I have a saying ..."that not all females are women" and it is also true on the other side of the coin that "not all males are men". When i was a child i had a belief that has affected my whole life. I used to believe that if a male had hairy arms that he was a man. A very simple and innocent understanding of what i have later found out not to be true. During my early years i lived in a land filled with giants, in fact, anyone over 2ft was a giant through my eyes. But there was this giant that was different than any of the others, he had hairy arms, and in my eyes that made him bigger than any other person in the world because that meant he was a man. A real true full sized hairy armed man and he was my grandfather . I felt he was all mine, not anybody else's just mine, put on this earth just for me, but that was one of his many qualities, he made people feel special, he was my very own personalised man giant. My grandad was the only person i knew who could peel an orange in 2 complete halves. The only person i knew who could peel an apple and the skin would fall to the floor in a carefully carved spiral shape. He was the only person i knew that when i sat on his lap i was in the safest place in the world. This mighty creation of a man was filled with so much love for his family, that is was like an umbrella in a rainstorm, his love protected everyone. My grandfather was like an umbrella made from the finest of designs, the strongest of materials and the most adaptable for any situation. His presence created a calmness, people respected him, family members loved him and me.....he was my hero. Larger than life itself and with a never ending supply of love, wisdom, compassion and understanding, let alone hairy arms, all topped off with a smile that could melt even the toughest of hearts. My grandfather certainly protected me from the rainstorm of that time. but he died when i was young. But even now, sometimes...sometimes i can smell him and i am instantly transported back into the shadow of his greatness and once again the feeling of safety and being "home" overwhelmes me. I love you and i miss you, you are my hero.
The years passed and troubles came and went and more came. Various moves from town to town and even country to country were taken by this traveling boy. Eventually i rented a room on a farm in a quiet country town on the south west coast of england and it was there that i experienced "a man" again. This giant looked like Moses, as much as i can imagine that Moses would look like, i mean, he was big, a white beard, big hands and eyes that you would just fall in love with. So clear and blue that projected kindness beyond my so-called logical thinking. A man who would give all of himself for others, a man who was a pillar of righteousness amongst those who knew him. A man whose grandchildren saw him as a mighty giant as i did and still do. After living with him and his wife for a few months i had the opportunity to buy a new car, so i brought the one i wanted, a black convertable landrover freelander with bull bars and extra spot lights. Upon arrival back at the farm this bearded pillar came running out and was so excited to try and figure out how to take the roof off with me, not for me, but with me as a team. While i lived in this mans presence amazing things happened to me. I changed, my personality changed and i put it all down to him because he did one thing for me....he loved me, i mean he really... really... really... loved me for all of my good and bad parts and considered me his 4th son. Affectionately he gave my car a nickname, it was a country thing to do to name the vehicles, every family member had their car or truck named. My jet black 4x4 was called "try hard" because although it was a landrover, it was a small landrover which was trying hard to be a big one.
So to be in the presence of "2 real men," lets just say that it has been an incredible emotional journey for me. But there is another "man" in my life, one who is younger than me but yet so much bigger. Not big in bone structure but big in spirit. Alot like David of Israel as i could imagine, tending his sheep and goats protecting them from the wolves and bears of the day. A mighty man. This tiny giant has gone through trial after trial and still holds his head up high. He puts others before himself whatever the cost. He encourages even when he cant encourage himself, he loves even though others see nothing to love and he supports even if the entire weight is on his shoulders. Even though i am taller,i look up to this incredible man and so grateful that he is in my life.
I have been very honoured to be in the presence of 3 mighty men and for the influence and input they have each had into my life. 3 completely different people, 3 completely different ages, 3 completely different perspectives of what i call "A MAN"
I am reminded of a beautiful quote from one of my favourite films, "Waking Ned Devine" the scene is this....a couple of elderly friends have lied about a lottery after finding the winning ticket in a dead mans hand. Through pretending to be the dead man and after interviews, the man from the lotto is happy to return with the cheque for 6 million pounds. The finishing line of claiming their victory is very close but at the funeral of the dead man, the man from the lotto appears at the little village church. All hopes are dashed and despair fills the air, for all the local residents have agreed with the fraudsters and their lie for a portion of the winnings. After a few awkward silent moments, the friend speaking changed the name of the deceased and looked at his friend and said this......
"Michael O'Sullivan ...was my great friend, but i don't ever remember telling him that. The words that are spoken at a funeral are spoken to late for the man that is dead. What a wonderful thing it would be to visit your own funeral, to sit at the front and hear what was said....maybe to say a few things yourself. Michael and i grew old together but there were times when we laughed we grew younger. If he was here now, if he could hear what i say, i would congratulate him on being a great man and thank him for being a friend"
As i sit here and see that i too have hairy arms, i now have a new belief, that it is not hairy arms that make a man - but it is what is inside him that really makes one. I have a lot to learn and i don't know if i can ever become one, but just like my old car.......... i will try hard.
© Travelling Boy content belongs to Philip D Norris
Saturday, 28 August 2010
Tuesday, 10 August 2010
The connection
Recently, i have discovered an amazing secret. Something i did not know how to fully appreciate but knew of its presence.
It was on a recent trip to Tel aviv where i stumbled upon (and i say stumbled because it was not something i had planned, but merely an accident that i came across this great secret, or was it?) In order to make this secret my own, i had to stop looking - so i could really see, i had to be still - so i could really travel. To see with an unnatural eye and to travel with my mind beyond the laws of logic and understanding.
The plan was to visit a dear friend, but sometimes my plans are not always the correct road map that i am meant to follow. My friend was unfortunately sick, which left me in a city where i was a stranger and for two days with an empty diary. So i had a choice...i could feel sorry for myself or i could fill it with moments of exploring and adventure. I had taken the friday morning off from work to travel and been stuck on a train for over 2 hours, so it was a waste not to explore something at least. After numerous conversations with myself about what i could do, i decided to explore the ancient port of Jaffa, a dream i had hoped for to share with my friend but situations had changed and my friend was not available to explore with me so i decided to be the brave explorer that i have known is deep within my heart. As i started to walk towards Jaffa, my expectations rose of what i might find. Having seen the pictures and imagined my journey, i found myself becoming excited that a dream of mine was coming true. A simple dream, walking around a town is not a dream surely.....but when you sit on a beach and see a town in the distance it creates a desire to see it, to walk around it, to smell it, but more than that.....to feel part of it, To make it real, to allow it to come alive and to show you something more than the ever-ready tourist postcard on every street corner could show.
The sea was a blue that i had never seen before, it had a depth to it, it had a story to tell and it held many secrets. Maybe the secrets of lost sailors from years gone by. Maybe a secret of Jonah and the story of a whale. Maybe even a few stories of smugglers exporting the pure Israeli diamonds to gain a cheap reward for their efforts. Either way, the sea was alive but carried an air of mystery upon its waves. I looked around and saw a young boy sheltering in the shade from the blistering heat, flying an army coloured kite in the afternoon breeze, smiling as he imagines himself flying that army jet high above the clouds defending his beloved country.
Upon arrival in Jaffa i was overwhelmed with the sense of history and beauty. A present place of calm and tranquillity but yet a history of violence and bloodshed. To me, Jaffa was a place that could only be described as the calm after the storm. People sitting drinking coffee surrounded by brightly coloured flowers and wooden seats, smoking cigarettes and letting the gentle breeze carry the smoke down the passageways of time. Streets and ally-ways clothed with stone steps and overgrown plants, a real treat for the avid explorer like myself. Doorsteps filled with rich colours of old china and doors that speak of majestic carvings that only a wealthy person could afford, yet on a simple and beautiful home, to make a statement perhaps or to reveal a deep secret that what's behind the solid doors is worth protecting. The flowers and greenery reaching up into the skies from the shadowed path-ways filled with a desire to reach into the light however difficult it might seem.
As i wander slowly around the streets of Jaffa i embrace the peace that now lives there and i find myself enjoying the present more than the locals before me would have enjoyed the past.
After Jaffa, i headed into what they call "old Tel Aviv".A historical place filled with charismatic creations of buildings and sculptures. A place that fills the natural eye with the same excitement that i imagine a child would feel on their 6th birthday as they stand in-front of a collection of gifts brought and decorated just for them, wrapped in bright colours and filled with moments of surprise.
I found a simple but beautiful small french style cafe where i sat in the refreshing shade and had a well awaited cold drink. As i turned around to see a nearby building my imagination arose and declared its worth yet again. A house covered in old china, maybe broken plates from years of families arguments, weddings and birthday celebrations belonging to a Greek family who travelled for a different kind of life. Multi-colured plates and tea cups , different shapes and sizes, all pieced together in a 3 dimensional memory wall of art.
My exploring was full of flavour and a richness that i tried to catch on camera but unfortunately a picture does not speak of a journey but only the prize after the eyes have explored and searched high and low. A pirates map shows only the route and not the journey. The fierce wind, the drowning waves, the man who fell over board, all this can not be seen from a map. It will show the treasure, it will show the findings but it does not speak of the journey to find that hidden sparkling wealth. But some timeless moments can be caught on camera. An artist desperate for his neighbours to turn the music down so he can concentrate on his inspiration, His only way of communication is to draw what he feels and with the sound of the bass booming through his walls he struggles to even hold his brush in his arthritic right hand. His way of expression is deeper than words can explain and he is so desperate to release his inner self. So in the middle of the night when everyone is sleeping off the nights parties, in his pyjamas, he quietly tip-toes downs the stone steps of his weather worn apartment block, carrying his paint and an essay of emotions just waiting to be read. He draws, he expresses, he quietly sings an operatic melody he remembers from previous inspirations. He begins to explain his heart, he communicates to the world his deepest emotions in a way that only from true silence and admiration are his desires really heard.
As the sun set on this beautiful city, Tel Aviv began to show me her inner beauty in a different way. The sea became colourful, the buildings became more majestic in the moonlight and the atmosphere began to change. A party spirit was being born under the dark sky. Reds, blues, greens and every colour known to man began to appear as a reflection on what now was a dark black sea. Apartment blocks came alive with kitchen lights that allowed families to prepare their evening meal. Bedroom lights of lovers wanting to spend as much time with other as possible, and lights that made a statement of "Bar is now open"
Sitting on the beach is where i had the greatest discovery. My sandal's were by the side of my chair and my toes were dancing in the sand. The sound of a Van Morrison live album was playing through my ipod.. filled with smooth jazz notes and a atmospheric crying out in his voice i started to observe the people on the beach. A group of teenagers were sitting in the sand when suddenly 3 of them jumped up and ran into the rainbow coloured sea. The 4th young lady was hesitant, you could see she wanted to join her fellow bathers but was anxious. After minutes of clearly battling with herself she undressed to her underwear and suddenly jumped into the air, laughing and feeling free. She ran into the sea to follow her friends alive with the sense of freedom pumping through her veins.
A shadow walks towards me, its a lady with a red and white stripped backpack, her shoes in her hand with the sea gently brushing against her ankles. She puts her bag down on the sand, takes a look at the sea and picks her bag up again and continues walking. A fear of leaving her bag perhaps, she does the same thing moments later, places her bag down and looks at the sea. Clearly she wants to be brave but what if everything she owns is in that bag? can she trust the people on the beach with her belongings? Time after time she places her bag down and pauses, then suddenly a voice comes from an observer sitting in a yellow plastic chair, " would you like to swim? i can watch your bag for you." Obviously scared and shocked she picks up her bag and walks away quickly but returns within 30 minutes to do the same hesitant action again. This time she had made a decison and sat down on the sand with her bag next to her. She had the look of disappointment and regret on her face as she stared at the multicoloured waves, maybe next time she will overcome her fear.
A couple are holding hands walking along the sand, he is taller than her and desperately trying to win her heart by forcing her to dance under the moonlight. The tiny partner was trying to resist his romantic ways as she kept pulling his hand down to her side. A look of despair came across his face and then suddenly everything changed. She reached up and kissed him on the cheek and as he raised his eyes to the sky there was a soft voice coming from his revived heart "thankyou".
When i started this blog i mentioned a secret, a secret that i could only see when i stopped looking. A secret that i could only find when i stood still, and through that stillness i allowed my mind to travel.
The secret is that i have discovered that people all over the world are trying to do one thing. Animals all over the world are trying to do one thing. Plants all over the world are trying to do one thing......
We are all trying to connect, to connect with each other, with ourselves, with history, with the future and with the present.
What did i go to Tel Aviv for? .....
I went because i wanted to connect to the world that sometimes i don't feel part of.
© Travelling Boy content belongs to Philip D Norris
It was on a recent trip to Tel aviv where i stumbled upon (and i say stumbled because it was not something i had planned, but merely an accident that i came across this great secret, or was it?) In order to make this secret my own, i had to stop looking - so i could really see, i had to be still - so i could really travel. To see with an unnatural eye and to travel with my mind beyond the laws of logic and understanding.
The plan was to visit a dear friend, but sometimes my plans are not always the correct road map that i am meant to follow. My friend was unfortunately sick, which left me in a city where i was a stranger and for two days with an empty diary. So i had a choice...i could feel sorry for myself or i could fill it with moments of exploring and adventure. I had taken the friday morning off from work to travel and been stuck on a train for over 2 hours, so it was a waste not to explore something at least. After numerous conversations with myself about what i could do, i decided to explore the ancient port of Jaffa, a dream i had hoped for to share with my friend but situations had changed and my friend was not available to explore with me so i decided to be the brave explorer that i have known is deep within my heart. As i started to walk towards Jaffa, my expectations rose of what i might find. Having seen the pictures and imagined my journey, i found myself becoming excited that a dream of mine was coming true. A simple dream, walking around a town is not a dream surely.....but when you sit on a beach and see a town in the distance it creates a desire to see it, to walk around it, to smell it, but more than that.....to feel part of it, To make it real, to allow it to come alive and to show you something more than the ever-ready tourist postcard on every street corner could show.
The sea was a blue that i had never seen before, it had a depth to it, it had a story to tell and it held many secrets. Maybe the secrets of lost sailors from years gone by. Maybe a secret of Jonah and the story of a whale. Maybe even a few stories of smugglers exporting the pure Israeli diamonds to gain a cheap reward for their efforts. Either way, the sea was alive but carried an air of mystery upon its waves. I looked around and saw a young boy sheltering in the shade from the blistering heat, flying an army coloured kite in the afternoon breeze, smiling as he imagines himself flying that army jet high above the clouds defending his beloved country.Upon arrival in Jaffa i was overwhelmed with the sense of history and beauty. A present place of calm and tranquillity but yet a history of violence and bloodshed. To me, Jaffa was a place that could only be described as the calm after the storm. People sitting drinking coffee surrounded by brightly coloured flowers and wooden seats, smoking cigarettes and letting the gentle breeze carry the smoke down the passageways of time. Streets and ally-ways clothed with stone steps and overgrown plants, a real treat for the avid explorer like myself. Doorsteps filled with rich colours of old china and doors that speak of majestic carvings that only a wealthy person could afford, yet on a simple and beautiful home, to make a statement perhaps or to reveal a deep secret that what's behind the solid doors is worth protecting. The flowers and greenery reaching up into the skies from the shadowed path-ways filled with a desire to reach into the light however difficult it might seem.
As i wander slowly around the streets of Jaffa i embrace the peace that now lives there and i find myself enjoying the present more than the locals before me would have enjoyed the past.
After Jaffa, i headed into what they call "old Tel Aviv".A historical place filled with charismatic creations of buildings and sculptures. A place that fills the natural eye with the same excitement that i imagine a child would feel on their 6th birthday as they stand in-front of a collection of gifts brought and decorated just for them, wrapped in bright colours and filled with moments of surprise.
I found a simple but beautiful small french style cafe where i sat in the refreshing shade and had a well awaited cold drink. As i turned around to see a nearby building my imagination arose and declared its worth yet again. A house covered in old china, maybe broken plates from years of families arguments, weddings and birthday celebrations belonging to a Greek family who travelled for a different kind of life. Multi-colured plates and tea cups , different shapes and sizes, all pieced together in a 3 dimensional memory wall of art.
My exploring was full of flavour and a richness that i tried to catch on camera but unfortunately a picture does not speak of a journey but only the prize after the eyes have explored and searched high and low. A pirates map shows only the route and not the journey. The fierce wind, the drowning waves, the man who fell over board, all this can not be seen from a map. It will show the treasure, it will show the findings but it does not speak of the journey to find that hidden sparkling wealth. But some timeless moments can be caught on camera. An artist desperate for his neighbours to turn the music down so he can concentrate on his inspiration, His only way of communication is to draw what he feels and with the sound of the bass booming through his walls he struggles to even hold his brush in his arthritic right hand. His way of expression is deeper than words can explain and he is so desperate to release his inner self. So in the middle of the night when everyone is sleeping off the nights parties, in his pyjamas, he quietly tip-toes downs the stone steps of his weather worn apartment block, carrying his paint and an essay of emotions just waiting to be read. He draws, he expresses, he quietly sings an operatic melody he remembers from previous inspirations. He begins to explain his heart, he communicates to the world his deepest emotions in a way that only from true silence and admiration are his desires really heard.
As the sun set on this beautiful city, Tel Aviv began to show me her inner beauty in a different way. The sea became colourful, the buildings became more majestic in the moonlight and the atmosphere began to change. A party spirit was being born under the dark sky. Reds, blues, greens and every colour known to man began to appear as a reflection on what now was a dark black sea. Apartment blocks came alive with kitchen lights that allowed families to prepare their evening meal. Bedroom lights of lovers wanting to spend as much time with other as possible, and lights that made a statement of "Bar is now open"
Sitting on the beach is where i had the greatest discovery. My sandal's were by the side of my chair and my toes were dancing in the sand. The sound of a Van Morrison live album was playing through my ipod.. filled with smooth jazz notes and a atmospheric crying out in his voice i started to observe the people on the beach. A group of teenagers were sitting in the sand when suddenly 3 of them jumped up and ran into the rainbow coloured sea. The 4th young lady was hesitant, you could see she wanted to join her fellow bathers but was anxious. After minutes of clearly battling with herself she undressed to her underwear and suddenly jumped into the air, laughing and feeling free. She ran into the sea to follow her friends alive with the sense of freedom pumping through her veins.
A shadow walks towards me, its a lady with a red and white stripped backpack, her shoes in her hand with the sea gently brushing against her ankles. She puts her bag down on the sand, takes a look at the sea and picks her bag up again and continues walking. A fear of leaving her bag perhaps, she does the same thing moments later, places her bag down and looks at the sea. Clearly she wants to be brave but what if everything she owns is in that bag? can she trust the people on the beach with her belongings? Time after time she places her bag down and pauses, then suddenly a voice comes from an observer sitting in a yellow plastic chair, " would you like to swim? i can watch your bag for you." Obviously scared and shocked she picks up her bag and walks away quickly but returns within 30 minutes to do the same hesitant action again. This time she had made a decison and sat down on the sand with her bag next to her. She had the look of disappointment and regret on her face as she stared at the multicoloured waves, maybe next time she will overcome her fear.
A couple are holding hands walking along the sand, he is taller than her and desperately trying to win her heart by forcing her to dance under the moonlight. The tiny partner was trying to resist his romantic ways as she kept pulling his hand down to her side. A look of despair came across his face and then suddenly everything changed. She reached up and kissed him on the cheek and as he raised his eyes to the sky there was a soft voice coming from his revived heart "thankyou".
When i started this blog i mentioned a secret, a secret that i could only see when i stopped looking. A secret that i could only find when i stood still, and through that stillness i allowed my mind to travel.
The secret is that i have discovered that people all over the world are trying to do one thing. Animals all over the world are trying to do one thing. Plants all over the world are trying to do one thing......
We are all trying to connect, to connect with each other, with ourselves, with history, with the future and with the present.
What did i go to Tel Aviv for? .....
I went because i wanted to connect to the world that sometimes i don't feel part of.
© Travelling Boy content belongs to Philip D Norris
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