#Jah Guidance

[curryvillain]

OLDIES SUNDAY: Toyan - Spar With Me (1981)

When it comes to Jamaican music, there is respect given to the Artist/Writer, and the Producer. What some forget about is the DJ/Selector who helps to break the Record. Before Social Media was a thing, it was the Disc Jockey who made sure your song got played. It’s still relevant in some scenarios today, and we still have to respect their role. Keeping with the theme of songs that may have been…

[am-reggae]

Johnny Osbourne – Love Is Universal // Sello: Jah Guidance, VP Records – VPS9790 // Vinilo, 7", 45 RPM // UK / Publicado: 22 abr 2022 // ========================= ESTADO: ========== 7" Nuevo / No está precintado ==================== 13€ ====================

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for potentially endangering my young son?

To start with the full context, I (256M) discovered something that nobody else would believe me on - a modified strand of DNA. Most people seemed to think it was a hoax, but after doing more research into the source, I found out that a secret organization had hidden someone in the human world, who had no idea she was actually an elf.

Now, it would have made sense if I had gone out to search for her myself. However, that's illegal, and I couldn't find the time, since I was so busy with work from the Council. So, I had my eldest son (now 28M, at the time 13M) go and search for the girl. It was a bit of a futile process, I'll admit, because the girl we were looking for would have been just a baby at the time. Nevertheless, I sent him to look every day.

However, as he moved on to his final years of school, he also became too busy, and it was harder for him to get away. The solution I came up with was to have my second son (now 17M, at the time 6M) go out and find the girl instead. I think it worked out fairly well, as it was easier for him to be less suspicious, since he was closer to the girl's age anyway. I sent him out every day, and every day he came home perfectly fine. I had to keep this a secret from my wife (148F), because it was highly illegal. On the few days that she did notice our son wasn't home, I came up with clever excuses, such as "he's at a friend's house" (even though he didn't really have any friends at the time).

I am a bit worried that I might have stressed my son out too much, when he started school at 11. I still had him go to the human world most days, even when there was school. I told the principal it was something classified, and she accepted that as a valid reason. This meant that my son still had to do both his homework and schoolwork at home. At the time I thought it was fine, but looking back I'm worried that might have been taking it too far.

Additionally, I sent him into the human world with no guidance whatsoever, since my eldest son did just fine on his own. Nobody I know personally has raised any concerns about this, but I've seen humans on tumblr openly criticise my actions and my "terrible parenting."

It made me wonder… Am I the jerk for sending my six year old son into the forbidden cities alone every day, and forcing him to spend most of his childhood growing up there?

[starrmarr]

any tips to overcome love rejection, i knew deep down he didn’t love me as much i did but we kept playing the game, we were officially a couple for a long time but i kept fighting telling him how he just didn’t show any real love in the last fight he just told me he didn’t love me as i did i mean i asked for the truth but i feel my self esteem is so damage that i cant handle it

idk you seem genuine, sorry for any typo this is my second language

Thank you for taking the time to send me this message and for thinking of me as a genuine being, it’s an honor to be seen this way. I’m asking Source for guidance to respond to you <3

I’ve had my fair share of disillusionment, of mismatch, of feeling I was too much, of not knowing how to compress myself enough to fit into the molds of those around me— love is no exception. I want you to know it’s not your fault, I want you to know this is a situation to learn from, to rise from. Attention is one of the greatest forms of energy and I need you to know that the person you were giving yours to withdrew from you because of how great it is, out of fear. There’s nothing wrong with you or him, you just flow upstream and he flows downstream, so to speak. Sometimes it works, but sometimes these two currents meet in the middle and cause a whirlpool. I know you feel it spinning. Don’t get pulled under. When you are ready, I need you to change the questions you are asking yourself, reflect on how you are so great and need to fight for no one’s attention, for no one’s love. Jah will not allow anyone to string you on, it had to go away, give thanks. You do not ever have to beg. Rejection is normal but believe you deserve that YES you are looking for by remembering your precious ability to love like no other. Never stop loving deeply, just give yourself time. I promise you will get better at identifying who is capable of the exchange you are looking for, once you identify it for yourself. You are no game. Baby, you are so big. This doesn’t make you any less than. You continue being big, with your big heart beating so loudly I hear it thru my screen.

I love you, too.

[sparrow-mask22]

The Umbrella Academy Story of The Mothers (4/8) umbrella edition: Rachel

TW: childbirth, mentions of stillbirth/pregnancy loss, mentions of religious trauma, signs of Klaus being a cult leader from the minute he was born, grief (also the whole "village is being invaded" quote is a reference to an AO3 story called 'The Dragon and the Butterfly' it’s an Encanto meets How to Train Your Dragon story)

October 1, 1989. Lancaster Pennsylvania. 40 seconds before noon.

Rachel Herschberger, a 25-year-old woman, lived in an Amish village since she was a child. She had a deep connection with nature and simple life, which was why she chose to stay in the village even after she came of age. Rachel was sitting on a wooden bench outside her house, watching the sunset paint the sky with vibrant hues of red and orange. The air was filled with the sweet smell of freshly baked bread and the sounds of horses clopping on the cobblestone street.

Rachel’s younger sister, Sara-Beth, walked up to her, a basket of freshly picked apples in her arms. "The harvest was bountiful today," she said with a smile, setting the basket down beside her sister. "The applesauce will be sweet this winter." Rachel nodded, her gaze still fixed on the breathtaking sunset. "Jah," she replied softly, her voice filled with contentment.

As the colors of the sky deepened, the village began to quiet down. The horses were taken to their stables, children were tucked into bed, and the adults retreated to their homes. Rachel stayed out a little longer, enjoying the peacefulness of the night. She leaned back against the rough-hewn wood of the bench, hazy memories still haunted her: Waking up and feeling no kicks from the baby inside her, the village doctor feeling no signs of life. It was as if her child had vanished into thin air.

Faraway words rang in her ears: “I'm sorry….no movement…no heartbeat…thirty-five weeks….”

Rachel couldn't shake the feeling that her child was still out there somewhere, waiting for her. She knew it was against the Amish way to question the will of God, but she couldn't help but wonder if she had done something wrong. Maybe she should have prayed more, been a better example to her unborn child.

"Sister, you look like you have seen a ghost," an elderly woman said, approaching Rachel and Sara-Beth. Her name was Katherine, and she had been the midwife at Rachel's birth. "Is there something you'd like to talk about?" she asked gently, sitting down on the bench beside Rachel.

(Yay more foreshadowing! :D)

Rachel hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond to the elderly midwife's gentle prodding. She glanced at her sister, then back at Katherine, and finally decided to confide in her. "It's about my child, Katherine," she said softly, her voice trembling slightly. "I...I lost it. The baby died inside me, and I just don't understand why. I feel like I've done something terrible, and I can't stop thinking about it."

Katherine reached out and patted Rachel's hand reassuringly. "Oh, my dear," she said, her voice filled with sympathy. "I am so sorry for your loss. It is not your fault. These things sometimes happen, even among the Amish. We must have faith that God has a plan for us, even when we cannot understand it."

Rachel looked at Katherine, her eyes filled with hope. "Do you think so?" she asked hesitantly. "That God has a plan for me and my baby?" The elderly midwife nodded solemnly. "Jah, I do. You must trust in His wisdom and know that He will guide you through this difficult time. He does not give us more than we can bear."

Sara-Beth, who had been sitting quietly beside them, spoke up. "You should come with me to see the wise woman, Rachel. She has helped many of us find peace after a loss. Perhaps she can offer you some guidance." Rachel considered her sister's words for a moment, feeling a small spark of hope ignite within her.

The next day, Rachel and Sara-Beth made their way to the wise woman's cabin. It was nestled in the woods outside of the village, surrounded by a garden full of herbs and flowers. As they approached, they could hear the gentle hum of her voice as she chanted, her words carrying on the breeze.

The wise woman was an elderly woman named Esther, with kind eyes and a knowing smile. She invited them into her cozy cabin, where the scent of sage and lavender filled the air. "Come, sit down," she said, gesturing to a pair of comfortable chairs by the fireplace. "Tell me what brings you here today."

Rachel hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to begin. She took a deep breath and forced the words out. "I lost my child," she said, her voice barely audible. "I don't understand why it happened. I feel so lost and confused."

Esther nodded, her eyes filled with compassion. "I'm sorry for your loss, my dear. It is a great sadness that no one can truly understand until they have experienced it themselves." She reached over and took Rachel's hand in hers, offering her a small measure of comfort. "Please, tell me more about your child and your pregnancy. It may help you to find some clarity."

As Rachel spoke, Esther listened intently, her eyes never leaving Rachel's face. She asked about the pregnancy, the birth, and the time leading up to the loss. Sara-Beth added her own observations and memories, as well. When Rachel had finished, Esther took a moment to collect her thoughts before responding.

"It seems that your child was born with a rare condition," she said solemnly. "One that made it impossible for them to survive outside the womb. This was not something that you could have prevented, Rachel. It was simply bad luck. There is nothing you could have done differently."

Rachel nodded, her eyes filling with tears. "I know," she whispered. "But it doesn't feel like luck. It feels like punishment."

Esther gave Rachel's hand a reassuring squeeze. "I understand," she said gently. "It can be hard to accept that sometimes these things happen without any clear reason. But we must remember that we cannot always understand the ways of God. We must have faith that there is a purpose to our suffering, even if we cannot see it now."

"Perhaps," she said, "your child's short life served a greater purpose. Perhaps they were meant to be a blessing to you and your family, even if it was only for a brief time. They brought love and joy into your life, even if it was cut short. And now, as you grieve, you have the opportunity to honor their memory by living a life that is worthy of them. By being the best person you can be and sharing your love with those around you."

However, in the middle of Esther's speech, Rachel's heart hardened. She felt as though she had been told to simply accept her child's death as part of some grand plan, as though their short life had no meaning beyond serving as a lesson or teaching tool for those left behind. The thought made her angry and resentful. She looked at Sara-Beth, hoping her sister would understand, but Sara-Beth's face was filled with something Rachel had never seen before: peace.

But then, the clock struck twelve. Rachel immediately began writhing on her knees, clutching her stomach as she did a month ago. Sara-Beth's eyes widened in horror as her sister's belly swelled before their very eyes. It was as though Rachel had been impregnated by some unseen force, a bizarre twist of fate that defied all logic and reason. The pain was excruciating, and Rachel could feel something moving inside her, fighting its way out. Her screams rent the air, piercing the silence of the night.

"Oh my God," Sara-Beth whispered, her face ashen. She reached out to her sister, but hesitated, unsure of what she could do to help. The pain in Rachel's eyes was worse than any physical agony she had ever witnessed. It was as though her very soul was being ripped apart.

Esther, too, was frozen in place, her mind racing to understand what was happening. This couldn't be real. It couldn't be happening. And yet, there it was, unfolding before their very eyes. She tried to speak, to offer some words of comfort or reassurance, but nothing came out.

"Sara-Beth, get help!" Rachel gasped between contractions. "Get Katharine or someone, please!" Sara-Beth stumbled back, her eyes wide with fear and disbelief. She looked to Esther, hoping that the older woman might have some explanation for what was happening. But Esther's face was filled with the same confusion and horror.

The pain in Rachel's abdomen grew more intense with each passing moment, and she could feel something pushing its way out. She clutched her belly, her fingernails digging into her skin as she fought against the overwhelming urge to scream. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body shuddering with the effort of expelling whatever it was that was growing inside her.

Sara-Beth returned to the cabin, her eyes still filled with disbelief. She found Katharine, who was a midwife, and frantically explained what had happened. Katharine hurried back to the cabin, her face a mask of professional calm. She knelt beside Rachel, feeling her abdomen, checking her pulse, and listening to her breathing. The pain in Rachel's eyes was unbearable, but she forced herself to focus on Katharine's voice, telling her what to do, how to breathe.

"I can’t lose another child, Katharine," Rachel whimpered, her voice barely audible above the pain. "Please, you have to save it." Her words were desperate, pleading, as though her very life depended on the survival of the child she was birthing. Katharine nodded, her expression grim.

Chancellor Jory, the leader of the village, stood near the cabin, watching in horror as Rachel struggled through labor. He had never seen anything like it, and the realization that she had somehow become pregnant just a month after losing her child sent a shiver down his spine. He glanced at the midwife, Katharine, who was doing all she could to save both mother and child. He wished there was more he could do to help, but he knew that it was best to leave them alone and let the experienced midwife handle the situation.

Rachel screamed in agony as another contraction gripped her, her body arching back in pain. She felt something warm and wet slide out of her, and she knew that it was the baby. She forced herself to push one more time, her muscles burning with the effort. With a final, guttural cry, she expelled the child from her body. It landed on the ground with a wet thud, its tiny limbs twitching spasmodally.

Katharine raised the child to the heavens, her eyes filled with wonder and disbelief. "A boy!" she exclaimed, her voice breaking with emotion. The villagers, who had gathered around the cabin, gasped in shock and awe. They had never heard of such a thing happening before.

Rachel lay there, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she stared down at the tiny form that lay beside her. The pain had finally begun to subside, but exhaustion and shock were quickly taking their toll. She reached out a trembling hand and gently touched the baby's downy hair. "My sweet child," she whispered, her voice hoarse from the ordeal. "You are a miracle."

Chancellor Jory knelt beside her, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief. "Rachel, I don't know how this is possible," he said, his voice barely audible above the soft rustling of the leaves in the breeze. "But I am glad that you and the baby are safe." He glanced over at Katharine, who was still cradling the child in her arms, examining him carefully.

The villagers, their faces a mix of shock and wonder, began to gather around them, whispering amongst themselves. They had never seen anything like this before, and they knew that it was a miracle that both mother and child had survived. Some of the women in the village, their own children held tightly to their sides, began to weep silently, unable to comprehend the magnitude of what had just happened.

Rachel gently lifted the tiny form to her breast, guiding his mouth to her nipple. She closed her eyes, her face a mask of tenderness as she began to stroke his downy hair. The air was filled with the soft sounds of suckling, as if nature herself was trying to soothe them after the ordeal they had been through.

Chancellor Jory watched the scene unfold before him, his heart swelling with a mixture of pride and disbelief. He had never experienced anything like this in his life, and he found himself struggling to find the right words to express his feelings. He glanced over at Katharine, who was still examining the baby, her face a mask of wonder.

The voices of the villagers, normally soft and hushed, began to rise in alarm as they realized that someone unfamiliar was in their midst. Children's eyes widened with fear, and adults instinctively drew their families closer, watching the stranger with suspicion. Even the livestock, normally docile and unafraid, began to stir restlessly in their pens and stalls.

"Supposedly there's an outsider in the village…"

"There's an invader in the village?"

"THE VILLAGE IS BEING INVADED?!"

A young boy, no older than ten, sprinted through the center of the village, his voice shrill with fear. The words echoed through the village, causing a stir among the gathered crowd. Some of the women began to wail, clutching their children to their chests as they scanned the horizon for any sign of an invading force. The men, their faces set in grim determination, formed a loose perimeter around the group, eyes darting this way and that, searching for a threat.

The outsider, an elderly man with a British accent, took a step forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "Now, now," he said, his voice calm and soothing. "There's no need for alarm. I mean no harm to anyone here. My name is Reginald Hargreeves, and I'm searching for a child born in this village several hours ago." He glanced at Chancellor Jory, who nodded in confirmation. "The mother has given stillbirth last month, and she has been... concerned about the child's well-being ever since."

The villagers, slowly beginning to relax, exchanged uncertain looks. The young mother, still cradling the baby, stepped forward. "You're here to take him away?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Yes," Reginald replied, his voice gentle. "I assure you, I only mean to give the child a loving home. His mother's situation is... untenable, to say the least. And he deserves a better life than she could ever give him."

Rachel, tears streaming down her face, nodded slowly. She looked up at Chancellor Jory, then back at Reginald, her hands still clutching the baby to her chest. "I-I don't understand," she stammered. "Why would you want him? He's not even yours."

Reginald's expression softened. "No, he's not mine by birth," he said gently. "But he is one of many special children born today of mothers like you, Rachel. Women who were not pregnant when the day began, but who found themselves with a child to care for at the end of it. He is a miracle, Rachel, and he deserves a life filled with love and opportunity. You've given him the best start you could, and now it's time for him to move on to the next stage of his life."

The old man's words hung in the air, each one like a weight on the villagers' shoulders. Some looked relieved, others angry, but no one could deny the truth in what he was saying. Rachel, her face still streaked with tears, slowly released her grip on the baby, handing him over to the outsider. As she did so, she felt a strange mixture of sadness and hope welling up inside her.

"Your son will have a wonderful life with us, Rachel," Reginald assured her, cradling the baby in his arms. "He will grow up with a well education, around the clock nanny care, and siblings of his own age. He will be loved and cherished as our own." As he spoke, the other villagers began to nod in agreement, some even offering their own words of comfort.

The baby, swaddled in a soft blanket, let out a small coo, his eyes fluttering shut. The sight was enough to bring a small smile to Rachel's face, despite the knot in her stomach. She looked up at Chancellor Jory, who seemed to be studying her expression intently. "It's all right, Rachel," he said softly. "You've done the best you could."

Reginald, the man who had come to take her child, nodded in agreement. "Yes, you have been a wonderful mother to him," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "But now it's time for him to move on to the next stage of his life." He paused, and Rachel could sense the threat underlying his words. "I must remind you, Rachel," he continued, "not to contact him or attempt to find him in any way. If you do, it will not end well for you."

Her heart sank at his words, but she knew there was nothing she could do. She had no choice but to let her son go. As she watched them walk away with her precious child, her body trembling with the weight of her loss, she tried to focus on the good that would come of it. At least he would be safe and loved, she told herself. At least he wouldn't have to grow up in poverty and hardship.

But there she was, reeling from the loss of another child, unable to shake the fear that the man's warning was nothing more than an empty threat. She tried to find solace in the fact that her son was now safe, but the ache in her heart only grew more unbearable with each passing moment. As she watched them disappear into the crowd, she felt as though a part of herself was being ripped away.

[pastorelpa]

Psalm 68:4-6

Compassionate to all

Dear Lord, I come before You with a heart full of gratitude and praise. Thank You for setting the lonely in families and bringing freedom to those bound in chains, for Your restorative power and boundless love. Help me to reflect Your heart in my life, caring for those in need and seeking justice for the oppressed. Help me to stay away from rebellion and guide me into the abundant life You offer. Thank You for Your everlasting compassion and justice.

Sing unto God, sing praises to his name: extol him that rideth upon the heavens by his name Jah, and rejoice before him. A father of the fatherless, and a judge of the widows, is God in his holy habitation. God setteth the solitary in families: he bringeth out those which are bound with chains: but the rebellious dwell in a dry land. (Psalm 68:4-6)

The Lord is compassionate and majestic, for He is eternal. He is caring for all who needs care and guidance. He won't let you alone in your suffering, He is indifferent, but makes sure you will have a community, makes sure You will be defended and cared for. He sees you and loves you. He listens to your cries. His grace is a shield for the weak and His mercy a balm for the wounded. The Lord lifts the humble and strengthens the weary. His love is an everlasting river, flowing through the hearts of those who seek Him. He guides the steps of the righteous and leads them to a place of peace. His light dispels the darkness and His truth endures forever. His promises are steadfast and His faithfulness reaches to the heavens. Let all who seek refuge in Him be glad for He is our rock and our salvation. He gathers His children under His wings and protects them from harm. His love is our comfort, and His presence is our joy.

In these verses we encounter the majestic and compassionate nature of our God, a God who is both transcendent in His glory and tender in His care for the most vulnerable among us. We are called to worship with joy and reverence. We are called to sing unto God, to lift our voices in praise of His holy name. Our worship is a joyful response to the greatness and goodness of our Creator. God is described as "he that rideth upon the heavens," a vivid image of His sovereign power and majesty. When we call out His name, "Jah", which is a shortened form of Jehovah, we acknowledge His eternal existence and supreme authority. This act of rejoicing before Him is a declaration of our trust and delight in His divine rule.

The compassionate heart of God is revealed in "A father of the fatherless, and a judge of the widows, is God in his holy habitation.". He is not distant or indifferent to the suffering of His people. Instead, He is a father to the fatherless and a defender of widows. In ancient times, orphans and widows were among the most vulnerable members of society, often neglected and oppressed. Yet God, in His holy habitation, is deeply concerned for their well-being. God’s justice is not abstract, it is personal and tender. He steps into the brokenness of our world to provide care and protection for those who have no one else to defend them. This truth is a source of great comfort for us today. No matter how isolated or vulnerable we may feel, we can trust that God sees us, loves us, and will act on our behalf.

We can see the restorative and redemptive work of God in "God setteth the solitary in families: he bringeth out those which are bound with chains.". He takes the lonely and places them in families, providing them with love and community. This speaks to the deep human need for connection and belonging, a need that God is eager to fulfil. He liberates those who are bound with chains. Whether these chains are physical, emotional, or spiritual, God is a God of deliverance. He breaks the bonds of oppression and sets the captives free. This is the heart of the Gospel message: liberation from sin and death through the saving work of Jesus Christ.

The final clause of this verse serves as a sobering reminder of the consequences of rejecting God’s ways. While God’s desire is to bless and restore all, those who harden their hearts and persist in rebellion will find themselves in a dry and barren place. This dryness is not just physical but also spiritual, representing a life devoid of the richness and abundance that comes from a relationship with God. We are invited to a profound understanding of God’s character. He is mighty and majestic, worthy of all our praise. Yet, He is also compassionate and just, caring deeply for the vulnerable and the ones that feel lost. He invites us into His family, breaks our chains, and offers us a life of fullness and joy. Let us respond to this invitation with hearts full of gratitude, singing praises to His name and living in the light of His love. May we also reflect His heart in our own lives, caring for the vulnerable and seeking justice for the oppressed. And let us choose the abundant life that comes from walking in His ways.

Amen

With love, Pastor Elpa

[bg3-aita]

AITA for asking one of my Chosen to honor the most basic term of our agreement?

It is absolutely degrading to have to do this, but the mortals of Faerûn demand an explanation. I am only doing this so that you all will be gratified and I can finally go back to my actual purpose, which is maintaining the very fabric of reality through the threads of the Weave, instead of suffering the bombardment of my domain’s prayer channels to listen to the harassment of mortals who think they know better than a god.

I have been unjustly dubbed “The Asshole” for asking one of my Chosen (35m) to adhere to one of the most basic terms of our relationship as deity and Chosen—obedience. 

I suppose the mortals demand context? Very well. As a goddess it is my duty to ensure that the world does not fall to abject destruction, for a myriad of reasons, some of which are unknowable by mortal minds. However, we gods cannot personally intervene on the affairs of the Material Plane. Therefore, we select a few Chosen mortals to act in our stead. And we expect them to listen to us.

One of my Chosen happens to be uniquely…gifted, shall we say. At the time I selected him to become one of my Chosen, he was one of the brightest and most talented wizards of his age. Our relationship grew into something more. He had earned my favor in more ways than one, and so I rewarded him duly. I rewarded him greatly.

But he was arrogant and impatient. He made a series of reckless and unwise decisions without my permission or guidance and found himself nearly consumed by a corrupted magic that threatened the fabric of reality. Had I not stepped in and altered it, the magic would not only have destroyed him, it would have threatened all magic in existence. What did I get as thanks? Nothing but feeble excuses. 

Admittedly, I was angry. Clearly I couldn’t trust him anymore. So I cut him off. Entirely. He could still use what little magic he had left to him, but my favor? No. I decided the best way to get him to apologize was to freeze him out, so I did.

He spent the next year licking his wounds while I waited for him to come cowering back with an apology for what he had done, but ue never did. Unfortunately or fortunately, before I could get my apology, he was dragged into a recent conflict involving mind flayers of all things.

This was actually as convenient as it was inconvenient. This conflict threatened catastrophe for all gods, all of reality. Realizing I had a unique opportunity to influence these events and stop them from happening, I broke my silent treatment and asked my Chosen to do one simple thing: obey me and harness the power of the corrupted magic inside him to put an end to this illithid threat. All it would cost him was his life, but in return, the reward would be great. Do this, and he would be forgiven for his recklessness and I would welcome his soul into my domain after his death. An eternity in Elysium, rather than in the Fugue Plane awaiting judgment. That's an honor for any wizard, but clearly he didn't see it that way. He ignored my commands, and now everyone is saying I'm in the wrong.

Look at it from my perspective. If he had listened, I would have gotten rid of two threats in one go—the illithid threat and the corrupted magic threat. All at the cost of a single mortal life. I’m no devil, but I’d say that’s a bargain.

Apparently this makes me “The Asshole.” I suspect I can chalk that up to a mortal’s limited understanding, but nevertheless, I offer myself up for judgment. So, Faerûn…AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[boricuacherry-blog]

Rainford Hugh "Lee" Perry was born on March 20, 1936, in the rural sugar-cane fields of Kendal, Jamaica. The third of four children, Perry grew up watching his mother perform the Ettu dance - a ceremony held to commune with the spirits of the afterlife in which the devotees enter trancelike states. At 20, according to his biography, People Funny Boy, by David Katz, Perry left his village, eventually finding his way to the teeming capital of Kingston, where he got a job running errands at Studio One, the Motown of Jamaica. Perry worked his way through the organization by writing catchy songs like "Chicken Scratch," the popular dance anthem that gave him his nickname. In 1966, Perry left Studio One and subsequently produced the song "The Upsetter," marking the birth of his incendiary alter ego. In 1969, walking by a church, Perry was mesmerized by the soulful sound of the congregation's music. Inspired, he recorded "People Funny Boy" - a track widely credited as one of the first reggae songs. Decades before "sampling" became the norm, the tune featured a baby crying, hinting at Perry's future sonic surrealisms. "Reggae is a useful exercise I created to get the people skipping," Perry says.

That same year, a young and frustrated Bob Marley returned to Jamaica from the United States, where he had been working in a Delaware auto factory. After regrouping with bandmates Peter Tosh and Bunny Wailer, Marley came to Perry seeking musical and spiritual guidance. In Marley, Perry found the consummate vocal counterpart of the Upsetter sound. Under Perry's mentorship, who Ziggy Marley says was instrumental in his father's career, Marley recorded some of his early songs. However, when Perry allegedly sold the Wailers' music to a British label, the Wailers acrimoniously split from him and recorded "Trench Town Rock" as an insult to Perry.

The only surviving member of Marley's original band, Bunny Wailer, still holds a grudge. "Lee Perry did nothing for the Wailers," Wailer says. "He just sat there in the studio while we played our music, and then he screwed us. We never saw a dime from those albums we did with him. Records that other people have made millions from. Lee Perry's ignorance cost us a lot of money, and I never forgave him."

For his part, Perry says, "I'd rather not talk on Bunny Wailer - he's a miserable person."

Whatever their differences, for the rest of his life Marley would return to Perry in search of inspiration, advice and to occasionally collaborate on songs like "Jah Live." "The only person Bob worked with whom he really respected was Lee Perry," says Chris Blackwell, who would assume production responsibilities for the Wailers from Perry. Blackwell had the band re-record many of the original Perry tracks, removing some of the grit, weirdness and mysticism from songs like "Duppy Conquerer" and "Small Axe" for release in the U.S., taking Marley and reggae music into the mainstream.

In 1973, Perry built his legendary Black Ark Studio, a small backyard bunker behind his home in Kingston, and embarked on a five-year period of around-the-clock production increasingly fueled by marijuana and alcohol. Black Ark would become the birthplace of countless reggae and dub classics.

In 1976, as political turmoil erupted in Jamaica, Perry produced the classics War Ina Babylon with Max Romeo and Police and Thieves with Junior Murvin. The albums catapulted him into national acclaim. After the Clash covered "Police and Thieves," Perry worked as their producer in London, and was swept up by the punk scene. Inspired by the new sound and energy, Perry co-wrote "Punky Reggae Party" for Bob Marley. "If I want to spit here, I spit here," Perry has said. "If I want to piss there, I piss there. I am punk."

In 1978, Perry, who was always wildly eccentric, suffered a dramatic mental breakdown after his wife left him for a Rastafarian studio musician. The grounds of his property were cluttered with Rasta sycophants, and he was being extorted by the local gangs. Perry became convinced that Rastafarians were to blame. He rode through Kingston with a rotting, maggot-infested slab of pork as a hood ornament. He began to paint obsessively, covering the property with incoherent graffiti. In 1983, in the depth of his madness, convinced the studio was possessed by evil spirits, Perry set the Black Ark studio ablaze. He entered into a deep depression, and as a result blew $25000 on an antique set of silverware.

He is now content though. His one complaint in life is that he lacks rivalry. "You don't get to where you need to get without competition," he says. He has not driven a car in 30 years, but sometimes he gets restless, and will have someone drive him down to a 14th century monastery where, in hopes of unsettling the priests, he walks into the chapel with a giant snowball on his head.

Perry's teenage son and daughter, Gabriel and Shiva, saunter into the room. Perry has at least eight children with four women. He signals to his daughter: "She's 20, and she's a virgin. She knows what men want. She has to stay with us, forever!" Shiva shakes her head, unfazed by her father's humor. Perry also laments that he would be dead without his Swiss wife. He no longer smokes or drinks, but his wife still needs weed.

[widefuturesss]

‘Each time my search for true love leads me to the gates of hell...’, Thank you Ms. Angelou for dealing with heart break. Thank you for coming to say ‘I love love and I love loving love’. Chineke oo, jah is good - I said i was looking for guidance and you, my ancestor, wrote me this letter. It’s crazy cause I woke up this morning writing ‘always heartbroken but love is 2 b experienced, 2 b experienced’. ‘Go out and transform your world’, I have taken what I need Ma, I have also chuckled at your disapproving gaze on piercings... I think my lip ring would grow on u tho. Thank you, I needed dis --------- (In response to Letter to my daughter by Maya Angelou, from the widefuturesss drive)

[jahfinancialservices]

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[carteadoimanobrinhas]

música

@Jah Guidance

[plural-aita]

AITA for not being open to my plural best friend about questioning endogenic plurality? (tl;dr at bottom)

I've been questioning if I was a system for a few weeks after my friend realized she had OSDD. I'm mainly tackling the research alone with the guidance of a few people online, but I usually tell my best friend this sort of stuff, I mean it's pretty important.

Recently (as in a few months ago), me and my friend got into a fight about endogenics. She didn't really try to say they weren't valid but I'm strictly pro-endo and she basically said she didn't support them and sent me a lot of clearly anti-endo resources (including the infamous carrd) so I just really don't feel comfortable telling her that I'm questioning endogenic plurality, at least not until I'm sure.

I don't know, she shares everything with me so I feel like I'm betraying her trust if I don't tell her this very major thing. I don't inherently think she's anti-endo, more endo-neutral, but me being endogenic would force her to take a stance. Maybe it's my anxiety speaking but I'm worried she'll take an anti-endo stance. Doesn't mean I don't feel guilty about not telling her.

So, AITA?

-🐺🪐🐚

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for not helping my brother unlearn some hate?

I (16F) and my brother (9M, let's call him K) are both from a third world country with some less-than-friendly general views, most of which my parents agree with. I couldn't care less if my mom is vividly disgusted at Chinese/Korean products/music or if she wholeheartedly believes that having crushes on your female friends is "normal" and "not homosexuality", because she's a really kind and sweet person and I just love her, you know? She never voices these thoughts around people who are that way and even has Chinese friends herself, but once I ask her "what do you think your friends would feel if they knew you said things like that sometimes?" to which her response was basically "it's not like I'll ever say it to their face, that's rude, and I don't think they're any less humans than us, their country taking over the industrial world and music is just disgusting". Or she immediately demands the channel be changed if the tv is showing an LGBT couple (this is illegal in our country, we connect to foreign satellites which don't censor this).

Anyway. Sorry for the ramble. This leads me to two problems:

My brother is kinda short and skinny due to genetics. And when I say "kinda", I mean like, he's really, really small and tiny for his age and often gets mistaken for a preschooler or first grader. My mother worries over the fact that the boys at his school (since we're all being raised in the same toxic society, huzzah) bully him for being smaller than them. And K has a tendency to easily cry at insults, furthering this issue. I've talked to him several times on how he'll get a growth spurt and it's fine, but my mom's talks mainly consist of how he's a grown boy now and it's not nice for boys his age to cry in public like that. She also doesn't really like me getting "involved" in K's bullying issues. Please, PLEASE don't send any hate to my mom, okay guys? She's one of the best people I know.

The other issue here is that K technically IS growing up, but he's also learning some of the really uncomfortable aspects of this society by repeating things like "the referee for this soccer game probably let the other team win because he's Chinese" (to which I had to correct him and say the referee was actually Filipino, but never mind) or asking me with GENUINE curiosity if I, as a girl, play soccer at my school (he loves soccer so so much, I try to encourage this love for him).

I correct him on this stuff as much as I can, but honestly... sometimes I just don't. Sure, I think it's bad and all, but I (probably, I don't remember much) grew up being the same way considering the way our society is. And if I turned out nice enough, I'm sure he just needs to be the right age for some more technical guidance and all I can do here is randomly tell him he's wrong when he says this stuff. My mom just... she thinks it's a huge stretch to "call everything racism nowadays", which I think REALLY depends on the context! My brother says this stuff very, very rarely, but I don't think he really... gets /why/ it's bad, you know? Again, I'm mostly planning on giving him advice on occasion and letting him figure it out by himself, but I don't want him saying racist/antisemitic/sexist jokes by accident in public, less so because it might humiliate the family and more so because it might actually upset someone.

Again, WIBTA? Don't call my mom the asshole here, please. She's super extremely polite to everyone, calls for action against our dictatorship of a government, and gives medical care to her less financially stable patients for free (she's a doctor). She just has some little views here and there that are the result of her upbringing, same as ours are the result of what we experienced. I can wholeheartedly forgive her for that.

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for trying to impress my mentor/girlfriend?

I (M35) am an accomplished and powerful mage, enough so to catch the eye of an goddess I'll call Ex (F Uncountably ancient, F2000-ish, F160 or F134 depending on how exactly you count), who took me on as her student, and then later as her lover.

My talents flourished under her guidance, but eventually I reached a point in my studies where she was unwilling to guide me further, fearing that I would reach beyond my grasp. So I hoped to impress her by finding and returning to her an ancient lost shard of her essence, from a bygone age when she had much greater power.

I searched the distant reaches of the astral plane until I found it, and absorbed it into myself, destroying my powers and nearly killing me in the process. Ex was incensed, and immediately broke up with me and went no-contact for years, which was doubly traumatic given that she was also my primary deity.

Admittedly, I was meddling in dangerous primordial forces of magic, but I contained it, and I was merely trying to return a part of Ex to herself. She has yet to explain why she was so upset.

AITA?

[mondoradiowmse]

11/08/23 Mondo Radio Playlist

Here's the playlist for this week's edition of Mondo Radio, which you can download or stream here. This episode: "Put the Pressure On", featuring classic reggae and dub. If you dig it, don't forget to also follow the show on Facebook and Twitter!

Artist - Song - Album

Keith Blake - Musically - Joe Gibbs Scorchers From The Early Years (1967-73)

Errol Dunkley - The Scorcher - Joe Gibbs Scorchers From The Early Years (1967-73)

The Actions - Giddy Up - Studio One Rocksteady, Vol. 2: Rocksteady, Soul And Early Reggae At Studio One

The Paragons - Change Your Style - Studio One Rocksteady, Vol. 2: Rocksteady, Soul And Early Reggae At Studio One

Bob Marley And The Wailers - Soul Rebel - Soul Rebels

Bob Marley And The Wailers - Try Me - Soul Rebels

Horace Andy - Just Say Who - Skylarking

Horace Andy - Every Tongue Shall Tell - Skylarking

Burning Spear - Marcus Garvey - Ultimate Reggae

Keith Hudson - Tribal War - Furnace

Keith Hudson - I Have A Faith - Furnace

Toots & The Maytals - Louie Louie - Funky Kingston

Culture - Two Sevens Clash - Dirty Water: The Birth Of Punk Attitude

Peter Tosh - Burial - Legalize It

Mojo Wishbean & Trippy Squashblossum - Little Black Train - Hog Butcher For The World

U-Roy - Chalice In The Palace - Dread In A Babylon

I Roy - Thinking Cap - Many Moods Of I Roy

Jah T - Grandfather Land - The Sound Doctor: Lee Perry And The Sufferers' Black Ark Singles And Dub Plates 1972-1978

Pat Francis - King Of Kings - The Sound Doctor: Lee Perry And The Sufferers' Black Ark Singles And Dub Plates 1972-1978

Lee Scratch Perry - Version Train - Upsetter Shop, Vol. 1: Upsetter In Dub

Lee Scratch Perry - Noah Sugar Pan - Upsetter Shop, Vol. 1: Upsetter In Dub

The Congos - Sodom & Gomorrow - Heart Of The Congos

The Congos - Solid Foundation - Heart Of The Congos

Jacob Miller - Who Say Jah No Dread - Who Say Jah No Dread: The Classic Augustus Pablo Sessions 1974-75

Jacob Miller - Each One Teach One Version - Who Say Jah No Dread: The Classic Augustus Pablo Sessions 1974-75

Augustus Pablo - Up Warrika Hill - Original Rockers

Augustus Pablo - Jah Dread - Original Rockers

Herman Chin-Loy - Heavy Duty - Aquarius Dub

The Ethnic Fight Band - Out Of One Man Comes Many Dubs - Out Of One Man Comes Many Dubs

The Ethnic Fight Band - Portobello Road Dub - Out Of One Man Comes Many Dubs

Dub Specialist - Bionic Dub - Bionic Dub

Dub Specialist - Squash Dub - Bionic Dub

Scientist - Steppers Dub - Introducing Scientist: The Best Dub Album In The World …

Scientist - Chemistry Dub - Introducing Scientist: The Best Dub Album In The World …

King Tubby & Friends - Guidance Dub - Dub Like Dirt 1975-1977

King Tubby & Friends - Bag A Wire Dub - Dub Like Dirt 1975-1977

Inner Circle Meets Maximillian At Channel One - Down Rhodesia - The Rough Guide To Dub

Revolutionaries - Nuclear Bomb - The Rough Guide To Dub

[the-hem]

"The Weak Cows." From the Chandogya Upanishad, the Exploration of the Mysteries of the Priesthood.

Chapter IV − The Story of Satyakama

1  Once upon a time, Satyakama the son of Jabala addressed his mother and said: "Revered Mother, I wish to become a brahmacharin. Of what ancestry am I?"

2 She said to him: "I do not know, my child, of what ancestry you are. In my youth I was preoccupied with many household duties and with attending on guests when I conceived

you. I do not know of what ancestry you are. I am Jabala by name and you are Satyakama. So you may speak of yourself as Satyakama Jabala (the son of Jabala).

3 He came to Gautama the son of Haridrumata and said: "Revered Sir, I wish to live with you as a brahmacharin. May I approach you, as a pupil?"

4 Gautama said to him: "Of what ancestry are you, dear friend?" Satyakama said: "I do not know, Sir, of what ancestry I am. I asked my mother about it and she replied: ‘In my youth I

was preoccupied with many household duties and with attending on guests when I conceived you. I do not know of what ancestry you are. I am Jabala by name and you are Satyakama.’ I am therefore, Sir, Satyakama Jabala."

5 Gautama said: "None but a true bramin would thus speak out. Fetch the fuel, dear friend; I shall initiate you. You have not departed from truth."

He initiated Satyakama. Having separated out four hundred lean and weak cows from his herd, he said: "Dear friend, go with these."

Driving them away toward the forest, Satyakama said: "I shall not return until they become a thousand." He lived a number of years in the forest.

This is part of a series of stories on what happens to the four hundred weak cows and their owner, a Brahmacharya named Satyakama.

In Upanishadic and Vedic Lore you have to translate the names and define terms in order to know what is going on.

Satyakama (saht-ya-kah-muh) is  “truth loving”

Jabala (Jah-bah-lah)is “the offspring of one who love’s truth”

Gautama ( Go-tah-muh) means “poison”, “bile”, “gall stone in a cow” and “fat”. I will extrapolate and say it means a cowherd.

Haridrumata (huh-idt-roo-mah-tuh) which means “possessed of yellow salt” or turmeric, known for it medicinal properties.

Ignorance= the gall stones, the turmeric, knowledge, is the cure.

So Satyakama in a very unusual occurrence approaches a Reverend Mother for initiation. As we mentioned in earlier discussions the Text- the Vehicles for Understanding are always Mother.

She told him he was fine the way he was.

Then he approached a Brahmin, a landowner who had sickly cows and asked him also for initiation.

He told Satyakama to gather the wood, light the fire and he could become a Brahmacharya or a “person possessed of great dignity, discipline, and insight.”

“A truth seeker consulted the Scriptures for guidance, became humble before their instruction, this ignited the Fire of Knowledge which consumed his biases, and then he lived his life in the Light of that Fire.”

The Rishi is telling us we don’t need ceremonies of sacrifices or Gurus or fancy accoutrements to know what needs to Known and Understood about life.

Since Satyakama did not understand this, Gautama gave him the duty of raising some sick cows to health and growing the herd.

This means he asked him to teach the Scriptures and in the process learn himself. This is the only way to find the Center of the Truth, and all scipture states what this is. But first, one must endure the center of the forest.