DNA IS THE SECRET

The excitement of discovery this corroboration of the crucial role of DNA as both the store and transmitter of experience, throughout space-time, cannot be expressed. It makes the underlying hypothesis of ‘Involution-An Odyssey’ easy to grasp and offers anyone interested a clear and explicit understanding. Please take the time to understand this for yourselves, because its relevance cannot be overstated. So exciting to understand creation and responsibility!

mkirtikarphd's avatarMargos Blog

Here’s something that everyone should know by now! Explained simply clearly, easy to understand – by SacredSarrah on you tube.

I found this on you tube and thought I’d share it here with you.  Enjoy! Learn! Have fun! Grow!

YOU ARE THE CREATOR!

PART ONE of FOUR

PART TWO of FOUR

PART THREE of FOUR

PART FOUR OF FOUR

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Evolution Through “Involution”

This spontaneous help truly generous!

Today: Guest of Mary Gottschalk on Secrets (and Lies)

Today: Guest of Mary Gottschalk on Secrets (and Lies).

Advertise And Introduce Yourself

Generous offer from Stephen Fox.

Mandela’s Forbears- Some even White.

Harold Jowitt -’Enlightened Visionary’

In the aftermath of Mandela’s death many have sought to exploit any political advantage by either claiming that they too were enlightened liberals ( the Peter Hain’s (et al) who have made it a career climbing claim) or that no white man ever saw the light until led by this extraordinary statesman. What for me began as a quiet tribute to those I knew (and like Mandela knew of) has now escalated into an unedifying scramble for Mandela stardust. The Times carries letters of both kinds, from politicians like Dennis MacShane, never slow to exploit an opening to discredit Thatcher or conservative policy

Minnie Humphreys Barrett (van den Bosch) and Harold Jowitt fluent Swahili and Zulu linguist

Minnie Humphreys Barrett (van den Bosch) and Harold Jowitt fluent Swahili and Zulu linguist

, or plaintive rebukes from those who had reasons to know otherwise, friends of Bram Fischer the defense attorney at the Treason Trial, committed to life imprisonment.

It seems I must join the fray. Not to climb the Mandela bandwagon, but to support a deeper truth, that South Africa incubated Mandela. Smuts, Sir Seretse Khama, Albert Luthuli, Trevor Huddleston in different ways all contributed the dignity of humanity free of race, or prejudice, which might have given Mandela his faith in what he sought to achieve. I grew up amongst many of them, Afrikaaners, English speaking Whites and Blacks of varied tribal origins. On the strength of the post I wrote immediately after news of his death I have been asked by several to recall my South Africa, in vignettes, stories, and recollections. It seems a suitable moment to offer these. Let me start with a history long before Mandela….

The Freedom of Lesotho

The Freedom of Lesotho

Before Mandela had been heard of, my grandfather Harold Jowitt, ‘Heli’ had been Director of African Education’ in Rhodesia, in Uganda,and when I knew him, Bechuanaland (Botswana) and then Basutoland (Lesotho). He spoke both Swahili and Zulu fluently. Rather than my views here is an extract from the ‘Journal of African Society. Vol 33 No 133 published in October of 1934.

Suggested Methods for the African School. By Harold Jowitt (Longmans) ( One of his books still available at a high price) The writer of this extract is not identified.

Some years ago an Inspector in Natal took the reviewer (this author) to visit a number of remote native schools. It was a very interesting experience. The Inspector was greeted with enthusiasm wherever he went. His aim was to help teachers to be better teachers and occasionally he would take charge of classes for an entire morning in order to show them how to do it. Arithmetic, writing, nature study, scripture- indeed anything on the timetable was taken just as it came, and all this was done in the native language without even a word of English. This was an Inspector after Matthew Arnold’s own heart

'Heli' The School Inspector Riding throughout Zululand in a jacket and tie!

‘Heli’ The School Inspector. Riding throughout Zululand in a jacket and tie as any respectful Inspector would!

In a much longer chapter of a book only published in 1998, the following direct quotations about Heli and from his correspondence appear.

He was an educator of imposing stature, a dynamic leader of immense popularity…an innovator willing to risk his reputation in order to try new ideas’

‘Jowitt became a fragile bridge over troubled waters…He tried to mediate the conflict between political philosophy and the reality of human existence..between African desire for a good academic education as a means of eliminating old colonial stereotypes and the colonial intent to have…cheap labour.’

‘He warned of the consequences of continuing the attitude that ‘the security of one race can be ensured by the repression of another….The Africans must not be trained by an inferior kind of education to function as better hewers of wood or draweers of water for their white masters.’

He needed the wisdom of Solomon to play colonial hide and seek.’

‘His ability to perceive what was possible in light of what was ideal gave him the balance he needed as he walked this delicate political tightrope’

‘He wrote a stinging attack- ‘ the policy of practical raining for Africans was ‘in the long run an immoral institution…because education must be universal there was no reason to practice racial discrimination’

‘Jowitt had a vision of the Africa of the future. He could not fit the system of which he was a part…He refused to subscribe the materials that were needed to build the laager.’ 

An Extract from a Book ‘The Last Defenders of the Laager:Ian D. Smith and F.W. de Klerk by Dickson A.Mungazi published in 1998…

My grandfather Heli- So named by the Buganda in Uganda and never called anything else

My grandfather Heli- So named by the Buganda in Uganda and never called anything else

Me and Heli. Roma Lesotho

Me and Heli. Roma Lesotho where he helped found the University of Botwana, Lesotho and Swaziland.

My Christmas present when I was nine. Saddled to the gate on Xmas morning

My Christmas present when I was nine. Saddled to the gate on Xmas morning

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White Water Rafting on the River Styx

Review of ‘Breathing for Two’ by Wolf Pascoe.

It would be hard to exaggerate the compelling page turning summons of this short book. Perhaps some facts will part convey it. I downloaded it at nine thirty, and it is now twelve thirty and I have not paused for breath although the whole book is about nothing else. For three hours I have been enthralled by the details of a man’s intimate relationship with himself, his patients, his career and maturation, as well as his gratitude to be the beneficiary of a few individuals’ step by step improvisation through the challenge of surgical demands upon the fellow near the head of the temporally insensible…the anaesthetist.

It does go someway to drawing a little of the limelight from the plumber and electrician beavering away on the body structure, down there near the legs or torso. The silent and stiller man is the real hero.

Is this all?
Is this all?

No doubt we have all recoiled from film renditions of battlefield surgery and amputations in the Crimea and even the trenches of France in WW1 with wood clamped in the jaws of agony, but unless we are theatre nurses, we are probably simply grateful that an-aesthetics obliterate surgical agony, and think little more about it. What this book does is convey the white water rafting ride of being the man in control of death, and therefore life.

Wolf Pascoe’s confessional analysis of his career learning-curve as Charon , the boatman ferrying the insensible patient across the Styx to death or a new life with restored health is a cliff hanging journey of how the human body’s wisdom ( and idiosyncrasies) governs the possible. As he points out, the anaesthetist is the only general practitioner now left to the field of medicine, and the only one whose job is to take a living body to the brink of extinction, but not beyond. And he has four minutes in which to make the right call if anything has been misjudged.

One comes away from reading this with an awe that anybody can do this day in and day out, and do it without anybody else to call upon ( except in emergency and not always then). He stands like God at the gossamer interface of breath and has to negotiate with the brain’s control centres, and navigate through their programme of authority. The ticking pacemaker in the Medulla which speaks to the bloodstream, about the chemical concentrations in the cells has long been the Captain of the diaphragm and lungs, and is ultimately the Navigator. The anaesthetist is afforded his permitted interruption for very short and confined stratagems. To the portrait of the hazardous emotional demands of this dialogue must be added the clarity in which both the anatomical difficulties are explained about vocal chords, oesophageal and tracheal proximity, and the judgement calls on relaxant drugs and dosages and time.

To convey so much information through the lens of the deeply personal is what makes this book so special.

This book is a gift in other ways. It offers such insight into what we take so easily for granted, surgical procedure, but more deeply it restores our gratitude for the bequests of the historical figures, like Morton that discovered ether, others that juggled with chloroform, and those like Archie Brain that dissected cadavers to design the laryngeal mask, which obviated obstruction by the tongue. One spends the book as an invited and present witness to the intricacy of balanced judgement and responsibility. One comes away with a renewed respect for the human body’s wisdom and intricacy, and an equal respect for anyone brave enough to challenge it.

Only reading of the cases that illuminate this incremental journey can convey the depth of this personal tribute to the profession of which the author is a modest thoughtful, and penetrating thinker whose origins go back to Hippocrates, Diogenes and Aristotle. . It seems that the Hippocratic Oath is still somehow alive and manifest.
For this reader that turned the fascinating into the magical

Guest Poet & Author Christy Birmingham

Guest Poet & Author Christy Birmingham.

The Tube Train — Cyril E. Power

The Undercover Soundtrack – Philippa Rees

The Undercover Soundtrack – Philippa Rees.

Gorging on Poetry

OPEN BOOK. I have been silent for months and I apologise. Soon nothing will stand between me and this clean sheet of virtual paper. Forgive a bumbling author playing publisher, and incompetently. Open Book will be my general blog about things that interest, events that occur, people I encounter and I suppose an unadulterated mirror to the world I see. It will be found here, as always.(poems ,reflections,indignations)

CARELESS TALK ( COSTS LlVES?) will be the book blog and you will find it over here

In the meantime I give you this poem posted on the Story Eating Ape’s Blog by Mark Strand and fela2fela. It expresses my recent life better than I could have done.

Eating Poetry by Mark Strand.

Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.

The librarian does not believe what she sees.
Her eyes are sad
and she walks with her hands in her dress.

The poems are gone.
The light is dim.
The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.

Their eyeballs roll,
their blond legs burn like brush.
The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.

She does not understand.
When I get on my knees and lick her hand,
she screams.

I am a new man.
I snarl at her and bark.
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.