Expectations confounded

Sometimes you get an opportunity to do things but it never turns out quite like you thought it would. You have great expectations and you are disappointed.

And other times when you have few - or no expectations - you are pleasantly surprised, so much so that, again, your expectations are confounded.

Life is full of surprises. How wonderful!

Oblivious

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.

Memory loss

There comes the day when it is evident that people have forgotten you. It could be at Christmas time when you realise that you are no longer receive the regular greeting cards or when you are looking through your address book and a name on a page causes your heart to ache for an unconscious reason.

So what do you do then?

Do you try to jog their memories or do you begin to forget about them as well.

In traumatic situations people often say that they don’t remember what happened; they insist that they do try to remember but they have a complete loss of memory of the event. It is often believed that this is the body’s way of protecting itself.

Although trauma induces automatic recall failure there are times when I think it is important to simulate memory loss – to attain the same healthy result. Then you can move on to the new opportunities that are waiting for you and not be held back by dreams of ‘what if’, ‘maybe’ or ‘perhaps’.

So, the other day I was thinking about ... oh!

Who was that again?

I think I'm forgetting ...

"When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us."

Helen Keller (1880 - 1968)

I dare you!

Many childhood games and experiences are based on the idea of daring. We constantly challenged each other to learn about our limits and to strengthen our connections.

I have a challenge for both me and you today.

I am saying that I don’t dare to let you know me.

Do you dare to get to know me?

Dare you!

If you try, you have succeeded – because at least you tried. If you don’t try then, sorry, but you have failed.

It needs a certain amount of courage to share yourself with others and a similar amount of courage to attempt to know someone. This is not an exercise in foolishness, this is an exercise in joy.

Once again, I dare you, triple dare you!

Spontaneous gifts of happiness

Warning *** This is not a short ‘normal sized’ blog entry *** (for the shortened version please go to this blog at Happy Every Day)

Now, if you have decided to stay the course I will share the events of a short time span in a recent day of my life.


I hope that you will find that reading this will be worth your time. It really was worth my time and effort that day.


Money could never buy the happiness that I felt that day. Strong statement you may say and you many wonder what can have cause this great joy. As the great Adrian Monk would say “Here’s what happened…”


I was returning home from an appointment in town and I was in somewhat of a haste. As I made rapid progress I found myself wishing more and more that I had gone to Marks & Spencer or even, God forbid, McDonalds, to use their bathroom facilities before starting the journey home.

Yes, it may seem a little indelicate to talk of these things but the truth was my bladder was full to capacity and each homeward step reminded me of this pressing fact. I realised that I had seriously got my calculations wrong. As I walked I was becoming more convinced that I would not make it home with my dignity in tact.

I was about half way home when I dashed across a busy road, not bothering to wait for the traffic lights to change as that would delay me too much. It was at this point in the journey that I saw a man, a woman and a child. The man had abandoned his child in the pushchair and was slowly walking across the lines of traffic holding on to the arm of an elderly woman.

I smiled once I realised what was going on because it took me a few seconds to take in his backwards looks of concern to his child, the flowing traffic and the other pedestrians nearby – including me. As I hurried past I took a few steps towards them and said, “It’s nice to see a real gentleman these days.” (This is not an anti-feminist statement just an observation recognising the care of a stronger person towards a weaker one.) The man smiled in return while continuing his glance back across the road to the pavement where his child sat playing with her toy while waiting patiently.

It was at this point that my plans for the quick release changed.

The old woman, now safely positioned on the pavement, turned to me and grabbed my arm. I was shocked but I returned her hold with a gentle touch on her arm. For someone who looked so frail she had a really strong grip on my arm and somehow I instantly knew that I wasn’t going home as planned. The man had been released and he returned to his bemused child. The woman was talking to me from the moment she touched me. I was into something, and at that moment I was not sure exactly what it was. Luckily my mind became the main controller of my bodily functions as I slowly, really slowly, steered her to the nearest low wall. I suggested that she wait there while I go and look for her key. This was part of the story that she had just relayed to me.


Daphne, the name she gave me within a few seconds, was out for a walk and had apparently lost her key in a charity shop nearby. As she leaned against me she used her walking stick to point out where the shop was. She indicated that it was on the same road as we were stood in but just down a bit on the right. There was no such establishment on the road where we were but I knew that one was around the corner on a nearby street so I suggested she stay there and I run to the shop to retrieve her key. My brain told me that the distance to the shop plus the speed of her movement and the factor of my full bladder would only result in an embarrassing disaster. I was grateful that I had actually paid attention in my science classes at school as the formula really meant something right then. I realised that it would be seriously embarrassing if I got these calculations wrong.

I left Mrs Smith, she had told me to call her Daphne – but that didn’t feel right to me, by the wall clutching her cane and her very proper embroidered cotton handkerchief. Her blue rinse shone in the sunlight when I glanced back to see if she was OK. The reflection of the sun also bounced off her large glasses frames. At close quarters her eyes looked like a surprised rabbit that had been suddenly caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, from a distance she reminded me of World Champion snooker player Dennis Taylor with his extra large glasses lenses.

I enquired at the charity shop then searched around it, with assistance. The pleasure of helping someone was spreading around. A stranger in the shop asked me if he could help. There were several other willing volunteers in the shop as well. After scanning the compact space I knew the key was still missing but there were so many smiles growing on the faces of the people I kept meeting on my quest that although I was indeed leaving without retrieving the key I felt as if I had undeniably been the recipient of several gifts.

Additionally I noted that even though I still needed to get home the urgency of my solitary homeward bound mission had greatly abated.

As I hurried back to Mrs Smith I decided to stop in the only shop on the original side of the road where our paths had intersected. I could see Mrs Smith leaning against the wall ahead of me, waiting for me, a stranger, to return with good news.

The owner of the import and export business (definitely not a charity shop) did not know anything about a lost key, however he offered to call his wife to check with her as she had been working in the shop earlier that day. Sadly Mrs Import-Export hadn’t any knowledge of the key either.

Regardless of returning to Mrs Smith empty-handed I was mindful that I was now walking in a lighter manner and a euphoria of pleasure was embracing my body. I was, however, beginning to wonder about the veracity of the lost-key story. Was this, I thought, just a desperate call for some kind human contact? What exactly was going on here? Although I had started to wonder about the reason for our contact I soon chased these thoughts from my mind when I looked up and saw Mrs Smith waiting with anticipation for my return. She needed someone to do something for her – that was obvious. So what if she was confused about what the thing was, she definitely knew she needed something. And, I was beginning to enjoy being the one who was able to fulfil some small part of that need. I was helping this one-time stranger with something, it was unplanned but emotionally it was extremely rewarding.


On my return to the wall where Daphne Smith rested, I was met by a woman whose attitude amused me and made me reassess the things that I worry about. She did not seem at all overly concerned by the fact that the key could not be found. As I gave her the news I thought that this may be the end of our interaction. Instead of going our separate ways Mrs Smith clamped onto my arm again as she levered herself off the wall. She then began to slowly, but firmly, propel me in the opposite direction from which I had just returned, and away from my home. As we were evidently heading towards the housing complex I agreed to accompany her back inside safely and I suggested telling the warden that she had accidentally lost the key was the best way forward. Her wrinkled skin, that had a fragile tracing-paper-like quality in the facial area, altered into an arrangement that indicated reluctance to follow this plan. As we continued to progress at a very slow pace she divulged that this was the second key that she had ‘mislaid’ in a week and they, the powers that be, didn’t even want her to leave the building that day so she anticipated some displeasure when she returned keyless again. Daphne hesitated for a second and we took about six more steps before she tilted her head to one side and said to me that it would be best if I just told them that she had been a little unsteady on her feet and that is the reason why I was accompanying her back. Although it was the partial truth I felt uncomfortable with perpetuating a lie, I explained my reasons. Her response was that Graham, the warden would be angry with her if she said she’d lost her key again and that this reason for me assisting her would be more easily accepted. I was in a quandary, because lying is just not in my way of living.


Nevertheless I had a few more minutes to think and we rounded the corner that led to the back access door of the housing scheme. In the small courtyard that doubled as a parking bay a taxi crept passed us and parked near the doors at the end of the walkway. A woman leaning heavily on a walker made her way to the parked vehicle, as she moved towards the waiting taxi in a crablike manner Daphne continued to talk to me. She told me that they’re always coming in there, the taxis, to take the people off for appointments and visits all over the place.

She smiled and passed a friendly greeting to both the taxi driver, who was by this time placing the walking frame into the boot of the car while the old woman was backing herself slowly onto the rear passenger seat. They had driven off by the time I was pressing the intercom on the wall by the entrance door. I followed Daphne’s instructions and the door soon slid open to allow us entry.


Holding on to my arm still Daphne walked purposely towards one of the high-backed chairs that were dotted around the entrance lobby. Settling herself into the one closest to the door she started talking to the occupant of the adjoining chair. I had been paraded across the smart lobby area as if I were some prized possession she had recently won at bingo. Now I stood waiting expectantly by the side of her chair as she arranged herself comfortably in the seat while still recounting the adventures of the past hour to her fellow resident.


It is amazing just how much of a person’s life you can learn about in around five minutes – if you just listen to them, really listen.

I had said that I’d do one more thing for Daphne. It was the main reason that she had ventured out that morning: she wanted a top-up for her mobile phone.

As I stood in front of her chair I reminded her that I would willingly go for the top-up but she would have to trust me to take her money as I would be going alone. Without a moment’s hesitation she reached into her bag, retrieved her purse and fished out a £10 note. I verified the mobile network that she was subscribed to and I then pocketed the money and bid the elderly group of women farewell. I reiterated that I would return no sooner than thirty minutes as I had to go home first. They all nodded at me and then turned back to each other to continue their conversation. I was free to go.


I had taken a few steps when I felt her eyes on me again, so I turned back towards her. Daphne had something else to say to me, I could feel it. Her eyes were enlarged behind those magnifying snooker-like lenses and they seemed to be pleading to me. Suddenly her hand reached out towards me. I hesitated and then took a step back towards her. I noted that I had been speaking in an extra loud voice for some reason. I did not know that she was hard of hearing at all but I still continued to speak slowly, clearly and loudly. I felt like the proverbial English tourist abroad without the use of the local language. Then the request came again, Daphne wondered aloud if I was really busy or if I had time to do a few more things to help her. Suddenly I was reminded of visiting my father and wanting to get away when he would reel of this list of ‘small’ tasks that ‘wouldn’t take long’. I smiled, but firmly said that I only had time for the phone task because I’d shortly have to meet my son from school.


As I exited the building I reflected that I had only met this stranger, this Daphne Smith, a mere thirty or so minutes previously and yet here I was walking away with her money. I felt blessed to have received her trust in such a short time and I noted to myself that although I knew I was trustworthy it was me and not her who had raised the issue of trust. I never doubted myself - I just wanted to make sure that she was sure of what she was doing. Daphne never once questioned my honesty, trustworthiness or kindness. She just took me in to her life circle by the single grasp of my wrist. It seemed that was enough to inform her of my character.


I think this unexpected contact was somehow infused into me because as I resumed my journey home I was again stopped and asked for help. This willingness to help others appears to have become evident and was somehow etched on my face and integral to the way I walked along the street. Maybe I was just glowing with the pleasure of helping someone but somehow the more people I walked by the more people seemed to smile at me that day. Spontaneous help infuses the helpers with a gift that is evidenced in a sense of unexpected goodness simply because you are able to help somebody in some small way.


Ever since I walked towards the man helping Daphne Smith across the road it was as if I became part of a huge system that connected unrelated people for one purpose. And we all seemed to like it. So many people got involved in this one incident. So many people are now associated to each other in a new and different way, mainly by their willingness to reach out to each other and it is all because one woman wanted to go for a walk.

New roots

I had obviously done something wrong but was not sure what it was. Maybe it was too much water after a period of drought or maybe it was just time for the end of this particular season of growth.

All I did know was that the plant was dying – right there in front of me.

I decided to try to rescue it. Well, some of it anyway. Some of the plant was evidently beyond saving and so, gingerly, I eased it out of the plant pot and released it into the compost bag.

The bit of plant that I had retained I placed into a cup of water on the kitchen windowsill to see if it would sprout any roots so that I could try to replant it.

It is not that I am particularly attached to this plant because of its origins (it was a gift but I was not attempting this rescue to remember who had given it to me and why). I am used to the greenery in the house and I just want to give it a chance to keep growing. I didn’t feel that its time was over just yet, and the free-flowing leaves and stems just made me happy because they were unrestrained and followed their own route.

Right then I decided that if I managed to encourage the new roots then I would re-pot it and pay much better attention to it this time around. I mean, to give it what it needed to encourage its free growth, rather than to stunt it by oversight and neglect.

Today, on this bright Sunday afternoon, about three weeks had passed since I started the rescue plan, I was now used to seeing the new cuttings on the windowsill but I decided to have a look and see what was happening below the rim of the cup. I raised the still green leaves from the top of the cup and smiled broadly as I saw the many roots that had grown out from the stems that had been quite harshly detached from the main plant.

It makes me happy to know that there is still a big chance that this plant will be successfully transplanted from its original state to a new environment where it will, hopefully, grow and flourish.

As I planned the future location of this fledgling plant I thought about how in the past I have been rooted in one way or another to a particular path and when it came to a time when I had to move the transition had sometimes been uncomfortable and difficult but eventually I settled in my new position. I have had struggles at times to establish my new roots but, thank God, with patience they have come through and I have obtained a firm hold on the new foundation.

Sometimes it looked as if I would flounder and fail to survive but a new channel for my growth was presented at the correct time and I have thrived. It has often been the case – for this has occurred numerous times – that I began to lose hope in myself when my root system no longer sustained my growth. However, I did not give up and I eventually saw that a new way was opened up for me.

It is because of this plant that I am reminded to embrace new beginnings and use the strength within to navigate the unexpected times of feeling rootless and reach across the breach because new opportunities for amazing growth are waiting to be fulfilled in my life.

Living Now

Living now is a risky business.

I mean that in the sense of wanting to have a connection with another person. A deep connection, a lasting connection.

We all want to know people and be known by people. Really knowing them and really being known.

This means taking a risk.

That is, unfortunately, how we have come to view the prospect of opening up to someone new. Like it is a risk.

That old familiar feeling of rejection hovers over us like Damocles’ sword. The ever present threat from which we think we’ll never recover.

The truth is that we do have knock-backs and rejections but that’s really all right. It would be impossible – and undesirable - to have everyone we meet in our lives at the same level of intimacy. We have to accept that some people will not like us, not because we are not likeable, but because we may not be right for their lives at that time.

This is a fact that I am beginning to accept because I know that the same thing does happen from my perspective. In theory I’d love to make and keep all friends for ever, but the reality is that sometimes our paths cross and we walk the same route for a while, then we may veer off into our own separate adventures and journeys. On occasions these paths may entwine again and the meeting is usually joyous.

However, when we go our separate ways it is because that is where our personal journeys are taking us, not merely because we are avoiding friendships.

We each have to follow our inner compass.

If my pull is in one direction and my friend is being pulled in another direction then I must let them pursue their way. For friendships sake I cannot stand in their way.

Their way is not my way.

My way is not your way.

Your way is not their way.

Not always …

But sometimes we do walk together,

For a while.

I’m trying to make the time I spend with friends special and accept that the time apart is special as well. For all of us.

The brilliance of sharing time, fun, love and happiness can help to stave off those moments of loneliness. These moments can be redirected to reflection and rejoicing at what we have enjoyed and what we can look forward to enjoying as well.

What I am learning each day is that opportunities can come is all shapes and sizes, and particularly in different guises.

When I remain open to possibilities, then I receive them in abundance.

Getting to know people, even for a short while, is what I now consider an opportunity not a risk.