My Philosophical Moment.

This month is a blog with a difference. People ask me all the time, "Where do you get your inspiration from? Where do you write? What do you write about?

This is an extract of a couple of hours of my life. I enjoy writing in busy places. My environment inspires me. What follows is a piece I've written two days ago including my reflection on attending the recent Turner Late and the subsequent deep thoughts that follow it.

The scene around me allowed me to relax. In the main area, an artist played on a Chinese instrument they called ‘Stingy’. They played exceedingly well, the audience mesmerized by their skills and the connection with Mandarin sounds.
Outside, a workshop on Salsa and Tango clashed with the Chinese vibe. The raspberry mojito helped, and the diversion of the Algo Bonda, a mouth watering spicy potato snack, prepared by The Curry Mistress, completed the experience.

Beyond the sky morphed into a glorious creamy orange teamed with original sky-blue tones. Chords rang out pure and insistent encompassing the area with vibrant sound. People came and went trying to move across the space discreetly and failing. Their movement distracting as the Salsa rhythms flowed through the double automatic doors – continually opening and closing, a juxtaposition to their footwork.

The finale. They rose to sing and moved in harmony to their music. A good vibe. As the last note fell, the audience vacated the space like a fire alarm had gone off. Fast, and furious they fled.

The evening wore on. Three salsa dances later and I’m outside the Bull’s Head pub in old Market Place drinking a pint of coke—no ice. I’ve not written any more of my Legacy manuscript but had a lovely evening writing. Waiting for my beloved to arrive after I texted him. He’ll turn up, probably stay for a beer too, if I know him and I think I do.

Temperatures nice, warm breeze enough to cool me down after my exertions dancing. Knee aches now. I’ll be regretting it come tomorrow. I don’t care. The journey continues. Its not the pain, misery or sadness that kills you. It’s the giving up.
Its hard not giving up. A tempting lure calling throughout one’s lifespan. If it were chocolate I’d be gone decades ago. An insistent niggle, subdued by recent death threats, bringing home the stark reality of my morality.

Life feels endless, till it isn’t. Till death pokes you, reminds you that life here is finite. Not a right, but a gift. Often with expectations and outcomes.

A timer counting down. For some within hours of their birth. For others a very long century. The vast majority of us never reach this milestone. An unreachable dream; lost, thrown away, or broken. Who knows?

With such uncertainty it’s hard to choose. Either to tiptoe gently through life, taking care of others and yourself.

To ignore others and stay true to your own needs.

Or manage a mish-mash of both?

It’s hard.

When I look at other people and animals. I feel guilty, because their world is about survival. No time to sit and muse on their progress. Each day concerned with surviving. Finding enough to eat, to drink, places to sleep.

To live in guilt, a human occupation for me, that I have in plenty. I sit moaning about my life expectancy and what to do about it.

Life is hard no matter who or what you are.

What’s relevant? The word hard is relative. Unless its related to inanimate objects—I guess.

How do you stop something being hard?

For inanimate objects maybe find something harder to squash or squeeze them. Does that make them softer? No. Thinner. Covering a greater area but still hard, until they break under the pressure. Force doesn’t work, it alters the appearance but inside it’s the same state. We’re the same state.

Adding something to it maybe? Altering its essential parts, relaxing the structure.
Providing its not so much in dissolves into nothingness— without identity or purpose. In the organic world this means joining with someone else. Connections. Relationships. Creatures form packs, flocks, herds and shoals. They procreate to produce more packs, flocks, herds and shoals. Protection & safety.

With inanimates, the addition cannot overwhelm, otherwise it remains in its original state allowing excesses of abuse, violence, chemicals regardless. Or it breaks.

Things are not as hard if they are shared. Keeping hard, to yourself results in isolation, loneliness and ultimately—surrender.

Lesson learnt.

Sharing a life with someone else, is better for that life than staying alone.

This doesn’t necessary mean a permanent relationship. Friends, partners, colleagues, customers, pets—this is sharing life.