In this life or the next?

Should we have the right to choose when to die?  The great debate on euthanasia continues.

On Saturday the referendums for the End of Life choice and the Cannabis Legalisation and Control Bill will be voted on in New Zealand.

I have been pondering the End of Life Choices Act  and the Cannabis Legislation and Control Bill, and weighing up the pros and cons of each choice. I have listened to both sides of the debate about euthanasia. I have even tuned in to the legalisation of cannabis documentaries – oh those the endless debates!!

Even aside from deciding who to vote for in the general election, these are important decisions to make.

 I have watched a  documentary about the lack of sufficient medical staff, the cost and unavailability of early treatment, the lack of resources, huge waiting times that result in many people are dying before getting any cancer treatment. Is cancer the only way people die these days?

 Do we need the right to make a choice to end our own life?  Is this to be the final solution to overcrowded and underfunded health resources?

What happened to dying of old age?  Can people still die of old age or does there have to be an identified specific cause of death?

 So many questions. Enough already..!

In my usual procrastinating way – I will delay dying as long as I can. Does that mean I have to look after and exercise my  body a bit better? At the very least, I suppose I will exercise my right to vote. 

In this life or the next, or maybe even next week, we may find the answers….or will it just be pot luck?

Putting My Feet in the DirtOctober’s Writing prompts.

Lonely

Paula is the host of Thursday Inspiration
This week’s theme is lonely and the image is below. 

Here is the song snippet from “Lonely Is The Night,” a song written and performed by Billy Squier in 1981.

Lonely is the night when you find yourself alone

Your demons come to light and your mind is not your own

Lonely is the night when there’s no one left to call

You feel the time is right, say the writing’s on the wall 

Lonely

Alone my mind wanders
And questions arise;

If one’s self is alone then is that self lonely?
Is aloneness the same as being lonely? 

Is aloneness the same as loneliness?

Turn loneliness into a comforting aloneness
There is tranquility to be found by being solitary.

An attitude of solitude - is that selfish or selfless?
Selflessness  and oneself-ness - are they the same?  

Am I enough for my own self?...........


Or do I need a cat?

When love is more than love

An interesting concept. Surely love is just love regardless of its current shape or form. 

It can’t  be much less than those exacting expectations we place on our lover. When could it be more? What if it doesn’t feel like love anymore?

 What is love if not a set of mixed emotions? Do we really truly love someone  or something, or is it just that we enjoy being in love with the idea of love – under any circumstances?

Romantic love has its time in our lives but what happens when the first glow of passionate love fades?  Is this when love becomes more complex?  

A mothers love is all-encompassing in those first years of infant dependence. How loving is that mother? Does love conquer all?

Is this when love is more than love? 

Putting My Feet in the DirtOctober’s Writing prompts.This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.

A timeless approach

Here I sit – waiting for someone to approach me. Waiting for someone to talk to me. Hello – I’m a real person.

Life was so much easier  before digital devices became both our timepieces and companions.
And so we have become reliant on our devices- be they smart phones, TVs ,laptops or iPads.

A smart tv is but a modern vehicle for searching for information, connectivity and entertainment. An underground train which travels along a tube- like tunnel is also a vehicle. However this mode of travel does not lend itself to the sharing of information in quite the same manner.  Tunnel vision is a worldwide phenomena. 

People no longer share connected relationships whilst travelling- immersed instead as they are busy searching instead for companionship through their addiction to their smartphones. 

What would happen if the network went down?  Would people actually talk together  in public again? Would they take notice of and approach each other? 

Laptops and iPads mean we never stop working even when on the daily commute. No time to connect with other travellers.

Will there ever be light at the end of the tunnel? Will people notice this loss of real time relationships. Will there ever again be a timeless approach to each other?   

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.\https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/2020/09/01/september-writing-prompts

Meaty muffins

I found a new muffin recipe to make.
The ingredients were all natural and so easy to bake
But if only they had said
Finding the ingredients  would fill me with dread.

Ingredients:

  1. Free range eggs
  2. Stoneground flour
  3. Home cured bacon
  4. Cows Milk

Method:

  1. Collect the free range eggs 
  2. Grind the flour
  3. Catch the pig 
  4. Milk the cow
  5. Mix them altogether

It was that last instruction that I got wrong….

I couldn’t find the eggs so I figured I could just add the chicken  (after all what came first the chicken or the eggs really?)
The wheat didn’t ripen but the stalks could be ground with stones (added texture)
That bacon didn’t cure but I just whipped the pig into the mix  (no squealing involved)
I found it easier to just add the cow rather than milk it first (in case it kicked the bucket)

Finally it was ready to prepare
An amazing mixture without compare
Though the chopping, whipping and stirring was quite a chore.
But such a meaty muffin you never saw before.

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.\https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/2020/09/01/september-writing-prompts

19. A fraction of a fortune

Mathematics is not my game,
Not a fraction of my brain
would I use to try to explain.

But is there more to fortune than just fame? 
"Its simply a numbers games,” they exclaim
This from those who make their fortune
Who are but a fraction of the population.

That fraction of their fortune
Is all they contribute to tax
No wonder there is inequity for the poor
Can they or do they count at all?

Not sharing even a fraction of the fortune
of those who are privileged from birth
or through virtue of the colour of their skin

What can be done to increase their fraction of a fortune?

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.\https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/2020/09/01/september-writing-prompts

18. Polished perfection

“Diamonds are forever – or so they say,” Stella thought pensively.It had been lust at first sight. She had met him at the local club.  He looked dashing, suave and above all – rich.Dressed in the finest of clothes he seemed to be polished perfection.  She was smitten and started her chase.

He was to be her sugar daddy.  She had been on the lookout for someone to take her away from her humble beginnings. She flirted and courted him with all the skill born of desperation.  She had nowhere else to go, no-one else to care for her.Very quickly,  she achieved her goal.  Soon, she was proudly showing off her huge diamond.

However, underneath that polished veneer, there was a tough yet gentle side to his nature.  He wasn’t at all like the successful business men she had targeted before.   

It turned out that his background was the same as hers. Born on the wrong side of the tracks, he had worked his way to the top of the ladder. His posh accent slipped at times, as did hers. In the midst of a heated argument, she suddenly realised that he was not polished perfection at all. His accent was the same as hers used to be.

He was a diamond in the rough. Smooth and sparkly on the outside yet a gentle heart beating beneath that polished exterior.

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.\https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/2020/09/01/september-writing-prompts

17. Nights in Starview Heights

It was to be the night to end all nights. Safely ensconced in her glass haven with a thousand billion stars twinkling above, she waited patiently. After many years her dreams were about to come true. Her night in Starview Heights was about to begin.

The galaxy is not a small place. It is an infinite wonderland of fairy lights and light rays. A magical mystery to behold. Lucky at last to be a witness to the light projected from light years away, she felt so much a part of the giant cosmos stretching out before her.

Not for her was the scientific explanation. She wished for no more than just one single night to experience the magic of the galaxy.

“Oh look – there it is,” she whispered as if speaking aloud would destroy the magic of the universe. And there shining bright in the night sky high above, there swirled an aurora of such beautiful colours.

Aurora Borealis igloo

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.\https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/2020/09/01/september-writing-prompts

16. Jonathan Michael was his name

Jonathan Michael was his name
He was known to all as JM
 A very initialized way of being
He was a tad short for such an elongated name anyway. 
“Pretentious to presume otherwise,” he muttered to himself.  

It was easier to say and spell it that way. 
Still, he wished people would say it his way. 
Not for him would he find fortune or fame
Jonathan Michael was his name

Jonathan Michael had such a flair
JM was his nom de plume 
Quite a shortened man but
Jonathan Michael was his name. 

First he was nicknamed Johnny
Then he was called Mick
He wished they would use his proper name
But JM was their end game
 
Even though he still knew that
Jonathan Michael was his name

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.\https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/2020/09/01/september-writing-prompts

15. Crimson clover compassions

Crimson or scarlet
Compassions or Passion
Is clover a leaf or a flower?
Which is the  current fashion? 


The carpet of crimson clover crept through the garden.
The dandelions thought it dandy that there was another primary colour in the flower bed

Now all that was needed was something  blue. 
However the gardener was known for her sense of compassion whenever someone was feeling blue. Will that do? 

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.\https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/2020/09/01/september-writing-prompts