Excellent in Hindsight.
Has the window for excellence been and gone?
Reading back over the question, it’s obvious to me that the answer is no, excellence may well strike again, it might just be wearing a different jacket. Now that I think about it, when I say excellence, I mean seismic. I mean chart-topping, record-breaking, YEE-HAW, excellence. But what of the reliable, the modest, the safe. Can they not be excellent too? I believe that they can.
I want to be an excellent father, more than anything in the world.
My days of being a firework are behind me, it’s time to be the match-stick, who’s job it is to light the fuse.
Momentarily.
So, what of my surroundings? I am sat in the garden, wood pigeons coo like feathered bellows in the trees. The sound of cars, playing their part, following the twists and turns of evening’s road. I can just about make out the radio, dissecting the day in politics. A chainsaw in the far distance is momentarily mistaken for a vexed insect, much closer than i’d like. The dog patrols the boundary line, everything is as it should be.
Pilot Light Detected.
Simplicity, self-reliance, and humility.
Upon asking Google to summarise the philosophy of Henry David Thoreau, the words simplicity, self-reliance, and humility were highlighted in blue. They sound good, don’t they?
I recognised in myself a faint but certain ability to achieve all three of these things. As if they reside in me just as surely as my capacity for love, compassion or fear. I felt all at once inspired and comforted and did perhaps all that I could do, which was to sit in silence and wonder.
I left the desk, switched off the lights and locked the door behind me. As I made my way through town my thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of the weir. Which in turn amplified the sound of the wind jostling the leaves. The world was now alive to me through the song that it sings. I heard on top of it all the pat, pat, pat of my own feet on the pavement. I am here, playing my part. A contributor.
The sky is thick and low, it’s been threatening a downpour all day. I cross my fingers and hope for rain.
Love Lives Here.
Rain and inspiration. Both joined us on our morning walk.
Yesterday I sat in the garden for a good two hours. Just sat there and let it play out in front of me. I’d deliberately left my phone and any distractions back down at the house. The dog loved me being out with him, hurrying back to my side every so often to check I was still there, still watching. Until finally, he came and slumped down on the grass beside me, the warmth of his body against my bare leg just felt so wonderful. He seemed content and so I closed my eyes and set off on a twenty minute meditation. Following an illusive mantra that lead me into a deep and very real sense of calm. I cracked an eye open to glance at my watch, it had been 17 minutes, I sighed.
On opening my eyes again, the world seemed almost to be in technicolour, as if the life dial had been turned up to 11.
The calm I felt managed to infiltrate every matter on my mind, so much so that I couldn’t help but smile, things were clear. Things are clear.
What lies ahead is unknown. Now more than ever. So what is there to do but to remind oneself of what is known.
A child will arrive. We will do our best.
Arms Open, Waiting.
Some ideas grow like bulbs beneath the soil. You check in on them from time to time, mull them over. Until finally, one day, they burst and bloom and what lies at the heart of them is clear for you to see. Ah! That’s where I was getting to!
And what of the ideas that arrive, seemingly from nowhere, without tricks or twists, just as they are. Call it lightning.
I’ve also known the kind that repeat on you for sometime before disappearing, forgotten, lost. Only to come back around, perhaps even years later. An old friend.
I look forward to them all, however they arrive. Whether or not they come to fruition or deserve any pursuing at all.
Initial ideas are perhaps more to me than any other part of a project.
Water in the desert, shelter from the storm.
Go Slow, But Go.
It’s cold in town, it’s cold and it’s grey.
I imagined myself hunched over, somewhat older, a disgruntled face framed by a thick woollen collar. It’s a different time in my mind, let’s call it non-specific-history. I imagined the sound of friendship spilling out from the pubs that I passed. I was separate from the world, I was an island and I was happy.
Having given it some thought, I know the source of my feeling low. Which is not an answer in itself but is something.
Tears In Manhattan.
The feeling went undetected because I felt nothing at all. Flat, distracted.
It wasn’t until I had an image in my mind of teardrops the size of footballs crashing over Manhattan, that I realised I felt low.
Make a Decision.
People are making things; cups of tea, mistakes, plans, art, love, babies, memories, create, create, create. Perhaps it’s all we can do. Make a decision! Make a friend! Make a difference! And so, what am I making? I used to make so many things. Do I still? A creative episode could be a singular event. To be a creative is a disposition, an unavoidable truth and one that in my experience can often feel like a hindrance.
Conversation lead to inspiration. Rang to share our news, heard the city street in the background, heard the fumble as the photo of the scan was opened up on the screen of the phone, heard silence, heard tears, heard happiness. It made me well-up. Made me feel loved and made me feel inspired. I got the dog into the car and headed into town, sat at the desk, wrote things down.
Talk therapy is getting harder the deeper we go.
If you know that ultimately you will arrive at forgiveness, why spend any time in anger? It’s a genuine question. Is there something to be said for anger. Anger is a real thing. But it’s no good marinating in it. Feel what is real but don’t indulge. Aim for forgiveness. And perhaps hardest of all, forgive knowing that only you will know that you have done so.
Komorebi.
The alarm was set for 05:45. When the alarm goes off that early you have two options, either; immediately throw your legs over the side of the bed and propel yourself into a position that loosely resembles that of somebody that is awake or barely open your eyes, let your sleeping hand emerge from under the safety of the duvet and fumble around for your phone, crack one eye just enough to make out the off button and then rollover, back to sleep, as if the alarm never happened. I am both happy and surprised to say that this morning I was able to execute the former.
I’d decided, just five minutes before getting into bed last night, that I’d set an early alarm and get out in the morning sunshine for a run. And I’m so happy that I did. It’s Summer! The towpath was busier than I’d expected but still by no means busy. The odd jogger and a handful of conscientious dog walkers getting out before it becomes too hot to trot.
The sun was magnificent, I have to assume that she’s a genius. Pulling shapes, unapologetic. A burning desire to burst her way through every space imaginable. Streaming through the leaves, casting lines that were at once both undeniable yet hardly there at all. Now I can say that I’ve seen gold, real gold. I squinted my eyes and smiled. And not a smile for the camera! smile, this was a real smile. An I’m-alive-smile.
I drove home, windows down, talk-radio played soft, a white noise. The heat was already picking up so I decided that as soon as I got home I’d get the dog out for a walk. I was soaked through to my socks due to the morning dew, but the cool sensation was welcome at this point. The dog turned his head to look up at me, I knew exactly what he was saying, and he was right, It was beautiful.
As if to test the authenticity of my joy, or the strength of my smile, I arrived home to accusations of selfishness. I was being presented with a dossier of neglect that apparently spanned four days! I listened in disbelief as my crimes were listed, then came my turn to defend myself. Which perhaps foolishly I attempted to do. I didn’t get very far though before I was being spoken over, my words were useless. I apologised, not to be done with the interaction but because I could see that my actions (or lack-thereof) had caused genuine distress. And for that I was sorry.
I don’t believe my apologies were heard and before the conversation could progress any further she was out the door and starting up the engine.
I didn’t like the interaction. Didn’t make me feel good. Want to do better. But, as I sit now, in the garden, with a cup of coffee. I can safely say that my joy and smile passed the test and are indeed authentic and strong. Today was and still is a beautiful one.
(My run was soundtracked by The Clash - London Calling (Remastered))
Hyper-Calm.
Did you ever wake up and remember to take your time?
It didn’t happen instantly, but within an hour of being up I caught myself, hand outstretched reaching for the door. You’re here, this is how it is, breath, look around, don’t try to understand, observe, let it be. Felt incredible, in a calm way. Felt lucky.
The Acer tree is burning against a backdrop of green. The dog trots in looking for some love. People talk about Los Angeles. New friendships are hard to form but right now they’re appealing. An advert for emergency food interrupts the podcast, people getting ready and they don’t know what for.
Some days I feel uncomfortable with how I spend my time. Not today though. I walked with my shoulders back, mid morning, not a care.
We Hear You.
The dog never wants to tread foot on the loose stoned pathways in the garden, never has. He makes a flamboyant show of springing over them, to land gently onto the safety of the lawn. But for why I have no idea. What is it about the stones? They’re the soft kind, smooth pebble like stones. So surely they’re not hurting him. I love him so much. Did he learn it from me? Did I used to leap over the stones to get to the lawn in an attempt to make myself seem like a funner prospect to him. Back when he was merely months old and would look at us, unsure of our dog owning credentials. I don’t know why he does it but I love that he does. I wonder what my stone pathway in life is? What do I avoid at all costs?
We had our first meeting with the local midwife team today. Cool, calm, supportive and knowing. Pull your chair up, come listen to the heartbeat. The heartbeat!? As in!? And then there it was, like morse code, I am here. There was something so confident about that heartbeat, something defiant, independent. 155bpm, the same tempo as Queen - Don’t Stop Me Now. Oh we won’t, little one. You just keep on doing what you’re doing. Grow, in peace, know that you’re loved, rest.
How is it in there?
Sat In The Garden.
The road I took was a gentle one and somehow felt as if it had been laid for me and me alone. The forest stood full and lush either side of the car. I pushed my sunglasses up and off my face, in an attempt to better understand the branches above me obscuring the sky, leaves and sunshine danced between and around one another. So far this year, summer’s been an elusive thing but today there is no doubt, she’s arrived and she’s welcome.
The driving range was quiet, I took my time. Looked out at the targets, I felt content.
The world is changing, because of course, it must. I drove past an elderly neighbour earlier today, a woman In her late eighties, stood waiting for the bus. She leaned, just slightly, into her walking frame. She seemed to be smiling to herself, as if she knew something. And I have no doubt that she does. The world might be changing but I can’t imagine wisdom is.
See Me Smile!
A private tour of the soon-to-open theatre. A refurb reported to have cost in the region of £26m, which is a difficult number to get your head around, but, having seen the space I believe every penny is justified. This town is now the proud home of a truly incredible creative space. A space for community. I felt so inspired! I felt proud, fortunate and protective.
I walked with purpose, a solar powered smile on my face. Blue skies should be prescribed. Let’s keep going! Let’s do it all.
Dinner with the family. The clock showed 9pm, I’ll be sad to see the day end.
Love & Support.
(16 Jun) Lazy morning, pillow talk lite. You go for a run, I’ll walk the dog, we’ll meet back at the car. A man made area of natural beauty, once-upon-a-quarry.
I wonder how they’ll take the news? They get to us at half past one, I wonder how they’ll take the news.
But why did I ever wonder? Most likely because I’ve never been here before, because there’s no dress rehearsal for this conversation. You’re going to be grandparents. And of course the news was met with nothing but joy, undiluted, double concentrated, joy. We all cried, glassy eyed and beaming. We all hugged, it was all we could do.
Some days are bigger than others.
Saw & Seen
Walking the track that leads out of the village, slow, insular and happy enough. I was struck, momentarily, by the beauty of it all. The storm came and went and left us what we hadn’t seen before. The dappling sunlight, making little miracles out of beech leaves. And the greens, so many different greens. I breathed it in, until of course I didn’t, distracted by myself. But for that moment, well, I was there, I saw it all.
We end our walks by sitting on a bench at the edge of the village green, me and the dog. I’ve got it to where he’s happy up there for close to ten minutes. We watch the poplar trees, I think about where I’m at and where I’ve been.
The slightly odd neighbour left his house and threw a wave my way, I like him. I was happy we’d been seen.
I Wanted Rain.
Drove back from the coast. Not before one last walk on the beach. Wind turbines out at sea, stood in silent rows, stoic observers. Do you see me? Round the corner we found the Seals, we stood, me and the dog, watching them. They certainly didn’t seem stoic, nor observing, if anything they seemed indifferent, unbothered, unfazed, it’s one way to be.
Old WWII bunkers, sinking into the dunes. Somebody told me the adders are out this time of year, but that’s more in land, right? Stop to watch it all. I’ll be leaving with one hour left on my parking ticket, can pass it on. Get back to the house, pack the car, get going.
I wanted rain. I wanted to drive in rain.
Often if i’m scared of something going on in my life, Voldemort will be in my dream, a physical manifestation of whatever abstract it may be that’s troubling me. And often if I dream of love, it will be represented by the first girl I ever loved, in my late teens. These two figures branded into my subconscious like cigarette burns on the back of a hand.
Good Luck, Play Well.
Driving down the coastal road. I ended up passing through a seaside amusement town, arcades, promenade, school trips and statics. An older couple sat in rain macs looking out over the North Sea. I turned the heating up in my car just a notch. I thought about old friends.
9 holes, 3 balls, 1 glove, 1 green sharpie; £39.48. “Good luck, play well.” The wind was up, the course was quiet. Swallows were flying, darting, free-falling, from here to there, at work, at play, at times a little too close. I said hello to the chap ahead of me as we passed between the 4th and 5th. I pissed in a cluster of trees. At the 8th I ate a tangerine.
To Begin, Begin…
We walked along the boardwalk, me and the dog.
The boardwalk, although only recently completed already feels familiar and comforting. It’s composite boards reaching out in front of us, cutting a course through the reeds and the sea rush. There was a calm in the world, a calm in myself. I could have walked that boardwalk for hours.
I felt connected to the past, not my own as such, an idyllic, fictional past. I was grateful for my four legged friend, I’d not have left the house yet if it wasn’t for him, I gave him a little dog treat from my pocket to say thank you.