Muse

Another poem for your delectation this week. The reason for this choice kind of speaks for itself when you read it. I think. 

Muse

Some of my poems are meant to amuse

Others are to express the blues

Some are in hope that romance woos

Some are even fuelled by booze

But there's a fallacy I'd like to abuse

As it's assumed that I can choose

The inspiration that I will use

But I know no way to choose a muse

What do you mean, what am I thinking about? I'm wondering where I left my clothes!

A smile can sometimes light the fuse

And start an impulse I can't refuse

From a fleeting touch a poem ensues

(Some can even come in twos)

A word, a phrase, the daily news

A sparkling insight as I snooze

A niggling thought that festers and stews

Can cause the words to flow and ooze

So step back now, protect your shoes

This isn’t just some elaborate ruse

I merely wish to not confuse

And at the very most simply bemuse

Bear in mind these are only my views

I’m looking neither for boos or coos

I write down the words so I don’t lose

The ability to distinguish between who’s and whose

“You’re a hack”, some may accuse

And heaven knows there’s many clues

But please, I have an ego that’s easy to bruise

And my indulgences I ask you excuse

For I know no way to choose a muse

Is there anybody out there?

I think we’re all agreed that the universe is a big place. Huge. A lot of people think London is pretty big, but let me tell you, the universe is bigger. I mean, it’s fairly easy to cross from one side of London to the other over the course of a day, but Google Maps does’t even cover the universe, it’s that big.

So, if it truly is so vast, are we the only ones in it? If not, why haven’t we heard from anyone?

The answers are: highly unlikely, and the laws of physics.

Do you have any idea how long this fringe takes to get right? It's not logical.

Let me expand. 

The universe that we can see contains billions and billions of galaxies. Each of those galaxies contains billions and billions of stars. That’s a lot of stars. This we know.

Now, the likelihood of each of those stars having a planet or planets that can sustain life (in any form) is rather small, but let’s crunch a few numbers and see what we come up with. Don’t panic, I’ll do it, you can just watch. 

I’m going to use some made up numbers, but this is purely for illustrative purposes, to give you a flavour of the scales that we’re dealing with.

Say we had a nice round number of 100 billion galaxies. That’s 100,000,000,000 galaxies (we’ll use the american version of billion, for the pedants out there).

Now, they're all different, but let’s say that each of those galaxies had a nice round number of stars each. Let’s use 100 billion again. Working that out means that in the observable universe there would be 10,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 stars.

If we now say that only one in every 100 thousand of those had a planet orbiting it that was capable of supporting life that still leaves 10,000,000,000,000,000 cosy, warm planets.

Then let’s say that only one in every 100 thousand of them had actually developed life. That’s 10,000,000,000 bubbling cauldrons of life.

Only one in every 100 thousand of them has a life form that rises to sentience without getting wiped out by either themselves or some natural disaster? Ok, well that still leaves us with 10,000. For those still with me that’s 10 thousand versions of sentient life out there! Beings that have self awareness and methods of communicating abstract ideas - I gossip, therefore I am, that sort of thing. Beings that can look up at the stars and wonder what's out there. Beings like us.

Please remember, these are numbers I have plucked randomly from the ether and I have chosen easy to work with figures so as not to challenge my meagre mathematical skills. In reality the numbers may be vastly bigger, the variables may be wildly different and I may have over-egged the scarcity of life in the universe, but I hope this gives you some idea of how ridiculous the notion is that we are alone. 

So why haven't we heard from them? (For the conspiracy theorists and UFO enthusiasts out there, consider this: if aliens had made it to our planet already, why would they keep it secret? If they have the technology to cross the distances between the stars there is little to no possibility that we would pose a threat to them. Do you hide from ants?) The answer is that the laws of physics as we currently understand them make it very difficult. 

Nothing can travel faster than the speed of light, so meaningful communication over the distances involved is impossible. The light of the sun takes around 8 minutes to reach us and that's right next door. On galactic scales light is quite pedestrian, so what we're seeing now is the past, in every direction. Unless somebody can challenge the well-tested laws that Einstein showed us and discover some way around the speed limit of the universe then any conversation is going to be very, very slow.

Let's say that there is another civilisation out there, only 200 light years away (a light year is the distance light will travel in one earth year - extremely close as far as the universe is concerned). It's capable of sending and receiving the sort of messages we're talking about. To them we will simply be another little white dot in the night sky. They will not yet have any idea that we are even here as the first time we sent any powerful signals into the void is only in the last century. If we had sent it 100 years ago, at the speed of light, it would still only be half way there! They'd receive it in 100 years, send a reply, and we'd know there's someone listening after another 200 - the year 2314 by our calendar. Who wants to take first watch?

What if they're more advanced than us? Better technology, hundreds of years ahead of us? They've been broadcasting for a long time already? They are still (as far as we know) limited by the same laws of physics. The chances of anyone being close enough for us to yet see it are ridiculously small (astronomically small, some might say), and even then their transmitter would have to have been pointing in our general direction in the sky and powerful enough to not get lost in the background noise from the rest of the cosmos.

As for ships crossing the void? The amount of time it would take to get here means it would have to be a very important trip to head this way, as that's quite an investment in every respect. Seeing as we didn't wake up and shout hello until recently it's probably unlikely we'll be seeing Mr Spock any time soon. There would have been no reason to explore this star system up to this point as, apologies, our sun is pretty average in the scheme of things. We're out on the edge of one arm of the Milky Way, hidden by our mediocrity. We're the second cousin of Jar-Jar Binks on the stage of the galaxy.

So, are we alone in the universe? I doubt it. Will you or I ever get to shake tentacles with someone from another planet? I doubt it. Will we, should we, keep trying? Hell yeah. I for one would love to try a Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster.

A final thought. You are special, don't ever let anyone tell you differently - there's only one of you. You are an extremely rare anomaly in this wondrous, unimaginably huge cosmos that we live in. But you are also part of something. Look up at the stars. We may not ever get to talk to the beings that are out there, but isn't it amazing to think that somewhere among all that emptiness someone might just be looking back?

After you...

Let's talk about courtesy. 

After you. 

No, please, I insist.

Oh, ok then, I'll go first, as long as you're sure? Right then.

Courtesy is defined in the dictionary as: 

1. excellence of manners or social conduct; polite behaviour.
2. a courteous, respectful, or considerate act or expression.

I'm a big fan of courtesy. I believe that if we were all more courteous in everyday life then the world would be a far better place. It's the acts of unselfishness, the thinking of others, that raise us above the animals. Some would equate it with altruism, but I think that goes too far. I don't do it for no reward. I do it for the look of recognition or appreciation that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside and because it's how I would like to be treated. When I hold a door for you I am not saying that you are better than me. As it says above, it's about respect and consideration, and if I can't show that to others then why have I any right to expect it myself?

"Ah, the old glue-on-the-doorhandle gag. Thank you, darling. How funny."

But let's get back to that look of appreciation. I need that. I need to feel that my respect has been noted. Courtesy is a two-way street, an exchange, and if the recipient doesn't take part then why the hell should I bother? Let me give you an example.

I travel to work by train. Every day I tend to get to the station around 10 to 15 minutes before the train is due to leave. I don’t like to rush and the train usually arrives early and sits there for a while, so this gives me plenty of time to get on and find a seat. I have a spot on the platform where I stand every day (yes, I’m that sad) that corresponds to a point on the train that usually has a number of empty seats, and when I arrive I’m usually the first to be standing at this end of the platform. Recently, I had been waiting for about 10 minutes when the train pulled into the station. People had arrived around me and kept an appropriate distance (we’re British - avoid eye contact and don’t get too close), whilst at the same time acknowledging that I had been there first by standing slightly farther back than I. It is our way. But just as the train was coming to a stop a woman came striding down the platform and positioned herself directly between myself and the train door without so much as a glance. She then barely allowed passengers time to alight before she stepped on and took the most favourable seat.

Now, as I said, I’m British, so I did the only thing I could do in this situation - I said and did absolutely nothing, but gave a very stern rant about her to my colleagues later in the day. Ooh, how her ears must have been burning!

This incident annoyed me and is probably the reason I’m writing on the topic now. What annoys me is not the fact that she got on first, because the chances are that I’d have played the gentleman and given her the nod or a smile to indicate that she should go first. It’s that she assumed that it was her right to get on first.

It left me wondering if she made that assumption because she was a woman. Did she see that I was a man and conclude that I had less of a right? Was it because she had been shown courtesy so many times before that she felt it was automatically going to be offered?

If the latter was the case then she did me the disservice of not playing her part in the ritual, of not making it an exchange. She effectively made a gesture that was rude and that in turn caused me to be less courteous to others during that day because I was so put out.

And, before you start, courtesy is not something that I reserve solely for the female of the species. I’m just as likely to hold a door for a man as I am for a woman. Courtesy should not have a gender bias (although in practice it seems to) or an age bias, it should be something that every human being offers to every other human being. It’s a way of saying “I’m civilised”. Similarly, every person that has a door held for them, or an ‘after you’ gesture made to them, should be able to acknowledge that fact, even if only in a very small way. That’s a way of saying “I see that you’re civilised. I appreciate that”.

I know that we’re all busy people, we all have places to be, but an act of courtesy is a thing of a moment and does not cost us anything. It can sometimes be the one good thing in an otherwise horrendous day. It can raise a smile in the recipient and lift us when we see that smile. If every person performed just one act of courtesy every day, think what a pleasant time we would all have.

So, go forth and be courteous, and if someone shows you an act of kindness, however small, acknowledge it. Be part of the exchange. Make them feel it was worth it.

Go on. After you.

Train

A little early this week, but it’s a bank holiday weekend and I’ve got places to talk to, people to go. I’m even dusting off my golf bats for the first time in a while, so I apologise in advance if you get hit by any long range divots.

I started my writing sessions at the beginning of the week writing about how I didn’t know what to write about, but the irony slowly began to confuse even me and I had to abandon it before my head exploded… Don’t get me wrong, I have a long list of topics I wish to inflict upon you, but none were getting the juices flowing at the time. Normal service shall resume next week. I may even one day post the writing about not writing, if I ever finish it. Good luck understanding it. Think of it as a kind of Sudoku of words - they’re all there, you just have to put them in the right order for it to make sense.

So, my post this week is in the form of a poem. I have many poems to my name, the majority about emotions, in one form or other, but I had an urge to do something a little more mundane, or grounded. What could be more mundane than the daily commute to work? Oh, and in case you haven’t realised it yet from the title of the post, I commute by train. 

I wanted to write something that would perhaps raise a smile, or an eyebrow of recognition. Long distance train passengers (trainers? trainees?) may even weep, huddled in a corner.

train

stand on the platform 

in the same spot every day

standing in the sun and rain

and whatever comes their way

wait for the train to come

to whisk them ‘cross the land

waiting wishing hoping

that they won’t have to stand

watch the same grey faces 

staring into space

watch the personalities

vanish without trace

become the huddled masses

breathe the same stale air

become the tired commuter

grumbling ‘bout the fare

This was at Clapham Junction, immobile. The wheels had been nicked.

scramble for the nicest seats

facing the right way

scramble to cocoon themselves

and shut the world away

squeeze themselves into a seat

not big enough for one

squeeze beside a person whose

smell they can’t outrun

listen as the guard explains

why they’ll be delayed

listen as the other trains

speed by unafraid

boxed in by the cheap headphones

that make their fillings throb

boxed in by the voices

that have no volume knob

see the inconsiderates 

whose luggage blocks the aisle

see the drooling snorers 

headbanging all the while

witness as the guard says thanks

for travelling on his train

witness as the regulars

roll their eyes again

wish there were another choice

to get to where they go

wish that if they raised their voice

the differences would show

see the utter chaos

as the time comes to alight

see the hidden tensions

that don’t quite start a fight

sigh as the train then stops

and they step out through the door

sigh when the evening comes

and they do it all once more