truth shine forth?  Perhaps most christians/biblians are especially loath to turn to the Light because they very much like believing they are “saved” and “heaven bound” while they continue to ignore the real Light of the world and instead live the way they want? …beware of the all too common self-justification and self-deception of, ‘oh yes, that is true, but not of ME or MY church’… This commentator hopes that those who are in the darkness of bible and christian religion will allow the Light of the world to shine on their hearts.  Seek to understand this key saying of his… "He who loves his life loses it, and he who hates his life in this world will keep it to life eternal.” …and then, please, come, follow HIM!

In 2015/16 we first heard about the Evangelical Christians supporting a man like Donald Trump as president. Especially since it was not by the popular vote but by the Electoral College. At the same time, many of us questioned what could cause this type of decision. For me, I immediately started my research, reading as many books as I could, to determine why I, as a Christian, had turned away from a man who I considered unfit for leading our America. More and more is being discovered that the Truth was withheld... The latest, this morning I learned from Senator Whitehouse's, a congressional study report, that the Trump Administration had prevented the FBI from actually vetting now sitting Supreme Court Judge Kavanaugh! Many will recall that a woman came forth, testifying about his attack of her years ago, and then another... 

Another bombshell is one particular excerpt from the latest book by Bob Woodward during the time of Covid. I've ordered this book, which will be out on October 15th... Essentially, it was revealed that, while America was struggling to find tests and other items related to the pandemic, and hundreds and thousands had started to die, Trump shipped these items to Dictator Putin!

I and everybody else has lied in their lives... We normally call them "White Lies" and often do it to keep from hurting another individual... But, it is clear from The Light of the World, that we all should strive to follow The Son of God/Man and know that God is TRUTH! Only one human did not lie. The Son of God... We who are Christians must strive toward that perfection of TRUTH! And, to point out those who are using Lies to gain power, at the same time they are hurting the millions affected by those lies by the past president and his political party members... And authoritarian dictators across the world...Many have turned away from TRUTH--turned away from God-- during this period of chaos. Yet, I believe God already had sent President Biden and now Kamala Harris to continue the path toward TRUTH in America... When Jesus was still young and traveling around sharing and healing the sick and hungry, he chose to give His message to all people who thirst for More...He told us to turn to Love... Truth... to Love God first and to Love our Neighbors... To turn away from those who spoke of power and hate. It's still the same story. We must choose to turn toward the Light rather than the darkness. Choose who wants only one thing of us. Love Our Neighbors. Do Good to those that persecute you. Speak Truth!

God Bless Us All!

Gabby

Now Reading: The Light of the World: The Life and Teachings of Jesus of Nazareth

 

Two night ago, I woke up in the middle of the night and heard one word. Speiss. That's all I really needed because I knew what I was to do... I've read enough books about how religion has infiltrated into politics and all that entails. Now, I needed to move on from those and talk about Jesus. He Loves His Children, You Know... And, His Love Is Greater Than Any Other Who You May Care to Love... I've been in Peace since the time I got another message: I've Got This Glenda...

I believe that what is happening right now in America is God's Plan. He has been watching how so many people are being hurt, murdered, and even rejected because of who they are. Those who are not white. Those who are not from one specific political party. Those who have chosen power, hate, and violence, over Love... The Love that Jesus asked us to receive from Him. A Love that would allow us to both love God and love our neighbors as well... In yesterday's review, I pointed out that Jesus didn't say Love All--but these people... This book that I began to read the same night that I heard the author's name, includes commentary by the author. What he is suggesting is something that, to a lesser extent, I had known and recognized for many years...

Jesus gave us a new Life In HIM. He died for US! ALL of US... For most of my life I've been a person who asks WHY. Since 2016, I've been asking WHY some chose to follow the former president, while at the same time saying that He was chosen... Now, I do believe that God does choose people. I'm One of Them... But, there are MILLIONS who also are chosen of God, through His Son. He extended a Hand to those of us who would be living on His Planet named Earth and even at one point Sent His Son!!! To Die For US! And then, He returned to His Father, but He left His Spirit within each of us... All we had to do is open our heart and mind to hear His ongoing Message...

But just like those who chose Barabbas over two thousand years ago, to live, many have never actually listened to the words of Jesus, allowing them to be learned and remembered in our minds... Those who were left after Jesus went back to be with His Father, continued doing exactly what they had always done?!? Why? Why had they chosen Barabbas to live rather than Jesus? If you think very hard, without allowing your own opinions and life fog up your thinking, you may remember what Jesus Himself taught... Jesus was not on Earth to establish a rich kingdom where we could worship Him rather than God Almighty. The Great I AM!

Jesus told us not to worry about our lives, that He would provide, just as he did with the birds and all of creation. He told us that riches here on earth was not important, even that we should give up all that we owned to enter His Kingdom. Yet, how many place money, riches, all that make us popular and a leader here on earth... Even though it is worthless if we do not Love... Many have been given riches and used to help others here on earth... Jimmy Carter comes to mind as one of our politicians who gave part of his life in service to our nation. And, when he was not reelected, he simply continued to serve people all over the world. Truly He had been called by God... I remember a lady, wife of a pastor, at a church I attended half a life ago, who literally beamed Love. Her husband had died and she had continued her Love for all God's children as long as she lived as well... We didn't have to wonder--His Love flowed outward to anybody within her presence... Not all are called to be such outward servants of God... But when I asked my foot doctor to pray for me at my side when he was operating on me, He did that. I heard him respond to a question that, yes, I had asked for his prayer and he did as I asked, but added that he prayed in advance before all of his surgeries... I remember one of the thousands of writers I have known in my life. I've told this story before... His Name is Harold Michael Harvey, a Black lawyer whose books I'd read and had the chance to talk with him on social sites. One time I was needing prayer and I asked him to pray for me...He immediately began! I'm sure I could go on...just as many of you could... I don't possess that outward show of love as many people do... I'm a Listener, though, and when God needs somebody to listen and share His words, I'm one of those people, ready and waiting to pass on His Call to Love!

Do you Speak Jesus? What gift do you have that God asked you to use? I believe the author of The Light of the World was given a very important job. He was to be specific and open to tell the world that their continued use of rules, commandments, even some prayers were nothing unless we Loved our Neighbors.  My guess is that he has been criticized, turned away from and, yet, he continued to write the book as He was directed. It is up to you whether you read his book, which includes his commentary... Or, just start to read the first four chapters of The New Testament... Or, saying it another way... Read the Words of Jesus Alone! After all, He died for us, after traveling the world at that time, spreading his love, demonstrating how we were to act toward others, and assuring us that He would provide a messenger for us to remain in contact with Him!

What I know is that there is joy, hope, and assurance crossing our nation these days. I've seen one candidate for our presidency speak about helping those of us who need help in so many ways... While the other speaks of violence, hate, and white supremacy... If you cannot see and know the difference, I urge you to talk to Jesus... And start Speaking Jesus... Here's a little of what you will be reading...and Hearing...

Recovering That Which Has Been Lost… 

To those who think they know “Jesus Christ,” the following illustrations will help you understand that which has been lost. Imagine you were kidnapped and put in a horrible place, and other than the kidnapper, there was only one person on the planet who knew where you were.  Fortunately, this person cared about you and although they were half way around the planet, they knew someone near you who could rescue you.  So, they wrote a message to the prospective rescuer, telling him exactly where you were and how you could be rescued.  They then mailed the message to the prospective rescuer.  The message arrived safely at the remote post office, however the post office employee only delivered mail to the rescuer occasionally. So, he took the letter and placed it in a large envelope with many other letters to the rescuer, and on the outside of that envelope was written, “Important Messages.”  By the time the rescue letter was delivered to the rescuer, it was just one note among many hundreds in the large envelope labeled, “Important Messages.”  Therefore, your note was ‘drowned’ in a sea of other people’s notes, and thus you had little hope of being free from your bondage any time soon, if at all.

Here is another illustration to help you understand what has been lost. Imagine you are stranded on a remote island with only one piece of paper, pen and bottle.  So you write a note to tell those who find the bottle where you are and your situation and you throw the bottle into the ocean.  The bottle finds a current which carries the bottle towards land, but there are thousands of other bottles in that current as well.  It seems there were many people who, while not desperately needing to be rescued like yourself, nevertheless greatly enjoyed putting messages in bottles and throwing them in the ocean.  Unfortunately for you, all those other bottles found their way to the same current which carried your bottle, and your bottle arrives at the beach with thousands of other  bottles containing ‘urgent’ (but pretend) messages. Thus, you have little hope of your message being found anytime soon, and little hope as well of getting free from the island. 

Perhaps the most accurate illustration of that which has been lost, would be as follows.  Let us say you wandered into a large and dangerous city and got yourself lost in a maze of streets, and you desperately need directions out of the city.  Let us say that a person who knows the way out of the dangerous city has clearly and concisely written the directions down in two sentences on a page of paper.  That person makes those clear directions available to any who request them and many groups and organizations of people take the directions and use them for their own purposes. In your case, the person you requested the directions from is a member of one of those organizations, and they felt they needed to add to the directions, even though they don’t know for certain the way out of the city because they have never been out of the city.  So they write, on a copy of the correct directions, their beliefs on how to get out of the city.  And so, when you are handed the one page document, the two sentences containing the way to freedom are surrounded by many sentences which contain errors and which at best confuse you and at worst, hide the truth in the two sentences of the way out of the dangerous city.  Thus, you don’t find your way out of the dangerous city because in your sincere efforts to read the directions, you get more and more lost due to the errors surrounding the facts. 

To continue that illustration, let us say that many people regularly get lost in the large and dangerous city, and so there is a regular need for clear directions out of the city.  However, the main authority of the city benefits economically from having more people in their city, even if some are lost and don’t want to be there.  The paper with the two sentences of clear directions becomes well known amongst the city dwellers, as well as the one page that contains both the two sentences of clear directions surrounded by the erroneous opinions of others.  The city authority wants to give to those people lost in their city, the confused one full page of ‘directions’ instead of the two clear sentences, since they gain city members and make more money that way.   So that authority formally makes a diligent practice of telling the people that the one page document is one-hundred percent truth and they ought to believe all that is written on that page.  They also tell the people that the page with the two clear sentences of correct directions is ‘inadequate and incomplete’ and people should not rely solely on that document or its instructions.  

Now, if a person looking to escape the city respects that authority-person more than wanting to know truth (correct directions), then what will happen to their ability to find their way out of the city?  Will it not be compromised at best, or destroyed at worst?  If disagreeing with the authority will have uncomfortable consequences, or even cost the person something they value, won’t they be in even a worse situation to find the truth buried in that one page? One final step to complete the illustration… 

In the same way, what if there is a book which contains sixty-six chapters, and only four of the sixty-six chapters contain what you need to be set free.  And what if an authority that many people respect including yourself, and who claims to know the book better than you, tells you that all sixty-six chapters contain the truth that you need to be set free.  And what if they tell you that the four chapters which contain what you need to be set free are “inadequate and insufficient” in-and-of themselves?  If you respect the authority more than wanting to know the truth, then what will happen to your ability to find the actual truth in the four chapters?  Will it not be compromised at best, or destroyed at worst?  And what if the cost of rejecting the authority’s beliefs about the book will mean you will be rejected by friends and family?  Perhaps you will pretend the dangerous city is not so bad after all?  Or perhaps you will believe that the dangerous city or places just like it, is all that is available on the earth?  Or perhaps you actually like some aspects of the dangerous city and thus you are not looking to be set free since you see no need to be? 

This brings us to that which is most valuable and has been lost. What if there was a man who said… “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life, and no one gets to the Father except through me.” …and… "If you continue in My word, then you are truly disciples of mine; and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." …and He performed many miracles including defeating death to prove what he said was true…

But other’s came along after he leaves and places his Words in a big book with many other people’s words and say, ‘this whole book is truth,’ not just the person who says, “I am the truth,” …and the religious authorities who like having authority over others say, ‘you need more than the red letters, you need the whole counsel of God’s Word, and you need us to understand it.’ 

…and as years, decades and centuries pass, the book is handed down from generation to generation, each generation before it saying that the whole book is the truth that people need.  And if a person can’t understand the book due to the errors and contradictions, the people’s religious leaders say, “well, you need us or christian leader so-and-so or bible scholar so-and-so to properly understand the book. And the religious leaders, whose authority the people respect, point people to the book as well as many other voices, both dead and living, in addition to the one who says, “I am the truth.” and they say, “the book and all these other voices which quote the book are “the truth” you need to be set free, not just the one who says, “I am the Truth.” 

Not just the one who says, “If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.”

If this happened, then isn’t the truth of the statements above by the one who says, “I am the truth,” LOST as the people look to the book and other’s words and other voices, and those other words and voice’s nullify, cancel or make of no effect the one who says: “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life…” and “All who are of the truth listen to MY voice.” ?

If this is so, then is it not true that those eternally valuable truths… “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life, and no one gets to the Father except through me.” "If you continue in My word, then you are truly disciples of Mine; and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." They have been drowned out … buried … LOST. 

And so, that which is extremely valuable - and which has been lost - has been revealed.  The Creator/Father sent One beloved, error-free Messenger who can bring freedom from your hopelessness, confusion, bondage or pain. But his voice has been drowned out, nullified, hidden, obscured, spoken over, made-of-no-effect, ignored… Lost. 

It is a difficult truth to receive, but in truth, the teachings of the One who calls himself the Light of the world have been covered, buried and for all practical purposes, lost.   His Voice has been drowned out by thousands of other voices.  In fact, at the most essential level, his Voice has been replaced by a book, ‘the Bible’, by a clever sleight-of-hand which says that the book IS (or accurately represents) His voice. His statement, “All who are of the truth listen to MY voice,” has been changed (and thus corrupted) to, ‘All who are of the truth listen to the bible’ with all its millions of words and its many contradictory concepts, accounts and teachings.  

Perhaps the reader has believed the lie that the bible has no contradictions?  Here are just a few of many:

“If I sharpen My flashing sword, And My hand takes hold on justice, I will render vengeance on My adversaries, And I will repay those who hate Me. ‘I will make My arrows drunk with blood, And My sword will devour flesh, With the blood of the slain and the captives, From the long-haired leaders of the enemy.’ “Rejoice, O nations, with His people; For He will avenge the blood of His servants, And will render vengeance on His adversaries, And will atone for His land and His people.” (Deut. 32:41-43) 

"There is none like the God of Jeshurun, Who rides the heavens to  your help, And through the skies in His majesty. “The eternal God is a dwelling place, And underneath are the everlasting arms; And He drove out the enemy from before you, And said, ‘Destroy!’ (Deut. 33:26-27) 

“Do I not hate those who hate You, O LORD? And do I not loathe those who rise up against you?  I hate them with the utmost hatred; they have become my enemies.”  (Psalms 139:21-22) Versus "You have heard that it was said, 'YOU SHALL LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOR and hate your enemy.' "But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven; for He causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. (Matthew 5:43-45) 

One can pretend there is no contradiction, but that only proves that one is NOT listening to the one who says, "I am the Truth."  

Paul’s teaching of all scripture being inspired by God has God inspiring Moses to bring violent vengeance on his enemies, and David to express his justified hatred for his enemies.  

Contrast that to the voice of truth which says, “Love your enemies.” 

And so, the time for the printing of this book is quite long overdue.  It should be curious to the reader that there are no similar books easily available given the thousands of books about “christ” and many dozens of bible versions available.  Why is it that so very few are concerned about focusing wholeheartedly on Jesus and his person and his teachings ONLY?  Perhaps, just perhaps, these things are true… 

"This is the judgment, that the Light has come into the world, and men loved the darkness rather than the Light, for their deeds were evil.” "But because I speak the truth, you do not believe me.” 

Maybe the truth is that the one Voice that brings freedom, offends the vast majority (especially the religious people who claim him as their ‘Lord’ and ‘God’), and they do not want to let His simple and uncompromised truth shine forth?  Perhaps most christians/biblians are especially loath to turn to the Light because they very much like believing they are “saved” and “heaven bound” while they continue to ignore the real Light of the world and instead live the way they want? 

…beware of the all too common self-justification and self-deception of, ‘oh yes, that is true, but not of ME or MY church’… 

This commentator hopes that those who are in the darkness of bible and christian religion will allow the Light of the world to shine on their hearts.  Seek to understand this key saying of His… 

"He who loves his life loses it, and he who hates his life in this world will keep it to life eternal.” 

…and then, please, come, follow HIM!

God Bless Us All

Gabby

Robyn Gigl Presents Nothing But The Truth - A Significant Addition to the Legal Thriller Genre And Personal Favorite for 2024!

 Peg took a sip of her coffee. “Wow! Were you such a feminist before you transitioned?” Erin grinned. “I wish I could say yes, but probably not. As they say, ‘Perception is reality.’ ”

November 20, 2009 THE CANDLES ON THE ALTAR FLICKERED, THROWING STRANGE SHADOWS across the enormous stained-glass windows that rose up to the vaulted roof of the chapel. Erin McCabe stood among a group of people she had come to know over the last five years. Their journeys were all very different, but they were compatriots nonetheless, joined by a common thread. A thread that also knitted them to the names being solemnly read to the fifty or so people gathered in the pews near the front of the chapel. “From the United States—Caprice Curry, age thirty-one; Jimmy McCollough, age thirty-four; Foxy Ivy, age twenty-five; Kelly Watson, no age; Eric ‘Beyoncé’ Lee, age twenty-one; Paulina Ibarra, age twenty-four; Mariah Qualis, age twenty-one; Carson Stevenson, age forty-seven; Jacqueline Ford, age sixty . . .” As each name was read, it was displayed on a large screen. Each name a life lost, most of them young, most women of color, all of them killed in the last twelve months because they were transgender, nonbinary, or gender nonconforming. Tears rolled from the corners of Erin’s eyes. This was her third year attending the International Transgender Day of Remembrance at the Princeton Chapel, and each year was harder than the previous one, as the list of names grew longer every year. Tonight, she and her companions took turns reading each of the 163 names of the people lost. After the last name was read, they slowly returned to the pews and took their seats among the others in attendance. When they were seated, a Unitarian Universalist minister slowly climbed up to the pulpit and offered a moving prayer about love, compassion, and acceptance. When the minister finished, a singer sat down at the piano and, in a beautiful contralto, offered moving renditions of “Imagine” followed by “I Will Remember You.” As the final chords faded, Erin remained anchored in place, allowing the solemnity of the moment to linger, taking a few more seconds to remember those who had lost their lives, especially those who were remembered simply as “Name Unknown,” a final indignity to lives tragically cut short. 

After several minutes, Erin turned to the woman on her right, Rachel Stern, a retired IRS Special Agent, and gave her a hug. “I hope you didn’t mind that I added Jacqueline’s name to the list,” Erin whispered, referring to Rachel’s friend Bradford Montgomery, who had also gone by the name Jacqueline Ford. “No. It was nice,” Rachel replied. “I know Brad spent his life in the closet, but he was one of us. Although, we both know Brad’s murder was politically motivated, and not because he was trans.” “That doesn’t make her loss any easier,” Erin replied, purposely switching pronouns to reflect who Brad truly was. “No. You’re right,” Rachel replied, and sighed. “I still miss her.” 

Once they slid out of the pew, Erin gave Logan Stevens a hug. Logan, a self-described biracial, pansexual, genderqueer attorney, had played a huge role in Erin’s last case, and was now dating Rachel. Gathering their belongings, they made their way out into the unseasonably warm evening. They stood outside the chapel in the well-lit area by the walkway to Nassau Street. “A few of us are heading over to the Alchemist & Barrister to grab something to eat. You want to join us?” Logan asked. “Sure,” Erin replied. 

“Excuse me,” a man called out as he approached. “Would you be Erin McCabe?” “I am,” Erin replied, catching Rachel and Logan eyeing the man suspiciously. “I don’t mean to be rude, but are you the criminal defense lawyer?” he asked skeptically. “Yes. I’m that Erin McCabe,” she responded with a small grin. “And to answer your next question, as far as I know, I’m the only Erin McCabe who’s a criminal defense attorney in New Jersey.” “I’m sorry,” the man stammered. “I apologize. You . . . well . . . you just look . . .” 

“Too young to be the infamous Erin McCabe, criminal defense lawyer,” Logan suggested with a chuckle. Erin tried not to blush, but at five foot five with a dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose and a slim, athletic figure, she was still blessed with a youthful appearance that belied the fact that she was a seasoned attorney with a unique backstory. “Is there something I can help you with?” Erin asked. The man rubbed the back of his neck, appearing uncertain. “Um, is it possible for us to speak privately? I promise I won’t keep you from your friends. I know what today is. I was inside for part of the ceremony. I only need a couple of minutes. It’s about a potential case.” Sensing that Rachel was about to spring into special agent mode, Erin turned to her. “Why don’t you go on ahead with the others and save seats for Logan and me?” she said, hoping that Logan’s presence would reassure Rachel. Rachel gave Erin a sidelong glance, but headed off to the restaurant. 

Erin studied the man. He appeared to be in his early thirties, and was significantly taller than her, so her guess was that he was close to six foot. He was a good-looking guy, well-built. He was wearing a black suit, with a white shirt that was unbuttoned at the collar, exposing a gold crucifix hanging from a chain around his neck. And even though Erin didn’t sense any danger, she felt better with Logan standing next to her. “Is this about representing you?” Erin asked. “No. Not me; I have a friend who needs help.” Erin pursed her lips. “Okay, but just so you know, if it’s not about representing you, the attorney-client privilege doesn’t apply.” “What’s that mean?” he asked. “Basically, it means that whatever you tell me isn’t confidential,” she said. He sighed and looked down at the ground, seeming to weigh his options. “Okay,” he finally said. “I guess I don’t have a choice. But can we speak alone?” Now it was Erin’s turn to consider her options. She had certainly pissed off enough rich and powerful people over the last four years to be wary of someone wanting to speak to her alone about representing someone else. Perhaps she was being paranoid, but as she was known to say, “It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you.” Then there was also the issue of Logan, who Erin could sense was now in full protect mode. Erin finally landed on being cautious. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I prefer to have Logan here. Logan’s also an attorney and we sometimes work together, so anything you want to discuss with me you should feel free to discuss with them here as well.” “Them?” the man repeated, looking around. “Yes. Logan’s genderqueer and uses they, them, theirs pronouns.” “Oh,” he replied, unable to mask his confusion. “I apologize. 

I don’t know your name,” Erin said. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Gabriel, Gabriel DeAngelis. But please call me Gabe,” he replied, offering his hand to Erin and Logan in turn. “How can I help you, Gabe?” Erin asked. DeAngelis seemed to glance around to see if anyone was within earshot. “Like I said, it’s not for me. It’s for my . . . my friend. He was arrested two days ago. He’s charged with murder and he desperately needs an attorney and you come highly recommended.” “Nice to know someone highly recommends me,” Erin said. “What’s your friend’s name and who’s he charged with murdering?” “My friend is Jon Mazer and he’s charged with murdering—” “Russell Marshall,” Erin said, finishing the sentence. DeAngelis took a deep breath. “I guess you saw it on the news.” 

“Gabe, unless I was living in a cave on Borneo, it would be pretty hard for me not to know about the case. A white state trooper shoots a Black newspaper reporter, in the reporter’s home—a reporter who allegedly was working on an exposé of the state police. I mean, the governor, state attorney general, and the superintendent of the state police have all condemned your friend as a bad apple in an otherwise stellar law enforcement agency.” “They’re all full of it!” Gabe shouted. “I won’t argue with you about that,” Erin said. “But from what I’ve read, it still sounds like the state has a pretty solid case.” “That’s exactly why Jon needs you. He didn’t do it. He was the one working with Marshall to expose the corruption within the state police.” 

“Look, Gabe, let me be blunt. I presume you know that I’m a transgender woman, and generally speaking, law enforcement doesn’t have a great reputation within the LGBTQ+ community. On top of that, my law partner, Duane Swisher, is a Black man. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how sick and tired Black people are of being killed by white law enforcement officers.” “Ms. McCabe . . .” “Please call me Erin.” “Erin. I get it, but Jon’s not just any trooper—he’s gay. He’s the only out gay male trooper we’re aware of, and since he was outed, other troopers have put him through hell. They literally hate him.” He bit down on his lip, closed his eyes, and exhaled. “Jon’s a close friend. Trust me, he didn’t do it. You have to help him.” Erin stared at him for several seconds. “Based on the fact that you’re here, I’m assuming he’s in custody.” “Yeah. Bail’s been set at two million dollars. There’s no way he can make that.” “The case is in Middlesex County, right?” Gabe nodded. “Not to be crass, but does he have money to pay for a lawyer?” “We’ll find a way.” Erin reached into her purse and took out a business card and handed it to DeAngelis. “Let me talk to my partner. Do you have a card?” He reached into his pocket, took out a card, quickly jotted something on the back, and handed it to her. She looked at the card, then at him. “That’s interesting.” “Please don’t call my work number,” he said. “I wrote my cell number on the back.” “Can you call me around ten a.m. Monday?” she asked. “Yeah. Ten will work.” “Okay. I’ll talk to you then.” He turned and headed down the walkway toward Nassau Street. 

Once he was out of sight, they made their way down Witherspoon Street to join the others at the restaurant. “You going to take the case?” Logan asked. Erin shrugged. “Don’t know. At this point I don’t even know if he can afford a lawyer. Not to mention, I’m not sure how Duane will feel about the racial overtones of the case. I guess we’ll see.” “How about the fact that, based on what’s been in the press, his friend is guilty as sin,” Logan asked. “Nah. That’s not a consideration. If Duane and I only took on clients who were innocent, we would’ve been out of business years ago.” Logan laughed. “You think Gabe and Mazer are more than friends?” “Don’t know,” Erin said. “But it would explain Gabe’s desire for confidentiality.” “Why?” Logan asked. Erin handed Gabe’s card to Logan. Logan looked down at the card, stopped in their tracks, and screamed, “What the fxxx! Are you shxxxing me? Reverend Gabriel DeAngelis, Saint Raymond’s Roman Catholic Church, Franklin, New Jersey.” “You can’t make this stuff up,” Erin said. “Damn, woman,” Logan said. “You sure do get some crazy-ass cases.”

I decided to read this story based upon the title--Nothing But the Truth--an obvious legal novel which I've always enjoyed. It truly is a fascinating fictional story that comes straight from today's headlines. As soon as I finished, I went out and purchased the first in the series - An Erin McCabe Legal Thriller, to begin catching up on the main character's life.

To begin I want to share a portion of the Acknowledgements section written by the author:

Although this book is critical of some in the law enforcement community, I am sensitive to the fact that there are many dedicated people working in law enforcement—I’ve had the pleasure of working with any number of them. It can be a difficult and dangerous profession. However, those dangers should never blind us to the fact that there is room for improvement in the way the public, and in particular, marginalized communities are treated by members of law enforcement. It is no secret that these are especially difficult times for the transgender and nonbinary communities. Trans and nonbinary folks, especially young people, are under attack by people who deny our very existence and seek to take away our basic human rights. Some have vowed to eradicate us. I am an out, proud, and open transgender woman, and if Erin McCabe as a character offers any lessons, it’s that none of us choose to be trans or nonbinary—it’s not a lifestyle choice or a fad—it’s just who we are. Like everyone else, we are human beings trying to live our best lives possible. So, to everyone in the LGBTQ+ community, and especially those in the trans and nonbinary communities, thank you for your strength and inspiration. Finally, thank you to our allies who stand with us, you are invaluable.

Her words match what I had come to know as truth years ago. Given the ways in which those in this minority community are negatively treated, I knew there was No Way that they would "choose" to become something different than, often, their own family members. And, more importantly, Jesus never listed anybody to be excluded when He commanded us to Love God and Love our Neighbors... In fact, if you believe that God created us, then there really is no justification to treat them differently. And yet there have always been those who do. 

You know, folks, from my perspective as a Christian, none of the prejudices that some people develop and attempt to justify hate and violence against others are valid. Nevertheless, as we have seen, it is only on the individual person level that we can truly know who others are... I don't profess to know how others choose to be as an individual, but then, many would never accept that I find fulfillment in reading and talking about the books I read, instead of some other activities that ar available to me... Yes, in my mind, there really is no difference in being called a "Single Cat Lady" as opposed to being a mother, by a vice-presidential candidate than in hearing any other critical evaluation made from one individual toward another... And, in the political world, in my opinion, the extremes that is happening right now in America is totally unacceptable. I didn't know about the characters identities before I started to read. To me, it didn't matter...

Nuf Said...

Erin McCabe is the main character and is a criminal defense lawyer who is rapidly building a name for herself... Standing tall, literally, beside her is a Black former FBI Agent/lawyer who has become a perfect partner for two individuals who've had some difficult history to go through. Like many of us... BUT, for me, my difficulties may not have been my fault but are the types of things we must all deal with, it seems, especially in the present when after too many years, we are still dealing with those who choose hate, prejudice, fear and violence, to be their life choices. My point? I've never experienced personal hate and violence against me like Erin and those who are "different" in some way. You see, I am a white woman and only recently began to see the total indifference from many who see the elderly as a minority they are not interested in supporting... Or, worse, all women who have had their basic rights for feminine health care taken away from them!

This book centers on those who are targeted...just...because...of...who... they...are... And, all those who love them...just...the...way...they...are!

The book opens when Russell Marshall, a local investigative journalist is murdered in his own home. He was Black and soon an openly gay State Trooper is charged with his death. Marshall had actually been working with this trooper since he was doing an investigation on the targeting of Black and other minorities by a group within the State Troopers known as the Lords of Discipline. Jon Mazer had been working with Marshall on his investigation since he had, himself, filed a Internal Affairs report about being harassed by certain Troopers.  

First they discovered his fingerprints in Marshall's home which then led to the fact that one of his guns was used for the murder. Jon's Priest was the one to contact Erin in the hope that she would agree to defend his friend. She took his card and told him that she would discuss the case with her partner. The primary reason to clear with Duane Swisher, known as Swish, was because of the ongoing killing of black men by cops and whether he could handle working closely with a state trooper. But during the initial interview, it was Swish who began to talk about the costs, leaving Erin to recognize that he was willing to take the case.

What they discovered during an in-depth investigation is truly direct from the news headlines. Indeed, Marshall, the news investigator had uncovered the reality that there actually was a group who worked to bring harm to those who were in non-white groups of people. And, verified that the earlier internal investigation had been falsified. The final draft had been shared and ready for publication... That evening Marshall was confronted and murdered!

Erin and Swish are excellent characters. They are loving to each other, totally committed to their professional relationship, and, have to deal with family relationships just like the rest of us... More specifically, they treat each other and their clients as all should be treated--with sensitivity, concern and a dedication to ensuring they have done the best job they could do in defending their clients.

Lots of kids have to deal with issues over who their parents are. But that’s not a reason to shy away. It’s a reason to move forward. Because it’s only when we refuse to be intimidated and we stand up to the bullies that we can move past the hatred and bias to a place of love.”

You will learn that the haters can be situated in just about any position that is available. You will also learn that those who have accepted an oath to protect may willingly choose to break that oath based upon their own prejudices, biases, or because they have been incited to break their oath by those in supervisory positions. And, importantly, you will learn that those who have been targeted feel just as you might feel if you were discriminated against. Rather, that decisions are often made to support their personal drive for power and higher salaries. And, most of all, you will see and read how those who are focused on hate, speak, act, and strive to ensure that their hatred is known and, ultimately, felt by those toward which hate is pointed. You will read language used by the haters that is obscene, yet you will read it as spoken by the haters. In fact, during the trial, you will explore just how much of that hatred spewed by those haters is acceptable, even to prove guilt.

Erin thought. Rule number one—the person responsible will always try to blame someone else when questioned. “Your Honor,” Erin began, “I will represent to you as an officer of the court that neither I, nor Mr. Swisher, has provided any information to the press.

This is the best legal interaction within a novel that I have read. One significant difference was that the judge herself, was much more active during the trial than I had witnessed even through hundreds of hours enjoying television's Law and Order programs! I like to think that this evolved because of recent television court cases that have been shown. Frankly I enjoyed the judge taking a leading role, rather than leaving it to the prosecuting team to control the activities.

One of the areas that came across clearly in the course of the legal preparation was that both sides needed to know much about all forms of computer technology and how it can be used to create, secure and share. In this case, it came to be the computer experts that led to the final decision... For me, I have no concern about how things can be done, rather I want to know what is possible. There will always be those who strive to communicate secretly, for whatever reason. Bottom line, for me, I learned much simply from reading this book!

One final point, there is considerable discussion about women's reproductive issues, including for minority people. I learned much from this book as well. Women's reproductive rights is uppermost in women's minds these days. Given one party's attempts to move us backward, while science has gained leaps and bounds in improving options in this very personal field, I found myself grateful for the author tackling the legal methods by which women can ensure that their needs are met within the laws but in support of what the medical professionals must address as well. Both were exceptionally well presented with specific issues and character involvement.

This was my first book read by author/lawyer Robyn Gigl. Her skills and expertise in both fields is so revealed that she's given me one of the most comprehensive fictional legal book that I've read in many years. It's an important read for women experiencing today's trauma at the hands of the republican party. Women will begin to understand the complexities of just how many issues that can occur in reproductive health! It will provide women with an exploration of how the doctor, lawyer, family dynamic can effectively occur--even without the government!!! I loved it and will continue to at least read this series...and more... Highly recommended as an addition to my Personal Favorites for 2024!

GABixlerReviews 

“... think about it. Isn’t everyone’s desire to have a baby inherently selfish? Mind you, I’m not talking about an unwanted pregnancy or someone who’s raped, I’m talking about a mature couple that decides they want a baby. Why do we do that? Why do we think the world will be a better place if we create a child?”