The opinionated

I wonder what the reaction would be if those who so readily express opinions about the morals and general behaviour of others were asked to express an opinion about themselves? 

 

Their opinion of their own morals and general behaviour? It might make for an interesting conversation I think.

 

But this is what we all tend to do nowadays – from political leaders, newspaper columnists, radio “shock jocks”, TV commentators, and us, lesser mortals – they, we, all express opinions. Everyone has an opinion about something. However (in my opinion!) this is never knowledge based. In any event a “knowledge based opinion” would be an oxymoron, in my opinion!

 

You see if your appearance is different – your skin colour or the shape of your eyes, or you worship God (I believe there is only one) in a different way, or speak a different language from me, or dress in a “funny way”, then, in my “opinion” you are not to be trusted. You might be a rapist, or a criminal, a fraudster, a drug addict – whatever. In my “opinion” that is. Never based on “knowledge”, or verifiable facts, only in my opinion.

 

It has been declared by some (please allow for the hyperbole) that being good (therefore more like me) you are more likely to have blue eyes, a smile with pristine white teeth and blonde hair. Being evil (or different from me) you will have you black hair, red eyes, rotting teeth, and horns!

 

You know as well as I do that this is complete hogwash – that good (and bad) people are everywhere in every society. We are all part of the human “family” – good, bad and indifferent. 

 

So why then do we so freely express our opinion? I have no real idea (opinion?) except to say that (in my opinion) it might be to cause controversy. If I was a politician it might be to please my political “base” to ensure my re-election. Possibly it might be to start a rumour that may increase the value of my shares in a particular company. There is no limit to the range of human ingenuity, particularly when it comes to looking after “me” and preening my ego.

 

Bearing all this in mind and referring back to my original question, I wonder what the reaction would be if someone was asked to express their opinion of themselves?

 

Interesting.

It's a world of partings

It’s a very true saying – that this is “a world of partings”. There is no need to get maudlin about it. It just is what it is. Friends parting; young family members going their separate ways in the world; divorce; then the most confronting parting of all – death.

 

Nothing anyone can do about it. But, as I have written before, no one knows or has the least understanding of the “meaning” of Life (with a capital L) or what happens when some previously living organism is now dead. What happens to the “Life force” that enervated or activated that organism and which is now (apparently) absent? No one has the least idea.

 

Many, many years ago, when I and the world was much younger, I came across a poem that intrigued me without my fully understanding what it meant. Now, after both my marriages ended with the death of my wife and the death of my sibling, parents and many friends I think I, more or less, understand it now (maybe I’m just a slow learner!).

 

In neither situation, regarding my marriages, was I able to do anything. Obviously, one cannot “fight” death!

 

But I’m still intrigued by this poem!

 

The Shadow.

 

The Shadow leaned over me, whispering, in the darkness,

            Thoughts without sound; 

Sorrowful thoughts that filled me with helpless wonder

            And held me bound.

 

Sadder than memory, sharp as remorse, in the quiet

            Before I slept,

The whisper I heard of the one implacable Shadow,

            And my heart wept.

 

“Day by day, in your eyes, the light grows dimmer,

            With the joy you have sung.

You knew it would go; but, ah, when you knew it and 

      sang it,

            Your heart was young;

 

“And a year to you, then, was an age; but now” said

      The Shadow,

            Malignant and cold,

“The light and the colour are fading, the ecstasy dying,

            It is time to grow old.”

 

Oh, I could have borne the worst that he had to tell me,

            Lost youth, age, death;

But he turned to breathe on the quiet heart sleeping 

     beside me

            The same cold breath.

 

And there by the throat I grappled him. “Let me bear

     all of it.

            Let her dream on.”

Soundlessly, shadow with shadow, we wrestled together,

            Till the grey dawn.

 

                                                            Alfred Noyes.