Tag Archives: Life

Is it not about life?

Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more. It is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.

William Shakespeare – Macbeth  Act 5 Scene 5

2022 AD – 1606 AD

This is one of the most popular soliloquies written by William Shakespeare. There have been many explanations for the reasoning behind it in the context of the play. But I had another thought. Is it not about life?

Are we walking shadows? Perhaps. While we live, we can create, inspire and impress. When we are gone can we still?  Some do. William Shakespeare lived 400 years ago and yet we still speak his words. We still try to understand his words. We engage with his words. But can we know the man just through his words? What did he desire? What was his favourite colour? Did he love to kiss gently like a butterfly or with mad passion thrown to the wind? The man is gone. His essence is no more. His shadow walks still.

Will my shadow still touch after I am gone? Will yours? Does it matter? I will not worry about what will happen after I’m gone. I would like to think that perhaps, just for a little while, I will be remembered fondly. But quite frankly at that point I probably could care less. We don’t know what waits beyond the veil.  It could be a new adventure; it could be nothing. So, I intend to make my presence known here, in this world, in this adventure.

We don’t remember the individuals who built the Pyramids or the Great Wall of China or even the buildings that became our cities. These people with sweat and blood and tears built our world. We can see their legacy but we don’t remember the individuals, perhaps that’s the way it should be.

I want my sound and fury to be joyous and positive. I want to touch people with my words and nudge them with my ideas. I want to share who I am. In 100 years, no one may remember my name but if the spirit of who I was resonates somewhere, in a word,  an idea, in a thought. Then I have lived well.

Taking Up Space

I was fascinated recently watching a bug outside my window. It was furiously insistent on doing . . . something. I don’t know what kind of bug it was, it had wings and was far enough away that I couldn’t make out any details. Think of a really big ant with wings. And then it dawned on me that this tiny insignificant insect was part of the whole picture. It wasn’t insignificant, it had a role to play. As do I. As do you.

Since the beginning of sentient thought we have questioned our existence. Life is the ability to reproduce, to grow.  Existence is a fact or state of living. But of course, it is so much more than that. In its simplest form to live one must only breathe.  To have a life, that’s a tad more complicated. Plants and animals in all forms reproduce but humans have the capacity to enhance that life. Reproducing is biological, the ability to love is chemical, what to do with those two can be magical.

We all take up space on this tiny blue ball floating in a vacuum.  What we do with that space is what defines us. We are alive but living is what we do with that life. Some people have made incredible contributions to the whole while others have been quietly in the background. And still others believe they have made no contribution at all and yet I disagree. That small insignificant bug is part of a chain.  A chain that binds us all together. That insect is as important in the long term as am I. But I’m sure for very different reasons. I like to think that my efforts are significant but perhaps only to me and to those around me.

I remember a news story many, many years ago about a town in, I think, Australia where a neighbourhood was overrun by very loud birds. People were irritated at being woken up too early by these annoying creatures. So, they set about to relocate or eradicate them. They did. And shortly thereafter there was an incredible influx of poisonous snakes. What they didn’t take into consideration was the fact that these annoying birds’ favourite snack was said poisonous snake.

It is the domino effect all over again. I’m not the one that has to make the miraculous discovery but if my words inspire someone who then inspires someone who then inspires someone . . . you get my drift. My comment, my smile at stranger might be one of the pieces of the chain. No person, no insect no comment is insignificant. We all take up the right amount of space at the right time.

I’m Feeling Wonderful

I’m feeling wonderful,

And I don’t know why!

I’m on top of the world,

And there’s rain in the sky!

 

The sun shines around me,

Tho’ the clouds up above.

There’s a smile on my face,

And I’m thinking thereof.

 

I don’t understand,

The happiness I feel.

I frankly don’t care,

I hope that it’s real.

 

The feelings I feel,

Are only for me.

Others may have them,

Just now let me be.

 

This day like the others,

When I’m feeling this good,

I’ll treasure the memory,

And do what I should.

 

I’m feeling wonderful!

And I don’t know why.

I’m on top of the world,

I tell you no lie!

 

 

A Bundle of Keys

A bundle of keys,

The memories they hold.

Once gripped in my hand,

My past will unfold.

 

The tales I could tell,

The deeds I have done.

A life that was lived

Was chock full of fun!

 

A lover’s sweet kiss,

In the back of my car.

Miles we had driven,

Some near and some far.

 

My bike had a lock,

I thought it secure.

But wily mean bullies,

Saw that as a lure.

 

The key to my heart,

Is not kept in a box.

It is worn on my sleeve,

My mind holds the locks.

 

A diary of secrets,

Is unlocked with a key.

Dare if you must,

You may just find me!

 

Planting a Seed

This is a blast from my past. It was originally posted in May 2017.

Each spring we anticipate the joy of bringing life into our gardens.  We plan and choose and anxiously wait for the frost to leave the ground We knowingly plant our gardens and wait for the flowers to bloom forth bringing the beauty that we know exists just below the surface.  We are proud of our efforts and spend hundreds of thousands of dollars, perhaps more on something that is often ephemeral. Hmmmm . . .

Wouldn’t it be nice to plant a seed that we could see bloom every day?   Actually, we can. We also plant other seeds every day but we probably aren’t aware of it.  A smile, a wave, a wink or a nod: simple gestures that can actually have lasting ramifications. We have no idea how many people we touch in a single day, a single hour and yet touch them we do. And that’s where the seeds take root.

Unfortunately, those seeds, those ideas, we plant aren’t always positive. Anger has a nasty way of leaving its mark long after the argument is done. Fear can last for generations, all from a single seed planted by people we don’t even know. Racism, bigotry, prejudice, the list is endless. We have the power within ourselves to make a difference. Within our hands, our hearts and our minds are the seeds that we can spread willingly and positively. We are in control, but do we know it?

Each one of us has a need to be nurtured, protected in order to properly thrive.  It is the height of hubris to think that others don’t have the same need.  There are more than 7 billion people on this earth and we all have something in common: Life.  We need to share it in order to blossom.

It’s a little heady to think that we have this power, this opportunity to improve ourselves and those around us.  When we catch the eye of the stranger do they see kindness and charity in our eyes or do they see fear and disdain. We can control that. We can control the narrative.

In 100 years you and I will probably be forgotten. In 50 years there might be a faint echo of us in those who are children now. In 25 years we should still be a part of the conversation, perhaps in passing. Tomorrow and the next day I want to be a continuing part of that narrative.  I want to plant seeds of compassion and empathy in those around me. In that way I can pay it forward and the see the beauty that sleeps just below the surface. How about you?

The Fog

Like a velvet glove

Soothing the harshness,

A soft and gentle touch

Silently rolling forward.

 

It touches nothing

But caresses everything,

A life of its own

A duty to perform.

 

Like a fervent admirer

It covers its lover,

Pressing home the advantage

Nothing is forgotten.

 

To some it signifies evil

To others anonymity,

People tend to whisper its name

And watch it inherit the world.

 

Sailors fear it passing by

Lovers salute its silence,

The wonder of the city

The passage of the fog.

 

 

 

Once again, my Dynamic Duo have presented me with a photograph that I could not leave alone. This poem was written almost 10 years ago but it popped into my mind immediately when I saw this photograph. Thank you to Dan and Maddie had nofacilities.com

On Fertile Ground

When I first heard the words Ground and Fertile together my mind went to flowers and produce, trees and foodstuffs.  Then I got it. We are the Ground, more specifically our minds. If as children we learn that it is acceptable, even necessary, to question then we will grow up to have open minds. An open mind is a fertile one.  And a fertile mind will allow ideas to germinate.

Progress happens through hard work yes but also through tenacity, perseverance and I believe a certain amount of luck.  Sometimes, plain dumb luck.  Let’s face it we have nearly destroyed ourselves many times. But we didn’t, fortunately. So, we continue to evolve.  We need forward thinkers, people who think outside the box. We need to face our fears, not to progress in spite of them but to use them. Our fears protect us and they inspire us.

We can’t all be movers and shakers. We can’t all be instruments of change. Or can we? Anyone who reads me regularly knows that I am a big believer in the Domino Effect. For those of you who are new to me, please allow me to explain. When you smile at someone on the street for no reason other than it is a beautiful day you may cause that person you meet to smile at another and then that person smiles at another and somewhere along the line someone who is feeling terribly down decides that life is worth living. Does this really happen?  I believe it could.

When I write these posts it is often because of things I have heard or seen that inspires me. It makes me want to ask questions, to understand something. Often it is other blogs I read or comment on that cause my mind to take perhaps another path. I am inspired by life. That sounds terribly simplistic but it really is that simple.

The people that enable our world to move forward or those that create are often inspired by things they may not even remember. Comments that were made when they were children can steer them towards a path they had not thought of before. Part of a casual conversation overheard on the street, or read briefly somewhere may trigger an idea.  We are constantly affected by those around us, by the sights and sounds of life. Sometimes we are aware of it and sometimes we are not but we are constantly being touched. And changed.

I would be very careful of what you say in public or what you write because it may be read by someone who then mentions it at a dinner party and then someone has the idea that . . .  Or perhaps the next great step forward in our evolution may simply have been stimulated by the ravings of a madman. Does it make you wonder?

A Cuppa

What do I see before me,

With its golden amber hue?

Will it cure the world of hate,

Or is it just my brew?

 

Does it make me calmer,

Ease my furrowed brow?

I know I’m looking forward

To tasting this right now.

 

I wrap my hands around the cup,

A gentle heat enfolds me.

It travels all throughout my soul,

The perfect place to be.

 

A soothing liquid skims my tongue,

And slides its journey down.

Pooling, splashing all together,

The jewel within my crown.

 

I breathe a sigh contented,

The way to start this day.

When everything is positive,

And now I get to play!

 

The Absolute Truth?

“It is the absolute truth!”    How many times have we heard this comment? How many times was it correct? The truth is something that seems to be bandied about like a tennis ball.  Whoever hits the hardest or the farthest gets the point. Ask a police officer about the truth. There is an accident and if there is more than one witness there’ll be more than one absolute truth.

Since perhaps only scientists can understand absolutes, the rest of us have to recognise that there simply are no absolutes. The truth we see and tell others is based on our own preconceived ideas and experiences. We can believe something to be the truth but that doesn’t make it so. If you check social media, the truth can be had for a coin, a tiny virtual coin I don’t understand.

There is an old adage: ‘the squeaky wheel gets the grease’. It’s true. If you say something loud enough and long enough there is a section of society that will believe you. It doesn’t matter that you have no proof to back up what you have just said. Proof, as well, is open to interpretation. If five different people read the same book, you’ll often find five different interpretations of what the book was about. Some will see the internal angst that the characters have to deal with while others see the romance and others will be bored silly. Everything we see, do, hear, feel, experience is interpreted by our inner monologue.

Oh yes, the inner monologue. That annoying little commentator at the back of our brain that suggests having that second piece of pie would not be good for your hips. That conscience that reminds us we really should have taken out the garbage. The remembered voice of an old friend supporting us in our time of need. We all have an inner monologue. We just don’t always listen to it.  Is it telling us the truth? Is it showing us the truth without all of the trappings?

I always try to tell the truth. I joke that it’s easier to remember than a lie but there’s more to it. I’m telling you my truth because I respect you. Although when it comes to the awful truth, the hard truth or the ugly truth it becomes more difficult. Just because something is uncomfortable doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be shared. But then when the truth is just mean, I question the validity of sharing it. Does it do more good than harm? And that is when you need to talk to your conscience, your inner monologue. What is it saying?

Frozen in Time

Just for a moment,

They are frozen in time.

Their spirits have passed,

Their mark left in grime.

 

A quick sudden frost,

And footprints are left.

To mark someone’s passing,

Do not be bereft.

 

They simply walked by,

On a day in their life.

Mud took a snapshot,

A moment of strife.

 

Locked for a second,

And then frozen in place.

Captured in pictures,

For a moment of grace.

 

Time is immutable,

They tell me that’s true.

But I know the facts,

Truly I do.

 

Time is a moment,

A second in space.

It moves ever forward,

At its own leisure pace.

 

But it can be captured,

And kept for all time.

By the eye of a man,

And a woman of rhyme.

 

 

Once again I am inspired by a picture by Dan. He and his dog Maddie provide me with such pleasure on an ongoing basis. You can visit him at:  nofacilities.com.      You will never be disappointed!