Men and the L Word

Women say, he doesn't say "I love you" enough - or at all! There is a lesson there. If they won't, they don't. So what are we women to do? Think about it and learn. If men don't say it perhaps they "say" it some other way. I believe that they prefer to show "I love you", they aren't ones to do much talking about their feelings. Maybe we'd better take a look more at what they do and not what they say. It's show and not tell time. Do you feel the love? Is he there for you? Does he amuse you and care for you only? Is he affectionate at the right times and thoughtful at others? That's love. Okay but how do we live without that word? First you have to foster love by inviting it in. Say the word yourself and if he ever let's it slip out, tell him how much it meant to you. Rather than say what he isn't doing, compliment him to the hills on what he is doing right. Allow yourself that generosity if you love him. Forgive occasionally. Case in point: he makes plans and you prepare yourself for them. You work at your appearance for the event and go to a lot of trouble that no one asked you for. That's your responsibility and not something to rant: "look at all the fuss I went to just for this event, you heel, and now you are backing out". If he's the type who makes a habit of not doing what he says he will, get used to it or get a new guy. The Girl Guides  say Always Be Prepared and that can carry over into adult life. Be prepared but don't let disappointment destroy your life. What's more important - being in your new dress or being with him.  However, the guy who makes this sort of thing a long-term habit needs the baseball solution -to be told that you give three strikes, and then you are out - of the relationship. Most men into sports understand a "strike system".  The hard part is carrying it out - but hey, there are other games in town.  There are other fields and other players.  You deserve better -the L word also stands for a Life - yours!

We Birds

Having watched birds over a longer period of time than I care to relate, teaches me that we are relatives of all living things especially in the animal world.  Now I know that there are those who would argue that we are a superior creature formed somehow in a magical kiln and that we have dominion over all the other living things on earth.  I used to believe that until I was old enough to become disillusioned by: wars and killing, greed, hate and anger. Was this the thinking creature made to save the world? This one who disrespected peace and cooperation but made eloquent  excuses for it?  Back on topic - some say birds and other animals of which we are one on earth, don't have emotions and that only man can reason. Now there's a conceit for you. It takes only minutes to see, when you observe animals in nature especially with their young, that they do reason, feel and react - the latter sometimes not in our favour! Currently, I am watching a nest of Red Tailed Hawks and it is clear that the parent birds know to keep their young warm and fed and safe. They feel concern for them, think when its time to defend them and react to their growth and changes. To argue that it is mere instinct, is for us to be sad that it isn't ours  and that we have to be taught how to do these simple natural things for our young. How many parents are with their offspring all the time, feeding them, guarding them and making life patterns for them to follow? Sadly for us, our kids are left in the hands of others most of their waking day. No matter how well trained these so-called substitutes: babysitters, nannies, schools are, they aren't you, the family. Like the bird that lays its eggs in another bird's nest, your little "birds" are not learning your ways: how you speak and move and react to various common experiences. Oh I know, there are the Expenses to be met. But I wonder about that on looking back; I was one who "worked" . And while one can point to the grown child and say - see the success. How do we test "success"? Does my grandchild nod his head when he listens, does he have that laugh or move his hands like so?  Do we want to hear, Oh how cute: he holds his fork just the way nanny did or she brushes her hair from her eyes just the way the babysitter did? To keep our families unique unto themselves, we have to be there "in the nest" just like the animals do, the reasoning animals.

It Isn't The Money

Isn't the money? Pish tish, it certainly is "the money". You can't survive without it. When we are safely and comfortably married to a man who is a good manager, we don't think about, along with him, the removal of his  resources to keep the home going. Two can live more cheaply than one is a true adage.  When your spouse is gone, the family, home and car costs continue; there are insurances and maintenance. These are significantly high especially when both pensions have been the past main source of income. Widows are often left not only with the job of managing the household,  they are left with underfunding.  Some turn to their families to run their affairs, but others prefer to do it themselves. I recommend the latter unless there is serious illness or physical inability. Giving up is not a good idea. It's like opting out of life because your husband died. That's as bad as burning yourself on a funeral pyre. Previously,  I lived in a complacent world where everything was taken care of by my husband. Other than trying to be practical, there was always money available. When my dear one left, of necessity, out came the ledgers and budgets and I rolled up my sleeves and learned how to do it all by using the templates available. There were tears I have to admit but after a couple of learning years, I now manage, and have even developed a new system. It may not be as professional as the former plan but it works for me. The message is: learn money management ladies before it is forced on you. Most of us end up alone at the end of life and we need to feel as whole beings, responsible for ourselves.

Blindsight

Of late, being a widow with a relationship, one that is rather mysteriously wonderful even to me, I have encountered something new. Blindsight. The best way to explain what this odd "disease" is, is to remind you of small children who put their hands over their eyes to make the world disappear. Or, as adults,as in my present case, how we cover our eyes at sights that offend us. My relationship involves people who are offended by it and thus "cover their eyes" to my existence that they see as offensive. My name, even, is the word they do not say. In this way, presumably, I have not happened to their family and they can carry on blindly and happily lolling and wallowing in their nice little world. I am not to "come out" to use the modern term for it.  The object of their protective attention and my rejection, is a significant person in my life and they have no intention of taking their hands from their eyes to "see" who has violated their sacred circle. To me, the perpetrator of their discomfit, it is not painful as hoped, so much as amusing. It doesn't change my satisfying relationship, nor does it remove me from their environment.  So what is the purpose? I rest my case.  In fact, the longer this goes on, the bigger it grows like the proverbial elephant under the carpet. Two years of carpet existence should stop the silliness, but nay.  One must, at least, admire their tenacity but, at the same time, amaze at this childish blindsight by adults. The longer it goes on, the sillier it becomes. My lover excuses with: "they're not ready yet", "it isn't time", "they will eventually come around".  Ready for what?  Talk about "coming out".  I am out. I've never been in. It begs the question, who actually is in the closet? Ah, blindsight.

isms

There are countless isms, mainly religious. By religion, I mean the kind that draws one to support a church of some sort. Each of these isms presents good reasons for their particular ism and each deems his to be the right and true one. If you are reared to one ism and your mind is thus attuned to it, well and good but most of us, being thinking human creatures, at one point in our existence, test or question our theism. There is also in life, a time of apathy in which one tires of the conflicts between  the isms and simply opts out of all of them into the convenient and readily available Atheism. A-theism simply means, away from theology of any kind. In other words there is no God. At the moment, this is a very popular theism.  It's the easy way out of the whole matter of who is right, a kind of I am too busy to bother with this nonsense, therefore, I believe in nothing. I am an Atheist.   But I prefer to think man does have a spiritual nature and craves for some sort of unearthly entity to which he can cling  during quiet moments. I have enlisted in one after years of being involved in a number of religions and some quite seriously at that. I have come up with my own ism. It is called Optimism. It accepts all others as the choices of individuals.  Most isms do not allow such freedom. If you are an "ism" you must follow the rules unless you are a worshipper of Anarchism. Optimism on the other hand is free. One can find something good in almost everything, the Auntie Annie kind of saying:"every cloud has a silver lining".  Optimism is positive but not stupid.  It says that hope reigns. Before you rush away yelling, Pollyanna, think about it. Isn't there truly something good about almost every religion. Only the vastly ignorant make denials without looking into a matter thoroughly before issuing a denial.  Optimism is inclusive:  no symbol, no cathedral, no tithe, no sermonizer,  no dogma, no hymn, no sore knees. Optimism may be practiced anywhere, anytime and anyhow. It is a happy ism, one with a positive future leaning: an ecstasy free from anything but of itself. Everything is good and beautiful and true - you just have to look for it. Ah Optimism!

Well Educated

Sad to say, most of my education and perhaps yours, was "well", that of being sent down into one and blindly listening to and "learning" facts to memorize and regurgitate so as to receive an "A" or a percentage of success in being able to paraphrase them at examinations and receive a piece of paper after years of it, at a rite of robes and roses saying that you have been successful at repeating what you were "taught". Seldom during class is one welcomed to question, to dare to propose something different than what the teacher expounds. Few teachers that I encountered in my Education days did other than stand at the front of a room and blab on as they had every year of their professorial life and expect that we students not question them and furthermore to be keenly interested.  On rare occasions, we were blessed with teachers who asked for your ideas on the subject. Your naivities were welcomed and examined sincerely and patiently.  While most students hadn't the background to do this well, the acceptance of their questioning  inspired them. This is what makes students want to reach beyond their formal education and perhaps invent possibilites that could be the savings of mankind. The present mode in schools, demanded mostly by the business world desires not creativity but obedience to form. It has school boards working out ways to "report" to parents a number for their child. Your kid is  a seventy percenter and will live a seventy percent life, the "A" kid being alpha.  How many Valedictorians  left school or university and became failures? Their popularity with fellow students and teachers seldom went beyond the walls of the school. Likewise marks do not necessarily indicate success. A human being is not about percents and diplomas, it is about who he is and what he can do well. (He being "he", the human being, of course.) Your essential plumber or electrician or nurse, your hotel cleaner or restaurant cook, your store clerk are educated - not usually at a university but mostly by love of what they do. To test this ask: does your doctor really care about you or even know you? Does your CA know how hard it was for you to earn what you pay a walloping tax on? Does your lawyer/parliamentarian think about you as much as you think about his or her party? Does the rich hockey or football player get as excited for you as you do for it? Or does the trillionaire singer or actor you spend money on, even know who you are or give a hoot? The humble "well educated" one who cares for you personally, does mind the future - that of mankind and you as part of it, while at their jobs. That is what I call "well" educated.

Batty Betty

Some of us "of an age" have strange waking habits. Having no need to go out to work as once we did for years and years, but continue to enjoy active minds, we take on strange hours. For example, the need to slip into a lovely daytime nap when that siesta time arrives and later, about three in the morning or four, we rise from our night sleep and go on the "owl prowl". Each human bat or owl will take their cup of indulgence - mine being coffee laced with a modicum of Bailey's  to replace sugar and cream but to inject flavour - and repair to either their computer chair, their recliner or as I, the big, cosy leather couch beside the favorite lamp. With coffee close by and a book in hand, I indulge in the quiet of the early hours with no traffic noise, no neighbour gab and all-black-out windows There may be robbers and other denizens of the dark out there, but they aren't part of my world and thus do not exist. Here I am free to enter the world of fiction or as of late, biography and thus become someone else, somewhere else. Often I gravitate to the computer and feeling the need to write, do the letters I dare not send and the autobiography I don't seem to be able to stick to. It's an indulgent time. I don't have to make-up or dress in anything but the old bathrobe and the coffee tastes superb at this hour. There are no phone calls and no television and housework does not nag. But it is not all pleasant. It is also a time when guilt can creep in and regret enter. Omissions, too late to fix and fears that lurk behind the daytime tasks, come out of the woodwork to haunt and nag and whine for solutions. The latter don't last too long because the general charisma of the moment creeps in and negatives fade away. Ideas flood in that couldn't during the day and creativity peaks. Why didn't I think of that before, you plead and put your mind to making a list of what to do about it - manana. Ah, manana is on the other side of the universe and it never happens and as your mind fills with random thoughts, you find yourself going places you would not dare to during the day. There is truly something indulgently comforting about three in the morning, a time of finding yourself.

Blaming God

Had occasion to read someone's reason for believing in not believing in God. It went this way: "If there is a God, He wouldn't have ..." and that in condensed form, is why this person and lots of others say there is no God. I am not about to defend their stand; that's their decision. My "God" is real in my thoughts but it doesn't go around making things happen or not happen; simply, to me, "God" is. Now, fundamentalists and atheists will get all excited about such a statement, but I hold that my view is my choice and theirs is theirs. Saying that, calls for an explanation. There are those who run to the Bible and quote this and that to shape God into what they know as it. Others will argue that you can prove anything worldly or otherwise, with the Good Book, and I am sure they are right. Interpretation comes into the picture and that's where I become lost. Bible "Thumpers" expound for hours on small details, busily slicing and dicing to prove their points. But like a really good stew, it comes down to the essence which is what my mother-in-law used to call what was left in the fry pan after browning the meat. She'd scrape that stuff off and make, with it, a bit of flour and water, the best gravy you ever tasted. That was about all she cooked well, but that's another tale. It is all in the flavour and that comes from the meat of a thing. Vegetarians notwithstanding. The main message in the Bible is "Love one another." Very simple and straight forward even after reading all those skimpy pages from cover to cover and back.  But Love is not simple and hardly straight forward as the world has proven from day one with its wars and such. The essence is "God is love." Contemplate, pray, meditate or take a walk in the woods or a sail in the air or out on the sea, it is as simple as that and just as hard for the world at large to do. If you can't do Love, then don't blame God.

Writer? Beware

Writers, not necessarily The Published,  rarities these days, are to be avoided. The sensitive, the wary, the paranoaic, the secretive are thus forewarned. A writer sees the world as something to be harvested, not cultivated. All is fodder. Of course, there is libel but it is seldom challenged and often skirted. There is defamation and damnation but these nations barely exist in the mind of the writer. His tools are the inevitable pen and his undeniable wildfire imagination. A writer of non-fiction, reports and while his work may be useful, and even colourful and entertaining -  as much as life can be, straight-off-the palette so to speak, their spheres cannot be created or mixed or applied much other than what they actually are. Fiction, on the other hand, is all colour: mixed, flung, swirled, thrown and splashed.  It has and is a life of its own. Born out of what the fiction writer decides and feels and mixes to shape his tale, is something that lives and moves and has being. Often, because it can do things life can't, fiction takes on a life of its own. Characters are heroic, there is nothing they can't and won't do. They don't have to mess around with the mortgage or the kids or the job. They just get in there and do what the author makes them do. They seem to have endless resources to move about as they please, to live where we all desire to and to do it successfully or unsuccessfully as they are directed. They are the acme of the society the author chooses for them. But always they are the children of the author because out of him, they are created. In short, the author plays god. One has, therefore, to beware of authors for they are omnipotent in their worlds and if you find yourself in one of them, aha!

Crocodile Smile

I had occasion recently on my daily walks to and from the beach, to cross a river and thus to strike a casual acquaintance with crocodiles: you know, the ones that live in murky waters showing only their craggy backs imitating driftwood. These denizens of warm waters move slowly but thoughtfully, it feels, and their fearsome eyes like clouded jade appear to see far more than a blur. Their slow moving manner hints at the latent energy lurking hungrily beneath the surface and their habit of sinking slowly out of sight while keeping an eye on you, says much. But what, is the secret.  Oh yes, they make sounds but these are infrequent and warn gutturally to stay away or come along. You never know with crocs. I know people that remind me of the cunning croc. They have that enticing smile and charming lethal tone that enthralls and draws you in - for the kill. They implant their tiny poisons that eat away inside you subtlely and painlessly so that you are unware of the effects until it is too late. The small  hints that grow into suspicions to eat you from the inside out, the veiled insults cooed into your ear are like the hiss of a viper before it strikes and are designed for the ultimate but delayed kill. Although animals not in the least related, as my good friend warns, the polar bear smiles.