Now is when life happens.

Time.

Such a peculiar something it is. Some think of time as a fundamental structure of the universe, unaffected by the goings on of mankind, a kind of dimension in which events takes place in sequence.

Others view time as an intellectual human construct, time is neither an event or a something, and is therefore not measurable. (Well, not by humans anyways) 

Although there may be many different ways to define what time is exactly, for most of us, time plays a huge part in how we live and organise our lives.

 Our experience of time often falls into one of three different terms: the past, the present, and the future. Often we slip and slide through the terms, occasionally even finding it hard to differentiate between the terms. Memories belong in the past, imagination in the future, and physical pain (for instance) belong in the present.

However, a painful memory from the past can trigger the imagination into envisaging further pain in the future, making the present a mixture of all three tenses.

Physically engaging in "time travel" at this point in time is not possible, but what about time travelling in the mind?

Could not a memory perhaps be viewed as travelling back in time? Could not visualization perhaps be viewed as time travelling into the future?  (There are many books on that particular kind of time travelling: "If you can visualize it, you can make it real.")

Old as I am, I have started to consider if perhaps not many of us find the past and/or the future easier to deal with than the present.

The thing with "now" as I see it, is that to truly be present in it, requires an incredible amount of attention, discipline and single-mindedness. It is so easy to slip into thinking ahead or thinking back without even being aware of doing so.

Thich Nhat Hanh, a Vietnamese Buddhist monk, challenges the reader in his book "Peace in every Breath" to focus all his/her attention on really tasting every bite of food when eating something, to really taste every sip of water, tea, etc. when drinking as a way of staying in the present. "Why not I thought, let's try it." Wow. Such a simple task, yet so incredibly revealing at the same time. This simple task made me realise just how often the mind wanders all over the place, so over and over I had to bring my attention back to the taste. This simple exercise lead me to ponder how I could apply it to other areas of my life, as in "wherever you are, be there". 

In many cultures, goal-setting is considered a valuable tool for personal achievement, and I get that, but perhaps it can also be an "obstacle", making it more difficult to live in and experience the present?

We walk and run on treadmills with headphones plugged in, we walk outdoors with headphones plugged in (guilty as charged), we ride exercise bikes with headphones plugged in, we ride buses, trains, planes, bikes, with headphones plugged in, we can even swim laps in a pool with water-tight headphones plugged in, and so on. We have goals to attain, so we focus on attaining our goals rather than on where we are, who or what is next to us, or what kind of nature/landscape/city-scape we are in.... having headphones on we can "isolate" ourselves from outer distractions and stay firmly focused on our goals.  

For many of us, the way we live our lives is pretty much organised/sorted/determined by "units of time": how many units of work we do in a day, how many units of sleep we need each day, how many units of chores we have to do in a day, how many units of exercise we have/need to do in a day, how many units we allow ourselves for eating each day, how many units we allow for inter action with friends and family each day, ....and so on. 

Most of my life I have lived a very goal-orientated, time-constricted and organised life, absolutely taking "time" for granted, until one day when I came to realise that I was not enjoying life. When asked what I did for "fun", I found myself stumped? Fun? I was perplexed. After weeks of pondering the question I concluded that I had no idea...so now I had a new goal: to find out what I considered as "fun".  I quickly came up with stuff that I used to consider to be "fun", but now no longer seemed fun at all. I decided that I needed to re-define the term "fun", so fun became: "enjoyable, no strings attached".

So, playing air-hockey was "fun" I discovered, so was jumping around the house to loud music when no-one was around, so was inventing different recipes (food), so was painting large paintings, so was browsing second hand book stores...etc. Interestingly, when I am engaged in doing these things, time no longer exists, all there is, is the pure experience of being in the moment. (Qualia = pure experience)

Time flies. Time drags. There's not enough time. There's too little time. There's too much time. Time heals all wounds. Time is a human construct. Time is "real". Time is a mindset. Time is measured in seconds, minutes, hours, weeks, months, years, etc. Time is either the past, the present, or the future. Time can be wasted, treasured, squandered, experienced.

Much like life: it can be wasted, treasured, squandered, and or experienced.

And like time, how much of it each of us are allotted is not for us to take for granted, neither do I believe that life is something for us to take for granted either.

Each new moment presents for us an opportunity to experience something if we but take the time to notice it.

"It's being here now that is important. There's no past and there's no future. Time is a very misleading thing. All there ever is, is now. We gain experience from the past, but we can't relive it; and we can hope for the future, but we don't know if there is one." (George Harrison) 

Look up. Look out. Look in. 

Touch. Taste. Smell.

And listen.

Are we living in an age of fear and suspicion? What happened to innocent until proven guilty?

Death.

Always the smell of death.

He pulls his son close to his chest as if to say to death: "Stay away! This is my son and you're not taking him as well!"

The ship's deck is packed with people. All afraid, all with the smell of death invading their senses, all with hearts and minds fragmented, tormented, and barely held together.

Brokenness, .....the cost of  having faced death close-up, too many times.

The wind is relentless, the chattering and squawking sound of the seagulls insistent, and the black, thick, suffocating, black smoke from the overworked ship engine... over powering.

Emil coughs, a dry, bone-chilling hacking cough.

Abraham bends down and puts his ear to Emil's chest and anxiously listens. 

It doesn't sound good. Abraham has been worried about Emil's cough for months, but ever since they boarded the clapped-out tub of a "ship", Emil's cough has steadily been getting worse.

"But," Abraham says to himself, "what choice did I have?"

Abraham and Emil are alone now.. During the last bombing attack of their little town, his wife, his two little girls, his mother and father, and his beloved dog "Razzo" had all been killed. The only reason that Abraham and Emil are still alive is that at the time of the bombing, they had both been at the medical center in another town waiting to see a doctor. By the time they arrived home everything, and all their loved ones, were gone. 

"Dad, when are we going to get there" Emil suddenly asks.

The sound of Emil's voice brings Abraham back to the present.

"Not too long, son, not too long now" Abraham answers.

Abraham pulls his son closer, gives the boy a tentative kiss on top of his head then whispers into his son's ear: "Shhhh, be still now son, shhh...."

Emil, safely nestled beneath his father's strong arms, is worried about his dad. He knows that his dad is trying to make everything seem okay, but Emil also knows that the ship they are on is not safe, the crew operating it is not safe, and the little bit of food they are given sporadically, for sure is not safe. Last time the ship's crew gave them something to eat, he and his father had been sick for days after.

Just thinking about it makes Emil feel queasy. Emil hates war. Ever since the stupid war begun, Emil has been scared. Scared of the loud noises, scared of the silences, scared that his family would be killed, scared that he would be killed, scared of the fires in the night, and scared of the morning light illuminating all the brokenness: the broken towns, the broken buildings, the broken homes, the broken people, the broken hearts, and the broken hopes.

Ever since the time when all that was left of their family was him and his father, Emil has watched the light of hope in his father's eyes slowly dissipate and almost disappear.

"I must be strong, I have to be strong for dad" Emil says to himself and then continues "he needs me".

Emil takes a deep breath, and although just eight years old, he knows a lot more about life and suffering than such a young child is supposed to know.

Suddenly: Look! Look over there! There are people coming to welcome us! We are safe!".

Three words.

Three words that brings hope.

OR?????

Who are the people coming to "welcome" them?

Picture it.

Who would you like the "welcomers" to be if it was you on that ship?

Border patrol? Police?

Or: people from some government arm who scoops you up and transport you away to some kind of internment camp?

or: handcuffs you, separates you from the rest of your family and then drive you off to an undisclosed destination?

or: have your children taken away from you to "God knows where" under the heading of "for their own good"? 

It baffles me that people escaping wars and other catastrophes seeking refuge in another country are not treated as "innocent until proven guilty".  To put someone behind bars requires proof of an act of criminality, as in, they are supposed to be presumed to be innocent until proven guilty, so why does not the same principle apply to human beings seeking refuge?
Are we enlightened or are we living in an age of fear and suspicion where we convict and judge people as guilty before we even attempt to seek any proof of guilt?
I seriously hope not.

Opinion is a point of view....so is perspective

How we see things, often depends on whether we see the whole picture or mere a part of it. If this is all we see, then this is probably a black square. Engaging one's imagination, perhaps one may go on to create a narrative to go along with it: This could be a close-up of something black as in a black laptop, a black mouse pad, a black car, or the end of universe, the bottom of a very deep and light-less cave, a black square on a chess board, etc. etc. Or, it could be just a black square, full stop. In order to move past the concept of it being just a black square, more information is needed. So, let me offer more information.

                                                                                      Some more information. What is this now? A         black square with some other colours on it? An abstract painting? Clouds on a dark night with outlines of trees, buildings, or other objects? Even with a vivid imagination, it would be difficult to say for sure what this may actually be....more information is needed, although some of us may be quite satisfied with viewing it as just an abstract painting.
                                                                     

Okay. Now one can see definitive outlines. With the addition of more information one may safely conclude that this is a specific something. The colours, and the lines, .....the placement of them seem deliberate.  What it actually depicts is still hard to tell, although for some of us it may still be an abstract painting...and that's okay, no further information needed. For someone curious by nature (such as myself), this image would probably conjure up a desire for more information in order to find out what the "bigger picture" is...
The definitive lines, the deliberate placement of them, the choice of colours and the placement of them, the brush strokes.... sometimes precise and sometimes wispy....more information, please.

Aha! It's a bird of some sort.... a raven? A crow? A black bird? Just that little bit more of a perspective/information and there is enough information to deduce that this is definitely some kind of bird.
There is a beak, the head looks like a birds head, and it does not take much imagination to "see" parts of its wings. It would now be difficult to describe the image as an abstract image, for most of us this is now a "figurative" image depicting a bird. (What kind of bird, well, that may vary.)

The "bigger picture". That, which from the beginning was just a black square, now, with the disclosure of more and more information, I think I can now safely say that we all see a bird of some kind, and being the person who painted this image, I can add one more bit of information; it is a crow. Albeit my own interpretation......

So, what is this blog all about? you may ask.
Perspective, or put another way: point of view.
Having an opinion, a point of view, is something common to most of us. What is also common for most of us is that we often form our opinions quite quickly without reflecting on exactly how and or why we have come to hold those opinions.

Speaking from my own experiences, I have had to alter my opinions/perspectives many times about many things. First hand experiences, seeking additional information, deepening one's understanding, increasing one's knowledge base, and or listening to others points of view, can be very helpful in being able to see a bigger picture. (According to some, how we view life is a matter of perspective.)
Opinions, although they may often feel like the "truth", are often views based on our beliefs about something more often than facts, and or knowledge.
What do you see? A black square. What if I told you that it is actually the breast part of a crow? Don't be silly. What if I showed you that it is? How are you going to do that? By showing you a bigger picture. The black square is just a small part of the crow.

"Most misunderstandings in the world could be avoided if people would simply take the time to ask: what else could this mean?"  (Shannon L. Alder)

"For what you see and hear depends a good deal on where you are standing: it also depends on what sort of person you are."  (C. S. Lewis)

We begin to learn wisely when we are willing to see the world from other people's perspective."
                                              (Toba Beta)

Don't allow your fears to imprison you..........

Fear.

Fear is a powerful emotion and although at times necessary for survival, if unbridled, it can overpower many other emotions.

Fear, "is an emotional response to a perceived threat" and for the purpose of this blog, I am going to focus on the word "perceived". Whether perceived or actual, our responses often tend to be the same.

Have you heard the saying: "better safe than sorry"? Often times when we feel fearful of something, we have a tendency to react/respond first and then find out whether our fears were legitimate or not. "Is that a poisonous snake? Dunno, but I'm definitely not gonna hang around to find out."

"Better safe than sorry" works well in many situations, especially involving creepy crawlers and hairy critters methinks, but there are also situations when the approach "better safe than sorry" can become a problem. As someone diagnosed with GAD, generalized anxiety disorder, I am quite familiar with perceiving threats all over the place. For someone suffering with GAD, potentially dangerous and threatening scenarios constantly play out in the mind, often beginning with the words "what if?"

"What if he/she doesn't show up, what if I fail, what if I am not good enough, what if I forgot to lock the doors, what if I make a mistake, what if I am wrong", and so on.

Anxiety, often has more to do with the perception of something fearful/scary/dangerous happening in the future rather than something happening right now. 

At this point it's probably a good idea to also talk about worry...is worrying the same as anxiety, for instance?

According to some, when we worry about something, worrying is the thought process that often leads to feelings of anxiety. In my opinion, (as an expert worrier) worrying at times can also be helpful in finding solutions to problems. Some examples: Worrying about being late for an important event, the worrier may give him/herself extra time to get to the event which would solve the "what if something comes up that may make me late for the event" problem. Worrying about running out of gas in the wrong "neighborhood", the worrier may make sure that the petrol tank is never below a quarter,.....and so on.

One person's worry may be another person's anxiety, one person's anxiety may be another person's fear. Regardless of what we call it, worry, anxiety or fear, most of us feel uncomfortable when we experience those emotions.

And regardless of the term we use, what is important in my view, is how we cope with it.

So let me suggest a few things that may be helpful:

*The thing that worries you, or is making you anxious, is it something you can solve?

*Is it something "real", something you know as a fact or is it something you are perceiving to be real?

*What can you learn about it, as in, is there information about it you can get your hands on?

 *Have you dealt with something similar before that you overcame? (Talking here about life-affirming methods such as mindfulness, counselling, etc...not mind altering drugs, booze, etc.)

*Is there someone you can talk to about it?

*Acknowledge your feelings without staying stuck in them; feelings come and go. Change your thoughts and your feelings change.

*Challenge your perceptions by introducing different ones. Are there other ways of looking at this?

*Try to focus on the here and now, when or if, the mind wanders back to the problem/concern/worry, bring it back into the now. Sometimes distracting oneself by doing a simple task of some sort can be helpful.

At times, avoidance may seem as an excellent coping strategy, and at times it may be: "Run Forest, run!" , but as an indiscriminate coping strategy, may I suggest that finding out the underlying reasons for our anxieties and worries is far more helpful. According to those in the know, we are born with only two innate fears: the fear of falling, and the fear of loud noises. All other fears are learned behaviours, and here is the good news, what we have learned we can unlearn.

"You can't always control what goes on outside, but you can always control what goes on inside." (Wayne  Dyer)

"You don't have to control your thoughts. You just have to stop letting them control you." 

 (Dan Millman)

(About the painting. Some people can become so overwhelmed and fearful of life and the world around them, that they create their own "prison cells" in order to feel safe.)

There is more than one way to solve a problem..........

(This painting is a re-interpretation of a poster for the 1957 Movie "House of Numbers". It is painted with acrylic on water colour paper, and I painted it to be part of an Exhibition titled "Cinefiend- a tribute to movie poster art".)

Some years ago, there was TV-show called "Numbers" that I used to enjoy watching. Speaking with my son about it, I told him that I was going to try to buy the whole series, but as I made enquiries, I discovered that it was no longer available for purchase.  As luck would have it, a few weeks later my son stumbled upon the whole series for sale at a bargain price in a pawnshop and he kindly bought it for me as a gift.

It continuously surprises me (though it probably shouldn't by now) just how different things can seem when re-viewing events, memories, situations, interpretations, movies, TV-series, docos, etc. after some time has passed. 

"Numbers", is heavily focused on the premise of solving crimes with the assistance of mathematical equations performed by a talented mathematician.

Now, many years and life-experiences later, and with a different view on the discipline of mathematics, I suddenly found myself wanting to view the TV-series again, but this time, I wanted to try to understand the maths side of the show rather than the drama aspect of it.

It quickly became apparent to me that in order to do so, I had to expand my vocabulary and to familiarize myself with a great number of concepts and terms unknown to me, like for instance: what on earth is an algorithm? Everytime a new problem appeared, it seemed a new algorithm had to be constructed: "Algorithm, a mathematical formula that maps a set of steps for solving problems,"

I decided to turn on the sub-titles to help me catch all the new and un-familiar terms that whizzed by. My thinking was that at least that way, I would hopefully have the correct spelling of the words.

As I watched one episode of "Numbers" after the other, I began to understand more and more of the maths  "language", and the more I understood, the more interested and fascinated I became.

Was it possible that algorithms could be applied to everyday life and its many problems?

Could an algorithm be used as a tool in decision making for instance?

Decision making requires both intuition and logic, and for Brian Christian, author of the book "Algorithms To Live By", the answer is yes, the use of algorithms in decision making can be very useful.

Some of us can find some decisions harder to make than other decisions: "should I quit my job and look for another, should I change my lifestyle, should I buy a "new" car,  should I move to another place", and so on. Decisions that involves a firm commitment with major changes of some kind as a result, often lend themselves more favourably to an "algorithmic" decision making process rather than a purely intuitive process. But, according to those in the know, we still often follow our "gut instinct" (intuition) in preference to logic. Our gut instinct can be very convincing, regardless of any evidence to support our positions. So, what is intuition/gut instinct and where does it come from?

Bruce Henderson: "Intuition is the subconscious integration of all experiences, conditioning, and knowledge of a lifetime, including the cultural and emotional biases of a lifetime." 

If Bruce is correct, then our gut instinct will commonly favour a view that supports our biases and life experiences instinctively so even if the logic tells us something different.

"Would you like to taste one of these Swedish meatballs?"

"No, thank you." 

"Why not, they are delicious. Have you ever tried one?"

"No, but I just know I won't like it. 

"If you have never tried one, how do you know you won't like it?"

 "I just know instinctively, because my intuition tells me I won't like it."

"But if you haven't tried one, is it not just as possible that you may like it just as much as that you won't?"

"I don't care. I trust my gut."

 "Numbers", in my view is an interesting show not only due to the stories/cases, but also due to the complex interplay between a "gut and life-experienced" FBI agent, a brilliant and methodical maths genius, a pragmatic and life-wise father, and a physics /astronomy professor with an open mind toward the "mysteries" of existence.
They all speak their very "own" language, each at times having to "translate" their language to one another, but through the exchange of ideas and ways of seeing, each of them continuously learn new ways of viewing problems, events, situations, and problem solving.
I can't help but wonder if perhaps the creators who conjured up the concept for this TV-series may not perhaps have ever so subtly been trying to suggest an alternate model for problem solving that sees creative thinking, co-operation, and open-mindedness at its core.
The mind boggles.......
Is it not possible that society on a whole could benefit if when faced with a problem we would ask for assistance from a multitude of differently skilled people, from all walks of life?
I believe society would, what about you?

"If people work together in an open way and with porous boundaries - that is, if they listen to each other and really talk to each other - then they are bound to trade ideas that are mutual to each other and to be influenced by each other. That mutual influence and open system of working creates collaboration." (Richard Thomas)

Saying sorry, a bullet or a bridge?........

(The words are to be taken as a sarcastic comment)

Compared to the size of a human, bullets are small, but the size of the devastation they can cause when fired from a gun into a human body (or any other living creature).........is often enormous.

Such small objects, yet so deadly and destructive, well not on their own, but when loaded into a gun of some sort.

Early one morning, 5:30 am, I awoke to a loud banging on my front door. I ran downstairs with my heart pounding, wondering what fresh new hell had arrived at my doorstep.

I opened the door and there before me stood two uniformed, big, and serious looking police officers.

(I knew they were serious because they were both armed with guns, their car had the "juicer" on, and I could hear a voice talking on their radio.)

Without much ado, they burst into my living-room. "Name and address, please" one of them said.

This close-up to an armed police officer was a first for me, and I have to admit, I was quite frazzled.

"What is happening, why are you here?" I asked.  As far as I could ascertain, they were chasing someone who was dealing in drugs and weapons, but they had obviously been given the wrong address. 

Looking around my small apartment, I think they quickly realized their error and just as suddenly as they had shown up, they disappeared. That, I am fortunate to say, is the closest I have ever been to a loaded, or unloaded, gun.

Sometimes I wonder if "words" can perhaps be likened to bullets, perhaps even as "weapons of mass-destruction"?

We say something in the heat of a moment, we know that the words will hurt and possibly damage a relationship, but we "fire" them nonetheless. Whether we feel that we are protecting ourselves or not, once we have fired those bullets (=words we know will hurt), the damage is done, and at times the consequences can have long lasting and devastating effects.

A bullet lodged in a body must be removed for healing to take place, and in my view, this also applies to hurtful words. Although, it may perhaps at times be easier to physically remove a bullet than hurtful words....

In heated discussions, misunderstandings and confrontations we can often "fire away" words like bullets that we later regret: "oh yeah, and you are fat! or "oh yeah, but you are an idiot!" or "oh yeah, but you are a liar!"....etc. etc.

And just like real bullets, the words hurt and cause damage, sadly, sometimes irreparably so. 

"I am sorry" according to Elton John, are the hardest words to say, but I believe they go a long way in assisting healing after harsh words have been exchanged. 

So, why is it so hard for some of us to say "sorry"?

Well, we want to be "right"....saying sorry means acknowledging that we did/said something wrong.

It can be hard to apologize if we feel uncertain of how the apology will be received: "what if he/she/they reject my apology?"

Some of us may hold the view that saying sorry is a sign of weakness, and to apologize may alter one's status.

In a world of "winners" and "losers", apologizing for some of us may be viewed as reversing the roles: giving an apology makes you a "loser", and the person receiving the apology becomes a "winner".

We all have an ego, and saying sorry can be hard for the ego to take, so pride often gets in the way.

But here's the thing, when we take ownership and responsibility for our own words and actions, apologize if we have said or done something that hurt someone, we show others that we care.

Chances are, that just as much as we appreciate when someone apologizes to us, others appreciate when we apologize to them. 

Bullets, in difference to words, are often final, words however, can be stretched, re-defined, explained, exchanged, elaborated on, translated, interpreted, and so on, .....words,... are malleable.

Bullets?...not so much.

Perhaps it may prove prudent to find a "safety catch" that will assist us in not accidentally firing off "bullets" even in ever so heated situations? Actually, I do believe there may be one: "think before you speak."

In the event of the safety catch failing, how wonderful is it not that we have words that can bring healing: "I am so sorry that I hurt you".

"Sorry is a bridge, not a bullet."  (Citizen Z)

Ever had a "falling down" moment?............

Chapter 6:         Defiance

"-There's something wrong with you, you're not normal" Lina, the school bully said as she pushed Lisa to the ground. Lina, was a big and bossy girl that nobody even attempted to stand up to, not even the boys. Lina, was the boss of the school ground.

"-Get up idiot, don't just lay there!" shouted Lina as she started to kick Lisa. Lisa covered her head with her hands and tried to make herself as small as possible. "I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry" Lisa thought to herself as one after the other kick hit her body. Egged on by other children shouting: "Fight! Fight! Fight!" Lina started to laugh. "No fight here, this idiot doesn't even know how to fight" Lina said and with those words, it was over. They all walked away leaving Lisa curled up in a fetal position on the ground.

Slowly, Lisa stood up. With every one gone, she allowed one single tear to escape down her cheek before she started to walk back to the classroom. As she hang her brand new red parka on the hook outside the classroom, she muttered to herself: "I am not an idiot, they are."

Three hours later, the "end-of-day" school-bell rang. Lisa stayed back in the classroom until everyone had left, then she grabbed her trumpet case off the floor, her schoolbag, and walked across the schoolyard to the music room in the new school building, where she was to have her trumpet lesson. The hallway outside the music room stunk of stale cigar smoke and over-brewed coffee.

 Lisa opened the door to the music room, and there, behind a cloud of smoke and with his clarinet in his hand, stood Mr. Pearson, her music teacher. Although she had never said anything, she always wondered why Mr. Pearson never used a trumpet but always a clarinet to her teach how to play the trumpet.

Usually, he would just tell her to play scales and arpeggios and then duck back into the teachers lounge until the lesson was over, "but not this time", Lisa thought, I want to play something else.

"Mr. Pearson" she begun, "I want to play something else, I want to play either a Louis Armstrong tune, or the slow movement of Haydn's trumpet Concerto in D Major, and I have the sheet music with me for both." Mr. Pearson looked over the rim of his glasses at the little girl standing in front of him, let out sigh, and then said: "Lisa, you are ten years old, you can not play those pieces, to play those pieces you have to have played the trumpet for years, they are far too difficult for you."

"But Mr. Pearson, I have the music on records and I play along with them already, I just want you to help me with some of the notes" Lisa responded and then carried on: "I know that scales are important, but so are songs, aren't they? Isn't that why I have to learn how to play scales and arpeggios?" 

Lisa surprised herself with her outspokenness, she had never before asked Mr. Pearson a single question, not even if he could give her a lift, although he always passed her in his car on his way home after the lessons. Even though it was often dark when she walked home alone from her lessons, or poured with rain, or blew a gale that froze her to the bone, or snow fell that made visibility virtually nil, or other children harassed and taunted her, he had never asked if she needed or wanted a lift.

Mr. Pearson let out a "huh" and then answered: "What do you know about music, you are way too young, stop this nonsense, and start playing your scales" and with those words he left the room, with the door slamming shut behind him.

Lisa looked at the closed door, thought for a second, then grabbed her things and walked out the door.

Filled with anger and frustration she started the long walk home. She was angry with school, she was angry with Lina, she was angry with Mr. Pearson, she was angry with her teacher who never helped her with the bullies, she was angry with herself for not fighting back, she was angry that nobody seemed to understand how important music was to her and how music was her best friend.

Half way home, still full of anger, she suddenly remembered that she had seen a look-out tower once when she was walking home. "That's it, I'm going to climb that tower" she said to herself. She started to look for it and before long, there it was. To get to it, she had to climb a very steep hill, through a forest of trees, over unfriendly rock formations, but she was still so angry that she barely noticed any of the obstacles. Finally she stood beneath the look-out tower. She left her schoolbag on the ground, grabbed the trumpet case, then with much effort she climbed the tower. Not until she finally stood on the platform of the tower, did she realize just how high the tower was. Standing close to the guardrail on the tower, she looked down on the ground, lifted her trumpet case, and then with an angry scream, she hurled the trumpet case to the ground. Sparkles of metal glimmered like little start bursts as the trumpet broke apart and pieces scattered every which way. Finally the anger that Lisa had felt dissipated. She climbed down. Back on the ground, she collect the pieces, put them in the broken case, pulled the cord out of the hood on her red parka, and tied it all together, then found her way back to the road.

  With her schoolbag over her shoulder, the haphazardly held together trumpet case under one arm, she continued her walk home, and although she knew that there would be dire consequences as a result of her behaviour, she no longer felt angry. She felt as if she had found a kind of inner strength that she never knew she had. At home, waiting for her, was her best friend, and its name was Music.

Music; "it hears your heart, it hears your thoughts, it hears your fears, it hears your hopes," Lisa thought to herself as she saw the warm and inviting lights flowing out into the evening through the windows of her home.