"The Emperor Has No Clothes" by James Bauer

"The Emperor Has No Clothes"

by James Bauer

https://beirresistible.com/

Rules for dating. In case the story is not common where you live, the expression “The emperor has no clothes” is from Hans Christian Anderson’s fable The Emperor’s New Clothes, published in 1837. It was one of my favourite childhood stories (at least the Mickey Mouse Version with pictures was).

Anderson’s story reveals the foolishness of a vain king who was preoccupied with his status and appearance. A pair of swindlers took advantage of the king’s character weakness by explaining they could weave a fine cloth that could only be seen by people who were fit to be royalty (or people who were fit for office).

The king paid a high price to have a suit of clothes made from this wonderful fabric, so he could test which of his courtiers was unfit for office. When he couldn’t see the imaginary clothes the swindlers made for him, he pretended he could see them to avoid the appearance of being unfit for office himself. As he paraded the new clothes through the streets, the onlookers all pretended they could see the clothes, trying to avoid being the only one to reveal their unworthy status.

A young child, who didn’t see the point of pretending, announced, “But he has nothing on!” That burst the bubble and people began laughing, revealing they did not see any clothes either. The king was too vain to admit his error, continuing the procession as he attempted to maintain his dignity by pretending nothing was wrong.

It’s not at all uncommon for men and women to ask me about various “rules of dating.” They want to know the proper etiquette for various unique situations. They hesitate to talk openly with their partner because of a fear of revealing their ignorance regarding “the rules of dating.”

Are there any rules of dating?

rules for dating. I could tell you my personal rules for dating, but they’re unlikely to be the same as yours. There are still cultural groups with clear patterns and expectations regarding the courting process, but those traditions are quickly fading as television and the Internet reveal the multitude of different ways of doing things, cross-pollinating ideas across different cultures.

These days, you should be far more concerned about openly discussing your expectations for dating, and far less concerned with figuring out “the rules” of everyone else. Here are a few reasons why:

As soon as you figure out what the rules of dating are, your boyfriend does something to violate those rules, and you realize he doesn’t know them. Trusting that he had the same set of rules as you ends up causing friction.

He may be too embarrassed to admit he cannot see the emperor’s clothes (or dating rules), so he feigns confidence, all the while sweating under the collar as he tries to guess what you are expecting next. By discussing your mutual expectations, you both have a better chance at working toward a mutually satisfying relationship.

Some men try to make rules that are convenient to them, and inconvenient to you, taking the role of the swindler. This kind of guy hopes you are too afraid to admit you don’t know “the rules,” so your keep quiet and let him bully you around.

You can help a guy to opt out quickly (and avoid wasting your time) if he has expectations for dating that would be incompatible with yours. Remember, that’s not failure. When you screen out someone who’s not right for you, you’re making way for the kind of man who is right for you.

The next time you feel unsure of “the rules,” play the part of the kid. Talk openly about the fact that people have different expectations. Admit you’re not sure what he’s expecting in a given situation or circumstance. Tell him your preference, and ask him about his. This is the beginning of a healthy negotiation process for two equal partners who want to treat each other with dignity and respect.

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"A KING, A FARMER AND A DONKEY"

"A KING, A FARMER AND A DONKEY"
(author unknown)

Once upon a time, there was a king who decided to go fishing. Before setting off, he called the royal weather forecaster and asked for the weather prediction for the next few hours. The forecaster confidently assured the king that there was no chance of rain in the coming days.

Trusting the weatherman's expertise, the king and his wife, the queen, set out for their fishing trip. On their way, they encountered a farmer riding a donkey. The farmer, noticing the royal couple, respectfully warned, "Your Majesty, you should head back to the palace immediately. I predict that a heavy downpour is about to fall in this area."

The king, though polite, dismissed the farmer's warning with a smile. "I hold my palace meteorologist in high regard," he said. "He is highly educated and experienced, and I pay him handsomely for his services. He assured me that there would be no rain, so I trust his forecast and will continue on my way."

Ignoring the farmer's advice, the king and queen continued on their journey. But soon, the skies opened up, and a torrential rain began to pour. The king and queen were drenched, and their entourage couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of them, soaked and humiliated.

Furious, the king returned to the palace and immediately fired the royal meteorologist. He then summoned the farmer and offered him the prestigious and well-paying position of royal forecaster.

The farmer, surprised, replied, "Your Majesty, I don't know anything about weather forecasting. I simply observe my donkey. When his ears droop, it’s a sure sign that rain is on the way."

Amused by the farmer’s simplicity, the king decided to hire the donkey instead.

And so began the practice of appointing "dumb asses" to hold important positions in the government—an unfortunate tradition that, it seems, continues to this day.

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"THE JAR" by Becky Hemsley

"THE JAR"
by Becky Hemsley

There was a little dreamer

Who, from just the age of three

Spent all his time imagining

What he could do and be

He wanted to invent things

Give the world something brand new

He wanted to change lives

Even if he only changed a few

His wild imagination

Was like a jar without a lid

And they nurtured and encouraged it

Whilst he was still a kid

But as he grew and his dreams

Showed no signs that they would slow

They tried to tame them, rein them in

And screw the jar lid closed

They told him he should think

More realistically instead

Yet, almost everything that’s real

Was once thought up in someone’s head

If everyone stopped dreaming

We’d be stuck right where we are

But they tell us that, as adults

We must live inside the jar

So he parked his dreams up in the clouds

Said he’d return some day

But his dreams grew all redundant

As his life got in the way

Yes, the dreamer stopped his dreaming

And they were all left wondering why

Well, they said the sky’s the limit

Then put a ceiling on the sky

*******

Becky Hemsley 2020

https://www.facebook.com/talkingtothewild

Artwork from Canva

‘The Jar’ is from Talking to the Wild: https://a.co/d/i2AbFVS

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"WHERE'S MY WIFE"

"WHERE'S MY WIFE"
(author unknown)

The other day, I was out grocery shopping at my local supermarket around 6:30 pm when an older man turned a corner into the pasta aisle and put his hands on my shoulder. I jumped up. My first instinct was to get angry and ask him to please not touch me. Then I noticed something. The man was crying. He looked distraught and confused.

Suddenly, he asked, ‘Do you know where my wife is? I’ve been looking for her.’ I told him I didn’t know and suggested maybe he ask the store front for help finding her. I was thinking maybe he lost her in the aisles. Hasn’t everyone lost someone this way? I was wrong.

He proceeded to ask, ‘Where is my wife? She was right here.’ Tears welled up in his eyes. I told him once again that I was not sure and gestured to walk with him to the customer service counter where they could use the overhead speaker service to make an announcement for her. He obliged.

There, the woman asked for a name. He looked to me in confusion, as if I had the answer for him. The woman half rolled her eyes and turned to me. ‘Miss. Do you have THE NAME?’ I explained he was a stranger and I had no other information than she did. ‘Is this a joke?’ she asked. By then, it became really clear to me that this man was very confused. Not just regular confused, but Alzheimer's confused. Having had a grandpa with this condition, I knew it all too well.

I took him to the food court and we sat down. He was now shaking and crying softly. ‘Where is my love?’ I held his hands and I asked him if he had a cell phone. My heart was breaking for him. He said he wasn’t sure, so I asked if I could search his pockets. He obliged. I was careful. In it, I found a small flippy phone. I searched through his contacts and found one that read ‘Daughter Krissy.’ I immediately called her. She answers in seconds.

Hello?’ she said, her voice already sounding frantic. I explained that I was with an older man who I assumed was her father. That we were at the supermarket on Lane St and he was very distraught and upset.

‘On my way, ‘she said. ‘Can you make sure he doesn’t wander off?’ She continued, ‘Thank you, thank you. I’m coming.’

For 20-something minutes, I sat with a crying stranger. I held his hands. I wiped his tears. When he shivered, I layed my jacket down in his lap. I gave him answers he needed to hear in the moment. I kept him from trailing off. Because that’s the least I could have done.

Suddenly, in walks this tall young woman who looked about 28 or 29. Long black hair and green eyes. We locked eyes and she came rushing over. ‘Thank you. THANK YOU,’ she said. ‘I had to leave for just an hour, and this happens. I knew I shouldn’t have left him. I’m SO sorry.’ She explained that he sometimes runs off and looks for his wife. That he lost her 13 years ago, but he never stops trying.

She proceeded to help him out of his chair and thanked me once again. On their way out, I heard him say once more, ‘Where is my wife?’ My heart hurt, but I was so happy to see him with his family again. I share this not only because this man touched my heart, but to say this:

The majority of this world are strangers to you. I know that. But never forget that we all share this world together, and in it we can share kindness. That is the only thing that can keep us going. If you see something, do something. You never know how big your impact can be on someone else’s life.

I don’t care that the shopping cart I accidentally left in the pasta aisle during the frenzy of this situation was unloaded and put away. That I had to re-find everything. I don’t care that I ate dinner a little later that night. That I went home and cried my eyes out in the kitchen for this sweet, poor man. Kindness costs nothing

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"BAGGAGE" by Becky Hemsley

"BAGGAGE"
by Becky Hemsley

She opens up her suitcase

And it’s loaded to the brim

She simply doesn’t have the room

To squeeze more baggage in

Her hold-all’s filled with years and years

Of things she has endured

But you think she has no hold-all

‘Cause she acts so self-assured

But just because she’s confident

And acts like she’s alright

It doesn’t mean her baggage

Is inconsequentially light

For though her life looks rosy

It doesn’t mean to say

That she doesn’t carry burdens

That weigh her down each day

She’s fought off many monsters

Often swam up from the depths

She’s walked through many fires

And pulled herself back from the edge

So never think she walks on air

When she’s actually walked through hell

You just don’t know her load is heavy

Because she carries it so well

******

This poem got removed last time I posted it, because I said 'thank you' to too many people in the comments and Facebook thought I was spam. So we'll try again!

Becky Hemsley 2021 https://www.facebook.com/talkingtothewild

Beautiful artwork by Maryna Shefer

Baggage is from Talking to the Wild https://a.co/d/57xLeCX

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"Waltz with Grief" by Ann Marie

"Waltz with Grief" by Ann Marie

A waltz with grief, a solemn dance,

One step forward, lost in chance.

Two steps back, a silent sway,

In the shadows, hearts delay.

The rhythm shifts, a gentle pull,

Grief’s embrace, both sharp and dull.

Ebb and flow, like ocean tides,

In this dance, no place to hide.

Twirl in sorrow, dip in pain,

But rise again, though tears remain.

Grief and I, we waltz in time,

A haunting dance, a mournful rhyme.

Yet through this dance, a strength is found,

In every step, though lost, we’re bound.

One step forward, hearts entwined,

In the waltz of grief, we learn to find.

The notes of loss, a bittersweet tune,

Played beneath a ghostly moon.

In every turn, the past replays,

But forward still, despite delays.

A dance with grief, a partner cold,

Yet in its arms, the heart grows bold.

For in the sway, the rise, the fall,

We learn to live, to bear it all.

The music slows, but never stills,

It ebbs and flows, against our wills.

Yet in this dance, we find our way,

Through night’s dark, toward the day.

So waltz with grief, and let it lead,

In every step, plant healing’s seed.

For though the dance is steeped in pain,

With each new step, we rise again.

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"THE HARLEY BIKER & THE LION"

"THE HARLEY BIKER & THE LION"
(author unknown)

A Harley Biker is riding by the zoo in Washington, DC when he sees a little girl leaning into the lion's cage. Suddenly, the lion grabs her by the collar of her jacket and tries to pull her inside to slaughter her, under the eyes of her screaming parents. The biker jumps off his Harley, runs to the cage and hits the lion square on the nose with a powerful punch. Whimpering from the pain the lion jumps back letting go of the girl, and the biker brings the girl to her terrified parents, who thank him endlessly. A reporter has watched the whole event.

The reporter addressing the Harley rider says, “Sir, this was the most gallant and bravest thing I've seen a man do in my whole life.”

The Harley rider replies, “Why, it was nothing, really. The lion was behind bars. I just saw this little kid in danger, and acted as I felt right.”

The reporter says, “Well, I'll make sure this won't go unnoticed. I'm a journalist, you know, and tomorrow's paper will have this story on the front page. So, what do you do for a living, and what political affiliation do you have?”

The biker replies "I'm a U.S. Marine, a Republican and I’m voting for Trump."

The journalist leaves.

The following morning the biker buys the paper to see if it indeed brings news of his actions, and reads, on the front page:

“U.S. MARINE ASSAULTS AFRICAN IMMIGRANT & STEALS HIS LUNCH”

And THAT pretty much sums up the media's approach to the news these days!

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