No. As the Pyramids are understood by many, trembling and fearful ranks of Egyptian slave men pushed and hauled giant blocks to mark tremendous points of energy on Earth, triangle-shaped tombs for departed leaders. We can imagine slave girls in leather brassieres and skirts of bird-feather and twine, Egyptian beauties shimmering with flesh soaked by the never-shrinking sun, drunk on wine, a vision of an apparatus with no more technology than what could float a raft in the river or raise a shelter in the vast desert.
All false, and hung on a myth that keeps humans organizing themselves like a slave assembly, where all power and competence are enacted as though by the living hand of God–it is a design conceived with the Pharaohs’ tombs in the mind’s eye.
As Ancient Egypt exerted its dominance, so too did reigning attitudes about a solidarity of people which became absolutely entrenched by the Pyramid’s sway, infiltrating the essence of the civilized world, as many understand it, an effort of many slaves.
The most earnest high school history teacher, the librarian who holds a catalog of records in disruptively accurate bookshelves, the Egyptian fantasist with his movie monster posters; all three present the mythology that the Pyramids were built with an outpouring of sweat and single-mindedness, the impossible, expansive tombs built from heavy rocks in cubes, hoisted by rope and ancient pulleys. Into the shape of three-dimensional Pyramids were constructed elaborate tombs, laid for departed Pharaohs of renown. Gizeh is the best-known.
It is the same will to organization and legacy throughout the Western world in the twenty-first century, where gentlemen in running shoes or luxury cars or perhaps dining in a capacity to manage what others might characterize as savage, to have plates and pints brought round by pleasant servers, the bosom and the heart. Gizeh’s tomb marked the first wine-and-dine.
Where will it end? As long as there are workers who are unsung, the dominion of the ancient Pharaohs will maintain its control. Update your browser.
The above is intended as an aside only. The International Day of Charity is observed annually on 5 September.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day. I’m a Canadian every other day of the year.
When I was a boy, my godmother bought me a coffee table book celebrating Ireland. It followed that in grade school, I thought to turn a work assignment about other countries into homework on the subject of Ireland. I flipped through the book to do the research (that I could do at that age) for the teacher.
The photos in the book illustrating Irish women helped shape my attitudes to the fairer gender, as well. I briefly visited the UK in the fall of 1999, but I didn’t go to Ireland.
There is a friend I know whose parents are Irish. This friend is not fond of the English, despite what I know from grade school about the role the English played shaping Canada.
At the same time, this person has a different understanding of how the Irish fared in history than I have got. That said, when my mother asked me the other day whether I am prouder of Dublin or Belfast, I found myself answering Belfast. Until then I didn’t know I felt that way.
I was born in 1977, two days before St. Patrick’s Day. My mom and dad named me Patrick, after my father’s late brother Patrick. This uncle died when he was a young man, in a motorcycle accident (he was riding). My name remembers this Uncle Patrick of mine, and of my brother and sister.
My mom and my father’s mother had a bond. When my mother was young, the two women would speak to each other privately having a coffee or Coca-Cola together or the like.
Another time In grade school I was instructed to ask questions about the family line. I brought to my paternal grandmother the question of the origin of our name.
I never knew my paternal grandfather. He’d died before I was born. I suppose I assumed we are an Irish family.
My grandmother let me know that the surname she took when she married is Welsh, of all matters. At that age, I was not aware that Wales is a principality of Britain, or otherwise knew anything about it.
Many years later my brother took a strong interest in the Irish. He went backpacking there with one or two of his friends.
He later researched our family line, and he learned of many of our living relatives in Ireland. I am sure it is an Irish family, whether the surname is Welsh.
I work for my father as a cemetery groundskeeper. When we were at the cemetery yesterday, handling a funeral, for which we were responsible, to my surprise, as we wrapped up our clean-up, we saw a hailstorm!
The spring solstice ahead: it doesn’t feel like it. Last week my father reminded me of the old expression, “In like a lamb, out like a lion.” That’s what my father was predicting for the month of March here.
About Ireland, I know it is hard when times are tough, and I am empathetic of others experiencing suffering. If you are Irish or love the Irish, God bless you. It’s your chance this day, as it is every year, to be Irish.
I hope you’re having a great day. Naturally, you are welcome to “like” this post, to follow my blog and/or to comment. Thank you for having an interest.
“Tea parties” have been at the forefront of The Little Mermaid blog the last five months. These are blogging challenges that span the entirety of each month. These are free and encourage participants to blog on a specific theme along with the rest of those joining in.
This month The Little Mermaid has asked her participants for their thoughts on travel. Where have you traveled? the Little Mermaid asks. What’s the best part?
What’s the worst part? What tips might you offer up to someone grappling with wanderlust?
The furthest-reaching of my travel experience was done in my life in the nineteen nineties. I have traveled to the United States, to the United Kingdom, to France, and to Belgium. These are the countries where I have gone, done in my adolescence and later in my early twenties.
The best part was the excitement of going to locations completely new. For example, when I was going to the United States, passing through Detroit, seeing Walt Disney World in Orlando (and cheating a touch by going through Universal Studios, too). Spending a little time in Chicago, staying with family in Nashville, visiting a friend in Portland, Maine, lodging in a traveler’s stop in Memphis, visiting New Orleans, visiting New York, all this was great. I was seeing a little more of the world.
One of the happiest times in my life was my twenty-first birthday, an important birthday if you are an American, in Memphis, Tennessee.
I would say I was taking a “walkabout” on that birthday, and it made for several nice weeks. My father’s brother-in-law thought of the label for what I’d done. He mentioned it to me at the wedding of one of my cousins, at the reception. The gentleman, my godfather, mentioned to me what he said was spoke about by aboriginals in Australia, a country I’ve never seen.
Years earlier, spending days at Walt Disney World in 1991 was a fine time. The members of my particularly as my immediate family went aboard “Star Tours,” an interactive cinematic ride like being in a Star Wars spaceship.
It was very exciting as come 1987 I’d got to VCR-record a tenth-anniversary television presentation of Star Wars on Fox. At that age, ten, Star Wars was my favorite film.
The worst part of travel, I’d offer to say, is the end of the “moment” when the time for travel ends, as it generally does, and it becomes time to return to more ordinary things wherever you are spending your life. For me, I live life in the gritty small town of St. Catharines, in the Canadian province of Ontario.
What I know at my age, which is something like an unfulfilled forty, is that if you are in the midst of wanderlust, you should listen to the word itself and observe what is the best part of life in most circumstances–the people you meet and how they take to you. I know I have not had the luckiest of experiences in my travels. I felt unprepared for Nashville, my handsome friend in Portland eventually killed himself, I believe, despite his promise and ambition as a musician, the lodge in Memphis finally burned to the ground, where I’d left friends behind, my idea to hustle in New York led to me being escorted out of a nightclub where I had thought to pose as an NYC resident.
These weren’t great times, especially when I returned to St. Catharines from New York and my girlfriend was angry with me when I told her how it had gone.
When I saw London, England, though, in 1999, when Y2K was only months away, it was exciting, but even with my experiences in America under my belt, I felt quite the novice with only a little money in my pocket and quite clearly to locals a foreigner. My embarrassment deepened in Paris, the City of Lights, when I realized I was in my youth and seeing the Arc de Triomphe de l’Étoile. I knew it would never come again, and I’d been learning French since the third grade and could barely communicate in it–it was as if my aspirations were quickly coming to naught, and I was overwhelmed by the absurdity.
I didn’t spend much time in Belgium, but I liked it a little better than France, enjoying chocolate and also seeing grim war trenches from World War I when Belgium soldiers defended their nation from Germany.
Eventually, my younger sister married a Belgium gentleman. That was a nice occasion. Here is a photo I took at the wedding ceremony.
The photo of myself I am showing is of a time in 2003 in a hotel in St. Catharines. I was meeting up with the friend who had introduced me to MySpace (before it blew up to become entropy) and speaking, as intended, of American writer Charles Bukowski, the beauty of whose work she wanted to impress upon me.
She and her boyfriend were gracious visitors. It was, again, a “moment.”
I am grateful to The Little Mermaid for thinking of these tea party posts that are interesting for me and for other bloggers on WordPress to organize new blog posts. If you are a touch keen on this, feel free to “like,” to follow, and/or to comment. I wish you well if you travel yourself, and, what’s more, I wish you luck if you have a blog.
For a long time WordPress hosted The Daily Post, a prompt to help WordPress users get something published. The Oct 1, 2014 Daily Post, Verbal confirmation, can be explained by delineating what you’re saying, showing the precise position of (a fringe or limit). I do a little work for my father at a small cemetery, in our care. https://www.facebook.com/LouthUnited We have a ledger outlining in orderly fashion who rests where, in the cemetery. Maple Lawn Cemetery delineates other aspects of my life. I like to delineate. Social media delineates people, in the sense of them characterizing qualities they have. https://help.twitter.com/en/using-twitter/twitter-lists When I feel like going on Twitter, I typically take a half hour of time, and I glance over what people have been tweeting. The different declarations of this and that is lively, and remarkable. When someone tweets a great recommendation of an article, it is good fun. There is more in life that you can delineate. Compartmentalizing tasks on an ongoing basis is delineation. You can change from one objective to another, by delineating each objective. I don’t play cards, but another instance where you can delineate is a hand of Solitaire. If you play Solitaire, you know you delineate a deck of cards into piles. The challenge of the game, I imagine, is how chance itself rules the game.
“To be observed, a response must affect the environment — it must have an effect upon an observer or upon an instrument which in turn can affect an observer.”– Skinner, B. F. (1969). Contingencies of Reinforcement: A Theoretical Analysis Points of interest in a travel situation can be delineated. When somewhere new or far from home, you can explore a little, and many do, by delineating spots you can go. In January of 1991, my parents took me and my brother and sister to Florida, driving from here to Orlando. 1,952 km · Moderate traffic · 22 hr 34 min With only a little time and energy, you can enjoy the sights and sounds having delineated what is near to you. To many people, that is rewarding, and you will have stories to tell back home. I would like to feel that the verb to delineate characterizes me.
Both productivity and efficiency interest me. Every Monday morning I try to spend an hour on YouTube, watching videos, to motivate myself. Ironically, I don’t place a lot of importance on spending time in full force, or with efficacy, and that kind of thing. I just like to think about it! I like to delineate. Thought and action may well be the name of the game for delineation. That is why I choose, as my favorite verb, to delineate.