Strolling through the graveyard in early April,
I enjoy the warm sunshine.
I am not sure of the divine.
Still,
A man may take pleasure
Whilst not knowing whether
Mother Nature, or the Creator
Causes the sun to shine.
Both are divine.
And a minuscule
Virus does wait,
Unseen by the eyes,
To seal the fate
Of the fool
And the wise,
For it does not discriminate.
Oft I
Pass By
The graveyard plot,
But rarely stop
Though one day,
I shall stay
When the creator
(Whether god or nature)
Takes my breath away.
“Excuse me, can I pray for you?”
“Yeah, do what you like”!
There I was, on my way home earlier this evening, when a random stranger accosted me (and I responded), in the manner set-out above.
Some may interpret my reply as brusque, perhaps even rude. However I am blind and a guide dog user and my gut instinct screamed “this man is a religious zealot who believes that by praying for me he will, with god’s assistance, help me in regaining my eyesight”.
I don’t have a problem with religion. If religious belief gives a person a sense of wellbeing and (hopefully) makes them live a good life, then I am all in favour of religion.
I also believe that if religion helps believers to cope with the death of a loved one (due to their belief that the person who has passed away has gone to a better place), then I have no right to disabuse them of that conception, as to do so would be cruel.
Furthermore, as a child/teenager, I derived tremendous pleasure from the traditions associated with religion, including the singing of hymns and the sense of peace I gained from being in the school chapel.
I would describe myself as an agnostic (rather than an atheist), so have no anti-religion axe to grind.
No, what I object to is people (religious or otherwise) ramming their ideas down the throats of others.
Indeed I have experienced equal annoyance when being brow beaten by atheists who insist in disparaging people of religious belief.
If you don’t like religion you are, of course perfectly entitled to your point of view, but please don’t corner me in the pub and ram your dogma (which is equally as unpleasant as that of the religious zealot) down my throat as, quite frankly I wish to enjoy a quiet pint without being lectured by a saloon bar bore.
The above should not be taken as indicating an unwillingness on my part to engage in friendly debate on religion or, indeed any other subject. I enjoy discussion with open minded individuals.
What I object to is having a particular view rammed down my throat by those who are not prepared to listen to counter arguments.
I defend the right of people to hold inflexible views on religion or any other topic. However I also stand up for my absolute right not to be asailed by zealots, religious or otherwise.
In the wood’s dark
Heart the breeze
Whispers in the trees
Words that I can not comprehend.
May god send
Me peace
And this breeze
Never cease.
Papa above!
Regard a Mouse
O’erpowered by the Cat!
Reserve within thy kingdom
A “Mansion” for the Rat!
Snug in seraphic Cupboards
To nibble all the day
While unsuspecting Cycles
Wheel solemnly away!
The vision of heaven related by the brain surgeon in the above article reminds me of Hardy’s poem, “The Oxen”. In it the poet hints that he is sceptical about the existence of god however, where he to be asked to visit the barn, on a christmas eve to see the oxen kneel he would go, “hoping it might be so”.
“Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.
“Now they are all on their knees,”
An elder said as we sat in a flock
By the embers in hearthside ease.
We pictured the meek mild creatures where
They dwelt in their strawy pen,
Nor did it occur to one of us there
To doubt they were kneeling then.
So fair a fancy few would weave
In these years! Yet, I feel,
If someone said on Christmas Eve,
“Come; see the oxen kneel,
“In the lonely barton by yonder coomb
Our childhood used to know,”
I should go with him in the gloom,
Hoping it might be so.”
“Have you seen my long spoon?”
“No, why do you need that bent old thing anyway? It’s caked in rust and falling apart”.
“I’m off to sup with the devil”.
“Ah, I understand, he who sups with the devil should use a long spoon”.
“Precisely so”.
“But you are God, surely the lord of the universe doesn’t require a long spoon to protect himself from the prince of darkness?”
“You don’t understand. It’s a tradition. Without tradition where would we be?”
“But, with respect, you are the supreme being, can’t you create a new long spoon?”
“But I was extremely fond of the old one. Where can it be?”
“Perhaps the devil is using it to stir up trouble on earth”.
“That is a terrible joke and unworthy of an ark angel”.
“No, seriously sire your long spoon is ideally suited for stirring up humanity”.
“You may have a point. Really it isn’t good enough. Satan should be content with that fearsome pitch fawk of his but, no he has to go and steal my long spoon”.
“Excuse me sire, what is that you are sitting on?”
“Oh, its my long spoon, heaven be praised. Oh heavens I’ll have to apologise to Lucifer, fancy accusing him of stealing it like that”.
“Well sire I guess there has to be a first time for everything …”.
The Satan we meet in Kevin Cooper’s “The Devils Apology” is very different from the being portrayed in Milton’s Paradise Lost, or is he? Cooper’s Devil describes a vengeful god who, not content with ruling his own realm forceably encroaches on Lucifer’s kingdom. The devil is forced to defend his kingdom and it is only through bad luck that god (rather than Satan) is victorious. In an amusing passage Lucifer describes how he punched God in the face rendering him ugly. This is, he informs us why God will never show himself to humanity.
Throughout Satan is persuasive and the reader, as with the Rolling Stones Sympathy for the Devil, begins to warm to him. However we ought to remember that it is the devil with whom we are dealing. The silver tongued serpent, described by Milton, who will say or do anything to obtain his ends. Can we believe a word he says? Alternatively is it God who has been hood winking us into believing his version of events and is the devil a much maligned creature? You decide. For “The Devils Apology” please visit http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Devils-Apology-Kevin-Cooper-ebook/dp/B00ELN2EK6
Once I have finished my present project (my book Samantha which tells the story of a young girl forced into prostitution by her brutal pimp, Barry in the city of Liverpool) I’m considering writing about the experiences of a young muslim girl/lady growing up in the UK. I want to explore the conflicting pulls of the west and Islamic worlds. This will entail a great deal of research in terms of reading both online and traditional paper books. It will be a long term project and I’d welcome any help which anyone can offer. In particular I would be interested to hear from muslim ladies (either practicing or non practicing) who have been brought up in the west. Please do get in touch either by leaving a comment on this blog or, alternatively by sending an email to newauthoronline@gmail.com.
Many thanks,
Kevin
Last night the wind buffetted my windows drowning out all other sound. Lying in bed I felt the raw power of nature – not the sanatised picture of nature with lambs gambling in sunlit fields, a gentle summer breeze carrying the scent of new mown hay – rather a feeling of desolation, of the insignificance of man filled my soul. Lying warm in my bed my thoughts where cold like the great wind battering my window panes.
Now sitting at my computer in this familiar room, a warm blue carpet under my bare feet and surrounded by books I feel cacooned in the warm embrace of what we call civilisation. We cling to the solid, to material things but forever on the periphery nature stands laughing at our pretenciousness. She was here before we came and when we go she will remain.
As I stroked my labrador comfortably ensconced in his basket I pondered whether it is better to live in the moment with no conception of mortality as he does or if it is preferable to feel and think as we humans do. It is an interesting question but, ultimately an unanswerable one. We are what we are and my four legged friend is what nature, evolution or god (take your pick) designed.
K Morris - Poet 