The first time this year, I took the dog out on the field this morning.

It was glorious. The sound of birds, the smell of thawing field, the warmth of the sunrise, the bright glistening frost, the hints of buds and capillary-like branches stretching with imminent hope of something… the sensational experience was more than I can describe here. More than most of us might capture with words, images, music or dance… though I love and applaud those who try! (Like Bill Withers)

Usually, my better-half takes the dog out, but on Saturday’s it’s my duty while E’s at work. As I say, it seems a duty, a ‘thing that needs to be done’, and like any chore it can be ‘seen’ as a chore. Googling an antonym for ‘chore’ we find happiness or peace !  Two sides of the same coin – flip the coin! Surely what makes a chore a chore is its relativity, its context, the way we perceive the task or situation. Many of us find ourselves doing routine things and tasks that ‘need to be done’. Yes it’s easily said, and I’m the worst at seeing above the clouds, but sometimes it really can take a small twist of perspective, a grounding of our perception to see something differently, to see something for what it truly is, to realise. Relax the clasped hand, and instead of a fist we have an open palm.  

I process stuff, we all do, but as an over-thinker, and a visual artist, I like to process stuff a tad more. This can be a problem, though being creative can make more of stuff, the process can perhaps take away and detract from the reality of life. We need a little unfiltered reality every now and then. Or we might say, to a generation swimming in hyperreality, we need a little unfiltered experience more regularly! 

As I say, I am the worst culprit. I, like many of us, find myself routinely consumed with pretty perfect polished pop cyberspace. Snap out of it. As a counselor once suggested to me, time for a ‘wet fish’ grounding. 

I took the dog out on the field this morning. It was more vibrant than any Instragram post, it was warmer than any edifying TED video, it was more exciting than a game of Mario, more rewarding than a win on BingoBingo… it was real.

Easily said I know… but, turn off the device. Take off the filters…
Breathe.

Go outside. 

(Added on Sunday) Frostier this morning…

My young daughter said to me, “Dad, I like the birds, sunsets, candles and smiling people too, but I don’t get overwhelmed by them, you’re way too emotional…”

We were with friends, sitting around flickering flames in the fireplace, with a spicey drink… and the room was gently warming… I am not a fan of the fuss and festivities, but the rituals and traditions of the end-of-year midwinter season help us reform structures and foundations in our lives. They help us define our past, and shape who we are. Seasonal traditions give us a sense of comfort and belonging and enable people to reconnect with others. Christmas themes help reinforce values such as freedom, faith, integrity, hope, personal responsibility, ethics, and values. If you try and take it all on board, and juggle festive with fact, or tradition with truth, it can become too much.

It will be no surprise to you that, yes, I get overwhelmed by it all – with all the stimulation, tradition, memories, energy, expectations, hopes and fears… to the point that I just hold up my hands, my thoughts, my curiosities, suspend disbelief and have to yield to the pleasures and the perils… breathe… centre… accept these things we do… #recognise

It’s these ‘things we do together’ these ‘interactions’ that make us what we are. It’s about people. The heart of the village is the people. Home us where the heart is. The tradition of warmth and a flame in the hearth… 

While the flames are still flickering, this year I hope we can remember the hearth. Where your treasure is, there is your heart(h) also. It needs regular cleansing, maintenance, fuel, space, care and attention. The heart needs to be true, especially if you’re someone who gets overwhelmed and “way too emotional…”

HNY.

As the season of maniacal merriment mechanically approaches… breathe.

I am torn between contemplation and mere acceptance. Alas, it’s my nature to question and cogitate while the rest of the world seems to just get on with stuff.

Outside the window, there was no music…   As winter bites, sometimes it feels (and feeling is a real thing, it can hurt) as though the vast quiet darkness is louder than no music… Yes, sparkles sparkle and prisoners of hope mean well, but sometimes it can seem that, as one famous droid said, “we’re doomed”.  Perhaps what is required is less robotic and more creatural – less digital and more analogue. The language, pictures, and stories we create can become more real than the brain’s digitally sparking axons and synapses.  A significant difference in our automatic behaviour and a more human or humane way is our breath.

To paraphrase Aldous Huxley; Above the silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is our breath.
“From pure sensation to the intuition of beauty, from pleasure and pain to love and the mystical ecstasy and death — all the things that are fundamental, all the things that, to the human spirit, are most profoundly significant, can only be experienced, not expressed. The rest is always and everywhere silence. After silence that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.” AH

I recently had a chance to experience recording the solo vocal on a new song. Exciting, fun and enlightening (Thanks RM). I greatly enjoyed the opportunity but after a few sessions my inexperience showed through. Like an unpractised painter might paint an unconvincing painting or an amateur actor might have limited depth of character etc. Though the production of this ‘recording’ is arguably a good thing, the experience of creating it was by far a greater more impacting thing. I’ve sung with a big world-music choir for many years, I was part of a small harmony group for a few years. In the past, I sang in folk singalongs in the pub, and if course as a child and teenager I absorbed the spirited congregational singing of Cornish Methodism. Singing is essentially breathing sounds but why we sing and what we think/feel when we sing is a far bigger thing. As Oliver Sacks said, “Music is both completely abstract and profoundly emotional…”   To paraphrase Nietzsche; Life without music would be a mistake…

As I said, the season of merriment approaches…

As I looked through the window, all was sharply still, not a sign of movement in the trees, the sky is grey and still. Somehow, sometimes, time slows.  I am reminded of the Buddhist practice and the idea of the space between our breathing. Tempo rubato, stolen time, is what it says on some musical notation. Less robotic and more creatural breathing. Take a moment to know you are alive, to know your breathing… before the maniacal merriment mechanically takes over… jingle jingle… Tempo rubato… breeathe…

Out beyond ideas … there is a field. I’ll meet you there.