A toast.

A toast to my friend. A toast to a good man. A toast to a warrior of light. A toast to all of you who venture to live your dreams. It seems today is that day. I am so happy right now, because you still walk among us, the few. I am so happy right now, because this means you still follow your heart!

follow your Heart and all will unfold Perfectly

Madonna pt3 Just Jules

I don’t know whether I should tell you this… Jules would be annoyed at me. I’m going to tell you anyway… you know how it used to be, Madonna would shock herself Bzzt ‘BAA and Jules would run outside and shout “DAMNIT MADONNA!” It was their thing that they did every morning. Now, yesterday morning was no different, Bzzt ‘BAA‘ “DAMNIT MADONNA!” and then Jules went back to sitting by the phone like usual, but what was unusual was that at about midday it started to ring, Ring Ring now Jules isn’t used to this to tell the truth he only bought the phone to speak to Chris… who never calls so had never recieved a phonecall before. Ring Ring He looked panicked, what if it was Chris, what if he did the wrong thing and couldn’t speak to him and Chris thought he didn’t want to and never called again. Ring Ring. He grabbed the reciever and shouted down one of the ends the only word that he could. CHRIS!?. I’m not sure what the phone said back, but I do know that it wasn’t Chris… Jules’ face dropped in an instant.

‘Yes’

‘…’

‘… how?’

‘When did this happen?’

‘When is the……’

The phone went dead. Jules didn’t understand, he began shouting down the line. ‘HELLO?’ ‘WHERE WILL IT BE?’ ‘WHEN?’ Then when he realised what had happened he just shouted ‘I HATE YOU’ over and over again while slamming the reciever into the base, I thought he was talking to the person on the other end but he was infact talking to the phone. He shouted and his hand now punctured with shards of plastic was bleeding and he was crying. A lifetime seemed to pass before ran out of energy to shout and ran out of phone to beat into the table, it was just his hand against wood, and he slumped back in his chair. I didn’t know what the phonecall was about, but I have a feeling Madonna did, Bzzt ‘BAA‘… Jules was just staring right ahead his eyes glazed over like he has lost all concept of the outside world. Madonna tried again, Bzzt ‘ BAA’… he blinked, though im not sure if it was in reaction to her or not. Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

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zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…

Several minutes later you could smell burning, then the fuse must have tripped because the buzzing stopped albeit too late.

A few year ago it was Jules and Chris, then lately it was Jules and Madonna, but now, now its Just Jules.

Madonna pt2 Aka Contacting Chris

Jules often jokes that were he to have any more children, Chris would no longer be the favourite. When Chris was a child this made him cry, then when he was a little older he found it quite endearing, but lately he finds it just irritating. That isn’t the reason he left although in heated moments you will hear him declare that it was, the truth is Chris left because he doesn’t want to take care of the farm for his whole life, and who could blame him? Who wants to look after a farm with only one old slightly masochistic sheep. Although in the days Chris was here that farm was a different place, I don’t think he knows that there are no animals left, maybe if he did he would come round. Jules never admits it but he misses the kid around the place, actually Jules always mentions it, the thing he doesn’t mention is the reason why he never actually invites Chris round. But it seems lately Jules has been leaving Chris an awful lot of messages… and I’m worried, because even a Son’s stubborness can only last so long. So in all of the phonecalls and letters Jules has sent, we are wondering what has happened to Chris. But Jules doesn’t concern himself with such thoughts, he just sits close to the phone because it’s where the most comfortable chair in the house is (not coincidentally) and only gets up to eat, or shout at Madonna.

Madonna the Masochistic sheep

She used to be called Esther, but Jules decided that since Madonna had decided to change her name, he would even the world out by renaming Esther, Madonna. And we would like to think that she took it quite well, or at least thats what we tell Jules. The thing about Jules is that he has alot of time on his hands, when he’s used to having none. Ever since the farm went bust and his son moved out, slowly slowly the animals started dying out one at a time. To tell you the truth (and don’t tell him I told you) Madonna/Esther actually died a long time ago, but we pretend it was a different sheep and carry on, but we won’t do that again, firstly because this madonnna is a bit strange… she seems to like the electric fence. Every now and then we’ll hear her shock herself and then bleat loudly and Jules will run outside and shout at her. Its like they’re an old married couple, its their routine. Oh I forgot to mention the other reason we won’t name any other sheep Madonna, there are no sheep left. In fact there are no cows, geese, pigs, horses or chickens either. There’s nothing, actually, just Jules and Madonna.

 

Part 2 coming soon…

A train ride.

5 friends. On a train back to the city of their destiny, fate perhaps, important at least. A train that doesn’t really go where it should go. 5 friends, together again, never lost, never forgotten, but far apart for a long time. Together again. What they should be.

No one says a word. Silence. The only sound is the branches slashing against the side of the train, the diesel engine humming like old diesel engines do. Not one single word. 5 friends. Words are not necessary, silence is all we need. Tired. Excited. Thinking. Reading. Troubled even. Words serve no purpose but worldly communication here. 5 friends. This bond is stronger than that. No one needs to say anything. Simply because what needs to be said will be said in due time.

Still. 5 friends. A train that doesn’t go where it should go. Together again. E trying to make a conversation, not confound to the emptiness of non verbal communication. M reading his book, slowly, a page seems to take forever. H is almost sleeping in the corner, the world forgotten. G, trying to sleep in his own manner, elegant and upright as always. Me, observing, watching the world go by. 5 friends. Together again.

In this moment. This perfect moment. I know. I know what we will do, I remember our purpose. 5. Friends. Together. Again. Silent but not quiet. A moment that will come again and again. Still. 5 friends. A train that doesn’t go where it should. Still, we end up where we want to. Together.

tHis Perfect moment

One hundred…

I was thinking a lot about what to write for this special post. 100 posts means something I guess and I am sure we will all see post 200 at some point. While we are waiting to reach this I am sure we will continue to discuss things that move us and that shape our life. We will see happiness and sorrow, we will find hope and sometimes we will fight hopelessness. But one thing is for sure, we won’t escape this rollercoaster which is our life. So yesterday someone sent me a really good story and I thought I post this here as my 100th post on the BLS blog… Here it goes:

One day a young man was standing in the middle of the town proclaiming that he had the most beautiful heart in the whole valley.

A large crowd gathered and they all admired his heart for it was perfect. There was not a mark or a flaw in it. Yes, they all agreed it truly was the most beautiful heart they had ever seen. The young man was very proud and boasted more loudly about his beautiful heart.

Suddenly, an old man appeared at the front of the crowd and said, “Why your heart is not nearly as beautiful as mine.” The crowd and the young man looked at the old man’s heart. It was beating strongly, but full of scars, it had places where pieces had been removed and other pieces put in, but they didn’t fit quite right and there were several jagged edges. In fact, in some places there were deep gouges where whole pieces were missing.

The people stared ­ “How can he say his heart is more beautiful?” they thought.

The young man looked at the old man’s heart and saw its state and laughed. “You must be joking,” he said. “Compare your heart with mine, mine is perfect and yours is a mess of scars and tears.”

“Yes,” said the old man, “Yours is perfect looking but I would never trade with you. You see, every scar represents a person to whom I have given my love – I tear out a piece of my heart and give it to them, and often they give me a piece of their heart which fits into the empty place in my heart, but because the pieces aren’t exact, I have some rough edges, which I cherish, because they remind me of the love we shared.”

“Sometimes I have given pieces of my heart away, and the other person hasn’t returned a piece of his heart to me. These are the empty gouges – giving love is taking a chance. Although these gouges are painful, they stay open, reminding me of the love I have for these people too, and I hope someday they may return and fill the space I have waiting. So now do you see what true beauty is?”

The young man stood silently with tears running down his cheeks.

He walked up to the old man, reached into his perfect young and beautiful heart, and ripped a piece out. He offered it to the old man with trembling hands. The old man took his offering, placed it in his heart and then took a piece from his old scarred heart and placed it in the wound in the young man’s heart. It fit, but not perfectly, as there were some jagged edges.

The young man looked at his heart, not perfect anymore but more beautiful than ever, since love from the old man’s heart flowed into his.

They embraced and walked away side by side.

… having said enough…