C.G.Ayling

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  • Mother’s Day, is Every Day.

    Julia recently returned from her Middle School trip to Washington, DC. During her time away, she composed this poem. Pay special attention to the first letter of each line. I think each line describes Julia, as she sees herself.

    There once was a girl.
    How did she grow to be so strong?
    Every thing she saw, she saw with love.

    Maybe it was something in the water.
    Or maybe it was something different something strong.
    This girl was like nothing else anyone had ever seen.
    Her eyes were that of an old soul.
    Every thing she loved grew strong.
    Roses bloomed at her touch.

    Where did she learn all of these things?
    How did she obtain this power?
    Outlandish is what she was

    Loving was in her nature.
    On the ground she could fly.
    Valor is what she wishes for.
    Even though others think her to be odd.
    She could smile through hell and back.

    Her health may be poor sometimes.
    Earnings may be low.
    Reminisce she will when the world has her down.

    Danger is no longer a fear.
    Adventure is what she searches for.
    Unable she will never be.
    Grateful for all she is.
    Her life could never be better.
    There’s more to say.
    Every chance she gets she will say I love you.
    Ready as I’ll ever be I give you this poem.

    I was able to do everything I have up to now because of the mother who loves her daughter.

    To my loving mum,
    from Julia.

  • A daughter’s “warmth”.

    Today, is my birthday – which is good news for someone with a memory like mine. You see, yesterday was my Godfather’s birthday – which means it’s pretty easy for me to remember mine!

    Anyway my youngest daughter, Julia, has been away on her class trip to Washington DC. She returned this morning, however I never saw her until lunchtime, when she dragged me down the stairs to reveal another little note, along with a duck feather on my desk – presumably to be used as a writing implement. I faithfully transcribe her note, below.

    Dear father,

    I didn’t know what to give you, I couldn’t find the right words for a poem so I will give you this instead.

    Age is but a number, as is time only a placeholder. When you don’t think about the time is it really there? I have to say If you don’t think about age you can live forever. Not in reality but you will be remembered for living like you can never die…

    I know I will die one day but not before you old man, see you in the fire.

    Yes, she does have a certain way with words – I think I’ll keep her, for now…

    PS. In celebration of my Godfather’s birthday, my first novel “Beltamar’s War” is FREE on Amazon for May 23rd, and 24th. This offer should be available globally, simply head on over to your nearest Amazon and do a search for “Beltamar’s War”.  Please snag a copy for yourself, and tell any friends, too.

    Consider it my gift, to you. Your gift, to me, will be to read it, and weep {I mean that in a good way.}

    For your inconvenience, the USA and UK links appear below.
    For readers in the USA, click here.
    Readers in the UK, click here.

  • Julia’s essay to her dad.

    My much loved youngest daughter Julia casually left a note on my desk last night.  She never told me what it was, and placed it on a pile of other papers without even saying she did.  Although I noticed it last night, it didn’t register and thus I only got around to reading it this morning.  It is so special I thought I’d share it with you.

    As any can see, Julia writes with a poetic cadence, so allow a proud father poetic liberty to transform her words into poetic form.

    ~

    thank you father

    to my father I owe many things,
    from this man I have gained roots and wing
    I can now stand on my own
    like the mighty oke I have follow shadowed.
    Thank you father for holding me high anoth to see the word
    but not to shadow me from it.
    With the roots I hold myself
    and with these wings I wrap myself and other
    to protect me from the flams of the hell of life
    and to myself I always sing:
    my father gave me roots and gave me wing,
    now I must learn to fly without leaving the ground.
    Show the world that I know how.

    ~

    The text below, is how it arrived with apparent errors intact.
    ~
    thank you father
    to my father I owe many things, from this man I have gained roots and wing I can now stand on my own like the mighty oke I have follow shadowed. Thank you father for holding me high anoth to see the word but not to shadow me from it. With the roots I hold myself and with these wings I wrap myself and other to protect me from the flams of the hell of life and to myself I always sing: my father gave me roots and gave me wing, now I must learn to fly without leaving the ground. Show the world that I know how.
    ~

    Due to the method the blog presents text minor formatting changes will occur, so to keep it true I’ll post a picture of the actual note below – exactly as I received it.

    A poetic essay, casually cast upon my table, without a word, and many a distracting deed...
    A poetic essay, casually cast upon my table, without a word, and many a distracting deed…

    {you can find more about my gem, Julia here.}

  • Little absences.

    My twitter followers may have noticed I’ve been gone for a couple of days. The reason is that I needed to clean up an infection on my website by a nasty little rascal called the “Pharma Hack”. What this misguided piece of malware does, is inject hidden information into pages and posts that contain links back to websites selling various drugs – thus the name “Pharma”.

    The information is hidden from website visitors and serves the nefarious purpose of “Search Engine Optimization”. In the past, search engines such as Google ranked websites higher the more sites that linked to them. Therefore, by embedding links into pages these cheaters are attempting to increase the ranking of disreputable websites. Reputable search engines are well aware of this “trick” and now either disregard hidden links, or penalize websites for including them or being linked by them.

    As I have no desire for people in desperate need of {how to put this delicately…} “hardening” drugs visiting my site, I don’t mind being penalized. You know the variety I mean, those alchemical marvels that transform certain body parts into hardened steel {if the transmutation lasts longer than four hours, call your doctor…}!

    And now, to the title of the post. I discovered my site had been “hacked” thanks only to the efforts of an amazing person that many on Twitter know as @TwitCleaner – a now defunct product written by a real life human being named Si Dawson. Si responded to a tweet I made offering him free copies of my works, as I’m financially unable to make cash donations {if you’re able to, please visit his website – there’s a “contribute” button over on the right}. In taking me up on my offer, Si visited [Reviewers] to get my email address – he noticed the infection, and took time to inform and assist me in identifying it. Thank you again Si, A.K.A @TwitCleaner – your actions helped me, and did a lot to restore my ever-dwindling faith in the goodness of individuals.

    Anyway, to cut a long story short, cleaning up the infection took a ton of time I really don’t have, and the only pot from which I could pull the time, was Twitter…

    {P.S. if you’re a book reviewer or blogger please visit the link above – I’d love to hear from you.}

  • Patriotism.

    Patriotism: a word of place in a placeless, single world. #thought

    Patriotism, and Duty.  Honorable sounding words, for dishonorable deeds.

    Time passes, and things change… well, most things change, while some remain the same. The words I’ve named above fall within the “unchanging” category, and while they bear honor’s guise, it is a shabby fit at best.

    Let’s consider them in sequence, but at first apart for that ancient phrase “United they stand, divided they fall” holds true.  Sweet it is, and fitting, to tear apart falsity wrapped as truth – especially using one of the very quotes so often used to justify one of man’s most immoral acts. Namely, war. {For those that care, and I hope you all do, that is a modified translation of another ancient lie, attributed to Horace, “Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori”.}

    The world remains the same size it was a millennium ago, yet distances have shrunk even as humanity has experienced a population explosion.  Technologically, mankind has advanced rapidly.  Intellectually, humankind remains stuck in a single spot.  Spiritually, humanity has lost ground – we’ve forgotten things we once knew, and grown convinced they don’t matter… when they do.

    We’re all primitive people, easily manipulated, easily distracted from truth, and voracious in our appetites.  What do you suspect happens when such greedy primitive beings as we, intellectually incapable of overcoming our tribal instincts to gain more than our needs, acquire terrible technologies?

    War… on an even greater scale than before.

    Justification and motivation for war is accomplished using deceitful words held high, as truths.  Everyone wants to be a patriot, don’t they – yet do we even know what a patriot is?  The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines a patriot as “a person who loves, supports, and defends his or her country and its interests with devotion.”  What powerful, eloquent, inspiring words – for an archaic, defunct set of primitive, tribal beliefs.

    Like marriage, perhaps it’s past time we redefined this word in terms more suitable for today.  Isn’t a patriot, in essence, someone who loves their country?

    If we love our country {whatever country that may be}, there is no explicit need for us to “support” it – our love guarantees implicit support.  Only when our country engages in something dishonorable is explicit support demanded – at which time all that truly love their country {AKA “patriots”} should actively strive to set their country back on the honorable path.

    Further, what need is there for “defends” in the definition of patriotism?  Last I considered this, there is no need for defense if there is no attack.  {Unless you’re foolish enough to embrace the idiotic concept of “pre-emptive self-defense”}  Are misguided patriots not the ones dishonorable leaders would use in their attacks?

    Is aggression the ultimate aspiration of patriots, as that word is currently defined?  It seems so, and neither is aggression an honorable activity.

    Duty… I’ll leave you to think on the circumstances in which duty is invoked, and possibly tackle that topic on another day.

  • Time, to write a wrong.

    Time past righting a wrong, and this my writing of this wrong, in poetic form.

    Marriage Equality.
    Religion’s Organized Refrain.
    You must believe as we, or heathen will you be.
    Don’t confuse the faithful with your lies
    don’t dare to make them open, their dogma shuttered eyes.
    Marriage is a word most meaningful,
    that has but one design,
    its only purpose is fruitful copulation
    with other gendered, of your kind.
    How dare the unbelievers, take our holy word
    and twist, and turn it into something so absurd
    as love between two people,
    without bias for gender,
    Without honor for… our holy word.
    Love, for one of your own gender?
    Absurd!
    For anyone who dares use reason from their own brain
    You must show contempt,
    and haughty disdain.
    ~
    Reason’s Refrain.
    You proclaim your god is mighty, loving, and true,
    then by your deeds prove, his holy words mean nothing, to you.
    Twist the words written, that they might suit just you.
    Who are you to claim protection of the words you hold holy
    when by your efforts, you twist it into something so absurd
    as “love may only exist between those of opposite gender”.
    To thinkers, this obscenity, you dare to tender.
    Only when it suits you, do you quote your holy words.
    Often when it suits you, from context do you rip them,
    and with that deed, remove any true meaning.
    Picking and choosing, without gleaning
    any truth they might once have held.
    Guidance did they offer, words, like shalt… not must.
    Meanings long since forgotten, corrupted by man’s lust.
    Divinity is life, and life, divinity.
    Within our single life, we strive for love.
    We don’t know where we’ll find it,
    spiritually, not body bound, flowing from without.
    Or within the arms, of a mortal lover, maybe not devout.
    True love knows no season,
    true love doesn’t bow before dogmatic reason.
    It clasps you by the heart,
    and when it goes unrequited, it tears your afflicted soul apart.
    You claim you love your brothers, and yet you segregate
    you may not love another, whose gender yours does match.
    If the only purpose of marriage is procreation,
    then sinners are we all, without exemption.
    Marriage is a commitment, an everlasting bond.
    Marriage is not defined, by rigid little laws
    or rigid little people, without true, just, and fair cause.
    Does not marriage within in it hold love?
    Another simple, holy word…
    Love is not subject to reason,
    Love does not flinch before distrust,
    Love does not fail before mis-reason,
    nor bow before the discrimination,
    of this misguided nation
    The only thing, before which love kneels, is the claimer of your heart,
    who love has brought together, let no one tear apart
    ~
    Logic’s Refrain
    No law that is not equal, should be tendered, as true.
    No exceptions should we make
    that  within our laws entomb, foul discrimination.
    As anyone can see, this must be folly
    this, cannot be…
    divinity.
    Any decent person must demand…
    Marriage Equality.
    ~

     {I make no apologies for my changed views on Marriage. If you’re interested in the motivations of a contrary man, you may read my tale of enlightenment here, and here.}

  • Same-Sex Marriage.

    The US Supreme Court is currently considering cases regarding a touchy, emotive subject. Namely the question of the veracity of same-sex marriage.  Unfortunately, I don’t do well when I’m troubled by thoughts of injustice, and this subject is rampant with such thoughts.

    Until relatively recently, my view was that the word “marriage” should be reserved for the specific union between a man and a woman.  {For those interested in my change of heart, my post, “Marriage,  a word’s meaning” provides a little background.}

    Why did I change my mind?  Because of prompting from my youngest daughter {thirteen at the time}, who expressed shock I could be opposed to same-sex couples.  I corrected her by stating I had never held that bigoted viewpoint, then went on to explain that we were talking about the meaning of a root word, namely marriage.

    Though I wish I could remember Julia’s exact words, I cannot, so here’s the gist of how she prompted my change of heart, “That doesn’t make sense, dad.  Words change their meaning all the time.  Just because people in the past were ignorant and had the wrong ideas doesn’t mean we’re stuck with what they thought something meant.  I think marriage is for couples who love each other and intend to be with each other forever.  What do you think?”

    How is it that the young see the truth of things so clearly?  Perhaps it is because they haven’t yet been trained to the biases of whatever society they dwell in?

    What could I do but agree?  Julia’s definition of “marriage” cuts to the heart of the matter.  Marriage is not about sex, or about gender.  Marriage, is about commitment.  No one, neither individual or government, has the right to deny any committed couple their chance at the permanent bond of marriage.

    So, since I’ve come to terms with my change of heart, why am I troubled by thoughts of injustice?  Simple.  Because I fear the US Supreme Court is about to allow a massive, long running injustice go unaddressed… or at best inadequately addressed.

    Sadly, the USA seems to be a country where the courts are less concerned with justice than they are in following the letter of flawed laws.  In reflecting on the technicalities of the matter of same-sex marriage, Justice Sonia Sotomayor seems to be following that precedent.  She asked this question, “If the issue is letting the states experiment and letting the society have more time to figure out its direction, why is taking a case now the answer?”

    Allow me, a gravely troubled citizen, to answer that question.  Because everyone deserves equal access to justice now, not at some unspecified time in the future.

    Many of the original European immigrants came to America to escape religious persecution.  Limiting marriage benefits and responsibility exclusively to heterosexual couples has no basis other than religious or politically motivated dogma.  How has this country been so sorely turned about that where it once held separation of Church and State as sacrosanct, it now seeks to entrench religious persecution into law?

    I don’t do well when I’m troubled by thoughts of injustice…  Withholding access to marriage equality from any committed couple, regardless of gender, is injustice.  As a strictly heterosexual male already past my silver wedding anniversary, and looking forward to my gold, I can only imagine how same sex couples denied access to equal rights feel.

    That very imagining troubles me.

    Same-sex couples are victims of persecution, oppression, and injustice.

    That needs to end, and it needs to end now, not at some other undetermined time in the future.

    The following is a quote from my work, Malmaxa. “Were those denied justice ever satisfied with their lot?”  Since the answer to that question is a resounding, “No!” we should not be surprised when same-sex couples aren’t satisfied with their lot.  Indeed, no moral person should be content to remain silent in any society that denies equal justice to all its citizens, regardless of gender, color, caste, creed, sexual orientation, origin, or religion.

    The time for silent social conscience on this issue is long since passed. Now is the time for social activism.

    {04/14/13 – further steps on this journey can be found here.}

  • Conscious Activism

    On February 26, 2013, I posted back-to-back tweets from my Twitter account, @CGAyling.  The first stated:-

    “Social conscience: recognizing injustice. {widely encouraged}”,

    the second,

    “Social Activism: acting on your social conscience. {widely discouraged}”.

    A growing sense of inequity, prompted these thoughts.

    In my youth, fortune smiled on me.  The middle child of seven, my first memories are from our life in an extremely small village named Melsetter.  Melsetter is located in the scenic Eastern Highlands of a place now mired in tragedy, and renamed Zimbabwe.  In Melsetter, my father held a position of influence and my mother one of mystique – least those were my perceptions, for how else does a very young child raised in the security of a loving family see their parents?

    Fortune’s pendulum swung.

    Misfortune widowed my mother, leaving her to raise seven children.  While we lacked for things material, we never lacked for love.  My Godfather stepped into my life and assumed the figure of father for me, while never presuming to replace my deceased father.  The world seemed fair and equitable – a place of dignity, with difference assumed, and respected.  In my Godfather’s care, I learnt of conscience, and of deed.  He taught me that for conscience to hold any moral value, one must act upon it, with deeds.

    A decade passed, my Godfather moved to Spain, and a terrible war ravaged my peaceful land.  I served on the losing side, volunteering for service before my scheduled conscription into the Rhodesian Army.

    Why did I volunteer?  From a powerful sense of social activism – I knew Rhodesia was doomed to fall before the onslaught of communist backed terrorists.  (Terrorists is what we called them then, and terrorists is what they have proved to be.)  My conscience goaded me to act in defense of a homeland whose demise was imminent, and inescapable.  Following my Godfather’s lesson, I acted on my conscience and decided to volunteer for Military Service.  Widespread disapproval met my little act of possibly misguided activism.  Teachers drew me aside and told me that all I had to do was wait, the end of conscription was as hand – just as soon as Rhodesia lost the war.

    Even within my family, my decision met with powerful disapproval.  My three older brothers, already undertaking their National Service, each urged me to reconsider.  My mother cried, something I have very rarely seen.  Although shocked at my family’s lack of support, within my heart I knew that their admonishments were in attempt to protect me from very likely harm.  When my mother perceived I would not relent and intended to serve, she urged me to join Internal Affairs, the Airforce, or the Police – all alternative forms of National Service instead of the Army, and all with far less risk of combat.  However, my wish was to fight for my country, not serve in another less active role.  I joined the Army, attended the School of Infantry, and ultimately received my wish.

    Be careful what you wish for – for sometimes wishes are granted.

    Looking back through hindsight’s rose tinted spectacles, I question much of what I believed at that time.  It turns out that truth is not absolute – it is nothing more than our perception of available information.  However, whether I did the right thing is not the point of this post – the point, is that I acted on my social conscience.

    Question your conscience, to be sure its motivation seems pure, and then act on it.  Even if only to yourself, you will make a difference – and remember, change begins at home.

    <<<-0->>>

    While you’re here, please take a look around my blog, you’re sure to find something to promote thought.

  • Beware, what you wish for.

    Prompted by an oft repeated sentiment wishing for warmer weather, tweeted by a Twitter companion {I don’t really like the terms following / follower}. The tweet, by @marlo_maybe read, “I swear that I won’t complain about summer heat ever again. This snow shit is for the birds.”

    While undergoing military service during the Rhodesian counter-insurgency war I had occasion to visit the Zambezi Valley.  On one particular day, written vivid within a memory of misery, the temperature reached 47°C.  {For those still trapped beneath the tyranny of Imperial measurements, that’s closer to 117°F than 116°F.}  No problem, I hear you say – just go indoors into the air-conditioning.  If we could have, we would have…  Not only was there no indoors in our camps, there was no air-conditioning either.  All we could do to relieve the heat was lay beneath tents with all sides raised in hope of some breeze.  More than a few succumbed to heatstroke and had to be trucked out.

    If you’ve ever heard the expression, “Only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the noonday sun”, the Zambezi Valley might be where it originated.

    So, the next time you make a fervent wish to change your circumstances, make sure you add in a caveat – it might protect you from yourself…

  • Places, that shiver.

    We’re all concerned with things larger than life. For the religious, that translates into belief of a greater, guiding power. For those lacking the comfort of religion, the same thoughts are troubling. Regardless of which camp you fall into, each of us knows that there is more to life than, well, just being alive.

    Experiencing, firsthand, the power of certain mystic places drives this intuitive knowledge home. I call such, the places that shiver, and I’ve been fortunate enough to find a few. Where are they, and why the connection? I’ll describe several of them, and expand on my thoughts as to what causes the electric shiver that makes these places so powerful.

    The first time I experienced a connection was in the country of my origin. Rhodesia at the time, Zimbabwe now. I was travelling with my Godfather, who drove us to a small solid granite mound protruding perhaps a hundred feet from the ground. He never told me what it was, just stopped the car and asked if I felt anything. I did – a wave of goose bumps on a warm day. My Godfather pointed out the remains of an uncharacteristic, low stone wall about a hundred yards off the road. He made no move to approach, and I didn’t feel like moving – not with such an extraordinary feeling washing over me. After a few minutes of shivering beneath the sun, we got back in the car and drove away. Apparently, there were hundreds of similar places throughout the countryside, generally avoided by the local tribes, who held them sacred. After agreeing sacred might be an appropriate description for the strange feeling, I asked what he meant by “generally avoided”. He replied that we were on our way to visit the most famous one of all – the Zimbabwe Ruins, and that people are often willing to disregard their intuition for pay.

    A long time passed before I felt the shiver again, this time during a visit to Spain, where we visited a place called the Alcázar. It happened again while travelling around Ireland, at a place called the Riasc Monastic Settlement. More recently, I visited the Vietnam Veterans Memorial with my wife – though the site is impressive and solemn, I felt no shiver and left somewhat disappointed.

    Looking back, I notice several similarities. Each of them contains worked stone. Each has a dark past in which I suspect people suffered, and died in substantial numbers. On each occasion, I accompanied my Godfather. There are probably more, all of which collapse before logical analysis. As someone who considers themselves logical, it should be simple to dismiss them out of hand as the working of an overactive imagination. However, I can’t – you see, I was there, I know what I felt, and I also know nothing had been said beforehand to suggest something strange was about to happen.

    Perhaps you’ve felt something similar without need to travel to exotic places. I’ve experienced the graveyard chill, and it does hold similarities. However, the creepy feeling we get venturing into a place we know holds the mortal remains of people, is weak in comparison. Sort of like dipping your fingertips into a cold stream, versus falling into an icy lake you had no idea was there. The graveyard chill is also quite unpleasant, while the shiver of a mystic place is very strange, but not scary – rather, it serves to focus your mind, which renders you fully alert and open to other possibilities.

    Some things are larger than life, and that’s OK. After all, life is magical, and connected. I’d love to hear your feelings and experiences, contact me on Twitter where you can find me as @CGAyling. Till then, search out the places that shiver, in a good way.

    {Originally posted here.}