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Wednesday, 30 December 2015

The Release Of Lennon (Deep Thought)

(Written JUNE 19th 2007)

Now this may only add to your strong impression that I am crazy or it may provoke thought about the world around you and how it can so easily be affected. Please take the time to read this it might change your mind.


    Yesterday as I went about my regular day after finishing up at school, As I always do, I decided to drop my book bag at my work. (pet City) Then to grab some lunch before transferring buses because there is always a 45min wait between. So I put my stuff in the back room (animal room) and journeyed downstairs to the food court to buy some lunch.
The problem with that was that once I got up to the counter and looked for my bank card I realized I had left it at home and had no money for my lunch. So back up to work I went, a little disappointed but I didn't mind so much knowing we had just gotten groceries at my house and I would be home within an hour or so.

Now I thought to myself, what will I do with all my time and no money?

I found myself venturing back to pet city to chat with my co-workers. When I got there Crystal and Holly were both busy, so I thought I would go see what animals were still out back, which ones were sick or had babies.

As I walked around greeting the rats, hamsters, mice, ferrets, guinea pigs, rabbits and various birds I noticed something. In our back room for those who have never seen, we have little room to fit a lot of stuff, among the many animals back there, we also have bugs.

There is a large cricket bin that holds approximately 1000 crickets, a 10 gal fish tank with hundreds of super worms and many small tubs filled with oatmeal/100 meal worms each.

It was strange I even noticed because of the ridiculous clutter, that one of the meal worm containers looked different. Instead of holding 100 meal worms I saw a single large black beetle on his back struggling to get up.

I couldn't help but stare, I was drawn with curiosity to pick up the container and observe this beetles struggle for survival. At first I even thought the creature may be dead and its limbs were merely twitching but upon opening the container it seemed to only awaken him to try harder.

So for 15mins I stared, thinking; “That poor beetle all he wants to do is live”, perhaps I should release him. "No" I thought to myself, if I did he would surely be stepped on in a mall and would hardly have a chance. He would be run over in the parking lot even if he did manage to escape the mall. Then I thought; “What if I fed him to another animal?” He would have been a meal for some person's lizard anyhow. But then I couldn't think of any animal in our store that would eat a full grown, hard shelled, beetle.

The more I thought about what I should do with this tiny struggling creature, the more I began to think about this beetle's fate being totally dependent upon my will. The thought crossed my mind that if man is governed by fate, then is this beetle’s struggle also dependent upon a predetermined fate as well? If there is such a figure as God and man is a reflection of him as we are told, then does God look down upon us like this poor little beetle asking himself what to do with this poor struggling human?


I ran out of thinking time because I had to get the bus, I had spent 40mins staring at an open container holding a beetle and oatmeal not knowing what to do. So it may have seemed a little weird but I asked Crystal on the way out if she thought anyone would mind me taking it with me, I knew the answer, and she looked at me weirdly and said “I don't think so”. So I put a hole for air in the container and shoved it in my purse.

On the bus I took it out again to observe the beetle's tiny legs slipping over and over on the edges of the container, causing it to fall on its back 100s of times, but it still got up.
This beetle to me, was beginning to become an inspiration for determination, reminding me of unfortunate humans and their own struggle for survival. This life in front of me was in my hands, literally in my hands. No one else at work would have given it a single thought, had I not taken this poor bug from where it was, it would have died shortly, alone, without anyone ever noticing.

Then I saw a little girl whispering to her mother, pointing at me holding the bug, scrunching up her face in disgust, as if it were me holding a pile of crap in my hand. And I felt bad for that poor child not knowing the value of nature and creatures other than herself. I hoped perhaps someday she would know.

Looking around the bus, I wondered what would any of these people do if I gave this beetle to them. How would they react? And it is hard to judge a person in any other case but I felt I could tell what would take place. Most of them were older and I could picture them either squishing it, being really freaked out, not wanting to touch or see it, or just looking at me funny. Then I thought to myself do I know any person I can think of, who would do otherwise? And no one came to mind.

Then I realized, if I am the only one who could possibly have made any difference in the life of this beetle, perhaps I was drawn to its squirming, seemingly insignificant presence, for a reason.


The Butterfly effect… The phrase refers to the idea that a butterfly's wings might create tiny changes in the atmosphere that ultimately cause a tornado to appear (or prevent a tornado from appearing). The flapping wing represents a small change in the initial condition of the system, which causes a chain of events leading to large-scale phenomena. Had the butterfly not flapped its wings, the trajectory of the system might have been vastly different.

Could my decision of this creature's fate affect the world?
A quote from John Lennon, who was also a "Beatle", then entered my complex thought;
"I'm not afraid of death because I don't believe in it. It's just getting out of one car, and into another"
Maybe the effect of this beetle having a chance against many odds, could disrupt the cycle of it’s being reincarnated. And I knew this could either be for the better or worse of mankind.

My decision was narrowed to two options as I saw it... I got off the
bus and walked slowly to my house, holding the container. Option #1 was to keep the beetle in my empty fish tank and prolong its life to my greatest ability, not letting it change or affect any part of the outside environment, merely letting it live. Option #2 was to set the beetle free in my back yard, where it could affect anything fate allowed.

Being a person deeply connected with the belief in karma and knowing I should do what I felt deep down was right, I made my decision.
..
I went into my house dropped my book bag went out through the side door and set the beetle free in the far side of the back yard.
As the beetle wandered into the grass and under a nearby rock I said to him;    "Be free Lennon, I made my difference, now make your own."

I don't know if the beetle will ever make it, I don't know if it died a minute after I left or that it made any difference in the change of it's environment. I do know however, that it made a difference in me. It made me pause and reflect on fate, it reminded me of how fortunate I am to have been given everything I have to make survival easy. It reminded me that maybe someone is watching, determining what to do with me next and it made me think about the difference something so small can make.

I had mercy on this small creature and I felt in turn it gave me a life lesson. I felt this lesson should be shared because as I see it, if more people understood how fortunate they were, the world would be a more positive place. And I believe it is important for us to appreciate all of the earth and its creatures because we alone do not make all the difference.

Now You might think I'm crazy, I think most people would. I do admit that I am different and I know this. You can believe what you like, it is your own opinion. But I thought I would share this story with whoever takes the time to read it. Perhaps it doesn't make any difference or maybe you are a person, who like me, is waiting for something seemingly insignificant to make a difference.

I hope you managed to read this far and something I said will change your perspective. I don't expect to make much of a difference but at least I tried and maybe you will too someday.

Tuesday, 29 December 2015

HATE; In The Cold Night Air


  Heard a girl screaming passionately outside, passing pizza corner:
Girl: "You should be F***ing arrested for a hate crime!!!!"
So I peek out the window to see three, average size, 20 something year old, well dressed men; being screamed at by, a medium height, slight build, 30 something year old woman in stilettos and a nice dress.
The woman was aggressively getting in the guys faces, telling them never to use that language, ever again.
As I scan the area, an older man approaches, with white hair and a nice knit scarf.
Older man: "Come on! don't talk to these people. Just drop it."
Younger guy #1: "Yeah it's over! You proved your point, you stupid b*tch, Look at his face! YOU PUNCHED his face in!!!"
3 of the guys were calling the woman names.

It was clear; she had never met them before, they had said something to offend her, she punched one of them in the face and was now standing up to their continuing, verbal remarks.
My attention was now on the older man. He tried and tried to get her attention. He even grabbed her arm to pull her back, which made her lunge forward even more, aggressively pointing in the guys faces, trying to intimidate them.
This went on for about 6 minutes.
There was no resolve in sight. Just violence, aggression, attitude and a tunnel vision on both sides, filled with anger and disgust.
There was pushing, shoving, insults, threats, name calling and hatred hung around in the cold night air.

She wouldn't back down...
I could already hear in my head how the older man would tell the story later.
"They called me a faggot. They called me a faggot and she wouldn't back down."
It was hard to tell how this would turn out. Weather he would be telling this story to; the police, a coroner, a judge or giving some sort of solemn speech at a podium.
There was every indication, that the probability of an amicable outcome would be scarce.
I watched the older man embarrassed. He would approach but then remove himself when he couldn't get her attention. Trying to keep a SAFE distance. Trying not to get involved.
Every time he approached the tension would rise and the younger males would open their body language and puff out their chests, sending the young woman into a blinding fury, perpetuating the argument.
The older man was embarrassed. You could tell he felt like he was somewhat responsible for the argument. I could see his pain. He rubbed his face, huffed and puffed. Retreated, then approached, frustrated, continually and cautiously not knowing what to do to De-escalate the situation.
His presence and proximity to the argument alone seemed to bring it to a dangerous climax with every approach.

In the end, the woman finally backed up, as the young men pointed out relentlessly and repeatedly, that SHE had been the violent one and that their friends face was damaged.
It almost seemed there would be an apology from both sides, for a brief shiny moment. At a stand still, where they all broke apart far enough still facing each other. Like they all had snapped out of their tiny bubble of hate for a moment to realize what they were doing to one another.
In the distance the older man spoke with a defeated tone and broke the silence, "Come on, lets go."
No police, no coroner, no judge, no podium.
The older man and the fierce young lady, wandered off in the opposite direction to the young men, who waited until they were just within earshot, to yell for all to hear, one last time...
Their words echoed in the streets and hung with hatred in the cold night air: "FAGGOT!!!"
I returned to my desk and contemplated for a moment. I sat in silence for a while and then began to write.

There may not have been any true justice, there may not be a podium in that man's future and the outcome was fortunately less violent than it seemed it would be.
But this story still deserves to be heard.
That is not the first argument I have heard, late in the night around here nor will it be the last but it was one I felt was important to share.
We live in a world where this happens every day. People viciously discriminate against one another. The victims stories are often never shared and they should be. There needs to be awareness about this disgusting behavior. It should be unacceptable.
What I didn't mention in this story is the 15 or more scattered bystanders within earshot and reach of the entire incident. As I stood next to my phone, in my pajamas, I went from being about to watch a movie and fall asleep to; about to call the police, with a phone in my hand.
No one would step in. No one would say a word. They pretended nothing was happening and turned away.

Tonight, discrimination, hate, fear, violence, and aggression, rang loud and clear here in Halifax. And in the face of it all, 1 woman out of 15-20 people present had the bravery to stand up against it.
Imagine if all the bystanders had backed her up? Imagine if she wasn't alone and didn't feel so threatened that she would resort to violence.
The next time you are in a public place where this is happening and you are with a group of people, PLEASE remember this story and consider helping instead of looking away.

Tuesday, 22 December 2015

Jozelle And The MetroBus (Fiction)



(The following is the beginning of a fictional story that I plan to add to in the future. I have decided to share some of what I’ve written. It is a work in progress, stay tuned to my website/blog for more!)

 
   He had a face like a crop circle, so symmetrical you would question whether it was God made, man made or if aliens were playing a joke. I averted eye contact as if his eyes were searchlights and I was hiding from a slave-master. I could hear the bloodhounds circling near by, disturbing the other women like birds, taking to the trees all around in curiosity, fear, wonder and astonishment.

Chirping rung in my ears like the dinner bell, that called me when starvation was consuming my last will. The hurricane of lust and hunger was so strong as I barely stood at its edge... he called my name. He called my name and it all fell, the hounds, the birds, the trees, the wind, the sky. The sky fell and I looked into the eyes of a beast so fierce that HE was the eye of a hurricane. "Forgive me Satan." I said . "I'll keep you as a friend but I won't do your favors.”

But Satan didn’t hear me. I’m not sure that he ever was listening when I went about my way, in between daydreams and suspicious temptations. I’d be lucky if anyone listened. The way I’d gone about everything in the night time, executed viciously any bit of good attempted in the day.
What kind of life is it anyway to avoid satisfaction? And then I wondered, did he utter my name? or did I imagine that because it was what I wanted to hear?

“What?” The man answered my previous statement as if he actually had not heard me. The look in his eyes no longer a searchlight, we were alone on the far side of the bar and his crop circle face was illuminated, by soft candles on the table nearby.
“You got a cigarette?” I asked noticing the nicotine stains on his fingers.
“How about you tell me your name? and what a pretty lady like yourself is doing sitting alone?”
“That’s more information than I’m willing to give for a cancer stick. I quit 2 weeks ago anyways, I’ll go without.”

I gathered my purse and jacket, signaled the bar tender to pay my tab and downed the third double whiskey on the rocks that I’d just ordered.

Leaving the bar alone hadn’t been my plan but some peoples cliches are enough to flip the chess board out of frustration. All he had to say was anything different.
All he had to do, was not be another unoriginal prick. I’ll leave him for the birds, there's plenty to choose from. All chirping in their flocks…

“Hey! Excuse me! Miss!? You left your phone on the bar!” The man came running behind me in the parking lot. This guy is the plague.
“How did you get my phone!?” I snapped. “You, you left it, on the bar!”
“You expect me to believe that? I’m not that careless.” I said.
“It, it was on the bar… Look, it’s your phone. Just take it. I’ll leave you alone. You obviously don’t like me, I get it!”
I looked at the phone. It was a touch screen similar to mine but had a beat up, black, rubber case around it and scratches across the glass.

My next to perfect recall was hazy as the last 2 shots set in. I re-winded to the moment I paid my tab at the bar and saw no phone anywhere near. My memory flickered as if I was in the moment reliving it, just as the candles flickered on the table nearby. I looked at the candles, their flame was yellow and orange but as they flickered, a blue and purple hue overcame them. I turned to the man slowly...

“Now that I have your attention, I have a favor to ask.”
I looked around confused. I could have sworn I was in the dark parking lot outside holding a cell phone that wasn’t mine.
“Do your hair real nice tomorrow for work. I’ll see you when you punch out.”

He got up and walked out.    


The next Morning:

He had one of those days where all the dishes were used and he couldn't find a spoon so he got a greasy burger for $1.99. You could see it on his torn t-shirt with the armpit stains that he didn't care anymore. No one helped him notice he let himself go because he never went anywhere fancy enough.

The day he parked outside waiting for a fare named "Jozelle" though, everything sputtered into abnormality and it did so with the swiftness of a hurtling baseball pitched at him from the stratosphere. If it were any other day she would have walked the 4 blocks in her high heel shoes and uncomfortable knee high stockings, but today it rained and she had spent an hour on her hair. Click click click click, scuff click, scuff "AHHhh!!!" Clunk, Splash!!! He saw her head bob up and down then disappear as she wiped out into a puddle on the sidewalk.

He didn't move right away. He let out a sigh of complaint into the humid air, then slowly got out of the cab to help her. By the time he came around to the passengers side she was standing up again, holding her black strapped, broken high heel in one hand and her glittery gold purse under her arm, as she meticulously tried to figure out if it was fixable.

"Jozelle?" He said awkwardly. She darted her eyes at him as if he had pushed her then abruptly opened the back door of his cab and plunked herself down avoiding eye contact at all cost. He went around the cab to the drivers side as his long silver grey hair collected water like a thirsty sponge.

He started up the car and waited for her to give directions, then noticed she was sobbing into both perfectly manicured hands like a 3 year old after someone had taken their lollipop. He rubbed his face in awkward impatience...

If he hadn't stopped for that greasy burger he would never have to put up with this Sh!t, he thought... (I coulda been on another run if I just found that spoon but nooo, I get a broad like this...). It was at that moment he heard a loud crashing and crunching sound of metal and the last thing before blacking out that he heard or saw was Jozelle screaming and a metro bus flying off the road..


To Be Continued:

Tuesday, 15 December 2015

The Two Cages

  (Memories Of A Life I lived In A Dream)


 I was living in Russia with an Italian guy in the loft of cheap motel. It was a rundown place, in a bad part of town but this attic/loft we were in, was was beautiful architecturally. It had beautiful exposed wooden beams and a sky light. The guys younger sister was also staying with us for a few months and had a mattress on the floor, with quilted blankets I had sewn for her. For the next week I was told we would have the place to herself because she had fallen for a boy.The guy got involved in a drug cartel and it got out of hand real fast.

Next thing I know there are two big cages in our tiny Loft. They are welded using cast iron and held together with heavy chains. I came home from the bakery I work at with a full paper bag of fresh buns and arrived home to find these cages.
No one was home.
I examined the cages and quickly realized that they had to be brought in in big pieces and built in our home because they were too heavy and big to come through the attic entrance.
I sat and did some sewing and fixed supper trying to ignore the cages when suddenly the entrance latch to our home opened. I heard yelling in another language. I heard The guys sister. Someone was screaming at her to go in first. I didn’t know much Russian but could pick out the basics. I was semi-fluent in Italian and heard her begging for her life in Italian.

I went into the bedroom and hid in the closet where I had full view of the scene unfolding. The girl lay on the floor crying as they put two men in the cages, one in each. They were bound by thick rope with cloth bags on their heads. There were 5 men heavily armed with big muscles and they ALL seemed angry. When they removed the bags from the other two me I still had no idea who they were. There rags tied around their eyes and mouths. The ringleader of the group threw the two men in the towering cages and locked them in. He told the guys sister, from what I could tell, that she was to feed them and water them enough only not to die. He had use for them.
The men then turned around and left.
I waited a couple of minutes and rushed down to the little sister. She was about 17 and had long flowing, perfectly curly hair that was strewn around her as she lay crying on the floor.
I could tell she had defense wounds and dreaded what they had done to her.
I ran and got a wash cloth and wooden bowl with warm water to clean her up.

She wouldn’t speak, she could only cry so I held her in silence and comfort.
Suddenly the entrance opened up and the guy who lived there with me rushed over frantic.
He just kept saying “No, what did they do!!!??? What did they do!!!??? NOOOO, my sister, my sister!” She looked at him and spit in his face. I stood and backed up as she wildly attacked him and started yelling. “You did this!!! YOU DID THIS!” and pointed to the cages.
I was completely confused.
I looked at him waiting for him to explain but he just put his hands on his head and wept in regret. Meanwhile there were two caged men lying battered and bound, barely moving. Still blindfolded and gagged. I walked over toward the cages and the guy ran to stop me.
“NO! you don’t know these men. They are BAD men! They are here for a reason.”
Me: “WHY are they here? Why are there cages in our home??? What kind of trouble have you caused?”
He went on to explain that he owed money. A LOT of it. So much he could never pay. They took his sister and threatened to do terrible things to her if he did not pay them.
Me: “Why did you lie to me? You said that she had fallen in love with the butcher's son and had run off to be with him for the week!!! What part of that translates to her being kidnapped and tortured???!!!”
Him: "I was afraid. I was afraid they would take you too!"
I threatened to leave him. He said they would find an kill me if I left. I had no choice.

Time passed and I lived my life normal, like none of it was happening. It was surreal. I would go to work, come home, make supper, feed the caged slaves. The sister would change their piss pots each day and we would all sit and eat supper while they watched like dogs.
One day a man walked into our home with shotgun. He walked over to the cage, took one of the men out in front of us at the dinner table and slit his throat. He then walked out without a word.
The sister fell to the floor and fainted, the guy walked over in shock watching the blood pour out of this mans neck. The other slave huddled in shock, weeping. I got up from the table and started packing my things.
I took my full suitcase and left, without a word to the guy or his sister I just left.

I went to another town further from the city and started a new life with a new name and tried to convince myself that all had been a bad dream.
One day I showed up at work and the police were there. I overheard them saying that I was a prime murder suspect. I ran but they saw me and began to chase me. It seemed I was running forever and one of the officers they had called in for the chase was none other than my (real life) uncle paddy whack. (The hilarity of that may be lost on those who don’t know him)
When they caught me and brought me in, I was told that the sister had fallen for a boy at the motel and told him that we kept slaves in the attic. She told them that she was made to feed them and that I had killed the one who died and had run away.
I then woke up.

Monday, 7 December 2015

Just A Dream: Wake Up On Earth


 All my dreams lately start with me doing something with great intentions. My heart is full and I am trying to do something for another person. Then the person gets angry at me because I am an inconvenience to them.  
The dream then changes to where I am wandering in the woods. Everything is dark and damp and mushrooms are everywhere... So many different kinds of mushrooms and I am afraid to step on them because I can feel their life draining as I tread over the soil.

 I feel like the ground is made of tiny strings of mushroom roots or fungus that has light flowing through it like blood through veins but it looks like tiny beads of water, on a delicate spider web moving, pulsing.  
There are colors, vibrant. They mostly resemble traffic lights. Amber green and yellow but other colors accent around them, dancing. I stop moving. I let my heart slow and beat with the pulse. I take my shoes off and dig my feet into the cold dark soil. I can feel humming. 

 I can feel fast vibrations and high frequencies. The forest is all light. My arms reach out as green light erupts from my chest and out of my mouth.  I can't feel my hands. I look and they are not there.   
Then I realize I can move through the beads of light now in the web of roots.. but they don't just connect through soil. The air now is a light version of water, with particles I have never seen before. I can hear them in a whisper, a high pitched but soothing hum.    

  I travel in a instant to where the people I know are. I can feel their dense particles pass heavily through and over me. There is a smell of rotting and rancid meat in the air wherever they travel. Everyone I know is decomposing, releasing poisonous gas that emanates from them, killing all of the light that surrounds them.  
 Like tiny light bulbs bursting and crumbling to ashes as the air dies around them. The roots in the ground shrivel and dry. I watch their breath. It is as though it is simply out of sync... As though, to sync it alone with the pulse of all in existence, would cause less death of light. 

 The thoughts of every human on earth creates a dense wave like dropping boulders into a pond. The darker the thought, the more negative, the larger the boulder. As the boulder drops it crushes bulbs of light on impact through the air. Then like an atomic bomb creates a ground zero. It washes through the other humans and I see a strange mathematical equation as it spreads. 

 Math is no longer what I ever perceived it as. It becomes a simple probability matter. It makes perfect sense to me and numbers flow like a new language I have known since birth. The numbers show me pictures. The numbers paint elaborate maps.     
 I hear a song in the distance. One too familiar. One I never wanted to hear. 
 I am suddenly among the stars looking at earth, drifting further away. I have been called back to where I’m from. Earth is a dream I’m told not to worry about. No big deal.  But It felt so real. Like a mission. It felt…. 
I look around and I am home. No hands. no feet, no breath. No heavy weight of the world, no one to worry about. Nothing to worry about.  


I am at peace. Earth was just a dream… Or was it a nightmare? Or was it a failed mission? Either way I am at peace and I am home.  
And then I wake up on earth.