Monthly Archives: August 2017

The Ooopside of Senior Communication

Couldn’t resist reblogging this. Chris has certainly nailed it.

bridgesburning

There is much merriment in the world of geriatric graceful aging.  First and foremost, before you even get close post sixty you would do well to establish a grainy gritty sense of humor.

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This is not the humor of your youth, or even middle age.  Like a fine wine that takes time to develop this is The Cadillac of humor, or I guess in this age, given the times, The Tesla of Humor.  Did I get that right?  That very question is becoming The Question of each and every day in some small way.  Did I get that right?  Does that sound right?  Good grief.

The object of your humor is nothing more than yourself.  Yup, better learn to laugh at yourself.  Start young.  It makes it easier in the dim lit of the top ten ( 70, 80, 90, 100).

A sound chuckle after an Oops achieves a…

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Synchronicity, Serendipity or Coincidence.

 

 

Synchron

 

Definition – the simultaneous occurrence of events which appear
significantly related but have no discernible causal connection.

I recently read a post from my dear friend/sister of choice Chris at Bridges Burning.  She wrote about serendipity and how three people, she in Ontario, my sister in the UK and me in New Zealand,  can connect over a comment on Skype.  The comment and the thoughts that preceded and followed it bounced around the world.  It went from Kitchener, Ontario to Wellington, New Zealand and then on to Oxford in the United Kingdom.

The definition of Serendipity is – the occurrence and development of events by
chance in a happy or beneficial way.

Serendipity and synchronicity are quite different words, often confused and should be used differently.  For instance, it would not have been correct for Chris to use synchronicity in her telling but it is correct when we both write about the same thing in a blog post.  Or when I send an email saying we should Skype only to find that she has sent the exact email to me.

How often we find this synchronicity.   I remember years ago when training to be a Life Coach.  I had read one day about Sedona in Arizona, the red rocks and the general feeling of spiritual well-being, the artists and healers who flock there, and so determined that I should go there in the not too distant future.  The course was conducted on a phone link of 2 hours each Monday evening.  Soon after I logged in I heard one of the other participants talking about a visit he had made to Sedona the previous year and how he was planning on returning the next year for the Sedona Film Festival.

My mind/imagination was captured by this place and then the next morning, in an email from my sister in Los Angeles, she said she thought the next time I visited we should go to Sedona as she had heard such great things about it.

Well didn’t that exactly meet the definition –  significantly related but have no discernible causal connection?

Recently, because it was the anniversary of the death of The Architect, I was thinking about him and about the firm he had established many years ago.  Later that day I was at the Hospice and learned that it is his old firm that will be doing the architectural work for the new hospice building. Serendipity at work again.

I say that there is no such thing as coincidence, but do I really believe that?  There is definitely synchronicity, serendipity and probably there is room for coincidence too.

The definition of Coincidence is – a striking occurrence of two or more events
at one time 
apparently by mere chance:

Several years ago I was in London for the weekend.  The elderly woman for whom I was playing companion went off to a wedding which left me free.  It just so happened that friends were visiting London from NZ and we decided to meet up.  The first evening we went around the corner from the apartment looking for some place to have a drink and decide where to eat.  Imagine my surprise when, on turning the corner I saw three friends, a couple from Auckland, NZ and one from Sydney, Australia.  I hadn’t seen any of these people for several years, so their being in London at just that particular weekend was certainly a coincidence.

And for you – stop for a moment and ask yourself, what coincidences have been happening in my life recently that I am not paying attention to? Where do I need to be seeing the truth? What is the Universe trying to tell me?

And consider this –

If there were no such thing as coincidence,
there would be no such word
Heron Carvic (born Geoffrey Rupert William Harris)
English actor writer. 
  1913 –  1980 

 

By the way – if you are an Agatha Christie fan, hop over to my other site to read a review on A Talent for Murder.

 

 

 

Who’s in Charge Here…..

I read this today and thought it’s really something all we Mums should read.  We are only trying to help our kids, but..

Waking up on the Wrong Side of 50

I love my Mom.  I know she has made mistakes about things, but I also know she has always had the best of intentions.  That took me about 50 years to figure out.  But….my Mom can also drive me crazy.  Because even though she has known me my entire life, she still does not understand me.  Or chooses not to understand me- I’m really not sure which……

She pet sat for us last month when we were on vacation.  She loves to go to the theater, we live in the city.  We needed someone to take care of the girls.  This was a win/win situation. And I really do appreciate the help.  Truly.

But…….

My Mom’s hobby is shopping.  Seriously.  Shopping.  She DVR’s shows on the shopping channels.  Mom only uses the internet is to look for things to buy.  The only reason she wishes she didn’t sell her big…

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The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari

Looking for inspiration, I came across this post from way back in 2011 shortly after I started on my blogging journey.
I reread the book and as usual, got more from it on second reading. It’s funny how often that happens.
I recognised that yes, in the years since I first read the book, I have been guilty at times of acquiring things; recently I have been disposing of many. But I have also been working on
* Nourishing relationships
* Cultivating self-discipline
* Developing joyful thoughts and very importantly
* Valuing time.

When we are young we think we have all the time in the world to visit, to read, to listen, to achieve but as we grow older we realise that time is a finite commodity and none of us know how much of it we have left.  So I am trying to enjoy the time I do have left by reading, learning and listening.

Here endeth today’s lesson. And if you haven’t already done so, I encourage you to read the book.

I choose how I will spend the rest of my life

“She told me the best time to plant
a tree was 40 years ago.

The second best time is today.
Don’t waste even one minute of your day”
Robin Sharma from
The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari.

You may know that I have been reading books and acquiring knowledge on Personal Development for many years (since I was a young wife and mother with time on my hands).  I run courses on the subject and I have a library of books from many of the greats in the field including Zig Ziglar, Wayne Dyer, Jack Canfield, Louise Hay, Debbie Ford, Bob Procter and Deepak Chopra.  Amongst the books I have read time and again, is this one by Robin Sharma.  

Book

The book tells the story of a lawyer, Julian Mantle, who is forced to confront his life choices after an almost fatal heart attack while appearing at a trial. …

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The Glorious 12th

Here in New Zealand, it is already August 12th  the official start of Britain’s 121-day-long grouse shooting season and always known as The Glorious 12th.

Red_Grouse_(May_2008)

According to The Telegraph “The sport, which always begins on August 12th each year, has been an integral part of the countryside calendar for decades, although having once been an aristocratic hobby, it’s increasingly at the centre of rows over animal cruelty and class.”

If you are interested you can read more about this bird here.

Many years ago as a new bride, I was called by my DYS (Dashing Young Scotsman) to go to Euston Station in London to pick up a brace of grouse that he had shot the day before.  So with father, we took off to do just that.

But I asked, what to do with the birds and was told by my DYS that they should be kept in a dark cupboard and hung up by their feet until the feet fell off, at which time they would be ready for plucking etc.

And would he be home by that time, I asked.  Oh yes, don’t worry about that was his reply.

So following instructions, we hung the birds in the cupboard under the stairs until DYS came home and dealt with them.  I can’t say that I enjoyed the resultant meal.  The bird was far too gamey for me, but this is yet another memory to put into my memory chest.

 

 

 

Steamer Trunk

“Circumstances or peoplecan take away yourmaterial possessions,
they can take away your money andthey can take away your health.
But no one can ever take away yourprecious memories.
So, don’t forget to make time and take theopportunities
to make memories every day.”
Judith Baxter  1938 –
Blogger, Mother, Grandmother, Sister and friend.

Note –  Photo of Red Grouse courtesy of Wikipedia

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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It’s a Small World Indeed.

I have written before about my friendship with blogging friends around the world and in particular, Chris at Bridges Burning with whom I have a Skype visit each Friday.  We talk about anything and everything and yesterday we talked about her latest post.  If you read it you will see that while doing her research into Orphan Annie, she mentioned that this ancestor had been born in Hackney in the East End of London.  Well, this is where I was born and brought up.  She knew the address of the children’s home into which Annie had been placed and I offered the help of my sister who lives in the UK and who visits Hackney regularly to meet her family members who still live there.

Marianne, my sister was happy to help and photos and messages were exchanged so another friendship was formed.

Yesterday, when talking about serendipity, as surely this was such a case, we talked about other such happenings.  I told her about a woman I met recently who had arrived from Montreal and had lived in the same suburb as we had many years earlier.  I told about the woman I spoke to on a bus going to Oxford some years ago.  She had a brother living in New Zealand.  Did I know Wellington?  Well, yes I live there.  Did I know Scots College? Well, yes my son and grandsons went there.  Her brother was the Headmaster of Scots.  And there have been many more such experiences.

But the strangest of all was some 30 years ago.  I had a friend with whom I worked.  One day she said she had a school friend, now living in Majorca, coming to visit.  Her friend was Scottish and Addison, my friend thought we should meet.  On the day, with DYS out at sport, the two women duly arrived for afternoon tea.  During the course of conversation, I was asked by Addison’s friend where my husband came from in Scotland.  I replied Dunoon to which her reply was she had lived in a small village beside Dunoon.  “Well, I said, it was really Kirn but it was such a small place that I never expect anyone to know of it”  Her response was that in fact, she came from Kirn.  Imagine my surprise then when I found out she was the daughter of the local dentist whose house my Father-in-Law had purchased when he remarried.

So imagine.  Two young girls meet at school in Colchester, England.  Then each goes their own way while keeping in touch.  One went to Majorca with her husband, the other to Wellington, New Zealand with hers,  Some 30 years later, two other women meet in Wellington and become friends.  The second woman is married to a Scotsman who comes from a small village on Scotland’s West Coast.  Years later the three women meet and surprise, surprise the woman from Majorca was born and bred in the same small village as the Scotsman and what’s more, lived in the house now being lived in by the Scotsman’s father.  Small world indeed.

“Friendship … is born at the moment when
one man says to another
“What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . .” 
― C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

 

 

An Exciting Find

“Make it a rule of life never to regret
and never to look back.
Regret is an appalling waste of energy;
you can’t build on it;
it’s only good for wallowing in.” 
― Katherine Mansfield, NZ short story writer
1888-1923.

Excitement in the Wellington City Libraries – Katherine Mansfield’s first published story discovered at our library.  Previously undiscovered letters and a story written by a young Katherine Mansfield were recently unearthed in the archives by a local author researching the famous writer.

The short story, His Little Friend by the 11-year-old Kathleen M Beauchamp (her given name) was published on the children’s graphic page of the New Zealand Graphic on 13 October 1900.  Up until now, it was believed that her first formally published work wasn’t printed until 1907, so this has got both local and international experts excited.

On a personal note, Katherine Mansfield is close to my heart.  My late love, the Architect, was on the Board of the Wellington Sculpture Trust.  One of the sculptures they commissioned was Woman of Words by Virginia King.   It was during an interview with the Board members that I reconnected with my late love.

Woman-of-Words_11-big

The sculpture stands in Midland Park along the main commercial thoroughfare in Wellington City.

We are told by the Trust “Women of Words celebrates the life and work of Katherine Mansfield. The stainless steel figurative work is entirely laser cut with quotations from Mansfield’s journals and short stories.  During the day the sculpture reflects the colour, movement and ambience of the surrounding area.
At night, illuminated from within, the work becomes a lantern of silhouetted words.”

The hair on the sculpture is made up of Mansfield’s shopping list.  Each of the Board members received a “hair”.  I have Tomatoes that was the Architect’s “hair”.

 

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And with those memories now brought up again I think how lucky I am to have them.

 

Note:  I have changed the date of the publishing of His Little Friend.
Originally I had mistakenly put 1990 – it should be 1900.
Mansfield. died in 1923