Wellbeing – The Sunday Nail

Displacement

Sunday Nail — Sat, 15 Jul 2023 09:16:55 +0000

Refugees
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To deeply sympathise (love) requires personal experience.
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In a first world country:
What sort of agency are we, the individual, if we come from the Anglo Saxon Euro-Centric tribe with its recent (last 300 odd years) spiritual history, typified by the Aryan bird of prey?
A history of inflicting chaos and plunder, generating refugees of the others from afar – leaves a biological inheritance of exceptionalism and with it extreme callousness.
UNTIL NOW
The experience of being a refugee of sorts is upon us.
The experience I am thinking of is the exclusion or expulsion from the tribe.
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Cultural war has been bubbling away since the First World War, but at a level such that it could be dismissed by the wilfully ignorant, until now – (the satanic energies afoot in the Western aligned world have exposed themselves sufficiently to be impossible to deny, even for the psychologically collapsed) – and still remain fully human.
Chaos and plunder of human values by beasts in human form, heading towards a totalitarianism of the masses, is not hard to see, given the World’s experience of the two great attempts last century.
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The archetypal forces at play mirror somewhat those active in the great Western Christian tradition. With churches heavily weighted to upper middle class boomer adherents, the current neo-liberal political economy only tends to look after them and the upper class. The old idea of class warfare is not far from the surface, resulting in cherry picking the “causes” that are promoted and the poor and discarded are not high on the list.
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++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ * * *

Displacement
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The night time crawling in
I feel a sudden-ness as if I am one as is him …
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him who has to take refuge to be clear,
quiet even among the din elsewhere
so as to be alone
to think clearly about having to face
all of those homeless displaced.
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For I am so party to warring lords
who cause the pain
to unsettle those who are on the move
because of what at times I am so fully unaware.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ * * *

Last Days of Empires

Sunday Nail — Fri, 08 Oct 2021 06:32:41 +0000

No choice – Sit and wait
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Boom, Boom, Boom.
Pan, Pan, Pan.
Mayday, Mayday.
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What are we in the above?
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War-like or now fist fighting and bludgeoning forces to sustain heath, and or morality. Caged to believe that as an Australian way.
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Or are we at the aerodrome, hearing distress, half or part of an aeroplane in a state of needing helpful advice or to inform of landing requirements – tenders to assist a grounding aircraft?
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What level of life and living can we take, stand for, or uphold?
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Or is it too late?
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That plane, that life, now on a crash landing, dire in its attempt to survive intact, unhurt, unscathed by the whole traumatic, caged in event.
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No choice. Sit and wait.
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Mayday, someday, whenever – if it comes.
And what then?
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Desirable. – Or far too hard to remember, for the oxygen not able to believe it will help you now to live without a nightmare or two.
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No more choice to decide, as this Australian flagship is already about to die/dive.
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Fools & Fanatics

Sunday Nail — Tue, 05 Oct 2021 05:02:49 +0000

Dangerous – handle with care
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Does anyone remember the Einsatzgruppen Divisions of WW11? These “police actions” where commanded and led by many men with high level University training and qualifications in law.
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Thinking today how this could have happened, it is obvious fanaticism can sink to the very lowest depths of bestiality without being capable of voluntarily pulling back to a state of human decency. The fanatic is not overly courageous; the fanatic lacks the courage to face him/herself and repent.
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Further thinking leads to thinking about how the family lines of fanatics are forced (over many generations) to seek secular absolution for the fanatics themselves and their crimes, but also for the stain they leave on their families as a “hereditary gift”.
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It goes further than that though. The whole tribe gets stained as well, for it opens the failures of each member of the tribe to plain view. What did you do Father; Mother; Grandfather; Grandmother; Uncle; Aunty; Cousin; Friend; etc.etc.etc. to oppose such an obvious evil as that.
How could the tribe be pulled apart in one generation never to be reassembled in the same way again?
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Fools and fanatics come out of a similar metier and both are incredibly dangerous. Scoundrels can be reasoned with as their need/greed is to get what they want in tangible assets. Fools on the other-hand, don’t know what they want in a practical sense, except not to be made to look a fool and a failure and get some relief for their rancorous pain.
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All sorts of violence is possible in that pursuit.
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The option of choice: Keep on doubling down until retreat and then call it victory which it isn’t.
The antidote: Think before you leap and respect the need for self respect.

Vietnam was one thing, Afghanistan another, but the bug is a real killer deal.
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A Jab in the arm of history

Sunday Nail — Sun, 03 Oct 2021 07:24:20 +0000

History’s Deplorables – change makers or breakers
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I ride on a bus. I walk in the rain and sunshine alike. I listen to the birds in trees, where ever they are, but try now to find. I want for naught. I like the day and value the night.
But what of the deplorables in and throughout?
Who has the motive to destroy at will and let the deplorables suffer endlessly without care of a life, human and divine?
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I watch and listen. I speak when spoken to, but fear now is almost impossible because the question arises, who are you?
Who is in that space between, who love to listen to nature and all in-between?
But now, as the value of a human being’s choice, we are under some form of dictatorship but call it liberty or whatever the latest of jargon on the scene.
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I cry at night as the border divides.
I cry at night for not being able to speak without another gaining an idea that I may not be the one they want at the next party, for fear.
What am I to be doing as the days roll on by when people are too afraid to do anything, for fear is the ultimate, day upon day?
Can we not rise out of our hum drum spaces of incarceration, and liberty-wise, drive around with masks on and not speak but at least roam around to perhaps the nearest vacant beach?
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Coughing and spluttering I have not heard.
Coughing and influenza symptoms on the streets but who is among us aware?
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The level of information is about as clear as the inflammation on our lungs, but clear. So why are we being labelled each and every day more and more as if some form of refugee camp offshore?
The whole is not being considered each day.
The whole of what pervades us in this particular strain.
But here we are herded and tested and magnified in all it is that comes to us but more of the same – fear, fear and more so every day.
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What type of world? What type of day?
What type of numbers or are they cases and what sort? – No idea.
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Yes, that is it, no idea and yet we line upon line to ensure we are clear. Sure it is a possibility that we are all now being jabbed and so no more to worry for years and years. But let us be particular about what we read and hear, for I am now among the many, who now have a different type of future, – fear. (my dears)
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Life of a historical bent is to become known as the history of the jab.
What an epitaph at the end or is it more to surface way before then?
++++++++++++++++++++ * * *
How am I to wrestle when the army are near, to save myself from the slaughter if a war is to come here? How am I to ensure I am clear to not succumb to another and another vaccination year, or is it now (as) in Israel by monthly doses and still not clear?
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Jesus wept and so did I when I heard that a Christmas in Australia may be open but as yet still not clear. Why now when so many are herded and tested and jabbed now?
Why so frightened when it will be over as prior years when we did, if old, naturally die?
But now, as we play with our children and such, we have to be careful, who or not has had that jab, for neither are clear, it now does appear. Look at the stats coming in from over the globe – what then are we to face?
Deplorables may end up being the political cohorts and their specific type of race.

++++++++++++++++++++ * * *

A jab in the arm of history.
What a title but not so sweet, if we are to them be the brunt of the universe until days end whenever that be, looks as if the borders do not in them compete.

++++++++++++++++++++ * * *
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No Way but Down ???
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The Wolfpack Years

Sunday Nail — Sun, 12 Sep 2021 06:39:27 +0000

Why no Intospect
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The Wolf pack years –
Territorial waters or is it state borders
crossed or not crossed, vaxxed or not vaxxed
animal free zone or borders regularly checked.
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No fox, no wolf, no deer, no sport.
Kangaroo extinct now.
No more feral animals, only in the ring
as if a parliament shouting match or matched.
No more value, left obscene. No more right either.
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The whole scene one enormous pack of wolves
as if to reign terror on all inhabitants, fears extreme.
++++++++++++++++++++ * * *

The Wolf pack years –
Loss of life.
Loss of a permanent state.
Because went ahead and chose an easier path
and left the natives alone to starve.

Or was it because could not go an extra mile
and choose the best for all to trek –
free of injuries;
free of disregard and or disrespect,
the whole puzzle …. Why no introspect?

++++++++++++++++++++ * * *
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The Gates of Hell

Sunday Nail — Sat, 11 Sep 2021 01:01:35 +0000

Persecution at my Door
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The Gates of Hell
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I awoke one morning and decided to read a Calvinist view and my bed started to rumble and I thought, surely not the cavalry outside my own room. – Only to discover the feet too were stationed in numbers clad like a military, about to a subservient nationalist to be endlessly pursued.
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God do help here …
for loss of human rights ensues and I am to fear life in Australia is backing the death knoll as if a past reign of some lunacy crew.
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An article in this morning’s Spectator Australia by Dr Bella d’Abrera draws attention to the very long teleological heritage of the current lock-down mania. Have a read of it and see what you think.

Link

Company Unbecoming

Sunday Nail — Fri, 03 Sep 2021 01:38:28 +0000

Metaphysical Collapse
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The statisticians/pollsters tell us different things at different times, dependent to some degree on the needs of their paymasters.
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But for most purposes the centre of the bell curve of natural mortality seems to be around the 80 years mark (in the resources rich ‘first’ world). Extending beyond that mid point can be markedly assisted by modern pharmacology and human and mechanical support. Some more exceptional people even die of old age where the body actually quite naturally wears out. Much focus these days is being directed to healthy living with this extended natural healthy life as its aim. Good food, plenty of exercise, limiting addiction etc.
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People who still follow the great wisdom traditions try to follow the above regime of the physical domain but also try to LIVE right into their death.
They pay attention to the health of the mind, or in religions language, the soul.
One of the hallmarks of that type of life is responsibility but responsibility only seems to come with adulthood and adulthood is anathema to the technocratic automaton.
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An adult rethink of the virus situation is called for.
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The fantastical collapse of the Afghanistan enterprise calls everything into question about the cultural terrain we are currently traversing.
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Have a read of a recent article penned by a Swedish writer, Malcolm Kyeyune and see what you think. Whatever your conclusion, you might find it a stimulating exercise for the intellect.
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If our so-called leaders can get that so wrong, does that make one think some more about the current Covid melodrama being played out in our midst. All or nothing fanaticism. Another mortal spear in the will to power humanism?
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The sick addiction of unbridled greed at any cost being pursued by what these days is quite biliously called the Media, is in the process of helping to destroy our culture with mountains of propaganda and sensationalised fear; destroying the soul of those who crave the ‘security’ of childhood.
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And politicians who physically try to imitate Il Duce and behave like Armeegeneral Erich Mielke seem more than rather confused! Fascist or Communist? Neither one looks good for a so-called ‘Liberal’ Political Party or a so-called ‘Labour’ Party.
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For those with nostrils to smell, rancour is in the air.
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When you put police and military on the streets of that sector of society which is the only sector that has to work in the world to survive, you know that liberation from the wreckage of the neurotic intellectuals and managerial technocrats is long overdue. The challenge is – how do you do it intelligently and non-violently? Perhaps, the small business people who have been thrown under the bus and now join the ranks of the Australian ‘deplorables’ will provide some energising leadership that liberation requires!
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And if you think that it cannot be done, perhaps revisit Scandinavia and see how they are trying to do it. Or perhaps look East if that suits you better.
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But above all else, recognise the new Nuclear Holocaust on the block – Biological warfare; and the demonic purveyors of such abomination. That will certainly see the Bell Curve’s skewness go negative.
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Link to Malcolm Kyeyune’s article

In the Pink

Sunday Nail — Sun, 22 Aug 2021 03:47:14 +0000

and I am not yet three
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My little heart bled when I could not think
that I would have to be in lockdown till I was three or four
the way things are going now in this pandemic type of speech.
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In the pink, I suppose I am.
In the pink away from poor ’ole Pa and Nan.
In the pink away from my little folk at the weekend break.
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Now of course it is the same old coarse – no way free, no way safe to venture out for little ’ole me.
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What is it that I am to do?
What is it that now I am not even more than the age of one or is it two?
I have been in lockdown since … was it in the womb or from then on and since?
What type of world am I in?
Is it far from Nan and Pa and family across the borders
to where I am not sure
as I have not been able to venture past my own front door?
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The horrible state I am in here with my beloved mum and dad.
Course the cat but that is no longer any form of fun
for I am only able to walk when older
if able without some form of jab or such.
Can I be able to know what it is like
to have family other than the perpetual zoom at night?
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That’s it folks – lockdown orders from above
and not even from those stories of God and too of love.

Humpty Dumpty

Sunday Nail — Mon, 04 May 2020 14:30:53 +0000

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
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Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall and all the King’s horses and all the King’s men, couldn’t put Humpty together again.
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Sitting in a clinic recently, just having had a flue vaccine injection, I overheard a man and woman talking. The gist of the conversation was to the effect that neither could wait for things to get back to normal. Well, being interested in exploring that a little, I tossed in the comment to the effect; yes, but it will be back to a new normal, not the old normal.
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Blank looks and then body language that suggested a further distancing of themselves if they could.
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And so, a quick flick of the eyebrows and then back to yesterday.
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++++++++++++++++++++Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow.
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I have thought about that since.
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What does it take to live in the now, the today?
In other words, what does it take to live, always in transition? In this time of pandemic, the acuteness of that question is emphasised.
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What does it take to let go of ‘tradition’, the old ways, and fashion a path needed for growth?
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Jesus’ example of that certainly does not seem to auger well for an easy road.
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+++1. An outstanding human being;
+++2. Acutely aware of the needs of his society;
+++3. Solitary to a degree, isolated from most save his immediate followers and even they did not +++++understand him some of the time;
+++4. A man exemplar of what it means to be in love.
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Do not expect to be liked for this; it challenged people in Jesus’ day and it is probably fair to say that today is more complicated than yesterday, but that human nature has not changed much in the transition.
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The old Humpty Dumpty has broken apart and the piggy bank has been found to be practically empty; robbed by the hoards of sharks, the so-called 1% with their entailed 20% courtiers of piranha.
Unless you live ‘off shore’ (both your money and yourself), ‘the new internationalists’, start thinking what it might be like going back to a feudal like system, redolent of yesterday. Each day that passes, the possibility of that destiny seems more likely to start to grow; well at least for the rest of us 80%.
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+++++++++++++++++++++No. No. No.
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The way forward is the Jesus way and its name is LIBERATION.
But, if one follows that way at least one thing needs to be kept in mind.
When one flouts tradition/yesterday, one needs to be exceptionally good at the new way, tomorrow’s way. You need to be excellent at what you are doing both for self justification of the changed way you are forging, and also because it makes it more difficult for the arrow and stone throwers to hit your mark as yesterday’s people will try and do.
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Needs a lot more thought and reflection but I sense that it is what the BUG is telling us to do!
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What will today’s evolving liberation look like tomorrow?
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I only wish I knew, or that a crystal ball was conveniently to hand but perhaps a much more pressing question, is what will it take to have the courage to rise to the call?
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Well, one thing it will take that I feel absolutely sure about is another Jesus characteristic; a deep belief in your own self worth.That sense of worth that is as strong as granite; that Archimedean rock to stand on that will not let go, unlike quicksand. That sense that you are here to do a job that comes of a higher calling.
Not a ‘new internationalist’ but a Cosmic Wayfarer.That sense that you have a contract to fulfil. A contract entered into before inception, part of your Cosmic trajectory through eternity.
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That is what I imagine Jesus felt and also what was sensed by the community of John’s gospel about the man Jesus, both remembered and contemplated.

Searching for the Sacred

Sunday Nail — Thu, 23 Apr 2020 15:00:04 +0000

In a time of Pandemic
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Reading into the early hours of the morning and eventually feeling tired enough to sleep, a thought about so called sacred places flicked across the screen of my mind.
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Why now in a time of viral pandemic? And why sacred places?
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Now I am used to thinking of a sacred place as a church or temple or mosque or some other holy place especially put aside and reserved for religious purposes, and I have been in many hundreds of them over these last forty years or so.
But that is not what this particular thought was saying. It asked the question; are there places other than those put aside for a deity, that take on special significance for me; those that take me out of the everyday humdrum of life and catapult me into a place of inner calm?
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The calm that then makes way for and leads to a sense of the awe-filled recognition of the stupendous beauty of the cosmos we are but a speck of consciousness in.
A night spent camped out in the desert with no pollution or cloud cover to observe the view of the night sky is one example of that sort of place for me.
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A place that also still has special power for me is where, like a thirteenth century French troubadour I first caught ‘sight’ of the beautiful maiden I was destined to marry.
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Or the place where I first caught sight of my first born child.
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Not just place but time and person can seem to be special as well.
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Sacred in terms of set apart; apart where celebration of life seems to be an essential component.
One could go on and on but then along comes the BUG that grabs one’s attention.
We are told that we have to go to a special place to in effect wait to see if the grim reaper eventually calls. And that special place is our own home of what ever form it takes.
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Well, what a surprise. An extra special place!
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Now only a person who doesn’t value life fools around with death.
I mean real death, not the pseudo death that a ‘thrill seeker’ is looking for.
The death that is imminent.
The death that panics to the core.
The death that one loses total control to and terror accompanies.
And this special place we are sent to and possibly experience this, is our home; our own set apart place where we can retreat from the everyday world after a day’s toil.
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Now that’s an idea. One’s home as sacred place.

There are people I know who have a ‘special area set aside’ in their home where they can retreat to when ‘time out’ is needed, but extremely rare the person I have come across in my three score and ten so for, who has designed and built their home with this “sacred” idea as the core principle.
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Do you remember the time back in the 1960’s when the era of architectural fashion was called brutalism; the fashion that when followed by government employed architects to design for mass public housing produced such monstrosities that communal breakdown, mental illness and premature death was a constant danger? A worse example of a de-sacralised home I cannot think of at the moment but I am sure there are many more.
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After being in lock-down for a few weeks with this unexpected forced ‘time out’, how does one’s own home stack up in the sacred stakes? A beautiful retreat, where the soul is fed with beautiful food; or more prison like, where society sends its outcasts?
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This BUG is certainly turning out to be a prolific little teacher. I wonder if they will be teachings that stick? If not, I guess further future schooling will be necessary, with stricter measures being used.
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I do hope not as I am a bit averse to too much pain.