I sometimes find that I sit down to write with the best of ideas and intentions and find at the end I have delved into the realm of sarcasm, judgement and criticism.

I reread my posts and think what a waste, this could have been so much…. well, more and even perhaps helpful.

I think my confusion is that I think a few words, written with the best of intentions can actually make a difference; well as I see it. Now, I believe this is true to an certain extent as to the power of words written and spoken contain so much beauty.  Yet, not all words are beautiful or uttered beautifully and can be the exact opposite; ugly and hateful.  Words are so powerful they can be healers or destroyers.  I believe this without question.

However words, good or bad, without action, are the forgotten utterings of intentions; good or bad.

Yes, words are fun and tragic and historical.  But, ultimately they can be so hollow without action.  Do I think the second world war would have been different if Mein Kampf had not been written, what about the Crusades or the Jihads and their guiding words…. And no matter what, don’t mention the Spanish Inquisition.

Words have been around for millennium from blowing red dye over your hands onto a cave wall to a tweet today.

Words hurt, they love, they hate, they save and most of all they enable our connection to each other.  Words can inspire many emotions and words can also inspire action.

I read a lot of my stuff after I have written it and throw it into the corner… then a few months, years, decade later, I pull it out and have a read and say have a look at this insightful bastard.  Not, only that, but, it is splattered with humour and the occasional generational joke that raises the eyebrows of the under 50’s and gets a knowing nod or laugh from my generation.  But, this piece of paper with all its insight and knowledge was sitting in a cupboard and, well, doing nothing.  It’s value to anyone and especially me were lost.  Word, and actions are partners.

I loved the look on one of my daughters boyfriends face when I told him that the movie ‘I am Legend’ was based on the 1970’s movie ‘The Omega Man’ and surprise, surprise I just happened to have a copy to show him (Unfortunately it was a digital recording and not on Betamax…. All those over 50, que to laugh) …. And….  I think I just wrecked my point here….!!!???

As we started the movie Charton Heston was driving the greatest car in the world – a red circa 70’s Mustang around the deserted streets of the apocalyptic future and wanted to play a bit of music…  so bang! … cut to him putting in an ‘8 track’ !!!   Well that took a bit of explanation to the late 20’s good bloke who I think chuckled with relief that he was not born then – maybe even his folks were kids…. He nodded with disbelief that an 8 track was a tape the size of a video cassette and only held 8 songs.  (and just in closing I won’t even mention what Soylent Green is made of!)

Okay, where was I.  Yeah, words are meaningful and meaningless was in my head.  But, I don’t believe the meaningless part.  Funny how the words sometimes in your head are best just left in your head.

Words are never meaningless.  Often there are ‘throw away lines’ that have more meaning than a Presidential Speech.  They only become meaningless when we don’t believe a word of what we are being told – then they are white noise.  Words can sometimes be beautiful and express the world in ways our five senses or an Instagram photo never can.  A picture may be worth a thousand words but one word can be seen in a never ending collection of pictures: love.  But, words can be our saviours and our demise.

The pen is not mightier than the sword in risk assessed combat training and manuals.  In real life however the words written by the pen, the words said, and Facebooked, and Tweeted, and Instagrammed, have destroyed lives and countries.  No sword can truly fix a word penning in hate or anger.

Sticks and stone, do hurt….  Words also do hurt and they can destroy.

I wrote a blog the other day about ‘being a man of your word’.  This was a complete commitment to use the example of me giving up smoking.  I am on day 10 and saving a lot of money and those cancer sticks will always break my bones… but, I think they will break my heart quicker when I look into the face of my kids through a clear plastic mask when I have just had a brain aneurysm (real example sited her!)   ….. and the absolute joy of all this was I gave one of my kids a little financial help the other day which was less than a couple of packets of cigarettes…  I called them and told them I had saved hundreds so this was their reward for not giving up on me giving up.  Their words had changed my life for the better.  

Sticks and stones, words and rhymes – that’s almost a rap! I love Eminem and think he is the greatest musician for a long time, who beat the odds and is really not recognised for it.  He is the master of words and even has a rhyme for the word orange!  I remember when he became famous as the best rapper in the world and he was white – the best golfer in the world at the time was African-American!.  We never how the world will change and present itself to us.  I believe it is how I interpret it that matters more…. And the words I use in that interpretation.

In my thoughts and words in the past I have interpreted the world wrong when I should have just accepted in.  The word I should have used to describe the world was grateful.

Words.

The greatest influence of war… and peace, in the world.

It is a travesty that we now have a crime;  yes a CRIME, called ‘Hate Speech.’

The thing is since the tragedy in Christchurch NZ I have seen so much hate speech disguised at ‘freedom of speech’.  I had a moment when I saw what happened in Christchurch.  The first words into my head were tragedy, anger and justice.  I took another moment and realised that these were the ‘false words’ of  my mind trained in responses that we all can accept.  This moment caused me to replace all of those words with just two: love and sadness.  They felt like so much better words than anger and justice.  They didn’t just sit in my head but nestled by heart.  Those words helped me accepted what I had seen on the TV and have hope (another great word) for all of us.

I have decided that the word, the words that we use will always be our undoing .  It has been mine and I am now ashamed of abusing the wonder of language and words.

Before you say anything, or get angry… count to 10.  That little saying goes into the same credibility annuals as if you pull a face and the wind changes your face will stay like that and don’t go swimming for an hour after you’ve eaten  – I know the last one is a medical fallacy but, I would be disappointed to die in the river choking on a vomited up cheese burger….

Or are those 10 seconds possibly the most important seconds you can spend.  Ten seconds is a long time to choose your words.  Ten seconds in millions of seconds in our lives.  Ten seconds to not press send as we think of our words and the consequences of our words.  As we think of the motivation of our words and the consequences.  And in ta 10 seconds how that can change.

And there is another thing…

I have read (and hopefully written over the years) wonderful words…..  and I hope they did make a change, even if just for a while.

I have also used words that were like a dagger in the heart…. and the wound of those words is long and slow in healing if ever.

The beauty of ‘the word’ should never be confused with the horror of the intention or the love of the intention.

One of the most beautiful use of words I have ever seen is….

‘I apologise and I am sorry.’

Said or written with heart and soul is the epitome of our language.   I am sure it can be written and said a lot of other ways around the world.  The intention however is the same.  I wrote another blog about that the other day – click bait!!!!    

I used to believe it doesn’t matter what you say it only matters what you do.  This was a truly false god I worshipped.

What I am trying to say in using two fingers to bash this keyboards and mangle the English language is, that words are wonderful. They convey love, joy, respect as well as so many positive emotions.  They also have their evil opposite brothers who convey malice, hurt and hatred.  

The beauty of words is, we get to choose.

Our life is full of so many significant moments…

Yet, in the future when we look back we can remember so few.  Often it is the moments of tragedy and mayhem that flood our memories when we scan the history of our lives.

For the majority of us, life is really filled with insignificant moments that make us who we are, the memories that we smile about just before we go to sleep, the situations that we so desperately try to recreate and are often disappointed because they are not the same.

Life after all can only be lived now….  

These insignificant moments are the ‘real’ moments of our lives.

This weekend I had many of those such moments.

My middle daughter and her boyfriend came to visit. I was going through a challenging period of my life and looking forward to the visit, for company, solace and the love that only comes from those few special people in your life – if you are like me that circle is not vast but its depth and loyalty pales the average Facebook friends list into insignificance.

I, suffering from the malaise of my challenges, got out of bed late and wanted company rather than activity when they arrived.  

Midmorning they arrived with the loving greetings and care of children and the insuppressibly exuberance of youth.  ‘Let’s go in the boat’. 

Eat.  We had fritz on toast.  We laughed at the joy of it and the most bread we had all eaten, possibly ever.  (I have the recipe for this delicacy know as ‘The Big Man’s Breakfast’  !!!) 

The boat, it was in our minds and conversations of ‘what to do’ but didn’t yet fill my heart.  ….. But it hasn’t been out for months, it was filthy, it has been just sitting around, there was a lot of preparation; it was a task. The excuses I had were overcome by a decision to give and all I had to do was move.  

The momentum of youth caught me and spirited me along.  This spirit was not one of doing tasks, but, in enjoying tasks.  The mundane was each a small victory.  The tragic, became funny.   The perfectionism of age became the call of ‘she’ll be right’ and we’ll see what happens.

We laughed and revelled in those disasters that never happened – we laughed at ourselves – we celebrated as a team playing in a game that had no winners, because we were doing it for fun.

We were in the water and everybody seemed to do the stuff that mattered – and a lot of it didn’t matter, but it was done anyway. There were no fanfares, cheering of impressed crowds, the smashing of a Champaign bottle on the bow – there was just the moment, then the next, then the next.  We weren’t there for a crowd but for the moment of seeing what would happen next and going with it.

The water was like glass.  The beer was cold – okay it was a bit early, but it was still cold. We waved at others – and most waved back.  One even danced with his shirt off and a belly bouncing and was rewarded with a dance mirrored from the back of the boat.

We looked at beautiful scenery that may be just ‘the bush’ unless you look with an eye of ‘we are lucky.’

We laughed.  We waved some more and we saw boat races that surprised us and dogs sitting on boats. We laughed at our attempts at emulating the titanic at the stern… and sometimes just weaved in the water a bit because it felt a little bit exciting, not to scary, but just fun at the most basic level.

We broke down and we told stories of breaking down. We were in a boat owned by a ‘doomsday prepper’ and there were spare parts and tools.  Fixing it was almost as surprising and enjoyable as actually breaking down.  We took off again with cheers of success and knowing that even failure would have provided the same pleasure – although it may have been a bit more hassle, we would have had a better story, the continuation was just another moment of celebration.

We met the lock master – all of who are pleasant and fun and skilled. We lamented the boating skills of the novice of which we were in that league. We laughed and chatted of river locks and the science of them which we chuckled about in trying to understand.

We ventured into the ‘secret’ part of the river, where there are channel markers and the depth sounder beeps all the time for the shallow water. We weaved and wondered and discovered like the original river pilots.

We forgot our boat laws but wore our life jackets.

We stopped at one of the many beautiful sand bars… for no reason than to stop.  We swam. The water was chilly and the river shrimps were biting which made it all the more fun.  The reluctant swimmer swam and we laughed with jocks and bras and waved to the bewildered boats passing.

… and sometimes in moments where we didn’t laugh, or speak, we just loved the moment.

On the river trip home we had new experiences, new captains and waved.  We were patient in landing at let the family lauch first.  It all went well and soon the moment of insignificance became a wonder. 

A wonder of joy.

A wonder of nature.

A wonder of bush mechanic repairs.

A wonder of fun for fun sake.

A wonder of a moment where I knew why I existed.

A moment forever.

…and we were home and filled with our trip, kept some momentum, and packed up and laughed at our mistakes. Even marvelling at our success.

We rested and ate and sat around and told stories – and I listened!

In the evening we saw the dangers of early beers which was completely overshadowed by the care of each other.  Most of all the chats and the jokes and the conversation was of meaning, and acceptance and care.  Love and politics and religion and all the taboo subjects are only the food of arguments when you don’t listen, and love, and respect.  The jokes will always win when they succeed with humour, no sarcasm and mostly when they are about yourself.  Fatigue set early with drinks and food and mostly with a day well spent.  And the tiredness drapes over you like a blanket of comfort and the glow of mutual contentment.

We sleep the sleep of a good day – with the sting of the sun on your skin and the glow of love from those who just lived a wonderful day with you.

The morning was slow but filled with the true love of a morning cuddle and the dozing of a big day and night.

… we ate again and moaned the heads of experience yet not fully learned.  We rested and laughed at a movie and lounged on the lounge.

… and the moment came when we parted.  No long goodbyes but ones with hugs and handshakes and kisses that savour a moment, the many moments of love and fun and friendship.

The last wave as the car pulls away is the hardest unless it is not filled with the afterglow of the days, the afternoons, the moments that actually make a life.  You will never be alone again.

The moments can so easily be lost in the noise of what we are supposed to believe is significant. There are a lot of photos that will never compare to the snapshot of complete and total connection and absolute joy.

I sit and I write now, not long after, and I can feel the inhalation of hitting the cold water which is completely overshadowed by the inhalation of joy from a significant moment, a shared laugh, a gasp at nature, a touch, a hug, or the fleeting moment of eye contact.

The afterglow is more than a memory – it is the now a part of who I am. Thank You.