Somebody Else’s Grief

I struggle with watching The News.

It’s almost always bad news. It’s been very bad over the last few days. And knowing everything about something we can do nothing about is not conducive to positive action or good mental health.

Seriously. What can each of us actually do to help the situation in the Middle East right now, other than take sides (amazingly some people use tragedy mainly as proof that they are right about this, that or the other…I’ve been that person and I never liked that version of myself) or make minor adjustments to our own viewpoints? Or perhaps put some coins in the particular charity box that is being thrust in front of us?

The News is almost always biased.

Hundreds or thousands of people losing their lives in one part of the planet is seen as more important than when the same thing happens in another part of the planet. For instance. Sometimes just one death in our part of the world, or on “our side” is seen as far more newsworthy than some tragic disaster, involving many times that number, in a far off place.

And we end up giving all of our emotional attention to the one tragedy at the expense of all the others that didn’t make the cut today. But those tragedies, however “small” or “irrelevant” or “far away”, still mattered just as much to the people involved. And in truth we are almost always very distant (i.e. we have absolutely no direct personal connection) from everything that we hear about.

When The News isn’t bad, it’s almost always trivial. Good news is treated as fluff. Something to give a bit of levity to the bad news. Not as a serious matter in itself. What does that say about our concept of the word “News”?

I’ve said all this before, in one way or another, I’m pretty sure.

Yet I still take the news, in all the many forms it comes at us these days, very seriously. And I’m trying to work out a reliable, constructive, and enabling way to digest what is happening in the world.

It’s a struggle.

For now though, I still don’t often watch.

But when I do I really don’t want to be the fella staring at the accident, goggle eyed, curious (nosy), helpless and slightly relieved that it wasn’t me, as I pass by Somebody Else’s Grief.

If I can’t help, it’s not helpful.

The Pressure’s Off

That sense of So Much To Do, So Little Time…

…another unhelpful myth I tell myself.

It’s really - Precisely Enough Time To Do Everything I Can Do.

Now The Pressure’s Off.

A Precarious Dance

Power.

Our electricity and gas here in the Netherlands are both off at the moment.

We are very often dependent upon the power that somebody else controls. On the way here we were caught in bad floods and got a flat tyre on a very long and wet drive south. We needed the power held by the Ferry owners and Green Flag to help us out.

We are dependent even as we strive for independence - the ability to control our own destinies and our own bodies. But we need other people. To help us. And not to take advantage of us.

And yet we don’t, or can’t, always trust that that will happen. Or not happen. Yet the power dance has somehow got us, as human beings, through to where we are today. It is A Precarious Dance, and it often causes us to feel, and indeed be, very vulnerable.

The only thing, the ONLY thing, that makes it work in the long run, is the kindness, empathy, and understanding that most of us bring to the dance, at least some of the time.

When the levels of those qualities drop, then things go awry.

But, unlike power, you can never have too much of them.

Hanging Over Me

This cloud Hanging Over Me…

the difficult situation imminent

or the bad thing that just happened.

They are, literally, figments of my imagination.

They may have happened in the past and they may happen in the future. But at the moment they simply exist in my head, to the extent, for a good or a bad vibe, that I allow them to.

A Daffodil In My Hat

I told somebody yesterday that I had only ever performed one cover song. I’ve remembered another. Actually it was the very first time I performed. Before I had even imagine or conceived of myself as a songwriter.

I was at college and performed, with A Daffodil In My Hat as a possible nod to Morrissey or something, John Denver’s, Take Me Home, Country Road. I looked very much like him at the time. So it was bit like “Tonight Matthew, I’m going to be….”. Before that was even a thing either.

I’m listening to it now just before we begin our journey to the Netherlands for our first proper holiday in 35 years without any lovely children and foster children.

It’s brought a dang tear to my eye.

The Freedom Of Now

We give a lot of weight, we often anchor ourselves, to the experiences we just had. Especially the ones that affect us in deep emotional way, whether positive or negative.

But often we wake up the next morning and, for a while, we’re not feeling the weight, whether good or bad, of yesterday’s experience at all.

It is as though nothing happened.

We’ve forgotten.

And then suddenly we remember and, if you’re anything like me, all of the emotion can come flooding back too.

But skip back a moment. Before we remembered, it was “as though nothing happened”.

And in fact, if we so choose, it can remain like that. Reality is right here, right now. We can begin again, because what is in our heads is all there really is.

Maybe we would find this ability helpful when it comes to letting go of the truly useless bad emotions and memories that can hang around and haunt us forever, if we let them. Instead, they can become the bare whisper of a cloud, which wanders into our conscience, and straight back out.

In fact that is what those memories and emotions really are, when we don’t try and fight them, or block them, but simply acknowledge them without embrace.

But it’s also just as helpful to take the same approach to the memory of good experiences. Clinging on to them, can also be a kind of prison.

Anyway, that’s what I’m finding. The amount of time I spend anchoring myself to anything that has been and gone, is time I don’t have to experience The Freedom Of Now.

Mercy And Grace

It makes a difference when someone tells you not to sweat it. When they just take you as you are, wrinkles and all. When they don’t judge.

It should be the default position for all of us, but still we quickly jump to the higher place (in our heads) and make our commentary on the world, other people, our friends, and our family, from there.

But truthfully, we are ALL down here. In the mud.

Nothing wrong with mud. It’s full of life. No need to distance ourselves.

From it, or from them.

Because we all got what we got, including the abilities and characteristics and environment as we grew to make the most (or not) of what we got.

In a very real way, none of us could be a different person than who we are right now. And even if we could have been…well, we can’t now.

So, yeah, a bit of Mercy And Grace to our fellow travellers. It’s worth passing some of that on. Thank you to those who do so for me.

I’d like to be a bit more gracious myself, sometimes.

ps. None of this, of course, means we shouldn’t help each other to become better versions of what we are now, in the future.

Also, today is the fourth of the month and here is my one hundred and thirty seventh Fee Comes Fourth song - The Lemon Yellow Curtains

I Just Told A Lie

I Just Told A Lie.

It was a white lie, but unnecessary, and I’m writing it down here, to examine the reasons more clearly. Actually, I can already tell you - there were no good reasons.

As you’ll see when you hear the story:

A plumber is here doing some work on my Dad’s soon to be new studio flat. He’s moved in with us (my Dad, not the plumber). The plumber happened to hear me playing and singing to the geetar yesterday, and later came up and said he’d heard this beautiful version of Amazing Grace on youtube, by a heavy metal singer. Said he couldn’t stop listening to it, and that I should. I said I would.

But he couldn’t wait. Later he brought in his phone and played me the link (you can listen above). So, it’s very good, and I said so, and that was that. But he mentioned that I should listen on a proper sound system.

So this morning I came into the kitchen and the plumber appeared, and the first thing he asked me was if I’d listened to the song on my sound system. Truth is I don’t have a “sound system”. I told him that truth.

And then I said “I listened on my headphones, though”.

But I hadn’t! What’s that about?

Well, I was suddenly in a situation where someone had an expectation, and my trigger reaction was not to disappoint them. No harm done perhaps. I’m a bit of a people pleaser. It’s got its upsides.

Never the less, it was, as I mentioned at the beginning, an unnecessary lie. And, to be honest, I’d rather tell the plain old truth in those situations, even at the expense of someone’s short term feelings.

That is the long and short of it. Thanks for listening. You’re a good therapist! Or priest! Or confessor! Or whatever the hell you see yourselves as!


postscript -Good news. I’ve just listened on my headphones. It was future truth. I was lost, but now I’m found!

By Hook Or By Crook

You may or not follow the song links I post in every blog.

Basically, I pick a phrase or word with potential from that days blog, and search for a song that contains them in the title. I try and find songs that I’ve either never heard before, or that are blasts from the past. Or both. And I generally try to pick something I like, at least a little bit. But sometimes a song that challenges me more.

Oh, yes, and occasionally, obviously, I pick my own tunes, being the narcissistic, highly market orientated, own trumpet blowing, man that I am.

I’ve enjoyed listening to (mostly) new songs in this way. If you don’t usually follow the link, why not give it a try.

And if you’ve got a song that you’d like me to promote, then get in touch, and I’ll find a way of fitting the title of that song into my blog. By Hook Or By Crook

Belonging

For a lot of people music is more about being part of a tribe. It’s not just about what music and artists you like. It can be just as much defined by the music you don’t like and the artists who make it. There can be a whole culture build up around these tastes.

This is often true for musicians themselves. Which I’ve never quite understood. Plenty of musician friends I know are in with the hating Cold Play/Adele/Ed Sheeran/A.N.Other crowd because…

Well, why?

Ostensibly it’s about the music… “It’s shite”.

I don’t buy that. I think it’s all about Belonging. Belonging to the group of people who define themselves by similar likes and dislikes.

I’m in a tribe too of course. We all are. Mine is called the “If I like the song, I don’t give a monkeys” tribe.

Come and join us!

Pushing On

I was playing at a regular monthly event last night, called The Gather, in Tarbert, Kintyre. It’s a lovely mishmash of creativity regularly featuring original songs, covers, comedy, poems, and stories. And every time there is a little je ne sais quoi.

Last night we had a small, local bagpipe band playing. I was sitting right next to the lead piper as he played, looking straight at the lead drummer, and got a new insight into the musicality and pure physical commitment involved in this kind of music. And, of course, of the loudness too. It was great.

I did two short sets. After the first one a lady called Jill Aven approached me and asked if it was possible to accompany me on her fiddle during my second set. She needed to retune, as my guitar is tuned a semi-tone lower than the norm, which she happily did.

And then she quite wonderfully added her magic to the occasion. Lots of laughter too. It was great, and without a moments practise, she managed to raise the level of my own music..

Jill is from Glasgow. I’m trying to get her and her family to move to Campeltown. It’s not a lot to ask! But she is keen on playing with me again, so hopefully that will happen.

It’s funny. I had one of those, thankfully rarer, moments earlier in the day, when I was feeling a bit low, and wondered whether I could be even bothered to drive the thirty seven miles up to Tarbert. Fortunately I was committed because I’d promised to take the keyboard of my pal Chris up in the car.

It’s always worth Pushing On, or being pushed sometimes, through all of those little valleys and troughs of life.

Hologram

This kind of technology is amazing. Absolutely amazing. And undoubtedly a part of our near futures. It’s worth watching if you’ve got the time.

Trouble is, Mark Zuckerberg, who’s Hologram comes over as a cool sounding, quite broad minded, wise techno guy, is also the man behind a social media experience that controls, with it’s self serving algorithms, whom we can speak to and who can speak to us, whilst at the same time constantly pushing all the stuff we should be buying or looking at.

He’s turned a format, that was initially brilliant for connecting with people, into a minefield that quite simply mines our data to earn money for the shareholders, with no concern for the quality of our experience while it does so. It’s the massive downside of the advertising model that governs so much of our online experience.

We still haven’t learned to use the technology we already have in an ethical way which really benefits us. At the moment it simply dominates our daily lives, for better or worse, and anything new and shiny looking is turned into a money spinner for big corporations, whose aim is usually to dominate us even more.

So forgive me if I’m a little slow to jump (or allow myself to be pushed) into the brave new world on offer, with a big smile, and a heart full of optimism.

We can’t completely avoid the path we’re heading down as a society, and it would daft to try. But we should fight, as much as we are able, to maintain our choice as individuals and to sometimes stand stubbornly outside the every increasing pursuit towards a technological progress that we have no control over.

The healthy synchronism of our digital and physical lives, spoken enthusiastically about in the video link above, should rightly be treated with a great deal of healthy cynicism.

The Start Of Something

When I sit down at ye old Qwerty Keyboard or with my beautiful Geetar (which I haven’t been able to play for two whole damn weeks! ) I often start writing the first thing that comes into my head.

It often leads somewhere. You’d be surprised.

But sometimes it leads nowhere.

At first, anyway. So I stop what I’m writing and start again.

Which is another way of saying that writing the first thing that comes to mind ALWAYS leads somewhere eventually. At the end of the day, the first thing that comes into our heads will, if we allow it and don’t give up, become The Start Of Something.

Quite Amazing

“I’m old enough to remember”…

…that makes a fella sound…old.

But I am. Old enough. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.

I’m old enough to remember when you sat on a long bus journey and had quite a lot of choices of things to do.

You could look out the window, you could daydream, you could read a book, you could chat with someone, you could eat your sandwiches, you could smoke a cigarette.

You could do all of those things. But what you couldn’t do was write something down, click a button, and send what you had written out to be read, immediately, by the whole of the big wide world. If they happened to be interested.

And, because I'm old enough, that still seems Quite Amazing.

Normal Life

Normal Life.

A very occasional change from that weird, chaotic, unpredictable, funny, sad, beautiful, confusing life that we live the rest of the time.

And Now This

I have a bit of free time.

Free time has been in short supply for the last 10 days. And the nature of this job means that, in addition to the lack of time alone, I have to put aside my own decision making processes, my own autonomy, and simply be the help that somebody else needs, when they need it. It’s hard to explain, but it’s a different dynamic to most other kind of jobs.

But for now I’m free, my own boss, and I must decide what to do.

A different kind of problem.

The truth is though, that I was, I have been, I am, at liberty the whole time. It really is a mentality of seeing the present reality and accepting it for what it is. Being “free”, or seeming to be free, is not the issue.

Rather, it is a case of…

This is my present experience.

And Now This.

30 Minutes

30 Minutes before the deadline.
I’ve written songs in less time.
Should be fine.
And if not
No one will die.

30 minutes before the gig.
I’ll probably live
To tell the tale.
And if not
I’ll probably die.

30 minutes before I send
Myself and you around the bend
Then the beginning of the end
If not
The End.

Hello Again

To summarise:

- Bitten to within an inch of my life by the midges and mosquitos of The Vendee
- Thunder storm, leaky tent and sleepless nights
- A thousand miles of driving
- Perfection and tranquility in the Dordogne
- Power cuts and electric wheelchairs
-Mussels, Frites and White Wine…mmmmm.
- Cold swims first thing in the morning before work.
- Catching up with an old friend who is also my boss for now.
- Missed blogs
- September Sunshine….mainly.

Hello Again.

Helper

I’m camping in France. It’s hot.

I’m working.

A while ago I had a call from an old boss, to see if I could come on holiday with him and his wife. Many people refer to the work I’m doing here as caring. He refers to it as helping.

About thirty years ago I worked for him as a “Helper” for a few years. He taught be everything about the difference between being a carer, and being a helper. Because he didn’t want somebody to look after him. To care for him. He didn’t need somebody who knew what was best for him.

He wanted somebody to help him do the things he needed to do during a day, in order to run his business and live his life.

And I learnt, back then, that despite the fact that he had a masters degree and his own business, it didn’t count for much in many folks eyes when there was somebody pushing his wheel chair. To many people who passed by the lackey, me, was still the one to talk to. It still makes me cross now.

Anyway, it’s nice to catch up with Paul and his wife again. Laughing about the old times - I actually went on honeymoon with them you know (but that’s another story) - and the new times.

We’re camping in France. It’s hot.

And I’m working - trust me I’m working - whatever Ineke and my foster boys think.

The Scape Goat

A scape goat isn’t faultless, just because they’re The Scape Goat.

But it’s one of the cruelest things that groups of people do to an individual, and one of the saddest reflections on human society when it happens.

Nobody deserves, or should need to receive, the blame for everything. Not a goat, nor a son of god, nor a president, nor you or I.

It’s NEVER that simple.

And how insecure and fearful are we demonstrating ourselves to be, whenever we join in that kind of ritualistic destruction, meted onto some poor human soul, because our tribe (whoever they may be) has deemed somebody to deserve the role.

Kindness isn’t weakness. It’s the strength to stand against the nastier tendencies of our own side.