The Power Of One…..And So Say All Of Us

I don’t go looking for TED Talks but they seem to come looking for me. Today the first blog post I read was on Fi’s page. A blog post of honesty and self-reflection and one that led me to writing this post.

I don’t know Fi all that well, partly because I haven’t followed her for an immensely long time and partly because, during that time, Fi hasn’t always been around. I don’t know exactly what keeps Fi from her blog but, from poems and pieces she has written, I sense someone who, like us all, needs to go searching at times.

The search may lead us to places we would rather not go, to thinking of things we, for whatever reason, need to think on even while those thoughts may not lead us immediately to where we want to be.

The place most, if not all of us, want to be is a place called Happiness.

The Ted Talk below is given by a man whose job title is, for real, ‘Jolly Good Fellow’.

(source)

He works for Google and it sounds like an amazing place to work.

Imagine a company whose profitability and success grows by being mindful of its employees, where the autonomy to actively promote happiness, for yourself and others, allows your job to develop in directions almost impossible to imagine. A compelling reason to go to work each day, for sure.

Imagine a step further, if you will, where being compassionate is proven to make you happy – scientifically proven, just one of the hits arising when googling for ‘compassion, happiness, science’.

Imagine then how much fun it is when you feel happy. How freaking amazing it is! Remember happy? That visitor who is sometimes too infrequent in calling, all too elusive in the search.

Imagine if none of this needed to be imagined.

If the equation were C=H.

Let C be Compassion, let H be happiness.

Maybe the equation would look somewhat different to mine but algebra wasn’t my strong point and I could never, way back then, figure out why there were letters where I thought numbers should be.

I understand it a bit better now, recognising that the letters signify an unknown factor to be worked with.

But this equation doesn’t seem to have any unknown factors.

Compassion actually does equal happiness. Tested and proven..

The guy in the video seems like a really happy guy but not a patch on Matthieu Ricard  whose happiness quotient, apparently, is off the scale. What was he doing when it was measured? Meditating on compassion (for those who will not watch!)

I seek happiness. I seek it for me. I seek it for others. I get thrown off course at what goes on in the world and, admittedly, by my own wandering down paths that can never lead there although do help on the journey.

And I wonder how happiness for all can ever be possible as long as there are people who don’t care. Sometimes I want to give it up as a bad job.

Except it’s not a job so much as it is life.

I don’t need to work for google. I don’t need to be the Dalai Llama although I would like a blether with him.

(source)

I don’t need to carry a card declaring me the ‘Jolly Good Fellow’ (although how cool would that be!)

We could all carry one!

I just need to remember, every time I’m with someone, to be conscious of the thought, ‘I want you to be happy’.

From that one thought for their happiness, that mindful awareness, my happiness quotient grows. I feel it. I know it. Because I also know, when I’m not doing it, the type of day that can follow. I know those days well. Don’t we all?

I could waffle on for ages here, as you know, when the real Jolly Good Fellow says it so much better.

From Google engineer to emotional coach to living a life of happiness.

‘ I’m now semi-retired. My current job description at Google is: “enlighten minds, open hearts, create world peace”. In my free time, I try to save the world. ‘

No one can force us to be compassionate but being happy is a compelling reason. Saving ourselves from misery by saving others first and letting that grow has more potential than all the zeros google could ever add.

I doubt if the child who coined googol and the brilliant minds who created Google itself had any idea of the impact one word, one idea, could have in conjunction with the one highway we use here. A highway so interconnected that maybe it could take us to that place we all so desperately seek – Happiness.

The power of one raised a worldwide times.

 

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Ball Out Of Play

There’s a game that people play but I don’t get it;

it’s called take offence when none intent is there.

I’ve seen it all, enacted in my family,

with exes; dearest siblings pulling at their hair.

It’s a power sort of game that leaves a flavour;

a bitterness that tastes of dank decay,

when wealth of hate showers forth in spittle

but not for any words they had to say.

It’s for being who you are but they don’t like it;

like you’re happy and they can’t believe that’s real,

so the vitriol or silence seek to thwart it,

expunge the love, let crusty scabs not heal.

It’s a game I see in work and with companions,

as if life is just too easy so let’s fight;

a soap opera to my reality, really,

I don’t get it! How can this attitude resemble right?

Naivete has always been my virtue

and my vice as well, if truth be told at last;

I never comprehend that I’ve offended

for it’s the last thing that I’d seek, so always ask.

I’ll move my knight to your rook and I’ll ponder

the route to trap and check the king, no vice,

I’ll throw the dice and play the cards and wonder

if betting on the game is worth the hellish price.

I’ll move my dog and hope that I collect some

prize or fund for playing my game fair,

but changing rules, anarchic games that some love,

are way beyond the bet I’d ever dare.

There are bastards in this world, please don’t doubt it,

I know god loves them just as much as me,

but I decline to play the games they’re playing

and leave, I hope, with vestigial dignity.

I’ll watch from sidelines when my friends are challenged,

I’ll bite my tongue and pray for some control

but never when I see a bully smirking;

I’ll jump right in and save that goddamn goal.

The penalty of those who play this game; you know,

the one, where winners there are none, or broken souls,

is loneliness forever, never reaching,

destitute in spirit; fragmented whole.

May Music Day 1- Music Filled My Ears

Twindaddy at Stuphblog issued a challenge. From the first of May and for twenty-five days to select a piece of music arising from twenty-five questions posed by him.

1st – a song from your childhood – this one made me quite sad. And happy.

Music filled my ears,

from sweetest voice

I ever heard; my mum.

Songs of love, beautifully surrendered

to family chores

with hugs and tunes by turn.

 

In simple grace

her words flowed

like a fountain,

sparkling life into the hearts of all

who heard an angel echo every morning,

 called to us to rise, the day begun.

 

No one heard her voice

without succumbing

to the heart of one who raised all spirits high,

by grace and goodness woven into music

we listened and we learned

from ballads’ sigh.

 

My father smiled whenever mum was singing,

some chosen for their love,

given free,

others for all children

and god’s pleasure.

And one tune, especially, sung for me.

 

It followed me through life

when, as requested, I learned

to voice god’s talents handed on,

when dad would ask for my rendition

of the one

all family members called, ‘my song’.

 

I hear it still from time to time in passing,

I sing along and

memories flood my mind,

of childhood days and melodies imbibed then

from two, whose love

 knew how to warm and bind.

 

They’re gone now, from this world of lovers,

reunited

after many years apart.

I hear them still in music I hold dearest,

still, after all this time,

they fill my heart.

Elysian Fields

I’m rising and falling

and floating thru’ time

like a leaf on a breeze

in the mist

to Elysian Fields,

lush pastures to seize

while a song plays and

drifts from my lips.

 

I open my eyes

to view what’s in store and

gasp with delight

at the scene;

my Mother and Father,

all those long gone,

dancing

as if in a dream.

 

Their laughter like lilacs,

their faces in bloom,

roses red

on each cheek,

my face shines with joy

at each girl and boy

suspended in time

that we seek.

 

Air rushes by,

my heart gives a cry

as I’m torn from this world

full of wonder

clouds scud the night,

spirit in flight, in a whirlpool

 I’m dragged

back down under

 

to life on the earth

where worries await

and trials are the test

of my soul.

But eyes closed, cast within

I see fields again

and the faces of my

Elysian goal.

Shall We Dance?

Will you dance the tango with me

And make me forget all life’s woes,

Hold your cheek close to mine, rough to soft

While I clench in my teeth a red rose?

 

Will you waltz me around until dawn

In a ballroom where only we two belong

Skirting floor edge to edge in grand sweeps

While orchestra plays our love song?

 

Will you Charleston and laugh as we flap

Giddy moves, all dressed to the nines,

Flirt outrageously, pose to the world

While forgetting all sad other times?

 

Will you twist me and turn me around,

Shake hips with luscious desire,

Berate the baleful and bored

While hearts are consumed by our fire?

 

Will you strip the willow with me,

Hear the skirl as I spin in your arms,

Skip up each line, reuniting in time,

While you succumb to all of my charms?

 

Will you rock and roll if they play,

And twirl me in jauntiest jive,

Laughing loudly at moves that we make

While you reassure me I’m still alive?

 

Will you boogie to disco, though crass,

Strut your stuff to show your emotion,

Remembering how those years were filled,

While new times inspire true devotion?

 

Will you pogo and romp if I smile

And suggest that we always must dance,

Partaking of life with its music to rouse

While we serenade this, our last chance?

 

Will you hold me for slowest of tunes

As the night draws to close and we sway,

Will you promise to be the dance of my life

While the music ebbs, fades away?

Sad Tears. Happy Tears.

I’ve cried a few times over this holiday period. Yes, Hogmanay, I find a very melancholic night. I hate it actually. I don’t want to view it as the end of a year and reflect on another year of life passing. I want to see it as one more day in the unfolding days of life. But, for some reason, every year, I find myself weeping. I’m fine the following day, as if it never happened. It’s not alcohol induced. It’s just a sad sort of melancholy I cannot avoid in the hours leading up to the bells. And I know I was not alone in feeling this way. I have read a number of posts from others who felt exactly the same.

I want to share with you though another evening of tears. Happy tears.

Christmas Eve. My 20 year old daughter came home to spend Christmas and gave me my Christmas present on Christmas Eve.

It’s a beautiful leather bound journal with carvings and leather bindings. It’s gorgeous.

But she inscribed it to me. And here is what she wrote. I cried. And I hugged her for her love and understanding.

To Mum,

I got you this journal to say that not everything you write has to be read by the world and not everything that is read by the world is actually how you feel.

When you feel angry or frustrated or sad or lonely, I want you to write in this and be reminded of how proud I am of you. How proud that you’re my mother. I want you to write in this and remember that I love you very much, that we all do and that will never change. I want you to write in this especially when you feel that no one is listening or that something is just too difficult to say and know that I will always be here to support you. I want you to write in this, mum, even if it is just one word and I promise you that everything will be okay.

And then one day, if you allow me, I’ll read it. I’ll read it and be reminded that it’s okay to have flaws and faults because the strongest person in my life also did. I’ll read it and remember how brave you are and how your courage helps me through my darkest days. I’ll read it and know it all already because nothing you could say or do could ever disappoint or surprise me. I’ll read it mum and be in absolute awe at your talent. You’re amazing – never forget that.

Merry Christmas.

MK xxx

I’m crying again as I type this up. It is the most beautiful gift I have ever been given. The journal is lovely. The words take my breath away.

I am sure we all have people in our lives who feel this way about us. I happen to have a daughter who, like myself, loves to articulate what she feels. I am honoured she feels this way.

We all have those who love us unconditionally, I hope. And maybe we should try to say what we feel to let others know our love too. This has set me up for the rest of my life let alone the new year.

Happy New Year

We recollect the year,

Those loved and lost,

Decisions, right and wrong,

We count the cost

In growth and worth,

Another year in passing

In friendships, families,

All love amassing,

In trials, tribulations,

Fought and won,

All effort poured in faith,

This year near done.

Some hours now

To ponder life anew,

No promises, just

Hope and love renew.

Confidence in

Coming days ahead,

Constancy, belief,

No sense of dread.

A providential one,

A year filled with

New treasure,

I wish you this and more

In heartfelt measure.

Happy New Year, dear

Friends of WordPress,

May all your dreams come true,

Your lives be blest. x

Make Haste

Suckers for love, all,

We give and receive.

Without it, mere nothing,

What would we believe?

A future unchallenged,

Unfounded, gone missing.

Love is a pleasure.

But then, so is kissing!

 

Sensory pleasures,

Love offers as such,

Enabling devotion,

Without it so much

Passion for loving

Would surely fall flat,

All work and endurance,

Nought wrong with that

 

Except that the adage says,

All work and no play

Makes Jack way too dull.

Well, Jill feels that way.

Uphill the struggle

Without all the hugs,

The kisses, caresses,

Our heartstrings, they tug.

 

No chapters or verses

In love’s fairy story,

Songs sung and melodies

Depict all the glory.

Sensations in mind

Surface to skin,

Heart coincides,

Wonder begins.

 

Eyes spark a light,

Words speak the truth,

Kissing, soft touching

Remind aged and youth

That senses unveiled,

Stroked in and without,

Love is the answer,

Of this have no doubt.

 

Uncovered in body,

More clearly in mind,

Thoughts seek their equal,

More surely to find

The one, with eyes closed

In darkness distinguish,

Light pursues light

Acknowledge, relinquish

 

Desire in all functions,

Bodies so mated,

Encapsulate all in

Manner created.

Wholesome, familiar

Comprehended, well known

Sought blindly, conceded

Accredited, full shown.

 

No pleasure in living

If love is not borne

All joy and happiness,

All zest, have been shorn.

Seek with eyes open,

Be ready to give

And receive, that’s important,

Make haste to live.

Only This Second

Dreams unreal tomorrow holds,

No certainties, mere speculation.

Before us now today unfolds,

A brief tomorrow, in duration.

 

Only seconds, fleeting moments,

For use within our hands

To mould and shape, sweetly foment.

This at our command.

 

A vital second of each life,

Only one at just this instant.

Wasted, filled with endless strife?

Or rich with great intent?

 

What is right or wrong we glean.

Where do we want to be?

Have we slept another’s dream,

Their life, their fantasy?

 

Sustained effort, fortitude,

Decisions made, applied,

In such as this, portentous good,

Life is sanctified.

 

No mountain climbed for flag to post

Nor golden haloed wreath,

Fulfilment in what matters most,

Holding to belief.

 

Recognising small but wise,

All seconds clearly count,

They’re striven for, this amplifies

In worth by how they mount

 

In magnitude, their worth, their glory

Those moments every day

That build, arise like Taj, each story,

Monumental in their way.

 

A palace so, not vaulted tomb,

Royal beauty to behold.

Yarn chosen, woven upon each loom,

In all seconds, our stories told.

 

Places In My Mind

 

Daily Prompt: Blogger in a Strange Land

by michelle w. on October 12, 2013

What’s the strangest place from which you’ve posted to your blog? When was the last time you were out and about, and suddenly thought, “I need to write about this!”?

Photographers, artists, poets: show us STRANGE.

 

 

Not on a downer! And I know it’s now 13^th!

Just thinking that all sorts of strange ‘places in our minds’ create the need to write.

 

Black hole

Engulfs

And swallows

Whole.

Belief

Belittled.

Buckled,

Aimless goal.

Devoured,

Dark

Abyss,

Devoid of light.

Diminished,

Dented days.

But still

I write.

 

Sparkling stars,

Unending joy

And flight.

Even then,

I feel

The need

To write.