What gives you direction in life?
A no ponder, ponder. Just an answer.
The fear of not having a direction.
#theoldmortuary ponders
#902 theoldmortuary ponders.
May 2nd and it is still raining. We have had this Buddha for some time. A long enough time for a fair amount of wear and tear. In a few moments of dry weather I gave Buddha a quick spray job of rose gold. On close inspection Buddha has become a bug hotel. Spraying Buddha was inspired by a Buddha factory and wholesale Buddha Emporium that we stumbled on in downtown Bangkok, this time last year.
We couldn’t take photos in the factory but Buddhas great and small were being moulded, built and sprayed in a production line and were for sale in wholesale numbers. Some were so big they were created in pieces.
My old, blue, tatty Buddha probably started life in such a place.
Tatty no more. Sprayed a bright golden coat and now waxed to give some protection against the relentless rain. The bugs who stay in this unusual bug hotel were unbothered by my renovations. This morning Buddha was adorned with webs of all shapes and sizes each one adorned with twinkling raindrops.
#902 theoldmortuary ponders.
Do you have a quote you live your life by or think of often?
I could quote something really meaningful here, but to my shame, my often thought of quote is rather passive-aggressive. Rarely said aloud but thought of through gritted teeth while smiling.
” You are mistaking my tolerance for indifference”
These 7 words have a whole scale of thoughts behind them. 90% of the time the response is of no consequence outside of my thoughts, just me thinking that I am a bit annoyed or really annoyed but nothing really earth shattering . But the 10% can be an unexpected fierce retort or worse the icy chill of some final invisible line being crossed.
I hear you thinking what relevance to the picture of Kingsand Clock tower is my admission of passive-aggresive thoughts.
Well, when the sun came out on Sunday we were sat at the bottom of the clock tower basking in delicious sunlight. Coffees in hand and calm happy dogs resting on the beach. The beach was big, as the tide was out, and there were very few people about. I was pondering that our exact position on a calm and beautiful day was sometimes under 40 foot waves as the worst of winter storms hit this coastal village. Images and news article below.
BBC News – Storm-hit Kingsand clock tower reopens after £600,000 repairs
https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-cornwall-31469491
My pondering and basking were interrupted by 4 people and a large dog choosing to sit right next to us. They were not basking and pondering sort of people. Noisy, competitive, faffers without a scintilla of calm about them. With a whole beach to choose why sit next to the only other people sitting peacefully pondering?
I had about twenty minutes of tolerance in me. My coffee was done, and my pondering about massive waves was unnerving me slightly. Time to remove my intolerant self from the location with one of those statements that may or may not have been heard.
” Shall we move on?”
“This is about as relaxed as my bum after a hot curry”
Oh dear!
A clear case of me hiding a case of grumpiness in some beautiful surroundings. In a world of so many wonderful, positive quotes the few negative ones I hold onto are easier to recall.
Moving on, have you ever seen a more gorgeous village hall.
#901 theoldmortuary ponders
At no point in blog #900 were we more than 2 miles as the seagull flies from home. But as you can see from this map we live in a complex place water-wise. To cover that 2 miles as non-seagulls involves either a long drive involving a toll bridge. A car ferry or a foot ferry.
#900 theoldmortuary ponders.
When I moved from Cornwall to Devon people questioned the decision but being a woman from Essex I always felt rather more like a Tamar Valley resident than a Cornish one. Cornwall can be tricksy with people not born there. Devon has a more open heart. The small move to Devon was, and is no big deal.
The big deal is of course the way I serve scones.
Geography and Cream. Critical!
If in doubt eat a cheese scone no jeopardy with a cheese scone.
#900 theoldmortuary ponders.
#900, I should write something epic and meaningful. And as it happens I can say that yesterday just like life, was about the journey not the destination. Although the destination was certainly the plan.
Cawsand, as viewed from the round window was the destination, but the weather got in the way. Heavy rain kept us prisoners in the van in a rather dull carpark so we chose to relocate to a car park with views . We had lunch, books and newspapers with us and all the facilities of our campervan. We drove to Maker Church and enjoyed the views. There are footpaths from Maker that link to the nearby South West Coastal path, we have parked there often. But never since we have had a camper van and the luxury to enjoy a lunch with comfy seats and a view. Then the rain stopped. The church and churchyard were bathed in bright sunlight. We decided to walk the dogs in the ancient churchyard.
The old churchyard was full of blue and white bluebells and a smattering of wild garlic.
The fragrance as the hundreds of flowers warmed up, was unexpectedly powerful, not sweet but heady and musky with a hint of garlic. Since I have never heard of a bluebell perfume I assume it is a redolence that is hard to replicate by the beauty industry. I could have rolled around like an excited dog in fox poo. Obviously I didn’t do that but a smell so gorgeous could easily make me do giddy things. What I did do is study old grave stones.
If I were ever to write a novel I would search old graveyards for character names. Yesterdays top name for a character was Philadelphia Jago.
Although unphotographed there was an unusual amount of Samson or Sampsons buried in the old bit of the graveyard. I wonder if that is a Cornish thing or if the name was just much more popular 200 years ago. My son is a Sam but his full name of Samuel means ‘name of God’ or ‘God has heard’ . Had I called him Samson or Sampson his name would have been far more appropriate as that means child of the sun and he, very much, is a sunny kind of person. I wonder how well Samson would have worked for him in the classrooms of the nineties.
Maybe I should finish this 900th ponder with some views from a country churchyard. They were spectacular.
Below is the morning question from my blog host. Is camping only considered camping if an overnight has occured. Yesterday was definitely camping light. Hours avoiding rain in a snug van with enough to read and eat and then much later than planned we arrived at the actual planned destination of the day. But that is a blog for another day.
Have you ever been camping?
#899 theoldmortuary ponders.
When do you feel most productive?
I am erratically productive. Naturally most productive from 7 in the morning until 3 in the afternoon. Sunshine helps enormously. At 3 I am ready for lunch sometimes the first meal of the day. Then there is a creative hiatus until about 7 in the evening. 7 pm is my creative planning and thinking phase. Unrecognisable to outside observers who might think I am just being a regular human doing regular human stuff, but outside appearances can be deceiving. Inside my skull, all sorts of schemes are being hatched and discarded. Google Research is my friend at 7, both ends of the day if I get the chance.
Colour was my stimulation yesterday. Some Green Man Choir singing is always a good inspiration for some thinking,usually about the patriarchy and folklore. When I got home there was a lovely, accidental, Primary colour placement of some supermarket lemons.
Actually all the citrus fruits were feeling photogenic yesterday.
Only purple was missing from the mornings colour ponderings but as luck would have it Facebook had a timehop from more than 10 years ago in my Cornish garden. Obviously, a better Spring than we are having this year.
Creativity is such a strange phenomenon. Trapped by being close to the results/ punishment/rewards cycle of Productivity. Nobody gives credit for creative/productive thinking or experimentation. A huge amount of creativity never creates a tangible ‘thing’. But sometimes intangible things gather together to become something. Sometimes failure becomes success and sometimes the other way round. Sometimes I creatively ponder around in circles.
#898 theoldmortuary ponders
Not exactly a sunset picture but silky waters and a large cloud. The water was very enticing, on our evening walk, but we knew that it was all a lie by nature. Two hours earlier we had had one of our chillier swims of the winter/spring season. 5 bobbers bobbed at 5 pm, and for some reason it was unexpectedly cold. We have low expectations, which were exceeded. The coldest month in the water in Plymouth is March but I suspect our lack of any sustained good weather has kept the sea temperature low and there was a very brisk wind as we swam and chatted.
Hot tea and chocolate biscuits sorted us out as we dressed and caught up with each other’s news. I don’t expect any of us to have achieved much on our Friday evening after our swim, but not achieving much could be considered an excellent way to end the working week.
#897 theoldmortuary ponders.
What topics do you like to discuss?
I love a discussion that takes me somewhere interesting. Either in real life or in an inner monologue journey. There is a load of stuff that doesn’t interest me, but if someone speaks interestingly about something I have no interest in then it is the style of discussion that becomes the thing of interest. Sometimes the route I take in discussions is almost inexplicable even to me. But that is a sign that I have not been bored. Boredom in conversation is the worst. Boredom comes in all shapes and sizes, all of them human. Oh, I wish I was better at handling it. I’m never bored in my head so I get no practice. I know it is good manners to listen and I am a very very happy listener but not to boring people. I am in absolute awe of people who can tolerate bores and continue to look and sound interested.
The pictures in this blog come from a frequent family discussion that I was aware of at the age of five and in some ways continues on 60 years later and illustrates the twists of an interesting topic that involves boredom at an early stage. My grandparents had a relation who they kept in good contact with but rarely met. He worked at the Dungeness Power Station and lived somewhere near. He sent post cards of his Kent home. My grandparents who lived in the rolling, beautiful, Essex country side thought his landscape was boring.
In the seventies I loved the work of a punk/ Gothic film maker and Artist Derek Jarman.
In the early 2000’s I moved to South London and my nearest coast was Kent.
Derek Jarman had a home on Dungeness.
I was living a day trip away from somewhere my grandparents thought boring but that fascinated an artist I admired.
*Dungeness* https://g.co/kgs/Nh1bce3
I loved the place instantly and love talking about it.
My dogs love it too
And now some lovely friends are holidaying there and sharing their pictures.
And so a discussion that I have been part of for 60 years with huge gaps, different people and for a variety of reasons just keeps going and I never know where it is heading.
That is something worthy of discussion.
If only magic realism was a thing. Or Time Travel. I could take my grandparents to Dungeness and show them how fascinating other landscapes are. We could pop in to see Lionel, the relation or Derek the artist or even Marianne and Gill in their campervan. Or maybe a Dungeness discussion of the future!
#896 theoldmortuary ponders
When is the last time you took a risk? How did it work out?
Don’t we all take risks from time to time? Carefully judged most often but sometimes not thought out at all. Yesterday, I was tired after a few hours of computer work. I decided to sweep the yard, clearing all the moss dropped by nest-building birds. In doing so I knocked some rotting wood from a raised bed, full to the brim with these small rocks. Should I remove all the wood and accept the consequences?
Several hours later and many many shovels full of these rocks I unearthed a perfectly acceptable concrete seating area.
Currently not a thing of beauty but nothing a power washer can’t sort out. I am somewhat perplexed as to why anyone would turn this into a stone-filled raised bed. But my tiny bit of risk taking paid off. I don’t even want to know what the concrete is hiding. We will sit here in the sun oblivious to the mystery.
The Buddha with the fractured skull seems very happy with the new location.
So now to dispose of many bags of grotty old rocks…
#895 theoldmortuary ponders
Early morning daisies doing their very best to shout out for Spring. These daisies may not have got their moment in the sun ( blog) if it were not for a lovely colour and shape coincidence.
I know very little about spiders but I imagine they have had a tough Winter/Spring as rain has constantly run into their spidery hidey holes. Just hours after the daisy picture I caught an orange, or maybe tan spider having a bask in a tiny porthole window.
This picture also looks, at first glance like a tennis ball, bringing an unusual and high flying spectator to a game.
I am not a natural arachnophobe in my normal day to day life,but neither would I feel hugely comfortable if this chap suddenly swung down on a silken thread and brushed my face?
Is there a scale of arachnophobia and we all sit somewhere on it ? With spider lovers actively taking positive steps to overcome a fear that is hard-wired into humans.
I had a nasty bite once, on my ankle. Dulwich Park, not anywhere risky. The spider was not nasty because I am not a fly, but the bite became a bit gooey and sore. The local pharmacist said he had seen a few such bites that week. All well and good in 21st Century London with antibiotic creams but would it have been a much bigger problem centuries ago?
I’m just not certain I fully understand why arachnophobia is such a common/popular fear when actual serious harm to humans is rare in most countries.
Dr Google helps out a bit but also muddies the waters by throwing in religion.
An evolutionary response: Research suggests that arachnophobia or a general aversion to spiders is hard-wired as an ancestral survival technique.
Cultural and/or religious beliefs: Some individuals within certain cultural or religious groups seem to have phobias that stem from these influences. These particular phobias differ from phobias that are common in the general population, making culture and religion potential factors in phobia development.
Genetic or family influences: Researchers believe that there may be a genetic component linked to phobias. Family environmental factors may also influence the development of phobias. For example, if a parent has a specific phobia to something, a child may pick up on that fear and develop a phobic response to it.
Spiders in religion is going to have to be a whole other ponder. The early morning coffee and my spider pondering is done for the day.
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