It is Christmas morning, once again. One of those days when every other Christmas seems to join with this one, making one continuous whole back to the beginning of time.
I seem always to wake early on Christmas day, perhaps a habit from childhood.
And the first thought to pass my mind is the quiet of the world.
Even the wind this morning is notable for its absence.
A blanket of quiet warming, and yet like snow holding the world in thrall.
Of course there is reason for the quiet, in many cases people have gravitated to family, it is after all almost the purpose of Christmas Eve to be the time when everyone is busy with last minute shopping.
And then, the quiet. The pause of much bustle. When even our thoughts can cease to think of too much beyond the moment, the significance of this day. And what it has meant in our culture for so many centuries.
It is perhaps the only day when such quiet blankets the world. Or at least, our world.
The absence of traffic, of people in the streets, it is almost as if should it be
Spring, we should hear the unfurling of leaves from their buds.
But it is not Spring, not in this hemisphere, and we are comfortable in our warm homes. And thoughtful for once about those that may not have the comforta that we can afford.
And so it is a time for consideration, for thoughtfulness, and for celebration of what we have and why we have it.
I am humbled at the quiet of the morning, so present, though it must be like this each day. Although I do not perceive it such.
Perhaps it is that much more important that we should not be so aware of every day as if it were like this, for then it should not seem so special, when it is this day.
And we have had the opportunity to think all of our thoughts for this moment in time, when it is what it is.
For some of us the centre of our spiritual selves, for many simply a festival of shopping.
But for all, a time when time itself seems to stop, and then to start again. Something the poet TS Eliot called the still point of the turning world.
Tuesday 24 December 2013
Saturday 21 December 2013
My Best Ever Christmas Present
Everyone will have their own answer to this question.
My answer came just the other day, courtesy of Kindle.
It is a simple fact that publishing has been transformed by the Internet, and self publishing no longer carries the same stigma that it might once have carried.
Although doubtless much that is published without the intervention of a professional publisher will be in serious need of some proper editing. And certainly could do with the marketing expertise that comes with the territory.
I for one am at one with the majority of people, that still foresee that genuine books, made of paper, and often smelling of age, will never be superseded by the electronic book.
Although it certainly does democratize the whole process of publishing.
Before I discovered the world of publishing for the Kindle, I had discovered the world of publishing using the Internet, and the technology that enables books to be printed when purchased.
There are disadvantages of this, not least of all the fact that the printing of such books has much to learn from the crispness of old fashioned typesetting.
As someone that in a previous life did learn how to operate an old offset lithographic printing press, I speak from personal experience of the joy to be gained from that magical process, whereby ink is transferred from a metal plate to paper.
However, the Kindle exists, and a new market for words, and for the reading of them, which is a skill that should be encouraged in every possible way.
And so, it is possible these days to download an application that enables most computers and no doubt any other kind of handheld device that operates in the same way that a computer does.
So that they can read this kind of book, which is really no more than the capacity to read a PDF document.
And of course, such devices make it possible for large numbers of written works to be portable, and therefore read, in those moments in busy lives when it is possible to stick one’s head in a book. However unlike a book the device on which the written word is carried.
The Christmas present that I referred to earlier was my first ever payment in respect of a Kindle version of my own writings.
It’s not the kind of money that will suddenly transform my life, and in any case, I am not in a position to earn income, as I am severely disabled, and therefore supported through benefits.
I am therefore precluded from personally benefiting from the industry of my pen, which is how I still imagine my writing to be generated, even though the truth is far from this.
For some time now, I have been unable to hold a pen, nor even use a typewriter or a computer keyboard.
But as this is the age of the Internet, it is also the age of assistive technology, and I am able to type much faster than I ever could, through the use of voice activated software.
About five years ago, I received a small award from the Arts Council of England, in respect of my poetry.
And thus any income earned from my poetry, will be gifted to a local charity, the Queen Alexandra Hospital Home for soldiers, in Worthing.
One of my six or seven books is a special edition of my first collection of poetry, entitled 50 x 50: Useful Poetry For Troubled Times.
Although paper copies of this collection can be purchased direct from the Hospital, Kindle versions can also be purchased.
And as it is Christmas, it is not too late for this kind of present to be downloaded from the Internet, with payment being made in any of the usual ways.
As I have only just completed the complicated Google tax information, so that my Kindle bookshelf is now available for sale across the world of the Internet, any purchases can be made at just a moment’s notice.
I dare say that all that will be required is to search the Kindle store for my name, Stephen Page, and to find the correct person that is me.
The title of my first collection of poetry should be unique enough to enable my books to be identified. The other volume that I will mention by name is my collection of short stories, Mother And Child With other stories.
If my motives were simply to line my own pockets, I don’t think I would be so brazen in my suggestion that people reading this blog might consider purchasing any of my publications.
It is fortunate that the Kindle bookshelf offers the fraternity to read significant parts of any volume offered for sale, and anyone that is a member of Google Prime can borrow before purchasing free of charge in any case.
And so, this is my challenge. I have already had that first moment of excitement at receiving a portion of the purchase price, which I shall be passing on as I will any other payments from this source.
But it is nevertheless truly exciting to earn money in this way, and it would be most exciting for me to have others reading my work across the world.
My answer came just the other day, courtesy of Kindle.
It is a simple fact that publishing has been transformed by the Internet, and self publishing no longer carries the same stigma that it might once have carried.
Although doubtless much that is published without the intervention of a professional publisher will be in serious need of some proper editing. And certainly could do with the marketing expertise that comes with the territory.
I for one am at one with the majority of people, that still foresee that genuine books, made of paper, and often smelling of age, will never be superseded by the electronic book.
Although it certainly does democratize the whole process of publishing.
Before I discovered the world of publishing for the Kindle, I had discovered the world of publishing using the Internet, and the technology that enables books to be printed when purchased.
There are disadvantages of this, not least of all the fact that the printing of such books has much to learn from the crispness of old fashioned typesetting.
As someone that in a previous life did learn how to operate an old offset lithographic printing press, I speak from personal experience of the joy to be gained from that magical process, whereby ink is transferred from a metal plate to paper.
However, the Kindle exists, and a new market for words, and for the reading of them, which is a skill that should be encouraged in every possible way.
And so, it is possible these days to download an application that enables most computers and no doubt any other kind of handheld device that operates in the same way that a computer does.
So that they can read this kind of book, which is really no more than the capacity to read a PDF document.
And of course, such devices make it possible for large numbers of written works to be portable, and therefore read, in those moments in busy lives when it is possible to stick one’s head in a book. However unlike a book the device on which the written word is carried.
The Christmas present that I referred to earlier was my first ever payment in respect of a Kindle version of my own writings.
It’s not the kind of money that will suddenly transform my life, and in any case, I am not in a position to earn income, as I am severely disabled, and therefore supported through benefits.
I am therefore precluded from personally benefiting from the industry of my pen, which is how I still imagine my writing to be generated, even though the truth is far from this.
For some time now, I have been unable to hold a pen, nor even use a typewriter or a computer keyboard.
But as this is the age of the Internet, it is also the age of assistive technology, and I am able to type much faster than I ever could, through the use of voice activated software.
About five years ago, I received a small award from the Arts Council of England, in respect of my poetry.
And thus any income earned from my poetry, will be gifted to a local charity, the Queen Alexandra Hospital Home for soldiers, in Worthing.
One of my six or seven books is a special edition of my first collection of poetry, entitled 50 x 50: Useful Poetry For Troubled Times.
Although paper copies of this collection can be purchased direct from the Hospital, Kindle versions can also be purchased.
And as it is Christmas, it is not too late for this kind of present to be downloaded from the Internet, with payment being made in any of the usual ways.
As I have only just completed the complicated Google tax information, so that my Kindle bookshelf is now available for sale across the world of the Internet, any purchases can be made at just a moment’s notice.
I dare say that all that will be required is to search the Kindle store for my name, Stephen Page, and to find the correct person that is me.
The title of my first collection of poetry should be unique enough to enable my books to be identified. The other volume that I will mention by name is my collection of short stories, Mother And Child With other stories.
If my motives were simply to line my own pockets, I don’t think I would be so brazen in my suggestion that people reading this blog might consider purchasing any of my publications.
It is fortunate that the Kindle bookshelf offers the fraternity to read significant parts of any volume offered for sale, and anyone that is a member of Google Prime can borrow before purchasing free of charge in any case.
And so, this is my challenge. I have already had that first moment of excitement at receiving a portion of the purchase price, which I shall be passing on as I will any other payments from this source.
But it is nevertheless truly exciting to earn money in this way, and it would be most exciting for me to have others reading my work across the world.
Monday 16 December 2013
First Steps
It is already that time of the year when our lives begin as it were to flash before our minds eye.
It is as if we are caught on an escalator, raising inexorably upwards, and no matter how fast we walk, we cannot return to the place from where we set off.
It is now just a week before Christmas, and inevitably, the holiday season will have us in its thrall.
For many people, this is the time of the year when we will feel most alone, although for many of us, we will be surrounded by people. Friends and family.
But nevertheless, Christmas inevitably leads to the close of one year, and the beginning of another.
And no matter how good or bad this year has been, we will certainly harbour thoughts about the coming year.
It has even been the case that one of the most successful stocking filler presents over recent years has been that which can be purchased as a last minute thought whilst standing in a queue waiting to pay for Christmas presents purchased in that store.
Whatever it has been called, more often than not, it has been a short reminder not to panic.
And panic is probably what most of us will be doing at some point over the next few weeks.
But most of us will find a way through, and we will confront those things that are sometimes at the forefront of our minds, mostly pushed firmly to the back of them.
In some respects, this has been exercising me as the last few days, and I have been reminded of how each year I have somehow managed to survive. Most of us will.
But this year, perhaps more consciously than ever, I am entering the fray with some semblance of a peaceful countenance.
I think the only way in which I can explain this is that I have paused to think, and given myself time to think a little about all those moments when I have most stressed myself.
And of course, survive I have, but we are capable of learning, and perhaps, under pressure, developing strategies for survival, just when it seems as if all is lost.
One simple phrase has been repeating itself to me, and I am not sure exactly how to translate it so that it becomes relevant to this period of time.
And I am not even sure where the original of my memory comes from, but most people will be familiar with it.
It is simply that a journey of 1000 miles begins with a single step, and I suppose I have been wondering how this might be expressed as a measure of time.
Something like a year will begin with a single day, or with a single moment of resolution.
However this either confronts you, or however you will find a means of surviving, the problem is an ancient one, requiring that we can reinvent ourselves again, to continue the lives we have made for ourselves, or at least adjusting the one that we have made so that it fits us more comfortably.
And so, good luck and my heartfelt good wishes for the Christmas season, whatever it means to you, and however it finds you.
It is as if we are caught on an escalator, raising inexorably upwards, and no matter how fast we walk, we cannot return to the place from where we set off.
It is now just a week before Christmas, and inevitably, the holiday season will have us in its thrall.
For many people, this is the time of the year when we will feel most alone, although for many of us, we will be surrounded by people. Friends and family.
But nevertheless, Christmas inevitably leads to the close of one year, and the beginning of another.
And no matter how good or bad this year has been, we will certainly harbour thoughts about the coming year.
It has even been the case that one of the most successful stocking filler presents over recent years has been that which can be purchased as a last minute thought whilst standing in a queue waiting to pay for Christmas presents purchased in that store.
Whatever it has been called, more often than not, it has been a short reminder not to panic.
And panic is probably what most of us will be doing at some point over the next few weeks.
But most of us will find a way through, and we will confront those things that are sometimes at the forefront of our minds, mostly pushed firmly to the back of them.
In some respects, this has been exercising me as the last few days, and I have been reminded of how each year I have somehow managed to survive. Most of us will.
But this year, perhaps more consciously than ever, I am entering the fray with some semblance of a peaceful countenance.
I think the only way in which I can explain this is that I have paused to think, and given myself time to think a little about all those moments when I have most stressed myself.
And of course, survive I have, but we are capable of learning, and perhaps, under pressure, developing strategies for survival, just when it seems as if all is lost.
One simple phrase has been repeating itself to me, and I am not sure exactly how to translate it so that it becomes relevant to this period of time.
And I am not even sure where the original of my memory comes from, but most people will be familiar with it.
It is simply that a journey of 1000 miles begins with a single step, and I suppose I have been wondering how this might be expressed as a measure of time.
Something like a year will begin with a single day, or with a single moment of resolution.
However this either confronts you, or however you will find a means of surviving, the problem is an ancient one, requiring that we can reinvent ourselves again, to continue the lives we have made for ourselves, or at least adjusting the one that we have made so that it fits us more comfortably.
And so, good luck and my heartfelt good wishes for the Christmas season, whatever it means to you, and however it finds you.
Wednesday 4 December 2013
Feed The Birds
Like so many people, I love the Mary Poppins film.
Not so the original author of the Mary Poppins books, PL Travers.
I am looking forward to seeing the recently released film that is based upon the differences between Walt Disney and PL Travers, Saving Mr Banks.
Having viewed a recent short documentary from the BBC about this forthcoming film, it has reminded me how much I love the section in the film where the old woman feeds the birds outside St Paul’s Cathedral.
This is a haunting song, and perhaps few people will realize exactly who it is playing the role of the Old Woman.
At the time of filming, she had been retired for a couple of years, and was living in a retirement home for actresses.
It seems that this was one of the few scenes in the film that PL Travers approved of, and Jane Darwell, the daughter of a railway president, born in 1879, began making films only when she was in her 30s.
Her name was changed from Woodward, perhaps because her family so disapproved of her working as an actress.
Walt Disney so wanted to cast her in this role that he personally visited her in the nursing home where she was living, and she was ferried backwards and forwards to filming in a limousine, just to sweeten the deal.
It is of course her last film role, and although we might not remember many of her numerous other roles, she was the winner of an Oscar for an Actress in a Supporting Role in 1941, In The Grapes of Wrath.
She also had a part in Gone with the Wind, in 1939, and her full list of films is very lengthy.
She has a Star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and though her part in the film is a small one, I cannot help feel that it is a pivotal one, providing a real sense of what Mr Banks, the father of the two children at the heart of Mary Poppins, fails to see right in front of his nose.
Although it is a lullaby, in the film, and perhaps could easily be simply passed over and forgotten, it is for me one of the most memorable tunes from this extraordinary film.
At the time of its release, in 1964, it became the most successful Disney film at the Oscar ceremony, scooping five Oscars.
It has been one of the most successful films financially for the Disney Corporation, so that they have named one of their technical companies after it, MAPO - in other words, Mary Poppins.
Strange how one small element in the story of a single film can link to serve many other films.
But then, I suppose that is the nature of Hollywood, that it is ultimately a small community in California, albeit with the capacity to encompass the world.
Not so the original author of the Mary Poppins books, PL Travers.
I am looking forward to seeing the recently released film that is based upon the differences between Walt Disney and PL Travers, Saving Mr Banks.
Having viewed a recent short documentary from the BBC about this forthcoming film, it has reminded me how much I love the section in the film where the old woman feeds the birds outside St Paul’s Cathedral.
This is a haunting song, and perhaps few people will realize exactly who it is playing the role of the Old Woman.
At the time of filming, she had been retired for a couple of years, and was living in a retirement home for actresses.
It seems that this was one of the few scenes in the film that PL Travers approved of, and Jane Darwell, the daughter of a railway president, born in 1879, began making films only when she was in her 30s.
Her name was changed from Woodward, perhaps because her family so disapproved of her working as an actress.
Walt Disney so wanted to cast her in this role that he personally visited her in the nursing home where she was living, and she was ferried backwards and forwards to filming in a limousine, just to sweeten the deal.
It is of course her last film role, and although we might not remember many of her numerous other roles, she was the winner of an Oscar for an Actress in a Supporting Role in 1941, In The Grapes of Wrath.
She also had a part in Gone with the Wind, in 1939, and her full list of films is very lengthy.
She has a Star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and though her part in the film is a small one, I cannot help feel that it is a pivotal one, providing a real sense of what Mr Banks, the father of the two children at the heart of Mary Poppins, fails to see right in front of his nose.
Although it is a lullaby, in the film, and perhaps could easily be simply passed over and forgotten, it is for me one of the most memorable tunes from this extraordinary film.
At the time of its release, in 1964, it became the most successful Disney film at the Oscar ceremony, scooping five Oscars.
It has been one of the most successful films financially for the Disney Corporation, so that they have named one of their technical companies after it, MAPO - in other words, Mary Poppins.
Strange how one small element in the story of a single film can link to serve many other films.
But then, I suppose that is the nature of Hollywood, that it is ultimately a small community in California, albeit with the capacity to encompass the world.
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