I worry for the quiet ones.

The way I see it, we’re not getting anywhere close to where we need to be. Wound up in the worldly items we’re somehow taught to care about, we slowly slip away from the place of being connected.

I am just as guilty of this as anyone else. But the constructs within which we seem to operate our societies is such that, unless you buy in to the dream someone else says is meaningful, you’re fobbed off as being different, strange, lacking meaning, or worse. What meaning is there to be found in a bunch of numbers you’ve got allocated to your name in a bank account that’s actually owned by a corporation who views you as a number, but promises you extra special service when they address you by your initials?

It’s done for the sake of convenience. That whole live-faster-die-faster-get-things-done-dont-let-it-get-to-you-you-are-very-stressed-accumulate-whatever-you-can-this-is-a-race-catch-up lifestyle is so, well, whether we like it or not… it is the lifestyle we are born into.

It seems almost romantic to give it up and go live in a teepee in the forest, but it’s also impractical. I love the idea of doing that, but if I did it… how would I educate my kid? I’m a crap hunter-gatherer, so how would I feed my family? How would I afford medical care when we needed it? (because, we will, at some point, even if I live in denial of this idea). Of course, there are people who have done this, and done it well… but the ones we hear about have, most often, done it whilst remaining connected to something we all care more about than we should (me included): The Internet.

The Internet is the most enabling tool humans have ever discovered and created. The irony is, of course, that humans that – very often – use the very same Internet to disable others.

Now, I’m not saying it’s all bad (it’s not – every aspect of my life is proof of this – every.single.one) but the problem with creating such an enabling platform, is that it enables both great and awful. Where there to be Elders of the Internet or some sort of Grand Council presiding over it, it would immediately eliminate the empowering force it can be. It’d become dictatorial, where one opinion counts more than the other, or power could be swayed to suit a certain viewpoint. Heck, there are global rumblings already of that being set down.

The thing is – it’s already happening online already. Very often, the ugly opinions get more eyeballs and the quiet, gentle sharings of life and humanity are shouted down. It becomes almost scary to open up a new tab and discover something new, because, by now, someone else has had their chew on it and you’re probably reading some sort of spittle-defiled and skewed version of it.

It’s an element of humanity, I suppose, where the louder voices are heard first, and the quieter ones need to wait for the swell of their own songs to bind together and become louder.

I worry for the quiet voices, nowadays, especially, as the blazing fastfire of the online world rampages more quickly and loudly than ever before…I worry for the quiet ones. The less we listen to the quiet ones, and the more we listen to the boisterously opinionated and typically loud, the less we’ll hear the nuances of our own humanity and hear even less our own inner voice that says…

This is not a competition. You were not put on this earth to beat and defeat each other. If you want to compete, do it against yourself and nobody else. We’re all born into the world in the same way – naked and pissed off. Do your best to get past that and then do something with your life that keeps you grounded, makes you happy and – if possible – makes a sensible contribution to the planet we’re all stuck on together anyway. 


There Are Seasons…And Then Some.

I’ve been an awful blogger, I know. I’ve actually been an all round awful a lot of things but I’m not logging this post to beat myself up or make you sit through yet another boring self-directed tirade over something  that won’t matter in ten years’ time. So, sorry. Here I am, and I have a clanger.

My kid. Well, I’m battling to call her a kid nowadays. She’s nearly as tall as I am, she vets my online writing, wavering between being excited for me to relate a story she is part of and… banning me from ever mentioning her, at all. Like ever. So my relating part…the thing you got to know me with? That’s a bit quieter now. There are fewer fine details I’m putting out there online and, really, that’s not a bad thing. Heck, I wrote about how that would happen in 2011, it was already happening then, it’s much sharper now. But, actually,  if you follow me on Twitter, you probably know more about what goes through my head 24/7 than anyone else ever will. Again, sorry. Man I love that space.

Okay, okay, back to my point. Between racing from deadline to deadline, I’m mentally writing something that’s been sitting in my head since about a month ago. I’ve noticed an interesting parallel that I’d like to explore. It is the seasons.

This sprang from another day of sitting at my computer, and watching my daughter do her homework, while the dog bounces around between our legs and I try so hard to hold on to the moment, because really, there’s nothing else to life. Pretty soon she won’t want or need me to help her figure out 47 x 3 and, mentally this is playing in my head all day, every day. 

So, mix in a large ladleful of internal beating-self-up because I missed an important school event  (but made it to the other one…) and I have to seriously forgive myself.

But, back to my point and parallel:


When a baby is born, all pink and cute…they’re like Spring. As they grow and their little life flowers bloom, stretching up to the sun, that’s when their world is all colour and growth.


Then kids hit Summer and they start becoming themselves. They learn the bright colours that suit them best, and they grasp what they shine at. This, I’d reckon is much like the school days, that are filled with exploration and friendships, fun times and sweltering under the humidity of acing exams.


And just as the leaves start to crunch beneath our feet, and we dig out our favourite cardigan, Autumn hits. This is when children become adults, as they begin to look more internally for their meaning – heck, that question of “what do I want to be when I grow up?” plagued us all in our early 20s. But just as Autumn sees us heading indoors for warm soup and toast, it’s also the time when we build and reinforce ourselves, our homes, for winter. We celebrate by throwing those crunchy leaves into the air and laughing. We rush inside before the rains get too mad, stopping for a little to jump in a puddle.


Yet, there is Winter. The time when we are cuddled up and contemplative. Having built the foundations for our life, we take our time with it. We amble along for afternoon walks and take pleasure in our tea breaks. We’re busy keeping warm and enjoying my favourite life treat – the tingle of winter sunshine my hometown is so known and loved for.

Right now, my daughter is in her Summer. She is all colour and growth, excitement and warm evenings under a twinkling sky. I feel like Summer came too quickly but, all she’s ever wanted to do is grow up, so I had to let it happen (I am, of course, fooling. Parents don’t get any choice over growing up – trust me, we know this).

While I may feel like the time is slipping by, and the seasons come too quickly at us, just as Spring seems to have zoomed the heck on by… I love this season. The parts where I catch the early morning sunshine of her telling me about her dream over cereal and the long evenings where she asks 85 million questions. And while I may not catch every sunrise, every time she smiles (I wish I could), I know her summer sun rises, every day.

And that’s why. Right there. I’m finished beating myself up today.

Something. And then something.

So, something happened where I had to choose between the two parts of my heart. This happens often enough, but it never gets any easier.

It made me sad. For a bit.

Then, last night, something snapped in my head. And like a big, bright sunshine, I looked around me. In front of me, was my kid dancing around the lounge and laughing about how the man in a video looked exactly like her dad about ten years ago.

I was lying on the couch and waiting for bedtime. Waiting because I’d not slept the night before. And then I remembered that I have this great honour, every night. Every night, I get to read a little story to my kid, kiss her face all over, and watch as she rolls over and kicks over into dreamland. Some nights, I even get to watch her sleep. And I do it. How blessed am I?

How lucky I am to have a strong, resilient child, who feels secure in the love that surrounds her.

I walked around the house and looked at the little life we’ve built together. The knicknacks that populate the surfaces, the photographs we treasure. The wall of art, of expression down the entranceway. All the little things that make up our home.

And I remembered, we did this. Just the two of us. Created a life for ourselves and live it, every single day. I’ve got that special treasure of being able to make a life, and live it, and love it, just for us.

There are people in the world who would give up everything for that very opportunity.

Pikachu. I choose you.

So, whilst I had to make a decision and turn down an opportunity, and choose between a heartwant and a heartlove, I’m glad I chose the heartlove. I’m glad I always choose that heartlove. That place and space where my heart comes home. It was an instantaneous decision, and I’ll make it every single day I live. Happily.

I always, always, choose my heartlove. Lucky, lucky me.