Wise Crocodiles

When I was a teenager I got into the habit of reading my horoscope. You know the type? 'A tall dark handsome man will sweep you off your feet sometime this week.' Which usually meant that you would be knocked over by some man on a bicycle or suchlike. And when I met Barry I would read his horoscope too. Although when it said he would be swept off his feet by a tall dark handsome man, well, I took that with a healthy dose of scepticism. And now that Barry is dead, you would think I would stop this craziness ... but no, my eye immediately looks up his predictions for the week. What do I expect? 'You will be sitting on a cloud surrounded by 100 virgins playing harps while angels feed you on heavenly grapes.' Wouldn't that be interesting? I have been known to sit in a doctor's surgery reading years old magazines and still perusing the horoscope ... in the vague hope that I can remember that far back to see if that prediction really did come true. My brother-in-law worked in the magazine printing business and assured me that the horoscopes were a crock of rubbish, and yes, I do know this, but ...well I am silly that way. So last week I looked to see if my sign would tell me that I would come into some unexpected cash and go on an exotic holiday ... it didn't of course. But Barry's said 'A trusted family member will tell lies about you that will be devastating to others as well as yourself.' Really? I laughed and said, 'nonsense.' But yes, it did happen and yes, it was truly awful. So I sat there reading her vitriolic nonsense and crying my eyes out ... when suddenly a peace came over me and it was as if Barry was talking softly into my ear. 'We know it is not true and if you respond, she will twist it to her own ends.' And it was all okay. Well not really okay okay, but as good as it gets. As I am ancient as the hills, I do understand that people do things that are mean and nasty out of spite or anger or hurt. One good thing did come out of it ... I was able to speak to my two sisters and catch up on their lives. Silver lining to a grey cloud definitely.

I went to see my doctor this week. She did the whole 'ummmm, ummm, um.' thing that makes you feel like a ten year old child in the Principal's office waiting to be yelled at. All the bad things in my health were down, all the good stuff was up but she said, 'You can do better.' What? Now I really felt like a child in front of a Principal. At age 10 I actually gave up trying to please the adults around me because I was never living up to my potential. School report cards would be littered with statements of 'Pat can do better and is not trying hard enough.' So I spent my school years happily muddling along in the middle of the class. And yes, my potential was never met ... obviously. Although as I often boast, I have a high IQ ... which really means nothing at all. I was watching a podcast where they said very clever children often cannot read well in the early years. They are great mimics and can memorise whole books as long as there are pictures to remind them. It is only when the pictures are removed that suddenly the child has to read words. Many children learn by the 'look' of the word ... and yes, I did that. They can learn to spell a difficult word but their minds do not retain that word ... and yes, I did that too. Two weeks after reciting a long word, I would be clueless. My daughter, Nix, is a high school teacher and her school have decided to change the way school is taught. It is more about building relationships than learning by rote. She took a few kids to visit an writers conference fair ... and introduced them to Dungeons and Dragons. That old board game that parents hated. Anyhow it is fantastic for autistic kids because it gives them excitement within boundaries. The teenagers loved it and it is now part of their learning ... they design 3 D characters ... do game and set designs and actually graduate in something they enjoy. Can you imagine if they had that in my day? I would have been top of the class with my weird imagination and ability to create strange and wonderful stuff from nothing. I would have had the confidence to say to my doctor, 'I am doing fantastically, thank you. Look at my bloo blaa scores. They are exceptional. Don't try and reduce me to a blubbering mess with your negativity.' Or something similar. So I wandered down the passage and saw the Clinical nurse who immediately said, 'Give me a high five Pat. I have just seen your health report. Wow, how did you do it? Fantastic.' Aaaaah my faith in kind people was restored and I went home floating on a cloud of positivity. We all need a reminder of our potential and successes. Me maybe more than I should.

I went to the local flea market on Saturday. Not that I wanted to buy stuff, but hey, I have to support the locals. My nephew borrows my trailer and takes his stuff there to sell and I do try and pop in every few months. I said hello to Hilary and her manuka honey, Morne (the nephew) and his assorted stuff and then bought some short bread from Sally. Chatted to Helen about helping with an art class at a local school. I must just add that Helen never remembers Morne's name and this time she said, 'Is your nephew here? I think his name is Teflon or something.' Yup, Teflon sounds just about right. Handles himself well under heated circumstances. He used to be a policeman in South Africa. Anyhow, I wandered over to a lady with knick knacks of assorted gorgeousness. I am a sucker for a pretty box or an embroidered handkerchief ... or something shiny. I must have been a Jackdaw in a previous incarnation. Anyhow, she had these hand made doilies ... and I immediately saw the benefit of the delicate stitches being pressed into wet clay to make a pretty design. So I paid over a few pennies and bought it. She was a bit concerned that I didn't want the rest of the set .... how would my lounge/coffee tables look with odd doilies? Good grief what next? Lace curtains? Yikes. Then I saw a butter knife that could be used to scrape the clay into designs ... and she threw her hands up at me in despair. All her delicate frilly stuff being used to play in mud. What next? Maybe she was like the teacher that wrote on my report cards, 'not living up to her potential, can do better.' I like being considered strange. My Dad always said that our schooling system was designed to weed out the eccentrics amongst us ... and eccentrics are good things to have around. They make us think in different ways ... and view life through glasses that we would not normally put on.

I was watching a Netflix doco/thingy about Nicholas, the last Tzar of Russia ... and how his weakness created a perfect storm to destroy his family and country. And I also saw one about Queen Vic. She was awful to her kids. The little things we do can cause huge problems in life. There is a story about two Sequoia trees growing in the gardens of a university. These trees can grow for 3000 years and to great heights. So when one of the trees died, they investigated the cause. This was a relatively young tree and yet it had

died. They found that the reason was the aquifer that the tree used for its water was compromised by the erection of a building close by. We all need to be nourished by good 'water' and positive words. When we are denied this source of goodness we all wither and never reach our potential. But interestingly enough, the tree right next to it survived. One adapted and the other didn't. One sought out good water by sinking its roots deeper. As parents we can make things easy for our kids. Thinking we are helping them by removing all obstacles in their path. But we are weakening them. I watched as my granddaughter ran a cross country race. They ran up hills and down dales and just to make life interesting, the organisers had placed hay bales that the children needed to climb over to complete the course. Some runners got to the bales of hay and wanted to give up. But their fellow competitors raced past them, jumped over the bales ... or scrambled over them depending on their size and ability. And that inspired the others to try and continue on. Queen Vic spent her life mourning the loss of her husband and bemoaning the survival of her children ... and Tzar Nicholas tried to remove all the obstacles from his children's journeys. Neither were successful as parents. Nicholas was the richest man in the world in financial terms ... and it reminded me of that old saying 'No success can compensate for failure in the home.' A friend dreamt of Barry last week. They were walking towards a shallow river. She suggested they walk through the water to the other side ... and Barry said, 'No, the water is full of dangerous crocodiles' She could not see the crocodiles, but trusted Barry's wisdom and stayed safe. I am really grateful that Barry's wisdom was with me this week. Do you know that violence and verbal abuse stunts our children's ability to learn and retain stuff ... sorry, I am sure I have told you this before, but it bears repeating. I never want to be a Queen Vic or even a Tzar Nicholas in my attitude to my children or grandchildren. I want to sprinkle them with positive vibes and happy thoughts and be there to help them when they need to get over obstacles. Just not too much.

Okay that last paragraph was a bit of a ramble. That's what happens when I try to connect the dots between trees and documentaries and stuff about life. Maybe I am a bit eccentric in that way. I do worry that I am a bit too 'preachy' at times, but I am allowed to be a crazy eccentric. It feels good to be nutty and daft. My Dad would be proud of his odd offspring. And maybe him and Barry are sitting with 100 virgins and eating heavenly grapes together, laughing at us mortals struggling with nasty croc infested swamps of life and lies and stuff.