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!

Labours of Hercules and lessons learned

King Eurystheus set Hercules originally ten monumental tasks to achieve. Despite these being incredibly difficult, King Euythesus ultimately added two extra labours. He claimed Hercules had got help from others to accomplish one task and received payment for another.  In the legend, the king comes across as a petulant, frightened and mean-spirited man while the hero Hercules shines forth as an incredibly brave and heroic figure tackling unimaginable horrors to achieve victory despite the odds. Here, I look at just six of his tasks to see if there are lessons from these that can help us today.

Slaying the Nemean lion

The lion had fur that protected it from all arrows and Heracles, in order to kill the animal, had to lure it into a cave and block its entrance.  There in the darkness at close quarters he was eventually able to club and strangle the lion.  To skin the lion he had to use the animal's own claws as nothing else was powerful enough to cut through.  He was able to use the lion skin as a coat and use its protection in future tasks.

Lesson 1 

Sometimes in order to achieve your objective you must create an environment that suits your particular skills.  The more you accomplish the more informed you become at knowing how and where to make your stand.  

You can take from any conflict or achievement vital tools that will help you in future challenges.  If navigated well, even unexpected developments can help you emerge a stronger and more competent person.

Hydra-nine headed monster

Heracles covered his mouth and nose with a cloth to protect himself from the nine-headed Hydra monster’s poisonous fumes. Heracles discovered that when he successfully cut off one head two more heads grew in its place.  The only way to disarm the monster was to not only cut off the head but also to cauterise the remaining neck with a firebrand.  Heracles was assisted in this task by his nephew and although he succeeded Eurystheus used the fact that Heracles had not acted alone to justify adding an extra task.  By dipping his arrows in the Hydra's poisonous blood he managed to make his weapons much more powerful.

Lesson 2 

At times the environment in which you must work is so toxic you need to protect yourself to survive it.  Such a poisonous atmosphere needs to be recognised to stop it from overpowering you and making you incapable of functioning at all.

Tests often come back at you again and again.  Striking repeatedly and viciously they can even grow stronger and more numerous.  When this happens, it is important to spot the similar source of difficulties and take remedial action to avoid future repetition.   Simple instant removal will not suffice and a longer-acting permanent process needs to be put in place.

You will often need friends or colleagues to help you overcome such situations and it may be necessary to have the humility to accept such help despite any complications their assistance may through up.

The good news is that overcoming such a pernicious situation leaves you with an exceptionally potent remedy for future adversaries.

Capturing the Ceryneian Hind

Because of its sacred nature, Heracles did not want to hurt the hind and so had to be patient in this task.  It took over a year for him to achieve this task.  It is said he used nets to capture it while it slept and when he returned to Eurystheus with the hind he was reluctant to give it to the king who wanted to keep it in his collection of animals at the palace.  Hercules cleverly called for the king to come and get the hind himself and when the king emerged from the palace he let the animal run off freely.

Lesson 3

Destroying something is much easier and faster than keeping a thing alive. However, such wanton destruction has consequences and you need to recognise that some goals are not worth all the anguish and pain they entail.  If at the end of a lot of effort and time you have not injured or damaged something precious take that as a job well done not a failure.

Capturing the Erymanthian Boar

Hercules caught the boar by shouting and chased it from the thicket into deep snow. Eventually, the boar was totally exhausted and Hercules was able to bind it with chains. When he reached king Eurystheus with the boar on his shoulder Hercules threw the boar at his feet and the king was so terrified he hid himself in a bronze vessel to escape danger.

Lesson 4

Humans can outpace almost any other animal on the planet, including even cheetahs, horses, and wolves in an endurance race.  It is your stamina that may make all the difference in many challenging situations.  That ability to persevere will mean even a stronger opponent can be beaten especially when they are pushed into unfamiliar landscapes.

Those in charge of us are sometimes not worthy of the role they choose to play and hide from their responsibilities.

Cleaning the Augean stables in a single day

Hercules's next task was a humiliating one. He was instructed to clean the huge Augean stables, which had over 3000 oxen and had not been cleaned in over three decades.  This would have been an impossible task for one person but Heracles succeeded by cleverly rerouting the rivers Alpheus and Peneus to wash out the filth.

Lesson 5

When dealing with huge quantities of shit and with little time to dig it out you need to be creative.  Sometimes the solution is not getting bad stuff out but putting good stuff in.  Even in our own lives instead of constantly being depressed by all that we dislike in our lives get busy filling it with something good and worthwhile instead. 

Slaying the Stymphalian birds

The Stymphalian birds were man-eating birds with beaks of bronze, sharp metallic feathers they could launch at their victims, and poisonous dung. They had migrated to a marsh in Arcadia to escape a pack of wolves. They swarmed over the countryside, destroying crops, fruit trees, and townspeople.  Hercules could not enter the marsh as he would sink into the soggy ground so he used a rattle to make a loud sound and this drove the birds high into the sky.  He was able to shoot some of them with his poisonous arrows and take them back to the king as proof that he had achieved his mission.

Lesson 6

Even those who are terrifying to us are invariably scared of some other thing.  

When you cannot enter a dangerous area to achieve a difficult objective then start by driving your opponent, through distraction, to a more beneficial zone for you.  Once you have achieved that use the potent skills you have already acquired to eradicate the problem. 

There are many other tasks Hercules undertook and many other lessons to be learned from all of them but I grew weary of my task and decided to stop at the sixth.  Knowing when to stop is another valuable lesson!  The reason Hercules had to undertake all these tasks was because he had killed his wife and children and the deeds were set as a form of atonement.  Surely that itself is the mightiest lesson of all.  Don’t harm those nearest and dearest to you because you end up spending the rest of your life fighting demons and monsters, like yourself!

Breaking things

 

It came yesterday, borrowed from a relative, and stirred up old forgotten memories.

Of struggling to thread up a pedal singer sewing machine in primary school. 

Those days of being taught knitting and sewing at school have long passed. 

In my day, we spent hours and hours knitting cushion covers or sewing pin cushions. 

I was the class expert in breaking the needles in the sewing machine, 

and our teacher hated my unnatural skill. 

Even my knitting was hit-and-miss. 

It seemed to become tighter and tighter until I was strangling wool and needles. 

My sewing was so bad on the machine that when I did get it going, 

I refused to change the bobbin and thread and did everything with the one colour. Delighted to paddle and zoom in freedom.

At such moments I would have loved to have never-ending curtains of material to feed through the capricious machine. 

Instead, always someone else was waiting to use the machine behind me.

When the needle broke as usual I could hear their despair

I quickly left them to the disaster

Machines are capricious things like people.

Usually broken by others.

There was a flow chart in our engineering department on how to deal with a broken machine.  It always made me laugh.

Green mounds, murdering ancestors and the ages of man

Some objects fill our landscape, but we just don’t see them. Growing up in Northern Ireland these mounds were everywhere. 

I can remember seeing them through the car window and wondering what they were and why were they there. I think I even asked a few questions, but no one gave me a satisfactory answer. One elderly relative put a finger to her mouth, in a hushing motion, and then whispered that these mounds belonged to the fairy folk. This answer did not seem right to me, however, I just accepted their mysterious presence and peculiar abundance in Northern Ireland. 

This year, I suddenly decided I wanted to know what these are and why we have so many. It was prompted by the fact I had to take my car to a garage to get it fixed, and as it was Easter, almost every other garage in the town was shut, so I had to go out into the country to a garage in the middle of nowhere. While I waited beside the garage there was a rath. I had to wait almost 30 minutes, it was the only thing to look at, and I was reminded of seeing things like this through car windows for decades, and not knowing what they were.

They are certainly distinctive, and once you’ve seen one, you can recognise others. I started to do a bit of research into these raths.  Scotland has them too, but nowhere near the numbers that we have here in Northern Ireland. In fact, one of the first papers I read was comparing the raths that are found in Northwest Scotland to Northeast Scotland. Apparently northwest Scotland from Cape Wrath to Argyle and the Hebrides has only five Raths, whereas northeast Scotland from Cathness to the Firth of Fourth has over 38!  These raths in Scotland have a pickish Celtic origin and in the regions where this race lived, there was an abundant number of such mounds to be found. The Picts were first mentioned in 297 AD, when a Roman writer spoke of the “Picts and Irish [Scots] attacking” Hadrian's Wall. The name, thought to be from the Latin picti, “painted”, was one of an ancient people who lived in what is now eastern and north-eastern Scotland, from Caithness to Fife. Their name may refer to their custom of body painting or possibly tattooing. 

However, in Ireland, raths are found in far more abundance with an estimated number between 45,000 to 60,000 and represent the most common form of ancient monument. In fact, between 70-80% of all raths in the island of Ireland are found in Northern Ireland. No wonder I was always seeing them during my childhood! Dating from the early Christian period (500-1100AD), they are circular earthworks defined by a deep ditch and internal bank, enclosing an area of twenty to forty meters in diameter. There has been little archaeological excavation of these mounds but some have been shown to have the remains of houses and other structures.  The name rath is thought to be from the Irish ráth or ráith meaning of uncertain origin.

The Irish tend to be a superstitious race and these monuments were regarded as the homes of the sídhe (fairies), earning them the title "fairy forts” just as my elderly relative had whispered. Fortunately, superstitious fear of retribution from the fairy folk dissuaded most country people from damaging these mounds and, as a consequence, protected many from destruction but not all.  Another example of such superstition, found in N. Ireland, was leaving a hawthorn tree in the middle of a field, despite the difficulties of ploughing around it.  

 

Farmers just did not want to anger the little folk and bring bad fortune on themselves by pulling out the hawthorn tree.  Another recently proposed explanation is that hawthorns emit a peculiar scent to attract insects rather like the smell of gangrene and decomposing bodies.  In those early times when people were more exposed to this disease and often sat with dying and the dead this smell must have seemed like the smell of death. 

It is probable that raths built between 500-1100 AD were the residences of minor chieftains and served to protect their homes from cattle rustlers or other attackers.  Being raised up on a height gave you a better opportunity to see who might be on the way to cause you problems.  In Malta, the oldest capital city (Mdini) is found inland on a raised mound where its inhabitants would have had a panoramic view of the entire coastline on all sides, very useful in those days of sea-born attackers. 

Fear of others is a powerful motivator to protect your home, family and lifestock. In the Sci-Fi series Firefly, savage and cannibalistic Reavers, were the scary villains of the story.  Terrifying bloodthirsty attackers whose horror was hinted at throughout the early episodes but not seen. When the Reavers eventually turned up in a much later episode it was even more frightening as they had a horrifying reputation.  On a personal note, a relative of mine used a DNA test to discover more about our ancestors and discovered that our family is descended from the Scottish Reivers. These were a group of cattle rustlers, often guilty of feuding, murder, arson and pillaging on the border between Scotland and England in the 14th – 17th century.  How come others invariably find they are related to royalty or famous folk while mine turn out to be rogues?  Both names Reaver and Reiver come from the Old English ‘bereafian’ which means "to take by violence, seize, or rob" and it is where we get the present-day term of bereaved. Not a great discovery to find such blood runs in our veins!

The terms used to describe these mounds can vary: fort, rath, grave mound, earthen ramparts, cairn, mottes, ring forts and cashels. Raths are usually monuments of the early Christian period 500-1200AD and are large flat-topped grass-grown mounds.  Mottes were flat-topped mounds erected by anglo Normans in the late 12th or early 13th century as the bases of strongly defended dwellings of timber (and later stone) castles or dwellings.

Cashels were usually larger than raths and had a circular stone structure used for defence

With a diameter of 80-200ft.

Despite the large number of such mounds, not all have survived. There are only two Ballymurphy raths on the slope of the Belfast Hills when it is known that there used to be twenty on these hills. Unfortunately many have been demolished before even archeological excavations could be done.  Another rath, elsewhere, was destroyed by the intrusion of a rubbish tip that gradually spread over it.  No weapons have been found in raths or cashels but have been found in ring forts.  But often the divisions between these types of mounds blur.  The Mound of Down (Rathmullan) has been excavated and a report suggests that it has been many things over the centuries, 

“First, a rath was built on the site at some point in the Early Christian period; secondly, the main enclosure was constructed; and finally, shortly after the arrival of John de Courcy in Ulster in 1177 AD construction of a motte upon the site of the earlier rath was begun and then abandoned before it could be completed.”

This has probably happened elsewhere and mounds were reused over the millennium.  How many forts, cathedrals, and castles will have started life as a simple rath?  

The Stone Age (10000 BC – 3300 BC) was followed by the Bronze Age (3300 BC-1200 BC) followed by the Iron Age (1200 BC-550 BC), the Roman period (43 AD –410 AD) and the Early Medieval period (410 AD – 1066 AD) etc so little wonder people chose to build upon earlier more ancient constructs.  It is then more surprising to stumble across a feature in Northern Ireland in pristine condition that is so old it makes all the mounds mentioned earlier almost modern in comparison. Mountsandel Wood is the earliest known settlement of man in Ireland dating to between 7600 and 7900 BC.  

Flint tools were found here, indicating that Stone Age hunters camped here to fish salmon in the natural weir.  Archaeologists believe that Stonehenge was constructed in several phases from around 3100 BC to 1600 BC and 3200 BC is the approximate date when the earliest pyramids of Egypt were built. This Mountsandel Settlement was already over four millenniums old when these were all being constructed. However, the Stone Age period has even earlier and more intricate constructions that make Mountsandel seem both primitive and modern in comparison.  Göbekli Tepe in the Southeastern Anatolia Region of Turkey was inhabited from 9500 BC to at least 8000 BC now that is impressive!

This piece started with simple green mounds I saw through the car window as a child and the mystery they represented. It continues with a run through the ages of mankind and a quick detour into my own murderous family ancestors from Scotland. It ended with a temple constructed in Turkey over 11000 years ago.  Strange the paths a mind takes when freewheeling.

Beatrice a hundred year old mystery

My grandmother died aged 25 when my father was only 14 months old. One of the few photos we have is her sitting with him, a baby on her lap. She looks so lovely, but it feels strangely heartbreaking knowing that in a matter of months, she would be dead. What caused her death or even any details of her death seems still shrouded in mystery. It was 1925 and attitudes to death were different in those times. The general approach then could be summarised as ‘least said soonest mended’!

A friend, even in the 1960s, said her mother had died when she was just 13 and her sister 11. They were sent to school the day of their mother’s funeral and no one ever mentioned her mother again. Such a reaction was fairly common in those earlier years of the 1920s, and to be fair, there were so many deaths from diseases and other causes that perhaps not talking about such losses was a practical way of coping. What is there to say about the death toll of World War I when 40 million died between the years 1914 and 1918? My grandfather fought in that war. The Spanish flu which followed from 1918 to 1919, killed another 50 million. In the face of such a scale of loss, possibly people opted to just accept death as an ever-present feature of their lives. 

My grandfather was born in 1898 and entered the army aged only 16. It is hard to imagine him going through World War I as a teenager and facing the brutal horror of those days including the battle of the Somme. During that time he was shot in the upper arm and once recovered was sent right back into battle. By the time World War I was over he was in his early 20s. He returned to Northern Ireland fell in love with Beatrice Magee and married in 1923, aged 25. They had a baby boy but after just two years, his young wife suddenly died.

Because her death was seldom discussed my father knew little of his mother’s death. He was fortunate that his mother was one of many siblings and during his childhood, he had many loving aunts lavish attention on him. But that void where a mother should have been was ever-present. He had questions that were never answered. One gossipy villager whispered that she had been sent to an asylum and died there. In the absence of real knowledge, toxic gossip often takes its place. Also in today's world, not knowing your family’s health details leaves you uninformed about important things like any inherited diseases there may be. When a relative examined one side of our family tree, he was horrified at the number of male relatives who had died quite young from heart disease.

Last week, my brother found an old tray in the attic of our garage and brought it down for us to see.  It had been there for decades but we read its inscription as we examined it.  Given to Beatrice Magee on the occasion of her marriage in 1923.  My brother took it home and cleaned, polished and fixed the tray and my Mum placed it in the living room behind the photograph of Beatrice holding her baby.  It triggered renewed memories of this lady that none of us had ever met.  Several family members had failed to find Beatrice’s death certificate while carrying out their research and there seemed to be a mystery in its absence.  

This week I applied online and bought a copy of her death certificate using a different birth date than the one commonly used.  This morning the death certificate arrived and I felt that at last the mystery of almost a century would be solved.  However, the death certificate was written in such poor handwriting I could not make out the cause of death!  In frustration, I sent it to relatives, medical and otherwise hoping they could help decipher the words.  It took a day but the answer eventually came, she suffered from “mitral regurgitation 2 years cardiac failure certified”.  So there in back and white at last was the answer.  

In examining the names on her grave there are signs of the scale of loss of life in those days.  Of her 10 siblings a five-year-old Violet died of scarlet fever in 1914 (the scarlet fever epidemic would peak in 1914).  The Spanish flu in 1919 took two of her brothers 24-year-old William and 19-year-old Charles.  They had to carry out the coffin of one brother through the family front door in November and then the second brother in December.  The scale of such loss was repeated through homes throughout this country.  It hurts the heart to think of it all.  There are no words.  How that generation weathered so much in such a short time should remind us all of the preciousness of life that we too often take for granted.  War and disease rip families apart. Each loss leaves a void that lingers in the hearts of all those who loved them.  

PS The Spanish Flu originated in the US on March 11, 1918, at Fort Riley a military camp in Kansas.  When those soldiers went to fight in World War 1 they took the disease to Europe and the rest of the world. It feels odd that the war my grandfather fought resulted in a disease that killed his wife's two brothers. However, pestilence and warfare were often fellow bedfellows over the millennium and no doubt recent wars will continue to contribute to the re-emergence of infectious diseases.  Already diseases such as cholera, polio, measles, tuberculosis and malaria are rising in the conflict areas of Iraq, South Sudan, Syria, Afghanistan and Yemen. The sad truth is that adequate prevention and treatment of communicable diseases are often impossible in times of conflict. In fact, war itself provides perfect vectors for disease such as refuge camps, mass movements of populations, poor sanitation, and a lack of access to either proper medical assistance, water or a healthy diet.

Courtesy is such an old-fashioned word but a wonderful art indeed

 

She had a warm smile of greeting and she spoke kindly showing careful loving attention towards all guests. Her open heart welcomed you to her simple tidy home with generosity. Talking with her reminded me of conversations long ago, in black-and-white movies, where it seemed each word and gesture was carefully weighed and considered.  But it is the feeling her courtesy generated that I remember most.  She was doing not just everything to avoid offending you but also providing a safe space for you to be. Where you knew no harm but only help and love would come your way. Her determination to be courteous provided a safety net for every hurt soul that came her way.

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

Bahá'í Writing

Doer of good

Dear Friend (you know who you are!), 

Doer of good remorselessly. 

Placing wreaths on old graves. 

Remembering lost ones over decades. 

Tidying and cleaning their resting places in honour of the love that lives still. 

Visiting lonely living elderly relatives and nurturing them with that life-affirming connection. 

I care, you matter, these regular long trips, crisscrossing the country affirm. 

Keeping friends, tight, through stress, divorce, separation, and loss of loved ones. 

Making sure the safety net of your love and concern is strengthened with additional knots of love. 

Never failing in loyalty, even when brought to the knees by the suicide of dear ones. 

The devastation of losing dear ones by their own hand strikes that huge heart to its core. 

But keeping that love alive despite the loss, the pain and absence.  

Remembering and holding their spirit in gentle arms of understanding and compassion.  

Dropping everything and giving anything to help a friend in real need. 

Providing constant help of finance, time, and love. 

Not buckling in the face of death but tightening the armour of love and heading anywhere for those you hold dear. 

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

Baha'i Writings

Mystery of the Missing Earbuds

I lost my expensive Wi-Fi earbuds. I looked everywhere, under things behind sofas, and then in the most unlikely places, drawers and coat pockets, cupboards and shelves. No sign of them, and after two days of no success, my thoughts took a darker turn. Which of our visitors had pocketed my earbuds? They were a top-of-the-range model, an expensive gift for my birthday. You only had to look at them to know the quality. Even the case they were stored in seemed expensive. 

Perhaps it was the man who called in to read the electricity meter this week?  I had held the corridor cupboard door open while he read the meter inside. Had his sticky fingers closed over my precious headset as I fumbled with the door? Another suspect was John the man who comes once a year to spray clean the guttering and windows of the house. He had called and asked if he should do it this week. I went to ask my mother as he waited on the doorstep with the front door open. Had he reached in while I was along the corridor and pocketed the earbuds? His huge hands could have easily swallowed the small slick case in seconds. 

And so it went on. By the fourth day, I even searched the garage, the toilet and the car. Places I had never even used the earbuds. Desperation had obviously set in. They were gone. Was it my carelessness or another’s callousness? Would I even ever know? This morning I put on my white trainers and deep inside there were the case and earbuds. Mystery solved! 

It is human nature to make mistakes and to blame others. To vent our anger out on someone else. Too often the sad truth is the mistake is simply ours. The root cause is right here in us.  How many times do we decide to blame others instead of fixing the problem?

You can get discouraged many times, but you are not a failure until you begin to blame somebody else and stop trying.

John Burroughs

Life of the spirit and the art of carpet cleaning

I contemplate my life, my purpose.

The floor is covered in pieces of dirt. 

Life sneaks through our fingers and drops its debris everywhere.

This carpet will need a good hoover today. 

At times, I feel a bit adrift and rudderless. 

Some of those spots on the carpet will need to be scrubbed after hoovering. 

Finding direction is hard when stationary in the water. 

It’s only when I start to make progress on the carpet. I will suddenly see how filthy the settee has become. 

Momentum is needed to achieve anything of worth in life. 

Perhaps I should make a list, to-do list 

1. hoover carpet 

2. clean spots on the carpet 

3. wipe down the settee

When I get started, I can make some adjustments in life as I go, these first steps are just the beginning!

1. Forgive everyone

2. Work on my own defects

3. Clean the rust from off my soul

Impossible to fix?

At times, it feels impossible to fix. 

The problem beyond solution. 

However adept and agile the mind, however, clever and cunning the plan. 

It still feels like an impossible task. 

When you've done everything you can, thought it out from every angle, consulted with those with experience or wisdom, or who know you best, then there comes a time to leave it in the hands of God. 

Not like a spoilt child, crying for a parent to fix the broken toy, but with tenderness and humility leave it in the hands of God whose compassion is greater than we can possibly imagine.

Ballybosnia Writer's Group

A writer’s group fuelled by coffee and biscuits. 

An armpit room up steep twisted stairs in a community centre on a dismal estate in Northern Ireland. 

So many houses burned out the locals call it, Ballybosnia. 

The laughter and creativity set hearts aglow. 

Sharing thoughts and experiences of life. 

Rich in failure and very rare successes. 

But open and unveiled. 

A space to share even the raw pain of loss with others. 

For that pain to be spread butter like, over waiting hearts. 

Soaking it up like crumpets and lightening, the teller of sorrows. 

Awakening, empathy and support in the listeners. 

Healing wounds with silence, and some words. 

An honour to share such space with such souls.

"... engage in meaningful conversation in those social spaces open to you; and participate, to the extent possible, in undertakings and efforts directed towards the common good."

The Universal House of Justice