Dreams, and their reasons.

 I dream of University years a lot. I did it last night. There doesn't ever seem to be an external impetus for dredging up these thoughts: it's something which has been internalised. My uni years were really a story in two parts. Firstly, the opportunities which I seized, which would come to define my life. i learned how to be a DJ, met all of the bands who passed through the colleges and clubs, and made friends and contacts throughout the musical community. Little by little, I was moving towards some sort of career where music would play a part. 

But also, it's a three-year period marked by academic underachievement and disappointment. I never worked, never stretched myself. I never applied my mind to my studies, and that's always a source of regret. Could it be that? Could it be those regrets that still bubble up and bother my subconscious?

Moonlight thoughts

 I love that shot - the moonlight pouring in through the patio window. The light really was like that; there were no filters. Around 10.30pm. 

There I was, looking out at this magical landscape, thinking about time again. I've been obsessed with the idea that time is cyclical (something I know I've referenced before in this blog), but a recent dip into a book about Zen has refined my thinking process. I've narrowed it down to the tension between duality and unity. The thought that the duality of our location in a simultaneous past and future can be anchored by the unity of a grounding in the present. The power of that sudden explosion of perfect stasis, an acceptance of one's current position. 

All of that whilst looking at moonlight on a rug. I love how (without being too tautological) that moment can be truly momentary, yet that's its greatest impact. 

And even more!

 Marmalade wasn't enough. 

Today I made Semolina. With jam. Bloody hell, it was great. 

I'm now listening to Aberfeldy, and I'm just a little overwhelmed at how wonderful they were. I love music when it does this to me; it fills me with a sense of wonder and thanks. Still, it's bewildering to think that I first heard them exactly twenty years ago. The same timespan as this blog. Life stretches out around me, I'm forever thankful for it's marvels. 

More nostalgia

I'm sitting here with memories flooding over me. The Met line was a massive part of my life when I lived in Hatch End. That's partly in terms of the sheer volume of journeys I made, but it's also about how those journeys opened the city up. The Metropolitan felt unique to me, a bridge from the suburbs to the centre of London. The carriages were different to other lines, as well. Because the journey time from places like Amersham or Rickmansworth could be over an hour (or more!), the seats were in transverse blocks. It gave the impression that you were embarking on an adventure, settling in to watch the countryside change from fields to houses to the cut-and-cover of the centre of town. It was in contrast to other lines, some of which you passed on your way to Baker Street. You would take the fast line from Wembley Park down to Finchley Road and pass Jubilee Line trains dawdling past Neasden or Dollis Hill. These looked and felt like city-centre tubes but out in the open. A series of stops in a constant, unbroken line. Whereas the Met line would be powering on, past it all. It felt like a way to unlock the city whilst maintaining your place far from it in a suburban Idyll.