Isms…“A rising tide lifts all boats.”

Economies are a river, a lake, a tidal estuary.

They ebb and flow with the moon, the monetary system, the market, and luck, or lack.

The waters belong to everyone until the flow is dammed;
shared growth stymied by the hoarding of the few to starve and desiccate the many.
The only way we all survive, to blossom and bloom as a civilisation is to share the flow of wealth rather than pooling it all in the gilded heights and letting the many try to gather what they can
sip by sip as it trickles down to the low areas.
Where there is enough for all the few should not be drowning in it
while the many try to gather moisture from the arid sands of time.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

©17 May 2018

Sermon of the Day (17 December 2019)

I hate injustice, intolerance,
deception and self-serving in any form no matter who does it.

I am uncomfortable with broad strokes, putting people in niches, and unfair name-calling but I will not shy away from calling people out for misinformation, misappropriation, mismanagement, ignorance or exploitation

I believe in the importance of ethics and Justice over Law; Law over power, and the Power of the People over the power of gold and twisted and misinterpreted rules.

I do not accept shaming and name-calling as acceptable behaviour; insult and abuse as discourse, or calumny and defamation as truths. I can disagree and dislike without rising to lower myself to the level of those with whom I dissent,  distrust, or whose integrity I question.

I will call out, stand up, and stand my ground.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 17 December 2019

”The Fifth Horseman”

or The Horseman Named Chaos and Despair

The roaring in my blood is the thunder of the Wind

The pounding in my throat is the rhythm of the Wave

The rale within my chest is the throbbing of the Surf

The ringing in my ears is the siren of Alarm

The stillness in my mind is the silence of the Eye

The twitching in my limbs is the panic of the Mob

The burning in my eyes is the weeping of the Crowd

The stench within my nostrils is the anguish of Despair

The steam from out my lips is the poison come from Fear

I am the Horseman never named

I am Chaos

I bring beginning to the End. 

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 23 September 2005