Paris: Perfect Hope through Wild Cruelty

Its difficult to keep a sober heart in times when we see more gravestones than horizons, and those dreadful scenes in Paris barely a week ago, has made that foul brew of tragedy more bitter. More soul crushingly dark. It would be all too easy to mould our hearts into fists of vengeance and get lost forever in a carnival of blood and anger.
Fortunately the descent into chaos is slowed by exceptional souls. People like Antoine Leiris, a Parisian who penned an open letter to the terrorists telling them that they will not win his hatred. The achingly sad letter has gone viral on social media, and gives us a glimpse hope in purest form. I have read it five times now and each time the reading forges what feels like solid tears anew. I won't copy it all here because I feel that would somehow intrude on his Facebook post but here is a snippet:

"I saw her this morning. Finally, after nights and days of waiting. She was just as beautiful as when she left on Friday night, just as beautiful as when I fell hopelessly in love over 12 years ago. Of course I am devastated by this pain, I give you this little victory, but the pain will be short-lived. I know that she will be with us every day and that we will find ourselves again in this paradise of free love to which you have no access."

And I am crying again now. Such a beautiful force to make the darkness tremble! A lone voice among the fiery bones of despair. Pure hearted spirits like Antoine Leiris are truly the lifeforce orld needs to crush evil, keepers of a diamond light that can, and will, banish send hatered howling into the void.

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Antoine Leiris. Your strength and courage brings hope with the power of a tempest. No words of mine can ever describe the love. Godspeed your healing.

Sympathy For The Devil

Tamping mun!

After reading a few myths and legend stories recently, I have come around to wondering whether or not we may have got it wrong about the devil. Don't believe me? Check out the story behind the Devil's Bridge in Ceredigion for example. Local legend has it that 'ol Forked Tail built the bridge since the task was too difficult for mere mortals. So a deal was struck for the devil to knock up a bridge on the proviso that he would receive the soul of the first person who crossed it. Poor chap. (My local Chamber of Trade would never have allowed THAT deal *smiles*)
But alas the devil never did get his soul because he was tricked by an old lady. Seems she threw some crusty bread onto the newly built bridge, which caused her dog to go after it (who doesn't like crusty bread?) thus making it the first life to cross the 'Devil's Bridge'. What happened then is unknown but I should imagine the fallen angel looked a tad cross and muttering, "curses! Foiled again!" To himself as he walked away soulless.
And there are a lot of other similar tales of Satan, the supposed 'great deceiver' being hoodwinked by some wily mortal (usually an old crone or beggar.) Could it be that the Horned One is not as shrewd as he is made out to be? His wickedness is not in question but be that as it may, Mr Jakes wouldn't fear him in a game or six (six six) of poker.

A Good Promise

Death lurks in the shadows. It plots and plans, then pounces to maim and kill. To destroy and take away any scrap of happiness you may have. To ruin thy life, that is deaths aim in this world (but not the next.) It wants to take away your fun and replace it with black holes of mourning. Death has no heart as it showed yet again last night when news of the dreadful bombing of the Boston marathon was announced to the world. And the very spirit of death walked tall, blooming in its macabre cloak, prowling amidst a horrified and bloodied crowd of thousands.
But do you know what stood taller? What shined brighter than a million diamonds adrift at the foot of the ocean? It was human. Those brave folks, who after the explosions had spread their miserable carnage, went out and tended to the dying and grievously wounded without care for their own skin. Those bent figures were not bowing at all! Evil must never forget this. All of those figures were shards of good, the un~killable good, who after receiving a body blow will shrug it off and gather its pieces (the mortal flesh) to heal and live again.

Good will always triumph over evil for you cannot break the human spirit.

Love from Tombs and Ghosts

There was an article in The Watford Observer over Christmas that told of a ghost that was supposedly hanging around a theatre hall. (Haunting I guess you'd call it, I like to describe it more 'street'. The word 'haunting' is so Victorian.)
Here is an excerpt:

'the hall may possibly house a real spirit. Apparently, several people, including the caretaker have experienced some ghostly goings-on there. The voice of a young girl has been heard on several occasions over the years. The voice, which seems to be just in the next room, greets them with a simple ‘Hello’. Rest assured, all who have reported the presence have maintained it is not frightening.'
@The Watford Observer

And this clanged my eerie bells. (The ones covered in cobwebs and midnight oil.) We shouldn't be afraid of spirits, ghosts, incorporeal ones, whatever. Afterall aren't they just the ones of US who have slipped beyond the veil? What the gravewax have we got to be frightened of?

We come in peace

Yeah I get how wandering downstairs to fetch a snack at 2am and suddenly bumping into a ghostly apparition, perhaps cheekily checking out the freeview softporn on your 50" plasma, would startle anyone but after the initial shock what is there to fear? Its more than likely just the spook who owned your house one hundred years ago, and he/she is probably more suprised than you (if only at your hideous taste in decor and the quality of porn these days.)
I believe in ghosts, my mind isn't a stubborn, shrivelled, old peanut and therefore it is open to such beliefs. Good lord, certainly there is a spirit world. I KNOW it. (And im not talking television medium trickery jiggery.) If you don't believe in such things things, fine, stop reading this and go smoke a joint and watch some obscure comedian or listen to jazz. The sardines will keep you warm.
Anyway before I get totally sidetracked; I believe in spirits, and I also believe them to be harmless, peaceful souls who harbour no grudge nor malice toward us. So why in the (after)world would my legs turn to jelly and beard go white (I have no hair on my head) if a ghost decided to suddenly appear behind my computer? Perhaps the dead (or not-so-dead as the case would be) jumping back into this world would be a little disconcerting, and seeing great aunt Peg after thirty years in the grave might be 'uncomfortable' at first but ultimately our fears ought to be reigned in.
If I expired here at this spot of the internet right now and discovered a way to pop back from the Other World for a quick visit (and maybe a swift whisky) I would come in love and peace'd out like a stoned hippy, not as some snarling demon.
My late grandmother saw a ghost once, on the stairs as she was retiring for the evening. She never spoke of it often (which is partly why I believed her story, those who spout it from rooftops are rarely sincere) but she did tell me that the spirit she encountered 'told' her not to be afraid. He didn't speak like you or I, he just made it known to my grandmother that he meant no harm.
My grandmother was a very dear lady, who didn't drink, smoke or swear (I must have been somewhat of a disappointment to her in those ways as I was devoted fan of all three) and eventhough a sober and clean life is not a guarantee of honesty, it certainly was with my grandmother. She wasn't one for lies and this again is why I have faith in a spirit world.
They are out there all right, and if there were more people like my gran in this world and less charlatans like television 'psychics' then I am certain we would be visited upon more often and many more people would believe.