“Never get in fights with pigs, you get all dirty and they enjoy it.”
I love this one. Like all humour there’s more than a grain of truth in it. Too many times I’ve come out metaphorically bruised, from a discussion (?) with someone who turned out to be totally fixed in an illogical mindset, and simply not prepared to listen to reason. Some people even throw out bait to try and draw you into an argument. I’ve learned the hard way, not to take the bait.
“Oh no, not again!….”
Had this quote, from “Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy”, as the opening greeting on my mobile phone for years. The remark was made by a character called, “Agrajag”.
“Agrajag is a creature which, by coincidence, has been killed by Arthur Dent hundreds, maybe thousands of times. He has been reincarnated on multiple occasions, but Arthur Dent is, either directly or indirectly, responsible for his death in some way in every single life he has ever lived. He is first seen notably as a bowl of petunias. At this moment all we know about him are his thoughts: “Oh no, not again”. After which many people speculated that if we knew exactly why the bowl of petunias thought this, we would know a lot more of the nature of the Universe than we do now. The reason Agrajag said this is because he was killed by Arthur in many ways before.”
I don’t have a bucket list, but one of the things I’d wanted to do for some time was to hear Nightingales singing. About this time last year I got my chance. I’d booked an evening walk with the senior ranger at RSPB Fingringhoe Wick reserve in Essex. I turned up there, along with about eight other people, for about 7.30pm. There was a chilly breeze but it was dry and bright. Fingringhoe is a lovely reserve that used to be a number of gravel and sand extraction quarries that, over time, have filled with water. Nature has taken over; creating lots of scrub through which a network of paths has been created. We were led off down one of these paths and very soon brought to a halt by the ranger, to listen to our first Nightingale.
It wasn’t a disappointment. Sharp, clear and very fluid birdsong emanated from the scrub. Nightingales don’t sing from an elevated perch where we could easily see them. They’re very secretive and consequently very hard to spot. However, they are LOUD! The ranger told us that they try to out compete each other with their song and sheer volume. In fact, if there is any other noise nearby, they will sing even louder.
One of our group asked how we could see them. With difficulty, came the reply; in fact if you look for them at the point where their song seems to be, you won’t find them there. Apparently they can throw their voice, or rather their song, upwards. The better to be heard by other Nightingales, while staying safely in the scrub. One tip was to look about three or four feet below the point the sound appeared to be coming from and, if you’re lucky, you’ll spot it. However, if you are that lucky, and that day we weren’t, one thing’s for certain…. You’ll see its beak moving.
I daydream of compassion and the tears fill my eyes.
Of a hand reaching out not in rescue but just to touch.
To prove once again the existence of love,
In the face of bitterness, cynicism and pain.
A hostile world suddenly calmed by one light touch,
And a voice that gently says, “Hey, It’s alright, It’s ok”,
And watches and permits the tears to flow
As frightened eyes tentatively gaze
Into eyes that smile a caress of peace.
8/10/91
Hello and thank you for giving this your Time and attention.
I’ll start by saying, that I’m not entirely sure that WordPress is the right place for what I want to publish. I was looking for somewhere to publish a memoir I wrote over a couple of years in the early 1990’s.
At that time I was going through a very difficult period in my life. Although I don’t entirely agree with the concept of mental illness, I guess I probably would have been classified as such by the medical models back then. I managed to stay outside of the mental health system and worked through my difficulties using resources I organised for myself.
The memoir stands at 26,000 words, broken down into chapters, so not really suitable for a blog. It was suggested, on a forum, that I paste the whole thing into “Pages” on WordPress. However, I’m still not sure if that is the right place for it.
My thinking is, that some people might find my story useful, helpful even. Which is why I want to put it out there. I’ve thought through the risks involved and I realise that some people might find it a rather challenging read; it is rather, “warts and all” in its content.
I’m open to respectful question and discussion. Also any help and advice will be welcome.
Navigating Hades. 