It's definitely not spring time, it's freezing. And yet I'm thinking of follies, feel like playing pranks.
But then again, I never needed spring for that. Autumn is my favoured season.
I'm not going to disclose all my premises that lead to this post. The fact that they were the 'driving' force behind it, is credit enough. You don't understand me? That can't be helped, there's a pleasure sure in being mad, which none but madmen know... [John Dryden,The Spanish Friar; 1681]
I have tried and concluded that a datingsite is not the place where I make friends. It's like going to the beach. I do like the sea, but there's just too many people around. Too much exultation.
Friendship is energy, flowing between two persons. I make friends at small but headstrong brooks. I'm attrackted to their rippling laughter, their clashing and whirling. Am even prepared to break the ice that might still reside over them at the end of another winter.
Yet some of my friendships grew slowly, like a leak in a dyke, water seeping through sluice-gates.
Like it happened between Winston and me. I didn't even want to be his friend.
I was afraid of him. He could stare at me without conveying his annoyance. With me. So I did what I once heard was a great help against fear: just greet the person you're afraid of, calling him by his name. So every time I passed by, I said “Hello Winston” and greeted his friend as well. Hiding my fear.
Since Winston lived near the town center, where I do my shopping, I had to pass his house quite often.
And every time when he was is in his yard I repeated “Hello Winston.” That went on for a long time. Winston never said a word.
After two years, Winston's friend walked over to the gate. The friend had a much friendlier air about him, so I halted. The moment I stretched out my hand to him … his dinky little tail almost flew off from wagging it so enthousiasticly. How he loved being petted. In spite of all the mock chases he and his big black friend had been performing. Now Winston was really angry. With his most Rotweiler like stance, he stood over the old English Bulldog and sunk his teeth in him. I withdrew, casting worried glances over my shoulder to the smallest one, whom I had been calling 'Churchill' for two years now.
The next day a fit and healthy Churchill came running to the gate again, followed closely by Winston.
No sooner then that Churchill poked his snout through the gate, Winston stood over him, glaring at me.
If I wanted to pet the smaller dog, -which I did- I had to pet his leader first. My stomach tightened. In just a few seconds it would be determined. Whether I would go through life as the handless maiden or not. I raised my hand over the black head, Winston turned up his nose to sniff my palm, bringing his mouth closer into the bargain. Then it happened. He was wagging his tail too.
The problem with Winston is that he's possessive and jealous. I can still pet him, but I only do it when alone. With his front paws on the gate, he growls and bites at anyone who is with me or even close to me. He's not my 'easiest' friend.
So what, friendship comes in all shapes and sizes.
Forgive me , Giovanni Francesco di Bernardone, for adapting your prayer a little, but I think it's a befitting way to finish this seemingly non-sequiturial post.
- Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
- Where there is hatred, let me sow love.
- Where there is injury, pardon.
- Where there is doubt, faith.
- Where there is despair, hope.
- Where there is darkness, light.
- Where there is sadness, joy.
- O Divine Master,
- grant that I rather seek
- to console as to be consoled;
- to understand, as to be understood;
- to cherish, as to be cherished.
- For it is in giving that we receive.
- It is in pardoning that we are pardoned.
- It is through our fellow creatures
- that we can honour and receive Your Love