Creeping imagination

Have you ever had that feeling that something you dislike has touched you without you knowing? I mean, for example, a spider is crawling on your arm. Then you do those jerky movements that look like a parent’s bad dance at a wedding. You know those times, don’t you?

I just did.

The recent high winds and the neighbours cats have caused severe damage to one of the fence panels in my garden (well, this one more than the rest) and it looked like the Costa Concordia as it listed away from the other upright panels. Other neighbours, houses away from mine, have stopped me in the street and mentioned that they saw it falling over it, so I knew it was time to remove it.

Hatted and gloved against the weather I went forth into the garden.

The rotting wood fell easily away from the attached posts. I thought then this was going to be easier than I had imagined and wondered why I had delayed removing this eyesore for so long. As I leant forwards to lift some of the broken pieces of wood I felt something touch my back.

It was a light touch, and it instantly unnerved me because I was wearing several layers of clothing.

I dropped the broken panels to the ground and jumped backwards. That’s when the dancing started. My arms were making strange geometrical shapes with my body as I struggled to release the foreign object from near my skin. I could feel it moving down my back. It was all I could do not to scream out.

As I jerked frantically I felt something move lower down my back I flung off the gardening gloves and reached for it. With disgust I threw a small dark object to the ground. It was a spider! I knew it was, wasn’t it? I peered at the ground but the pebbles disguised it, but I was right, wasn’t I? I felt my skin crawl as I continued to fan my clothing away from my body to let any other creepy crawlies loose.

What I did next surprised me.

I shook my clothes one more time then retrieved the gloves and continued to clear the broken wood away from the edges of the garden. Once they were in a neat pile I walked swiftly to the kitchen door.

Then, it started again; that creepy feeling that something unbidden was touching me. This time I didn’t feel anything new I saw a spider (yes, a real one) on the doorstep. I flicked it off, back into the garden, and as I touched it it curled up into a ball. That was it! I was convinced that what had touched me earlier was really a spider. I lost all reserve and flew through the door.

I ascended the steps rather quickly and in moments I was in the bathroom and stripping off my clothes. As I did so I shook each item – away from me – to see what was in there. I checked my back in the mirror and, thankfully, nothing was there. As I turned my clothing back inside out something fell to the floor. I jumped back convinced it was a spider. It lay there in a dark ball, not moving.

I didn’t want to move first but I had to move before it did, so I backed up, all the time keeping my eyes on that spot, and reached for some toilet tissue. As I approached it again I tried to identify it. Was it really just a dried up berry or was it a disguised spider. With my exposed skin tightening in fear I enclosed the ball with the tissue. It did not move. I gingerly picked it up and found out that it was a berry.

Now, that should have calmed all my fears, yet it didn’t.

I was still using my hand to brush invisible spiders from my back. My imagination had created a colony of them crawling all over me and the evidence of the berry as it lay in the tissue did not convince me that there hadn’t already been at least one of them crawling on me.

You know those times, don’t you?

You don’t?

Oh, it’s just me then ...

Emotional sponge

How do I explain that there are moments when I feel like other people’s emotions are dripping into my very soul? I have this experience too frequently for my own comfort and it’s at times like these that I have the sensation of almost drowning by emotional osmosis.

Being – what some would term – sensitive does mean that I have become finely tuned to pick up mood changes. Some days ago, when I sensed a downward shift within the group I was with, I did the visual checks, they confirmed what the alteration in the tone of voice had already told me, and so I asked if everything was OK. Although I was assured it was fine this was not the entire story. So, over the next few hours the weight of unspoken feelings began to drag me under until I was struggling to stay positive... and the negativity did not even stem from me!

I guess I am an emotional sponge.

But frequently I wish I wasn’t because when these negative emotions flood my body it takes me a long time to regain my own equilibrium.

Luckily I have many good reasons to stay positive and so it was on that day. I took myself away from the negativity, I mean I physically removed myself to a quiet space and then I could focus on my positives not their negatives: it worked.

Wrung free of sapping emotions I filled myself up with my own feelings and after regaining that balance I was able to return to the fray – so to speak – and with a little time, and with some gentle persuasion I managed to encourage Mr. Negative to open up and talk freely about his feelings.

It wasn’t all roses by the end of our conversation – that’s not this reality, but Mr N. did start to share why he had become moody suddenly. With some clarity gained we went our separate ways and by the next meeting everything was on the up again.

It seems like I shared some of my positivity that replaced his negative feelings. Therefore it wasn’t such a bad experience after all as it seems I learnt that this emotional sponge works both ways.

Everybody is Somebody

I found this print in a dusty box at the back of a shop some decades ago. I have carried it with me – in my heart and on my walls – ever since I first saw it. At the moment it is hung besides the mirror in my hallway. I see it each time I leave and return to the house.

I was captivated from the moment I saw it. As the intrigue filled me I decided to discover who the man in the photograph was. After many, many hours of searching I was led to facts that stated this was a Gullah man in America, who had been taken from Africa. The picture told me that despite his difficult existence he still retained pride and belief in himself – that he was indeed Somebody.

This picture is a reminder, lest I forget.

Everybody you meet really is somebody - and there is something special about them.

Each person has dreams, loves, wants, desires, dislikes, regrets, sorrows, and joys. Each person also has their own imperfections; we all make mistakes, we say and do the wrong things sometimes. That is part of our unique being. Even then, we are still somebody.

Some things about a person we will never understand, even when we have known them for years. Other things we do not need to know.

One thing I always try do is to show respect to each person and what they say because they are ... Somebody. Everybody is. Including me.

Greatest desires and greatest fears

If my greatest desire is to be known, why do I find myself hiding from those who want to know me?

I am lying to myself if I continue to hide – I don’t really want to be known.

If my greatest desire is to find a purpose in life, why don’t I start the search?

I am insincere about my desires if I do not begin to follow them.

If my greatest desire is to find someone to love me and understand me for who I am, why do I hold back from sharing who I am and what I think?

I will not get understanding if I don’t share some information about myself and how I work.

If my greatest fear is about being alone, why do I find myself hiding from those who want to know me?

I will fulfil my greatest fear if I continue to hide.

If my greatest fear is never realising my full potential, why do I find myself resisting opportunities to shine?

I will never grow or expand my brilliance if I continually reject the chances I encounter.

If my greatest fear is failure, is that why I never get started?

I will never know success or failure if I don’t try. I will never learn that failure is a growth and learning opportunity.

Sometimes I think that my greatest desire is ... desire and my greatest fear ... is fear.

Paradoxical? Possibly, but also true.

We all often desire things and are fearful that those desires will be fulfilled because ... what will we do then? Start to desire something else? And never reach a state of satisfaction?

Maybe we are comfortable with the concept of desire as an abstract theory not an actual reality. Therefore we desire desire and fear fear thus keeping them both at a safe distance from impacting on our lives.

At the same time we get a taste of fulfilment from the desire and a keen sense of the fear also keeps us alert.

Obtaining the things we desire can give us a sense of being out of control. By denying self we may believe we have desire controlled. Desire makes us feel helpless.

I think that because we fear losing our comfortable unfulfilled states of desire we never fully embrace the brilliant reality of having the desire satisfied. We become static.

We remain in self-fulfilling prophecies of continual unsatisfied desire and perpetual foreboding fear.

I am moving out of Static City ...

I’m leaving fear behind and moving on into desire. It feels good.

Identity - whose business is it?

I am different. I am not unusual in being different. We are all different in some way or another. But we also have many similarities that bind us together.

It is not difficult to find our similarities but somehow, in these harsh times, it seems that it is so much easier to recognise somebody’s difference and to highlight that instead of their similarities.

This is now a regular means of sharing information about someone: to focus on their differences – in a negative way. I don’t think that it is a good way to get to know people. All this does is to create and enforce divisions and it make difference become perceived as a harmful thing.

I think there is a better way to be both different and to get to know people.

I like being different. I like getting to know people. I like people (although I am often overtaken by intense episodes of shyness that can leave me a stuttering blubbering incoherent wreck – and then nobody would believe, especially not me, that I am a people’s person!). Generally I can talk and mix with people fairly well.

It is very unusual for me to take an instant dislike to someone. I can’t even remember it happening at all, although I do remember feeling uncomfortable around some people, but that is invariably for a reason other than what they look like; it will have everything to do with their character and personality and nothing to do with their appearance. I am aware that some people look at others and because of obvious physical differences they are singled out for special consideration – usually negative; this attention is frequently described as ‘good natured ribbing’. I would disagree; I’d compare it to the Roman practice of putting gladiators and animals into vast arenas and then calling it entertainment as they destroyed each other. I am glad that I am not in the section of society that uses other people as sport.

By this I mean that some groups of people will select other groups of people to ridicule. They spend their time making up names and highlighting real or perceived differences. Then they begin their attack.

The vocal group will often say that saying things like carrot-top, ginger-nut, fatty, or gay is just good humoured banter. I think that maybe it is a bit deeper than that. I think that the perception of what is ‘normal’ is so ingrained in the psyches of people – from a very young age – that even at primary schools the way people cope with things they don’t understand or accept is to make fun of them.

My son tells me that for the past four years at least, in primary and also in secondary school, the insult of choice has had “gay” associated with it. Anybody or anything perceived as wrong or bad is berated with “You’re so gay!” or “That’s so gay!”

Why do people make fun of others? Is there a weakness in their own identity or does the malice arise from somewhere else? Society would be less interesting without some variety in both personality and appearance. We could live in a robot-like environment where similarities are manufactured into each member of society. Thankfully, we don’t yet live like that, but our current heterogeneous society is still frowned on by those who don’t like difference. They start to make jokes and use their ‘humour’ to position themselves as better than the group they are pursuing.

The verbal bullies often target those they believe have low self-esteem. When people with a health level of self esteem are attacked by words they normally ignore the perpetrator or they correct them without feeling victimised. But it is not often that there is face to face, one on one, contact. I feel bullies are the ones with the weak self esteem because they invariably move around in packs and often carry out their attacks anonymously using violence and graffiti in public and private places.

This is their way to cope with what they don’t understand. I’ve always found that when I lack knowledge on some matter, the best way to progress is to find out more. This usually works for me. It may sound simple, but often the simplest things are the most effective. I’ll ask, I search, I’ll read, I’ll look, I’ll listen and I will learn. Then, when I have a kernel of knowledge, I feel able to engage in some form of communication which opens up the channels for even more learning.

In my observation it seems that when the bullies see something different to themselves then they try to destroy it without any attempt to understand it at all. Bullies like homogeny. Bullies are afraid – especially of difference. Bullies deal in a currency of fear.

Bullies transmit their internalised fear into the open. By their frantic actions of trying to control what they don’t understand all bullies remind me of the 19^th century colonisers: they see difference and then they label it as the ‘other’ (choose whatever negative term you are familiar with) and then they set about, with the use of the powerful machine of propaganda, to neutralise or subdue it in whatever way they can. Just as, in previous times, Africans were demonised, in a similar way in the 2st century, gay people are being castigated; the universal coping mechanism of ridiculing someone in an attempt to isolate and weaken them is still working efficiently in the schools, playground, classrooms, offices and workplaces of today.

I recently read an article that said what people have to remember when name calling commences is that it’s not what you are called that matters the most, it is what you answer to: a point well worth considering I think when one is aware of their own identity.

Sunsets

“People forget you after the first sunset.”

Zarah Ghahramani

The character that said this was full of bleakness and despair. I am full of hope and happiness. And for this reason I wanted to tell you something...

I have not forgotten you, and I will never forget you.

You many never know just how much you mean to me, and that’s all right. It is sufficient for me to know. We have connected. You may or may not remember when or where; that doesn’t matter either. I have enough memory for it all.

You are important to me because you are ... you. It is that simple.

The uniqueness of your being has forever impacted my life. I have changed because I have been blessed with knowing you. Thank you.

In my heart there will never be a closure to our connection; no sun will ever set on my care and regard for you.

I have you in my heart: even through dark times I continue to care; even through the bright times I continue to care. I know that I will never forget you.

I love the beauty of sunsets. They are all individual. They are all special. Sunsets have their place in the journey of each day. Each person has their place in the journey of my life. This is because with every person I meet I have been fortunate enough to receive a unique gift from them; from you I received untold treasures and the freedom to be all of me. Again, I thank you.

Each new day that I have brings a reminder of the wonderful people that I have been fortunate to meet and know.

As time goes by I want you to know that, even when we do not have regular and consistent contact, I remember you in my heart. You are thought of often.

When you love someone you cannot forget about them – no matter where they are.

© Marjorie H Morgan 9/12/10

It made my blood boil.

When something feels right you instinctively know it. When it feels wrong, you know that too. I am getting more adept at listening to my body so I knew something was different a few weeks ago. I listened and watched but I was unable to resolve the problem myself therefore I made an appointment to visit the local GPs surgery. It’s just as well it wasn’t fatal as it took me well over a week to actually get an opening.

My initial thoughts were that it was something to do with my diet and exercise routines.

I am a vegan and I’m happy being a vegan. It really suits me. But there are some drawbacks, as with most choices. Eating out can be a bit of a palaver at times, but I have got the ordering in restaurants down to pat. My friends all know what I can eat as well, so that makes visiting people for food less of a hardship that it used to be. In fact, some friends delight in the opportunity to try new, different recipes. And I love them for it.

I also love cooking for them, and I still enjoy cooking the meat that they like to eat; strange, but true. My food is not necessarily their food. But the right foods are essential for the production of good strong blood. To ensure my own good quality blood I have to take iron tablets occasionally when I become anaemic, and so I also have to have the obligatory blood test to check my haemoglobin levels on a fairly regular basis.

So, this week I went to the doctors to get the answers I didn’t know. And, to my amusement, he told me that he didn’t know either. Nevertheless my amiable Dr. B suggested that I take a few more blood tests to check levels of various things in my body. The nurse, who took the four vials of blood, gave me a concerned look as the first lot of blood left my arm.

It was frothing in the tube.

I asked her why it did that. Hesitatingly she read my face again, then answered, “I guess you must be a bit anxious,” she said, “because your blood is pumping really fast and hitting the bottom of the tube at speed that’s why it looks like that.”

“You noticed,” I responded with my usual dry humour.

I personally think that knowing that Dr B didn’t have any answers to help me right then, and the fact I had to wait, yet again, for another battery of test results, just made my blood boil... and my eyes weep.

Courage - The Cast List

Sometimes we face situations that we do not know how to handle and if we share the problem with others they may give words of advice.

“Remember the story of Moses,” they may say.

“Remember how God led him and delivered the people out of the hand of the Egyptians.”

When courage is in short supply within our bodies we may be tempted to reply, “But I’m not Moses!”

This is true.

We are not the same as many of the heroes of the Bible stories and legends that have been passed down through the ages. The tales of heroism make us feel pride in the achievements of others.

In our very present situations, when we are confronted with a choice that often causes us to fear and want to back away, we sometimes look into the mirror of our souls and know that we are not Moses. We have to remember that although this is true there is still one constant about this miraculous situation. The focus may have altered from Moses to me but the lead character in this tale has remained the same: I am NOT Moses, but God is still God!

When we do our part, God is always there to do His part.

He gives us the courage we need when we step forward in trust.

I am not Moses, I am me and God is still God.

Fear and helplessness

Fear is personal. My fear is not your fear … it may be similar but it’s never quite the same.

Fear is changeable. What makes me afraid on one day may be a walk in the park another day.

Fear is terrifying.

When you love someone you experience a whole new level of fear. Especially if the loved one is in danger – be it real or imagined. This fear is laced with helplessness.

The situation could be an illness. The details could be unknown. That’s enough to awaken the monstrosity of fear. Fear grows with alacrity; it comes from nowhere and is suddenly everywhere.

At times like this you don’t know what to do but you want to do everything and anything.

At times like this all previous personal fears are overshadowed.

No horror film could touch the magnitude that you feel on the scared-scale; it’s off all records.

That person who has elicited this feeling of love in you is in a situation you can’t control and that is like having your hands bound in a straight-jacket, locked underwater in a barrel with a mask on and no air to breathe. Every ounce, gram, centimetre of your being wants to do something but you are incapacitated and totally helpless. The combination of anxiety and powerlessness renders you motionless.

It is at this point that hope takes over.

Hope does not weight anything.

Hope does not have a shape or size.

Hope has the keys to unlock the worry and clear the vision.

Hope enables you to look forward and see a future.

Hope lets you smile when your heart is breaking.

Hope gives you the power to move when your body has given up.

Hope is the strongest muscle in your mind.

Hope reduces fear until it is destroyed.

Hope is the partner of love.

Passion

True passion – for there is no other type of passion – is like an eclipse. The passion controls your attention as everything else fades to the background. Other things are not totally blocked out but, for a while, they are less significant in importance than this new interest.

New passions are always exciting. When a new passion grabs my attention I get swept along on the tidal wave of emotion. I want to immerse myself totally in this new subject, activity, or person. The adrenalin levels peak and most other things in my life become like the corona of the sun. The amount of time invested in an activity is directly related to the intensity of the passion.

Passion does not ever end - if an interest ends then I would suggest that it was just that, an interest, not a passion.

Even after the passing of time, the change of location, the alteration of circumstances, the passion will remain. It may smoulder out of the direct eye line of many, but within the heart of the one who feels it, the passion never dies.

With a familiar passion there are constant reminders of what first ignited that fire of desire. These things can occur at any time, in any place, and they are brilliant assailants. They storm my hidden places and the familiar excitement will make my pulse run faster, make my eyes shine brighter and graft that deep wide smile of satisfaction throughout my whole being.

Passion is beautiful.

Passion is life enhancing.

Passion is passionate.

Embrace passion and enjoy the ride.

“True art, like passion, is equally permanent.”

John Bayley. The Red Hat.