87 year old - fish fantasy

Joyce reciting her fish poem, such a treat meeting up with my writing buddies, from years ago, in Northern Ireland this summer.  What a lovely bunch to be creative and have fun with.

Stalked to death by LinkedIn - apologies everyone

I am on holiday in Northern Ireland visiting family/friends here.  It has been a lovely 6 weeks and I am about to fly back to Malta.  However, I must apologise for the harassment I inflicted on all my contacts via LinkedIn.  It was totally not what I wanted and I am so sorry for those annoying invites that regularly fly into your inbox. Let me give my side of the sad tale.

I am presently employed on a writing assignment which is for a course and part of it involves using LinkedIn professionally.  As a result I had to sign up and create an account to see how the whole thing worked and try it out for potential students on the course.  

I made my profile and quickly got some rubbish in to get started. Never expecting that LinkedIn would contact every single person in my contact list informing them of my 'new Job', silly titles etc.  But it did and has continued to do so with relentless efficiency almost every day.  I have been on a Google trawl to try and stop it, but it is as if the dam has been broken and no matter how many notifications I turn off, withdraw the darn thing has a mind of its own.  The only comforting thing is that the internet is filled with equally frustrated voices. Such as these

1. I have tried to help this issue by deleting my imported contacts and linked in is still inviting people to become my connection. 

This issue is a terrible way to get people in touch, as it turns out I am just annoying all of my professional contacts without my knowledge. 

and 

2. Same problem and I WISH I had an answer on how to stop this. It is SPAMMING. Here they penalize someone from trying to link to a stranger, but yet it's ok for LinkedIn to send out an invite to someone w/o your permission?

and yet another cry 

3. this is also happening to me. I have contacted LinkedIn three times and, although they have "acknowledged" receiving my e-mail and assured me they would contact me, they have not. I am now getting at least three people a day who have accepted my nonexistent invitation. I am EXTREMELY frustrated. I thought I would be choosing only those people I wanted a connection to!

I joined this as it was a "professional" networking opportunity that I thought could connect me with my peers and would be vastly different than Facebook. Yet here I am with similar issues in terms of privacy and control.

and even more intense

4. This is outrageous and I'm withdrawing my account. As the owner of a very large web site, I will recommend my members do the same.
This is shameful and desperate spamming.

Oh dear, never mind I hope you will all forgive this unwanted intrusion from me.  I would not have done it by choice.  At least I will be sure to include health warnings for students using this resource on the course!  While here I have met so many victims of LinkedIn and all are so annoyed.  Surely such practices eventually backfire on the perpetrators?  Perhaps it is a language thing?  For example Americans need to understand how the British use language is very different and this is a typical guidance.

What the Brits say: Quite good
What the British mean: A bit disappointing
What others understand: Quite good

What the Brits say: Very interesting
What the British mean: That's clearly nonsense
What others understand: They are impressed

What the Brits say: I only have a few minor comments
What the British mean: Please re-write completely
What others understand: He's found a few typos

I’ve added my own

When the Brits say: LinkedIn is prolific

What the British mean: LinkedIn is a bloody nuisance 

What LinkedIn understands: We really network well

I would love to hear from you on your thoughts!

PS I have no new job, no new title and have achieved next to nothing - rest assured you are now updated on my status

Angel in the shuck

She had nothing to speak of
no money, no profession, no property
She kept chickens and always wore wellingtons
Her hair an untamed bush under a crocheted hat
Her skin creased like the folds of an accordion
sun blasted into brown granite
her language a quaint country lilt
Her wrinkles form permanent smile
lines around eyes and mouth
beaming her well meaning at the world
while shooing the chickens from
under her feet in shit splashed boots
You'd mention some old rogue
from the council, corrupt and foul
and her response was ever
"What a lovely man!"
She had no badness to say about anyone
Only good things to appreciate and praise
I once fell in the deep ditch beside her road
She ran throwing her bucket aside
chickens running in all directions
screeching their distress
with her spade hands and peat tipped nails
she hauled me out
smiling at me, the world and her chickens
As a child, I remember thinking
I'd found an angel in the shuck

Note the meaning of shuck - Northern Ireland slang, meaning 

1: a ditch at the side of the road that contains a small stream normally laced with cow shit

Still I Rise

Held a creative writing group in Ballysally, Coleraine today at Focus on Family and really enjoyed it,  Nice to see a room full and to have everyone willing to put pen to paper, share and create together.  Strange to be back in the same place after a couple of years away but it will be only until mid August when I head back to Malta.  Enjoying the cool weather and the crack.  Today we watched a video favourite writer of mine - full of laughter and fire.  She died this year but what a lady in every sense of the word.  Enjoy her telling of Still I Rise.

Dad - A Real Teacher

Was talking on Skype to my uncle in New Zealand and the topic of my dad came up.  It has been over nine years since he died but he is alive in memories and conversations with loved ones.  My uncle reminded me of a holiday in Cranfield when he was just a boy and my father took him with others to examine a bag of cigarettes washed up on the shore.  My father told them all that there was a chance that people were on the look out with guns for this smuggled hoard so their race to the beach was filled with danger.  My uncle remembers the excitement and thrill of the escapade and how Dad turned the whole affair into a huge adventure for them all.  

My brother remembers how one night when he went round to my Dad’s school in Dungiven and in the darkness opened the front door and went down a long corridor.  Empty school corridors at night are spooky, you almost hear the voices of non-existent pupils echoing from classrooms over the squeak of your shoes on the shiny tiles.  Suddenly, at the end of the corridor in the darkest part someone opened fire with a gun and my brother ran for his life while the flashes of gunfire lit up the corridor.  It was of course my dad who had let fire with a sports starting pistol to see what my brother would do.  

It was never boring with my dad around.  He could make every event into an adventure and fun.  Even a walk in the fields turned into a geological field trip, or a visit to a castle, a lesson on history.  Always informing and educating he could not stop probing your intellect pushing you to find out and want more.

In Dungiven in the 1970s there was a divide between Catholics and Protestants and yet he was a voice of reason even then.  It was not popular and I was struck by how ahead of his time, in so many ways, he was.  In the tiny secondary school in the Sperrins he taught children about Geography so well that all could identify every country on a world map.  The only test was who was the fastest as they raced to the board and labelled the world map drawn there. He loved world maps and bought the biggest and best he could.  I get flashbacks every time I talk on skype with my son and see over his shoulder a huge world map on his wall.  This desire for maps must be genetic!  He also taught the children high in the Sperrins isolated from even NI about all the world religions Buddhist, Hindu, Islam, Baha'i, Christianity, Judaism etc Even now forty years later our religious education has not caught up with his wide ranging insights on world religions.

My son found a newspaper article (from over thirty years ago) in which my Dad speaks of his educational philosophy and it resonates still, even fifty years after he practised it in Canada, Australia and Northern Ireland.  It gives me a fragrance of this lovely man who chose the path less travelled.  Here are two excerpts in his own words.

“A relatively small number of teachers of the right calibre could create a school society in which pupils could progress to greater awareness of the world about them, their cultural heritage and a knowledge of their real selves.  Unfortunately, the false values of contemporary society have been allowed to dictate priorities in education.”

“For me the ideal person is the man from Nazareth who lived in a society very much like our own and Who in the midst of all that hatred could say: ‘Love your enemies and do good to those that hate you.’  One thing for sure is He did not learn that from the teacher in the synagogue school.”

Do the impossible

Pari was one of those friends that embrace you with their care and tenderness.  She was full of a radiant laughter and good humour.  It encompassed all who came into her circle and she allowed it to embrace everyone she came across.  As if to say, you are worthy of my love, whoever you are!  I met her at a strange time in her life when she went back to being a student after years of working as a District nurse in a rural community.  She sweated blood over those first assignments at university but, after discovering her brain had not atrophied in the proceeding decades, she took to the course and university with delight. 

She told me of a client, Suzy in England who she visited in her role as district nurse.  This woman was in the terminal stages of cancer and required increasing doses of palliative medicine to keep the pain at bay.  It was Pari's job to make sure her passing was as pain free as possible.  Pari said she remembered thinking that endings are always hard but no one should face them alone.  It requires courage to live and to die, especially while everyone around you is living and you are facing death. Suzy had it in spades and was resigned to her life ending.  Medical treatments had been applied and endured to no avail.  So instead she was planning her departure and with two young children and a husband there was a lot to think about.  Towards the end she was moved into a special unit in the local hospital.  It was thought easier to give regular pain medication and for the family a valuable break from heart breaking 24 hour care.

Pari also visited her in hospital.  The health service has now forgotten such continuity of care is vital.  Having the same district nurse who has watched your journey from health to illness and held your hand during chemotherapy, hope, radiotherapy, hairlessness and final acceptance that no more can be done is a comfort.  Not some new stranger who knows only this sad end game of your life.  Pari watched the disease’s progression with growing realization that the end was very close.  An intense weariness and sleepiness in Suzy became ever present.  There was no more fight in her left, just a desire for the whole thing to be over.  Then, disaster happened.  As Pari said, you cannot imagine anything this bad getting worse but it did.

Her husband decided he could not take anymore of death and illness and loss.  He arranged for the two children to be put into social care and left.  When the news was broken to Suzy of her husband leaving and her children being placed into social care, it was whispered gradually to avoid traumatising her.  Once, the message had been given Pari watched as her sick friend stirred as if from a deathly stillness.  Her face became mobile, her arm movements more deliberate.  The transformation continued throughout the day and it ended with her discharging herself, against all advice, while arranging her children to be taken out of care and back to the family home.  As Pari visited, Suzy literally dragged herself from the sofa to the sink making huge vegetable/fruit drinks in a blender.  She managed the children and when they slept she would weep on the large sofa and rage against her illness.  Pari had never seen such true grit.  There was a steely determination to persevere, to beat this thing.  Incredibly, Suzy did.  She lived a further eight years, long enough to start her own successful restaurant in the local village and bring all her children into young independent teenagers.  For Pari it was a constant reminder that we know so little of the unbelievable reserves people have within them.  Of how the mind, once set on a path, can indeed do the impossible.

"I am ever so humble, I am!"

“Thou shalt find the wayfarer to be lowly before all men and humble before all things”

“the wayfarer must not claim the seat of honour in any gathering or walk before others in the desire to vaunt and exalt himself”[1]

Humility, these days, is associated with subservience.  Its archetype was that toady, horrid character we remember from Dicken’s classic novel (David Copperfield), “I am ever so humble, I am”  I was  struck by Charles Dicken’s own reading concerning this character.  He manages to put so much odious quality in his voice while speaking as Uriah Heep one feels instant dislike for the distinctive creepy Uriah.  

Until I saw this video I had no idea what an excellent narrator this author was. Despite all his protestations Uriah was far from humble but for some reason he epitomises what people have grown to assume is humility.  We have been trained in literature and history to admire the brave, the audacious, the straight talking hero and humility has been tarnished with a creeping form of cowardism.  

Of course true humility is far from such false simpering or fear of superiors.  In its truest from humility is that conviction of the nobility of humanity.  A station so exalted that there can be no other approach but humble recognition.  Too often each of us fall far short of what we could and should be.  Nonetheless, our capacity is great.  What we choose to do with that gift can be appalling. Training ourselves to approach others convinced of their high station does many things,

1. we become aware of our own shortcomings instead of those we meet.
2. we begin to look for signs of nobility in all we meet

These two attitudes have consequences that are transformative for the individual and our communities.  It enhances progress as we are forced to reflect on our own station and then implement change.  Also, because we approach others looking for the good, it is that we focus on.  Even if they have nine bad qualities and only one good, with true humility it is that single virtue we choose to observe and learn from.

"Humility is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less."[2] 

How we perceive ourselves and the world is critical.  If we sense the inevitable corrosion and corruption around us it is disheartening and strangely incapacitating.  Whereas, feeling that we are part of a positive plan for this world encourages us to play our role.  If Gandhi had focussed on the prejudice and hatred between Muslim and Hindu communities he could not have engineered peaceful protest and become a potent symbol for change.  It was not that he was uniformed or ignorant of the disunity it was merely his entire focus was on implementing spiritual principles.  He was convinced their practical application would be of lasting benefit to everyone.  This ability to spot the spiritual principle underpinning an issue is transformative on both the individual and our society.

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[1] (Bahá’í Writings)

[2] C S Lewis