The Funk

I don’t go into The Funk that I used to on a regular basis.

But the last couple of days I did. Who knows where it comes from, but it settles, when it comes, like it never went away. In those moments, EVERYTHING seems too much. And I seem so weak and incapable in the face of it.

There were three things I could do that helped.

- Don’t push it away. Even if I can’t identify a direct cause, I acknowledge it, and let the tears come if necessary.

- Remember: this too will pass. Just as it has many times before. Like the weather. Don’t fight it. Experience it.

- And, finally, I do one thing. Just that. Keep it simple. The next thing and no more.

Set out like that it looks straightforward. Sometimes, if The Funk gets a grip, it’s hard to see even that clearly.

But like you, I want to be well. Like you, this is my mind, and my life - my responsibility at the end of the day, albeit that we take any help we can. And like you, the journey is messy at times.

When the going get’s funky, we dance to that funky beat.

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Find My Mojo

I haven’t had the urge to write a song in quite a while. In general I don’t feel so connected to my music making. Even the inclination to pick up my guitar and sing a song has receded.

I’m not sure why this is. I think, possibly, it’s to do with the fact that most of my music happens alone. As potential evidence for this, I still get a lot of satisfaction from my recording sessions with my co-producer Sam Hale.

Perhaps I just need someone to bounce off. I have generally found it easier, preferable actually, to bounce off myself. So to speak.

But now, less so. Maybe it’s a phase, or maybe I need to start a band, or find a co-performer, were that possible. Either way, a mild bout of creative musical lethargy exists right now.

I’m thankful for my twice yearly songwriting retreats with friends, because this always kicks me into action. And in the meantime, I do still make sure to play and perform when I can.

I could do with a bit more enthusiasm though.

I need to Find My Mojo.
(Possible song title there maybe…)

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It’s Just Me

The Snowdrop is my favourite flower.

For all the obvious reasons. Delicate beauty, flourishing in the midst of cold bleakness. Life in the midst of Death. The promise of Springtime to come. Being happily different from all the other flowers.

Small, determined, pugnacious strength, pushing through and announcing, without fanfare - It’s Just Me.

If I was in a war, I’d like to have a few snowdrop friends by my side. I would feel a lot more confident then.

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Mr Killjoy

Well, the nice surprise happened. It was better than nice (it wasn’t in Nice unfortunately… still in cold weather land) and certainly a surprise for the intended victim. Wonderful.

And then we move on.

We put a lot of hope in particular moments making life better overall. We might bask, for a while afterwards, in the sunshine of delight or achievement that accompanied these highlights.

And sometimes we even have to deal with disappointment. The hoped for highlight, for which we’d been planning for days, or weeks, or months, or years, may turn out to be some kind of let down.

Either way, the waiting and the hype and the moment - are all gone - in a moment. As the old proverb says: don’t throw all your stones at one egg in a basket. And you reply…”Thanks Mr Killjoy, I think I’ve got the message by now”.

Well good for you, because I need reminding daily. :-)

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Nice Surprises

I’ve got a secret. It’s a nice surprise for someone.

I can’t tell you what, because you just never know who’s listening. The walls have ears apparently.

It’s nice to have a secret, but not always easy to keep hold of it. I nearly gave things away a short while ago, but rescued it at the last moment.

Phew!

Even more Phew! because somebody else is organising the secret surprise. That would have been embarrassing.

There are nice surprises and unpleasant surprises in life. The first kind puts joy in our hearts and smiles on our faces. The second kind, not so much.

Let’s do our damndest to be the bearer of Nice Surprises.


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All The Light We Cannot See

Somebody I love got called a Nazi today, and was then sacked from their small “retired” employment job by our mutual employer.

That one sentence contains a lot to be unravelled. A lot to be worked out. It’s kind of connected with what I was speaking about in yesterday’s blog. And it’s not something I’m going to speak about in this blog in any detail.

Very recently, though, I watched a four part Netflix drama - All The Light We Cannot See - a moving story, about a blind girl, her father, and a small section of the French Resistance in St. Malo at the very end of the Second World War. There was a scene in which a French prostitute was speaking with her client, a German Gestapo officer. She expressed a wish to be helped because,

“When we are liberated, the people will drag me into the street and hang me, because I slept with you”.

Something like that was said. I’m recalling the scene from memory.

And I have had pause to ponder on how far we are all prepared to go to defend, or attack for, our principles.

Because last night I too slept with an alleged Nazi.


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Black And White

How far do we go with our principles?

Everybody we know believes or thinks something that we disagree with. Sometimes they believe something that we COMPLETELY disagree with. To us, it is the opposite of good. In other words, bad.

Sometimes, not always, our thinking, or theirs, leads to actions. Sometimes our actions, or theirs, don’t seem to match what they or we think. We think that, because they think something that we consider “bad”, they must be doing something bad.

But that doesn’t always happen either. It can get very confusing.

It is tempting to hunker down in our sense of certainty.

Of course we always think that we’re right. Doesn’t mean we are, but we always think we are. And so do they. We couldn’t live with ourselves without maintaining these paradoxical illusions.

The Truth is, of course, out there. There is solid ground to stand on, it’s not a myth. Right and wrong, facts and fiction, all exist. But they exist in a continuously changing world. They are hard to tie down. And things are almost never quite as Black And White as they seem, to our simple brains.

So let’s keep talking. The saddest thing in the world, in my fallible opinion, is when the conversation stops because of our immovable principles.

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Hidden Meanings

If you’ve written a song you may have had the experience of seeing, at a later date, something within the lyric which you hadn’t noticed when you wrote it.

I always think it’s good to aim to make the meaning of a song as crystal clear as it can be. And yet often I and other writers dive into our song creation trying to discover something, rather than to say something.

Anyway, there is always something opaque about “meaning” at the best of times. Think of a discussion or argument you’ve had. One in which you’re pretty sure you couldn’t have made a certain point any clearer. But still it remains beyond the understanding of your friend/spouse/child/parent/enemy.

We multiply the possibility for Hidden Meanings when we attempt to use poetic language. That’s a good thing as long, I think, as we aren’t pretentiously and consciously trying to do it.

It’s really just about being open. We won’t even know it happened when it happens. We can’t take credit, because we didn’t even know it was happening. Because our brains do their best work out of sight.

And I suspect we should probably write more songs which are open to interpretation. By our listeners and even by ourselves.

nb. As I sit here trying to edit these unpoetic words (which isn’t a bad thing) I’m left with the thought that sometimes, when the words are out there, we should just let them be.

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These Kind Of Days

Weather Report from Campbeltown: Cold, with a frozen scattering of hail. Careful walking conditions.

We have the magical Gulf Stream on the west side of Scotland, so not that many days at or below freezing. But I like it like this. The air is sharp, the skies are clear, and the birds are busy.

Nostalgia Report from Me: When I was growing up, there were a lot more of These Kind Of Days. I lived inland, in the midlands, towards the east, and away from that warmer Atlantic climate.

So of course, I have a natural affinity to something that was a part of my formative experience. That good old frosty winter weather.

But, you know me now. I’m all about Now. So when the nostalgia blows in, I usually just say hello, experience that warm glow for a moment, and then watch it blow right on by.

Whatever the weather.

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Our Mortal Eyes

The world was once very different.

The world was once very different, many times over.

20,000 years ago was very different. 20,000,000 years was unrecognisable to Our Mortal Eyes. (I’ve started another book, which has already got me hooked. Otherlands by Thomas Halliday).

It’s only from one tiny second, one tiny year to the next when, with our limited vision, everything looks familiar and, to an extent, comprehensible. Even then….

But it’s so helpful that some humans have been able to make amazing discoveries about the nature and history of our planet and our universe. It’s a big advantage for us modern day humanoids, even if only in our limited imaginations, to be able to stand back and look at the big picture from the perspective of vast distances in time. Or, as we gaze out into the universe, vast distances in space. And time.

I can’t comprehend it. I’m not a physicist, or any other kind of ist, in case you were wondering. But it’s worth at least trying to picture these enormities in scale. It’s both humbling and liberating. If we let it be.

Also, for those of us who are songwriters, there’s an awful lot of material out there. It can add a very interesting texture to our smaller scaler, intimate, human stories.

But don’t forget to breathe.

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Did I Pass?

Sultana Scones, with Butter, Strawberry Jam and a big (HUMONGOUS!) dollop of Cornish Clotted Cream.

(1) Very bad for your heart, and (2) only to be digested in the summertime?

Discuss.

In regard to part one. No, I feel great thanks.

And, in regard to part two? That’s another No from me.

Glad we got that sorted out.

Did I Pass?

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The Urge To Get To The Fridge

There is an apparent paradox when I say to myself

“This, here, now, is OK”.

What then is my motivation to move forward at all, to do anything, if what is here, right now, is just fine.

It’s not really a paradox at all though. Because the biggest part of what is here, now, is simply my inherent life. The drive to move forward and Live that we were all born with. We can’t escape it even if we try.

Even the couchiest, couch potato has The Urge To Get To The Fridge now and then.

To me - ”This is OK” - simply means that every urge to be somewhere else, doing something else (often surfacing in a form of subtle, or not so subtle, restlessness) should be as much subject to the gaze of my present awareness as anything else I’m seeing, doing, thinking, or feeling.

In less wordy terms, it’s become a case of simply slowing down and looking at whatever turns up in life, including my thoughts and urges. Not to judge. Simply to notice.

Life is, at the very least, a lot more peaceful this way. And meaningful too, I would say. It’s a better place from which to move forward.

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The First Domino

I sometimes hear kind words from people, about the words I write in this space I call Fee’s Blog. I very much appreciate and value them.

But here’s a secret. The blog writes itself. The words I write are like a line of dominos toppling, each one falling in response to the one that went before.

The First Domino fell at the beginning of time. Assuming that’s a thing. And here we are.

But no, that doesn’t mean that I feel helpless, or nihilistic, or that life is meaningless.

I feel free.

Of course that feeling of freedom may well, will almost certainly, itself fall. But it seems very much, at the moment, like that feeling will return at some point soon afterwards. The freedom itself is there all the time anyway.

It is as though the dominos have aligned in a good way. Actually, they were always aligned in a good way, I just didn’t see it.

So I shouldn’t try and mess with them really.

And the dark days and the sunshine seasons will continue. But the freedom remains to accept it all, and work with what there is right now, and what is to come. And right now I’m feeling that freedom.

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Undeniable

This is a great reflection on one motivation of many songwriter/performers: our often buried desire to create something that is remembered forever. Our own craving for immortality.

I love Gabe’s take on this. And the fact of the matter is that EVEN the people we think have achieved it, still have a shelf life. It’s physics mate. They too will be forgotten eventually. And if that wasn’t true, what does it really matter to them beyond their own time on earth anyway?

But for the rest of us…

Yes, let’s simply make something that has that Undeniable impact which Gabe mentions. It doesn’t have to last forever. It just has to…

-change something, even if it’s only ourselves
- release a teardrop
- start a dance
-or perhaps a romance
- spark a thought
- shine a little light.

That’s enough. We can do that.

ps. applicable to everyone, not just songwriters

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Entertaining To Watch

I was observing myself doing a morning exercise this morning, as though I was in a David Attenborough nature documentary.

Strange things we do really.

I bent one leg, and keeping the other straight, and pushing my chest out, I bent as far forward as I could go as I breathed out, and then, breathing in, back up again. And repeat that one ten times.

Looking in on myself as I did it, a smile reached my face. The craziness of it all. What strange paths of physics, chemistry, biology and evolution over billions of years, brought me to this place. Making strange movements in the dark of an early winter morning.

I get a buzz from watching a flock of flamingos marching in formation on the tv. Why do they do it? Or a troupe of monkeys performing acrobatics in the trees. Same with the antics of the creatures in our own back yards.

We are part of that whole scene. And most of the time we don’t even know what it all means.

But it’s Entertaining To Watch.

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Now It’s Gone

Suddenly an overwhelming sense of failure flooded me.

Now It’s Gone.

And that’s the story of every thought and feeling and sensation and imagining that happens inside my brain when I think about it. And yours too, I suspect.

From the darkest and most despairing. To the delightful. To the sordid. To the trivial. To the romantic. To the painful. To the erotic. To the joyful.

Till the end.

So…

…well, I’m not sure what my conclusion is today.

Should there always be one?

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What A Surprise!

What A Surprise!

The next thought I’m going to think? I honestly couldn’t tell you what it’s going to be.

And here it is. There weren’t even any clues. There never are to be fair. I could be in the middle of writing this blog and suddenly think…

…of pancakes…

Why? I dunno.

But here we are, another once in a lifetime opportunity to watch the amazing, never to be repeated episode of our own lives, appearing fully formed, but always changing, always unexpected, weirdly creative, and completely out of our control.

We, both the audience and the actors of our consciousness.

God knows who the director is. But this particular episode could have a bit of everything. You just never know.

It should be fun to find out. Flipping heck!

The Curlew

The Curlew is usually cautious.
She flies away swiftly on approach.
The flash of her white rump feathers
The long curve of her bill.

Maybe the winter has caused her to throw caution
To the wind.
Hunger overcoming fear.
Today she flew in and landed close by on the shore,
As I walked past.
And yesterday she was feeding
Among the oystercatchers on the grass.
I’ve never seen that.

If you don’t see her though,
By the seashore in the winter,
Away from the moors where she breeds,
Listen out for her call.

Plaintive, haunting, melancholy.
Beautiful.
A challenge to the throne
Of the nightingale
So they say.

Better than anything I could sing.

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Electric Assistance

I’ve just had the pleasure of presenting my lovely wife Ineke with her retirement present from myself and our boys. It’s an electric bike. And once I’d got it up and running, I had a go.

So I could show Ineke how to use it of course.

It’s actually quite amazing what a difference that Electric Assistance adds to the equation. In every respect it feels like riding a bike. But without a good deal of the effort usually involved. Great fun.

And, thankfully Ineke is delighted. Only trouble is I’m going to have a great deal of trouble keeping up with her when we go on our cycling journeys during trips to the Netherlands.

It is, to be fair, nice when something that was hard work becomes easy. Learning to play the guitar (or learning any new technique or skill) often feels incredibly difficult at the beginning. But if we push on through it becomes second nature.

In effect, we can evolve our own electric motors, just by practising enough. Cool.

I continue to practise writing and recording songs. It’s the fourth of the month, so here’s my 140th monthly release. See You On The Summit.

Happy New Year

Wishing a very Happy New Year to you and to yours.

The ironic thing about “happy”, of course, is that the more we chase it, the more elusive it becomes.

So let’s just celebrate This. The This we’ve got. The This we get. After, without, or despite all of our striving.

“Happiness” can and will arrive, a wandering butterfly, floating upon the breezes and storms of our variable days. Sometimes alighting on our palms. Sometimes seemingly far away. But in fact, always around.

We shouldn’t even try to grasp it or bottle it.

It will settle of its own accord, if we let it be.

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