The Truth About Cats and Dogs

Hi!

Last week some friends came over for a few drinks, and Scott told me this joke, which I loved.

Now, before I go on, I'm a dog person.  He is a cat person, but loves my dog almost as much as my dog loves him.  And that's the funny thing about cats and dogs, and their owners.

Anyway, back to this joke.

Two dogs and a cat die, and go to heaven.  God approaches the first dog, a German Shepherd, and asks him, what do you believe in? The dog looks God in the eye and says. "I believe in protecting my master and keeping him safe."
God says to him, "You are a good dog, faithful and true. You should sit on my right side!"
He turns to the other dog, a Border Collie, and he asks, what do you believe in?
The Collie replies, "I believe in being obeying my Master's every command."
God says to him, "You are loyal and obedient. You should sit on my left side!"
God then turns to the cat, a sleek Persian, and asks, what do you believe in?
The cat looks at God and says, "I believe you're in my chair!"

So, with that in mind - whether you are a dog person, pr a cat person, or believe in God or not;
I would like to wish you a very happy December!!

Goodwill to All at this time of the year.

The Truth is Out There

truth

/tru:ϴ/

noun

1.    the quality or state of being true.

"he had to accept the truth of her accusation"

synonyms:		veracity, truthfulness, verity, sincerity, candour, honesty, genuineness; More

o    that which is true or in accordance with fact or reality.

noun: the truth

"tell me the truth"

synonyms:		the fact of the matter, what actually/really happened, the case, so; More

o    a fact or belief that is accepted as true.

plural noun: truths

"the emergence of scientific truths"

synonyms:

fact, verity, certainty, certitude; More

I was browsing through Facebook the other day and stumbled across a discussion on politics.  Actually, what really happened was, I was browsing Facebook the other day looking for some fun cat memes and had someone else’s political rant subjected upon me.  

The content of the “discussion” was the same as usual – one person saying left-wing is right, the other saying right-wing is right.  Some Liberal saying middle-of-the road is right, everyone shouting down the other opinions, some name calling, some bigotry, some closed minds but very open mouths.

For a start, I have never understood the need some people have to argue with strangers about politics.  What’s the point?  They’re suddenly going to see the light? “Oh wow, I’ve never looked at it like that!  I’ve been wrong all these years!”  Really?  

Whenever I see stuff like that I always recall that wonderful quote; “Never argue with an idiot. People watching won’t be able to tell the difference.”

But the thing I wanted to mention isn’t the futility of arguing with anyone, about anything, on forums and social media – it’s this… buried deep within this rant was someone who said

“You just cannot trust mainstream media to deliver the truth these days.  Thank God for Facebook and Twitter!”

And I almost choked on my cup of coffee over the ridiculousness of that statement.  

It brought to mind another of my favourite quotes – this time attributed to Rick Warren:  “A lie doesn’t become the truth, wrong doesn’t become right, and evil doesn’t become good just because it’s accepted by the majority.”

And that made me think “what is truth”?  What is it really?  Is popular opinion the truth? Well, we all know that’s not correct. Truth is, I suppose, whatever the facts tell us is the truth – but what happens if the person reporting those facts is lying?  Or presents those facts in a biased way so as to skew the perception of them?  How can we ever trust what we are being told is true?

It used to be that we would go to our personal, trusted source for the truth – something like the BBC perhaps?  Or our favourite newspaper?  But in this age of misinformation, I suspect even those media giants are sometimes swayed by the personal bias of the reporter, or maybe even (dare I say it) the political leanings of the moguls that own them?  How can we trust they’re giving us the whole, unbiased, carefully researched truth?

I find it almost impossible to believe anything I see, hear or read these days.  When images can be manipulated, articles faked up to look like coming from genuine sources, and the proliferate use of fake news to discredit people or incite argument. 

How can I trust social media, when some posts are desperate to promote likes, shares and ReTweets – knowing that some of these will end up re-branded and sold on to advertisers for profit, or maybe worse (if you believe everything you read) used to fund terrorism?

One final note – maybe the truth is whatever you want it to be? Maybe you only see what you want to see? Believe what you want to believe?  It used to be that if you didn’t hold with mainstream belief, you’d be labelled a sceptic; and if you believed the goal of the messenger was to promote some self-interest , you’d be a cynic – and these were negative labels” “Oh you’re such a cynic!” or “Stop being so sceptical! Just accept it’s the truth!”

I personally feel we should be more cynical, more sceptical, and willing to disbelieve.  I don’t think we should take anything at face value (or as gospel to use an alternative idiom).  

Before I accept something as the truth, I always think – What’s the source of this information? Can it be verified elsewhere?  What is the writer trying to achieve by writing/publishing this? 
Not everything that is posted on social media is as innocent as it looks, so if you’re unwilling to be sceptical or cynical, at least don’t be gullible!

One more quote before I go. I Googled it so I know it must be true!
"You can't believe everything you read on the internet." ~Abraham Lincoln, 1868

Flights of Fancy

I was just talking to a friend about what our plans are for the weekend.  As it’s likely to be warm and sunny we both agreed gardening and barbecue would be the likely outcome – but we know our plans could change.  The weather might break, relatives might descend upon us unexpectedly.  Who knows?

So then we got to talking about popular TV shows, where the family in an inner city in the UK decide to sell up and move abroad, a place in the sun, living the dream.  What are they hoping to do when they get there?  Well, we’ll buy a couple of bikes and do them up, and cycle to the village and buy some bread and cheese, and we’ll hang out in the local tavern and drink rustic local wines and everything will be lovely.

That, my friend, is a flight of fancy.  It’s what we’d like to think we’d do – but if you’ve ever read “A Year in Provence” by Peter Mayle, you’ll soon realise reality can be a rather rude changer of plans.

What will likely happen is this:  You buy two bikes, do them up to about 50% of what you’d like, but your language barrier means most of the bits you need cannot be bought.  You’ll cycle to the village, but it’s further than you thought, and the speeding locals come dangerously close, and by the time you arrive you’re too exhausted and dirty to want to shop.  You’ll bowl up at the local tavern but the locals distrust strangers – especially those from the UK with their dirty clothing and half renovated bikes.  You cannot understand a word they’re saying, and the wine tastes dreadful because they give you the cheap nasty stuff.

6 months later you realise your pension doesn’t convert well to Euros, and you’re still paying UK tax, so you have to find work.  Your dreams of that little small holding, growing your own fruit and veg, a few chickens becomes a nightmare as you struggle to find enough hours in the day.  The garden looks more like a jungle, you’re still struggling with the language, and the barn you were hoping to convert into a holiday let has had its planning permission denied for the third and final time.  The local mayor no longer answers your calls, and even the bread and cheese has lost its charm.

That inner city life no longer seems so stressful.  At least most of the locals understood you, and the shops in the high street had what you needed, and you had a steady income – even if you were doing a job you were bored with.  “This is your Captain speaking!  FancyFlight 236 from UK will be losing altitude shortly and you may encounter some turbulence.  Please fasten your seatbelts and return all seat backs and trays to an upright position!”

But don’t lose heart.  All change is difficult to start with, and the greatest rewards often follow the bleakest of struggles.  So, when the unexpected relatives turn up, hand them a trowel and pop another couple of sausages on the Barbie – it’ll all work out in the end!

Synchronicity – can it be explained?

The other night I had a vivid dream in which I was going to a party in Africa, and as we trundled along the dusty road we were passed by the actor Terry Thomas.  The other occupants of our truck were trying to recall his name… “Ah, that’s Terry… er, Terry…” So I answered “Duke.  Terry Duke”

Everyone agreed with me, and we went on happily.  We did not encounter Terry again – a cameo, a walk-on part in my imaginary scene.

I won’t bore you further with the dream because the rest of it is immaterial.  What’s important was the name.  Terry Duke.

The next morning I was struck by the name, because as soon as I woke up, I thought “Not Duke, Thomas – he was Terry Thomas!”  But out of curiosity I Googled Terry Duke, and discovered he wrote a book called The Goddess of Wisdom and Me. (Among others).  I downloaded the eBook that very morning and started to read it, and I must say I was hooked – his style of writing and subject content is right up my street!  It struck a chord, resonated in a way that has made me think more deeply about the world I live in, and what might be hidden behind the scenes of what I can see, hear and touch.

So where did his name come from?
I appreciate there’re a million little things that go apparently unnoticed during the day to day that our subconscious retains and spews out in our dreams seemingly at random – and therefore I know it’s stupid to emphatically deny I ever saw anything to do with Terry Duke before the dream – but I swear it’s true!

I can normally identify the various links, themes, concepts, images and such in my dreams – this was sufficiently obtuse to make me wonder why.

And as I sat in the rain swept supermarket car park this morning (waiting for the doors to open at 8am) I watched people driving to work, isolated in their metallic cocoons.  They all seemed oblivious to everything and everyone around them - seeing the other vehicles only enough to avoid collision, but not really aware of the occupants or their lives.  I was struck by how blind we all are; how asleep we are while we are awake, and I wondered whether we can ever truly wake up?

Thank you, Terry Duke, for popping by – It was nice to meet you.

Addendum - It's now May 4th and having read about 65% of the book The Goddess of Wisdom and Me, I must say it veers away from the relationship between a human and a God into a graphically detailed description of what the protagonist would do to "evil" people if he had godlike powers - it all becomes a bit self aggrandisement after a while, so I skipped about 20% to see if it would improve, and it doesn't.  Not sure how Mr Duke got into my head, but I'm showing this particular novel of his the door.  I'm now looking at his 2nd book - The Roswell General Store.

Why do you write?

I was originally going to title this post why do I write, but soon changed it because I want to engage you, invite you into this as a discussion, rather than me monologue at you.

Now I know that you're not really going to respond to my questions, so it's going to end up as a monologue anyway, but I really do want to interact - and that word there, interact, is the crux of why I write.

In real life, I talk a lot.  But not often.  No.  I don't "interact" very much at all, because I don't think I'm all that interesting and I get the impression people would rather be doing something else.  I get interrupted a lot. I... Hold on. Bullet points would be better here!

1. I assume I'm boring because:
   a) people I'm talking to let other people interrupt me.
   b) they talk over me as if what I'm saying is unimportant.
   c) they're not listening anyway.
   
2. I can't make "small talk". I'm not really bothered where you bought your margarine, or how much your shoes cost.  I'm not concerned if your 8 year old son is playing netball this weekend.  I want to know why you don't see in five dimensions.  I want to hear your ghost stories.  I want to know where your atoms were before you were born.
   
3. When I speak, it's because I have something to add to a conversation or topic. Not because I need to fill silence and not because I want people to notice me.  If I wanted people to notice me, I'd dye my hair pink - but that would be bad. Very bad... because people would notice me. (For the wrong reasons!)

Whoa! - do you see what happened there??  I started off wanting to talk about me, changed it to talking about you (to be polite, and engage you) but immediately shifted back to talking about me!  How crass!  Sorry.  Where were we?

Oh yes - why do you write? What do you gain from committing your thoughts and inner quandaries to the public domain, the global forum?  Is it some form of catharsis?  Is it like a Catholic priest's confessional? Oh, wow!  Are you some Orator - like Socrates?  Or a Diarist - like Pepys??

What do you want to achieve?  Do you want people to read your words for entertainment? Do you want to inform? Do you want to make the World a better place?  Persuade someone through your clever use of argument to change their opinion? 

Maybe you're not a writer - maybe you prefer to read?  OK - in that case this post is only tenuously linked to you, but you could just substitute write for read, and carry on...

The most important question though, is, Why Are You Here? Are you looking for inspiration? Guidance?

Idle Curiosity? Did you search key-words in Google and click on my link or did you click Next... somewhere and end up here by mistake?  Are you searching for blogging enlightenment?  Are you looking for some inner wisdom?  Did you wake up this morning and think "Hang on a sec... Where DID the iron in my blood come from?"

(I can sort of answer that last one, but it'd have to be another time)

Why, why, WHY do you write?  Do you want to know why I write?  Because of this.  Because you - YOU, whoever you are, wherever you are, are right here... HERE... now.  I have touched your life for the (in the Universe's time-frame) briefest moment, and I have connected with you.  Two human beings coming together for a moment.  That is awesome, don't you think?  I have written something, and you are reading it right this moment!  You could be on the other side of the world in 2018, or on Mars Colony in 2156.  You are  listening to me speaking to you, and I am so happy because of this.  So very happy.

Why do I write?  Because I want to connect.  I just want to reach out and touch another person's mind, albeit briefly, and be there - just for a moment, and for that moment, be alive in their mind. I want to help them think, just for a fraction, about who they are, how they connect with other people - and if, as a result, they send someone a letter, or a text, or an email, and connect - then my writing has done what I hope it would do - inspire someone else to write.

So. Why do you write?

Why we never grow old

Today I want to broach the subject of why we never grow old.
"But that's rubbish Collywobs!  Of course we grow old."
Well, we do, but also we don't.

Our bodies age, sure - but tell me, what age are you in your head?  I bet you are somewhere between a late teenager and about 30.  My physical age is 53, but I still feel 30 ish.  I dream I can run and climb and parkour like I could when I was that age, and my physical appearance in my dreams is of that age.

I never dream that I am grey haired, over-weight and getting on in years.  That is only my physical body.
So while, biologically, my system is deteriorating, mentally I am a youth.

I know there are some pretty nasty illnesses out there that can rob us of this faculty, and I hope that one day we find a cure for them - because I believe nothing robs us of our dignity more, than losing our identity, memory and sense of self.  But as we age, I find it fascinating that our mental age never really changes beyond the age of 30 ish.  Why is that?

Science would say that we develop, mentally, in stages of 7 years - that the first 7 years we develop motor skills, speech and reasoning and so on.  From 7 to 14 we develop social skills, a sense of our own identity, and an idea of who we want to be.

From 14 to 21 we start to wonder where we fit in with the world, what do we want to do with our lives?  What career?  We discover the rest of the world and sometimes want to explore it.  We develop our sense of sexuality and understand our developing emotions.  And 21 to 28?  Well, by the time we get to 28, hopefully we're about where we want to be, with the person we want to be with, doing what we think we were born to do.

Now I know this is all very general and loose and glib, but I think once we reach this stage, our mind stops "growing".  That's not to say we don't develop our cognitive skills any more, or improve at all - but I think our mental clock that ticks our life away stops about then - it's almost like we've accelerated from nought to 28, and then we cruise.  I don't think we age (mentally) from then on.

So why is that?  I think it's a survival mechanism - similar to pushing through pain and not giving up.  If we allow ourselves to start dwelling on getting old, I think we would start expecting to feel old, and with that would come a sense of dread - Old Father Time and the Grim Reaper checking their schedule to pencil you in.  Instead, I think we remain young in our heads to keep us believing in a form of immortality, extending our own life expectancy, warding off the onset of old age. 

What do you think?