Be Nice

Be Nice

As someone who views organised religion as an operating system, I found the book by John Niven, ‘The Second Coming’, an absolute hoot. The intro says it all.

God takes a look at the Earth around the time of the Renaissance and everything looks pretty good – so he takes a holiday. In Heaven-time this is just a week’s fishing trip, but on Earth several hundred years go by. When God returns, he finds all hell has broken loose: world wars, holocausts, famine, capitalism and ‘fucking Christians everywhere’. There’s only one thing for it. They’re sending the kid back.‘ …

… as a struggling musician…

The God Niven creates is laid back and despises what’s being said and done in his name. Let me put it this way, Niven’s language is somewhat ‘ripe’ to put it mildly; his view of intolerant religious fundamentalism, mainly in Christianity, is excoriating; and as for the ten commandments, there should have been only one – Be Nice. Erm, that’s it. Be Nice.

Not only is the book very funny it also challenges those who use hate to promote their views. Worth reading, but only if you’re not precious about your religion.

So, why am I mentioning this in what is currently a confused and, in some cases, frightened world? Well, put simply, there are a great number of people who are doing just that – they’re living the Be Nice commandment.

For example, a friend of mine whom I’ve mentioned before lives her faith-based beliefs daily. Her sense of responsibility to her family and community means that she is currently unable to attend her church or the local homeless kitchen initiative for which she volunteers.

Another, a fellow writer, lives in London with her self-employed husband and family. She also lives her faith-based beliefs daily and gives time to her mosque to help her community. She has to balance practical issues, e.g. finance, and keeping those she loves safe and close.

Both of these incredibly caring, strong women, of different faiths, live the Be Nice commandment daily. You’ll have your own examples.

Obviously there are those who will try to weaponise this situation to suit their own ends. The current incumbent of the White House calling Covid-19 the ‘Chinese’ virus and declining to take responsibility for the handling of this emergency is but one example. There are others.

In this hyper-chaotic world, the ‘law of unintended consequences’ applies. This means that we have no idea where we will be when the initial challenges created by Covid-19 begin to be addressed. Will we have learned? Will we apply what has been learned? We can only wait and see.

We will get through this, of that I have no doubt. However, as I wrote previously, it’s how this particular challenge is dealt with that will define us.

So – Be Nice.

J J Mitchell

‘No one left behind’

 

‘Do you like my nipple hat?’

‘Do you like my nipple hat?’

Being a writer is helped by reading what others have written.  Not always, ‘writing’, mind you, but from various other interests one might have.  In my case, music and photography.  The heading comes from an article in the photography magazine, Amateur Photographer,  entitled ‘How a national cancer campaign was created with an old camera and no photography experience’.  

Lorraine Milligan’s dad gave her his old Nikon D40 for her birthday along with its kit lens and a 70-300mm zoom.  She has an eye for composition which is why she is an incredibly successful professional hair and make-up artist in the music, fashion, film and TV worlds.  As a former dancer, she was, as she said, aware of posture and body positioning.  

Her world changed on 12 November 2018 when her partner, Richard, was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer.  It had spread to his lymph nodes, lungs and liver.  

He was just 40 years of age.  

It was whilst she and Richard were waiting in the chemotherapy ward that Lorraine caught the eye of a woman sitting opposite, Amanda, wearing a pink woolly hat with a nipple on the top.  

We smiled, and she said, “Do you like my nipple hat?” She didn’t have any hair, but she looked fabulous in her hat.  Lorraine wanted to know if she had one in blue for Richard.  They started to chat and Amanda asked Lorraine what she did.  On being told, she said straight away,  I’d love you to take some pictures of me for my personal journal, scars and all.’  

After the initial shoot with Amanda, an epiphany as Lorraine calls it, a conversation took place.  A campaign was born.  

Other women who had breast cancer, (what Lorraine calls her ‘breast friends’), were approached, the campaign was explained and over four shoots the powerful images you can see in ‘Bluegetitoo were created.  There’s also a film,   As the article says, ‘It’ll be the most powerful four minutes and nine seconds that you will have spent in a long time.  Like the author, I also found that I had some grit in my eyes, hence the tears…

Just one person.  A world changing experience.  A fightback.  A group of strong women who don’t give up.  And a man with a cancer that men need to be made aware of before it’s too late.  It is a thing and men get it too. Share the links.  It could save a life.  

J J Mitchell

‘No one left behind’

There is no such thing as ‘Just a cat.’

There is no such thing as ‘Just a cat.’

That’s a quote from Robert Heinlein.  Here’s another, ’Never try to out stubborn a cat.’  That was from his book ‘Time enough for love.’  Interesting book that, with its views of living almost for ever and other somewhat challenging ideas for that time as well as ours.  So it goes… (You need to know about the Tralfamadorians to understand that last bit – plus, it’s me being a bit of a smart arse.)  

Anyway, to continue, I’ve read many of his books and feel they are unique, a bit disquieting in some cases, but always original, I like original.  He also wrote:  

‘Sick cultures show a complex of symptoms…but a dying culture invariably exhibits personal rudeness.  Bad manners. Lack of consideration for others in minor matters.  A loss of politeness, of gentle manners, is more significant than a riot.’  

This symptom is especially serious in that an individual displaying it never thinks of it as a sign of ill health but as proof of his / her strength…’  Robert A. Heinlein ‘Friday’  

Written in 1982, a wee while ago methinks, eh?  

Let’s bring it up to date a tad.  Regarding sick cultures and a dying culture.  A loss of politeness, of gentle manners…  Bad manners, lack of consideration for others in minor matters…  Anyone, any leader of a country (plural) come to mind?  I thought so.  Me too.  

Currently we have the 45th incumbent in the White House facing impeachment.  In the UK we have the 77th Prime Minister of the UK voted in by 92,153 members of his party, no-one else, just his party.  The latter isn’t doing so well is he?  He’s losing vote after vote and has been unanimously excoriated by all eleven judges of the highest court in the land regarding his proroguing of Parliament.  No matter what, he continues to go his own way, ignoring the normal standards of political discourse.  With both of these ‘leaders’ it’s about them, and only about them.  Their language inflames rather than leads.  

Bad manners, loss of politeness.  

The misuse of words such as surrender, or enemy rather than opponent.   

As I wrote in a blog in January 2018, ‘Interesting word, enemy.  Having been in the military, the word invariably means someone we have to dehumanise since we may have to kill them.  Those who disagree with me are not my enemy, they are my opponent, a different thing entirely.  I don’t want to kill my opponents.  I don’t want to disrespect my opponents.  Unfortunately, we are now in a world where balance is no longer respected, vituperation rules and reasoned debate mocked.’  

No longer are we polite when we disagree.  We see people trying to draw blood, literally, when they confront each other – on the street, on instant media, the press, television.  Egged on by their fury, anger, hatred, misunderstanding, and by a media that uses them as the product, (remember, if it’s free then you are the product.)  

Unless we regain that politeness, civility, call it what you will, then one day perhaps there’ll be blood drawn for real on a massive scale.  Led by those who have never seen the horror that is violence.  Led by those who will make sure that they and theirs will never pay the price for causing that violence.  

Finally, can we please stop comparing Trump with Hitler.  It’s wrong to do so.  So very wrong.    

Hitler fought for his country.  

J J Mitchell

‘No one left behind’

Let’s give it up for the strong women in this world

Let’s give it up for the strong women in this world

I was going to make this blog about what Eisenhower called the ‘military-industrial complex’ and the control / damage it has done to the body politic.  

‘In the councils of government, we must guard against the acquisition of unwarranted influence, whether sought or unsought, by the military-industrial complex. The potential for the disastrous rise of misplaced power exists and will persist. We must never let the weight of this combination endanger our liberties or democratic processes.’

He said this on leaving office in January 1961.  Still resonates today doesn’t it?  

However I received some news from the wife of a long time friend of mine that he had to go into hospital to ‘have some shit scooped out of his head.’  (She’s a nurse so she’s allowed.)  The operation was a success and the love of her life came home within 48 hours.  Within minutes of arriving home, his head, out of which he’d had ‘some shit scooped’, was under the bonnet of their daughter’s car aiming to change the thermostat.  ‘Dumb shit’ was one comment from the love of his life, (she’s a nurse so she’s allowed), before she marched him back inside.  A woman with attitude.  A strong woman.  

Then there’s another woman whom I admire.  A ‘softer’ version of the one above but equally strong in her beliefs.  This is a woman who went on a one day course to learn about what’s involved in feeding homeless people so that she could become active in a local initiative; spending time in contributing to the social cohesion of the area in which she lives; making many lives that bit better.  A deeply caring woman.  A strong woman.  

Then there’s the woman with whom I live.  The love of my life.  The one who was strong enough to make me realise there was a better me; who contributed to the development of others in her professional life; and who now contributes to the enjoyment of others via her art.  An articulate, wickedly funny woman.  A strong woman.  

Then there are the strong women who stand up to those in power whom they feel are usurping the democracy that elected them to office.  These are the four Congress women, also known as The Squad, who are facing up to the bullying of what I now call the Teflon Don.  They’re not blinking.  Strong women all.  

None of the women I have mentioned and admire blink.  They stand up for what they believe in.  We are blessed by having such women in our lives, and life.  

So, let me repeat, let’s give it up for the strong women in this world.  We are better people because of them.  Our world(s) are better because of them. 

J J Mitchell

‘No one left behind’ 

 

The power of words

The power of words

This is a blog about the power of words.  

The reason?  The loss of someone close to one of our dearest friends.  It was with humour and incredible bravery that he stuck two fingers up at Death as it approached.  He just didn’t blink.  He used words to make people laugh, he used words to let folk know that they should celebrate who he was with him.  Pity and sadness were not allowed, especially the former.  The latter could, and would, come later as it has now.   

As Love Of My Life, LOML, and I discussed this delightful and loved human being it brought to mind the poem that was spoken at the funerals of LOML’s father and mother.  

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

Do not stand at my grave and weep 

I am not there. I do not sleep. 

I am a thousand winds that blow. 

I am the diamond glints on snow. 

I am the sunlight on ripened grain. 

I am the gentle autumn rain. 

When you awaken in the morning’s hush 

I am the swift uplifting rush 

Of quiet birds in circled flight. 

I am the soft stars that shine at night. 

Do not stand at my grave and cry; 

I am not there. I did not die. 

Mary Elizabeth Frye

An example of how beautiful words can be.  How moving.  How inspiring.  

A quick search on Wikipedia provides some background.  Mary Elizabeth Fry was an American born in November, 1905 and died September, 2004.  The genesis of the poem, written in 1934, was inspired by the story of a young Jewish girl, Margaret Schwarzkopf, who had stayed with the Frye household.  She was unable to visit her dying mother in Germany due to anti-Semitic unrest.  

Anti-semitic unrest.  A horrible phrase, created by an obscene philosophy that pilloried a discrete religious / racial group and, in the end, exterminated in excess of six million of them.  

An example of how words can stir up hate.  

An example of how words can result in the death of millions.  

You will have your own examples of these promoters of hate and populist manipulation.  They tweet, they (mis-)use Facebook, (that dreadful, irresponsible publisher with no moral compass at all), they lie in the press and on television.  Without any sense of guilt or responsibility.  

And yet, and yet, we know that words can inspire and bring people together.  So, let’s use words that counter the hate and vilification espoused by others;  let’s use words that create laughter;  let’s use words that move us to a higher level of our humanity.  

Just like the man I have written about at the beginning of this blog.  

J J Mitchell

‘No one left behind’ 

Groan joke alert

Groan joke alert

Just finished re-editing The Kold Kronicles Book 1: Discovery.  It’s interesting to go back over what was written three years ago after you’ve completed your second book.  You tend to notice differences in style in the first compared to the second.  For example, I’m a tad descriptive with the gore in the first but, having in the interim read the Icelandic Sagas and  other similar Sagas, have changed slightly to replicate their style, e.g.  ‘he was stabbed and he died’, in the second.  

Made me think, language, descriptive language, how it changes over time, its uses and how it can make people smile, laugh, thoughtful or angry.   

For example, I really enjoy telling what I call ‘groan’ jokes. Here’s one,  ’What do you call a man who lives under leaves?’  Answer:  ‘Russell.’  I know, I know, dreadful.  I used that in the first book as a code.  It also made me smile.  

I have others, so be warned.  Here’s another, (you were warned).  ‘The past and the present walked into a bar.  It was tense.’  That might appeal to the writers amongst you.  

Now that, hopefully, may make some folk smile, or at least groan.  What I’m trying to say here is that words help us communicate.  Communicate bad jokes to make us groan;  Communicate our hopes;  Communicate our concerns.  

Yet many in positions of authority use words to build walls; to tear down community;  to undermine our common humanity.  All of it to satisfy their own ego or political / economic aims.  In sum, they lie to create a world that is only in their interest.  

They can be stopped.  First, treat those online publishers, Twitter and Facebook, (they’re not platforms as they would have you believe), as the mechanisms for telling lies that they are.  Let us talk face to face, share our hopes and fears and see the common understanding that binds us in our humanity.  Let us mock these individuals for their cant and hypocrisy to undermine their ego since, invariably, it is a very fragile thing.   

Some may argue this to be naive, fine, let them, their loss, their cynicism, their limitation.  

Finally, let’s threaten them with bad jokes.  ‘I used to be a freelance journalist but I wasn’t very good at it.  Lance is still in prison.’  (You might have to think about that a bit.)

I’ll be re-editing ‘The Kold Kronicles Book 2: Defiance’ next.  I haven’t any jokes in that you’ll be pleased to hear.  

J J Mitchell

‘Never leave anyone behind’ 

Mixed feelings

Mixed feelings

I started writing this on 11 November, the day the Armistice was signed which brought the end to the First World War.  After millions of human beings, note the term, human beings, were killed, maimed, disfigured and mentally scarred.  For what?  A home fit for heroes?  Most went back to the same poverty they’d left when they’d joined up to protect their country from the enemies they’d been told they had.  

However, this isn’t about politics, this is about mixed feelings felt by the individual.  

The mixed feelings people have when they remember those who have died in war.  The First World War, the Second World War, Vietnam, Iraq, Israel, Egypt, Yemen, the list could go on.  And on.  And on.  The mixed feelings people have when they think about why people went to war and died.  The relief that people feel when they heard the loved one had died quickly.  The regret.  The anger at the waste.  The loss of someone you loved, knew, cared about.  All of that.  The relief when that person comes back apparently unharmed.  It needs to be remembered that the wounds might be hidden, sometimes for years.  We call it PTSD…

Then you have people having mixed feelings at a personal level.  When their Mum dies, or their Dad dies.  Or a friend you cared about lost a battle against an unwelcome ‘guest’ – liver cancer <here>  (Semper Fidelis, Bill.)  I find it with everyone I know, the mixed feelings they have when someone they love, or have known for what might be decades, is dying or suffering a lingering illness.  They love, care, respect them to the extent that they don’t want them to suffer.  They love, care, respect them to the extent that they want them to stay.  To remain and make them laugh.  To allow them to care.  To remain and continue to make them whole.  To complete, maintain the balance of their world.  

Then the person dies.  

It leaves those left behind feeling guilty that they wanted them to go and go quickly, with no pain, because although the body was there, the soul, the essence as it were, is no longer present.  And that’s where the mixed feelings come in.  Relief that the suffering is over;  anger at the person dying before you were ready to let them go;  guilt at wanting them to go because them staying was causing them physical and mental pain.  

Mixed feelings, eh?  Such a pain.  Such a load of confusion.  Such a maelstrom of emotions.  Good.  Bad.  Never indifferent.  

So very human.  

J J Mitchell

‘Never leave anyone behind’ 

And she had such nice shoes too…

And she had such nice shoes too…

So there we were, the love of my life, LOML, in this city of life, laughter and mellowness.  Amsterdam – it was a birthday theng.  My birthday.  The weather was hot and sunny, people wandering around, taking photographs, smiling.  A beautiful and historic city.  Suddenly the sky darkened and it looked as though it was going to rain.  When Amsterdam does rain, it does rain!  Seriously, it rains.  Bouncy type of rain.  You know, the kind where the raindrop hits the ground and it bounces up, in this case about six to nine inches.  As I said, bouncy rain.  

Rather than be soaked, LOML and I decided to go to the same place we’d visited the day before for something light to eat and something to drink.  We sat outside under the awning and watched the show as the heavens opened and the rain did its dance and bounced around on the cobbles.  Fascinating.  People running for cover, others laughing and letting the rain bounce off their upturned face and outspread arms.  Joy.  

At a table near us, a very elegant man and woman.  Him, stylish, quiet, observing the impromptu show in front of us.  Her, hair drawn back, elegant with bright intelligent eyes.  However, it was her shoes that caught my eye.  Glittery, obviously expensive, resembling sports shoes, but sports shoes that you rarely see.  She saw me looking and smiled.  

‘Madame, I was just admiring your shoes…’  I said.

‘Thank you, they’re,’ and she mentioned a luxury brand.  ‘You are here on holiday?’ she asked.

‘I am, it’s my birthday.’  

‘And where are you from?’  

‘Edinburgh, and you?’

‘Washington.’

‘Ah.’  Silence, erm, reigned.  

‘We have lived there for some time having had to leave Iran.’  

‘Ah.’

‘We have loved it there.  The generosity of the people, their welcome, but now…’  She tailed off.

‘Ah.’  (I know, I know, I can be quite articulate sometimes.)

‘He is changing the country, that man.  We have seen this before, creating fear, enemies where previously there were none.’  

‘He is,’ LOML and I said together.    

We were all quiet for a while.  Thinking, pondering.  She sighed, finished her light meal and tonic water and they left nodding their farewells.  

Both were obviously sad.  Sad for a world that was changing in a way that they thought was not for the better.  So was I.  And she had such nice shoes too…  

J J Mitchell

‘Never leave anyone behind’ 

So, why do we write when it can be such a pain in the bum?

So, why do we write when it can be such a pain in the bum?

I have a Twitter account as well as Facebook page.  Twitter allows me to touch base with other, in the main, like-minded folk and Facebook generally with friends and family.  Today’s blog is about the former.  I’ve already written posts about some writers, e.g. Lexi Lefevre (fabulous poet) as well as Doug Wallace (great SciFi inkster).  I’ve left feedback on the latter’s book on Good Reads here.  It’s a good book and worth reading if you’re into fantasy.  

It’s the quality of the poetry, the use of words and the imaginative worlds they create that so impress me.  Read more