I am fortunate to be happy in life and motivated by a continuing desire to learn and explore. After a career in business I am focused now on exploring aspects of life that I did not previously have time to consider enough; art, architecture and photography. This blog is a diary or, more realistically, a scrapbook of what I am doing and learning. I am a strong believer that there is more than one dimension to all of us, and that we must avoid allowing life to squeeze us into a single-dimensional appearance. That idea of there people many people wrapped up within each of us is the subject of Pablo Neruda’s poem below. Bring on the Renaissance man and woman!

I have been described as one who is “adventurous but not restless, content but still curious, courageous but not foolhardy and sincere but not sentimental”. Well, I hope I can live up to that!

Of course every blog is to some degree an exercise in vanity publishing, and should be approached with caution as a result. But I have found there are interesting people with interesting perspectives and stories sharing these through blogs. If you find anything I have to contribute interesting or thought-provoking, please let me know.

If not, please pass on!

We are many

Of the many men who I am, who we are,
I can’t find a single one;
they disappear among my clothes,
they’ve left for another city.

When everything seems to be set
to show me off as intelligent,
the fool I always keep hidden
takes over all that I say.

At other times, I’m asleep
among distinguished people,
and when I look for my brave self,
a coward unknown to me
rushes to cover my skeleton
with a thousand fine excuses.

When a decent house catches fire,
instead of the fireman I summon,
an arsonist bursts on the scene,
and that’s me. What can I do?

What can I do to distinguish myself?
How can I pull myself together?
All the books I read
are full of dazzling heroes,
always sure of themselves.
I die with envy of them;
and in films full of wind and bullets,
I goggle at the cowboys,
I even admire the horses.

But when I call for a hero,
out comes my lazy old self;
so I never know who I am,
nor how many I am or will be.

I’d love to be able to touch a bell
and summon the real me,
because if I really need myself,
I mustn’t disappear.

While I am writing, I’m far away;
and when I come back, I’ve gone.
I would like to know if others
go through the same things that I do,
have as many selves as I have,
and see themselves similarly;
and when I’ve exhausted this problem,
I’m going to study so hard
That when I explain myself,
I’ll be talking geography.