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Fear
I’m afraid of being afraid. I’m fearful of doubt. I’m filled with a grief that swells and heaves every cell within me. Fear has hunted and hurt me with a psychopathic spear. And still it twists and yanks my gut into a primordial soup of anguish.
Its power wields a web of confusion over all my better judgement holding hands with my pride while it sleeps with my insecurity.
Fear has caused me to mistrust my love and optimism for others. It disguised itself as a wall of comfort and set up unnecessary defences that let slip in the wrong emotions and blocked the ones that heal me.
It feigned elevation and progress while in reality I was sinking into a false perception. I could no longer see through this veil of deceit. It made me will a negative force to corrupt all the purity I should have believed in.
Fear has pulled me away from love. It led me only to the dark and wiped the light of my eternal day. It urged me to bury the wish to utter these honest words.
I have been paralysed with the terror that I could not muster the courage I know I possess to reach out to those I care for and calmly express why I feel this fear. Then, I was blinded to even search for the foundation of these feelings. The origin of where pain lies, gives life to a suffering that cripples every human soul.
I looked deep into myself the other day and asked to reveal my nature. I responded and met myself. I saw a younger person, riddled with wonder and inexperience and filled with the ghosts of mistakes.
Her tears were the pearls of intuition that bled from clearer eyes. She pleaded with me to remember who she was. She lay her cheek on my hand and sighed a breeze that billowed through the empty rooms of my regret.
I received her compassionate smile and absorbed the reassurance of this knowing between us.
My own reflection, relinquished my true loneliness. And a consuming vigour of clarity enveloped my ageing vehicle. I suddenly felt my feet tingle and wriggle and touch the soft textures pressing against my buzzing skin. My vision became a piercing sense of vibrant colours, magnifying every snapshot I viewed. My internals, pumped and flowed a chanting beat of life throughout this new body of me.
I did not want to escape the neverland of truth. I was there. Whole. I did not move. I did not think. I did not question. I just felt. Everything.
A swirling energy of glistening warmth now offered real protection. Those barren walls of fear cracked and crumbled furiously fighting for a final victory. But it turned in on itself. It became diluted in to a radiant peace.
I moved and danced to my natural rhythm. This time, had bred a new understanding.
I was going to be okay.
If the wind blows too hard and you’re heading straight for rocks, sometimes the best thing you can do, is let everything go. The boat will eventually ride itself head to wind. You may even have to let the current drift you slowly so that even if you crash, at least you’re finally grounded.
Love’s line hauled my life from the roaring ocean.
All I had to do, was hang on.
Posted in November 2011
6 Comments
Music to our ears
The craft of musicianship in Ireland is regularly treated with a divinity that is infiltrated with an air of secrecy and initiation. This is not only an injustice to the masses it is an insult to the realm itself. Music is only as valuable as when it is shared and appreciated by all. A new paradigm of musical education is needed in this country to help students of all ages and experience to fully understand its rudimentary concepts. These ideas should be communicated with a sense of gentle honesty.
How is it that people from foreign countries come to Ireland and successfully manage to think, count, communicate and work through a different if not secondary or possibly third language? Not only do they lack a choice, they probably have been aptly trained to think in this way. This could be contributed to a natural confidence that comes with growing up with an appreciation for multilingual communication. But it is also greatly supported by learning through actively speaking another language everyday by ear.
As with language, the same dilemma underlies the foundation of musical education in Ireland. Many look on at those with a ‘natural ability’ to play music enviously. Many of us look upon these gifted musicians with bewilderment and scorn as we assess our own ineptness of the hours and even years chained to a keyboard desperately trying to decipher those little black characters that malevolently teased us from lines on a page. We grimace at the thought as we attempted to translate them to a blank set of keys mocking us in our ignorance, despite the effort committed.
I’ve been to countless sessions all over the country where I have met a myriad of accomplished instrumentalists who recoil at the thought of joining in because they don’t know how to play by ear, mess around or simply give it a try. This is the result of an unfortunate collision of raw passion with an over regulated discipline of learning.
The various musical grades and state examinations are carefully constructed and supported by a deep history of classical music. Its influence is essential in setting a distinct standard of learning and demonstration of this knowledge through performance. But this can befall an ineffectual ‘box ticking’ approach to achieving these standards. Think of how many times you’ve heard people you know say that they only know their exam pieces or can’t play anything without relying on the aid of sheet music.
It’s probably unfair to only blame the examining system. Musical training facilities at most mainstream schools are not sufficiently developed, probably because it’s not considered as an economically rewarding subject. Thus many parents, if they can afford it, send their children to an institution, a local music school or a private teacher. Another potentially interfering factor is that VAT exemptions for music are largely centred on accreditation which means private music schools are forced to push through grading and state exam tutoring to make ends meet. This results in a compromise in developing the student into a well rounded musician who deeply understands their craft.
Music is assimilated, understood and digested through our ears, our skin, our imagination and our hearts. If one cannot work out a piece of music by ear, it is like an author trying to write a book without ever forming an opinion. You cannot enjoy playing a piece of music being spoon fed the information or if it hasn’t even been contemplated. And you couldn’t possibly begin to understand how the piece is constructed let alone how to communicate it expressively.
The average individual may not even consider studying music to a high academic level. It is then imperative for teachers to insight a passion for understanding in other ways. A rich tone and a sense of honest feeling must be conveyed through teaching so that it offers the student the chance to turn repetitive practising into the art of performing. If this is understood by the student, it makes the dedication and commitment to practise an integral part of the journey. This is truly where the enjoyment is. One effective method is to study contemporary music from whatever genre or artist will appeal to the student. It is vital to reveal what forms the bedrock of the composition and how music is just one facet of expression that reflects the environment around us, within us and how we react to it.
The real creativity that exudes from an individual is from the confidence they have within themselves to communicate how they perceive the world.
If we are to teach musical appreciation, let the mystery be lifted. What is needed to be taught and learned is how to understand it by ear. Then Ireland will quickly produce a pulsating new generation of musicians rich in skill of all levels and experience.
In the words of Shinichi Suzuki – “Teaching music is not my main purpose. I want to make good citizens. If children hear fine music from the day of their birth and learn to play it, they develop sensitivity, discipline and endurance. They get a beautiful heart.”
I think I could very comfortably live in an Ireland like that.
Posted in October 2011
1 Comment
The Black Sheep Effect
Like the resentful drunken grand-aunt that no-one wants to risk inviting to their wedding, Éire has become a hapless scapegoat for the European banquet.
We’re the kind of neighbour that you are warned about before they even enter the room. So predetermined the irreverence of our position among the boy’s club, it would insult even the most politically disarmed child. We thought we were riding high as a respected player, but all the while, it was the mask of our mascot’s costume that blinded our ability to account for the rules of the game.
I stumble out in an uncomfortable haze recoiling at the stench of smoke and broken glass – a staunch reminder that the part is not only over, the damage is the least of my worries. I can’t even find my shoes!
My guess at this point is that I could just be honest and say – I struggle daily to comprehend the spiralling plight that unfolds so incredibly before us.
This complicated country would be more appropriately portrayed as a tragic story of a beguiled woman waking from a nightmare of foolish associations. A life marred by the merciless surrender of individual autonomy in place of the illusion of security. She is now being commanded to pull up her socks and take responsibility for her actions. Instead, she would much rather try and tempt the old lover with a slight pulling up of the skirt and forget the little mess she’s gotten into.
In her youth she became involved with an older man of great social stature. A passionate woman, maybe a little rough around the edges, she was sold into a destructive and deeply painful relationship. The older man meticulously chipped away at her inherent strength, oppressing and callously knocking her achievements until she no longer realised the rooted extent of his control.
But he had not quenched her flame entirely.
Insult by injury sought to rekindle her spark into a righteous fury that propelled her to rebel and ultimately wrench the connection from her blossoming inner belief. She was alone, shaken, uncertain, lost and at odds with herself. Able to seek refuge with close friends she began to rebuild her broken life. But times were difficult and instead of using the full potential of this new lease of life, bills had to be paid, the show had to continue. So she took the opportunities that came her way and tried to focus on her dreams.
It was so much better being single and fancy free. Able to do what she wanted, see whomever she chose, not having to answer to anyone. She felt free. Although something was not quite right, it made sense to keep working hard. Then, she started to party even harder.
And very soon, she met a new man, one that seemed so much more suitable than the last. He had a lot more to offer and made her feel very honoured to enjoy the company of his friends. It was all very exciting. Even if a little reluctant inside, slowly and steadily the relationship grew. The drinking grew also. There was a constant hankering in the depths of her soul that things were not really working out, but it was alright to ignore. There wasn’t as much to complain about this time, at least he had good prospects and she truly admired him.
As the parties raged on she cruised the social scene and forged successful connections with whoever she encountered. She thought she was really beginning to establish herself, yet never fully realising, it was only based on his allowance.
Then one day he decided that her antics were beginning to encroach on his dealings. As she wildly cursed his cunning interception, he stood malevolently observing her and uttered “do as you please my dear, but if you leave, you leave with nothing”.
Rolled into a ball of distress, she sobbed helplessly into her shaking knees as the door clunked to a heavy close. The both knew she didn’t have it together enough to stand up straight.
The next chapter of her life slid into a dark reluctance to accept her reality. She had no freedom. Nothing she owned was really hers. The party was over, but she still had to keep dancing for him.
Others would look on at her apparent demise with a distanced pity. But you can never intervene such a relationship. “That’s between them. It’s very sad though, she could’ve really gone places”.
It would feel demoralising to end the story here. There is this part of the human condition that craves the light of hope.
So, by chance, one day she bumped into a very old friend of hers, one she had always wished to emanate. A thoughtful and very successful woman, who knew her long before any of these ill fated affairs had stained her life.
They spoke of the memories they enjoyed years before and of their dreams. The old friend could understand her grief. With a loving determination, the friend urged the deflated woman to remember what she was good at and that she did not have to depend on any relationship to offer her by way of providence. She could design it for herself calling all her resources to hand. But only as long as she was free.
Over the following few days, this realisation shook her so profoundly that it rang a perfect pitch of resonance through the cavities of her imagination.
She had always attended these events as the new mans significant other. Lately she was being branded an eccentric. A black sheep. An isolated woman whose dignity had suffered an exasperated blow.
As the weeks wore on, she gathered her thoughts, called around and devised an honest plan. There needed no gruesome severing of ties, just a cheeky slip out the back door and onto the main street.
Without a scene, she left the new man. And when she arrived at the next big occasion, clad in a stunning bespoke outfit designed by an associate, she confidently strolled into the room with the knowledge that she attended completely by her own will and held court with everyone there. Everyone – who she already knew.
A black sheep is still a part of the flock – but apart nonetheless. So, in order to realise your dreams – just wake up.
Posted in April 2011
4 Comments
Bottom to top, outside in, front to back
The natural world. It permeates and penetrates every orifice of this planet. Far beyond optimism and opportunistic colonisation, this life unfolds like a fractaling graphics display on our basic media players pulsating to the rhythms of vibration and frequency.
I have viewed with a thrilling and emotional gratitude, the elaborate fabric of the ecosystem. The ecological landscape of even the simplest system, reveals a bustling high street of natural business. The resources are available and all species barter, utilise and capitalise on its dynamic existence. All this is done without even one single monetary transaction.
Yet we can easily observe from a young age, that an ecosystem is upheld by a hierarchy. For the natural world, it is called ecology. For us humans, we are told it’s economy.
The fundamental difference between the economical and ecological system is in the flow of direction.
A hierarchy is defined as a system of grades of status or authority ranked one above the other according to the 1992 Oxford pocket English dictionary. It is also defined as a system of people or things arranged in a graded order in the 1996 Collins Gem English dictionary.
For most of us, we understand this hierarchy to be represented as a pyramidal structure. The implication is that the highest level is perched regally at the top in perfect balance due to its geometric magnificence.
A familiar anecdote for this is the Lion – ‘King of the jungle’, ‘top of the food chain’. An unarmed city kid would never stand a chance in combat against this refined, designed predator, let alone a giant ninja.
However, we need to disarm our discernment of the Lion’s ruling. I will explain with the following statement:
The Lion, is fearful, of the sun, that grows the grass, that feeds the Antelope, that fills its belly, that keeps it alive.
The Lion is a link connected to a dynamic vehicle driving towards an ideal of equilibrium. If the smallest nut or bolt are not accounted for, the machine cannot operate successfully.
A horse rider controls the reins and directs the horses’ energy to a desired path. Rider and horse both serve each other. I’m not an experienced rider nor do I have an inherent knowledge of the animal like many others I know. But there is one thing I do know. The relationship of rider and beast is a bond of mutual respect and determination. If it is otherwise, you do not ride, you meander at risk.
The wheels of the pyramid are not leveraged at the pinnacle, but at the base. In order for those wheels to move in any potential direction, they must undergo a process of revolution.
To revolve, each wheel must begin at one point and proceed in a full rotation which comes back to the same point of origin. In this process, the wheel progresses in a particular direction. To progress, it is essential that all wheels are working in a complimentary fashion, together. But the movement must be directed. Then who is the driver.
If we block out the light, the grass cannot grow. The pyramid falls. Each blade must feel the heat of the light to ensure its growth. But more importantly, each blade must root itself in the earth, lest it loosens and floats away with the wind and dies.
If I were competent to fully fathom all the intricacies and intimacies pervading ecological structures I would aptly qualify to deify myself. This is a matter of appreciating chaotic beauty. I would rather remain a captivated spectator of life’s capricious dance. And like any dance, the meaningful movement of two people interacting with their individual reactions, spins a web of playful and unpredictable desire.
The order of things can never be planned in advance. Evolution will certainly vote on that. Choas will inevitably crash the party, while reason broods alone with a stiff cognac on the rocks.
Any parent will admit that even with adept and careful organisation, a child is like a benevolent Tasmanian devil that creates a whirlwind of pandemonium without knowledge of the prescribed rules laid before them. There is no malice in their path, they are simply doing their job.
And as the almighty Sauron never banked on his ring being fingered by a mere hobbit, the real order of the day is to have faith in your bodily intuition to ride the wave. Apparently some surfers survived the Thai Tsunami by the length of this.
In the rolling out of a uniform civilisation, it only takes one individual ripple to sink the ship. Just like the blade of grass that must root itself, the hierarchy depends on its ability to shape the destiny of the Lion’s fate.
If the natural world respects the origins of true order, which is the individual diversity of function, then the hierarchy indeed should bow to its existence.
The leader serves, the warrior protects, the farmer nourishes, the artisan celebrates and the parent nurtures. And all wait in grateful anxiety for the coming of hope – the child – who can undo the wrong and make right what is.
The order of things? All beings diverse, Is.
Posted in March 2011
3 Comments
Professional assassination
BODY OF EMAIL
Notice to colleagues in relation to current project status
Dear All,
Effectively I have found it extremely beneficial currently to incorporate strategic tactics in consideration of assessing the targets in relation to internal project operations. Whilst one is encouraged to adopt a proactive attitude in harnessing and developing relationships with respective clients, it is imperative that vigilant streamlining of goals and objectives is achieved through rigorous round table discussions of the same.
With regards to time management of critical project stages, training and up-skilling of personnel is essential in deploying overall aims going forward. In order to mitigate any potential negative impacts on the system, a robust analysis of each stage is ultimately required to ensure each staff member is working from the same page which is greatly enhanced through frequent creative and holistic brain storming and idea shower applications.
Individuals must be competent in using their initiative and work as part of the team as enthusiastic professionals in order to deliver the facilitation and implementation of prescribed plans. The team must incite synergistic partnerships through an open door policy and recognise when to regularly ‘sit down’ and assess if schemes will stack up. Relationships will be managed through transparent channels utilising the promotion of bespoke plug and play technologies. All managers and personnel with appropriate authority are to be kept in the loop through integrated communication.
At this juncture, it is crucial to hit the ground running through the maximising of baseline benchmarks. From my understanding, this requires essential thinking outside of the box coupled with the roll out of think tank tactics. On confirmation of all actionable points in this regard, due diligence is essentially attached for accountability of this collaborative approach. Subsequently a ballpark peer to peer culture is to be maintained through increased cooperation of the agenda. Anything agreed previously is superseded to maximise the bottom line efficiency of procurement when postulating turn key acquisition.
These items are respectively incurred during the downturn of this economic climate for best practise of sustainable business ethics.
I very much look forward to your response,
With kindest regards,
Chief-Executive-Business-Development-Project-Coordinating-Managing-Director
LITERAL TRANSLATION
Irrelevant title to announce the importance of myself
To all my minion plebs,
I am a really, really important person. Oh you betcha shit heads, I get to write this notice in an email where you are all cc’d, or whatever that is! I get to tell you all in convoluted unintelligible ‘exec-speak’, absolutely nothing substantial at all. In fact, I’m not sure there’s one item in this email that is specific in any way.
But it doesn’t matter coz you’ll be so confused as to what these sentences actually mean that by the time I call you with my very important voice even though I sit across the desk from you, I will make a very loud condescending statement implying that you aren’t working to your full capacity so that everyone in the office hears me and thinks you’re crap so you’ll get fired waaay before I ever will.
By the way, I’m not even officially your boss, but because I act like I think I know what I’m saying with these really impressive office-exec-fancy-pancy-power-words, you automatically will fall into line because I’m that over powering.
So long suckers, you can do all the work while I mirco or macro or manage or something to that effect and command a undeservingly better salary while I wear my shoulder pads, stick my tits out and fondle my pearl necklace with a sense of greatness, even though I’m only two weeks older than you and you have been working here two years longer than me.
But hey, whoever said office politics can’t be stylish are totally not in on the game.
Up your insignificant arse. That’s how I roll,
Yours very insincerely,
Some rancid bitch with a fake title.
Posted in January 2011
10 Comments
Beauty and pain – the light switch effect
Every rainbow is preceded by a cloud or a storm. The cloud, darkens our day with the ominous promise of some form of inconvenient precipitation. The storm, a powerful force that gives life to its tangibility. But the rainbow, so delicately visual, so utterly unreachable, so rare a delight – it injects such an unexpected burst of joy inside us, that we forget instantly of the soaking clothes that cling and drench our skin on first glimpse of that spectrum spanning the sky with pure light. Its origin is simply explained by science, but still does not detract from the pleasure it offers us.
A week to go to my finals, and I was stressed. Even though I had all the lights on in my family dining room, the greyness moved osmotically through the glass from outside. I felt overwhelmed by the heaps of unsorted paper on the table. Some moments later, I felt a change in atmosphere and turned to peer out the window. To my childish delight, a magnificent rainbow boldly announced itself with its charming magic, and suddenly, I knew that everything was going to be alright. I studied with a new vigour for the remainder of that day.
In my modest twenty-eight years, I can say, I’ve had a good life. But even in saying that, there has been a great deal of pain and there has also been a great abundance of bliss. I know there’s no particular template we can necessarily draw from when it comes to carving out our paths in life, but I’ve often wondered what realistic proportions of pain and happiness are we to experience? Is there a standard percentage we can use to determine what a healthy balance of what each should be? And is there a watershed amount one can experience until full meltdown is achieved? Would it be fair to say 50 / 50? But the difficulty with this kind of reasoning is the exact determination of what misery or happiness is.
Then the next problem we are faced with is the point of relativity.
I’ve heard a lot of people throughout my life making the following statement regarding various degrees of life’s occurrences; “well it’s all relative really!” – which usually involves the determination of ones’ suffering. Einstein colloquially expressed his masterpiece of physical contemplation by saying “put your hand on a stove for a minute and it seems like an hour. Sit with that special girl for an hour and it seems like a minute. That’s relativity”.
I suppose it falls into place with the phrase “time flies when you’re having fun”. But we become miffed by the prospect of such a penance. Our emotional face defends the right to savour such moments of splendid rapture. So why does our pain command so much greater an experience of awareness than the seemingly fleeting milliseconds of our desired state of mind? This is the very origin of our determined perceptions.
Let me embellish my last point. I will refer to another infamous philosophical transaction: “is the glass half full, or is it half empty?” At this juncture, one is typically urged to respond with a designated reply constituting either an ‘optimistic’ or ‘pessimistic’ nature. Our characters are then socially judged on the outcome of our conclusion. I find this a somewhat limiting approach.
Who made those rules I say to myself. Why can’t you just answer the way you really feel. For me, I say, nah – it depends on where you are coming from. Let’s say for example, you begin with an empty glass and a liquid is poured to the halfway mark – well then off course its half full. If, on the other hand, you begin with a full glass of liquid and half is extracted – well it goes without saying, it then is half empty. At this alternative juncture, we can surmise a more astute proposal – your answer, is only ever as good, as your question. So we would need to ask in the beginning, “never mind what constitutes the glass in determining your approach to life. What we need to ask is – where did you come from and where are you this instant?”. That’s relativity for now.
Despite the easy life I’ve enjoyed, when I was sixteen I experienced a bleak mist of uncertainty that almost drove my perceptual capacity to near extinction. I was, on all accounts, solidly depressed. This was exasperated by a deep sense of guilt at my ingratitude and the utter shame of being unable to admit it. However, unbeknown to me at the time, I have polycystic ovaries and an unfortunate side effect of this very common ailment in women is feeling depressed. I mourn the years I spent thinking something was actually wrong with me.
But the experience was not discarded in vain. I had struggled with my inability to comprehend the intense emotions that enveloped me. It was a truly lonely but beautiful time and I vowed a resignation to fall in love with the pain that pierced every crevice within me.
So I began to sing. It became the only way I understood to heal the rot that had consumed my rude awakening to adulthood. Music was a natural ebb and flow to my chaotic soul, lulling my mind to a sound sense of harmony. As crazy as it sounds, I made friends with this opposing creation of body and adolescence. Time is not a feature I considered through this altering experience. I don’t know exactly when it began or even when it ended. But at some point, I decided I was at peace. With. Myself. Then a steady and powerful wave drowned my sensual reality, flooding the plains of my thoughtful imagination.
But it was private then. Until, one night upstairs in Slattery’s bar on Capel street, the first gig I performed with a soul band I embarked with for many years, I exposed these feelings of utter terror and acceptance. It erupted through my inner chambers and sprang as a prism of pure emotion. I felt outside of myself, but with a satisfied control. I could no longer lie.
In effect, I just grew up. I learned the heat of my personal pain, however ridiculous it could seem to everyone, could be transformed into a source of enjoyment for others. And it made me happy. Because we all feel the same, no audience will believe you, unless you are genuinely enjoying it yourself. Performance is an act. Give me a mask and I will show you who I really am, as terrifying as it is to convey.
Just over two years ago, my life was finally coming into its own. Then with an insidious flash of fate, within three weeks, that life was ripped so impertinently from my grasp. I was powerless. The three things I had valued with so much pride; my relationship, my career and my little motor car – were gone. I wrote a poem shortly after entitled “The Power of Three” as a means to digest the situation. All I can recall is the final line – “you only know what you really have, when everything you thought you had, is taken away”.
And what had I left?
The meaningful and loving relationships of my family and friends. These beautiful gifts were the forces that clotted my bleeding life back together, forged by a band of enduring warriors of love. I thought I would be destitute, but within a few months I was back on track. Because – I asked for their help.
I remember standing at the kitchen sink in the days following the dissolution of everything. My flatmate was there at the time and I asked her what the hell was I going to do about my future, how was I going to get it together. She replied, without a flinch of hesitation: “Marie, it’s pretty shit what’s happened to you, but you know, how many times in life, do you get a clean slate, a chance to start out all over again?”. And that was it. In one sweeping statement, she made me realise, that even the worst type of situation can be turned into an opportunity.
The silver lining is that it can always be worse, just like Granny used to say. The ominous cloud carries the means to produce the rainbow. All it needs is light.
No man is an island. But we all are emotionally at times. However, the bridges we build to each other should become sturdy feats of engineering, not tantalising tide ropes of convenience. A bridge can take many years to construct. But with careful consideration and adept responsibility, we can reap the benefit of its strength in connecting us to other lands, to other minds.
Then we have hope.
In order for us to change and to grow. We must suffer. But the suffering can also be changed. Like a light switch, simply flick it the other way. Realise, that the uncertainty and discomfort, is an awakening. Clearing the dust of security, it catapults your capability, to your own deity.
It is not masochistic or sadistic to fall in love with the pain in your life. Relatively, it’s the omnipresent ogre that presses us each day with such an intensity that we sometimes feel we cannot go on.
To acknowledge that life is mainly pain, is the cloud and the storm. And the beauty, is the moment you witness the rainbow that rewards the efforts of your struggle.
Posted in December 2010
11 Comments
Language
Words are very meagre instruments of communication although we use them everyday of our lives. But how well do we truly understand what we vocalise? Language cannot be strictly confined to the dominion of the spoken word and can be manifested through bodily, emotional and musical forms. The latter have the power to supersede the inefficiencies that often arise in the transmission of thoughts through words.
We use our words with our voice. This is generated using the lungs, vocal cords within the larynx and the articulators. Our lungs must supply a stream of airflow and air pressure allowing the vocal cords to vibrate. The cords are valves which split the air into audible frequencies and the muscles within the larynx adjust the length and tension into pitch and tone. Then the articulators which include the tongue, palate, cheek and lips filter the vibrations into a diversity of sounds which can be modulated into emotional expression.
We are initiated into the world of the spoken word through mimicry of our immediate environment and the influence of our upbringing. Then we are engaged in a process of formal schooling where we are taught the basic rudiments of language through rules, conditions, verbs, adjectives, grammar and vocabulary. Simultaneously we are taught to commit this knowledge in written form with the pen and keyboard.
Each component must conform to an agreed standard and we are graded on our understanding of the system. This grading depends on how accurately we reproduce and understand it. Using these basic skills, we learn to organise the context of how the words are related through the prescribed rules of syntax. At a more advanced level, we are trained how to analyse and interpret the language in order to convey our thoughts, ideas and knowledge.
Even before we employ our formal instruction, another strain of language is introduced in our formative years – colloquial and slang speech. How we informally discourse can become so disjointed from the formal system that we almost play a different character depending on when each ‘hat’ is appropriate to wear.
But are we really expressing anything with these methods within the confines of a rigid structure?
Intonation, accent, volume, pitch and resonance inject colour and personality to speech. Accents usually betray the origin of a dialect and it can say volumes about your background without anyone knowing very much about you. There are even those who contrive a particular accent to deflect from their origins, revealing a great deal more of who you are.
However the reality is likely that an accent can become more of a stumbling block in the way of communication. How many times have we found what someone is trying to convey incomprehensible because of their accent? And how many times have we been misunderstood ourselves due to our dialect?
Let’s take into account the full scope of languages that exist and have existed in the world. It would be almost impossible or at least a gargantuan feat of human achievement to acquire all within ones’ lifetime considering how difficult it can be to master even one. This may not even include all known dialects.
Although English, Spanish and Chinese are among the most widely spoken on the planet, the vast discrepancies within each language between geographical regions may become incomprehensible to one another.
I spent five days in Munich a few years ago on my own performing at a fair during the Oktoberfest. I was staying with relations of friends, only one of them I had met briefly beforehand. I had no German and they had only a little English. Much of the time was spent communicating with expressive eyes and descriptive hand gesturing.
Sometimes I stood in complete ignorance to all the conversations around me which did not bother me in the slightest and I found a consoling sense of knowing myself among the unintelligible jabber. What I found so endearing about that experience was how honest and sincere the relating became. We had no words to work from, yet we understood each other perfectly. It took some effort initially to interpret the signals but we endeavoured regardless developing our own system.
The experience inspired me to learn sign language and I discovered that many of the signals are deduced directly from English and many are logical expressions relatively independent of the words themselves.
Only recently I was in the pub with a friend discussing the various elements of sign language. Much to her delight I agreed that even in sign language there innate differences between the Irish and British systems which my teacher had informed me during my classes. Many people had ridiculed her previously for stating this.
So is there a universal form of language where we can communicate without barriers?
If I sing in a different language with a sincere tone, even if the listener cannot comprehend the meaning of the words, it needs little translation. Even in the same language, the musician can adapt the meaning to their own experiences and portray this with effective honesty to the audience.
If we are being lied to, we know. Body language and subtle nuances in tone expose its intention and our intuition sniffs it out like a hungry dog prowling around a bin for scraps.
When you haven’t seen a good friend in many years, the lost time dissipates into the welcoming embrace on meeting.
We realise how close we are to someone, when we can sit in comfortable silence together and look on an unfolding scene ahead. Silent, comfortable, together.
When someone loves you, a single gaze can penetrate to your core and dictate a soliloquy of thoughts and feelings. In the same way, this can be expressed through touch. All the intention is there to be readily absorbed and it is very difficult to misinterpret it.
Is it then do we approach some state of telepathy? The ‘feeling’ we get when we know someone close to us is in trouble without even picking up the phone.
It would be a resounding leap of faith for the human race to acknowledge the ability to transmit information through thoughts and feelings without the use of the five classical senses which conventional science quite openly rejects.
And how would this type of ‘language’ sound? Or maybe, we haven’t grasped the perception of already possessing this faculty. This is indeed, food for thought.
Posted in November 2010
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The Undo Button
Computer systems, computational applications, administration mechanisms and entertainment devices – what do all of these things have in common? They are all synonymous – one of each of the same.
We could go into all the business, social and academic reasons or causes as to why this is, but that’s another days work and to be blunt, not of my concern at this time.
However, there is a perception that all these systems make our lives easier, more effective and streamlined. Or so they are marketed.
Ask anyone honestly about how they feel about the actual logistics of operating technology and you will discover a very conflicting attitude or rather quite a universal conclusion: when they work, they create heaven on earth, and when they don’t, you lose a lot more than just your time. You are then liable to venture compulsively to the off licence in search of a more guaranteed solution to you pain.
But, there are also some universal agreements about the evolution of programming in computers that no pen or paper can offer. There is one function that was developed maybe only as recent as twelve years ago as a conventional utility – the incorporation or ‘Advent’ of the undo button. In photoshop, the undo function is represented as the ‘history’ facility. This apparently inconsequential feature which now exists as a staple in most applications on any level that involves technology, has improved the lives of millions of people around the globe. Its ingenious simplicity has emancipated us from the inevitable plight of humanity – our ability to err.
We are free in the knowledge that even if we make a horrendous mistake that could cost us hours and a proverbial breakdown of monumental proportions – with a little swagger of the mouse and an understated tap of our index controller – our sanity and our work is saved the perils of a stream of unforgiveable curses and expressive disappointment at the ineffectiveness of our computers’ acknowledgment of their telepathic purpose in overriding our incompetent concentration.
We can remember (if we search hard enough, and for those who worked with computers previous to this massive leap in working systems) the first time we experienced or discovered this prized social function. And for all our sins, the next best thing is the ‘redo’ button – just in case we change our minds.
So many times I’ve heard numerous people including myself, testify their wishes for these functions to materialise to our current reality. “Imagine if we could undo things we’ve done or said! Wow. Wouldn’t that make life so much easier?”
In that case, even if we headed to the off licence after a shitty day – we could just undo the damage and be on our merry, but sober way.
So I say to myself: “Why can’t life be like that. Is there a way we can undo things”. And then you can clearly see; it’s not actually a question.
Édith Piaf once sang “No Regrets” – well it was a French song composed by Charles Dumont, but she made it famous. Why? Just like Bob Dylan’s scrounging, unforgiving phrasing, why does it appeal to us at all? Well, that would be conviction. The assertion, as one might manifest, the absolute arrogance of it all, to ultimately accept – Yourself. Accept and be at peace that at the time of your decision, you had a reason for doing it.
How are you going to find out who you are, if you can undo everything, edit anything out of your life, just because at the time of editing – you felt it was not quite what you wanted. How is that going to help you find what you want. Again, not a question.
Committing to your mistakes, is a commitment to growth. After that, comes forgiveness – which can only come from yourself, and only for yourself.
Life does not afford us the opportunity for perfection. Perfection is in the bravery of knowing when to complete, stop and move on. This, I have learned directly from performing.
Because there is no limit to learning – if we were to undo our mistakes – there would be no identification, no awareness of our growth.
The only way we can truly appreciate the undo function is to see it as recording our history of mistakes. That is why I prefer the photoshop function. It literally lists it out for you. You can scroll up and down your history and figure out which actions were the mistakes. Then you can decide how you will approach your next step, how to evolve your processes and amend your future actions on a given task.
In much the same way we could surmise the history or undo button as personal reflection. The penny will eventually drop as long as you are willing to think about the problem at hand and endeavour to work it out. It may take you longer than you would like, but there is nothing more rewarding than when you realise you’ve served your penance and resolved the issue (even if only for now). Not only does the solution offer clarity, but the experience has become so ingrained in your memory that it is unlikely you’ll ever have to toil on that one difficulty again – unless, you are really taking the piss.
That is, until the next obstacle presents itself. Then what you’ve been looking at all this time as a mistake; is really just a problem and one that just needs to be figured out.
If at that point, you’ve hit a brick wall – just enrol in a course with a teacher who will show you the basic shortcuts and foundations on how to apply to software or; phone a friend, and cry.
Posted in October 2010
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Relationships
‘State or instance of being related’
‘Connection or association’
‘Emotional association between two people’
These are three interpretations for ‘relationship’ offered by the Oxford dictionary in 1992…as this is the edition I possess. I’m always curious in assessing the official definition of words. As we come to understand them through their academic descriptions, they are later adapted to the context of the owner. In due course, the connotations of words and their popular associations can become drastically reconsidered. If I were to be honest, I’d agree with the definitions cited above and I’m certain that my conclusions are based substantially through experiencing them.
The word ‘relationship’, can trigger endless undertones as it constitutes an alternating connection between two individuals. When this liaison is shared by anyone external to the union, it evolves into a complex web, whose fluctuating fibres continuously extend and contract through experiences, feelings, thoughts and perceptions. This is what we refer to as a group. Families, a fundamental basis of all groups, are an innate lesson for interaction with others. The nature or rather ‘spirit’ of a group will largely depend on the ‘dynamic’ between each unique pairing.
Groups, narrowly or broadly speaking, can merge and dilate as dynamically as rapids rushing downstream. There are many barriers that can prevent enduring associations either between individuals or within a group, which leads me to my next statement. Honesty; when this prevails within a group, the subjective flavour of each pairing lends a kind hand to the ‘spirit dynamic’. Decisions will in time, either develop or erode these bonds. With this infectious attitude, a group can seemingly expand without frontiers, diluting any differentiation into transient lines. Does this suggest groups are limitless and is there gravity to this in the real world?
The greatly controversial figure, Margaret Thatcher, once said in an interview with Woman’s Own Magazine, which has been described as an epitaph for the eighties: “And, you know, there is no such thing as society. There are individual men and women, and there are families.” Regardless of the perception of this woman, this was a remarkably astute observation of human nature. In consideration of her statement, the terms national and global are quite suddenly rendered irrelevant. Thatchers’ representation of ‘society’ implies a frightening insight, yet a comforting knowing, that we do not need to chase the world for answers. Everything is quite literally, on our doorstep.
When I embarked on my ‘J-1’ travelling visa to the United States at the age of twenty in 2002, I had an ambition to travel at the end of the summer to various places around the country. However, my plans were thwarted by the lack of eager participants and I was then reluctant to travel on my own for fear of my safety.
Then a realisation drifted like a Dandelion seed into my hand – so delicate and so apparent. I did not need to travel the world to discover humanity in its various forms. I had already worked with an eclectic array of cultures in the country club where I had resided for three and a half months. Indonesians, Filipinos, Mexicans, Americans, Indians, Dominicans, Irish and English. I had spent a great deal of time emphatically interacting with each person. Clarity suddenly swept through my mind as I understood – the world, I had already encountered within the same building.
We know something about most cultures that exist and if we actually get the chance to directly experience them; well I guess that’s just a bonus. The extent of how much we traverse this earth is not what teaches us about humanity or society. It’s the sincere attention you offer, engaging with the people that you meet along the way, which counts.
To make a seemingly fleeting leap to my next point, I will discuss intimate relationships. The only way I wish to illustrate this by saying: “the grass is always greener on the other side”.
We seem to spend an enormous chunk of our lives committed to analysing romance and expecting a resolution for our efforts. I’ve observed, how our chosen partner is supposed to match a host of prescribed criteria so one can ‘tick the boxes’ or so to speak. If love was this straightforward, if we really had the answers, there would be a lot of musicians and artists out of work. So why are we frugal with our energy when considering how we truly feel about someone we share a deep connection with?
There could be a million people we may take as a lover. There could be a million people we can love. However, the actual permutation of our desires never results in the ‘ocean’ of possibilities that people present when they declare ‘plenty more fish in the sea’.
A relationship of intimacy reminds me of a ‘Google search’. If you input a vague definition of what you are require, there will be hundreds of thousands, if not millions of results. But until you know what you want, you cannot refine it. If you entered the exact key words that describe your needs, you may only obtain one page of results. But, it will produce the desired effect or at least, bring you very close to what you are really looking for.
Your options may be ‘kept open’ in a wider search, but is it worth overlooking your rightful desires?
The grass may indeed be greener; but it will always be too far away.
Posted in September 2010
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