The final Fall

When there are no clouds, you can see with sudden clarity. 

The brilliance of the autumn leaves,

the rusty reds, glowing oranges take your breath away.

Fills your heart with awe

at all this abundance of beauty. 

How does the dying of some small appendage

of a tree deserve to be dressed in such finery? 

Perhaps we too, as we approach the end

should summon up acts and deeds 

that shimmer and take the breath of others with their radiance? 

For us all, the final fall is coming.

"The betterment of the world can be accomplished through pure and goodly deeds and through commendable and seemly conduct."

Baha'i Writings

We have become so efficient in killing each other!

My grandfather who fought in World War I (1914-1918) and came back injured but alive was one of the lucky ones. The total loss of soldiers in that war was between nine and 11 million and the death toll among civilians was between 6 and 13 million. It is disheartening to find as you examine the incredible death count from wars that the numbers have huge margins of error. In war time the loss of a human life doesn’t even get recorded accurately. But even the vague upper and lower limits that are estimated blow the mind. 

If the loss of life in World War I was not horrific enough it was followed by World War II (1939-1945) in which the loss of life was even higher. In World War II between 21 and 25 million military personnel died but the death count among civilians was a shocking 50 and 55 million.

I wanted to look at deaths in wars from roughly the year 2000 and the table looks like this.  

I find it disturbing that,

a. We no longer have accurate figures for deaths from war (huge margins of error)

b. We no longer get robust reliable reporting on atrocities from war zones allowing more injustices to be perpetuated (often reporters are not allowed in)

c. Wars can last decades and break out again and again

d. Civil wars are particularly bloody in terms of deaths

e. The fact that rushing to make war rarely solves any problems long term seems never to be recognised by any side

f. Some countries in particular, like Sudan, are plagued with conflict again and again. The UN has described it as “one of the worst humanitarian nightmares in recent history”

However, horrifying the loss of life has been in these regional wars, another world war (World War 3) would be several orders of magnitude larger than anything ever encountered before in history.  We have become so efficient in killing each other that it is genuinely hard to get your head around the figures! A Princeton simulation called "Plan A" calculated that a nuclear war between the United States and Russia could result in 91.5 million casualties in the first few hours!  

Consider human ignorance and inconsistency. A man who kills another man is punished by execution, but a military genius who kills one hundred thousand of his fellow creatures is immortalized as a hero. 

‘Abdu’l-Bahá

Godspeed!

I tire of me do you tire of you? 

All the plans to improve and refine feel like feather chisels on rock. 

The ‘me’ remains unchanged. 

Stubborn and dark, unflinching in the face of a mighty desire for change. 

At times there is a small movement the boulder begins to shift, 

to turn agonisingly and roll up the steep slope. 

You feel the excitement of real change! 

I may not carve on this granite surface 

but perhaps I can elevate it 

with my shoulder to the edifice,

I feel momentum build. 

You have overcome the power of inertia and gained traction at last. 

The heart is exalted, 

what is not possible now? 

Then, your foot slips,

the boulder jerks back and runs down the hill. 

Laughing at its sudden freedom. 

You sink onto your knees in despair. 

All that effort and there is the result. 

The granite ‘you’ is even lower down the hill than when you began. 

It’s hard to begin the trudge downwards to begin again. 

But you will! 

This constant effort will take time and break your heart many times. 

You will want to give up many times,

and grow so strong in tackling this task

that you will barely recognise yourself. 

Such is life, Godspeed!

Alchemy of love

My son attended a parent-teacher meeting this week and the P1 teacher waxed lyrical about his youngest child. She pointed out that he was exceptionally loving and kind. Always full of joy and eager to volunteer in activities. The teacher said that a new Spanish student who spoke absolutely no English had joined their class and our grandson had appointed himself her guide and led her from one activity to another by hand. Floored by all this praise my son pushed the teacher to let him know what areas my grandson still needed to focus on and improve. Reluctantly, the teacher pointed out that he had not yet mastered the skill of holding a pencil! How sweet was that Scottish P1 teacher to focus on only the positives. A hug to all the hard-working teachers whose kindness and perceptions help rear noble souls.

My uncle in New Zealand is practically blind and every Friday his in-laws hold an evening meal where everyone starts the event by stating one thing they are particularly grateful for that week. All ages participate even the three-year year-old twins.  What a lovely way to end the week in such a positive tone. My uncle’s contribution was his gratitude for a young man who had spotted my uncle trying to navigate his way into a toilet cubicle in a busy restaurant. Realising he was finding it tricky the young guy helped him locate the door handle and even opened it. Then, when my uncle had finished, the same young man waited outside the cubicle and escorted him to the taps and then the dryer. My uncle said this unexpected kindness filled him with hope for this younger generation. A big thanks to the youth out there who have not forgotten to care for the vulnerable and provide a lesson to the rest of us.

Finally, I attended the funeral of a dear friend of mine from Omagh this year. She was one of those quiet folks whose presence was always strangely comforting. The funeral was high in the mountains in a forest 7 miles from the town. I had to trust the Sat Nav to find it along twisting forest roads. The venue was well hidden along a path in the woods. Despite this, I was shocked to find the room was absolutely packed with people. In fact, the staff kept having to add extra rows of chairs, one after another as more people flooded in. Just when they thought that that was it, another crowd arrived to pay their respects. So eventually wall-to-wall with others standing in the doorway and corridors they carried in the coffin and the entire room rose as one to their feet in silence as she was carried to the front of the room. Speaker after speaker spoke about her kindness and quietness. How acts of thoughtfulness were practised by her as a normal routine that had touched so many. We all became aware of just what a giant of love we had lost. The feeling of gratitude for a life well lived grew. 

Much thanks to all those quiet, selfless souls that operate beneath the radar but work their special alchemy of love in hearts across the world.

"Do not be content with showing friendship in words alone, let your heart burn with loving-kindness for all who may cross your path."

ʻAbdu'l-Bahá

Gertrude Remembered

I know it is sad to stand at a funeral and remember someone but in Gertrude’s case, she was really ready “to go to sleep and not wake up”, as she put it. She was indomitable and single-minded and not the confused elderly woman people often thought she was at first sight. I remember one ambulance man speaking over her head to me asking “Does she understand anything?” and Gertrude responding instantly in an annoyed, clear voice “I could buy and sell you!” She was over 104 and could remember sitting in the very first car in the town. There is a picture of her as a young girl in Portrush in the backseat of one of those early huge open-topped vehicles in the local chemist’s shop. Her father was chief fireman in Londonderry and she remembered the horse-drawn fire engines of those days. 

She had lived through both wars, was educated in Trinity College, Dublin and was fluent in both French and German. She ran her own private school in Portrush for many years and set herself high standards that students were expected to maintain. She was a good artist and could draw exceptionally well and wrote stories for children. Her carpentry was equally impressive. She made a wooden box for her father’s medals (and epaulettes) with a special glass front.  If you wanted to know more about Gertrude you had only to look at her handmade toolbox with each spotless instrument in its place positioned precisely.

Her attention to order in drawers and cupboards was extraordinary and when I would often tease her about the dust over every surface she replied that she did not mind the dust but everything had to be in its proper place. She knew every state in the US, the weather zones in the UK and the phone numbers of everyone she knew by heart. She was blessed with a fine mind and it never failed her not even to the last weeks of her life. Always clear, always articulate.

She kept us in the dark about her age, took 10 years off, and never received the Queen's card on turning a hundred. We all went on thinking of her as 10 years younger than she really was and she got away with this without any questions. The love of her life never returned from World War II and I often wondered if he had survived would she have gone on to have her own family and lead a completely different life? Wars take away so much from so many and even decades later loss and damage are still felt.

Gertrude always believed in the Big Bang Theory and felt that there was nothing after death. She wanted to believe there was an afterlife but could not rationally accept it. But she loved to hear others speak of heaven, to be assured of its existence and to have hope that she would meet those she had loved and lost in this life again. It is my prayer that she will be enjoying a reunion with her dearly loved father and other family and friends as well as her young lost love as we gather here to remember her and wish her well.

When our days are drawing to a close let us think of the eternal worlds, and we shall be full of joy!

‘Abdu’l-Bahá

storms

 

Spray painted for going out with the other side?

 

My Father had a scratch on his car and I figured I was the one to fix it. Having confidence but zero experience I sanded the surface smooth, used filler and then sanded again until it felt scratch-free once more. Satisfied that it was now time to apply the undercoat of paint I sensed I was on the last leg of this task and felt things were going really well. I retrieved the spray tin of paint that matched the metallic green of the car. My father had bought it some time ago to cover up the odd bang from shopping trolleys. It was an old tin and the nozzle had broken on the top. 

I quickly found another one from a different spray can and after removing the broken bit pushed the working one into place. Unfortunately, the can immediately sprayed across my face in a horizontal green stripe. It was like someone had painted a green bandana across my eyes from one side to the other.  The pain was extraordinary as the metallic paint got into my eyes.  Until that moment I was blissfully unaware that metallic paint is called this because it has roughly 1-part powdered metal to 50 parts paint.  I staggered into the house and frightened the life of my parents who could instantly see they had a problem on their hands.  My father ushered me quickly into the car I had just been working on and rushed me to the nearest hospital to Dungiven, which is Altnagelvin Hospital in Derry about 20 miles away.

We ended up in the busy A and E department which was packed with people all seeking help from medical personnel.  I couldn’t see them, as my eyes were tightly shut, but I could hear their voices and the busyness of the environment.  My father began explaining to those around us what had happened.  He took great pains to explain I had been working on his car when this accident had happened and added unnecessary details like the metallic green colour of his car and the spray tin.  Being in a lot of pain I was bewildered that over time as people left to be triaged and new occupants arrived in the A and E my father continued to retell the same story to this new captive audience.  Feeling embarrassed at what happened I began to resent the retelling of the disastrous paint job to so many strangers.  

Then the penny suddenly dropped.  At that time of the Troubles, as we called it, girls who went out with those of the opposite persuasion (ie Catholic or Protestant) were routinely tied up against lampposts or gates and covered in paint (green or orange) to shame them. My father was retelling the car fixing story as the majority of people in the A and E would automatically think I had been having a dalliance with someone across the cultural divide and had been punished accordingly.  

The green paint indicated to all that I was a protestant who had gone out with a catholic and had been punished for my sins.  This realisation changed things considerably for me.  Being eighteen and never having had a boyfriend of any persuasion I began to feel, despite the pain in my eyes, that I had accomplished a new status.  These people suspected that I had been having an affair and despite it not being true I felt their suspicions were a sign of confidence that I could be someone who could have hung out with some guy!  

On some strange level, I felt my station was higher than it had been earlier that morning before all this had happened.  I perversely wished I had dressed better for this outing and perhaps at least brushed my hair to suit the role they suspected.  The doctor in A and E carefully removed the green metallic pieces from my eyes using a long-handled cotton bud and it was amazing how many he had to take out.  He wasn’t concerned with the paint across my face, as he said it would wear off eventually.  So, I left the busy hospital with my eyes pain-free and a green strip across my face feeling like a new quite desirable woman.  It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good!