There is something in ones DNA that calls us to the land of our ancestors, deeply embedded in our genetic make-up that tells us that our ancestors came from a far away land. A land if myths, legendary hero’s a land that calls to our spirit that there is a place besides the fireplace a warm place at the hearth kept for us.
A home far from where we live, a place that we forget a people dispersed across the planetary globe, once a small northern nation speaking a tongue that was not English, but a purer tongue not mixed with others until very late
Now our clans dispersed, our tongue forgotten even forbidden
Why should we blush like a new bride when exposed to her grooms warhead.
When we dare to speak out against those who prefer England and find to our surprise that the butcher of Caulldon has done his work when the people of Scotland use the word minority to describe their ancient tongue.
No what is to distinguish a Mac from a Smith or Jones when the Scottish try and be more English then the English.
Scottish wees and kens are nae Gaelic, and when a child of Scotland says I have no Gaelic.
That’s like a Frenchman saying I was born in France but I don’t know how to speak French.
Tha rudeigin ann an fheadhainn DNA gun gairm dhuinn gu tìr ar sinnsearan, freumhan domhainn ann an ar dèanamh ginteil a tha ag innse dhuinn gun robh ar sinnsearan a thàinig bho cho fada air falbh fearainn. Tha am fearann mura h-uirsgeulan, sgeulach ghaisgich fearann a ‘gairm gu ar spiorad gu bheil àite a thuilleadh air an teallach chridheil àite aig na cagailte air an cumail airson thugainn.
A dachaigh fada bho far a bheil sinn a ‘fuireach, an àite gu bheil sinn a’ dìochuimhneachadh sluagh sgapte air feadh an t-saoghail planaidean, aon uair ‘s beag an ceann a tuath dùthcha a’ bruidhinn teanga nach robh Beurla, ach purer teanga nach measgta le feadhainn eile gus glè anmoch
A-nis sgapte againn cinnidhean, ar teanga Forgotten fiù ‘s a thoirmeasg
Carson a bu chòir dhuinn athaidh mar nuadh-phòsta nuair a tha fosgailte don a h-eich warhead.
Nuair a tha sinn a ‘Siuthad a’ bruidhinn a-mach an aghaidh an fheadhainn a b ‘fheàrr leat an Sasainn agus a lorg gus ar n-iongnadh gu bheil am bùidsear de Caulldon air a dhèanamh air an obair aige nuair a fhuair muinntir na h-Alba a’ cleachdadh an fhacail airson mion-innse aca seann teanga.
No dè tha eadar-dhealachadh Mac a ‘Ghobhainn bho no Jones nuair na h-Alba a’ feuchainn agus a bhith nas Beurla an uair sin a ‘Bheurla.
Wees na h-Alba agus tha kens nae Gàidhlig, agus nuair a leanabh na h-Alba ag ràdh Chan eil Gàidhlig agam.
Sin mar Fhrangaich Abairt Rugadh mi ann an Fhraing ach chan eil fhios agam ciamar a bruidhinn Fraingis.
Blaze a trail across the pages of history, do not embrace the herd mentality.
March to a different drumbeat, dance to your own music.
Do not conform to the accepted norm.
Dance in the rain, walk naked on the beach if you want, step into the gap, make a difference. Do not be a sheep, do not bleat in fear, rather shout your battle cry.
Let the pages of the ages tell of your great deeds.
Make them remember you. Fly like a shooting star across the pages of history, across the ages let your name ring true, bringing honour to all your house.
Don’t be a mouse, be brave, talk not of a noble death; for death is not noble, nor glorious just a messy and sad end to the spark of life which can burn so bright. Run like a a stallion
When in your last days as you lay gasping for one more breath and it is asked “Do you have regrets quietly say. No U have not, I have tried everything that I wanted to do, I have no regrets in some I was not successful and in others I was,
I rage not at the coming of my night.
My Star has burned brighter the universe is lighter for my having been here.
When death come do not hide in the grave yard where he will not look for you.
Rather stand in the gap one last time and when death approach be sure to check and you will see in his shadow he brings reinforcements for a life well lived and reinforced even death trembles and fears in the presence of such a life.
Now for the Gaelic Interpretation
Blaze slighe air feadh na duilleagan eachdraidh, chan eil gabhail an treud inntinn.
Màrt gu eadar-dhealaichte drumbeat, dannsa ri ceòl agad fhèin.
Chan eil rèir slatan-tomhais a ‘gabhail ris àbhaisteach.
Dannsa ann an uisge, coiseachd rùisgte air an tràigh ma tha thu ag iarraidh, ceum a-steach a ‘bheàrn, a’ dèanamh eadar-dhealachadh. Cha bhi caora, chan eil bleat ann an eagal, an àite a bhith ag èigheachd ur blàr glaodh.
Leig an duilleagan a ‘aois innse do gnìomhan mìorbhaileach.
Cuimhnich iad air a dhèanamh dhuibh. Fly mar seilg rionnag air feadh na duilleagan eachdraidh, air feadh na h-aoisean leig ur n-ainm fìor fàinne, a ‘toirt urram do na h-uile taigh agaibh.
Cha bhi luchag, fearail, a ‘bruidhinn cha uasal bàs; airson bàs chan eil uasal, ni mò glòrmhor dìreach bùrachail agus deireadh duilich ris an sradag de bheatha a dh’fhaodas a losgadh cho soilleir. Ruith mar a Stallion
Nuair ann do làithean mu dheireadh mar a tha thu Lay gasping airson aon tuilleadh anail agus thathar ag iarraidh air “A bheil aithreachas gu sàmhach ràdh. No U chan eil, tha mi air feuchainn-uile rud a bha mi ag iarraidh a dhèanamh, feumaidh mi eil aithreachas ann an cuid cha robh mi soirbheachail agus ann an daoine eile a bha mi,
Sèididh mi nach eil a ‘tighinn mo oidhche.
My Star air a losgadh gealltanaiche na cruinne-cè a tha nas aotroime do m ‘an dèidh a bhith an seo.
Nuair a thig am bàs cha bhi falach anns an uaigh gàrradh far am bi e a ‘coimhead airson nach eil thu.
An àite seasamh anns a ‘bheàrn aon turas mu dheireadh agus an uair a’ bhàis a bhith cinnteach gu bheil dòigh-obrach gus dèanamh cinnteach agus chì thu ann am faileas aige fhèin e a ‘toirt shaighdearan airson beatha gu math beò agus a’ daingneachadh fiù ‘s bàs crith agus eagalan an làthair leithid de bheatha.
Copy write and protected by the individual intellect property acts and laws of South Africa 2016 all writes property of TB Wood / Sarejess/ Sarejessian .
The owner gives consent for reproduction of the above unreservedly under 1 proviso That due recognition be given with each reproduction.
In my heart I am thy suitor.
In my mind I know there is no chance or kind.
Oh, oh, they cry love is blind.
Bind up my wounded heart with thy kindness.
Take away my breath, lead me not to an untimed death.
Thou art the love of mine old age.
Like pink coloured ink on brown parchment.
Thou art the rising sun to my setting sun.
The light that rise before the dawn, when birds begin to sing.
NOW IN SCOTS GAELIC
Ann mo chridhe mise do tòir (bàrdachd mhèinn)
Ann mo chridhe mise do tòir.
Ann m ‘inntinn Tha fios agam nach eil cothrom no seòrsa.
Och, och, tha iad a ‘caoineadh gaoil a tha dall.
A cheangal suas mo chridhe leòn le do chairdeas.
A thoirt air falbh m ‘anail, a’ leantainn orm nach do untimed bàs.
Tusa gràdh mo shean aois.
Like dath pinc air inc dhonn parchment.
Tusa a ‘ghrian ag èirigh gu mo ghrian.
Tha an solas a tha ag èirigh an làthair an camhanaich, nuair a chaidh eòin a ‘tòiseachadh a’ seinn.
Black sheep of the family & dyslexia a lifetime
As far back as I can remember I have been the black sheep of my family.
Now this is not a pity party it is just the way it is. Ill list the facts & reasons why & you can decided for yourself.
1.) I in no way shape or form conform to members of my father’s side of the family. Who for the most part are down to earth hard working artisans, mechanics, and folk from that sort of lifestyle.
These folks qualified in the usual way after finishing school and going on to complete the required qualifications in their field’s of interest.
The people from my mother’s side of the family are more intellectuals and they also happen to be proud people who do not accept into their ranks new family members who are odd or different with very few exceptions.
The exception been the family of my aunt Estele Swart and uncle Trevor Swart, who have always accepted me without reserve and for this I am forever thankful.
Further the members of my mothers family competed school and went on to qualify in their fields of interest at university and then out to make their fortunes.
My father left school at an early age because he needed to support his family (the only book I ever saw him read was his Bible).
I AM A DYSLEXIC THANK GOD FOR MS SPELL CHECK
Now having given the broad outline let me begin to deal with specifics.
Because of my particular disability (dyslexia coupled with & not bragging a high IQ & frustrated by a world of discrimination against people with disabilities.) Life in general has not been easy because earning or trying to earn a living, having a secure place in the world has never been easy. I would ask you to imagine if you will a world where you are discriminated against because of something you cannot do because of your disability, every job interview you go to you are turned away because of a failure to be able to communicate 100% correctly in a written format, Because you look normal nobody thinks there is anything wrong with you other than you are lazy and don’t want to find a job or work at a career.
Nobody knows the pain of been rejected like a dyslexic be cause you can’t read, because you don’t or cannot apply the rules of grammar correctly, because your By &D’s are something reversed because I, a, e, u, o, y, are interchangeable and you can’t tell the differences.
Someone said not so long ago that dyslexics are manipulative and will always try and manipulate a situation to their advantage, this is true only because life the universe and the non mutants have made us so. Because in forcing dyslexic to live on the edges of society you (collectively) have made us self-reliant and hard to the suffering of others and determined to make the best of life that we can.
In doing this we who have lived and live among the normal people have to hide certain things which we are ashamed of because we are embarrassed by what we have had to do to survive in society adapted to change, carried resentment around in our hearts all our days because we know that had society not placed academic requirements above the human element we would have achieved so, so much more on a leave playing field.
One of the most annoying things for me personally when I mention that I am dyslexic is the very next person will say or comment with “so am I” (funny thing about been dyslexic is you learn at an early age how to spot a bullshiter after all we are past masters bullshitters).
The point of this is right now everyone and their dog is climbing on the dyslexia bandwagon and admittedly it is about time something was done for the young dyslexics so that they can be part of a normal society, however this is only a part of the problem for more than 40 years I have personally lived the life of a dyslexic and have had to do a lot of the things described above with no help from society. Mark well that I am not talking about handouts but rather constructive steps to correct the injustice of the past against countless real dyslexic’s who have been discriminated against.
When placed in school’s for special needs children which in the 1970’s we we’re promised jobs as artisans I.e builders, carpenters, Metalworks etc, these jobs were never forthcoming our qualifications meant nothing, unacceptable to the job market both artisan and administrative very few options were available thus a lifetime of deception, manipulation was begun for many years I drifted from one job to the next, frustrated by the wasted time spent at repetitive task which meant absolutely nothing in the long run I developed a lot of hobbies to keep me mind occupied (admittedly I am not the normal type of dyslexic, I became interested in history, art, music, composition, writing, violin making, model ship building, invention, innovation and have invented various types of green devices including a recyclable candle maker (yes it works, it is green energy compliment and could have been invented when the candle was originally invented but I guess normal people don’t understand half the uses of things they invented can be used for.)
I have watched people with learning disabilities and have wondered how it is possible.
People are like computers.
Some are like the old does based PC’s that could only do so much.
Others are like the old 386’s good for windows 3.11.
With a few who are like 386’s with crossover facilities that could run Windows 95.
Thus it confines upwards.
Occasionally there is a bit of software that is written for a later computer but will actually run on a lower level pc, it’s the same with humans.
That is the way it is it’s just life.
In the future will this age be remembered as the age that humans sat and looked at and worked on imagery windows?
As usual I well come debate, comments and discussion.
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During the blitz and the Battle of Briton it was required of everyone to cover up the windows to make it more difficult for the German bombers t poo drop their payload of death on Britain’s population.
If the same principal was applied to cities and countries that suffer a terror attack like the resent attacks in France, would it not make sense to apply the same principal as mentioned above with slight variations I.e. total shutdown of the media for the period required to apprehend the guilty, and deprive the terrorist organisations, the opportunity of using the shock and fear generated by the attacks as a tactic to gather support for their cause.
Secondly, all communication other than emergency services to be shut down to prevent the news spreading across social media, and deprive the terrorist using this as a tool to spread their message.
Allow internal communication but international communications must be none existent.
The reasons for this act mentioned above can be used in another far effective way by cutting off communication you are not only stopping the fear factor, but also knowing that terrorism will still try and get the message our will allow the security forces to pin point the attempts made by the terrorists to communicate there actions internationally, and help to quickly apprehend the guilty.
Parc chapitre un
Le Sterley du parc d’Oakland dans le comté de Surrey avait pendant longtemps été noblesse distinguée le premier Sterley à lever à la noblesse était monsieur John ayant été dans le service de la Reine Continue reading “”
I found it washed on to the beach on the incoming tide, one morning after a stormy night on which the wind had blow a gale.
The wind had howled around the lighthouse rattling all the shutters the oil lamp had been primed in the early afternoon the day before as the clouds began to build over the hills to the north. By 4pm the wind had begun to rise and the ran began to fall the light had faded and I lit the lamp the shuttles began there rotation the strong light beam cast itself out into the driving rain and dark occasionally the lightening flashed and the sound of thunder rumbling long after the flash of lighting had disappeared.
In I was looking out of the window and saw the ocean with 12 foot high waves and swells in which no boat could live in seas like this I thought and I prayed that we would not have to launch the boat that night.
I settled down to read a book besides the fire and drink a glass of brandy to warm my chilled body.
Life as a lighthouse guard was not easy.
I began read and grew comfortable besides the fire and soon fell into a doze.
Soon I was fast asleep I began to dream, I dreamed I was on the quarterdeck of a ship in the storm.
The ship was in trouble and most of the sails had been torn to shreds, the main mast was the only one left standing both the fore mast and quarterdeck mast had gone by the boards. The captain had given orders that the ship was to be abandoned. I clasped the small golden love locket of my wife in Port Elizabeth had given me and kissed it before climbing onto the life boat.
The waves we’re huge the night dark, with high seas running in the far distance the flash of Cape Reciffe lighthouse caught my eye.
We pulled hard on the oars to get away from the sinking ship when she went down if we were to close she would take the lifeboat down with her and us in it.
For a moment the ship tillted like a crazy milk bucket and then she was gone. A moment later the lifeboat was sucked under.
I felt the air been pulled from my lungs, the heavy coat pulled me down the cold ocean water began freezing my limbs as I struggled to free myself from the heavy coat
Some thing struck me and I remembered no more…
I awoke with a start the fire had gone out and the storm abated. I wondered down to the beach to see how things looked as I walked along the beach the soft wet sand under feet something caught my eye a small golden love locket.
The violin was invented in the second part of the 16th century.
The development and improvements made by Antonio Stradivarius and the Amati family further brought the violin and various other stringed instruments to a high level of perfection.
This is a collect of reminisces of my life – Events, observations, helicon days of Thunder & Wonder.
Retold in the style of an old man recalling his youth.