Posts Tagged ‘glory’

Where man has, alas, ceased to pass the torch,-

For his arched steps have cut the meadows

And play before the motley fools and lure

Widows of their mite to feed an appetite;

Where love itself is sold by giddy glibness

Of mountebanks and is nothing but a habit;

Douse the torch its cold glare is sad tale-

Ne’er shall you rekindle it ,nor lead children of men

To hallowed halls where once virtue stood:

Proud of mien erect on her pedestal

Garlanded and bewitched by men of old,-

It is how the world shall pass

In oblivion and for worms a cold meal.



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Don’t be fooled to believe news media as true account of history. History is something else. Democracy after fall of Moammar was big news. Arab Spring gave way to something else and the situation in Libya is neither here nor there. Similarly in Egypt  those who wanted a decent life free from want and repression threw Mubarak regime. What did it bring but worse situation than before that the army had to step in. This cannot be history?

History is what people make despite what big money or grandiose Ideas throw about. Arab Spring and Friends of Syria trying to get their control over the Middle East have only created more mess. History is what people make from their needs and dream.

During the Crusades were ‘Jihadists’ or assassins organized by Old Man of the Mountains ( a classmate of Omar Khayyam). But Mongol invasion was a flood that cleared all. Where are they? We people are still here.

History can be compared to a mighty river of perennial supply into which the Crusades, Moslem empires, Mongol invasion,Black death are so many names or stones dropped. No sign of them. What of those great movers or shakers king of kings who carved their name in blood? They are all names written in water.

Water drops circulate between land and the air and keep the river running. History is movement of people and has nothing to do with ideas.

We need not be unduly concerned nor be impatient to change order of things either by violence or by thoughts of glory. Do not be concerned of violence that grips parts of the world. It isn’t history in itself but motion of peoples exerting to find their level.

It is foolhardy to think one can either by good intentions or force make history stop for him. Violence will be met with violence and peace shall keep peace neither realizing what other was all about.

We people shall make our homes as best and those who are cast out of their homes shall yet find their home. History clears way for us.


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At the height of Rome one indefatigable traveler during his many travels saw an Inuit.  The native heard of the glory of Rome and at the end of palaver he asked the visitor: ‘Do the Romans get to see ice as I see about me?’

The wayfarer said it was a luxury only Caesar and a few senators could afford. The Inuit sadly shook his head and said,’Save me and my folks from the glory that you speak of.’


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Nine muses are we here and shall we
Follow the god’s errands too closely
Or dismiss man’s unceasing toil
As raking the muck, not worth our while?
We hold golden hours and our graces
Though pared to days, hours, minutes
Is whole and complete in itself:
Numberless combs add drops from hive
Honey fit for the gods and yet for the bee’s fame,
Never was it intended but for itself.
Poetry of the earth, Oh music, man pieces together
As history, make-believe world of theatre
Everything, are our invention pure and simple
But all these he makes his own from example,
Nature, the wise Counsel has it decreed.
We see ourselves in his mirror as altered
That keeps our immortal fame sure.
His whole existence from words, phrases-
We muses in turn with fame adorn;
And we are this moment on the wings
Awaiting Priam’s son who has had
The messenger god and how shall he attend
What gods themselves have failed?

This whole business of presenting the golden apple
Is feigned as this shepherd’s crook, a royal son
Who must strike a pose a humble rustic before all.

(The Three Graces reveal themselves and in one voice:)

This apple is pure gold: we note with delight
The mighty Zeus has found your youth apt
To choose one of us than we over it fight.

If Supreme God has youth as his Councillor
This world would wear green in and out of season
And old age over fate, or their lot complain never.

Come youth, your rustic form and speech please me;
I who overlord the hearth deign for the price of the apple
The nod from gods as equal for your sagacity.

Athene Pallas:
I am wisdom complete and from Zeus sprang full blown
To raise you for the price of this golden orb
Above every artifice of war that man may call his own.

Need I speak more than show this ear lobe
That under touch gives more than any worldly pleasure
you may possess or recall, accord me this fruity orb.

Of the Three Graces I am sure to win undying disfavor
From two, of which one is enough to damn me.
Hera, O Keeper of the hearth, Power like the fire
Left to itself shall end in ashes,- and mightly
You must keep at it and for what? Such Might you favor
Shall prove the soot and grime beneath man’s dignity.
What Glory makes one master o’er another or speak of service?
I know the lie of mortal existence where the lord
Is caught in the gin with his varlet, his fame is his vice
Become with death: each pay Charon the same, by accord;
So I shall leave Mastery to the lesser mortals and choose
Love that conjures up an antidote to our servile existence,
Laughing at Death and Pleasure over glory or Power
I a Man must hold the power of love that flows out o’ itself ever.

What followed is Judgment of Paris
In that a kingdom lost not for loveliness
Of Helen or of wanton lust of the blood
That made the Priam’s son lose his head.
Judgment of Paris was the way forward
When three Graces tempted the son
And lo dispossessed by a vision-
Cassandra spoke too well, and Love
Was not his downfall but men who strove
For glory and Power were too violent.

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Once upon a time Chicken Little was walking along the village lane and saw a gaggle of geese going in a file. He crossed the lane in order to see them better. One goose stepped smartly and stepped on his little toe and it hurt. He flapped his tiny wings and was all astir. ‘This must be war!’ Chicken Little was certain. He ran to tell his Mama. But Mother Hen said geese were not on warpath. Chicken Little didn’t like to be proved wrong. So he asked, ‘How can you be sure of what I have seen, Mama?’ Mother Hen knew that she had to come up with a better answer to silence him. ‘It is common knowledge, Chicken Little,’ Mother Hen giving him an indulgent look said, ‘Had you laid as many eggs as I have, you will know you have been shooting your mouth.’ Chicken Little stood his ground and said, ‘But I felt its brutal thrust, yes I did.’ Chicken Little still staring at the scratch said,’ The goose-stepping marauders are on the war path.’ Mother Hen shooed him to attend to his supper and sleep off. Chicken Little did as he was told.
Later in the evening when the rooster came home Mother Hen lost no time in telling the news. ‘Order for mobilization has gone out. Geese have been given their marching orders.’
The Rooster said, ‘Is my comb all in order, Dearie?’
‘You are not getting mixed up in any of this?’
‘Sure I am,’ The Rooster crowed, ‘A war comes and I cannot let it go by.’
The rooster already saw himself as a Field Marshall. Mother Hen cackled in frustration. But Mr. Cock-a-lock said firmly, ‘I do not ask why I was given such colors when I cut a figure in a fight.’ Without so much as a good bye he preened himself and made a right about turn to face his imaginary enemies. Mother Hen ran a little behind him telling, ‘Go There shall be drumbeats and trumpets blaring as you march off. But when you return there shall be none.’
The rooster stopped dead in his tracks and looking at Mother Hen he said, ‘Lay your eggs if that cheer you up but leave the war to me.’ Without waiting to hear reason the Rooster merely marched on promising not to come back without covering himself in glory. On the way he met Porky who just had wallowed in mud and was feeling frisky. Porky saw Rooster and hollered, ‘What is the tearing hurry, Mr. Cock-a-lock? The Rooster mentioned a war had been declared. ‘How do you know that?’ Porky was not taking things at their face value. He countered it by asking, ‘ Tell me in a way I can understand: why would geese march in formation, goose-stepping across the country if not for war?’
Porky took time to digest this and the Rooster made a turn as though he had his baton already, ‘It is time to cover myself in glory.’ Porky didn’t buy this talk about glory. He grunted to admit,’ I covered myself in mud and let me tell you, and I feel great.’ The Rooster went off all spruced up. On the way he saw a Turkey who said war never appealed to him. The Rooster suggested he could prove his mettle. ‘Only war can take us to the top.’
The Rooster was sure war always ended in great rejoicing. ‘Don’t you wish when the President reads out recipients for Medal for Valor and you are among them?’
Mr. Turkey excused his lack of enthusiasm and said, ‘A war always ends badly for us. There will be thanksgiving and invariably we end on the occasion stuffed with sage. ’
The rooster thought the trouble with the world was they had no stomach for war. ‘There is a war and Mr. Turkey is already reaching wrong conclusions.’ He was certain he would not like to spend company with such fearful fowls.
On the way the rooster saw a fox and asked where the recruiting office was. The Red Fox saw the plump cockerel and said, ‘What a magnificent get up!’ Mr. Cock-a lock felt pleased. He returned the compliment, ‘You look no bad yourself‘
Yes Mr. Fox had his whiskers neatly drawn to a point and his thick tail fluttered, ‘’But are you dressed for the occasion?’
‘I hope I am,’ the rooster said somewhat shaken by the commanding presence of the fox.
‘Mr. Fox,’ the rooster stuttered,’ I ho-ho-hope you don’t think I will shy away when war has been declared?’
‘No, no’ the fox was certain, ‘ but you could do with more medals.’
The rooster crowed, ‘Cock-a doodle doo! That is why I am here to enlist.’
The rooster reminded again the fox where he was to enlist. The fox led him to his den where he asked the rooster to be bound over. ‘Why?’
‘Discipline, discipline. Think of it when your comrade’s life is in your hand. If you don’t have it you put your comrade’s life in danger. Think where this lack of discipline will lead to?’
Mr. Fox was very convincing and the cockerel was sure that the nation’s life was safe in his hands. Thus the cock let himself tied and taken to deeper recesses where he saw heaps of bones chewed clean. Shrugging at the mess the fox observed they were recruits who had no stomach for discipline.
Brightening up Mr. Fox looked at the trussed up cock and said, ‘Have no fear. But I have discipline that is far greater than all they had.’
(reprinted from Elves Bells of Nov.9-’10)

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Soul as I mentioned in the earlier posts has its own language; so has our rational mind. Soul of man is a finite representation of something otherworldly. Thus we have two components :body and soul. Both work often at contrary purposes.
Let us take the life of Patriarch Abraham. He was seventy five when the Lord God promised him a nation (Gen 12:2). In the land of Sichem, a Canaanite land God appeared to him in a vision. ‘Unto thy seed will I give this land.’ It is Soul that sets up visions that to a believing heart shall have a great impact. Moses sees the burning bush and what does he do? He removes his sandals in obedience to the vision of God.  Similarly the day of Pentecost prompts Ananias and Sapphira. Soul’s prompting must have been sufficiently strong for them to sell their possession as so many others. But did they follow it through?
Others brought the proceeds from the sale to the common fund. Cold logic however prompted Ananias and his wife to reconsider. ‘If they gave away all their wealth on what shall they live on? (Ac 4:32, 5:1-3) Here we see how differently soul and body exert their pull on man?
Coming back to Patriarch Abraham could not in his worldly wisdom believe Sarai could bear children. He chose to go into Hagar and she bore Ishmael as a result of the union. Since then Ishmael’s seed posed an ever present threat,- and still is, to the children of Israel. We see how sometimes our intellect can trip us up.
Spirit is what settles a man to walk the line after he had believed the Soul’s prompting. Spirit is part of the equation where each and everyone who takes the name of the Lord may live a fruitful life. (2 Pe.1:3-8)
St. Peter begins the second epistle with the idea of divine power, which is a two- fold impact of soul and spirit on a body that is imperfect. We wear our corruptible bodies and yet we are slowly undergoing a certain process that can only be called divine. Since God has begun this change in us we may say godliness begins even in our very imperfections. Only that we are subject to a higher authority while we go through the motions of living on this side of paradise.
Tailpiece: For a Christian the scriptures is the work of Holy Spirit (2 Pe 1:21) Even so how a Christian can be settled in a life of godliness is a slow process. Spirit has much to do since it is a spirit of belief, of knowledge and so on.

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Is there a moral writ governing events and men? Readily there comes to my mind the fate of Belshazzar. The writing on the wall judged the Babylonian king.
I can also cite the case of Napoleon Bonaparte.

Napoleon Bonaparte who assumed the title of the emperor of France showed by a series of victories he was worthy to be included among the immortals such as Alexander and Julius Caesar. His brilliant victories created such a condition he could not have sat idle with such a powerful army battle hardened and disciplined under his command. Thus he was caught in the crest of a wave that took him to his Russian campaign. Disaster was the result. What went wrong?
Do you not see his overweening ambition was a trap? Moral sense works to show what a sorry figure a man cuts when he chooses to disobey the Moral Writ of the Spirit Realm.

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