"We've Got Tonight, No More Tomorrow"

Some monk or other (and I realise I'm not  good at giving specific credit to the various sources I refer to) replied, on being asked what he would do if he was going to die tomorrow:

"I would still plant this apple tree".

Which was very forward thinking of him. Unless "he" was a nun. In which case it was very forward thinking of her. Anyway, I'm getting away from the point. Already.

And the point is that I suspect I'm still quite a long way from having that much perspective and wisdom in the presence of my imminent end. Or even if I was able to give the APPEARANCE of having such presence of mind I suspect I would be shaking inside at the same time.

Which I imagine is not abnormal.

But, you know, being honest about my totally understandable weakness in the face of death, isn't the same as saying I want to remain in subservience to that weakness.

I would like to be that monk. I would like to have a calmness and serenity when I approach the drop at that terminal Niagara Falls in my little coracle. I would like to enjoy finishing off my Sudoko puzzle as the water got a bit rougher, and noisier, and sprayier.

And that's why I talk about death quite a bit. Not because I'm morbid or obsessed. Particularly. It's simply that I like to practise the things that I want to get better at. So that maybe, one day, Fee can come third.


The line "We've got tonight, no more tomorrow"is from my unreleased song When The World Blows Up.


You will find most of my released songs at Fee Comes Fourth.

“I Chat Her Up Inside My Head Again”

I’ve written several romantic songs. This line is from one called Be Still (My Beating Heart) which is available in my Fee Comes Fourth series. It’s about a young fella in love, where all the action happens inside his head. And that’s how it all begins of course. And that's a link of sorts...

Last night I watched a film called Amour which is reviewed at Rotten Tomatoes by those who can describe the cinematic experience far better than I can. But basically this film travels all the way down the line to the end of the romantic journey. In a very stark, bleak, but amazingly touching and thought provoking way, it captures the end of it all for a couple who have been together for a long time. There is nothing obviously romantic about this story. It’s a very difficult watch. The action is sparse but totally engrossing, as the wife gets a stroke, which very gradually and painfully takes her to the end. We watch her unravelling and the effect it has on her relationships, primarily the one with her husband. It doesn’t provide any answers whatsoever. But it does draw out questions that we might not want to ask, but will all have to face at some point.

There was a time when this story would have depressed me beyond help. I don’t recommend it to everyone, but if you happen to think it is important to confront the difficult questions about death and dying and the way it will affect us all at some point in the future, then watch it. And afterwards don’t despair. Think about how our lives are all about giving and receiving, about getting and losing, about holding and letting go. There is simply a time when we all have to let go of others, and finally of ourselves, for the last time. We all share this future.

It’s a sad thing, but it’s not necessarily morbid. And I’ve been inspired to think more about the practical side of that final letting go, and how to let other people be part of it, as far as we are able to control any of these things. So that’s a good result out of a difficult experience. I’ve been getting very tired of the Hollywood world view for quite a long time now so this film was, in a perverse way, also a very refreshing experience for me.

By the way. I don’t charge anything for being here to cheer you up.