The dawn of any new year always manages to throw about those same range of emotions whilst we recap the past twelve months before anticipating the ones ahead.

Our pot of 2017, which bubbles away on the stove whilst we prepare to pop the cork of 2018, is bound to consist of the same ingredients as ever, just in different quantities, perhaps.  No doubt there’ll be a few spoonfuls of personal achievement, several slices of regret, a bit of cringe purée and some handfuls of frustration, as well as whatever else you decided to throw in this year to spice up the recipe.

These recollections serve as a good time to sit back and take stock of everything.  You will naturally ask yourself whether or not you enjoyed this year, and in doing so replay the happiest and the most challenging times that you experienced.  From those, you may find it easy to say whether or not you’ve had a “good year”, but perhaps just as importantly, you might ask yourself what you have learnt.  What lessons will you take forward to make the next year, an even better one?!

When I was about fourteen years old, the internet – and by default instant messaging programs – were just taking off.  The importance of completing Biology homework was suddenly rivaled in priority by deciding what font to best represent yourself with on MSN Messenger (I eventually settled on bold orange Trebuchet, after a lot of soul-searching and experimenting with other styles and hues, none of which ultimately felt right).  Of equal importance to this, of course, was your selected username.  For most, these were usually the self-deprecating lyrics of some nu-age metal band; for others, a range of lip-kissing emojis and asterisks (*)(*)(*) – input here for nostalgic effect).  Every now and then, though, somebody might present an inspirational quote, something which nowadays we see everywhere and take for granted, but which back then were a little more unusual to see…

It was the Danish nineteenth century philosopher, Soren Kierkegaard, who originally observed that, “Life can only be understand backwards, but must be lived forwards”.  The first time I saw that quote it was as the selected username of a contact on MSN Messenger, some random girl from school (everybody added everybody back then).  I really didn’t think much of the quote at first, but something about it stood out, and with each passing year, the greater the appreciation I have that there’s some semblance of truth within it.  No matter how well we are taught during infancy and our younger years, we only really learn about life with experience.  It’s only through trying things out that we can begin to understand who we are, how we work, and what the big wide world is truly about.  And I don’t for a moment believe that we will ever really stop that learning, because all the whilst the rest of the world around us is changing, so are we.

The lessons I learnt in 2017 will be different to those of everybody else, but regardless, I think that it’s good to share these with one another.  We can learn a lot about life just by understanding what’s going on in everybody else’s worlds, and how they choose to deal with it.

1. If You Really Want It – Keep Moving for It!

In 2017, I achieved a couple of things – huge to me – which took a lot of hard work and patience to get.  A Triathlon was a classic example; I have never been a person synonymous with sport, I even got rejected from the Ultimate Frisbee club at Lancaster Uni because in the trials I couldn’t demonstrate that I knew how to throw the damn thing; so in signing up for a challenge which would comprise of a whole day’s relentless exercise I knew that I would either succeed or – most likely – be an embarrassing wreck of a failure.  I was so convinced by the visual of the latter, that I became even more determined not to fail.  So, with the help of the nice man at the gym I set a training plan and stuck to it.  For over a year, exercise was central to the calendar of the girl who had never really set foot in a gym beforehand; and the ultimate result was that I completed the Triathlon perfectly fine.

The secret? I just kept going.  There were many occasions when I was tempted to abandon my scheduled bike-rides or gym trips, but I knew that if I did so I ran the danger of lulling into the bad habits of my former laze of a self.  So, I just put one foot in front of the other repeatedly, until I was twenty miles away on a bike, with no choice but to cycle another twenty miles back.

I am not intending for this to read as a ‘yay for me’ post.  Yes, I am proud of myself, but I am also aware that people complete athletic feats like this all the time, many of which eclipse my own.  I’m sharing this only because I want anybody who is reading this who perhaps feel that their own ambitions are beyond reach, to know that they are not.  If I can complete a Triathlon, you could probably open up a gin bar on Mars if you wished to.

In knowing what you want to achieve, you have taken the first step towards it.  Now, you just need to take the next one.  And the next.  And the next. And you need to keep on taking those, regardless of the voices within that may tell you otherwise, until finally you’re there.  Just keep moving.

2. Silence the Questions, Thrive in the Reality

Perhaps a more personal one here, but one that may resonate with others.

I learnt that I am done with wondering ‘what if’, as is so tempting to do all too often.  I don’t want to waste any more time considering whether or not to do the particular things I’m inclined to do in fear of the range of impacts they might have.  A little rationality to prevent us making silly mistakes? Sure.  But sometimes… in fact… increasingly often… I have discovered it far better to know and to deal than to ponder and avoid.

I think most of us, generally, are far better at dealing with the things we’re aware of than the things we’re not.  It’s the not-knowing, and the questions, that tend to give us the biggest headaches, cause the most anxiety, and waste the most of our precious time.  So it’s time to take that step out for good.

Much like if somebody gives us their opinion on something we have said or done that they disapproved of, it may not always make for the nicest hearing, but it at least enables a sense of trust in what that person has to say.  If they then reassure you that your new outfit doesn’t make you look like a jammy dodger you can cut out that period of worrying that they’re just being polite, because they’ve already demonstrated they’re not afraid of being honest with you.

In life you can only really find things out by seeing them for yourself.  And I would far rather do whatever it is I feel like doing, and learn from the experience – even if it doesn’t result in the kind of outcomes I thought I was after – than sit and wonder ‘what if?’ forever.

So in 2018 it’s time to think much less, do much more.

3.  Reach Out; Keep Connected

This was not a new lesson for 2017, but rather an annual e-Learning refresher course of sorts.

Going back to Kierkegaard’s sentiment about understanding life retrospectively; back when I was teenager I was extremely fortunate to have pretty much the same people around me for years and years.  Perhaps the biggest change might have been that somebody would move to a street on a different side of town, or that my best-friend would move up a set in German meaning that I no longer had a buddy to share forbidden snacks with under the table (we’d have to indulge at recess instead).  The everyday company was consistent, and that was welcome in so many ways that I perhaps didn’t even realise back then.

“When we all leave here tomorrow, we’ll just be a bunch of lights scattered around the UK”, said my good friend, mawkishly, after several glasses of wine (and probably a few shots of sambuca), on the last night of University, a few years later, before we all left that little town in the North-West that was to brand itself into all our hearts permanently.  We had lived in each others’ pockets for a whole three years, but it was now time to disperse, and until she made those comments, I don’t think I had ever really appreciated how nice it had been – nor how lucky I was – to have had that consistency each day.

In adulthood, I struggle to think of any recent years in which the people I feel closest to or see the most of haven’t physically moved around.  People are moving in and out of this neck of the woods all the time, re-settling here, there and everywhere until before you know it you’re visiting old friends in new UK towns, and meeting up with new friends in the trusted old surroundings of your local pub.  We may move around ourselves too, or change jobs, or meet new people that introduce us to other new people, who introduce us to other new people, and so on.  It’s nice to meet new people, but any change that involves saying goodbye is still hard.

It’s life; and to some extent it’s what happens, but the saddest thing would be to let so much change turn the vision of a loved one’s face from colour to sepia print before you’ve even realised (to put it in an unashamedly maudlin, Birds of a Feather opening theme-esque way.)

This year I have remembered why it’s important to reach out to those you haven’t spoken to in a while, keep connected, know what’s going on in their world.  Don’t be idle, and let the people you quite like having in your present end up in your past.  And if that does happen, be reassured that you can easily bring them back with just one small message, so send it.

It’s not the newest lesson, but it’s probably one of the most important.

Wishing you all a wonderful 2018.

Song of the Day:   Suburban Kids with Biblical Names – Do It All or Don’t Do it All

Suburban Kids with Biblical Names were a sweet little Swedish twee-pop band that churned out a number of classics in the ‘00s, when the genre saw a resurgence of popularity.  I have recently started listening to them again; and this is one of my favourites:

There are a lot of things I dislike about airports, and they mostly oscillate around the concept of waiting.  

Waiting to drop off a bunch of heavy, cumbersome baggage that’s been grazing against your palms for hours during the preliminary parts of the journey. Waiting for your plastic tray of personal gear to catch up with you when passing through security. Waiting for the relevant gate to be listed on those otherwise clinical-looking departure boards.   Waiting for the attendant to call out your designated seating area so that you can finally board the only thing you came here for. Waiting to take off.  Waiting for the in-flight pretzels. Waiting for the air hostesses to finish pushing their trolleys to the other end of the aisle so you can finally get to the loo and relieve yourself of the complimentary Pinot Grigio and one too many coffees.  Waiting for landing. Waiting to wait through whatever processes come on the other side…

…But then there are also a lot of things I love about airports, and I’m not just talking about the inevitable excitement that comes from taking a holiday abroad.

I like airports because, to me, they compress the concept of globalisation into one single premise and make you feel like a citizen of the world, rather than of a single town or country.  Every day, any international airport will press its fingertips against those of multiple others, connecting countries that may otherwise feel much more distant; and that alone produces an emotional intensity so easily felt within the confines of the terminal.

For starters, airports surpass any time zone.  You might arrive into London at 3am, and in the cold, fresh light of the Big Smoke, Wetherspoons and Nandos may have firmly shut their doors for the night, but at the likes of LGW you are more than welcome to order yourself a bunch of chicken wings or a half pint of lager and act like the day is still young.  To one of the planes currently making its way into the airport, it’s still the middle of the afternoon right now.  If somewhere in the world lives, then so does the airport, no matter what its coordinates.

Then there’s the fact that an international airport amasses the smallest of spaces into which people from all over the globe may enter.  Take London Heathrow, for example.  The airport itself takes up a space of only 8 miles squared, yet it’s the predominant server of an island which is 93,627 square miles squared.  That’s 0.008 percent of the UK’s land that acts as the most major gateway for the rest of the world who wish to enter it.  This essentially means that within that small, tiny space that may otherwise cause so much frustration due to the extent of waiting, you’re also experiencing the wonder of dancing around in that narrow stem of a much wider funnel; a stem that enables familiarity, and camaraderie, with people from a wider range of cultures and customs.  No matter your native tongue or culture, you can all share a mutual frustration when take-off is delayed, or gasp in unison should the jet traverse through a rocky turbulence that takes you all by surprise.

I also like the fact that when you sit and eat dinner at an airport, your neighbouring diners are making plans that involve up to 200 different countries.  The couple next door are looking up Amsterdam hotels on TripAdvisor whilst the guy behind you speaks in Arabic on a video call.  A small, fractious child runs between the tables clutching onto a Spanish storybook, shouting words you don’t understand, at her parents.  Aussie backpackers congregate around a set of USB ports and upload the latest in their photos of a round-the-world trip to Facebook.  You may be sat considering your own trip, your own nearest and dearest… your day job… your life admin… but yet you, too, are one of those strangers that represent your own small corner of the globe, no matter how obscure it seems against those listed on the A-List departure boards that surround you.

The most interesting parts of the World are those we don’t necessarily see when flicking through guidebooks or browsing the internet.  It’s not about the perfected images of the biggest skyscrapers, the most prosperous cities, or the luxury islands.  Instead, it’s about the lights on at 11pm in the bedroom windows of suburban street houses, the rubbish spilling over the tops of dustbins, the queues at the supermarket checkouts, and the excited teenagers trying on mascara in the shopping malls.  It’s about the activity that takes place behind – or beneath – the picture perfect imagery… and the airport encapsulates all of the above, and more.

I’ve yet to focus on the most notable bit.  The bit that truly pulsates through my veins when I’m hanging around at an airport.  That is, the raw emotion of those hellos and goodbyes that reverberate around airport halls in a wide range of vernaculars. Statements like “I love you” , “I’ll miss you” animatedly expressed in every language within just eight square miles of a single country.

A billion stories behind every statement.

A billion stories that found their way into that narrow stem of global symbolism.

A billion stories being narrated in front of the entire world.

Or so it seems.

So it feels.

This is airport romance.  And any passenger can access it.

Song of the Day:  Deer Tick – Card House  

One of the newest country-rock offerings from Rhode Island band, Deer Tick.  This isn’t normally the kind of music I listen to but there’s something really endearing and addictive about this song.  In addition the new album(s) include several pieces of music that have blown me away, including Pulse, Me and My Man, and End of the World.  Highly recommended.

 

 

You may want to grab yourself a cuppa for this one.  Or a glass of wine.  Or a fag. Whatever floats your boat…

I’m making the title as blunt as the post itself for a reason, and I realise that this is probably going to sound incredibly grim, but one concept that is never too far away from my awareness, is death.

More specifically, I’m aware of the constant, underlying fear I have of it getting the better of my loved ones.  Death terrifies me – as it does most people – because not only is bereavement a devastating, drawn-out and crippling process, but it’s also something we can’t predict, time or control.  Uncomfortable though this may be to read, the brutal truth is that any one of us, or the people we care about, could suddenly die any day, irrespective of age or any existing medical condition.  We all know that; we just try not to think about it.  Quite rightfully, we just want to enjoy our lives as much as we can by focusing on more positive things.

This post has been brought on by the fact that the other night my seventy year old father had a pretty terrifying health scare that prompted an ambulance being called out to us at 11pm on a Sunday evening.  During a tense and difficult wait for help to arrive there were moments when – in hindsight, probably just fearing the worst through panic – I became convinced that dad could be about to leave us for good.  Concussed, confused and covered in blood, an usually extremely intelligent man could no longer tell us what year it was, or who was Prime Minister, and was generally just coming out with mysterious statements that made no sense.  He certainly wasn’t in the frame of mind to do one of his Killer SuDokus (and broadcast its successful completion to all and sundry) or engage in a silly debate with me about local politics.  He was suddenly a stranger.

Thankfully, Dad is absolutely okay now, but seeing him lying down in the back of the vehicle in his dressing gown, the fragility of life gave me a big slap round the face and I remembered – again – the vulnerability we all face without exception.  Nobody is immune to death; not even the strongest, richest, healthiest people in the world, and it’s something that is going to affect each of us on multiple occasions throughout our lives. And no amount of luck or planning can help you control that.

Whilst all of this may be sounding incredibly depressing (sip the tea, down the wine, suck on the fag) I do actually find – bizarre as it sounds – that an underlying understanding and acknowledgement of death – and more specifically, the fragility of life – actually amasses a huge amount of benefit and enrichment day to day, and this is the point I’m trying to get across here.  So bear with me…!

I’ve never understood the point of trying to run away from things that make us feel uncomfortable, particularly when they’re things we can’t wholly avoid.  Rather than remain fixated on how best to hide from these things, which is a huge effort in itself, I’ve learnt that it’s far better to confront, acknowledge, and then learn how to manage with them.  Death is a classic example of something we often have a tendency to try and hide from; in fact it wouldn’t surprise me if some people started to read this post but looked away after the first sentence, perhaps dismissing this as too grim to continue with.  I can understand that; life is short and we don’t want to spend it thinking about negative things, but I also think that kind of habitual avoidance can be dangerous in the long run.

To me, an underlying awareness of mortality keeps our values in check and our perspectives balanced.  It really shouldn’t take things like a terrorist attack or natural disaster to be thankful for life, and I cringe every time I hear anybody say anything along the lines of, “well this puts things into perspective”.  We all do it from time to time, in fact in my previous post you’ll see a recent example of when I did this myself.  Likewise, when there was a recent terrorist attack in London, I found myself messaging city-based friends, including some I hadn’t spoken to in a long time, to check on their welfare, and it really shouldn’t have taken something like that to get in contact.  This, and similar situations over the years, have encouraged me to ensure that I make an effort with the people I care about; to take a moment every once in a while to think about those I haven’t had much recent contact with and send them a message.  We should never allow people we care about to simply become strangers, and I like to think that my own acknowledgement of death and the fragility of life, which has increased in recent years, has lead to me becoming somebody who (or so I’d like to think) puts more effort in now than in years gone by.  I used to be pretty damn shit at it to be honest, and I wouldn’t say I’m perfect now, but definitely improved…

I have also come to find that the fear of death helps me to rationalise events around me and ensure that I’m not giving too much time and energy to the things that don’t really matter in the long run.  We’re all emotional beings who experience a myriad of thoughts and feelings within as few as sixty seconds let alone longer; and they don’t necessarily always make sense.  We’re naturally impulsive and not always going to think or do the ‘right’ things (or in other words, the things that we believe to be so).  We can get irritated, frustrated, or allow silly things to make us say or do ‘things’ we may later regret.  And that’s okay (and don’t let anybody try and tell you it isn’t, because likelihood is that if they do they’re a robot / made from silicon / don’t really exist) but having said that, it’s also essential to try and take the time to acknowledge these ‘things’ and re-consider their importance in the grand scheme of things.

When you get to the stage that you’re lying on your deathbed, whenever that may fall, are you really going to care about the fact that the train was late on the 12th April, 2012? Probably not.  But that doesn’t take away the fact you spent half an hour of precious time that could’ve been spent more positively that day, on bitching about the situation to friends via SMS, stabbing the phone furiously when you could have been looking out the window at the hills rolling by.  What about that comment somebody made in 2007 which you felt was a bit rude – are you going to spend any more time neurotically ruminating on it as you did back then?  And… if you find yourself watching a loved one floating up an aisle in a wooden box are you really going to be thinking about that time in 2010 when they didn’t contribute their share for the taxi, that you spent most of the next day moaning about? Of course not; but you might kick yourself for your lack of perspective that contributed to these reactions, which in turn took time away from the more positive things which were there in the background at the time.

Treating everybody as though you may never see them again sounds terribly grim, and is clearly not an outcome you want to fixate over too much, but if it’s going to add even more quality or encourage you to really make the most of your time with somebody then – regardless of whether you’ve many more years together – surely that’s a good thing?

I certainly think so, and that’s why death, and the fragility of life, will never be too far from mind.

(Phew. You made it to the end of the post.  Finish that cuppa, think of something beautiful, and just smile.)

Song of the Day:  Phoenix – Fior di Latte

This is a new song from French synth-poppers Phoenix and it’s incredibly sexy.  I have probably listened to it about twenty times every day for the past week.  At least.  So it’s more than eligible for Song of the Day.  THAT bassline…

Rapping my knuckles impatiently against the steering wheel, I start to hate the sight of the car in front of me.

I’ve been staring at its rear for far too long, and quite frankly, it’s just getting annoying. Multiple internal ‘grrr!’s ensue about the very fact that the car exists, and is seemingly just getting in my way.

What was supposed to be a thirty minute drive home has turned into a journey of much more epic proportions, or so it feels.  I feel like I could have reached the furthest flung corners of Abu Dhabi since I left the office, because for reasons currently unknown, the usual free-flowing gateway to home – a major local A road – has turned into a stagnant mass of four-wheeled, metallic bugs which my overdosed-on-caffeine bladder struggles to tolerate.

I am becoming increasingly more irritable.  Expletives buzz round my head at a whirlwind pace:

“This f****** f*** of a f****** road is going to make me late for the gym”

“I’m so f****** desperate for a f****** p***”

My thermos of coffee has depreciated to an underwhelming tepid temperature due to the delay, and I had to turn the audio volume down right in the midst of my enthusiastic Sinitta sing-a-long because such an act no longer suited the tempo of the traffic.

“She told me a secret! I promised that I’d ——“

Oh hold up for a moment, Sinitta! I need to perform an exceptionally ominous brake right now.

Auto-pilot steps in and emphasises the unfortunate fact that this mind-numbing wait is not conducive to my evening plans.  I recall the details of a sneaky back-road and perform an irritable ten-thousand-point turn in the middle of the road in order to turn back on myself to access it, indubitably confusing the heck out of Mr. Large Grey Nissan behind me.

As I find myself manoeuvring extremely slowly down a narrow country lane, I realise that I’m far from alone in conducting this master plan.  I count the cars ahead and consequently stare at them for the best part of an hour, ultimately concluding how much my wondrous sneaky-beaky has failed.  On the dashboard I watch the minutes roll by.  One turns into ten almost as swiftly as it turns into twenty, and this is just turning into a massive joke.

And then I see it, beneath this bridge.

The motionless vehicles sprawled inordinately across the motorway lanes.

The emergency helicopter making a perfect landing.

The blue lights flashing manically, emergency services staff  visibly working tirelessly to retain a resolute face and keep an horrendous situation in a state of somewhat check.

I see the stranger with their head in their hands sat helplessly by the side of a major English vein which, right now, lays dry, apart from the spread of personal items and mangled metal strewn across the tarmac for somebody to have to clear later.  How the Hell can I take in the magnitude of the impact of what’s just happened to you?  I can’t.

The rapping against the steering wheel stops.  The internal expletives slapped into silence.

I suddenly feel incredibly privileged and incredibly stupid.

I’m grateful I’m still heading home…

Song of the Day:  Deerhoof – I Will Spite Survive

Deerhoof are an understated San Francisco indie band who have been churning out classic tracks for over twenty years to an unobtrusive yet loyal audience.  This is one of their newest songs, and it’s spine-chillingly powerful.  Listen.

 

On a personal level it’s been an extremely busy and pretty significant few weeks.  As result there are several new posts in ‘draft’ mode that require more time than I currently have to bring them to something which I consider to be a conclusion that does them justice.

And with this comes confirmation of the importance of something which I call, ‘Spirit Time’.

Spirit Time is all about keeping in tune with ourselves and the things which we hold dear, which more often than not are the people we love (in any sense of the word), the issues we care about, the hobbies we enjoy, and developing and retaining the self-awareness that helps us navigate our ways through anything this crazy world may then proceed to throw at us.

Regular Spirit Time is extremely important; but too often we allow other things to take priority.  Increasing responsibilities in advancing adulthood mean we don’t always get a choice in the matter, nor do we always notice that when we’re so preoccupied with working our way through life’s To-Do list, we’re not really taking the time to understand what’s going on – or has gone on –  around us.  Often it’s more tempting just to cross off that final item of the day – like preparing tomorrow’s lunch or completing an online bank transaction – and go to bed without any further thought about anything.

As somebody who as result of recent change is currently floating around in the nomadic space between the comfort zones that only come with achieving familiarity with one’s new surroundings I am again remembering why regular Spirit Time is so important. Change is an important and necessary part of life, but it can also feel very strange to start with, and ensuring that we find time to devote to the things which consistently simmer our souls can hold even more value than usual during this period.

The nature of Spirit Time varies with individual need and interest, but ultimately it’s about keeping priorities in check and continuing to understand and remember one’s passions and purposes in the face of whatever mad concoction of events that may happen from day to day.  Spirit Time may take the guise of a coffee with a friend, a walk in the woods, or looking through old family photographs.  This blog forms some of my own Spirit Time, for example.

Whatever you choose to do with it, it’s important to make time to spend it.

How do you spend your Spirit Time?

                                       Photo from a recent walk in Kings Wood.

Song of the Day:  The Frights – Tungs

Just a nice, chirpy piece of American ‘let’s jump in the car, wind the windows down, and drive to the pool‘ surf-punk.  Impossible to dislike.