Flights of Fancy

I was just talking to a friend about what our plans are for the weekend.  As it’s likely to be warm and sunny we both agreed gardening and barbecue would be the likely outcome – but we know our plans could change.  The weather might break, relatives might descend upon us unexpectedly.  Who knows?

So then we got to talking about popular TV shows, where the family in an inner city in the UK decide to sell up and move abroad, a place in the sun, living the dream.  What are they hoping to do when they get there?  Well, we’ll buy a couple of bikes and do them up, and cycle to the village and buy some bread and cheese, and we’ll hang out in the local tavern and drink rustic local wines and everything will be lovely.

That, my friend, is a flight of fancy.  It’s what we’d like to think we’d do – but if you’ve ever read “A Year in Provence” by Peter Mayle, you’ll soon realise reality can be a rather rude changer of plans.

What will likely happen is this:  You buy two bikes, do them up to about 50% of what you’d like, but your language barrier means most of the bits you need cannot be bought.  You’ll cycle to the village, but it’s further than you thought, and the speeding locals come dangerously close, and by the time you arrive you’re too exhausted and dirty to want to shop.  You’ll bowl up at the local tavern but the locals distrust strangers – especially those from the UK with their dirty clothing and half renovated bikes.  You cannot understand a word they’re saying, and the wine tastes dreadful because they give you the cheap nasty stuff.

6 months later you realise your pension doesn’t convert well to Euros, and you’re still paying UK tax, so you have to find work.  Your dreams of that little small holding, growing your own fruit and veg, a few chickens becomes a nightmare as you struggle to find enough hours in the day.  The garden looks more like a jungle, you’re still struggling with the language, and the barn you were hoping to convert into a holiday let has had its planning permission denied for the third and final time.  The local mayor no longer answers your calls, and even the bread and cheese has lost its charm.

That inner city life no longer seems so stressful.  At least most of the locals understood you, and the shops in the high street had what you needed, and you had a steady income – even if you were doing a job you were bored with.  “This is your Captain speaking!  FancyFlight 236 from UK will be losing altitude shortly and you may encounter some turbulence.  Please fasten your seatbelts and return all seat backs and trays to an upright position!”

But don’t lose heart.  All change is difficult to start with, and the greatest rewards often follow the bleakest of struggles.  So, when the unexpected relatives turn up, hand them a trowel and pop another couple of sausages on the Barbie – it’ll all work out in the end!

Synchronicity – can it be explained?

The other night I had a vivid dream in which I was going to a party in Africa, and as we trundled along the dusty road we were passed by the actor Terry Thomas.  The other occupants of our truck were trying to recall his name… “Ah, that’s Terry… er, Terry…” So I answered “Duke.  Terry Duke”

Everyone agreed with me, and we went on happily.  We did not encounter Terry again – a cameo, a walk-on part in my imaginary scene.

I won’t bore you further with the dream because the rest of it is immaterial.  What’s important was the name.  Terry Duke.

The next morning I was struck by the name, because as soon as I woke up, I thought “Not Duke, Thomas – he was Terry Thomas!”  But out of curiosity I Googled Terry Duke, and discovered he wrote a book called The Goddess of Wisdom and Me. (Among others).  I downloaded the eBook that very morning and started to read it, and I must say I was hooked – his style of writing and subject content is right up my street!  It struck a chord, resonated in a way that has made me think more deeply about the world I live in, and what might be hidden behind the scenes of what I can see, hear and touch.

So where did his name come from?
I appreciate there’re a million little things that go apparently unnoticed during the day to day that our subconscious retains and spews out in our dreams seemingly at random – and therefore I know it’s stupid to emphatically deny I ever saw anything to do with Terry Duke before the dream – but I swear it’s true!

I can normally identify the various links, themes, concepts, images and such in my dreams – this was sufficiently obtuse to make me wonder why.

And as I sat in the rain swept supermarket car park this morning (waiting for the doors to open at 8am) I watched people driving to work, isolated in their metallic cocoons.  They all seemed oblivious to everything and everyone around them - seeing the other vehicles only enough to avoid collision, but not really aware of the occupants or their lives.  I was struck by how blind we all are; how asleep we are while we are awake, and I wondered whether we can ever truly wake up?

Thank you, Terry Duke, for popping by – It was nice to meet you.

Addendum - It's now May 4th and having read about 65% of the book The Goddess of Wisdom and Me, I must say it veers away from the relationship between a human and a God into a graphically detailed description of what the protagonist would do to "evil" people if he had godlike powers - it all becomes a bit self aggrandisement after a while, so I skipped about 20% to see if it would improve, and it doesn't.  Not sure how Mr Duke got into my head, but I'm showing this particular novel of his the door.  I'm now looking at his 2nd book - The Roswell General Store.

Why do you write?

I was originally going to title this post why do I write, but soon changed it because I want to engage you, invite you into this as a discussion, rather than me monologue at you.

Now I know that you're not really going to respond to my questions, so it's going to end up as a monologue anyway, but I really do want to interact - and that word there, interact, is the crux of why I write.

In real life, I talk a lot.  But not often.  No.  I don't "interact" very much at all, because I don't think I'm all that interesting and I get the impression people would rather be doing something else.  I get interrupted a lot. I... Hold on. Bullet points would be better here!

1. I assume I'm boring because:
   a) people I'm talking to let other people interrupt me.
   b) they talk over me as if what I'm saying is unimportant.
   c) they're not listening anyway.
   
2. I can't make "small talk". I'm not really bothered where you bought your margarine, or how much your shoes cost.  I'm not concerned if your 8 year old son is playing netball this weekend.  I want to know why you don't see in five dimensions.  I want to hear your ghost stories.  I want to know where your atoms were before you were born.
   
3. When I speak, it's because I have something to add to a conversation or topic. Not because I need to fill silence and not because I want people to notice me.  If I wanted people to notice me, I'd dye my hair pink - but that would be bad. Very bad... because people would notice me. (For the wrong reasons!)

Whoa! - do you see what happened there??  I started off wanting to talk about me, changed it to talking about you (to be polite, and engage you) but immediately shifted back to talking about me!  How crass!  Sorry.  Where were we?

Oh yes - why do you write? What do you gain from committing your thoughts and inner quandaries to the public domain, the global forum?  Is it some form of catharsis?  Is it like a Catholic priest's confessional? Oh, wow!  Are you some Orator - like Socrates?  Or a Diarist - like Pepys??

What do you want to achieve?  Do you want people to read your words for entertainment? Do you want to inform? Do you want to make the World a better place?  Persuade someone through your clever use of argument to change their opinion? 

Maybe you're not a writer - maybe you prefer to read?  OK - in that case this post is only tenuously linked to you, but you could just substitute write for read, and carry on...

The most important question though, is, Why Are You Here? Are you looking for inspiration? Guidance?

Idle Curiosity? Did you search key-words in Google and click on my link or did you click Next... somewhere and end up here by mistake?  Are you searching for blogging enlightenment?  Are you looking for some inner wisdom?  Did you wake up this morning and think "Hang on a sec... Where DID the iron in my blood come from?"

(I can sort of answer that last one, but it'd have to be another time)

Why, why, WHY do you write?  Do you want to know why I write?  Because of this.  Because you - YOU, whoever you are, wherever you are, are right here... HERE... now.  I have touched your life for the (in the Universe's time-frame) briefest moment, and I have connected with you.  Two human beings coming together for a moment.  That is awesome, don't you think?  I have written something, and you are reading it right this moment!  You could be on the other side of the world in 2018, or on Mars Colony in 2156.  You are  listening to me speaking to you, and I am so happy because of this.  So very happy.

Why do I write?  Because I want to connect.  I just want to reach out and touch another person's mind, albeit briefly, and be there - just for a moment, and for that moment, be alive in their mind. I want to help them think, just for a fraction, about who they are, how they connect with other people - and if, as a result, they send someone a letter, or a text, or an email, and connect - then my writing has done what I hope it would do - inspire someone else to write.

So. Why do you write?

Why we never grow old

Today I want to broach the subject of why we never grow old.
"But that's rubbish Collywobs!  Of course we grow old."
Well, we do, but also we don't.

Our bodies age, sure - but tell me, what age are you in your head?  I bet you are somewhere between a late teenager and about 30.  My physical age is 53, but I still feel 30 ish.  I dream I can run and climb and parkour like I could when I was that age, and my physical appearance in my dreams is of that age.

I never dream that I am grey haired, over-weight and getting on in years.  That is only my physical body.
So while, biologically, my system is deteriorating, mentally I am a youth.

I know there are some pretty nasty illnesses out there that can rob us of this faculty, and I hope that one day we find a cure for them - because I believe nothing robs us of our dignity more, than losing our identity, memory and sense of self.  But as we age, I find it fascinating that our mental age never really changes beyond the age of 30 ish.  Why is that?

Science would say that we develop, mentally, in stages of 7 years - that the first 7 years we develop motor skills, speech and reasoning and so on.  From 7 to 14 we develop social skills, a sense of our own identity, and an idea of who we want to be.

From 14 to 21 we start to wonder where we fit in with the world, what do we want to do with our lives?  What career?  We discover the rest of the world and sometimes want to explore it.  We develop our sense of sexuality and understand our developing emotions.  And 21 to 28?  Well, by the time we get to 28, hopefully we're about where we want to be, with the person we want to be with, doing what we think we were born to do.

Now I know this is all very general and loose and glib, but I think once we reach this stage, our mind stops "growing".  That's not to say we don't develop our cognitive skills any more, or improve at all - but I think our mental clock that ticks our life away stops about then - it's almost like we've accelerated from nought to 28, and then we cruise.  I don't think we age (mentally) from then on.

So why is that?  I think it's a survival mechanism - similar to pushing through pain and not giving up.  If we allow ourselves to start dwelling on getting old, I think we would start expecting to feel old, and with that would come a sense of dread - Old Father Time and the Grim Reaper checking their schedule to pencil you in.  Instead, I think we remain young in our heads to keep us believing in a form of immortality, extending our own life expectancy, warding off the onset of old age. 

What do you think?

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!