The Path

It’s morning again and I don’t know which path to take.

I turned right and then right again. Then, after a short walk, I turned right once more to go through the passageway between houses.

Taking the right path is important to me. It’ll take me to the best destination.

I intend to turn right at the end of this road onto another, very long road but a sudden twinge in my hip makes me wonder if I’ll be able to reach my destination.

Being strong enough to reach the end of the chosen road is important. It’s a cold day for stopping, and resting will be uncomfortable.

As I walk this long road, always going forward, never stopping, I feel the breeze leaching warmth from my skin. The season is turning. Autumn approaching. The leaves shiver on the trees and we all know that a fall is inevitable. I watch the sky. Clouds. I watch the path. Wet. I watch the birds and the people passing by. They ignore me utterly.

The journey is as important as the destination. The journey will determine the shape you’re in when you reach the end. Every step, glance and impression will form you. Transform you.

I see the next curve before me. Around it is the end. Should I walk on?

The path ends.

End of the path.

Where Life’s At

Track

I strongly suspect that all the fun people in the world are living just around the next bend in the road.

Just give me the strength to sit down right here and wait them out. Give me a heart that needs only what I have right here and now. Give me…

Ha, but listen to me asking for more. I have a place to sit. I have the sense to sit here. I have the patience to wait. I have the faith that…

Then, my, goodness – life comes rip-roaring around the bend and smacks me in the face.

Just to rewind a tad – I had got me a bundle of sweet-smelling (and, more importantly, dry) cut grass to sit on, and the shade of a tree to rest within, and I had settled down to appreciate my particular brand of here and now.

This is what it looked like:

Field by the River Ouse.

It was quiet. I closed my eyes. I breathed deeply and inhaled the fragrance of morning, the peace of bird-chirp and muted, distant traffic. I felt the caress of a slight, warming breeze.

And then this woman comes pounding around the corner in fluorescent-blue jogging-gear followed by her lolloping, long-legged hound. And all goes well until another woman appears around the opposite bend similarly clad in shocking-pink, accompanied by a small, yapping dog.

And the dogs came together and frolicked barkily and the women came together and loudly apologised and then, equally loudly, bonded over their hounds and as they all became best friends forever the yappy dog decided that I looked too suspicious and began to growl at me. Me!

What could I do? Well, I did what anyone would. I clicked my tongue, stretched out my hand to the wolf-descendant and smiled. A short while later, having been licked, loved and left by the friendly puppy-dog and the good-natured ladies I began to write this.

Life. Go for it and you’ll find that you’re in the midst. Sit and wait, and it finds you out, wherever you are. Either way – just live it.

The Death of Life

Woke up this morning with the thought that erasing anticipation from life is the beginning of death.

Strikes me that the whole of the enjoyment of life is about having something to look forward to and that if we don’t have this then we might as well be gone from this realm.

I don’t see either having or not having things to look forward to as being either positive or negative. They just are what they are. Similarly, I don’t see life or death as being positive or negative states.

I mean, I’m feeling great. Everything is working okay and I’m enjoying what I do and what I don’t do. My life is contentedly empty right now. I chat to you, and sometimes you reply. I chat to the rabbits in the fields and, similarly, they sometimes reply. And don’t worry, I’m not talking about words. I’m not at all in that sort of space.

It sometimes crosses my mind that I might be brainwashed, or something like that, but then I wonder what advantage anyone would get from making me as content as I feel. It’s not as if it would make anyone happy to see me being happy, right?

So, yeah – must get back to work now. Half an hour to go and I’ll be done, then I can enjoy enjoying the rest of the day.

Apropos to nothing – I wonder what effect eating 125g of 70% chocolate at around 11am has on a person.

A Life in the Day (6-7)

I’ve never used my name as part of a pun, but it strikes me that maybe I should, and maybe now is the time to do so. There’s a song by The Beatles called A Day In The Life. There’s a life being lived by me. My name is Robert Colin Day. Day. So this is a Life in the Day; geddit? Hmm. Maybe that should read A Life of the Day. Otherwise, it’s, like, a life in the daytime. Ach, whatever. It’s dark at 6am, which is when this story starts, so clearly that is night and not day!

I’m using an app called Sleep as Android, which is billed as a sleep cycle tracker and smart alarm. It woke me up seven hours after I went to sleep, which is to say 6am. I paused it and slept until 6:10am then the alarm went off. I paused it for another ten minutes. It went off again. I didn’t have anything to do that I wanted to do today and I still don’t and so that’s why I spent the first half of the first hour of today in blissful ignorance of the meaninglessness of today (to me). That said, I bet that there are dozens of people for whom the day has lots of meaning. Kudos to y’all.

I woke up (each time) with a slight headache and so the first thing I did when I finally got up was to go downstairs, grab a cup and drink two helpings of water from the tap. imag24212782984066572499752.jpgActually, there were lots of other things in between, like putting the radio (Radio One on the Sounds app on my phone) on, pulling on yesterday’s t-shirt, slipping my feet into my slippers, walking downstairs, turning the alarm off and walking through the living room and dining room into the kitchen. Minutiae, but who knows how the world will change in the future to make these things seem novel. And other countries have completely different set-ups too; floors might not be made of wood, windows not made of glass and dining not done on plates. And in outer space, people don’t walk. And on other planets orbiting around other suns, this might not make sense at all. Or maybe it will. Maybe there are people sat on other planets reading our internet and thinking ‘my god, they’re just like us!’

Drinking water and eating bananas move me. Well, maybe not all of me, but they certainly move a part of me. Think of a part of the body with five letters starting with b and ending with l. Hey, I bet you didn’t know that you’d get a crossword in this! Here’s another one: three letters starting with p and ending with o. Actually, when I think about it: the whole of me was moved. All of me went into a small room and sat down for a while. Yay!

And that takes us up to 7am.

Cut!

(flush)

What Happened Last Night

Milk’s got to be cold, right? Warm milk on cereal is not nice. It’s just not. So when I came to eat my breakfast this morning, I was disappointed to find that there were only a couple of mouthfuls of milk left in the carton on the fridge and I had omitted to move a new carton from the top of the cupboard into the fridge yesterday.

I guess it was with the excitement of going to the movies. I saw IT Chapter Two last night and it didn’t finish until minutes to midnight. And by that time, the buses had finished running and it was raining and I was half an hour away from home and it was cold and did I mention that I’d just watched a scary movie and it was dark and almost midnight. Eek!

I stopped driving a few years ago. Gave the car away to my dad. He uses it but I still own it and pay the insurance and road tax and all of the that. I also own a little red sports car that I’ve never driven. But hey, if I walk everywhere then it saves the planet just a little bit, right? It cuts down on the emissions etc. etc. I’m doing my bit, yes?

So I ran home last night. I tried to make it in twelve minutes, which would have got me home before twelve, but it took me thirteen minutes and so I arrived home at a minute after midnight. Pumpkin hour; but that minute wasn’t enough time for anything to catch me before I got in and locked the door behind me. I was in bed within minutes.

But in the process of getting to bed so quickly, I didn’t think ahead to the next morning. I didn’t put milk in the fridge to get cool for my morning cereal. Which is a bit of a downer in one sense, because I’m hungry. But it’s good in another sense because while the milk is cooling in the freezer, I get a chance to write this.

Hello; good morning. Today’s going to be a great day. Enjoy!

My Life

It would be so cool if something that I wrote went viral and slapped me firmly down in the middle of a spotlight of media and popular attention. But then again, I totally value my privacy and the quiet life I have that gives me the ability to move through life like a ninja with cat DNA.

It would be so cool if I won a million pounds today and someone came around to present me with a cheque and told me that it all had to be spent by the end of the year. But then again, think of the pressure of having to spend that much so quickly. And the conflict between what I want and what the people around me want. And think of what would happen after the year finished and I would be left with a whole set of things that need maintaining, but without having the means to do that. I imagine that a bigger house would mean more maintenance and taxes. A faster car would mean more petrol. Land would need defending. Art, gold and jewels would need better security. Et cetera, et cetera.

It would be so cool to have the balls to go out and seize life by a similar portion of its anatomy and do all the things that I’ve never had the courage to do, like start a business, love people more fervently, buy land and build a forest on it, or quit all that I am and do things differently. But then again, I constructed this life. I made all my choices. I built what I am, second by second, and I did it this way for a reason. I love things just the way that they are. Anyone for a nice cup of tea?

So Many Secrets

I was going to write this erudite (brainy) piece about how it’s easier for me to talk to ugly women rather than beautiful ones, but I realised that I’m totally not supposed to be viewing people in those terms; so I won’t.

My life is full of these little dead-ends. Many of the things that I really want to write about are off-limits. It’s rather frustrating to be frank.

I feel like I want to be open and honest, but I feel constrained and inauthentic.

I’m willing to bet that I’m not the only one.

I wonder if this is why there are so many blogs and stuff like that with nom-de-guerres and pseudonyms.

Some of the anonymous blogs I’ve read feature people pouring their heart out about interesting and deep things relating to their lives and loves. I can only assume that they would be ashamed to talk about these wonders to their friends and family. For myself, when read them, I tend to think heck, this is just normal stuff, This is just life!

Still, it doesn’t feel normal to those who are living this kind of a lie.

Like me.

And don’t get me wrong, I’m not a serial killer nor nothing like that. I’m as vanilla as you are and as multi-dimensional as you feel. I’m just all up inside myself is all.

And here I go again – I’ve written all these words, but said nothing about what really matters to me – as usual.

Heɪ həʊ – lʌɪf!