Αναθεώρηση : Introduction . . .

It is that time of year – indeed very precisely that time of year – that we look back before looking forward, when we review and consider what is behind us to prepare or plan for what is ahead of us.

A rear-view mirror glance, before focusing once again on the future - and the unknown. A chance to remember what we learned, feel what we felt, reflect on our progress and maybe smile at the good times. . . 

I have looked at 11 aspects or parts of my 2011, and tried to summarize the top 11 in each area  . . . because Top 10 is so clichéd, don’t you think?

Unlike some of the things I have written, this collection is intended to be relatively “light” and brief.

The categories are as follows:

1. People
2. Places
3. Sounds
4. Words
5. Body & Soul
6. Identity
7. Images
8. Moments
9. Created
10. Learned
11. For 2012 . . .

Tomorrow  - on January 1^st - I will post each part, but until then . . .

Happy New Year!

I wish you compassion, happiness, peace of mind and love.

Ο Ξένος . . .

Χώνευση - Digestion

To digest:

1. Physiology To convert (food) into simpler chemical compounds that can be absorbed and assimilated by the body, as by chemical and muscular action in the alimentary canal.

2. To think over so as to understand; absorb or assimilate.

3.

a. To organize into a systematic arrangement, usually by summarizing or classifying.

b. To condense or abridge (a written work).

4. Chemistry To soften or disintegrate by means of chemical action, heat, or moisture.

Digestion is a process which seems to preoccupy my life to a disproportionate degree. Not because of my well documented - and indeed amply demonstrated  - relationship with food. Not only that.

I am also preoccupied with digestion because of an obsession with understanding, of gaining clarity. A kind of curiosity on steroids.

Interestingly this kind of digestion resembles both the physiological kind of digestion referred to above and also the chemical.

At this point in time I am reflecting on the year that has passed and seeing what I have digested from it.

It has - in some ways - been a year like any other. I got older, did stuff, spent time with people, had some new experiences, repeated some old experiences, traveled, wrote some music, worked etc.

In other ways of course it was unique.

Those unique aspects of my year are among the harder parts to digest - partly by definition (they are new to my "system") and partly because for the most part they are complex and difficult subjects.

Broadly they relate to the topics of "connections / relationships", "death", "pain", "joy" and "time". Not that there is inherently anything unique in any of these topics, BUT there has been in my experience of them.

It strikes me that the phrase "history doesn't repeat itself, but it rhymes." might be quite aptly applied to the vast majority of our experiences while alive and conscious (and indeed perhaps while unconscious too.).

"Life doesn't repeat itself but it rhymes" - we have many patterns in our lives. Most are created in our early childhood environments, some are learned and acquired through behaviours and influences as we grow up and some are defined by our surroundings - people and places - but I'd guess that 80-90% of our behaviour and activity is in the field of "rhyming behaviour". If not an outright repeat of what we have done before, it is similar enough to either provide comfort and familiarity or to allow us to not pay too much attention to it . .

And that is one of my observations for this first of a series of "end of year" digestions . .

We should pay more attention to our "rhyming behaviour". We should stop and think why we do things the way we do them. Why do we think the way we do? What is the cause of our behaviour? What are the consequences?

Not because in the first instance we necessarily need to change - but because we should be more CONSCIOUS and aware of our lives and the way we behave and act. We should be more alert and present in our own existence - after all, we only do it once, and it would be both a shame and something of a waste to just let it slide by without thinking about it and really experiencing it actively . .

Perhaps, however, we do need to change some of our behaviours? Perhaps there are things to learn from our "rhyming behaviour" and repeated patterns that can help us get more from our lives. . for not all of our patterns and rhyming behaviours are healthy or good . . are they?

The 10% of life that is not "rhyming" and that  isn't made up of patterns playing out again and again, is the part that is - perhaps for want of a better word - "unique" .

My unique experiences in 2011 were those that punctuated life and provided the spice to the otherwise somewhat bland and predictable stew of everyday existence . .

These "unique" experiences that arrest us for a moment, that strike a chord - are they "unique" because they are startlingly different from everything else we have experienced, or are they "unique" because for one moment (or more) we are uniquely present, aware, focused and receptive to the experience, in contrast to our regular "rhyming behaviours" where we are largely switched off, passive and distanced from ourselves?

I don't have an answer for this question. It is not rhetorical.

I have only some empirical thoughts to go on - and some feelings - but both cause me to remain conflicted regarding the answer.

During this year I have certainly experienced acute joy and acute pain (both physical and emotional) and I have also been highly aware of time at points and at others, totally timeless and divorced entirely from any ticking clock. At some of those times I have been deeply aware of being alive. At others I have only been able to think of death. In my connections with others I have felt at times bonded to a depth beyond description and at times so lost and alone that "others" seem only to be abstracted ideas, and not real.

My effort to digest these experiences - to soften and disintegrate as well as to condense, order and absorb - has been torn between on the one hand the initial acceptance that some of these experiences are truly unique, and that this uniqueness drives my awareness of them in such focus and detail  and on the other hand the idea that in fact the experiences were in no way unique, but that for some reason during these experiences I gained light, focus, was present and connected, and thus they appeared to be unique because of their contrast with the ordinary, and the "rhyming" patterns.

I will think some more about this. And I will certainly write more about my reflections on and digestion of 2011.

Until then I can reassure you that my best moments in 2011 - whether unique, or only appearing to be unique because they were properly experienced, were the ones which were timeless, when I felt more alive than the Gods, when I was deeply connected and when I was blinded by light and joy.

Happily I remember more of those moments than the other kind . .

One consequence of this reflection and digestion is that I have resolved to spend more time questioning my patterns of behaviour in the future rather than just accepting them - especially those behaviours and actions which appear to just to rhyme, rather than chime or shine. .

In the meantime. .I gave up a "full stop". But I fear it was too late. .

Earlier this year, someone wrote about  my "Old Shoes & Picture Postcards" in the kindest and most inspiring of ways:
I went through the whole blog and I keep finding gems . .

In many ways, OSAPP is the product of my digestion of life and all that is around - or indeed is that digestion. For that reader as well as others I will endeavour to keep thinking and keep writing.

My next piece will be looking at the highlights and lowlights of 2011 in terms of my experience and some of things I saw in the world.

I'm off tomorrow for a brief trip and then it's Christmas, so will save my analysis of 2011 until after.

But until then, I wish you a Merry Christmas and in the words of the late, great Dave Allen - "Goodnight, good luck, and may your God go with you."

..

Insomnia #1 - Now-ness

Over the last few weeks I have not been sleeping well. In fact, I have hardly been sleeping at all.

I am used to difficult sleep patterns due to my constant travel and I am a light sleeper, but in the last few weeks my lack of sleep has been pretty acute.

I think there have been a number of contributory factors – pain (my shoulder), stress (work + life) and the influence of heavy anaesthetic for surgery which messed up my schedules totally – all in addition to the “had a bad day, got things on my mind, shouldn’t have had that cup of coffee” phenomenon that is more usual.

One of the good things about insomnia is that by definition you have a little more time on your hands.

This time allows you to think, to reflect, to consider and also more importantly perhaps to simply absorb, to get used to things or make things part of you. Something which ordinary time passing does anyway – but with insomnia ordinary time is accelerated slightly through having more hours awake.

It also gives you the chance to catch up comfortably with other insomniacs without the deadlines of appointments, work, etc. Nighttime is free time for everyone - although most people choose to use this time for sleeping – so as long as your insomniac friends are in the same time zone then conversation is very relaxed.

Several conversations I have had over the last few weeks, combined with my own experiences have led me to focus on thinking about the idea of “Now”. The present. This ephemeral, yet timeless state of being we all exist in but surprisingly few choose to live in . . .

We usually segment our lives into three time parts and spend, frankly, an enormous amount of time on two without spending nearly enough time on the third part. Those parts are our “past” which we usually characterize as our experience and the “future” which we usually characterize as our dreams, our goals, our ambitions. We think that our past prepares us for our future, somehow even decides our future.

We think of past and future, experience and dreams, as good things. Positive, helpful things. We spend hours, days, weeks actively engaged in two activities which I am going to argue are ultimately pointless, but more than this, are damaging.  We all too rarely stop to consider, let alone LIVE, the part that is sandwiched in the middle. The present. The “now”.

Reflection & projection. Considering the past, planning the future. We do it in our work – where we call it reviewing and planning – and we do it in our personal lives. Almost all the time.

As a result we miss almost entirely the opportunity of the present. Because the present is a constant dynamic – indeed it is almost an abstract concept – it has the possibility of eternity. IF we can find a way to live in the present more completely, I believe we can live more happily.

Broadly speaking our obsession as people with the past and the future, on reflection and projection follows two main paths – both equally unhelpful and dangerous. One path is the path of negativity and the other of positivity. Let me explain . . .

Negativity is easier for most of us to understand. Consideration of the past in terms of negative reflection is usually described as “regret”. The mistakes we made, the choices that turned out badly, the things we wish now – with the benefit of hindsight – to have done differently.  Except hindsight is a deception. A sleight of hand.

“If I’d known then what I know now, then I wouldn’t have done X”.  In other words, if someone could have told me the future, I would have had better information to make my choices. . . But of course no-one can tell the future.

Hindsight – or the ability to see looking back – is a psychological game we play with ourselves to try and prepare for the future. Looking back is in fact looking forward. Trying to desperately find something in the past that can predict the future that we are all so obsessed with. But it cannot.

Why do we obsess with looking back and reflecting on our regrets? Because we are afraid, often terrified, of the future. Our nature as humans is that we want everything to be wonderful and we are terrified that it might not be. So we spend an inordinate amount of time trying to control, influence and predict what we cannot. The future.

We make our choices in life and then we live with them. The ones we don’t like we can choose to see as mistakes and regret them OR we can choose to see them as steps in a progression which is as integral a part of us and our identity and states as the DNA which we are born with.

While I am not saying that we should never look back and consider our actions – we should – I am saying that we should not spend too much time in this or attach too much importance.

Mostly because we will find in our future fearing logic, that we have made millions of errors. And our regret will start to punish us with melancholy and increased fear for the future until the point we become totally depressed and totally paralyzed in the face of tomorrow, unable to make any decision in case it is a “bad one” and so spoils our plans for the future.

Instead I would advocate that we reflect on our mistakes in the following ways:

1. Mistakes are permanent. And once made are as irreversible as ink on paper. (There is a Buddhist parable that I read years ago that seeks to explain karma - A man wakes in the night, takes his pen and writes a letter. Later he decides he is not happy with the letter and takes the paper and puts it in the flame of the candle. The paper is burned and the letter is no more. But while the physical evidence of the letter is no more, this does not actually remove the existence of the letter. It was written. Paper and ink were used. It occurred in time. It therefore exists and can never be unwritten. So it is with mistakes.). So once we accept the mistake, our regret is redundant. Regretting something cannot undo it. It will not make it disappear. And it will not prevent it from happening again necessarily – another naïve idea that we hold. That focusing on our mistakes and regretting them will somehow magically prevent us from making them again. It won’t. (Not that there are not ways of avoiding mistakes in the future – there are, but I will come to that later).
2. Mistakes are human. To make a mistake, a “bad” choice, to screw something up is not a weakness that somehow causes us to fail in our bid for humanity and life. Conversely, it is something that qualifies us for humanity and life. We would not be human or have any quality of life if we did not make mistakes. It is not something we should punish ourselves for, but something we should embrace as vital and necessary for our continued happiness. Our mistakes expand our experience and grow us just as much -  and sometimes more – than our other learnings. They sometimes leave us with pain or unhappiness, but without pain or unhappiness, how would we know what comfort and happiness feel like?
3. Mistakes are who we are. They define us, shape us, make us who we are. Instead of regretting our mistakes we should recognize that at any given second or fragment of time in the present, we are there and who we are in part (often large part) because our mistakes brought us there and made us who we are. Now –before anyone says, “yes, but my life is unhappy, and I do not want to be this person now in the present and it is because of my mistakes I am”, let me clarify that unhappiness in the present is only there due to the inability or failure to actually live in the present and the now.

People who are unhappy live not in the present – they are absent from their lives because they are living in the past and the future.

The American author and playwright Fulton Oursler wrote:

“Many of us crucify ourselves between two thieves - regret for the past and fear of the future.”

The past and future steal from us. Our obsession with them takes away our present. And – by default and definition – we are actually only alive in the present. We cannot be alive in the past because it has gone and we cannot be alive in the future because it is yet to happen. So if we are absent from the present because of this obsession, then we are not alive. Or at least not living.

It is not just “reflection” and the consideration of the past that can confuse us, and steal from our present, our now. The future is equally problematic when we end up obsessed with “projection”.

It is something of a natural condition to be afraid of the future. To fear it. After all what is more normal than fearing the unknown. And the future is the one true and complete unknown for all of us. Worse, the only thing we as humans know about the future is that we are going to die at some point. So – pretty clear why it might be scary. We have no clue what’s there and it will end in death.

When looking at our negative approach to our existence in time we can see how focusing on our past causes pain and detracts from the only time we are alive – the present. We can also see why this drives us to additional fear for the future.

This additional fear is built on the premise that “If I made so many mistakes in the past, caused so much pain and unhappiness for myself, then if I don’t find out why and stop this from happening again then I will make mistakes like these in the future and my life will never be happy. And time is running out for I will die in the future and who knows when...”

We have all had that thought in some degree or another at some point. This terror is common – and particularly common to people who have lost the ability to live in the present. They are truly crucified between regret for the past and fear for the future as Oursler wrote. But we say that history doesn’t repeat itself. So why would our future be a repeat of our past? Just because we fear that it might be doesn’t mean that it will.

Indeed, if we accept that our mistakes are not to be regretted but to be seen as steps in a progression that makes us who we are in the present (see above), then we can probably – at least logically – expect that process to continue in the future. So instead of constant repetition of the past, we can enjoy growth and development.

We project far too much of our past on the future than we should. I think one reason is that given the choice of complete unknown or something, however regret laden it might be, we think that something is more concrete and that we can somehow work on it and create some predictability and hope that will help us approach the future more comfortably.  

This is, however, a false notion. The future remains always unknown – no matter what we try to project on to it. Positive or negative. We cannot control, predict or shape our future any more than we can eradicate or undo the mistakes we have made in the past (which again, I argue, are not mistakes and not worthy of regret. They were just choices which we made for good enough reasons at the time. AND those choices led us to “now”.)

Reflection and projection are not confined only to the negative.  We also reflect and project in what we think is a positive way about both the past and the future. Our happy memories and our dreams for the future. They are good, wholesome and make us feel warm and happy.

Except they are as equally unhelpful, painful and dangerous as our regrets and fears . . .

Our happy memories are no different from our memories of our mistakes. Indeed while we “over” regret our mistakes, we tend to “over” celebrate and nurture our happy memories. Like mistakes, those things we did that brought us happiness and joy cannot be eradicated or undone - they are permanent. But also like mistakes they are no predictor for the future. They have led us – together with our mistakes – to where we are now. In the present.

But if we believe our memories of past happiness are going to somehow mitigate the fear of the future then we are deceiving ourselves. Because the moment that this does not happen – and it cannot logically happen – our past memories of happiness will slowly come to be seen as mistakes and the cause of regret which will in turn burden us with greater fear for the future.

The same is true of positive projections in the future – our so called “dreams”, “goals”, “ambitions” . . .

I was asked recently by someone to share what my dream life would be. I was unable to answer. I made some attempts at describing how I would live – values, beliefs etc – but I was unable to easily answer “what” specifically would be my “dream life”. The only thing I could think of was what is lacking to me in the present. What do I want in my life - now.

Contrast with a few years ago when I had plans and goals and dreams galore. Timetables, specific milestones, achievements, benchmarks, directions and so on. I used to project into the future and create a whole life of results, progress, and destinations. Except I started noticing that almost nothing turned out according to plan. Nothing worked out personally or professionally. Indeed some things happened that were so “off plan” that it would have been scarcely imaginable to me that these things could happen when I had been making those plans . . .

Of course I spent quite a bit of time looking back and reflecting on my plans and dreams and finding that this difference between what had happened and what I planned or dreamed for myself was huge. I concluded that I must have made mistakes if my plans had failed – and it was of course easy to find the mistakes. Anything that took me away from the plan was a bad decision. Anything that ended up with me being unhappy in the past was a bad decision or a mistake. It became very easy to build a large catalogue of mistakes and analyses to go with them that would form my encyclopedia of regret. And I punished myself for this by setting stricter and stricter directions and guidelines for the future. If my laxness and lack of discipline, thought and analysis in the past had caused my mistakes, then my discipline, focus and effort in the future would ensure this would not happen again. I re-cast my dreams with more specificity and rules, more direction and guidelines. I would achieve my plans, I thought. I just needed to be more sensible, tougher on myself and it would all come true.

Well you don’t need to read this to know that of course that didn’t happen. Life continued to unfold in ways that could never be predicted. Some brought happiness, some brought sadness and all took me further and further away from the plan and the dreams I had made. My discipline and toughness on myself only caused me more distress to add to the building regret, and the increasing desperation of finding a solution to the future. Finding a way to ensure my plans came true.

I don’t remember when or even if I had an epiphany on this subject – perhaps it was in the period after my divorce – but I came to the conclusion that if I didn’t want my plans to fail, I should examine again why they failed and work from there.

I discovered that the reason why my dreams never came true as I had imagined them and my plans never worked out as I wanted was not because I made mistakes. It was simply because my plans could never work and my dreams could never come true for the simple reason that they were built on things in the future that were unknown and the further the plan or the dream reached into the future, the further it was destined for failure.

While this discovery was exciting it was also worrying at the same time. What will I do if all my plans are destined to failure? If all the specific things I have dreamed of are in fact subject to so many unknown variables that they too cannot succeed? And of course all plans and dreams are vulnerable to failure when any part of them relies on the unknown - and I am yet to see a dream or plan for life which doesn't . . . 

So – I decided to stop planning and stop dreaming. At first it was a question of simply scaling down my plans in terms of specifics and timescale. I made plans for a much shorter period of time (I think this comes naturally with age by the way although logic can provide the method for younger people) and I was much less rigid about the specifics of those plans.

As time passes I have very few dreams and plans of any real specificity. I allow myself to speculate on the future occasionally – it is very hard not to - but now I try to live in the present as much as I can. And that means accepting that things could go this way, or they could go that way. By being closer to myself and having a better relationship with my self - I can roll with life. I’ll deal with what I need to deal with when it comes and not before.

For example: I was recently given some positive future looking news about my professional life. It was nice to hear. But I refused to get very excited about it precisely because it is in the future. Friends and loved ones on the other hand got very excited and some even began talking around the possible future development as though it had happened already. I know that it could happen, but I also know that it could not happen. Indeed I know that I might make it not happen, just as much as someone else might make it happen for me. My point being, I took the “now” part of the news – which made me feel good. It made me feel positive and recognized. I left the future part of the news for the future.

The same thing applies to the question I was asked about my dreams – my specific dreams for my life in the future. All I could answer was what I want / need / am missing now. It was a very simple thing that I answered. Very clear and understandable – because it is now. It is not built on the assumptions about a future we cannot know nor the fear of a future decided by our past. It is built on who I am and what I want now. Now. Now. Now.

It is not easy to live in the Now. First it is hard to detach from the habits of reflection and projection. Second it is hard to live outside the structure that these give us – for they do give us structure. Third it requires us to be comfortable with ourselves – for in the Now we are very present and connected to ourselves. And that means trusting ourselves – a lot. That’s hard to do in the beginning and is foreign for many people, but you have to ask:

“Do I dare

Disturb the universe?”

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock – T.S. Eliot

Prufrock is the ultimate example of someone who has exiled himself from “now” and only lives in the past and future – trapped and denied life. This is the true sadness, indeed tragedy, of Prufrock – the absence of now. Indeed the “women who come and go, talking of Michelangelo” are the only evidence of “now” in the poem and they are the contrast to Prufrock and his thoughts. They are living, Prufrock is not.

“Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions
And for a hundred visions and revisions
Before the taking of a toast and tea.”

Terrorized by fear of the future he is paralyzed from making decisions, and ends up using time as his way of avoiding them . . .and life.

“In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse”

No-one needs to be a Prufrock  - they simply need to choose to live in the “Now”.

[And you who are reading this and know these words, you are not Prufrock either. You never were – you were just frightened you could become him. You will not wear the bottom of your trousers rolled. One of the reasons I am here is to show you that. As you have slowly begun to realize . . ]

We need to be able to accept pain and happiness on equal terms. To feel them and see where they take us –without caving into the temptation to reflect or project. Trust yourself – and the reason we should trust ourselves is because we are the most authentic true individuals in our lives. Accepting that truth is a leap – but once taken life changes quickly afterwards. Not without bumps in the road ahead of course, but no walls, fences or mountains any more . . .

When we are sad we tend to want to find the reason, analyze it, and then devise a way to avoid it in the future. We then look to what the future will be like when we do this and it makes us hopeful as we project a desired happiness. Then we create our plan. We fear it may not come true though because the past was sad, therefore so much the future.

When we are happy we want to find the reason, analyze it and then devise a way to sustain it in the future. We then look to what the future will be like when we do this and it makes us hopeful as we project our desired happiness. Then we create our plan. When it starts to unravel we start to reflect and see all our once projected decisions and dreams as mistakes and we begin the cycle of regret.

When we live in the now we focus on the present. We are where we are and there is no point in over analyzing why. In the past we took decisions, we made choices. There is happiness and there is pain. But we are here. We must accept it. We must dare to disturb the universe.

We must ask ourselves only a few questions - Am I happy, fulfilled, satisfied? If yes, then good. If not, then what is missing? What is missing now – not in the future. But find what you need now – don’t force the future on yourself now. It is pointless. And don’t wear the past around your neck like a noose – it is also useless.

If we can figure out how we want to live – values, beliefs – the what, where and with whom we will live will come to us. It will come in amazing ways.

Once many years ago - when I still had plans - I sat with friends in a tavern in Greece one winter’s evening and drank wine by the wood fire. One of the friends – who I did not know very well – began to ask me questions about my plans in life, my dreams. In those days I could answer this question immediately and I did. She then asked me the simplest of questions “And when you achieve that, what next?”. I had an answer for that too. And she repeated her question. This went on and on until I had not only run out of answers for a grossly projected future, but I had become terrified of the void that was my ultimate answer – “I don’t know”.

I had crashed into the reality of the future. I also took something else away from that evening. From all my planning and all my worrying about the future, as well as all my regret and despair at the mistakes of my past – I had been missing the point. I was not living now. Later that night I wept – mourning all the things I had let slip from my hands while looking back or looking ahead and not looking beside me. I wept at my foolishness and shortsightedness and eventually I wept with relief and joy that I had at least now realized the point. It’s all about now – because now is the only place and time we are alive. There is no future. And the past is gone, left us. There is only now. That was the point. So live it.

I still weep frequently  - something which some people find odd. I do try to do it privately - for other people’s sakes more than mine as it makes them uncomfortable – but I weep often. I weep from joy and from sadness – and I find weeping is a very “now” thing.

"Now" doesn’t mean we don’t have pain or joy – it just means we live through it rather than detach it for analysis through the prisms of reflection and projection.

So – this has been a long piece, but it’s been on my mind for a while and stimulated much by conversations and insomnia - a very “now” condition which doesn’t allow any past or future.

“Now” is hard, but it is rewarding.

Dare to disturb the universe. Embrace “Now-ness”.

“When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us.” Alexander Graham Bell – American inventor of the telephone

Paris #4 - Paris . . . A "rose" from the street . . .

I put this piece together from images that I shot mainly in and around the Marais district of Paris . . . street art, graffiti and signage, all telling a small tale of Paris and the things that have inspired me here . . .

The song accompanying the images is "Mon Amie La Rose" by Francoise Hardy . . . she has a beautiful voice and this is a beautiful song, which I think must have been inspired in part by Le Petit Prince, (see "Rose" in http://www.sparknotes.com/lit/littleprince/canalysis.html ). The lyrics are below in the original French and in translation.

To download or view at best quality, go here: http://gallery.me.com/david_j_robinson#100366

Mon Amie La Rose (Francoise Hardy)

On est bien peu de chose 
Et mon amie la rose 
Me l'a dit ce matin 

A l'aurore je suis née 
Baptisée de rosée 
Je me suis épanouie 
Heureuse et amoureuse 
Aux rayons du soleil 
Me suis fermée la nuit 
Me suis réveillée vieille 

Pourtant j'étais très belle 
Oui j'étais la plus belle 
Des fleurs de ton jardin 

On est bien peu de chose 
Et mon amie la rose 
Me l'a dit ce matin 

Vois le dieu qui m'a faite 
Me fait courber la tête 
Et je sens que je tombe 
Et je sens que je tombe 
Mon cœur est presque nu 
J'ai le pied dans la tombe 
Déjà je ne suis plus 

Tu m'admirais hier 
Et je serai poussière 
Pour toujours demain. 

On est bien peu de chose
Et mon amie la rose
Est morte ce matin

La lune cette nuit
A veillé mon amie
Moi en rêve j'ai vu
Eblouissante et nue
Son âme qui dansait
Bien au-delà des nues
Et qui me souriait

Crois celui qui peut croire
Moi, j'ai besoin d'espoir
Sinon je ne suis rien

Ou bien si peu de chose
C'est mon amie la rose
Qui l'a dit hier matin 

TRANSLATION:

We are truly insignificant
And that's what my friend the rose
Told me this morning

I was born at dawn
Baptised in dew
I blossomed
In the rays of the sun
Happy and in love
I closed my petals at night
And when I awoke I was old.

Yet I had been beautiful
Yes, I was the most beautiful
Of all the flowers in your garden

We are truly insignificant
And that's what my friend the rose
Told me this morning

See, the God that made me
Now makes me bow my head
And I feel I'm falling
And I feel I'm falling
My heart is almost bare
I have a foot in my grave
Already I am nothing

You admired me only yesterday
And I shall be dust
Forever, tomorrow

We are truly insignificant
And my friend the rose
Died this morning

Last night the moon
Kept vigil over my friend
And in a dream I saw
Her soul, dancing
Dazzling and naked,
Above the heavens,
Smiling on me.

Let those who can, believe
But I need Hope
Or else I am nothing 

We are truly insignificant
And that's what my friend the rose
Told me this morning

Paris #3 - Carte Postale

Roller-bladers - one obviously still learning as he wobbles and weaves nervously - skate past on a semi-deserted avenue pavement...

A crazy man tears up rubbish and spreads it across the road with intensity and purpose, but only he knows why...

An obviously bored American waits patiently while his wife seeks directions to any shops that are upon, but it is Sunday and his patience will be tested some more...

Couples stroll hand-in-hand, their gaze wandering alternately here and there, only to momentarily return to each other every few paces...

A man struggles in the chilly breeze to light the cigarette of his beloved. A strange act of gallantry as he assists her in acquiring terminal disease or at the very least discomfort and pain...

"Les motos" buzz energetically as they strain away from the traffic lights like urban bumble bees searching for flowers to settle on at some point down the road...

The breeze ruffles hairstyles and stylish ladies frown with anxiety as their locks are tortured gently by the wind...

The grey sky sits above like a mildly threatening blanket, undecided as to whether it will darken or not, perhaps to cry some heavenly tears. Perhaps not...

A young man walks with pride in his formal cashmere overcoat half covering his tracksuit trousers and worn out trainers, a silk scarf knotted round his neck...

Coffee spills on a trouser leg, a sudden reminder of the here & now, but it's cold and no damage is done...

Buses pass with anonymous passengers heading somewhere at the mercy of a driver whose direction is mapped out with certainty not hope...

Endless troupes of suitcase wheeling travellers filter through the pavements as though part of some secret Sunday celebration of the necessity of luggage...

Parisian housewives in diamonds and fur coats match them with their shopping baskets on wheels, their elegance refined, their pragmatism defined, their destinations aligned...

I sit and watch, recording with amusement and curiosity - wondering about their lives for just a few brief seconds of ephemeral concentration...

...

Paris #2 - Rodin Gardens

I spent the late morning and afternoon at the Rodin Museum - most of it in the glorious gardens.

How civilised to display such iconic works as "The Thinker" in a garden surrounded by well groomed bushes, beautiful roses and well cut lawns. This is how art like this should be displayed - with plenty of benches (and there were) to just sit and contemplate.

"The Thinker" - Auguste Rodin

(There is an interesting observation to be made about contemplating a sculpture that is all about contemplation - but I am afraid it escapes me right now...)

Rodin was - it is evident from this lovely museum - a prolific creator. And his work is truly worthy of a museum to itself.

The masculine figures ooze strength, balanced musculature, beautiful proportions - with the whole history of sculpture contained within each... But yet they are not "heavy". They are not overdone - the physical strength of the male form is balanced with a sensibility and grace which lifts them from being just models of man to being somehow essence of man. Some playful, some full of gravitas.

While Rodin's treatment of the male form is classical and extrapolated, in some contrast his females are sensuous, graceful, so feminine and delicate it is hard to not imagine them with blood and flesh instead of bronze and marble (and terra cotta).

In particular the faces of his female sculptures have the delicacy of a woman's face, the softness, the beauty. They make me want to hold them gently in my hand.

This to me tells me that Rodin managed not just to sculpt forms that were somehow literal - but also he captured something "essential".

The gardens are just wonderful. Perfect for a gentle stroll with sculptures dotted around to arrest the gentle walker in his or her paces to consider for a moment, before moving on surrounded by flowers and manicured ornamental lawns and geometrically arranged water features.

Gardens of the Rodin Museum

A simple cafe provided lunch, rest and a couple of hours of quiet contemplation of the beautiful things in life - things which are to be nurtured, treasured, admired, respected and adored. As these works of art are taken care of and celebrated in this museum and garden - so should we take care of beauty - whether physical or metaphysical - in our lives.

All beauty should have a garden. Alive and full of life.

And now my walk continues...

Paris #1 - Ramblin' & Rodin

After a much delayed flight I finally arrived at Charles De Gaulle Airport and headed to the centre of town to my hotel near the Opera on Rue La Fayette.

The view from the car window allowed me to glimpse a piece of "Paris by night", a cliche phrase that somehow - like many cliches perhaps - seemed very "a point" as I looked at the mellow lighting of this gorgeous city and admired the first tastes of the unmistakable architecture.

Determined to get into a "La Boheme" spirit I arrived at my hotel in the mood of a travelling artist looking for his "garret" for the next three days. Clearly a laughable proposition as my limo dropped me off at the 250 Euro a night boutique hotel resplendent with wi-fi, Bang & Olufsen telephones and mood lighting - and not to mention that not many starving artistes arrive by air, with 15 kilos of cameras and lenses etc... But never mind...

Exhausted, I slept almost immediately, undecided as to what I would do today.

On waking comparatively early I hit the laptop and started looking at how my steps might be traced for the next couple of days combining art, architecture and aimlessness.

Hopping from one Arrondissement to the next on the digital maps I noted all the places I wanted to visit and even looked up opening times and special exhibits. Very organised.

A quick change of dressings on the infernal finger, showered and clothed I set off with some vague sense of purpose and exited to the street into a grey cloud covered sky with a previous rain showing moistly on the ground.

I managed 200 metres before diving into a pavement seat at a stereotypical Parisian cafe and promptly ordered coffee, bread and juice. Necessary preparations for the long walk ahead.

I call this blog "Old Shoes & Picture Postcards" for reasons explained in several earlier posts. Today I had put on distinctly old (but comfortable) shoes. And as I wandered from the Opera to Place Vendome, I started to see the Picture Postcard component.

To say this city is romantic is like saying Las Vegas lacks a little taste... A massive understatement.

It is breathtakingly romantic. That is the only word that I can think of to adequately describe the whole sensation of walking the streets of Paris. Romantic as in William Blake and romantic as in Petrarch & Dante, Romantic as Verlaine and Rimbaud. One literally aches with romance as you walk through the streets of Paris.

Most of all it's romantic like Rick & Ilsa in Casablanca. "We'll always have Paris" he said to her. I think perhaps everyone should always have Paris....

I meandered past the fabulous boutiques of Cartier, Bulgari, and other monuments to the celebration of woman, love and romance and headed towards the Jardins De Tuileries, bumping into a man who was the spitting image of Samuel Beckett along the way.

The gardens were filled with autumn leaves underfoot, provided by avenues of trees shedding their jewels for winter time and creating a carpet for the joggers, families and strolling couples criss-crossing the pathways, all heading somewhere, but only some of them knowing where.

In the corner of this little park, by the Place De Concorde, is the Musee De L'Orangerie. The building picked by Monet personally to hold his large paintings of the water lillies. I had visited some twenty odd years ago in a post examination summer visit with my mother - the cultural bastion of the family - and was somewhat curious to return.

But I found I could not go in. Not because access was denied or any physical impediment, but because I simply did not want to. I can't explain exactly what came over me, but I just couldn't go in. I felt better to stay outside, in the park.

Instead of entering the museum, I loitered - with quite some intent - by the bronze of Rodin's "Le Baiser" (The Kiss). I am a big Rodin fan and this work is sublime.

Somehow today in the grey, cold and damp environs of the park, this bronze seemed even more powerful and evocative to me. It contains the essence of human erotic contact - it is intensely physical, the whole of the two bodies intertwined in a dynamic embrace and yet despite the physicality it is also incredibly tender and delicate, metaphysical, emotional.

"Le Baiser" - Auguste Rodin

The strength of the man holding the woman with definitive grip, the woman abandoning herself to his embrace, their heads turned to allow their mouths the most full and frontal contact possible, eyes closed, her arm resting on his leg, his hand supporting her thigh as she sits on his lap.

The most wonderful, most tender, most poignant, joyous and heart aching kiss you ever had looks like this. Feels like this.

I crossed over the bridge to the Rive Gauche and made my way to the Musee D'Orsay having decided that the Monet's might wait until tomorrow when I may be more prepared to enter and see them.

As I walked along the banks of the Seine I had a curious, inexplicable feeling that I was not alone. That someone was with me. As I walked, I began to feel that the more I walked, the more likely it was that that person would appear. Feeling like Orpheus I dared not look back - preferring to hold the thought in my imagination as I took my steps.

Maybe there is a far away spirit that is supposed to be here with me - the lone traveller - in Paris.

At the Musee D'Orsay I was once again confronted with a strong desire to NOT go in. It wasn't the queues for entry that put me off - but a curious feeling that today I must be outside. I must walk and be among people and buildings, breathing the air and moving through this city.

And this is truly a city for walking. Most great cities have a "walking" component - some classic places for a stroll. The parks of London, New York and Madrid all spring to mind. The alleyways and turns of Trastevere in Rome, the centre of Florence, Gamla Stan in Stockholm, Las Ramblas and Istklal Caddesi in Barcelona and Istanbul respectively - but Paris is ALL designed for walking. Rain or shine.

As I sit and write this outside the Musee D'Orsay, I am beginning to think that this trip to Paris is a reconnaissance mission. This is maybe why I cannot go inside these museums.

I plan to get lost in the Left Bank now and wander to St Germain Des Pres and Le Marais ... And just take in the steps, note things for tomorrow or the next time I am here.

There is one garden I will visit - filled with sculptures - and where I will sit for a while and reflect. But everywhere else I think I will just wander by - in preparation for next time...

Until then I don't want to spoil it...

Unplugged . . .Part 2

While I’m “acoustic” I thought I’d take another look at a theme I mulled over in the summer – “The Courage to Live”.

The original piece I wrote was inspired by - and in response to - a part philosophical, part existential question posed by a person very dear to me.

While this second analysis of the subject started with my own musings on dealing with the adversities of life, I found much inspiration from the thoughts of two men – Walter Anderson (an American magazine editor) and Rollo May (an existential psychologist & author).

I came across both men while researching this piece and was struck by Anderson’s very common sense logic and simplicity and by May’s altogether more challenging thinking in his pioneering work in existential psychology.

In particular May’s belief that apathy was the opposite to love and that as humans our unique knowledge that we are to die, liberates the human will to act and to be. In other words, our lives are defined by the knowledge that one day we will die.

We either act against that continually and live, love, act - or we accept it apathetically and let our selves deteriorate to almost non-existence. Either we find the meaning of life inside ourselves, or we accept that life has no meaning, and therefore we as beings are meaningless.

The last time I tackled this subject I focused on optimism as the driver for courage. The ability to see the possible, the positive, the good and the upside. To be hopeful.

I think optimism – of which I am a committed practitioner – is one half of the courage to live. But I think that there is another part to courage that is equally important and perhaps a pre-cursor to optimism. It’s about choosing life – and the things necessary to make that choice . . .

“I am responsible. Although I may not be able to prevent the worst from happening, I am responsible for my attitude toward the inevitable misfortunes that darken life. Bad things do happen; how I respond to them defines my character and the quality of my life. I can choose to sit in perpetual sadness, immobilized by the gravity of my loss, or I can choose to rise from the pain and treasure the most precious gift I have – life itself.” - Walter Anderson

To choose life we need courage.

Courage is a big challenge for many of us. That inner strength or confidence to take on something we have no idea will work out, to face a difficult truth or fear, to pass through a difficult period. Where the downside is loss, pain, expense, cost, discomfort or some other misfortune and where the upside may be invisible, or only partially clear. . . that’s quite a big bet for a lot of us, and it’s something we face on an almost daily basis.

Of course most of us find the courage we need for the little things in life through comparative experiences. If this does not work then we turn perhaps to our friends, our families, colleagues, or our partners – but the big things in life are much more difficult.

We need a special kind of courage to deal with those big challenges and fears – we need courage from within.

And I believe courage is born of trust. Optimism may sustain that courage, but for it to be born, it is born of trust.

Trust of ourselves.

“Our lives improve only when we take chances and the first and most difficult risk we can take is to be honest with ourselves.” Walter Anderson

It sounds simple, but it isn’t. To trust ourselves we must make ourselves vulnerable to our very own self. We must first expose and then accept our fears, our weaknesses, our challenges and those parts of our selves we would rather ignore or rather run away from.

Not only must we accept them and acknowledge them, we must embrace them. We must bring them close to us and see that they are a part of our “self”.

This is very hard for many of us as it often involves struggling with feelings of guilt, low self-esteem, bitterness, sadness and frequently a feeling of being lost, confused, out of control, consumed and detached from our good selves. These are unpleasant emotions and behaviors at the best of times and we naturally do not want to dwell on them – but dwell on them we must if we are to understand them and accept them.

As we spend time becoming accustomed to our “dark sides”, our fears and our weaknesses, we can begin to contextualize them, and then begin to accept them as part of us.

First we should accept that our fears, weaknesses and occasional bad behaviors are human. They are natural and they are normal. We all have them; they are part of every one of us.

None of us is “damaged goods” just because we are afraid sometimes, just because we are weak occasionally or because we behave badly now and again.

If we are jealous or angry, selfish or harsh, nasty or cold it is only because we are also compassionate and patient, generous and gentle, affectionate and warm.

I believe that to a large degree our personalities are defined by duality  - as it is through contrast we understand what is right and good, and what is wrong and bad. As good defines evil and vice versa, so do our happy and good characteristics define our unhappy and bad ones (and vice versa).

Second, to accept our “selves” as “whole” by acknowledging all of our characteristics and personality traits is not an act of relegation or dismissal. It is an act of forgiveness.

However, forgiveness is not absolution.

To forgive our self is not license or permission to behave without consequence – it is instead to acknowledge our mistakes, our weaknesses and to resolve first to live with them and second to work with them.

Think of coming to the realization that one is overweight for example. To forgive oneself for being overweight is a healthy thing to do. To see that forgiveness as permission to carry on being overweight and neglect oneself is not healthy. To build on the forgiveness of oneself by resolving to lose weight and thus take care of one self better is the healthy response. (A personal example there!)

An alternative might be hurting someone’s feelings. Initially on becoming conscious of this “bad” behavior, we might feel guilty and remorseful. We might even “punish” ourselves in some way – but instead we should forgive ourselves and then build. By which I mean, acknowledge that hurting people happens. We don’t mean to hurt most of the time and when we do so we need to accept it as part of life. An ugly part of life by which we can also understand a more beautiful part like care, affection, nurture (the opposites or contrasts of “hurting someone”). But then we must move on to build and resolve. Why did we hurt that person? What caused it? Can we avoid doing so in the future? Can we at least mitigate the hurt we cause? These kinds of questions – if answered honestly and truly – can help us understand our behavior better – and consequently avoid it (at least more often) if we resolve to.

And there is a good reason for us to go to this trouble of acknowledgment, forgiveness, analysis and resolution . . .

Learning to live with one’s fears, weaknesses and negative behaviors is learning to take care of oneself. It is the act of care for one’s “self” that enables us to grow as people and to find balance and peace.

Taking care of ourselves is the most basic expression of love for our “self” – and in turn the most basic way of reassuring ourselves that we have value, that we are worthy, that we are attractive, desirable and so on.

"To love means to open ourselves to the negative as well as the positive - to grief, sorrow, and disappointment as well as to joy, fulfillment, and an intensity of consciousness we did not know was possible before."  Rollo May

It will not and cannot prevent us entirely from facing fear or weakness again – but it provides us with the means to begin to be comfortable enough with our “self” to be able to trust and trust provides us with the mechanism with which to deal with our fears and weaknesses – as our trust in others allows us to deal with theirs.

We usually think of trust as something we direct to someone else – and not to ourselves. Not something that relates to our relationship with our “self”. But in fact, no matter how much we may want to, we cannot trust anyone else if we cannot trust our “self”. 

Think of this quotation – again from Walter Anderson:

“We're never so vulnerable than when we trust someone - but paradoxically, if we cannot trust, neither can we find love or joy”.

Think of the same concepts but placing our “self” in place of “someone”.  If we cannot trust ourselves, how can we trust anyone else?

And if we cannot trust then we cannot love.

I am slightly unusual in this regard in that I place a lot of trust and faith in people based on either instinct or hope or both.  In my professional life it is called “empowerment” and for me it has always been the force that motivates me to do and be my best at work. When I have been trusted I will go the extra mile and more. I do not want to let that person down. As a result of my own experience I tend to trust and empower others. I trust in something I have no reason to – in other words I have faith.

In my personal life it is less about empowerment per se than it is about a desire for engagement, for connection. It is my currency for connection.  I empower someone else to be in my life is perhaps another way of putting it. I have faith in them as another human being that they will act with compassion. I have faith in them.

Many times – both professionally and personally - my trust has been abused, broken or otherwise misplaced, my “currency” stolen, but I cannot help myself and remained committedly optimistic. I believe that to give someone trust based on faith, and without particular knowledge or “testing” is generous and kind– albeit very risky, as it makes one vulnerable. But then that is the nature of trust!

Of course I realize it can be overwhelming for some, but I believe that trust is such a binding connection, such a force for good and so precious, that I cannot hide behind the fear of risk when the return is so energizing and positive. And I hope to God my optimism in this regard is never tainted and turned to cynicism.

Of course trust is not a switch. It’s a slider (think of a mixing desk in a recording studio and all those lovely sliders which slowly increase the volume, the reverb, the bass, the treble etc).

A switch is binary, a slider is dynamic. Trust is a dynamic emotion – not a binary one.

However, while trust can grow gradually and relatively as well as quickly, when it is broken it can sometimes be pretty absolute.

My experience though is that the greater the genuine trust, the greater the capacity for forgiveness.

Trust enables us to overcome our fears. To have courage. To find our faith again

“You block your dream when you allow your fear to grow bigger than your faith.” Mary Manin Morrissey (Empowerment Specialist and “New Thought” Minister)

So to recap:

Through accepting our “self” with the fears and weaknesses we have, we can learn to love our whole self (not just our good self) – because we forgive and resolve. We resolve to take care of our “self” and love our “self” because we conclude that we are worthy of care and love. We provide that love and care to our “self” and we begin to trust our “self” because it is familiar, it no longer frightens us, and we have learned to have faith in it.

So when we need to find the courage to live through the really difficult parts of life, we need to look within ourselves.

If we have learned to accept our fears and weakness, if we have learned to forgive ourselves for those things we have done which we would rather not have done, if we have learned to trust ourselves, then we will find the strength within to be courageous. To find our faith again.

And if we are courageous we will find not only how to live, but also how to love.

Each of us is worth life and worth love. Each of us deserves life and deserves love.

When we can feel and understand why we deserve life and love, we will find the courage to live life, to love and ultimately - to be loved.

So the courage to live is also the courage to love. For to live is to love and to love is to live.

In the words of the renowned psychologist and psychoanalyst Erich Fromm:

“Love means to commit oneself without guarantee, to give oneself completely in the hope that our love will produce love in the loved person. Love is an act of faith, and whoever is of little faith is also of little love.”

This piece is “αφιερωμένο” to my "Λέαινα"  - I hope this helps you to find the "Play" button. 

Unplugged . . . Part 1

I slept badly last night because the switch for the reading light in my hotel room was broken and I could not turn off the light. What had made it possible to read - now made it impossible to sleep.

I tossed and turned through the night, finally calling time on the effort to sleep in the early morning and sat up to read. Now I wanted the light again . . . how ironic.

As I turned to re-arrange my pillows I noticed a wire behind the bed-board and traced it to a plug. I unplugged it and magically the reading light finally went out. What a combination of joy (at discovering how to solve my problem) and frustration (that I had not discovered this simple process some 8 hours earlier).

I left the light unplugged and tried to nap, but to no avail and ended up sitting up again, plugging in the light and reading the morning paper. Plugged and unplugged. In the right sequence and at the right time, it was perfect, and in the wrong sequence a catastrophe.

But my learning of the morning was not so much about sequencing and choices, but the difference I felt when I no longer felt forced to have the light, but could chose to have it on or not. That freedom took me from resenting the light to loving it – knowing it was there for me when I needed it, but not having to have it flashing in my face when I needed to sleep.

Tonight I will look forward to my light to read by before sleep, and to “unplugging” it before I sleep, and then to reconnecting in the morning to read once more.

Feeling relaxed about the freedom I now have, I realize that sometimes when there isn’t a switch, instead we have to plug in and unplug to find the balance of what we want and need. 

And that takes time to learn sometimes. . .