And then The Beatles came along and changed everything.........

The Beatles.

For many years there was one item on top of my Christmas

wish list: The Beatles latest album.

What was so special about The Beatles?

A lot. 

The lyrics, the harmonies, the beautifully crafted

melodies, the depth and quality of their compositions,

and their bravery and willingness of crossing existing and 

assumed musical boundaries.

For some of us music is just, well,....music. 

We either like what we hear or we don't, and more

often than not, we decide so very quickly.

Our judgement is more often than not based purely on taste and

 on whether we connect with the music or not.

Most of us don't ask ourselves why we like or

dislike different kinds of music, we just ''know''.

''I don't like jazz/classical/rock/blues/country etc.

etc. music.''

''Why? What don't you like about it?''

''It's not my thing, I know what I like and that's the

music I listen to.''

According to Spotify, there are over 1.300 different

genres(category/type) of music in the world.

(Well, today,....tomorrow there may be 1.301.)

In the early sixties, which is when The Beatles first sprang

forth, there were a lot less genres of music and a lot more resistance

to ''new'' music then there is today.

Music? You call that music???!!

That's not music!! Frank Sinatra, Duke Ellington, Mozart,

Beethoven, now that's music!!! 

Why, those guys with their long hair and screeching guitars

don't even know how to play properly!!!

Comments containing words similar to the above

has probably been tossed about ever since ''organized'' music 

was invented.

Organized as in defining pitch, rules for harmonic and melodic

structures, forms and tonalities.

Once we figured out how to notate and then later record music however,

 music started to ''travel'', it became possible to hear music from

most parts of the globe.

Composers, song writers and musicians, began to incorporate

different elements of the music they heard into

their own music.

 Introducing different sounding scales, harmonies,

melodies and rhythms. Even at times learning how to

play instruments they had never seen or heard before such as

tabla drums, sitars, pan flutes etc. etc.

The first pop release(allegedly) to feature sitar (a stringed instrument

related to the lute family popular in India) was ''Norwegian Wood'',

a track on the album ''Rubber Soul'' by The Beatles, released

in December 1965. 

On every album that The Beatles released until they broke up

in April 1970, they managed through extraordinary creativity

and imagination to come up with new ideas.

Not only musically and lyrically, but also technically.

They introduced using feedback loops, psychedelic sounds,

playing sounds in reverse, randomly taping together cut pieces

of tape and more. 

Commonly The Beatles is regarded as

the foremost and most influential band in popular

music history. Not only did they influence the music

industry, they also influenced the cultural and social

revolution in the 1960's.

Although music perhaps for many of us may primarily be

something we use to work out to, dance to, relax with,

have in the background, set the mood with, put

children to bed with, etc. etc. it can be so much more than

that if we let it.

Music is a language that needs no translation, it ''expresses

that which cannot be said and on which it is

impossible to remain silent.'' (Victor Hugo)

''You can't love music without loving The Beatles.''

(Nick Cannon)

''The Beatles blew the walls down for everybody else.''

(Barack Obama)

''The Beatles completely turned the world upside down.''

(Phil Collins)

about the image: acrylic on large canvas

The American Geisha.......

(Now, before you assume that this is a pro or against

America post, let me assure you that it is neither. 

Merely some observations of mine made during

and after spending some time there. Five months.)

From the minute I heard Bessie Smith bellow out

''Give me a pig foot and a bottle of beer'' I knew that

when I grew up I wanted to be a Jazz pianist.

(Considering that I was only three years old when I 

made that decision, one may wonder what on

earth a Swedish toddler could possibly have connected

with listening to Jazz.)

Fast forward some 30 years and I am stepping off a plane

 in Atlanta, Georgia. Through circumstances, hard work and some luck

I have been invited to perform at a huge Music festival 

in Birmingham, Alabama.

Verna, a friend of the family picks me up in Atlanta and

we drive to Birmingham. Once in her little flat, situated in

the heart of Birmingham, jetlag kicks in and I zonk out

on the bed she has prepared for me.

16 hours later, I wake up. Verna is gone, but she has left

a note telling me she is at work.

I decide to go exploring.

Observation 1: Birmingham in the summer is just as

relentlessly hot and humid as it is in Queensland, Australia.

Observation 2: What Americans call ''coffee'' seems to

be what I would call ''coffee flavoured hot water''.

Observation 3: Generally people are friendly and polite, although

their southern drawl do take some getting used to. But

I find it smooth and very musical, I really like it.

Observation 4: Finding any kind of food without any sugar in it

proves a very difficult task. There is even sugar in most breads!!

No wonder there is an obesity problem in this country.

Observation 5: Every kind of ''space'' is air-conditioned.

Arctic winds greet me where ever I go.

I can't help but wonder how much energy is expended

on keeping those air-cons going all the time.

Observation 6: There seems to be an endless array of fast-food

outlets. Fatty foods, deep-fried foods, ribs soaked in sweet

sauces, steaks the size of dinner plates, chips in buckets,

and soft drinks....oh man, more like tubs than cups.

Observation 7: Being a vegetarian in Birmingham one

has to be prepared to do some serious research if one

wants to have a choice of salads or non-sugared, non-sauce

 drenched healthy meals. 

Observation 8: Cars are very clearly the choice of transport.

Everything seemingly can be done while remaining seated 

in the car. Even ATM banking. 

Observation 9: ''Big'' seems to be the operative word.

Big people, big portions, big illusions, big problems,

big dreams, big ideas, big opportunities, big difference between

the have and have-nots, the cities and the suburbs, etc. etc.

Observation 10: Winning, or being a winner, seems to be at

the pinnacle of achievement, the driving motivation behind

most actions, although, winning often seems to be measured in 

dollars more than anything else..

Observation 11: Addictions of all varying kinds seems to

have got its teeth into a large number of Americans, but

it seems perhaps that food-addiction may be the most

insidious one of them all. 

Wandering around in a T.J. Max store in Birmingham

I quickly realized that one way of deluding people of

their ''real'' size is to change the sizing parameters.

What used to be Large, call that Small. 

(Trying on a pair of so called ''Small'' jeans in the

shop I discovered the ruse and found that I needed

xx-Small.)

Observation 12: America is an enigma. It seems to me

paradoxical. So much of the best, so much of the worst,

so much hope, so much despair, so many super rich,

so many super poor, so much creativity, so much 

conformity, so much corruption, so much courage,

and the list goes on.

Finally, in my very personal view, regardless of 

its pluses and minuses, I believe this planet is better off

with a USA than without. 

Though it may be stumbling to live up to the Bill of Rights

and their Constitution, USA gave birth to Blues and Jazz music,

and without that music, would there be any rock, pop, rap, trap, 

Jazz, fusion, etc. etc. music today?

''What is my definition of Jazz?

Safe sex of the highest order.''

(Kurt Vonnegut)

about the painting: Acrylic on large canvas.

Why is it called American Geisha?

This rather large American woman believes in magic; 

the wand in her hand. She believes that no matter her

size she is still a princess; the tiara on her head.

Dancing is for everyone no matter the size; the ''tutu''.

Her face is beautiful; the geisha mask represents timeless

beauty.

The American Flag wings held on her back by rhinestones; 

She is an American Dreamer.

The little mammal who brought down mankind.........

Some time ago I watched a documentary that step

by step hypothetically illustrated what would become

of earth if humans were removed from it.

According to the documentary, 10.000 years from now

it is possible (so Weisman suggests) that all that

 may remain as evidence of human kind having inhabited

 planet Earth, may be remnants of constructions made from stone.

Are we perhaps to conclude from this that earth would be ''better

off'' without human beings?

Yes? No? Well, how could we know if none of us would be

on earth to observe and record events?

From a human perspective, we have come up with some

cracking ideas and achievements, I mean, the list

is very long indeed, but let us not fool ourselves, 

there is also a very long list of catastrophic and

devastatingly damaging ''achievements'' perpetrated

by us.

All our achievements whether good and bad have

come at a cost, and now and then through history

we have been reminded that powerful as we may be,

we are not really in charge of this planet,

we just think we are.

One of those reminders is: Deadly Infectious Diseases.

Deadly infectious diseases such as the Bubonic Plague, 

Smallpox, Yellow fever, The Flu, HIV, Ebola, etc. etc.

are serious reminders of how quickly we can be brought

to our knees by an enemy that can only be seen through

a microscope. It does not care about who we are, what

language we speak, what religion or belief system we 

adhere to, what our social status or the hue of our skin is.

But worst of all perhaps, is that this enemy is able to

mutate, to transform itself into a new kind of virus (Covid19)

should mankind manage to come up with an ''antidote/vaccine''

that kills the original virus.

We battle on.

Another reminder: Nature.

Bushfires, erupting volcanoes, droughts, floods, cyclones,

tornadoes, earth-quakes, etc. etc.

In as much as we can prepare, follow progress with satellites,

make predictions, assumptions, graphs and so on, we

are not in charge of exactly when and where these events will actually

take place.

On the way home from a gig I was once caught up in a mini-cyclone.

Luckily for me, my small car was full of my music equipment

which made it heavier than usual. The freeway was bumper to bumper

and I was moving forward at snail pace until the traffic stopped

altogether. I had heard somewhere that the thing to do was

to open all windows and let the wind blow through, so

that's what I did. It seemed to work because the car stopped

''hovering'' although it got pretty wet I must say.

Looking through the windscreen I saw trees, and a lot

of debris fly by, actually.... even a caravan!

I can't remember how long I was stuck on the freeway bridge

but I was mighty glad when the mini-cyclone eventually passed.

And another reminder: Space

Solar flares, asteroids, the sun expanding, gamma ray bursts,

super nova explosions, falling space junk, holes in the

ozone layer etc. etc.

These events we have little control over.

We may explore space, but in my view, we are not in charge of it,

ipso facto, we are not really in charge of earth and what happens to it.

Only certain aspects.

''A human being is part of the whole called by us Universe,

a part limited in time and space.

He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something

separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his

consciousness.

This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to

our personal desires and to affection for a few persons

nearest to us.

Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison

by widening our circle of compassion to embrace

all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.''

(Albert Einstein)

about the image: ink pen on paper, edited in Photoshop.

The thought behind it is how the Bubonic Plague was

supposed to be spread by rats, although I did draw a mouse

instead. (I like mice better than rats)

The trouble with feelings...........

Since I began this blog seven or eight years ago, I have posted a new

''bit'' every Monday. Until the last few weeks that is. Though some

 may suggest that the possibility that I could run out of things to say, 

stories to tell, or just prattle on is near impossible, alas, the impossible

has become possible.

Two weeks ago my father died.

Some may prefer to use the terms ''slipped away, ''passed on'', ''crossed over'', 

or some other fancy euphemisms for ''died'', but for me the word died works fine.

He was buried last Friday at a small funeral attended by his closest and

dearest. There was music, a lot of flowers, a slide show and some very 

thoughtful and sincere speeches.

Standing outside the chapel and watching the hearse drive away,

a friend of the family came up to me, put his arms around me and

asked: How do you feel? 

Feel? Good question. What was I feeling?

I had no clue, but I needed to answer so I took the easy way out and

answered: Sad. 

My father's death was not un-expected, nor was it gentle, nay,

rather the opposite. According to the doctors and nurses who

looked after him through his last four weeks, my

father was angry and adversarial until his very last breath.

''Rage, rage against the dying of the light...'' Dylan Thomas penned

years ago and my father obviously heeded those words.

Before my father's body was transferred to the morgue my family

was given the opportunity to say a last farewell.

My last visits with my father (when he was still alive) had been very difficult.

Though barely more than skin and bones, he was still able 

to yell insults at me and order me about.

The nurses and my mother tried to comfort me by telling me:

 ''Don't take it to heart what he says, he doesn't really mean it.''

(I tried to heed their words, but I didn't always succeed.)

Nonetheless, I did decide to say a last goodbye.

Arms around each other's shoulders, my mother and I entered

my father's room for the last time. The room was still, peaceful,

and softly lit by a few rays of sunlight forcing their way through the almost

drawn blinds. 

My father looked at peace. Gone was the anger, pain and fear.

I placed my hand on his forehead and said a few soothing words.

After arrangements had been organized with the staff, I left the hospital.

Driving home from the hospital I tried to decipher my feelings.

I felt tired, my eyes were smarting, I felt as if I had a lump in my throat,

but mostly, I felt bewildered and numb.

Now, a week since the funeral, I am still struggling with getting

to the core of what I am feeling. Feelings, it seems to me,

 can be extremely confounding and perplex.

(Much like a Rubik's cube my mind keeps twisting and

turning, trying to line up the colors(feelings) so I can

name them. 

Yellow= melancholy, blue=sadness, red=anger,

and so on.

However, there are supposedly 43 quintillion possible

configurations on a Rubik's cube which leads me to wonder:

Is it the same with feelings?)

Is it possible to experience feelings without actually being

able to give them a ''proper'' name? 

Like: I feel like a matchbox floating on the open

ocean, or I feel like a soggy log in a roaring fire, or I feel like pearl in

 an oyster shell, or I feel like a car with no brakes, or I feel like

an open wound, or I feel like a blade of grass trying to push

my way through newly laid asphalt, or I feel

like a nebulous cloud, etc. etc.........

How am I feeling? 

The question seems to have become a bit of

 a conundrum for me.  Knowing just how large the

list of ''feeling'' words is and having used many of them

on many occasions, this perplexes me.

Is it perhaps possible to become ''verbally constipated''?

(As in; trying as hard as you can, you just can't find any words

that properly defines/describes/identifies what you are feeling.)

The closest I seem to be able to describe what I am feeling is:

I feel like: the Second movement of Rachmaninov's Piano

Concerto in C Minor, I feel like: ''Blue in Green'' by Miles Davis,

I feel like: ''Almost Blue'' with Chet Baker and Bill Evans.

Often we simplify or perhaps one could say condense complex

feelings in to ''easy access'' terms: I feel sad, I feel happy, I feel good,

I feel bad, I feel lonely, I feel scared, I feel safe, etc. etc.

In my experience however, useful as those terms are, they can

also be quite limiting.

When my brother died I felt as if the sun

 was never going to come out again. 

When my closest friend died I felt as if

 a corner of my heart was gone forever. 

When my best friend died I felt as if

flowers lost their fragrance, music lost

its purpose and words lost their meaning.

How do I feel at the death of my father?

I feel like: the Second movement of Rachmaninov's Piano

Concerto in C Minor, I feel like: ''Blue in Green'' by Miles Davis,

I feel like: ''Almost Blue'' with Chet Baker and Bill Evans.

about the painting: acrylic on large canvas

(for the purpose of the blog I added a little bit

of editing in photoshop for the frame and text.)

Aiming at everything there's a great possibility that you'll hit nothing.......

 So, what seems to be the problem Mr. Jones? asks

the doctor.

Everything and everywhere seems to hurt, answers

Mr. Jones.

Can you please be a bit more specific Mr. Jones?

For me to be able to diagnose what the cause of

your pain is, I will need you to be a bit more precise.

Unspecified, anything can be anything.

A cough can be pneumonia, a stomach ache can be

colon cancer, a headache can be a tumor, a temporary

memory lapse the beginning of dementia, fatigue and

listlessness the signs of depression etc. etc.

A careless remark can be interpreted as a sign of disrespect, 

silence can be interpreted as a sign of passive aggressive behaviour,

tears can be interpreted as a sign of emotional blackmail,

and the list goes on.

I may be wrong, but I have a feeling that many of us have

probably sought out Dr. Google in search for answers to

what does it mean when... or what are the symptom's for...?

Searching for possible answers that may explain what

may be wrong with or troubles us, often one discovers that

there are numerous possibilities.

And until we begin to cull some of the possibilities, 

all possibilities are viable. 

If asked: what's wrong? it may be easier to just say 

everything!, but if we want to try to solve, or fix, or

overcome, or deal with something, it is

often far more useful and helpful to be specific.

If we can identify specifically what is troubling us, the chance of us 

being able to deal/sort/fix/accept the problem greatly

improves. Trying to fix everything is a tall order, trying

to fix one of the ''things'' one at the time, far easier in my view. 

Feelings can often be complex and it can be quite tricky to

be able to identify what is what and what the origin of those

feelings are. 

It may seem simplistic, but I often find it helpful to ask

myself why am I feeling this way? and what was I thinking

before I started to feel this way?

In my experience, thoughts often precede feelings, as 

in: our feelings are a response to our thoughts rather than the

other way around. (Except for feelings as a result of a physical event)

In my previous post I mention expectation bias. (Basically it

means when our expectations about an outcome influence our

perceptions of our own and others' behaviour.)

Pondering the complexity of emotions and trying to

answer ''why am I feeling this way'', it occurred to me

how much met and unmet expectations have to do with 

how I respond emotionally to a number of different

situations/events.

     Someone jumps the line                annoyed   anger   sadness   don't care

Someone cuts you off in traffic                                                           

 Someone is rude to you                                                                        

Someone makes fun of you                                                                  

Someone bumps in to you                                                                    

Someone stands you up                                                                        

etc. etc. etc.

 

                             After two hours of waiting had passed, I decided to leave.

I felt rejected, sad and quite upset. Couldn't she at least have

called me to tell me she wasn't coming?  I thought she was a friend and friends

don't just not show up without an explanation. (Expectation bias)

Two weeks later my friend called me. She said nothing about

not showing up. Still upset, I decided to ask her why she didn't show.

''Oh, that, yes, well, I lost track of the time,'' she answered.

That was it? Yes. I was stumped. I concluded that we

obviously viewed our friendship differently.

Unspecified, anything can be anything.

My friend could have been in an accident, she could have had

car trouble, one of her kids could have taken sick, etc. etc.

or maybe she just didn't care. 

When we experience something upsetting, I believe it is important

to use precise language when we define for ourselves what it was

about what happened that we found upsetting. 

''It was the way he/she said it, it was the words he/she used,

it was the tone of voice, the body language, the place, the time, etc. etc.''

What seems to be the problem, Mrs. Jones? asks the doctor.

It's my husband doctor, he keeps telling me that he is hurting

everywhere and all the time and that nobody seems

to be able to help him. 

I see, says the doctor, has he mentioned any particular area that

hurts more than any another?

That's the thing, doctor, that drives me crazy. He is allergic to the 

body-lotion that he uses everyday! I keep telling him

to stop using it, but he refuses to do so because he

paid a lot of money for it.

 What am I to do doctor, when he doesn't listen to me??!!

Hmmm, if you emptied the expensive lotion and

replaced it with another lotion your husband is not

allergic to, do you think he would notice, Mrs. Jones?

It's definitely worth a try, doctor, Mrs. Jones answers

with a smile.

''Aiming at everything there's a great possibility that you'll hit nothing.''

(Citizen Z)

about the image: acrylic on canvas

Forgiveness....feels better than resentment

-Grand-father?

-Yes?

-Can I ask you a question?

-Of course you can, son.

-What does forgiveness mean?

-That's a very grown-up question, Jimmy.

Where did you hear that word?

-At school today. Jeremy was mean to Abby, he

pushed her so hard that she fell and hurt herself.

Miss Mitchell got angry with Jeremy and told

him that he had to apologize to Abby for having

been so mean to to her. But Jeremy didn't want to

do that, he said that Abby had pushed him yesterday

and that if he had to apologize then Abby should have to do 

so too. 

-What do you think Jimmy, should they both apologize to each other?

-I don't know, because Jeremy said that Abby pushed him first so she

should apologize to him first. He said that if she hadn't pushed him he 

wouldn't have pushed her.

Forgiveness.

Such a tricky thing to get one's head around sometimes.

If one says: ''I forgive you'' is that

the same as saying ''what happened is okay''?

Those in the know suggest that forgiveness is a

conscious and deliberate choice we make regardless

of whether in our view we consider him/her/them to deserve it.

(Lily Tomlin: ''Forgiveness is giving up the hope of a better

past.'')

Forgiveness, so some say, is not about letting him/her/them

get away with treating us unfairly, rather, it is about

us letting go of stultifying emotions and thoughts that prevent us

from freeing ourselves from pain and suffering experienced

in the past.

Though it may perhaps seem a long shot, I believe that

often we feel hurt when our expectation of what we consider

to be a fair and civil behaviour is not met. 

We expect people, even people we don't know, to adhere to certain

behaviour patterns... i.e. ''expectation bias''.

''Expectation bias occurs when an individual's expectations

about an outcome influence perceptions of one's own

or other's behaviour.''

When, or if, people or governmental institutions fail to live up

to our expectations, we may experience that as a form of

betrayal. And betrayal can hurt a lot because it may feel as

if our trust has been violated, we have not been valued, and

actions have been taken against us. Some ex:

''How am I supposed to ever trust you again when you shamed me

in front of everyone?''

''How am I supposed to trust you after you lied to me?''

''How am I supposed to trust the police after they beat my

friend half to death?''

Forgiveness does not come easy when we feel we have

been betrayed, belittled, shamed, lied to, etc. etc.

Often, in my view, to do so (forgive) would feel as if we were to condone

 something that we probably deem as an un-acceptable behaviour.

However, those in the know say that if we want to get

on with our lives, we need to let go of past transgressions.

Those inflicted on us or those we may have inflicted on others.

Forgiveness is a conscious decision we may need to make

since most of us at some time or another most probably

will fail to live up to someone else's expectations of us.

Or to paraphrase the Dalai Lama: 

''Forgive, it will make you feel better.''

''When you hold resentment toward another, you are

bound to that person or condition by an emotional

link that is stronger than steel.

Forgiveness is the only way to dissolve that

link and be free.''

(Catherine Ponder)

about the image: graphite on paper

Assertive= a balance of self-assuredness and gentleness...not aggression

While my sister was making us some lunch, I decided to

enjoy the view from her balcony.

Majestic and awe inspiring, the waves from the Pacific Ocean

licked the golden beach at Burleigh Heads.

I closed my eyes briefly and inhaled the smell of

 salty moist air, pine trees, coconut sunscreen and

freshly cut grass.

Some of us may view Beethoven's Fifth Symphony as

one of the most glorious of music compositions, but for me,

that honour goes to the sound of a rolling ocean.

 Enjoying the sound of the ocean, another sound,

gentle at first but growing in volume, began to demand my attention.

I opened my eyes to look for the source of the sound

and realized that it came from a multitude of Fairy Wrens

enjoying the freshly cut grass on the ground in front

of the Hotel entrance.

I know very little about birds, but I do love Fairy Wrens.

I quickly ran down the three flights of stairs to get a closer look.

Like a busy airport, the little birds landed and took off while

singing their song. Amazing. Beautiful.

As I was admiring the birds, I saw a feather ''dancing'' in the wind.

I decided to try and catch it as it was falling.

Alas, the wind was strong and the feather very light.

Every time I tried to catch it it seemed as

if the motion caused the feather to rise somehow, so in

the end, I just held out my hands and waited for the feather

to just gently land in the palm of my hands.

Lately I have been pondering gentleness.

There are numerous books on how to be more

assertive, firm, stand your ground, get your voice heard,

take charge, etc. etc. but...

what I have not come across so far, is how to be assertive

 in a gentle way. 

One definition of being assertive is: ''someone who states their needs

and opinions clearly''  another is: ''being confidently aggressive

and self-assured''. 

For some of us, being able to state our needs and opinions can

be experienced as quite confrontational as well as emotionally

challenging. 

Howso, you may ask?

Because it's not just about what we say, but also very much about how we say it.

And how, often reflects how strongly we feel about what we are

trying to say. In my opinion (and experience), it seems

assertiveness can quite easily morph into aggression by

a mere incremental increase in vocal volume.

Oh, yeah? Oh, Yeah?? OH, YEAH??!!

Often with an increase of vocal volume comes an increase

of emotional charge and what may have begun as a conversation

becomes a heated discussion, or perhaps even an argument.

Some say that an assertive person has a fundamental humility and

gentleness that runs through how they interact with others.

They are able to assert their opinions and needs without

being loud, pushy or aggressive.

Instead of relying on volume to get their views across, they rely

on a clear and precise language void of insults and hurtful words.

It is unfortunate, but it seems to me that somehow words

such as gentleness, tenderness, kindness and softness

are often getting a bad ''rap''.

I may be wrong, but I believe that there is an underlying attitude

in many of today's societies that gentleness, tenderness, 

kindness and softness are often equated with weakness.

Should we aspire to be successful and ''winning'' people,

the underlying thought seem to be that

we can leave no room for neither of those qualities.

But what if that thought is wrong?

What if gentleness, tenderness, kindness and softness are 

fundamental characteristics of true strength?

What if those characteristics are paramount for us to

be successful and winning people?

As someone once said to me: ''It takes a strong person to

to acknowledge his/her weaknesses.''

''Every weakness contains within itself strength.''

(Shusaku Endo)

about the images: at the top, ink on paper,

the fairy wren, ink and acrylic on paper

Home is not a building. Home is the heart......

 Determined not show her pain, she decided to leave.

She didn't care that it was late, she didn't care that she had 

nowhere to go, she just couldn't take his drunken ravings

any more. 

He may be a fantastic piano player, but he is a lousy and

mean drunk, she thought to herself.

As she was gathering her coat and scarf she could her him

opening another wine bottle.

Don't say a word, just leave, she told herself as she put on

her coat and scarf. Hurriedly she ran down the three flights of stairs to

the ground floor. 

When she opened the door to the street she was met by a chilling

wind and a heavy rain. Great. She could feel her resolve to ''overcome''

beginning to wean. Tears were not far away either.  Get a grip, she

told herself, but somehow she seemed unable to move.

Pressing her back in to the closed door behind her, she was able to avoid

some of the rain, but not all.  But then, what did it matter?  Rain or tears, it

made no difference, the result was the same. Her face was getting wet.

Actually, she thought, if feels quite good to not have to hide my tears.

She closed her eyes. Then, as if out of nowhere, she suddenly heard a voice.

Excuse me, but are you alright?

She opened her eyes and standing before her was a cab driver.

Are you alright?, he asked again.

Kind, he seems kind, she thought. I could do with a little

kindness, but should I really tell a stranger that I feel broken,

sad, lost and lonely? Does he really want to know if I'm

alright or is he just a creep?

She looks him up and down, ....probably middle-aged, in cab-uniform, tidy,

kind eyes, and he had a genuine look about him. 

No, I'm not alright, to tell you the truth, she finally answered.

As if he had heard her thoughts he answered:

In case you wondering whether I am creep or some sort

of shady person, I want to tell you why I am standing here asking

you if you are alright. I have daughter back in Bulgaria who

is about your age. I worry about her a lot. If she was standing alone

late at night in rain crying, I would want somebody to be kind to her, 

so that's why I want to be kind to you.

Is that okay answer? 

She decided it was. 

Please, we step inside to talk, yes?

Together they stepped in to the foyer of her apartment building and

sat down on the steps leading to the elevator.

My name is Yurik, what is yours?

Billie, after Billie Holiday.

Billie, what is wrong? 

His voice sounded so compassionate and genuine, that before she knew it,

she unraveled. 

She told him of her boyfriend's drinking problem, of how he would

disappear for days, how he would mentally torment her, belittle her,

and occasionally hit her. She told him of her battle with loneliness,

of her dwindling self-confidence and self-esteem. She told him of her fear of

becoming homeless if she left her boyfriend as it was her boyfriend's

apartment she was living in.

Billie, why you not go back home? asked Yurik when she finally stopped

talking.

I no longer have a home Yurik, my family emigrated overseas a few years ago.

For what seemed to her as ages, Yurik didn't respond.

She looked at Yurik and wondered what he was thinking.

Had her last words perhaps upset him since he also had emigrated?

She decided not to speak but to wait for his answer.

Minutes passed and then finally he spoke.

You must make your own home Billie. Home is not building, home

is heart. 

You mean, my home is in my heart, Yurik?

Yes, Billie. When I first came to this country, I too was feeling sad 

and lonely. I missed my home and my family so much my heart 

always aching. I wanted to go back, but politics in Bulgaria

crazy and prevent me from going home. Then one day Yurik

have a good thought. Home is not building, home is heart.

Family exist in heart, heart always with me, so home always

with me. You see, Billie?

She did. 

Her home was not with Jan, neither was her heart.

No matter how scary it seemed, she needed to leave

him. Resolve restored, tears dried, she was ready

to begin the journey of creating a new life for herself.

Amazing what a little kindness and a few well chosen words

 can do, she thought.

You feeling better now Billie?

Yes, Yurik. 

Good. I must go now sorry. I start driving again tomorrow

very early. You will be okay for me to go now, yes?

Yes, Yurik. Thank you so much for being so kind to me.

No problem, Billie.

Yurik stood up, put on his peaked cap and straightened his 

uniform. Bye for now Billie, stay strong, he said and then disappeared 

behind the slowly closing apartment building door.

Billie looked at her watch. 2:35 am.

My home is in my heart, she said to herself as she started to 

walk up the stairs. Each step a step closer to the end one of one life

and the beginning of another.

''The ache for home lives in all of us.

The safe place where we can go as we are

without being questioned.''

(Maya Angelou)

about the image: a photo with some editing.

While zooming in on a still life photo I had shot, I discovered

a face in the reflection in the back ground.

A Halloween story.....or is the truth out there?

 

He ran as fast as he could.

Damn! The bus driver didn't see him.

Great! Now he was going to have to walk all the

way home.

Buster sat down on the well worn old wooden bench

at the bus stop and fumed. 

Right, I'm going to have to hitch a ride then.

Trouble was, that there usually weren't many folks

around in his little town after 10pm. Most people

had farms to look after and went to bed early in the evenings.

Well, you never know. Buster slung his bag over his shoulder,

lit a cigarette, stood up, and then stuck his thumb out.

Half an hour later, he sat down on the bench again.

Not a single car had passed in either direction.

Walking it is then.

It could be worse, it could be raining, he thought as he

stood up and started the long walk home.

He had just passed the last town house when he suddenly

saw some strange red lights in the sky.

That's odd, he thought.

What kind of air crafts fly like that?

It couldn't be helicopters, cause they can't fly upside down.

It couldn't be any kind of normal plane cause they fly

straight and not in tight circles.

Besides, the lights indicated that whatever those things were,

they seemed to be able to fly backwards as well as forwards.

And, how come they didn't make a sound?

Perhaps the air force was testing some new kind of

aircrafts?

With his eyes firmly fixed on the dancing red lights in the sky

Buster's mind was filled with questions.

UFO's? Aliens? Nah, there's no such things.

But even so, the lights had him spooked.

He quickened his step.

As suddenly as the lights had appeared, they suddenly disbursed

in to different directions and just vanished.

All, except for one who seemed to just drop to the ground.

Huh? What just happened? Buster's heart was racing.

Further up the road he thought he

could see some flames and smoke rising against the night sky.

Geez!! Now what!!@#??? It's crashed?? What if someone

was onboard it? What if that someone was injured?

Buster started to run toward the

flames and smoke whilst telling himself, 'you shouldn't

be doing this, this isn't going to end well'.

As he got closer to where he thought the 'thing' had crashed,

he realised it had not crashed on the road but in the wheat field

that ran alongside the road.

Some hundred meters or so on the right hand side of the road,

Buster could see a sliver of dark gray smoke slithering its way

upwards.

Without really thinking about any consequences, he ran

towards the smoke. 

What the...????

Hey, Buster, what are you doing here?, asked Jim Robinson, the owner

of the wheat field.

Where's the thing? Buster asked dumbfoundedly.

What thing? answered Jim Robinson.

The red light thing that just crashed here?

What are you talking about, Buster? It's just me here

trying to smoke out the rabbits eating my crop.

But I saw it go down, Mr. Robinson!!!!

You must have imagined it Buster, said Mr. Robinson and then

as to prove his point he held up a rabbit.

Mr. Robinson, I'm telling you, I saw some kind of flying craft

crash down here in your field.

You youngsters, so full of imagination....what are you doing

out at this time of the night anyway Buster?

I missed the last bus, Mr. Robinson.

Well, son, you better hurry on home now. Your folks will

be worried, said Mr. Robinson as he turned his back to Buster and 

started to walk out of the wheat field.

In a minute, Mr. Robinson, I just want to check something out first.

Buster looked at the holes in the ground.

They did look like rabbit burrows.

To get a closer look, he hunched down on all fours.

That's when he saw it.

A faint red light.

What????

Buster quickly scrambled to his feet and stepped back from the

holes. The red light intensified and the holes grew bigger and bigger

until they became one big hole.

Buster felt terrified but couldn't move.

He felt as if he was watching the ground giving birth, but to what???

Holding his breath and feeling absolutely paralyzed with fear, Buster watched as

the ground gave birth to a red glowing octagon shaped flying craft.

Out it came, and then.........

soundlessly it soared higher and higher, constantly twisting, looping,

rising, dipping as if gravity did not exist.

And then suddenly, it just vanished.

As soon as it had vanished, Buster started to run and he didn't stop 

until he closed his bedroom door behind him.

He jumped into bed fully clothed, pulled the covers,

and fell asleep instantly.

Until......

suddenly a bright red light filled his room

and woke him up.

A face like no other face, barely four feet from

his own, stared him straight in the eyes and

with the eeriest of voices said: ''I don't exist.''

Happy Halloween

(if you celebrate it)

about the image: a seriously edited photo I shot of a friend of mine

Waiting. A waste of time or a time to think?

Waiting.

Whether we like it or not, waiting is something

we all have to endure at some time or another.

It intrigues me how it seems to be easier to

wait for something when we are given an estimated 

waiting time.

''Your table will be ready in ten minutes, the doctor/

dentist/counselor/solicitor/etc. etc. will be with you

shortly.''

Shortly? How long is a ''shortly''?

So, here's the thing with language, any language.

Language, in my view, is a system of symbols which

we use to express meaning. Meaning is not in the language

itself, but in the meaning we ascribe to the words we use.

It may seem as if meaning is in the word itself, but

is it really?

''Shortly'' for one person for instance may mean 15 minutes,

for another person it may mean two minutes.

As a ''frequent flyer'' at hospitals and medical clinics, I 

have learnt that ''the doctor will be right with you'' is

seemingly a very malleable concept.

 (It can actually mean anything from 30 minutes to seven hours

in my experience.)

  In my view, the word waiting is not ''time'' specific, neither is it ''experience''

specific. 

Depending on what we are waiting for, it seems we can experience time 

 as dragging, as speeding, or even as standing still.

''And the winner of the Best Overall Composition is.. ''

time stopped as I waited for the announcement.

''My name is Doctor Smith and I am a surgeon at The General

Hospital. Your son has had an accident and we need to 

operate on him immediately. Do you consent?''

Driving as fast as I could to the hospital, I felt as if time was dragging.

''How long did it take you to paint that painting?''

''I have no idea. Time seems to fly when I paint.''

''Time flies when you're having fun,

time drags when you're in pain,

time stops when you're really, really scared.''

(Citizen Z)

Waiting, as far as I can ascertain, always include the

passing of time. This, for some of us, can perhaps be experienced as

''wasting time''.

Wasting time as in: ''time elapsing in an unproductive manner.''

Well, these days we have a cure for any time wasting: the smart phone,

 the laptop, the i-pad, or any tech-device that can be used to fill in

(being productive in some way) time while waiting.

According to research done by Microsoft, our attention span has

dropped 25% in just a few years.

Not saying this is the case, but perhaps that it may have made ''waiting''

seem more of a waste of time than an opportunity for

a time of reflection and mindfulness.

Have you ever said: "I haven't even had the time think

about it?''

If you have, then perhaps those un-expected or even expected moments

of waiting can be used for thinking?

(According to those in the know, we make ''better'' decisions when 

we have thought things through.)According to MentalHelp.net:

''One of the most frustrating of experiences is having to

wait.''

They also point out that becoming enraged will not speed up

the waiting time, all it does is raise our blood pressure and

put undue pressure on our hearts.

In a few days I will have to deal with some serious waiting

myself while my son undergoes an operation on his abdomen.

But as a frequent flyer at hospitals, I come prepared with

books, sketchpads, and Oh yeah, a smart phone.

''What we are waiting for is not as important as what

happens to us while we are waiting. Trust the process.''

(Mandy Hale)