A Sensitivity to Things

Although I continue to argue that I’m not in blogging for the publicity, that I write neither for attention or notoriety, like shouting to the entire world from a mountain-top, appearances can be deceiving. Friends have, irreverently, been calling me “Johnno Bloggo” for a while…

2k Bloggers, a.k.a. “The Face of the Blogosphere,” is holding a contest to admit two bloggers to their exclusive, gold plated ranks; a place in their directory and photo-montage the publicly stated, much desired prize. The price of admission? This very blog post, and the fulfilling of three simple conditions:

1. a pre-existing blog (preferably since before January 2007);
2. a post containing on your blog explaining why you’d like to become a member;
3. submit a comment on their site containing a link to this post and your photo.

Simple terms to fulfill you would think, but too hard for many; to date less than 10 have managed to meet the entry criteria. The contest is open for approximately another week, or until they receive 20 valid entries—which ever comes first.

What is the 2k Blogger’s photo montage? It is the very idea behind their site—a visual representation of the blogosphere itself, 2000 photos of actual bloggers stretched many lengths of a computer monitor, like a giant, memorial quilt. It’s a cool idea really—I for one have ranted lyrical, and on not just occasion about the faceless anonymity of the internet, the thousands of monkeys typing with barely an original word, far too many a grunt between them. Consider myself corrected. Here are 2000 typists, and not a single monkey sighted.

Why do I want to become a member, add my photo to the typing pool? When not writing about myself, I do on occasion highlight worthy causes and ideals (What value the environment?, Born Off-Topic, Aversion to Violence) causes which surely deserve the added exposure that, to repeat, I really do not crave.

Wish me luck—and good luck yourself if you choose to enter.

You’ve lifted heads of state, celebrities, community leaders, athletes and musicians overhead—physically. What on earth would you lift next? How about the world’s tallest horse? And the world’s smallest. Within the space of a single month.

For 75 year old New York based weight-lifter, humanitarian and world harmony leader Sri Chinmoy, the journey from smallest to tallest was a perhaps predictable giant leap—or lift—forward, in a lifetime full of them; he has made a practise, art form even of lifting people, unusual objects and animals overhead; a novel, inspiring twist to the normally mundane activity of raising weights into the air.

Officially recognised by Guinness Records, 9 year old Radar is a Belgian Draft Horse taller than any other—a towering 2 metres at the withers (shoulders), and at 1152kg, as heavy as a small car (airbags not included). On June 29th, together with handler Charles Wood, Radar grew even taller, lifted by Sri Chinmoy on a specially constructed, perhaps not correctly titled, calf-raise apparatus—a remarkable total of 1345kg lifted by steely septuagenarian calves above grass and meadow.

At only 25kg and 44.5cm tall, chestnut mare Thumbelina is barely the weight of a toy car, and about the size of an average dog, but she is a record holder as well—a dwarf miniature horse officially the world’s smallest. No mere mare, Thumbelina is more important than diminutive stature suggests—namesake and inspiration for the Thumbelina Children’s Society, raising money and awareness for children in need around the world. On May 31st, Sri Chinmoy raised Thumbelina, together with owner Michael Goessling and handler Tago De Pietro, on a specially constructed, seated calf-raise machine—their combined weight a not insignificant 257kg.

Founder of the global The Oneness-Heart-Tears and Smiles humanitarian organisation, Sri Chinmoy awarded the tiny horse the Lifting Up the World With a Oneness-Heart award in recognition of her tireless strides to aid children. The award, where recipients are honoured by being physically lifted overhead by this weightlifting and fitness advocate, has previously been given to 8,000 people. And now one very small horse.

The quite possibly tireless Sri Chinmoy also lifted 58 white wind horses in Mongolia this May, a display of strength intended to draw attention to the plight of an endangered species also a national symbol of inner strength and spirit.

Putting the unbelievable into take another look perspective, five-time Mr Universe Bill Pearl said recently of Sri Chinmoy and his mammoth animal lifts, “no one else in the world has been known to sustain such an enormous weight on his shoulders in a calf raise. And the man is 75 years old!”

Jennifer of Goodness Graciousness, a long time reader and worthy author in her own right, has tagged me in the Six Weird Things meme.

Only six? Even just a short list, you know I could never refuse…

Actually I prefer her word for weird things—idiosyncrasies. Nobody likes to be called a weirdo.

1. Although relatively new to driving, I rant and rave through windscreen and windows closed at the rest of the world, which in my opinion appears filled with bad drivers. Drivers who drive too slow, drivers who cause you to miss the green light, drivers who change lanes without indicating, who can’t drive in a straight line, don’t know how to give way—I’m teaching them all how to drive, one by ignorant one. I’ve heard many people do this, but in my case evil, darkened glares, flashed headlights and occasional use of horn very much amuse my friends. I have a reputation for being polite and considerate.
2. I’m not particularly good at saying no, although as my available time disappears in amounts inversely proportionate to my age, I’m fast learning. It’s taken a while to work out that few can read between the lines when I say yes, yet slowly and unenthusiastically. “That’s your cue to withdraw people!”
3. I don’t appreciate people who can’t stick to a point or keep on topic in conversation, or even worse interrupt without consideration or pretense of listening. I’ve taken recently to interrupting such people, finishing their sentences for them. Life is just to short to wander without end or direction. And I really am a polite person. On a topic related, I used to once talk to telemarketers when they cold-called, politely answer their questions, take part in polls. Once. Now, although not as bad as a friend whose favourite line is “Mr. Smith no longer lives here. In fact he’s dead,” I seldom let them get to the end of their opening lines. Politely.
4. I am bad with names. I have no idea why, but I can recall a face, a job, things spoken and actions before I recall the name. Perhaps I was dropped as a child? Apparently my mother gave up smoking after I was born.
5. I’m not very good at ignoring barbs or insults. I probably take myself too seriously. I’m slowly getting better. Credit is certainly due to the positive benefits of meditation—inner strength and detachment included.
6. As a child I would sometimes play chicken with adults on footpaths. Out of some stubborn, hard-headed irritation at people too unaware of others to give way, I would walk them all down, staring into their eye. I have to stop myself from doing this even now.

I’m sure I have many other idiosyncrasies, but strangely they are not coming to mind. Perhaps I am blind to them—a very common idiosyncrasy indeed.

Anybody reading is more than welcome to post a list in response.