I Do Know This….


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Cherry Blossoms over by Queen’s Park 

Over the past couple of days I’ve been very much in my head playing with plots and sub-plots for several of the projects that I have on the go.

They are in various stages of development.  Lately, however, I’ve found myself consumed by the aspect and the very idea regarding time.

A blog post that I’ve been working on recently and that I hope to post over the next couple of days speaks to the whole concept of time and where it may have had its beginnings and our interpretation of it.

I must say that this topic has intrigued me on a very deep level.

Last week I was flipping channels on the TV.  I came upon a documentary of a woman whose work involves trying to decode early forms of written communications.

The evidence is strewn throughout caves worldwide.  The similarities that exist cannot be coincidental.

What their meaning is, now that’s the puzzle currently being explored and may well be the mystery that is never solved.

A few conversations have been sparked this week regarding what part of history we’d like to visit, spy on or observe.  I found myself asking why my conversational combatants (i.e. friends) would like to experience those particular moments in time.

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I love getting into conversations with this depth as it ignites something in me.

For me personally, I would go back to the moment that humankind had its ‘Ah Ha!” moment.

Something happened some 40,000 years ago and that is where I’d like to be a fly on the wall or in a cave.

A friend laughed and commented that they didn’t like the idea because it would be too difficult to live in the days of the caveman.  Too much work and being dragged about held little appeal.

I smiled insisting they just may like it, then stated that I didn’t want to stay permanently…I just wanted to take a peek at what caused humans to begin to develop the art forms and rudimentary written symbols all within the same time frame on a global front.

Last weekend I found myself researching the whole notion of time.  Time vs. religion, time vs. creation, and for that matter, how time has been measured.  Right or wrong.

One article written by a member of the clergy discussed the time frame around God’s creation of Heaven and Earth and when we made an appearance.

Interestingly enough his take on it was that God didn’t whip the world up with all the animals and people on it in just six days then took a break on the seventh.  His reasoning was that the span of time it took had been misinterpreted.

He felt biblical time was likely more in keeping with 40,000 years.

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This intrigued me.

Now I’m not a religious person.  In fact, I find many religions to be very confining.  Being taught an ideology that does not invite exploration and free thought and where the truths being delivered are expected to be accepted based on blind faith alone is a little frightening actually.

I do know this.  There is an energy that permeates this universe and it is a beautiful thing to tap into this awareness, this consciousness that exists.

My issue is not with the message but rather with the messenger.

Now do you think it possible that maybe, just maybe something has been lost or perhaps omitted in translation?

Humans are by nature and design a rather impressionable lot, are we not?

We can be deviant and downright treacherous.  We are curious beings that are equally gullible and malleable.

Then there is this issue of power.  There are those who hunger for it even when they aren’t sure of what it is exactly.

Don’t you think it entirely possible that an omnipresent entity offered, imposed or bestowed a wisdom upon us and those blessed with this knowledge might well have deviated from sharing all of this to satisfy and/or further their own station in life?

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Why is it collectively we cannot come together to, oh let’s say, end world hunger?  I’ve heard it said that there is enough food to feed the masses and that is all of us ten times over on a daily basis.

Why are we not assisting each other when it comes to illness?  Think of the recent Ebola outbreak.  Man, the minute it landed in North America…by God, they found a cure.

What about AIDS?

Why are we still fighting for girls to gain an education?

Why are we still fighting for sexual rights and freedoms?

Why do we still judge and condemn?

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Every Christmas, while we all have the warm fuzzies, we wish for world peace.

This notion sells a lot of greeting cards, doesn’t it?

These are just a few things that in my mind I’m often amazed still exist on such a large scale.

Still, we wish for it.  Why?

We’ve known its opposite for far too long.

You cannot know or appreciate peace without having suffered the loss and sorrow caused by the upheaval of war.

Much the same with happiness.  If you’ve known the sadness, and most of us have, then we appreciate those moments of bliss all the more.

And we are so good at killing, are we not?

Images of men wearing black balaclavas’ with guns and machetes don’t strike me as a Godly men.

Oddly or perhaps not, the majority of ‘Gods’ at the helm of our religions worldwide dictate that certain behaviours and actions are unacceptable.

Killing happens to be one of them.  So, I will suggest that perhaps we’re not getting this whole commandment thing right.

 

And as I processed and developed my various characters and plot lines for those books that will soon be enjoyed by the masses, I thought of death and its finality.  At least on this plain and our fear of it. I created a new line of friction and the sorrow and pain my heroine will experience leading her to experience a great deal of anxiety regarding the choices she’ll have to make.

And on that note…

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I was here

Welcome to the human race.

Enjoy your day.  Namaste.

 

 

 

 

 

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In Training (Day 34)….Essence


Our favorite day of the week has arrived.  Friday.  That erstwhile day we all get to exhale the week’s worth of stress as it winds down and leads us into the weekend.  Or at least that is kinda, sorta the theory behind it.  I slipped out into the dark of morning for my run with the temperature hovering around zero.  A thick frost was on the cars and rendering the blades of grass motionless and white.  Under the yellow street light the streets glistened like diamonds.

Man, I love running in weather like this.  Stars were peeking out at me and I exaggerated my breath so that it came out in billows of steamy white puffs.  Smiling I greeted the world around me and began my run.  I fell into a rather meditative and contemplative frame of mind today.  One thing I noted is that nothing has ever come easy to me.  Perhaps that is the point.  Perhaps that is why we set challenges for ourselves.  I thought about running, of when I introduced myself to this activity again.

At times the physical pain felt was excruciating.  Yet I didn’t let that stop me.  I accepted that the pain was in some way necessary.  With each level of accomplishment completed I would raise the bar a little higher.  Now I have raised the bar yet again.

I have changed the course of my Friday run a bit.  Now the first third of the run is going up a gradual hill.  I wondered if it is more difficult to go up an incline that is stretched out over several blocks than running up a hill that is steeper, but substantially shorter in distance.  The gradual hill at times feels like it is more challenging.  But in each of the courses there is the point where it levels off.  I don’t have to work so hard now.  The body is warmed up, the pores are open and the breath becomes stable and then the run is just pure bliss.  The hard part has been overcome and now the reward is the freedom I feel in this movement and the place it takes me to.

Last night I met with my writer’s group and had an interesting conversation with a gentleman about religion.  We were discussing our writing projects.  He explained that he was, through his writing project, seeking his essence.  He is of the Islamic faith and when he moved to Canada, a host of things presented themselves causing him to question his place in this world, his existence.

At one point he stated that I had ‘closed the door on religion’ because I related a few incidents in that I found religion to be confining and judgmental.  Now at no time did he ask me what my beliefs were and I did not ask this of him either.  Yet there was this assumption on his part that I was in essence denying a part of myself because I had turned away from religion.  Curious I thought.  I told him that I looked at all religions and noted their similarities rather than their differences.  He liked this statement. The other curious thing in this conversation that stood out was that he referred to God in the masculine the entire time.  I left this alone as well.  In my mind it is irrelevant.

As I was driving home last night it occurred to me as well that he did not ask me if I believed in God or not.  So it was an interesting conversation where subtle assumptions were made.  I enjoy conversations of this nature as I can also reflect on my points.  What I was trying to relay to him was that truth is in fact very subjective.  We do have absolute truths as I have discussed before but if there is one thing I love, it is engaging others opinions regarding this.  It is our humanness that is so unique to each of us that I delight in sharing.

And as I ran through the morning I gazed at the point where the parallel lines of the sidewalk seemed to meet.  It occurred to me that while my eyes tell me they are in fact joined at a certain point, I know this to be untrue.  I know this is just perception and that the lines will in fact never meet.  Yet the eyes see a different reality.

How we interpret information may vary and what we take from it can direct how we live our lives.  At some point though, I think we will all find that absolute truth that we seek, that is our essence.  Perhaps that is the just the simple of joy of being human.  Embracing the journey we have been set upon that will ultimately lead each of us to where it is we need to be.

Happy Friday everyone!

This Thing Called Fear


Getting over my fears has been one of the biggest hurdles of my life.  I was born in fear.  It is likely one of the first emotions instilled in me.  What fear does is restrict and confine.  It kills creativity and silences debate and free thought.

I am ruminating about these things as read that Malala Yousufzai, the young girl who was shot in the head by the Taliban, has had a successful surgery but remains in critical condition.    Let’s all send our thoughts and prayers to her for a speedy and full recovery.  I know at the age of 14, I was ruled by the fears that bound me.  I admire this young girl so very much for laying down the gauntlet and saying that it’s not acceptable to be treated in the manner that young girls and women are in Middle East.  That they deserve equal footing, an education and the same rights and privileges that men do.  This is a world-wide issue for women everywhere, as even in the Western world, we are still not on equal footing with our counterparts.

Understand too, that fear is what was instilled in the men who took it upon themselves to shoot and try to silence her.  It is not some sort of power or bravado that drives them.  It is fear.

Fear of their God.

This for me is one of the most fundamentally incorrect statements ever uttered by religious leaders.  Why should I fear God?

Yet these young men are taken as boys and fed a barrage of hate which masquerades as religious training.  But teaching someone to blow themselves up and take as many infidels with you  or  shoot to kill for the sake of appeasing your God…well, sorry.  I don’t buy it.

These young men come out of this tormented state fearing the world around them.  Anyone who does not agree with their ideology is considered a threat and must be eliminated.

Very sad that this is allowed to continue under the name of religion.

I have met people from every religion.  Good, beautiful people who worship regularly.  They don’t fear me nor I them, despite our different points of views.  I have met many people who have walked away from the faith they were raised in and I have known people who have found solace in a different faith.

The beauty of it is, there is always a respect shown and given.  No judgements are passed. Believe what you will, as long as your heart is in a peaceful and loving place, that is what matters.  And a person who goes out and willfully shoots someone in the head does not have their heart in a peaceful and loving place.

For a very long time I existed within the confines of fear.  Then the question that kept coming up was “What are you afraid of?”  And you know, I couldn’t answer right away.  It was a line of thinking that had simply never allowed me to look beyond the chains that bound.  And when I did venture out and begin to look beyond the realm of fear, what I found was so very beautiful.

That said, fear doesn’t let you go that easily.  It will still creep up ever so subtly to work its way back into the recesses of your thoughts.

I have been thinking about a silent protest.  Now, I am somewhat ambivalent about the use of that word.  Protests are, by their very nature, confrontational which can lead to heated temperaments and violent interactions.  So perhaps I should say just a silent gathering.

Here is the idea.  Everyone who reads this post, please share the idea that on Sunday, October 14th, 2012 at 11:00 AM go outside of your home.  Gaze up at the sky and offer your heartfelt prayers  and wishes  to Malala for a speedy recovery  but also offer a prayer to the young men who did this that they might find peace and guidance.  I know that many will find it abhorrent to offer such sentiments in the face of such a horrific act, yet a part of me feels we must somehow let these young men see past their fear.  Perhaps this is a start in offering our energy to assist them in this endeavour.

I don’t know.  It’s just a thought, but I am going to do it.  I hope you will join me.