Wake up!

Speaking of dreams within dreams, I have just re-read a potentially life-changing little book called Lucid Living by Tim Freke (yes, it's pronounced 'Freak'). The essence of this book is to suggest that our experience of everyday reality is, itself, much like a dream. In a dream, we are typically blissfully unaware that we are dreaming. We get caught up in the dramas of our dreamworld, and it is only when we wake up do we realise that we had, in fact, been dreaming!

Unless, that is, you are having what is called a 'lucid dream'. In a lucid dream you know that you are dreaming. And then, once you're aware that you are dreaming, you can even consciously control the dream.

Lucid living applies this idea to our waking experience. If your experience of everyday reality is like a dream, then you can 'wake up' in the dream and live your life more consciously. Mr Freke calls this state of consciousness being 'deep awake'.

Now, I don't know about you, but the idea of lucid living really strikes a chord with me. There have been maybe one or two times in my life when I have felt to be in this 'ultra-conscious' state that Freke calls being deep awake. In this state, the world just seems to be a very different place, and life does seem to resemble a waking dream. I guess the challenge is to find ways of achieving this state of awareness on a more permanent basis.

Dreams within dreams

Saw Inception last night. An astonishing film. Christopher Nolan is possibly one of the most amazing directors in Hollywood today. Without giving too much away, the film is based around the notion of being able to go into people's dreams to steal or implant ideas.

 
I was more taken with the way it used dreams within dreams to carry the story along. If you haven't seen the film, click here for a choice of 3 (count them, three!) different Inception trailers. Then go see it! If you have seen the film, but you're still scratching your head this illustrated guide to the film might help clear things up (a bit).

So long, and thanks for all the fish!

When you watch something like this, you've got to think that the dolphins are just toying with us...



As I typed the title of this post, I discovered I had also used it for a post last year! (The one where I announce my decision to leave my job.) Given that Douglas Adams' original use of the phrase was with reference to dolphins, it makes a lot more sense here.

The life you could have led

Having seen this cartoon by Leunig many years ago, the image has stuck with me. It says so much. But what stops him walking down that brightly lit alley...?

It's not about the monster

There can't be many people who could be towed along the surface of Loch Ness in a giant inflatable bubble and call it 'work'. Steve Feltham can.

I first 'met' Steve 18 years ago. Well I didn't actually meet him, but I felt I did. In August 1992 I watched Steve's video diary that was broadcast on BBC 2. The diary, called Desperately Seeking Nessie, followed Steve's first year as he set out to be a full-time Loch Ness Monster hunter. Yes, you read that correctly, a full-time Loch Ness Monster hunter. For many, the idea of even being a part-time monster hunter may seem a little surreal, but Steve wanted to do it full-time. At the age of 28 he decided to pack in his job, sell his house in Dorset, and end a seven year relationship with his then girlfriend in order to move up to the banks of Loch Ness to search for the Loch's legendary monster. Steve had been fascinated with Loch Ness and the monster that may or may not live in its murky depths ever since he was taken there on holiday as a kid. Since then he had been back several times and had even spent a 3-week holiday at the Loch on the look out for Nessie, weighing up the idea of giving up his job to do it full time.


At the time I first saw Steve's video diary, I was 22 years old and I'd just completed my degree at Liverpool Polytechnic. After 3 years' of student-dom, I was now living back at my parents' house in sunny Macclesfield. And, to be perfectly honest, I was pretty depressed. Not that there was anything wrong with my parents' house. Or even Macclesfield. It's just that I hadn't really expected to move back there after my student years, you know? So Steve's video-diary of how he took control of his life and followed his dream of becoming a Loch Ness Monster hunter came at an important time in my life when I was wondering what I might do next. It was an inspiring tale of realising that it is up to each of us to decide what we want to do with our lives and then having the courage to set about doing it, no matter how crazy it might seem to some people. (And let's face it, monster hunter has to be right up there towards the top end of the crazy scale!) In fact, one of the scenes from the video diary that stuck with me for many years was the shot of Steve driving off in his van (actually an old mobile library) in the direction of Scotland with the song Life's What You Make It by Talk Talk playing.

Over the years I had occasionally wondered if Steve had stuck it out. Was he still spending his days staring out over the waters of Loch Ness hoping to see something that would prove that he wasn't wasting his time? Indeed he was. His website, www.haveyouseenityet.com and a couple of clips on YouTube confirmed that he was still there and still making and selling little clay models of Nessie to help fund his research.

And so, during the 'summer' a couple of years ago (I use the word loosely here, as I think the summer lasted for little more than an afternoon) I decided to go and visit Steve. If nothing else, I wanted to be able to tell him how I had found his video diary inspiring and something I still remembered to this day. I dragged Rachel and Freya with me (not literally, Rachel shared the driving, Freya didn't have much choice) and we made a holiday out of it.

When we arrived at the Dores Inn car park, it was busier than I'd expected. The car park beside the pub on the banks of the Loch is where Steve has resided for the last 12 years or so, ever since the converted mobile library that is his home became, well, not so mobile. From this vantage point, Steve has an unparalleled view down the length of Loch Ness.

"It never ceases to amaze me, the wonderful and bizarre things I get involved in doing which I never would have done otherwise," Steve tells me when I ask him about his life since he'd decided to become a full-time monster hunter, "just the other day this gang turned up and covered this whole beach with a huge great polythene bubble, which they pumped up to become this 35-foot high plastic clear pyramid!". It turned out to be for a stunt to advertise Scottish Blend pyramid tea-bags, but at the last minute they decided to involve Steve, "they said, right, we're getting the Inverness paparazzi out tomorrow to do a photo-shoot with this giant tea-bag, but what would actually be better is if we could put a monster hunter inside it and tow him around the bay! So the next day, I'm getting towed around, and it was great because you're stood on this plastic skin and suddenly it becomes like a glass-bottomed boat so you can see all sorts of debris that's lying just out here. So I could tick that off as work!". I wasn't sure what surprised me more. The fact that Steve could call this work, or that there was an Inverness paparazzi.

Steve also told me about his friend who has built floats on to the base of his microlight aircraft so that they can go flying up and down the loch, "...which again in a way is monster hunting because you can look down into the water. And it's bloody great fun whilst you're doing it!"

But as we continued to talk about Steve's decision to become a monster hunter all those years ago, I noticed that we talked less and less about the monster, and more and more about what it means to follow a dream. In fact, that was the reason I had wanted to meet Steve. Personally, I wasn't that bothered whether or not there is a monster in Loch Ness, but Steve was. In fact, it was his passion. It was his dream to spend his life as a monster hunter and be the one to get conclusive evidence that Nessie was for real. But he was equally passionate about getting across the idea that, no matter what your dream is, you should do whatever you can to follow that dream. Even if it is as bizarre as looking for the Loch Ness Monster.

At the end of Steve's video diary he concludes, "This isn't just about hunting for a monster, but about having a dream and following it. It doesn't matter if people say you're mad, if you don't go for it one day you may say, 'well, I wish I'd done that when I'd had the chance'. If you don't follow your dreams, the only person who loses is you."

_____

Steve's video-diary, Desperately Seeking Nessie, can be viewed online here. 

The title of this post alludes to the title of cyclist Lance Armstrong's autobiography It's Not About The Bike. I was lent this by a friend at work about three years ago, and I still haven't read it. I think it's because I have a sneaky suspicion that a big part of it is going to be about the bike.

Flowing home

As we leave the hotel to head home after a fantastic holiday, Mesuda, the hotel's owner tells us not to worry that they are throwing water alongside the taxi-cab. "This is a Turkish custom", she explains, "which means 'may your journey be as smooth as water flows'". I liked that.

Too good to be true

Yes, there are places in the world where even Bradford is considered exotic...

Ten years younger

They also say that when in Turkey you should have a Turkish Shave. At least if you are a man. As it turns out I am a man, and I am in Turkey. So a few days ago I had a Turkish Shave.

I chose the friendliest-looking barber shop, which we had walked past several times on our way to and from the town. He enthusiastically waves us in, and offers us tea. I had read in the guide book at the hotel that the Turkish are especially proud of their hospitality and that it is considered rude not to accept tea when offered. So we accept. We drink tea as we watch the World Cup on the television. Portugal are beating North Korea 4 goals to nil. As we sip our tea, Portugal score a fifth.

Eventually, the barber gestures for me to lay my head back and the shave begins. He applies a smooth coating of shaving cream to my face, taking care to ensure that there are no gaps. Then the razor appears. Now, my concern with the cut-throat razor is, and always has been, the name. Cut-throat razor. I would have thought the last thing you want to be reminded of about a razor is what it is capable of doing when it is in the wrong hands! Fortunately, this particular razor is in the right hands as he deftly scrapes away the three or four days' worth of stubble that I had been growing in preparation for today's event. My face now feels as smooth as the rest of my body had felt after the hammam the day before. Anywhere else, and you might think that was the shave over with. But not in Turkey. Noticing that Rachel was looking a little warm while sipping her tea he picks up some lemon spritzer spray and sprays her face to cool her down, before doing the same to me. Next, large cotton-bud type things are dipped in lighter fuel and set alight. These implements are used to singe away any unwanted (and, no doubt, unsightly) ear-hairs. I didn't realise I had any, but I definitely feel them singe as they are gotten rid of.

At this point, by way of advice, my barber gestures to the cafe next door to his shop. "Omar's...", he says, "dirty. Don't go there." We hadn't planned to, but I had wondered why there had been a large picture of Omar Sharif in prominent place at the front of the cafe. I assumed it might have been because Mr Sharif himself had once eaten there. I doubted this now, especially if he'd been to this barber first. As I turn to look in the direction of the cafe, I notice the man turning the kebabs on the grill. He bears a striking resemblance to Omar Sharif. "Is that...", I begin to ask myself, but I stop myself. Of course it isn't. As we ponder over the dirtiness of the neighbouring cafe, and as I silently ponder the fate of Omar Sharif, North Korea concede a sixth goal.

As I turn back to look into the mirror ahead of me, I am taken aback by the sudden appearance of the tips a sharp pair of scissors at the end of my nose. He is now removing unwanted (and, no doubt, unsightly) nose-hairs. "Massage?" he asks. Before I can respond he is massaging my shoulders and arms. At one point, he even gets out a large electric massager to run across my back. The offer is extended to Rachel, who gratefully accepts her part in the proceedings. Meanwhile, Omar next door continues to turn kebabs in his decidedly empty cafe, and Portugal put a seventh goal past the Koreans.

"You look ten years younger!" the barber assures me, as we prepare to leave. I smile and ask him how old he thinks I look. "Ooh, 35?" he ventures. I give him a thumbs up, as though to indicate I am happy with that assessment. Not surprisingly, he takes my gesture to mean he has guessed correctly. "Yes, same age as me! 35!". I am surprised. I would have said he was nearer 45.

As we walk away, making sure not to make eye contact with the man in the neighbouring cafe, I feel thoroughly refreshed. And I feel confident in the knowledge that no unwanted (and, no doubt, unsightly) ear or nose-hairs are causing any offence. It then dawns on me. If he thought I looked 35 after my shave, and the shave made me look ten years younger, then he actually thought I was probably around 45.

Oh well, same age as him, I suppose. Same age as him.