Dealing with Time

Sonia Kelly

As time progresses - especially as it relates to one’s body - it seems to me that as the flesh deteriorates it behoves us to make greater efforts to sustain it. Very few people seem to realise exactly what sustenance is needed to promote health, and, even stranger, very few care to make the effort to find out, let alone pursue a course of improvement.

When I started to have eye problems recently, I realised that I had not strictly adhered to the principles I had established myself some 30 years ago in the Cloona Health Centre. Naturally diet figured largely in the programme, and the importance of eating raw and fresh fruit and vegetables was certainly stressed.

In those early days, though, the ill results of preservatives, pesticides and over-cooking, resulting in the production of dead, if not actually poisonous, food, were not completely understood. Luckily for me (and, of course, countless others!), however, some members of my family have the same desire to make the nation healthy. Thus, I have been supplied with a machine for extracting the juice from uncooked fruit and vegetables, thereby painlessly supplying all the vitamins and minerals required for rejuvenation.

The clothes one decides to wear have another profound influence on the process of rejuvenation. This became very evident to me lately after acquiring two berets. Previously I had never worn any kind of a hat, under the belief that they made me look even more hideous than usual. Then, lo and behold, I got presents of a black one and then a red one, and my life changed for ever.

The black one immediately solved the problem of what to wear at a forthcoming family wedding, as the moment I put it on I became transformed into the sveltest kind of duchess, and as for the red one…on its début outing, in conjunction with a red scarf and a green jumper, on which was pinned a tiny red rose (which came in the post to remind me of the importance of some saint, or other), it caused a sensation. ‘Beautiful’, ‘fantastic’ and ‘dashing’ were some of the comments I received, making it quite clear that the beret is imbued with some magic quality.

And actually that was just what I needed to offset a hair-do, which had turned out to be disturbingly bouffant and made me feel like a mother. “OK, OK,” I can hear you saying, “So what, you are a mother.” But the kind of mother I felt like was the one whom her children take out to lunch on Mother’s Day.  In the red beret, however, I felt like dancing on whatever table was available. And, for sure, no one would have been surprised to witness it!

While dressing didn’t figure in the original health programme, helpful thinking did, and I’ve just realised that “Does it really matter?” is an extremely helpful question to ask oneself on many occasions, particularly when time is of the essence and should not be wasted in regrets. Trivial incidents can often give rise to annoyance or frustration, and we foolishly indulge these feelings without asking the vital question. I mean, of what ultimate importance is it if you miss a phone call, say, or if someone interrupts your preparations for dinner?

If your favourite pet has died, why be sad? The animal is better off and would die sometime, anyway. lf you have been abused at some stage and were not physically maimed, why should it still matter? Many people, surely, have far greater horrors to contend with. And even if the planet is heading towards a Big Bang - does it really matter? We know it’s happened before. But do those previous bangs matter to us? I don’t think so. So who will the next one matter to?

Just don’t worry...