Category: friends

friends · knowledge

Pondering the Unanswerable

Joanne2 Comments

“Questions are guaranteed in life; answers aren’t”.

Why is it that I can write a post perfectly in my mind, when access to pen and paper or computer is impossible, yet I will sit, hours later, in front of the computer screen and the words escape me?

Gone. No clues remaining. Not even a hint of those fly-away words.

And why are there periods of time in my life when I’m completely solid and unswayable on a subject, yet at other times I fuss and bother over “nothing” questions?

Perhaps it’s all the fault of my Libran personality. Librans are said to be just a tad (ha!) indecisive.

But wait, I’m not even a Libran! I’m Taurus! Taurus, with Libra moon and Libra ascendant.

If I were a totally, fully-fledged Taurus, I’d know, with total, absolute certainty, the answers to all of the so-called unanswerable questions. ‘Coz Taureans are unwavering and determined.

Aren’t they?

Which leads me to another question; why do I, the Taurus, find myself most compatible with Sagittarius personalities? And Aries?

Why have I spent my entire life being drawn to Virgo men, who annoy the life out of me with their finicky, perfectionist ways?

When I spend too much time at home, I can go stir-crazy, so I spend time out…and miss spending time at home. The weather is hot, so I wish it were cold again. After a few months of cold, I miss the warmth. But only sometimes!

Is everyone this indecisive? Do we all long for the opposite to what we have?

Are we ever satisfied with our lot in life? Does everyone ask these questions?

Some questions are so profound, they hurt. Questions such as why are there unsuspecting people in the world today, who are suffering due to the effects of an earth quake? Why them? What did they ever do to deserve this?

There are no answers to these questions that I’m aware of.

So, I avoid asking the questions. They’re too painful and serve no purpose to a single soul, either to the questioner or to those suffering.

There once was a time, a number of years ago now, when I had thought that helping another human being meant everything. Being only one person myself, I knew that help on a grand scale would be impossible for me to achieve, therefore setting my sights on helping those closest to me, in their times of need.

Little did I know back then that I was on the verge on learning one of life’s biggest lessons.

During a traumatic time of a friend’s life, one of unimaginable pain and heartbreak, I attempted to offer assistance, to smooth the road to recovery for a period of time by taking care of all of the mundane aspects of their life; the washing, ironing, cooking, cleaning, shopping; whilst she focussed all of her energy on recuperating from the upheaval which was present in her life.

Day after day she slept, while I took care of her life.

After two weeks of seeing not a single sign of progress, not a hint of resurrection to her own life, I sought help myself, in the form of a psychologist.

I asked the question, “Why won’t my friend at least attempt to help herself? I’ve taken all of her life’s mundane chores over myself, thinking it would help, but she’s making no progress at all. She sleeps all day, every day”.

The answer to my question was not what I had expected, nor was I prepared for. The psychologist, in his infinite wisdom, told me to stop helping. He told me to leave my friend to her own devises. He told me to turn my back and walk away!

Walking away was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do in my life. But after he explained to me why she wasn’t making any progress, I knew I had to. For her sake.

While I attended to all of my friend’s chores, she had no need to get up off her butt and take care of her own family, so she didn’t! When the help no longer existed, she was forced into action!

Not helping my friend was the kindest thing I could do for her.

What I have learned is that the questions will always exist, no matter what. Some questions have appropriate answers, some don’t. And some of the answers are not necessarily the answers we wish to hear.

There are times when questions can frustrate. And other times when we wish to help, but it’s impossible to do so. And no one can explain to us why.

It’s at these times that sending a prayer (if we are so inclined), or kind thoughts of well being to those in need, is the best help we can offer. So, that’s what we do. It all helps, somehow. Don’t ask why…

 

 

freedom · friends · hare · summer

Where the Wild Creatures Live

Joanne4 Comments
A wild baby hare, spending the day inside, in the coolness of our shower.

We had another unexpected little garden visitor here this morning. This creature, as opposed to the frogs and cicadas, was a quiet little thing.

At first we were not sure whether it was a baby rabbit or a hare. Either way, it would not have survived the day where it was, out in the full strength midday sun, all alone.

We put the little fellow into our shower recess with a saucer of cool water, while we scoured the internet for information on him.

By later this afternoon we had concluded that he was a wild baby hare. If we tried to domesticate him, he would have no doubt died within a short space of time. Hares need to be free to survive.

We often see fully grown hares around the garden, so it would be logical to believe that is what he is.

According to the information that we read, he needed to be returned to the garden at the end of the day, when the heat of the day had subsided; to around the same place he had been found.

We found a sheltered area, with plenty of hiding places and shelter from the elements, and left him with another shallow dish of water.

It would be nice to think he will continue to survive in our garden. I’m quite happy to share our garden with all of these harmless, wild creatures.

Such a little cutie!
Australia · floods · friends

The Courage of My Friend

Joanne7 Comments

“Courage doesn’t always roar.  Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I’ll try again tomorrow.” ~ Mary Anne Radmacher

As we bid farewell to the month of January I am reminded that the theme at NaBloPoMo all of this month has been “Friends”, therefore I believe it is only fitting that my final post for the month should include an amazing article, written by one of my online friends, Káren Wallace, at the Calm Space.

January this year was always destined to be a huge month in Káren’s life, with family birthday celebrations, Káren and her husband’s twenty-fifth wedding anniversary and the looming excitement of the family moving into their newly built home.

What they hadn’t planned on was the turmoil their lives would be thrown into, along with hundreds of other families, during the January floods in Queensland, Australia.

Once Káren’s electricity, telephone and internet connections were restored, she wasted no time at all in sharing her “adventure” with her readers.

I already knew Káren to be a true woman of substance, of integrity, strength, wisdom and grace. But it was in her article published late last week on “Courage” that Káren revealed another side to her personality.

Here we find the vulnerable and very real lady, who has endured, along with her family, the heartache and pain brought about by the harsh realities of the Australian climate.

In speaking of courage, Káren tells us that she is “daring to be real and vulnerable and show my real self to the world.”

And that, she does.

But perhaps Káren shows us a very large smattering of psychic intuition in writing this article also. You would think, for all the world, that she had written the article “The Courage to be Me, The Courage to be Real” after picking herself up and brushing herself off after the recent floods.

In actual fact, Káren wrote the article last October, during the month of the theme “courage” at the Calm Space. And for some reason, she didn’t publish it back then.

The timing wasn’t right. It was too early for these words to be revealed to the world. This article needed to be published now, in the aftermath of the floods.

I do hope you will read and enjoy “The Courage to be Me, The Courage to be Real” and join me in sending my friend Káren, along with all the other Queenslanders who suffered in some way during the January floods, calm thoughts of strength and love.

“May the sun shine, all day long,
everything go right, and nothing wrong.
May those you love bring love back to you,
and may all the wishes you wish come true!”

~ Irish Blessing

Photo credit.

friends

Perfectly Imperfect

Joanne2 Comments

An incident which took place in my life a number of years ago, leaving lasting repercussions, began a conscious effort for me to define the word “perfect”.

Before the incident took place, I hadn’t questioned the word at all, believing I knew exactly what it meant.

Perfect for me was the right amount of salt on my chips to suit my taste or the right position for my chair to be arranged so I could read clearly from the light coming through the window when I sat there.

They were the times when I may well declare that it was “perfect”, meaning perfect for me.

Maybe not so perfect for someone else, but I could accept that. “Different strokes for different folks”, as the saying goes. The word perfect had not been an issue to me.

Until the day I lost a friend, after my use of the word.

An old school friend and I had kept in touch through letter writing for some years. After the birth of my fourth child I wrote to her with my good news, knowing she would be happy to share my excitement.

Not so. I had explained to my old friend the joy that my three other children had shown in welcoming their new baby brother, telling her how he was the perfect addition to our family.

My friend had one son, an adorable little boy, regardless of having been born with many disabilities. His personality shone through his health problems and the look of love lit up his huge brown eyes.

Her letter of reply after my announcement of my child’s birth stunned me. She no longer wished to continue our friendship as she felt the word “perfect” to be a slur at her son.

I questioned myself. Had I been insensitive to my friend’s feelings? She had always been happy to hear stories I had told her of my children, just as I enjoyed hearing about her son.

Or had she?

Eventually, after many months of soul-searching and many conversations with another friend who has an autistic child, I sadly concluded that my lost friend felt so much grief over her child that it was too much for her to cope with.

There was nothing I could say to her to console her; her mind was made up.

Call me strange if you like, but to me, imperfections make perfection!

Dictionary definition, adjective, perfect ~ “of or marked by supreme moral excellence; holy; immaculate, free from any flaw or defect of quality”.

To be honest, classic perfection makes me nervous!

These are some of my definitions of perfection ~

The knots in a piece of wood, showing the flaws of nature.

The comfort and softness of sitting in a well loved chair.

The ruggedness of the stonework used to construct old buildings.

The bite marks in my furniture, still evident from the days when my eldest son was teething.

The curls in my daughter’s hair, which she claims “sit funny”.

The irregular textures in a ball of natural wool when I’m knitting.

The wrinkles around an old person’s eyes, showing they have really enjoyed living their life.

The gnarled branches of a tree, twisting up to the sky.

The scar on my daughter’s knee, a reminder of her clumsiness, the day she went away on year six school camp.

The jagged rock-face beside the ocean, formed through years of crashing ocean waves.

My list of perfections would be endless!

Perhaps I could sum up my own definition of perfect this way ~

“Distinct irregularities on an object or person, each flaw telling a story all of its own”.

My definition of the word perfect will never make it to the “Shorter Oxford English Dictionary, Volume II”, and I can live with that.

It’s time for the world to embrace the perfect imperfections of everyone, and everything. 🙂

friends · music

Memories of My First Love

JoanneLeave a comment

The power of the human mind fascinates me.

In many of my writings here, I find myself contemplating our abilities as human beings to shape our lives, moulding them to become what we would like them to be, by utilising the energies of an unseen being, a being with which we have total control over ~ our own minds.

However, our minds can be fickle little creatures, wandering off to parts unknown, if we let our guard down.

And most times our thoughts wander off into familiar territory. Our memories.

Some time ago I started another blog, one in which I would have a place to record my memories; a place where I could vent my thoughts and unmuddle my brain.

Once written, those thoughts and memories take their rightful place, in the back of my mind, leaving a void in which new memories can enter.

It’s almost like a therapy session!

The perfect conditions must prevail for me to write down my significant memories most of the time. Sometimes, a memory will rattle and clank around in my mind for many years, before I can finally put the ghosts to rest, in words.

The planets aligned perfectly for me just recently. Memories began a lifetime ago reached their conclusion for me.

I have no explanation for my feelings; they just are what they are.

Here is my most recently dismissed ghost, buried within the words of my mind, at “Memoirs of my Life”.