I have been writing the Diaikom since 2009. Regular short stories, interviews, essays, recordings and more. All taken from life. I have met many people, listened to many people, and held countless interviews. Here, complete with faults, my collection so far. Some articles come with audio support, some without. Please enjoy that which I offer. New posts - Christmas '24.
Thank you for your interest. Nigel A. JAMES
Bruce Duncan
Sometime ago, I spoke to Bruce Duncan. A priest and a very good friend. We spoke about sermons. What is a good sermon? Why are sermons different?
A very good sermon is different. Sermons are unique. And, sermons are unique because they are totally unlike all other forms of address. Sermons must speak to everyone listening. And, the word listening is important. Listening is the only option there is.
Sermons employ no visual aids. No flip charts, no over-heads, and certainly no coloured slides. All the priest has are his words. And, words must be chosen and used with great care. Words must motivate, paint pictures, show feelings, and, most importantly, words must inspire. So, who is the priest addressing?
A church congregation is a very mixed bag. Many different levels of thinking and understanding, different ages, and, lots of different opinions. A priest must speak to them all. And, all those who listen must understand. This is not easy. Preaching a good serman requires great understanding and skill. The skill to stay simple in a very high way, and the understanding of language.
Language is very important. Everyone understands simple language. Most people not only enjoy it, they appreciate it, too. Simple language leaves very little space for misunderstanding. But, without good delivery, a sermon is no serman at all.
Delivery is voice. The priest must be well practiced and trained. Voice training is essential. Sermons are delivered in churches, and churches are normally big. The priest must be heard at the back in a very clear way. And, congregations hear all. Especially bad preperation.
Good preperation's a must. A good congregation deserves it. And, a good sermon is usually no more than 10 minutes. Length is important. 15 minutes at the outside.
The key to a very good sermon is a powerful message delivered in a very simple, very powerful way. Not too short and not too long.
Good congregations follow good priests.
Jan de Cock – A Life Behind Bars
Jan de Cock of Belgium has spent much if his life behind bars. He has gone from prison to prison. Not because of crimes he's committed, but, instead, because of his passion for good. Jan de Cock has done very much good for prisoners world wide.
Jan de Cock's involvement in prisons started more than 30 years ago. He was in Chile. Jan de Cock was working with street kids. And, getting to know street kids meant getting to know their backgrounds. These backgrounds were pittiful and hard, and, more often than not, directly or indirerectly involved prison. And so, Jan de Cock started visiting prisons. There he got to know inmates. Many were crying for help. Conditions were dire, usually inhuman. Jan de Cock had to do something.
Soon, Jan de Cock's prison visits turned into stays. Not just in Chile, but all over the world. And, Getting into prisons was not always hard. Usually a phone call, a contact, or a letter. There were places, however, where it was simply impossible. China was one case in point.
Jan de Cock was standing in the middle of Tian'anmen Square in Peking. He had an idea. Flowers. Jan de Cock started giving each guard a flower. Attached to each one was a note. Each with the same simple message. Freedom and peace. Things happened quickly. Jan de Cock was arrested, beaten up, and thrown into prison. But, Jan de Cock's success was only short lived. In fact, only 2 days. Jan de Cockwas thrown out of prison and Kicked out of China. Jan de Cock hadn't even said hi to prisoner.
Jan de Cock made many good friends behind bars. One of them was Diego. Diego had murdered a taxi driver. And, what Jan de Cock witnessed was truly amazing. Diego's victim's family visited Diego each Sunday. Diego had donated a kidney to his victim's sister. Diego had saved his victim's sister's life. A strange twist of fate.
Over the years, Jan de Cock has done very much for prisoners world wide. He has raised money for buildings and facilities, and through his books and lectures, Jan de Cock has raised international awareness for prisoner's needs and rights. And, Jan de Cock is still travelling the world.
There is good in us all. Circumstances destroy. Some of us need more help than others.
Jan de Cock – A Life Behind Bars
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Listen to Jan de Cock talking to Nigel A. JAMES
Dada – A very brief history
Dada was an intellectual movement that started in Zurich in 1916. The world was at war, and neutral Switzerland had become a refuge for artists opposed to the war. And, Zurich, with its colony of foreign free thinking intellectuals, was perfect for Dada. In the summer of 1916, Hugo Ball read his Dada manifesto in the Cabaret Voltaire in Zurich. Simply put, Dada was against everything to do with the war and against everything bourgeoisie that had led to the start of the war. And, Dada was exciting and always scurile. Dada included poetry, painting,writing, theatre and everything else imaginable, too. And, Dada hit the right note. Dada quickly spread from Zurich to the rest of the world. There were Dada movements everywhere. And, the people involved were impressive. Amongst them, Francis Picabra, Marcel Duchamp, Man Ray, Kurt Schwitters, Hannah Höch, and very many other fine individualists, too. But, Dada, in its original form, only lasted until 1922. Its reason for being had run out of steam. No war and nothing to object to. And, nowadays, Dada still lives on as a living Dada museum. There are still many Dada groups throughout the world. And, they faithfully continue to put on, perform and recite original Dada. And, the Cabaret Voltaire has become a shrine to the sacred memory of Dada and Hugo Ball. And, why not? Dada, after all, was a movement that burned with a passion of white hot feeling. Dada questioned, rejected and questioned again. Nothing was sacred, not even Dada itself. Dada's demise was due to its attempts at self-regulation and the making of rules. And, that wasn't Dada! Dada was a child of its time that sadly never grew up! And that, in a way, was Dada as well. Nj – 2016
Little Emily Clark
I heard the following story a long time ago. It's a story of miracle, luck, and good chance. A story that moved me. Something I've never forgotten.
Vienna, the summer of 1973. I was having tea with the Clarks. I was a family friend. And, the Clarks had 4 very nice children. Nicola and Roger who were 18 and 19, and Emily and Peter who were twins. And, they were still very young. In fact, only 6. And, the following story was all about Emily and Peter.
The Clarks had recently moved back to Europe from Africa. Noel Clark, the father, had worked there as foreign correspondent and was now doing the same in Vienna. And, this story I'm about to relate had taken place 4 years previously whilst the Clarks were still living in Africa.
It was a hot afternoon down in Africa. An old friend of the Clarks had dropped in for tea. A doctor from London. He was passing through on his way down to the Cape. An international medical conference in Cape Town. The doctor and the Clarks had been friends for a very many years. In fact, they had even been to school together. And, now it was afternoon teatime in Africa. Marion Clark made the tea and everyone sat down for tea. That is to say, everyone except little Emily.
Little Emily was up in her room. She was not feeling well. And, then, when the doctor enquired how little Emily was, it was Peter, Emily's twin, who spoke.
“Little Emily cries very much, she's tired all the time, she never wants to play, and, she never eats supper. And, there's one other thing, my sister looks kind of blue”. The doctor stopped eating. He was taken to Emily.
The very next morning, Emily and her mother were on the plane back to London. And, it was all thanks to Peter. In his innocent way he had accurately described the symptoms of Emily's condition. A hole in the heart. And, there at the airport in London and waiting for them was an ambulance. There wasn't much time. Speed was important.
The operation took place that very same night. It lasted more than 8 hours. And, 3 days later Emily woke up. She had come through.
And, 6 other little children were treated for the very same thing that week. Only 2 survived. Emily and one other child. Emily had been very, very lucky. She'd had a Guardian Angel. And, Emily's Guardian Angel was Peter her twin. It was Peter's innocent words that had saved Emily's life.
This is a story I've never forgotten. A doctor on his way to a conference, little Peter's innocent remarks, and a plane that was leaving. Good chance, good luck, and very good timing. All three at the very same time. A coincidence? Who knows? But, I believe there was something more. Something much higher.
And, I often wonder what happened to Emily. It was, after all, a long time ago. The afternoon we had tea in Vienna.
Alexandra Lanz - Life is the Sweetest of All
This story goes back a very long way. It's all about Alexandra Lanz. And, this is her story. Alexandra was fourteen. She was, as usual, at school. About mid morning she began feeling unwell. She got worse. And, all of a sudden she collapsed. Her liver had completely stopped working. Her condition was critical. She was taken to hospital. She was to stay there for 5 very long years.
Alexandra's stay in hospital was pain, suffering and despair. And, worst of all, time that never moved forward. Her youth was draining away. There was nothing she could do. She was stuck where she was. But, where there is life there is hope. And, where there is hope there is faith. And, Alexandra had both in great plenty. She knew she'd recover one day.
Then, one day, a light came on at the end of the tunnel. A liver transplant was agreed. The first ever in Vienna. The operation was a total success. And, from that moment on, Alexandra's life began coming back. But, it was during her operation that Alexandra Lanz experienced something not only unique, but very special, too. An out-of-body experience.
Alexandra was floating gently above and watching the surgeons below. And, this out-of-body experience was the most wonderful thing Alexandra had ever experienced. It was powerful and soft. She knew the worst was behind her. Her hope had not been in vain.
And, coming back to life meant other challenges, too. Alexandra had lost 5 years of school. There was much to catch up on. But, her hard work paid off. Alexandra finished her schooling and went on to medicine. And, then she met Harry and married.
But, another miracle was waiting for her. After her liver transplant, Alexandra was told that becoming a mother would never be possible. Again, Alexandra never lost hope. Then the impossible happened. Alexandra became the first ever liver transplantee to give birth. A wonderful son. In her darkest of times, Alexandra discovered there was a life after life, and, now she knew, too, there was a life before death.
And now, with husband and two healthy sons, she's living every minute to its full. Life is the sweetest of all.
Alexandra Lanz. She lost a few years, but never lost hope. Stronger then ever, she came back again. Dreams can sometimes come true, but faith can even move mountains. Alexandra Lanz – a woman of faith and great courage. A woman who never gave up.
Alexandra Lanz - Life is the sweetest of all.
Just last week, I had the very great pleasure of meeting Michael and Judith Basch once again. And, they told of their trip to Mongolia. And, there in Monngolia, was very much to see and admire.
There were the vast empty plains that went to horizons, there was the flora with its strength to survive the hardest of winters, there were the rivers that flowed from the mountains, and there was the uniqueness of its wonderful people as well. They understood fully the balance of nature in connection with everyday life. But, this beauty had its dark sides as well.
There were the post-communist ruins of industrial plants, the huge blocks of flats that should never have been, and, and this was the saddest of all, the many ruins of fine Buddhist temples. Communism had had no time for religion. But, then came the surprise!
And, the surprise was in the middle of nowhere and all alone on a plain. It was a beautiful Buddhist temple that miraculously had not been destroyed. And, being open, Michael and Judith Basch entered in. And, there in front of their eyes was the pendulum of time! A grandmother, her daughter, and her daughter's daughter. Three generations. And, what they were doing was not only telling, but moving as well.
The grandmother was carefully wrapping sacred books in fine silk, and, whilst doing so, gentlypatting each one and saying a prayer. Her daughter was very clearly nervous and wanted to leave. She was still feeling the terrible oppression of times that had gone. But, the granddaughter was doing exactly the same as her grandmother. Gently patting each book and saying a prayer. It was as if communism had never existed. This was the magic of belief. The pendulum had swung back again.
It was Spring when Michael and Judith Basch visited Mongolia. And, it wasn't only the flowers that were coming out again, the Mongolian soul was blossoming, too. Believing was once again free. And, that was a wonderful thing.
One day, Hansi Seiler, a good friend of mine, decided to move. He'd had enough of the view and fancied a change. And, then, after some looking, Hansi Seiler found a nice flat in a nice part of town, Vienna's 3rd district.
And so, Hansi Seiler moved flat. And, 3 months later decided to have a house-warming party. A select dinner for close drinking friends and his mother. And, the invitations went out. Now, dinner parties involve organization. Hansi made lists, borrowed chairs from his brother, and the Gasthaus where he went everyday lent him the glasses and plates. And, then the great day arrived. Hansi got up and went shopping, and his afternoon was spent making salads, peeling potatoes, putting beer and wine in the bath tub to cool, and generally doing what had to be done. And, then at 8 on the dot, we arrived. But, there was no smell of cooking and no drink to say welcome. Hansi told us to keep our coats on. We were all going out! Why, we all wanted to know! The reason was simple. The time had arrived for Hansi to put the meat in the oven and the rice on to cook. So far – so good. But, then came the surprise. It was then, 3 months after moving in, that Hansi discovered his stove didn't work. A tragedy? Not really. Hansi gave the food to his mother to freeze and off we all went to the Gasthaus. And there we stayed and had fun for the rest of the evening. Full circle again! There are places one can't get away from. But, of course, Hansi bought a new stove and was happy. But, Hansi still hasn't used it. Cooking was never for Him. But, who knows? Celebrations can sometimes come out of the blue, and, maybe, one day, Hansi will need his new stove. But, there will be a difference. Hansi's stove definitely works! But, will he know how? Which knob for this and which knob for that? And, the oven? The Gasthaus will always be better. We are, after all, creatures of habit! Hansi Seiler, a man of good heart who moved flat and tried to cook a nice meal. But, never again. The Gasthaus will always be better! Hansi and his party - An evening that was never meant to be!Listen to Andrew J. Roberts
Christian and Christa had just arrived at their hotel near the sea. Their first trip to Iceland. It was early spring, and, with the weather just right for an afternoon walk, Christian and Christa went down to beach.
But, nearing the beach, Christian and Christa found their way blocked by a fence. Why the fence? There was nothing between them, the beach, and the sea except long grass and dunes. No reason not to go on. And, with no one to stop them, Christian and Christa climbed over the fence and carried on on their way to the sea. A very short walk. But, Christian and Christa never made it. For, out of the grass came the birds. The Terns.
Aggressively crying, the Terns rose out of the grass in their thousands. Then, having reached height, turned, and diving at speed came in for the kill. The Terns were attacking in force. They were using their all, Very sharp bills and dangerously hard beating wings. Christian and Christa were where they shouldn't have been. It was time for a hasty retreat.
It was not easy. The running through sand was impossible and the Terns were relentless. Then, after protecting themselves the best that they could, Christian and Christa made it back to the fence. But, the fence meant nothing to the Terns. Rising and diving and attacking, the birds kept coming in perfect formation. And, Christian and Christa still had a fair way to go. It wasn't until Christian and Christa had almost reached their hotel that the Terns stopped attacking. But, the birds didn't retreat. They stayed. Circling above. Just to be sure.
Christian and Christa had had a very hard lesson in nature. The Terns had been brooding. And, the fence had been there there to keep people away. Terns, when brooding, are not friendly birds! The next morning, Christian and Christa went out for an Icelandic walk, But, this time, not over fences and not down to the sea.
Fences are there for two reasons. Keeping things in and keeping things out. So, don't climb fences while walking on Iceland. If, you're out, stay out, and, if you're then in stay in.
A Fence Too Far - Christian and Christa
A fence too far. Christian and Christa.
I have been writing the Diaikom since 2009. Regular short stories, interviews, essays, recordings and more. All taken from life. I have me...
