Payment

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‘How would you like to be paid for any work you do in the future’, the philosophy professor asked his students as the lesson began. Money was the resounding answer from the class; money echoed from every corner of the room, it almost tinkled like small change, with the eagerness of the response. Laughter rang out along with comments of ‘lots of it’ and ‘mountains of the stuff’ from a few of the bolder and yet more honest students. ‘Why sir’, asked one of the young men at the back of the class, ‘isn’t that how everyone is paid for their work, are there any other options’

The professor looked at his class and smiled, he held this talk every year and it always started the same. A few moments passed as he scanned the room, these kids were a good bunch, the majority of them would grow up to be decent human beings. On a daily basis since the start of term, he had witnessed them helping each other, encouraging, sharing of themselves and leaving their mark. Yes, he thought to himself as he looked at them, they were a very good class indeed.

He stood, smiling slightly, at the front of the class, his students waiting for the answer that would start today’s lesson. ‘My hope is that I am thought of with kindness, valued for my work and respected for who I am’ he began ‘I love to teach and inspire people and the payback for me is to see my students achieve and to know I have had a part in that, this is what makes each and every day worthwhile’. He paused for a moment, the room was silent ‘There are many forms of payment’ he went on ‘but one thing has become abundantly clear to me, money is by far the least significant.’

Let us discuss…

Sharing

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A chef has a special dish with secret recipe, the dish is the reason why many customers come to his restaurant to eat. Families and professional chefs alike have tried to recreate this recipe, but it is never quite right, it always misses a little something.

If he gave away this recipe, he wouldn’t have a special dish, everyone would have it. The reason he has not shared the special ingredient, is not to do with his ego, he would happily share if he could. The chef does not share because he needs to pay the rent.

Tramp

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She kept her head down as she climbed the steps to the house. It was most definitely daylight now, the moon had retired and the sun had climbed high above the block in the distance. The postman was watching, she could feel his eyes upon her but she kept her gaze ahead, she wasn’t in the mood for any fuss today, it had been a long night. The door to the flats opened as the neighbour downstairs left for the day, she slipped in unnoticed.

She wondered to herself what he would say when she returned home, she had been missing a while now. Would he care, would he have noticed she wasn’t there beside him, comforting him, as was her way when she was home.

He was still sleeping as she entered the flat. Slowly, like silk, she crept towards the bed. He stirred for just a moment as she settled beside him and then back to his dreams.

She purred loudly.

Bluebell Woods

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It’s beautiful here in the woods, just like I remember. I’m walking along the path through the trees. I have to watch for the bumps in the path where the roots of the trees are lifting the earth, but it’s just wonderful. I feel privileged to be here in this very special place. If I look ahead I can see the light shining at the end of the trees, it’s probably where the sunlight hits the earth but it looks almost mystical from here where I stand.

Bluebells cover the ground all around for as far as I can see, a carpet of purple and blue. To my left I see a couple of figures collecting the flowers, when I look closer I realise I know them, I am the child, the other person my grandmother. I remember how happy the child is, how happy they both are, how special that day was. I have stored it perfectly in my memory all these years to return and visit it again today. I hear my other self giggle and wonder where that childhood innocence went. I believe today I must have reclaimed it as I managed to get here even if only in my sleep.

The trees that line the path bend gently in the breeze as if to greet me, leaves cover the path around the roots of the trees. Although discarded now at the end of their days they are still part of the trees that bore them and still remain part of the scene. They will eventually rot and feed the trees through the earth, the cycle of life.

I walk away from the couple, away from myself and away from the path to the left of the scene, towards what looks like a gentle hue in the distance. Where, it would seem, the sunlight has not discovered yet today. It looks peaceful and magical. There is a mist above the bluebells like early dawn and if I look really close I can see tiny specks like shimmering dust. I sit in this place for a while, I feel protected and safe, I think about my life.

I know I’m dreaming but also know I’m in control, I can create here, I can direct the outcome. I consider going over to the child and helping her collect bluebells, tell her she will remember the day forever. I could advise her on her future, tell her the pitfalls out there for her but I won’t because she needs to learn for herself, like me. I just watch contentedly, as she lives her special day, from the background.

I know I can’t stay but it feels so good to be here, I must go but I want to keep something from today. I look down to the floor of the woods to see what I can find, a stone catches my eye nestled in the soft grass. I pick it up and hold it in the centre of my palm to have a good look. The stone is green and it shimmers slightly, if I look closely it seems I can see inside, there are patterns beneath the surface that tell a story. I will take the stone home to remember my journey here. I slip it into my pocket, take one last look at the child with her grandmother and close my eyes.

I’m back in my bedroom, the birds are whistling in the sunshine and I can hear the engine of the school bus in the distance. It draws closer and stops outside to let my daughter off. She runs up the path with her arms behind her back, hiding something. When she reaches the porch where I’m waiting to greet her she produces a bunch of bluebells she has collected today on a nature walk. I hold her tight for a moment and kiss her tiny face in gratitude. We go into the house together to put the flowers in water. We put them on display on the window ledge, just next to the shiny green stone.

Love

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I’m trying to work out love, what love is and how it feels. I want to describe it in its real sense. I want to be able to recognise the feeling of love in written words, I want to know love so that I can share love.

I think I love, I know I love but it is so very hard to put the feeling into words.

I know that love is unconditional in as much as you don’t require anything back. You are happy to give love, happiness and joy without needing anything for yourself. What you get back is what you give yourself through the actions of giving your love, giving of yourself, as to give love out fills you up with renewed love inside. I’m sure that makes no sense, probably as it has taken me so long to get here myself. I have only just started to think about what love means although I think I have been practicing love for a lifetime.

Most of my life I think I may have measured love by what you got back, or how it has been reciprocated. That’s not to say I’m not kind, but confused for a while. My mum does not agree with this, we have argued over it, but she loves me.

I don’t think you can be lonely when you love, because to love is to link into another being or cause with your whole soul. When you connect in that way you are not alone in spirit even if you are in a physical sense. I’m not alone even when I am, in fact I just don’t like having too many people around me now, I enjoy myself, I like me. It takes so long to reach this place, but when you’re here you wonder why you didn’t arrive earlier.

I think love must be connected to the stomach in some way, I know the heart usually represents love but I just don’t feel it there, I feel it in my stomach. I have tried to feel love in my heart, maybe if told to open my heart but it just feels empty. I think my heart might be in my stomach or maybe I have got love wrong. I feel the people I love in my stomach, it’s a warmth when I think about them or I’m happy for them and if I’m worried my stomach constricts and feels hollow. I wonder if there is a connection with overeating in the world, filling the gap with food instead of love, not recognizing the feeling of love. I can see, if I think of it in this way, why it would be terribly easy to love food, no wonder diets don’t work.

Infatuation, falling in love is so much easier to describe. The butterflies in the pit of your stomach, the beat of your heart, the sexual fulfillment, quickness of breath and those wistful dreams. But that is not the love I’m talking about here, I’m trying to describe the deep love we feel for another that is not reliant on our own fulfillment.

If I could describe love in a picture I would draw a circle.

My Funny Friend

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So I’ve been reading Conversations with God. I had heard of the book but hadn’t given it much thought before until a friend mentioned it. She told me it was powerful and that things start to happen when you read it. I was interested so I downloaded a copy on my Kindle. I chose my Kindle so that if I read it outside no one would know what I was reading and automatically jump to the conclusion I was a weirdo.

I immediately liked the book when I started reading it, mainly because it made me laugh out loud. Who would have thought God would have the same flippant sense of humour as me. He says in the book he invented humour so it is only natural he gets it. Well lots of people think they are funny but they don’t make me laugh like God does. I know I sound a little crazy but people have told me about God before but I haven’t felt drawn in the same way. This Donald Walsch, who brings God in these books, gives you a God you want to go for a drink with. I can imagine sitting over a coffee with him talking about the universe and beyond. We would get on so well it would be natural that we would move on to a bar or two and really get stuck into who we are, maybe end the evening with a curry.

You see this book makes God real in a way, as real as the scenes you can see in your mind when reading any book. I invest my emotions into characters in books, get to know them, care for them and bring them into my life.

Funny thing was half way through the book strange things did start to happen. Like the check out guy in Waitrose stopping what he was doing and telling me he missed his mother. He went on to tell me, a complete stranger, that he smells flowers when he wakes in the morning. He told me she loved flowers and he bought them for her every week, he said he was confused as he didn’t have fresh flowers at home. I suggested that maybe it was his mother drawing close to him, suggested he talk to her and buy some flowers for her. He told me he would do this and got on with putting my shopping through. I walked home thinking about him and his mother, I suppose they are in my life now too.

Mum and I have been even more psychically connected than usual. Even though she is fifty miles away we seem to be experiencing a higher connection. She will phone and it is turning out we are thinking or doing the same things during the day, like we are in the same room.

Well I’m near the end of the first book now and reading about what it means to be successful, how to bring success into your life. How to have what you need financially and materialistically, by just knowing you have. As I turned off the light last night, I thought about how I had always believed I would be all right. I smiled as I thought of winning the lottery.

This morning there was an email from the National Lottery, strange because I thought I had not been successful in updating my debit card payment. Well I must have been because it turns out I won. Not all of it this time, that’s to come, but £174.00 for now.

I immediately thanked God, not my lucky stars but God. This book is having an impact on me. I’m off to read some more about my funny friend.

Happy Easter!

The Development Circle

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She found it really hard to close her mind to the outside world and just be in the moment. There was a shopping list running through her mind and she could see herself walking down the isle of the grocery store. She found these guided meditations really hard to stick at, it was terribly difficult to let go of life or was it just too frightening. She pulled herself back from the supermarket, lifting her gaze to look round the circle. There were seven of them in total, the others appearing to be at peace and following the guidance of the leader. Okay, where was she supposed to be, could she see the blue light in the circle, maybe if she turned it into tiny drops of water she could just see it.

Who was that outside in the hallway, maybe a latecomer but surely the door was locked. She brought her mind back to the group and mentally put the noise in the hallway into her invisible shopping bag along with the groceries. The medium leading the group was telling them to put the people they loved into the healing light in the centre. This bit was easier, there was her mum dancing without oxygen a big smile on her face and her eyes reflecting the blue of the room. Her dad smiling and waving his arms about showing jazz hands, and her nephew with his school bag dancing around them both. There was Kerry looking at peace, a smile on her face without the usual signs of childhood trauma, just looking happy. Jenny and Moira stood peacefully at the edge also watching the happiness of those still living. She put all her might into seeing these people and sending them the love and healing they needed.

It was time for the loved ones to leave and for her to step into the circle and receive healing herself, ask spirit for whatever she needed. She saw herself there, she made herself a little younger, slimmer and her hair just right and yes she was smiling. What did she need, maybe guidance, she asked spirit for direction, to help her find her path and stop jumping about in her life, she so needed to find her life purpose. She was alone in the circle even though all the members of the group were supposed to be with her. She looked up to the light and sent a prayer for help putting all her love into the request.

The door opened and a man walked into the room to join the group. From the centre of the circle she watched as he crossed the room and put his coat across a chair. She wondered what the medium would say about his late arrival but casting her eyes in that direction it appeared she didn’t mind.   The man smiled over at her and put a book down on her chair. It was green with gold leaf writing on the cover but from here she couldn’t read the words.

‘Okay when you are ready bring yourself back to the group’

She took a couple of breaths and slowly opened her eyes looking around the group. The man had gone of course, he was only in her imagination but his smile remained warming her inside. Sarah, the medium, asked how everyone felt and if anyone wanted to say anything. She smiled but didn’t want to tell the group about the man in her dream so remained silent.

It was a good evening at the development circle, they usually all had fun together. They practiced a couple of psychic exercises, some tarot and aura reading before closing the group and heading to the pub.

Saying goodnight to each other later that night, Sarah told her to think about the words on the book cover. She was amazed and asked Sarah if she had seen the man with the book. Sarah shook her head and said ‘I just know about the book, not everything but I know you will write one, you just need to see the title’.

Flat for Sale

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Jack, the guy from the estate agents, said there would be no problem selling my flat. In fact he had people on his books that already wanted to view it, they were interested in my flat right now. He wanted to know what he could do to stop the other estate agents coming to give a valuation, when he could sell it today.

My home really is wonderful, I have always loved this place. I don’t really want to go but circumstances now mean I must. An upstairs flat doesn’t work anymore, I need to be downstairs now and that will mean leaving Brighton. It makes me sad to leave but I’m happy to have been here.

Jack walked around my flat with his pad and measuring tool and I accompanied him. The main room he said was great, good size and well presented. I wanted to tell him about the parties, the music and dancing that had taken place over the years. How we have laughed till we cried on many occasion in that room. How wooden spoons make fantastic microphones and in here anyone can sing. I thought he should know that I have cooked for and fed the people I love in the main room. My lounge has been checked into a few times on facebook and the food and atmosphere are said to be amazing. I didn’t share this with Jack but I do think it adds to the value.

Lovely big windows, lots of light he said. Yes, I thought, the sun streams in lighting up the room and everyone in here; it is always summer in this room. There is nothing I like better than sitting by those windows in the morning with my coffee; it is where I like to think. The flowers in the window box lean into the room to join me and bring summer indoors.

The bedroom is a good size, huge window. I didn’t mention to Jack that I lie in bed looking up at the sky every day. I set the alarm early, just to lie there. I can’t just jump out of bed, not when I have to plan the day while I’m looking up at the big blue sky from that window. At night I count the stars that shine over the city from the window and the light it lets in casts comfortable and safe shadows around the room.

Jack said he liked the wooden floorboards, a good feature he said. Great for dancing, but we do have to think about Jonathan downstairs if it is late. That is apart from the time he was dancing with us, then we didn’t care.

My neighbours are just fantastic; I’m so lucky to have them. Jonathan is a homeopath who always understands my ailments and humour. You can see his brass plaque just beside the main doorway downstairs. He makes hair products too; they are standing on the shiny glass shelf in my bathroom. If you look out of that big window again, you will see his garden, it’s beautiful all year round, it must be where he gets his inspiration.

The house next door is the vicarage, so no problems there. Robert, the vicar, is lovely, we have shared a few glasses of wine and his stories are hilarious. It is a lovely road, full of great people. What’s more near the centre of the city it’s amazingly quiet.

Before you go, Jack, did I mention the planning permission to extend into the loft. You think that’s a good selling point. No I didn’t ever get around to it, my loft is full of boxed memories.

You’re a great sales man Jack, you remind me of my granddad and he could sell anything, same patter, same charm. Thing is Jack, you don’t have all the information. The best things about this flat are the memories in the walls, the smiles that have been reflected in the glass, the happiness and the love. I think this has always been a happy home and I think anyone that lives here will get that.

Does love and happiness sell Jack, will you tell the prospective purchasers about the love. I think they need to know that it’s a wonderful home, that when the door closes behind you there is nothing quite like it.

You see, when people buy a home in Brighton they buy into a lifestyle. But what makes that even better is the home you live that lifestyle from. This home, my home, has great vibes. I think that all the people that have ever lived here have been blessed and the happiness that has been shared in the flat will fill the walls for years to come.

Time Machine

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Image

There is a time machine for sale in the local junk store and I’m thinking of buying it.  There is a disclaimer taped to the top that advises the machine should be used for display purposes only and that any time travel is at the owner’s risk.   I wonder about this, I’m buying it to travel back in time so it needs to work.

I want to go to a few different places but I need to get back from each of them to move on to the next.  Or maybe I will go from one to another and come back to today when I’ve had my fill.   Whichever way I choose to go I want to be certain I can come home.

I have some things I want to say, things I should have said first time around.  I want to let a few people know they are special, that they touched my life.  I realise I can’t make any huge changes, I need to get back to now but the little things I want to do and say won’t change the course of history.

I’m going to become a time traveler, I wonder if it will change me, will I still be the same person on my return.  I will admit, I don’t know an awful lot about time travel, science has never been one of my strengths.   I’ve watched a lot of Dr Who and loved The Matrix, so hopefully I will be fine.

I won’t be visiting family, the people who shaped me, that could change things forever.  Anyway they are here today and the ones that are not know how much they meant to me.  The people I’m visiting might not even remember the events I do, but I want to tell them what they meant to me.

I want to go back to Mr. Khan’s history classroom.  That week when I was leaving school and he kept me behind.  I remember he said to me that I should use him for a reference if I needed one for a job.  He told me that many of the teachers had little time for me and probably wouldn’t bother.  He said he saw something in me, to give his name.  When I was in that job, because of his glowing reference I wished I had said thank you that day.  I probably did, I had manners even then, but I want to be able to go back and say thank you with feeling.  I want to go back to that room and tell him I did well, I did eventually get my head down to study and that I have always remembered him.

I would like to be sitting on the bench with Mr. Davis when he dies, I don’t want him to be alone.  I want to tell him he made me happy, he made me laugh as a teenager and how sad I was that he was alone in the world.  I want to tell him I asked my mum to pray for him the night he died and that he was added to her prayer list.  Thing is with mum, once you’re on there you don’t leave so she has being praying for Mr. Davis for thirty odd years.  I think Mr. Davis would like to know that.

I want to go back to the girl we teased and called flee bags.  I want to tell her I knew she didn’t have flees, I was being a sheep.  I want to ask her if she would like to play with me and be my friend.  But most of all I want to say sorry for not stopping the bullies.  I hear she is happily married with a family.  My mum says she is a lovely girl, who stopped and gave her a hug last time she saw her.  I want to thank her for that.

I would like to smile and say thank you to my husband the day he said he was leaving.  Tell him it was the right decision, that I’m not as sad as I think that day and that my life has been just great.  I would like to suggest we forget the arguments to come, lets not have them.  Because in twenty years when we meet again we will realise we have grown into totally different people.  Some things really are good for as long as they last.

I don’t want to keep going back in time forever, I need to enjoy today.  So I need to make sure that the things I say today, and from now on, are thought about.  That I let people know how special they are on the very days they are special.

Where would you go?

Kismet

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Walking through town today I was stopped by a man in the street.  I hate to admit it but I immediately apologised for not having any spare change, I didn’t, I was being honest.  This is awful I know, but it is indicative of living in a seaside town.  There are lots of people down on their luck and it is common to be asked for spare change.  I do give, I’m not heartless but I do choose whom I should to give to, I just don’t have that much to go around.  I often give to the same people, I don’t know if this is right or not.  There is the happy guy who stands outside Waitrose, I know he probably isn’t happy but he greets you like an old friend.  There are others who touch me and if I have change in my pocket, I do try and help out.

Getting back to today, when the guy stopped me, he said it wasn’t money he wanted.  Maybe because I had said I didn’t have any, who knows.  But he said he stopped me to tell me I was going to die on March 30th.  He said he was sorry, it had just come to him and he had to tell me.  ‘Well thanks for that’ I said and walked on up the road.  How strange, did he say that to all people without change or just me.  Now I don’t think for a moment he had a vision but it has got me wondering.

It gives me 18 days and March 30th is Mothering Sunday.  Great day for my son and my mother then, I better think very carefully about the words I put in my mum’s card.  Perhaps I should suggest celebrating the day before.

Now I know this sounds quite ridiculous but I’m starting to think of all the ways I could die and what I can do about it.  If I cut out driving on that day, that rules out a road traffic accident and that is one of the main contenders.   I won’t leave the house and that cancels out a few more.  My son wouldn’t poison me, well not intentionally and certainly not on Mothers Day, I wouldn’t think.  I don’t think the house is over any flight paths, unless they go off track.

I have always been a hypochondriac but even I can’t think of an illness that would kill me in 18 days.  The boiler needs checking, I will phone the gas board and get them round in the week.  Bananas, I won’t buy any to be sure there are no Brazilian spiders lurking.  I might mention the spiders to my neighbours too, just to be on the safe side.

Why didn’t I walk up another street yesterday, or get on a bus.  The man would not then have seen me and I wouldn’t be thinking of how to save myself.  He would have said the same to someone else who was too tight to give him any money.

I need to plan, like what I am going to do on March 31st.  After all I would have been cooped up the previous day and will want to get out.  I know, I will start planning my birthday party, not that I usually have one.  But this year I will be alive.