Serendipity, Synchronicity And All That Jazz

Bear With Me. I Do Get To The Point. I Think. Eventually.

Should I apologise now or later? Feck, let’s make it later.

OK, I know that on Friday I waxed a bit about Scotland and the beauties of its scenery and the quality of the land that makes me feel proud to call it home. Blame the whiskey and a hard week.

I feel its history and its trials and tribulations. But feelings aren’t always enough. Not always. There are thoughts and there is reason. There is right and there is wrong.

I’ve been pondering politics and independence.

Don’t switch off!

That’s not what I’m talking about here. It’s just that sometimes things come together in a magical way. And I do question, then just accept the synchronicity that exists in the universe. The hand of god touching. Poking finger into pond and causing ripples.

Where the feck to begin.

I could begin today with Shirley Maya posting an almost identical post to mine insofar as it touched on the voice of womankind within the world. A huge absence I think anyone with truth in their hearts would acknowledge. Politics has been for so long the realm of men. It’s been that way for many reasons. You know them all. I can’t be arsed listing them. If you want to, send me an email. And I’ll fill that page.

I just don’t have time or inclination to do it here.

Women have been, and continue to be, under represented in the voice of the world.

And, NO, I’m not talking of the burn-your-bra-men-are-bastards-sort-of women who portray womankind in such a distorted light.

I’m talking of your mother. And mine. Of all mothers. Of your wife. Your love. Your sister. Your daughter. Why are they not listened to in the way they should be by all men who claim to love them?

Why are they petted and cossetted as brainless princesses with doe eyes until they reach THAT age and then they are every man’s jail bait?

I will make generalisations here that I acknowledge may apply equally to men. I get that. Anyone with half a brain knows that there are good and bad men and women.

But men are still over represented in the political realm regardless of their goodness or badness. Or maybe because of it. 😉

I was thinking last night of some of the women who have featured in the political field for one reason or another and the names that sprang immediately to mind filled me with dismay. Maggie Thatcher. (God forgive me! I still have to ask that every time I think of her). Imelda Marcos. What a feckin’ eejit and betrayer of womankind. Then I thought Cleopatra! (Shit! I’ve just realised why I started thinking of Roman soldiers and then did the tortoise post! Gawd, my mind!)

Anyhoo, I’m already losing track of where I’m going with this. OK, you too.

To the chase.

Lots of stuff that I won’t go into ‘cos you’ll fall asleep or go, ‘Oh yeah?’ are coming together for me and making me believe that nothing really happens without cause. And effect.

Scotland. That’s where I started. I think.

Yeah, this guy, Magnus-MacFarlane Barrow. Scottish guy. From a place called Dalmally. I had been involved in his project ‘Mary’s Meals’ through schools. Knew I recognised the name. My mum had gone to a place called Medjugorje in Yugoslavia where she further realised the power of Jesus and His mother in her life. Yup. Knock on effect. Two of the people who had visited that place gave over their house as a retreat centre to anyone needing ‘time-out’ and rejuvenation. Calum and Mary-Anne MacFarlane Barrow. Parents of this other chappie.

Then tonight my brother posts on Facebook a message for me to listen to –Tommy Sheridan and Scottish Independence dealing with poverty and justice and then posts the one below.

.

All mothers (and fathers, I know!) must feel for the plight of these children.

My mother was involved with this family. I have been involved with this family. They’re Scottish. The cause is now a worldwide one. Can Scotland make it on its own? Do mothers have a voice? Should women be listened to in the global political arena? Who will make that happen? Or let that happen?

Am I making any feckin’ sense here? No wonder I write poetry.

There are times when right just feels right. And this feels right. It’s also good reasoning.

There is one species of humankind. There are two genders. We must listen to each other.

We really must listen to the voice of mothers. Because, with the odd exception, they love selflessly. And that’s what the world needs.

And I KNOW so do men. But the voices must be shared. How else do we achieve balance?

And now should I apologise? Nah. I don’t think so. 🙂 x

Calling A Spade A Feckin’ Big Shovel

As some of you may know Scotland will have, on 18th September this year, the opportunity to vote for Independence from the UK. I have been mulling over the pros and cons. And I have been waiting for someone to say some of the things I feel and think about many different aspects of it.

In this video I heard it.

Not my most favourite person in the world but someone who calls a spade a feckin’ big shovel and is not afraid to do so.

Someone also who has long fought the corner of the ordinary person and has been vociferous in doing so.

The bigger picture though is that:-

Many of the issues I have with politics and those who claim to represent us were answered in this speech.

Many of the issues that affect us nationally and globally were addressed in this speech.

Many of the attitudes and greed and corruption, not to mention blindness and ignorance, that pervade politics were identified in this speech.

You may not agree with everything he says. I don’t either. But, by god, I agree with a lot of it.

A wake up call for Scotland. but perhaps also a wake up call for a wider audience.

I think I may have made my mind up at last.

Time yet for greater reflection. But who else will call the ‘tools’ into question with clarity so in your face. I need a dose of this in my politics and politicians.

 

Politics Of The Tortoise

Phalanx- formed, tortoiseshell, they stride.

Enamoured by a greater cause. Roman virtue, pride.

 

Hidden by the shields, a clever measure.

Heads in the shells. No answers to deliver.

 

Sartorial senators in togas, edged by coloured code,

They voice in pillared rooms by rote; civic votes vetoed.

 

A charm offensive, if believed, oratory blest

With philosophy and philanthropy, supposed to do its best.

 

Then viper’s nest, despotic rule, heeding inbred flaws

Seek to serve the selfish first. Lost virtue, Roman cause.

 

Sweltered in the fiery flames, civilisation burning out.

Repetition, this our way. Results equal, have no doubt.

 

Where heads are buried, blinded by the bound.

Beware warrior who treads on toes. A weakness found. 

Woman’s Voice

It’s spreading out from pebble. Can you feel it?

Rippling through the waterways and seas,

Waving in the oceans. Can you hear it?

Communicated by the birds and bees.

There’s a lesson in the breeze of Mother Nature,

A stirring in the soil where life is found,

There’s a movement in the trees, in the rustling of the leaves,

A tumultuous rumbling underground.

Maternal blood is weeping for her children

And risking self to heal the open sores.

She’s crying out to corners of the universe,

Seeking now to even up the scores.

Listen to a mother when she’s bleeding

Her heart is sore but, tigress, she has teeth.

Woman’s voice. Hearken now, or perish.

United effort. Nature’s one belief.