Treat Others As...

I will always treat others the way I want to be treated.

I live my life in the following way. 

This is so that everyone can benefit the most from my actions.

For my own physical and mental health it's important to put me first. However, this doesn't mean at the expense of someone else.

To give an example: We have a cat and I dearly love her and enjoy her company. For me, however, the most important thing is her life. How is she? Is she really happy? What can I do to help her get the most from life?

I know that cat's are very independent animals and they love to play outside. Currently our cat is very small and most of the time we keep her inside away from dangers. I think this isn't so fun for her, especially when we leave her inside all day by herself. Think of a lion in a cage at the zoo. They often go crazy or get very depressed about life.

So every now-and-then I go outside with her and let her run around. As she's getting older and I want her to learn about the outside world so she can stay out there by herself. Thus I am now starting to let her be out for much longer times and by herself.

There is a chance I might not find her again if she wanders off somewhere else. But by letting her go outside like this I'm saying that her enjoyment of her life is more important than my enjoyment of her.

There is also a chance something bad might happen to her, but this is karma and up to a higher being - not up to me - I don't own her - she's not mine. I guess that this is exactly the same approach as dealing with a child. Parents protect and educate them, but eventually they have to let them go and discover life's adventures by themselves.

Unfortunately, I see some people work the other way. They are more interested in using animals and people for their own benefit.

Rather than thinking about what's best for the other person, or considering their needs, they think only of themselves. They usually want to control the other persons actions and are regularly telling others what to do.

It's very common for these kinds of people to be bad listeners. This is because they aren't interested in what others want or feel. They're mainly thinking only of themselves.

This is very sad, because ultimately they are not only controlling other people, but they are also limiting their own lives. They become dependant on this control.

I believe it's fairly obvious that this kind of attitude is against the Bible, Koran, Buddhist thinking etc.


Essentially we're talking about givers and takers.

~//~

One of those nights

It was “One of these those nights”

You know the kind… when you stay up later than you should, drink more caffeine than you should, and then try to get to sleep at 1am.

Come 3am you’re still wide awake and your brain is running at 110kph.

I don’t know what you do in these difficult situations, but I usually face the reality that it ‘ain’t gonna happen and get up to do something semi-productive rather than continue monotonously staring at my eyelids.

After completing my daily dose of online Turkish lessons, I decided that, although I was dead-dog-tired, I still wasn’t going to get any shut-eye any time soon.

In the wee hours of the morning, knowing that I’ll be up for at least another 4 or so hours, I often dive into my TV series folder and dig something out.

Having just recently updated said folder, I was delighted to recommence watching a superb series called Mr. Robot.

A considerable time ago I watched the first episode as it happened. That is to say that I usually watch TV series omnibus style (think Eastenders or Corry), meaning 2 or three at a time. But in this case, as it had just started ‘in real life’ as it were, I couldn’t do my usual trick.

Three brilliant viewings later it was approaching 8am and I wearily headed to bed again.

Usually this does the trick and I’m sound asleep until around 2pm. Last night however, was One of those Nights when nothing was going to work.

Thus I got up for the second time at 11am realizing that I was still exhausted, and no matter how long I doggedly kept myself horizontal in the tropical heat of our bedroom, sleep was going to continue to elude me.

One of These Nights - The Eagles

Loopy Loo

One of my best friends feels there’s some truth in the belief that our lives are driven by fear and embarrassment. There’s definitely some merit to this in my eyes too…

☪

It’s fair to say, I believe, that in the arena of waiting in the public toilets for a cubicle to become free, men differ greatly from women, although less so in Turkey than my country of birth New Zealand. For womenfolk it seems this is a sometimes frustrating, yet necessary, part of life. For the other species of humankind however, it falls under the category of “I’d rather not, thanks.”

Somehow it’s not ‘cool’ for the fellas to be seen loitering in the bathroom. There’s the off chance that someone might mistake you for being there for some reason other than nature’s calling.

And so there I was in my office, which just happens to be a café in a shopping mall, needing to relieve myself of excess energy supplies. To which end I abandoned my computer, bag and notes to make the fifty metre journey to the local facilities, knowing full well that ‘my’ staff, who just happen to be the waiters and waitresses of said café, would look after my belongings for me.

Once I made the mistake of actually asking them if they would kindly look after my things, to which they simply responded, “We’re here aren’t we?”. Thereby seeming to imply that whether they wanted to or not, they couldn’t help but do it.

Getting back to the main theme: I arrived at the WC to find the 4 ‘büyükler için’ (for big people) lavatories were occupied. Pressing the door to the ‘küçükler için’ one (smaller folk), even though the red sign indicated that it was in use, I happily found it to be empty.

Not fancying being ‘that guy’ that’s waiting for a free cubicle, I sauntered in and proceeded about my business. To get an idea of it’s ridiculously petite size you’ll need to appreciate that the height of the wee potty was decidedly below one’s knee. Thus even getting down there, for someone of my seniority (should I have said maturity?), required avid use of the walls for support.

Having plonked my delicate posterior on the potty I discovered to my dismay that it was worse that it looked at first glance. My little appendage belonging solely to the males of the species was sadly hanging over the edge due to the fact that not only was the height an issue, but indeed, so was the circumference.

Feeling that my need was greater than my will (to relocate) I convinced myself that a #1 wasn’t required and in this instance a #2 would suffice.

Taking enjoyment in the … (sometimes too much is too much).

As some other chaps of a gentile persuasion can attend, we aren’t always in full control of all that matters…

Suddenly the unbelievable happened.

Almost with an evil desire, the ‘little brain’ decided that in actual fact a #1 was on the cards (and why hadn’t you realised that in the first place?).

As quickly as humanly possible, following the supposedly minor accident, the valve was shut off. Quite convinced that it really was a mere sprinkling I was unpleasantly shocked to observe a ‘dark patch’ the size of my hand.

Of course the immediate – albeit internal - cry was “Damage control!”

Unfortunately no amount of patting with paper towels made any noticeable difference, and so I had to face the music and beat a weary path back to the ‘office’.

In an emergency being embarrassed in the presence of complete strangers can be managed knowing that in all likelihood you’ll never see them again.

On the other hand, when it comes to the ‘office staff’, the unimaginable loss of street-cred that might come with the revelation that one isn’t in full control of one’s organs…well!

Hence, prior to walking out into the mall with great trepidation, I attempted to do the best I could to visibly hide the ‘unmentionable’.

Pulling my shorts up as high as possible (imagine a reduction in the ability to breath) together with stretching my t-shirt as slow as possible, whilst not really achieving a lot, managed to minimise some of potentially irreparable embarrassment.

My brain had provided the following rescue scenario: cover up as much as possible, head out whilst avoiding eye contact, and sit in a chair for as long as possible in the hope that humid air would turn the dark patch into a lighter shade that hopefully would better resemble its original colour (ignoring the fact that the café was air conditioned).

Two hours later, without actually checking (although desperately wanting to), I paid, left, and using the only thing available, covered the whole she-bang with my red over-the-shoulder bag.

Needless to say the walk home wasn’t the most enjoyable I ever encountered.

Later, I pondered what others might have done: bought new clothes, called the wife, slept in the bathroom…?

☪

If you can’t laugh at yourself, what’s the point?

The Morning

Just having woken and risen, he was on his way to the bathroom when his father appeared. This in itself was odd, but what was even more bizarre was that they were at his beloved grandmother’s house.

Thus he had envisioned having a makeshift shower in the huge white cast iron bath with magnificent lions feet at each corner. Grandma, more accustomed to washing in a bath, had erected a long rubber hose with a shower nozzle at one end especially for him. The other end had cups that attached to the bath taps, much like how plungers fit to a cow’s teats when the farmer collects the daily milk.

The only problem was that as the pressure on the taps increased the plungers often decided they would part from the taps and burst either extremely hot or freezing cold water on your feet. Having a shower at Grandma’s was a risky business.

Without saying anything it was clear that he should follow his father. He lead him to the spare room, the one that was in between his and his grandmother’s. No one ever used this room, since his mother and uncle had grown up. It used to be his uncle’s room. The smallest of all three.

He recalled stories his mother used to tell him of how she and her brother used to play chess through the wall when they should have been sleeping at night. Each had their own complete chess board and they whispered the moves to each other through the wall. Fights invariably broke out as “Bishop to E5 takes queen” resulted in “But my queen isn’t there!”

As they entered the bedroom he noticed the man waiting inside. He had a mixture of grey and white hair with a beard of the same makeup. What was striking, however, was his size. Although not particularly tall, he seemed so. His body was also of a size and yet he wasn’t overweight. It was one of those situations where you could say, “He had a presence.”

Upon entering his father turned and disappeared leaving him alone with the old stranger who took his hand into his big warm palm. There was something familiar about him that wasn’t as yet identifiable.

“You didn’t answer me,” he opened with. His voice was deep and soft. It was a warm expression rather than an accusation.

“I asked you about your future.”

It was only then that the young boy remembered meeting a man on the street. Being weary of strangers he hadn’t answered the question and had hurried on with his business. Now, in the company of said man, it seemed as though he’d erred. He felt he could have at least courteously replied, instead of simple walking away. A guilty feeling crept over him.

Before having a chance to say anything his father returned and lay down on the bed next to them. At that precise moment a small knowing smile crept across both their faces. In that instant the young boy knew who the older man was. The giveaway was how the left side of their mouths curled in exactly the same way when they smiled presenting a small friendly grin.

His grandfather hugged his father who had started to cry. They young boy felt strange and at peace. Strange because his father never cried. At peace because of the love emanating from his grandfather.

It was then that I awoke. Feeling shaken and disturbed I wondered - Who was this man? If he was my father’s father then who was my grandfather? I was left with a burning desire to find out more.