The Athenians erected a large statue to Æsop, and placed him, though a slave, on a lasting pedestal; to show, that the way to honour lies open indifferently to all.
Apollonius of Tyana, a 1st-century CE philosopher, is recorded as having said about Aesop:
… like those who dine well off the plainest dishes, he made use of humble incidents to teach great truths
As part of my campaign to withdraw from prescription and non-prescription drugs I have connected with a local massage therapist. Preliminary to my first appointment I was asked to complete a questionnaire which included global questions about my level of stress, health and happiness. I hadn’t any trouble answering any one of the questions. The happiness enquiry was for me the easiest and the least difficult to assess on a scale of 1 – 10 (0 is severe depression and 10 is extremely happy). I picked 9 but only because I figured choosing 10 might make me seem absurd; I mean we all have to have at least some unhappiness.
Given the largely unencumbered life I now lead, today was by comparison reminiscent of a normal business day when I was working. Although I hadn’t anything scheduled until 11:30 o’clock this morning, I nonetheless trimmed my customary morning leisure since I thought it possible that my dentist might call for an earlier appointment and I wanted to be ready to go on short notice. As it turned out my dentist will see me three days hence.
I’m guessing you’ve heard the expression, “Right under your nose!” Who hasn’t? Quaint little articulation, “Right under your nose!” We’ve all heard it before and probably as commonly have dismissed it as trenchant as an old pocket watch suspended under a glass dome. Well, I’m telling you there’s something to it, it’s not just a quip. Everything you’ve been looking for is right under your nose and you don’t even know it! And here’s the thing, I have the proof because that’s precisely what happened today!
When the financial advisor telephoned this morning to review instructions with me, we both chimed simultaneously what a gorgeous day it was! The temperature had dropped almost ten degrees from yesterday’s high of 32℃; the sun was shining brilliantly and there was a refreshing though boisterous north wind tousling the leafy heads of the trees. I had planned to take the day off from bicycling to give my aching frame a rest but that intention quickly evaporated. As soon as I had completed my business with the advisor, we departed for our routine cycle along Country Street to the Rae Road, down Ramsay Concession VIII to the Town Hall then home.
It has been said that we are the last person to know ourself. Apparently our judgement is clouded. I do however have what I believe are some fairly accurate details about certain of my characteristics. In particular I know that I abhor personal conflict and that my instinctive reaction to it is first, anger; and second, flight. Allow me to explain.
“It was a neat little mansion, and every thing about it seemed, as Nancy said, in such grand apple-pie order, that it gave Rosella a strong idea of that extreme attention to cleanliness and form, which usually excludes ease and rest.”
Rosella, or Modern Occurrences, 1799, by Mary Charlton
If asked whether it were possible or desirable to put anything in perfect order – assuming the question were taken at all seriously – the inquiry would commonly elicit a hearty guffaw or a dismissive wave of the hand! The meticulous pursuit of orderliness, though for some of the herd a solemn and sempiternal agitation, inspires philosophical condescension from pragmatists who regard the contemplation of rigid absolutes with their nose well in the air. The ideal of perfection may besides trigger disapproval from the groundlings who caste it as superlative and showy, even an insufferable expression of elitism.
Though it reverberates as a small compliment, my disfavour towards certain people happily continues to thrive. For too long I have stunted the growth of this relieving and rewarding enterprise on the basis of false notions, among them that everyone deserves to be treated well even if I am inclined to think otherwise; or that it is my own stubbornness or inadequacy which promotes such enmity; or that life will always be fraught with acrimony and it does no one any good to cultivate it. I am overthrowing that namby-pamby gibberish. Instead I intend to capitalize upon the privilege of curmudgeonly behaviour afforded relics such as myself. No longer will I be bamboozled! I have decided to side-step annoying people and to avoid them whenever possible.
Many factors combined today to make for a perfectly splendid summer day! The broad outline of my day was a trip to Manotick to meet with my Hair Architect (Warren), then a pleasant visit to my mother at her retirement residence, followed by a late afternoon bicycle ride and the exceeding pleasure of the fine weather and blossoming lilac bushes.
“For now, feeling as though my own brain were unhinged or as if the shock had come which must end in its undoing, I turn to my diary for repose. The habit of entering accurately must help to soothe me.”
Excerpt From: Bram Stoker. “Dracula.”
The distinct moment I began to write a diary is hardened upon my memory. I was fourteen years of age in Fourth Form at boarding school, St. Andrew’s College in Aurora, Ontario. My parents and only sibling were several thousands of miles away in Stockholm, Sweden where my father had been commissioned as Attaché to the Canadian Embassy. As Her Majesty had earlier that summer generously paid to ship our entire family from Montréal, Quebec to Le Havre, France by first class service on the S.S. Arcadia I did not return home for Christmas that year but instead visited my maternal grandparents in Northeastern Ontario in the small, remote Town of Mattawa at the confluence of the Mattawa and Ottawa Rivers.