Tag Archives: truth

Waiting…..

Waiting.

Waiting for my Dad to get home from the pub triumphantly and unsteadily carrying before him his bribe of chocolates and bread-and-cheese.

Waiting for my Mum while she cleaned someone else’s house and I sat in their front room reading, or colouring, or dreaming.

Waiting for the sibling that never arrived.

Waiting for my Dad to get home from work, smelling of tobacco, brickdust, cement, beer.

Waiting for the coach to France to take me to the monastery.

Waiting for the assault to be over.

Waiting for test results.

Waiting for my turn in the bathroom.

Waiting for my soon to be husband to make his mind up.

Waiting for Christmas.

Waiting in the Post Office queue.

Waiting for the sales.

Waiting for the music to start…

…and stop.

Waiting at the vets.

Waiting for the paint to dry.

Waiting for the rejection letter.

Waiting outside the court.

Waiting for the pain to come.

Waiting for the pain to go.

Waiting for my children to be born.

Waiting for my children outside the club/venue/station/school/hall/clinic/university.

Waiting for the phone call.

Waiting for her to speak.

Waiting for him to speak.

Waiting for them to settle down.

Waiting for the kettle to boil.

Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Waiting for the alarm to go off.

Waiting for the letter.

Waiting for my grandchildren to be born.

Waiting to finally grow up.

Waiting for my Dad to die in hospital.

Waiting for my Mum to die in hospital.

Waiting by the graveside.

Waiting for the ferry.

Waiting.

Waiting for the waiting to be over.

 

 

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Go Ahead, Read Some Poetry

I fell over a Walter de la Mare anthology a few days ago in my local library, a newly printed hay-smelling glossy pristine book full of his poetry. As I read I felt and smelled the time I discovered him. A child who spent more time in the library than in bed, I had pulled an old, huge, purple book off a shelf and tumbled into the musty smelling beating heart of beauty that was Walter de la Mares poetry, and which created my own love of poetry, a love that has never left me, let me down, smelled of sweat, ignored me, snatched the covers off me in Winter, trivialised me or in any way disappointed me. I remember my first de la Mare poem better than I remember my first step, first kiss, first boiled egg. My tastes changed over the years until I finally realised that my poetic needs simply morph with where I am and who I am at any given time, it isn’t about taste.

And we have Simon Armitage, Danny Abse, Heaney, Haddon, Ginsberg, Corso, Cassady, Whitman, Angelou, Neruda……so many and so much beauty, challenge, wonder. Please, read some poetry, wander into it and out the other side a better person. Or at least a person who has had some fun.

 

Here is some Neruda. You are welcome.

If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda
I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine

Reality? Are you serious?

Having recently experienced, as a relatively inoffensive sort of cove,  being blocked on social media by a couple of determinedly and avowedly  right wing chums I have reflected on how we choose our interactions, especially in our modern media-managed culture. I am very carefully neither right wing nor left wing – I think that party politics is part of the problem, not part of the solution. That leaves me free to admire or dislike policies from wherever I like without concern for dogma or loyalty, which is probably a good thing but some seem to find it a challenging concept.

Here’s the thing: thinking that the way wealth is currently distributed is inappropriate and damaging does not make me a communist any more than thinking a hand up not a hand out is the best approach makes me a Tory. And they are not mutually exclusive. My circle of chums is exceptionally diverse and through having conversations with all of them I have been able to – and continue to – challenge myself and my circle and think things through. My thoughts have changed considerably over time largely because I have had the brilliant opportunity to talk to so many, so many different, people with such a wide scope of views. It is quite possible to find Marine Le Pen charming and bright and bang on with some things, ditto Tony Benn when he was still here, and not have to clap on a pair of  left or right wings as a result. Really.  I have a lovely chum who is so right wing he falls off the edge and he is charming, bright, funny and has made me think, and has caused me to change my mind about more than a few things in the past few years. Yes, Barry, I am looking at you. And another achingly hip and alternative left winger who frustrates me to bits but who has also made me think and develop my ideas.

I have blocked a few people in my time, but always and only for abusive behaviour. It would have been a terrible loss to me not to have the chance to discuss things with people with fresh or complex ideas. The ones I have blocked have taken their interesting or complex ideas and made them into belligerent tools with which to hurt other people. Dogma and extremism are the enemies of humanity and taken to their conclusion have supported the development of tyranny and terrorism across the world. Wow. Blocking people certainly escalated quickly….

I suppose it is that microcosm of social media expanded to a global level that fascinates. Social media has so many advantages – the chance to meet people we might otherwise not meet, to share and engage, to see more of the worlds stage and understand it, to learn, to reach out. It also has its dark side – the trolling, the abuse and death threats, the groups that seek each other out in order to perpetuate and stoke their hatred, who urge violence and disorder. Nothing is off limits now. We see events happening in real time but through the lens of the people bringing them to us, not in reality. The BBC News teams, reduced in recent times to simple readers of entertainment rather than the joyously independent and courageous journalists of old, choose to show us their own version of events usually accompanied by sad or emotive music, while dragging the emotions out of victims of crime asking ever more intrusive questions and encouraging people to “tell us how you feel, you must feel awful/angry/gutted/whatever” for our enjoyment and gratification, not happy until a tear has been shed on air. The use of words and pictures in newscasting has become propaganda rather than literate – saying terrorists are “inspired by” with positive connotations rather than indoctrinated as they are, or  the use of the same tired old pictures of zimmer frames in items about older people, fat bottoms in jeans walking away from us in items about obesity, blurred faces dragging on cigarettes or hands holding cigarettes in items about smoking or poverty or addiction or anything else that might be a bit working class. News? Not really. And that gives people with something to hide an opportunity to hide behind the “fake news” barrier and cherry pick their own versions of events and present them as reality. Reality…..as in Big Brother? Or The Only Way is Essex? Or The Apprentice….? Or what is happening outside your own front door every day…….

So, this doggedly non partisan contributor urges caution. Listen, reflect, embrace. Question, even if it means you are rejected.  There is a bit of fabulous in everyone. Maybe I should mourn the loss of the people who blocked me…or perhaps I should not have blocked the abusive ones but should have tried to engage with them. But perhaps after all life is too short. Social media offers an opportunity not just to discuss and gossip but to make a difference, to join with others to change lives and reach out. Losing a few “chums” in order to do that is probably a sacrifice worth making.

Smell the coffee, make a difference

If you click the picture a charming video plays. Please take a couple of minutes to watch. I think this makes an effective point, and one with which I agree. These days I make sure to spend time smelling the coffee, so to speak. For years I rushed, head down, trying to do good stuff. When my parents died I realised how much I had missed and how much I had made other people miss in my hurry to be good. In my hurry to be good I had been, perhaps, less effective. Now I take time to sit on my front steps and watch the birds in the sky and listen to their songs; I watch people as they hurry by, perhaps missing things too; I watch the clouds and wonder how to paint them properly and then go and try; I smell the earth. I still make a difference sometimes, and still try to be good: I work doing things I believe in with people I admire and respect, but I don’t do it exclusively any more. I also choose words for stories, colours for paintings, actually hear the music I am playing. My life is the better for it and I think I make a better difference now. Working smarter not harder is a cliche, but it is a cliche because it makes sense. I just wanted to share the point…If you have some interesting work, let me know. I am your woman.

 

Truth, Society and Your Organisation

Orwell was clearly talking about Society as our Social Support System when he wrote this: the sociological, economic and cultural fabric that enables our community to function. Or not.

The similarities between our Society and our Organisations is striking and not a surprise to those who study and work within Organisations and find their structures and interactions fascinating. Well run, achieving, functioning Organisations remain grounded in truth and honesty, unafraid to have – or to hear –  difficult conversations, and they foster Trust and Openness. The further an Organisation strays from that ideal, the less it functions and the less it achieves. There is a cost to avoiding honesty, to shooting the messenger, and an arrogant Organisation that forgets these principles or becomes lazy in upholding them risks losing the qualities that maintain success. I wrote a piece recently about Trust and Confidentiality. These are assets in an innovative, achieving, developing organisation. Without them it is all smoke and mirrors.

Some businesses lose their underpinning values as they gain in achievements and their bottom line expands – there is the drive to acquire, to develop and to grow, and the time available to devote to Values and Principles diminishes –  or appears to. In reality that is the very time the Organisation should retain control of those V&Ps – if they slip away too far it will impact the business, will strip away the very tools that can maintain and nourish.

Devote time and energy to your Values and Principles. Hear the truth even if it hurts. Remember what it is that keeps you sailing and keeps you from drowning. Remember: if you stop people talking about the real issues, if you prevent good people from sharing their good ideas, it is the loss of the Organisation. Literally.

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