Contentment means you are not distracted by the things outside of your arc of vision.
You do not see possibilities in your life until you want, need or desire them; until then you are blind.
Oblivion is always replaced by a spectrum of opportunities the moment your eyes are opened.
When you look at someone you may see all of yourself reflected in their eyes.
When you look at someone you may feel all your weaknesses perfectly matched by their strength.
When you look at someone you may start to understand your journeys.
When you look at someone you may see happiness and desire.
When you look at someone you may recognise your need.
When you look at someone you may see with your heart.
When you look at someone you may really hear their story.
When you look at someone you may see the beginning to the end of the mystery.
When you look at someone you may know what keeps you looking.
When you look at someone you may see more than love.
Well it’s officially British Summer Time (BST) - we moved the clocks forward last week. And accordingly people in the neighbourhood have broken out their shorts (without checking the size from last year still fits comfortably), their sandals – or crocs (without bothering to moisturise their feet) and their short sleeve tops (without any thought to co-ordination of colours with the aforementioned shorts or footwear).
The sunglasses (mine included) have been out for a few weeks now, but since the official winter knell has been sounded we have all been subjected to an increased visibility of more pale and un-shapely bodily parts than you see on an oven ready chicken; it’s not natural or pleasing to the visual taste buds.
I think I may have to stay inside until the sun has worked its magic on the skin tone of the nation ... or they decide to buy copious bottles of moisturiser, because invariably the first few weeks of BST have a history of making me dry heave.
BST! Who wants it? Not me. I’d prefer to see (and feel) lots of hot sun then I really know that summer has arrived.
I think someone ought to inform Her Majesty’s Government that the summer does not start and end when they dictate it ... unfortunately for them the days of the empire are over and the sun independently rises and sets (and selects its own temperature dial).
Now, where did I put my jacket?
... Or should I be a good Brit and follow the local customs?
Hmmm.
Here’s a perfectly random question. Why don’t more boys have fringes? And what is the purpose of a fringe? But wait, let me explain why I’m asking it.
I was sat observing a group of boys and girls, they looked pretty similar as they were dressed in a uniform of black trousers and white shirt or blouse. Then I took to looking at their hairstyles while we all waited for a scheduled event to begin.
The girls’ hair was an array of colour, twists, plaits, flicks and lots and lots of fringes. The fringes were so varied: some were the traditional straight down cut just above the eyebrow type of fringe, others were off-centre parting swept behind the opposite ear style and still others defy description. Suffice it to say they fell in the broad category of fringe.
Here is a dictionary definition of a fringe: a border of hair that is cut short and hangs across the forehead.
Then I glanced at a boy. He was walking away from the stage and I saw that he had a short back and sides haircut that looked very smart, then he turned back and he had curtains of hair across his eyes at fascinating geometrical angles that seemed to defy gravity without the use of gel. I was awe struck. He was beautiful, the style suited him. As this vision of intrigue moved before me I saw yet another candidate that sought to defy the dictionary definition of a fringe. The boy wearing it had relatively short hair on one side but, in a variation on the traditional comb-over, he manipulated his luscious ebony locks from behind his left ear to just over his right eyebrow in a forty-five degree angle taper.
It was at this point that I began to question why I hadn’t noticed the lack of fringed boys before. The way these two boys created and styles their hair was just magnificent. They swaggered with style. They were confident and ebullient in every movement.
Switching back to the fringed girls I noticed that they all appeared to bend forwards rather than throw their heads back in the self-assured manner of the boys. My brief (unscientific) observation led me to conclude that boys with fringes are more extroverted while girls similarly adorned appear more reserved. The un-fringed girls behaved more like the fringed boys.
So, the result of this social questioning is another set of questions: why do girls use fringes to hide themselves and why are fringed boys like peacocks?
I have worn glasses since I was a teenager. I didn’t have any choice in what they looked like until I started full-time working at the age of seventeen. Then given the freedom I began to follow the fashion of the day – whatever it was, you see I wanted to fit in. I took advice and I tried to go my own way too. I bought brightly coloured large framed glasses, dark frames, small frames, I was guided by that invisible (but over powering) hand of ‘common fashion’. The style of the masses was appealing as I desperately wanted to fit in.
It wasn’t until my third decade of life that I really knew and accepted my own true identity and style. And then things changed in all areas.
My vision changed completely.
Looking at my range of eyewear – from prescription glasses to sunglasses, I realised how important it is to see and be seen. The way I’m seen is a part of my choice of how I display my identity from my hair to my footwear.
My glasses (or contact lenses) are an intricate part of how I want things to appear to me and how I want to appear to all onlookers.
Sometime I see how I could be seen. I am happy with my vision.
2007 July home
April 2010
Two men sat crossed-legged at the side of a road. The younger man looked up, he felt confusion building in him between what he was seeing, what he had learnt and what he felt in his heart, he quickly decided to interrupt the man sat beside him. He had seen a group of tired looking strangers approaching in the distance, so the younger one turned to his wiser elder and asked a series of questions.
‘Master, what type of men are these? How should I treat them? They look different. Is it our responsibility to be hospitable to all strangers or just those we feel comfortable with?’
The elder raised his head – for he had been meditating quietly, then he peered into the distance for a few minutes to observe the people walking towards them, then turned and said ...
‘They are Jamaicans; you know what they’re like.’
or
‘They are white. I know they are dangerous people.’
or
‘They are poor. Not our type at all.’
or
‘They are conservatives. They’ll do anything.’
or
‘They are untouchables. Keep away from them’
or
‘They are Christians. Hypocritical do-gooders – steer clear.’
or
‘They are working class. Don’t mix with them.’
or
‘They are Scottish. They are mean.’
or
‘They are Asian. Not our sort. So competitive.’
When the thirsty and tired group reached the two men they were met with silence. After a brief time, the group sighed and passed by. Their steps seemed heavier as they walked away. The two seated men left their silent meditation after a minute to look along the road at the fading shapes. The younger one shifted uncomfortably on his seat that also doubled as a well cover. But reasoned he had to listen to the ancient wisdom of his elder.
“Owe no man anything, but to love one another.” Romans 13 v 8
Love does not see difference, love sees similarities: love sees love.
Merry Christmas!
Reflection is a good thing. Looking back has its benefits, however, we must be careful of spending so much time looking backwards that we miss the good that is in our present and the openings to a better future. With our hearts and minds constantly cast over our shoulders we can stumble past a bright opportunity to happiness in our future.
