Better Weathering the Storm

I read some time ago that emotions are actually physical reactions, hardwired into us, whether it be genetically or from the reprogramming of our life experience…. I believe this.

Your ‘physical emotion’ then is perceived by your brain and an interpretation made….  this is individual.

If someone is tailgating me – my emotion is anger…. if someone is tailgating my wife – her emotion is nervousness.  Upon our brain interpreting the physical emotion we then create the feedback loop to our body of that interpretation – the body reacts to that, and then we escalate our physical response and the cycle continues.

If you catch your body providing you with an emotion, and you catch your mind making the learned interpretation… maybe it won’t be the same learned interpretation this time.

Maybe that anger at the tailgater can be seen differently…

“Shit, where did he come from.  Is that arsehole close enough.  That prick. I’ll fucking show him…….    Hang on buddy!  A minute ago I was driving to the shops and looking forward to a coffee – what has changed?  The way I am looking at it.  I am not actually angry….  Okay mate, you’re up my arse – for whatever reason, I’m sure its not going to affect my day I was enjoying 1 minute ago.  I’m slowing down, pulling to the side, way you go…. okay, thanks for the finger and mouthing of ‘fuck head’……   now where was I.  Oh, yeah, I think I’ll have a donut with my coffee….”

…. and you beat the body emotion.  It is gone… it is like a magic trick we were never taught and never knew how the rabbit got into the hat and suddenly found out.  It can’t be that easy – but it is.  It is will, and surrender – the will to do it and the surrender of a grievance whether real or imagined.  ….. and like magic I am on my way to a coffee and donut and looking forward to another stamp on my coffee card.

Sometimes we all feel to much – our bodies feel too much about too little and our mind get it wrong.

I wrote a little think to myself the other day about anxiety and depression….

You feel too much…

You appreciate your life too much…

You love too much…

You love the things and people in your life too much….

You actually feel too much about being alive….

It overwhelms you: life.

…. and in doing so;

You become overwhelmed and not overjoyed;

You think you are wrong in it;

Wrong for it;

It is you who is wrong and not worthy of this wonder.

And this, these thoughts,
Stop you from moving past the overwhelming into the joy of it all.

You have to weather this avalanche of emotion,
connection..
concern..
involvement…
and insight…
to peacefulness.

Through to peacefulness,
Through the moment.

How?
Through meditation – but, if that doesn’t come to you,
Through taking each moment in the moment without reaction;  weathering the storm without resistance,
Not tightening the sails against the wind or fighting the rudder – but running with it.

Run with the wind,
Surf down the face of the waves,
Breach the breaks,
and appreciate the troughs.

Why?
Because the storm will pass.
You will forget the storm.
The storm will never have happened except within yourself.
It was a dream you created…
… and when the calm comes;
… when the peacefulness engulfs you.

The anxiety never was; the depression imaginary.

Better at “Playing for Keeps” – TV Bullshit

Sorry this is not a post about anything profound like actually ‘playing for keeps!”

It is me getting sucked into the world created by television and the media (the Merchants of Misery – by the way I will keep using this term until it is accepted into the Australian Webster dictionary as the alternative name for the media….).

The other day I accidentally watched the news, and went mental – then today I accidentally watched and advertisement ….. I am so dumb!!!

I saw the advertisement for a new TV series ‘Playing for Keeps’ about to premier on Channel 10 – of fuck, I just realised this entire blog will now be considered another advertisement for the show!!!

Apparently the series is about WAGS – wives and girlfriends of AFL football players – I hate the fact that they even have their own acronym!  Why? Why? Why? I ask are they so important, or important enough to have their own TV series… even imaginary as it is.

Yes, I know we will all be entertained and wonder at the bitchiness of the characters and even be able to name them and discuss their interactions and relationships by the end episode one…. but, why.

Why?  Because this is the world the media wants you to wish you had.  this is the life that is supposed to be normal and sought after.  Being rich, being famous, being glamorous, being in the lime light….  if you are not this and not wanting to be this, you are not striving for the right things.  this is just so much fucking bullshit it makes me sick.

It is none of us, most of us will never be it, and those that do are living the lie that was created so that we could all want it too.

Are we that stupid to think that any of this matters.  Are the WAGS as important as the players – are the players even important – is the game even important.

Don’t get me wrong here, I love the footy – it is the great Australian game and my wife and I sit down to watch it… ( admittedly she is actually a greater fan than me – she does barrack for Port Power so need I say any more…!) and we even go to the games when we can – it is great entertainment…. nobody dies (only occasionally and that is a little sad… and dare I say unlucky!)…  the world is not changed by the outcome of a game of footy – and the world is most definitely not changed by what some WAG wears on the red carpet – why do we even have that – why do you watch it?

So, “Playing for Keeps’ does have some truth in its title.  It is getting us all to put all our hopes and dreams into things that will define our futures, that is playing for keeps, but it is all lost in a fantasy that has been sold, reinforced, made the most desirable thing, which are not the things that matter….  you are the medias puppet in your desires.

Plus, think for a moment those that really do play for keeps – our soldiers, our emergency service members – not some fucking footballers ex-groupie now wife! (PS:  I am sure there are some wonderful ‘WAGS’ out there who fully support their partners and create wonderful families and lives and contribute to the community – bet they are not depicted in this series!)

Yes, I watch TV – yes, I get sucked into Survivor, The Bachelor etc etc etc……

But, I know it is not true.  I know my life, my hopes, my dreams, my desires must be more than a moment of fame, recognition, glamour, possessions and bad relationships in a fake world.

I haven’t mentioned in my last couple of posts this is all about my quest to be a ‘better man’ – it is a hard task as I get pissed off about so many things.

Perhaps my ‘playing for keeps’ is knowing that you don’t get reruns, a take 2, or often a second chance – with that knowledge I know that I wont waste a minute on wanting something, watching something, or believing that something is good or bad because someone else tells me so – especially when they are trying to sell me something at the same time.

NO SALE sorry.

(PS: Apologies for the typos, spelling mistakes and sentences that don’t make sense – I wrote this in a frenzy and then realised I’d rather be in the shed doing shit so just pressed ‘post this shit’ – it’s a special button I have on my computer!)

Better at Being Grateful (11/21 Gratitude Challenge)

Todays challenge is:

Try to see the world through the eyes of a child.  Think about the things you take for granted on a daily basis, and then express gratitude for everything down to the basic necessities that sustain your life.

Okay this is a good one, because after last nights gratitude for ‘taste’ and the personal swilling frenzy that proceeded, childlike is the best I can do this morning.

Screen Shot 2017-12-12 at 11.28.48Initially I had difficulty in seeing the world at all let alone through the eyes of a child, but I did manage to walk around the house naked and then wee in the garden.  It was at this time that I was certain my head was going to explode so fell asleep on the kitchen table in a high chair – Jo (Mum) then fed me with accompanying aeroplane noises…

I then thought more like a child and crawled up in the foetal position on the lounge for an hour….  I was grateful at this point that I hadn’t died – then again at this particular point death was certainly an option to escape the headache that was feeling like my head was one of those Mattel learning toys where kids try and put different shaped block through the holes…

I slept like a baby – grateful.

I woke up and at sometime during the proceeding two hours it had become afternoon and the approximate temperature in the lounge with no air conditioning and all the doors and windows closed was equivalent to that of lava.  Screen Shot 2017-12-12 at 11.27.33I was worried about having a  childlike fit so stood (okay I sat down) in the shower and plugged the hole with my bum until the level was almost sufficient to drown me…..

I was still hot, so went outside and so stood under the sprinkler for a short time – naked.  Jo said I needed to get over it so got dressed in a Spiderman costume and went to the shops to get an iced coffee – they didn’t appear to notice my outfit.

Why was it getting dark?  Apparently I had missed most of the day.

I supposed when you are being childlike the old adage about ‘when you are young the days are short and the years are long’ applies; today certainly felt like it lasted a year.

I went to be early grateful that I had survived.

 

 

Better Dancers – in Death, Thank God We Can’t Hear the Music

I haven’t written a post for a while as I have been busy – not with life, as that is always there, and always gets in the way.  I have been busy with a support group called the 801 Group.

It is a support group for Police in South Australia, their family, friends and colleagues who suffer from PTSD, stress, anxiety and depression.  I have written a few posts about it in the past.

The group started about 18 months ago with a few of us getting together and having a coffee and a chat.  We went into the wider world and started a Facebook Page which slowly grew although attendance at the meetings waxed and waned but rarely into double figures.

During those meetings we shared horrible, tragic, frightening stories; and we looked in each others eyes and knew we were, finally understood.  We supported each other, received a few phone calls from others (a lot actually, if you count Facebook personal messages) who just could not make it to the meetings.  Most couldn’t make it to the meetings because they were psychologically too damaged, to embarrassed or no one else knew they were suffering (many were taking annual leave instead of telling anyone of there battles).

I was one of the founders of the group and did it because I didn’t want any more cops to have nowhere to go.  I didn’t want anymore cops to suicide – if just hurt my heart too much (even when I didn’t know them).

Our little group (ignored by the South Australia Police who sent us a nice letter saying they acknowledged we existed but they had their own stuff – and the Police Association of South Australia who printed a letter from us in their Journal and then said they wouldn’t give us their ‘imprimatur’ – if I here that fucking word one more time I will scream – plus PASA had their own stuff, their own long game, wait and see we are talking to the Government….. blah, blah, fucking blah!)…. meanwhile our little group met and did what we could for each other.

Out little Facebook page wandered along, picking up a member or two – we actually celebrated a few days ago as we had reach 250 members…

Then it happened again.  A well liked, active, dedicated young cop killed himself.

I have to say it.  Every time, every-fucking-time, it happens, I cry.

I retired 5 months ago, it’s not my problem, I don’t want to go on a crusade, I don’t want to fight ‘city hall’, I want a peaceful life in the country…..

But….  I cry, every-fucking-time the blue ribbon appears on the Facebook page, every time I hear the story when they ring me (again!) about another Cop who ‘topped’ themselves, I cry.

We lost Sharynne Grant such a short time ago.

We lost Ashley Meeks a few days ago.

I think PASA and SAPOL lost their humanity a lot longer ago.

And now it begins.

The media (the fucking Merchants of Misery) go into a frenzy, not to report on a tragedy but to get an angle that no one else has, so they can sell it and get ratings, page clicks or sell papers…..

SAPOL takes the company line and have a really important ‘Commissioner’s Enquiry’ for a few months, form a new project team to do another project, introduce a new support scheme…..

PASA blames low numbers, they blame SAPOL, they blame the government (but not to much) they have a new enquiry, fuck that we’ll have a national enquiry; beat that little State SAPOL, we have the Police Federation of Australia – hear that…. National Enquiry mate, fucking National..!!!

And they dance and they talk, and they promise, and recommend, and sell and sell and sell.  And they sell that they understand and they will fix it and they are on our side….

And they sell the message, the party line, the government policy, the non-committal heartfelt sentiments of our caring leader – and they sell and they sell ……

And when the dust settles and the sales are over, we look and realise, the only thing that has been sold, is us – we have been sold out!

And a few days ago the blue ribbon started to appear again.  I cried before I even knew who it was even before I logged in – not again, not fucking again!

So I sat at my little desk, to check how the 801 Facebook page was going – how my mates were going, and thought I better get a meeting together (as they had stopped a few months ago because there wasn’t enough of us to organise them…), I flicked on the screen, logged on and found that 2700 people had joined our site in 48 hours.

Yes, 2700 (2953 total membership at its peak to be exact).

I cried.  I was overwhelmed.  I learned of Ashley Meeks (who I did know) and I thought of him now dead, seeing his mates rally.

But the rally was one of pain, of fucking heartbreak and the sadness that hurts your heart like nothing else.

And I read the posts and I cried, most of the time.

Hundreds, no thousands, in the Police family were pouring their hearts out, disclosing horror, upon horror, upon horror – some people had to leave the site (and I get it – I would be gone if I didn’t run it and have a few backing me up!) because it hurt them too much, or reminded them to much, just reading the stories.

And there was anger, and sadness and the loudest rally cry I had heard in the Police for years….. a call from the heart, a call to stop this horror….

….But, within the rally cry I started to notice something else, not from the rallying members, but from somewhere else….

I started hearing in the background, the faintest sound of music….. and slowly, but surely, the music got louder, until, at exactly the right cue, the fucking bullshit dancers (some were even marienettes this time – a nice twist!) appeared….  and started dancing the same old fucking dance again….

And I cried.

I shut down my Facebook page, I turned off my phone, said “Fuck ’em” and hugged my wife, who said “I love you, are you going to be okay”  and I said “Yeah, it was never me I was worried about” and she said “Yeah, I know”.

So, I wrote this.  On my blog – for me, for Ash and Sharynne – because even though I only personally knew one of them…. I miss both of them so badly…

I have heard the call for being positive, for not slagging SAPOL or PASA or the GOVERNMENT, for working collaboratively, for sitting around in bean bags and singing kumbaya and talking about our feelings…..

… and all the time I hear the music and see the dancers dancing ….

I’m going to bed.  Hopefully I won’t dream.

Better at “the dialectic”

Well it has been some time since I have been mad here.Screen Shot 2016-04-25 at 11.30.59

And it escalates.  The YouTube channel is going well and I have decided that you can go against your nature.  I have spoken about this a fair bit in other posts; talking about the Scorpion and the Frog and generally trying to find a way to be a better man while all the time fighting against ‘my nature’.

I have decided it is fight I am going to lose!  I will lose, not because it is a battle that I cant win, not because using all my strategies is invalid, but because the one thing that continues to be my achilles heal will always trip me up, and that is  – I am me.

But, it not a fight I am prepared to give up on.
Here comes in “The Dialectic”.  Dialectic thinking is a pretty hard thing to explain – I tried once in a previous pScreen Shot 2015-05-09 at 11.05.19 amost and used my time in Bali as an example – bearing in mind philosophers have been arguing about it for years, sorry centuries!  They can’t come up with a definitive answer so how am I.  Well lets start off with a few of THEIR definitions and then I’ll get to how this is MY answer:

Dialectic thinking:

“a method of argument or exposition that systematically weighs contradiction, facts or ideas with a view to the resolution of their real or apparent contradictions”
(Fuck, that made my brain hurt!)

“The process of reconciliation of contradictions”
(That’s better – a bit like me.)

To me it is, allowing two contradictory ideas to exist at the same time.

Can I be the Scorpion and the Frog at the same time.  Can I still be shitted off by most things and wanting to tell most people I meet to get fucked AND be a better man.  Does one contradict the other so much that there can be no conciliation between the two.  The philosophers seem to think so – I do not!

I am me, sometimes it is not a pretty sight, but I am also resolved to be a better man – a man who lives his values, his beliefs and his convictions.  A man who is not wandering through life oblivious to my own existence.  A man who thinks a person is better, bigger and more important that the latest LCD Internet connects 100 inch TV.

To me dialectic thinking is about being those contradictions.

Not living those contradictions in conflict but just living them; as a better man.

As someone once said to me, how will you know when you are the ‘better man’ or is it a continuous process that never finishes.

I thought about it for a moment and said “Fuck if I know, but I refuse to continue living as a robot”.

I hope that my new series of videos “The Dialectic” goes a bit of the way to changing ‘Fucked if I know” to “Fuck me, I get it!”

 

 

 

Better at Swimming in Shit

I try very hard not to swear in my posts – but, those of you who know me will realise that swearing, to me is a way of punctuation that only swearing will fulfil (my wife says I use ‘fuck’ and ‘shit’ as filler sounds like other people l use ‘um’ and ‘ah’).

But, today my post has to be titled ‘swimming in shit’ because that is what I have noticed I am doing – shit is shit and that’s all there is to it – calling it ‘poo’ or ‘excrement’ is just not the same.

It is a bit of a shock to when you go down to the same old water hole for a quick dip, then after a few minutes of paddling around you see, a few syringes, a used condom, a pile of beer cans on the bank, the water is dirty and actually smells like shit; that you suddenly realise you are swimming in shit.

This has been my observation of my life over the last couple of weeks while I have been on ‘blog sabbatical’.  If you read my post “Better Knowledge” you will get a bit of an idea that I have not been posting as I have been out and about and ‘looking at the world’; I have also been sucked into Youtube where I think I am a movie star – and people are actually listening!

Let me tell you I have been looking at it positively.  If I come across angry people, I think “they may be angry for a good reason” so let it go: if I come across selfish people, I say “they must need this more than me”; if I get cut off driving, beeped at, given the bird or tailgated, I say ‘they must be in a hurry to something important’.  I have been employing all the strategies in my post “Better dealing with Dickheads” and have had no conflict with dickheads or in fact everyone I meet or come across in my daily life (even the dickheads).

I am a fucking saint and love the fucking world and realise all this time I am swimming in shit – I just haven’t seen the turds floating about.

I do realise of course that most of the ‘turds’ don’t actually know they are ‘turds’ – read my post “Better Oblivious” or “Better off Oblivious” for why this is so.  Perhaps I am the turd and don’t know it.

I am going about my life, dealing with dickheads and getting along.  I am not oblivious; I am noticing the connections, noticing the people, noticing my great life, being happy…..  and all the time I am swimming in shit!

What is this shit that I am swimming in.  It is the stuff in our lives that we notice, but just get used too.  It is the stuff we accept that is okay, it is the turds that we brush aside and say, “Oh, it’s just a little turd, not a problem.”  But, get enough turds and you are swimming is shit.

What are these turds?

I am sorry but I just can’t get away from the biggest excrement creator in our society – the arse that sprays shit and turns all streams into torrents of turds – THE MEDIA – the ‘Merchants of Misery.’ They don’t just tell us about the turds they make them, they hand them out and ask us to polish them – they fill our daily lives with a deluge of dung and continuous diarrhea of brown smelling discontent.

These ‘merchants’ for they are merchants because all they do is sell; they have no conscience.  They are the ‘Wolves of Wall Street’ in our lounge rooms, on the radio, filling the internet, plastered over every building, in our letter box (we call it junk mail for fuck sake!) and most of all polluting the minds of our children.  They tell you that your are unhappy unless you buy, buy, buy;  and, when you do buy, they tell you what you have bought is not good as you have to buy again to have the new stuff.  If this is not bad enough they also tell you what to think!

They tell you what ‘news’ is; they tell you in a way that is not fact, it is not impartial, it has one goal, and that is to keep you watching so that you buy, buy, buy.  All incidents are horrific, at catastrophe, a tragedy and then we get to here my favourite question after a death of a son, child, mother, father…… “Are you upset, how is the family coping?” – Are you fucking kidding me – no you are not, because we then answer as opposed to saying something like “Are you seriously asking me that question after my son, child, mother father was killed, maimed, injured, I lost their house, car etc etc etc….”  We all play the game, we all want that (useless) 15 minutes of fame.

I read a survey the other day (can’t remember where, can’t find it on the internet – I’ll just pretend I’m a journalist and say from a ‘reliable source’) that said the percentage of people who would help someone else in trouble, had dropped, yet the percentage of people who would help someone else in trouble if they were being filmed had quadrupled.  Everybody wants to be a fucking celebrity.  (I am about to conduct a brief survey especially for this post – “One moment please”)

I typed into the Youtube search box “funny cats” and got 6,600,000 hits.
I typed in “PTSD” and got 333,000 hits – I gave it another go, this can’t be right….
I typed in “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder” and got 115,000 hits…..
I typed in “Police Post Traumatic Stress Disorder” ……. and got, 7,500 hits….
(PS: “Police Brutality” got 490,000 hits)

We are all fucked – we are all swimming in shit!

 

Better at Dealing with Dickheads

Screen Shot 2015-09-02 at 15.49.22
I try to write my posts about profound and important things, you know, the stuff that fills our heads but often gets overlooked because life gets in the way.

Often, it is not life that gets in the way though, it is the people that seem to be from a different planet…. let’s call them ‘dickheads.’

I have spent my life dealing with dickheads and have even written a previous post about the ‘scientific name’ which is ‘6 percenters’  (Click here to my link about 6 percenters…. or just read on and you’ll get the point.)

Let’s get an analysis of your average dickhead;  I’ll make it simple….

They just get in the way of having a normal day, with normal stuff and a reasonably pleasant journey through the stuff that fills our days.  They are the people that either fuck up the line in the shop or fuck up our entire life… but, the thing is that they are just the same in all aspects of life. Mainly it is just the amount of damage they actually are allowed to create that is different.

I say ‘allowed to create’ as your average dickhead is not measuring their damage but just going about creating it, oblivious to the existence of the rest of us.

You can’t hate them (that just plays into their game). You can’t pity them because you hate them too much.

Lets again look at the average dickhead.  We allow them to be a part of our life.  That is the point.  They want us to say ‘no’ when they ask a question so that they can argue with us; they want us to say ‘yes’ to a question (often a stupid question) so that they can feel empowered by our acquiescence to their stupidity.  You are getting the point, at this point, aren’t you?  You can not reason or negotiate with a dickhead – they are just a dickhead.

It is also important to realise that most dickheads can be identified immediately after you meet them – it is usually through an apology from the person that introduced them, who says “So-and-So is a bit different but you get used to them” – whoop whoop Dickhead alert!  Do not make this parson your friend – even their friends cautioned you about being their friend – were you listening!

I myself may have fallen into this category in the past, but, I have the unfortunate position of now realising it.  When this happens the only time you can be a dickhead is when you allow yourself to fall into the dickhead trap – which of course is not actually believing that you are a dickhead, when you are.

Screen Shot 2015-09-02 at 16.57.35Example: the average dickhead will often have manipulated themselves into a position of authority .  The reason this has happened is that everyone else thought that they were the only one that thought this person was a dickhead  and didn’t want to speak out in the event that everyone else thought they were the dickhead.  Hence the dickheads rule supreme because everyone else who is not a dickhead doesn’t want to be one.  It is like the old catch 22 movie – in that you only realise you are a dickhead when you are not one, and if you are one you never realise you are.

Your average, in authority, dickhead, will often ask a question looking for an argument… they want you to say ‘no’.  DO NOT FALL FOR THIS TRAP!!!   In the event that a dickhead asks you to do something that is often very dickheadish in it’s totality, just say YES.  Okay, I know this sounds stupid, but, just reflect for a moment the reason they asked the question in the first place, which of course was hoping that you would say ‘no’.  By saying ‘yes’, this throws the dickhead modus operandi into complete chaos.  They will often question you more about your positive response to what may even spark in them the realisation that what they are asking you is… well let’s face it… often just fucking stupid.  The trick here is to stay the course… continue to agree and and say ‘yes’ to whatever absurdity they suggest or require of you.  This will often lead to the situation where they will leave, empowered in dickheadologistical self assurance, thinking that you are about to get on with the ridiculous task or request they have just set.

Now, the real empowerment of dealing with dickheads comes to the fore.   It is this.  You just don’t do it.  Yes, you said ‘yes’, and they believe you said ‘yes’ and that is what they heard.  They leave thinking that this thing is to be done.  …and, well you just don’t.  The absolute glory of dealing with this situation is that in the event that they ever come back and ask you if you did this thing, you just say ‘yes’.  If they have evidence that you didn’t do it, you just say sorry… they may yell at you and tell you to do it again… and of course you say ‘yes’, and of course you just don’t do it again.  This circle of request, non action, enquiry, apology, request, no action…has a finite life.  Why?  Well, mainly because the average dickhead has too many things to be a dickhead about to worry about you.

Eventually they will not be getting the required amount of angst to drive their motor.  They, in the end, don’t even go away angry… they just go away.  This may sound too simplistic, but give it a try – of course if you are a dickhead, you will not even understand this and probably write a reply to this post complaining about the grammar or spelling… sorry about that, I will correct it in the second draft.

Okay; one dickhead dealt with – that is the authoritarian dickhead.  What about the subordinate dickhead.  Oh, the glory in this solution is beyond belief.  You just ask them what they want.  Don’t argue with them about what you want (bearing in mind if you do this you run the risk of you becoming a dickhead).  Just ask in the simplest of terms what is it that they want.  Of course this confused them, as it is their one task in life to upset anyone making a request of them… you may get any sort of reply from the outlandish to the immediate submission to your authority.  Of course nothing they say makes any differencScreen Shot 2015-09-02 at 15.52.53e to your next tactic – just give them what they want.  Sound absurd, but think about it.  They are a dickhead and just want to keep asking you for things that you cannot give – so turn the tables on them and ask them what they want.  When they request it, give it to them – dickhead problem solved as they have nothing to argue about.  Of course most times it won’t get to this as merely  asking them what they want will throw them into confusion as what they really want, deep down, it to shit you off and be a dickhead.  Of course later on when it all turns to shit, you just blame them anyway as you used that magnificent get our of gaol free card… delegation.

Dealing with dickheads is only hard if you let them make it hard.

Although the dickhead tactic is to make it appear as if it is all about them, really it is all just about shitting you off and fucking up your day – DO NOT LET THIS HAPPEN!  Follow the simple rules recapped below:

  • Say ‘yes’ to dickhead requests (remember they WANT you to say ‘no’ to argue)
  • Always ask a dickhead what they want and give it to them (this confuses them and will often end in them not doing anything, which is good as they then don’t fuck stuff up)
  • In the event point 1 and 2 fail – just walk away – say nothing, ignore their request to continue the conversation – walk away… slowly, if possible, very slowly; do not look back, do not engage with them.  When you return at some time in the future (10 minutes to 4 hours is usually enough), pretend that it never happened.  If they ask what happened just say you couldn’t stay any longer and leave it at that.  They are confused as there was no confrontation. In the future when you start to turn away they will become afraid and do whatever you want.

Also remember dealing with dickheads should be fun.  Never get angry as this is their fuel. Smiles and the ‘yes’ word are their enemies.

Finally, your average dickhead is only in your life for a short time.  Eventually they go away and you get to tell great stories about how you dealt with them.  I am certain that eventually all dickheads congregate together and just go to meetings (see my recommendations on dealing with meetings here).

Remember, NEVER play their game their way. If you do, you just become a dickhead.

 

Better Road Rules

A while ago I wrote a post about driving in Bali (see Better Driving or Dancing).

I am now back here and driving again.

The most important road rule here is – patience.

We drove from Seminyak to Ubud which is about 30 kilometres and it took us one and a half hours!  The roads are narrow, often in disrepair,  there are few traffic lights and the traffic is peak hour from 8 am to 9 pm!

I enjoyed this drive more than going to the shops (3 km away) at home in Adelaide.  It is important to note that I am on holidays and as such most of us tend to slow down and take it like it is, but, most of the other people on the roads we having a ‘normal’ day.  So, why did I enjoy the drive?

Because of two things: patience and courtesy.  These are the two main road rules in Bali, and they are contagious.

Just this afternoon in the heart of Ubud at peak hour traffic (remember that is all day) we say a young school girl approach the security guard/parking attendant/greeter at the restaurant we were having coffee at; in typical all over the world school girl fashion pulled on his sleeve to get his attention;  he bent down and she whispered something in his ear.  He then took her by the DSCN2214hand, started blowing his whistle feverishly, flapping his little orange flag about, and walked with her out onto the road, stopping all the traffic so she could get onto her school bus.  All the traffic stopped!  Not one horn was blow, fist waved or abuse hurled.  My wife in her blog talks of ‘moments of joy’ – and perhaps this was one, but more importantly it was the absolute epitome of courtesy, manners, patience and a demonstration of values over rules.

In Australia and most western countries we have so much legislation that we tend to ignore it all – there are no ‘important’ road rules, there are just an enormous list of rules we can get a ticket for!  Remember the Police telling us of the ‘fatal 5’ have not real statistical justification (other than inattention) for these being the 5 offences they choose to target – they are just the most prevalent and cost effective. (I did no, read, NO research into that last statement – prove me wrong- I dare you!)

I should actually do a lot more research in my posts, but can’t want to!

It is always my belief that the main reasons people have car crashes are:

  • Inattention
  • Lack of Experience/Skill
  • Impatience

All of which could be fixed with adequate training.  This training would start at home from birth.  It would consist of a few basic lessons:

  1. Learning that you are not the most important person in the world.
  2. Learning that you are not entitled to anything, you earn it.
  3. Empathy.
  4. Generosity.
  5. Courtesy and manners.
  6. Real life is tangible not electronic.

After about 16 years of training you get to drive a car!

Our driving in Australia is akin to our lives.  We rush recklessly to things that most of the time don’t matter.  In that rush we forget that someone else may be rushing to something that does matter.

We don’t need better road rules we need better drivers.  I am going to start a campaign to make this happen.

I am going to start with me.

 

Better at Picking a Fight in an Empty Room

A few months ago I was with a couple of my good old mates attempting to go for a ‘3 hour cruise’ on one of their little sailing boats.  Well the result was similar to the fate of the S.S. images-1Minnow when we became stranded motorless in the Patawalonga moorings drifting towards the bridge.  One of us had decided to take a rope and swim back to the mooring so we could them pull ourselves to safety (it wasn’t me!).

At this time, with stresses high, it was not a good time for the well meaning bogan to look over the side of the bridge and ask if we were having trouble…..

I suppose, no matter how much I attempt to control ‘the scorpion’ (see my post Better the Scorpion) it is at moments like this that control is abandoned for the only form of defence, attack!   Also, as sarcasm in the lowest form of wit and apparently the only kind I possess, I replied to our friend and his bull terrier on the bridge:

‘No, we’re right, we’re doing this for fun’

Well what proceeded was an increasing heated exchange where our ‘saviour’ substantially withdrew his offer of assistance to help and exchanged it for a more sincere offer to smash my face in!

Luckily it took us so long to get the boat moored that he lost interest, but, I did then receive the assessment from my friends that I was capable of ‘picking a fight in an empty room.’Screen shot 2015-02-10 at 8.06.36 AM

Yeah…..  must to my denial, they were perhaps pretty right about that.

I try to see the world from the funny side and stick to my mantras (see my Home Page) but often things (and especially people) no matter how hard I try, shit me!  That term, ‘shits me’ has also become a mantra towards me by a certain group of friends who have heard me say it so many times – often they will start the chant “Hey, does that shit you” “Yeah, it shits him” “That’s gotta shit ya”

Through all the above  – ‘picking a fight in an empty room’ and ‘that shits me’ –  I have come to realise it is just me, being reflected back at me.  It is like those moments when you walk past the mirror after a big night out (or when you are old!) and initially step back in shock as you don’t recognise yourself immediately – the bad, or is it the good part is that upon that recognition you realise it is time to get your shit together and tidy yourself up and face the day with your best face.  I think this is the same with attitudes not only your appearance.

Bob (see Better with Bob) used to say the only way to live each day is with an ‘attitude of gratitude’.  Great little saying, although I am not one for ‘cheesy’ little proverbs delivered usually with a condescending all knowing grin and at a time when it just to ‘shits me’ and I want to argue with them…… oh, there I go again!

I think the observation of me ‘picking a fight in an empty’ room was probably more insightful than the obvious intent – which was to take the piss out of me.  However, upon reflection the two mates I was with, one was (see Better with Des Steele – my friend) and one is still (see Quotes Page – The Wisdom of Puk), pretty insightful sorts of guys.

I suppose the mirror reflects us as our friends reflect the person we really are.

I also think a lot of these ‘fights in empty rooms’ are fights inside my head – always remembering that inside my head is a very dangerous place and I never go there alone!

Maybe, the bogan on the bridge was a reflection of me – maybe it is all done with mirrors and the actual trick is seeing, and realising, what is real, what is now, and what is important.

Maybe, next time I am picking that fight, I perhaps need to spend more time on the riverbank (see Better on the Riverbank), realising that maybe, the enemy I am waiting to come floating buy, the person I am wanting to fight, really is in that empty room – because it’s me.

I hope, I win.

 

 

Better the News and Kids on Bikes

I have spent most of the afternoon trawling through the latest news reports and it just makes me sad.  So much hate and death and hate.

newspaper_collage_498x705

We are sitting in our caravan at the Port Vincent Foreshore Caravan Park where I have come for holidays with my kids for the last 12 years. This year was what I hope is the beginning of the resurgence (after the teenage years of, I hate you, I hate this, I hate that – plus I know everything!) with the kids coming back with their respective boyfriends. Plus we had the most wonderful friends also come and hang out.

I am reading the news, and not knowing if I am angry or just sad…..  and a little kid rides past our caravan on their overly pink bike, oversized helmet, and I hear one yell out to another “I can’t remember your name, but this is fun anyway!”

pink_kids_bike_helmet_and_bike Our friends have gone home and some kids have gone home but one is still camping with her boyfriend and texting me stories of their fishing and camping. I just texted her and said it was like old times and she replied “It was like old times and we loved it!!!”

I read the news while I listen to the squeals of joy of the kids riding by on their bikes – plus the ‘family world series of cricket’ on the road out the front. I smile thinking about my daughter in the tent, in the wind, in the rain cooking the squid they caught after learning how to clean it on YouTube!

The world is mental and full of hate and pain; but it is also wonderful.

I now know why my wife writes her blog www.beatcancerwithjoy.com, but some days it is hard to find…  and some days it is just out the front of your caravan….