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)

The problem with problems.........

I don't know about you, but I sometimes feel as if I've

been through a shredder.

Stuff happens, we deal with it and then try to move on.

Right? Yeah, well, not always in my view.

Sometimes stuff happens at such an alarming rate

that it can be difficult to find the time or space to ''re-group''.

You know, one of those weeks when it seems

as if anything that can go wrong, goes wrong.

You've just managed to sort out one problem

when the next one comes along and knocks you for six.

(A bit like the 70's Arcade game Whac-A-Mole methinks.)

Problems are pesky critters that insists on our attention.

Sometimes we may try to ignore them, we may try to

''whack'' them away, but in my experience, more often than 

not the most efficient way to get rid of them is to deal with them.

''Easier said than done'' you may say.

And I agree, sometimes we may face problems that

may overwhelm us, that zaps us of all our mental energy

and leaves us wanting to curl up in a fetal position.

But perhaps sometimes that may be just what we need

to do in order to gather strength?

I am all for positive thinking, affirmations and problem

solving, however, life has taught me that there are times when

retreating to a quiet and safe place and just be still for a moment

before tackling a problem can be more helpful.

A few years ago my father was very ill and we were all very

worried about him. Not wanting him to be alone, all of us

in the family took turns in being with him in the hospital.

One day, a very difficult day, when it was only he and

I in the hospital room, he asked me to put a pillow

over his face and suffocate him.

He didn't want to live any longer.

What does one say to that?

No, is what I said and then left the room.

On very wobbly legs I walked out of the hospital,

found a quiet corner and slumped to the ground.

I needed time to think, to find words, and to find the strength

to say them to my father.

As a parent of a son who struggles with an array of mental health 

and physical illnesses, there has been many times when

I have felt as if I have been through a ''shredder''.

Times when I've felt as if I was going to die from exhaustion,

from losing my mind, from anxiety, from fear, and or from 

a sense of hopelessness and inadequacy.

But as is obvious since I am writing this, each time I go through

the shredder, I put the pieces back together again.

(Of course not perfect.... going through a shredder leaves ''scars''.)

''It is in the stillness, 

that the greatest peace of mind

and wisdom can be found.''

These words somehow suddenly popped up in my mind

as I was sitting on the ground outside the hospital.

I took a few deep breaths and then walked back to

my father's room.

I had found the words and the strength I had been searching for.

And, now, three years later....every second Sunday I visit my

mum and dad in their beautiful home.

Problems, most seem to agree, is part of life.

Sometimes they may come all at once,

sometimes perhaps one at the time.

Some may need immediate attention,

some may need some thoughtful meditation.

''The tests we face on life's journey are not

to reveal our weaknesses but to help us

discover our inner strengths.

We can only know how strong we are

when we strive and thrive beyond

the challenges we face.''

(Kemi Sogunle)

about the image: Ink on paper, edited in Photoshop

 

Who are you George?

I am a man.

 I am a father,

    I am a husband,

 I am a brother.

I am a friend,

   I am a stranger.

I am a singer,

I am a talker.

I love my wife,

     I love my children.

   I love my parents,

   I love my siblings.

  I love my music,

I love my food.

 I love my home,

     I love a good brew.

There are times when I feel happy,

there are times when I feel sad,

there are times when I feel hopeful,

and times of deep despair.

There are times when I feel anxious,

there are times when I feel poised.

there are times when I feel troubled,

there are times I feel composed.

I am a being,

a human being.

 I am a spirit,

a living spirit.

I am a heart,

a beating heart.

I am a soul,

a teaching soul.

The I, that I know to be me,

is not skin that covers me.

The I, that I know to be me,

are my actions, my hopes,

my dreams, my beliefs,

and my feelings.

''The true colour of a person is not determined by skin,

but by the behaviour in it.''

(Giovanni de Sadeleer)

about the image: a photo I took of  ''Chicken George'', a musician

friend of mine

Feeling lonely sometimes? Don't worry, we all do.

 The door behind her closes with a soft thud.

She kicks of her uncomfortable shoes and head

straight for the fridge. Ah. She grabs her elixir, her best friend,

her counselor who always soothes and comforts her.

She pours the wine into a large glass, sits down 

on her couch, takes a sip, and then turns on the Laptop.

As if out of nowhere her eyes suddenly fill up

with tears. What's wrong with me? she asks herself.

Why am I crying? Which is a superfluous question.

She knows why she is crying. She is feeling lonely.

Feeling lonely at times is part of the human condition.

We are a species who seek meaningful social connections,

and having difficulties in making such connections can

perhaps for some of us be quite taxing and at times 

perhaps even devastating.

''Lonely people are lonely because they have poor

social skills.''

So some say, but is there perhaps not more to it?

How many social connections is the right amount?

See, here's the thing, I believe it is quite possible

to feel lonely when in a crowd, but also to feel

crowded when alone.

We are all different. Some of us may need a lot of

social connections and some of us may not.

Besides, what do we mean with social connections?

Let me suggest:

Social connections are the relationships we have

with others and they come in many varieties.

Especially since the advent of the Internet.

According to some, we are more connected today then

mankind has ever been....yet....somehow we are

also experiencing more feelings of isolation and

loneliness.

 During these turbulent times it seems that not

only the quantity of social connections we have

matters, but also the quality.

Which leads me to wonder: how important is 

it that our connections are actual as well as virtual?

How important for instance, is touch?

In the mid-1990's two scientists traveled to Romania to 

study sensory deprivation in children in understaffed

orphanages and discovered that touch-deprived children

had considerably lower cortisol and growth development

levels for their age groups.

Since then other studies on touch have been done that shows

how physical touch plays a primary role in our development

and physical and mental well-being.

Tiffany Field, head of the Touch Institute at the University

of Miami's Miller School of Medicine, made a

shocking discovery when she did a study at the 

arrivals at different airports:

 Nobody was touching each other.

Everyone was on their phone. (or i-Thingy)

No hugging, no embracing, not even handshakes.

Having said this, it seems as if perhaps this Covid-19 Pandemic

with quarantines, lock-downs, and social distancing may have

reminded some of us that we need eye-to-eye contact and touch 

as well as thru an interface.

We may have hundreds or even thousands of Twitter, Facebook, 

Instagram, etc. ''friends'', but when hard times hit us,

what would we prefer: 

a binary code/pixels on a screen or someone

sitting next to us?

If you find yourself at the bottom of a dark pit,

would you prefer someone to ''throw'' you a line

or throw you a rope?

Even though most of us feel lonely at times,

there still seems to be stigma attached to it.

''Don't tell anyone that you feel lonely, if you

do you are likely to be judged as a loser, as

unlikable, and as a weirdo.''

We do judge. We blame. We look down upon.

We rather throw solutions and ''good'' advice

than say: ''I feel lonely too sometimes.''

In my view, feeling lonely now and then does not

necessarily have to indicate lacking social skills,

it just means being a human.

''Loneliness is not lack of company,

Loneliness is lack of purpose.''

(Guillermo Maldonado)

about the image: water colour on paper/some Photoshop editing