Rhymes, Rants & Accolades from North Central BC

What’s On My Mind

What’s on my mind, Facebook asks? I am thinking about “God” “Allah” “Our Creator” “Great Spirit” and all other honorable labelling of Whomever created and continues to create, recreate, renovate, and update bits and pieces of our universe and all other universes; suns, moons and stars.

I used to believe “God” was male, and then women began speaking up, referring to The Great Spirit as a woman – as they did in ancient times. I’ve since come to believe that there is no reason to identify The Creator as being either male or female. I believe that He/She/It is unknowable ; perhaps an emmense divine form of spiritual energy?

I am an infitesminally tiny speck of soul-energy encased in a rapidly deteriorating shell. I beieve I have fullfilled some of what I was supposed to do: have children, and in turn, many of my children have had children. Some of us have picked up on an element in our lives that was in dire need of improvement, such as the abhorrent treatment of animals; and also our blaze attitude toward the most vulnerable of our fellow humans.

At the moment I am very upset that so much that is wrong in our society is based upon reluctance to accept change. Change is what life is all about. Right now there are crises happening that we cannot and should not ignore. “School shootings” have become an almost commonplace phenomena in our so-called “civilized” world.

What’s so surprizing and frightening is that those who are screaming out in agony and anger that the killing of children must be, and can be stopped, are sometimes considered to be heretic and possibly even treasonous!

I believe the Creator has given us the gift of a kind and loving spirit. It seems obvious that we are basically supposed to bear children and do the best we can to look after them. We may screw up in certain aspects of raising them but we love them. Later, as we age and our children have grown, we celebrate the beauty and collective joyousness of being around other people’s children. We want them ALL to have fun, to excell and most importantly of all, to survive. That an unstable or hate-ridden human hurts a child in any way shape or form we must make NOISES.

There is an evangelist on television at the moment and he is definitely inspiring. He believes in the power of prayer and I do agree with him on that. But the Creator has also given us intellect and the ability to make noises. When we are really disturbed about an injustice that can easily be solved, we need to speak out.

SENSE AND NONSENSE

Prompt: a curtal sonnet is shorter than a normal sonnet. It has a first stanza of six lines,followed by a second stanza of four, and then closes with a half-line.

Oh how I’d love to have a sleep-filled night,

For rested  mind;  blithe spirit; muscle strength,

A sleep of seven hours, or even more in length,

Oh how I’d love to lie in inert slumber,

No worries; aches or pains; no thoughts encumbered,

‘Til soft and gentle glow of morning light.

 

Instead I toss and turn and read while I’m awake,

Check my Facebook; email; puzzles on the go,

Bathroom jaunts occur each hour or so,

I should do some housework; make a pie or cake,

But I’m too tired.

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How often have we heard the assumption as to why normally generous, kind, intelligent men, and women too, do strange, hurtful things to themselves and others, as being “because he was drinking.”

We sympathize. Sometimes we even apologize, when the perpetrator happens to be a loved one. If the infraction is fairly minor, we laugh and tell stories about how he has yet again survived to drink another drink. We lie because we love him. We know him sober and he is normally a good guy when he (or she) is not drinking.

There is truth in those excuses. Our brains are made up of chemicals which constantly interact to create our emotions, thoughts and physical reactions. When alcohol enters the bloodstream it is a pleasurable experience for most mammals (I’ve heard of dogs and chickens becoming inebriated). That includes humans. People love to get together and “The Bottle” adds to the occasion. For short periods of time, and not too often.

For constant party-goers it takes more and more of that pleasurable ingredient to get half as high. They are hooked. Their brains and nervous system require alcohol to function in an everyday fashion. Some are able to abstain during the week. But they can hardly wait til Friday or Saturday evening when they don’t have to work the next day.

The craving for alcohol can turn a kind and generous person into a manipulative, scheming monster. Some of my favorite people are ex-alcoholics. They wear their guilt on their sleeves and are quite honest in their refections. One fellow told of how he would deliberately pick an argument with his wife so he’d have an excuse to leave home and go to the bar. Another ex-alcoholic told of a trick he and other alcoholics had to assuage their sense of self worth.

“To make ourselves feel better, we would buy a round or two for the next guy. That way, when he got drunk, we could feel better about ourselves cause he was drunker than we were.” he said.

Alcohol still causes more harm than any other drug in our society. It is also the most available.

The basic trigger that can lead to addiction is in swallowing, inhaling or injecting a chemical ingredient which produces a pleasing sensation in your brain/nervous system. It could end up in a desperate search for the ultimate “high,” requiring more and more of the chemical to produce half the effect. Long term chemical dependence encourages social interaction with others imbibing the same substance. When you finally decide you need to regain your health and return to a normal lifestyle, that can be a double whammy.

Not only will you need to overcome extremely unpleasant and sometimes painful withdrawal symptoms, you will likely lose your connectivity to your peer group. After years of dependency, your fellow addicts may be your only friends. You will have to endure and overcome many physical, mental and emotional challenges, as well as connect with a brand new social network.

It ain’t easy adjusting to normality. But as far as I’m concerned, those who’ve conquered addiction are heroes. The ones I’ve known have proved to others in the same boat that a state of sobriety is possible.

I was chatting on the phone this morning and, as we often do, the subjects of world politics and religion came up in the conversation. We wondered whether it was important that we partake in communicating with our Higher Power in the ritual of daily prayers.. My friend admitted that he no longer prayed to God in words, instead the content of his communication was more emotional. I replied that I try to remember to pray, but sometimes I forget. Back in the “day” I fervantly prayed on a regular basis.

I told my friend that my prayers often boiled down to only one of two words: “Please” and “Thank you.” The “pleases” were answered, but it took time…sometimes a long time. The “thank yous” were answered instantaneously, when I would experience a feeling of intense joy.

Lately, as I pass through the eighth decade of my life I find myself mouthing far more “thank yous” than “pleases.” I am grateful that my world is pretty darned joyful!

Mr G and the Squirrel

Mr G strolled out on the lawn

In his heart there beat a sweet song

In his tree hung a feeder

Filled with succulent seed-fer

The birds that were flying around.

Some finches were perched in the tree

He could hear their wee chirps, “tweet’l dee”

But instead of a “thank’y”

Their chirps sounded cranky

“Filler up,” they growled, “we’re hungry,”

“I do hope those finches are wrong

The feeder’s ten feet from the ground

How come it is empty?

Last night there was plenty

Could tiny beaks have siphoned it gone?”

“‘Twas not us!” cried the finches

“Our stomachs shrank inches

‘Twas a big bird instead

With no beak on its head

Ate the food that he’d managed to pinch us!”

Mr G glanced up in the tree

A squirrel smiled back pensively

“A squirrel-proof feeder

Is all that we need here

You birds will be happy, you’ll see!”

The feeder was made out of tin

It had a trick device within

If a squirrel came to dally

It’s weight would not carry

The opening would shut with a din

But the squirrel was overweight

Which caused the device to break

Mr G was not happy

He felt kind of crappy

As he tightened up the mistake

A new bag of seeds he had bought

“It’s all good,” Mr G had thought

But again, the squirrel tripped

And the bird seed was nipped

It happened more often than not!

The winter birds came with the snow

And soon it was twenty below

Mr G learned too late

Squirrels do not hibernate

Repairing the feeder was a go!

The squirrel used aerodynamics

To bypass the feeders’ mechanics

He debarked downside up

When he slithered to sup

The birds suffered panic upset’rics

One day Mr G had a dream

A roof on it’s roof was the scheme

The first made of foil

Lasted one night of toil

The squirrel tore it up to smith’reens

Mr D looked out of his window

The birds were all his friends now

On top of the rig

Was a big plastic lid

The “Free Meals for Squirrels” s’been rescinded

Easter Monday

It’s a bare-naked kind of day

A change of wardrobe is in progress

The Silver Birch contemplates

What to wear on this day

Whether it should accept

The donning of the fluffy new snow

That’s once again wafting down

In the icy cold breeze

Or to wait for an afternoon

Of warm sunshine

To create a more exciting mode of dress

Crisp green leaves sprouting from the

Tree’s tendrils

The lime green leaves

Only seen in Spring

They envelope the entire tree

Creating a chiffon umbrella to

Shade the grasses below

The tree is dreaming

And so am I…

Closed Captioning

Closed Captioning’s upon TV

For senior couples’ harmony

Hard of hearing ears decline

At different rates and different times

“Put on your ears!” I scream at him.

“I cannot think above that din!”

And he in plaintive tones erupts

“The volume’s only halfway up!”

With hearing aides, he now is listening

To words that sound as if they’re whispering

My hearing aides I have installed

To watch my favorite show of all

British shows have women cops

That tell their male subordinates off

Vera drives the countryside

Finding villains, solving crimes

This evening we will watch Netflix

A show we’ve both found time to check

Closed captioning is on the screen

To fill us in on what has been

Our hearing aides no longer needed

All we have to do is read it!

i

My hearing aides upgradethe sound

The Cribbage War

Fifteen-two

And I see you

Have a few fives

And a face card too

I’ve passed the skunk line

And you are far behind

But your twenty-eight hand

Is a kick in the can

We are neck and neck

As we peg around the deck

I am in the last hole

When I get the final “go!”

(Sorry Dear, maybe you’ll win the next game)

There’s a sweet little girl

Somewhere in the world

Whom I miss with all of my heart

She’s now twenty-seven

And I wish to Heaven

We dwelt much closer apart

Impetuous and sassy

My darling lassie

Holds Gramma’s heart in her hands

When she was three

I asked her to pee

In her cute little pot on the floor

“I hate that thing,” she hollered at me

And left in a huff out the door

‘Twas my turn to tinkle

And quick as a wink-le

Little Sweetie returned on the run

She clapped and applauded

My efforts she lauded

For accomplishing what she had not done

One time I arrived when she was about five

Before leaving I took a few pictures

There was one I’d not taken

Still leaves my heart aching

On a torn paper towel it’d been written

The message on camera

Read, “I love you Gramma”

From that day on I was smitten.

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