Category Archives: Challenges

Into Our 50th Year Together

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Autmn

26th October 1973** we made promises and vows to stay together and look after each other no matter what.

And here we are 26th October 2023. Quiet, with each other. For a myriad of reasons there will be no great celebrations, no gathering of a host. It never works out that way, because it’s not our style.

50 years and like a lot of folks out there, it’s not been an easy passage of those years. No cheerful advert style montage. Like most of us, a lot of hard work, upset, disappointment; maybe worse than some but less painful than a lot. And times we can look back on a laugh a bit, or remember with fondness.

We’re still together though, chugging along our own way one which was melded out of the trial and error, ups and downs. And if this was what it took for us to get here, together still, 50 years on; then let it be so. For we have no cheerful or wise recipe to hand out. We got here because we did. Because we could not imagine being without the other I guess and as writers we have pretty good and vivid imaginations.

So, 50 years on. In Love. But don’t ask for a definition of that either, for to do so is to spoil the feeling and distort the image with clumsy words. It simply is. 50 years it simply is. (and yes I know, technically it can be argued 50 years will have only passed on 26th October 2024- don’t care) .

In this world where the senseless and random acts of cruelty and greed strike without warning at numberless innocents, this one globally small, quiet event is one which makes does make sense and gives me Hope.

** (Of all the people to have just the right song too!)

Religion. Another Viewpoint (With Some Assistance From Quantum Mechanics & Cosmology)

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WorldReligions-164107922-c72cce704d4d4521962046df4fa8ce3f

NB- This will also be very long, because the subject matter is not to be fitted into snappy one-liners. It will also be very short of quotes; the reason being quotes with the best will in the world (or especially, the worst will) are going to be selective to argue a case. I’m not going to fall back on that. This is simply my view, in my words…. ok, with a few links just to illustrate complexities in the science side. I leave it up to you to go seeking evidence one way or another.

This is another one I have started out (in my mind anyway)- several times. You may recall I earlier on this year felt obliged to voice a common challenge Christians face and I would venture to suggest folk of other faiths face at times:

One Christian’s Confession

Now my faith remains, yet so do those misgivings over some aspects taught to us. This post is not about those issues though. This is about the experience of being a Christian, in a Middle (Aside: Cosmically speaking there is  no ‘The Middle’ as we know it. Only your own perspective from your local focal point. The Universe does not subscribe to our limited perceptions -that’s me mixing religious and scientific by the way). The Middle I wish to discuss is the one which sees; on one side an abrupt generalised dismissal of all theistic belief and believers and on the other side those who do evil and sheer opportunistic folly under the guise of theistic belief. In this case, of course, I repeat I use the Christian perspective, it would be crass to impose upon the beliefs of the moderates and liberals of other religions.

There is a particular reason why I gave a nod to ‘Quantum Mechanics’ and that relates to a concept known as The Waves -Particle Duality, in short having two properties at once. Have fun reading this:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wave%E2%80%93particle_duality

This has its parallels with the majority of Christians. The majority accept the status of The vastness of everything through the scientific lens while adhering to their faith. That actually takes some doing. As one Jesuit priest astronomer said ‘Every day I study the stars I am challenged’. After all we have a Bible to go on while on the other hand we have the wealth of knowledge which goes from the wonderous massive magnificence revealed by Cosmology down to the mind-stretching infinitely small domain of Quantum. And everything in between. One Being brought all that into existence and can also claim they know everyone one of us. How is that supposed to work?….Uh????

That’s where Faith, be it leaping or just standing still, comes in. Now the majority of us have A Faith. This comes in many forms. I ask you to pause and reflect on that. Think on what you hold true to be in a view, a relationship, something which is always there in your background. An aspect which appears to be steadfast irrespective of the rest of the world around you. Think deep on that. That’s a Faith. Faith transcending what seems to be the case of the world around you. It exists despite the apparent practicalities you have come to learned. It defies the logic you have been told is so. And sometimes part of its nature might be founding wanting. You’ll find a lot of that in Quantum. There, I am back with the Quantum-thing again. Research still continues there into the contradictions and the apparently evasive. Thus any Christian honest with themselves and the relationship with their Faith has met doubts, unsatisfactory conclusions, mysteries which remain just out of reach. Those do not stop us believing. The question is not finding ‘An Excuse’ or ‘A Platitude’ to answer the difficult issues. It’s a question of going In Deep, to use Faith as a foundation to work from. If you consider Science you will find in its history that answers or solutions were and still are being constantly overturned because they do not fit the model. Let’s look at that. From A Middle. Or using cosmological metaphors to be more analogous. From Planet Me. 

The Bible – An average moderate Christian gets a bit queasy about parts of The Old Testament, particularly the opening books. These seem to support incest, genocide, suppression of women, the punishment of same-sex relationships, heroes and figureheads having multiple sexual relationships and that’s before we get to ‘A Jealous God’ who is likely to wipe you out with a snap of the fingers because of some minor misdemeanour. Such passages are leapt upon by intolerant Fundamentalists who gleefully announce their excesses of Hate, Intimidation and Violence are but carrying out the Word of God, while their atheistic opponents have the easy task to use the same as evidence that these beliefs are flawed. And the Moderates get lambasted by the Fundamentalists as not believers and going to Hell (Hoorah!) while Atheistic folk look aghast and say to any moderate ‘But how can you belief that?’

OK. If we look at the Four Gospels used in most branches of Christianity we have at the centre Jesus. Basically the Son of God sent into our world to take on Human form and ‘suffer death’ to cleanse us of all our sins, Past, Present and Future. The Four Gospels reflect four different reporters of the story. Nothing wrong with that, have you ever encountered an event in which ALL of the reports are exactly the same. Really? No you haven’t. Anyway here’s another old post of mine concerning that subject:

A Case for The Christian Easter Actually Happening

The New Testament Gospels have their own issues. Though nothing as useful to the Fundamentalists as they can take out of context from The Old Testament. However the two parts are linked and whereas there are some branches who will claim you don’t need the Old Testament because Jesus’s coming into the world did away with those books, unless you are looking to play a lazy Anti-Semitism card, that don’t work.

But here is the aspect which bears repeating over and over and over about the Old Testament. Firstly it is a collection of written accounts based on oral accounts, or in some cases religious interpretated historical events OR codes of practice based on the social circumstances of the time. Secondly the accounts are translation of one of several versions of local languages and dialects, using poetical imagery, which have been translated into Greek and then into Latin and then into English (at least once each)…so you can imagine that what was said, why and when, would likely be not perfectly translated and represented in today’s English (whatever version). In short you just don’t go looking for a bit underline it or dog ear your Bible and say ‘Ah-ha! That’s why I can be terrible to other people!’ Theologically speaking we’re also a flawed, cussed and arrogant lot, thinking we know best, which is why God has to keep telling us we’re wrong. Not that even Jesus’s supreme sacrifice on the Cross seems to have sluiced out our flaws. Thus quoting ‘bits’ to suit your intolerances- that is a load man, you are just bigoted- period! (Apologies to the late Michael Herr for plagiarism of ‘Despatches’- again) 

Change of tack again. Just to personally slip back to The Science Area, Quantum and Cosmological (Very, very, very small and very, very, very big). There I was with three puzzling issues trying to comprehend Christianity, AND Quantum AND Cosmological, when gradually they all slide into place. All three cannot be taken at what seems to be a swift-throw away face vale, all need some study, pondering, and ‘gosh are they not hard to get around?’ There appear to be contradictions, there appear to be unfathomable, no one appears to agree on one set of rules, laws or perceptions, and so on. Thus it came to me, ‘this is how it is’. Nothing is straightforward, nothing can be encapsulated in a simple few words. All needs study and reflection. All is the same. For me the melding of the perspectives of Science and Religion became a most liberating time. Giving room to deal with the challenges, like trying to comprehend 150 billion galaxies (not stars) in the observable universe or getting your head around the Quantum concept that the nature of a particle being affected by it being observed OR your Belief and Faith being tested. No need to worry about The Purpose of Life. It just is.

One aspect of the Theistic and Atheistic conflict which strikes me as having an Irony the size of one of those Galaxies, is the way some arguments on both sides get hung up on the same piece of English estimate of what was originally said. Like somebody says the World was created in Seven Days because it says so in the English, and then somebody mocks the religion because of what a fundamentalist said, as if we all believed that. The Irony being that both sides are buying into the same statement. It’s like the fundamentalist has convinced the atheist, this is something to argue about. As if the description of the Time Scale matters. Or that everyone believes it or should believe it has only one direction and value, which by the way it doesn’t.

Navigating back to the Quantum and Cosmological aspects of this post, I would suggest brief visits to sensible academic sites, where you will encounter a variety of views, suggestions and ideas (avoid the calculations that’s like reading a theological treatise on The Holy Trinity concept- your mind will spin). There is a great deal out there based on Laws, however there are always differing the interpretations and the suggestions that those laws might not have actually always been quite that way. The whole is an ongoing process. Everything is ongoing. We are children learning, or being wilfully difficult.

From my own perspective I reason that if this is the case, and since God set the whole in motion, it follows a simple reasoning, that resorting to Confirmation Bias is not the satisfactory way to seek deeper into one’s faith and beliefs. Working on the basis that God is perfect we cannot be perfect because we are not God, therefore being flawed we have to work through a great deal of difficult and challenging questions. Just like Cosmologists or Quantum Physicists are involved with. There we are again; the two concepts are intertwined. Including those times when a person can get frustrated or discouraged by the immensity of the task. To emphasise once more, Nothing Can Be Neatly Fitted* Into How You Want It no matter how good or bad you wish to portray it. The closest you will get to that is with a Human Flawed Perception of ‘Things’

And there is that troublesome word again ‘Human’.

Religion– Used by more than a few as an excuse for war, or other acts of violence, or just intolerance. And wilful ignorance of or objection to progress, even when benefitting from that progress. Also, a handy tool for the hypocrite and the opportunist. Of course, I could put up a pretty good case against any form of secular governance on the same basis. There again let’s be neat about it and condemn Politics and Religions all in one go. Isn’t that *neat-ly fitted? What we need is good honest scientific progress?

Progress– We have much to be grateful for in the research into atomic and sub-atomic particles. Look how much Quantum has revealed:

Applications of quantum mechanics – Wikipedia

Mind you that research into the atom and its constituents did lead to the splitting of the atom and observing the release of energy….and sorry folks but…. Nuclear Weapons. That is the trouble make an advance and the next thing you know some Human grouping talks about weaponising it. Weaponry doesn’t spontaneously evolve, Humans develop it. You find a Human idea and you are going find a benefit and a mis-use, also several loud and long arguments about how to approach and utilise that idea. Humans, that’s the issue folks. Not just Religion then. Might as well throw Economics into the mix.

I could go on and on with more analogies, examples, arguments, discussion and so forth. Why, gee,  I haven’t even got around to the question of The Historical Approach, nor the sometimes amusing, sometimes hysterical lengths both sides of the divide will go to support their point. Both using out of context statements, hurtful language and demonstrating Intolerance and quite a bit of Ignorance in pursuit of that good old Confirmation Bias. Don’t try and drag me or several millions others into either side of your squabble. We’re waiting to sort it out with God, as far as we are concerned, that is where The Last Word is. And there are those for the record who in addition to being professional scientists are theists too. It’s all a question of  perspective

Basically limited thinking in a Universe about 14 billions years old and possibly 90+ billions light years…..errr…big? While at the other end of the scale particles which don’t do as we might think they should. Basically, arrogance in trying to claim we know the mind of the Being that brought the Whole into existence….Apparently only in one language, to a selected few, of one race or creed….Yeah like that’s going to resonate through the Universe, which God created.

Try this:

Tolerance

Respect

Compassion

Co-operation

You can even add on a few positives if you want. How and why you believe doesn’t matter to me as long as you are trying to stick with those….Not easy. WE can agree of that. Yes?

Now it would not be such a post without a part set aside for some impassioned commentary. So, as parting words, for those who do not visit my site, will most likely not read this. For everyone else this is what I have to say to them in that unlikely event they arrive and stridently tell me I am wrong.

Do not tell me that it is the Will of God and that Jesus Christ died on the Cross so that you could persecute others because they don’t fit your ideas of gender, are the wrong colour, because they were forced into medical choices for situations you did nothing to help with, because they seek out Our Lord God along different paths. Don’t you dare. I renounce you as Christians.

And …Over to the other side. Do not tell me that to follow my Faith is somehow dangerous to society, and I am to be shunned for my beliefs, that I am wrong, because quite frankly you know nothing about me and all you are doing is profiling, just like any other narrow minded hypocrite. The other side of the coin. I renounce you too. And don’t try and tell me it is all a delusion because you cannot take me to the place in the Universe and categorically say ‘Look this is where God should be, and there is nothing,’. You may believe it, but you cannot tell me I am wrong for believing otherwise. And sorry some guys but some schools of Logic haven’t got a place in this debate. This is a Science and Faith zone. Your Latin quotes won’t cut it here.

OK, for the rest of you guys who read my posts. Read and questions and poke holes if you find them. I know you all and respect your concerns and questions.

Also I confess to a smidge of mischief, mixing Religion, Quantum Physics and Cosmology into one post. But, I’m one of those (not the first) who just could not resist it. It had to be done. They cannot be avoided.

No Shortage of Crises. Nor Folk To Suffer In The Solving #Blog Battle : August -Sacrifice

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Sacrifice

It wasn’t part of the mission but being so close by he had to take a detour. Once more pay his respects and see this time if any of the ghosts wanted to talk over old times.

LifeGuard Fileman Trex once more looks upon the ruins of Parledach. Cities that suffered prolonged sieges with the expected sackings did not come back quickly. And Parledach had been a very bad one. Just one in three of The LifeGuard Company of Engineers had come out, Captain had died with guts torn open, and veteran Sergeant Ferred had finally broke, and slit his own throat. Only one of his friends had come out, the laconic ‘Cheerful Chye’ and then.

Then they’d been given a ‘Community Mission’ one of those they did for villagers and all small towns to prove The LifeGuard could be nice and helpful. Repairing a bridge. What could be easier? Only Chye had slipped on a plank giving way and had plunged into the fast-flowing river. Lost. He’d survived Parledach dammit. He was helping folk. Where was the justice in that? Sacrificed for being good.

They finished the work, but after that last loss what was left of Company no longer had any morale to give and its various troopers were disbanded to other units.   He had been not so much an engineer, more a trooper who defended engineers about their work. Another one sent to fill up a gap. He did the work for three of his then ten years. Killing, saving, surviving. He was useful in any place where the LifeGuard worked.

And ended up at an Outpost a relatively quiet posting, with its Hounds file, those who scouted, and did things to make sure the area the Outpost covered remained, relatively quiet. Maybe some of the folk on the receiving end didn’t deserve what was meted out, maybe they could have been made to see the errors of their ways, but as every trooper knew in keeping the stability of The Empire, small sacrifices had to be made, or taken, or something like that. After all, if you didn’t there’d been another Parledach.

Dismounted he crouched on the grass and looked out over the jagged gap, the place where they had finally blown down the main doors and let the imperial army swarm in. A city to be sacked. The LifeGuard units did not stay when that started, they were ordered out. Not their problem anymore. Anyway, all units were worn down from their specialist tasks. They had paid their dues. LifeGuard were normally like thin blades in the night. Not to be used as blunt instruments. Whatever imperial general or noble on the ground who had thought the sacrifices were worth it, well a long-serving trooper knew LifeGuard command would have attended to him, its own way. When lent out to the Imperial its troopers were not to squandered.

Only the memories drifted in. The ghosts still didn’t seem inclined to be wanting to talk. Well, he wasn’t about to disturb their rest.

‘Sleep well,’ he began and spoke each name, faces still clear in his memories.

One set of recollections led to another. A short while after joining Outpost Dorigen, who should ride in with a whole pack horse’s worth of equipment but Medician Beritt. The blonde haired ‘suddie’ trooper Beritt who had been with them at that damn town. She who had dragged men back to trenches, patched and sewn them, saved some. When she had arrived at the Outpost, she was lean and long-staring, but after a year in the friendly neighbourhood, being sent to work her healing skills for locals and delighting a few girls, she had softened. Getting recompense, he reckoned for her own costs. All LifeGuard paid those out. Some forgot they could get recompense, only the paying out seemed to satisfy them. They went down The Long Road, they never came back until Death coming a’calling brought them rest, at least it was hoped it did.

At that outpost, all was settling down quite well, when something involving The Astatheia or Ethereal or Stommigheid, call it what you will came up. Hounds went off with Beritt in tow. Things went into a Second and Third Hell’s worth of chaos in a town called Prendaelyn where they were chasing down a culprit just as some pirates raided. The Hounds should have all been crushed by a falling building but someone or something using that Astatheia made it slow down and they just got buried in a cellar. Sergeant Erzns and Trooper Norvan were invalided out to hobble around the bastion, Castle Drygnest. Trex always reckoned that hurt Erzns a bit, the man was made for riding out and far. Dangerous ending. That place had a wide share of sergeants and filemen not suited for The Outside anymore, ending up drinking their spare time away, or jumping off the battlements into the sea.

From there it had gone peculiar like you couldn’t rid yourself of that Astatheia, every mission involved some trace of it, and Beritt with those other two girls always turning up. With the strangest tales around them.

Always with a quirky funny twist in them though.

Scratching his stubble, he let slip a soft laugh of reminiscence. You had to hold those good times very close, particularly when you were riding solo on despatch duties. He never liked working alone. You knew where you were with a file, good or bad, it was a family, replacing the one long gone from years of duty. But he had been so good at surviving, it got noticed. Veteran good at staying alive, ideal for getting papers to and from places, at a pace.

The trouble with that was there were folk who wanted to know what those papers were, who had no business knowing, and there were others who didn’t want the papers to get where they were going. Some could go crazy if they thought too much about where those papers might end up, if that was the place they were supposed to end up?

That’s why troopers like him were chosen, you got a sense for these things, knowing whether the person you were supposed to hand them over to was actually that person. Maybe you had to be a kind of crazy to be able to think that way. Maybe

‘You always were a sly one Trex,’

And there he was, as doleful looking as ever but still with the hint of understanding how things were. His thick-set body and features still intact.

‘Cheerful Chye’ Trex said, surprised, not frightened, glad. ‘You finally got here,’

‘Yeah. Washed up in a stream full of reeds. Wasn’t sure about what was what until I realised, I wasn’t breathing. So had to be a ghost. It’s difficult y’know? Trying to get direction when you’re dead. There’s lots on this side wandering, but Parledach? Well, that’s a place I was bound to get to. And you all shining with The Ethereal?’

Up until then the conversation had been sort of easy for Trex to follow. But him with The Astatheia? What the scraith was that all about?

‘Ethereal? Is that any different from Astatheia? Is that where you come from these days?’

‘Couldn’t tell you that Trex. We’ve not got any old fellah with a beard halfway down his chest and an inclination to talk at length,’

Trex looked at his hands. He remembered that dark girl with Beritt, her hands were supposed to glow red and blue at times. His weren’t. He was floundering here.

‘I didn’t touch any of the stuff,’ he complained ‘I didn’t get drenched in it, like some do,’

‘You don’t get all-seeing, all-hearing just because you are a ghost Trex. No, I don’t know anything about that. Only I don’t get what you’d call rest. That’s all. Seems to be a trooper’s fate,’

Trex pressed on trying to make sense.

‘I’ve been here three times in the last five years. Nothing like this has happened before. What’s all this about Chye? Have you got some sort of message from,’ his voice took on an ironic tone ‘The Other Side,’

Chye smiled always a wry, crooked thing.

‘Yeah. Deliver your despatch and get back here. I’ll be waiting,’

‘Aww, scraith,’

As if delivering a despatch under strained situations was not bad enough, now he was holding discourses with a ghost, who had once been a friend they’d shared a lot with and was now being mysterious.

Trex rode off, in a foul mood. He reckoned that was better than being troubled. Troubled got you distracted. Foul put an edge on your senses.

He reached the appointed location. A reasonably sized village on a market day. He walked in leading his horse, riding made you too good a target. He was approached by a fellow driving a cart. The horse shied; the drover swore at him blaming his beast for scaring his. He swore back. In the sort of daily altercation of Anywhere, the despatch pouch was slipped into the hay. Trex and the drover went their separate ways grumbling about the other idiot. Trex visited the local tavern for a drink and a meal and sat with his back to the wall. He rode out, swigged peppermint for the indigestion always brought on by bad tavern food combined with the tension of such a delivery.

In the settling dusk of a late summer’s day, he stopped in an open place affording good all-around vision and rested. That village had smelt of ambush. Maybe it had fallen on the drover instead. He should worry? He’d done his bit, and anyway, there were ghosts in his life now.

‘I’m getting too old for this,’ he said, out loud for once.

‘Me too,’

Knife out, swinging around into a crouch, peering into the gloom Trex was confronted by a ridiculously young fellow. Ridiculous for agreeing and sounding like he meant it. And lying there, hands knitted together, like he had nothing better to do.

‘Fileman Trex? It is. Isn’t it? I’m Trooper Wailsteg,’

‘Talk informative and clear trooper,’

‘That knife has seen some work I bet. Anyway, been keeping watch. Not for that despatch. Not my concern. It’s about you stopping off at Parledach and ghosts,’ Wailsteg sighed, bitterly ‘So they sent me out of my cosy Outpost. My Captain thinks the orders were just to keep an eye on you despatching and report back. Y’know how it goes,’

‘I used to,’ Trex said. That face might be young, but those eyes had age crammed into them too fast ‘Talk on trooper,’

Wailsteg eased up from his prone position into seating, hands now clasped about his legs, he rocked slightly.

‘It’s the Ethereal or whatever you want to call it. Stuff has been going on for the past five or six years like it’s leaking out. Apparently, it’s affecting folk more than usual, some say choosing. Folks at Castle Drygnest have been watching. What with ghosts an’ all. You’ve been noticed Fileman. Drygnest wants you for its own, like me and a few dozen others of course,’

‘You’re not making much sense there Trooper. You’re good at the soft approach, but your explaining needs work,’

The boy’s face hardened.

‘That’s because I know scraith all as much as you’re likely to know it the next year or so. They, whoever they are want you to be triple layer. Ordinary trooper, courier,’ he spread his hands ‘And this. You met ghosts. Go and talk to ghosts. Find out what they have to say and report back. NO, I don’t know to who. Gotta go now. Make up a report to my Captain,’

He slipped away.

Trex was bone tired but did not sleep. The world was coming at him from all directions.

In the morning he would ride back to Parledach. Talk to ghosts. They had things for him to do, and so would the LifeGuard.

And experience taught him, he could not get out of any of it.

One Christian’s Confession

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Left SideRight Side

Sometimes. For better or for Worse. For no specific reason, you just have to try and put down into words on something which will not let you rest. You know you may be risking censure, incredulity, dismissiveness, even mockery. You don’t care though. Whatever it is that drives you to write will not let you rest until the jumble of thoughts are put out there into some attempt at coherence. You don’t even expect to put A Case that will win any sort of approval. You just have to write.  Irrespective.

Back about…..several months ago I was going to write one of my ‘Why I Am A Christian’ posts. I was going to take the tack on the universe is filled with wonder and quote all sorts of stats, then tie those up with philosophical lite musings on existence, statements on tolerance and wrap it all up with a conclusion that this how I see it. There were drafts, re-writes and ‘what were you thinking bout when you wrote that!’ interludes (several). As Christmas approached determination beckoned to Get This Done.

And then Events intruded, or maybe challenged, or perhaps just came along in some kind of synchronicity with a Cosmic intention to drive out any complacency or even flippancy masking as ironic humour, because dear reader….that….was…not…going…to…work! Not now. As if it ever should in this world. Nothing like Christmas run-up to bring the arguments / challenges for and against all into sharp relief. I’ll explain.

Local (ie UK) news in December:

Channel Isle- Jersey 8 retired folk killed in an explosion at their small, sedate apartment block.

West Midlands – 4 small boys died when the ice on a frozen lake gave way

Manchester – Woman knocked down and killed when struck by a police car perusing a stolen vehicle.

Christmas Eve – One killed, three injured in a shooting at a pub in Wallesey (Near Liverpool)- A national news event in the UK.

At the night. One killed when their car struck by a vehicle pursued by police- London area. Two died when their car went into the sea at a harbour, near Swansea.

Those are the ones I can recall in the news. I may have missed others. That does not count the accidents, sudden deaths and serious illness diagnosis (I can count three in my personal circle). OK, maybe it is possible to be compassionate and fatalistic and philosophical in one’s own comfy bubble. But four young lads on ice? How does anyone justify that in the Cosmic Scheme? Dare you use The Folly That Are Humanity’s Errors excuse in that case??? And do not try and tell me that such heart-breaking events are all part of God’s Plan. I am simply not buying into such a Detached or at the other side Complacent view. Not for the sake of the children, their families, friends, neighbours, rescue service crews and so on. Or in those other cases.

I can circumnavigate the issues on Wars, Catastrophic Accidents, Damage to Humanity through Natural Events, even diseases. I can fill pages laying the blame at the door of Humanity itself for most things on the basis that this was a world gifted to us and we have the free-will and it is we who are screwing up. You call that Inflexible?. Dear reader I can, on an internally stormy day bring us all into the cycle of blame, citing politics, economics, social trends to name but a few no problem. Don’t blame God. Don’t say it proves there is no God. Don’t try and shift the blame. Don’t try and wriggle out with the ‘There Is No Free Will’ get out clause. I can chew them all up. And point the finger back at We The People.

But kids falling through ice, when playing? Folk mown down by speeding cars? Exploding residencies? How do those random, tragic, spirit breaking events fit in? My dear wife who was brought up in all sincerity with the notion of a Guardian Angel is now very scathing on the topic. As I said earlier The All Part of God’s Plan gets no room with me, and pity help anyone who tries to even suggest to me such events are judgements; if that were the case there should be a whole lot of folk spontaneously dropping down dead right now.

So, NO. NO I can’t explain, I can’t justify. Probably some might try and suggest, it’s all to do with degrees of scale. Dozens, Hundreds die and it’s just ‘news’. If it’s smaller numbers and children, it hurts. Some will analyse the various Human responses. That’s fair enough on the Human Secular Scale and folk will accept that. However if I try and quote, say Luke 12 6-7….

6 Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God?

7 But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore: ye are of more value than many sparrows.

Then am I not risking getting a very hollow laugh in response? Indeed there are many theological and honest faith-based answers there. The trouble is, how do you use them when innocent folk die? How do you convince folk that your faith is based on something? And dare you say them to the grieving, in their raw unimaginable anguish?

At this stage in such a post it would be traditional for me either to. (A) Offer up a confession that my faith has evaporated and I can no longer belief (B) Slog on with some convoluted explanation which might relate to folk of faith but no one else (C) Go Cosmic. Link Life with the Rest of the Universe and degrees of scale and lose everyone irrespective of beliefs after the fourth sentence when the readers give out in one big collective….. UH?

OK. So none of the above will have a universal, ‘popular’ appeal. Thus I have to be starkly honest about this issue of God, Faith and Tragedy.

I…Do not…Know. I have no answer for you.
I have my Faith.
You know how that works? You have your ‘Something’, be that Theistic, Atheistic, Spiritual, Political, Social, Cosmological or a mix of all. You have your ‘Family’ be that by Blood, Societal or Friendship (wide labels). You have your…‘Something’. You know there are flaws, you know some of it / them drive you crazy, test your limits and yet you are still drawn back there…. Just because.
So that’s what I have.

Without sentiment though. I’m sure I could quote a biblical quote to cover that, but right now I’m not the one to use such, on ‘paper’. You have to be careful of the Written Word, it does not always convey meaning too well. No, I’m just one person with a set of beliefs I hold to, ones which don’t make me better than someone with another set. I hold to my beliefs.
I just question some of the teachings my fellow believers bring to the debates.

And I have no theistic answers why in the proverbial Scheme of Things little boys playing on one winter’s day drowned in an icy waters.

Maybe there are none.

That’s the problem with Faith. It’s not a comfort blanket.

It’s a…

Your turn. You fill in the blank as you see it.

On The Matter of Asking (a sort of follow up to ‘A Singular Circumstance. One Summer’s Day’) September #BlogBattle-Eschaton

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24

End of Days

Storms whose furies dwarfed the worst of winters past, driving the might of seas up rivers and into the least streams. Lands turbulent, restless as fever haunted sleepers. Mountains in anger threw down rock, snow and ice or hauled up worse from the depths of the earth. Disease flourished in the resultant death. And in the terror came myriad small wars.

For those charged with remaining calm and analytical the evidence led to one plausible conclusion. This in turn begged further examination for this conclusion flew against hard won rational beliefs founded in the sciences and many a mighty machine.  Yet all pointed to lore based on creed of the heart and ephemeral faith . The urgency of the matter compacted what might have otherwise been years of debate into mere days, for the process envisaged was innovative, an appeal to Devine Agencies. Across the breadth of consensus, there was, however, no other option. As one put it.

‘It’s worth a try,’

‘Lady Betrügerin? The Ghost of?’

‘If you likes Custodian Vastberaden. I’m  not fussy. Thanks for recognising me though. A girl likes to have a bit of a reputation. Quite a bit of effort there, getting yourself noticed by us. Took a risk. I could’ve nobbled you without discourse,’

‘It’s a time when risks don’t matter,’

‘I suppose it would be fer you folk, down on the ground there,’

The brief conversation concluded as the mist cleared, and light blue passageway ended with a simple wood arched door. The woman of youthful appearance and three centuries notoriety, knocked with deference, but spoke otherwise.

‘He’s ‘ere Guv’nor,’

‘Thank you Betrügerin,’

Opening the door and with a less than sober gesture of invitation Betrügerin stood to one side allowing the Custodian to pass through.

‘Best of luck with your pitch mate,’ she said and passed back into the mist.

Although the atmosphere of the room seemed clear Vastberaden discerned more mist, of a soft coastal sort, the variance made the task of focusing on the man at the other end of the room, problematic. The only detail The Custodian was certain of, the fellow was tall and studying a map laid out on a table, which might have been bigger than first inspection. Vastberaden supposed there would be challenges to the senses when meeting someone who was arbiter of the fate of the world.

‘Custodian Vastberaden,’ the voice was quite ordinary, paradoxically Vastberaden would have been disappointed if he had been addressed in majestic echoing tones, the business to him would seem to have smacked of ostentation. ‘You did not journey here of your own volition. Sent at the behest of eminent and intelligent people, though you did volunteer,’

‘No questions,’ thought Vastberaden, ‘It would also be disappointing if he had to ask. He is supposed to have a quite comprehensive knowledge,’

Then there was the silence. Vastberaden concluded he was going to have to do the talking.

‘Correct,’ the fellow said ‘You are here to state the case for Preservation of Your Civilisations’ Status. In the light of evidence to the opposite,’

‘Of course, he can hear my thoughts. But speaking can be more coherent,’

‘After all the study and conclusions based on investigations over the past century. We discovered this link or pathway, and felt a direct approach was the correct thing to do. After all the effort in forging our civilisation, fatalism could not be countenanced,’

There was a sigh.

‘Whereas your response can be considered positive in its level of determination, you must appreciate against the weight of evidence the achievements are outweighed by the mistakes, abuses and of course hubris,’

‘We are aware of the shortcomings. We are not complacent or uncaring. I would also point out that the current amount of suffering of the innocent is comparable to several of our more profligate wars. We struggle to see The Justice, nay even The Example being set by Higher Authority if I may use such a term,’

The figure looked up from the map, Vastberaden discerned emotion, though which one he found he could not make out.

‘You appear not to have perceived the disadvantageous changes you folk are bringing unto the World,’ one hand drifted across the map ‘Here, these are plain to see. For Humanity is not the only concern. Other Life. And Other Dynamics. They have precedence,’ there was a brief neutral gesture for Vastberaden to draw closer. ‘Come closer. You may be able to discern why things are unravelling the way they have been,’

Vastberaden looked down upon a map, whose basic outlines seemed distantly familiar, although total perception was made difficult by the movements and interactions of shapes, some geometric, some reminiscent of clouds or oceans while others tested the senses to comprehend. The Custodian shook his head in bafflement, at this one hand rested lightly on his shoulder, and in a jarring interlude there was a focus, albeit blurred.

Life was a part of The World. A factor which lived under the sway of forces able to sweep lands and oceans clean of it, and yet in its own various dynamics capable of causing those forces to react in ways folk had not expected to react. Many forms found balance and accord, some did not. Humanity appeared to be one such, and thus forged an extreme example of unbalance. Vastberaden considered the panorama and the circumstances unfolding, no the correct word be ‘unravelling’.

He looked up into a face saddened.

‘You understand something of the problem. You folk with such inventiveness and ability have this talent for making things worse,’

‘Aye. This much is obvious. We made great efforts to seek out something which when it was staring us in the face,’

‘There is the irony. Consider your example. In your urge to find a practical and rational answer you did not rely on convoluted recitations, nor some of the more questionable religious practices. You worked on the evidence of activities of my,’ here Vastberaden detected a slight laugh ‘Own band’s extended efforts. Concluded there was a distinct pattern leading to some intelligence beyond your own realms. One combating malevolent people in your fields and cities. Thence was a most dangerous bold strategy of placing your people as potential false targets sought to establish contact,’

‘It cost us several brave folk,’

‘It was unfortunate. Some of my own have not yet, even ever grasped the subtleties of operations against the corrosions. Lady Betrügerin, though as ruthless as any is possessed of a certain whimsy which saved your life, physical. Know this here is an opportunity of insight. We have our own missions against Ignorance, Fear and Intolerance and despite our seeming apparel of celestial power, in the scheme of things are but talented dedicated, small folk. We cannot stop these events you have brought upon yourselves,’

In his career Vastberaden had known many disappointments, some defeats and a fair number of those designated as insurmountable challenges. To avoid shock and dismay he had prepared himself for this endeavour to be one of the latter, mixed with something of the first. Speak calmly, though. Good manners cost nothing.

‘You did, still allow me to have audience. Would you then, by definition have some advice?’

‘There is always advice. This would depend on whether the listener truly wants advice no matter how unpalatable, and not just an alleged solution?’

Vastberaden thought this reasonable. The one facet which had weighed heavily upon him was the notion of making an appeal to a celestial being. After all such folk would not necessarily have the same moral compass, thus what might seem a heartfelt appeal to you could be laughable or worse objectionable to them. And as for advice, well you could listen to as much of it as you wished, then filter through the whole flood looking for gems.

‘I would always listen to advice,’ Vastberaden said, as he often had, for many folk had taken this statement as willingness to wholeheartdly accept what they would say.

The conclave which had debated and finally acquiesced to Vastberaden’s mission walked into the most secret of chambers to discuss and speculate what had, was and might be taking place.  Such was their immersion in the whole venture none of them were truly surprised to find him already seated there. He was quick and economical to advise them he had journeyed to where intended, he had met with someone in authority and had positive news to give them. As was their experience in grave and weighty matters none of them hurried him along, even though a nearby substantial river, had driven by great rains broken its banks, rushed upon and caused the collapse of a castle.

‘There is guidance,’ he said, thoughtfully and told them of the great map and the information thereupon ‘The responsibility lays with everyone.  It is not a spiritual, but a physical matter. The resources of the world cannot be taken granted as servile, it is necessary work with the land, rivers, seas, yea even skies. New disciplines and means have to be learnt, old ones adapted. The great forces once thought to be under control are not, much study is necessary. The work will be hard and long. Everyone must understand, bend their minds and bodies to change,’

The first to speak was a graven military fellow, versed in the ways of war and state security, thus with the shortcomings and weaknesses of territories, rulers, influencers of rulers, those who would be either and of course the mentality of mobs and rumours.

‘This will be a very difficult task, like trying to turn around a great vessel in a narrow shallow when a tide has gripped it,’

‘Indeed,’ agreed Vastberaden, then speaking guardedly added ‘The folk I spoke with can offer some assistance,’

At this a woman appeared at his side, she smiled waved, a cheerful little gesture.

‘Lady Betrügerin,’ she said.

‘The Death Maiden?’ asked a man of theological scholarship and thus rather interested ‘Not legendary then Vastberaden?’

‘I can speak for meself.,’ she snapped ‘Quite real thank you. So is he,’ she pointed to someone turning from a mist to a more discernible figure robed, features hidden by a cowl, and in a thin hand holding aloft a scythe. He was silent. Vastberaden took up the discourse.

‘Those whose representatives you see here, are willing to take some time out from their allotted task purging evil dabblers in demonics, to assist as it were. In expunging those of arguably a more important threat. The ones who will not listen either through greed, ignorance or stubborn intransigence,’

‘Of course we can’t be everywhere at once,’ Lady Betrügerin said and the cowled figure nodded agreement ‘And we can’t go taking everyone of the world. Be a bit drastic. Things are bad enough anyhows.  Only the worst and most loudest, let the others learn. Y’know you can help there, by telling folk the ones taken was smited by Devine Judgement,’

As the cowled figure nodded so did the military man and the theologian; it seemed a reasonable approach the pair thought.

To be fair to the assembly being mortal there was a brief hub-bub, but general agreement.

‘Strange times. But necessary requirements,’ said the current chairman ‘You Custodian Vastberaden must be escorted to and speak with the emperor, in secret of course,’

Vastberaden seemed a smidge abashed and hesitant, Lady Betrügerin sniggered and nudged him.

‘G’wan,’ she enthused ‘Tell ‘em,’

‘I visited him first,’  Vastberaden confessed ‘He was annoyed. Said it would interfere with his gold mining enterprises. He was my first case. He’s gone from this mortal realm,’

Vastberaden rose, out of the chair and into the air with Lady Betrügerin and the cowled figure.

‘Initially I did display great doubt, myself. Then Lady Betrügerin, educated me, as it were. It didn’t hurt at all. Think on it, gentlemen,’ he said.

And left.

A Singular Circumstance. One Summer’s Day (August#BlogBattle- Peculiar)

 

https://bbprompt.com/2022/09/02/september-blogbattle-eschaton/

A Singular Circumstance. One Summer’s Day (August#BlogBattle- Peculiar)

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13

Ware the Maid

        Hochtrabende The Tormentor was despicable. And cared not. He committed beastly acts all in his quest for final approval of The Nameless in Ascendancy and the subsequent bounty.

          This, he calculated would be last required location, another pastoral idyl to be despoiled by heinous cruelty to an innocent. Their suffering the last pieces to be set in place.

          He sat in unholy meditation, savouring hideous memories preparing himself.

 

          Kaltblutig was cruel; to be objective Life had been cruel to him from childhood. He was thus an effective henchman. He reasoned his cruelty was quicker and more efficient than Life’s version, so it was a sort of service. Had he met the right sort of philosopher they would have had interesting conversations. Currently though he was working for a necromancer, arrogant of course, but paid well. 

          Young Anfanger, dithered at his side.

          ‘She’s a looker,’ he giggled nervously ‘Think he’ll let us,’ he would have nudged someone lesser than Kaltblutig, instinct warned him not to ‘Y’know,’

          ‘Not supposed to be anything left to…Y’know,’ came the growl. The veteran looked to the door to the chamber, doubt nagging, he could say why. Only an odd feeling he was on this side of the door.

 

          ‘I am Lady Betrügerin. Youngest child of House Krachen. My father, two brothers, my betrothed and my prospective in-laws all predisposed to violent solutions will visit upon so much woe upon you,’

          Acolyte Glucklos winced. The kidnapped girl was possessed of speech characteristics and a variability of tone which made listening to her somewhat grating, the words ‘and’ and ‘so’ at a pitch and drawl to hurt the ears. Worse, despite being ambushed while walking through a wood, roughly manhandled, then tied to a table in the presence of a hooded man she did not appear a’feared, only annoyed and defiant. Peculiar. 

          And then she giggled

          ‘Why do you wear that silly hood? Are you possessed of a peculiarly shaped nose?’

          The suddenness of the question caused him to respond directly.

          ‘There is nothing wrong with my nose,’

          ‘Says you,’ her nose twitched ‘ I bet messing about with all things which give off these funny smells is causing your nose to grow upwards. That’s it. You have a sticky up nose,’ she giggled again, this time accompanied by an intense stare ‘A piggy-wiggy nose,’ she chirped.

          Glucklos was thrown into confusion. These were not the right responses of a kidnapped maiden. Suddenly he did not know what to do. He was gripped by an urge to rush to his master, Hochtrabende.

 

          Hochtrabende heard not the usual pleading, crying or general distress you would expect from a kidnapped maiden. Only a winsome voice, a protest from his acolyte and… girlish laughter? That was peculiar. Maybe hysteria. Yes, women did get hysterical. He would have her sing a different song. He strode out.

          Finding Glucklos had not laid out the ceremonial knives, nor lit the thick blighted yellow incense. He was in debate with the victim over his nose.

          Hochtrabende roared his disapproval and ordered the acolyte to attend to the preparations.

          ‘And here’s another hood,’ trilled the girl managing to waggle one finger in an accusative gesture ‘What’s your peculiar penalty? Droopy earlobes?’  

          Hochtrabende made to loom over her, malignant eyes glaring through slits. This one had a singular capacity to be annoying. He squeezed her face.

          ‘Cease your babble,’ he snarled ‘You are here to satisfy The Nameless in Ascendancy and bring forth Their Horror upon the world,’

          ‘That was very rude,’ she chided with heavy dignity and a slight sniff ‘And I don’t believe you. You are just some silly inadequate with paid bullies and a deluded fellow,’ she twisted her neck and batted her eyes at Glucklos ‘Poor piggy-wiggy here,’

          ‘There is nothing wrong with my nose,’ repeated Glucklos.

          The irregularity of the situation threw Hochtrabende into another bout of precipitate action.

          ‘This is but a taste of suffering to come in your journey to The Nameless in Ascendancy,’ he rasped drawing a curved blade down her arm, blood seeping from the thin line.

 

          Kaltblutig had much experience of screams. Fear, Rage, Defiance, Confusion, Thrills and so forth. That one was different, as if the door did not matter. Aside from the volume and the highest pitch he’d ever heard, there was an odd quality, he would reckon a warble. A right strangeness. His troubled, thoughtful scowl stifled Young Anfanger’s expectant tittering.  

 

          Unlike Glucklos who had hands to his head, all of Hochtrabende’s resolve was channelled into not wilting under the shriek. When finished the girl scowled

          ‘Well that’s a fine how-do-you-do,’ she wriggled her bloodied arm, muscle blossoming ‘This will not go well for you when my rescuers come,’

          The smugness in her voice was harsh, mocking. Hochtrabende had never encountered such distinctive affrontery, which fuelled his rage beyond his usual cold delight.

          ‘Wretch,’ he spat, unaware his vocabulary was narrowing ‘Know you, I have others in the wood ready to ambush any attempt. You are lost,’

          She stuck her tongue out. He had no response but to assail her other arm.

 

          ‘There’s that warbling scream again,’ Kaltblutig muttered ‘Downright peculiar,’

          By now Young Anfanger, influenced by the elder man, shuffled.

 

          Lady Betrügerin examined both arms, clenching her fists.

          ‘My favourite walking out dress torn and badly stained,’ her voice censorious ‘Whereas I normally avoid the propensities of the male where retribution is involved in this case pinches and punches will be considered,’ she glowered at Acolyte Glucklos ‘As for you  Piggy-Wiggy, there will be a severe nose straightening,’

          Maybe it was the imperturbably assertive voice, perhaps the sense his master was losing authority or mayhap whole unreality of the situation which caused the young man to tear off his hood and pointing to his nose scream into the supposed victim’s face.

          ‘This is a normal nose. An average nose, curse you!’  

          Hochtrabende was about to yell the lad was not supposed to reveal himself however this was hindered by the gasp of surprised outrage of Lady Betrügerin

          ‘Cadet Lord Glucklos. Third Son of House Raffgierig. And your father, Duke Bestechlich titular patron of the Cheese Mongers and Purveyors Guild of  Handelsknoten.  The scandal. He will have to stand down and lose the substantial stipend as they find another noble mascot,’ she tutted. Gluckloss howled and intended to strike at her face but bungled the business, she jinked her neck, he missed and as his palm flew by she savagely nipped his little finger, drawing blood.

          By then Hochtrabende had composed himself. He dragged the youth back to the corner swinging him about to view a table with tomes of evil lore.

          ‘You fool. This girl is either insane or possessed of some latent manifestation. Calm yourself and we will consult the Foul Volumes,’   

 

          In his long career on unpleasant actions Kaltblutig had never known such a bunch of oddness.  Hochtrabende usually indulged in malevolent pretend aloofness. Not ranting Self-preservation told him orders forbidding witness of what went on behind the doors no longer applied. He peered through the usual space twix’d locked door and frame.

          ‘Nah,’ he groaned ‘Don’t turn your backs on her,’

 

          When master and acolyte turned back, their intended victim was sitting up, busily untying the ropes to her legs. She paused to waggle her bloodied hands.

          ‘Blood does so slicken ropes and skin, allowing hands to slip out,’ she explained with an air of domesticity.

          Hochtrabende, in horrified desperation, mind filled with impossible answers to this situation began to chant a plea to his patron, hoping fervour and faith would do in place of sacrifice. Glucklos charged in clumsy scamper waving an ornately curved blade, an inappropriate weapon for the thrust.

          And he was felled by the promised punch to the nose.

 

          Hochtrabende lowered his gaze from the usual upwards chanting pose. The girl was not in front of him.

          ‘Yoo-hoo,’

          She was above, impossibly at ease on no particularly visible perch.

          Her eyes bright, teeth sparkling in a cheerful smile and arms outstretched she swiftly descended.

 

          On seeing the girl slip loose Kaltblutig had exited, only to find outside of the previously abandoned abode bodies or soon to be bodies of the lot Hochtrabende had hired. Waiting were ten men in the very dark green of the dread LifeGuard and adding to the dread two in the night black habits of the Custodians of The Lord God’s Will. One of the LifeGuard pointed at Kaltblutig.

          ‘Ah Master Kaltblutig. Yes. We’ll keep him,’

          For a man steeped in cruelty and its consequences, the words were as good as it got. He surrendered.

 

          He was bound, set against a tree and informed he would be telling the LifeGuard every last detail about long list of his employers, locations and deeds.  Meanwhile the body of Young Anfanger was carelessly hauled out by one LifeGuard. They formed a perimeter at the entrance and the Custodians went in, sometime later they hauled out Glucklos, he was alive though, holding his bloodied nose and babbling protests about its state.

          ‘We’ll be keeping this one,’ a Custodian said to a LifeGuard ‘Regrettably all we found of that wretch Hochtrabende was a pile of ashes. Again too late. These debased amateur meddlers thinking themselves able to deal with unquantifiable forces.

            ‘So our unseen allies, they evaded us. Again,’

            ‘Aye, just those hints of screams, barely audible,’ he patted the dog at his side  

          ‘And the locals will be grateful we tracked and apprehended a group of recently arrived bandits before any harm was done. To them, anyway,’

          The two men shared a brief, cold, knowing laugh.

          Kaltblutig shuddered. 

 

          The return was ever the demanding exercise, and therefore a slow rise from the crouch was best, as always the warmth of the greeting washed over them.

          ‘How good to see you returned intact. Still in the female form,’ the voice was gentle and thoughtful ‘Your preference?’

          ‘I do confess to an ease. I feel a may have been such before my original arrival,’

          ‘Aye, there is a likelihood. To return to current matters. Indications are of a complete cleansing. Can you confirm?’

          ‘The tracking and the luring were quite easy and the clues sufficient for the authorities. The rest fell predictably into place. He was left naught but a pile of ash. The evidence was balanced as directed. Sparse enough to ensure mystery but sufficient to encourage study,’

          ‘Others will be returning from their missions. We will gather and evaluate both progress and influence. This recent trend is most distracting. The misinterpretation of an ancient account elevating some ill-fated and obscure dabbler to the level of an evil deity would be farcical, if there were not the suffering many and promotion of negligible individuals to popular notoriety. It is not be tolerated. I daresay some philosophies would be the basis of condemnation on our methods and goals, and yet when faced with the corrosion and nurturing of such evils what is to be done?’

          The returnee sighed, straightened, then made their way over to a bench from where they could look down upon the world they had just left in all its combinations. As they mused their hair darkened and the clothing took on a more basic appearance, they absently scratched their neck. When they spoke their voice was more of the crowded streets of a city.

          ‘It’s a peculiar old state of affairs an’ no mistake,’      

 

Motivations, Inspirations, Imaginations…And Characters. A Journey Care Less and Content

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Strolling

Foreword

You know how it goes. You have this idea for a topic, and you start off. Then some allied aspect else occurs to you, which begs to be added on, which in turn leads you off down an interesting lane and somehow the original topic is behind you, round a bend somewhere and you are there, scratching you’re head wondering ‘So?… How did I get here?’

The intention was to write about World Building and how the one which formed out of my work was a place I liked to revisit, just to be there. Then the theme became something else. Here was another writer wandering through This, That and The Other. For no other reason than ‘Just Because’….

The books which are part of the post are not mentioned because there is no intention to publicise them. You’ll find enough information in earlier posts. The subjects of this post are creativity, inspiration and motivations. Anyway back to that start…

The Beginning

Sometime ago I promised myself ‘Tone down on the politics. Concentrate on the writing. Be at one with your creativity,’………………..

The next day……

Back on the soapbox or picking fights on Facebook. Will I ever learn?

Learn what? To desensitise myself against thing which get under my skin? Remove some part of me?

Well, maybe not picking on an easy FB target and ridiculing them. Maybe ‘They had it coming. Taste of their own medicine. See how they like it,’ Are not worthy and mature reasons, perhaps those sentiments border on excuses. Weighing down someone’s ‘one liner’ with three paragraphs of International Relations Theory and History? Maybe that’s showing off a bit. Overkill much?

I tell myself my political and social comments should be addressed to Word Press where generally the standard of debate is higher.

The fact, though, the political part of me, is one reason why I write fiction as I do; the challenge being to try and tone down the preachiness. A character sounding off on some political issue in the middle of an action episode sounds ‘odd’. A lesser character taking up half a chapter on observations on an injustice just spoils the narrative and detracts from the plot.

Yet there is nothing wrong with placing your opinions or views in a narrative, the characters will let you know if they think you’ve been too wordy. Those lesser characters’ two or three lines of conversation will suit just as well.

On reflection my views were one of the driving forces and at the same time a bit of a challenge to fit in neatly. I loathe the latent misogyny trying to slither back into our cultures. Thus was more than happy with Three Strong Women characters appearing. Prejudices on the grounds of race, religion, adult consensual choices tend to be a red flag, so those who embrace any or all of these prejudices would truly hate my trilogy. Sometimes a mischievous part of me nurtured on Facebook would snigger while whispering ‘If anyone hates this part. Good…they got it coming,’.

Another motivation and this is not criticism just personal taste, I did not wish to read anymore grimdark or ‘gritty’. The real world had enough of that for me. Happy endings and good folk running rings around bad folk was my intention.

In addition is a little fantasy of the whole trilogy being on a public forum where I would wait for the inevitable feeble whinge that is it is all ‘woke’, whose users are such easy targets…. (Ah but there I go again. Looking for confrontation)

Yet as I go treading into more dangerous and delicate yet related ground; it has been an observation that there is more than one way to receive criticism or even ire for portrayals of characters outside of your own social, ethnic, political, belief system grouping. This observation, and the word is stressed comes from reading commentary from those whose group is portrayed, in a sympathetic or positive light and yet is perceived by the commentator as not being the correct portrayal. My own conclusion is in this fraught world where colonialism, in the European sense has died out and the old Cold War alignments disintegrated and social norms are altering it is for many people or peoples essential their group are portrayed accurately and in a balanced, mature context. Of course my get out clause being; ‘These books take place in a Fantasy World. Not this one,’, though human natures being what they are it is unlikely this response would be seen as satisfactory. Never mind… ‘You can’t win them all,’ . And anyway folks this is a world of my characters and they led me through allowing me to explore (or was that witness?) all manner of the possibilities.

Characters eh?

One advantage, or salutary warning is once you let your characters in on the act and they start to influence you, the pace of writing picks up until the creative or speculative processes reach a velocity which leaves all caution behind. In a very paradoxical, maybe cussed mood, the lack of sales encouraged me and them onwards. We reached the ‘What The Heck’ Stage, followed by ‘C’mon Rog’. We just have to go this way, you know parts of the back story have been building to this. Remember the sub-text kiddo,’. This of course led to other directions for taking the main narratives too.

Maybe the final result would seem to some a vainglorious mash-up of genres, sub-genres and styles. And there would be no argument from me. In my defence this is what happens when the driving forces within you set the imagination in movement and in turn you feel confident enough to let the narrative take control.

Should the whole work come to public attention and there is consequential criticism of the plot line, characters and result, let it be so.

For I had far too much fun putting the whole together to regret. (apart from those stupid persistent typos and a few instances of getting the names wrong- sometimes you can be too indie).

And now I am learning restraint and economy on a monthly Blog Battle*, which is as much fun being very instructive, while keeping my interaction of Face Book to a minimum.

*

BlogBattle

Read. Inspire. #BlogBattle

We Did Not Want To Be Here. And Yet We Are

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28

War

A continuation of…

As Legions Before Us. We Will Be Tested

This not grandstanding; nor doomsaying; nor least of all a rallying call. We are moving past all of that. We are in the place where Reality is demanding our choices. This is how it is. You are being drawn to those choices, you will be asked to judge which paths.  For there are two human emotive tectonic plates grinding together and at some stage one will flip over the other, and there will be the quake. Those are National Domestic Pressures and The War  In Ukraine. Both remorseless, unavoidable, most of the elemental forces out of your control. Your reaction though will still be yours, along with tens of millions of others, each drop, each flake with its own weight and influence. Prepare yourself. And do not look for advice or guidance here I would not presume such arrogance.

The world is still dealing with a pandemic, the, medical, social and financial costs. Nations are facing domestic political upheavals in one form or another. The two closest to my heart being The Fracturing of Consensus in the USA and Brexit in my own UK. While now we have on the European Continent a full scale conventional conflict between two nations; The War that has been on hold since the Nuclear Sword of Damocles arrived. Both nations are locked in. One for survival, the other for a complex mix of motivations, some traditional, others recent. Both have invested great amounts of blood and treasure. One has massive resources, the other is in receipt of a steady stream of support. With each passing day, each shock of more death and misery. While in our own nations the domestic world goes on; at times you could be forgiven for briefly not thinking about Ukraine. But it will not go away.

War on the doorstep, be that literal, continental or geo-political in scope. War in one of its uglier industrial scales. No fast sweep of motorised columns; a hard version of commuter traffic, while folk stand gawping, some shaking fists, and then in a few days, it’s all over. ‘How shocking. I hope our government protests,’ you would have thought. Not this time, this was one militaries prepare for; well to begin with not so much The Russians. This was the grand demonstration to a horrified public what happens when the invaded supplied with latest weapons, trained for this happening, take a stand. The attacker very rarely gives out with a collective ‘Whoops’ and pulls back. Instead they revert using whatever they have in their locker, irrespective of the structural damage. While their troops on the ground, weary, low of morale, confused and angry take out their fear on the civilians. And there are the brutal mercenaries, bringing resonances of the WWII German SS police battalions .

Even so, after a while a certain adjustment can take place, what was in your mind, grabbing all of your attention, slips into the background. Back to the Domestic. Home news pushes to the fore, again. Ukraine: you’ve done all you can, you think; price rises, job security, polemical domestic politicians, they cannot be avoided.

However this war will not go away. The scenarios in which NATO is involved begin to take credible shape. Are you prepared for those? Are you ready to support such a step? Or would you judge it is best for all if the war is let to run down and Ukraine accept it has Fought the Good Fight, but must accept some compromise with Russia? Would you then hope the cost in men, material and economic damage would cause the downfall of the present Kremlin Court, then fences can be repaired, slowly and to salve our consciences money is poured into the surviving parts of the Ukraine. Money? Where from? Our own economies are suffering. National Debt is high. Some economists must be having sleepless nights, more so those in the various Financial Branches of governments. There again as we steer around the circle, NATO being involved would bring its own heavy costs. Unavoidable, pick one.

Whatever path is taken there will be prices to be paid. Militarily, Economically, Politically, Ethically even (Remember, every Ukrainian victory or defiant stance comes with a price in Russian blood, we also are now locked into that one way or another. Remember those days when you thought killing of anyone was reprehensible, but you still do. Except the World doesn’t allow you that detachment)

To re-visit. With the coming of Covid the world changed, though we got off lucky; a different strain could have brought an unmanageable death rate. But we are learning to live with it; just have to stop playing politics and silly conspiracy role-play games . A war in Europe involving Russia vs The West. Now that is no so easy to walk through; if it stopped tomorrow, all arms laid down the resonances would continue for at least the rest of the decade. How long before Russia and Russian stops being associated with brutality?

So far I have used the ‘?’ symbol six times. Could have been more. Strategies still developing in The West and Blindness to Consequences in the Kremlin. We are on a road in a fog, approaching something more than a crossroads.

You and I. We in our places. And we wonder or we resolve. If we take the latter  will we stay the course? (Seven ‘?’s and counting). When we look back all the other stances we took, seemed to have elements of simplicity. ‘We shouldn’t have gone there’; ‘We shouldn’t have got involved’ ‘We shouldn’t be doing this/that’. ‘We should be’; ‘We should be’…. Now, in these early months of 2022, ‘We should be doing…What?’ Your choice of Statement. (Eight ‘?’s and counting).

I did not bring in other issues, such as the catastrophic drought in the Horn of Africa, or the likely famine in Northern Africa due to the disruption of grain supplies from Ukraine & Russia, or…..

On reflection I was likely wrong to use the road, crossroads analogy.

Perhaps it would be more accurate to say ‘Make your accommodations, or sketch out your own forecast so you may navigate through the storms ahead,’. Perhaps? (Nine ‘?’s and counting).

As Legions Before Us. We Will Be Tested

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Child victim of War

Foreword: Two previous attempts at this post binned; five days of rehearsing paragraphs in my head before they made it to the page, and I still don’t know if  it is even close to the original intention. The drive would not let me rest though. Bear with me. Encapsulating these aspects of The Human Condition were never destined to be easy.

Iraq, Syria, Afghanistan, then Libya, South Sudan, the Central African Republic, Northern Mozambique, Ethiopia, Cameroon, Niger (to name but seven of the approximately twenty plus conflicts in Africa), Myanmar, Malaysia, Indonesia, (blink and you might miss those two) and now a war in Ukraine which is coming into its eighth year when shorn of the curtain of a fight for independence by minorities was elevated to one which cannot be avoided. These are the sometime headline ones; not the ones packaged into small items on the brutally repressive regimes and the bloody conflicts between communities or criminal gangs.

Ukraine. If we are starkly honest with ourselves, and this is a time to be so, this one takes hold of us by the heart and mind, because those folk and their towns look so very similar to our own. And in the next sentences I walk a literary minefield. Do we notice more because of the colour of their skins. Yes? For the simple reason that familiarity brings a greater degree of emotion. Deep inside lurks the feeling with a myriad of deeper causes ‘That could be me. Us,’  You can’t stop it. No more than someone native to any of the nations above would bitterly think ‘Welcome to our world. You, of The First World,’ Human nature: You might be blessed enough to have the gift of Thinking Before Speaking; dare anyone here claim they have the gift of Perception Before Feeling? You will have to accept, I don’t believe you. No person has that sort of Objectivity. The Invasion of Ukraine, an industrial powered, visceral, savage, unavoidable, twenty-four seven media reminder what has been going on non-stop somewhere, sometime, somehow. For some folk who follow the world news, maybe the last straw. If anyone out there and has been weeping, threshing, howling, shutting down their TV or laptop save for rom-coms, sports feeds, domestic themed shows, or wildlife documentaries….I for one don’t blame you. Just come back to us some time.

And of course there are those issues on your doorstep. Pandemic, voter suppression, job security, rising prices, civil rights, domestic and civic violence, environmental concerns; those for examples. We agonise and rage over what is happening in Ukraine, but we worry about doorstep issues. We even might taste fear over one or more of them, dread them starting to link up, like a series of small forest fires merging into one vast wall of speeding immolation.

A short while back, I wrote about the importance of Hope. A plea to not to give way to despair. In all honesty an easier work to write. This is about the application of Hope. … Firstly we can all Hope, and we can all believe we will sustain the intention in a good way. Until our own Reality comes in; the inescapable truth of a War in The First World. Not just in the fierce imposition of the media, or the stream of consciousness interchanges between others. It comes creeping up on us. Sometimes swirling about us when we planned on going to sleep, or maybe dragging us out of a restless half-place, or maybe hovering there while we go about our daily chores, worse intruding upon our leisure time asking ‘Should you be….’  

You will be tested. I cannot predict how, where or when. I can tell you those myriad of emotions you are feeling are part of rehearsal. Steady yourself for a journey into a Batman’s Gotham City grotesque warping of Doctor Suess’ ‘Oh The Places You’ll Go’. You could already be finding you are wishing one man dead, perhaps joyfully celebrating resistance and shrugging at the sight of dead Russian soldiers, bitterly seeing those in your country who are ‘soft’ on Russia as not just wrong or nuisances but traitors and possibly paid by Moscow. Be prepared to be feeling emotions beyond anger, to find callousness has become part of your prism. You will be drawn in. Conflict and War are most adept at justifying; the shock being you will believe, In This Case, it was right to embrace them. If you ever thought you were angry over something outside of your own personal life, now you are stepping up (or down-depends on your viewpoint) a piece. Beware how you tread; an emotional solution the Ukraine could became your template for problems at home. You might well feel fatigue at some stage, taking comfort when the news slips down the ratings…’Can’t be so bad anymore?’ Really?

Those words disturb you? Do you feel I have stepped too far into incitement, a tabloid rabble-rouser, safe in his age and home? Are you, instead nodding your head and invoking battle cries ‘If You Want Peace Prepare For War’, ‘Democracies Don’t Start Wars. We Finish Them,’ ‘Justifiable War. It’s In The Bible’ (it’s not actually -Augustine of Hippo might have been the first to write on the subject). Or are you shaking your head and thinking ‘What is he on about? I don’t understand where he is going with this?’. Perhaps you are there gnawing on your lips and saying ‘Well. Yes. But there has to be a better way. There must be. Surely we can’t keep on killing. Can we?’. There we are then. You, me, others; drawn into in a confused internal conflict where principals, ethics we are told about and the ever raw emotions collide, maybe merging in pairs or a trio only to fly apart like some of the more exquisite subatomic particles, or remain in constant antagonism. Whichever; they will plague us with a constant restlessness, even if that be only a far off rumbling of someone else’s storm.

You might cry ‘Tested? I did not sign up for this!’ Well sorry soldier, The Human World’s dynamics has the monopoly on this particular conscription, switch on some communication,  step, outside the door. Yep. You’re drafted. Even trying to be detached is some kind of statement. Your only other option is Hermitage while trying to avoid the Media finding out about you and placing you in today’s circus side-show.   

Regrettably there are no test-papers, no Yes/No/Maybe forms to fill in or on-line courses for you to tackle to see if you have passed as an In-Tune Human. (We don’t count social media for this circumstance, there are too many opportunities for pollution by those who wouldn’t even qualify for consideration to try the test; they come from Right, Left and up underneath). Thus you justifiably ask ‘You are telling me an awful lot of grim stuff. Is that all you are dealing in this time. Some Old Testament prophet re-enactments?’ 

Well, maybe. Or look at it this way. This is a journey. The weather is unsettled, make sure you carry an umbrella, a hat, and a shower proof jacket in a back-pack. Ones woven with judgement, perception and reflection. Unsettled weather. Best carry a bottle of cool reason ease the parched feeling brought on by the sudden heatwave of anger. Take opportunities to find yourself some shelter to get out of the extremes; wait for the breaks, indulge yourself in the respite. If you can grasp a short span of calm and understanding, a wish to be charitable or helpful in some positive and constructive way, thus you are coping, you are not destroying. ‘So far so good’; ‘I could have done worse’ ;’I’ll know better next time’  Maybe not the most positive of statements or evaluations, but, in testing times perpetual excellence leads to burn out, or worse Arrogance – the doorway to…..too many bad choices.

To conclude The Testing will not end in the foreseeable future. Your continued, dogged, sanguine efforts to help the victims and stand against oppression mixed with the realisation we are all fated to stumble at times, not living up to expectations; these will be part of the way upwards and outwards. Surviving and then washing away this latest deluge of the dross of Ignorance and Aggression.

Take care of yourselves folks. You are a precious resource.