mindwarpfx
DAD
Social walls… moving into uncharted territory?
What exactly make for a boorish neighbor? Where is the solution? Alas, couldn’t a complaint just be an expression of dissatisfaction over some issue that could just as easily then be resolved as two adults? It seems we in modern society are just living a bit too closely to each other these days. Your life style, or mine, seems to be just rubbing people wrongly when the intention was never that. Or because we live too closely to each other we become aware of a neighbor who are a bit hypersensitive to often, or they’re real reason to live, is to become an Olympic champion complainer, complaining over little to nothing to you? Everyone has the right to live and let live, until that neighbor, who is happily willing to make an attempt to trample our rights, in the rigged exercise of their own.
Because our new modern homes are on postage stamp size lots that are close enough to lean out of our windows and be able to shake hands with each other. (Not a recommendation or an endorsement to make such an attempt) It can make for some neighborly challenges to say the least. Throwing into the mix of things an Olympic hypersensitive person, whose specialty is complaining, you may have just moved into uncharted territory?
When it comes to noise, what is a frivolous complaint, and what is legitimate? Isn’t loud noise loud noise—should it be blaring music, baying hounds, screaming kids, or screaming parents who scream loudly at their kids, those teen-aged drivers who rev their hot rods, or those old men with midlife crisis’s that now drive Harley Davison motorcycles, net alone rev them up late at night, or just an oversized flag snapping, crackling, those noises that one would make when the wind is whipping around? None of these are a laughing matters when one needs sleep!
At some point a reasonable grievance, expressed a bit too often, will bread resentments, creating a point where people may start building those social walls to protect themselves from the childish actions and reactions, to those noisy nuisances over just peacefully resolving them. One who causes extreme noise nuisance, the other who is perceived as a complaining noisy nuisance? All of these are nothing but intrusions on what the other person sees as being normal. When we are so close to the problem, it is hard to understand the problem, without also having an open mind to see it from the others point of view. So when is it a reasonable, making attempt to live within our own rights without seeing them trampled by those who are religiously rigged in exercising of their own at our expense?
A recent story had this person complaining, and wondering what to do?
“Our neighbor’s unusually large, illuminated American flag that makes so much noise on windy nights that we have to retreat to another bedroom to sleep? He refuses to take it down on even the most blustery nights, and it flaps loudly right outside our second-floor bedroom window. He has let us know that this is politically sensitive to him and I’m sure he would have no qualms about going to the local press if we were to formally complain. There’s apparently no town ordinance regarding this. What can we do?”
Your thinking, a loud, noisy, flapping, snapping whipping flag on breezy nights keeping tired, exhausted, physically spent people from their sleep, and a neighbor who is just got an attitude in resolving the issue? Really? It is true–but how would you all handle it? What is reasonable? What is the adult way of resolving it, or is there a resolution, or is the complaint just hypersensitive?
I heard a story once; where a kid kept kicking a football into a neighbor’s yard, then when screaming after it early mornings, most, if not every weekend mornings, just to repeat it all over again until parents got up to make breakfast. An annoying alarm clock to say the least. Over the course of a summer this was complained about, one neighbor to the other. These complaints were respectfully given, and ample time in resolving the nuisance was also given. The problem was those social walls as defensive actions were built one brick after the other, separating common sense from common decency. These neighbors hardly spoke with each other afterwards. The social walls, and how dar you talk about my kid that way, separated people for the most part in being able to get along with each other. I would hate to think if the roles would have been reversed, what the reactions would have been?
Slow to anger, these people didn’t wish to go to war with their neighbor, and true to form when the summer was over, it stopped! Until the next summer. A year older, and so much stronger, the boy kicked the ball onto the porch and added a loud thud to the screaming, that was also repeated several times each morning. Where was the neighborly respect for other people’s property? What would happen if the window would be broken by the ball? What to do, when each side sees the other as crazy?
Well, one day the boy left the ball on the front lawn. After dark the annoyed, went over and retrieved the ball. It would have been easy to keep the ball. But these parents would have just gotten another when the boy complained about not having a ball to kick around. These parents just allowed the boy to rule the roost. So (we will call the annoyed person Mr. X) Mr. X took the ball down into his basement and into his shop, and opened the ball up and filled it with rocks, closing it again careful to re-stitching the ball exactly as it was manufactured. Then he placed the ball back onto the lawn, exactly where it first was. Grandpaw…..excuse me….Mr. X never complained about losing sleep that night.
True to form the boy, ran out of the house on Sunday morning and hauled off and kicked the ball as hard as he could, as he had been doing all summer long. Instead of a thud of the ball crashing into the neighbor’s porch, it was ear-piercing screams of pain. Resulting from a broken foot.
From that time on Mr. X got a great night sleep, even on weekends. Problem solved.
Because this happened back in 1950 or so, the parents quietly just learned a lesson along with the boy, about treating your neighbors with some respect. Treating people in the same way as one would like to be treated. Is what people used to say when trying to instruct people on proper behaviours.
These days, people get litigious and sue! So what does one do now days with unreasonable neighbors, whether it is noisy balls being kicked early mornings, or those noisy patriotic flag flying neighbors that are allowing your sleep to be blown away in the wind?
Unlimited expectations
While fanning the flames of unlimited expectations, we must consider success comes from chasing our dreams even to the ends of the earth. We shouldn’t worry about the things that we do not control. But rather we should worry, about the things that are also in our power to control, yet we choose not too! Everyone has dreams of unbelievable fantasy’s, unlimited expectations of something more positive then what we are experiencing at the moment. But then while looking over the neighbors fence, at everything he or she may have. It will always seem so much greener then our own. It is best not to live on dream like fantasy’s alone. Dreams are ment to be the inspirations to our life’s work, in making todays dreams into tomorrow’s reality’s. Not all dream that grace our mindsets are destin to become reality’s though. Some are so outrageous that there is no way, it is ever going to happen. Unreasonable? Why? Could it be when we get older, we have just forgotten how to dream big?
Celebrating the kid in us all, I say ” GO BIG OR GO HOME! ” At least with our dreams. Remember when we were kids, somehow life was ment to be lived on the razors-edge of dream versus reality! Every problem is solvable! Every obstacle is small in size! Every goal is achievable! Because life is full of unrestrained, unlimited expectations.
When things don’t always work out in my favor! I often ask myself. ” What would my younger self do?”
I know it is somewhat stupid? Asking yourself such a question. But it is better than going with the first impressions of acting on first feelings, followed by the first impulsive actions that came to mind. Kids often just act out in this way, and ask their questions later. But life isn’t a multiple choice questionnaire, to be filled out with first impressions. Now is it?
It isn’t all that cool, for a grown man to throw a tantrum. Yet my younger self would have. Life just sucks at time. I’m finding out, asking what would younger self do? As a way of looking for some painless outcome to the problems of some hours ago, net alone the present problems. Refusing to contemplate what true potential outcome of what ever the answer is. In hind sight, what only seemed like it could have turned out better than it did.
Why is it more appropriate for adults to enter a room that appears empty, and out of frustration just scream out at the top of our lungs. Only to have our eyes adjust to the situation. Slowly at first untill they become fully in focus, seeing all the other people in the room. The first thing that comes to mind is making an effort for a neat coverup. Saying out loud. ” Tension breaker! ”
Everyone who is by now recovering from the yelling heart attack, that you equally distributed to them. Who are now looking at you like, “your crazy.” Seem to have calm down somewhat when they hear your excuse. It is suddenly more acceptable behaviours if and when the “Tension breaker ” excuse is used. Thinking. It could have happen to them I’m sure. They reason. So why not screaming adults in a room, it’s a tension breaker? Is it throwing a tantrum? Should it just be seen, to these same people as an opportunity to call the insane asylum, as fast as their fingers could dial their cellphones?
Why?
Okay, kids tantrums last longer I guess. But there is also yelling, complaining, excuse making, more yelling, kicking, throwing one self down, and finely playing the attitude card of, ” No one cares!” After all of that, then walking away pouting and muttering to ones self. That’s okay for kids. But insanity for adults! What I’m saying is ” Kids start out in life being insane? Slowly as they grow up they then gain some of their sanity? I guess we are all just on that razors edge of having sanity / or being insane! But for adults the tension breaker scream is shorter in duration. But isn’t it, also the same thing then as throwing a tantrum? Prehaps a shorter duration of such outbursts, is so the adult can also make a quick escape. Never knowing just when the men in white suits will arrive, with your straight jacket.
Is the need of a tension breaker just the same thing for the youngster, and the adult who is young at heart? With building pressures and frustrations, both reasonable, and unreasonable, the need of a tension tantrum / breaker, always ends with this kind of result. Because adult people who also use the tension breaker, must certainly have asked themself. “What would the younger self do? ” Relying then, on past experiences of simpler times to give some reasonable reaction to the situation.
Kids seem to learn by doing. Throwing the tension breaker tantrum doesn’t always work. Then finely it stops working all together. What gives? Those unlimited expectations just keep on coming though. Along with those frustrations. Because things are suppose too….
Take a deep breath and let it our slowly.
Kids insanity’s seem to comes and go at will. Mainly because kids are hard-wired to be curious about everything. Being frustrated about something one minute. Then look over here…. no over there… What is that… coud I play with that… Is mom looking? The thoughts are running wild, with the imaginations, that fueled the fires of creosote’s.
With age they seem to remember for a longer time just why they were frustrated and therefore are more willing to act out with some reason. The thought posses is not always reasonable though.This is the times when all parents are checking with themself’s and each other. Just to see if sanity still exists, or is that just becoming an unachievable dream. Not yet realized, by the adult mind. Parents who have fought with kids about the unimportant. Never seem to see that they are involved in some sanity testing, administered by the 3-year-old of the house. Parents who have fought the good fight, to a point of compleat and total exertion of energy. Stumble down the hallway, after the child has fallen a sleep. The parent has quietly escaped down the hall. Only to enter an empty room, so as to let out the silent rebel yell, of tension breakers, along with tantrum like gyrations, with the last of their energy.
At some point in a childs life-cycle. We adults have to explain, and teach rational thought, in dealing with some situations in life. Of course that’s when the child has also discovered the word and its meaning of ” WHY!” Is that, when the momentary lapse of reasons are thrown in to the wind. The common thoughts are then…” We as adults are at this point of loosing it and yet we are going to survive this ordeal. With all of our faculties in place, or we are going to be drinking heavily. In order to cover up our insanity. This also gives us the bad excuse of the alcohol made me do it. After all who wants to admit to, sanity is slipping away.”
Kids who have unlimited expectations, dreams, and fantasy’s to match ( Unrealistic ones, as well as some impossible ones to boot.) never see these dreams as being impossible. I’m sure the person that came up with. ” Don’t make mountains out of mole hills.” Was just a 4 or 5-year-old that didn’t wish to hear the answer given by their parents in response to something unreasonable. The answer being ” NO! ”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“Why?”
” Because I don’t have the money right now.”
“Why?”
Because I had to pay some other bills.”
“Why?”
“Because… Why don’t you ask your mom?”
How many times can the kid ask the question of “Why”? Why do I fall for that every time? Then answer it 5 or 10 or …..? See! They got me asking myself “WHY!” That’s the start of it all. Slipping down that slippery slope to the guys in the white suits. I was deep in thought, as what my next move should be?
When it comes to unlimited expectations. Why do kids change their minds so much with what they expect? It always starts off small and then, if you let them they can out spend the federal government in an afternoon, and still have more room to go for more before dinner. With the blizzards of ideas within their heads, where do they have the energy to throw a tantrum? When the expectations aren’t met, and the terrible answer still is ” NO!”
Remembering back to when it was time to get the family’s first pet, at the requests of our little bundle of joy. Yes this was the time when I had more of my sanity intact.
Grabbing my keys for the car we were heading out the door to buy, the goldfish. Half way down the stairs to the parking lot where the car was. It changed to…
“Let’s get a cat! They are fluffy and soft, not like a fish.” The excited voice expressed the unreasonable request, that was made by my little girl.
“Well I don’t know..” I was looking for the best excuse and fast. ” We don’t have a room for the cat. Yea! We need a house or something.”
“Well how about a dog then?” They are soft.”
She didn’t realize that they are one of the same thing. ” Well sweetheart we don’t have a house for a dog. They need a space to bark at mail-men.” I said. While climbing into the car buckling up with the seatbelts, then starting the car, and we were off to the pet store.
“Maybe we need to get to the pet store and take a look at all of the goldfish?” I suggested, as a way to get back to the fish for a pet thing. She didn’t look happy, but she was still quiet.
Pulling up to the pet store and I’m just looking for the closest bar by now! ” Yata, Yata, Yata, gotta go! The blizzard of ideas from your child is just too much. How are we going to…” I expressed to my wife with a good deal of frustration, yet holding back some.
She smiled at me and said. ” Lets just go in and see. It will be alright.” giving me a slight rub with her hand on my back, to calm me down some.
One hour later we were going home. We didn’t buy anything or so it seemed. My daughter was happy and just singing a happy song to her self, as we drove. My mind was numb and tiered of endlessly explaining to an unreasonable mind. That was full of thoughts of unlimited expectations.
” I’ll pick up the puppy from the store tomorrow on my way home from work.” My wife said.
“We bought a dog?” It was a flurry of open-ended ideas that were being tossed about in the pet store. I thought. ” When did we decide to get the dog honey?”
” Come on the dog is better idea anyway. She can ruff-house with it, and the dog can take it better than a cat. Don’t you think so?” She said.
“Well…” We bought a dog! I thought. Dogs bite! But then cats can scratch! “Okay then! You will get the dog on your way home.” I answered. Talking a deep breath. Trying to hold back from doing what younger self would have done an hour ago, and just kept it up for that whole hour. Taking another deep breath…..
Looking back using the rear view mirror. I could see my daughter singing. Little did I know that the blistered’s of ideas were still bouncing off the walls of the young mind. Not just the reasonable ones either. After all she had changed her mind from the goldfish to cat, dog, rabbit, rat, mouse, monkey, back to dog but bigger ones, next to the snakes, then to the horse……ect. I took a deep breath, as my tension breaker, and continued to drive home in silence.
tomorrow couldn’t get here fast enough. But when it did all unlimited expectations were released, along with the unreasonable ones as well. My daughter looked at the big box with holes all over it, with great expectations! She could hardly wait. But when the lid came off there was no describing it. The loudest of tension breakers of screams came from this little girl?
” A puppy! NO! Not a Puppy!” She screamed.
I tried to explain. ” We live in an apartment and… you should be lucky to have a dog.”
She wasn’t buying it. She looked at me with all the determination a little girl could. Then said. ” Tale it back! I wanted a pony!”
” We live in a appartement sweety. We don’t live in a house, or farm. A pony lives on a farm and dogs can live in a appartement.” It was like talking to the wall.
She wasn’t listening to me at all. Unlimited expectations said. ” My last request was a pony and a pony it should be or else! ”
My thoughts, only had questions. “What to do next?” The one question that won was… “What would my younger self do?” If you can’t beat them. Join them!
We both let out the loudest of tension breaker tantrum scream, followed by the full-blown tantrum of shaking bodily gyrations, untill exhausted.
At that point, the puppy came over to lick us up. The dog’s way of saying. ” Glad to be a part of the family. Now where is the cat to chase around? ”
With unlimited expectations the hardest lesson to learn is…”We must learn our limitations, to then be considered to have grown up into being an adult! Rather than just being insane.”
All the best.
The ride !
One of the greatest things for a kid in life, is being able to sprout some small wings of mobility through learning to ride a bicycle. Thinking back through your life, to the first bicycle ride you took by yourself. In that moment of time, you then realized you were having your first taste of what it surly must be like to be totally free? To feel the wind in your hair, along with the gift of imagination, imaging you were in the indy 500 bicycle race and pulling away from the rest of the pack. No small feat I’m sure in the minds of everyone, but you’re the fastest bicycle rider in the world. So in your mind this was just a different day, new adventure, a dream that was up to you and your bicycle to make it all happen. Just riding free and as fast, as your little feet could, or to the point of being able to just keep you’re little feet on the peddles to the very least. Yes to the young and the young at heart this was the best of times.
To your parents who were the guiding force to your first ride. Or who were the ones at least, who were holding you steady, by hanging on to the back of the seat of that bicycle. Giving you the fantasy of being the fastest in the world. They surly could have been in better shape, or was this the unseen force in the life of every parent. Because in the days before training wheels. This was the gift of teaching by experiencing for both of you. For some parents this was also the only exercise they could find, while still doing job one! Parenting! The parent that got this job also as a benefit, was the one who would be getting into shape. This usually also was the parent that was the most out of shape. So being able to teach this all important lesson of life was in both of your interests, to accomplish it as fast as one can. Life could then go back to being normal. Parents enjoying making new memories through observation parenting. Seeing their kids enjoying riding a bicycle, and for the kids enjoying life at the speed of their bicycles.
The course:
From the front of my parents garage there was a flat spot of road way. An easy place to get on and off a bicycle. From there, it was a short slightly up hill climb to get onto the drive-way. As a kid I thought this was the road, or the track of the indy-500 race, just where it was raced on. A dog leg left turn then needed to be made and then you had a 300 or 400 foot run with a slight downward sloping roadway. At the end of this run was a new slightly left turn that needed to be made. Not making this turn was sure disaster. The turn would put you into a soft grassy front yard to ride in, not making the left turn put you on an ever steeper down hill ride which ended at the real roadway and just passed that.. a lake. A sure crash! If you didn’t crash into a car on the road, or a car crashing into you. There was the drive way parking lot of the lakes boat ramp, and at the end of that water. All of this was going down hill at a steeper clip for a new rider.
But making the left turn put you into the grass. This too had a down slope going the same way as the drive as well slopping towards the left, down through the front yard towards the back yard. The back yard was the woods. The wild animals that lived in the woods were kept at bay by the barb-wire like action of the wild black berry’s growing at the edge of the woods. So at the bottom of the yard one would then have to make another left turn. This turn was just flat in train for a short distance, giving way to an uphill slope. In the middle of this slope one would need to guide their bicycle through a narrowing part of the yard between the back of the house and the detached garage. Once you got through this part you were back to the flat part in front of the garage. A slight left turn and your back at the starting point and ready for lap two in the big race.
The ride:
My Dad must have enjoyed getting in shape, or at least drew the short straw every time I rode. Dad would get out my bicycle and showed me how to check the tires for the proper air pressure. Helped me oil the chain, also checking to make sure the brakes worked. Just the ordinary safety checks one should do before the big race.
He would explain just how to find my balance on the bicycle and then placing one foot onto the peddles and pushing it down would drive me forward and then I would place the other foot on the other pedal. This pedal would be at the top of its movement, pushing this one would make the bicycle move forward some more. Now if I wanted to stop just turn the peddles backwards. He would demonstrate by getting me going and then telling me to hit the brakes. Bring us both to a screeching stop. I had this part down to a ” T “! My problems started when I had to make a turn, this is where I lost my balance. Going straight was somewhat easer now, less wobbly and more controlled. But on my turns? This was the light at the end of the road for my Dad. He was probably thinking he was in better shape in his life then ever before. Besides he could continue to get into shape by riding with me on his bicycle.
On this day or maybe all along. Dad would let go of the steadying action he was providing by holding onto the back of the seat of the bicycle. Letting me for short distances ride by myself, yet unknown to me. Even as he instructed me into making the left turn. ” No son! No! the other left! ” I still got these things mixed up in the excitement of it all. I finely made the turn. Now speed was picking up. I still was hearing my Dad behind me and his heavy sounding shoes, the noise they made as he was running behind holding the bicycle steady for me. But the bicycle was just a little wobbly not so bad this time. I thought maybe I could go still faster. Just enjoying my somewhat new-found freedom of speed on my bicycle. I really got going fast! I saw the end of my short trip on the drive way and now the turn I need to make into the yard. But with this kind of speed The turn was going to be interesting at best. But my Dad had my back or so I thought.
” Son! Son! Make the turn. Left turn! ” My dad called out. This was strange to me he always sounded so close behind me. But the sound of his shoes weren’t there either. What was I …
” Make the left turn son! ” Dad sounded excited. Was he happy for me, or was he scared because I was going faster than he could run!
I’m sure I thought Crap! I’m riding my bicycle by myself, but the turn!! Was I about to crash? Of course I forgot about the brakes. And my feet were going so fast. But not to panic, I can do this. I applied the pressure to the handle bars in making the turn. The bicycle responded, Up and over the embankment and into the yard still going down hill. This time steeper. This ment faster. My feet started to look like a blur, just moving faster and faster. Picking up speed faster now! The woods and black berry’s were playing a game of chicken with me. It was all about the will of the speed racer, ” Me ” and the next turn. As it turn out I no longer was able to hear my Dad calling out to me just what to do! I strained to pull on the handle bars to engage the turn. But the grass grabbed my wheels. The arch-enemy of speed and traction. I struggled with it, and applied more force from my small stick figure frame to over power the evil grass. But because my Dad didn’t cut it yet, it was longer then usually and wouldn’t let me make the turn.
With the fastest speed that I have ever driven before, I was no wimp! My choices were bail out and let the bicycle crash into the black berry on its own. Or be the true supper hero and yet over power the grass! “Now make the turn!” I commanded , and strained at the handle bars. ” Make the turn!!” Much like saving the world in the last seconds before true disaster. I was determined! And so I rode the bicycle into those black berry’s. I vanished! When my Dad finely got there He was laughing, and catching his breath all at the same time. Probably proud as a peacock as well.
” Did you like your first ride with out help? ” He called out to me.
I on the other hand was pissed off. “Just where was my Dad? Why didn’t he help me? Who was the wise guy to have invented black berry’s with huge stickers on them any way?” I yelled out. Everyone was getting the rath of me. For I had a temper, and this was just not cool.
The more I struggled to get free from the stickers, the more the stickers dug into me. Finely I got free. I was in the yard. My Dad was still catching his breath and laughing on the grass. He finely got me all cleaned up and retrieved my bicycle, getting some good scratches as well on his arms.
” Son you did it! You were riding all by yourself. ” He sounded so proud of me. He patted me on my back and said. ” Lets clean up your bicycle so you will be ready for the next ride. ” He guided me up the back of the last stretch of the run, back to the garage. ” You went so fast and all by your self. ” He said. Smiles just beaming on his face for me. ” So what do you think about that? ”
” It was good till the black berry’s.” I responded. Still pissed off. ” But why did those stupid wheels not turn for me? That stupid bicycle! ”
I was still being a normal kid. Not yet talking the role I played in the crash as I should have. But In the back of my mind. Glad I made the first turn into the yard, instead of just straight down the rest of the hill for a swim.
One of those files! Memories of my Dad, I can now put back into the exploding file cabinet.
Miss you Dad.
All the best!
previous post: The exploding file cabinet! http://wp.me/p1MnB3-1bW
Exploding file cabinet. take two.
Exploding file cabinets, like Life sucks at times. But making the best of it, is the only improvements we can make, while also living it to its fullest.
“Failure is not on my to do list today!” Quote mindwarpfx.
Yes it was a sunny day and I was moving. Not so bad to do on a sunny day, but moving sucks! Finding places on the truck wasn’t so bad, but time-consuming at best. Placing this over here because it fit better, and that one over there, and don’t forget to cover those things with a blanket just to keep from scratching things up. Oh Yea that can fit… Well the truck was full, I had one file cabinet to go! Jumping up in the back of the truck to re-arrange things, making some room, is when it happened. Like slow motion at first, out of the corner of my eye I caught the file cabinet going over board. With a thud, then a poof of papers, like leaves in the wind, my file cabinet has exploded on impact with the pavement!
Somewhat funny now to think about that experience, and I’m sure that you have some experiences like that as well? But the papers that were flying around in the wind like leaves. Are just like some of my memories of my dad. Life sometimes gives you experiences like tiny explosions. The kind of experiences that can be a disaster at the time. It’s just life, all you have is a mixed up pile of leave as memories, experiences, and knowledge that was passed down to you. It took the time to just file them away in your mind. But now your mind the file cabinet has exploded on impact of these experiences! But what happens when your world is turned upside down? When life is like your file cabinet exploding?
The exploding file cabinet syndrome! Yes your mind is just a file cabinet. You have all of your experiences tucked way in there. Everything that you have experienced as well as all that you have learned throughout the years, good or other wise. Placed just so into files in your mind. When you have more experience, or memories with one person. Then you’re mind opens up the file, and you’re subconscious files the memories away, into those files just inside your mind. So if you wish, you can access them when you remember these times and events. But when a tragedy strike’s like the passing of my Dad… well, some times the files and the cabinet just explodes! Memories and events are not the same any more. The ones you wish to re-examine latter are just like… ( Where did I put them ?) kind of out-of-order. It is more like a fading picture that was left out in the sun to long. The colors are all faded and only the strong / bold ones remain. You remember the times, but the details are fuzzy, faded, you fear is their lost, or forgotten, gone forever!
So what do you do? Picking up the papers from the true file cabinet was easy, but the sub conscience ones are just impossible, or so it seems at times. But the mind is a wonderful thing. It has a reset button in it I’m sure. Over time you remember pieces and put them back into the proper files in your mind. Some times it is like just having a thought of … Oh yea. Then a simile comes over your face and your mind has already placed the memory back into the proper files. At other times you get together with family or friends, and old memories of events are revisited, and in that proses other memories come back to you, some you will share, others are your to keep to yourself. The point is it takes time. Nothing is lost for ever! It may seem like it at first, but it is only still a thought away. With the proper stimulation your files are rebuilt. It is only when we choose not to revisit those memories, as well as repeatedly make the choices not to revisit them with family and friends. That’s when the old picture that are faded, seem to fade bit by bit. Ultimately those memories fade away totally.
To remember our memories that we have is a good thing to do. It may unleash tears of pain or joy, as well, get you to miss people’s allot, or is it just the times, the ones we shared that miss? But these things are you’re experiences, as well as what makes you who you are. The files we keep may become messy, but we can clean them up. If missed placed them? We can find them! Keeping in touch with family / friends rebuilds them. If the pain is to great or to negative in remembering, just let the wind take the negative away! In the end we will over come, our file cabinet explosions!
Cheers 2 YA DAD! Missed but never gone!
all the best!
Exploding file cabinet !
Yes it was a sunny day and I was moving. Not so bad to do on a sunny day, but moving sucks! finding places on the truck wasn’t so bad, but time-consuming at best. Placing this over here because it fit better,and that one over there, and don’t forget to cover those things with a blanket just to keep from scratching things up. Oh Yea that can fit… well the truck was full, I had one file cabinet to go! Jumping up in the back of the truck to re-arrange things, to make some room, is when it happened. Like slow motion at first, but the file cabinet was going over board, with a thud and then a poof of papers, like leaves in the wind, my file cabinet has exploded on impact with the pavement!
Somewhat funny now to think about that experience,and I’m sure that you have some experiences like that as well? But the papers that were flying around in the wind like leaves. Are just like some of my memories of my dad. Life sometimes gives you experiences like tiny explosions. The kind of experiences that can be a disaster at the time but then you realize it, it’s life, and all you have is a mixed up pile of leave as memories, experiences, knowledge that was passed down to you. You took the time to just file them away in your mind. The file cabinet. But what happens when your world is turned upside down. Your file cabinet explodes?
The exploding file cabinet syndrome! Yes your mind is just a file cabinet. You have all of your experiences tucked way in there. everything that you have experienced as well as all that you have learned through the years, good or other wise. Placed in files in your mind. When you have some more experience, or memories with one person. Then you’re mind opens up the file and you’re subconscious fills the memories away, into the files in your mind. So if you wish, you can access them when you remember these times and events. But when a tragedy strike’s like the passing of my Dad… well, some times the files and the cabinet just explodes! memories are not the same any more. The ones you wish to re-examine latter are just..( Where did I put them ?) kind of out-of-order. It is more like a fading picture that was left out in the sun to long. The colors are all faded and only the strong / bold ones remain. You remember the times but the details are fuzzy, or your fear of them faded, as being lost, or forgotten, gone forever!
So what do you do? Picking up the papers from the true file cabinet was easy, but the sub conscience ones are just impossible, or so it seems. But the mind is a wonderful thing. It has a reset button in it I’m sure. Over time you remember pieces and put them back into the proper files in your mind. Some times it is like just having a thought of … Oh yea. Then a simile comes over your face and your mind has already placed the memory back into the proper files. At other times you get together with family or friends and old memories of events are told, and in that proses other memories come back to you, some you will share, others are your to keep to yourself. The point is it takes time. Nothing is lost for ever! It may seem like it, but it is still only a thought away, and with the proper stimulation, your files are rebuilt. It is only when we choose not to revisit those memories, as well as repeatedly make the choice not to revisit them with family and friends. That’s when the old picture that is faded, Fades along with those memories untill ultimately they fade away totally.
To remember our memories that we have is a good thing to do. It may unleash tears of pain or joy, as well, get you to miss people’s allot, or is it just the times that we shared. But these things are, you’re experiences, as well what has made you who you are. The files we keep may become messy, but we can clean them up. If missed placed we can find them, by keeping in touch with family / friends. If the pain is to great or to negative, just let the wind take them away! In the end we will over come the file cabinet explosions!
Cheers 2 YA DAD! Missed but never gone!
all the best!
mindwarpfx
mindwarpfx 