Is perfection a goal worth striving for

I watched fascinated as the tiny gymnast moved through her flawless routine, the ball flew into the air then returned to her as if by magnet; it rolled around her graceful movements that flowed with the fluid motion of the orb. She leapt, folded to the floor, the ball lands in the crook of her neck. The audience knows they have just witnessed a rare moment of perfection, after a stunned silence they rise as one, to applaud the delicate figure who has shared this moment with them.

This is the moment of glory the gymnast has worked her whole life to achieve. The agonising hours, the childhood sacrificed, the injuries endured all to achieve this goal and now that it has been achieved… where does it leave her. When she performs again the audience will expect nothing but perfection. Perfection can be set as a goal, it can be worked towards with dedication, sacrifice and immense self discipline, but all this will not guarantee the perfect moment. Some, despite their dedication, will never achieve it.

But what of the ones that do. The audience fades away, the congratulations die down and the adrenaline is slowly dispelled from the body. Then back to the rehearsals and the grinding work routine, but now with the knowledge that nothing but perfection will ever be good enough again. Does the performer now work doubly hard; is she pushed by those that mind her to greater heights? Yes of course, but will she achieve them. Perfection cannot be planned; it is a magic trick of time and space.

Perhaps that is why sports people who reach perfection turn to drugs, as they know that which no one else will confess to, some moments cannot be forgotten can never be relived and can never be improved upon.

There is perhaps advantage in striving for less public moments of perfection, that are more varied and therefore not as heartbreaking. Perhaps the thing to aim towards is not in the creation of perfection, but the ability to recognise it in a cloud, a flower or in a tiny breeze that by a minute shift in direction carries with it a delicate perfume of blossoms that herald spring.

A small perfect moment, but enough to carry a smile for a day.

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What comes first love or trust?

Trust, love can only grow in an environment of trust. If there is even the smallest doubt in any relationship, love will never grow to its fullest potential.

This makes me think that until we trust and love ourselves completely we will not have the means to love and trust another completely. We are therefore the masters of our destiny as in order to love ourselves, we must strive to be that person we want to love. Until we trust and love ourselves we will be ruled by doubt, with doubt comes fear, with fear concealment.

Fear and love are linked, we are so fearful to be vulnerable that we don’t confess to love, but if we don’t confess to love how can the beloved know that they are truly loved? To love and to be loved is first and foremost trust and only the fearless can allow themselves to trust completely.

By stepping through our fear we learn to love that which we are, without fear our ego is no longer an issue. Fear is our biggest enemy. The absence of fear opens the doors to our happiness, our lives, our freedom, ourselves. Fear can only be conquered by independent thought.

The fearless know their mind, will trust until proven wrong and if so, will walk away without judgement. The fearless will step from the path, put out a helping hand and not allow themselves to be swayed by the crowd. When you are fearless you do no harm, there is no need, the fearless spread their calm and make others fearless too. Without fear there is no need for violence. Without fear there is no jealously, the fearless do not fear loss or betrayal, without fear there is no loneliness, the fearless stand in the middle of their lives and embrace their silence and solitude and open the possibilities of this vast calm universe to all who come into contact with them.

Fear is what shackles and binds us; it puts weights on our feet and closes our minds to the endless possibilities.

Happy needs sad

Philosophers through the ages have always maintained that emotions should be worked through then discarded, the passions of the mind and flesh controlled. All published philosophers seem to have been men, which is probably why men have sticks up their asses when it comes to emotion.

I don’t think emotion should be disregarded, but balanced, like a good wine, a fine meal or a symphony, each emotion has its place.

But due to media indoctrination, which always seems to sell us the assured happy ending, we demand to be happy all the time, we strive only for happiness and joy , then we are angry and sad when this is not the truth of our lives.

So we are essentially sad at the inability of our emotions to maintain the constant stream of happiness that we see as our right. But as my wise child recently said ’you need the tears in your eyes to see the rainbows’

The more intensely you have felt the slow dull pain of sorrow, the higher you will get on happiness and also, the fewer stimuli you will need to feel happy. But if you are constantly happy you will soon take your state of being for granted and will need bigger and better happy jolts to make you feel happy high you crave. Which is possibly why extreme sports are so popular.

Why we are happy and sad is more difficult.

I get sad at the oddest times. A memory comes to me of standing in a huge electronics store in Antwerp surrounded by plasma screens, cameras, music systems and digital toys of every description. People all around buying stuff that they hope will make them happy, and the tills ring ting ting . In the middle of all this wild purchasing a documentary was playing on every television screen, hundreds of repeated images of a dazzling white polar bear on a small float of ice, drifting on the deep blue sea. As I watched the camera panned away and away and away and as the polar bear become a small white dot in the middle of the sea, his fate was clear to me, due to our insane chasing of happiness in shops, he would drown. Sadness overwhelmed me, tears rolled down my face and I felt like a complete twit while all round the people were buying their daily does of happiness.

Knowing too much, seeing too far is a constant source of sorrow, the world is not on the whole a happy place, so that occasional moment of true joy is certainly worth the work… but does it take work to make us happy?

No. It is being open to the moment, not to let the sorrows of the world overwhelm your ability to be happy. Happiness lives in the million small moments of everyday. Chasing happiness is like chasing an orgasm it doesn’t work, you have to be open to the experience and it will come to you. If you are open to the possibility of finding happiness it will always come to stab a light into the dark of whatever sorrow you might be feeling. You just have to decide to be happy for that little light, and not say; oh it such a small insignificant light, because then that little light will surely go out.

For some reason I feel the insane, unstoppable urge to share snake stories and never one to ever try to control myself, here I go.

It was all long long time ago, when I decided to step into that mysterious realm of holy matrimony.

The ceremony took place in Africa, where rough and rented roads led guests around rolling green hills, past the reed and adobe villages of the Xhosa and down to the edge of the African Wild Coast where ships founder and waves thunder, onto beaches pristine pure and empty.

Here in a huddle of small holiday camps friends gathered under the shade of scarlet flowering trees, sipping champagne and beer while the Xhosa villagers gathered silently, uninvited but welcome, filling a steep rolling embankment with colour and smiles. And then, like an unexpected thunder storm, burst into Xhosa song as I walked across white cloth, past ululating woman who brushed the bad spirits from my path with the swish of cow tail switches.

Under a flower landed canopy we said the vows we had agreed on before, and then virile young Xhosas leapt, dancing in the air, their feet beating wild tattoos on the hot African soil until in the dark of night, a mist of rain fell between us and the full moon, building a violet and magenta rainbow across the sea and sky.

The next morning each guest awoke to deal with the business of their own hangover and groaned their way across head jarring roads back to the far flung corners of the land. While we were left with the mess to clear.

The snake?

Yes yes, I am getting there.

In an ablution block, I reached out to turn off the gas. But there was a snake, a slash of emerald against the rough white wall, under its chin a smudge of saffron. A child’s toy forgotten, left behind, thought I but reaching out the forked tongue flicked, just once. I was in awe, in front of me a juvenile green mamba, its geometry perfection, its colour sublime.

And then being a real girl I just HAD to share.
Calling my man I said, look…isn’t it wonderful
But he didn’t see the beauty only the possibility of danger.
Action needed to be taken, men were called, pangas found and the beauty of the green geometry was reduced to a pulp-red pile of destruction on the bathroom floor.

The moral of my African wedding story?

The failure of our species is the constant need to try and control that which we fear, instead of trying to control our fear. Did destroying the beauty of the snake solve the problem?
No.
There will always be another snake.

longing and desire

Commerce feeds on our dissatisfaction and through clever marketing we are constantly filled will longing and desire for something other than that which we are, have, where we are.

Advertisers will have us believe that our longing and desire can be fulfilled if we just go out and buy this gadget or that dress. So we rush from purchase to purchase in the pursuit of … happiness?

To think is not an easy pastime or a pastime without risk and danger.
To think is not to quote the internet but to try to find unique and original thoughts that are informed by each persons own experiences and areas of knowledge.
To think is to try to set aside emotional bias or beliefs that are founded in childhood memories.
To think is not to be politically correct but to start from a mutual understanding that opinions will differ and not one will ever be proven to be 100% correct.
Thinking cannot always be sweetly polite as opinions need to be tested rigorously and without fear of stepping on somebody’s toes.
To question is not too judge, but to try to expand understanding
To disagree is also not to judge, but merely to disagree.

A thinker, who allows their brain to wonder as it will; allows it to make new and surprising connections, confirming with each bit of new knowledge, not that he/she is closer to knowing everything, but a small step further away.

In thinking you do not close or complete knowledge, but open doors to ever wider horizons.

innocence and wisdom

Interesting that we always believe that children have the answer they are cute, cuddly, innocent but they don't have the answers. Just a few hours ago I wrote the following...

I catch myself, now that I can understand the wishes, I am judging them. Life is a constant learning curve; there I was thinking I had acquired all sorts of wisdom on my journey, but now discover that to be non-judgmental when one understands nothing is easy, to be non-judgmental when you understand everything is a far more difficult task...

Children have no means with which to judge ,their innocence is just that, innocence wisdom is another matter altogether