Mysteriously Underachieving

There is only one word for this here blog - disgrace. One gets the impression that nothing noteworthy happens EVER.

The year's almost over. Have you achieved anything? At ALL?

Well... no, not really. So?
Looking fab all day is hard work, too.

Perhaps a bit of a soul search is in order: are you leading the life that you want, REALLY want? If not, perhaps you should dare to ask further. Possibly along the lines of: WHY THE HELL NOT?!

And Just When You Thought

Did I really say "Why bloody bother?" yesterday?

I did, didn't I. But not before I had a little rant about trying to bring on change WITHIN me and failing.

And POOF - there magically appeareth wisdom in the shape of Mr Pinto on http://intentblog.com/transformations/ and sets me straight once more. But probably not once and for all.

Can I just point out that we are again treading the floors of the house of Impatience. It's where I live in case you had not noticed. It's where I stomp my feet and yell at the top of my lungs BUT I WANT IT NOW! So it was this time with trying to achieve the brilliant feat of (drumroll!): becoming a better person in just 10 hours.

And yes, I KNOW - change does not come easy and despite popular belief kindled by all things advertising it DOES NOT come over night!
Yet do I take a deep breath and stay centred and aware of my actions, words, and thoughts and thus go about my day? Doing so in the knowledge that I will not master this kind of behaviour any time soon but shall persevere nonetheless?

Hello?! Of course not.
I rush right in like a proper fool, as it were. And like a fool I get ahead of myself and at the end of the day I - yup, that's right, like a fool - wonder at myself when I look at the day gone by and find so many moments I could have reacted, behaved differently. Sometimes I cringe.
Ok, I cringe a lot actually.

Perhaps I should wear a sign that asks the innocent passer-by: Please tell me to bite my tongue.
Oh, I hear vows of silence are back in vogue. Boy, I REALLY should get one!

But back to Mr. Pinto and Transformation. One cannot help but feel that it all sounds familiar, that one actually knows these things somehow, almost instinctively. Not because it's trite but because (and here I go again) in our darkest heart of hearts we know this. Still, the simplicity in which he explains what happens with us in times of personal change I find quite touching. It's also a little frightening. But again, I do believe that's to do with the fact that deep knowledge, perhaps long denied, is surfacing. If it is not pushed down again, for convenience's sake and because we do not truly wish change to come.

The fact that I know about my impatience while lacking awareness in the moment when I am getting frantic/edgy/antsy/brusque even, paired with the feeling of remorse for certain things said/done/thought,does tell a simple tale. The tale of the quick fire gun. As long as I behave like one such thing I will inevitably limit myself, my possible outcomes, I may jeopardise my ability and that of others to grow and learn and fulfill my/their potential.
Because clearly you cannot un-shoot a gun, you cannot put the bullet back into the barrel, can you now.

(Does visualisation work? Anyone?)

So, Pinto writes that transformation can only happen when one is ready to leave the past behind and "begin anew". Bringing about change within yourself, in your way of thinking and behaving, putting yourself in situations/positions you have never been in, would perhaps never have chosen before. Looking at the world through different eyes.

And so I seem to be stuck in a bit of a rut with my impatience-thing - it's perhaps a bit of a crutch you could say - as long as I can blame my impatience, I don't have to face change. I can simply rely on that to provide an excuse so I don't have to change myself, to strive for a different way of life.
Or in other words - the House of Impatience has become rather comfortable over the years. Too much so.

Question is, will I make my way out in time, or will I not even find the bloody door?

Well, here's what I think is happening. I leave the House of Impatience regularly. Every day in fact. Some days I wander off for miles, like I never intend to come back. Some days I find it hard to actually walk through the garden gate and never stray too far.

Perhaps what is needed - and THAT is indeed becoming a pattern in my life, too - is balance.
Holding not just "my" ground but a healthy middle ground between my weaknesses and strengths. And with a bit of practice and luck and patience and goodwill maybe I even find that what I thought was "bad" is not really but just something that helps me change. And if I really go all out then perhaps I can even try to be thankful for the blessings that have not yet come to pass.

Oh go on then, the ones in bloomin' disguise, too.

Reminiscing

March 2nd, 2007 I wrote the following in a little black notebook:

"Two deer in the garden this morning.
Dad found the troll ear again.

In terms of ickle things this certainly has been a good day. A very good day, indeed.

The tiny gestures of life.
Life holding out its hand, inviting one...

All could be so wonderful - is, I suppose. Yet, at times it becomes hard to recognise or see.

Focus gets blurry, the lense milky.
Tired pupils from all too much insanity and ugliness manmade.

If we could just leave all this behind and out and concentrate on the vital issue of things that truly matter.
And it certainly is not a matter of definition what vital or true may be!

I saw a young couple today; her left hand was bound and his right.
I wondered what might have happened to them.
Maybe they bumped into something while they were holding hands, looking into each other's eyes?"

P.S. as to the troll ear: 
It was Christmas 2006, my dad and I had gone out into the woods to gather branches, moss, and fallen leaves, holly and ivy, rosehip, all sorts of things.  It is a family tradition that every year under the Christmas tree or near by it one of us would created a landscape in which Mary and Joseph hold Baby Jesus, across which the shepherds guide their flocks and across which also - although in the far distance - the Three Kings can be seen making their way slowly towards the manger.
For the creation of such landscape - which could be rather elaborate - you needed "material" which we either found in our garden or if we had more time and bigger plans, in the woods outside of town.
That year, my dad and I took our time carefully testing whatever we found in nature for use-ability in our grand scheme.
We had several baskets already full and were now looking for moss to be cut at the very last moment so it would last longer. There was moss growing on the bark of trees. There was moss covering the ground. There was plenty to go around. My father had begun to collect tree bark that had fallen off while I was busy gathering moss when, I don't remember who saw them first, we discovered tiny mushrooms growing around the feet of the trees. Some of them had spread out like the moss and crept up along the bark. 
They had funny shapes and looked a little like Shitake mushrooms to be honest. There was one on a tree trunk that resembled a tiny tiny ear. Not a human ear but the ear of a magic creature... After all, we were deep in the woods. 
No sounds, just the dripping of raindrops and our breathing - clearly, magic was in the air.
We took the "ear" with us. We told no one. But it was understood that WAS a troll's ear.
My dad carefully put it in a little air-tight container, labelled it like some kind of science project which always made me laugh. But somehow he misplaced it after Christmas and it was only that second day in March that he found it again.
I had called that day to tell him of the deer and how their silent grace, their elegance moved me so much that morning. I knew only he could fully appreciate that. 
And we both laughed at the lost and found troll's ear.

Only now I fully realise how behind so many things we say daily, we jot down, we let out carelessly, there is always a little story. A little something that makes it right, that places it neatly into the fabric of our lives and maybe that of others', too.