Jiggery Pokery

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Greetings once again, to one and all. Here are the images that my friend, Chris sent to me from his communications tablet, while staying in New York City. The pics, though small, pack a pleasing visual punch, quite reminiscent of Shorpy photos, I think. I enjoyed too his tales from the streets, and from the bars that he visited. He clearly had a great time; especially considering he was there to work.

Chris and I have been friends since 1969. We have played in the same bands, achieved Black Belts, camped in the wilds, and climbed mountains together. We have also helped each other to get through tricky times. So I am delighted to feature his photography. And I am also a little bit surprised, because once long ago, he declared that photography was a branch of ‘jiggery pokery’. “A Black Art” he opined, though to be fair, he wasn’t being in the least bit serious.

As for me, I have just endured my final visit to hospital for this year, and I need a few days more to recover from the aftermath of all that has just passed. But for now, I am grateful to be back with my friends on WP. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed Chris’s pics; and, thanks to the prayers and good wishes which I have received, I hope to be back again very soon.

 

Peace, and Namaste, from Amras.

 

In order to be sane and adjusted as a human being, 

an individual must realise that he cannot know all there is to know.

It is not enough to understand this limitation intellectually;

the understanding must be an orderly and conditioned process, ‘unconscious’ as well as ‘conscious’.

Such a conditioning is essential to the balanced pursuit of

knowledge of the nature of matter and life.

A.E. van Vogt.

 

 

Photography ©Christopher Hammond.

 

 

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Strictly Speaking

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Greetings to everyone, and with thanks to all our blogger friends, new and old, here are some more photographs from a corner of old England for you to enjoy. These pics, like last month, were taken in Devon. The crystals and bloom in the stream were Amanda’s contribution.

Last month I told you that one of the people helping to push my wheelchair in Devon was my brother, Philip. This was not, strictly speaking, the case. In fact he was just holding on to one handle to help steady his feet while Luke did the pushing, very slowly.  Philip suffered severe brain damage during a minor hospital operation in childhood, and as a result of this he can neither talk, feed and dress himself, or use the toilet. In fact he is totally dependant in every sense for all of his needs. Despite all that, he was kept, loved, and cared for by the family. He has become a wonderful character in his own right, and has the merriest laugh for miles.

Sadly, those responsible for his suffering refused to own it, and my father failed to find a solicitor willing to seek justice from the  mighty medical profession. It was 1955 after all.

Our parents harboured no anger that I was aware of, they were resigned to the facts. My mother, in fact, was a nurse in the NHS for many years before moving into pharmacy a couple of decades before retiring. Their choice to keep and care for Philip, however, brought many blessings, along with monumental challenges, plus undue social pressure, from time to time, to have him institutionalised.

Every day, in my profession, I met parents of children who suffer like Philip, and I was always deeply touched by their faith and fortitude. Since our parents passed a few years ago, I have never doubted, not even for one tiny instant, that they have been greatly blessed for lives so unselfishly lived.

The good do good and get better. The wicked do bad and get worse. One day, our accumulated choices will sweep us to a personal destiny, where fair acknowledgements are guaranteed.

Most folk might feel, quite understandably, that this is a story of misfortune. For me, however, Philip has been a very valuable teacher. His love and courage opened my eyes at a very young age, and it is miraculous that he has lived such a long and active life, contrasting his predicament. Therefore, despite outer appearances, I consider myself most blessed.

Since our parents graduated, Philip has gone to live, minutes away from us, with friends in the countryside, and is very happy indeed. He visits regularly, with his ever laughing eyes and mischievous smile.

I don’t know who wrote the following words, but the writer, indeed, was quite right.

Why are there so many handicapped souls on the planet today?
When an individual perceives another as handicapped, it would be helpful to perceive that same person as an evolved soul. Disabled individuals are “able” in ways that a normal person is not. They see beyond illusion and know what is true and what is false. These souls anchor the energy of unconditional love in a conditional world. 

With all that said, may the world revolve in peace, until next time, Namaste from Amras.

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