Stuff too dangerous for the younger me



I love food.  Savoury more than sweet.  Quantity more than quality.    A slice of granary with butter and marmite covered with sweet black grapes?  Wonderful!  Roast veggies spiced and flavoured?  A meal needing nothing else.  A whole fish filleted on either side with the bones grilled and flavoured as the fillets?  Heaven!  And then let’s talk Turkish – borek.  Filo pastry layered and smothering something lip-smacking savoury!  If that ain’t heaven I ain’t going!

My tastes have changed over the years.  Still love bread.  But now with butter and lemon-salt.  That’s a newbie.  Never knew lemon-salt existed.  And spices.  And chilli.  All those “grown-up flavours” denied to young children.  My body now old enough to abuse with stuff too dangerous for the younger me.  Then it was baby food.  Bland and mushy.  And then some chewy stuff.  And then evolution to a full-on gorgeous Full-English!



And cholesterol worries.  And calories and the need to count them.  And a balanced diet and the concern of heartburn and blood pressure.  And good fat and bad fat.  And roughage and protein and carbohydrates and obesity and anorexia.  The science not of food but of the consequences of food.

I once had the best toastie I have ever had.  Impossible to recreate.  Just like the best meal created from desperation and empty cupboards and love.  Never created again.  Impossible.  Then those sensuous meals intertwined with sex and hormones.  Or the meals cloaked in sadness, anger, frustration or loneliness.  Food is a big part of my life.

And then the bible.



The bible is dumbed-down, de-spiced, de-flavoured, and de-greased for children.  Baby food.  A jolly morality-tale.  Good triumphs evil.  A simple tale given in baby-sized portions.  Usually ending with a “show and tell” always applauded by adults.

And then bible study and/or bible class.  And some spice and lemon-salt.  Some prefer savoury, others sweet.  And like learning new recipes, so the focus is on verse and reference.  This verse goes with this – but not that.  This chapter echoes that chapter –  but contradicts that.  Don’t mix this with that.  Steer clear of those.  Stay close to these.

I see those qualified in God debating this verse and that.  Only allowing bible perfection to enter their souls.  Where verses are bible-tasting no different to the swirling and spitting-out of refined-educated wine-tasting.  I was taught I need the bible.  Preferably every day, but a least once a week – best done in church – best with a study-plan.  The book with all the answers to the questions I never knew I had.  Keep it close.  Know it well.  Interpret it correctly and you too will find The Way.  I walked that path and found the way.  And also questions with answers no one seemed to think “correct”.

Like where is living without needing “the manual”? 

When does the greatest of these ever become the greatest of these?   A living that becomes intuitive in all circumstances.  Love I knew before the bible was ever part of my life.  Love before I was even born.  Even as a growing bump connected to a life-force I never knew or understood.  No gratitude then.  No worship then.  No right way or wrong way then.  Love was.  Love is.  Love will always.

You teach me that I should love this or that or the other.  You ask if the bible approves.  You show me where the bible approves and disapproves.  You ignore the bits which contradict: “We see dimly” you tell me just as I learned to answer.  You teach me “the greatest of these is” but live by rules.  You teach me Love but live by being “biblically correct” in all things.  You live by swirling and spitting.  By education and qualification.

Love is and I am.

The rest is someone else deciding what I should and should not taste.  The rest is me being disconnected and needing your written menu to get the balance of flavours “correct”.  The bible remains a document I must study.  A document I check myself and you against.  A document that can launch my journey but will never deliver the destination.

For my destination is …

Love is and I am.

And that only I can allow.

(or not)



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