I don't usually like reflecting on things because my reflections are usually quite ugly (and that's not just the mirror kind - who said that?) But of late I've allowed Hervor to drag me along on some of her reflections and they were so extreme that it caused me to review my own year.
Clearly it hasn't been as strange as Hervor's, and although I can't remember most of it, what I do recall has been strange enough. And for the greater part of it I lay the blame at Hervor's feet.
For the first time ever, Curtainman and I shared house with other people (ie Hervor and the Everlovin'). The arrangement lasted for several months and I think all four of us were not only astonished by the peculiar benefits (mainly, our eating became healthier - I think it was the vegetarian in our midst that did it) but by the fact that none of us wanted to commit murder - well if they did, they kept their weapons well hidden.
My sedentary lifestyle took another turn when the Little's and I began joining Hervor for her morning constitutional. This early morning walk has turned into a bit of an addiction - to the point where we are arising for a 4am start and will consider any walk up to 10kms. This coming from someone who thought exercise was rolling over in bed, is as close to a miracle as I'm ever likely to get.
The Little's love their morning constitutional to the point that they are willing to become the alarm if necessary. The trip from the bedroom to where they are harnessed gives them every opportunity to turn themselves inside out with tail-wagging, howling, joy
Note: This occured about 2 years ago but I just found the post and enjoyed the reflecting.Oh how things have changed since then,,,but that's another story.
Monday, October 15, 2012
Strange Powers
I can make a grown man duck but I can't make him weave.
I don't know what it is about me that can make grown men duck when they see me coming. I'm polite but I don't stand chewing people's ears off - anytime - when they're in a hurry or not. Perhaps it's the opposite problem after all I'm not the greatest conversationalist in the world or even in my neighbourhood. I find I have very little in common with those who surround me. In fact I generally have very little in common with myself. I know this because I don't often have interesting discussions with myself - I spend more time in fight mode; shall I get up (stands up) what am I doing standing up (sits back down). I find myself spending an increasing amount of time watching TV standing up and I don't know why...that's just the way it is I guess.
Anyway back to making grown men duck...
I was out walking my dogs when in a flick of an eye I saw my neighbour see me and duck behind his hedge. Now this person is a super friendly...a person who says hello to everyone...just not me apparently. I don't know, maybe he's seen me ducking from him....I'm not a super friendly, I'm more of a withdrawn.To me when I know someone is a withdrawn I seem to get pleasure out of saying hello to them. I guess it's because I know I'm not going to be held up in the supermarket for hours by that person but I get to interact with them anyway. Still to each his own and at least I know I have the power to make people duck...now I just need to learn the power to make them weave and I might get some awesome artwork out of them.
I don't know what it is about me that can make grown men duck when they see me coming. I'm polite but I don't stand chewing people's ears off - anytime - when they're in a hurry or not. Perhaps it's the opposite problem after all I'm not the greatest conversationalist in the world or even in my neighbourhood. I find I have very little in common with those who surround me. In fact I generally have very little in common with myself. I know this because I don't often have interesting discussions with myself - I spend more time in fight mode; shall I get up (stands up) what am I doing standing up (sits back down). I find myself spending an increasing amount of time watching TV standing up and I don't know why...that's just the way it is I guess.
Anyway back to making grown men duck...
I was out walking my dogs when in a flick of an eye I saw my neighbour see me and duck behind his hedge. Now this person is a super friendly...a person who says hello to everyone...just not me apparently. I don't know, maybe he's seen me ducking from him....I'm not a super friendly, I'm more of a withdrawn.To me when I know someone is a withdrawn I seem to get pleasure out of saying hello to them. I guess it's because I know I'm not going to be held up in the supermarket for hours by that person but I get to interact with them anyway. Still to each his own and at least I know I have the power to make people duck...now I just need to learn the power to make them weave and I might get some awesome artwork out of them.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Amor Fati
Amor fati is a concept that is currently flooding my life. A wonderful and positive concept, I often find it difficult to relate to. It goes as follows:
Amor fati is a Latin phrase loosely translating to "love of fate" or "love of one's fate". It is used to describe an attitude in which one sees everything that happens in one's life, including suffering and loss, as good. Moreover, it is characterized by an acceptance of the events or situations that occur in one's life.
Wikipedia
Some people find comfort in it and I try, I really do, but my brain often drowns optimism with reality. For example, if I had lost my right leg, I may take comfort in the smaller things like my right shoe never did fit properly or that it constantly wore out before my left shoe did; or that when I buy a pair of socks they will last twice as long. The problem with such optimism is it still doesn't outweigh the fact that I've actually lost the ability to walk - unless I buy a very expensive prosthesis (which I'd still have to learn how to use etc).
Even knowing that I could get a 'peg leg' and have that most authentic visual countenance for Talk like a Pirate Day, isn't much of a replacement for the loss of a leg. However, should WWIII come calling and those missing a limb don't have to participate, spectate, OR be affected by it in any other way (ie lose loved ones etc) then it might be a blessing in disguise. This possibility is unlikely to happen; or is that my pessimism/realism shining through?
It leaves me disheartened to know that our interests which roam far and wide (but apparently centralise around sex and porn) have ignored philosophers such as Voltaire, who pointed out some 250yrs ago, the folly of such concepts. These concepts continue to prosper and are money-spinners for those that prey on pessimists and realists (like me) .
There is no doubt that optimism is a skill worth marvelling and drooling over as life for those who possess it is clearly easier and more joyful, but having to spend many waking hours trying to teach myself to look at things more positively is torturous enough to send me scuttling to bed for an extended period of recuperation.
What happens to those optimists? Usually they die - like the rest of us, but did they lead happier lives? Clearly they had a greater number of disappointments than pessimists as pessimists don't expect success, but with amor fati in their corner our friendly neighbourhood optimists probably felt at the very least that there was a lesson to be learnt.
And that is probably why I've never learnt to be an optimist. Whilst I understand the theory, putting knowledge into practice is often a hit and miss affair. Even if I know the potential pitfalls, sometimes I seemingly leap into said pits with such gusto (probably one of the few times I possess that outrageously expensive commodity known as energy) that it could be conceived that I'm trying to injure myself - and indeed doing so, often confirms my realistic/pessimistic attitude.
I think I hear Joseph "Catch 22" Heller calling me.
Amor fati is a Latin phrase loosely translating to "love of fate" or "love of one's fate". It is used to describe an attitude in which one sees everything that happens in one's life, including suffering and loss, as good. Moreover, it is characterized by an acceptance of the events or situations that occur in one's life.
Wikipedia
Some people find comfort in it and I try, I really do, but my brain often drowns optimism with reality. For example, if I had lost my right leg, I may take comfort in the smaller things like my right shoe never did fit properly or that it constantly wore out before my left shoe did; or that when I buy a pair of socks they will last twice as long. The problem with such optimism is it still doesn't outweigh the fact that I've actually lost the ability to walk - unless I buy a very expensive prosthesis (which I'd still have to learn how to use etc).
Even knowing that I could get a 'peg leg' and have that most authentic visual countenance for Talk like a Pirate Day, isn't much of a replacement for the loss of a leg. However, should WWIII come calling and those missing a limb don't have to participate, spectate, OR be affected by it in any other way (ie lose loved ones etc) then it might be a blessing in disguise. This possibility is unlikely to happen; or is that my pessimism/realism shining through?
It leaves me disheartened to know that our interests which roam far and wide (but apparently centralise around sex and porn) have ignored philosophers such as Voltaire, who pointed out some 250yrs ago, the folly of such concepts. These concepts continue to prosper and are money-spinners for those that prey on pessimists and realists (like me) .
There is no doubt that optimism is a skill worth marvelling and drooling over as life for those who possess it is clearly easier and more joyful, but having to spend many waking hours trying to teach myself to look at things more positively is torturous enough to send me scuttling to bed for an extended period of recuperation.
What happens to those optimists? Usually they die - like the rest of us, but did they lead happier lives? Clearly they had a greater number of disappointments than pessimists as pessimists don't expect success, but with amor fati in their corner our friendly neighbourhood optimists probably felt at the very least that there was a lesson to be learnt.
And that is probably why I've never learnt to be an optimist. Whilst I understand the theory, putting knowledge into practice is often a hit and miss affair. Even if I know the potential pitfalls, sometimes I seemingly leap into said pits with such gusto (probably one of the few times I possess that outrageously expensive commodity known as energy) that it could be conceived that I'm trying to injure myself - and indeed doing so, often confirms my realistic/pessimistic attitude.
I think I hear Joseph "Catch 22" Heller calling me.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Where's My Miracle!
If you have the sound up, most times it's unnecessary to be able to see the television to know what's going on. However, there are times when it is absolutely necessary to have the power of sight while watching TV.
An example of this occurred yesterday when, while my vision was otherwise occupied (I had my eyes closed - something I do a lot whilst watching TV), I just happened to hear that if you bought Jesus, you could get Moses for free.
Bargain! I don't know how much god's usually go for, but you know it's going to be a bargain when a Prophet is thrown in for free.
But wait there's more!
I waited for them to tell me what else I could get if I bought now. If they were selling Jesus and giving a Moses away for free, what else could they add. I held my breath. The clincher on this deal would have to be nothing short of a miracle.
When they told me I was crestfallen. They weren't throwing in a miracle, but merely discounting Jesus - they were taking a $1 off him. If I bought him 'now' he would only cost me $19.95. Still, not a bad price for a god (and the bonus Prophet of course).
I opened my eyes to see what magnificent shape Jesus took and woe-behold Jesus in a DVD case. Who knew he'd fit in one of those? They're tiny!
An example of this occurred yesterday when, while my vision was otherwise occupied (I had my eyes closed - something I do a lot whilst watching TV), I just happened to hear that if you bought Jesus, you could get Moses for free.
Bargain! I don't know how much god's usually go for, but you know it's going to be a bargain when a Prophet is thrown in for free.
But wait there's more!
I waited for them to tell me what else I could get if I bought now. If they were selling Jesus and giving a Moses away for free, what else could they add. I held my breath. The clincher on this deal would have to be nothing short of a miracle.
When they told me I was crestfallen. They weren't throwing in a miracle, but merely discounting Jesus - they were taking a $1 off him. If I bought him 'now' he would only cost me $19.95. Still, not a bad price for a god (and the bonus Prophet of course).
I opened my eyes to see what magnificent shape Jesus took and woe-behold Jesus in a DVD case. Who knew he'd fit in one of those? They're tiny!
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Should I be Worried?
Last night it was cold and so I snuggled under my feather doona while I watched a movie. I fell asleep and when I woke up I jumped on the computer to see what had been happening in the world while I had slept.
Feeling an itch on my shoulder I slid my icy hand beneath my shirt to scratch myself and sensing something beneath my shirt that shouldn't be there, I grabbed it. Withdrawing my hand, I sat staring at downy feather between my fingers.
Strange things had been reported throughout the night but what is stranger than the thought that I'm turning into a bird?
Feeling an itch on my shoulder I slid my icy hand beneath my shirt to scratch myself and sensing something beneath my shirt that shouldn't be there, I grabbed it. Withdrawing my hand, I sat staring at downy feather between my fingers.
Strange things had been reported throughout the night but what is stranger than the thought that I'm turning into a bird?
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Beating on the Kids
The recent study to have caused a stir is the Corporal Punishment for Children issue; should kids be 'smacked' when they transgress?
This issue is as muddy as hell but most proponents in the 'non-smacking' camp seem to think that by denying the child something they like to do is the answer. If 'smacking' (as opposed to outright beating) is considered physical abuse then isn't denying the child the opportunity to do something they like emotional abuse (emotional blackmail)? Why is that considered BETTER than smacking? Because it isn't visible?
I don't claim to know what the answer is, but there is little chance of children's behaviour improving when adults behaviour is so poor. All that lying, cheating, backstabbing corruption, etc that is condoned at ALL levels of society and indeed encouraged (think of Reality TV where the best 'backstabber' wins a million dollars; think the political arena where the best 'talker' [regardless of their REAL ideals] is promoted to the higher political ranks). These are the examples we set for children. WAKE-UP people, your children are largely shaped by society and it's doings.
Think about that the next time you hurry through dinner or rush home so you don't miss any of 'Survivor' or 'Big-Brother'. Are your children seeing your eagerness to watch this incredibly bad behaviour? And it's being rewarded with fame and money.
This issue is as muddy as hell but most proponents in the 'non-smacking' camp seem to think that by denying the child something they like to do is the answer. If 'smacking' (as opposed to outright beating) is considered physical abuse then isn't denying the child the opportunity to do something they like emotional abuse (emotional blackmail)? Why is that considered BETTER than smacking? Because it isn't visible?
I don't claim to know what the answer is, but there is little chance of children's behaviour improving when adults behaviour is so poor. All that lying, cheating, backstabbing corruption, etc that is condoned at ALL levels of society and indeed encouraged (think of Reality TV where the best 'backstabber' wins a million dollars; think the political arena where the best 'talker' [regardless of their REAL ideals] is promoted to the higher political ranks). These are the examples we set for children. WAKE-UP people, your children are largely shaped by society and it's doings.
Think about that the next time you hurry through dinner or rush home so you don't miss any of 'Survivor' or 'Big-Brother'. Are your children seeing your eagerness to watch this incredibly bad behaviour? And it's being rewarded with fame and money.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
The est Obsession.
The TV is on the background and I have just heard them mention the worlds youngest guitar player - or was that ukulele? It got me wondering why people view it as being important to be the 'est' (ie, youngest, oldest, biggest, smallest, longest, highest etc). I consider this phenomena especially strange when attached to totally unrelated pursuits; and that would include the 'est' guitar player (of course this excludes Best as 'est' is not a suffix in this case).
Since a musical instrument is an aural experience, what difference does it make to the listening, whether it is played by the youngest, tallest, widest, person in the world? Contrarily, I would have thought it detracted from the experience as more emphasis would be placed on who was playing rather than how they played.
The est phenomena becomes increasingly ridiculous as the media (or individuals) try harder to create it. For example there was the first solo yacht sail around the world and then there was the first female solo yacht sail, then the youngest solo yacht sail, the youngest female solo yacht sail, then the youngest Australian solo yacht sail...infinitum.
What I want to know is when will the first pink-laced corseted Ethiopian male with 3 fingers missing solo yacht sail will take place. I will be there to wave him on as his sail can be seen on the horizon off Fijian territory - if I can afford to go to Fiji at that particular time.
Since a musical instrument is an aural experience, what difference does it make to the listening, whether it is played by the youngest, tallest, widest, person in the world? Contrarily, I would have thought it detracted from the experience as more emphasis would be placed on who was playing rather than how they played.
The est phenomena becomes increasingly ridiculous as the media (or individuals) try harder to create it. For example there was the first solo yacht sail around the world and then there was the first female solo yacht sail, then the youngest solo yacht sail, the youngest female solo yacht sail, then the youngest Australian solo yacht sail...infinitum.
What I want to know is when will the first pink-laced corseted Ethiopian male with 3 fingers missing solo yacht sail will take place. I will be there to wave him on as his sail can be seen on the horizon off Fijian territory - if I can afford to go to Fiji at that particular time.
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