A potpourri of pieces

I ran a writer’s group in Ireland many years ago and would use a blue notebook during these sessions.  Often I would suggest writing tasks/triggers and everyone would have a go.  In the silent moments of concentration I too, would scribble ideas.  This same notebook I found in my mother's garage this week and decided to use some of the half-thought-out ideas in this blog posting. They are far from complete and diverse and I’d forgotten their existence but somehow it feels right to resurrect and share them now. These are the first two pieces.  One meditative in quality and the other a science fiction fantasy tale.

1. The calm of the morning

I find if I start the day off right it all flows better. By starting right I mean I find a quiet spot on a chair near a window in my home. There, I begin by looking out and drinking in the view. My thoughts race here and there. On the birds, in the hedges, the clouds closing in, and the pain in my back. Then, the thoughts begin to settle like a flock of birds landing on the lawn. I remember all the people past and present I love and pray for their protection and happiness. Going a bit deeper and I look inward thinking about who I am and what I need to change. If I sit long enough even these thoughts disappear. Stillness comes, a tiny moment of calm. There is suddenly a sense of well-being, of being mindful in this world. I find myself grateful for another day, another chance to do things better, to be a better person.  

As Saint Jerome (342–347 AD), an early translator of the Bible,  so eloquently put it,

“Good, better, best. Never let it rest. 'Til your good is better and your better is best.

2. Unity, not science saves the day (Sci-Fi)

It has been an incredible unlikely breakthrough, discovering that by placing large mirrors in space it was possible to reverse global warming. The Max Planck Institute in Hamburg Germany had come up with this amazing piece of geoengineering. The physics was simple enough, the mirrors reflected the sun's rays away from the Earth and by selectively reducing the incoming rays were able to precisely compensate for the extra trapped heat. Global temperatures were brought down to preindustrial levels in a surprisingly short period of time.  The headlines screamed ‘Scientists to the Rescue’ and the world population heaved a communal sigh of relief.  Several Pacific islands under threat from flooding of their low-level land were saved.  Glacier coverage at the poles went from a frightening reduction rate to a more stable state. 

What was really clever about the system called (Geo Electromagnetic Management System - GEMS) was that when temperatures plummeted due to a severe winter in the northern hemisphere careful adjustment of the radio-controlled mirrors were able to direct extra sunlight to an entire snowbound eastern coastal region of the US and helped clear transport lines, reduce freezing temperatures and yet prevent urban flooding. It seemed these mirrors could not only combat global warming but could also be used to moderate any severe weather fluctuations. It was felt that GEMS was a super version of the massive dams which had controlled water supply in the previous centuries. It was just that now, these enormous mirrors could enable an equally sensitive control of the sunlight hitting our earth. The Max Planck Institute made millions and won the Nobel prize in physics for their startlingly clever invention. Then, things began to go wrong.

It two decades to discover that just as the massive dams across rivers in the US had in fact damaged huge swaths of ecosystems these mirrors had been having unknown impacts on ocean temperatures.  As one eminent scientist explained it, 

“It is a bit like controlling one simple part of a complex global interrelated process for your own ends.  As a result of GEMS, other vital features of the planet’s wellbeing are thrown out of sync.  Unfortunately, the damage done is irreparable and irreversible.  The end result is that we will just have to live with the consequences of what has been done.”  

This was dismissed as nonsense by the management team at GEMS who pointed out that such naysayers always underestimated what science could achieve. Adjustments could be made and errors reduced. Popular opinion was behind the scientists and it took a decade before the GEMS mirrors were dismantled.  Arguments raged across the world as to the correct course of action with toxic polarisation of the pro-GEMS population and the anti-GEMS.  Any attempt at a reasonable discourse appeared impossible in such a rancid climate of debate. By that stage, ocean warming had passed the tipping point and runaway climate change triggered huge loss of life across the globe. Disunity bred dissension and disease and it took another century for unity to come.  When a world community eventually began to act as one, positive change was remarkable.  As one comedian said, “It was as if the whole earth’s system was waiting for us to get our act together before it would play ball!”  

“It is the light of the intellect which gives us knowledge and understanding …”

'Abdu'l‑Bahá

Divine Letters - tea stained and creased but read them!

 

Should we claim spiritual insight or clarity due to birthright, experience, or education?

Gosh no!

Is there some special mental skill or knack that enhances our spiritual capacity?

Gosh no!

Is there something of value to be found in our own words that will engender internal change or growth?

Gosh no!

Do we encounter souls that allow us to learn from their insights, skills, and experience?

Gosh yes!

When we listen with heart and mind to the lessons wrought from lives, honed by their unique path in life, do we feel the possibilities of change within ourselves?

Gosh yes!

It is said that every person we meet is a letter from the divine. Some creased, written covered in tea stains, worn over time from repeated handling with last-minute additions scribbled in the margin. When encountering any soul find something of worth within. Some wisdom they have gained from suffering or from actions they have undertaken in service to others. Even if you find them bereft of every gift normally given to a human, destitute of personal graces or material means draw close and ask them about their life’s journey. Are such lessons from the poor and humble infinitely better than the prattling of the powerful and the rich?

Gosh yes!

Does the quality of any letter depend on its letterhead, embossed in gold with a fancy address and ornate seal?

Gosh no!

Somewhere in the grace of listening, we grow in empathy and awareness. Cynical analysis will not suffice only kindly acceptance befits the listener. Can progress result?

Gosh Yes!

Should we be grateful to these letters of the divine, hidden in simple garb? 

Gosh yes!

Does the quality of our response to such human letters become a measure of the Divine mercy we ultimately receive?

Gosh yes!

 ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

Matthew 25.40

My Letter of Attack, Dear Des....

A Letter to Des

You live in Northern Ireland and work the land. Generations of mine have worked this land and while shaping their landscape also carved from their time here characters as generous and as unique as the fields they are surrounded by.  

However, you are an interloper.  One of those parasites who move into a community and by terrorising your neighbours seize property and substance.  Owning nothing you hoodwink the widowed or elderly to give over their land management forms claiming you will do all the work for them.  Substituting your own signature you then proceed to claim this money for a full five years.  When owners of the land protest that you are taking their right, intimidation becomes the order of the day.  Forcing yourself into my relative’s home and holding one against the wall by the throat!  When an elderly neighbour is seen peering across the road into your garden you assault him and accuse him of looking at your wife.  Little realizing with his poor eyesight he can barely see his own fence and his habit of staring is born of this defect.  

From owning no land, you merely rented from others, you successfully took their forms and claimed subsidies in their place.  Years later, while no longer on the land and having illegally removed fences and gates from the property, you continue to claim money on this property you do not own.  This abuse of the single farm payment goes unchecked as years later you can still claim this amount despite not owning the land or even renting it anymore. Planning permits are ignored as you construct on property that is not yours, barns and houses.  Complaints by neighbours to authorities fall on deaf ears.  Bullies thrive in today’s world where confusion and legislation fight in incompetent courts.  Time delays in obtaining justice means such characters have their way and painful resignation is the order of the day.  

When the persistent few actually win against you, your approach is always the same. You pay the first instalment of the money owned and then stop all subsequent payments.  Knowing full well for the innocent, court orders, enforcement, unpleasantness is draining and demeaning.  Even appearing in court to explain how they have been abused, is a humiliation of the soul.  “Look how old, confused, helpless I am, such a rogue can seize my land, wrestle control of my property and here I appear month after month pleading for protection” they seem to convey.  And hence the rogue thrives on his tyranny of others.

You and I met many years ago.  I was visiting an aunt whose fields you rented.  You had allowed the cattle in the fields to gain access to her garden and the bullock happily played across the lawn.  I phoned to tell you that your bullock was loose and could easily get on to the main busy road causing serious injury.  Your resentment was obvious but you acquiesced and moved the animal back to your  fields.  Later, after I’d gone you complained to my aunt about my manner.   I know why you didn’t like me.  We looked at each other and I saw a petty tyrant intimidating all around him.  You didn’t know me, didn’t know who I knew, could not work out how I fitted in to the neighbourhood.  As it happens I know no one of importance, have zero knowledge of farming practices or the area.  But, I did sense something as you raised your stick and beat the bullock on its side to chase it out of the garden.    I recognised a bully and applied the same logic I have long used with them.  Never appease a bully, it only empowers them.  Accommodating them in any way will only add to suffering of the next victim of their tyranny.  

Years ago public opinion in a rural setting would bring its own consequences.  If you abused the elderly farmer, a widow etc the community would quickly let the person know their actions were not to be tolerated.  In such tight knit farming communities your actions would have consequences that quickly let you know lines had been crossed.  Now, such is the rural isolation and pressures facing farmers despair, suicide, economic ruin, family divisions, addiction all have broken down the once united communities.  The reason rural communities were so united was out of necessity.  You helped a neighbour build a shed, cut his field, herd a stock etc because you would one day need their help.  Your destiny was linked to theirs.  But more, generations before you had followed the same path.  It felt the right thing to do.  A moral principle was ingrained like table manners and instilled in future generations.  

When staying in my grandfather’s farm for a week, while he was unwell, I was shocked by how many characters came through the door expecting tea and chat.  The door was expected to be open under all conditions and a warm greeting extended whether I knew them or not.  You learned that this was deemed acceptable behaviour and to do any less was bad manners.  My grandfather helped build his neighbour’s houses and was paid in potatoes not cash and sometimes not paid at all.  That too, was okay because most people survived on the generousity of others and you knew that it would be repaid in friendship and respect if not in money.    We all have memories of those open doors and open hearts.  We were shaped at those hearths and kitchens that smelled of soda bread and roasts in the oven.  When something has been lost we have to look back at an older culture to summon a better way.  Each culture had a bedrock of social interaction that gently corrected and directed behaviour.  Today’s splendid isolation does not serve.  We are essentially communities of people in cities and countries who need each other more than we can possible imagine.  Working together on common goals in service will help remind us of the necessity of community cohesion and what wonders it instills in us and our children and grandchildren.  To proceed in the opposite direction will create unhealthy individuals, divided families, miserable communities and serve selfish materialistic agendas.

Old House - breaking and entering

There is an old house in the centre of Sliema on Malta.  I have always been curious about it, lying as it does completely neglected in the midst of modern towers and shops.  A stone's throw from the beautiful shore it lies locked and over grown.  But, as I've walked past on many occasions I've wondered about what lies beyond the locked gate.  Today, I explored and got a few photos of the secret garden and house.  The google map image shows you the position of the house.

From the main road all you see is a locked gate and fence.  Sticking my camera through the bars I get a glimpse of the rubbish that has gathered in the garden.

The fence between the posts has thick chainmail on it, so getting a view of the house itself between overgrown trees and bushes involved me clambering up a small wall and hanging over the top with my arm outstretched and clicking the camera.  Unfortunately, I couldn't look through the viewfinder and do this hence the haphazard nature of my camera work.

The house is two storey with gardens on both levels and a bridge over the lower garden to the front door.  Not that my camera picked this up.  I was just lucky I was seeing bits of the house through the wilderness.

I'd be a hopeless spy.  My hanging onto the gates and clicking was made more difficult by a fading battery which kept closing down the camera, just when I got a half decent shot.

From my glimpses through the trees I could make out a lovely house which nature has reclaimed.

At one stage the gardens would have been magnificent, even now they remind one of a secret garden hidden away for years from public eye.

Thought I'd got a good shot here, but just got the tree!

This was better and by hanging on to the top of the fence balanced precariously I got this view.  Worryingly, a few tourists were stopping beneath me on the pavement curious about this plump woman hanging over a six foot high fence above them.

I care not what people think!  The joy of being mid fifty is that you have left behind the dreadful self consciousness of youth and the self absorption of the forties.  But I am tiring of getting only tiny glimpses of the beauty which lies here before me.

Blasted battery failed me again.  James Bond never had to deal with such petty things.  A man below asks concerned, "Are you stuck up there?"

I answer politely, "No, I am fine!"  He is reluctant to move on and by now there are five of them below, a crowd is gathering and that brings others.  Several are pointing up at me and others come from across the road to see what is going on. 

Bloody busybodies people are so nosey!  Mind you speaking of nosy, here am I hanging over someone else's property clicking like mad.  Talk about the pot calling the kettle black!

I get down and decide to try the back of the premises.  I am now sounding like a burglar, I notice.  I go through a parking yard, the combination lock was intimidating, but someone had left the gate ajar.  So I was able to step over a small wall into the rough back end of the garden.

At one stage this must have been an outdoor bar area but nature has taken over and trees grow behind the counter.  It reminds one that without us cities would soon look very different.

At last a view of the house from behind!  I feel I have risked life and limb to catch this glimpse.

Perhaps, at one stage the house had a tennis court in its gardens? All is broken and in bad shape.  But at least I can see the large windows at the back now.

I am having to clamber over rubble to get a better look.

This outhouse has seen better days.

From behind the huge apartment blocks loom over the lovely house.

The garden at the back is still lovely, despite all these years of being unattended.

That huge window must light up the whole back of the house bringing the garden into the upper floor.  And here it lies unseen and forgotten.  I am so glad to discover this house and despite not getting all the way in feel a sense of achievement.  What a good way to spend a Saturday morning.  Also, slightly relieved I didn't break an ankle or fall in between two boulders and have to saw an arm off to free myself.  At this age one learns to be grateful for the weirdest things!

Legacy

The idea of legacy is an interesting one.  In some ways it can be a simple thing - something left in a will by someone who has died.  But in others it speaks of a choice to live a life that is so rich it doesn’t end with this one.  

“The choices we make about the lives we live determine the kinds of legacies we leave. “ Tavis Smily

You get the feeling that legacy should be about much more than how much money and possessions we leave behind.  A friend of mine who worked in London with the rich set, used to wear a badge saying he who dies with the most toys wins.  It kind of sums up the pointlessness of acquiring stuff.  

 Shakespeare put it differently, “No legacy is so rich as honesty”.  

I like that, it makes you think.  But others have their own definition

“Carve your name on hearts, not tombstones.  A legacy is etched into the hearts of others and the stories they share about you.”  Shannon L Alder

Now, that feels like a better definition, closer to what legacy should be about.  Makes it almost an inspirational thing rather than a post script to life.

 “Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you're there.

It doesn't matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away. The difference between the man who just cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching, he said. The lawn-cutter might just as well not have been there at all; the gardener will be there a lifetime.” … Ray Bradbury

But maybe legacy is not so complicated.  I hate it when I have to struggle to understand something.  I like simple clear explanations.  Definitions that just stay in my head and yet make me think.  So I think my favourite quote on legacy will have to be this one.

“If you would not be forgotten as soon as you are dead, either write something worth reading or do something worth writing.”    from Benjamin Franklin

Perhaps that is a good point to stop, or in the words of Forrest Gump, “and that’s all I am going to say about that!”