Category Archives: Wisdom

Falling Off the Map

My Octobers and Thanksgiving have little change from year to year. And that is something to be grateful for.

And special thanks given to those original commentators of six years ago who today are even more a part of my life, now sisters and comrades in life: Judith of New Zealand, Snipewife,  Eliz at Mirth and Motivation, and of course Colleen the Chatter Master,  and Joss who was a Crowing Crone back then and now author, and Winsome Bella, and dear dear Celi of Kitchensgardens and the Farmy,

bridgesburning

Falling Off the Map

It’s amazing how one day of not blogging turns into two or three.  I started a number of times each day just to wander off either physically or mentally.  The notes below I did on Sunday basking in the warmth of a true summer like day.

‘Canadian Thanksgiving

This is my favorite holiday of the year, unsullied by commercialism, and stress, a true time of thanksgiving.  Most years it is cold, many times snowy and the odd time like this year it is warm and sunny.  When I say warm I mean like 70ish which is warm for the frozen north.  I am outside, reclining under a cloudless sky, so blue it could be it could be a vast warm ocean, wearing summer togs and listening to leaves rustling from a gentle breeze.  Somewhere distant there is the drone of a lawn mower.

This is the…

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WHAT IF THE SOURCE OF ….

WHAT IF THE SOURCE OF WESTERN problems all stemmed from one evil? Societal restlessness, increased suicides and attempts, especially among the young, increased violent crimes, an increasingly hopelessness infused into each moment.

I wonder if we have let ourselves be duped, not unlike those of times long past who fell victim to purveyors of handy dandy things to make your life better, happier, bring you joy, ease.

You see I wonder if all our problems exist because of a collision of expectation and reality. Just like the anorexic young girl who cannot resolve her body image with that of skinny air brushed models we have been sold a load of nonsense about happiness.

That’s right. What if our expectation of happiness is not real, but an idea invented by small time scammers who made delusion a big time business.

Just like the simple country folk in the frontier days, shelling out hard earned dollars or cents (cents were so much more valuable then) to a shyster convincing them that the purchase of a bottle of mysterious happy juice would make your life, heart, or soul better, we began, decades ago buying up and into nonsense that life was all about being happy.

By the way the purveyors of this nonsense, who kept saying, look at me, how happy I am, You can be happy just like me, were indeed happy as society shelled out billions of dollars in books, on courses, in classes, advertising. At least they appeared that way externally, though I suspect their inner souls were just as bleak as any.

In the sixties the cry was, I am trying to find myself. Who am I?

Then along came the big roll out. Meditation, examination, imagination, any ATION, and all you had to do were pay. Happiness became a product. Buy this, be happy. Happiness in a bottle, a pill, a house, a car, a dress,……Or the most dangerous, Buy This Book, Idea Psychobabble told us imagine, visualize, believe, and it will manifest. The use of the word Manifest in itself should be a crime. And for those who tried to MANIFEST and did not succeed? Well they just did not do it right. We were, and continue to this day, we are being sold a Bill of Goods. It only fills the pockets of the sellers who are scamming you me and future generations. Sure they are happy, laughing at our gullibility all the way to the bank.

Then we came to believe that we had to convince our children they are happy or rather they should be happy. That life is all about being happy. They are not allowed to fail, to feel the pain of loss and know that it is okay, a part of life that makes us stronger. And they buy our Bill of Goods and become confused, depressed, and fearful when they cannot quite grasp this feeling they should have. What is wrong with me, they say. I must be deficient.

The pursuit of the illusive HAPPINESS has gone off to a realm of ridiculousness and people, especially our young are falling apart.

What if it all could be fixed?

What if we made a society (and we can by the way) where key words became, DIGNITY, HARD WORK, DETERMINATION, PERSERVERENCE, KINDNESS, NON-JUDGEMENT, VALUE PERSISTENCE.

What if we retaught ourselves that it is okay to fail, that there is a dignity in failing and falling? That failing does not mean unworthy? What if there was honor in the struggle?

What if we let our children know that it is okay not to feel happy in any given moment?

What if the new word became Satisfaction? Not in the result but in the attempt to live a good hard working honorable life. (with heavy emphasis on the hard working) and at the end of each day to feel a satisfaction?

Life is messy, and hard, and at time so sad and lonely, and painful but there is a worth to life, a Satisfaction that must be earned.

Let’s take a huge load of our children’s minds. It’s okay to be sad, mad, even glad. Let them know LIFE IS HARD, but can be rewarding instead of setting up an illusion called Happiness. And rewards must be earned.

What if Happiness exists as a by-product of this thing called LIFE?

Oh The Plots We Weave: A Normal Guy and a Smart Guy ..Oh and Eating Crow

Oh the Plots We Weave

Mondays are Plot days.  Stories from the press with a few ‘whys’ and ‘what ifs’  which could be the makings of a possible story line.  A bit of creative brain exercise.  Yes I know this is Tuesday but since the last few days have been spent with my Scots Cuz Rachael and other family members, ‘making merry’ as Bob Cratchit would say, I have seen neither newspaper or telecasts.

So today’s ‘What ifs’ are really one line from two different stories, one last week and one from ages ago that I tucked into my grey matter for future use and wonders of wonders was able to extract.

The first was a headline in our local rag; MAN ACCUSED OF ARSON AND MURDER A NORMAL GUY.  Huh????  For some reason the press decided to lead with a statement from the accused’s brother.  Being a wordsmith my response remains ‘Huh”?????  I mean I suppose there are some possible ‘what ifs’ but geez (wordsmithing again) they pretty  much only extend to alien or evil possession and that story has been told time and time again.

The other line from a past story concerned a man whose office was relocated to a very high newly constructed building.  Some of the office staff were apprehensive about safety issues.  The man said he would show them how safe it was and launched himself against the plate glass which promptly broke and he fell to his death.  The statement in the article was, “He was a very smart man.”

I’m sure he was but the statement begs another big ‘Huh’???? I am not sure I can even come up with a what if for this one.  Can you?

Have you witnessed or read anything in the last week that got your mind churning with ‘what ifs’.  They are all around us just waiting to be snapped up.  My hero Stephen King does it all the time.

Now for that less than delectable lunch of crow:

My sibs and I are very close and really like each other.  My brother Keith who is less than a year younger than I is more like me than not.  At least that is what his wife says.  I have always placed my brothers on well deserved pedestals, but there is one specific situation in which we clash.  It has now happened twice in the last two years now.

Here is the scene:  five people are driving in a car to a specific location.  The same location as two years ago.  Our destination is in an area I frequently drive through.  He does not.  I am sitting in the back.

Me:  Keith what route are you taking?

K: 52

Me and my sis in unison:  FIFTY-TWO??????

Through further dialogue not necessary to record here he finally goes my suggested route.  Once we arrive at our destination he madly drives first down one road and then down another until he in fact finds 52.  Not a word is said as we proceed back to our target.  When we leave at evening’s end he quickly heads down the road to 52.  Nary a word is spoken by me.  Somewhere in the conversation earlier he said something to my cuz in the front seat about not having duct tape when you need it.

Okay here comes the Crow eating. Ahem (clearing throat).

Dear Brother,  whilst my directions did get us there I have to confess openly, and generously, and modestly, that left to your own devices you would have reached your destination just fine.

PS (not for Keith’s eyes) I still could have gotten us there more directly.

PPS Next time I shall supply the duct tape and apply it to myself prior to launch.

PPPS I just love how magnaminous I am!

PPPPS I guess 2 head-ons in 2 years isn’t so bad.

***It is highly unlikely that my brother will not read this as he does not read my blogs.  However there is a chance my cuz may.