The Secret of Happiness

I was asked the other day "what is happy". For a moment I was unable to answer, then I thought about it and came up with these:

Happy -  when I feel content perhaps in the garden strolling around with my dogs

Happy - when I think of something funny that someone has said that makes me feel good

Happy - passing someone on the street and they give you a smile

Happy - Feeling satisfied with a job well done

Happy - Having a sense of trust and confidence in someone

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There was once a boy who hardly had any toys or money.
Nevertheless, he was a very happy little boy. He said that what made him happy was doing things for others, and that doing so gave him a nice feeling inside.

However, no one really believed him; they thought he was loopy.
He spent all day helping others, dispensing charity to the poorest, and looking after abandoned animals. Very seldom did he ever do anything for himself.

One day, he met a famous doctor who thought the boy's case was so peculiar that he decided to investigate him. So, with a complex system of cameras and tubes, the doctor managed to record what was happening inside the boy. What he discovered was surprising.
Each time the boy did something good, a thousand tiny angels gathered around the boy's heart and started tickling it.

That explained the boy's happiness, but the doctor continued studying until he discovered that we all have our own thousand angels inside us. Unfortunately, he found that, as we do so few good things, the angels spend most of their time wandering about, bored.

And so it was that the secret to happiness was discovered. Thanks to that little boy we now know exactly what we have to do to feel our hearts being tickled.

To be happy is to appreciate who you are and what you've got, life can be fun

Have a very Happy Day

Returning "Home"

The New Forth Bridge, The Rail Bridge and Road Bridge

Soon I will be winging my way to Scotland for a six week holiday, it will be four years since I have been back, not that I expect to see many changes in the countryside or weather patterns, the changes I will see however, will be in my sister's grandchildren. This is when you realize that the years are ticking by and the youngsters are growing up and I will no doubt be looking up at them and they looking down to me. Also, an additional New Bridge over the River Forth which I will be looking forward to seeing.

As we get older we tend to look at life a little differently, with a view that perhaps in this instance for me, this may be the last time I will visit my birth place and meet up with family and dear friends. I do not like the thought of not seeing everyone again and so I shall go with the thought that I will be back one day.

I found this little story which is so true in many ways:

When you are little you love your house, no matter what. It’s your castle, your playground. Your fortress of solitude. No one has a porch as big as yours, and certainly they’ve never seen a deck and rope swing like the one you have out back. No sir. Then you grow up, move away. If you’re lucky, your parents stay — but every time you go back to visit, it gets just a bit smaller. Perhaps a tad shabbier. You stay away for a long time. When you finally go back home, you’re shocked. It’s run down, dusty, falling apart in places. At first you wrinkle your nose, but the more you look around, the harder you look, you see it. Those bits that you loved peek back at you. Your favourite reading spot is still there. And you realize you could never quit it entirely. In fact, you dream that maybe someday it could be your house. And you could fix it, make it better than it ever was. Maybe you can. Let’s hope so.


Enjoy your day

A Yachting Legend

Another picture taken from a walk through the Hatea River tracks. With the America's cup being contested at this time, I thought this lovely kayak scene looked very serene and calm, which is a far cry from the incidents and excitement of the yacht races being undertaken in Bermuda at the moment. Of course living in New Zealand I am hoping that 'Team New Zealand' will once again bring home the cup.  I guess time will tell.

A short insight into the legendary Sir Peter Blake

Sir Peter Blake is a New Zealand-born yachting legend

Famously, Sir Peter Blake is the only sailor to have taken part in the first five Whitbread Round the World races - now known as the Volvo Ocean Race.

Held every four years, the race follows a general route from Europe, south through the Atlantic Ocean, around the tip of Africa, and then across the southern ocean.

Blake first sailed in the Whitbread in 1973 - 74. In 1989 - 90, he skippered Steinlager to an unprecedented clean sweep where his team walked off with line, handicap and overall honours for each of the race''s six legs.

The following year (1991), he was knighted by Queen Elizabeth. 

America’s Cup Brought in at the last minute to manage New Zealand''s 1992 America''s Cup challenge, Blake led the Kiwi team to the challenger finals with NZL-20. However, it was Italy that finally emerged from the controversial Louis Vuitton Cup series to face the US for the America''s Cup.

In 1995 Blake came back as the syndicate head of Team New Zealand. Sailing NZL 32 Black Magic, the Kiwi team made a clean sweep, beating Dennis Conner''s Stars & Stripes 5- 0 and providing one of the most dominating performances in America''s Cup history.

During the 1995 series, Blake became famous for his lucky red socks. A gift from his wife, he wore the same pair throughout the entire 1995 America''s Cup challenge.

Governor General Catherine Tizard described the 1995 America''s Cup win as New Zealand''s proudest day since Sir Edmund Hillary''s conquest of Everest in 1953.

In 2000 Blake led Team New Zealand in only the second non-American defence of the Americas Cup - beating Italians Prada 5 - 0.

After the 2000 success, Sir Peter Blake stood down from Team New Zealand.

2001: Tragic death Tragically - on 5 December 2001 - pirates shot and killed Blake while he was on an environmental exploration trip in South America, monitoring global warming and pollution for the United Nations.

The two-month expedition was anchored off Macapá, at the mouth of the Amazon delta, waiting to clear customs. At around 9pm, a group of six to eight armed, masked robbers boarded the Seamaster.

As one of the robbers held a gun to the head of a crewmember, Blake sprang from the cabin wielding a rifle used to ward off polar bears. He shot one of the assailants in the hand before the rifle malfunctioned.

Blake was fatally shot in the back, and two other crew members suffered knife-wounds. The remaining seven were unhurt.

Authorities eventually captured the pirates and sentenced them to an average of 32 years each in prison.

The Sir Peter Blake Trust was established - with the support of the Blake family - in December 2003 with the aim of helping New Zealanders "to make a positive difference for the planet through activities that encourage environmental awareness and action, and leadership development".

Have a good day

The Highland Cow (Scottish Heilin Coo)

My walk this morning with my two Labradors took us past a herd of Highland cows or in Scotland  ''Heilan Coo." They were grazing very quietly and contently until Bridie the younger of my dogs took umbrage to these strange looking large animals with big horns and lunged at them barking. Of course there was a fence between us and them, if there had not been one, Bridie would have skirted round these magnificent looking beasts or stuck to my legs like glue. A few of the cows looked up and gave a snuffled acknowledgement to our passing whilst the others continued to graze, unperturbed and didn't move an inch.

I noticed a sign on the farm gate "Highland Cows for Sale" I could have been tempted to buy a couple, however, having only an acre of landscape ground and of course a stroppy Labrador, sort of made my mind up for me not to even contemplate this. I am hoping that one day I shall be fortunate enough to see a very young calf amongst this herd, Watch this space.

I found this rather interesting true story of someone who was looking after a friend's three Highland Cows whilst the friend went on holiday. This note was pinned to the barn door.

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A HIGHLAND COW

The following is a schedule of events in the life of a highland cow in Summer pasture mode:

5:30  to  6:00 a.m .  -  Cows wake up.  Senior cow gets up first and stands in front of the other cattle so they can admire her.  All then get up and do a little ritual poop.  Cows may make sarcastic greetings to each other like "good morning hairbag" or "who made those horns?"

6:00  to  8:00 a.m.  -  general grazing time, followed by a period of staring at the master's home.  All drink water during this period.

8:00  to  9:00 a.m.  -  All cattle receive the master, reporting any overnight problems and complaints.  Common complaints are: quality of hay, grass has lost it's crunch, why are we not being raked more regularly etc.  Master gives hay and they show appreciation by staring at him and threatning to break wire and escape or rub and kill more trees.

9:00  to  11:00 a.m.  -  Cattle find shade and socialize. The senior cow leads discussions.. (I have learned their lingo, so have a fair understanding of what goes on)...basically they gossip!  They are very interested in visitors and the shoes, belts or gloves they wear, wondering who they once may have been.  Highland cows have no teeth on top so can't say their "L"s.  They talk of escape from the master during these socials.  This escape talk never goes any place, probably due to their speech impediments.  One recent exchange went like this.  "Rets rush master when by fence raking reaves, knock him off his regs and break for woods, cross that rittle rake through the woods to rarger, greener pasture."

11:00  to  4:00 p.m.  -  general grazing, pooping and peeing, rubbing on trees, trying to break fence, resting in shade, staring at master's house or watching him work around yard or barn.  A highlight of this period is when master's wife yells at him or he does something stupid  that appeals to their sense of humor.  Highland cows don't laugh openly, but smile and grin with a slight upper lift of their mouths.

4:00  to  7:00 p.m.  -  eat hay master has given them, poop and pee followed by a time of meditation.  Highland cattle have no religion but know they are sacred and play on this.  Crop circles, sacred cows, their role at the nativity and in Scotland's history is very important to them.  The face west as the sun sets and place their noses on the ground, standing perfectly still for up to a minute.  It is a most moving ceremony.

7:00  to  Dusk  -  Senior cow decides where they will bed down for night. She usually sleeps looking towards master's home, with other cattle behind.  They are very quiet during this period; however, there is some lowing or "rowing" as they say.

At Dusk  -  To get to sleep, cows tell stories for night.  These are epic tales which highland cattle have passed down for centuries...I have overheard them.  Some of their favourites are:

• Wellington Wullie" - about a lonely shepherd who goes nuts and tries to ravish a herd of highlands -
• Old Mary and the Wolf" - about an old cow who fights off a wolf to save her calf -
• "How the snake got it's name",  and on full moon nights, the horror tale "Jock be nimble, Jock be quick.

Then they fall to sleep secure in the knowledge that the master loves and cares for them and has been placed on this earth to serve their every need and be their devoted servant.

THE END  

Enjoy your day

   

Wishing Well

I was given this lovely wishing well as a Christmas gift and have planted poppies and succulents in the various layers.

There are other wishing wells of course that hold water and have coins in the bottom of them which have been thrown in by those making a wish for something important in their lives. I wonder just how many of those wishes have come true. I hope many of them.

It was said that the Wishing Well was only ever found by those who believed they would find it. No sooner had they emptied the bucket of their wishes then the Well would vanish and reappear somewhere else.

So it was perhaps ironic that the last person to find the Wishing Well was one of the rare souls who wanted nothing at all. His home was wherever he lay his head to sleep that night and, owning no more than the clothes on his back, he was grateful that he had nothing to carry. His friends were the people he happened to meet as he walked the earth and he travelled wherever the winds blew him – until one day when a mischievous gust nudged him into a large open field with a stone well in the middle.

It was a hot day so he walked up to the well to slake his thirst and lowered the bucket to pull himself a drink of water. The rope seemed creaky and reluctant though and when it came up too light to have filled, he expected to find holes in the bottom of the bucket. Instead there was a folded note. Opening it he read:

Are you sure?

Scratching his head he suddenly saw the words carved into the stone rim and all at once he understood where he was and broke into hearty laughter. What on earth could he wish for? He needed new shoes, it was true – but the ones he wore were so comfy now that his feet were used to them. He could do with something to eat but he was willing to bet there were berries in season in the forest. He briefly considered asking for a new razor as the one he had was going quite rusty – but it seemed a waste of a wish and he rather fancied himself with a beard anyway.

It struck him as a little sad that so many people would have given their little finger to be where he stood and yet he couldn’t think what to wish for. Then inspiration struck and he lowered the bucket, chuckling as he dunked it in the water below and pulled up a load of…dynamite. Striking a match on the stubble of his chin, he lit the fuse and, as he let the bucket fall, he ran away as fast as his legs would carry him.

A loud explosion from behind sent him sprawling flat on his face and suddenly the air filled with a cacophony of sound; elephants blowing their trumpets mixed with the sound of roaring locomotives and a New Orleans jazz band. He raised his head to see all the water from the Well shooting up in the air in an impossible collage of images – flamingos performed ballet upon the back of an enormous sunburned whale, polar bears kissed passionately in tuxedos and telephone boxes argued furiously about whether there was such a thing as free will…

And then it was all gone. The water from the Wishing Well evaporated into the sky and mingled with the clouds. A sharp breeze came along and in no time the clouds were dispersed far and wide across the planet.

Which is why, if you ever want a wish to come true, all you have to do is take a walk in the rain, stick out your tongue and maybe, just maybe, you’ll catch a drop from the Wishing Well.

Stranger things have happened, next rainfall have a go!

Have a nice day

Mantis

praying Mantis

Having lunch in the sun the other day I saw this little guy slowly walking along the deck looking very unsteady on his feet. It is of course a praying Mantis. They are fascinating little insects to watch as they slowly but surely find their way to where they want to go. I have read that the New Zealand native praying Mantis are being pushed out and threatened by the recently accidentally introduced South African Mantis. The New Zealand Mantis is always green and have blue spots on their forearm. I have heard that they can bite, however I let this one crawl on my hand then placed him on a gardenia plant so that the dogs did not squash him. I may have saved the predator as I could not find any blue spots, ah well, no worries, I could not have taken his life, so he lives to fight another day!


A story is told about a monk who lived in a monastery in the bamboo forests of Southern China. During an early morning walk, he noticed a preying mantis balancing delicately on a twig. A bird, obviously thinking the fragile-looking insect would make an easy meal, fluttered down onto the twig and attacked. The monk watched in amazement as the mantis stood its ground and fended off the much-larger bird.
This monk went on to develop a style of fighting named after the little insect — one that was based on a humble, steadfast spirit; a refined sense of balance; a ferocious focus; and a highly developed efficiency and economy of movement. The style proved to be devastating as a martial art, yet so spiritually profound, that it was considered to be one of the highest levels of training in the temple.
Today, the spirit of Mantis continues through the work of Sifu David Moragne, who has started the only Southern Praying Mantis Kung Fu school in the state, at the request of his teacher, Master Gin Foon Mark.

Mantis is more than a martial art.

Mantis is an attitude.


Have a wonderful day