The Paperboy

It’s a very long time since I stood on the decks of the Royal Yacht Brittania—50 years to be precise! I’m standing here now, because we’ve taken a few days break in Edinburgh and this is where she now lies as a major visitor-attraction in Leith, Scotland. Back in 1963-4, the 14 year old paperboy that I was then, lived in Stamshaw, Portsmouth and when—in between her many World Tours and State Visits—she was in her Portsmouth Dockyard berth just off Whale Island, close to our house, I would cycle off each morning from the Newsagents to sell papers and magazines to the crew. Not many people know this!

It’s a very strange feeling to be back on board. I’m excited and a little bit perturbed and disorientated as I try to find the exact spot where I stood on those icy-cold early mornings before going off bleary-eyed to school. Unlike this visit, where I am free to go absolutely anywhere I like—even (shock-horror) to see the Queen’s bedroom—I never actually got to be any place on board in those days, except to ‘man’ a small undercover bit towards the stern, having left my bike on the quayside and lugged my massively heavy papers and equally huge cash bag up the gangway with me. And of course sadly, I never met the Queen.

As we walk up and down, deck-by-deck with all the other enthralled multi-national visitors looking at the memorabilia, artifacts, fabulous collections and history of the ship and her esteemed Royal Family, who travelled over a million miles in her across far flung seas, enjoying their privacy and also entertaining many famous dignitaries and wealthy guests for over 60 years—I’m not sure what or how I’m feeling. Such a long time has gone by so quickly and so many things have happened in my life—was this really a part of it? Did it shape or influence who I am or what I went on to do?

'Amongst his wares, the paperboy had been given several men’s magazines to sell, and he remembers with quite a lot of embarrassment, the sailors laughing about the ‘tame’ nature of what was on show. They tried to make him blush by showing pictures they had of eye-popping and seemingly impossible things.'

I did blush…. and I’m still blushing now!

'Also, he remembers after one of these trips, cycling back to the shop with his much lighter newspapers and magazines bag and very much heavier cash bag. Approaching the bridge, he had to slow down and come to a wobbly stop because of traffic lights. He waited for them to change and scooted along to get back on his bike again. Cocking his leg confidently over the saddle—yes, you’ve guessed it—he proceeded to empty all over the road the complete contents of his cash bag as it tipped off his shoulder.'

I couldn’t believe it!! Traffic came to a standstill as I scrabbled around trying to pick up the money and several people came to help—at least I think they were helping.

Anyway, funny memories….. and I’m wondering if embarrassment is etched deep in my soul, and whatever else there might be there from the past. 

Recollecting and reflecting on the past. 

Ah well, the past….. the past….. all is past, except for now, remembering. Nothing profound, nothing important—not now anyway. Remembering and letting go of the past.

Lost and Found

I’ve come here on my bike to the natural burial ground to sit with my daughter Annabel in the woods for a while. It’s almost 9 years to the day she died and my wife and I return here all the time, usually together. Today on this bright September Sunday morning I’m alone. Well….. I am for a little while, until in the distance I hear the tap-tap-tap of a walking stick and the chat-chat-chat of approaching voices—an elderly man and woman slow-stepping the narrow path. I shut my eyes in a slight involuntary grimace and inwardly groan, hoping they will pass by. He notices my bike in the bushes. I think I’m unseen to their left, and they do pass by—but only going on for a few yards—where they stop, and, as if rehearsing for a play, they continue their ad-libbed echoing vocals. Mostly it drifts by, over and beyond me, but I have to say it’s hard to ignore. “I didn’t shave this morning”, “Will I break the camera?” he jokes. “I see no ships!”..... “only hardships” he quips again. After a while, someone they know joins them. They say hello, ask how she is and talk to her about her loss. For a few brief moments there is respite, and the levity subsides. This awareness gradually drifts from mind and I relax a little, thankfully noticing as the volume fades that they are walking away.

 

Settling into stillness—it’s as if the channels have changed—and here, sitting on the wooden bench which has been placed by someone in memory of another person, I hear and see clearly again. The way it is—the pigeon calling; the bee buzzing; the cool breeze; rustling leaves and wisps of grass; dappled light bathing the summer scene in golden splendour; the butterfly pausing; the body and mind resting—all is flowing, changing—I breathe again. Of course, this is the way it was all along, but the mind is very partial to words and people, so for a time I was caught up and unaware of all this and probably much more.

Then (would you believe it!?) voices are approaching from the right and behind me. It’s very busy here this morning in this wide wild expanse, with acres of woodland, and within this space, all these people have decided to come close to me. They don’t have to be near me, do they? Well…. they just are, because like me, they have come to be with lost loved-ones. Seems like a family this time—a man, woman, child, an older woman. The man makes jokes like the other man did—often in poor taste—and he adds frequent chuckles. I tell myself he’s uneasy because of the situation. I wonder if they can see me and I’m pretty sure they can—they are very close by. I hope I don’t put them off….. and then I notice a strange sense of disappointment when they carry on chatting away as if I’m not there at all! Am I really here?! I think to myself.

Eventually, these people too go on their way, hardly breaking-step in their discourse—and with another sigh of relief, nature returns. It never went away.

 

In peace again, leaving the bench, I wander a few soft steps to Annabel’s place, passing and greeting the little metallic grey Buddha that someone has carefully chosen to watch over another. As I always do, squatting down on my heels to be close to earth, I put my hands flat on the green-cool moss and feel the cushioned impression being formed by my gentle warming touch. There is a sea of wild strawberry leaves here and a grand display in miniature of the living countryside. A little vole scurries in my direction, catches sight of me—or senses my presence in some way—has second thoughts and quickly runs back the way he came! We are never alone; there are always others present.

The fact is, we often put our lost loved ones in a special place, either physically or in mind, I guess to help us to remember—to commemorate and celebrate their having existed. ‘Thank you for being in my life’. Of course no-one wants to lose anyone, so if they’re in a special place, they’re not really lost—we can easily go there and find them. Then we can become aware that others naturally do the same—it hasn’t just happened to us—death and loss are natural and inevitable facts of life. I say ‘can become aware’, because recognising, accepting and being at one with this is hard and we want to deny and fight against it for all we're worth. We are very clever at turning away from and avoiding facing the truth—the mind wants to possess and hang on to things any way it can (space and people) and to have everything just so and in control. “Go away, this is my place—special to me!” “Don’t you know how important this time is?!” I smile to myself about this thought-realisation—this indignation and frustration that I feel at having to share my space and time with others—and I give this smile to Annabel. She had and still has a lovely sweet smile. A smile that lives in my heart—which it’s true is another special place—but it’s not an escape from reality. I know that. And I won’t ever lose her smile and I don’t have far to go to find it—and the sadness or happiness or whatever it is that’s there in that moment as well. 

Letting go of anniversaries—there are none solely belonging to me—there is only now, which is there for all of us, and all is changing and unfolding just as it will.

So now I go steadily in awareness on my way with my bike, sharing the air we breathe and the ground we touch.
 

[I wrote a little book for Annabel, and anyone who has lost a loved one ~ 'Bella's Way']

Mindfully non-Pitching

Yesterday was a day of Mindfulness like no other I can remember—7 hours standing and sitting in a street promoting our group’s monthly meeting for everyday mindfulness. At my town’s Summer Festival, I am surrounded by people setting up their gazebo’s and selling their wares—baskets, beers, hats, t-shirts, a jobs around the home network, a bouncy castle and face-painting for kids, exotic foods, garlic…. and that’s just what I can see from my pitch—there is much more beyond; an explosion of delights and intrigue for the senses. The smells and sounds grow, the weather is kind and people are coming. I feel excited, exposed, and yes….. a bit embarrassed. There’s no way this is going to go well!

Waiting…… being still…… waiting…… being still…… waiting…… there are lots of people here, and as the day warms up, steadily, more and more wander by.  In my allocated spot on the shady side of the street, I have a table, a couple of chairs and I have some laminated sheets with big coloured letters—strung out like bunting—flapping like flags in the breeze. ‘N O W’ the one in front says, and on the table-top there are the words, ‘Noticing, Observing, Witnessing’, and ‘Patient, Open-Minded, Trusting, Non-Striving, Accepting, Letting Go, Non Judging’—the seven pillars of Mindfulness—plus a small leaflet to give to people or let them take, which explains about the group. Not exactly a classy get-up, but a presence of sorts anyway.

The friendly (and they are friendly) stall-holders around me start trading straight away and they use all the ancient tools and techniques of selling. They are jolly, chatty, smiley, they walk up to people, they make a lot of eye and body-contact, they call out, they make jokes and bustle around—and money flows. In the past, I’ve done my fair share of pitching, but not today. Today I’m just (non)doing; being what it says on the Mindful tin—as best I can—and noticing. Noticing the families, babies, children, friends, lovers, infirmity, beauty, athleticism, shy, bold, loud….. train of colourful people drifting by, back and forth—all diversity of life is here—including a lot of other amazing animals of the ‘pet’ variety too! I am dazzled by it all and now, just about beginning to relax and enjoy the festivities.

Mostly, people go by looking quizzically and with polite curiosity at the N O W and me. If I see more than a passing flicker of interest, I move in a little bit towards them asking ‘Hi, are you local?’ Not in a predatory way I hope—more like a horse-whisperer than a salesman! It surprises me to learn how many people already know about our group and Mindfulness, and say they haven’t gotten round to doing anything about it, but that they really should. So it’s a chance for me to describe a bit about what we do and don’t do and for them to see and meet the one who ‘guides’ the group (not just meeting me, because thankfully, there is another group member with me at the stand some of the time and that’s really helpful for them to see her friendly presence and talk to her too).

And the stories, the heart-rending stories; ‘I’ve left my wife and kids—it was for the best’; ‘If we don’t get more mindful soon we’ll get dragged into another war’; ‘I’ve been depressed, my doctor says mindfulness would help’; ‘It’s hard being a single parent and having the responsibility for everything’. They don’t ask much about, ‘What do you do in the group?’—they hungrily want to express and share their special stories of lived-lives. One person I meet tells me she has recently lost her husband—she is in tears right away, and full of apology. I am there. I listen. I’m present with her—and all my own stuff too.

So many people associating Mindfulness with therapy and getting ‘fixed’. I gently tell them we don’t do therapy, we turn towards and reflect on the ‘What Is’ of life and we learn to accept and let go. And it’s not all about the practice either, which many of them say they do or have lapsed from. It’s not what they expect and probably disappoints them, but somehow they seem comforted and reassured and want carefully to check the details of coming to the group’s next meeting.  I wonder how many of these people will join us—could be standing-room only next time! It doesn’t matter.

This has been a humbling experience and reminder for me. So many people want to have Mindfulness in their life and still there is much misunderstanding and suffering which we add to with the mind. I wonder about the difference between our stall and cause, which doesn’t ask for money and the other stall-holders who do. I guess regardless of whether money, goods and services exchanges hands, everyone is a potential customer for all of the stall-holders, and we’re all potential customers for each other. At the start of the day, I felt like I was the sore thumb in this collection of humanity, but now I see there is no difference between us—it’s about survival—we all need each other. Wouldn’t it be good though if there were a few more Mindful stall-holders out there, sharing what we know about the mind—not pitching—just being there in everyday life?

The Display Team

As a part of a display team, I have been helping to set up our annual arts and crafts summer exhibition, with over 600 exhibits on show this year – paintings, sculptures, and many varieties of ceramic and craft work. There is no selection process, so everyone can put in more or less whatever they like. One entry was a huge Wallace and Gromit-type sheep made out of cardboard tubes for legs, plastic bottles for a head and a white plastic sheet wrapped around soft material for a body.  One senior member of my team, nearly tried to remove the plastic sheet because she thought it was a wrapper when in fact it was actually meant to be the main part of the sheep’s body! I alerted her to this fact and just managed to prevent the inadvertent destruction of the piece in the nick of time. That was a funny moment.  Other works were literally more weighty, including a 25Kg horse’s head made of Portland stone which I and another guy helped to lift and it nearly did my back in, some amazing paintings and pots and ceramic sculptures of all kinds.

Our job was to decide where each piece of pottery, ceramic work and sculpture was to be displayed and in what manner. Not an easy task, and I don’t think I contributed very much, partly because every time I suggested something could go here or there it was kind of ignored, as my other team colleagues seemed to know exactly where things should go! So I had plenty of things to notice going on with the mind, including thoughts such as, ‘What’s the point!?’ ‘This is a bit of a waste of time’, ‘I’m only here as the token bloke to do some lifting now and again’, ‘I don’t really fit in – they are all in the same branch of the society and I’m not’, ‘Why was I volunteered for this?’…. and so on. All thoughts that were a bit negative and down on myself.

There didn’t seem to be much by way of collaboration – things just seemed to end up where they were meant to be and I got a bit bored.  I found myself playing with the idea that each piece could be displayed completely differently, almost randomly, and that would be just as OK too.  In my mind I indulged my obsessive eye and mentally nudged pieces an inch here and an inch there just for fun. Then I even started doing that humourously for real, and actually, it was OK with the others – they didn’t frown on me anyway.

Then to break up this reverie, a man from the press came and asked us if we would pose for a few shots as if we were discussing various pieces of work. I immediately went to grab my sculpture which had been lying on a table behind us waiting for placement in the hall. I always seem to make stuff which doesn’t quite fit the bill. In this case, a sculpture which I made to hang from a wall, instead of free-standing on a plinth. Consequently, as usual, no-one quite knew what to do with it.  So anyway, the photographer loved it and was so impressed he wanted me to stand in front holding the piece to camera with the others gathered around me. I was really embarrassed and kind of pleased at the same time, and he kept asking me questions about the work which only made matters worse, because then I enthusiastically told him some of the story of the piece and described its construction which just fascinated him more…. “It’s made of a welder’s mask found on a beach and given to me by a friend, a uniselector telephone relay switch from 1940, the same as those used at Bletchley Park in the first computers for code breaking; also given by a friend, a glass reflector in a box I bought from an antiques fair, with a mirror behind - I use mirrors a lot in my work….. and it’s called ‘LOS (letting go)’, LOS standing for loss of signal, which is a computing term…..‘  Talk about self-promotion! I went from a hang-back slightly on- the-edge person to centre-stage in an instant. I could see this happening and I wondered at the same time what was going through my colleagues minds and it all happened so quickly.  I also noticed that what the photographer was writing in his notebook bore little or no resemblance to what I was saying.  Ah well, at least the photo would be an accurate rendition wouldn’t it?

On reflection, through each person’s art work, I guess we are all there to promote and display the Self. What you notice is how different all these Selves are and underneath it all there may be the common purpose of ‘Look at me!?’  The whole point of the exhibition is for people to exhibit their work for all sorts of reasons I guess, sometimes monetary, but mostly I imagine because they want to be seen and appreciated for something they have made - we even get awards and presentations for doing this. (PS I got a ‘Highly Commended’ but who cares? What does it matter? Well… I guess I do a little bit!)

I can say for myself, that I produce what I make because of a creative urge to express my feelings and convey ideas about Mindfulness, but that’s not exactly letting go of Self is it? In fact, the truth is, I become so attached to the works I make, that I find it hard to let go of them at all. Fortunately, no-one so far has said they want to buy any of them anyway, and in any case the ‘LOS (letting go)’ piece is definitely ‘NFS’! The work has deeply personal meaning for me and I think I will never be able to let it go even though the title would suggest I am letting go of stuff inside and around it. The object of the mind remains firmly attached to the objects themselves as assembled.  - There’s attachment for you - Maybe one day I’ll let go of it all.

Working with a group of people I didn’t or don’t really know? It’s a strange experience because there are some folks I don’t see at any other time of the year, and it’s as if we never really get beyond the awkward start-up phase of conversation. Does it matter that I don’t really know them or that I may never really know anyone properly including myself? It feels as though it does, but I suppose what really matters is that we connect in some way. Whereas before, I felt a huge distance and sense of being an outsider, (a feeling I often experience), in this moment, as I write this, I feel a great surge of gratitude and closeness towards others. Maybe we’re not as different and distant as my mind would have me think.

[For those of you who might be around to see the exhibition, it's open until next Tuesday -  http://petersfieldartsandcrafts.org.uk/]

Weeds are a wonderful pause for Mindfulness

For the last three years we have let the weeds, heathers and grasses grow on the front garden and this has caused great consternation and controversy for neighbours and passers by - it’s a pretty busy road. There are those who judge us and don’t like it and say in not so many words, we’ve let the garden go and are basically too lazy to keep it tidy, and there are those who judge us differently, saying it’s great and they really enjoy the spectacle.

I have to admit, it was my wife’s idea to let the garden become a wild flower meadow, and I felt a bit uneasy about it, because I didn’t want to draw attention to (myself) and was concerned - as ever - about what other people would say (and think!) Now I find I like it so much that I feel a sense of ownership of it - all weird I know.

Anyway, this year we reached the point when things were going-over in the garden, and we were about to do our usual cut-back to some kind of lawn, when we discovered we had several bees nests on the ground. We had to be very careful not to disturb them, so ended up using shears and cutting around them - people must have thought we’d gone bonkers!

For me, the realisation that there is all this beautiful nature going on naturally, as we allow it to be - we even have a regular visit from a woodpecker now, who seems to appreciate the wildlife that springs up - and there is all this stuff I and many others add to it with our minds, is another reminder of how Mindfulness (when we’re Mindful) can be right there in front of us in everyday life. When I’m Mindful, I think that’s as wonderful as nature, and so it should be if we recognise we and it are all one thing - then there’s no judging, no worrying and no ownership...... to mention but a few.

So yes, let's appreciate the beauty of nature!

Hello Self!

Just returned from a beautiful wedding in Devon - my Godson, lots of friends and family—it was truly a joyful occasion. And you know the weather was so hot..... One lunchtime in town we bought bottles of water. So with one of the bottles, just fooling around, I said how hard the cap was to get off, and then after a while I had the gradual sinking realisation that actually—no matter how hard I tried—the cap wasn’t coming off at all! 

So I leaned the bottle on a wall outside a pub, and sawing slowly and gently away at the plastic with a pen-knife, twisting harder and harder and doing a lot of looking and breathing—it still would not budge. But I was being Mindful and not forcing anything at all and really taking my time and quite enjoying the moments. 

Suddenly, a disembodied hand appeared from under a screen on the wall and a voice said, “Do you want a hand with that mate?! (He must have been watching this little scene all along through the gap) So I gave the unseen person the bottle and quick as a flash he had the top off in no time and handed it back to me. It was so funny. It was hilarious. I said thanks and peeking round the corner of the screen saw him return to his group sitting around a table. I swear there was something wrong with the manufacture of the cap on that particular bottle—I didn’t want anyone to think I wasn’t strong enough to open a water bottle! Hello Self!! There you are again.....

Mindful Car Parking

So Legoland on the hottest day of the year was my daughter’s idea of a fun day out just for me and my granddaughter—with millions of other people there who had the free entry tokens, coach-loads of them! 

And it was fun and we did enjoy ourselves, until at the end of the day, I realized the fatal mistake of not having made a note of where we had parked the car. Not very Mindful. So I was able to be Mindful then, noticing all my catastrophising thoughts and seeing the reactions of Romily who variously in the space of seconds, went from very upbeat and positive to tear-shuddering cries of despair that we would never find the car and we’d have to walk home (60 miles). 

Slowly and Mindfully we reconstructed our memory of arriving and bit by bit together we found the little Smart car and boy was I glad! Needless to say I now have an app for finding your car in a car park—so all I have to do is be Mindful enough to remember to use it!

British Grand Prix

Silverstone, British Grand Prix last week - and I was there! It was a joyous and really memorable occasion for me and my brother on a boys day out. The senses came alive to the roar and scream of the engines, the masses of excited people and the glaring heat. We had a terrific grandstand view and there was so much going on it was dizzying to take it all in. 

And what caught my attention - in a way - had nothing to do with the race. It was a young man in a wheelchair at the front of the stand. Dressed in white vest and shorts, his left arm was missing from the shoulder, his right lower leg was missing below the knee and he was covered in scars. He must have been no more than 20, had a perfect face; untouched by violence, close-cropped hair, and the brightest smile - the brightest smile you could ever wish for - the untroubled smile of a young man really enjoying himself. He was completely relaxed, wheeling back and forth to chat to his friends having fun and crossing his legs to stretch out on the barrier - absolutely no sense of shame, embarrassment, awkwardness, insecurity or anything, just really together within himself and almost balletic in his poise. 

I told myself he must be a soldier - one of many injured in this way. The thing is, he was getting on with his life and he was fully appreciating every moment of it. I was moved to tears hidden and enveloped by the crowd. I will never forget him and I am so grateful to have witnessed this passing moment.

Bee Fly

Have you ever seen a ‘Bee Fly’? Not a joke - it’s a fly masquerading as a bee. I had no idea they existed until I saw a TV programme recently. They look a bit like a bumble bee, but they only have two wings which they beat 100 times a second! (How’s that for life’s unfolding and changing moments - moment to moment?)The other distinctive feature is their long proboscis which looks a bit fearsome as though it might give you a sting, but in fact they just use it to feed on the pollen and nectar from flowers.  

I look for them now in the garden and have seen quite a few up-close buzzing away - they are beautiful! Reminds me that there are many more things in life I haven’t yet noticed. Am I really seeing? I have to be careful not to get carried away with what my mind tells me about these things and just see and directly experience them as they are,

as each moment unfolds.

Funny Mind

Maybe it’s a ‘man thing’ but I’ve noticed that I have a tendency to leave things - you know to put things off. So for instance I’ll be making a sandwich and instead of putting stuff away afterwards I’ll kind of say to myself I’ll do it later – same with putting away clothes, tools I might be working with or anything really. It has been really useful to notice this Mindfully because now I’m more likely to take my time calmly putting things away - no need to put things off. 

My mind tells me often that there are more important things to do than what I’m doing in that moment, or it will notice something and then say…. not yet. So now I listen differently, smile to myself and usually just get on with the whole thing rather than what my mind tells me. It’s not become a rule to follow, more an added awareness to notice. Seems to be a sense of wholeness there more of the time now. 

Anyone else have a funny mind too!?

Getting Caught Out by Mindlessness Again

The other day I was coming home from town and approaching a pedestrian crossing. As I pressed the button at the crossing, I noticed a couple of cyclists sitting astride their bikes right next to me, one looking at his phone. I was intently focused on waiting for the lights to change, when the guy with phone said to me, “Excuse me can you help?” and I said, “Yes, sure”. The next thing I knew, the lights changed and I found myself saying, “Sorry, got to cross now!” I saw his surprise and disappointment as I began to walk across the road, but strangely I didn’t look back, and went on my way. I wasn’t in a hurry, I didn’t have anything in particular on my mind – I had just been on auto-pilot I suppose. On reflection, it was a bit rude and mindless of me and I did feel kind of bad about it. I should have stayed and tried to help rather than just going across the road.

It is so easy to be caught out and it can happen when you least expect it – even when you think you’re being Mindful. More practice required? I don’t think so. Just adding the recollection of this direct experience to the catalogue of direct experiences in my everyday life, so that I can learn from this and maybe next time – who knows – I will be more Mindful in those moments as they unfold!

Anyone else experience momentary lapses like this?