Who do I salute?

We are clueless and lost and come up with nothing to resolve the issue.
It is the fiasco in the Middle East I am talking about.

Like so many of us, I just don’t want to hear about it anymore.
I am so disillusioned with ‘Talks’ and ‘Coalitions’ and statements of more aggression and increased military action.

I am absolutely stumped that ‘an eye for an eye’ is all the ‘intelligent’ world can come up with to root out this evil that is invading our ‘free’ world.

Endless criticising without proposing a solution is as frustrating to me as any loudmouth shouting.

There are statesmen puppets that will do what their puppeteers decide. Other leaders think they gain stature by tough talk and muscle flexing and violent action. Others again only know how to follow the lead dog(s) or are driven by pain and loss and retaliate in blinding hurt.

But what if psychologists could analyse the weak spots of these offending fanatic fundamentalists and come up with proposals to swing them our way by using subtle means?
What about a ‘propaganda coalition,’ where instead of destructive bombs we drop irresistible temptations on our enemies. With every item we drop we could suggest, – in every language, shape and size, – how good our world is and how screwed up theirs is. We could encourage them to defect and welcome them with open arms, give them jobs, use their skills and will-power and create an awesome future for all of us instead.

In our hatred we think that extermination is the answer. I am sure it is a good feeling to retaliate with all the might of our insane destructive devices. But, we are not solving the issue. The problem is in the minds of those people. We need to address their mind. We have to entice them, weaken their belief and wean them off the breast they falsely believe leads to a blissful world.
We have to work on the psyche of our enemy. How better to do it but to bombard them with information and objects that are certain to sway them in our direction. You cannot tell me that a soldier of the evil forces does not sit down sometimes dreaming of another life: a life of security, enough food, family, fun, peace and happiness. But, we drop bombs and shoot and act like the madmen they are just with a different uniform.

The combined knowledge of humanity: from China to Russia, India, Europe and America can surely come up with a way to defeat this enemy. With so many experts and lateral thinkers a psychological solution, a ‘propaganda assault,’ – bombs filled with sweets and chocolate and delectables and perhaps some wine too, books and notes and electronic devices capturing the imagination of our adversaries, – would surely win us this war?
Those embittered ones left behind will have a broken back and no more power to affect anything.
Why don’t we influence the minds of our foes so they can’t sleep anymore and they are left with one desire: to cross over into our camp and enjoy our lifestyle and our freedom.

Those who get this right are the ones I salute and respect. The rest of the fighting force, – no matter how skilled and versatile these modern gladiators are, targeting lives with their deadly machinery, – they don’t impress me one iota.

Was I, am I, shall I be? What?

“The more we become the more we are and the closer we get.”

“I am a stone and a tree and the water and the bee
 I am the green of the grass and the night-time and stars
 I am fire and wind, nature and the sky und das Kind
 I am space and matter and nothing at all
 I am the flower and beauty, I am big and I’m small
 I am and I am not, I am the designer and I am the plot.”

Excerpts From: ‘Beyond Cloudia’ by Raiden Germain

African summer morning


It is truly summer now on the southern tip of Africa.
Daytime temperatures have broken the 38C (100F) numerous times already.
Yesterday was another one of those hot days.

Suddenly, as if I have missed a month or two, the sun has nearly reached its southern most point, the tropic of Capricorn, also called the summer solstice.
At five in the morning she rises into the coolness, 20C (68F), of the waning night, greeted by the red-chested Cuckoo’s call and the laughing doves cu-cu-roo-cuuing while the southern Boubou entices her with his melodious voice. It is not a silent time and yet it is a quiet time. Wagtails, Robins, Thrushes, Bulbuls, Sparrows, Masked Weavers, Amethyst Sunbirds and Hadeda’s abound. The swallows are doing acrobatics in the sky. A faint breeze rustles the green leaves as they catch the first rays of sun. The lawn is refreshingly wet and cool to walk on barefoot and all the birds find something on the green carpet or in the bushes to eat. I sit by my fountain like I did last night when it was illuminated by solar light and I let the new day dawn on me. Each drop of water brings the sun higher into the sky.

It is a glorious time of the year.
The garden is expressing its joy in the most wonderful colours and shapes. If someone would ask me if green is one of the primary colours I would absolutely affirm it, and yet red, yellow and blue are.
Days flow into nights and into days again as summer winds its magic through our lives. The fountain of summer gives abundantly as if to say, “Drink to your hearts content, my partner the winter is having a rest.” Disbelieving I look at the garden that there once was winter where now there is not even a memory of it anymore. Such is life. Thankfully I embrace the summer and forget the winter. Thankfully I remember the good times and mostly forget the bad and difficult ones.

As I take a deep sip from my cool jug of water I feel life invigorating me and summer blessing me. If I had nothing and was given a chance to choose amongst many things I would choose summer first and then everything else. What would life be without the beauty and fruition of summer? Nature knew all too well that summer days should be the longest days of the year.

Give me sixty hours in a summer day
 and I will write you poetry for fifty-nine
 the other hour I will sing to you
 as I prepare another rhyme

My words like a mountain stream will flow
 and their story breathlessly embraces you
 summer days and summer nights will glow
 now that I've found what I know is true 

Give me ninety hours in a summer day
 and I will play for eighty-nine
 one hour lovingly I will fill my heart 
 sending you this dearest gift of mine

My eyes in awe another summer day will see
 and every moment addictively I fill my soul
 summer, without you I could never be
 you give my life, a reason and a goal

Give me a lifetime of summer days
 I would dream for all but one
 One day I would spend in gratitude
 Wishing you are never gone

See, – in front of me

I have eyes and I do see
 whatever there is in front of me
The light in the dark
 the long road ahead
 a bird on a tree
 the thoughts in my head
 fog obscuring my heart
 a flower and a bee
 I see all this in front of me
The sunrise this morning
 thunder and lightening
 rain and then hail
 a note in the mail
 a smile that was lost
 tears in their eyes
 destruction at all cost
The poor and the weary
 the hungry and scared
 those that have lost someone
 and those that are dead
 a stick in the hand
 and a bag on the shoulder
 I see all that looking ahead
The bounce of a ball
 hate in their eyes
 a future uncertain
 a child that cries
 a gun to the head
 a knife at the throat
 all I see very, very load
Misguided people, selfish agendas
 ignored values, shunned respect
 heralding their own importance and splendour
 vaccination by bullets and bombs
 sinking into the deepest debt
 creators of the generation of lost ones
 inept at seeing or reading life's map
What's in the back I can't see unless I turn
 mistakes, lectures and memories galore
 and then what would I gain in return
 all things I can't change and have no more
 when I look back I awaken the past
 ahead is my way I must move on
 to the bridge of my future not the shore of my past
The smile of a stranger
 the arms of my lover
 a happy home 
 and a jolly mood
 the beam of the son as he finds his father
 a kid with a plate full of food
 threatened by insanity of war, crime and danger
Hundreds of channels filled with confusion
 I have eyes that do see 
 and I can't live in total exclusion
 but when I look I can choose where to dwell
 and shape my own destiny
 I shall not fall under media's spell
 jealously guarding my right to be
I have eyes and I do see
 whatever there is in front of me

Light, shadow, me: the trinity

Without me (or a tree etc.) light would have no mate
 That's why I am
 That's why we are three
 Inseparable and still unique
 Sometimes I, the shadow, am, and sometimes I am not
 That is because sometimes you are and sometimes not
 When I am not, I just am behind a veil
 Sometimes I am you and you are me
 Shadow, light and me, the trinity
I, the shadow, am the soulmate of you
 I am not the opposite of light
 I can only be if you are, and me too
 It is you that sculptures me
 It is me that draws your face
 Using the crayons filled with grace
Without you I would be a lonely light
 I could not live and shine so bright
 That would be night, a mere shadow of me
 We are as one in three
 Therefore I am trinity
We are inseparable and yet apart
 You rise in the east
 And yet in the mornings I stretch west
 But in the evenings east is my quest
 When you are there then I am here
 But altogether we are the trinity
We are at our peak when we are born
 Or when we go to rest
 Antipodes you think but somewhere we do meet
 A triangular circle
 Mathematics at its best
At noon I am not, but still you are
 We are combined together
 We have met
 Now is our time to rest and be complete
 I am light, shadow, me
 I, you, we are trinity

Shining me

For as far as I can look back standing in my own light has seldom happened.
I needed to first become aware that I am a light that can actually shine.
Others regularly out-shone me.
It was as if everybody else was aware that shining ones own light was advertising oneself to the universe, – except myself.
Somehow, perhaps early circumstances affecting that aspect, I was not a shiner. I understood the principle that if I don’t shine my own light then I am under the radar so to speak. What I didn’t understand was that for anything to happen in my life I have to switch on my light and keep on shining it.
Being boldly visible like a super-star is another thing, but shining my own light, not just a candle, but a real light, is a requirement to life, – or so I would like to think now.

It is easy to stand in the rays of someone else’s light.
My husband this…, my wife that…, my company…, my friends…, they all shine a light and I can find comfort gathering myself under their umbrella of light.
Long before I ignited my own light I had found others’ light. I would ask, “Why can’t I be like them?”
Little did I know that no one can be like another. Unbelievably so each and everyone’s light is also different, – very different, even if they are your own offspring. It is an utter mystery to me how there can be so many of us and we all shine a different light. Man has become such an expert at cloning stuff and yet the universe is all about diversity. Even when it all looks the same, it isn’t.
Another thing I find a paradox is that when I shine I emit something and yet I actually attract something. I give something, and yet that very process of shining(giving off), that radiation I emit, actually attracts stuff and doesn’t affect my shine at all, it might just make it brighter. It has a principle of action and reaction built in. Shining, more than anything, seems to attract stuff which has a basic consistency of what I shone out there. If I have a dull light it is impossible to attract sunny, resonant, interesting stuff.
This observation leads me to say that:
“What I am I attract.”
Truthfully, I didn’t know that for a large part of my life, and even when I got the message I actually still didn’t get the gist of it until much later. Whatever was shining was a side product of whatever I was doing, but not a deliberate attempt. Sometimes one can shine and don’t even know it. That is cool, but when the light goes out then it becomes a problem, because when darkness takes over in your head you are exposed to such an onslaught of negativity and misfortune that ones only hope is to find that light again.

But, how do I find that light of mine so I can shine it?
I love fantasy, I even write it. I love to think about an ethereal world, the metaphysical, the spiritual, the magical. I love to dream.
When I get down to doing stuff however I become a realist, pragmatist. I need concrete stuff that works.
However intangible this might be, I have absolutely learned about the power of thought. Thought is the essence of my light. Because I can dial in any thought, and I can really go overboard here because my thoughts are private and so I can think whatever I want, I can change my light with such variability and speed, like a tuning knob on one of those old radios, that my light becomes like a discotheque kaleidoscope or a rave club shadow world. Surfing up and down the spectrum of light causes my thoughts to race inconsistently and so I never get to the point of actually emitting anything long enough to evoke a desired reaction, except getting back some garbled snippets of everything but really nothing coherent and usable.
Once I got to this realisation I knew there was only one cure. I had to sit down for half-an-hour and meditate on being light: pure, glorious, radiating, warm, embracing, shining light.
I am light. I shine. I am.