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Blog Feed: scotslad60
2008-07-29 12:07:28
scotslad60
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123139
2008-07-14 12:56:58
Warning/ Disclaimer - The idea for this story came to me shortly after the dreadful events of that day. It is a fictional "what if" short story and is not intended to offend anyone nor raise painful emotions. If you think this could describe you, concerning the 9/11 event, please be very cautious about reading further. If not, all feedback is acceptable.
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“This is it”, Ali said to himself. He knew that when he opened that door to the roof there was definitely no going back. The act of opening the door would send a signal to the main security desk to alert the security that the door had been breached. Nobody was allowed on the roof without the security being informed first and workmen had to have a guard escort them for safety Sometimes the wind at this height could easily pluck a man to his death so, each person venturing out on to the roof had to be strapped on to a safety line which the security guard could use to “reel them in”, if they got into difficulty.
Taking a deep breath, he depressed the bar and pushed the door outwards. The sudden blast of cool air that he’d expected never came and he realized it was very still out there. Almost unnaturally so. He decided to test it and carefully stepped out onto the roof, holding on to the door frame, just in case, but there was no wind, not even a breeze. Despite the height he was now at, he could just as easily have been walking along at ground level.
Knowing that he had to move quickly now since the door alarm would have been sounded, Ali made his way over to a small metal box and dropped his bag. With a sense of urgeny he removed a small explosive device and sat it on top of the metal box then carefully placed six military smoke grenades next to it. That done, he began to work on unlocking the door on the metal box which held the pump apparatus for the buildings main air ventilation.
Thinking over what he was about to do, he smiled to himself at the confusion and panic he was about to create amongst the people in the building below him. Of course, they wouldn’t know that he was bluffing and that the colored smoke was harmless. He would make them believe it was a deadly poison he had spread and they would have to evacuate the entire building.
Nobody would get hurt, of course, but by evacuating everyone, the greedy, corrupt companies that did their dirty trade deeds would lose millions in the time it took them to realize that he’d fooled them. He would be arrested of course, he knew that and was prepared for it but he also knew that, by the time they got to the ground, the media would be there and everybody would see him and know what he had done. Today, Ali Bousaid would have his fifteen minutes of fame!
Deciding to have a cigarette whilst he waited for the imminent arrival of the security guards on the roof, he sat back and leisurely blew smoke out into the bright, clear, morning air. With time to spare, he looked around, savoring the view from this vantage point. It really was rather beautiful, he realized.
Suddenly, the building seemed to vibrate then sway, then it moved alarmingly making Ali slide away from the metal box at his back. It took him a moment to recover and he saw that the smoke grenades had fell to the roof all around the ventilation shaft. As he looked to his left, he was shocked to see a thick column of black, acrid smoke rising up the side of the building. It was obvious that something had gone horribly wrong as the smoke was too thick and swiftly rising to be a simple fire in one of the offices below. That amount of smoke indicated that something bigger, maybe even an entire floor, had caught alight at the same time.
“That’s impossible”, he thought to himself, “there’s nothing in the building that could have done that!”
Carefully, he made his way to the edge of the roof, intending to lie on his stomach and look over the edge to see if he could identify where the smoke was coming from. It was all he could think of to do, such was his confusion. The smoke was too great though and he couldn’t get close enough to the edge. Standing, Ali moved to the corner of the building where it was relatively clear and lay down again before crawling forward the last few yards to the edge.
The sight that greeted him was one of devastation and horror!
As he looked over the edge, he could see that windows just below and to the left of him had been shattered the blinds within the office were hanging out, moving slightly in the updraft from the smoke. Now and then, flames appeared, curving over the top edge of a window and, as they did so, he felt a hot blast on his face. There was also smells which he didn’t recognize at first but as he concentrated, he realized that, mixed in with the sickly sweet smell of burning flesh was the smell of Fuel. He couldn’t understand how that could be but there was no mistaking the very distinctive smell of aviation fuel. It made no sense.
As he peered over the edge again, he was startled to see a person five floors below suddenly leap out into the air and fall away from him. There was no scream, no sound and Ali watched in horrific fascination at the speed the body fell away from him towards the ground far below. He was too high to see an impact, and the smoke obscured his vision anyway but he could imagine it, even although he didn’t want to.
Twisting around, he lay on his back, his breath coming in short gasps, his heart racing. When he thought he heard a voice, he twisted back around again, in time to see more people escaping the fire by jumping from the windows.
None pf the people had been on fire, he realized and it slowly dawned on him that if they were jumping that meant there must be no other way out. The fire stairs must be blocked off, or on fire. If that was the case, then that meant he too might be trapped here and, worse, no one even knew he was here. If the security guards hadn’t arrived to get him off the roof then maybe they weren’t coming and…
His train of thought was abruptly cut off by the sound of an airplane close by, it’s engines racing. Turning tow3ards that sound, he caught sight of it, low over the buildings and followed its progress as it drew closer and closer. Unable to tear his horrified gaze away, Ali watched as it first impacted then tore through the tower block next to him. He was shocked to see the flames, the smoke, the glass, the papers all being blown out and falling away but what was burned into his retina was the sight of several people being thrown out into the air and, mercifully, swiftly plummeting out of his line of vision.
“Oh my god”, he said silently to himself.
Rising, he ran over to the other side of the building to look at the tower block next to him, which was now also on fire with a large black cloud of thick burning smoke blotting out the skyline. The beautiful morning he had been enjoying only a moment ago had turned into a nightmare.
Suddenly feeling very weary and weak at the knees, Ali returned to the ventilation shaft and slumped down beside it. He had wanted to cause some trouble to the people in the office blocks below him, had wanted them to lose money, but this? He had never wanted this. This was something else altogether.
The sight of the people, the fire and the smoke was all too much for him. He realized that the best thing now was to try and head back to the ground and slip away quietly in the crowd. His thirst for vengeance had gone and now all he wanted was to go home.
Standing, he closed the door on the ventilation shaft and lifted the smoke grenades into his bag. With one last glance around him, he headed back towards the staircase, noting as he went that a wind had picked up now, brought on by the firestorm raging below.
Then it happened.
With a thunderous cacophony of creaking and roaring, the next tower block began to buckle and twist inwards. Spinning round to look, Ali was horrified to see a gaping chasm appear in the roof as the whole structure began to fall in on itself. In a second, it was gone, leaving behind a rolling, thick tower of smoke, dust and debris in its place.
Rooted to the spot, Ali stood there for what seemed like an eternity, staring at the space which was occupied by tower two, only a few moments ago. He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that the whole building had collapsed just like that. It was like a living nightmare that he’d been unwillingly thrown into. Then it struck him - If it had happened to that building…..
Turning, Ali raced towards the open doorway at the stair case, throwing his bag aside. It made no difference now whether they found it or not. He was yards away from the door when the noise began again and, recognizing it now, he knew he was too late. Resigned to his fate, he watched in horrified fascination as a crack appeared across the roof, speeding straight towards him. Raising his eyes skywards, he struggled to recite a prayer as he heard a high pitched screaming close by, not realizing the sound was coming from his own throat.
Today, Ali Bousaid would not be the name on everyone’s lips after all. Instead he would simply be another unidentified male in the devastated ruins of one of the most evil acts of mans inhumanity to man!
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123136
2008-07-14 12:54:38
Warning/ Disclaimer - The idea for this story came to me shortly after the dreadful events of that day. It is a fictional "what if" short story and is not intended to offend anyone nor raise painful emotions. If you think this could describe you, concerning the 9/11 event, please be very cautious about reading further. If not, all feedback is acceptable.
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Looking at himself in the mirror, Ali Bousaid decided that he looked the part of an average workman and hoped that others would think so too. The round, wire-framed glasses and sleeked back hair had altered his appearance very well and the tool bag in his hand completed the image. Shaving his full beard and moustache had been the final touch and now he stared at the transformed face of a stranger looking back at him from the mirror. He knew that no one would recognize him now. They had hardly even noticed him when he worked there. He knew there was no turning back now…!
The guy he had been was treated as little better than a servant to the people who flitted in and out of the offices downtown, as if they had no time to breathe let alone acknowledge the presence of another human being. Most of them had the obligatory laptop briefcase in their hand and a cell phone almost permanently attached to their ear, as they did their wheeling and dealing, making and destroying lives in the time it took him to blink.
Today, that would change though. Today, they would all have to stop and think about something else. Today, he would help to remind them that there was more to life than money. Today they would all know who he was and remember him for years to come. With one last glance in the mirror, he lifted the case and left the apartment.
It was a short cab ride to the financial district downtown and Ali passed the time in small talk with the driver as he knew that to do otherwise would seem strange and he didn’t want to raise anyone’s suspicions too early. He got the driver to drop him off four blocks away and began to walk the rest of the way, giving him time to calm his nerves and enjoy what would be his last day of freedom. It was also a lovely bright, clear morning with just a hint of the heat to come as the day progressed and, as he walked, he realized the view from the roof would be phenomenal, and found himself actually looking forward to getting up there.
Pushing his way through the glass entrance doors, Ali strode confidently towards the security desk. Hoping his nervousness wasn’t showing, he nodded towards the security man and took a pen from his pocket.
“Good morning, Sir”, he said, “Electrician. Working up on sixty three”.
“Fill it out”, the security man replied, placing a sheet of paper in front of him.
Ali briefly scanned the clearance form and was pleased to see that it hadn’t changed any since he’d been employed there. He quickly filled out the required information, using his assumed name, before he handed it back to the security guard. The security man, in turn, gave it a cursory glance before handing over a ’visitor’ pass to Ali.
“Thank you Sir”, Ali said as he pinned it to his top pocket before picking op his bag and making his way over to the express elevator. He would be on the roof in no time at all.
As he rode the express elevator up, he stood at the back, keeping everyone else in front of him and idly wondered how these people would react when his plan came to fruition. Not that he cared. This wasn’t about the individuals in the building, they were incidental. This was about mighty organizations thinking that money was more important than people and Ali was going to teach them that money couldn’t buy them everything. Like loyalty, for instance.
‘By the end of this day”, he thought to himself, I will be in jail and everyone will have my name on their lips because of what I will do here‘. The thought gave him a strange sense of satisfaction and excitement.
The doors opened on the twentieth floor and the occupants spilled out, each hurrying off in their respective directions towards another day of work, completely unaware of the man who strolled casually out of the lift behind them. All, that is, except for one!
As Ali exited the elevator, a security guard standing there looked towards him, eyeing his bag suspiciously. Ali was quick to spot the potential problem but decided he couldn’t be stopped at this stage so, taking the bull by the horns, he walked straight over to the guard.
“How you doing?”, he asked lightly.
“What can I do for you, Sir?”, the guard asked.
Ali knew by his tome that the guard was suspicious of him, despite his visitors pass. Perhaps he was just one of those over-zealous types, the kind who were not quite good enough for the police or military and adopted an over inflated sense of their power as security guards. Either way, Ali knew he’d have to tread carefully with this one and give him no reason to raise his suspicions further.
“I’m doing electrics for Cantor Fitzgerald toady”, Ali said, “But you know what those guys are like. Someplace I can grab a smoke before I go up there?”
The guard considered him for a moment before replying, “I guess you could use our place. Follow me.” With that, he turned and walked off along the corridor with Ali following close behind.
The security office was little more than a basic cupboard, with space for only two occupants at a time, and even then it was crowded. It had a small table set against the wall and an extractor fan for ventilation. The guard walked in ahead of Ali and sat down. Removing his cap, he laid it on the table beside him and then fished in his pocket, producing a packet of cigarettes.
Seeing this, Ali produced his own pact and offered the guard one of his. The man hesitated briefly before replacing his own packet and taking one from Ali’s pack. Ali leant forward and lit the guard’s cigarette before applying the flame to his own.
“Thanks” the guard mumbled, not looking directly at Ali, who knew that he had won the guard over and was in the clear.
After a moment, Ali stubbed out his cigarette and said, “Well, better get on, I guess”
“Yea”, the guard replied, “No rest for the wicked, huh?”
Flashing him a smile, Ali replied, “You got it my friend”.
Leaving the small office, Ali made his way to the first and began his journey towards the roof of the building. He was surprised to see that the lift was empty but also pleased since he could afford to relax a little. It took only another five minutes before he left the lift on the 108th floor. He knew from past experience that he’ have to climb the rest of the way.
The 109th floor was the lower level of the dual restaurant/ staff canteen and the topmost floor, the 110th was the upper level with the access to the roof. After a slow climb, he finally reached the small stairway that took him to the roof itself.
It was exactly half past eight in the morning of September the 11th, 2001! ]]>
121829
2008-07-11 12:26:09
We form the circle, raise the power
on the stroke of the witching hour
we walk with the living, speak with the dead
for we are Pagan, born and bred.
Beneath the silvery Luna light
we dance the web in the dark of night
by the creed we follow the call
for we are Pagan, one and all.
We hail the old ones and their ways
our lives guided by the book of days
as we merry meet and merry part
we are Pagan, from the heart. ]]>
121827
2008-07-11 12:22:53
I awoke on Christamas morn' to see the crisp snow on the lawn
what could have roused me from my rest, when I'm never at my best
I spied a bird sat in a tree, that was what had awakened me
T'was a little robin, with feathers brown and red
so I crept outside, softly, to offer it some bread
after all it's Christmas, when giving is the norm'
and so I paused to pick it out a juicy looking worm
the little robin swooped down, snatched the worm with a gulp
but before it started on the bread, I'd sqaushed it to a pulp
now that little robin really had a breast so red
and so, without a further thought - I went back to bed!
I love sleep! 
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121823
2008-07-11 12:17:33
(I'm not really one of those nationalistic English hating folks, in case you were wondering, but the poet is allowed to 'step into the shoes' of all, in order to bring the image to life. This is one I wrote way back and (hopefully) gives an insight into what one of my ancestaral kinsmen may hav thought back in the 1700's. It may be interesting to note, for those who are unaware, that some of the Redcoats back then were, in fact, Scotsmen themselves, working for and being paid by the English.)
Around the peak of Ben Macdhui, the redcoats started coming through
heading on their murderous way, the Scots to butcher, kill and slay
"It must not be", we all agreed, "We know just what these saxons need"
resolved to die, each to a man, from hiding places then, we ran
to let these Enlish people know that, in our Glens, their blood would flow
with claymores glinting in the sun, we oft times faced the redcoats gun
though some would die, we knew it well, but we would give the English hell
to drive them from our native land, as Scotsmen true, we made our stand
but though we fought and spilled their blood, it all proved worth-less than the mud
on which we trod for freedoms sake, for we believed, (a grave mistake!)
the words of those who sold our land, for English gold within their hand
now Scotland's gone, our freedom's lost, paid for at such high a cost
while gutless men who rule us still, have not the courage nor the will
to stand and hold our Nation proud, spineless bastards in the crowd
and scotland now will ne'er be free, from the chains of English slavery. ]]>
121820
2008-07-11 12:06:38
You say "Civilised socety", I say it isn't true
for, looking round among us, I see nothing that is new
they've simply swapped their sticks and stones for WMD's
and the fools among us lust for the power held in these
stupidly believing in the "right of might"
deaf to every warning that destruction's now in sight
forgetting they are mortal, their Ego leaves them blind
as, in their quest for glory, they leave Humanity behind
there is no place they can run to, nowhere they can hide
from the influence of the dark soul, controlling them inside! ]]>
121818
2008-07-11 12:02:39
Teach me, convince me, try to let me know
or I will not accept it, just because you say its so
explain it, define it, dont demand that I obey
or I will turn my back on you and send you on your way
show me, prove it, maybe I will see
but if you try to force it, I will only disagree
bully and oppress me, but make your challenge strong
or I will be the very one to show where you've gone wrong
let your Ego rule you and, you are going to find
the quiet strength of someone who may just read your mind. ]]>
120768
2008-07-09 12:34:31
Michael Torrance looked at the rifle lying in front of him and wondered how it was going to feel to hold a weapon again after so long. Stretchiung out his hand, he allowed his fingertips to lightly brush the cold metal and felt an instant tingle at the sensation. For a fleeting moment, the smell of cordite wafted through his nostrils, more of a memory than an experience.
Turning his attention to the ammunition that lay alongside the rifle, he picked one up and inspected it. The small projectile had a pointed cap and he idly wondered what it would feel like to have such an object tearing through your flesh, smashing bone, ripping tendons and sinews to bloodied threads, before exploding through the other side in a shower of blood and bone fragments. He knew he would never find out and, realising he was allowing his mind to wander into dangerous territory, he picked up the weapon and tucked it into his shoulder in a firing position
"Like riding a bike....", he thought to himself.
Wrapping his left arm through the weapons sling to hold it tightly in place, he deftly swept the ammunition up in his other hand and loaded the first round. Fleeting memories once again flooded his mind and he had to make a conscious effort to shake the images from his mind. Now he was ready.
Making a cosncious effort to block out the distracting background noises, he began to concentrate on his breathing and watched the barrel of the rifle move slightly with each intake of breath. He knew his shot would come in between the breaths and tried to decide at which point that would be. It was important to make each shot count, he knew, knowing what was at stake if he proved unable to meet the challenge.
Realising his arms were tense, he mentally tried to relax and keep his eye lined up on the target. As he gained control of his breathing, he made the decision of where to make the shot and, as he reached that point, he held his breath and gently, carressingly squeezed the trigger. The silenced weapon spewed its deadly cargo towards the target at a rate of knots....... and a womans shrill voice cried out!
He had to make a renewed effort to block out the noise in order to remain focused on his task. It was no good to allow emotions to cloud his vision of the targets. The expected kick from the weapon had not come though and he realised that he had tensed in anticipation of it. He quickly regained his line of sight and, after a moment, realised that his shot had went slightly left of his intended impact point but he knew that a few millimeters either way made no difference.
Steadying himself, he brought the weapon to bear on the next target and again focused on controlling his breathing. Mentally forcing himself to relaxe, he chided himself for being so tense but knew that the adrenalin coursing thriough his veins had more than a little to do with it. When he felt the moment was rtight, he again squeezed the trigger............ and a child began to cry loudly.
Loading in the final round, he lined up on the last target and began the ritual of concentration and breathing again. He knew this would be his last, decisive shot so paused to shake his arm briefly before returning it to its place on the weapon. Presing his cheek into the stock of the rifle, he began the line up on the final target. Taking his time to make sure his breathing was under control, he waited until he was sure that he was in the optimum position to take the shot and everything else was ready, before slowly squeezing the trigger one last time. He could hear a police siren wailing and growing louder as it drew nearer and was glad that it hadn't distracted him by appearing sooner.
So, it was over. The job was done and there was nothing left for him to do. Slowly, reluctantly, he set the rifle down in front of him and looked at it for a long moment. The cold black metal shone dully in the light and he gazed wistfully at it, savoring the experience of firing a weapon again. Finally, with one last touch of his fingers to the metal, he tore his gaze away and turned to look at the man standing to his right.
"Well....?", he asked.
The man looked at him for a moment then, with a grin, handed him a large stuffed pink elephant. Michael took it and handed it to his wife, as they strolled away from the sideshow, the noise of the fair resonating around them........! ]]>
119720
2008-07-07 12:40:37
I come from Scotland in the north of the UK. I married an American woman whom I love dearly and we are about to have a baby boy together. We agreed it would be easier for me to move across the Atlantic than for her to leave behind all her family and friends. All we want is to be together as a normal, law-abiding, loving, married couple and raise a family together. No great aspirations but not too much to expect either, is it?
We knew I would have to go through the whole immigration procedure and that it would take a while to get through all the red tape, as is the way of all governements and their various departments. So, we began to check out all the facts and figures we'd need. As a natural UK citizen, who has never been in trouble with the law, who is a citizen of a county which is Americas ally, who has worked and paid taxes all his life and has nothing to fear from authority, I did (foollishly) think that things would go smoothly. I should have known better!
First of all we were told, by the immigration service, that my wife could put in a form for an 'alien fiancee' and that would alow me to come to the US and get married withing 90 days of arriving here. Thereafter, I could stay, as a married person and apply for a change of status. Then we were told that it could take up to a year or more for the alien fiancee petition to be approved, during which time, I would have to remain in the UK, waiting and hoping the immigration service would get in touch. In addition to that, Danielle initially planned on sending the form in under the fee waiver scheme but we were later told that such forms were automatically rejected. It seems strange to even have a fee waiver scheme though if it really means nothing. Also points out how 'money talks'. It took about five months for them to get back to us to tell us that too!
A year apart was not something either of us wanted to consider though so I travelled back and forth a few times, under the UK/USA visa waiver scheme, which was costly and tiresome, not least because I was questioned by homeland security on each arrival into the USA.
The line of questioning was subtle but it was obvious that either the homeland security 'boys' are trained to suspect everyone and make their entry to the country as inhopistable as possible, or they suspected me because I had travelled back and forth to the US which marked me as more than just a tourist. Of course, I told them exactly why I was here but I was marked for 'secondary screening' on two occasions, which is a euphemism for being suspected of something but they had no idea what. In pracice, it means that your passport and travel documents are placed in a bright red or yellow folder and you are instructed to enter a nearby office which has opaque windows. Ominous indeed but then inside the office you are asked the same questions again. Why? Well, I suppose it keeps them in a job.
On one occasion, when I informed the homeland security guy that I had married an American, he asked, "What? Is there no good looking women in Scotland?". I kid you not! Needless to say, I treated that question with the contempt it deserved - and said nothing.
I returned to the USA again and, this time, we put in all the forms that would allow us to be together and let me stay in the US with Danielle, where I wanted to be. The full 'processing fees' of $1500 were paid at that time also. Within four weeks of putting the forms in, I received acknowledgement from the Immigration service. Money talks! I had to go and give my fingerprints, palm prints, eye scan and photographs for FBI screening. That cost us more money because the office was so far away and we had to fill up with gas for the vehicle.
That done, we returned home and that very day, the next letter from the immigration was waiting for me. Now I had to get a medical screening to make sure I was 'clean' and not bringing in any nasty bugs with me. The medical screening included STDs, HIV, TB, Hepatitis, Influenza and various childhod illnesses. That cost another $450 all told as you can only go to a doctor appointed by the immigration service. There is no consideration given, apparently, to my being potentially infected by any of the nasty bugs being carried around by Americans!!
I had to go to the local hospital to give blood and get a chest X ray for this and thats when I found out that the local hospital is only set up to deal with people who have a Social Security number and are being sent by their medicaid provider. If you are going privately and paying cash, they have no idea how to deal with you. Of course, all the tests came back fine and clear, as I knew they would (having been a health care professional in the UK for years) and now I am waiting for the immigration service to get back to me again.
One anecdotal thing was that, prior to my return to the US and starting the whole immigration thing, Danielle was doing her taxes and had to figure out what to do about me. The IRS's response was that I could file from the UK. In other words: they would'nt let me into the country, nor work there, before going through the whole red tape BS but I could pay taxes!? I'll leave my response up to your imagination!!
Suffice to say that on one hand I am extremely happy because I am with my wife and we're about to have a baby. On the other hand, I am um 'less than satisfied' with the bureaucracy, although that should come as no surprise as I was never enamoured by UK bureacracy either! :)
More later........ ]]>
119688
2008-07-07 11:05:35
Another one that was sent to me.....
Some how this makes me feel better about not being 29 (or 39...) again .. but the message is worth sending on.. If Old Age really is a gift, let's hope it's a gift that keeps on giving.
Old Age, I decided, is a gift...
I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometimes despair over my body, the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt. And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror who looks like my own mother, but I don't agonize over those things for long.
I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend.
I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avante garde on my patio. I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, to be extravagant.
I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging. Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4am and sleep until noon?
I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60's & 70's, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love .. I will.
I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set. They, too, will get old.
I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And I eventually remember the important things.
Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when somebody's beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.
I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.
As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question
myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.
So, to answer the question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day, if I feel like it!
MAY FRIENDSHIP NEVER COME APART ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S STRAIGHT FROM THE HEART!
MAY YOU ALWAYS HAVE A RAINBOW OF SMILES ON YOUR FACE AND IN YOUR HEART, FOREVER AND EVER! ]]>
110967
2008-06-18 10:02:09
I believe this comes from Native Americans, it is not my words. I like it a LOT and would like to strive to live up to all of them. I don't always manage to come close though. A few of them are even pertinent to the forums on Thoughts so I thought it would be a good thing to share anyway......
Rise with the sun to pray. Pray alone. Pray often. Great Spirit will listen, if you only speak.
Be tolerant of those who are lost on their path. Ignorance, conceit, anger, jealousy and greed all stem from a lost soul. Pray that they will find guidance. Be mindful when you too are lost.
Search for yourself, by yourself. Do not allow others to make your path for you. It is your road and yours alone. Others may walk it with you but no one can walk it for you.
Treat guests in your home with much consideration. Serve them the best food, give them the best bed and treat them with respect and honor.
Do not take what is not yours, whether from a person, a community, the wilderness or from a culture. If it was not earned, it is not yours.
Respect all things that are placed on this earth, whether it be people or a plant.
Honor other people's thoughts, wishes and words. Never interrupt another or mock or rudely mimic them. Allow each person the right to personal expression.
Never speak of others in a bad way. The negative energy that you put out into the universe will multiply when it returns to you. And it will return.
All persons make mistakes. All mistakes can be forgiven.
Bad thoughts cause illness of the mind, body and Spirit. Practice optimism.
Nature is not for us, it is a part of us. All nature is part of your worldly family.
Children are the seeds of our future. Plant love in their hearts and water them with wisdom ands life's lessons. When they are grown, give them space to grow.
Avoid hurting the hearts of others. The poison of your pain will return to you.
Be truthful at all times. With others and with yourself also. Honesty is the test of ones will in this universe.
Keep yourself balanced. Your Mental self, Spiritual self, Emotional self and Physical self all need to be strong, pure and healthy. Work out the body to strengthen the mind. Grow rich in Spirit to cure emotional ills.
Make conscious decisions as to who you will be and how you will react. Be responsible for your own actions.
Respect the privacy and personal space of others. Do not touch the personal property of others, especially sacred and religious objects.
Be true to yourself, first. You cannot nurture and help others if you cannot nurture and help yourself first.
Respect and accept others religious beliefs. Do not force your beliefs on others, unless they ask you of it first.
Share your good fortune with others. ]]>
108810
2008-06-13 11:49:14
Buckfast tonic wine was originally brewed by the Benedictine monks of Buckfast Abbey in Devon and was originally intended to be a health drink, a medicated wine. One glass to be taken daily by little old ladies and countrified gents. The monks were never in it for the money though so it was sold cheaply in order to offer its benefits to the widest possible number of its target audience.
The secret recipe for the Tonic wine is attributed to the original French monks who settled at the Abbey in the 1880's. Base wines from Spain, known as mistellas, were imported and to these were added the tonic ingredients according to an old recipe.
By the 1920s though, 1400 bottles a year were being sold, 500 from the abbey itself and the rest by post. In 1927 a London wine merchant visiting the Abbey, agreed with the Abbot that the monks would make the wine but the distribution and sale of it would be carried out by his marketing company.
To make it more palatable, the Tonic was changed from a severe patent medicine to a smoother, medicated wine and having taken on the marketing of "Buckfast" the distributors adopted a specific promotion resulting in the widespread appreciation of the wine nationally and internationally.
In modern times it is still made at the Abbey along the same lines and according to the same basic, secret recipe as was used in the very early days. The main challenge of production now lies in the successful addition of inert substances to a base wine.
Those base mistellas come from France providing the ideal medium for the skill and expertise of the monks to produce a Tonic with a smooth, rounded taste.
Those early monks never reckoned on the creative genius of Glasgow youth to abuse all manner of things though. Their express aim being to get high, get a buzz - and they do, with a bottle of Buckfast, (known locally as "Buckie). From the most basic, over the counter medicinal cough bottle to Granny's 'secret bottle of cheap Sherry', they've tried it all, and more. Buckfast Tonic Wine outstrips them all though!
In the Uk, there is a legal; drinking age of course, but few people take much notice of that and. eevery other day, youths will ask an adult to buy them a bottle of "Buckie". Some will oblige them although there are those who will refuse.
For many years now Buckfast has been a popular drink in the city of Glasgow where there is now what's called the 'Buckfast Triangle', an area east of Glasgow where the wine is consumed almost daily, by the bottle.
On numerous occasions, the Scottish health minister held talks with "Buckie" distributors because there is concern that the drink is a main contributor to anti-social behaviour amongst the youth in the city. An exclusively Scottish phenomenon is the 'Buckie Commando' who is an intoxicated, aggressive, fearless consumer of the Buckfast Tonic Wine and who wants to fight the world, thinking himself, (or herself) to be invincible.
There are other names for Buckie including 'Commotion Lotion', 'Bottle of Fight the World', 'Wreck the House Juice' and 'Bottle of Fight the World'. There are also numerous cocktails that contain the wine, probably one of the weirdest is the 'White Monk' or 'Buckshake' which is milk and chilled Buckfast Wine???
When Buckfast is combined with any other drug of choice, the result can be and has been lethal with either the drinker overdosing on something, choking on their own puke, or killing someone else in a blind drink and drug fuelled rage.
There is another drink in Glasgow called "Irn Bru" (Iron Brew) which, it is jokingly said, is made from Iron Girders. This is the drink of choice for most Buckie enthusiasts the morning after the night before. Irn Bru is also made to a 'sceret' recipe, although it is only made and sold in Glasgow.
There have been numerous talks about banning Buckfast, raising its price, etc, etc but no matter what they decide to do, Glaswegians will always find a way to abuse it or use it in some way other than it was intended.
]]>
108389
2008-06-12 13:14:59
Many years ago, I was a member of CND, the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmamament, in the UK. I paid the subsciption fee and wore a badge with the peace symbol on it but that was the extent of my 'protesting'. I never sat down in a road and got arrested for obstructing traffic.
I do believe in Nuclear disarmament though, or at least removing the power to start armaggedon from those lunatics who presently have it!!
It is, however, too late, I fear. There is nowhere to put all that highly toxic Nuclear waste that would be a result of decommisioniong Nuclear weapons. Even converting it into Nucelar energy would still result in some waste products, and we've already destroyed the world to the 'nth' degree without adding more damage. Nuclear waste can be burned, buried underground, sunk at sea; We've done all that already, but then what do we do when we run out of places to hide it?
There is also the small question of who would 'police' worldwide decommisioning? Worldwide police? Wait a minute, now I sound like a politician or one of those one wrold government fools. Forget I said that! :p
The point is that, nobody trusts anyone else and thats why we have these stupid weapons in the first place. Thats why we had them when I became a CND member and thats still why we have them now. We have them because they made this huge arsenal of weapoons and now nobody knows what to do with them. A tiger by the tail indeed!
The concept of CND is a good idea, that of global nuclear disarmament, but it is no longer a viable proposition. It could have been, back when there were only a handful of these monstrosities kicking around but now that there are thousands of them with multiple warheads, all carrying enough power to destroy the world three times over, its simply not possible. The only place left is to fire them all off into space, say at one or two a month until they are all gone. Of course, then you have the problem of the aliens thinking we're attacking them........ :)
While I and all the other CND members were protesting about these weapons, they were busy building so many of them, they knew we would never get rid of them. It became public knowledge that certain 'government agencies' were closely watching groups such as CND, claiming there was a 'communist influence' motivating us. They just couldn't grasp the concept that there were (are) decent ordinary human beings who want to live in Peace!!
I trust and hope and pray that these things will never be used but if they ever are, I hope that I will survive longe enough to teach whoever pressed the button, the error of their ways........!
Peace. ]]>
108345
2008-06-12 11:30:01
No Mean City: A Story of the Glasgow Slums (by A McArthur & H. Long), is a book based on the city of Glasgow, where I was raised as a child.
The book is based on the infamous razor gangs of the late fifites and early sixties, but parts of it could be speaking about the present day city.
The two main differences are that the present day gangs have swapped their open razors for machete's and samurai swords, eve guns, and that where the gangs of yesteryear only fought amongst themselves, these days, anybody is considered 'fair game'.
Glasgow has had many 'names' over the years, No mean city, being only one of them, but it was in the late fiities that its infamous reputation began to grow in public awareness as, around this time, the razor gangs began to develop their public notoriety. Fighting in nighclubs, bars and even in the streets became a commom uccurrence and, although the gangs only fought amongst themselves (at that time)
in the minds of the general public it became a dangerous place. Tourists were advised not to visit the city and never to venture outside unescorted, if they did visit. As a result, the local tourist economy suffered a heavy blow.
To understand where this all came from though, you need to understand a bit of the history of the place. The short short history is that Glasgow was a mixture of Irish Catholics and Scottish Protestants - a volatile mixture itself under any circumstances. Initially based on religious differences, the gangs that would spring up later held their affiliations to the area they came from, rather than their religious persuasion, (assuming they had one at all)!
As the religious aspect dwindled into insignificance, so the rise in loyalty to one's gang of a specific location took over. This meant that gangs from different areas, but of the same religion, could end up fighting each other.
As the gangs became increasingly involved in crime and their power rose, the authorities finally decided it was enough and desptached a certain individual - Sir Percy Silitoe - to stop the rot. And he did, succeeding where others had failed.
Why? Because unrestrained from the present day 'human rights movement', he fought fire with fire!
He recruited men (largely from the Scottish highlands), who were rough, tough built like a brick 's-house, and who didn't care if a few lowlanders skulls got bashed. When the gangs started fighting, his policemen turned up and waded in with fists, feet and truncheons flying. Those who were left standing at the end were arresetd and carted off to prison, some of them gojung there via the hospital. Silitoe was not a thug in uniform however, he was firm but fair, exactly what was needed in a tough working class city of high unemployment and little hope.
For a while, an uneasy peac settled over the city and the gang culture became yesterdays news. Then the city suffered a cancerous plague which affects it to this very day. That plague is, of course, illegal drugs and the subhumans who live a life of luxury at the expense and misery of so many.
The "Friendly city", as it is colloquically known, will survive this onsluaght as it has survived all others before it and, although Percy Silitoe is now just a historical legend, he is one that is as needed today as he was then.
Glasgow may no longer be the 'no mean city' of old, as described in that book and, despite its notoriety as the present murder capitol of Europe (by volume), it has a rich, varied, interesting history which has all the elements of any good crime thriller.
To some it's still where they call "Home"!
http://www.dailyrecord.co.uk/news/special-reports/crimes-that-rocked-scotland/2007/10/19/razor-gangs-ruled-the-streets-but-even-in-the-violence-of-pre-war-years-one-man-stood-out-86908-19978261/
]]>
107849
2008-06-11 10:39:01
If there is a writers gene then I was born with it and, in my case, it is an overactive gene!
I have written since I was a child, when I first learned to read and write and, since then, I have written articles, poems, short stories, readers letters and greetings card inserts.
I am a published author both online and in hardcopy (in the UK, Im still trying to 'crack the American market), and I held the position of Editor for a staff newsletter for over two years. (In actual fact, "Editor" is a bit of a grandiose title as I was THE staff of the newsletter)!
It was a voluntary post but one I enjoyed doing immensely. Every aspect of the newsletter, including the writing, design, layout, printing and distribution were all my responsibility. I had to research, conduct interviews with staff, take photos for inclusion in the layout, seek in-house advertisers and then had to write it all up, using DTP, and then print off a minimum of 1000 copies every month and send them to all the different departments.
The feedback I got from the staff helped to keep me motivated nd I took pride in my work, striving to make it as polished and Professional as possible. Then I decided to change jobs, so that was the end of my freelance Editorial career. I AM a writer though and giving up that post didn't stop me. Since I first began to write, I have been honing and polishing my craft, trying to get better with it all the time. And I think I have!
Having read about blogging, I decided to take the plunge and check it out, last August. Prior to that I was strictly an off-line hard copy writer, sending off work to magazines and local newspapers and achieving some small successes in the process. I looked around a few different sites and, quite by chance, happened across Thoughts.com. I read some of the blogs and generally got a 'feel' for the site. Later that same day, I camne back, signed up - and have never looked back since.
Thoughts.com was intended to only be a blogging site for me though. A place where Icould flex my creative writing skills and get some feedback on my work, (however critical), which would help me to make improvements where necessary. I thought it would be an enjoyable resource to use as a stepping stone in my intended freelance writing career. The sort of place where I would visit occasionally to post a blog and get feedback before sending 'real work' to a publisher or editor.
Well, I did find all that but, in addition, I also found much more than I ever expected. I found a second home with a ready made family of writers, because every single person who has ever posted a blog or made a comment here IS a writer, (excluding the spammers of course!). The love of writing is so natural to me it could almost be genetic, like I said, but what came as a surprise to me was that it's the people here, (with all their differing opinions, feelings, problems, advice, anger, humor, biases, hang-ups, negativity and positivity) that make the site so addictive.
Of coyrse, I love to write blogs and offer opinions in the forums, (sometimes offering them just for arguments sake or to try and get someone to open their mind a little), but I find myself inexorably drawn to the forums to see what somebdy has said about something.
Juts like a dog waiting for the ball to be thrown, sometimes your the dog, sometimes the thrower. You know the ball is about t be thrown and the anticipation is exciting, fun and you cant wait to get going. Other times you are the thrower, ready to toss that ball, knowing that someone is going to go chasing after it, and its fun to watch them go too, just like watching that dog chase the ball..... But I digress...... 
I do love writing, reading and commenting. I wish I had more time because I do feel guilty to an extent that I don't get around to read all the blogs of people on my friends list as often anymore. I hate all the dumb arguments in the forums too, especially when there is no need for them, although I am guilty of being there in the thick of it, as much as anyone else. Now and again though, the air clears, and I think to myself, "wtf am I doing....?" 
I came to Thoughts.com originally, to write blogs, to read and comment on others' blogs and in the forums. I came to get feedback and to have fun, enjoying what I do best, even to encourage others to try their hand at this writing game too. I never ever came to prove I was right about anything and I couldnt care less if I am wrong about anything, (I probably am about lots of things anyway), but I fail to understand why being seen to be right is so important to some people, especially in this illusive, anonymous cyber-world!?
Thoughts.com is a place where we can offer and share our innermost thoughts and feelins, whatever they may be. It's not about who is right or wrong; It never was. It's about sharing, caring, discussing, encouraging, helping, listening, reading and writing - or something along those lines anyway. We all have weird and wonderful thoughts and even the most bizzare, outlandish ones are welcomed here. They do not need to be right, factual or proven; They just need to be shared.
That's my thoughts about Thoughts.com!
Someday I may just make a half decent living out of this freelance writing thing, or I may not. The money itself is not the main motivation, it's the impossibility of ever stopping writing that keeps me going. Whatever happens though, I know this much - even when I'm a famous published author (Yea, write! * rolls eyes) this place will still be my first writing home and one of the major building blocks on my dizzy climb to the top! lol :p ]]>
105500
2008-06-05 11:26:16
This is just a test blog to see if I my claim with Technorati works. Hope I've done it right....
<a href="http://technorati.com/claim/kqi6agprsr" rel="me">Technorati Profile</a> ]]>
103068
2008-05-30 11:18:02
The so called "death penalty" is a misnomer. It should be called what it is - Execution! Why tart it up to make it look all PC and acceptable?
There are many pros and cons bandied about by those for or against the death penalty and, of course, it is an emotional subject. I fail to see how those who have no real connection to it though are the ones that also feel so emotive about it. I mean that if it is not your realtive who has been murdered or even if it is not your relative who is the murderer then why get so worked up about it?
I have heard some say that they would be the executioner if needed, because they feel so strongly that the death penalty is a 'righteous' punihsment, yet I wonder if, when it came to it, they really could do it. Unless the accused is a really hard, arrogant psychotic type who shows only hatred and no remorse right to the very end, then it would be a difficult thing to do.
Even if you agree with the death peanlty and are 'hard enough' to execute someone, you need to considere how you would feel when faced with another human being who is crying, begging for life and showing their terror at what is about to happen. Of course, not all would be like that but there are some who are like that. If that wouldn't sway you at all or cause you to examine your own conscience then I believe that the person who feels nothing should be looking at themselves, at what they have become, through their hatred for the accused.
There is also the question of what it does or would do to the executioner themselves. Many of those who have been charged with the responsibility of throwing the switch or giving the lethal injection over the years, have sought counselling and some state they can 'see' the face of every sinle person they had the misfortune to execute over all that time. Do we not care about the executioner in our mad need to see another human die?
No matter how Evil a person may be, the cost of execution is very high, and not opnly in financial terms alone!
When they still had executions in the UK, the executioner was formally charged with murder and immediately pardoned by the judge, as an acknowledgement that the death peanlty was wrong, a clear sign of mans inhumanity to man. He was also given counselling and assisted to do his job and was paid the "Queens shilling" for carrying out his grisly task (although his salary was hiher than that of course).
It is a poignant sign of our lack of humanity, I feel, that we have devised ways to kill others through the use of the gas chamber, the electric chair, the lethal injection, etc. And not only devised ways to do it, but made sure that we could have an audience to witness the event. It may be that murderers have given up their humanity when they commit the act but when others become like the murderwer himself then we can only lament the passing of humanity from society!
The truth is that the death penalty is neither a deterrent nor a punishment. It is a vengeful act which we justify by saying that it's the law, even although all it does is to massage the Ego. Those who support it say that it means there will be at least one less killer out there - does that mean then we just keep executing until there is none left? And then what?
What do we do about the rare occurrence of an innocent being executed? Do we execute the executioner and all those who called for the murder of that innocent? What about cases where the police fabricate evidence in order to secure a conviction? Do we kill the police who we thought were supposed to be upholding law and order? Where does it stop?
There are far too many questions being glossed over, with no answers but it is such an important issue that it is those very answers we should be seeking before any individual is put to death by the state. To do otherwsie is to admit that we know of at least one great wrong in our society, even although we will do nothing about it!
The 'death penalty' is nothing more than an excuse, and a poor excuse at that, to remove, hide and otherwise cover up the fact that our society does have some suppurating sores, which we all know about, and which we all choose to look the other way over! ]]>
102716
2008-05-29 15:03:51
It was suggested one time that my faith and belief was based on "any way the wind blows", or words to that effect, and that statement was not meant to be offensive. This did not offend me but it did clearly open my eyes to the ignorance of those who believe, not in their faith, but in their own sense of right when it comes to religious and spiritual matters.
I truly do not get offended all that easily anymore, and get mad even less/ I have come to realise that everyone has an opinion on everything their opinions are really of no consequence to me at all. Just as mine has no real impact on them.
Ever since I stepped outside of organised religion I have also come to realise that there are many people within organised religions who hold onto their faith with a closed mind and the truth is, if your mind is closed, you cannot, will not, see nor hear. The great pity is that those who are deaf and blind do not even realise that is what they are.
The truth is that there religion was made by man, not by God. That goes for all the religions too. They are all just one piece of a huge jigsaw puzzle, but each one thinks that only they can see the 'big picture'.
They think that because it is written in their books. They are told and taught from a very early age that the words in those books come from God and, if it comes from God, how could it possibly be wrong? What a pity they don't also teach them about indoctrination, brainwashing and propaganda too, isn't it?
The truth is that if children are to receive "religious education" then they should be taught about ALL religions, not just the beliefs of their parents. They should be taught the different beliefs of the many people who believe, around the world. They should be taught in an unbiased, factual manner. They should be encouraged to investigate later in life, to question everything and to find their own belief in life. If we only teach them what we want them to believe..... well, we've already done that and look at the mess that has caused!!!
God = Energy = Spirit. Spirit is in everything, so Energy is, so God is. There is no Jesus, Allah, Shiva, Bhudda, Krishna, etc., in there. There is NO name for God, other than that which men have chosen to label him with. Even the use of 'him' in reference to God is a misnomer as the Creator is asexual. I use the term here only because that is what many understand and to make the point.
Since the creator of all is asexual, it follows that patriarchal religion is wrong. Where did men get the idea that God is a male chauvinist? That God has a downer on women and sees them as second class? I know all the bible bashers are going to start quoting the stuff about Adam and Eve here but again, I point out that those are only words in a book written by men. If any man believes himself to be better than a woman then he needs to look at his beliefs again as women and men are complementary to each other. They were never meant to be equal. That is another concept of limited mortal thinking.
God made man, man made religion. God made the universe and put everythiung in it that was needed for all the different forms of life which he created there to thrive and survive. Man came along and screwed all that up of course. On earth at least.
It was inferred, I believe, that I may be close to ranting about religion. If that be the case, then I make no apologies for it and will never cease to 'rant'. Only by continung to debate the opinions, raise controversy and heated discussion, will anything change, and change is needed. The main change required is to have an open mind and an acceptance of all peoples beliefs, without feeling the need nor buying into the belief that they should be preached at or converted to one's own beliefs.
I have no book to present to others, no "word of god" to preach, no chapel or temple to take them to where we can sit in prayer and praise of God. If anyone asks me of my beliefs, I will answer truthfully, but they must seek that out. To any who do, I am no more than a guide, a signpost, to point them on their way to discovering for themselves. My word of god is personal experience, which words alone cannot do justice. My temple is those places in nature, created by God where we can sit in prayer and praise through honoring and interacting with the life, the Spirit there.
The more I see and read and hear about some aspects of organised religion, and especially from those who are once a week atendees at their place of worship, the more I have faith in my path. To survive, organised religions will have to do much better than offering mere blind faith and simply asking people to believe. If not for the present generations, then for those to come.
Perhaps it is only after organised, man made religions have deteriorated to the "nth" degree that the proclaimed armageddon and second coming will occur. Why would any God come before that, knowing that only some of the people here will believe in him - and even some of those who profess their belief, have their doubts. Far better to wait until the many have stopped listening to the words of men and started listening, without their ears, to the word of God, eh?
We shall see.....! ]]>
99486
2008-05-21 15:04:40
All religion is a tale of magic, illusion, superstition, control, opression, faith, belief.......... I am being controversial and perhaps more than a little "tongue-in-cheek" here, but that's why I have made this a blog rather than a forum thread...... I could do this with any of the main religious groups of course, (and who knows, I may at some later date), but for now, I am basing it on Christianity and the perceptions, opinions and knowledge of people in today's modern world. Feel free to comment, or not. If you are easily offended, feel free to not read past THIS line.
Once upon a time, there was a young man who joined a group of other young men to follow a man whom they claimed was the "new messiah". Strangely, there was no women in this inner clique and even although all the men dressed much the same, went everywhere together and slept in the same room, nobody thought to even raise an eyebrow. Women could listen to the men but they were never part of the group.
It was said that this guy's mother was a virgin (!!?), although she was married (but only after she became pregnant so that the new baby would not be seen in the wrong light). They told how, one night, long ago, "an angel from heaven" came and told his mom that she would fall pregnant and that her baby would be the messiah, come to save the world!
Anyway, the kid was born right enough, and lived a comfortable life, working in his dad's carpentry business. He never had many friends that anyone knew of in the early days and as he got older, he turned to religion. Apparently, he would go to where all the ministers and priests hung out and tell them how they were wrong and what they should believe, even though he'd never been known to attend one of their services himself.
Well, the story goes that he began to do strange and weird things. It was said that he cured a guy with a disease and raised another man from the dead. As he did all this, more and more people, who were all looking for some higher meaning to life, began to follow this little group of men with the "messiah" at their head.
Trouble started when it looked to the powers that be as if he was beginning to have more people listening to him than were listening to the government of the time. They decided that he had to go and so, they hatched a plot to accuse him of treason, basically. Of course, it was a kangaroo court and the mob mentality and 'trial by media' machine kicked in so he was screwed before they'd even started.
He couldn't prove any of the things he was saying and so he was made out to be a liar, a cheat and was called all sorts of nasty things. He didn't conform or fit into the majority idea of what "society" should be, so he was ostracised and outcast to the public at large.
They fit him up, arrested him, beat him up, and finally, killed him. All because some didn't understand him, some understood but didn't want to know and others just didn't give a hoot either way about him.
It was all an incredible story of course and we only know about it today because some of those guys from the original clique wrote some stuff down and called it the word of God. They brought all the stuff they'd wrote together in the one place and made it into a book (the first self-published volume ever!?)
They said that people had to read the book, all of it, and just take it in good faith that every single word was true. Questioning it was questioning the word of god and it says right there in the book that your not allowed to do that. It says a whole lot of stuff but the basic message is, don't ask, just shut up and obey. (The worlds first handbook for the oppressed?)
Then, years went by and this book was reprinted and translated and spread across the world. Those who believed in this book came across others who had their own book and believed in that one and so religion and religious wars were born.
It's been proven though that, if you start a message and give it to, say, a hundred people, that mesage WILL have changed from its original version at person one to what the hundredth person hears. And thats exactly what happened!
And they all lived ............. ever after.
(Maybe some day, it will be 'happily ever after' - but not yet) ]]>
97270
2008-05-15 14:27:48
I am Spiritual, not religious but that doesn’t make me any better than anyone else and I don’t have a ‘holier than thou’ attitude to my life nor my beliefs. All those who choose to sit in church, praising Jesus Christ, or Allah, or whoever, none of them are any better than me or anyone else.
One of the differences between and (some of) them though, me is that I don’t get down on myself for being a ‘sinner’. I screw up and make mistakes just like anyone else. I try to learn from those mistakes so I wont do it again but if I don’t, then I know they will come back around again and, hopefully, I’ll do better next time. If I “sin” then that is something between me, my conscience and my beliefs. I’m a sinner because I would know if/ when I do something really wrong, not because someone else tells me I am one.
What my Spiritual beliefs give me is an awareness and acceptance of Spirit in all things, the connection of all living things and the sanctity of all life. It gives me an understanding that, (despite what the religious-right believe), there IS only one God and we ARE all going to the same place and that there are many concepts written into religious teachings that have come from man, not from God..
That one God, I spoke of, is not Jesus Christ, Mohammed, Allah, Shiva, Buddha, Yehovah, etc, etc. That one God is ALL of these, and more. That is where a lot of the confusion and divisions come from you see, because each religious faction believes that its way is the only way and that their God is the only God and that all other religions have got it wrong and are risking eternal damnation in a burning fiery pit if they do not conform and obey the teachings of whatever they are told to believe.
As I have mentioned before, I was raised as a Catholic but I no longer practice as Christian. I do believe that Jesus Christ walked the earth some time ago - as an advanced soul - and that the messages and parables he spoke at the time were accidentally misconstrued and misinterpreted and that some of the teachings from that time were deliberately amended and altered by those in power who already knew of the ‘threat’ which those messages posed to them.
That still applies today. It would be unacceptable to ‘those that be’ to have the multitude knowing that they are truly free, that they have free will, that they are powerful enough to create and self determine their own lives and that they do not need any ‘leader’, political or religious’ to tell them how to live their lives.
There is no book telling me what to believe, defining what is right or wrong for me, nor telling me how I should live my life. There is no prophet speaking of eternal damnation nor even of heavenly paradise. There are no ornate chapels or temples, no mass or service conducted by a strange man in a robe who may, or may not, be a hypocrite anyway.
Despite not having any of these things, I do not believe that I am a sinner, a bad person, nor that I am automatically damned for all eternity as a lost soul because I do not conform to the words in a book, (written by men), obey the words of men who tell me their words are ‘of’ God nor regularly attend a service where people sit and listen to another person telling them what the ‘good book’ says they should believe.
I need none of these trappings because, after studying and finding my own path, my own way, I have seen my truth with my eyes and heart. I have heard it with my ears and mind. I have felt it like the unseen wind on your face.
Others speak of their personal relationship with God. I have no reason to doubt them and accept their beliefs yet, when I speak of my personal relationship with Spirit, many of those same people are quick to tell me why and how I am a wrongful sinner, condemned to eternal damnation unless I repent and atone and obey the word of (their) God unquestioningly.
In the beginning was God and God mad man. Man then went on to create religion and since that time there have been wars and rivers of blood shed over arguing who is ’right and who is ’wrong’. Meanwhile, God watches over us all just waiting for us to grow up, waken up and realize that he did make us all and that he made us all to accept, complement, help, love and care for each other here.
If we don’t learn that, he will keep sending us back here until we do, and only then will he let us stay with him!! ]]>