Winter

When my daughter was very young, I used to love walking her to nursery in the mornings.
She would ask dozens of questions, and I would point out different plants and birds and so forth, getting her to see more, notice more, and know that she’s not isolated from nature, but a part of it.

One day she asked me why trees shed their leaves in Autumn, so I started to explain how the tree is getting ready for the winter by detoxifying itself – it pulls all the goodness out of the leaf – the chlorophyll, the nutrients etc, and then it will push all the unwanted waste back into the leaf before allowing it to fall to the floor – where it recycles back into the soil.

I explained that to a tree, a year is like a day for humans.  In the spring the tree wakes up, and gets dressed, in the summer it enjoys the day, filling up on all the goodness the sun, rain and Earth can provide it, and in the autumn it starts to get ready for bed, shedding its clothing ready for a sleep over winter.

The more I ponder this simple analogy, the more I see how we could follow the same process – we wake in the morning, and get ourselves ready for the day ahead – we should be the most productive in the earlier stages of the day, putting in most of the effort while we are still energised.  As the day goes on, we should produce our fruit (the fruits of our labours) and as evening draws forth, think about detoxifying our bodies, cleansing ourselves ready for a good night’s sleep.

We could extend this to the week, the month and the year – maintaining a clear focus on our habits, allowing our bodies to follow the natural processes, allow ourselves time to detoxify ourselves, and bring our “self” back into harmony with the seasons.

Time is a relative construct – seconds, minutes and hours are a fabrication – but the revolution of the planet, and it’s journey around the sun are very real, and our bodies, once fully in tune with these cycles, have become out of synch.  We rush about, plugged in – receiving our rhythm from our technology, out-of-touch with the subtle vibrations of the Earth.

As I was driving home from work yesterday, having spent the day in front of the computer;  talking to people on the telephone, fixing their IT problems, delivering customer service.  My mind was on updating Facebook, checking Twitter, text Mum.  I could feel myself gripping the steering wheel tighter as the cars in front of me braked, my body tensing as I checked the rear-view mirror to see if the vehicle behind was also slowing down, had also seen the hazard.  I became aware that I wasn’t fully aware – I was distracted.  I felt very uncomfortable because I realised I had driven a few miles without noticing I’d done so.

I brought my attention back to the present, and noticed up ahead, a shaft of sunlight fell across the road – as I drove through it I smiled, realising that it was the only patch of sunshine I had seen that day – and I was very glad I hadn’t missed it. 

It made me think about how little attention we pay to our surroundings, how much we take nature for granted.  When we step outside, do we notice the birdsong? Do we smell the scent of the damp earth, the fallen leaves, or see the “crispness” of the light on a cold winter morning?

This year my resolution is going to be to bring myself back in tune with my surroundings.  I am going to eat carefully what by body craves rather than grabbing food on-the-go.  I am going to go to bed when I’m tired, not when the TV programme I’m watching is finished.  I am going to get outside more, walk more, leave my smartphone at home more.  

I’m going to reconnect, and allow this precious planet of ours to recharge me.  By the time we get to Spring, I will be ready for the renewal! Happy New Year!!

How do you view the World?

How do you view your world?

Do you pay any attention to the extras in the movie of your life, or are you fixated on the main characters? In my day-to-day, I try to notice other people - even if I only acknowledge they're there. I will hold the door open for a stranger, offer someone my seat, help someone with their bags or let them out of a junction onto a busy road.
In return, I will get a smile, a thank you, a wave - and I have made a tiny connection with another human being that has a bit-part in my personal production.

It's all too easy to become so wrapped up in our own world that we forget everyone else out there is also going through the same day as us with their own burdens, fears, ills and worries - or, if they're lucky, their joys, good luck, celebrations and freedoms.

We share this world with 7 billion other people, all going about their business much the same as us. Growing, learning, grieving, fighting, cheering, loving, eating, sleeping, nurturing, cursing, struggling, living, dying. They are happy, sad, desperate, elated, afraid, confident, amazed, persecuted, ignored, cultured, ignorant, arrogant, humble, loved, despised, feared, cherished.

I try to notice the people in my constantly shifting frame of vision. I try to notice the sky, the fields as I drive to work, the other motorists, (I see people in their cars as they pass me, staring fixedly ahead on their way to their jobs, meetings or liaisons - and they're oblivious of my presence.)

Mad as it might seem - I say good morning to the magpies that always seem to be on the grass outside my home. I smile at people as they walk their dogs, and say hello to the dogs as well. I pick up litter in my street or off my neighbour's lawn.

I try to take some time to care about others, and I do so without thought of any reward. Being me is reward enough - and every day I give thanks to whatever I perceive God to be, for letting me have another day on this beautiful, wonderful, awesome world of ours.

no plus ones

Pain, Age and the Great Leveller

Intriguing title?  I hope so!
I want you to read on, but not just to satisfy my inner need to entertain, but also to pass on a simple truth.
What?  I hear you ask.  What do you want to teach me today?
Well...

The simple truth I want to pass on...

is...

I'm clumsy.
No.

Well, I am.  I mean, I really am clumsy - it's my middle name.  I wanted something cool, like Cool, or Awesome, but they were already taken.  So I ended up as Collywobs Clumsy Pearson.

The reason for this post, by the way, isn't just to introduce myself.  It's to explain how I got that name. 

I went climbing today.  Indoor climbing, huge walls, more challenge than my usual wall climbing experiences.  And I took my 11 year old daughter - not to impress her with my skills and prowess, because frankly I have none.  No, because I would like her to love climbing as much as I do.

So, we arrive at DartRock climbing centre, and I am faced with several wonderful walls of climbing heaven!

But, first we're lead to the Boulder Rooms - areas of low level free climbing to warm up.

I was no higher than my daughter, pictured above, when I miss my grip, fall off the wall, and slam my arm into the knobbly hand holds on the way down, and land badly on my wrist!  

Pain!  On a scale of 1 to 10, where 10 feels like I have bones poking out of my forearm, I'm an 11,  No word of a lie, I think something is broken!  I'm lead away upstairs to ice packs and slight humiliation, while my instructor feels guilty and my daughter is just happy we won't be climbing after all!

Happy to report though, that several hours later, some strapping and as many pain meds as I'm allowed to take in one day, I am typing this with little discomfort.

As a 53 year old, overweight male though, I have to ask myself - what was I thinking?  I know I could climb some of those, but the session was 90 minutes, and I probably would have lasted 30.  I know I love climbing, but I think I'm forgetting I'm not 20 any more.  I'm not as lithe and supple as I was back then!  Am I deluding myself?  When I approach these walls, do I have a mental image of myself like...

When in truth it's...

Sad, but true!

I either need to get myself into shape, or give up the notion of being a rock god.  Luckily the only person I am trying to prove anything to, is myself!

Rock On!

Feeling Down (in the dumps)

I remembered something the other day that I had long forgotten, something I used to do to make me feel better whenever I felt down in the dumps, out-of-sorts, a bit fed up. 

You know those days when you get up and spend an hour thinking you should do something, but everything you think of isn’t what you want to do?  You open a book, and put it down again.  You pick up your journal, but the pen hovers above the page and no inspiration comes.  You switch on the TV and flick through a hundred channels – each one as unsatisfying as the last.

Those days you just can’t seem to buck up.

I remembered that on days like those, I’d clean and re-arrange my bedroom.

I would move anything small enough to move out of the room, and I would shift the rest into one side of the room while I cleaned, dusted and vacuumed the other.  Then I would move everything over and do the other half.  Then when the room was clean, I’d move my bed so it was facing a different way, in a different place.  The other furniture would be shifted to somewhere new, or differently aligned, and eventually, the room would be finished and my mood would be elevated.

The new alignment of the room always made me feel better when I went to sleep – excited, in a way – because it was new.  Sometimes I would imagine I was now on a strange ship, sailing into the unknown, or like Robinson Crusoe, in my desert island cave.  And when I woke in the morning I would feel fresher than the day before, more energised. Re-motivated.

Proponents of Feng Shui would say I’d stirred up the energy flow in the room, and I think they’re right.  The stagnation I felt before is gone.  The room feels different, and so do I. Invigorated. New.
My energy seems to flow differently too.

I extended the practice to other rooms in the house – mostly the living room – changing the position of the sofa, the TV, the book cases and so on, and it would work there too. 

So, when I woke the other day feeling listless and unmotivated, I found myself (without even knowing why) cleaning the kitchen sink and draining board.  This progressed to the work surfaces and the oven door.  I emptied the bin, which took me to the garage, where I saw much that could be tidied and rearranged.  And so passed two hours.  I returned to the house feeling much happier, with more energy and a brighter outlook on life.  I think we become so in-tune with our surroundings that we can stagnate in the sameness of an unchanged room, so my advice would be – when you feel listless, stagnant, down-in-the-dumps, discombobulated and out-of-sorts, change something!

Rearrange a room, sort out a closet or wardrobe, clean the bathroom from top to bottom, declutter the garage or shed.  Get the energy flowing again!  

Making a cheese sandwich.

I handed my daughter a cheese sandwich the other day, and as I did so, I wondered about how it was made.  I took two slices of bread, spread butter on one side of each, sliced some cheese and put it on one of the buttered sides, and placed the other piece of bread butter side down on top.

 Job done.

But that was just my part of creating that cheese sandwich.  I still had three unanswered questions. 
Where did the bread come from?  Where did the butter come from? And where did the cheese come from?  The bread came from the supermarket, but how did it get there? By lorry, driven by Arthur, taken off the lorry by Bert and stacked on the shelf by Carl.  

But who loaded it onto the lorry?  Where was it stored before then? How did it get there?  So, we have a logistics aspect to the bread – how it moves from A to B.

Where was the bread made?  What recipe was used?  Who supplied the yeast? The salt? The water?  So we also have a multitude of other ingredients to consider, as well as their various logistics.

But ignoring all those for now, let’s concentrate on the flour that was used – where was it milled? Who milled it?  Who made the packet it’s stored in?  Who grew the grain?  

So now we have two more fundamental occupations to consider. The miller and the farmer.  Both of these people play an essential role in our bread production.  

Focussing on the farmer – did he plow his field?  With a tractor?  Who made the tractor?  Who sold it to him?  Who maintains it?  So that gives us equipment.  

Who made the lorries, the fork-lift trucks, the components of each, the tyres, engine oil, glass. Who refined the fuel?  Who drilled for the oil and where?  Who built the oven?  Who supplied the gas and electricity?  How was the electricity produced?  

The incredibly complex structure of each piece of machinery is mind-boggling, without even considering how the individual components of each machine are also produced, supplied, shipped and so on, down to where the iron ore is mined for the steel, how is it smelted and so on.

Ignoring all that, let’s go back to the farmer.  Where did he buy the grain?  Who grew it? So now you are approaching the origin of the bread – but in actual fact, you’re just entering a loop.  Where did the grain come from that grew the wheat that made the grain?  It wouldn’t be an infinite regression, but it would look at first glance like one.

How many people, then, have been involved in making our two humble slices of bread?  How many machines have been involved?  How much fuel has been consumed in its production? How many miles between growing the wheat and the bread in the supermarket?

Two slices of bread!

Now, the butter…

My daughter took the sandwich, took a big bite and with mouth full of food, mumbled “thanks Dad!” before walking off to her room to watch TV, while I stood in the kitchen, my head spinning from the hundreds, thousands of interactions and associations that occurred before those two little words.

The Damp Squib

A few months ago I decided to venture into a massive online presence, the purpose of which was to build a greater awareness for this blog.  Why?  Because (like millions of other people out there) I thought I had something worth listening to, something worth reading.

Was I jealous of teenage girl blogs that seem to have 10,000 followers?  Maybe.  Unlikely though.

I asked myself the other day - who am I writing for?  And the answer is - anyone willing to read it.  I'd love to be able to influence the world - change opinions, make it a better place by writing about the destructive nature of bullying, how we should all recycle, and how my one wish would be for an end to hatred and intolerance.

I decided then that pouring time and effort and money into promoting my words is a waste of time.
Why?  Well, my website (designed specifically to draw people into and around my social sites) has had 8 visitors in total.  Eight!  So links added to blog posts asking for visitors have achieved nothing.

My subscription to Blogarama promoted the site well, and my posts went from 10 or 12 views, to thousands - but despite getting almost 3,000 views, my last post got one +1 and no comments.
To me, it's never been about getting views or building a following - it has always been about interaction - building relationships, commenting on something, feeding back to someone, touching another life somewhere on the planet.

My expanded online presence has not worked.
Oh well, back to the drawing board!

Are We Lost?

I asked myself this question during the drive to work today.
No, I didn’t mean lost as in geographically, I mean spiritually and mentally.

I was thinking about how our ancestors lived.  Their lives seemed more structured than ours.  They rose at a certain time, ate breakfast – probably the same thing every day, and left for their work – a factory maybe, or clerking in a bank or solicitors, or on a ship, or in a warehouse, or a shop.

They would work their long day with only a little break for something to eat, and take they pay home in a small brown envelope at the end of the week.  The money would be divided up into tins – rent, food, whatever.  Once home, they would prepare a meal, discuss something – local politics, the church, school, work.  They would read a book, or sew.  They would go to bed early.

Their lives had a structure to them, and were not complicated.  It seems they knew their purpose in life.  They knew the career they were going to follow because their fathers and mothers followed that path.  They would apprentice and learn a skill, and they would employ that skill. 

If they needed to know something outside of their close circle of experience they would go to a library to research it, and questions would be asked – “why are you interested in that?  To what purpose?”  To seek more knowledge than was necessary in your day-to-day was considered a waste of time, because your time was so structured.  Your life had a clearly defined purpose.  It was what your parents did, and their parents, and those before.

Today I see us as being disparate, scattered and lost.  We no longer seem to have structure or purpose.  I get up at different times of the day, depending on what hours I’m working, or where I will be working from today.  I can eat a different breakfast every day for a week or a month, and never repeat the same meal twice.

I travel to work (or work from home), but can take time off if I feel like it.  I can stay home sick without fear of losing my job.  I can watch TV – hundreds of different channels.  I do not have tins to keep my money in.  My money is invisible – digital.  Bills paid electronically.  I no longer need to save for something – I can just buy whatever I want because my invisible money is no longer constrained by what I earn.

I no longer need a reason to find out something new.  I don’t need to go to the library.  I have a small device in my pocket that can tell me anything I want to know.  I can book a flight to almost anywhere in the world, travel there, find my way to a location via GPS or SatNav and communicate with people that do not speak my language using my smartphone.

I no longer need my mother or grandmother to teach me to cook or sew or iron – because YouTube can show me.  I no longer need to apprentice to learn a skill.  Higher education – which was once the domain of the wealthy or titled, is now open to all – and a degree, once the epitome of excellence, is now the norm.

We have expanded out of that tiny close-knit world of our ancestors so far, we no longer bear any resemblance to it.  Their values, ethics and morals have been stretched thin in our rapid expansion.  We do not respect our elders because they have nothing to teach us or give us – we no longer need their advice when Google has all the answers. 

I think we have lost our way, and I am greatly saddened by it.  I have taught my daughter to cook and sew (as my mother taught me), and I talk to her of the old ways, of the values we shun in favour of mass-produced homogeny. The ethics we’ve lost in an age of do-what-you-will, and the friendship-bonds stretched thin by Facebook and Instagram, because it takes no effort to poke or click like or share.

We are too thin – we lack any real depth.  We have become selfish in our desire for everything now!
Our pursuit of bigger, better, faster and newer now crowds out our desire for sympathy, empathy and understanding of others.  I pass people in the street and say hello and I smile.  I hold the door open for strangers.  I pick up fallen toys for children.  I talk to people’s dogs.  I clean up litter from my neighbour’s front lawn.  I offer to help complete strangers with their heavy bags.

I am trying to pull myself back in – I am trying to remember where I was before I became lost – and my smartphone can’t help me with that one!

Thank you for reading my thought on an ever-changing World!

You might also like some of the stuff on my website

https://collywobspearson.wixsite.com/mysite

Am I living my life on auto-pilot?

When I was a kid, all I could think of was all the cool things I'd get to do when I was a grown up.
I couldn't wait for the freedom to choose for myself!

When I left primary school and moved up into secondary school, all I could envisage was studying the sciences, history, mathematics - and emulate my heroes - Leonardo, Galileo, Copernicus, Kepler and Einstein - discover something new, exciting, World-wowing!

Off to polytechnic then with dreams greatness in academia - I'd get my degree in chemistry and physics, become a great home office pathologist like Dr keith Simpson, or Sir Bernard Spillsbury - and I'd solve the unsolvable, and bring the killer to justice.

But something around this point changed.  I failed my degree because I didn't put the effort in.  I'd lost my way.  I got a job making pizzas - and thought maybe I could join the police.  I applied about 5 times and failed each time - I started working as a civilian answering 999 calls, and began the lazy drift from one day to the next.  I no longer had any purpose.  I had under-achieved myself to mediocrity and that was where I was going to stay.  I put my life onto autopilot.

Ten years passed and I was exactly the same - no real prospects, no additional skills, nothing to look forward to, no purpose.  I bought a small one bedroom flat, and continued to drift.  Autopilot was doing just fine, thank you.

I had a blip though - made a decision and flipped autopilot off whilst I changed course.  I moved to Exeter and began working for Devon and Cornwall police taking 999 calls.  I got a promotion, extra responsibility, met a girl, got married.  Had a daughter, changed jobs and started working in IT for the NHS.

But I realise today, I've somehow snuck back onto autopilot again.  I don't ever remember flicking that switch, but it definitely got flicked!  I've been doing this job for about 13 years now, and I'm at the top of my pay scale and little or no prospects on a promotion.  My daughter is about to go into secondary school, my wife runs her own business - and I'm cruising from one day to the next with no real interaction with the present moment.  I wake up, get up, make tea, clean my teeth, get dressed - same routine every day.  I drive to work, but arrive there without really realising what happened during the 15 minute drive.  I log onto my PC, check emails, check calls, drink coffee, eat at my desk, until it's time to go home.

Another 15 minute autopilot drive home, get changed, sit on the couch, watch TV, make dinner, eat, watch TV, go to bed.  Life on autopilot!

If any of this rings a bell with you, if you see anything familiar in the routine, then, like me, you need to flick that switch and come off autopilot!  I have managed to get to 53 years old, and I can only account for half that time as being lived with meaning and purpose.

Too many of my days are lived in a haze, not paying anything very much attention, losing time, wasting time, achieving nothing - living like it doesn't matter that nothing got done yesterday or the day before because I was busy drifting along as if in a dream.  I'm acting like I have an infinite number of days at my disposal, so wasting half of them isn't a big deal - but you know what?  I don't have an magical supply of days that'll go on forever.  I need to wake up!  I need to pay more attention, and I need to make better use of my time.  So I'm going to rip out autopilot, and I'm getting Mindfulness installed instead.

Buddhist Lesson

This is one of my favourite Buddhist lessons. 

Two Buddhist monks are walking back to the temple one hot, dry day when they come across an old woman beside a raging river.  She is staring at the river, which is clearly barring her way, with a look of total frustration on her face.

The younger of the two monks offers the lady assistance, so she climbs up onto his back, arms about his neck, her small bag of possessions bumping painfully against the monk’s chest as he fought the current to get her across.

On the far back, the old woman climbs down and goes off on her way without saying a word of thanks or any acknowledgment of the monk’s kindness whatsoever.

The young monk remarks to the older one how rude it was of her, how bruised he was from the bag banging against him, how tired his legs were having carried that extra weight, how hot and thirsty the exertion had made him, and so on – all the way back to the temple.  As they get to the gates the older monk, who all this time had kept silent during his companion’s complaints, turned to him and asked, “Are you still carrying that old woman on your back?”

Joke

A dog walks into  a butcher's shop holding a small wicker basket in his mouth.  He puts the basket on the floor and takes out a small piece of paper - on it is a list, 2 pork sausages, half a pork pie, one small lamb chop

The butcher takes the list, put the items into the basket.  The dog takes a small purse from the basket and sets it before the butcher, who opens it.  Inside is a £5.  The butcher gives the dog 60p change.  The dog puts the purse in the basket and off he goes.

Next day the dog comes in again, and the same thing happens.

The day after, the dog comes in again - but this time as the dog leaves with his laden basket, the butcher follows him.  The dog walks off down the street and gets to a busy main road.  He sets the basket down and pushes the pedestrian crossing button.

When the lights turn red he picks up the basket and crosses the road safely.

A few streets later he approaches a house, puts down the basket and standing up on his back legs, pushes his nose against the door bell.

An old man opens the door, sees the dog and starts to berate him.  "Stupid dog!"

The butcher runs up to the man and shouts "Stupid?  Are you kidding??  That's the most amazing dog I have ever seen!"

"Nah, if he was that amazing, he wouldn't keep forgetting his door keys"!

Questions

What mood are you in?
Relaxed, Content

What are you listening to?
System 7 live in Kyoto October 2011

Where are you right now?
Cornwall, UK

What’s on your “must do today” list?
Post the last eBay parcel

What colour would you choose to describe yourself right now?
Orange

What were you thinking about before you started this?
Do I want a pasty for lunch?

What are you planning to do later?
No plans at the moment

What’s the weather like where you are now?
Dry, cloudy, slight breeze, some sun.

Do you have a blog or diary you want to share?
https://www.my-diary.org/edit/?action=viewentry&entryid=545504118

What is filling your mind today?
How do I generate more interest in my writing?

What do you like to do to keep fit and active?
Walk the dog.

Ambition - You can be Anything you WANT!

How many times have you heard someone saying "You can be anything you want to be!" in that syrupy-positive way meant to bring out the best in people?  Does it make you think, "Hell Yeah!" or does it make you cringe?  Well, up until a little while ago I was a Hell Yeaher, but now I'm not so sure.

I think such broad statements are not only a big fat lie, but could be quite damaging too.

When I was a kid at school, we had a careers adviser ask each of us what we wanted to do when we left school.
CA: "Colin, what do you want to do when you leave school?  What do you want to be?"
Me: "A secret agent."
CA: "No, seriously.  What job do you want?"
Me: "I want to be a spy!"
CA: "Er... Let's say you can't be a spy.  What do you want to be instead?"
Me: "An astronaut."
CA: "Who's next?"

I couldn't be a concert pianist or world famous violinist - I don't have any musical aptitude.  When I look at music, I don't understand a word of it.  It might as well be written in Chinese - in fact, it makes about as much sense to me.  I don't have the... what's the word?  The Knack.  Some people look at sheet music and can hear the melody in their heads.  They have the knack.

I couldn't be an Olympic gold medalist - there is nothing I can do that would rank me first in the world.  There will always be someone younger and fitter than me, more determined.  I'm too polite.  "No, after you!  I insist!)

Now I know there are some people out there that'll be thinking "you're giving up on yourself!" or "If you truly believe..."  But I'm just being realistic.  I understand I have limitations, and I'm willing to work with them.  I could be a spy, but I'd be rubbish at it.  They could invite me over for coffee and within 10 minutes of sitting on their beautifully white couch stroking their fluffy white cat, I'd've told them all about myself, my organisation, and where we keep the chocolate digestives.

Instead, I know that I'm pretty good at communicating.  I can make people laugh. I'm honest and reliable, helpful and kind.  I work hard.  My customer care skills are awesome!  I know what I'm good at - Communication and Customer Care - and so I've built my career around those two specific areas and have made a success of it.

I don't think there's much call for customer care on the International Space Station.

Thank you for reading this!  You might like:
http://collywobs.blogspot.co.uk/2015/05/am-i-geek-nerd-or-just-having-mid-life_27.html

Humour

What is humour?  What makes a joke funny?  Why is something funny to one person and not to another?

I don’t know.  I was hoping you’d tell me!

Now some people would have laughed at that.   And some people would have laughed at that too!

I went to see Eddy Izzard live at Shaftesbury Theatre a good few years ago now, and he used a similar technique to get a laugh which relied on a form of self-belittling, self-deprecation, admission of ignorance.  On this occasion the joke was a little off-beat, a little too “out there”, and so he followed it with an observation: “Note to self, remove unfunny comment”, and of course, the audience laughed, so he followed it with. “Note to self, maybe not.” And he got another laugh.

One comedian took this to a higher level by saying he could probably kill someone by timing his jokes in such a way that the audience wouldn’t have time to breathe in in-between laughs.  The audience laughed, and just as the laughter began to taper off, he said “Like this!”, and they started laughing again.  He waited, one finger raised, in silence, until the laughter started to wane.  His facial expression perked up, he raised his finger higher, and said “And this”, and the laughter started all over again. 

This proved to me that humour doesn’t have to be rude or threatening, racist or sexist.  Gone are the days of Mother-in-Law jokes or Irishman, Englishman, Scotsman jokes.  We’ve been told during the 80’s and 90’s that these subjects are taboo – the Political Correctness ideal has made laughing at someone’s gender or religious leanings a no-no, and those that do laugh either feel guilty about it, or revel in their prejudices. 

To me, the funniest humour is that Eddy Izzard/ Billy Connolly type self-observation, anecdotal, slightly humble delivery.  I can relate to it, I understand exactly how they felt.  Any uncomfortableness I feel is sympathetic, empathic – and so I can see the funny side of their experience because they’re laughing about it too.  I don’t poke fun at other people, I poke fun at myself.

For example:  In response to my question about whether a friend had anything planned for the weekend…

Julie : 10:00
Long weekend Monday off with Neil, Pub lunch 

You?

Colin: 10:01

No thanks, I'd just get in the way

Julie : 10:02

Ha that’s funny

And that brings me on to the art of the one liner, or the quick-thinking quip.

I was working in London many years ago, and was enjoying a cigarette break when a colleague stops by my table and asked if he could have a light.  I’ve not smoked for 17 years now, so I’m not sure if they’re still available now, but back then I had a thing for those little, brightly coloured Bic ones, so I passed it over to him.  “Oh, I have a jumper at home this colour!  Or is this a little lighter?”

I think I snorted coffee down my nose.  It also received several groans – which I think is an acknowledgement of funny in some cultures.  (At least I hope so, because most of my best jokes get that response).

Humour seems to be about being in the right place at the right time, and saying the right thing in the right context .  I can’t count how many times I’ve come back from a gig or the Comedy Club and faithfully replayed a set, and all I get back is a blank stare, or a half-hearted chuckle where it should have been 15 minutes of uncontrollable belly laughs.  Humour is objective and subjective, a complex weave of storytelling, dramaticism, timing and expression.  Change a single aspect of it and it’s no longer funny.

Jasper Carrot sums it up nicely with this anecdote.  “What do you put on your passport under occupation when you’re in the stand-up business?  Comedian?  I was stopped at the Security Line at Heathrow, the Customs Officer inspected my  passport, looked at me suspiciously  and said “Tell us a joke then!” “

It was much funnier when he told it.

Snapshot

This was a short story idea I had a decade or so ago, but never got around to writing it.
I think there have been other similar concepts since though - I promise I've not copied anyone's idea as far as I know.

Snapshot

A short story about the diversity of life.

It was during the winter on 1993 that I felt at my worst.  The chemotherapy was making me sick, and the morphine was only just doing it's job.  I was hanging in there, but only just.  Everyone said I was doing just fine, that I was a fighter, that I was going to beat this.  Some days I just couldn't bring myself to believe it. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst - isn't that what they say?

So on a particularly dark day I decided to shake the demons. Under my bed is a shoebox.  I don't know why I keep it, it's filled with stuff I don't want to keep. By the time I pulled it from the clutches of the lost socks and dust bunnies I was exhausted, close to tears, knowing the pain I was feeling now wasn't a patch on what I was going to feel once that lid came off.

Inside the box are the trophies of a happy, healthy past. Cinema ticket - first date. Place card - wedding day.  Boarding card - honeymoon. It's a 13cm by 9cm by 10cm memory prison. These inmates are hard - maximum security, very dangerous, no chance of parole.  Visiting privileges long since revoked.  Keep Out!  Unsafe Structure!

There's one faded photograph I go back to time and time again. Piccadilly Circus, May 1987.

She's sat beneath Eros with our daughter in her arms, both smiling at me in the late Spring sunshine as I stand by the Tube entrance with my camera held to my eye. Whenever I look at that picture all I see is those smiles, those eyes looking at me full of love, and I feel that familiar tearing sensation inside my chest again. It feels like something thick and black is desperate to get out but I'm afraid if it does rip itself free, the avalanche of emotional upheaval will leave me hollow forever more.

This time it's different.

The glossy paper feels heavier, thicker.  The image has more depth.  And for the first time ever I notice other details.  There's a guy on a bicycle with a satchel swerving around a taxi.  A happy couple holding hands as they start to cross the road in the background.  A child with an ice cream skipping into frame - all frozen in time as I pour all my attention into my two girls sat beneath that iconic statue of love.

Something about that ice cream girl draws me in.  I don't remember seeing her on that May day, and yet there she is, immortalised in my photograph for all time.  She looks about 6, so that would make her... what? 12 now?  Did she live in London, or was she a tourist? Was she there with her mum and dad, having a fun day out like we were?  Or was the ice cream a distraction?  Take her attention away from the memory of her mum hooked up to all those machines in the ICU?

I glance away, unable to continue that train of thought, and catch sight of the cyclist.  It's not a satchel, it's a courier bag.  Where's he going in such a hurry? What documents is he carrying in there?   Some vital evidence needed at a high profile court case perhaps?  Legal documents that decide whether someone gains or loses custody? The image has a deep sense of urgency about it.  I hope he got there in time.

The taxi driver's gesticulating out of his window, waving his anger at something unseen, his mouth frozen open mid obscenity. He doesn't look angry though. He looks concerned.  Maybe he's shouting a warning?  I can't quite make out what he's looking at.

The happy couple are holding hands.  She has a wedding ring on her finger, but I don't see one on his.  Are they married, or is this an affair?  Are they heading to an hotel or from one? The smiles are real, but her expression looks a little strained.  Is it guilt?  Fear of being seen in such a public display of affection?  Her free hand is resting on her stomach.  Was she smoothing her dress, soothing an ache, or is the outcome of her liaison already germinating in there?

As I lay the photograph back in the box with more care than I've ever shown it before, I realise that I am not isolated from the world, I am an integral part of it. I am not an individual, detached from everything else, I am a leaf on a tree - connected to all the other leaves by the planet that I live on.

I look one more time at the taxi driver.  I think he was looking at me.

 

Terrorism, Diplomacy and the Importance of Communication.

Before I start writing about this, I do not profess to be an expert on any of this, nor do I claim to be right about these things – I’m just throwing some ideas out there.  I’m hoping it might encourage people to think of different methods to get their point across.  I’m not implying that an act of terrorism or brutality is the same as a child throwing a tantrum – it’s just an analogy.

What is terrorism?  It’s an act, or series of acts, designed to instil terror or fear.

What is the point of terrorism?  To use fear to gain something – but what?  With the IRA attacks it was to bring about opposing British rule in Ireland.

(https://www.thoughtco.com/guide-to-the-irish-republican-army-3209135)

Eventually though, it was negotiation, diplomacy and communication that brought about an end to hostilities and the removal of British troops from Northern Ireland.  A change in the way a government thinks, a compromise, a bit of give and take.

Next up, Brexit – we hear daily about “negotiations” with the EU about what the UK wants as part of its exit deal.  There seems to be an awful lot of demanding and not much agreeing going on. 

Finally, there’s the terrorist attacks by ISIS.  We are suffering these atrocities – but in the name of what?  What do they want to gain by it?  As far as I can tell, no one has actually said what they want to gain.  So, is it terrorism just for the hell of it, or is there something they want?  If the latter, then maybe someone needs to ask the question – “What do you want?” And actually open a discussion with the people organising all this.  Few negotiations are clean – they often involve disagreements, compromises, and base-lines that one side or the other refuses to budge on.  But until we start communicating, nothing is really being achieved – other than senseless killing of innocent people.

When my daughter decided to throw a tantrum in the middle of the supermarket over something she wanted there and then, I didn’t cave into her demands (fear of embarrassment, desire for a quiet life, escape from accusing/disapproving stares) and I didn’t respond with aggression (shouting, smacking, threats of “just wait ‘til I get you home!”  No.  What I did was kneel down in front of her and I said “Let’s pop  outside for a minute” and I took her, kicking and screaming, outside.

There, once the audience was gone, she calmed down a bit.  I quietly explained that I wasn’t going to give in to her tantrums – we could either go back into the store and finish our shopping, or we could go home without anything nice for tea.  We finished our shopping in peace.  When we got home, I praised her for her new behaviour, and said that if she wanted something another time, to ask for it – but if I didn’t think she should have it, I would give her a reason why.  We never had another tantrum.

I don’t believe violence and aggression is a valid way to get what you want.  It’s bullying – something we are all against (unless we’re the bully of course!)  Violence does not build trust and respect.  It doesn’t make people want to listen to your reasons or believe your beliefs – it does the opposite. 

Peaceful negotiation, simple discussion, being open and honest about your needs and wants – being prepared to give some ground here to gain some there – accept compromise where possible and be firm, but polite, on the things you cannot yield.

But what if terrorism is just for the hell of it?  Like the school bully that hurts you just because they like to see you cry? Because it makes them feel in control? I can’t answer that I’m afraid.  When I was bullied, I just put up with it until one day something sparked inside the bully’s head – he looked at me as the tears roll down my cheeks and asked me why I was crying.  I told him that repeatedly thumping me in the arm hurt.  A lot.  And for some reason, this made him stop – just like that.  No more bullying from him again.  Do we just put up with the bombings and driving vehicles into crowds of people, hoping one day that the organisers of these acts see that it’s achieving nothing real in the big scheme of things? 

Will it just, one day, stop?
I hope so – I hope that day is today.  But never once did I think hitting that bully back would do anything other than make him hit me harder and more often.

Writing

I’ve always enjoyed writing – I think because the stories have a way of transporting you from this world to any other.  Stories can draw you in, wrap you in an alternative reality and leave you happy, disturbed, afraid, sentimental.

I have written short stories, a full length sci-fi novel (never published, it was way too awful for that!) and blog posts.  I’ve kept a diary, written long, long letters to friends, and I keep a journal which is a cross between a scrapbook, sketchpad, diary, to do list and photo album. 

When my daughter was born 11 years ago, I started a Word document, and I wrote about everything about her – how I felt, how confused I was when she cried for no apparent reason, how tired I felt, how useless I felt.  I would add a new paragraph or two every day, then every week, then each month, and so it grew.

As she grew I wrote about her first word, her first laugh, her favourite foods, her favourite TV programme, and her favourite toys.  Then about the things that became important to her, school, friendships, sports, talents, aspirations.

I only stopped writing it last year, because she’s began to keep a diary of her own.  She’s old enough to remember her milestone moments herself now.

I love writing.  I love the idea that someone, somewhere, could be reading this and getting a fresh idea for a project of their own – that I might be reaching across countless miles and touching, albeit briefly, another life out there.

When I began this blog, I had the fanciful notion that it would be read all over the world – that I would attract followers keen to read the next insightful, quippy observation.  I dreamed of people leaving me comments, feedback, encouragement – I thought a community would develop and grow.  Sadly nothing of that sort has happened.  I was excited when I saw a post had 22 views.  Now I’m lucky if I get 3! 

So, help me out here, casual visitor to this page – please leave me a comment or two and answer this – is my writing boring?  What is it lacking? Where am I going wrong?   Don’t get me wrong – this isn’t some self-pity plea.  I still want that dream to come true – but as with most things, you need some critique to develop skills past their infancy.    Thank you!

The Turning World

Hello!

It's a chilly May 5th here in Cornwall - we have had a mixture of warm sunny days and windy chill days lately - not quite summer yet, but the promise is just around the corner.
I last wrote this back in February - I was recovering from my radiotherapy then, so my desire to write was quite low.  I am now in remission, slowly getting my voice back to normal, and not quite so tired every day, so here I am!

I have been thinking about how time passes - the turning of the planet - how a day starts, opens up as you pass through it, and closes down at night.  The days become weeks, and for me it's been a pathway - walking along from one test, appointment, consultation, procedure - to the next.  I started the journey over a year ago, and I am finally realising that my path is no longer dictated by these mile markers any more.  Sure I still have appointments, but they're not the centre of the universe any more.

So the weeks and months pass by, each segment filled with tasks completed, new things to do, forms to submit, reviews to attend, and always, always, there's the future to contemplate.  Where will it take me?  What do I need to do now to make the journey easier?  More successful?  What are the likely outcomes?

As I sit here, writing this, I am aware that the world has turned a bit more - another 5 degrees through it's circle of time - another few thousand miles along it's seasonal trip around the Sun, and I am warmed by the knowledge that my life is unfolding as it should.   I am happy.

Getting the Balance Right

Hello!
Where to start?

I want to talk about balance today, not the physical, teetering on a gymnastics beam type balance, but the "getting stuff done vs taking it easy" type.

I mention this because I notice my last post was in August last year! No, I haven't been doing nothing all this time, but I have not been managing my time very well.  I've had days where I have been wall-to-wall busy, and I've had days when I just CBA (Can't Be Arsed).

I found out last September that I was very ill - the sort of ill that needs radiotherapy for 6 weeks, and months of recovery.  I felt physically drained and emotionally wrung out - so some might say I've had a good reason to neglect the blog, but to be honest, I haven't.

It's very easy to let things slide though.  I like to keep busy, I help my wife with the chores, I cook our meals, I help her with her business, I make scale model armoured vehicles, I write a journal daily, do some gardening, and so on.  My days are filled - and yet I've avoided some things like the plague!

I've not written this blog, I have not posted any pictures or updates to my other military model making blog, I have not updated or maintained the two websites I made for local business friends.  It's like my heart just isn't in it - and yet these things have just as much importance, if not more, as checking Facebook, or looking at Pinterest.

It's all about time management really, and having effective To Do lists. Making sure the small details are not forgotten, and taking the time to get the balance right.

So, the next time I'm flicking through the myriad of Sky channels bemoaning the fact that there's nothing worth watching on TV, I shall be popping by here to share another thought or two with you!

Balance - maybe it is a physical thing after all?

You might also like:
http://collywobs.blogspot.co.uk/2017/05/the-turning-world.html