A conversation with Che Part 3

Che, I’m sorry, but I’ve searched the internet and I couldn’t find anything you’d *written* dated 1972.  I did come across a heap of other interesting stuff about you though. 

What exactly did you look for?

Well…something that someone would have been inspired by you to write, I guess.  Something profound, about life, meaning, existence, the big questions….you know.

Actually, I don’t, but go ahead, tell me.  What are these *big* questions that you think are so big and important?  That, from the way you’ve been speaking so far, seems to be man’s overriding preoccupation?

(I’m a little aghast.  Surely, he must know?  Surely he’s grappled with them himself?  Is he teasing or testing me?  He does look genuinely serious, though.  I shift uneasily in my seat and he seems to sense my floundering confidence).

Hey, listen.  I’m not testing you although teasing you is, shall we say, becoming rather enjoyable (he smiles).  But seriously, this is not one of those occasions.  I am profoundly interested in what you consider the *big questions*.

But Che, you must know what they are! (I am feeling a little frustrated and puzzled at the same time).  I mean, you must have been preoccupied with them yourself!  I know you were!

You assume I was… 

Are you telling me…

Wait, let me finish. 

(He takes a deep breath and gives a long sigh).  

When you observe a man’s actions, you assume that he has put a lot of thought into it.  Sure, there are some actions that a man performs that you immediately condemn or dismiss as *mindless* but, for now, let’s leave those ones aside.  Let’s instead concentrate on the actions that we generally conclude have been well considered and thought through and which are performed as a result of deliberate choice and intent.

(He sighs again.  It is as if this topic has caused him considerable difficulty).

You have to understand something here.  There are many forces at work in bringing about the culmination of thought and intent and performed as action.

No, I didn’t say that well enough.  Let me try again.  There are many forces that shape and influence what we observe as a man’s actions AND as many forces that shape and influence our observation of such actions.

Now, I know you may be thinking that I haven’t said anything that you don’t already know but you may be surprised.  

(He interrupts himself to draw on his cigar.  After what seems to be an unbearably long pause, he continues).

A man’s actions are never his own.  Never.

(I allow that idea to permeate my mind, desperately hoping to experience an earth-shattering epiphany.  So far, there is none).

Listen mi amiga fiel (my faithful friend), what you see as life’s contradictions are really life’s resolutions.  The burden of humanity is unloaded through man’s actions.  Man must act for without acting, the burden of his humanity becomes unbearable.  

And what we observe as the action of an individual is in fact the collective act of humanity which unfairly places on the individual sole responsibility for what is in fact its collective act.  Can you understand this?

(Whoa!!! This is huge, I think to myself, and yes, it does make sense but…)

Are you saying that a man, an individual, cannot be held responsible for his or her actions?  

No, I’m saying that she or he cannot be held SOLELY responsible for his or her actions.

But if that were the case, does it not imply that a person, an individual, can never claim to be the sole author of his thoughts and the sole maker of whatever decisions or choices he makes? 

I mean, I think that you’re saying that we don’t really have free will, that we can never and have never been able to make completely unilateral decisions or choices.  And if that were true, why, I’m not sure I want to continue doing this.  

I mean, if there is no point at all, no matter how small and how far into the depths of consciousness I’ve got to go to reach it, at which I can stand and claim that this is purely MY thought and MY intention and MY choice, then what would be the bloody point of MY life????

(I am feeling terribly agitated to the point of panic almost.  This is just sooooooo not right, soooooooooo meaningless, sooooooooooo pointless).

Mi querido amiga fiel, mi mas querido amiga feil, (my dear faithful friend, my dear, dear faithful friend), I understand your disenchantment.  I truly do.  I felt the same way too when I first had this realization.  I wanted to destroy the whole world (not just this planet) and spit and vomit and piss in god’s face.  

What kind of a fucking cosmic joke was he playing on us???  What kind of a fucking joke was my fucking mind playing on me for after all, I was a fucking atheist!!!

God???  What a loser he was and who could possibly be attracted to him other than mother-fucking losers???  And I sure as hell wasn’t a mother-fucking loser.

(Despite the rising panic and disillusion that was searing my mind, I could feel the sincerity and honesty of his words)

(He paused with a deep and long sigh before continuing)

Please (looking at me tenderly), don’t cry.  Give this some time.  I promise you, you’ll understand.  It will make sense…

What if I don’t wish to understand?  What if this is something that I don’t wish to understand because it doesn’t deserve my understanding?  It fucking doesn’t deserve my understanding!  In fact, I’d say it doesn’t deserve anyone’s understanding!  To understand this would be to give up, to cop out.  I might as well slit my throat and die.

(Speaking quietly and tenderly) And that is what you must do.  You must die.

(I decide that silence and sullenness are my best response at this point.  This whole idea is outrageous.  Preposterous.  Downright disrespectful.  I want to be angry with him but for some reason I can’t.  I think I realize, on some level, that what he’s said is not his personal, individual understanding but the understanding of all of humanity, of existence.  Fuck!  This is exactly his point, isn’t it?)

I told you you’d understand (He’s smiling somewhat cautiously.  I think he’s trying to be sensitive).

(I’m fighting back a smile.  My mind is trying to hold on to my resentment but I can sense it’s losing the battle. I’m shaking my head and smiling and covering my eyes with my hand as if I’m embarrassed by the realization that he is right while he peers at me, making no attempt to hide his amusement. Fuck, fuck and triple fuck!).

(We both break into big smiles).

I think this calls for a celebration, don’t you?  Come on, I’ll take you to my favourite bar.

(I sigh deeply, feeling a tense mixture of relief, reluctance and resignation).  

A conversation with Che Part 2

I’ll tell you what hurts.  What makes me what to spit blood.  It’s the loss of human dignity.  It’s seeing that peasant trawling through his own excrement, hoping against any semblance of sanity to find something to keep him and his family alive for one more day.

There’s nothing glorifying about that.  It’s dehumanizing.  Even dogs don’t do that.

When a man has to do that, when he is reduced to such a level of existence, he must know that life is simply not worth living.  He must be prepared to give that life up.  Anything is better than living that kind of life, a subhuman life.

I can feel your anger as if it were exploding through the universe.  It’s not as loud as thunder or blinding as lightning but it feels more deadly.  Hearing you speak of it and I too find it loathsome, something that I feel I shouldn’t tolerate.

(Seething and heaving, eventually falling into a brooding, dark mood, shoulders bent over as tears slowly trickle down his cheeks.  When he speaks, it’s quiet and laboured by the lumps in his throat)

The Spirit wants to flee such a man for it will not allow itself such indignity.  It will sacrifice that body for such a body is no longer human.  It will chase after something grand, much, much grander than what this human body and this human brain are prepared to put up with.  It will not lower itself and rightly so.

I have learned since discarding my body, since living here, that ignorance and corruption are the causes of indignity.

But I thought you always knew that.  Wasn’t it what you…

I always thought I knew and this is such a dangerous thing.  More dangerous than weapons and revolutions, the one thing that destroys a man and insults him and his fellow human beings is thinking and believing that *he knows*.

He doesn’t know a fuck. 

(Seconds pass, perhaps a whole minute or two as I wait in my own shock and rising despair, wait for him to lift the hopelessness of his words with some joyful, promising revelation.  But he remains silent and when he finally speaks again, he has moved on to something else).

You must understand people.  At least you must try and understand them.

(I wait for him to continue).

By understanding people, you begin to understand the vastness of yourself.  And the smallness.  A man looks to another man for self-comprehension.  He cannot begin to comprehend himself if he were to live in isolation for in isolation, he is reduced to one single point, like a singularity, unable to see himself, feel himself, taste or hear himself.

This is why and how existence came into being.  From that one singularity, that dense, infinitesimal point, broke out all of life as it has been evolving.  And to sit in yourself without the knowledge or care for the others around you, the other things around you, animals and sky and plant and fish and so on, is to completely lack understanding of who you are.  It is to live in utter and ultimate ignorance.

But people do, I want to say, but I remain silent.

Do you know that children in Cuba start their day at school by invoking my spirit?  They say that they wish to have the spirit of adventure that I had.

Yes, I read that in Wikipedia.

(He laughs genuinely tickled by the fact that Wikipedia has become the world’s most frequently and readily accessed *authority* on any subject.)

You are a fool (he smiles at me) but I like fools far more than I like people who think they know it all.

Didn’t you think you knew it all?

Okay, I can see we’re coming full circle.  This is something we skirted around earlier.  You’ve got to understand something.  There is a difference between acting with certainty and acting with conviction.

Certainty is a dead end.  You can’t go beyond it.  You might as well stop breathing.  But conviction, ah, she is the ultimate seductress. 

I thought certainty and conviction have a lot to do with each other, I think to myself while waiting for him to explain.

You see, conviction urges you on without telling you exactly where you’re going.  All you know is that you’ve got to keep going, your very life depends on it.  Life would be utterly barren and hopeless without it. 

And you keep going, no matter how exhausted you get, even when you can’t breathe anymore.  You just keep going.  The fire’s in your belly.  You know, and this might be the only certain thing about it, that at some point, whether while still breathing or when you’ve finally stopped, you’ll go to bed with her for she’ll be waiting for you. 

And I tell you what, there’s a painful comfort in knowing that someone is waiting for you, no matter how long you take. 

Why is that?

Why is what?

Why is there comfort and why is it painful?

Because that’s how a man knows he’s returned home.  That’s how he reminds himself that he has a home, a place of rest and recuperation.  A place of belonging.  That’s the comfort.  And it’s painful because he knows he’s got to leave his home, his lover’s bed, sooner or later, briefly or lengthily. 

(I feel the truth of what he’s said and it is arresting.  For a while, there is no where I can move to and no thought that hurries in for my attention.  I’m just transfixed in the realization that all of life is a series of leaving home and returning). 

You know, one of the perks of being dead, or should I say, non-physical, is that I can actually read people’s minds.  Well, not exactly but I do have a more accurate sense of what’s going on in their heads.  It’s certainly better than when I was in physical form.

Are you trying to tell me that you can read my mind?  Have been reading my mind?

No, I haven’t been reading your mind.  Why make my time with you boring?  Che!  But, when you fell into that long silence just now, I tuned in and yes, I pretty much saw what you were thinking.  I’m making no apologies for it so please don’t expect me to.

(Smiling) You know, I’m actually flattered that you’d take the trouble with me!!!  I mean, who am I for you to take an interest in!

Okay, so you must understand what a moron is.  I’m not a moron.  The fact that I’ve spent the last hour or so talking to you should at least explain that I think you’re worth talking to.  And if you’re worth talking to, then surely it’s worth knowing what you’re thinking especially when you fall into an uncharacteristic silence like you just did.

Yes, yes, I know, silence with you is not uncharacteristic.  Okay, let’s make this simple.  I was getting bored listening to myself, so I tuned in to you to hear what was going on in your head.  Okay?  Does that satisfy you?

(Smiling) Sure.  To tell the truth, anything you say would satisfy me.

Hmm… another dangerous point of view but I’ll let it pass for now.  I’m more interested in your realization.

My realization?

Yes, that life is a series of leaving home and returning.

(Nodding my head) Yeah, it is, I’ve come to realize. 

And how does that make you feel?

Don’t you know?  I mean, you’ve tuned in after all!

Oh, hey, I don’t stay tuned in longer than I need to or want to.  It’s much more fun hearing your voice and hearing what you have to say.

But I’ve not been speaking, not with my mouth.

Yes, but your mental voice is a lot like your physical voice, only with a bit of echo.  There’s plenty of empty space (ha ha ha) between your ears, you know.

You are quite a tease. (I’m laughing)

I like you.  You’ve got what it takes.

To do what?

To be human. 

You know, for some reason that sounds really bizarre.  *I’ve got what it takes to be human*.  It kinda suggests that there’s a possibility I might not have been human, that I might have been a glow worm or a piece of igneous rock or something. 

(Nodding and chewing) You got that right.

You’re being serious, aren’t you?

Dead.  You know when people are sick?  When they get really sick and fade in and out of consciousness?  They’re making deals with their souls.  They’re deciding whether they want to continue in physical form or not and what kind of physical form too.

How do you know that?

I’ve been there myself.  And since being non-physical, I’ve been tuning in to people who’ve been in the process of making deals.  And besides, when I was treating sick people, I could sense it then too.

This is spinning me out.  I mean, why would a person choose to be an igneous rock or an ant?  And by choosing it, would they have to settle for the expected life span too?  I mean, a rock is gonna be around for a heck of a long time and an ant is gonna get trampled on or sprayed into oblivion pretty quickly.

Oh dear, now you’re actually starting to get boring.  I’m sorry, perhaps I’ve dealt with these questions to death that they’re all pretty much textbook information.  Entirely boring facts.  So please excuse me if I’d rather talk about something else right now.  Perhaps another day, if you can catch me in my sleep, I’ll be able to give you all your answers without losing sleep over it (like my irony???). 

Right now, though, I’m still curious about your realization.  How do you feel about the realization that life is about leaving home and returning again and again and again until perhaps you get tired of it all and you decide to pull the plug from the physical world? 

How do you feel about that?

You know, Che, this is what I find interesting – the fact that I don’t think it’s a big deal.  When you first said it and when I first realized it, it seemed like such a revelation, a big Wow.  But now, it just seems pretty ho-hum, you know? 

Yeah, we’re constantly leaving some place comfortable and moving toward some place less comfortable, new, different etcetera.  After a while, it gets comfortable and we move again and so on and so on.  (Shrugging my shoulders). Yep, that’s what happens.  It’s been happening from day one and will continue to.  I’m afraid I don’t find anything mouth-wateringly exciting about that.  Mundane, almost.

You might need to read something I wrote about existence.  

Why?

Because I think that this is one thing you really need to get excited about.  The purpose of being human. 

Are you saying that the purpose of being human is to…leave and return home again and again?  And I get that you might be speaking metaphorically.

Let me just direct you to what I wrote back in 72. 

You were dead in 72. 

I was non-physical in 72, yes.  And now, in 2011, I’m writing, che?  Or at least, speaking, che?

A conversation with Che

The world doesn’t need a hero.  People don’t need heroes.  They need heroic ideas and ideals.

But a hero inspires people, motivates them, gives them the courage to do what they would ordinarily not dare and to hope for and aspire to what they ordinarily would never think to do.

Yes, a hero does that but all such heroes are short lived.  Sooner or later, they die or people get disenchanted with them.  Or they themselves change.

Did you?

Always.  I became more impassioned, more extreme, more intolerant.  And few could keep up with that.  I’m not even sure that I did.  But sometimes, you get on a trajectory and its momentum gives you little chance of escape or pause.  

Which is why the only hero worth having, the only hero that will outlast any other hero and that you can personally hold to account, is the hero within you.  That’s what people need – the awakening of the hero within themselves.

But you have to be careful and understand this well.  Such a hero doesn’t match the fairy-tale images that people are so romantically and helplessly drawn to.  On the contrary, the hero within is ambiguous, difficult to pin down at times and at other times, blindingly clear and impassioned.  

Can you live with such a hero?  Are you ready to go to battle under his or her direction?  Will you be prepared to go to bed with him or her every single night no matter how badly she has behaved or how mad she has caused you to feel?  That’s a question that you really need to answer if you are serious about heroes.

So, were you your own hero?  

How can I say?  Sometimes, it felt like I knew exactly who my hero was.  There was no confusion.  But, at times I had to be the hero and he had to lie down and take orders from me.  Now that was confusing.

You cannot be serious, right?

I am deadly serious (laughing).  You see, this is our problem.  This has been our problem since the beginning of time.  We want clear cut distinctions.  We want black or white but nothing in between.  We want precision, exactly this or exactly that.  We cannot, simply cannot tolerate ambiguity, plurality.  It’s always got to be this or that.

And that’s bad? 

Of course it’s bad!  The world isn’t made that way.  Heroes aren’t built that way.  We are children if we cannot wake up from our fairy tales and take on the world as it really is.  And until we do, it’s going to piss on us and we’re going to keep hating it for doing that.  You see, we can’t stand the smell of our own piss.

I don’t know what to think.  I’m a little upset.  I don’t know exactly why but I guess I expected something better, grander, earth-shattering, the ultimate, irrefutable answer, I guess, though to be honest, I don’t think I even had a question to start with (shaking my head, feeling lost and puzzled).

Let me try and put some perspective here.  You thought I was and wanted me to be the hero, the one with the answer to everything, the god-answer.  The answer that would once and for all and for ever put an end to any kind of questioning and doubt.  An answer you would know with every fiber in your muscles was the ultimate truth.  You expected that from me.

And my qualification for this?  For being able to, in your estimation, provide such an answer?  That I was a hero once upon a time and, yes, let’s face it, I still am to some.  So, in your mind, a hero must have the ultimate answer, the ultimate truth.  Oh, and I forgot to mention. 

There is another reason why you expected me to have this god-answer.  The simple, perhaps sometimes overlooked fact that I am dead.  Well, at least physically dead.  And for some reason, in your mind, dead people have answers that living people don’t seem to have.  

Look, I know this may sound like I’m having a go at you and I’ll be lying if I said I wasn’t but teasing aside, it’s true.  Many people believe that dead people have answers to difficult questions that physically alive people don’t seem to have.

Perhaps (drawing on his cigar), they believe that dead people have access to god or greater access to god and I know that for you, god is the all-encompassing source of all there is including or should I say, which is really all the information that is and ever was and ever will be.

So, yes, if you believe that dead people have greater access to god, then of course it makes sense that you would expect dead people, or at least certain dead persons to have all the answers and the god-answer.  It makes sense, let’s not fart-arse around that.

Yep, you’re right.  That’s exactly how it is.  But, Che, the strange thing is I don’t even know why I started talking to you.  I mean, what did I think I would gain by talking to you?  But I can tell you this:  I wanted to.  It wasn’t something that I’d thought about or planned.  Perhaps I was just drawn into your field.

Does it matter?  Do you have to know why?  Isn’t it enough that we’re having this conversation?  You know how many people would give their finger nails for this?  I mean have them painfully extracted from….

I get the picture (smiling) and yes, I know how amazing it is to be able to have you all to myself but that’s why I want to make sure I don’t squander this opportunity, you know?  I mean, if there was something really important, really deep and meaningful that I wanted to talk to you about and I’m unable to because I’ve forgotten what it was, oh for crying out loud, that would be…

Hey, listen.  Sometimes, you got to remember that the open ended conversation can be the most revealing and revolutionary conversation because you have a wide, open Havana that you can explore in any direction, not just one or two, you know?

Yes, I do.  And, of course, it’s silly that I seem to have dismissed the value of the conversation we’ve had so far.  I mean, it really is amazing. 

Hmm…(chewing on his cigar).

I know, you’re thinking that there’s so much I already know but…I don’t know, you think that despite knowing all that I do, I’m still looking to you for some kind of confirmation or further revelation…I don’t know…perhaps I’m finding what I know just a little too bland, not enough sizzle and pop, you know?  I mean, the world must have an infinitely grander meaning and purpose and explanation than what I seem to have, you know?  

 

Actually, that was not at all what I was thinking though I agree, it would make our struggle and suffering and angst worth it if the purpose was well, mind-blowing, if you like.

So what were you thinking?

How cigars taste the same here as they did where you are.

(Smiling silently)

We both are, smiling silently, that is, contented with our conversation.  I, of course, am wondering if I’ll chat with him again.  I’m still plagued by physical world realities like access (would such a prominent person have time for me?), self-esteem (would he want to speak again with a ‘nobody’ like me?) and purpose (would I find it useful talking to him now that he’s pretty much told me that that there are no mind-blowing answers).

Yes, yes and yes, he says.

Isn't attachment such a curse?

/ 

I was at a Thrift shop a couple of days ago and happened to notice this mounted photograph.  My heart leaped with joy as I savored the sweet sentiment and rustic setting of this simply charming composition.

I had to have it in my home where I could enjoy it over and over again, so I was only too pleased to part with $4!  Now if that isn't a bargain :)

This last week has been a week of exceptional accomplishment for me.  I finally got round to going through several boxes of my 'possessions' from almost four years ago when I last moved house.  They'd been living under my friend, J's worker's cottage.

I was delighted to find almost everything in perfect nick and both thrilled and dismayed at the sight of all my books (over 10 boxes of them).  Thrilled to reconnect with 'old friends' and dismayed at the thought of having to part with them again.  I simply don't have the room in my tiny studio apartment.  And, to be fair, there were a few of them that I was actually ready to let go.

So, J and I took some of those books along with a whole heap of clothes, plates, glasses, cups and crockery and other bric-a-brac to the Salvos.  I've got a couple of boxes of books that I've saved for a friend of mine as I know she'll enjoy them.  They are mostly on personal and spiritual development - books that have served me well over many years.

I still have about 3 boxes of books that I'm not quite ready to part with and I'm vacillating between keeping them (but where or where???) and giving them to one or other of those Opportunity Shops (isn't that the most gorgeous name???  Although, sadly, it's often abbreviated to Op shops which kinda makes us forget what they really are!). 

I must admit that as each day passes, I feel stronger about letting them go too especially when I think they could land in the hands of people who would really get something from them (as I have).

Do you have possessions from a previous life that you find hard to part with?  What are they?  And what have you done about it?

PS  Have you checked out my 'newish' blog with my pictures and poems including a couple of digital paintings that I've done?  Right here :)

And what's it got to do with the price of cantaloupes?

I love books.  I love touching them, smelling them, leafing through then, looking at them, buying them, keeping them, seeing them pile up on my coffee table or neatly organized on my bookshelf, discovering them, feeling them around me and reading them.

I have been so enriched by the books I've read.  There is almost no book that I've read where I've felt it was a waste of time.  I almost always find something, no matter how insignificant or incidental, that causes me to think a little more, a little farther, a little deeper, a little wider.

Right now, as I'm writing this, my head's brimming with thoughts about my relationship with books and I'm finding it a little daunting just trying to keep track of them and share them in some coherent, easy-to-read way.  Perhaps it's best if I just write them as they stream through....

When I was a kid, my family was too poor to afford books for me and my siblings.  It was a challenge enough just getting us our school books.  So I found myself reading over and over again, this one torn and tattered, hand-me-down book about families and children which had a few black and white photographs in it.  How I cherished that book! 

There was one picture that I can still see so vividly in my mind.  It was a picture of a boy and his little sister holding hands in this wonderful, blurred field.  The boy had his face lifted and the girl had light through her hair.  They looked so happy.  I must've spent hours looking at that picture, often wistfully.  Yes, a child of three or four can be wistful especially if it's made to grow up in a domestic world of violence and rejection.

I remember pointing to that picture and imploring my brother, 4 years older than me, 'Why can't we be like that?'.  What I meant was, why couldn't he be loving toward me so that we could be happy just like those kids.

You see, my brother was very mean to me and remained mean to me for the best part of twenty-odd years.  My offense?  Being born, I suppose, and usurping his position within the family.

In truth, his position was never threatened as he continued to remain the 'pet' son and child long, long into his adulthood.  But I can appreciate how he could have felt threatened.

For my part, I was deeply hurt that I could be so loathed and by implication, so loathsome!  I believe it was something that I carried well into my adulthood as well.  Sheesh!

These days, with life experiences that have both tortured and healed us, we have discovered the deep love that was always there between us.  It is a love that is expressed in gentle ways, like keeping in touch, listening to each others woes, not often but when it happens, it takes the form of true, deep listening where we just want to be present to each other and where we instinctively feel that we are there for each other.

That's precious.  And, if you haven't already wondered or noticed, not got a quiver of a thing to do with books and my relationship with them which is where I started this post.  At least, not in any obvious way.  Ah, but that's a typical TB post now, isn't it ??? :)

Books on my coffee table

A Self-Interview and some Invitations

So my dear blog friend, Dieter of Confessions of a Wannabe Writer was just too kind and mentioned me as one of the 4 people he'd like to participate in this Self-Interview (which I think was started by another blogger).

Just being mentioned on his blog (which incidentally has over 140 followers - compare that to my paltry 19...sheesh...) was already a wonderful surprise for me.  But to be invited to do this self-interview was like a Christmas gift that wasn't thrown in with the rest but time-picked to arrive just now... :)  Thanks ever so much Dieter, you're a sweet, sweet friend )

I generally find interview questions about your favorite this and that painfully tedious and limiting...I mean, it would take me forever to give meaningful answers and most people don't appear to be too interested in *meaningful* answers.

I could be wrong of course, but it seems to be that *meaningful* answers don't compete too well with tiny, speck-sized, tweetified snap, crackle and pop word sprays that people can snatch glimpses of (rather than actually read) in-between their email, the latest celebrity gossip, text messages and updates on their ebay bids. 

But the questions in this  Self-Interview  interested me enough to want to take my time and answer them as meaningfully as I could.  And that, if nothing else, has served their purpose.  If you happen to enjoy reading my responses, that would be bonus.

But now that the easy part is done, I have the job of inviting 4 other bloggers to do the same Self-Interview.

Who shall I choose from my meager list of followers and even leaner list of commenters?  Not a lot of choice, I'm afraid as Dieter  has already done his and Will of Gay Arab Guy has already been 'tagged'.

But, I believe I can just make the number by asking the next most frequent commenters on my blog.  Folks, forgive me if this feels like I've no one else to choose.  In one sense, that's true.

But, it's also true that  what you've already shared interests me enough to care to know more about you.  So, if you please, do indulge me and the readers of this blog :)  Many thanks in advance.


Frank's Musings and Prose
Mark of Success
Freedom and Flourishing
Margs Animals

Frank, Mark, Winton and Marg, hope you enjoy doing this Self-Interview as much as I did!

And now, my responses :)
 
1. If you have pets, do you see them as merely animals, or are they members of your family?

I wonder if they would consider me a member of their family!  My 'pet' dog (my cat got run over last year) is one of my best mates.  We co-habit.  We have agreements and understandings and compromises.  I've learned that she deserves respect just like anyone else I know and over the years (5 now), we've really got to know each other more deeply.  Hmm...I guess that answers that question :)

2. If you can have a dream to come true, what would it be?

Hey, I've got so many dreams it's hard to pick just one for this survey.  But since I have to, I'll tell you one.  Just remember that it is one of many and it is one that I've chosen to mention in this moment in time.  Give me a couple more minutes and it could well be a different one.

I'd like to meet my blog friends in their own country, hang out with them in their favorite places, eat their favorite food and do some of the things that they'd do when I'm not around.

Dieter (and Will) watch out!!!! :)

3. What is the one thing most hated by you?

Oh no, do you really want me to tell you?  You'll probably be cheesed off as  most people don't seem to give it a second thought.  But...here it is:

Loose hair (especially wet hair), on the floor, on my clothes, on my skin and horrors of all horrors, in my food.  It's the sort of thing that I would throw up on and have done...Sorry, but it's almost like a phobia.

4. What would you do with a billion dollars?

First, I'd pay off all my debts (to the friends who've kindly lent me money) and then give them at least $2000 more each.  I'd take them (and other good friends) on a cruise to some idyllic part of the world, perhaps Greece or Scotland or Finland.

I'd buy gifts for my children and family and friends.  I'd say: Get anything over $500 and go as high as you want to.

I'd book trips to various parts of the world for up to 3 years and spend time in each destination getting to know the locals and their lifestyle.

I'd get in contact with people in social and humanitarian organizations that I feel I can trust and seek their advice on how best I can help both in cash and kind.

I'd hire someone to help me promote my music and my writing so that I can influence people much more widely than I'm currently able to.

I'd buy homes in England, Europe (probably Italy but it might be Spain), America (probably California) and South America (where it's more cool than hot).  I'd spend time in these homes when I'm taking a break from my musical/spiritual tours and I'd encourage friends and people that I get to know in my humanitarian work to stay in them when I'm not there.

I'd fund people who truly wish to innovate our economic, housing and education systems and work directly with them.

I'd go to some of the big music festivals around the world and spend time work-shopping with some of my favorite musicians.

Well, these are some of the big ticket items... :)

5. What helps to pull you out of a bad mood?

Remembering what a waste of time and energy it is and remembering how easy it is to shift my attention to something desirable (like my ideal partner or what I'd do if I had a billion dollars.... and how much more pleasurable that would be :) )

6. Which is more blessed, loving someone or being loved by someone?

I don't know about being loved by someone but I do know about feeling loved and that is a wonderful, wonderful feeling.  Loving someone is equally wonderful.  That said, I feel I've still got a lot to learn about truly loving someone unconditionally, freely and for the sheer heck of it!

7. What is your bedtime routine?

Honestly?  Well, when I don't crash next to my laptop, I would change into my PJs, brush my teeth, wash my face (presuming I've already showered earlier), put some moisturizer on my face and my arms and body, drink a glass of water, finger comb my hair (actually I kinda massage my scalp), do a little bit of stretching and bending, take my clothes off (in summer) and get under the sheets. 

Then I lie down thinking about all the things that I'm grateful for in the day just gone and think of all the things I want for myself (if I haven't already fallen asleep).

8. If you are currently in a relationship, how did you meet your partner?

Sadly, I am not in a relationship but if anyone has any ideas how I might get into one, do let me know :)

9. If you could watch a creative person in the act of the creative process, who would it be?

Oh my goodness, haven't I thought of this often  - Jeff Beck, Chris Martin, Sean Penn, Pranav Mistry, Deepak Chopra, Seth Godin, people from TED,  Oberto Arraudi, the lady who has a blog about 'big women' and has the most gorgeous paintings of them (Looking at them, I sometimes think I wouldn't mind being big lol) and some of those amazing photographers and... children!!!!  Sorry, I should pick one. I'd go with kids.

10. What kinds of books do you read?

Right now, I'm reading a book, How To Get Lucky by Max  Gunther and Life After Death by Deepak Chopra.  Before that, I read King Arthur and the Bloody Cup by MK Hume and I'm frequently dipping into Notes from the Universe by Mike Dooley, Manifest your Dreams by Abraham through Esther and Jerry Hicks, poetry by Rumi, Tagore and Walt Whitman.

11. How would you see yourself in ten years time?

 If this means what I think I'd be like in ten years time, I think I'd be very fulfilled,  very free, excited and exciting, devoting much more of my time to helping people in whatever way I can especially through my music, writing and raising spiritual awareness and altogether having the time of my life.

12. What’s your fear?

I have sooooooooooooo many - snakes, forgetting my keys when I leave my unit, being fined for not putting in my tax returns, doing my tax returns and any kind of paper work (it's more a loathing than a fear) , my laptop freezing, not having internet access and would you believe....dressing just too perfectly!  Sheesh!

13. Would you give up all junk food for the rest of your life for the opportunity to visit outer space?

 If that was the deal, I'd certainly give it a shot.  Then again, I'm not much of a junkie...the rare bag of crisps is about as bad as it gets. (I think!)

14. Would you rather be single and rich or married, but poor?

 OMG is this a trick question????  Definitely single and rich with plenty of opportunity to be in a loving relationship :)  Marriage can be such a kill joy!

15. What’s the first thing you do when you wake up?

Try to remember my dreams in detail if I've had one that I have some memory of.  Think how wonderful it is to have another day to have an adventure with and then go to my lap top and check my mail.  Actually, no, I think the first thing I do is check the time on my watch :)

16. If you could change one thing about your spouse/partner what would it be?

Since I don't have one, I can't really answer that.

17. If you could pick a new name for yourself, what would it be?

Something like Starwalker or Moondance or Moodflower or InSync or Freedom or Joy but probably in a nicer sounding language like French or Spanish or Italian or Sanskrit.

18. Would you forgive and forget no matter how horrible a thing that special someone has done?

I'd do my darndest simply because holding on to anything horrible just hurts me.

19. If you could only eat one thing for the next 6 months, what would it be?

Should I be wise or impulsive here?  Wise answer - ricotta cheese.  Impulsive answer - salt and vinegar chips (Isn't that weird given that I rarely do junk food???)

Have we been robbed of an education?

I decided to do my Masters when I thought that I wanted to spend the rest of my working life in academia. Fact was, I really didn't have the imagination or the courage (and I do think there's a strong correlation between the two) to fashion a different career path for myself.  I'd been teaching and so naturally assumed that teaching was all I could do or even wanted to do.  Sheesh!

Don't get me wrong.  I love the process of taking information and repackaging it so it becomes easy and fun for others to handle.  That is creative work.  But I felt incredibly stifled in an education system that force fed students (I taught both teenagers and adults) a curriculum that I personally could not justify (as one kid who was taking acting classes out of school made me realize and not for the first time either: 'Miss, how is trigonometry going to help me?)

But this was only one part of a multi-faceted fiasco.  How do you teach a class of twenty odd adolescents who turn up everyday bearing the bruises of domestic mismanagement, parental apathy or compensatory overindulgence  and a frightening variety of other parental/domestic inaptitudes, not to mention of course, their hormonally driven obsession with identity, independence, impressions and shag-meistering?

If I had my way, the core curriculum I'd have for children for the 12 years of schooling that they do would be The Art and Science of Happiness, Health and Prosperity.  Nothing would equip them better for life.  After all, don't we spend most of our adulthood struggling to get just the basics of these right while suffering the consequences of our recurring failures?

Maths, Science, History, Geography, Literature, Music, Art, Economics and Languages would be offered as electives to those who showed good progress in the core curriculum.  Needless to say, teachers would learn a heck of a lot about Happiness, Health and Prosperity themselves by having to teach (hopefully by modeling) them.  And wouldn't that be a boon for all of society?

Oh dear, you'll never believe this but I was actually going to write on a topic in my list of topics I'd said I'd write about (which was in this post).  And  what was that?  It was about the crush that we didn't know we had.  Who?  My Masters/PhD supervisor and I.  You see, it was all related but obviously, I got side-tracked somewhat.  I will write about it in due course, though :)

Anyway, the subject of this post is important too.  I mean, as far as I'm concerned, the core skills that a person needs to have are the skills to be happy, healthy and prosperous.  And if they can't learn this in the 12 years that they spend at school, I reckon they're being robbed of an education.  What do you think?