The purpose of life is ageless.......................

My father was a complicated man.

 Expressing emotions did not come easy to him,

neither did verbalizing the many thoughts that

he often pondered deeply.

His last few years were fraught with anxiety, pain,

and questioning if there had been a purpose to

his life.

In an attempt to try and soothe his anxieties, 

I wrote a poem for him.

(Having noticed that sometimes the written word

can be far more effective in reaching someone's

heart than the spoken word.)

Life in every breath

Reality of finality

A stark reminder

of humanity and 

its vulnerability.

Time once a friend

now less to spend.

The past, the then,

such a curious blend.

The mind an easy prey

when eerie thoughts linger

in the dark of the night

or during the day.

Can a whole life fit in the palm of a hand

or a life lived in full, in a grain of sand?

Do the stars come out at night

just to stir the imagination?

Do the birds sing just to

evoke joy and fascination?

Do we really need to know

why atoms stick together

to appreciate our lives

and love each other better?

Watching our children

 as they mature before our eyes,

do we see that in their very beings

we live forever through a love that binds?

Perhaps the fear of nothingness

can be expelled by the hope of something-ness?

Perhaps a little faith in love and tenderness

can mollify persisting thoughts of emptiness?

Maybe every moment of life we are given

are not ours to claim nor that we've earned them.

Moments are fragile, delicate like bubbles.

Fleeting, floating, yet ever so fabulous.

As long as we take one breath and then another,

there is living, loving and so much life to discover.

All we need to do is open our eyes and truly see

 that the purpose, the reason for life ...... is to BE.

''The purpose of life is to live it,

taste it, to experience it to the utmost,

to reach out eagerly for newer and

richer experiences.''

(Eleanor Roosevelt)

about the image: graphite on large cardboard

Having a hard time having fun these days?

-So what do you do just for fun? she asked.

Fun? Might seem like an easy question to answer

but when I was asked the question I discovered that I

I really had no definitive answer.

What do I do just for fun?

If one defines fun as something one does for pure enjoyment,

excitement and amusement, then it seems as if what

one experiences as fun changes as time ticks along.

At one time in my life ''fun'' meant climbing the highest tree

I could find, jumping puddles of water, making snow angels,

and playing with my siblings.

As time went on fun meant playing basketball, listening

to new music, hanging with friends and swooning over

some love interest.

Then my brother died and nothing seemed fun anymore.

Grief, I discovered, had the ability to make fun seem indulgent,

frivolous and laden with feelings of guilt.

How could it be okay for me to have fun when my

brother was dead?

I put fun on the shelf and instead went in search of

meaningful, soul fulfilling and all-absorbing.

The hole in my heart created when my brother died

was so overwhelming that I needed to do something

to try and hold it together somehow.

 I chose music, although I now realize that music

had already chosen me long before my brother died.

My concept of fun from before my brother's passing changed.

Fun now became anything to do with music.

I threw down the gauntlet and dedicated myself to

learning how to play as many instruments as I could,

how to compose, how to write sheet music, how to

analyze music, how to transcribe music, how to write

lyrics to songs, in short, how to saturate my soul with all

that music had to offer.

And so many years passed.

Eventually I got married and produced an offspring.

My concept of fun now had to go through another transformation.

Music was still fun, but so was being with my son.

For years I balanced being a dedicated musician and a

 devoted parent until my son left home and became an artist

as well.

His life (like many artists life) was turbulent with many ups and

 downs and for me, filled with many sleepless nights.

But once again, music helped me through it.

Was I still experiencing music as fun? Sometimes.

I began to search for something new that felt like fun.

I decided to try painting.

Much to my amazement I discovered that I seemed to have

a knack for it, but more importantly, it was fun.

I turned my living room into a studio of sorts and

with music blaring, day after day I painted canvas after canvas

of whatever my imagination could dream up.

I discovered that not only was it fun, when I painted

I entered a state of flux(the zone) in which time and place just

seemed to vanish. 

When I was painting I would often have my front door

open and as I live in a town house complex, anyone 

passing by my place would be able not only to hear 

the music I was listening to, but also see me painting.

Now and then people started to come to my front door and ask 

if they could come in and see what I was painting.

One such day there was a gentle voice asking 

through my screen door: -Hello? Hello?

I put down my brush and walked to the screen door.

-Yes?

I opened the door and standing in front of me was a 

sweet looking elderly woman.

-I can see that you're painting, she said and

then continued:-Can I have a look?

-Sure, come on in, I answered.

Standing on the easel was the (above)Mickey painting.

-My son would love this painting, is it for sale? she asked.

-Well, yes, I guess, although I'm not sure if I've finished it yet.

I mean, it's still wet.

-How much will it cost? I mean, it's quite large isn't it.

My son is a painter too, you see, but I know he would

really enjoy your painting.

I decided to give her the painting.

-You know what, you can have it, I said.

-Are you sure?

-Yep, I am.

-My son is coming for a visit tomorrow so can I pick it up

tomorrow morning?

-Sure, it will probably be dry by then.

The next morning she came by and picked up

the painting and handed me a lovely packet

of wholesome biscuits as thanks.

When I painted the Mickey painting I was having a lot of

fun but I think giving it away, was even more fun.

Two weeks later the elderly lady came by again

and told me that her son loved the painting.

What do I consider as fun these days when due to

osteoarthritis in most parts of my body I can no longer

paint large canvases or play the piano or any other instrument?

I decided that in order to have more fun I had to broaden my

definition of the term.

So now ''fun'' incorporates anything that I see, hear, touch, taste,

 and or experience that makes me smile on the ''inside''

 as well as on the ''outside''

of my being. 

If you too would like to experience more fun in your life,

perhaps broadening the way you define the term

may work for you as well?

 about the painting: ''Mickey'' acrylic on large canvas

The background was made by me splashing colours

randomly on the canvas until an idea would pop up.

While watching the paint drip I suddenly saw

 Mickey's face on it.

I had a lot of fun doing this particular painting.

Cash? Why? Cause you never know when a coin may save your life........

 

-Are you sure you shouldn't stay the night? my mother

asks anxiously.

-Lorna, leave the boy alone, he's a man now so he

makes his own decisions, my father injects.

-Don't fuss, I say and grab my car keys.

I thank them for the nice meal and tell them

that I'll call in a week.

In my mind I'm already in my car and on the

way home, but in reality I'm walking out

the door waving goodbye and getting in my car.

I place my phone in the cradle, turn on the ignition

and start the long drive home.

Not far down the road a sort of melancholy comes 

over me.  I can't really pinpoint exactly where it

comes from only that recently it seems to show up

every time I leave my folks.

Perhaps it has something to do with that I am becoming

more aware of that they are getting older, more forgetful

and somehow more fragile.

I know that my father wants me to take over the place,

spruce it up a bit and make it into a money-earning business

again but ...... just the sheer thought of doing so makes me want to

hop on the next flight to the other side of the planet.

A deep sigh from the depth of my subconscious escapes

and suddenly I'm overcome by tiredness.

To prevent myself from falling asleep at the wheel

I flick through my lists of music on my mobile

and turn up the volume.

While driving through dark and ominous looking

woods with music blaring and me thumping

the steering wheel along with the beat,

suddenly the mobile dies.

-Hmm, that's odd, I think, but just put it down

to bad reception.

Knowing that I still have another four hours of

driving to do, the phone not working gradually starts

to concern me.

I tap on the screen but it stays dark.

-I probably forgot to charge it, I tell myself

but the phone not working makes me feel

uncomfortable.

Suddenly a horrible thought pushes its way into my

anxious mind.

-What if the car decides to go dark too?

I mean, when was the time when I last charged the car?

I quickly check all the gages on the dashboard and

discover that I am down to my last bit of battery

power.

Ok, this is not good.

What's also not very good, is that I haven't seen any

 lights or even some kind of indication of human activity for

quite some time.

How deep is this forest??

I tap the screen on the phone hoping it will

come back alive by some miracle, but to no

avail.

And then, almost soundlessly, the engine in my car and

all the lights on the dashboard turn off.

Slowly I roll on to the shoulder of the road.

I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere with no way

of getting any assistance.

It's so quiet around me that I feel as if I'm the

only human in the world.

Now what?

I close my eyes, lean the seat back, and tell myself:

-Think! Come on, think!!!

My mind is spinning and a million thoughts

flood my consciousness but none of them

useful.

The reality is that I'm sitting in a little cocoon in the middle

of a dark forest with no way of contacting the rest of

the world.

All I can do is to hope that somebody else will show

up and offer me some help, or, wait for the morning

light and then start to walk.

The irony of it all.

Here I am, armed with the latest technology and yet....

I'm totally unable to contact anybody to come and

help me because my mobile doesn't work and there

are no public phones along this stretch of road.

Mind you, even if there was a public phone I could not

use it because I no longer use cash money. I only

use my phone to pay stuff with.

And, even if there was a gas station open at this time

of night, unless it was equipped with an electric car

battery charge station, I still could not pay for the

charge since my phone is dead.

Hmm.

Hope it is.

Might as well try to sleep.

I zip up my jacket, close my eyes and

get as comfortable as I can.

As I am dozing off my last thought is:

''Change your car to a hybrid, always carry a bit of

cash, always keep a fully charged spare phone in 

your glovebox.''

''I wish we would scrutinize our fascination with

technology just a little bit harder sometimes so that we 

don't end up creating problems which we already solved a

long time ago.''

(Citizen Z)

about the image: acrylic on canvas

Why can't you be normal! ..........

-Why can't you be like a normal person?

Why do you always have to be so damned deep

and serious all the time?  he asked impatiently.

She thought for a moment and then answered:

-I don't know what it's like to be a normal person, 

I only know what it's like to be me. 

This may make me seem like a singularity rather than a

commonality, yet, all life lived is predominantly experienced 

by each of us individually isn't it?

-Oh, shut up with that deep and probing stuff! he said

and then looked at her with a big grin on his face.

(This is an actual conversation I had in the car one night

when Tommie(my drummer friend) and I were on the

way home from a gig.)

Singularity can mean a lot of different things,

but for the purpose of this blog I am using the

the option(s) that means: singular/unique/one of a kind.

The opposite of singularity is as far as I can ascertain: 

  common/standard/normal etc.

Collectors know that for something to be really

valuable it has to be rare.

Watching ''Antiques Roadshow'' on Telly one afternoon,

in this particular episode they showed a woman

 who had brought with her a little porcelain vase for the

experts to appraise.

When asked where she had bought the little vase the

woman told the expert that she had bought it in a second hand

store for a pound fifty.

-Do you collect porcelain vases? asked the expert.

-Oh, no, I don't. I bought it on impulse one day while 

I was waiting for my bus. 

-And was this in a specialty shop selling porcelain?

-Oh, no, I bought it from a second hand store.

-What made you buy this particular vase?

-I don't know really. It just looked so delicate and beautiful.

-I see, well let me have a little look, said the expert.

The expert put on some soft gloves and then picked up the

little vase to have a close look. 

-Well my dear, I have to commend you on your purchase

because this little vase is one of a very small number of

similar vases made in China during the Yuan Dynasty.

This little beauty was made somewhere between the late

1200's  and early 1300's.

A gasp went through the crowd watching.

-Would you like to know how much it is worth, dear?

-Yes, please.

-This little vase is worth somewhere between 95.000 and

120.000 pound.

On hearing this the crowd burst out in to rapturous applauds and 

cheering. The woman who owned the vase, clutched her

heart and then gently whispered: -Well, I never.

If it impossible for two human beings to have identical/exactly

the same DNA(except for clones) does that not mean that

basically every one of us is a singularity?

And since each of us are unique/one of a kind, ought that

not make each of us priceless?

So why do we seem to find it so difficult to accept

and enjoy each others differences?

Why do we seem to value normal and common more

than ''different''?

Wouldn't it be nice if we could learn to appreciate

each others quirks and differences rather than mock them?

''The world needs psychological singularity, that is

oneness between humans, not some pompous

bio-technological singularity.''

(Abhijit Naskar)

about the image: ''Singularity''

Soft pastel on paper

Love is not something we fall in or out of....it's a choice.

Event though I have the fan on full speed and blowing straight

into my face, I'm still boiling hot.

I've disregarded sheets, blankets and any type of clothing,

and yet, I'm still sweating up a storm oozing with perspiration

from every pore on my body.

In desperation I grab a pair of socks, fill them with water,

squeeze them a little and then put them on.

I lay down on the bed feet directly in front of the fan.

Ahh, finally, I feel a little cooler and manage to fall

asleep.

Although I have celebrated a LOT of Christmases here

in Australia, I'm not sure that I will ever get used to

celebrating it at temperatures that melts candles, cheese

and butter into puddles even with the air-con on.

One thing with traditions in my view is that we like to keep

 many of them even when we venture off to take up residency

in new and traditionally/culturally different countries. 

In my family's case that has meant that we have kept up

with most of our Swedish culinary traditions as much

 as possible.

So in our case: boiled potatoes served with herring and sour cream,

 baked ham, warm sauerkraut, warm meatballs, a number

of different kinds of cheeses, fried little sausages, a

number of different kinds of salads, and much more.

Not really suited to a country in which the temperatures

at Christmas time usually soars way above 30 degrees Celsius.

Alas, this year we are doing Christmas the Aussie way.

We are having a BBQ.

As I am not doing any of the food this year I'm not

sure exactly what is going to be BBQed but I'm 

hoping that included on the menu is also a Pavlova.

Pavlova is a meringue-based desert with a crisp outer shell

and a melt-in-your-mouth soft fluffy center topped with

a LOT of whipped cream and masses of fresh fruit.

Absolutely scrumptious and well suited for a ''hot''

country such as Australia methinks.

Looking at the bottom of my screen I can see

that right now (1:12pm) it's 31 degrees cel. outside.

(Thank goodness that my old air-conditioner is still

holding on!)

Good grief! It's going to be another restless night.

Better get me wet socks ready.

This close to the end of the year, I would like

to jot down some thoughts.

Love is a choice.

It's not something we fall in to or out of.

Happiness is a choice.

It's not something we can buy or be traded out of.

Forgiveness is a choice.

It's not something others must do, it's something we need to do.

Caring is a choice.

It's not something we expect of others to do, it's something we

 need to freely give.

Compassion is a choice.

It's not something to be viewed as weakness, 

it's something to be viewed as strength.

Benevolence is a choice.

It's not something that belongs only to Christmas,

it's something to be practiced daily.

💗

For you who are reading this right now:

I wish you peace, love and much joy.

(Citizen Z)

about the image: Winter landscape, acrylic on canvas

                                                                                       

Pushing back the Darkness.........

There are days and then there are DAYS.

Days when the flickering light from

a small candle is powerful enough to

 push back the deepest of darknesses.

Days when no matter how strong and 

powerful the light, insidiously

 the darkness tries to consume it.

Thinking about how we use the terms

light and darkness metaphorically as in:

 light = good/positive/lifegiving and

 darkness = bad/negative/injurious,

I suddenly had a new thought.

What if light and darkness could be interpreted

not as oppositional terms but as complementary?

Can there be light without darkness?

Do we need to know darkness to know light?

(The Shadow ID)

''The sole purpose of human existence is

to kindle a light of meaning in the darkness

of mere being. We cannot change anything

unless we accept it. How can we be substantial

unless we cast a shadow?

We must have a dark side also if we are to be whole.''

(Carl Jung)

Although it varies from person to person how

we may experience ''the darkness'', or our

''shadow selves'', in my view, often

emotions such as a sense of chaos, meaninglessness,

helplessness, confusion and a profound sense of

sadness somehow tend to accompany the darkness

and our shadow selves.

At times we may even experience ''the darkness''

as a collapse of all that makes life meaningful to us

and this, speaking from personal experience,

can be really scary.

But......

it also opens up the possibility for a transformation,

for a new way of seeing, interpreting and understanding

who we are and what makes life meaningful for us.

Change does not come easy for us humans,

and in my opinion, usually it tends to involve pain,

however........

pain, is often a very good teacher.

Have you ever done something in the heat of

 the moment only to really regret it later?

Perhaps even asking yourself why you did something

so out of character?

-I'm not that sort of person! you may tell yourself.

The regret you feel suddenly makes you question 

whether you may actually be that sort of person.

Looking at yourself in the mirror suddenly

the Shadow looks back at you and dark thoughts

slowly creeps into your mind and throws light

on something you've kept hidden.

It hurts, you don't like the pain, but you can't

unknow what you now know, so you have 

to make a decision.

Avoid all mirrors in the future or throw

some light on the Shadow and deal with it.

Light is a great disinfectant.

Exposing wounds to light helps them to heal.

When the ''darkness'' makes its presence known

to us, perhaps it's trying to tell us that it

is time for us to throw some ''light''

on the state of our souls, hearts and minds.

about the images: ''The power of Light''

:ink, graphite on water colour paper

Bellow: The Shadow, acrylic on large canvas

I get knocked down but I get up again.....how to be resilient

Resilience.

Resilience is the ability to recover from traumatic/difficult

life experiences and setbacks and find a way to adapt, to ''move

forward''.

 (Moving forward, as in withstanding the storms

and turmoil that life sometimes sends our way in a

 positive and life-affirming way. In psychology this is

called post-traumatic growth.)

Why do some people seem to be able to ''get back up''

no matter how many times they get knocked down,

and some others don't?

In other words, is resilience something some of us

are born with or is it something we acquire through

our ability to deal with life's many twists and turns?

As far as I can ascertain, genetics and upbringing

play a part in how resilient we are, but resilience

can be developed and improved on regardless.

Resilience, says those in the know, is an innate human

capacity that can be learned and developed by/in anyone.

Question is, if we all have the capacity to be resilient,

why do some of us seem to be ''better'' at it

than others?

Dr. Southwick, professor emeritus of psychiatry and

co-author of the book ''Resilience: The science of

mastering life's greatest challenges.'' has this to

say: ''Resilient people learn to carefully accept

what they can't change about a situation and

then ask themselves what they can actually change.''

Resilience, unlike for instance our height(/how tall we are), 

is something we can actually change, improve on, 

get better at, ...grow.

How? you may ask.

I have noticed that people who have the habit 

of ''getting up again'' when they get knocked down 

seem to share a number of traits.

When something difficult/bad happens they:

They appraise the situation carefully,

they decide what they can and can't change,

they adapt,

they keep a flexible outlook,

they maintain a sense of perspective,

they focus on problem solving,

they are aware of their own emotions,

they find something of value in the experience

to mention a few attributes.

''Persistence and resilience only come from

having been given the chance to work through

difficult problems.''

(Grever Tully)

about the image: ink on watercolor paper

''The tree that bends in the wind remains unbroken.''