Death Wish?

Tags

bicycles, camouflage, country lanes, cycling, cyclists, danger signs, devon roads, hi viz, high visibility clothing, humorous, humour, motorcycling, motoring, narrow road, road safety, safety wear, satire, SMIDSY, Sorry mate, Yellow

Gosh! It was ages ago that I wrote about how evolution had provided certain species with protective colouration, either to protect themselves (usually from being eaten), or to warn others that they are a danger.

The post was about wasps and cyclists both wearing black and yellow so that they could be easily seen … and avoided.

What has happened since is proof that evolution is a continuing process – nothing to do with wasps, which continue to dress in their bright, fear inducing, warning colours – but cyclists. When I wrote the earlier post I lived in the city; streetlights, wide footpaths, and traffic at 30mph or less. Now I live in deepest, darkest Devon; rain, mist, tall banks, narrow lanes smeared with mud (and more!), tractors, trucks, and tourists.

The often lycra-clad lovies who either live in, or visit, the countryside have, by and large, evolved from the conspicuous, safety conscious, brightly coloured pestilence that you could see from afar, to a covert, secretive, and almost invisible camouflaged shape lurking among the shadows and hedgerows, revealed only by the occasional flash of LEDs, sheltering beneath a gel-padded saddle.

What has happened to the gaudy, hi-viz, eye-screechingly yellow tops? They have been replaced with, grey, green, brown, and black – and not on their own, sometimes in combination – an almost perfect match for their surroundings. The standard colour-scheme for the Devon countryside is … grey, green, brown, and black, usually in combination.

I try to understand this change. Why, when they are so vehemently desirous to taking claim of their entitled road-space, do they not want to be seen? Is yellow not this year’s colour?, Have they become too shy to be seen? Have cyclists, like lemmings, developed some kind of death-wish?

As a keen motorcyclist I was more than happy to wear bright reflective gear to avoid the SMIDSY effect (Sorry Mate I Didn’t See You). I much preferred being seen, to having drivers pull out of junctions, or change lanes, in complete oblivion of any one except themselves.

I shall continue to give cyclists the widest of berths – assuming I see them, of course – because; I have no desire to hear their inane drivel if they think I’m too close, pathetic whinging should I bounce them into the bushes, or have to polish off the nasty marks they leave on the paintwork. 

But, on a serious note, let’s drive and ride carefully, be patient and considerate, and show each other respect. The highways and byways are there for us all to enjoy, especially in glorious Devon, and for us all to get home safely.

Oh, and, come on, cyclists, get the hi-viz tops on again – give us motorists a chance!

The Gateless Gate

Tags

ancient wisdom, barrier, Buddhism, chan, dartmoor, enclosures, enlightenment, gate, K Patrick Moody, Kim P Moody, koan, koans, meditation, mumon ekai, sheep, stone walls, the gateless gate, writer, writing ideas, wumen huikai, zen

I am lucky to live within an hour of Dartmoor, one of England’s harshest and most bleak – yet beautiful areas. The National Park covers 368 square miles, rising to a height of over 2,000 feet above sea level at High Willhayes, and includes the largest area of granite in Britain.

Not far from the Merrivale Prehistoric Settlement site is the Four Winds car park, and there, as part of stone-walled enclosures, I found a most efficient device for allowing passage by Man, but not by his sheep; an ancient device with no moving parts, requiring no maintenance.

For ancient technology the ‘gate’ is perfect in its simplicity. One has to turn sideways to pass through – metaphorically looking at life from a different angle, thinking outside of the box. But as a ‘sheep’ there is no way through, you can’t just follow. You need to shed a shed-load of baggage, and leave the old ewe behind.

It reminds me of The Gateless Gate (or Gateless Barrier), a collection of koans compiled in the early 13th century by Chinese Zen (Chan) master, Wumen Huikai (Japanese: Mumon Ekai) 1183-1260.

The collection consists 48 koans, each one has commentary and a verse by Wumen. None of the koans mention a gateless gate, but the collection, as a whole, provides an opening for the reader to squeeze through. A number of translations are available.

As with all Zen koans their wisdom is elusive, nebulous, and fleeting. A student may be confused, or baffled, or may attain that sudden flash of intense enlightenment – but gone before it can be grasped – which, should they attempt to explain, is again lost in the fog of mundane wordage that is without sufficient meaning …

The Gateless Gate … is the passage into enlightenment, but “gateless” because there is no actual barrier, it is … just … don’t forget to close it behind you.

Proper poetry – New Year’s Baby

Tags

alternative celebrations, birthday party, Christmas, creative writing, happy birthday, K Patrick Moody, Kim P Moody, new year, new year baby, proper poetry, rhyming verse, writing ideas

Just a bit of fun for all those whose birthday falls within a week of Christmas … I feel your pain:
(Image by Alexa from Pixabay)

Happy New Year, everyone!

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Celebrations are now all done,
Until next party season comes.
With three parties in one week,
The next fifty one are pretty bleak.

Happy new year! Happy days!
Happy birthday! Music plays.
Auld Lang Syne is badly sung,
Then, another trip around the sun.

They’re all hungover, heads they ache, 
Pointless resolutions make,
But I’m ready for the fun!
My birthday-day has just begun!

I conserved my celebrations,
But not so other party patrons,
On new years eve they jumped for joy,
But not so me, a New Year’s Boy!

So my year starts, on day one,
Cards and presents all undone,
What will it bring, good or bad?
Another year!- for which I’m glad!

But – I sit here all alone.
They’ve buggered off – all gone home,
So I’m sat with wine and crackers,
They’re partied out, all too knackered!

Hey! Ho! Happy Christmas, New Year, Birthday – whatever!

(c) Kim Moody, 2024

Witch way?

Tags

creative writing, hedgewitch, inquisitor, K Patrick Moody, Kim P Moody, opinion, real witch, the inquisition, wicca, witchcraft, writing ideas

Image by Susan Cipriano from Pixabay

Sometimes, something happens that gets you thinking.

I have a friend. She’s 92, lives in a remote, ivy-covered cottage on the edge of an old wood. Her hair is long, grey and wild, her skin is evidence of her years yet her dark eyes and her mind are as sharp as needles. I listened to her tell of her investigation of a strange stone circle in the wood – with crystals, and dowsing rods – and of her potions for wellness and healing, and it struck me that she is what the Inquisitors would have been searching for – a witch.

In contrast, there are followers of Wicca, the Gardinerian creation of the 1950s. Wicca is organised, ritualistic, and heavily symbolic. The system makes formal the year of sabbats, phases of the moon, familiars, and all sorts of other procedures, ceremonies, covens, and mystical things. All very trendy and modern.

Considering both, I believe that my friend is what could be described as a true witch, a wise-woman. She understands nature and the way of the world, of plants, of animals, of rivers, of the moon, the sun, and of the earth. She has no need of covens, ceremonies, athames, or any false accoutrements. She is content in her solitary practice, although she doesn’t regard it as such. To her it is just natural. She would know, the organic kind of knowing that needs no books.

Luckily the Church stopped burning witches some years ago. Only the persecution remains.

Proper poetry – Doomed

Tags

creative writing, hell on earth, K Patrick Moody, Kim P Moody, poetry, proper poetry, rhyming verse, writing ideas, writing prompts

Shopping is not my favourite pastime, but some shopping experiences are worse than others and should have a warning label – ‘Abandon hope all ye who enter!’

A particular expedition made an impact on me.

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Life is but a moment spent walking this green earth,
A time that’s short but sweet, for all that it is worth.

When your number’s up and, it’s time to move along,
Is it heaven – or is it hell – to which you will be gone?

Well, today I had a glimpse of hell, and hell it really was,
Much worse than Dante’s story, much worse! Much worse because …

There was no fire, no searing heat, no scalding, scorching flame.
Everything was cold, white and grey. No colour. T’was all the same.

There were no screaming Sirens to lure me to my doom, 
Just whiney arsed children, running squealing round the room.

Nowhere were there proper names, the words were long and odd,
They’re like a list of random letters chosen by some manic AI clod.

The lab’rinth had no entry, no exit nor signed route,
I wandered round Eternity, never finding my way out.

There were no windows, skylights none, just air that’s worn so thin,
The deeper down the depths I went the more the gloom pressed in.

Others there, doomed like me, gazed blankly at the shelves,
Zombie-like they stare straight ahead. Unseen – I’m by my self.

Entombed deep in the cavern, alone, lost with no map,
I wondered how I must have sinned, to be in this awful trap.

Eventually I saw a light, a way to freedom, clear.
I staggered out and saw a sign …
‘Thanks for shopping at Ikea!’

[(c) Kim P Moody, 2023]

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Proper poetry – The Way

Tags

creative writing, K Patrick Moody, Kim P Moody, life path, meaning of life, poetry, proper poetry, rhyming verse, the way, writing ideas

Julie and I were out for some fresh air and a wander and this view grabbed my attention.

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Light at the end – at least we hope,
For the journey is long and it’s dark.
For some people it is a struggle, 
but for others a walk in the park.

Enter now, be it at your own peril,
The path is rough and unsteady,
Or may be you wait until the right time,
But will you ever be ready?

There is no choice. It’s the only way.
You begin where life let’s you start,
Then you wend and you wobble along the path,
And find living is the best part.

Live and let live, do good and be good,
Make the most of what you have,
For you’re only here once, and once is enough.
So you might as well have good laugh.

[Words and picture (c) Kim P Moody, 2023]

Proper poetry – Weddings

Tags

alternative celebrations, Fiona Mills Art Photography, Kim P Moody, poetry, skulls, weddings

Our son has just got married, and the proceedings were a little ‘alternative’. It got me thinking …

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Couples have been ‘at it’ since the dawn of time,
Some of them got married.
Some rushed in and got hitched quick,
Others took it slow, and tarried.

I remember back to another era,
When weddings was all white.
The dress and train and veil and things
had pink posies, and all that shite.

They said their vows and made promises,
To love, to honour and obey,
And keep up all that damned hard work,
Until their dying day.

The vicar waved his arm about,
And chanted words of wonder,
Then raise the veil, kiss the bride,
And let no man put asunder.

But …

Now I find that things have changed,
Each wedding full of surprises.
You never know what you will find,
You just can’t believe your eyeses.

Who’d have thought that there would be
a black dress, skulls – and weird,
stuff like bayonets, black candles
and … a demonic ginger beard.

It’s plain to see that this pair
make the perfect two.
They have their matching motorcars,
and Download tattoos, too.

And then, of course, there are their cats,
They bring such fluff and sun.
With claws like Freddie Kruger’s hands,
They are full of feline fun.

But hey! That’s life, and it is good,
These two really are unique,
So my wish for them both,
Is – happiness and health, fun and laughter, love and joy, and all their hearts desire –
and to enjoy their honeymoon week!

(c) Kim P Moody, 2023
Wedding photography by Fiona Mills Art

Proper poetry – Honesty

Tags

cliffs, creative writing, deceit, honesty, Kim P Moody, ocean, poetry, proper poetry, rhyme, rhyming verse, sea, writing ideas

It has been some while since the inspiration to write has been with me, but after standing on the cliffs of the rugged North Cornwall coast, I was inspired …

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I stood on the cliff and looked at the sea,
And I could see that the sea saw me.
And together we spoke, just me and the sea,
Of life and of death, and of honesty.

The sea, you see, is cold and deep,
but the sea is the sea, is the sea.
The sea just is, she won’t deceive
You get what you see with the sea.

And Man, you see, is cold and deep,
But has learned the lies of deceit.
His truth is of gain, and of more, and of self,
His own agenda has he to meet.

And Man, you see, will take it all,
But he will not be satisfied.
He takes from the earth, and takes from the sea,
And will – until the turn of the tide.

But time, you see, only forward flows,
There is no ebb like the sea.
What Man does today can’t be undone,
And from that, there is nowhere to flee.

So I stood on the cliff and looked at the sea,
And I could see that the sea saw me.
We talked of when Man will return to the sea,
And of life and of death, and of honesty.

[Words and picture (c) Kim P. Moody, 2023]

Tourism in the South West

Tags

anti-social, bad manners, cornwall, Devon, dog poop, dogs, emmets, grockles, holidays, Kim P Moody, morals, opinion, tourism, travel

England’s south west peninsular consists Devon, and at the pointy end, Cornwall, home to some of the most beautiful and rugged countryside in the world.

The south coast is known as the British Riviera, with its warmer weather, sandy beaches, and cute, ancient fishing villages. The north coast is hard, rocky, and faces the brunt of the Atlantic with wind, waves, and rain, a surfer’s paradise. All of this brings tourists, the life-blood of the region. Without them there is little to sustain those who live there.

But, the tourists are largely viewed with distaste and only endured for the living they provide. They are known as grockles or emmets. ‘Emmets’ is an old country name for ants – tourists are likened to them because they are an infestation, they crawl over everything, they are unpleasant, and they are difficult to get rid of.

Photo by Jan Baborak – courtesy Unsplash

When they pack for their holidays they pack all the usual; shorts (those awful three quarter length things that make short fat city men look shorter and fatter), the most gaudy shirts imaginable, sun cream (which, by the lobster-toned flesh, they forget to use) and all the other paraphernalia of family travel. What they fail to bring with them is respect (for other people and their homes), common sense, intelligence, morals, and manners.

Sadly, the British tourist abroad’s reputation applies to his holidays at home, too. A visit to a beach, or may be a quiet public garden, which, during the off-season months, one can be immersed in the crashing of waves, calling of seabirds, and rustling of leaves becomes, during the summer season, an assault of yappy dogs, whiny-arsed children, and loud, shouty, self important modern parents failing to achieve any effect on their charges.

Their ‘entitled’ attitude to service staff, many of whom are recent school leavers in their first job, is downright rude and aggressive. Their spacial awareness is non-existent. The whole family (mum, dad, children (at least two), and pram-bound baby, granny, grandad (on an electric mobility scooter), and at least one dog) insist on walking side-by-side across any footway – and into the road – and appear oblivious to anyone else wishing to walk there.

The second-home owners arrive in huge 4x4s with roof mounted ‘granny coffins’, to buildings that could house a local family, but remain securely locked for 10 months of the year, and suddenly are full of life and wanting.

So, with double the traffic on the roads, double the population wandering aimlessly, and probably more that twice the number of dogs pooping anywhere and everywhere, things are pretty rough for the six weeks of school holidays.

Survival tactics come in to play. We stay away from the popular areas, except for early in the morning, because tourists are lazy and usually lay-in late, and avoid the main roads, especially on Friday and Monday. We don’t bother trying to get a Chinese take-away until mid-week.

Every cloud has a silver lining, though. People watching. We can park at the beach or in town and watch the antics. The beach can be particularly entertaining, especially when it is windy or raining.

They set up camp with a truck-load of kit. They insist on putting up wind-breaks on a rocky beach, or those little doggy tents in a howling gale. Watching the antics of those trying to get this year’s body into last year’s wetsuit is one of the best.

But really, we are just waiting for them to go home …

Lorena Bobbitt strikes again!

Tags

bobbitt, facts, just wrong, science, woke, writer

I like to think that I can learn something new most days, and to that end I follow some sciencey pages on social media so that I get well researched, unbiassed and factual information. But I fear even they might be falling foul of the ‘we-don’t-like-the-facts-so-we’ll-make-up-our-own’ brigade.

I was reading about research that had been done on certain effects on male and female genitalia, when I was dismayed to read therein pathetic and inaccurate woke-ish descriptions of those who took part in the studies.

Of those taking part 53% were ‘people with penises‘ and 47% were ‘people with vaginas‘. Wrong, very wrong. They are men and women; either born and functioning as such, or surgically arranged to do so.

A ‘person with a penis‘ would be like Lorena Bobbitt*, a ‘person with a vagina‘ would, more likely, be a pathologist.

Photo by Kyle Johnson on Unsplash

(_{*June 23, 1993, cut off her husbands penis with a kitchen knife – she was then ‘a person with a penis}‘)