A happy 2015?

When you think of happiness, what comes to mind? A holiday? A larger house? A better car?

I think we spend most of our time, energy and money, not on trying to be happy, but on trying to be comfortable. We save for a new PC, or a bigger TV; we want efficient heating, and a nice car to take us places, dry with the minimum effort.

In a new year, we tend to think of things we hope will make us happy in the coming months. The problem is many of the things we think of won’t necessarily make us happy, they’ll just make us more comfortable. And there will always be someone more comfortable than us, no matter how big our TV is, so we’ll keep on chasing ‘happiness’, never quite reaching it.

Instead, we should probably spend more time making memories, building friendships, and enjoying experiences. Those are the things that make me happy, for sure. Just today I was reminiscing about the times I had in a previous existence (at least that’s how it feels), when I had friends and experiences that will stay with me forever. I miss them, and know that, when I reach old age, I will look back and be glad I had them.

Lying on my death bed, I doubt I’ll be wishing I’d had a better sofa. But I’m sure I’ll wish I had more time with those I love, and lived more stories with them.

My advice at the start of 2015 is to stop seeking comfort and go after real happiness instead. Do things that will last, make memories, write stories in time, with every day a new chapter.

This time next year, it will be far better to look back on than any Blu-ray movie.

Achieving life's goals.

Two years ago, I wrote this about some of the things I wanted to do in my life.

Re-reading it now, I’m pleased to see I’ve succeeded in a couple: I visited Findochty, and I’ve finished my first novel. Unfortunately I haven’t yet learned to play Johnny B. Goode Marty McFly style and I may have to accept I will never achieve this one.

Finishing my novel gave me a weird feeling: I’ve done something I’ve wanted to do for years. Now, it’s complete, on the page, out of my head and in the world. It’s finished. It feels good. 

But it brought to mind a question: what do you do when you’ve achieved your life’s ambition?

The answer is, of course, make a new one. Find something else to work towards. For example, I'm glad, even two years ago, I included ‘write another novel’ on my list of things to do. The best ambitions don’t end, they grow.

I’m proud of finishing my novel; I’ll be even more proud if I get it published. And prouder still if I end up with a whole shelf of my own in the local Waterstones.

Whatever you’re working on, keep at it. Achieving a goal is worth the time and hard work it takes. And, when you’ve done it, you’ll find a whole kaleidoscope of new ambitions and opportunities appear over the horizon.

Bring it on.

Finding good role models: thoughts from a train following a best friend's wedding.

I had the privilege of witnessing one of my longest-serving, and best, friends get married yesterday. I sat in the reception and listened to various people comment on the excellent qualities of my friend, knowing that it was an accurate representation of this man I've known for my whole life.

As I sat there I couldn't help wondering what people might say about me should I get married again. And I felt a sense of shame: I doubt my references would be as glowing. At least, not if they were to be accurate.

'When I look at myself I don't see the man I wanted to be; somewhere down the line I slipped off track. One step up and two steps back.' - Bruce Springsteen, 'One Step Up'

But the man I saw yesterday, my friend, is still very much in my life, and we both expressed a strong desire to try and recapture some of the closeness that, as so often seems to happen as life goes on, has somehow been lost, just through the passage of time and that all-powerful force: 'stuff'.

In my friend I see a true 'man', and an excellent role model. Someone who I want to emulate, not necessarily in outward accomplishments or actions, but in strength of character, in loyalty of friendship, and in a personification of love. And I don't apologise for sounding overly sentimental.

Congratulations, mate. May your marriage be life-long and full of joy. I'm glad I have the opportunity to continue to be friends with, and learn from, you.

The memories we make are our greatest treasure.

I’ve been listening to one album pretty much exclusively the last few days.  (Those of you who know me will know there’s a lot of time for this: tram journeys, hours spent in my house, even odd hours marshalling charity events.) 

When I was thinking about this blogpost, one song in particular stood out:

‘I close my eyes and go back in time, I can see you smiling, you’re so alive.’ – Switchfoot.

I’ve written before about losing things, and missing them (The Value of a Moment and, Taking Risks.) – relationships, connections to places, the ‘good old days’.  This happens to me a lot, and it’s something I worry about: what if I lose the things I’m attached to now?  How will I cope? 

This kind of thinking could even stop me/us doing something, stepping out, starting ... anything.  What if it goes wrong?  What if s/he breaks up with me?  What if I end up hurt or disappointed?  We can start to think it’s not worth the risk.

But what kind of life would that be?  One where we don’t do anything, don’t try anything, don’t make any connections or ties because we might lose them?  A life spent entirely without ever having any of the things we ‘might lose’: how would that make us happy?

Recently, I’ve been making a lot of memories I know will stay with me forever.  Should things change and I lose things I’m really attached to then, sure, I’ll be devastated.  But I’ll always have the memories, the knowledge I was part of something amazing. 

I can keep those memories on a shelf in my mind, take them down, examine them, remember them, and smile, thinking: Wow! ... I was there!   I’ll certainly be extremely sad not to still ‘be there’ but a) it’s not certain I won’t be, and b) I’m glad I’m here now. 

Truthfully, I do get terrified about losing things/people I love because I’m not sure how I would cope.  But, just as there are no guarantees something will last, there are no guarantees it won’t.  ‘Every minute of the future isn’t written...’ as Jason Mraz puts it (Everything is Sound, 2012).  Don’t we want to find out?

The connections and memories we make are our greatest treasure.  Find some, make some, enjoy them.  May they last forever...

Taking risks.

Vrrroooooooommmm!!!

I read this recently about a father and his 10 year old son on a trip to ride motorbikes across the desert:

When we got to the desert, we headed for the sand dunes.  These dunes were different from the ten-footers I rolled down at the beach as a kid.  These were seven hundred feet tall.  Once you start up these monsters in a motorcycle, you need to get to the top without stopping.  If you hesitate or try to pause halfway, the result is that you, with the motorcycle on top of you, cartwheel all the way down to the bottom.  It’s a pass/fail course because there’s no in between.

                After topping several huge sand dunes with Adam and then losing track of him for a moment, I heard his motor racing just over the next dune.  I made my way over to where the noise was coming from and it was apparent in an instant that Adam was planning to jump from the top of one sand dune to the top of another.  I was yelling ”No!” across a canyon of sand, and it felt like a movie-style slow motion sequence kicked in as Adam raced through the gears and hit the peak of the dune doing more than 60 miles per hour.  Almost immediately, Adam and his machine separated.  It was quite a sight, really.  He had the look of both Superman and a gut-shot pheasant at the same time.  Adam landed 120 feet later surrounded by the scrap metal remains of what he was riding.  His first words when I rushed over to him were “That was awesome.”  And you know what?  It was.  Even though things didn’t go as planned and Adam crashed and burned, there was a huge sense of accomplishment for him in that. (Bob Goff, ‘Love Does’, published by Thomas Nelson, 2012.)

People tell me I’m a bit of a risk-taker.  I don’t really do physical risks, like sky-diving or bungee-jumping (although I would quite like to!), but I suppose I have been known to take emotional risks pursuing love or a connection or ... something.  (Moi?  Really???  Never...!)

With my heart on my sleeve, I hit the top of a dune like a kid at 60 miles per hour launching into the unknown.

Inevitably, I occasionally end up face down in the sand with a wreckage around me.  And it hurts.

But, in the end, sometimes through the tears, I’ll look you in the eye and say with absolute conviction: ‘That was awesome.’  And you know what?  It was.  Hell, I got to fly!

Don’t be afraid of falling, you’ll miss out on the spectacular.

And when you do fall, get up, collect the bike, go back to the foot of that dune, and start revving the engine...

Let’s go again.

All you need is love.

I’m reading a book about love at the moment.  It’s not a dating book, or a romance novel, but it is about loving people.

I don’t believe in half-hearted love; I don’t think there can be such a thing.  Love is many things, but it is not apathetic.  I had a beautiful conversation the other day (you know – the kind when you talk about everything, get a little deep, pull back the curtains of small talk and connect with another person for real) and it came up that the opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.  (Wikiquote tells me Elie Wiesel said it first, whoever that is...)

I also don’t believe we can love everyone; the heart wants what it wants*.  I sometimes wonder if there is a wilder beast in the world than the heart.  Soldier is a song by Ingrid Michaelson and she says: ‘The battle with the heart isn’t easily won ... but it can be won.’

Love is not rational.  That is something I truly believe.  Love should be ridiculous, pointless, whimsical, without thought of consequence, or of getting anything in return.  We should love without reason, even without hope sometimes, wildly, recklessly, passionately. 

I reckon loving in this way is a magnificent, exciting adventure.  It’s a rollercoaster, with ups, downs, crazy loops and almost unbearable forces at times.  And yeah, it's scary sometimes, but I think when you look back, even if you weren’t loved in return, you’ll know you truly lived.

Interesting that those two words are only one letter different, don’t you think?

*I do think we can be loving towards everyone but, in this context, that’s not the same as loving them...

You're as old as the person you feel...? (Cue puerile laughter)

Someone posted this earlier today.  Apt?

I have been troubled by something recently.  I follow my friends on Facebook and many of my age are ‘settling down’: they’re buying houses, moving in with girlfriends/boyfriends ... some are having kids.

Let me say at the outset, I don’t think there is anything wrong with settling down; I’d probably do it too if it was an option.  But at the moment I rent a house, spend my time dreaming of ‘what I want to be’, and go out often, whether it’s a ‘school night’ or otherwise.  Basically, I live like a student.  Which is no bad thing – I’m not unhappy with my life – I just wonder how long I can keep doing it.  I’m not blessed with Dorian Gray-esque eternal youth, after all. 

Maybe it’s to do with relative life-age.  I said to a friend the other day that I didn’t really start living until my late twenties and, if we assume most people start doing what I do in their late teens, then I guess that makes me the equivalent of about ... 23? (I think mostly I’m worried about my appearance: I’m young at heart, but not in body.  If I really was 23, everything would be fine!)

There are of course people I know, both younger and older than me, living as I am.  And it’s these people I get closer to, while my other friends have faded into a hazy blur at the edges of my life where they presumably snuggle up on the sofa of a weekend in front of TV shows/DVDs.  

In the end though, I think comparing ourselves to others never really gets us anywhere.  There will always be some better off than us; there will always be some worse.  All we can do is live the life we have.  I can do nothing about growing older, but I can stay young in my mind.  I want to have a fun life, laugh often (and make others laugh too!), love passionately and deeply, smile secretly at the memories, and reach old age having lived.

And the important thing anyway is to be happy with who we are and what we’re doing, no matter how ‘old’ we are.  That’s something everyone can aspire to, whether on your couch, or in a random bar, dancing to some ridiculous pop song from yester-year at 2am.

For now at least, I’ll probably see you there...

The Boulevard of Broken Blogs.

Some of the things I write for this blog aren’t good enough and don’t get posted (just in case you thought there was no quality control).

But here are some of the best bits from the past year of those that didn’t make the cut:

On being creative:

Bambi and The Chopper is coming along nicely, as nonsensical as that particular project is!  I sometimes think that’ll be the one that ‘makes it’ – the one that I wrote on a whim.  Isn’t that how it goes?  (Jason Mraz – I’m Yours, for example!)

*

In fiction writing, I was taught to give characters seemingly conflicting traits, like being shy and an attention seeker, because that’s what people are like in real life.  And it’s obviously true; no one is one dimensional.

*

On life in the early days in Nottingham:

I don’t like Nottingham – city of sirens – and I don’t mean the hot mermaid type.  Seriously, I’ve never heard as many ambulances/police cars anywhere.  And I’m from Bradford.  And used to work in a hospital. 

*

Other bits and pieces:

Life never stays the same.  Deal with those things you can control, the rest will happen anyway.

*

No-one should have the responsibility of ‘making you happy’.

*

My first thoughts in a morning:

7am: No way am I getting up yet.

8am: Can I get away with not getting up?

8.15am: Ok. I really have to get up now.

8.20am: Crap! I’m gonna be late!

*

There are many things I have often taken for granted, like cool places I go to, happy memories, or being creative.  I never imagine living without them; I would hate to.

Now I want to spend more time/energy on those important things, and develop more, because, here’s the thing: they may not be around forever.  Arthritis, memory loss, or a good old fashioned bulldozer could wipe them out in an instant.   

And then I’d wish I’d appreciated them more.

Green Day - Boulevard of Broken Dreams

Meeting people, and the value of a moment.

One shiny moment might be
all we have.

Sometimes we meet people, spend time with them, and bounce off them.  Our orbits may never take us close again; perhaps those hours/weeks/months with someone will be all we ever have with them.

I think many of us believe in an idea of ‘forever’ within our relationships/friendships.  We, on some level, expect we’ll always be friends with the people we know, those we meet.  It’s almost as if, in order to be ‘meaningful’, something must last forever.  And sometimes it will.  But most of the time it won’t.

As I get older I seem to be becoming more of an optimist (I know...).  I used to always get upset about losing touch with people, or not making a stronger ‘connection’ with someone.  I would focus on missing them, or on the ‘what might have been’.

But it doesn’t have to be like that; a friendship or relationship doesn’t have to be forever to be meaningful.  That person was there for a time, and it was good.  Don’t undervalue that.

That’s not to say we shouldn’t grieve for things we lose, but there comes a time to let it go or else we might lose the good in it too.

I think this ties in a little with my ‘Let’s talk about sex’ post about savouring the memories and smiling about them often.  Every friendship and relationship, whether it’s for a few minutes or many years, was worth something for that moment.   And isn’t that what life is: a collection of moments? 

If we had even just one that shone with someone, it’s worth celebrating.  Keep those moments for what they were and leave what they ‘could have been’ to the fantasists. 

Enjoy the reality; there’ll be other shiny-moments ahead you don’t want to miss.

Comfort Zones.

I’m thinking of setting up a Comfort Zone in my house: cushions, bean bags, maybe a hammock and a massage chair.  Probably the best quote I heard about this was: ‘A Comfort Zone sounds like such a nice place to be, but the only time we ever hear of it is when we’re being told to get out of it.’

In the real world, I find I operate well in my Comfort Zone: give me a bar I like, with friends I know and love, maybe some live music to participate in, and I can be the King of the World.  Albeit a particularly small world.

If you’ll forgive a Formula One analogy, I’m a bit like Jenson Button: when everything’s in place, the temperature’s right, the set-up perfect on a track I enjoy, then I’m unbeatable.  Unfortunately, it’s not every day everything falls that way.

At the moment, my whole life is outside my Comfort Zone.  Whenever I leave the house it’s to new territory, with new people, in new situations; even work is far from soft and fluffy.  And enough time hasn’t passed for me to forget the life of Riley I had in Leamington Spa.  As someone said: ‘Time is not the great healer, it’s memory loss’ and I still grieve often the loss of my life there.

All this presents a glaring problem: if I’m only able to be my best-self – the outgoing, funny, generous and carefree Martin – when I’m ‘comfortable’, then making new friends and a new life is going to be mighty difficult.

Nobody wants to leave a Comfort Zone, because it’s, well, comfortable.  But even our Comfort Zones were new to us once.  I went out last night and had one of my most uncomfortable evenings in a long time.  Today, I mostly want to retreat and hide away forever in my little house where I am comfortable (though it is lamentably lacking a hammock and massage chair).

But I know the right thing to do is pick myself up, dust myself down, and try again. 

I’m just gonna have a little nap first...

Let's talk about sex...

I’m not one of those guys who walks into a bar and girls go: ‘Oh my God, he’s so hot ... I need to change my knickers.’ 

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I’m a bad looking guy, I’m just sort of ... ordinary.  And I’m not only looking for sex either, definitely don’t get me wrong about that.  Perhaps my post is mis-titled and this is really about loneliness. 

But sometimes sex can feel like the answer to loneliness.  And, even if it’s not, it can feel like a good substitute.

I suppose I’ve been lucky in love more times than some; I have happy memories of times spent in the arms of a girl, be that on a coach trip, on the sofa, or elsewhere.  But I’m getting older, and I would like to have times like that – and, yes, sex too – again at some point in my life.

Generally it’s not safe to assume that everyone in a bar/club/coffee shop/sitting on a train/walking down the street is as ... keen to meet someone.  (I deleted a whole range of adjectives before settling on ‘keen’ including: ‘lonely’, ‘desperate’, and ‘horny’!)   So you put out feelers, test the water, and it’s usually cold.  Tepid at best.  So what's a guy to do?

People tell me: ‘You’ll meet someone when you’re not looking!’  Those people annoy me, really.  More than ants in my kitchen (but less than spiders in my bedroom).  How is someone supposed to stop looking for something they earnestly want?

If those people lost their keys, how would they feel if I said they’d turn up if they'd only stop looking for them?

As a solution to all this, I’m trying to accept that maybe my time for this has been and gone.  Perhaps those ‘loves’ I’ve had are all I am to have.  So, I’m savouring the memories, smiling about them often, and concentrating on what life has left for me now, such as writing, music and getting rid of ants, apparently.  (Fortunately I don't have a spider problem in this flat, but if they should ever rear their ugly heads again, I'll be ready.)

If you are in a relationship, or even just having sex with any sort of regularity, enjoy it, and keep hold of it for as long as you can.  Because, as JD says: 'No one understands how important sex is better than someone who isn’t having it.'

(Sorry for the long clip again, it’s really only from 4 mins 40 secs I wanted!)

Memory and who we are.

Me!

Certain character traits define ‘me’.  I know them of myself and they've always been present.

I was thinking about this before, during and after my trip last week – I mentioned my earliest memory being of Findochty.  Here it is:

I was sat at a long table in a kitchen/dining room with my family.  I think my mother was to my left. The entrance to the house was at the far end of the room, and I believe the external door was blue, with a pane of glass, but I could be wrong about that.

On the table was a bowl of fruit and I vividly remember looking at it, wanting an apple, but not being sure whether it was real or plastic.  I remember being too shy and nervous to ask, or to take it and find out for myself, so I just sat there, looking at it, trying to figure it out.

The interesting thing to me is, even though I was only two-and-a-bit years old, it is so very like me, even now.  

My whole life I’ve been plagued by a lack of confidence, afraid of approaching shop assistants (as a teenager I’d get clothes ordered from catalogues so I didn’t have to go into shops!), or of going places people might notice me, or of making phone calls ... anything really, through fear of being laughed at, making a fool of myself, or just not fitting in.  (When I think about it, it’s pretty amazing I can walk into a bar and play music to a bunch of people watching me!  But that’s probably another blog post...)

I think the reason I remember this episode – and with such clarity – rather than, for example, the trip to Ibiza only three months earlier, is because of the strength and depth of my fear of embarrassment.  To my two year old self, it was obviously a very big deal.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve naturally learned to deal with these feelings, to hide them and compensate to some extent.  But they’re still there, and I find it really fascinating that they have been from as early as I can remember, as though this insecurity is at the very core of my being.  It’s a central part of who I am*. 

And that’s okay, it’s good to know.   

*It’s probably the central cause of many of the Depression-issues I’ve had but, again, that’s probably another post!

Random thoughts from my trip.

Looking out over Findochty.

Followers of this blog will know that this week I’ve been to see one of my ancestral homes: Findochty, Scotland.  The trip was about two things: visiting the place itself, and going on a long train journey – something I fancied doing. 

                                             

Below are a few of my thoughts during the last few days.  Some of them are a bit personal, some a bit morbid, and some of them a bit amusing.  Enjoy.

In Findochty:

• I wonder if the increased desire to discover my family of old is due to me getting older and beginning to accept the decreasing likelihood of ever starting a new family of my own.
• In writing, it’s easy to feel constrained by the ‘canvas’ we choose, such as the tense or ‘person’ we’re writing in.  But each one has its own advantages too.  Life can be a bit like that as well: we might not always be happy with aspects of our selves/lives, but there may be advantages we’ve missed.
• There’s a strange feeling when you finally do something you’ve been planning for years.  Now you’ve done it, what now?
• Making a trip like this isn’t just about the trip, it’s about the stories you hear from family.  Stories that probably never would have been told had you not gone.  Like the one about my Granda as a 14 year old boy, jumping off the quay at Buckie and running away on his Dad’s fishing boat...
• I didn’t remember anything about Findochty from my last visit as a ‘wee bairn’.  But I am proud to have my heritage in such a beautiful place.

On the train:

• In the time I spent travelling to Findochty on a train, I could’ve been in Beijing by plane...
• Sometimes things can feel like destiny or fate – like being sat near the same person twice on different trains.  But really, it’s just Maths.
• There’s a certain unspoken trust between people on trains.  You can leave your bag to use the facilities and be fairly sure no one will touch it.  Coffee shops are similar.  Why is this?  And why do we fear the worst of people in other places?
• I seem to listen to music or read books by people I wish I was like.  Do other people do this?
• There’s a certain way that we novel-readers on trains look down on the magazine readers...
• On trains, planes or other public transport, we’re all thrown together. If there was an accident, these are the people we would spend our last moments with.  We spend years looking for the right person to grow old with, to die with, when it could all come down to random chance in a moment like this.
• And last, but certainly not least, this: 

(Apologies for the long clip, but it’s all I could find!  

You should watch the whole movie anyway, it’s truly beautiful.)

Down memory lane...

Findochty

About a month ago I wrote about things I wanted to do ('What do you want to do with your life?' and 'Why are we waiting?').  This week sees the trip to my ancestral home I mentioned.

Tomorrow I’ll board a train (or several), spend all day travelling North, and arrive in the town of Keith, where I’m staying before spending the day in Findochty on Wednesday.  I'm very excited about it, and about seeing the town my Dad’s side of my family is from.

I have been before, apparently, when I was only two years old.  My mother confirmed this yesterday and it seems my earliest memory is a snippet of that visit.  I found this really interesting and started wondering: what are people’s first memories?  Can you remember much from your early childhood? 

During these few days away I’ll be doing some writing, taking some photos and doing some thinking about life, where we come from and how it all adds up to making us who we are.  When I get back, I’ll share some of my thoughts.

I think it’ll be fascinating to see if I remember anything else while I’m there and find out whether anything feels familiar to me, nearly thirty years on from that first visit.

Life through a rear-view mirror, and a telescope. (Or, what will you wish had happened this year?)

Recently I caught myself thinking, I wish the last 12 months hadn’t happened. With my redundancy, having to move away from friends and the life I had (and enjoyed), and generally things not working out as I’d hoped, I guess I have good reason to look back and wish things were how they were before it all.

But life’s not like that.  And, honestly, when I really think about, I think that’s a good thing. 

I wouldn’t be the person I am today if it wasn’t for all that so-called ‘character building’ stuff.  Each situation taught me something, changed me, took me down a different path – and that process goes on.  Things might be, frankly, pretty shit sometimes, but nothing lasts forever – ‘This too shall pass’. And sometimes that can be a great solace, I find.

 (I love this video - any excuse to include it!)

Having said that, I don’t want to have another year I wish I could erase.  Obviously, some of that isn’t in my control, but I started wondering if I can live life with a sort of reverse perspective: imagine myself in 12 months looking back at something, and then decide whether I want to do it or not.  Will I regret it?  Will I regret NOT doing it?  Will it even matter to me as much as it feels like it does now?  If not, why worry about it so much now?  (I think Don Miller wrote something about this a while back on his blog, but I can't find it.)

And, I also want to look ahead too and think about what things I’ll wish had happened in this next 12 months*, and what can I do now to help make them happen.  And then ‘get on it’, as a good friend of mine says.

So there you go – life through a rear-view mirror and a telescope.  Too weird?

*Perhaps the biggest problem with all this is which tense to use!

Love while you can.

Good memories: make some.

The other day I started thinking about things I love, and was dismayed that the first things to come to mind were material:

Like, my Kindle.

Or my guitar.

Or my laptop.

So I thought again, and realised that the things I really love are things I actually take for granted:

Like, cool places I go to.

Or happy memories.

Or being creative.

Because I take these things for granted, I never imagine living without them; I would hate to.

Which, of course, makes them far more valuable than the other things.

And now I want to spend more time/energy on those stuff I really love – and develop more – because, here’s the thing: they may not be around forever.  Arthritis, Alzheimer’s, or a good old fashioned bulldozer (I couldn’t think of an appropriate ‘A’ word...!) could easily wipe them out.

And, if they were to go – be they things, or indeed people* – then I’d wish I’d ‘loved’ them more...

You can’t relive times gone by.

You can’t recreate memories.

You can’t replace people.

So make the most of them: love them while you can.

*I deliberately left ‘people’ out as a category in my original thinking, because I think that’s something different, and more complex.  Although, the advice probably still applies...

Dealing with stress.

I’m not particularly stressed today, but I have been – what with not yet finding a job, uni work on my mind, creative projects being pushed out etc etc. And I know a few other people who are feeling pretty pressured at the moment. Sometimes it’s difficult to deal with.

I am grateful to have learned a little about Mindfulness, as I’ve mentioned before on this blog, and it’s been a help during some of my more fraught moments over the last few weeks.

Just to expand a little, so often we’re focussed on something else: our destination, what we’re going to do tomorrow, the jobs that we’re not getting done right now. I guess I sound a little like Yoda: ‘Never his mind on where he was, what he was doing.’

We can miss out on so much of life in this way. Earlier this year, I got stuck in traffic at rush hour near Heathrow airport and I was pretty vexed about it, until I remembered about Mindfulness. I started thinking about where I was, navigating London rush hour, something I’d heard a lot about but never done. Suddenly, it was actually quite exciting.

Eventually I made it out of London and onto the M40, where I still kept focussing on the job in hand – driving my car. What did it feel like? The steering wheel; the sound of my tyres on the tarmac; the other cars nearby me. What was the weather like? And as I looked to the sky, to the horizon, I was treated to a beautiful sunset. I felt privileged to be there.

If I hadn’t been stuck in traffic, I’d never have seen that. If I hadn’t stopped to consider the now, but remained frustrated, stressing about something I could essentially do nothing about, I’d probably never have noticed the warm orange sun melting into the distance, leaving purple clouds behind...

And the very act of stopping, remembering to just breathe, taking in my surroundings, was in itself calming. I enjoyed my journey in the end, and perhaps these techniques can help us all when we start to feel things are getting on top of us.

Though I still won’t be rushing to plough through London’s tea-time traffic again...

Learn to laugh (at yourself).

I think buying matching 'laugh' plaques
 is a good way to start any relationship!

Recently I began a relationship with a wonderful girl. (Hurrah!) But that’s not what this is about...

A good friend of mine offered me some advice prior to the beginning of said relationship. He said: ‘Take her out, go for coffee, laugh.’ For some reason, it was the final piece of advice that stuck the most.

Laughter is the best medicine. It can diffuse many tensions, let people know you’re not upset, and, more importantly, it’s fun!

But there’s something else: Rob Bell (again!) at Greenbelt said we really need to learn to laugh at ourselves, because, if we don’t, we’re just going to take everything to heart and end up hurt a lot more than we need to be (or something like that anyway).

I know I’m a bit unusual in some ways, and I take pride in that – ‘It’s all about the quirk’, I say. And I make stupid mistakes, like taking a load of large cardboard boxes to the recycling centre right before going to collect something packaged...in a large cardboard box. (Doh!) I could have gotten annoyed at the waste of time, but, actually, it’s quite funny – better I laugh at it, than someone else does when I’m feeling frustrated and annoyed!

The final thing I think about laughter is: we shouldn’t take life too seriously. We’re not here that long, let’s have fun while we are! Do silly things, just for the hell of it: sing Christmas songs in July; wear daft glasses – or a fez – on family occasions; play the wash-board at jam nights.

Take photos of it all and then, in years to come, laugh at it again.

Some days the world can get you down. But...

Don't despair!

Some days the world just gets you down. It might be some bad personal news, or a tragedy reported in the media, or, as it was for me today, just a simple line bringing to mind some of the flaws in the world.

There are so many things that can bring pain, upset or difficulty in life. Sometimes it’s really easy to let them drag you down into a pit of despair – what’s the point in trying in the face of such problems?

But, in this short post, I just want to say that, whilst there are many ‘bad’ things going on, don’t let them drown out the good. The line in the email I received today was about a church (and the very mention of that ‘c’ word in itself will conjure up negativity for some of you!), and, though it depressed me, it also reminded me of why I’m working on a particular writing project at the moment, spurring me on all the more to make progress.

That’s pretty positive, for a ‘bad’ thing.

And, even if we can’t turn something round like that, there’s still no cause to throw in the towel completely. Yes, things go wrong, but look at the good work done by aid organisations and individuals across the globe. Or consider the friends we have, or the partners, pets, housemates – whatever – those people who are there, who have shared times, made memories, laughed, cried...just lived alongside us through everything. I believe there is always some good to be found, if we only look for it.

As Martyn Joseph – and 6,000 or so fans – sang at Greenbelt: ‘There’s still a lot of love around here...’

I wholeheartedly agree.

Greenbelt (Well, some of it...)

For some reason, it always rains when
Martyn Joseph performs!

So, I went to Greenbelt, but came back early. There were a few reasons for this, but mostly it’s because I couldn’t deal with camping!

I got to see/hear a number of things though in the two days I was there, so thought I’d share a little about them.

Brian McLaren – On Friday evening I heard his talk about the importance of a fair tax system. Sounds incredibly dull, right? Well, it wasn’t. Through some illuminating stories, McLaren showed that, for a country to get out of poverty and remain so, a fair tax system must be in place so that a proper justice system can be maintained, so that necessary infrastructure can be created, so that education can be provided etc etc.

It made me think that, next time it comes to voting, I will take a good, long hard look at tax policy, and what the parties propose to do with the money, so that maybe my tax ‘dollar’ will be put to be better use in the world.

Martyn Joseph – This artist is my favourite of all. And his set on Friday night showed why. Playing with a small backing band, for the first time I’ve seen, he performed a series of songs from his latest album, and older ones, interspersed with insights into the things that really matter in this life.

It was, by his own admission, a mellower Martyn than perhaps seen in previous appearances – he made reference to the ‘trouble’ he got into last time he performed on Greenbelt’s main stage. But he had lost none of his fervour for fairness, justice and a better world, expressed through poignant and apt songs. Brilliant.

Rob Bell – I think most of this man’s work is excellent, and his talk on Saturday morning about how the only thing we have to be is ourselves, was no exception. We spend so much time trying to be like someone else, dismayed that we can’t do this, or we can’t do that, that we sometimes lose sight of the fact we were created to be no-one but who we are. So we should stop striving to be like someone else, and just focus on being more like ourselves. Something like that anyway.

Flight Brigade – I was really looking forward to seeing these guys live, and I’m glad I stuck around to hear them. Their song, ‘A girl who loves her smoke and wine’ is rapidly climbing my chart of ‘all time favourite songs’.

And that’s about it. I’m disappointed to have missed some other talks I really wanted to go to but, armed with my MP3 player, I will catch up when they’re available for download! And, in spite of the camping, I did have a good time, meeting some cool people – notably comedian Andy Kind – and just generally soaking up the atmosphere at this little festival that always feels a little bit like a homecoming for me.

With its theme this year of ‘Dreams of Home’, this seems an appropriate feeling to have, even for just my short stay.