Raymond's Piano, one vignette in my Victorian Tale

No one knows what went through Raymond’s mind the day he bought a ticket for a one way trip from San Francisco to San Diego on the coach.  No one ever knew because no one ever cared enough to dig deeply into anything involving Raymond.  When he showed up on the porch of my grandparents’ house, claiming to be an old friend of Mabel,Stover, her declaration of ‘I don’t know this man from Adam’ firmly slammed the door shut where his place in the Phelan world was concerned.

What occurred then was nothing short of extraordinary.  My grandmother, being a very genteel woman with a proper upbringing, invited him to dinner in the same way she would have opened her door to any stranger coming from afar.  Raymond therefore came to dinner.

Even as a child, I recognised how much class and occupation as well as other quite rigid judgements defined the world of my stepfather’s family.  I knew that the Robinsons considered Vera had married own by marrying an Irishman.  It was a family of strong women who surrounded the one surviving spouse in the person of Fred, and the precious single egg in the basket who was named after his father and thus a ‘Junior’ for over half his life.  

Raymond, having been the driver of a coach, was a social embarrassment to Mabel.  She could not acknowledge, let alone value his unswerving and heartfelt devotion.  It was in fact a source of some shame.

As children, I do not recall that we ever protested against the rather shabby treatment Raymond received.  He kept coming to the house, even after ‘Mimi’ gave him the coldest of cold shoulders.  As genteel people, Vera was worn down by his daily presence at the dinner table to the point where she grudgingly invited him to a future family holiday or birthday.  That represented a milestone for Raymond.

He must have been very lonely, craving the comfort of a family, even one that never really accepted him.  The Phelans accepted my mother’s two daughters from her previous marriage instantly.  We never were made conscious by them of the fact that we were not of their lineage.  My mother, on the other hand, never was accepted completely.  She was a divorced woman, after all.  She ultimately had her revenge on the entire clan when, having oulived my stepfather, she was able to declare she had inherited five estates.

Meanwhile, Raymond rented a little flat in town, and made the pilgrimage to the house on the hill every day, often with a box of See’s pastels.  I do not think they even make those now.  They were similar to pastilles in shape, but basically were sugar.  That was what the older generation liked best.  I never really acquired a taste for them.  I loved the Bordeaux and the California Brittle and the Butterscotch Squares.  They may have had different names in those days, but I definitely was not excted by those pale pastilles that were very pretty but lacked flavour to some extent.  As every one apart fom my immediate family kept their teeth in jars at night, I realise now that the Nuts and Chews would have been arduous for them to manage.  As a child, I was not really at a point where I thought too much about the ‘whys and wherefores’ of life as Bilbo Baggins put it.

Anoher random memory that has nothing to do with Raymond specifically but definitely is related to See’s is the way my mother would commandeer any box given to any one in the family.  She then ould take a small bite from every chocolate ultimately, consuming the ones shevliked, but leaving the others in the box.  It was rodent behaviour really.  I since have found Easter baskets with the chocolates that somehow were hidden in the grass or otherwise left behind, and at some point before the next Easter, the tiny teeth marks and nibbling of mice would be apparent.  At best, some tiny creature probably would make countless stealthy raids to consume all of it, leaving only finely shredded foil and a few hard pellets in the place of the chocolate egg.  It always makes m think of my mother and how she decimated a box of chocs.

Sad to say, I have nothing more to tell about poor Raymond.  Wherpther he specifically named Mabel as his heir or simply died unmourned and unlocated by his family, his meagre possessions were absorbed into the Phelan estate.  They included an old upright piano, which came to be known as Raymond’s piano and lived for decades then in Mildew Cottage.  The estate includes five pianos and two organs.  The title to most of them would be contested were it worth the effort.  Poor Raymond’s Piano is of little value apart from being his one legacy to our world.  The Steinway, hotly disputed, exists in a mutated condition as it had been converted into a player piano at one point, after which an attempt was made to return it to its original condition.  Regrettably, that never will be entirely possible.  Like the breaking of a girl’s hymen, evidence of the little box that was added and then removed forever altered its size.

Fear of Dying and having a Wank

 One of my own greatest fears is that, at my age, Dementia somehow will creep up on me unawares in conjunction with some new potentially fatal condition like a dicky heart, clogged arteries, or most likely of all, a NEW blood clot.  Something, in other words, that could cause me to go off without any warning into the land of the Beyond...

Note here that it is not Death itself that I fear, but the manner of my dying, and here is the worst part:  NOT FOR MY OWN SAKE BUT FOR THE SAKE OF PUBLIC OPINION!

There are stories every day, not only on social media, but in actual mainstream, respectable newspapers, about some guy usually who was found dead on his own, hanged to death by the neck during the course of what he probably thought would be a quick, crafty little wank while the family was out and about.  Disaster strikes, and however famous or respected he might be as a writer, or artist, or any other REAL claim to fame, this is the last sentence in his biography:  'he unfortunately died as a result of auto-asphyxiation' if the biographer is genteel, or 'he died with a rope round his throat while having a wank.'

Oddly enough, it appears to be something that occurs more often to men than women.  I know there are women who for whatever reason flirt with self-destruction by allowing a partner to tighten a stocking or rope round their necks while engaging in intercourse... Ah, I just realised why women are not found dead alone, hanging from a ceiling!  It probably is because more hand action and agility and focus is required for a woman to achieve orgasm by herself than a man probably would need.

In any case, fighting for every breath never has been a source of arousal for me in ANY circumstances,  here is where my FEAR takes control of the stage.  As I wrote initially, my fear is that somehow I would become the victim of Dementia, and my own deterioration would reach a point, in combination with some geriatric hormonal increase that would transform me into a temporary nymphomanic without my permission or even knowledge of this change, making a sort of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde erotic nightmare.

Let me describe an event in my life that actually occurred, and probably is at the root of this terror:  When my daughter was quite young, I would take her to the cinema to watch a matinee.  I liked historical drama myself, and whatever potential inaccuracies, believed that taking her to films like this might stimulate a love of history (as well as a need to question official accounts and slants in ANY so-called history book or text) in her. 

We therefore went to a matinee showing of the film 'Alexander the Great'.  I know, I know, but it was not any sort of erotic scene that caused the subsequent horror to emerge.

Somehow, our own timing coincided with the arrival of a coach filled with people who had mental disabilities of some sort.  Whether they were born that way or simply suffered from Dementia that attacked them later in life, the cinema was almost entirely filled with an audience that had been discharged from this coach. 

My daughter and I were seated together in one of the rows closest to the screen, but an elderly woman in a wheelchair had been pushed to the very front of the cinema, in front of ALL of the seats, so that she could remain in her wheelchair.   Her aide or keeper or whoever had placed her there then split... no one anywhere close to monitor the actions of ANY of the audience members, apart from a very bored, inattentive usher who stood, leaning against the wall, next to the exit at the very back of the cinema.

Note here that we had to sit near the screen primarily because I had become physically disabled myself, and although climbing stairs to a row closer to the back would be possible, doing so with a device that helped me walk, and then trying to navigate my way to the a seat that would allow me to view the screen from the centre, was more trouble than it was worth.  We therefore tended to choose a row that, although not the front row, was the front row in its own little section so we could sit in the centre without being required to force our way down a long narrow corridor between seats and the back of the seats in front of them.  End of, but a necessary explanation as you will see.

At some quite random moment in the film, this elderly disabled woman began to moan quietly.  Soon, however, the level of sound became quite audible to EVERY ONE, and even in the dark, I could see jerky movements of some sort from her that made me think she was having some sort of fit.

As some one who tries to be conscious of the disabled and helpless at ANY age, I turned to my daughter and whispered: 'Please go help that woman!  There's something terribly wrong with her!'

I did not want to disclose the fact that I was physically disabled in this little tale, but THAT is why I asked my young daughter to intervene rather than intervening myself.

Even at her tender age, my daughter was far more savvy and sophisticated than I evidently, because she instantly and emphatically refused to have anything to do with this woman's situation.  I let it go at that point, despite the continuing moaning rising gradually in decibels.

It was when the woman actually FELL OUT OF HER WHEELCHAIR onto the floor that I demanded my daughter help her.  I still did not understand why the woman was making that racket.  I thought she honestly was moaning in pain, and that she had suffering some awful accident in the course of an epileptic fit.

So... my daughter simply told me that the woman had not been having a fit, that she was not moaning in pain, and flatly refused to go near her.  I ultimately went to the usher myself, after a few more minutes when it became obvious he completely and utterly either deliberately or because his attention was NOT on his job, was prepared to ignore the entire incident,

Yes, the woman was having a wank to Colin Farrell in his role as Alexander the Great.  Let us make no bones about that!

Not a bad choice of wanking material, I admit, but it NEVER would occur to me that an elderly woman would do such a thing in a public place where they were showing a film that had not been rated as porn.  This was a film that, although it contained some erotic scenes, should be 'safe' from the seedy fellows that wanked off in their trenchcoats in certain film houses back in the day before computers and internet porn, and similarly safe from any potential female counterparts.

The sad fact is that it was not her gender, nor her age, and probably nothing to do with her ordinary personality and character, that caused the situation.  She suffered from some mental impairment that dissolved all of the 'filters' on her behaviour, and all of the ordinary rules of polite or even acceptable social conduct.  She probably was not even aware of the other people in the cinema, nor even that she WAS in a cinema.  She was so 'caught up in the moment' that everything else ceased to matter or even exist.

THIS experience is indelibly fixed in my memory.  In my worst nightmares, I fear that one day, I will wank off in some public place, although I am not a nymphomaniac, nor even the sort of woman who really has engaged much in my lifetime in that sort of behaviour even in the privacy of my own room for the most part.  This caveat means nothing, however, if I am seized by the hair by the Dementia.  God only knows how awful that would be.  I have seen it completely destroy the lives of other intelligent, creative, very properly-educated, genteel women in my own family.  Never caught them doing a wank, I have to admit, but there are many ways in which a person, if he/she did not suffer from Dementia, could find their own actions embarrassing or simply silly and absurd.

The 'FEAR' however is amplified by the spectre of Death, of somehow causing my own death by an act of orgasm that, in my right mind, I would not have initiated at all if there were any possibility in real terms that it could kill me off.  I mean, it happens all the time, doesn't it?  The physical effects of a good orgasm are fairly powerful in terms of aspects of the human body, I always believe, but before I wrote this bit, I did a Google search on the subject.  Here is what one study concluded:

Disclaimer:  

The following are not my own words, nor even my own study...  and frankly, a lot of it is too technical for me personally.

Abstract

OBJECTIVE:

This study is to observe the changes of blood pressure (BP), heart rate (HR), double product (DP) and heart rate variability during sexual activity in healthy adults before we cover patients with chronic cardiovascular disease.

METHODS:

Forty-nine participants grouped by sex, 22 males, aged 40.6+/-7.8 years; 27 females, aged 40.3+/-7.8 years, underwent simultaneous ambulatory monitoring of BP and HR for 24 h. During the monitoring period, sexual activity of the participants with man-on-top in their familiar environment was performed. Participants were requested to measure BP manually at the beginning of each sexual phase and three times after orgasm in every 10-min interval and 60 min after orgasm. For each individual, eight measuring values, respectively, about BP, HR, DP and heart rate variability were obtained from baseline to 1 h after orgasm. The data were statistically analysed with paired t-test and the significant level was set at P<0.05.

RESULTS:

In both groups, the peak BP did not appear at orgasm, but at the beginning of plateau and dropped to baseline level at 10 min after orgasm (male 141.41+/-17.13/91.05+/-13.69 vs. 120.14+/-11.07/72.86+/-7.78 mmHg, female 121.67+/-16.61/77.37+/-15.03 vs. 109.37+/-10.54/67.19+/-9.41 mmHg). The peak HR occurred at the beginning of orgasm, and dropped to baseline level 10-20 min after orgasm (male 96.36+/-11.96 vs. 75.41+/-9.02 bpm, female 90.19+/-10.38 vs. 71.44+/-5.68 bpm). DP of both groups elevated at the beginning of plateau and orgasm then decreased to baseline level 10 min after orgasm (male 12964.27+/-2659.17 vs. 9134.09+/-1469.58 mmHg bpm, female 10044.48+/-1777.89 vs. 7841.30+/-1023.79 mmHg bpm). All the results showed that BP, HR and DP have mild to moderate changes during sexual activity in healthy adults.

CONCLUSION:

Using ambulatory technology to monitor BP and HR helps us to get the real data in participants during sexual activity. BP, HR and DP increase just slightly for a short time and recover to baseline level soon after sexual activity in healthy adults. The physical exhaustion during sexual activity is within the range of the daily-life workload.

END OF QUOTE

I guess what you are saying, mate, is that sex really does not present that much of a risk, and that, should I ever succumb to an inappropriate desire to have a wank in an inappropriate venue, with any kind of unintended audience, for ANY reason, that probably will not be the last entry in any biography written about me, if anything about me should prove important enough to become the subject of a proper or even improper biography.

How to use a Roku television when the Remote breaks or is destroyed

I am posting about this because I am not the first person to find herself in the awful position where a device that seemingly can be operated SOLELY with its remote control breaks.  In my case, the remote control was swept into the washing machine with my bedding this morning. It emerged DEAD IN THE WATER.

So here I was with a situation wherein I could not even turn on the Roku.  Every control is on the remote control.  A lot of internet research unearthed a temporary solution.  It is not straightforward, however, which is why I am publishing this post.

First of all, there is a Roku app that can transform any mobile or tablet into a remote control for your Roku television.  

Go to the Apple Shop if you use an Apple device or go to the Google Play App Shop if you have Android and download the official Roku app that creates a remote control inter alia.

The download and installation are simple.  It is when 'No device found' is displayed that the problem occurs.  The fact of the matter is that, if your television had been shut off when your remote control broke or was destroyed, it will not be found by the Roku app!  So what do you do?

Well, in fact, there IS a Power Button on the Roku television.  It is not easy to find.  On some televisions, it evidently is a small button on the back.  On mine, however, I was able to watch a video on YouTube to discover that the power button is in the very centre on the BOTTOM of the television.  On the bottom!!!!  You cannot see it even from the ordinary viewer's position.  There evidently are three buttons under the television but I did not determine what the others did.  I simply pressed them until one of them switched on the television.

Once the Power Button has activated your screen, the Roku app will find it and pair with it without any further fuss or bother.  I have ordered a replacement remote control device, however... the App appears to work, but all the research indicates that it eats away at your battery charge like a demon.

Trail of Tears Art Installation

Two separate installation pieces entitled 'The Trail of Tears' representing not only the ritual eternal mourning for the god Adonis but my own personal struggle with cancer. The stairway is intended to represent the journey of the Goddess Inanna to the Underworld. Aphrodite and Persephone both were in love with the handsome Adonis, and Zeus decreed that the god spend a third of the year in the Underworld with Persephone, a third of the year with Aphrodite and a third of the year by himself. 

The actual dried flowers (dead flowers) used in the installation were given to me by friends and family when I was diagnosed with cancer in September 2018.

The tale of Adonis continues to influence festivals to this day.

In the ancient Sumerian version, it was the Great Goddess Inanna who originally volunteered to descend to the Underworld to participate in the mourning rituals after the death of the husband of Ereshkigal (her own dark sister).  Her sister then stripped her of all of her powers, and hanged her body 'like a piece of meat' from a hook, where she was plagued by demons in the forms of flies.  She obtained her freedom only by promising to send some one in her place.

When she ascended to the world of the living, she discovered that while her faithful servant had remained loyally at the entrance, mourning her disappearance, her consort Dumuzi had been partying, never giving her a thought, and actually seating himself upon her throne.  So she decreed he would serve in her stead, and a pursuit followed to capture him when he attempted to flee.  In any event, down he went like Adonis later, to act as consort for the Queen or the Underworld for part of the year.  

These all are tales about the seasons, when the seed must be planted in the dark earth, watered until it grows to maturity, then cut down with a sickle.    The god is born, dies and returns on an annual basis.

The ancient tales of Canaan depict this as a fight between Ba'al, Lord of the Sky, and Mot, Lord of the Underworld.  This version is very interesting because they alternate as sacrifices.  

When Anat kills Mot:

The maiden Anath meets Him.

As with the heart of a cow toward her calf,

As with the heart of an ewe toward her lamb,

So is the heart of Anath toward Baal.

She seizes the God Mot.

With a sword She cleaves Him,

With a fan She winnows Him,

With a fire She burns Him,

In the millstones She grinds Him,

In the fields She plants Him,

So that the birds do not eat His flesh,

Nor the fowl destroy His portion.

Flesh calls to flesh.'

Ba'al's body is found by the river, and carried back to Heaven by a goddess.  Mourning ensues. 

Very much a depiction of the actual life of the fields, where seeds are planted, harvests are followed by winnowing, grinding of grain and so on.

Review of Netflix Series Messiah or Al Masih

Al Masih or Messiah Review by Freyashawk
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In any era when slogans and 'buzzwords' dominate the entire world because of social media and the substitution of quick postings on the internet for actual newspapers and journals for the majority of individuals, Netflix has produced a series entitled 'Messiah'.  The word itself instantly creates a response in any one who sees it.  'Messiah' or 'Al Masih (in Arabic) is one of the most powerful symbols, both in the West and in the East, for followers or any of the three primary 'monotheist' religions as well as atheists and agnostics.  It resonates either negatively or positively with almost every one.

In the West, the title of 'The Messiah', even among the non-religious often evokes the wonderful Oratorio by Handel.  'The Second Coming' evokes the poem by Yeats.  The title and theme of this series are redolent of legends and age-old human hopes and beliefs that the world will end and that a saviour will descend either literally or figuratively from the clouds to save us from the consequences of thousands of years of our own irresponsible, or actively evil actions,

The absolute genius here is that the title grabs the public's attention, bu the actual series is profound, thought-provoking, and questions EVERY attitude.  It is very even-handed in terms of asking important philosophical, religious, and political questions.  It is courageous in that it dares, like Paul Findley, 'to speak out'.

More of that later, however.  I do not wish to define a series that goes far beyond political realities by that alone.  It does far more than ask political questions.  It is about religion, philosophy, ethics, and about the place of religion in science and science in religion.  It is about the power of magic and appearances, of disguises and of perception.  It is about a man who opens eyes, who asks questions, who leads various people out of a corner but does not give a destination.  It is about freeing people from their prejudices, forcing them to ask questions, but without giving any answers in many cases.

Like Jesus, when some one says he is the Messiah, his answer is:  'It is you who say so.'  The fictional character known as 'Al Masih'  really does not define himself in terms of any specific religion or organisation, nor does he really claim any special powers for himself.  He asserts: 'I only do what God wants.'

I always believed that Islam and Christianity shared the same foundation, so I instantly comprehended the ability of Al Masih to ignore the artificial lines drawn between the two great monotheist traditions.

He declares:

'Nothing shall befall us, except what God has ordained.'  (Surah at Tawba, ayat 51)

'There is no deity but God'. (The last sentence of the Shahadah: La ilaha ilallah.  لا إله إلا الله  )

He clearly states as well that:  'If you look for Truth, you may find comfort.  If you look for comfort, you will never find Truth.'

The first point that must be made apparently, in view of the reviews this series has had so far, is that this is FICTION.  Fundamentalist from every side are denouncing the series, calling Al Masih a 'false Messiah'.  In fact, no one walks the Earth as far as I know at this point in time who claims to be the Messiah, or in any case, has demonstrated any evidence that he IS the Messiah.

The title, as well as the passionate desire on the part of human beings in search of and in need of 'rescue' or 'salvation', is what drives the very concept of a Messiah. It is no accident that cults have arisen throughout the ages claiming that the end of the World was nigh, even giving specific dates, locations and times for the 'Second Coming' of the Messiah.  One of these was a woman named Ellen G. White who had a small but devoted following, including the founder of Kellogg's foods, John Harvey Kellogg.  They were members of a cult based on literal interpretations of the Bible.  Counting down using some sort of numerical system, the Seventh Day Adventists announced that Jesue would appear on a hill in Battle Creek, Michigan, in the United States, on 24 March 1843.  When Christ failed to attend the meeting, another date was 'revealed': 21 March 1844.  The followers again awaited the appearance of the Messiah in vain, and a third date was appointed as: 21 October 1844.  One would have thought that THREE false predictions in terms of the Second Coming would have demolished the cult there and then, but after a brief wobble, it continued to grow and still has its fierce, very fundamentalist members.

The Seventh Day Adventists (who bear that name because of their insistence that Sunday is not the Day of Worship decreed by God in the Old Testament, but rather must be the same as the Jewish Sabbath from Friday sundown to Saturday sundown.  Politically, of course, like any good literalist, they believe that the Hebrews were the 'Chosen People' of Yahweh (God), and that translates now to blind support of a Jewish State in Palestine.  For better or worse, this is an issue that has global effects.  The media in general, especially in the West is reluctant to confront it, but 'Messiah' does, and has received both condemnation and approval for its courage in asking hard questions.

On the issue of literalism or literal interpretation of Sacred Texts, I feel that this is the primary reason people become atheists.  There is a world of difference between Faith, which is based simply on a belief and things that cannot be proven, and utter nonsense.  The legends, myths and tales in Sacred Texts are NOT nonsense unless one attempts to accept them literally.   Jesus himself delivered parables on a regular basis, and this, if nothing else, should alert fundamentalist Christians to the danger of accepting any tale in the Old Testament as some kind of literal truth or event.

The series is a little uneven, but it is brilliant nonetheless.  I do not understand why the exploration of our faith should threaten us, whether we are Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Zoroastrian, neo-paganism or any other religion or cult.   The U.S. government agent becomes extremely excited when she discovers that the man known as Al Masih originally came from Iran, and that he studied the art of illusion as a child, that indeed, he could be considered a 'master of illusion'.  What does that actually mean?  Does the fact that he can create magical illusions necessarily signify that he is a fraud?  Does it somehow disqualify his message or his quest?

I watched a Russian series about Rasputin recently as well.  It is interesting to watch from the perspective of comparison of the admittedly sketchy facts about the life of one of the most influential characters prior to the Revolution with the character of Al Masih who has not even been identified conclusively.

Rasputin was from Siberia.  He always evidently was interested in religion but at one point in his early adult life, he actually left his family (including wife and children) to wander throughout the land, exploring the religious experience.  In other words, he looked for God.  He has been accused through the last century of every possible crime, and yet, no crime ever was proven.  He became an effective healer, and he managed to change lives.  Whether he used traditional herbal remedies and medical advice, or whether indeed he was a 'faith healer' never will be known.

Do you believe in miracles or not?  That is one of the questions embedded in the history or depiction of the life of any semi-divine or divine personage, any saint, any one who has done anything that is not fully explained by our own scientific knowledge as it currently exists.  The various arguments often remind me of Mark Twain's depiction of a man who went back in time to the Court of King Arthur, and was able to use his knowledge of a solar eclipse to convince the people in that era that he possessed special magical powers.

In the case of 'Messiah' or 'Al Masih', there are viewers who dislike what they feel is the insertion of the supernatural, and yet, I dispute this as a 'fact' here.  We do not know the basis of the character's actions and whether or not he actually 'controls' the weather like Gods throughout the ages, or whether he simply has foreknowledge of these events with the aid of a very rich individual or organisation.  In the latter case, his appearance at the location where a tornado occurs might be based on weather reports using sophisticated technology.  It is no secret that the technology exists to actually cause rain by a process known as 'seeding clouds'.  Furthermore, television stations and other media have been giving 10 day forecasts for years now.  Al Masih evidently arrives in the States on a private jet.  This suggests that he has some significant funding.  To me, the questions that he asks are more indicative of an individual who is NOT affiliated with any specific government than one who is.  He asks questions that put every nation on the spot.  It is far more likely that he is funded by a rich individual who wants to 'make a difference' in the world.

He declares:  'Everybody worships.  The only choice is what you worship.  Some people kneel to money.  Others to power, to intellect.'

One of the messages I see in the series is that the need to place total faith in any other individual or any religion ultimately is doomed unless you are prepared to take responsibility for yourself and your own destiny.  You must 'own' your own decisions and actions.  Another truth: most people prefer to be led than to lead.  Telling any one else that you know the way to salvation is a daunting prospect for any one with a grain of social or personal sense of responsibility.

There was a time when I worked as a Counsellor both for individuals and for couples.  Most of the time, the people who came to me for advice or help wanted definitive ANSWERS.  They wanted me to tell them what to do.  I had to refuse.  I had to let them know that I only could show them the paths they could take in any given situation but that they themselves had to decide their own goals and how to reach them.  This disappointed and even angered some people.  They wanted security and somehow to be given the permission NOT to have to take responsibility for themselves and in some cases, their families.

For me, one of the essential hints as to the character's relationship to the question of personal responsibility was when he took the rifle from the father of the little boy with the injured dog and shot the dog himself.  Here he does perform an action that places responsibility squarely on his own shoulders and yet it is not the action that is expected of him.  The boy and his father expect that the 'Messiah' will perform a healing, akin to the Biblical and Qur'anic miracles performed by Jesus/Isa of restoring vision to the blind or mobility to the paralysed.  Instead, Al Masih ends the suffering of the poor animal by shooting him.  It is the only 'natural' solution in the circumstances.

This brings me to the 'walking upon water' and other magical 'tricks' or 'illusions' he performs.  They serve a purpose as well by directing the public to the essential questions he asks.  Although we have to wait for the second season, I believe that they are NOT miracles either.  They are the acts of a performer who is demanding attention.  The focus then is not on him but on the important even vital social and political issues he raises.

For any student of history, legend, myth, religion, literature or film, this series is rich in symbolism that alludes to events that are recognisable instantly and therefore resonate in our souls.

Among others:  Moses/Musa leading his people through the desert from 'slavery' to 'freedom', T.E. Lawrence (probably recognised more from the film 'Lawrence of Arabia' by David Lean than his own book, 'Revolt in the Desert') leading his army of volunteers through the desert to Aqaba for a very significant surprise attack from the land.

The battle of Aqaba was NOT sponsored by the British, but instead was a plan Lawrence conceived and he himself took the initiative to act on behalf of Faisal with Sherif Nasir, crossing 600 miles of desert.  It was a turning point in the war for Arab Nationalists.  Ultimately, however, the Arab tribes simply changed one Occupation for another, as few of the Arab nations won any sort of self-determination due to the Sykes-Picot Agreement.

Much of my own life has been spent in pursuit of spiritual truth, in the study of comparative religion, and in attempting to reach God, or at least move towards the Divine rather than going in the opposite direction.  Al Masih therefore appealed to me personally from the start.

Some of the dialogue is brilliant, and some is less than superior.  The visual images are striking.  When al Masih 'walks on water' on the Pool of Reflection in Washington D.C., it is not only dramatic but very beautiful.  The crash landing in a field of red poppies likewise delivers some unforgettable images.  Symbolism is strong here as well.  The Poppy traditionally is the flower of the Underworld, of Persephone/Proserpine.  The 'resurrection' of the Israeli Mossad agent is appropriate in such a setting, and yet was he actually dead???

Another reason I found the series compelling was the courage shown by its exploration of the Palestinian-Israeli conflict from both sides.

It dares to question the fundamental principles on which an apartheid, essentially racist State not only were built, but continues to be supported.  Like Norman Finkelstein and Noam Chomsky, it reveals elements of the truth in a world situation where the Truth is silenced constantly.  In fact, the first review of this series that popped up on Google was written by some non-entity who does not even write a proper review but simply shouts out 'anti-Semitic' and thereby obtains attention from the public, as well as unjustly branding a series that is anything but anti-Semitic.

Let us remember, as so many fail to do, that the Arabs and Jews share a common 'semitic' heritage.  In fact, more Arabs are truly semitic in terms of their ethnic background than many Jews, as Jews are divided between the Ashkenazi or European branch, and the Sephardic or so-called 'Arab' branch.  Why this fact is considered unseemly or politically unspeakable by some should make one question how any facts should be censored.  If indeed the State of Israel is based on justice and equality, why should its proponents or supporters silence that?  Why should not the basis on which it not only exists but continues be open for discussion like any political State or system?

As the series continued to be discovered by viewers, however, more reviews have emerged with different perspectives.

Some Christian fundamentalists declaimed against Netflix, asserting that the series preached a 'false' Messiah.  Some Muslims similarly have lashed out against the series, claiming that the character known as 'Al Masih' is NOT a Messiah, but 'al Masih ad Dajjal', a false Messiah in Islamic tradition.  None of these appear to acknowledge the fact that the series is FICTION.  It is an exercise in provocative thought, not an attempt to create a new cult.

Moreover, the character is identified speculatively as an Iranian named Payam Golshiri.  I do not think the choice of National identity is random.  It places the character outside of the main players in the Israeli Occupation and continuing plight of the Palestinian refugees.  At the same time, it is no accident that this series explores a quest by a (possible) Iranian to change perceptions by the citizens of the U.S., one of the greatest superpowers and one that threatens the heart of Iran itself at this point in history.

Al Masih quotes both the Bible and the Holy Qur'an.  He speaks AGAINST violence and against war.  He declares quite plainly: 'Weapons are not the solution' and calls upon the President of the United States to withdraw all U.S. troops from foreign nations.

It is not only the very volatile international situation that he addresses.  He allowed himself to be placed in detention as an alien, and submits to an American Court for judgement.  This brings the entire topic of U.S. immigration laws and programmes into the series.  He has committed no crimes, and yet he could be held indefinitely in a detention centre without legal representation and help.  What he does actually is refuse the attorney's plan to make his detention a media event and a cause célèbre.  There are in fact many situations he refuses to exploit.

I would like to include part of a review written by Ali Reza for 'Al Hakim', a London publication.  With reference to an hadith by the Holy Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) that deals with the last days of this world, similar to the Book of Revelation in the Bible, he quotes Hazrat Mirza Ghulam Ahmad, who declared:  'My dear people!  These are but metaphors.  Those who are blessed by God with insight will realise their true significance, not only with ease, but with some relish.  Literal interpretation of such subtle and profound metaphors is like distorting beauty into monstrosity.'

Ali Reza writes:  'Hazrat Mirza Ghulam Ahmad showed that in reality, the Messiah was to stop the Jihad of the sword and begin the Jihad of the pen.... he not only addressed Abrahamic religions, but every other religion, including Hinduism and Buddhism.'

This reinforces my own belief that the Divine presence is available to ALL.  What Al Masih does, however, is to attempt to create unity, to assert that we take responsibility ourselves for our own world.

Ultimately, the real point of this series is his question:

'Is your world good?  Is it evil?  Ask yourself: Who is guilty?  Who is innocent?  What are you?  Now look at your neighbour.  Look at your neighbour.  Be brave enough to see yourself.  Your own reflection cast back at you.  Each... reflected in each.  Look where you stand, in a shining city on a hill, in the land of the free and the brave, standing for liberty and justice.  How true do those words ring for you?  When did you bring liberty?  Where did you cause justice?'

Here is the review of the film by Ali Reza:

Messiah Review by Ali Reza for Al Hakam

Al Masih by Ali Reza

The Cancer Industry

I had a follow-up with the Oncology (Chemotherapy and other cancer medications) people today, after having my follow-up with my actual surgeon last week.  What a difference in outlook and treatment recommendations.

My surgeon did a physical exam of my right breast and pronounced it free of tumours.  She said this was a slow-growing cancer that would appear first in the surviving breast if anywhere, and therefore frequent exams would make all the difference.  She said if it were to appear, it usually would do so within the first two years.

Today, the doctor was not even there.  I saw a Nurse Practitioner, who instantly told me about the 'baby cancer' bits floating throughout my body that put me at risk because I refused chemotherapy and was not taking any of the cancer-inhibiting tablets.  She threatened and attempted to bully me into taking the newest experimental 'anti-cancer' drug.

When I asked for a repeat prescription for Lorazepam, a mild anti-anxiety and muscle relaxant, she went off the deep end instantly with a diatribe about its addictive powers and how her mother ended up psychotic in a mental institution because of this particular medication.

Does she not understand that it was not the drug but some inherent insanity in her own family that caused her mother to migrate to a psych ward?  Did she not understand cause and effect?  Furthermore, how could she fail to comprehend that applying a personal situation to a medical diagnosis and personal prejudice was simply UNPROFESSIONAL?

Worse than that, however, was the way she was peddling a new anti-cancer drug as though terror alone should be sufficient to persuade me to enroll in a programme that was essentially experimental in nature with yet another anti-cancer medication that had far more dangerous potential side effects (including CANCER!!!, STROKE!!!, DEATH!!!) than the small quantity of Lorazepam I had taken in the past and had proven helpful.

It never ceases to amaze me how certain buzzwords can rob otherwise sedate, presumably intelligent individuals of ALL dignity and capacity for logic.  Does she not realise this is more of an indictment of her own family genes than of me?  To me, addiction is only as powerful as the desire to be addicted.  When the necessity for the 'addictive' item no longer exists, one ceases to use it.  Sometimes there are brief, uncomfortable moments, but living in constant pain is far worse than any withdrawal from a drug.  Has no one ever made THAT comparison?

Postscript:  I complained about her to my General Practitioner, and received not long after this, a survey from the network that employed the Oncology Nurse Practitioner and was able not only to give her a rating of zero out of ten, but to explain why I was doing so.   I truly believe that this woman either needs to transfer to an area that does not require patient-practitioner interactions, or to learn how to speak to cancer patients.  To tell me essentially that I was DOOMED if I did not surrender to an experimental scheme of treatment was unethical in my view, as well as inaccurate.  I do not wish to ruin this woman's professional career.  I simply wish to make her employer aware of the need to educate her a little in ethics as well as essentially how to behave in a professional manner, and not drive an individual who has lived in absolute terror and gone through hell to leap off a cliff in despair.

The Faces of the Goddess

For the first time in a long time, I have resumed my quest for knowledge of the ancient mysteries in a very real way.  When I think of the Great Goddess, I think first of meteorite, and I do believe that the sacred stone of the Kaaba is meteorite.

There are a number of sacred stones that were regarded by the ancients as somehow more than ordinary minerals, and in most cases, dedicated to the Gods or Goddess.  The traditional necklace of power for pagan priestesses (which is one of the most ancient symbols or attributes of the Goddess, and one that had to be surrendered to Death at the Gate by Inanna, is made from alternating Jet and Amber.  Both are transformed substances that originally existing on this Earth in a different form.  Amber is the fossilised resin of Trees and Jet is the fossilised form of Coal.

Meteorites are stones that the ancients experienced as attacks from the Gods or as dangerous gifts from the Gods, huge, heavy stones hurled at the Earth from the heavens.  Throughout the world, one can find meteorite metal mixed into warriors' blades and symbols of kingship or priesthood.

Yet, the ancient Egyptians used Basalt.  It is a much softer medium, of course, kind to the carver, far easier to move or transport once a statue of a God or Goddess has been fashioned, than an enormous hunk of skystone.

The origin of many Gods is perceived or known by tradition as a Cave.  This is true of the Great Mother, the Goddess Cybele, and this is true of Jesus Christ, born in a 'stable' that actually probably originally was a cave behind an Inn in Bethlehem.  The meaning of the town's name is 'House of Meat' and it is very interesting to read the description of Inanna's descent in the context of the significance of the birthplace of the Christ.

For it was in the Underworld, to which access for the Sumerians always was given through a sort of underground house with steps, that Inanna first surrendered all her attributes and symbols of power and then was hung upon a meathook to be tormented by flies.

Rocks, underground temples, caves, goats, wine, evergreens, sacrifices of manhood or womanhood... dismemberment of gods... all these must be explored.

Today I found a quote about goats:  This is from a book entitled 'The Riddle of the Earth' and focuses too much on the religion of the Hebrews, but even so:

Aaron made images of Golden Calves at Mount Sinai, a Volcano, for the same reason, and Mt. Seir, as the passages show, Goat Mountain, was anotgher volcano.  'Little Goats' is still a term employed by the Spaniards to indicate meteors, and comets or meteors, 'gods that came newly up' were the centre of a cult which as dolmens and cromlechs, pillar stones and round temples of upright stone yield evidence, prevailed throughout Europe, particularly in the British Isles, Brittamy and Normandy and are traced as far afield as America, India, and Japan.'

Hell with it... just add photographs of the text for now:

What interests me here most is the term 'little goats' for use with meteorites.