His Boy Soldier Son

*
Shocked by the crude facts of civil war
portrayed in ‘Blood Diamond’ but I adore
the theme running like a golden cord
throughout the story

Leonardo DiCaprio, a cynic, smuggling
diamonds, so deeply moved by an African
father’s love for his boy soldier son that
DiCaprio gives up his life

And entrusts a rare diamond to the African
man to create a new life for his family, turning
his exploitation of diamonds into a great
story, thus enforcing

Legal protection for African countries and win
global support for the African cause of freedom
from mercenary involvement in civil wars, rebel
groups fighting for control of

Rich natural resources, Africa destroyed
by invaders as well as her
own citizens…

The film called “Blood Diamond” portrays
civil war in Sierra Leone 1999
*

A Long-Lost Love

*
Now THIS is how a love story should read –
the young man dies in an avalanche and
when Death meets him, He says ‘Wherever
you go, you go together’ and leads him
to his eighteen-year old bride

She tells him that when he vanished, she
lived till she was seventy, then Death came
and made her young again and brought her
here, to her long-lost love, he smiles and
remarks wonderingly

‘But I had my accident just now, how could
all that time have passed?’ She smiles back
at him with the eyes of an eighteen-year old
lass who had just danced the tango with
Death himself

THIS is what romance is all about, thank you
Terry Pratchett, I shall always remember this
when coming across another story of a
long-lost love…

“Reaper Man” Terry Pratchett, Gollancz, 1991
p. 243 (Tango) p. 246 ‘Wherever you go,
you go together’
*

Happy And Free

*
It is that time of the year when I start
to believe I might be able to achieve
all kinds of miracles, the house is filled
with white rolls and cold meats, it tastes
delicious to me, I can’t stop eating, I feast
on every illegal dish, drinking migraine pills
by the dozen, always hoping that the pro-
blems of food intolerance will be gone
through the miracle of belief

I keep ‘Seth Speaks’ on my bedside table,
living in the here and now without a fantasy
at the back of my mind, I’m holding onto
Seth’s assurance that we are living many
lives simultaneously, meaning I can enjoy
this one without worrying it is all there is,
the beauty of infinity will safely go on
even while I keep my focus solely
upon my little world

My heart is as light as a feather, telling
grandma Alice all is forgiven, knowing
that she never did anything that needs
absolution, but feeling her guilt, I ab-
solved us both from any blame put
upon us by others less fortunate in
making decisions to blame and
to hate – and now I feel calm,
happy and free…
*

Washing Machine Fantasy

*
The soul of my washing machine is deeply
perturbed, with ponderous slowness, with
languid insouciance, it contemplates every
step must take, the old rivalry between ef-
ficiency, the washing machine and me
surfacing again

The washing machine detests me and my
frivolous ways, I dared change its sacred
settings, now it sulks, refusing to move to
new cycles, stops mid-action to meditate;
FM Classic playing Vivaldi which drives
me to totally mad

I refuse to play the machine’s handmaiden,
interfere with every cycle, add extra water,
this machine has been my Nemesis since
Day One but I shall overcome, I am doing
the washing on MY terms, double-quick,
super-efficient

Refusing to bow to the rules laid down by
machine programmers, such slow progress
would drive a saint nuts and I am no saint,
I have no patience at all, I delight in taking
shortcuts when the ways of yore are mere
tradition, meaningless in itself

I’ll show the washing machine I know my
rights as a human being - entitled to
innovation and freedom!
*

Reincarnational Lives

*
Accompanied hubby to church where we
learnt the Pastor is going on leave to the
Free State, well, that is what I remember
best after a sermon focused on the fact
that the nativity scene did not include the
three wise men, they came afterwards

I fail to see the importance but it clearly
made the pastor feel better to get it off his
chest - right now I am gloating about a tidy
kitchen, I cleaned it myself; hubby smiling
after watching ‘Bedtime Stories’ with Adam
Sandler, promising happy endings

The universe splits every time we make a
decision and for every probability there is a
happy ending in an alternative universe and
every happy ending is the beginning of a new
infinite cycle of choices which explains the
meaning of infinity - I feel so much love

For my family, knowing that after leaving them
to their own devices à la Shantaram they will go
on trying means and ends to their hearts’ delight
until they figure out whether the end justifies the
means; I want to read ‘Seth Speaks’ by Jane
Roberts to enjoy Seth’s take on reality

Claiming we live reincarnational lives not con-
secutively but simultaneously – that our seven-
teenth century experience runs concurrently
with our lives in 3000 AD, something I love to
contemplate; impossible to ascertain whether
it is true, but so glorious to stave off boredom!
*

SINGING, INTERNET & FANTASIES 26/12/09

*
SINGING DROWNED OUT

It is useless to sing in church, these
modern clowns look down on ancient
constructions, now religious buildings
are built with a flat roof

There is no acoustics, no rich, sonorous
sound, no reverberating echo, no natural
amplification, it feels like singing straight
into cotton balls

The sound of my voice is absorbed and
I can’t even hear myself, only the show-
offs on stage with microphones enjoy
themselves

A tenor weaving around the melody so
he can stand out, the electric organ a
nightmare of booming sound, making
sure

Our uncouth singing is drowned out...


LOST INTERNET CONNECTION

Lost my Internet connection, have to wait
till the kids vacate their computer before
I can Memory Stick my contributions and
post to Blogspot

My first inclination was to think it was the
devil himself who did this to me, then re-
membering how much I like him, I deci-
ded this must be a good thing

Keeping me from pestering all god-fearing
fellows with my wild ideas and unfounded
surmises; hubby complained I did not need
him and the kids when

I read too much, played too much on the
Internet, I scaled down and only concentrate
on cleaning house and accompanying them
everywhere, listening to their conversation

It is unnerving, I cannot believe how small
the world feels - surely they should know
by now how much I love them, even if I
need to feel the whole universe

Not only the small spot we live in!


FANTASIES SPICE UP LIFE

Today is free-for-all day, everyone must
provide for themselves, no official meals
organised, with my insides all jittery with
blood sugar low, my head heavy and
ears stuffed

the day is looming like a grinning demon
ready to swallow me and my symptoms
until we spin in an endless maelstrom of
bewildering sensations and discomfort,
unable to do anything sensible

Waiting for the dizzy lightheaded feeling
to stop so I can think straight again, or at
least, just think; I always think in circles,
that’s what I do, thinking straight is for
those who love playing with numbers

And configuring statistics, I carefully eschew
that route, therein lies death and destruction
of all I hold dear, especially of the fantasies
that spice up life!

It seems like Terry Pratchett had the same idea:

“The living never found out half of what was really
happening because they were too busy being the
living. The living ignored the strange and wonderful
because life was too full of the boring and mundane.”

Quoted from p. 55 “Reaper Man” Terry Pratchett,
Gollancz 1991
*

Mere Puppets 25 December 2009

*
We went to church today, the congregation jumping
up and down like a Jack-in-the-box, sing, sit, sing, sit,
the Pastor hi-jacked Susan Boyle to illustrate God’s
bounty for those who dream then explained the Lord
provides for those who trust in Him

Held up the proud parents of a little boy who recupe-
rated, once again the question arises why one Susan
made it, why one boy beat cancer - what about others
once again I conclude that dreams fulfilled are due to
a certain attitude, not a psychopathic

Self-constructed godly being wandering about in an
old-fashioned cloak, since he is so idiosyncratic, faith
in him is based on maybe one day he might hear a
prayer and only certain people are privileged, this
attitude was illustrated by the mystagogue

Annex all positive events for god, Greenpeace and can-
cer patients, ascribe all good deeds to him, irrespective
of original initiative and use it to inspire the faithful
while relegating all bad events to the devil’s domain
obtaining power over people by making them

Mere puppets in the hand of God and devil...
*

Gates To Keep Us Safe

*
Got my first cell phone that can take photos
for Christmas, photographing everything, the
garden, the gate, Odalisque, inside, the fairies,
the nativity scene

It feels like magic to me, just as the embossed
booklet I played with when I was small, equivalent
to the Magic Flute* that brought power to me, when
I hold my phone

I feel like a witch who has power beyond compare,
this is what technology means to mankind, surprised
that our many iron gates to keep us safe look so good
on photographs!


* Magic Flute – Mozart’s Opera, I did not know what
it was about, but ran everywhere with bits of shiny
paper, playing it had magic powers

*

Honour Them

*
Father and mother approve of their own lives
remember being great parents, scaring me into
obedience to such an extent I disappeared, was
a great way to teach me humility

They are good Christians who never held onto
possessions, saved the souls of my siblings by
teaching them it is wrong to own anything, being
disciples of Jesus with only enough to eat

My brother Ian and I reject their culture of living
in poverty, existing only for charity; mother tries
to evangelize me, to give up my life for her
religion, to send my kids to her

I am free to leave my parents after the savage
scenes of violence in which they played virtuous
parents subjecting their rebellious children while
blaming grandma for everything

I respect their way of life, but refuse to take part in
the emotional blackmail by which they live, I seek
different rules, they find insistence on discipline
and consistent behaviour ridiculous

Regard a quest for integrity with grave distrust because
they believe in blind obedience to irrational demands,
persist in the same behavior that led to bankruptcy
which they defend as doing the right thing

They expect me to show solidarity by following their
example; when I refuse, they make me invisible; I
shall honour them by not interfering again…
*

No-one To Talk To

*
My father kindly put life into perspective today
upon my making enquiries he happily explained
grandma Alice wanted some pocket money so
she drove the crèche kombi while taking care of
five kids, preparing meals every day

She earned extra income just to be jolly, a mother
who once stole for her son and nearly ended in jail,
frolicked by selling dresses she made, idly dabbling
with extra work just for fun, indeed, charmed by his
adroit explanation for grandma’s hard work

I asked him about his aggression when we were small,
eyes staring wildly he angrily replied he had never been
aggressive at all, never hit his kids, maybe once, adding
that he must have been drunk, he admits to throttling
my sister, insisting that was okay

I can see he has a point, observing my twin sister being
throttled by my dad sure builds character, my brother re-
calls mother also throttling her, a most reassuring way to
spend one’s childhood, no reason to be anxious or
scared when I was small

It is not as if they did it too often after all, besides he never
did anything to me; I know because I was invisible, unable
to protect my sister against the murderous intent of both
parents I did not plan on drawing their attention, I took
refuge in a book, there was no-one to talk to

And nothing to say…
*

Die In Poverty

*
Mother insists on being poor and destitute as a
sacrifice to her fanatic desire to be a disciple of
the most high, a deity who requires followers
to die in poverty

Father cannot respect anything that is his, I put
hubby in charge of everything, the moment some-
thing is mine, I feel guilty and wrong, mother’s
only desire is to give away everything

Dad feels so bad about himself, he rejects all
given in his care; two fanatics together, dad a
Robin Hood, taking care of others while
mother serves a loveless god
*

Thank You Terry Pratchett

*
Thank you Terry Pratchett for saving ‘The
Little Match Girl’ originally by Hans Christian
Andersen, for sending Death, Susan’s grand-
father, posing as Hogfather in the Discworld,
to save her life, erasing forever the terrible
image of a little girl dying while seeing visions
in burning matches – thank you for delivering
us from a most horrible nightmare scene!

Thank you also for pointing out how stupid Romeo
and Juliet were, how easily they could have ascer-
tained that each was alive before trying suicide,
thank you for taking our fear away and giving us a
new take on life, for showing that there is no such
thing as fate, only silly humans with bad decisions; -
thank you Walt Disney for saving ‘The Little Mermaid’
from death and a hundred pained years

To win an eternal soul – These stories used to haunt
me, plagued my sleep, but you solved the problem
by pointing out fallacies; you will never know how
much you have helped me in coming to terms with
the harsh culture in which we live – that gave rise
to spectres like this!


“Hogfather” Terry Pratchett – Gollanz, 1996
*

Haunt My Psyche

*
It is difficult to find a reason for my existence
an empty place in my head where the chem
containing the reason should be

Today I know mother is a fanatic, beyond all
bounds of reason, her fanatic, self-centred
perspective allowed her to reject

Family in pursuit of her fanatic ideal to become
a revered mystic - without a foundation of love
distorting perception of ethics and morality

Our brains are fireworks of confusion as the
evidence of our senses fight against mother’s
illusions; fanatics force their views on others

Destroying their own kids in their path, I have to
watch as she still holds my twin sister enthral as
her slave, she refuses to listen to explanations

Nothing can free her from despair and alienation,
my brothers and sister have lost their compass in
life, living with memories distorted

Confused by fanatic control which rejected and
demeaned true devotion, our minds unhinged,
hearts bleeding

I accept responsibility for falling victim to her control
and fanaticism, still dealing with the wounds in my
heart left by traumatic childhood events

I fled without confronting and solving the cause of
my fright which continues to haunt my psyche...
*

Dear Edmuse22

*
I read Sartre at university – both in French
and in philosophy course – as well as
“L‘Étranger” by Camus –

I was deeply shocked and unhappy, mostly because
I identified and associated with their accounts and
could not break free

I have spent a lifetime of spiritual reading in order
to break free, and today I thank Wayne Dyer, Robin
Norwood, etc., for the insights that helped me

To break free of the danger and pain that these writers
posed to me – and I love anything by Colin Wilson; I
lost his Encyclopedia of the Unexplained

BUT I read a lot of his stuff and I totally agree!
*

Dream For Infinity

*
When we got back Linah was waiting
for us like the goddess of love, her little
grandchild, Jabu, smiling at her side

Tiaan insisted on weighing Jabu, fifteen
kilograms, five of it must be her hair,
Martin declared; - Nici was white

Sick with the flue, Willem had left, an
angel in disguise, he makes Nici happy
tells Tiaan the secrets of the universe

I adore my family, I love that they forgive
me for messing up, for getting help to do
the washing and clean the dishes

I love it that Martin wants the best for
every child, drives us everywhere, for-
gives me for falling asleep instead of

Keeping him company, I love my sister
for taking care of my parents, for serving
my mother as if she were a queen

For presenting her with boiled water and
everything she requires to fulfil her dreams
of being a prophet of the most High

For spending days at a state hospital to get
help for my father; for not understanding that
her problems with Grandma Alice was due to

Her own rebellion; or that mother’s inability to
admit that grandma did all the work which en-
abled mother to pose as a pillar of society

Caused serious mental problems – I forgive them
all for making me into a simpleton, I am the happiest
fool that has ever been, my life is filled with wonders

The first being that grandma Alice loved me and my
brothers and sisters so much – and loved her own
kids, my uncle and mother, so much

She gave her life for us all – lives dearly bought –
a treasure, charmed, wonderful – a dream
for infinity...
*

Panache For Social Barbecues

*
Not yet expressed my frustration
at being here, a prisoner, locked
up in this holiday resort, the wind
chasing us off the beach, hubby
refuses to barbecue in communal
proximity, refuses to visit a novelty
nursery

Found a second-hand book to read,
badly written, meaningless stuff, a
parody of war and war-time heroes
all stoned and high, unwilling to be
brave, bearing no message except
life is useless and boring, war does
not offer

Adventure or fun, clearly indicating
only fools would waste their time
reading this, I prefer hubby’s run-
ner’s magazine and travelogues;
without a fantasy to lift me out of
the feeling of being inappropriate
and ridiculous

Must hide my depression as best I
might, no challenge, no adventure,
no excitement, no interest, even
a horrible letter to the president
complaining that people breathe
too much oxygen, is better than
this

Oh, how I lament not being blessed
with the hedonistic, happy gene that
enables people to lie in the sun all
day long, swim in a hot-water pool,
play games, prepare dishes with the
necessary panache for social
barbecues...
*

Imprisoned

*Thanks to hubby’s knowledge of my mother’s
snobbishness and sister’s arrogance he can
win any argument by saying I am just like them

I have no criterion, no measure of sanity, I am
at the mercy of his decisions and opinions, until
I die there is no release from the lies of this life

I shall never forget how impossible to gauge the
relevance of anything I do or say after exposure
to my father and mother and sister, I shall never

Be free as long as I live unless I can find someone
who loves me as I am; inappropriate behaviour and
broken dreams; wishing and hoping and everything

But until then, I am imprisoned by my past - just turn
the screws and I am held fast...
*

Death Only Release

*
Through my family’s ridiculous behaviour
I have been robbed of a compass to evaluate
my own behaviour and the appropriateness of
anything I do and say, there has never been a day
when my behaviour was not open to censure, I can
never trust my own judgment and for all people I meet
I am inappropriate – death the only release I can think of...
*

Fettered Forever

*
Hubby complains, please do not make
a sound when people pass by, you do
not sound right; I sigh, I have finished
my books, read all I brought

Only hubby’s magazines - which do not
interest me - are left, I must remain re-
served, focus on something else, not
give my stupid rendition of small talk

Not refer to books and other subjects, I
must listen to what the others say and
nod my head – all I hope is that soon
I can go to bed, I accept his censure

Having grown up with ridiculous people,
I must be terribly ridiculous myself, if you
saw the film called “Stella Dallas” – look
it up on the Internet – you will know

How embarrassing lack of context can
be, when hubby points out to me all I
say is inappropriate, I have to accept
my past is asserting itself

I am not yet ready to meet other people, I
still turn into a hunchback, the little alien
in my head still cannot assume dignity –
I need a burka – at least

My sunglasses and wide-rimmed sun-
hat protects like a burka – luckily, I
believe consciousness goes on after
death, in another dimension

In another universe where I might be
able to shed my ridiculous aspect, I am
scared of being me, emulating my
pretentious, clownish relations

Hubby’s constant criticism is the only
thing that stands between me and total
perdition, I see his rebukes as my
salvation, hoping I shall

Bleed to death, to start anew where the
taint of snobbish pretention and ridicule
will not keep me fettered forever, until
then I accept being a second-class

Citizen...
*

Shades of Grey

*The light is grey, a green-
grey sea, the sky blue-
grey above

Time creeping forwards
in a way that would have
sent Pratchett into frenzies
about Time being a Lady
enclosed within a glass
case

And would have made you
exclaim about the non-
existence of uplifting
elements in the
firmament

I am sitting here, finished
reading Feet of Clay and
Maxwell’s “101 Relation-
ships” - out of reading
matter - and the world
remains

Non-descript in
shades of
grey
*

Words in Their Hearts

*I love reading Feet of Clay, the golems
baked themselves a king and put too
much chem – words – in his head:

‘Create peace and justice for all, Rule
us wisely, Teach us Freedom’ – the king
went beserk and killed all who made him

The demands on him were too much, one
golem was set free at the price of one
dollar for him, with his head smashed

He wrote you cannot destroy the words in
your heart - then he learnt it is frightening
to be free - it is like having

The top of your head opened up; people
want to be unfree, it makes them feel
safe to live within rules

Remaining ignorant of
the words in their hearts...


“Feet Of Clay” Terry Pratchett – Gollanz 1996
Quoted from pp 260 and 282.
*

*

Exploiting Child Adoption

*
A programme about exploiting child adoption
I am growing angrier and angrier, adopting
children is a minefield of money-mongering,
the adoptive cycle proves too lucrative, African
children brought up as privileged suing parents
for taking them out of their cultural context

Someone makes money for every transaction
human trafficking Hollywood-style, a rich star
needing attention, doing something catching
to receive free coverage – oh brilliant, what
fun, both kids and adoptive parents and those
giving up the kid making profit from this

Man, the world of finance is fun, money for
everyone, just complain about injustice in
every good deed that is done and make a
double deal from it, first save the kid from
poverty by selling it and paying the parents
then sue the adoptive parents again

Claiming privileges are not acceptable unless
cultural taboos are met, adoption across the
cultural divide means lots of money for
everyone...
*

Serves If It Wants To

*
There are some things inviolate that
cannot be changed by belief or faith:
the free choice of a human being is
beyond our control, open only to love
and affection, honour and respect

On page 25 Shantaram wrote wisdom
sometimes is the opposite* of love which
survives because it is not wise – I don’t
agree; love is everywhere, as abundant
as sand on the beach

Only wisdom which manifests in honour
and respect for freedom and need, desire
and ability, level of development, taking
stock of reality and offering possibilities
of improvement

Fills love with discernment and makes it
powerful; love without ideals to direct the
energy is a destructive explosion, only
wisdom gives direction and meaning to
primitive urges

Rational, scientific ethic based on observation
leads to promoting life, only the freedom of
knowledge gleaned through learning, en-
ables humans to aim capacity to love in a
certain direction

Experience teaches all forms of exploitation
lead to destruction of freedom, wisdom is to
love unconditionally – without expecting
advantages, true love is cherishing the
independence of a beloved

True love delights in a spectacle presented
without awareness of our existence, true
love enchants by expressing approval and
adoration without expecting reciprocal
benefits

True love looks upon people as babies, beautiful
to behold, primitive and needy, adventurous and
unscrupulous, and admires the view, enjoys the
derring-do, serves if it wants to, from an adult
point of view that needs nothing

In return, no rewards, no recognition, exerting no
pressure, setting no requirements –
that is true love!

[*Therefore Wisdom always is the epitome of true
love, never the opposite; love which is not wise
never survives]

Gregory David Robert “Shantaram” Abacus 2004
Quoted from page 25.
*

More Gargantuan

*
I learn from my mistakes, or I try to,
I packed both foundation and powder
for skincare as we are leaving for Natal
at the seaside, because I know although
it will not make me look better, it will make
me feel good – and that is all I ever want

I have learnt it is at my peril that I ignore
what Tiaan is saying when he invites me
to watch a movie with him, tonight we saw
a moving rendition of gay rights, making us
aware of the danger of stereotyping, I
loathe prejudice, watching this

I saw how destructive stereotypes and gender
issues, saw how limiting a mother’s refusal to
listen to the wishes of her kids - if I did not
watch this movie, I would have lost these
moments with Tiaan, yet my life is about
him, working at the office to earn

The wherewithal to offer Tiaan and Nici enough
affluence to prevent them being emperors without
clothes, finding financial power to protect them; they
need not assume respectability behind a mask of
pretence - I am not like grandma Alice who could
keep fantasies of grandeur alive

Working herself to death, I am afraid, after seeing
her sacrificed on the ire of her own kids, I have lost
the desire to emulate her, I shall employ fantasy to
pay tribute to her; she did an epic task, more
gargantuan than anything I have
read about…
*

Intersecting Relationships

*

On page 632 Shantaram says he lost
the mark on the psychic map that says
you are here, identity and personality
are like coordinates drawn by intersec-
ting relationships, we know who and
what we are by reference to the rea-
sons we love special people

The first feeling I recall was abandon-
ment, feeling my life is meaningless, I
had no marks to indicate where I was,
the intersecting relationship we had
with our parents was fiendish alienation
and malice towards each other, living
in hell, no affection at all

There were no reasons to love anyone,
only resentment and anger ever surfaced,
my sister and I were nauseous, lost, without
reference to a safe place or friendship, when
I saw mother, I wanted to cry, when I saw
dad, I wanted to die; imitating my brothers
in everything, expecting help

But they were as lost as we were, grandma
was running and talking and working, at night
when we were ill, only she made an appear-
ance, during the day coldness was palpable,
the relationships in our house intersected at
a point called hatred, therefore we fell on
our knees in adoration

When tannie Marieta appeared and took an
interest in us, teaching us games, taking us
with her on outings, looking like love, so
very beautiful, showing us life, when
she came visiting, the sun came out…

Gregory David Robert “Shantaram” Abacus 2004
Quotes taken from page 632.
*

Burlesque: Malice Aforethought

*
Do you know the absolute burlesque
when your father is telling everybody
in the loudest, scathing voice, exactly
how bad and dysfunctional mother is

While she is playing the role of Lady,
pretentious, pushing her kids into the
spotlight as if we can sing – like per-
forming monkeys - while father’s

Droning voice keeps delineating every
mistake she has ever made, informing
everyone how she messed up - never
does he explain why he refuses to split

Why he insists on staying with a person
who treats him with utter contempt, if he
cannot respect her, if she cannot honour
him; it seems like malice aforethought

That keeps them in orbit around another,
I cannot remain in the same place with
both of them, once when driving I had to
force them to stop bickering

Their arguing, running each other down,
making me a dangerous driver, and I am
not the best driver to begin with, having
been blessed with recklessness…
*

Persist In Her Fallacy

*
When I tell serious authors I read and
write about fairytales, they warn me
not to waste time

Claiming that Hans Christian Andersen’s
tales are useless in spite of the fact that
his allegories appear everywhere…

The Emperor is without clothes denotes
snobbery, ‘noblesse oblige’ cried grand-
ma’s family, keeping up appearances

Grandma Alice worked hard to earn the
money with which these emperors lived
gloriously, working like Cinderella

To send them to the ball, mother presenting
as a lady who cannot scrub floors, dad’s
family was flabbergasted to see

The trouble grandma Alice took to make mother
seem privileged, I cried when I first read
Pearl Buck ‘The Good Earth’

A peasant mother despised working so hard
for a better future for her child – and Mother
so contemptuous of Grandma’s peasant work

Which she did to pay for mother’s luxuries, Hans
Christian Andersen wrote a story about this, a girl
who despised her mother

Throwing down the loaves of bread sent for her
mother’s meal, to keep her feet from being soiled
by touching dirt, she was sucked into the earth

For being without respect for her humble origins,
for being too proud, for not honouring her
mother’s hard work

Would my mother learn from this analogy, or
will she persist in her fallacy?


“The Good Earth” Pearl Buck
“The Emperor Has No Clothes” and “The Girl Who
Trod on the Loaf “ Hans ChristianAndersen (1859)

There was once a girl who trod on a loaf to avoid soiling
her shoes, then misfortunes happened to her in con-
sequence. She was a poor child, but proud and presuming.

She grew worse with years and she was pretty, so she was
excused, when she should have been sharply reproved.

“Your headstrong will requires severity to conquer it,”
her mother often said to her. “As a little child you used
to trample on my apron, but one day I fear you will
trample on my heart.”

And, alas! this fear was realized.

http://www.fairytalescollection.com/hans_christian_anderson/
*

Humiliation, Agitation, Confusion

*
Sank into a deeper layer today, below the
fear that you infused with hope and trust,
a layer of agitation and total confusion, I
felt so ridiculous I could barely control my
face - muscles twitched, brain-freeze,
feeling ashamed of being me

Shantaram says p.432 humiliation makes us
feel ashamed, striking the heart that wants to
love - when violated we feel shame at being
human - I become the hunchback of Notre
Dame, cannot work or think, I flee from my
existence into being a crocodile

My real self shrinks into a little alien hanging
from the rafters in my head, I need to flee into
dreams to unfreeze my brain and concentrate,
within the deepest layers of my experience
there is a humiliation so deep, I cannot
explain it in words that make sense

Shantaram’s description approaches the feeling,
this is the first thing I felt when I started my life, I
felt like this before I turned four, it incapacitates
me, I have to play a role to be able to function
but that is dangerous, losing the ability to
connect with reality, I am trying to work

Through this layer of madness in order to find
myself, to stop running, to watch the painful
scenes of early youth – or at least, I am
planning to, the hurt might come back
and I’m afraid…

Gregory David Roberts “Shantaram” Abacus 2004
p. 432
*

Autobiography

*
‘Tis rather a shock growing up with role models
that seem wonderful - only to discover as one
grows older that the person so adored is more
flawed than you could ever have guessed

Imitating others we obtain the same advantages
and suffer the same censure as well, I could not
understand why imitating mother brought me
enormous problems as I grew older, but then

I noticed the consequence for family members living
with her was disaster and alienation, hostilities and
full-scale war, I looked again at my role model to
discover the cause of all the chaos

I finally found the answer to the riddle in her fantasy
world, total withdrawal from reality made it impossible
to make contact with other people, what is worse,
she lost contact with herself, therefore

She is faced with a series of roles she plays, each one
interpreting facts differently, she tells a different story to
each person in her life, when her interlocutors compare
their different versions, all become belligerent

She tells my sister she is ill and dying while she tells me
she is happy and thriving, she tells her church pastor she
feels fine while she seems to be mortally injured when
meeting my sister and father - then they get angry with

The callous pastor who left mother to perish without help,
not realizing that the act of death mother presents for the
family’s benefit is an unconscious desire mother has to
have them help and sympathise, mother does not know

The family loves her enough to help even if she is not dying
at all, mother cannot understand why everybody around her
is fighting wherever she goes, she always tells different things
to different people, then they fight about their perceptions

Of mother and her state of health – I looked at the picture I
saw, the solution to the riddle of mother’s conflict-ridden life
and smiled resignedly, this is the role-model I have imitated
all my life, no wonder I have no mental peace, and I

Have been studying human nature and have the help of a mentor
to overcome my psychological problems - I can just imagine how
terribly unsettled mother’s inner life must be, although she bears
no malice in her, because of her mental instability

She could not get on with grandma Alice, could not see that my
father looked ridiculous dressed up like a lord, my father can be
mistaken for Alfred P. Dolittle, but never for Henry Higgins,
yet mother refused to see the difference

She coerced my father to accompany her to elite social functions
never realizing how ridiculous he made her appear because he
was a common dust-man with a gift for eloquence while she
was like Mrs Eynsford Hill, the mother of Clara and Freddy

A snob who kept up appearances while she was so poor, she
never sent Freddy to school so that he was a sham of a noble
lord; mother liked to mix with respectable people and refused
to see that forcing my father to stand at her side

Defeated her purpose, made her seem pompous, the worst is
it made us the laughing stock in our little world - as Elizabeth
Bennet sighed, nothing could ever make up for the shame and
humiliation she and Jane suffered by her mother’s pretensions

The family suffered under mother’s attempts to present my father
as a polished lord while he was a diamond in the rough, she played
at being The Queen of Hearts while my father was Attila the Hun
and she tried to make people believe that this Barbarian

Was an honourable citizen, refusing to accept the world as it is,
today I have to work very hard to separate truth from fiction, so
as to escape the same pitfalls, being imaginative is very
enjoyable, but terribly dangerous too

I trust that hubby helps me to separate truth from fiction and look
up to my older brother for guidance in seeing reality as it is, only
then shall I be able to live up to the ideals Shantaram illustrated
so beautifully as he got rid of his pretence of being

Innocent of the heartache and crime that messed up his life before
he embraced reality and forgave himself and then all the others…


References:

Characters in “Pygmalion” by George Bernard Shaw
Characters in “Pride and Prejudice” by Jane Austen
Character in “Alice in Wonderland” by Lewis Carroll
Author ‘s nickname “Shantaram – Man of Peace” by
Gregory David Roberts
*

Accepting Blame, Manipulation

*
On p.871 Shantaram says we can deal with
pain by accepting our own part in causing it
he accepted blame for the way his marriage
had failed and the heart-ache

He felt the release of self-doubt, resentment
and fear in total forgiveness, he was free to
be joyous again

I am determined to accept responsibility for
everything in my life, for not loving grandma
for not offering care and gratitude when I was
small

When I was ten, I wrote out the Ten Command-
ments and realized I was going to hell because
I could not love my own family, much less my
enemies

Ever since my life has been a quest to find the
key to love and wisdom, studied books, read
the Bible several times, spiritual texts advising
us to accept our own involvement

In what transpires in our lives, found Sartre claimed
we should judge our actions by thinking what would
happen if everyone did the same, felt disheartened
as I accepted guilt for WWII

Changed my choices and actions, started listening
to my father’s tales, stopped blaming others, learnt
that my parents play roles to evoke certain reactions
the only way to deal with them is to stick to the facts

And to forgive them for acting like children, learning to
act like an adult who will not be exploited through
emotional manipulation – Thank you, Shantaram,
for teaching me to accept my own part
in causing pain
*

Lack In Conversation

*
Yesterday my twin complained people at work
treat her without respect, do not listen to her, I
explained it is because you do not treat them
respectfully yourself, she replied she did not
care for my argument

She does not accept responsibility for the effects
of her deeds, she will not change anything, she
wants to do everything in the same way and the
world around her must change, she insists upon
it, she says life is a defeatist game

She just wants to become an island, she wants
to contemplate fate casting her as a pawn, she
refuses to consider that anything that ever hap-
pens to her or mother or father is caused by
their own acts and behavior

By blaming others for everything, my sister allows
the emotional blackmail mom and dad use on her,
they control her by claiming to be dying and then
dances to any tune they dictate, like a puppet
on a string and she gets angry with me

For not doing the same, for trying to show her the
light of freedom and rational choice, for choosing
to behave in a way that others can respect, but
she says she is not interested in anything I say
that rather makes for a lack

In conversation, I think…
*

Tannie Yvonne DuPlessis

*
- Thank you Shantaram for showing me
that I can forgive unconditionally -

Tannie Yvonne asked me what’s wrong
grandma Alice is going blind I replied

Let’s play at being Robin Hood she advised
surgery for cataracts, take the deposit

To pay the costs, I collected to add to the sum,
grandma’s eye was operated on, hubby paid

The rest of the bill - grandma Alice never had a
medical fund, she put all she had into us kids

To help us live a life refined - I am delighted by
Tannie Yvonne’s gallant gesture to take care

Of someone I loved and did not honour in my youth
when there was war in our house and nobody knew

That grandma was serving penance for crimes she had
done when she stole to serve her son when he was young

Grandma loved too much, served in silence, except
to confess to my brother Ian, blighting his youth

Yet the lives of everyone were affected by the war in
our house, the secret of grandma’s indictment

No-one untouched, no-one unscathed…today I pay tribute
to grandma Alice who died unsung, the least I can do

Is let the people know, grandma is my heroine!

(I learnt the facts of my childhood within the last nine
years, the mystery of the war in which we grew up
unfolding slowly - following Shantaram’s example,
I absolve everybody involved in exploiting grandma,
accepting responsibility for the fact I never showed
grandma the love and care she deserved, but the
memory of her sacrifices will always be honoured
in my heart, she paid the price for dishonouring
the family name by giving her life)

Gregory David Roberts “Shantaram” Abacus 2004
*

Pretence Of Quiet Opulence

*
My positive book reiterates, choose anything
as your vision, my vision is to make a special
someone feel how much I appreciate all that
she did in my life

I love it that she paid for the warm beds and
blankest in which I slept and that she made,
I love it that she prepared the food we ate,
when I discovered

She had bought the ingredients with her own
money without ever telling anyone, I was
thrilled, I was always told she was an
interloper who Interfered in our lives

My mind was unhinged because I had seen
something else, when I learnt that she paid
for our pretence of living in quiet opulence
while doing the work behind the scenes

I loved the fact that I had a James Bond in my
life called Margaret Alice who paid all her money
to provide for us, I love it that she never told me
that the food that I ate, prepared by her

Had also been bought with her income, my pa-
rents could not provide on their own, but as-
sumed credit for everything, decrying
grandma for not doing enough

I fell for their subterfuge when I was small, but as
I grew older and grandma took care of me when
mom and dad did not as I grew weak, grandma
took over and saved my life

I got the idea that someone was telling lies, and it
was not grandma, it was not the one person who
was there as terror strangled its grip...
*

You Were A Star

*
Mother said ‘I would have raised my
own kids if grandma were not there’
Tempting fate, because grandma was
taken away, mother was left with my
dad, my eldest and youngest brothers,
the rest of us kids – all three of us, my
twin sister, Ian and I, accompanied
grandma to the farm of my uncle

But living together, before the farm, mother
left my youngest brother at church, did not
know he was gone, no looking for him; was
it grandma’s fault? – Thus, when we left with
grandma, offering mother a chance at mothering,
my eldest brother took the youngest to a night
function at school and LEFT HIM THERE –
mother did not care

She never even knew he was not at home,
never asked where he was, a kindly stranger
brought him home – but being afraid of our
backward world, left him to walk the dark lane
by himself – he was just nine years old, she
never asked where he had been – interesting,
a strange way to take over from grandma
after all her scathing remarks

If grandma were not there, we would have
been left to ourselves, heck knows what we
would have become, the most perfect example
of independent children who cooked and cleaned
for themselves, I can see why she blames grand-
ma for being there, we were spoiled far too much,
grandma worked too hard, that is her sin, remind
yourselves never to do so many things

It is bad when someone blames you for doing things
they would have done for themselves, well, they
never do it even when you are gone, but it is the
principle, I suppose; Thank you grandma,
you were a star!
*

Alien, Hostile Face

*
I am not myself today, I dislike
the stranger who took my place,
she distorts my features, makes
my skin look bad, she makes my
hair look ugly, my clothes become
all bad contours and unflattering
lines and my legs look awful

I feed her pills to make her go away
attempting to get back into my body
and make me look nice, but she stays,
she looks at my work and refuses to
start translating the words - will I be
forced into self-flagellation to force
my alter ego to leave

Snakes are writhing in my head, I am
sure my happy self must be in there
somewhere, as soon as pain abates
I want to live my own life, this is the
result of eating pizza and chemical
sauces and enjoying the good life
all weekend long

I hate the discipline my diet entails,
watching others consume colourful
dishes while I have to eat lean meat
and bland vegetables; then I join them
for awhile, but when I lose myself and
find an alien, hostile face staring at me
from an accusing mirror

I know the allergy has won again, I am
put in my place, my life was designed as
Cinderella serving, never staying on after
the ball, always turning into a zombie, I wish
I were a stable entity who could remain one
human being for a long period of time –
this changing face

And concomitant fatigue; the inability
to face my life, drives me nuts…
*

Thoughts Soaring Freely

*
Rocked up at work not feeling good
and read my guru’s prognostications:

“Let your dominant quest be pleasing
yourself, entertaining yourself, con-
necting with yourself, being yourself,
enjoying yourself, loving yourself

In a kind of inspired selfishness, if you
find your connection with life, you give
joy to everyone”

Compiled a work-on-hand list, wondering how
to combine “entertaining yourself” with
office life, then sent off my writings
and realised I enjoyed myself

Writing down and sharing my thoughts with
the brilliant, creative people out there,
is the most entertaining and pleasing
activity I have ever found

Self-flagellation as a way to get work done
works very well, but is not beautiful, good
or uplifting, I keep looking for a better way
to get through boring jobs

That stop my thoughts from
soaring freely…
*

Albertus Adriaan Van Wyk

*

I was driving hubby’s new car when my father said
“I have no respect for anything that belongs to me,
you are my child, I have no respect for you, and I
don’t respect your car”

So I said “This is hubby’s car” and my father said
“I respect your husband, and I respect this car if it
belongs to him” so I added, taking refuge in my
life “And I am hubby’s wife

And my kids belong to him also, we do not belong
to you” and my father reiterated that he respects
my husband - my father feels so tainted and bad,
so evil and objectionable, he believes

Everything that belongs to him is tainted by his pre-
sence, I understand why he feels this way since he
was rejected by his own mother and his wife re-
jected him also, she could not love the kids

Fathered by him, he never learnt respect or self-
esteem; though I fear mother’s strange accusa-
tions, I fear my father’s lack of respect even
more, I cannot be his child for his sake

So he can respect me, my father felt I was tainted
by being his child, never provided for my studying,
but my brother Ian Albertus (named after grandma
Alice’s husband, Albertus Adriaan van Wyk)

Who raised me, provided the money; he knew I read
the books he gave me, knew who I was, he made a
tree seat for me, showed me how to climb up,
taught me how to flee the turmoil at home

By climbing onto the roof of our house, he created
my imaginary friends, calling them “Veldmaats”
one I called Xenia, Ian provided money to go
to university, while my father did not

Provide for my studies, mother wanted her sons to
become missionaries, Ian opposed her and went
to the army, with his pay he sent me to realize
my dreams and came there himself

I do not worry when someone talks about chattel, by
belonging to someone I cut the bond with my father,
giving him a gift: Now he can respect me…
*

Margaret Alice Van Wyk née Puth

*
Mother says she needed therapy to forgive
grandma Alice for all that she did, I nodded
sagely, I could see what she meant, when I
was ill, grandma paid my savings account

When dad left and I was alone in mother’s
home, I went to grandma for meals and we
visited the library, when dad was ill grand-
ma nursed him till he was well

When I got a job, grandma came and took
care of me, washed and cleaned, prepared
meals, brought a radio and TV, when I had
a boyfriend, grandma was my chaperone

When hubby took over from grandma to
take care of me, she called him an angel,
thanked him profusely, mother suspicious
because he rejected her theories

I can see mother needed to forgive a lot,
when I was ill Mother had to leave me at
night for mission work, living her own life
following her own star

Blaming grandma for the fact that she married
dad and for not loving Mother’s five kids enough
Mother was too angry with dad to love them
herself, besides, Mother says

It was never enough, grandma stole to help my
uncle take care of his wife, Mother says grandma
Alice was bad and her legacy is indictment for sin
she cannot forgive Grandma

For being a martyr and slave when she should
have known nothing can redeem her in Mother’s
eyes, she should have done penance in another
way, not keep the household afloat

It was held against her also…
*

Love Untainted, Love Unconditional

*
On p. 927 Karla says “... because I don’t feel sorry
for any of it... I’m cold inside... I don’t love any of
them – not even myself – and I don’t really care
about them – and I don’t really wish that I did care.”

Karla read Madame Bovary and the Sufi Poets
she resembles Isabel in “Portrait of a Lady”, all
glamour and beauty and glittering intelligence
as Isabel was exploited by Madame Merle and
fostered onto Oswald, Karla was exploited by
Khaderbhai in the same way

Like Isabel Karla embraced cynicism, refusing to
be released from despair by innocence, accepting
role models found in literature, found no escape in
Sufi love poetry, just an acceptance of Allah’s will
she became much more lonely in having no
values and wanting none

It is a sad end for Karla, she refused to accept
responsibility for what she did wrong, blaming
others for what happened to her, became stuck
in a groove, just like Isabel did – but I refused,
after reading “Portrait” I sought answers and
found them in Don Quixote

Following his dictum to dream the impossible
dream, to chase the unreachable star, to love
pure and chaste from afar...

Shantaram was in the same boat, he was exploited,
his love repudiated, by Khaderbhai using him as a
pawn – expendable – in a game, even worse, he
was exploited by Karla, she never told him she was
pulling his strings like a puppet master – but he did
not sink into despair

Did not give up on values, did not take revenge
he did not hide his choice for forgiveness and
love behind a smoke screen, he fulfilled his
ideals by forgiving both Karla and Khaderbhai
applying the spiritual ideal that love should be
unconditional, without need

Love without expectation, without dreams, love
anchored in his own heart, he was a light unto
himself, he forgave totally, a new Don Quixote
triumphant who had fought the windmills of war,
crime and drugs, he gave up the fight to embrace
the light in the beauty of hope

Rejoiced in the freedom of accepting responsibility
for his own mistakes, saved by his code of invincible
integrity, he did everything for love of people, he never
served anything else, when Love was used to almost
kill him, he chose to remain loyal to the Ideal of Love
as Freedom and Goodness

He did not equate Love with the scarred people who
misused and defiled Her, he redeemed Love by for-
giving all the Lovers who had reduced Her to money
and exploitation, he lived an example that delights
my heart - I shall continue to love, pure and chaste
from afar, expecting nothing in return

Cherishing the joyous feeling of freedom, enjoying
the beauty of Love Untainted,
Love Unconditional


Gregory David Roberts “Shantaram” Abacus 2004
Quotes taken from p. 927
*

Purified Love

*
Khaderbhai was a fanatic with no respect
for freedom, he did not care that success
depends on respect for the freedom of
people to choose for themselves

Kharderbhai chose to serve the Afghan war
exploiting crime to finance it, hanging him-
self by his own words when he claims
he tests goodness by asking

What happens when what we do, is done by
everyone else: if exploitation is generalised
freedom and trust will be lost in suspicion -
he fails his own test

Doing wrong for the right reasons is self-de-
feating, means always becomes the end
helping the Afghans through crime and
drugs increases the suffering

Karla and Shantaram suffered the consequences
of exploitation - Karla realized she was exploited
by Khaderbhai while she was exploiting others -
and surrendered to despair

Shantaram realized that his freedom was destroyed
by Karla and Khaderbhai’s connivance, their love for
him was a ruse to deceive and use him (because
he used others, they could use him)

Shantaram is saved by choosing to forgive them for
their provisional friendship and tainted love, knowing
treason cannot diminish his feeling of freedom
and self-esteem

Purified love allows betrayal to strip childish ideals and
romance away - he absolves them, refusing to hate
anyone for being unworthy of trust and devotion,
free from the curse of cynicism

Accepting their choice to have no respect for love and
life, his heart free from bitterness, his mind undefiled,
honouring their freedom to be mercenary in their
using him for their own ends

Without revenge or responding in kind...

Gregory David Roberts “Shantaram” Abacus 2004
*

Shantaram Unstoppable

*
Finished reading Shantaram, enjoyed the
general attitude to live life as it comes, sad
about Karla giving up on love and hope

Delighted by the author’s grip on life, intrigued
by what transpires when living without discipline
on a quest to find happiness

In adventure, money and drugs, his strong sense
of meaning inspires him to survive, his deep feelings
find expression in exotic lyrics

He forms loyal relationships and falls in love easily,
his sense of wonderment gives rise to romance,
though it never lasts like love

I admire his intelligence and the way he adores the life
force in people, his conviction that life is justified and
should be promoted, I respect the life he described

Fascinated to see what happens when so many people
chase happiness without guidelines, seeking fulfilment
in money, freedom and power

Only some have an inner vision and can stay the course
they set for themselves, very few have the insight and
drive to seek an ideal

While the author forges ahead, discussing rational
cosmology while fighting for his life, unstoppable
like an element of nature himself!

Gregory David Roberts “Shantaram” Abacus 2004
*

Grandma Margaret Alice

*
Mother says Grandma Alice was bad, I asked
why – ‘She pushed me out’ mother said ‘She
took over my home, prepared meals, did
domestic chores

‘Made your clothes, earned money driving kids,
sold school-wear, used her pension to buy food,
ironed everything, changed sheets
every week

‘Complained when you kids were bad, never
hit you herself; planted flowers, people stopped
to admire the sight, baked bread and cake and
made jam

Drove a truck on your uncle’s farm’ - Yes, I can
see, Grandma Alice was very bad to work so
hard, and I asked ‘Where were you, mother,
while all this was going on?

‘Oh, I was ill, disillusioned, fatigued, played piano,
organist in church, working in an office” - I nodded,
yes, grandma Alice was very bad to take care of
mother’s kids

I remember when we moved away with grandma, we
returned to find mother’s house in disarray, piano
packed away, grandma marshalled us to clean
the floors, dust, arrange the house

We stayed on when grandma left, mother did not
take charge, grandma returned, I can see that
was bad - I remember mother’s flat,
grandma came

Once a week to clean, wash and iron, grandma was
bad indeed, I remember grandma died, an act of
treason, mother sold dad’s house, spent the
money travelling

Dad bankrupt, she sold his furniture, dad worked on
a farm to earn his keep, got sacked, a homeless man,
all grandma’s fault, of course, today my sister
takes care of mom and dad

Yes, grandma’s fault, she spoiled mother, a servant
does the housework just as grandma used to, mother
still complains ‘If I had not been pushed away, I
would have raised my own kids’

‘Been a domestic, if only grandma had not been’
when grandma died, mother never filled her
place, that is grandma Alice’s biggest fault,
I suppose, leaving a space too big...
*

My Changing Story

*
Celebrated new shining ideas and happiness in
my changing life story by eating in a restaurant
although the new-found insight keeps me safe
from anxiety when pain clamps down on my
mind, my thoughts are scattering

Swelling and pressure in my head impedes capacity
for rational argument and setting priorities, though
content in my misery, it is a miserable experience
I had hoped that quiet acceptance of the world
as is would lift the allergy

Yet such is not the case, my guess is it still fulfils a
purpose, I should align with it, eschew French fries
and sausages – I sigh, so little I can eat without
consequences making it impossible to carry on
my trivial duties, the result is

I start dabbling with prosody and limericks, practice
conjuring visions of a new reality in which I can eat
anything and remain symptom-free, my eyelids are
growing heavy, neck stiffening, life becomes boring
forcing me to start looking for

Excitement and adventure, fantasy and spiritual truth
to break free from physical reality, the allergy cripples
me, I cannot start activity, I wish it were psychosomatic
complaint that goes away with age, but no, it is just as
debilitating as before

Physical illness entails more than fear for dark deeds of
yesteryear, frustration and boredom stop me from com-
pleting long-term jobs and start short-term duties, I am
still looking for a satisfactory reason for my suffering,
spiritual gurus say it is self-chosen

It implies that I am a masochist, enjoying misery as much
as Pratchett’s Discworld characters, as long as I can keep
reading, I’ll survive the depression engendered by inability
to execute routine jobs with competence, I suppose this
keeps me writing

Whereas all my fellow-soldiers in the trenches created by
criminal bureaucracy and strangling regulations are happy
and content to do repetitive jobs, I might have been as
complacent as they seem to be if I could remain tethered
to administrative reality…
*

Ian and Steenberg

*
An old friend of my brother, he was
allowed into the inner sanctuary, I
would never allow any friends in to
see the shame of what was

I’m older now, nightmares are done,
older ghosts come knocking here, I
am not allowed to look at darkness
in the past, my new guardian

Fear those who never knew I was there,
no-one cared, all caught up fighting for
existence, quite oblivious to anyone
who did not hold a club

Yet I must look back again just to know
what was going on, make my peace, say
goodbye, leave the fear behind, find my
brother, find him back, hold his hand

Find the joy that should be ours; I want to
fight the campaign to reinstate Margaret
Alice grandmother par excellence
in her place...
*

Prism-Pressed And Perfumed

*
I'm mesmerised and fairy lights you sent to
shine in darkness of a cave wherein I miss the
sun are lighting up my life... do not delay, you'll
never be a grievous poet anyway - to bring so
much delight and lead me from this darkness
says the same - you will receive the light and
happiness yourself is what my visions say!

Lovely reading lines delineating what you
meant, not riddled flows suppressed but
focused, prism-pressed and perfumed true,
beautiful, incandescent, pure – wonderful
the faeries saved by you who strove to
make them real for me, you knew how
much I needed them, a selfless sacrifice

Allow yourself a vision lighting darkness
overwhelmed in which I need some grains
of pixie dust to cast in rays which you directly
know but I can only dream about – and yet
you sent the guiding light to me, thank you!
*

Kills Free Human Spirit

*
Shantaram is fascinating, the author’s
unshakeable integrity, the beauty of good
intentions, Khaderbai’s insistence on finding
a universal moral perspective for humanity

Because nature shows a tendency to foster
life, it should be the foundation for a rational
ethics, yet the main thing for me is freedom
which can only thrive on respect

Humans love enough and then too much, but
we lack wisdom, we have never been taught
how good we are when given freedom to be
ourselves, civilisation is life-defeating

It kills the free human spirit upon birth…
*

Today I Lost

*
Losing the battle against pain
fatigue stops another attempt to
seek redress, the potato dish is
taking effect

A dish prepared with so much love
by hubby - yet it makes me ill, love
never guarantees success, wisdom
is needed

To keep us safe, a balance between
what we need and what we desire can
make life almost unbearable, I need
plain food

But desire culinary delights, wish to
placate his insistence to cook in an
inspired way, blocking innovation
with symptoms

Makes him sad, frustration with constraints
makes him angry, balance between feeling
well and suffering requires strict weighing
of interests

Today I lost, tomorrow - the game
begins again…
*

Truth Prism

*
Early morning at home, looking for pictures
to paste in my book, beautiful things to make
me smile as the day unfolds

Thinking of Hermien preparing therapeutic stuff
for her wards before she leaves from home, she
works hard free from existential fears

Reads Scarpetta novels and plays Suduku –
everything I don’t do – I seek fuel to fill my heart
with joy and laughter before playing a role

A government official stuck at my desk, faced with
emotional death, feeding my feelings to keep from
falling into the abyss, never sure where I am

In metaphysical reality, convinced that ontology
is a game to entertain only, the truth of every
statement determined by the prism

Of the individual human mind…
*

Thank You Michelle!

*
I tried to compose a poem about the
wonder of it all, Unseen Academicals
was overpoweringly good, I love his
satirizing celebrities describing their
favourite spoon

The explanation of the rules of the game
called foot-the-ball, I love Mustrum Ridcully
and his good humour even more than before
I find Ponder Stibbons terribly pedantic and
self-righteous

I love the Department for Afterlife Studies i.e.
Necromancy, I love professor Hix and his duty
of being evil, I like it that Juliet shines and floated
into the air, I love six-foot iron heels and troll clubs
with flowers on them

In short, I love EVERYTHING Terry Pratchett
put in there!

I marvel at his depiction of love poetry and the desired effect
in the swain’s absence, being the precondition for it to work
I love Glenda’s analysis of romantic novels and her clever
application thereof and how she laughed at the wizards
and their pretensions

But most of all, my FAVOURITE favourite is the dramatic
Uberwald quotes recited by Nutt and his self-analysis in
Jungian style is hilarious –

The more Pratchett satirizes the absurd claim of knowledge
of the subject psychology which is schizophrenic as we all
know; the more he points out how little we know!

Thank you for entrusting your treasured book to me,
I shall cherish my copious notes and
reread with glee

Warmest regards, M.

Terry Pratchett “Unseen Academicals”
*

The Only Necessary Truth

*

“That which works for the individual is
the only truth necessary to
function in Life.”

I assume everything is potentially true
we create truth by realizing a possibility
by taking potential and fulfilling it
through dedication.

I believe all truth is self-created, that is
why it is imperfect, open to use and abuse
and we are free to improve upon it
indefinitely, eternally and infinitely.

Reality is an illusion created through inter-
subjective consensus - only human consensus
determines what we call “truth”.

We are free to assign meaning to life, decide
what that meaning should be, or leave life
without meaning – a question of choice.

Life is as neutral as any object in life, a knife,
a pen, a gun, a theory; we are free to assign
meaning and use it to benefit or harm life.

Nothing, not even reality or the universe, comes
pre-packaged with meaning, we decide what
meaning to assign to it.

The origin of all beauty is in YOU, in your MIND
whoever has a different opinion cannot be
convinced by any argument of objective
reality or the ontological status of
assumptions, that you are more
right than they are.

I appreciate a beautiful viewpoint and make the
harmonious, loving aspects true in my life, simply
because I am attracted by personality and taste
to it, not because it is ontologically more true than
negative, cynical, despondent, material, religious
or spiritual viewpoints.

The only criterion the individual uses to determine
truth for her/himself is utility – what they can do
with the truth, and pragmatic considerations,
how much easier or happier or better
application of the truth
makes their lives.

I find applying a loving viewpoint works beautifully
makes me happy and brings success, therefore
I agree with a spiritual philosophy and
structure my life along these lines.

But I know this philosophy is ontologically not more
justified or more true than any other –
NOTHING can provide proof
of that nature.

*

Serve The Privileged

*
Self-righteous people dream luxuries
insist on pension increases, oblivious to
underprivileged needs

self-centred people assert the President
satisfy desire for more provisions
clamour for more than there is

unconcerned that the unemployed
survive through crime, illegal needs
and dreams, condemned to go without

rich demand more benefits – how can
I presume to relay trite, self-centred
requests of the replete

underprivileged cannot eat, nowhere
to sleep - yet affluent complain they cannot
travel, need medicine as they grow weak

I cannot force myself to serve privileged
greed while homeless starve, people
live in opulence ignoring the plight

Of the slums...
*

We Are Wonderful

*
“The attempt to stamp out our identity
was our real downfall, the contents of
our thoughts are broadcast openly”

Free expression is my goal, joy is best
attained in happy mood, free from raw
constraints’ reality, mind immersed in
heart to free feelings suppressed by
exigency, satisfying desires to find
meaning in deadly routines

A vision of an alternative reality in which
the mind is free, in which we do not need
drugs to escape the criminal regulations
of the structures of civilisation; where our
natural integrity shines visibly, where the
contents of our thoughts

Are broadcast openly, based on the liberation
of our instincts for the first time in this material
universe, humanity freed from all repressive
measures, discovering we are wonderful
our natural proclivities are beautiful, the
attempt to stamp out our identity

Was our real downfall!
*

Shantaram Man Of Peace 1-404

*
“...the systems created by civilization is the villain,
laws create criminals by outlawing fulfilment
of human needs - except for the rich...”

[pp. 270-404]

Reached p. 404, juxtaposition between love –
which always kills romance - and imprisonment
of the man called Lin, the author, he receives
a beating

I can look back with him, but in case of pain in
present tense, I can’t go on; the only pain I can
contemplate is my own, when another one
is suffering

It becomes too much – the woman he loves sud-
denly losing him, I can’t stand the feeling,
Lin Shantaram, Man Of Peace, author
of so many good deeds

Beat by police on page 404 – I can’t go on,
stopped to cry until I’m calm enough to be-
gin again, it hurts too much, give pain to
me in retrospect

NEVER use the present tense!

***********************

[p. 83 – 370]

Reading in a mad, glutinous way, the author
a philosopher-poet, I can digest everything
I detest because he presents every event
within a perspective of enlightened com-
passion, an empathy and loving instinct
stronger than the suffering life forced
on him

Describing a painful life journey from the
vantage point of victory and the magic of
courage and wonderment, celebrating the
sensual beauty of life compared to cynical
opportunism and the dilemma of making
choices, taking action, in a corrupt and
immoral world

Without principles except survival and expe-
diency, without help or guarantees, following
his heart, raw, hurt, loathing himself, yet his
actions were perfect, even though he and
everyone else was cynical and tough,
seeking escape

His honest bumbling did so much good, the
systems created by civilization is the villain,
laws create criminals by outlawing fulfilment
of human needs - except for the rich...

*****************************

[p.35-82]

This is a song I can listen to
this is a voice that presents
the depravity of the world
suffused in a soft golden
light of understanding

This is a stream of conscious-
ness that reverberates with
love and insight, that perceives
the beauty enclosed within
suffering and filth

That extracts jewels from apparent
ugliness and highlights the deeper
meaning of gory scenes, the author’s
beautiful mind presents the truth we
are helpless to change

In such an endearing way that the cost
of knowing is willingly paid by the reader,
his soft eye sees the miracle and wonder
within the ostensibly corrupt and dishonest
system and relays the whole spectacle

With a sweetness that soothes the sting of
knowing before the pain really starts, he
cushions the fall into reality by the soft
touch of an affection for humankind

All its ruses for survival, all its attempts
at spreading goodness, and I love it...

************************

[On starting the book, pp. 3-35]

Reading Shantaram, I am impressed,
he introduces his tale by realising he
is free while being tortured, freedom
represents a whole universe

His eyes zoom in on the happiness of
people living in slums, women ethereal,
his mind fastens on the wide, radiant
smile of a Bombay guide

He finds in him a marvellous friend, he
trusts the hotel owner on instinct, be-
comes a trusted companion, he sees
the attractive, inviolable aura

Of a beautiful woman, loves her on sight,
recalls Sanskrit legends about a destined
karmic connection, souls enraptured,
loving every thought of the other

Legends also warn fated love may be the
obsession of only one of twinned souls, he
describes a love affair with the city of Bom-
bay – the delight that sings in his feelings

Enchanting my mind!

Gregory David Roberts “Shantaram” Abacus 2004
pp. 1-404
*

Own Heroic Mission

*
Moved on, another phrase to contemplate:
“If receiving is your aim, you will be living
a life of constant deficiency” - wondering
whether it also applies to receiving stories

If I start pouring stories into the emotional
stream, would that mean finding my own
heroic mission, would I be giving my life
to others - serving in a Kalkutta hospital

as sister Theresa did, does not come na-
turally to me, my three-night stint in
the septic ward of a city hospital was a
big disaster, I pricked my head

with the hatpins used to affix the head-
gear so blood streamed down my face,
working in an old-age home when I was
sixteen did not invite future investment

wiping bottoms for the incontinent made
me draw up a living testament, never to
live if I cannot be independent; trying
mission work left me despondent

Social work amongst the poor instead of
telling them jokes or singing to them, did
not work out; so here I am - stuck with a
miserable document…
*

Stories Unfolding

*
My latest meditation on the inapplicable
recommendation of a spiritual teacher who
believes love can fix anything – oh how wrong
he has been - suspicious and doubtful in the extreme,
undercover poet, licensed to drink, but, alas, not to think

Chained to a boring text, my positive
book does not offer a recipe for success,
reading that ‘Giving love with no expectations,
without conditions, you will feel full, not empty,
blissful, not miserable’ does not help

The text is not lovable, the font is small, the
message boring, no interesting ideas, I am not
like Vetinari who reads music notes for a treat
instead of listening to the music - I prefer
sounds to printed symbols

Have to conjure a vision, but nothing prepared today
as soon as my mind is floating on an inner dream, I
can deal with the time thieves using boring official
messages to stifle innovation in the spirit of
assembly line standardization

I can only work mechanically when listening to
stories unfolding in my head, characters giving
love, feeling blissful, if I can conjure Wall.E
meeting Eva to lift my mind away from the
confining dimensions of visible reality

I shall be on my way…

*
References:

Terry Prachett, the Patrician Lord Vetinari
Time Thieves – Michael Ende ‘Momo'
The movie Wall.E
*

Sugary Things & Doleful Soul

*
I know how to survive anxiety
that knots in my stomach, eat
a chocolate for quick release
of energy to help me breathe

Insulin upsurge balanced with
a sweet drink, concentrate on
work at hand, no metaphysics
ignoring ontology

Start repetitive action, let my brain
relax into the rhythm, focus on the
joy of eating sweet sugary things
delightful immediacy - although

Reality does not present evidence
of good intent, it does not threaten
at all, therefore I assume all is well
even though my heart

Is heavy in my breast…


My Doleful Soul

Marvelous, in the jittery phase of over-insulin
at least physical symptoms are more interesting
than sitting like a statue registering nothing -
feeding myself peanuts with jerky movements
another chocolate or sweet juice and I might
pass out, that is always fun

That one has to go to such lengths to lighten
boring life with exciting events, I really should
look for a more adventurous job, riding the lift
with harassing security guards and singing
songs on the stairwell is no way to live a
glamorous life, no wonder

The naughty James Bond girl refuses to come
to work with me, sitting like a prisoner, immobile,
my head tired of doing all the traveling while my
body is held in the stocks by super-boring docu-
ments, spirit to be enthralled by fantasies, or
it runs away saddening my doleful soul…
*
Eyes out of focus, another exciting sugar
effect, ears ringing, at least all these physical
symptoms make it clear I’m alive and not yet
one of the living dead, without these bodily
upsets informing my mind there is a body
attached to it

I would not have known that I was a human
being, sitting catatonic I might have thought I
am a spirit, the figment of a soul - yet, why
should I live in suspended animation, why
do I experience continual alienation

Why can’t I lead a common sense existence
doing logical things and having rational
conversations, why do I always feel
the world is too small and that I
cannot be at home on earth,
could it mean time was
wrong

For my birth?
*

Idiot Idealists

*
I am washed out, wrung out in the
machinations of changing my mind
into a laser beam for dissecting a
threatening text compiled by the
Karl Marx of the 21st century

Promising to unleash murder and may-
hem on humanity unless his ideas on
monetary reforms, freely available at
his Internet site, are applied, with a
billion dollar furnished mansion

to entertain potential investors in
magnificent style, if the Presidents
want him to stop his threats they
must pay him an astronomic bribe–
I am flabbergasted

Will idiot idealists never learn
all superficial reforms
always end in
disaster?
*

We Are Monitored

*
Alet and I discussed the fact
we are monitored by computer
and on camera, Godzilla Firefox
lamenting we forget the camera’s
eye upon us when we turn our back

We do things the watchers would
not want to see, lift away irksome
clothing, digging in a recalcitrant
nose; concluding it’s just retribution
for those who leave us no privacy

to see such gory scenes, I am
always greeted Hallo Margaret
when I Google or Yahoo – how
did the pestilences know it was
me and how should I win back

my privacy; cannot look at weird
esoteric sites, The Eye of Thoth
and all-new universal religions,
without the rational world
smirking at me!
*

Confident Heart

*
There is a world of magic out there
and I am sitting here with no magic
in my vicinity, imprisoned, as good
as buried while still alive, no song in
my heart, no dream between the
visible world and me

All I can see are documents, meaning-
less, no hope in anything, feeling this
miserable, crying surreptitiously, I will
erect a bulwark to protect me from this
feeling, start from scratch, my fortress
down, breastplate lost

Compass spinning, gyroscope swinging
wildly - but I know I shall overcome the
desolation in my mind, I have done it be-
fore, it takes some time, slow everything
down until time and place disappear, wait
to reach the centre of the inky blackness

Waiting there till prescience provide
luminescence and the vision needed to
guide my feet, no more crying, no more
fearing the godforsaken blackness of
despair, finding peace in trust, knowing
visions shall return when summoned

With a heart full of
confidence!
*

Like A Fiend

*
I am looking for the self-confidence
and trust I lost when the dream stopped
eyes confined to sensory reality, I cannot
breathe, there is no space for me, nauseous
with fear I am sitting here

The image of this world will suffocate me,
I decide to evacuate my body, I cannot stay
here, head contracting in pain, I shall serve
as required, but my visions will make my
arms strong, protect my thoughts

Provide the oxygen, be the sweet nectar
that fills my heart with joy I need to smile,
without a happy idea time imprisons me
in an empty, dark place, once the vision
is in place, I shall work like a fiend!
*

Too Upsetting For Words

*
Translating the script of a James
Bond movie, a delusionary character’s
plot to upset the global economy, the
President must provide him with funds

A mansion with swimming pool and the
ear of the media, he forgot to mention the
beautiful girls, he wants to organise world-
wide demonstrations in aid of his plans

Where is Broccoli when we need him, this
script is atrocious but might work for aught
I know, but please, put the mad author out
of his misery or release me first

Such effrontery is too upsetting
for words!
*

Answer ‘Afterlife Experiments’ No

*In ‘The Afterlife Experiments’ Gary Schwartz
surmises evidence that life and love is eternal
would change humankind – I have news for
him, knowing something does not change
anything, only deciding what to do with new
information determines what humans become

Humankind has reacted in the same way to
changing beliefs during all the ages, people’s
minds look for an opportunity to cash in on
any belief, make use of any ‘truth’ to make
money and enjoy life, seeking fun or feeling
better all the time – a belief in life after death

Based on experiments will only create more
opportunity for enterprising humans to part
gullible people from their money, politicians
will use new-fangled religions to govern
people like sheep; dabbling with anything
beyond the reach of the senses

Is a brilliant mechanism for misuse, if we
cannot use our senses to test it, personal
experience should remain subjective,
limited to the individual who was lucky
enough to experience epiphany, if not
the non-sensory becomes a yoke

People forced by threatening visions of
eternal life, yet unable to love – as most
of us are – to try and get along with others
will not love more, living in love is a per-
sonal choice, does not include trust; only
an idiot would trust humans en masse

With custody of valuable feelings, life is
a sensory experience to be engaged in
freely, allowing that 75% of what we see
will never appeal to us, but not worrying
about it as we enjoy the 25% that
appeals to us individually!

*
Gary Schwartz ‘The Afterlife Experiments’ Atria
Books, 2002, Preface p. XV – The answer to the
questions posed is an unequivocal NO. I enjoy
reading about the experiments, but belief in
them changes nothing.
*

Primitive Emotion, Irrational Devotion

*

A financial letter to translate, can’t concentrate, to
focus my wandering mind I looked at the account
of a savage young man faithful to his love

His wonderful girl at the third telegraph pole, waiting
as he instructed her to - she’s dead, died in a fire,
but he savagely said

She must wait for him when he left for the army
when he returned her spirit informed him she had
never been unfaithful, could not help dying

Asked for permission to leave; he replied ‘Wait
until I finished my life service’ - she would not
escape from him - and she smiled

He still greets her at the telegraph pole every evening
I cry every time I read it, beautiful pain and mystery
of irrational devotion to love

Such bravado, gallantry, integrity, loyalty to her
limpid eyes clear as water; such utter sadness,
such noble beauty in primitive emotion

What an introduction to The Little World of Don
Camillo, my heart is putty in the hands of
an author like Guareschi!

Giovanni Guareschi ‘The Little World of Don Camillo’
Reprint Society, Victor Gollancz, 1853
‘Third Story’ p. 32-41

*