I wish you a Merry Christmas...whoever or wherever you are....

Christmas here in Australia (OZ) is nothing like Christmas in Sweden, 

where I originally come from.

I guess one could say it is almost the opposite, well, weather wise at least.

I am perched on the edge of my seat as I am writing this, 

because you see, Christmases here means thunderstorms, 

incredible electric-storms, as in lightning-shows that makes one 

wanna join the cat and go and hide under the bed, and rain that whips the

windows and everything else as if we were living in the days

of Noah.

The heat is stifling, draining, and we are told at a 100% humidity,

which begs the question: Are we actually under water???

I mean, a 100%?  Does that not mean water?

Funny, water is. In Stockholm the water becomes snow, as in a solid, 

but here, it becomes a mist, a liquid, and at times..... 

a ''wall'' of water that will find a way into your abode.

Snow, .....white, solid, glistening, quietly staying on top of whatever it 

falls on, .... tropical thunderstorms, cyclones, and hurricanes,.... 

not so much, they tend to re-arrange everything in its way.

You know the song ''White Christmas''? 

It starts: ''I'm dreaming of a White Christmas..'', well, right now, 

with beads of sweat trickling down my neck, 

I could do with a bit of that.

Although I have lived here in OZ far longer than I lived in Sweden,  

I still find it hard to get into the Christmas spirit while 

the thermometer sits on 36 degrees cel. 

and Mother Nature reminds me of 

who really is the boss of me.

Alas, even so, I will celebrate Christmas with my family. We will have the

aircon on full bore, eat Christmas food, 

exchange presents, and have tinkling lights

in our man-made Christmas tree.

We will light candles, and remember our family members 

still over there, and hope that they will have a lovely 

white Christmas, good food, and a

great time together.

I know, that for some of us Christmas can be a very difficult time,

and this for a myriad of reasons, but .... 

putting on my rose-coloured glasses,

I believe that it can also be a time for reconciliation, forgiveness,

healing, hope, making new friends, getting in touch with

old friends, getting in touch with people we have lost 

contact with,  and putting love first.

For me, Christmas is foremost about love and kindness, 

about sharing quality time together with others,

 whether they be people we have known for a

lifetime or met just a few minutes ago.

And this we can do, whether we are sweltering away in a heatwave

or shivering in a snow blizzard, 

in the middle of the desert or in the middle of an ocean,

in our own homes or in someone else's,

together with old friends,

 or with strangers yet to become friends.

Merry Christmas and a Happy Bonzai New Year, dear reader,

and thanks for reading my blog.

Citizen Z

ps: Bonza, is a play on words, it's an Australian word for Excellent.

The mystery of Crows

I opened the front door, and there it was....again. I was bewildered.

We locked eyes. It tilted its head back and forth a few times,

but it did not move. There was something about the bird, this big, very

black bird that had me quite intrigued.

 In a number of different cultures, crows are often associated with mysticism,

wisdom, and as messengers from the ''spirit world'', etc.etc. 

As this particular crow seemingly out of nowhere just showed up one day,

and then kept showing up, I began to wonder if there was something

more to it than just happenstance.

Since crows are often associated with death and dying, I started to

entertain the notion (yes, I know, silly perhaps) that the bird had

something to do with the death of my best friend, whom we 

had buried just a week before the crow's first appearance.

I decided to embrace the mystery, started to call the bird Tommie 

(after my friend) and then began talking to it.

(Not that it ever answered, but there was something

weirdly comforting in having the bird around to talk to.)

You see, the grief I experienced at the loss of my friend 

had somehow made me unable to vocalize my feelings to anyone, 

so whenever I could, I sought solitude.

I listened to music, watched movies, read books, swam laps,

and spent a lot of time at the waters edge. 

Deep down I knew that talking to someone about my feelings

would probably be a very helpful thing to do, but I

had a three letter word sticking in my craw preventing me

from doing so: WHY?

Until, something very strange happened after I had asked

 Tommie the crow: WHY?

I had a dream, so vivid it felt real.

In the dream, Tommie (my friend, not the crow)appeared before

me, looking so real that I reached out to touch him.

But before I could do so, he held up his hands and said:''stop''.

''Listen to me, you don't need to touch me to know that I am

still around. Every time you think of me, I am with you, the

only difference now is that I am with you in your memories

and every time you think of me, rather than physically.''

I have no recollection of what happened next, I guess I woke up?

All I know is this: After I had that dream, my feelings of grief

were replaced by a lightness of heart and a wonderful sense

of peace.

And Tommie the crow?

I never saw him again.

But, interestingly, I was asked by some of my neighbors what happened to

 the big black crow that used to stand at my front gate in the mornings.

When the whales stop singing, we are in trouble........

The other day some folks found over a dozen dead whales on one our 

golden beaches. They tried to save them, but it was too late.

These beautiful, gentle giants of the ocean, musicians extraordinaire, 

seemingly had become unfortunate victims of this planets greatest and 

most effective ''beast'/predator'' of all: mankind.

Supposedly us human beings are gifted with the ability to reason, and that

ability is supposed to separate us from the ''beasts''.

If being able to reason is a gift, I don't think we are terribly good

stewards of it. What I mean is, we often

 use ''reason'' to explain why A is better/truer and more logical than B,

as in ''I am right you are wrong'', and so convinced,

with self-righteous conviction and determination off we go to ''battle''.

As we are supposedly superior to other living creatures due to 

our ability to reason, what we need, want and desire, 

is obviously what matters the most....(sarcasm).

I don't know about you, but I am worried about what we, mankind, is

doing to this planet and to all living things we share it with.

We may view ourselves as superior, after all, mankind has produced

incredible feats of many a kind; in the sciences, medicine, art,

 literature, architecture,  etc.etc. but perhaps

 it may be wise for us to remember that our progress 

has not been achieved without costs.

(Well, you know what I mean I am sure, so I wont go any deeper into what

the costs may be.)

What kind of planet will we have if we exhaust every

ocean of all its inhabitants,

if we lay bare all the lands of its trees,

if we pollute and poison all our feathered and winged creatures of the air,

if we abuse our good earth until it can no longer yield a crop?

In our pursuit of more.....more, more of everything,

will we in fact end up with nothing?

But, so far,

The whales are still singing, the birds still tweeting,

the insects still humming, the fish still jumping,

the lions still roaring, the horses still neighing,

the brooks still bubbling, the wheat still growing.

If reason is a gift, perhaps it is time for us to put it to good use

and figure out how we can sustain all forms of life, rather than

insisting on being ''right''. 

(Most of us have a need to be ''right'' more than anything

else, well, so says the smart ones.)

(I had a thought the other day; while human beings were busy with

dropping bombs and other nasty, destructive things on each

other(two world wars), were the whales still singing?)

Give peace a chance......

Before I started to paint, I used to do a lot of photography.

I would head off in the morning with my camera (not phone),

a few rolls of film, and eyes wide open. 

I wasn't interested in ''snap shots'', what I was looking for was

the peculiar, the strange, the un-expected, the mysterious, the split

second occurrence, the odd, the beautiful, and the outward

expressions of peoples behaviours and expressions while going 

about their lives. 

Once a week I would hand in my rolls of film to be developed,

have a coffee somewhere nearby while I was waiting, and then

with barely contained excitement I would pick up my ''loot''.

-Have you ever used Photoshop? the assistant asked.

-No, what is that? I asked.

-It's a photo editing program. Once you get a hang of how to use it,

it's a fantastic program, and a lot of fun to use. You should give it

a try, I think you will enjoy it.''

Long story short, once I procured my own copy of Photoshop,

I spent all my free time learning how to use it. The shop assistant

was right, I loved it. Not so much because it could be used to enhance

images and fix lighting issues etc., I loved it because using it I was able

to create totally new images out of ''old'' ones. 

The above image is such an image. Originally the photo depicted a renaissance

 influenced bronze sculpture of a woman, which in itself was nothing special,

what caught my attention however, was the look in her eyes.

So I cropped the image and focused on the face, ran it through 

a bunch of different filters, and while doing so, the word ''peace'' 

popped into my mind.

Peace, a small word, but a ''big'' concept.

It can mean so many different things: freedom from disturbances, stillness, 

calmness, harmony, quietude, etc.etc.

Peace can also be: a state or period in which there is no war, skirmishes, conflicts, 

discord, fighting, hostilities, etc.etc.

On a personal level, what does peace mean to us?

We do use terms such as peace of mind, peace loving, making peace, inner peace, 

at peace, etc.etc. in common parlance, but lately I have been wondering if peace, 

as far as humans are concerned, can ever become a permanent 

rather than a temporary state of mind.

If peace is the absence of conflict, discord and or contention, are we capable

of pursuing it first and foremost?

Perpetual  and

               Energetic  dedication to

   Acceptance  and

Charity   often

Evolves    into

Peace of Mind

Peace of Heart

                      Peace toward self and others

To quote two musicians: ''Give Peace a chance'' (John Lennon)

''When the power of love overcomes the love of power

 the world will know peace.'' (Jimi Hendrix)

A scary story, well,....depending on one's imagination

-No, don't! Stay where you are and don't make a sound.
Billy did what his brother said and crawled back under the table.
-Mum and dad will be back soon, all we gotta do is stay out of sight and totally quiet.
Billy could hear a slight wobble in his brother's voice and realized that his brother, though four years older, was probably scared too.
-Andrew, are you scared too?
-Sure I am Billy, but if we stick together we will be alright, don't worry, I will look after you.
Andrew looked at his watch for the umpteenth time as if looking at the watch somehow would make  time go faster. Where were they? They should have been back by now. Suddenly a branch from the maple tree smacked the kitchen window and Andrew wondered how long it would be before the window would shatter into a million pieces.
-Billy, just stay here, I have to go and check the window in the kitchen.
-No Andrew, don't leave me here, let me come with you. Please! I don't want to be alone.
-Okay, just walk behind me, but you gotta be quiet, alright?
Slowly edging their way to the kitchen, Andrew grabbed one of the fire pokers from the fire place poker stand. Not that he was at all sure of whether he would actually have it in him to hit somebody with it, but it made him feel a bit more at ease.  -For Billy I would, I would hit somebody if Billy was in danger. He tightened his grip of the fire poker as he pushed the kitchen door open.
                        There it was again, in the kitchen window, a face, a very scary face.
     Andrew dropped the poker on the floor, grabbed Billy's hand and shouted: -Run Billy, run!
They ran as fast as they could into the office, locked the door behind them and huddled behind the couch. With the wind outside roaring, the rain whipping the windows, and his arms tight around his brother, Andrew said a quiet prayer: -Please let the power come back on, please, please, please.
-Andrew, Billy said with a quivering voice, who was that?
-I don't know Billy, I didn't recognize the face. But, Andrew thought, we took off so quickly that I didn't really have the chance to see who it was. Andrew looked at his watch again. Ten past nine.
-Mum and dad said they would be home by nine at the latest, so don't worry Billy, they'll be here soon. Andrew hoped his words calmed Billy, but he was worried too. Storms and power cuts often interfered with traffic and perhaps they were stuck somewhere? Or worse, had an accident?
                 -How long do we have to stay here for Andrew? Andrew looked at his watch again. Twenty past nine. -Perhaps I need to go check the kitchen, see if that face is still there, Andrew thought to himself. Maybe there was no face at all, maybe we just imagined it? He decided that he had to investigate. -Billy, you need to stay here while I go and investigate. I will lock the door behind me so that no one can come in, you will be safe, okay? -Okay, Andrew, I'll wait here.
                    Andrew locked the office door behind him, then slowly walked towards the kitchen.
He stopped in the doorway to scan the kitchen. Nothing. No face. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Had they both just imagined the face? Nah, that can't be right...how could both of them have imagined the same thing? Suddenly feeling brave, Andrew stepped in to the kitchen, walked up to the window and looked out. Apart from broken branches, twigs, and a general mess of things,...nothing. The rain had almost stopped and the wind barely moved the leaves on the Maple tree. He let out a sigh of relief.
 With a spring in his step, Andrew ran to the office, unlocked the door and shouted: -You can come out now Billy, everything is okay! Billy slowly stood up from behind the couch then ran into the kitchen with Andrew following closely behind. -See, nothing here Billy! Andrew said victoriously.
While the two of them were standing in the middle of the kitchen, suddenly the lights came back on and the TV started up as if nothing had happened.
           Sitting in front of the TV and watching a Batman cartoon, Andrew turned to Billy and asked: --The face that you saw, what did it look like? After thinking for a few minutes Billy answered: -I saw a scary, dark face, with glowing eyes and it looked like he was wearing some kinda weird hat. -What did you see, Andrew? Andrew let out a Huh, then said:- I saw a dark, scary face too, but there were no glowing eyes, only normal looking but very dark eyes, and no hat, only a lot of wild hair.
                  -Do you think it was real, Andrew? Do you think somebody was really here?
-I don't know Billy, but it's over now, let's just watch Batman and forget all about it.
Andrew looked at his watch. 10:15 pm. Something must have happened to his parents. He was old enough to understand that for detectives and forensic investigators, normal work hours does not exist, but sometimes he wished they did.
          -Kids? Are you alright? We're back now. Sorry we are so late, but a psych inmate from the High Sec Prison at Glenfield Park escaped today during the storm.
            Have you had something to eat yet or are you starving?
                               Kids? Billy? Andrew?

Have you found your ''zone'' yet? Thoughts around ''flow''.......

After finishing up a painting, I found that I had a lot of left-over dabs of paint.

Since the possibility of getting the paint back into the tubes was nil, I decided 

to use the left-over paint to paint another painting.

Ever since I first picked up a paint brush, what I have found to be so enticing about painting,
is the sense of freedom I have experienced when I have
 put thinking to one side, and just

allowed my self to get lost in the process of pushing pigments around on a canvas.

Apparently, there is a word for that experience of getting ''lost'' whilst doing something

one enjoys so much that one loses all sense of time and place: ''Flow''.

(Although, some also term it: ''Being in the Zone''. I have a penchant towards calling it

''The dullification of the Brain'' chatter.)

Being able to take a break from the incessant chatter of the brain, if even for a few

minutes here and there, can be wonderfully refreshing and re-energizing in my view.

(According to some studies, on an average, a human being thinks around 70.000 thoughts each day.

Not that we are aware of them all, but that's a lot of activity '

for something that is basically done by a mass of fat and water methinks. 

Some liken the brain to a ''machine'' or a computer, and perhaps thinking of the brain that way may makes it easier for us to better understand what it is and what it does, but, even with all the new and exciting information and knowledge that we have these days with the help of ''the sciences of the brain'', we still don't seem to be able to answer the simple question why it works in the first place.)

                            The brain, even when we are asleep keeps chattering on, and although

we are not consciously aware of the chattering, it can still ''colour''  what our emotional state will be when we wake up. Ever gone to bed in a great mood and then woke up the next morning

feeling grumpy, anxious, irritated and on edge? Ever wondered why?

Some say that while we are busy sleeping, the subconscious is busy ''working'' on untangling our ''knots''. Ever gone to bed with your mind busy with trying to solve a problem, fallen asleep, and then when you woke up the next morning you suddenly knew the answer?

Ever wondered how that came about?

Ever found yourself so engrossed in doing something that it seemed to make time ''fly''?

In most human cultures, time (whether we view it as ''real'' or as a human construct) plays a pivotal role as far as human behaviour is concerned; we have schedules, routines, habits, calendars,

etc.etc. in short, we organise how we will use time.

Although we have quantified time as years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes and seconds, the way we experience the passing of those quantities, can vary greatly.

The way we experience an hour if we are in pain, if we are afraid, if we feel lonely, if we are lost, anxious, worried, nervous, stressed, angry, etc.etc. is very different to how we experience an hour when we are having fun, when we are absorbed in doing something we enjoy, when we are spending time with someone we love, when we are relaxing,  etc.etc. 

Though I do not know this for sure, I have a sneaky suspicion that when are having a ''bad'' time, the 

''negative and critical'' brain chatter seems to become louder

and more difficult to ignore, but when we are having a ''good'' time,

the opposite seem to be the case.

When we are in a state of flow/in the zone, the brain chatter seems

to become muted and relegated to the subconscious.

Michaly Cziksentmilhalyi, a Positive Psychologist and the man

 behind the term ''Flow" defines it this way: ''Being completely involved in an activity for 

its own sake. The Ego falls away. Time flies. Every action, movement

and thought follows inevitable from the previous one, like Jazz*. 

Your whole being is involved, and you are using your skills to the utmost.''

That's all fine, but how does one achieve it? you may ask.

Some suggestions:

Find out what you are passionate about, passionate enough

to be willing to invest time and effort into it.

It needs to have an element of challenge in it so that

you can see your improvements. As in, every time you

engage in the activity, your knowledge and skill level improves.

Setting goals can also be very helpful in ascertaining our progress.

Flow, as I see it, has a quality of mindfulness to it.

Allowing oneself to be totally absorbed and focused on doing the one activity (life-affirming)

holds the mind steady and firmly centered on the now.

ps. about the painting....

It is merely the outcome of painting whilst being in a state of flow, but, I did name it.....''Hope''

* why Jazz? Perhaps because to play Jazz a person needs to be able to compose on the spot, and in order to be able to do so, there is a requirement of a technical, theoretical, and improvisational skill level that can only be gained through years of dedication and hard work.

The Broken Doll Syndrome......

Last week somebody used a term that I had never come across before: ''The Broken Doll Syndrome''.

I decided to Google it, but it proved rather elusive. Trying a number of different word combinations, I eventually found the term ''White Knight Syndrome''. But, and I have a but, my life experiences have shown me that though the term is gender specific, the ''syndrome'' is not, so I will stick with the term ''broken doll syndrome'' for the purpose of this blog as that term applies to both women and men in my view.

''The Broken Doll Syndrome'' as I see it, is a term for a conscious or subconscious (or both) predilection towards seeking relationships with partners we feel we need to rescue, fix, or help become ''better'' people.

A Broken Doll, is often a person who has a history of physical or psychological abuse, trauma, addiction, turbulent and volatile relationships, and or deep-seated emotional issues.

The tortured and or misunderstood artist, the prostitute, the brilliant but shy genius, the ''hard-done-by'' man/woman, the ''diamond in the rough'' person, often attract the attention of someone who ''suffer'' with The Broken Doll Syndrome. Whether consciously or subconsciously, such a person often feels that they can help mend the broken doll, ''save'' him/her and make him/her whole.

The ultimate fantasy being that the broken doll will change and become the person that the person with The Broken Doll Syndrome envisages him/her to become once he/she is broken no more.

However, helping someone with a history of serious emotional or physical abuse, addiction and or trauma issues, is never easy and never a quick-fix. Broken Dolls can often be master manipulators, skillful deceptors, wizards at hiding their true feelings, thoughts, and intentions.

They will often use subtle methods of emotional blackmail to get what they want and need, but if subtlety does not work, they will often resort to ''full court press'', as in crying, yelling, threatening to xyz, invade every space with their presence (non-stop calling on the phone, showing up at the door, showing up at work, post stuff on the net), until finally, if they still don't get what they want, ...threatening to kill themselves.

Some years ago, I had a friend go through this and he nearly had a nervous breakdown in the process.

His broken doll used all the above methods (and then some).  My friend was torn between devastating guilt, a sense of utter failure, and self-deprecation. In the end, he decided to cut off all contact (including going places where she might show up) and no matter how guilty he felt, he would resist any notions of ''staying friends''. 

So, how does one know if one is a person with The Broken Doll Syndrome?

Some say that the The Broken Doll Syndrome is not really about the doll, rather it is about the emotional pay-off that comes with being the ''good guy/woman''.

''He/she is a hero putting up with him/her and all his/her issues. No matter what he/she does, he/she still keeps forgiving him/her.''

When I asked my friend why he had stayed with his ''doll'' for so long when she so often had hurt and upset him, he answered: ''Because I loved her''.

(How we define love, in my view has a lot to do with what kind of relationships we enter into.)

''How, or, in what way did you love her?'' I asked.

''What do you mean?'' he answered.

''I mean, what about her did you love that had nothing to do with you?''

He looked at me quizzically then answered: ''I loved how she made me feel wanted, how she made me feel as if I was a good protector and provider, and how she made me feel needed.''

''I see, but that doesn't really answer my question. What I am asking, is what about her you loved regardless of whether you were in a relationship with her or not.''

My friend remained quiet for a long time before he responded.

''To be honest, thinking back on it, I think I was so caught up in my own feelings that rather than dealing with the reality of how dysfunctional our relationship was, I made up excuses for why she treated me the way she did. She would do some crazy hurtful thing, but then she would tell me how much she needed me and didn't want me to leave her, which I guess I would chose to believe, ...because I wanted to.

I would catch her lying to me, press her on it, only for her to turn everything around and accuse me of not trusting her. If I asked her if she had paid the bills, she would accuse me of being a penny-pincher and that I was a lousy provider. Huh. Maybe I didn't love her? Maybe I was in-love with who I wanted her to be, not who she really was.....''

Sorry to repeat myself here, but for expediency's sake: ''The Broken Doll Syndrome'' as I see it, is a term for a conscious or subconscious (or both) predilection towards seeking relationships with partners we feel we need to rescue, fix, or help become ''better'' people.

Commonly relationships founded on one of us wanting to ''fix/rescue/save'' or change the other end up in a mess, ....often a very painful mess. So, I offer here my own definition of love in the hope that it may be useful:

''It seems to me that we love someone when we care more about the other as he or she is, rather than who we think they should become; when we reveal ourselves honestly and vulnerably, just as we offer the same for the other. We love someone when we act with patience, resilience, compassion, forgiveness, attention and a wholehearted commitment to their well-being.'' (Citizen Z)

Perhaps we may fall in love, but we choose to stay with love.

ps: If you find yourself choosing partners that tend to be Broken Dolls, perhaps asking yourself why you do so may be helpful.

The problem with saying: ''I know just how you feel.''..........

(My son has always been fascinated by sound; any kind of sound.)

There is a light, cool, breeze sweeping through the hospital food court every time the sliding doors open. I'm sitting at a functional-attached-to-the floor plastic table, I'm there and aware, yet not present.

A variety of smells waft through the air; curry, hot chips, coffee, stir-fry; with the occasional tinge of some kind of disinfectant.

Tempting as the aroma of coffee is, I am not yet ready for another coffee as I am still buzzing from the two I consumed earlier, so, luke warm water it is. Although I am surrounded by people coming and going, I barely notice them because my mind is elsewhere. My mind is busy hammering away at my little ''grey's'', my soul is groaning, and my heart is trying its best to stay intact. 

(Truth be told, lately I have had to pull out a fair few meters of ''gaffa tape'' to prevent my heart from breaking apart.)

Hospitals, whether I am sitting in a food court or a waiting room, make me feel uncomfortable, which I tend to put down to the fact that the last time I saw my beloved brother alive, was through a hospital window. And now, this very moment, here I am, in a hospital food court, waiting for my son to have yet another MRI done.

A few years ago my son was diagnosed with an incurable disease, a nasty one which involves tumors growing on nerve endings all through his body. Although the tumors are classified as benign and not malignant, when they grow inside the skull and along the spine, believe me, they are still able to cause a lot of pain and suffering. The experts are bewildered, one minute there's talk about surgery, and a date for the surgery is set only for it to be cancelled a few days before the due date. 

More MRI's and scans are done. Meanwhile - the tumors are growing and new ones show up with each MRI. As the tumors grow, so does my son's frustrations, fears, pain, and suffering.

They can't operate because the side effects would have terrible consequences; his face would droop, he would lose the use of his arms, he would lose his sense of taste, his hearing would be affected, and here is the kicker: the tumors would grow back. What is the name of this horrid disease? Schwannomatosis, and because it is such a rare disease, expert or no expert, nobody seems to know what to do, or how to effectively treat the pain my son is experiencing. 

Almost two hours have passed since my son went to have his MRI done, and I am starting to feel anxious. Writing this has helped me to stay somewhat calm, but I am finding it harder and harder to keep my little ''grey's'' from hijacking my emotions. 

What will the experts have found this time? What fresh new ''hell'' awaits us this time?

I feel tempted to phone somebody, to tell that somebody of my woes, but experience has taught me that doing so usually proves to be upsetting rather than comforting.

A common sentence that many of us often use when someone tells us of their troubles is: ''I know just how you feel'' and before we know it we are talking about our own woes rather than theirs. 

(Mea culpa= me too)

Mostly I think we use that sentence as a way for us to show support, understanding and camaraderie,

but I am just not so sure how helpful that sentence really is. I mean, can we really ''know'' what someone else may be feeling?

I don't know what my son is feeling as he deals with his illness, I only know what I feel watching him suffering with it. So I resist the urge to want to ''fix'' it, or to tell him that I know what he is feeling, instead I ask: ''Is there something I can do to help, would you like to tell me about how you are feeling right now?''

Three hours.

I put down my pen and walk over to the coffee shop and buy a coffee for me and my son.

Back at the plastic table I sit down then take a careful sip of coffee.

There. There he is. We make eye contact and he comes to my table.

He sits down on one of the plastic chairs, I hand him his coffee and ask: ''How did it go?"

''It was terrible!! The purple dye they injected in me made me feel like I was going to go crazy, it was that uncomfortable. At one stage I felt like I was just going to pull everything out and just walk out of there.''

''How do you feel now?' I ask.

''Oh, I am okay now, so let's just go,'' he says as he starts to walk toward the car park.

I want to ask him if he has been told what the result of the MRI was, or if there are any good news, or if they have found a medication that could ease his pain, but I say nothing.

I say nothing because my son has taught me that when he wants to talk about something, he will do so in his own time, and I respect that.

His own time comes in the car ride home from the hospital, and as he tells me of how he felt going through yet another uncomfortable and painful procedure, I marvel at his courage and bravery.

You see, my son has been prodded, hooked up on machines, had umpteen cannulas and other sharp objects stuck in to him, worn oxygen masks to help him breathe, swallowed handfuls of pills at the time, etc.etc. ever since he was barely a year old. He has dealt with health issues all his life, at times issues serious enough to bring him to the brink of death, but he has always dealt with those issues courageously and bravely.

And that's the thing about the line ''I know just how you feel'',  even if our intent when we use it is to show support, I am not so sure it's always interpreted that way. 

What we actually know and are truly capable of knowing, in my view is limited to our own feelings and emotions, but such being the case, that in no way prevents us from being compassionate and attentive listeners if or when someone shares their feelings with us.

Instead of saying ''I know just how you feel'', perhaps we can use the phrase ''It sounds like you are going through a really difficult time right now, can I help in any way?''

That way we will not assume to know something, rather, we will let others tell us with their own words what they are feeling and or going through.

(The above written in italics comes from a notebook that I write in while I wait for my son having tests done in the hospitals.)

Now and then, try a road less traveled.........

The boy opens his umbrella, and as the umbrella shelters him from the rain and the wind he feels safe enough to start walking. This is not a road he knows, but it is the road he knows he must travel in order to find what he is searching for.

On his way home a man notices another man crawling on the the ground under a streetlight. 

''What are you doing?'' he asks the man on the ground.

The man on the ground stops what he is doing, looks up at the man asking the question and answers:

''I'm looking for my house keys.''

''Let me help you'' says the first man as he bends down and begins to also search the ground for the keys.

Twenty minutes later and unsuccessful in finding any keys, the first man asks the man on the ground searching for his keys: ''Are you sure this is where you dropped your keys?''

''Nah,'' he says, ''but this is where the light is.''

Many of us have times in our lives when we feel as if we are searching for something, although exactly what that thing is, we don't know.

Often when we are beset by that gnawing feeling of that something is missing, we try to placate that feeling by trying different things. 

''I need to socialise more, I need to have more fun, I need to get a better job, I need more money, I need more friends, I need a bigger boat, a bigger house, etc.etc.''

Bombarded as we are by media, it can be easy to believe that for whatever ails us, the solution is good looks, fame and money. Good looks and money can certainly make life a bit easier at times, but neither looks or money can guarantee that we will not have moments of feeling lost, or that there is not something missing somehow. 

Regardless of our status, are human beings born with a need for knowing and understanding why we have life and what we are supposed to do with it?

This search for the meaning of life, (some call it the ''Human Condition'') does it have an answer, or is the answer the searching for it?

Have you ever had the experience when you feel that you are hungry, but you're not exactly sure what it is you are hungry for? If not, then in my case it goes something like this: ''Hmmm, I feel a bit hungry, but I'm not really sure of for what.'' I go to the fridge, open the door, and scan the content. Pull out one thing after the other, but nothing seems right. I close the fridge door and open the pantry door. Same thing, none of it seems right. I still feel hungry, I just don't know what I am hungry for so I grab some peanuts just because it's easy, and I do like them most of the time.''

If we are constantly feeling sorta ''hungry'', like there is something missing, and at the same time we are being bombarded with information telling us that what we need to do in order get rid of that uncomfortable feeling is lift that, tuck that, grow that, drink that, snort that, buy that, eat that, look like that, I don't think it strange if at times we feel confused and unsatisfied.

''Those who have a 'why' to live, can bear with almost any 'how', writes Victor Frankl in his book ''Man's search for Meaning''.

Many of us may feel that we are too busy just living to have the time to delve deeply into the 'why' so when that niggling and persistent thought raises its head, we often tend to try to get rid of it one way or another.

(Life however can be very unpredictable and it is quite possible that we may suddenly come face to face with circumstances in which being able to answer the 'why' is what will keep us alive.)

If you, like many of us, at times feel like you are searching for something that you don't even have a word for, try a few steps down the less traveled roads, do not fear the unknown, because once upon a time all we now know, was unknown.

Feeling lonely........

''No one is an island'' so the saying goes and commonly those words are interpreted as in meaning us humans don't do so good on our own.

If it was possible to weigh words (physical weight), then regardless of what language we may be speaking, I believe that there are some words that many of us experience as ''heavier'' than others.

Such as: death, loss(of anything we treasure), fear, illness, rejection, uncertainty, etc.etc. but I believe that perhaps the ''heaviest'' and on top of the list of ''heavy'' words may be loneliness.

Loneliness, without attaching emotions to it, can perhaps be defined as the lack of a meaningful connection with others.

In my view, there is often a lot of stigma attached to loneliness and often we rather use other words to describe how we feel rather than using the word lonely.

''I feel left out, I feel misunderstood, people don't seem to get me, I am a shy person, I prefer to observe rather than interact, etc.etc.'' Coming right out with it and saying ''I feel lonely'' can be scary because we often fear that doing so we will be judged, judged as weird, difficult, strange, and or as losers. (Sadly, that is often the case....Confessing that we feel lonely, commonly we will be judged, and although loneliness is not contagious, more often than not, sharing openly and honestly that we feel lonely tend to push people away rather than draw them closer.)

Although feeling lonely or left out is an experience I believe we all go through at some time or another in our lives, most of us probably prefer to label it something else and push it down into the darkest crevasses of our consciousness.

It may seem logical to conclude that if one has many friends, a family and a busy social life both in ''real life'' and on cyberspace, one would never feel lonely. Alas, those in the know say that it is not the number of connections we have that matters, rather, it is the quality (how meaningful) of the connections we have with others that matter. (Some of us may feel lonely in a crowd, and ''crowded'' when we are alone.)

Some say that each of us has a genetically set need for social inclusion, but how high or low that need is, varies from person to person. At this point one may be tempted to ask: ''Well, but surely there is a ''normal'' level of need for social inclusion?'' (I personally do not believe in ''normal'', I find that the term often cause more harm than benefit, so I will go with ''average'' instead.

Perhaps there is an average level of need for social inclusion, but how would one ascertain such?)

Depending on circumstances, our need for social interaction/inclusion may increase or decrease.

Sometimes we may seek solitude and few social interactions because rather than feeling lonely while we are spending time on our own, we need the solitude in order to consolidate and make sense out of our emotions. Yet, at other times we may seek to increase our level of social interaction in order to broaden our horizons and expand our circle of friends and acquaintances.

Belonging, according to Abraham Maslow, is a need all humans share, but just how much belonging we need, varies. If we feel that our ''belonging need'' is not being met, we commonly call that ''feeling lonely''. 

In my view, feeling lonely is not synonymous with being a loser, a weirdo, or some other pejorative term, rather, it is our inner selves warning us to not stray too far from the herd and so become easy prey for callous predators.

Some suggestions that may be helpful if you feel lonely and want to change that:

You are not alone in feeling lonely at times, we all do. It comes with being a human.

Feeling lonely, is just that, a feeling, and feelings can be changed.

Find someone to talk to about it. Preferably someone you trust.

Try to stay away from chastising yourself for things in the past,

past hurts, past mistakes, that was then, this is now.

Wherever you are, be there, be present in the now

and notice others.

Extend some kindness, to others and yourself.

''You are not a drop in the ocean.

You are the entire ocean in a drop.''

(Rumi)

''The greatest thing in the world is to know how to belong to oneself.''

(Michel de Montaigne)

Home....what does that mean to you?

Michael Buble sings in a song: "I wanna go home, just let me go home...''

For some of us, we know exactly what we mean with home and where it is.  Some of us may even say ''Home is where I lay my head down'', or  ''Home is where my heart is'', or ''My home is in my heart''.

Home has many different meanings: a particular place (among many), a place where one resides permanently, the place where one grew up, a place where one can relax and be one self, a place where one feels safe, a familiar and comfortable place, etc.etc.

(There are some of us who are perhaps still looking for ''home'', some of us who grew up in places that were chaotic, scary, dangerous, and void of love, affection and comfort.)

When I was 16 years old and experienced what I now know must have been a panic attack, I received a glimpse of understanding into that although home is a place, it is also ''metaphysical'' place.

It was no longer enough for me to just be at home in order to feel safe and relaxed, somehow I had to find a way to create a safe space inside of me (as in an emotional/metaphysical space) regardless of where I was or who I was with.

Closing my eyes, I can still see myself sitting on my bed, feeling shaky, lost, confused, and wondering how one goes about the task of creating a ''home'' that exists only internally, in an invisible haystack called emotions.

(Without going in to details, the home in which I grew up in was not void of turbulence, emotional upheavals or crisis's, neither was my childhood a particularly easy one, but I did feel safe in my home.)

Some say that it is in our nature to seek a place where we belong, where we feel safe and secure, a place where we can close the door and shut out the rest of the world and all its worries.

Some say that home is not really a place, home is people, people who love you and accept you warts and all.

Some say that home is not a place, nor a person or persons, it's a feeling.

Alain de Botton has this to say: ''We need a home in the psychological sense as much as we need one in the physical: to compensate for a vulnerability. We need a refuge to shore up our states of mind, because so much of the world is opposed to our allegiances. We need our rooms to align us with desirable versions of ourselves and to keep alive the important, evanescent sides of us.''

Regardless of whether we live under a bridge or a cardboard box, or any kind of temporary housing arrangement, many of us often find that we seem to carry with us a ''nesting'' tendency.

(Even if what we have is only a cardboard box, a sleeping bag and a few other bits and pieces, many of us will try to make a ''nest'' with those few items, or something although very rudimentary,...feels to us as ''home''.)

During a particularly difficult time in my life, my ''nest'' consisted of a mattress under a dining table in a friends apartment and my wardrobe that of plastic bags hidden behind a door. Spartan as it was, after a few days, it did feel like home to me.

I have lost count of how many times I have shifted from one ''nest'' to another and I am not really sure of exactly when the phrase ''My home is in my heart'' popped up, what I do know however, is that that phrase has helped me to find a space within me that I call home regardless of my exterior circumstances.

(Perhaps, should you need it, it may help you too?)

Holding a hot cup of coffee in his hands, he smiled his winning smile and nodded his head in my direction. I walked up to him and said: Theo, you look happy, something good has happened?

In his heavily accented voice and grinning Theo answered: ''Yes, indeed sir, something very good.''

(Theo was one of the many homeless people who would come to our bus every Friday night and be given a hot drink, some food, and a warm blanket.)

''Tell me Theo, what is your good news? I asked.

''I now have an address again!! I have a job, only as a dishwasher and not engineer, but because I have a job, I can now look for accommodation!!! Theo shouted excitedly.

''Fantastic!! I shouted back.

               (Theo left his home country because he was offered a job as a building engineer here in Australia, and because he had relatives already established here on a permanent visa, he took the plunge.

Three months later the business collapsed, he lost his job, and losing his job meant that he could not pay rent. Not being able to pay rent, he was told by his relatives to leave, and since he had only been in the country for a few months, he was not entitled to any assistance from the government.

                 He ended up homeless. In order to be able to receive any financial assistance, he had to have a permanent address, but in order for him to have an address, he had to have a job. Theo spent his time from dawn to dusk for months trying to get a job, any job, without any success, but, he never gave up trying, and he never complained.)

''Well done Theo, I wish you all the best with everything, you so deserve it! Let us know next time you come how it all went, I said to a beaming Theo.

''I will, and I will give you my address too,'' and with those words he walked out of the car park where our bus was stationed.

Theo's experience made me acutely aware of something that I had never thought of before; the importance of having a permanent address.

Living, as many of us are, in a meritocracy, it can be easy to become judgmental and harsh when it comes to ''homeless people''. As in: ''If people have a lot, it's because they earned/deserved it, so then it's only logical to conclude that those who have nothing, earned/deserved that as well.''

In my view, people can become homeless for a myriad of different reasons, none of which may necessarily have anything to do with earning or deserving it.

Life, may I suggest, is a hypothesis, not a foregone conclusion, sometimes things happens over which we have little say (war, natural disaster, sickness, drought, famine, etc.etc.) and suddenly our circumstances have changed. 

  Regardless of our exterior circumstances, if our home is in our heart,

we are always at home.

What is pain?....read on to get different perspectives......

There are many words that mean very different things to different people.

My opinion of words is that words are mere approximations, and more

often than not, we apply our very own interpretations and definitions

to words which at times end in congruent outcomes, but at other times

end in misunderstandings and confrontations.

Pain, is one of those words in my view.

"What is pain?'' a child asked a doctor.

''A scale of the numbers one to ten,'' answered the doctor.

''What is pain?" a sapling asked a tree.

''A never-ending chain-saw,'' answered the tree.

''What is pain?'' a foal asked its mother.

''A saddle and a bridle,'' answered the mother.

''What is pain?'' a puppy asked its mother.

''A muzzle and a leash,'' answered the mother.

''What is pain?'' a chick asked its mother.

''Thanksgiving,'' answered the mother.

''What is pain?'' a cub asked its mother.

''A bullet or an arrow,'' answered the mother.

''What is pain?, a kitten asked its mother.

''A cruel child,'' answered the mother.

''What is pain?'' one tooth asked another.

''Sugar,'' answered the other tooth.

''What is pain?'' one toy Teddy asked another.

''Being disregarded,'' answered the other toy Teddy.

''What is pain?'' a flower asked another flower.

''Being cut down,'' answered the other flower.

''What is pain?'' one oyster asked its mother.

''The beginnings of a pearl,'' answered the mother.

''What is pain?'' the student asked his teacher.

''The Master of all teachers,'' answered the teacher.

''What is pain?'' the four winds, the oceans, the forests, the deserts, 

the lakes, the mountains, the airs, the animals, the flowers, the critters,

asked each other.

''Human kind,'' answered the four winds, the oceans, the forests, the deserts, 

the lakes, the mountains, the airs, the animals, the flowers, the critters.

(Citizen Z)

Change...a good thing, yeah? Well, perhaps not always......

Change, they say, is inevitable.

How we deal with change is up to each of us, so they also say.

Some change may be incremental, some sudden and imposed.

Change is often viewed as progress, improvement and growth,

but this I wonder, .....is this always so?

Change, is the first word in a chain of reactions,

once we embrace it, next comes actions.

Out with the old, in with the new,

what we know, becomes what we knew.

Progress we are told, comes with a cost,

we must forget about the past and what may be lost.

With excitement, curiosity and anticipation,

we must fix our gaze firmly, ..toward the horizon.

Then at a distance we may dimly see,

the potential of change and it's possibilities.

To embrace any change, we must let go of the old,

to not look back, but forward we're told.

Much as we may wish to apply change to the past,

it can not be done, nay, that die has been cast. 

Change, you see, yes, it's very nature,

belongs to right now, and to the future.

[Citizen z]

Here is what I often ponder; does not the word change infer that it is something not set in cement?

The change to the ''way of life'' that was imposed on the Native American's (Indigenous American's), Australian Indigenous People, and all other peoples and nations that have been subjected to invasions by other countries, has had dire consequences for those peoples, their cultures, their health and well-fare, the well-being of their hearts and minds, and their customs.

The ''change'' that the invaders brought with them may have been classified by the invaders as   ''progress'', but history will attest to the fact that rather than progress, the changes they imposed on the indigenous peoples, has had catastrophic outcomes.

So, maybe it is time for a change?

Maybe it is time to support and listen, and to ask what the peoples of the ''invaded nations'' would consider to be helpful in order to promote a congruous and peaceful co-existence? 

Every new day offers an opportunity for change...for you, for me, for all of us .....

Well, that is my hope anyway......

ps: about the painting, the native american medicine woman is releasing the "states" thru the blue window..( where usually the stars are...)

On expressing oneself............

In 1989 Madonna released a song titled ''Express Yourself''...
Some of us express ourselves using words, some through music, some through sculpting,
some through physical activities, etc.etc......and some through dance.
Some folks hear music and immediately feel the urge to move their bodies.
(Take children for instance, put on some music with a strong beat and more often than not they will begin to move their bodies.)
Some years ago, one of my nieces introduced me to Trance Music, a form of electronically driven music, and thus began my journey of exploration into EDM, Electronic Dance Music.
I asked my niece what it was about Trance Music that she liked so much and she told me that it made her feel good. ''Okay, but why does it make you feel good?'' I asked. ''I don't know, it just feels good to dance with a lot of people all together, no one if arguing or fighting, everyone is at peace and just dancing, it feels like a happiness thing,'' she responded.
''Are there specific moves one does when one dances to Trance Music?''
''Nah, everyone just expresses themselves through their own way of dancing'.''
''What bands playing Trance do you like?''
''Not bands, Dee-Jay's, sometimes there may be two Dee-Jay's but mostly its just one person running the show. My favorite Dee-Jay is Tiesto.''
After listening to hours worth of EDM music I concluded that Tiesto was may favorite as well, but the music had begun to wear me out, catchy and driving as it was, for me there was something missing. (I did find however that it was an excellent kind of music to work out to.)
According to those in the know, we all have a need to express ourselves, to express our emotions/feelings one way or another, and we do so either through words, actions or movement.
Some put this need down to that we are social beings, and that in order to function together we need to get along and we do so when we understand each other.
But there is a but, expressing ourselves may often be helpful, but in my view, considering time and place as well as how it will affect others, is in my view equally important.
Some feelings, like anger, frustration, irritation, sadness or worry, can be hard to restrain but if we express our feelings in a somewhat calm manner, chances are that others may respond more compassionately to us than if we do so for instance loudly and in the middle of a social setting.
Being able to communicate our feelings in a constructive and helpful way often takes practice, often beginning with us understanding and recognizing the feelings we are having, and where they come from.
''Managing your emotions does not mean you don't express yourself; it means you stop short of hurting others and sabotaging yourself.'' [Sue Fitzmaurice]

''There are times in life when words just don't seem enough,
enough to adequately define what it is that we feel,
those are the times when we may
have to get up and dance,
sing at the top of our lungs,
paint as if our lives depended on it,
get lost in a movie or two,
sculpt a something out of nothing,
listen to music we've never ever heard before,
and stare into a painting we don't understand.

or

we may need to
jump in puddles of water,
run with the wind,
swim in the sea,
fly a kite,
sleep with the windows open,
laze in front of an open fire,
smile til our cheeks hurt,
cry until we're empty,
dig a big hole,
then fill it again,
see, the crux of the thing,
is a simple, simple thing,
express yourself,
that's the thing.''

[My mother has a passion for ballet, whether on ice or on boards,
for me however, it was always about the music they danced to until
I watched a ballet called ''Rite of Spring'' with music composed by Igor Stravinsky.
Suddenly I connected not only with the music but also with the movements of the dancers,
which led me to have a period when I feverishly sketched dancers, and the above is one of those sketches.]

Beneath every human exterior beats a heart......looks aren't everything.....

There is a saying: ''What you see is what you get''......but what if what you see is not what you get?

We put much stock into what we see with our eyes, but here's the thing; what we see is very much influenced by our biases, prejudices, perceptions, previous experiences, etc.etc. because we do not only see [as in the function of the eyes] with our eyes, we also see with our understanding of and interpretation of what it is we are seeing.

(We say ''I see what you mean'', but we don't actually see it with our eyes, we see it with our minds/understanding/perceptions.)

Joseph Carey Merrick, often known as John Merrick, The Elephant man, was in many peoples eyes viewed as a freak, a monster, until someone took the time to get to know him and discovered that he was a highly intelligent, gentle and insightful human being. The way he looked, they discovered, had very little to do with who he was as a human being.

It can be easy to make snap judgments about people by the way they dress, the way they speak, the way they carry themselves, the way they look, and often once we have made a judgement it can be difficult to change it.

There is another saying: ''You can't judge a book by the cover.''

More often than not, our first impressions of something or someone is exactly that, a judgement determined by our impressions of the ''cover''.

The cover however, tells us nothing of the substance beneath that cover.

This was evident to me the other day when I took a bite out of a beautiful looking apple, only to discover that it was rotten underneath its glossy and ruby red cover.

(Not to mention the times I have cracked an egg into the frying pan only to discover that the shell was the only thing about the egg that was not off.)

According to those in the know, beauty attracts....human beings, animals, insects, etc. so the way a ''cover'' looks is important but so is substance, because if the substance is ''rotten'' then we are inclined to disregard the cover no matter how beautiful and or attractive it is.

Which makes me ponder oysters,......their cover would probably not be considered beautiful or attractive, yet someone at some time, decided to push past the outer cover and look inside and in doing so found something regarded by many as very beautiful, ....a glistening, precious pearl. 

(That's the thing, a beautiful and attractive cover does not necessarily mean that underneath its cover there is a beautiful and attractive interior/substance, just as an unattractive or ''ugly'' cover does not necessarily mean that underneath its cover there is an ugly or unattractive interior/substance.)

Okay, so enough pre-amble......some of us look in the mirror and do not like what we see, we see this wrong, that too small, that too big, etc.etc. and in our own eyes, we don't measure up.

We may even think thoughts like: If only I was better looking.......then my life would be so much better, I would have more friends, more people would like me, etc.etc....which in my view is understandable since we probably attach more importance to ''looks'' in today's society than ever before. But, looks, like anything organic, has a use by date, wheres substance such as insight, wisdom, and compassion, does not. 

(Socrates, a Greek philosopher who died in 399, BC, was described as a short and ugly man, never wrote down any of his philosophies, yet his ''substance'' remains with us 2000 odd years later.)

In my view, there is a sense of freedom and inner strength in embracing who we are, accepting those bits of ourselves we cannot change (as in for instance how tall we are) and changing the things about ourselves we cannot accept.

All of us will one day look a bit like ''oysters'' if we are lucky enough to live long lives, what we may have to decide however is whether the substance we leave behind will contain a glistening, precious pearl.

''Nobody is superior, nobody is inferior,

but nobody is equal either.

People are simply unique,

incomparable.

You are you,

and I am I.''

[Osho]

(the above image is made with graphite)