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Colette Nys-Mazure, Célébration du quotidien

Tonight I walked in front of this old school I used to go to many years ago. It’s still the same but with minor differences. The swing sets are gone. Some bricks are mildly undone.

I wasn’t the cool guy at school. I was the silent type. I was shy. During recess, I had some funny jokes to tell, and I was sure that they were funny, but I wouldn’t dare to tell them. At some point some cool guy would walk in and say something funny. I remember I wanted to be like them. I didn’t want to be bullied. I wanted to laugh and yell and act like a little man.

I remember this very cute and cool girl at school. I was so much in love with her. I think she was too. But there was this thing. This limit. She had cool friends and I didn’t. Sometimes she would reach to me. Sometimes she would come to me and talk to me but every time she would do this, some cool friend of her’s would jump in ” Hey, why are you hanging out with this weirdo? ” and she would leave with that person.

So I ended up watching her evolve as a young woman through the years. During high school she stopped coming towards me. We now were in separate classes. Sometimes I would sit in the cafeteria and watch her. Her boyfriends would never treat her right. I wanted to beat the hell out of them and save her. I knew I was able to treat her right. But I never had the strength. I didn’t have it in my arms, I didn’t have it in my heart and I didn’t have it in my soul.

Then I became very sick. I stopped going to school. I stopped going everywhere. I stayed at home. I read. I wrote. I listened. I watched. I began to think. By myself. I began to talk. I became stronger. Maybe not in my arms, but in my heart and soul. And that’s 2 out of 3.

As the years flew by, she went away like the others. I stayed here in my little hometown. I was alone, but I was also with myself. I found myself through these difficult years. I built myself. And now, here I am.

And there she is.

I just happened to realize another one of my clues of love: Where you see your individual fears and regrets being scattered away by your shared hopes and happiness, there you can find love.

I think that’s a good pointer to all kinds of love, especially friends or even among strangers with whom we resonate.

Just wanted to take a moment to share.

If you have something that is great and beautiful, why do you have to bother throwing it all away?

I don’t get those people, and myself as well…who at some points in life I just felt like having it all and I just ruined it for my stupid curiosity. I am not saying don’t take risks and the whole crap with a bird in the hand… I am saying if it works for you don’t be an idiot and push stuff or change stuff just cause you were wondering what would happen if because you might lose it all and you never knew what you had until it was gone.

We are now about to enter the state of make-believe. In this state we must make many assumptions, and suspend our disbelief for a time. I know I cannot make you believe anything. Choosing to believe is always a choice that you alone make. You, dear reader, have to decide for yourself whether or not something is true or fictional, real or unreal. I certainly do not expect you to believe this story is true, even though I’m pretending it is. We all know how to pretend. We do it everyday, each and every one of us. You may consider this to be –

Hanging On: The Author’s Guidelines

This particular land of make-believe is based on the spiritual side of man. The beliefs I am exploring within this story include the following: the possibility of intelligence, or a measurable amount of consciousness in all living things; the possibility for communication in the form of an exchange of information between the higher and lower conscious entities; the possibility of immortal souls, personal and unique to each individual, and existing within every human being; the possibility of three co-existing states, or three possible places where a soul might go in order to continue it’s existence after the material death of it’s host — Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory; the possibility that by some quirk of Nature a soul might get itself stuck, and may have to continue it’s existence for a certain amount of time in, and/or around the place that was once inhabited by it’s host, or possibly the actual place where it’s host gave up the ghost; the possibility of fallen angels, or free-willed evil spirits that can take possession, and therefore control a person’s body, override their psych, and change their personality. Their possessive capabilities may also extend into the plant and animal world. These evil spirits are not the same as human souls, although they are also immortal. They may leave off possessing a person/animal/plant all of their own accord, or they may be exorcised through the use of certain techniques; the possibility of a soul’s karmic responsibility for the actions taken by it’s host during it’s lifetime; the possibility of just reward and just punishment over a given period of time, a time during which the soul may progress from darkness into holiness by the means of sincere regret, all-out acceptance, willful resignation, personally directed forgiveness, and graceful redemption; the possibility of an omniscient, omnipresent, and benevolent God, or Force, of which we are all a living part.

*

The Legend Of The Hanging Tree

*

On the southern edge of Bedlam, back in 1869,  there stood a tall, old oak tree. It’s fame and glory stemmed from the fact that it had been host to a multitude of hangings. Conveniently situated not far from the Oregon Trail, and on the main road to the river, it had been used with regularity by enforcers of the law as the place to carry out justice to the fullest measure. The graveyard close by helped to increase it’s popularity. It quickened the entire procedure, for little time need be wasted between the drop and the burial.

In the year in which our story is placed, the mighty oak was thought to be approximately 75-80 years old. It’s height was estimated at 70 feet. As seen from afar, the crown appeared to be irregular in shape. In it’s asymmetrical pose, it leaned to the east, enabling itself to hang a few branches over and across the dirt road. These wickedly crafted branches shot forth from the tree’s most distinguishing feature, it’s lowest limb. This skinny, but sturdy limb jutted straight out from the trunk, whereas the rest of the limbs above it reached for the sky. Perpendicular to the trunk, it gave the tree a strange, peculiar look. It reminded the folks of a flagpole in the way that it thrust itself out from the main. Being only 10 feet above the ground, it provided a means for the simple task of tying a rope. Positioned 8 feet from the trunk, two side by side branches shot up from the limb forming a V-shape. In the middle of these two branches there was a well-worn ring where the bark had been rubbed off, the scars of it’s labor having been caused by the frequency of it’s usage.

All throughout it’s long, and storied history, this grand and stately tree had been fortunate in the fact that it had never succumbed to disease, nor had it ever been home to pesky insect infestations. Luckily for the tree, lightning strikes had let it be, whilst they struck and mangled many an other in it’s general vicinity. Natural disasters had left it alone. In their seasonable, cranky moods, the fierce and usually unrelenting tornadoes had steered clear of it’s steadfast location each and every time they’d made an appearance in the area. Because of it’s good fortune, the tree had stayed intact. Except for the leaves that it dropped in the fall, along with a few small twigs that it lost here and there, now and then, the tree had retained all of the parts it had grown up with. Perfect, whole, and complete, the oak had remained immaculate in it’s formation, having lived out it’s entire life in multi-dimensional tranquility.

We can hardly blame that old tree for it’s bad reputation. It had done nothing to deserve it. It wasn’t able to understand man and his ways. Absolutely, it had always acted as it should, in an appropriate manner, natural and common to it’s kind. Except for those times when men would come to swing on it’s limb, people shied away from it, especially at night, whilst all the rest of God’s creatures treated it with dignity and respect. It was said to be haunted. “Home to a hundred killer’s souls, or more…”, but the tree didn’t kill them. Quite to the contrary, it took and accepted those men’s souls unto itself. The tree didn’t know how, or why it did that type of thing, it just did. It thought all the trees around there were able to do it, and would act in the same way under similar circumstances, if given the opportunity. As far as the old oak was concerned, that’s what trees were for, that was their reason for living. From it’s very beginnings, this big, humble tree had maintained a neutral stance of equanimity, thus placing itself in the highest degree of servitude for the whole of mankind. It lived an amoral life. It could not judge between right and wrong. It had no such knowledge. It made no distinctions between the two. Time and time again, the souls of the innocent and the guilty alike had been welcomed into it’s inner sanctum.

In regard to the exact amount of men who’d come to their death by hanging from this tree, we have no accurate account. No official records had ever been kept. The tree had been used for that purpose long before folks moved into the surrounding area. There was this one old widow who said she’d lived around those parts her whole life. She claimed to know of at least one hundred hangings, but she’d been prone to exaggerate so often in the past, that people took everything she said with a grain of salt.  Her then deceased husband had been party to 50 hangings himself, or so she said. Furthermore, her father once told her that he had participated in, or witnessed a hanging on this very tree 30 to 40 different times. Some of these hangings had been done legally, the job having been performed and carried out to it’s conclusion by lawmen doing their duty. Some of these hangings had been done on the sly. People turned their heads and looked away at such times, not in a state of disgust, or what have you, but they’d learned that it was better not to impose themselves on those types of men, because that was just asking for trouble.

This is how the legend began. The rumors caught a ride on the word of one man. The rumor spread as rumors do, and shortly thereafter the story was true. This man, named John, had had a very nasty, and hateful trick pulled on him. It all happened one night about five years prior to the events of our story. Some rowdy, drunk cowboys thought they’d teach their ’sissy friend’ a lesson. They were out to avenge themselves of the monies he’d taken from them in a fair and square game of poker. They’d been playing in the home of one of these here cowboys. After the game was over, they accused John of cheating. “We oughta hang your ass for that!” said the leader of the gang, as he winked in jest to his comrades. All in a ruckus, they grabbed him up and forcefully led him out the door. They all put on a good act, and their overly sensitive ‘friend’ was truly frightened. The man of the house grabbed a rope and off they went, walking John towards the hanging tree. The man’s face was racked with terror. He stumbled along as he wept, but as they reached their destination, the men were witness to a great transformation, and a truly unnerving conversion experience took place right before their very eyes. John’s complexion had completely changed. He’d gone from terrified to peaceful, and from the paleface look of imminent death, to the beaming reflection of a magnified life, in just a matter of minutes. These cowboys thought the man on the brink of disaster, and called off the joke immediately. “We were just kidding around,” was their excuse. The man was never the same from that day forward. He later claimed to have seen his entire life flash before his eyes, but that’s not all. John also claimed to have seen the lives of a hundred other men who’d made that same walk in days gone by. He hung all the responsibility for what he had seen, and for what he had felt on the hanging tree. The oak tree had kindly fed him this information in such a way that it made him feel as if he himself were about to enter into it’s midst. This man had gotten the idea into his head that the souls of those men whose lives he’d seen were somehow inside the tree, and that’s how it came to be seen as haunted. The legend continued to spread it’s growth, as did the tree, year after year. It has been my pleasure to spread it around a little bit more, as I’ve done today.

]]> http://debsdailythoughts.wordpress.com/2009/11/22/regrets-ive-had-a-few-but-then-again-too-few-to-mention/ Sun, 22 Nov 2009 20:56:53 +0000 greenlasagna http://debsdailythoughts.wordpress.com/2009/11/22/regrets-ive-had-a-few-but-then-again-too-few-to-mention/

“Make it a rule of life never to regret and never to look back. Regret is an appalling waste of energy; you can’t build on it; it’s only for wallowing in.” Katherine Mansfield (1888 – 1923)

If this were only this easy.  I am forever being reminded of things done and undone that I should regret.  I am also told I should regret in the future things I’ve done today.

Why is it that the very people who hurt you the most are the ones who cause the most regret?  And why do people who you have hurt find it necessary to CONSTANTLY remind you that you are a pitiable person and should regret even having been born?  The most hurtful sentences in the human language begin with “Just when I thought..”, because there is always after that something you did that was horribly wrong, and unforgiveable, that will ruin something good for the rest of your natural life and that person’s life too.

Screw them all!  From today forth, I shall spend no time worrying about what I did or didn’t do before today.  If they want to wallow, I’ll not give them water to muddy their wallows.

I sometimes hope the world does end in 2012.  Then there would be no more regrets.

I hate myself.

I was stupid. No, infatuation made me stupid. I won’t call it love. You toyed my feelings. I will never forget the pain you’ve caused me. Call me bitter but this is how I really feel.

I’m over you. I’m just mad at myself for not realizing your fake intentions. You are the person I should trust the least. You are an animal who is driven by instinct. You are irrational and therefore the lowest creature I’ve met ever since. I’m so over you.

One day, I’ll get even with you.

–

These were the words I’ve written a month ago and have decided not to publish them. Now, I think and feel the same way. Nothing has changed; no matter how hard you try to ask for my forgiveness, I just can’t give it to you. It’s not because I’m still affected of what had happened, it’s a self preservation act.

What can I say? Now, definitely, I will change for the better. I will live life to the fullest and wouldn’t let anyone to pull me down – not even love or family.

I will fly.

*Graduation Creative Photo of mine

I should have stopped being in touch with you. I should have put an end to our relationship when I knew you got married. I shouldnt have allowed us to be in contact or meet up. I didnt put my foot down firmly. I always left a door open for you to walk in and walk out as you pleased. When I realized that we were unable to stay away from eachother I should have advised both of us into counseling or some therapy to fix our issues. Didnt do any such thing but kept going along with your plans. In the process I forgot to work on what I have or accept fully everything I have.

I had somewhat began to function normally and was making an effort to take care of my stuff and trying to be happy with myself until you ruined my peace. Giving me hopes that you need time to see if we can be together. You say that you are not sure what you want. Will going to the therapy give you answers? You say you are depressed and you need to be treated for that. So do you think if you get treated you can get over me and live happily? You dont want me to be in touch with you for four months or so, will staying away from me help you to see if you can be happy without me?If so, you would probably tell me this is over at the end of 4 months.

Why cant you just leave me alone? Lets assume this is over so we both can move on. Why are you making me wait and keeping me in the loop? You are so full of yourself.

Les vampires vivent la nuit, c’est bien connu. Et moi je partage leur sombre destin. La vie ordinaire défile à toute allure et ne laisse sur la langue qu’un goût fugace. Comment faire de ces journées laborieuses (ou non) autre chose que des heures qui se succèdent et dont la succession laisse le même souvenir qu’une clope de midi ?

Là est ma crainte suprême. Comment vivre le quotidien sans chercher à le fuir dans les refuges que sont le soir et les week-ends (en illimité bien sûr) ? Certes, pour certains dont le métier est la passion, la frontière est diffuse entre travail et repos. Moi-même je ne changerais de vie pour rien au monde. Néanmoins, ce n’est qu’en veillant jusqu’au bout de la nuit que j’ai le sentiment d’être libre. Alors que faire pour vivre sans en perdre une miette ? pour ne pas transformer ces journées en regrets ?

What if today was your last day, here on earth?