One could assume many things go on between the tight weaves of growing sugar cane. Although none is necessarily sweet than what exists other than the combination of mingling mice mixed with the occasional dog or cat making their way through the labyrinth of wildly growing stalks.

I’d like to say it’s a sinister thing, and some could say it is, but in reality, it’s more pathetic than anything frightening.

I can’t say for sure how long it has been taking place nor the exact moment the invite was sent, let alone what paper it was printed on, but nevertheless, the devil himself has called high tea in the heart of the sugarcane fields.

I can’t truly say if it’s just this one field or if by some paranormal occurrence it’s every sugarcane field, but I can say there is at least one and the Devil resides there as consistently as the moon rises at dusk.

You might even be asking why the devil would even think of such a thing? Hightea? Why?

Honestly, I can’t say for sure since he doesn’t usually take out personal ads with an explanation of his interests anymore than writing a blog about what and why he reeks havoc. It’s quite peculiar being that the devil has a sweet taste for catfish and shit, but maybe he occasionally enjoys a little loose leaf.

I presume the display of high tea in this round was a choice way of being the ultimate cat to his unknowing mousey prey.

So, with all that being said, I can say with absolute, I wasn’t really surprised by this hellish little party, yet more like utterly amused, just as a frightened child might be upon discovering the monster under the bed was only a stuffed toy or misplaced shoe.

In my mind attending high tea with the queen and having mud smeared all over your hands whilst wearing a dirty dress with knotted and disheveled hair would be far more frightening than this little display of broken down China and tepid tea.

It’s really not frightening, unless watching a blind man sewing a quilt with sticks is the kind of torment that scares you.

You see, the devil is an aging man who has lost his charm long ago, along with any good looks or hair on his head. Simply put, he is nothing more than an old, washed up, sissyish man wearing poorly tailored suit, faded from the sun and dingey from the garage sale box he plucked it from. His companion, and current mouse Richard, is a man that prides himself in looking like Johnny Bravo while pretending he still thinks he is as glamorous as he was twenty years ago, when in fact he is as washed up as the devil that sits across that rickety little table from him.

Richard Cranium is every bit the sad little man who had the unfortunate slight of having one of those lying mirrors, you know the kind, they are the very ones where they tell you look younger, thinner and more beautiful than you are and if memory serves I believe there was a famous one in the fairytale Snow White.

Should the rose color be removed from the glass, I am afraid Richard would see a 43 year old man staring back with oversized dentures, hair plugs and too much sun while wearing a teenagers clothing. Poor Richard could then see the value of his time spent in a gym because he has made himself appear as an upside down pear, inflated at the top with nothing below but a stem.

You might think this tea party would be serving up delicious treats, but instead, the table is bare and the devil so rudly sips his tea from a chipped cup with his pinky out.

He laughs to himself watching his mouse believe he is merely there for his own enjoyment instead of understanding he is the scone the devil wants to so hungerly devour. The devil watches Richard with mocking eyes, wearing a shirt so small he can’t even button the last five buttons of his overly starched dress shirt. The devil snickers at his untucked half ajar shirt he paired with white washed jeans so torn and ripped they looked as if they had been eaten by a weedeater only moments before arriving.

Richard once again is out of place, even in a sugarcane field with the devil. He feigns a laugh and tried to make small talk but falls short upon discovering the tea has gone cold and his teeth are entirely too large for the dainty teacup provided for him. The devil grins as if he is but Richards greatest friend and gives him the suggestion to seek advice from the big bad wolf, “Perhaps Dick, you should ask that old wolf how to properly navigate oversized chompers around the fragile edge of a tea cup.” he laughs and of course Richard laughs too afraid to admit he was just insulted by the one he believes is his friend.

Instead, he pretends its all in good fun because ultimately Richard is a coward with no intention of ever asking that big, bad, scary wolf a single thing.

You see my friends, Richard is, and always will be, the joke, the ass end and butt the devil in a crappy suit uses for his own mirthful pleasure. Nothing in either of them is glamorous or frightening but yet merely pathetic.

The moral of this story is, well, there isn’t one but if there were it would be that Richard Cranium is nearing the point that the devil may decide he looks like a scone and eat him.

I have lived a thousand lives inside these twisted tales as they have weaved themselves in existence. Where has one story ended and another began? But, if only I could tell you, for that I do not know. I believe the transformation was slow and steady, but so subtle that not even the curiosity of watching eyes could see.

My breath leaves me a little with each pause and for a minute I began to wander.

We as humans have often experienced the moment, at a funeral, where everyone is gathering and says, “It shouldn’t be a funeral to get us all together.”

We all knod and agree, but yet we go on about our lives until another death happens, and another funeral comes to pass. It’s true, things happen in our daily lives where we have become all too busy to simply say hello to even a neighbor next door, let alone gather with our friends and family. We ignore our thoughts at the funeral and go on about our way thinking, I’ll do it tomorrow.

However, with all that said and in the midst of wondering myself about humanity on a whole, we have faced the ultimate funeral, covid – 19.

The entire world is mourning and yet even from a distance, albeit the media never shows this, people of all walks of life are banding together. Russians to Italians, America and the likes.

We read to our children on social media and teach school from the internet. People are singing from balconies, calling and checking on their families and sharing what supplies they have.

They want us to believe the worst possible things about our situation, but the truth is, even in the worst we as humans have reached out to hold each other’s hand. There isn’t a certain religion, race or belief system unaffected. It’s all of us. Young and old, men and women and that’s at its simplest form.

I have faith in the human existence because, even when there is the proverbial funeral, we have all showed up to gather. We have all made sacrifices to save each other and that means that covid 19 is not the enemy that killed us, it’s the thing that made us stronger.

Today, is one more day that is closer to the moment we can put this behind us. The question is, can we hold on to each other when it’s gone.

Let’s hope, that we can.

The power of thought is not merely some idea that exists inside an old hippies cedar trunk to be dismissed and forgotten. Dr. Emoto proved the idea, the energy of thought and use of words through his studies with molecular water crystals. But, if you don’t believe me, I empower you to see for yourself. It’s simple, take two bottles of water, label one with words like I love you and your beautiful. Talk to it. The second one, use negative words such as your ugly and I hate you. Say those words to it. Let it sit for a little while and then have someone taste them without knowing which is positive and which is negative. The taste alone will prove what the eye can’t see without special microscopes.

If you are wondering what all this has to do with life’s current situation, then let me explain. Our minds are bigger than our bodies. It posses a divine connection to our creator. Simply put, by using that positive frequency we can tap into our ability to be fed directly from God. Healing, health and life exists in the place where positivity thrives.

Fear breeds more fear, anxiety, greed and hatred. It taints our bodies just like a virus can taint our bodies with a parasite. It weakens our immune system, and leaves us more susceptible to earth bound illnesses.

What’s important right now, is focusing on the positive things. Happiness, joy, love and the very thought that you are strong, healthy and will be healed. You are safe.

I believe that when we keep our mind connected to God, just like Peter held fast to Jesus’s hand he didn’t sink, it was only when he let go that he started to find himself sinking into the depths.

Keep your mind clear. Keep it positive. It spreads faster than any virus. It heals hearts and brings hope to darkened corners. We are more powerful in numbers. When our minds join together in love and the belief that we will be taken care of, we will.

Throughout history, the devil has worn many faces. A face with a hulking, red body full of muscles, dark black hair and a trendy mustache. He is has been painted to look like a monster worthy of an Oscar for, Most Terrifying in a Visual Appearance. The Bible thumpers get on this boat with tales of his looks to scare children into going to sleep, having moral aptitudes or simply being a good little boy or girl. What they neglect to say is that the very man they have so vehemently pointed out as a demon of the worst nature, is the same man that sits in a pew next to them in church.

Let me tell you, the one thing those zealots got right was, the devil does indeed, drive a Cadillac. A black escalade to be precise. He isn’t menacing, hulking or massive nor his his face incredibly frightening. He isn’t red bodied either. In fact, he resembles an older Johnny Bravo with the appearance of more hair than he began with and a little to coifed. His teeth are a just touch big and way too white. He seems to forget that he is protaying himself as forty something and not an 18 year old by the ways of his white washed, skinny jeans that no man of stature should purchase with the sheer amount of holes torn precariously in the thigh and shin.

He smiles way more than anyone wants to see his over sized chompers and walks as if a corn cob or perhaps a hair brush has been inserted in his ass, causing him to use anal kegals to keep the item lodged inside.

This smallish devil enjoys charading around parking lots, waving to his pretend friends as if he had any friends although no one is looking. Well, now there is always the one guy who has more guilt than an actual convict and feels compelled to wave back but ultimately no one cares. Why is that? you might ask. That’s an easy answer. It’s because he looks like a cartoon character and not even one that is notable like scooby doo or mickey mouse.

Can you possibly imagine the world where parents will finally give up the shtick of the devil having a demon face and toss it out for the more fluidly neutral one like:OK little Mikey, you better go to bed early or the smallish, mid life crisis devil with over sized teeth and hair plugs just might grin you to death.

In my opinion, I would have thought the scarier version was more effective. But, I suppose the devil has become more binary these days. Masculinity has faded into the wind along with landlines and boob tubes.

This is all informational, and in good nature. The next time you fear the devil, you should faintly remember, he is just a smallish guy, in bad clothes.