Is Christopher Luxon a liar or deluded?

Will Luxon resign if rents don’t stop rising? No! What a crock of crap. What happened when Student allowance went up by 50.00 per week? https://www.stuff.co.nz/a/nz-news/350211394/pm-christopher-luxon-argues-renters-will-be-grateful-interest-deductibility?lid=m8nx4u1zsz2r&utm_source=newsletters&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=two_minutes_of_stuffLandlords almost universally lifted their rents when this happened. This is not a bash the Landlord post. Currently you can get 6.5% interest on fixed term, with first mortgage security on low risk investments. So Lets say I bought a rental for 800,000 k with a 400,000 deposit. That 400 k could earn me 26000.00 gross or 500.00 per week. If I wanted a 6.5%cash return on a 800,000.00 dollar home (1000.00 per week) I would need to be getting about 65000.00 per year in rent or 1250.00. I would be paying 2,606 per month over 60 years for the mortgage or interest only 2200.00. It is not the job of a commercial landlord to subsidise housing. The responsibility for the provision of affordable, safe, healthy housing lies at the feet of society via the State, the Church, NGOs or Charitable organisations. We as a society can afford to do this, we cannot afford the consequences of not doing so. We have seen these consequences From The mid 1970’s on, the initial instigators of this were in fact Labour and then National doubled down. This will only end when those who are most affected by this actually use their electoral power and vote in a Government that will deal with this. The biggest problem with Labour’s last term was squandering its electoral mandate on issues that actually would not have addressed the prime roots of poverty in our society and that is the cost of housing. This is not about higher wages or benefits it is about lower rents and an ability to buy property at an affordable price. Here endeth the lesson.

A Dollar In My Pocket

I was talking with someone today, they had pair of vintage dungarees accidentally disposed of. I know the back story and even helped trying to find such a pair. I understood, empathised and advised how to put it into perspective. I have lost some things in my life that at the time were quite devastating. It reminded me of how small things can seem huge.

I was off shopping for Christmas presents when I was 12. I had my own money I had saved, $8.00. I had a job where I got paid $1;00 per day for delivering groceries on a behemoth of a bicycle. On this day I had bought all the presents I needed and had one dollar left. I felt like a rich man, I reached into my pocket and out it fluttered, quickly scooped up by the person behind me whom when I asked for it back said “finders keepers”. I was devastated, I even went to the Police who said sorry sonny, no proof, can’t help. That was it. In the scheme of things it didn’t matter as I had bought everyone a present, the last $1.00 was going to possibly buy me an ice cream soda. Now why would I remember this 50 years later, even now as I think about it I remembered an earlier loss of a coping saw, brand new and left on a bus. Another incident occurred the week of my first wedding (I know married more than once the loss in that is a whole nother story). I was in town to pick up the suits. I got to the shop and reached into my pocket for the $60:00 and it was gone, I rushed off to backtrack my steps but came back empty-handed, the proprietor said I see you have a cheque book sir, I said yeah but not the money in it to pay for the suits, he said post date it for two weeks and then we will worry about it then. Although I was relieved and thankful the fact that it has stuck in my memory indicates to me that it was a significant blow.

I have yet to work out why some of my most embarrassing, hurtful and frustrating moments seem to be indelibly scorched into my memory. Sure there are moments of triumph and wonder that still reside there. Perhaps I will do some reading about it as I think it is an important factor and can bog us down or leave us stuck when what is essentially a moment in time can impact us in a big way yet the thing is really trivial. I know it didn’t seem trivial then and everything needs perspective however the biggest perspective is that we come into this world with nothing and we take with us out of this world nothing material.

I have a judeo-christian set of beliefs about this life however my beliefs about the next are pan, that is they will pan out in the end. In many ways it is not about what we lose in this life it is about what we leave behind. What is our legacy? What memories do we leave behind for others? What impact on others do we leave behind? It is those things that really matter. I am not talking about money here, I am talking about things that help lives change. It is those moments that cancel out feelings of loss. Looking back and seeing the impact on others, (sometimes we will never see that impact).

Psychologist Julius Segal, in looking at what helps children overcome adversity, wrote that “one factor turns out to be the presence in their lives of a charismatic adult — a person from whom they gather strength. And in a surprising number of cases, that person turns out to be a teacher”. Being an influence that overcomes the adversity of others is not limited to teaching we must remember that if we mourn the loss of $1:00 how much more we must celebrate the people in our lives who bring the gift of overcoming adversity. In doing so and realising this we need to be intentional in doing this in any way we can, whether it be small or large actions. We never know when the smallest act can make a difference.

With love

Paul

Beware Tiredness Lives Here

Over the last 5 years, I have lived with an almost constant perfidious, strength-sapping, motivation-stealing tiredness. I have been involved in a voluntary capacity with a number of community groups however along with my seemingly unending tiredness, intolerance like a cancer has grown. My capacity to engage with people, especially idiots in a respectful and meaningful way has crumbled to a point where even my give a flying fornication jar has become empty.

My appetite for meeting and getting to know new people is still strong unless of course they are conspiracists, racists, sexists or any other lists. Until covid hit I was unaware of how many blathering idiots surrounded me. As we have navigated the post covid environment it hasn’t got better, it has become worse. In one of the facebook groups I follow, a poster believed that there was a conspiracy at work because in two towns a water main had burst in consecutive weeks. They then went on about all the deliberate poisoning that councils were engaged in by adding real and imagined chemicals here is a sample “(I am always) on guard when it comes to gov entities and what they are doing to us as a collective whole. Our water is contaminated with heaps of poisons and nobody is questioning it. Fluoride is one, arsenic is another, chlorine is another. Just like using 1080. I’ll keep my eyes and ears for the next near town to have this exact same so called issue. I’m uncomfortable watching multiple towns have water main issues within a close proximity of time.” Now I know I shouldn’t judge others but sadly this is a not uncommon thing.

Fortunately I didn’t have to engage with this person face to face (I could have also chosen not to engage with them on facebook). It is the face to face idiots I cannot cope with, the rude abusive people, those who abuse volunteers and others. People who think that it is great to try and disrupt a wedding with their protests that are pure madness. Yes I respect their right to engage in free speech however their freedom should not impact on others rights to go about their business. In short my jar of tolerance is very, very, very empty.

Paul

Beware Here There Be Idiots

Dumbo’s Friend

Who can remember the name of the mouse that was Dumbo’s friend in the movie about the flying Elephant? Well as it turns out I can. I regularly do a Newspaper Quiz, I average around 12 out of 15, sometimes even ace it.

Memory is a funny thing. I incurred what is described as a minor traumatic brain injury (I think it was about 4 years ago). I was hit in the head by a rock the weight of a 24-ounce hammer, and then kicked in the head by the same person who was wearing steel cap boots, You can read that story here.wordpress.com/post/kiwipaulspoetry.word… This is not about that and it is. I incurred some memory issues, often just periods of slow recall, forgetfulness about small tasks, birthdays, well sometimes. Yet I can remember the name of a Mouse in a movie from my Childhood (Timothy) and equally obscure I can remember that there are three rules are listed in Dua Lipa’s New Rules? What the actual? I have no real idea of who Dua Lipa is? Ok, Google tells me she is a singer-songwriter. I rarely listen to commercial radio, my radio is permanently tuned into Radio New Zealand National programme, (Aotearoa New Zealand’s equivalent of the BBC). I do listen to music programmes on that station however I could tell you the name of one of Dua’s songs, let alone recognise a tune. I realise however memory is like a muscle it has to be used, exercised and rebuilt otherwise it becomes smaller, weaker, and prone to injury (forgetfulness). So I purposely continue to read, look at new research, analyse the news and test it via quizzes etc.

No matter that I still forget my words sometimes (an occupational danger for someone whom others describe as a walking dictionary) I find them somewhere. The biggest long-lasting issue from my head injury is concentration. I have become aware that I need to concentrate more when I am driving. My spatial and speed awareness is still very good, I have however missed some visual clues to behaviour (red lights). That knowledge is power so I am now far more vigilant and I haven’t needed an infringement notice to remind me ( a helpful son has been good). The other significant symptom that has endured is a significant loss in my IQ. No, not my intelligence Quotient but my idiot quota. Idiots including Bigots; racists, misogynists, homophobes, religious pharisaical plonkers, conspiracist theorists, our world is full of them. As I have written before I have learnt to sit on my hands so I don’t slap stupid people, my ability to sit on my tongue has diminished. I can however walk away and will do so. No point in arguing with idiots or engaging in a battle of wits. My father always said don’t fight unarmed opponents.

Dear God, there has been a mass disarmament either occurring or becoming clear since the emergence of covid. If you want evidence, look at people who cut and paste on their Facebook pages notices instructing Meta what they can and can’t do, the irony of having ticked the terms and conditions of using a privately owned platform and expecting to be able to limit their power whilst you use their platform is palpable, the ignorance and lack of critical literacy screams out like a 20-metre bill board, the message reads “Beware Here There Be Idiots”.

Moral dilemmas,

I have been through a few, some I have failed at, others well I have managed to stand true. I am fortunate, I have a place to live, food to eat, even some toys. I am living week to week at the moment but I still have choices and I can improve my lot.

Some time ago I bought a small boat, not a lot of money, however enough. I have been out fishing three times. I want to fish more but needed to make some adjustments. I am safety-wise, I have life jackets, VHF, cell phone, first aid, and fire extinguisher and I won’t go out of the Harbour at the moment as I lack the experience to go across the bar at Waihi Beach. I am a member of Coastguard and put in trip reports (p.s. you don’t need to be a Coastguard member to put in trip reports).

I decided I would get a backup motor, I had two I had bought cheap, and regretted it, hard to start, I scrapped them this week. So I bought a brand new motor. Unboxed it and was gobsmacked, instead of the 999.00 motor in the box there was a 1600.00 one. Now as far as the law is concerned it was mine, a contract had been entered into and money exchanged hands. It felt good for a little while and I found myself justifying keeping the motor. That was dilemma number 1, very shortly after dilemma number two appeared.

I decided I better register my boat trailer and get it legal. I checked the registration plate and it was listed as stolen. My heart fell to my boots, you see for me that’s a no-brainer. It doesn’t belong to me. I may have bought it but stolen is stolen! I had a small pity party then called the Police, took that which was mine off the boat and hitched it up to my car. At the same time, I reboxed the motor and put it into the back of my car. Law or no law my conscience couldn’t keep it. Times are tough and retailers cannot afford to lose 600.00. I took the boat to the Police and returned the motor.

I would love to tell you that I felt great but actually, I didn’t. The boat thing happened as I did not do a fundamental check and run the plate number through the system. If it wasn’t listed as stolen or a security registered against it I would have been covered via an insurance system. To be fair I had ignored my niggles, it was;t super cheap or anything, there was just a quiet voice and I was ignoring it as I didn’t want to lose any money.

The Police Constable said you could have kept this thrown away the number plate and sampling removed the plate number that was painted on. I said it comes down to this I call myself a follower of Christ (thank God for Grace as sometimes I am not that flash at it) I also believe in integrity then there are the other po (posts that inform ny life). My Family and friends. A house that has only three walls or posts is not very strong. In the end if I have nothing but God, Family, Integrity and Friends then that is enough, I am a rich man.

Well I got a call from the Police, the only stolen thing on my boat was the number plate, the boat was not listed as stolen and the trailer that the plate matched was not a boat trailer. Could I please come and pick it up from the lock-up. I felt good, but not vindicated. I didn’t see it as a reward for doing the right thing. I got the money back that I had put down on the motor, so I decided to wait for an auxiliary rather than buy the one I was going to. That money needed to go to help some people who are away from their families working. to support them and I am putting on a Christmas Lunch for them. Once again I don’t feel that I am good and I don’t expect any reward here’s why.

My reward in life comes from knowing that doing the right thing as an outworking of my faith is my reward. To maintain faith in a living and practical way that also demonstrates how faith should be is something that the church just doesn’t do very well. Many people try however for many others, they go to church on a Sunday, they may put some money in the plate and that’s it.

Here is the kicker. Times are really tough for a lot of people right now, New Zealanders from the middle to the bottom of the economic scale are being smacked around in every corner. I will talk about that in my next post,

Be Strong and steadfast,

Paul

Hamlet, Really? Yes!

“To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles…” https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/56965/speech-to-be-or-not-to-be-that-is-the-question .

Most recently I wrote a message to my beautiful daughter, she provides administrative services online and can work virtually anywhere in the world. I am not sure if I regret the message or not. How deeply does one communicate with ones children? How much of struggle and uncertainty should one share? Why share with her when she is half a world away? Well one of those answers is that she was on my mind and I decided to message here and what came out was typical of my neurally diverse mind, stream of consciousness barely filtered writing.

I can see the thought trains running, what has this got to do with Hamlet? Well recently I enrolled to complete a teacher refresher course so that I can go back into the classroom. Let me clear being a teacher is not a career for those who are of a more delicate constitution, the filth, the verbal and physical attacks and the general chaos of our education system is bruising and challenging (if you care). However, I am recovering from the head injury that has kept me from the classroom. I will be 61 years old soon and I have reached a place in my life where some crossroads are imminent. The question is if not teach then what? Write? If I write how will I earn? The second crossroad is health. My health is somewhat indifferent with ongoing health issues which are frustrating and limiting. So..

Into the study I go, it doesn’t seem to be too much of a challenge, I am no stranger to the world of academia. The second is health. We know that our health system is overrun, overworked underfunded and generally more messy than a truckload of offal overturned on a main road. We live in a time where the number one concern is paying too much tax, closely followed by the usage of Maaori in official names and communications and the moral peril of Co-governance. To think that those issues decide the outcome of an election is an obscenity and reflects on Aotearoa as being a greedy, racist country where money buys political influence. Any country whose Government attacks efforts to lower smoking rates to fund tax cuts is an odious stain on those who voted for the shower of detestable scat. FDair pay agreements gone, so the payment to women (mainly) for their work is according to Ms Willis (Minister of Finance) merely a function of the market. If companies make more money that will pay their workers more, what kind of horse shit is that!

Now don’t think that I believe Labour is without blame in this, they wasted an overwhelming electoral mandate by allowing internecine conflict to continue within the party and put its efforts into trying to convince the unconvinceable of the merits of co-governance, they should have just done it and got one with building homes, rebuilding hospitals and investing in our health care and education systems. They may still have lost the election however at least it would have been a principled loss rather than a capitulation through a lack of vision and action.

Now after all that I am tired and I feel that perhaps I haven’t said anything at all, therein lies my question. To be or not to be?

Paul

Gloriavale (Not all Heroes wear a Cape)

Hopeful and Victory Disciple, remeber those names. They are two of a long list of people who have escaped the clutches of the cult called Gloriavale. If you are not from New Zealand follow this link here which can give you a potted hostory of Gloriavale.https://teara.govt.nz/en/video/28133/gloriavale. Think well I don’t know how to compare them but a cult they are. Similar to the Exclusive Bretheren but worse if that can be immagined.

Hopeful and Victory Disciple a caouple who left Gloriavale with their children commented on the school. Victory had intimate knowledge of the school as she was a fromer student and also a teacher at the school. It was at first interesting as Victory described the school, how girls were taught upto the age of 16 in one class by an early childhood teacher, where as the boys recieved a slightly wider education from a senior teacher. The girls are essentially taught to cook, clean, sew and how to look after children. All women at Gloriavale work, they run a preschool and those who don’t work there are either cooking in the communal kitchen, sewing the communal uniforms or cleaning the communal spaces. The men might be farmers, process workeres, builders, all the jobs that are needed to keep a community running.

The Education review Office just delivered a damning report on the school that Gloriavale runs for its children. It wouldn’t be out of place in a Siberian Gulag, a place for indoctrination and making the children into complete robots, good little Gloriavalians. a private school to keep the children away from the evil influences of the outside world like careers, equality, free choice, https://www.rnz.co.nz/national/programmes/checkpoint/audio/2018913552/resounding-failure-for-gloriavale-school-in-latest-ero-report.

Victory then started to talk about the punishment in the school. The teachers were admonished to ad minister corparal punishment to any child who got out of line. I wondered, where is this going to go, will the interviewer ask her did she also assault the children? To my surprise he did. With only a slightest hesitation with a voice brimming with emotion she said that she did. I thought does she know what she is saying, confessing to assault? She clearly did, she said that she intensely disliked it however was pressured into administering the punishment. She was clearly remorseful and ashamed. The interviewer then asked her husband hopeful did he have anything he wanted to say.

The interviewer aske Hopeful how the children were adjusting to school, I was interested in this as well. Hopeful said they were homeschooling their children. I quickly thought really? Hopeful said that they did so because their children were so traumatised by their treatment at school that they were too anxious to send them to school. Hopeful went on to say that it wasn’t until they got out of the community that they realised how much hurt the school had inflicted on them. The next statement was a straight shooting explanation of how they had personally contributed to the trauma and abuse that happed at school by essentially modelling it at home. He said it was heart breaking, sitting and listening to their children tell them about how broken and hurt they were by the way they had been treated.

Hopeful said it was a slow progress building trust in the children and allowing them space to speak about the abuse that he and Victory had done to their children. Somethings stood out to me. Hopeful and Victory did not shy away from being identified as past members of the cult, their continued use of their names marks them out as have being members. Secondly they did not resile from the facts that they had also abused their children. Thirdly Hopeful voiced his concern about the 50 or so nieces and nephews that were still at Gloriavale. They said the school should be shut down and implied so should the community.

Now none of this is particularly new news, it is however eye witness testament to the culture. The question that needs to be answered by the authorities like the Child Welfare (Oranga Tamariki) the Education review Office, the Ministry of Education, with this and all the other information they have are they really going to allow the school to continue, the ERO says they will return in 12 months and conduct another review, woopy do fire truck do. The evicdence of continuing abuse is clear, softly softly is not the approach. In my next blog I will talk about how I attempted to get Oranga Tamariki to act upon the clear and present danger that existed at Gloriavale.

This failing of the authorities is in the end a failure of society, we have allowed this to continue, shame on us, that includes me.

Paul

Teen Angst to 60 Year Old Satisfaction (Almost)

Recently a 3 year old boy was in the news because no-one turned up for his party however socail media came to the rescue, https://www.stuff.co.nz/life-style/wellbeing/parenting/133203054/familys-plea-after-nobody-shows-at-3yearolds-birthday-brings-community-to-beach. Birthdays for me that I am cognisant of in my teens were les than humdrum, more boredome. It doesn’t help when your birthday is in the summer school holidays. Nor does it help when you are considered a geek and someone who was not invited to parties, certainly not someone whose party you went to. Growing up in a Shit Town didn’t help, Morrinsville where Rugby was sport, alcohol was entertainment and romance was a fumble in a car at Piako Beach, (a road gravel depot which flooded when it rained). I am not going to go on about provincial New Zealand because it is what it is, nothing much cahnges, to be different in Provincial New Zealand is still like hanging a target on your back. I digress however.

I decided when I was going to turn 15 that I would have a birthday party and invited people. I was naive in that I thought if you invited people they would come however unless you were “popular” then only friends would come and friends were in rather short supply for me. I had one person turn up and one person rang and apologised they couldn’t come. The fact that I remember it is evidence that it was a source of some hurt.

This year I turned 60 and invited people, a lot came,friends family, relatives it was great. A good time had by all.Interesting that sometimes a party is not defined by who came, rather who didn’t come. It is hard to change ones mindset and focus on the event and celebrate the good times. It requires a mindset change. It should remind us to cultivate those relationships that are important to us, celebrate having friends and familiy who are important to us and to above all else be grateful.

My learning this week is to be intentional and relational and reach out to those who are important to you, those who are lonely, those who are different.

If you get an unexpected call from the blue from me and have read this blog well it is upto you to define our relationship and where you fit into my description because as sure as David Seymour is an unctious prick, I won’t be telling you that you are different.

Paul

Scribo Ergo Cogito (I think therefore I write)

Hallelujah or really? I have started to write again, it has been a long slow progress, getting my writing mojo going again. Lots of reasons why such a lengthy hiatus they can be … oh I know blog posts. Highly personal, sometimes offensive, potty-mouthed at times however authentic, a reflection of me if you wish, so lets start at the very beginning of the decline as it were, (as good as any place) I think, it all started with a door (that’s another subject as well, doors).

I was trying to crack the nod as it were as a provisional teacher, I did some relief at a school and they offered me a short-term reliving contract (two terms). It was a hospital pass that I didn’t see coming. I was to be the 5th teacher in two terms to tackle a class of year nine pupils teaching English. These young people were at the bottom of the learning ratings with behavioural issues and learning difficulties at all sorts of levels, from coming to school high on meth, through to being bone tired because they were working to help support their families. I didn’t ask the right questions so essentially it was my own fault, I went ahead and did it. One of the teachers had been on extensive time off because of a concussion issue, the others had bailed in varying states of distress or thankfulness that they had escaped.

The night before I was due to start I was horsing around with one of my sons, pretending to chase him with a fairly large hammer (just under 2 kgs). I chased him into the bedroom and he shut the door on me knocking me out. Needless to say, I didn’t feel the best! However, I soldiered on anyway as I didn’t;’t want to ring the school and say I had concussion. (I clearly did). (Strike 1) The first day there one of my more polite students when asked to engage enquired of me “Would you like me to knock you the fuck out…., sir?) I had to add the polite bit really. At that point I should have bailed and just gone heck no I won’t go, however, permanent jobs were few and far between, with many very experienced teachers selling their Auckland homes and moving to the Waikato cashed up and able to buy freehold and in some instances even a place at the beach as well.

I had earlier applied for a one-term relieving position and the Principal let me know that they had 45 applicants for the job and that I shouldn’t feel bad as the person who took it was fully registered and had 15+ years of experience. I had trained on the basis of English Teachers being in hot demand however found that was not so in the Waikato, I desperately wanted to be working rather than the alternatives so I was prepared to commute to Auckland daily (strike 2).

I persevered, throwing everything in the book that I had from freestyling rap lessons to refusing to allow some students in the class to attend due to their ongoing behavioral issues. The school in question straddled a divide between some fairly affluent suburbs through to what some might say were effluent. The culture of the school seemed to be rather insular (partly I guess because of its size) and partly due to the way it structured its learning, add a new Principal in and it was not a cohesive place.

Back to strike 1, tiredness and fatigue dogged me, apart from the 4-hour commute there and back and being a full-time sole parent to 4 I was clearly out of my depth. Having just come from a dysfunctional school where a senior staff member had been committing sexual crimes against pupils I wanted to work it out and hopefully that would help crack the nod for a permanent position.

Concussion injuries manifest in a myriad of ways I have found out. I was simply dumb in continuing in the job. To be frank I was out of my depth, I was struggling, didn’t really know where to turn to, I didn’t fit in the highly urban environment, it was foreign to me and I didn’t fit in with the staff. I don’t point any fingers around that, I was a very small cog in a very big clock, and in the end, if I had stopped working the clock may have skipped a second but then with a step like a rugby winger bursting through his opponents, it would have kept on ticking.

The end came when a student (without malice or intent) crept up to a door I was holding and pulled it out of my grasp in the process blowing my shoulder apart, it wasn’t helped when an eager newly qualified physiotherapist thought traction would sort it after all it was merely bursitis (a misdiagnosis). I finished my term at the school. I guess it probably looked cloudy however I was unable to drive for 4 hours a day and cope with the shoulder injury as well as coping with concussion. I had been going to apply for a permanent position however I was told not to bother as it was already earmarked for another beginning teacher.

To say I was disappointed was true, I constructed my own narrative of my time at the school instead of just accepting that I am not a round peg. This narrative when I look back is embarrassing, frankly stupid, and unnecessary, there is nothing wrong with admitting you cannot cope or you do not fit. In the end, it was pretty irrelevant as my shoulder injury was somewhat more extensive than what was first diagnosed with my hands turning different colours, a huge loss of strength and mobility, and add the ongoing concussion issues I didn’t continue teaching.

I had stepped away from statutory social work, burnt out from all the assaults and threats, retrained, and found myself in a place where actually on a numerical basis the assaults threats and pure antagonism were worse than working at Child Youth and Family, (the only difference was that the assaults were much more minor). I had not understood when I left the Department that I needed to carry my registration through so without another two possibly three years of study I was not able to be a registered social worker, essentially consigning me to working as under valued, underpaid, overworked resource worker.

I guess that is really enough for today, my shoulder is certainly telling me that, and brain fog is slowly descending again. So I will leave it there to continue.

Paul

I’m Tired (its the human condition)

Conflict wears me out. It grinds me down and dries my spirit, soul and body. Sometimes there is no ethical choice apart from engaging with an issue and that often leads to conflict. As much as I will still engage in issues I have learnt to pick my battles, know when to yield, know when to stand and know when to walk away. I should have learnt it a long time ago but there it is.

I walked away from a group recently, theier mysygony, racism, ableism and every other ism in the book you could think of just became too much. As individuals they are nice enough people, they mean well and are generous with their time and money often. They are however dinosaurs who are stuck in times past and cannot break free from their thought patterns, you can throw a dice and take your pick why people choose to remain with beliefs that at the best are immoral. Religion, politics, personality, hurts fear they are all there to choose from. The biggest of these in my humble opinion, (a wee pause whilst you all laugh at my use of the word humble… ) ok that’s enough people.

Fear is based on the unknown and an unwillingness to grapple with that. What if someone looked at their racist attitudes and saw they were wrong, what then? Change, redress, possibilities of vulnerability, relationships at danger? All real fears. I am happy to go out on a limb and say it takes real intyegrity and bravery to admit you were wrong, the older you are the harder it gets. We that is in the communal we actually reinforce the notion of not admitting our failings. From Kings and Queens to Politicians, Prime Ministers, Presidents through to the completely average person have grown up in a world where being wrong is hard wired to feelings of fear of the consequences.

Much is said of restorative justice, however in a world where injustice prevails everyday, enabled by society, the state the church, clubs, individuals, political parties justice is a a very rare beast, almpost as hard to find as rocking horse scat. Martin Luther King said “Human progress is neither automatic nor inevitable… Every step toward the goal of justice requires sacrifice, suffering, and struggle; the tireless exertions and passionate concern of dedicated individuals”. This is why I still engage because not to do so is unjust. The key to surviving is to detirmine what you can do and when, how much can you care, surely one would go mad if one was to rail at every injustice in the world (externally). It is fine and healthy to be aware of injustice, doing so makes sure your reflective lens is in place and it keeps one honest.

I have realised that my limits are somewhat smaller than what I thought them to be which is a nice segue back into the title of my blog. As you may or perhaps may not know I have had cardiac rythym issues, they seem to be well managed however one of the medications just knocks me I can wake up tired and continue in that for the rest of the day. The post concussion syndrome doesnt help either. The good news is that eventually I will be able to stop that medication and very very slowly my concussion symptoms are abating, (hence the writing). The bad news, well it could be 6 months to a year before I can change medications. The problem with the medication is that my pulse rate sits at around 54 and doesn’t increase to much above 70 when under load, which doesn’t allow enough oxygyn to power the exertion.

Small steps towards more cardiac fitness will help as will weight loss. As to my brain fog well being hit on the head witha 900 gm stone doesnt help, nor some subsequent falls however re-engaging the left side of my brain does help, so trying to instill discipline back into my writing will eventuall help that it does tire me as does conflict however that which doesn’t kill me, postpones the inevitable but it does help climb above the walls, swim the moats and walk the fields.

Paul