Changes

Thanks to Pam for leaving this blog's first ever comment with the tale of her mechanical 80s iPod. The fact that a CD changer can now be regarded as an antiquated relic makes me feel very old indeed. And I never even got around to owning one...

Thanks too to Paul for your contribution. (I should explain that I know both Pam and Paul from my previous life as a fanzine writer. It's been great to hear from them, but please also feel free to contribute if you don't know me. This blog is open to everyone.) As Paul says, there is something very compelling about random plays, though it's a bit problematic for me with all the audio books on my player. It's a bit disconcerting when Jimi Hendrix fades into Charles Dickens.

A few weeks ago, I went to my osteopath and we listened to random Hanna Barbera themes on his laptop. There's nothing like having your bones manipulated to The Flintstones. But we both agreed that it's wondering what's going to play next that's the really interesting bit. Actually listening to the tunes themselves can sometimes be tedious by comparison. After all, some of them last over three minutes! - and when Bridge Over Troubled Water comes on, it's positively traumatic. (No, I didn't mean that. I mean that it's long...) It's waiting for what comes next that seems to be what's important.

There's an important spiritual lesson in that last sentence. See if you can spot it, and feel free to comment if you do (or don't). (And this is only the second post! At this rate, we'll all be enlightened by Christmas.)

Pam also mentioned that this blog is a bit impersonal, so I've taken the time to improve and expand my biography. It now tells you a bit more about me and explains how my life experience has finally blossomed into this glorious blog. It also explains a bit more about what the blog is about, which may be useful, especially in view of the rather cryptic spiritual content there's been so far. You may feel that my aspirations  are a bit ambitious in view of the fact the blog so far has approximately two readers, but hey, you've got to start somewhere. So please go and take a look at the bio (just click on "About") and I'll be back with another post real soon.

Comments

[Paul Vincent]

Ah, we're talking "Be Here Now", aren't we? Living in the moment is something I like to do whenever I can, but it's not easy, is it? Indeed, the moment you think "I really should inhabit the Here And Now a bit more", you're striving towards a desirable state in the future. And the "future" bit sabotages the whole notion of inhabiting the present moment. And desires (as Buddhism observes) are the cause of all our existential pain. So inhabiting the moment is a state that has to be sort of sidled up to, without actually fixing your mind's gaze on it. But it's wonderful when it happens. Suddenly, you're filled with the sheer wonderment of being where and when you are. Then you realise you're thinking about the wonder of what just happened, instead of being absorbed in the experience itself. And it all collapses again, like a cartoon image of a souffle (we all know they don't really collapse that drastically in real life, and that they'd still taste good even if they did...). One simple exercise to move towards the here and now is to stop taking photographs (since you're thinking about recording the moment, instead of just experiencing it). Another is to write without planning what you're going to write. A bit like this comment, which is a nicely self-justifying get-out clause if this turns out to be a load of old pants!

[Paul Vincent]

Oh, forgot to mention: the iPod shuffle feature automatically excludes podcasts and audiobooks, so the Hendrix/Dickens dissonance doesn't arise. Unless you have an mp3 of Hendrix reading Dickens, or Dickens playing a ukelele behind his back...

[Harry]

Well, Paul got there before me, but what I wanted to say was that "waiting for what comes next .... seems to be what's important" has to be the wrong way to go about it. That way you never get to appreciate the moment. Not that I'm an expert at appreciating the moment, but I've got better at it since I quit the Civil Service and became a full-time artist. Were it not for money worries I'd be living in the moment far more, but letting yourself fall into a painting or drawing is the perfect way of just "being" I find.

I suggest that you try eating green beans every third Thursday. You might then find after a while that every third Wednesday you were no longer looking forward to tomorrow.