Brief Synopsis to Beautiful People

Some of you may know that I’m writing a novel in my spare time.  I am weaving a story around my love of bucolic bliss in Devon, coastal scenery, late sixties and early seventies rock and roll music, the Glastonbury festival, romanticism and existentialist philosophy.

By incorporating teachers, farmers, musicians, writers and the COVID-19 pandemic into the story I am using my creative, descriptive writing to explore the themes of loss, marriage, family, career, capitalism, education, lust and love in affluent, middle class 21st century Britain.

Attached below is a brief synopsis.  I have mapped out the sequence of events and written the first 35,000 words so far (about a quarter of the book).  I am really enjoying the writing process and the philosophical reflection enabled by the creation of varied fictional characters, scenery and situations.

I hope to complete most of the book by January 2021, and to start seeking a literary agent in the Autumn.  I’m sure my meanderings would benefit from the wise eyes of an experienced editor but I really feel that I’m onto something here.

I think the book would appeal to those with a philosophical bent, who appreciate wild country and descriptive writing.  Also those who have an affection for rock and roll music, the sixties counterculture and the Glastonbury festival of music and performing arts.  As a writer, I am writing for me really, so if you you are a utopian dreamer with a mild affliction of midlife crisis the book may appeal to you too.

Working title:  Beautiful People

Brief synopsis:

Beautiful People by Toby Payne-Cook

The story begins in April 2019 at the funeral of an urban, eccentric novelist called Diana.  She has led a full life cut short by cancer but her early life remained a secret from her children.  At the funeral, Luke, her forty five year old teacher son acquaints himself with his errant musician Uncle Mark, Diana’s youngest brother, and is invited down to Hexworthy, the remote seaside village in rural North Devon where Diana grew up. 

In Devon, the cracks in Luke’s eighteen year marriage start to deepen and he discovers a reclusive, octogenarian hippy called Mary who may hold the key to the secrets of Diana’s past.

The story unfolds over two and a half years documenting marital tension through COVID-19 lockdown, rock and roll hedonism, adolescent disenfranchisement, Glastonbury festival’s postponed 50th anniversary in 2021, the late sixties counterculture (with the song ‘Beautiful People’ by Melanie, a recurring theme through the book) and beautiful, rural land and seascapes along the journey. 

Ultimately, it is a voyage of discovery of place, self and family secrets culminating in Luke finding true love, meaning and a simpler way of life in greater harmony with nature than his comfortable, compromised suburban existence prior to the loss of his mother.

 

On Beauty. #DailyWritingChallenge

Some quotes to kick us off…the third one about ambition comes from a Radiohead lyric.

  1. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
  2. Beauty is only skin deep.
  3. Ambition makes you look pretty ugly.

Beauty is subjective.

On the surface, beauty for me is the raw, wildness of nature untouched by human hands at Hartland Quay in Devon.  It is an oak tree in early Spring; its pale green leaves offset against a perfect, azure sky.  It is a herbaceous border full of lupins, delphiniums and digitalis (foxgloves) with plentiful lush, green foliage.  It is dappled shade in an ancient woodland.  It is sitting at the foot of a buzzing hedgerow watching haymaking in a rolling, bucolic landscape.

But, I think, when most of us think of beauty we think of human beauty.  Beauty is a commodity used to sell films, magazines, awards ceremonies and skin care products.  There is some consensus on the most beautiful women (or men) of all time, but we all have our individual preferences.  Personally, I’m a fan of brunettes:  Kate Beckinsale, Gemma Arterton and Freida Pinto are all very beautiful to me.  But that movie star, fashion model or pop singer beauty is only skin deep.  I’m sure Kate, Gemma and Freida are beautiful on the inside as well as out, but I don’t know that as I don’t have the pleasure of knowing them.

I’ve been thinking about this concept of beauty, or of what it is that makes us beautiful.  So much so that the working title of my debut novel is Beautiful People, a little bit inspired by Sally Rooney’s title, Normal People but specifically linked to the Melanie song of the same title from 1969, which weaves its way through the book.

What is it that makes a beautiful person?  This is really what I’m trying to explore in the book.  People can be beguiling, alluring, witty, charming, talented, sexy, cool and exude great warmth but behind that veneer they can be ruthless, manipulative or unreliable.  Others can be aloof and unfriendly yet beneath that unapproachable aura, rock solid, consistent and with a heart of gold.  Others can have radiant beauty without the ability to communicate, others can have beautiful mind encased within a shambolic, dishevelled exterior.  People can exude beauty to varying degrees throughout their lives; people can be seduced by beauty to varying degrees at different stages of life too.  Someone can be the most beautiful person in your life and ten years later they can be the ugliest, emptiest soul on the planet.

For me:

A beautiful person must be comfortable in their skin.

They must not tread on others to find their own success.

Beauty is not driven by money, fame or career.

A beautiful person must be empathetic but never insincere.

A beautiful person never seeks to control, and does not judge; though they may guide and support.

A beautiful person should not take themselves or life too seriously.

A beautiful person has no sense of entitlement and expects very little from others or life.

A beautiful person is grateful for what they have.

A beautiful person sees the good in other people.  They trust others.

A beautiful person does not demand respect or adulation.

A beautiful person doesn’t need makeup or fashion to enhance their natural radiance.

A beautiful person does not take sides, does not pick fights, does not draw battle lines and does not incite hatred.

A beautiful person loves nature more than culture.  They are spawned from the Earth, to which they will return; they are, as Neil Young once sang, as real as the day is long.

They are not easily influenced, nor do they set out to influence.

They are both interested and interesting.

A beautiful person must appreciate beauty.

They must believe in something, they must have a cause, a passion or a purpose.

A beautiful person is a natural wonder of the world.

 

Maybe I’ll share the synopsis of my book another time…but for now, the last line might be:

In the end, they became beautiful people because they knew this beautiful place.

Hope. #DailyWritingChallenge. All we can hope for is purpose and meaning.  When hope turns into expectation or entitlement it can only lead to disappointment.

All we can hope for is purpose and meaning.  When hope turns into expectation or entitlement it can only lead to disappointment.

In my privileged, bucolic, middle class utopia on the rural fringe of a Kentish village, I have encountered many local acquaintances and friends passing my front garden going for dog walks, daily exercise or family bike rides over the last few weeks of lockdown.  In most of our socially distanced conversations about isolation, most of us have declared our happiness and contentment with a strengthened, albeit socially distanced, community; my London commuting friends are loving the lack of train commute and most people I know (definitely not a representative sample of the whole of society) are enjoying the advantages of this peculiar situation and happily ignoring the disadvantages.  Some of them, possibly me as well, hope this new, simpler, less relentless way of life lasts for a long time.  If there is a God, he or she was middle class and lived in the countryside.  This pandemic may be teaching us that the urbanisation of the last two hundred years may be coming towards an accelerated end…

 

There are of course some things I will miss out on this summer (postponed WOMAD and Black Deer music festivals to name but two) and the lockdown has further complicated a complicated and hopeless situation for my lonely, isolated, elderly mother down in Devon.  There have been family tensions too and the five of us have had to make adjustments and find new meaning and purpose in order to get through the unfamiliar strain of being together ALL the time…

 

I am extremely fortunate in that I love walking and cycling through the countryside, I love gardening and I love writing and I’m really enjoying experimenting with writing a novel.  My teaching life is busy too, working for a non-selective independent school (which has reduced its summer term fees by 25%, but still obviously needs to meet the high expectations of parents choosing to pay for their children’s education) means that we have needed to gold plate our home based educational provision.  I’ve been teaching live lesson intros for Year 6, 7 & 8, running small group tutorials and discussions and setting open ended assignments and feeding back to children via Microsoft teams. For the majority of children their education has been continuing apace.  Some are struggling with the process and I, personally, am looking forward to some outdoor science learning in our beautiful grounds with year 6 after half-term.  I am fortunate, and I do not worry about the safety of myself or the children in my educational setting.

 

I understand the fear and concerns of many people in our current situation, even if I cannot fully empathise with everything I read and hear about.  I wonder if some of the fear of returning to school is driven by hope.  Hope for a fairer education system.  Hope for a less scrutinised, measured and compared education system.  Hope for a fairer society.  Hope for a greener society.  Hope for a less divided society.  Hope for a simpler, easier, less transitory life.

 

I hope for all these things too.  But I don’t think government or policy can fix all our hopes and dreams.  There is no political or economic system in the world which works effectively for 100% of a population.  Some systems are fairer and better for a greater proportion of their populous than ours has been since Thatcherism in the 1980s made us into a more individualistic and selfish nation than we already were.  But there is no holy grail.  There will always be compromise, there will always be the balancing of conflicting risks, there will always be people who think their belief system or politics is more right than someone else’s, there will always be mistakes.

 

Where I think hope can be problematic is that we all hope for a long and healthy life, we all hope to be treated fairly, we all hope for a prosperous retirement, we all hope for happy, loving relationships and many of us hope for too many material possessions or dream holidays.  Our mass marketed modern world has duped us into converting these hopes into our basic human rights.

 

But all we can really hope for is there to be meaning and purpose to our lives.  This is really hard in a media infested world.  We are constantly being told what to believe and what is normal that many of us have lost the ability to think for ourselves, to realise that we and not the government, or our boss, or our spouse, or the media can have some control over our lives.  And we have to generate that for ourselves, guided by the wisdom of our parents, our friends, our teachers, our colleagues and other caring members of our families and local communities.

 

That is my greatest hope from all of this.  That we remember we can be beautiful people living in a beautiful place, closely connected to our communities and the nature which surrounds us.  I hope, more than anything, that we – collectively – realise that our Western globalised and economically driven cultures have drifted so far from the natural order of things that we have forgotten that nature can sometimes be cruel and we have no human right to transcend it.

 

Let hope enable purpose and meaning but please don’t let hope turn into expectation or entitlement.  Because that form of hope can only ever lead to disappointment.

 

I’m really curious? But why? #DailyWritingChallenge. #Curiosity

Curiosity.

 

Intellectual curiosity is arguably the most important virtue in unlocking learning.  It is really hard to learn something, particularly something complex and beautiful like chemistry – for example – without curiosity.

 

The great challenge we have in school aged children is the need for all sorts of foundational knowledge stored in our long term memory to enable deeper, conceptual learning in abstract human constructs like language, maths, art and their incandescent holy grail: chemistry!

 

So we construct all sorts of dry, testable, intangible and frequently utterly unfathomable, inaccurate and decontextualized nuggets of knowledge in our curricula, to pump into our semantic memories.  Because chemistry is complex, we sometimes tell half truths or outright lies to help make something make sense to a 9 year old, 12 year old or a 15 year old.  Sometimes there might be a bit of whizz bang edutainment with fire, explosions or multi coloured powders with weird names; a little episodic relief if you like, but that is all really just a mirage, a hook, a persuasion to knuckle down and learn those abstract concepts.

 

Of course, for some those abstract concepts of chemical bonding, thermodynamics, entropy, atomic mass, chemical formulae etc have an instantly assimilable logic to them but for most they are just Why T.A.F am I learning this Sh*t?!

 

This semantic pump can be stifling.  Particularly when we are not excited by the end product of the sematic pump in the first place.  When we, as teachers, get to this place mentally, it is tempting to throw out the curriculum, go all hippy and create a country full of Summerhill schools where children can choose what they learn and when they learn it.  While I delight in non-conformity, I’m not sure that is really a solution to greater engagement and curiosity across the curriculum.

 

There are many teachers who believe that we need a lot of knowledge before we can be truly curious about a subject; that we have to layer up base vocabulary, language and conceptual understanding before we can be purposefully curious.  I’m not sure this magic Eureka moment of curiosity suddenly clicks in for everyone.

 

So what makes us curious, and why is it so important?

 

Einstein famously said that he had no special talents other than being insatiably curious.  All the great polymaths including da Vinci and von Humbolt were curious.  Did they really become curious AFTER amassing great intellectual capability, or was their INNATE curiosity key to unlocking their intellectual rigour and achievements?

 

I don’t know.  All I know is that no one is curious about everything and that no one is curious about nothing.  I know that I am curious about people, psychology, nature, plants, farming, music, literature, philosophy, social history and anthropology.  I’m quite curious about genetics, biotechnology and the ongoing battle between thermodynamics and entropy (order and chaos).  But I’m not curious about war or military history, I’m not really curious about particle physics or ancient theological texts and I’m certainly not curious about celebratory culture or the inner workings of the incredible Macbook technology I’m typing on.

 

I’ve always been more curious about some things than others.  In a classroom or lecture theatre that curiosity has sometimes been unlocked by an engaging, deeply knowledgeable and slightly quirky teacher, lecturer or presenter.  Even though I find the properties of supercooled liquids and the amorphous state utterly fascinating, this curiosity was not unlocked by boring physical chemistry lectures at university, it was only through discussion with colleagues, through dialogue with experts and physical, hands on experience of materials and material characterisation techniques that such an unpredictable and fascinating hidden world was unveiled.

 

If I’m interested in something, I am curious about it.  But do I have to know a bit about it first?  And what is it that makes me more interested in some things than others?

 

I’m really curious about that.

 

 

Brief Musings on Creativity… #DailyWritingChallenge #Creativity

Musings on Creativity.

 

It is hard to write about Creativity in an educational context without mentioning *that* TED talk from 2006 by Sir Ken Robinson. Back then I was seduced by Ken’s message and I still think he is broadly right today, but my views have shifted a little as I have come to realise that creating a more creative nation, society or culture is quite a long way down the priority list of schools and education.

 

Sir Ken’s problem is best manifested by the story, by Helen Buckley, called “The Little Boy” which was read to me on my PGCE. I append this at the end.

 

The creativity problem is exacerbated by not really having an agreed definition of creativity. Within the context of school we often talk about the creative subjects (Art, Music, DT and Drama; English too).   But much of what we learn and do in those subjects at school is not creative at all (spelling rules, learning lines, following specific stage movement instructions, practising playing a musical instrument, craft etc).

 

Being artistic, dramatic or musical is not necessarily the same as being creative. There are many outlets at school and in life for being artistic or musical or dramatic but how many are there for being creative? When I think of creativity I think of creative thinking.

 

Original, creative thinkers tend to dislike the formality of school education. Here is Rod Judkins at the beginning of his book, “The Art of Creative Thinking:”

 

“When I first stepped into an art college as a student, I instantly felt at home – for the first time ever.

 

At school, creativity was supressed and crushed. It was something that teachers and authorities actually feared. They regarded it as dangerous, something they couldn’t control. They steered students away from it in the same way they steered them away from drugs, burglary or gambling.

 

At art college I found the opposite. The spirit was one in which mistakes were good. Where you could try and fail. There was no emphasis on getting it right.”

 

There are ludicrously countering views to this such as we can only be creative in a domain we know a lot about and therefore we have to pump in lots of knowledge before any great creative or innovative leap can be made in Science or Engineering for example. While on an individual basis there is some truth in this it is in reality complete bollocks as great leaps of imagination in Science and technology have been made incrementally, by teams of very diverse thinkers. The examples of individual leaps of scientific genius are extremely rare.

 

The idea that knowledge x knowledge = creativity is flawed. I know a great many very knowledgeable people who cannot think creatively and quite a few “creatives” not exactly party to the encyclopaedia Britannica in their minds…

Frankly, I’ve had enough of this futile debate. Number crunchers (and I don’t mean mathematicians here, many of whom are highly creative) and those who want to measure and compare things (e.g. education) are never going to see the world from an abstract or alternative perspective. Conversely, I probably wouldn’t want an off the wall creative running the country or a school or a corporation. Chaos and anarchy would be fun for a week but probably not forever!

 

What I absolutely hate about our compartmentalised, specialised world is that we group people into “creatives” “artists” “scientists” etc…why can’t we dabble in a bit of both? Some good old fashioned polymathy would be good for all of us: the science of art and the art of science.

 

More interesting to me these days is where does creativity come from? Is it innate, or is it due to the freedom and open-mindedness of our formative years? A bit of both, I suspect.

 

I could go on. But I won’t. Here’s The Little Boy by Helen Buckley…

 

 

 

Once a little boy went to school.

One morning, when the little boy had been in school a while, his teacher said:

“Today we are going to make a picture.”

“Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make pictures. He could make all kinds. Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, trains and boats, and he took out his box of crayons and began to draw.

But the teacher said: “Wait! It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready.

“Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.”

“Good!” thought the little boy, he liked to make flowers, and he began to make beautiful ones with his pink and orange and blue crayons.

But the teacher said “Wait! And I will show you how.” And it was red with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s. Then he looked at this own flower.

He liked his flower better than the teacher’s. But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over. And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red with a green stem.

On another day, when the little boy had opened the door from the outside all by himself, the teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.”

“Good!” thought the little boy. Snakes and snowmen, elephants and mice, cars, and trucks, and he began to pull and pinch his ball of clay.

But the teacher said: “Wait!” It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready.

“Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.”

He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some that were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said, “Wait! And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make a deep dish. “There,” said the teacher. “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish, then he looked at his own. He liked his dish better than the teacher’s. But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again. And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon the little boy learned to wait, and to watch and to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon he didn’t make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened that the little boy and his family moved to another house, in another city, and the little boy had to go to another school.

And the very first day he was there the teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” Thought the little boy and he waited for the teacher to tell him what to do.
But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.
When she came to the little boy she said, “Don’t you want to make a picture?”

“Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?”

“I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy.

“Why, any way you like,” said the teacher.

“Any color?” asked the little boy.

“Any color,” said the teacher.

“If everyone made the same picture, and the used the same colors, how would I know who made what?”

“I don’t know,” said the little boy.

And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

 

 

 

Ritual brings meaning; routine masks it…#DailyWritingChallenge

Ritual brings meaning, routine masks it.

 

I wrote a tweet about two weeks ago, just as I was immersing myself in the #DailyWritingChallenge, stating that the COVID-19 lockdown had confirmed what I always knew: that I love ritual but I hate routine. It caused a bit of debate in the Twittersphere.

 

I think our modern, secular, pre-COVID, self-obsessed, materialistic and scattered lives – dispersed amongst fragile, diverse and divided communities are based upon routine. Routine enables the economy, schools, corporations and – dare I say it – modern marriages, relationships and families to function. Routine gives us the structure and timetable we need to enable the functioning of a highly complex, globally connected, technologically advanced human civilisation. We have mostly transcended the religious and national rituals which enabled humans to spread like a virulent disease across the surface of our planet and chained ourselves, instead, with routine to preserve the systems and status quo of our perceived hard fought freedoms.

 

Time is the currency of routine. Time measurement was borne of ritual (dancing naked around a Stone Circle at dawn during the summer solstice for example) but it has shackled us with routine. Add in the invention of electricity and particularly electric light and we have drifted further from the roots of our ancient circadian rhythms, disconnected from nature and created an ingenious world of agriculture, industry, commerce, leisure, tourism and education.

 

Through our routine enabled ingenuity and predominantly urban cultures we have separated ourselves from our evolved, natural, interdependent and – arguably – far more mentally and emotionally stable state. Our ritualistic worship has shifted from the sun via a multifarious array of Gods, via organised global religions, to literal scientism, humanism and secular materialism.

I am broadly agnostic but I think our collective worship of power, money and nations is far more damaging than our collective rituals in churches, synagogues, mosques, temples, stupas, in our garden stone circle or at the foot of our favourite oak tree.

 

The materialism we have worshipped for nearly one hundred years has denigrated the rituals which brought our lives meaning in the first place. We strive for nebulous constructs such as fun, happiness, truth, wellbeing and mindfulness; we are governed by routine and the mirage that routine ultimately buys us freedom.

 

Take people’s routine away and they are lost. It is our normal. I know people very close to me whose inner purpose and being has become so masked by routine (whether work, holidays, social life or sport related) that chinks in their fragile mental health are turning into deeper cracks. We just take so much stuff for granted. We have been lured into our perceived human right to live healthily until we are 80+, to complete our bucket list and to dream of the freedoms bestowed upon us in our later years from the routine of our working lives.

 

Those of us, who have for some time looked upon the worshippers of routine with silent disdain, are perhaps slightly smugly revelling in our inner zen. I feel so much calmer without the commute, without the Monday break time meeting, without the you must have lunch at 1320 hours. Of course I miss hugging, people and spontaneous pints in pubs but I don’t miss the trivial routines which enable our fractured society to function.

 

I have been loving the ritual of a boiled egg for breakfast, with soldiers and coffee at no particularly fixed time. I have been loving the ritual of writing daily in the mornings and evenings. I have been loving walking and watching the rituals of nature bursting into life in Spring.

 

I love that the human constructs of a week, or of 9 to 5 (invented to enable the economy to function) no longer has any meaning.

 

My rituals remain but my routine is shattered and that makes me feel more free than I ever have.

This emotional life. #DailyWritingChallenge #Emotions

This emotional life.  By Toby Payne-Cook

 

I’m grappling with this; writhing in emotional knots. Despite all my egocentric, narcissistic desire to be regarded as a great thinker; or a wise, insightful scientist and teacher, I am driven by my feelings.

My feeling nature (as confirmed by Myers Briggs testing circa 2004, labeling me as an “ENFP” [extrovert intuitive feeling perceiving]) dominates. I wear my heart on my sleeve. In recent years, my emotional intelligence has become shrouded in cod philosophy but deep down I teach because I care about humans, I parent because I care about my children, I husband because I care about my wife, I son because my Mum needs me more than I need her.

I don’t teach because chemistry is the most beautiful, intricate and abstract of subjects. I don’t teach because of the teaching standards. I don’t teach to gold plate test scores. I teach because I care.

I don’t parent as a project. I don’t parent to control. I don’t parent to contain or keep by my side. I don’t parent my children to be who I want them to be, I parent them to be the best of who they are. I parent to nurture deep, everlasting, emotional roots. I parent to set free.

In other aspects of my emotional life, emotions are more complex. I’m a romantic who likes to talk about how I feel. I’m very reflective and sometimes brutally honest. Others are more closed, more consistent and easier to read perhaps but trapped, hard to reach, buried deep beneath the sheen of convention.

This is where my current turbulent and confused state of mind comes from. My need to express myself, to explain myself, to rationalise myself is channeled into my writing and my tweeting. It is my emotive escape from reality.

When teaching, work, marriage, life is distilled into a series of tasks and responsibilities it loses all meaning for me. Life, as painful as this can be, is feeling. Life is emotion. Life is pain and life is joy, all the scientism and vacuous chaff we fill it with a distraction from the deeper art of emotion.

Art, music and the best writing is driven by feeling; religion too, I think. I’ve had enough of science, maths, economics and politics trying to explain everything; I just want to run away into the joy of Spring and its fresh, energetic, pale, green leaves; or to hide amongst the anguish of Nick Drake or the uplifting melancholy of ‘I see a darkness’ by Bonnie Prince Billy.

To this end, I have started to write. To write fiction. I can’t draw, compose or paint but I can play with words; I can translate my emotions and hidden feelings on to characters, I can immerse myself in an emotional universe and hide away from the conformity, compliance and expectations of society. It is going to hurt. But it is going to find my internal truth. The truth of emotion, as opposed to the lies of convention.

I started my first book yesterday. The hidden emotions of our everyday lives will be a recurring theme through the book. I leave you with an early, experimental excerpt…

 

Luke returned to the only pew that contained another member of the congregation (can two people be described as a congregation)?   Having read the same lesson at his mother’s service of thanksgiving three years earlier, he welled up and placed himself down beside Zoe. He bowed his head and gently choked with deep emotion. A tear trickled down his cheek, the intensity of the recent past overpowering any specific, tangibly conscious thought.

He was overwhelmed by memories of Mum. The solemn, reflective mood of a funeral service exposes the dormant grief of previous loss. Luke sat up and inhaled deeply; failing to contain his emotive whimper, Zoe delicately placed her left hand on the inside of his right thigh. It stayed there for the briefest of moments but the warmth it radiated lingered as she tilted her head to rest tenderly on his shoulder.

 

Nurturing the gracious, fulfilled and purposeful adults of tomorrow…

Nurturing the gracious, fulfilled and purposeful adults of tomorrow.

#DailyWritingChallenge #Purpose

By Toby Payne-Cook

I have frequent bouts of existentialist angst. My existence from billions of years of beautiful, highly unlikely, accidents troubles me sometimes. Because I can think, dream, plan, wonder, hope and reflect – in contrast to my dog, a dairy cow or the sweet singing bird that woke me up this morning – I am prone to tying myself up in metaphorical knots about the apparent absence of purpose to my life.

 

Since humans have extracted themselves from the interdependence of nature, developed culture and created civilisations, religions, money, nations, corporations and schools; our collective purpose seems to be to keep on keeping on with these global society enabling forces which so rarely bring true meaning to our lives.

 

In today’s #DailyWritingChallenge on #Purpose I could wallow in defining my true purpose in life, or explore the multifarious and conflicting purposes of education in the minds of great thinkers of the 19th and 20th centuries, or consider how the COVID-19 pandemic has so brutally exposed the main purpose of school as places of safety, of refuge, of nutrition, of joy and – most importantly – as economy enabling centres, places where the children go while the adults go to work. Admittedly they are masquerading as educational establishments that can change the world but in reality they are sub-optimally funded cultural institutions drowning in politics with a lack of clearly defined and consistently agreed purpose.

 

I could wallow in the purpose of the teacher. And how most teachers don’t enter the profession for the purpose they end up pursuing. Did you really hope, as a dreamy 21 year old, that your love of Shakespeare, Sums, Science, Psychology, Symbolism, Settlement, Synagogues, Simile, Sport, Software engineering or Ancient Sumeria would be channelled into progress tracking, differentiated success criteria, book scrutiny or the warped, antiquated mind of a GCSE examiner?

 

Billions of words have been written about this stuff. Many more have been spoken. I know that many billions more will yet be written, including many by me – I’m sure, so instead of some more circular, navel gazing and forever inconclusive reflection on the purpose of teaching, schools or education I offer you my utopian vision for the purpose of the perfect school in my mind.

 

Most school vision statements are a catchy grab all, a back fill of sentimentality, some natty marketing chaff or – at best – a clever play on words, but words that have different meanings to different people. The opportunity to set out a purpose for a school, as the opening gambit and to build the school culture, curriculum, timetable and ethos around would be wonderful, don’t you think?

Below are my words; some background to them and some definitions of them. These words were written in 2016. Most of the words that were supposed to precede them were never written. If anyone out there likes these words, or this purpose for my idealised school of the future, then please do get in touch and let’s build a school, or a school system with the following purpose together:

 

To nurture the gracious, fulfilled and purposeful adults of tomorrow.

 

This proposal is deep rooted, radical and a completely fresh start for UK education. Most people who read it will have twenty million reasons why it will not work. It is not perfect, no education system or economic system can be. There has been no consultation, no discussion, no committee deciding upon the least worst option (the least worst option for all, rather than the best option for perhaps 80% of people is frequently where committee decisions end up), no compromises. I am under no illusions about this becoming a reality, but I thought I’d put it out there to provoke a reaction, to make you think and ideally form a baseline for a complete re-design and revitalisation of education in the 21st century.

 

This proposal is based upon the following seven principles:

 

  1. All humans are different in their intellectual, practical and physical characteristics.
  2. All humans are different in character, motivation and have a great variety of different talents and interests.
  3. Education should provide the opportunity for all humans to transcend the prejudices, politics and opinions of their family, their community, their nation, their religion and their economic circumstances. As Nelson Mandela once said, education is the most powerful tool we have to change the world.
  4. Education should primarily be for the benefit of those being educated; not for those working in, running or designing the educational establishments (i.e. schools) they are educated in.
  5. Education cannot and should not be distilled into measurable statistics. Pupils learn and progress at different rates: it is a marathon, not a sprint. Just because a pupil cannot do something aged 12, or aged 16; does not mean they will never be able to do it. And just because a pupil can do something aged 8, four years earlier than their peers, this does not guarantee any future purpose, greatness, glory or success in that individual.
  6. Education is the process by which a fully dependent human child becomes an open-minded, fully independent human adult. It can be broken down into digestible chunks, but those chunks can be different for different people and can be assimilated in a different order. Education is for life, not just for school.
  7. The purpose of education is to nurture the gracious, fulfilled and purposeful adults of tomorrow.

 

 

Most of the points above have been alluded to throughout the book, but point 7 requires some elaboration before continuing any further. In the modern human world, I think we can agree that if we do not find purpose in our lives we are likely to be unhappy with – or ambivalent about – ourselves, our family, our community and our broader existence on this planet. Everything must have a purpose, even if it is nebulous and abstract. Abstract art exists as a creative outlet from the mind of its creator, or as a medium to stimulate thought, insight or reflection in the observer. A joke exists to make us laugh, or to make us look at and perceive things differently from how we did before. Religion exists to bring tangible meaning, and a sense of belonging, to our lives (though we have established many other ways of bringing meaning to our lives without the need for religious or spiritual beliefs). Education exists for a purpose and it is the fuel that feeds our conscious mind. In the social animal by David Brooks, he demonstrates how it can also be the fuel that feeds our infinitely more important unconscious mind as well. So getting the purpose of education right, securing one’s vision of what education should be as a teacher, head-teacher, headmistress, headmaster, school governor, secretary of education or prime minister is a pretty fundamental starting point.

 

Nurturing the gracious, fulfilled and purposeful adults of tomorrow.

 

First of all, what is not in there? There is no mention of grades or qualifications. There is no mention of sporting or artistic achievements. There is no mention of mindfulness. There is no mention of economics or money or religion or nationality. There is no mention of the past or the present. There is no mention of children.

For education to work, it needs to start in childhood; however it is not about nurturing them as eternal children in a Peter Pan world of fun lessons and edutainment, just keeping them busy, occupied and engaged, so their parents or carers can have a rest, or go to work; no – it should be about far more than that. It is fair to say that a pre-requisite for education to work, is that children need to be happy, so ensuring they are not unhappy is important. They also need to be engaged, so ensuring they are not disengaged is also important. While happiness and engagement underpin successful education, they are not the purpose of education. So let’s address each part of the vision:

 

Nurturing. Not developing, or creating, but nurturing. We cannot all develop the same skills to the same level of ability. We cannot make something out of nothing, but we can all build upon our natural genetics to grow into a complex modern human body and mind. Our nature is merely a base level template with a range of pre-programmed genetic propensities upon which everything is layered by nurture. Nurture starts in the womb, accelerates rapidly immediately after birth and is fundamental to both our emotional and cognitive development. Schools should carry on where homes stop. Of course we can nurture in different ways, but essentially nurture can be regarded as the process by which we seek to bring out the best in people. Nurture enables us to identify and develop our abilities, skills and talents. Perhaps the best way to describe nurture is as nourishment for the mind; it is therefore integral to any form of quality education.

 

Gracious. From the dictionary: kind, winning; polite to inferiors; elegant; refined; merciful, nobly forgiving; good. Advancement, development or growth is worth nothing if we cannot be kind to others, to show appreciation for others’ support and kindness and to strive to work harmoniously with others. Humans are social animals and our interactions with each other are a major force in shaping ourselves; no human is an island and graciousness is an important tool that enables us to be the best we can be. Grace is an essential part of growing into a decent, well-mannered, co-operative and collaborative human being: a team player. Someone who believes that together we achieve more, rather than relentlessly pursuing our own personal goals and actions.

 

Fulfilled. If we are fulfilled, we are happy. The best way to find fulfilment is to identify your natural skills and talents, to nurture and deploy them regularly in your life: in either our personal or professional lives. To engage in activities or work that does not fulfil us is a recipe for discontentment at best, depression and anger at worst. Education should be all about identifying what makes us happy, what skills we have and finding an outlet to pursue them. If this is through our work and careers it is an almost guaranteed recipe for success and lasting happiness; if it is a hobby that fulfils us most deeply, then we need to find work which enables us to pursue that hobby as frequently as possible. In childhood, it may not be possible to directly identify what fulfils us most but education should be able to provide a route towards it. Education should also highlight to children the power of fulfilment, of people doing what they love; and conversely showing children examples of people who behave in a way that suggests they are not fulfilled.

 

Purposeful. Education should not be about making everyone in to Oxford dons, doctors, lawyers or teachers. It should be about finding a path for us that allows us to establish a sense of purpose in both our personal and professional lives. Realistically, not everyone in every job in the world can have a deep sense of purpose in what they do, however one hopes that their job can provide a link to their true sense of purpose – be it raising their family, pursuing their musical or sporting talent or time to carry out volunteering work for a charity. Developing a sense of purpose in what we do with our lives is the greatest way of developing meaning in our lives. We all need a mission, a purpose, a reason to get out of bed in the morning. Establishing our own personal sense of purpose (and not just mirroring our boss, our spouse, our partner, our employer) is probably the most important aspect in our life. While raising a family, having fun, being happy and praying for world peace are all noble aims; they are actions and actions that cannot possibly consume our whole lives – we need a deeper purpose behind those aims, for purpose is the driving force behind a fulfilling human existence.

 

Adults. Yes adults, not children. For this one, we need to remind ourselves of the purpose of education; or certainly the origins of education for all, of why education exists in the first place. Education was, and still is, the mechanism by which we produce independent, functioning adults for the benefit of global society, national security and local community. At the dawn of education for all, this was to provide a competent and capable workforce during the industrial revolution. While teachers should aspire to make learning fun and engaging, it is not possible to make every task in life enjoyable.   Children now believe that every maths lesson, every French lesson, every learning experience should be fun – this is a consequence of their constant over-entertainment at both home and school. If children were to structure school their own way it would be a mixture of a theme park, a leisure centre and an amusement arcade: an adrenalin rush of excitement and activity. In the long term I think we would all tire of such quick fixes, and the world as we know it would crumble and collapse. So when we teach children about algebra, photosynthesis, impressionist art or philosophy it is not for them today, it is for what they might and hopefully will become: the gracious, fulfilled and purposeful adults of tomorrow.

 

Tomorrow. Not today and definitely not yesterday. Education prepares us for the future, for tomorrow, whatever it may bring. Education is a long drawn out process, with no obvious end point. Tomorrow never comes, but we must ensure that we are all ready for it just in case it ever spontaneously decides to arrive…unfortunately our current education system seems to prepare us quite well for yesterday.

 

The big, old, oak tree. #DailyWritingChallenge #Growth

The big, old oak tree by Toby Payne-Cook.

 

When I hear the word growth, I think of Mrs Gren. Mrs Gren was my first teacher and she is hard to forget! Seriously, Mrs Gren is hard to forget because she isn’t a teacher at all (well she might be, and if she is, I hope she teaches biology and I’d really like to meet her), she is a mnemonic:

 

M – movement

R – respiration

S – senses

 

G – growth

R – reproduction

E – excretion

N – nutrition

 

MRS GREN lists the seven life processes carried out by all living organisms. She differentiates between your pet lab rat and the cage it lives in; between me and the computer I’m writing on and your perfect lawn and the mower which maintains it.

 

In these times of COVID-19 it is worth pausing to consider whether a virus can be classified as a living organism. Microscopic bacteria and single celled protists such as Amoebae and Euglena definitely meet all seven criteria as they can asexually reproduce and replicate themselves via the cell division process of mitosis, but a virus cannot reproduce on its own – it is just a bundle of genetic material (DNA and RNA) inside a protein coat and contains very little of the complex biological machinery of living cells, so it needs to invade a living host cell to assist with its efficient and sometimes deadly self replication.

 

For deeper exploration of whether a virus is a living organism, or not, the link below takes you to an informative article in New Scientist online.

 

https://www.newscientist.com/question/are-viruses-alive/

 

I think we can all agree, without a shadow of a doubt that humans are living organisms. My favourite description of a human comes from the popular BBC sitcom, outnumbered: “Humans are just animals wearing clothes, pretending not to be animals.” There is a lot of hidden meaning in that flippant observation.

 

In September 2019 we launched a new Year 7 & 8 (KS3) curriculum unshackled by the droning old syllabi of the antiquated Independent “Common Entrance” examination at the school I teach in. In Science – with the (unfortunate) need to underpin foundations for future, content heavy, GCSE study – what we teach has not dramatically changed but the sequence of what we teach, how we teach it and how it is assessed has changed dramatically. For me, the most exciting change has been coming up with a termly theme, an umbrella for various linked KS3 science topics but also a medium for deeper and broader contextual exploration of science in modern society from a historical, cultural, philosophical and an ethical perspective.

 

So, this academic year, for the first time in Year 7, I taught a theme called “Humans and Machines” in Science, which was also the theme in DT, Computer Science and Art – or “STEAM.”

 

The first thing we did was explore definitions of what a human is (and I append 18 different, possible, 50 word definitions of my own at the end of this piece), inspired by that compelling outnumbered quote.

 

After that we used MRS GREN as our guide but in a different sequence. We largely skipped the S for Senses because I cover that at the start of Year 5 before launching into Sound, Light & Space.

M for Movement (skeleton & muscles & exercise etc) is a good place to start as it is so relatable; then respiration and excretion combined with the circulatory and respiratory systems and movement in and out of cells by diffusion.

 

Then onto nutrition (including food groups, diet and healthy living) due to its obvious links back to respiration and excretion and then forward to GROWTH. After growth we climaxed (excuse the pun) with some reproduction before exploring a little bit of genetics, DNA, inheritance & variation – linking back to senses right at the end in considering “what makes me, me?”

 

In the Growth subsection of the topic we started with the fertilised egg cell, the zygote, then the embryo, the fetus and the placenta. Then we considered the four stages of human life: Childhood, Adolescence, Adulthood and Old Age before more deeply exploring changes during adolescence and the difference between adolescence (transition from child to adult physically, emotionally and mentally) and puberty (purely the physical changes which occur as part of adolescence).

 

We also explored some ideas from David Brooks, the New York Times columnist, who categorises modern human life into six stages – below I insert a previous passage of writing about this (taken from “The Accidental Scientist”) which fuses together today’s theme of growth and tomorrow’s of purpose rather nicely:

 

With hindsight, I greatly envy those who are natural academics. Those who – from an early age – have their heads in a book, who read a great variety of both fiction and fact; those who happily spent most of their university life in the library, or engaged in debate with peers, tutors and lecturers; those who absolutely relish learning for learning’s sake; or education to become educated. Our school system, examination system and university system is designed for them. The whole one-dimensional treadmill, glorious if you are a focussed academic, is based on the linear supposition that we can all become Oxford dons, should we wish to. I am quite drawn back into this life, now that I am close to finding my true purpose in life: to research and identify alternative and more engaging paths through science education – perhaps even for education as a whole – for a greater proportion of the populous. But back in my early twenties, I was – as indeed are the majority of people – quite happy to piss all that opportunity up the wall.

            On one hand this is incredibly wasteful, this squandering of schooling and university that many of us have done; while on the other hand it creates a shared sense of life experience: our gossip, our social connections, our communication skills, and our characters were all honed in whatever melting pot of madness we pursued between our formative early adult years of 16 and 24. David Brooks, the New York Times columnist and author of two wonderful books, ‘the Social Animal’ and ‘the Road to Character’, has spent quite a lot of time researching and trying to understand the importance of the unconscious mind throughout our learning, our life experience and the ultimate success we make of it – both from our perspective in our ‘resume or CV virtues’ and others perception of our success as human beings in our ‘eulogy’ virtues. They make insightful, enlightening and thought-provoking reading. In the Social Animal, he categorises modern life into six stages from the original four that our ancestors encountered. Our ancestors experienced childhood, adolescence, adulthood and old age. We (hope to) experience childhood, adolescence, odyssey, adulthood, active retirement and old age.

            Childhood, adolescence, active retirement and old age speak for themselves. Odyssey and adulthood require some explaining. Adulthood can be defined by parenthood (the act of being responsible for dependents) and, or, financial independence – when we can stand on our own two feet in this complex world, without being financially dependent upon our parents or carers. Adulthood, by the above definition, doesn’t occur until our late twenties, our thirties or even our forties for some of us in the 21st century. So, by definition, Odyssey bridges the gap between adolescence and adulthood, which can be anything from a stretch of two years to a stretch of twenty years. Typically, Odyssey – the act of ‘growing up’, finding our purpose, and developing responsibility for others beyond our individual self – lasts from the age of 18 – 30.

While I have been financially independent since I was 24, married since 28, and a parent since I turned 30; I still feel like I’m on an odyssey through life – a constant voyage of discovery, a journey with a whole series of unpredictable paths ahead. I rather like this concept of odyssey as the fourth stage of life, and as a teacher I would certainly encourage the children I teach to spend a lot of time finding out who they are, developing self-awareness, finding out what they are good at, what their purpose in life is and what avenue, or avenues they want to pursue before locking onto a path that does not enrich or fulfil them. This is much harder to do than it sounds and for most of us adulthood is something that happens without any planning, any strategic thought and many of us end up feeling trapped by a path we didn’t choose.   This book is all about my scientific odyssey: about how I found science by accident, how I ended up being quite good at it, how it has enriched, fulfilled and frustrated me in equal measure; and why I am now embarking upon a new odyssey: my odyssey of passing on the scientific baton; and of trying to find a better way of passing on that baton. As I document my scientific odyssey, I may find that how we pass the baton on; how we teach and what we teach is not really that important, as – probably – what really matters is that we all experience our own odyssey in our own way – beyond school and university, in spite of the academic sausage machine we are all so reluctantly forced through!

 

So much obvious physical growth occurs during adolescence which is mostly complete by 18, conveniently now the official school leaving age. This strongly infers we are adults at 18. As children and young teenagers, we like to think this is true. Yet we now know – through recent developments in neuroscience and cognitive psychology) that our brains, our mental adolescence is not complete until we are about 24. We tend to calm down a bit by our mid twenties, evaluate risk better (drive more carefully, stop gorging on mild narcotics and kerb our enthusiasm for all day, every day drinking) and fall out of love with crap, transient, pop bands and whims of fashion.

 

The association of adolescence with being a teenager has long pissed me off, as we are rarely fully adult until – at least – our mid twenties. Here, perhaps the ancient Babylonian counting system in base 12 (our current 24 becoming our twenty, and thus the true end to our “adolescent” teens) could be more truthful and helpful.

 

The link of post teens to adulthood, or leaving school to adulthood, I find deeply problematic.

 

But do we stop growing at 24? Do we heck! Most of us know very little about life at 24 because we haven’t experienced very much of it.

 

This is the problem with growth, most of it is invisible. I feel like a far deeper, richer, more learned, wiser human aged 47 than I did at 27. I am perhaps a lot more cynical and curmudegeonly than I was back then but I have grown intellectually, culturally, morally, experientially hugely throughout my adult life. This internal, personal growth feels so much more a part of me than the generic organ, musculoskeletal and educational growth I encountered throughout my childhood and schooling.

 

This leaves us with the analogy of a big, old, oak tree:

 

The early growth is obvious, with the tree getting bigger every year for several decades. But then it reaches its genetic and environmental optimum size and remains largely the same (on the outside) for potentially hundreds of years. Its internal wisdom grows while its exterior starts to crumble, bits fall off and perhaps some limbs start to wither and fail.  But my what a journey that big, old oak tree has travelled.

 

It has experienced long periods of dormancy, just pending time, not learning, not doing but resting and replenishing for the rush of energy ahead. Then the next Spring arrives, creative energy explodes in the form of delicate, fresh, pale green leaves – those ideas become greener, more hardy, stronger and the tree is bustling with life, full of energy and wisdom, thrusting its power up into the light. The energy fades again, many storms are weathered, bits are broken but the core remains strong and then the process repeats itself year on year: each storm slightly different, each period of growth irregular and not the same.

 

When the tree finally dies, all its growth is left behind – the energy transferred to others. Its legacy, its wisdom, its energy passed on.

 

And if we analyse its growth we will see that it wasn’t linear. Some years it was slow, under nourished perhaps, or tired and disinterested. Other years it grew exponentially, accelerating with verve and vigour in all directions; a great swelling of tree wood wisdom, becoming stronger and more admired in the process.

 

And perhaps, most importantly, throughout all its intricate and sturdy growth, it remains deeply rooted to the soil; the roots grow deeper and more connections are made. Its roots make it stronger and help it to grow.

 

So remember your roots, your family, your loyalty. For they help you to grow.

 

Tomorrow growth will be channelled into purpose and my (educational) purpose is to create a bottom up educational system, particularly in science education from aged 7 – 14, to replace the clunky, divisive top down, exam orientated system of today.

 

We would do well to remember that it is the root which grows first when a plant germinates, and that the big, old oak tree has grown bottom up, up into the light. It has not grown down from the sky.

 

 

 

Appendix: 18 possible (scientific – ish) definitions of a human…

1) A human is made of mostly oxygen, carbon, nitrogen and hydrogen atoms. Atoms join into simple molecules like water, glucose or amino acids. They form larger molecules like proteins, which can assemble into living cells. Cells form tissues that form organs, then organ systems that form the living human. (50)
2) A human is a type of living organism. All living organisms carry out seven life processes:   Movement, Respiration (the process of releasing energy from sugars), Sensitivity (responses to stimuli in the environment), Growth, Reproduction (making new life), Excretion (getting rid of waste) and Nutrition (food or photosynthesis). (47)
3) A human is a complex living organism which takes in food and oxygen; gives out waste products such as carbon dioxide and urine. It is classified as a hominid, within the order of primates, class of mammals, the phylum chordata (vertebrates, or animals with a backbone) and the animal kingdom. (50)
4) A human is a mammal; an advanced class of animals that evolved from birds and reptiles about 100 million years ago. Humans are descended from apes, their last common ape ancestor lived about 6 million years ago. Humans (homo sapiens) like you and me first appeared about 300,000 years ago. (50)
5) Humans walk on two legs and have two arms (four limbs combined).   They have an internal skeleton (endoskeleton) for support, protect internal organs and aid movement.   Humans have body hair, two eyes, two ears, one mouth and some other bits depending on whether you are a boy or a girl! (50)
6) Humans can be old, middle-aged or young. Young humans are called children. Young children are sometimes called toddlers; before becoming toddlers humans are called babies. Unborn babies are called a foetus. Before the foetus develops a human shape is it an embryo. The embryo develops from a fertilised egg cell. (50)
7) Humans change a lot throughout their lives. David Brooks in a book called “The Road to Character” classifies modern humans into 6 stages: Childhood; Adolescence; Odyssey (finding yourself and working out who you are!); Adulthood (financial independence or having children); Active retirement and Old age. (46)
8) Humans are highly intelligent beings. While cephalopods (e.g. octopus) pigs, dogs, dolphins, monkeys and apes can be described as intelligent beings, so far as we know, humans are the only species who realise they are alive; who can – as Descartes said – “I think, therefore I am.” They can think. (49)
9) Humans are conscious beings. Since discovering the use of fire (and cooking) and the making of simple tools, their brains have expanded massively in comparison with other mammals.   They have developed language, maths and invented music, art, stories, religions, nations, money and science to try and make sense of everything. (50)
10) Humans have developed culture. Culture is history, art, literature, science, religion, customs and traditions.   Culture is the foundation and continuation of civilisation. Culture gives humans a sense of belonging; shapes human interests, politics and economics. Cultures are rich and wonderful yet “everywhere man is in chains.” – Jean Jacques Rousseau 1762. (50)
11) Humans are ingenious inventors. They have discovered fire, language, medicines and distant planets. They have created writing, art and music. They have invented tools, maths, wheels, farming, the printing press, steam engines, electricity, the chemical industry, motorised vehicles, computers, space travel and the internet. (44)
12) A human is a learner. Babies can only scream, sleep, drink and poo! It takes a year to learn to walk; two years to talk; after that their brains are like sponges sucking up knowledge. There is no limit to how much a human can learn.   If they want to. (50)
13) I am human. I am virtually identical to you. I have some DNA in the nucleus of every one of my 300,000,000,000,000 cells. It stores my genetic code. 98% is the same as a chimpanzee. 99% of my genome is the same as yours. Just 1% makes us different. (50)
14) You are a human. You are a product of your environment: of where you grow up, how rich you are, where you go to school, how you are spoken to, of your childhood experiences. Decisions you make, and others make for you, make you who you are. (47)
15) A human is a machine, containing thousands of miles of pipes filled with liquid. They contain a pump. Each cell is a perfectly tuned microscopic chemical factory. Their muscles and bones work together as a biomechanic robot.   Their brains contain neural networks more complex than a computer circuit board. (49)
16) Humans are social animals with a natural instinct to connect with others: to develop friendships, fall in love; to form tribes.   As civilisation developed their social instinct has driven them forward while overcoming it in armies, churches, classrooms, meeting rooms and sports fields has been key to their success. (50)
17) A human is an animal wearing clothes, pretending not to be an animal.   Through all the culture and technology humans have developed, many of them have forgotten they are part of nature, part of the rich tapestry of all life on this beautiful planet. (44)
18) A human is a selfish, destructive creature that has fallen out of love with nature and fallen in love with its own self importance. A human wants more and more. It takes but rarely gives. It shows little gratitude, kindness or appreciation. It destroys the environment and ultimately, itself.   (49)

 

 

 

The inextricable link between Loyalty and Freedom. #DailyWritingChallenge #Loyalty

The inextricable link between Loyalty and Freedom.

 

Yesterday, I revisited some extensive writing about the freedom of my childhood and how, I believe, that freedom to explore, to wander and to imagine has nurtured my innately curious, open-minded and creative nature.

 

As a highly independent free thinker, the human constructs, culture, convention and routine of modern life (childhood, marriage, mortgage, parenting, employment, school) can sometimes feel like they are eroding my freedom of thought, freedom of movement, freedom of expression and that they are stifling my nomadic dreaminess; my fuck you spontaneity.

 

I keep quoting Rousseau, but man really ‘is born free yet everywhere he is in chains’. In dark, reflective, self-obsessed or frustrated moments my nomadic dream swells into a potent force in my mind. I think – bollocks to it – I’m moving to Devon, I’m going to sit and write and walk and dream.   But I can’t because I have a lovely wife, I have a wonderful family, I have a job and – subliminally – I have a conservative, middle England very comfortable existence to preserve. When it comes down to it, I don’t want to leave that behind, to risk everything I know and love for some selfish, creative – no man is an island you daft fool – dream.

 

My desire to break free from those Rousseauian chains is trumped by loyalty. Loyalty trumps freedom.

 

I am blessed to have found my wife. We’ve been married twenty years and we share in three wonderful children, two dogs, a lovely home, a beautiful garden, an old Land rover and a mutual love of the countryside, of our green and pleasant land and of farming and our respective agricultural ancestry.   I irritate the hell out of her, yet, I cannot think of anyone else who would tolerate me any better.

 

Amanda’s relentless doing, her busyness, her love of team sport, her club mentality, her astonishing efficiency, her single-mindedness, her complete lack of interest in indulging my errant dreaminess irritates the hell out of me. Yet, I love her to the end of this world: her solidity, her consistency, her relentless energy; her decency and kindness to others – all a joy to behold.   It is our fierce independence which challenges us but deep down, deep beneath our very different veneers there is a loyalty which binds us, a loyalty which gives us the freedom to be ourselves, to explore our own pursuits. Ironically, it is our loyalty to each other, our loyalty to the richness of the family and home life we have created together which gives us the freedom, the freedom to wander, to dream, to write, to do 20 hours of online Pilates a day. Loyalty gives us the freedom to be, or to do.

 

If freedom is borne out of loyalty then loyalty is borne out of love.

 

In writing about the freedom of my childhood, I was reminded of the deep loyalty enabling it. My mother and father gave me such freedom as a child that I have remained loyal to my Mum. We have argued deeply and incessantly over the years. We disagree on politics, on newspapers, on many things but we agree on freedom of expression and freedom of choice. If I had not been so deeply, unconditionally loved as a child and had not been given so much freedom I am sure my loyalty would have been weaker. Through all the family shit of the last 30 years my freedom is a consequence of the love-induced loyalty of parenthood. Our trust, our care, our freedom it all comes from loyalty – and that loyalty comes from love.

 

There is not much I’m loyal to. I’m loyal to my Mum, my Amanda, our kids, our dogs, to the Hartland peninsula, to Devon, to Pembrokeshire, to Blur, the Rolling Stones, Wilco and Neil Young, to the National Trust, to Landy, to ancient byways, to village pubs, to music festivals and to a few other family members and a handful of friends.

 

The word loyalty has been corrupted by corporations and politics. I am not loyal to a supermarket which uses its so called loyalty card to market things at me, to make more profit, to make me spend more rather than less. I am not loyal to money or religion or politics – entrenched constructs and imagined realities which enable the modern world but have no specific loyalty to me. Loyalty must be mutual for it to have meaning.

 

Sometimes I’m loyal to work or an employer. But only if that employer shows loyalty to me, loyalty to my unique human tapestry; if I’m a number, a budget, an indispensable robot then I’m sorry but you are not getting my loyalty because loyalty is borne of love, mutual respect and kindness; not borne of balance sheets or performance management targets.

Loyalty is a big, old oak tree. It takes years to grow and can weather many storms.

Loyalty is borne of love and it buys us the freedom to be ourselves, to be the best we can be;

Thank you loyalty, for all you – subliminally – do for me. xx