I have started a bunch of posts over the last month, (yes, month). Not one idea managed to grow into something resembling my idea of a post. The month before that I struggled to hold on to the big thoughts I have when driving in this beautiful county of Cornwall; much of what I have to say when behind the wheel relates to the views, reflections and memories of growing up here. But that’s where it stops, (yes, I started a sentence with But – that isn’t necessarily a crime, no matter how uncomfortable it is making me feel. I am trying to get to grips with whatever creature it is that gets in the way of my writing these days. With the idea that the human mind will put all sorts of obstacles in the way to avoid change, I am embracing the awkward and uncomfortable, in the hope that I am doing good, making a difference, playing my part in the electronic world I have hung out in for all these years).
It’s views like this when nipping down to the shop, that pass me by nine times out of ten but that one time pulls me up short every time.
Thoughts that occur to me, when I visit coastal locations similar to Porthleven, I immediately think about how closed in they feel but I never think that about my own village; even though, looking out from the Harbour Head (as the grassed area at the back of the harbour is called), I struggle to see the open sea. Where the natural geography stops the man made finishes off the enclosure but I do not normally see that. When I say don’t see i mean that I have a scotoma, as Lou Tice would put it, I just couldn’t see it. I can look at it but I couldn’t “see” it. It could be because I have climbed the sides of the village and see the open sea but I don’t think so, I think that like so many people before I see the world in a drop of water, the world in the life of the village. Porthleven, built from the fractals of the rest of the world.
I have been thinking about houses lately, in comparison to many our little cottage is plain but I have decided that I don’t mind what the house looks like – when it comes down to it, if I live in a house it’s the outside that means more. There are places in Cyprus which are pretty much boxes but that’s fine, they have something to look at, greenery, sea, whatever, heck in the right location most of life can run outdoors. When things are rough weatherwise, I can be at home in a room, this netbook my window on the world.
A musical interlude at this point. As I go to write more, in the background the theme music from the science fiction series Star Trek Voyager isplaying. I love this piece of music, with it’s classical and futuristic associations. Here is a link to a version on YouTube:
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2 comments:
Hey I had no idea you wrote so nicely and poetic.. only cos this is the first item of writing by you I read, beyond tweets! Really enjoyed reading it, especially the first few paragraphs. Was intrigued by the title of your post. Hope you're having a nice day over there and enjoy the views!
Thank you for the feedback. I didn't change the title, it was going to be more about the pain of getting something recorded to post. In the end I decided to just hit the publish button as I had gotten to that point on a number of ocassions and ended up deleting the post.
I have the odd flash but generally find writing more of a strain than anything.
I very much appreciate your reference to the poetic, I am a haiku poet and live in awe of my friend Marianne who is a living/breathing poet writing with clarity.
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