Hawkeye

Vitruvian Man, by my favorite artist of all time Leonardo Da Vinci...



KevinM

Art Quote of the Day
Everything that is beautiful and noble is the product of reason and calculation.
Charles Baudelaire


... At some point God in his Heaven decided to make an angel that went around kicking smart alecs like me in the pants..... If I ever think I am too smart, too pretty, too brilliant…

My brother is one of those ‘Kick-ass’: Angels....

The other one is my old adversary, and beloved Brain-Mate... (Well you have heard of Soul-Mates).... KevinM...

If SteveS, created order in madness, then the level of its intensity was regularised by Kevin, who would pour petrol on it, and with his sidekick Mike H.. a man whose little blonde son was one of the smartest children I have ever been tested by intellectually! I still have his photo from when he was about 5 years old!

Together Kevin and Mike looked like and were the clones of Captain "Hawkeye" Pierce, & Captain "Trapper" John McIntyre.

Kevin and I appeared to others to be great friends, but I can tell you now, it was all an illusion. The picture above reminds me of the person who is attached to the wheel board and spun whilst the knife thrower takes aim. Even as I pen, I am sharpening my knives.

I tried so many times to drop him in it.. ‘It’ being the proverbial manure! But he always managed to sidestep, and I fell in myself, flat on my well-toned ass!

Kevin was put on this earth specifically to find me, and create combat manoeuvres, before I had a chance to, and ruin ALL my well-laid plans to incite disorder, from which I always came off worse then my victims, thanks to Kevin.

Due to his soul-link to me, it means I will come across and experience him in all subsequent after-lives/re-incarnations. I have checked this with my spiritual angels and they confirm this!

It was as if our lives were on a sliding scale, so that he could increase his remit without loss of control, and I would escalate to no avail, because he always came off well…

Apart from one time…

Which I will write about in another person’s story!

He reminds me of one key character and that is ‘James Stewart’…. The film that he reminds me most of all of Kevin’s natural personality is ‘It’s a Wonderful World’.

He shared his entire family with me, a composite image: his stunning wife would send me a card and picture of his beautiful children, his daughter in particular when she was about 5 years old… simply took my breath away, because she was like a fairy, so delicate that I turned her around to see if her back had gossamer wings!

I was vibrant, vivacious, capricious and very energetic, as a child, I also had baby muscles, because from an early age I would pick my baby brother up, and carry him around for as long as I could, for distance, I dragged him around, and no-one stopped me, I protected him, and loved him.

I never once dropped him because I adored him more than my life… now no-one who saw me as a little girl thought I was delicate, I was athletic, and often tried to pick my father up, at the age of twelve I picked my father up, and swung him around!

I thought it was great to have power and strength.

When I saw Kevin’s little sugar plum fairy, child, I felt a pang of envy, I wished I could have been as delicate and exquisite as she was when I was a little girl, instead of being a child-like: Calamity Jane… strong, supple, gymnast, a sprinter or rather muscular and sporty!

His little girl looked like a fairy, like a ballerina and I just wondered how she would turn out in 20 years!

Certainly not the way I am!

Once when I was in Junior School a much bigger girl tried to ask for my pocket money, I pushed her into a bush, and she damaged her wrist.

I looked at his little girl she was a flower fairy, magical and of another world, almost covered in translucent fairy dust! I kneeled at her feet and felt like I wanted to bow my head to her, and say that I would be her protector for ever, she was like a delicate petal, you wondered how any child like her could grow into a strong adult when she appeared so rose-budlike!

Whenever he bent down to kiss me goodbye, (like most Saggitarian: half man/half horse), he would miss time his approach and collide with me, yet these constant head butts, and dents to his brain, never once diminished his repartee delivered with mathematical precision!

Whenever the MD/CEO my boss, called me into one of those spontaneous meetings where you are suspiciously close to being admonished, or receiving a brown envelope.... I would quickly slip on my smart ‘suit of armour’ business jacket, (I come from old school, where like the Koreans, Japanese, and other old-worldly Samurai warriors – you dress for the occasion…

Where you do not meet your boss without a jacket: this ensures I behave myself, as far as I am able, and that I am in the frame of mind of being in a formal setting)... then I would make a quick stop at Kevin's office, look in and lean around the door to say... 'Hey Kevin, Phil wants me to see him, how should I prepare?'

... He was always absolutely NO HELP whatsoever, without looking up from his typewriter, he would quip with some ‘smart alec’ remark that helped me about as much as if I walked into the MD/CEO's office with a buttery custard and lemony meringue pie!

'.... Sapphire, how dare you put in print what others only dare to think in private!'

'Sapphire, whatever you do, make sure your explanation does not include me being in the same region as you, when you did what you did'.

'Sapphire, you deserve every thing you get, and it is about time too'.

'Sapphire, your latest email, did it, that was the one, you have affronted the sensibilities of everyone who thought they were on safe ground and now they are exposed belly up'...

I would shrug, but secretively think, I wished I had a custard pie right there, and then hurry off to meet my Leader!

.. Once a friend of mine who understood me well, bought me the Latin book of insults... now this along with other's similarly described are some of my favourite books!

In a previous life I must have been a camel trader, swearing and curses at the local merchants about their faces resembling all the known refuse of the animal kingdom!

I can relate entirely to KIM the Rudyard Kipling child, (though he was the exact duplicate of my brother.... when I saw that film I saw my brother in action as a child!)

Well, once day I decided to end a couple of my emails concerning the competency of some of my fellow manager's or rather lack of.... by adding some latin insults.

Now this could have been quite a delicious activity, except that Kevin, remarkably because you do not see intelligence in his face you see EARNEST endeavours! He knew Latin!

I mean he came back with so much Latin at me, that I sent him one Latin phrase to end all!

'SMART ALEC!'

Followed by: as many insults as I could find that compensated for my own lack of Latin conjecture!

However, I must add that the book of French Insults remains with the Italian book of insults on my bookshelf, because just my luck he is probably as proficient in both!


... Kevin used to make me do a twirl every time he saw me wear something he liked ... sometimes he would quip as I walked up the stairs... 'Hey Hyacinth!' Because I wore Lavender, and pale avocado green....

Or.... 'Hey Cleopatra'.... because I wore an African choker....

In a single word, he could shoot an arrow of measured accuracy - straight to the heart of the matter, and with unfailing precision that he made me sick!! Apart from my father, I have never known anyone with such a quick response and so few words!

If his gorgeous wife had not married him, I would have - JUST to make him suffer for the rest of his life! This would be the only punishment that would get the better of him! I am just waiting for his wife to kick him out on his ear because he has broken all her china, (he is clumsy and coltish)! And that day, I am noosing him and dragging him to a preacher! THEN I am going to get him back - every day, until I kill him! I have his number; he played more jokes on me than anyone else...

He is and looks like, HAWKEYE ... from MASH!

... When he is in a room, it isn't his great looks, tall stature and imposing height (6ft 4") that strikes you, it is his sheer left footed clumsiness, if he hasn't spilt coffee all over your perfectly printed presentation, then he has knocked over your flower vase across your keyboard ... (when I am happy at work I ALWAYS have a vase of flowers on my desk... I supplement the blooms from what I can steal from the company car park. ... If I am miserable you will see immediately that there are no flowers on my desk!

.... He once danced with me at a corporate event, and left my toes battered... I in turn kicked him whenever the chance arose ... and it arose ALLOT because he is like a radar, tuned into everyone in the room and around him, like a typical Saggi-Archer he has his eye on every single moving object, and whilst he is dancing with you he is also sparring with others around you!

He will then begin to sing. ... okay now his long suffering wife, told me that he always is the first to leap to the stage for any karaoke! What does he sing for me the first time I had the great tragedy to hear him howl! 'Hey YOU Pussycat'. ... By Tom Jones!

What was astounding is that the English people listening to him cheered him on… they wanted more, they couldn’t get enough of him! He had girls close to throwing their telephone numbers at him!

Now had the Welsh (famous for their angelic perfect pitch, harmony) had heard Kevin, they would have caused a riot, thrown beer bottles at him, and possibly stoned him!

He is tone deaf, but despite all urgings, pleadings and pledges to pay him off to stop, he refuses, he goes up there takes a deep breath, dedicates this song to me, drags me up there too, and as you will know if you have heard me sing, I sound a cross between Presley, Doris Day and Marilyn Monroe!

. ... so now there we are, can I harmonise with him, like HELL! Only starving cats and baying wolves can meet his pitch and timbre!

Can I escape from the stage... Nahhh, I am trapped there because he has his arm around my neck in a headlock of affection. ... And he himself is so poetically moved by his own painful rendition that a tear appears in his eye corner and he is wiping it on the back of his sleeve, because he hears Harry Bellefonte emanating from his own lips! We hear something akin to a man falling down the stairs followed by a piano!

... What is most incomprehensible is that he cannot comprehend criticism; he has no sensitive thin skin to help me along with hurting him! No amount of abuse, verbal, or written can daunt him, he is unflappable, and he would have been the sole survivor on the Titanic... His optimistic happy go lucky nature is so sickening, that he makes Pollyanna appear merely grisly and like ‘Whistler’s mother’.

His spirit is indomitable, his sense of urgency is vital and passionate and he like me thinks with his head ... but unlike me - he carries his heart on his sleeve, and his soul full of un-tuneful songs!

He is coltish, skittish, and like an overgrown Bambi ... but to underestimate the big lug is the first mistake you can make because his permanent smile is natural and generated by some kind of inner fiery tornado that is unquenchable!

My luck I would have been stuck on the end of the hull with him, AND he would have sung - because he has a way of torturing you when you are least able to escape.

... When he goes to his Maker, it will be with my knife in his vocal cords, OR - unusual circumstances... Internal combustion...

When they come looking for a torch, lighter fluid, or a zippo. ... And the scraps of prose that appear to be mine, which look like it was bundled and used as combustible fuel around his ankles... I will have a sure fast alibi! It will be that I am on some project working for SteveS, because HE is so loyal to me, and he only person who would be my best cover ... particularly when I need a sympathetic jury!

He outmanoeuvred me, out-thought, and out-classed me when it came to setting up a sting... he matched me wit-for-wit, he outfoxed me, and I am planning my comeback.

One of these days, I am going to work in his company, and then I am going to get even with him...

Next to my brother - he is the one man that beat me at every parry, every cross and double-cross, you would think he was psychic, because he could predict my every move, and his hunting tactics, were second to my brother... But then no one can beat my brother in battle, look who his father was!

My mother recently reminded me of a story about dad. Once a man made a pass at my mom, my father asked him where he lived and to show him the alleged love letters that he said my mom had written to him, to wind Dad up. Well my dad dropped mom off at his in-laws, he then went to the guys house, and sat outside there for around 9 hours! Eventually an older brother came out and asked what my dad was waiting for. My father explained, his silent vigil. 7 hours later the man finally emerged, apologising! My father gave him a single punch in the nose; the man needed stitches but was unconscious for several minutes! I have my Father’s patience! My brother has my father’s humour!

... There are no depths I won't stoop to get even...

If it takes a lifetime, of planning, plotting and conniving... There is missile with Kevin’s face listed on it. ... Someday, somehow, someplace...

However, I will pick my moment, when he is on some stage accepting an accolade and about to go into his speech!

Hope he is allergic and has an adverse reaction to buttery custard and lemony meringue pie!

Clock Explosion

Clock Explosion by Salvador Dali...


Art Quote of the Day
'...Painting is an infinitely minute part of my personality...'
Salvador Dali


....Always reminds me of my ex-boss SteveS, also one of my favourite all time managers....

SteveS, and I have known each other over 12 years, he has a deep sensual Scottish accent, and his father was a famous writer, so Steve has a well turned phrase or crafted sentence consistly weaving through his own communications. I really like - actually I adore him! With his warm labrador eyes, and curly mop of hair, when he smiles at you, you automatically respond, as if he has a direct line to your soul; and he can pull on heart-strings, like all true Virgo's with an illusive aloofness, that draws you in with its underplayed naturalness.

I worked in total for him for about 8 years... in two different companies, a seeker of 'good men'. He is like the leader of the A'Team. No-one has ever been able to come back to me and quote him as being anything but a resourceful, cost-container, someone who appreciates the value of time and money, and moreover, his investment in you is without doubt, the most loyal, and stoic I have seen. It compels you to wish to succeed for him, particularly as when you screw up, he smiles graciously, knowingly, and with acute painstaking comprehension. What I mean by this is that he is no-ones fool, he can see right through your material, he reminds me of my mother, she was a Quality Test Engineer for about 20 years for Mars (the Bastards: they abused, and used many poor immigrants, in their Slough & Wokingham factories, many like my mother have toxins in their bodies due to solder fume and poor ventilation exposure)... My mother is so smart that she can read you like a book!

We each are open books to Steve, he does not say much, but if he ever provides you with another 'man's profile, you can be sure he has all his facts. Unlike me, he is much kinder, and thoughtful when he presents his case!


He often enlisted me into projects at the eleventh hour confident in my ability to turn them into successes, and.... I wanted to write about him but lost the floppy that I was working on, you see sometimes I take my laptop out with me and sit in a coffee shop and just write my short essays on personalities as I view them, and this time I couldnt find the actual document.
If you have ever seen Rochford Files and James Garner in those detective role, series, then I have to say that my ex-Boss and current Friend of over 11 years SteveS, is a perfect example of that kind of easy going, unaffected, carefree charm….

Now why this picture?

Clock explosion immediately makes me think of Steve, because he is cultured, he can move effortlessly through any situation, and no matter how chaotic he appears calm, in control, and takes the trouble to check in with you before he takes his step, in other words he is a perfect Director, because he doesn’t manage you – he allows you the autonomy you require to be successful, steps in when you are needing a one-minute manager, and at the same time is there fore a fatherly hug (despite being young) when you feel things are rocky and need reassurance.

I once, saw him going to his senior Director meeting, as always polished, sharply suited, rather like the yachtsman he is – looking as if he is on a mission… and then I saw him do something quite remarkable.

Now he is a Virgo, with Sean Connery’s type of incredible Scawtteesh accent…. That deep, throaty whiskey voice that melts you! Well, he is apt, appropriate, to the point, basically like all Virgos economy in all things particularly his ability to harness skill sets. He is someone who will invest in training in such an intelligent way that to work for him you leave him far better equipped than you started!

In other words he invests in his resources, and he ensures that his resource (his people) are continually learning, and achieving skills that can empower them to be more effective, appropriate and capable. In fact those are his keywords when he is sourcing his resources. When you think of his approach, then it is easy to understand why he achieves success in the most politically active clock explosions!!! He shows a measured calm and he makes sure he trusts the best, and surrounds himself only with the best!

Now remember this – the fact that he does not waste his time nor does he waste yours! Well, he polished the face of his watch as he walked past me, with a kind of genuine pride, in his timekeeping, which was as usual like an efficient clock… reliable.!!

Now when I saw him polish the face of his watch with his sleeve, I felt an immediate affection – it was such an endearing moment, that I never forgot it. It was subtle and executed almost in a subconscious way, and I realised this was not the first time I had seen him do something - a small minute, subtle and unique act... entirely different… to anyone else. Look around, have you ever seen any one going to his meeting, polishing his watch? I daresay not.

I found myself immediately remembering many other incidents, which identify this unique self-possessed intelligent expression of his inner workings. Imagine his inner dialogue is one of well crafted personal attendance to his objective. He is NOT someone who is running through life without purpose, or innattentive to his surrounding environment. Whilst he appears always thoughtful, his brain is like a well oiled car, reliable, cost effective, and always able to burn up the rubber when required to. He is one of the most unflappable men I know.

Now to give you a little background on him and I, he often put me in charge of projects that at the 11th hour required a firm handle, and he trusted me implicitly, he did not chase me, he did not nag me and he empowered me fully, once a month very casually he would ask me how I was getting on, this was done in such a non-combative way, maybe when he was getting coffee…. And he would ask in a manner that I couldn’t duplicate, as if he was busy with something else and just asking casually…

Well, I would immediately reply, (I always know the status of all my projects, there is no way that I let anything within my remit drift without being in control of my area)…. So now I would say, ‘when you are free, I can show you?’

He would allocate time and he would reliably be available to me for as long as I needed. If anyone interrupted us, he made it clear I was special, important to him and a priority, regardless of the other person’s item of interest.

Now, if I had any difficulties, Steve was a wonderful person to bounce my thoughts off, because he can diffuse any situation, no matter how volatile he has a way of cutting through the proverbial crap! He can sense bullshit like a captain in a submarine finding his way through underwater mines… By his sheer reliance on his quick wits, he confidence in his men, and his comprehension of issues that are beyond normal reasoning because to know of them, people have to trust you, and that is his key strength, he can be trusted.

At corporate events he would turn up in his Scottish kilt, along with the other proud and gorgeously attired Scotsmen… they looked like the cover of Porridge Oats… I found this an impressive indication of how unique Scotsman area, they have an innate sense of belonging that is fabulous to someone like me from mixed backgrounds!

Steve is someone who is so companionable, that to not see him in my workplace was something I found difficult, I was so used to having the ‘key to his city’, literally, his door was always open to me along with his best and closest friend and Ally, KevinM… now there is an essay about him in the draft stages, which I will hopefully get around to, but I am looking for a painting to illustrate his many qualities.

Well, these two, it felt to me as if they were Godsend.

Once I wrote an email that was quite critically acclaimed in the company about one of our beautiful female directors, it was meant to be funny, and fortunately she also saw the funny sides of it. Now Kevin was my boss at the time, and he decided to forward my email to Steve, (they always did this, whenever I sent something funny).

Now Steve had printed this mail off, and had intended to go to the printer to collect it but was waylaid.

One of the senior Account Manager’s Liz_P, was heavily pregnant, and she told me this later that day.

She said that when she went to the printer she saw my email, she found herself reading it (this was not new, as my funny emails were often forwarded on and managers would laugh when I bumped into them, and it could be embarrassing but it was always in a nice way) She said, that she lived to read my emails, that she was glad to share a printer with Steve, because my emails to him would be conscientiously considered. On this occasion she said that she actually took my email to the girls room with her, and realised as she laughed aloud to herself there, that in fact she had done something naughty which was to take Steve’s personal email and to read it by removing it from the printer. She immediately took it back and then when she bumped into me, she hugged me very suddenly and all the while laughing!

She said that I was lucky to be so fully supported by Kevin and Steve, that I was fortunate that they clearly cared for me because their notes were consistently positive about me, and that I made her day, and she wished that whenever I wrote one of my scathingly accurate shark attack emails to any of the manager’s about a situation or event that I would include her on the mail list, she added that she wished that she was on Kevin’s and Steve’s email list because they were as funny and when the three of us engaged in a battle of wits she really wished she had the speed to be part of the dialogue of mental parry that we often deployed as a way to diffuse our frustrations at the industry we were in which was IT!

Now if you know Steve, then you cannot avoid his humour, he is dry, witty, and has absolutely no malice, or spite in him. In all the years I have known him, he has never once undermined any member of his team, or his profession. If he has an issue with someone he handles it with grace, comprehension of the weaknesses in play, and in such a way as to ensure that no one doubts his understanding… Also, he is fantastic at taking the mundane and imbuing within it something unusual, and making a statement that allows you a tactical style that can achieve more than you originally thought possible.

When I worked with him, there was always some woman infatuated with him, and you could see so easily why, he is someone that women can work with, respect and be understood by. He is charming without ego, or vanity, he is soft hearted, yet critically in tune with his measurements and his external pressures. He can pick his battles and he doesn’t have any pettiness to his character to frustrate you. The worst thing I could say of him is his over protectiveness of those he loves, cares for or has responsibility for, until he has seen for himself – their scope, once he is confident of them, he is without doubt the most giving, and generous man I have ever worked with.

He doesn’t hesitate to put his hand in his own pocket to help you, and if he thinks you are looking through ‘rose coloured glasses; he will with a warm smile make a statement as wise as the ‘Rockford’, with the Police or some person that needs guidance, something to the effect that you end up laughing at how foolish the whole situation, or incident is.

That takes a canny knowledge of people. SteveS knows people!

Say you have an issue with someone at his level, he is the kind of person who you can entrust your concerns to and know that he is not going to embellish, ‘create’, or worsen the event described to him; whilst you work through the situation, instead he can make you feel relaxed in the knowledge that you could trust him and not worry that now you have opened up to him it is going to put you into a precarious political direction.

That is a gift, to know the appropriate thing to do, he missed his true vocation, which is to have been in the medical profession, as he is so calming, and so reassuring that you know that his dependable loyalty to you is authentic and like him reliable.

He has a lovely wife, and a beautiful little girl who looks like her parents, with adorable features that encompasses his warmth, he sincerity and his kindness within her face.

Whenever I have to count the people I love (I need two hands) he is one of those friends, someone that is dear to me because when you are trusted the way that he trusts and believes in me, it is a gift, whenever anyone has ever come to me from him the wonderful pledges of goodwill, astute perception he has of me, has surprised me, I mean, he really knows me… I am always surprised at how well he can describe me and how accurate he is.

He knows my weaknesses, and he knows my strengths, he knows better than anyone who would work well for me, and with me, and who won’t, moreover he could design my specification for any role, knowing the chances of my success without any doubts, and with such precision that I am in awe of his capability at being able to pick skills.

One thing I can say is that if he were a lawyer, picking his line up for a jury in defence of my case (say I had a case) – then he would be the soundest chooser! No one could better him, because in all the projects I worked on for him, he had the strongest, and competency wise, best team.

When anyone complained to me about the fact that he didn’t ‘manage’ them, it made me laugh as he is an adult, he acts like an adult and he is always prepared to provide support, and guidance where he is asked, if he isn’t asked he respects your individuality, your boundaries and your thought processing, to the degree that he will say… ‘I am not a mind reader, if you do not tell me, I have to let you continue’.

He was the first person that wrote up on the board for me the following… Do not ASSUME or it makes an ASS out of U, and ME!

Then he laughed, he was absolutely right, I learnt a lot about managing large groups from him, most of all I learnt how to give enough rope until a person hung themselves!

This is said unequivocally, I mean I have seen people manage different groups, but he is without question the best person to pick out a crew!

Steve brings out the feminine qualities in me more than most managers, I have worked for, because he is so kind to me and so friendly, really amicable and easy going and when he starts to laugh with that whiskey, gravely laugh of his, it is so enticing, it draws you in, I have seen him cry with laughter at things I have done, which I was rather late on ‘getting’, I mean I literally was the last to get the joke, because sometimes I am funny and don’t see why. Well he is someone who spots my comedic side, before it has fully blown!

When I used to work with him, even when he wasn’t my manager, I would always make him a cup of coffee when I made myself one, because he was always forgetting to eat or drink, I mean he would suddenly realise it was 3 o’clock and he needed fuel! It was easy to see him working late, or being the last person to have a coffee, and a couple of times just as I saw him walk into his meeting I would hand him a discreetly placed cup, so that he had a drink, or I would pretend to be his PA and bring in nice coffees for his guests, (we didn’t always have that kind of hospitality where we worked)… and his appreciation was always so immoderate, and gracious that you wanted to do more.

Well, I started this short essay about 5 weeks ago, and then I lost it on a floppy because I went to my mom’s and forgot it there… then last week she found it and emailed this to me… so I am going to add the last few lines to this….

I really really miss our old days when we were the entire crowd together; I cannot begin to thank Steve for hiring me back and trying to hire me more than once in the past 5 years! I consider him one of the most precious anchors in my life, and when we were leaving, through redundancy, I asked him not to forget me, I gave him a big hug, and said, firmly that I wanted him to keep in touch, that he should forgive me for all the times I put him into a situation where he had to protect my turf, from managers who wished me to be less autonomous, and finally that he was very special to me.

Little did I know that he really listened to me, and that he would stay within my inbox, always – a pleasant arrival within it!

One time, I was caught writing poetry by him in my lunch hour (actually, it wasn’t ha ha ha.. it was at the height of a complex project!) I usually when I am firing on all pistons at a project and at my most diligent, have a page open with some poetry on it… it is something that helps me to think, and unlike those who scivve off to a ciggy break, my escape from mundane jobs is to kick off a piece of prose.

Well, Steve’s father was a famous Scottish writer, so Steve knows the outline of metre when he sees it, and he came up to me and said very softly, ‘hey that is okay, you carry on with your poetry, but whenever you can – show it to me, I would like to read it – AND, when you get a minute just let me know the timelines for such and such’.

Now he was being sincere, supportive and wasn’t be sarcastic or pushy, he trusted me implicitly and knew that I would deliver on time, but that this was my mental release and he had no issues with it, he just wanted the best from me, and how I did it was up to me.

I really like that! I think a lot of people could learn from this…. It is like being allowed to think, breathe and energise others as well as yourself whilst you continue to achieve your goals!

I think that he is a product of his internalised dialogue, which is empowering relaxed, completely dependable and reliant on laissez-faire, an egalitarian viewpoint! He is my Rockford!

Empowerment: is an infinitely minute part of HIS personality

A Man for all ages...

Michael K:

A friend of mine, who when you see him he immediately makes you wonder his roots, is he Asian, Spanish (yeap he is half English/half Spanish)…Egyptian, Persian, Italian, the list can go on, because his features are extraordinarily those of a man of all times, of all nations… Lean delicate features, coppery bronze skin, muscular body, as this is written – mid thirties. Shock of dark hair, with the handsome lean looks of a Bollywood star, or if you were to stick him into some ancient clothes, he would quite easily float in and out of different ages, a soldier here, perhaps a sailor, maybe a merchant…

In fact he looks very like Peter Andre...

Now I had always seen him around, my local town, for around 10 years… socially we would smile or nod at each other, but he was reserved, shy, and you never saw him either appearing foolish, or drunk out of control. Then I had to work at a great engineering firm, I was temping there, and as I walked up the stairs I had the feeling I was going to meet someone I already knew. I walked in and within five minutes of being handed a coffee by the lovely Office Manager, Sarah, a great northern lass, easily liked, quick to connect with, her warmth, openness and direct involvement with you matched replaced by her efficiency, and all round skills…. I told her my earlier thoughts, and asked her when she was having her baby? She laughed and said she wasn’t planning it and I replied well how strange, I sensed you were, she was a very slim woman very early thirties, and we both laughed…. Within the year she emailed me to say she was very due!!!!

As I stood there organising my desk, I smelt the fresh tangy scent of aftershave, and turned there was Michael! He laughed and said, ‘hey you, what are you doing here?’

From that moment I knew we were going to be friends, he loved mince pies, I was a great provider, it was November I would be gone by April, but it was one of the best places to work, more so because he made it so welcome.

I always knew if he was nearby because his fresh aftershave would drift ahead, heralding his quiet gentle arrival. The girls in the office all spoke of him affectionately and also because he was after all ‘eye candy’.

We struck up almost an unspoken, wordless understanding between each other. To explain, I am considered vivacious, bubbly, perhaps quick witted and razor sharp, I like to think I am quite sassy, or streetwise, and feel rather self-assured because of an unfailing belief that I am and have always been loved by my family, in particular my closeness to my enigmatic father. I know that this is a source of strength to me, because families can make or break you.

Now I find it very easy to befriend or be considered a friend of those who are shier, more reserved and more thoughtful, rather than like myself ebullient, obviously because that is the exact complimentary natures of my vibrant mother and private father.

Well Michael, reminded me of the sensitivity in a masculine intelligent man that my father is graced with.

At was a very gradual friendship, I should add we never developed crushes on each other, it was more like if you met your inner child in another human, and it was that innocent part of you that smile back.

To explain, he would walk up to my desk, then through long black eyelashes, smile up softly and say… ‘Hey you, what are you up to?’. Now this immediately made me act guilty, make a mistake or break a machine…. Which would make me remark, ‘Drat, I have broken it now!’… then he would laugh amiably walk around and fix it. He would then look intently at the copier, the fax, the scanner whatever I had just disrupted and ask without looking up, what I had done over the weekend, what I wa doing that evening, just gentle questions showing he was interested… he would nod if I mentioned anyone we mutually knew, or suddenly laugh quickly and tell me off I said something particularly wicked or slap me amicably on the arm the way you do with a child. I realised that he was the sort of father that would be perfect around girls.


This picture reminds me of Michael, he has this Mediterranean appeal, Sans Titre, 1948, by Dali...


When we bumped into each other socially, he would always follow the same pattern… he would bend down (he is about 6ft 1-2”) kiss me on the cheek, softly, then step back and suddenly hug me like a big teddy…lifting me off the ground and with a sincerity that was moving. When we worked together, I met his beautiful girlfriend, and when I shared my description of him, she said the same thing that he was a true friend, loyal, devoted and discreet. She had known him through her ex-hubby and they were all friends, and now she had fallen in love with him and thought he was quite simply the kindest person she had met. What I like best is that he doesn’t play games with your feelings. He isn’t the type that manipulates others because he simply too self sufficient so he doesn’t need to.

I often spoke to his mom, who would call up for him… and I could see why he was so patient and gently spoken, because she had the same sensitivity.

Every so often you have a special association with a person that just seeing them lights up your world, because although they are not gregarious, or over expressive, they have a genuine interest in you, they don’t reject you when they are in their ‘in-group’, but have the inner grace of integrity to adopt you as if you are their own. Michael is that person, he is a Piscean, and reminds of one Patrick Duffy, the Man from Atlantis... also the long-suffering younger brother of the iniquitous JR... You feel as if you will have him around always, and that he is more than surface beauty and charm, quite unusual and easy to misunderstand because his outer self expression (muscular, lean athletic) is in contrast to his creative (Cad Computer Graphics in engineering), intelligence and sensitivity.

Whenever I bump into him, always when I least expect to, it is the same, like being enveloped by a spring shower… just effusive, friendly banter… and the same affectionate warmth, and a lasting impression that leaves you wishing you could pop him into your handbag and keep him on your desk – you know just sitting there whilst you sipped your coffee… all smelling nice, great aftershave… and attentive – great listener…. And say when the other horrid girls walk in, ‘he is mine!’ … Just like when you are school and you have that first little boy you like a lot… and when the other girls try to flutter their eyelashes at him, you sabotage them by grabbing his head in a headlock and dragging him off… possessively…because he is your friend and you are not sharing… and he would let you!

That is how I feel when I see him, I think … don’t talk to that silly girl, and you belong to my entourage of favourite people, I don’t like the look of her…. And he brings out the protective spirit in me… Not that he looks vulnerable, but actually if he was a girl, and I was a guy, I would consider him a ‘walkin’ talkin’ livin’ doll’ (courtesy of Sir Cliff Richard!).

Subtle Shades

Each of us has the repeat pattern tendency, to find similar types attractive or a closeness with certain types of personalities or characters, whether it is through history or in real life. I am always hearing others, and myself saying something that sounds like a soft mantra... 'You know, that is just like me...' or ... 'You remind me of my friend.... so and so...' The most frequent statement from those who like studying human nature is, 'You must be a Gemini, the same as me....' [my chameleon, 'Peter-pan' quixote schoolmate: Rube, said this sitting in her parents shop, we were just 17ish... her eagerness for empathy, shining through the spirit of excitement she generates everywhere she is...

I smile, shook my head ... story of my life, everyone everyplace connecting, and thinking we are similar in our qualities... Truly, it is just that moment, for only that moment, I am observant enough to really consider that person's subtle shades, some people call it 'reading aura.' Well, I cannot do that.

There is something quite consistent regarding some of the men and women I have met, and felt connected with. One of the qualities is the loner. That person who can at times illuminate the room with what feels like being someplace barren, whilst they themselves are rich with character.

I am a great walker, with many friends, or partners over the years walking has been a healthy all round past-time, I find that being on the move allows me greater freedom in relaxed thought. I like that you can absorb your surroundings and sometimes the more barren, isolated and remote - the deeper the connection with nature, what is natural and the more removed one feels from the (more in the West) obsession with being productive at work, in work, materially, etc. In fact everyone who has spent time in warmer languorous climates has felt the same easiness that feeling of complacency that makes people sleepy, and quick to siesta...

For me, I love winter walks, with a hot flask, maybe a walking stick in some really fresh woody forest, where there are frozen lakes and rivers that meander through it. I like the company of being with someone who is grounded, and has the same sense of quiet appreciation of the frozen mist, and fog that starts to fall around you. I like the way that the dark trees appear desolate, and the way that there is existing twigs and lace like bushes just sparkling everywhere within the silvery grey reflected shimmers, of still water ... the way that sometimes frozen lakes or streams even puddles have these waves that appear to be spun into a frozen cream, you shudder because everything living is dead or in hibernation and you want to bend forward and blow warm air into the water and see it change colour from icewhite to perhaps a warming umber, or glow greeny lilac.... I like looking close at foliage that has ice crystals all over it, or trees with moss that is silvery white and green then darker green. I like the contrasts in cool colours and then the way that the shades blend with light and darkness enveloping you.



The artist Egidio Antonaccio painted this - 'Forest, Snow'

I feel this wonderful sense of harmony with the fact that the cold surrounds you and if you pour a cup of coffee, the steam is more intense and warming then the drink which is suddenly too hot in contrast to your surroundings. Once in the midst of summer, I dreamt I was in a freezing cold place, and that I was sitting on a bench watching Swans that were still on a frozen lake and hadn't flown South. I woke up shivering, and wondered if it had in fact snowed.

I like people who have enough depth to appreciate nature, and if they have stamina then they will find my energy easy to be around. I think that my mother is fantastic with anyone who is ill. I do feel very sorry for anyone who lacks good health, where they are not fit enough, though I am very sympathetic towards those that are fragile, unwell, or unable to be outdoors - that sometimes you do not have the strength or well being ...

I really like being around hardy outdoor types, I knew a Gran called Mary, who I would have long walks with the dogs... Her husband Bob would shoot game, and hang these up in the old outside loo, that still came with their cottage ... (they had one indoors too)...

I would spend entire weeks just staying with them, when I needed to escape from intense, relentless studying or work pressures. The life with them was basic, earthy and relaxed. We would gather baskets of wild berries and then make up Apple and Blackberry jam to name one of my many favourites. In fact for many years when I was in a thoughtful mood I would take to making jars and jars... I found it quite calming, therapeutic! Her older brother was the Stage Manager at Stratford's Famous Theatre (after being an Examiner for I think it was literature) ... he was a Sagittarius, acid wit, quite a raconteur, dry, and intimidating.

She was a fund of nature/farming/gardening knowledge, and her late relatives were the Rochfords, (gardeners to Royalty), whom Rochford Gardens in Slough are named after. So she could advise you on specifics, in such a detailed manner full of inside knowledge and a canniness ... she was quietly spiritual, a Pisces, with chiselled bonestructure, a voluptuous beauty in her time, and with a laughter that could only be described by the term, 'Roaring with laughter,' in fact she used that term herself quite aptly. She was in her late fifties when I met her.

I have spent most of my life with those that can throw on a pair of jeans and just walk, and mean it... In other words there isn't several cancellations, and 'Yep next week,' and they always have an excuse to stay cosy and warm indoors. I find that when you are with someone willing to experience the seasons and be outside with you that you feel equally illuminated as they do with what you see around you.

I have known a few older people - those who are retired and yet their lives are more enriched by their activity then when they were in jobs, burdened down with their day to day tasks, and sometimes I have spent an entire day with them just walking and being completely in awe of their stamina, their willingness to be there in nature, and just experience it. In fact for almost 8 years I walked every saturday (okay only 10 miles) but I rarely missed a weekend ... sometimes I would do this both saturday and sunday...

The first couple of times the corns and the aches were close to feeling you were lame, but it became easier and more natural to do this.

I like I suppose hiking, and whilst I cannot stand sleeping in a tent, I want my bed, and I want the luxuries wherever possible I am afraid, nevertheless I like the actual moment when you reach your destination and now see how much energy you have for the return journey which is always colder, darker, and more demanding...

Walking back through a darker forest or woody location with friends is both amusing and also quite revealing, because immediately you find your senses alert, you listen more and become hypersensitive to sounds. my favourite time of walking when I was at college was night time, of course it just isn't as safe anymore and you need to be cautious, but there was something quite enigmatic about the way that night-time sounds are just more bewildering, because they are often more muted and something of a reminder of one of Leonardo Da Vinci's paintings. I mean that genius, could paint darkness, he could paint night with so many layers that it had something quite intriguing and left a residual taste of something ominous being there, his humans even had the lovely moonlight mystery of a silky, creamy luminosity.... It is almost as if he is painting Angels in darkness - in the Universe,


Da Vinci could paint the subtlest, deepest hues, such that looking closer, and closer the darkness, the elusive mystery, and the perfect stillness seemed to throb with the softest heartbeat reverberating though out his creations.


His art makes one think of the artist having such a comprehension of what can be defined as the infinite, darkness, where shades are so subtle, gleaming, that you know it took a gifted intellectual, to paint these delicate wistful haunted women. They always look like the flesh really is solid, and godlike, in fact there is this quality, an ambiguous mystery about him too, that is reflected in his work. He was my first favourite artist, many were to follow, but he intrigued me for being so multitalented and complete. I would have truly loved to have spent time with him and discovered what made him search, analyse and dissect, to the level he did, I can relate completely these activities.

I think that it is reassuring to be part of the food chain that can appreciate him, I mean if I were lower on the food chain would I crawl across his painting foraging for food, or would I rather be a human with some level of appreciation and looking for something else, something that is more interesting, or remarkable or visually incompressible.

I see so many women relegate their lives to the mundane, darkness on darkness, black on black in their wardrobe, completely without confidence to explore colour and it is a shame because if you are going to wear dark colours imagine having the genuine depth or understanding of colour as Leonardo Da Vinci, to then be able to put together those layers of contrasting colours that all appear dark but on closer inspection are so many other shades that they take your breath away with the subtlety....

Winter for me is like this, white, grey, silver, on whiter, greyer, and silvery pale ice blue ... then electric blue, then sapphire blue, then midnight blue... I love the fact that if you really look it isn't all white but subtle shades of white that probably to those who can see with their heart, whether blind, short-sighted or 20/20, that they see more than just white....


.... by xsapph ...

Adult Innocence

One person with the inside track on fairplay, and non-judgemental intelligence, is my kind and gentle friend Ian... He is one of these tall, silver fox's, with a soft edge that blurs him so he appears easygoing and relaxed - always. You can tell him anything, he may laugh, he may even look whimsy, and surprised, almost to the point of innocence because he never has a bad word to say about anyone. I have known him for over 11 years, and he has been consistently reliable, he is a Pisces, and always on the go, sometimes appearing inattentive as he has juggled his diary to include his friends who he holds dear. He falls into situations in his life with innocence, sometimes his friends appear to be controlling and he lets them be themselves, trip up, and pick themselves up, without allowing it to taint him or change him.

His willingness to quickly adapt, to listen to advice, to take it on board to mull it over and then to provide you reassurance that he has in fact heard you, not appeared to be listening or rather pretending to ... and he can listen for hours, in any environment that provides refreshment, because he is a person who loves light, meals, lots of variety in restaurants, or social changes, and is well travelled not only because of his job which requires him to, but also due to his interest in 'foreigners'.

Sapphire: 'Ian, where are you?'
Ian: 'Oh... I am in Instanbul/Venice/Outer Mongolia....'
Sapphire: 'Ian, have you stolen me some matchsticks, and a lighter, and bought me a personalised postcard?'
Ian: [Nervous stutter] 'Well, I bought you some of each'...
Sapphire: 'Ian, now you know I won't accept anything but stolen matchboxes, okay so how much did you pay?'
Ian: [Trying to covert to UK£.pence]... '£1.22!'
Me: 'TOO MUCH!'

Wherever he goes, he does something that is extraordinarily sweet, like a big brother, or a kindly uncle, he always sends me a postcard ... no matter where he is... OR he brings me back some personally chosen gift. An example, he bought a scarab, a stunning black stone beetle shaped (Egyptian form of Memo, or Telegram) with my name engraved on it ... It wasn't an expensive gift, that would then be considered over-generous, but it was very thoughtful. Another time, I implicitly made a list of possible gifts for my birthday, and he followed my instructions to the letter... In other words, he takes the trouble to actually consider your needs and then tries to fulfil the request. I thought the fact that he wrote it down was really very sweet. In fact he has never missed my birthday... or Christmas for that personal trouble for you on special occasions. Or most recently ROSE JAM...

When he receives a gift, it is always as if it was exactly what he wanted... even if it is the 5th pair of socks or 7th tie... he injects excitement into all that he does, he works for British Standards, and is without doubt their best diplomat and advocate for how to build healthy, harmonious relationships with others. Everyone that meets him warms to him and I have never heard a bad word against him, in fact words such as 'kind, thoughtful, sweet natured, gentle...' are hardly enough to capture his symbolising all that is wonderful about the kindly Englishman that he is. When he is too soft, tooo gentle, and tooooo sweet, I poke him in the ribs, and he lets me.

Now one day he was sitting in my garden, Robin arrived and the three of us sat out there laughing, enjoying wine that He had bought back from one of his many trips, Robin appeared cool, elegantly panther like watching bees and carefully (faking) appearing cool about them buzzing so close him... Ian looked like he always looks - rather like a 'deer in headlights' ... he always has this innocent surprised look on his face. I thought how different they were and yet how easily they could connect, chat graciously and be natural.

Shortly after Robin had to leave, my mom arrived she bustled in as she always does with the energy of excitement and chattering quickly and busily - because she was about to pop into my next door neighbours home who adore her and vice verse ... and she laughed at Ian and said....'I know all about you, you are a dear man, and then she tapped him on the arm.' She liked what she had heard, if you knew him I am certain you would think the same, it is so difficult to dislike him, he is without reserve the only man on this planet with no enemies... I really think that. He has no malice whatsoever within him, and I think that had he had a religious calling, (He is a kindly Christian man), well he would have made the perfect Father Confessor, because he doesn't have a single negative thing to say about anyone, he always makes kindly, gentle statements.

I know he won't mind my relating this - in this way, but he is the perfect buddy to take to a bar-b-que, or a salsa event or any other situation where you need a 'handbag', that can be self-reliant, generous, rather than clingy, and making you feel dragged down because you have to keep checking on them or else they play wallflower.

Now, I have never shared my prose with him because to be honest, he doesn't read poetry, but he has an enthusiasm for learning, and is fantastic at his field. We do not miss a month without a catch up. He comprehends immediately issues and speaks as fast as I do, having a mercurial brain... So he is a monthly connector ... someone who I may see or speak to monthly except where there is a crises. He is the person I most often text, with any new episodes in my life, and if you know me, you know I hate to text ... avoid it like the plague, and only text bulletins concerning scheduled meetings, delays in journeys, or notifications of my ETA (estimated time of arrival).... Very rarely, I may forward one of the lovely texts my brother from time to time has sent me which he himself has forwarded, because if you know my brother he is so gadget orientated, that he uses every form, medium, and tool to connect he has available.

I think Ian is one of those Angels of Mercy present - walking the planet for the rest of us who are beloved fallen angels.... I think that when he is operating at his best, confident and secure in himself he is at peace with just sitting in Venice or Portugal, or Vienna, with a glass of his favourite wine, browsing a menu, selecting his favourite flavours and soaking in the atmosphere.... At his worst, I think he runs on nervous energy, worries about hurting others, delays as a result, or falls right in feet first with the innocence of a good natured elk - you know at the mercy of the elements.


Cafe at Night, by Vincent Van Gogh, reminds me of the wonderful calls from Ian when he is sitting in some small cafe sipping black coffee, 2 sugars... chewing on a small biscuit.

He never over eats, but he loves to recount the menu items he has enjoyed, saying the meal description, quickly, confidently in an English accent, always makes me laugh... he knows his restaurants, better than anyone I have ever met... Now me - I have no interest in places, or food... per se. I bore easily, like change, variety and eclectic individuals... I never remember places, or meal menus, I usually table hop even at large functions, where I am worse... I will take my leanest fork and walk around picking off other's plates - curiousity, daring, audacity, social flirting, a little of each element but mainly testing the individual's sense of adventure, or stiffness... I remember of course every other detail, of my socialising...)

I dispense details with the urgency of a fire chief, shouting orders, with no mercy, Ian is the kind of person who reminds you to approach volatile situations with soft persuasion.

For me, who you are with, is more important than where you are at...

... I like best those calls from some cafe, abroad... Just sharing his immediacy, in thought or feeling about someone special to him, or something he has just experienced... Then I give him my best tactic for his particular high point of interest, and he laughs, nervously... Perhaps the fact that he is calling from another country makes it all the more special, I can hear the sounds surrounding him, the accents, almost smell the coffee...



I think our friendship is the Good Ship Lollipop, based on either him or I playing Uncle or Aunty to the other . ... In my case the bossy aunt, constantly wanting more for him than he ever conceives of himself, and always wishing to protect his sweet (naiveté) from those I think are prone to take advantage of his good nature... He has never appeared to mind, has never undermined me or shown any sense of defensiveness to my guarded nature concerning others he may describe to me through his rose coloured glasses, (he is genuinely the nicest person ever)!... I suppose something vulnerable in him brings out the protectiveness in all of us that have the sensitivity to be protective over what we recognise as 'innocence,' even in the adult.

The other day I saw Charles Dickens' 'The Pickwick Papers', of which I have a copy of the original Black n' White ... well Ian is the missing character from the Pickwick Club. When he is on a mission of goodwill, and good intention, he is entirely unreachable until he is grounded again.... this period of inaccessibility must be sweetly and patiently endured through until he has settled like a peaceful dove, and comes home to roost... (home being anyplace he has loved ones)! He has the same 'childlike' innocence and excitement about life, about people, about new places and new ideas....

Evergreen Atticus

Incorruptible Atticus,

Gregory Peck – academy winner, for his consummate role as incorruptible Atticus, in to Kill a Mocking bird, reminds me very much of a wonderful friend of mine, someone I find myself emailing (he is in the USA) at least daily if not 2 or 3 times a week.

I cannot conceive of a time when he wasn’t in my life, in fact I know that now it would be unbearable to imagine life without his comforting stability in my cherished link to him thanks to email, the odd call when we can, or the visit when his business allows. Being around him or emailing him is like feeling a quiet inner peace and harmony.

The way that I met him was quite unusual, I was very interested in risk management, and disaster recovery, just to see what kind of preparation our company had. My female manager was a fascinating lady, highly complex, and emotionally driven, someone who cared deeply about her people and a very hard worker, who made tremendous personal sacrifices for her job.

I asked about the planning structure in place, and she directed me to a powerpoint presentation that from the second I opened and read, I wanted to know the source, who created it, and who presented it, and wished I could have been there, that is exactly, how I felt. I was impressed by the content, the intelligent scope of the document, the depth to which the director in charge, had certainly driven his posts into well studied rock faces, to create what appeared to me a solid structure that was flexible and with the precision you often find in the performance improvement documents that efficient organisations such as the MOD may have in place.

Now I had to meet or find out the presenter’s details, I searched around and then emailed him, expressing my esteem for such a worthwhile document and making it clear that I wanted to be his friend, because I liked the mechanics of his mind. I have never before or since wanted to meet the actual presenter of a presentation, in the way that I wanted to meet him! I have at least 300 presentations in my own private collection, and none of them despite all the flashy graphics are as exciting to make you sit up and think, wow, how was this delivered!?

We eventually met, and I introduced him to my brother and there was an instant rapport. Something I should add, I cannot help but be repulsed by weakness. Now I do not mind those who feel weak, and admit it because that takes strength, but I can sense wesk characters, with bravado and it makes me shudder. When I met him, I felt an instant rapport, I knew that no matter how many fears he confronted in his own life, these would be faced squarely, logically and then evaluated, he couldn’t hide his inner strength, which was a sanctuary to those who required shelter from Life’s cruelty.

Mike M, is someone who I have found to be incorruptible. He is consistently courteous, capable of a high level of intellectual comprehension without requiring copious amounts of explanation, and when he gives his judgement, it is presented in a manner that you cannot take offence. Should he ever make a mistake in drafting a conclusion it is immediately addressed and corrected, he apologies with such gentle charm that you like him for who he is which is basically a downright decent all American guy! With the looks and demeaner of Robert Redford, and the same wholesome quiet charm, he is easy to like.

When he reads a piece of my private poetry saved for trusted friends, he is always very sincere, and if it has moved his compassionate soul he is immediate in sharing this. I like the happy banter, which is rare because he is so philosophical, what I respect so much is that he maintains this calm exterior and within he is still the same kindly person without bitterness.

He treats me as if I am his kid sister, and sometimes I feel as if the roles are reversed… because he will appear (if he was 5 years old) ...to show me his small bear that has a ripped ear, and he is unsure how to fix it, he is looking for some additional information, maybe some way to fix it, and then he shrugs his shoulders and leaves it with me, walking away not wishing to be a burden, or a nuisance or worry you. Meantime, he is in his quiet corner, looking over to see if you have managed to sew it up and it is still going to have that loveable floppiness that he wishes to see.

That is the only way to explain how he may want to delve into his own psyche, it is always to fix something that needs perfecting.

Now if you add up 3 years at approx, 3-4 mails per week, regularly drafted, without any lessoning of attention to the friendship, or continuity, then you have a minimum of 500 emails between us… However, it is never just one email, 3 times a week, it can be frenetic email activity covering almost eclectic subject matter, and with always a response that is measured, precise and covers the aspects in a rounded manner. When you first meet him you see a handsome tall, man with an air of quiet charm, and sparkling eyes that are quick to make you feel at ease, without thinking you are being judged.

When I first spoke to him, he reminded me instantly of Atticus, I realised then that this is the kind of Father he is with his children, because it is exactly the kind of adult he is. You feel when you first meet him that he has this ability to remain balanced, and fair, well he is a Libran; so one would believe him to be relaxed, beauty conscious and logical in his reasoning.

Every so often Mike M. will take off his ‘director’ hat and relax to allow his comedic side to shine through and what you receive is something quite extraordinary it is always delivered with a consistent role play style, which he maintains with such seriousness that were someone to read his charming happy mails, you would instantly think he was serious, so involved is he in the role play itself.


Albert Bierstadt the artist painted this picture, 'Bridal Veil Falls Yosemite California c.1871-73.

MikeM recently moved to California... he plays bass guitar, (in fact he played a guitar during his presentation to his company one day, and I have to say that when he told me about this, I was in awe... Who does that? WOW... Imagine, you are about to sit in on a presentation - it is going to be dull, you have been to tons of these... Then... Here is Mike, guitar... singing...

...I have this image of him taking his loved ones, with his guitar... In particular his special lady-love, and just sitting someplace like this, chuckling, sharing his happy thoughts, tossing a pebble and watching it fall... sparkling in the sunshine...


When I think of Atticus it is impossible not to think of Mike M. He stands by you without allowing you for one moment to feel that you have been too cruel, or too soft, in other words regardless of your desire to be whatever is within your range of emotions he is so balanced himself that he can handle it.

When he does feel deep emotions it is so out of place for him that it throws him out of sync. and he needs time to find his natural level again.

He is very close friends with my other lovely ally, G.

It makes sense they are like two cowboys with white hats on… you know that they are part of the magnificent 7, and they are similar in their aspirations which are always to be noble to their high ideals.

The most significant quality about him is this, he does not have the striking dark side that I have experienced with most people, he has shades of light, lighter and brighter!

He is constantly checking himself for inaccuracies, always self-deprecating without any self esteem issues but because he is genuinely humble, and has a deep humility in his sense of self.

What I find is so instructional about him is this, he can remain entirely impartial, without appearing to take sides, and yet you believe when you share your thoughts with him that he is entirely on your side and you are being treated fairly without reservation.

To know him is to adore him, to trust him is to be in a position of strength, and to rely on him is evergreen.

If you haven’t seen the film, see it!

To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)
The Academy Award winning screenplay by Harper Lee - who had written a semi-autobiographical account of her small-town Southern life (Monroeville, Alabama), starring Gregory Peck.


... This will be MikeM when he is 85 years old... probably a beach bum... turning his back on high profile Director roles... and eating mussles... beech combing... making motorbikes out of driftwood, I am going to send him a small wood-chiselling knife, to get him in the mood... and a pack of plasters, and TCP...

Tiger Fish Intelligence

So now to duel with Tiger Fish jewel launching a razor edged garrote assaulting her leap. Tiger Fish sparkles to spin away disappear, arching back to barbed mesh.


[Stanza from Tiger Fish Intelligence, 24 February 1999]

Indigo Maze

The Maze

The games continuation ensured
The victim is lured
Into a maze; iniquitous, in making
Indigo structure; breathtaking....

[Stanza from The Maze, 12th August 1988, Sapphire-x]

The other day, I discovered half a dozen of my sketches, only one has been scanned.
I did this sketch for my lovely Friend Stevey-BEEEE, an intellectually stimulating marketing manager with possibly the sharpest portfolio of practical and intellectual skill sets.

He is a Gemini with a difference he actually works hard at his craftsmanship, so is one of those rippling, trickling, inconspicuous petrol-blue-green stream-like characters, quietly winding down lanes. Sometimes appearing invisible to the eye, until the light catches his silkiness. Other times animated as he sparkles like a small dragonfly, and rivets your attention to a mercurial concept, or has grasped with immediacy the intensity you were projecting.

He represents the most perfectly formed Gemini I have ever met, (without the shallow, senseless spite or duplicity) someone whose mind is so keen, and sharp that he can outmanoeuvre any tactical move with the finesse of a magician, immaterial power (mind) over material power (matter).

I have known him over 11 years, during that period I have never once felt betrayed, or lacked comfort from his ability to respond to a call for clarification.

He showed me the power of applying 'spiritual tools,' to focus mental weaknesses, therefore transformation. There was a time when we wrote possibly thousands of words to each other weekly, his interjections were fast, (he is with MENSA, no surprise there) and therefore provided fantastic intellectual stimuli.

I learnt to touch type as a response to keep up with his parry. He reminds me of Hollywood’s early star Ronald Coleman, in fact he has the same comforting moustache, the gentle, and thoughtful, fine keen mind, is very much akin the aforesaid.

Stevey was someone one could whisper to, you know, those real deep quiet conversations that are full of intrigue, company political awareness, and giggling fits to punctuate the delicious silliness of it all! Apply perfect lipstick, sharpen claws, and then ask him what one could get away with?

Who were the key players? what was the strength of their alliances, and with whom? What were their areas of contention? What were their buzzwords, that would hook them? What were their perceived desires? or discreet ambitions, who were their challengers?...Where did power or final decision-making emanate? Where were the minefields? Who were the loose canons? Who could be relied upon to be 'tarred & feathered' by the others closing ranks? Who had the best sense of humour? ha ha ha

He would raise an eyebrow, and then grin, 'What do you wish to achieve?'

Then sheepishly and after a little prodding, by me, pleading my case for why I wanted this (it had to be honourable, it had to be worth the prize, the costs had to be evaluated).

He made me work for each request for a plan, he expected me to think things through, and most importantly 'why did I want it so much?!' ... He would go quiet. Look into space, and then tap me on the arm, 'I have it, and try this'...

I would smile ear to ear; I love a watertight plan!

He would supply me with the most effective (ethical) planned route to get my points across, the most diplomatic means by which to get my agenda presented, or the (most gently persuasive) approach on the key personalities (some of who were quite likely to be volatile, exciting, and power hungry) who ran the business.

I felt I were a character from the political satire, 'Yes Minister/Yes Prime Minister'...

I had a fantastic respect for all capable and competent players in a fun cat-mouse, game, where we could all have a giggle once I got my policy in effect. I didn’t always win, (although my 'win/cost' score improved with each plan) because the Directors were often one step ahead of me when it came to being manipulated by a young slip of a girl, but I certainly had fun trying!


I did suspect that Stevey was good-naturedly playing both sides, going to my charismatic leader, and suggesting he went along with this new key objective I had in mind, and to let it run its course, and enjoy the player's (his subordinates discomfort), and advising him which areas to allow me to win... Who knows... he is after all a Gemini ha ha ha

[Imagined dialogue:
SB (Stevey-BEE) says, 'Sapphire wants this... policy on such and such to be passed/approved'
CL (Charismatic Leader) replies,'What will it cost, me, who is her prey? How long will her scheme take to implement? Is it worth it, how do we benefit?'].
SB states, 'until she is bored, has it in writing, has stopped laughing...'
CL, 'Go ahead, warn everyone, no on second thoughts don't!'

One thing I never do is ask/seek/pray/yearn for guidance and then act foolhardy, and dismiss it, RESULT: then fail, of course, and try to cover my tracks because I was too stupid/naive'/lazy/arogant or incompetent to take the best advice/tactic/strategy on offer.

If I have ever agreed that the idea presented to me was the best I had heard or found, therefore, I had agreed with and therefore acknowledged, I would never undermine myself, self-sabotage or endanger my own plan by fumbling along as I was without it, if it failed so be it!

If you are in the game, any game, always aim to be a masterful strategist, better than a fool awaiting another cliff-side fall.

Those that do, I have found are rarely rewarded by a sustained desired result, what often happens is that they replay that same broken record to their ruin. Aside from losing credibility, and having to relearn their life lessons again and again... NOT FOR ME, no fear, once is enough!

Many a time, was I the cat that had the cream, or had feathers showing from my lips?

When I did, Steve was the one who wiped my mouth, or picked out the feathers from my teeth like a dentist, so that it wasn’t too obvious, patted me on the head, or laughed good-naturedly when my plans backfired, and now here I was, the failure, with a headache, toothache, or general ego-ache!

He would get me a coffee, share an old fashioned biscuit, (he always had a biscuit tin) and mop my brow with gentle reassurances.

This drawing, is the only one I have scanned, it was sketched during a company presentation, riddled with slide after slide of boring statistics, delivered by the Elder-men, Directors who relied on these to indicate business performance and productivity, as do all highly numerate individuals.

By the way, I have since left that company, which was my favourite and suffered worst boredom at the hands of those Directors who are often intellectually challenged, emotionally stymied, or have absolutely no idea whatsoever, how to carry through a presentation or company brief successfully. Where the statistical presentation should be banned because they show no indication of caring for the key most important resource, ‘intellectual power’ i.e. PEOPLE! Thus companies failing to improve performance quality… usually do so because they drove their flashy company cars on fumes: number-crunching, downward-cost-plunging strategies that lack resourcefulness.

However, in those happier times, working with Stevey, I yawned… then I doodled… now I used to doodle these all over the place, and leave them lying around at work, but mainly during meetings or presentations where I was in an audience, straight jacketed to attend. On this particular occasion Steve found mine and when I saw his interest, I said, ‘wait a jiffy’… and added his name into it.

I grinned and said, ‘Hey Friend, here, to remember me by!’

About an hour later he sent it to me scanned and showcased with lighting, ‘neat!’ There is someone who can deliver!

If there is one quality that will arrest my attention next to gentle, sweet kindness, it is brilliance, when that person is willing to share their tools, their skills and teach you what they know... what a gift!

When that person by the Grace of God was kissed by an angel, and therefore applies themselves with humility in the face of dire straits; to share with you diamond cut angles to any plan that are always ethical and sound then I am in awe. I am in awe of Stevey-Bee.

Isolation in the Universe

[Photo courtesy of Mike-M]

Isolation in the Universe?

A young woman comments to my blog, in comments, she is very talented (so she tells me and I must believe because I have not seen her beautifully described work yet, but she has been trained in many artistic systems and techniques, and works for a gallery.

I was moved by her fierce determination to succeed and make her ancesters proud, despite being an orphan. So I have written some thought regarding her comments.

Sometimes there are those who feel unhappy, (in the artist above's words: ugly, alone...) which I think can represent a lack a spiritual harmony within them.... 'spiritual harmony: whereby no attachment whatsoever to materalism',or we are (thus contrived) limited much as a person that is 'only able to believe in what can be touched, can be seen or has been experienced', nevertheless, search for an elusive prize.

Regardless of your depth, everyone has experienced some level of feeling isolated at some point in your life, and feeling as you have been abandoned, or even shunned by the Universe. Emptiness feels like a way of life, and exclusion from another person, or other's, whose lives we may wish to be a part of, appears to be a form of punishment, rejection or worse neglect.

Sometimes we want a whole lot more than the universe can provide. However this doesn’t mean you do not deserve it, need it or at least feel you do, or want it because some unresolved part of your psyche is longing for that fulfilment. Very often it is the chase itself that was the driver. To me the means (if ignoble)by which we apply ourselves never justify the end result.

Children without a parent, or parents can spend an eternity with an intense hunger to reconnect with that 'ideallised' parent. Children without siblings can also have the same kind of longing. Feeling abandoned is possibly one of the most wretched emotions felt.

Sometimes things are just as they are, a close friend, someone I call a quiet sentinel: Gl', whose gentle, commanding, sterling nature is reminescent of my Father; often provides me answers that encapsulate in a single shot my ceaseless query.

Most recently, he sent me a parable the gist of which was this, ‘sometimes you can only accept what is, and that is all’.

I think that when Gi’ said that to me about an unresolved need that I had, it made me aware that for him, his Buddhist spirituality was the secret to discovering the true meaning of Life.

Spiritual Enlightenment requires us to forgo materialism and that is in a sense contrary to everything we are bombarded with on TV for example.

There is an essay about Gi, called 'Friendly Persuasion'... in this website.

My mother sometimes reminds me that our emotional dependence on relationships is another desire that distracts from our true path, which in her view is to serve God with humility.

Like I think with many of Jesus’s teachings,too, Buddhism appears to be the gift of a genius.

One foolish self-professed/possessed 'surface-beauty' sometime ago had the audacity to say to me arrogantly that, 'those who cannot get past their 'abandonment issues' were in her opinion weak, and 'needed to get over themselves'. Now the fact that she herself had sought the mending of a broken link with her own relatives slipped her by...

Whatever your position in the Universe you have if you read Jesus's message, 'equal merit in the eyes of the Lord'.

Any philosophy so complete that it imbues those who have the capacity to love unconditionally, fearlessly and without concerns about reaching out to others even at their most vulnerable, must be a great gift to those who follow it.

It is easy to have no belief, but one thing I have discovered is that those who are spiritual have this one quality that was consistent, a belief in a higher authority, therefore a concern for moral rectitude or some level of deeply established personal rules that they follow. I often refer to it as the Universe, that such a philosophy should be clung to, for at best it may inspire you to find that very thing you seek within yourself.

Perhaps it is the way that works for me, but I am deeply inspired by those world leaders such as Mahatma Ghandi-ji, and Martin Luther King… whilst also being in awe of such strategic genius, as inherent in Nelson, Napolean and Alexander the Great… then you look at the great philosophers, they appeared to have this fact in common, a deep unshakeable belief in God, in the Universe and to have at the very internalised core, a belief in their ability to achieve their objectives by the ‘will of God’.

I know it isn’t easy to feel complete without some sense of historical identity, some roots, or feeling that you belonged to others that loved and love you still, perhaps this is why you were given so much more than most people I have ever met.

We all feel abandoned, misunderstood in some way or another, we each have felt alone or without direction, or lacking in want; but the question is how one addresses these feelings of shortcoming.

Once I can vocalise the challenge, I have constructively focussed on what I know I can direct, change, and improve which was myself, I have really considered the areas that I felt were misdirected energy and made demands on myself to improve unconditionally.

It has always been a wonderful feeling (I know this is ego) to have been able to share my self-development or my new found internal dialogue which always aspired towards discovery… or better still towards creativity.

When I sit with G’ his beautiful face (my mother calls him that, which embarrasses him but it is quite true), is suffused with something I cannot put my finger on but it is certainly a kind of Godliness, when he speaks of his beliefs, he has a different glow about him, it is unhurried and well he is a Scorpio, so he is reserved and I know he would be too shy to have me banter like this about him, but something extraordinary happens.

Firstly, whatever material cares one has feel as if they are like an aspirin dissolving away, you know the aspirin is in the water but the water itself is now a blurred transparency – not quite as clear as it was.

He expresses himself so beautifully to me sometimes that I long to hear his views on whatever it is that has me in its hold. He speaks so softly of his love of family, and furthermore that his spiritual identity requires that he should leave the world a better place for his activities should be geared towards those things that he can change, and what he cannot change for the better he has to with acceptance leave to it’s own spiritual karmic path.

I want to tell you that I wish you could join us when we meet this is how it goes… Now you see I treat him as family, I feel towards him as family, and he is therefore as special as my family.

I have no further expectations than those I have for my own family, and what he gives me is as much as he can within his power.

You do the best you can for others, and you hope that they have the same moral decency to do the same if not to you then to someone else in need.

I am certain that the Universe will place along your path those whose needs you will fulfil with some level of restraint necessary for all healthy relationships and also with the same sense of purpose that you would wish were it your own sweet loved one.

Stay true to yourself and see what the Universe has in store for you, but do not be afraid to wish and dream for more, such as or to have a mother or father or brother or sister…

Whatever it is you are looking for is possible, what is impossible is to keep it.

My grandmother had a friend who needed help, with her son, whom she raised as her own… My mother has on 3 separate occasions ‘mothered’ friends of my brother and I…. Not for a few months but we are talking years!

Now 2 were young men, grateful and still when they can maintain some contact with her and show their respect, gratitude and love.

The other person is a wretched creature a woman incapable of showing real love to anything beyond her own neediness and therefore a parasitic wretch: pitiable and beyond reach. She fosters chaos wherever she goes and it is a matter of time when she is discovered… When she leaves the ‘host’ it is without remorse, because mental illness distorts her perception. Forgiving her provides no reassurance of her comprehending her own ruin, therefore improving her situation.

People are not always perfect – none of us are, and whilst some fearfully walk the line of fire, whilst betraying other’s and those that rely on them. Never disclosing their difficulties because to do so implies they have failed in some way, and false pride wounds their souls... Others are frightened too but work through it with courage, and can be relied on – no matter how difficult their own lives to help or be there in times of need, consistently: neither turning away a friend or foe.

I truthfully consider myself aspiring to be the latter.

The co-dependant female's own family created this weak character because they gave her little confidence or self-assurance and it was a matter of time before the cracks appeared in her.

One of the men, Rupert that Mother took care of for a few years is a captain (ships) and he has often sent her a scarf or some other gift wrapped in a paper bag, with a stamp stuck to it, and her address entitled to MOM… at the time of posting he had no pen, no envelope and no wrapping paper. How she received it was extraordinary considering the fact that it was in a scrap of its original brown envelope.

Does she love this young man? But of course, does he love her, YES! How did he find her? Through his love of my brother and vice verse. Is it love or pity?




Painting by Richard Earl Thompson


Well it is an amalgam of many shades of emotions some are as stunning as a sinking sunset, others as tortured as an inflexible tree cracking in the storm.

Families are not perfect, nor are friends, but we each have within us the power to transform our relationships into something healthy that continues to flourish, grow, be sustained by our involvement at a personal level.

Sometimes, there are those who chose to exploit the opportunity to be destructive, to show stealth in their mistreatment of those they once professed to love, or care for by engaging in their lives uninvited and behind the scenes such that they may attempt to seduce them or entice them into deceit… corrupt or abuse their friends trust.

It is our choice… families, friends and sometimes those you trust the most may in fact be the worst connections in your life, but by the grace of God you find a way to always stand steadfast and sure.

One thing I do love about the parables that I heard in School Assembly were the tales of Jesus, being alone, and questioning his validity and therefore his very being… I think each of us has that burning question and when you cannot find an answer, sometimes acceptance is the best way forward.

My friend G’ treats me as if I am a sister, this is how he addresses me and his intensity sometimes and at other times his fragile communications with me are an extension of this.

What I am trying to say to you is that family is all around you, it may not be the face of your heritage, and it may show you it’s strength, support, love and unhurried patience in the face of strangers, but be open to let such 'family' address your needs as they are recognised by those with the wisdom around you to do so.

Do it safely, always be cautious it is so easy to be prey to those with hidden motives appearing to have your best interests at heart.

Always meet potential friends and surrogate family with healthy boundaries around yourself, and try not to fall into the weak pattern of collapsing those boundaries

(I have known women who could not be strong enough not to sleep with their male friends, or attempt to seduce them… Now clearly this is a dangerous situation and shows self esteem issues).

Living Life itself with a deep commitment to your highest (spiritual) intentions should be a labor of love, this should always be carefully applied but never towards people or persons with dubious morality!

As Ted Todd had said to me so many years before:

"I am going to check into your site with great interest, because we are all waiting for your creative and artistic involvement in the World, and know that you are not going to fail us, whatever you do… even if it is work that you choose to keep private and sacred to you alone, I always feel that the Universe (or God) is a witness to it, and no better audience.

Should you feel the need, consider me an extension of your earthly family."

Xsapphire-x

Fragile Humanity

The glistening veneer that is bees waxed honeyed veneer on rosewood veneer.
How deep to scratch to cut so deep.

Why so easily cut are you.

Perhaps the depth that you so choose to display is just skin deep.
Even then delicate that to cut beyond is to tear a butterfly leaf.

[Stanza from Cut Glass, 1st June 1997 Sapphire-x]

The power of a smile

John William Waterhouse painting: of 'La Belle Dame Sand Merci'.


He replayed each moment that she had been near.
Her smile had assured him of her interest,
In fact it buckled his mental wheels, the cogs ceasing
...And he felt himself rocketing out of control.

[Stanza from Sanguine Imaginings, 01-06-1993, Sapphire-x]

.. I have struggled from my very meagre picture collection to try to make this site less text-based, if you really want to see a smile see Mona Lisa: http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/vinci/

A little less Truth

A Fable [in the style of Ambrose Bierce]:

The Daily Life Perspective was sunken, in his deep butt & arm worn leather chair, by the dusty hydrangea. Basking in the balmy sunlight that helped him warm his damp Harris Tweed, suited bones at the French windows. Nearby his wet umbrella lay equally slumped steaming by the fireplace, that needed stoking.

Widespread Rumour Deplorer arrived breathless, at the Mens’ club, rather confused because the news he had just heard on his grapevine (namely, his rather sweet maiden Aunt: ‘Dainty kindly Ingénue’) was clearly going to spread acrimoniously and do his marriage severe harm in the most key locality of his servitude, that of his in-laws.

This was particularly a sensitive time as he intended to run for office, and possibly secure another term in the best political seat in the House, the one that enabled him to spend long periods in the Country doing nothing more than checking hops, and grain quantities.

Unfortunately, his Father-in-law was infamous Sherry Swilling Vociferous: a Baptist Minister in the Nether Regions, a pulpit pounder quite fearful prior to any ceremonious sermon.

The Circumlocutory Veiled Raconteur, who had just dropped this bombshell in the locality of the aforesaid in-laws, with the stealth of a traffic warden; arrived furtively at that precise moment.

He also appeared breathless and obliquely animated, for he too was harbouring his own political ambitions. Now he expected to warm his own grey pinstriped seat in front of the slow coal burning fireplace; rubbing his hands, he felt the peppermint he sucked was the best...

... when he espied the two very different individuals, who were also firm friends; sharing a cigar, and whiskey discussing this rather loudly for the time of day.

Pretending to appear surprised by the news of this bad press, the Circumlocutory Veiled Raconteur, asked what evidence was available to support such recriminations and what was the risk of discovery, and more important what the spoils of war (for him) were currently at stake.

Well, the Daily Life Perspective immediately responded that as long as nothing was admitted to, life would continue on. Afterall, without proof, any rumour certainly could not be sustained, and would fizzle out much as a spent firecracker, if dampened by indifference on the part of the Widespread Rumour Deplorer, when he was confronted by it.

Not as per the expectations of the highly imaginative Circumlocutory Veiled Raconteur for whom the exact opposite effect was desired and therefore had been intended.

His slowly sucked peppermint was now rather lemony.
Such that he wished indeed that the Widespread Rumour Deplorer, should appear as guilty as he clearly was, but in reality not to the degree as had been insinuated.

Well, each put in his penny-farthing worth… when suddenly, from the French Windows arrived, looking particular dashing for such a gloomy day, Cool As A Cucumber. His cravat appeared quite sleek, scented, glistening with the polish of sustained self-assurance and remarkable poise in the face of chaos…

He turned, and glimmering much with the aura of the charismatic, helped by the sleek moustache, that hours of wax had bowed; supplied the perfect alibi.

It was declared softly to be this:

‘To prevent your in-laws thus your dear wife (Relentlessly Patient Interrogator) from engaging you in a clearly undisputed argument, all you need do is to launch a strange, improbable, and inexplicable act. One that is so absurd, and implausible that you are either completely out of your mind or they are’.

Thus, like the breath of life cools, in the wake of Winter's hibernation, so Circumlocutory Veiled Raconteur appeared to be grey-er than the stripes in his gaberdine suit, despite his heated seat. Clearly he was intensely moved, although he was frozen to his core.

Thus, it was that from that moment forth the Widespread Rumour Deplorer summoned his resolve to contentiously exploit each commonplace incident to such a degree that the Daily Life Perspective was regularly found explaining the same incident in its bulletin form. This turned out to be every time that he happened to bump into the in-laws which was quite often as he was less than three houses from their town home, and only five doors from his club. This of course precluded a cab, unless he ordered one to drive around the block in the opposite direction to get to his afternoon slumber by the Hydrangea.

...Much to the chagrin and appalling disenchantment of the Circumlocutory Veiled Raconteur, who although he was in on the ingenious ruling (how could he not be) to deploy this disingenuous tactic on the unsuspecting innocent in-laws... now he was completely powerless (trapped rat) to counter any of it, thus he learnt that 'anything MORE than the TRUTH' can backfire... and eventually was known to have developed a new nom-de-plume or hat, that of Unspeakable Restrained Gas.


Hot off the press from the pen of Sapphire - x
[07 May 05]

http://photos1.blogger.com/img/145/5491/200/books.jpg

A Bedtime Story

There was once as there are always in nursery rhymes a beautiful girl her name was Thesphera, naturally she had a dog -all the best stories have a dog! Sometimes she had a cat, or sometimes the cat had her. It depended on whether the cat got fed or not.

She didn't really have many Friends you see, so the dog and the cat were really important to her. (Their names? oh well, let me see now, what was their names? Well that really is a co-incidence, those were exactly their names, how did you guess, gosh you are smart!)

Ah, about this point I should tell you what she looked like, that is always important, otherwise how are you to know who she is, if you get to see her?

Well she had this unusual face, firstly it just wasn't the same from any angle, no I mean that ! No matter which way you looked at her face she always looked very different. Of course no -one ever said anything because by now everyone was just used to her face. You know just as it was.

Now I guess that you want to know how she really looked. Well let me see, if you happened to be lying in the sand with the sand slowly disappearing through your fingers back into more sand... And with the sun behind her , she was standing in front of you, with the sunlight looking like it was cooking her, then her skin just lost it's own colour, (what colour?- you know normal skin colour.) Well then she just glowed, like a piece of coal.

What? oh her face, oh yes, I sort of forget.

Well then from underneath, looking up her nose, she looked just like you. No really I mean that. If I was standing on a step ladder a few rungs below you, while you painted the door frame lilac, and the door itself aqua (what colour is that?- oh, it is a kind of icecream colour- made of some African lagoon- what is a lagoon?

No it isn't a kind of fruit, it is an interesting name for a pretty large, exotic, pond.

Exotic?

...well that is like a knickerbocker glory, or a beautiful copper coloured girl wearing a knickerbocker glory style of dress.)- I would think my goodness it is the beautiful Thesphera.

On the other hand if she stood next to you side by side whilst you both watched grey ponies trot with silk ribbons plaited through their mane, (what colour ribbons? -Oh, lilac, and aqua of course) well depending which side she was on, well she would resemble either that girl we saw on the bus in the cherry coloured hat, you remember she kept humming, and humming until everyone but us had left the bus.

If you are on her right then Thesphera looked like the little boy with the pine cones, the one who kept saying they were hedgehogs eggs.

July 1995
Sapphire-x

Louvre catacomb where art inspires prose

... Such was the space that rent the very fabric of the soul in the dense coldness (in this Louvre catacomb).

Knowing even before the granite divisions were forged, that thistle, leek, and clover would soon enough germinate with the rose... to cover the walls.

Though the walls around would obscure survey in the future, for now there were unthreaded passages still accessible.

In time to the sound my heartbeat that was beating in consonance to my footsteps, there would be no echo reverberating in perfect timbre....

Appreciating craftsmanship, creativity, artistry, poetry...

This piece is dedicated to one of my closest and earliest Best Friends, in particular reference to this creative site that I am building... Since it was his first handholding my early scribbling and scripts that led to my portfolio of prose and hyper speedwriting.

I must have been about 16 and through my Mother’s appreciation of my interest in antiques and in particular cameras, she and my precious kid-sister (who has the exact persona of Phoebe from ‘Friends’; thus an exquisite butterfly-child) went to an antique fare. There they met a dealer who, knew an interesting man, it was suggested they went to a local car-boot sale, because this man wasn’t your normal dealer. His reputation rang gallops ahead of him, and my mother was curious, she systematically walked from stall to stall asking about him.

They were looking for a miniature working antique camera.

They came across a man who I came to know as Ted Todd, a handsome Taurian with deep blue eyes, square jawed, with a slow lingering smile that started crooked, and then gently blended into his eyes. He was in his forties.

He had been a pilot couriering parcels across Europe, and photographing his three favourite subjects, gnarled tree barks, sea gulls in flight, and bulls in the Spanish blood sport: bull rings. Then he had an accident, during turbulent weather, in the days when champagne hampers from Harrods, placed in the lifted up boot lid, of his Morgan, sports car, a lady with a Lady Penelope voice, would have been part of his up beat glamorous lifestyle. But it was the injury, which ended his glory days, and left him with a rebuilt leg, killing his insurance, so he was unable to continue piloting planes.

Yet he was multi-talented, and rather than narrowing his expertise, and living life on a superficial level, this man had developed other skills by applying himself.

[I must interject here and say that this is something that my mother and brother in particular also do, they are like me, consistently active, frenetic, in pursuing knowledge in their focussed interests. So my mother has approx. 16 certificates covering Reiki, Karuna Healing, Aromatherapy, Reflexology, Hopi Candles, the list is endless... My brother loves gadgets, he has a natural business acumen, able to turn any opportunity to his advantage with a good natured appeal, that wins because of his erudite knowledge of his craft (he is a deejay), who can always take up photography because his eye to detail, and angles is second to none.]

For Ted, through his incredible camera work, and creative impulse he was able to work for the Windsor Express, I believe it was called 'Windsor & Eton Express' back then, near the Castle.

His favourite classical music was that of Elgar, particularly the cello pieces, and, it is because of him primarily that I built my vast collection of classical c.ds. I wanted everything I heard. His knowledge of theatre, of music of course and I guess anything that was antique was simply remarkable, and if there is one thing that I can always be impressed by it is knowledge, and capability or proficiency.

He left the flashy sports car at home, and always prided himself for his Columbo like vehicles, always a drab little manual car, always with a leak, never locked, and this was part of his need to be as humble as he was – understated. He did this purely for effect, it amused him that he was teased by his peers, yet he had a beautiful Rolex, and it was only on close inspection that you realised how graceful, and elegant he actually was under this contrived exterior. He was the spitting image of the outstanding British Actor Jack Hawkins; in fact, whose gravely whiskey voice was almost the same identical pitch as Ted.

This is where I learnt the art of how seductive appearances can actually be, how one is treated almost with contempt if the shoes appear shabby, and I discovered that disguising one’s potential was another rock where one learnt all about mystery, and the power inherent within it. My Father was always impeccable, polished and Italian in his looks, he was often mistaken for Dirk Bogarde and Montgomery Clift… similar to my Father they had the same brooding looks and internal blue spark.

Ted was altogether a different Father figure for me, he appeared more at ease with the world, he wasn’t apart, like an eagle the way my Pa was, he instead was like your idea of a Labrador, as in Columbo’s case he ambles in like his bloodhound, well Ted could quite easily be the old Faithful… there was nothing magnetic about him, he appeared affable, good natured and always that crooked smile.





I met him whilst he was working at the newspaper as a photographer.

Well, they bought a camera from him, a German Rollei-B, which by the way still takes stunning, pictures, and he suggested that he should meet me to show me the workings of this beautifully crafted camera. He was in our humble lounge, and to my dismay, my mother was lively, animated and speaking about my writing prose. As I came down the stairs I hurried when I could hear that she was now showing him my handwriting style which by this time was already revealing a great deal about my developing personality.

I heard her telling him the fact that I could speed-read anything, and already had an unquestionable thirst for knowledge. She was complaining in that super fast slightly high pitched musical voice of hers that she was tired of telling me to go off and get some thing or another and find that I was buried in a book, and that I would dreamily look up at her flutter my eyelashes as if I had been awoken from some dream and then ask what she needed, only to find that it had been hours ago and I had lost my way.

Now my mother is quite deliciously funny in this way because she makes you squirm when she does that, and the male friends of my brother and I in particular adore her because she fusses exactly like Margaret Rutherford in the early Miss. Marples… quite eccentric in her brilliance. Now she adored Ted, well we all did, my father would have a cup of tea with him and they would have these quiet conversations where there were a lot of intuitive smiles between them.

However, this was the first time I was meeting him and I was rolling my eyes with the usual pout of a teenager feeling self-conscious.

I began to protest, I sauntered in with a 'devil may care' teenage angst, with eyebrow raised I thought 'here we go, come on Mom, give me a break...' I like sincere compliments, and can hand them out myself, but I cannot abide profuse flattery, and at that particular instance, I was pawing the ground, and giving my Mother the look of a trapped leopard caged and in discomfort.

Ted remarked many times over the years that he never forgot our first meeting, because clearly I was headstrong, and ready to swing a punch, and he had been expecting this passive Asian child.

'Now then, young girl, (I was coming up to my 17/18th birthday) lets have none of that pouting, your Mother is clearly proud to show off your work so let's see it and see if she is right...'

I shrugged, dragged my carcass to my room, collected up my hundreds of scraps of paper, and handed them to him.

From that moment our friendship cemented: Teacher, Pupil.

From the instant that we met we had intuitive understanding, and so began an extended Father/Daughter platonic relationship that lasted the rest of my life.

I make special mention to him because he has never failed to call me or be prepared to read, listen, absorb, my work, and then comment so intently with such precision and an erudite memory that even I have been astounded at his capacity to remember my writing.

To give you an example, of a typical day out, he would call the house speak to the family, ask if I was free to come out for the day and we would spend an entire afternoon looking at antiques.

He did not try to buy me, instead sometimes he would slip a small silver lipstick case from the 1920s, that was covered in mother of pearl, into my palm, or a silk hand painted evening purse; still with the ticket stubs from some play that the original owner in her satin rain-drenched gown had attended…possibly in some London theatre from bygone days…. That was now a nightclub.

Ted's favourite part of any lady was her ankles, he never forgot his mother, and grandmother coming downstairs, when he was a little boy, with beautiful shoes, they were daughters of the Dancing 'roaring twenties'... when ankles were prettily dressed and shoes were dainty.





Well he would always start by asking what I had written recently. He is the only person in my life (next to my mother) who would ask me this question, and be allowed to… because I consider it private and have to trust before I am willing to extend myself and share it, I believe this is natural amongst any writer that is avoiding fame.

Then he would park somewhere beautiful, usually by a lake, and stop to pick up coffee from a van, and say ‘I am ready, read to me’. This was the setting he wished to recall the piece in, because he always said, ‘This will do…’ then we would sip coffee from polystyrene cups; these were new at that particular time…

With each person I meet in life, there is some small aspect I share, but with Ted, I could share any thought, therefore express every thought, and this reached into my work, with Ted, I was willing to run the risk of showing a piece that was weak, or unsound… I showed Ted absolutely everything I wrote, snatches of thoughts, inspirations that I wanted to work on, and for about 90% of the time we spent together the subject on the table was my work, or his photographs.

I never had to expand details on my life experiences because he was one of the few people as I was growing up that could understand within a sentence or two my exact meaning, and interpretation. It required so little clarification and received an immediate response, delivered with the same precise craftsmanship that all his photographs had, a creative impulse of spontaneity with skilful blending of intelligent comprehension.

Now I analyse responses much the way anyone with a military style mind does, in other words with my radar on what I am not being told, what the individual appears to be protecting and most of all what they want from me during the dialogue, is it approval, is it to be liked, is it advice, or just that they need to hear themselves. Part of this analytical code is running below my cognitive surface and I listen intently, although because I am able to grasp ideas and thoughts at a hyper speed level, it is often assumed I missed some detail.

If you were ever to look at the work I presented unless it had numerical data within it, I do not make mistakes in comprehension of what is required of me. So it was with Ted, when he requested sometimes that I developed an idea because he realised that I was capable of doing so, it was I found easy – almost child’s play to take a visual scene in my mind and put it down on paper, almost as if someone was inside my brain and had grasped its tail and now was firmly capturing it wriggling and trying to escape but it was caught all the same.

I felt the same… I learnt from Ted, how to pitch my voice at the best timbre for effect when I wanted to command attention during a presentation, or when I had to present my prose in a certain way that left what he called an indelible impression, for without his advice perhaps when I read aloud it would have appeared flat as with most young people of my age, but I was comfortable and it held me in good stead when I came to teach during various positions at work where it was important to pitch your voice and regulate your delivery to maintain interest in the subject which may have been dull.

I would be so eager for that moment when he wanted to see my efforts and my work, it presented me with the single most important audience in my life, I suppose an extended father-figure of approval and strength of complete belief in my capability to improve on whatever was presented – were I to choose to. One thing he never did, not once was suggest I change a line, or amend a sentiment. He might have corrected a grammatical error but never to lose the quality of the meaning I had intended.

When I wrote some of my wicked, cruel pieces articulating the dark and light of life’s challenges he would laugh heartily! If there is something I love it is the sound of laughter! Particularly when it is as a result of intelligent creativity, including comic genius… I aspired to Oscar Wilde, and Noel Coward when it came to humour.

Art Quote

"If technique is of no interest to a writer, I doubt that the writer is an artist."

Marianne Moore

He would listen intently as I read it out and then he would make me pause (he didn’t always have his glasses with him) and make me repeat a line or two, so he could memorise it. Now imagine if you will this. He looks intently ahead, lifting his square jaw so that his head tilted, sometimes so that the blue sky was almost inside his head and shining back at me through his eyes, and sometimes he would look down when the line appeared to touch something within his soul. Then he would be silent for a few minutes and say something encouraging, and always perspicuous. If he nodded to himself as I read it was like being conducted, quite encouraging. If he went silent for too long, it meant he was really drawing on his past experiences and wished to share something personally felt.

He nearly always wore greens and checked shirts, now my father wore checks a lot as well when he was being casual and this gave me a great feeling about Ted, because there was a kind of Badger from ‘the Wind in the Willows’, sense of strength about him.

Now note this, we were platonic friends… he was a mentor and I, his student, and also friend. I discovered through his kindness, patience and above all his commentary on my work, and interest in encouraging my hard work – something which he instilled as vital to any artist, that it gave me discipline and also the ability to work hard on any document that I have to apply myself to.

Each meeting with him was punctuated by a moment when he stopped near some pretty wild flowers or interesting watering hole, and it was then I knew, this was my moment to present my work, my latest creation and here was someone who genuinely expressed a desire in hearing or reading my work. Good, bad, indifferent or more… those early pieces of feedback resonate such that I can tell you exactly what he said, when and where about each piece that he considered.

Another thing he never failed to give me a small gift, this was also a measure of his magnanimous nature, nothing effusive, just usually something subtle, something of value in the sense of historically based, as if it had been snatched out of history for me alone and perhaps had waited for me… perhaps a small trinket box, or a brooch worth no more than pence… or more often than not a handful of his pictures… but to me I saw what he saw, that it was a measure of his pleasure at my anticipation of what was a special moment shared between friends.

Perhaps it is that he was so special to me, but beyond his approval for when you are young you do need some level of approval to feel appreciated, it occurred to me more than once that once I had experienced the objective, impartial and completely honourable response from someone such as he, that I could never again be fooled by flattery, by tomfoolery or by criticism.

It provided me with self-assurance and consistency in self-value and self-esteem that I can feel keeps me grounded, as far as my work is concerned, because I have never required either approval for it since nor needed acceptance or felt it necessary to share it other than perhaps as an interesting exercise.

He showed me once a large tea chest in his car that was being relocated as he was moving homes, within which were thousands upon thousands of black and white pictures of sea gulls…

Now each was different and from every beached location in the world that he had ever been to. He had chests of black and white photos, of tree barks and twisted broken trunks as well… this was his practice ground, where he cut his teeth this is where he allowed his craftsmanship to be developed, Bjorn Borg hitting ball after ball… with focus, deliberation, and with complete self-sacrifice. For all the places he could have been this was where he had been, taking picture after picture… I learnt early lessons, which I continue to develop, and express myself through.

Something I often remember since was this, he could pick a photo from any tea chest take a minute to look at it, holding his glasses sometimes a little away from his face, as they were straight off the Boots shelf, rather than prescriptive… and then searching the back for the date and location of the developers, he could tell me the place, the time of season and other more personal data about which of his many girlfriends he was seeing… for of course he had a partner or women he dated, and mentioned with complete discretion as any father might with a daughter.

What I learnt was that these chests of photos, were playtime, sometimes a chore, but it was cutting ones teeth in pursuit of perfection, that he required of me commitment to do one thing, as he said ‘to thine self be true’.

I vowed then that I would be dedicated to the same level of hard work, that no matter how bright, or capable I was, no matter how natural my talent at art or literature or any other skill was, that hard work was absolutely necessary and without it I would feel a hollow victory in anything I achieved.

That perfection was effortless only after precision achieved following a great many mistakes and failures, that without these, if complacent, even with talent present, only a shallow, weak personality can be formed.

He could attend some event with a hundred other photographers, they would have their multi-functional cameras, their lights popping, their add-ons and he would fumble in (like Columbo) old camera, snap at best half a dozen, take them back to the office hand them in and find 50% of his were in the paper the next day…

He may have worked ‘officially’ for only a couple of hours a week, but behind the scenes here was this wonderful talented creative man taking picture after picture of animate (trees), slightly more animated (Bulls), highly animated (gulls).. Representing the variable speeds and changeable aperture of life’s images… to the point that he could capture any subject from any angle at any time of day whatever the weather conditions – effortlessly.

From time to time I would visit the newspaper with him especially at the end when the paper was winding down, and it was fun sitting around cross legged on the desks in slacks, tee shirt smelling ink, whilst he handed a few pictures casually to the editor, shrugged as he was given plaudits and then we would wonder off to see how his real passion the pictures that he was working or some old camera he had sent into a shop to be cleaned, turned out.

What drew me to Ted? Now I reflect and I suppose he reminds me of my brother and mother, who have the same self-discipline when it comes to his interests… the same hard work, the same precise quality. Perhaps that is why he and I were and remain such lifetime Friends… because his energy reflects those of people I am already familiar with, and love, and qualities that I find most attractive, those of practical application, and hard graft.

Thus to clarify, I cannot abide laziness, neglect of one’s own talent or sloth-like complacency. Ted has long since retired, and is inflicted with partial blindness, with the same perfectly pitched whiskey voice, it will always be special to me to hear his voice, at any time of the day, and hear his response to my written prose.

For each failure, followed by analysis, and improvement, I continue to keep failing, keep trying, to keep failing. However, spiritual creative persistence can often lead to perfection, or even beyond it, at the very least it can lead to your best endeavour. I am determined above all else to be consistent as always to aspire to overcome failures, whilst avoiding fault duplication. Making a mistake once is fine, possibly accidental, to repeat ones' mistakes is foolhardy, to continue to replay the same lack of creative effort and therefore waste one's own talent is the path of the wastrel.

To me overcoming shortcomings and rising above them is paramount to achieving high standards in my performance as discussed so many times sitting on a gnarled log, whilst Ted took pictures of bark and wood, and I read each piece, and explained how I would capture my thoughts on paper...

It was there that I learnt that if you ever question the existence of God, it is when we are transformed into being in essence that of nothingness which is when we are finally acting effortlessly successful... and achieving success effortlessly.

Shiva

...As for religious/spiritual beliefs: I think that warmongers historically misunderstood biblical content, prophets guidance, etc...

Such insightful, inspirational teachings have failed to be followed by those who instead through greed, chose to superimpose over spiritual reality a manic materialistic, altered-event, thinking pattern. I abhor those that justify a continued pattern of plundering destruction, in the sole raison d'être, which is towards acquisition.

I consider atheists spiritually bankcrupt, 'the deaf, dumb and blind': those without soul, therefore, easy prey for their enemies.

I pity Agnostics, as those without direction, spiritually lacking, and lost.

Our Lord Shiva rules, Jesus WAS the beloved true son of God, his gift was the ultimate unconditional sacrifice, his life was consistently true to his word. I am remain in awe of, and thus humbled by Buddha. Mohammad has inspirational & interesting teachings, some of which are open to scrutiny.


A fantastic site for reading is Jim's Site...'bookreviews4seniors' where he carries out book reviews. William Blake is one of my favourite writers. Jim understood this unspoken need. His article on Hinduism is quite beautifully crafted.

Birds of Prey

... Intense flowery scent, guide the senses to reveal Parma violets
...Sunk into half enclosed apricot buds.
The quarry, he’s acquiescent, pitiable, adoringly released.
Pastel clusters of lemon and pink roses grow wild strangling oak saplings.
My arm beckons, receives, the falcon lands, hooks, screeches.
Mottled leaves tumble with the wind, spinning to the ground...

Sapphire-x [stanza from Blade:16th August 1982]

......And to her eyes a glimmering dew.
By sunlight sparkle, refreshed anew.

His gold hair wound around her finger
His silver dreams surround the singer.

Sapphire-x [stanza from Hawksprey:12th June 1987]

Icicle Eyes, Sunbeam Smile

[Photo courtesy of MikeM]

By such sweet things to sweeter be.
But where such sweetness is rare and only bitter slights to bear?
Then how to find the painful stowaway, inside the hearts bow?
Whilst sails of sand white canvas seemed to wave overhead,
Your Captain’s eye certain towards a fatal rock.
Could I have been with you so long ago?
A wreck adrift, until we lay tethered by names in the cemetery
A requiem for Love battling against the tide.

... by xsapph
[Stanza from Icicle Eyes, Sunbeam Smile 27th April 2001]

Detach from loves captivity

What urged as an appeal for assurance,
Settled as an inquest of life long surrender?
Detaching from love's captivity....

Stanza from my Prose 'Aspiration' ... by xsapph

Alliances

I love the light and dark of people with true character. I don't mean the skin colour, or anything so shallow, but the level of depth that some individuals have that is both sharp, and delineated and warm and fuzzy. I have had some friends who were nightmares in evolution, and then I have others who are so wonderful, that given any opportunity to spend time with them it is a pleasure. Personally, I am no traitor to my gender, I love being around females, and enjoy the whole aspect of being with a bunch of girls.


Heightened reality, where you can understand the rhythms of other's energies... Whilst encouraging them to circumvent their fears (particularly of failure).. To find a way to re-allign them to their stated goals... My favourite alliances are always with men and women who are like me in that they know what they want, and are prepared to 'play the game', to get it without stooping to gain a point...

I get frustrated with friends (nearly always women, so if you are a woman ... read this carefully) ... who consistently show inconsistency, in their lack of sticking to their original statements... So I am saying...'But I thought you said he was a complete b*st*rd ... and you wanted to be a stronger, more self reliant person... That you wanted to be secure in yourself and not allow anyone to systematically destroy your self esteem, because they have commitment issues, or cannot keep constancy in their relationship...'... Their reply... 'I know, you are right, but he is so handsome, sweet (when he isn't drunk/drugged/etc... and if it wasn't for Her (the woman - his lover/wife -he is living/cheating with)... we would be happy'... Particularly when it comes to apply strategy ... ha ha ha... The reality is that they always change their minds about what they wanted, and don't communicate it to you... DUH!

If you want to have a view on men, which disects them, considers them, and ultimately understands them, speak to a female! I have never met a single man who was able to understand women, in the same way... the ones with a healthy respect for women, were probably closer to being respected by women back.

I have little respect for women who see every woman as a rival or say, 'I only get on with men', implying there is some inherent issue with their female fiends... I mean 'friends'... After all maybe they attract challenging relationships which leave them unsatisfied. I think though that it has taken time to find the handful of friends who want to share secrets, or experiences worth sharing, especially as they are always more intense in the moment they are experienced!




I have several friends that have remained true from when I met them at 10 years old, to today... something I find remarkable is that you can discuss your intensity with a women in such a way that the dialogue can continue spinning for hours, you can do this with women you may just meet or women you have known for a number of years. I have had three difficult relationships with women, who had difficulties in their own self-love, and emotional growth, or sense of self-esteem to the degree that they found it either difficult to be their own person around me or they were too manipulative (passive-aggressive) and required therapy.

One of my favourite analysers when it comes to genuinely understanding human relationships, and with one of the most endearing insights was a lady called Judy, my ex-boss for a while some time back. A wonderful, exciting, intelligent, ebullient Firebird... like the Phoenix she could rise out of the flames and sparkle.

However, apart from the few crazy-loonies that everyone normal gets to deal with, the rest are fun when sharing the romancing issue, (women's favourite subject), or their latest victory over some personal crises, (women are fantastic crises managers, they can juggle in a way that I have yet to see men achieve). In every socieity it seems these days women are heading up households, particularly, in the area of raising children.

I wanted to mention a couple in particular because they have helped to cultivate my focus on my creative, artistic side in particular.

Now I think that your relationships with women are a key part of your own emotional growth, because regardless of your gender how you relate to them is key to how they view you. In my case I have a healthy regard and tend to attact mainly intelligent or quickwitted females, mainly I suppose because of my own speed of thinking, and value system. My closest alliances at the moment are with women that I consider whole. Those that are self-contained for whom a man is a bonus, but who I believe (even if they don't suggest the confidence themselves) can stand independantly without a man.

However this has not always been the case, at different times in my life I can frankly say that the relationships changed in energy or dynamics, where I felt I was playing almost a the role of the psychotherapist, or rescuer. The scenario being that I would be solving some problem and/or helping out some friend in a way that they needed that support, emotionally or physically.... until they found a man they could depend on.




silver favorites by Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema

I thought for a long time that this rescuer role was just an intrinsic part of who I was. So rather than the role of a sister-figure, or a mother-figure nurturing, I found that I was playing a lead role, or directing situations to better the relationship, or curcumstances others had placed themselves in.

The result was that I recognised quickly that in fact this is the role that my mother herself has developed for her own life, one of compassionate healing, or allowing others to lean on her whatever her own personal disadvantages or difficulties. I suppose you learn by example. There are individuals for whom the rescue impulse is greater than being rescued.

I think that this instilled a sense of independance and delicious sense of risk management in me, where I could take some pride in being able to show myself to be reliable and trustworthy, effortlessly. I found it easy to be this person that could make a stand for others and then live up to those expectations.

Where this role became difficult was when to switch off. I think this explains the men that I have as my friends, most appear self reliant, self sufficient, and tend to be loners. I like those qualities, with lots of depth to their characters. Since most of my female friends were highly effective at managing relationships, I discovered that I enjoyed the company of those who were less interested in that area of interest and more in the infinite struggle within their roles at work, so for me, that became more interesting.


Painting of Lady Agnew of Lochnau by John Singer Sargeant


I was rather astounded when I came across this portrait, it could easily be of my closest friends, Susana, is a Reiki Healer, her gift of cards with beautiful artwork paintings of 'Angels' blessings are wonderful to read. I related to her very much in the way she handles her work situations - or how she reacts to her work challenges.... (well we are the same sign)... quite an extraodinary beauty, who is from Mexico, she is always sending me lovely, unusual gifts from her region. Her young daughter has the same gentle spirit.

My mother has adopted her along with my other best friend Lilly, who writes lovely, soothing love poetry. She has raised 3 stunning daughters, well balanced and grounded, and when she writes love poems about her man, these are flowing, and sweet. She is a curly fair haired, blue-eyed babe, possibly one of the kindest women I have ever known. Both call me sisters, and both have an illuminating appeal in that they can discuss any poetic subject with intensity, clarity and more sensitivity than you can imagine. What is more they are genuinely kind souls. There is no malice within them, and dialogue is often cleverly humourous without spite or sarcasm.




St. Catherine of Alexandria by Raphael' the painting is the spitting image of romantic Lilly...

Both women are avid writers, which is why in particular they are perfect for this site. They have fine minds, sensitive and sharper than most men they have to handle for sure!

What I think impresses me to their creative minds is that they do not fit into the role that most people imagine which is that women are competitive with each other. Each has her own self contained identity, and each has a family structure that is vital to them, both are mothers and they have this source of internal strength that makes it possible for them to make sacrfices beyond their capacity, and what is expected of them. I find that they are deeply committed to their spiritual beliefs (or religious) and this effuses them with a delicate charm that I personally find wholesome as they have clear cut ideas on what matters, what is real, and what is transparant.

Both are wonderful writers, each is skillful at blending the written word with their feelings, and inner truth.

Lilly and I can talk intensely for hours on end, developing a theme, a few days later an email from her will be so attentive, considerate and with lovely streams of emotional feelings running through them. Whether the subject concerns some man I am having issues with or some work issue she is confronting, whereas I may address it more intellectually, she always gives me the personal, subjective viewpoint.

Real women can compliment each other or each other's work without an admission of insecurity or uncertainty and without feeling that by communicating an appreciation of another's beauty, performance or inner strength that it would in some way undermine their own or lesson it. I find it easy to be effusive about them for it has taken alot of dialogue between us to get to the point where they say to me and I to them... 'Well, you know my secrets better than anyone... so what do you think?' and then to find that actually they had the same sense of high standard values, set for themselves that you do.

Another thing, I find (they communicate to each other to when they want to, since I do not keep my friends apart), we share a similar passion for the truth, for openness and most of all for avoiding between us any rivalry that could present itself by naming situations as they occur truthfully and openly in the moment rather than sulking and withdrawing, we face things square on. This is an interesting concept because over the years my worst relationships have been with what I would call those that need too much internal dialogue to work through before they are ready to face a straightforward communication.

Of course sometimes you have a misunderstanding or some minor infraction of good will between you, you lose contact, but when you are in touch - particularly when Fate lends a hand, mature individuals will rise above the pettiness and graciously shake hands and renew acquaintances, without moralising or a secretive roadmap of vengeance, rivary or co-dependance.

Not that there is anything wrong with this but some people are genuinely very sensitive and unable to get past some emotional damage that was childhood inflicted where perhaps a difficult parent suppressed their communication, or engineered them such that perhaps (divorcing parents using the child as a tool etc) they were unable to initiate the dialogue maturely.

I suppose that the friendships that are working best for me are those that are like that. It is easy to be petulent and sulk, withdraw and hide, thinking 'that punishes others' when actually they see it for what it is, a sadness within this tortured individual where they cannot compose themselves to be able to actually discuss their issue openly, directly and assertively in otherwards in an adult mature way. I guess you eventually work out what fits with your own personality best, and yep you just accept people 'warts and all', as another fab fit, super often reminds me, whilst I should add being super-conscientious of each of her own pretty dimples (grin)....

So I respect women who can maintain healthy inter-dependant friendships with their 'female friends', and manage their natural rivalries where these exist, and without allowing these to appear overtly gushy and therefore about as real and deep as a pond. One of the women that makes me laugh alot because (she is a scorpio) of her almost 'Polyanna' approach to shopping, 'I have no concept of finance,' she said whilst sipping Hot Choc, then looking outside with a sheepish guilt, her china-blue eyes (if you have seen the mobile phone 'cute Nessy', she has the same colour eyes!), mop of dark hair, and pale white alabaster skin (it cannot be paler)... being a striking contrast to the coffeeshop we are in at the time... but not too guilty to look pleased and glowly over her latest pretty item, all wrapped in tissue, and in a small designer bag... Now her Boyfriend is wonderful, kind and sweetly in awe of her (rightly so)... she always manages to (quite effortlessly) disguise the price with adroit subtlety...

She missed her true vocation, I think, she should have been a mystery shopper! If you need a secret kept there is your gal! If you need to see sweetness and a sting she is sharp, sassy, and flirty... but in the 'tongue-in-cheek' way never crass, never overdone, and always considerate!

She is one of the two best allies to go clubbing with I have known, she doesn't abandon you whilst cruising (on the pull) to ensure she appears to have achieved the hiatus of feeling desired... she also has the style to ensure she and you leave together so you are both safe... so it isn't down to me (as normal) to be the 'rescuer/carer/in charge'... I have known a few idiots who get so unstable or incapacitated that you end up being in a high risk situation, worse they have no apology for their reckless lack of self restraint.. (This is not the same as having your drink spiked by a parasite, which happened to a friend of mine and she was violently sick, and very apoletic... poor thing)... when she discreetly whispered she needed to leave quickly... I took heed, and we left immediately, I do not put my friends at jeapordy or before having a social time when I am out with them.

I suppose not everyone is capable of or able to outgrow the silliness of dizzy shallow friendships, I for myself have always held my friends male or female with equal high regard, and with the same level of trust and viligence that we each deserve, so that you look out for those you love and protect their interests, as you do your own...