Get The Sparks Flying

I mentioned that recently I had been struggling to get inspired in a songwriting sense, and in music generally. I’ve started doing a few things to Get The Sparks Flying.

Firstly, after many years of threatening to, but never really doing so, I’ve started to learn to play a couple of songs that I really like. I mean ones that I didn’t write. And then the plan is to learn more, and make them a small part of my repertoire when I gig. One of those songs, I kind of already knew, and I may even have played once. A cracker of a song by Christie Moore called Ride On. The second one is another love song, also one of my favourites by The Beautiful South called Prettiest Eyes.

I’m late to the party when it comes to singing covers, but the time feels right.

Secondly, I’m learning a new strumming/picking technique. I did the same a couple of years ago and wrote a song using that technique called Holy Water. The plan is to do the same with the new technique. I certainly haven’t mastered it yet, but I am at the point where I can start singing over it while I play. That gets the juices going.

Finally I’m taking part in a wee Songwriting Circle organised by Forest Of Songs and its founder Cecily Pearce. Cecily, I know, will get the ball rolling properly and (I’m just mixing and murdering a few metaphors to warm up) hammer the final nail in my apathetic coffin, putting an end to any songwriting malaise I’m suffering. (ps. The start date has changed to the 26th Feb if you were interested in joining the fun).

None of this is rocket science of course. And, sometimes, all ya really need is ye goode old fashioned kick up the arse!



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I Woke Up One Day

Had a lovely talk about Determinism with one of my sons on Skype last night. As you do.

But …as the old joke goes … I was bound to say that.

Not many people are enamoured by the idea that, even if, in one sense we are capable of making voluntary actions, we don’t actually have free will - that there is an inevitability to everything we do. It’s an even less popular concept than trying to take “God” out of the equation.

On the surface it seems to go against our intuition, and how we feel that we operate in day to day life. But in practise, even when we “decide” to do something, that decision is simply the last domino to fall, in a long sequence of dominos that go back to the beginning of time. If there is such a thing. And we didn’t have any control over any of those dominos if we are honest.

It’s fine to say “I could have done that, instead of this”. But I didn’t. I did this. And I have, again if I’m honest, absolutely know idea what particular thought, movement or sensation is going to step to the front stage of my consciousness in the next instance.

An interesting thing happens though, if we take Free Will out of the equation. We can’t help but develop more compassion for ourselves and for everybody else in the world. Including the Bad Buggers.

”Yeah, but I want to FEEL better than other people. I want to take credit for my achievements. I want my hard earned status (!???) and sense of superiority”.

But I discovered, when I Woke Up One Day as a Determinist, just as I woke up one day not believing in God, that the world didn’t fall apart. Instead it opened things up a little bit more. I was still the same person with the same desires and motivations. I still wanted to develop good habits, make the most of this life, and live as though other people’s lives mattered.

But I was able to do so with a greater sense of wonder, and a great deal more inclination to feel forgiveness and understanding for everybody. Including myself. Just the inclination I should add. But also a new readiness to start again pretty much immediately, when I failed.

It’s a hard idea to get the old noodle around, and a little bit discombobulating at times. And it undoubtedly raises lots of relevant questions. But I’m finding it quite liberating. And actually, I can’t see things any other way now. The fact that my life is inevitable, doesn’t steal the pleasure away. It’s just a different, and uncluttered way of seeing.

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Neural Shorelines

Wasting time trying

To lift huge boulders lying

Stranded on these Neural Shorelines.

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When You Stub Your Toe

For those of us who have suffered from mental health issues, here is an observation:

The weight of that history, the sense that it is something we are “always battling with”, the experience of sadness, the memories of being hurt, the lack of energy, the “unfairness”, the feeling of being unable to think outside of the dark bubble…

- All of THAT, however it is manifesting itself in a particular moment … is just a memory. A memory of past pain in our present consciousness. It isn’t ALL of that history. It is ONLY the memory of that history in the moment. It is occurring in our consciousness, and nowhere else. And only now.

There are plenty of ways that may and sometimes do help us to deal with mental health issues. But still, fundamentally, the main issue we are dealing is this moment, right here, right now. If it feels like an enormous accumulation of pain…well that feeling is itself just a memory in the moment.

We can and should notice it. In fact trying to push it away feeds it, and it will keep coming back. But when we notice it, look at it, we can then watch it pass by like every other memory and thought that we’ve ever had.

And if we think that is impossible, see how clearly all of history is forgotten instantly, When You Stub Your Toe.

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Pancake Day

Pancake Day, and a time to remember my mum with fondness.

She hated making pancakes, and it has been, periodically, a source of merriment, particularly for my sister and me, remembering what that day was like back in the past.

Let’s put it this way. We didn’t get many pancakes. The ones we got tended to be very holey. Or very dark. And yes, some of them did stick to the kitchen ceiling. She got quite flustered to be honest. But it’s fun remembering. It puts the Shrove in Tuesday.

This might not seem like a great way of honouring my mum’s memory. But I know for a fact that, when I’m gone, my own boys will undoubtedly recall and laugh about the way I manage to get all sorts of famous names wrong, usually in hilariously subtle ways. Hilarious to them anyway!

My mum, according to my dad, is in heaven, and I hope she’s having a laugh about it all herself now. And I will have a skeletal giggle (I won’t be in heaven…I’ll be getting tickled by worms) at the thought of my boys having a laugh at my expense.

It’s the way things should be.

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Only A Pup

It’s been very quiet on the hill. But I saw my first “Other Person” of the month on my walk up to The Bench on Beinn Ghuilean today. Well, truth be told, I saw his dog first.

”He’s Only A Pup” was in fact very large and boisterous, and a little bit nippy. The man who appeared was apologetic and embarrassed. He’d clearly taken him on the hill because of the likelihood of not seeing anyone. But, hey, people get everywhere.

Dogs are great companions for some folk. But I do think, I have long thunk, that dog owners should be required (by law)to train their dogs to the point of obedience. I’ve been a reluctant dog owner in the past (kids and foster kids are very persuasive) and spent countless hours reading up about and training the two dogs in order to try to install basic obedience into them. It didn’t work perfectly, but it did work.

”Only A Pup” would undoubtedly have knocked over, certainly scared, and quite possibly hurt, one of my grand weans. I’ve got an adult son who still has a dog phobia by virtue of being attacked by a small dog when he was little. A foster son, who loves dogs, not along ago got bitten on the arse by somebody’s, and needed a precautionary injection.

So yes, dogs are great, man’s best pal and all that, but they are also a serious responsibility.

I got hold of “only a pup” at the owners request. He told me he’d need to keep him there for a while or he’d follow me up the hill.

And on my return there was a lovely Big Turd by the stile entrance.

Now there is a chip on my shoulder. (Sorry Chris ;).


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Keep Things Stupidly Simple

You may have noticed that the subject of Homesong, the thing itself, gigs in homes, is not being talked about very much on this here Homesong blog at the moment.

It has indeed been a while. After The Covid Years and my attempts to propagate things during that period with an online version of Homesong a kind of weariness gradually set in. Lots of reasons for that, but I’m not inclined to analyse them here at the moment.

But I am ready to get back on the horse again, albeit a slightly different kind of horse.

There is going to be much more of a local focus. Basically, I’m going to do my best to get any local songwriters in Kintyre to come and gather for a session once a month at my house. Along with anyone who wants to come and witness the thing. No big song and dance going to be made about it. It’s going to be on the last Thursday of each month. And we’ll see how things go.

There are several reasons for the change of focus. I’ll perhaps talk about those further down the line.

But the bottom line, I think, is that I’m not a great marketeer. And banging on about My Thing (a necessary component of getting anything off the ground consistently) is not really my forte. Though I have given it a good shot I feel.

Instead, I’ve got a new motto, which I adapted from the acronym that songwriting impresario Rosie Bans told me about - K.I.S.S. (Keep Things Simple Stupid).

My slight variation on the theme, less insulting to oneself, and more personally relevant is….Keep Things Stupidly Simple.

I know what that means for me. And that’s what I’m going to try and do.

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Free Speech

I’ve come to cherish free speech more than I ever did.

But part of the deal here, I’m coming to realise, in taking the notion of Free Speech seriously, is the need, our need, to start separating what is said from the person who is saying it.

I’ve been as tribalised in my thinking as anybody over the years. And part of that thinking means believing, firstly, that you, not Them, are on the side of good. And the other part is the tendency to demonise certain representatives of Them, to the point at which anything that person says is disregarded completely. Because They said it. Part of the mantra is, that if you take anything they say seriously, you are already kind of corrupted, and even worse, betraying your own tribe.

Examples of the sort of people who fell into my own category, my own tribe’s category, of Demon are well known names like Donald Trump, Nigel Farage and Piers Morgan.

(One of these people inspired, from a sense of incomprehension and anxiety, a whole album, “Too Much Of Everything” which I wrote and recorded as The Strunts with my friend Les Oman. You can probably work out who, if you happened to listen to it, or even if you didn’t. It remains an album of which I’m proud and which we both stand by).

The names I mention above are representative of the kind of “demons” who I stopped being able to listen to. Part of the reason for that was that I genuinely didn’t like listening to them. But the other reason undoubtedly was, that it is far easier to demonise someone, when we put our fingers in our ears and block out anything that is being said.

Because listening, genuinely listening, to anybody at all, means that we will inevitably find that, while we may well disagree with them on many or most things, and might find they themselves highly disagreeable, never the less we will bump into some words they say with which we actually do agree.

This is a very uncomfortable moment. Particularly for those of us who hate conflict, but love truth, because it stirs up a lot of cognitive dissonance. We want to fully BELONG (to our own tribe) but we also want to acknowledge TRUTH (where-ever it happens to show up).

So, as I say, the easy option, is to not listen at all. Then we can keep our “Truth” and still be loved and a fully paid up member of our own tribe. We can still belong.

I think this was my own subconscious working out.

But I was wrong. I was very wrong.

And I have come to believe that not listening to those I strongly disagree with, or dislike, and not separating the speech from the speaker, is one of the most dangerous acts that I have committed towards my own growth as a human. Towards my own integrity. And when many millions of us are doing this kind of thing (and we are) and when we are encouraged to do so, as seems to be happening much more in the last ten years, then it becomes dangerous for the whole of humanity.

That’s what I’ve come to believe.

So I’ve been challenging myself, and I challenge you - try listening to one of your own self labelled Demons, and do nothing more - nothing more - than try and find something they say with which you agree.

We don’t die or become corrupt when we do this. Though our hands might get a little bit dirty and we may need to hold our noses at times.

Yet in doing so we can’t help, at least in that instance, to grow and stretch ourselves a little bit, as human beans. And, most importantly, cease to play a part, at that moment, in a massive, uncoordinated but, I believe, very real, wall building psychology that has emerged, and that is calcifying our relationships and our peaceful co-existence world wide.


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It’s Baltic Out There

It’s Baltic Out There.

I don’t usually look at the weather report. About the same amount as I watch the news. I’m not a farmer, and I like surprises. Like weatherman Michael Fish, and everybody else, I was surprised by the hurricane that hit the south coast in the Eighties. Myself and Ineke were in Kent at the time, and got woken by a brick flying through our second floor window.

These days the weather is up and down like a yoyo according to my perception. Though I tend to trust my perception in relationship to time with a great deal of suspicion these days.

Anyway, I bet it’s Baltic where you are too if you’re in the UK. Or, who knows, maybe you live in the Baltic. I doubt it, but if you do, please tell me what “Baltic” is like before it starts travelling easterly. I suspect the real thing is even more impressive.

Walking into the very cold wind coming off the sea this morning I witnessed the birds carrying on as usual. I wonder how they feel temperature. Do they ever shiver? Do they squawk weather like small talk to each other?

For me, wrapped up around my core, I wasn’t suffering. In fact I was invigorated. A blast of cold air is part of life on these Islands in the winter. Even here on the balmy west coast.

It wakes a human being up.


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The Empty Bowl

No more and no less

Enough to fill an empty bowl

The Empty Bowl is full.


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A Fly-By

The Heron did A Fly-By with a stick in it’s mouth, circling a couple of times before landing to renovate its nest, high up above me.

That put a smile on my face. I pass that tree where the Heron’s nest very regularly. It’s a tall tree, in a group of three or four similar, and like any tall trees they are often blasted by the wind. But, from the Heron’s point of view, very convenient, as they stand close to the sea front, where the Heron spend most of its time, standing still, always alone, watching for passing fish.

Birds are living dinosaur ancestors, and the heron, along with the cormorants, always strikes me as a very dinosaur like bird.

Seeing them flying overhead, like I did this morning, with slow flight and big wings, is like a trip back in time to watch a Pterodactyl. It’s also a trip forward in time, towards the future springtime, and the sound of young herons, up on high, calling raucously for food.

But regardless of the portents it brings, or the images it creates, most of all it is simply wonderful to be able to witness nature at first hand.


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Focussing On The Niggle

I decided I’d walk everyday up to The Bench on Beinn Ghuilean during the month of February. It’s just an attempt to up the ante a little bit. I’ve been taking a daily two mile walk first thing in the morning for quite a while, just along the sea front, to get into the habit of walking daily. Not that I didn’t walk before, but this has been more of a consistent routine.

It’s been great. But the February walk is five and a half miles, with a fair bit of uphill. And though I’ve been doing a lot of strengthening and stretching work on my legs, which does mean I’m feeling generally stronger and more flexible, today I was feeling an old niggle in my knee.

And when you’ve got a niggle, it’s very easy to start Focussing On The Niggle.

So many other things to focus on, appreciate, enjoy, think about, look at, during my walk. And yet the slight pain in my knee, which wasn’t stopping me walking, tended to dominate the show. Which is a shame.

Aware of my focus, I tried various tactics to avoid doing so. With mixed results. It’s clearly dominating my thinking even now.

I’m heading up the hill tomorrow again, and hoping that there isn’t a daily accumulative worsening of the pain. No reason to think there will be, as it’s fine in a rested state now.

Either way, I want to do the walk. And perhaps learn a little bit more about resting the mind in the midst of distractions.

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Row To Shore

Today is the fourth of the month, and on this day of every month, I religiously release a song, and have done for one hundred and forty one months in a row.

Those songs, like all our creations, all our words, are attempts to connect and communicate. And this month’s song, Row To Shore, is about that very subject.

It’s easier to stay quiet. To stay put behind our walls. To stay out there, all alone, on our little boat in the ocean.

It’s always easier to do that. And problems inevitably arise when we do try and connect, communicate, and build something more than the edifice of our own survival. It’s hard to break out, especially in a world that is looking more threatening and divided.

But, I believe, that we need to. Whatever our own particular walls, obstacles, comfort zones and blind spots are … we need to, more than ever.

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Poor Things

Today a film recommendation. Poor Things.

It’s certainly not for everybody. Quite surreal, with several short but quite explicit sexual scenes. There is also a certain amount of close up surgery.

But I found it remarkable. Like nothing else I’ve witnessed at the cinema. Beautifully filmed, it is a kind of Frankenstein story with Emma Stone magnificent as Bella, a young lady brought back to life after committing suicide while pregnant. And it is the brain of her very own baby who gives her life, through the hands of Godwin Baxter, played by William Dafoe, her father figure, who she comes to know as “God” for short.

It doesn’t get any less strange after that. In a nutshell it is the tale of Bella’s growing up and coming of age, from baby to mature woman, all the time in the body of a mature woman, and mainly in the company of the caddish Duncan Wedderburn, also brilliant played by Mark Ruffalo. Though quite course and explicit in some respects, it is never the less a very nuanced, gentle, wise and often hilarious insights into our humanity and our sometimes confusing experiences of both masculinity and femininity. And there is so much more to it than a sexual coming of age story. With plenty of twists and turns along the way.

I’m loathe to say more. A friend who accompanied me to the cinema said afterwards “I’ve no clue how I could explain that one to anybody”.

I feel the same. It is impossible to describe really. But, from my perspective, very highly recommended, as long as you take the advisory comments on board.

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Israel And Palestine

warning: Long Blog Ahoy!

This isn’t usually a political blog. Mainly because, as expressed yesterday, I have come to the opinion that my opinions on the subject have, over the years, been too much motivated by mere personal feelings, and cultural and psychological biases. And I haven’t been inclined to inform myself about the various subjects well enough to feel that my opinions should ever be forcefully aired. Not that I haven’t tried. For instance I did “weigh in” quite a bit on the topic of Scottish Independence a few years back. And yes, I still think that would be a good thing.

However, the title of today’s blog, suggests that I might be about to weigh in again on matters political. Well, kind of.

It’s certainly not that I feel any more able to talk about this one. On the contrary, I have probably watched less of the coverage of the hostilities in Israel And Palestine than pretty much anyone on the planet. It’s such an emotional subject that I find it personally more helpful to listen or read, when I am paying attention. This is purely, through a kind of wise selfishness - it is in order to help me maintain my own decent levels of mental health, without which I am no use to anyone. Especially myself.

Anyways, as little as this issue directly effects those of us who aren’t a part of the conflict, that doesn’t stop there being vast amounts of extremely heated opinion, and sometimes complete hysteria, exploding onto a Social Media Feed near you. This has affected me directly, in so much as my very good wife has very strong feelings on the subject. In her case, these are motivated by a religious faith that I don’t share. She has been posting a lot in support of Israel, and I support her absolute right to do this, but her often religious take on the issue, in my opinion, vastly detracts from any valid view points and links that she shares.

As I say, I believe very strongly that she has the right to share them. And shutting off any ones voice is never an answer. But in recognising that she and her opinions are vastly, perhaps recklessly, in opposition to a lot of what is out there in our popular media, I felt inclined, as a person in love with that very woman, to try and pay closer attention to all points of view, including hers, on the subject.

It happens that I am a subscriber to a meditation app by Sam Harris, who has introduced me to the wonderful world of mediation and mindfulness. But Sam also has a podcast called Making Sense, in which he talks and speaks with people to try and “make sense” of all kinds of subjects that affect our nations and cultures.

Now, in my opinion (oh damn, I’ve given one) Sam Harris is pretty much the most reasonable voice out there on almost anything you care to mention. That sounds like fanboy talk, and, hey, if the shoe fits…

But Sam has got him into a lot of trouble at various times, with both the “Left” and the “Right” on the traditional political spectrum. This is simply because he doesn’t approach any subject from a particular political allegiance. And his strong, though very well constructed arguments, often give folk from both sides the credence to think that he is very for, or very against, their own particular tribal stances. And vice versa.

To my mind, whether or not you agree with him, he is simply always searching for the truth, and expresses himself in the clearest and most measured way possible. For better or worse. That in itself is a good thing I think.

Why am I telling you all this? Well, it turns out that, though very much a secular, not religious voice, Harris backs up at least some of the positions that my wife is shouting about over on Facebook.

And so I’ve listened to his very strong, but as always very reasoned takes on the topic. My own previously limited and biased perspective (for all sort of weird and wonderful reasons related to my own religious and personal history) has been challenged and in many ways changed in the process.

And so, in lieu of me having anything coherent enough to say on the matter myself (“we were starting to wonder” I hear you say) I would encourage you to have a listen to what Sam Harris has to say on the subject of the conflict between Israel and Palestine, and, the even larger and wider issue of Islamic Jihadism worldwide.

Before you listen, I would add this. We all seem to get quite quickly turned into partisan tribalists by our own biases these days …”they said (insert your own personal trigger words) therefore they must be on the side of evil” … kind of thing. But I hope, if you have the time, that you listen to the whole discourse in context, whatever your own personal hot buttons might be.

I suspect that for most of my readers, some of whom are good friends, this will be a challenging listen. But, I hope that you know me by now as someone who isn’t trying to peddle The Truth The Only Truth, And Nothing But My Truth. I’m just a fellow passenger on the Trying To Navigate Through The Fog Ship.

In reality, we are all travelling on this less than water tight ship, and we’re on a fairly gusty ocean at the moment. I believe it helps to listen to each other. Especially when feelings are running high.

ps. The highlighted “have a listen” link above is to youtube and is only about half of the full podcast. If you want the full podcast talk then get in touch, and I can send you a link to a full version, as I’m a subscriber.

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Weighing In

An old man, who I didn’t know, started talking to me on the sea front this morning - ”Don’t think I’ll walk so far today”.

Then he started telling me about a pain that had developed at the back of one leg. He was clearly concerned. Thought it might be a circulation issue. He talked, and I listened. That’s all I had to offer, and it seemed to be enough.

But it’s not always been that way. I’m never been a bad listener, but I have generally been someone, sometimes still am, who liked Weighing In on this or that topic. Whether it be health, politics, football, the state of the world etc, etc.

Opinions must out!

Or must they?

Let’s put it this way…

….No, they mustn’t.

Whether it be in conversations with friends or strangers in the street, or with the Big Wide World on the World Wide Web I’m finding that “First Listen” is good advice to myself.

Difficult advice to follow in a daily blog of course. It’s all about MY opinions. But still….better to speak only when I genuinely know. And if I must offer my opinion, better to provide safeguards for the listener and for myself:

“This is what I….think, believe, feel…about (insert subject). But, really, I don’t know”.

Please do feel free to hold me to account on this matter.


nb. Never the less, a big shout out to the voices out there (yes experts do exist) that do know, but still express their knowledge with humility, care, compassion and grace. Sometimes in the face of a storm.

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Giving Up

Giving Up isn’t an option.

Giving up is the only option.

Ironically I just lost the post I had written earlier (while my ‘puter was updating) which started with the very words written above. But I think I can at least paraphrase what I was saying. It is in fact even more relevant to me now. So…

- I give up the previous post I had written because this new one is needing to be written.
- I give up that past to construct this present sentence.
- I give up my impatience and frustration at the situation.
- I give up the exact wording, which might have been perfect, for this imperfect replicate.
- I give up what might have been, and what might be, for what is.

I give up the future and the past.

For now.

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The Storm In The Teacup

The Storm In The Teacup

Man, it looks serious in there
Copper brown waves rising to the height of the brim
Mounting the sides of the teacup within
And threatening to flood
The surrounding area.

The sugar lump didn’t stand a chance.

Yet moments later
The ocean is calm
the sea settles
And the tea leaves

Me reflecting
Upon the forces of nature
Inside my own porcelain skull.

Frothing, seething
At some slight, or trigger
And suddenly
I’m hardly breathing
As some trivial typhoon
Stirs up the commotion
For what seem like
The longest moment in time.

Yet, if I wake up
And simply watch,
If I let things be,
If I remove the spoon

Like the tea
The waves inside me

Subside, quite quickly.

Before any innocent sugar lumps get harmed.

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The Little Things

I’m on a football road trip with one of my boys. Doesn’t happen often, and it’s great fun. He’s making me a Premier Inn morning cuppa, and the stringy bit from the teabag has separated from its origin and fallen to the depths of the mug.

Previously he sprayed his deodorant in the bathroom, and I nearly choked on the fumes when I took a shower afterwards. What do they put in that stuff? And what’s wrong with good all soap and water I ask you?

Life, as well as the Devil, is in the details. The little things that make us laugh, or complain, or wonder, or cry, or smirk.

Now we travel on. And hopefully Notts County win this afternoon against Barrow, in their first match under the new manager.

But that’s out of our hands.

For me, it used to be all about - the next match, or holiday, or gig, or anything that I was waiting, in anticipation, to happen. In reality, the potential happy ending future was always out of my hands, and I was often dreaming my life away.

These days The Little Things happening now, and surrounding the main event, have become the main event.

I think that’s probably healthier.

As long as those deodorant fumes haven’t damaged my lungs.


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Watching A Film

I am Watching A Film, in which I am the lead actor.

Everything that happens, and everything that I am experiencing, including the sense that there is a ME who is experiencing watching and experiencing it all, is happening in this thing we call consciousness.

And my movie is overlapping with yours, if you’re reading this blog.

Our realities touch and affect each other. But this is my film.

So, I’m just going to sit back with my popcorn and watch my very own life story on camera. Like all the best films, there are twists and turns every moment. I expect to lose myself in the story.

I hope you enjoy your own biopic. And I look forward to those moments when you become a part of my experience, and I of yours. I’m sure we will be good supporting actors in each others movies.

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