2016- New beginnings

We Brits live for chattering about the weather. We've had a very warm Winter thus far with temperatures in the teens and constant rain. Today on my walk in the countryside, it was minus 1, the ground was frozen underfoot and the frost was biting through my thermal socks. Every fellow walker I came upon said the same thing: "At last! Proper Winter!" Ours is an evergreen optimism which in spite of everything, never fades. A winter should be cold not some halfway soggy, warm imposter. And despite the grey skies we remain eternally optimistic.

Optimism, that great word which conjures up hopeless and hapless individuals endowed with little else or one who merely sees hope as a type of blessing. We were hoping for a real winter and so when it arrives, we are very grateful. We were hoping that things should be as they are meant to be. We are used to the cycle of nature and the seasons which symbolise beginnings and endings.

A New Year is upon us- what type of year do you wish for? One of beginnings or endings? Many will start the year grasping at resolutions and convictions soon to be abandoned into the slush pile of living. (Resolutions, like diets, don't work because our stamina and resolve eventually collapse.) Others will carry on as normal, or rather, will continue to live their version of the truth, a type of reality they have created for themselves, which they use as a shield because they simply do not want to face who and what they have become. Many more will stay in miserable relationships or in jobs they hate and will flee from their reflection in the mirror. I know quite a few people who have voluntarily become mentally comatose because they do not have the courage to face their reality.

Spring, that other new beginning, will soon follow winter. An acorn does not require courage to germinate into a sapling or even to grow into a mighty oak. Humans, on the other hand, require an inordinate amount of bravery to merely survive. Strength to overcome obstacles, bravery in our beliefs and values which are our own and not just the latest trend, courage to accept the things we cannot change. It takes remarkable fortitude to say: "This is who I am. I know who I am and I will not be swayed."

In a world where at the touch of a finger we can have access to  the latest news or gossip, it is very easy to become addicted to the lust for more. More. More. We mistake vacuous celebrities as trendsetters and innovators. even politicians behave like Hollywood actors these days, heroes in their own scripts. We live in an age where it is nigh impossible at times to distinguish truth from fiction. And we're not supposed to go a little nuts? Yes, we can be forgiven for losing our way- that is also the human condition.

Along comes a new year with all its promise of new starts, new hope. The human spirit is designed to triumph in adversity. If we call upon our bravery we can become indomitable and invincible. Brave enough to make the right decisions, strong enough to find out who we are. Today begins the journey of a lifetime.

Happy New Year, everyone!

Photo copyright SvD.

Less tackiness please, we're British.

This Christmas I hardly made a fuss- I ate frugally and spent a lot of time lying in bed- mostly because I had a terrible cold/flu and didn't have much energy. On Christmas Day I dragged myself to mass and was amazed to see how some parishioners had chosen to dress: leggings and a tight jumper stopping helpfully at the waist so that the gaze rested on a country-sized derriere. Mini skirts, fishnet tights and diving decolletages replete with overflowing embonpoint- if you fancied a bit of South Pole exploration, some of those necklines were certainly headed in the right direction. I always feel sorry for the priest when he gives communion to ...a pair of breasts. It used to be that attending mass on big occasions like Christmas, Easter, Advent etc which are all profound events in the christian calender, one would be sure to look demure and dignified. The thought of flashing skin and flesh was completely frowned upon. Nowadays anything goes in the way of dressing and behaving- a couple  flirted madly last Sunday in church; they arrived separately and left that way too but the temptation of  making doe eyes at each other while clutching a rosary clearly proved too much.

Tackiness is so widespread and prevalent in all walks of life from the lower working class all the way up to the highest echelons in society. I blame Charles and Diana who famously went public with their very personal problems. Since then the Great British Resolve to 'never complain and never explain' and to maintain a very stiff upper lip at all times seem to have all but disappeared from our daily lives. It is now completely acceptable to whinge ad nauseum, be rude and obnoxious and to show a complete lack of disrespect and consideration- cue to dressing like one is going to a nightclub when attending mass or worse yet, looking like one has literally rolled out of bed.

The mantra of so-called busy people who in fact are too rude and selfish to find time for others has become the norm. We all have that so-called friend who hasn't bothered to be in touch for months but rings up blithely on Christmas Eve, oblivious to the fact that their behaviour is wrong. I have now gotten to the point in my life where there are no words- once I fall silent the relationship is stone, cold dead. No amount of coaxing will bring it back to life. All we have is the present moment and if we allow others to treat us as if they can make up for their roughshod disregard in some distant future and one that most certainly will only suit them, then we should not complain about our hurt emotions.

Tackiness is not just the way you dress, it's also the way you think. Over Christmas I decided to watch TV- something I never, ever do but the house where I was staying had a gigantic TV in the living room and I thought I would vegetate in front of it. Now you have to understand that I never sit idly still as I am always doing something: writing, reading, walking, cooking, working, housework (which I enjoy). The instances in my life where I do nothing at all are few and far between and usually occur like this holiday season when I was too ill to do much else. I don't own a TV having thrown it out many years ago. This Christmas I remembered why I had: television is a mind fuck. The quality of the programmes is such low level nonsense designed for cretins. Listening to mindless, dumbed-down drivel aimed at those who clearly are grammatically and phonetically challenged filled me with such revulsion that afterwards my head actually ached. I can think of no worse torture than to be forced to watch television day in, day out. To see these so-called celebrities who do not have any real talent now passing themselves off as role models who teenage girls all want to emulate, fills me with a terrible dread. Would a show on philosophy or the meaning of life have an audience at all? Does anyone ask themselves BIG questions anymore?

We should all be concerned when we live in an age of mind-blowing stupidity and ignorance. Despite our wealth and the convenience which fools us into believing anything is possible, the soul life is what makes us want to become better people- kinder, more thoughtful, more concerned for our fellow human beings and most importantly, more interested in the world.

Britain used to be great- in a sense it was austerity, deprivation and simplicity that spawned great minds and made us masters of ingenuity and innovation. Could it be that we have too much now to see those glory days again?

Photo copyright SvD.

So, this is Christmas

2015 has been a strange and in many ways, terrifying year. The Medusa of terrorism became a dreaded and unpredictable enemy. The Euro almost succumbed to racketeering and defaulting on Mickey Mouse loans (condoned at the highest level) and as it teetered on the edge, hundreds of thousands were forced into a poverty they had never imagined. Barbaric killing and destruction wrecked ancient civilsations probably for good.The world appeared at times to be slowly falling apart and for many, daily life became a nightmare of chaos and worry. In several countries today people are being displaced or impoverished by someone else's decision or recklessness.

This Christmas my desire to celebrate is muted. I have very little need for material possessions and hardly wish to buy anything; part of getting older is not feeling compelled to keep accumulating and to ask "Do I need it?". I am also haunted by the image of the starving, displaced refugee or the victims of pointless wars, whose homes, livelihoods and possessions have been reduced to rubble. There are economic casualties as well- the Greeks for example- and worst of all there are also too many in this life who have nothing. Not one possession even that belongs to them.. In the West our lives are filled with things: to do, possessions, mementos, trinkets, bric-à-brac, the latest fashion etc. but for some, a plastic bag to wrap only a faded memory is a great luxury.

Now that Christmas is upon us with all it's excessive, Bacchanalian over-indulgence, it is necessary to remember what this time will mean for those who have nothing. Victims of war or economic deprivation will have very little to celebrate. When they wake up on Christmas Day, they will still be covered in the grime of poverty and exclusion.. As we settle down to our Christmas feast, those who are less fortunate will be staring probably at an empty plate. Or a family of six may have to share a single egg. The homeless or displaced, those with literally nowhere to call home, will find their annihilation all the more heart-breaking. In the UK, homelessness has risen by  an average of 6% per year since the financial crisis of 2008. Contrary to popular belief, it isn't just alcoholics or drug users who end up becoming homeless but people who lose their jobs and can no longer pay their rent or mortgage. In other words, people like you and me.

I knew a former MD of his own company who was forced to close his business but then found it hard to ever get a job paying the equivalent of what he used to earn. At times he stopped looking for work altogether and was often broke. Lucky for him, his father would hand out the cash whenever he needed it. To this day, the gentleman in question now in his forties, relies on financial help from his parents who instead of judging him, support him because they love him. Not everyone is so blessed. We all know someone, for example, who has no family. No mother or father or brother or sister. The elderly especially, fall into this category of lonely souls.

Until one has experienced deprivation and hardship, it is too difficult to understand what others have gone through in their lives.. We would perhaps have a different attitude to our own baseless worries if we were fleeing persecution or if we had no money, friends or the support of loved ones.

In my humble opinion, Christmas has turned into a spectacle where we worship the wrong things and create a false impression of who we are and what really matters. The best Christmas is surely the one where our hearts are at peace.

As a family-less person, I have grown used to Christmas on my own. This year I shall do what I normally do on December 25th- go to church, walk my hound across a chilly landscape and give thanks for having everything I need.

Homo, qui in homine calamitoso est misericors, meminit sui. A man who is merciful to a fellow man in calamity, remembers what is due himself.- Roman proverb.

Merry Christmas.

Photo copyright SvD.

Take off that veil and integrate

The horror of yet another gun attack by the so-called disenfranchised aka terrorists as a couple in America go on their deadly rampage. The media provides important information on their pasts- one born in the States, one born in Pakistan. Despite his Western upbringing, the husband imports and marries an ultra-conservative Muslim. I can't get my head around these people who are born in the West but for some unfathomable reason hanker for their roots to such an extent that they reject the values, traditions and customs of the First World. If I am completely honest and this is very un-PC, I find the whole thing quite vile. I am not being a snob or a racist in making such a statement but I do not understand how immigrants can show the finger to their hosts by enjoying all the benefits of living in the West (such as the simple luxury of having potable water running in the taps, good medical care, public transport etc) and yet refusing to assimilate.

There is a very disparaging description used by blacks to criticise their ilk who adopt Western thinking: coconut- black on the outside, white on the inside. Such a criticism is complete and utter garbage- what way should British-born blacks behave? Should they join a gang and perpetuate the stereotype? Those who have West Indian parents probably find it the easiest to integrate given the colonial history of the British-speaking Caribbean but to always point the finger and declare that one is defined by one's skin colour is just plain ignorant.

Obama and Oprah Winfrey are both black and they have excelled in a country that is supposedly anti-black. Oprah's childhood was dirt poor and she grew up in the deep south of America- she could not have been more disadvantaged if she had tried! I'm no fan of Oprah Winfrey (or Obama for that matter) but you have to admire her for what she has achieved. She certainly doesn't run around in a boubou (traditional African Kaftan) spouting back-to-her-roots rhetoric. Instead she recently posted photos of her Thanksgiving celebrations (a feast first introduced in the 17th century by white pilgrims - immigrants - in America) because she defines herself as American albeit African American.

There is no doubt that immigration has benefitted the West- today many of our ancestors came from somewhere else- Barbra Streisand, Albert Einstein, Lucien Freud, Henry Kissinger, Steven Speilberg are the descendants of Jews fleeing persecution. Steve Jobs was the son of an immigrant. Immigration by definition is about wanting a better life. Arnold Schwarzenegger famously chose the US over his native Austria.  I've been to Austria on walking holidays and my parents enjoyed their honeymoon in Innsbruck. Austria is a heavenly place where cultural identity is very strong- women and men still wear traditional costumes and anyone who has eaten the popular liver dumplings is unlikely to forget them easily.

When I'm in Austria or any other country for that matter, I can't wait to try the food and the booze - in Austria, the herb-infused schnappes is invigorating and therapeutic. In America I am particularly fond of Miami and the Cuban restaurants. In France I order a good Bordeaux with a bloody entrecôte. In the UK I enjoy a bacon sandwich on white bread with brown sauce. When in Rome one must behave like a Roman. I had hoped to go to Syria where the cuisine is/was renowned and ironically a combination of Mediterranean, Turkish and Persian flavours (in other words, influenced by those who settled there over hundreds of years).

What I object to is the insularity of immigrants and sadly, the government has little idea of how some ethnic groups in the UK simply refuse to integrate. There are two arguments here: liberals will say that we should facilitate those fleeing persecution etc. but the discussion seems to end once these refugees are given leave to remain. The other argument is that immigrants should simply dive in to their host country. My suggestion is that anyone who wishes to live in the UK, for example, must speak fluent English and they should be tested before being granted residency. It is also completely unacceptable to dress in traditional attire- the old country is now exactly that- a place that belongs to the past. There are countries in the world where Muslims and Christians live in harmony- Trinidad, for example- where Western attire is the norm in everyday life and when attending the mosque and church in equal measure. To my knowledge, neither group has attacked the other and begun a war.

The issue of identity has something to do with religion, yes, but also much more- having a job, being useful in society and forging an identity which everyone regardless can be proud of. Furthermore Britain is a Christian country- thousands of years of history and our peculiar offshoot of Catholicism, the Church of England, have led us here. This is a country of spires where we used to celebrate religious holidays instead of 'bank' holidays. Our culture has created some of the most unforgettable literature, art, music some of which has shaped the way we live now. Did you know that our royal family popularised decorating fir trees to celebrate Christmas? And it was an Englishman, Henry Cole, who sent the first Christmas Card in 1843? At the same time Charles Dickens', already a celebrated and hugely popular author, published A Christmas Carol, which one could say, paved the way for an entirely new market celebrating Christmas in all its sentimentality.

I am not entirely sure that politicians understand how to cope or deal with the terrifying prospect that awaits us with the rise of extremism. I doubt politicians have a clue what extremism actually is- the belief that immigrants are disenfranchised is too convenient. The monumental failure in my opinion is what politicians didn't do. We are at a crossroads where the rot has set in- cue to the terrible attacks taking place around the world. Yes, we have rights and I wouldn't wish for totalitarian rule where our every move is scrutinized- I was lucky to visit East Germany before the wall came down and saw what happens when people are forced to live in fear. But we simply cannot go on the way things are now hoping it will improve. Hoping that terrorists will take a happy pill and stop wanting to kill us. The Far Right is gaining ground in France. We are literally running out of time.

Photo copyright SvD.

 

 



What your ability to love says about you

The latest attacks in Paris are a perfect example of  those filled with hatred instead of love. In a world where every news item is literally about death and destruction, it is hard to imagine John Lennon's world 'living as one'. The opposite of hatred is love, not self love but an altogether altruistic type of love. Love of others and their well being, doing things out of love and not expecting reward, being a person whose actions are always an expression of love. Romantic love is what we see in the movies but we forget that  love is a verb - to love- not a noun- self-love.

When people do bad things they are metaphorically screaming at the top of their lungs that they hate life and everyone in it. It is easy to become bitter, twisted and spiteful when things don't go our way or when others hurt and offend us but the truth is human beings are born with an innate ability to love. We smile unlike other species and we laugh. We feel things emotionally which we express verbally and physically but the process of deciphering thoughts and emotion is again unique to humans. Our brains are wired to experience sensory pleasure- food, sex, even titillating the brain through humour. Our make up enables us to love and hate in equal measure but choosing love over hatred takes wisdom and understanding. It is also surprisingly simple. Have you smiled recently at a complete stranger? Have you offered to help someone find their lost dog? Have you asked the disabled gentleman in a wheelchair wanting to cross the road if you can help him? Have you stopped to ask that young lady weeping on a park bench if she's OK? In other words, have you extended yourself to others out of love for your fellow human beings?

Although loving is simple, having the courage to do so is harder. We are all dancing as fast as we can while juggling the requirements of being employee, boss, mother, father, lover, mentor, tutor, friend, the list goes on. Many times, we hurry on past others claiming we are too busy to stop- the word 'busy' a convenient excuse for not caring enough to enquire after another or even spend five minutes exchanging pleasantries however pointless they might seem. Just chatting about the weather may be the only conversation that little old lady has had all day. Twenty-first century living has turned us into selfish egomaniacs where we place ourselves at the center of the universe. We are the axis on which the world turns and we treat everyone as a convenience who we discard at will like the packaging of our ready-made pizza. The rank disregard that we show others is why hatred has taken prime position on a world scale. We have grown so used to dispatching each other as we prioritise what we consider important that along the way, the cancer of hatred has metastasised. There will come a time when we may not even remember what love is. Those people already exist and they're making a very sick point by hurting others: that they don't care enough to stop, that they have forgotten how to love.

When we stop being able to love we abandon what it is to be human.We are already becoming dehumanised as we are already essentially desensitised to perversity and violence: television and feature films are becoming more explicit in an excess of everything in order to satiate audiences worldwide. What was once taboo is now the norm. Makers of commercial films know their audiences and what they want to see. Is it any wonder that some of the highest grossing movie franchises in recent years that none of them is about love? Look at the stratospheric popularity of violent video games, for example, beloved by lonely, young men the world over.  Children freely watch pornography which has replaced cartoons before the school run. There is a certain inevitability from using TV to control a restless child and for that child to equate an absence of independent thought with real life. Not only is our lust for instant gratification a form of hunger, the more we give in to it, the more we crave it.

If we want a better world, we need to re-learn how to carry out random acts of love. Smile. Say nice things only. Say hello and thank you as if it were the mantra to change the world. Offer to help even if the stress and inconvenience will mess up our plans. Extend ourselves beyond our personal bubble. Let others in. Listen to their stories. To love is to admire and marvel at every human experience, to see past ourselves for once. In the process of acting out of love, we can strike gold- that perfect balance borne out of love is peace. The whole world needs love now and more than ever. So what are we waiting for?

The sweetest irony in offering love is that we find ourselves in the process. A calmness and refusal to be enslaved by strong emotions, gimmickry, harmful ideology or false prophets overwhelms a peaceful mind- the utopia that we seek our entire lives is actually who we were always meant to be.

 Woldingham, Surrey. A most perfect place. Photo copyright SvD.

Why social media is helping terrorists

Think back to the Great War in 1914-1918. News of victories, or the advance of invading armies was relayed by word of mouth or newspapers. A son, father, uncle, lover could have been killed and their loved ones would not know for several weeks, perhaps even months. The war was conducted far enough for the wives, sisters, children and elderly parents to carry on at least a semblance to their old lives. Today, war is a very different animal. Insidious and concealed behind a veil of religion where the interpretation of faith is not the wisest or most erudite. And the impulsiveness of today's fast food generation who want everything immediately is demonstrated by the way terrorists and war mongers use social media. They brag about their brutal and hideous 'achievements' and find a receptive audience with the least effort imaginable.

Thirty years ago when my generation was still typing letters on carbon copies and telex was considered rapid communication, it was wholly unimaginable to conceive of the carnage that the internet and social media would facilitate. While the arrival of the internet opened up vistas and growth possibilities to companies and enabled communication to become more or less instantaneous, no one could have known then how a technological innovation could become a deadly Medusa. There is a debate to be had on whether Twitter, You Tube, Facebook, should be shut down in order to stop the madder species literally dead in their tracks. Without an audience how could they boast about blowing up priceless relics or beheading their zillionth victim or bringing down a passenger jet full of families and children?

Sadly, social media and the internet also serves the purpose of the powers that be, to disseminate information in order to wag the dog. Not to mention the lefties who will march through the streets complaining about their rights to have their ego massaged - who would they be after all, without a selfie? What is the worth of a man or woman these days who doesn't desperately require attention without which they would simply not exist. My point exactly.

Photo copyright SvD.

How what could have been ruins the present

There are moments in our lives when we reflect whimsically upon the past- some are more prone than others to reminisce ad nauseum about a time when everything was better and to dwell on gilded, embellished memories. The truth is the past is a wildly foreign place- one where our recollection of the things we did and the rules we lived by are seen badly through the dense fog of time.

Recent events in Paris led me to amble down nostalgia lane and wonder about ex-boyfriends, whether they had been affected and if they were OK. I also found myself thinking what my life would had been like if I had actually married them. Strangely and perhaps I am hopelessly fickle but I concluded that I probably wouldn’t even still find them attractive anymore. It did however lead me to ask:

As we look behind us did our lives turn out the way we thought they would? And if we were able to revisit our past would we return as we are now or at the age we were then? I'd definitely want to go back in my current mental state; in other words I'd look like the twenty-something year old I was then but with the sabre-like clarity of mind I have now. Had I been this wise at twenty-five, my life would have been very different. I would have been a lot more ruthless and self-serving in the decisions I made, particularly professionally and hell, even romantically. I would have understood straight away that when men say ‘I love you’, they are not always telling the truth which would have in turn spared me a lot of childish anxiety. I would have put myself first and toppled all the other pieces on life's chessboard around me to the ground. I would also have certainly been more ambitious and single-minded about my future.

Ironically, what could have been is not about missing the chance to become more loving or kinder but about the self and its ego; when we look back, the centre of our vision is what we could have done to make our lives easier and eradicate the obstacles and challenges (and pain) we had to endure.  Yet and in spite of all the 'bad' things we have had to experience, it is a combination of what could have been, maybe even what we had secretly hoped for and what was, which have brought us to our current reality. Therefore it is better to forget that old question of whether we would change anything we did in the past of if we regret what we did.

Part of the process of getting old is becoming wiser and I would argue that any part of our lives where we wallow in grief about the past is not only obviously futile but also shows a distinct lack of understanding. Furthermore what could have been is essentially what we wished we had done but our desires then and in the very real present, the now, are completely different. A friend once confessed how much he regretted not becoming a lawyer. He used the excuse that his wife hated him attending night class when she wanted them to spend time together instead. And then children came along. When I asked him how his life would have been different had he become a lawyer, he gave the obvious response: that he would have been wealthier. And to his dying day he would speak about the money he would have made had he followed his dream.  He never really resolved within his mind the decision he had made and so it tormented him throughout  his entire life. Another example, would be the men we rejected simply because we weren’t sufficiently in love. Or in my case, maddeningly, crazily, passionately, mind-blowingly in love, which was the only scale of love I knew. There are moments now when I wish I hadn’t been so capricious because as women up and down the land will tell you, it's hard to find an intelligent, sane, available man these days.  (Women my age have a better chance of being abducted by aliens.)

The expectations of youth and the second half of a life are completely at polar opposites; love is no longer the burning firecracker it once was but rather a more gentle philosophical union of mind, body and spirit. The blush and earnestness of one’s ‘salad days’ are replaced by fewer but more implacable demands borne of a jaded awareness that affection often comes disguised as emotional slavery. And yes, as one gets older, a desire for peace and tranquillity is more alluring than the cacophony of sensory madness.

In the end, when we look at the years which have gone by, and it seems in the blink of an eye, only a wise man would readily admit that we brought about our own punishments in this life. It wasn't always the hand of fate that guided us as we sometimes shot for the stars and missed. Our own choices dictated the way our lives turned out whether for better or worse. Yet, I say this: there is no shame in dreaming, wanting and wishing or grasping the short straw. A wise man ought to suffer the punishment for the wrong choices with grace. Indeed he would be grateful that what could have been never happened. 

 

Photo copyright SvD.