Here in Milan, at the Santa Maria della Grazie church is one of Leonardo’s masterpieces. It has been restored and it is possible for you to go and see it, if you book far enough in advance or, if you are lucky on the day.
The Last Supper
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Tag Archives: Relationships
Colouring In – another of those Life Lessons
Remember when you were a kid and you had one of those colouring-in books? Page after page of outline drawings that usually came with a pack of colouring pencils.
The future’s bright, the future’s what colour?; It’s life, Jim, but not as we know it.
The future. Unless you have kids and are thinking of their future, the future must, inevitably, include you. And this makes it a very fragile thing that only exists in your own head.
For, if we are not in the future, then the future that you thought in your head doesn’t and will not exist.
Paralysed by the headlights of the oncoming car
I have often wondered what makes the rabbit or deer stay, motionless, when in the path of an oncoming car or vehicle at night.
Death by a thousand cuts
So, there you are. Someone does something that, in itself, is not so bad or so terrible or so hurtful. You have been relied upon for so many years to do something and then, because things are a little strained and they won’t ask for help, they go and do it themselves or, find someone else to do it.
And you don’t know until it has been done.
And it’s a shock because you didn’t realise that they were going to do that. And, maybe, a little angry. And, probably, somewhat hurt that they had done it and you would have been quite happy to do it.
Or maybe you wanted to be asked, even if you would have said ‘no’ or made it for some time that was going to be impossible for the other person. But you wanted that chance to say ‘no’ or make it difficult. And they have taken that away from you.
And you look at the result and you’re not impressed. You know that you would have done a far better job as you know the person and you know what they like.
The trouble is that, for whatever of the reasons that you wanted to be asked – to say ‘no’ or because you would have done it willingly and wanted to – it’s difficult to keep your voice and face from expressing some emotion and, thereby, letting the person know that they have ‘got one over on you’.
It’s another little cut. Each one is nothing. Even a hundred is nothing. But a thousand? With each you bleed a little more. After a thousand you are dead and, in the meantime, the death is agonisingly slow and painful.
Of course, it may be that they weren’t trying to do anything. Maybe they were just trying to make it easier. Maybe they had to do it as you had gone out and they didn’t know when they would see you again for this to be done?
Have you counted the cuts yet? Is it near a thousand? Wouldn’t it be better if they just made one fatal slash? Then it would be over and the pain would go away and you would be free of this life.
Oh, yes, and this is both of you in both situations. It’s not just the one side, of course. Intentional or not intentional – the result is the same.
And, if you’re on the receiving end, it hardens the heart a little more. It makes you more stubborn and I’m already as stubborn as they come.
Whilst, if you’re giving the small cut, it has two feelings. There is a feeling of giving back what you get. A small victory in this war of small attacks. In a war that, surely, is far too important to be taken so lightly. In a war that, in the end, gives no winner.
he other feeling is one of sorrow. That something was taken to be something it was not; that you couldn’t see that the thing would have been seen as such a bad thing. But, then, you knew really; it was pride that meant you could not ask; pride and stubbornness; pride, stubbornness and the desire to have at least one thing that you could “show” you didn’t need the other person for.
So, locked in your silences this is all you have to show – this demonstration of independence and strength.
Meanwhile, the bleeding continues……….
Acceptance
There are points in your life when you should fight. There are points when you should accept. It can be difficult to accept certain things. No one likes change, especially when change will mean stepping off the cliff, blindfolded – and you don’t even know if the wings will work or the parachute will open.
A moment of clarity – dissolves into nothing
I have been assuming that nothing could be done to get us out of this mess. And then, driving to work, I had one of those important ‘moment of clarity’ times, where, although not as perfect and as I would prefer, I could see how we would get out or, at least, survive.
Of course, I should know better. Whenever these things occur, they are followed, inevitably, by the moment when my heart sinks and the feeling in the pit of my stomach returns with a vengeance and my head spins out of control. I have never been very good at crises although, once I have a plan that is workable and achievable I am fine. It’s just the getting to that stage that I find so difficult.
And so it is. And so it will be. And so, following on from my post below, I see no hope. And yet, certain things will be better; more settled; more predictable; more stable. And there is a hope but a different one than before – different end results but, in some ways, better. And by my fingertips I hold on to that however cold the climate is right now. Well, at least it has stopped raining.
I was looking for a quotation on hope and trust
Barack Obama. I have noticed that the recurring word used for him is ‘hope’. The other one should be ‘trust’. And he must prove himself to be trustworthy. I just hope that those people who have this hope in him do not find their hope misplaced but I have a feeling that their expectations of him and from him are far greater than can be achieved – by him or anyone else. I hope that I am wrong.
I will NEVER be in this situation again.
Or, at least, because one cannot say never, not because I have let heart rule over head.
I am now counting the days down, almost the hours down, to the time when this particular thing will be sorted. It’s not that long, I suppose.
You’ve got to keep trying and be determined to suceed.
S & I agreed last night, you’ve got to try else what is the point?
So, we are both trying. It may get worse; it may get better; it may stay the same.
For me, it seems the dogs are a bit of a problem but not insurmountable. Come the end of January, I shall ask everyone I know in case they can help me. I don’t often ask for help as I am fiercely independent ever since I first left home at 18.
Actually, that was not the first time I left home. I left home several times. I had a small suitcase, brown and battered. I don’t think I ever had it from new but I have no idea where it came from unless it had been bought new when we went to Guernsey when I was about 5. I can imagine it was bought for that trip.
Anyway, the suitcase had been well used. I packed the suitcase with important items – a pair of trousers, a jumper, some biscuits and some orange squash. After all, I didn’t know how long I would be gone and I knew I would need sustenance and a change of clothes. I packed though the tears were rolling down my face; I packed with determination; I packed with courage – and fear, of course.
I left the house without saying goodbye, more like a thief than someone who lived there. I didn’t want any hysterics at my going – they would find out soon enough. I didn’t want any tears, except my own as I was the one who was hurting, not them.
We lived in the countryside, in a small village. I walked down the driveway and onto the road, turning right. The hill seemed very steep and very long. I don’t remember looking back as I climbed that hill but I probably did, fearing that someone would come after me – hoping that someone would come after me so that I could prove to them that I did not need them.
I reached the top of the hill and must have looked back before turning the corner.
Soon after I came to the crossroads – to the left was the road to the church, the right to the main road, straight on was unknown.
Fearful of the consequences of continuing what I was doing; angry at the world for treating me like this; determined that, one day, ‘it would all be different’, I turned round and went home. I was about 7. I was quite a stubborn barsteward even then!