TAKE THE JOURNEY…AND SAY NOTHING

Life is a journey. We’ve heard this one before and one too many times and it seems like some glib phrase to impress…but… it rings true…every word of it. For me the journey is all about the little things in life that poke me in the ribs and laugh in my face and challenge me with…`So what are you going to do about it?’…My first reaction is put up a resistance with a mind full of arguments and a mouth full of words. Then I loosen up and say something to myself like…` Go with the flow.’…another cliché…and for me it just means do nothing or leave it for the morrow and the morrows to come.

Our garden, back and front, had grown into a veritable jungle and there was no Jimmy in sight to help us out. He works at Yiannis’ construction company and when we need help, he comes round to dig and clip and plant and crack his jokes and his laughter rings loud in the neighbourhood. But late February we had this little window of opportunity when we were blessed with glorious sunshine pouring down from blue skies… but…he didn’t show his face. He had better things to do. He had grown a little fat around the tummy and a little ruddy in the cheeks and we knew he had been tucking into lots of rich food for his winter calories and flushing it down with robust red wine.

But the man of the house was adamant that we grab our gardening tools and sally forth without any help.

Yiannis: The rain’s going to come down in a few days and…uh…maybe you could start by clipping the rose bushes.

He was sneaking glances at me from the corner of his eye and I was aghast, to say the least. Both Yiannis and Jimmy had conveniently dumped this responsibility on me because I know not how to keep my own counsel. When they were discussing how to prune the roses, some years ago, I as usual, had told them about what I had read in a horticultural article about pruning roses and they promptly slapped the label of Rose Pruner on me. Yiannis also moved in swiftly and gifted me with manual and electric clippers and shears.

Me: I’d gladly do it. But how do I get to the roses? Look at all the weeds and nettles! I’ll have to slash my way with a machete to get to them.

I was hoping he’d drop the whole grandiose scheme and let the garden run wild and we take it up again when the birds come out to build their nests in spring and chirp a merry tune. But our resident engineer went out with dogged determination and started tugging and wrenching those weeds and then gave up in five minutes and marched over to Jimmy’s house with equal determination. He lives in one of those old houses across our narrow side street. The dark garden is recessed in the shade of orange trees and old climber roses. On sunny days he and his mates sit around the barbecue and roast skewed chunky pieces of pork dripping with fat and tear them off the skewers and munch into them and gurgle down strong sweet barrel wine. Yiannis found them roaring with laughter with their mouths stuffed with food.

He came back after what seemed quite a while. He had a trickle of oil down his chin and a grin on his face.

Me: ` Did you eat with them?’

He: Well…they invited me and…I couldn’t say no…I just had a bite and a sip.’

Anyway Jimmy came on Sunday, with Roberto, this skinny guy, in tow. They worked the whole morning and afternoon.  Yiannis joined them at some point and the neighbour across sauntered over and I could hear their booming laughter in the garden. When they left, the garden was cleared and my work was cut out for me.

 On Monday morning bright and early, I pulled on my garden boots and donned my gloves and stomped out to the roses. It was nice and cool and the winter sun was warming my back as I used the electric clippers and it was so easy even with the thick thorny branches. A neighbour peered through the fence and greeted me.

She: Isn’t it a bit too early to prune the roses? Won’t they get burnt by the next cold blast?

Me: I don’t know. I read it’s the best time to prune them.

She: Wow, you’re really cutting them back a lot!

Me: Well I read that you need to cut them back severely if you want better blooms.

She: Hmm… maybe I should prune mine as well…we’ll see.

When she left I hurried indoors in a panic and went online. It said…` Ideally prune your roses in late winter.’…Wow I was relieved. I was afraid I had misinformed the poor woman… Then it went on to say…` But check the weather forecast first. If a cold spell is imminent, avoid pruning them as the freshly clipped stems will suffer injury.’…Woe betide! March inevitably brings icy winds that buffet plants and trees and shake the last leaves off their stems and branches… It also went on to say…`Most varieties may not bloom with severe pruning except for certain classic hybrid teas.’…SNAKES ALIVE!!!! WHAT IS TO BECOME OF ME? Never mind about my roses. What if the neighbour goes home and crops her roses down severely and they become…flowerless???…Why did I need to say that I read this and I read that?

This brings me to another story of me not being able to control my verbal outpourings. We were at the Chinese restaurant with our Saturday night friends two weeks ago and I was telling my friend about how women tend to post photos of their younger selves on social media for all to admire.

She: But people might think that’s how they look now.

Me: Exactly! What happens if they see them in real life?

We both broke out into hysterical laughter.

Me: Would you do such a thing?

She: Oh no! What about you?

Me: Oh never!

I have an old uncle in Malaysia who used to warn us against making bold declarations. He would point his finger heavenwards and whisper…` Somebody is always listening in….’ Well my friends, what can I say but…somebody was listening in. It all started with another journey I was embarking on. I was republishing my book The Rubber Estate Of The One-Eyed God with another publisher and I was wondering where it was going to take me this time. Just when I thought I had delivered all my input for the book, last week they asked me for a photo of myself for the back cover. I sent a recent one that Yiannis had taken of me in a nature park in Chania, looking very much like my present self. They came back to me and said the photo was not high resolution and could I send another one as soon as possible. Where was I to get another one of myself posing all alone? Take a selfie in the garden? Selfies are the worst! They magnify all the wrinkles and the crinkles! I quickly searched through the photo gallery on my phone. There was one taken in Lithuania, me posing in front of Trakai castle and its fabulously blue lake glinting in the background under the August sun. That was eight years ago of a younger me in longer hair. I sent it off. A few days later they sent me the back cover for review. I looked at myself looking back at me…looking ridiculously younger!

So therein lies the problem of shooting off one’s mouth in this journey of life. It has a boomerang effect. It comes right back at you. For as Lao Tzu, our wise old sage of long ago, once said…`He who knows does not speak and he who speaks does not know.’ Or in our modern day lingo…just walk the walk and don’t talk the talk!

So that’s all for now. Cheers