Fighting for strangers.

It is ages old, some say it’s part of us: inseparable. I say: not so. We may fight, defensively, to save ourselves and those we hold dear and even strangers in danger. But for queen and country? For a religious cause? For a defined principle such as independence? Or just for the sheer hell of it. Giving Johny Foreigner a bloody nose. Well, more than that: killing, maiming, raping, pillaging. Humans have done it all for millennia.

Now we have citizens fighting in a foreign land (the Middle East) for who knows what. And why? Well, perhaps to make a statement; to fulfil a need. After all, it’s nothing new is it? Let’s look at the purpose for all this killing. Anyone else who does not share my beliefs, no matter how twisted or bizarre, deserves my wrath and a painful death. If this is part of some religious dogma, it’s not something I was taught. Anyone who does not submit to my will will suffer the consequences. No doubt that will be painful, according to said dogma. That doesn’t sound to me a compassionate part of any moral code.

I don’t wish to add more, except offer solutions. Beyond doubt, these violent desires are extreme. They are the result of our failures to find common ground. Of course there have been many injustices present and past. An awful lot not addressed. The polarity between rich and poor widens. A lot of minorities still do not have a voice; indeed some are still not even acknowledged. 

Is there not enough love, compassion and empathy between us? No. Can we find many more similarities than differences? Easily. We are one Nation, one tribe, since before religion or capitalism or any other ‘ism. God has not driven us apart, we have. This existence we share is not survival of the fittest. It is an altruistic fight for the survival of the LEAST fittest. Not for my, or your sake, but all those yet to follow us.

Love, joy and Peace, for all.

      

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A Sad Lament


I Will Go. When the fighting is over. The fighting Is over! No More War.

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Slaughter at Culloden.

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A stranger in a Strange Land; the soldier’s tale.

It is said by the thinkers of my day that man can kill without thought, and yet will give his life to save that of even a stranger. Well, I can only say that, for me, I was forced to kill by the redcoats, not having the luxury of such a noble action as saving anyone.
And yet I have had much time to think on my life, and my death, here alone with only my bones as company. ‘Twas a bad time for me and I curse the men who caught me in the gloom of my home town in the lowlands. They forced on me a shilling, and having taken it, given me a redcoat to fight their enemy, the highlanders, who called us sasanach.
I had no grouse against them, I just got on with earning a living best I could for Martha and the bairns. Just as they did on their crofts, but theirs was the hardest living I think. The Engelish treated them like vermin I was told, till a bonny lad from the Nether Lands saw their grief and used it for hisself. The news-sheets say he was a rebel come to stir up trouble for the Scott’s, but the clans believed him to be their rightful heir. In truth, I wish he had not come here.
But come he did, and roused the Highland clans to do his bidding. Fighting all the way down to Engeland before stopping before its capital and coming back. A weakness the King’s soldiers sought to use to avenge their brutality. Ha, I tell ye, isn’t all war brutal, neighmind who ye fight.
A great lord, the King’s son, the butcher, came to us and lead us north to engage the enemy. We were fairly treated and given vicuals, a sword and some a musket. On the battle field, a desolate moorland, we were given orders and put in groups. Some shit theyselves when they saw and heard the Highland clans, banging their swords against their shields. They in their rough tartans.
I heard the shout to march in formation, to the killing field. Memory does not serve me well thereafter. I yelled and slashed, stabbed, and fell. In the mindless slaughter my time seemed to stand still. I felt not a thing as the sword slashed at my neck, only the shit and piss running down my legs, warm, comforting strange to say. I have had no warmth since then, feeling only the cold damp sodden earth. And the wind blustering round the peat hags.
Here I remained, watching and watching, waiting for The Lord knows what. Seeing the sun come up and go down so many times, beyond count, seasons come and go. Then people came here, with their spades and shovels and dug trenches around my bones, the best to drain the peat. They came back, and with trowel and brush uncovered me with the greatest of care. Something upwelled in my soul, like the tears once shed as I lived. There in front of me was my father, looking just as I’d seen him afore taking the King’s Shilling. Resplendent as an angel. And many angels there were too. My dread melted away like sun on snow. My joy was such I cannot say, but oh, the glorious light shone down on us all.

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My Definition of Love.

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Odd discourses on, whatever!

DISCOURSE ONE.
Can someone fall in love with an idea? That is a question I have been intrigued by for years. Now I can answer: yes. Three months ago, or so,I listened to a song on Face Book. I was instantly transfixed by its simplicity and joy. I fell for its lyrics, it’s words, it’s message. It was sung beautifully, which made it even more appealing. But it was the words, the Idea that there could be a better world waiting for us to enjoy peacefully, that uplifted me. I felt my soul rejoice at the vision of heaven on earth.
Soon after my chance discovery, the song was hacked and appeared no more. I felt so disappointed, sad that no one else would get the chance to hear this joyful message, I commented on the Face Book page of the singer, Angie Zawada. She lost 10,000 views overnight. I was upset for myself, let alone anyone else, because it meant so much to me. The good news was that eventually it returned on Face Book, but the bad: it had to start from zero views. Now, as at the 5th March, it has 8,623 views. It is a song that will remain in my heart as long as I live. It answers, for me the question ‘What is this world coming to’ so often asked. The answer: it’s ‘Coming to Love’!

DISCOURSE TWO.
Science chooses not to follow religion or spiritual matters. Fine, but as Einstein himself wrote: “Science without religion is lame, religion without science is blind”. Throughout his life, Einstein credited much of his work to intuition. Could intuition mean, Learning Within? I think so. Ideas, solutions, new problems even, seem to ‘pop’ into the conscious brain. And science cannot explain how.
Now, here’s a thing: two articles I have just read in the March issue of Focus, a popular science magazine, cited the possibility, probability even, of the universe (and everything in it) being either a hologram or a computer simulation. The first possibility deals with information; the position and property of every particle/non particle in existence; this information being ‘held’ at the boundary of the universe itself. O K so far? The second possibility expounds the work done by some to explain us away as subjects of a computer simulation program, albeit an alien or futuristic one. This, for me, implies a ‘something’ or two that does the work. And what work! I do not think even future quantum computing would be up to the job, least of all because of our free will, which would put a variable of infinite complexity into the program.
Would it not be simpler to combine those ideas into the one I, at least, am more familiar with now. Such as the One, the Light of Love. As I explained in my blog, On the Wings of an Angel, the Big Bang equates as the One becoming the many. The One is all the information of what is, was and will be, self organising in a computer program way. So, in a sense We are the programmers of our own ‘simulation’. Occam’s Razor may apply here, since my hypothesis may make the fewest assumptions. What do you think?

DISCOURSE THREE.
Giving of your love on twitter of face book can be a lonely affair. There are times you feel your words are lost in the wind blowing onto your face, and they are not heard. Of course, at other times they strike a chord with the recipient, who then goes on to share their love too.
This word ‘Love’ is perhaps one of the most hard to define. See red box above for my definition.
Love is naturally linked with sex. The love shared by two adults, necessary to bring into the world new life, or just to bond two people, of whatever sexual pairing, together for a stable partnership.
It is important to be aware of meanings of words and their uses in context, especially in the association of love and sex. Love is not a chemical attraction, sex should not be seen as a one night stand. One word that has got me in trouble in the past is Impotence. Here is a dictionary definition:
Impotent, adjective.
Unable to take effective action; helpless or powerless.
(of a man) Unable to achieve a sexual erection.
Please note, the two statements are poles apart. When I say I feel impotent to have actually stopped an irresponsible action from taking place, the meaning, for most, should be clear. Impotence is a powerful word. It shows how helpless we can feel at times of need. We like to think we can help, and are distraught at the thought of failing.
So, we should not be quick to judge a word, or the character of the person using it, even if we are not entirely certain of its different meanings. Often we can derive some meaning when that word is used in context.

POEM ONE
The Soldier’s Lament

The taste of war is a bitter pill
We kill and maim against our will
But we your hero’s remember still
The taste of war.A bitter pill.
#love

POEM TWO
The Whale’s Song

The whale sings a song of joy
We sing a song of sorrow
Mourn the loss of these souls of the sea
For them, there will be no tomorrow.
#protect

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Sue in the hens den, among the ducks.

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