Do A Good Deed Anonymously.

Do a good dead. Anonymously.

Why do we do things for others?

When they ask? When some rich well known person gets up on television and asks? When you see the bin for tins for the poor?

When I was in grade 3 I saw the Jerry Lewis Telethon and while the parents were still in bed I was off going door to door asking for donations and when they finally roused from their sleep, we drove down and dumped it into the big glass bowl.

There was no one reading out a pledge, patting me on the back or admiring my hutzpah for going out and doing that (in fact the step dad was grumpy, tired and grumbled all the way down to drop the money off).

It was the feeling of doing something, small, for someone else.

Cities have grown bigger, people are physically closer together, so they seek any distance and privacy they can get from others and…

…we all dwell in a cramped hothouse of desperate isolation.

This week I have been struggling with a back issue that is having a very pronounced affect on everything, from numbness in my hands/arms to knees giving out for no obvious reason, along with never ending pain in the lower back.

The visit to the walk-in clinic I will go through later.

We had some nasty weather, wrecked havoc on trees, increased the amount of water flowing in rivers and made the birds walk instead of fly for a couple days.

Next door, the lady had done her grass just before the storm hit, and she has a lovely big tree in her yard, so after the storm passed her yard was full of downed branches, twigs and sticks.

After a few days Precious and I decided to clean up her yard.

We both picked up branches, sticks and twigs, piling them off to the side for easy removal however she wished to do it.

Precious enjoyed it, she has always loved sticks.

I do not really know the neighbor, other than she works long hours, and part of me did imagine someone might mind another person picking up downed branches in their yard.

We completed our task, finished our walk and continued on with our week.

Last night I wrote down the new job listings for another neighbor, who I know is looking for a job but does not have a computer in house and has to go to the job center.

Tucked the note into his front door, unsigned.

Again, he might mind receiving notes with possible job leads, or he might appreciate the heads up days before he could go check at the office in person.

Non judgmental, as I do not care who works where, doing what, as long as no one gets hurt and your happy.

I know he is a decent fellow who pats my dog on occasion and ignores her flurry of barking demands for attention at others, which I heartily approve of, she will learn that she won’t get attention that way.

Nothing big, no one is going to say thank you but perhaps it made someone’s day a little easier.

People lost the desire to be kind to each other somewhere along the way the sentence “what do I get out of it?” became more important than being a good person or even an outlying part of the community.

Religion does not enter into it.

Besides, Precious and I needed the exercise (and she has not played with sticks in years).

Breaking common conception. Shoot the stereotype.

When looking out, we can not see through the eyes of other people or know what demons they have slain, how good or bad the journey has been for them.

Do I need to know their past to accept that they can understand intrinsically what I or another is going through?

No, it helps make us less embarrassed, ashamed or scared to share things if we know that those who are listening have some experience/knowledge with our situation and are not looking down on us…for whatever reason.

One of the things that isolates us from help, or possible friendship, is shame, fear, embarrassment and stigma.

I was talking to one of my counselors this week and something she had not realized, even though she did say that when she revealed she had been conned out of a small amount of money to co-workers in a meeting, some people looked at her differently, as if she was kinda stupid.  However, when I pointed out that in today’s world 9 times out of 10, people admire the person that stole the money or whatever…they kinda smile and say clever devil (or something along those lines) while looking at you as if it was your fault.

It’s something that people do as for some reason they admire the not Robin Hood con artists and cheats.

After all, we all like to think and say that we are smart and not likely to get “taken in” by anyone.

How much of looking down at the victim is from that little desire to be superior to someone else?  How much is admiration for a liar, cheat and confidence artist?

How about we change the stereotype a little, Robin Hood these people are not.

The devastation they cause is more than anything you have seen portrayed on Television.

You likely won’t hear it because the victims are looked down on, and the criminal is admired.

Somehow, that view needs to change…and the crime needs to be looked on as what it is.

Destroying people’s lives.

But then that is just my viewpoint.

About time we support the victim and berate the crook, instead of admire their clever skills.

 

 

 

I feel pain today.

Let down the barriers and be, just be, without fear, pain or insecurity holding you back.
Acknowledge not the tears unshed, breath passed that tightness in your throat.
Be safe enough to allow yourself freedom to break.
Not what it is acceptable in others eyes to feel, or acknowledge but be free to experience you own feelings.
No one to tell you that you are unworthy to cry, wrong to be hurt, beneath the right of consideration or insult.
Look upon things with fresh eyes, not those coloured by the deceit, betrayal and abuse.
Khalil Gibran once said that, “Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.”
I think he is wrong, for the breaking does nothing but undermine the strength of self, and the understanding is not positive, but a stark view into blackness of the souls of others.
Can you view into such without being scarred?
Can you reach out and unlock the barriers of protection to dare let a fresh breath of life in?
Khalil Gibran also wrote that “Much of your pain is self-chosen.”
I beg to differ, and venture that we select words of others to stand in for that which we lack the capacity to say aloud or place upon paper.
Pain is not self chosen, unless you are at the core a masochist.
It is easy to blame ourselves for the actions of others towards us, allow them freedom from responsibility that they truly hold.
The wisdom to withhold blame, assign responsibility and accept in ourselves our guilt, innocence or stupidity, is never easy to achieve.
First we need the freedom, to feel, whatever we do, and divest ourselves of the imposed constraints of others, who for selfish reasons would deny us our simple right to humanity.
It is never wrong to feel, what matters is what you do with it, and that you somehow grow from it.
Pain does not make us stronger, or necessarily wiser, but it can be survived, and allow us to be kinder to others when we see them in situations which mirror our own.
© Simple Lady March 14, 2014

Chapter 2. The Crux Of Alternate Realities.

Nothing I am thinking is new to many, but for some it might be, as for me it was.

Everyone has had a time (or they will have) where a situation occurs and what you consider to be the only response or action to take, is not thought of the same by someone else.

I made the mistake of thinking that this was a singular instance of divergent core belief or priorities.

I should have seen it as the way of the world.

We were living on the farm, 360 acres of farmland with bush, and we had 4 dogs.  I was alone, as of the age of 12 I spent most of my time alone on the farm but that is yet another post for another day if I ever get brave enough.

The parents were at work, 100 miles away, and as they worked in the city we really did not have community ties (they were not the type to bother with neighbors and community).

On this fine sunny afternoon, knowing I would be alone till the next morning as usual, I opened the door to go outside and do chores and found the stoop covered in blood.  It is a shock, it’s like everything stops for a moment and then you feel fear, because something is so wrong.

I love animals, I guess being agoraphobic, I have spent more time with them than people.

My first actual thought was to find what was hurt, and I started calling the dogs.

It took a couple minutes but they came and one of them, a beautiful golden coated mixed breed shep/lab/collie, had her throat cut.

I was 14, my first thought was bring her into the house, and call mom at work.

Now my mom was an amazing woman, she was very quick and to the point – pour flour on it. Pack it with flour and keep packing it until the blood cakes and stops flowing.

So there I was in the kitchen packing flour onto her neck, crying and saying those stupid little prayers that she be okay.

That is when the older half brother showed up with his fiance.  I remember that feeling of help is here, it will be okay.

This was the moment when the divergence hit me.

This church going former military older half sibling, refused to take the dog to the nearest vet.

Instead he went to my room to sleep with his girlfriend and mom had to drive all the way home to take her to the vet, while I waited for her, tending to the dog and trying to keep hysteria at bay.

I was shocked at him because not taking her to the vet was not even an option in my mind, and I could not understand how this person could be that way.

He went to church but his first love was money, and his excuse was he was not paying for it (obviously not an issue as mom was taking her anyway) and well it would dirty his Toyota half ton so his citified fiance (a cousin via the step dad) would have issues sitting in it.

Et voila.

Divergent realities, different core values and morals.

The dog lived a long and happy life.

It is a lesson I wish I had remembered.

What we think is an automatic responsible moral response to a situation, may not even be considered by someone else.

In fact some people can’t even spell empathy much less feel it, and the only time they notice another person is to see what they can get out of them…something even now I can not quite fathom.

If I could maybe this would make sense.

Walls and lightbulbs

Fact: The wall does not care  how many times you bang your head against it.

Fact: Your not going to dent that wall with your head.

Fact: Anyone watching is going to think you’re the one doing something wrong, not the wall.

Fact: Walls exist to perform their function, they do not ask why, wonder where they should be or if they are upsetting anyone.

Fact: Every time you hit your head against that wall, you feel it, and there is less of you afterwards.

Instead of banging your head against that wall, find the light switch, and turn it on.

Maybe with some illumination you will find a new thought, or even the reason why you keep banging your head against that wall.

The wall doesn’t care.

Or it would not be a wall, it would be something more malleable and considerate.

The wall does not care who wins or loses, who hurts or cheers, it does not want or miss anyone, it is just a wall.

Look out the window for a while, you might prefer the view.

Express yourself…speak words into the darkness.

Where is your filter at today?

Filter?

Yes, that thing through which words flow, and thoughts get coloured.

It seems simple, a sentence, but the person listening, hears something else, neither thought of nor intended.

So as I look at the blank screen, I consider that filter.

Those eyes, minds and contemplations, filters I know nothing about.

I stopped writing.

I can not read minds, many times have I lamented my sheer boring normalcy, but this does mean that I can not read the unknown script and pass it back.

I can not give anything but my own thoughts or feelings.

Of course those are not always important to anyone else either.

It is like speaking to someone at the dinner table, and seeing the complete lack of understanding or even interest.

How bland does the food become and dim the light.

The art of listening, considering and conversing is being lost.

More often I watch them seek out something to make fun off on their iphones, because well that is what you do nowadays.

Pat yourself on the back for a nasty comment or mean retort.

Regardless of the recipient.

Express yourself, yes if you wish, but like talking to an empty room, there needs to be a destination or else it is just conversation with the wind.

One of those days

There are times when the world as big as it seems is very small.
Problems that are short seem tall.
Wisdom is knowing when to be silent,
Patience is accepting lack of control or even influence.
Reality is some stuff is not worth complaining about.
People hate whiners.
Everything is your fault in someone else’s eyes.
You don’t realize how little some folks care about the nasty shit they do to others.
So don’t let them win, live your life, and be the best you can despite the obstacles.
Respect and trust come with time, patience and knowledge… …if the person deserves the investment.
Of course that is  an individual decision.
We all make them, whether we admit it or not.

Today is a day to smile, and enjoy those you chose to invest in.

Forget those that you should not have given the time of day to, they already cost you enough if they took a second.