What are you ... really?

 

What I will say next will prove uncomfortable to many people. Even Christians. That is because most of us, whatever our beliefs, choose in life not to think about this particular thing. We put it at the back of our minds. Yet, it is central to our very existence. Many claim they believe it, yet prefer not to think too much about it.

There is ... out there somewhere ... all around us, another world. An invisible world. A spiritual world. A world inhabited by living beings. Perhaps better known as spirits.

This is a fundamental basis of our Christian beliefs. When we recite the Credo we say, (rather glibly):

 I believe in one God, the Father Almighty. Maker of Heaven and earth, and of all things visible and invisible.

He has made everything. Visible and invisible. This bit is important. It says visible and invisible. Not seen and unseen. If I were to leave one room and enter another I become unseen. But I am not invisible.

The use of the word invisible is to underline the fact that there is an invisible, spiritual, world which we do not see. We are both visible in human form and invisible in our spiritual form - our soul.

There is also an invisible world of angels and spirits of those departed from this world; that is the souls of humans like us who have died. As well, of course, as the invisible Holy Spirit. The invisible God Himself and His Son Jesus, who is now an invisible spirit having departed this life as a human after His Human Resurrection. This bit is also very important. He died as a human. He was raised from the dead by God His Father. He was raised as a human and was seen by His disciples. He was then raised to Heaven where He is now a spirit.

In summary, there is a spiritual world. An invisible world inhabited by spirits. Even the devil and his demons inhabit this invisible world.

We are spirits. We are souls. Invisible souls. The only reason we can see each other is that our souls, temporarily, in this life, are encased in bodies. This is the bit that most people find uncomfortable.

They cannot distinguish our ever living invisible souls from our visible bodies. People see first of all our bodies, as we are born as babies, as we grow up and as we are throughout life. That's what they recognise in each person they meet. The body. Which is given a name at birth, which grows up and gets a job, starts a family or whatever. The body is what becomes recognisable in peoples' mind. Not the soul. Because we don't see it. Out of sight out of mind, as they say. People are recognised by their bodies, and their behaviour.

But it is the soul that initiates and controls one's behaviour. It is the soul, the invisible soul, that develops our character which is recognised by others. Not our bodies.

Our bodies are only a mixture of water, chemicals and minerals. When a body ceases to function it disintegrates and, as they say, returns to dust.

But the soul lives on. Many religions believe that. Many people think they believe that. But they don't give it much thought. Because it is too uncomfortable.

MORAL: By all means look after your body. But look after your soul even more.

À la recherche du temps perdu

 

 

À la recherche du temps perdu. In Search of Lost Time 

by Marcel Proust

There are times when we all sit back and reminisce on times gone by when things were different, perhaps better, or so we think, and definitely more normal; whatever normal means.

The other day, I was in such a mood of searching for lost time, or opportunities, as Marcel Proust wrote. My wife was in the kitchen preparing lunch and she asked me to help her. So I got out and sat in front of the TV so as not to get in her way whilst working. I think she appreciated that; although she did not say anything. 

I thought back to that day years ago when a lost sandal landed me in hospital. I'd been out shopping and bought this and that, some shirts, a pair of trousers, a pair of sandals and white socks, and so on.

On the way walking back, I stopped to search for something in my bags and discovered one sandal missing. I looked everywhere and could not find it. In sheer disgust, and in a fit of pique, I threw the other sandal away. I did what a reader of this Blog (Happyone) always does when she finds a lost glove on her walks. She puts it on a post by the road. So I put the remaining sandal by a letter box and continued home. I reasoned that perhaps someone might find both sandals and have a nice thing to wear.

When I got home and emptied my bags I found the other sandal which I thought was lost.

I rushed out in a hurry, running like a mad dog, tracing my footsteps for at least two miles, hoping to get to that letter box where I left the sandal.

It was not there.

I looked here, there, and everywhere, but it was not there. It was not here or everywhere either.

Inconsolable, sad and dejected, in no particular order, I made my way back home. Then I discovered that someone had put my sandal on a branch high up on a tree. They either must have climbed there, or someone lifted someone else up to reach that high. Some people have a weird sense of humour.

I jumped to reach the branch but it was out of reach. I climbed up the tree, missed my footing and fell hard to the ground. I was half on the side-walk and half not. At that exact point in time (À la recherche du temps which was the wrong time and place), a cyclist came at speed and ran over me.

I was hurt, scratched and bleeding, in whichever order you wish to consider it.

The cyclist was apologetic saying he never expected to run over someone falling from the sky. Technically wrong, but you get his point.

An ambulance was called. I was taken to hospital where a couple of nurses injected me with various injections in my backside as a precaution against all sort of bad things.

As my wife laid the table for lunch, I reflected on what I had learnt from that episode in my life.

Always wear clean underwear because you never know when you'll show your backside to complete strangers.

It is pointless going À la recherche of a lost sandal. Let bygones be bygones and never look back or else you'll walk into a lamp post or a tree.

Make yourself happy memories so that next time you reminisce you'll have a smile on your face rather than a pain in the backside.

As I Quote Myself

 

The one great, or should I say traumatic, memory I have about my period in London is about the day I was mugged. A young man held a plastic knife at me and said, "Your money or your life!" It took me a few minutes to decide what to do. I thought he said, "Your money or your wife!" As she wasn't with me at the time I did not see how I could make a deal.

He said, "Hurry up. I ain't got all day mate!"

I didn’t carry much money on me at the time so I gave him the only coin I had on me to save my life. It was a 50 pence piece. He looked at the coin in disgust and said, “Is that all ye got?”

I nodded silently and was very frightened. I must have cried a little because I felt tears trickling down my leg.

He pocketed the coin and ran away.

When I went to the police they asked me for a description. I told them the 50 pence piece was dated 2002 but unfortunately they never found it and returned it to me.

*******

I entered her hotel room and it was empty. I said loudly, "Hello ... anyone here?"

Her voice replied from the bathroom, "I'm in the shower. Come in!"

My boss had a certain reputation amongst the office gossip grapevine but I never quite believed it. It seemed that now was the time for me to sample such a reputation.

I did not know what to do, especially since my future career at this firm depended so much on her. I hesitated for a while.

"Get a move on," she cried impatiently from the bathroom, "I'm not going to wait all night!"

 Those were her exact words; I still remember them clearly. She obviously meant business and my future life flashed in front of my eyes.

I was totally confused. I sought guidance from my abbreviated Catechism which I carried in my pocket but I could not find an answer in a hurry. They really should have a better index in those books.

I took off my jacket and put it on the back of the chair. Then I took off my shoes. I had a big hole in one of my socks!

Before I could go on any further she came out of the bathroom fully clothed and speaking on her cell-phone. Apparently you get a better reception in the shower than anywhere else in her hotel room.

"Why have you taken your shoes off?" she asked.

"I did not want to dirty the carpet!" I replied unconvincingly.

 *******

Melba came to mind and I remember our first date when I took her to a French restaurant. She had frogs' legs; but the rest of her body was OK I suppose.

I had an open topped car at the time. A sporty looking little number. And I recalled how her hair used to blow in the wind as I sped up the highway. Then I had to stop and collect it for her.

She was a little rotund and she considered herself overweight - a bit like her mother. I remember well the first day I met Melba's Mom. There was a solar eclipse that day. They say if you want to know how your wife will turn out in years to come, just look at her mother. Well, Melba and her Mom were very large, to tell the truth; but I wondered whether Melba would have a moustache too when she got older.

Melba's father was often unemployed. He sat at home watching TV and expected his wife to do all the work and feed him. He was so lazy that if he ever fainted he'd need someone to help him fall to the ground. He once worked digging trenches on the road as part of a team so that engineers could lay in pipes, cables and so on. One day the team arrived and realised they had no tools with them. Melba's father phoned the depot and said they had forgotten to bring their shovels with them. The manager replied: "Never mind. Lean on each other in the meantime!"

Melba's parents lived in a small house ... so small that the mice were hunch-backed. And it was a cold and damp house too. There was a permanent rainbow in the kitchen.

Melba's brother, Ivor was an eighteen years old ruffian, who hung out with the wrong crowd. He was always up to trouble and to be fair to him he never knew what it felt like to be loved and wanted until  he saw his picture on the Police Notice Board.

He was arrested and taken to court for riding a bicycle without any lights on at night. In his defence, he said the bicycle had no lights on it when he stole it.

The Judge looked at him and recognising him he asked, "Have you ever been up before me?"

"I don't know," answered Ivor, "what time do you get up?"

 EXCERPTS FROM MY MEMOIRS

AS I QUOTE MYSELF

CLICK HERE

Piercings and Tattoos

 

On yesterday's post, Tom mentioned that he doesn't understand piercings and tattoos. I must admit that I personally do not understand the need for piercings. Maybe someone could explain. However, some tattoos, discreet and not too elaborate, can be OK. These days, however, you see people on TV with their whole chest or arms covered in tattoos. I'm not sure I understand that, although I guess it must be very expensive to do; and painful.

Here in the UK we have a TV program called Naked Attractions where people are chosen for a date based on how they look. Contestants stand totally naked (full frontal) and one person has to choose who to take for a date.

The camera gets close in to personal private areas and often you see tattoos and piercings in the most unexpected parts.

THAT ... I do not understand. Why have a tattoo or piercing there?

What do you think about tattoos and piercings?

Do you have any?

Where?

Newspaper Ads, Words of Wisdom

 

NEWSPAPER ADS

LOST - Small dog. Answers to, "Come boy ... here boy ..."

FOR SALE - Old bed 200 years old. Suitable for an antique lover, or similar age.

WANTED - Strippers. Experience of stripping machines an advantage.

EAR PIERCING AND TATTOOS - Ear piercing and tattoos while you wait. Any shape, any size, any where.

FOR SALE - Antique bedside table. Suitable for a lady. With thick legs and large drawers. 

JOB OPPORTUNITY - Sewing-machine mechanic to work in ladies' underwear.

SAINT VINCENT CHURCH - Don't let worry kill you. Let us help.

JOB OFFER - Wanted hair-cutter. Good growth potential.

WANTED - Someone to chew hay for a horse with bad teeth.

CINEMA POSTERS - And now, a wonderful movie about big colourful birds. From the makers of the Oscar winning film One Can ... we bring you the sequel ... Toucan!

This is a spectacular movie full of adventure. From the makers of Tim Buck 1 ... we are proud to present Tim Buck 2

Another great film success about colourful parrots. From the makers of Cock A One ... Cock A Two!

You'll love this film about the life and times of baby peas. From the makers of Mange One we present ... Mange Two.

And from the makers of Catch 21 we now present ... (you can guess, I'm sure). 

WORDS OF WISDOM

If you walk for ever you will never stop.

A man swimming in the sea is wet.

If you walk a mile in someone's shoes you'll be accused of stealing them.

It does not matter if your glass is half full or half empty as long as it does not leave a stain on the table.

To avoid a stain on the table place a coaster on your bottom.

Marriages are made in Heaven. Also thunder and lightning.

Is it ignorance or apathy that are destroying the world? I don't know and I don't care. 

As one door shuts another one opens outwards and hits you in the face.

Beware Long Hair

 

I've noticed that my beard grows much faster and much thicker than my other ordinary hair. I have a professional haircut by a trained gardener once a month. As a bonus, he also trims the hedges and tidies up the garden whilst he has all his tools and equipment handy. He really is adept with the hedge trimmer although you have to be perfectly still if you don't want your ear cut off. This would cause you difficulties if you wear glasses.

Anyway, whilst I have my hair cut once a month, I've noticed my beard grows much faster and needs cutting more frequently. Geoffrey Fordesque-Smythe, our gardener, has left me a pair of shears, or secateurs, for me to attend to the beard.

The other day I tripped on my beard and fell down the stairs. My wife asked me, "did you miss a step?"

"No," I replied, "I hit every one of them!"

As I got off the bus last week, the sliding door shut too quickly and trapped my beard. I was dragged half a mile to the next bus stop. The driver refused to give me a refund for taking me beyond my scheduled stop. In fact he insisted that I pay him extra. When I refused, he called the police. The police officer said we were splitting hairs and told us to calm down.

As I was confessing this particular sin of losing my temper on Saturday, the priest suddenly ran out of the confessional as my beard slipped under the door and he thought it was a furry creature. As I ran after him trying to disabuse him of his particular mistake and unwarranted panic, sadly, an old lady stepped on my beard and fell to the ground revealing her Victorian underwear. 

She was mortified, embarrassed and humiliated in no particular order; yet the combination of which led her to write to the Bishop complaining and seeking some form or restitution. Perhaps more lenient penances at future confessions.

The Bishop, who is young and clean-shaven, did not believe her story and demanded a photo of me and my beard as evidence. I refused to share what I consider to be a very personal possession. I think this Bishop will have a hard time entering Heaven when he meets the bearded St Peter and his namesake, St Thomas, who was also bearded too. As well as St Paul and some other disciples no doubt.

I Will Be With You