Two Dutch Girls on a Road Trip to Wiltshire

Road Trip 2017 (2) - Richmond to Chawton to Salisbury.

Good afternoon! Would you like to join me for the second part of my road trip in the South-West of England? A long time wish of my daughter...

Showing posts with label sadness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sadness. Show all posts

Monday, 26 May 2014

Sadness - such a secret emotion.

I am sad.
Hello, good evening to you all. I saw Ecuador has joined us. Bienvenudo!
Tonight I am going to bore you to tears. Or move you ... You take your pick!



I am sad.

Last Friday night (but I heard last night) a man passed away whom I looked up to, respected, liked immensely and was always happy to meet. He was the best friend of my step-father, so you could say I grew up with him around, from the time I was 9 years old.
He was charming. A clever businessman. Funny. Good-looking. Sometimes tormented, but he never talked about that with me.
And he was nearing 90, I  believe. So you could argue that he had a long life. 
Yes, he did.

And he lived most of this life very comfortably off. So I am trying my damnest to be philosophical about his passing away. Except it doesn't really work...Yet another one gone.
(How many people will I have to lose...the inner child in me wails)

The weather didn't help me at all today. It was grey, damp.

And being at school, teaching all those youngsters, doesn't allow for sadness. Sadness doesn't play a part in their school days. At least, not my sadness. (Many of them have plenty of sadness of their own)

So....what do you do...
I've decided I'll do what I always do in a secret sad mood: I look to music.








Saturday, 1 February 2014

A little compassion goes a long way...Why people need to recover tenderness.

A little song, sang by Simon Oak

Good morning to you, on this first day of February.
I am in a sad mood, and I'll tell you why.
I opened my FB, to browse the comments of my FB friends along with my first cup of coffee of the day, and what do I see?

- A photo of a badly beaten young man in Stuttgart - his face thrashed, no other word for it, and the appeal by his dad to find who has done this (and ran away).
- A photo of the leg of a horse, completely ripped to shreds, and the appeal of its owner to find the car driver who did this (and didn't stop).
- A photo of two dogs being boiled alive in a tub of boiling water, and the appeal for people to stop these practices (which are allowed in some parts of the world)
- A song (the link is above this post) about a young girl who was abused and died, along with her baby.
- A beautiful little story about a young man who was stopped from killing himself on Waterloo Bridge (London) by a complete stranger (and who, 6 years later, appealed to the public to find his rescuer, and did)

I stopped browsing there and then, and - with my second cup of coffee - thought about a little song I used to play over and over again when I was 17 and living by myself in Amsterdam, totally and utterly alone. It was the kindness of strangers which helped me cope, then. And it is the kindness of strangers which is, in my opinion, the only rescue remedy for this world we live in.

The song goes like this (lyrics by Herman van Veen and translated from Dutch, so cut me some slack):

Ik heb dat tedere gevoel 
voor elke vrouw, voor elke man 
die in volkomen weerloosheid

 een ander mens beminnen kan.

I have that feeling of tenderness
for every woman, for every man
who is with utter defenselessness
able to love another human being

Dat tedere gevoel - Herman van Veen (guitar Harry Sacksioni)

The last example above, a story I got from the BBC, is an example of hope. Sure, there are people in this world who, with no thought for themselves, stop to help another person.

And sure, set off against all the violence in Central Africa, in Syria, in the Ukraine, what is one guy in Stuttgart, or one horse, or a dog?

But I am deeply convinced that ordinary people, you and me, can make a difference in this world we occupy. By showing that tenderness towards all people, and animals, that need our compassion.

So. I'll forgive that blockhead in school who called me a cunt the day before yesterday, and when I see him on Monday, I'll give him another chance. If I can find it in my heart, so can you, I'm certain.

And now you may call me an old silly Hippy, I don't care. The ideals from the sixties and seventies weren't that bad!