Well, I’m not overstating by saying that the last week was a roller coaster of chaos. In one way or another, all of it has been (or has at least ended up) the sort of positive chaos that I like because there has been plenty of learning outcomes.

Last week started with one of my daughter’s putting my old PC to sleep instead of shutting it down. It literally did go to sleep and refused to wake up no matter what commands (verbal or otherwise) were sent. To shorten a long story, I disconnected several crucial internal cables while the machine was running, thoroughly confused it and reconnected. Please don’t upset any techies by retelling this story but, normal service resumed.

Now I can re-open the dusty files that I talked about a couple of weeks ago and I will post one in a new feature starting tomorrow, 6th September 2017. If you missed it, I talked about those files that we all have such as story starters that didn’t see the light of a readers eyes.

Image result for image of a dusty computer file

Fragments from your imagination that you saved for a rainy day or had even forgotten about. You know the sort of things I am talking about. Like the ball point pens in Hitchhikers Guide to The Galaxy. . .

“Somewhere in the cosmos, he said, along with all the planets inhabited by humanoids, reptiloids, fishoids, walking treeoids and superintelligent shades of the color blue, there was also a planet entirely given over to ballpoint life forms. And it was to this planet that unattended ballpoints would make their way, slipping away quietly through wormholes in space to a world where they knew they could enjoy a uniquely ballpointoid lifestyle, responding to highly ballpoint-oriented stimuli, and generally leading the ballpoint equivalent of the good life.”

I discovered some of my own lost files in a folder containing copies of files from a very ancient version of Windows and written in Rich Text Format. Like ballpoint pens, they too had slipped away through a  wormhole where they enjoyed a vitual world of peace and tranquility until I spotted the unmistakable trail of half-recognised filenames and forced them out into the light.

Who knows, one of these files may have what it takes to be the next best seller, blockbuster movie or stage show (one of mine is a theatrical script) and a great way to put them to the test is to let you decide. So taking a deep breath, I will do that tomorrow.

Your own dusty files are very welcome. Send them over (if you can find the wormhole) and I will be pleased to add them to the next edition of Dusty Files.

Twitter users out there will probably be aware of the #MotovationMonday, Tuesday . . hash tag and have seen some of the great posts. There are so many wonderful thoughts out there in cyberspace (another wormhole) that I thought I would capture some, add a few of my own and create a Facebook photo album. So, there it is. I will be updating it every day and as usual, you are very welcome to add some of your own.

That was one of the positives that came out of the confusing week of chaos, reminding me of a quote a group of us developed in university social psychology lectures many years ago and probably over-used; “Confusion can be creative.” The main body of the quote is out of context here but it is thought provoking . . .

Dogmatism denies development; Confusion can be creative.

I won’t bore you with the rest of the chaos. Suffice to say, it all ended well and particularly well for our eldest son who started a Sports Management degree course today at Montpelier University. Very positive for him to be following his dreams, sad for us because there is a gap in our daily lives. But that reminds me of Kalil Gibran in The Prophet . . .

“Your children are not your children.
They are sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you.
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the make upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness.
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He also loves the bow that is stable.”

Wishing you all Namasté and Peace, Love and Happiness