One last thought.

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Before sleep spins me into unconsciousness, before dreams tangle my hair andĀ  twist my body. Before dark night closes in on me. One last thought. We need more kindness and care. We need to look after the poorest and those with the least resources. We need to see this world as a whole, not in parts. Why should luck determine where we are in the world. Why are people so selfish and unkind?

Dreams could be made real if we cared. Damage to life and the environment is our choice. With climate change we need to change our perspectives. I think we should all consider the future and work to make a better planet. Perhaps then we can all sleep a bit more peacefully in our beds if we have them. At least I hope so and that equality is our future goal. I know I’m naive but I still can dream.

The eyes have it

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Put a picture of an eye or eyes up on a wall or building and crime drops. People are apparently influenced by an image of an eye. Perhaps that is why the story the handmaid’s tale uses the phrase “under his eye” as part of its narrative.

Eyes are all seeing, interrogative, piercing, but also are described as honest, kind, thoughtful, gentle.

Eyes are the windows of the soul. The look of longing, watching, friendship. Caring eyes. Intelligent eyes. So many descriptions. Your eyes weep, cry, shed tears.

Eyes linger on a sunset, watch the television, look back in anger. Using your eyes to see. Recognise your friends and family……

Dont let your eyes darken, grow clouded, become opaque with cataracts. Blink away tears.

Glance at the sky, watch a bird in flight, look at your watch, wear mascara. Stare at the world. Close your eyes, and, sleep.

What is in my head?

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There’s a lump of stuff like blancmange or jelly inside my head, your head, and anyone who has lived on the planet.

This soggy lump controls your life, your heart, your breathing, movement, and other functions.

It also helps control the world, either personally or by electing or following what other brains think. No telepathy exists, so we only know what a brain is thinking by communication on TV, with books, in newspapers, social media and miriad ways of talking.

My pink jelly brain is mostly water. It’s surrounded by layers of protection to stop it being damaged. The pia mater and dura mater are two of these layers. It’s split into a hind brain, the most primitive part, the mid brain and two halves split between the right and left hemispheres that make up the main part of the brain. It is supplied by a ring of arteries and veins and oxygen and fluid pass from these into the brain through the blood brain barrier. Veins take away waste products back to the heart and lungs and lymphatic system.

Your brain is a tangle of synapses and neurones, nerve cells that use electrical signals to make your body move, allow you to see, talk, feel, eat. Control subconscious activities, control your organs and muscles (although research has shown that the gastric system including the stomach has its own system of nerves equivalent to the brain capacity of a rabbit).

Brains are weird. The left side of your brain controls the right side of your head and body, and vice versa. By the time you notice something has happened, it’s too late to do anything so your brain has to be able to react or predict what is happening before you even realise it.

This pinkish yellowish lump has taken us under the sea or to the top of everest. It has allowed us to go to the Moon, send probes to Mars and the planets and explore the universe with immense telescopes. It has also let us build microscopes to see microbes and even Atoms. It has even given us the skills to build machines to see inside our own brains!

Pink blobs rule! Let us just hope that people start to use them to try and bring peace and sense to the world.

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Talking

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The world is full of words

Talk is cheap

Grey green gold gossip

Muddy, murky muttering

Sharp staccato shouting.

Pink pretty pouting purring,

Cracked cramped cackles.

Light lilting, laughing lullabies…

Singing or sonorous sound scapes

Violent verbosity

Quiet qualities of queen’s English.

Extravagant evangelising.

Whispered wailing.

Yes words are cheap and cheerful or cheerless.

 

Candle light

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The candle flickered and guttered as the front door opened. Jim entered the room with a flurry of snow. The cold air made a hole in the warmth.

‘You OK’ he asked? ‘Yes just about’ , said Sarah. ‘I kept the wood stove burning all day, but the power went out half an hour ago so I lit a candle ‘.

The weather had been mad since the 20’s. Global temperatures had continued to increase, but this winter had been wild. Snow had fallen for three months now. Sometimes they managed to get out to the shops, but they had to walk down the hill over the fields because the lane was full up with snow. It was one of those deep lanes which had been worn away over the centuries. The land around it was about 6 foot higher. In this snow it was impossible to get along because of the drifts.

‘So how many tablets have you got left?’ asked Jim. ‘Five’ she said. ‘I will have to get down to the village soon’ he thought for a second. ‘What about the weather?’

‘I heard the report before the power went off – bad for two days, then it might break?’

Jim looked at his wife, pale and thin. She was shivering with cold. ‘I’ll fetch you a blanket’ .

Later as they lay on a mattress infront of the wood burner, he looked at the ceiling and watched the last glimmers of the candle. He listened to her uneven breathing, a harsh rattle sometimes breaking into the rhythm of sleeping breath. ‘ Oh lord ‘ he thought, ‘let the snow stop, let me get her medicine, let things get better’ .

Three weeks later as the snow turned to rain, and the land flooded, the local police came looking for them. Inside the living room they found their bodies..

A note was on the table under a burnt down candle. ‘I can’t live without her’ was the simple message he had left.

Interacting online

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I’m feeling a bit down at the moment. A person I have spoken to on line has become annoyed by some of my posts. I understand why, because my thoughts are in opposition to hers, and I have probably pushed my opinion too much.

The problem is when you write something on line you have to be so careful, if you have a face to face conversation, or even a phone chat, you can hear the nuances in their voice or see the expression on their face, clearly you can’t do that in an online discussion.

What to do? I’ve apologised and said I won’t comment again. I feel it’s a shame because you should be able to have an open discussion about opinions. But nowadays things seem to escalate to arguments. When did life become so difficult? I think the problem is the Internet encourages differences of opinion, “us and them”.

I wish I had never said anything, but I don’t feel I should just agree with everything if I can see another side to the argument.

Sadly in this case I think my only option is to keep quiet and not say anything again. Plus profuse apologies.

Meandering

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I sometimes start a blog on one theme and for some reason meander off in a completely different direction. Like a river meanders randomly, curving one way then the other.

Curving frequently, tributaries joining,

Increasing the flow, sinuous,

Like a snake, swallowing its own tail,

In places becoming, formingĀ  through sediment,

A famed oxbow lake, a tiny part of the whole, trapped and landlocked.

When it reaches the sea all its strength is dissipated.

Numerous streams wander a delta down to the water.

Seagulls trim their wings

And fly fiercely overhead.

My story meanders again,

As a gull steals my chips ……

I started at point A, wove around and ended at point B. Strange how like a journey we can be transported by words, drift along into a story or a song… .