Needing Help

My wife is supposed to be spending a few days doing work online while we are away in the Netherlands. We’ve been on a very special journey, which you too may have experienced. It involves trying to sort out the technical problems which need to be overcome to make this sort of thing happen.

You’d think, in this day and age…….etc, etc … your call is important to us … failure to listen…. two years later… solution not found….blah, blah, blah.*

Why is it that our/your/my particular issue is the one that nobody ever in the history of anything has ever experienced before?

Or is it, as they say, just us?

It’s not just us.

But it is true that many people, even in their area of expertise, struggle when everything isn’t exactly the way they think it should be. And so we end up with customer service peeps berating you, the customer, for being wrong.

We’re not wrong. We’re just ignorant in this particular area, and we need help.

And when the boot is on the other foot, this may be true of people looking for help from us.

Not wrong. Just Needing Help.



* This song is definitely “hammering the hook home”. 600 million views suggests we shouldn’t knock it. And maybe this isn’t the kind of song we want to write…but the primary lesson it offers…keeping things as simple as possible … should generally be on the list of songwriting “Things To Do”.

The Jigsaw Puzzler

Not everything is significant.

Some things, like dust, just exist. And some things we do fall into that category too. They have no impact on the world. We all shed a lot of dead skin during a lifetime.

I’m going to blow the songwriters trumpet here though. A song is significant. It matters. It adds something of substance to the universe. It has an effect.

And now to snatch that trumpet away (hopefully to be returned) before it has barely parped a parp…

…because writing a song is like producing a single piece of a universal jigsaw. On it’s own it is clearly “something”. It is clearly significant, and has a place in the Big Picture. But it is very hard to say what part that is. And the songwriter (none of us) is putting the jigsaw together anyway.

Some pieces of the jigsaw, some of our songs, might merely represent another piece of the endless blue sky. Good luck with THOSE pieces Mrs Jigsaw Puzzler! They are all, never-the-less, a necessary part of the whole.

Other pieces might have more recognisable features. Pieces that She will know straight away where to place. Perhaps the head and wings of a soaring eagle that fits nicely onto the backend of another piece. Those are the songs we really want to write, of course. Those are the significant actions we want (or possibly our egos want) to add to the world.

Anyway, these acts of significance, whether they be songs, or moments of kindness, a job well done, or anything that matters … though they be tiny … well, they really do matter.

We are obviously not even going to see the final jigsaw. If it ever is final. But, heavens above and hell below, these sometimes feeble attempts to make or do something beautiful are each, in their own way, a definitive part of the whole.

So why not choose, and carry on choosing, as far as we are able, to produce pieces of significance in our lives. Pieces that The Jigsaw Puzzler can use.

I Didn’t Want To

We’ve discovered some photos of my step-father-law, Gerrit, who recently died, climbing Lion Mountain - Singha-gi-ri - in Sri Lanka. He did this a few years ago on a travelling adventure with my wife’s mum, Gerrie, while they were in their early seventies.

The reason those pictures of Gerrit are of particular interest, is that I turned down the opportunity to climb that same mountain when we were visiting Sri Lanka last year, to celebrate my son Joel’s marriage to Tharushi.

I’ve not got a great head for heights, and even though I do try to face challenges that scare me, at the time I didn’t feel the inclination. More specifically, I Didn’t Want To feel the inclination.

But seeing Gerrit, who I’ve written a yet unrecorded song about, being completely the incredible guy he was (and effortlessly making local people laugh in the process, despite the language divides) has encouraged me to give it a go, should I get the chance again.

Which is quite likely at some point, as we’ve got an ongoing invitation to visit.

That is all.

New Life

It wasn’t just Romie’s birthday yesterday was it?

It was also her mums. Her mum gave birth to her on that day, 3 years ago. It’s a shared Birth Day. More memorable for her mum in fact, than for Romie herself.

There are many of us who have never given birth to new life. Some of us because we can’t, some of us because we choose not to, and some because the time hasn’t come yet.

Having witnessed the experience on several occasions, from the outside looking in, it appears both magical and mysterious and, at the end, almost savage. Of all the imaginings that can be imagined, to be pregnant and give birth is one of the hardest to imagine.

But we can all bear New Life in our own ways. And we will need a lot of the same qualities which a mother needs -patience, love, endurance, and hope.

New life is both inevitable and it is a choice.

But when that new life is finally born, it will be out of our control.

Even if we try to persuade ourselves otherwise.

Too Much Inside

It’s my granddaughter Romie’s birthday today. She’s three, and a beautiful little lady, who takes her duties of care for her young sister Caya very seriously.

And she knows her own mind.

Which is a useful knowledge to have, but also a knowledge that we can somehow manage to lose.

Maybe there is just Too Much Inside of there to know, after a certain point in time. An ever increasing life time of memories and experience.

Which is perhaps why our subconscious mind pushes forward all sorts of things that we might need to address, right here and now.

We get into the habit of avoiding that knowledge though, through distractions and the next activity, because it doesn’t always make sense, or seem important, or is simply too painful or shameful to look at.

I think I’ve been doing that for years, and I’m learning to spend more time studying the library that has always been there, and has always been mine. My own mind.

What’s happening in there?

I know, it’s a scary thought.

But hey, you’re reading this blog, so kudos to you for your bravery and sense of adventure.

A Fresh Start

Beneath the skin.

There’s something there for sure. There is a reason you did that and not this. There is something causing that feeling of…expectation, or guilt, or pleasure, or sadness, or worry, or restlessness, or boredom.

It’s helpful to look closer, and more clearly, at what makes us who we are. Then maybe we can be kinder to ourselves. Because there is, whisper it, a sort of inevitability to where and who we are right now. A path that brought us here. One which we cannot change, and perhaps never could.

That thought might, but shouldn’t, lead to a sense of helplessness - “If ME is inevitable, why bother?”

But why not choose instead to have a wee bit of compassion for this person, YOU, who has developed into…well, THIS. Give them a bit of leeway and suggest, very simply, that whatever has happened, now there is an opportunity for a new beginning.

Nothing to stop them moving in a better direction. Nothing tying them down to the ticks, and triggers, and habits, that came before.

A Fresh Start isn’t just another nice idea. It’s a fact to be embraced, no matter how many times we “mess up”. Or “succeed”.

Good Culture

Creators value freedom. The freedom to wander away from the path. To plot our own route to the destination.

But no one likes to be lost. Or, more accurately, to feel lost.

One of the wonders of the Netherlands are the cycle routes. The Dutch do routes in general very well. And not just the routes, but the rules about how to use those routes. If you know and follow the routes and the rules, it is very difficult to get lost in the Netherlands. It’s a fabric of the culture.

Ineke and I got told off by a horse rider once, because we had wandered off the “walkers path” on to the “horse riders path”. And in fact it is a common experience to be frowned at or berated for breaking a particular rule when walking or cycling or driving.

However good the rules are though, it can be a little bit tough if you don’t know them as well as other people do. And even tougher if you value the possession of an artistic license which allows you to mess with the rules a little sometimes.

It’s a conundrum. I value both the presence of good rules and routes and the freedom to ignore them occasionally.

This is the fine line we walk as humans who are still in the early stages of trying to create a Good Culture that both constrains us, when helpful to do so, but also provide us with the soul food of liberty which we hunger for, and that leads to so much innovation.

There aren’t any easy solutions. It’s a work in progress.

My Thang

Four great spotted woodpeckers, seven ticks, and a red deer.

Some of the highlights of my first morning walk back at our wee wooden house in the Netherlands. Ideally I would have spotted a Tickpecker too, but in its absence, Ineke got the tweezers out and dealt with that problem. So hopefully Lymes avoided this time, but a warning to be careful. Coz, as I have previously discovered, these Dutch ticks seem to carry more of that particular bloody cocktail than the friendlier Scottish variety.

In other unrelated news, I am not a guitar geek. Unlike some of my good songwriting friends. I’ve only had two “proper” guitars. And the very first of them is now left over here on a permanent basis. So it’s nice to be back with Simon and Patrick. He (They?) is different to Taylor… but does the main thing just fine: I have a music making instrument to hand.

It’s a bit of a necessity really. Though a little bit harder to do My Thang without disturbing family and neighbours.

Oh, well. Sometimes you’ve just got to be disturbing.

They Had A Point

It’s a very, very, mad world.

So said Tears For Fears.

They Had A Point.

And so did The Pointer Sisters.

I’m so excited.

In The Middle

Nihilism is mainly the belief that life is meaningless.

But does it really matter?

What is, is.

Our definitions are, in fact, more….”Is”.

And if this all sounds like codswollap, then we can enjoy that particularly view of things too. Even more “Is”.

So much to see, and think, and feel from every direction.

When we unravel the onion then we find that there is, in fact, nothing In The Middle. The good news is that there is so much joy to be found in the unravelling. And it all takes precisely the length of a lifetime to achieve the task.

I think life is full to the gunnels with meaning.

Are We There Yet?

Gone on the gun.
Pedal to the metal.
Zoom Zoom.
Boy racers.


Are We There Yet?

”No, we’re here”.

Always here.

Did it pass us by?

A Gut Feeling

I have a funny feeling that we (us, not you!) are going to be swept away over the next few days, to a land that is not this one, with a lot fewer hills, and a people who are very direct in their communications with other people.

It’s just A Gut Feeling.

Maybe I should ask my wife. See if she’s got the same inkling. She’s usually quite direct too. It’s probably a coincidence that she shares that directness with the people of this land I feel that we may well be visiting.

Anyway, wherever it is we might be swept away to, we (you and I!) can still stay in touch. That’s the wonder of The Interweb.

But what if The Interweb collapsed you ask?

Well…then we couldn’t stay in touch. I don’t know how we ever managed before to be honest.

Of course you and your existence, might also be merely a gut feeling. In actual fact, the reality is, I’m sitting here all alone, typing and, quite sadly, speaking some of the words aloud, as I write.

But even if all of this, even if YOU, are only happening in my imagination, I like it. It’s a strange magic.

Things That Don’t Exist

Did someone take something the wrong way and get a bad impression of Petit Moi?

Imagining they did only takes up unnecessary space, time and energy in my pea-wee brain. And unless and until they tell me, then there is nothing to be said, done…or thought… about it.

It’s nice not to be getting in a tiz about Things That Don’t Exist.

I wish I’d learnt that lesson a long time ago.

Bum, Bum, Bum, Ha, Ha, Ha!

Last night I heard a recording of a wee song written by the grandson of a songwriting friend. I’ve had similar experiences with my own grandchildren. It’s always refreshing to hear lyrics involving “bums” and “pooh”. Very under-rated subject matter in my opinion.

Songwriters often hear remarks like “I wish could play an instrument” or “I could never write a song”. And, yes, there is an aptitude that someone can possess for doing anything really. We’re all good at some things and not so good at others.

But most of us go through a right of passage known as “learning to ride a bike”. That’s not a natural skill. It involves learning certain techniques and a particular sense of balance. And yet most parents put their children through their very own “learning to ride a bike” course. Children are usually keen to take it. And most succeed.

I’m not suggesting that we should do the same kind of thing with playing an instrument or writing songs. But I think it’s useful to at least provide the opportunity. As noted above, children who spend time around songwriters don’t see it as anything other than a normal activity.

I once taught a lesson on songwriting in a local primary school, which was a wonderful experience. Perhaps we should give all our children that chance, before they get old and scared, and think that songwriting is only something The Gifted are capable of doing.

Who knows where it might lead? “Bum, Bum, Bum, Ha Ha Ha!”

It’s Not Funny

My sense of humour to me is completely normal. Normal I tell you. It makes me laugh. Yes, I laugh at my own jokes.

It’s always a little baffling when someone doesn’t get it. What’s that about? Don’t leave me stranded on this desert island, cackling into the ocean sky, like a demented Tom Hanks, with only a football to share the moment with.

But it’s not personal I know. It’s never personal. And some people are going to think I’m serious (which might mean they think I’m upset, needing comfort, or speaking literally, or simply plain mad) when in fact my tongue is firmly in my cheek.

It’s clear as daylight to me, but THEY can’t read the signs!

It’s Not Funny.

Screen Time

My Screen Time is up, according to the information on my screen.

That is never a good thing. Because looking at a screen is generally preventing me from looking at or engaging with anything else. And there is an awful lot of “anything else” out there.

Still….obviously there are plenty of things to look at and engage with on my screen too. Right now, for instance, I’m not just looking at the screen. I’m using it as a tool to engage with my own thought processes and to engage with you.

But.

But my time here, when it becomes a crutch more than a tool, seems to prevent me from thriving as the physical being which I am. And this screen is only ever a tiny step away from making the transition from tool to crutch.

Like you, I know what the answer is, but I don’t always do it. Or I slip back into old habits.

It’s perhaps one of the biggest 21st Century conundrums. This screen is not the simple stone knife invented by an ancient ancestor, useful for practical survival, and not much else.

This screen wants all of my time.

But I want to live a fuller life than that.

If It Works For You

Yesterdays blog and the song lyric, Start At The Beginning, was my very immediate reaction to author Steven Pressfield’s excellent short Youtube series, “Foolscap Method”, on how to start writing a novel, telling a story, or planning an idea.

It’s potentially very helpful advice for any creators. And it could easily be used for writing a song. Among other things Steven suggests starting with the ending. He suggests knowing the genre you plan to write in. Your theme. Your hero and villain. And other things that might seem obvious but are very clearly laid out with all the whys and wherefores spelt out, on one page of A4 paper.

It’s all very practical, sensible and wise. It’s good advice.

And I don’t see myself using any of it in my own creations anytime soon, even though I’ve flirted with similar concepts in the past. I flirted with it this time too, because it sounds like something I should do. But instead I ended up writing yesterday’s song.

The reason being that I enjoy the journey of discovering what the next song is about while I’m actually writing it. It’s really that simple. And whether or not I successfully manage to incorporate all the ingredients of a good song or story into my writing, the thrill of the ride, for me, decreases the more I plan it out.

And none of that is to say that YOU shouldn’t do it this way. I know lots of people who write brilliantly, that work in a similar way to Steven. Which why I recommend you take a look at the video series above. It might lead to a breakthrough in creativity.

At the end of the day, If It Works For You, do it.

But don’t worry if you don’t seem to fit into any of the conventions.

Start At The Beginning

Here is the lyric to a song wot I wrote yesterday. I obviously didn’t write Yesterday, which is a shame. But I definitely did write yesterday.

Start At The Beginning
Well you start at the beginning
You can’t say where you are going
Might be raining might be snowing
When you get around the corner

There is just know way of knowing
So I thought that I would warn ya

You might be losing, might we winning

Yes you start at the beginning
They say know your destination
And if you could read the map
Then you would probably know that

But you can’t even read your own mind
There’s a very good chance
You might be losing, might be winning
Might be losing, might be winning

Can’t get to the end
Before you’ve started
Can’t take the bend
Until you get there

So you start at the beginning
Which is where you are right now
You take a step
And then  you take another
Don’t wait for the gun
Just run my brother run

Might be losing, might be winning

But it ain’t a race
It’s a journey
And the journey ain’t done
Before it’s begun
You will face a lot of hurdles
You can still have  fun

Might be losing, might be winning
Might be losing, might be winning
Might be losing, might be winning        

Can’t get to the end
Before you’ve started
Can’t take the bend
Until you get there

Can’t get to the end 
Before you’ve started
Can’t take the bend
Until you get there

So you start at the beginning

A School Photograph

Out of the blue, somebody from my old school got in touch yesterday. I was sent a photo that I don’t remember ever seeing, of myself in the official school football team photograph. Yeah, I was exceptionally OK at football.

Apparently though, before my later physical exploits, I was a very gentle baby and toddler. Not very tough. Somebody who knew me back then, and heard about my later footballing “career”, couldn’t quite believe that I even played football. Let alone got into the school team.

And the me from then until now has undergone a million other unexpected changes.

How can we ever know the end from the beginning of anybody’s life. I’ve written songs for all five of my grandchildren, in which I try to grasp at some essence, some fundamental characteristics, of their early lives. It’s quite possible that, in the future, they and I will look back at these songs and hardly recognise the person described.

So it’s hard, but perhaps helpful, to approach our times with other people as though everything that has gone before in our relationships is as ancient as A School Photograph. As well as giving ourselves a chance each day to reinvent ourselves, perhaps we can give others, especially the people we are closest to, that opportunity as well.

Because even yesterday is history.

Lottery Of Life

Last night Ineke and I watch the sun go down over the Atlantic, on the longest sunlight day of the year, with the Island of Islay in the distance. As we watch, the seabirds start to settle for the night, apart from the Oystercatchers, who have always got something to pipe about, in their stridently musical way. The sea is calm. Time stands still. It is idyllic.

And this morning the sun is out and summer has begun. Although in truth it feels like it arrived a month ago. I am, without a doubt, one of the lucky ones. A billionaire in everything but the bank account.



And Today? Today I am not remotely needing to think about sharing a fishing boat with seven hundred and fifty other human sardines to get away from the land I called home.

I am not a woman, or a child, who is worthy, on that same boat, only of being crammed into the below deck spaces, like lower grade sardines.

I am not in fear of my life.

I am probably not about to die a horrible death.

This Lottery Of Life is all very sobering, and it is very hard to think about sometimes. Though survivors guilt doesn’t help anybody.

But keeping a little bit of a wider perspective, leading hopefully to a smidgeon of humility and a desire to make the most of anything and everything we experience, is probably a good thing.

The truth is, whatever is coming our way today, we are all, almost certainly, one of the lucky ones.