The problem with theories as with just about every discipline or industry in the world is putting them into practice.
The problem with theories as with just about every discipline or industry in the world is putting them into practice.
Elegance is usually confused with superficiality, fashion, lack of depth. This is a serious mistake: human beings need to have elegance in their actions and in their posture because this word is synonymous with good taste, amiability, equilibrium and harmony.
Elegance is achieved when all that is superfluous has been discarded and the human being discovers simplicity and concentration: the simpler and more sober the posture, the more beautiful it will be.
It’s that time of the year again.
Since I lost my faith in organized religion and God himself, I have troubles celebrating anything that has something to do with it. I used to be religious. Not fanatic, but religious. I’ve been brought up surrounded by blind faith and superstitious beliefs. We dutifully recited the Holy Rosary each evening at six o’clock. I’d been tied up around the foot of a table whole night without supper for failing to memorize the Our Father prayer. I attended masses and offered flowers to deities. I had my first communion and confirmation. I’ve been baptized and heck, even married in the church, twice.
For all that happened to me, I never blame anyone let alone God. I accepted everything without question. I thought my faith was the only thing that was constant in my life and my unshakable belief in the power of the Holy Almighty was something no one can take away from me. I imagined myself being imprisoned and having to choose between death or live by renouncing my faith and I was sure I will rather opt for the first anytime anywhere, till two years ago. Something happened that made me abandoned everything I was taught and live by all those years. There is no way back.
Now, we are this far again. The season to be merry, the time to be jolly and I am neither of those. But even if I didn’t lose my belief in God, I doubt if I am going to join the hysteria of masses during this period. I wrote about the reasons why a few seasons ago and if you have the time, you can read it here, here and here.
What about you? Are you religiously celebrating the most celebrated time of the year? Do you still believe in God? How you hold on to your faith when everywhere you look you see the opposite of what you believe in? No, I’m not criticizing. Just showing interest. If you wish to share your thoughts I would love to hear them.
“No varnish can hide the grain of the wood; and that the more varnish you put on, the more the grain will express itself.” ― Charles Dickens,
Or you can also say: put lipstick on a pig, put rouge on the corpse, making a purse out of a swine’s ear, putting a racing stripe on a … am I allowed to say it here? Probably not. Better leave it at that.
I think basically what Dickens wanted to say is: you can’t hide someone’s true nature. And I believe him. One’s genetic makeup is very hard to alter. Sure, surroundings, upbringing, experience and all those things could have an effect on someone’s innate nature but only on the surface, it cannot change what lies beneath. One’s inner essential nature will always come through sooner or later.
I’m not saying someone can be born a saint or evil and who can say what makes those people act a certain way. A basically good person can commit a grave offense out of desperation, necessity, passion, anger or whatever valid for that moment reason she or he might have but it doesn’t make them a bad human being automatically. You can almost see the genetic makeup of a person by his actions, the nature of their crimes, and how they react to a certain situation. Unplanned circumstances always provoke spontaneous reactions. And that’s when you can see how people truly are, by the way they handle crisis and surprises.
I remember breaking up with someone after accidentally observing his behavior towards others. It was a simple occurrence. We were aboard a public vehicle and the driver stopped to let an elderly passenger in. The person had a difficulty ascending the steps and my then boyfriend was sitting by the door. He could have easily extended his hand and help but he never did nor offered his seat to that person who was clearly having troubles to remain standing during that treacherous ride because of his advanced age. In the end, I gave up my place so the person could sit.
What happened was a revelation to me. My boyfriend was a gentleman. Caring, solicitous, respectful and sweet. To me he was. But to others, he could not care less. And that is something I cannot possibly accept. God knows what he gonna do later in the relationship when the cloak and dagger aspect of courtship is over. I decided I’ve seen enough and dropped him just like that. I believe I made the right decision.
What about you? Do you think I made the right decision?
I would love to hear your thoughts on the subject of genetic makeup in general if you care to impart your knowledge. Nothing too fancy or complicated, just your own truth and beliefs. It is always nice to hear other people’s input. I have learned so much that way.
Now, at this very moment, I will trade everything to be able to swim in a natural spring water again. It was such a long time ago that I have experienced that kind of feeling, free, uninhibited and clean. A privilege that most of my countrymen are taking for granted especially those that are on the lower rung of the status ladder and living close to these kinds of natural environments not knowing my dream (and probably other people like me) is situated on their backyards…
Does age matters?
Yes, it certainly does.
No matter what others might say or want you to believe.
It matters in all sorts of ways.
I married someone eleven years my junior and my first husband was eleven years older than me. Though it doesn’t/didn’t matter to us it matters to the outside world and to the family. It matters physically in the sense of I/he was approaching middle age and starting to show and feel the telltale signs that belong to that age while he/I was barely out of his/my twenties. It matters psychologically/mentally as well. People constantly evolve and their preferences and mindset are constantly changing through the years. The differences are so apparent sometimes it can’t be ignored. It matters emotionally as well. How people react sometimes is a great deal depends on their age and the level of maturity. So is the way they handle problems and situations. Someone has to take responsibility and often times if not always, it falls to the shoulders of the one who is older and more experienced partner.
Socially it matters as well. Your circle of friends don’t belong to the same generation and it can pose quite some problems especially in the beginning. Like with my ex-husband for example, I was still in my teens while he was already in his thirties and going out wasn’t a straightforward matter. We didn’t even have the same taste in music. We ended up leading separate lives.
It matters financially too. Not only career wise but the actual earnings as well. You can’t compare a salary of someone who is barely out of school to somebody who is more experienced and already has a long work history behind him. Try to imagine this: Your spouse is already on a pension while you still have a decade or more before you can take yours, or vice versa. I think it is not easy for both dealing with this situation. I have seen problems arise between couples once they reached this stage whereas before they didn’t have any problems at all regarding age differences.
Deciding to have children when there is more than a generation gap between a couple is another matter to consider. I know someone personally who in his fifties married someone who was still in mid-thirties and had a five-year-old kid. See what I mean? No one wants to be a parent anymore at that advanced age. People might think it’s your grandchild instead. There is nothing wrong with that but going through with that stage (again) when all you want is to be peaceful and relax enjoying the fruit of your hard work instead of waking up in the middle of the night to feed a crying infant or dealing with teenager tantrums and late night escapades. No, thank you.
Age matters. It really does. Especially when the theories put suddenly to practice. And I don’t even talk about balding/thinning hair and sagging skin, gaining weight and declining libido and all that jazz.
So, next time you think/say age doesn’t matter; think again…
My blog? Snippets of random thoughts, ideas, beliefs, opinions, views, hopes, dreams and fears. No chronological order, no labels, no category. Just pure feelings coming from the heart. It may be vague and irrational at times but always real, honest and true. This is me on a plate without embellishments and trimmings, take it or leave it. It may not be everyone’s cup of tea but I don’t know any other way. I can edit my words but not my thoughts and feelings. And even if I could I would not. What is the use of having a voice and your own corner if you can’t say what you want? It is like whispering in your own house, afraid somebody might hear you. No, I can’t do that. I will always adhere to common decency and approach each topic politically correct but I would not dilute my writings so it suits sensitive ears and weak minds. I will never apologize for being myself. I know the path to freedom is not the easiest path to traverse, I have been on it since day one. Lots of hurdles but I can’t go off course, that would mean lying to you and to myself. I would appreciate if you walk with me down this road but I would also understand if you can’t. Not everyone is cut out for this journey. I will always be grateful I have met you along the way. These random encounters taught me a lot about life. I will continue this expedition with an open mind and an open heart as always. Maybe we will meet again someday. Take care and see you around…
“If I could reach for something brilliant, that would be the home which been denied to me and the presence of the peace I’ve never known.”
I put this phrase on the right sidebar of my homepage. I yada-yada-ya countless times about my roots being pulled out before they can even have a chance to settle and get hold and never having a contingency to grow and flourish in a familiar soil. I teared up when I heard someone on TV said: “A tree without roots is just a piece of wood.” Why? Because the subject of home and family are two major sensitive issues for me. Always been always will be.
I have experienced countless betrayal by blood and like I already said before, that is the most painful deception somebody could experience in a lifetime. The wounds never heal and continue bleeding. It is not easy to get over it. It hurts.
As you probably have already guessed by now, I am living on a foreign soil. I arrived here 30 years ago and I’m still here. Let’s face it, skin colour matters no matter what others say and want to believe. I can never be white and that brings circumstances. I will not bore you with the details. Besides, this post is not about that topic. It’s about hanging in a limbo, not here nor there. I don’t feel at home in my own country, I live here for too long I don’t belong there anymore. I don’t understand a lot of things and at times I find that their views in life are narrow and limited and like here people are prejudiced and judgmental. They can’t look beyond their beliefs and fixed ideas. I feel like a stranger in my own country. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I expect too much. Forgetting that cultures will always clash. But then again, what happened to open minds? I told you, I expect too much.
When I was still living with my ex-husband I had a constant feeling of being in a transit. I knew I had a final destination but where? Other times I felt that I was having a nightmare (and really it was) and going to wake up eventually but when? I did manage to escape but it doesn’t mean I found a home. I’m still searching for it. In the process, I lost my children. They become estranged from me. The last time I have spoken to my daughter was almost two years ago. Again, it hurts. I am still trying to reconcile with the fact.
I often wonder if I will ever find a place I truly belong. A home which I can call my own and feel secure. Maybe what they say is true. That home is not a place but like hell is a state of mind. I don’t know.
Lately, I seem to be swimming in a thick syrup, like honey or even better, sludge. Every movement is laboured, forced. Nothing is spontaneous or enjoyable. I lost my mojo.
The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants – (1350)
BY EMILY DICKINSON
The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants –
At Evening, it is not
At Morning, in a Truffled Hut
It stopopon a Spot
As if it tarried always
And yet it’s whole Career
Is shorter than a Snake’s Delay –
And fleeter than a Tare –
’Tis Vegetation’s Juggler –
The Germ of Alibi –
Doth like a Bubble antedate
And like a Bubble, hie –
I feel as if the Grass was pleased
To have it intermit –
This surreptitious Scion
Of Summer’s circumspect.
Had Nature any supple Face
Or could she one contemn –
Had Nature an Apostate –
That Mushroom – it is Him!
If it means quaint, odd, strange, queer, eccentric, outlandish, bizarre, whimsical, then that is me. Oh, I have my own unique brand of droll self-mockery also. I laugh when I feel uneasy, I laugh when I see something terrible or read about hardship and misery. I laugh when I don’t feel good and I laugh when I’m sad. I have a very dry sense of humour and I am pretty ironic. You can say I am a droll little girl.
“All art is a kind of confession, more or less oblique. All artists, if they are to survive, are forced, at last, to tell the whole story; to vomit the anguish up.” ― James Baldwin
Did you ever hear the song “Beautiful in White?” If not, you’re lucky. This one is a torture. Worse than Mariah Carey or Björk (Yeah personal choices people, don’t get on your high horses) The song is flat and so annoyingly repetitive it drives me crazy. This one phrase in particular: “You look so beautiful in white, you look so beautiful in white, you look so beautiful in whiiiiiiiittte…. If I am in prison and they want me to confess to anything, all they have to do is play this song 24/7 and I will probably end up hanging myself.
But you know what’s remarkable about music like these? They get trapped in your brain and stick with you for days playing that one particular part you hate the most. Catchy songs aren’t always good people. See for yourself if you don’t believe me.
Small Stories of a Twenty-Something Adventuring Through Life
One day at a time...
I had no idea what I was doing, or what I am doing. It's a fun and crazy adventure.
Cooking, gardening, traveling and photographing around the globe
My words will either attract a strong mind or offend a weak one.
Riddle of the century? Yes, that's her.
The latest news on WordPress.com and the WordPress community.
Celebrating gardens, nature, photography and a creative life
The Art and Craft of Blogging
I'm Michelle. This is my blog. I write about women and fatness, expound upon semi-coherent thoughts I have in the middle of the night, and offer tough love to those in whom I am disappointed; they are legion.
Creative and technical writing, design and translation services
Life Through The Lens