Life is a wonderful phantasmagoria of happenings and whimsical memories, a kaleidoscope of the past relived as if it was yesterday. The current four year reinvolvement of the world football event where teams from all nation’s try to put a ball in between two upright white posts, reminds me of a memory, which is nothing like twenty two men in colourful kit chasing around a green pitch, but of a two year old, very bright little girl who has doting grandparents. We tried to teach her the fun of playing juvenile golf on a bright summer’s day beside a Gite we had hired in France with the family.
We were showing her that you had to hit the ball with a hockey stick and the idea was for the ball to go into the hole. After a few tries when the ball went anywhere but where it should go, without success she threw the stick down, picked up the ball and put the ball in the hole. Clapped her hands saying something like, ‘there you are Nanny and Grandad and marched back to the house.’ She has gone on to be a very successful woman with her own family.
I think I had probably the same sort of feeling when wearing short trousers at the time, and not just for the game; it was the going style for young boys, when the school tried to teach me the wonders of football. At first, they thought I would be good in mid field and as I was hopeless at that they put me in as goalkeeper. We lost badly.
In my mind, at the time, to try and kick this heavy football made of strong leather with a rubber bladder inside, which you had to blow up, was not the easiest of tasks, and as each time I kicked it, it did not go in the direction I wanted it to and it hurt my foot. I was envious of others who had football boots on as I only had a pair of flimsy plimsolls, another envy as how did they have them, war time, as any form of foot wear was on ration.
What a great idea and it would be to put a new slant on the game, if they played like our youngster played golf. If the ball, instead of it being kicked around by a crowd of men, someone was nominated to pick it up and put it into and between the goal post. The games would then be over that much quicker and all the souls who are not in love with the current spectacle could have their television programmes back in their scheduled place, as they were able to resume their own comforts.
I have mentioned in the past the human body’s ability to self heal, and of course this is not always possible, and I refer to the recent story of a five month old child whose organs had not developed correctly and he could not move his head as his muscles had not grown because of the deformity.
Science came to the rescue and whilst the illness is very rare and unusual, it is a well known fault in a child’s development. At a cost of 1.5 million pounds the NHS came up with the money for one injection and the child was healed. That in itself is new, as a few years ago that would not have happened because of the cost, as being too expensive for a single drug.
There is of course a need for medical practices, however I am a firm believer in the capability to self healing and whilst that is not possible for a five month old child to achieve, as one grows older there is, in my view, that ability.
It was with that belief I became interested in a well written and researched book ´Heal Yourself´ by Sarah Dawkins RN, who has been studying the history of people who have achieved this, and she tells their story on its pages. It is a good read and an eye opener to the body’s ability with the right mindset. It will be published shortly.
It is possible to be deceived by your own thoughts. There is the true story of a wealthy woman staying in an exclusive hotel. For most of the day someone in an adjoining room was playing a piano, and she was upset with the disturbance finding it difficult to cope with the continuer’s sound. Eventually she calls the management who arrives in her room and she explains that she cannot think or rest because of it.
The Manager explains that the person playing the piano is very famous and names him, and then clarifies he is practising for his grand performance that evening. She instantly recognizes the star and feels embarrassed, she dismisses the manager and settles down to enjoy the tinkling music. The power of the mind changes her natural annoyance to one of pleasure.
Perhaps I should remember that story the next time that football is shown on television!!!
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