Secrets

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We can all learn from the writer E.B. White, who, in response to a 1956 letter asking him to join a committee, responded with two short sentences. The first: a thank-you for the invitation. The second: “I must decline, for secret reasons.”

Stan gets away from the Police

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Stan was very worried that the police had caught him.He didn’t realize that ,with the low  sun, the mirror in his pocket was flashing out coded messages to aircraft.He got out of the car and walked over to the police on the grassy verge of the road
I’m so sorry,it’s just my wife’s solid gold powder compact.See?
Have you got your marriage certificate with you?
Well,no.I didn’t know we in the UK needed to show them to the police. demurred Stan
It may belong to your wife but you are a man.Men don’t carry them.We never saw one before.Young women never use then,
Certain men might of course..actors or politicians.I know Tony Blair wore make up.
That’s irrelevant.Give me that compact.
Stan pulled the golden compact out of his pocket,still open.
The police man stared into the mirror.His face turned pale.He handed the compact to Stan and ran back to his car asking the driver to take him to the nearest boiling Tea Shop.
Stan looked at Satan and grinned…
What did you do?
I just held up a photo I have of him in bed with a sheep….need I say more?
Did you enjoy seeing that? Stan asked thoughtlessly.
Not much.~I prefer your flame haired mistress with her perfume of Araby.She’s something else again.
So you can smell then? Stan enquired.
Oh,yes,said the devil.Sure I can.I just can’t touch or be touched.
So Stan started the car and off they went;all the lights were green and not a single police car was on duty.
Soon they reached Upper Sheringham.The people here are very long lived.I know it’s the best place to live in the UK;then they turned down the old High Street and parked by a gambolling shop full of lambs.
Now what?
Will the sea cheer up a sad old devil or make him suicidal?The cliffs are not very high.We must await the next  piece of the story with interest and patience.
Email me with ideas at
merrymaryminds@h

Our lungs are all buddies

Fritillaria sewerzowii Green_15-2 [1024x768]

Photo by Mike Flemming 2015 copyright.Published with permission

She wanted to come up with a mnemonic
For remembering the form of a sonnet
She cried AB twice CD
CD,EF twice ‘fore G.
For GH is the last couplet,innit? .

She wanted to write for the dummies
Whose speech veers from f*ck to cor l*mmy.
Vernacular they call it
to which we cry,no sh*t,twit
My eyes, like my cup, are now r*nny.

Mirth seems to rise from my studies.
As the breath rises up from our bodies.
Our breath mingles each day
From your way to my airway.
Our lungs, if not minds, are all buddies

Fore given

Carrie’s manic
Pure gold walls
Den of Catastrophe
Spirit of well
Night layers
Bliss in
Golden rod
Still, small, wise
Eye of storm
Hurry,Cain
Ah, bell.
Original din
Apples cry
Snake in bladder
Prodigal sun
Stormy heather
Bless us ,oh Bard
Fore given, fore warned

Where sparrows hide

Golden again,
The sky pleases
Its unity  comforts
Our bits and pieces

Gathers us up
A rich mother
Accepting hate
Whatever

Green attracts
To the holly tree
Where sparrows hide
To look and see

Berries lost
To feed the birds
Shining points
The leaves preserved

Guardian headline

Understand Why Your Toddler Cries

Israeli air and ground forces hit targets in Gaza Strip as death toll climbs

Don’t you think this is a strange sentence?To me it reads as “because the death toll is rising more Israeli Israeli forces are hittihg their targets”

Should it not read

My version

Death toll in Gaza strip rises because more Israeli forces hit their targets

If they knew there were so many hidden tunnels into Israel, why have they left them alone till now?
Ditto with important people
Can this tragedy for all people in Israel/Palestine ever end ?

Jesus Wept | Bella Vista Community Church

Stages

First we grieve for those that we have lost
whom we have loved and borne the heavy cost
The loss of that first anguish leaves us lone
We feel vast emptiness, and hearts like stone

Acute grief is like a jagged knife
Yet does not kill, leaves us still alive
The torment is too harsh we long for peace
Yet when it comes,it brings us no release

There is no way the dead can come back home
The widow wanders, hides, or wildly roams
Until the heart itself can take no more
And wonders what this little life is for

Desiring yet to live we take a step
Into the unknown land ,from out death’s trap
And memories of love shall gently fade
Until we fear no more the loss of faith


Yet we are cut off by frightened friends
A face can show us warmth, and not heart rend

What is disrationalia?

Fifty more maths classes banned from TV

https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/rational-and-irrational-thought-the-thinking-that-iq-tests-miss/

Rational and Irrational Thought: The Thinking That IQ Tests Miss

Why smart people sometimes do dumb things

Credit: ISTOCKPHOTO

IN BRIEF

Who are You Calling “Smart”?

  • Traditional IQ tests miss some of the most important aspects of real-world decision making. It is possible to test high in IQ yet to suffer from the logical-thought defect known as dysrationalia.
  • One cause of dysrationalia is that people tend to be cognitive misers, meaning that they take the easy way out when trying to solve problems, often leading to solutions that are wrong.
  • Another cause of dysrationalia is the mindware gap, which occurs when people lack the specific knowledge, rules and strategies needed to think rationally.
  • Tests do exist that can measure dysrationalia, and they should be given more often to pick up the deficiencies that IQ tests miss.

No doubt you know several folks with perfectly respectable IQs who repeatedly make poor decisions. The behavior of such people tells us that we are missing something important by treating intelligence as if it encompassed all cognitive abilities. I coined the term “dysrationalia” (analogous to “dyslexia”), meaning the inability to think and behave rationally despite having adequate intelligence, to draw attention to a large domain of cognitive life that intelligence tests fail to assess. Although most people recognize that IQ tests do not measure every important mental faculty, we behave as if they do. We have an implicit assumption that intelligence and rationality go together—or else why would we be so surprised when smart people do foolish things?

It is useful to get a handle on dysrationalia and its causes because we are beset by problems that require increasingly more accurate, rational responses. In the 21st century, shallow processing can lead physicians to choose less effective medical treatments, can cause people to fail to adequately assess risks in their environment, can lead to the misuse of information in legal proceedings, and can make parents resist vaccinating their children. Millions of dollars are spent on unneeded projects by government and private industry when decision makers are dysrationalic, billions are wasted on quack remedies, unnecessary surgery is performed and costly financial misjudgments are made.

IQ tests do not measure dysrationalia. But as I show in my 2010 book, What Intelligence Tests Miss: The Psychology of Rational Thought, there are ways to measure dysrationalia and ways to correct it. Decades of research in cognitive psychology have suggested two causes of dysrationalia. One is a processing problem, the other a content problem. Much is known about both of them.

Another mind

From time and place and season I am lost,
Disorientated ,missing tracks well worn
.Do not suppose I’m unaware of cost,
Nor label me with epithets of scorn.

For usual paths lead to the usual place.
the safest way to live and perhaps to die,
But wandering through the woods I find new space
and in wild grasses with the fox I lie

.Through distant trees, I see a way to go
As narrow as a slit in pale limestone
.I pass in silence as if in deep,deep snow
.My courage rises even as I groan.

Remember when we’re lost ,we may then find
Another way,a place,another mind.

Satan at the Wash

Satan  had been,  for  an hour or two ,inside a solid gold powder compact which  a delightful old lady called Dora had been given by her husband Alf.Alas when Dora saw Satan in her mirror she was not amused.Luckily for Satan the  mirror broke and he was able to escape into the North Sea.
Since Stan and Emile were going home he decided to swim to the Wash and see if he could catch up with them.He is well up in geography unlike the author
Being in the sea was very different from being in the Fires of Hell.Both have their downsides.Still we all have to conpromise  now and then.But why did God let Satan get out of the mirror?
Alf and Dora stuffed with hot tea and  buttery muffins were paddling back to the car park in Cromer where their silver car was waiting
Why is there so much water on the road,Dora asked her amiable husband.
It’s not  been raining, has it?
Well. I saw some canoes sailing down the promenade.What has happened?
Cromer is a very strange place at the extreme  east end of the Norfolk coast.One moment you are facing North, the next East.This is where houses fall into the sea.Officially it is subsidence but the truth is, it’s the place where demons come onto the Earth and cause devastation with their fiery clothes and weapons.
And here they come, looking for Satan, their master whom God has taken away from his hot home with no running water.
As Dora got out of the car, she saw her shoes were full of water.Why even the car was flooded despite  being in a high level car park
Don’t buy anything from a stranger on the beach again, she begged Alf.
We don’t know what we are unleashing.I wish we had gone on the cliffs to Weybourne rather than that old pier
Well,I had no idea such a delightful old man  might be in league with the Devil.Though when we see what is happening in  the  world it seems evil is much more sophisticated than  it was when  Fire and Brimstone were the punishment for murdering your wife with wilful intent.Maybe Satan  was not so evil, just too proud to apologise.
The Mayor of Cromer was on the pier looking at the cracks in the concrete,
Has a bomb gone off, she cried?
Well, not exactly……  there’s a funny story about that Satan has been calling on us and someone tried to drown him,
Who could drown Satan? He is not human.He has no lungs.
My goodness, how intelligent the people of Cromer seem to be.Maybe we should  get them to run the whole country!
Stan and Emile were standing by the Ouse Crossing watching the  swans and sea birds when suddenly Satan  emerged from the swollen water
How did you  get here,Stan enquired tactlessly?  I thought we had seen the last of you.
Satan  looked very upset.
Help me, let me get into the mirror.My servants are looking for me but I don’t want to go with them.I am fed  up with Hell and sin and evil
Emile had a bright idea,
Look there are mirrors on the car.
Stan was not eager to let Satan  hide there but the wicked creature leapt in and cried with relief after taking a nice white hanky out of his hat
I  never thought Satan would weep,Stan murmured unkindly.
God has almost gone and  the order of the  Western world is collapsing.Everything is upside down.
Emile ran into the car and nuzzled against Stan’s old tweed jacket.
I’m frightened,dad, he muttered sheepishly.
So am I said Stan as he looked into the mirror before backing out and hitting an invisible stone wall which had not been there moments ago.
Now,Satan, step to one side  or we will never get home to Knittingham if the mirror is not freed
Satan obeyed,He has fallen in love with Stan and Emile.He wants to live in this quiet city forever.But what will Mary say if Stan tells her Satan is  on her dressing table in the mirror?
Will Stan be sent to see a psychiatrist? Will he be diagnosed with paranoid dementia  and double pneumonia of the mind?
Or will he manage to get Mary to see things his way? Will she see Satan when Stan is out?
We will wait and see

Satan and Cromer Pier

KatherineThinkings and poems  September 26, 2018 4 Minutes

3945891405

http://www.edp24.co.uk/news/photo_gallery_people_rescued_from_cromer_pier_as_spectacular_waves_smash_into_seafront_1_3081997

Alfred and Dora Smith, who had just taken possession of a solid gold powder compact,  bought from  dear old Stan  ,went down to Cromer so  Dora could shop  in Boots, She wanted a new and more suitable shade of pressed powder to put into the compact.
Satan was getting cheesed off as Dora had the compact shut away in her handbag of purple and red leather with a yellow strap.Since she otherwise dressed entirely in black the vivid colours did not seem quite so dreadful.
You may disagree, but I believe a coloured leather handbag is a definite must for any woman nowadays.Where else can one hid one’s log tables,kindle reader,tampons, set squares,kleenex,rulers,pens,LSD.morphine and Chanel Nr 5?

Satan ,not being divine.did not know where Alf and Dora were off to but he was hoping that he might get a peep somewhere.Maybe in the ladies loo in some pub or other,hopefully one full of women of an intriguing type with French underwear worn as outerwear in the late style of Madonna.
Inside Boots,Dora found the Boots Number 7 beauty counter and selected some compressed powder in  a color called vanilla rose beige.Since everything was 3 for 2 she bought some lavender mascara and some pink coral moisturised lipstick.After paying the bill,she and Alf ran outside..
My,it’s as hot as hell in there, Dora cried.Satan was pleased to hear that but he had no idea where they were but felt he was near home.
Alf suggested a walk down the pier to get some fresh air.

Facing directly North, Cromer pier is wide open to the pure winds from Siberia… but today a SW wind was blowing and despite a black cloud looming the day was bright and warm for winter in England
As the game, old but vital couple reached the end of the pier and turned to look at the North Norfolk coast line they regretted not wearing their Harris tweed coats.. a strange chill came over England that afternoon…. a hint of evil darkened the air with menace.David Cameron or the PM must have been up there in Burnham Market where the rich have holiday homes.
Shall we sit down for a minute, said Alf to his stunningly made up wife.
You sit down,I am going to look at the sea.Dora said sweetly
Dora stood at the edge of the pier looking,at the waves crashing below… and above too!She wondered how her new short hair style was standing up to the weather and on an impulse she opened her bag and took out the gold compact so she could use the mirror to check.
Holding it n her left hand she flicked it open expertly at an angle of precisely 60 degrees.
Who was more surprised…Satan,who rarely saw faithfully married,virtuous British women, or Dora who had never before seen a demons,let alone Satan,I leave to your imagination.
Dora gave a loud shriek and threw the compact overarm high above and over the metal railings.Being solid gold it sank gently to the sea bed amongst the pearls and coral and a few suicidal fishermen’s remains.
Alf,Alf,she called..raucuously
What is it, my pet?
There was some fiend in that mirror.What a sight! I am afraid I have accidentally bowled it overarm it into the sea.Like you showed me  to when playing cricket
You stupid twit.I paid £500 for that.I broke the bank
Did you really?You are so sweet.I wonder if we should call 999? Dora called
I doubt if they could dive into the cold sea…for a powder compact.Alf replied
How about for the poor devil inside it? she continued.
Suddenly a heavy storm,one might say a hurricane blew up and the game couple were almost washed away by rain and giant waves which ran into the air on either side of the pier.Clinging to each other they stumbled towards the promenade some distance back.
Let’s go and have some tea and muffins,suggested Alf  thoughtfully.
Suddenly the sea swept onto the promenade and for a moment it seemed as if the two old folk would be washed away but luckily they were both very obese and their weight anchored them to the ground.
Well,it’s not quite what we expected,but somehow I am relieved.Dora said
I was nervous about owning such a luxury item.I feel I am addicted to Max Factor Pancake makeup in plastic compacts she prattled merrily
Alf was dozing and in his mind he saw a host of pancakes with little faces each wearing full makeup
How can I eat these,he muttered.They seem like human beings… they look quite charming.His head fell back and he began to snore.
Dora was happy enough watching canoes go by carrying people along the promenade and into the old town.What a dear place Cromer is,she thought,as the lifeboat passed the cafe window full of terrified people..What a dear old place to live in

Float through the mind like flowers

On summer days the cliff at Weybourne sang
Of finest grass entwined with tiny flowers
The butterflies were floating on the wind

We walked along contented, hand in hand
In Sheringham we saw no faces dour
On summer days the cliffs at Weybourne sang

We met no wasps nor anything that stings
The footpath was kept clear, no weeds to sour
The butterflies were resting on the wind

I looked at bluebells,insects hear their ring
So we passed with pleasure our free hours
On summer days, the cliffs at Weybourne sang

Was it for this perfection Adam sinned?
No human joy is with us very long
The butterflies were resting on the wind

On summer days the cliff at Weybourne sang
Of grass so fine and of its tiny flowers
The butterflies were floating on the wind

In winter the North wind will make beasts cower
No need for ventilation,faces glower
On summer days the cliff at Weybourne sang
The butterflies float through my mind, bright, wing





Water

Photo by Kamil Rybarski on Pexels.com

Water has  no boundary,  it flows
until it reaches  obstacles  like rocks
Water runs as far as it can go

Water is  as  patient as deep snow
it has no strength yet if  it’s deep it blocks
Water has  no boundary,  it flows

Rivers from the mountain tops  run low
searching for the sea but not  its sharks
Water runs as far as it can go

Water runs, it steams,, it freezes so
  Our blood may turn to ice,oh fearful heart
Water has  no boundary  it flows


Water,fluid, we need it,our foe
With no respect, it floods the lowest parts
Water runs as far as fluids can go

Scientists can measure,watch and chart
While as the sun shines, lakes stretch out their charms
Water has  no boundary,  it flows
Water runs as fast as it can go

Stan and Satan on the coast road

After nearly being arrested for accidentally sending out messages with the car mirror. Stan got back into the car and drove around King’s Lynn and up past Sandringham.
I’ve been there,said Satan eagerly
Don’t tell me, Stan  begged.Let me keep a few illusions.Or delusions
Satan fell quiet as they  stopped in Hunstanton to see the striped cliffs before tottering along the coast towards Sheringham.
I’d like to go to  Brancaster Beach again,Stan thought, that really is  a beach.In fact he and Mary had once been trapped by the tide.North Norfolk is a dangerous place even without  Satan travelling through
Holkham Hall and beach were a  beloved place.Maybe Satan would like to go in a boat on the lake and visit the shop where paintings are on sale
Wells next the Sea was the old man’s  love.The narrow street where Mary bought a wicker bike basket.The bread shop and the butcher and the big green on the top with lovely houses round it in  a square [ squaring the circle!]
Many happy memories and the rich smell of gorse in the hot sun
When I get home,I shall see if gorse will grow in Knittingham he told Emile.Maybe the soil is wrong though
He took out his Vodafone Smart 7  or 8 and rang an old friend  in Sheringham
Is the cottage free,Fred, he asked?
Yeah, how many people?
Er, it’s just me and the cat . this time,Stan muttered idiotically.Well Satan was in the powder compact so he didn’t need a bed!
OK.I’ll leave the key at the chip shop then.See you soon.Stan.I’m just finishing my book on the Gnostic Imagination.I’ve  learned a great deal  but I’ll happy to finish it.Maybe we could meet for a drink one night
And do you know… they did!

Photo by Marlon Schmeiski on Pexels.com

The Holy Land

The Holy Land is not so holy now
Was it so when Christ hung from the Cross
When Romans burned the temple ,killed the Jews?
The Holy Land is not so holy now
The truth depends on where we stand to view
New perspectives offer wisdom too
See the holy face now white with frost
The Holy Land is not so holy now
Even as Christ sags on Roman Cross

g

from the Cross


The lark

Freed from her trap
Bird soared into air and hovered,
And floated, resting;
And flew higher, singing as she flew,
And higher again,
Till there was only her song,
Left in the silence,
Trembling.

Up on the high, wide, stump topped hill,
I felt the lark inside my heart
And heard her singing.
And flying up with her,
I saw gold sun and silver moon,
Moors of heather and sheep grazing.
Green hills,
And shimmering lakes,
Clouds, sun and sky in watery mirrors.
And sang, and dipped and dropped,
And curled
Up the blue
Bright heaven, and rested
On the wind.
All that day
I was a lark singing.

I shall always have a vision of
A bird
That flew upwards,
Rejoicing and free
Into a deep blue sky, and high
And higher
Beyond high
Into a place, beyond eye even,
But music still sending.

I wish I were back on that heathery moor,
With the nibbling sheep and the bees sweetly humming,
Hearing again
The poignant song
Of the skylark;
A prisoner, freed ,
From her trap,
So happy to be free
So wonderful to see,
Just let it all be

Should we shout at our partners?

At one time ,after I had had an operation on my eye which took a year to recover from
I took up knitting.I’m not quick at it.I was making a shawl which had the increase in stitches in the centre as above.This made the two halves drape differently
At the heggining there are only 3 stitches.Then there are 5,7,9”’……………….111.113…………
Sometimes I found it hard to know where the middle was.I had to count all these stitches on their circular needle.As you can imagine this took concentration.One evening I was doing this and my husband asked me a question when I got to 99
I answered than began again.This went on until I had tried 4 times.
So I politely informed him that he should look at me.If I was knitting he could speak
But if I was counting he should wait
The shawl was lovely and I gave it to a Czech student who visited us

Later I was telling a friend about this & she said I should have shouted at my husband
and said I was very angry with him
Now I don’t know, but as we didn’t go in for shouting he would have been shocked.When he got diabetes he sometimes got angry… it was low blood sugar.
I solved that.

I suppose there is no right answer but if I get angry I get distressed myself.When dealing with older people or people with health problems it’s usually better to keep calm

That was tough when he thought I was his mother before he died owing to a UTI
He seemed so happy I was his mother for 3 days and then I was his wife again
He surely did love his mother!But he loved me too.

https://allpoetry.com/Heaven–Haven:-A-Nun-Takes-The-Veil

Heaven-Haven: A Nun Takes the Veil

        I have desired to go
            Where springs not fail,
To fields where flies no sharp and sided hail
        And a few lilies blow.

        And I have asked to be
            Where no storms come,
Where the green swell is in the havens dumb,
        And out of the swing of the se

The mystery of love and what we sing

The proper conscience does not wound our hearts
But tells us truly when we have done wrong
It does not injure love before love starts

Its voice is still and small, it is not sharp
Sometimes it impresses us by song
The goodly conscience does not wound our hearts

Yet conscience is no angel with an harp
Unheard when minds are crowded, with thought thronged
It does not tear up love before life starts

It does not use great force, no threats shall rape
But talks to each in their own native tongue
The moral conscience does not wound our hearts

But what of evil men,Satanic sharks,
The mysteries of genocide and bombs?
Do they tear up love’s roots from their hearts?


Even good folk suffer like the lambs
We must enter darkness with blind hands
The proper conscience does not wound our hearts
It does not curse our love before life starts

The penniless leader

We once had a leader called Johnson
Who wanted to get hold of his pension
As he had used all our money
To beguile Mistress Sunny
Alas, it gained media attention

Then he wanted to pay for a nanny
A child came from the womb of sweet Sunny
He asked Tories to give
Him money to live
Is there no end, is this funny?

He claims to need £300,000
As a salary, please do not question
He buys handmade shoes
Who can refuse
This blonde beaming bounny’s directions?

Is there some malice aforethought
Some intelligence agents new-bought?
He can speak in Latin
And tell us who’s batting
But he’s rarely been seen here in Scunthorpe

Why not take early retirement
Then be a real full time parent
Little Wilf will adore him
Except when he’s snoring
Or trying to recollect all his gerunds

Will he be described as a tyrant
Or the man who put Nero’s fire out?
Or a witless buffoon
Without any tune
Oh, people do shout at his iPants

Paternity Suite

Photo by nappy on Pexels.com

Now it is alleged that Boris Johnson has asked a Conservative donor to pay the childcare cost of his baby Wilfred.
Along with the redecoration of the flat,it seems there’s no end to his greed.
Or maybe Carrie asked him to share the childcare with her?
He has no record of looking after babies despite having about six with his wife and others
Perhaps he could take a year out on paternity leave.By then he could be old enough to retire
Then we’d have more horror.Who can take over?
Don’t answer

Until the summer came

By Katherine

I wanted you to live until the summer came
The warmth the sun, the flowering of the shrubs
I wanted you here near me in our home
I wanted you to live until the summer came
You loved to be outside in summer rain
May was very dull and wet at home
I loved you then, I love you now, I love
I wanted you to live until the summer came
The warmth, the sun, the flowering of the shrubs


When music ends and silence overwhelms

As music went and silence overwhelmed
As in deep despair, I thought to end
When nothing seemed to help me on on my way
Perhaps I’d lost the track and so must pay


Empty now of thought and of desire
The horror of the darkness without fire
The utter loss of any help at all
From the depths, my heart cried out appalled


Expecting nothing, hoping even less
A fire of gold appeared to hold,caress
And tears rained down my face from eyes amazed
While in my flesh I felt caressed and saved


I bowed my head in assent to this good
The crucified, the lost, have understood

The soft heart

If your heart is soft it cannot crack
Nor will it break nor turn itself quite black
Yes, it bleeds when foolish people sin
As sensitive as what we call our skin

All living forms have boundaries and shapes
Dependent on surroundings in good hope
A thin skinned person may feel shame and grief
Despised by scoundrels, devoured by cunning thieves

A person with thick skin shuts out their flaws
Harming others, ignoring love and law
Unless you are a hermit, you will feel,
Living close to others, what they deal

The soft is wise and flexible and heals
The hard heart shatters underneath the wheel