Past Tense

Past Tense

One of the strange things about getting older is the sense you live in almost a parallel universe your brain is triggered by some past experience or incident and you end up being taken back to a time long ago when the world was a different and so were you. A smell, picture or specially a piece of music propels you back to what was and the pictures of that past is really vivid.

Out on a fishing trip the other day with a friend we went past an old caravan park that I stayed at with family and friend and the vivid memories of those times and a girl flashed through my brain like it was yesterday. The pictures seemed real even the names were there which is strange as I think  long term memory mainly deals in pictures. The brain doctors these picture for sure but they are still  vivid. I commented to Steve my fishing partner on what had transpired those many years ago and . had a laugh and some fun at my expense. This is another pleasure of past tense  reliving and reminiscing on times long gone. Deriving pleasure not regret from the memories.

My dog Bogie (Pictured) was seventeen, when he died not long ago he was mostly deaf and half blind but he still managed to get around if but slowly. Many the time now I look for him as I pass his favourite spot, reach out for him as I get up from my chair, or make sure I do not trip over him as I get out of bed but I am only tripping over shadows. I remember what he was the way he used to run, jump catch birds in the air, chase rabbits, possums any thing that moved. But the memories of him are strong the pictures like a slide show of the times we ran and played in younger fields.

I look at my beautiful wife Maureen (43 years married) and I cannot help being swept back by the tide of events we have experienced together. Whether it be young love in Bendigo, lay missionary, Army, business days, family raising, travelling, sad times, deaths, marriages, birth, tragedy, triumphs, its amazing what we have done in a busy life.  But what is equally amazing is the brains ability to remember it and to bring it back at the most odd times; the taste of a wine, the odd remark, the look, the gesture, the quiet need of contemplation, the touch, the smell of a flower, or the scent of a perfume can start of a cascade of memories.

My four daughters and nine grand children evoke powerful reminisces as they grapple with life's issues and struggles. It is an easy remark to say that "history repeats itself" but in a lot of ways it does and the movie of the mind brings it back to sit beside what they are experiencing. This is a wonderful and sometimes frightening thing. Hopefully I can use it as a beneficial tool and not a judgemental one.

Yes life is strange but the mind is so much more. It is incredible really that billions of synapses working together can bring you back and paint a picture that is so real. (Not to say the picture is real the brain may trick you) even sounds smells and emotion are bought back in a cascade of memory that can make you cry, smile or wonder. Incredible really.

In these so called twilight years let us hope that I am set on making more memories not just dwelling on the past ones. But at the same time using them to shape a future for those who are close or need a hand or for those facing an uncertain future. I hope my past will shape a better future and the memory of them create pathways that are straighter because of them.

John Condliffe

Grief

Grief is like a tidal wave it knock you over and dumps you somewhere where you do not want to be. You find yourself standing in the midst of carnage and despair looking around for someone to hold onto , someone to hold you , someone to cry with, someone to be with, and all the while the after waves keep slamming into you overwhelming you with showers of what was, what could have been, and what is.

The awful reality of losing some body is not new to me and to a lot of people, some have more than their share of losing for some reason that has alluded me forever. In your reality from the lonely recesses of your being the sudden unexpected loss’s keeps reappearing into the consciousness of your day awakening feelings of frustration, anger, longing, despair, loneliness and heartache that sometimes is almost too much to bear.

Matt’s answering service features his friendly country laconic mocking refrain that his service was called Five Trees and he was “The Arborist to the Stars”. It tells you many things about the Matt we knew; his wit, humour and laconic style that attracted you too him no matter the situation. It also indicated the greatest love of his life his family and especially his five children (Five Trees) and the pride he took in his work. To see him harnessing and climbing among the branches and the limbs was to certainly see someone who was the star, not working for them.

Matt the volunteer fireman was a different person again, he loved the CFA, unit, and his mates and especially Tylden Fire Brigade where he rose to the rank of Captain at a very young age. We had the privilege to see him work/captain multiple units one dark night in Kyneton as they fought a shop fire, saving the street and other business’s there. This Captain of the CFA was another being at another level that few of us ever reach, the culmination of years of dedication, training and love of the job. Perhaps at a later stage this dedication wounded him in some mysterious way that we will never understand but as he stood and fought amongst the chaos and wreckage of  Good Friday and other fires experiencing the horrors of something beyond comprehension what scars did he sustain that are beyond our limits of reasoning?

I remember Matt the young gawky kid who came to our house (With the hat on) courting his beloved Angela and saving both of them from a lesser life. They shared many blessings in their time together including their children. Through most of it they had a fierce and passionate love, uncompromising in its intensity and unequalled by its impact. They were indeed fortunate for many years to have this, few are granted such a gift.

I remember Matt and Angy moving into their house in Tylden and the look of pure joy and contentment as they carried in not only the furniture but also the future…

I remember the incomprehension and sheer disbelief on his face as he was told Angy was having twins, and then that smile that incredible smile…as he held them for the first time...

I remember many times, many things as do you but they are for some other time some some other telling…

The mark of a man is not the medallions on his chest, the certificates on his wall… no they are the people who loved him and respected him and these are as the stars themselves for Matt.

Love You Matt

John

Josef's Letter

Josef's Letter

My Grandparents are the kindest people I have ever met in my life. My Grandma lets me go swimming every time we visit and every time I always enjoy it especially when grandma is there. Grandma lets us watch television at night and cooks the best macaroni and cheese for dinner and lets us have delicious tarts for dessert. My Grandma buys puzzles to solve. Since we are puzzle lovers we finish the in a day or a half.

Grandpa is the funniest relative I have. He teaches us how to play guitar every Wednesday, to teach us to play "Smoke on the Water". Now I can play it really fast. On cold Wednesday nights (when we visit) Grandpa starts a fire on cold nights to stare at or read in front of it.

At the bottom of my heart I will always love them even when my days are over no matter how much the sun burns on my heart. No matter what happens I will always love them.


A letter written at school by my grandson Josef aged ten. Thanks mate Love you Too!

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Writers Block

Ok I have it writers block!  I haven't written here for well over a month. Which indicates a kind of greyness or depression of the imagination. Writing is like an over flow of imaginations stream breaking out into new fields but when the stream is dry well there is nothing but cracked baking mud and a choking dust blocking all endeavour.

It is frustrating to just sit and nothing comes to mind there are no devils to fight , no ideas to wrestle and sweat on, no great cause to latch onto and joust at. Its just grey outside and in, nothing but the monotony of a modern world which provides comfort but no challenge, and contrived competition but no real heart beating scenarios.

But that is to blame the world when the world as it exists is only real because I make it so, only relevant because I am and only significant because I am a part of it. In other words the problem if their is one lies very close indeed.

So let us strive to engage and engage until it comes because the writing "muscle" like all muscles has to be exercised other wise it atrophies into nothingness. And maybe nothingness is like the lower point of a diving board before it spring upwards. Let us hope so.

Sabastian Junger in the Tribe

encapsulates the dilemma of modern man as he struggles in the comforts of "civilisation" to create that something which enable him to fully live and be free. The dilemma and attraction of a life lived to the full and engaged with and in a community of his fellow man despite taking on terrible risks! But which in the end seems the only life worth living!

 

Maybe this is the  reality of a writers block or a depression of the soul the aching isolation of modern life surrounded as we are by numbing prosperity and the sterility of "progress".

 

OK well I have got that of my chest, a rambling word play-but I did write something!

Judith Woods# OK for women# to be sexist#

Judith Woods writes (see below) a creditable piece on Theresa May in last weeks Age
But even

she serious as she is cannot get over the "thing" about women! She has to comment on her elegance and how she will fill out a fashion piece.

It is interesting that there have been several items on Theresa May most of which take a serious view but also most of which fall into the trap of describing or hinting at her femininity. It is a s though we are hard wire to do this. Even trained professional hard headed journalists fall into this "trap"  is it a trap or just the way we are?

Either way it is an interesting point as our experience in Australia  with the treatment of Ex Prime Minister Julia Gillard  leaves one a little uncomfortable with the treatment of women politicians and personalities. That it is often professional women commentators and peers that seem to be leading this charge  is an interesting angle indeed.

Should we worry or are we reading to much into this? Perhaps, but it is an insight into how we categorise and catalogue people on their appearance, age, dress, ethnicity, occupation but above all on their sex.

I have covered this in my Book "Daughters" and in other blogs but it is still endlessly fascinating. Is it Natural or Social induced?      Is it both?

May will stand tall on world stage

July 12 2016 The Age Newspaper

• Judith Woods

Last Friday I met prime minister-in-waiting Theresa May for the first time. Way back then she was front-runner in the newly declared two-horse race for the prime ministership against rank outsider Andrea Leadsom.
As we sat for a mostly serious chat – all interactions with May are mostly serious – I looked her in the eye and asked her outright if she had always dreamt of leading the country. "I don't think of myself in that way," she said. "I certainly don't think anybody can be the new Margaret Thatcher; she was absolutely unique. I just get on with the job at hand and do it to the very best of my ability. That's what I have always done."

Theresa May: star example. Photo: PA

And, you know, I believed her. I still do.
I suspect – as with a great many successful women who never quite climb as high as they should – she has always held dear to the middle-class mantra (myth) that diligence and assiduousness will be noticed and rewarded.
And finally, aged 59, the field has been cleared for this grammar schoolgirl. Was that a cheer going up in the shires? Knowing May, she will probably mark the occasion by cracking open a celebratory ministerial red box or two. And really enjoy it.
She's been (now famously) described as a "bloody difficult woman", but "bloody serious woman" might have been nearer the mark. Unlike Mrs Thatcher, who could do an effective line in feminine guile and flirtatiousness when she needed to, May does not use her gender to charm. Ever.

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I'm not sure she's even capable of it. She uses well-formulated argument instead, which I can imagine rather ruffles the feathers of Westminster's strutting peacocks.
Tall, slender and well groomed, we can expect British designers to queue up to dress May. And quite rightly so, as showcasing creativity will be all part of the job. Although she possesses an innate elegance, self-consciousness about her height (168 centimetres) has led to a habit of bending slightly so as not to discomfit those around her.
However, when she becomes our prime minister, there's no question of her stooping to conquer. I think she will make for a striking figure on the world stage and if she stands head and shoulders above other leaders that will be very much their problem, not hers.
When she walks into a room she has bearing and presence; a smile too, but one underpinned with purpose. "The PM role involves more meetings with leaders and building relationships," she said. "But I've done that with the various interior ministers, because (as Home Secretary) there's often a great amount of negotiation involved."
May, of course, was a Remainer, although not a terribly outspoken one. There are those who continue to feel concerned that a Leaver would be better placed to win Britain the best deal. They are wrong.
May made it clear to me that she intends to unite party and country, while disuniting Europe. Brexit may not have been her choice, but she will get the job done. We live in serious times and that demands a serious politician. May the Force be With Us.
Daily Telegraph, London

 

 

Are you an Echo ???

Are you an Echo or been hurt by the fatal attraction of a NPD??????

 

Echo oh Echo how I cry for you and feel your pain through the ages you have been tormented and hurt beyond imagination...our petty hurts and frustrations are as nothing as to what you have borne....

 

In Greek mythology Echo was a wood nymph who loved a youth by the name of Narcissus. He was a beautiful creature loved by many but Narcissus loved no one. He enjoyed attention, praise and envy. In Narcissus' eyes nobody matched him and as such he considered none were worthy of him.

Echo's passion for Narcissus was equaled only by her passion for talking as she always had to have the last word. One day she enabled the escape of the goddess Juno's adulterous husband by engaging Juno in conversation. On finding out Echo's treachery Juno cursed Echo by removing her voice with the exception that she could only speak that which was spoken to her.

 

 

 

Echo often waited in the woods to see Narcissus hoping for a chance to be noticed. One day as she lingered in the bushes he heard her footsteps and called out “Who's here?” Echo replied “Here!” Narcissus called again "Come", Echo replied "Come!". Narcissus called once more “Why do you shun me?... Let us join one another.” Echo was overjoyed that Narcissus had asked her to join him. She longed to tell him who she was and of all the love she had for him in her heart but she could not speak. She ran towards him and threw herself upon him.

 

Narcissus became angry “Hands off! I would rather die than you should have me!” and threw Echo to the ground. Echo left the woods a ruin, her heart broken. Ashamed she ran away to live in the mountains yearning for a love that would never be returned. The grief killed her. Her body became one with the mountain stone. All that remained was her voice which replied in kind when others spoke.

 

Narcissus continued to attract many nymphs all of whom he briefly entertained before scorning and refusing them. The gods grew tired of his behaviour and cursed Narcissus. They wanted him to know what it felt like to love and never be loved. They made it so there was only one whom he would love, someone who was not real and could never love him back.

 

One day whilst out enjoying the sunshine Narcissus came upon a pool of water. As he gazed into it he caught a glimpse of what he thought was a beautiful water spirit. He did not recognise his own reflection and was immediately enamoured. Narcissus bent down his head to kiss the vision. As he did so the reflection mimicked his actions. Taking this as a sign of reciprocation Narcissus reached into the pool to draw the water spirit to him. The water displaced and the vision was gone. He panicked, where had his love gone? When the water became calm the water spirit returned. “Why, beautiful being, do you shun me? Surely my face is not one to repel you. The nymphs love me, and you yourself look not indifferent upon me. When I stretch forth my arms you do the same; and you smile upon me and answer my beckonings with the like.” Again he reached out and again his love disappeared. Frightened to touch the water Narcissus lay still by the pool gazing in to the eyes of his vision.

 

He cried in frustration. As he did so Echo also cried. He did not move, he did not eat or drink, he only suffered. As he pined he became gaunt loosing his beauty. The nymphs that loved him pleaded with him to come away from the pool. As they did so Echo also pleaded with him. He was transfixed; he wanted to stay there forever. Narcissus like Echo died with grief. His body disappeared and where his body once lay a flower grew in it's place. The nymphs mourned his death and as they mourned Echo also mourned.

* * * * * * * *

 

The story of Echo and Narcissus is used as a warning to those who love someone that can not love them back and is often used as a basis for understanding the implications of a condition known as Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD). It is also used in reference to Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD).

Extracts taken from the "The Age of Fable" written by THOMAS BULFINCH were used in the story above.

Take Care of those you Love , but remember that what seems reality is often not so...

Even Mad Dogs Take Care of Their Own Children

Even Mad Dogs Take Care of Their Own Children

 

 

It is one of my favourite sayings; what does it mean?

It means to me that I have to look beyond my own self-interest my own hurts, failings and imaginings and see the situation and then react accordingly not because it might benefit me, or because I do not like that person, or I do not like that situation, or it might cost me in some way, but because it is the right thing to do.

Mad dogs will take care of their children just as sane or good dogs do. That is what they do! But they do it because it is instinctive and is in their self-interest. They will kill anything else that moves.

When this is principle is applied to people it means people who do the right thing not because they have to but because they want to! This is how you can tell a person’s character, not from what they are doing but from why they are doing it!

I am trying not to be sanctimonious here because I have failed many, many times but if we cannot apply some principles or logic to our lives then we become as the Mad Dog IS. As they say   “It's a dog eat dog world”   But it does not have to be!

The widow, the poor, the unfortunate, the disabled, the unloved, the unfashionable, are all deserving of our love and help not because we have to but because we want to.

 

Let us try otherwise the Mad Dogs will truly rule the World.