Mystics & Critics

Listen nah!

https://m.youtube.com/#/watch?v=1SiylvmFI_8

Eh? 1-(C)critics=(M)mystics. I may have discovered a formula or reconfigured a setting for life. Ta da!
Let me explain. The soul of many a man left the body when the body consumed much pressure. Go back in time and you will begin to realize. The critics are real. They do not leave a void for pressure production is their target. If you dare to ask me, I will say try to revisit history, those moments in time,
*when unions and power revolutions rallied for a common cause,
*when the nickname 'dunce' was the dancing tune,
*when structures given to the environment underwent corruption surgery.
The result of critics was mystics. The soul left the body. Surgery resulted in death because we mis-diagnosed, so we mis-treated. True dat talk. Has history been kind to our country leaders? While diverse tails wag, we are all part of our country's history as difficult as it is for tongues to confess. To be a judge is a big deal for me for I do not like engaging in the creation of mystics. I think that is a job for the universal creator. The mystical perhaps merge to unfold future mysteries, that which we ponder upon, the good-luck, that which the land has been blessed with thus far.
And so I continue to write, encouraged once upon a time by your words of hope and by your acts of dignity, honesty and perseverance. History has judged you harshly and yet you came clean without any marks of blemish. Wherever you go, may the angels watch over you as you bless this land, in life as in death, for you were truly a 'remarkable' man, and many in the generations to come, will be proud to know that you were once, twice, three times a beloved Prime Minister. It's in your legacy! To the members of the immediate family, my condolences, if you should ever read this blog.
In memory of an honorable man (1946-2016)

Happy Father's Day 2016

Precious memories, how they linger, how they ever cross my soul. That is song #1 on my top chart. And the other is from my favorite singer Celine, who sings 'wherever you are, you open the door, and I believe my heart will go on'
Music and food on the number-line, how many times it's played or not played and how many times we had it or passed it off, connect the dots for a box-plot. It either rolls me forwards, backwards or sideways. Sunday is fathers day, just like it was in the years gone by. I said my good-byes & I bid my farewell many a times til that last farewell in 2013. It wasn't like those creamy pumpkin soup events I knew I ought to have skipped. To celebrate father's day, I'd been invited out to surprising menus like creamy pumpkin soup. Please! I knew the classic pumpkin soup at home was a more healthy choice if only I made it then. To make that classic pumpkin soup, I had to learn first to unlearn. Adding cream always looks good, smells good, tastes good, but what is good on the outside, is it always good on the inside?! My choices were subject to the external stimuli. I could make my own decisions but choices sometimes seem to be an obligated duty. Mind you, I was never fed creamy pumpkin soup on father's day at work. I guess mercy pleaded for me & I was very fortunate then in those latter years, not to have been called to work on father's day. As though we were blessed with this time granted in our favor by a supreme force, it seemed like time was not ours. Such were the effects of the external stimuli when sensitivity wasn't always ready. So we shall not ponder on it as he who dwells on negativism breeds negativism, whereas he who dwells in the house of God lives forever, so Hi-5 to all the fathers who work on father's day! Classic pumpkin soup is definitely a healthier preference to the creamy pumpkin soup since the heart must go on. From the transcendental dialectic to the analytic therefore, there's no real roots that's rational enough for a transcendental equation?
(In loving memory of my father, November 2013)

Acts Of Love vs The Economics Of Love 

(The Resurrection of an extra-ordinary brother)



So tell me, when last did you do an act of love?

Everyday, I try to do it for the living and the dead. Yes, by writing this blog, it is an act of love for my dearly beloved extra-ordinary brother who has passed on.

I tell you truly, this blog begins with a prayer

~ O My God, I love you above all things, in my heart and in my soul. I love my neighbor as myself. I forgive those who have injured me and ask pardon for those whom I have injured~

Heaven must have called his name in 2014! He was the eldest of three siblings, born with physical and mental challenges to an extended family environment not without 'resource-trap' challenges. Yet, I remember his distinctive capability and capacity to love. 

Each morning, he would obediently walk to school. Autism, attention deficit disorder, down syndrome with distinguished physical outlook, characterized him and led to his lack of interest and early drop-out.

This early drop-out enabled him to freely work voluntarily for all other members of his family. It's also 'the struggle' according to his earthly mother. Within this struggle or 'straddling years' as I coin it, he'd become everyone's playmate. To those integrated within his networks, #cucumberlady #porkman #beefman #watchman #tallboy #shoemaker #blueboy #lassytruck #tailorman & so many others whom I cannot recall, there was an unforgettable bond. Not a day passes by without a shout-out from his comrades, his associates in the business of commerce.  To me his younger sister, he tried to be protective (in his early life) even though ironically, he needed protection (more in his later life). I say this, in memory of our childhood days within our garden, when an insect would suddenly appear out of nowhere and while my sibling ran, I stood and screamed. This extra-ordinary brother stayed with me, held my hand and led me out of the garden into safety indoors. An act of love!

There were days when he was my babysitter, when life demanded more time from our parents. Like silly kids, we saw him as the ugly duckling, from public comments like long-chin. We sometimes mischievously hid his toy ie a bunch of keys. While he did frantic searches and screams, he would be scolded by our parents for screaming and we would foolishly giggle & grin. This extraordinary human brother baptised with innocence was born without malice, evil or ill-will for he never knew how to get even, the way the ordinary human was gifted! Counting on, in the early days of business, life was difficult and even moreso for an eldest child of immigrant parents, having been born mentally and physically disabled, creating ever increasing parental challenges. Working for Maslow's low level needs of food and shelter, everyone was able to benefit from his spirit of co-operation for hard work. Daily, he fed the chickens & the ducks so families can have a meal. Daily living meant filling bags of salt, sugar, rice and flour for mum and dad to weigh and package aside for when shop re-opens the next day. Nightly living meant re-packing the refridgerators with bottles of beers, sodas and packets of milk and juices. Sundays meant cleaning from inside to the outside of even the public urinal. All the while, everyone else attended school with lessons, home-work and minor chores after school hours. No one was given the luxury of extra-curricular activities due to limitations of resource availability, prioritizing and the notion of equal opportunity for all family members.
My line of focus now shifts from the 'acts of love' to the 'economics of love'.
These simple sacrificial acts of love given and received by him was all-inclusive. Most people who crossed his path accepted him for who he was. Moreso, opportunity cost and savings resulted from his innate desire to serve. He was happy to give and to serve and he was indeed an architect of this contagion of happiness, visible through his network. His challenges opened opportunities for family members. Through wage savings, cost benefits realized profits, thus breaking grounds to enable a crossover into the halls of professional lives.
There were no changes to the price of his love! The quantity demanded of his love varied with different folks and if a small percentage unfamiliar may have looked with indifference, the price of his love created win-win for family and community. Most folks within the community knew him then, and the price elasticity of his love was perfectly elastic. This price level was not measured monetarily since it remained the basic needs of food and shelter, by whomsoever would take him as his own. Whatever you gave him to eat or wear, he never complained. He grew up under a huge hot galvanized shed once owned and used by the Portuguese as a shop and an abode, as best as I can describe those initial living conditions. The condition was humbly Christ-like, in that whatsoever you did for my brothers, you did for me!
Changes came naturally with time. The transformation came through cultural changes in adopting and fusing eastern and western values. The gradual disintegration from extended family to nuclear family settings created scenes of division and brought on even greater mental health challenges for him as an individual as he grew in self-awareness of his own limitations and dependency syndrome.
I do not beg to differ with the theory of the indifference curve and it's practicality with the budget constraint. Each family member would have different levels of satisfaction according to utilitarianism. And, the welfare of the society is dependent on the strength of each family's output, as they too, seek to spread their wings, for generations to come!

Upon his death, we do not to seek to judge, but the song "I will serve you" from 'Missionaries Of The Poor', a collection of songs by Fr Richard Ho Lung, was played most appropriately at his funeral to his memory and in his honor.

The manager qualities

MY DADDY

Imagine a little boy leaving the comforts of his hometown in the heights of World War II during communism to join his parents to help raise his siblings within a community so disparately different and then by God's grace his own family. I remember ...his smiling face, his love for birds and fishes, his deep love for everyone. I remember ...his loud voice on the phone with friends family & neighbours. I remember ...him working very hard and making sacrifices I remember ...him taking us to church I remember ...him as a faithful and obedient son. Now to bring a long story to a quick end, he lived a simple life from humble beginnings to a happy ending! I can go on to describe the best of my father but time doesn't permit, nor does the fit of superior teachings with that of his inferior life. For how can I describe him as visionary when he wasn't perhaps quite as in my most honest opinion, he otherwise might have been filthy rich and I would have been a 'spoilt brat' So the simplest explanation of his visionary life was that his family should be educated because the government in those days instilled education as a way out of poverty. He was no astute businessman, he worked for the extended rather than a nuclear family as dictated by the cultural norms of his times. He had no worldly ambitions, for as bold as I am to daresay he never had the Caribbean spirit to be a Caribbean man for he never had eyes for common women other than my mother, the uncommon woman. So in this sense, he was pragmatic. An exemplar of hard-work and I cant think of anyone he'd have coached to be as hard-working other than my special extra-ordinary brother who also passed on from this life. This will be my next blog. Hope you enjoy reading about my past as much I did enjoy writing!

The Euphoria Of The Media

What is this? Whaaaat? Not I says the media!! Right or wrong? You the readers, tonight you form a jury. This blog occurs so co-incidentally with the changing of "PNM Abroad" on Facebook to "Speak Out Trinidad & Tobago" that it must have been some divine revelation, yes?   Let your voices be heard ! WHY? WHY? WHY? Well, the recent outbursts from Minister Anil about Anika Gumbs-Sandiford's article about the need to investigate if she drives a Honda car, lives in the East, travels to Miami to buy shoes, did take many by surprise. This was backed by the Prime Minister's revelations that there are rogue elements in the media.   Ask if there are any truths to the statements and the voices of MATT seemingly blend in a silent chorus. One editor opted to remain silent and speak only through the company's lawyers and this may be due process.  Still, should we not speak out Trinidad & Tobago?  Is it that the theory of games in the prisoner's dilemma, has superseded MATT's position of an attack on press freedom? Is it that journalists now view attack as a norm? Silence means consent, an act of co-operation, so that in so doing, journalists are perhaps subscribing to the the gains from cheating today that must outweigh the credible promises minus the credible threats of tomorrow. While I am not fully aware of the current wages of journalists by industry standards, the threat of defamation is so surreal. The T&T constitution is in a state of reform or amendment as they say, whereas in the US constitution through a Bill Of Rights, Shield Law exists, to protect journalists from revealing sources of information or disclosing personal information.  Our sovereignty is volatile, isn't it? 

Cupid strikes!

It is the day after Valentine's Day! Happy Belated Valentine to all. Better late than never when Cupid strikes, because love is patient and kind. Because I crave humor & happiness, I must share a heartful of this creation to all my readers wherever you are in this global Internet space.  I begin with the end in mind, my hopeless youthful creative space of: When I was a child, the sight of police or strangers instilled in me a feeling of fear because I didn't know what to say to them or what they would say to me. When I was a child, the smell of cane was as sweet as a chocolate or rose. When I was a child, I knew that the word 'cock-set' meant smoky fumes to prevent a mosquito from biting me.  When I was a child, I knew cricket was 'bat and ball'. When I was a child, I  met with many friends everywhere and played many games and sang many songs, but I didn't know the words Internet and computer. When I was a child, I knew the word Christmas and what it meant. When I was a child, I never knew the word 'Valentine' much less it's meaning. Now that I am not a child, I know differently.  I know as an adult, that the police is meant to be everywhere and stranger is derived from the word 'strange'  I know as an adult, I no longer smell the sweet scent of cane. I know as an adult, the double meaning of 'cock-set', haha! I know as an adult, cricket is an escape to stardom for many so destined. I know as an adult, I play games only on a computer and the Internet can sing songs for me. But what a bonus! As an adult, I know two words 'Christmas and Valentine', and that they both convey the messages of peace and love. Bravo!  And wait, Valentine is not just for lovers. It is a time of giving, as symbolic as Christmas is to giving gifts to loved ones or to charity. Cupid strikes at the heart of every deal. The relationship deal between parent and child, the sibling deal amongst siblings, the networks of peer-to-peer deal, and of course, also in the corporate world, where the employee can engage the boss in a futures contract to cement that employer-employee bond. As visionary as I dare to be, time is my deciding factor as trust bonds may have been broken in unsettled disputes. The day will come when barriers to formal structures will be removed and bosses can freely treat a more favored employee to a Valentine lunch or Valentine gift, thus engaging beyond the veil of ignorance to uplift and produce more freely.  To the owners this blog, my intent is never to plagiarise, but to uplift in every sphere, whether the intent is to help market a university by generating interest on a said topic or simply to pursue my self-inspired personal ambition to become an author. It is a simple cause for the common good on common grounds that I presume we all share. Knowledge is of no use if it cannot be shared. It is often said that 'trouble shared is trouble halved and joy shared is joy doubled'. This is the beginning of greater expectations in the years that lie ahead. O what a joy it is to have a Valentine! 

Towards Independence

As Trinidad & Tobago approaches the 50th anniversary of her independence, it's a time when senses revocate &/or reunite.
This nation's independence was seen through the kaleidoscope of Dr Eric Eustace Williams whose colorful light rays diffused and refracted amongst a mixed population of young and old.
Our Independence dared the sense of hearing and seeing on 31st August 1962 with a ceremony that marked the lowering of the Union Jack and the hoisting up of a national flag, red white and black. Red represents the vitality of the land and it's people. White symbolizes water and the purity of our aspirations. Black is the earth surrounded by water. 
History had begun the right to write through colours of every creed and race with a newly idolized sense of feel when a new preacher roared to the delight of its mass populis, 'massa day done'
Yet from Grande Anse Declaration, the Treaty Of  Chaguaramas was born in 1973. Years later in 2010, came the Maritime Treaty with Grenada! 
Today, the audacity of hope still resides in me as I rejuvenate those moments 'the significant meaning of my country's flag'.
What did it mean then for those who were there? What does it mean now for the youth in the land of my birth? What will it mean for the significant others, the unborn, the future generations?
http://id-id.facebook.com/notes/team-unc-cop/opposition-leader-ca...ada/112441685456082 comment_id=296570&offset=0&total_comments=13
I cannot speak for those without a voice. I speak that you may heed the voice of the one greater than you, the one who sent you, the one that guides your thoughts so that you will be remembered now, forever and always. 
With boundless faith in our destiny, the future rests upon our common understanding for greater tolerance. We do not stand in isolation, as a nation that is truly independent in thought and deed. We have one aspiration which is equality and fairplay for every creed and race. Our voices blend in a unique chorus with our Caribbean counterparts as we stand side by side our islands in times of perseverance or persecution. We remain true to the ideals of Caribbean unity blessed by the Caribbean spirit of collaboration, to beckon a regional force in a global village where solid barriers to protection of Caribbean beliefs will form the nurturing grounds for the unborn.
It is with hope that the legacy of Independence will taste sweeter tomorrow than yesterday or today for the unborn.