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Pilgrimage, going outside for some time…

Gotta make it positive! (says the little sprite on my right shoulder).  Awwh *!£#@!##%! !*#&*! (says the little !*#&* on t’other)…

It must have been 15 years or so ago that I wrote “We’re going outside, I may be sometime…”

Sun sets on St Ives
Sun sets on St Ives
‘We’re going outside and we may be some time’
Twenty-five years I grew, nurtured on Cornwall and the Cornish manner, the Cornishness that is now part of me. I still day-dream, of a ‘T’ shirt that announces “I’m Cornish and proud of it…” …is that all I have to cling to? (I haven’t even got this day-dream of mine).
I spent a childhood full of Cornwall’s riches: pebbles a sand, fIzzypop in cans, wind and rain, tunnels, holes, alleys & bunkers, vast sun-scorched gorse torched views, I could see both coasts from our bathroom window.
Spirits of the sea always whisper to me, the loudest whispers I’ve ever heard. I’ve heard in Leicestershire, Crewe and Nice, I saw a little red boat barely afloat.
I cried at the beauty surrounding me as the holidayers screamed and sizzled and I laughed. I sat alone at the end of the phone, I ran with the gang, at low tide, across St Ives Bay, on new years day. We drank and we sang and played in the band. Gran bought saffron buns at Sunday-school treat, and pasties and pasties and pasties. Slept in the snow on the rocks on Carn Brea, laughed at what nan a grandad would say (that’s not the grandad that died in the fishing boat accident). Ate winkles with pins and vinegar picked from Porthleven harbour, got filthy. Held on tight as the storm wind rips so hard it bites. Sat in a haystack in the sun and got covered in mites. I’ve lay for hours and been soaked up by the whole of Mounts Bay, on the clearest ever, hottest ever, hottest ever day. Walked home at midnight from to Camborne from Hayle, met a girl in Redruth and another in St Just, got drunk in Crantock, earnt a wage in St Ives ‘ saw a dream in St Austell, learnt some verbs in Fowey… grew towards man from boy in Cornwall…
…only, they’re all memories.
I return and see the most rugged of faces smile and share the day like children returning to play, waves so worn from years of scorn, skies so blue they seem brand new. A scarred town refuses to frown, yet sings and raises its glasses, everywhere I look I see me and I see pasty smiles, rugby miles, unique Cornwall style saying this is us but we do say we.
I’ve moved away now, don’t know why, but I know I can’t go back. Jane’s not there, Craig’s gone, David’s moved off, So has Jon. Matthew’s in Manchester, Lisa’s in Suffolk, Richard’s in Cardiff, Kay’s in Bath, Lee is in Luton and Mark is in Crewe, and I’m in Leicester for something to do. Cornwall, in essence, has everything, God and the Devil are surely within. but it hasn’t got what I’m looking for. . . . what am I looking for?
I’m going outside and I may be some time…

I caught a podcast recently where Ernie Rea and his guests discussed “Pilgrimage”.
‘Beyond Belief’ BBC Radio 4 : “Every year more than 100 million people around the world go ‘on pilgrimage’, the biggest mass migration of people on the planet. Two and a half million Muslims visited Mecca for last year’s Hajj and over 600,000 visited Graceland to worship at the shrine of Elvis Presley. Is there something in the human psyche which seeks fulfillment from… [pilgrimage]?”

I understand pilgrimage to be: a journey outside the norm or an escape to something significant – typically aiming for a place of importance central to or ‘at the heart of’ a person’s world view. A seeking to discover, understand or be healed? The ‘quest’ is sometimes linked with oracles and finding a source of counsel or understanding. It would seem this is a common human experience that has been specifically studied and written on widely.

To venture outside of the norm…
I read books to discover? escape? understand?
I watch films to discover? escape? understand?
I listen to music to discover? escape? understand?
I sing and play music to discover? escape? understand?
I cycle to discover? escape? understand?
I surf the web to discover? escape? understand?
I imbibe festival and celebrations to discover? escape? understand?
I wander the countryside to discover? escape? understand?
I feed the birds and talk to my pets to discover? escape? understand?
I live to discover? escape? understand?

Most weekends we have a holiday “Holy Day” where we make an effort to do something to discover, escape, understand or experience something out of the ordinary.
Are we ourselves on an ongoing macro-(micro?)-pilgrimage to the outside?

I wonder as I wander… outside for sometime…

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Ignorance is bliss

In the handmade gaps within everyday-life, I’ve recently been in Africa, both ancient and modern.  I’ve been escaping into another world created by Wilbur Smith.  I’ve read most of his books, OK they may be a tad shallow but hey they’re entertaining and exciting.  (I s’pose his reads are rather like a dream, detailed and gripping, but without sub-conscious / substance…  I had a corker last night, but that’s another story).  I am still away with the pharies but hope to finish this current dalliance soon.

While commuting recently, passions were again stirred (*trying to not get agitated again*) by other road-users’ *@%”$* ignorance.  As you’re probably aware it was recently very foggy –  the number of vehicles without lights on at 8am on fog-bound country roads was ridiculous!  Combine that with people driving while speaking on handheld phones, again on fog-bound country bends – ignorant!  I’m not going to get into the 5% of vehicles that don’t allow due-room for cyclists while passing them – inconsiderate and dangerous.  Unless I’m mistaken, ignorance is a key trait here.
I have recently been pricked by the proverb “ignorance is bliss” and (again) the idea of “opiates” (in the sense of anything that causes dullness or inaction or that soothes the feelings).
Indeed, we all too readily ignore that which is beyond our perception or conception. We all enjoy a moment of bliss?
I believe the phrase “ignorance is bliss” originates from eighteenth-century poet Thomas Gray’s “Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College”  where he plays with ideas of innocence and adulthood…   “Where ignorance is bliss, / ‘Tis folly to be wise.’”
Other learned quotations:
“The happiest life consists in ignorance, Before you learn to grieve and to rejoice.”
“From ignorance our comfort flows, The only wretched are the wise.”
“Since knowledge is but sorrow’s spy, ‘Twere better not to know.”

I find that music, food, art, knowledge and other opiates  (as well as coffee and cheese) can all be stimulating and creative, however they can also act as a distracting eclipse and induce ignorance.

The ignorant might excuse themselves with the notion of innocence?

Ignorant? innocent? bliss? contentment? enchantment? joy? beatitude? well-being…

Heaven help us all!?

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‘Birdsong’, ‘The Tree of Life’ and ‘April Fool’s Day’…

Love, life and the futility of trying to own your love, your life…

‘Birdsong’, ‘The Tree of Life’, and ‘April Fool’s Day’… 

Well what can you say? That’s why art exists to hint at what it’s hard to say or hard to truly conceive of.

‘Birdsong’ BBC,

I read ‘Birdsong’ by Sebastian Faulks a good few years back now while quite ill and dosed up on strong pain killers – the experience was far more intense as I was just laid-up in bed and ‘living the read’, I recall that the drugs just made it all the more vibrant!

As you  might expect, the book differed, was much more intense and the story was much more involved than the TV adaptation.

One of the whisps* that I took away was the constant juxtaposition of hell and heaven. In many ways it played with loss and ownership, freedom and control, heaven and hell etc… and of course passion. Personally I did not engage with historical detail however the resonance of the tragedy of war rang very loud. (When the film ended and minutes later the BBC news showed explicit reportage film of current war elsewhere in the world, life did momentarily seem ridiculous and hopeless!

For me, amongst other things, alas it was about love, life and the futility of trying to own your love, your life…

‘The Tree of Life’

I watched ‘The Tree of Life’ the night before and I guess that’s coloured my wondering…

‘The Tree of Life’ starts and ends with a mysterious, wavering light/flame flickering in the darkness. It seems to be underpinned with a quote: “people must choose to either follow the path of grace or the path of nature”. Again I felt it was juggling freedom and control, choice, construction and creation…

It represents nature/creation against man’s efforts and constructions. It juggles gentleness with strictness, and wonder with discipline.  It represents memory and relationships.

Again I come back to love, life and the futility of trying to own your love, your life… ?  amongst other whisps*:

‘April Fool’s Day‘

Merge the above with my recent reading of ‘April Fool’s Day‘ by Bryce Couretnay.

I can’t can’t comment much on this read – it’s seeped into my being – but was an amazing read.

I recall the quote ‘…more than the heart, the bowel, the knee joint… …more than flesh and blood…” 

Courtenay has been a  favourite author of mine since reading “The Power of One” in my 20s. Poor film, great singing, great Book.

“April Fool’s Day” is an altogether different read; a true and rich account that naturally still emits the character of BCs world. In the end, love is more important than everything and it will conquer and overcome anything. Bryce’s son Damon Courtenay died on the morning of April Fool’s Day. In this tribute to his son, Bryce Courtenay lays bare…

Quite unlike any book I’ve read before!

Again I hear whisp*ers of love, life and the futility of trying to own your love, your life… ?

*whisps – my intangible and imponderable but pervasive semi-thoughts… ish…

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Birdsong.

“There’s nothing more sir, than to love and be loved”

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In the shelter of each other…

It is in the shelter of each other that people find sanctuary.

My attention was recently drawn to the above adaption of the Irish saying, “It is in the shelter of each other that people live”
For me, it’s often an opportunity to relax that brings on a longing for sanctuary.
“Oh please no,” I hear you say, “not again.”
Yup, that’s what I say too!
Trying to describe feelings or thoughts really is counterproductive, it’s sometimes just to heavy to conceive. There’s no specific challenge to be accomplished, but just a frustrating void of failure and sense of unworthiness – I’m not going into that now.
“Oh stop mawdling in misery and count your blessings, you don’t know how lucky you are – you’ve never had a hard day in your life, get over it loser.” I hear some say.
I actually find that no logic, arse-kicking or backslapping makes much difference.
I hate the idea of labelling myself and really don’t want to live up to expectations… But in 2010 I was diagnosed with serious depression.
Although it is not fully understood what causes depression, an imbalance of chemicals in our brain is thought to be a factor. The SSRI drug that I have been taking for a year now, works by regulating the levels of a chemical called serotonin; this eases the symptoms of depression and feelings of panic.
Even after taking Citalopram for a few days, it significantly transformed my mood and attitude – this was after months of serious symptoms and concern. After a season, I stepped off the dose but after a fortnight symptoms reoccurred and GP suggested continuing with a reduced dose.
And so a year on and I wish I was not taking tabs but I am. I still sense the need for a wet fish and a coffee.(notes)
I do wish I could move away from the need to disconnect, but without the shelter of others disconnection is just a way of finding sanctuary.
No man is an island but without a means of shelter my island’s sanctuary is at least a pale vapid something.
I’ll try to keep an eye out for the passing Good Ship Sanctuary.
(Learn to swim boy!)

(Addition; just watched ‘bird song’, that throws a whole new spanner in the works.)

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Elephant Juice

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Elephant Juice

As a teenager, I watched the Royal Institution Christmas Lectures. This is a tradition I try to keep up each year. It’s a bit like reading Usborne Guides for children; entertaining, bite-size, palatable info that I find much easier to swallow.

This year the RICL was about ‘the brain’, and was entertaining as ever. It reminded me that “what we perceive” is but a subjective notion and that what others perceive might be similar but not the same. In fact what we conceive of seeing is sometimes at odds with what was ‘true’… A minefield I know! …but fun!
It illustrated that our brains ‘memorise’ (encode) stimuli, map patterns, and retrieve or create perceptions etc. (neural activity, chemicals, electricity).
Take a look: http://richannel.org/christmas-lectures-2011-bruce-hood–whats-in-your-head
It was fascinating to observe visual illusions that illustrated the limits of our visual perception.
That we only clearly see a visual tunnel of a few inches at a time and via stepped saccades we build up our idea of what we’re experiencing. The Change Blindness illustration was enlightening: http://youtu.be/ImQFQj6yvVE?t=32s

And so we are what we think and we think what we are… the paralysis of analysis – my Achilles heel.
And so… thankfully, enter the conciliating creations of myth, song, fable and assurance.
The logic is fair enough and indeed wondrous, but I also wonder what we might do if it were not for the colouring, soothing, palliative artistry that culture, art, nature, and meaning give us.
Without my dose of coffee, cheese, music, fiction and wonder, I would be more lost that I am.

Turn to your friend and silently mouth the words “elephant juice” to them while they watch you… what do they see you say?

Thank ‘heavens’ for mystery.

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More Seasonal Sounds…

Further to the post last month: …Good Old Sing 

Some great audio recordings with videos have been posted to YouTube of a few of the other songs in the concert. Well done all!

And a big thank you to Keith Tonks and Steve Johnson for compiling them!

Global Harmony is a mixed a cappella world music choir based in Melton Mowbray, UK.

If you fancy it go and join them!

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“more than the heart, the bowel, the knee joint… …more than flesh and blood…” ?

"more than the heart, the bowel, the knee joint… …more than flesh and blood…" ?

I’ve recently finished reading: "April Fool’s Day" by Bryce Courtenay.

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He’s been a favourite author of mine since reading "The Power of One" in my 20s.

"April Fool’s Day" is an altogether different read; a true and rich account that naturally still emits the character of BCs world.

In the end, love is more important than everything and it will conquer and overcome anything. Or that’s how Damon saw it, anyway. Damon wanted a book that talked a lot about love. Damon Courtenay died on the morning of April Fool’s Day. In this tribute to his son, Bryce Courtenay lays bare…

Quite unlike any book I’ve read before!

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Time to snap?

Had to stop and snap the sunrise.

Thankfully the sun rises (or the UK turns in view of the sun) each morning. It also sets equally regular.

Here in the UK, energy is given and time to rest is given. The weather and clouds might confuse matters at time but it’s still there.

It was once written:
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to   be born   and a time to   die, 
   a time to   plant   and a time to   uproot, 
a time to   kill   and a time to   heal, 
   a time to   tear down   and a time to   build, 
a time to   weep   and a time to   laugh, 
   a time to   mourn   and a time to   dance, 
a time to   scatter stones   and a time to   gather   them, 
   a time to   embrace   and a time to   refrain   from embracing, 
a time to   search   and a time to   give up, 
   a time to   keep   and a time to   throw away, 
a time to   tear   and a time to   mend, 
   a time to   be silent   and a time to   speak, 
a time to   love   and a time to   hate, 
   a time for   war   and a time for   peace... 

Hummm….

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I was lost, but now am found

“I was lost, but now am found” said my banana.
(pronounced in the Cornish manner ba-na-na, with the ‘a’ as in jam)

The mystery of the lost banana was solved this morning, as mid-commute I spotted it lost and forlorn on the wayside. It must have dropped out of my pannier yesterday!  I got to work convinced that I packed it and was baffled by its desertion.

I muse that:

We guide our baggage through both well and less travelled pathways…

We believe that we packed the baggage, we control the tiller… and know the map…

We are ‘guided’ by soft hegemony and cultural info-tainment…

But still our banana’s can fall from our backpacks and confound, amaze and hopefully cause us to reassess our predicament?

However, I am still blind I see.

PS. Today’s banana was energizing.

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