Tag Archives: differences

I Am Going To Kill . . .

This was originally posted in October 2017. I think it is still relevant today. I hope you enjoy.

Now that sounds like a mighty provocative statement don’t you think?  But what does it mean? Am I going to end someone’s existence? Murder? Or am I going to end the existence of the hamburger on that plate?

Context.  It’s all about context. And quite frankly ‘Kill’ could mean any number of things: ruin something, overpower, block, hurt, make time pass, laugh . . . . the list is pretty extensive. Confused yet?

I speak one language well (well, pretty well) and I will acknowledge it is a rather confusing language.  “Stay where you’re at and I’ll come where you’re to”.  Drive on a parkway and park on a driveway. To anyone to whom English is a second language: Kudos!  Even some of us born to it have issues.

I am finding more and more that it is not how well I speak that is important, it is how well I am understood. And the onus is not on the person to whom I am speaking, rather it is on me. I love words. I have a university degree in English. I often use words that are multiple syllables long and sometimes archaic. To my ear I am speaking appropriately. Unfortunately it is not my ear that I am speaking to. I was in a grocery store the other day and looking for a particular item. I was looking for aubergines. For the life of me I could not remember it’s common name. When I asked I was told that they didn’t sell exotic items. I was looking for eggplants.

I love the fact that I live in a multicultural nation. I love the fact that people from all over the world choose to come to my beautiful country. I believe we are stronger for that. But it also presents difficulties that I’m quite sure 30 years ago we never thought about:  everyday conversations. And then of course you have the generation that speaks in symbols, short forms and acronyms. The flavour of the word is lost when you LOL. The first person that ever used that acronym for me was a dear, dear friend. I thought it meant Lots of Love. You can imagine my chagrin when an acquaintance used it. Context my friends, context.

There is a marvellous scene in an episode of Star Trek the Next Generation where one character holds up a hot cup of tea and asks another how he would explain what she is holding in her hand, to an alien race. For those of you in the know it was counsellor Troy and Capt. Picard. Was she holding hot, liquid, glass, cup of tea, beverage? And if the alien race had no concept of drinking a cup of tea how do you explain it to them? And that is our problem here in present-day Earth. Context.

All over the world things are done differently in different countries. They refer to things by different names. When we come together there’s a great deal of miscommunication. Our job is to keep trying to communicate until we’re all on the same page.  When I write that down it seems like such an easy thing to do. And yet you know as well as I do, easy is harder than it looks. We will never, ever fail as long as we keep trying.  I’ll keep trying and I’ll stop looking for aubergines!

 

 

The image is via the Internet. I still haven’t bought any.

The Zoo

Animals galore,

Abound in the zoo.

A weasel, a pigeon,

And a hippo or two.

 

There’s the shark in a frenzy,

So ready to bite.

And I saw penguin,

In a suit that was tight.

 

There are tigers uncaged,

Just roaming the streets!

And silly young monkeys,

That are looking for treats!

 

Some holiday cheer,

Abounds at the zoo.

They’re looking for animals,

They’re looking at you.

 

The cages are homes,

And jobs that we need,

The zoo doesn’t keep us,

And we need to feed.

 

Wants and desires,

Are what keep us locked in.

The way we move forward,

Sometimes it’s a sin.

 

We build the cages,

That lock us all in.

Freedom’s a myth,

That we fear we might win.

 

What animal are you,

As you journey through life?

Smile at the humour.

And challenge the strife!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do you see what I see?

This was originally published in 2018 but I think it’s still relevant today. I’m taking a little break from writing. I hope you enjoy.

“It’s raining!  Everything is wet and miserable.  I can’t enjoy a day that is so dull!”

“It’s raining!  Everything is wet and wonderful.  I can’t help enjoying a day that is so vibrant!”

Ask any police officer at the scene of any crime. Each witness will have a different version. And to each one of them it is the absolute truth. Why? That’s easy:  perception.

There are over 7 billion people on this planet and trust me, that means 7 billion opinions.  But in all honesty the only opinion that actually matters is mine. Or, yours for you. Are you confused yet?

As I’m writing this, the day is slightly overcast and actually quite dull.   I love days like this. The pace is a little slower, I don’t have to worry about the sun being too hot or getting a sunburn.   Those are bonus days for me! I even like a decent rain. To watch the water droplets caress the windows as they slowly meander downwards. It’s like diamonds on a crown. You just can’t cash them in!

How we perceive what is right in front of us is predicated on several things.  Our vision of course is paramount but also the shades we wear over our eyes and I’m not talking about the ones you buy.  They say that people see what they want to see or that they wear rose-coloured glasses.  All this means is that we interpret what we see differently. Someone who has lived far too long in drought conditions will love the sound and sight of a gentle rain. Someone who comes from a rainy country will not.

All our experiences will have an impact on how we perceive things.  I hate some shades of pink so anything that has that shade on it is automatically going to go into my ‘not liking’ category. It may not be logical or even fair but that’s part of my makeup. We all have our idiosyncrasies, our likes and dislikes. And all of those play into how we understand things. I can honestly say it’s a bias that we all have.

People usually judge other people in the first few seconds of meeting them. It‘s almost unconsciously done. But the trick is being able to modify that opinion once more data is forthcoming. If I see someone shouting angrily at another I’m going to immediately form the opinion that they’re not a nice person.  I know nothing of the circumstances or the people involved. It may not be anger, it may be frustration.  The point is, I don’t know.  I formed an opinion without all the facts.  Something that is happening much too often these days.  Hopefully I will get the rest of the data and will then be able to amend my opinion.

It is a wise person who can admit when they are wrong.

 

Give Thanks

Give thanks for the person,

You are here today.

Tomorrow is uncertain,

Next week is unclear.

 

Give thanks for the gifts,

That are given your way.

Remember your giving,

Should not be from fear.

 

Give thanks for the time,

you still have to stay.

Value your selves,

And keep your friends near.

 

Give of yourself,

In your own private away.

And there is your thanks,

On their faces so dear

Unrequited Love

I see her from a far

And I love her.

I watch her sleep

And I want to

Nestle near.

Her lips part,

Warm sweet breath.

I gently touch her hand

And she dismisses me

With a flick of her wrist.

I weep in silence.

My eyes follow her,

I try to be near.

The wind blows cold

To keep us apart.

I strive to touch

Her glistening skin.

I cherish my love.

Our worlds

Are so different,

So alien.

Sigh.

There can be

No future

Between a woman

And a fly.

It’s 4:00 in the morning!

I recently ran across this post written in July 2018. I thought I would like to share it again. I hope you don’t mind.

It’s 4:00 in the morning!

4 AM. The clock ticks inexorably towards 5 o’clock but it’s still a long way away. It is dark. It is quiet. But it is not silent. I can hear a clock ticking in the other room  . . .  tick tick tick. A relentless metronome. Tick tick tick. Isn’t there supposed to be a tock in there somewhere? It’s funny how we interpret what we hear.

I just heard a car, I think, it was a quiet, dull roar. Fortunately no car alarms! I can hear my refrigerator faintly humming. Not a tune I know. Silly me. I get a little punchy in the wee, wee hours of the day. Or is it still night? Technically it’s the morning but that doesn’t seem right until after dawn. But it is a quiet time.

I can hear my heart beating. Odd. It is something that has been doing the same job for more years than I wish to admit to and yet it is alien to me. My liver, my spleen. These are all important aspects of what makes me tick but I have no relationship with them. They are the mechanisms within the shell of my body. And I am no mechanic!

I am tired. But I am not sleepy. My body wants to rest but my mind insists it has something important to say. I wonder what that is. I wonder what is the meaning of life. Meaning. Mean. Such different meanings. Can you be mean to your meanings? How do we understand? Why do we not understand? We are not so different from each other and yet we insist that we are. Why? Why do we hate what we do not understand? When? When did we come to believe that it was okay to hate? Is that the meaning of life?

Understanding. Perhaps when we understand each other we will realize that only when we are acting as one, can we become one. One species, one race, one people. Too few people have tried. We are raised to be individuals and we cannot comprehend how we can be a part of something bigger when we come together as a whole. We do not give up our individuality by joining a group we simply enhance the group.

I feel I’m in ranting but I also feel that it is important. I am important. You are important. But even better than all of that:  WE ARE IMPORTANT!  WE MATTER.

What do you see?

My parents had a mirror that was quite large and quite heavy. In the middle of it was a ballet dancer in a pose. She had her arms out and was standing en pointe, on one leg. Her other leg was not in sight. As a child I always thought it was amusing that a ballet dancer could only have one leg. Eventually I came to understand that in that pose the leg was up behind her and out of sight.  But I liked to have explanations for things so I made up my own. She was indeed a ballet dancer who was dancing for the love of her life. The one she danced for didn’t know she was alive but that didn’t stop her from giving everything she had into the dance for him. The gods of dance took pity on her and placed her in a mirror where she could look out on the world but not be touched by it.  In my mind I never remembered the second dancer.

I tell this story to explain the picture above. It is a painting I did maybe 35 years ago. It is an abstract done in shades of gray. It’s called Private Dancer. That mirror was what inspired me to paint that picture and I have always thought of her, the dancer, as a lonely soul. A few years ago, a friend and I did an art show and I dug this old painting out because I rather like it. Several people came to me that day and commented how lovely the painting of the horse was. I smiled and thanked them. It was after the third or fourth person had commented about the horse that I finally asked someone what they were talking about. They didn’t understand why it was called Private Dancer but it was obviously a painting of a horse head. I never saw the horse head until it was physically pointed out to me. 35 years I’ve been looking at this painting and I never saw it. They didn’t see the dancer that I did. We stood side-by-side and looked at the exact same painting but saw something different. Isn’t that what life is all about? People go through life seeing exactly the same things but they interpret them differently.

There is no right or wrong way to look at an abstract painting. We see through our eyes not someone else’s and that is always a good thing. I can see the horse now and I can also see the private dancer and that makes the painting that much more precious to me. Because I was shown a vision through another’s eyes. That’s a valuable thing to share.

Poo Soup   

I am sure I misheard,

The words that you said.

You asked if I’d rather,

Consider you dead?

 

I know that’s not right,

But it’s now in my head.

Such silly old me,

You asked about bread!

 

There’s soup on the menu,

I like that, I do.

What’s on today?

You say that it’s poo?

 

Creamed, you continue,

It’s special you see.

I know this is wrong,

But, with a chaser of pee?

 

This restaurant is new,

With a speciality palate.

I’m trying to grasp,

So, the onion’s a shallot?

 

I long for the day,

When food was a breeze.

A coffee was simple,

And sweets were a tease.

 

Now latte’s are half-fat,

And waste’s on the menu.

I don’t understand,

That food’s now a venue!

 

I’ll just drink my tea,

And snack on a chip.

Maybe I’m asleep,

And this is a trip!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A New Year

And so it begins,

A New Year is born.

A chance to make changes,

An Old Year to mourn.

 

We take up the mantle,

To plan a direction,

So much is amiss,

And needs a correction.

 

The future is ours,

To mold, to make fit.

The question of course,

Is can we admit?

 

Mistakes have been made.

And evil has been done.

But we have the strength,

To approach it as one.

 

Together and wise,

Let our will be conceived.

And just as we’d hoped,

A bright future achieved.

 

 

Swaddling Clothes

 

So long ago a child was born,

In swaddling clothes He lay.

Sheep and cattle gathered near,

And wise men kneeled to pray.

 

As time went by upon the earth,

This child had years to grow.

Once He sought a temple’s scribes,

To tell them what to know.

 

The Son did speak His Father’s words,

Of love and trust and truth.

Others must be taught to know,

The principles of this youth.

 

He lived His life each every day,

By the tenets of which he spoke.

They form the basis of our lives,

As one we must invoke.

 

So long ago a man did die,

In swaddling clothes he lay.

He gave His life for all of us,

And now it’s time to pray.