A Gate Opens - I Hear a Voice.

The Pumphouse and the Devil

Tavie - my great aunt Octavia King - walked as a child from Georgia to Texas and back alongside a mule drawn wagon in the 19th century. Later, [much later] she sometimes took care of me as a child. She loved me dearly. In some ways, I was the child she never had. And of course I loved her and think of her often. 

Once, when I was about 6 or 8, Tavie understandably tried to scare me away from a dangerous place at my grandfather's farm - the pumphouse. So she told me that the devil lived in the pumphouse and would get me. She believed all that Hellfire and Brimstone stuff taught to all children in the Deep South and also believed in the necessity of scaring children from time to time.


But this warning may have had the opposite effect from what she intended - It created in me an urge to get a look for myself.  I came back later, looked in the  pumphouse, and found no devil.
Then I understood: The devil was bogus - and probably the rest of religion too !


So I began to wonder: How many other bogus things had I been taught? Or, on the other hand, maybe not all of religion was bogus. The religion I had been raised in taught conflicting things: "Love thy neighbor” but also "Kill everything that breathes.And it also taught of hearing the "still small voice". So I started by listening. 

As the devil faded away, I envisioned things beyond the pumphouse, 
                           a voice called, a gate opened and I stepped through:

Another great Brendan Graham song - The Voice - here performed by Lisa Kelly of Celtic Woman.

The Voyage Begins:

As a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, so now I was on my way on a voyage of discovery - unintended, certainly unexpected, but nevertheless a voyage like those of Columbus and Magellan, or Darwin sailing on HMS Beagle.


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© Gareth Harris 2017       --------        Contact email: garethharris@mac.com        --------         see also: GarethHarris.com