The world isn't short of advice for anyone trying to get better at something. 

Mostly though, getting better at something, whether it be writing songs, performing gigs, hosting  Homesongs...or rubbing your belly and patting your head at the same time...comes down to one simple thing. 

Keep Doing It. 

That's my self-help book written, anyways.

 

Today's Homesongs4Life is supposedly "competing" with the football. 

But of course it's not. The football is watched by millions, and it's we who have to adapt our schedule, not the other way round. 

And we can easily adapt. It can be advantageous to be small and flexible. It happens that the tiny mammals outlived those clomping, humungous dinosaurs. 

Music is coming Homesong!

(I'll get my coat). 

"Of the making of many books, there is no end" - Solomon, Ecclesiastes. 

Talking To Yourself

So what do you say, when it's all been said 

The song been sung and the book been read?

But you've still got voices in your head

Giving it laldy.



Well, it's probably time to go to bed

With a glass of water and a slice of bread,

And lie there patiently, until your dead

Or at least till Friday.

Alternatively

You could let those crazy voices out

Whether they whisper, scream or shout

And find out what they're on about

They might be lonely.


Just offer them some company

A bit of a blether, a cup of tea

And in a while you both will be

Arrested.

Probably. 

by David Fee

 

Recording a song  is like getting yourself dressed up for a special occasion. A wedding or a posh meal perhaps. Everything has to polished and proper. You are going to be seen. Photo's will be taken. People may even look at those photos in the future. 

Do not go to these events with a dodgy hair-do! 

On the other hand, singing live at a Homesong is more like a bowl of rice and chilli while you're slouched out on the couch. All about the fantastic taste and the moment. There may well be the odd splotch of sauce that misses your mouth.

 But, unlike the chilli, you can chill.

 


 

My 6 year old grandson Saul has taken over drawing the pictures for my monthly Fourth of the month song release. He was only given the title for this one Painting Little Pictures and came up with this wonderful idea below: a caterpillar painting a portrait of it's future butterfly self. 

Beautiful. 

 Kintyre has been the place we've lived for 25 years, and the house I'm writing from, our specific residence for 10 years. And we're not going anywhere.  But in my life, as a kid and as an adult, I moved house about 20 times.  It's not a recipe for a settled, secure existence. That's why this house and Campbeltown have become so important to me.

We've found our home.  And having one isn't a given. Many people don't even have the physical house, let alone that special emotional shelter, that gives us the security to spread our wings and try new things. If we want to.

If you haven't got a home right now, don't stop looking, or working to build one. It's a precious thing to have, and I'm certainly not taking mine for granted. 

It's a gorgeous, warm summers day. I've climbed for a while and I approach the Paths of Tranquility, my place of peace, along the forest trails on the slopes of Beinn Ghuilean. Entering into the fragrant smell of pine trees, I start walking in and out of  shade,  sunlight bursting through the branches in glorious patches of warm light. Beautiful. 

Oh, yeah. I forgot to mention the flies. They arrive with the nice weather, attracted perhaps by the sunshine and the small amount of my own fragrant sweat from the uphill walk. 

So what is usually an unhindered solitary wander becomes a battle to ignore the swarm of flying beasties shouting "LOOK AT ME!". No...really....LOOK AT ME!!!!!!!!

For a while I'm winning. I maintain my Zen, and see beyond them to the always wonderful colours, listening out for the bird song in the trees.  But my Zen is not always very Zen. And the moment comes when I obey orders...and I look. And then, inevitably, I look again. And then I slowly become irritated. You perhaps know how it goes. And suddenly I turn into a whirling dervish, hoping to fight them off forever with a spinning dance and waving arms. 
And perhaps you also know how that ends. Or doesn't. 

Learn to ignore the flies?

Maybe we can, maybe we can't. 

Only way to find out is to keep walking, I suppose. 

"That'll do" sounds like a settling for second best. 

For me it is a cure for the sort of perfectionism which can freeze a soul and stop anything getting done. 

Nothing is perfect. We just take steps in the right direction. 

 

Electronic Devices and Fuel Driven Machines don't seem to like me. That's how it has often seemed anyway. 

These days I take it personally! I've got a manual lawn mower for instance. So much more peaceful. And a while ago I bought a hand worked coffee grinder. It takes me 10 minutes or so to grind the coffee every morning, and it could be a hassle.

Instead it's becoming a wonderful daily reminder to slow down. Take my time. Haste me not. Honestly, my breathing gets calmer as I do it, and before I face the tasks of the day. 

I see Homesongs as the hand ground coffee of music. The end product is much the same.

They're just that little bit less rushed. And less parts to go wrong!

 

Even though we might have been seeing more of our homes during this past year and a half than we really would have wanted to, the places we live, haven't always felt like home.

It is the presence of other people that make it so, and many of those "other people" haven't been able to cross the threshold. 

Without the people we love passing in, and out, a home is not quite a home.