SPRKS IN CSF: 'Anon' at Gilgo

SPRKS IN CSF: 'Anon' at Gilgo: "support the UN's International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women.".... 'Anon"- I had imagined it...

SPRKS IN CSF: 'Anon' at Gilgo

SPRKS IN CSF: 'Anon' at Gilgo: "support the UN's International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women.".... 'Anon"- I had imagined it...

'Anon' at Gilgo

"support the UN's International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women."....

'Anon"- I had imagined it to be some  famous person, with so much credited to the name , until it collapsed under the factual knowledge of what it stood for...

But I am 'Anon', imperceptible like the air, stranded at the interlocks of a feather , I stay on the beach, in the air, in the spray, just there...

Some times, I am just in some ones thoughts, always 'Anon'....

  The waves lapped at the sandy beach, throwing up the sand, swirling memories of lives from the deep as it foams, form-less. Somewhere far in the Atlantic a storm churned and raged. The muddy foam slaps at  the shore, perhaps in its efforts to avenge the land.

Screams from somewhere on the shore leaned into the howling winds ,mixed into the spray and lost itself seamlessly into the universe.

One could say that the howling winds of the nights were all interwoven sounds- lives spilled into the vast oceans, periodically re-visiting the lands gathering up more of those into yet other storms; sounds of muted crying, heart wrenching sobs, screams of distilled fears and death , all woven into the air and sea, blowing over the land ,  to spill out as wind and waves...That may be why howling winds distress man and beast alike, moving all into hiding.

     Crisp air with the faint wisps of snow hung over ocean parkway. A stream of light pierced that darkness and turned right onto the driveway. She had met him at a bar some where in Queens. 

The only strand that clung to her memory was the curves of the SUV-sleek red Audi with break lights that glowed like red feathers..

Oaks island had a charm that lent itself to the scent of moneyed outcrops that varied between beachfront cottages and tidy little houses that nestled along that stretch of sand. Little marinas dotted the bay ,tidy boats swinging on the waves.

Her mind stayed  partly in queens- the bustling loudness interspersed with sweat and grime in the streets, where humanity's hopes and its hopeless pathos evaporated into the air .

The bar was loud and coarse with the pathos , for a brief moment she felt she had escaped into a higher plane, even as she knew it would be short...It was just life for the sake of living, You held those hopes -you took some and you lost some. Who indeed has any right to judge, about principles and rules, yes when life has to be lived with all its apathy and pathos that  churns up in the efforts for a grip at survival. 

She viewed her actions as momentary, but others may consider them consequential...A short sigh escaped into the cold air as those feather break lights disappeared into the garage . She was standing in the arc of a driveway. 

The air was chill and she shivered .He knocked on the glass panes of the window to get her attention. The front door opened and she floated in with her little silver purse by her side . The tap of her high heels echoed hollow through the house .

   Time has a way of sweeping out the present into the future, and at times it gathers up the past and dots the present with its ghosts. Yet it is this character of time which gives it that aura of undefinable ghost like quality...

She didn't have any way to define the present, except that she was in some floating cloud-

She was not sure of time or events any more, part was past, and parts present , real or unreal all mixed up and cloud like...

Yes, the Audi with break lights like red feathers, not some random dots or lines , glowing feathers , and its curves , graceful like the arched back of a nude sculpture...A room at the back...

The grey sports car purred to life and charged like a winged predator, all bared teeth and wings tucked by its side , as she ran into the sand bank...

  The air was crisp with snow falling in tiny wisps. The raw wind picked up and brought ashore the foam floating like scales of ash from the fire place where he burned her ID and things that mattered-there was a faded family photo tucked inside her wallet.. The wallet retained its shape in glowing embers , its charred form soon to crumble into flakes of ash to scatter like dandruff on the sand  as he threw it far.

All these forms have become a "non"

Nothing mattered any more as her screams were drowned out by the howling wind, her voice became part of the wind which will blow each winter howling against his conscience. 

Her choking gasps escaped raspy against the raw sea and died out like the embers at his fire place, as he pushed her  further into the water. 

The swaying lights of the beach houses and the line of the shore remained silent , as the air turned with her breath 

 (story by PC3- 11/25/18- ref- gilgo beach's lost)

Most Femicides occur in the homes, femicide  the ultimate violence against women

SPRKS IN CSF: Collective PTSD...just some thoughts

SPRKS IN CSF: Collective PTSD...just some thoughts: PTSD is a group of symptoms that affects individuals.  It may affect communities as a more collective response after disasters, However let ...

Collective PTSD...just some thoughts

PTSD is a group of symptoms that affects individuals. 

It may affect communities as a more collective response after disasters, However let me express my take on the world at large :there seems to be a recent phenomena that is akin to a collective PTSD like behaviors in communities  culminating in a wide array of symptoms that  seems to make people frozen in various ways in a collective sense. 

I am speculatively tunnel-scoping here, but it is more apparent to me that nations can collectively respond as if  large groups are affected by various PTSD symptoms , mostly in varying degrees .

There is trauma experience , and of course the whole world has experienced traumatic events , in fact people have had collective traumas experienced cumulatively, the most prominent and nearest being the pandemic . When you look back it seems that destabilizations that affects people elsewhere is collectively felt to a certain extent by all, more as a vicarious experiential event through the media news spin cycle , charging up their emotions . 

If one cannot separate the self from it , to look inwards to a point of calm within, the boundary of identity dissolves  and sense of self  feel assaulted , either affiliating with the victim or the aggressor or both in varying degrees at varying times... 

There is no  salve for the internal chaos that come from the absorptive external chaos . So what happens with this? Let's speculate using some of the symptoms described of PTSD, as if they are collectively felt .

The trauma triggers other recalls within the brain ( again what is one person's trauma is not necessarily the next persons' trauma or even trigger)

You feel triggered , which in itself  shows up as a variety of behaviors , thoughts or actions .You have flashes of events from the past which brings up irrational fears and loss of control.

You want to withdraw , you want to do something(right now) or just feel antsy, irate , so in an effort to calm those internal feelings , you surf the media some more, which gets you to more triggers. You feel no one is doing anything and blame a whole lot of people , still those triggers keep going and you feel ineffective  and frustrated ...your thoughts are no longer coherent as you are not able to differentiate where some events or thoughts end and others begin. You dwell on things and you stew , feeling less effective.

 As you withdraw more you also feel more disconnect, this leads to inaction , or wrong actions .You feel just dissatisfaction , and the outcome is more dissatisfaction and ' blaming the other'. Its always easy to target some others or whole systems instead of effectively managing what is within your control and reach, hence the effective actions to be taken are stifled and only chaos ensue . This internal chaos seeks out others and more chaos and disorganization in a group setting is then the outcome .

A community PTSD of this nature do not follow an identified trauma , hence it is even more  damaging for the whole community...

The collective effects are felt and internalized further and if each within the  collection of people do not try to quiet their minds  any loud mouth gets to spark and set off those wrong  actions, an avalanche of wrongs then comes forth with much disastrous consequences... There is need for leadership, strong leaders . They are not the loudest or wildest, but those with integrity of thoughts and calm thoughtful actions for the good of all in the collective group. It takes integrity and clarity of thoughts and actions to lead  and there are very few who are true leaders. 

(by PC-3 07/09/2023)

SPRKS IN CSF: SMOG

SPRKS IN CSF: SMOG:  This day dawns hushed, The red fruit of the haze Floats low on the horizon, Wisps of burnt nature smart my eyes, Nature's revenge ,its ...

SMOG

 This day dawns hushed,

The red fruit of the haze

Floats low on the horizon,

Wisps of burnt nature smart my eyes,

Nature's revenge ,its own singed skin;

Scars the earth though slow,

As you flay the forests bare in wider sweeps,

And soups the oceans in plastic,

Natures revenge , it coats my air.

Maybe I will remember it tomorrow,

May be I will stop to think again...

Poem by PC-3 (06/07/2023)

SPRKS IN CSF: Asthma, Flashbacks and Gods….

SPRKS IN CSF: Asthma, Flashbacks and Gods….: On  Asthma, flashbacks and Gods…. Flashbacks, they come un-invited. A little girl cowering under the covers, stuffing her shirt into her m...

Asthma, Flashbacks and Gods….

On  Asthma, flashbacks and Gods….

Flashbacks, they come un-invited. A little girl cowering under the covers, stuffing her shirt into her mouth to stop the sound that escape unannounced…Yet you fear ,trying to place a comforting hand on her, you fear that her attempts to gain air through the sobs will be heard beyond these walls, unleashing further wrath in the one in the next room. You again pray that sleep has  closed off that other parent in the next room.  Through her sobs she lets you know that which you and she knows inherently… “I cant help it, I am trying , but I cant stop crying”, and then bigger, deeper sobs…

The air that is trying to oxygenate the deeper far alveoli gets stuck, as the  mucus fills them, those airways stay tightly closed ,a wheeze is all that  can escape  along the interspace of those heart wrenching sobs…You silently pray, then you carry the frustration in you  that ‘God can’t hear’.

All the Gods cannot change is the reality before you, when humans choose to produce the suffering.

Natasha, Tony or Jana, none can escape that which is before them every day…that suffering, the suffering that which becomes part of them, they carry the weight of what they have seen and heard, they just walk one day to the next… Their lives are forever modified, they shake but no, that which left the scars deep within their minds can never be shaken off... Never will they shake off that heaviness…

Providence is just another misguided term for where the souls fall, who your caretakers in this life be , all set to chance  and that  same which  seals your destiny. As mothers, fathers, children and ancestors course through their lives, destinies are weaved in. Here we humans and all universe interconnect, all just a factor of chance …

By Pc-3(from around sept 2004)

SPRKS IN CSF: SPRKS IN CSF: A book I am reading

SPRKS IN CSF: SPRKS IN CSF: A book I am reading: SPRKS IN CSF: A book I am reading :  I opened the New York Times  Book review section , ready to toss it to the paper garbage , after-all I ...

SPRKS IN CSF: A book I am reading

SPRKS IN CSF: A book I am reading:  I opened the New York Times  Book review section , ready to toss it to the paper garbage , after-all I will never have the luxury of  time ...

A book I am reading

 I opened the New York Times  Book review section , ready to toss it to the paper garbage , after-all I will never have the luxury of  time to read. What is even the point of scanning at the grapes presented, preemptively knowing that they are going to be sour or just sit there and rot. Besides why spend thirty quid on some book that likely will looses flavor  in a few pages, just to add to the fattened pot of an author who when not writing  , may minister to the sick or infants of the profession ...thus went my thoughts as the page opened to the  heading 'family medicine '.

I scanned through the review, made a face and threw into the paper pile. In the evening as I made my next day's lunch ,a part of me go over to the paper pile  and read the review a little bit.

Some thing in the review irked me and I mutter to myself about 'some  Solomon guy who has no clue about places and people sit there and feel all mighty big  and judges a book's content...I bet he has nothing to do with India '  The phone rings and its my daughter...  so I express my annoyance about the reviewer . 

Thus I decide to buy the book and as I read , I am more annoyed at some random reviewer with no clue of the land or people or a past that is plausible( and true if you stitched together just the group of people and families  I knew in my infancy in a tiny village area ) had felt righteous to judge with his words . Move it another generation back and I see it all as really possible . The story flows and here I am reading it - the  covenant of water...

I change the names and move them like chess pieces and  I have my childhood vividly displayed  with all the dramatic flair of those days .There are  too many mishaps and terrible things  happen in the book, and possibly in a past not that far away , but  life did go on and people had an element of goodness and ethical ways to get through from one day to the next  as best as they could . I am not blind to the impact of caste system and the power of the landed over the poorer sections of the society , nor am I discounting that the corrupt systems' grapple-hold  and the powers be  created and made so much suffering , but the simple goodness despite it all in those around me is  what I recall . It has  changed now and  just like the dew drops  dies on a blade of grass ,the good in people have shrunk and the goodness dies daily and gradually... Just like the reaches of a cancer , quietly invading and eroding the goodness within people , in our Gods own country...yes God has been quietly slumbering , unable to heal our minds ,may be.

Back to the book - I am glad to be reading it , makes me skim to  the surface of a time that  at once makes me sad  and touched, for that which is gone  as it is part of the fabric of me... a person , part of my mind , my memories that makes me ,  the parts I hold dear  and those had moved me  through my life in times that would have felled some others under the strain it brought... I am glad to get back to that land through a book , so thank you book for getting to me through a confluence of chanced emotions and actions...I am certain some call that 'fate' and others call it 'god /deity in  action', but what ever name it carries  it chanced me to the book  and through that into a window that I can slide  into the past where with all the faults it was truly the land where God lived in its peoples minds perhaps..

by Pc-3 (05/15/2023)

SPRKS IN CSF: viewing

SPRKS IN CSF: viewing:  I am at once elated and concerned by the recent interest in my posts, I wonder who finds what I write interests them. (mostly I write... mo...

viewing

 I am at once elated and concerned by the recent interest in my posts, I wonder who finds what I write interests them. (mostly I write... more for myself) . I am glad someone reads them, hopefully not just a bot or AI generated readership. I am always hopeful that my writings are not used for creating suffering for anyone in the vastness of this world, however I am sure even my innocuous  words could shape and metamorphose into spears within some dark forces, hence my trepidation with the recent interest in my posts . If more good comes of it , then it will be gratifying that something that I wrote helped some one in some form. That all I have to say about the viewing of my random posts

( by pc-3   -05/03/2023)

SPRKS IN CSF: An Earth Day

SPRKS IN CSF: An Earth Day: The fog lifts  gently  as the land warms,  A log, once a tree, now on a journey, To oneness with dear Earth, I step, a poor judgment trip, O...

An Earth Day

The fog lifts  gently  as the land warms, 

A log, once a tree, now on a journey,

To oneness with dear Earth,

I step, a poor judgment trip,

On the ground, the earth smells me ,

Not mine to smell  the earth today ,gifts of  pollen, 

My nares' scourge , so reactive they block all scents ,

No breaks, no twists but for a bruised ego,

My fall cushioned on the softened leaves, 

Last fall's  gift to Mother nature, 

All nature  ,a gift for us too always

(poem by PC-3 -04/22/2023) 

SPRKS IN CSF: Three religions... The three monotheistic religio...

SPRKS IN CSF:  Three religions... The three monotheistic religio...:  Three religions...  The three monotheistic religions had started  their life in a region that had held human thoughts in where they all bre...

SPRKS IN CSF: Quiet

SPRKS IN CSF: Quiet: O little lamb, stay quiet just so; Not a peep, hold your bleat , a little while,oh do... The giant lumbers on the hills, A mantle of dus...

SPRKS IN CSF: SPRKS IN CSF: Reading books and my views

SPRKS IN CSF: SPRKS IN CSF: Reading books and my views: SPRKS IN CSF: Reading books and my views :  I am reading books again, as my days have spaces opened for them as I travel to see family. It i...

SPRKS IN CSF: Reading books and my views

SPRKS IN CSF: Reading books and my views:  I am reading books again, as my days have spaces opened for them as I travel to see family. It is on a whim that I bought the book 'Bra...