On the importance of beauty.............

''Beauty awakens the soul to act.'' (Dante Alighieri)

Some say that ''beauty is a key part of how we understand and

interact with the world around us''.

Having the ability to appreciate beauty,

 some even view as a basic human need.

However, when it comes to defining exactly what makes something

beautiful, well, opinions often differ.

This, in my view, is because the perception of beauty is 

 a subjective experience.

Some research suggests that our ability of being able to appreciate

beauty rest with our ''stored'' (memories/thoughts) experiences of beauty,

plus our emotional state of mind at the time of the encounter.

No matter how glorious a sunrise may sparkle before us,

if we are feeling depressed or bilious while watching it, I

doubt that we would be able to truly appreciate it.

As far as I can ascertain, in order for us to be able to appreciate

beauty we need to be emotionally available and open in order

to do so.

Allowing beauty to ''awaken our souls'' we may 

find ourselves surprised at our emotional response.

''The sunrise was so beautiful it brought tears to my eyes.''

''Listening to the music made me feel so happy that I

had to get up and dance.''

''Touching the dolphin's beautiful body made me feel sad.'' 

Beautiful things can evoke a number of different emotions

in us such as: awe, wonder, admiration, fascination, 

inspiration, etc. etc. as well as joy and sadness.

Even perhaps at times, ..... a sense of timelessness.

What may make someone hold their breath at the sight of a rare

flower, bird, painting, building, seascape, landscape, etc.

etc.  may leave someone else indifferent.

Beauty, though mostly subjective, is often influenced by 

culture, tradition, environment, media and upbringing.

Something that may at our first encounter seem uninteresting and

 ordinary may change as we learn and come to understand more 

of/about that something.

When I first arrived in Australia I found it very hard to 

appreciate and see the beauty of the Australian landscape.

To me it was just brown, scraggly and deadly.(literally!)

(Mind you, I arrived here in the midst of bush fires and

drought.)

However, after a number of walks in the rainforest, walks on the 

beach with its crystal blue waters and white soft sand, I

started to change my opinion.

As time passed I discovered more and more beauty.

Unbelievably colourful and beautiful birds, butterflies,

fishes, trees, etc. etc. and yes, even insects.

(This is a water colour/ink painting of an Australian Fairy wren

I made.)

In my eyes, even an old and rusty chain can be a thing of beauty.

Although we perceive almost 80% of our impressions by sight,

we do also use our sense of smell, taste, touch, and what we hear

 when we determine if something is beautiful to us or not.

''That perfume smells beautiful, last night I had a beautiful 

tasting curry, the touch of the wool was beautiful, 

the opera singer had a beautiful voice, etc. etc.''

 What has been discovered is that when we experience beauty,

we get a dopamine boost.

In short, beauty makes us feel good.

''Everything has beauty but not everyone sees it,'' so says

Confucius.

Perhaps one could also say: ''There is beauty everywhere and in

everything but not everyone takes the time to notice it.''

Beauty, it seems to me, is not something one scrolls through,

nay, it needs our attention or else we may fail to notice and

appreciate it.

about the image: Acrylic on canvas

My attempt at painting a beautiful woman

in a Traditional Japanese inspired style.

Dare to be different

 Suddenly Miles Davis, an African-American Jazz musician,

arguably one of the greatest jazz composer/trumpeter of all

times, changed his music and appearance drastically.

Gone were the Armani suits and his cool, ''noir'' demeanor

and tunes.

Replaced by tight flared pants, colourful shirts, 

outrageous shades (sunglasses) and a new kind of

music that defied all attempts at classification.

Some of Miles's followers were outraged and thought that 

he had ''lost it'', others, predominately young people,

loved his new ''psychedelic/rock/jazz/free-form'' music.

After all, during the late sixties and early seventies there was

a lot of experimentation going on through most of the ''arts''.

In 1968 Miles met Betty Gray Mabry.

 Miles and Betty got married and Betty became Miles Davis's

wife, Betty Davis.

Some describe Betty Davis as a ''wildly flamboyant funk diva with

few equals with the gritty emotional realism of Tina Turner and

the futurist fashion sense of David Bowie, and the trend-

setting flair of Miles Davis.''

The marrige didn't last and in 1969 Miles and Betty divorced.

Betty released her last recording in 1975, ''Nasty Gal'', but like her

two albums before Nasty Gal, it had little commercial

success. 

Betty was mostly viewed as too controversial, too raunchy, 

using lyrics which were too sexually explicit, and with a sexually

aggressive stage persona.

In 1980 her father died and Betty went home to live with her mother.

Dealing with the loss of her father and a blinkered and biased 

music industry took its toll on Betty.

She sub combed to ''the darkness'' and was admitted into

a mental health institution. 

She decided to disappear.

But, her music is still around. I know, because

I have all her albums......

Being different, in my view, always comes with a cost.

Although it may be easy to think of the 60's and the 70's as

wild, experimental, free love and all that....it was also

very biased, tumultuous, patronizing, and a man's, man's world.

I know, cos' I was there.

As a female musician you were one of two B's: 

''Babe'' if you were willing to hop in the sack with any of

the male musicians, or ''Bitch'' if you were not

willing to do so.

At no point were you ever a third B, as in : a human Being.

Betty Davis was a strong, beautiful, talented and opinionated African

American woman.

She followed her own inner voice, she wrote lyrics that reflected 

her experiences, she performed on stage according to her lyrics,

but according to some of her friends, off stage, she was a quiet, 

sensitive, and deep person. 

In my experience as a female musician/song writer/composer/

bandleader, in order to be taken seriously by my fellow musicians

I have had to constantly prove not only that I am

as ''good'' as them, I have had to be better.

''She looks alright, but can she play?''

''You wanna play with the big boy's, you can carry your

own gear.''

''You wrote that tune? Who helped you?'' etc. etc. etc.

(If I turned down the advances made by one of my fellow

musicians the result would often mean a barrage of snide remarks,

crude ''jokes'', and different pieces of equipment

going missing.)

As things are today, it is possible to by-pass the need for a

record contract in order to expose one's talents as an artist to the world.

All one needs is a computer(i-Thingy) and an internet connection.

Well, not all, but there is definitely no need for any

''middle-men'' or even bias-challenged executives.

For artists who perhaps are a bit ''different'' to the mainstream,

who may have had many ''doors'' closed in their faces, I believe

that the fact that it is possible to share your art with others all

over the globe regardless, is fabulous.

Betty Davis fought for her unique voice to be heard, 

but, in the end, there were just too many barriers for her

 to break through.

But, before she called it quits, luckily for us, there are still

a number of albums and some footage available for us to enjoy.

''I needed to fit in or else no contract.

I learned that stars starve in silence."

(Betty Davis, Funk Diva and Performer extraordinaire.)

''Sometimes being different feels a lot like being alone.

But with that being said, being true to that and being

true to my standards and my way of doing things

in my art and music, everything that has made

me feel different.....in the end,

it has made me the happiest.''

(Lindsey Stirling)

about the image: graphite on paper

Whether we are holding a ''stick'' in our hand or the latest iPhone, the mind and body attached to the hand still has the same needs.

These are turbulent times.

Uncertain times, 

bewildering times,

unpredictable times.

Well, at least so it seems to me.

Us humans, we don't much like uncertainty hence

we have created something we call science.

And science, is a ''systematic enterprise that builds and

organizes knowledge in the form of testable explanations

and predictions of the universe''.

With the help of science we have been able to transform many

mysteries and uncertainties into firm and trustworthy knowledge

which in turn has assisted us in being able to make predictions

about what may transpire in the future.

Add to this technology.

Technology, in my view is basically the application of science.

Together technology and science continuously diminish the

''unknown'' and the ''uncertain'' and redefines the impossible

to the possible.

Having read this you may ask: ''So why are you saying: these are

uncertain, bewildering, and unpredictable times?''

 Mankind has achieved many scientific/technological/medical/etc.

 advancements. The uncertain, bewildering, and unpredictable 

I refer to is the emotional and mental state of mind of the

''I'', the me, the you, when we are by ourselves.

However, be that as it may, we have figured out

how to use a printer to make a new heart, how to make machines

talk to us, how to use electricity to run our cars, how to make it possible

to talk on a phone to anybody anywhere at any time, we can walk on

the moon, we can take pictures of a Black Hole, etc. etc. etc.

And yet, according to research....we are more anxious, more depressed, 

more isolated, more addicted, more lost, more confused, and more lonely than

ever.

Which makes me wonder: In our pursuit of ''progress'',

pragmatism, materialism and consumerism,

are we neglecting to nurture the ''finer'' aspects of our species?

As human beings, are we advancing?

 Have become better at kindness, compassion, forgiveness, honesty, 

caring, loyalty, understanding, tolerance, self-reflection, generosity, 

 solidarity, acceptance, etc. etc.?

Are we getting better at listening and being understanding of others

perspectives and opinions?

Are we getting better at being open-minded and tolerant of

others from countries and cultures different to ours?

Are we becoming less judgmental and more sympathetic to

others looking and or behaving differently to us?

Having said all this I also feel that I need to say that I acknowledge

that there are some among us who are tirelessly reminding us

that we need to rise above our baser instincts.

How well we connect with others is paramount to our survival.

Our brains and nervous systems need the attentiveness

and attunement(harmony) with others as much as we need

food and water. We also need it as it assists with our development

and emotional self-regulation. (According to attachment theory,

social baseline theory and neuroscience.)

In short, we need others so we need to be able to get along with

them.

To get along with others we need to be genuine, compassionate,

honest, open-minded, good listeners, trustworthy, supportive

and .... available.

To do this, we need words.

In my view, with our words we create and define our worlds.

Having an understanding of the power and impact that words have

gives us the opportunity to choose the words we use.

A few words of kindness can potentially:

make a person who feels invisible feel visible,

a person who feels insignificant feel significant,

a person who feels alienated feel connected,

a person who feels lonely feel included.

It can be easy to become seduced by mankind's many

scientific and technological achievements as

they are many and amazing.

But, whether we are holding a ''stick'' in our hand or

the latest iPhone, the mind and body attached to the hand

still has the same needs.

The need for a safe space, for food and water, loving

relationships and connections with others, recognition

and esteem, and the freedom to pursue his/her ''dreams''/talents.

Perhaps time has come for mankind to put down some of our

glitzy ''toys'' for a moment and instead spend more quality time on

how we can become more emotionally evolved human beings.

''The greatness of humanity is not in being a human, 

but in being humane.''

(Mahatma Gandhi)

about the image: pastel, ink on canvas  My feeble attempt

at illustrating thoughts/words and how at times they

seem to appear as a skyfall of colours in my mind

For some why's there are no answers..........

Ronnie.

My best friend and older brother until he died not long

before turning 15.

As a 12 year old I had no understanding of how to deal

with the very complex and sorrowful emotions that

comes with losing someone you love.

I had no words. I didn't know any words. 

Sad? not deep enough. Unhappy? too light. Upset? 

Hurt? Angry? Heartbroken? I kept trying different words

but none of them seemed adequate. There was one word

however which kept hounding me day and night: WHY???

My brother was the kindest, loveliest, person I knew, so why

did he die?

Unable to verbalize my internal turmoil I sought consolation

in music. I pounded the keys on the piano, I blew the trumpet,

strummed the guitar, listened to whatever sad classical music

I could lay my hands on. I spent hours wailing along with

sorrowful blues and jazz singers and started to compose my

own pieces of music on the piano. 

Music, I discovered, is a language that says everything without

the need of a single word.

Music has helped me work my way through the loss of

my father and many, many, many friends.

However, though I have experienced a lot of heartache and

a plethora of difficult experiences, nothing so far compares

to what my son and I are going through right now.

My son is suffering with an incurable disease called

 Schwannamotosis, plus bi-polar disorder, plus asthma and TMJ.

None of these ailments are curable, only manageable.

Schwannamotosis: a nasty genetically driven illness causing tumors

(mostly benign) to grow on nerve endings anywhere it chooses to.

In my son's case, most of his tumors are situated in the worst possible

place: the brain and the brainstem.

Long story short: after having being pushed about by doctors,

hospitals, etc. etc. ala ''pass the parcel'' for almost 10 years, 

the tumors have now reached critical mass and my son's life 

is hanging in the balance. 

(Watching my mother go through losing her son I concluded

that losing a child is probably the very most painful

experience a human being may have to endure.)

Due to procrastination and unwillingness by the health system

to actually deal with my son's situation, my son is now

suffering with so much pain that he can hardly walk, one

of the tumors is pushing out his left eyeball, his hearing

is worsening, he can't see properly, etc. etc. etc.

and so sub sequentially, he is super depressed.

As to not bore you with too many details describing the hell we

 are going through right now, let me just say that

 we are running short on hope and the old ''WHY!@#%$!??''

 that bothered me so much as a twelve year old.....

is back.

Once again I am searching for words. 

Words that do not seem patronizing or glib, words that

may strengthen, encourage, and comfort my child as he deals

with a disease that is truly terrifying.

Though I don't know what to say to my son, I do know

what NOT to say:

Anything the trivializes, simplifies, minimizes or underestimates

what he is feeling going through this very difficult experience.

When someone is hurting,

sometimes...

 the most helpful thing

to do...

 may be.....

to pretend to be a dog.

Just being there,

just not saying anything.

about the image: the only photo I have of my brother

edited in photoshop.

There's no such thing as tough love...only Unbreakable Love

 -Mum?

-Yes?

-You've got to come and pick me up. Emma's ex is threatening

to come and beat me up. Please hurry!

I look at the clock. 3:47 am.

My heart is almost beating its way out of my chest.

The head is spinning, my knees buckling, and I feel as if

I'm going to pass out.

I run to the toilet and throw up.

I gotta go, I gotta go, I gotto save my son, I tell myself

as I fumble about trying to find some clothes to put on.

My legs are so weak I can barely manage to get my jeans on.

I throw on a hoodie, some shoes and head downstairs.

I feel sick again but I tell myself to get a grip.  I gulp

a glass of water, grab the car keys and hop in my car.

Phew!! It starts. The townhouse complex is silent and dark

as I pass through the front gate and head for the motorway.

I'm speeding but the drive to my son's place is over an hour

away and I am fearing for my boy's life.

I'll risk a ticket.

The motorway is virtually empty except for the odd truck

here and there. I feel like I am sitting in a space capsule

hurtling through the dark on a fearful and dangerous

rescue mission.

Please let me get there in time, I keep repeating to myself

over and over as kilometer after kilometer fly by.

I am still hyperventilating, my heart is still racing,

but as I am getting closer and closer I can feel my

mind starting to organize itself into combat mode.

You can do this, whatever it is, you can do this,

it tells me.

Finally, I see the city lights. 

My breathing has slowed down, my heart rate has

almost normalized and I feel ready for battle.

I pull up in front of my son's place and run up the stairs.

The front door is open. I walk in.

Son, I'm here, let's go, I call out.

My son emerges from the back of the house looking

disheveled, upset and reeking of booze.

He hands me some bags, a pillow, and tells me to

put them in the car. 

I throw the stuff in the back of the car and wait for

him to join me.

What seems like an eternity pass before he finally joins

me and we can head off.

Neither one of us says a word.

My mind is full of questions but I say nothing. I just

concentrate on driving. When we hit the motorway

ten minutes later I steal a glimpse of my son

and I realize that he has fallen asleep.

I let out a heavy sigh.

Safe. He is safe. He is with me.

Whatever happened can be dealt with tomorrow.

With my precious, precious, cargo now on board,

I focus all my attention on driving and calming my mind. 

*

*

The first time I had to do an emergency dash was when

my son had his first severe asthma attack at barely one year

old.

Since then I have done many, many, many......more.

And for many different reasons.

I count myself fortunate that we have this close emotional bond/

relationship my son and I. Knowing that he feels that I always have

his back no matter what is nice, but it can be a very steep and at

times quite heavy ''path'' to walk.

Some years ago somebody came up with the term

''Tough Love''. Many parents with ''difficult children''

were encouraged to practice it. (Me included)

 Considering it, I decided to do some

 research into what tough love meant.

''Tough love is the act of treating someone harshly/sternly

with the intent to help him/her in the long run.''

Hmm......harshly as in? Sternly as in...? Intent as in....according

to whom? Help as in...according to what definition thereof?

My conclusion on tough love is that ''tough'' boundaries,

as in having firm and fair boundaries can often be helpful

for good/healthy relationships.

''Difficult'' children or adults, are difficult for a reason.

Focusing on the reason behind a difficult behaviour

 rather than the behaviour itself I have found to prove to be

most helpful in the long run.

It can be easy to assume that some boundaries are obvious,

self-evident even, but in my experience they seldom are.

Boundaries need to be communicated clearly and precisely,

without blame or inferences.

Showing respect and consideration for different opinions,

perspectives and emotions.

(As years have gone by I have realized that I have not always

been clear with my son about some of my boundaries.

However, rectifying and clarifying them as they pop up is proving

to be very helpful.)

Tough love?

Why not? if with ''tough'' we mean unbreakable,

resilient, and indestructible.

My son

Since the birth of my son

there has not been one moment

when I have not been

conscious of him.

Not one moment when I have

not loved him.

Not one moment when I have

not been willing to slay villains

real or imaginary.

Not one moment when I have

not been ready to lift him up

when he's been down.

Not one moment when I have

not fought beside him,

with him or for him.

(Citizen Z)

about the image: graphite on cardboard

my son at 17 years old.

On Toxic positivity

 ''Toxic positivity'' is what my son answered when I asked him

to help me come up with a new topic to write about.

So, why not? 

Toxic positivity is a term coined by Theo Tucker.

As far as I can ascertain, Toxic positivity is overrating a happy, 

optimistic state of mind to the extent that authentic emotional

experiences are pushed aside, denied, invalidated or just

plain ignored.

''-I don't allow any negative feelings or thoughts to enter my

being'', I was once told by someone.(I forget who...)

-How do you do that exactly? was my kneejerk retort.

-I just block it all out by using one of my mantra's.

-Like what kind of mantra?

-Like, nothing can dim the light that shines from within.

-So, what if for example you were told that you only had three months

left to live....what would you do then?

-First, I wouldn't just accept the diagnoses, second, I know

that with a positive mindset I would overcome it, third, I

would only engage myself with positive people and

positive activities.

I have to admit that at first what my friend said sounded

pretty good but the more I thought about it, the more

precarious it seemed.

I mean, I love cheese, but I am pretty sure that even something

as innocuous as cheese can become an obsession, eventually

if overindulged even dangerous and potentially quite lethal.

The human experience; are not the mistakes, the trip-ups, the

bad times, the sorrows, the troubles, the losses, etc. etc.

just as much a part of the tapestry we call ''life'' as our

''positive'' experiences?

Is it even possible to truly experience joy without knowing

sorrow, certainty without knowing uncertainty, success without

knowing failure(oopsies), security without knowing insecurity,

love without having experienced being loved, and on it goes.

Is not one of the most mystifying and gloriously wonderful

aspects of human beings that in spite of all our

flaws we still manage at times to achieve incredible,

breathtaking, feats of compassion?

(As well as cruelty but lets focus on the positive :)

Unexpected things happens to all of us.

Things we have no control over.

Such as what other people do or say, such as a multitude

of different kinds of illnesses, such as accidents, etc. etc.

We may have control over how we deal with unexpected things,

 but we can not stop them from happening.

We can have a positive attitude to how we will deal

with difficult situations but a positive attitude can not

prevent them from taking place.

Hiding or denying what we are feeling often leads to

stress and anxiety which in turn takes a toll on our

emotional and physical well-being.

Brushing off uncomfortable emotions with one-liners

such as: ''just get on with it, it could be worse, or it is

what it is'' may feel like some kind of bravery,

but usually, it does little for helping us deal with

difficult thoughts and emotions.

Positivity can become toxic when ''negative'' emotions are 

viewed as inherently (permanent) ''bad'' and authentic

emotions are pushed aside.

(Perhaps one can say that toxic positivity is basically an

avoidance strategy used to push away and invalidate

''internal'' discomfort.)

I have always wondered who gets to decide which feelings

are deemed bad(negative) and which are good(positive...

I mean, does not that depend on what we do in response to

 our feelings?

(Feelings usually classified as negative are for example:

sadness, anger, loneliness, jealousy, etc.)

Some research shows that an overly rosy(positive) outlook can

foster complacency and a lack of compassion.

Other research suggest that allowing ourselves to experience

''negative'' emotions can help us to experience a sense of

meaning, personal growth and an enriched sense of ''self''.

Negative feelings, when accepted and understood can in my

view be understood as guides trying to draw our attention

to something we need to deal with.

Why am I angry, why am I sad, why am I jealous, why am

I frustrated etc. etc.

By asking ourselves why we are feeling the way we are,

we may be able to dissolve or at least understand those emotions 

rather than suppressing them.

Because what most research seem to agree on is that 

suppressing negative emotions and thoughts does not work in the

long run, they will surface in some form and at some

point or another.

A slow burning anger can not be suffocated with a 

blanket of positive affirmations, a raging anxiety can not

be calmed with a ''just fill your mind with positive thoughts'',

a searing sense of panic will not be mollified by ''don't be

so negative, just look at the bright side.''

What may help in my view and experience, is to ask

oneself: why am I feeling this way and what can I do right now

that may help in a life-affirming way?

Try to resist the temptation of tossing a bunch of positivity

platitudes on your very real feelings.

Although, having said that, I have to say that

I have found that when I feel very anxious

and worried, saying out loud to myself CALM, CALM,

CALM seems to help.

Like with most things, even really good things,

too much of a good thing can become a bad thing.

''Toxic positivity takes positive thinking to an overgeneralized

extreme. This attitude does not just stress the importance of

optimism, it minimizes and denies any trace of human

emotions that aren't strictly happy or positive.''

(verywellmind)

about the image: acrylic on canvas 

''Life is like a painting'', there's some light, there's some dark,

and then there's all that stuff in between.

On appreciating the ordinary...........

 Every now and then something unexpected happens and suddenly

.........an ordinary day turns into an extraordinary one.

Sometimes extraordinary of the good kind and sometimes....

of the bad kind.

Since I started this blog I have tried to write a new post every

Monday and most of the time(ordinarily)I have been able to

stick to that commitment.

However, last Monday an ordinary day turned into an

extraordinary day of the bad kind.

While trying to squeeze some water out of a mop into a

basin in my tiny laundry, some of the water ended up on the

floor. This made the floor exceedingly slippery and with arms and

legs flailing sent me crashing to the tiled floor smashing my

head into the basin and landing awkwardly on my left leg.

I decided to stay down for a minute and wait for my head

to stop spinning. But, I am an impatient fool, so I bum-shuffled 

myself into the kitchen only to realize that I didn't have a 

clue as to how I was going to be able to get on my feet.

So I kept bum-shuffling to the nearest chair and eventually

managed to get myself upright. Gingerly I tried to put

some weight on my left leg. Although it was hurting,

I decided that it was not hurting bad enough for me to stop

my weekly cleaning routine.

I proceeded with my daily chores as if nothing had happened.

But as the day went on, the knee on my left leg kept swelling,

 the pain kept increasing, and the smallest of movements

sent searing pain through my whole body so severe that

I could hardly breathe.

I needed to get to the hospital.

At 9pm I called for an ambulance. At 2:30 am one turned up.

Standing outside the front door, two very compassion fatigued paramedics

 told me to walk!!! to the ambulance. 

Flabbergasted and incredulously I screeched: ''I can't walk!!! That's why

I called for an ambulance!!! Can you PLEASE help me!!!''

Eventually they produced a stretcher and I was wheeled to the

ambulance.

On arrival at the hospital I was placed in a hard plastic chair with

wheels. No, not a wheelchair, that would have been awesome.

No, a very hard and uncomfortable upright chair with nowhere

to rest any part of your body except for your butt....

which in my case was very sore. 

They placed me in a corner in (the) Triage,

handed me a well-washed-well-worn cotton blanket and then

ignored me for almost four hours. 

Well, except for the times I was offered opiates.

Each time I said no thank you to the drugs there was

a look of consternation on the nurses faces.

Are you sure you don't want any?

-Yes, but I would really appreciate if I could be moved

into a more comfortable chair of some sort, please?

Sorry, there is none. We are very busy, you just have to wait.

Some patients have had to wait for over six hours.

Busy? The Triage was basically empty except for one person

(admin? nurse? I don't know.) checking out a website

called WhatsOn.

I decided to grab the next nurse that showed up and insist

on being given a time frame for how much longer I was 

going to have to wait.

-Nurse? Nurse?!! Please? I called out.

What seems to be the trabble? asked the nurse that

I managed to grab. (A petit nurse with curly auburn hair and 

a melodious Irish accent.)

-I'm sorry to be a pest but my leg is really killing me. 

Is there anywhere else that I can wait where I can put my

leg up somehow?

The pain's bathering yah? Do yah need some painkillers?

-Well, maybe a couple of Panadols could help, but

I have been in absolute agony for 12 hours now.

Are you sure there is no bed available, please?

We're reely bissy yah know, but I'll have a look for yah.

The nurse handed me two Panadol's and the vanished down 

the hospital warren.

I closed my eyes and tried to practice a bit of mindfulness.

Almost asleep, suddenly the Irish nurse appeared,

unlocked the wheels on the chair and started to

push me down the warren. (corridor)

This will make yah happy, she said and gently patted me on the 

shoulder.

It did. We stopped in front of a fresh, crisp sheet covered bed.

With the help of a male nurse I was lifted on to the bed and

finally I could let my sore leg rest.

Bliss. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.

A few minutes passed.

Then another nurse came by and turned out the bright light

above my head, gave me a cup of water and left.

Finally, the throbbing in my leg subsided a little.

Another few minutes passed.

Then in the space of 15 minutes I had been x-rayed, seen by

a doctor, had a splint put on the leg, handed a pair of crutches

and was hobbling out the door of the hospital.

Waiting for a taxi I enjoyed the bright sunshine, a gentle

breeze across my face and the knowledge that I was just a

few minutes away from a freshly brewed coffee.

Safely at home, sipping my coffee, it dawned on me

how quickly an ordinary day had turned into an extraordinary

one.

Having my leg in a splint meant that I could not drive,

(my son doesn't drive unfortunately) 

I could not take my son to the doctor, I could not do

any shopping, I had to crawl up the stairs to get to my bed,

and going to the toilet was a major event.

(Who knew just how hard it is to go to the toilet with

a leg in a splint....I certainly didn't.)

For an ordinary day to be ordinary, there are so many things

I think one takes for granted to just work.

A split second is all it may take to turn an ordinary life

into a totally different and unfamiliar life.

Personally,

I've come to appreciate how grateful I need to be for

every ordinary, un-eventful day that comes my way.

''The ordinary is not so ordinary when it comes down to it.

Ordinary just means that we have forgotten to

appreciate all the little things that we now take for granted.

The same little things that perhaps for some us have never

been ordinary but always extraordinary.''

(Citizen Z)

about the image: a snapshot on my camera of some ordinary grass

growing at the front of my place