Black Sapphire's blog: "If you don't laugh, you'll cry"

Hi everyone. Just so you know, this is not a "repost". This is me, Nik, Nicola, Black Sapphire, whatever you want to call me, giving you some really good advice. I'm sure loads of you have heard about this. A short while ago the government stepped in to say that the charges banks lay upon their customers on a monthly basis is unfair and unlawful. They stated that the banks should oly charge what it actually costs them in admin costs to process the situation. This is usually no more than a couple of quid. As you know, every time you go over your overdraft limit you incur a charge, however the amounts the banks have been charging for unarranged overdraft usage are ridiculous. For instance at one point I was being charged £125 a month. Now some of you may have heard that there is a way to get this money back. All you have to do is get a copy of your bank statements for the last SIX YEARS and work out exactly how much the bank has charged you. This may seem daunting, but it will only take you about half an hour and IT IS WORTH IT. Then all you have to do is write to your bank, listing each charge and the date it was incurred . Here is a template of the letter you should write: template letter 1 The bank will then write back to you. Often they will try and fob you off, trying to convince you that you have no case and they had every right to make those charges. This is not true. They don't have a leg to stand on. If at this point they do not co-operate, then you can threaten to take them to small claims court. A letter like this should be written: template letter 2 At this point they fold. They don't want to go to court coz its not worth the court fees. They also know that they aren't going to win, which means not only will they have to pay your court fees for you, but that they will have lost face in the public eye. If one person can beat them in court, so can lots of other people. So this is when they send you a nice letter with the heading "Dear Sir/Madam, without prejudice", which is their way of denying any responsibility. That's one the thing the bank won't do. They will not accept any blame at all. But they will do is make you an offer. Sometimes if you are lucky they will offer you the full amount, but in most cases they will offer you a reduced amount. It is then up to you whether you accept it or not. Ok, now for the example and PROOF that this works. This is me. You know me. This isn't some scam that gets circulated around CherryTap every day. This actually happened to me, Black Sapphire; Nicola Rosemary Dalton. I asked my bank to send me details of the bank charges I had incurred over the last 6 years. At first they didn't want to co-operate and told me they couldn't pull that information up on the screen. Instead they send me a hard copy of every statement over the last 6 years. That was a heavy envelope I can tell you. Why did they do this? Easy. They figured I probably couldn't be bothered to trawl through it all. They were wrong. So I got me a highlighter pen and sat down one night went through every single transaction, higliting every single bank charge. It took me about half an hour and the total was a staggering £941 So I wrote a letter to the bank manager. At first I heard nothing. Then a few weeks later I had a letter saying that they were under no obligation to process my request, as I had given them the information in the wrong format. You have to list each charge seperately for them you see. I left for a few days meaning to get back to it later. Another couple of weeks went by and completely out of the blue a letter arrived from my bank saying that "We feel we had every right to charge you said amount, it is in the terms and conditons and that if you take us to court, we feel sure we would win." However in the very next paragraph "However in the interest of commercialism and in good faith we can make you the offer of £829" Or worst to that effect. Basically they had caved. They were giving me the bulk of the money back. SO PLEASE if you've had ridiculous bank charges, do something about it. Ask for it back. It DOES work.

Last night, for the first time in over two years, I had a panic attack. For those of you who have had a panic attack, I need not say much else. But for those of you lucky enough to have never been inflicted, this is a mild description of what it is like: Every muscle in your body tenses up. Your hands clench into fists. You cannot breathe and start hyperventilating. Your chest tightens. You shake. You wail. You look desperately for something to break the tension that appears to be destroying you from the inside. You feel trapped and claustophobic. You experience a sense of complete loss of control like the walls are closing in, made worse by the feeling that you just cannot catch and control your breath. Finally as it eventually starts to subside you feel despair and weakness all over your body. It is different for everyone, but that's what it's like for me. Today I have a killer headache, puffy, sore eyes and 2-inch lump on my head where I banged it repeatedly against the cupboard door. You just want it to stop, you see, you'll do anything. It seemed more sensible that the vegetable knife in my right hand, or the pan of boiling water on the stove. I think you'd have to agree there. I sound like a head-case. But those of you who know me know that I'm not. This could happen to anybody, really. When James finally managed to calm me down and I was breathing normally it took a good 10 minutes before I could actually string a sentence together without breaking down again. He wanted to know what sparked it off. He's never seen me have a panic attack before and it scared him. It was hard to say but I am always honest with him. James gets very angry with certain computer games. Normally I can ignore the yelling, screaming and ballstic controllers flying across the room, but for some reason, last night it triggered something: repressed memories I suppose and I know it has something to do with my Dad. He used to have such a violent temper. As a child I was terrified of him. I'm sure that's where it came from. But why it happened last night and no other time, I still don't know. I spent the rest of the evening feelng guilty. It's my way. I hate the way my depression affects the people who care about me, and the panic attack had the same effect. I was also physically and emotionally weakened. Watching the eiosode of 'House' where Foreman is dying turned out to be a serious error. I spent the entire episode sobbing. I hate that feeling. It makes me feel so stupid and like I have no control. That's what's so horrible about the depression (I think some of you will agree) is the complete loss of emotional control. It's the reason why when people say "get over it" or "snap out of it" we feel like smashing their ignorant faces in. If we could, we bloody well would, wouldn't we? I slept right through to 5am, but was plagued by nightmares, ranging from having devestating fights with close friends to trying to save an entire pod of beached whales. I woke wailing and unable to open my eyes, they were so swollen. At 7 I managed to drag myself out of bed and have spent the rest of the morning trying to stay awake and draw attention away from my face. Sigh. On a brighter note it's Friday and my printer is working again. Hurrah!

Hi everyone, I've missed you so much. Thank you everyone who sent me messages, I've finally got around to approving them! You see it all happened on a dark evening 2 weeks ago. I came home to find a very irate James and a dead phone line. No phone, no internet, no Sky Interactive. We are not amused. I have come to the conclusion recently that British Telecom, although they have lovely speaking voices, are a bunch of fuck-wits. Apologies to anyone reading this who is, is related to or knows a BT employee, but all they have done is deny responsibility, threaten to charge astronimical fees, miss appointments, fail to turn up, fail to fix the problem (on 3 occasions), fail to turn up some more and fail to communicate on various occasions. We are fuming. We have a 2-foot-square hole outside our house, the barriers around which mean we cannot use our own drive and make getting into the car park difficult for everyone on the street. They promised the problem would be fixed a week ago and yet we are still without our phone line. The only means of outside communication we have is my mobile phone. So that, my dear friends, is why I haven't been around. I am now back at work (grrr) and am sending this from my work computer. Aside from that we had a lovely Christmas. James's Mum turned out to be really good company and we all had a great time. She met my Mum for the first time and they get on really well. She also loves my nieces, which has left me questioning her sanity. But as long as she's happy, who cares? New Year was also good. Our friends James and Louise from London came to stay and it was absolutely lovely having them. I was sad to see them go yesterday. They're the kind of people who are just amazingly good company and always make good coversation. They're two of the nicest people I know and frankly I wish we saw them more often. Proof of this is thhat upon their arrival, Nick and Doug rang up to say they were coming to visit us on Sunday afternoon. As I pointed out to Louise, this was only because they were staying with us (you know its true!). Plus Louise is Wiccan and its been great having a fellow-sister in the house. :) For New Years we went to the ole' faithful Orange Tree on High Street. Now get this, my dear chickadees, I DID NOT DRINK! Not one drop of alcohol passed my lips...well maybe one drop. But it was literally that. A taste of the evening's first round of drinks, which were by the way, on the house. How generous of the Orange Tree proprietors! Coke and rum, which was very nice, but spent the rest of 2006 drinking non-alcohlic cocktails. One was particularly nice and was named a "Twister". This was a refreshing and delicious combination of cranberry and elderflower. Lovely. Poor James wasn't feeling too good and at one point announced he was going home, which made me very sad. I mean I wanted him there at midnight. I wanted my kiss! So off he went to find himself a taxi. Fifteen minutes later I get a call from him, which I could barely hear over the din of the bar, saying that he was coming back and could I meet him at the door to get the bouncer to let him in. So in he came. Apparently he'd managed to get a taxi straight away but only got as far as Charles Street (5 mins away) before the taxi driver chucked him out of the car because he was "feeling sick". That 5 inue journey cost him a hefty £7. That's new Year for you. Anyway, after that he promptly threw up and alked back to the Orange Treet where he felt much, much better and proceeded to drink an entire pitcher of Long island Iced tea all to himself followed by a Vesper Martini. Well Midnight came and I got my kiss so I went home happy. All's well that ends well right? After James and Louiise went home, me and (my) James spent our last day of the holiday plaing Tomb Raider (he's getting very good now), watching Seinfeld, Spaceballs and Garth Marenghi's Darkplace. I finished off the evening with some Resident Evil 4 and then James read to me from the H.P. Lovecraft Omnibus. I like the way that man thinks...darkly. So come on everyone what have you all been upto?! I'm dying to hear how you all are.

The Hormone Hostage knows that there are days in themonth when all a man has to do is open his mouth and he takes his life in his own hands! This is a handy guide that should be as common as a driver's license in the wallet of every husband, boyfriend, co-worker or significant other! Some tips: DANGEROUS: What's for dinner? SAFER:Can I help you with dinner? SAFEST: Where would you like to go for dinner? ULTRA SAFE: Here, have some wine. DANGEROUS: Are you wearing that? SAFER: Wow, you sure look good in brown! SAFEST: WOW! Look at you! ULTRA SAFE: Here, have some wine DANGEROUS: What are you so worked up about? SAFER: Could we be overreacting? SAFEST: Here's my paycheque. ULTRA SAFE: Here, have some wine. DANGEROUS: Should you be eating that? SAFER: You know, there are a lot of apples left. SAFEST: Can I get you a?piece of chocolate?with that? ULTRA SAFE: Here, have some wine. DANGEROUS: What did you DO all day? SAFER: I hope you didn't over-do it today. SAFEST: I've always loved you in that robe! ULTRA SAFE: Here, have some more wine. 13 Things PMS Stands For: 1 Pass My Shotgun 2 Psychotic Mood Shift 3 Perpetual Munching Spree 4 Puffy Mid-Section 5 People Make me Sick 6 Provide Me with Sweets 7 Pardon My Sobbing 8 Pimples May Surface 9 Pass My Sweat pants 10. Pissy Mood Syndrome 11. Plainly; Men Suck 12. Pack My Stuff and my favourite one. 13. Potential Murder Suspect Pass this on to all of your hormonal friends and those who might need a good laugh! ...Or men who need a warning. And remember: Money talks .... but Chocolate SINGS!!!

The Folded Napkin .. A Truckers Story If this doesn't light your fire..your wood is wet! I try not to be biased, but I had my doubts about hiring Stevie. His placement counselor assured me that he would be a good, reliable busboy. But I had never had a mentally handicapped employee and wasn't sure I wanted one. I wasn't sure how my customers would react to Stevie. He was short, a little dumpy with the smooth facial features and thick-tongued speech of Downs Syndrome. I wasn't worried about most of my trucker customers because truckers don't generally care who buses tables as long as the meatloaf platter is good and the pies are homemade. The four-wheeler drivers were the ones who concerned me; the mouthy college kids traveling to school; the yuppie snobs who secretly polish their silverware with their napkins for fear of catching some dreaded "truck stop germ" the pairs of white-shirted business men on expense accounts who think every truck stop waitress wants to be flirted with. I knew those people would be uncomfortable around Stevie so I closely watched him for the first few weeks. I shouldn't have worried. After the first week, Stevie had my staff wrapped around his stubby little finger, and within a month my truck regulars had adopted him as their official truck stop mascot. After that, I really didn't care what the rest of the customers thought of him. He was like a 21-year-old in blue jeans and Nikes, eager to laugh and eager to please, but fierce in his attention to his duties. Every salt and pepper shaker was exactly in its place, not a bread crumb or coffee spill was visible when Stevie got done with the table. Our only problem was persuading him to wait to clean a table until after the customers were finished. He would hover in the background, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table was empty. Then he would scurry to the empty table and carefully bus dishes and glasses onto his cart and meticulously wipe the table up with a practiced flourish of his rag. If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would pucker with added concentration. He took pride in doing his job exactly right, and you had to love how hard he tried to please each and every person he met. Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer. They lived on their Social Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truck stop. Their social worker, who stopped to check on him every so often, admitted they had fallen between the cracks. Money was tight, and what I paid him was probably the difference between them being able to live together and Stevie being sent to a group home. That's why the restaurant was a gloomy place that morning last August, the first morning in three years that Stevie missed work. He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new valve or something put in his heart. His social worker said that people with Downs Syndrome often have heart problems at an early age so this wasn't unexpected, and there was a good chance he would come through the surgery in good shape and be back at work in a few months. A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word came that he was out of surgery, in recovery, and doing fine. Frannie, the head waitress, let out a war hoop and did a little dance in the aisle when she heard the good news. Belle Ringer, one of our regular trucker customers, stared at the sight of this 50-year-old grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside his table. Frannie blushed, smoothed her apron and shot Belle Ringer a withering look. He grinned. "OK, Frannie, what was that all about?" he asked. "We just got word that Stevie is out of surgery and going to be okay." "I was wondering where he was. I had a new joke to tell him. What was the surgery about?" Frannie quickly told Belle Ringer and the other two drivers sitting at his booth about Stevie's surgery, then sighed: "Yeah, I'm glad he is going to be OK," she said. "But I don't know how he and his Mom are going to handle all the bills. From what I hear, they're barely getting by as it is." Belle Ringer nodded thoughtfully, and Frannie hurried off to wait on the rest of her tables. Since I hadn't had time to round up a busboy to replace Stevie and really didn't want to replace him, the girls were busing their own tables that day until we decided what to do. After the morning rush, Frannie walked into my office. She had a couple of paper napkins in her hand and a funny look on her face. "What's up?" I asked. "I didn't get that table where Belle Ringer and his friends were sitting cleared off after they left, and Pony Pete and Tony Tipper were sitting there when I got back to clean it off," she said. "This was folded and tucked under a coffee cup." She handed the napkin to me, and three $20 bills fell onto my desk when I opened it. On the outside, in big, bold letters, was printed "Something For Stevie". "Pony Pete asked me what that was all about," she said, "so I told him about Stevie and his Mom and everything, and Pete looked at Tony and Tony looked at Pete, and they ended up giving me this." She handed me another paper napkin that had "Something For Stevie" scrawled on its outside. Two $50 bills were tucked within its folds. Frannie looked at me with wet, shiny eyes, shook her head and said simply: "truckers." That was three months ago. Today is Thanksgiving, the first day Stevie is supposed to be back to work. His placement worker said he's been counting the days until the doctor said he could work, and it didn't matter at all that it was a holiday. He called 10 times in the past week, making sure we knew he was coming, fearful that we had forgotten him or that his job was in jeopardy. I arranged to have his mother bring him to work. I then met them in the parking lot and invited them both to celebrate his day back. Stevie was thinner and paler, but couldn't stop grinning as he pushed through the doors and headed for the back room where his apron and busing cart were waiting. "Hold up there, Stevie, not so fast," I said. I took him and his mother by their arms. "Work can wait for a minute. To celebrate you coming back, breakfast for you and your mother is on me!" I led them toward a large corner booth at the rear of the room. I could feel and hear the rest of the staff following behind as we marched through the dining room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw booth after booth of grinning truckers empty and join the procession. We stopped in front of the big table. Its surface was covered with coffee cups, saucers and dinner plates, all sitting slightly crooked on dozens of folded paper napkins. "First thing you have to do, Stevie, is clean up this mess," I said. I tried to sound stern. Stevie looked at me, and then at his mother, then pulled out one of the napkins. It had "Something for Stevie" printed on the outside. As he picked it up, two $10 bills fell onto the table. Stevie stared at the money, then at all the napkins peeking from beneath the tableware, each with his name printed or scrawled on it. I turned to his mother. "There's more than $10,000 in cash and checks on that table, all from truckers and trucking companies that heard about your problems. "Happy Thanksgiving,". Well, it got real noisy about that time, with everybody hollering and shouting, and there were a few tears, as well. But you know what's funny? While everybody else was busy shaking hands and hugging each other, Stevie, with a big, big smile on his face, was busy clearing all the cups and dishes from the table. Best worker I ever hired. Plant a seed and watch it grow. At this point, you can bury this inspirational message or forward it fulfilling the need! If you shed a tear, hug yourself, because you are a compassionate person. Well.. Don't just sit there! Send this story on! Keep it going, this is a good one!

Hi guys, Well The Lab is still there, but the nausea seems to have kicked its tail and scampered off to the hills. I am still having nightmares, suffering fatigue and getting the odd headache. No dizziness at the moment which is nice. Zeb (see my pics for details) is being very attentive and insists on sitting on me if I stay still long enough. He's going to be rather upset when I go back to work, I think. I am getting Cabin fever, though. Its driving me mad. I've had charmed, Alias and House MD to keep me company. Obviously I've also had the Xbox but when you have nausea, even I can only take a coupe of hours of Lara Croft at a time...and I used to play 72 hours straight at one time. Today I actually went to the Supermarket just for an excuse to get out. I was very good and actually managed to do a good economical and sensible shop. The fact that my appetite is pretty much dead helped. It meant I shopped with head instead of my stomach. I'm sure you know what I mean. I've also wrapped pretty much ALL of the Christmas presents. The only ones I haven't done are the ones that I don't have yet. Obviously I can't wrap them before they arrive. All in all I am feeling better and was even amused by my nightmare last night, which featured me being chased around the supermarket by a Berserker from Gears of War. I think anyone who's played that game will see the funny side.

Hi everyone, I am sorry I haven't been around for a few days. I am behind with messages, comments, returning compliments and posting/reposting bulletins. I am actually not very well at the moment and it makes me feel ill to sit at the computer for too long. So this shall be short. I have Labrynthitis. Those who know what that is I'm sure you understand, those who don't. you should look it up. It's a nightmare. I'm going to find somewhere warm and safe to keep still in. Love and blessings, Nik (Black Sappihre)

The land is cold, the sky is dark, As Winter comes our way. With Samhain past, the Crone is here. A time of darker days. For our lady has her burden now, A Mother soon she'll be. As Earth's life cycle turns again, Our Lord a baern will be. As Yule comes 'round, the trees turn gold, And soon they will be bare. But in our hearts a kindled flame, For all that passed this year. We cast our circles, light our flames, Offerings to the One, To Bless this space, our spell, our prayer, Our promise to harm none. And in they come all five of them, To bless us wth their power. And when we're done we thank each one, Spirit, Earth, Air, Water and Fire. For the magick is all around us, In every earth-bound thing. The Rivers, trees and the mountains, The light we hold within. And so my brothers and sisters, Though we're all far apart, Their light binds us all together. Blessed be and Merry part.

PATHWAYS Well, it had been yet another bad day in the office, and once again it was the fault of that new girl, MaryAnne. She is one of those Wiccans, a so called witch. How can anyone in their right mind make this claim, knowing that it goes against God and all of the teachings of the bible? She doesn't even have the common decency to keep her satanic symbol, her pentagram necklace hidden from the view of the decent, God fearing people in the office. She has some nerve. I find that I cannot hate her for this though, for I know that she has been deceived. Satan works his evil in ways that she cannot see. I've seen that so called Wiccan Rede that she has tacked to the wall above her computer. On the surface, it looks like a decent loving belief, but all one must do is look, look closely and see that by practicing this way, and not embracing Jesus Christ as savior she is on the pathway to hell. As I've said, it was a bad day in the office. Three times in the past few weeks I have been called in to see my supervisor, and he has told me that I am not allowed to preach to MaryAnne the word of God, to show her the error of her ways. Today, my supervisor told me that if I continue to "harass" MaryAnne, he will be forced to terminate me. How can he say this? He himself is a God fearing man. And, how can he be so tolerant of the evil that he sees insinuating itself into our workplace? As I lay down to sleep last night, I asked the Lord for guidance. "God, grant me a true vision of you, so that I may better lead the faithless onto the righteous path," "Oh, a true vision of Me is it? Are you sure that you're ready, truly ready to see, my son?" I sat bolt upright in bed, and there, at the foot of my bed, white of hair and beard, in a long, flowing white robe, stood the Lord my God. I made to leap from the bed and fall to my knees in front of Him, but he stopped me with a gesture. "Kneel not before me at this time my son. Instead, rise and walk with Me, so that you may get a glimpse of what I truly am, as you asked of me in your prayer." He took my hand, and as I looked, my bedroom was no longer there, but a pathway thru the woods. We started to walk, and I was too awestruck for words. We took the path to the left, and we were then inside St. Catherine's Church, in the middle of a service. While still standing beside me, God seemed to expand and fill the whole of the church. I could see smiles of contentment forming on some of the parishioners faces. I felt blessed. God smiled upon me."The Catholics hold such pretty masses, don't they? I like to stop here in this church, because not only do they speak the words, but they live the life, thru teaching, helping the sick and poor, not only with handouts, but helping them learn to help themselves. Now let us walk on," And we were back on the pathway. We traveled a bit further along, and then were in the parlor of a funeral home. A young woman was kneeling before the casket, resting her head on it and crying. I could see by the similarity, that this dead man must be her father. God knelt beside her, and drew His arms about her. "Miss him, that is all right, but weep not for him, for now he is with Me". She wiped her eyes, and stood with a sad smile upon her face, and said "Good-bye Daddy. I'll miss you," and turned and left the room. And we were back on the pathway. We walked a little ways, and we were in front of a large lodge of some kind. I could hear music and laughter spilling out of the windows. I turned to look at God, and was shocked to see, not the flowing white robe, but Him wearing leather and animal furs, his hair and beard now the color of wheat, and a sword strapped across His back. He strode forth, and I saw him approach a figure I had not seen before. As I looked close, I was shocked to see that it was the same face that I had just seen dead, but looking young and strong, and dressed in ancient looking garb, an ax strapped to his waist. God strode up to him and grabbed him in a great bear hug. "Welcome my son. We've been waiting for you. Now, go inside and raise a cup or two, and meet with your brother." And, with a hearty slap on the back, he sent the man inside. And then we were back on the pathway. We walked a bit further, and then we were in a mosque. At least I believed so, as I had never been in one before, but had seen pictures of them. The group of worshippers was not large, but I could see their rapt faces as they listened to the mullah speak. He was speaking to them of purity, both of the mind and the body, bringing them closer to Allah. And as he spoke, God, dressed now in the robes of the desert, walked among them and briefly laid his hands upon each set of shoulders. And, from their faces, I could see that these men knew that the words of the mullah were true, and that their spirits felt touched by God. And then we were back on the pathway. After we had walked a bit, we found ourselves in an African village. People with skin as black as night, the women with their breast shamefully bared, were dancing in a circle, to the rhythm of the drums being played by a group of men. Somehow though, I was not offended by the bared breasts, and the music seemed to seep into my soul. God was then a mighty lion, and He let forth a mighty roar. The villagers did not seem to hear, but the drums increased their pounding, and the dancers danced with a frenzy. And then we were back on the pathway. We walked a bit more, and were on the top of a cliff. There sat, painted and covered with feathers, an old Navajo man. As I watched, he seemed to change into the form of an eagle and take flight, and we were flying with him, soaring high into the air, seeing the vista spread out below us. And God, in the form of an eagle Himself, seemed to guide this other eagle thru the air, over mountains and thru valleys, until he came upon a group of men. As I watched, the old Navajo man was no longer an eagle, but a young boy instead, and he sat at the feet of these men, to listen to the words of his elders. And then we were back on the pathway. We traveled a bit, and then we were in a forest clearing. I knew this place. It was known as a place of devil worship and evil. In the center of the clearing roared a great bonfire, and kiwi torches outlined a circle of sorts. Inside this circle, in a circle themselves, stood 7 men and 6 women, dressed in robes of varying colors, their arms raised to the moon. Was that one woman MaryAnne? I really couldn't be sure. And God walked among them in the circle, touching each one. He seemed not to be an older man now, but as he made each of three turns around the circle, he was first a young girl, bouncing with energy, then a woman of middle years, with a tender smile for all Her children, and finally, an old woman, body bent, but holding Her head up with pride. And a woman stepped forward, and yes, it was MaryAnne, and lifted her head to the sky. "Great Goddess, Mother of us all, thank you for joining us tonight. Stay if You will, go if You must. Know in our hearts You will always be welcome. Blessed be!!" And we were back on the pathway. As we walked along, ahead in the distance I saw the most beautiful man. Yes, beautiful, though I would never normally think of a man this way. With blonde hair, and a golden robe, he seemed to radiate sunshine. God and this golden man nodded to each other as they passed, sharing a smile together. "My Lord" I asked, "was that an angel?" "Well, yes, he is known as that to some. He is also known to some as a god himself. That was Lucifer" And His words caused me to stumble. I couldn't believe that we had just passed the ultimate evil. God looked at me, and He knew my mind. And he chuckled a bit. "Think about it logically My son. The Lucifer that you know is a fallen angel, cast out of heaven for challenging Me. If I am the all powerful being, above all others, how could he do this? How could I allow it?" "But, in the bible...." I stammered. "The Bible is a wonderful book, as are the Koran and the Torah and many others, but they are just books, written by the hand of man, not written by Me. And, it's a bit confusing as well if the truth be known, but that's not up to Me to fix. These books are wonderful, but only as guidance, for each man and woman must think for themselves." And, I believed He was right in this. "Now, come forth, we must journey a little more before you go back" and He took my hand once again. As we followed the pathway, we soared thru the stars, listening to the music of the heavens, we became a little flower and a mighty oak, we became a babbling brook, and a mighty ocean. We flitted from flower to flower as a little honey bee, and ran across the plains as a mighty stallion. And, all too soon the pathway returned us to my home. God held my hand a moment longer, and smiled into my face. "My son, you prayed tonight for a true vision of Me. For vision, you must only open your eyes and see what there is to see. Good night to you". And then He was gone, and I was back in my bed. A dream I thought, only a dream, that couldn't have been real. At that time, a bolt of lightning lit up my room thru the window, and thunder crashed thru the sky, and I thought I heard, from seemingly far away, "Remember, the Lord works in mysterious ways My son". This morning as I entered the office, I went to the machine for a cup of coffee, and standing there, I spied MaryAnne. As I approached her, I could see her barely cringe, and I could see in her face that she was expecting yet another onslaught from me and my book. She seemed to cast her eyes about for a way to escape, but there was none. I walked up to her and smiled. "I think I owe you a bit of an apology" I said. "I've been a bit narrow minded of late, and I really had no right to subject you to what I did. It's not up to me to say how you find your path to your spirit, and I was wrong to think that was so," MaryAnne just stood there, not knowing what to say. "So, I just wanted to say that I'm so sorry, and I hope you will forgive my trespass. God bless you MaryAnne, and...uh.... Blessed Be?" May those with whom we share ourselves be open and understanding, that they may be shown what spirituality is to them.......and how it may not be as different as they think...... Galadryael StarFyre "Great Spirit, Great Spirit, my Grandfather, all over the earth the faces of living things are all alike... Look upon these faces of children without number and with children in their arms, that they may face the winds and walk the good road to the day of quiet." -- Black Elk (1863-1950) Oglala Sioux holy man

Why is it that people say they "slept like a baby" when babies wake up every two hours? Why do we press harder on a remote control when we know the batteries are flat? Why do banks charge a fee on "insufficient funds" when they know there is not enough? Why does someone believe you when you say there are four billion stars, but check when you say the paint is wet? Why doesn't glue stick to the inside of the bottle? Why do they use sterilized needles for death by lethal injection? Why doesn't Tarzan have a beard? Why does Superman stop bullets with his chest, but ducks when you throw a revolver at him? Why do Kamikaze pilots wear helmets? Whose idea was it to put an "S" in the word "lisp"? What is the speed of darkness? If people evolved from apes, why are there still apes? If it's true that we are here to help others, what are the others doing here? If someone with a split personality threatens to commit suicide, is it a hostage situation? Do you cry under water? How important does a person have to be before they are considered assassinated instead of just murdered? If money doesn't grow on trees then why do banks have branches? Why does a round pizza come in a square box? How is it that we put man on the moon before we figured out it would be a good idea to put wheels on luggage? Why do people pay to go up tall buildings and then put money in binoculars to look at things on the ground? Why do doctors leave the room while you change? They're going to see you naked anyway. Did you ever stop and wonder...... Who was the first person to look at a cow and say, "I think I'll squeeze these pink dangly things here, and drink whatever comes out?" Who was the first person to say, "See that chicken there... I'm gonna eat the next thing that comes outta it's bum." Why do toasters always have a setting so high that could burn the toast to a horrible crisp, which no decent human being would eat? Why is there a light in the fridge and not in the freezer? Why do people point to their wrist when asking for the time, but don't point to their bum when they ask where the bathroom is? Why does your Obstetrician, Gynaecologist leave the room when you get undressed if they are going to look and have a poke up there anyway? Why does Goofy stand erect while Pluto remains on all fours? They're both dogs! If quizzes are quizzical, what are tests? (This one kills me!!!!) If corn oil is made from corn, and vegetable oil is made from vegetables, then what is baby oil made from? If electricity comes from electrons, does morality come from morons? Why do the Alphabet song and Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star have the same tune? (Stop singing and read on...........) Do illiterate people get the full effect of Alphabet Soup? Did you ever notice that when you blow in a dog's face, he gets mad at you, but when you take him on a car ride, he sticks his head out the window? Does pushing the elevator button more than once make it arrive faster? Do you ever wonder why you gave me your e-mail address in the first place?!!! Why do fridges have egg compartments, when eggs do not need to be stored in a fridge?