Dreams of summer…

Michaela is tidying out our study/music room- she is intent on taking over the desk to use for her various craft activities.

It has accumulated more stuff than it is possible to imagine; file full of music, bits and pieces from old events we have done with Aoradh, laminated meditations, programmes, random data CDs, cassette tapes (remember those?)

Through the day yesterday she would find me and ask if I wanted to keep something. My instinctive answer was always ‘Yes’, but usually it went in the bin anyway. Lots of it concerned my old scribblings – songs, poems, stories, articles for magazines. I seem to have kept not only the final version, but in some cases I have several draft copies too.

There were lots of things that made me cringe, and grateful to put in the bin. But I did find some things that I might rework or at least keep as some kind of record of the past.

I found this poem, hand written in an old notebook. I think it must be from around 10 years ago, written whilst on holiday.

I decided to reproduce it here not because it is particularly good- but more because the winter is hard, and it is good to remember that this too shall pass.

There will be a time again of gentle air alive with birdsong and the smell of warm soil.

Highlands, early summer

~

Haze on the horizon

Hiding the far hills

Rocks nestling in the new grown heather

Bright green bracken still soft in the sun

~

Flax heads bobbing and swaying in the blue breeze

Are ghosts of an older age, gone now

Like the moaning voice of the cuckoo

Carried away on the wind

~

The earth sighs with the content of early summer

Not yet full of buzz and hum

No sign yet of anything brown

All is sinewed and strong

If under ripe

It is a time for the joy of it

Not the end product

The myth of equality…

Just had an interesting discussion with my daughter. Emily is 16, lovely, intelligent, part of a middle class nuclear family, surrounded by good friends and enjoys a situation of safety and security. She lives in a quiet, relatively crime free part of the UK, one of the richest countries in the world.

In many ways, you could say that she has won the life lottery.

This would be unfair of course-life has this way of challenging all of us in some ways- she is having to learn to cope with dyslexia, and to develop her own individual self confidence, which is difficult enough for any of us.

But what this highlights to me is the issue of equality. Equality of opportunity is the watch word for our current political elite. Borrowed perhaps from the American dream, we cling to the idea that in a vibrant market driven capitalist economy, our measure of success is determined by our ability, more or less.

I suppose in many ways I stand as some kind of evidence of this- the child of a single parent, brought up by the welfare state, educated to degree level, now more or less middle class. However…

There is a devastating critique of this idea by Deborah Orr in today’s Guardian. Here are a few extracts-

The idea is that as long as there is “equality of opportunity”, then a highly competitive economic system that naturally sorts people into “winners and losers” – let’s call it a meritocracy – is perfectly reasonable. But the rhetoric is laughably fallacious. In a system that divides people into winners and losers, you can’t have “equality of opportunity”. The children of the winners will, broadly, always have the advantage. The children of the losers will, broadly, always have the disadvantage, theinability, if you will.

Welfare dependency is not a cause of society’s problems, but a consequence of them. Sadly, it is in the febrile interest of all mainstream politicians to continue pretending that it’s the other way round. The belief that you can transform society by prodding at welfare is similar to the belief that you can untangle knots by pushing at the ends of string.

What might this mean for those of us who are about to hand over our responsibilities to Emily’s generation? Will we saddle them with the same addictions to capitalist excesses? Or will we (and in turn they) find a different way untie the knots?

It is difficult to know where to begin on the macro scale- back to earlier discussions about the Grand Correction. But it is perfectly possible (if extremely challenging) to begin on the individual scale…

Some of this might be about an attitudinal shift, away from blaming the victims of our system-

Humans are not born equal, and individual vulnerabilities are not always easy to identify or to repair. Those who are stronger need to look after those who are weaker. It is precisely because humans are not good at doing this – it’s not in our aggressive, predatory natures – that so many people shrug at their inability to clothe, feed and house themselves. At the very least, this failure of the able should be recognised, rather than dressed up as a failure of the unable. Until it is, it’s hard to see how a better future can be imagined, let alone planned for.

But my greater hope is in Emily, and the desire for us to yet live together in a way that is less concerned with protecting what we have as we seek to gain more, and more concerned with sharing and supporting others, and living our lives in connection.

If anyone can do it, she can.

Living without electricity…

We are increasingly utterly dependent on what comes to us through cables. I know this to be a fact, as I have spent most of today coping with the consequences of what happens when the cables stop delivering.

Since the big storm on Tuesday, parts of Argyll have had no electricity. Other parts have had an intermittent supply. It has  taken a whole army of blokes spending three days and nights in the hills and forests tracing fallen lines, disentangling them from trees, reinstating the masts that were blown down and the transformers that burnt out.

The consequences of this are obvious- or at least is seems so at first. The lights will go off. And the TV- oh, and the computer of course.

But then you start to remember other things- the telephone system, even if the supply that keeps the line is live, probably will not work as your telephone will require power, as we expect it to do lots of things other than just being a telephone. You will get cold as the heating system will be controlled and pumped by electricity.

Slowly you start to realise that everything is controlled by computers. And computers are great, but get very sulky if you remove their supply of amps. They are very greedy for amps. So (as we found out) trying to set up an emergency kitchen, as the gas supply was still working, was futile as all the appliances need electricity too- even the gas hob, which shuts itself down without the extractor hood working.

I also heard that the phone lines on Bute stopped working as the emergency generator was kept behind a door controlled by- electricity. Oops.

Then, the longer the electricity is off, the more serious things start to get. You can not buy food, as no one pays with money any more- we all pay by computer. Also, all the chilled food in the supermarket goes off immediately.

Finally, there is the fact that even the care that we provide to many people is dependent on technology. Increasingly we care for our frail elderly by computer. It is cheaper. We use door alarms, pressure mats, intercom systems, and all sorts of other sensors and switches.

The effect of this on our communities has been interesting- in some it brought out the best. Neighbours who went the extra mile, supermarkets who opened their doors, people sharing warm firesides and warm soup. But then there were those who would ring the council and demand to know why we had not visited them or someone else to make things OK in some way- as if we had endless resources, and perfect knowledge.

The lessons for us as individuals are sobering- the weather seems to be changing here, and we can probably expect more of the same. Simplify your life from some of the gadgets. Keep some candles and cans in the cupboards. Make a note who which of your neighbours might need a bit of extra help, and knock on the door to have a conversation (you remember those- from before Facebook and MSN.)

And in cases of extremis, decide which one is going to get eaten first.

The bottle in the roots…

The other day I walked past some of the many trees  blown over at the weekend, including this one-

As the tree fell, it pulled up some of it’s roots as if in a last clawing attempt to stay upright, and in doing so, it kicked up some soil.

As I walked by, I saw a glint in the soil, and so I stooped and pulled out this bottle-

This little bottle is a window into lots of different stories.

First of all, we know that the fallen tree has to have been planted after 1917 (as the bottle has that date on the bottom.)

Next, the logos on the bottle are a glimpse into the refreshments of another generation. “J A Reid, Chemist, Reid’s Lily Springs, Pure as a Lily, 500 feet deep, Helensburgh.”

Around 1883 J.R.Reid set up as a chemist and aerated water manufacturer with a shop and factory at different addresses on Clyde Street, and several years later he moved manufacture to the Lily Springs in James Street. This was later owned by the well known Garvie lemonade firm, closing in 1957 because of alleged contamination of the water and moving to Milngavie until they closed that factory around 1985.

(From here.)

This is what our parents parents parents were drinking on their picnics. Carbonated, sweetened spring water of questionable purity.

This is what caught me- at some point, around 100 years ago, someone opened up this rather posh looking bottle during a wee holiday trip ‘doon the watter’. They were more adventurous than most, as they were not drawn in by the fleshpots of Dunoon– which during this period was a bit like Blackpool- cinemas, theatres,  ice cream parlours and all sorts of amusements. They chose a trip along the coast of the Holy Loch.

Perhaps they were cyclists slaking their thirst.

Or perhaps part of a family group settling down on the grassy shore line whilst the kids played in the water.

We will never know.

Album review- Paul Simon, ‘So beautiful, so what?’

Michaela bought me this for Christmas.

I watched a bit of the Glastonbury footage of Paul Simon and loved it. My brother in law was there and walked away as he was not impressed so I can only assume that it did not come across as well to the live audience.

However the album is full of interesting little twists and turns, along with great hooks and harmonies.

I was also impressed as ever by the songwriting- and the poetry of the lyrics.

When you have written songs that were the soundtrack of a whole generation (Simon wrote all of those old Simon and Garfunkel hits that are so familiar that we forget just how good they were) it must be hard to keep creating something new and interesting.

Yet this album is just that.

Here are the lyrics of my favourite song from the album…

Love And Hard Times

God and His only Son
Paid a courtesy call on Earth
One Sunday morning
Orange blossoms opened their fragrant lips
Songbirds sang from the tips of Cottonwoods
Old folks wept for His love in these hard times

“Well, we got to get going,” said the restless Lord to the Son
“There are galaxies yet to be born
Creation is never done
Anyway, these people are slobs here
If we stay it’s bound to be a mob scene
But, disappear, and it’s love and hard times”

I loved her the first time I saw her
I know that’s an old songwriting cliché
Loved you the first time I saw you
Can’t describe it any other way
Any other way
The light of her beauty was warm as a summer day
Clouds of antelope rolled by
No hint of rain to come
In the prairie sky
Just love, love, love, love, love

When the rains came, the tears burned, windows rattled, locks turned
It’s easy to be generous when you’re on a roll
It’s hard to be grateful when you’re out of control
And love is gone

The light at the edge of the curtain
Is the quiet dawn
The bedroom breathes
In clicks and clacks
Uneasy heartbeat, can’t relax
But then your hand takes mine
Thank God, I found you in time
Thank God, I found you
Thank God, I found you

Storm damage…

We were hit with a massive storm in the early hours of the morning – strange as there was no real prediction of the severity of this one. But we woke early to the howl of it. The window was slightly open in the bathroom and this was enough to blow the plants from the shelf. It also blew our front door open, as I had not put the bolt across.

We had quite a bit of damage outside-

William’s shed was physically moved by the force of it, and the roofing felt is in Kansas.

My workshop had roofing ripped away too.

One of our trees now lies in the neighbours garden.

We have lost a TV aerial and the satellite dish.

And, most strangely a surf board/body board appeared in our garden.

No sign of the surfer yet.

The back-to-work-after-Christmas Hakka…

The house is now empty after a wonderful time spent with friends over New Year. We always take a group photo, which always seems to be a record of the development of our kids, and the increasing decrepitude of we adults-

The other thing this photo reminds me of is the end of another Christmas/New Year break. A new year is upon us, and work begins again.

This year may (or may not) bring changes, but for now, the grind will grind on.

Andy and I were laughing about the feeling of needing to psych up for work. Almost like the New Zealand rugby team performing the Hakka-

So, by way of my own little hakka, I wrote some words. Imagine them being performed by men like those above.

Aaarrrrghhhhhhh

Grrrrrrrrrrrr

Scowl me out that stress-face

This holiday must fracture

Stoke the furnace, sound that bell

This man must manufacture

Aaarrrrghhhhhhh

Grrrrrrrrrrrr

Scrape the windscreen, warm the car

Before we once again commute

What was that bloody password?

I must again reboot

Aaarrrrghhhhhhh

Grrrrrrrrrrrr

A million unread  e-mails

Have scleroted up my in box

The undrunk mug of coffee

Is waiting for a detox

Aaarrrrghhhhhhh

Grrrrrrrrrrrr

There are those who are waiting

To mire me up in memos

Their words have little meaning

And even less good purpose

Aaarrrrghhhhhhh

Grrrrrrrrrrrr

I should have been a cave man

His was a better planet

The things we folk must do

To slay this seasons mammoth

Aaarrrrghhhhhhh

Grrrrrrrrrrrr

Smash some windows, kick some cats

Shout at the television

Tomorrow we must rise again

To earn some long division

Meditation walk- a few more photos…

Our meditation walk seems to be getting some good use! Our house guests walked it on NYD between the rain showers. I was relieved to see that the water wheel is still surviving, although there is quite a rise and fall in the water level of the stream.

If anyone in interested in the scripts/plan- give me a nod and I’ll send them on to you.

Here is a some of the poetry-

You are wrapped up in me

And I am bound up in you

We are held together by soft bindings

Like tender shoot and stake

Like mud and gentle rain

Like worn shoe and weary foot

Like tea and pot

Like universe and stars

Like ocean and rolling wave

Like fields and each blade of grass

There is now

And there is our still-to-come

Coming

New Year, 2012…

It is here.

As ever the speed of it all comes as a surprise.

Last night, we had a house full of friends and sang and played music for hours. This morning my fingers are almost too sore to type! At some point we had three guitars, bouzouki, piano, violin and bodhran. I have not enjoyed music as much for ages.

I was relatively early to bed- Michaela came up around 4.00.

As further evidence for the advancement of years, last night our kids were all busy in new and different ways (even though they were all part of joint celebrations too.) Emily had a ‘Launch Pad‘ for Christmas, and so we set up the study so she could do some mixing/dancing.

William and his friends practised for their own performance of a song.

Later we all sat and played cards.

It was simply lovely to spend time with these wonderful young people, with all their talents and potential.

So to old friends and new friends and still to become friends everywhere- may the year be one of blessing…

I took no photos at all last night- here are a few of Williams;