Learning from those that hurt you.

Learning to forgive those who have hurt you,
Is an opportunity to practise unconditional love.
To not differentiate favour between enemies and friends,
Is to practise equanimity.
To avoid devisive speech and speak with only kind words,
Is to practise self control.
To attempt to understand the suffering of others,
Is an opportunity to practise empathy.
By standing up for the oppressed,
Is to practise courage.
And to avoid vexatious people and situations,
Is to be wise.

The Art of Delayed Gratification.

According to the great sage of the Twentieth Century,
Edward P. Bear,
It is not in the actual eating of the honey,
That the true pleasure is found.
It is in the anticipation of eating the honey.
Those moments before,
Where thoughts stray to,
What eating honey shall be like.
Thoughts that are the culmination of
All prior pleasant experiences of eating honey,
With the heightened expectations
Of what this latest honey experience,
May be like.

This is why when expectations are not met,
For example if the honey jar is empty,
It can be so disappointing.
We cease to feel the pleasant feelings of anticipation.
Likewise;
If we have too much choice,
We also miss out on this wonderful feeling.
Where honey is on tap for example,
There is no joy in anticipating eating honey.

Live in the moment and find joy?
Nup!
Discover the divine practice,
Of the Art of Delayed Gratification.
Practise temperance,
Be grateful,
And find healthy experiences to look forward to.
Honey in moderation.

Shame

Shame is a loss of 'Self':

Self confidence;
That you are capable of losing control,
And doing,
The appallingly unthinkable.

Self respect;
That you do not feel,
Deserving of respect from,
Anybody.

Self worth;
That your inability to remain,
In control of your actions,
Makes  you of lesser value.

How does one come back from that?

He's Crying

My infants class are restless on the carpet.
The maths lesson is going longer than their concetration span.
They fidget,
One picks furtively at the books on the shelf,
One has their socks in their mouth.
I know that it is time to wind it up,
Before the learning moment is lost.
Then it is his turn.
The child with too much going on at home.

His wide smile and over eagerness show,
That he is excited to be up next.
But he has not understood the question.
Before my eyes I watch him crumple.
His eyes look shocked and bewildered.
Everything droops like a flower deprived of rain.
Tears well in his eyes.

And I explain that it is all right.
(I want to hold him, but of course I can't.)
"We only learn from our mistakes," I say.
He tries to explain his confusion,
But he can't.
His eyes are leaking now,

And the other kids are ready to cut him, the weakest, down.
They have the blood lust.
I must save his face.
"Stop!"

All eyes are on me.
I have command of their attention.
I apologise for not phrasing the question better.
"It is just a misunderstanding.
I have confidence that you will get this 'perfectly right',
Now you understand," I say.
And he does.
" Sometimes we just can't choose when we will cry," I say.

Our philosophical discussion goes till lunchtime.

Some compartments of my life

I live my life within smallish compartments of time.
Each with its individual focus.
To which I give my fullest attention.

The compartment of writing this poem,
It contains the fantastical images,
That make metaphors,
And give me the words.
I let them out to play upon the page,
And make music in my ears.
These thoughts make me smile inwardly.

The compartment of sharing my thoughts and ideas,
With another human being,
Feeling the welcomeness of their company,
The sound of their unique voice,
The warmth of their presence,
And familiarity of their smell.
The solidarity of being so joined in his moment.
Makes my heart swell in the cavity of my chest.

The compartment of remembered moments.
This is where I recollect, I sit quietly,
And reflect upon recent happenings.
The times when I felt connected and comfortable.
The moments that fortified my heart with joy.
And of those individuals to whom I am connected.
This makes my soul sing and ache at the same time.
As I miss them.

Don't go willingly into the fading of the light.

Rage against the dying of the light.
Ignore the aches and creaks of bones.
Look out into each new day,
As if newly minted and full of possibility.
Reflect only on the lessons,
That past hardships have taught you.
And offer the knowledge of your experience.
Wear your wounds and scars like badges of honour.
Seek the companionship of those,
Who eagerly embrace the wonders,
Saved for us who still live.

Delayed Gratification

I mourn for the loss of delayed gratification.
When life was simple and choices few.
When waiting for the next ball or picnic races,
Was exciting.
But we can no longer wait and we needn't.
Our pace increases with the loss of each local service.
No longer doing the weekly shop in the local village.
Time is spent travelling the hundreds of kilometres
To the doctor, dentist even the supermarket.
Local sport, entertainment gone.
Wait for the next blockbuster movie to wend its way to the bush?
Download and watch,
Right now.
My back has moulded into the form,
Of my car's drivers seat.
I have a closer relationship with that, than my hiking boots.
It seems these devourers of time,
Give us less opportunity to enjoy,
The rapture of anticipation.

Joy

From the time,
We first emerge into the light,
At birth,
Until the time,
We lose that final battle,
Against the dying of the light,
There is but one real goal,
The pursuit of joy.

Catharsis of Truth

The gnawing at the soul,
The heaviness carried in the chest,
The horrible nausea which drives the bile of unspoken words,
Into gagging throats,
The unbearable strain on every joint,
As the burden of the bitter tasting poison,
Which flows,
Like a sepsis through blood,
And fouls entire bodies,
Entire nations,
All this,
Dissipates entirely,
And is lost within the realm of distant memory.
When people are given the opportunity to,
Speak their truth,
And be acknowledged.

Simone de Beauvoir

Simone and Jean-Paul,
What a pair,
Experiments in love,
Open relationships,
Personal freedom and rights,
But responsibility...
Where?

Well not to those third parties,
Broken hearted,
Or swinging from a rope.
Love is not an experiment,
It is the overwhelming need
to share your life, your dreams...
Your hopes.

To trust another human being,
And without fear,
Be yourself,
Them themselves.
And hold them....
Most dear.

And being with them is,
Infinitely better,
Than being without them.

Human Frailty

Each day new systems are created,
To control our lives.
To work or volunteer,
We need to maintain accreditation.
We must continue our professional development,
Assess risk,
And report, report, report.
Collect data on irrelevant minutiae,
That may not withstand statistical scrutiny.
We set up these monoliths of data,
To keep us safe.
But despite the protocols and the training,
The systems means nothing.
The human ego cannot stand the scrutiny.
It will not willingly reveal any fault or weakness,
Human beings lie or neglect to tell the truth.
All of these clever systems underestimate,
Human frailty.

Gratitude

Morris did not like the gift.
An expectation was not met.
His hopes were for something...
Different,
And better,
Than what he had received.
Disapointment was etched in the long lines of his face.
He could not look at his benefactor.
He was pressed.
He answered truthfully.
" It's just a stick."
So why is he chastised for not being thankful?
Gratitude cannot be demanded.
A gift ceases to be a gift,
If there is any expectation of gratitude.

The Salve

It is the paucity and precision,

Imagery and metaphor,

The musicality and lyricism,

Honesty and sentiment,

The mindful persistence,

Of well crafted, thought provoking words,

That make a poem,

A salve to the soul.

A True Friend

A true friend,
Doesn't need you, but delights in your company.
They are never jealous, they celebrate your successes.
They hurt when you hurt, and try their best to alleviate your pain.
Worry, but are content to know that you are happy.
They trust you to the extent that you are trustworthy.
Respect you to the extent that you deserve their respect.
They want you to be the best that you can be,
And are honest with you, even if the truth hurts.
A true friend will just think about you,
And feel a warm smile form inside their heart.

Time to think

Grant me time to think.
When all those small burdens that sat,
Quietly on my shoulders,
Have flown like butterflies out into the expanse of the world.

Grant me a space in nature to sit.
Where there are no distractions,
Or any ugliness to impede my view of this beautiful world.

Grant me comfortable weather.
With no tempests or extremes of temperature,
That restrict my opportunity to be outside.
To rejoice in solidarity with all things in my environment.

Grant me the companionship of a friend,
Who can sit quietly with me in communion,
And share with me this perfect moment in this time and this place.

Reality

Inescapable,
These truths.
My students,
With six or seven years life experience,
Discuss their choice,
If they could be granted one super power.
Amid the Ninjas, shape changers and flying fairies,
A sudden seriousness pervades the discussion.
And with this harbinger,
Comes a coldness that is palpable.
"I want to never get sick or die."
The momentary silence,
Is quickly filled.
"I am going to be a Ninja that can never die"
"Yes and I'm a shape changer that never dies as well."

Life's too short

Life's too short:
to sweat the small stuff,
to hold a grudge,
to live without purpose,
to not sing and dance,
to iron your undies,
to be with someone you don't love,
to be envious,
to covet possessions,
to not be kind,
to worry about what others think,
to be afraid,
to not enjoy your work,
to put up with abuse,
to stay in a rut,
to ignore the truth,
to settle for less,
to remain bitter and disappointed,
to feel vengeful,
to indulge in negativity...

to not love.

Snail - Mail and the excitement of gratification delayed.

What has happened to those dual emotions,
Excitment and anxiety,
That come of expectation,
As you await that return letter.
By 'snail mail'.

Now when we have a single thought,
Banal or brilliant,
Generous or mean spirited,
With one click,
We can share it.

And to not just one correspondent,
But to possibly millions.
(If the content is 'voyeur-worthy' enough.)

And to ease the anxiety,
Of the anticipation,
Of a reply,
One click.

So we dull the anxiety.
But what of the excitement?

Faux-pas

Faux-pas,
Hard to spell,
Easy to do.

It denotes innocence of intent,
And motivation misinterpreted.

So what to do when identified?
Ask pardon.
Make amends immediately.

What not to do?
Pass back the blame.
Act oblivious.

The Small Gestures

It is in the small gestures,
The daily acts of kindness,
The patience,
And selflessness.
The notice of the needs of another,
That we should be measured.

It is in true empathy,
That accepts,
That we are all flawed,
And do not mean,
Out of spite,
To pass on our suffering.

These are the acts,
which define our humanity.
.