Category Archives: Better Up Against It

At times you just have to take the high road when you are up against it

Better News Isn’t Always Good News

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I wrote a post on Facebook the other day which read:

“A little bit of good news can make a big difference in your day”

And, that little bit of good news did make my day a whole lot better.  But, this is my life, remember.  It all collapsed when the little bit of good news turned into a whole lot of unknown bad news.

Don’t you hate that!

So, is it still a good day – yeah, I reckon so.  Why?  Because I’m still here.

I really have this problem in that my bits of bad news are really not that bad, yet they smash me in the head like catastrophes.

Most times nobody dies and most times they are my ‘first world’ type problems.  It’s that perspective thing again – I saw it when I wrote ‘Better Dead‘ and I am trying to live it a bit more; but life does get in the way.

So, my good news, turned bad news, is now just news.  I am still here and my day, week, month, year goes on.  I am sure that most of the rest of the world didn’t really notice me having a shit day.  I know there are lots of other people, some my friends, some just because they are Palestinians, who are having worse days than me – and they have no end in sight, perhaps ever.

Well, I’m still here.

 

 

 

Better with Friends

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My wife wanted me to meet a friend of her’s from years ago who she admired as a craftsman and builder… he was coming from interstate and was just here for the night.

I said I didn’t want to.

There was a reason for this.

I have good friends, I love my friends.

I have a group of friends that at the end of phone calls, text messages and emails we say or write ‘LYLAB’ – which stands for “Love You Like a Brother” (Then again there was this great comment after one of those messages that instead of saying LYLAB what was written was LYMTMB – which stood for “love you more than my brother”….. hard to explain in some circumstances but understandable in others……)

I said to my wife (I regretted it a bit later) that I didnt want to meet her friend from years ago, as I didn’t want anymore friends, and for me to get a new friend someone would have to die.

I am pretty sure that the guy she wanted me to meet was a good bloke, my wife is a great judge of character, but, I didn’t have any history with him or any shared experiences and I was working on just geting my own experiences together at the time.

I got reminded….

I just have to talk briefly about reminded, because I am now getting to a point in my life when I am constantly reminded, well actually remembered if there is such a word, of things that have happened in the past.  The difference about these reminded rememberings is that they are usually memories of things that I have not thought of since they happened. It goes to show that my religion could possibly be correct, but it also goes to show that everything we do today has some thing to do with what has happened in the past.  This is not in a mystical sense, but in the sense that memories are not every really gone, but only come back into context, when they are actually in context. The thing is that these rememberings are usually not something I have thought about since it happened and for all intensive purposes was gone from my memory forever, and suddenly it is smashed into the now of my brain…… and it is like I am there again….. and it is sometimes an okay feeling to have…. sometimes a bad feeling.

Anyway.

I didn’t meet her friend, but, I did start to think about the friends who would have to die to be replaced.

Why were they in that group
Why couldn’t they be replaced
Why did I love them (and sometimes hate thm at the same time…)
Where did they live in my head…….
(and why did they live in my head?)

Well, you have to spend a bit of time thinking about why you think about the things that you do and where did or do those thoughts come from.

If this post sees the light of day, and it is the first one you have come across then some of these ruminations must be imaginations of the madness within me ….. Or, at least that is what I would be thinking if I was reading this (and I have read this a couple of times and made a few changes before I posted it, but each time I read it it seems like I can’t change it to not sound a bit crazy.)

Wow, the above was getting into the silly world of writing from my head to the keyboard with no filter…..’

so, onward…..

So were did the death of my friends requiring a replacement come from?
Nowhere and everywhere and the mentor (read the blog about Bob)

It is all about who you allow to live in your head….

First of all I have to tell you a story that Bob told me, and when he told me it, it was a story about me.  It was a story about the witches, Woulda, Shoulda, Coulda (the Worlock Gunna hadn’t yet been invented?)

I just changed my mind, I dont want to tell you a story, I want you to experience a story. The sad part of this story is that if you get into it, and let yourself experience it, then it will manafest the witches.

Think about your worst day at work, the last fight with a friend/wife/husband/workmate etc etc…. and as you were leaving that fight (either covered in blood or literal blood, or worse, damage, literal or actual, or emotional damage or some other damage, that even now leaves a scar that itches….)

Keep imagining.

It is your worse day and you are driving home….
The witches are in the car…..
You are gripping the wheel….
Driving home surrounded by the worst group of drivers on the planet….
Everyone is fucked except you…

You have a plan about the wrongs that have been avalanched upon you today, plus a few if not all the ones from the past…
You start the ruminating, then the plan for vengence, no not vengence you are way beyond that, this is outright revenge: there is no sitting on the riverbank today….. THEY WILL PAY……

Pay……
Pay What?
They will pay in that every minute that you let them live in your head they are stealing some of you from you…

Time you can never get back.

Well maybe it is time to reset the ledger.

They don’t pay rent so why do you let them live in your head!
I will say that again, because this is the most important part of this post “IF THEY DON’T PAY RENT THEY CAN’T LIVE IN YOUR HEAD”

Let me tell you about that! Let me tell you about the rental properties in my head that I manage.

My head has a a finite number of rooms.
The room with best View.
The room for my band of brothers.
The room for friends, family and close acquaintances, and
The room for people I have not yet met……

THE BEST VIEW
These are the people that love you and you love them. It might be your family it may not. They remember your birthday and hug you when you cry. They are your Mum, your Dad, your brother, your sister and those members of your family that make it a family. They get the best view and they get free rent for life (okay, sometimes they forget to pay the rent, but somtimes the rent is not necessary).

THE BAND OF BROTHERS
I got this from Bob and I can’t ever imagine making the sacrifice that he had to form his band. But, I have my band of brothers. They are the guys and girls that when you call, they come – anytime – anywhere – for any thing. They fight when you have to fight and they fight when you can’t fight. It’s a bond that is LYLAB – love you like a brother.  They start you on the right path and they stop you on the wrong path. But, not matter what path you are standing on, they stand shoulder to shoulder with you, they stand fast, unwavering, because they are your Band of Brothers.

FRIENDS, FAMILY AND close ACQUAINTANCES
Often these rooms are not visited often. The crowd is often a bit messy and is a bit on the transient nature. But, if you go to enough parties with the right people, then you only end up at parties with the right people. They are the peopel who pay rent, in your family (the annual, a bit awkward family BBQ  (but they are the host), the close aquaintances that live next dooor, offer to make you a coffee now and again at work, organise the secret Santa, or maybe are just the old odd bod that collects cans around your neighbourhood. they pay rent, they make your llife richer, more confortable and more than anything else…. connected.

PEOPLE I HAVE NOT MET YET….
Hey, the empty room. dont, dont ever, fill it with the ironing board, or the boxes that you haven’t unpacked from the last 3 moves. This may be an empty room, but a room that is prepared to to filled. The friend you have not yet met…..

So I am better with friends.  I am better because of my friends.  I am also better because of the friends I no longer have – they didn’t pay rent and they no longer live in my head.  I try to keep the Witches at bay and my friends in my head.

Next time I am driving home, every time that I am driving home, they will get the best view. I know through them I will be a better man.

Better in March

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Well it has been a few months into the new year and time has passed (I think in a blog one should avoid the subject of the bleeding obvious… but then again if that was the case then most of the blogs in the world wouldn’t exist!)…. time has passed and I often wonder whether I have moved forward or I have just been treading water. I actually don’t think that you can tread water in life… I was once told that it feels like you are treading water, but you are actually on auto pilot (and suddenly the thought of the video “This is Water” comes into my head.)

So, it is March. Months have passed by and I am still here. I wrote I am still here in bold as it is becoming a famous catch phrase of a friend of mine, in relation to going to funerals. When we are at the funerals of friends – which seems to be more and more each day, week, month year, …. we all walk outside (it used to be to have a smoke) and talk about life  or our friend/relative/acquaintance/funeral of person I didn’t really know but thought I had to go to, that we are all at.  And, it as at this time that my friend, possibly semi-sage, says “Just remember, we are still here!”

That is it, we are still here.

I have decided that I need to write more in my blog and less in my Journal. Or at least write more of what is in my Journal in my blog. I spend so much of my time trying to be a sage (and not remembering that the most important thing is that we are still here!) and actually sharing and letting the experience be about the daily, hourly, minute by minute struggle that I have in being a better man. And let me tell you being a better man is all about being all the things a man should be…. husband, father, sibling, son…. and on and on and on……and, that each day, I have a plan to be a better many, but, then the day comes and plays out in its own ways, and steals the time I planned for being a better man,  and the day ends not where I thought it should.  I also realise that it ends in the NOW, in the space that I am not noticing, because I perhaps have been on autopilot all day.

From today, I will write in my blog daily. It will be a struggle just like each of my days are. But I want it to be about achieving and not struggling.

Also……..

Today is a notable day; It is 4 weeks, that is one month, since I gave up smoking. (I have not had a puff..)

Now just that little problem of being a slim better man!

Better at Lonely

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Have you ever just got to the point when lonely was okay…..

Sometimes it is just okay to be by yourself; is this lonely or just being alone; is it okay for just a while or is there a danger of it becoming a habit.

I suppose it comes down to that old saying that you come into this world alone and that is how you go out (I think the actual saying is about coming and going in and out of the world naked… But, that strikes me as a bit of a perverted picture of not only sitting around alone, but also naked!).  If you can’t bear to be with yourself, who else can you bear to be with, and who else can bear to be with you?

There is nothing, quite as lonely as being in a room full of people and being alone.

I remember a long time ago when I was just a young bloke and I split up with my girlfriend.  I noticed that not only didn’t I have sex anymore (except of course when I was alone and naked!) but that I didn’t have a whole lot of places to go, or a whole lot of people to go with. I was in that really strange age group, or rather life stage, that falls differently for all of us. Everyone else was married, or was about to get married, or had partners (we used to call them boyfriends and girlfriends!) or just weren’t available when I was. I didn’t include the group of people that always seem to be surrounded by people;  I dont know about them because I have never been one of them.  (I just thought that perhaps the people surrounded by people all the time might be the loneliest of us all…. I dont know?)

So, am I now a better man at being alone, or am I over being lonely, or do I just accept lonely.

Yes, no.

(Incidentally the ‘yes, no’ beginning to sentences which appears to have become part of our everyday vocabulary is really beginning to shit me beyond believe.   Is it yes or no.  Why would you start a sentence by saying something positive and then negative, in agreeance and then in no-agreeance.  It is just weird, lazy, unthoughtful, non-speak.  It reminds me about the phrase that was going around a few years ago when you would ask someone a question and they would answer ‘pretty much’.  What the fuck does pretty much mean anyway… I suppose it means yes, no.)

Notwithstanding (which is a word that I love), things change over the years and ‘pretty much’ is replaced by ‘here’s the thing’ (which I might claim originality for as it was about 6 years ago that my lovely wife told me that after a few too many wines I would preempt most sentences with ‘here’s the thing’.  I think it has a bit to do with the wine but also a bit to do with the fact that I thought I knew everything and everyone should listen to me!   I also think it was a time before this blog and before my Being a Better Man project when I spent a lot of time talking without thinking and a lot of time thinking without thinking.  My ‘heads up display’ (see My Religion) in those days was more like heads up my own arse – and while I’m looking at me you look at me!)

So, where was I, lonely.

2009-06-09 Me Jo Short Hol 077I have experienced periods of being alone when that is not only what I wanted, but what I needed.  I have experienced periods of lonely that weren’t really ‘sad’ lonely, but just that I wished I had someone to share that moment with.  Upon reflection, I suppose I wasn’t really lonely in those moments I was just disappointed that there wasn’t someone else there to have that shared experience.  I have experience moments of lonely which have nothing to do with being sad, but being in a different time in my life when I wished I was in another (perhaps that is melancholy and not lonely?)

But, the lonely that trumps them all is the lonely I have felt when I haven’t felt like I was one of you, when I was really lost and didn’t know why I was even here?

This is the Black Dog Lonely (see Better with the Black Dog).

I sort of like the sound of Black Dog Lonely (“BDL”) because it really is in a category of its own. Having the BDL explanation, description and now acronym, also makes it a bit easiery to perhaps ask a mate, or tell a friend  – I am feeling a bit BDL today mate?  Oh, shit mate, that sucks, I’ll pop over for a beer.

I have also experienced lonely when I was not alone.

I have experienced lonely when I was siting on the lounge with the girl I loved. Maybe I didn’t love her that way any more and the being lonely was the knock on the theoretical door in my head telling me it is time to let go, or maybe just time to go.

and

I have experienced lonely when I was realy alone, really really alone. In a time before BDL was invented (which factually is any time before today really), but BDL was still just as real.  It was only about me, only me, with me, lonely… and it didn’t pass…. and the Black Dog was not just stalking me but was a part of me.  This is the BDL were you feel like an alien in your own world, in your own house, in your own life, in your own skin.

But,

I have another mantra about that, which is not only a mantra for me, but is a mantra I share.  I share it with you wether you want me to or not.

It is also a mantra that on a couple of occasions I have said our loud to myself or when I have rung a mate who was in the grips of BDL.  This is a time in life when you have gone down the lonely lane, to lonely place, to sit at lonely cafe, to wait for the Black Dog to arrive.

I have spoken to that mate, who is sometimes me, or sometimes another bloke who no one else has rung because they don’t know what to say, and, I tell them the truth.  That is, that doesn’t matter what is good in your life, it is not.  It doesn’t matter how much you look around you and realise how lucky you are, because you are not.  It doesn’t matter how many of your friends and family love and care about you, because you can’t feel it.  It doesn’t matter how much of a great and bright future you have, because you cant see it.  You can’t feel any of it.  It is all tainted, and sad, and lonely and black.  You know this is not true, but, now, it is.

I have spoken to them (and I have spoken to me.)

They were hard phone calls to make (but, I will make them again), hard coffee meetings have, or even arrange.  They are times when you know you are going to talk about things that you don’t talk about.

I ring up, they are surprised I have called, often I don’t know them very well and I tell them a story and it starts with, “I heard you were a bit crook”.  This is not a real ‘question’ about how someone in Australia is going.  We can be anywhere between being on our death beds, having a squirting arterial bleed, or just a bit of a cold; all which falls into the category of feeling a bit crook.  The funny part is that we often greet each other with “how are you going” and reply “Good, thanks” and that is the passing of our connection.  I must admit it is sometimes a relief in comparison to asking “how are you going” and they actually tell you!   When I make the call, or greet them for the coffee, I don’t ask then how they are going because I know, and I know, they can’t explain it.  So I explain it for them and I tell them a story.

I tell them about BDL.  I tell them about all that is good in their life, that feels bad.  I tell them I understand the woman (man) you love, the one you you love with all your heart, doesn’t matter.  I tell them I know they love their kids, but that doesn’t matter.  I tell them I know the hurt, regret, hate, love, questions, confusion, blackness they are feeling and don’t understand.  I talk to them about the feelings that if you have never had those feelings, you can’t explain.

I talk to them and I tell them the story:
about the tough guy crying.
about the fearless being afraid, for no reason, about nothing, about everything.
about letting everyone down, when you’re not.
about, lonely, lonely, lonely.
about never seeing how you will ever be better.

But is is not about that, it is about another thing…

I ring them up and I speak to them about all those things,
There is venom in my voice, because those things are here now and the hurt and they are to be despised.  If they are not here now then they are waiting around the corner to ambush you.  I speak to them, I throw it at them, that this is shit, their life is shit, it feels too bad, it feels to black, it feels too lonely.  I do this because they don’t think anyone else knows and if they do they definitely don’t speak about it

And I say to them. I cant make it better.
And I say to them. I know you. I have been you.
And I say to them, I only ask only one thing of you.
And you have to promise, before I ask you.
And they always say yes, because they don’t have anything else.

I tell them, you only have to do one thing.  You have to promise..

Survive.

If you survive the next minute, survive the next 2 minutes, survive the next 5 minutes, survive the next 15 minutes.

Survive an hour, a day, a week, a month, a year.

If you survive, you may not feel better, but you will feel,
If you survive, you may not get it all back, but you will not lose it all,
If you survive, you may not find the love, but you wont lose any that’s left,
If you survive, you may not find the answers, but you still get to ask,
If you survive, you get to survive,

and

That, can just maybe, be okay in its self, for now.

and

I think, when they realise that it is not about everything, and in fact may all be about nothing.  Then, they may not be so lonely.

Sometimes, you can’t be a better man, you just have to survive.

 

Better with the Black Dog

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I wrote a post not too long ago about being naked – naked to the world by writing this blog, that is.

Well today I thought it was about time to get naked, climb on a pedestal and slam cymbals together over my head.

Let me tell you about the Black Dog.  First of all I got the phrase from a friend of mine who went on the Black Dog Ride (click here to go to their web site).  The Back Dog is depression.

I feel like I am really standing on the pedestal now….

Some time ago I wrote a letter to my family (although it was only for my wife as the kids already know I am not all there – all our kids think that about us! …. my kids know that Dad sometimes goes to a place that it is not a good idea to follow him too) trying to tell them what it was like.  Here it is again.  Let me tell you writing this feels a bit like tearng off a band-aid…. really slowly, plus it’s a bit scary:

“I am writing this because I am just feeling so bad, no worse than I have for the last 5 days, just more of the same worse.  Imagine you fill a glass with black water and then you keep pouring more, blacker water into the glass; but it never overflows; it just gets fuller, denser, deeper, heavier; more black than black.  This is what it feels like when the Black Dog arrives.  There is no joy in anything.  Even as I sit here and think about all the things that are good in my life (I can intellectualise it every time), and there are many.  There is no joy in it, there is nothing in it.  When the Black Dog comes he takes over your life, it’s dark, it’s black, it’s heavy and it’s overwhelming.  Although it always seems the worst when it is happening, it is always the worse at that time, and only that time, at the time that matters.  I can’t explain how it feels to feel so rotten.  I withdraw from you guys because I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to say the things I have said before, but I have to live with you all, and you have to survive me. I have been horrible to myself and to all those around me in the past when I have gotten in this hole.  I try to stay away, physically and emotionally because I know I will hurt you.  Hurting you makes me feel worse and I get further and go longer into the hole.  I know it is horrible and perhaps even scary and inflicts long lasting pain to everyone when I am like this.  But, when I am like this, I don’t care…. and you all rightfully stay away from me to protect yourselves, and I feel so lonely, and alone; me and the Black Dog.  I fail at all the mindfulness that has been guiding me, and get more into the hole.  My brain doesn’t work properly.  I spend most of the day in confused thinking, walking through noise and things I can’t quite grasp.  I shake without shaking, I can feel it but not see it.  I ruminate about every bad thing I have done from yesterday to 40 years ago.  Waves of regret, after regret, after regret, smashes into my mind and stabs my heart (sometimes it is so bad it actually feels like it is a real physical hurt).  The Woulda, Shoulda, Coulda witches haunt my every waking moment, and often the not waking moments.  I get to relive every bad moment in my life over and over again with increasing pain, regret, sadness and shame.  When the Black Dog arrives, I can feel him in the pit of my stomach, he doesn’t just ride on my back, he becomes an actual part of me, on a cellular level, he taints all the things that should be good, he makes everything so…. not good.”

So there is the Black Dog for me… and a lot of the above is probably on a good day.

Somedays I see the Black Dog hanging around in the back paddock and can scare him off.  Other days he attacks unexpectedly from my blind side with such ferocity and viciousness that there is not escape.  Some days getting out of bed in not an option.

I’ve slammed the cymbals together now and everyone is looking.  I don’t know if the noise of those cymbals scares off the Black Dog, but I know sometimes, banging a couple of things together just makes you feel better for not reason.

Maybe, being a better man, is sometimes, just about being able to tolerate yourself, so that later, you get to like yourself, then learn to love yourself..  and, that’s probably okay.

Better Simple

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Yesterday I was commenting to a mate that sometimes it is all too hard and too complicated to bother doing half the stuff we have to do just to survive in modern society.

In my last job the boss said one of his things was, ‘don’t make it too complicated – keep in simple’.  Funnily enough in that job we did that and got the job done.  The down side was that because we didn’t create any fuss, demand additional money, people, resources, complain at every meeting and constantly bitch about how hard we were working…. no one noticed. In that job, what was a great strategy, faded into non-existence because it had actually got the job done, without fuss (oh the irony!)

I started to think about the complexity of things.

I know there are a lot of complex things in the world, and lots of complex things need to be done in life (bringing up kids is no walk in the park!), but…..

I am sure that most people don’t want it to be that hard, yet ‘those people’ are often the ones that are making it hard.  It is a bit like, it is only hard if I have to do it, but, it is not hard if you have to do it; do you know why? because you have to do it, it’s not me.

When a person is requiring you to do things a difficult way, they will justify this as reasonable because that is ‘the process’ (I’m sorry but you can’t have the refund etc etc etc, until you complete this form which of course requires information you don’t have with you – and a DNA sample – all of which you have to travel home to get, again…. you can of course fill out the form on line but that will require you sign up for a new account requiring the verification of identity which you can only do ‘in store’…. fucking kill me!)

Where was I….

…. this is the process or their job, or they don’t make the rules and they have been told it must be done that way (have you ever said these things and realised how stupid and obstructionary you sound – probably not).  In addition, when you explain the illogical nature of what they are asking, they mostly can not understand what you are talking about.  They don’t know why it is stupid, unnecessary. More often than not, they can not even explain what happens next and why you are doing it in the first place…. is this you, it has been me.

It is usually, if they can not explain why they want you do some obscure process usually for the age old reason of modern logic which is, because that is the way It has always been done.

Is the entire world going insane and not actually realising it, because insane (complicated) is the new NORMAL.

I think being a better man means I will be the one that doesn’t do this anymore. I don’t think I want to be ‘those people’ or the infamous ‘they’ (whoever ‘they’ are – perhaps I am they?). But, I suspect I will have to notice I am doing it first……

 

Better Tempered

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Apologies for the heading of this post but it is not about the angry type of tempered, although maybe it is.

I like (love actually) to write in my Journal.  some of the ‘greatest’ entries are late at night in a fit of fatigue, or returning home after a few – nothing like the actual musings of a drunk who thinks he’s being profound.

I have stopped drinking and texting, and most definitely drinking and Facebooking (the last time I did that I woke up the next morning with only 25 of my 200+ friends still on the list – embarrassing recollecting them… what reason do you give… I dropped you when I was drunk and I had a moment of clarity – great!)

I love to get on a roll when I am writing.  Sometimes if flows and sometimes it just stalls on page one – even line one….

Its like the metal sometimes cools before I get to shape it…  the moment is there and then it fades away.

Letting the metal cool…
Things remain the same when this happens
Even when the metal is hot, unless force is applied, nothing changes
It just remains the same
Apply heat, or cold and there may be the expansion or contraction
But when the heat or cold is gone, it is just the same as before
You have to keep on the heat, or keep on the cold,
Or, apply that force, for the change to remain the same
You have to decide if the change is what will become normal
Is it the temperature, or the force
And in the end is it just a change, is it just a bend
Are you stronger than before, or just different
Is the metal tempered

I wrote the above in one of those ‘profound’ moments late at night and resurrected it today.  Sometimes I am not sure if I am writing a poem, a verse or a muse – and I am not too sure if I actually know the difference (No, I am pretty sure I don’t.)

Maybe the changes we go through have to be a combination of the hot and cold and the bends in our lives.  I think that we also get a few dents along the way that it doesn’t hurt to repair when we get the opportunity – maybe in one of those hot or cold moments.

Maybe the tempering in the metal of our lives is really not about the end result, but about the way in which we change and how we deal with that change….. of course, that is for those who even notice.

I suppose being a better man is sometimes about being a different man, or is it about being the same man better.

 

Better People

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I spent most of the week thinking I can’t work out why people do things;  why is there so much confrontation, bitterness and such a toxic environment in my work.   I have never been able to work out what motivates people to strive for more, when they have everything; to suppress people they already have power over;  and what motivates people to have more and more of something they could never possibly use (power or money).

I am writing this post after a particularly hard week which changed in the blink of an eye.

I was driving along gripping the steering wheel a bit too hard, in heavy traffic in the city, ruminating about something that I now can’t remember – but I can tell you I was right about my ruminating, I knew I was right because I was angry about it!  Every wrong that had happened to me in the past was flashing into my head in the stop-go traffic.  I was the only decent driver on the road at the time and all the pedestrians should have been driving because their presence on the road was shitting me.  I was profiling and judging everyone, past, present and future – all bad.

I noticed a very well built middle eastern man walking along the street (muscles from steroids I surmised) wearing a tight T-shirt (which was too tight and just his way of being a complete poser).  He stopped at a sausage sizzle (I remembered, I hate sausage sizzles as the sausages are always cold and overcooked and the onions aren’t cooked enough) and bourght a sausage in bread (so much for the healthy body builder diet) and walked off down the footpath.

I was just about to lose interest (he had shit me enough already) when he hesitated as he passed a homeless guy who was sitting on the footpath.  The homeless guy had a small sign which they guy stopped to read.  He then took half a pace to walk away and stopped again.  He then turned back and handed the homeless guy the sausage in bread he had just bought.  The homeless guy smiled and nodded and the meat headed body builder in the tight T-shirt who seconds before I had hated for no reason, became a Saint.  I didn’t see the face of the bodybuilder guy as he walked off, but I am sure it was a whole lot better than the face I had looked at him with.

I didn’t see the lights change a first as I must have got something in my eye as they were a bit watery.

Just when I am not being the better man, I see the better man walking down the street.

Maybe looking for the better man is not always about looking inwards and making it all about me.  My bad week, just became a good day.

 

Better at Bad Weeks

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I had a bit of a bad week, that, didn’t turn out to be that bad.

At the moment by biggest worry is worrying about why I am not worrying.

I had to have a sit down and think about this a bit.  It came down to a number of things that I have had as my mantra for a while, the most important being:

BE PEACEFUL

It is pretty hard to be peaceful when shit is rolling down hill and you suddenly realise you live in a valley.  But peaceful is what I decided to be this week.  I say this at lot lately… “I decided” because I think this is the thing that we forget to do a lot.  I am pretty tired of thinking that other people are responsible for how I feel; because if you do that you lose control of your life.  It is my decision as to wether I am going to be peaceful or not.  This week that is what I decided, again and again, when the peace was slipping from me.

As a result I hit the weekend and looked back over my week.  I found that although the week was not a highlight in my year I was better in a bad week than sometime I am in good weeks.

I think it was all to do with how I looked at it; and more importantly how I decided to respond to it.

I think it’s am achievement to be a better man in bad weeks – and I’m going to take the credit.

 

Better at Adversity

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Adversity has the same effect on a man that severe training has on the pugilist: it reduces him to his fighting weight.  (Josh Billings,  1818 – 1885)

Some days when you are planning for the future, the past comes and slaps you in the face.  Often what you think you got over, to get to where you are now, just got piled up in front of you… but, much bigger, much steeper, full of barbs and traps.

Maybe though, the barbs are just regret and the traps are ones you set for yourself a long time again.

But, no matter what, adversity grinds you down.  It’s just a matter of how you look at it when you get to the last of your strength.  Has it reduced you to your real fighting weight or are you going to chuck in the towel.

…… and I think it comes down to one thing: character.