All I manage to read these days are short stories. Partly due to my abbreviated attention span and partly because the time has come when I ‘should’ start wearing reading glasses but I don’t. I get by, by increasing the font size and by reading for short periods of time. Also by squinting a lot.
‘The First Forty nine stories’ is a collection by the Nobel prize winner, Earnest Hemingway. In the preface he says, “In going where you have to go and doing what you have to do and seeing what you have to see, you dull and blunt the instrument you write with. But I would rather have it bent and dull and know I had put it on the grindstone again and hammer it into shape and out a whetstone to it, and know that I had something to write about, than to have it bright and shining and nothing to say, or smooth and well-oiled in the closet, but unused.”
After devouring the collection, I read up about him and was saddened to find that he suffered with depression and died of suicide. Here’s an example of the sensitivity and vulnerability of his characters and the simplicity of his story telling style. It’s called ‘Cat in the rain’.
Time has 3 dimensions.
Truth has 3 dimensions.
Consciousness has 3 dimensions.
The essence of the past is love.
Everything in the present is aimed at love.
Same is the hope for the future.
Love is what makes us complete.
Love is infinite, never ending…hence incomplete.
Love alone is supreme – a river of life,
Seeking the ocean of existence.
Your source is love and goal is love.
The path is also love.
Love is our very nature.
Though love is only one, it manifests in many ways.
Praising is uplifting – an expression and awakening of divine love.
Seeing divinity in every form – trees, flowers, road, TV, others, self …
Knowing that we are born out of fullness – wanting to offer and give.
Remembering someone you love kindles love.
Memory, a deep impression of divinity.
A desire to serve and surrender willingly to the divine is love.
Being a friend, relaxing together is love.
Seeing divinity as a child, like baby Krishna or infant Jesus.
Making the divine your beloved.
Dissolving oneself in the divine is love.
Being one with the universe is love.
Unbearable longing for the divine is love.
Joe put an advert in his local paper which read: “Senior citizen, 89, seeks employment in Paignton area. 20 hours plus per week. Still able to clean, light gardening, DIY and anything. I have references. Old soldier, airborne forces. Save me from dying of boredom!” He said he had lived alone since his wife, Cassandra, died two years ago and had been lonely. “When you live on your own there is no one to speak to. Since she died I’ve moved into a flat and it’s a big block. Once you walk into that flat it’s like solitary confinement,” he said. He is due to start work at a cafe in the town after the owners of the family-run business spotted his request.
Film-maker Sue Bourne says it’s a major public health issue. Her BBC documentary is called “Age of Loneliness”. It tells the stories of 14 people, young and old. “A silent epidemic that’s starting to kill us. But we don’t want to talk about it. No-one really wants to admit they are lonely.”
Si is away for a week. It’s only tolerable because I know I will see him at the end of the week. I tell myself it’s ok but it’s not easy. I miss him. I have something planned with friends for every other evening of the week so that I have something to look forward to. Something to keep me distracted. I can’t imagine how it must feel to loose a spouse or a partner you love and have been with for decades.
View: An online magazine that talks about issues that matter.
Editor: Brian Pelan
If a previously healthy man recognises that he is a huge risk to himself. If he takes himself to a mental health facility and pleads for help. If they admit him and then classify him as ‘low risk’ and leave him unsupervised. If he then goes on to end his life in the hospital within hours of being there. This has got to be wrong. One would think this to be nearly impossible. It isn’t. It happens.
A Canadian study published in 2014 on inpatient suicides concluded that “It is possible to reduce suicide risk on the ward by having a safe environment, optimising patient visibility, supervising patients appropriately, careful assessment, awareness of and respect for suicide risk, good teamwork and communication, and adequate clinical treatment.”
Recently, a Coroner’s report on an inpatient suicide found the same things that came out in Saagar’s case:
-Risk of suicide was not properly and adequately assessed and reviewed
-Transfer of verbal and written information was poor
-Risk assessment and quality of observation was poor
-Adequate and appropriate precautions were not taken to manage the risk of suicide
In addition, they found that previous recommendations on risk and environmental factors were not implemented adequately. This means that similar deaths had occurred before but nothing had changed.
How many people need to be sacrificed before something changes?
Ed Mallen, 18, died while he was on a waiting list.
Many thousands are still waiting!
Ruby is a lovely young lady who shares the joys of being on a waiting list, among other things. Here’s the link. This time it’s 18 minutes.
Thank you Ruby! We wish you well!!!
At the end of my meditation, I don’t want to open my eyes. There is nothing more to see. I don’t want to open my mouth. There is nothing more to say. All is done. There isn’t much more. It would be ok to have a quite existence in an obscure little place that no one has heard of.
At the end of my meditation, the word ‘acceptance’ hits me like an arrow right in the middle of my forehead. What is the distinction between ‘acceptance’ and ‘resignation’? How can either be experienced without a sense of defeat?
Where is the need to wake up to an alarm every morning? Where is the need to wade through the London traffic every day? What for? There are more peaceful ways to get through time. I long for them.
The last bit of Liz Lochhead’s poem ‘Favourite Place’ written in memory of her husband:
“But tonight you are three months dead
and I must pull down the bed and lie in it alone.
Tomorrow, and every day in this place
these words of Sorley MacLean’s will echo
The world is still beautiful, though you are not in it.
And this will not be a consolation
but a further desolation.”
When I was in India for a couple of weeks, I missed all the Archers and Desert Island discs. I couldn’t listen to BBC Radio 4 but was content in the knowledge that I could listen to these programmes when I got back as they would all be downloaded as Podcasts on my I-pad. While in the Himalayas, I attended a writing retreat where we talked about blogging and podcasting. I learnt that I could make podcasts of my own and put them on-line. I didn’t believe it but I liked the idea of trying it some day.
One of Saagar’s friends, Nate kindly came to cat-sit for us while we were away. He was home when we got back and it was a delight to have him around. I was assured of excellent technical assistance with him here and he very kindly agreed to be the first guinea pig. So, we got on with it and made a little recording this morning.
Here’s our first experimental, unscripted, unedited podcast. A brief conversation (8 minutes) between 2 amateur participants about what the world looks like from the standpoint of this young man. Comments, suggestions and volunteers welcome. 🙂
Sweetest memories come from mundane everyday activities.
When Saagar and I went for our weekly shopping, he loved to take full charge of steering the trolley around. He wouldn’t want me to touch it. Sometimes I would mistakenly place a hand on it and get a glare from him. Other times I would deliberately touch the trolley with the tip of my little pinky, just to get a reaction from him. I was never disappointed. He obliged. We also had a ritual of rewarding ourselves with a chocolate éclair each, on our way home.
Soon after Day 0, I couldn’t manage to go to that supermarket without a major heart-break. I would stand in front of the bakery section and cry like a school kid with sobs and tissues and both my fists covering my eyes. It didn’t matter who was around. It didn’t matter that I made a spectacle of myself. It just happened.
Today, it didn’t happen. We went there and finished our shopping. We went to the bakery section. Si stood beside me and put his hand on my shoulder as we got our chocolate eclairs. We went to the car-park, stood in the sun and enjoyed our sweet rewards. It felt like Saagar was there. He was there in our hearts and minds.
The Japanese have a word, kaizen. Kai means change and zen means good. Kaizen is based on the philosophical belief of continuous, incremental improvement. It believes that everything can be changed for the better. Nothing is ever seen as a status quo – there are continuous efforts to improve which result in small, often imperceptible, changes over time. These small changes add up to big changes over the longer term.