Posted by Raul on June 6, 2011
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In any relationship that might be: marriage, parenthood, friendship, etc. the use of bad words or insults in reference to the person we are talking to as a way of joking is something I really dislike. I do understand and accept their use as part of the joke, and we know there are times when a thousand words cannot explain what one single bad word does.
But when those words are used to directly refer to the other person, it is my opinion that slowly but surely it helps deteriorate the relationship.
Say for instance, you make a silly joke to a loved one and the response to you, as a joke, is: “Jerk!”
It might be just a joke, just a word, nothing that has a real meaning or that comes from the heart of the person saying such word, yet (unconsciously) it does become already traveled road that opens the door for another road, and then another, then another, to the point that, without even knowing, the use of insults becomes the norm, putting the relationship interactions too close to the side of disrespect.
Everything we do repeatedly will become a custom and will loose its original intensity.
Having sex before marriage as another process of getting to know each other before deciding if marriage is for them, that I agree; while having sex as a normal element of any party, and just for the temporary pleasure it gives; that I disagree.
Discovering new technologies by their use as a way to learn, adapt to the new times while improving our efficiency, I agree; but getting the latest just to be with the crowd and don’t look like left behind, that I disagree.
In everything we do, if we do it very often, we will loose the magic involved in the process, and it’ll become just the base for something else to acquire in order to recover the lost magic of the first times.
For the same reason, if it becomes the norm to use insults to joke with a loved one, then pretty soon it’ll be necessary to use stronger words to retain the “fun” of it, to the point that someone external to the circle will become shocked by the way they joke with each other.
What has become a natural thing for some could be an extreme for the rest.
Joking with bad words brings resentment in the long run, and also creates a situation of disrespect, even if there was no intention of such thing from the part of those using the bad words.
That’s why I disagree with the use of insults as jokes when referring to a loved one. To keep a positive relationship in the long run, sometimes we have to “invest” in not going too far, as a way to always remain within the range of respect and love each other deserves.
My personal opinion of course.
What is your take on that? Do you accept the use of bad words as jokes with your loved ones?
Raul
Posted by Raul on March 31, 2011
They used to be all around, flying aimlessly, close to each other, silently existing for no reason at all. They were there, creating that strange feeling that seems to be proper of just once in a lifetime.
Sounds of a voice, a gesture, maybe a silly look of stranger eyes that were to be known little by little as time went by; they were born out of those and remained there for a short lived life.
So colorful! So vibrant! So alive! Butterflies that changed the elements around, the organization of things, the perception of life; just to leave behind spider webs as a memorial reminder of what used to be, and that now concentrate in catching the dust of time.
Their brief life reminding us all of the fragility of a moment in time: Dead Butterflies!
Raul
(Projections)
Posted by Raul on January 24, 2011
If you decide to diagnose your vehicle why it doesn’t start, check first the Crankshaft Position Sensor instead of the Ignition Pack and harness…it’ll save you a lot of time!
Last week I’ve been spending a lot of time with a vehicle that simply refuses to show what the problem is and why it doesn’t want to run. I’ve checked the ignition; timing; wiring; fuel delivery system; vacuum controls for leaks; etc, and it shows everything fine, yet it refuses to run!
For many years I’ve considered cars as a reflection of people; not only because we all tend to choose a car for a shape and characteristics that suppose to reflect us in many ways, but mostly because vehicles tend to “behave” in the same way we people do.
Take for instance this vehicle I’ve been working on (and still not finished); doesn’t it look like those situations where we are asking a loved one “What’s the matter?” and the only response we get is “Nothing”.
So we quietly think and analyze every memory we have from the past couple of days, trying to find a reason why our loved one is “functioning” in a completely different way than normal. We ask questions, but the answers don’t give any information of what the problem could be.
With the vehicle I’m working on, if the problem showed clearly, it’ll be really easy to apply a solution and the necessary corrections to make the car run smoothly again. The whole process would be quick and painless, and would avoid any unnecessary frustrations and loss of time.
With an honest answer to the question of “What’s the matter”, a change in common actions, or corrections of results about past ones, could mean the solution to the affecting problem, so the situation would be corrected, the problem solved, and friends again, without any misunderstandings and bad moments to everyone involved in the situation.
But just like some vehicles simply refuse to tell openly what the problem is, and somehow start a game of deceiving, with a loved one the same exact situation can happen, leaving us all like that car mechanic (me), who is trying to find the solution by just observation, testing and analysis of responses as the only way to get to the real reason for the change in operational mode.
I know in human situations many times the refusal to “talk” could be with the intention of not hurting feelings, but if both parts have love for the other, then the one with the problem could trust the other and be capable of openly telling what the problem is, and the other part should be able to accept a possible painful criticism that could mean the need of changing a personal behavior.
A car mechanic would want to know what the problem is in the vehicle because his intentions are to fix that problem, and is willing to accept the possibility to have to disassemble lots of components just to reach the part that is the reason of the failure; compared to the driver of the car that, normally, is not interested in fixing anything by him, but in only to have a good running car to use.
So, instead of being just drivers in our love relationship, we have to become mechanics ready to diagnose and repair any problem the relationship might incur in, no matter how much work might be involved from our part.
And like that stubborn car I’m working on, please, please, just tell what the problem is, instead of playing games that only make the mechanic think of the possibility of sending a still good working car to a junk yard!
We already have too many “good working units” roaming the lands in despair after being “discarded”, just because too often in their relationships they refused to tell what the problem was.
Raul
Posted by Raul on December 23, 2010
She had a smile and bright eyes when walking the trail by my side. We didn’t know where we would end up…we just walked the trail with a faint idea of the journey, and some vague plans for the next steps and the days ahead.
The warm breeze of December in the south hemisphere gave the hopes for the unknown, while the holding hands the reassurance for the times to come.
But winter is always ahead, and although we did know, we kept the smile while feeling the breeze in our young faces, walking the path together to the horizon always farther away on the road.
And winter did come.
Then the trail turned from the colored flowers all around to the brownish land of sadness at fall; and the sun changed to a reddish color for the winter and snow ahead. So the walking became hard with the cold wind in the face and the snow on the ground; feeling how the warm days of summer went away to be replaced by the harsh times of the season that had to be gone through.
Did we have to? And the thoughts of going back the trail to the beginning started to take home. Yet the long distance already traveled and the thoughts of going back cold, tired and sad through the same place that was walked warm and with a smile before…
The beginning of the trail and the horizon at the other end, they both seemed the same. We where standing there, trying to find a reason to keep going.
Then the little bird…the unimaginable find in the middle of nowhere; almost buried in the snow, looking at us, waiting to take it with us in our journey; to protect it and grow it as our treasure for the years to come.
So one hand holding the little bird while another found the excuse to touch the now stranger other hand once again. The excuse of the little bird; the responsibility of taking care of it; helping it grow as a given task; while walking the path to nowhere; to the setting sun.
And the little bird did grow!
Protecting it with our cold hands, together from the wind and the snow, just to find later we couldn’t let it go. The growing little bird became the element that held us together while walking the trail without aim, hoping for the warm sun to come back once again in the sky.
Stopping for a moment to look back and find the long trail walked now, and the horizon at the other end, with the promise of spring ahead and warmer days to keep going in the journey started so long ago.
And while the little bird has grown and trying its wings to fly on its own, the sun of spring announces its return and the colored flowers make the promise of a wonderful path to walk once more.
So now the thoughts of letting the once little bird fly on its own, give us the memories of the times when we started this trail so long ago. The two of us, knowing now there’ll be a bird flying somewhere; happily finding his own path and flying through the seasons of life and the fields of love.
While we, confused by the changes ahead, continue to walk this trail, looking at the horizon, knowing spring is coming with its colored flowers in the field, to be followed by the warm breeze of summer, to be back at the beginning while reaching the end of the road.
Raul
Posted by Raul on December 20, 2010
It’s been a long time since visiting this old house. Maybe the memories are too many; maybe the sadness of the departure is too much, I don’t know.
We used to walk for hours talking about so many things; I holding his hand and jumping from time to time, hanging from the strong arm of the old man. Listening to the stories that came every time we walked down this path, to finally without fault, end up the trip in the old bench under the trees, to listen more amazing stories about every little object and creature that could be seen around.
Fall was the time to go visit for I don’t remember what reason. A child running over the accumulated leaves on the ground, and the smile of the old man intently watching, perhaps immersed in memories of his own childhood, gone long time ago.
The wind blowing leaves sometimes, and the cold air coming in everyday with more intensity, as fall made its grand entrance to the stage of life in that remote corner of the world.
Years later, coming back on my own, just to make a short visit to the old man and have a little chat close to the fireplace inside his home.
I remember the time I came with a big smile and a heart full of hopes, after receiving the white paper with golden letters that certified my graduation to the profession that should be the beginning of an exciting life ahead. I remember the serious look in his eyes while reading the piece of paper, then the hand shaking with some emotional eyes that reflected pride and support.
Standing from the big chair and walking to a closet at the other end of the room, to grab an old bottle of wine reserved for some special occasion. A drink by the fireplace, the feeling of being supported, the continuation of himself through the ways of the little one that wasn’t a child anymore, and could be considered another adult, worth of having a glass of wine with.
Then, years later, driving the old road to the old house, to introduce to the old man the new one, the fourth in line, the one just born a couple of months before. His tired hands holding the baby and looking at him with serious eyes, as analyzing the veracity of his existence, or perhaps the pride of seeing how life gave him another step in his long road, I don’t know.
By the time of the next visit strangers where there, violating the space and the property that used to be the old man’s life. Learning then that he was no more, that he was gone, to the eternal trip to become part of the universe, the whole; leaving a feeling of emptiness in those who remained behind.
Today I came back, to the house of a stranger, to walk the trails with tall trees giving the leaves away to cover the ground one more time before winter takes place. Walking the same path done so many times in the past, recalling so many memories of the time spent with the old man.
The bench is still there, but showing signs of not being used anymore, perhaps for a long time now, but standing strong as a monument to the memories that will never die. The place where the old man and I sat for hours to talk, creating that strong relationship that cannot be explained with words…
