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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Hens teeth and the Ducks That Run You Ragged.

Hens teeth are pretty rare I must admit. Before the great dinosaur extinction, the forerunner of jungle fowl would probably have had teeth to cope with tougher vegetation and tougher insects too. I am glad to say hens and ducks devolved their teeth in favour of just beaks now. Three days ago an event happened that, even if it would not astound duck breeders, certainly wowed me. One of our ducks laid an EGG! An event that seemed as rare as hens teeth.
To give you some background, we have kept hens for about four years, and ducks for about two and a half years. We have had some ups and downs with the hens, particularly with feather pecking. I am sad to say, I have had to ‘dispatch’ four of our first hens due to their seriously disheveled state caused by a black rock hybrid, Henrieta. She really was a top pecking order bird, to the extent of mutilation, which I think may be rare. Any road, our new birds have settled and took to the ducks we later introduced like, well, ducks to water! I gave the ducks a little pond made from a wheel barrow body, then later made from a big galvanised cold water tank I removed from my loft. This pond now having flowing water pumped from a home made filter header ‘tank’ means the ducks can bathe in relatively clean water. That’s them sorted. The hens have their own chicken coop, ergonomically designed to make cleaning very easy. Sue is very fussy about their cleanliness, and the duck’s. To help the hens take their ‘minds’ off the pecking order, I arranged a little assault course for them, and made a second dust bath enclosure. Note, this has to be enclosed since the dust flies everywhere! Same with their indoor one, sheltered by their ‘overnight accommodation’ above. The hens laying bay is attached to this and accessed from the outside by a flap roof. The dear little things are very comfortable on their chopped straw bedding when they decide to lay an egg. Each hen has her own favourite spot; the problem is, they all like the same spot! Constructing dividers worked for a while, until they all reverted to their original favourites. I have seen three hens trying to get into the one division! So, back to plan A.
Night time is a bit of a routine ceremony. I like them perched up, so we can collect their droppings easily (we put newspaper down). Some, one or two, will jump up onto the perch, but the rest (we have 6 birds) won’t. So at dusk, they will wait for me to oblige, but they like to be closest to their door. Which creates a bottle neck of course. If one or two haven’t made it up the ramp before the blockage, well mostly they will hang about underneath. Having arrived to lift them all up onto their perch, I complete the job, being careful to put them in the right order. It has to be right because each may, and have, decide to swop places, nudging their neighbours out of the way. It is so comical to see! So settled, then I stroke each one and say good night.
You may think by now, I have completely lost it, but I ‘know’ they all settle better for the routine. It is easier to determine the character of each bird at this eye to eye level. A warning here, that’s not always true. Never bend down to look at a hen more closely, she may peck you in the eye! It didn’t hurt really, and I wasn’t cross with the bird. My silly fault. I should have remembered Alice Walkers accounts of keeping hens in her book ‘The Chicken Chronicles’. She Did say chickens are attracted to shiny objects, including eyes. After a visit to a fairly close hospital to test my eye for damage, I was declared fit for duty! No more temptations.
Except, that is for treats. Both the hens and ducks anticipate them whenever we are near to where we keep them i.e. the shed, making a complete racket. Dried meal worms mixed with mixed corn,layers mash and Luxury bird feed. It keeps them quiet for a while, anyway. Which reminds me, our neighbours love the sound of the hens and ducks, as do we. There is almost a language there. And they love ‘helping’ Sue to clean their homes out. They will also inspect Sue’s progress too. They are naturally curious about everything, odd noises, odd objects, odd people!
The ducks, well they are unique as far as we know. One didn’t start laying for about three months after we got them, and the other, six months. Although the same colour, I began to suspect one was male, by her/his behaviour. Then suddenly,she/he laid an egg! We enjoyed them for a couple of months or so, and then, nothing. And more nothing. I thought about giving them away, culling even. But eventually, I didn’t have the heart. They Were so engaging, so funny with their waddling. But at times, so stroppy! ‘We’ have a little routine, like the hens, that involves me shepherding them into their little hut. Except when the door blows to, or one decides, well, lets give him the run around shall we! That’s when they can run you ragged. Just like a silent movie with Charles Chaplin. Good entertainment for anyone watching.
But, oh Lordy, I wouldn’t want it any other way. Now, for my patience, one has decided to start laying again. Hence the ‘miracle’ egg. And we can look forward to baking with duck eggs again, unless….
Anyone thinking about keeping hens and ducks, let them check you out first!
Thanks for reading, till next time.
Love from me.

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Is this your ideal angel?

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So what do angels look like? I believe they are neither male or female, and have no familiar shape. They can ‘appear’, if they appear at all, as something pleasing. Such as a human with wings!

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On the Wings of an Angel; of Daemons and Men.

The curious reader of my last blog might have noticed an incongruous point in the telling of the tale of Art’ur. The Lord of Brittaine was born of two mortals, and lives today! He lives in the Land of the Fae and the Elfin, a place of No-Time, so is essentially immortal too. This leads me on to a tale long remembered and loved by many. It is of Thomas the Rhymer and the Queen of Elfin Land. To read the whole story see Ellen Kushner’s book Thomas the Rhymer.
Thomas falls asleep under a tree. In a ‘dream’ he thinks he awakes in heaven, whereupon he sees a Queen of immense beauty. Except she is an Elfin Queen, come to visit him. Her beauty leads Thomas with her to Elfin Land, where he spends seven years in her service. When he returns to his earthly existence, Thomas finds only a few hours have passed. This is a favourite ballad of mine that means more than story to me. There is a striking resemblance between Thomas’s adventure and an out of body experience. Falling into a deep trance like state, Thomas could think he was dead and in heaven. The Elfin Queen tells him she is not of heaven, but of another existence. The ‘time’ in Elfin Land is no time. Subsequently when Thomas awakes, he has ‘lost’ only the time spent asleep. This is as it is with near death experiences.
Many people have had NDE’s. During my open heart surgery, my heart was stopped so that the surgeons could replace a defective aortic valve. After the operating team had finished with me, I went to the Intensive care unit. Two or three hours later, the surgeons were called back after I developed complications. During all this time I was not aware, of course, of any activity at all. Before that complication was ‘sorted’, Sue, my wife, had a bad feeling and went to see if things were OK. She was met by a nurse coming to tell her things were not OK. Eventually, I was sewn up again and back in the ICU. Looking back eight years, after wondering: had I had an NDE?, now I can say yes, sort of. A week ago, I was tweeting to my friends, sharing the love and joy we all feel when we ‘meet’. This went on for a while, when suddenly I had an amazing and intense feeling of utter joy and love within a beautiful glow. So hard to put into words, I could not explain it other than a glimpse of heavenly love. Had the twitting jolted my repressed memory of that NDE? Without doubt, for I also felt I had been given a chance to share my love with all Earth’s souls. Sounds incredible? Yes it is.
How many of us believe in angels? Yes, I do, and not only believe, experienced their work too. I have always been aware of my many fortunes in this journey we call life. Without realising, I have been listening to my guardian angel. When that realisation finally dawned, I watched for signs (I cannot hear a voice in my head, as some do). When a white dove suddenly appears where non have ever been seen before, you notice. When the devastating anxiety you feel over a particular issue eases and then disappears whilst the white dove is there, you know it’s not You! Then when the dove vanishes, never to be seen since, well, that is special. These signs are beyond rational. Then why do others not know of their guardian? Perhaps they aren’t listening or watching for signs; more probably, they do not believe.
Guardian angels are not a ‘new’ phenomena, they have been around for thousands of years. Spirits of the ancestors have guided their progeny in many cultures, since time began. Socrates believed he had daimonion (a Devine ‘something’) that frequently warned him, by voice, against mistakes, but never told him what to do. This is exactly what Lorna Byrne describes of angels in her books. Your guardian angel can communicate a warning but can never overstep your free will. They exist to guide us through life and remain with us in death.
But there is more to daemons than this. As I have said, a guardian can warn or advise but never tell you to do something. As with Faeries, if we choose to ignore their warning, then ‘things’ can go really pear shaped. The foolish may prefer to believe they have been ‘wronged’ some way. Would it seem natural for the foolish to believe these daemons actually demons? Whatever, the name stuck. Even within the Church of God. And that is a sad thing indeed.
Why oh why do we twist things round; why deny the good, in favour of the bad. Is it due to insecurity, the feeling that we are alone to the realities, the ‘horrors’ of life? Is it the fear of separation? We do not listen to our guides, or watch for their signs. We deny their existence as scientifically impossible, since there is no empirical evidence that will stand up ‘in court’. And we go on blundering about, in darkness.
Time then to turn back towards the Light. In This uncertain Reality we see with our eyes; we must start to see with our hearts. Therein is a much different world; one of Love and Light. A Love so pure, it is beyond sadness or fear. A light so beyond reasoning, it comforts and tenderly holds us with all the Joy of that Love. Never will you imagine such a feeling till you see ‘heaven’. And, when your time has come, all the way there, you will be carried on the Wings of an Angel.
Love and Light,
Andrew.

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