Month: October 2016

the secret myth revealed

~ steve.ridgley ~ Leave a comment

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You know when you’re looking for wifi and a whole host of wifi networks appear on you phone or tablet?

So, the other day, one appeared called ‘Hidden wifi’.

Not so hidden then!?

A few days ago, standing outside Pennsylvania Avenue, amongst the crowds, there were a dozen Secret Service operatives.

Is that what they’re called? Operatives? Or have I seen too many films? Agents maybe? No that’s definitely films.

Anyhow, the thing that struck me was, they were all wearing a vest, on the front of which were the words SECRET SERVICE. Capitalised and boldly displayed. Not so secret then?  If it says what you do on your t-shirt.

We like secrets. More though when we can reveal them. “Have you heard…?” “Did you know…?” Knowing a secret is in itself a currency we value.

What’s that about?

the ministry of free wifi baptists

~ steve.ridgley ~ Leave a comment

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A squint was called for.

Surely it didn’t say that?

“A ministry of free wifi baptists”?

The illuminated sign, beside the steps leading to the building, had the expected proclamation associated with the building’s function; urging, as it did, passers by to heed God’s word. Above that communication, and below its ministerial name, was this strange subtitle.

Now, a few steps closer, all was revealed. As was a small chuckle. To self.

“A ministry of free will baptists”

Strange how our expectations and understanding of what we are seeing are shifted over time. Our presumptions coloured by the language of the day, not those of yester year. Our interpretation directed by the values of that time. Free will lost to the modern vernacular of free wifi.

A sign of the times, or a sign from above?

Something lost and something gained perhaps?

I chuckled again.

 

off the grid in a hot tub

~ steve.ridgley ~ 1 Comment

North Carolina

Watching the sun set through a gap in the tree line, whilst enjoying a beer in a hot tub. Rocking gently in chairs as old as the cabin, whilst the twilight and sounds of the forest consumed our awareness. The porch our new domain. Waking in the morning to the sounds of rainfall on the tin covered cabin roof, echoing through the silence of our isolation.

I have spent two days, off grid. No 4G, 3G or 2G, no wifi, or signal of any description.

It seemed strange and in contrast to a few days earlier in the Washington DC metro where, on a platform of maybe fifty people, I had counted only six who were not engaged with their mobile phone.

We live in an Internet world. So much so, that to be without it for only two days seems unfamiliar. As if something is missing. It seems frustrating because connection with the outside world is lost. Yet what is rediscovered is a connection with a different outside world. One of nature, contemplation, beauty.

The cabin had a visitor book, where many before us had recorded their message after their stay. A book. Even that a throwback to a time recently lost. Not an online feedback or comments page, no star rating or ‘liking’. Instead personal messages to our host. Many had recorded their enjoyment of the isolation and total peace.

There was something pleasing to write our thoughts, knowing that other travellers would happen by, to this cabin in the forest, and read and share with others past, present and future.

time to turn around from a scene not seen?

~ steve.ridgley ~ Leave a comment

Lincoln's address

Ten years ago, it would have seen a very different picture.

People congregating to admire perhaps the greatest President – the saviour of the Union. Or, maybe they would be amassing merely to gaze upon the art; the fine alabaster sculpture of Abraham Lincoln, cosseted in a columnar temple looking out to Capitol Hill.

Except now, more than half of these people are facing the wrong way. At least, facing the wrong way to look directly at the statue.

For now, unlike a decade ago, the adopted mode of recording your presence is the ‘selfie’. And so, half of the people are looking away, beaming at their mobile, posing, pointing, pulling all manner of faces. Alone, or with companions peering over an appropriately framed shoulder.

It’s an odd sight. Half looking towards, half looking away.

Maybe the ‘selfie’ posture accurately reflects the passing of time? The past appropriately behind us, looking back. As if looking in a mirror at what has gone before, whilst our bodies, and eyes, face out to the future?

There was a time we recorded photographically the thing, the place, the view. However, it seems to me that instead, in this ‘selfie’ age, what matters most is the subject in the foreground. The self. Me. I. The grinning, posing photograph taker. I am, in this moment, more significant than the history that preceded me. More relevant than the beautiful scenery behind me. More important that the place, the environment, the location.

We share these pictures to showcase first and foremost our expressions, our poses, our facial creativity, our friends, not to show off the backdrop.

I wonder what metaphor this is, for our future? Not observing the wonder around us. Instead, the preoccupation with looking at ourselves. Not deeply. Not into our soul, or our very being. But looking at our superficial, surface selves. Sharing these with others. Competing with others. Even now, we photoshop them with filters. To remove reality. To remove blemishes.

Maybe we need to face reality again? Maybe we should turn around more?

Maybe that would be a decision on the scale of those Abraham Lincoln once took?

where does the unseen go?

~ steve.ridgley ~ Leave a comment

illuminateddandelion.com

Are yawns passed on from person to person?

Do yawns travel the globe; as people of all nations, all creeds, succumb to the inevitable copying of the yawn they have just observed?

Are yawns like a Mexican wave? A chain reaction? Passing across humanity like an unheard scream?

How many are there? How many are travelling from person to person at any one moment? How many open mouths and deep breaths are currently occurring, right now?

And, what happens if a yawn is unseen? Does the yawn die?

Do yawns only continue to exist in this world because several people seeing a single yawn will replicate it, twin it? Maybe twinned yawns compensate for dying yawns? Maybe this is how the yawn species survives? Clever.

 

living life in a train cupboard

~ steve.ridgley ~ Leave a comment


Sometimes, we’re ingenious.

I spent the night and all day yesterday in a cupboard.

I shared my cupboard too. So not technically mine, more ours.

In our cupboard, which is six foot by three foot, we have two beds, two armchairs, a table with integrated chess board, two cup holders, a flushing toilet, a sink with three taps, liquid soap, face flannels, mirror, air conditioning and thermostat, a five foot window with curtains, a sound system, power sockets, a storage shelf, a ‘trash’ can, another storage shelf, a rail with hangers, five lights and no fewer than nine light switches.

Most cupboards are lucky to get one – light switch.

Welcome to Amtrak and their viewliner roomette. Our home for 23 hours. The best cupboard ever.

It’s cleverly designed to fit a lot into a small space. Through our sliding door and adjacent window (also with curtains), across the corridor, is another cupboard home for two fellow travellers. Twelve cupboard homes per train carriage.

Typically, we don’t pack that much into our lives. We don’t design things so ingeniously. We don’t make a lot fit into who we are, so that we can be authentic and true within the confines of self; authentically us, but equally expansive, broad, learning, growing, experiencing, maximising life.

Being our absolute best version of us, ever.

when the mocha is identical, but not the same…

~ steve.ridgley ~ Leave a comment

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This facade was familiar, if a little unsettling. The colonial look unexpected, but befitting the environment of the town and surrounding shops. On entering though, the internals were reassuringly recognisable, for that particular coffee shop brand.

Feeling safe and on solid ground, I approached the young man behind the counter. “I’d like a tall salted caramel mocha please.” I said.

He politely and cheerily replied “Sure sir, I just need to let you know we’ve run out of the usual syrup, so we’ll put in another one. But it’s identical.” He punched some buttons on his display, already in slick, automated drink delivery mode.

“No it’s not.” I said.
“Not identical.”

He paused, holding a cup, looking a little taken aback – possibly not used to a challenge, or to my English humour? He looked a little less certain, but meekly offered, “It normally has toffee nut syrup in, but we can put hazelnut in instead. It tastes just as good.”

“But not identical?” I offered

“No.” he conceded, before asking me my name, to write on the cup which would soon contain my ‘similar’ salted caramel mocha.

The other day I ordered a chilli (chile?) mocha. Medium, this time. The girl taking my order asked, “Hot or cold?”

“That’s sophisticated.” I grinned.

She looked puzzled.

“…to offer different varieties of chillies?” I said.

She laughed. “I meant do you want a hot drink or a cold one? … That’s good though.” she muttered, grinning widely.

Pedantic? Maybe?

I like to think I engaged this young man and woman in some banter. Something to add a little spice to the daily grind of latte, cappuccino, chai tea…

A little variation, a little change, a new reflection, a new awareness, a smile. All good ingredients for drinking in life.