The Streak

I’ve been a little bit inconsistent recently with my “Daily” blog.

These things happen. Life happens. It’s not all about keeping The Streak going, though that’s a nice challenge sometimes.

Every streak comes to an end at some point though.

Still, I’m very thankful that I have got a few streaks on the go. Particularly the breathing streak. I can’t tell you the exact amount of inhales and exhales, but I continue to appreciate that one most of all.


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The Northern Lights

There have been some really good sighting of The Northern Lights in our part of the world over the last few years. And we’ve missed all of them. Apart from a very distant flicker of green one time a few years ago.

Last night they were everywhere apparently. And we missed them too.

There’s a slight sense of disappointment of course. But we will only ever actually experience a tiny fraction of the available experiential options in life. And there are some really good ones available right now. So we’re going for a walk we haven’t done in a while up Deer Hill in our old stomping ground near Carradale. It’s a lovely day for it. No point living with regrets about the past.

Hope you enjoyed the lights if you saw them though. Jammy buggers! :)


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Learn To Smile

I sometimes find forgotten songs or lyrics that I’ve written. Bumped into the lyric below a couple of days ago, and then found a recording of the melody. It’s got a kind of ugly/pretty, darkness and light, contrast thing going on.

I like it. But I can’t remember writing it. It reveals echoes of a place I’ve come from, while I was reaching out for some wisdom on the journey.

Also it reminds me of a quote I read yesterday. I can’t find the source now, but it was something like: “A wise man is always cheerful”. Well, if that’s so, I’ve not been very wise for much of my life. Never the less, I’m undoubtedly starting to….

Learn To Smile

The Song Thrush sits
Top of the highest tree
Singing for you and me
She’s singing for you and me                 
And we can learn to smile

What do you do when you break
Do you start again?
Fight the same fights in the night 
Till the story ends
It’s not a good game to play
In the echo chambers of your mind

Pushing that rock to the top
Rolling it back again
Rolling it back to the start
Where it all began
Try ’n unravel the truth
Like a crazy man
Not a good game to play
In the echo chambers of your mind.

Push that rock till you drop

Still the Song Thrush sits
Top of the highest tree
Singing for you and me
She’s singing for you and me             
And we can learn to smile

It’s not the pain that hurts, it’s the hope
It’s not the faith that kills, it’s the Pope
Or the President, or the Papers who
Sell all their chloroform soap.
The chicken crossed over the road
Coz the News is a joke

Jesus is after your vote
Lives in a castle, high walls and a moat,
And he sits and he gloats 
At the sinners
Who swing from a rope.

Push that rock till you drop

And still the Song Thrush sits
Top of the highest tree
Singing for you and me
She’s singing for you and me     
And still the Song Thrush sits
Top of the highest tree
Singing for you and me
She’s singing for you and me           

And we can learn to smile
We can learn to smile
We can learn to smile
We can learn to smile


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Let’s Not Fight

Yesterday I released this month’s song. Which quite clearly got trumped by Ineke’s Triathlon. So here is:

Let’s Not Fight

Across the universe
A photon of light is doing the kind of thing
That a photon of light would do.
Lighting up a little part of everything that’s making up the universe
That you and I and everybody else  pass through

And it doesn’t take a genius to realise there’s nothing we can do

Because  everything is happening on it’s own 
And we have got the privilege to watch it all
And be a part of everything and everyone

And it’s alright
Coz we’re all light
And there’s  a part of you in me 
So let’s not fight

Across the planet earth
A woman you don’t know, is doing the kind of thing
That a woman you don’t know might do.
She’s planning to make a new dress for the  daughter of her sister
For when she celebrates her birthday 
She’ll be turning seventeen in just a week or two

And it doesn’t take a genius to realise there’s nothing we can do

Because  everything is happening on it’s own 
And we have got the privilege to watch it all
And be a part of everything and everyone
And it’s alright
Coz we’re all light
And there’s a part of you in me 
So let’s not fight

Across the living room
A friend of yours is doing the kind of thing that 
A friend of yours would do. 
Right now he’s thinking anxiously about something that he just said
Which might have not come out in quite the way
That it had been intended to

And it doesn’t take a genius to realise there’s nothing we can do

Everything is happening on it’s own. 
And we have got the privilege to watch it all
And be a part of everything and everyone
And it’s alright
Coz we’re all light
And there’s a part of you in me 
So let’s not fight

Inside my tiny mind
Eighty six billion neurons are doing the kind of thing
That eighty six billion neurons would do.
Connecting this to that and that to this 
And me to you, and you to me
And  everything that ever was 
To everything that ever was likely to. 

And I'm not a genius, rhere’s really nothing I can do

Coz  everything is happening on it’s own
And we have got the privilege to watch it all
And be a part of everything and everyone

And it’s alright
Coz we’re all light
And there’s a part of you in me 
So let’s not fight
Yes it’s alright
Coz we’re all light
And there’s a part of you in me 
So let’s not fight
Coz it’s alright
And we’re all light
So let’s not fight

Sixty Eight

They say you shouldn’t reveal a woman’s age. I’m going to break that rule out of gushing pride. I know the woman in question won’t mind. Because, at the grand young age of Sixty Eight, my wife, Ineke Fee, has just swum, cycled and run from the start to finish of her first ever Triathlon.

Ineke is a force of nature. She would be the first to admit that she’s not an athlete. But give her a brick wall to get through, and she’ll be the last human being standing.

The running was always going to be the tough part. She’s got a leg issue which makes it painful. But she did it. Because doing it is what she does!

We’ve all got our brick walls to face. And there are different ways to face them. Ineke smashed hers. And that brought a tear to my eye.

Getting through, is sometimes just a case of getting up again.


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Spock And Captain Kirk

Spock And Captain Kirk needed to learn to get along.

In our heads we are Spock. Our rationalising is faultless. We are so convincing that we cannot help but believe every word we tell ourselves.

Even if what we tell ourselves amounts to…

”This is what I believe, and nothing you say is going to change my mind”.

Maybe we simply need to acknowledge that about each other.

Maybe we need, more often than not, to say a big fat YES to whoever the other person in front of us is, and instead of trying to change them, help them to move in the direction they want to go. To become the best version of the complex hybrid of obviously wrong opinions mixed with well meant intent, which most of us in fact are.

”Aye, Aye, Captain'“.

Completo

“Completo” is a spanish word which means….Full. No more room.

“You can’t get on this bus, mate. It’s completo”.

Which is clearly related to the English word “Complete”. But the English word is commonly used in a different way. It alludes to a sense of accomplishment.

”I’ve finished what I was doing. It’s completed”.

In either language though, it’s time for a new direction:

-Kill some time and wait for the next bus perhaps?
- Go home?
-Start the new project?
-Hang around, feeling lost?

The decision has been made for us. But we still have to decide.

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The Bus To La Herradura

The Bus To La Herradura?
It was a mystery trip,
Nothing was surer.
We paid our fare.
It was cheap
To get there.
So we didn’t end up
Very much poorer.


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The Fruit Bats

A quiet mind.
A useful aim?
I think so.

But every mind
Has an opening
Like a cave
Where The Fruit Bats come home to roost.

I discover, at some point,
That this opening is also an exit.
And that, anyway, those fruit bats
Come home
In order to sleep.

I still wave my arms around
Trying to stop those fruity thoughts flying
Like mad things.
Getting in the way.
Getting in my hair.
Making a racket.

But they need sleep too.
So, eventually, I let them sleep.
Until the next time
They need to eat.

Then I let them fly away.

Inhale And Exhale

My breath.

The constant song
Of my very own bee hive mind
Keeping me alive
And conscious.

Yet sometimes that melody is lost
Like some small, unnoticed child
Amongst the
Thronging crowds of noise.

The crash of the ocean seas.
The wind humming in the trees.
The cars upon the city streets.
And the thumping beats.

All of these louder and more insistent
Than the coming and going
Of my tiny, insignificant
Inhale And Exhale.

But none of them more meaningful to me.

I breathe.

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.

The Very Long Story

It’s a long story. Even our tiny part of it is long. Beyond telling, in even the smallest fraction of its entirety.

Which parts to tell though? Who even wants to listen? But we keep living the story, and then sharing, and listening to others share, all our parts weaving together into an intricate complex whole.

When we read a great novel, we don’t want it to end.

But we, little me and you, are in a never ending story. Even if our own parts in it will end . And we get to choose the kind of character we play - loud or quiet, impactful or subtle in our influence on the narrative. Albeit limited to an extent by nature and nurture.

Any character in a “real” novel would die to be given this kind of opportunity.

We’ve got it! We’ve got a role in The Very Long Story.


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Fall And Rise

The tides fall and rise
Without my say so.
They come and go
To and fro
The fall
The rise.
And though I may have my preferences,
There is no point,
No point at all,
To despise
The one over the other.

My own Fall And Rise
Is no different
To the tides.


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Help Me To Believe

Help Me To Believe.

I need to get lost in your story, whether it be in the form of a song, or a book, or a film. As soon as I start to doubt….the moment something within the narrative seems unbelievable…. then the magic begins to disappear.

You could win me back. I’m a hard case but I know too well how difficult it is to maintain complete, unfettered focus in a listener, reader or viewer. And it’s very rare for anything to be THAT good. So, we have to be a little forgiving with the story telling, including our own.

But some stories are that good. Sometimes we are completely submerged in the imagined world that is presented before us.

I’m in complete awe of anybody who pulls off that trick.


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A Moving Target

There is a daily blog that I read. It’s read by a few million I think.

Despite its many qualities and its resonance with me personally, sometimes, even fairly regularly, it gets repetitive. Sometimes I can predict what is going to be said.

I doubt it is possible to be creative and fresh all the time. However hard we try. I don’t manage to be that, I know.

But it doesn’t do us any harm to keep trying.

Inspiration needs A Moving Target.

Everything Immediately

Sometimes I get “aah” moments. I see something that I’ve been doing wrong, or understanding incorrectly, or thinking about back to front for most of my life. A sense of “Oh, THAT’s It!…how WRONG was I?”

And at those moments it feels like I’ve moved on. I’ve found a “solution” to one of life’s many little or large dilemmas.

But it’s not as easy as that. Try changing any habit or thought pattern of a lifetime. In my experience that habit or thought pattern is very reluctant to let go. It doesn’t respect the new revelation. Not one little bit.

It’s easy, then, to feel like that revelation was an illusion. It didn’t solve Everything Immediately. What a let down.

Really though, all a new way of thinking can do is set the direction for change. It still takes time, patience, and lots of little steps in the right direction, to undo the past damage. And kindness towards our past and present selves.


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Couch Potato

It really is quite hard to start a new habit. To get something rolling to such an extent that it has its own momentum. That’s a nice place to be, but it’s hard to get there. Once it’s started though, it can be equally hard to stop, in order to move in new direction. Or to look at the habit afresh, and carry it on in a slightly different way.

I’m talking about good habits of course. Bad habits are annoyingly very easy to start. But also, and equally annoyingly, even harder to stop.

We, like every living thing, are searching for the easiest, quickest route possible to staying alive, to feeling alive, and to continuing like that until the very end.

On that basis, your typical Couch Potato is living the dream. Yet from the outside looking in, we don’t see that as being a great, enjoyable, or fulfilling lifestyle. And I’m sure it doesn’t feel like that from the inside looking out either.

Modern humans are a strange conundrum. Mostly protected from living lives in pure survival mode. And yet missing out on many of the things that would help us live better for that very reason.

Answers to this conundrum on a postcard please. To the usual address.

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Tears and Laughter For Fears

I’ve always been a subscriber to the dark arts of black humour.

Laughter, the first laughter in a baby, is a reaction to fear. It’s so closely related to crying, we don’t even realise it sometimes. Our tears accept and release the fears. Our laughter confronts it, and announces to the world that we won’t be brought down by whatever it is we may fear. We need them both. Although Tears and Laughter For Fears isn’t such a great band name.

Underneath it all lurks our fear of Death. That’s what we all fear deep down. Losing our grasp on Life once we have hold of it. Laughter is as an appropriate a response to that fear as tears are.

As with laughter and tears, life and death cannot be separated. They need each other. And we need them.

As the actress said to the bishop.

Change Is Here To Stay

Change is here to stay. As they say.

There are indeed those moments when time seems to stand still. But the minute we grab on to them, try to hold them in our grasp, they’re gone.

It’s a dreich day here in Campbeltown. Yesterday was sunny and spring like.
Tomorrow, who knows?

Change Is Here To Stay.

And that’s all I’ve got today.


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Thank You

People come together in grief.

It’s the one thing we all share with absolutely certainty. The end of things, once they’ve begun, is a given. We’ve been overwhelmed with the kind thoughts and condolences expressed in a variety of ways regarding my Dad’s sudden death.

I’m not the biggest fan of Facebook, but if all it did was to provide a place for people to say encouraging words to each other during difficult times, then that would be more than enough. And practically speaking the internet means we can easily keep people informed about the events in our lives.

Thank You, whether you’ve spoken to us, written to us, or just given us space. All of which are appreciated.

Life moves on very quickly. It is in constant motion. Whatever we are doing, or experiencing, it keeps creating. And we have no choice but to move with it. It’s not a bad deal really.


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One Of A Kind

On Friday I had my early morning walk along the sea front up to the Field of Hope, and decided to have a wander round Campbeltown Cemetery. It’s beautiful there.

Later that morning my Dad had a fall at home which resulted in a broken hip. I travelled with him and the emergency services to Glasgow. On Saturday morning he went for his operation, during which he went into cardiac arrest and died.

That’s how quickly it happened. How quickly it happens.

My Dad, John Fee, came to live with us eight months ago, moving up from Newark where he was a distance away from all of his children. He had settled in well here, and been welcomed and made friends at the local church he attended. With a struggle, and a bit of encouragement, he’d managed to take an almost daily walk. Local neighbours, as is the way in Campbeltown, said they were keeping an eye on him when he was out.

He seemed to be happy here, and pleased to have us all around. I’m glad he came to stay, and glad that this happened here, where my sister and I live, rather than away from us all in Newark. In a way, for him, I’m glad things happened quickly. I know how bad things can get after a hip break.

It was tough to be with him over the last twenty four hours of his life but I’m glad I had that time too. I can tell you that he bore things well, even though clearly in a lot of pain. To any one in the vicinity his regular shout outs of “Jesus” might have seemed like a curse, but for him it was a prayer. His faith was the most important thing in his life.

It’s very hard, even for someone like me who likes being creative with words, to describe my Dad in a few words, or the complicated relationship I had with him. I’m going to cheat for once and use an old cliche - he really was One Of A Kind.

Dad used to read this wee blog of mine, but only ever commented when I made a grammatical mistake. And, of course, that is exactly the kind of thing I’m going to miss. You can be sure I’m checking this one carefully, but I can’t promise perfection anymore!

Last week I finished off a song I’d been writing (lyric below). It isn’t recorded yet, but I’d like to dedicate it to my Dad.

Rest in peace Arthur John Fee. Born 14th March 1939, Died April 13th 2024.

Moment In Time
These are the days of our lives (never to return)
This is where we will decide (what we’re gonna learn)
Every breath we’ll ever breathe (never to return)
This is what we have achieved (and it’s)

Just a Moment In Time
Just a Moment In Time
Just a Moment In Time
Just a Moment in Time

These are our hopes and our dreams (never to return)
This is the way that things seem (then the seasons turn)
Every second we live (never to return)
This is what we have to give (and it’s)

Just a Moment In Time
Just a Moment In Time
Just a Moment In Time
Just a Moment in Time

Tomorrow will come if we have our way
Now we open the gift called today

Just a Moment In Time
Just a Moment In Time
Just a Moment In Time
Just a Moment in Time