Tears For Fears - Sowing The Seeds Of Love

Another favorite that inspires me everytime I hear it. Enjoy!

Tears For Fears - Shout (Official Music Video)

I call this the primal scream song. At least that's how it was for me when I first heard it in 1984. There was so much turmoil in my life at that time. I would often just drive around the area where I grew up and if this song came on the car radio, I'd turn up the volume and just sing at the top of my lungs. 

Tears for Fears remains one of my all-time favorite bands. There are so many catchy riffs in their songs that draw you in and never let go. Even now, forty years later, I'm still hooked on their songs. Next one up (in the next post) is Sowing the Seeds of Love, another favorite. 

Trying to understand the mystery of life

Apropos my last post, where I talked about accepting some things in this life (like my faith) that I know I will never understand on this earth; Henry Miller wrote about his way of looking at the world and trying to understand the mystery of life. He came to the conclusion that he would never understand everything, but that didn't stop him from trying. That's a beautiful way of looking at the world. 

He wrote: 

I have a theory that the moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself. I have tried this experiment a thousand times and I have never been disappointed. The more I look at a thing, the more I see in it, and the more I see in it, the more I want to see. It is like peeling an onion. There is always another layer, and another, and another. And each layer is more beautiful than the last.

This is the way I look at the world. I don't see it as a collection of objects, but as a vast and mysterious organism. I see the beauty in the smallest things, and I find wonder in the most ordinary events. I am always looking for the hidden meaning, the secret message. I am always trying to understand the mystery of life.

I know that I will never understand everything, but that doesn't stop me from trying. I am content to live in the mystery, to be surrounded by the unknown. I am content to be a seeker, a pilgrim, a traveler on the road to nowhere. ~Henry Miller

(from Henry Miller's book: Black Spring)

Odds and ends, part two

As I get older, I am more willing to accept that I won't get the answers I seek, particularly where faith is concerned. Faith is a mystery that I will never truly decipher. My faith in God has wavered from time to time up through the years. Ditto for my desire to attend Sunday mass. But I've realized that I won't get firm proof that God exists; he/she is not going to suddenly appear before me (like in the story of doubting Thomas) and convince me that way. So I accept God's existence on faith. Attending mass is similar; I go, no matter how I feel. Ten to fifteen years ago, I often wondered why I should go to mass when so many things seemed to be topsy-turvy in my life and definitely in the world. Not anymore. It's become something I do without thinking about it too much. That works for me. I like being there, being part of something larger than me. Being together with (presumably) like-minded people, in the sense that they are also believers. Even if they aren't, it wouldn't change my wanting to be there. I've realized that I can just offer up who I am on any given day--happy, sad, moody, bored, angry, irritable--and hope that I am acceptable. Being human means being imperfect. That is my reality, even though I try hard each day to be the best version of myself (as Matthew Kelly says). 

I watched the film Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret from 2023 last night. It's a touching, funny and sweet story about a twelve-year old girl on the cusp of adolescence, and how she deals with life at home and in school. The film is based on the book of the same name by Judy Blume; I never read it when it was published back in 1970. Margaret is the daughter of an interfaith marriage--Jewish father and Catholic mother, but neither of her parents are religious and they have chosen to raise Margaret without any religious affiliation. She does however hope to eventually find some sort of religion to belong to. She is assigned a school project that allows her to explore different religious beliefs, which she hopes will give her some idea of what religion to eventually embrace. She does talk to God however, telling him about all the things that are happening in her life and sharing her joys as well as disappointments. Abby Ryder Fortson did a wonderful job as Margaret, as did Rachel McAdams as her mother and Kathy Bates as her grandmother.

I also watched the film Dog from 2022 with Channing Tatum the other night--also very good. He played a former Army Ranger suffering from PTSD who wants to return to military duty but whose superiors deny him that chance due to his condition. However, he agrees to bring his former partner's dog Lulu to his funeral (he has committed suicide) as part of a deal for him to return to active duty. Lulu is anxiety-ridden and aggressive (suffering from a kind of PTSD too) and destined for eventual euthanization, and the trip from Oregon to Arizona is fraught with different problems and troubles along the way. It's a beautiful story about the bond that forms between man and dog, and how they both save each other. 

I've spent the past four days without tv news of any kind to invade my life. Bliss. I don't want to know what's going on in the world because I know it's the same old, same old--wars, aggression, conflicts, shootings, murders, political divisiveness--the list is long. And the news media love reporting it all; sometimes I get the feeling that 'the worse, the better'. I know that's cynical, but hey, the news media are cynical institutions. You get back what you give. 

I haven't been on social media much either. Also bliss. I don't really miss it. As I've written about before, I'd remove myself from most of it if it wasn't for the fact that friends in the US still use it. It's a way of staying in touch with them, although these days we mostly chat via Messenger and WhatsApp. 

The scowlers

I could have entitled this post The Scowls. The furious looks. The dissatisfied men. Two angry men--Donald Trump and Tucker Carlson. Because they are angry. But why are they angry? What do they have to be angry about? They are two very wealthy men. They are privileged. They live in a rareified atmosphere that few will ever experience. They don't have to get their hands dirty. They can do what they want when they want. Tucker Carlson once worked for Fox News until he cost them more than they could reasonably defend. Ah yes, Donald Trump--well, what is there to say? He speaks for the common man, Donald Trump does. He knows what it's like to walk into a grocery store and pay through the nose for food. He knows what it's like to struggle to pay a mortgage. He knows what it's like to be a common everyday man or woman. 

I am simultaneously fascinated and repelled by their public displays of anger. Who are these men fooling? Certainly not me. When I look at these photos, I have to laugh. Can you imagine having to live with them? Wake up with them each day, looking at their sour pusses? Dealing with their feigned anger? Heaven forbid. And yet, people are drawn in by their theatrics. They believe their empty promises and lies. 

These two men come to mind whenever I need good examples of grumpy old men and scowlers. They've perfected the art of scowling. I'm not sure if Trump's scowling will net him a second term. Carlson has more to scowl about after his embarrassing interview with Putin and his debacle at Fox. But why doesn't their wealth make them smile? Since they're all about the money, I would have thought their money would have made them happy, much like Scrooge and Scrooge McDuck. 

Perpetually-angry people bring to mind the Aesop fable The Boy Who Cried Wolf. The shepherd boy kept 'crying wolf' (lying) about a wolf attacking his sheep, and the townspeople always rushed to help him.  But when he cried wolf once too often, they got tired of his false alarms. One day a wolf really did show up to attack and devour the sheep and the townspeople ignored his cries for help. Perpetually-angry people should realize that their constant yelling will make others lose interest and sympathy. Maybe some people like listening to the same manic complaining every day, but most of us don't. We learn to ignore them and their anger. As a friend of mine used to say to her husband (now ex-husband) when he yelled at her for trivial reasons--'I don't hear you any better when you yell'. I feel the same way. If you raise your voice to me, I quietly consider my options. I can tune you out while you're yelling; I'm a master at it from my schooldays. Or I can leave the room. I simply don't want to hear what you have to say. And that includes angry politicians and tv personalities and their nonsense. 

Odds and ends and updates

During Lent last year I read the New Testament and was glad I did. I am trying to read the Old Testament this time around, but it's tougher going. It's really about vengeance, an eye for an eye, the victims wanting the victimizers to suffer and wanting God to avenge them. There are prayers to God for exactly that. It's also an interesting history of the area and time that led up to the life of Christ. One thing I can state with certainty--the atmosphere of the Old Testament is just about the polar opposite of that in the New Testament. I prefer the latter. 

The world is not fair, even though deep down we expect it to be. That expectation hits the wall of disappointment time and again during our lifetimes, but we do not give up the hope that one day justice will prevail. However, I don't find myself praying for vengeance on those who have wronged me. Somehow, that in itself feels wrong. But I do find myself rather happy when 'what goes around comes around' for some people. Karma is a bitch sometimes. 

I am trying to curtail my involvement in all things digital. I am taking stock of what gives me the greatest joy, and it is hands down writing this blog. I've been writing it for almost fourteen years now and have not grown tired of it. So I'll continue writing and posting. I remain on Facebook because I live abroad and it is a way of staying in touch with my American friends from childhood, school days, and previous jobs. I post updates now and then, but nowhere near as often as I used to do. I am also on Twitter and am considering closing my account there; I use it to promote my books, but it hasn't been very helpful in that regard. Otherwise, it is a forum that purports to present all sides of an issue, but who can really tell if that is true anymore? Sadly, what is presented there just doesn't 'ring true'. Facebook and Twitter are not places to go to for objective news stories. I knew that from long ago and it's only gotten worse. Additionally, the AI algorithms on Facebook and Twitter learn what they can about you and present you with ads and information about groups and sites that may be of interest (to you specifically). They tailor the ads to your gender, age, and interests. It's boring. 

I recently stumbled upon a handy new website called Early Bird Books. It is described as follows "Early Bird Books is a popular online platform that caters to book lovers and avid readers. With its user-friendly interface and extensive collection of literary works, Early Bird Books has become a go-to destination for those seeking literary inspiration and entertainment". What it does is provide a daily email list of discounted Kindle books available on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Google, Apple Books, and Kobo. Since I do purchase a fair amount of Kindle books, I checked out their selections, and I've already used it to purchase three Kindle books. Two of them are by an author called Miss Read who wrote a series of wonderful books about a middle-aged unmarried school headmistress in a small English town during the 1950s. The series follows her life in the small town of Fairacre, a town populated with men and women of all walks of life. I remember my mother reading books by Miss Read when I was a pre-teenager; she loved them and now I know why. I've only read two of her books, but can recommend them highly--Village Diary and Farewell to Fairacre (a nearly perfect book in my estimation). They would not perhaps strike a chord in everyone, but they did in me. I loved 'visiting Fairacre' each evening to meet up with her and her friends, listening to the local gossip, and admiring her patience in dealing with all those villagers who wanted to marry her off to the local bachelor. I wish there were more books written in this style. They are escapist without being isolationist; Miss Read is a part of the world around her, albeit a small part of the world--a little village and a small school. Reading her books has also been a way for me to reconnect with my mother who died in 2001. She would be happy to know that I have enjoyed these books as she did. 

I am now reading and enjoying Stephen King's On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. He published the book in 2000 after he was hit by a car in 1999 and nearly died. My cousin Cathy recommended it. I am learning about his approach to writing at the same time as I am learning about the man. An interesting combination. I've read some of his books (Salem's Lot, Cujo, and Doctor Sleep) and have otherwise seen the tv-series Salem's Lot and the films The Shining and The Shawshank Redemption (probably one of my all-time favorite films) based on his books. 

I need to get back to my own writing. I've been 'on a break' as they say, after having written quite prolifically before Christmas. I need to get into the swing of things again. 

Wise words from Mary Oliver

Mary Oliver is one of my favorite poets. She was fully connected to the nature around her and was from a very young age. When I read her words, they pierce my mind and heart with their clarity and wisdom. We don't have time to waste in our lives, and yet so many of us do. We waste time on social media, we waste time watching one tv show after another. There is nothing inherently wrong with either social media or tv. It's when we devote hours of our day to them when we could be doing something else, something that might bring us closer to the people around us or to the spiritual or to the natural world. She writes about getting started on belonging to the world, but for her, that world was mostly the natural world. I am also so inclined. There is so much to discover in the natural world, and I've written a lot about that since I became the caretaker of an allotment garden in 2016. I know that one cannot live life as a hermit or hide oneself away, but we have to respect the individual choices that people make about how to live their lives. We cannot force introverts to be extroverts, or extroverts to be introverts. We cannot force those who love urban living to love rural living, and vice versa. And so on. We are where we are for a reason, and we can make the most of each day that is given us in that environment, no matter how difficult. We each have to find our own way of belonging to the world and use our god-given talents to join the world. That will be a different road for each person. The important thing is that one contributes to the world in his or her own unique way. 

Mary Oliver writes: 

I know, you never intended to be in this world.

But you’re in it all the same.

So why not get started immediately.

I mean, belonging to it.

There is so much to admire, to weep over.

And to write music or poems about.

Bless the feet that take you to and fro.

Bless the eyes and the listening ears.

Bless the tongue, the marvel of taste.

Bless touching.

You could live a hundred years, it’s happened.

Or not.

I am speaking from the fortunate platform

of many years,

none of which, I think, I ever wasted.

Do you need a prod?

Do you need a little darkness to get you going?

Let me be as urgent as a knife, then,

and remind you of Keats,

so single of purpose and thinking, for a while,

he had a lifetime. 

~Mary Oliver

(from her book: Blue Horses)

(She mentions John Keats (1795-1821), who was an English Romantic poet who died of tuberculosis when he was only twenty-five years old. A reminder that we don't always know if we have a lifetime or not to achieve our dreams and visions. As I am fond of saying--If not now, when? There is no time like the present to start doing. As the Nike ad says--Just do it). 

Wise words from Matt Haig

Apropos some of my previous posts; Matt Haig sums it up beautifully when he writes that 'happiness isn't very good for the economy'. I would go one step further and say that the media is invested in depressing us. Why? I would guess it has to do with ratings, because the more we watch, the more brainwashed we become, and then they can sell us whatever world view they wish to push on us. They have an agenda for sure. On social media, it has to do with clicks that are given to each article posted. All of the clickbait stories bring in revenue for the advertisers. Again, we’re back to money. How cynical the world has become.

Matt Haig writes:

"The world is increasingly designed to depress us. Happiness isn't very good for the economy. If we were happy with what we had, why would we need more?

How do you sell an anti-ageing moisturiser? You make someone worry about ageing. How do you get people to vote for a political party? You make them worry about immigration. How do you get them to buy insurance? By making them worry about everything. How do you get them to have plastic surgery? By highlighting their physical flaws. How do you get them to watch a TV show? By making them worry about missing out. How do you get them to buy a new smartphone? By making them feel like they are being left behind.

To be calm becomes a kind of revolutionary act. To be happy with your own non-upgraded existence. To be comfortable with our messy, human selves, would not be good for business".

(from his book: Reasons to Stay Alive) 

John Steinbeck quotes

In uncertainty I am certain that underneath their topmost layers of frailty men want to be good and want to be loved. Indeed, most of their vices are attempted short cuts to love. When a man comes to die, no matter what his talents and influence and genius, if he dies unloved his life must be a failure to him and his dying a cold horror. It seems to me that if you or I just choose between two courses of thought or action, we should remember our dying and try so to live that our death brings no pleasure to our world. 

If you're in trouble, or hurt or need - go to the poor people. They're the only ones that'll help - the only ones.

You know how advice is. You only want it if it agrees with what you wanted to do anyway.

No one wants advice - only corroboration.

We spend our time searching for security and hate it when we get it.

Time is the only critic without ambition.

A journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it.

The writer must believe that what he is doing is the most important thing in the world. And he must hold to this illusion even when he knows it is not true.

I've seen a look in dogs' eyes, a quickly vanishing look of amazed contempt, and I am convinced that basically dogs think humans are nuts.

Men do change, and change comes like a little wind that ruffles the curtains at dawn, and it comes like the stealthy perfume of wildflowers hidden in the grass.

Restoring equilibrium and peace by not watching the news

It is easier than you think to kill the joy and spirit in others and in the society around us. For starters, just count up the number of feel-good articles that make it onto the news versus the number of articles detailing wars, rapes, murders, mass shootings, aggressive behaviors of all kinds (especially in politics), all sorts of upcoming diseases and epidemics, and all of the other assorted miseries that define our 'civilized' society. If you spent most of your free time reading or watching the news, you'd slowly go crazy. You'd at least sink into depression. And yet that's what many people do--allow the drivel that passes for news--to invade and permeate their daily lives. There is no peace to be found in living that way. A continuous presentation of bad behavior will alter your world view for sure. If it doesn't make you cynical, it will make you fearful. There are a lot of people who live in fear.  

I'm not saying we should shut out news shows completely, we cannot, but I am in favor of shutting out a large portion of them in order to be able to live peacefully and peaceably with others. Society is done no favors if its members are continually distrustful, fearful, and ultimately cynical about said society's capability to take care of them should real trouble arise. I think we have reached that tipping point. I don't see how falling into an abyss of despair and nihilism helps anyone. Yet that's what we're being tipped into en masse. 

The losses of joy and the spark that keeps us alive and moving forward are not trivial or banal things. What is the motive of the companies who present (their version of) the news? Do they want to inform or do they want to destroy the basic goodness in people? I have to ask that question. I'm not likely to get an answer, but I am aware that I am being played. And it's not a good feeling. I spent one happy day yesterday 'offline', as in, I didn't go near my computer nor did I watch any news programs. Doing that for one day restored my equilibrium. I'm going to do it more often. 

Snowdrops are the harbingers of spring

I can't wait for this miserable winter to be finished, done, over, caput. Hopefully it will soon be a distant memory, once spring comes and I can return to my garden. Today is a beautiful sunny day that reminds of spring. In the garden, the harbingers of spring are the humble snowdrops--so beautiful. It will be a while before they pop up in the garden (most of the snow has to melt first), but they don't seem to mind the chilled ground. 

I'm posting a a very nice little poem about snowdrops and a photo of them that I took some years ago. 

Have you heard the snowdrops ringing

Their bells to themselves?

Smaller and whiter than the singing

Of any fairy elves.

–Sydney Thompson Dobell (1824–74)

Winter prison

Normally I have always liked the winter season. I'm a person who enjoys all four seasons. I may not ski or ice skate during wintertime, but I've never been particularly bothered by the cold or even snow, as long as it's possible to get out and walk, and as long as the temperatures hover around freezing. Neither have been the case this year. 

I have disliked every minute of winter this year, especially during January and February. In December we are distracted by Christmas, thankfully. I am neither handicapped nor am I elderly. I can normally get around with no problems, and a little bit of snow on the sidewalks does not usually bother me. It’s when the sidewalks are sheets of ice, no matter where you turn, that my dislike turns to anathema. I've written about the build-up of ice and snow in Oslo during wintertime in previous posts during the past decade: A New Yorker in Oslo: Slipping and sliding away (paulamdeangelis.blogspot.com); A New Yorker in Oslo: The sidewalks of Oslo in winter (paulamdeangelis.blogspot.com); A New Yorker in Oslo: Clear bike lanes and icy sidewalks in Oslo (paulamdeangelis.blogspot.com); A New Yorker in Oslo: Why isn’t it possible to shovel sidewalks in this city during the winter? (paulamdeangelis.blogspot.com).       

The sad thing is that the situation hasn't changed much in the past ten years. Sidewalks are sheets of ice, some of the roads likewise. We're told to buy shoes/boots with spikes in order to walk on the icy sidewalks, which I find infuriating. These shoes are expensive and are often sold-out. They are also annoying to wear, as sometimes the spikes get stuck in the ice (meaning your foot gets stuck). I and many others have chosen to walk in the (for the most part, ploughed) streets rather than use the sidewalks. The emergency rooms are filled with people, young and old, who have broken bones from falling on the ice. Actually, I'm guessing it's mostly young and middle-aged people who have broken bones, because elderly and handicapped people are just plain trapped in their homes during wintertime. They don’t get out, and how they stand it, I don't know. I find it appalling that more people don't react, don't get angry, and don’t criticize the city government for failing to do the job they should be doing. You can find all these kinds of criticisms on social media post, where people vent and rant and rave, but the regular media--newspapers and tv--just seem to ignore the problem. We're constantly told that this is a winter country and that we should be used to snow and ice. Yes, that is true. And so what? If this is a winter country, that means that Oslo should know how to get rid of snow and ice on sidewalks. It doesn’t mean that the city has a free pass to ignore shoveling, salting, and setting out gravel. There is so much passing the buck in this city. The city government has a budget; that much I understand. But this is not your proverbial small town; this is a big city. People of all ages and people with special needs, need to get out to shop, go to doctors’ appointments, go to work, etc. Someone has to take responsibility. Yes, snow removal, salting and spreading gravel cost money. Perhaps more than what was budgeted. So what? Spend it. But they can’t, because they’ve already used up much of the budget to keep the bicycle lanes clear, so that the very few younger people who bike all winter long can do so without problems. God forbid they should slip and injure themselves. This is typical of the Green Party thinking that permeates this city. The main focus is on eliminating all dangerous emissions from fossil-fuel vehicles. That means riding bicycles year-round. Additionally, they've become obsessed with electric everything--cars, buses, scooters, etc, all of which function properly in the spring and summer months. But not during the winter months. Come wintertime, the bitter cold destroys the proper functioning of the batteries. So buses come to a halt. Trams and trains, which are electrified, have always had problems. Frankly, I used to care about climate change, but it’s no longer a main priority. I just care about having a functioning city during the wintertime, a city where people of all ages and with special needs can get out and walk, shop, take public transportation that actually functions, and use their cars if necessary. In other words, escape their winter prisons that have been foisted upon them by this city. 

There is always hope

 

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