Promote your love of music and writing, what if we had neither?

Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent. ~Victor Hugo



Sometimes it really does seem impossible to be silent. Things in your life just get to you and you have to let them out. Maybe through joy or maybe this feeling is born of frustration.

At times like this I often seek consolation in the expanse of music. It can heal me on so many levels. Using music as a tool in this way works because it follows some core rules;

First – I must silence my mind to properly focus on the music.

Second – Whatever music I choose (consciously or not) has a connection and therefore a meaning which I can ponder.

Third – Being carried by the rhythm of music is a primal motion that brings out emotion in a controlled manner.

Fourth – The path of the music can often teach (or remind me of) a lesson.

I have used the power of music throughout the course of my life. Ups and downs have had a soundtrack. In my naiveté I used to believe that I could teach other people how to cope with life by sharing my musical preferences.

Of course, music that speaks to me does so for a whole set of reasons. Reasons that may or may not apply to anyone else.

I find that writing can work in a very similar way.

If you don’t believe me, just go back to the four “rules” and replace the word music with the word writing.


But there’s more. Writing has a greater power.


Good writing speaks to you the same way music does. Mental peace, a doorway to contemplation, a controlled rhythm and a lesson. The written word can bring all these, but the best, most beautifully constructed writing can become timeless by combining profundity with simplicity.

Music relies on a mental placeholder to connect the song with the emotion, something that marks a sentimental location in the listener’s life, a geotag on feelings. Writing can break through this barrier. Truly great writing can yield a response by painting a picture that needs no other connection. I’ll give you an example.

I quite like the song "Spirit of ’76" by The Alarm, if you don’t know it I recommend you find it, it’s worth a listen.

When I hear it I am carried back to days of my youth and my mind dawdles pleasantly through my memories of a past self. As the song says "I find myself in reverie". The song itself rises from quiet and reflective tones to sharp and proud guitar hammering and is perhaps a little harsh for some people, sad too as well as being a call to action. 

All round good music, but I would think that most of you that hear it will not have the connection with it that I have. Perhaps I'm wrong, but it is mathematically unlikely that you heard the song for the first time in the same way that I did, unlikely that you were in the same frame of mind or the same place in your life. How could it say the same thing to you that it does to me?

On the other hand, the written word is not constrained by the rules of music, the pattern can be ignored (carefully). If this is done with skill then all the references required to paint the intended picture, to induce the emotions are imparted in one short sentence or paragraph.

For instance, a favourite quote of mine is by Marcel Proust “Let us be grateful to the people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners that make our souls blossom”.

That is a turn of phrase performed with a level of skill to which I can only dream of aspiring. Pertinent, inspirational, descriptive; nothing missed and not belaboured. 



So perhaps I should look at this another way. Perhaps the two are opposite ends of a continuum. Music gives generously while writing must be produced.

I am a consumer of music, but I never compose (except within the depths of my mind), but I am both a consumer and a producer of writing.

The act of producing writing gives me more than the act of hearing music.

Maybe you feel the same way?

Either way, a world with neither would be a barren, joyless pit that I would not wish to inhabit. 

That is why I encourage others to enjoy both music and writing. Let your soul drive for a bit.

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The Picnic Table: Carry your scars with pride.

The Garden Bench - Warts and all

Quite a few years ago, I determined that our garden would be significantly more enjoyable if it contained a picnic bench. It was a great purchase, we have all used it again and again. It is nothing special. A simple “A-frame” construction but it has served us well.
I remember clearly, sitting on it in the middle of the night,

nearly seven years ago, as my wife’s contractions grew closer together, waiting for the in-laws to arrive for “sitting” duty, before we went to the hospital.

It holds many memories, but the years are beginning to show on this item now. The bolts and screws are getting loose. 

The weather has wrought cracks across the surface of the wood.

So a couple of weeks ago, I decided it was time I refurbished this revered piece of garden furniture. I sanded, replaced screws, tightened bolts and painted the old friend with a weatherproof stain.

When the work was done, it looked like a new bench. 

No more rickety wobble when we sat on it, but still, it wasn’t quite new. Looking closely, still visible, were the cracks from year after year of alternating rain and sun, expanding and contracting the wood. These marks cannot be hidden with mere sanding and staining.

I suppose I could have bought a new one. They are not that expensive, but this one had been with us through so many events that it seemed only right to put in the effort that might see it survive a few more years.

On reflection, I am glad I kept the old thing.

Every time I use it now, I can ponder the things it has seen. A new table would not have brought those thoughts to mind. A new bench may have been easier, it may go on for a few more years, it may not need painting, but it would not have had any connection with my past.

So now, I look at those cracks and I compare them to lessons that life has taught me. Lessons that may not have been pleasant, that may have left an emotional scar, but without those lessons I wouldn’t be me.

Some people try to hide the emotional scars that life leaves, sometimes a person can pretend; “Nothing to see here”. Those people often come across as less genuine. The people that are easier to trust are the ones that let the scars show. Individuals that seem confident, that progress through life with tenacity and courage have often learned to be that way because of the scars that they have collected.

Don’t be afraid of sharing your imperfections. 

Just like the treasured bench, cracks are what will remind people to love you, more than that, the imperfections are you!

The scars we bear should be carried with pride, not pushed onto others, not paraded, simply left on show.

Let people see the real you whenever you can.

I dare you.



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Don't beat around the bush

Focus on the message. Be clear when making a point.


A couple of years ago, we were lucky enough to go on a cruise around the Mediterranean. We saw some wonderful sights. It is a trip I will remember for a very long time.

As you might imagine on a trip like this, 

we all took a lot of photographs.

 In fact Zac, my eldest son, took a real interest and was never far from the camera. 

After each trip we would review the snaps and discuss what we had seen. Inevitably, I also took a few of him photographing the surroundings. Most of these pictures were fairly ordinary, but some of them have come out really well, they tell the whole story in one happy image. 

This is Zac, with the camera, in St Marco square, Venice

This picture tells the whole story, the crowds, Zac with the camera, the sunny weather. It’s all there.  

Zac again, same activity, this time in Split

This photograph tells exactly the same story crowds, Zac with camera, sunshine, but I prefer this photo.

When I thought about the difference between the pictures, I realised that I prefer this snap because the message is much clearer. Both pictures have the same subject, in virtually the same setting, but the second image tells the story so much more clearly.

This is how it should be with other forms of communication.

Be clear and focus on the message.

When writing, just as with conversation and photography, any point should be concise.

Just In case my photographic examples don’t make it clear, I have over-emphasised this by saying the same thing in a rather more long-winded way, below.

If one is implementing the act of manuscription it is of paramount importance that any drafted passages remain breviloquent and undarkened by belabouring or coercive vocabulary. In precisely the manner adopted when engaged in the execution of conversation, candour should be held uppermost.

See what I mean?

Remember, direct does not need to be offensive or abrupt, simply precise.

Speak to people in a way that best tells your story.



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The blue Hydrangea blossom - Different is good

“It is never too late to be who you might have been” – George Eliott 

As I walked around our garden today, I paused by the Hydrangea. It sits at one side of the garden, near the gate from the road, so greeting visitors.

Right now is the height of summer and the Hydrangea is giving it’s all. 

Throwing everything into flowering.

Pretty much every bloom is showing. The least I can do is stop and enjoy it for a moment.

Our Hydrangea, unlike most, has for years almost exclusively produced pink blooms. So it is with some interest that I notice a beautiful blue head of flowers, right in the middle of the shrub. 

This strikes me as so different, so unusual, that I have to take a picture.

As I look at the plant (really, I’m only looking at the blue flower, but don’t tell the others) I consider the parallels with life.

Many, even most people try hard to fit in, not wanting to seem odd, different, or unusual.

Being different can be hard.

But abnormality is often worth it, for many reasons.

Difference is the way we describe the world.

Imagine that you see a clean, white sheet of A4 paper. On that paper is one small solitary dot. The dot is the difference on that sheet of otherwise immaculate white.

Now imagine you have to direct me to select a piece of paper from a group. You will likely say “pick that one, with the spot” or maybe “not the one with the mark on it”. Either way, you have used the difference to describe the world. It would be very unlikely that you would say “Pick the sheet of paper with ever so slightly less white”

Difference is how we evolved.

If it weren’t for genetic mutation (differences within the genome), evolution would not be possible. If every strand of DNA were to replicate itself perfectly, then no new species could have developed, natural selection could not have made choices about more or less suitability for our environment. We could not exist!

Difference prevents boredom.

My last argument for difference is a simple one. Who would want to exist in a world where nothing ever changed? Everything the same. That would be the most tiresome, repetitive, tedious struggle I can imagine.

Difference does mean that sometimes we have to accept the bad with the good. Everything in life has a down side, but this one is really worth it.

This choice can make you free.

If you choose to be different, suddenly you can choose to be whatever you want, to start building the person you would really like to become. It will take work. You will make mistakes, but being different will get you to a new you.

Enjoy the difference you see around you, try to be part of it. Revel in the unusual. Take in the strange. Learn.

Don’t be the person that someone else suggests.

Be different.

Make the change. Be the blue flower on the Hydrangea.
Live your way.

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Writing versus conversation

“Write down the thoughts of the moment. Those that come the most unsought for are commonly the most valuable.” ~ Francis Bacon

Today I thought about this quote and decided to follow it's advice, this is what happened.

Dictated or Articulated?

What’s writing for, that elsewise could be said?

Disgorging echoes grown inside the head.

To distribute the printed words instead,

Is asking for endorsement, more widespread.

When ink is forged on insubstantial pages,

The contemplated subject can take ages.

Studied discourse, structured well in stages,

But, too late to fire or quell another’s rages.

Discussion, though is ebb and flow of speech,

At every turn a new chance to beseech.

The written word, that even time can’t bleach,

Must carefully consider how to teach.

So, think carefully when preaching to your troops,

And ponder more when diarising scoops.

But most of all, when one exhorts to groups,

Judge well before you publicise it.

Oops!

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