...Old Man River... Marked a 'Man's' journey

Art Quote

"Art is dangerous. It is one of the attractions: when it ceases to be dangerous you don't want it."

Duke Ellington


Old Man River

Paul Robeson's lyrics that evolved, reflecting his monumental life, and vision for the past and future are truly a lifetime achievement. This should be a part of every man from each nation's collection of resonating pieces, and a study piece for every child of every nation.


If I had ever met him, then along with Martin Luther King, I would have hugged him... for a long long...Time.

Art Quote
"Art is the symbol of the two noblest human efforts: to construct and to refrain from destruction."
Evelyn Waugh


I was gently being shaken not stirred, like ice cubes in a tumbler, on a train, aged 22, working in London, it was a cold bleak January, and it was a short term placement, since I am not a natural commuter, I find it claustrophobic, and the jostling, and chronic bad manners, where stubborn shiny suited men have no intention of giving up their seat for women with shopping, or children, never ceases to amaze me!

I had a prose book open and with a knife sharpened pencil (my Dad would do this the old fashioned way), I was underlining, and making my observations, an old habit of mine.

Quite surprisingly for the time of the day, the underground train was unfilled. Everyplace we stopped people were warming their hands with their breath or tensed up pulling collars high, every so often a mist would seem to hang between stations, and the windows felt cold despite the heated train.

We drifted through the atrium passages, opening and closing doors, weaving snake-like underneath London, light, then dark, then reading, glimpsing, fixating on advertising billboards, or flash card posters, of what we really needed to feel fulfilled.

It became more warm and the smell of chocolate that had spilt or melted on seats, and the musty smell of sweat and traffic became stifling, as underneath our seats old dusty fan heaters churned to warm us whilst suffocating us with their single speed heat.

There were about 15 or so of us left within the long train, and then a black gent climbed on. He shuffled on and then sat about 12 feet from me. I could see him through the glass partition windows. He was ashen grey, his matt black skin, looked like ebony with a fine layer of dust. His features were softly passive, relaxed, and I imagined in his youth he was a handsome muscular man full of passion and energy.

I thought this, but knew that whatever he may have been, now he was struggling to seat himself.

His overcoat appeared to look pewter grey: waxed, it was I supposed caked in the city's dirt and grime, everything appeared the same chalky colour, from his hands to his small plastic bag of personal affects to his long overcoat, his tight woollen hat, even his face. I wondered if he were a homeless vagrant.

Title: Depth

Artist: Nicholas Sanders, Leicester, England

I whispered '... There but for the grace of God go I...'

But then those beautifully frightening, scorching pain: eyes that looked at me for a moment settled softly, on my gaze.

Eyes that were hauntingly sad, something in me invites those kind of wretched emotions to rear in people, so that they share this moment of specificity with me, when we look at each other. I have seen so many eyes just like his. It is communicable the world over. His eyes were pewter grey, with yellow flecks, and the whites were almost like an Egyptian: bluey-red-veined ... marbled stone.

I smiled over at him; he barely raised any flicker or even the subtlest variation in his skin creases. Like a large boulder, this man for a second reminded me of Paul Robeson in his late fifties.

His breathing appeared heavy, laboured and his body like a walking corpse or cadaver seemed to be so tired, weary, his shoulders stooping as if to pull in the fabric of the universe and drawn it into his own navel, like a man searching for his own umbilical cord to a far remembered whisper of comfort.

He seemed to be wheezing, as if the very effort of breathing was in itself the dung beetles remaining resort for realising it's final push before it was cut down by the vagaries of life again and the boulder rolled over it and even further below it's journeyed climb.

Stanza from 'Not all that glitters is tin'

"Even so, he is aware, any moment, in wry despair
Burning coal eyes glare, coldly, reflected, wide-eyed, fear."

By Sapphire-X



But what made others vacate, was the smell that emanated from his corner. From the second he climbed on, the stench was incommunicable. It was like rotting meat; it made one literally want to 'heave'. I held my breath, I couldn't be discourteous and move and hurt his feelings. My mother's value system was already ingrained into my own ethical standpoint.

In the end there were just 5 of us, myself, he, two Chinese students, who seemed entirely oblivious, and an elderly man who smiled graciously with a kindly face, he had sympathy in his eyes.

Others that were arriving on the train spied him with disgust, revulsion, and then as quickly climbed off or moved through the chambers.

I could not take my eyes off him for two stations, then it become impossible for those climbing on not to remain on, it was central London so it was busy!

He reminded me of finding smudged and blurred with charcoals, a sketch, of him.

A pristine man aged around forty, climbed on the train, exceptionally shiny boots,polished jet; his neck appeared sunburnt, and he looked healthy and outdoorsy. His hair cropped very tight and he gave the impression of polished urbane charm, intermingled with 'Old Spice', and masculinity.

The minute he did, he went over to the man and he touched his arm, he quickly fumbled and then placed something in the man's hand, it looked like a ten pound note, and then he added, "You must get off at Bakerloo, and go straight to the Samaritans, they will know what to do for you! Can you hear me?"

The elderly man nodded, softly, (perhaps he smiled) heavily, his head stooped with the effort, as if a bowling ball was placed on his head. His powerful appearing hand trempled, as it closed tightly around the gift that passed hands. His laboured breathing was a sharp contrast to the energetic powerful man that leant close over him.

Nobless Oblige!

The man, with the ice-mirror shiny boots repeated his statement, and he added, "Go quickly, here you are, this is your stop, we are here. Don't forget ask for the Samaritans."

Then he went and stood by the doors and helped the man shuffle off, leaning out, and when he saw a railway attendant, he shouted out a command. He needs the Samaritans. The railway-man paused and then nodded.

Everyone looked around, surprised and alarmed; this statement broke their mundane self-contained aloofness and threw some of them into disarray.

I watched this man, watch the old man walking, or rather shuffling away. I stretched my neck and also looked over my shoulder to see the poor thing like a sloth, move slowly, edging himself leaning sometimes against the sides of the walls of the underground, and he appeared to be climbing step, laboured step, up the stairs now. Then the train moved on, and everyone appeared to take a long deep breath, of relief, since clearly we (I included) had held our breaths for much of the duration of the journey.

No-one spoke, I think people were genuinely concerned, polite, perhaps even indifferent.

I then heard a voice loud, (in fact TOO LOUD) clear, and easily recognisable, once that voice has been heard once!

"Why did he smell that way? Why did you send him to the Samaritan's? What was the matter with him? Is he going to be all right? I am ever so worried? What do you think?"

He turned to me.

"Thank you for asking!"

I smiled a crooked nervous smile, now everyone was staring at me. (I do this all the time, I ask a question regardless of where I am or how many people surround me, and often to my great embarrassment afterwards, I realise that unconsciously my right hand is up! Where the hell do I think I am in class? I could kick myself, it is a pattern that I have repeated all through my life, much to amusement of those around me happy to appear stupid, but pretty! Myself, I am mortified at my own sheer audacity). When this man spoke it was crisp, to the point, and with a powerful timbre to his voice, authorititative and with excellent controlled breathing. He seemed so self possessed and dynamic.

"That man is in the final stages of dying, he should be in a hospital bed, in Hospice, he is already beyond relief, you have observed a man in the last moment of his life, and if he is not dead within the hour, or matter of hours, he certainly will not see this day's end!"

I replied, "Oh, I understand. Thank you for helping him."

Then...

"By the way, how do you know?"

He smiled slower this time, he walked over to me, stood in front of me, and then he discreetly flicked open his long coat, like all his movements, crisp and efficient; shifting his rucksack, as his shoulders straightened briskly. Hidden, he wore the jacket uniform of the Blues and Royals: a soldier, he added, "... and (a soft hush pause)... I am a trained paramedic".

I nodded and gave him a crooked smile of acceptance, and noticed again his ice-mirror shiny boots.

His dark blonde, greying slightly hair, like a halo, in my mind, I felt a momentary bond with this stranger, so tall above me, I felt immediately child-like. He stayed by me, holding onto the hand rail, until his stop came and then he flicked his forehead, with the back of his fingertips, in an age-old familiar stroke we know to suggest 'adieu' and with a broad grin to rival 'Joel McCrae'; who he reminded me of particularly his profile, he jumped off atheletically, and bounded off up the stairs.

Then I immersed myself into my book of prose, I watched my pencil fall into the side of the door, lost; and when I saw my own tears drop twice on the pages, I shut the book tied my velvet ribbon around it, and climbed off the train, three stops before I was due to.

I walked up the stairs, up into the winter cold sunshine, and I undid my choking silk Hermes scarf, one my mother had given me especially from her own personal collection; I smelt it for a second, it had her perfume, because she took it quickly from her own coat pocket, and draped it over my shoulder, as I sipped tea and watched her feed my brother's Alsatian 'Major', with her own freshly cooked meat for him.

For as I was leaving, she had said hurriedly, "... Beta (child) keep your throat warm, you always get chills, and you don't want to catch your death of cold!

... And took a long deep breath. I walked the remaining 2 miles to my workplace, crying into it, the whole journey.




Cala-Lillies... I am unsure of the source for this beautiful photograph... apologies...

... There but for the Grace of God go I...

Journey


A never-ending circle of thought
Where silent scenes are executed.
Invariable themes confuse and delight.
Obscure the desire to change course

Spirited along a preserved path:
Fate signposts.
To comprehend for a moment: Life's
Serene Ambience.

Wait and contemplate the diverse
Hues assembled
There are many moods yet to know
That will perplex and subdue.

To be irredeemably lost
But not forgotten.
Absorbed into the metallic dusk
Where the Fearless tread.


26th January 1994.



Monet's tenderly painted Water-Lilies... even the onset of his blindness, did not blind him to the truth of the Universe... unlike other's!


If you have spare cash, consider MENCAP

When my siblings and I were little, (between 7-10 years of age) my parents would take us to Mencap's hut about 2 miles from our home and dump us there every Wednesday night to do our duty, which was to be able to comprehend other's difficulties, share any spare toys we had no use for and most of all in my Mother's words, 'to gain compassion towards others'.

The 'HUT' for Mencap, was where children, adults could paint, or play table tennis or have a small disco with real lights. Naturally the older ones fell in love. The carers would look nervous given that they felt that the nature of the condition required a certain level of emotional maturity, and there was always a chance that couples with the innocence of cherubs but raging hormones, would abscond off to the fields behind the hut...

When they (the lover's) gave each other a hand painted picture it would be look like 'Monet' to me, swirls of colour and often flowers being the theme...since they composed of mainly just a few colours... So when I was growing up, I always assumed that Monet was a previous MENCAP attendee! It was only when I was much older, that I understood about his cataracts...


Years later when my brother was first learning to be a Deejay... He is proud to say to this day, that his first gig was MENCAP's HUT.... in Slough... I love the people who I know there, they are reflections of the same human condition the world over... each of us working through our destiny.



... by Xsapph

This flower grew especially for you...

Monet's Nympheas...


No matter whom my mother visits, no matter who she visited, whether rich or poor her humility, her graciousness and her manners are impeccable. When she visits relatives in India, she equally spends time with those old acquaintances that she remembers from her youth, and knowing that they are probably giving her their all, she sits cross legged with them on the floor, and I hold her in the highest regard, because she never for one moment talks of Asians the way others might which is sometimes negatively. Instead you can see the esteem others hold her in because of the way that all her photos show her with arms around her. Wherever she goes there is this need by people to be close to her, to touch her, and to feel her love around them.

When I walk past a 'poor one', a 'tramp', my heart sinks.

I simply feel the pain; the most acute sense of powerlessness and say quietly under my breath, 'There but for the Grace of God... go I'.

When I worked at the Tennis Centre, part-time, after college, there used to be a man who clearly was 'falling down'.

He had lost his wife to a dreadful pain wrenching divorce; she had simply given up on him when he lost his job. She could not forgive him once she realised that he had carried on pretending for several weeks that he still had a position, to the point of taking his briefcase, and sitting in the park outside the Tennis Centre... until his supposed office hours were over.


Auguste Macke's wonderful painting is in the Ludwig Museum. Simply entitled, 'Man reading in a park, painted in 1914'.


Can you imagine this, poor man just sitting there looking into space, disheartened and magnetised to the wood and metal of the bench, feeling the despair of the those looking up from the gutter, a position that allows the widest perspective.

His nervous breakdown occurred due to his unremitting remorse at losing a parent.

The girls at the Tennis Centre (apart from a beautiful woman called Lorraine, a hard working intelligent Sagittarian) sneered cruelly behind his back, and acted appallingly uncaringly towards him.

I would usually be doing some admin. He would arrive, then I would hear their sarcasm, and his voice would stutter, becoming worse as their subtle barbs heightened, tightening his vocal cords with self-consciousness, his entry-wounds bare and exposed.

Okay, so if they thought I was going to stand there and allow it, yeah right!

I would quickly emerge, and ask him he needed a coffee, then get my purse and pay for one from the machine. I would glare at the girls, but not to embarrasse him by drawing attention to their pathetic conduct, therefore validating it.

After he would leave, they would try to engage me in some kind of pitiful dialogue, telling me about his many histrionics, his numerous letters to the police about some imagined persecution, or his (manic depression) fantastic letters to the Town Hall, complaining about some small annoying hole down his road. They would tell me that he had money due to his inheritances, and they considered him a waste of space.

Mostly they laughed at his stuttering and actually went so far as to imitate it.

...There but for the Grace of God go I....

'Weak is as weak does'.

Now here is what they did not know.

This man did not stutter around me, when I was alone, he would come in, and he would buy ME a machine-delivered drink. He was never the nuisance that had been represented to me; instead he was a remarkably intelligent man.

With thoughtfulness he shared his homemade sandwich with me, which I was too polite to refuse. But always, he found me a rose or shrub that had bloomed that very day in the Park.

He carried it in - wrapped in the foil or paper he had finished his lunch in, its damp stem would be covered in soft breadcrumbs, and it would look so limp, as if it had waited too long to be handed to me.

He would place it on the counter for me, then he would point at it's stamens, its pollen as it fell and coated his finger tips, and he would lift it's head as if it were a dead thing, a swan's neck limp. He would tell me something specifically factual about the nature of its hybrid species. He knew his horticulture, then he would with clear dulcet tones explain to me how he felt when his wife left, how shattered his existence was, how he had been an Engineer on so much money for so long, and then in an instance this was taken away from him, and he would then pull a leaf from the flower, and say 'like this... just like this.'

Poignantly, he carefully, broke off a petal; perhaps one that to his engineer’s eye of seeking perfect symmetry, and geometry, he thought it spoilt the design of the object.
Conscientiously he turned the paper from a corner so that the flower was seen from another angle, immersing himself in its flawlessness. He was a Capricorn, he had been born an only child, beloved of his parents, with a bookish middle-class affluence, where his father toiled long and hard in his office and his mother’s sole objective all day was to be there for her son and husband.

He was so grateful to his mother, and his father’s break up from his mother had made him determined to maintain his own marriage, long after it had become toxic.

I would know not to pick up the flower until he offered it to me, because at this point he was using it as a prop to his self-exposure. He would tell me how he picked up his wife's jumper the one she had left in the laundry basket, which she meant to wash, or take. He described that he held it close, and smelt her perfume, which was some thing cheap like 'Charlie'. He had not bought her this cheap perfume, he knew she was with a new man, and it left him betrayed, without purpose and he left his home each morning still all these years... (His misfortune was several years back).

He spoke to me in a well-modulated, perfectly relaxed voice, pitched at the same level and with a similar sound as Harrison Ford. He spoke to me softly, telling me that he was allowing himself to disintegrate. He would describe how he looked in the mirror and inconsolably just wept. He felt the enormity of his loneliness it ached within him and he felt, outside of the world, where friends were few, and countless rudeness from strangers was the one thing he could count on.

He told me that I was the first person to smile at him and to treat him as a human outside of the special services such as the Town Hall, or Police, who were always kind to him and that he could not help trying to gain some attention from them because of his need for human connection.

I asked what I could do to help him. He said, very clearly to me, ‘Nothing, just stay on this pedestal, I have placed you on, just stay there, it is a small measure of hope for me’. I asked what this pedestal was, I did not understand. He replied, that it was like being in love with the unattainable, but that he wasn’t in love with me, just that it was a bit like that.

He was in love with the love he had felt for his wife, in Life’s kinder days. He said that just my smiling at him, and that when I then stopped dead in my tracks and asked him if he was okay, because that particular day he had to sit down he was feeling particularly depressed, and I went to get him a glass of water.

Imagine all he wanted was ‘simple hope’.

He said that when I had placed my cool hand across his forehead, (I remembered that day), he had immediately reached for my wrist, and said, he was fine because no-one had actually shown him any kindness for around 4 years. He said he was so alone, and felt completely disregarded and invisible to the World.

He told me that it was incomprehensible to him how he could have fallen to this point; he had been so successful, with the semblance of a normal life, or so it seemed to him. How hurt he had been when, drifting into a semi-vagrancy but for his inheritance: that his old acquaintances turned their faces from him when he walked by. He seemed to be searching for answers and it occurred to me he was asking the Universe the wrong questions.

BUT not at the time I knew him, because I was too young to know how to guide him if at all, I was only about 20ish.

The only nervousness he displayed was that he would run his long restless fingers through his hair, and when particularly dynamic he appeared to have a habit of folding his arms close around his body, then releasing himself… As if it had been a long, long time since he was last held. He knew he was self-destructive but he wanted to continue doing this because it meant he was alive.

He always varied his reminisces, but he did the same thing each time which was that when he was finished, I knew, because he lifted this corpse of a beautiful flower in two hands and placed it out to me as if I were a ballerina who had just completed Swan Lake...

‘Be a good girl, and put it in water now, it grew especially for you – you know!’

Then he nodded almost clicking his heels to me, as a salute, and as if he had just given me some special kind of formal declaration or missive and left.



...by Xsapph

Stand by Me

Michelangelo Buonarroti, painted GOD...


Ben E. King's (Atlantic) classical beautiful rendition, 'Stand by Me'... brings this site to mind... to reach it click on the title of this article...


I visited this site, thought the breadth of articles was simply amazing, and it's focus on other's interests was humbling... They are based in Canada... isn't it amazing how the internet brings us closer to each other in virtual space!

To my surprise; Mike one of it's co-producers wrote back, and I wanted to plug it because I wish there more self-giving individuals that could be so gacious to consider others as this site inspires each of us hopefuls to do. I was astounded at the largesse of the creators! They have contributions from all over the world, and their willingness to enable this site it's continuity, is just fantastic!


"Thank you!
In fact, I have many invalids enjoying the site, including one with ALS, so
we know his days are numbered.
This chap, along with anyone else, is encouraged to contribute "fun stuff",
so he and others see themselves published on a regular basis, even if it is
a joke or story being passed along.
In this way, he is feeling that he is contributing something during his last
days on Earth, helping to make others smile.

Your own encouraging comments were appreciated.

Mike"

at sympatico.ca
http://rghs2004.blogspot.com/






Why did God give us so many neat things to do with so little time?

Stormy Summer

The Sierra Nevada Waterfall, and lake in California, by Albert Bierstadt


Imagine walking out with your vanilla coffee, barefoot, to such a sight! I wonder how one would write in such breathtaking surroundings on your doorstep!

Today, was just such a beautiful day, I love stormy summer's.... I went out into the garden briefly, because I had left a silk scarf to dry on the line, and it was drenched... and the colour of the light that appeared to be the setting for all that grew was like a greyish, translucent late afternoon shimmer! I think I have an eyeshadow that very colour!



... written by xsapph...


Footnote:
My mother reads my blog, and will then ring me if I haven't been active on it, and reproach me for my absence, today she said that this waterfall and landscape reminded her of her childhood in the Hill Stations around the Himalayas, and how she would shower in similar waterfalls. She said, that in front of the waterfall, there would be a path about 2 metres wide for walking along the foot of the waterfall, the water would suddenly slide across this path, so that it best it was only a few inches high, and dramatically fierce beside you, and then it would start again tumbling down and you knew it would rejoin the Ganges.




Painting: Lake Stream, Canterbury South Island by my Friend, Antonio Guzzo.

Do CPR with Premier.. Matt is a cheesecake!

Attention: Narrinder
Premier Training International
Premier Training International - Health & Fitness training courses available in the UK from Premier Training International Ltd. Premier's range of vocational fitness training courses ...
http://www.premierglobal.co.uk/

REF: Student Testimony re: specifically Matt – Our CPR Instructor –Performance Feedback

Dear Narrinder,

First of all, thank you very much for the dedicated manner in which you responded to my query, your patience and also the very swift replies to my further questions, I must say that your speed of response appears to be consistent with expectations!

Please feel free to use my letter as a recommendation for your courses, where appropriate. I am very pleased to be able to provide feedback the CPR course I recently attended at the Windsor Leisure Centre with Matt our Instructor.

CPR is one of those subjects where firstly, you know that the minute you have taken it the Universe is going to set you the challenge of applying it, and secondly, that it will involve the one thing not present at the course… Body fluids!

Matt, the instructor: if you met him fits into the tall, dark and handsome category, so for any healthy red-blooded female when you realise he is taking the class you are hopeful to be his subject/object basically any kind of volunteer he wants you to be!

I was happy to be placed in recovery position but would of course have wrapped my arms around his neck until tea-time– but unfortunately, at that precise moment one of the guys volunteered and I just sighed! Later that same guy was my prisoner, I mean my casualty for a particular exercise and I made sure I got him back for his earlier willingness and for spoiling my moment, by a headlock!

Next, we were shown a dedicated, and familiar approach used in many TV programmes… well actually we were shown the exact opposite because what we saw was very efficient, very precise and also so clearly presented that no-one could fail that had a brain-cell ticking. Not what we always see which is a life threatening situation that results in a person miraculously surviving from what look like strenuous and dramatic exertions!

Matt’s classes are very different from Paul’s because of course we all know Paul’s background in the use of firearms, and none of us think that Matt can use anything but a boom-a-rang or a some other ‘Aussie’, didgeridoo instrument, to threaten us with, so it is very relaxed – in fact it is something like an ‘Aussie –V- the rest of the world’… through no fault of his own, it just seems that way… an environment where everyone is laughing so hard that if you should pass by you think you are at a convention for medical laughing gas!

Now I have one complaint about Matt’s training day…. Everyone is shown how to yell for help…. Matt himself frightened the life out of us at least twice! YET – no one – I mean no one from the surrounding areas came to our assistance – despite there being at least 3 lifeguards directly outside our training area!

What this makes me think is that his course is actually bogus, because clearly no one cares that we are screaming at the top of our lungs…. ‘Help! Help!’

His patience with us was that of a watchful eagle, because he pounced the moment he saw some minor infraction to the continuity of the life of the ‘plastic dummy’ we practiced on!

One of his skills is that he is superman, he can actually see through your back and knows if you are positioned even a millimetre out of alignment with the process…or you are looking to stab your victim with a biro and about to attempt a tracheotomy!

Basically, this is a course that everyone should do!! I mean everyone, I think it should be compulsory at ALL schools, and would highly recommend that you approach schools and universities, and see if they could make it compulsory.

Whilst it wasn’t the more detailed version of the CPR it certainly wet your appetite for more of the same, I know now that if ANYONE appears to pass out in front of me (as long as there are no body fluids seeping from them), I will happily administer my new skills, in fact I am actually wishing it of those around me, I have tried to trip up two of my neighbours already! I watch hoping someone is going to suddenly drop – so I can test myself!

Finally, you will be very pleased to know that I did pass, despite stabbing my poor partner in the eye with my beautiful large silver ring, and dropping my necklace a rather large ominous cross into his mouth and nearly chocking him, when I leant forward and I cannot wait until I get my badge, (I hope I get a badge), and cap, (do I get a cap?).

I finally did get to give Matt a big kiss, but I think I stepped on his toe, and he may need attention, because I tripped over my bag, when I was leaving.

I should just mention that I am now going to try and do the longer 3 days with Premier… hopefully it will be with Matt again, and I can practice bandaging him! Otherwise, I look forward to the information he is going to send me regarding this.

Again, thank you Narrinder, hope you are having a great day! I am going to plug your organisation on my personal creative website as well as recommend it to the Marriot Hotel Gyms!

Best regarsd

Sapphire

Lizard Lover

....The liquid lover promises paradise
Techni-coloured lust
His serenade envenoms
Corrodes the hearts crust

9th July 1989
SapphireSphinx


... dedicated to a friend of mine who had an interesting history of choosing completly the worst (losers) men to fall hopelessly in love with, then contemplating vengeance, whether it was to make them jealous or to have a vendetta to undermine their new girlfriends, whatever it took to gain some closure... Now as you have noticed I do not discuss my girly friends on this site, for obvious reasons, do I want a coup d'etait!? NO... do I want them up in arms on my doorstep, waving their copies of downloads of my observations? Certainly NOT! However, I had to write this inspired as I was by her response to her boyfriend at that particular moment in time! She is happily involved (I must add as a footnote because she will know this is about her,) now with a simply gentle, sweet man, someone who cherishes her, and looks at her with loving puppy eyes... I know it is a little syrapy, I tell her that, but she shrugs her shoulders, and just smiles!

To do or Not to Do... that is the question...

Just as walking is not the only means to the journey, there are other means, like thinking and mapping and following paths or routes or maps even, and the journey is unending and there is no such thing as a journey’s end. Just as a full stop never signifies the end of a sentence when it is rejoinder to and only a pause for breath. So if you did not need to stop to breathe (attached to a cord that bypassed your mouth and just oxygenated your whole body) so you do not need full stops. When you talk to a person you do not have to stop for breath, just you do not have to talk. Silence is golden, but Gold is silent, and when Silver tongues are silent or when they are not they are NOT really silver.

On a scale of things is a teardrop, a pudddle, river, lake sea.. more or less in the scheme of the Universal Energy?


Puddle by MC Escher

If there is a reason to type then I type but when there is no reason to type I may still type in each case the reason to type is not the WHY for typing. The WHY is just sharing, so typing is sharing and sharing is not typing, but something else. The typing is not the way to share the ideas because there are words, thoughts, and feelings as well as events that form the content so typing is just a means to share, but to share or nor share makes the same difference which is no difference because the difference it makes is only to me for doing it, it may be satisfying to you or the person who is reading it. It is equal only to the bubbles that rise from champagne or cola, but the bubbles are the same, in that they reflect the whole room in both cases irrespective of the value of one type of bubble or the other by man’s measurement.

To choose to hang a picture or to not choose to hang the picture is in equal measure of energy and exhilaration, or disinterest. The choice to call it a masterpiece is not merely in the eyes of the beholder it is a masterpiece merely because it is created with everything that has been created by nature even the most synthetic fibres. To consider one piece more masterful than another shows that we have not contemplated how masterful the amoebae is or it’s importance in the scheme of things. The hierarchy that we define as important or superior is itself an illusion.

Tim Field: A knight Of Our Times

This personal narrative is to explain that one subject I know alot about is fighting, for myself, mainly for others and for any cause I have invested my ethical standpoint in. My Chinese sign is Metal, or King Rat, an instinct for survival in extreme conditions with intelligence are it's key words.

I think also the link below is one that Tim would approve of, a blogsite written by a man called David, a very useful site for those with Teenagers who have angst!

http://104teen.blogspot.com/


At the end of this article are links to help you protect yourself, arm yourself with knowledge, with support structures, and with a comprehensive incredible database library that is Labour of Courage and the Knight and Champion of the Underdog, 'SIR. Tim Field'!

I am always fascinated by the subject of bullying, what incited it, how did it self-generate, and the psychological aspects of it, I grew up on old Hollywood:

John Wayne... Gary Cooper, Audie Murphy, Mitchum, Bogart, Gable, Stewart Grainger, Valentino, Yul Brynner, Tyrone Power, Kirk Douglas, Burt Lancaster, Charlton Heston, Montgomery Clift, Steve McQueen, Sidney Poitier, Cagney, Clint Eastwood, Edward G. Robinson… Rock Hudson, Tracy, Cary Grant, Robert Taylor, Richard Burton, Errol Flynn, Paul Newman, and Marlow Brando.

My Father is very like Shane, Alan Ladd's character, and to this day, I can watch Bruce Lee (my brother and I have all his films) relating to the subject matter, drawing from our own experiences of a darker, tougher time when we were growing up, when Enoch Powell's propaganda, the National Front, and skinheads made us unwelcome and my father often a target.

More than once my father, arrived home - we knew he had been in a fight, but we also knew he was equipped to handle himself. Once, he was assaulted by a bully who unprovoked; attacked him with his wife, and children watching. On one occasion, my father was in the car, when the man pushed himself into the window and started punching him, I was behind and grabbed the mans hair in my fists, and scratched him with my nails; I was about 9, which did not help Dad... my brother was yelling and practically on top of me fearlessly, he wanted to protect his dad, he was so little, with the most perfect nose!

I had a female friend, a puckish smile, sharp witted, cruel at times; who unremittingly exhibited all the tendencies, without accepting accountability, apology, or ownership of her appalling behaviour. When I met her I was the form captain, and many times took her aside, and index finger in her pugnacious scowling face, I myself frowning like the Grim Reaper, stated in no uncertain terms, I disapproved of her bullying poor clumsy, awkward, Shashi! At the same time, I wanted to hug her; something made me think she was herself troubled; she had innocence in her reckless audacity. Her sharp features and tiny body made her a little Hitler! She was only 4ft 10” at a stretch!

I kept forgiving her from our first meetings to the last, but the ruinous drama she created, incited, enjoyed, was bewildering to others. What was fascinating was that she really relished her perceived power over her weaker objects of attention, who she felt an intellectual superiority over. Please note, she is also a wonderful, comedic genius, bright, articulate, intelligent... but I am stating the factual aspect of her dark side...

Yet in a heartbeat, against all my friends best intentions for me, I would put my arms around like a big sister, (though we are the same age) kiss her on the forehead and wish her inner strength and courage to overcome these weaknesses, however she lacks the integrity to redeem herself.

However, perhaps if she reads this and has finally grown up, she can know all is forgiven, and I love her still, but so many ‘spiteful, malicious’ incidents that she thinks were funny, are beyond compute.

Interference in my life was often under questionable motives, when confronted by her own weaknesses she either flew into a rage, or sulked and withdrew sans apology taking on the role of the misunderstood, vilified victim. I will always care for her because I understand her, but it is sad that she lives in this illusionary world where she can always retreat, convincing herself that because a parent bullied her mentally, this is itself the source of her malcontent and vengeance towards those who either love her the most... Or at worst those she considers weak, too beautiful, 'stupid, slow'... old, smelly...anyone is a target for her spite, her physical attacks, and her put-downs'

My background

I grew up in a tough world for a child, ethnic outsider looking in... Where I frequently cracked the heads of bullies picking on my less confident or 'different-square-eccentric-intellectual-friends', one in particular a girl called Rosemund, was always their target. Rosemund was like Kelsey Grammar's character 'Fraser' from TV. I recently saw the episode about him dating a sport instructor, who was harsh on the tubby girl in school, well that girl could be Rosemund. Her experiences as a child were a constant avoidance of sport and bullies. She had a briefcase, brown shoes and looked the spitting image of like Miss. Piggy, with her hair bands and dark gold hair. I liked her mind, she was always plaguerising Hollywood stories, such as 'Arsenic & lace' with Cary Grant: but she was different, she eventually went to Cambridge to study literature so she beat them, by her own success in the long run!

The enemy were two girls who had been to Borstal and ended up at my school, one favoured the look of a punk rocker, and the other was a Mod. I eventually won these two over, but it took a year of in fighting, they often boasted of going to football matches with broken beer bottles, which they hurled blindly, into the crowd!

The reason we became allies and they stopped bullying is remarkable, Ted Hughes the Poet, met me at school and chose two of my poems in his school circular, that was to encourage local poetry interest. I wrote their entries as well purely as a favour, and helped them set the rhythm and rhyme... because I love those kinds of poems best! Strange isn't it? Fists failed where a soft word was successful!

A year earlier, one of them spat on my own briefcase, but I would never have run...When the bully spat at me, and it landed on my briefcase, we were walking up the fire escape. I stopped at the top of the flight of stairs, wiped it off on the bully's shirt, and then I pushed her down a flight of stairs when she tried to grab my long hair, and deck me. Another time I had a window seat and was rocking back on my chair, she pushed my table hard into my stomach so I was wedged between the window/wall and table. I flexed my knees, and kicked her so hard she fell backwards, dislocating her wrist, as she landed into a bin!

Unlike Rosemund, a self-professed coward, a funny bright girl who would abandon me when I fought for her, her fat legs found the lightening speed of an escaping, swiftly fleeing ostrich, I always marvelled at how she propelled her tubby form, it was suspicious... She never showed that form in Hockey, or track... AND she was hopeless at any ball co-ordination and would look miserable waiting forever in the sidelines. I was the fastest up the rope, I did gymnastics, mainly vaulting over the horse, somersaults etc, she meantime was sitting cross legged waiting with another note, and a permanent cold, or headache, or some other illness to avoid gym.

I must have fought at least 30 times for her over 4 years! She was an aquarian, who greedily, would put her fork under my arm and steal my chips, surrepticiously, who had no street-wise savvy, she played piano, violin, could not run under normal competitive sports, was the last line-up girl to be picked... and was easy prey for her enemies!

Sometimes, I wanted to slap her myself really hard, 'Rosemund you idiot, not again!' She took risks that led her into dangerous situations, like a bafoon, she would go down the underground when it was dark, I would go over the road, and wait to see if she came out... then I would hear her scream. I would sigh, turn back and run down and she would be standing there actually shaking, whilst surrounded by hard cases, smoking and trying to burn her with their cigerettes. Her briefcase being emptied and laughter at the size of her gym shorts. They would turn to me, and say it had nothing to do with me, I knew it, but I was compelled to be involved.

Yet she never once thanked me, not in all the years I knew her she stopped shaking would pick up her bag clutching it, her knees bloodied or her nose, sometimes she had a bruise on her eye, where her glasses had caught her face! I would sqeeze her shoulder comfortingly, 'You okay?' she would be trembling still.

I wasn't alone I had two friends who fought for me, Jane Erdinc (a Saggitarian, brunette with the Osmand’s smile: the most perfectly, naturally beautiful girl, half Turkish, I have ever met in real life), and Michael Fox (I had a crush on him forever, a Librian, gymnast who could do the crucifix with the rope rings... that was my first sight of him, we will always be friends)...

I had my own permanently attached, bully who later alongside Jane, became my best friend after we had a tough fight. She cut my lip and I bloodied her nose, she was and remains about 7 inches taller than me. Her name was Susan Wharton, she never showed racist intent, with her, she said it was just envy, I was the fastest runner and my athletic prowess as she told me, along with my brains intimidated her... I played sports in teams and individually around 5-6 days per week. I organised a charity incentive, and sang in the choir... I was a loner, who refused the comfort of cliques... instead I mixed with the athletic boys mainly, with whom I played table tennis every day for 4 years - almost every break, or every lunchtime, and the squares-so-called 'anoraks'.

The reason she picked on me that particular day, she said it was because I answered all the questions during a quick fire round in one of our classes.

Like now ... most of my life I have had very long hair, she was the only girl that did not grab my long hair, and scratch or bite! (Like my brother! ha ha ha)... she fought fair - just fists... She was a blonde pretty girl who looked like Lucille Ball! Once we had fought, the next time I saw her between breaks, I said quickly, 'Susan, I am going to really hurt you this time, you think carefully about this, because I am not backing down!'

I tensed myself, I was not in a good mood, she crossed the corridor and my group of friends alongside hers stepped back, she stood in front of me, and I realised how tall she really was, again I tensed, I put down my bag, and squared up, she put out her hand and said, 'Friends?' and smiled. Then she rubbed the top of my head and picked up my briefcase and handed it to me saying, 'this is as bad as Rosamunds!' I replied, 'No mine is leather, my father bought me this, it has my initials inside and I am not changing it!' She started to laugh and we went off to P.E, where for the first time in 2 years we were on the same side.

I never retreated or gave in, and as my school friends can vouchsafe, caused many a bloody nose, I have never been intimidated by violence or threats, I do not condone violence, but I won't stand there and co-exist with a bully without asserting myself and resolving situations with a planned offensive.

We were always coming home, my brother and I: bloodied, he came off worst, because he was an intuitive, instinctual fighter, he deployed all the tactics available to him, he bit, he scratched, he punched, he kicked... I know because he was always winding me up and fighting me, he was the Transylvanian Devil, a fighting flaying dervish, typhoon when attacked. My mother aptly nicknamed him the Hurricane, if you like James Cagney then you will love my brother... he is exactly like Cagney! ... and me I am the unpredicatable Whirlwind!

Why? Because I turn direction anytime, I can stop turn on my heel and walk away, at any time, the fight has to be worth the sacrifices, the costs, the resources and my personal objective must have been met. I am clear about my mentally drawn line, I never step over it and won't stoop to gain a point, it is a hollow victory, and I don't operate that way.

As my mother often reminds me I am strictly my Father's daughter, philosophical, I would fight clean, with a level of integrity, and fairness and more often then not try to reason with my assailant....

I would literally turn to walk away, they would lie a hand on my shoulder and without any hesitation I punched out, and I can punch hard! I personally never lost a fight, but I resisted being put in the situation. When you are the underdog, called every kind of name from ‘wog, paki, darkie...’ etc you do your best to retaliate intelligently, walk away... when hands are laid onto you it is different.

Years ago when someone started to pick on me, my brother turned to my mother (she told me this) and said, 'He has no clue as to who he is dealing with, right now she is assessing his weaknesses but if he pushes her too far she will turn on him and she is a bitch!'

Ha ha - he meant it in the nicest possible way!

My brother and I had at least a couple of physical incidents each month, often more frequently. We lived in nice areas here in England, but we were the only Asians. We had no one to turn to in terms of peers. In fact I never had more than one other darker skinned face in my class until I went to do my A’ levels... even then I think there were only about 4/30. At university it wasn't much better, again very few like me, with ethnic origins!

Bruce Lee and Mohammad Ali were the first ethnic hero's that my brother found gave us inspiration in our times! Martin Luther King was dead by the time we were fighting for ourselves.

My nephew attends Taikwondo classes for this very reason... to avoid a fight, passive resistance, yet to be armed should he require the skills, mental strength and emotional fibre to have to. We want him to defend the weak, and be a hero in his own right!

My parents were tough, my father was a wrestler as a young man and undefeated for his age (until he was 18). His nickname was Rusthum, (the undefeated Indian/Muslim King of our History). He had a gang, and he was imprisoned for a year during which time he was consistently tortured without leaving scars, to the degree that he had broken ribs, which to this day remain slightly protruding. The reason he was imprisoned was to stop him from eloping with my beautiful mother.

My mother's family were colonial, her Father was a Major-General in Rangoon, Burma, pictures of him with elephants, tiger shoots... showed a sharp, intelligent, strong man.

Her eldest brother was very handsome, a lion-like, stunning man: the senior physician for the Indian Police Force, that covered a territory three times the size of England: an incredibly high office for someone as young as he was. My uncle was a truly wonderful man, he never intended for my father to be tortured but that was just endemic of prison life.

My father did elope with my mother, but he did it intelligently, in an exquisite way.... like everything he did, it was finesse.... planned out, coolly, and demonstrated that he had more than just beauty he had strategy. My mother as a brave, courageous protest, had during his prison stay abandoned her affluent background and moved into a YMCA, run by Nuns, and Nurses. Dad, dressed like an electrician took his fearful cousin, calmly walked into the building and then scoped it out to find her and then escaped with her... The police were alerted and they had to find every type of mode of travel and disguised to get past them, as they fled across three states.




When I see this picture it reminds me of my Mother, and my Father:
...La Belle Dame Sans Merci painted by John William Waterhouse.


They eloped and once the deed was done, my wonderful, forgiving gracious Grandmother - Beejee, forgave them, and accepted Dad. She said many times to me when she was alive that he was simply the most beautiful creature she had ever seen. She smiled softly a 'Buddha-like Goddess'. She was an inspiration in forgiving, in love and in intelligence. She always said, 'Do not sit silently like a foolish person, if you have an opinion, share it aloud, if you do not understand ask for clarification, but never sit there looking pretty, you waste your most powerful asset – your brain, and you are then missing out in learning!'

My parents have taught all their siblings to defend the weak, we have never been instructed to walk away from a situation concerning a bully 'beating up emotionally/physically' another weaker person, and this just isn't a part of my identity.

My Father taught us to plan our approach and find a route intelligently through battle; my mother inspired us to consider the heart & soul of the weaker person. My brother and I in particular would never have come home and tell her that we had stood by and allowed another person to be hurt and not helped; she would have been appalled.

On two separate occasions my kid brother was close to being beaten up at school, luckily I was within 100 yards of the incident... I would run back, and go hell for leather... ‘don’t you dare touch my brother! ' and then ended up in a fight. One time my best friend Julie, a Capricorn, saw my little brother being attacked by two boys in the year above... I ran over grabbed the pair of them, swing them free of my little brother, pushed one of them , hard enough that he went through a small office window, which had special glass and came away from the frame but didn't shatter. Julie told my kid brother to run... He did! (HA HA, left me the tyke)... I picked up a chair and hit the other one (I had seen too many films), and then I (not them) was hauled off to the vice principals!

No one I mean - no one hurts my brother!

Outcome, I am standing in front of the Vice Principal: getting a dressing down, because the bullies have come worse off! Now nothing that idiotic niave man said to me at that time made me repent. His wife owned a business next to my parents, and when he escalated it to my mother, she fully supported my decision, particularly as usually when we were attacked it was 2-3 others, and at the time my fiery tiger-bro’ was little, cute and they were usually bigger than both of us.

Being Asian in an ALL white comprehensive, which at the time boasted 3-mile long corridors and was featured on a documentary, was hard! My brother and I cut our teeth the hard way, and I have to say it held us in good stead, because we have never been the types to suffer for long at the hands of another person's insanity.

... But let's face it as you grow up, you cannot use your fists situations become more complex, there are so many situations where you feel defenceless! Sometimes you have to find an inner resilience, to stand true, steadfast and look for the reason to withdraw your sword and fight. If you are looking for inspiration then this site is for you, if you are the finding you are the person such venom is being directed, or you know someone else who needs advice, support…




'Accolade' painted by John William Waterhouse.

Tim Field is a living breathing, Knight Of Our Times, find him at: www.successunlimited.co.uk/bio.htm.


If you need to find a plan - learn how to protect yourself at: www.thefieldfoundation.org

Both situations led me to consider Tim Field's site, and his personal emails to me a great source of inspiration, comprehension, understanding and forgiveness. He was fighting his own battles at the time but found time to be there for me.

Please add his site to your 'favourite links', and forward his links to your friends, family and anyone you think or believe is being bullied, are a bully or is suffering in silence because like my friend they lack self-awareness.

Tim Field graduated from Staffordshire University (formerly North Staffordshire Polytechnic) in 1975 with a First Class Honours degree in computing science, after which he spent nearly twenty years at the forefront of computing in programming and systems support and development. His technical expertise was complemented by a commitment to user support and customer service specialising in designing and delivering training programmes for users with little or no knowledge of computing. He became a regular speaker at user group conferences around the world, including UK, Switzerland, Sweden, Australia and USA.

Drawing on the experience of being bullied out of his job as a Customer Services Manager in 1994 and experiencing a stress breakdown, he founded the UK National Workplace Bullying Advice Line in January 1996 and was first featured in the Independent on Sunday, 28/1/96.

Tim's Advice Line has logged over 10,000 cases similar to his own. During 1996 he wrote, typeset and published Bully in sight which was the first book to identify the sociopathic serial bully in the workplace.

In 1997, recognising that he couldn't sustain the level of telephone demand indefinitely, he set up a web site Bully OnLine which went live with six pages in January 1998. In 2004 there are over 400 pages and the one site has expanded into three sites:

The Field Foundation at www.thefieldfoundation.org for all activities related to support, advice, awareness raising and education about bullying.

Bully OnLine at www.bullyonline.org is the largest project of The Field Foundation and is where the bulk of Tim Field's insight is available. Bully OnLine is the world's largest Internet resource on bullying and related issues including stress, trauma, PTSD and bullying-related suicide.

Success Unlimited at www.successunlimited.co.uk is where Tim showcases his books and seminars. More books are in planning, and a film script. His professional biography and client list is at www.successunlimited.co.uk/bio.htm.

Don't suffer in silence - arm yourself, there is a great blog for teens so if if you are TEEN.... Check it out.


Bully OnLine at http://www.bullyonline.org

The Serial Bully at http://www.bullyonline.org/workbully/serial.htm

Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) at http://www.bullyonline.org/stress/ptsd.htm

Sharing my experience with a Fab Training Company!

03/06/05

Attention: Lynne
Premier Training International
Premier Training International - Health & Fitness training courses available in the UK from Premier Training International Ltd. Premier's range of vocational fitness training courses ...
http://www.premierglobal.co.uk/

REF: Student Testimony re: specifically Paul – Our Instructor – Feedback on Performance

Dear Lynne,

You may recall we spoke before my course? Please feel free to use my letter as a recommendation for your courses, where appropriate. I am very pleased to be able to provide feedback on a week’s course with Premier Training International in this personal approach (I will fill and return the Customer Sats form also).

Paul, Brett and Matt, the Windsor Leisure Courses Management Team from the onset, were efficient, very clear and approachable, really welcoming… whilst we students were an unruly, undisciplined group, with some ‘big wise-cracking personalities’ and some shy, reserved gentle individuals too.

To give you a landscape of the type of individuals they had to deal with, we had everything from a lady with roller coaster emotions to a chap who had made real personal sacrifices whereby he had taken a heavyweight loan to pay for his course, and left his job committing himself entirely to this endeavour. We had younger members fresh out of school… and female rugby players, and those who had spent office time in I.T realising they were losing some financial security to be here and thus it meant a lot to them. Now with such a variety of backgrounds, education, and maturity levels as well as ages from 18 to 50, it was a challenging role for anyone, in our case: Paul our conscientious, enthusiastic and determined trainer to handle such an eclectic group, without shooting one of us, though he knows how to use firearms and may have had a pistol next to the computer.

Each of the above management team brought their own personal people skills to the group and the general consensus was very positive. I would like to specifically mention Paul, because we spent a lot of time with him and quite frankly from my own background (currently in between jobs), as a Quality Manager (European Standards) for corporate type companies, where efficiency, cost effectiveness, time management, effective communication, and performance quality are paramount to my role, he was simply put an inspiration.

Paul has a slight stutter about 1-2 secs duration, very endearing when he first engages in casual dialogue, yet seconds later, once he is underway, he is awesome, his enunciation is perfectly controlled, his voice flawlessly pitched, to suit a theatre type of audience, and his delivery at a steady well managed pace, intelligently responding to the classes frequent peaks and highs of attention-span.

His command of the group shows his military background of leadership because he certainly had control of his large class, which is hard there were 20 people (a rabble) in that group, and that isn’t easy. His presence was such that his logical explanations, dramatic self expression and then focussed specificity on complex targeted subjects was executed with such precision and erudite knowledge that behind the scenes during breaks individuals were consistently running the same commentary… ‘It’s easy for him he has all this background, and he knows what he is talking about… but it looks tough to learn’…. Yet he was right when he said we were learning and relearning… to my complete surprise his technique and agility in manoeuvring between subject matter, such that bearing in mind there were three different course groups in there, myself a one week attendee, others doing a month, some others doing 6 weeks and then the entire 12 week program… I think… well the fact that he could disseminate the subject matter to be appropriate for each of these different levels, and to cover the requirements was quite remarkable. Astonishingly, of all we all went from ‘sloth to… cheetah’.

I heard from someone who had passed the course previously (the one I am on ‘exercise to music’….) and she expressed how well the course fit the exam requirements. That is in itself a great commendation. Only one young man did fall asleep during the first two days of the week – but his throat hickies (love bites) were reasons for his all night efforts in a related subject that of biology.

When we went into practical exercises at the end of the week, again Paul’s expertise and depth in background showed he was heads up to anything I have seen in the 20 years of gym work that I have experienced. Even there he maintained control, and was often observed involved in the subtlest change in posture to enhance the ‘stretch’ exercises, to take them from comfortable to excruciating pain, where none of us can walk today without the aid of good walking stick.

I have taught many presentations myself and I was genuinely impressed with his responsiveness and kindness to each of us, the Windsor team appeared to have this down to an art, where impeccable manners, a comforting but professionally detached approach was deployed, yet when perhaps a deeper compassionate style of responsiveness was required this was also in clear evidence. I was hoping in fact relying on favouritism as this has held me in good stead through school, but I was disappointedly treated exactly the same as the rest of the group!

Finally, I am seriously looking at adding more courses to my portfolio, something I really wasn’t intending to do… mainly due to the experience I have just had in finishing this first stage. I was in some ways an active resister, as I was forced to do this course due to a rule change to maintain my insurance with REPs I appreciated the reasoning but to be frank with you felt obliged at a time when I have to find a full time role to obviously just survive, and so I went into it quite reluctantly, and this negative attitude impacted because whereas I usually embrace subject matter and find it very easy to handle complexity, this time I was struggling to memorise information and some of the sport concepts were hard for me to grasp, which made me frustrated, and appear stupid. The price of which was 11 press-ups! Unfortunately my ineptness, dumbness, and blank expression went on for about 4 days, and then I clicked during one afternoon and found myself re-thinking my stance, from that point I reverted to being smart, and had the attention span of a cat with a mouse. Particularly as he made good his threats, and if you have not met him he is FIT, imposing, has a steely glance, and a pistol!

Anyway, I am hoping to look at the other courses and I am quite determined to force myself back into a school chair… particularly if the other trainers are as great as he is, and judging by his character, I am certain they would not last in his efficient organisation if they were any less quality performers!

Well, that is my summary, and I appreciate this is lengthy but I was keen to do this – irrespective of whether I pass or fail, I have left the course with great memories of the whole experience. Also, just for your information I have attended approx. 70 seminars, workshops, training programmes, over the last 24 years, and as a quality manager during that period, for approx. 13 years, with a client base of customers such as companies like IMRO Bank, NOMURA, SHELL, Mercedes Benz, Pedigree, Dun & Bradstreet, Marks & Spencer’s, M.O.D, whilst being an advocate for ISO9000 QMS, I believe I am someone who is skilfully competent in discriminating between high standards in quality and poor quality.

Please feel free to include my letter in any manner for your marketing purposes; I can be contacted to verify most of these details. Thank you for your kind consideration.

Yours sincerely,



Sapphire

Taurian Couples - The Perfect Communicators

I cherish my Taurians Friends!

I have two sets of Taurian couple friends where in each couplet, both individuals are born under the sign of Taurus... Being around them I don't feel as I normally do - on the outside looking in, a guest, or estranged by one or the other partner.

Instead it is an all embracing sense of belonging, like being part of their sensual/practical/earthy domesticity, both involve me in their non-minimalist, luxurious palatable meals... where nutrition not dieting is the keyword...

There are dogs... children... voluptuous females, intelligent strong men... family values, old fashioned down to earth timeless systems in evidence... and their uninterrupted by modern corruption - value systems remain natural, robust, yet flexible enough to cope with daily pressures.

Now I should add that I have other couple friends who are very much 'opposites attracting'... but this particular article, is about two sets of individuals, both unique in their personalities yet with the same star sign, and energy.

My gratitude to both couples is boundless!

I have probably the keenest sense of comfort, relaxation, well being, intellectual stimulus, creative aplomb and sensuality (by this I mean, all that surrounds the senses from smells, the most palatable wine) around them.

When you walk into their kitchens, you do not feel you are entering an operating room; the kitchen isn’t for show, an accessory to their ‘presented lifestyle magazine’…

The cook books are weathered, the kitchens are designed for the cook, there are jugs with herbs overflowing… a cottage kitchen ensure you are interested in the little bowls of olive oil with various herbs, or the bottles with spicy colours. They remind me I suppose of my mother… practical diligence, skilfully blending the fantasy of food to the practical palate of reality where you are actually eating the same recipe that you see in the pages covered with finger prints that touched jam, sauces, gravies…

When I am with them, it is never a case of predictable sameness… each time I visit it is different, they match my own hosting process. The most interesting, creative menus, with appetizing starters, then a simple but satisfying main course always with some unusual side plate of their latest finds ... Whilst this is being served up they are listening to me, adding to my dialogue, questioning me, really prompting me to think beyond my original idea, one feels entirely enveloped by comforting smells: vanilla, chicken soup, mint, fruit teas... They do not create a simulation of superficial comfort by shop bought candles or boutique flowers. Everything is natural, the flowers are from their garden, almost appearing wild, passionately unruly, the candles may be home-made or from Oxfam, and the tea cups are always interesting...

In other words very much like my own natural uncontrived sense of personal self expression.

The chit chat? Discussions that range from my favourite subject (tactical/strategy) and human behaviour dissection, they really like dialogue, that is obvious!

In all the years I have known these two couples they have never had the T.V on in the background, in their homes, during my visit... instead the art of perfect communication skills... With everything one dreams a meal should provide is in evidence. Both couples as individuals show different directions of interest in my life... Both partners are genuinely interested in my anecdotal reminisces...

How do I make this observation? Well in each case, I can develop a theme, an idea, or do a post-event summary, with one or both individuals. Now I may not finish it and perhaps get diverted to something else… in time they remind me – in other words, they have taken on board my thoughts, allowed some self-analysis of their own, and now they point me back to the statement I may have made and asked what my conclusions were.

What I can say is that having spent so much time with both couples, I realised some significant similarities. In each case, both individuals regardless of which couple I visited would interject, interpose, interrupt softly... intelligently drawing from their own experiences and something that I love... share their own experiences to match mine or empathise with what I am describing... In other words they are not sitting there trussed up in pretences... or holding in their weaknesses whilst attempting to project an illusion of pretences... 'Look this is my perfect world... how are you doing?'

For a start, they know I have a ‘bullshit-reading-radar'... so they do not underestimate my grasping what they are saying or presenting as honest. AND I am always encouraged to read between the lines.

In fact my fit friend Camilla is similar in this respect... She never underestimates me, (she is a Virgo, with the chiselled looks, and golden curls of Glen Close, in Fatal Attraction... Like Glen Close's public personality, Camilla has a similar strong independence with vitality, and enjoys her power over men!).... So questions such as ... 'What do you think, about this, why did this happen, what was it's source, what can be done, what is your interpretation, how do you think the situation will develop... ' is commonplace between us.

Responses such as ‘okay, that makes sense… I don’t understand, what made this occur? But why do you think/feel/believe this was the case?’

An endless line of intelligent enquiry, and truth finding... or soul searching, as well as perhaps a few weeks later, a reflected statement is considered again. They had actually thought about what I said, beyond the event when it occurred or when I presented it to them… Now I do this, but rarely do people return the gift of true listening by doing the same back… So what happened with such and such, or that situation you described, how did it end?

At the end of an evening, there is no polite yawning to remind you to leave… instead their graciousness matches their interest in your presence, and their knowledge of the fragility of human life to be so short lived, that they treat each meeting with the same feeling that this may be the last, so it is special… each time … every time.

When Adele moved with Henry, her last words to me were, ‘we have your room ready for you, anytime…you need to recharge your batteries.’

Georg Flegal 1566-1638 Painted this wine and bread painting...


The first couple are Henry and Adele ... the second couple are Sean and Beatriz (the former have two beautiful Labradors ... the second two beautiful daughters under 8 years old)... In both cases I find that I am able to actually be a happy listener ... it isn't down to me to find the interesting dialogue, or keep the conversation in movement... I am able to sit back and genuinely relax ... what I enjoy is that with both couples, I am almost the child and able to be myself, without any surface reflections of how I am presenting myself...

I mean imagine that you are having a meal with this couple that are so relaxed with each other, that fight happily, comfortably, and make up equally well ... that when you are with them, they are including you entirely, that they switch off their tv, stop what they are doing unless it is Henry, with his dark wit, his sly smile, his acceptance that 'she who must be obeyed, is a free-spirit that has the logic of an artist ... - his other half Adele... He often has to work from home, IT consultancy.

… Or Beatriz cooking like a diva in her kitchen ... she is Brazilian ... fiery, fast, intellectually challenging everyone in her path ... and funny without intention as she has this cute accent that makes me laugh. ... High pitched and direct, she can cut to the quick, hit the issue like batsman, striking hard!

Now, when I am with them here is the interesting thing... I spend more time with Sean when I visit Beatriz... I do yoga classes for him from time to time, and he is supple, agile and has fantastic legs ... He also looks like Captain Birdseye - well a young version.... We share an interest in the dynamics of the workplace, we can discuss, disseminate, dissect for hours some particular detail that we have hooked to... I adore being with them both, he is a hands-on father and he is fully involved with his children.... Beatrix is the fireball in their relationship and he guards her jealously - because he is a passionate soul, his way of explaining interesting subjects is so well executed that I am enthralled to just sit there and listen...

Now there are not many men who can engage my attention with their knowledge because more often, I am attracted to the silent types, strong resilient and thinkers, philosophical types with their own quiet radiance... But Sean is different, his energy matches mine ... he has this wicked little grin where his eyebrows raise and Beatrix loves his butt... She is always mentioning how fantastic his athletic legs are and she has every right to appreciate them!

Now Beatrix is someone who I met through work (she worked for me as one of my team of 8 auditors ... and someone I would loved to have developed further possibly into quality assurance, but it was not to be). She is exciting, in meetings she was fearlessly uncompromising in her diligence in wrenching open a weak fissure with her crowbar and then levering it open and exposing the weaknesses.

I would marvel at her complete lack of subtlety, her avoidance of diplomatic persuasiveness and most of all her clarity in disposing of the fool who dared to take her on... Now I have to tell you she made me laugh ... to the point where my sides would crack and I would have to sit down, because she was so natural, and like a bull in a proverbial china shop, she was driven! I had images of having to put my hand on her forehead to hold her back. ... Whilst she pawed the ground with her passionate Brazilian power! It was easy to live vicariously out of her sheer audacity and mental brilliance, I adore smart women, she is nobody's fool!

Sean ... well he is a master at persuasion; his voice is softly articulated, almost enticing and very elegant. He has a way of describing a situation so clearly that you are in the picture, and he is so forgiving so caring and so sympathetic that you recognise in him someone who is a tremendous manager. He explains himself like a teacher and mentor, and he can hold a conversation to keep me fixed in my chair like a student! In fact that pretty much explains our relationship, I am his pupil because despite his age (he is around 40) he is so intelligent that he keeps my attention span for a limitless time.

One evening he shared his entire liqueur cabinet contents ... whereby we sipped each one of his vast collection ... a teaspoon of each... feeling warm, relaxed ... he knew details about each delicious sip that it was amazing that he had taken the time to know what he was sipping...

He did this without any vanity, ego or need to show-off, he shared in the manner of a vineyard owner who wished you to experience each of his favourite wines with a special pride in the product quality... NOT in any way conceited or suggesting he is special for having acquired such depth of know-how!

My other friend Adele, is a hoot, she is creative in her photography, whereby her pictures of rural roads, winding, through hills, etc. are so beautiful crafted that her eye is faultless in framing a scene ... it is as if she knows exactly what to include in a shot and what should be excluded... She and I get excited about the same subjects!

Now every so often Henry (highly competent, capable and astute) will walk into the room we are in ... He will make some passing cryptic comment (he is one of those strong silent types) and then he will leave the room ... Now Adele and I look at each other ... I raise my left eyebrow, she raises both.. We take a minute to pause, then we realise he has just insulted us NOT superficially but to our core! He is chuckling away to himlself, he admits women are an alien race, he accepts his limitations with them, but he knows how to wind us up... Now we stare at each other, we both burst out laughing ... because we let him, he got away with it, and it took us a few minutes to grasp his deadly aim was accurate, and logic! That is his great weakness he is tooooo damned logical!

Well, we then start to giggle and once we get going it is ridiculous, I mean we both end up crying she has long brown hair usually to her waist silky and brown ... she like Beatriz is a healthy, well rounded curvaceous woman ... they are types that would have been the fantasy of many a Victorian....

Now when she starts to giggle, she has to take off her glasses and wipe a tear ... in the meantime I am practically on my back because my sides hurt so much. Adele is someone whose knowledge of plants, herbs, nutrition, homemaking, my Mother is the same ... but they beat me hands down... I have a wide range of knowledge about most subjects, but if you want to know gardening tips, what food contains, what herbs do she is a young version of my Mom!

For Adele and Henry, their special affinity with their dogs is only matched with the gracious supportive manner in which they treat each other....

One thing I really feel when I am around both of these couples is their ability to include me in their day to day processes ... they both treat me as if I am part of their family, and when they share their anecdotes it is done with such depth of honesty, brutal frankness and humbleness that I feel in awe of how they manage their relationships. If you want to see LOVE in ACTION be around two Taurians ... they are subtle, romantic, sweet, challenging, and down to earth... and most of all they do not PLAY GAMES!

They do not manipulate each other ... they do not have hidden agenda's and they do not treat each other as trophy's or worse still as carers, or providers... Another thing they do not it appears to me require any approval, or verification of love from each other.

They have it within them to know and recognise each other’s hidden language to the degree that it is wordless and when they look at each other, I can feel what they feel for each other.

Their homes are another thing ... they both share equal space in their homes, their goals are perfectly aligned to each others and the give and take is well rounded ... both have spaces to disappear and whether it is animals or children they treat each with the same sense of equal rearing ... there is no subdivisions of labour, or lack of respect for their other half in their demands... Sean lays the table.... Beatriz cooks, Sean opens the wine... Beatriz serves, Sean ensures the children eat, wash and go to bed ... their routines are executed efficiently and guests are part of this wonderful sharing process...

With Adele, she may sit back and (as she is always studying...) Henry will cook, he is a great chef ... he will tease her ... he asks whether wine is desired ... he chooses a wine ... she sets the table, he is involved with the choice of plates, glasses, and sauces.... Around them their dogs play a significant part. … They know each of their animals personal traits, they can read almost to a psychic point their beloved animal's personal unspoken language ... They will each address the needs of their animals with such quick responsiveness and take them everywhere they can ... this closeness is touching and endearing to be part of.

Sometimes when I am alone, I think of them and instantly their coupleness
makes me smile, a slow long smile. They work shoulder to shoulder for shared goals, they build deeper love, committed enduring affection and caring, and they never cut each other with sarcasm, or spite, they do not attack each other ingraciously in public, because their arguments are handled with maturity. I have other friends whose their private battles are weakly unempowering, meant to hurt, where winning is ALL.

These two couples handle each other by direct mature confrontation, assertive and due diligence, they know they are responsible for what happens to them both, and accountable for the results.

They are not perfect, but they do have a sensible desire to work things out to keep their partner in the loop, they have shared goals, and in their relationship they have open communication, nothing festers.

When I worked with Beatrix, she would suddenly look at me and say, ‘Oh that outfit is really lovely, you look beautiful…’ this easy going, sweet confident manner in her to be able to offer the gift of a complement just as sweetly as she accepted compliments was wonderful to me. Adele, is similar when she tells you that she thinks you are wearing the right colour, you know you can believe her, that her artistic eye has fully converted the subtle hues in your skin tone, the radiance that you project from your soul, and her mind can appreciate you artistically, not as a potential female threat.

Both of these couples teach me! That is rare... with them, each time we are together I am constantly learning, engaging in a harmonious circus of skills and power of transformation. You see if you do not know much about signs, Taurians are builders... they are architects...

If you know anything about me, then you know I love architects... they know their materials, and they know their music, their wines, their work dynamics, they know people.... When I want to dissect a person I may care about or be interested in to them, they are non-judgemental. They comprehend my relentless, tireless enquiry; my inner drive and they reach to me, take me into their inner sanctuary and respect my core beliefs.

Dialogue is always try this, taste that. Smell this ... and their descriptive narratives are full of verve, passion, and poetry... and colour!


Georg Flegal 1566-1638 Painted this opulent painting...


Taurians remind me of this quality of opulence, in this painting, their taste is perfect, luxury, in it's simplest form... comfort, quality, humility... even their humblest fare, presented simply whether it is bread, or mulled wine, or slow gin... leaves a mind-blowing exotic, earthy collision of variety, breadth of colour... blood red, burgundy, dark greens... Scents that make your mouth water...

'You must taste this', they say, whilst handling you a spoon with an interesting, colourful edible...

Then the music, they remember I like classical music with my meals that this is part of my nature, my need to feel calm, and they attend to my needs as if I am a special part of their life. Their choice in music enhances my mood, classical; I cannot eat with noisy jazz in the background, it irritates me… They seem to know exactly what I enjoy... it is wordless, I have never had to specify it, and they just seem to know. My mother is the same in this quality, if a song comes on that she knows I would love she stops everything, runs into the lounge, replays the video/dvd, and watches intently - then disappears back to stir her hotpot frenetically, Beatriz is the same.

The one thing that separates them from every other couple I know is that they remind me I suppose of my parents, they have a seductive, sensual quality about them, something that makes you feel you are in the company of naturalness, no ego’s needing massaging, no niggling questions between them of one or the other partner being in power… and both completely at ease with their environment, their chores, and their duty and responsibilities, to those they love, and value which like their material possessions are equally cherished with respect and humanness, you know flaws, imperfections, problems, issues, etc.

I love being around them, they created the words ambience, tranquillity... comfort....

With my sense of romance, had I been a female highway-woman… stealing from the carriages of the affluent, whilst riding into the night... Their homes would have been my haven... a place where one can feel a sense of belonging... and truly a home that looks just like that... not a show home, but a real place to relax... stretch your toes like a cat... and know there is a fireplace and hearth with room for you to rest... a warming brandy, perfect music being a key aspect... and smells from the kitchen where herbs, spices are overabundant...

Taurian's do not do cold clinical... They do flavour... abundance, luxury... richness... and most of all they do generous gentle friendship, one where you feel protected by their irrefutable strength and loyalty to you.

I wish you could bottle what they both have in abundance which is humble goodness ... wit and appreciation of the finer things ... whilst maintaining their down to earth grounded humility!

To be significant or to be insignificant...

Like a mirrored disco-ball, that can spin inside your mind and reflects all the pictures it sees it is only a reflection and any images that leave a lasting impression on this silvery sea-like lake are like when you can see the whole of your background in a single teardrop, you know when you get close up to a persons face and there in their tear drop you see everything. Also like when you look at a Cat’s eyeball and right in his iris you see yourself and all that is behind you, but what is being seen is not real nor can it be touched when it is in his cats eye orb.


Three Worlds by MC Escher...


So when one takes ownership of each aspect of one's activity one is still ‘acting’, out a role. Its significance is purely a measurement of your making, or of interpreation of others ego's and the Universal Energy does neither measure it nor judge it. So when I am carrying out any need or want it is neither about its significance to the Universal Energy it’s special-ness is only attributed by the ego. Whatever reasons are attributed to it as qualities are not real, and the importance of each ‘quality’ negative or positive is completely without impression on the Universal Energy.

The Universal Energy is neither impressed nor upset. Like when a baby watches movement it watches the movement and doesn't question what is in its infancy. If it is required to name that movement then it learns the name for it. Where that movement remains un-named it may still find some logic to name it, but even if it does not it may still understand that it is movement without searching for any reason for that movement.

This brings me to non-movement. If there is complete lack of movement and the baby were trapped in it's highchair without seeing anything move whatsoever in its space – would it have less to stimulate it? Perhaps it would make no difference since the Universal Energy must be the same, so whatever conditions or circumstances prevail the same is as it is. A leaf falling is no different to no leaf falling. Whatever conditions make the leaf fall also leaves others intact, and secure, such are the vagaries of Life.

If the leaf falls and a particular tribe accredit it more significance it makes no difference to the Universal Energy, the difference is that there is air and it surrounds the falling leaf, and it surrounds the non-falling leaf. The silence is the same, and the Universal Energy is the same.

Once we discover gravity we discover the illusion that falling is being defined by us and we are not seeing that it is not falling. So is any ONE dying they either are dead or alive, could their process of 'dying' equally just be a process of 'living', at a cell level, is there still 'Life'.... Anything other than this is not possible, if one is logical, but are such concepts really reliable? What is being called dying is not dying it is still living, if it is defined objectively as such, or the half empty cup, half full cup idea.

There is no colour to anything bad or evil it is not black or white or green or blue. Colour IS. So that goes for action and inaction. Both ARE. Both take effort, and can be effortless. Neither is good or bad or successful or unsuccessful in the context of Universal Energy. They are just action.

Artlessness and artfulness and artistry all are ART. To be affected, to affect and to be unaffected are also all living, to effect to be effective to be effete’ are all equally important and therefore not important. To find an answer you have to find FIND. To find FIND you have to stop finding, when you find FIND you know you have found it because you cannot name it just as you cannot say what colour the breeze is except that it seems to be the colour of everything behind it that you can see.

It is so vital to the answer is FIND that it is transparent but has force like a whirlwind nevertheless.

To contemplate and act and act to contemplate at the same time misses the moment when something should have been acting or contemplating so it is better to think or do nothing than just think about doing something. It should be so effortless that it is like sucking from a straw, somehow you know what to do and do not remember precisely how or when you first learnt to do it.

So when I am pitying myself for thinking I am not in some symmetry, I could also stand aside and objectively witness myself as ‘she’ (a body, an organism or organic machine) 'which' is an object (the body), containing a 'who' (soul, the mind, the heart) is in perfect (doing whatever it is supposed to do, stand, sit, breathe without falling over) balance, the ‘she’ who is reflecting shades around her of light, or dark, such a shadows, or bright sunlight, reacting to temperature, and conditions, and thinking and searching for answers and activity which covers the most basic functions, to elaborate ones such as biological ones that are carried out intuitively, suspending her seeing/feeling/knowing (like that part of her cognisance that blanks out a clock ticking) that the real miracles are always there.

It is incredible when you are meditating, because there is this lightness and an effortless state of what can feel like being comotosed,light headed and uplifted. everything becomes still and for a moment you have stilled the ceaseless voice that is in your heads.

The clock is not inside the mind but the sound maybe considered to be also its image. It is not in either case outside or inside the mind. However should it fall on the head during a thunderstorm the clock is the least part of the memory that is recalled.

… As for gravity – well no one ever writes about gravity when the clock falls on your head, one is apt to describe what may be an insignificant bump.

Friendly Persuasion

Crescent Moon by Montague Dawson


I have mentioned Gi, my friend before ... well if you have never seen the film 'Friendly Persuasion' then you should, because the key character is Gary Cooper ... a 3-time academy winner ... someone for whom less was more, and who was followed by the likes of Alan Ladd, Gregory Peck, Robert Mitchum, Charleton Heston and Clint Eastwood as your strong, silent (....but deadly if provoked) heroes. The essay below has been started stopped and restarted as I have about 3 on the go about people I admire at any one time! I capture a thought here and then, leave it and then later add to it.

Well, Gi is a scorpio, around 6ft 4" tall, with curly hair, and skin like porcelain, he is a family man with 2 tiny tots and he is a true highly ethical pure-hearted Buddhist from Shri Lanka. He is one of the most cultivated, cultured, elegant creatures I have ever laid eyes on. He like so many before considered me an enigma, because being complex, I was as I always am, on the outside periphery of the mundane looking in from seclusion's of artistry, and poetic creativity!

My gifted psychic Mother described him to me about a month before I met him ... she told me clearly that this beautiful Friend, someone who would be similar in personality, and that I would relate to because of his close similarities to my Father. She mentioned twice that he was coming into my life, she said he was soundly married with a beautiful exotic wife and two small boys, and that he was going to be like a sentinel or gentle guardian or angel of mercy for me for the rest of my life.

Despite his height (he fits a doorframe, with lean natural muscularity), and beautifully delicate features, he has this subtle aloofness that make him both intriguing and also entices you to want to know more about this charismatic man. When he listens to you, he never takes his eyes off yours, when you share some sad news his response is suddenly immediate, quite simply his sense of empathy is acute. He usually says softly, 'Oh no!' ... that is all — the sense you get is one of completely harnessing his inner recognition of pain, acknowledging yours or the person described and then responding with the sweetest sound of human agony, that of compassion.

I have another lovely Scorpio Friend, Wayne, he too is tall, dark and mysterious, his good looks sparkle him, when he smiles his broad, open grin! When you realise he is young but seems to have comprehension beyond his years, it takes you aback. He is so like Gi, that if I have ever needed a quick chat, he has made himself immediately available, quickly responds with intelligence, and is genuine, feeling the very words I put to him, as he owns them!

Compassion is always agonising, you can only feel compassion towards the news of pain, the act of pain, or the result of it ... so when you feel compassion it has to involve the human condition. Like me, he never needs to focus on words like 'trying to be honourable', like me Gi, and Wayne share this quality where they are naturally honourable.

I say this because I often come across individuals who just are not the real macoy... They meet me, make some obvious observations, and then use my language in an effort to align with me, instead of them being honest with me, they wait a month after some event that affects me occurs - then suddenly, their guilt emerges and it is, 'I was trying to be honest, I was trying to be honorable, I was trying to do the honourable thing, I believe in integrity...'

Yeah RIGHT! Actions that are any of these, statement - do not need to be stated, they are obvious and the fact that the person 'felt,' they needed to 'be this way', with me states more I think about who I am then who they are trying to be!

It is superficial and means to an end to them, they are trying to avoid some other perceived angst, whether it is confrontation, or difficulty, or bad reputation, or concern that I may lose respect for them, so now it is this effort to 'present basic facts', in such a way as to ensure my continued support. It is so lame, that I try to remain detached from their machinations, and of course because I am not drawn in, I am now the subject of their unfounded accusations.... because their need for approval is paramount, their need for attention is ALL, and they cannot subsist without being seen as 'the good person'. This need to please is more important than the need to be real, authentic and show stability in their character.

Neither has to try to be honest, like me each just is honest.... The point being that if you listen to either of them, the man doesn't have to say weakly - 'I am trying to be such and such ... the good guy, the nice person', like me neither is ‘trying, they JUST are! Thus, he just 'IS'... NOT 'BEING'. ... which requires some kind of mental struggle between whether you are or not... He, this individual man on his own terms - JUST IS!

This is what made our friendship instant, immediate and effortless, we were - just what we were! I never doubt who I am or what I am. If you know me, then it is the same, when people meet me after a long time, there is a warm embrace, no matter how many times we may have been demanding of each other, that first moment is as if a life-long association was renewed.

Whenever I see either of these men, it is the same, I have this really pleased look, I know within my heart, that no-one can deter them from their hard and fast, deeply imprinted impression of me, and that it is from a position of clarity, not obscurity. The Scorpio's I love and trust, do not have a blind faith in humanity the way that my Piscean friends do (who are kinder, emotional, and therefore invest into their emotions). The ones that I have an affinity with, see Humanity as I do, a troubled, but hopeful existence with dark and light influences from outside and within.

Life to me is like a busy port, comings and goings, different directions being mapped, each of us with some destination, not always being able to return.



Montague Dawson painted... another breathtaking Clipper, my favourite ships: this is a painting of the Thermopylae leaving Foochow.


When Gi, is visiting this country, he calls me — it doesn't matter what time he is free, we will meet up, it can be 10 in the evening, I am happy to go out in pyjamas and a dressing gown and feather mules. ... or Wellingtons ... and we talk, or rather I talk fast furiously, he laughs allot, and he listens intently, when he responds it is always sharper then cut glass ... when he makes a summary, I have only heard my father make similar observations with the same perspicuity ... well they are both Scorpios.

When Wayne was in New York, and I texted him to buy me a specific baseball cap, I did not care from where, as long as it had NY on it, and was pink! He supplied it without question, with the text 'Consider it done!'

I must say that the one of the loyalist signs to me forever and ever have been Scorpios... I personally have a deep affinity with Scorpios.

I have a friend called Mo, now I treat her like a sibling, because I met her when she was 18 and just developing her personality, and she is often in a situation where she is suffocated by other's either sabotaging her goals or perhaps misunderstanding her... Well for the longest time, if I ever shared a personal trust with her, when she responded with her observation it was delivered with the same level of innate comprehension that you would consider responsive in a much older woman, she has this wisdom when it comes to caring for those who she loves and quite frankly would sacrifice herself for. She retains somehow despite her personal experiences, a sweetness, kind, and deep with a frank candid truthful approach that makes you smile because she is funny, without spite but with a canny delivery!

Well, Gi is 'Friendly Persuasion' ... He is the person that can stand on his beliefs, empower others to do the same, and understand without any judgmental bias when one fails to do so. When he showed me photo of his family, I was completely taken away by the fact that his stunning wife was the 'Bollywood-goddess' my mother had clearly described, eyes that were deep, intelligent and sensitive. Elegant and a perfect match for him!

When I am particularly wicked, and playing the 'femme fatale' in some episode of my own delicious making, he is someone I can share my version of events with knowing that he will provoke me to analysing beyond the usual.

He will drop a suggestion into play that is delivered with the accuracy of the ace of spades ... onto the table when you are looking for it in your own hand!

From a female perspective he is the most easy man to fall in love with, when I joined the company where I met him, my fellow colleague a striking Librian girl called Cheryl, intelligent, a very capable blonde, told me that there was one man she had met that she was entirely sure that I should meet.

When I asked her why, she told me the following, 'He is your silent, strong type, and he is handsome with an intelligence that is deep, and thoughtful, you cannot take your eyes off him, and when I first spoke to you, you 'sounded' like him! he seemed to make the same observations, as you do, I thought immediately, you two are fated to be Friends!'

She was right, of course he is too humble to see himself in that way, but then I am pretty certain that he is Gary Cooper reborn!

No matter how wicked I am, Scorpios are the best allies to have around!

I have discovered that they comprehend the light and dark in each of us, without judging it!

Both Wayne and Gi, are also the most kindly individuals to be around.
I wish I could make a D.W.Griffiths (the LEO Hollywood, Consummate Director, in the 1920's)- SPLIT SEQUENCING of them, showing them on calls with me, or in person with me... it is remarkable, they are entirely unique yet there is such a strong similarity in how they are with ME!

Take Gi, I have never once heard him utter a negative slighted word about another. Sometimes, when I said something particularly acidic, always for effect of course, he would tap me on the knee, or shoulder and with a look of surprise because his thoughts are consistently directed at his highly ethical persistence at being true to his purpose, and he is very purposeful so he is very true to his ideals. ... He is a family man who is totally dedicated to his beautiful, gentle wife, and their children.

He is so serious, and adult, that when I share some personal anecdote, it is wonderful to hear him laugh so suddenly, so many times his laughter would make startle me, and then I would start to laugh as well, because I realised the full impact of my statement to him.

Now if you did not know that he and Wayne were not related you would think that young Wayne was his younger brother because he does the same motions! Wayne laughs so much, when I tell him my latest 'anecdote,' he has to take his glasses off and wipe his eyes! From the same film, there is a young son, well that could easily be Wayne, he has the same kind of innocence, yet he is also personable and has an ethical standpoint whereby he knows his mind and works towards a purpose. When he makes a mistake he recognises it and immediately attempts to redress it. I saw him sweat once, when I did an energising presentation for the Marriot Hotels primary blue-chip guests!

Prior to the event I had found out the names of the companies directors, by connecting with some of the girls who had decied to take my indoor cycling classes that I do for the Hotel. I asked them for some inside information, stuff that would be harmless but enough to make the key individuals jump! I chose the most popular workers, and then called them out and up to my stage, asking them once they were in the spotlight to explain such and such rumour. A trickle of laughter both nervous and startled - began to vibrate through the hall, then cheers as the company cute-jock, or the wittiest, most vibrant female manage, or the miserliest Finance Dir. known for penny pinching was targeted.

Once upon the stage, I promptly had them take off their shoes, line up and carry out some ambigious, almost ballerina type stretches... Wayne had specifically asked me to treat the Directors with respect, (somehow, conveniently, I forgot this entirely for the duration of their entrapment on stage) the 300 plus delegates cheered at the end, actually some of them climbed onto their chairs...

After being forced by me to do waist twists, toe touching, jumping up and down, and other unforgiving postures in the guise of stretching out their tensions and releasing them... The object of this final day session was to allow them to have cathartic output, an opportunity to de-stress following a week of heavy-going presentations.

As Wayne watched through the double doors, his eyes widened, suddenly he was surrounded by other members of the Hotel, just peering in at what looked like a party!

... About 5 minutes before my alloted time was up, I was laughing so much at how foolish everyone looked, including ME! and how we all on the stage had stopped setting an example as everyone was doing the okey cokey, with their backs to us, whilst I sat down on the side of the stage and just laughed my head off.

The Directors, suddenly realised that I had abandoned the stage, and when my laughter was heard across the mike, everyone in the audience started to stop and look over their shoulder, when they saw me sitting there laughing they also stopped wiggling, and en masse there was a room full of people laughing, and Directors sitting on their wealthy well-suited bottoms on the stage floor putting their shoes back on, hugging me and saying it was brill, one of the Directors handed me his business card....

Well Wayne perspired a single sweat bead - for the first time since I had met him over nearly 4 years ago.... He was all shiny, otherwise he is pretty cool! I smiled, 'Am I about to get fired?' He grinned nervously, 'No, I was responsible for you, therefore I am accountable!'

He meant this!

Gi, sees me as Scarlet O'Hara, constantly challenging the narrow (ignorant)'black and white' mindset of dinosaur authorities, with the same self determined need to achieve my goals, or desires, I see him as Gary Coop' ... Calmly letting me fall flat on my face, without judging me - but then stooping to hand me his arm to raise myself, elegantly, the Sentinel!

I always see situations with the depth, hue, and vast endless...colour of a prismatic rainbow. I never see or accept things on a 'black and white' basis, this to me is the limited, possibly narrow, even bigoted mind. I am repulsed - in fact I shudder when I am confronted with a mind that is incapable of anything more than monochromes, and living in a dialogue of negative perceptions.

He tells me, because he has complete faith in my ability to rise from whatever conflagration Life puts before us, or those we each create for myself and like any survivor: a phoenix, to soar.

When we are together it is rather like Marlene Deitrich ... in 'Destry Rides Again'....

I feel that he is the 'big' brother I never had.... I think that he is cut from the same cloth as my father so it is so easy and effortless to adore him, admire him and want to actually be him!

As for Wayne, although he is younger, he automatically treats me like I am one of his younger sisters too!

Whenever I mention to my Mother that either has called me, she sighs, and says, yes, I can see 'him' now... (She is able to describe ‘him’ exactly, a miracle if you have never experienced it).

Recently, I told both of them independently that that I was put on this earth for one reason, to be 'his' everlasting conscience-provoker, that no matter how many lives 'he' had to reincarnate into ... sooner or later 'he' found me, or vice verse ... that 'he' could never escape, and that I was always going to be there to help 'him' strategise 'himself' into a worse situation than 'he' started because quite frankly the truth is I consider 'him' possessively as my trusted knight, but I also feel compelled to test this theory, so I put 'him' in danger specifically to test 'his' mettle!

They reacted so similarly that it was really fascinating, they both did the same thing, they hesitated, they processed what they had just heard, did they say, 'Don't be silly, I am my own man, I belong to me, to my mother, to my wife, to my king and country.'... No… They both in different time zones, burst out laughing...

Neither stopped laughing for about 5 minutes! I should add also did not question this, (they have such Wisdom) but they did laugh nervously!


As platonic friends, our Friendship certainly has the same energy of sparkle, like Torville and Dean ... ice-skating the Bolero. ... With our thoughts electrifying: fire and ice....

When they hug you it is a bone-crushing but gentle hug that takes your breath away. Because they really did miss you! It is joyous, delivering complete safety and embracing all their ethics of spiritual comprehension because, despite silence, and the peace they seem to bring to chaos, when they are speaking softly to you ... saying ... 'hello YOU!'.... 'I really missed you!'... 'It is so GOOD to see you'...

AND you actually feel like you are being hugged by a big brother, and with the same sense of complete trust, and unquestionable loyalty, you know they are there shoulder to shoulder with you.

I think that because in different ways they both remind of my father's simple kind consideration to others, it is easy to be with them, quite simply by friendly persuasion.


Well, I started and now I have finished this piece...