Mar 2024 – sillysocksonfriday

Understanding

We respond to our perception of others’ actions, despite not knowing their motivation, intention or the accuracy of execution of their intended action or how our response will be understood.

We perceive monsters which are just mistakes or gifts which are poison to the touch. Our interpretation of the world that others live in is based on surmise and is skewed by our own attitude and experience.

We should not assume intention or motive without question. Such question needs fine crafting to avoid accusation.

Yet pain and misery make some lash out and hurt regardlessly, maybe somehow to ease their pain. They make relationships hostage to their wellbeing without regard for the damage, to salve their wounds, which are often imagined, nevertheless painful.

Happily conversations between familiars are usually open and easy, not requiring deep scrutiny as to meaning and motive.

How do we deal with suspicious, unhappy, antagonistic or rude acquaintances who are in our social circle?

I asked Dr Google:

No one can hurt you without your consent. It is not what happens to us that hurts us. It is our response that hurts us.

Ships don’t sink because of the water around them; ships sink because of the water that gets in them. Don’t let what’s happening around you get inside you and weigh you down.

Just keep it superficial, keep your interactions brief, keep it positive…and move along quickly.

Don’t try to fix them, don’t give them ammunition, and move on.

It takes a great degree of self-control not to respond to accusation or insult from an unhappy person. Somehow find a way to deflect, duck or ignore the lashing out, which is a way of making you feel the pain being suffered. Not easy and often a lack of response acts as a spur.

Some people need to be persuaded that there are better views of themselves and the world.

Cognitive Behaviour Therapy helps one to take a different view of history which enable more positive feelings.

The trick is to persuade the person that there is help. Pride is a terrible thing and is a defence against being laughed at or pitied, which are almost the worst social experiences.

Making ourselves mad

In order to allow both parents to enter paid employment, governments subsidise child care services, in which we willingly enrol our children, some as young as 3 months old. (This is permitted!)

As people get older, they need more care, so instead of caring for them, we allow them to be sent to aged care homes, also subsidised by government.

Out of sight, out of mind?

I bet this will surprise you …. NOT!

Over 50% of aged care residents have significant levels of depression.
Around one in seven Australians take antidepressants

Institutional old age and child care services are convenience services designed to remove caring support roles from the family unit and free up more people to enter the labour force.

The distress and toll on families that this causes is apparent.

In primitive societies, the elderly and the young were kept in the family home, with the bulk of caring falling on female household members. Oooh! I need to tread carefully here…

In modern times, females have demanded and been granted greater access to and equality in the labour force. Which governements support and encourage for a number of reasons.

So the modern solution is to outsource our caring duties. Is there any wonder that so many are on anti-depressants?

What can be a greater source for despair than daily abandonment of children and the marooning of their grandparents, our own parents?

We know the effect on the elderly – what about the effect on our children?

One solution is to stop chasing the ‘own home dream’ and promoting the shared home. Subsidise home carers, not care homes; incentivise one working parent households.

A 24-work day would enable both parents to work and to care for the children and grandparents.

The pace and demands of our society is causing its disintegration at the edges.

We institutionalise the young and old, almost certainly deteriorating their mental health. We allow the drug addicts, destitute and depressed detritus of our commumities to sleep in the streets.

Is it not time we open our eyes and put our foot down?

Ya Nincompoop!

nincompoop (plural nincompoops)

(derogatory) A foolish or silly person. [from 16th c.] synonyms ▲quotations ▼Synonyms: dunderhead, fool, imbecile, nitwit,
gaby, hammerhead, putz; see also Thesaurus:fool

It seems that insults or slurs are subject to fashion and context.

“You little monkey” is often heard from proud mothers beaming at agile, mischievious infants. However, it is a gross insult for dark skinned people, particularly hulking great sportsmen!

As an African I am keenly aware that the K-word is a definite no word and is felt as a terrible insult by black Southern Africans. Yet Afrikaners frequently referred to their own chubby little children as klein kaffertjies, as a sign of endearment.

I recall some years ago yelling out in exasperation “O you baboon!” at a rugby game when one of my son’s team mates dropped the ball, missing a certain try.

After the game, I was delicately taken to task (I usually gave lifts to the players and was a faithful fan). It was said that exasperation was acceptable and they were happy for the exchange of hairdresser for baboon.

I suppose one should not use even that as exasperated critique at a rugby match these days….

I am sure if I called my wife a cabbage, she would resent it, yet in France it is a term of endearment.

In a change of direction we see that Sam Kerr, who has an Indian grandmother, was arrested for calling a cop a stupid white bastard.

I wonder which word makes it an insult ?

There is a whole list of ethnic slurs in Google for almost every country or ethnicity: quite enetertaining reading and in a way an account of history.

Identity slurs have become a political weapon, capable of being exaggerated and sensationalised until the fallout stuns the nation. How did simple words get so over inflated into righteous causes? You bitch is not a nice thing to say; you black/white bitch is a mortal sin, likely to entrance the nation for a week!

Back in the day, if one was insulted, one returned the insult or biffed the insulter on the nose or walked away. Now we huff and puff and the house is blown down by the selective Mother Grundy zealots determined to impose their values and solutions on our world. And the media pumps it up with suitable tones of horror and barely suppressed outrage.

What happened to “Sticks and stones can break your bones, but words will never harm you”??

It really is a matter of choice – but there seems to be so much ado about nothing!!

It is time that the nanny response to such small stuff is shelved and we need some brave politicians and editors to say so.

Ya piddle nishers!

Chickens!

Kaah -coo-coo-cooo

A hen had just laid and egg and proclaimed her pride and satisfaction for all to hear, as I passed on my early morning ride.

I again feel sad that I have no live chickens of my own. In urban areas, roosters are not permitted because of their intemperate calls. I was given some substitutes as a consolation, but sadly, they are silent, eat no caterpillars and don’t poo on the lawn.

Personally, I am an early riser, so am grateful for cock crows at dawn. When there is a full moon rising, I am delighted when vigilant roosters are fooled, thinking here comes the sun”!!

We fed weeds to our chickens when we were young; always keeping a look out for the head rooster, Mziki, who was a beautiful, vicious bastard! We fed him a dead boomslang and he choked on it and died. My Dad was very sad, so he was buried and not eaten. We tried to be sad…

Tsabetse, our convict gardener, was the chicken executioner. We youngsters were enthralled. He would catch the convicted fowl, place its head under its wing and turn a circle three times, disorienting the bird. He then stretched its neck on a wood block and chopped its head off.

Once, he let the body go too soon and it lurched to its feet, headless, tottered around gouting blood, scattering us like sparrows, squealing and twittering!

Swazis take great pride in the beauty of their chickens and some have acquired proud long legged Malay Game fowl. The Malay Game cock has a vicious hooked beak, and spurs like lances.

Back in the day, my elder brother and friends spent hours driving to remote kraals to buy prize specimens for secret, nefarious entertainment.

They had cockfights.

Blood and feathers and the guilty joy of indulging in a prohibited activity. We youngsters were enthralled, revulsed and fascinated, proud to be allowed to watch, but slightly appaled too.

That practice was ended on threat of prosecution after a complaint by some Mother Grundy. He/she probably doesn’t like boxing either!

My younger brother also loves chickens and he taught me the danger call: a Crrrrrrrk! uttered from the back of the throat, which sends all the hens scuttling under cover, with one eye skyward, looking for the chicken hawk.

His chicken run on his bushveld farm has to be pretty robust to resist attacks from pythons and egg eaters such as the imbolwane, a mongoose, which once provided much entertainment, when the chicken man had to catch it.

I was very happy to see feral gamefowl and bantams on roadsides in New Zealand.

Chickens are wonderful – they provide eggs and meat to many across the world. They are beautiful, make economical pets, eradicate garden pests while fertilising it in the process.

You gotta love them!

Resentment

This word has been echoing in my mind of late. I am concerned as I cannot figure why it is there.

Do I have some deep seated resentment? Who is the subject cause? It’s always a person, of course. If it’s not a person, then it’s God and He/She is not a good choice for blame.

Resentment is a secret feeling, cousin to envy and jealousy. I feel bad because I have been mistreated (not my fault, of course) or I haven’t got what I want, what others have.

I suppose it is akin to pride, the worst sin. It is based on comparism – one can only judge one’s own worth in the light of others. It is a failure to examine one’s own position and accept that we are the authors of our own fortune.

It takes honesty and courage, which are not easy, as they are quite easy to evade. Rationalisation as to why I failed becomes a habit and that’s where resentment sneaks in the door. Shifting the blame … it wasn’t me…

Meditation and introspection can help. But the mind is so agile it will pick up speed and leap over any awkward lumps in the way, unless you brake and reverse and re-examine them, this time wearing your glasses.

If you don’t deal with resentment, it festers and can blow up in an uncontrolled confrontation, or implode in a dark depression …. neither good for you or your loved ones.

So deal with it, now!