No flu this year?

Lock-down, we thought it would last a few weeks and then life would resume as normal. Then it was a few months and now it’s questionable if it’ll be a few years or for ever?

Confusing messages came at us from big people who made big decisions – the same people who then blatantly broke the very rules they made and yet, expected everyone else to follow them. First, we were doing it to protect the NHS and now we’re doing it to protect our loved ones. We are law-abiding citizens and want to do the right thing. We are considerate and we follow the rules, even when we know that they are not based on good science.

The government is working on the ‘worst case scenario’. Well respected scientists with a nuanced view on the validity of lock-downs, such as Sunetra Gupta(Oxford), Ivor Cummins(Dublin), Mark Woolhouse(Edinburgh) and Carl Henegan(Oxford) are rubbished by the media and subject to ad hominem attacks.

What about us, the common people? What drives our behaviours? Are we well informed or are we plain scared? The news doesn’t tell us that most people who get the virus get better. It doesn’t tell us that the average age of death in the UK is 82 with or without Covid. It doesn’t tell us that there is no ‘gold standard’ test for the virus and that if you test positive does not mean you have the plague.

Also, we need to have a grown-up conversation about death, which is the only definite fact of life.

November is the month we pay homage to all those who gave their lives to win us our freedoms but this November, we are seemingly, willingly giving our freedoms away.

Fear is a tool for manipulation. It overrides love. It can easily be transformed into hate. Despots throughout history, including Nazis and the Stasi used it effectively to make common people like you and me, enemies of each other.

George Orwell said, “In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act.” I, like many others, have been forced to consider how far I would be driven by my fear – snitch on a neighbour, not see a friend who might be recently bereaved or hurting for any other reason? Am I willing to live the rest of my life being told what I can do and what not? Is this the freedom for which those we remember died?

Now, the World Economic Forum in partnership with the global elite is setting out ‘The Great Reset’ on their website. At the same time BBC and New York Times are calling it a Conspiracy theory. Who am I to believe? This picture was taken from a short promotional video taken from a clip on Twitter, posted by the WEF. When I went back to look for it, it was gone.

Whatever the truth, I refuse to let fear rule.

In my world, love rules.

Home

Who knows?

Posted by kidsaregifts20

12 days ago I left my home and husband with a strange sense of ‘last-ness’. Si and I are familiar with that uncomfortable feeling. We know that the whole world can change in one second. 12 days is a long time.

Melbourne, Australia, was my final destination when I left home to complete my Churchill fellowship. On the way, I broke my journey for a week in India. I find it impossible to fly over India to go to other places without stopping. There, I watched in horror how much India’s centre has moved to the right. It has gone so far that the words ‘liberal’ and ‘secular’ are now bad words. My closest friend there is a Muslim gentleman whom I have known for the last 23 years and have never thought of him as a Muslim. But now I fear for his safety. I fear for the safety of all my family as I know that when there is fire, some are damaged by flames but many more by smoke.

So, here I am, in Melboune, at a house, rented through AirBnB and so much has happened in these 12 days. I have never understood the need for 24-hour News Channels as they endlessly repeat themselves, induce panic and heighten pre-existing anxieties. Many people are petrified. They are understandably worried about themselves and their loved ones. The restrictions being imposed are causing more isolation and angst. Italian prison scenario is a very sad example.

This is a good time to observe the effect news has on you, pay attention to your feelings and take a break when you need to, from the constant ranting of various media. I am doing that. I am keeping myself informed, connected and calm. I am not willing to allow the situation to affect my mind too much. I am taking all the precautions as advised and that is the best I can do. WHO sensibly says let’s look after our bodies and minds.

I suspect that death rates from this virus are being hugely exaggerated. They are based on projections from those who have been tested, but many people, all over the world have had a cold or flu over Jan and Feb and have not been tested. So, where does the truth lie?

No one knows. That is the answer. No one knows.

Momento Mori – Unpopular Thoughts on Corona Virus

The knot of ‘me’.

Posted by kidsaregifts20

Must’ve been confusing for him, for he was a happy kid.
He had enough joy in him to fill many lives and lifetimes.
His light was enough to illuminate the entire Universe.

He was my sweet child.
He was born to me.
He was mine.

That’s where the pain sits.
In the ‘me’ and the ‘mine’.

There is suffering.
This is my suffering.

I miss him like hell.
He is greatly missed.

I could’ve, should’ve …
Things could’ve been different.

Only if I had been aware enough.
If we all are aware, we can stop this unnecessary heartache.

The prison of ‘me’ keeps me glued on one blood-splattered spot. My feet forever red. What if I was’nt a woman or a man, grand-father or Aunt, a janitor or a bus-driver, a traveller or a house-holder, urban or rural, a pop-singer or a vagabond, black, brown or beige, middle aged or infant? What if I had no labels. Then who would I be?

Would the pain be as deep as ‘mine’?

Can I break these shackles of conditioning and be pure consciousness? Can I escape this convenient web of fiction and dive into the deepest layers of pristine Beinghood?

Yes. Sometimes. When I allow the magic of the rhythm of the breath to work. To be anchored in this ecstatic moment.

It is all a dream.

Posted by kidsaregifts20

Dream

When I stood in front of all those people, my arms were branches of an old oak flailing in a wild wind, my throat was shouting out commands like a drill sargeant at the top of his voice, my eyes were wide open and desperate to get through to everyone in the room. My chest was an erupting volcano and my feet had thrown deep roots into the ground. I invited Saagar and all my angels to help me as I felt exposed. The ‘normal’ part of me wanted to protect Saagar and me from people’s judgements. I am sure some were being made as I spoke. That is ‘normal’ too. But the mother in me stood like a warrior, absolutely disregarding any consequence, complete in the conviction that this was the right thing to do. It was difficult but it was worth doing.

Three times this week. Three times I got to show Saagar off to a bunch of doctors – 250 and 18 and 9. So, 277. They saw the light in his eyes. They now know that many suicides are preventable. They know the stigma and silence of mental illness and suicide. They know that every mention of suicidal thoughts should be taken seriously. That if they notice a colleague, a friend or a family member behaving strangely, they can ask them ‘Are you ok?’ And whatever the answer, they can deal with it. They know that it’s ok to go as far as asking, “Are you thinking of ending your life?” It’s difficult but worth doing. It might save a life. That no one is immune. That everybody can make a difference. That many doctors are lay people when it comes to suicide and believe in popular myths. That doctors, dentists and vets are very high risk groups and need to take good care of themselves and each other. That the medical curriculum is all about physical illnesses. That Mental Health services are broken in this country and we all need to educate ourselves and strongly advocate for our near and dear ones if, God forbid, the need arises. That charities like Papyrus do a great job of helping young people. That when it comes to suicide, there is only prevention. No cure. They now know when, where and how to find help.

Later on, a young lady chatted with me about how useful she found the content of my presentation and how it helped that it was delivered in such a calm and composed manner. Really? Was she talking about me?

Ref: Art of Conversation (NHS Scotland) :
http://www.healthscotland.com/documents/2842.aspx

Thank you, Mr Bronx.

Posted by kidsaregifts20

He came to us as a little girl in 2004, from Antrim Animal Sactuary. We called him ‘Bella’ for a week before the vet told us he was a little boy. One of his ears had a wedge missing, a sign of having lived rough. That didn’t take his sweetness away. He jumped to the top of kitchen cabinets and mewed in protest for being locked up indoors. He loved being outside in the sun, watching the world go by and making friends with it. He played with anything – hair, wool, food, the mint plant, newspapers, laptops. He brought a light and joyful energy into our house.

He slept under my bed and some mornings I woke up, looking straight into his eyes. We had long conversations where each of us listened and allowed a gap after the other finished their sentence before starting to speak. Saagar was endlessly amused by this intimate interaction beyond language, where everything was being expressed and understood. In the evening, while I sat watching TV, Mr Bronx sat watching me.

Stroking him saved my life. He received love generously. That alone was enough.

He happily adopted the neighbours by pretending he wasn’t being fed at home. One day I found a note through my door. ‘Please feed your cat’ it said. Later I also found out that one of my lovely neighbours had set up a Facebook page to find support for this poor black and white cat on his street! Thank you, Bronx!!!

A few months ago the vet said that his thyroid and kidneys were not working very well. She put him on a special diet and some meds. We ran some blood tests, which indicated that he was slowly approaching the end of his life. So, we made the most of our time together, playing and eating and a lot of loving. Si found out Mr Bronx loved organic chicken. He treated him and himself to it often.

Last Friday Mr Bronx got a bit wobbly on his feet. On Saturday, all he wanted was to lie down. We spent the whole day together in the sun, listening to music and Radio 4, saying hello to passers-by and talking. That night he peacefully slipped away in his sleep. He now rests in his favourite place, our garden. Love you, Mr Bronx. Thank you.