This is a poem I have written for a dear friend who we suddenly lost last week. I don’t normally write poems, as you’ll probably be able to tell, nor would I normally use this site to write about such personal things, but there’s something quite therapeutic about putting words into verse as a reflection of innermost feelings.
I’m sure that anyone else who has been bereaved would be able to relate to some of the sentiments here.
I’m Still Waiting…
When I first heard the news, I was shocked and confused.
How could this happen to a girl so well loved, such as you?
I’m still waiting to be told that none of it’s true.
The memories we share are full of smiles and laughter,
those drunken nights out and the food-fests after…
I’m still waiting to hear what you’ve picked as a starter.
You always knew what made good conversation,
Excitedly you would speak, with much animation…
I’m still waiting to meet you at Lancaster station.
I keep reading old messages you’d sent to my phone,
And looking through the many photographs that I own…
I’m still waiting to tell you, “You’re not alone”
I can only be glad you played a part in my life,
my friend, my flatmate, and my ‘Facebook Wife’…
I’m still waiting for you to comment on my butter knife!
I’ve thought about you so much in this past week,
As some semblance of understanding I strenuously seek…
I’m still waiting for your call and our chance to speak
But now my head feels empty, and my heart feels hollow.
Attempts to smile rebuffed each time by sorrow…
I know that you will still not be here tomorrow.
I have recently returned from a holiday in South-East Asia visiting Cambodia and a wee bit of Vietnam. For two wonderful weeks, I was back doing the thing I love doing the most in life – travelling – an activity in which you feel constantly sensualised from the relentless exposure to ‘the new’ – new sights, new faces, new knowledge, new sounds, new tastes – all of which open your mind to new ideas and food for thought (often literally) that you can carry back home in your luggage to try and apply in places more familiar.
I remember hearing a wonderful analogy about this once. A native of a land coloured yellow went to a land coloured blue, and when they eventually returned home, what had previously been unquestionably yellow was now appearing green… different, yet the land itself had not physically changed at all…
I have found the past few days particularly challenging in trying to convince myself that my holiday was not just the dream that reality’s return tries to make me believe it was, but this post isn’t really about that… instead I wanted to share the story of an aspect of my journey home…
I had to catch two flights in order to arrive back in the UK (oh how I wished that either had have to have been cancelled indefinitely, allowing me to extend my break!). The second of these flights was a rather ominous sounding 13 hour jaunt from Singapore to London. Indubitably it was my least favourite part of the entire two weeks, even worse than the diarrhoea, but in it’s own little way it served as a memorable vignette of modern day living…
Having initially boarded the plane, I noticed that a middle-aged couple were sat in my allocated seat, which happened to be in the first row of Economy class – a cheeky little row where you get a bit of extra leg-room and – according to the chap who eventually took up the seat next to me – “more chance of an upgrade – if there are too many babies on board they have to take these seats and so those who were meant to be there can be moved somewhere better!”. The middle-aged couple were disgruntled to learn that the seats which they were sat in were not actually theirs, and reluctantly shuffled out and into the row behind. “This is ridiculous”, said Mrs Moody, “we paid extra for these seats”. Her husband concurred, whilst I stood awkwardly feeling a niggling sense of guilt at the commotion I had inadvertently caused just by heading towards the seat number printed on my boarding pass.
Mr and Mrs Moody continued to huff and puff once they’d sat down behind me, with Mrs Moody’s disdain further being exacerbated by her discovery that her in-flight entertainment system was not working. Mr Moody caught the attention of a passing flight-attendant – “We would just like to LOG the FACT that the in-flight entertainment system is NOT working.”
“Sir, we have not even started moving yet, the systems need to configure….” came the reply of the flight-attendant.
A few moments later I felt a tap on my shoulder. Mr Moody had removed my rucksack from underneath my seat and was thrusting it at me:
“Is this your bag?! When you sit on THAT row, you have to put ALL your belongings in the overhead LOCKERS!” – this piece of information was accompanied by a forefinger motioning upwards, in case for some reason my bag-related error of judgment also meant that I was incapable of working out whereabouts an overhead locker may be located – outside perhaps?
I took the bag and fulfilled Mr Moody’s wishes before sitting back down and beginning to read my book. Compressed air caught me out, and I started to cough. Quite a lot. Loudly.
“For goodness sake!” I overheard Mr Moody retort from directly behind me, whilst feeling a sharp nudge into my back, “This just gets better and better. We end up in the wrong seats, the in-flight entertainment system doesn’t work, there’s a baby crying over there and now we’ve got somebody with a bloody cough!”
By this point I was beginning to seriously tire of Mr and Mrs Moody’s ongoing huffiness and was once again grateful for the invention of headphones and their ability to drown out external racket. I spent most of the flight listening to music, sleeping, or speaking with the man next to me, who continued to impart useful bits of information. He was a lovely man who was very well-traveled due to his work as a theatrical director, and it’s characters like this – who you meet only briefly, and certainly not long enough to exchange contacts – who add to the fun of travel:
“This is the second longest flight that British Airways will provide “, he said, “the longest is London to Buenos Aires. That one is 16 hours.”
“This is the best sort of time (22:55) to catch this kind of flight. Because it requires so much fuel, they always have to replenish it in good time. These flights are almost never delayed, and because you reach London in the early hours of the morning, you’ll barely ever be queuing for too long at Passport Control”
“When travelling in a developing country you should always have a bowl of local yogurt for breakfast. The bacteria will immunise you from any illness you might acquire from the food, drink or climate”
“South Africa is one of the most dangerous places to travel. A lot of people end up being mugged there…I experienced it myself in Johannesburg, they aim for your feet, and once there they try and trip you up. The worst way in which you can react is by trying to defend your face from any punches. A lot of these attackers are high on drugs that have impaired their vision… if they see you cover your face, to them it will appear as though you’re trying to punch them back, and that’s when they might get the weapons out”
When not speaking to this chap, listening to music, reading my book, or sleeping, I would occasionally overhear further snippets from the jolly row behind. At around 2am I heard Mr and Moody complaining about the seats still.
And then at 4am.
And 4.30am.
When it had become time to recline my seat a bit in order to try and snooze, suffice to say that the movement was met with another groan…
The complaints came to a head at 5am, shortly before the flight was due to land, when Mr Moody accosted the flight-attendant once more to express his disapproval, “we paid SPECIFICALLY for those seats, but that’s not what our boarding pass says”
Whilst I do understand Mr and Mrs Moody’s frustrations, what annoyed me was that – in a typically British way – they treated what in the grand scheme of things was a minor inconvenience as akin to a worldly crisis, ranting and raving more about their seats than anything else throughout the entire flight. Where had Mr and Mrs Moody just been? On holiday? Visiting friends? Where were they going? Home? Back to loved ones? Surely that they had something, anything else to spend 13 hours talking about, for the sake of their own sanity let alone anybody else’s.
As the plane eventually reached it’s resting place I turned to the man next to me and commented on how surprisingly pleasant the flight had been given it’s long duration. “The extra-legroom was a bonus” we agreed. Mr and Mrs Moody were swift to disembark whilst I tried to locate my shoes. For extra comfort, I’d removed them at the start of my journey and placed them underneath my seat, next to the rucksack that Mr Moody would later remind me to put in the overheard lockers. I could not immediately locate my shoes, but on closer inspection noticed them firmly wedged, as if by an irritated human force, between the seats where Mr Moody had been sat.
I’m pretty sure that the title of this post may come as a surprise to many who know me, because those who do will be aware that I am well and truly single, and have been for several years. I am neither looking for a relationship, nor against having one. I am neither waiting, nor putting it off. The plain truth is that it’s simply not happening for me at the moment, and that is something I accept.
Whilst many around me are getting engaged, married, or having children… it’s not unusual for my own relationship status to come up into conversation. A few years ago it was perfectly acceptable to state that you were single, but at the heavy heights of 28, I’ve found people to be somewhat less understanding – some don’t understand why I’m not out there dating as many men as possible to try and find the best fit, whereas others have even been lovely enough to warn me that my years of being able to bare children are soon to peak (which, maybe they are, but is that really the only route in life that can satisfy? What if that option was barred from me due to factors beyond my control – would my life be any less fulfilling?)
I accept that perhaps, there could be more I could be doing to ‘find somebody‘ but the question is, why should I?
For a short period of time last year I belonged to a dating website. I had a retrospectively terrible profile that tried to be ‘quirky’ and ‘honest’ and all those other buzzwords that are often suggested to make the most effective profiles. I combined informative blocks of text with what I considered to be my ‘nicest’ photos: a black and white one of me stood under an umbrella, one of me wearing what was in hindsight an ill-fitting dress in Bali whilst drinking a cocktail, and a couple of other images that conveniently concealed my buck-teeth and waistline. The products of this profile were a few dates which typically ranged in their levels of success, involving a few free meals and trips to some lovely places (Ramsgate?!), and – in fairness – some interesting conversations. There was little sustenance to any of these meetings, however, and I eventually deleted my profile (after about ten million pop-up messages from the site, asking me if I was really, positively, completely, wholly, sincerely, SURE!)
Online dating works very successfully for many, but it didn’t for me, and sometimes I come to the conclusion that I’m generally just terrible at this whole ‘dating’ thing. In truth I think I lack the patience to see how things pan out with people. People speak of, ‘love at first sight’ and I’m in no position to state whether or not I think it exists, but I know who I am myself, and I know that it’s probably not something I would let happen. I’m much too nestled into my current habits to be comfortable with the idea of somebody – no matter how wonderful – suddenly blasting their way into my life like a hurricane and becoming an extension of myself overnight. If I am to be in a successful relationship, then those mental reservations are the things that I know I need to change. I need to give people a chance and take it as it comes…
… but what I don’t need to change, are things like the following, that was listed by self-proclaimed love-expert ‘Lisa Daily’ during a cringe-worthy YouTube video entitled, “Is Your Online Dating Profile Working Against You?” which came up during some search results for a music video I wanted to view. Lisa, of ‘DatingExpert.tv’ kindly seeks to help us find love in cyberspace by citing what she believes to be the most damaging ‘mistakes’ we can make with our online canvas. I could understand the point she made about how profiles without pictures attract fewer views, but then she said this…
– “Wearing chartreuse in your photos is a mistake… most people look really terrible in that squished caterpillar yellow-green colour, and it’s actually been shown to repel the opposite sex.” – I actually had to Google ‘chartreuse’ as I hadn’t come across this word before, and I was pretty devastated by the result… I mean what the hell?! This is a ridiculous piece of advice, and I’m not just saying that because I happen to like ‘chartreuse’ (stupid bloody word). Your clothes are an expression of who you are. You should wear what you feel comfortable in. If something as pathetic as the colour of your clothing is enough to put somebody off, it sounds like a bullet has well and truly been dodged anyway!
Intrigued and amused, I began to use my post-viral Saturday night to scour the internet to find other gems of relationship and dating advice. The underlying theme was that in order to be successful in the dating world, you needed to ‘do’ a lot of things – I’ll mention just a few that I saw: – go to the gym, read healthy living magazines, start a diet, get your image right, don’t overindulge at dinner, be appreciative, “always look your best!”, try and date an animal first (yes, really! A lady was being very positive about her experiences dating a horse), along with various other ‘dos’ and ‘don’ts’ which to me all just came across as trying to strip any remnants of natural character and reaction away from the dating context. Yes you are more likely to impress if you glam yourself up, but isn’t it more important that you’re yourself? If you join a gym, shouldn’t it be because you want to feel better in yourself, rather than wanting to look more trim for others? And what’s this about ‘always looking your best’? This is England. On an evening out it’s not unusual to go from ‘somewhat sophisticated’ to ‘drowned rat’ within a few minutes thanks to our friend the rain, and if your date is the kind to look at your heavily precipitated head and run, then – again, surely – you’re better off without? And no matter for how long you keep yourself looking intact, it will definitely rain at some point…
The problem with dating tips is that they essentially try and put too much scientific equation into something which should really just be a natural wonder. Dating tips try to increase your chances of romance by telling you all the various things you need to do, or change about yourself, when in reality if you really wanted to do those things you’d have already done them, right?
There’s only one dating tip I live by. It wasn’t one I ever read anywhere, or was told – rather, it was something I learnt through my earlier experiences with dating and relationships – times when I essentially wasn’t what was required or desired of me. From this I spent a lot of time being single, and here I am single still, but it doesn’t bother me like I used to think it maybe would, because the thing I’ve learned, is that the only thing I can offer anybody is me, whatever that means.I could probably learn to give dates a bit more of a chance, but I refuse to try and be something I am not for the sake of a successful date or a relationship – pretence is too hard an act to sustain, and defeats the purpose of true love. Only by being me will I really find who is right for me.
And whilst I do hope that someday I will meet ‘the one’ and have a family, likewise I know that it may just as easily not happen, and I’m prepared for that outcome too. My long-term life plan does not exist, it hasn’t for quite some time, and I like it that way…
Song of the Day:Wakey! Wakey! – Through The Night
Catchy as the virus I’ve just had, but a lot cheerier. Enjoy!
Frequently in this blog, I’ve written about the dangers of life moving too quickly, and how hectic daily routines can make us lose sight of the things that are truly important. I’ve spoken of the need for us to have some ‘time out’ occasionally – an opportunity to press the ‘pause’ button and just stop for a minute or two.
Today – a Sunday – I have absolutely nothing planned – nowhere to go, nobody to see… and actually, it makes a nice change, and I’m reveling it. Time to read, time to write, and time to listen to music, allowing my senses absorb every single note (which somehow can’t be done as easily when you’re listening to music whilst ‘on the go’, detracted by whatever it is you’re doing). A large cup of coffee is steaming away on my desk, and from downstairs I catch the wafting scents of a roast-dinner that I’ll look forward to devouring in an hour or so’s time.
Moments like this are few and far between, and I know that that’s for the best. When I first came to Canterbury and was unemployed with no money and no friends, every single day was like this. I didn’t really have the means to do anything else, and it became tiresome. I grew increasingly bored and irritable and felt that nothing I was doing was serving any purpose. Thankfully things are very different now, and these moments where you need do nothing at all have evolved into precious opportunities to relax and refuel which simply cannot be wasted or dismissed.
I’ve always believed in this. When I was 15, I used to have a ritual every Sunday evening where I’d light an incense stick and some candles and lie on my bed listening to my sister’s gothic and rock-metal CDs, losing myself in tunes like the following (which I’m re-listening to now for the sake of nostalgia) as a means to re-energise for the week of school ahead…
I referred to these as my ‘Candles’n’Incense evenings’ (which amused a couple of my friends) and it was very much my time, and I’d get most perturbed if I was interrupted… usually by phone-calls from friends on the land-line, wanting to ask me about some homework or generally gossip about classmates and boys. Whilst my tastes have since changed, the sentiment of having some personal time on Sunday has very much remained. It’s almost become a dietary requirement for me, and I try to avoid doing anything on Sunday evenings if I can.
Why is the prospect of having nothing planned so appealing? Sometimes it’s just nice to be in a position where you can really absorb the creative stimuli around you. Today I’ll read ‘Blue Truth – A Spiritual Guide to Life & Death and Love & Sex’ by David Deida, a book which one of my favourite authors – Ryan Murdock – has described as a life-changing book that everybody should read. I’ll peruse Spotify and get nostalgic listening to bands I used to love as a teen – Faith No More, Bis, Teenage Fanclub… I’ll watch a representative from my collection of ’80’s movies whilst relaxing in bed… and then later I’ll take a trip to the Chartham Downs to see if the poppies by Little Iffin Wood have bloomed yet…
….Costless comforts. Exactly what Sundays are for.
Song of the Day:Bis – Popstar Kill
Bis – an indie-pop outfit from Glasgow – are – with their songs about confectionary shops and dinosaurs, one of the most unique bands I’ve ever heard. Most popular during the ’90s, they’ve recently returned from a long hiatus to release a new album. Reminded of their existence, I felt like listening to their older stuff, which I used to love as a 12-year old. This song – laced with infantile attitude and tuneful melodies – was a particular favourite, from an album which would often be spinning around my CD player… I used to want to be lead vocalist Manda Rin… Music just isn’t made like this anymore!
At some point, ensnared in a state of overwhelming perplexity, we’ve all resorted to using Google beyond it’s primary purpose of finding out about things, to finding out howto do things… ‘How to wear a hairband?’, ‘How to roast potatoes so that they are crispy?’, the somewhat more personal: ‘How to tell someone you like them’, or even, ‘How to stop eating biscuits?’ (as a friend who shall remain nameless once got caught typing into her laptop after proudly announcing she had given up the cuppa companions for Lent). Within moments of typing up our query, thanks to the world wide web and all whom who contribute to it, we finally have the answers for which we have been so strenuously looking, and all appears right with the World again.
However, not content enough with the pride it can yield from every Sunday roast it has enhanced across the planet, or the number of Custard Creams it has saved from a vicious death-by-tooth, Google has continued to develop its search engine even further in recent years. The relatively recent addition of the autocomplete feature has sought to save us valuable typing time by predicting our search terms on the basis of those which are input most frequently by users across the globe. Start typing ‘h-o-t…’ – you’re probably looking for Hotmail, Google deduces. ‘a-m-a…’? You’re probably off to bust the town-centre queues by shopping on Amazon. ‘w-e-d’ ? Alright sweetpea, here’s where you can buy your marital frock… Clever stuff, right? (Although it doesn’t always work, of course. You cannot cure your lack of love-life by searching for a m-a-n on Google. It will just take you to Old Trafford.)
This evening I found myself turning to Google once again. After several weeks of feeling exceptionally tired despite maintaining a somewhat healthy diet and regular exercise, I wanted to see if I could source any good tips on how to feel more energetic. I had only typed in ‘how to feel’ when up popped Google’s auto-complete tool with the suggestion of ‘how to feel happy’.
And – somewhat ironically – that made me feel sad.
Out of every emotion or state of being, the one most people seem to struggle to find – according to what’s most commonly typed into Google – is happiness?
I’m not denying that happiness isn’t an easy state to reach. There are enough awful things going on in the world today that you’d probably need to live self-sufficiently in a cave, twenty feet below the ground, alone, wearing oven gloves and a blindfold in order to not see, hear or feel any of those negative things (and who’d want to live like that, anyway?). Life is just not easy, for anyone, and constant happiness is an impossible task. I should also acknowledge that people are hardly likely to try and search for something that they do not want, and that’s probably why something like, ‘how to feel like a depressed gargantuan‘ is not higher up in the pecking order of Google’s auto-completed suggestions. But those things aside, the very fact that so many are resorting to Google to try and find out how to feel an emotion that everybody deserves access to, is nothing short of alarming.
Deep down, I consider myself to be an overall positive person. Occasionally it’s resulted in me being accused of being naive, and out of touch with the ‘grim reality’ of the world. Actually, it’s acknowledgement and awareness of that ‘grim reality’ that somehow seems to fuel my positivity. I’m certainly no eternally grimacing Polly-Anna. I cannot smile during what is clearly despair. I have a fair few anxiety-related issues that I mainly keep to myself. I worry a lot and can sometimes take things too personally. But it’s those not-so-good ways of feeling that make me take stock of and value all the good things in my life even more, no matter how big or small, or make me instigate the changes that I know I need to, and ultimately that cheers me up. And so all in all, I am not a naive rag-doll who cannot understand why the whole world isn’t happier, I am nothing more than a complete hybrid of emotion.
Just like everybody else.
But I still think that it says something of concern when, according to Google, a lot of our folk are trying to work out how, or why, they should be happy. And then it makes me wonder, is this sense of general dissatisfaction a by-product of the very nature of the society in which we live?
Those of us who live in the West are extremely fortunate to do so. Whatever you like or dislike about Britain, you cannot argue with the fact that by being a British citizen, you have access to a lot of things that many people in the World do not – fresh running water, free healthcare, free education, basic living costs, shelter, food. We take those things for granted every single day of our lives, and then we display shock and surprise when humanitarian efforts such as Comic Relief evidence that there is a far less rosey life beyond all that. As a society we gape alongside Z-list celebrities sent out to deepest Ethiopia to fawn over dying children, and then inform everybody that we’ve ‘done our bit’ by pledging £5, before heading to bed with a Rich Tea and glossy magazine when we then seem to forget all about it until the next year.
On top of the basics that we have, we also enjoy a lot of luxuries here in Britain, luxuries that over the years have virtually morphed themselves into ‘basics’ – such as widespread internet access, mobile phones, cars, video-games, holidays. We also enjoy a pretty remarkable set of human rights and freedoms, some of which are barely decades old – indicating that we live in a society that actively recognises and promotes everybody’s right to a decent life. Provided you don’t seek any harm to others, you can pretty much be whoever you want to be, and do whatever you want to do, in Britain. Our women are no longer oppressed by inequities within the law, and our children have more choice than ever before about the kind of paths they wish to pursue in their education and later careers.
We should be the happiest we’ve ever been, but statistics suggest that we’re far from it. More British people than ever before are looking to emigrate. They feel that a better quality of life can be found elsewhere. They’re not fully content with what they have here… and part of me wonders if they’ll ever be content with what they have anywhere, because it seems to me that our society as a whole just does not know when to stop looking for or wanting more.
Remember when mobile phones first became popular? An old Nokia ‘brick’, with enough storage for about ten text messages, and an in-built game of ‘Snake’ was all people wanted, and that was enough.
Nowadays, most people couldn’t entertain the thought of possessing a phone with such basic features. They’ve become accustomed to having the internet at their finger-tips on devices that can pretty much do anything besides wipe your bum for you (and even then… I give it time…). Vast technological improvement in the past few years has seen things that were once luxuries transcend into what now appear to be basic needs, and a lot of people – myself included – seem to have forgotten how they managed without.
For sure, things shouldn’t necessarily cease developing just for the sake of humility, but it’s down to individuals themselves to invest their own personal time into reflecting on the difference between what it is they really need in life, and what it is they think they need, because the truth is, it really shouldn’t take much for people to be happy. Varying circumstances aside, it’s certainly not the sort of thing that anybody should ever feel the need to resort to a faceless internet search engine to try and find.
Is unfulfilled desire at the root of a lot (but not all) unhappiness? I’ve certainly come to think so, and instances such as the recent killings in the U.S by a young man frustrated by not having the intimate relationship he wanted with a female seem to only make me believe it even more. And stories like that frustrate me so much because that young man had so much that so many others can only dream of, but he didn’t realise it because he was too fixated on the things he didn’t have. And that’s just typical.
If people got into the mindset of appreciating something they do have each time they think about how much they want something they don’t have, I wonder if Google’s auto-complete tool would source the same responses…
Song of the Day: Grouplove – Raspberry
Grouplove are a contemporary Rock band from the States, and this song is – incidentally – the best song that The Pixies never wrote…
I’m not sure what it was – the way the lilac flowers swayed in the soft Spring breeze as I looked out of the train window, or the remnants of varying emotions within – still lingering from a range of recent events – or perhaps it was just ‘that time of the month’…
But something made me stop today. Something made me pause, and without any clear reason, I found myself feeling overcome with a strange sense of sadness (perhaps perpetuated by the piece of music which was on my MP3 player at the time)
We all know that nothing in life ever stays the same way forever and for the most part, we’re grateful for that. Life could not be classed as life without change or growth… but all of a sudden, today, that acknowledgement of impermanence resonated within me with a sense of fright, as I realised just how fragile any given moment is.
All too often it takes a tragedy to remind us of this. Through soaking eyes we utter those somewhat cliched words, “…this really puts things into perspective…” and vow to henceforth never let any of life’s daily grind detract us from that which is truly important – our family and friends, and our values. We reflect upon this for a little while but despite best intents and purposes the sentiment can so quickly be lost – the telephone rings, we remember there’s somewhere we need to be or something we need to be doing, something irritates us, we see something amusing in the distance, or we go to sleep – there are so many minor occurrences that can so easily detract our minds back to things which in the grand scheme of things, really don’t matter.
…At this point, I recall an excerpt written by one of my favourite travel writers, Canadian Ryan Murdock, in his book ‘Vagabond Dreams’, a stunning book describing a both physical and personal journey through Central America which I wish everybody would read:…
“Nicaragua taught me that there’s a poverty of life in the West, a poverty of the spirit that mimics the drudgery and dull wasting away of monetary poverty. Meaninglessness is our great disease. Life’s spark is smothered by routine, by the grind.”
Herein lies the problem. We simply have too many other things to think about in life – duties to perform… plans to be made… financial sustainance to achieve…. and other random, sporadic little things to think about – that we don’t always feel as though we have enough available time in which we can revel in what Murdock refers to as ‘life’s spark’ – those moments when we can focus upon fun, and love – all variants of it. And central to that is appreciation – the underpinning knowledge that the special moments we share, with the people we care about – may not always be an option to us…
Life goes by so quickly these days. We each live within a constant state of change where the various elements of a ‘typical day’ can change week upon week. Our circumstances change, and people will come and go from our lives all the time. It’s simply not feasible for us to forever live out ‘life’s spark‘ in the same way, yet we so often allow ourselves to be consumed by meaningless things that a year from now we will barely remember. And perhaps that’s why the word ‘fragility’ was the one which so pertinently came to my mind today. These days, at the ages we are, dwarfed by what sometimes seems to be an insurmountable pressure to ‘sort our lives out’- it is more important than ever to make the most of any opportunity we have for love, and fun (aka – the stuff which matters most, in the grand scheme of things).
But how does ‘making the most’ of these moments manifest itself? How do we handle such ‘fragililty’? For something so largely important, it can be done in the smallest of ways… Listening to every word. Savouring every minute. Focusing on the ‘here and now’ and not allowing our minds to wander towards external things that may be bothering us. Tight hugs…
…but above all, giving thanks that we ever had that opportunity in the first place – because it’s all so susceptible to change.
… Upon reflection, perhaps today’s strange surge of sorrow was down to the flowers swaying in the wind – looking at them, overcome by how beautiful they looked growing along the banks, knowing that several weeks ago they were not there, and knowing that in several weeks’ time they will have disappeared again, but being grateful for the pleasant imagery they provided today…
In the school corridor one April some years back, possibly 2003, a friend and I burst into hysterics when we noticed a teacher pinning drawings of bunny rabbits onto a display-board that featured photos from that term’s Drama production of Greek tragedy Antigone (in which yours truly had been cast a typically bit-part role as King Creon’s Servant #12 or something like that, and had still managed to royally muck up her lines). But it wasn’t the photos that amused my friend and I, more so the caption across it, “Spring Into Drama”, and the way the teacher, ‘Dr. Wazza’ as we fondly referred to her, was gleefully pinning the bunny rabbit cartoon drawings across her display, clearly proud of her pun. We laughed about this for a good while, especially whenever we passed by it in the weeks that followed.
I’m not quite sure how or why I still remember this hardly life-defining moment of laughter, but each time Spring rolls around I find myself thinking of it as a season of freshness, movement and fun, and then I think back to that caption and become slightly more appreciative of Dr.Wazza’s sentiment.
Spring IS a season to do new things, to have longer days and find things to fill them with, to re-acquaint ourselves with fresh air and blue skies. There’s something about it that just makes me want to be everywhere doing everything with everyone in every moment – to make the most of those days, weeks and months that appear all too fleetingly before the darkness will once again descend. To really start afresh.
And I very much like this feeling.
I very much like Spring.
Song of the Day: Wonder Stuff – Piece of Sky
This song is a pretty scary 25 years old… but it still sounds so fresh, and is still one of my favourite tunes to listen to at this time of year.
So with a relatively important piece of work to be getting on with on this pleasantly Spring-like Saturday, I did what most people do when they’ve a billion better things to be doing and logged onto Facebook for a bit of voyeuristic procrastination. Whilst scrolling down the Newsfeed, expecting not to see anything of any real importance, I saw that WWF’S Earth Hour – United Kingdom had posted a link to an intriguing sounding video – a timelapse filmed from the International Space Station as it passed over continents and cities at night.
The concept of space and the Universe has always been one to absolutely stagger me. Despite wanting to, I just can’t understand the science or enormity of it all. There are so many things I’d love to know about the solar system, but each time I try to learn I become lost within an intimidating wave of terminologies, equations and measurements that I simply can’t even begin to process. So, for me, space is just that. A limitless and mysterious yet fascinating mass that has long preexisted mankind and will longer still outlive it.
Thankfully, you don’t need to have an intellectual understanding of space to be able to enjoy this video. In fact, limited knowledge of the subject only serves to make this video all the more fascinating. How strange to see our planet from this angle. How strange to see the Western US coast as just a mere black landmass splattered with lights – no sign at all of its cosmopolitan cities and suburbs which brim with movie stars, mansions, beaches, beauty salons and bubble-tea bars. How strange to see Europe without seeing continental breakfasts, Alpine rivers and roving valleys. How strange to see the Northern Lights flutter above the planet like emerald ribbons in the wind… quite a contrast to the view from ground-level – rooted to a hill North of Reykjavik in freezing evening winds, salopettes flapping against shins, faces gazed up waiting for even the briefest of views of those green flashes… How strange just to see the World without seeing that which constantly beavers away to keep it going, and keep those lights lit – its people…
Imagery like this fascinates me because it reminds me of just how big the world truly is. It’s funny to think of all of the things that were going on below the recording equipment that were just too minute, too obscure, to be picked up: people cooking dinner, catching buses, watching television, brushing teeth, embracing, getting married, giving birth, fighting wars, passing away… all things which are significant to us individually, but appear not to be acknowledged in Space…
No wonder its size is so hard to comprehend…
Song of the Day: Tennis – Deep In The Woods
“The smoke in the night the ash on the light I think that it might be the last thing in sight I know now I am right to let you be consumed by the smoke in the night the ash on the light
sophiekemsley 