Laziness is Just Resting Before You Are Tired.

 I awoke in a cold sweat, I was in the middle of a terrible dream, a recurring nightmare. I remember when I decided to get myself into university, even though I had left school with no qualifications. I managed it and then the real work began. In my first year on the course I had to get Hebrew and Ancient Greek up to higher level. Now for somebody with no language skills that was frightening. So all those years later I still from time to time wake up in fear that I may not pass that examination, even although I in fact did.

It was hard work and it has obviously had its toll. Would I do it all again? Yes I would, without a shadow of doubt.

Yesterday I saw two things that made my heart heavy. Not far from me lives a lovely family. The children each day set off to walk to school at a brisk and impressive pace. The journey is just over a mile, but I am sure by the time they got there they were awake and ready for a day of learning. The eldest child has become age to drive, passed the test and got a car. She now drives to school taking her younger brother with her. I leave you to ask if this is progress.

The second thing at first made me laugh, but on reflection was really even worse. I was out having a pre dinner walk. A car drew up at the gate of a house on the road where I was walking. The driver blew the horn twice. As I passed the car the window was rolled down to allow the driver to discard her cigarette butt. I heard her say to her friend on her cell phone, “I am out at the gate waiting for you.” Now before you think the gate was a long way from the door of the house let me tell you it was no more than 20 metres.

Having seen what the lack of exercise can do I find it sad that the most familiar smell for so many young people today is the smell f the petrol station.

Reminds me of the tale of the professor who handed out the end of term examinations. At the end of the allotted period he gathered them in. On one of the examination papers he noticed a $100 note attached with a note saying, “A dollar a point.” On the day he handed back the papers he handed out that particular students work with an envelope containing $64 dollars change and the awarded mark 36. The note also said you only get what you worked for here.

There is a beautiful Chinese proverb that says, “Man stand for long time with mouth open before roast duck fly in."

Now before anybody accuses me of being on my soapbox accusing the young of sloth, let me assure you I am not. I read the other day that the trend for longer life is slowing down as the activity of people slows down. I just find that so sad when life is such a beautiful thing and we should want to live it to its full for as long as we can.

So let me end I hope with a smile, and a friendly dig at my own age group.

A visitor said to her hostess, "What a beautiful vase. What's in it?"

"My husband's ashes," she replied.

The visitor said, "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know he had died."

"He hasn't died. He's just too lazy to find an ashtray."



For every person on the ladder of success there are twenty waiting for the elevator.

I hope you have a lovely and a fruitful day, and I know all who will read this will do just that.

This blog is linked to my other blog.  Hands That Can Do It

Those Who Serve Often Go Unnoticed.

I was walking along a really rough boulder strewn track. It was wet, having rained heavy most of the night and still it was raining. Parts of the path was thick with mud. I was well prepared, I had run this very track earlier in the day and so I was prepared. Coming towards me was a man carrying a heavy bundle of sticks. Each stick had a small flag attached to it. Every so often he would stop and secure the flag to a spot at the side of the track. He was wet, cold and covered in mud. We spoke and he told me that the next day there was to be a cross country race and that he was out marking out the route.

The next day the race took place. The runners set off at a great pace and from start to finish they followed the flags. At the finish line of the race people gathered to welcome home the runners, cheering them over the finish line. Standing at the back of the crowd clapping was the man I had watched the day before. I wandered over and said to him that I thought he had done a great job the day before. The race had gone smoothly because he, without thought of thanks had done his bit and prepared the route.

I remembered the story of the young boy and the Knickerbocker Glory, This was a large ice cream with fruit. A 10 year-old boy entered an ice cream parlour and sat at a table. A waitress came over to serve him ( do you remember the days when service was the name of the game?). “How much is an kickerbocker glory?” he asked. “5shillings” replied the waitress. ( This was in the time when that would be five weeks pocket money.)

The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied the coins in it.

“Well, how much is a plain dish of ice cream?” he inquired. By now more people were waiting for a table and the waitress was growing impatient. “Three shillings” she brusquely replied.

The little boy again counted his coins. “I’ll have the plain ice cream,” he said. The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and left.

When the waitress came back, she began to cry as she wiped down the table. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two shillings. You see, he couldn’t have the knickerbocker glory, because he had to have enough left to leave her a tip, and he wanted to do things right. Acknowledging the service was part of the way things were.

We have lost the art, to a great extent, of appreciating things done for us. Day in and day out the little acts of kindness go unnoticed. Because they do they also get less and less, and we all lose out in the end.

Each act of kindness acknowledged will lead to another one tomorrow.

This is the way of the Tao.

This blog is linked to my other. A Day That Only Got Worse

Why Do Some People Always Complain?

Today I have added two pictures to this blog of a beautiful little inn I came across when on holiday. It was at the end of a long and fairly arduous walk so it probably look and felt more comforting that it was in reality. The ale I had was probably not any better than many others I have tasted over the years but it did seem to hit all the proper spots, and bring a much needed feeling of wellbeing.

Yes I did still manage the odd visit to a little local hostelry even though my mission was to lose weight and get fit.

The one thing that spoiled the place was not the hard stone floor, it was not the somewhat smoky log fire, it was, in fact, having to listen to the loud conversations of two people who did nothing but notice all the faults of everybody and everything.

As I walked the rest of my journey home I thought of the story of the couple who pulled into a petrol pump station, I think some of you may call it a gas station. The story is as follows.

After the pleasant and helpful attendant had filled the petrol tank, she very kindly wiped and washed the windshield. When she finished, the driver stuck his head out the window and said, "It's still dirty. Wash it again."



"Yes, sir," the attendant replied. After she cleaned it a second time, the driver said, "Don't you know how to wash a windshield? It's still filthy. Now do it again!"



The attendant scrubbed the windshield a third time, carefully looking for any messy spots she might have missed. By now the driver was fuming. "I can't believe you are so incompetent that you can't even do a simple job like cleaning a windshield! I'm going to report you to your boss!" he had of course forgotten that the attendant was not in fact obliged to wash it.



His wife, who up till that point had remained calm and silent, reached over and removed his glasses. She wiped them clean with a tissue, and then put them back on his face.



It was amazing how clean the windshield was!



Sadly there are so many speck inspectors in the world, ready to criticise everybody and everything. As I looked at the two sitting in that lovely little bar I wondered how many skeletons lurked in their cupboards.



Critical people always finds things wrong with others because they are looking through the dirty glasses of their hearts.



When our love for others decreases then our criticism of others can only increase. When our love of others increases our criticism will in turn decrease.

When we cherish the love offered strangely we have so much more to offer.

Now would it not be lovely if we could all bloggers together meet in this little inn for a chat and sharing session.

This is the way of the Tao. The Moron of the Glen.

What Every Woman Wants.

It was a raining wet and windy day and I was beginning to wish I had stayed in bed with my book. Then two things happened that changed the whole day. As I ran up a muddy track towards the lake a farmer approached in his equally muddy defender truck. He stopped and rolled down his window, “Good morning, I did not know Jimmy Saville had a younger brother.” Now for those who do no know Jimmy Saville was a DJ famous in the 60s. He was also known as an inspiration to so many people, taking part in marathon running well into his late sixties, and even now still turns up to encourage others. I felt I had been paid a compliment indeed.

The second thing that happened was the sight of the lake. It looked magical in the rain. As I ran along the rough track at its side I could imagine the lady of the lake reaching her hand into the air with Excalibur.

I began to muse over that story of loyalty and love. Now before I tell you the tale let me emphasise I am not being at all sexist in my telling of the tale.

The tale is this.

The young King Arthur was ambushed and imprisoned by the monarch of a neighbouring kingdom. The monarch could have killed him but was moved by Arthur's youth and ideals. So, the monarch offered him his freedom, as long as he could answer a very difficult question. Arthur would have a year to figure out the answer and, if after a year, he still had no answer, he would face death.

The question he had to answer? What do women really want?

Such a question would perplex even the most knowledgeable man, and to young Arthur, it seemed an impossible query. But, since it was better than death, he accepted the monarch's proposition to have an answer by year's end.

He returned to his kingdom and began to poll everyone: the princess, the priests, the wise men, Merlin and even the court jester. He spoke with everyone, but no one could give him a satisfactory answer. Many people advised him to consult the old witch, for only she would have the answer. But the price would be high; as the witch was famous throughout the kingdom for the exorbitant prices she charged.

The last day of the year arrived and Arthur had no choice but to talk to the witch, she agreed to answer the question, but he would have to agree to her price first. The old witch wanted to marry Sir Lancelot, the most noble of the Knights of the Round Table and Arthur's closest friend! Young Arthur was horrified. She was hunchbacked and hideous, had only one tooth, smelled like sewage, made obscene noise. He had never encountered such a repugnant creature in all his life.

He refused to force his friend to marry her and endure such a terrible burden; but Lancelot, learning of the proposal, spoke with Arthur. He said nothing was too big of a sacrifice compared to Arthur's life and the preservation of the Round Table.

So a wedding was proclaimed and the witch answered Arthur's question thus:

What a woman really wants, is to be in charge of her own life! Everyone in the kingdom instantly knew that the witch had uttered a great truth and that Arthur's life would be spared. And so it was, the neighbouring monarch granted Arthur his freedom and Lancelot and the witch had a wonderful wedding.

The honeymoon hour approached and Lancelot, steeling himself for a horrific experience, entered the bedroom. But, what a sight awaited him. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen stood before him. The astounded Lancelot asked what had happened

The beauty replied that since he had been so kind to her when she appeared as a witch, she would henceforth, be her horrible deformed self only half the time and the beautiful maiden the other half. Which would he prefer? Beautiful during the day, or beautiful during the night?

Lancelot pondered the predicament. During the day, a beautiful woman to show off to his friends, but at night, in the privacy of his castle, an old witch? Or, would he prefer having a hideous witch during the day, but by night, a beautiful woman for him to share wondrous intimate moments?

Noble Lancelot said that he would allow HER to make the choice herself. Upon hearing this, she announced that she would be beautiful all the time because he had respected her enough to let her be in charge of her own life.

There is nothing greater than having a friend who has chosen to be your friend with no persuasion on your part.

Such is the way of the Tao.

This blog is linked to my other. Where Do I Begin?

There Are Some Things You Just Have To Do

 I have returned from my week in the mountains. I am sorry that this blog is the first for sometime. I was able to get an internet connection but it was so slow that posting a blog would have taken so long. I did manage to read some of your blogs but posting comments was again a long and laborious task.

I promise not to bore you with all the exploits of running, at least one blogger has told me not to dare. I would though like to post one blog to put the whole week into a context and thank you my blogging friends.

Some time ago I posted a picture of me running in a marathon. Susan made a comment that day about not imagining me looking like that. I really should have been honest and admitted that at that point of time I was not. I had before me a picture of me standing in a little Spanish village, looking a long way from that picture. Another blogger had been watching me paint on webcam and commented on my ever growing tummy.

When I stood on the scale it told the same story. I was also using in halers to help my breathing; using them to such an extent my doctor was getting concerned.

So a challenge was required and I had to get back to that picture Susan commented on. The challenge for me was to run and get my weight down to a point where I could consider running up mountains again.

So here we are. I have run my mountains. I have got my weight back to where it should be 34 lbs less than it was. I am running without the aid of an inhaler and considering the maps of mountains once again.

I need to thank you all who gave me the encouragement and incentive to get here. I think I am back to that picture if not maybe even fitter.

I have put both of the pictures on this blog. This was not an easy blog for me and now I will get back to my normal blogs as of tomorrow.

Now as one or two of you have been telling me it is time to get back to the art. I will.  More of that on my other blog.Pencil Factory