Back to work post-Resurrection… all the shards of jaws dropped and shattered already swept up into jubilation mostly modest as far as public displays of affection go because persecution is still around the corner waiting for a cab. “Somethings different about you”, your colleagues note speaking through heavy coffee steam transported from humid tropics. “Did you go to Cuba for the weekend?” Cuba, Schluba! you smile a different radiance not reliant on air-travel, in fact quite content to stay at home locked in some sort of upper room for fear of wild fires and extreme weather, but altogether permeable to the entrance of a glorious friend gone cosmic suddenly back to get the forgotten keys to a new world order modest, of course, because capitalism is still around the corner selling bad-news papers. You’re part of this, too, you know: the work post-Resurrection. Same old desk, same old cubicle, but take a look at the light and tell me if it doesn’t shine less artificial. Cuba, Schluba! Nice place, no doubt, but the Kingdom of God has come nearer; one giant leap for mankind into a universe far and away less sexist and anthropocentric. You’ve been Son-tanned by three days of brilliant Trinity. So as soon as you boot up your old ball and chain, send yourself a gentle email reminder that now you’re under new management and all the best practices overnight just got even better. Follow your heart, that seaside shell echoing at your ear the two simple words as old as devotion and today brand, spanking relevant: “Follow me.”