Emotions not worth mentioning?

I am sad.

When was the last time you said it? Even more to the point, when did you last say 'I am sad' to another person? At a guess, you don't remember it. You might have said 'I am upset', 'I am pissed off!', 'I feel depressed' or even 'I don't feel all that energetic' (quite a mouthful). But 'I am sad'? That honest, simple statement has probably eluded you for quite some time.

There seems to be something quite childish and puny about it. As though being sad where the realm of an unrefined understanding of feelings. Sure, kids can feel sad but we don't expect to hear about it. We do try our best to prevent that state. So youngsters are encouraged to claim and proclaim they are happy, and learn to have temper tantrums and scowl when they are "not happy".

We are not sad! 18th century gents and ladies were "melancholy", others were "distempered", music is "blue"... How can we be sad? That's so not-cool! And anyway, we are supposed to be happy!

But, wait: when did you last tell 'I am happy' to someone? Just that, without extras like 'I am happy you came' or 'I am happy to inform you...' Just plain, open, cheer-for-cheer's sake 'I am happy'. Aha, exactly - you don't remember either. You have to justify your happiness in order to make it acceptable. If you don't, you must be some "alternative" type, a neo-hippy who still has freckles and a spotty innocent face. Hardly someone with enough creed and smarts to be considered "adult", eh?

There may seem to be some unworthy feelings; feelings which are not sophisticated enough to warrant being pushed into the realms of the unmentionable. But they are unadulterated, welling up like water from a spring. If pure water is desirable above all others, why not pure feelings? No need to dwell on them overlong, of course, yet acknowledging them brings release, I have found, as well as the maturity of self-reflection.

Well, I am sad. And I am happy, too.

Silence

In the last few days, I feel I speak too much. I am always a chatterbox, that's true, but these days, I can feel myself tire from it. How often do the others feel tired from listening?

It is difficult, at times, to understand what is behind our actions and feelings. And, of course, it has taken me to actually sit down to write about it to realise the root of the situation. What prompts us (I am the example) to talk and not listen? The desire for control. If we talk, we control what is being said, what the others are thinking about. We can lead the "conversation" in the direction we want it to go, where we set up the limits, the goals, the humorous snippets.

We talk to avoid listening, not to elicit a reply. Or, we make sure the environment drowns our voices: loud music in the pub; fast-pace offices; music devices to isolate us from the other commuters on the bus...

Still, I think it is less a matter of lack of respect for others, and more an issue of uncertainty, of subjection. Sometimes, it is an aspect of compensation - we talk more to eradicate what has been said, that has shocked us and left us shaken. More importantly, it is a therapy of self-assurance: I know what I am talking about, I can control it, I can do it. See? It is just words, my words, and they are now just air, echo, nothing except fading memory. Like the story I got from Irene (I suppose it's a bit from "The Alchemist"), it is our hearts that we want not to listen to; a message that will be heard by those next to us, and duly, wisely, painfully returned to us. And so, we talk to shut down their voices, telling us about our hearts.

We talk to erase our weak selves, to turn our crippling fears into thin air, to prove to ourselves how powerful we are, to distract our demons. We talk to cry out for help because, like a baby, we want comforting milk and tender hugs.

Shhhhhhh. It is time now, to listen.

When negative is positive

Sometimes, hearing something negative is a blessing.

I have had confirmation this morning: hearing about a negative result can make me want to dance and sing. There is no right or wrong in life. Just perception. I decide to perceive the good in the negative. I decide to expect to receive more wonderful negatives. I have lost my fear of negation.

I can see the plants outside, swaying in the wind. The summer is finished, and the holidays are over. It is time to stay home more, have less hours of sun and think of hibernating. It is time to plant what I mean to reap in spring, enjoy a good read and dream. I refuse to be cowed by circumstances. I cannot control the outside, but I can control the inside.

I am learning by inspirational example - amazing, grand, generous, and brave. Joy is the heart of Life! I had forgotten although I kept mentioning it. The negative has brought me Joy. And I am grateful.

I shall live. For me, and for no-one else. Not because I want to be selfish, but because it is my right to find greatness in myself, in my disappointments, in my negatives. And it is your right to do so too, without anyone living for you, stealing your experiences out of love, care, or protection.

A negative can be more than a new lease of life.

The Tower

It was a sunny day, and we were surrounded by families, laughter and learning. We were at The Tower of London. Now, if you have never been there you may not know that it is actually a series of fortifications which started as a King's castle but became most famous as a prison and place of horrors. And as I was sitting there, resting for a bit, soaking up a few late-summer rays while my companions visited the military museum, I realised:  it was 11th September. Hum.  Here we were, in a historical location of pain, on a day made famous by pain (and its bellicose consequences) - yet the fact that the place held no more pain but life, that the day was a sunny Saturday of cheer and well being, was more powerful.

I reJoiced!! It filled me up with hope and gratitude for the gift: it is not the pain, not the death and the horror; it is the cheer, the life and the curiosity. Not only were we in the Tower on such a date, but it was also the 70th anniversary of the Battle of Britain - many documentaries, news, and people remember the Blitz, the war, the terror, the rage. And I could not feel it, even as I tried. What a blessing! Life will triumph over all!

Why, then, are there wars and do we feel so much fear of our neighbours? Why do we succumb to the "threat" and forget and go to battle? Why do we call it "glorious" and the poor people involved, "heroes" after they (mostly) die? And why, for goodness' sake, do we insist on relieving the situations, stirring up the fears and perpetuating the hurt?

The Tower, in Tarot, represents a fake situation of safety which is, in fact a prison. To escape it, an extreme situation must take place. We, as a "developed" species, have fell into our own trap - creating walls and arming ourselves into killing offensives while open arms and shared learning would give us greater life.

I call for a cancellation of mementos of pain. Let us all reJoice in what the people did in life, how much they created, how many people they loved and helped, and how many people loved and helped them. And ignore the others, they just want attention and mayhem. They are unworthy of our attention. We have already learned.

I love, therefore I live.

Daring

It often surprises me that people I know believe I am a daring person. It's cute, really. I am one of the least voluntarily adventurous people you could think of. In fact, I am often so worried at doing/not doing things that the reasoning behind  a choice is apprehension. For example, I take on new chances when they turn up because I am petrified at the thought I might be missing out on something good that won't come by again. Urgh!! It gives me the chills. Or, an even worse scenario (nightmare central, in my book): looking back in time and regretting missing out on the chance.

It got me thinking about what daring really is. Basically, it functions like a pushing hand at the back, making sure we move forward towards self-development and progress. It is through it that we achieve perpetuity. And it is the greatest element we need to really love - and if you don't believe me, think of slugs and spiders, who literally take their lives to the very brink (they dare, in other words) in order to reproduce. And how beautiful they are when they do so!

Granted, beauty is not the first thing that comes to mind when you think of those two, but please take my word for it: it fits. I discovered this through a documentary, and if I could remember its name, it'd be here in neon. But I digress... Slugs, those slimy boneless yucks that eat holes in our beloved plants, have an amazing mating ritual. In a nutshell, two slugs meet on a leaf or branch, wrap themselves about each other and produce a string of slime strong enough to hang from. Yes, that's right: they literally "hang by a thread" while copulating. And, if this daring was not enough, they then open up an astounding white plume (their reproductive organ) that fans itself against each other. And it is lodged in their head! So they open "heart and mind" in a way.

Spiders are less showy, but still surprising. The male, smaller than the female, must tap and "massage" the female so they can copulate - he wedges himself under her, and they seem to dance. If he is not a good enough dancer, and nimbly steps away after the act, she will kill and eat him. In fact, even if she does not, he will die shortly after the mating. He literally "gives it all up for his kids".

Now, who of us is actually willing to go to such extremes? How many of us has done so? I am not daring, I am fearful at my thoughts. Dare, that is the key to love. If we have to be daring, that seems to me the best way to do so, the best reason.

It takes a village

It takes a village to raise a child. How many people does it take to help the child grow and become a wo/man?

I am the result of the efforts of many. Some of the wonderful people, and most of the horrid ones, are lost to the mists of time (or, rather, a bad memory). But most of my "village" are either with me or pop up randomly. You can do your count for your personal case as I do mine. In fact, please do so. Feel how their memory heals the gaps in your self-understanding, helping you come out the rounder for it. And thank them.

I suppose the village starts immediately outside your family home door: your neighbours. I grew up in a city, in flats, and so we literally shared the building with other people. If we could not be looked after by our family, they would open their doors. Most are now gone, which makes it more poignant when I go back yet cannot visit. They were generous, for simple neighbourly reasons. I want to be like them.

Second down the timeline are the people at school, both teachers and classmates. From the first I learned to be inspired, and to try to inspire and love - I know most children ignore it, but looking back, that is what I really learned if not what I was intentionally taught. From the second group, I learned the skills to play within society, what can hurt and what can heal you when you feel hurt. My earliest teachers are all retired, and my classmates are all scattered. Their help has spread, and they were hopefully helped by my presence in their life, in turn.

Then we expand to outside rings: independent friends, sportsmates, workmates... They are extended exercises in our initial social skills - a true gift, each and every one of them. Their most perfected element will be our lovers/partners/... Whether you have one life-long partner, a string of them, or a cluster of relationships, each one is so private and demanding, you will need all possible skills to cherish them. It is the chance to give in spades.

And last, but not least, are all the people who help us in other ways: doctors who help us be healthier; the shop assistants who aid us when we require something; the civil servants who work in the shadows so our paperwork gets done (even if we all complain about them); the bus drivers who suffer the jams while we read and groan... Look out and count in a day how many people make your life easier. Amazing.

It takes more than a simple village: it takes the world.

Living, first hand

I have come to realise of late that there are three ways to live life: first hand, second hand, and third hand.

First-hand life is the one where you make your own choices, inform and reason them. You take full responsibility, and also full enjoyment for it. And, amazingly enough, it is not the most common style, but the least. At the summit, the pyramid is sparsely populated. Among first-hand-life examples we encounter people who are genii or fools, but invariably outside the norm and oftentimes widely (and wildly) admired: Buddha, Einstein, Elizabeth I, Mozart, Hitler... Yes, they can be wonderful people, or monsters, but they live on their own terms.

Second-hand life is the one where you live life through, often unconscious, imitation and admiration of others. It is a "repeated" life, in a way. You still take responsibility, but it is all partial. It is the kind of life one would have when dedicated to please others, maybe parents or friends, so they feel comfortable with you, so they take pride in you. You might live a little "unconventionally" and turn to the hippy, bohemian, voluntary, whatever life. But still, your life is heavily dependent on society as a whole, and your circle as a part.

Finally, third-hand life is the one where you simply try to be like someone else, at times fully aware of it. It became most obvious in the fan phenomenon, where the followers copied the styles / speech /... of their idols. Imagine the fashions after Elvis or the Beetles,  to present a clear example. I understand it, as it shows an aspiration to living first-hand (the idols). That tendency has grown now, however, and it has become more widespread and (I admit it, I am elitist in this respect) horribly worrisome. The trend will nowadays also create idols out of "celebs" of little import and usually less enlightening value; or of the lifestyles of famous people, so the admiration is shifted to the (often) mindless waste of some rich characters, away from the achievements of those in the humane areas.

How you live your life will determine the world you leave behind.

Thank you because I love you

I used to think that 'I love you' was the most powerful thing you could say. I amend that. I think 'I love you' may be the most beautiful thing you want to hear, but 'Thank you' is the strongest message you can give. In fact, I have come to understand the latter as an added-on form of the former. Please, let me explain.

Telling someone you love them is a marvelous thing. It is marvelous because it gives to both the teller and the listener. The one who says it does so from a warm, constructive feeling of communion, care, affinity, and generosity. When you get to the point where it must be said, it is because all your realities (physical, psychological and spiritual) have recognised the Joy of that other one's presence in your Life - and the other can be a person, an animal, a plant, an entity... you name it. Saying it; actually forming the words in your mind, with any part of your body, grants you the Joy of becoming aware of that instinctual recognition. Amazing! In fact, even if you mean it only "slightly", it will start working to become true, as your mind, body and spirit look to strengthen the beauty it promises.

At the same time, the one who receives the 'I love you' is filled with instant cheer. It is delightful, knowing that you are loved, and all that it implies. All our realities become harmonious and the world expands in Joy all around, so much enriching energy is released. Moreover, if someone loves us, we believe we must have done something to deserve it.  The problem is that we have, in fact, been taught that love is a currency - we believe it is a reward for "good behaviour". It brings instant validation, in a way.

But, isn't that the role of being told "Thank you"? When we do something well, when when do something thoughtfully, THAT is what should follow. But we are forgetting it... Being able to show gratitude is an empowering state - we have been the centre of another's (person, Universe, animal, or whatever) best intentions. Now, because they have made us a lovely cup of steaming coffee so we didn't have to. Now, because they have smiled and cheered us up. Now, because they have let us go through first, although they might also be in a hurry... Even perfect strangers show us thoughtful recognition, and we are robbed of the thrill of deserving so much care! We tell each other - mostly to a limited circle of people, though - generally about love, and forget offering individual appreciation for the individual instance of goodness. Through lack of recognition, we have altered the reception of Love into the need for Gratitude. And we cheat ourselves of at least one of their thrilling, giving, fabulous natures. 'Thank you' has become the strongest, as it is the least common.

I propose a campaign for each of us: to be Mindful of our words, and say 'I love you' when it is free and true; and say 'Thank you' when we want to accept and validate another's generosity. Regain the Joy in both and either one, independently, so when you express them they re-acquire all their splendour. Make a gift of them, for no reason at all, because they are a Gift when you receive them, when you can offer them.

And I thank you, because you are there for me to love, and that makes me grateful. And I love you, without a because.

It's the small things

There is a bee "nosing around" my living room. Maybe I should be scared...  But why? After all, poor thing, it is much smaller than I am, and if it were to defend itself (i.e. sting me) it would die. Why, then, are tiny bees so scary? Because they are tiny.

It is the small things that have the greatest power, after all. It is the atom that can form or destroy (if unbalanced) our world; it is a baby (two half-cells to begin with) that holds all human potential, and that sends its parents panicking with a small cough; it is a smile, not a laugh, that conveys most meanings... It is the small things. Most great events (not necessarily good, just resonant in some fashion) started with apparently dismissable triggers: a regional-national assassination got the 1st World War going; amino-acid aleatory blending fused life as DNA; modern physics tell a tale of an apple, hydraulics that of a bathtub in Greece, and religion of a tree and a bite of fruit; a degree or two in temperature change is responsible for millions of gallons of rising sea waters world-wide...

As a species, we have learned to be weary of "the small things" because we don't know what they might bring in their wake. But we are off-key there. After all, a mountain is made up of dust, all the Universe is, in fact.

'I love you' takes a pair of seconds to say, an instant to hear, and hopefully a lifetime to completely explore. That sounds rather worth being brave for a "little thing", in my book. Make sure to fill your life with the small things, so scary but so potentially wondrous. Thus, if you don't hear the words, say them; smile the smile; take a step, then dance, dance, dance...

It's the small things that bring greatest Joy.