The most wondrous prize I ever wanted to have when I was young was a small frog in plastic bag. Each year when the fair would come to town I would set my heart upon getting one of these frogs. It didn’t matter that my mother was dead set against the frog coming in-house or that the amount of money that would have to be spent for me to acquire said animal was ridiculous. I just I wanted that frog. I mean I dreamt about getting a frog. I picked out a name and decided how to I would fix up an old fishbowl as a frog home and all the rest.
Alas I never got the frog and not just because my mother was dead set against it either. Nor was it entirely because my father was too fiscally responsible (read that as frugal) to spend money on a frog that probably wouldn’t last long. I outgrew the frog or rather I shifted my obsession to other things. Some of those things I got such as books and toys and some I did not, such as the snow cone maker I was wanted for a couple of years.
While at the clinic today, I overheard a mother promise her son anything he wanted if he would just go and do whatever the doctor was asking him to do and I was left to wonder what his anything dream would be. Judging from his size he was roughly the age I was when the frog was the most wonderful thing to win and have. I wondered if he would choose a frog, a pet, an ice cream or something more like a tablet (probably already has one) or such.
But this little boy surprised me because I bumped into him and his mom while I was on my way out. It seems he had been a good boy and so now it was time for him to get that anything that he wanted. It turns out the most wondrous prize for this child was a hug from his mom and a promise of a story when they got home. And you know what? If someone offered me those things when I was his age I’d take it every time too because it is really the most wondrous thing. The love and comfort never goes away and the adventure of the story, shared with someone special stays with you too, long after the frog has hopped away to find his own princess.
My four-footed companion has an incredible zest for life and no matter what the situation is, to her, there is always something positive to be found. If she’s on a walk and it starts to rain she might not like the rain but she will delight in the puddles suddenly available for frolicking. If the rain should bring out the worms, well there’s a new friend to meet and play with. Granted the worm may not enjoy her version of playing which may include things like being tossed in the air or carried in her mouth, but it’s the thought that counts.
She’s not a huge fan of the vet, as in she’d just as soon avoid the place as go in, but once she is inside she’s off to meet people and basically cause as much chaos as possible in her wake. Of course the vet also has little treats so that’s the bonus of surviving that trip for her.
Yesterday she went to the groomer’s for a nice wash, a clip and a mani/pedi or whatever it is for dogs. Again this isn’t a place that she initially enjoys because they don’t let her roam around freely, but she will find the silver lining in anything. Yesterday it was sharing the sprayer with the groomer. The groomer didn’t really want to have a full on bath, but my little darling insisted that they share the water, soap being optional for the groomer apparently. (According to the groomer for no reason at all the four-footed one managed to slip out of her space, grab the sprayer and proceed to chase the groomer around with the sprayer. I’m not sure if she really did all that, but I can attest to one soaked groomer when I went to collect my zestful companion.)
And when my little four-footed wonder got home she couldn’t wait to share her new look with nature – as in she rolled in the grass, splashed in a puddle and rubbed against a few bits of shrubbery. After a brief rest she was thrilled to find the little girl who lives up the street from us out for a walk. The four-footed one was so eager to meet the little girl who is still not sure about this whole walking thing that she was literally bouncing the joy. When she finally met the little girl, she immediately showed her affection and offered to share her favorite ball with the child. Thankfully the whole meeting and playing went well and the child’s mother was easy going.
I wonder if I can bottle up some of that zest and optimism for days when I need it because I haven’t found the magic to always finding the silver lining with the daily grind. Maybe if I find a worm or two to play with…
Stumbling through historical documents the way I usually do, in other words I read through or rather skim through until something catches my eye besides creative spelling and what have you, I came across the mention of immurement (literally being walled in) as a means of religious practice. In the text I was reading, it referred to how the cells of religious followers known as anchorites were designed to allow for small things, such as shuttered windows from which they might hear the Mass and see the altar of the church. Another small opening was present to provide for small yet basic needs of the follower. The understanding is that the person walled in never leaves his/her cell again. This life would be one of communion, albeit solitary in nature, with God via contemplative prayer.
I can’t fathom what that life would be like. What would even go through a person’s mind while the work on being walled in was taking place? Yes a great spiritual journey may await you but that journey would include long, lonely hours interrupted with the hearing/sights of a ceremony and the smallest, most frugal of food offered to you. If you were fortunate you would be able to speak with others (I have read in some instances where an anchorite would simply be walled up in a cell completely, left to starve or dehydrate to death as there were no windows provided) when they came to seek you out for wisdom or to intercede upon their behalf for religious matters and such.
As much as I cannot fathom that lifestyle I also cannot say that a different form of this isn’t going on today. How many people are ostracized from mainstream society due to illness, medical conditions or simply being different? How many times do you read articles about people being found only after neighbors complain of a foul odor or the mail-person notices the mail hasn’t been picked up for a number of days? I suspect that when you start to live a very solitary existence, and for the record there is nothing wrong with that if that is by the person’s choice, that it is may be not too far off form a walled in experience, expect you have the freedom to move out of your “confinement” if you wish. Of course when one is ostracized there isn’t the freedom to “join” back into the rest of the group unless you go forth and seek out your own group.
Of course this method could be used for reasons other than religion, such as punishment, an out of sight and out of mind approach where people would simple die of starvation and dehydration. A most horrible way to spend one’s last hours, starved, thirsty, dehydrated and probably injured from trying to claw one’s way out. Not to mention you would be completely shut off from all human contact with only your own thoughts, voice and hallucinations to keep you company.
I can honestly say that although I thoroughly enjoy my solitude and my privacy, I can’t imagine being stuck with just myself 24 hours a day for the reminder of my life.
I think I may have fought a little too hard for my independence as a child. Perhaps, on my own terms mind you, I can give up some of today’s independence and let someone else take care of the putting fuel in the car. It isn’t that I am unable to fuel up the car; it’s that today I’d rather not do that. Come to think of it, I’d like to ride on someone’s shoulders for a little bit as well thanks because I picked out my own shoes today. These shoes weren’t the best choice for lots of “off road” walking. By “off road” walking I mean walking in what amounts to a huge gravel pit with the smallest pieces of gravel being just perfect for twisting an unsuspecting ankle.
Oh and since I’m giving up some other bits of independence, I’d like to have someone else prepare the meals (I still get to complain about the food though) and do all the clean up afterwards. I could use some down time also known as play time, although my definition of play has changed, but don’t let that stop you from stepping in! 😊
There’s also a mountain of laundry that needs seeing to before it threatens to topple over into the dreaded laundry avalanche of 2017. We are trying to avoid that, and by we I mean whoever happens to take over the responsibility thing for that because I’m giving that up too! 😊 You see it’s very important that I watch the clouds move across the sky, oh and figure out where the ants go when they head for their dirt houses. I also need some time to contemplate what might be in the cupboards that are too high up for me to reach without a chair. (I honestly cannot remember what I put up there because needing the whole chair thing is a bit of a drag, both literally and figuratively. I’m not really complaining about the cupboards though because they are idea for storage of things I don’t really need. However the fact is I could have priceless artifacts up there and I just don’t know, but I seriously doubt it.)
Of course this giving up of independence should not result in me having to stop changing “me do” everything something looks like it might be a) fun or b) make a spectacular mess. I fully expect you to comply with some of the “me do” demands, but I’m not responsible for any of the cleanup. It should always be fun for me, fun and able to fulfill my curiosity. Oh and don’t be surprised if I have the odd meltdown because I’m struggling with this whole dependent/independent thing. All meltdowns can be averted by plying me with coffee and more fun! 😊
Can you tell I’ve spent some time with a toddler recently? Honestly why was I in such a hurry to grow up? Why did my parents insist on making this whole being an adult thing look like fun? It’s pretty much more work and less fun and nap time then I wanted. So yes I’m throwing in the towel of independence, but on my terms only because after all I am an adult so I can choose what I want!
My four-footed companion and I were sitting outside watching a rather rotund mag-pie cavorting in the sunshine. I was watching the light play upon the bird’s feather as it went about whatever business it was doing and my companion was debating if she should join in with whatever it was the bird was doing.
Actually she was probably trying to work out a way to get out of my grasp and chase the bird away so she could have a look at whatever the bird was pecking at. Prior to our encounter with the bird, my companion had managed to consume a few ants, tasted a beetle (that got spat out after a quick roll around her mouth) and sampled some of the leaves off the ground. From her perspective I’m pretty sure she considers our outings to really be all you can sample buffets. From my perspective, well let’s just say I keep hoping she will grow out of this phase if I expose to to nature enough. I may have to admit defeat.
The thing about the mag-pie is that from a distance the bird is two colors, black and white. Very straightforward and simple in color scheme, yet in the sunlight the black has hues of blues and green which serve as an excellent reminder that nothing is as simple as it appears; life is never as black and white as people want, rather we live within the hues of nature.
The lovely, heavy perfume of flowers has come to fill the house again. The four-footed one has decided the best way to enjoy al the different flowers and their perfume is to run around the house, from room to room. This way she can enjoy all the smells in short bursts. Of course she has excessive energy to burn off and lives within each moment and only that moment when it is current.
These flowers are part of a group which survived her “hatching” techniques a short time ago. And by “hatching” I mean when they were just tender green splashes poking out of the ground she felt the urge to rest upon them. They seemed to have survived her techniques as well as her attempts at imitating bumblebees.
The sheer number of flowers making an appearance this year has resulted in early cutting and filling of vases in the house. Which has resulted in the mad dashing about from room to room to enjoy the scent. It is as if I have a wee whirlwind in the house helping to waft the perfume in her wake. 😊 It’s safer then allowing her to run from flower to flower outside, and a little cleaner as well. It keeps out of the mud and stops her from trampling over the helpless flowers!
Would you share your internet browsing habits with a group of strangers? Does it matter if people have access to how you spend your time online? I guess it depends on how you view things. People will cite the protection of the collective or the greater good must take precedence over the individual’s right to privacy, such as the case with child exploitation and such. Does that change when you discover that it’s any third party that wants your data and your internet provide decides to share that with them?
For the record my internet browsing habits are pretty boring and certainly nothing that I feel the need to keep private due to feelings of shame or embarrassment. At the same time what I do within the confines of the privacy afforded to me in my house is also sacred to me. It is the last haven for my privacy. And according to the government I could lose that too because there is a need for the greater good to have access to what I view online. Really I suspect it’s more about targeted advertising. And I’m sure that at some level, someone will tell me I just don’t realize how important this is to me; to have advertising customized or targeted towards my habits is flattering.
Except having advertising and such targeted towards me, which let’s face it already happens to some degree online, is not flattery, it’s just down right creepy. Of course I’m of a certain age, an age where not everything I do is immediately updated on social media so it may just be an age thing. Of course I’m also of the age that if houses in my neighborhood are being robbed, I’m calling the authorities first; I hear that these days the appropriate response is to send a tweet or update your Facebook page first. It seems like a natural response to anyone who spends the bulk of their time on social media, especially now that social media allows for authorities to act upon those posts or tweets.
For the record, I’m also of a certain age, or maybe it’s just a point in my life, where I want to eat my food while it’s fresh and hot; not after I’ve taken a million pictures and posted the best of those online.
So maybe it’s just people of a certain age, or a certain place in their lives that resent having more of their privacy stripped away. In the name of safety, the greater good, customized advertising or whatever else it will be called. And yes, I reckon that because I’ve posted this, I will be considered cranky and old by some for surely only those of us at this age or place in life would dare complain about such things