bygones and new beginnings

A couple of days ago someone posted this on his site:

“After 3 agonising years im finally goin to be reunited with my youngest boy after the ex came to her senses. Hes 7 now and im kinda scared but excited beyond belief. I guess after being abused by her husband for so long im not so bad afterall. Im really starting to think karma is a vengeful bitch that likes me for sum reason”.

I couldn’t let that be left undisputed. I really enjoy this guy’s being, mostly because there is something honest and logical in his predictable, yet utter, delightful madness. The kind you only find in creative men not afraid to display emotions, or speak of strong tangible impacts made on them… as long as what they say got a serious overdose of testosterone. I love that. I also see through it, when it’s not sincere.

I never comment on his postings. I think I would stand out in his crowd of 2224 friends, being too quirky, proper and reflected (or not impulsive enough, if you prefere) and different. But I sent a message saying:

“I have to say that at the end of the day, you may have a lot to say about the previous women in your life (well, they will always be in your life, though, because they mothered your children) you chose women who gave you very beautiful offspring”.

And the reply was short, yet told of a degree of appreciation to my opinion said in too many Words.

“Thank you ... wat a nice thing to say”

I decided quite some time ago not to hold grudges, life is too short for me to focus on petty things like that. I try to remember the whys and hows and the becauses. Sometimes you need to be mature enough to settle the score by expressing your willingness to declare matters for bygones be bygones. That’s it and that’s that.

You think it was a nice thing to say? Maybe, I meant it anyhow. The thing is: when everything is said and done, and you decide the last verbal lash has been thrown; every child deserves to know that at some point he/she was wanted, and that in the future there will be love and support, no matter what.

There isn’t much I appreciate more than when partners who split up eventually come to the point when they put dissensions aside and focus on making life easier on their children. I see kids who are torn every day, and it really isn’t pleasant. It is actually very hard.

I’m not only nice, you see. I also believe in spending time together with children, to talk polite when argue… especially when emotions rumble (and that really ticks most people off) and to ignore the flaws of others (I got too many myself to bother knowing them all).

An artist in Norway, Ole Paus, put it like this: “I am so brimful of errors that it's a shame. The Lord will have plenty more on his scribbling pad by the time I pass on. But he is probably more generous than his reputation suggests."

I think a lot of us should be grateful for that. More of us should probably pursue that kind of generosity. We would make life so much easier on ourselves and those we keep in our circle.

 

Telling the captivating tale.

The other day I spent some time sorting my digital photos on my laptop. I use an old, worn out Canon mirror reflex camera which I simply love. Only thing about it is I wish I had more lenses, but that is a minor drawback. It perpetuates the moments and the impacts I try to capture for the future.

I sorted the photos into folders, added comments and even added the photos taken with my mobile phone to the right folders. I had a good time sitting there, letting memories flood my mind. To capture the moment means that in the future you can be brought back to the past, remembering what life used to be like. (Could that be why so many these days find partners a LOT younger? Because they can’t hack reality and needs to hide in the past?)

I take different photos now than I did a few years back. I tend to capture people when they are not aware. I don’t take photos of people who pose or make funny faces. I like to think I capture more of their true self. I find my photos more beautiful now as well. I am not a great photographer, not by far, but I don’t behead every person I “shoot”.

As I was sorting the photos I came across a photo of a young, beautiful couple. They were newly married at the time, young and up to date. Looking at them brought back a lot of memories, not only of the two who posed holding arms around each other, but the situation as a whole. I was abroad at the time, very alone in a foreign country.

Since my recollection fails me at times, I was not certain if I had sent them the picture, so I looked up the man on facebook and sent him the photo in a message. He replied: “thank u for the pic , it's raise up a lot of memory .we sure look nice back then .”

It would have been great to have him in front of me then, as the reply made me wonder.

My personal opinion is that young people often are like blank canvases. Yes, youth is beautiful, not only because of the features, the boldness in showing your personality by the fashion you follow, the colours and the light mood which often beams from them. It is even more about the potential they hold in the mere notion of standing on the threshold of adult life. When you are young, yet old enough to make choices and form your own future. Nothing is too late; you got the world at your feet.

And yet, even though I think that, I can’t help but wondering why we don’t appreciate the looks of older people more. Especially here in the western world we go to quite some length to hide the trails of our lives, marked on our body and face.

When I was 18 I found 18-year old young men very attractive. Today, when I look at them, I can tell their potential, but they are not defined and show character. They don’t have the features yet, which I appreciate in a man’s look today. As for women I think it to be even more true.

It is like… the six powerful words by Ernest Hemingway.

Six powerful words
"Baby Shoes" by Ernest Hemingway

 

According to legend, Ernest Hemingway created the shortest short story ever told. While having lunch at New York City's famous Algonquin Round Table, Hemingway bragged that he could write a captivating tale -- complete with beginning, middle, and end -- in only six words.

His fellow writers refused to believe it, each betting $10 that he couldn't do it. Hemingway quickly scribbled six words down on a napkin and passed it around. As each writer read the napkin, they conceded he'd won. Those six words? "For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn."

While the anecdote may be apocryphal, whoever did write "Baby Shoes" has forced writers forever after to consider the economy of words. Today, the work has inspired countless six-word memoir and story competitions, proving that a story's brevity is no limit to its power.

(http://edition.cnn.com/2011/LIVING/01/16/mf.literature.hard.to.write/)

The older I become, the longer and more captivating the story “Baby shoes” gets. Same thing goes for people: The older they get the longer and more captivating their story is. And I find that absolutely beautiful.