Some of these are are from the looking glass of my mind, others from those I believe reflect as I do. Like everything else I am throwing your way they might be of some value to you, if not you have lost nothing.
I will start with one of the many little pieces of gratification that was thrown into my lap as I moved from place to place, and book to book. As a person who believes in the tenderness of a hug, a kiss on the cheek, or even a touch on the shoulder, i think this little story fits in here with a lovely message attached to it. It was written by a guy called Jim Sanderson, a columnist.
He received a letter from a woman who gave her name as Margaret. She was 71 years old. Her son came to visit her one night and burst into the house without knocking. He burst into the house and there was Margaret on the couch really having a blast with one of her boyfriends from the Senior Citizens. The man was horrified to see his mother kissing a man on the couch that he turned on his heels, said, “Thats disgusting, “and left. So poor Margaret writes, “Did I do wrong? And Sanderson writes to her and says.
The best things in life, Margaret, go on forever. Every human being requires conversation and friendship. Why do we assume that the needs of older people stop there? The body may creak a little but there is no arteriosclerosis of emotions. Older people literally hunger for caring and affection and physical touching, just like anybody. Adult children and other family members seldom provide anything more than starvation rations-an occasional kiss. We know that sex is perfectly feasible at any age, given good health, but even when this does not seem appropriate for various reasons, why should there not be a little latter day romance, a little love, a innocent contact, a stolen kiss, a gentle massage, a caress on the cheek, one hand fondling another? Many woman of your age, margaret, often feel strange and alarming stirrings within themselves, feelings that may not have surfaced for years. This is the life force coming to your rescue to remind you that you are a male or female, not just an all-purpose senior citizen. Rejoice in this, Margaret, You’ve had enough bad news.
I think that’s brilliant. Theres nothing out of proportion about that. I am well aware that hugging breathes a new sense of life into old bones. When my children or my grandchildren hug me, I feel over the moon. And I’m well known as a hugger. Yes, I take chances at times I must admit, But I ask you in all sincerity what’s the point of living if you can’t reach out to others in some way or another?
I am going to follow that up with another little story that circles around everything I believe in. And of course this brings with it life, death, love challenge and adventure. Yes, you could add a lot more, but thats gives us a pattern to go on with.
This charming fire of fantasy is taken from book called, “The leopard “ It’s about a Sicilian man who lived with passion! He believed that the most beautiful singular thing in the world was La donna-the woman. He lived all his life admiring beauty, especially female beauty. He also worked to keep a family together, but never lost sight of the magic of the beauty of all women. There were no ugly women for him. He becomes very, very ill, and it happens to be in northern Italy at the time. A southern Italian from Sicily would never dream of dying in northern Italy. He says, “Get me home. Get me home! I’ve got to go back to my house and die with my family!”
So they take this old man onto a train, to travel down Italy. It’s a beautiful trip as they describe his pain and his despair. He’s going home, because he knows he’s going to die. He just gets into Rome, and he hears all the hustle and bustle in the station. He opens the window curtain and looks out. He sees the most incredible lady, the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. She’s all in brown, with an enormous brown hat on, with a great brown plume, brown leather gloves up to here. She’s the most elegant lady he’s ever seen. He looks at her and says, “Madonna mia!” Even in his sick state. She turns and smiles at him, and the train moves out of the station. He can’t get the vision of this woman out of his mind.
In the next chapter he’s dying, and all his family are around him. they’re all weeping. He’s getting the last rites, the door suddenly opens, and in walks the lady in brown. With all the elegance in the world, she walks right through the family to his bedside. She lifts her hand and gives him her beautiful brown- gloved hand. He looks at her and says, “It’s you.”
The great joy of life I believe comes with small blessings as do the sorrows. They come I believe from the gold mines of our imagination in unbelievable and mysterious ways. And we really need to listen to each and every one, because the gifts they bring will never come again in the same form. And at times they may not bear any resemblance as a gift. Maybe more like pain in the neck. But if you sidestep them without taking a deeper look, they may may come back to haunt you?
I will follow what I have said there with a few I first threw at myself before I put them in your path. It’s just another way of me sharing my life with you. As I may have mentioned, I don’t believe in giving advice, rather asking you in the best possible manner to throw your mind over the things that experience has placed in my lap. I’m sure there will be quite a number of you lovely people who
would like to share a few things with me to add to my growth.
Living with yourself is always going to be in some way incomplete and imperfect, a lifetime of off and on vulnerability.
Unless we are realistic and honest about what is developing in our minds, there is little self-growth to water it with.
I sometimes wonder how well I know myself. And on the other hand how how important is that to me? Maybe it’s like a two sided coin. When I learn to be happy with one, I could be happy with the other.
If we take the time to consider our lack of creativity, maybe our lives won’t be so miserable, our uncharted.
It’s not so much about what comes your way, it’s more about what you can do with it. It came for a purpose, maybe to test you, or to pass on to someone else. Maybe it needs more for itself than you, or others, so please let it do it’s thing
Love requires time to find it’s own process of existence. All the delicate skills that surround it brings many demands. And each one is an art in itself.
No one can instruct you what to be, or what not to be. They can share their experience with you, but they can not do your thinking for you. You are always very much alone in the web you are continually weaving.
I am only alive in what I find that attracts me to its core. There I can develop my mind in what direction I must take myself. And I must at the same time realise that whatever comes my way will be both solvable and unsolvable.
I am now going to take a walk back down memory lane, to see if I can put a little more colour on some of the things I wrote about in my book, and the sequel to it. Not that I am unhappy with it in anyway, It’s more of a challenge than anything else. And also to keep me in touch with myself. I really believe that it’s so important to try and understand the you of you, than anything else. That way you will find that there is no need to build defense mechanisms to protect yourself. I will give you a little but beautiful example of that before I start my little trip down memory lane.
This was written by a man called Zinker.
If a man in the street were to pursue his self, what kind of guiding thoughts would he come up with about changing his his existence? He would perhaps discover that his brain is not yet dead., that his body is not dried up, and that no matter where he is right now, he is still the creator of his own destiny. ( I really love that inspiring piece, “He is the Master of his Own Destiny) We should all think carefully about that? He can change this destiny by taking his one decision to change seriously, by fighting his petty resistance against change and fear, by learning more about his mind, by trying out behavior which fills his real need, by carrying out concrete acts rather than conceptualizing about them. Wow”I love that. By practicing to see and hear and touch and feel as he has never done before used these senses, by creating something of his own hands without demanding perfection, by thinking out ways in which he behaves in a self-defeating manner, by listening to the words that he utters to his wife, his kids, and his friends, by listening to the words and looking into the eyes of those who speak to him, by learning to respect the process of his own creative encounters and by having faith that will get him somewhere soon.
We must remind ourselves, however, that no change takes place without working hard and without getting your hands dirty. There is no formulae and no books to memorize on becoming. I only know this; I exist, I am, I am here, I am becoming, I make my life and no one else makes it for me. I must face my own shortcomings, mistakes, transgressions. No one can suffer my non-being as I do, but tomorrow is another day, and I must decide to leave my bed and live again. And if I fail, I don’t have the comfort of blaming you or life or God.