All the signs

When all the signs are pointing south

Is there anything else that you can do

But hold your nose and cover your mouth

And dive dive dive dive

When all the signs are point north

Is there anything else that you can do

But sight the maps and chart a course

And sail sail sail sail

When all the signs are pointing east

Is there anything else that you can do

But draw your sword and slay the beast

And fight fight fight fight

When all the signs are pointing west

Is there anything else that you can do

But dress yourself up in your very best

And smile smile smile smile

When all the signs are pointing one way

Is there anything else that you can do

But take a moment just to pray

Then step two three four

Step two three four

Step two three four

Step two three four

Step.

My circular / tangential theory of time

Time is circular. That doesn’t mean that everything is always repeating itself, although that’s often the case. Rather, it's a combination of tangents and curves that represents our past, present and future.

If time was represented as a circle, at any given point in time what you saw as the future would be a point directly in front of you: a tangent. You are heading towards this point although you will never attain it, because as you follow the circle, you are constantly changing direction, little by little. That doesn’t make that future any less yours: you are still heading towards it and your path would be far different if you were heading towards a different one. But forces affect you and nudge you so you continue on the curve a little ways, adjusting the tangent you are heading towards. You may head towards this one a little longer, moving in a straight line for a while, and then something taps you in another direction; you adjust your sights, refocus your target, and continue. In this way time and life is simply a series of tangents and circles.

Connected to this is my belief that some of the harshest, most gut-wrenching moments come when that tangent, that vision of the future, is torn away from us, and we spin like a broken compass, with no sense of north. That’s what happens when someone dies: all the things you had actively or passively imagined for the future – birthdays, parties, arguments, conversations, tea, cookies, gifts – get torn away with them, no longer a possible future. That’s what happens when you get fired, or you don’t get into the course at uni you want, or you suffer a career-altering injury: all your plans for the future, all your security, has to be re-assessed, and re-instated with another goal in mind.

Life is never as you imagined it. Where you are now is rarely where you imagined yourself to be 10 years ago, or at least at our age that’s the case. But would you have got here if you hadn’t been looking at that point off to the side, on a tangent 10 years ago? Remember a minute change in angle greatly affects the tangent, the further you follow it from the present point.

Seriously

When my world turns upside down in a fit of pique,

And various nonsense is all that I speak,

When my words are flippant and my world is too,

I look to the child and remember the truth:

There is more to me than empty words,

Than cute maxims and fake proverbs,

There are those who rely on me;

And then I can take myself seriously.

Simple Prayer

As I speak let me listen
As I see let me do
As I walk may I continue
According to you

As I hear let me obey
As I read may I learn
As I work may I continue
To give what I earn

As I receive may I give
As I spend may I save
As I search may I follow
Your one true way

As I forgive I am forgiven
As I bless I am blessed
As I love I am beloved
The dearest and best

The Rose Grower

Bethany looked after the woman who bustled away, her mouth slightly open and the last morsel of her muffin poised between her mouth and the plate that had just been swept away, momentarily forgotten. She collected herself and turned to her table companion.

'You know, I know I should like Mrs. Galloway; she does so many good things, she's always busy helping people; see even now she's collecting plates when Jenny's supposed to be doing it; but she somehow irritates me.' She gestured to the slightly stooped woman and her ever-growing stack of dirty plates.

Marcus nodded knowledgeably.

'Ah, so she's a rose-grower then.'

Bethany frowned slightly, resisting asking what he meant by that until she had had a good think about it. Marcus smiled.

'There are rose-growers everywhere,' he explained expansively. 'They grow the most beautiful roses; they spend every waking hour tending their precious roses, roses which bring delight to the world: on Valentine's Day, on birthdays and anniversaries, to lovers, to lost loves, to new loves, to say sorry, or to say welcome, or to say congratulations or thankyou. A rose-grower's family takes pride in their roses; a rose-grower's neighbours boast of their view. But the rose-grower is so busy growing roses that she never stops…'

Bethany's face lit up as she realised where Marcus was going with his analogy and joined in the final words, 'to smell the roses.'

She smiled and looked back to Mrs Galloway.

'Yes, she does good things but takes no delight in it.'

Marcus made a sound of agreement. 'And she probably thinks it is best that way, and that doing good things for pleasure is purely selfish.'

Art

Well, me dear
Let me just take your hand
We'll have a conversation
That we won't understand
We'll linger a while
Before we depart
It's all unproductive
But it's still quite an art

Begone

Oh begone all things that would distract

From the task which lies before me now

Begone all hunger, for the promised snack

Would be gone before it is devoured

Begone all thirst, for I need not drink

In order to grant me room to think

Begone all sights! Begone all thoughts!

Which would have me shift from my firm course.

Begone the day! Begone the night!

Begone this very poem I write.