TRUST

 

 

My thoughts are hazy.

Sleep last night was interrupted.

 

A premonition of sorts?

Maybe just a reminder of what needs to be done.

 

They say it's all about the timing of things.

Is there ever a right time or perfect timing?

 

More often than not, one just has to trust.

Trust in the not knowing.

 

Trust in the uncertainty.

Best of all, trust in him up there.

 

Somewhere in the sky behind the haze,

Someone is watching over me.

 

This I trust 100%.

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Endless Palaver

"What do you mean, it's wrong? In ethics we learned that the truth is always subjective!"


There can be no doubt that the teaching of correct written English has never been for the faint-hearted. So much so that the forensic parsing of paragraphs, once key to a grasp of the nuts and bolts of structure, has been abandoned in favour of an approach that appeals to mystified students. ('Syntax', if mentioned, means confiscation of your iphone for Instagramming during lessons, or swearing the dog wolfed your homework three nights in a row, else being despatched to 'iso' for testing the resilience of technology hardware.)

Overheard:

Beleaguered teacher, reaching for a one-size-fits-all solution: Remember, if it sounds right, it likely will be right!

Surely somebody, in the course of the lady's schooling, should of pointed out this is horse feather's and as such, obvs, its defo not on? Nor is the absence of full stops exceptable, irregardless of the need for fluency and spontaneity. Your asking the class to believe that King Charles I walked to the Whitehall scaffold twenty minutes after his head was severed. It puts Goves meddling in the shade, while the bloopers of split infinitives and ending sentences with prepositions have long been out of court. Of course, theres little way of knowing where to put commas if you haven't tangled with adjectival and adverbial clauses.

It's no good blaming the teacher, though. Her's is an unenviable task and she probably didn't receive adequate tuition either. Plus, the possessive pronoun can sometimes seem a tad illogical.

Just because spurious expressions, misspellings, muddled concepts and random punctuation, or none, have passed into common usage, it doesn't make the situation okay. Too wrong's don't make a right. You know it! Daily, we're bombarded with words. Habits spread like an epidemic, even infecting those who know better.

Many argue that language is a living thing. It is evolutionary. But do we really want to deconstruct the enlightenment conferred by education and inspired achievement which are the foundations of a civilised society and have forged the better part of it? It's not about Me and My view of the world, it's about objective, consensual values and disciplines in the interests of everyone's wellbeing. How we regard language has a direct effect on behaviour. The hierarchy within it helps us form appropriate responses to any given set of circumstances. The choice to ignore it is, ultimately, a vote for anarchy.

We are at a pass where the world turns on hearsay.

People, this is no mere plea for shunning 'smoke and mirrors' jargon and the adoption of 'techspeak' where it doesn't apply. Such august authorities as Fowler, Strunk and White, Joseph Priestley, William Cobbett, not forgetting Dr Johnson, toiled tirelessly to prevent literary corruption, all with a view to clear communication at home and abroad and the democratic right to an education. Their design was to enhance culture, identity, and grant a voice in global affairs. Language is a means of breaking down complex and nuanced ideas, sensations, beliefs, into comprehensible chunks and stringing them together in a new pioneering way for the benefit of mankind. It's what creates cohesion between peoples. Even dialects are part and parcel of this, with their picturesque idioms that tell of historic experience.

The rules of grammar are analogous to those of building. You can't go wrecking the superstructure, else the house will fall down, the street will fall down, the city will crumble and the nation will be consigned to the annals of doom.

We shall be back to cave-dwelling and monosyllables. Ug! 

No joking!

 

 

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Smitten!

In the South of France.

Second time around, the love gets stronger!

Thousands of miles away, her mind is able to switch off from reality.

Her heart beats with excitement each waking moment.

Oh! how the smell of the ocean invites delight!

There is no ending, only beginnings.

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Clarity

 

Struggling to break free from a toxic work life, 

I've forgotten what a quiet moment sounds like and feels like.

Staring at the window and watching the sunrise,

Today I find myself sitting at my work station alone.

Alas! this moment of silence reminds me of my core.

Not all is lost, just at a standpoint in between crossroads.

The next steps are beginning to clear.

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New Moon, New Month

The crescent of a new moon is slowly emerging through the darkening sky.  A pale silver at first, now with a bright, almost golden glow.  A waxing new moon.  A middle-aged lady in the flat down the corridor, when I was growing up in France, taught me how to distinguish the moon quarters.  "Just hold up an imaginary stick against the moon," she said. "If it forms a P, then it's premier – first, so a waxing moon.  If it forms a D, then it's dernier – last, a waning moon." 

 

Tonight, my imaginary P has a very straight, perfectly vertical stem.   

 

My grandmother would have smiled and said, "It's going to be a sunny month."  She always checked the new moon and, depending on the inclination of the crescent, would predict the weather, or at least the chances of rain.  The more vertical, the least chance of rain, the more inclined, the more likelihood of a wet four weeks.  If it lay practically flat, with its tips sticking up, then don't even think of leaving the house without an umbrella.

 

The funny thing is, her predictions always came true.  In the thirty-five years since I left my family home, it has never occurred to me to check for myself.  I wonder if the English moon follows the same pattern as its French and Italian counterparts.

 

I have always found the moon inspiring and soothing.  I love the delicate, golden sliver of a curve promising new beginnings, and I love moonbathing in its bright, silver fullness.  I once had a bedroom where once I month I went to sleep with the curtains open and the full moon shining brightly in my face, making me feel safe and deeply at peace.

The moon for me is indisputably female.  I don't know what Eric Maschwitz was thinking when he wrote the line "Poor puzzled moon, he wore a frown" in A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square.  I can't see any Man in the Moon.  Only a kind, understanding, maternal smile that says Sleep peacefully, I'll watch over you.

 

At school, during maths classes, I would sometimes write sonnets or free verse in honour of the moon.  I spent summer nights in Rome lying on a sun lounger, staring up at the moon.  If I'd had to choose between the sun and the moon, I would have sworn allegiance to the moon without the slightest hesitation.

 

When I was much younger and brazen, I would sometimes tell people who insisted on my defining my accent that I originally came from the moon.  Didn't they know there was life there that couldn't be detected by machines? Of course there was.  Everybody lived in houses made of crystal, with roses and honeysuckle climbing up the walls, and musicians playing the lute to lull you to sleep every night. 

 

In recent years, I have steadily been moving towards the sun camp.  Hardly surprising after over thirty years in a country where the sun, far from being a rude imposition, is rather an overly tactful visitor constantly anxious about outstaying its welcome.  Now, I rush out to catch ever sunbeam I can.

 

And yet the moon is splendid tonight.  So slender, so straight.  I remember my grandmother's words.  I must pay attention to the weather this month.

 

Scribe Doll

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Latest Comments

Virginia M Macasaet Clarity
21 September 2019
In this age of technology, the workplace has become cold and robotic. At my middle age, I struggle ...
Rosy Cole Smitten!
14 September 2019
But who is she? :-)
Katherine Gregor New Moon, New Month
09 September 2019
I'll bear that in mind for next year :–)
Rosy Cole New Moon, New Month
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