Quiet musings… day#16 – The thrill of the chase

What I wish for: That feeling – the focused hunter in the thrill of the chase. Not for joy, but necessity, everything depending on the kill; survival at its purest. Most of us will die without ever knowing that feeling. It’s in us to feel it, I think. We are so disconnected with the earth, we should be more attuned to nature. It is evident in our daily pursuits that we are trying to find some deeper connection, some heightened state of belonging – through following hobbies or in our working lives. How wonderful the feeling would be to stand on the world, truly free, and feel its pulse through the soles of our feet as we revolve in harmony along with it.

What some people think: The objective is to get the job done, and they forget that sometimes the objective is really the act of doing it. Concentrate on the moment, instead of the eagerness of its passing.

JP Collins


Quiet musings… day#15 – Painting carpet and wild men

What I do when painting the skirting board: Paint the carpet. The previous owners did the same and so my paint covers really well.

What oil-based paint does not do: Come out of twice-painted carpet. It will stay there forever, a prickly testament to humour our soft-soled feet.

What I wonder when I’m painting: Who are the people who work behind the scenes in documentaries, going ahead of the likes of Bruce Parry to introduce their alien equipment and western ideas to baffled, wary tribesmen? What a job that must be… Even complex language cannot save you here, they must use something even more natural, almost primitive; palaeolithic: instinctual.

What men would do if they were wild: Make water atop the hills as the distant sun rises over the crest of the world and drink in its beauty like it was the last gulp they’d every take. How many days of a modern man’s life are spent staring at a wall, what a waste; they could put a decent picture up at least.

JP Collins

Quiet musings… day#14 – Lifespans and tastebuds

What the vacuum cleaner does: Blow its fan air high into the corners of the room, thus confusing the tiny house spiders into thinking they have caught a tasty morsel in their shaking webs.

What I ponder about – apropos lifespans: We consider a small being such as a nat to have such a small and insignificant life, but to the nat, its life may seem as long and as full as a human feels his life to be. If this is so, then the interpretation of time must vary considerably between beings. So I ask, what is the true worth of time if it is so brief and yet so vast all at once? How insignificant and small must we seem to the great elm or oak, and how brief Earth must seem as it passes in and out of existence in the blink of the universe’s eye.

What my mum did when she was young: Go to the doctor’s reporting that she had lumps all over her tongue.

What the doctor said they were: Tastebuds.

What I do every time I think about her telling this: Smile. There is nothing more humourous than life itself.

JP Collins

Quiet musings… day #13 – Butler dogs, and being common.

How I feel sometimes: Too common, inadequate, almost. The words that come out of my mouth sound different to the ones spoken in my head, and I find myself preferring to listen than speak. If I do speak, I tighten my tongue and lose all of my character; I lose the things my wife fell in love with. Damn confidence. Trust in yourself, and have more confidence in your convictions.

What happened when I got through to an answer phone: The voice said the butler was away and was unable to take the call.

What I know: The “butler” is a dog, and the woman has ideas above her station.

JP Collins

Quiet musings… day #12 – Granddad, syntax, and fish

What my Nan said she saw before my granddad died: My Uncle’s ghost standing in the doorway while she ironed clothes. She said “you can’t take him yet, take him next week”; he died exactly a week later.

What that was: Thought evoking, and chilling.

What I had when I was younger: A strong belief in the paranormal, but this faded with age. The magic of life seemed to dissipate somewhere, almost dissolving into thin air and leaving the ugly, hard face of truth to glare at me mockingly. What is possible and impossible now seems so well-defined, and yet we are still standing in the darkness. We’ve no idea why we’re here, really, do we? Now, where did I put my bubble?

What I think we are: Far enough into the New Year now for it to be weird when people wish us a happy one.

What I love: The beauty of language. Language is a wonderful thing. It allows us to speculate about an infinite number of ideas and theories, and it allows us to express ourselves in the most wonderful way. When our awkward bodies may give our motives away, or not portray the true intent of our presence as we desire them to, it is language that can save us. I remember hearing the game show host on Slumdog Millionnaire saying ‘computer-ji lock kiya-jaye’ in Hindi (which translates to something along the lines of “computer (respectful), lock in the answer”) and thinking how beautifully it rolled off the tongue. I spent many weeks fumbling the phrase around my mouth, as some sort of catchphrase or tag line that people adopt every once in a while. I wonder what person thought such words up and arranged them in such a melodious fashion? Words seem to flower when they are spoken, in mind or out loud.

Why I read and write: Aside from the burning thirst for knowledge and understanding and feeling of control, I love how words can take you, wholly, in such a blissful and complete moment. The syntax a lavish musical score – the symphony of the written word, gracefully moving up and down the great stave upon the paper; sweeping, flying – bird-like, modal – Lydian, and at the other end of the spectrum – crushing and dissonant like some Locrian death march, or that itch on the bottom of your foot that you just can’t quite satisfy, but all equally emotive and encompassing nonetheless. In terms of interests and personal fulfillment, it is the very reason to take another breath, and above all, it is in the hope that my words will be spoken, in someone’s mind or aloud.

What Busted say: I’ve been to the year three thousand, not much has changed but they live under water, and your great great great grand-daughter, is pretty fine.

What I think: Your great great great grand-daughter would not be “fine”, she’d be a fish.

JP Collins

Quiet musings… day#10 (The sword’s edge)

What I’m thinking: This was 2013 – the year when everybody kept calm and carried on; although, more likely, the year we bought mugs and mouse mats and T-shirts with that, and every variation of it, on just so we can stare at it all day and tell ourselves “everything is going to be OK”; when just under our skins we were fretting about rocketing energy prices and how we are going to afford to heat our homes this winter; and about the Government re-allocating tax so richer folk could pay less by being conned into buying brand-spanking-new “zero-tax, green vehicles” and the rest of us pay more to cover the deficit – the roads still haven’t been repaired. Is this the year we finally found balance? No, I say not; but the Government appears to think so.

Nevertheless, we are in the thick of an astronomic technical evolution that is snowballing toward the complete perfection of convenience; this is not something to turn your nose up at. The majority of the human race will not succumb to laziness as we near this goal, but will find their minds burning with an even fiercer hunger for knowledge and mental expansion. This is a wonderful time to be alive – and with the help of the Internet, you can feel like you have been here since day dot; on the other hand, of course, you may feel your life can be defined simply by a bleak set of coding, a string of meaningless ones and zeros, in which case, you must take a walk and re-discover the beauty of the natural world; you must remember that you are made of matter, as is the earth and everything on it; synergy is important – take a bath, as Archimedes did, and you will find your inspiration, your zest for living, once again. It is our nature to find solace amongst the turmoil, so try to go with the flow. Life on earth is chaotic – carefull yet daring, stable yet unbalanced, terrific yet comforting all at once – this is indeed a wonderful time to be alive. We are all dancing along the sword’s edge, and it seems the joy of life is not knowing which way we will fall.

My confession: I still don’t know what the difference is between those two flush buttons on the top of my toilet.

What My wife and I do in the evening: Make each other laugh so hard we can’t breathe, and when we have finished and composed ourselves we begin to laugh again and forget what started us off in the first place. I wish we could do this everyday.