As I Please

Oh look... The Year Vanished!

2011-03-01T09:55:00.007Z

Looks like someone stole a year when I wasn't looking. Scary.

I intend to start blogging again. Going to try to make it a daily habit. Watch this space.

Here Come The Resolutions...

2009-12-28T15:56:00.004Z

04:04 PM

Well, only one, actually.

Resolution.

Singular.

Along with Lucifer knows how many other Resolution Makers, I intend to write a novel in 2010.

I know the chances of getting it published are awful.

I know that, even if I get the thing published, it will probably sell less than 1,000 copies.

I know that the world needs another novel like Christ on the Cross needs a few more nails to keep him comfy.

But sod it. If not now, when?

Don't Know What You've Got Til It's Gone...

2009-10-17T04:25:00.000+01:00

Very strange day yesterday.

I was working on a song when I suddenly realized I could no longer read. Then I realized I could no longer write. Then I realized I could no longer speak properly!

Long story short - apparently I've had something called a TIA (Transient Ischaemic Attack) which is a small blood clot in the brain. A mini stroke, basically.

More or less back to normal now - although I'm utterly knackered - but for a few hours it was a tad scary.

Made me think of Flowers For Algernon. The guy gradually losing all of the knowledge he'd gained. Except this loss wasn't gradual - it was very sudden.

Also gave me an insight into how frustrating dyslexia must be. Looking at text and seeing nothing but meaningless marks sucks big time.

I think I'd rather lose a leg than lose the ability to read.

Digital Wonders

2009-10-02T14:40:00.003+01:00

02:41 PM

My sister is in Texas, visiting her daughter. I'm in the UK.

Just had a Facebook message from her asking me to call her husband (also in the UK). She wanted me to tell him to fire up her computer so she can Facebook chat to him, too.

I guess anyone under 30 finds this kind of thing pretty ho-hum, but for a 55 year old like me it never stops being amazing.

I still find the telephone astounding!

Busy, Busy, Busy...

2009-09-26T10:59:00.003+01:00

10:59 AM

Been a busy week or so. My brother came to stay and we've been doing DIY stuff like crazy. Wired in a new shower, a new water-heater, built cupboards, bought (but not yet fitted) guttering, tiled the living room fireplace in preparation for a wood-burning stove, painted, drunk wine and beer, played guitar...

I'm knackered!

Dave's gone home now, so I'm gradually settling back into my normal routine - one aspect of which is writing this blog.

We stuck a few vids on YouTube while he was here. Anyone interested can see them here.

I'm Not A Number - I'm A Free Man With Internet Access!

2009-09-11T06:20:00.007+01:00

06:21 AM

When I was a kid back in the late 1960s I fell in love with a UK TV series called The Prisoner. It was filmed in a unique Welsh village called Portmeirion, which was designed and constructed by a guy called Williams-Ellis between 1925 and 1975.

It's a wonderful place, incorporating fragments of demolished buildings, including works by a number of other architects. Portmeirion has been noted as an influence on the development of Postmodern architecture in the late twentieth century.

I spent much of yesterday wandering through the place with my sister and brother-in-law, and all kinds of vague memories from the TV series kept trying to surface. Through the wonders of You Tube I was able to refresh my memory when we got back to the converted chapel in which we're staying (many thanks to Alex Keegan for that).

YouTube Video of The Prisoner

Pics Taken Yesterday

I love the fact that the technology now exists to make these exotic trips down memory lane so much easier.

Fill Me Up With The Energy of Chi & Prana...

2009-09-06T11:53:00.006+01:00

11:54 AM

My thoughts about Pleasant Shivering led to a long chat elsewhere on the net about various aspects of New Age and Eastern philosophies.

Someone said they get these shivers, too - but they get them when doing Kundalini Yoga.

This morphed into a long discussion about 'energy' - and I said I'm sceptical about the various misuses of the term 'energy' I find scattered throughout the literature relating to meditation.

Someone said it was just a word, and words evolve. They used the example of 'blue' and noted its various meanings.

Now, I have no problem with using a word like 'blue' to describe colour, mood, or a style of music. Nobody can manipulate others by expanding the meaning of 'blue'.

But the concept denoted by the word 'energy' - when used correctly - is in a different class.

People are frequently manipulated by the sellers of New Age (and Old Age) 'energy fields' because they have no real understanding of what energy is.

An understanding of 'energy' - as used in physics - opens doors that lead to a deep understanding of how the physical universe functions. I think anything that muddies that potential understanding by reducing the explanatory power of the word is a Bad Thing.

01:46 PM

Recorded and YouTubed a new song: Thanksgiving Eve

Pleasant Shivers Down the Spine

2009-09-04T11:18:00.004+01:00

11:18 AM

I think most people will know what I mean when I talk about the sensation of a pleasant shiver running down the spine. Nothing to do with being cold - everything to do with a welcome release of tension.

In my own case, these were always very rare - as in once a year if I was lucky. But since I started meditating (and especially since I started calming the Thought Monkeys) I'm getting these shivers several time a day.

I wondered about the physical cause of such shivers, and I assumed there'd be lots of info on the Net, but all I can find is an article on something called Post-Micturation Convulsion Syndrome!

Post-micturition convulsion syndrome, also colloquially known as piss shivers or pee shivers, is a phenomenon in which one feels a shiver running down the spine following urination. The shiver can produce a brief twitch, which is a form of myoclonus. It should not be confused with post-micturition syncope, a feeling of faintness following passing urine.

To date, despite years of discussion and theorizing, there is no agreed-on explanation of the phenomenon and no medical research into it. However, it has been mentioned occasionally in columns, and in one Internet poll, where about 83% of males and 58% of females reported experiencing it. By 6 Jul 2007, more than 24,000 males and more than 1,200 females had responded to the poll on the syndrome.

Not what I'm talking about at all. I don't think I've ever experienced that one - although I live in hope.

Anyone got info on the physiological casuses of Pleasant Shivering?

Spam in the Wind

2009-09-03T09:55:00.007+01:00

09:55 AM

According to my morning crop of email spam, the secret of happiness and success with women is simple: I just need to buy whatever it is they're trying to sell and it will give me a far more impressive penis. An additional three inches, no less.

Wow. I'd be a four-inch super-stud, then.

Windy and wet today, so I shall huddle away in my cabin and try to get some writing done. Suppose I ought to put a little effort into my Tame Your Computer business, too. No new clients for ages. A Ravenscroft Ad Campaign (i.e. cards in Post Office Windows) would seem to be in order.

11:31 AM

Can't put it off any longer. Gonna have to walk the dog, get shopping etc. I love rural isolation, but there are times (especially wet, windy times) when I wish the nearest shop was a little closer than 2.5 miles...

06:24 PM

Took Kate the Dog to the vet this afternoon. She's going into kennels next month, so she needed a booster for kennel cough. New vet, and Kate didn't take to her. I'm ashamed to say she had to be muzzled!

I have a Football Hooligan for a dog.

Daddy Jack

2009-09-02T12:26:00.018+01:00

12:26 PM

Enough dog talk. A little Dad talk instead, on this fine, grey, September afternoon.

Two reasons: one, I bumped into an old chap with his dog this morning. He reminded me of my father - the man, not the dog. Similar eyes. And two, I was chatting to my sister (that's her on Dad's lap) through the wonders of FaceBook yesterday. He came up in the conversation and we both said how much we missed him.

He died in 1999.

April, I think.

Just looked at my old diary for 1999. There are only three entries!

11/04/99 - Dad died.

03/05/99 11:06 - Just heard the first cuckoo.

06/05/99 - Paid £8,000 off the mortgage.

Not big on diaries, me.

We called him Daddy Jack. His name was John - John Edward Ravenscroft - but we called him Daddy Jack. As human beings go, he was one of the better ones. Not perfect, but a decent man with a good heart and a working brain.

That pic must have been taken in 1954 or 1955. I know, because my mother is sitting next to him and I'm on her lap.

How old am I here? Nine months? If so, that would make this January 1955.

God, old photographs.

Ain't life strange?

Dad used to say: 'The lesson to learn in life is this: Be Content...'

He was right - but I don't think he ever quite managed it himself.

Me? I'm working on it.

01:53 PM

Just seen this (thanks, Hazera). Art from the cardboard inner tubes of toilet rolls! Love it!

Running For The Joy Of It

2009-09-01T12:58:00.007+01:00

12:58 PM

More dog thoughts. Live dog, this time. Kate the Lurcher.

She doesn't always shift into top gear, but during our walk this morning she decided to have a two minute crazy run - up and down the path we were on at full speed. I've learned not to move to the side when she does this. Stay still and she'll miss you, but if you try to step out of the way there's a good chance she'll take your legs from under you and you'll be flat on your back.

Like all lurchers, she usually looks miserable, but when she's crazy-running there's an expression of complete joy on her face. Lovely to see. Running for no reason. Running for the joy of it.

Dogs could teach us a thing or two, I reckon. How many people do anything at all for the sheer joy of doing it? Unless we're very young kids, we never crazy-run. We just plod on, getting done what we have to get done (or failing to get it done).

Sad.

03:37 PM

Recorded a new song.

Dead Dog Dreams

2009-08-31T08:13:00.008+01:00

08:18 AM

Dreamed about Ellie - our lovely, much missed, Saluki. We had to have her killed (I hate the term 'put to sleep') three years ago, and in my dream I was driving her to the vet for the Injection of Death. Woke up with a wet pillow and too many doggy memories!

She's buried in the garden, so I shall make a point of saying hello to her this morning.

08:27 AM

Just found this in an old computer file. Nearly four years ago, then.

Monday, November 28, 2005

A Trivial Death

Yesterday my dog died.

To be more accurate, yesterday I put my dog on her lead, walked her (slowly) to my car, lifted her in, drove to the vet's surgery, and paid £35 to have her killed.

I did it for the best of reasons. I did it because she was ill, there was no hope of cure, and she was suffering.

But I still feel like shit. I still feel I've done something I had no real right to do.

12:30 PM

Don't know if it was Dead Dog Thoughts, but Rose is talking about booking a cheapo October holiday on a Greek Island. Santorini. Looks like a good plan to me!

01:19 PM

Holiday booked! Ha!

Sneezing and Dying

2009-08-30T08:12:00.006+01:00

08:13 AM

Woke up with an out-of-control nose. Ten minutes of non-stop, violent sneezing. Face screwed up, eyes watering, body frozen as the sneeze builds... all that sneezy stuff.

There was a young guy on local TV a while ago who had been hiccupping for the past two or three years. Unable to stop. The TV people treated it as a bit of a joke at first, but it's ruined his life. Non-stop, violent sneezing would be even worse. It leaves you utterly knackered after only ten minutes!

I find things like that interesting. The little person inside your head who thinks s/he's in charge gets a disconcerting kick up the backside when the body suddenly decides it's going to do something unbidden. The illusion of control gets its foundations shaken, and we don't like that one little bit. Oh no we don't.

The ultimate body-decision is death, I suppose. Regardless of what the mind, the ego, the soul (call it what you like) wants, the body eventually decides enough is enough and stops working.

I remember lying in bed on holiday somewhere (Egypt, I think) and hearing an awful scream coming from the room above. A woman in dreadful distress, screaming things like: No! No! This can't be happening! over and over again.

We later learned her husband had a heart attack and died in bed, right next to her.

This can't be happening!

But it was, and it did - no matter how much she denied it.

Slightly worse than my sneezing fit, I guess.

09:19 AM

Just discovered a guitarist whose fingers I may have to break. Nobody should be that good!

10:18 AM

(Not Egypt, Rose tells me. Skopelos. Must be wonderful to have a memory.)

03:22 PM

Just learnt and recorded a new song. The Rose. Nice and sloppy.

Fame

2009-08-28T03:52:00.003+01:00

03:52 AM

Visiting an old friend today: someone I've known for 36 years. (Just worked that out by counting on my fingers! Well, it is 03:52 am.)

Thirty-six years. Good grief!

Anyway, my friend's older brother is a Very Famous Person. Politician. Member of the UK cabinet, and a face most people in the UK would recognise immediately. My friend looks a lot like him.

We rarely talk about his brother - I remember him saying once that being the younger brother of a Very Famous Person can be a bit of a drag - but today I might break that unspoken rule and ask him a few questions, because I've been thinking about fame.

I wonder how it feels to be recognised wherever you go. To see yourself on TV several times a week, to read about yourself in newspapers, to meet members of your own family who know the real you, but are also exposed to the public you.

And how do you cope with the internal conflicts that must exist? The tension between what the world says about you, and your own self-knowledge?

Most people (especially young people) would love to be famous, it seems.

I have a sneaky feeling I'd hate it with a mighty hatred.

How to Stop Thinking...

2009-08-27T10:18:00.004+01:00

10:18 AM

Was chatting to a friend (Aileen) this morning and the book The Power of Now came up. Living in the present and calming the Thought Monkeys is one of Eckhart Tolle's main themes, and after I finished chatting I re-read some of it.

He suggests a useful experiment.

Close your eyes and say to yourself: 'I wonder what my next thought is going to be?' Then become very alert and wait for the next thought. Be like a cat watching a mouse hole. What thought is going to come out of the mouse hole?

It can take quite a long time for the next thought to stick its thinky nose out of the hole. While you're waiting, you have that rare thing - a quiet mind!

03:11 PM

Been shopping. I usually hate shopping, but I'm finding even that can be pleasant if you shift perspective.

Instead of thinking: I don't want to be here... I don't want to be doing this... I can't wait for this tedious time to pass so I can get back to a state of Not Shopping...

I accepted the fact that I was in a shop. I was shopping, and that was fine. There were interesting things to look at; interesting people to watch doing the strange things people do; a chance to play cars with the shopping trolley...

It was OK.

Shenpa

2009-08-26T06:48:00.008+01:00

06:49 AM

My wife Rose wanted me to do something yesterday - strim the grass and nettles at the base of the garden hedge. We have a very long garden, so it's a time-consuming job.

I didn't particularly want to do it, so I put it off for a while. I was happy doing what I was doing.

When she asked me for the second time, I felt a tightening inside. Irritation. The urge to say something snappy. I didn't, and I strimmed like a good boy should, but the situation and my reaction to it reminded me of something Pema Chodron writes about: Shenpa.

As usual with these Zen concepts, I didn't fully understand what she meant by it until sometime later - but I think I've got it now. Chodron writes:

If I were translating shenpa it would be very hard to find a word, but I'm going to give you a few. One word might be hooked. How we get hooked... shenpa is the itch and it's the urge to scratch. So, urge is another word. The urge to smoke that cigarette, the urge to overeat, the urge to have one more drink, or whatever it is where your addiction is.

She also gives an example of Shenpa in action:

Somebody says a mean word to you and then something in you tightens— that's the shenpa. Then it starts to spiral into low self-esteem, or blaming them, or anger at them, denigrating yourself. And maybe if you have strong addictions, you just go right for your addiction to cover over the bad feeling that arose when that person said that mean word to you. This is a mean word that gets you, hooks you. Another mean word may not affect you but we're talking about where it touches that sore place— that's a shenpa. Someone criticizes you—they criticize your work, they criticize your appearance, they criticize your child— and, shenpa: almost co-arising.

I often see this happening in other people, but it can be harder to see it in yourself. When you do see/feel it - when you get that tightening, that urge to strike back (and the strike can be something as simple as a sigh or a weary look in the eye) - you have a momentary chance to stand back from the Shenpa. A chance to stop the process before it starts rolling.

If it does start rolling, odds are you're in for an argument, or for several hours of simmering, unspoken, mutual resentment.

Personally, I'd rather strim the hedge.

Thought Monkeys & Obedient Dogs

2009-08-25T13:06:00.006+01:00

01:08 PM

Walked my dog this morning and noticed something interesting.

I've been working on Not Thinking - on stopping the constant flow of thoughts that almost all of us spend our waking time paying attention to - and one of the best times to do that is during my walk with Kate. She's a wilful little bugger and likes to do what she wants, regardless of my instructions. For example, when we get back to the car she often refuses to jump in. If I wait long enough she will, but sometimes I'm in a rush so I pick her up, dump her in the back and close the door on her.

Today, however, she got in with no fuss at all. In fact, her behaviour was excellent throughout the walk - and these past few days it's generally been much better than usual.

I'm wondering if that's because my state of mind is different and she's picking up on something in me. A calmer, more measured Ravenscroft.

Interesting.

Regarding Not Thinking, I've been reading some of Eckhart Tolle's stuff on the process (or perhaps on the lack of process).

He's a bit New Age for my tastes, but a lot of what he says fits in with my own thinking. (Ha! See how hard it is to avoid doing it?)

Tolle says:

'Not to be able to stop thinking is a dreadful affliction, but we don’t realize this because almost everybody is suffering from it, so it is considered normal. This incessant mental noise prevents you from finding that realm of inner stillness...'

Exactly.

And if Kate's behaviour is anything to go by, when my thought monkeys are quiet, I have more natural authority... at least as far as dogs are concerned.

Another Early Start

2009-08-24T04:15:00.005+01:00

04:15 AM

Up early (very!) to get some work done because Rose and I have arranged to drive to Billingborough to meet some friends this afternoon.

08:35 AM

Got the work done and delivered (isn't email a wonderful thing?) and am feeling disgustingly virtuous - if slightly knackered. Now I can concentrate on the important stuff: getting clean, getting dressed, getting some more coffee.

Making the Most Of It

2009-08-23T08:33:00.019+01:00

08:30 AM

So, yesterday's question remains unanswered.

"Since death alone is certain and the time of death uncertain, what should I do?"

I suppose the obvious answer is: live as fully as possible...

I'm 55. I may have another 40 years ahead of me, or I might not see the sun come up tomorrow - so while I have this utterly weird thing called life, I guess I ought to make the most of it.
But how do I do that? How do I make the most of my life?
Chew on that for a while, Ravenscroft.

09:18 AM

A few top-of-the-head things that obviously do NOT equate to 'making the most of it...'

buying as many objects as possible, then buying some more
becoming famous
having as much sex as possible (and then, if not too sore, having some more)
having (and enjoying) power over other people
being over-concerned about weight, facial features, general physical appearance
being over-concerned about the opinions other people may have of you
being mentally crippled NOW by memories of past experiences
being mentally crippled NOW by worries relating to possible future experiences

01:42 PM

Any of the above could be blog posts in their own right (and I expect some of them will be at some point in the future) - but the final two on that list are most vivid to me at the moment.

For the past few days I've been making a conscious effort to become fully aware of the present: not the present day, hour, minute or even second... but the present instant. Now. The moment just before I hit the key that will type a full stop at the end of this sentence.

There it was. Gone now. I'm in another present instant, and as I write those words, that instant too is in the past. Gone.

Spending as much time (whatever that is!) in the present moment is the key to something that I'm only now beginning to explore. As I think I said in a previous post, this blog is one of the tools I'm using to explore that something. Whatever it is, I can sense that it's very powerful and it's going to alter the way I see things and the way I relate to other people.

Quite exciting, really.

02:01 PM - And here are the Anton's Gowt Pics Rose took yesterday.

What Should I Do?

2009-08-22T09:04:00.008+01:00

08:58 AM

Been re-reading Stephen Batchelor's book Buddhism Without Beliefs.

Keep coming back to one line that he suggests as a possible consideration during meditation:

"Since death alone is certain and the time of death uncertain, what should I do?"

That's one hell of a question.

What I should do right now is make another cup of coffee and post this entry - but I think I'll be giving this more consideration later today.

06:23 PM

It became too hot and sunny to ponder such things - so we took the dog for a walk by the river instead. Anton's Gowt. Sounds like a rather disgusting disease, but in fact it's a very pretty place. Rose took her camera, so no doubt there will be pics to follow.

Plenty of time for Death tomorrow, I expect.

I'm Right - And You're Wrong!

2009-08-21T12:14:00.010+01:00

12:14 PM

During my walk with Kate the Dog this morning, I heard a couple having a heated argument. They were in the RSPB bird hide beside the path that leads around the lagoon, but they were loud enough and angry enough for me to catch some of their words as I plodded by. The woman kept saying to the man: 'You're wrong. You're wrong - and you know you're wrong. Why can you never admit that?'

It set me thinking about the times I've known I was wrong about something, but I've refused to acknowledge the fact. Of course, these situations usually crop up within emotionally-charged relationships, and the ones I can most clearly call to mind all come from my closest relationship - the one I have with my wife.

When you're in the middle of an emotion-based argument and your brain tells you: shit, she has a pretty good point there... - what is it that clenches its little fists, puffs up its chest, and goes into attack mode? What is it that refuses to back down, refuses to say: Yes, you're right. I'm sorry... ?

Why do we find it so hard to do that?

It seems to me we all have a self-created (well, partly self-created, partly created by the World and everything we've experienced in it) little boy or little girl sitting in the centre of our brain - and also in our guts - that will do almost anything to avoid admitting fault. To avoid being wrong. To avoid having to change.

One of the reasons I'm writing this blog is because I actually want to change: I know that an awful lot of change is required. And tapping out these words helps me find pathways into the messed-up complexity of my own Little Boy.

I shall track down all the places where he's got it wrong, and I shall show him what he needs to be shown.

I have a feeling he might put up a bit of a fight - but I'm bigger than him.

So he'd better start assembling his defences.

01:56 PM

I'm delighted to say my Thought Monkey Pic seems to be doing its job. Whenever that constant stream of internal chatter starts up - whether it's a remembered conversation, a snippet of a TV jingle, or worries about the lump I've found in my left testicle (nothing huge, but I've made an appointment with the doc) - I just mentally call up my Thought Monkey Pic and say Hush, Monkey a few times. Crazy, but it works.

Early Start

2009-08-20T05:21:00.006+01:00

05:21 AM

Up early this morning because I have to get some press releases written and emailed before the fine people from Powergen cut our electricity supply. Essential work, they tell me. I think they just like playing Tarzan on the telegraph poles.

Strange that we still call them telegraph poles. I've never sent anyone a telegraph - not once in my entire life. And I don't intend to start now.

We'll have to rename them Internet Poles.

12:10 PM

We have power again, and the postman brought me a very welcome cheque. Reasons to be cheerful, one and two.

12:31 PM

Reason to be cheerful number three.

Birth Under The Microscope

2009-08-19T13:54:00.007+01:00

01:54 PM

Two years ago I got hold of a decent stereoscopic microscope. Ex lab stock that cost a couple of hundred pounds. No good for looking at blood cells or wriggling sperm, but fantastic for examining mini beasts, insect eyes, the details of tiny flowers etc.

Rose and I walked Kate the Dog together this morning, and Rose found a thin stem of plant that had some purple stuff on it. Looked like a kind of mould. Brought it home for a (much) closer look.

Glad we did, because under the microscope the fabulous reality was revealed. What looked like purple mould was in fact hundreds of tiny eggs, and the microscopic caterpillars coiled inside them were busy hatching.

Fantastic.

I've just witnessed an explosion of caterpillar birth, including the pauses as they rested for a while from the effort of chewing through the egg.

Life, eh? Good, innit?

God, I love YouTube!

Living in the Present with Dennis Potter

2009-08-19T00:08:00.008+01:00

12:01 AM

About six months ago, I began to meditate on a (fairly) regular basis. Nothing too heavy. Just a couple of 20 minute sessions per day. After a while, I noticed some changes in myself. A marked reduction in my pulse-rate, a quietness, a welcome sense of calm.

I like calm.

I briefly considered the idea of going on a Zen retreat. Lots to learn, I thought. Might be good to spend some time with people on the same path, see how they approached the learning. So in preparation I joined a Buddhist website.

I found a bunch of people busy ripping lumps out of each other because some believed in reincarnation, some did not; some ate meat, some did not; some wore their underpants backwards, some did not...

I thought I'd do my own thing for a while.

So that's what I did. I read a book or two, did a bit of thinking, meditated. In particular, I tried to stop regretting the past and worrying about the future.

I tried to live in the present moment.

It's not easy, but I seem to be getting better at it.

Here's Dennis Potter's final interview, recorded in 1994 just a few weeks before he died. Through the wonders of the Internet I found the bit that, even then, made a huge impression on me.

Dennis Potter's Final Interview

The only thing you know for sure is the present tense...

The nowness of everything is absolutely wondrous...

If you see the present tense - boy do you see it...

It's sad that even someone as exceptional as Dennis Potter had to wait until weeks before his death before he had that insight. As far as I can tell, most people never see it.

I'm an atheist. I don't believe in any kind of traditional God, or in the reality of supernatural events.

But I do believe that living in the present moment is a key. A key that unlocks doors that most people never even know are there. Doors that lead to places where there is less suffering, less discontent and bottles of Guinness hanging from the trees.

Monkey Mind

2009-08-18T13:53:00.005+01:00

01:55 PM

Mind monkey or Monkey mind, from Chinese xinyuan and Sino-Japanese shin'en 心猿 [lit. "heart-/mind-monkey"], is a Buddhist term meaning "unsettled; restless; capricious; whimsical; fanciful; inconstant; confused; indecisive; uncontrollable".

(Thanks, Wikipedia.)

Been looking for an image to illustrate the monkey mind I wrote about earlier. Or rather an image I can call up when I want to calm my own monkey mind. Think I've found it!

05:18 PM

Done lots of garden stuff this afternoon, and used the time to think about thoughts. About thought itself.

The fact that we can think is utterly amazing. Our thoughts allow us to solve problems, create art, build computers, manipulate the world around us. Thinking is generally thought to be a Good Thing.

And yes, generally speaking thinking is a Good Thing.

But there's another side to the coin of thought. A darker side.

Thinking has run out of control. Most people are unable to turn off that constant stream of thought - unable to Not Think. And there are dangers in that situation. Here there be dragons.

Lawns & Lurchers

2009-08-17T14:27:00.009+01:00

02:28 PM

Just mowed the lawn. Well, one of the bloody lawns!

I know it's good for me. I know I should just settle into it, get into the rhythm, enjoy the process of making a small corner of the universe slightly more tidy. One finger raised in the face of entropy. But something deep inside me wants to jump up and down and scream its little head off:'You're wasting your time, Ravenscroft! Grass grows! Next week, you'll have to do it all over again - so just smash the Flymo and go to the pub instead!'

06:12 PM

How to hide behind a dog. Pic of me and Kate, taken during yesterday's walk around Snipe Dales.

Zen and the Art of Drinking Coffee

2009-08-16T08:51:00.008+01:00

09:00 AM

Just spent five minutes drinking coffee. Did my very best during that five minutes to do nothing but drink coffee, and experience all the coffee-related input delivered by my senses: the complex aroma of the stuff, the warmth and the taste in my mouth, what it feels like as the coffee goes down the tubes, the heat of the cup, the sound of one lip slurping... all that Zen business.

It's not easy. In fact, it's really hard to shut down what the Buddhists call 'the monkey mind' - to stop that constant internal chatter.

Time for another cup so I can get some more practice.

11:03 AM

All that coffee got me thinking about Zen (which I guess is almost a contradiction in terms). A friend of mine sent me a link recently to a talk by Eckhart Tolle that I found interesting. If you have an hour and a half to spare (yes. it is that long) and you fancy watching and listening, the talk is here.

Try to ignore the slightly cheesy opening scene and Tolle's annoying (at first) ultra-slow delivery. If you stick with it, you might find it both informative and relaxing - which is a pretty rare combination.

Thanks for the link, Robyn.

07:20 PM

Pleasant day today. Rose and I went to Snipe Dales for a walk in the woods. Took Kate the Dog. At one point, the Red Arrows flew overhead, no doubt on their way to a display somewhere. Sun shone. Birds sang. The few people we met looked happy in the sunshine. Rose took pics.

Life can be pretty good sometimes.

Sheds, Sheds, Glorious Sheds...

2009-08-15T07:02:00.008+01:00

Early morning rambling...

A writer friend of mine - the lovely Merc - just directed me towards Shedworking.

It's a website entirely devoted to strange people like me who work in garden sheds. I have a feeling I'm going to feel very much at home there. So thanks, Merc.

8.15 a.m.

Exercise

As I said in my first post on this blog, I'm currently doing a bit of life re-structure work. (If you'd read that sentence to me a few years ago, I'd have laughed at you. 'Life re-structure work? What the hell is that supposed to mean?)

In my case it means lots of things, and I'll be rattling on about some of them in future posts. But right now I want to say a few words about just one aspect. Exercise.

I've never, ever enjoyed exercise. I did as little as possible as a kid, and it was only poverty that kept me skinny. You can't get fat when all you have to eat is cardboard and a bit of dust. But the years have rolled on, and much to my surprise I've started putting on weight. When I bend to tie my shoelaces, I have to fight against a cushion of belly-fat that never used to be there. I don't like that. Nor do I like the fact that walking the dog is more of an effort these days. I'm fortunate to be living in Lincolnshire, 'cos it's flat as the proverbial pancake. Not a hill in sight. If we still lived in hilly Derbyshire, my dog-walking would have killed me years ago.

So, on the 8th of August - just one week ago - I told myself I was going to start early-morning exercises. Nothing too major. Get out of bed and do as many sit-ups as possible. Then do as many push-ups as possible. Then chin the bar as many times as possible.

And keep records.

The results, though pretty pathetic compared to someone who really is fit, are amazing.

Date	SU	PU	BAR

08-Aug-2009	13	20	1
09-Aug-2009	16	26	1
10-Aug-2009	18	31	1
11-Aug-2009	18	35	1.5
12-Aug-2009	18	36	2
13-Aug-2009	20	37	2
14-Aug-2009	21	39	2
15-Aug-2009	22	42	2

In just a few days I've nearly doubled the number of sit-ups I can do. I've more than doubled the number of push-ups! The bar-work is still crappy, but at least I'm heading in the right direction.

What's more, my energy levels are improving. All good stuff.

So, tell me to carry on. Prod me now and then. Keep me going.

And if you don't exercise yourself, give it a try. It's a drag, but the effort really does pay off.

Shakespeare in the Post Office

2009-08-14T11:03:00.005+01:00

It's 11.00 am. I've walked the dog, bought The Daily Mirror for the elderly couple who live next door (see what a kind person I am?) and am now back in my cabin, about to carry on with today's work.

But first, a quick Blog entry.

Shirley - the woman who runs the local Post Office - makes me grin. I've known her for years, got her into computer stuff, and I do my bit to help keep her struggling business afloat. Papers, milk, the odd bottle of wine... she could retire on what I spend in her shop.

Anyway, when I turned up this morning there were two elderly women cackling away to each other and blocking the narrow passage that leads to the counter. I eased past them and paid for my paper. Shirley eyed the women, shook her head, and said: 'It's like bloody Macbeth in here sometimes... hubble, bubble, toil and trouble.'

I reminded her that there were three witches, not two - so she must be the third.

She said I was a bastard.

Came home to an interesting email concerning potential writing work. A guy in Scotland who runs ghost walks and torture tours (!) wants someone to write approx thirty scripts for his tour guides to deliver. Could be fun. I shall spend part of today looking at the info he sent and working out how long it will take to write each script. Then if we can agree a rate for the job...

We shall see.

1.24 pm - Rose just discovered a Privet Hawk Moth Caterpillar in the garden. Huge thing. No doubt there will be photographs to follow!

And Here They Are!

What's it All About?

2009-08-13T10:37:00.004+01:00

So, I've decided to start blogging.

Between December 1943 and April 1947, George Orwell wrote a series of columns for Tribune entitled 'As I Please' in which he rattled on about whatever happened to be on his mind that day. I'm no George Orwell, but that pretty much sums up what I intend to do in this blog - so I've stolen old George's title. I'm sure he wouldn't object.

Orwell wrote his columns for money. Why am I writing mine?

Couple of reasons, I guess. The main one stems from the fact that I've recently begun to structure my life in a more sensible fashion. More about that in future posts, I expect. Anyway, as part of that re-structuring, I want to force myself to produce some personal writing on a daily basis. I suppose I could just write a private journal, but I've done that in the past and I never keep it up. Seems I need an audience.

Which brings me to the second reason: the possibility of feedback.

Assuming I get some, I think I'd quite enjoy discussing the contents of my noggin with one or two fellow human beings. Might even make a few new friends.

So - noggin content number one: Cole Porter.

As you can see from my profile pic, I'm a guitarist. Yesterday I recorded a version of Porter's 'Just One of Those Things'. It's on YouTube here.

I'd like to record a few more of the master's compositions. Any suggestions for songs I might try?

Noggin content number two: A Room of One's Own.

In April 2008 my brother came for an extended visit and between us we built a large log cabin in the garden. It's where I spend most of my time now - and I wish I'd built one back in 1984 when Rose and I first moved to Lincolnshire. I hadn't realized how much having my own separate space, a place where I can shut out the rest of the world and concentrate on what I want to do, would improve my life.

If you're self-employed, or if you just need some time for yourself, do you have a place to work from? A place to go?

Let me know.

John