Today’s Prompt: If you could zoom through space in the speed of light, what place would you go to right now?
The spaces we inhabit have an influence on our mood, our behavior, and even the way we move and interact with others. Enter a busy train station, and you immediately quicken your step. Step into a majestic cathedral, and you lower your voice and automatically look up. Return to your own room, and your body relaxes.
Today’s twist: organize your post around the description of a setting.
Giving your readers a clear sense of the space where your story unfolds will help them plunge deeper into your writing. Whether it’s a room, a house, a town, or something entirely different (a cave? a spaceship?), provide concrete details to set this place apart — and to create a more immersive reading experience.
It’s possible I’m wrong?
For Muslims it is considered offensive to sleep with the feet pointing to Mecca. … Hey I didn’t make the rules!
Where is God Not (retold by Nasruddin)
My beloveds, I travelled again to the village of my friend Tekka, after years away. He had become very devout in his ways, sometimes a little pompous, but still the kind soul I had loved for years.
I visited him, and we picked up our friendship as if we had never been apart.
“Nasruddin, you are a light to the eyes,” said Tekka, “Please stay with me. I insist.”
I accepted his kind invitation. He showed me my sleeping room, with a window to the east, and the bed made up. “I have arranged it so your head faces toward Mecca,” he said proudly. “You must always sleep with your head toward Mecca, out of respect for the Prophet, on whom be peace.”
My first night, I tossed and turned, and finally fell asleep. I am apparently an active sleeper, for when Tekka shook me awake the next morning, he was very agitated.
“Nasruddin, I am disappointed in you!” I looked at myself, and said, “I am often disappointed in myself, Tekka, what seems to be today’s problem?”
“You have slept with your feet toward Mecca! This is most disrespectful!”
“My apologies, Tekka, it was unintentional. I am a very active sleeper.”
Tekka was mollified, but insisted that the next night I must do better. I promised I would.
The next night resembled the first. I slept well, after some tossing and turning, but awoke to find my feet on my pillow and my head resting on the floor at the end of the sleeping mat. Just as I realized my predicament, Tekka stood in the door and clucked in concern.
“This will never do, Nasruddin. I am a good citizen and a good Muslim. You must sleep with your feet pointing the opposite way from Mecca, and your head pointing toward Mecca, out of respect for the Prophet and devotion to Allah.”
“What is your reason for insisting on this, my friend?” I asked.
“You must not point your feet toward God!” he said, and repeated it. “You must point your head toward God and your feet away from Him.”
I thought about this. We spent the day together, and that night Tekka was most emphatic. “Nasruddin,” he said, “If you cannot sleep with your head toward God, I regret to say I cannot have you in my house. It pains me to say this to an old friend, but my devotion is to Allah.”
The third night was much like the other two, except that this time I awoke with my nose pressed against the floor at the foot of the sleeping mat. It was pushed out of shape, and I was rubbing it when Tekka appeared. His face was clouded with anger and sadness.
“Before you speak, Tekka, answer me this,” I said, springing up. “Does Allah rule over everything, even the fate of men?”
“You know he does,” replied Tekka, puzzled.
“Is Allah there in every part of His creation?”
“Of course he is!”
I pointed out the window at the birds rising from the edge of the well. “Does he live in the birds of the air?”
“Yes,” said Tekka. “Why are you asking these questions?”
“Please have patience with an old friend,” I replied. “Is Allah everywhere, even across the desert and the mountains?”
“Allah is the creation. Allah is in the creation, and is the lord over the creation!” exclaimed Tekka.
“So, Tekka,” I said, holding out my feet. “Point my feet where God is not!”
It is difficult for me to pick “One place”. “What place would I go to right now”?
For expediencies sake, I will choose a Trans Atlantic flight. From North America to London, England.
I have flown a few different routes. Spokane to Minneapolis/St.Paul then on to Gatwick or Heathrow. Spokane to Denver and on. Taken off from Seattle, Vancouver, or Calgary AB. All landing at those London Airports. One time we landed in Amsterdam. Where I waited for a connection to Heathrow.
Not once were we served Camembert.
One time flying out from St.Paul, I was bumped up to first class. Where the travel is world’s apart from economy. The first thing that happens when welcoming you aboard is escort you to your seat and then offer Champagne. Around comes a cheese board and I seem to remember Camembert was on offer, then? As part of a selection. I think I declined the cheese board? However they were magnificently presented. A special cheese knife to cut the desired cheese. This was before the twin towers fiasco. Things were different then.
Senator Ruth, it seems. Is totally out of touch with the world, of most people. Her notion of extra billing to expenses for another meal because the airlines, or class of travel she uses. Serves her “ice-cold camembert and broken crackers”. Shows a disdain. It shows a disdain for us the rest of the population. Apart from Senators in the Canadian Senate. Few of us are able to bill for expenses. The sort of expenses that get reimbursed promptly. Few of us have the ability to book first class travel. Which means travel in style where the seats are like day-beds, with quiet service. The little complimentary sacks of soaps and hair care.
What does Nancy Ruth do? We are told by one unnamed Senator that we “Do not have the first clue about Parliamentary life and public life in general”?
I wonder if Ms. Ruth has the same opinion?
This same source sniffed at the auditors looking into expense claims. Going on to say, “they are bean counters and they work in a very narrow environment”. Yes they do. Thankfully for the Canadian taxpayer. For they are not counting beans but dollars. Dollars that to Senators, are about as worthless as beans.
So, here’s to Ms Ruth. Anytime I fly to Europe again, I shall be thinking of her and her extra meals, paid courtesy of the Canadian Taxpayer. Looking at her; Canada’s first openly lesbian Senator.
She has had over ten years, of the pork barrel. In that time what has she actually achieved? Not very much it seems?
The only thing I could see was; “in 2010, Nancy Ruth took credit for the Throne Speech‘s including a proposal to study changing the line of “O Canada” from “all thy sons command” to “thou dost in us command”, the original wording. Intense publicbacklash caused the Prime Minister’s Office to announce the issue had been dropped from consideration6] “.
Maybe this failure, caused her to take it out on the taxpayer? Determined to seek revenge for this slight, she is extra billing and double dipping, in some sort of fury at being rejected? Who knows? Maybe it’s none of that? Perhaps, it is just plain piggy, Like the rest of the piggies, that run government.
She has all the trappings of the well-heeled. The designer jacket and jet earrings. The progressive bifocals, a touch of lipstick underneath a grizzled countenance.
For none of us would begrudge her a decent meal, as she flies around the country putting wrongs to rights. Another meal, on top of what the taxpayer is already going to pay for. When she travels first or business class. For she is right. “Ice-cold Camembert and broken crackers”, is positively insulting, toward such an august member of the Canadian establishment?
Maybe she might have just asked a flight attendant to run that Camembert under the microwave for a few seconds? Or for some crackers that were not broken? But like a dummy she kept quiet. Then upon descending, went and scarfed down another meal, before leaving the terminal?How did it actually go Ms Ruth? Enlighten us poor sinners.
Austerity is for others, not for Canadian Senators.
We hear the angel’s trumpet, as Ms Ruth travels the highways and byways. Seeking out some other anthem injustice. It is rarefied air up there in the high-flying ethers, for sure.