Shouts From Down Under

Where have all the flowers gone?

This Queensland Drought scenery may be disturbing. View with caution.

Enjoy; Knee Deep


Do you ever feel that everyone's gone home, and you're all alone?

Well, you're not alone.

You are a writer, and unless you have dementia, or Alzheimer's disease, you have an unlimited imagination, full of very close friends.

Remember the times of pain, when you fell from someone's grace? When you stumbled away from the crowd, when you froze inside, when the tormentors surrounded, when you didn't have the courage to jump, when you were frightened, or when you were depressed because of your laziness or failure?

There are plenty of people who have been there, and far worse off than you. They battled through, and you know who they are, because of the depth to them. Yes, you know who they are, after just a while spent in their company.

Today I had a few ideas for blogs clamouring to be heard in my echoey cranium, but after a while I realised that life's not all about "blog subjects". It's about people, real people.

Lately I wonder who I've offended, hurt, ignored, mistreated, forgotten, and left alone to rot. Not intentionally of course, but if it has happened, then it has. It's there like a piece of road kill, back there in the past.
Sometimes others may have removed the problem, the offence; patched the damage, cleaned the road, moved on, even...forgiven.

And sometimes it's entirely out fault, yet they just calmly accept how it is, don't harbour the grudge that they probably have every reason to hold onto, and it's only yourself who has any loss.

I was thinking today of homeless people. Sometimes we can live in a crowd, be amongst it yet are homeless.

Self pity is one thing, but a feeling that we don't matter is another. It's like a festering sore, to think like that. It's a way of thinking that feeds on it's own negativity, gaining momentum until we believe our own garbage.

Microbes think we matter, even when we die, and afterwards. Not a nice thought, but the point is, we do matter, and when our mind starts trying to convince us that we don't then it's wrong. It has to be wrong.

Words, thoughts, that try to convince someone that they don't matter are plainly incorrect, no matter how convincing.

Our writing could be like that. Convincing to the point of bedazzlement, overwhelmingly factual to the extreme.

I enjoyed so much listening again to that winner of The Voice, who came from "street" experiences in the past, that I know nothing of, except some snippets during the program on TV when I was working in Queensland (2012).

Her singing, her vocalising of emotion and her colourful past surely evokes a deep engagement of our inner being. We relate wholly to her, another human, as if we were the closest of friends.

I suspect that is why some people become unhealthily besotted fans of celebrities. Unhealthily because the experience opens a yearning for that deep contact that they don't know how to access through normal socialising.

Karise Eden and that huge voice!

http://youtu.be/Qeoopfjfx2o

Sparky