Life Changes

Many people have inspired me as I go through this journey of life. My mum and dad probably most of all. They taught me about justice and love. About forgiveness and mercy. And truth.

Since I’ve come to Worpress, I have found many here who continue to form my education and whose words and hearts inspire me still.

A few weeks ago I read two posts from two separate bloggers here. Their words touched me deeply and I wrote on it and saved it to draft.

I’ve been caught up in the political framework in my land. In discovering truths.

Lisa and Daniel formed these words in my mind. They come to you untouched from the first writing.

I’ve read today of mercy,

Divine and human.

Or is there only divine?

One taken, one returned

From the edge.

Both seeing what lies beyond.

Humility the mark of

Part of this journey,

Bowed to wonder

If yes,

If no,

When?

I’ve read today of suffering,

Sacrifices,

Lambs caught up in life.

My wonder, my gladness,

That what was gained

Was worth it.

New life.

One way.

Or another.

As I continue my journey here in Scotland and in life I will continue to apply those values instilled in me from birth and developed further here. My blog will undergo a change.

I might as well tell you now as later.

I expect to become more involved in politics. I have been shut off from active engagement for many years, despising the lies and disillusioned by the representatives. Over the year here I have read and researched here and elsewhere and found that others feel the same. Right across the globe. Over the last number of months I have discovered facts about my own country that I was unaware of.  But many of us know them now. Just not enough did. I intend to rectify that as best I can.

I’m telling you this because I also know that many people don’t come to WP to read about politics. So feel free to unfollow. I thought to close my account here so that I can focus more on what is now of vital importance to me. And to the future I leave my children. One day, I too will know death as Lisa came close to, as Daniel shared in his post. When that happens, I want to meet the maker I believe in knowing that I did what I could to reveal truth, to see justice done, to bring understanding.

May God forgive the elected and the media. All of those complicit.

I include myself in this in not doing enough early enough. I have always rather shunned social media. But not any more.

England and the rest of the UK are about to get up in arms over the promises made to persuade the fearful and less well-informed, the aged who receive their information through more traditional means. Vows made will be broken or rehashed.  As the UK heads into shambles over the ‘Scottish mess’ (not my words) I intend to help clear it up.

The information is out there if you look and others share.

Scotland is not subsidised by the UK. We subsidise ourselves and then some.

Money talked. As it does right across the globe. We were never getting independence. They couldn’t afford to let us go. How hard do you fight to retain ‘subsidy junkies’? How hard do you fight for freedom if you know you can do it? But that’s not the message being preached in the English newspapers where feelings are now being roused among people who don’t know.

Facts don’t speak louder than opinion and spin unless they are heard.

On Friday evening thugs, carrying union jacks, converged on George Square, Glasgow. There was trouble. Facebook postings were pouring in, pictures and video footage of a very different sort of nationalism than had been seen worldwide only hours earlier. Nazi salutes and cries of ‘No Surrender’ where previously saltires were raised in celebration at Glasgow’s pro-indy vote.

The message was clear from this dark underbelly. Don’t mess with the status quo. We’re British. Now, I’m not suggesting that normal No voters were instrumental in this ugliness. Many people are condemning them. Some, however, are denying it happened. Despite evidence to the contrary.

Compare their reasons for riot with the fact that on 31st January, 1919, the ‘Riot Act’ was read for the last time in George’s Square in an attempt to quell workers seeking justice.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/scotland/glasgow_and_west/7859192.stm

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_George_Square

The facts are out there. The truth is out there. History has not yet been rewritten. Neither is it being learned.

I beseech the people of the UK and elsewhere to read. Read all you can. Arm yourselves with facts. With truth. Those are the only weapons  we want to make or house. I don’t want to see violence on the streets of any of the cities around this land. But incitement is taking place in the arguments now flowing. In the disparity of headlines in newspapers between Scotland and England.

I enjoy board games. Particularly chess and scrabble. I always have. I don’t even mind losing. As long as the rules are stuck to. Politics should not be a game where the rules change and the pawns are us. I’ve let politicians and others play with my life for too long. No one is playing games any more with me and mine.  I will fight, peacefully, for justice and love. I’ll pray for forgiveness and mercy in my heart while I do so. And I will speak the truth when I see it. Just like mum and dad taught me.

My apologies to Lisa and Daniel. I have rather stolen this post. But maybe you can see why. I am inspired. I am passionate about this.

The title of this post was the title I had given for the poem when I wrote it. It fits so I’m keeping it. Inspired by those who inspire me.

Scotland’s Eve

I feel physically sick tonight.

My stomach is doing somersaults and my heart is racing.

I can’t eat.

It’s the eve of the Scottish Referendum.

Tomorrow I will go to the polls along with my fellow countrymen to cast a vote that will determine whether Scotland stays within the 307 year union of the United Kingdom or declares its wish for independence.

For me there is no doubt in my mind that a vote for independence is the right thing for Scotland.

And, perhaps, more importantly, the right thing for the rest of the world.

A rather grand claim, some may say. And yes, I quite understand the doubts that billions of people would have in imagining that a nation of just over 5,000,000 people could have any great impact on the rest of the world.

What possible benefit could the rest of humanity gain by Scotland declaring itself as a self-governing nation?

You would have to know us, to understand us, to believe what so many of us believe. Our history has written our character as the history of any nation has written theirs. What makes the heart of a country are the common experiences of its people.

Here I could hark back to the past as all peoples can do, review a chequered history and claim, with some justification, that we were robbed of self-determination.

I could. But I won’t.

Suffice to say that, ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’. And there is truth in that.

Our hearts have been tested and they ache for the plight of all disenfranchised. They ache for the poor and the hungry. For the homeless and the destitute. Those with no clothes to their back. Those who live in the shadow of weapons that could annihilate millions.

Our history is littered with occasions that have caused hearts to ache fit to breaking. We know and understand that justice begins with one hand reaching to help another. Out hearts have not broken. They are stronger.

When our hands are free we, the people, not the politicians, determine the path we follow in aiding justice and peace in our nation.

From there the ripples grow.

I have no enemies. None in the UK. None in any part of the world.

The enemy I deal with is the the lack of hope that people have around the world when those elected in our name pay lip service to the needs of people and to the good of our planet as a whole.

We are all culpable in how the world stands today.

Only voices and action will change the status quo.

The mood in Scotland is one of renewed hope. The movement has risen from the ground to the surface. The people believe in a better way. The people are capable of delivering a better way.

There are no bullets here. Only a ballot box. And the will of the Scottish people.

I pray with all my heart and soul that the majority of the Scottish electorate will vote tomorrow for independence. That, in gaining a free hand, we will reach our hands out to embrace justice and peace. And others may believe, that if a mere two million voters can declare for this cause, so can the world.

My sickness has turned, after writing this, to tears. I want a future worth having for my seven children and for all the children in the world.

We have to start somewhere.

The Ripple Club

There is a world fast awakening to political intrigue,

To the boys in the backroom, the power clubs of greed.

There’s a world beyond Scotland who know and who care

That what’s done in their name is right, just and fair.

There’s a world that I’ve read of in the pages of here,

Shared by citizens of lands and nations held dear.


I’ve read of Canadian, a mayor of shame,

Of senate and congress, American in name.

I’ve read from the pages of patriots wide,

From countries all over, heads hung where once pride.

I’ve read and imbibed all with wonder and awe

That so many are seeing what lies in the raw.


I’ve speculated reasons for going it alone,

The fears and the hopes in this land of my own.

I’ve reflected on words long held dear in my heart,

‘I was not born for one corner of this globe ,

The whole world is my native land’

And realised we, the people, need a fresh start


From those who decree how our story is told,

Inked, printed, pressed, as all stories of old,

Repeated interminably, rehashed as the new,

Emperor’s apparel hailed as if true,

Till child, though small and dismissed as naïve,

Shouts, ‘Naked! Look! Visible! See and believe!’


Far bigger this picture, from nation to world,

I see a new flag, unveiled and unfurled.

Carried by people, the grassroots with aim,

Acting with courage, no longer the lame,

Beginning at home, as all we must try,

Passed one to another, a relay or die


At what passes for policy, legislation corrupt,

It’s the voice of the masses, disgusted, fed up.

Membership of these ‘riot clubs‘, however manifest,

Cannot serve the populace, how could they know what’s best

If blinded by self-interest and lost to cause and reason?

When held to account by Everyman, let no one say, ‘it’s treason’.


It’s the ripples in the waters from the stone that’s cast therein

That make the biggest differences in a world of sink or swim.

I want to be a ripple with the pebble I’ll soon cast,

A vote that makes a difference for a future built to last,

A willingness to face what’s wrong, to look with hope not gloom,

To be the change in stagnant ponds that will let our desert bloom.

Positive Power

Now, Jack and Jill provided stuff for scores and scores of kids.

Mrs Jones cooked ingredients in pots and pans with lids.

Mrs Jones, their mother, oversaw the plan,

Used profits for their holidays, made sure they had a tan.

She quite forgot reinvestment to keep business afloat

So sold the lot for little and let others in to gloat

At all the deals they offered kids, though none as good as hers,

But, what the heck, they had some choice or they could wrap up warm in furs.

Kids grew ill from poorer deals and begged for energy,

Mrs Jones just sighed and said, ‘It’s nought to do with me.’

 

Now parents who were watching this formed a cunning plan.

‘Let’s make our own and share it out, profit everyone.’

Mains suppliers grew quite cross and threatened retribution,

We’ll pull the plug, through others, prior to your distribution.

Some parents feared the threats they made and shunned alternate ways,

Gave license to the bully boys, regret would cloud their days

As pollutants poured in atmosphere from every kind of harm,

Couldn’t see the benefits of water or wind farms.

Instead they let a mighty few, fraught with greed and power,

Reclaim the day, the night, the world, the minutes and the hours.

 

It came to pass that wars were had to protect the source supply,

Kids sent out, on pretexts, to maintain, reclaim or die.

Some there were who saw the ill of world in domination

To power supplies and oil cartels and bankers, multination.

That such a plan so simple, though requiring thought and vision,

Should wrest their power political, their purpose, point and mission

Drove the owners crazy, lost to right and reason,

‘Lose revenue, supremacy, to whims of nature’s seasons!’

Scuttled to the bunkers and scarpered for the hills,

Parents, kids and governments sighed and swallowed pill.

Tholing status quo as if blinkered by deceit,

Change a liability, back falling at their feet.

 

Unless, of course, a chance should come to harness once again

The energy from better source, Mother Nature and Just Men,

To seize the wind and fly once more, to aid and water all,

Humility in simplicity, no pride before our fall.

Reduced imprint in ownership of Gaia and all nations,

Positive power in every way, no less than heaven’s creation.

 

 

I couldn’t figure out how to write this post. No poetry came to mind at first and I don’t know enough about the intricacies of certain subjects to speak on them without getting into a fankle.

So I figured I’d go for what I’d do with my class or my kids when I’m trying to explain a point where the concept is better served by analogy. I started a little story about Jack and Jill Jones, personifications of the two power companies that once existed in the UK under national ownership until, in its wisdom, the government headed up by one Mrs T (can’t really bear to say her name) decided to sell them off for a song to private ownership. This has happened with all major utilities once owned by the people, now serving shareholders first and ultimately corporate finance whose heavy hand wields the stick capable of influencing decision making in the corridors of power, rightfully belonging to the citizens of a country.

A few months ago I was an undecided voter in the referendum due to take place one week from today. I was waiting to hear something that would convince me. I knew what it was but no one had spoken about it that I was aware of. Then I saw and heard this. That was it for me. Someone else was speaking my vision for me.

This morning I saw and heard this. I thought about it all day and couldn’t shift the belief that with investment, foresight and autonomy to do what is right, the people of Scotland have within their grasp the potential not only to decide their own future but to influence the world in a more positive way. That is what this is about. Positive power.

 

When will we see your like again?

Any educator worth their salt knows that the battle is won when students are engaged in the learning process. How to do that becomes of paramount importance if successful learning is to occur. I won’t go into the myriad methods teachers use and try out in their efforts to capture and retain the attention of minds too often full of alternatives vying for their consideration. But the list is pretty much endless. Making lessons fun is one. Kinaesthetic learning another. Meaningful lessons a must.

Whatever else may be said about the campaign for Scottish Independence, one of its chief successes has to be the level of engagement abounding within the populace as a whole. For the first time in generations, adults and youth alike are enthusiastic and vocal in the political arena where previously they have felt disengaged. Mainly due to feeling disenfranchised by the whole political process and the parties representing what has been seen to be too much of the same old, same old.

What is the point in voting? has been a question on the lips of so many for years and this has been reflected in the turnout at elections. To have reached a point in governance where it seems pointless to participate at all is a woeful reflection on how politics operates in the UK and in many other countries. To believe in democratic process one must feel that they have a stake in the result.

Meaningful participation.

That has been lacking so badly.

Across Scotland, right now, all ages are enthused by what is occurring in their lifetime. When my seven year old states early in the morning, ‘Only two weeks to go now, Mum’, I know that the talk abounding has permeated minds that would have previously not understood what a referendum was let alone could discuss what the possibilities of a yes or no mean.

It is not permissible for me to discuss the campaign in school in the interests of neutrality. But the children themselves are discussing it in the playground! Primary school children who are listening to their parents talk and feeling the vibe are opening up avenues of discussion.

Manufacturing enthusiasm is a difficult job. Ask any teacher. Meaningful enthusiasm is worth its weight in gold. And votes.

Imagine a political arena where the participants are the people themselves. Not the face of a party leader. Not the voice of one man or woman spouting agendas that feel separate from the populace. Not suits, dressed to impress, with flat voices guaranteed to turn the most intelligent student into a zombie. Not a separate entity from the reality of the commoner.

Sure, there are posturers seeking to score points in the age-old method guaranteed to inflame ire among the plain speakers and force the bored into submissive apathy.

But it’s not working! Rather than turning people off, the posturing becomes one more thing to fight against. It already was when the campaign began. Now, it’s seen as the smoke screen it has always been used for. No more mincing words in negativity and scaremongering. No more listening to the lies.

Oh yes, we hear them and pay attention to what is being said but the tissue is crumpling into pieces.

When will we see your like again?

 

Don’t Pick It!

There’s a scab formed over the healing,

Crusted, dark red with an itch.

There’s a tendency to pick at the edges

Which makes it a bit of a bitch

To recover from injuries, the wounded

Temper their healing with pain,

Returning to hurts once inflicted,

Reliving the moments again.

There’s a process that bodies afflicted

Must go through, that’s just how it goes,

Time and salve make the difference

Though time definite nobody knows.

Some fester from constant exposure,

Scab picked for the whole world to see,

Supurating, rancid, unhealing,

A neglect of the way it should be.

Treat it with unguents specific

To purpose, then leave well alone

Healing is slowed by the scratching

And picking right down to the bone.

High Noon

They’re struttin’ in the media,

A swagger to their hips,

Totin’ power like marshall law,

Twistin’ lies and lips.

They’re chewin’ gum imagin’ry,

Pretendin’ to be cool,

Wouldn’t hold a candle to

Most kids we’ve met in school.

Except, p’rhaps, like teenagers,

They’re mostly bluff and bumph,

I’ve sympathy for evolvin’ youth

But the others get my humph.

Agreements tacit – purposed point -

Parties merge for aim,

Shoot the outlaws, hang ‘em high,

Scupper cowboy game.

I’d rather be the native

Or the bountied head – no liar -

Than opportune for photo pose

Captioned, ‘Guns for Hire’.

No slickness here, no brylcremed wave,

No texture to their smooth,

Slippy, slidy, greasy-poled,

Slinkng, cannot prove

A single point, so just pretend,

Repeat prophetic rote,

Fingers crossed behind their backs,

Prepare the new scapegoat.

Run it into wilderness

To carry off their sins,

Load it high with guilt complex.

We’d better bloody win!

 

No Dress Rehearsal

Who would shun the chances that life offers,

Negate potential gain because of fears?

Who dismisses what each chalice proffers

But begs with thirst and cries for wasted years?

Why would any soul still fond of living

Draw blinds when sunbeams herald daybreak’s gift,

Huddle down in darkness, scared of shining,

Allow all fleeting moments then to drift?

A sullied sort of existential ruin

That wishes for and prays then barters grief,

Wails their woeful howls at waning moon, with

Persistent yet but absent self-belief.

‘No dress rehearsal’ – words fit to ponder.

Gratitude and action make for wonder.

The Scottish Lament

scottishmomus:

An apt and beautiful piece from Susan as we approach the vote for Scottish Independence.

Originally posted on Owls and Orchids:

#The Scottish Lament

Blood-soaked Culloden after the battle.

Proud and free they lived

Asking for nothing but a free life

In mountainous Highlands

And Lowlands valleys

Taking only their right to freedom

To breathe the sweet air of the north

Wild and free was their Spirit

Taming a land of wild extremes

In icy freshets they bathed

‘Parritch’ their staple fare

Living where no-one else dared

The English called them ‘heathen’

They also branded them ‘Jacobite’

For the want of a monarch

Bonnie Prince Charlie was he

To live a live they chose

At Culloden betrayed they were

By the pride of Laird and Prince

Their Prince’s money….. Vanished

In their hearts naught but cold and hunger

Nor weapons for their hands

Still they stood to face their foe

Only their pride held them stay

Only pride to fight the bloody affray

Keeping the hated Redcoats at bay

A hopeless cause from…

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