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.

Matins’ Bell

‘I’m tired now’, he said, by light of darkness,

mumbled into night his waking thoughts,

a plaintive sort of fatigued exaltation,

no defeat but crushed by earthly knocks.

A glimmer in the darkness listened keenly,

spluttered into life to ease his pain,

descended on his forehead as he struggled

pasting joys in desiccated pains.

In dreams he saw a dancer up above him,

then dancing on the parquet floor of hairless pate

and, in the gentle tapping of her footsteps,

he traversed back in time through all life’s gates.

To childhood days that merged with church’s bell ring

and infant hands so soft within his grasp,

sunshine holidays and harder times when

they’d pulled in belts and wondered if, perhaps,

the work and want, the endless, restless passage,

fraught with cares and doing all he could

were worth the love of all that gathered round him.

He sighed in sleep and smiled at all the good.

The dancer danced and then lay flat upon him,

impressed herself, as light, into his mind,

bestowed the recollected visions of his voyage

and whispered tunes he’d carried deep inside.

His breathing eased and slowed to mellow movements,

shallow sighs belied the deeper well,

exchange of life, the price became apparent,

sleep on in peace or ring aged matins bell.

Light maintained its presence in his mindset,

centred on his soul when he awoke,

he smiled at love that lay asleep beside him

and whispered thanks to angels when they spoke.