Elysian

This post by Chris Nicholas is well worth reading (right to the end!)

If you are someone who struggles to accept people who are different: try.
You just might learn something new, or even help to make the world a better or safer place.

Love is love. Human is human. And regardless of what some may wish to believe; we are equal. We are all valued. And we all connected.

The Renegade Press

Milk and honey have different colours, but they share the same house peacefully.

  • African proverb

One of the most defining moments of my admittedly short writing career came on December 20th, 2014 when I received my first death threat from a reader. The threat, received via email, was in response to an article I had written which drew comparisons between religious intolerance and a criminological model known as the Broken Windows Theory. Throughout the post, I suggested that the constant defamation of an ideology through misrepresentation and bigotry damages an individual’s perception of a subculture, and creates a rift in our society.

To illustrate my point, I spoke of the Islamic faith and the unjust insinuation that it is a religion defined by violence. I compared acts perpetuated by extremists as stones hurled through the windows of a beautiful monument in an attempt to damage its image and cheapen…

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Handfasting – a poem

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Handfasting_(Neopaganism)

Handfasting was very prevalent in the Hebrides, the Inner, and Outer, islands off the west coast of Scotland.

I had the unique privilege of living on St Kilda, a remote archipelago, some 45 miles West North West of North Uist, for several periods, mostly 6 weeks at a time. Stays sometimes proved to be longer, because access is always determined by the weather! In total, I spent some 8 months of my life there.

St Kilda has a strange hold on all who set foot there, rather akin to desert fever for anyone who has experienced true desert.

I follow a page, https://www.facebook.com/groups/St.KildaHebrides/ , on Facebook, dedicated to St Kilda, and, as part of advice being offered to a would be visitor, came across this poem written by Andrew Lane in 2009.

I do not know Andrew but, from what I’ve seen and read, feel that we would get on very well. He is a musician, so this may well have been written to perform. In any case, I hope that you find the poem at least a little interesting, especially those who may know nothing about the Scots, or their unique language.

Andrew has a lovely “lived in” face, and someone commented that it was obviously the result of someone’s advice:

“Smile a lot when you are young so that when you grow older, your wrinkles will all be in the right place”

THE HAND-FASTING

Oh, lassie, place your hand on mine, and Alastair will fetch the twine
And bind us at the wrist for aye, for this shall be our wedding day.

Bring the lassies from the wheel
To spin themselves a proper reel.
Bring the laddies from the loom
To weave a dance beside the groom.

Lassie, place your hand on mine, and Alastair will fetch the twine
And bind us at the wrist for aye, for this shall be our wedding day.

Bring the stoddart from the braes
And leave the hoggie to its ways.
Bring the fisher from the shore;
This man will be a boy no more.

Lassie, place your hand on mine, and Alastair will fetch the twine
And bind us at the wrist for aye, for this shall be our wedding day.

Set your creels upon the ling
And bow the fiddles till they sing.
Take the whistle from your poke
And pipe a tune for dancing folk.

Lassie, place your hand on mine, and Alastair will fetch the twine
And bind us at the wrist for aye, for this shall be our wedding day.

Set the bellyrive aboot,
And spread the meat upon the cloot.
Place the whisky pig beside
And you shall see the hand-fast tied.

Lassie, place your hand on mine, and Alastair will fetch the twine
And bind us at the wrist for aye, for this shall be our wedding day.

Stoddart – a herdsman. Hoggie – a young sheep. Bellyrive – a feast.
Cloot – cloth. Whisky pig – a whisky jar.

©Andrew Lane July 2009

 

Happy Burns Day

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If you’ve never read Rabbie Burns before, here’s a taster.

If you don’t know who he was, then you can glean a little information here:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Burns

The Soldier’s Return

When wild war’s deadly blast was blawn,

And gentle peace returning,

Wi’ mony a sweet babe fatherless,

And mony a widow mourning;

I left the lines and tented field,

Where lang I’d been a lodger,

My humble knapsack a’ my wealth,

A poor and honest sodger.

 

A leal, light heart was in my breast,

My hand unstain’d wi’ plunder;

And for fair Scotia hame again,

I cheery on did wander:

I thought upon the banks o’ Coil,

I thought upon my Nancy,

I thought upon the witching smile

That caught my youthful fancy.

 

At length I reach’d the bonie glen,

Where early life I sported;

I pass’d the mill and trysting thorn,

Where Nancy aft I courted:

Wha spied I but my ain dear maid,

Down by her mother’s dwelling!

And turn’d me round to hide the flood

That in my een was swelling.

 

Wi’ alter’d voice, quoth I, “Sweet lass,

Sweet as yon hawthorn’s blossom,

O! happy, happy may he be,

That’s dearest to thy bosom:

My purse is light, I’ve far to gang,

And fain would be thy lodger;

I’ve serv’d my king and country lang-

Take pity on a sodger.”

 

Sae wistfully she gaz’d on me,

And lovelier was than ever;

Quo’ she, “A sodger ance I lo’ed,

Forget him shall I never:

Our humble cot, and hamely fare,

Ye freely shall partake it;

That gallant badge-the dear cockade,

Ye’re welcome for the sake o’t.”

 

She gaz’d-she redden’d like a rose –

Syne pale like only lily;

She sank within my arms, and cried,

“Art thou my ain dear Willie?”

“By him who made yon sun and sky!

By whom true love’s regarded,

I am the man; and thus may still

True lovers be rewarded.

 

“The wars are o’er, and I’m come hame,

And find thee still true-hearted;

Tho’ poor in gear, we’re rich in love,

And mair we’se ne’er be parted.”

Quo’ she, “My grandsire left me gowd,

A mailen plenish’d fairly;

And come, my faithfu’ sodger lad,

Thou’rt welcome to it dearly!”

 

For gold the merchant ploughs the main,

The farmer ploughs the manor;

But glory is the sodger’s prize,

The sodger’s wealth is honor:

The brave poor sodger ne’er despise,

Nor count him as a stranger;

Remember he’s his country’s stay,

In day and hour of danger.

 

 

#RobertBurns #BurnsDay

Authentically Kenyan? — Safari Camp Life

This lady deserves a special place in the world of WordPress.

Do go and look at her blog. Laughter guaranteed, or your money back!

Sometimes some guests are so desperate for their trip to Kenya to be authentically African they lose all sense of perspective. Pointing at the bow and arrow hanging on the canvas wall; “Is that African?” At the hand-stitched, oversized leather-and-bead ceremonial necklace; “…and that?” Closely examining the stretched hide shield and rusted spears; “…what about this?” […]

via Authentically Kenyan? — Safari Camp Life