Body Modification – fascinating if you have time to watch

We humans on planet earth, have always done body modification. Some we do for beauty and ornamentation. And some to repair that in us which is deformed or broken.

With modern medicine at hand, we can change our bodies more safely than we have ever done before.

It is both miraculous and grotesque. It is legal – most of it.

It is a fact that we own our own bodies – if we want to use body modification – WE do it. The crime in body modification is when it is done TO us.

Ritual piercings and body modification can be used for spiritual journeying – as a child I watched Hindus attaching limes to their chests and backs before fire walking. Out of the body experiences are pretty common too – and various situations can trigger them.

Here is Fakir Mustapha being interviewed in two fascinating movies – part one.

Part two

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Revolution series on Sky 1 – daft detail…

 

I have a question for the makers of the Revolution series on Sky 1.

Where there is fire, there is steam. Where there is steam there is transport.

Why, in fifteen years of electrical blackout, couldn’t anyone construct anything that worked with steam? Were there no inventors? And what about wind? Surely humans would be ingenious?

Pity about that bit. But then it’s only a movie.

The daft details in real life get me more, can I say, “steamed up”.

Consumer Rats

When our kids were little, they had rats. Rats make excellent pets. Their rats were white with red eyes, pink tails – the kind you see in laboratories or being fed to Pythons.

Their rats were never caged. They lived on top of a built in cupboard whose top was accessible to us from halfway up the stairs.  They never tried to escape. And I don’t think they could. On three sides of their shelf, was wall and wood and the other side was a six foot drop. The kids took them out for “walks” regularly. They were fun, not creepy.

The rats play and life area was stocked with really clever rat equipment. In those days rat furniture and tunnels and puzzles were all home made. Cardboard boxes, cardboard tubes, panty hose hammocks, puzzles and wash line climbing ropes kept them busy and healthy. And they were droll to watch as we passed by on the stairs or the hall below.

Now, my grandson has rats – designer rats – very smart – no red eyes with grey and white coats and neat black tails. And the modern rat, now lives in a rat condominium with all the mod cons!  My grandson’s rats have exercise wheels and hammocks and cages and special rat food to keep them in peak condition. All their consumer goods can be steam cleaned and sterilised.

No matter how I feel that our kids had more fun with their rats, because it was all so spontaneous and Heath Robinson, I must admit that the goods the new consumer rats enjoy, are really clever.

There are loads of things that are better now because of consumerism. Nowadays no one has to climb Everest in jerseys knitted by their wives or grandmothers, runners do not have to run a marathon in plimsolls or tennis shoes. And clothing is so much easier too. If it has to be ironed, I don’t buy it.

So, when my daughter strung a pantyhose hammock in the rat’s cage like she used to long ago in her childhood, I wasn’t at all surprised when they made it clear they were the new consumer type rats of the modern age by preferring the designer hammocks instead.

Preventing pleasure and excellent video worth watching

Pregnancy out of marriage was as recently as the 1960’s considered “filthy”. Babies were removed from their mothers. Unmarried mothers were forced into great efforts to hide their indiscretion from the people around them. They had been caught out in the unacceptable sin of sleeping with someone. The tight morals of society prevented girls from misbehaving, by punishing them if they did. With the advent of the pill, who knew who slept with whom? Sin became unpreventable by either judgement or punishment. It became secret – really secret – because the outcome didn’t have to be pregnancy.

We have been through the normalisation of sex.

Strangely, through the same years, we have been through the de-normalisation of smoking. It’s almost like we have to stand in judgement against some kind of activity that gives pleasure, by preventing it. Preventing since the 1960’s has snowballed.

Some aspect of almost everything we do in life, is prevented – “for our own good”. We do this by legislation.

We have caused things to happen by our efforts to prevent.

There is a war on drugs.Yet, since the sixties, drugs are more availiable and diverse.
There is a war on smoking Yet smoking stays at more or less a quarter of the population.
There is a war on obesity So the “healthy” diet that is promoted is obviously not.
There is a war on alcohol, the only legal way to “forget”.

Now, I see a new war coming, a spinoff from smoking, a war on electronic cigarettes. According to the EU Tobacco Control Directive, these, if they contain over 0.2mg of nicotine, must be classified “medical devices”. This will prevent any pleasure to those who vape for the nicotine as lifestyle.

Preventing, preventing, preventing….it really needs to be stopped. This is an excellent video to watch on both sides of the debate and the preventing mentality is exposed – “for your own good”, ” for the good of our children” “for your country’s good” “for our financial good” – control, control, control…..enjoy!

Drink, Smoke, Eat, Prohibition today.

Knocking down the sherriffs

We have elections coming up in just over a month.

I will vote with a spoiled vote. I could have not bothered to vote at all. But then I would just look apathetic – and there are too many of those kinds of people around already!

So I will spoil my vote by crossing out everyone on the list and writing UKIP in LARGE letters across the form – and then, in case the counters don’t know what to do with the paper I will write (spoiled vote) in brackets so they know which pile to put it in..

From Wonderful Wikiperdia –


The validity of the election may be questioned if there is an unusually high proportion of spoilt votes. However, in countries such as the UK where spoilt ballots are counted, some voters will deliberately spoil their ballot paper to show disapproval of the candidates available whilst still taking part in the electoral process. This may include signing or printing the voter’s name on the ballot slip. Evidence points that this practice dates back to times when electoral wards were assigned a designated scīrgerefa (Old English) or “sheriff” a royal official responsible for keeping the peace throughout a shire or county on behalf of the king and who would pay royalties to those who had shown their support.

 I don’t like any of our sherriffs and the current government is a real right mess!

Small alien has landed

We have a small human looking alien that landed with eye watering speed day before yesterday. It arrived in the most civilised manner without hours of labour and angst. I am grateful for that.

This little girl-human is perfect despite the Medical Profession suggesting constantly it would be otherwise. I presume they do that so that if something were to be wrong, they would avoid litigation. But it seems pretty cruel on the pregnant mums who have to endure the worry of it.

Doctors and specialists are so strange in this alien world I now live in. They never give an opinion. They simply repeat your options in the circumstances you find yourself in over and over like little robots even if you ask them what THEY would advise. They are trying to escape litigation too.They are no longer doctors as I know the word – they know nothing about you, have concern for you as another check on their tick-boxes, and I think, with the Internet, we know a lot more than they would like – and I feel sorry for them now they have been reduced to tick box ticker robots instead of meaningful family advisors and trusted family friends.

Wonder if the small human, on some soul-level, knows what a crazy planet she’s come to?

Waiting

The baby is on its way.

I have had four daughters and one son. I have played this waiting game seven times. This is number seven waiting for grandchild to be born. It’s horrible. I have rocks in my stomach. I am hoping all will go well and the baby will be strong and normal and the birth not too traumatic.

And, again, I realise how completely alone all of us really are. No matter how kind and attentive the medical staff are, the presence of your husband, your Mum, your Nanna, your family, your doula – whatever – you have to give birth, be born, and die, eventually, all by yourself.

I wish I could take away some pain.

But I can’t, so I’m just waiting for the next text, the next phone call.

Thank goodness for little girls – and the NHS

We are having our seventh grandchild on Friday the 22th March. There have been a few glitches in the pregnancy and our daughter has spent a lot of time in and around our nearest large hospital. So we have been looking after her two-year-old a lot.  It’s quite exhausting. I wonder how I ever managed with FIVE!

This little granddaughter that we are looking after so much, is a real cutie-pot-pie-face. Congenial in every way. So she’s really no trouble.

But, I need to say how impressed I am with the National Health Service. They have been meticulous in monitoring what is happening inside our daughter, with amazing technology not available in my day. So I hope her little sister (yes it’s a girl) will arrive safely and be as congenial too.

The stress is really hectic! Roll on Friday and NHS – do your thing!