A hard landing for some, a welcome break for others..

The next time someone tells you the world as we know it is going to come to an end, you might ponder what that means. It could be that, like me you’ll turn to the doomsayer, smile and say “Well I could do with a break”.

It could be that I am fully in the throes of a mid-life crisis. Though come to think of it,  I’ve never liked that expression. It makes me think of black ice on a steep road a few seconds before you flip the car. No, I prefer to think that instead of staring straight ahead I’ve started looking left and right and found to my dismay that I am on a hamster wheel. Could be it is a mid-life crisis still, could be it’s a necessary reassessment of where I am, where I want to go and who I want to go with me.

Thus, on the assumption that what I am experiencing is just a shelf on which to catch my breath on the long climb to self realization I’ve begun the process of editing my house. I know that’s a strange thing to say, but what I mean is that its hard to see the meaning through all the crap that as a born and bred materialist I have come to call mine.  I’m presently looking at everything with a very critical eye.  Some things are obviously going to be cut, other things will be edited, condensed or take a different form. I have to decide what I want this book to be about and where I see it going.

Mmmm.. self realization, yet another phrase I’ve never felt comfortable with.  There’s far too much self in most people’s lives. Relationships are what make a life, not a German luxury car.  However, if I were to call it ‘holistic realization’, that is understanding myself and where I am in relation to the world and all that lives in it, you’ll probably call me a hippy, not that I’d be insulted by that.

I have to learn my place apparently, and that’s something I thought I’d never say.

Anyway, back to hippy. I venture that if you took a look at me and looked at the pigeonhole marked hippy, you’d probably be looking for the hammer that kids use to put a round peg into a square hole.

Anyway, digression over. It’s a celtic fault and I am very celtic, being Scots, though it’s been years since I wore a kilt. Just for the record I’ve never felt the need to paint my face blue and white.

Once again digression over.

I tend to think that for a lot of us the coming storm will be a time when we find out what our choices are in life. As far as I can tell the whole rotten edifice of our society, its abuses, its felt padded handcuffs, its choices which are not really choices, will come crashing down.  And let me say, that’s a good thing, at least in the so called advanced countries.  In countries where starvation is a constant threat, well the word dark doesn’t do justice to what that will be like.

However, back to the rich folk. Most people I know don’t want to think about what’s coming. They see insecurity, danger and the unknown. What they don’t see is all the good things that will come out of it, if you are in any way prepared. If you choose not to prepare then that’s your choice. I wish you luck with that.


You wake up in the morning with just enough time to take a shower before you have to run out the door. You move past a blur of people you don’t know and never will know. You sit next to them on the train trying not to catch anyone’s eye in case they think you’re strange. To aid you in this you download your personality into your I-pod, like something out of invasion of the bodysnatchers, and sit there vacant expression, unkempt hair. Either that or you airlock yourself into your car and listen to a disembodied voice on the radio inform you that the traffic jam directly ahead of you is one you should avoid.

Then you get to work. Here you find your sensory deprivation cell, your solitary confinement, lying in wait for you, as  it is five days out of every week. It doesn’t occur to you that if your environment were engaging and connected you’d engage with it. Trouble is then how would you get your work done? So you sit down at your bench, shackle yourself to your oar and start rowing. Come 6 o clock you can take a break because the boss is done water skiing. And he needs you fresh for tomorrow.   And of course, in order to ensure that you retain the privilege of chaining yourself to your oar everyday you smile at the guy up there with the whip.

Now take this and multiply it by forty years.

The road home is just a rerun of the road to work, except you are about as empty as your  two year old phone battery. You don’t smell anything (at least nothing pleasant), you avoid touching anything (or God forbid anyone), you hear but don’t listen and taste is not something associated with heavily processed convenience store substances pretending to be food. Bacteria will eat just about anything, but even they turn their nose up at that.

So when someone tells you the world will change, you might smile and say..


Please continue reading my blog. I’d like to meet friends on the road I’m on.


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