ego blography – Page 3 – sillysocksonfriday

Flit like a butterfly…

meer focus

You might wake up some mornin’
To the sound of something moving past your window in the wind
And if you’re quick enough to rise
You’ll catch a fleeting glimpse of someone’s fading shadow
Out on the new horizon
You may see the floating motion of a distant pair of wings
And if the sleep has left your ears
You might hear footsteps running through an open meadow

That was Bob Lind singing about the elusive butterfly of love.

The butterfly I am thinking of flits aimlessly, changing direction for no reason other than a splash of colour, is wafted up and sideways by the breeze….

That’s my mind, which generally has a struggle to focus and apply itself. Distraction is easy and frequent and false hares are irresistible once started, so I end up foxless.

Is that procrastination, a lack of discipline, poor focus, scant 1 thing at a time concern? Probably all; which is somewhat depressing. Tenacity and determination have always been my weak point: it took me 14 years to achieve my BA, for heaven’s sake!

in the moment Phew! This started out as flash realisation it was Friday and I had not written my weekly blog and a mild self castigation for following bloody butterflies again!

I have been meaning to read up on meditation; maybe this is another message?

who cares

Enjoy your weekend, y’all!

Ash Wednesday

This day marks the beginning of Lent, the Christian tradition of fasting and renewed contemplation of spiritual life. It endures for 40 days in commemoration of the time Jesus spent fasting in the desert, during which he endured temptation by Satan. Adherents focus on prayer, doing penance, repentance of sins, almsgiving, atonement and self-denial.

All very commendable and worthy practices.

I recall the tiny Catholic Church in Mbabane, overflowing with serious and devout Swazis lining up to be marked on the forehead with an ash cross. Incense and sweat and lovely singing. I couldn’t wait to get out and surreptitiously wipe my brow before any of our friends could see me – they were all Protestants.

“Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return” – a sobering thought.

Dad gave up his Gordons pink gin and water (ugh!) before lunch and his John Jameson’s whisky before supper. I think Mum gave up smoking? My brother and I had to forgo sweets, which was really heavy!

The fast was for 40 days but Sundays were excluded and so were birthdays in our house.

I have for some years maintained a fast by giving up beer, which is quite a sacrifice for me.

However, this year I have decided to give up meat. I must confess that my motivation is not that pure: I have been working on reducing my girth by eating healthier and less food and I am conscious that like many colonials, I eat too much meat. So a wee bit of vanity sneaks in there, but discipline and self-improvement trump them.

Giving up meat is not as simple as just forgoing beer; it is a major disruption to household habits, which affect not only me, but also my wife.

She does not like most fish. She has always done the catering including evening meal preparation. You may discern the tension. So I must prepare my own evening meals.

My research into Lent indicates that some fasts only included animal meat, so fish and fowl are acceptable. So tonight it will be tuna fishcakes; tomorrow sardines on toast, Friday could be salt and pepper squid, Saturday maybe crumbed whiting and Sunday will be braaivleis!

Monday boiled eggs, Tuesday tuna salad, Wednesday spaghetti marinara … I am getting into the swing of this! Suggestions are welcome.

I also intend to read up on meditation and perhaps practice it and attempt to complete the book I am writing, which is a major challenge as I have reached a stale block.

Finding a poor person to provide a meal to is difficult in the relative prosperity of a social welfare state. Some local homeless people demand money instead as they get too many meals!! I shall seek an alternate charitable cause.

I suppose I am an agnostic, but I believe in some of the traditions and practices and need self-discipline and spiritual renewal.

Give it a go! It’s a far more achievable challenge than New Year resolutions!

A Moral Compass

I often feel that we are morally adrift, that we do not have a clear sense of how to ground our identities and actions to ultimate values that transcend time and place. That is not to say that our society is largely immoral. Just amoral—lacking a clear compass or a foundational guide.

https://www.psychologytoday.com/experts/gregg-henriques-phd

moral-compass

The image shows integrity as the core or hub of the moral compass: the quality of being honest and having strong moral principles

synonyms: honesty, uprightness, probity, rectitude, honour, honourableness, upstandingness, good character, principle(s), ethics, morals, righteousness, morality, nobility, high-mindedness, right-mindedness, noble-mindedness, virtue, decency, fairness, scrupulousness, sincerity, truthfulness, trustworthiness

My preference was for the cardinal virtues: prudence, justice, fortitude and temperance

Prudence a never-let-society nd justice are the virtues through which we decide what needs to be done; fortitude gives us the strength to do it and temperance tells us how to do it.

Virtue is not easy; it involves sacrifice and challenge of or moral-compass-quote-roosevelt at least avoidance of peer pressures.

When I wrote about this about 12 years ago, someone commented that we should not require these values/virtues/principles to be taught in school but instead set the example ourselves. I agree that we should but know we frequently fall short…

So if integrity is the true North of the moral compass of life, how do we instil it in our own lives and those of the next generation?

Your ideas, experiences and thoughts would be appreciated. My spur of the moment suggestion and this is what I am doing, is to start a conversation, issue a challenge, ask for help. Would that be worth it or should we just leave it to osmosis and hope for the best?

small-step

Toned down

'I think I'm going deaf - I can't hear the horse whisperer.' My deafness began 35 odd years ago when I parted my hair with a rifle bullet. Not deliberately of course, but carelessly, following the dictates of my empty belly and breakfast waiting on the table.

During the Rhodesian bush war, it was the norm on farms to carry weapons in case of terrorist attack. In my haste I had left my loaded G3 rifle next to my bed, then remembered, so went to make it safe.

Sitting on the bed, I followed the usual process: unlatching the magazine, I cleared the round in the breech, released the safety catch and leaning forward with the barrel next to my head, pulled the trigger to ease the tension on the spring.

The magazine had not properly detached and a second round had fed into the breech, unnoticed.

The detonation was very loud and I looked up to see a hole in the roof, then down as the farmer’s wife came screeching along the passage from her bath, thinking it was an attack!

I had felt the bullet blast through the hair on the left of my head and could only hear a loud ringing, which continued for some time. We had a nervous laugh and finished breakfast. The farmer’s lady got dressed.

My hearing returned gradually and I was a star turn at the club that day, demonstrating my ability to whistle through my ears. That was the beginning of my gradual deafness.

Being hard of hearing made Ursula every pharmacy customer's worst nightmare. In about 2002, my children and wife’s complaints sent me to an audiologist and a set of hearing aids, which I used desultorily. They rusted up and were useless by 2010.

When we moved to Australia, I sought work in a call centre, so felt the need to get new aids – very expensive. But I lost the job and didn’t get another one, so petulantly ignored my hearing aids.

My friends with characteristic kindness speak up when addressing me, but I miss a lot of the asides and others’ chats; I also turn the TV sound way up. So I have started to use my hearing aids again.

They are not perfect despite 2 settings, and some 'I'm really beginning to feel my age, Lou. Irene used the can opener today and I didn't even hear it.' sounds are piercingly sharp, while others remain indistinct. One of my children and two of my daughters’ partners mumble, another lisps, my wife and the other two children are soft spoken.

A much more serious aspect is that I am an easy sleeper, my wife is not. We have a new puppy who wails in the night. Sometimes our blue ring neck parakeet shrieks for seeds and I miss that too. It’s all tinnitus to me, but my wife gets up. I would if I heard, but I don’t. I have asked her to wake me to attend to our little princess.

I have tended to withdraw a wee bit of late, which has alarmed my children as I usually have plenty to say. It’s just that I am uncomfortable continuously seeking repetition.

Quite naturally people forget or find coherent conversation difficult … and so it goes.

As John Milton put it, it’s a mild yoke. free-state-drakensberg-evening

In compensation, I find that my appreciation of colour has increased immensely: sunrise, sunset, plumage, flowers and autumn leaves all make me gush – that really makes people smile at my foibles.

So that is why I am a wee bit quieter these days.

Damned if I do and damned if I don’t

In my lackadaisical, insouciant fashion, I scanned a few posts on praise which praised praise for its beneficial effects on people, who generally seemed starved for praise and insistent on its compulsory deployment. This tweaked my contrariness.

Praise includes articulation, adulation, comments and acts that demonstrate admiration and approval of conduct. The tone of delivery is the most important.

Young children are positively reinforced by praise for almost any action they perform that has not been forbidden. It frequently becomes an expectation and so its worth becomes diluted by inappropriate use.

It takes a brave husband to fail to praise a new dress or hairstyle.

Where does that leave honest reaction and informed opinion?

I agree that they should be framed gently and considerately and attempt should be made to express some positive feelings. The need for encouragement and support in motivating others is paramount – that is not necessarily praise.

The English have a technique which can express a lack of real admiration which they call damning with faint praise which can be quite effective if the object thereof is reasonably astute. Therein lies the rub, because many people have become conditioned to unstinting praise and allergic to criticism.

The religious unconditionally praise deities, which appear to be affirmations of their faith. Is this from where unconditional praise stems?

Maybe so – all I am saying is that praise should always be measured and considered so that it is always true and appropriate and not just a sop to meet the expectations of the over-indulged.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/praise/

Ad-mire

I recall a blog I wrote 10 years ago in reaction to advertisements which appeared on my page and which seemed to relate to the contents of the blog. Well, I suppose that’s old hat nowadays – that’s how social media marketing works.

That blogblurt was quite innocuous; although the title contained the words “weapons” and “campaign” and it did mention that the Man could be foolish. On my next visit to the site, I noticed an ad tag in the header: “Conservative Politics”.
Now, I had only one blog friend then, who hadn’t had a blog in months.

Why and how was I so identified?
My conclusion is that it was done by machine, which I resent.

Politics are matters of the heart as much as the head. I do not believe that the intent of the intertwining recipe of intellect and emotion can be discerned by machine.

I cannot deny the utilitarian value of stereotypes; but I can resent it.
(Tough tofu, you word weed wimp – you are what you are labelled; machines don’t recognise slimy grovels… do they?)

Soo, check my tags out next week, let’s see if I garner any more Big Bro interest and labels.

Get off my back, Jack – political values change, like people; tolerance is elastic and the centre moves!
I am unique & and reject your label.
Wow! I am so radical…yeah right!

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/admire/

A call to take up inoffensive weapons in a global campaign

The time has come, as the Walrus said, to think of other things.
The organisation / association / school which I am proud & happy to have been a part of for over a decade, has decided to broaden its campaign.
It has been accepted that the global campaign against neckties has had some impact. Sympathisers have increased awareness that tying decorated strips of cloth around one’s neck is folly and a clear symbol of submission to the yoke of ridiculous convention.

I attended a seminar in the city recently. It was depressing: I had to seek guidance on how to access the lift – there were 6, with no buttons. One had to mechanically alert a console in the foyer as to one’s destination & it advised which lift would convey you. The damn thing had only a clock & an alarm bell & took me straight to floor 20 without stopping.
Even worse were the attendees: 90/100 uniformly attired in black; decorative nooses tightly wound around male necks & jackets buttoned …. slightly amused at my grey flannel slacks and cardigan, politely ignoring my lack of necktie. All I could think of was urban clones. The lawyers who adressed us, could have been brother and sisters, raised by a Sergeant Major! I am so glad I don’t work in the city!! The campaign has a loong way to go.

The Israelis, those clever industrious aggressive people, who are the best example of a general rejection of that corporate noose, are not doing well with PR at the moment though! So, a different campaign, a strategic feint, is considered appropriate to garner fresh attention
Being easy going, we understand the courage and daring involved in resistance. The Man is mean, unreasonable and unrelenting – a challenge of this nature is likely to invite institutional condemnation from up high
The Man, who has tolerated this absurdity for many years, will have to admit his own folly to recant. That is hard and would attract labels such as radical, liberal and, horror of horrors, may risk refusal of entry to the Club! So any challenge will be stifled.
Of course, women do not have to comply – that is discriminatory; but don’t tell a lawyer that, there will be an answer. Perhaps men should wear skirts to work – they could call them kilts …hmmm!

Take courage, talk about it, debate it, defend it, attack it!

We believe wearing silly socks can bring about a gradual erosion of urban uniform mentality. Start on Fridays & spread the word; encourage participation, praise creativity. It cannot be faulted (it is underwear , after all)

To socks, to socks!