When facing danger or trouble, our ‘fight or flight’ mindset kicks in. Flight is the preferred option, so long as there is no just cause, or a lack of ability to fight. Civilians often flee from troublesome situations, such as war. Soldiers, potential or serving, sometimes flee from an unjust war, as we have recently seen in Russia.
Exceptions permitting, I visualise myself down memory lane in 1979, on yet another trip from Munich to Tehran. It’s my third ‘car delivery run’ to Iran, the previous two having been in 1976 and 1977, when ‘Shah Reza Pahlavi’ ruled Iran, and overland car imports were an organised and authorised business.
As usual, we travel in a small convoy, consisting of seven cars on this occasion. I am accompanied by two of my friends, Hans and Joe, Uli a German lady, Brendan the Englishman, and two Pakistanis, Mohamed and Ali, who own the cars. A few days into our journey we have left behind the ‘Death Road’ through the length of Yugoslavia, notoriously named for its disproportionate number of fatalities. Unlike my previous two trips, we choose to bypass Communist Bulgaria to avoid paying its exorbitant transit fee. Instead, we venture on through northern Greece to the Turkish border, where some friendly border officials welcome us wearing a predictable ’Baksheesh smile’ on their faces.
For a modest ‘donation’ we are cleared to proceed to Istanbul, where we spend the night sleeping in our cars as we do most of the nights, especially throughout Turkey, ready to fend off any thieves.
Well rested, we proceed east, embarking on an approximately five day journey to Ankara and beyond through the legendary ‘Wild Kurdistan’. To my surprise, long stretches of Turkish road, which I remember as having ‘more potholes than bitumen’ have been resurfaced and is now as smooth as a tabletop. Travelling easy, we carry several cartons of cigarettes and some small change for the kids along the Kurdish roads who are busy signaling signs of smoking or money with their hands. In response, we frequently keep slowing down and throwing them a few smokes or coins, for if we don’t, we’ll get a stone thrown through the window.
I am also familiar with all the other hazards and pleasures of the journey, such as bandits, fuel shortages and extortion at service stations, compensated for by Turkey’s breathtaking fairytale scenery, crowned with the majestic legacy of the Ararat mountains at its eastern boundary.
Unfamiliar, though not entirely unexpected, we encounter endless convoys of Iranians, their cars and roof racks packed to the max with people and their belongings. We converse with them at the rest areas only to be told repeatedly “You are mad”.
They are fleeing the revolutionary turmoil and aftermath in their homeland, going west while we are going east. Well, mad or not, we keep on moving until we eventually arrive at the Iranian border to the sight of an old campervan in the customs yard, its rear riddled with bullet holes.
It turned out the three German hippies in the driver’s cabin had failed to stop and were given a revolutionary welcome, overnight accommodation in the lock-up awaiting trial included.
We spend the night in the only and very modest hotel far and wide, where in the morning we bear witness to dodgy passport tampering to suit Ayatollah Khomeini’s newly passed import laws.
Our smuggled ware, such as western world clothing and magazines, well hidden in six of the cars, we leave one car as baksheesh to the customs officers whom we share a cup of tea with on their invitation, before we hit the road again, via Tabriz and finally, to Tehran, where a few things have changed since my last visit.
The Shah’s brutal though modernised regime has been overthrown and Khomeini’s ‘Islamic State’ is still in its infancy. In fact, the revolution is still in ‘full swing’.
Alcohol is impossible to source but the sale of hashish is almost causing an economic boom. We live it up for a while on dope and ‘chelo kabab’, when suddenly, reality hits.
Our tampered passports could land us in jail or get us executed trying to leave the country. Hans, Joe, and I end up spending a month trying to find avenues of escape from Iran, even toying with the idea of riding horses from Reza-Yeh in Iranian Kurdistan, across the border into Turkey in the stealth of night.
Our plan is foiled when the locals warn us to catch the next bus out of town before nightfall to avoid the traditional nocturnal shootings.
Back in Tehran, the transition to ‘sharia law’ is in progress, though change is not known to happen overnight. While most women are completely covered in the compulsory ‘Chador’, we spot a young lady in western attire fiercely arguing with her husband in the street. A Mullah appears from within the spectating crowd and calmly brokers a piece deal between the two. Later, another young lady passes us wearing a ‘see-through chador’, her lingerie clearly visible. Naturally, this comes as a welcome sight for the three of us young men.
Back to our passport issue, Hans and Joe decide to try their luck and venture on to the Iran/Pakistan border, which is known for its lax controls, then on to India from where they plan to fly back to Germany in time for University to resume.
I, on the other hand, have unlimited time to travel, ie. on a shoestring budget until the money runs out’. My nose points west, so I catch the ‘Magic Bus’ to Ankara for a flawless border crossing out of Iran and into Turkey. With a busload of sixty people, lady luck is smiling down, the officers can’t be bothered inspecting the passports closely, so they just stamp them and send us on our way.
A few weeks down the track on buses, ferries and hitchhiked rides which took me via Cyprus, Syria, and Jordan, I find myself in Israel working on a Kibbutz.
On the weekend I anxiously make my way to the post office in Haifa in anticipation of a ‘post restante’ letter from Hans and Joe. Before we had split up in Tehran, we promised to keep each other updated on our fate. ‘Relief’ is an understatement for what I feel as I learn they are in India, ready to embark on their homeward flight. Their exit from Iran had been relatively smooth thanks to a $20 ‘correction fee’ each.
In gratitude to our Iranian refugee friends who tried to save us from trouble saying: “You are Mad”, I ponder, were we mad? I don’t think so.
Everything we do in life comes with a risk. Thrill seekers deliberately take risks. The traveller on the other hand, accepts the risks of the journey and responds like water.
Water always finds a way. When it hits an obstacle, it moves it or flows around it. Water evaporates, condenses, or freezes. When water is trapped, it lies dormant. Once even the tiniest opening occurs, it will flow again.
Waiting for Inspiration
The festive season has faded into memory. Peace and calmness have fallen upon the land. Waiting for some inspiration for a blog’ I sit on the garden bench with my best mate ‘Shiraz’ while I watch the stars awaken in the sky as the last glimpse of sunset fades into the night, drifting off towards a ‘new tomorrow’. What tomorrow brings may be just grey, what we make of it is ours to say. This is my blog just short and swift let’s open an empty page and glide adrift.
The Messiah
The current global-political landscape provides the perfect breeding and feeding ground for doomsday prophets who keep popping up like mushrooms.
There’s the stereotypical religious, political, or cultural Guru preaching crap, who charges his followers a fee, monetary or in kind, for the forgiveness of their sins to finance the commitment of his own sins.
False Messiahs of various appearances, convictions, and calibres, representing disturbing world views, dominate the global theatre. They fill stadiums and public places with gullible people who walk alone as they leave the venue with empty wallets and fractured souls.
Distant from all their hype and fanfare, I will this month celebrate the birth of the true and only Messiah, whose followers never walk alone.
His name is Jesus Christ.
“Merry Christmas”
Alias goes Shopping
Alias surfs the shelves at the supermarket. He brushes past the health food section which is packed with an array of ‘plus priced’ ‘minus’ products, disguised as healthy merchandise, apparently free of harmful ingredients. Confused and exhausted, he struggles to tell the difference between substances like glucose, lactose, or pantyhose. Some products are complete, presumably super healthy, yet tasteless substitutes, except the pantyhose, which is a bit hard to make from soya beans.
Next, Alias plans an excursion for tomorrow. Before he shops for a day tour, he surfs the internet for the weather forecast and finds; the ‘climate change activists’ are predicting apocalyptical storms with severe flooding in unbearable heat. Some optimists predict blue skies and sunshine with a pleasant afternoon breeze.
In two minds about his travel plans, Alias checks with the realists, who say: “we will let you know tomorrow evening”.
A few days later, Alias decides to clean his house. He searches the textile section at the supermarket for some absorbent wipes to clean all the chairs, when he spots a ‘sit and clean’ jumpsuit. The instructions say: just sit on the chair, watch something exciting on TV that makes you wiggle around frantically, and your chair will be spotless in record time.
Job done and irritated by a dirty, itching jumpsuit, he takes it off and throws it into the washing machine, when he realizes that he is out of washing detergent. It’s ‘back to the shops’ for him, namely the ‘cleaning and toiletries’ aisle where he is confronted by a seemingly endless shelf of bottles and buckets. In search of the appropriate product, he reads label after label. Soon he finds himself overwhelmed with information such as:
Divine Blends; Kinder to The Planet; Bigger Size; Greater Value; Trusted Brand; Award winning product; etc. Fortunately, Alias also reads the very fine print which reveals the nature of the products, such as shampoo, body wash, floor cleaner etc. and he finally scores a winner, namely ‘washing detergent’.
Low on cash and Christmas around the corner, Alias decides to do some contract work as Santa. In the fancy dress shop he easily finds a fitting costume since the padding is very adjustable.
Santa’s ‘black book’ however, is no longer available because it degrades kids. Apparently, everyone (except Alias) knows that children should only be praised, never criticised.
Nevertheless, Alias steps into Santa’s boots and does a marvelous job. During the Festive Season, ‘Santa Alias’ over-indulges on rich cuisine and dies of a cardiac arrest.
At heaven’s gate he passes a COVID test but fails the alcohol test. Intoxicated applicants are nothing new to St. Peter, who himself likes to savor a glass of blessed wine. He goes easy on Alias, admits him but requires him to earn his stay in ‘Hotel Heaven’. The task Alias needs to perform seems simple. All he has to do is deliver a letter from God to the Australian Government.
So, a fraction of eternity later, Angel Alias flies through the clouds down to earth, flapping his heavenly wings gently, when he spots his old local pub. Weary of eating the ‘Manna’ and drinking blessed wine, he descents for a pie and a pint of Larger. True to the saying; “one beer is never enough”, he orders another, and another, and another, forgetting about the heavenly letter. Hence the Australian Government, to this day, is still waiting for some divine guidance.
Empower yourself
There’s much talk, campaigning and lecturing happening trying to empower individuals or groups of people, such as certain ethnic, racial, or other disadvantaged categories.
In reality, no-one can empower you.
Others may give you advice or provide guidance, but only you can truly empower yourself. This is the point where most people hit a hurdle they don’t want to jump. We live in a ‘gimme’ era where people expect others to do things, including thinking, for them, rather than ‘get off their arses and fend for themselves. Widespread charity abuse is a fitting example of this phenomena.
Self-empowerment calls for responsibility and action, primarily based on ‘self-thought’. It constitutes an attitude which evolves into a conviction. It means taking charge of your life and destiny, i.e., making your own decisions within the rule of moral law.
Democracy constitutes that “Non shall rule over another”, while some powers are granted conditionally to the elected for a nominated term. The ‘elected’ are not our rulers or superiors, but our employees. The self-empowered recognise this fact and cultivate freedom as a core value.
If people cherished freedom more than their own ego, we would live in a better world. The ego is a self-imposed disempowerment . “Dictators take note”!
The self-empowered are immune to threats and intimidation, knowing they are nothing but a loser’s desperate screams for attention, and that danger lurks from the ‘wolf in the sheepskin’.
The self-empowered don’t despair, but rather adapt to altered circumstances.
They fall neither into the ‘Bully trap’ nor the ‘Dictator trap’.
When Pontius Pilatus told Jesus; “I have your life in my hands”, Jesus replied: “You have nothing in your hands, and the powers you have come to you from far beyond”.
Here is a gateway to a free, empowered mind: Speak truthfully and act with integrity. Some will ignore you others will accuse you of doing the opposite. Remain calm and don’t take offence.
Be vigilant and question the world around you.
If you are unsatisfied with your findings; Take action, voice your opinion, protest and/or fight if, and when necessary.
Learn from the past but don’t dwell on it.
Live in the present and capture the moment.
Care for the future but don’t worry or stress about it.
Don’t abuse your powers.
A bold statement of Currency
We are experiencing a pandemic of self-proclaimed, often fake titles and credentials. False images are popular, while the truth is ignored.
A wise man once said: “the soil is very poor, a breeding ground for idiots”. In repetition of this, we now live in an era where low quality entertainment and the instant gratification of our most primitive desires takes priority.
People don’t learn from history because they are not interested in history. The same goes for other ‘general education’ faculties. Few people can point their location on a map. Quiz show participants and American presidents are well known to fail on geography.
People reach for mentally crippling, aggression provoking drugs while the ‘new age hangmen’ are polishing their old nooses, wearing a smile on their faces.
The news presents us with long episodes, showing the crying faces of victims of crime, but no solution. To add insult to injury, the villains escape with impunity or lenient sentences, free to re-commit, creating fear and anxiety in the community. Fear mongering, be it irresponsible or deliberate, is rife, creating mental illness.
Throughout the ages, those in power have always been habitually encouraging the working class to keep breeding cheap labour and cannon-fodder; little has changed.
Preachers and creators with small congregations are often those who don’t sell themselves out to populism, fame and potential scandalism. Stupidity goes viral on social media. Con artists always had, and still have, large followings. The sincere remain un-noticed. The question is, why don’t people want to experience the real world in all its fullness, grandeur, and glory?
We are experiencing an era of highjacked spirituality, operating as a commercialised, indoctrinated pseudo spirituality, as well as a lack of, or the complete absence of spirituality.
The world is in need of a spiritual renaissance, a revival of our spiritual senses and the dawning of a culture of content vigilance.
Chapter One of My Books Now Available For Free
I have been meaning to make Chapter One of my books more widely available and now I have finally organised it and gotten it done.
Chapter One of “Journey of Life” and “Real, Bold, Simple” are now available and completely free.
Download your copies here!
Real, Bold, Simple – Chapter One
Please enjoy these free chapters and if you like what you read the books are available for purchase from the website.
Join and drop out
Recently I was watching a Q&A show, when one of the panellists said: ”Complacency is Australia’s number one national sport”. With 64 years of frontline life experience under my belt, I couldn’t agree more, plus I’d like to add, “on par with procrastination”.
Those who verbally intend to engage in some activity like joining a club, school, or association, are many. Few actually put their words into action, and even more expect quick results for little or no effort. One of my previous Taekwondo students’ father once called me, complaining that our self-defence training was insufficient, after his daughter was assaulted at school by another girl. The matter was resolved quickly, when I pointed out that his daughter had missed 95% of her training sessions.
Facing reality, many drop out at different stages of progress, in fact, most of them do so at an early stage. Throughout the thirty years I have taught Martial Arts, I have heard every excuse under the sun. To begin with, there is no excuse or reason. They just don’t turn up anymore, sometimes owing several months of fees. Then there is this popular line every teacher or coach is very familiar with; “I am dropping out to do football, tennis, dancing, music”, or any other ‘something else’ which never materialises into anything more than 1 or 2 trial lessons, if at all. Then they tell their football, tennis, dancing, music, or ‘something else’ instructor; “I am dropping out to do martial arts etc!
Once, a student, who was known for his low attendance told me “I want to be ‘top notch’ in martial arts, but I am dropping out” – “what the f…???”, please explain.
Another classic drop-out is the ‘movie-inspired’ teenage boy, soon to be hero, who misses most the classes, lacks effort at training, then quits, intending to join the TRG or SAS. Time passing, you bump into him by chance, and learn he hasn’t done anything, nor is he presently ‘really doing’ anything. Triggering a call from the past, this reminds me of my teenage years when I was going to be an Astronaut, but at least I found and pursued various alternative paths.
Here is another common excuse, “I am devastated because I don’t have the time/money to attend classes”, followed soon after, by Facebook posts showing them ‘living it up in luxury’. My advice is be honest with yourself and others. If you are really that devastated, you will do something about the situation you are in. Try willpower, a learned and cultivated mental strength that provides the starting block for all your endeavours.
Alias the Original
Alias takes a break from stepping into other people’s shoes. His ‘original self’ strolls through the streets and parks, wearing his old runners, which have passed the test of time. He breathes easy in meditation, trying to clear his mind from all the hype and confusion of recent months when, un-intentionally, his mind’s eye captures memory flashes of fear and panic. Repeated, worrying news articles flicker on and off, such as: ‘The new Russian secret weapon the world should be afraid of’. ‘The whole world should be worried about the invincible Chinese Navy’. ‘Scary, catastrophic climatic disasters are imminent’. ‘Terrifying discovery on Mars’. As though this wasn’t enough, there comes a ‘chilling’ outburst by ‘Puterasputin’ the crazy Russian garden gnome, threatening chemical world war by the smoke from his ‘Bong’. Alias can imagine how all this anxiety promotion wouldn’t go down well with the mental health campaign. Resting on a park bench, he notices some welcome rain clouds appearing in the distance, signaling the end of a drought. Peacefully, he doses off until some soothing warm raindrops inspire him to savour the balance of nature, in this case, wet and dry. While still immersed in nature’s tranquility, he suddenly remembers another warning he recently saw on the news that said: There will be a ‘Climate Armageddon’ before 2050. Alias knows that Armageddon refers to a prophesised, final military battle on the plain of Armageddon, (northern Israel) un-related to the climate. Obviously, the authors of this ‘present day prophesy’ haven’t done their homework and perhaps, together with all the other scare-mongers, they shouldn’t be taken seriously. Relieved, Alias decides to view the world on his own analyses, distant from rumours, speculations, and baseless predictions. He liberates his mind from all projected shock, fear, and worry, as he dances down the road under his ‘Mary Poppins’ umbrella, singing: “Don’t worry, be happy”.
Ooh Arthritis! What art thou doing?
Autumn is in full swing (in the southern hemisphere), cold wind ‘blows through the bones’. My joints keep reminding me of their state of deterioration. In a surreal realm, near total absence of sensory perception, my muscles contract to the density of concrete, blocking every lifeline to the brain, causing it to dwell in disinterest and vanity.
Pain and discomfort sabotages all attempts on inspiration. Dull and numbed, I can’t think of any topic to write about, so I thought; why not post a few lines on the topic of the moment, namely Arthritis?
The range of ‘wonder products’ for the cure or relief of Arthritis appears to be infinite, as well as mostly in-effective. I volunteer to wash the dishes because the warm water sooths the hands and wrists. A few awkward movements at work and sport have knocked my back into ‘Hexenschuss’ (Lumbago). A blend of massage’, physiotherapy and medication, makes life more bearable and it’s beauty more conceivable. Experts tell me to keep moving and taking medication, which leads me to the conclusion that I am condemned to a life of hard work and red wine, “Talking about keeping the yin-yang balanced”!