Sitting on the Fence #courage

How often do we want something, believe in something? Whether it be a simple want or justice, or equality, or clarification to a situation, quite often we all are guilty of sitting back and watching others do the hard yards. Then, when all the work is done, we reap the benefits or, if the outcome is not successful we can honestly say we were not involved in the exercise.  We sit on the fence and bask in the glory of success and not ruffle a feather, and appear neutral if the outcome goes the other way. 

Quite often, even family loyalty is something we sit on the fence with too. We appear to be behind and trust someone 100% but, in fact we have placed our bets fifty/fifty so we,ourselves, don’t get hurt when the race is run. We simply say we do not want to be involved!  It’s so much easier to let others sort it out, to believe in someone and let them take the fall.  Believe me I have been there.  I have watched someone make the point, backed them from the fence and then, when the outcome is sorted, I can go either side of the fence depending on the outcome and, I have not lifted a finger, or broken a nail, so I look like the nice guy.  

 

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Sitting on the fence and being the nice guy is safe, it’s convenient, and it’s less time consuming.  But to be a nice guy on the ground pursuing equality, fairness, justice, and resolution is a much harder option.

 

Where would we fence sitters be today without  the on the ground nice guys such as Martin Luther King Jnr, Mahatma Gandhi, Helen Keller, Aung Suu Kyi, Nelson Mandela, Coretta Scott King, John F. Kennedy, Eleanor Roosevelt, Mother Teresa, Harvey Milk, and the list goes on?  You’ve got it, without these nice guys, we would probably not even have a fence let alone a world. 

These nice guys fought for our very liberty, justice, equality and peace. They believed in something, stood their ground and battled head on, not a wishy washy one among them. They felt strongly for and stood unabashed to defend truth and justice. Some of whom suffered persecution, imprisonment and even death for the very rights and benefits we so luckily have today. 

So where do we go from here? Do we sit on the fence and watch injustice?  Do we sit and watch as others fight our battle?  Do we sit on the fence and say we don’t want to get involved? If we continue on this path, we have no conscience, we have no credibility, we have no compassion. If we continue on this path we do not even have the true ability to love or to care.  We are just empty shells, hollow and emotionless. 

I know what sort of nice guy, I want to be.  I want to stand for justice, for truth and, for equality for all and I will not sit on the fence and take the safe option. When the day comes to close my eyes for the final time, I want to be proud to say ‘I tried’, ‘I cared,’ and ‘I loved’.

It won’t happen overnight but wouldn’t it be nice for everyone to stand their ground proudly and get involved - to make a difference and to promote truth and justice for every man, woman and child. 

Just my thoughts!

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A Spoonful of Sugar #sugarsweet

According to the dictionary the meaning for ‘Subliminal’ is: existing or operating below the threshold of consciousness; being or employing stimuli insufficiently intense to produce a discrete sensation but, often being, or designed to be, intense enough to influence the mental processes or the behaviour of the individual:

My question is ‘Can we communicate with someone despite not being together at the time?’  And ‘Can the deceased send us messages?’

I ask these questions with a desire that, the answer to my questions is ‘Yes!’ A couple of weeks ago I was sitting pondering, remembering, and agonising that for some reason someone who is close to my heart was dying.  I was also remembering another someone who had recently passed and what lovely men these two had been. At that stage one still was.  I know that one of these guys was a brilliant pianist and I thought of how he could play even close to the end, and still, the love of music was firmly embedded in his fingers and heart.  Suddenly, while thinking, a few chords of a piano next door came across my fence from a child that is learning to play.  I had not heard them play piano before. Then I drew myself out of my chair and proceeded to go to my piano which I had not played in well over 2 years.  This was as 7.20 in the evening, and as I sat down and started to play ‘A Lighter Shade of Pale’ I realised the keys were dusty and got a cloth and wiped the keys.  I then continued to play 4 songs and, as playing, my mind drifted to the man that had passed and my mind then swiftly turned to the man that was dying.  At 7.35 my sister rings, I stop playing and think as I go to the phone that this man has died.  On taking the phone call, my thoughts were affirmed that it was true.  He passed away at 7.25pm.  In my thoughts of him while I was playing, were that a new life for him would be wonderful.  He needed to find a place of peace. He needed to rekindle the spirit that he had taken from him over the past years.  

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I spoke to a few about this feeling that had washed over me. With my weird sense of humor, I laughed it off to friends and family that maybe, my bad playing made him leave the building and seek some refuge.  However, all actually believed in a spiritual communication of some kind and affirmed my original thoughts that it was in fact me communicating to him that it was ok for him to pass over, his farewells had been given in total.  

Speaking to another friend, she had said that when her husband had passed on, two of his closest friends had signs that had happened at the very time her husband had passed over.  She like me actually took solace  in their thoughts. 

In the final months of the latter mans life, he had cried that he does not know what is happening to him.  He asked questions but was stifled for the answers. In the years prior to his demise every time he had accepted a cup of tea (without fail) he would say, 'Don’t add sugar - I don’t like sugar.'  'She always puts sugar and I don’t like it.'  You would proceed to make his tea without sugar, he would take the first sip and say - ‘Just the way I like it’ .

In at least the last six years of his life, I could not tell you how many times I heard his plea of no sugar.  Slowly, but surely, this man was in decline of health whether he liked it or not he was slowly losing his power and health to make him become dependent on one.  His networks of friends and relatives were in decline as was his health. 

At the Christmas and New Year he traveled with his (one). He returned home, and then with rapid haste, the conditions he suffered became more intense. His networks were all but depleted. His future had become very dim indeed.  His Last Will & Testament was renewed, his enduring power of attorney was sured up to (one) his bank accounts had been lightened for faster probate costs.  His heart which had always been strong ,became weakened and his mind had become more dependent on (one).  He still cried, 'Why is this happening to me?'  He still cried, 'How can I fix this situation I have got myself into?'  But still he would cry, 'Yes, I would love a cup of tea but, don’t put sugar in like (one) does.'  And when we questioned (one), she said 'I do add some Sustagen to help him along.' In his final month the (one) had cut ties with his family and friends completely. The only ones left to stoke the (ones) ego and behaviour were those that we laughingly call ‘the rent a crowd’  These people loved her Oscar award performances.  Had she lived in Hollywood, I am sure Meryl Streep would not be the top of the academy winners list.  This (one) can move from streaming tears, to angered hate, to gentle caring old lady all within minutes and not have a tear nor red eye to be seen after the performance. 

Having set the scenario, I still ponder if from the grave can someone give a message?  Can they be telling us to check something out?  Were our suspicions of his tea worthy of our investigation? Remembering that the (one) is such a good actress, that her acting can proffer forth belief in her lies.  

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On the day of his funeral those that were close to him had never heard a song that he had supposedly sung morning and night to the (one).  However, this song was played as they had all believed that this was his song to her. 

I leave you with this thought, tell me, do people talk from the grave? Do people give us this subliminal messages to activate our thought processes?   Now I leave you to think for yourself, was this man who loathed sugar in his tea trying to tell us something.  The song I leave you to ponder was played full length at his service. 

Think it through “Just a spoonful of sugar” 

Happy thinking 

A Spoonful of Sugar - Mary Poppins 

The Life Beyond and The Life Left Behind

I sit and contemplate Alec’s entrance into the after life.  I see how he farewelled this life with hesitation (90 odd years)  but, I am sure he has entered the next, with music in his heart and at his fingertips.  This man will be tinkling the ivories with the best of them that are in that concert hall.  He will be sharing with his new found friends, and family, the wonderful memories of his life with Mary and the girls.  He will have already mapped the quickest ways to get around this great space and no GPS required.  This man was the master of transport and music.  His dry wit will have each, and everyone, in stitches and his loveable and jovial nature will bring all to sit beside him to hear of his life and love of a great woman.  

As we sit here thinking of how to carry on now that he is gone, we can only think of the void that is left with his absence.  Instead, we should think of this no fuss man who would not want us sitting around moping his leaving the building.  He would want everyone to carry on as before without the troubles of the last few years.  He would want the world to go back to normal and, for everyone, especially his beloved Mary to start living again.  He would want for all to remember the fun that they had experienced.  He would want everyone to rejoice, that the time spent was an adventure, and that the next adventure is just around the corner waiting.  And indeed, when our time comes we will all find that adventure with him at the helm no doubt. 

Death is very hard for us to bear but, if we think beyond ourselves for a moment, we will see the only people suffering are those that are left behind.  The departed are already planning the banquet, and the music, for our entrance to that great concert hall of our afterlife.  All they want, is for us to enjoy and make a better life for those that we will leave behind.  We have to make a difference, a contribution, so that when we leave our mortal coil, someone will be at least a little happier for knowing us. 

In dying, the challenge that Alec and many before him have set for us, is to do exactly that, to make a difference, to reach out and touch someones life.  To create memories, to encourage others to dream, to leave a footprint on this earth that others may follow. 

Life is going to be tough for a while, while we are looking around to see if our loved one is there.  However, if we think outside the square, and look to our side, that loved one is right beside us forever.  No, not in the physical sense, but their love is so strong that we will feel true love whether it is visible or not.  That love has been bequeathed to us, so that we may pass it on to those that we will leave behind someday. 

If we have truly been loved, and we have truly loved, that love can never die.  That love will simply ignite from us to others around us, if we only pass that love forward.  We owe it to our departed to keep their love alive and to pay it forward, to nurture love and kindness and make this a better world for when our time comes to finally close our eyes. 

So now Alec has left us, we owe it to him to not weep and mourn because he has left us but to be positive, to be out there and rejoice his life, and share the happiness that he so wanted and gave to those around him. 

We look forward to one day catching up with him. But for the next while we must carry on and build memories and love for those that we intern will leave one day. 

Take care, be strong and spread the love!

Always - Ella Fitzgerald 

A Long and Winding Road #bereavement #mourning #deathof love

Just recently, my cousin lost her dad.  This man was strong, loving, and adventurous in his prime. A prime that lasted 9 decades plus a few years.  Yes, they probably had their ups and downs, but the love shone. And that love possessed enough strength to make her loss as keen as the love she found on the day she saw his face for the first time. 

The loss of a loved one at any age can be devastating whether sudden, or prolonged.  However, the longevity of the love can somehow make it more difficult to mourn, as the depth and the memories, strengthen and deepen throughout the years.  The age of the deceased it really doesn't matter. Yes, they have reached a remarkable age, but the loss is nonetheless as shattering as that of a young love. 

However, a love that is craved, a love that is shattered while you are alive, is probably one of the hardest losses that anyone can mourn.  This type of ‘death of love’ is probably one of the most difficult emotions to come to terms with. 

A couple of people I have come to know intimately over the past few months have expressed that ‘death of love’.  The love they craved was really non existent from the one they loved (their mother).  Decades of love wasted. Decades of love emotionally twisted, and blatantly manipulated.  They had given that love, craved that love. Respected love in itself to defend them from what really was a manipulation of the cruelest kind from an evil woman. A woman who only had love for herself and, for her possessions (she considered her children were part of those possessions).  Possessions that could be put aside at her whim, but brought out on display for those to whom she wanted to keep up appearances. 

This woman (for want of a better word) sought and destroyed every bit of JOY that they had, ever collected to comfort and console themselves in their years of loyalty, and love, for this woman.  Every blessed memory of others that they brought to their heart for comfort, was distorted and defaced to prove their dependence on her, and her alone.  No one had value in her mind except for herself only.  She raped their minds from the very day that they were born.  In fact, she made them beg for the crumbs of ‘pretend love’ that she would throw their way.

One day not so long ago, they sat and disclosed the atrocities that she had inflicted on them from birth.  These days turned to weeks, turned to a few months of discussion.  Not one story, that each had been told, was anywhere near the same.  These stories were told to manipulate and to distance each child from the other, so that each child had conflicting angst and anger for their siblings.  This in turn, made the mother the all powerful, the narrator of their lives. 

Things started to make sense finally, dates, times and situations.  Finally 1+1 equaled 2 not one alone as she wants, as singularly it's easier to control.  Things finally started to add up and these people began to realize that their thoughts had been manipulated in order to control them to love, and crave  love in return from this evil woman.  Yes, this woman appears to be a lovely old lady, but in reality she is a nothing better than a serial killer of people and rapist of hearts.  She does not stop.  Sadly she knows what she does, but she continues collecting trophies along the way.  These trophies are people who she will use to defend her atrocities and, once finished being her appointed allies, will dispose of smartly to cover her web of evil. 

These people were born to this woman and, in so doing, were born to love and respect her, never to question the love that they had come to believe was not normal.  This woman was the great dame of deception. Finally after coming to a realization that this was not love and, confronting the demons in their mother, the love that they so sought has been rejected and they are cast to the wolves.  Yes, this is indeed a ‘death of love’.  Yes, their love was not returned. But the love proffered to this woman was as true and as heart felt as my cousin's for her father.  Yes, this is a love that has to be mourned but, it also is a mourning of a love that was given but never returned. 

Sadly, these people have to rebuild their lives as the very foundations on which their love was built never even existed.  We will keep them in our prayers and pray, that Karma may present itself upon this woman as peace will preside over my cousins father.

As you realize by now, most of my life and emotions are governed and controlled by music.  The clip that follows this is how I feel for both scenarios. However, one door is open and the other is closed on their long and winding road.

My sympathies go out to my cousin at this time. My prayers go out to these newly found, intimate friends and from the Latin -  ave atque vale (hail and farewell) Alec. 

Long and Winding Road - George Michael