Sunday, August 25, 2013

Eyes, Heart, Soul

Perhaps, one day, someone might look into my heart and see that I am a good person. Full of love, peace and light.

How will you see that? By looking into my eyes. My eyes tunnel to my heart and soul. They show you a glimpse of who I truly am.

Perhaps, nobody will ever take the time to really look into my eyes. To look deep and long. Perhaps, I will be on my own, forever.

I won't. I am never on my own.

Despite the horror, burnt and scarred, my eyes have also captured the beauty around me. I will carry those jewels always. They can never be separated from me. From who I am. Nor from you and who you are. They are a constant, glinting, even in the longest, darkest night.

Perhaps, one day, two people will look into each others eyes and see the same thing.

Whoever you are. You are not on your own. You might be by your self, but you are not on your own.






Friday, August 23, 2013

Peace

I am not a religious person, but readily admit to being a spiritual person.

I really like people passionate about what they believe in.

This site inspires me  http://www.peacepilgrim.org/

I wish the world had fewer soldiers and more people like her in it.


"This is the way of peace: Overcome evil with good, falsehood with truth and hatred with love."

Thursday, July 25, 2013

Cream Soda

Last night, as like most nights, I had very little sleep. I was still awake at 0430, despite trying to get to sleep in every position known to man. Tonight is a repeat performance.

I am wondering if I am pregnant. Not by the size of my abdomen, but by an overwhelming desire, a pathological need for cream soda! I haven't drunk it since I was a kid. I remember when I first tasted it. Ice cold on a scorching hot day. Simple pleasures. Memory makers.

So, up I got, walked a mile or so, to Asda. Good old 24 hour Asda. On the way, I was divebombed by gulls. It would take more than that to stop me. On arrival, I hurriedly asked a worker if they had cream soda. They're coming down with it. All shapes and sizes. They must also sell it to people who aren't insomniacs, as the place was empty.

Anyway, I got my six pack and started the walk home. As soon as I was outside, I popped one. Pure nectar satiated my thirst. Perhaps a thirst for the comfort of years ago. Childhood memories that make us feel a bit gooey, like when arms are wrapped around you; and all feels okay in your world. Or when someone stands beside you and you know you're in it together, no matter what.

I hate the fact that some children don't have that. Some children have horrible lives. Unimaginably horrible lives. Cream soda isn't going to fix it for them. Neither is a pair of arms around them. Some of them won't ever want arms around them, or bare to be touched at all.

But metaphorically, we need to embrace them, to protect them, to let them shine again. To stand beside them and say 'enough'. Otherwise, it's not only going to be me wandering the streets at night; and its unlikely that they will be drinking just cream soda from cans.

PROTECT CHILDREN. DON'T JUST TALK ABOUT IT.




Friday, July 19, 2013

My Dad

Born to be a soldier. Nobody could bull boots like him. He's the one in the middle. Sorely missed....

This was taken in Germany, where we lived.  They don't make them like him any more.  He was quiet, yet funny. A gentleman, who would help anyone, but if you're a bully, best to avoid him. Later in life, every kid in the place used to bring things to him to fix. Always a smile.












Friday, June 14, 2013

Yin and Yang

Yesterday, I was out for a walk, minding my own business, meandering down a hill, on a busy road. Traffic was heavy. I then saw a really old car come to a stop. Dead, in the middle of traffic.  It was driven by an elderly chap, who got out of the car, very flustered. In the passenger seat was an even older gent. I crossed the road and when I heard the engine turn over I knew it was the camshaft belt - big ouch!

Anyhow, I needed to get them off the main road. A white van was now behind them, so I signalled that I was going to push them. Mr white van man wasn't happy. He pulled out and gave me the finger! Couldn't wait 10seconds. I had a John Wayne moment, you know where he says 'why I oughta', except I expressed it in a different way (internally) :-).

Yin.

Got there in the end.  Two lovely brothers,  80 and 88. The older chap got a bit anxious and he hasn't been well. I suggested getting a taxi to take him home, whilst we waited for a recovery vehicle. Rang them and a gentleman of a taxi driver turns up.  I explained what happened and went to give him the fare.  Nope,  he'll sort it. His pleasure.

Yang.

Rang the chap's insurance company recovery agent. Despite the age etc,  two hour wait and 'he's got the basic plan'.

Yin.

Two hours bumping the gums and takeaway tea, with a true character, who used to be a Bobby, ahem, a few years ago. Tried to pay me for my time and for helping him. No chance.

Yang.

It's all Yin and Yang :-)







Monday, May 20, 2013

Leave

a poem about messing up in love....


Leave

Carry my dreams

On silent wing

Return

To sing

Only of love

Joy, bring

Fly, straight

Taut heart string



A Kestrel that I photographed, not far from where I live.  Beautiful, yet dangerous.  Like love....


Friday, May 17, 2013

Stripping

the country bare.

Fire Service to be overhauled again - no doubt leading to a reduction in service and more deaths.

Social workers to be fast-tracked and able to manage cases after 5 weeks.

Really?  Really?

At least all this helps my mood.....

Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Heart

Surges
Through the night
Cutting
Through the light

He pleads
We race
Revving
Murder case

He cries
Through my eyes
Shared pain
As he dies

Carried
To the cold
I'll see you
Until I'm old



Wednesday, April 24, 2013

In Memoriam


Today, I learnt of the passing of a friend of mine. A soldier. He was a young man, with a young family. This is my small tribute to him.

When someone passes, I always remember the friendship that we shared. When I do that, I always remember the shortest poem in the world. It was delivered by Muhammad Ali in 1975, at a Harvard (Boston) graduation lecture. Fitting, in view of recent events there. Someone in the audience shouted out, asking him for a poem.

He put his hand to his chest and said the word 'Me'. He then opened his arms, looking at the audience and said 'We'.

'Me, We.' A poem about togetherness, kinship and bond.

Me Becomes We as We Become One.

In memoriam. Sleep well.

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Why Caer Ibormeith?


Why?

1. I like mythology.  I like this story, because I believe in love.  With what is going on in the world at the moment, there is always plenty of room for love.

2. Caer Ibormeith is the goddess of sleep.  I wish that she would play her soothing music.  I don't sleep.  It's not that I don't want to, it's that I don't.  I can't.  I know why I can't.  Someone very clever has told me.  I knew before I went to see him.  I only went to see him because I was off sick with 'fatigue'.  'Fatigue' was easier to swallow.  I returned for a day.  A nurse from work rang me and asked me if I was okay.  I couldn't answer her.  Couldn't speak.  Luckily, she didn't try and make me.  Instead, she rang the clever man.

Although I think that labels are best left for jam jars, I'll reluctantly accept that I am suffering from PTSD and a 'related' depression. Related sounds nice doesn't it?  It's not.

Unfortunately, I was involved with something properly nasty last year. It has been chasing me and has cornered me.  I have seen plenty like it before, but there are some significant differences with this one.  I can't go into details here as it has yet to go to court.

I have tried medication.  I have tried walking the streets all night.  I have tried drinking so much alcohol that I couldn't feel my feet.  I've tried putting my head down and wishing that I wouldn't wake up.  I just never went to sleep!

I'm going to try writing it down.  It is not self-indulgence.  Not today, the day after the bombs in Boston.  I am acutely aware of what is going on in the world, outside this little head.  The reason that I published it today is because I had to.  It has got to that point.  For a long time now, my favourite word has been 'tomorrow'.  'I'll do it tomorrow'.  Tomorrow has arrived.

In many ways, this man gave me the swingers to write it: http://eastbelfastiswonderful.blogspot.co.uk/2011/10/darkness-at-edge-of-townthis-milk.html  We have a lot in common.  I could have written it myself (I didn't).

I am writing anonymously.  There are reasons for that.  Not least that, because of my job, I can face sanctions for what I write.  Also, there still remains a work culture of limited understanding of these issues.  I forgive you.  I coped like that for years.  I might again. Thankfully, people like Nathan are trying to change it: http://nathanconstable.wordpress.com/2013/04/15/the-man-in-the-hole-a-personal-blog-on-depression/

Some may know who I am.  Please keep it that way.  Please don't telephone or text me about what I write here.  I will tell you that I am feeling better thanks and hope that you are okay.

Why would I do that?  Because I used to be the clever (it's all relative) man that the nurse rang.  I'd help fix you.  I was good at it.  I worked tirelessly at it.  Spent years training for it.  It has been a struggle beyond belief to change seats.  At the minute, the properly clever man is fighting with me for it :-).

I'll let you know how he gets on.

Take good care.






Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Caer Ibormeith

The story goes that the first inhabitants of Brugh na Bóinne ("Newgrange") were the goddess Bóinn and her 'husband' Nuadhu Nechtan, otherwise known as Elcmar, 'the envious one'.

The Dagdha, father of the gods, lusted after the goddess Bóinn. So he sent Elcmar on a journey which would take a night and a day, that he and the goddess Bóinn could spend the night together. The Dagdha then put a spell on the sun, causing it to stand still, stretching one day and night to nine months during which time the Dagdha lay with the goddess Bóinn, and she bore him a son, whom she called Aonghus Mac Óg because "young is the son who is conceived at the start of the day, and born between that and evening".

When Elcmar returned, believing that only a day and night had passed, he remained ignorant of events, as the Dagdha had taken Aonghus to the Rath of Midhir where he was trained to be a champion hurler.

However, some years later, during a quarrel with another player, Aonghus Mac Óg learnt of his true parentage. At that time the Dagdha, was distributing the Sídhe among the gods, and Aonghus decided to go to the Dagdha to seek his rightful heritage. The Dagdha told him that there was nowhere left for him, but that he should go to Brugh na Bóinne at Samhain and demand possession of the Brugh from Elcmar for a day and a night.

This he did, but when the time was up, Aonghus refused to leave the Brugh, claiming that he had been promised 'day and night', of which eternity is composed.
Elcmar then called on the Dagdha to give his judgement over the situation; and the Dagdha ruled that 'it is indeed in day and night that all time is spent'. So, through a play on words Aonghus Mac Óg gained possession of the Brugh for all time.

Aonghus held splendid court at Newgrange. But one night he was visited in a dream by a beautiful maiden, who vanished when he put out his arms to embrace her. All the next day Aonghus took no food. Upon the following night, the fair apparition came again, and played and sang to him. That following day he also fasted. So things went on like that for a year, while Aonghus pined and wasted for love.

Eventually the physicians of the Tuatha prevailed upon him to act, his mother the goddess Bóinn was sent for, and she persuaded the Dagdha, his father, to send to all the lesser deities of Ireland, charging them to search for her. After a year she was found by Aonghus's brother, Bodbh the Red, who brought him to see her.

Her name was Caer Ibormeith, meaning Yew Berry; and when Aonghus saw her, she was standing by a lake surrounded by thrice fifty maidens linked together by a silver chain. But when Aonghus asked her Father for her hand in marriage he revealed that there was nothing he could do, as his daughter was a swan-maiden, and every year as soon as summer was over, she went with her companions to a lake called Lough Dragan, 'The Mouth of Sloes', and all of them became swans.

On the advice of the Dagdha, Aonghus went to the shore of the lake and waited in patience until "Samhain", the day of the magical change, and called to her. Caer appeared along with thrice fifty swans, herself a swan surpassing all the rest in beauty and whiteness, and promised to be his bride, if he too would become a swan. He agreed , and with a word she changed him into a swan. Together they flew three times around the lake, and took off side by side for Brugh na Bóinne where they put the dwellers of that place to sleep for three days and three nights with the magic of their singing.

At Aonghus's palace they retook the human form and they have lived happily there ever since.

The Lesser Known Soldier


The lesser known soldier


You sit there, drinking your wine

Forgetting how, I can't drink mine

I gave my life, far too soon

You have a drink, way before Noon



Get past the acts of self pity

Life is not easy, always gritty

I am a warrior, by your side

Stand up, find courage, change your tide



There's always an excuse to fail

A reason to be sick, sad, pale

Get up, move towards the light

I'll stand beside you in the fight

My love poem

Your love
Lingers
Flutters in my heart
Strokes my soul

It soothes me
Enlivens me
Completes me
Makes me whole

Without you
I am lost
Withered
A diamond back to coal

My love
Is timeless
Boundless
Written in stars

It grows each second
As you light my world
It is mine
But both of ours

Know
I love you
Adore you
My Venus, My Mars