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.

'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.



'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.

Whereas the average individuals "often have not the slightest idea of what they are, of what they want, of what their own opinions are," self-actualizing individuals have "superior awareness of their own impulses, desires, opinions, and subjective reactions in general.

My Annual Review

I felt like doing one this year – it’s the first time in a few years that I have felt as though I achieved something worthwhile.  And while I know I could do much more, I feel satisfied with what is there.

My home is more ‘up-together’ than it has been.  I take the time, and can put aside my cares to get on with the mundane tasks.  Somehow they seem worthwhile again now.  Whilst I still become irritated by the futility of it all (if only I could afford a cleaner), there is a role that I fulfil, and it is a role that is useful.  I am appreciated.  Well, most of the time.

I have achieved a personal challenge, and managed to feel I’ve done my bit for some very vulnerable people.  I have given time to people that need it.  A precious thing, time.

I see progress in the junior.  He seems to be thriving, and growing and developing, and I can rest assured that the progress he has made this year will enable him to survive in the future.  He can be independent, it just hasn’t happened yet.

Of course the trouble has always been that I have inwardly compared him to my own experience, and that is so very different.  It was unfair of me to do so.  I never did this out loud of course – I made a point of suggesting it very occasionally, so he knew he was different to me.  I think he is more his father’s son really.  And that is great.

All I want to do is help him not make the same mistakes we made.  But in truth, they are his mistakes to make, and that’s part of life.

I see comfort in my companion.  We have laughed and laughed this year, and there have been many joyous occasions.  I also see pain and unsettlement and irritation, and I’m not sure what to do about those.  All I can do is be there for my ‘role’ where I can.  Which is most of the time.

I have developed deep friendships this year.  And delved further into old ones, rekindling things long since forgotten. Some have been taken to new levels – surprising ones, but very fruitful outcomes have been created.  I respect and love my friends – they have shown how they treasure me for who I am, and not judge by faded paradigms.

I’ve taken time to think about myself.  My writing has become more formal – in part, this blog is to blame, as is the dear friend who accidentally suggested it.  I relish being able to put my words on paper, and it helps me sort my mind into some semblance of order.  Sometimes, re-reading it, I see that my words are coordinated and make sense.  Other times, it is a rambling splurge of thoughts.  But either way, it is helpful to me to clear my mind at emotional times, and reflect on the contents of my wispy cobwebs later.  Like Dumbledore, I guess, in his pool.

And the blog is not all.  Constructing a new story has been wonderful, and although it too is not conventional, it is a side of me that requires releasing into writing.  And another thing to thank someone for – the hope of sending my story into the world.  Hope is a fabulous thing.  It breathes life into the darkest day, and acts as a beacon when all around is collapsing.  So to have that, gives one a tool to use when you need it.

Looking back at the year,  I try to see whether I am 'a self-actualizing individual'.  It is perhaps immodest to say it, but I believe I am - and therefore above average.  That's not a bad thing to be.  My self-awareness has developed.  I know my faults and can work with them.  If I feel the need, I work against them.  I respect who I am and have a slight toss of the head and say - if others don't like that, then tough.  I am me, and I trust that those who are worthwhile will know and respect me for that.

I love the things that have happened this year.  Even the ‘not-so-good’ can be explained with a reason.  I adore the people that have made my life worth living.

I don’t deign to pretend that 2012 will be better or so many great things will happen.  I know that things change, and people change, but wish to send good karma.  If they choose to send it back to me, that is wonderful.  I can but hope.

Being Alive

A moment of clarity from Stephen Sondheim

Bobby is a confirmed batchelor, whose married friends continually try and find him a girlfriend.  Throughout the show he muses on who and why and what a partner should mean, and debates whether he wants one.  His final frustrated tirade, and subsequent acceptance/revelation is emotive, and in both words and music.

It speaks to me about what we all want - or get - from any relationship.

ROBERT:  What do you get? (with a relationship)

Someone to hold you too close,
Someone to hurt you too deep,
Someone to sit in your chair,
To ruin your sleep.


Someone to need you too much,
Someone to know you too well,
Someone to pull you up short
And put you through hell.

Someone you have to let in,
Someone whose feelings you spare,
Someone who, like it or not,
Will want you to share
A little, a lot.

Someone to crowd you with love,
Someone to force you to care,
Someone to make you come through,
Who'll always be there,
As frightened as you
Of being alive,
Being alive,
Being alive,
Being alive.

He realises what he really wants.
Somebody, hold me too close,
Somebody, hurt me too deep,
Somebody, sit in my chair
And ruin my sleep
And make me aware
Of being alive,
Being alive.

Somebody, need me too much,
Somebody, know me too well,
Somebody, pull me up short
And put me through hell
And give me support
For being alive,
Make me alive.

Make me confused,
Mock me with praise,
Let me be used,
Vary my days.
But alone is alone, not alive.

Somebody, crowd me with love,
Somebody, force me to care,
Somebody, make me come through,
I'll always be there,
As frightened as you,
To help us survive
Being alive,
Being alive,
Being alive!

If you get the chance, listen to the full vocal version. 

I love this song.  It reminds me that there is a very fine line between right and wrong in relationship terms.  Sometimes it just takes one word to change the meaning.

Life can be very subtle.