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| General provisions: A – Whereas the saying “all is fair in love and war” is absolutely correct; B – Whereas for war we have the Geneva Convention, approved on 22 August 1864, which provides for those wounded in the battle field, but until now no convention has been signed concerning those wounded in love, who are far greater in number; It is hereby decreed that: Article 1 – All lovers, of any sex, are alerted that love, besides being a blessing, is also something extremely dangerous, unpredictable and capable of causing serious damage. Consequently, anyone planning to love should be aware that they are exposing their body and soul to various types of wounds, and that they shall not be able to blame their partner at any moment, since the risk is the same for both. Article 2 – Once struck by a stray arrow fired from Cupid’s bow, they should immediately ask the archer to shoot the same arrow in the opposite direction, so as not to be afflicted by the wound known as “unrequited love”. Should Cupid refuse to perform such a gesture, the Convention now being promulgated demands that the wounded partner remove the arrow from his/her heart and throw it in the garbage. In order to guarantee this, those concerned should avoid telephone calls, messages over the Internet, sending flowers that are always returned, or each and every means of seduction, since these may yield results in the short run but always end up wrong after a while. The Convention decrees that the wounded person should immediately seek the company of other people and try to control the obsessive thought: “this person is worth fighting for”. Article 3 – If the wound is caused by third parties, in other words if the loved one has become interested in someone not in the script previously drafted, vengeance is expressly forbidden. In this case, it is allowed to use tears until the eyes dry up, to punch walls or pillows, to insult the ex-partner in conversations with friends, to allege his/her complete lack of taste, but without offending their honor. The Convention determines that the rule contained in Article 2 be applied: seek the company of other persons, preferably in places different from those frequented by the other party. Article 4 – In the case of light wounds, herein classified as small treacheries, fulminating passions that are short-lived, passing sexual disinterest, the medicine called Pardon should be applied generously and quickly. Once this medicine has been applied, one should never reconsider one's decision, not even once, and the theme must be completely forgotten and never used as an argument in a fight or in a moment of hatred. Article 5 – In all definitive wounds, also known as “breaking up”, the only medicine capable of having an effect is called Time. It is no use seeking consolation from fortune-tellers (who always say that the lost lover will return), romantic books (which always have a happy ending), soap-operas on the television or other such things. One should suffer intensely, completely avoiding drugs, tranquilizers and praying to saints. Alcohol is only tolerated if kept to a maximum of two glasses of wine a day. Final determination: Those wounded in love, unlike those wounded in armed conflict, are neither victims nor torturers. They chose something that is part of life, and so they have to accept both the agony and the ecstasy of their choice. And those who have never been wounded in love will never be able to say: “I have lived”. Because they haven’t. |
"the alpha to omega" by Scott Langston www.scottlangston.org
What if?
Have you ever felt like just getting away from it all? Have you ever envisaged an exotic life abroad? An eternal holiday? Have you ever stopped to consider how your life would turn out if you took such a step? And which demons would you take with you?
Escaping a humdrum future and striking out for a new life in Greece may not be the answer. Sun, sea and copious amounts of alcohol serve as a backdrop for a journey of self-discovery and for romance.
I am a free spirit
Beautiful and loving
Emanating light.
In my eagerness
For her to see it
I stumble and fall
Extinguishing my light
Renting my gowns
Tarnishing my beauty
And so she sees
My eagerness as desperation
My love as fear
I become less than I am
And she sees the sadness
With which this false image fills me
But I am a free spirit
Beautiful and loving
Emanating light
She will see it
Or not, of her own accord
In time
She is breathing. I know this from the barely perceptible rhythmic raising and falling of her stomach. I still have my hand tightly on the doorknob. I linger in the doorway, marvelling at this little body, the wisps of hair moving in the breeze from the fan, the sheer improbability of anyone being able to sleep in that position. She is half on her back, with both arms stretched out behind her. Her head is tilted backwards too, at almost ninety degrees. One leg is stretched out straight; the other comically hangs over the railing of the bed. And yet she looks at peace; she looks more comfortable that I can ever remember being. There’s a multi-coloured stuffed elephant behind her, its trunk loosely grasped in her fingers. I move closer, conscious of the noise I make in doing so. Her open mouth quivers, her fingers clench on the elephant trunk, eliciting a crackling noise from the filling designed to do just that. I freeze. Too late. One foot kicks free of the bed railing and the other stretches theatrically. She turns her head minutely and opens one eye. She sees me and smiles widely before holding out one hand. Something inside me melts.
1. When was the last time you laughed uncontrollably?
Uncontrollably is rare. Out loud is rare, actually, too. My last bout of uncontrollable laughter would probably have been Monty Python related, and a while ago, at that. A well-timed ‘You lucky bastard’ can still have me in stitches.
2. What did you do during the ten minutes you spent before you started to read these questions?
I put my daughter to bed – it’s four in the afternoon and she’s crying as a prelude to sleep. I’ve set the table for tonight, as three friends are coming over to eat. There may not be time to do it later, with my acupuncture, the baby’s bath and some tidying up all competing for my attention. I’ve been trying to get connected to check my email, but this time of the afternoon is always slow…
3. Describe your favourite flower without using colour words.
Velvety. Redolent of summer rains. Glistening. Tall and alluring.
4. When were the last occasions you sent and received flowers?
Sent – to a friend I visited recently who was recovering from a minor motorbike accident. I took breakfast, too. Received – almost certainly from my wife, but when? This year, but I can’t recall the occasion. It probably wasn’t an occasion.
5. What was your worst recurring childhood dream? Do you ever still get it, or reflections of it?
I would have a recurring dream when I was ill, particularly feverish. I had it all through my childhood and teenage years. It wasn’t so much events, as strong and disturbing contrasts of size, shape and texture. As I closed my eyes, it overtook me, and I became part of the experiences, losing myself to them. There was always a voice, a monotone man’s voice, which for some reason terrified me the most. The last time I had it was a few years ago, when I was suffering from Dengue Fever. Not to be recommended, by the way.
Photograph from 'Pattaya Off' - Juliette De SalleI witness your illusions of celebration
Passing through, detached
Discarded stools at infinite bars
Alcohol drowning spirits
I am saddened
The harsh reality of daylight
Penetrates your façade
Sickens me
I seek out signs of joy
Hoping to be wrong
Hoping that some spark of happiness
Triumphed here
But I find only remnants of loneliness
A waste of time
The masks of contentment have been shed
The pretension to delight and exhilaration
Revealed for what they are
Ethereal, unattainable
Empty promises now pathetic
I witness only the degradation of humanity
No shout or scream
Can give meaning to this nauseating madness
I’m lost and afraid.
Nothing more strongly arouses our disgust than cannibalism, yet we make the same impression on Buddhists and vegetarians, for we feed on babies, though not our own.
Robert Louis Stevenson
Tongue - a variety of meat, rarely served because it clearly crosses the line between a cut of beef and a piece of a dead cow.
Bob Ekstrom
"What I think about vivisection is that if people admit that they have the right to take or endanger the life of living beings for the benefit of many, there will be no limit to their cruelty.""If a group of beings from another planet were to land on Earth -- beings who considered themselves as superior to you as you feel yourself to be to other animals -- would you concede them the rights over you that you assume over other animals?"
George Bernard Shaw, playwright, Nobel Prize 1925
The Monkey is the most versatile sign of the Chinese zodiac. Such people are often inventors, plotters, entertainers and the creative geniuses behind anything ingenious, including mischief. They have natural quick-wittedness which enables them to understand what is happening and then make a right decision. Even during a conversation a person born in this year is aware of what is going on around him/her, and then makes a mental note of who said what and stores it away for future reference. In general, with their agile minds and multiple talents, monkey types can master any subject. They are reliable and honest people so that any secret is safe in their hands. These people are also honest in their dealings and are very good at problem-solving: knowing how to listen closely and work out solutions at the same time.
“I’ve locked your tummy with my magic key, mummy,” Tien announced to her mother one morning, “so the baby can’t come out.” So simple. The pink plastic key hung from her neck on a white ribbon. It, and the treasure chest it opened, had been a birthday gift the day before from Mamy Ngoc. Reincarnating Ngoc in this way had been Hung’s idea, a typical deference to his daughter’s fantasies; Huong herself disapproved. Tien then skipped off happily downstairs to where breakfast awaited. Problem solved.
Huong marvelled, nonetheless, at her daughter’s ingenuity. Such intelligence, such vitality: wasted in a girl. She put her hands to her stomach, the fluttering movements inside reminding her of the subject of Tien’s early morning announcement. As suddenly as it had come, her good humour left her. She turned to the shrine at the top of the stairs, lighting a handful of incense sticks as she did so, and prayed briefly once more, “Please, a boy this time.”
Ngoc’s sombre but sympathetic shake of the head, so near, yet so very far away, translated as a barely discernible waft of smoke from the incense burning on the alter, but Huong had already turned away.
- I'm aiming for completion by September 2009.
Pleasure in the heat
Of the tropics, of a woman
Seeking what you thought you desired
A lifetime ago
Now that you can
Eternal promise of sunshine
Escape from winter’s discontent
And fickle seasons
An endless spring
Delirious in the re-discovered youth
You never knew
An escape from the past
From submission
And resignation
Free at last
So much life wasted.
Too late to start again?
Now that I am back, again sitting outside in the sunshine, I can hardly believe what I’m feeling. If I close my eyes, I can be there again, not just as a memory, but actually there…
The dog ran on ahead, stopping frequently to look back at us, head cocked questioningly, before he ran on again, tongue flapping and saucer-feet padding the ground playfully, in search of a new distraction. We weren’t talking - not about anything important at least. We were just being. It was one of those almost frosty November days: our breath rose visibly and lost itself amongst the dappled confusion of bright sunlight and leaf shadow. I looked across at her from time to time, taking in her profile, her smile… Once, just once, she caught my look and held it momentarily. In that instant I lived a lifetime. In that look there was a world of knowing. She was saying, “Yes, I understand you.” I felt safe: the playing was over and this could be why I’m here, to live this life. We never touched, never spoke intimately of anything and yet I knew that here was a possible future. I think she felt it, too.
The intrigue I feel about this woman is immense. I have a compulsion to get inside her head, to know everything. Being with her is one continuous déjà vu. Something about her touches me in a way I’ve never been touched before. I almost believe that if I were to close my eyes and concentrate enough, I could talk to her now, wherever she may be. I feel alive and vibrant. I feel I am.
Can feeling this much be wrong? Where is this going?
Tell us the book title and your author name.
My name is Scott Langston and the title of the book is “is”. Originally, I had intended to book to be called ‘The Domino Effect’ – one of the themes in the novel is how the actions of one character can have unforeseen impact on another character – like falling dominoes. I even commissioned a Magritte-style cover page with this image. However, the novel became something a little different as it went through several edits, and ‘is’ summed up better the overall message of the novel.
What inspired the book?
I started writing this book when I was twenty years old. Many of the themes were beyond my grasp, and it wasn’t until I ‘refound’ the novel fifteen years after starting it that I had something approaching the maturity to do the book justice. If I had to pin it down to a precise moment, the novel was born after watching the film ‘Four weddings and a funeral’, specifically the funeral scene. I found it very moving, and imagined having to write such a eulogy myself.
What makes this book special to you?
It has certainly been a labour of love! As I said, I have physically lost the book on two occasions – the first time requiring a re-write almost entirely from pencil notes in an old scrap book. From first putting pen to paper to finally seeing the book in print took twenty years. That’s a long time. The book has been a part of my life, and my continual tinkering with it represented my desire to be a writer.
What makes this a book that other people MUST read and WHY?
I think the book has a lot to say about the fundamentals of how life is. It’s spiritual, without being overtly religious. It raises many questions and, I hope, answers a few too. It’s about perspective – another way of looking at life and death and God. If these questions do not interest you, then you probably shouldn’t bother reading the book!
What people NEED to read this book and WHY?
Nobody needs to read this book. Nobody needs to do anything. That’s one of the ventral messages of the book. There is no requirement – life just ‘is’.
What sparks your creativity? Any tips to help others spark their own creativity?
Writing is a muscle like ay other. It needs exercising and flexing, otherwise it wastes away. I keep a blog, as well as trying to have more than one project ongoing at a time. When one dries up, I can try my hand at something completely different. That’s how ‘Benny and Binny’ was born – a children’s story I wrote with an illustrator friend. You can find it, along with ordering details, on my website – www.scottlangston.org. Right now, I’m working on a novel set between
What has been the biggest stumbling block in your writing? Can you share some tips to help others get past similar problems?
I took a year off work to write full time at the same time as we had our baby daughter. I was under the impression that I could care for her and write at the same time. In short, children have been the biggest stumbling block for my writing. I need time and space to write, and kids don’t allow for much of either. That said, my life is considerably richer for having become a dad, and that can only come out in my writing eventually!
I guess another hurdle has been the management of distractions. When I turn on the computer, it’s all too easy to spend hours fiddling with stuff I’ve already written, updating my website, or simply surfing, rather than actually writing. I now have a dedicated laptop for writing which doesn’t have internet access.
What do you think motivates people to become authors? What motivated you to get into this unusual industry?
I believeI write because I have to. If you simply want to write, then my advice would be: don’t bother. Find something else to do and save yourself a whole lot of trouble. Writing is a lonely and often demoralising business – except when the connection comes through and then it’s without equal. So, it wasn’t really a choice – I have to write.
Tell me about the most unusual things you have done to promote any books?
Book promotion is my weakness. I have done the rounds of local bookshops where ‘Is’ was set, and a few copies have been sold that way. I’ve run book signings. I haven’t really done anything inspiring in the field of self-promotion. I know I ought to.
FICTION - If there is a setting, tell us how you decided on that setting and what you did to create a complete and vivid setting for your readers?
I grew up in
FICTION - What inspires you about the hero or heroine in your book? What makes them memorable for the reader? What motivates the hero and/or heroine? You can include information about both if you want.
I’m not sure Martin inspires me. He’s a protagonist, rather than a hero in the true sense of the word. Insomuch as everyone’s first novel is biographical, I guess Martin is in some respects me. His getting to grips with life and his enlightenment are ideals I would reach for.
FICTION - Is there a villain or something that causes friction in your story? Tell us about what or who it is and how that contributes to the story. Any details about conflict and friction is good information to know.
The conflict rests between expectations and risks, between safety and leaps of faith, between believing and knowing. Martin takes risks, when society would have him do otherwise. He trusts to himself, when society would have him do otherwise. He is prepared to love, not just another, but himself. This is perhaps one of the most difficult yet rewarding things we can achieve in life.
Website: www.scottlangston.org
Order from the author: http://www.scottlangston.org/is.html
Order Amazon: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Scott-Langston/dp/1897312202/ref=sr_1_5/026-1296762-2011605?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1192680476&sr=8-5
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There are boxes full of I-know-not-what. Most haven’t been opened since they left Belgium 6 years ago; a couple, I noticed today as we moved them all, are still intact from their departure from Greece over 7 years ago. What could be in there that I could possibly need or want now? Either way, it will be interesting to open them at some stage this summer…
I’m typing this on my knees. The nearest internet connection is a dial-up modem on another computer. This requires my finding my USB data-drive in order publish today. Which, realistically, is not going to happen. Such is life.
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DESIDERATA
Go placidly amidst the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly, and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter; for there will always be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe; no less than the trees and the stars, you have the right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labours and aspirations in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace with your soul. With all its sham drudgery and broken dreams it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
Attributed to Max Ehrmann 1927
And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, "Speak to us of Children."
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.
They came. They saw. They packed. They took away my espresso machine. It’s touch and go. I may not survive.
"Thou shalt not kill" does not apply to murder of one's own kind only, but to all living beings; and this Commandment was inscribed in the human breast long before it was proclaimed from Sinai. ~Leo Tolstoy
We all love animals. Why do we call some "pets" and others "dinner?" ~k.d. lang
The program's two shelters for street children in Ho Chi Minh City, Sunrise House for girls and Sunlight House for boys, takes in children from the streets or unhappy family situations and provides them with a safe home.
The program helps to put these children into neighbouring schools to learn to read and write or into vocational training centres, where they receive training for future employment.
In the shelters the children experience a sense of security and receive counselling about health issues such as drugs and sexual transmitted diseases like HIV/AIDS.
Many of the children also suffer from the legacy of chemical warfare, medical problems during pregnancy, hereditary traits and unhygienic living conditions.
There are about 70,000 children who are blind in Vietnam and of the 5.2 million disabled people, many who have lost arms or legs or both to the unexploded landmines left after the war, about 22,000 disabled children live in Ho Chi Minh City.
LVAP is involved in the Nguyen Dinh Chieu School where more than 200 blind children are taught English to help them increase their job prospects.
The program also provides financial support for a music program and to train teachers.
LVAP also supports the Sunrise Special School in Ho Chi Minh City to help train teachers in theory-based disability studies, participatory approaches for children's learning and community based rehabilitation.
Visit my website to order your copy of 'Benny and Binny' and make a contribution to the valuable work of this charity.
"Can you really ask what reason Pythagoras had for abstaining from flesh? For my part I rather wonder both by what accident and in what state of soul or mind the first man did so, touched his mouth to gore and brought his lips to the flesh of a dead creature, he who set forth tables of dead, stale bodies and ventured to call food and nourishment the parts that had a little before bellowed and cried, moved and lived. How could his eyes endure the slaughter when throats were slit and hides flayed and limbs torn from limb? How could his nose endure the stench? How was it that the pollution did not turn away his taste, which made contact with the sores of others and sucked juices and serums from mortal wounds?" ~Plutarch
The more I think about it, the more abhorrent it becomes. I also stumbled across this little gem from The Old Testament, no less:
“Whoever slaughters an ox is like one who kills a human being; whoever sacrifices a lamb, like one who breaks a dog’s neck; whoever presents a grain offering, like one who offers swine’s blood; whoever makes a memorial offering of frankincense, like one who blesses an idol. They have chosen their own ways and in their abominations they take delight.”
Isaiah 66:3
I have no doubt that it is a part of the destiny of the human race, in its gradual improvement, to leave off eating animals, as surely as the savage tribes have left off eating each other....
~Henry David Thoreau, Walden, 1854
800 million people are hungry and there’s no need.
We could easily produce enough food to feed everyone, if only we stopped feeding all the crops to the animals.
100kg of plant protein produces only 9kg of beef protein or 31kg of milk protein.
Doesn’t it make sense to just eat the plants?
Tuesday 15th August I have broken free! I feel like a character from ‘The Great Escape’; I can hear the theme tune in my head, see the steely grimace on McQueen’s face. I feel like breaking into a run, clicking my heels together, Andy Capp style. The sheer exhilaration of it! Was I so fed up with
Five minutes later, re-united with Rachel and Richard, I was sat on a balcony in 32 degrees of Mediterranean sunshine, drinking gin and tonic with a slice of lemon, memories of a cold and damp northern
Later, in the privacy of my own room, I am assailed by the enormity of what I have done. I have always believed that a few short hours, minutes or seconds even, given the right circumstances, can change your life. Here I am, my life changed! I look out of the French windows, wondering vaguely why they are called that, and see mountains in the near distance. The cloudless sky is a brilliant blue. The heat is oppressive, but feels good nonetheless. I feel inspired. I feel alive.
What limits the ‘is’?
Fear
Take heart
Take a deep breath
Boldly step forward
Into your life.
Only you can do this
Only you can create regrets
For decisions not made
Chances not taken.
Only you can be true enough
To yourself
To allow yourself
To live.
I have this slightly uncomfortable feeling that I have come here to run away. Bollocks to it. What's wrong with running away? "He who fights and runs away…”
I throw my backpack onto the double bed. It’s the one I bargained for outside a pub in north
I can't face unpacking just yet, so I shall wander downstairs to where I hear ice cubes clinking invitingly…
I can see: my keyboard, a little grubby, I note. Dust and stuff between the keys. It needs cleaning. A hastily scribble telephone number on a scrap of white paper – belong to? No idea. There’s a red-and-white airways envelope from
I can feel: the pain in my back and neck. Omnipresence. It is occupying more and more of me. As I concentrate, I can sense also a mild tingling in my fingertips, and of course the pressure as each key is hit. A trickle of sweat begins its journey down my back. As the fan reaches the edge of its arc, a brief respite of cool air reaches the left side of my head and body. And then there’s the pain in my back and neck…
I can hear: The electric shutters next door grindingly open to greet the day. The strains of Bach, oddly enough, coming from somewhere way behind the house. And now a taxi, struggling to squeeze passed the bikes parked outside and resorting to his horn. Padlocks being unlocked. And some one spitting loudly.
I can taste: the memory of the carrot and ginger juice I made myself ten minutes ago.
I can smell: hmm, my weak suit. Not much really. Even concentrating, I am unaware of any smells.
To recognise me, you must first know me again. Re-cognise. First, you must believe there is a God to know. Second, you have to be open to new ideas about me. Third, and this is the biggie, you need to be ready to embrace a God who embraces you, without condition.
Ask yourself every day, ‘Is this Who I Am?’. Every decision you make is not a decision about what to do, but a decision about Who You Are. The other five word magic question is, ‘What would Love do now?’
If you require a certain result to be happy, you have an addiction. If you simply desire a certain result, you have a preference. If you have no preference, you have Acceptance. And you have achieved Mastery.
Suffering has nothing to do with events, but your reactions to them. What’s happening is merely what’s happening. How you feel about it – how you choose to feel about it – is another matter. Can you simply accept what ‘Is’?
Bits pinched from Neale Donald Walsch…
There is only what there is
There is only now
There is only your life
Your happiness
Your desires
Your existence
The rest is background scenery.
Whilst it can be very nice,
Interesting even,
It’s not you.
It’s not Who You Are.
It’s Who You Were
Perhaps,
Or Who You Could Be
Maybe
But right now,
Today
Who You Are is Who You Choose To Be.
Who do you choose to be?
