'What a f***ing idiot!' and other rogue thoughts in this otherwise peace-loving, joyous mindscape of mine...

Okay, what I'm about to write feels more like a confession than an observation of my self.  What's the difference?

Bear with me while I think this through.

I think a confession is more like admitting that I'm wrong or less than scintillatingly wonderful.  Self-observation, on the other hand, is merely looking at myself without judging whether I'm right or wrong, good or bad etc.

Also, for me, self-observation serves many useful purposes, one of which is prompting me to ask myself:  Now was that useful?  And if not, what can I do instead?

BTW, I measure 'usefulness' in terms of whether and to what degree something allows my natural spirit of joy, peace and freedom to express itself.

Now that I've laid the ground for this post (oh, for cryin' out loud TB, get on with it, wiilya!), let me tell you exactly what bombshell I'm about to drop on the calm ground that I've just laid.

Mmm,...oh dear...this is rather embarrassing...but, oh heck, let me just say it straight out:

Lately, I've noticed I have commentary going on in my head that is less than kind or gracious.

For instance, the other day, when I heard the sudden sickening sound of a car burning rubber while I was working on my laptop, the thought, "What a f*#$ing idiot' sprang into my mind instantly.

There it was - silent, looming large and peering at me gleefully - as if it had always been there but, he he, this dim-eyed dreamer i.e. moi had only just noticed it.

I'm not sure which is more disconcerting - the thought itself or the feeling that it had always been there, somewhere in this mind of mine, one which I have been consciously trying to keep peaceful and loving and non-judgmental.  You know?

Now, you might be thinking:

Oh, for chrissakes TB, haven't you outgrown your christening gown?  So you've been cussin' and swearin' in your head.  BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGGGGGG B*OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODY DEAL!!!!!!!!  Worse things have been known to happen, you know.

Actually, you've been guilty of worse things, surely???  Like plotting revenge (or actually taking it) or putting on the sulk and scowl or not paying your rent on time or making pathetic excuses for not wanting to be in someone's company or... we could go on....do you want us to???

OK, you're right.  It's not the worse thing that I've done.  Not by far.  But, the thing is, WHY???

Why am I having these expletive-loaded thoughts (when I don't even use them in speech) and how the f*** do they manifest so instantly???  I mean, these days, I notice they're provoked by much less disturbing (ordinary and innocuous) incidents.  Like when I see women with extra weight on them.  This is really awful and I truly do not wish to offend anyone here so

WARNING - PLEASE STOP READING NOW IF YOU THINK YOU MIGHT BE OFFENDED

Thoughts like' You're too f**ing fat', 'You gotta lose some of that, you fat slob' scroll through my mind. 

WHAT????

Seriously, if you've ignored the warning and read this far then I would urge you to CONTINUE READING because I am trying to understand this phenomenon (not encourage, promote, excuse or trivialize it), trusting, that as always, you'll be able to shed some light.

That this kind of thinking happens in my head is something I feel deserves some interrogation. If you ever met me or spoke to me, I'm pretty confident you'll find that I'm kind, loving, humorous, full of smiles and really into people.

I meditate everyday during which time I consciously open my heart and mind to the beauty and greatness and goodness of people and the things around me.

But alongside this typically peaceful, optimistic, people-loving person that I've learned to become there is this dark, almost comic aspect that rears its distasteful head (albeit in my head) every now and again.

And it doesn't just happen with strangers either.  It even happens when I think about my kids or when I'm with my friends like J and L and the other J.

'Who the f*** does he think he is???  He hasn't even kept up with the Science like I have but he f***ing thinks he knows f***ing everything'.

I hope you don't get the impression that this happens all the time.  It doesn't.  And it's because it's so infrequent that I actually do notice it :)

Neither do the thoughts last.  They are fleeting.  Rogues that appear and disappear so rapidly, you'd hardly have blinked in the time.

I also want to say that although these thoughts spring into my mind, the feelings I experience at the time do not match them at all.  Rather, they are mostly of warmth, affection and connectedness.

I mean, if those strangers or friends were to start speaking to me at the time of these desecrating thoughts, I'd almost certainly respond kindly, lovingly and joyously.  And I would be completely sincere.  No two ways about that, I can assure you.

So, there you have it.  My 'confession'.  And although I'm thinking of it as a confession, I really am not too disturbed about it and that's because I know that I really don't believe those things that these freak thoughts reflect.

No, that's not entirely true.  I am certain I do believe them to some degree though I may not always agree with them. And that's an important thing to note.

AND  I know that they do not determine or reflect MY INTENTIONS around the person which are ALWAYS AND UNCOMPROMISINGLY KIND AND LOVING AND WELL-MEANING :).  Of that you can be certain.

Anyway, I've said it now and I can't wait to read what you have to say.  Let me know?  Please pretty please????

PS  It's entirely possible these thoughts are directed at myself (even though they contradict the evidence/facts)... ;)

No, this is not 'fess up' time, but have you noticed similar things about yourself too?

There are at least ten topics that I could be writing about right now and just so I don't forget what they are, I'm going to list them here.  Expect them to turn up as posts sooner or later.  With proper titles.

1. I hear you...
2. I can tell you like beautiful things...
3. What a f*#@*ing idiot...
4. I'm jealous...
5. The bigger the dream, the scarier...
6. I'm a serial blogger...
7. We had a crush on each other but didn't know it
8. So much talent and so little time...or is that intent...?
9. How to pre-program a wet dream and why you'd want to (she can't be serious???)...
10. Ten observations

This post is about #10.  (Note how clever I was to make it the last on my list because it was the one I was least likely to forget?)

So, here's the context.  I've observed certain things about myself (You wouldn't have guessed??? Oh, shucks, now you're making me blush...) and I wonder, as I'm prone to do, if you've observed them about yourself too. 

I'll try to be pithy though sadly, pithiness is not one of my fortes as I'm sure you'll have noticed.  But to make your reading of this as painless as I possibly can, I'll list my self-observations and elaborate only when necessary and as briefly as possible ('Elaborate briefly' ???  Spouting oxymorons unwittingly does happen to be one of my fortes)

Right, here goes:

#1 When I say 'I can't' it's nearly always to hide the truth from others (and myself) that 'I really don't want to' or that 'I don't want to enough' (Do you need me to elaborate?)

#2  I'm often so busy reacting against something that I forget to stop and ask myself 'What would I really like instead?'
If I did the latter more often and more quickly (in other words, if I were a little more present to myself and my inner thoughts and feelings), I'd cut down my moment-to-moment discomforts by at least 90%.

For instance, I've realized that, if,  instead of trying to ignore the ache in my back (from sitting too long at my laptop), I remembered to ask myself how I would like to feel, I'd more quickly get up and move and stretch or lie down and do some yoga asanas, not reactively but calmly, lovingly and enjoyably!  I've realized that 'ignoring' is a passive way of resisting a situation.

#3  I feel a need to be precise about what I say in response to someone's remark or observation about me.
This is not so much about correcting them (or is it?) as it is about sharing (more) accurate information, information as I know and experience it.  After all, this is about myself.

#4  Taking the time to calm myself (when I've been mildly disturbed by my dog from whatever I'm doing) and saying sincerely in a gentle voice and with a smile, 'I love you' to my dog has a wonderfully soothing effect on me.  I've noticed it seems to immediately pacify her too.  I suspect this would work nicely on humans too.

#5  I've started justifying killing flies (one fly in my unit is one fly too many) by telling them before I commit the deed that I'm fulfilling their desire to quit this joint and hasten their rebirth into whatever form of life they desire,  Yes, it's important to me that I do everything with a good intent. 

Height of self-delusion, you think?

#6  Giving myself mini breaks from whatever I'm doing (especially when I'm working on my laptop) by just lying still, or making small, gentle movements, or breathing slowly and deeply or taking my dog out to do her toilet or cooking is a great way of de-cluttering my mind and allowing fresh thoughts to waft in.

#7  Asking myself often, 'What do I really want right now?' is like unclogging a blocked, stressed drain (like a blocked, stressed, uncreative mind).  It allows the free, unlimited flow of fresh ideas, true desires and wild imagination.

#8  Acknowledging things about myself that I find painfully embarrassing or frightening just creates an opportunity for me to move on, to actually know that it was a thing of the past and here I am, free to be and do whatever I choose.  I really do not have to avoid my history which is probably the surest way of repeating it!

#9  I'm less interested in details, especially sordid ones, about other people's lives but far more interested in their thoughts and feelings.  I realize that this matches my disinterest in the details of my own experiences and my heightened interest in my thoughts and feelings around them.

#10  I'm less troubled by guilt these days and more troubled by my lack of big dreams (and still puzzled about how best to tackle my frequent, though short-lived, pangs of jealousy but more of that in another post)

Yep, I've discovered that guilt has done me no great service over the years and that my lack of big dreams has kept me from living much more freely and joyfully than I have done.  Not any more though!

So, there you have it.  Ten observations about myself.  Not a 'Top Ten' by any means.  That was not the intention.  Rather it was about sharing what I've become aware of in recent times.

How about you?  Care to share some of your self-observations?

How about an explosion of freshly peeled orange on your tongue?

My post yesterday uncovered a new path of exploration for me.

Sure, virtually any philosopher you pick will have expressed the fact that we humans have a need to feel connected and that biologically and psychologically, we depend on feedback.  To that extent, there is nothing new in my recent realizations. But they are new and fresh to me.

Not entirely new, I suppose, but entirely fresh.  Rather like the flesh beneath a freshly peeled segment of orange.  The orange itself is not new to the eyes but the bit of flesh it now reveals is very fresh indeed and I'm salivating with eager anticipation of its sparkling, zesty juice on my tongue - guaranteed to generate an explosion of pleasure on my taste, I mean thought, buds :)

Forgive me, I don't mean to get all metaphorical.  I'm just relating the observations that my mind is making.

And, yes, it intrigues me, this need of ours to feel connected and to receive feedback.  Let me put it this way.  If I didn't believe that someone would be reading my posts and might respond to them, I'm pretty certain I wouldn't write them.

Nope.  I mean, I might pen my thoughts in a journal, whether electronic or paper, which is something I have been doing.  But blogging is a public affair, and for many of us bloggers, it's a public affair of private proportions.  Or might that equally be a private affair of public proportions?

Regardless, why do we have this need to feel connected?  Why are we looking for feedback?

As always, my best answers are the ones that are true for me.  So let me try and rummage through this rain forest of my mind and see what I find.

Wow!  Here is some of it:

I want to feel connected because THAT'S WHAT I REALLY AM and this sense of a separate 'me' feels neither real nor good.  Whoa...!

In other words, I want to remain in touch with a truth that seems to have become obscured by a dominant belief in separation!  But, I suppose you may ask (as I am now doing), why we need external forms of connection when true connection is ultimately felt in the mind and heart.

Yep, that is a great and very valid question.  My answer is that we are physical beings and our physicality predisposes us to physical/external forms of connectivity.

It's like eating food.  The physical body requires some food to keep it going.  Not a lot, but enough.  We'd die without it, eventually.

Likewise, I would think, with being connected.  The physical/external forms of connection help remind us of our fundamental connectedness - something that our false sense of separation obscures us from.

Without it, we might feel completely and falsely separated and that would not be a true and full reflection of who and how we truly are.  We'd die, psychologically and spiritually, without it just as we'd die physically without food.

And feedback?  

I think that feedback gives us information about our relationship with others and with ourselves.  Whether we're being drawn closer to them or pulled further apart.  Whether we're feeling more or less alive.  Whether we're experiencing more or less joy.

We don't need to be in agreement with other people's ideas in order to feel close or closer to them.  But we do need to know that we are not disconnected or distanced from them because of our differing ideas and beliefs.

I seek feedback as my way of testing out some of my ideas and beliefs.  What you say in response to them gives me new lenses to view them with and this could result in my re-examining and refining them or explaining them further or abandoning them altogether.

It also helps me recognize and respect you as a unique expression of the single connectedness that you and I are.   And that you have as much freedom and right to your thoughts and beliefs as I do to mine.  AND that the more I am accepting of your unique expression, the freer I can feel! Oh yeah!

I seek feedback also because I think, in some way, it tells me that someone cares and that I matter, in however minuscule an amount that might be.

So, what do you think?

Brown belt origami exponent - not!

I had this desire to make stuff with my hands, you know, crafty things, as well as draw and color and paint.  I rather fancied the idea of decorating my tiny unit with angels for Christmas so I thought I'd learn to make some origami angels. 

Would you believe, the day following my expression of my desire (as a thought in my mind), I came across not one, but several instances of books on origami (though not of angels), something that I'd never noticed before in the bookstores.  And they weren't even tucked away on shelves either but right out there on the display tables:).

Okay, the fact is, this sort of thing, i.e. synchronous events', if you like, has been happening to me more and more in the last few months.  I just have to think of something obscure or unusual (or even mundane and necessary like money) that I desire  and it appears within a few hours or a day or two!  It's been such a thrill. 

Like the time I was thinking of getting some music by Bob Marley, not having mentioned it to anyone.  That very day, the assistant manager at the store where I work played Bob Marley almost all morning.  And in the afternoon, when I went to meet my friend, J, at the Rocking Horse music store in the city, what album had he just purchased?  Yep.  Bob's 'Legend'!  And he is the last person I'd think would be interested in reggae!  I could go on but I'd like to get back to my origami angels and my general desire to get arty-crafty. 

Well, like any wannabe enthusiast,  I looked stuff up on the internet (Yeah, I'm deliberately avoiding using that 'G' word ::) and, as you can imagine, I found what I wanted and gazzillions more!  And, as you can also imagine, I got distracted and started trying out several things.  Some were tearful failures.  No, no, I didn't cry but anyone looking at them would have.

I mean, that origami rose would require an origami brown belt (or whatever the highest karate level belt is) to create.  Yep, that piece of paper that was poised to become a rose before I laid hands on it got rapidly crushed into a heap to avoid further self-embarrasment. 

Then there was the hexagonal gift box that I thought would be gorgeous to make and put Christmas gifts in.  Well, when I saw the number of folds that required and attempted to follow the video, I very quickly found myself marooned on 'Haven't got a snowball's chance in Hell' island, only to be rescued by the thought that perhaps there might be something just a little bit (I mean, a heck of a lot) simpler for an Origami pre-pubescent like me. 

That's when I found the simple, dunce-proof boxes which I simply enjoyed making, not only because they were impossibly easy to make but because I was able to put some simple biro pen designs on them.

I ended up making three of those although I could have easily made three times as many.  I have them sitting on my window sill where I can see them and marvel at their happy beauty :).  Oh, how easily thus soul of mine is thrilled :)

Here they are:

PS  I haven't got round to those angels yet but I intend to... :)

A letter of love from me to you

If I were to try and tell you everything that’s in my heart and in my mind, I’m afraid I’d pass out from exhaustion and emotion.  Besides, why would I want to share those things that are so sad and so tender, they would dampen and weigh down even the most brilliant spray of sunlight on a magnificent spring day?

So, I’d rather tell you about some of my dreams, ones I have for myself and for you and for the other people that I have known and loved in my life thus far.

Standing right at the top of this heap of dreams is my dream of unceasing peace and joy for each of you.  Oh yes!  There is nothing more worthwhile than a heart and mind that is simply bursting with peace and joy.  Everything else, if there should be room for it, is just by-product.

Yes, just by-product, I say, and yet, it’s important to us who have been conditioned into human beings, though we are, above all else and ultimately, formless, limitless, eternal life, spirit, energy, love.  How do you describe something that cannot possibly be captured by words?  Best, I think, to leave it unspoken. 

Still, without these words, I have few other symbols or prompts to offer as clues to that which I wish to bring to your attention.  So please, accept these meager offerings and know that they point to something infinitely grander and more delightful and powerful than any word could purport to describe.

I also desire for you and me the dream of remembering.   

Yes, remembering who and what we truly are.  Oh, please, do look carefully at the self you see in the mirror and the self that engages with friends and family and the self that does things that you regret and lose countless nights of sleep and days of punishing guilt over. 

Do look ever so thoroughly at this self that you believe is defined by its thoughts and words and actions, none of which in fact defines it. No, never!  I beg you, do look at this self that thinks it is unworthy or imperfect or unlovable or doomed.  

It is but a projection of your thoughts and your beliefs, nothing more and nothing less, I assure you, for you only have to change those thoughts and beliefs and the projection is altered.  Another self materializes!  I assure you.  I have done it myself.  Many times.

Just as certainly as you have materialized one projection with your thoughts and beliefs, so you can materialize other projections with other thoughts and beliefs – the possibilities are endless and this is, in fact, the adventure of life that you signed up for!  Yes, my love, this is what I so want you to remember!  

I know, I know, that one, critical memory is buried under all the conditioning into human beings that you and I have inherited through our individual and collective ancestry.  But do not let it remain buried.  Unbury it.  Believe me, it’s easily done.  Much more easily than you dare believe.  

All you need to do is desire it!  

Yes, that’s all. 

Simply desire it.  

Don’t waste a moment pondering the nature of how it will come about for the infinite and inexhaustible and powerful source that you are will draw on its flawless intelligence and limitless possibilities to guide you on a path.  Yes, desire it and remain open to its guidance.  It could not be easier.  Seriously.

Change is but a thought away.  

With one new thought, held in faith and openness, in joy and unchecked desire, your whole world can change and you give birth to a new projection, one that you choose consciously.  Not one that you’ve been conditioned into and that you helplessly feed and reinforce and try and breathe life into.  

It is, in essence, lifeless, for it is a projection that has materialized from fearful beliefs, beliefs that deny who and what you truly are,

Oh, my love, every now is a moment of possible change.  Make this now your moment of change.  And the next and the next.  There is no limit to where you can go with this.  There is no limit to what you can be with this.  There is no limit to the adventures you can embark on with this.  

There is no limit to what you can choose. 

So, why wouldn’t you choose fun and excitement and joy and love and peace and laughter and dance and music and apple pie and romance and countless smiles and youthfulness and real power and comfy shoes and gorgeous dresses and amazing friends and fearless living and mind-blowing ideas and global harmony and perfect health and wisdom and genius and ravishing beauty and quietude and…

Oh, don’t fuss over how these must come about and what they will look like or feel like other than ‘wonderful’ for beauty takes all forms as does comfy shoes and amazing friends!  Just desire the joy of all of these and more and you shall have it!

And do not let the old projections cloaked in guilt, rage, unworthiness and helplessness define you even a moment longer, dangled by your false beliefs and erroneous thinking.  Let the memory of your true nature awaken with your joyful desire for it and let it create the YOU that you truly desire!

I swear to you, it couldn’t be simpler.

With all my love!  Now, my love, now!

11-11-10 How much do you want this?

http://www.newrealitytransmission.com/

I believe in this.  I hope you do too and that, together, we can create a new reality - one that is free from suffering of all forms and filled with joy, freedom and creative endeavor for every person . Please, have a look:

http://www.newrealitytransmission.com/

I'm sooooooooo excited!!!

When does a friend become a 'true' friend and why?

I wonder if you've felt this way too. 

What way?

Well, you have friends and acquaintances, right?  The friends are people you probably like and trust.  The acquaintances are people that you may know 'from a distance', not well enough to like or trust.  You don't necessarily dislike them but you probably don't trust them. 

Right, so what 'way' am I talking about that appears to have something to do with friends and acquaintances? 

Well, when does an acquaintance become a 'friend'?  Or if you prefer, how does an acquaintance become a friend?  And while we're at it, when and how does a friend become an even better friend?  A really good friend?  A best friend?  A right mate?  A bosom buddy?  A true friend?

It seems to me that it happens when you share a really low point in your life with them, either retrospectively i.e. when you relate some deep or dark or intimate personal experience to them or when you are in the throes of such deep or dark or intimate experience during either of which they are a caring presence.

Now, here's what I'm really interested to know:  Why is it that we seem to need to share something very personal and usually something that has caused us considerable pain or embarrassment with someone before we feel really 'close' to them?  Before we'd feel prepared or able to consider them a 'real' friend?

Have you ever wondered about that?

Please tell me if the person or persons you consider your best friend or friends do not fall in this category. 

So, why?  Why do they have to pass this 'test' or meet this 'criteria' that we seem to set them, unconsciously, albeit?

Why does a person whom we share only really good times and good news with never quite make it to this 'best', 'dearest' friend status?

I am really curious to know.  Do you have any thoughts on this? 

It really p***** me off

It seriously pisses me off when my sincere efforts to share only what I truly think and feel with as little censorship as possible is dismissed or overridden by the fact that I maintain anonymity online.

Most people, I am relieved to say, do seem able to focus on what I share and some actually do respond with an equal measure of sincerity and thought.  You'll find some of these people through the comments they have left at this and my other blogs. 

There are a few, however, who cannot seem to get past the pseudonym that I write under and consequently sum me up as 'unknown' or 'mysterious'. 

For crying out loud, I could easily have used a probable, yet fictitious, name such as Christine Kent.  Would that have made me less 'mysterious'?  More 'known'? 

I could also provide a random age, like 29.  Would that suddenly make what I share more believable? 

I know that I'm making a big deal out of a situation that involves a very small number of people but it does get my goat.  You know? 

I mean, here I am sharing my innermost thoughts and feelings, things that I would ruthlessly edit out from my conversations under my 'given' name.  (I have decided that the term 'given' is a more correct description of that name rather than 'real'). 

After all, under that name, I have a reputation to upkeep and an image to preserve!  Is that the 'me' that  these people would rather know?  The peachy version?  Is that who they assume I 'really' am? 

I'm choosing to write about this because I want to get it off my chest.  I also want to know what you, my reader, think?  Do you use a pseudonym or a plausible fictitious name? 

If so, what has your experience been, as a blogger and as someone who leaves comments and participates in online discussions?

I didn't take it personally

P enters my apartment, his opening statement hanging off the edge of his tongue:

'I had a rude awakening today'.

I checked to make sure he did mean something negative, ''Rude?  Not pleasant?"

'Yep, rude as in bad.  Well, actually, it wasn't bad,  It was just the shock of reality, really'.

P deposits his bag on my couch, sits on its arm while making a half-hearted attempt to fend off my lascivious dog.  (No, I'm serious.  She just about molests all my guests, or is that 'our' guests?  Well, they certainly don't come to see her, at least not at first).

I'm chuckling internally which results in a broad smile on my face.

'Oh, tell me all about it', I say, really eager to know.  'But hang on, let me just sort this molester out'.

I can see a mixture of emotions reflected on P's face - impatience, relief, eagerness, excitement....

Well, we were put on the phones today with real customers for the first time.  It was real.  This lady was really ticked off,

'I've been waiting four hours to get through.  /This is just not good enough. No, I'm not going to create another account.  I expect you to sort this out....blah, blah, blah'.

'I didn't take it personally', P was eager to assure me.  'They told us all about this during our training so I knew not to take it personally, but it was still a shock.  Some of the girls cried.  But it was good, good experience, continued P, nodding his head as if trying to convince himself.

'I just wished I could have actually solved some of the problems.  But I couldn't and that was not so good.  I mean, we always suggest things to them but they don't necessarily solve anything, just sort of gets them off your back, you know?  But there were some good calls.  One customer called me 'god'.'

P has recently started working for a very large and well-known IT company in customer service.  After three weeks of training, this was his first day on the phones with actual customers.

It was good to hear his experience as I warmed up the meal I'd prepared for us earlier.  It felt like I was with someone who'd just stepped out of a battlefield -slightly traumatized but mostly determined to find meaning in it, knowing he would be back for more the following day and for a while hereafter.

Bonnie had finally settled and P was heartily tucking into the osso bucco I'd pressure-cooked with carrots, celery, onions, garlic and a tiny sprinkling of dried red chilli, served with rice cooked with brown lentils.  I'd bought the meat for him as I generally don't eat meat.  I was pleased with my cooking as clearly was P.

After he'd finished, he went outside to the courtyard to drag on a cigarette.  The evening was mild enough for my t-shirt over a light cotton dress.  P shared his music with me, his favorites as well as his own compositions.  I enjoyed the soothing sounds of electronica although I didn't care for one where the tempo was 160 bpm.  The lack of variety in the sound at this tempo just makes me feel anxious, as if I'm hopelessly trapped :).  P laughed understandingly when I told him this.

He left not long after, concerned that he'd need a good night's sleep in preparation for another grueling day on the phone with real customers!  I was all for it.  I walked him to the bus stop and gave his a hug and kiss when his bus arrived.  I was glad for his company, brief as it was.

As I walked home, I finally gave the thought that had been rattling in my head some attention:

"If you hadn't taken it personally, why did you feel upset?  

Isn't it true that we always take things personally, to a greater or lesser degree and with a greater or lesser recovery rate?

What do you think?

You just don't get it

This day
blushing with sunlight
and pregnant with air
keeps itself afloat
as it chooses to
by our breath

Feeding itself to me
tenderly
through my senses
with Divinity's chosen notes
impeccably spaced
on a Spanish guitar
and the comforting , raw tanginess
of a freshly composed chocolate orange shake
along with the cold tiles faithfully beneath my feet
and the quivering bamboo fronds
doing their delicate dance of
shudders and shakes


If heaven were to appear to me,
would it be much different?
Would I recognize it,
trapped as I mostly am,
in my cleverly disguised fears
and my battle-ready defenses?

Holy sunlight washes over me
Blessings of the cosmos
Trees stretch upwards, their branches
flush with leaves
unashamedly drinking up this free nectar
and free from any doubt
that this is the perfect enactment
of their sacred purpose.
What is mine?

What is mine? I have asked
three hundred and twenty-five times
to the best of my knowledge.
I ask as if someone or something
other than myself
has the answer, mystically shrouded,
only to be revealed at some
stupendously significant moment
Hopefully, in a blinding epiphany
rather like Saul's

Wouldn't that be a story to tell!

Holy fool!
Why should any moment be
more significant than any other,
when the sunlight bathes each equally?
Why should this meaning be
worth more than another,
when all arise out of the same
cosmic mind, and you are but
one of its infinite points of reference?

Why are you so addicted
to 'specialness',
desperate to define yourself
by it?
When all of life, every miserable
sodding, orgasmic, uplifting, enchanting
scrap of it
is 'special'?
Why, in other words, do you
long  for what
already is?

There can be only one reason.

You just don't get it.

TBT

"You'd let a 63 year old lady on a disability pension spend the night in the park...?"

The lady next door knocked on mine.

"I seem to have lost my key while I've been out and although I've got a combination code for the spare key that I leave on the wall by the door, I just can't seem to remember it.  Do you have the Yellow Pages so I can call a locksmith?"

It was after six o'clock and I really didn't fancy her chances.  I was also feeling resentful about this 'intrusion' especially because I was really rather afraid of her.

I should explain.  I've had little occasion to interact with her (I somehow feel the choice has been mutually shared).  However, I'd heard from another neighbor that she's a little mentally unpredictable, to put it gently.  The fact is, I've discovered a couple of times, plastic bags with rubbish in them placed outside my door and my other neighbor, J's.

When I mentioned it to J, he told me that E was responsible for the unwelcome 'gifts' and that was mainly because she'd decided to go off her medication.  Now, I could launch into a whole discussion about my opinion about how mental health is evaluated and treated but I won't.  Suffice to say, I don't agree with much of it.  Anyhow, as a result of this and other similarly oblique encounters with E, I have been pretty happy about the fact that our paths rarely coincide.  But, here she was at my door.

I invited her in or should I say, I let her in.  She has a somewhat superior manner about her, speaks much louder than necessary and with a sharpness to an already stretched local accent.  The idea was that she'd look up the Yellow Pages and make some calls to see if she could get someone to come out.

She began her calls but the fact that she didn't have the money to pay the tradesmen in full for their 'out of hours' service although she attempted to assure them she'd pay within the next couple of weeks didn't seem to help.

Meanwhile, I went to see if I could get help from the 'head tenant',  S.  She would know who to call.  S took a while getting to the door.  I wasn't sure if she'd been asleep or making love.  She did seem to be out of breath, something greatly assisted by her heavy smoking.  She was remarkably composed though, and was quickly able to give me a number to call.  I was grateful for two main reasons.

One, I was glad that S knew what was happening.  You see, for some pathetic reason, I was afraid that E might lose it and I didn't think I'd be able to handle that too well.  The other reason was that I was really, really dreading the possibility that I might have to put E up for the night.

Yes, I know, I can be dreadfully selfish and cowardly.  And unduly pessimistic.  However, as I was returning from S's, I thought to myself that I would be calm, confident and kind.  So saying, I returned to my apartment to hear E persist in her assurances to someone on the phone that she has always paid tradesmen who've done any work for her and she was prepared to give them the name of the tradesman who'd most recently done a job for her.

There was some response from the other end and then, 

"Oh...now that's terrible.  So you really think that a 63 year old woman trying to live on a pension should have to spend the night in a park??

Her voice began to falter (and I couldn't help thinking it was put on), as she added,  " ...and with arthritis".

"I'm not having much luck", she reported to me when she put the phone down.  Tell me something I don't know, I thought.

"I've just been up to see S, " I said, "and she suggests that you call these people because they are the ones who service our units".

The long and short of it was that E did call them and they said they'd be forty minutes and they agreed to accept a part payment with the balance to be paid in two weeks.

I could have offered to lend E the money but it would have meant going to a cash machine for the cash, which in itself was hardly a bother.  But I was secretly afraid that I might not have enough myself.  I only get paid tomorrow, you see!  In fact, I've been putting off paying a few bills for just that reason.

I did make E a cup of coffee, white with no sugar.  I did invite her to sit down.  And I did chat with her.  She became very curious about me, probing to find out if I'd studied psychology (she saw a copy of Jung and the Lost Gospels on my coffee table).  She also explored my much downsized collection of books on my makeshift bookshelf and picked out Tagore to read.

She was keen to talk and tell me that she'd gone to University many years ago and had a daughter in Canada, married with two kids and who was a medical doctor as was her husband.  I did not feel obliged to say too much or even ask too much.  I felt it would be best to let her talk as she felt inclined to.

She remarked that my apartment felt very peaceful and later that I was very peaceful.  Oh yes, by this time, her voice had lowered considerably in volume.  She was very appreciative of my help.  I told her matter-of-factly that I would always try to help when I could and that when I couldn't, I wouldn't.  I think she sensed the sincerity of my words.  I think that the encounter might have given her cause to reconsider her somewhat superior attitude.  Yeah, I know, how wishful and perhaps arrogant of me:)

But, more importantly, it's given me a little more confidence.  I feel less afraid of her and sense that I'll be generally less afraid of people who seem to lose control of themselves.  It's shown me that I can somehow get past my fear to being naturally kind and accommodating, even if at first I'm convinced that I can't and that I don't want to be!

On that score, at least, we're even

My sister and I need to get back to Moorooka and we need $4 for our bus fares.  Could you give me $4?

This good-looking, well-dressed lady looks directly into my eyes, as if defying me to disbelieve her.  I am feeling terribly uncomfortable.  I don't intend to give her the money for reasons I am not entirely clear about.  At the same time, I don't wish to be disrespectful in any way.  If any thing, I feel a desperate need to assure her that her request for my money has in no way diminished my respect for her as another living creature. 

But my emotions are stirred from their convenient sleep into an unsettling, incongruent, conflicted mess.  Why am I unable to say a straightforward, respectful 'No'?  Why is my mind scrambling clumsily for another way of saying 'No'?  Why is it grasping for some euphemistic alternative disguised as a credible excuse or what I feebly try to convince myself is one?  I know that she is not going to believe it.  Just because she asks a stranger for money doesn't make her insensitive to people's motivations. 

I give her some half-baked excuse amounting to a lie that I don't have any change, hoping that she gets the hint.  Instead, she asks if I've got $5 (a note).  I vacillate between feeling slightly miffed by her cheek and still trying to find a dignifying way out.  No, I say, I don't and this time, it seems I have stopped trying to lessen the blow.  She looks at me with the same expression that she's maintained from the start of our encounter, almost dour faced.  I briefly wonder what she's thinking. But most of my thoughts are already embroiled in a post mortem.

Why do I feel so uncomfortable about being approached for money in this way?  Why don't I give it?  What am I really saying when I don't?  How can I respond in a way that leaves me feeling good and, hopefully, does something useful for the other person? 

I think that most of all, I don't give because I believe it's an inadequate, short term response that at best, would meet an immediate or short term need that's likely to do more harm than good.  It's also because there's a very strong voice inside my head telling me that the money will be spent on grog or cigs or drugs rather than getting this lady and her, thus far, not-to-be-seen sister anywhere near where she says they're hoping to go.

In short, I don't believe her story any more than she believes mine.  So, on that score, at least, we're even.  But beyond that, I'm sure I feel I'm in  a better place than she is.  If all or most of my assumptions about her are right, I am reassured by the fact that I have not acquired an addiction and worse still, one which I am unable to support financially.  Neither am I likely to ask a stranger for money or lie to them about what the money is for. 

I know, I am passing judgment on this lady.  Or am I?  I like to think that I'm making observations about a person and about myself.  If anything, I am more concerned with my response and my reasoning (or lack of) and what beliefs and values underlie them.  One by one, I hope to pick them open and examine them for I sense there is much I shall discover and learn about myself.  Things that will help me regard another human being with true respect and regard, not just for who they are but for their right to their choices in life.

I'd rather be appreciated than rewarded

I work in a retail store anywhere from one to three days a week.  It's a store that operates on the principles of fair trade and sources all its products, almost 95% of which are handmade by women, from  countries such as Thailand, Peru, Sri Lanka, Paraguay, Colombia, Kenya, the Philippines and East Timor.

The handcrafted goods, including the very popular owl shaped shoulder bags, waste paper baskets made from recycled telephone books and spider-weave table runners are each uniquely made and are an absolute delight to our customers.  Sadly, although our store is located in an expensive suburb and on the main drag, because it's not part of a big shopping complex, its clientele are mainly passers-by. Which means, we don't get as many as we need.

Yesterday, what with the rain playing cheeky on and off games with us, we had a total of twenty customers.  Hardly anything to crow about although we did have a fifty percent conversion.  The manager attributed that to me insisting that I have a way with people.  The truth is, I do enjoy engaging with them and I smile a lot and I am known to say some rather strange and unexpected things that seem to  make people smile and often explode with laughter. I don't plan any of this, of course.  It's just a natural reaction to people:)

For instance, I was serving a couple of girlfriends not long ago.  It was a day for girlfriends.  There must've been at least four pairs that day,  Anyways, I was serving this lady whose friend had come in a week or so ago on her own looking for some amethyst earrings for a friend.  Apparently, it was the friend's birthday.  Well, sadly, we didn't have any amethyst earrings although we did have amethyst necklaces which was not quite what this lady wanted to give her friend.

When this lady and a friend turned up at the store I wondered if this might be the friend she'd been wanting to buy the earrings for and when I had a chance, I quietly asked her.  I think she was chaffed by the fact that I remembered her and her thwarted intentions.  So, knowing I was in the good books, I naturally gave myself freedom of speech.

The lady's friend had decided to purchase a shoulder bag and when the two of them came to the counter to pay for it, I asked the friend if this was her first time at our store.  Yes, she replied.  To which I said with deliberately muted excitement and a hint  of gravity, "Ah, a virgin".  Well, you can imagine the uproar that caused.  The friend just could not stop laughing (and laugh she did, all the way out of the store some ten minutes later) while everyone else in the store (it's quite a small one) pricked up their ears hoping to catch more juicy tittle tattle.

Well, the stage was set.  I launched into the story of how I'd come about this particular phrase.  But perhaps I'll leave that story for another post and continue for now with how my 'personality has changed over the years - from someone who used to keep her gaze toward the ground and hope and pray that no one would notice her to someone who is just looking for an opportunity to smile at people.  If you knew me, I mean seriously knew me, you'd know that that has been a change of galactic proportions.

I've noticed that I tend to smile at bus drivers too these days.  The other day, one of them commented on it.  And the day before, on my ride back from my Monday evening Buddhist class, which incidentally is about the nature of reality (yeah, heavy stuff), I noticed a sign on the bus.  Well, actually, I'd noticed the sign several times before but only took the time to read it properly that night.  The last thing it said was: Reward the bus driver with a smile.

It made me wonder of course, as you must know by now, about several things.  Like, do I really believe in rewarding anyone?  Do bus drivers feel 'rewarded' when someone smiles at them or do they just feel nice?  Why do we buy into this concept of 'reward'?  Isn't it rather limiting?  Couldn't we just appreciate?  Couldn't we be encouraged to 'appreciate' rather than 'reward'?

In my mind, appreciation is such a natural response which is based on enjoyment rather than 'e-value-ation.  Reward, on the other hand, connotes a certain amount of evaluation and encourages us to think and respond in terms of 'degrees' of value and other such discriminating and restricting concepts.

What do you think?  I'd love to know :)

Reminiscing on a rainy day

I want to tell you about the rain that's been dripping down on us almost ceaselessly the last few days, and that, according to the weather forecasts, is likely to continue for a good few more.

I want to tell you about the rain because I do love it.  I love its tenderness and the soft sounds it makes as it falls upon leaves and fronds and earth and concrete ground and brollies and window panes and my hair and face and leaves its drops on all of them.  Yes, that sound is continuous as long as it is raining, varying only in intensity.  I love the way the palm fronds quiver and dance as raindrops land on them, so delicately.  And I love how green and nourished and satisfied the grass and trees and plants look, as if they've just had the most sumptuous and satisfying meal :)

Why is it that the rain makes us want to snuggle up in bed or on a comfortable sofa and get lost in a good book?  Is it simply because we can't go out (or should I say prefer not to go out because we don't wish to get wet?).  Or is there something more to it?  Light rain has such a comforting, constant sound/  Well, it makes that sound when it comes into contact with things of and on the earth including roof tops and drainpipes. 

When I was a teenager, I used to be too embarrassed to hold a brolly and walk in the rain.  Actually, as a teenager, I was painfully embarrassed to do a lot of things, including being me.  I'm talking about my late teens here and early twenties.  Oh, the pain!  I cannot say that I've lost all that shyness altogether but I guess you could say I'm much better at concealing it.  Actually, it would be truer to say that I've learned to focus on different things.

I remember I was at a party once and it was decided we each had to tell a story about ourselves (This was in my early twenty's).  We were all sat in a circle, about eight of us, and I spent the entire eternity of those forty or so minutes dying countless deaths inside me.  I was emotionally traumatized and my brain went into lock-down mode.  I simply couldn't think of what to say other than "I can't do this".

Oh my god, it was hell.  When it finally was my turn, I simply put my head down and shook it to indicate that I could not do it.  Of course, this brought on a cascade of encouragement from the rest of the party which only made it worse for me.  I had attracted more attention to myself (which was, for crying out loud, the exact opposite of what I wanted!).  It would have been so much easier if I'd attempted to say something but I simply couldn't.  It was truly a traumatic event.

When I was at university, just before a field trip to Wales, I found a note in my pigeon hole.  It simply said "You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen".  A part of me felt thrilled but a much larger part of me went into panic mode and I was terrified and guilty at the same time.  Can you believe that???  Guilty???  What on earth for, you must wonder.  Because I had a boyfriend then whom I honestly didn't love but whom I'd pledged myself to (and ended up marrying and eventually divorcing some 15 years later).  Yes, believe it.

I had no business being attractive to others.  I must have believed that on some level.  Actually, I'm certain I did.  During the field trip, a guy came over to me and declared that he was totally attracted to me and wanted me to be his girlfriend.  The 'worst' part was that he was someone I'd noticed at lectures and was soooooooo attracted to as well.  He was good looking alright.  Terribly good looking - Italian and English features and gorgeous skin.  I'd naturally thought to myself that with his looks, he'd never give me a second look.  (Besides, I was this sky, awkward girl who never showed or spoke her true feelings).

For goodness sake, it wasn't as if I was ugly.  Quite the contrary.  People would often pass me compliments from which I would recoil with embarrassment and guilt.,  Yes, the guilt was always there. 

So, I never reciprocated his interest in me although god knows how badly I wanted to.  My life would have certainly turned out differently had I.  I can't say if it would have been better or worse but it would have been different.

Nothing like a bit of reminiscing on a rainy day, is there? :)

PS  In case you're wondering (I very much doubt you are but I thought I'd explain anyway), I often find the title for my post after I've written the post :)

An abstract need

I'm starting this with no idea where I'm going.  No idea where I'm beginning either except that it's here.  Perhaps you could say it's a stream of consciousness thing, but I'd hesitate to call it that, not entirely at any rate.

I'm listening to this powerful piece of music as I write this. It's Joss Stone allowing Jeff Beck to accompany her on There's no other Me. Has that girl got a voice!  The bass guitar is something awesome too.  Yeah, powerful, searing stuff.  No., not the bass but the whole composition.  I've only recently (in the last couple of years) discovered Jeff Beck and I love his style.  He can come play at my party any time :)

But really, before thinking to tell you about the music I was listening to, I wanted to tell you about this simply soft, lush canopy of green that's spread wide across my view from the window where I'm sitting and typing this.  It's the time of early evening, not long before six, when the sky is turning that dusky blue and there's just enough light to show you how green the leaves on the sprawling branches of this tree (whose name I still do not know nor seriously care to know) can be.

So you might ask why might any of this be noteworthy.  Why, furthermore, would I want to share it with you?  Well, for one thing, this is probably the most enchanting time of the day for me.  For another, the green is just so rich and fertile and promising and beguiling.  I don't know why, it just is to me.  And I am filled with this deep sense of beauty and enchantment, as if I were in a world of magic and nothing matters at all.

By the time you read this, the feelings will probably have left me and in all honesty, I rather doubt that you could even begin to get a taste of what I'm on about as I don't think I've been able to express or describe anything terribly well.  But, for some reason, I have a desire to share this and hope, in some vague way, that it might remind you of beautiful, tender moments of being lost in some kind of magic.

I've been reading a book by Neale Donald Walsh called 'Happier than God  I recommend it if you want to understand how things work and how you can be happy.  So simply put although there are profound truths which may require you to pause and read them over and reflect on them.

I went to visit my friend, L, today.  She's going to New Zealand for a holiday tomorrow, for seventeen days.  I helped her get her things together in her suitcase and carry-on bag.  She didn't really need my help.  It was more the reassurance of my being with her before she left that I think mattered.

We exchanged gifts, neither of us knowing that we were going to.  I'd got her a  sea-blue scarf with silver threads through it and a blue, glass-like bracelet to go with it.  I wanted her to have something from me on her trip.  She loved them at once.  And then, she presented me with a couple of gifts - a scarf she'd knitted ages ago and had forgotten about (actually there were four of them) and a desk lamp that I'd been eying to use by my laptop instead of the overhead l light that I currently use.  Of course I was thrilled with both.

I treasure my time with L. She's a cool cucumber. Sharp as a tack and ripe with life.

So, I took the bus home.  Two buses actually.  I no longer have a car.  It needed new brakes and it was going to cost more than I could afford and I was becoming less and less enthusiastic about using a car.  So, finally, I got the wreckers to come and collect her.  It took me several months to come to that decision.  Interesting how the inevitable plays itself out...

Gosh, I don't suppose I've said anything of much substance here.  Nothing for you to chew on, to ponder, to pick a bone with.  But it's satisfied a need in me, an abstract sort of a need.  Have you had any 'abstract' needs of late?  Care to share them?  Or at least, to share how you satisfied them?  I'm all ears. I mean, all eyes :)

If only I knew

I wonder.  Did you ever feel you knew exactly what you were meant to 'do' in this life? 

I've heard and read about people, mainly famous people, who seemed to know from a very early age what they were meant to do with their lives and got to it without wasting too much time.  Sure, there are cases where they may have encountered road blocks and were forced to make detours but that did not change the fact that they seemed to know just what they were meant to do.

I wonder if you also might have known?  I don't think I ever did.  Truth be told, I still don't think I do.  Which strikes me as rather unfortunate.  Why?  Because I feel I could have got on to it sooner and spent more of my life doing what I was meant to do rather than wondering about it.

Of course, all this presumes a number of things.  For instance, it presumes that we each have a certain 'thing' that we are predestined to do and/or be.  It could also imply that the time that we're not doing whatever it is we're meant to be doing is time wasted.  Those seem to be the most obvious implications of my line of questioning, neither of which I believe to be true.  At least, not completely.

I mean, the notion of something predestined seems to suggest that we really have no say in the matter.  I believe we always have a say in the matter.  If that weren't true, well then, we'd all be doing exactly what we're predestined to do, wouldn't we? 

I suppose you could argue that we are doing whatever it is we're predestined to be doing including all the things that we think (or I think) are not as clearly and conveniently defined as say, being a famous rock musician or a spiritual luminary or a brilliant actor or an exceptional scientist or philosopher. 

If so, I have two questions:

1.  Why isn't it as clearly defined?
2.  Why is there a sense of not feeling and knowing that 'this is it'?

As for the 'time-wasting' proposition, well, I don't really believe that anything is ever wasted although I do believe that many benefits in life often go unrecognized. 

So, do you have any thoughts on this?  I'd be most interested to know.  You see, I'd really like to know that I was getting to where I want to be, if only I knew where/what that was!

Oh, what do I do with all this inspiration?

The fact of the matter is (funny how I resort to cliches when I really wish to make a point), if I took just one thing, just one solid idea and devoted my entire life to it,. I would be, well, devoted I guess.

My point, which I haven't yet made, is this: There are so many brilliant, useful, high-energy, supremely good ideas that float into my consciousness in the course of a day and I wish I could embrace each one of them consummately.  But the very thought of devoting my life to one of them stirs within me a mild panic. 

What about all the other things that I need to do and think about and put into practice?

Let me give you just a sample of the marvelous ideas, insights, exhortations and inspirational prompts that I've currently got at my disposal (what an odd phrase that is in this particular instance).

"Change your thoughts"
"Slow down"
"Priorities lead to Prosperity"
"You cannot transcend what you do not know. To go beyond yourself, you must know yourself"
"Why you must outsource"
"When you realize that prosperity is your divine heritage, you should persist in claiming it"

I apologize for not including the names of those to be credited for these gems as they come from a variety of sources including Orna Ross, Nightingale.com and Beliefnet.

So, what am I to do?  So many wonderful things to live by. How do I incorporate them all?

I suspect that the trick is to embrace just one with as much devotion and faith as you can gather and in time, you'll experience the benefit of everything else.  Problem is, how do you quell the doubts that charge at you from the shadows where they've been waiting?  Waiting for that moment when you are in the light, having seen the light?

Doubts that remind you of failed attempts in the past and that forewarn you of impending doom?  Doubts that want to persuade you that you could be doing something else, something better, something bigger, something more rewarding, more exciting, more creative, more transformational, more innovative, more giving, more glamorous, more cool, more worthy, more 'you'?

Short answer? I don't know. 

But what I have been doing is enjoying the feeling that those truths evoke in me.  I mean, changing your thoughts of fear and dread to magnificence and freedom is a wonderful, wonderful feeling!  So is the thought of getting someone else to do some of the work that I currently have to do so that I can do more of the work that I am really good at.  And as for prioritizing, oh, what a great feeling that is to know that you're giving your energy to just those things that you know are important and that contribute directly to your sense of wellbeing!

Don't I just know how good all that feels?  And isn't it just so worth spending a few moments allowing all those wonderful feelings to wash over me? Yes, yes, yes.  It absolutely is. And I've found that when I do, good things start to happen. 

Someone calls and offers me some money.  Another person invites me to participate in an information exchange seminar on loss and grieving and oh, by the way, would I be interested in volunteering for a research project involving interviewing homeless people, each of the three sessions scheduled to start at 3 in the morning. 

Someone else sends me an email from their BB in the middle of cooking dinner (how lovely to be thought of and missed in the heart-warming activity of cooking) and another email tells me what a lovely picture I took of a vintage car and gives me some information about it and thanks me for thinking of her...Yes, all these wholesomely good stuff happens when I just lose myself in good feelings and dreamy visions. 

And it so happens that in the midst of all this, I created a (yes, yet another) new blog. It's rich and dark and filled with intoxicating aromas. I mean, you'll know you're in Coffee Heaven when you visit Espresso Makers and Coffee Lovers :)

If you do, do leave a comment or let me know in some way that you've dropped by. I should love that! Oh, and to tell the truth, I'd love to know what you think of it and if you have any suggestions for it or for any of the things that I write about and that you patiently and generously take the time to read. You know I absolutely appreciate it.

You said and I said and we heard

At the risk of boring you to tears by repeating myself, I am going to repeat myself - I absolutely love your comments.

Of course I'm speaking to those of you who have left comments. I mean, just look at them! They're not some BSC comments, the likes of which I've described in my other blog, The Blog Doctor is In. On the contrary, they are conversation pieces, in and of themselves, each one of them and I am truly grateful.

I wouldn't blog if I didn't hold out hope that my posts would kindle some fine conversations which, I'm chaffed to say, they have. Instead, I'd maintain a private journal which is what I had been doing until I started my blogs.

But the thought of having visitors drop into my cyber home, snoop around a little and then choose to leave behind a couple of their thoughts and feelings and share some of their experiences with me, all from the distant outposts of their laptops or workstations so many miles away, is just so alluring. Heck, it's more than alluring.  It's exciting. It's thrilling. It's exhilarating.  It's...alright, alright, if I don't watch myself, this post will soon become nauseating.

I've always enjoyed good conversation. Conversation that arises from deep, feeling places of the heart and rich, thoughtful places of the mind. Conversations that let me hear the sound bytes of your soul because I've stopped to listen and because you've stopped to speak.

What could be more gratifying or more indulgent, especially in contrast to the cacophony of mindless drivel and self-serving prattle that seem to characterize our daily communication or is that connectivity? Or information exchange?  Know what I mean?

I mean, we exchange repetitive sound bytes as proof, not just to others but perhaps more importantly to ourselves, that we're alive. We spout cliches because we're too lazy or too tired to speak extemporaneously or too tuned out to, or dismissive of, our feelings and thoughts to want to reflect them accurately. We use fifty words when two would say enough yet more.  And we remain silent while there are a dozen hurricanes raging inside our minds.

Forgive me if I sound critical. I don't mean to be. But I do observe the way we (myself and people generally) exchange information so much of the time and can therefore see, in contrast, the way we communicate and connect some of the time and marvel at and be grateful for the latter.  Which is where I think I started this post.

To all those who've stopped to speak with me, thank you. Please don't stop stoppng! And here's to you:

Image from here

 Care to visit the Amazon book jungle?

    

   

I didn't come into this world to be 'safe' or 'The fear of writing fearlessly'

There are some thoughts that interest me and some that don't. (How's that for stating the bleeding obvious?).

Forgive me but I just felt I needed to say that and in all honesty, I cannot tell you why I did as I don't know the reason myself. Perhaps it's because it helps me get to what I really want to say, like a bridge across where I think you are and where I want to take you.  And where's that?

I'm not sure but let's start from here - a discussion thread I came across on an online forum:  

What kind of a writer are you?

It's not a question that particularly interests me although it prompted one that does:   

Why do I write what I write and the way I write?

I've chosen to blog (which, every now and again, qualifies as writing ;)) under the relatively safe guise of a pseudonym. It's a carefully chosen pseudonym albeit not the most original or intriguing. But it is intended to convey some truths about me that may be of interest to a reader.

I chose to write somewhat anonymously because it gives me a degree of freedom I am unable to access from within my given identity, at least not yet. My nom de plume, however, allows me to explore thoughts and ideas I've prevented my 'given' self from exploring. It also allows me to say things I do not give my 'given' self permission to say and in ways I tend not to allow it to.

You see, the character inside my nom de plume is one of the main characters in my soul's cast of characters that has thus far been denied an audience. It's true, it has been speaking but no one outside the cast has ever heard it. So I write to share its thoughts, feelings, opinions and observations and to find out how they affect others which, in itself, is no great shakes except that it has drawn my attention to something a bit more interesting.

I'd naively assumed that this character of mine would speak without fear or restraint. What I'm discovering is something quite the contrary. It is fearful and it is restrained, admittedly not always and not in the same way that my 'given' character is!

This observation surprises and disturbs me. If an assumed name and relative anonymity will not release me from my fears and inhibitions as a writer, what on earth will?  And at least as pressing and intriguing a question is, Why? Why do I not feel safe enough to be free?

I suppose I could just as easily and meaningfully ask the question, Why am I not free enough to feel safe?

What do I still fear?

Shall I be completely honest? It is that I may be disliked.

Now that I've said it, I can actually sit back and contemplate its significance. It's almost laughable from this psychological distance.

Imagine living my life just so that I will be liked by others. So what if people don't like me? Will it make me any less known or less appreciated than I currently am? Does it matter? Does it matter more than the freedom I'm denying myself?

I don't think so but I'd be deluding myself if I claimed that feeling liked and appreciated aren't good feelings. They're good, very good feelings indeed.  But I learned a while ago that my happiness is not contingent upon what others think or feel about me unless, of course, I choose to make it so.

I mean, you might think I'm wonderful today and waste no opportunity telling the whole world the same but tomorrow something might happen and you'll decide I am one ungrateful, deceitful, mean animal. It's true. It's happened to me and the person in question was someone who maintained throughout his 10-year tirade that he loved me and had never stopped loving me. What's more, some people actually believe him. And, of course, he believes it himself.

I'm grateful to him in many ways for many things. No, I'm not being facetious. I mean it sincerely. He helped me build my confidence. (He also helped tear it down but I'm past that). He showed me through his personality, how to come out of my shell and avoid melancholy which I can easily slip into. And he also made me discover the true meaning of love by demonstrating very clearly to me what it is not.

Oh gosh, I really didn't think I'd be dredging all this stuff up but that's what happens when you let a thought take you where it wants to go. Anyways, back to my fear of writing fearlessly.

Perhaps I just need to be patient with myself. Give my character time to feel safe enough to come to the realization that the 'safe' mind can never fully explore and experience the 'limitless unknown' which is what I think true magic is. And I want magic. I'm sure I came into this world for it. At least, I'm certain I didn't come here to be safe.

What do you think? Can you relate to any of this?

"It's only by risking our persons from one hour to another that we live at all"  William James

   

     

   

I dare you to define 'humor'

On a recent visit to Pie and Biscuits, I, along with other readers, was invited to watch a video of an ad. I won't say anything more about that ad except that the owner of the blog told us how funny she'd found it.

Well, I bit the bait of course and watched the ad. I found it funny enough but couldn't help thinking of other ads and other recorded incidents that have left me bent over double in suicidally uncontrollable laughter. Let me give you an example of one such.

So, anyways, watching this video again caused me to ponder, again, over this hard-to-define thing called humor, which incidentally, I was taught at school and at university, that other animals don't have. 

Well, I beg to differ. I am absolutely convinced my dog laughs when I set up a barricade to prevent her from getting to the front door.  Why wouldn't she?  She has never failed to get past it. Never, no matter how I vary the configuration or the components.

As for my cat, well, his humor is so dry I'm sure he goes to the Wickham every evening to wet his whistle.

But, as usual, I digress.  The point in question is: What is this thing called humor?

Dictionary Online defines it as

"a comic, absurd, or incongruous quality causing amusement: the humor of a situation.", while The Free Dictionary gives us this definition:

" The quality that makes something laughable or amusing; funniness:"

And all that is very well, but what exactly is this 'quality'? Can you shed some light?  Or if you can't, can you share one of your funniest, most humorous video or story?  You can never have too much humor, I don't think.

And here's some fun and  funny stuff from Amazon: