Our last supper. (If Jesus were around now, I'm sure he'd approve.)
I was thinking of doing a retrospective of this year; as I did last year. If I have time before I head away for NYE; I'll do it. After sitting here for ten seconds, thinking back; it's been an roller-coaster. This sums it up nicely.
All of the thoughts we waste
Under the weight of the world
All of the time we spend
with the weight of the world
Don't miss you ways
Don't miss your leaving
Love live my pain
Long live my feelings
Blind and childish
I won't fight it
Here I hide
Underneath my innocence
Grow, Grow
All of the lies we bent
Under the weight of the world
Caught beaten by the edge
Of the weight of the world
Long live this pain
Long live this feeling
Don't need to change
Need to believe in
Blind and childish
I won't fight it
Here I hide
Underneath my innocence Grow, Grow
Here I hide...
Blind and childish
I won't fight it
Here I hide
Underneath my innocence
Grow, Grow
Sunday, 23 December 2012
in·sight
/ˈinˌsīt/
Noun
The capacity to gain an accurate and deep intuitive understanding of a person or thing.
An understanding of this kind: "new insights into the behavior of whales".
From the moon
Mani sees us all
with both eyes
he expects to see everything
so nothing is unexpected
But, what can he predict?
Time, tide and
the uncertainty of mankind.
We roll dice
play with numbers
trick our confidence
toss coins
hedge our bets
and fix our odds
Embrace that whether we
understand it or not
that whatever the gamble
whatever prize
however much risk
the universe will be
perfectly ordered
Blessed be those who
let the whirling wheel turn
to embrace
and occupy a space in time
delicately treading between
air, water, fire and earth
with promises
suspended
hang in the air
waiting to be plucked from
the harvest of life
Wonderful gifts may not
be wrapped as you expect
so cast away idle hopes
empty shadows
walk forth into the
sea with arms open wide
and bathe in the light
of the Oak Moon
Having starting to once again get the train to and from work in the past week; I have had the pleasurable experience of having the time to get through a few short stories. The first is a book given to me by a friend; E.M. Forster's The Machine Stops which contains The Machine Stops story but also The Celestial Omnibus.
The Machine Stops is a chilling tale written in 1909 foreseeing the move towards a society devoid and fearful of human interaction, where the "Machine" is omnipresent and there is a total disconnection from nature. It's interesting to see how much closer our society has come to this bleak way of life than was being experienced just over 100 years ago. Thankfully we're not quite there yet. We're much closer to Huxley's Brave New World's apathetic masses than the automated and joyous existence of Forster's vision. Don't forget to take your soma.
The Celestial Omnibus is the antithesis of The Machine Stops. A charming tale of a young boy's willingness to not accept what is expected of him and seek adventure despite the consequences. It's fantastical description of unexplored lands delivered in such a short stroke is a masterful act.
Although I've still got about thirty pages to go; All My Friends Are Superheroes by Andrew Kaufman has hit me squarely between the eyes. A wonderfully witty and insightful way of describing the intricacies of human nature, individualism, the differences between us and what draws us together. Buy it. Read it. Pass it on.
After starting this book five or six months ago on a beautiful train trip to Sweden, I have finally finished The One Hundred Year Old Man Who Climbed Out Of The Window And Disappeared. Allan's nonchalant attitude towards life and everything that it throws at him is admirable. The way in which his life's story is told in parallel with his window climbing escapades keeps you flicking the pages and you can't help but chuckle at the sheer (entirely believable) ridiculousness of it all. Read it with an open mind and you'll love it.
Whilst on our travels, I read Paul Theroux's The Great Train Bazaar. Somehow he has helped me understand my Dad's slight-obsession with trains and all things train related, without actually stepping on a train whilst I was reading it. Theroux describes how train travel is like no other way of getting from one place to another. A car demands input, attention and concentration. An aeroplane is sterile, faceless and impersonal. Whilst on a train you can interact with your environment and fellow passengers or simply sleep. Train travel gives you choices and I can see how whilst traveling through a variety of countries, this can have a certain magic and majesty. Despite being a grumpy traveler, the frequent hints of adventure throughout his four month voyage make for entertaining reading. I'll be picking up something of his again, hopefully on another adventure.
Aside of my recent literary choices; life's good. I am hugely missing Koh Tao and being under the sea. I've worked out that it's a mere £3,000 and three months of my life spent in a tropical paradise to get from my current Advanced level to that of an Instructor... Where's my piggy bank? Fortunately my flat has now gone on the market and there has been a lot of interested despite me not being available to show anyone around. I've got my eye on a nice little place in Caversham which I hope I will be able to Let out if I decide to bugger off for a few months, or years..
Listened to this about ten times this week.. "You are creating all the bubbles at play.."
Hugely looking forward to next Friday's Yule celebration at the Ankerwycke Yew. I'm in the process of writing something to read during the event. I've got sense of nervous anticipation about the whole situation, but I know I'm going to be surrounded by kind hearted people. And I'll probably will have had a skinful of mead by the time I come to read; Dutch courage.
whip-crack metal on metal
resonate cold pressed
equalised ear drums
pinched noses
jaws clenched
heads tilted towards the surface
swirling bubbles buoy our bodies
offsetting contracted lungs
as we hover delicately
new language signals make for
slow comprehension
no lost translation
forefinger meeting thumb
making a peaceful circle
rocky hands of concern
slashed throat setting off
learnt skills demanded
redressing the calm
whilst striking through the head
declaring the holy grail
the king of the sea
descent darker into an
ink blot scape
slivers of silver flash
thousands of tiny souls
moving as one broad connection
creation carpets mountainous
installations as life beyond recognition
plays out in Earth's inner space
wide eyes periscoped
busting craned necks scanning
that thin line of trust between
your buddy's next breath
and inherent inquisition
at odds
then at one
with the water
currents waving goodbye to
blue bottomed boats
grabbing hold of taught lines
breaching the plateaued surface
gracefully grabbing shifting steps
wishing waiting wanting
for the next plunge
Eight thousand three hundred and seventy four point eight miles
behind waking expectations
my slated mind would be
scrubbed clean of the sand
dropping through her hourglass
figuring calculations under bamboo
breaking waves breathing stuttering
hillsides gasping beneath neon
planes flying low clipping wings
scarred arenite pulling faces
thrill seeking pleasure miners
drilling deep down to an unrighteous utopia
Finally. She's going. Last week, my irritating lodger handed in her notice and will be leaving on the 1 December. Her absent mindedness, selfish attitude, irritating personality and inconsiderate behaviour have mounted up to make her the worst lodger I've had by a country mile. I like to think that I see the best in people, try to ignore their foibles and accept them for who they are, but this idiot has just pushed, pushed and pushed her luck. Sadly, she won't ever change and her slutty male-attention-seeking demeanour is only going to make her sadder as she grows older. Good riddance.
After about ten months of faffing, my flat will be going on the market the day I step off the plane back onto English soil. (Don't want to think about that moment at all right now as I'm enjoying the anticipation of leaving for so much unknown adventure.) A debate has raging as to whether to not buy anywhere else and bugger off on a UN Volunteering mission. It's something I've always wanted to do and now is as good as a time as any. The stability of owning my own home, job, car, pension, blah, blah, blah.. has it's attraction to so many people. Even doing what I do for a career hasn't provided me the peace I expected. It's less about the job, more about the comfortable rut that I've dug myself into. I am mindful that trying to change my environment to match up to an expectation about personal satisfaction or contentment isn't the right way to go about things. However, the "necessities" of living a happy life seem to only be slowly draining away my patience. The next fortnight will be a good time to take on some perspective, carry on listening the encouraging words I've been hearing and perhaps get closer to some understanding.
This has been on the soundtrack to the past week. (Apparently I missed her at Reading Festival this summer and I'm "so uncool" not to know who she is... This was said whilst I was being forced to watch the X-Factor. I rest my case.)
Sadly, one of my relatives has been given a twenty one month prison sentence. It wasn't unexpected, however it has still been a great shock to my Granddad and Mum, who frankly, don't need the stress. It won't be the first time visiting a relative in prison, but it will be the first time I'll be in a position to be able to try to support them; hopefully with brighter prospects and some hope.
A more pleasurable recent experience was visiting the Ankerwycke Yew on the invitation of a member of the Ankerwycke Coven for the celebration of Sanhaim ("so-aim"). Thirty or so of the most friendly, loving, interested people gathered in a misty dark woods near to Runnymede. Wearing cloaks underneath a two-thousand year old yew tree and invoking the spirits of earth, wind, fire and water caught my attention. The group guided meditation through the thin wall into the spirit world firmly cemented my interest, but sharing home made cakes and a few chalices of Mead made me want to stay. The only way to describe it is magical. Paganism (in all of it's various guises) has lit a flame inside; it feels so visceral and tangible as a belief system. The lack of culturally negative doctrine and acceptance of (practically) any interpretation on their ideology sets it apart from most religions I've come across. I've been asked to write a poem for their Yule celebration in December, so, I'm going to read, learn and try to understand before I set pen to paper.
A slightly more hazy night was once again spent in the Milk Bar. This time, rum was consumed, but in the form of their spectacularly chaos inducing "Milk Bottle" cocktails. You got it. Pints of rum cocktail. Fill in the dots.
Having the night off from doing anything tonight has been a soothing opportunity to reflect on the past week or so. Life is good, but I'm mindful of getting caught up in events and getting swept away in the tide again. If I don't have time to write again in the next week; I'll see you in December for some Elbow fun, Grenville Hall and the blasted countdown to Christmas.
Haven't had much chance to catch up with anything much this week. 65 hours of work and I'll be heading in this afternoon for some more. The weather has taken hold over the past week and it's had a shocking effect. Less said the better.
We did make it to Poet's Cafe last Friday and I read my spider poem. If I thought nerves caught up with me, a girl, about 19/20 years old read a piece likening life to the gold rush pan-handling "experience" at Lego Land with such pace and veracity I thought she might implode. She couldn't get off of the stage quickly enough. As I was walking out, Lego Land girl stopped me, looked at me nervously, barked "I love your poem.", then ran out of the room followed by a young lad who stomped off after her after cutting me a dirty look. My response of "Whatthehuuuuhmeh..?" cued fits of giggles and we went out exploring the world of rum.
After trawling t'interweb, there doesn't seem to be an abundance of live music in Bangkok, but these guys look like they're worth a look.
"Nice weather for ducks." Has anyone ever even asked ducks if they like the rain?
The past few days I have been witness to some events in the street which have brought a smile to my face in one way or another..
Last night, a young man skilfully rode his bicycle no-handed down the Oxford Road, smiling from ear-to-ear at passing strangers, dancing with his arms and singing an indecipherable tune. An older dapper looking gentleman walking beside me at the time shared some gestures of amusement and a hearty chuckle.
This morning, a young Asian women stopped in front of me, pointed at an old Asian woman in the middle of Broad Street and shrieked "YOU KNOW MY MUVVER!!".. Scaring the bejesus out of me and the old woman. (I didn't catch their subsequent conversation but I assume she did know her MUVVER.)
At lunchtime, a small child span around and around and around, like a falling seed in the middle of a busy street, right until dizziness overcame him and he fell over; at my feet. He proceeded to giggle and held his tummy as he rolled around on the floor.
Life is nothing but a series of moments and I hope a lot of them are like these.
Tonight, a number of moments were spent at the launch of the 46th edition of SOUTH bi-annual poetry magazine, at Reading Library. Some of the contributors / readers were twee and self-indulgent, however thankfully, a number were captivating. One gentleman's tale of the mementos one brings back from trips (tickets, maps, postcards etc) struck a high chord with me. Particular mention goes to the professional contributor of this edition, Carolyn King, who read a number of (personally) edifying pieces. I feel like I knew some of them, somehow, but have no idea how.
I hope you're smiling. Whatever it is you're doing. On the bus, sat eating your breakfast, drinking coffee, watching TV or staring at the ceiling.
Where-ever you're reading this, look out of the window and think. (Try it.)
I hope someone, somewhere thinks you're the best thing since the best thing before sliced bread. Even if they don't right now; they will.. They just might not know it yet. You might have already met them and you haven't quite worked it out.
I hope you are loved.
I hope the choices in your life are leading you down a path of happiness. That you know the difficult hurdles you are overcoming are worth the risk. That you know the hardest choice to take is usually the right one. That you know that pain is often worth the reward, but that pleasure doesn't have to start or end with suffering. That you can still find beauty in simple pleasures. That you can forgive and forget. That you know that you and you alone are responsible for your own happiness. That you agree that perfection is only in our minds. That you know that you are capable of anything and everything. That you can practice what you preach. That you are more than the sum of your parts if you know where to find yourself.
It's not somewhere that has immediately jumped out as me as somewhere I'd visit in the past; but reading up on the landscape, the culture, the architecture and for the ease of travel around the country it's a difficult one to pass over.
This morning I was introduced to the wonderful salty gorgeousness of Marmite mushrooms. Liberally plonk some butter in a pan, add mushrooms, cook until they go gloopy, add a dollop of Marmite, give it a mix, then serve on toast with some scrambled eggies. Omnomnomnomnomnomnom. This, along with vast amounts of coffee, watching programmes about Australian customs officers (?) and playing with the world's cutest cat (after Dylan and Roxy obviously) went some way to solving what could've been the worst hangover in the history of the world since time began and maybe even before that.. But I could be exaggerating.
Watching A F Harrold (or "Ashley" to his friends or at least acquaintances) Lovely Cabaret last night was such a delight. Being introduced to the insanely witty John Hegley was alone worth the ticket but the magnificent Robin Ince doing his mixture of bizarre scientific banter and observational comedy was the cherry on the top of the Lovely cake. We frequented the The Milk Bar afterwards (which apparently is named after an alcoholic milk drink that used to be served from the Inn which is now the bar) and discovered that I like (good) rum. Therefore, much rum was consumed for the rest of the evening. Hence the hangover. Obviously. Slightly more civilised evening planned tonight...
This came on my shuffle earlier this week and I've been listening to it quite a bit -
This time last year, I can distinctly remember listening to this (along with the rest of the album), sat reading the Millennium trilogy on the train too and from Reading everyday. The crisp morning air, the orange, purple and red sunrises and the overwhelming sadness that I felt at the time; it feels like another life.
Tomorrow evening I have been invited to take part as an audience member in a live debate on BBC3's Free Speech special on immigration. The other topics for discussion are 'arming the Police', 'Nick Clegg's apology' and 'Page 3 models'; which are all subjects close to my heart. I'd applied a few weeks ago and completely forgotten about it, so I was pleasantly surprised to receive an e-mail from the production company today inviting me.
What's even more special about this event is that three of my clients have been working with the same production company on a programme about multi-culturalism in Britain and also have been invited to be part of the crew tomorrow night... Incredibly proud of them! I might even get to meet Jake Humphrey.
The cold nights have begun in earnest and I'm sleeping like a contented kitten. This feeling of being snuggled up in bed when the world is slowly turning frosty is almost worth the shorter days. Waking in the darkness has its drawbacks, but driving towards the sunrise can be spectacular. (After being stuck in traffic for four hours last weekend and missing the Autumn equinox celebrations; I'm making triple sure I'll be at Samhaim.)
Sunday morning was particularly beautiful and we were blessed with tranquil conditions by the Thames as we ran the Reading 10k in 57.30 and 57.31 respectively.. Both personal bests. Having someone to pace me at the beginning was great as I usually go off like a stabbed rat and my (gentle) motivational pushing for the last 1k was apparently well needed. The afternoon spent horizontal, eating crumpets, being cooked a MEGA roast and falling asleep on some incredibly comfy sofas made for the most relaxed Sunday for a verrrry long time. It will be my last run for a while as I'm starting a climbing, weights, occasional yoga and eating LOADS regime tomorrow in preparation for November. As much as I love running, it doesn't do anything for my body shape and I need to bulk up a tad. Climbing is a good mix of cardio and strength training so I'll keep that up... However three hours of it tonight after yesterday's exertions was exhausting. I should pace myself, but sod it... Bring on the pain.
Following on from my last post; I was overhoyed to learn that my friend's band will be touring with Rae Morris in a few months! What are the odds, eh? This week, I've been listening to this a lot..
