When one wants more than life itself, is it greedy?

I have followed in the footsteps of someone I hold dear.  That person has proved her faithfulness, and that the paradigm error was right.  Can I, will I manage the same simple pleasure?  To be with the one you love for time to care?  As yet, I do not know.  But I hope.

Life is finite.  I’ve had a reminder of that recently.  A small and furry one.  I nursed and cared in such a simple way.  It was greatly gratifying that I had the chance to do so, and that the pain ended when it did.  Not so the pain for me.  It fades but does not end.  It was surprising – I did not think I would feel that way. It made me remember that I have been surrounded by the fluffy clouds of life for a long time – pain is a stranger.

Discomfort has been learnt as a shadowing partner – always there in the background.  Life has to breed discomfort – else it would not seem real.  Do I deny?  No.  I know that I will not deny that which is wanted of me, and which I want desperately in return.  Regret?  Some things, maybe – but they are the ones that make you who you are.

Perhaps I would be less of a decadent thinker if pain had been a more frequent visitor.  Having too much time to think can be a detrimental manager in the business of time.  If you sat lonely all the time, would you feel it more than if your inner loneliness was masked by a whirlwind of people and pastimes?  Yes, probably.  You would consider more why you were lonely, and although understanding the concept is helpful, it might not help in the mission to change it. 

Busy people do more – because they don’t wish to feel the pain – a conclusion based on years of self review.  At times when I have lots to do, I do not feel alone: I don’t have time to.  Others I have seen share the attentions of many.  Many dedicate their time and longing to a single cause, hoping for a single response back.  Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t – I never wish the latter pain on anyone.   I do hope they see the pain and realise they don’t have to experience it. (Some pain is inevitable, but when you walk purposely towards the flame in the knowledge you will get burnt, is it wise?  For the warmth? or sucked under and your own flame extinguished in the search for someone else's flame...)

But is there a hidden concern that to provide that single response would mean exclusion of others, and eventually painful loss?  Yes.  It’s not really hidden and nor is it unwise.  Perhaps it’s the only way.  In which case, it is a working strategy that manages a series of truly blissful relationships.  (Or a series of mediocre ones, which may still be better than the pain itself).

Only when the fear of the loneliness peeps its head above the mercury surface does it sometimes admit ‘I don’t want to be alone.’  None of us do.  Knowing that, and recognising that at some point perspectives might have to change, is the way forward.

Keep on with the shiny distractions.  They are the only way, for now.  And in time, the alchemist will change flexibility to simple, uncomplicated and unpolished gold.  It’s not the only precious outcome, can be crass and unsubtle.  But it will lie there partially hidden for eternity: never tarnished and can never be destroyed.

Winter approaches once more

Feeling a little lost today.

1.        It’s the end of the season, and so I will not have any more events to go to.  The other half doesn’t want to go to the one that is left, and in any case there would be no more friends there to have fun with.

2.       The Winter is approaching.  Whilst I love it, it is a quiet time, somehow less exciting than summer.  It’s cold and dark and wet.  Although wet is something that I’m now used to – and it’s a sure thing that I won’t be camping in it over the next few months.

3.       Lots of work to do.  Final year of a big project, which is not going to be easy, and will take a lot of determination, planning, motivation and constancy.  Mustn’t get distracted.  So might not be blogging very often.

4.       Something very good is waning.  No difference in thought or intention, but I now know the magic has been eroded.  It’s probable that this was inevitable.  Got it out of my system – you know.  And no deterioration of feeling.  Everything has it’s time, and this short time was mine to treasure, and has been treasured.  And will be treasured, ever.  Being lost today is another step on the ladder climbed.  Whether in the right direction or wrong, the sweet truth is that the pursuit is something that should happen.  Stay strong on the ladder, friend, you may reach a better platform, even though there is no lift to assist your progress.  I cannot want anything more – I have not the right or the ambition to join the climb – I have my own ladders to climb.  I’m not jealous though, just thoughtful, and wishing… well, I don’t know what I wish.  I’ve always known my place.

But I do have a few little excursions planned.  These will see me through.  I guess.

If I run on a treadmill, am I benefiting from anything?  I go nowhere.

Well; I guess I will be fitter through the effort.

PS.
I still find myself concerned that I would rather spend time away than at home.  Am I fickle, or just in need of variety?  That's a whole other post.

'The truth is incontrovertible. Malice may attack it, ignorance may deride it, but in the end, there it is.' Winston Churchill

Is it better to know that you are rejected?  Or to lay in blissful ignorance?

I want to know something specifically.  But to ask would be to admit that there is a shadow of a hope in my heart that the answer will be yes.  To ask would open the possibility of an answer that was no – and that would be crippling.  Survivable, but painful in the extreme.  Possibly not forever, but now.  And now kills all hope.  (I’m a bit short-termist I guess).

A simple yes or no is far too simplistic for the question.  But a ‘depends’ or ‘maybe’ or ‘well… if, and but,’ would be complicated and although understanding, would determine a range of possibilities that may or may not ever happen.

Can we always answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’?  Probably not.  A lie-detector has various control questions, and those (and similar statements of fact) can be clear and defined.  But affairs of the heart?  Of the Psyche?  No, I don’t think they can ever be answered with such certainly.  We might say ‘yes, for now’, or ‘yes if things don’t change’ (and that will never happen – that’s the joy of the world we live in), or even ‘yes, because that is what is best right now.’

It might also be ‘no – for now’, or ‘no, if things don’t change’, or even ‘no, because that is what is right for me right now’.

The ‘for now’ and ‘if things don’t change’ returns to an old topic of mine.  There are no straight lines in nature.  There are only lines on the horizon that look straight over a period of distance, but in the bigger picture are curved or tangents.  One has to consider things over the time of now.  That is where things are real.  The past is gone.  The future is misty and uncertain.  But now – and possibly a few short months ahead, are usually predictable.  And that is comforting.  It’s nice to know that there are good things to look forward to.  And that someone’s love or good feeling can be relied upon to support you, and care for you, and feed your happiness. 

Or even that there will not be that support, or happiness or reliance in the short term.  I can’t tell what will happen in the future.  But each step we take towards it takes us back down that winding garden path, to the unknown.

So do I want a ‘yes’ or ‘no’?  Does ignorance of knowing comfort the blow or hamper making a different way forward?  I can’t answer that today.

Do I want the answer to be ‘yes’?  Yes.  But I can’t admit it. 

Should I want the answer to be ‘yes’?  No.  As that would be to accept the complexity is real.  

The question?

Do you want me to move closer to you?

'A man growing old becomes a child again.' Sophocles

It’s been a week of quiet excitement and reflection.  Of reawakening, and trepidation.  My weekend is disappearing quickly. Some of the tasks on my list done, and a whole range of tasks not on the list also done.  The list isn’t any shorter.  Well, perhaps one or two.

I’ve been cooking.  I’ve realised that I love doing it, but you need someone there to eat the results.  You can’t eat it all – the quantities don’t work.

I’ve learnt that hot water pastry is a sod.  But tastes wonderful.  If it will only hold together for a few days, the right people will all get a taste.

I’ve learnt not to forget your roasting chickpeas.

I’ve learnt that ‘The Curious Case of Benjamin Button’ is a beautiful film.  But it should come with a health warning.  If you are in slight need of a good cry – get it out – it’s a doozer.

And so sensitive.  So meaningful – to me, to you.  I’d defy anyone to say they didn’t get one little thing out of watching it.  That connected it to you.

And so many poignant moments.  I’ll have to share some here.  There are so many of them…

I guess it’s cheating – I should use my own words.  But I find a connection with life, with love, with eternity, when I find connection in someone else’s words.  And I have to explain.

Benjamin Button: ‘It's a funny thing about comin' home. Looks the same, smells the same, feels the same. You'll realize what's changed is you.’

We never stop changing do we.  Perhaps we just miss the signs and don’t realise it.  I still feel the same as I did when I was 16.  But I’m not.  I’ve loved now.  I’ve lived.  I have people who are so important to me it hurts.  That is different.  I didn’t have that intensity at 16 – I thought life was endless and couldn’t see further than a few weeks.  Or perhaps a few months.  Now I want to preserve what I have but am terrified I will lose it.  And hope that some of the wonderful things will carry on.  For they make me real.

Mrs. Maple: Benjamin, we're meant to lose the people we love. How else would we know how important they are to us?

Everyone is transitory in this life.  And for most of us, people are transitory within it.  There are very few people who are with you always – that’s just not the way it works.  Brothers and sisters maybe?  The odd friend.  Lovers don’t come till much later, and to be blunt can never live up to expectations.  Which is right and proper.  The important people are with us for a while – maybe short, maybe long – and then pass on to the next thing.  We must learn not to hate the process.

Benjamin Button: ‘You can be as mad as a mad dog at the way things went. You could swear, curse the fates, but when it comes to the end, you have to let go.’

Simplicity itself.  A quote from someone else – ‘one man cannot change the world.’

And even if he could, he has to leave the world behind some time.

Daisy: Sleep with me.
Benjamin Button: Absolutely

Even more simplicity. (Especially if it's Cate Blanchett.  Hang on, shouldn't that be Brad Pitt...?)

Benjamin Button: Our lives are defined by opportunities, even the ones we miss.

I don’t regret any of my choices.  I’ve tried to take opportunities.  I’ve even made a few.  A wise young man called David once told me, don’t regret anything – it’s too late and wastes energy.  I wonder where he is now.

Being defined by opportunities seems like being controlled by external influences.  But it’s not just that – it’s a punctuation that allows you to breathe.  It gives pause, or changes the pace, or sets you up for the big next step.  It’s a way to remember milestones – for we all forget the steady change, and how that changes us (see first BB quote above).

Benjamin Button: I'm always lookin' out my own eyes.

No matter what – you are always you.  It’s your choice, your life.  Something for me to remember, when I see how I’ve changed physically.  How I hate myself some days for the indulgent behaviour that has led to most of my ongoing sadnesses.  I really should learn that it’s me in here, and if I want to change, it’s me that will do it.  I can’t, won’t and shouldn’t ask anyone else to do it for me.  Although I might need a kind word and my hand held every now and again.

Take control, but allow someone else to take the rudder every now and then.  Even the head goose takes pause and drops back in the formation sometimes.

Benjamin Button: [Voice over; letter to his daughter] For what it's worth: it's never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There's no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of. If you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.

Ditto

Queenie: You never know what's comin' for ya.

So live each day as though it were your last.

Benjamin Button: Some people, were born to sit by a river. Some get struck by lightning. Some have an ear for music. Some are artists. Some swim. Some know buttons. Some know Shakespeare. Some are mothers. And some people, dance.

And some people do a bit of everything.  That’s me.  I sit in the middle of a web of creativity and skills, and share it with some very special people.  Different ones of them feed my mind and soul in different ways.  They are different people.  But wonderful.

And me?  I’m just happy tonight that I’m not living backwards.  Much as it would be fantastic to think you were going to look like a young Cate or Brad in the future, it causes more problems than it solves.  They wouldn’t be able to eat all of my cooking.



A time for change, a time for respect.

It always amazes me how some people can behave with such utter responsibility, sense and sanity.

That seems odd to reflect upon – but most of our decisions these days are compromises, and it’s so refreshing to find someone who doesn’t compromise.  Even if it means short term pain, or even potential long term loss.  It’s about setting out to challenge the world to reach your standards, and setting them higher than any quick fix will allow.

Two friends, both remarkably suited, fiercely independent, stunningly attractive, immensely intelligent and painfully needing companionship of the highest order.  Both choose to stay apart, even though to submit their own standards would give great joy.  Maybe short term, or maybe long.

Going their own way.

Their decisions even reinforce my opinion that they are suited to each other.  It’s about the mind, and what connections that creates.  Not the body, and the flippant pilfering that charges the rationality.

Of one, the lack of the passion – previously spoilt by flaming torches lit of old.  The sense that this has to be – it is the deal breaker – the complete package has to be led by this.  Not for this one the slow burn, building.  Even though the other party is truly lovely.  The passion - the here and now.  Odd, because of the amount of thought that takes place.  Complexity, thy name is man.

‘Not my type’ I hear the cry.  But what is?  And if it has not worked before, should this not be a chance to try something that might work.  And others have echoed this.

Of the other, the confusion of being told one thing and learning another.  The newness of the relationship lacked context, but standards were held high.

Both are – as I see it – not wishing to be hurt.  Trying to guard against the risk of pain.  Trying to make the best decisions they can.

I see both sides, and respect both decisions.  So rare that people are firm on their perspective.  Such a shame that they must part for lack of understanding.  So proud of the path they take.  And if it winds towards at some point in the future, there is no harm.

"Anger is a killing thing: it kills the man
who angers, for each rage leaves him
less than he had been before - it
takes something from him."

Louis L'amour, Novellist

 I try to find solace in my own behaviour, learning from others.  Here, I take the strength of both - living up to their own standards, and behaving with decorum.  I try to be as decisive, when it is not in my nature to be so firm.  Especially where - as usual, I can see all sides and all outcomes with equal merit.

One day, I will not sit on the fence, trying to guard against my own risk.  For I can never see that I could ever hope to achieve all of this. (see below)  Some - yes.  All?  No.

But for now, I will stay here, loving both, for both - though old and new - have firm hold of me.

“If everything seems under control, you're just not going fast enough.” Mario Andretti

In the interests of ‘getting it out of my system’, here I write, from a position of slight confusion, severe irritation, and poignant reflection.

First the analogy – with me, there will always have to be one: it helps me explain things to myself.  Back to nature again: the garden always gives me inspiration.

It’s very lush at the moment, having been fed with lots(!) of water, and a fair amount of sun.  I’ve personally added lots of food – in form of compost, and care – tending it, weeding it, and looking at it.  I’ve tried anthropomorphic personalisation – I’ve tried to make it feel wanted.  I want it to produce good things you see.  I have some food plants in, but also pretty things that are new this year, and give me colour.  Some are for now, some for this year, and some for the long haul.  It’s about investment you see, and the long term is worth the investment.  I truly believe that.  Some things are worth fighting for, and some things are worth being patient for.  I feel a quiet calm as I write that.  Odd, isn’t it, how one can feel such warmth from words, and better understand your innermost feelings.  And without words, how can we communicate those feelings to others?

 But back to the plot.  Garden, that is, rather than allotment.  I’ve taken time to plan it, and spend time in it, and it is starting to show the rewards.  I’ve even got two gardens that I tend and care for.  One is wild and unruly in places, but vibrant and proud, which is part of its charm.  It is bursting with colour and fullness.  The other is simple, and quiet.  Both are rewarding in equal measures, and work symbiotically for me.  Not everyone can understand that I guess, but I do.

The confusion is - why I have planted broad beans?  I don’t particularly like them.  As a by-product, they are looking very strong and pretty, with interesting white and purple flowers. 

I suppose I want the beans for my displays.  I want to say I grew them.  I want to feel the joy of the nurturing and tending them.  But I don’t want the resulting edible pods.  It’s a mixture of confusion.

My mind is the same – I don’t know why I put myself through all this analysis.  Others don’t suffer from over analysis – I know some do, but by no means all.  I think over every action and reaction.  And I shouldn’t:  I know I shouldn’t – but it’s me.  But I’m logical human being – so why have I not learnt not to do it?  I just don’t know.  Sometimes it reaps rewards, other times, just wastes my energy, and stops me looking to more realistic goals.

The severe irritation is my work based life.  I am prevented from doing my job by factors out of my control, and am left hanging, waiting, and not knowing what to do.  The garden has been severely stunted by the erratic weather this year.  I cannot control the sun, or the rain.  I can control the water – by collecting the drips (and deluge) in the butts, and using endless watering-can loads to give the plants nourishment.  I can move delicate seedlings indoors, and tend them.   I can control my planting – pinks, blues and purples this year (and every year) as I love the factor of a waft of colour sweeping and toning across my vista. 

But still the dandelions burst out in yellow.  And get pulled up immediately (I have no patience with them at all).  And then there is the yellow creeping plant by the pond, which gently covers some of the bare patches with green, and then pops out in yellow buttercup-type flowers.  I don’t want to pull them out.  But they don’t go with my master plan. 

Is my master plan a romantic nonsense?  Probably.  But what is life if we do not strive for our dreams.

I have to adjust.  Be patient.  Look at the bigger picture and relax.  Life will find a way.  It cannot be wholly controlled.  You can try, but too many variables are at work here – and it’s hard to manage them all.  That’s the problem at work.  There is too much complexity to catch everything – all you can do sometimes is sit back and watch what happens, then adjust your actions and your plan accordingly.  Work out what is really important, and strive for that.  The blackbird ruined one tray of my seedlings, but at least he keeps coming back.  I like to watch him.

And the poignant reflection?  I tried to rescue a sad rock rose from B&Q a few months back.  In spite of my efforts, it died.  It was just too far gone.  My poignant reflection tells me that my work life struggles may be telling me that it’s time to move on.  I’ve had enough of fighting the same battles, and maybe someone else could do better here, where I move on to find new motivation.  I am trying to do too much, and it’s not fair on either garden, or work, or life.  But I want to fight on.  I want to succeed, and not give in.  And be able to say that I managed it all (see previous posts on being a goddess).  But mostly, I want to do what is right.  And whether that is the same as doing what is possible, is the question.

I love my job.  I love it dearly.  But will it kill my spirit?  Could someone else tend my garden?  Of course they could, and probably do it better – or just as well, but differently.  And although it would temporarily devastate me, I would know happiness if it made things better.

The Lady or the Tramp

Working mundanely but peacefully in the garden this morning, I unexpectedly found myself singing this quietly to myself.  It seemed quite apt.


'Why does he do the things he does?

Why does he do these things?
Why does he march
Through that dream that he's in,
Covered with glory and rusty old tin?
Why does he live in a world that can't be,
And what does he want of me...
What does he want of me?

Why does he say the things he says?
Why does he say these things?
"Sweet Dulcinea" and "missive" and such,
"Nethermost hem of thy garment I touch,"
No one can be what he wants me to be,
Oh, what does he want of me...
What does he want of me?

Doesn't he know
He'll be laughed at wherever he'll go?
And why I'm not laughing myself...
I don't know.

Why does he want the things he wants?
Why does he want these things?
Why does he batter at walls that won't break?
Why does he give when it's natural to take?
Where does he see all the good he can see,
And what does he want of me?
What does he want of me?'

This song has always found a connection with me.  Since I was very young.  But I never knew why.  I guess at the time it was due to the beauty of the interplay between words and music.  It's so simple a concept.  And the whole story is inspiring too - which I always saw as a delicious romantic fantasy.

Now, I see that my quest to be a goddess relies heavily on what is wanted.  I can be what he wants me to be - if I know what that is.

And if it is not too high a windmill.

Post script: 
Again with the ps - it's becoming a habit...

Actually, I think this should be about 'What do I want of me?'

'Beauty is unbearable, drives us to despair, offering us for a minute the glimpse of an eternity that we should like to stretch out over the whole of time.' Albert Camus

I hope I’m old enough and may be wise enough, to know that what I think means little to most people.  Just a few chosen ones take steer in my thoughts, and I am so happy that they do, as it – well, validates me.

But of them?  Do they feel validated by my thoughts and approbation?  Do they even need it?  Some will, of course, but not all.  And they are the ones that may actually mean most.

Do the ones who say nothing actually have that respect and love for my thoughts?  If so, why don’t they say it?

How difficult it is to respond to someone’s moment of revelation, suggesting that you might have done the same as an opponent did.  To react in a time of weakness in an extreme fashion?  To push away, rather than draw him to you?  Perhaps not.  But to feel the same, and be saddened in the same way.  It’s almost as though your thoughts were not cared for.  And that would hurt. 

And yet the thoughts are cared for, just some things are not considered as important as others – I truly believe that when needed, it would be told.

There is no question that omission is a form of protection.  If you don’t crystalise it into words – written or verbal, there is a chance that it can be avoided.  For yourself, you hide from what could be – but not accepting that it is, until it is there for real.

By hiding the truth from someone, you do not expose them to it.  
Even if, by hiding – or simply omitting an event from conversation, the other person feels left out.  One should never forget that fear of loss is often greater than the final knowledge of loss. 

And surprise is greater than both for some people.  They can’t handle change, or shock or new facts. It destabilises their world, and they (if they are a controlling nature) cannot handle that they did not control the situation.

Or perhaps it is just a weakness, and selfishness, on the part of the person receiving the news.  Fear is not yours to have.  You will not have to go through the pain, only the fear.  Being protected from pain, is an honour – but not always necessary.  My father omitted several key things of his life, and the revelation was many times more painful than the telling would have been.  The irony is, that I might not exist if he had told the whole truth at the earliest occasion.  I might also have stopped him (or tried to) doing the things he thrived on, if I’d known the truth at the end.  And that was not my place to do. 

I believe I am a different person today.  Although I have been spared from personal tragedy, I hope I have learnt from others.  Listening to stories, and assessing how I might behave in the situation.  I would not stop someone doing what they want.  I would not judge what was right for them, but listen to what they wanted.  For in reality, I have been there too, and suffered alone what slight concern ate at my soul, only to evaporate in the mists of understanding.

I would support in any way possible; and knowing that I would be there for them, hope that they would be able to do a little more, live a little happier, than without me.

It need not be explained, that loneliness will wrench the very flesh out of my chest cavity, dripping with bloody pluralities of anger and despair.  It need never be said that the tears will run torrents like Angel or Victoria or Niagara; but they will, until the springs of heaven run dry.  It can never be adequately discussed that the time was too short, or the distance is too great, or the world is too unworthy.  And all of those will be true.

I just hope that my eyes will show those things, and their heart will know.

The world is so short, and too extreme to explain.  Let us thrash the pants off it, until it fails to fight any more.

Post Script:

I'm a complete contradiction, obviously.  On re-reading this, I see I've discussed myself round in a circle - first saying I want to be told, and then saying how I won't tell someone the very thing I would want to be told. 

It's a quandry, isn't it.  There will be moments when the only thing to do is to spill your verbosity into the share-space; stop time with profound statements and be fluent in literary wonder.  Use allegory and metaphor to describe something that is pain personified.

And yet there would also be times where silence is longed for; where the words stay hidden or locked away in a cavernous emptiness; where you cannot speak, and where words are not wanted.  At such a time, it would be a simple touch of the hand.  Of the face.  That speak volumes.

The one key to getting it 'right', is to know your inner foe and embrace your hidden friend.  And hope that neither run from your side.

The Edge of The Precipice

The Precipice.  Something we all fear.

Or do we?

I saw Richard Burton's interview in 1974 with Parkinson yesterday, and he spoke of it.  Being there, and knowing that he really didn't want to go on.  A man so desperately in love with his ex wife, and finding the separation impossible to handle.  He would not say a bad word about her.  Could not, even.  Such pain and tortured love.

Such a private man.  So poignant, the thoughts of someone so overtly unconcerned by what anyone thought, and yet hiding, not really knowing how to express himself.

I don't know why this should have effected me so much.  But it did.  He spoke of the decision to not be a part of the world any more, just before he disappeared into a bottle.  Several bottles.  Although denying that he was trying to kill himself.

It seemed a very black place to be, and yet somewhere that rang a bell.  As though I've been there, or had been there with him, holding hands and saying "shall we jump"?  It's not really a conscious thought, or desire, just a question.  Almost as though it is just one of a number of things you could choose at that point.  Standing there, looking.  Slightly scared, and yet very unconcerned.

Whilst I stand there though, I am not trying to get him to stop, attempting to comfort him and help him - it is his life and he can do what he pleases with it.  As with everyone - it is their choice how they behave.  What right do any of us have to influence another?  Even if it is to stop someone taking their own life.  It is theirs to choose, isn't it.

And how wonderful to have someone that you love that much.  Or more than one love, in any number of relationships.

What age or illness does to us - surely it is our own choice when we've had enough.

Not me though, not today.  I may be exploring the cliff, but it is from a distance, and there is no one on it anyway.  Not today.

And this is how, you remind me...

Never made it as a wise man
I couldn't cut it as a poor man stealing
Tired of living like a blind man
I'm sick of sight without a sense of feeling
And this is how you remind me
Of what I really am

It's not like you to say sorry
I was waiting on a different story
This time I'm mistaken
for handing you a heart worth breaking
and I've been wrong, i've been down,
been to the bottom of every bottle
these five words in my head
scream "are we having fun yet?"

it's not like you didn't know that
I said I love you and I swear I still do
And it must have been so bad
Cause living with me must have damn near killed you

And this is how, you remind me
Of what I really am
Love this song.  An extract from 'How you remind me' by Nickleback.

The phrase also is particular to me, although not in the bitter reflections of the song.  I sometimes ponder on how other people influence me, and teach me about myself.

People that mean something,  people I love, consider friends, trust, and respect.  They make me see my faults and reflect upon past behaviour- often from a different angle.  They lead by example, by living the things I would like to live.  They make observations about themselves that prompt consideration of how I feel/act about such things.  Or make different choices than I would have made, but nevertheless interesting and enlightening

The best way to learn really - these people know that if they intentionally try to make me do something, I probably won't.  But if I see the benefit for myself, I may well give it a go.  And that's if they are aware of the impact anyway.  And in anycase, it makes me look at myself.  The difficulty is not to see what you want to see - but see what is really there.

And also sometimes people that don't mean anything still make observations, or behave in a way that make one learn about oneself.  It might just be that you consider what they have done, and vow not to make the same mistake, (in your eyes) or to achieve the same ends by different means.

Even people we really don't respect can be learnt from - although it is harder to take on board their actions, simply because we don't respect them.  We might not even listen.  But sometimes their approach is just so different from our own, it is hard to draw parallels.  We just come from different backgrounds.

People might accuse me of being a bleeding heart liberal, but I do believe that most people have something to offer.  They may be in the wrong job, or the wrong relationship, or the wrong culture, to influence properly and feel at home, but they will have some benefit even in adversity.  Taking a bikini with you on a 6 month work trip to the antarctic might seem incongruous, but it will remind you that there is a place where it can be worn.

Or people we don't even know.  Like a rock band of four guys in jeans - what could they possibly have in common with me? 

... apart from a yearning to understand myself.  Knowing that people influence me.

Lyrics really are the most powerful thing.  The all-seeing and gut-wrenching poems for the modern age.

We are all influenced in subtle ways.  Some new, some just a reminder of things we already know.  And it helps to be reminded.

“Worry is like a rocking chair--it gives you something to do but it doesn't get you anywhere.” Anon

I love the Spring.  New things bursting (or sliding sneakily) into life.  Someone once called me a Moon Child - but I don't think you'd normally call me a hippy chick if you saw me.  No tie-dye t-shirts, open toe sandals, or flowers in my hair.  And it is really not advisable for me to go bra-less!  But I do like to see the sun after the dark days.

I operate on a cycle - on this I've mused before.  Sometimes the wheel turns quickly, and sometimes more slowly.  The seasonal changes are one great wheel, and lots of other wheels of different sizes all turn at their own rate.  The difficulty seems to occur when multiple wheels reach their lowest points at the same time. 

Everything is black then, and I had a time like that a few weeks back.  It really felt that there was no point to anything I did.  Why are we here?  What is it all about?  Does anything we do really make a difference to anything? 

And does it have to make a difference?  If not, there really is no point to anything.  If, we are merely here to exist, then the only thing that matters is having a good time, surely.  Obviously some of what we do is to put food on the table etc - working now so that the future can be covered and we can live how we want to then.

But what about the end of your life?  I've an aging in-law who has recently shown a decline in person, mobility and motivation.  At a great age, she doesn't really want to go on - that's clear, and that's even though she is still independant, mobile, and fabulous compared to many others.  All that's left is further decline.  So why should she.  I wouldn't.  I don't want to be a burden and I don't want to be a vegetable.  But how to manage that process.

I had a conversation with an old friend this week, who has, in the past, humoured my ramblings on the 'what is the point' topic.  Suddenly, she gets it, having gone through the same feelings herself very recently.  She's put it down to the 'M' word.  Eek.  Menopause.  Nooooooooo!  It is true that the realisation that it's all a bit pointless, is happening to us both.  But it can't be purely physically, and chemically driven, can it?  I hate to even mention the word.  It's scarey with a capital S (ok, it's a capital M).  Actually, it's just plain irritating.  And I won't accept that.  I will just keep on believing that the reason for my musings are that I'm aware of my extreme limitations in the bigger picture of life the multiverse and everything.

How to deal with them?  Live well, do good things.... oh, that's a whole other chapter.

She has found comfort in labelling her emotional state.  I'm not prepared to go there yet, and aim to understand more before accepting the inevitable.  It's one possibility, but I think I'm more than just a bundle of chemistry. I can be there for her - so I guess that's helpful, and the very act could conceivably help me through my own mini crises (very mini, in comparison to most people, of course.)

Another friend is showing the signs of coming out of a dark place, the wheel turning and lifting him upwards towards the light.  That makes me happy.  Very happy.  That's what friendship is for.

It's always tricky to see the sun before it arrives.  One doesn't always remember that it will return.  But the wheel turns.  Some times more quickly than others.  I'm ascending again now, and need to ride the wave for a while, recharge the batteries, and ignore the impending doom for a bit.  Someone once said, worrying gets you nowhere.

“When I look back on all these worries, I remember the story of the old man who said on his deathbed that he had had a lot of trouble in his life, most of which had never happened”  Winston Churchill

Saint Valentine, and all that goes with him...

An over-priced but thoroughly lovely tradition looms.  It makes me wonder where it came from - all these tacky cards and flowers.  And what should I do to celebrate?

February is approaching spring, and is historically associated with love and fertility. The BBC say 'It encompasses the sacred marriage of Zeus and Hera in Ancient Athens and the Ancient Roman festival of Lupercus, the god of fertility.
The priests of Lupercus would perform a traditional purification ritual, slaughtering goats to the god, and after consuming wine, they would run through the streets of Rome holding aloft the skins of the goats touching anyone they met. The occasion compelled floods of young women to the streets in the belief that being touched would improve their chances of conceiving and bring forth easy childbirth.'

Well, I'm not sure I fancy slaughtering any goats this week, and in any case, I'm probably done with fertility.  So I guess that one's out.

The name "Valentine", derives from valens (worthy, strong, powerful); which is not what you'd think.  It's not about love.  Although it is about religious Saints - any one of three it seems:

A priest in Rome,

A bishop of Interamna (modern Terni), or

A martyr in the Roman province of Africa

Courtesy of Wikipedia - use with caution...

But the general theme seems to be a show of affection between lovers, or those that wish to become lovers.


And as it seems to be a major part in all our lives - finding someone to share time with, then I suppose it should be very important to us.  Certainly, even the staunch Atheists celebrate it (on occasion).  So it has transcended religion into a much wider western tradition.

It's not really about fertility anymore.  It's about making life better.  It might be about physical pleasure too.  Is it just an excuse?  Should we ever need an excuse to tell someone how we feel? 

And what is this stuff about sending anonymous cards and gifts.  Surely we would want the person to know.  I never did get that - even when, as a teenager, it was all very important.

After all that - I suppose I could celebrate with something that means much to me.  Love words, me.  Love- words make my world work.  So here are some.  Courtesy of Mr Bob Dylan, and covered wonderfully by Adele.

When the rain
Is blowing in your face
And the whole world
Is on your case
I could offer you
A warm embrace
To make you feel my love

When the evening shadows
And the stars appear
And there is no - one there
To dry your tears
I could hold you
For a million years
To make you feel my love

I know you
Haven't made
Your mind up yet
But I would never
Do you wrong
I've known it
From the moment
That we met
No doubt in my mind
Where you belong

I'd go hungry
I'd go black and blue
I'd go crawling
Down the avenue
Know there's nothing
That I wouldn't do
To make you feel my love

The storms are raging
On the rolling sea
And on the highway of regret
The winds of change
Are blowing wild and free
You ain't seen nothing
Like me yet

I could make you happy
Make your dreams come true
Nothing that I wouldn't do
Go to the ends
Of the Earth for you
To make you feel my love,