This morning I was up, out of bed, and walking to the kitchen before I was awake enough to realise I wasn't wearing my customary extra-thick-soled socks; in fact the cruel truth was that I had inadvertently exposed my sensitive tootsies to winter-chilled tiles.
Just as I was reaching for the kettle, I thought that it was probably time my feet learnt to deal with reality. I agreed with myself vigorously all the way back to the bedroom where I immediately donned my beloved socks.
There's nothing like knowing your own mind - except perhaps having your mind know your body; even if they aren't going to involve you in their decision making.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
A Spiritual Cuppa
How does one go about refreshing the spirit/soul/drive or whatever else you want to call that thing that makes us sing...or in my current state, hum dimly in the body somewheres. How do you supply it with that invigorating swim, the refreshing sleep, or even just a lie-down in the sun that will carry it through to the next big rest? Just as mystifying is how or why does it become so worn out and weary?
It seems that while I was sleeping, my spirit waded the Tasman Sea marathon without taking so much as a truckies-kip.
What I need is a Spiritual Cuppa; one that will give my spirit a shot of caffeine - since it's unlikely the Spiritual-grounds will contain traces of speed. That is of course depending on the likelihood of Spiritual-coffee-makers sharing processing facilities with Columbian drug lords or something of similar ilk.
It seems that while I was sleeping, my spirit waded the Tasman Sea marathon without taking so much as a truckies-kip.
What I need is a Spiritual Cuppa; one that will give my spirit a shot of caffeine - since it's unlikely the Spiritual-grounds will contain traces of speed. That is of course depending on the likelihood of Spiritual-coffee-makers sharing processing facilities with Columbian drug lords or something of similar ilk.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Tunnel of Light
I don't know whether my brain works in ways as mysterious as our reported god works, or whether I just take different side roads to most people, but it's rare that I relate so completely to someone.
It was on a walk in the bush that revealed the similarities between the path of Hervor's life and my own (and at that point it could be construed both literally and figuratively). We spoke of our new jobs etc, as we have both recently undergone a period of unemployment, the rigours of job hunting, and the adaptation necessary to blend into the new work place. However, it was when Hervor mentioned a conversation she'd recently had with someone that I was struck by the similarities: How often do you get the chance to speak to someone that has died? Or more importantly, speak to someone ABOUT that death experience. It just so happens that both of us recently had the opportunity to do that very thing.
As we compared notes, it was revealed that both people that had experienced death had died of a heart attack. Neither had a prior history or family history of any heart problems.
It was at this point that the shared path Hervor and I were on, diverged. Hervor's respondent came away from the experience believing that there was absolutely nothing after death, where as mine emerged from the experience convinced that there was definitely something although she couldn't determine exactly what. However, neither of them experienced the famed Tunnel of Light phenomena.
If on the off chance life lessons were to be taken from our conversations of flatlining, it would seem that the synchronicity is over and Hervor and I are headed in opposite directions - either that or what we're going to find when we get there is very different.
It was on a walk in the bush that revealed the similarities between the path of Hervor's life and my own (and at that point it could be construed both literally and figuratively). We spoke of our new jobs etc, as we have both recently undergone a period of unemployment, the rigours of job hunting, and the adaptation necessary to blend into the new work place. However, it was when Hervor mentioned a conversation she'd recently had with someone that I was struck by the similarities: How often do you get the chance to speak to someone that has died? Or more importantly, speak to someone ABOUT that death experience. It just so happens that both of us recently had the opportunity to do that very thing.
As we compared notes, it was revealed that both people that had experienced death had died of a heart attack. Neither had a prior history or family history of any heart problems.
It was at this point that the shared path Hervor and I were on, diverged. Hervor's respondent came away from the experience believing that there was absolutely nothing after death, where as mine emerged from the experience convinced that there was definitely something although she couldn't determine exactly what. However, neither of them experienced the famed Tunnel of Light phenomena.
If on the off chance life lessons were to be taken from our conversations of flatlining, it would seem that the synchronicity is over and Hervor and I are headed in opposite directions - either that or what we're going to find when we get there is very different.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Transmogrification and other idiosyncrasies
As writers try to put a new twist on things, some have turned to pitting one transmogrifier against another, or making them allies - most commonly the vampire and the werewolf. Although there are other transmogrifiers such as shapeshifters, they aren't as popular as the vampire and the werewolf. This might be because once they've 'transformed', they don't necessarily retain any human features and are indistinguishable from the 'real' thing. Or perhaps the creature into which they transmogrify is just unromantic.
An example of this is P'an Hu, the dog-man from Chinese folklore. In western culture, dogs don't evoke the same connotations as wolves. When dogs are spoken of, there just isn't that air of mystery and wildness that is associated with wolves. Perhaps it's because the term dog includes all domesticated canines and it's hardly surprising that the image of a chihuahua with head held high baying at the moon doesn't stir the same emotion as a similar image of the wolf.
What about the ursine counterparts - the werebear - of Native American culture? The bear is a mighty creature, bested only by a man with a gun (or equivalent weapon) or nature herself. Not as agile as the wolf, the bear doesn't really need to be; when was the last time a wolf was witnessed knocking down a large sapling? But then, for some odd reason, once transformed into a 'werewolf' the beast assumes strengths attributable to neither of its originating species.
Perhaps the reason the werebear doesn't make it big in western culture is because the name is a bit too close to Care-Bears. However, one must ask the obvious question there; what could be scarier than a CareWereBear - a creature with a supernaturally powerful caring nature. Certainly the thought of a bone-crushing hug would be enough to frighten off the most determined of enemies (or maybe that was CareWearBear - trousers that take care not to chafe the parts that make us growl).
If not a werebear, then I suppose there is less likelihood of a werepig being successful. Although reality would ensure it was an extremely frightening experience, the idea of being chased through woods by a seemingly unathletic, squealing, and grunting beast doesn't sound all that terrifying. Not only that, but unlike its ursine and canine counterparts, the werepig doesn't sound as if it would be all that natural at predatory techniques such as tree climbing - even with the aid of human genes.
It looks like were going to have to forego exotic imaginary creatures such as the werechidna, werebadger, or the weregiraffe and go with an animal that has a little more romantic value. So, be on the lookout for the wereleopard, wereagle, weretiger, or when looking for an ally instead of an enemy, look towards the werehorse.
An example of this is P'an Hu, the dog-man from Chinese folklore. In western culture, dogs don't evoke the same connotations as wolves. When dogs are spoken of, there just isn't that air of mystery and wildness that is associated with wolves. Perhaps it's because the term dog includes all domesticated canines and it's hardly surprising that the image of a chihuahua with head held high baying at the moon doesn't stir the same emotion as a similar image of the wolf.
What about the ursine counterparts - the werebear - of Native American culture? The bear is a mighty creature, bested only by a man with a gun (or equivalent weapon) or nature herself. Not as agile as the wolf, the bear doesn't really need to be; when was the last time a wolf was witnessed knocking down a large sapling? But then, for some odd reason, once transformed into a 'werewolf' the beast assumes strengths attributable to neither of its originating species.
Perhaps the reason the werebear doesn't make it big in western culture is because the name is a bit too close to Care-Bears. However, one must ask the obvious question there; what could be scarier than a CareWereBear - a creature with a supernaturally powerful caring nature. Certainly the thought of a bone-crushing hug would be enough to frighten off the most determined of enemies (or maybe that was CareWearBear - trousers that take care not to chafe the parts that make us growl).
If not a werebear, then I suppose there is less likelihood of a werepig being successful. Although reality would ensure it was an extremely frightening experience, the idea of being chased through woods by a seemingly unathletic, squealing, and grunting beast doesn't sound all that terrifying. Not only that, but unlike its ursine and canine counterparts, the werepig doesn't sound as if it would be all that natural at predatory techniques such as tree climbing - even with the aid of human genes.
It looks like were going to have to forego exotic imaginary creatures such as the werechidna, werebadger, or the weregiraffe and go with an animal that has a little more romantic value. So, be on the lookout for the wereleopard, wereagle, weretiger, or when looking for an ally instead of an enemy, look towards the werehorse.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Essence of Beagle
I saw this picture on Loldogs and thought it the very essence of a good natured beagle. Just look at that tail go.
And to think, it isn't likely to lose any of that enthusiasm as it gets older.
see more dog and puppy pictures
And to think, it isn't likely to lose any of that enthusiasm as it gets older.
see more dog and puppy pictures
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Michael the Miraculous
I don't care for Michael Jackson one way or another. Correction - I didn't used to care for Michael Jackson one way or the other. However, last night was like the final nail in the coffin so to speak.
Unable to sleep, I switched TV on and EVERY open channel was showing the Michael Jackson Memorial. The main difference between them, was that one would show snippets of bygone concerts, while another would show 'special' performances that were tributes to Michael Jackson while he was still alive.
One channel had a 'commentator' who made the event sound somewhat like a tennis match at Wimbledon. While I was in the kitchen and hence could only hear the TV, I actually thought I was on the Wimbledon channel. You can imagine my surprise when the Rev Al Sharpton began his fire and brimstone speech. I thought Wimbledon had taken a turn...for the worse (which I previously didn't consider possible).
I quickly grew very tired of all the miracles attributed to Mr Jackson during his life. One shining example (I can't remember which deluded soul came up with this one) was that 'Michael Jackson taught us how to love'. It kinda makes me wonder how homo-sapiens made it thus far without Michael's input. Even Martin Luther King Jr. only had a decade or so to learn how to love - and that was if Michael began teaching shortly after he was born.
The Memorial continued through into the early morning show Curtainman watches while he drinks his morning coffee. He rolled his sleepy eyes several times while watching the program and when yet another performer graced the stage, Curtainman said "Who's that?"
"Michael Jackson," I laughed, being awake enough to recognise the station had slipped in a clip of Michael performing. "Apparently he's performing at his own Memorial. He's kinda egotistical that way," I concluded.
"The Memorial isn't even over and I've forgotten him already," mumbled Curtainman.
Well, let's just hope someone remembers to put Michael back in the coffin before he's buried.
Unable to sleep, I switched TV on and EVERY open channel was showing the Michael Jackson Memorial. The main difference between them, was that one would show snippets of bygone concerts, while another would show 'special' performances that were tributes to Michael Jackson while he was still alive.
One channel had a 'commentator' who made the event sound somewhat like a tennis match at Wimbledon. While I was in the kitchen and hence could only hear the TV, I actually thought I was on the Wimbledon channel. You can imagine my surprise when the Rev Al Sharpton began his fire and brimstone speech. I thought Wimbledon had taken a turn...for the worse (which I previously didn't consider possible).
I quickly grew very tired of all the miracles attributed to Mr Jackson during his life. One shining example (I can't remember which deluded soul came up with this one) was that 'Michael Jackson taught us how to love'. It kinda makes me wonder how homo-sapiens made it thus far without Michael's input. Even Martin Luther King Jr. only had a decade or so to learn how to love - and that was if Michael began teaching shortly after he was born.
The Memorial continued through into the early morning show Curtainman watches while he drinks his morning coffee. He rolled his sleepy eyes several times while watching the program and when yet another performer graced the stage, Curtainman said "Who's that?"
"Michael Jackson," I laughed, being awake enough to recognise the station had slipped in a clip of Michael performing. "Apparently he's performing at his own Memorial. He's kinda egotistical that way," I concluded.
"The Memorial isn't even over and I've forgotten him already," mumbled Curtainman.
Well, let's just hope someone remembers to put Michael back in the coffin before he's buried.
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