What gives me joy!

I have ever filled notebooks with my scribbles.  A dear cousin in N. Ireland, foolishly volunteered to store my diaries and notebooks when I left for Malta.  When I turned up with five huge plastic containers filled to the brim with writings, she coped really well and kept her promise to look after them all.  I did feel guilty leaving her dining room a quarter filled!  My favourites are the moleskin books and for some reason they need to be with squared paper not lined.  They have an envelope at the back for bits and bobs, they can cope with photos stuck in, flowers, cards etc and are pretty indestructible.  

When, I was at school and university there was a family tradition that my Dad would present us with a parker pen before an important exam.  My parents never asked any of us if we had done our homework.  They never pushed school work or studying as of vital importance at all.  Strange in a sense because they were both teachers.  So this purchase of a pen was the sole encouragement to excel.  It was all that was needed.  To this day I get excited by a new pen.  Full of hope for the future and armed to cope with it all.

My mother uses Oil of Olay and every baby I ever handed her was pressed lovingly to her cheek while she sang songs to them.  When they were handed back at the end of the day they all smelt of this cream.  They later brought out a new version with suncream and I tried it, but realised that it was the familiar smell that I associated with my Mum that made the difference.  So I am back to using  the original cream and each time I use it I remember all the love and closeness we have shared.  Why is smell such a powerful trigger to memories?

I discovered Bach rescue cream decades ago.  When any of my children fell and hurt themselves this was the stuff that was slapped on.  We called it a miracle cream and I was never sure if its ability to cure was psychosomatic or genuine.  All I can say is that to this day when I find an ache, rash or pain this is the stuff I rub on and invariably feel much better. 

Look to this day,

For it is life, the very life of life.

In its brief course lie all the

Verities and realities of your existence.

The bliss of growth,

The glory of action,

The splendor of beauty;

For yesterday is but a dream,

And tomorrow is only a vision;

But today well lived makes

Every yesterday a dream of happiness,

And every tomorrow a vision of hope.

Look well, therefore, to this day.

Such is the salutation of the dawn!

(A beautiful old Sanskrit poem) 

legacy of half nose and cups - lesson for the future?

Looking out from the saluting Battery in Valetta, Malta there is an amazing view and it is a lovely place to examine the oldest part of the city across the harbour.  I spent the day walking around the ramparts examining statues.  By definition they are there as a kind of legacy.  Erected in memory of an event/person/triumph.  However keeping one’s legacy is a tricky business.  Often history is reviewed and re-written the heroes turn out to be villains and vice versa.  Having a big ass statue you’d think would lend itself to a kind of immortality solid against the barrage of the passage of time.  But when revolutions happen statues are often the first to be hauled down.

So these structures embody more than we may at first sight think.  The public is a fickle beast bowing down to leaders and then in a flash hauling their images into the mud. 

There are degrees of course to such things.  Apart from political expressions/regime change etc there is also the sheer stupid vandalism of the ignorant.  I include, in that bracket, the destruction of The Buddhas of Bamiyan.  These were two monumental statues carved into the side of a cliff in central Afghanistan at an altitude of 2,500 meters (8,202 ft). Built roughly 1500 years ago they were dynamited and destroyed in March 2001 by the Taliban after the government declared that they were idols.  You have to just hold your head and groan at times!

In Malta the vandalism is small scale and vaguely amusing at times.  Note this impressive statue has a MacDonald’s cup carefully positioned.

Nearby the statue of another prone figure has been more abused with the statues nose half removed and his head marked with black pen graffiti.

I suspect we erect such things to claim a legacy and those who damage them are trying to make their own cheap mark in history.  A similar but more extreme mindset is found in those who assassinate the famous to earn their place in Wikipedia.  It has ever been so, small minds with aspirations of greatness.  In their ignorance they often leave behind a legacy of their own mindless destructive urges.  As if the world needs more visual reminders of those both high and low that have nothing to celebrate but the violation of person and place. 

The statues that are worth building are the ones that remind us of the loss of life that war brings or those that highlight persecution and real injustice.  They remind us of just how diabolical we humans can be.  A valuable lesson from history that should fuel our desire for a better future.