SPRKS IN CSF: into a Veiled uncertain future

SPRKS IN CSF: into a Veiled uncertain future: the future of nations is echoed in the footfalls of its women.( pc3) Noor (a short story) Mohamed walked across the room and put the pi...

SPRKS IN CSF: Nobel prize for peace

SPRKS IN CSF: Nobel prize for peace: This year's Nobel Peace Prize has been awarded jointly to three women - Liberian President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, Liberian Leymah Gbowee and...

SPRKS IN CSF: palestine statehood , saudi women votes....victims...

SPRKS IN CSF: palestine statehood , saudi women votes....victims...: " Women in Saudi Arabia are to be given the right to vote and run in future municipal elections, King Abdullah has announced ." This did c...

thoughts on PTSD

Stored away days

I walked barefoot in my childhood,

A longing to feel the wet sand,

As they squished under my heels,

A child I was -  then, youth bulged my seams,

My alertness, my thoughts,

All condensed to one-,ME,

Life condensed to waste at its edges,

Yet I forget life’s many nuances,

Some I wish to push into oblivion,

Yet they pursue me ceaseless,

Now as I read, molecules of the mind,

I glance ,stare even , to past, future,

All entwined in  today…

Attempt to find an overall scheme to life,

Sigh at what was laid to waste,

Just to appease some wrathful demi-god,

Obliged demi-gods or demons; all to survive…

Tomorrow, I leave again,

To gather up some dusty memories, as I lunch with friends,

All to enliven a youth again, though briefly,

As my alerting networks awaken in memories,…

A gladness, a lightness in my steps, for stored away days

But beneath them lie yet some—

They poke their brazen tendrils in nightmares,

In startles grown to stiffness,

Yes, they poke through ,even so far removed,

At times to lay heavy as a mantle again.

In memory of...

In memory of...
 As I pass the drive way, I realize Barbara, you have become a memory  once again, only now it has to remain so. On some crisp day in september, so long ago, you were there  as just a faint memory, an extension of a description that came alive as my daughter described her day. Then you became imprinted in my tenuous memory as Max's mom, and as descriptions flowed so you filled into them ..she who got her off from the bus one day, who got her on the bus yet another time, one who helped her cross the street, who helped  get fluffy from under the deck,...As the days progressed and my days blurred into nights to re-awaken as mornings, Barbara you became a glimpse , who waved as she walked max to the bus stop.Then . I passed you with a quick wave, all the while looking at the clock, speeding on with the trepid realisation that I would be late for work again, yet I never thought that some day it would be too late to say aloud many a thought, say how your  little acts made such a difference in each of our days.
Thoughts have a way of crowding into our mind some times, almost to spilling over uncalled, yet sometimes they  hold  off from taking any form,just staying tenous , amorphous...
One day as the leaves shivered on the oak outside my window, I woke with a distinct thought that I wanted to talk to you...a thought that stayed just nudging at the edges of my mind, sometimes filling  it to the brim, yet I tarried.
Now I want to think , nay I almost understand that  you probably knew,you probably understood all that was left unsaid.
I had wanted to say thank you for every little kind act...all those times when it made a difference in the turns of all our lives,like the time you drove my son for an exam when the bus did not come on time, like the time when my daughter could be safe,  or that time when you just talked to my oldest one, or just those times when your words of encouragement sustained me.
Sometimes I look back at life and realize how a small act by another held such a momentous impact, though quietly they changed the course of our lives so.
So thank you for being there freind, neighbor, keeper of life's sanctity.

SPRKS IN CSF: enviornmetal woes

SPRKS IN CSF: enviornmetal woes: Plant losses threaten world's food supplies ...I read the headline tucked away at the science and enviornment section as I scan the paper b...

SPRKS IN CSF: Loss (short story by pc 3 )

SPRKS IN CSF: Loss (short story by pc 3 ): "Loss is part of life, my therapist had said three months ago as we considered ending therapy with a plan to go back if I felt the need. He h..."

SPRKS IN CSF: lost

SPRKS IN CSF: lost: "Just a single moment can change all future moments. There I was recalling some random events from few weeeks ago, and how I felt for my sis..."

SPRKS IN CSF: Fathers day--day for fathers, mothers, and others...

SPRKS IN CSF: Fathers day--day for fathers, mothers, and others...: " Fathers day.... All the push by the outside to bring attention to fatherhood( and commerce), has me thinking of my father, I have come to ..."

SPRKS IN CSF: 1967 borders

SPRKS IN CSF: 1967 borders: "Dont confuse the possibilities of the future or consider them mistakenly as the lies of the past, in both lie a thread of truth binding them..."

SPRKS IN CSF: Shadow world (short story by p c 3)

SPRKS IN CSF: Shadow world (?concussion short story  by p c 3 ): "I drove past the high school, slowly sipping the coffee, trying to keep the aroma alive as it dissipated in little curly wisps. Beyond the ..."

SPRKS IN CSF: 1967 borders

SPRKS IN CSF: 1967 borders: "Dont confuse the possibilities of the future or consider them mistakenly as the lies of the past, in both lie a thread of truth binding them..."

The Deficit, actually

The Deficit, actually
 Three hurt after Houston boy, 6, brings gun to school......Two six-year-old boys, including the one who brought in the gun, and a five-year-old girl were injured, all in the feet....

...A US air traffic controller has been suspended for watching a film when he was supposed to be monitoring aircraft, in the wake of a series of reports of controllers sleeping at work....

These two  lines caught my eye as I scrolled  through the news headlines.  Are these stories related,may be. I feel  they simply fall in that long drawn out deficit we have now, a deficit to delay an immediacy , that entitlement colored impulse with a tinge of  disdain for innate or otherwise imposed rules---that guiding pull some call a moral sense.
Let us review it from a different angle, the forgotten angle lost in the shock value that the media go for. A six yr old child  had access to a gun(no shock of that in the news), he had dared to take it to school,managed to stuff it somewhere to have that in school.  He too, like all the shows he probably watch ...those  that inflates the greatness of show-biz, show off in the school cafeteria ,a big public setting...the thrill of others shock value by his actions is not lost to him. Then the unexpected turn ...he gets hurt,now he is in the news....really!

The US air traffic controller,  happened to be fired ,because he got caught...similar behavior, more controlled. He may feel entitled to that behavior,I guess. Unlike his colleuges who fell asleep, my sympathy is not wasted here. On an aside note,wouldn't it be wonderful to have assigned " nap breaks for all sleeplost employees all around"  -gratifying and kind would describe it...
We have a national debt that keep on growing.  The wrestling parties(republicans or democrats) cannot find a compromise, because  America has a ballooning great entitlement as its identity .
There is a lot more internal  debt that  grows in our souls as we scuttle to keep our accountability under wraps.May be it is time we took a long hard look within ,each of us , just to figure out if there is ...may be room for, say  a slight improvement...just a hope , that is all.

into fiction

into fiction
I have been re-reading the book, Nairobi to Shenzen,  the act of re- reading a book gives it a different glow and slant.It appears that each time there is a shift in a character's behaviors, you kind of see yet more nuances, wether intended or not. The first time around it was a quick read, with a  mantle of troubles, of lives, and such. I have come to the point where  time tears apart lives, shredding  all seccure feelings in its wake. It is un-canny that this seem to occur,wether in a book or in real lives at that point of a day when most people are at their deepest in sleep .That is when  the violent gets active . Since then, I have closely heard and recalled similarities. May be there is something to that hour between 3 am and 4 am.May be it has to do with Melatonin level differences in the two groups of people, may be the greivences of life seem to come to spill over into an explosive state at that time for the aggressor. The sad part is there is no escape for the victim at that time...you wake up confused and can't even put a pre-planned avoidance or escape into a coherent act. If this is all a correlate of Melatonin cycle, then it is like you are from two differing worlds, with such a differences in your hormone systems, as well.-ie. all systems--adrenaline, insulins, sugars ...all on different planes. Probably the SupraChiasmatic Nucleus's inherant oscillations determins our lives, only it is not just my SCN, but those of others .
As a child my fear of monsters and such were for that witching hour.The scary stories by those around you did not help. Thank god they were not gory, like those doing the circuits in the American childhood now. The owls hooted around that time and all scary stories collapsed into that pre dawn time. The night dwellers(rakshsas)were out preying on unsuspecting sleeping forms of day beings...all portrayed as good or bad,no grey zones there . I guess the awareness of danger lurking in the dark,with dark forms prowling , be they ghostly or real always  crests in that pre-dawn hour. It is easier to accept the night prowlers in the animal world as the natural order you come to understand.The morning brings the visual ,sometimes even good food,-chicken or duck.There is a certain safety when it is clear and  natural  to you.
But in your adult  home, it collapses you into a frozen being , immobile awaiting execution, to be re-done over and over...There again the real victims are the children who carry a lifelong burden, hardening their weight with each step.

U N staff --tragic casuality

UN staff killed during protest in northern Afghanistan....

At least seven foreign UN workers have been killed after protesters stormed a UN compound in the Afghan city of Mazar-e Sharif.....

The compound was set alight as hundreds protested over the burning of the Koran in a US church last month........

TheUnited States stands apart from many other Western democracies in priding itself on a near absolute commitment to allowing freedom of speech.
protest....suddenly turned violent
 Thus go the shocking headlines,  side notes and pundits opinions ,ongoing.
The forgotten  part is lives are lost. Many  embers are kindled to burn , fanned by non-leaders who want to play leader.What do they care? Of course there are the willing lean to's who have either sold their humanness , or are incapable of  rationality who become followers.
Some think extreme ideas and view points score them points with one god or another. Until the time when majority of mankind  obtain a concience transplant , that can sustain compassion  within them, these atrocities are bound to continue.The question is what do these religious zelots carry in place of their souls.

Autism--a language lost in translation?

Autism--a language lost in translation?
My first encounter with an autistic person had  bewildered me.My thoughts of that time is too blurry for recall. It could have been confusion on my part, for what I thought were actions with no purpose; a script to a play I did not understand. Locked in  is probably  another way to describe, eventhough that would not be accurate,but close. This being autism awareness month, I figure there are many efforts to help, and understand. Over time, I have come to understand that each person with a diagnosis of autism, has their own personality , not to forget that there is a wide array of severity...differing gradations and colors to the specteum .Differing events , a lot more than on average,is stress ful. The difficulty is not knowing what, or when in the past a thorn of stress really pierced into that mind.. To discount each individualist actions, to just group them to a diagnosis or catogory is to forget the individual, yet plays in to the biases we have assimilated over our time . To reassess our thoughts and ideas, especially as they do not fit a mold is after all necessary for progress, in the real sense.
I for one is trying now to understand the nuances of a languge locked away,long forgotten to be recovered, focusing on the person, who may feel just as stuck as I am. Still we connect, just that it is at different planes, sometimes parellal ones. Every little meeting point beyond the stuck , brings with it a sense of hope .

Earth Hour

Earth Hour
 There is the urge to do something, more accurately an innate need to act. Out of this it seems we have decided to memorialise Earth for an hour;some how to allay all or any guilt for some.For yet others it seems to be the need to be part of the current trend, despite the force of habits that come up before and after that hour to compensate for that lost hour of power use.I am not discrediting the impact, just thinking how little it really is. It is almost like how things lean as you course down on an incline,unsure of your footing you try to  grasp at any shoot or branch as you go downhill.
This seems to be where our inner distress drives us. That inner distress massed up seem to have drawn up in various patterns, as seen by behaviors of groups all over the globe in various forms recently. Still the need to make  any real change in a set of  behaviors ,ie concious and aware changes, are not present. So then what do we have...repetitions , be it in food habits, consumptions or interactions . We just repeat a few set of combinations,create new rituals ,some times hail them for a while even as we rail at other's rituals. Each time we hope to come up with a new set of results. How is it possible if no sustained change is made, that we can have a new and wonderful result set.
Earth hour is past. Now we can hail our virtual succeses, while some of us go on, hoping, one item more recycled, or a random turned off light would  make some difference...hoping again in the face of many realities, that yet another may become aware beyond self.

War ,by any other name

War ,by any other name
The ugly head of war has started its rythmic moves.Here is a reason- 'The public is getting restless, lets get some games going in the arena...so we can forget about things that bother in our daily lives'. How can we forget the entertainment value, something that the kingdoms of the past used with much pomp and fanfare. Some  places still do , after proper blessings and prayers and what not.. many regions in the world could use it, esp. to avoid thought. Think of the Roman empire.Thought can be dangerous especially , the kind that looks back, sometimes delve deep--all uncomfortable at any  which way you slice. So now we have elaborate names, catchy phrases, all for the war theater.
Collateral damage, hey its just them...those others...them lowly humans, over there.

Japan

Japan
Help those who suffer---click on the link to choose how to do so...peacewinds
I fear my old dreams, as they turn to premonitions,
Of events, that I could never think,
As events come ,aware I become,yet far...
I fear to sleep, lest I dream again.
Still fear is just a phase,
A haunt of pasts, futures all fused to my present,
Monsoon clouds or shamaals that bite,
May be uncertain of days ...
I gather up my soul and slumber
Perchance just to forget,
All from lives past or yet to be
I feel part of Japan ,never knowing why.
In my soul that knowledge hides
Only to flit in my subconcious
Or to stay as a deep ache...

SPRKS IN CSF: Japan on my mind

SPRKS IN CSF: Japan on my mind: "I cannot bring myself to watch the devastation. I turn away from the news ,all networks , Turn inwards...into the depths of my mind; I ..."

SPRKS IN CSF: ABQAIQ in a dream

SPRKS IN CSF: ABQAIQ in a dream: "I watch the news, more to comfort, that the events are far. Despite that my sleep is restless. I canot forget an old nightmare, from 16 yrs ..."

Markings of change

Tahrir square cairo:
As the day melded  in with past-emotion suppressed days, folding  into connectedness of minds the world watched change happen. I could not seperate those whom I knew  from the milling crowds that I saw on my TV screens if they were there. Only their passionate attachments and views came alive once more, the earnestness of the few I had come across in my past.
It struck me that  mostly we really never care to know anyone else , here in the west, but just put out a format , catogorize all to fit that format as we run through life . Hence we are disadvantaged, and fail to notice that communities have roots that intertwine and  run deep. The emotional connections that stabilise lives to spark change come as a surprise to most people here. We continue to hold out our cue cards as if  different parts of  the globe, nay universe should function on these cues.
Then we shake our head to allay the discomfort of limited awareness and move to the next inane thing that catches our attention.
However if only we could care enough to look deeper , then may be we can create some positive change that come with  mutual respect--yes change stemming from mutual respect that start in our families and spread farther  and farther each day. For that we have to accept the "other"I guess.