Seeds Of Kindness

I listened to a short podcast yesterday titled “A Golden Age For Arseholes”.

The even shorter version, in my words: our current versions of social media facilitate the promotion of nasty behaviour, and lead to those without scruples or empathy rising to the top.

It was quite a depressing listen to be honest. And its broadcaster, whom I respect greatly, and who doesn’t rant without reason, concluded that if things continued in this fashion, then truth itself would gradually become irrelevant.

In the face of this kind of scenario - and climate change is another - where there is a seemingly irreconcilable gap between an incoming tsunami and our ability to do anything about it, it is easy to despair. Or simply to stop caring.

And of course, you know, that is what the arseholes want.

For our part, we don’t need to give them the satisfaction.

And more importantly, in my helpless opinion, we should keep planting Seeds Of Kindness.

But with more urgency.

Always Somebody

The midges were out on my morning walk. I decided to avoid scratching which, as everybody knows, is not always the easiest task.

So I tried to reframe the situation, in a manner suggested by the Stoic philosophy, which contains a lot of very useful wisdom.

I brought to mind a terrible illness I’ve heard of, I can’t remember the name, where people are constantly losing their skin, and are in constant pain, to a lesser or great degree. I can’t possibly begin to imagine really, but as a result…

…my infuriating itches turned into:

- funny little tickles
- something that would pass by quickly
- a reminder of the wonder of being alive
- a sign of my luck and privilege

And here’s the easily ignored cliche. There is Always Somebody worse off than us. Somebody who would find our situation to be a pure delight or, at the very least, an improvement on their present situation.

Always.

The Man Glued His Hands To The Road

The Man Glued His Hands To The Road.

He did it because he believes the world is getting hotter, and more dangerous to live in, and that humans are responsible. That we need to be reminded.

He was clearly very committed and serious about that. And we couldn’t help but pay attention. But he pissed off loads of people.

The people who were pissed off were very numerous, and they said things like
- “his actions are going to make people want to damage the planet out of spite”.
- “he is messing up ordinary peoples daily lives just to be woke”

That first one seems like a massive, and some what stupid, over reaction. The second one is at least partially true. On the other hand Glue Man would probably argue that, if things don’t change, climate change will mess up people’s lives on a scale that makes his actions look like what they are - a man glueing his hand to the road.

I don’t know what I think about all of this.

On the one hand I’m with the glue fella, in the sense of, even if ALL of the scientists are wrong, it is clearly better that we live in a cleaner, less polluted world. And if they are right, we have got a lot worse things to worry about, than the convenience of our daily commutes.

On the other hand, he pissed a lot of people off, so maybe his actions are counter-productive.

I believe in doing things that work. It’s not always clear what does work though. But I do think, that if you believe something and you care you’ve got to at least try. I admire that in anybody, even if I disagree with them entirely.

But also, and this is really very important, it’s sensible sometimes to reflect and reassess the situation. Is it working?

It’s not always easy to know though.

Happy Days

A lovely time had yesterday at the Harbour Day in the village hall at Carradale. It was one of those events where things were happening round and about as the music played.

But I had dancers up at the front, and a great response. And I really enjoyed singing and looking over it all happening at the same time.

And there was a dog show afterwards, which made my mate and fellow performer Chris Annetts very happy.

Also I met a lovely lassie who can use the apples we’ve got in the garden, and turn them into apple cider! I tried some of the cider she’s made previously (smuggled into the event…shhhh!) and it was VERY good.

So, a result all round.

Happy Days.

That’s Weather For You

I’m playing Carradale Harbour Day this afternoon. The harbour is getting moved into the Village Hall. It will be a complicated operation I’m sure. But That’s Weather For You.

I played my first ever gig in Carradale at The Cruban bar about 26 years ago, in my early thirties.

I was a late starter, it’s true. Now I’m just about warming up into the race, and I’m looking forward to this gig.

Glad I put Swimming In The Rain on the set list….

Looking Into A Hole

Four workmen Looking Into A Hole.

Is that the same as Four songwriters standing around trying to decide which specific adjective, or chord change, should be used in the song?

Or is it something else entirely?

It’s a mystery that may never be answered.

In Other News
I mentioned that I had started writing a Homesong book. I am looking for willing victims volunteers to help me with a bit of feedback. Get in touch at contact@homesong.co.uk.

Thanks.

The Pass Not The Peak

I’ve been watching a video of a man walking a long distance path in Colorado, USA. That path covers great distances in mountainous areas, and has probably been around for a long time.

The thing I noticed was that the path invariably goes through the mountains by crossing over The Pass Not The Peak.

A pass is the American term for the dip, the low point, between two mountains. It makes complete sense that a path created by travellers over the years takes the simplest, and easiest route possible. When you’re walking or riding in order to get from A to B, as part of your day to day existence, why make things even more difficult for yourself?

Here in Scotland, munro bagging has become a thing. Which basically means attempting to climb to the top of the 282 mountains in this country which rise above 3,000 feet, or roughly 1000 metres.

And there is a sense of wonder and awe to be gained from standing at the top of the world, and looking down on everything. I slept at the top of a munro a couple of years back, and it was all that and more.

We need those moments in life, and it is good to set time aside to head for those peaks. But in day to day life, to achieve the tasks and dreams we have set ourselves, it is undoubtedly wiser to take the simplest and most straightforward path possible.

It can be a tough enough journey, without trying to climb every possible summit on the way. And the memory of the mountains we do climb, will always stay with us on the long trail.

Constructive Criticism

Criticising constructively is a hard skill to learn.

But if the criticism isn’t received it doesn’t mean you didn’t give it constructively and with care.

Because taking criticism can be hard too.

But if we don’t take the criticism on board it doesn’t mean it wasn’t constructive. Or that you were wrong to give it. Or that we were wrong to not take it on board.

Making things better is complicated. Not everybody wants to. And those of us who do don’t always, or even often, get it right.

Constructive Criticism is a valuable part of the process.

It takes practise.

So…does my bum look big in this?

Never Again

Every time I’ve moved house, or helped somebody else move house, I say “Never Again”. I’ve done one or the other of these things over thirty times.

But there always seems to be another Again.

In fact I should be very grateful for the health and fitness to be able to do this. But eventually it will stop, and Never Again will be carved somewhere upon a stone, or upon somebody else’s memory of me.

For now the aim is to at least be able to move myself and other things until I’m well into my old age. And at my age it is wise to be putting some regular effort into keeping that possibility, as well as myself, alive.

I’m doing that as best I can. And though it’s nicer to be walking up beautiful hills and mountains, rather than dragging king size mattresses up three sets of stairs, in its own way, it’s all fun.

So don’t write my obituary just yet.

Have A Nice Day

I hope YOU are well.

This blog is written by me, and is often about me.

If you are reading this though, then you must feel some kind of connection with my experiences and my perspective on them.

But still. Your life is not mine. And I have either no knowledge, or, even if I know you well, only the merest flicker of an inkling, about how the world is looking for you right now.

I’m bringing to mind some of the faces that I do know, and who I know do read this blog. You are bringing a smile to my face, despite my ignorance about you and the goings on in your conscious mind.

And to those reading whom I don’t know at all … well, I wish I did know you. Maybe one day.

And, as they allegedly say in the U.S. of A….

Have A Nice Day.

A Peculiar Peace

A Peculiar Peace has descended. A respite from the tornado. But also an absence of a certain life force.

It has been great having the grand weans here, to the point where I have paid pretty much no attention to the Mull Of Kintyre music festival, which has been occurring here in Campbeltown this weekend. Some things will always be more important than even our most passionate of pastimes.

Anyway, there has been lots of music happening in our house. Me on the guitar singing away with, and to them. Them having a strum. Or producing lots of either completely improvised or very repetitive tunes out of the wee electronic keyboard. A cacophony of joyful noise.

Out in the street on Saturday, on the way back from the park on the seafront (Jock’s Boat) and after the obligatory ice-creams, we passed the local restaurant, Forty Two. 

My 8 year old grandson shouted out: 

“That’s the same as one of your songs, Opa” .

And that kind of recognition is more than enough for me.

Of Mice And Me

The Grand Weans have invaded.

…and this next sentence is being written after the kind of time gap that happens when five “8 and unders” (and their parents!) are in the house. Before that I’d been travelling up and down the land moving my old Pa into our esteemed establishments. His own private digs, within this very house, are not yet ready.

…Oh…another gap…. The electrician is just isolating a circuit.

So an anarchic kind of wonderful chaos is afoot. You will understand that this can have an effect on even the best laid plans Of Mice And Me. Yet, at some point, The Usual Routine will fold a calm blanket over everything. And hey, we can all appreciate that when it happens.

But there is, I’m pretty sure, only one life. And riding these kind of waves is an excitement that I definitely don’t want to wish away.

On that note, we’re just about to head off to the beach.

Might see you tomorrow…..

Heaven Sent

Just a head’s up today to my friend Norman Lamont who has written and recorded a brilliant album called Turn with his wonderful band The Heaven Sent. Highly recommended.

Norman is a few years older than me, but an inspiration in regard to the energy and creativity and musical curiosity he puts into everything he does.

I think he’s supped more than a wee drop of the Living Water himself, I would say.

Dad-Like

My Dad has moved in with us.

We drove up with him a couple of days ago and I’ll be heading back the 440 miles tomorrow with a van to collect the furniture and things that will fit into his new life here in Campbeltown.

It’s a big deal for him. But he continues to be very Dad-Like.

I wonder if I’m a constant “Dad-Like” to my boys. Not sure that I want to know. I like to think that I’m full of surprises. But possibly not.

Anyway, my apologies for the very recent lack of blog, and any more lack in the coming days. I’d like to keep at least some people in my life on tenterhooks about what to expect next though….

Fresh Out The Pack

I do sometimes wish I’d learn how to play other people’s songs, and wonder if I still should try. If I had a recommendation, aside from “write songs!” to young singer/songwriters, it would be just that.

Learn some covers.

The truth is that you won’t easily get a gig without them.

I didn’t really come to songwriting by playing other people’s songs. And every time I think about learning a cover these days I find that I end up writing a new song. Which then needs to be learned of course. I can’t even play the whole of my own catalogue. Not by a long stretch. So endeavouring to do that, is a never ending hamster wheel.

On the other hand….most writers don’t need this advice. Most are more in danger of getting stuck in the rut of singing covers and forgetting to write new songs.

And personally, as much as I love the old songs, I’d always plump for a brand new, Fresh Out The Pack, original.

Big Shows

I’m generally an evangelist for “Small Is Beautiful”. And I’ve never really been a big fan of “classical” music. But last night I watched a TV recording of a show by the very popular Dutch conductor and violinist, Andre Rieu. Mainly because some of my wife’s family had recently been to see him and his orchestra perform at the same venue in Maastricht, and were vouching for its brilliance.

It was big. But, despite my usual reservations, it was a very lovely thing. It visibly brought a lot of joy and life to many people.

Andre Reau’s gift is to prick the pomposity, and lift the life giving soul of the music out from the midst of something that must be a massive organisational effort. Not an easy thing to do, but he did it with aplomb.

I can get a bit sniffy about entertainment on a massive scale, films and music in particular, not because of their popularity, but because they often seem to be chasing the lowest common denominator down to the bottom of the well of mediocrity.

But when these Big Shows are done so well, and with such heart…well, I was won over anyway. I get it.

Say Something!

Have you ever tried to stop reacting.

To the trigger, that sets you off ranting, or moaning, or shouting, or whining, or ……

But it can be confusing for the person at the other end of this dynamic. They were, consciously or sub-consciously, expecting you to rant, or moan….etc. That’s what you ALWAYS do.

”Say Something!”

So it’s not just about not reacting. It’s about reframing our whole way of reacting. Which might be the reason we don’t often move out of those ruts we’ve dug for ourselves.

It takes time and effort to see the other person, and learn a new way of communicating

Never-the-less, putting a stop to the usual reaction, is still a start of the process.

Especially if at the same time we don’t try to deny the emotion that is attempting to force our hand, but simply let it fade away, deprived of the oxygen of conflict.

Am I Bothered?

Like you, I have things that I’m bothered about.

And like you, perhaps, I think other people should be bothered about those same things. You should be bothered about it.

But damn and blast it, you’re not! Which, quite frankly, is an insult to my sense of innate rightness. Am I Bothered? Yes I am!

You can’t stop me being bothered. But perhaps you could acknowledge it, without judgement. Whether or not I’m justified in my “bothered-ness”. It helps a bit when you do that.

We all need to be seen. And unacknowledged Bother can sometimes inflate to dangerous levels that can cause real, rather than imaginary problems.

It Won’t Last Long

I’ll be honest. You’re not in my thoughts a lot of the time. Whoever you are. Even if you’re my wife.

I know. It doesn’t sound very romantic. Or caring. It probably wouldn’t make for a very good song:

”Darling…I hardly ever….Thi-i-i-ink …..about you…..ooh, ooh, ooh….”

Yes pop lovers, that was It Won’t Last Long by The Every Bodies.

Even those things which we describe as our passions, even our obsessions, are only a brief flicker in the ocean of consciousness. Something, seemingly more mundane and less important, will soon jump in and say - “give me a little bit of your time”.

And we will oblige.

Realising this might be a path to holding on to it all with a little bit of a lighter grasp. Coz, it will soon disappear anyway.

So, what are you thinking about right now?

It won’t las….….ach, you know the lyrics already.

She Is The Song

I was as struck with awe as everyone else at the time, when I first saw the video of Sinead O’Connor singing “Nothing Compare’s 2 U” by Prince, on TOTP’s.

When somebody enters a song, when She Is The Song, so completely, it is impossible not to be moved or to remember. Even through a television screen.

I haven’t followed Sinead’s career closely since. Just been aware from a distance of the conflict and emotion she both created and experienced. She cared very deeply about truth, and that is something which is a lot rarer than it should be, once fame arrives. Fame clearly wasn’t something that brought her much joy.

You will probably know she died yesterday, aged 56, - two years younger than I am right now.

I didn’t know her, but like many, I know enough to feel both grateful for her life and sad for her passing.

Rest In Peace Sinead.