Throughout our lives i am certain that journeys are given to us to reveal a various cocktail of things, our character, our hopes and dreams, our abilities and even our determination, yet none of these journeys can be greater than to win a trophy for our achievement's on completion, for me....the greatest reward is that of a good woman's heart. I am not comparing a woman's heart to a trophy or am i? A trophy is a symbol of a sense of achievement, honour, determination hard work and a focus that goes un-distracted. The reward that I aim for is to be allowed into that very secret place in a woman's heart. They all have one, its part of what being a woman is. But to get to that place, if the heart is worth the journey then the heart is worth the sacrifice.
When a long distance runner searches for a race, im sure that he searches for the one that would give him the most honour. That people would be in awe that he had achieved such a pain staking journey to the finishing line, that his endurance would be without doubt visible to even the untrained eye. How many of us can actually run a marathon? 26 miles of pounding step after step onto the hard concrete of city streets, despite the weather conditions, despite the muscle aches and most definitely despite the "wall". They say, that when a runner is near to the end of his race he hits this invisible "wall" that challenges him or her more than the race itself. At this point is where you see their true character. Do they quit, or do they continue? Do they rest and be overtaken by another competitor or do they fight with everything they have left within them. The only way through that wall is to draw strength on the times and challenges that have gone before them. You can't have a tomato without having a tomato plant grow the tomato. This takes time, watering, tender loving care and endurance and to find a way of battling against the storms of life. The reward of crossing that finishing line for the runner is their focus, its what they have spent days, weeks, months training for, and when they do cross that line they can sleep peacefully knowing that they ran the race and didn't give up, that they kept focussed on their reward despite the obstacles.
So if the reward of crossing that final line is their focus, how much more can the reward be for winning someone's heart? If the heart is given instantly, then the giver dosen't realise the preciousness of it. But if the woman knows how special her heart is then in her wisdom she will hold onto it until she is absolutely certain that the man has run the race and has the endurance and commitment to continue despite distractions, obstacles, easier races and even feelings of doubt of their own abilities.
I can not speak for all males, but for me.......to be allowed into that secret garden, then it is going to cost me something, in fact it will cost me alot personally and if it dosen't then she is not worth it. It is going to push me to my limits, the journey will reveal to me my own abilities and strengths and weaknesses, but if i stay focussed on my reward then i have the same chance as anybody else, but without knowing if i will cross that finish line and not allowing my own doubts to trip me up along my way, then to run with my head held high and constantly looking at what i want needs to be the rules for this race.
Even if i do get to that place in a woman's heart it does not mean that i could give up and put my feet up and think "i'm here, you are not moving me out" NO! The journey to that special place is only the beginning. In fact, i think it is easier to get there than it is to stay there. Especially if there are past hurts floating around, then it will be a constant journey of paying attention, observing and learning every minute of every day.
A few years ago while in the funeral trade i witnessed something that has stayed with me. One day we got a call to go pick up a deceased man from his home, and upon arrival we found notes on the table by the front door to the milkman, the newspaper boy and the electric company, notes of final payment for the outstanding amounts. My colleague and i walked into the front room and it was there that it took my breath away. The husband had heart problems and was given a few months to live, but his wife couldn't bear to be without him and on the sofa were two elderly people holding hands, both taken the same amount of pills and overdosed 15 seconds apart. This spoke of lots of things to me, love, commitment, togetherness but it spoke of something else which i have just realised in the last 2 minutes......it spoke of him running the race, the race to stay in her secret place. He had to work to stay there, but she allowed him. That picture of these two people stays in my mind and i am grateful and so privileged to witness not only love, but completeness on that Sunday morning.
I do have a woman in mind that has actually without even knowing it been the inspiration for this particular story and when i think about her, when i look at her, it dawns on me very quickly that i need to get into training and although i do not even know if i will cross that finishing line, i do know this....if i don't train, if i don't try, if it dosen't cost me something then i will never know what it is like to be in that secret place of a woman's heart. I am sure that the reward of winning a race becomes more precious with every step taken.
The un-nerving thing about starting this particular journey is that it has two parts, the first...... is that i know however hard i work the final decision will be hers, and second .....just like a marathon, i know i am not the only competitor. The reward is her heart....... which can only be described as something precious.
When the rain is blowing in your face
And the whole world is on your case
I would offer you a warm embrace
To make you feel my love.
When the evening shadows and the stars appear
And there is no one to dry your tears
I could hold you for a million years
To make you feel my love.
I know you haven't made your mind up yet
But I would never do you wrong
I've known it from the moment that we met
No doubt in my mind where you belong.
I'd go hungry, I'd go blind for you
I'd go crawling down the aisle for you
There ain't nothing that I wouldn't do
To make you feel my love.
The storms are raging on a rolling sea
Down the highway of regret
The winds of change are blowing wild and free
But you ain't seen nothing like me yet.
There ain't nothing that I wouldn't do
Go to the ends of the earth for you
Make you happy, make your dreams come true
To make you feel my love
Make you feel my love - Bob Dylan
© Travelling Boy content belongs to Philip D Norris
Sunday, 3 October 2010
Friday, 1 October 2010
Being watched
I have seen some wonderful things in my life, but none as wonderful as my older brother. He was brave, wise and beautiful, but most of all, he was my friend. All the chicks wanted to be with him, all the guys wanted to be like him. He used to say that this bracelet that he wore around his ankle was a mark of honour and the number engraved upon it was indeed the amount of times that a father had approached him in the hope to make a match for his daughter. But i think a more understandable reason was that it was a constant reminder of his rebellious nature regarding the times that he played up at bedtime and the number is actually a record of the times my parents smacked him for not obeying them. He was a real high flyer and a good teacher of the ways of this world. When we were young we used to go on adventures together and we would experience some amazing things.
Despite the good times, i cannot forget this particular day. The air was clear and it was time for adventure. Turree and i woke up as the light came to say hello and after singing our morning songs we left the warmth and comfort of our home with exploring as our focus. We would see some colours that reminded us of our cousins in far away places, colours of a richness and a warmth. On our travels we had seen big silver birds with fire coming out from behind them. These masters of the skies would swoop and dive and move faster than the fastest eagle. They were big and they made a loud noise. We would try and be like them, we would fly through the sky after each other, going one way and another at high speeds. Our wings would be outstretched to allow more speed to catapult us forward. My trusted wing commander and i were kings in the air, a team that could predict each others moves. We flew through the air like a big fish travels through the water, gracefully and with power. Lifting our wings a little we would turn and dive, the sound of the air against our feathers would remind us of grandma's rumberling stomach.
I looked down to the ground to see creatures moving without feathers. These creatures were clothed in many different colours. They were many different sizes and some...... some would have something attached to them which had a fire on the end and smoke came from it.
" Look at those down there Turree"
"Where? " he said,
"Down there, see the one with the smoke?"
"Who maaaaaan?" was the answer i heard.
We both laughed because Turree had a tendency to speak with a slur in his voice as if he had been inhaling some of that smoke that we had seen, but eventually he saw who i was talking about and with his laughter he swooped straight into a mid-flight roll, but this was his final act of aerial acrobatics. I did not know that this day was going to come, this was something he had never taught me and something we had never discussed. As he rolled he laughed, and as he laughed he rolled more. He started to fall from the sky, out of control and couldn't recover. Still laughing he turned over and over and was heading for one of the big things that come out of the ground, the large things that blow in the wind that look like they are standing on one leg...
"Tuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrree" i shouted in desperation. It was too late, he could not get back in control of his spinning and went face first, died instantly, and his body fell to the ground with a thump.
I flew back to my home, told my parents what had happened and while my mother comforted me, my father said...........
"Do not worry my son, Turree will be in feathen, for this is where all good birds go, but it is up to you to keep him alive in your memory. We believe that if you keep someone in your memory, they will never die."
The days went past and i had lost my desire to explore. I watched the heat giver rise in the morning and go to sleep in the dark. Every time it appeared i would try and sing my morning song, but it was hard. I missed my flying companion, my brother and my best friend.
One dark time i was looking at the lights above me, everyone was sleeping and it was very quiet. It was then that it suddenly dawned on me that I was doing everything that Turree did the opposite to. He was life, he was adventurous, he was brave and here i was hiding, afraid and not living my life as i should.
The cold season had come and gone and I had to force myself. It was not easy to fly alone. I had got used to having somebody look out for me, protect me, make me laugh and even find me food when i didnt have the energy, but this was a time where i had to really spread my wings. To learn to fly by myself, to learn to be safe, to learn to provide for myself and to keep the passion of exploring alive, for two reasons.......for Turree and for me.
I sat on the edge of my home high in the air, i said to myself.....
"Turree, give me the strength, the passion, the ability to keep flying"
It was at that moment that my heart was filled with peace and i heard my mother say to me
"Watch out for that turree, because he's watching out for you"
I jumped, i opened my wings and i felt the air again. The rush of adrenaline filled me as i swooped down and around the various obstacles that crossed my path, my desire to explore started to cloth me again like the warmth of the morning after the dark. I wanted to explore more, i wanted to go to places i had never been, to see new things, new colours and to meet other explorers. I wanted to live my life for the sake of Turree, my trusted friend and brother.
I noticed alot of things on those early journeys, but i have never experienced anything as wonderful as imagining my brother flying with me again, because i too now believe that when i keep his memory alive......he is always with me.
© Travelling Boy content belongs to Philip D Norris
Despite the good times, i cannot forget this particular day. The air was clear and it was time for adventure. Turree and i woke up as the light came to say hello and after singing our morning songs we left the warmth and comfort of our home with exploring as our focus. We would see some colours that reminded us of our cousins in far away places, colours of a richness and a warmth. On our travels we had seen big silver birds with fire coming out from behind them. These masters of the skies would swoop and dive and move faster than the fastest eagle. They were big and they made a loud noise. We would try and be like them, we would fly through the sky after each other, going one way and another at high speeds. Our wings would be outstretched to allow more speed to catapult us forward. My trusted wing commander and i were kings in the air, a team that could predict each others moves. We flew through the air like a big fish travels through the water, gracefully and with power. Lifting our wings a little we would turn and dive, the sound of the air against our feathers would remind us of grandma's rumberling stomach.
I looked down to the ground to see creatures moving without feathers. These creatures were clothed in many different colours. They were many different sizes and some...... some would have something attached to them which had a fire on the end and smoke came from it.
" Look at those down there Turree"
"Where? " he said,
"Down there, see the one with the smoke?"
"Who maaaaaan?" was the answer i heard.
We both laughed because Turree had a tendency to speak with a slur in his voice as if he had been inhaling some of that smoke that we had seen, but eventually he saw who i was talking about and with his laughter he swooped straight into a mid-flight roll, but this was his final act of aerial acrobatics. I did not know that this day was going to come, this was something he had never taught me and something we had never discussed. As he rolled he laughed, and as he laughed he rolled more. He started to fall from the sky, out of control and couldn't recover. Still laughing he turned over and over and was heading for one of the big things that come out of the ground, the large things that blow in the wind that look like they are standing on one leg...
"Tuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrree" i shouted in desperation. It was too late, he could not get back in control of his spinning and went face first, died instantly, and his body fell to the ground with a thump.
I flew back to my home, told my parents what had happened and while my mother comforted me, my father said...........
"Do not worry my son, Turree will be in feathen, for this is where all good birds go, but it is up to you to keep him alive in your memory. We believe that if you keep someone in your memory, they will never die."
The days went past and i had lost my desire to explore. I watched the heat giver rise in the morning and go to sleep in the dark. Every time it appeared i would try and sing my morning song, but it was hard. I missed my flying companion, my brother and my best friend.
One dark time i was looking at the lights above me, everyone was sleeping and it was very quiet. It was then that it suddenly dawned on me that I was doing everything that Turree did the opposite to. He was life, he was adventurous, he was brave and here i was hiding, afraid and not living my life as i should.
The cold season had come and gone and I had to force myself. It was not easy to fly alone. I had got used to having somebody look out for me, protect me, make me laugh and even find me food when i didnt have the energy, but this was a time where i had to really spread my wings. To learn to fly by myself, to learn to be safe, to learn to provide for myself and to keep the passion of exploring alive, for two reasons.......for Turree and for me.
I sat on the edge of my home high in the air, i said to myself.....
"Turree, give me the strength, the passion, the ability to keep flying"
It was at that moment that my heart was filled with peace and i heard my mother say to me
"Watch out for that turree, because he's watching out for you"
I jumped, i opened my wings and i felt the air again. The rush of adrenaline filled me as i swooped down and around the various obstacles that crossed my path, my desire to explore started to cloth me again like the warmth of the morning after the dark. I wanted to explore more, i wanted to go to places i had never been, to see new things, new colours and to meet other explorers. I wanted to live my life for the sake of Turree, my trusted friend and brother.
I noticed alot of things on those early journeys, but i have never experienced anything as wonderful as imagining my brother flying with me again, because i too now believe that when i keep his memory alive......he is always with me.
© Travelling Boy content belongs to Philip D Norris
Wednesday, 29 September 2010
To rust
Tattoos and scars are different things. Unless a person has been forced to have the external design injected into their skin - then normally a tattoo is something that is achieved by choice, but a scar is usually something caused by an accident, negligence or abuse. A scar is an invisible area of darkness within our lives. The problem with scars are that they have immense power over us and can easily build up a wall that seems impossible to overcome...... if we allow it. As human beings we build walls for our own protection and safety, but it actually has different aspects to it. To build a wall is stating that there is a boundary in place and is usually impossible to climb, unless the fear of the size and thickness of the wall does not intimidate the climber. It also says that whatever is inside needs protecting. When i think of walls and boundaries i think of the fairy tales i have heard in my lifetime. The beautiful princess alone in a castle tower, looking, searching, hoping for her handsome hero to bravely come riding towards her on a white horse. A muscle wearing horse whose flowing white mane dances in the breeze as he thunders along the open plains.. A horse that maybe answers to the name of "Honour." Upon its back is a dashing hero with blonde wavy hair that matches his golden smile. His name is Prince Gallant. Together they defeat their enemies and bandits along their journey which strengthens their focus and endurance for gaining their prize. A wife for the Prince and another friend for the horse. As they reach the tower of lonely cries they face the huge obstacle of climbing the wall. An opportunity to turn back and seek an easier maiden no doubt. But this Handsome hero is focussed and ready for any task.
So a wall is built to separate people and it does exactly that. But not only does it keep people from getting in, it also stops the person on the inside from getting out. So take the the word "Trust" .....add 1 letter to it and it changes everything. Add an "o" and it says "to rust". Pronounced similar to the original, but with a completely different meaning. After a few storms, rain, even an extreme coldness, metal will not only change its outward appearance but slowly break into smaller pieces, losing its strength and can be a hazard to surrounding objects. Rust will not only effect non living things but plants too. Its a plant disease that produces a reddish-brown discoloration of leaves and stems, caused by various rust fungi robbing the plant of its natural beauty. So the deterioration, lack of strength and non ability to complete its task is all caused by weather and time, which could be described as the storms of life.
So as human beings we have been given lots of choices in our lives and one of them is to either trust or to rust.
One day a man was walking his dog along the cliff top. The wind was blowing the trees and after a few minutes he had already seen his tweed peaked cap fly over the edge and drop down into the crashing waves below. The wind was getting stronger, his dog was continually barking and our young explorer struggled to stand up straight as he leaned into the wind. The leash flew out of his hand and like his hat he now saw his dog run off into the distance. Bashed by the storm he lost his step and slipped on a loose rock which took him on the same journey as his favourite walking cap. Falling down towards the waves he managed to grab a branch poking out from the cliff face. Holding onto it with all his strength he started to wear fear like a scarf, wrapped around him and occasionally slapping his face. Eventually he cries out
"Help!" Only silence answers him.
He cries out again with a desperateness in his voice "Help!" no answer yet again,
"Heeeeeeeeeeellllllllp!" he screams, tears rolling down his face onto his aching arms.
"LET GO OF THE BRANCH, I WILL CATCH YOU" said a deep voice booming from the heavens.
"How can you catch me, i cant even see you. Is anyone else there, Help!"" he cries.
So because of our understanding of past events in our lives we allow the past to dictate our future. We surrender our strength and give it the power to make us understand and trust only in the things that we can see and know. But to trust, that is really birthed from the unknown, a new journey, a new experience, a chance to explore deeper into another human being and deeper within ourselves.
As children we are told not to touch the hot pans in the kitchen, that it is dangerous and we will get hurt. But sometimes our personality's like to rebel against warnings and instead of taking notice to the wisdom that is shared we go ahead and do the exact opposite. We touch the pan, we burn our fingers and we shout and cry because of the pain, sometimes we shout at the wisdom giver and accuse them of not warning us correctly. Instead of listening and learning the softer way, we learn the hard way....by getting hurt. But over time the one thing we would remember about the incident is the pain that we felt. Sometimes that burn is strong enough to make people avoid cooking. A few years ago i was working with an Autistic adult who gave me an amazing experience. This fully grown muscle man had a scar that ran from his shoulder to his elbow. A big scar that could only be made by boiling hot water. Maybe he was told not to touch the pans and he rebelled, i don't know. But i was filling the washing bowl up with hot water after our evening meal and this guy came out of his comfort zone and came up to me, gently pushed me out of the way and turned on the cold water. He was a man living behind a medical wall but he himself climbed that wall to protect another person. He trusted me enough to overcome his own barrier of getting close to people. It was an incredible moment for me and he taught me so much in those few seconds.
The bible says "It is better to trust God than to trust man" What does this mean? Does it mean we are all bad and doomed, no! It means that the author of the bible knows what human beings can be like. Our imperfections, our reactions, our behaviours are not a secret to Him. So not only does He know what we are like, but an awareness that all people are capable of being the same. That we as human beings hurt each other, sometimes without even knowing it.
I have had the most beautiful people i have ever met hurt me. They didnt mean to, it was something that just happened. But it was my reaction to their mistake that was important. At that point i had the power to end the friendships or to work through it, and today i am grateful that i did not turn and run, but to face the truth that they had said about me.
Some times a physical position is needed. In a war, soldiers are taught to be prepared and you can almost imagine the warriors all through time of maybe placing their right foot forward and their left foot to one side, crouched down and ready to attack. Maybe the foot to the left is a ready position to run if the attack seems to fierce. But what if the person attacking dosen't actually attack but approaches in a different way, a softer way, a more friendly way? It means the defender has to change their stance. A physical action needs to be taken to accommodate the new encounter. But a fighting stance is not really an attacking stance, its a defence action. As a human being, it is alot easier to take on the defensive attitude of "maybe i will get hurt through this, so i need to be ready" than it is to think that maybe the new encounter is going to be amazing. Its human nature. In Texas USA they have an unwritten law....."you come on my land i will shoot you." But what if the new visitor was bringing lottery winnings to your home address? What if its a long lost school friend? What if its the exact person they have been waiting for all their lives? The wrong stance could make or break their new journey.
So the key is not too allow our past to dictate our future, but to choose on how we want that first step to land, with a positive footprint or a negative footprint. But either way.....it is our choice.
None of us are cactus's, we all like to be touched.
© Travelling Boy content belongs to Philip D Norris
So a wall is built to separate people and it does exactly that. But not only does it keep people from getting in, it also stops the person on the inside from getting out. So take the the word "Trust" .....add 1 letter to it and it changes everything. Add an "o" and it says "to rust". Pronounced similar to the original, but with a completely different meaning. After a few storms, rain, even an extreme coldness, metal will not only change its outward appearance but slowly break into smaller pieces, losing its strength and can be a hazard to surrounding objects. Rust will not only effect non living things but plants too. Its a plant disease that produces a reddish-brown discoloration of leaves and stems, caused by various rust fungi robbing the plant of its natural beauty. So the deterioration, lack of strength and non ability to complete its task is all caused by weather and time, which could be described as the storms of life.
So as human beings we have been given lots of choices in our lives and one of them is to either trust or to rust.
One day a man was walking his dog along the cliff top. The wind was blowing the trees and after a few minutes he had already seen his tweed peaked cap fly over the edge and drop down into the crashing waves below. The wind was getting stronger, his dog was continually barking and our young explorer struggled to stand up straight as he leaned into the wind. The leash flew out of his hand and like his hat he now saw his dog run off into the distance. Bashed by the storm he lost his step and slipped on a loose rock which took him on the same journey as his favourite walking cap. Falling down towards the waves he managed to grab a branch poking out from the cliff face. Holding onto it with all his strength he started to wear fear like a scarf, wrapped around him and occasionally slapping his face. Eventually he cries out
"Help!" Only silence answers him.
He cries out again with a desperateness in his voice "Help!" no answer yet again,
"Heeeeeeeeeeellllllllp!" he screams, tears rolling down his face onto his aching arms.
"LET GO OF THE BRANCH, I WILL CATCH YOU" said a deep voice booming from the heavens.
"How can you catch me, i cant even see you. Is anyone else there, Help!"" he cries.
So because of our understanding of past events in our lives we allow the past to dictate our future. We surrender our strength and give it the power to make us understand and trust only in the things that we can see and know. But to trust, that is really birthed from the unknown, a new journey, a new experience, a chance to explore deeper into another human being and deeper within ourselves.
As children we are told not to touch the hot pans in the kitchen, that it is dangerous and we will get hurt. But sometimes our personality's like to rebel against warnings and instead of taking notice to the wisdom that is shared we go ahead and do the exact opposite. We touch the pan, we burn our fingers and we shout and cry because of the pain, sometimes we shout at the wisdom giver and accuse them of not warning us correctly. Instead of listening and learning the softer way, we learn the hard way....by getting hurt. But over time the one thing we would remember about the incident is the pain that we felt. Sometimes that burn is strong enough to make people avoid cooking. A few years ago i was working with an Autistic adult who gave me an amazing experience. This fully grown muscle man had a scar that ran from his shoulder to his elbow. A big scar that could only be made by boiling hot water. Maybe he was told not to touch the pans and he rebelled, i don't know. But i was filling the washing bowl up with hot water after our evening meal and this guy came out of his comfort zone and came up to me, gently pushed me out of the way and turned on the cold water. He was a man living behind a medical wall but he himself climbed that wall to protect another person. He trusted me enough to overcome his own barrier of getting close to people. It was an incredible moment for me and he taught me so much in those few seconds.
The bible says "It is better to trust God than to trust man" What does this mean? Does it mean we are all bad and doomed, no! It means that the author of the bible knows what human beings can be like. Our imperfections, our reactions, our behaviours are not a secret to Him. So not only does He know what we are like, but an awareness that all people are capable of being the same. That we as human beings hurt each other, sometimes without even knowing it.
I have had the most beautiful people i have ever met hurt me. They didnt mean to, it was something that just happened. But it was my reaction to their mistake that was important. At that point i had the power to end the friendships or to work through it, and today i am grateful that i did not turn and run, but to face the truth that they had said about me.
Some times a physical position is needed. In a war, soldiers are taught to be prepared and you can almost imagine the warriors all through time of maybe placing their right foot forward and their left foot to one side, crouched down and ready to attack. Maybe the foot to the left is a ready position to run if the attack seems to fierce. But what if the person attacking dosen't actually attack but approaches in a different way, a softer way, a more friendly way? It means the defender has to change their stance. A physical action needs to be taken to accommodate the new encounter. But a fighting stance is not really an attacking stance, its a defence action. As a human being, it is alot easier to take on the defensive attitude of "maybe i will get hurt through this, so i need to be ready" than it is to think that maybe the new encounter is going to be amazing. Its human nature. In Texas USA they have an unwritten law....."you come on my land i will shoot you." But what if the new visitor was bringing lottery winnings to your home address? What if its a long lost school friend? What if its the exact person they have been waiting for all their lives? The wrong stance could make or break their new journey.
So the key is not too allow our past to dictate our future, but to choose on how we want that first step to land, with a positive footprint or a negative footprint. But either way.....it is our choice.
None of us are cactus's, we all like to be touched.
© Travelling Boy content belongs to Philip D Norris
Saturday, 18 September 2010
The root
A root of a tree is a powerful thing. Its the source of all life for it. Nourishment and growth are transported through the twisted snakelike foundations. The future of the tree lies cradled within its root. From one root there could be glorious fruit, colour and even a scent that could be pleasing to the nose of both humans and living creatures. The strongest of Oak trees, the fragility of the Weeping Willow, both started with one root. The 300ft Red trees of California have grown to such great heights because of the power and direction of their roots. A dead tree however, bare, fruitless and brown with its bark falling away, dies first in the root and then it progresses into the branches and the leaves, losing all of its splendour of life. So it is with human beings. From the day our mothers give birth to us, our roots begin to grow. Our personal tree of life will grow one way or another and it will encounter certain things that could change its course, block or enhance its growth and determine the quality of fruit that we bare. The strange thing about an Olive tree is that as it grows, it will twist and turn in its own direction, it will be its own leader and it will create some very unusual patterns. But through all of this, they actually grow in a way that they were not made to, but eventually, over the years they become something beautiful and a masterpiece.
So like an Olive tree, i have made some wrong decision's in my life. I have travelled down roads that i thought were the right way for me, and time after time it was proven that i was wrong. But the problem with this is the realization of one very simple statement....."the hardest thing in the world to change is a belief system."
Through numerous crossroads and obstacles and years of abuse, caused by others emotionally, or by myself, emotionally physically and mentally, my opinion of myself became very low. The scars from these things although invisible to the untrained eye are very visible to me. If you sat on the beach and drew a line in the sand, waited until the sea washed over it and erased the groove that was made, in our eyes we could still the line. Even days later, when taking a walk along the beach and reaching that same point we would remember the feeling of cutting into the sand and we are capable of picturing that line again, even though it may not be there.
My wrong belief system started to bare its fruit. Negativity became the source of my life. It fed me, it blurred my vision of how i see things. How i see people, situations and how i see myself. If i had known better, i would have done better. But like those racehorse's lining up for the years biggest race, with leather blinkers over the side of each eye to avoid distraction, that is how i have been. Negativity became my blinkers and it was all i saw and knew. When people said something complimentary i didn't believe them. When people said something positive i didn't believe them. When people said something bad, i believed them. That was easy to believe because i was already plugged into the negative life source, so it became natural to me. To always think the worst in people, places and things.
A few years ago i was living in Texas USA. I had run from everything that i knew in the hope that my head would not follow me to the other side of the world. But instead, i remember very clearly that it greeted me when i touched down at Dallas airport. I had no escape, no way out and no where to hide from the root of my tree. I remember due to a bad relationship i was in, negative situation and a hopeless state of affairs, i had decided to go for a long walk. 4 hours had passed, many roads were taken but my mind was still the same - pumping negativity through my veins. I came upon a crossroads, one road went into the unknown and another went back to the place i had run from. I sat at that crossroads for over an hour, crying because i didn't know which way to go. I did not know that negativity is a brother to fear and lack of self worth and a cousin to a continual feeling of failure. Fear will stop a person being brave and going into the unknown. Lack of self worth will tell a person that they cant achieve anything and the feeling of failure....well that just says "game over." Eventually i had made my decision and as it was proven again it was the wrong decision. When i got back to the place i was living in i found the person i was with in bed with somebody else. If only i had been brave enough to keep going i could have saved myself from more invisible scars. But i didn't believe in myself and that stopped me from moving forward. The road we know is usually the easier one to take, but the road that smells of bravery is normally right behind the sign that says "do not enter, fear lives here." That crossroads in Texas was a very real sign to me. I was given the opportunity to change, to grow, to overcome, but i was a coward and i choose the way that i knew. I was not brave enough to walk into the dark without a torch and to feel my way through to the destination that was laid out before me. I choose to go the way where i could see. And so it has been like that all of my life. Negativity has been worn by me like an aftershave or cologne, something that is put on every morning. The problem with it is that it smells disgusting. It turns people away instead of drawing them closer. So then i am stuck alone with the stink of rotten fruit.
Until recently, this had been the source of my life, the energy within my body, the destination of my focus. But recently, through more crossroads and opportunity's, i have been able to see that there is another way. Its called positive thinking. A new concept to this battle scarred travelling boy. A new wave over the line of pain drawn in the sand. Money can buy alot of things but it can't buy this. All the money in the world can not buy freedom. Freedom from negativity can only be purchased by a decision. Before that decision there must be a pause button, so i can make that choice and not be blinkered again like those 4 legged money machines. To take a step back, to pause, to see and weigh up both routes, has become a necessity for me now. But that does not mean that i make the right choice every time, it means that i am worthy of making a choice and that my choice's are important. That i can no longer be controlled by something i don't see and by that i can see a bigger picture, not just the inside of two leather blinkers.
When it is my time to go from this world, i don't want to be the type of person who says to my grandchildren "don't try this and don't try that because there dangerous." but instead a person that says "Go out there, experience all that life has to offer you, you may fall, you may stumble, but you can always pick yourself up and try again. Your life is worth more than to stay laying down." Because the only thing we could leave as an inheritance of our lives that is worth anything, anything at all.......is our story.
I have recently come across a wonderful quote, which i read daily. Written by Henry Ford, the guy who invented the motor car. At some point in his life, proberly when he was being verbally abused for his ideas and told that his opinion on something was not good enough, he had this revelation and said....
"Whether you think you can or you can't, either way you are right."
© Travelling Boy content belongs to Philip D Norris
So like an Olive tree, i have made some wrong decision's in my life. I have travelled down roads that i thought were the right way for me, and time after time it was proven that i was wrong. But the problem with this is the realization of one very simple statement....."the hardest thing in the world to change is a belief system."
Through numerous crossroads and obstacles and years of abuse, caused by others emotionally, or by myself, emotionally physically and mentally, my opinion of myself became very low. The scars from these things although invisible to the untrained eye are very visible to me. If you sat on the beach and drew a line in the sand, waited until the sea washed over it and erased the groove that was made, in our eyes we could still the line. Even days later, when taking a walk along the beach and reaching that same point we would remember the feeling of cutting into the sand and we are capable of picturing that line again, even though it may not be there.
My wrong belief system started to bare its fruit. Negativity became the source of my life. It fed me, it blurred my vision of how i see things. How i see people, situations and how i see myself. If i had known better, i would have done better. But like those racehorse's lining up for the years biggest race, with leather blinkers over the side of each eye to avoid distraction, that is how i have been. Negativity became my blinkers and it was all i saw and knew. When people said something complimentary i didn't believe them. When people said something positive i didn't believe them. When people said something bad, i believed them. That was easy to believe because i was already plugged into the negative life source, so it became natural to me. To always think the worst in people, places and things.
A few years ago i was living in Texas USA. I had run from everything that i knew in the hope that my head would not follow me to the other side of the world. But instead, i remember very clearly that it greeted me when i touched down at Dallas airport. I had no escape, no way out and no where to hide from the root of my tree. I remember due to a bad relationship i was in, negative situation and a hopeless state of affairs, i had decided to go for a long walk. 4 hours had passed, many roads were taken but my mind was still the same - pumping negativity through my veins. I came upon a crossroads, one road went into the unknown and another went back to the place i had run from. I sat at that crossroads for over an hour, crying because i didn't know which way to go. I did not know that negativity is a brother to fear and lack of self worth and a cousin to a continual feeling of failure. Fear will stop a person being brave and going into the unknown. Lack of self worth will tell a person that they cant achieve anything and the feeling of failure....well that just says "game over." Eventually i had made my decision and as it was proven again it was the wrong decision. When i got back to the place i was living in i found the person i was with in bed with somebody else. If only i had been brave enough to keep going i could have saved myself from more invisible scars. But i didn't believe in myself and that stopped me from moving forward. The road we know is usually the easier one to take, but the road that smells of bravery is normally right behind the sign that says "do not enter, fear lives here." That crossroads in Texas was a very real sign to me. I was given the opportunity to change, to grow, to overcome, but i was a coward and i choose the way that i knew. I was not brave enough to walk into the dark without a torch and to feel my way through to the destination that was laid out before me. I choose to go the way where i could see. And so it has been like that all of my life. Negativity has been worn by me like an aftershave or cologne, something that is put on every morning. The problem with it is that it smells disgusting. It turns people away instead of drawing them closer. So then i am stuck alone with the stink of rotten fruit.
Until recently, this had been the source of my life, the energy within my body, the destination of my focus. But recently, through more crossroads and opportunity's, i have been able to see that there is another way. Its called positive thinking. A new concept to this battle scarred travelling boy. A new wave over the line of pain drawn in the sand. Money can buy alot of things but it can't buy this. All the money in the world can not buy freedom. Freedom from negativity can only be purchased by a decision. Before that decision there must be a pause button, so i can make that choice and not be blinkered again like those 4 legged money machines. To take a step back, to pause, to see and weigh up both routes, has become a necessity for me now. But that does not mean that i make the right choice every time, it means that i am worthy of making a choice and that my choice's are important. That i can no longer be controlled by something i don't see and by that i can see a bigger picture, not just the inside of two leather blinkers.
When it is my time to go from this world, i don't want to be the type of person who says to my grandchildren "don't try this and don't try that because there dangerous." but instead a person that says "Go out there, experience all that life has to offer you, you may fall, you may stumble, but you can always pick yourself up and try again. Your life is worth more than to stay laying down." Because the only thing we could leave as an inheritance of our lives that is worth anything, anything at all.......is our story.
I have recently come across a wonderful quote, which i read daily. Written by Henry Ford, the guy who invented the motor car. At some point in his life, proberly when he was being verbally abused for his ideas and told that his opinion on something was not good enough, he had this revelation and said....
"Whether you think you can or you can't, either way you are right."
© Travelling Boy content belongs to Philip D Norris
Saturday, 28 August 2010
Hairy arms
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
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
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
Monday, 5 July 2010
Red sand
"There is a rumour going around my town, a rumour that tastes like fear. Everyone is saying the centurian's are coming and they have travelled a long way, tired and frustrated punishing anyone who stands in their path. I have seen smoke from villages across the hills, i have been haunted by the screams that echo through the valleys, but yet i am thankful to see a new sunrise after i sleep. They say that this mighty army of roman soldiers are taking children for their own pleasure, burning the homes filled with screaming mothers and taking the weeping men to a place they call Caesarea, but to our little farming community, it is known as hell on earth. King Herod is an evil leader and likes to watch people suffer, he likes to make his army look powerful and they carry iron balls with spikes on them that can kill even the strongest farmer, swords that can cut a horse in two and spears that come flying through the air like eagles diving for fish. We do not know why he persecutes us, we are not a threat to him, we are just farmers trying to make the land provide for our families. So far, the soldiers have not come to my town, but now.....now i have fear that they will. They could come at any time and the only thought of peace i have is when i think of my beautiful wife and our 3 daughters. I could cry when they all come running out to meet me, its a refreshing time after a hard days work in the hot Israeli sun. 
My skin is dark and my hands are like leather. My back is arched from working the plough for the past 30 years, but the thought of feeding my children is my driving force when the soil is hard and the sun drains me of my energy.
My children are clearly a gift to me, my wife is my best friend and makes me laugh even when i'm tired. My daughters all carry such a beautiful innocence with them and i adore to see them play by the stream catching fish. They are so funny when they loose their balance and fall in. It's like 3 tiny drowned rats coming home for supper."
"we fell in again Dad"
"so i see, but you will soon be dry and you do make me smile"
But i am afraid. I have heard the rumours and seen the remains of the burned villages. I do not know how i can protect my family when the soldiers come. I am a strong man and can fight a few men but to fight an army? i don't know how to do that.
"That was a beautiful dinner dear, thankyou. You work as hard preparing our food as i do walking behind those 2 faithful horses of ours."
"Thankyou for making my life worthwhile all of you, but your father is tired now and needs to sleep so i'm fit for tomorrow."
"Who is that waking me up in the middle of this hot summer night?"
"Please dont touch my girls, please, i beg you...spare my girls."
"SILENCE FARMER BOY, WE WILL DO WHAT WE WANT AND YOU WILL WATCH TOO."
"Over my dead body, don't you touch my family, i'm begging you!"
"I SAID BE QUIET!".........
"My tears are no comfort to me now, my heart has stopped beating, i have lost everything i love, my family has gone, my daughters are not pure anymore, my wife is hidden amongst the ashes of my family home, i am a broken man. the pain is too strong for me to even understand, i have had everything taken from me,
"why? why did they do this to me? what did i do to them, i was no threat to them, all i ever wanted was to be a good husband and father and now.....now i have nothing"
"kill me please, you can have my life, every body i loved you have taken from me , please.....kill me"
"NO! DO NOT THINK YOU ARE ESCAPING THAT EASILY JEW! YOU HAVE AN APPOINTMENT WITH KING HEROD, HE WANTS TO SEE YOU AT HIS PALACE IN CAESAREA"
"The journey is hard, every step i take i am shaking with pain, my wife, my beautiful daughters and now these men want me to obey them and walk in a line without shouting at them. My heart is broken, the sun has even dried my tears but i am filled with so much anger, i want to kill them, i want to kill them all. Just to drive a sword into one of them would ease the pain, but who am i....i am just one and they are many. But it would be worth it just to kill one of them. My sandels broke two day ago and i have had to continue walking on the bare stones, it hurts my feet, they are cut and bruised. When i left my town they left a trail of blood, but now there is nothing , just pain. The pain is too much for me to carry, i just want to die"
"WHAT DOES THAT SIGNPOST SAY FARMER BOY?"
"Caesarea, do they not teach you to read in the army centurian?"
"What was that for? Why did you punch me? You kill my wife, rape my daughters and you expect me to be quiet and be polite to you....you roman murderer"
The silence became so haunting, i want to die right now, but the look he keeps giving me makes me want to live again , to live for my family and my people"
"YOUR DAUGHTERS WERE SCREAMING FOR YOU WHEN I TOOK THEM, STAY IN LINE, KEEP WALKING AND BE QUIET"
The days past, we made camp at night but when sunrise came we were walking again. Chained together and not allowed to speak, and we were not even in torture town yet.
Eventually we arrived near the sea and the smell of death met us in every corner. We were forced to stand in a small room with our hands tied above our heads. The heat was so intense and after our 20 day walk i just wanted to sleep, but we were not allowed. Every time i close my eyes i get whipped, the guard spits in my face and shouts at me to keep me awake. Their breath smells like dead pigs and their body has a smell of blood which makes me want to vomit. My arms are tired, my shoulders ache, my feet are sore and i am convered in roman spit.
"Just kill me please!"
In this small arched room are the local farmers from my nearby towns.These are strong men, respected men, honest men, but we are being treated likes dogs for no reason. Maybe they like the power, maybe they like the control, but i know they do not like us.
The cheers of the crowd rising up from from the stone seats is drowning out the sound of the waves. The sparkling blue sea crashing against the rocks is like clashes of thunder The smell of rotten flesh is in my lungs and i can taste it. The thunder of the horses on the sand with the rattling of the chariot wheels makes my ears hurt, The way they are treating me makes me want to die but only after i have killed at least one of them.
"What did i ever do to them? Why do they punish us?"
The people are laughing and cheering as one by one the broken farmers are led out into the sun soaked arena. The king sits surrounded by people in rich clothing. His servants look alot like like me, they have dark skin too but yet they are obedient to him. "Would i choose that rather than death?" I am chained up in a corner and i see men bent over walking towards the red coloured sand, tired and barely standing up. Then a cheer comes from the crowd as a giant in armour cuts their throats. These poor people don't stand a chance, we are all tired, angry and all want to die but not like this.
"I wish i was back on my farm with my family"
The roar of the leopards and lions are sending lightning bolts of fear down my back. Held back by silver coloured chains the whipped blood thirsty cats stare and snarl at anyone within their eyesight. The audience in their white gowns cheer as anticipation rises. The snakes in the sand are undisturbed by the pure white horses thundering up and down the sand as the wheels of the chariots spin and show flashes of the blue sea between the spokes,the giants are riding with silver armour and flashes of red across them. In their helmets are red feathers flowing in the breeze."
They all have sandels on. "Do they know what it is like to walk barefoot on this bloodstained hot sand? it hurts, it burns, but we still have to do it, why?".jpg)
Two more people then i am at the front of the line, i am afraid. I can not see what is out there but i know its full of more pain. One more man next to me now and my heart is beating faster but i am so tired, my body hurts, my heart hurts and as the next victim walks forward i catch a glimpse of the beautiful blue sea. I stretch my neck to see the enchanting colours of the inviting calmness and ask myself why does it look so beautiful.
My time has come to be pushed into the blood soaked arena. I feel so afraid and alone, why are they doing this to me?
© Travelling Boy content belongs to Philip D Norris
My skin is dark and my hands are like leather. My back is arched from working the plough for the past 30 years, but the thought of feeding my children is my driving force when the soil is hard and the sun drains me of my energy.My children are clearly a gift to me, my wife is my best friend and makes me laugh even when i'm tired. My daughters all carry such a beautiful innocence with them and i adore to see them play by the stream catching fish. They are so funny when they loose their balance and fall in. It's like 3 tiny drowned rats coming home for supper."
"we fell in again Dad"
"so i see, but you will soon be dry and you do make me smile"
But i am afraid. I have heard the rumours and seen the remains of the burned villages. I do not know how i can protect my family when the soldiers come. I am a strong man and can fight a few men but to fight an army? i don't know how to do that.
"That was a beautiful dinner dear, thankyou. You work as hard preparing our food as i do walking behind those 2 faithful horses of ours."
"Thankyou for making my life worthwhile all of you, but your father is tired now and needs to sleep so i'm fit for tomorrow."
"Who is that waking me up in the middle of this hot summer night?"
"Please dont touch my girls, please, i beg you...spare my girls."
"SILENCE FARMER BOY, WE WILL DO WHAT WE WANT AND YOU WILL WATCH TOO."
"Over my dead body, don't you touch my family, i'm begging you!"
"I SAID BE QUIET!".........
"My tears are no comfort to me now, my heart has stopped beating, i have lost everything i love, my family has gone, my daughters are not pure anymore, my wife is hidden amongst the ashes of my family home, i am a broken man. the pain is too strong for me to even understand, i have had everything taken from me,
"why? why did they do this to me? what did i do to them, i was no threat to them, all i ever wanted was to be a good husband and father and now.....now i have nothing"
"kill me please, you can have my life, every body i loved you have taken from me , please.....kill me"
"NO! DO NOT THINK YOU ARE ESCAPING THAT EASILY JEW! YOU HAVE AN APPOINTMENT WITH KING HEROD, HE WANTS TO SEE YOU AT HIS PALACE IN CAESAREA"
"The journey is hard, every step i take i am shaking with pain, my wife, my beautiful daughters and now these men want me to obey them and walk in a line without shouting at them. My heart is broken, the sun has even dried my tears but i am filled with so much anger, i want to kill them, i want to kill them all. Just to drive a sword into one of them would ease the pain, but who am i....i am just one and they are many. But it would be worth it just to kill one of them. My sandels broke two day ago and i have had to continue walking on the bare stones, it hurts my feet, they are cut and bruised. When i left my town they left a trail of blood, but now there is nothing , just pain. The pain is too much for me to carry, i just want to die"
"WHAT DOES THAT SIGNPOST SAY FARMER BOY?"
"Caesarea, do they not teach you to read in the army centurian?"
"What was that for? Why did you punch me? You kill my wife, rape my daughters and you expect me to be quiet and be polite to you....you roman murderer"
The silence became so haunting, i want to die right now, but the look he keeps giving me makes me want to live again , to live for my family and my people"
"YOUR DAUGHTERS WERE SCREAMING FOR YOU WHEN I TOOK THEM, STAY IN LINE, KEEP WALKING AND BE QUIET"
The days past, we made camp at night but when sunrise came we were walking again. Chained together and not allowed to speak, and we were not even in torture town yet.
Eventually we arrived near the sea and the smell of death met us in every corner. We were forced to stand in a small room with our hands tied above our heads. The heat was so intense and after our 20 day walk i just wanted to sleep, but we were not allowed. Every time i close my eyes i get whipped, the guard spits in my face and shouts at me to keep me awake. Their breath smells like dead pigs and their body has a smell of blood which makes me want to vomit. My arms are tired, my shoulders ache, my feet are sore and i am convered in roman spit.
"Just kill me please!"
In this small arched room are the local farmers from my nearby towns.These are strong men, respected men, honest men, but we are being treated likes dogs for no reason. Maybe they like the power, maybe they like the control, but i know they do not like us.
The cheers of the crowd rising up from from the stone seats is drowning out the sound of the waves. The sparkling blue sea crashing against the rocks is like clashes of thunder The smell of rotten flesh is in my lungs and i can taste it. The thunder of the horses on the sand with the rattling of the chariot wheels makes my ears hurt, The way they are treating me makes me want to die but only after i have killed at least one of them.
"What did i ever do to them? Why do they punish us?"
The people are laughing and cheering as one by one the broken farmers are led out into the sun soaked arena. The king sits surrounded by people in rich clothing. His servants look alot like like me, they have dark skin too but yet they are obedient to him. "Would i choose that rather than death?" I am chained up in a corner and i see men bent over walking towards the red coloured sand, tired and barely standing up. Then a cheer comes from the crowd as a giant in armour cuts their throats. These poor people don't stand a chance, we are all tired, angry and all want to die but not like this.
"I wish i was back on my farm with my family"
The roar of the leopards and lions are sending lightning bolts of fear down my back. Held back by silver coloured chains the whipped blood thirsty cats stare and snarl at anyone within their eyesight. The audience in their white gowns cheer as anticipation rises. The snakes in the sand are undisturbed by the pure white horses thundering up and down the sand as the wheels of the chariots spin and show flashes of the blue sea between the spokes,the giants are riding with silver armour and flashes of red across them. In their helmets are red feathers flowing in the breeze."
They all have sandels on. "Do they know what it is like to walk barefoot on this bloodstained hot sand? it hurts, it burns, but we still have to do it, why?"
.jpg)
Two more people then i am at the front of the line, i am afraid. I can not see what is out there but i know its full of more pain. One more man next to me now and my heart is beating faster but i am so tired, my body hurts, my heart hurts and as the next victim walks forward i catch a glimpse of the beautiful blue sea. I stretch my neck to see the enchanting colours of the inviting calmness and ask myself why does it look so beautiful.
My time has come to be pushed into the blood soaked arena. I feel so afraid and alone, why are they doing this to me?
© Travelling Boy content belongs to Philip D Norris
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