Blog Archives - FordeFables

August 31st, 2016.

31/8/2016

Thought for today:
"Whatever I am, for either good or bad, of one thing I know with certainty; I am me and being so, makes me different to everyone else. Being different can be a very liberating thing and when we lose the right to be different, we lose the privilege to be free. Being different isn't wrong in itself, as it merely represents what is. What is wrong is when we try to emphasise our differences to another for the sake of our own vanity or for the purpose of putting them down and trying to make them feel inferior while attempting to make ourselves look superior.

We all boil at different degrees, so, if you want to stand out, don't be different, be outstanding! Always be yourself at its best, because originality is no more than a reflection of your deepest sincerity. There will be times when it is wise to go along with the crowd, especially if the crowd is heading in the right direction, but it is most unwise to ever let another think your thoughts for you, speak your words, govern your actions, dream your dreams or live your life.

We ride the crest of the waves to personal success when we employ the positive energy of our own unique spirit. Only dead fish swim with the stream of negative thought! Only when we learn to recognise the uniqueness of our person, may we feel confident enough to lay ourselves open and not be afraid to place our honest feelings and dealings with all others above board for public scrutiny.

My advice, after you have made friends with yourself, is to make your peace with family, friends, neighbours and all creatures that surround you. Remember the words of Martin Luther King Jr when he reminded us that together we swim and divided we sink into gradual depravity. We may have all come to the place we are at on different ships, but we're in the same boat now and we sink or swim together. William Forde: August 31st, 2016.

August 30th, 2016.

30/8/2016

Thought for today:
"One is never too young to learn respect for all of God's creatures, the planet, one's fellow man and one's self; for within one's respect lies the spirituality of one's purpose. We cannot give our respect to others unless we first hold it for ourselves. As my mother often said as she reprimanded me for slouching, 'Billy, if you carry yourself like a King, you’ll get your Queen, but carry yourself as a hoe, and a rake is all you'll ever hold in your hands!'

Respect is that intangible thing one instantly recognises by its absence or presence. It should never be bestowed with profit in mind. Like discerning Facebook contacts, we should not 'like' just to 'be liked' in return. When we bestow respect on another, it should be given freely with no thought of return. Respect knows no boundary. Your respect for another will stretch only as far as the degree of respect you hold for yourself; it acknowledges no race superior to that of another, it does not distinguish unfavourably between man, woman or child, rich or poor, black or white, famous or unknown. We owe all others no less respect than we owe ourselves, and it remains beholding on us to pay all dues.

There are many things in life that seem so easy to respect at the passing out parade; the bravery of soldiers fighting for one's country, that special relationship between a mother and child as mum gives that extra push to give her offspring a start in life, a person struggling and working every hour God sends them to make ends meet and to put food on the family table and clothes on their children's backs, a double amputee with artificial arms and legs fighting to regain mobility, etc. etc.

But what about the cause that conceals its deserved respect beneath a cover of conspicuous circumstances which look unappealing? I never meet a ragged tramp in the street without feeling that I might owe him my salute, for I know not what possibilities may be buttoned up beneath his coat as he bravely soldiers on one day to the next in his war on want. Just because he's on the streets today, doesn't tell us where he walked one year ago. He might have worn the Queen's uniform and fought for the freedom of other people in Afghanistan or Iraq! Who knows what others keep buttoned up that is deserving of our respect?" William Forde: August 30th, 2016.

August 29th, 2016.

29/8/2016

Thought for today:
"There is nothing quite like standing in the face of the wind to blow away the cobwebs of past worries.

Soon, the last trace of summer season will have departed, to be slowly replaced by the lifting air of autumn intoxication, with wild winds scattering fallen leaves like hands of nature upon the ground, that rustle lightly in soft applause beneath fine foot and squelch in childlike delight on muddy ground when trampled on.

Only gusting winds on high cliff tops reveal the closeness between the earth beneath and the sky above; between this life and the next. A leap of faith is all that awaits us, to find the purpose of our existence.

The answer my friend is blowing in the wind, the answer is blowing in the wind." William Forde: August 29th, 2016.
https://youtu.be/vWwgrjjIMXA

August 28th, 2016.

28/8/2016

Thought for today:
"I recently discovered that two face book friends of mine, Ann and Tom Rhodes of Cleckheaton have been married 49 years and will be celebrating their Golden Wedding anniversary on December 17th, next. Tom has a terminal illness like me and has spent the past two years defying the doctors by hanging around when they tell him he should be gone by now. It is my dearest wish that Ann and Tom get to celebrate their Golden Wedding Anniversary together and if any of you out there would like to remember this landmark of theirs, it would please me immensely if you make a mental note of this date in advance, so that you might congratulate the golden couple on their special day.

In times when the marriage contract often starts to fade before the ink has dried, how marvellous an example such a happily married couple like Ann and Tom are. Such loyalty, devotion and dedication towards each other is both rare and enviably.

Like many a married person who has loved and married more than once, I also wanted it to be 'forever' when I married, but it wasn't to be so. So I tried a second time, and that marriage, although happy for the most part of its 28 years, still ended before my heart had given up on it. Twice married and twice divorced to two women who no longer wished to remain married, I withdrew from the marital stakes and determined to grow old, a man of single status.

Then, one November day in 2010, I visited Haworth and took a stroll up Main Street. Having being a published author since 1989, loving literature all my life and being an ardent reader of history, visiting the village of the famous Bronte sisters seemed the perfect way for a man of romantic inclination to leisurely spend the afternoon. As I walked up the cobbled street seeped in history, the women that passed down it seemed to get prettier each time one passed by and looked my way. Then, I saw her. She was sitting alone at a corner table in a restaurant called Gascoignes at the top of Main Street. Without giving my next move a second thought, I found my old legs walking inside Gascoignes and taking up the chair next to the black-haired maiden.

I wasn't aware of it at that precise moment, but having stopped looking for love, I had found it once more, in the corner of a Haworth cafe.

I knew the first moment I saw Haworth that it was heaven on earth. I knew when I first saw Sheila that she was different to other women, even though I wasn't quite sure at the time that she was the woman for me. Since the moment I first left her that afternoon, my legs and heart longed to return to Haworth for a second glance, and since that second glance, my eyes have been fixated. It was nothing tangible that I could touch and say, 'That's it! That's the love I seek,' but more a feeling that told me that all I now saw would be all I ever wanted.

Sheila, I waited for your next spoken word before the sound of your last had left my ears. When you touched my mind, you left an impression to remind me in future years why I fell in love with you. But, it was only when you touched my heart, I knew that I would never forget you. Only through loving you, have I learned what really matters in my life. Indeed, it is only through your love that I can sometimes know a happy selfishness; that nothing else matters except you, me, our dog Lady and Haworth.

I know that we came to each other late in life and can never hope to make the marital milestones of fifty, nay twenty-five years as man and wife; probably not even ten. It would be wonderful were my health to allow us to reach the ten-year milestone and I know that whilst we may not always see eye to eye on all things small in life, as far as those bigger and more significant issues go, we will always be of one mind and heart. It was you who taught me that once two people share the same spiritual dimension, their minds, hearts and souls are forever mated.

The world would be an uglier place without Haworth and my world would be much uglier without you, Sheila. My love for you is infinite, Sheila Forde; nothing else is worth searching for, and all else is a mere illusion of a cobbled dream." William Forde: August 28th, 2016.

August 27th, 2016.

27/8/2016

Thought for today:
"As far as my memory can stretch back, I have always loved trees. Trees to me are God's sentries placed on earth to show the way to heaven. Like mankind, they thrive on light and grow more magnificent in nourishing soil when they receive daily confirmation that they are truly loved. Like every growing child, pat it regularly and never keep it short of hugs and it will grow ever stronger. Indeed, caressing and hugging arms are the homeland of trees.

My love of trees started when I was laid up in the side room of Batley Hospital as an 11-year-old boy, having had a serious traffic accident and wasn't expected to live. All I could see as I drifted in and out of consciousness was an oak tree in the grounds outside my window. When I eventually managed to survive, the very first thing I saw upon opening my eyes was the oak tree outside, moving in the wind. I cannot tell you how good I felt to see that tree swaying in the wind; how good I felt to wake up, alive. From that moment on, trees have always been synonymous with the oxygen of life and I have always needed them in mine to feel fulfilled.

After leaving hospital after nine months with a spinal injury that left all feeling beneath my waist lacking, I was told by the doctors that I'd never walk again.Three years later, my walking mobility was restored and during my time away from school, I would frequently walk to a place called Bluebell Wood, about two miles from Windybank Estate where I lived. I frequently walked the two miles to keep an appointment with my oak tree. Those walks were ever so slow, but ever so precious to me. Getting better and resuming a more normal life after my accident, took lots of patience and self belief. My walking gate was never again upright, as I now had one leg a few inches shorter than the other and occasionally I might stumble as I walked across the fields of Green Lane towards Bluebell Wood. It was at such times that I reflected that a tree falls the way it leans as I tried to walk more upright.

As I approached Bluebell Wood, my heart beat quickened with excitement. I knew that I could never walk through the wood without beautiful thoughts of Nature's wonderment descending on me and I also knew that one hour later, I would feel totally relaxed. When I reached Bluebell Wood, I would make my way towards its centre, where stood a magnificent oak tree. Upon reaching my favourite spot I would lie down at the base of the tree in the lush expanse of grass that surrounded its trunk, close my eyes and relax. During my three years of being unable to walk, I had learned to access the power of my imagination and had become a disciple of meditation, learning to totally relax.

Looking up through the branches above, I could see the sunlight percolating its way back down towards my hands and face below and pleasurably warming me. Listening to the silence and noises of the wood, I could hear birds and other woodland creatures far clearer than I'd ever heard them. I could hear the ripple of a nearby stream, slowly meandering its way across the small stones and boulder which blocked its path. I allowed my body to sink into the ground beneath me and to become one with the earth as I relaxed and gradually drifted off to sleep.

Over the years that followed, I became one of the country's noted Relaxation Trainers. In my 30s, I had a health scare when I was admitted into hospital for a week to undergo cancer tests. It was then that I realised that if I died, I would not have left on record, my knowledge of Relaxation Training. Upon leaving hospital, I spent a few thousand pounds and two weeks in a recording studio to make a special Relaxation tape to help people establish a good sleeping practice. For the imagery of that tape, I drew heavily upon trees and especially my earlier experiences relaxing in Bluebell Wood as a young boy. Anyone wishing to access that tape can do so freely by following the link, but please understand that the tape recording is now forty years old when comparing the quality with recordings made today:
http://www.fordefables.co.uk/relax-with-bill.html

Roots, family trees and Nature are one and the same to me. To me, I could cry when I read about the wanton destruction of the rain forest, our natural medicine chest, and I frequently wonder that were we to see trees bleed and hear them scream as they were being cut down, would we be so cavalier in felling them for furniture and land clearance? In this age where often people have no sense of belonging, trees help us keep us grounded, and in touch with our family roots and who we are. They remind us that we are all fashioned from the same wood, grown by the same woodsman. Unless we hold on firmly to our roots, how can we ever know that we are anymore but dreams? A history of family is the best means of assessing ourselves and it pays to remember that whatever else changes, we start and end with family.

I will take with me to my grave, my love of family, my love of history and my love of trees, and if there be a heaven where I am fortunate to go, I pray God that it is the greenest of places where I can rest beneath an oak tree. I give you a few lines from a poem by one of my favourite writers, William Wordsworth, 'The Tables Turned.'

'One impulse from a vernal wood
May teach you more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the ages can.'

Growing up, my mother frequently reminded me when I was prone to hit out, 'Billy, it is wrong to hit out, but okay to hit back.' When I think of some car accidents, I must admit that I never heard of a tree hitting any car, except in defence, did you?' " William Forde: August 27th, 2016.

August 26th, 2016.

26/8/2016

Thought for today:
For every man and woman who has ever lived, there is a charm about the forbidden that makes the unspeakable highly desirable. And yet, we are brought up knowing that to indulge one's every feeling is the quickest way to lose touch with all that is good and wholesome.

Mankind, by the frailty of his very nature, is gluttonous to desire and weak to temptation. If there are two temptations before him, he will invariably chose the one he hasn't tried before, believing that chance may not come around twice.

Where temptation is concerned, there is little difference between the sexes. While Eve was the first to eat the apple, who says that Adam would not have succumbed, had he been the one first tempted. In my experience, when women go wrong, men are never too far behind their reasoning and can usually be found lurking in the background. There is no greater temptation for any good man than to find himself in bed with a bad woman or any worst prospect for a good woman than to find herself wed to a bad man whom she cannot change!

As my mum used to say, 'Billy, what you don't know can't tempt you, but whatever you do, keep away from those Heckmondwike girls. They'll be the death of you.' Like many a foolish young man who disregarded his mother's advice and opted to do the opposite, I had to go and marry a Heckmondwike helicopter (a wife who constantly hovers and never lets you from her sight once she has parked you on her pad), before truly recognising mum's wisdom.

And while there is more evil to be found in the least of sins than the greatest of afflictions, my biggest temptation today lies in eating too much of my beautiful wife Sheila's scrumptious apple pies. Isn't it strange that it takes a kitchen Goddess to bring out the devil in a good man?" William Forde: August 26th, 2016.

August 25th, 2016

25/8/2016

Thought for today:
"If you truly love nature, you truly love God. In the world of Nature, you will find beauty everywhere there is life; all you have to do is look. Experience an early morning stroll through woodlands, across fields and down country lanes and savour this experience as your first blessing of the day. Every plant, creature, bird, tree, stream, hedgerow and blade of grass you pass contains life of the Creation. You can go into the woods in spring, summer, autumn and winter and have your imagination run wild or be soothed and healed by the naturalness of your surroundings and have all your senses restored to order. All of this can be yours, simply for the taking. Would that I could take it still; far far better to experience Nature and become a living part of it than to write about it.

There is nothing more romantic to the soul than to be in love with the green earth and to delight in the cosmos of colours and the fragrant splendour that intoxicates nostrils and embraces feelings of wonderment. Nothing stirs the senses as much as the passing of the seasons; the living of Nature's year. It is so natural to love nature, for when you love nature, you naturally love self and are one with God." William Forde: August 25th, 2016.

August 24th, 2016.

24/8/2016

Thought for today:
"We seem to be living in a world where governments care more about international commerce and business concerns than with the stability of nature and maintenance of the eco-system. The government has recently approved an application to use bee-killing neonicotinoid pesticides on British fields, but the lack of transparency around the decision has angered campaigners and over 500,000 have signed a petition objecting strongly to this short-sighted policy. 'Bee warned', this is nothing less than madness!

All manner of insects fascinate me; particularly how so small a creature can have so big an impact on the quality of my life.

Often I've been asked what purpose do wasps serve, especially after having been stung by one? In early summer, wasps, like bees, pollinate plants and flowers as they feed on nectar. If we were to eradicate all wasps, it would cause more problems than it would solve. So, wasps do serve a purpose, and despite being a problem at certain times of the year, they are a highly beneficial insect. In the natural world, wasps, although irritating to humans, have their role to play in our continued well-being.

The daily presence of wasps carries much more than a sting in their tail. They act as a remainder to all of us that we each have our role to play within the larger picture. What is your role in this life? What role do you play within your family, your neighbourhood, within your workplace or with your friends? Is it one of loving partner, benevolent neighbour, best friend, reliable colleague or purposeful irritant?

Sometimes I have thought it might be nice to be a fly on the wall and listen to what others truly think of us? On the other hand, forget that notion. I'd sooner smell the fragrance of the bloom from a safe distance than get up too close and risk getting stung on the nose with too much truth!" William Forde: August 24th, 2016.

August 23rd, 2016

23/8/2016

Thought for today:
"One knows nothing of true embrace until one has hugged their pet after a long absence. Until one has loved an animal as endearingly as any human, one's heart has not been fully opened or one's soul truly awakened. Hugs are the universal language of love embraced by all animal lovers and lovers of mankind.

Preparing for the final absence of a pet is very hard to bear and it makes every day they continue to be around one more special day to treasure. I once knew an elderly man called Charlie from Brighouse. Charlie was a vagrant and had little money to spare and existed from week to week on social security benefits. However little money he had though, and however hungry he got from time to time, he never failed to feed his beloved dog. As far as Charlie was concerned, his dog came first in all considerations. His dog was one of those extremely small breeds, and although it was the mongrel product of a street romance between 'The lady and the tramp,' it was always at Charlie's side. More often than not, particularly in wet or cold weather, one would approach Charlie in the street before seeing his small dog, snuggled inside his overcoat collar.

The death of Charlie's dog was the talk of the town when it eventually happened. Initially, after the dog had died from old age, Charlie entered a stage of denial and refused to accept his pet had passed away. Indeed, poor Charlie seemed to lose it after the death of his pet and refused to dispose of its body. He still filled its eating bowl and during his first week of bereavement, he still walked it, carrying its corpse inside his overcoat. Charlie had to be eventually committed to the old Storthes Hall Psychiatric Hospital in Huddersfield and received ECT shock treatment. My late mother was a patient at Storthes Hall Hospital at the time; herself having incurred a nervous breakdown. After mum had returned home, I never heard of Charlie again.

Sadly, our Rough Collie, 'Lady' is now entering her final stages of life and it is impossible not to note the gradual changes in her overall appearance, daily functioning and general behaviour. Where her coat was once thick, it is now much thinned and covers a corresponding loss of weight. She walks more slowly and for less distance, and now spends most of her day curled up on the rug, sleeping. One can feel the pain in her stride and the uncertainty as she tries to negotiate a few steps. She has even lost her bounce and bark upon her first greeting of the day and no longer runs to fetch the thrown ball, but instead stares at it like a cat might, as she thinks, 'You're the one who threw it; you fetch it!'

No longer has she the stamina to walk the moors each morning with Sheila as she approaches the winter of her life. She returns from her morning outing shattered. It is very sad to see her tail become thinner; it reminds me of the lowering of one's flag. She still possesses those sad eyes that all pets and partners seem capable of displaying, whenever they want something, and she has most certainly become more clingy to Sheila and follows her faithfully all day long, like a shadow who might disappear when the sun goes down. The one thing she remains constant of, is her need for a hug. Like all humans, dogs never grow too old to appreciate a cuddle.

I believe that all dogs were created by God to keep mankind more alive. When Lady dies, I know that both me and Sheila will find the loss hard. We will hopefully find consolation in each others loving arms and also in the thought that there is no death, only a change of worlds where new coats grow ever more splendidly." William Forde: August 23rd, 2016.

August 22nd, 2016.

22/8/2016

Thought for today:
"One of life's greatest fears for many today, is growing old alone and having nobody by their deathbed or at their funeral service when the time comes to depart this life. I was reading recently that there are thousands of old people, secreted away in their own little flats, and who sometimes go up to two months without seeing anybody to talk to.The same newspaper article also indicated that many old people, both residents of their own flat/house or an Old Folk's Home, rarely receive visits from their sons and daughters.

All of this just appears to give credence to the notion that people are too busy with their own lives to either notice or care about the lives of others, even their own family, friends and neighbours. At 20 we worry what others think of us, at 40 we don't care and it is only when we hit 75 and over that we learn that they don't think of us at all!

On the other hand, I also know of a number of very independent individuals, whom despite being elderly and living alone, actually like their own company and their way of life; although I'd have to admit that it is much fewer in number than those who crave company. Being a person who has always visited some elderly person who lives alone for most of my life, I recall George, an 86 year old widower who lived next door but one to me in Mirfield. Until he was well into his 85th year, George could be seen walking to the Coop every day to get his shopping. He was an immensely proud and independent man who would never allow anyone to do for him, anything he could do himself. He always refused offers to have someone else carry his shopping bag when filled, and instantly refused 'meals on wheels' when I once suggested the service to him. Even though I made a point of knocking on his door daily to check he was okay, until his 86th year, and then, only after he'd had a stroke, would he allow me inside his home.

For most of his older years, George shunned offers of help from younger neighbours; like one would a wet blanket on one's bed. He once got very annoyed with me after I offered to do something for him and said, 'I'm not losing my marbles, you know. Let me tell you, Mr Forde, if I burn down the house or stab a neighbour, it won't be because I'm going senile; it will be because I mean it!' In essence George had discovered that the secret of contented old age was to make peace with solitude and to be happy with one's own company.

When George entered his 86th year, he sadly started to go senile and it was when he started to lose his wits that he allowed me to enter his house and help him. Within a year, George was admitted into an Old Folk's Home and three months after admission, he died. I only managed to see him twice in his Old Folk's Home, and in truth, he never knew I had visited, but it made me feel better for going.

After George died, I read somewhere about another old man who had visited his wife as regular as clockwork after she'd been taken into an Old Folk's Home, despite it taking up most of his afternoon in preparing for the visit, bringing her some of her favourite chocolates and travelling there and back. His 86 year old wife had dementia and had been in her Nursing Home for 14 years. The couple had been married for sixty two years, yet each time he visited her in the home, she failed to recognise him and would even speak to him occasionally as though he was her brother or another person.When asked why he still visited a woman who'd lost her memory and had long since forgotten who he was, he replied, 'Because I haven't forgotten who she was or what she means to me!'

Being in love with the same partner for over sixty years must be one of the most wonderful experiences a couple could ever know. If I was ever able to play God, I would arrange for each couple who have loved a lifetime, to die within seconds of each other, and never to feel the pangs of separation of spousal loss.

I will end upon a thought which has always amused me and which I suspect holds the secret of how one lives their life. I have often wondered how old I would be if I didn't know how old I was?" William Forde: August 22nd, 2016.