On The Outside

Sitting drinking a cup of tea in a very brief break from pressing concerns earlier today I suddenly thought of the writer Colin Wilson. As a young teenager I had a real 'thing' going with regard to his works, basically as a result of buying his big book on The Occult. I had an unhealthy interest, indeed fascination, with the subject matter, which I only really grew out of once I left school. Then it all began to seem more than a bit silly - which is somewhat reductive of me, but there it is. But back in 1971 I thought Wilson's chunky tome was wonderful and, looking back, I think I learned a lot from it in a slant-wise manner. And I certain broadened my very limited horizons with his more mainstream stuff after getting hold of a second hand copy of The Outsider.

But what struck me this morning was how true one of Wilson's key ideas is, his notion of Faculty X. It's a bit of a silly name for something that, it seems to me now, lies a bit too deep for words. And as I thought of this notion I was reminded of seeing Wilson on some tv programme of quite a popular nature, I think in the early 1980s, and realising as he presented that he wasn't in the slightest bit bothered about not being a respected 'academic' thinker but was genuinely interested in just being himself and communicating what he thought he knew to others.

And that's what his writing felt like: uncontrived, immediate, curious about the strangeness of it all. And not afraid to look foolish. A mindset worth aspiring to, I thought this morning. And still do at the end of the day.

Not Serious At All

There's always a place for mindless enthusiasm in the great scheme of things. Shouting loudly and pointlessly refreshes the spirit. As long as you don't take what you are enthusing over or enraged by too seriously.

Anyone who's ever been triggered by a bad (or good) VAR decision understands this essential truth.

A Positive Note

Present circumstances are such that it's dangerously easy to moan about my line of work. And moan at considerable length. But I don't think that really helps anyone, least of all me. Venting can be a way of letting off steam, but often it turns into a way of generating even more of the over-heated stuff. 

So I'm now deliberately thinking happy thoughts. And here's one. And it's surprisingly true.

It's very hard to think of someone I teach that I actively dislike, even mildly so, or find difficult to like. Pretty much all the students I come into contact with are pleasantly likable in an unforced way. Even the most irritating - and some do meet that description - make up for it by being funny and goofily good-natured. And endearingly fragile somehow.

All My Trials

All you bardolators out there already know that Will loved a pun on travail (a trouble) and travel (as in a journey.) The words would have had the same pronunciation back around 1600, I'm told, and I'm sure the lousily muddy roads between Stratford and the capital played some part in the conjoining of the terms in the great dramatist's (and sonneteer's) mind (there's a lot of this particular pun in the poems, I seem to recall.)

But this is just to say that had he been alive today and experienced the journey, as we did yesterday, from Alor Gajah, down the North-South highway, through the border crossing at Woodlands to this Far Place, he would have thought the same way. It was a travail and a half, I can tell you. And that's all I will say. For now. 

Togetherness

I was a tad reluctant to set off on our weekend jaunt to Melaka, to be honest. This had nothing to do with the nature of the event or the company it would involve, both of which were pull factors. Rather it concerned the sheer non-negotiable amount of work I'm dealing with at present and the lack of any reasonably 'free' time during the week, indeed, weeks ahead to get that done.

Now I'm here, I'm very glad I am. And I've managed to cope, just about, with what demanded to be done. Indeed, past experience suggests this is something of a pattern in my life, and a useful one to recall in moments of reluctance to participate in the flow of real, meaningful, rewarding, life.

Real Achievement

I'd been harbouring an uneasy feeling about Carol Rumens's excellent Poem of the Week feature since her regular posting of poems suddenly dried up in late February. So I wasn't entirely surprised when the news of her death and subsequent tributes were posted in the column this week. Astonishing to think how long she maintained what became my favourite regular feature from any online source. And, just think, it could be accessed for free.

It's an odd consolation in what is often a dark world that Ms Rumens achieved this on top of her own work as a writer. But sad that such an engaging and generous presence (even if mediated on-line) is with us no longer.

Warning Sign

On the way up the hill to Masjid Tentera just now for Friday Prayers I was enjoying the climb in what felt a restful break from the struggles of the day. And then came the sign, hanging off one of the guard-rails adjacent to the steep steps. In stark black capitals on a white background it read: BEWARE OF THE SPITTING COBRA. It woke me from my reverie, I can tell you, as I glanced around the neatly manicured grass on the hillside in case the creature was putting in a mid-day appearance.

It wasn't. Which, oddly enough, provoked disappointment rather than relief. On this, Sir David Attenborough's 100th birthday, it would have felt so appropriate to make first hand contact with the world of the really untamed and dangerous.

Tricky Business

Just filled in a digital arrival card for a journey we're intending to Alor Gajah over the coming weekend. I've completed this one a few times, so you'd think I'd be used to it. But I still manage to find it a fidgety thing to do. I can remember the promises years ago that the advance of IT services would make life easier. 

Can't help but wonder: What happened?

The Wheel Of Fortune

Heard some very bad news today from a friend and colleague regarding a medical problem they are currently dealing with. Life is unfair in what it so often throws at us, without warning. Something worth remembering whenever we reflect on personal good fortune.

But that doesn't mean we shouldn't celebrate good fortune, good times, good health, I think. In fact, I think there's something of a moral imperative to do so. A way of pointing to the balance at the deep heart of things. The thing to remember, for me at least, is that whatever good fortune I experience it doesn't really belong to me.

As a very wise man once sung: You know what they say about being nice to the right people on the way up / Sooner or later, you gonna meet them coming down.

A Little Learning

Spent part of the day conducting lessons on line. Was struck by the fact that such a thing was pretty much unthinkable when I started teaching. Not sure it's particularly efficacious in terms of the learning that takes place. But I'm not sure that questions of genuine learning have ever been front and central in my job in the half century that I've been involved in it.