C.G.Ayling

Blog

  • on the Young

    There is something special in the tentative, vulnerable smiles of very young girls.

    I wonder what happens to them that they lose that precious innocence?  Perhaps it is when they pass beyond adolescence into young adulthood and begin to realize boys are easy prey to their wiles.  When this happens, some mistakenly think all men are their eager subjects. Yes, I think that may be the point at which they eschew innocence in favor of manipulation.

    Sadly what they give up, they never regain.

    I have always been willing to share smiles with the young, but since I matured I find myself less willing to appear friendly toward teenage and older girls. This is partly because in modern society friendliness can be misconstrued, however it is also because I have a strong dislike of being manipulated.

    Saddest of all, to me, is this undeniable truth – the very young are able to easily twist us about their smallest finger.  This magical power, which all babies possess, exists right up until they realize they possess it, at which time it mysteriously ceases to be.

    Is that the way of all magic? That it loses power with realization of its effect?

    The rain is tears shed by the sky, until we understand precipitation.

    The moon lights the heavens on the darkest of nights, until we realize it barely reflects the sun.

    The ocean fights a perpetual battle with the shore, until we reduce its majestic armies to the tide.

    Resist the urge to shut your eyes to the everyday magic that surrounds us, for eyes so closed never reopen to its wonders.

     

  • on Fate’s Odds

    Followers of my blog may realize I am a believer in Fate. Every passing year has increased this belief to the point I now find it hard to understand how anyone could not realize Fate is the rider that pulls our reins.

    Is who we are right now the result of an enormous number of chance occurrences, each of which is itself the result of the same?

    Mathematically, those odds are not good. And those bad odds get exponentially worse with each iteration we follow the chain of chance backwards. Soon the odds of anything happening become so remote they become infinitely unrealistic.

    To clarify what I mean let me provide you with a chain of events, specifically leading to my writing this blog post today. You may be the judge of their likelihood.

    By chance my father meets my mother while his family is on a international vacation. They see something in each other. The vacation ends, but before it does they exchange addresses. They correspond {by snail mail}. The bond between them strengthens. Chance results in my father’s father relocating to The Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland.  Chance dictates this is the country in which my mother was born and raised.  My parents become engaged and marry.  They conceive three boys, then me, then my twin sisters and finally my youngest brother.

    Nothing particularly unusual.

    Really?  Let us consider the math.  The average human ejaculate contains about one hundred and eighty million sperm.  Statistically, there was a one is 180m chance of my conception. Let us call that number the HumanBase, for the base chance of existence of any human is at least that number.

    However I am not a stand alone person, nobody is.  Who I am is a combination of two things. Specifically my genetics and my circumstances. In this you are no different than me. So, considering only my immediate family, which is a ludicrously simplified way to consider this, who I am may be mathematically described by this equation:-

    Charles = (180m x 180m x 180m x 180m x 180m x 180m x 180m x 180m)

    or

    Charles = (Mom x Dad x Piet x Chris x Jan x Libby x Sarah x Nick)

    Simplistically speaking, I am who I am because of my parents, modified by my brothers and sisters, who are each the result of a similar equation.

    More realistically, I am who I am because of my parents, modified by my interactions with every other human with whom I have come into contact, each of who may be fundamentally described as a HumanBase modified by a similar number of interactions.

    How many atoms are there in the universe, I wonder?  I wonder how many times that number would fit into the odds against either you, or me?

    Mathematically speaking the odds against any one of us being who, when, and where we are at precisely this instant are infinitely great.  Yet we are, and we are not alone.

    What greater evidence of Fate do you require?

     

  • Dwelling in the Details

    There is an expression which states, “The devil is in the detail.”  In any country chronically obsessed with the letter of the law, this expression is extraordinarily true.  Indeed, perhaps the expression should be updated to reflect current times.  Maybe to something along the lines of, “The Devil dwells in legalese.”

    Mistruth undeniably finds a much easier abode in complexity than it does in simplicity.  However, the deliberate framing of complicated duplicity into law is not the focus of this post.  My focus today is the importance of our perception of the tiniest details.

    How important are these little details?  In the past I’ve written on how a butterfly’s breath changes the world.  To me, and I believe to every living creature, details are that important.

    I am constantly delighted to find evidence things other than devils dwells in the the tiniest details.  Sadly these miniscule elements often go unnoticed.  Below are two photographs I took using my cellular device {I refuse to call it a smartphone as it completely lacks any intelligence.}  I must stress that these photographs are completely unedited.  They exist precisely as taken, at my device’s full resolution.

    Since they are images of things I find mysteriously and inexplicably beautiful, namely flowers, it strikes me as fitting they should contain undeniable evidence of love.  After all, aren’t beauty and love cohorts in the same emotional domain?

    Examine them and see what you find.  But be warned, you may need to hone your eyes…

    a dying flowerEven as flowers begin to curl and die, their beauty remains.
    Even their blemishes are symbols of beauty.
    No, those speckles are not photographic artifacts.

    focal pointsBeauty and natural color so vibrant and spectacular my camera literally cannot capture it.

    If you’re viewing this page with a cellular device you may not have the ability to click on the images to see them at full resolution.
    Too bad…

  • Wisdom’s Path

    Difficulties, are these the names of the stones the pave the path to understanding?

    Difficulty, these are the large stones with smooth surfaces over which our feet flow, or upon which we stub our toe.

    Pain, these are the jagged little stones we never notice, until they cut our feet.

    Anguish, these are the invisible stones over which we trip, and never think we’ll find the strength to rise.

    Misery, these are the stones of salt with which the wounds of pain, we bathe.

    It should be no surprise that Understanding is a destination very few attain. Yet it is only beyond Understanding that we will find Tolerance, and only far past Tolerance that we might hope to eventually find Wisdom.

    Shoes? I think they cannot be worn on any of these paths, all of which are ultimately one.

    Where do the feet of your spirit guide you?  To smooth paths on which you will experience few of life’s discomforts, yet upon which you will find little sustenance for your soul?  Or to the path of difficulty, where you might?

    I would like to think mine guide me toward Understanding, but I know my feet are soft.

  • Wildflower Blue

    ~ Blue ~
    ~
    Blue,
    the color of woe,
    of tears
    that have no place to go.
    Blue,
    the color of mood,
    not joyful but low.
    Blue,
    the color of hearts
    so sad they glimmer
    not glow.
    Blue,
    the color of ocean and sea
    endlessly pulled hither
    and fro.
    Blue,
    the color of our moon
    maker of tides
    relentless though
    slow.
    Blue,
    the color of the depths
    below.
    Blue,
    the color of sky,
    the regal dome over earth
    so high.
    Blue,
    the color of space
    between.
    Blue,
    the color of souls
    unseen.
    ~

    and another poem, of a flower, an image of which follows.

    ~ Wildflower Blue ~
    ~
    Wildflower blue
    upon the plain
    patiently awaiting
    the coming rain.
    Wildflower blue,
    so patient and true,
    what has the wind
    done to you?
    Burst your pods wide
    your seeds to set free
    wildflower blue
    So patient
    So true
    ~

    Wildflower Blue

  • On Happiness

    Many believe they are happy. Many believe they are not.

    What is happiness? An illusive, impossible dream?

    Would we be happy if we had a little more? Would we be unhappy if we had a little less?

    If you’re wondering whether you are truly happy, then here is an exercise to help you decide.

    Imagine time travel is real, however there is one inescapable catch. When you travel back you forget everything that has already happened, including that you have traveled back and are reliving something that has already occurred. Everything that previously occurred will recur, precisely as it did before.

    Nothing changes.  Not a breath, not a moment. Every instant you relive is repeated. Nothing changes.

    If you know this and would do it all again, without the slightest change, then you have known happiness.

    Happiness realized: Is the truest measure of happiness, that we would go back in time to relive it precisely as we already have?

    Where does happiness dwell? In the past, in the moment, or in the future? Happiness Realized, is the past. Momentary Happiness, is now. Unrealized Happiness, is the future.

    Should we trade Unrealized Happiness for happiness that is real?

    What is happiness that is real? It is the happiness we have now, soon to become a memory.  You may be tempted to trade your current moments for possible moments that may never come. That decision is entirely yours and yes,  there are times when the payoff is huge.  For example investing time in your friendships, or increasing your exercise to reduce your weight. However there are many times when there is no payoff at all and all you ever get is the possibility of future happiness.  Experience may teach you to tell the difference.  Personally speaking, I’m not willing to do something that makes me miserable yet promises to reward me at some indeterminate time in the future.  But you’re not me, are you?

    Perhaps the following mantra might touch you…

    Live the future such that you’d gladly relive it once it becomes the past.

  • Tamryn

    The names that touch our Souls.

    Some think I named our oldest daughter.  Some think I made up her unique name, for until she bore it I knew of no other who did.  I did neither of those things.

    Tamryn.

    While still a teenager I had a dream in which I learnt my first child would be a girl, and that her name was Tamryn.  Not that her name would be Tamryn.  That her name already was Tamryn.  This happened about eight years before I met my then future wife, the same wonderful woman to whom I have now been married for so close to twenty-nine years it doesn’t count.

    Early in our courtship, during opening negotiations, I said this to Suzanne, “Oh, by the way, our first child will be a girl and her name will be Tamryn.” {What are proposals of marriage if not negotiations of crucial importance to our long-term happiness and well-being?}  My statement was an assertion of fact, not a negotiable element in our relationship. To my surprise Suzanne accepted, with the proviso she would have the right to name our second born.  {She did, and Dannielle has rejected attempts to correct the spelling of her given name ever since, but that is an amusing story for another day :)}.

    When Suzanne fell pregnant with Tamryn her gynecologist asked us if we wanted to know the baby’s gender.  Not only do I think such predeterminations are a cop-out, but I already knew both Tamryn’s gender and her name, so I said, “No.”

    For all of you with unborn children, I encourage you to be concerned with your child’s health more than you are with its gender.  Suzanne and I never accepted the often repeated offers of revealed gender for any of our four children, nor did we ever want for gender appropriate clothes or toys.  And yes, there is indeed a fundamental difference between the things little girls and boys like. However, you either know that already or you’ll find out, assuming you are fortunate enough to someday look into the eyes of your own newborn. Believe me when I say that moment is one which will forever change you, and one you will never want to forget.

    Our firstborn was wide awake and alert at delivery.  Tamryn’s inquisitive eyes proclaimed the answer to a riddle she had clearly pondered whilst in the womb, “So this is life!”

    Mere moments after she was born, Tamryn looked deep into my heart.  I will never forget the intelligence I saw within her sparking eyes.  I knew she meant, “life on the outside”, and I also knew she was already an old soul. Indeed, I think it may have been that I knew Tamryn long before either her conception or her birth.

    Could Tamryn have been any other than who she is?  I don’t believe she could.  Just as I don’t believe any of us can be other than who we are.  Yes, many choose to reveal a false face to the world, however I think in their heart they are unhappy and that their soul is deeply discontented with their deception. Is truth finally revealed not a wonderful relief?  I think that the source of that relief may well be our soul.

    Your given name may not be who you feel you are.  If, on some profound level, you are not content with your name then you can change it.  Perhaps you even should.

    But your Soul?

    Your soul is you.  Since you cannot change your soul and it is with you for your forever, do the wise thing… treat it as best you can.  Treat your soul with honesty, for if you don’t you surely cheat yourself.  Listen closely to its seemingly indistinct murmurs, for its words are crystal clear… you need only care enough to hear.

    If you’re interested in old souls encapsulated in the bodies of the young then my work, Malmaxa, might interest you.  Who knows, you may even encounter the Soul I knew long before our Tamryn was conceived.

  • Deeds -versus- Words

    A virtual friend, Camille Sanzone, emailed me today. I have taken the liberty of quoting her email in order to set the stage for my response. I am sure she won’t mind, however if you’d like to find out why I am sure of this please listen to her online radio show Tie a Knot and Hang On! Help has Arrived! It airs every Wednesday at 1p.m. Eastern Time.

    Camille’s email:
    “I just saw a poster on LinkedIn that says:

    Actions always prove why words mean nothing.

    Made me think of you, naturally, and your fondness for words.
    How would you respond to that?
    Camille”

    My {slightly edited} response:

    I would like to respond by saying the statement is unadulterated bull@#$%. Of course I wouldn’t use those words in a public forum…

    Sadly, I see this type of idiotic pseudo wisdom touted often. I generally ignore it.

    Action undertaken without thought is accurately described as thoughtless, however it could be equally accurately described as wordless. You see words are the means by which thoughts are conveyed. Thoughts precede words, and words precede any thoughtful deeds. Whether those deeds are malign or benign doesn’t matter one iota – words have preceded the actions we otherwise know as deeds.

    If I was to tweet about it I might say:-

    Words are the embodiment of thoughts, deeds are the embodiment of words, thus any deed undertaken without words is utterly mindless.

    Let me finish by pointing out something inescapable about these allegedly powerful deeds which prove words mean nothing… they can only be described with words.

    Thus without words it is in fact deeds that ultimately mean nothing.

  • Wealth’s Poverty

    ~ Wealth’s Poverty ~
    ~
    We lie atop the sacrificial slab,
    and with our quill,
    our heart we stab,
    blood words upon our skin we scribe.
    Our hope?
    That others those blood wrought words
    will read,
    and from spiritual poverty
    be freed.
    ~
    The goal of every word
    we write?
    To free another from
    our plight.
    Our truths we see, we say,
    and for our truths
    we’ll fight,
    and from darkness,
    the willing
    we will
    drag
    to light.
    ~
    In the shadows do the wicked dwell,
    from whence the poor,
    with false hopes cast as arrows,
    they fell.
    With mistruth they bind the masses,
    spreading hopes of salvation,
    which they buy,
    then tell.
    Lottery promises of escape from poverty,
    they sell.
    Hopes, of freedom from this
    mortal hell.
    ~
    A piece of soul-scribed skin,
    from our flesh they flay,
    a map they intend to use,
    to help them find their forgotten way.
    ~
    We won’t beg, or plead for the wealthy
    to stay.
    You see,
    our stolen words do the rich mislead,
    for though salvation’s map is true,
    the needle-eyed gate is one
    which rich thieves will never
    pass through.
    ~
    Peaks of luxury do the wealthy climb,
    while down below their workers wade in slime.
    With no excess sufficient to their unsated greed,
    they’ve let this world slide and slip to seed.
    Loud do they their lying anthem proclaim,
    “There will always be the needy!
    So let them toil and bleed
    while upon their labors,
    we,
    the wealthy,
    feed.”
    ~
    And yet unshuttered eyes easily do see,
    the rich have finally gone insane…
    Their mad intent?
    To keep this broken world,
    the same.
    ~
    For their obscene wealth,
    the rich feel no shame,
    and on the burdened shoulders of the poor,
    heap they all blame.
    ~
    Unwanted garments from their shoulders slough,
    gourmet delights uneaten,
    left to rot,
    till from their banquet tables,
    once good food falls with a putrid
    plop,
    sustenance they’ve let turn into
    slop,
    while from hunger
    they let the poverty stricken
    drop.
    ~
    When will we,
    the victims of wealth’s poverty,
    from our indentured slavery
    turn, not flee?
    ~
    I fear
    not soon
    enough…
    ~

  • On dé·jà vu

    dé·jà vu
    pronunciation: dāZHä ˈvo͞o
    noun: déjà vu
    a feeling of having previously experienced the present situation.

    dé·jà vu, also known as “Further thoughts on Fate.”

    I wonder if those who have never experienced Fate are simply too blind to notice it, too insensitive to feel its feather-light touch, or too scared to think again when dé·jà vu fills their mind with memories they at first think are not their own?

    Am I making too much of nothing in an attempt to prove Fate exists?  Nope.  I don’t need to prove Fate exists.  Why?  Because I know there are billions who don’t believe fate exists and that nothing I say or do will sway their minds.  And then there are other souls who already know Fate does exist.  Likewise there is no need for me to prove anything to them.

    There is no need for me to prove anything.  Yet I do have a need…

    My blog has never been about proofs, it has always been about feelings.  Which is what my need is.  The need to share my feelings in hope they stir feeling within others.  In this post the feelings I’m sharing are related to my thoughts on Fate, which I’ve blogged about at various times.  If you’re interested, here is a breadcrumb that might lead you to the trail that led me here.

    Fate.

    The topic of fate is so complicated it is very difficult to understand.  Please don’t mistake anything I’ve previously said to mean “Everything is set in stone, nothing can change anything, so just give up already!”  Not only have I never said or felt that, but I’m not saying it at all.  However I am having difficulty finding words to explain what my heart reveals.  Enormous difficulty.

    If Fate is absolute, then nothing matters.  Right?  No, that is completely wrong.  It is precisely because fate is absolute, that everything matters.

    If a good person sees an ill deed done, yet does nothing, then they aren’t good at all.  It is not fate that determines whether people are of good or bad nature, it is how people react to the circumstances of their fate that determines their nature.

    If we don’t try, then we are the ones who lack, and we are the ones at fault.

    Whether or not our attempts are fated to fail or to succeed does not matter one whit.  What matters is that we make the attempt to change destiny.  It is our struggle which most clearly defines us as worthy.

    Worthy or unworthy of what?  Well, perhaps worthy of an escape from the inescapable clutches of the Fates.  Perhaps through access to heaven where we are no longer bound by the Fates, but also from where we can no longer interfere in the fates of those who remain bound.

    Lots more thoughts to condense into words.  Lots.  So if you’re of the patient, thinking sort then come back and visit sometime and you may well find further semi-coherent thoughts on the nature of chaos.  I won’t promise when, since when is outside my hands.  But the attempt?  That is not.