Spring cleaning in September?

It began simply. Over Sunday lunch my mum was trying to tell visiting family members just what she’d done the previous day. However, she just couldn’t bring to her mind the words necessary to describe exactly what she had achieved. Sitting beside her I felt deep sympathy because I too have reached an age when perfectly simple words do not bubble up when you most need them. My mum adopted her usual approach, in these circumstances, she pointed out of the window and said “I painted the thing below the kitchen window outside”. The ‘thing’ of course was the windowsill. She had spent a happy hour painting the mucky grey windowsill a blistering white colour. In fact, this cleanness she had appreciated so much she had decided to paint another object white as well. Sitting at the table, I felt quite sorry for my mum when the word ‘windowsill’ wouldn’t come up and wanted to rush in and provide it. But I have learnt that when you start to talk for the person, though you think you’re helping, you’re actually sabotaging them. Longer term they start to cease using this tricky language business and rely on you more and more for translation purposes. However, having struggled to describe the windowsill paint job the other painted object was even trickier. I felt genuine sympathy as I couldn’t remember the name of the thing she had painted either. So, I explained, she had painted white the cement inside the tyre wheel holding up the post with the clothes hanging above it in the garden. I had forgotten the word ‘rotary washing line’. Such is life at present! Just when I begin to feel sorry that life is so confusing and tricky for my mum I discover that life has snuck up behind me and is proving equally problematic for me. This amuses my mum who often tells me triumphantly, “You become like the people you live with, you know!” It doesn’t stop with language quirks. Last week I discovered my mum has started spring cleaning. I should’ve guessed when the week before she started painting the windowsill. But to be honest it was only when she cleaned all the shelves in the sunroom and all the material on a nearby trolley and the windows that I suddenly tweaked that this spring clean was a real thing she had begun. I remonstrated with her that this is the end of September, no time to start a spring clean, but she smiled and said confidently, “Better early than late!” Since then she has gone on to tackle the kitchen cupboards, the large corridor storage cupboard and all the drawers. It is exhausting just watching her busily hauling out, cleaning and rearranging stuff. By the fourth day I was caught up in her wake and I started cleaning the bathroom even removing shower doors to do it properly. It is a contagious thing this spring cleaning. The problem is once you start you suddenly realise how dirty everything has become. In comparison to the sparking clean surface you have wiped, the tiles above it appear yellow and grease stained. Once the walls have been bleached into shiny submission the skirting boards take on a disgusting complexion. And so, it goes on! Having cleaned some tiny aspect of the house with much effort we both have a ridiculous evening show and tell session. She shows me what she has done, pulling open cupboard doors to display ordered shelves neatly stacked and I point out my cleaning achievements to her. I suspect with time this will grow into routine mutual applause at both our efforts. At first, I was annoyed especially when my mum was totally exhausted and stiff with pain after each cleaning frenzy but now I can see why she is enjoying it. There is a deep satisfaction from seeing the visible improvement around one. We catch each other examining our own work already done with a slightly smug air. There is a momentum developing and I hesitate to say it but we seem to be getting slightly better and try to raise our game with each passing day. There is also the deep satisfaction that this spring clean has got to be the earliest we have ever attempted. For once we feel we have a head start on life, after all it is months and months until spring. The other joyous discoveries are that you don’t need to know the name of something to clean it and we are gradually finding things we thought we lost. “It’s time for a spring cleaning of your thoughts, it’s time to stop to just existing it’s time to start living.” Steve Maraboli

I wouldn’t spit on ye if ye were on fire!

There are expressions that are so colloquial even a person living in the region may not recognise them. It reminds me of my son who had been taken to a small mountain village on the island of Rhodes in Greece and was disturbed to find no one seemed to speak Greek. By now fluent in this language he found it disturbing that he could neither understand anyone nor make them understand him.  A dear friend of mine had taken him with her family to visit this remote village and was unaware of how disturbing Daniel had found each and every interaction. It turned out that particular village had a very heavy accent that even native Greeks would have found hard to follow.  This happens almost everywhere to some degree. Here in Northern Ireland, we have many expressions that are very confusing for outsiders. For example, instead of saying yes, we say aye (pronounced "I").  I remember visiting an elderly uncle, in Craigavon hospital, and having to translate for him for the local nurses who just could not follow his strong border accent.  There are many obscure expressions we use in Northern Ireland that when abroad I must remember not to use to avoid confusion.

Saying                                                         Meaning

What's the craic?                     What is going on?

Houl yer whisht                     Shut up and listen!

Boys a dear                     expression of surprise

My grandfather would greet us with this expression ("Boys a dear"), repeated two or three times when we walked into his home, and the delight in his voice as he said it was the most welcoming sound I can remember as a child.

Jammy sod                             Meaning a person is really lucky

                                                                    (usually resentfully said)

Scundered                                                    feeling disgusted and upset

Will you stop faffin about                     Would you stop messing about!

He seems dead on                     He seems a good person

We'll have a yarn                     We will have a good chat

I wouldn’t spit on ye if ye were on fire     If you were burning I would not waste my spit

                                                                     on you to put it out

I can remember an older guy in the school bus trying to chat up a schoolgirl and she responded with the devastating response “I wouldn’t spit on ye if ye were on fire” 

Would you look at that eejit     Would you look at that fool

It's pure baltic out there              It’s very cold weather out there

I'm foundered out here              I’m freezing out here

my nerves are up to high doh      I am highly stressed

Were you born in a field             Are you an animal that you don’t close doors

I fell in the shuck              I fell into a muddy ditch

I can recall visiting an aunt of mine who continued to herd cattle in the fields into her nineties and would rear grandchildren on her lap sitting beside a black range in the kitchen.  She used a massive coke bottle filled with milk with a huge teat to feed these babies and every year yet another baby seemed to replace the one that had grown.  She did have seven sons and one daughter and lived into her hundredth year.  I once remember her greeting us along the lane with a tiny muddy toddler in her hand saying she had just pulled him from the shuck!

I am absolutely boggin I am completely covered in mud/dirt

Catch yourself on! You cannot be serious!

Fancy a dander? Would you like a walk?

My father always told the story of a lad in his village who took his loved one for a daily dander.  They were engaged after 14 years of such formal walking out and to all accounts had a successful and happy marriage.  Courtship in those days was sometimes slow and steady.

Will ye quit your gurning! Stop complaining or moaning!

You better wind your neck in! I’m warning you to stop speaking like that!

 I'm dying for a poke I’d really like an ice-cream cone

When we visit a seaside town my mother, now in her 89th year, will often announce gleefully, “Shall we have a poke?”

Then, there are the particular expressions that were unique to my family.  My grandfather used these and I thought they were normal expressions everyone knew,

He’s a shit house rat The piggery had huge rats as big as cats and

                                                                were very aggressive so unscrupulous dishonest

                                                                characters that you should not trust were called this

Do you wanna grow a pig’s foot? If you don’t eat this food you will end up

                                                                growing a pig’s foot

As a child, if you were reluctant to clean your plate of food this expression would be whispered in your ear in an ominous tone by my grandfather.  I never understood the connection between not eating and the possibility of this deformity but the threat had its effect and no crumb would be left.  Rather than a long description of how healthy the particular food was this ominous prediction quickly insured no food was ever wasted.

The strange thing is that such different dialects are not only hard to follow but can lead to isolation or misunderstanding.  However, the words we use are just one aspect of trying to communicate. Almost every home has its own subtle peculiar language both in terms of vocabulary used, tone, volume and atmosphere.  Things that appear confusing to others just do not translate.  It is no wonder then that many of us struggle at times to get our message across.  Despite having the same basic language, we sometimes do not recognise the particular dialect being used.  Even when we know the dialect we occasionally don’t understand that family’s conversational norms.  Their sensitivities, their education level, the unseen conflict zones and their history of family communication. There can be no-go areas that can make a minefield into which you can stumble unaware.  This business of relating to others is a journey that real life is made of.  

There will be mistakes and misunderstandings but there is just so much to learn from this game and so much more to be gained than lost.  Everyone we meet is an opportunity that is infinitely precious if we are humble enough to see it that way.  Making communication work with others strengthens both their and our own abilities in many ways.  Having the empathy, sympathy, and insight to realise that it may not always run smoothly ensures we don’t give up at the first obstacle.  Just because we fall at a few fences does not mean we should quit the race.  It just means we may need more practice with a wider range of people over a longer time period.  Sometimes what we cannot understand with our mind, we can grasp with our heart and what we cannot feel with our heart we can sense in our soul.

“The soul has been given its own ears to hear things that the mind does not understand.” 

Rumi

Diogenes, his barrel and his brutal challenges from over two milleniums ago

The sun, too, shines into cesspools and is not polluted.

quote of Diogenes

Growing up in a small rural village high in the Sperrin mountains of Northern Ireland, Diogenes was a Greek philosopher my father mentioned repeatedly during my childhood.  Much we know about his life is unsubstantiated by historical data but this colourful character is so different and unique somehow you never doubt his existence. 

Diogenes of Sinope was a Greek philosopher and one of the founders of Cynic philosophy. He was born in Sinope (modern-day Sinop, Turkey), an Ionian colony on the Black Sea, in 412 or 404 BC and died at Corinth in 323 BC.

He has the most who is most content with the least. 

quote of Diogenes

He considered his avoidance of earthly pleasures a contrast to and commentary on the contemporary behaviours all around him. This attitude was grounded in a disdain for what he regarded as the folly, pretence, vanity, self-deception, and artificiality of human conduct. He hardened himself to the elements by by living in a large wine cask, owned nothing, and seems to have lived off the charity of others. He destroyed the single wooden bowl he possessed on seeing a peasant boy drink from the hollow of his hands. He then exclaimed: "Fool that I am, to have been carrying superfluous baggage all this time!”  He used to stroll about in full daylight with a lamp; when asked what he was doing, he would answer, "I am just looking for an honest man.”

According to a story, Diogenes was captured by pirates while on voyage to Aegina and sold as a slave in Crete. Being asked his trade, he replied that he knew no trade but that of governing men, and that he wished to be sold to a man who needed a master. Fortunately, a Corinthian man called Xeniades liked his spirit and hired Diogenes to tutor his children. 

The vine bears three kinds of grapes: the first of pleasure, the second of intoxication, the third of disgust. 

quote of Diogenes

It was in Corinth that a meeting between Alexander the Great and Diogenes is supposed to have taken place. While Diogenes was relaxing in the morning sunlight, Alexander, thrilled to meet the famous philosopher, asked if there was any favour he might do for him. 

Dioggenes responded, “I  have nothing to ask but that you would remove to the other side, that you may not, by intercepting the sunshine, take from me what you cannot give.”

Alexander then declared, "If I were not Alexander, then I should wish to be Diogenes.”

In his typical direct manner Diogenes retorted, 
"If I were not Diogenes, I would also wish to be Diogenes!" 

He was known for brutal honesty in conversation, paid no attention to any kind of etiquette regarding social class or behaviour and when criticised, pointed out that most of these activities were normal and that everyone engaged in them privately. Indeed, Diogenes challenged codes of behaviour in ways that would startle us still even today!  I give just one example but there are much much worse. 
Someone took Diogenes into a magnificent house and warned him not to spit, whereupon, having cleared his throat, he spat into the man's face, being unable, he said, to find a meaner receptacle.

Diogenes could provoke both individuals and society and did so all his life under all circumstances.  As he approached old age he did not change his ways.

Of what use is a philosopher who doesn't hurt anybody's feelings? 

quote of Diogenes

Scolded as an old man who ought to rest, he replied, "What, if I were running in the stadium, ought I to slacken my pace when approaching the goal?" To someone who declared life to be an evil, he corrected him, "Not life itself, but living ill." When asked from where he came, Diogenes said, "I am a citizen of the world".

As he reached the end of his life, he was asked about how he wished to be buried. He left instructions to be thrown outside the city wall so that wild animals could feast on his body. When asked if he minded this, he said, "Not at all, as long as you provide me with a stick to chase the creatures away!" When asked how he could use the stick since he would lack awareness, he replied "If I lack awareness, then why should I care what happens to me when I am dead?”

We are all, Diogenes claimed, trapped in this make-believe world which we believe is reality and, because of this, people are living in a kind of dream state. Although, he was thought by some to be mad, it must be said Diogenes was not the first philosopher to make this claim; Heraclitus, Xenophanes, and, most famously, Socrates all pointed out the need for human beings to wake from their dream state to full awareness of themselves and the world.

He once begged alms of a statue, and, when asked why he did so, replied, "To get practice in being refused.

quote of Diogenes

Religion, Rooster Cogburn and a lack of grit

In searching for progress we are sometimes nudged gradually, painfully in certain directions.  For me one of the earliest turning points occurred during my confirmation classes at my local Church of Ireland.  The clergyman when alone with a dozen 13 year olds, instead of preparing us spiritually, engaged in a bit of indoctrination instead.  He lectured us on the disgusting betrayal marriage to Catholics would entail.  He then proceeded to spout a narrow minded evangelistic agenda that even I, a fairly naïve 13 year old girl from the high on the Sperrin mountains, could not tolerate. 

His predecessor the reverent Wills had been a mild elderly man, with metal circular glasses, who lectured in his sermons with soft pleas for humanity and understanding of one’s neighbours.  My father had queried this gentle little man, during a visit to our home, to be more demanding in his sermons.  He asked him,

“Why don’t you tell them to not just love their neighbours, but tell them to love their Catholic neighbours in particular.  Don’t you think that’s what Christ meant?”

The tiny man had carefully wiped his glasses in his lap and said apologetically,

“Now, Mr Stringer, I have to be careful not to offend the congregation, you know yourself what people are like in these parts.”

Rev Wills raised his narrow shoulders in sympathy but continued,

“Sure, if I did anything like that, I’d be preaching to an empty church and what purpose would that serve?”

Having just watched John Wayne in True Grit, I listened to this conversation with disappointment and could not help thinking what the nice Reverent Wills lacked was grit.  I’d have preferred if he had mounted the pulpit, a bible in each hand, and blasted the church goers left right and centre (like Rooster Cogburn), whatever their particular prejudices.  

Unfortunately, his successor lacked the essential goodness of Rev Wills and his gentleness.  His sermons were full of hell and grinding of teeth for all sinners.  His children classes were sufficiently traumatic with their burning pits and devils with horns that I’m sure he kept psychologists/counsellors and psychiatrists in business for decades later.  I had been dragged, by my father, to Sunday School classes and services for years and had complained bitterly.  It was the confirmation classes perversely that really confirmed my suspicions that this man was not good.   So clearly did I articulate my abhorrence for the content of these confirmation classes my father accepted my decision never to enter church premises ever again.  I viewed this new clergyman with the distain I had previously reserved for villains in a Dicken’s novel.   It was hardly fair but adolescents are many things but not forgiving. 

When, I was obliged to attend weddings or funerals I did so out of politeness and respect.  However, I listened to the sermon like a literary critic finding satisfaction when he spouted something that I disagreed with.  When the clergyman asked the congregation to kneel or bow their heads in prayer, I refused to do either.  Instead, he and I would often find ourselves eyeballing each other across the bowed heads of the devout.  I cultivated an accusing stare while he had a bewildered look.  I was confident my stare told him exactly what I thought of him.  Hardly fair, I am sure he had more good qualities than I.  To my adolescent mind he had fallen short of St Francis’s standard and did not deserve my respect or ear.  Ah, the black and white clarity of youth.  There are not even greys, just right and wrong.  The good guys and the bad ones.  In a divided community between Catholic and Protestant I found myself examining both with forensic intensity.  There was so much this autopsy unearthed I felt like a coroner disengaged from both sides.  It was a blessing that my father read so widely as through him I had an appreciation of the Bible and knowledge of Buddhism, Judaism, Islam and Hinduism.  In our family, reading was an obsession, whether it was the Quran, the recently translated  Dead Sea Scrolls  or the writings of Zoroaster.   It has long shocked me how terrified people are to truly investigate.  To search for the truth.  To set aside petty prejudices and really look.  This independent investigation was a constant call to arms.  Truth becomes obscured by ignorance and gradually disclosed by rational effort.  It leds to an appreciated of the essential truths that all the main religions share.  It helps elucidate the qualities that are needed in society if we are to improve our civilisation.  There have been enough rises and falls of civilisations to chart the symptoms of deterioration.  Even without a historical perspective an examination of present day society would suffice to tell us we are on a downward curve. 

After fifty years I am no longer an adolescent and colours have entered my palate.  There are forces of disintegration all around and people’s lives are caught up in this old world order. That is being rolled up.  Look into any institution and you cannot fail to find the corruption just beneath the surface.  Even the most well-intentioned bodies are hounded to a standstill by persistent selfish agendas.  But, I am no longer hopeless or in despair.  There are worse days ahead I’m sure.  Human society will weather storms we cannot even guess at now.  The intensity of such catastrophes will serve to decrease the strange lethargy we are all afflicted with.  Perhaps, anything that serves to allow us to come forth from the sheath of self will transform not just us but society.   The degree to which we engage in building that noble society the happier and more positive our mind-set.  Fighting the forces of darkness is like trying to dam a flood.  Constructing our personal defences, uniting with others who share a vision for a better future is empowering.  Change is coming, we can choose to endure it or embrace the transformation it entails.  It had ever been so. 

In the second century the early Christians were the victims of persecution. Polycarp, the venerable bishop of Smyrna was arrested and imprisoned. While under guard he prayed so fervently and powerfully the guards regretted that they had been involved in his capture.  Later, called upon to recant his faith he refused. "Eighty and six years I have served Him, and He has done me no wrong", Polycarp goes on to say, “Bring forth what thou wilt."  This elderly gentle bishop in his nineties was burnt at the stake.  Talk about true grit!

I firmly believe we are designed to be noble.  To be better, than we can even possibly imagine.  In reaching that goal a new and better civilisation becomes inevitable.

Let each morn be better than its eve

"Let each morn be better than its eve and each morrow richer than its yesterday."

You get up and hope that the day ahead is better than the one before.  Not in some vague wishing good things for the next day for yourself, but more in the desire that whatever the next day brings (good or bad) you will find something within to face it with grace and dignity.  It is not about what comes to us, it is all in how we deal with what comes that matters.  That is the nature of this game of life we all play.

"Man's merit lieth in service and virtue and not in the pageantry of wealth and riches."

It helps to realize the purpose of our lives and what it is not about.  If life is about service to humanity then the acquisition and display of wealth becomes rather a distraction to the main goal of being here.

"Take heed that your words be purged from idle fancies and worldly desires and your deeds be cleansed from craftiness and suspicion."

When I think about words, how they can hurt others, be fuelled with all kinds of desires, no wonder our deeds inevitably reflect our ulterior motives and doubts.  So we need to choose our words with care and make our deeds worthy.

"Dissipate not the wealth of your precious lives in the pursuit of evil and corrupt affection,"

Time is so precious and how easy to waste it on passing fancies that make a mockery of the reality that the only real wealth we have is our allotted span of time on earth and what we choose to do with it.

"nor let your endeavours be spent in promoting your personal interest."

If we focus only on what we want, what we feel, who we are, then we fail to see the horizon out there and lose our way on a comfortable circular path of selfishness.

 "Be generous in your days of plenty, and be patient in the hour of loss."

Perhaps the only real measure of a character is not what we do in good times but how we cope with the really bad periods.

"Adversity is followed by success and rejoicings follow woe."

It is the nature of our lives that, like our landscape around us, there are hills and hollows.  It is a truth that sometimes the hollows are more like deep dark endless ravines.  But they give us a valuable perspective on life and when you emerge from a deep dark valley the sunlight feels so good!

"Guard against idleness and sloth, and cling unto that which profiteth mankind, whether young or old, whether high or low. "

There is a strange lethargy that can steal from you, your rightful birthright.  This is not something you must guard within that others may take from you.  It is the strange ability in all of us to lose our sense of purpose and direction.  No one can take it away from us or give it to us, it is within each one of us and only we can and must find it for ourselves.  


Quotes taken from Baha'i Writings (Words of Wisdom)