Category Archives: Better as a Husband

when things happen with me a Jo

Better Ideas in THE TANK

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My wife and I are both very communicative – in other words we talk a lot – we; mainly me. She reckons most of the time she talks I’m not listening anyway.

I loved a little anecdote I read about that on Facebook the other day which said “The best person to tell all your secrets to is your Husband – he won’t tell anyone because he wasn’t listening in the first place” – oh, how terribly so true!

But on the rare occasion we are listening and it ends in an argument is because:

  1. We weren’t actually listening and misunderstood.
  2. Our wife was breaking the cardinal rule – “You can tell me what to do, or how to do it, but not both.”
  3. We actually don’t listen, don’t want to listen – we just want to give advice and fix the problem.34ef47b7011b1b758e89e1aa164b1220--social-networks-social-media-marketing
  4. It’s about the kids and we are on the wrong side (e.g. whoever’s side we are on – with the kids or against them, it is the wrong side!)
  5. It is about in-laws (see above point 4)
  6. One of their girlfriends (see above point 4 and 5)
  7. We are sharing ideas that have two different aspects:
    1. It is my idea and it is the best idea in the world
    2. It is your idea which is dumb and cost too much

It is the last point which I think is the most important. We all have about a million ideas a day – most we don’t share as the wife is sick of the next ‘sure thing get rich quick scheme’ – so you keep most of them to yourself – we do actually do a Google search and realise most of our brilliant ideas were discovered decades ago – but we live and dream in hope.

But…. maybe one of these ideas which can be about anything could be THE ONE. How do we get to talk about it and not end up in a “You shut up, No you shut up” never-ending time loop.

The answer is having THE TANK.

My wife and I love to drive and chat – the old adage, it is not the destination but the journey is true for us and we spend kilometre after kilometre discussing our lives, our families, our work and the danger subject of our ideas (which includes comments on existing situations, people, problems or plans). The kilometres would disappear as we chatted about everything – OR – each centimetre would seem like a kilometre for endless hours after the ‘ideas discussion’ degenerated into the argument about ….. well, most times, when you look back you can’t figure out what the argument was about.

So we invented THE TANK.tankhedt

Any idea, any comment, any criticism, and accolade can go in THE TANK.

It is a place where you put them all to ferment, to rest, to age, to mingle with other ideas and you see what happens. Okay, this doesn’t sound like the epiphany moment where all things are solved but it is the place where they can be.

My wife and I will often start a conversation with “Tank, Tank what about we……”

Initially it was a lot of training through the formalities before we have gotten to the “Tank, Tank” introduction which initially started out (tentatively) through various conversations such as:

“I am going to go out and start looking a new cars this afternoon…. just putting that in The Tank?”

 

“I’m think so-and-so is a bloody idiot the way they spoke to me and are wrong…. Just in The Tank – what do you thing…. in The Tank.”

 

“Hey, in The Tank, I was thinking…..”

In addition it was underpinned by a few rules (which we started with and they splashed into The Tank):

  1. Thou shall not judge – judging is the hand break to ideas
  2. Thou shall not comment on someone else’s idea until they ask you to – negative comments stifle ideas
  3. Thou shall not edit – be allowed to get it all out, tidy up later
  4. Thou shall not execute – no detail, go big and broad first; the doing is later
  5. Thou shall not worry – it hasn’t happened yet – its an idea
  6. Thou shall not look backwards – learn from the past but don’t relive it
  7. Thou shall not lose focus – stay focused on the problem (or if you are splashing out – splash out big!)
  8. Thou shall not sap energy – don’t be the Six-Percenter
  9. Write it down – a quick note saves the moment

It is amazing how conversations which were started with the wrong phrase, sentence, word, look which you can feel are increasing your blood pressure by the millisecond are flicked off in both the head and heart when it is concluded with “….. I just thought I’d put that in The Tank”

Okay, it sounds silly and we have all attempted the ‘password’ or ‘key phrase’ to avert relationship disaster which, in the moment when it was most needed and uttered, has actually been the trigger to degenerate the situation beyond what the password/key phrase was supposed to prevent!

However, The Tank is about ideas, solutions, wild suggestions, imagination, fantasy and WildIdeas_Mainimgthat itch that won’t go away, which a lot of the time you wouldn’t say allowed because of its absurdity – but, in The Tank they get time to rest, to grow, to mix with other ideas… of course a lot of things just drown in The Tank – but, sometimes, actually more often than you would image, that piece of gold, that synergy of ideas and thought, that win-win solution, gently (or sometimes popping like a submarine rescue buoy) rise to the surface.

I suppose it is the ‘business brainstorming model for couples’ where the end result is not free cakes, coffee and a 45 minute session of the Boss telling you what is going to happen, but about making your individual life, your relationship, not only more peaceful, but more productive and occasionally mind bogglingly creative.

Sometimes being a better man is in accepting that the questions you are asking yourself all the time, privately, in your head may find a place to live in The Tank – you just have to be prepared to dive in.

 

Better at Chick Flicks

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I am a bit of a movie buff and have a rather man tendency to watch war movies, science fiction and anything that doesn’t involve a teenage love story, or for that matter any sort of love story – period movies set in old manors are also right out – animated moviesScreen Shot 2017-07-18 at 9.00.26 AM are banned (I confess never having watched Frozen!).

My wonderful wife also loves movies, but, these mainly consist of the ‘chick flick’ genre – please kill me!

Just recently we have got Netflix.

In the furtherance of a happy marriage we have agreed that on some occasions we will have ‘the wife’s choice’ as the evening – or as we are retired, sometimes the afternoon movie.

On wife’s choice day I usually sit down with an internal moan (often not so internal) and fortify myself with some sort of alcoholic beverage to dull the pain of the impending love triangle, family tragedy or young love coming to maturity….

I might have got a few recent surprises….

NOTE:  I am NOT now nor will I ever be a chick flick devotee but sometimes…. just sometimes….

The other day we watched a movie called ‘Radio’ – yeah, I know, never heard of it.  To cut a nice story short it is almost not a chick flick as it is about sport and the adoption of a young local man by the team – bloody hell, I got a bit teary in the first 10 minutes and knew this was going to be a test of sarcasm – e.g. ‘that’s not very realistic’ ‘ people don’t really behave like that’ etc etc

However, those blurts of disgust never came as this story, this chick flick was actually a true story and constantly demonstrated being nice always beats not being nice – yeah it was a totally unrealistic chick flick with a happy ending – BUT, it was a true story and at the end (just to tear the final remnants of your heart our through your chest) they introduce you to the real people the movie was about….

Screen Shot 2017-07-18 at 9.01.04 AMWill I sit down and watch a chick flick versus something involving automatic weapons or laser canons…. unlikely.  But, just sometimes I may think that a movie about the human spirit can be watched without drinking spirits, change me just a little, for the better, and perhaps make me realise that there are a lot of better men, good men, out there that makes my continued quest to be a better man worth every teary tissue moment sitting next to my wonderful wife.

PS:  Okay I followed up ‘Radio’ with ‘Lion’ – but that’s another story about the terrible waste of using an entire box of tissues in an hour!

Better Dancers – in Death, Thank God We Can’t Hear the Music

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I haven’t written a post for a while as I have been busy – not with life, as that is always there, and always gets in the way.  I have been busy with a support group called the 801 Group.

It is a support group for Police in South Australia, their family, friends and colleagues who suffer from PTSD, stress, anxiety and depression.  I have written a few posts about it in the past.

The group started about 18 months ago with a few of us getting together and having a coffee and a chat.  We went into the wider world and started a Facebook Page which slowly grew although attendance at the meetings waxed and waned but rarely into double figures.

During those meetings we shared horrible, tragic, frightening stories; and we looked in each others eyes and knew we were, finally understood.  We supported each other, received a few phone calls from others (a lot actually, if you count Facebook personal messages) who just could not make it to the meetings.  Most couldn’t make it to the meetings because they were psychologically too damaged, to embarrassed or no one else knew they were suffering (many were taking annual leave instead of telling anyone of there battles).

I was one of the founders of the group and did it because I didn’t want any more cops to have nowhere to go.  I didn’t want anymore cops to suicide – if just hurt my heart too much (even when I didn’t know them).

Our little group (ignored by the South Australia Police who sent us a nice letter saying they acknowledged we existed but they had their own stuff – and the Police Association of South Australia who printed a letter from us in their Journal and then said they wouldn’t give us their ‘imprimatur’ – if I here that fucking word one more time I will scream – plus PASA had their own stuff, their own long game, wait and see we are talking to the Government….. blah, blah, fucking blah!)…. meanwhile our little group met and did what we could for each other.

Out little Facebook page wandered along, picking up a member or two – we actually celebrated a few days ago as we had reach 250 members…

Then it happened again.  A well liked, active, dedicated young cop killed himself.

I have to say it.  Every time, every-fucking-time, it happens, I cry.

I retired 5 months ago, it’s not my problem, I don’t want to go on a crusade, I don’t want to fight ‘city hall’, I want a peaceful life in the country…..

But….  I cry, every-fucking-time the blue ribbon appears on the Facebook page, every time I hear the story when they ring me (again!) about another Cop who ‘topped’ themselves, I cry.

We lost Sharynne Grant such a short time ago.

We lost Ashley Meeks a few days ago.

I think PASA and SAPOL lost their humanity a lot longer ago.

And now it begins.

The media (the fucking Merchants of Misery) go into a frenzy, not to report on a tragedy but to get an angle that no one else has, so they can sell it and get ratings, page clicks or sell papers…..

SAPOL takes the company line and have a really important ‘Commissioner’s Enquiry’ for a few months, form a new project team to do another project, introduce a new support scheme…..

PASA blames low numbers, they blame SAPOL, they blame the government (but not to much) they have a new enquiry, fuck that we’ll have a national enquiry; beat that little State SAPOL, we have the Police Federation of Australia – hear that…. National Enquiry mate, fucking National..!!!

And they dance and they talk, and they promise, and recommend, and sell and sell and sell.  And they sell that they understand and they will fix it and they are on our side….

And they sell the message, the party line, the government policy, the non-committal heartfelt sentiments of our caring leader – and they sell and they sell ……

And when the dust settles and the sales are over, we look and realise, the only thing that has been sold, is us – we have been sold out!

And a few days ago the blue ribbon started to appear again.  I cried before I even knew who it was even before I logged in – not again, not fucking again!

So I sat at my little desk, to check how the 801 Facebook page was going – how my mates were going, and thought I better get a meeting together (as they had stopped a few months ago because there wasn’t enough of us to organise them…), I flicked on the screen, logged on and found that 2700 people had joined our site in 48 hours.

Yes, 2700 (2953 total membership at its peak to be exact).

I cried.  I was overwhelmed.  I learned of Ashley Meeks (who I did know) and I thought of him now dead, seeing his mates rally.

But the rally was one of pain, of fucking heartbreak and the sadness that hurts your heart like nothing else.

And I read the posts and I cried, most of the time.

Hundreds, no thousands, in the Police family were pouring their hearts out, disclosing horror, upon horror, upon horror – some people had to leave the site (and I get it – I would be gone if I didn’t run it and have a few backing me up!) because it hurt them too much, or reminded them to much, just reading the stories.

And there was anger, and sadness and the loudest rally cry I had heard in the Police for years….. a call from the heart, a call to stop this horror….

….But, within the rally cry I started to notice something else, not from the rallying members, but from somewhere else….

I started hearing in the background, the faintest sound of music….. and slowly, but surely, the music got louder, until, at exactly the right cue, the fucking bullshit dancers (some were even marienettes this time – a nice twist!) appeared….  and started dancing the same old fucking dance again….

And I cried.

I shut down my Facebook page, I turned off my phone, said “Fuck ’em” and hugged my wife, who said “I love you, are you going to be okay”  and I said “Yeah, it was never me I was worried about” and she said “Yeah, I know”.

So, I wrote this.  On my blog – for me, for Ash and Sharynne – because even though I only personally knew one of them…. I miss both of them so badly…

I have heard the call for being positive, for not slagging SAPOL or PASA or the GOVERNMENT, for working collaboratively, for sitting around in bean bags and singing kumbaya and talking about our feelings…..

… and all the time I hear the music and see the dancers dancing ….

I’m going to bed.  Hopefully I won’t dream.

Better at Walking Together

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Walking 10 IMG_8709 IMG_8712 IMG_8713 IMG_8719 IMG_8721 IMG_8710 IMG_8714 IMG_8729 IMG_8708 IMG_8711I was walking along the other day with my wife, holding hands, just walking. We were walking side by side and just out shopping – well, my wife was shopping, I was going along to be with her, because I wanted to.

Yes, we are holidaying in Bali at the moment, we love it, and we love walking around and looking at ‘stuff’. We also like doing it together.

This is when I noticed, we are somewhat in the minority…..

Most couples, even on holidays, seem to be on a quest.

The husbands (or is partner now the only acceptable term) are striving ahead, with the wife (partner!) dutifully following the mandatory 1 metre behind – OR, the wife is eagerly strutting towards the next shop and the husband is dragging his arse the mandatory 2 metres of shitted off, following you around, want a beer more than being here, look on his face and droop in his gait…

Okay, so why are you even out and about together. Just go separately, or is the habitual obligation of your marriage (or partnership) something you have to demonstrate publicly to make us all suffer along with you.

I understand sometimes ‘the man’ feels the obligation to walk in front with the ‘I’m not a tourist and have been here heaps of times before and know what I’m doing and where I’m going’ look on his face in a modern attempt at the cave man confidence which must always be displayed in foreign situations; but, does it really apply to doing something that is supposedly, something BOTH of you WANT to do TOGETHER.

My wife and I (reminds me as I type that the first time you say that at you wedding – “On behalf of my wife and I” – I’ve had a bit of practice at that!) go together because we want to be together, we want to walk side by side, we want to hold hands – it’s not always a journey, sometimes its just walking around. (Just as a note, we hold hands everywhere we go – life is too short not to hold hands!)

And… then there are times we don’t hold hands. That is when we are not together. Sometimes I go by myself and sometimes she does – because we want to and because the other one understands.

I know the moan of ‘having to go shopping with the wife’ situation. Surely, if it is your wife there is no HAVE to. Sometimes I do things that are not things I think are important, or I would like to do (like just about any form of shopping!) but I go because I want to be with my wife, and she may want me to come (the reasons behind this actually still remain a mystery to me – although the occurrence of this is pretty rare, my wife is smart!), so I am not actually doing it for me, there is nothing in it for me…. but, there is, it is making my wife happy.

This reminds me of something I heard/read/imagined about the father talking to his future son-in-law and telling him that ‘marriage wasn’t for him’. Of course the future son-in-law was worried that permission to marry the daughter was going to get knocked back – but, the father went on to say, it is not for you, it is for the other person; you change your life from doing things for yourself to doing things, everything, for another person because you now hold them more important than you. Of course this is a great theory, but, we as humans have a great trait of taking advantage of situations. That’s where the ultimate gift of marriage, or a relationship, or a lot of other things in life, comes down to one thing, TRUST. (I just remembered I wrote about this once before using the Indonesian interpretation and punctuation of the words Anda and saya. Click here to read it)

I put my wife first. Oh, I catch myself a thousand times a day NOT doing that, but, I actually do catch myself. My wife puts me first. We trust each other.

We walk along holding hands, we walk along together, because we want to be together. We remind each other of it each day, by holding hands, by walking side by side, neither following nor leading, both wanting to be there. And, when that is not working out, we catch ourselves, we wait for the other one to catch up, we walf faster to catch up, we walk back and get them, we walk back and get them and carry them if we have to. And, sometimes, walking together can actually be taking a different route so that we end up in the same destination, then we share our stories, tell of our trip, when we are back together.

I sometimes think that being a better man is understanding that some of the simplest things in life are the most important, like going for a walk and holding hands.

PS:  I went out to get some photographs in Ubud, Bali.  I sat in a little cafe (okay, it was a bar!) and had a coffee (okay, I drank 4 beers!) and took all these photographs in an hour – I did not see one (Yes, you read right – NOT ONE!) couple holding hands.  I am going to get a T-Shirt made which reads “At least while you are on holidays HOLD HANDS”.

Better at Father’s Day

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I thought I should write something for Father’s Day.

Firstly, what is Father’s Day – is it a day we celebrate being fathers or a day we are celebrated as being fathers.  What is the difference.  I think it is the difference between wanting to be recognised as being a father and being grateful for being a father.

I think I am the latter.Screen Shot 2015-09-06 at 12.31.26

I don’t know if it is because I am getting older (and hopefully wiser) that I spend a lot more time being grateful for what I have as opposed to lamenting and complaining about what I don’t have.

I have 5 children; three of my own and 2 step children.  I reckon I’m lucky.  Of course there are days when I am plotting their deaths and I am sure there are days when they are actually in the process of having me assassinated; but, over all it is a privilege to have children (assassination and death plots aside!).  Not only is it a privilege to have children, it is a privilege to have children and live in Australia, where they have a pretty reasonable chance of growing up happy – where in a lot of other places in the world the chances of them even growing up are pretty slim.

I suppose as a father my main responsibility is to provide a sense of hope that although the world may at times be a pretty nasty and unfair place, there is a good chance of finding happiness.

I also think that the saying that we are not as smart as our children until they are at least 25 is as equally valid as realising that they are just doing what we did when we were young but we don’t recognise it, well basically ever, and when we do, we try to stop them.  I keep asking myself the question, Why?  And, I actually can’t think of a valid reason.  Yes, we may do this when they are younger to stop them putting a knife in the powerpoint or walking in front of traffic, but, do we have a right, or even a misplaced sense of responsibility in doing this when they are teenager, young adults, or even the 20+ adults that just wont leave home!

IScreen Shot 2015-09-06 at 12.34.06f you would have asked me this question a few years ago, or perhaps even a few months ago, I would have raved on about discipline, parental responsibility, experience, etc etc….  well, basically all the stuff my parents said to me.  But, today, not just because it’s father’s day, but today, after doing a reasonable job of being the benevolent family dictator, without the benevolence, I have realised that my responsibility as a father is not just discipline, home defence, no one sitting in my favourite chair, sitting at the head of the table and mowing the law.
My job is safety.

Not the home defence safety, not the child proof lock of the medicine cabinet safety, not the boyfriend/girlfriend assessment safety, not the ‘your grounded’ safety….  but the safety that involves being someone your children can trust.

It involves different safety codes that don’t involve a hi-Viz vest and an iron fist.

  • The safety to tell the truth
  • The safety to ask questions
  • The safety to express as opinion
  • The safety to make mistakes
  • The safety to always call home home
  • The safety of a hug
  • The safety of unconditional love
  • The safety of asking advice and ignoring it
  • The safety of leading their life their way
  • The safety of knowing Mum and Dad, Step Mum and Step Dad, will be proud of me for being me
  • The safety of forgiveness

I have decided that Father’s Day is not about being worshiped with a coffee cup saying “Worlds Greatest Dad”, but a day for me, the father, to be grateful that with all my faults, I still get to feel that pang in my chest when I think of my children, and despite everything past and all things future, I know that being a Father is a privilege that provides no greater love in your life.

Better Two Funerals and a Letter

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I recently went to two funerals – two days in a row!2009-06-09 Me Jo Short Hol 066

I had only heard about each funeral in the morning and changed my day to go to each.  I cancelled my appointments and rescheduled – well, everything I had to do – all the necessary parts of life, that can’t wait, on these days, just had to wait…

Both were Mums. One left this world after a long life and one left this world with a long life
unspent.

The mourners were the family and close friends.  The absent, were the acquaintances, the work colleagues and all the other people that we run around filling our lives with.
I was not there as a part of the families – I was not there as a life long close friend – I was not there for the Mums who we were mourning – I was there for the living.

I was there because the living need the living, to keep them living, when they mourn the dead.  It made me sad.

But, I was prouder than I was sadder.  I was there if needed.  Mostly I was there.

I drove home and watched the world of Mums, and Dads, and friends, and work colleagues, and acquaintances, all still running around filling their lives, because they were the living – it is a world of the living.

This is not the first time I have noticed that the living don’t notice that they are living.  They mourn the dead and then go to the shops.

As we get older there are less of us living who we know: fewer who were with us from the start; until eventually we may be lucky, or unlucky enough to be the last one that you really know – we are there sitting in our chair, watching ‘Days of Our Lives’, pissing our pants and waiting for our relatives to visit who never seem to come – at what stage do we become irrelevant as part of the living but not quiet yet one of the dead.  Does our funeral signify a relief to the living, and perhaps to ourselves – or is it just another occasion for the living to be too busy to attend.

Two funerals are not necessarily better than one.

At one of the funerals the poem “The Dash’ by Linda Ellis was read : which in part says:

….. he noted that first came the date of birth

and spoke the following date with tears,

but he said what mattered most of all

was the dash between the years…..

Screen Shot 2015-08-13 at 17.12.14So even in death, it really is the living that matter.  It probably goes as far to say that it doesn’t really matter how you die, but how you live.  Yeah, it is tragic and sad when someone goes before their time, but when you go, surely that is your time.  It always surprises me, when we are surprised at death, as really, and literally, it is inevitable for all of us – it is just the timing and the length and quality of the dash that are different.

Not going to funerals is however a different thing to not going to just about anything else.  We can visit lots and lots after the first date, and be involved lots of times during the ‘dash’.  But after the second date, the celebration of the second date, that date has nothing after it for the person who’s name is above those dates and the dash.  I suppose it may well not matter because they will never know – only we, the living will.

Two funerals are not necessarily better than one – but one funeral is inevitable for us all, we must attend ; no one else is on the compulsory list, no one else who is a part of the living are required.

Perhaps I go to funerals because it tells me a lot about the living – it tells me that my ‘dash’ is still there and there is yet one date to be written – and as with all, the length of the dash in undetermined, although always inevitable; but, most of all the quality of the dash can be changed in an instant – good or bad.

So, I will attend funerals to celebrate the insertion of the second date for someone else, and the continuation of my ‘dash’.  I may very well shed a tear for the Mum of my friend and the wife of my friend and the friend of my friend.  I may shed that tear for the dead and the living.

I read the ‘memorial card’ – the last letter written for the dead by the living.  The photo and verse that they choose to leave this world with.  That last memento of their ‘dash’ you get to hold in your hand.  And, then they are gone.  They live nowhere else other than in our thoughts – and perhaps more importantly in our deeds – deeds done in their name: deeds such as kindness, charity, fairness, forgiveness and love.  Deeds that start with “what would Mum/Dad/Wife/Husband/Child/Friend do, what would they be proud of me for….”

DSCN2413So, the second date is inserted for another, and the funeral has been, their final letter written and I am on my way to the shops.  I do the stuff that the living do.

I go home where I live my ‘dash’ and collect my mail on the way to the door.

There’s a letter.  Not junk mail, not bills, not a hastily written card for my birthday, not a personalised “To The Householder” envelope, but…. a letter.

It was from my friend, who is part of the living.

I had two funerals and a letter.  They were two long days that now they are over, seem too short.

I read my funeral cards and read my letter – two from the dead and one from the living.  All moments of time I can hold in my hand.

I’ll keep rescheduling and leave the living for a morning or an afternoon to go to farewell the dead.  It is the last date after the dash; it is their last letter that we get to hold.

I’ll also keep writing letters to the living; then when my second date is inserted they can keep that moment to remember our dash.

 

 

 

Better in the Glory Years

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Screen Shot 2015-07-07 at 11.57.13What is it with old people wanting to either rule the world or tell me about their latest operation.

As I have said before, the ailments of the elderly are often serious but rarely interesting.

Just learn to love your life… now.

What are the glory years.

I think they are between 25 and 45.  That seems like a very short window of opportunity, but it is in that period between I don’t know shit and I don’t give a shit

As an ‘older’ person (50+) surely we have contributed through the hard years, with long hours, innovation, promotions, the hard slog and trying to make a difference in a world where everybody is trying to do the same.  The next generation is coming!  …. and they are coming in their own way.Screen Shot 2015-07-07 at 11.44.18

Just the other day I was sitting at a committee meeting with the same people I have been sitting on that committee with for the last 25 years!  When we all joined the committee we were appalled by the ‘old bastards’ who were doing the job then and slowly pushed them
from the committee so that we could drag it into something worthwhile for our generation. We were young, smarter than them, more motivated than them, and in all honesty got
things done!  I pointed out to the committee members the other day that we are all now ten years older than the ‘old bastards’ were when we pushed them out.  I also reminded them that when they speak to the young people this committee allegedly ‘serves’ – after we have passed on our little gem of knowledge and walked away thinking we have imparted some real wisdom, don’t listen too closely as you will hear “Silly old bastard”
being said.

I just think that the things we do in our life (as with friends) are for reasons and seasons and occasionally, very occasionally for that entire life.Screen Shot 2015-07-07 at 11.37.25

It is similar in that there are jobs (the people you meet as friends on holidays), vocations (the people who love what you do and they love doing it with you) and true passions (the childhood friend who you still hang out with and couldn’t imagine them not being in your life).

It is realising which one you are doing that is important.  I am sure lots of us wake up and realise that we have suddenly found out that the friends we met on holidays are in our life all the time and we are not on holidays anymore and it is just not the same and secretly we wish they would just go away (why did I give them our address!?)

It is the same with the ‘glory years’.  We hang onto them and then suddenly realise (or actually most people don’t realise) that they are over and now you are just the old guy on the committee who talks shit and wont retire!

I was in the pub the other day (a serious part of my post 50 vocation) when I saw a guy who I used to work with and barely recognised him.  No, it wasn’t because he looked old and wanted to tell me about a rash that wouldn’t go away – it was because he looked so good, younger, fitter, healthier, happier.  Why?  He was 9 days (he also told me the hours) until he officially retired from a ‘vocation’ he had been doing for 40 years.  He said it was time to retire and he was moving onto the next part of his life.  He didn’t bitch about his working life but said how great it was and how much he had loved it, but now was the time to go, it wasn’t his world anymore – by the way he was 55!

I know how he feels and am on the cusp of retiring myself.  I am not going away bitter, I am just going away.  Not going out in a blaze of glory, or hanging on as a sad, bitter, pathetic dinosaur – but, slowly stepping out the door, shaking the hands of the ‘friends’ I will never see again, remembering the good times, allowing the bad times to fade and leaving it all in the hands of those like me back them, living the glory years.

Screen Shot 2015-07-07 at 11.40.05POST SCRIPT
I am not dead, just different!  The ending of the glory years are the beginning of something more special.  Spending time with yourself, being in the world and not pushed along buy it.  I am also here if you need me, I have the time to help and the time to talk – not the time to child care and baby sit by the way!  I managed that myself so can you.  It is the time for turning learning into wisdom, if for no one else other than myself.  It is time for noticing the world.  It is a time for peacefulness, spiritualness (that can be anything you want), laughter and remembering.  It is a a time for phone calls to friends or people who you would like to be your friends (not people you met on holidays – or maybe now it is the time for them?).  It is time for phone calls, visits and letters to those who need them.  It is time for thankfulness and forgiveness.

It is the post ‘glory years’ where the real rewards actually are, you just a have to look and stop telling people about your next Doctors appointment!

Better off Oblivious

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I have just emerged from a period of getting stuff done, making lists and ticking stuff off, keeping and making appointments, lunching and ringing.  I am in the zone, I am getting shit done and I am making headway.  I read the news and have an opinion, I care about the world, the people, the weather (which incidentally in the last 12 months I have come to realise climate change may actually be real – no, it is real – and it is possibly our fault…), I post shit and comment on shit……. and……

I am oblivious.

I am oblivious to the fact that it is a miracle that I was actually born and I am hear.
I am oblivious to the luck my birth gave me (good parents, Australia etc etc)
I am oblivious to the billions of miracles occuring around me each moment:
– the sparrows amongst the cafe tables
– the smile of a stranger
– the glory of books (I buy but never find time to read)
– the joy of having friends I can call, or not
– the sun on my face

I hate not watching the news and knowing what’s going on – I hate it more doing it and knowing it.  I am aware of the tragedies of the world and oblivious to their real suffering.  I watch the news and concentrate on the advertisements.  I am driven by the news and consuming and oblivious to the neighbours in my street.

I am happy, but oblivious to the sun on my face.

Tomorrow: it is Easter, and I am not going to watch the news; I am not going to live the day oblivious, on auto pilot and 30 second commercial grabs:

Tomorrow…..

I am going to notice…..

 

 

Better at Obligations

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If you were wondering if I was going to come around and help you move, or paint the house, of do that paving, or…. well just about anything, the answer is, no.

I don’t go and help people do their stuff and I don’t ask people to help me.  I have arranged the most complex pulley systems, leavers, counterweights and just plain anvilslogged it out alone rather than ask ‘a mate’ for help.  If I do ask for help (I may be pinned under an engine block for example…) I just  can’t get over the feeling of obligation in ‘returning the favour.’  Owing a days work is like spending time until I pay it back carrying an anvil of obligation around my neck (anvils are really heavy…)

Why?

I dont like the ‘obligation’ surrounding ‘helping out’.

It is strange considering that my core values are: Service, Integrity, Loyalty and Knowledge.  I think I should have a look at those in relation to the anvil.

SERVICE

To me service is a selfless thing.  It is doing something for the greater good or the good of the individual who can’t do it for themselves.  Yeah, I would clean out the gutters of the old bloke down the street who can’t do it for themselves and not expect anything in return – other than that feeling that comes from genuinely doing something good for no other reason than it is something good.  I don’t donate too much to charity but when I do I prefer it to be big.  Also, I donate to those I can trust (I do my research – especially when I read in the news the other day that one charity only donates 1% – yes read that – ONE PERCENT – of all money collected to the cause it is raising money for!  The rest goes on administration, running costs and wages!) and I never donate to the ‘Harry-died-of cancer-so-we-made-a-new-charity-to-remember-him-fund’ as they just set up an entire new set of admin which chews into the money collected – wouldn’t it be better to remember Harry by actually making sure all money goes to the cause?

So is this base value of mine really about service.  Yes.  But that service has to be for the right reason and for the right cause.  I easily walk away from anything I am involved in if I think those involved are serving themselves rather than the actual cause – it is hard to find too many that aren’t doing this in one way or another – either organisationally (see any business, charity or corporation that has a HR or publicity department!) or the individuals that are within it, being only in it for them and not in the alturistic way.

I am reviewing my ‘service’ definition as it is easy to talk about it a lot and donate the occasional buck – but surely true service is selfless, serving those who really do serve and coming out the other end a better person from within.

I think I might volunteer (as soon as I fill in all the forms and get my Police clearance and deal with the despot running the show….)

INTEGRITY

I just love integrity.  Have a look at a few definitions about it and then think about what you have done in the past and will do in the future.  I have lied for my family and friends and would probably do it again – is that integrity thing now gone forever.

I once defined integrity as doing the right thing when nobody is watching – however, in todays world I had to put the caveat on it, that integrity is NOT doing the right thing because somebody might be watching!

Plus, I am sure that there are a whole lot of different religions and ideologies that have differing definitions of integrity that have been developed.  Maybe in some places you can be a little bit pregnant just like you can have varying degrees of integrity. Really.  How do you measure someones integrity – I’ve been caught using my mobile phone in the car but never caught stealing – is it because I have never stolen anything or just never been caught  – you might think it’s just because I’ve never been caught.  I am the only one who knows.  Or should my integrity be tested by increasing levels of temptation until I just can’t resist anymore and don’t pay for the chocolate on the HR or Publicity Department front counter – why did ‘Lion Mints’ disappear from counters everywhere – the honour system didn’t seem to quite work out over the long run.  In a world of thieves (or mobile phone users in cars) is the honest man the one without integrity because they are not doing what is expected?

Integrity is within but only ever tested externally – or depending on your beliefs at some later stage after death or never.  I think the greatest test for integrity is in your heart, working on the fact that you have one with the same values, beliefs, ideologies, up bringing, social circumstances, religion, income and opportunity as me.

I think I might have to cross this one of my list.

LOYALTY

Now we’re talking.  Something every Australian can relate to as it is all about ‘mateship’.  Or is it.  The reason I can cross (maybe) integrity off my list is that if you are loyal to your values (and of course you are not a thief) then surely integritytrity is part of that.

I wrote in a previous blog about the people I let live in my head because they pay rent (click here for a read).  It is about being loyal to those that add to your life.  But, is that loyalty boundless and unconditional.  I think not.  You can’t be loyal to a mate, a cause or a country (read Government) that goes against everything you believe in – your values.  Be under no misapprehension I will stand by my friends no matter what – but standing with them may not necessarily be agreeing with them.  Plus, it’s easy to be a friend in the good times (or when your life is not getting in the way) it is much harder to be loyal to a friend when your life is shit (or even when it is good) and you don’t what their shit on top of your shit.

Loyalty, I have decided, is always being loyal to your values.  Let’s face it a friend is a friend usually because they have the same values.

KNOWLEDGE

I have to start this part off with the ‘wisdom of Puk’ a friend of mine who with our mate Des (who passed away recently but will live on through us – read about Des in my post Better with Des Steele, my friend) often plucked (a pluck by Puk!) great wisdom from day to day life.  Puk would comment about others (and hopefully observations of others about us) that there is someone “who know stuff, about things.”

I think we all know that person and often want to be them.  A lucky few were born that way but for most of use the ‘pursuit of knowledge’ especially after we are forced to learn at school is something we have to work and and want to.

I love knowing ‘stuff’

I have just finished an indonesian course (and am doing the advanced one next year – it is on Friday nights so it has a double advantage in that I will learn Indonesian and not go out boozing on Fridays night!).  I have enrolled in a welding course next year – I just always wanted to know how to weld – I want to make stuff!

But so much of the ‘knowledge’ I possess I have learned from other people.  When I was training at work I knew that it was all a bit pointless because 80% of work skills we actually learned on the job, so I hoped my courses were designed more to make people thing and know what to learn, than to actually learn too much at all!

Most of the knowledge I have I go for free, so I think I also have an obligation (there is that word again) to give it away as well.

Also I think knowledge is about knowing yourself – the hardest subject of all.

Plus there are also those things that once you know you can’t ‘unknow’ – these are often the things that change relationships, attitudes, beliefs and even faith in others.  Knowledge is power but it is has to be the case of using that power for ‘good not evil.’  I read “Men are from Mars, woman are from Venus” twice – the first time I learned how to manipulate people the second I learned how to get along with people – it is all about how you use and share you knowledge.

Knowledge is also wonderful.  Great stories, great poems, great adventures and there is nothing better than the epiphany when you learn something new and say “You’re kidding – I never knew that” and in fact it may end a life long misbelief, prejudice or add to your life in ways you couldn’t image.

Knowledge is also a living legacy of all those that came before us on this finite journey.  Knowledge is the relay race of our species and if you don’t take the baton and run, then perhaps you are just a spectator after all.

So what about those obligations?

Where does all this Service, Integrity (still haven’t crossed that one off yet), Loyalty and Knowledge leave me with my obligations?

Simple, I wont be obliged.  I will do what I do because that is who I am: you are my friend because that is who WE are.  It is simple to not ring a friend and through that one act (over a period of time) you stop being friends – were you friends in the first place?  Twice in the last week someone has said to me friends are for a Reason, a Season or a Lifetime…. it is a matter of working out does a reason really make a friendship, are you in summer, winter or are the leaves already falling (seasons can take a long time) or really, “We few, we lucky few, we band of brothers’ are really hear for life.

I will come and help you, because I know you needed me mate?   And of course I want (read, really want) your life to be better because I am in it.  I will not come and help you because I feel obliged.

So what happens when you need your friends and suddenly your life seems pretty solitary.  Firstly don’t tell yourself ‘stories’ like they don’t care about me etc etc.  Maybe their life did get in the way… maybe it was more important.  I was going to write ‘you be the judge’ but recently I realised that I judge just about everybody and everything because that is what I have always done.  It has to be just about the facts – ‘Just the facts, ma’am”!

Obligation no longer exists for me – I think that is the answer.

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It makes life easier (and considering one of my mantras is keep it simple – I think this fits with my values) but execution of a simple plan is often very hard.

But, I can keep that simple to.  If it doesn’t feel right don’t do it.

I’m sure I can be very much obliged but just not enough to be obliged.

As I said in Better with the ONLY Commodity it is all about time – how I spend my finite resource will be about actually being a better man – this may including doing your paving or helping you move, but it will always be about because of the way you made me feel not because of the feeling of obligation.

Just a final thought.

Recently I went through a sad period of my life with the loss of my mate Des and my wonderful Mum.  People, my friends (a lot who were relatives) were great.

My favourite part of this process was when someone rang and uttered those hollow words “If there is anything I can do just let me know” and I would reply, as a matter of fact there is, could you come around and wash my car or mow the lawn or clean our house or tidy my shed or run down the shops and get me a pie and a packet of smokes….. they all thought I was joking!

 

 

 

Better in the New Year

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New Year’s resolutions I think are a good idea as it gives you a meaningful definitive start to things that you may have been planning on getting around to – perhaps since last New Years eve!

Considering that last New Years eve I made the following:

  • Give up smoking
    Result:  I went the longest I ever have giving up (5 months) and then had that one as a celebration because I thought it wouldn’t hurt! Yeah, right.
  • Get to 78 kgs
    Result:  I did have a bit of an advantage here as I was at 88 kgs which was the heaviest I had been in my life – I got to 80!  Not a complete fail but I have had a few blow outs leading up to New Years and I am a bit to scared to get on the scales – a complete failure… well maybe not but I am back concentrating on the 2/5 lifestyle.
  • Meditate Daily
    Result: I think about meditating (trying to be mindful) a fair bit.  Maybe this year.

I will keep the above resolutions again this year with a few modifications to my life which surrounds it.  The reason I want these modifications is that I went back through my journal for the year last night and decided that some parts of my life were great and some were just outright shit.DSCN2012

But, in looking over the last year I realised that some of the best times were the little moments (as my wife would describe them ‘the moments of joy – don’t forget to have a look a her blog at www.beatcancerwithjoy.com) were some of the moments that I had forgotten about but were actually the joys of my year.  So, I reviewed my ‘mantras’ on my home page and although I haven’t decided to change my home page (although it is probably due for a revamp!) here they are below.  I think these are really my New Years resolutions, because it is about living all my life, every day and let’s face it that’s what we have to live everyday – remember if people say ‘life is hard’ the reply is, in comparison to what!  So here they are:

  • Follow my heart
  • Use my head
  • Be peaceful
  • Be mindful
  • Keep it simple
  • Fix it
  • Let it go
  • Write about it
  • Be a better man

Well that’s me for the New Year, day one anyway.

Now I just have to lose weight, meditate and give up the smokes – easy!