Thursday, March 31, 2016

A car or terror?


I read recently that on average 30,000 people die in car accidents in Europe every year.  A startling statistic but true nonetheless.

Since the Madrid and London Bombings of 2004/ 2005 respectively approximately 300 people have died from terror attacks on mainland Europe. Or 1% of fatalities due to crashes etc.

So terror as always is usually in our heads. Just how the terrorists like it. It's only the mind game their winning as the odds of actually being involved in a terror attack are minimal to say the least.

Naturally every death caused by terrorists is to be taken seriously and lamented but we should never overstate a reality that is indeed very rare.  This only gives the terrorists weight.

The reality is that the world or at least Europe anyway is not in the state of chaos that our media outlets worldwide would lead us to believe. The same could be said for most parts of the world. Unfortunately, war and violence has always been a part of the human fabric except that now we get images of it instantly.

But nothing has changed really.



Wednesday, March 30, 2016

Religion in Ireland

is the new name for this blog as and from today,

Thanks,
John.

I'm Back

Hello everybody!

I'm back again to ramble on and on and on... I had actually forgotten about this blogger account- If only I had time to write about things on it!

However, it is nice to write although not as pleasurable as putting pen to paper. There is always something more 'alive' about that experience.

Anyhow it would be nice to receive correspondence from those few of you that check in from time to time......

....go on and say hello,


John.

Saturday, November 14, 2015

Ambition

It's only six weeks to Christmas....where is the time going? It's a time I love but the commercial aspect of it now (literally starting now on Nov 1st) is somewhat excessive.

However, it is still a lovely time, especially for children, and brings great joy and happiness to all.  So too for adults I always see this time of year as a time for introspection- and ambition. Ambition to change, redeem, alter and improve.

 The hope that a new year brings should never be underestimated!

Wednesday, October 8, 2014

Send comments to my e-mail

Hi there,

My comment box doesn't work for some reason.  If you'd like to comment on any article please send to: johnjohnaughrim@hotmail.com instead. Title e-mail Blogger Comment otherwise it will go out with junk,

Thanks,

John.

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

40 Years: Wow!

It's been a long time since I've written anything on my blog but for some reason I feel compelled to do so. In fact it isn't some reason but closely related to reason is fact. I am 40 years old.  Well ...on Sunday. Wow, I genuinely feel like a 22 year old, still listen to contemporary pop music, still dreaming about the future and still loving life.

I am shocked though that it arrived so fast.  Where did the time go?Ironically I look 45-50 which I find even more shocking.  Never did I think I'd ever be associated with such numbers.  But yes my time has come but as a temporary optimist it is comforting to know that life indeed does begin at 40

Monday, September 2, 2013

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Somebody, please write a comment!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Parody Coma

As always the Irish media dissappoint.  Trappatoni betrayed. Even nice boy Niall Quinn was at it today on the INDO. And as always, when things don't work out we'll go back like lap dogs to our regular Irish sages of Gay Byrne or Roy Keane for salvation, the patronising quip and hope. As Irish peoples brains don't function until they live in the past, their past, and all things past.

 The past was better you see. Teachers taught you stuff back then in the past, music was better in the 60s, 70s, 80s, mass was full and the pint wasnt tampered with chemicals. It will be the World Cup 2062 and we'll still want our regular wise ones to tell it as it is...we dont usually know 'how it is' ourselves you see. So Keano: the Zidane, Figo of romantic Irish minds will still be telling us how it is as we dont trust our own abilities as Irish people to think for ourselves. After all, if you're on the telly, are a big fish in a small pond then you are far superior an intellect just like Gaybo. And to be on the telly in the 60's...wow...watch your back Stephen Hawkins. And to be on the telly in Britain with your Oirish accent.   Untouchable.

 For to be a hero in Ireland you are always going to be blown out of proportion.  We do that to our heroes. Just like the little boy who has a big brother; adored.  Ireland is the little boy making myths out of our very few heroes to the detriment of our heroes own selves. Take Roy. Poor Roy is acting like Roy Keane. A parody becoming a self. It's tragic, created by us the meager, lacking in confidence public who needed a hero and exaggerated their very existence.  Yes Roy was good and I'm sure he's a really nice guy, but he was no Zidane. More importantly he is not and was not the only footballer ever who wanted to win a match. What a ridiculous caricature we have created.  'Roy always wanted to win, Roy was so determined, ambitious, eager, hated losing' and so on.

I  played tennis all my teenage years and beyond. I rarely won. I played other sports also and frequently got beaten.  But one thing is for sure. I never, ever wanted to be beaten, Ever. I genuinely don't think or believe any sports person in any discipline ever wants to be beaten.  It's insane to think that it's possible. So where did this ridiculous concept that Roy Keane always wanted to win come from? Of Course he did.  He's a sports man! He is not the only player therefore for Ireland or United who wanted to win.

So let's get things into perspective in the aftermat of Ireland's exit from the World Cup. We do not need Roy Keane, a figure of the past becoming a muse for Niall Quinn and others during and after this tournament.  Niall disrespectfully suggesting Roy should now manage Ireland)We have to believe in the present and  future and our own opinions. ( I will not tolerate another person saying what do you know, you weren't a professional like Roy- Roy wanted to win, Roy was great etc.......) I know he was good. He's one of Ireland's few legends.

This isn't about Roy Keane, although I do think we the Irish public have to share in the blame of creating this caricature of a 'broody, I only think about winning loner' which tragically it appears he has grown to believe.  This is about being true to oneself, being humble and not being legends in our own minds. Unfortunately, as Roy has found out at his cost this can have very destructive outcomes. Even more unfortunate is that those people who claim to care about him and love him are not telling him how ridiculous and devestating this 'win at all costs psuedo- rant' is having on his well earned reputation as a great player.  It genuinely upsets me to see all of this being tarnised simply because he has no real sense of self- awareness and even truth and that the people around him are happy to see him in a total state of' 'paraody coma'.

Lets leave Roy and Gaybo alone. We're a smart race. We can think and believe whatever all on our own.  We need nobodies approval. We don't need sensation and as a good race we don't need the past beating down the present as is the case of Trapatonni versus the old dogs of the soccer world. Come on Ireland.. we all want to see you win, NATURALLY! That's what pros do!


Monday, March 12, 2012

Comment please

Please comment those of you reading now.  Just want to see its working properly,

Thanks, John

Monday, February 13, 2012

One Moment in Time

Sometimes I'm both struck and stuck. Struck by an overwhelming sense of loss; a meloncholy that lingers unexplained and stuck, insofar as I have no comprehension as to how such a feeling exists and why it exists NOW. It's a classic case of the subconscious entering into the realm of consciousness. That little part in your mind, that golden corridor that houses memories and remains more often than not hidden. Then something happens.

This 'something happens' is like an itch. You know that, although nothing immediate in your life has happened, no birth, no death, no re-birth; something has changed and has in a very subtle manner dripped into your awareness. It's frustrating and annoying especially now that it's two days and no obvious explaination.

Then you watch the news. As somebody who has or at least had an ecclectic taste in music except for all things Diva-ish, it came as a genuine surprise to me that I felt somewhat lamentful in Whitney Heuston's passing. After all, what had I in common with her? She's female, American, black and sang gospel. I'm male, Irish, white and didn't sing gospel. I didn't sing anything!

I never met Whitney Heuston. Most of us haven't. She was obviously very successful at what she did and appears to have inspired many. But why would a person who, although I appreciated and recognised her talent but was not affected by it emotionally, having no attachment to any of her songs, feel somewhat sad?

The answer is memory. It would seem quiet simply that Whitney was living her life while I was living mine. Her success coincided with my attempts to join the world of adolesence and beyond. She was my background music, singing softly in the corridors of night clubs, pubs and even the last chance saloons of taxi-ranks or even Italian Chip shops, long before the days of Supermacs. She sang the anthems for the many sports that I love, singing One moment in Time every time I scored that last minute winner for Ireland in the World Cup Final. Yes my day dreams in bed were all the sweeter with her voice, although subliminal, whispering in my head.

Whitney was probably lurking in the background when I had my first kiss, my first drink, went to my first night- club, when I first fell in love. She was always there, reliable as her smile always gorgeous. I do remember thinking she was beautiful when I was young. She always seemed happy and joyful. It goes without saying that I learned very early in my life, pre- puberty, that I was hetersexual because of her..and Stephaine Powers. Remember her? Hart to Hart. God I loved Stephaine. I couldn't wait to grow up and share baths with somebody beautiful like her just like she did with Robert Wagner. It wasn't even sexual, it was pure and simple puppy love. Innocent as love often is. And Whitney was without a doubt another of my puppies.

Thank you Whitney, not just for your music, which to a great extent is insignificant here as I wasn't a true fan but for reminding me that everybody living during my life has a role in it whether immediate or in the background. That is why I always remember my parents sighing when they would hear of a famous singer or actor dying; similar to this, it wasn't because they knew him or her or even liked him or her but it was because such persons were of 'their time.'

Whitney you were of my time. And it is that time in fact to which I mourn most. I realise that I mourn really, not your passing as I didn't know you, but instead I mourn the childish innocent memories of hoping for a 'like you' person as my first love, the possibilities of the loves to come, the memories I have as you belted out your finest as I was growing up. Going to primary school, then secondary school and so on. Yes Whitney, that lingering meloncholy that lasted for two days stems from a deep acknowledgement of how time and memory are anchored deep in our hearts and entrenched in our minds. And how without noticing it you played a significant part in my life. Thank you for the memories, although mine.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Comments

I am delighted that 23 people from Germany have read my blog today and over 40 this week. However, I would love if you would leave a comment. If its not working then please e-mail me. Thanks. John.....and keep reading!!!

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

A boy and a dictator

I remember many years ago in primary school seeing 'a big lad' beat up a timid yet older and bolder boy.  It was deserved many of us thought.  He was a little...... who could not be trusted, a thief who had a big mouth, big brothers, was a bully and 'a big lad' himself when surrounded by 'bigger' lads.

However, today he was on his own. No big brothers and no big mouth. In fact he was unable to speak as nervousness brought anxiety and saliva to his quivering, frightened mouth. Swollen from the relentless kicking to his delicate body and face prevented the verbal bravado to exist also. This 12 year old bully became a 5 year old kitten. Terrified, knowing he was about to be humiliated in front of all his peers walking back to school at lunch time.

I can't remember the kicks, punches and taunting by the growing crowd. Their physical reality I can see but their impact emotionally remain non- existent.  What haunts me though is the look in the boys face. I knew him personally and didn't like him. I always felt that if I was to see this day it would not cost me a thought- just deserts, you get what you deserve and all that. What struck me also that day was the look in the stronger boys face.  The wronged boy for what ever reason who was beating the bully senselessly was not enjoying it.  It appeared that the boy like me knew that although it may seem just, appear just and be just- it just wasn't just. It was offensive, ugly, dehumanising (for both of them) and humanly sad. 

On this day the realisation of three things occurred for me and maybe even the big boy: Our hearts surprise us even when we think a certain just action is deserved and that such a realisation may impact on us heavily after the event. The second is closely related to the first- be wary of reasoned morality, including our own.  Let us not be moral or be guided by the retributive moral judgements of others if we are not prepared to act on it ourselves e.g. don't talk about the death penalty unless you're prepared to inject, shoot, electrocute the person yourself. (Of course its easy knowing that a State employee is going to do it behind 18 ft walls and barbed wire). I know for a fact the big boy that day was inspired by the rational arguments of his peers and was egged on. Yet its on his boots and dreams when the bullies blood lies, not theirs. Thirdly, life constantly surprises us- our humanity and cries for eternal friendship and peace always remain prevalent and real.  Especially on occasions like these.

I know events like this both surprise us and remain with us.   I genuinely thought I'd forgotten this event and other similar experiences. Yet like most of us who had to endure the live beating and eventual killing of Colonel Gaddafi, the memory came flooding back.

I pray simply for the men who killed him.  Yes with reason and words they will tell us what happened was just.  They will convince themselves of this reality until the day they die.  They may even be hailed as heroes. The arguments for their actions may be valid and robust, after all Colonel Gaddafi did unimaginable horrible things. Yet I pray for them as somewhere between me, a twelve year old bully and a strong boy looking for justice was a real and genuine sense of inhumanity, spiritual demoralisation and a realisation that nobody would benefit from this depraved act. I can only imagine the aura between those after the killing of another human being. Just and all as it appears to be.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

The addition of Justice

Another child died the other day. Apparently he was shot. They put him on a boat and threw him into the sea. The big boys said that he deserved it. This child they said, killed thousands of innocent people. Thousands of innocent loving people. It was justified.

Now it's thousands of loving people plus one.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

My South Korean friends.

I am delighted to see so many people reading my blog in South Korea, especially today.  Thank You. Please post your comments and keep in touch.

Thanks Again,
John.

Monday, March 7, 2011

Comment on Comment

Apologies to those who may have tried to write a comment on my blog page.  As it transpired I had it disabled by accident.  It is now working so please feel free to comment on anything that I have wrote.
Thanks,
John.
7th March, 2011.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Simple Science.

Did you ever have a moment when you were suddenly struck by Life? Like a bolt of lightning.  Deeply sudden.  Deeply profound.  The idea that you as an entity on this planet and in this Universe exist right now in 'this time'. It is a moment of awe and wonder.  You exist as you. As no other.

One of the greatest challenges to science, as it has always been in philosophy is the idea of the self, or consciousness. After all when there are no mirrors around can you be sure that you are you? How do you know without such empirical evidence? Why should you be you? Why not somebody else?  The idea that we identify ourselves, know ourselves to be ourselves and not 'other' self's is awe inspiring, baffling and profound. Amazingly we still do not know why the self identifies itself with 'the self'.  It is a mystery, just like the Universe.

So as pseudo scientists, let's keep it simple.  We don't need to have all the answers to the meaning of, and the origins of the Universe. We don't need Phd's in astro- physics to know that there is as interesting a puzzle in relation to origins and meaning.  So what not start your study at a simple level first: Start with the mystery of YOU.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Sack the stylist

As you all may know there is an General election taking place in Ireland. Lots of rhetoric, apologies for past mistakes, and plenty of promises for the future. There are also plenty of parties around to make such promises and I'm such there will be plenty of mistakes in the future.

What intrigues me the most is the unabashed, unashamed admission about how important image and spin is, how advertising giants like Sacchi and Sacchi can create a positive look for a party to the populous and turn policies into poetry.

There was and still is a time when politicians had to decide whether to use the traditional European model of getting their message across by using facts about taxes and the economy and reason to justify their positions so as to sway the voter towards their principles.  More recently the American emotive model has been employed to move voters with stories of triumpt over poverty, rags to riches and how when they were little boys they wanted to change the world, while they wiped their eyes with tissues sponsored by Coca- Cola as they stared into the camera.

Personally, I have lost interest in both models of persuasion.  Blatantly using tax payers money to employ stylists and spin merchants is an admission that all is literally not as it appears. Politicians must learn now that all people want is the truth. You have nothing to fear ever if you have the truth. And the truth can always be told in rags.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Mr. Scapegoat

It may appear slightly surprising to mention the book of Leviticus in the same sentence as the former leader of Fianna Fail, Mr. Brian Cowen. However, it is in this famous Biblical  book from the Hebrew scriptures where one reads for the first time about the Scapegoat.  I think it is appropriate at this time to dwell on this term and then to draw ourselves towards Mr. Cowen's fate as Irish Leader.

During the build up to the Day Of Atonement (Yom Kippur as it is commonly known now), where the Jewish people prepared themselves for God's forgiveness, a goat would be released into the desert with all the sins of the people. It symbolised freedom from sin and an opportunity to turn to God and gain his favour. The poor goat as sacrifice, ambled about until he collapsed under the weight of the Jewish sun and the sins of the people. Without water it would perish.

The word 'scape' is an abbreviated version of the word 'escape'.  Our sins have escaped by and through the goat. We have no more responsibility for our wrongdoings and reconcile ourselves to Yahweh or Elohim.  The goat dies. We live.

I am not advocating any political point of view. It is apparent though  that Mr. Cowen has been told to look for water not only by the public, who in turn are fuelled by the media, but also by his own political buddies who wish now to throw their sins and misdemeanors on to our vulnerable sacrificial goat leader.

The former leader of FF may indeed be the author of his own misfortune. Like every body else he has limitations. However, there has been in recent weeks, if not months, a vile and aggressive arrogance by the media towards the leader of this country. Too long now has this apparent free press given up its noble principles regarding fair news journalism to instead replace it with personal attacks on Mr.Cowen .

 How Mr. Cowen looks or weighs is of no concern to me.  What he drinks or doesn't drink isn't of primary importance, nor is his personality or where he is from.  After all, most of us are overweight, drink too much and the rest and journalists aren't exactly noted for their sober lifestyles. Especially Irish ones. What's more troubling is we as a people have angrily bayed for his blood also. Yes, Mr. Cowen was the sinner who brought down Lehman Brothers, Spain and  Greece, brought in the IMF and every other European who wanted cash at very high rates of interest.  It was he alone who brought down the Western World.

All we did was drink Lattes on our decks whilst reading the property sections (Big earner for 'quality' papers I believe) knowing deep down inside that one day we would find our very own goat. Yes, as we stand in our ghost estates, knowing that even Green pastures would no longer be available for the unfortunate Billy, we should acknowledge, especially those in contact professionally or otherwise with Mr. Cowen, that sending out an animal to die is ugly, two- faced, inhuman and wrong.

Indeed, all of us need to recognise this, if we are to still value our beautiful nation and the people within it.  We also need to face up to our part in this debacle. Together we need to search for water to survive. Otherwise the burden of the past 13 years will destroy us all.   All we have to do now is follow the members of the Fianna Fail party to the well, somewhere in the intense heat.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

The yet to be advantaged.

There are many educational psychologists today who, along with giving us a broader definition of what intelligence actually means, are trying to ascertain how we measure it.  Bottle it if you like.  Progress in this field has outlined for us that it is actually a broad area, a broad term, unlike our more traditional understanding of what it meant in the past i.e. rote learning etc.

There is, as any teacher will tell you, room for rote learning. Plenty of room in fact. The basics are paramount to building foundations.  However, what has changed is the recognition that these foundations can hold weighty forms of various types of intelligences, not just numerical or written forms: Artistic and emotional intelligences, to name but two, are now considered as truly valuable intelligences in a multitude of disciplines.

 A simple example of how invaluable such measurements and recognition of such intelligences are is in our new testing procedures for potential medical students.  Before you just needed to be a professional 'roter' and wealthy enough to obtain as many grinds as possible while you sat the Leaving Cert. (Irish Final Secondary School Exams) 2 or 3 times. Matriculation exams also.  The question of whether you were a compassionate person, a discerning person, a people person was never even asked. How you would feel telling a mother that their child had died was not the concern of the medical establishment after all.  Men and women of stone was the requirement of the day.  It was apparently a good thing to leave your emotions at home.  It was professional!

People are wiser now in every sense of the word. Thankfully through the work of psychology we no longer, or at least should no longer tolerate dispassionate, clinical, pompous fools. It should be an honour to heal the sick. It should never be the other way round where people feel obliged to worship them, the medical profession, thankful that they have 'been seen' at the altar of their intelligences.

The reality is, we should never worship intelligence. It is a subtle form of idolatry; by giving your power away to this false god you run the risk of believing that you are inferior to others. On the other hand you may believe mistakenly that it is the only thing that is of value in your life- so in other words, people's perceptions of you still matter! We should never envy intelligence also.  People who have worked and strive hard to discover methods to improve their intelligence (s) should be credited and rewarded. As the various types of intelligences in all their glory lead to one path in my opinion: God.

People who believe this in some shape or form (possibly without even knowing it) also change lives. Or put simply, people who use their gifts and talents for the benefit and joy of others and who are not arrogant have the potential to change things, people, and even society.  I'll give you an example:

When in 1st or 2nd year at school I came home one day to notice the poet Brendan Kenneally on Live at 3 with Thelma Mansfield. (Remember that?)  I had no idea who he was and had no idea who I was for that matter.  Ironically, I teach his poetry now. At the time I quietly liked poetry at school and secretly fancied the idea of maybe being a teacher or a writer. However, that was just for intelligent people!  As there wasn't a strong tradition to go to college, let alone finish out school at home, I saw intelligence as other worldly.  I felt comfortable believing it was a genetic thing although I hadn't even heard of Darwin, evolution or genes at this stage. I obviously had experienced or even subjected myself to social Darwinism before I even knew him or it. (Social Darwinism in a nutshell being the exploitation and manipulation of Darwin's theory so as to dis empower others for ones own intellectual, political but mainly financial interests over the vulnerable in society and our world.).

When asked what his favourite past time was, Kenneally answered that it was looking up the meaning of words in a dictionary.  Bang.  My world changed. Here was professor Kenneally, lecturer of English Literature at Trinity College, regular on Ireland's famous chat show The Late Late Show, and he needed a BLOODY DICTIONARY. Of course he did! How in God's name was he going to learn the meaning of new words otherwise. Were birds going to drop them into his ears while he was asleep with the hope that the meaning or reference would in some way penetrate his sub- conscious while he snored? It sounds so obvious now, stupid in fact, but I believed intelligent people were...............Intelligent. Always. As opposed to learners. However, this eureka moment was to leave a lasting impression on me. I realised that for too long I had observed intelligence socially and made the inaccurate inference that genes preferred the rich and powerful. I now know that sperm and ovum's don't really know what street they're on. 

While it is true that a persons background will have a dramatic impact on their education due to the attitude and effort given by the child's parents and community along with other socio/ economic restraints, educators and psychologists should never forget that the potential and gifts a child has is assured. In other words, one or two or three of those seven recognised and established intelligences are in there somewhere.The child just has to believe it. But more importantly educators along with society has to believe it and recognise it too. They as adults can help the child find these gifts.  And make no mistake about it intelligence is a gift.

Like all gifts they may be used or neglected, abused or shared.  However, it must be a given that true fulfillment stems from discovering and embracing the intellectual genetic make-up of who you truly are. We are all genetic types, personality types etc. emerging as we do from thousands of years of evolution in a complex yet inclusive beauty. It is not good enough therefore, in my opinion, for educators or society to talk about children or communities as the 'disavantaged'.

As creations of God we are never disadvantaged. Life may bring poverty, abuse, and discrimination and yes these are stumbling blocks for growth.  But using labels to define a persons life, a label with a permanent edge to it is the greatest of all obstacles as it puts up walls which both block people out and keeps people into a world of hopelessness. No, there is no disadvantaged when we believe that God truly does give us unique and special talents and the potential for growth whether that means looking up a dictionary or discovering a new attitude. Either way the only disadvantaged are those who don't believe this. Theirs is a world bleak, narrow and judgemental.  For the rest of us, with patience and faith our advantage will come.