Author: Mark

  • The Graveyard of Disappointed Hope

    The Graveyard of Disappointed Hope

    Introduction

    Yesterday, I finished reading No Silver Bullet: Bursting the Bubble of the Organisational Quick Fix (NSB).  I awoke this morning intending to begin writing this post, yesterday, I had no such intention.  My unconscious also gifted the slightly depressing Graveyard of Disappointed Hope title for this post.  In my sleep, I was processing thoughts and feelings about NSB, not so accessible to my conscious mind. Unconsciously, I was back amongst the workshop whiteboards, flip charts and coffee airports; back with my organizational change publication successes/failures, very personal hopes and despair. NSB is as much about the invisible often unconscious emotional aspects of organizational life as the more visible and tangible conscious quick fixes. If we put the shortcomings of silver bullets to one side, they are carriers of strong and at times intoxicating emotions.

    I worked for over three decades as an academic before volunteering for redundancy in 2019.  Over that time, I observed the demise of change management, the rise of change leadership and the ascendancy of the leadership development fetish. Interesting times and as a Reader in Organizational Change, I was not a neutral observer.

    I read NSB by way of preparation for a potential future conversation with Steve. We met at a staff seminar, about a decade ago and subsequently, we have had some water cooler conversations facilitating our respective workshops over the years. I virtually attended and enjoyed the NSB book launch and more recently enjoyed reading NSB.  I have a strong suspicion that it will be the last organizational change book that I read.  If that is the case, I am grateful to conclude with such a meaningful and thoughtful read.  I assure you that there was a lot of meaningless and thoughtless organizational change literature that I encountered.

    I am going to major in this post on hope and despair regarding organizational change. However, first I need to balance the slight menace of the title of this post with a reassuring and uplifting Amazon-style book review.

    Excellent Book (5/5)

    I had high expectations before reading NSB.  As I read the book these high expectations were repeatedly exceeded. The crude dichotomy characterizing much of the organizational change literature is as follows.  Academic literature speaks to academics but disengages and excludes practitioners.  Practitioner literature persuades practitioners but at the expense of academic engagement/respect.

    I admire how Steve has been able to write a book with an appeal to two very different audiences with different agendas.  The only audience excluded would-be academics and practitioners seeking a superficial read.  This is a deep book, in NSB you have a sense of the author reliving his past experiences, but also living through (and surviving) the writing experience.  It took time for this weary old academic to read, largely because the book engaged me both emotionally and philosophically.  However, I felt neither patronized nor overwhelmed. NSB is informed by both knowing scholarship as well as a deep and thoughtful engagement with the development and facilitation of organizational change practice.

    In subsequent sections, I will illustrate the reflexivity NSB surprisingly encouraged. This reflexivity is enabled through Steve’s frequent very candid disclosures. In most of my academic writing, I had to maintain the artificial objective/subjective distinction. The first-person singular was taboo in academic writing, academic authority informed by excluding the self, that’s interesting.  In reading NSB, I felt more like I was in a conversation than a lecture, refreshingly different from other organizational change books.

    The Cemetery Gates

    ‘even disappointed hope wanders around agonizing, a ghost that has lost its way back to the cemetery and clings to refuted images.‘(Bloch, 1995:195)

    The title for this post is taken from a quotation in The Principle of Hope, Ernst Bloch’s encyclopaedia of human hoping. I will return to hope and despair, but for now, we stand together at the Blochian cemetery gates. In this instance the gateway into a world of organizational ghosts and personal shadows. Whatever happened in my sleep last night I was taken to the gates of the cemetery of disappointed hope, in C.G. Jung’s terms, I am having to make my unconscious conscious.

    In 2009, I was fortunate enough to be at a Critical Management Studies conference where Simon Critchley was one of the keynote speakers. He talked persuasively about passive nihilism.  Instead of the terrorism of an anarchist, passive nihilists find the tyranny and manipulation in the world abhorrent, but focus on passive activities such as gardening and bird watching. Post-redundancy, I wear my passive nihilist t-shirt with pride lost in my twin passions of gardening and rambling.

    In writing NSB, Steve appears to have sidestepped this passive nihilist cul-de-sac.  Alternatively, he has hidden his existential angst very well.  NSB and its no quick fixes subtitle does not offer the warm comfort blanket of certainty. Steve offers plenty of practical guidance, particularly in the two concluding chapters. There is also a very useful subtext throughout NSB about the benefits of being more reflexive and thoughtful in the processes of organizing.

    In reading NSB and some of my writing and workshop facilitation I embraced the shift from doing to being.  That said it is never easy to relinquish agency.  The sleazy Just Do It (J.D.I) organizational slogan exists for a reason (even if it is a dodgy reason). In reading NSB I was in the realm of, Just Don’t Do It (J.D.D.I). There are plenty of references in NSB to corporate rebels and contrarians. I enjoyed these folk tales they felt like my kind of people.  I enjoy listening to The Road to Nowhere by Talking Heads and Everyone Knows This is Nowhere by Neil Young. The awkward part isn’t the journey, it is when you reach the existential nowhere.

    So, here’s to you DiMaggio and Powell

    The existentialist nowhere in the last section went a little too deep, a little too quickly. Perhaps I can lighten the load with the healing balm of institutional theory. I enjoyed facilitating many organizational change workshops with Steve Reeve and we worked well as a double act.  He would approach organizational change from perspectives of political science, institutional theory and economics.  I would approach organizational change from the perspectives of psychology, sociology and history. 

    Steve (R) covered the institutional theory of DiMaggio and Powell (1983) in our workshops. It always went down well with workshop participants, regardless of seniority, or sector background.  Benign ghosts from these workshops joined me in reading NSB.  DiMaggio and Powell helped me to understand why organizations copy each other. Once I had this insight, it informed my attempts to understand organizations. They referred to institutional isomorphism which could take three forms; coercive, mimetic, and normative. Organizations gain legitimacy by copying each other.  The interesting bit for me is that they have to copy other organizations, the agency of choice isn’t as prevalent as many imagine. If everyone else in your sector has an armoury of silver bullets and you have no silver bullets, you may well feel exposed, insecure and illegitimate.

    As Steve (H) eloquently explains business schools and large consultancy firms are significant players in manufacturing and delivering silver bullets. I have a suspicion that organizational receptiveness to these munitions is cultivated through the forces of institutional isomorphism.  There is a very real desire to be legitimate or at least signal legitimacy.  At different points in NSB Steve refers to the tale of the Emperor’s new clothes.  Even if it is blindingly obvious that the Emperor is not wearing any clothes, it is challenging to spell this out when everyone else is saying the opposite.

    Steve repeatedly acknowledges the role of collusion which is very valid.  However, for me, collusion was the precursor to co-optation. I had my moments explicitly questioning business school orthodoxy and Steve cites one of them. My (2011) provocative highlighting and questioning of the spurious nature of 70% change failure tendencies enthusiastically espoused by respected business schools/respected professors.  Yet, a decade later, Hughes (2011) was repeatedly invoked in Human Relations as the author who claimed change tends to fail (Schwarz et al, 2021). My irreverent critique of business school orthodoxy now co-opted into favoured business school orthodoxy – change tends to fail and we can help you succeed.

    NSB has rightly been applauded, but the danger is that it is co-opted into the beige orthodoxy of organizational change. One of the paradoxes, witnessed over three decades was how resistant organizational change orthodoxy was to the type of change Steve encourages.

    Too many words have been expended on the spurious goal of overcoming resistance to change (see HERE), perhaps it is time to overcome the resistance to change of organizational change orthodoxy.

    Who Killed Change Management?

    Sorry the last section was meant to be more upbeat, but I went back to another dark place of old battles and frustrated emotions.  There are reasons why the unconscious lurks in the shadows.  Possibly counterintuitive, but let’s visit another dark place. It’s around 2009, we have just experienced the global financial recession, and businesses and governments are broke.  The organizational work we did for the university dried up. Politically we were out of favour and fashion in our institution, dark days indeed.

    The cover of the book Who Killed Change?

    I stumbled across Who Killed Change? Solving the mystery of leading people through change by Ken Blanchard et al (2009). This frothy little book was written in the style of a Mickey Spillane murder mystery.  The murder under review was the apparent tendency for change to fail.  Who Killed Change, was the antithesis of NSB and could be paraphrased as – we’ve got silver bullets/quick fixes and we know how to use them.  The hopeful news for readers was that Ken Blanchard companies were able to solve their murder mystery for a consultancy fee.

    I wrote Who Killed Change Management primarily as therapy with publication in the wonderful Culture and Organization a welcome bonus.  In following the detective style, I parodied the Blanchard et al parody.  My detective delved into my growing concerns with practitioner depictions of change failing, but also the increasingly vociferous academic critiques of change management and the manageability of change.  Writing the paper was fun, but also helped me to understand the consultancy dependency on failure problems as the precursor to successful solutions. Business school/consultancy quick fixes were contingent on failure depictions, such as change tends to fail, regardless of the validity/reliability of such depictions.  Also, at this time I began to explicitly and purposefully engage with the literature on hope and implications for organizing.

    Hope – The Fuel of Progress

    The politician Tony Benn was quoted by Younge (2002) in The Guardian as referring to hope ‘…as the fuel of progress…’ Hope fuels practical organizational agendas, as well as, the publication ambitions of academics, yet somehow remains implicit in these agendas and ambitions. Hope was a recurring theme for me in reading NSB, though on the pages it is more implicit than explicit.  Perhaps in asserting no silver bullets/quick fixes, Steve Hearsum is the hope thief, apparently offering to replace hope with despair and optimism with pessimism.  

    Hope is integral to NSB and my concluding reflections on organizational change bookending my career. Although, unpublished I did a deep dive into the relationship between hope and organizing at a time when my life felt hopeless (see previous section).  The following selective insights about hope feel pertinent to Steve’s NSB thesis.

    In NSB the sloppy misrepresentations of Kurt Lewin and other scholars are rightly called out.  In my hopeful quest, I wanted to know what Kurt said about hope.

    ‘…the importance of that psychological factor which is commonly called hope … Hope means that sometime in the future, the real situation will be changed so that it will equal my wishes.’ (Lewin, 1942: 80)

    Lewin captures exactly what I am dancing around in this post.  Academic critique plays a crucial role in social science. Bursting quick-fix bubbles informs organizational practices, but how does this take us to a future which equals my wishes, or are we on the passive nihilist road to nowhere?

    I took reassurance from Halpin (2001: 107) ‘…frequently the state of being hopeful implicitly involves critical reflection about prevailing circumstances.’ This was the subtext I read into NSB which transforms silver bullet bursting from a hopeless activity into a hopeful activity.

    In my hope literature review, an epiphany came when I unexpectedly understood the utility of despair.   Nesse, (1999) suggests that events indicating our efforts will succeed arouse hope, whereas events indicating that our efforts are futile foster despair. Although not favouring this dualism, he acknowledges that the bias is so powerful, because the words hope and despair contain intrinsic judgements. 

    This acknowledgement is crucial to understanding the role of success and failure in organizational change, I feel a sermon coming on, but back to Nesse.  Nesse (1999) highlights two persuasive illusions about hope and despair.  Firstly, the illusion that hope and despair are opposites, they are dependent upon each other.  Secondly ‘…that hope is a beneficial virtue and despair is a harmful sin.  Both exist only because, in certain situations, they offer benefits’ (Nesse, 1999: 431). 

    The Who Killed Change Management moment featured in the previous section was my despair for the field of organizational change and my involvement in the field. However, out of the despair of this critical questioning came hope and fortunately subsequent successful publications and workshop facilitation. I perceive this down, through up and out trajectory when I read NSB, but that might just be me.

    Leaders Solve Problems or Construct Problems?

    I have an urge to address the leadership theme of NSB and as it is winter and my gardening has paused, I will indulge my urge.  Heroic leaders fire silver bullets at the problems of organizational life. We mere mortals look on in complete awe, fantasising that one day we might get to wear our underwear over our trousers.

    One of the best/most useful papers I ever read about leadership questioned such heroic leader orthodoxy.  Problems, problems, problems: The social construction of leadership (Grint, 2005) highlights the involvement of leaders in creating the problem context they heroically solve. The paper unpacks the tame, wicked and critical problems organizations encounter and the applicability of management, leadership and command in addressing these problems (see further elaboration HERE).

    I agree that there are no silver bullets, but even the perceived targets leaders point their big weapons at are often largely socially constructed.  This position is incompatible with traditional leadership development and consultancy interventions. Over time critical voices are co-opted into the dominant and dominating orthodox narrative – “where are the leaders, what we need is leadership”. Very few business schools would teach students that leadership is about asking questions, whereas command is about offering answers (Grint, 2005).  No, it is easier to peddle the pornography of strong leadership using the sleazy glamour models featured on The Apprentice and Dragon’s Den

    The Principle of Hope

    A gate at sunrise in the frost
    A gate at sunrise in the frost

    Hope was tangibly delivered when a member of the university library staff informed me that the three volumes of Bloch’s (1995) The Principle of Hope had arrived.  My academic solution to a very human emotion of despair. Tragically, Bloch’s encyclopaedic historical account of hope was the most depressing set of books I ever read. Bloch’s historical overview highlighted human hopes repeatedly being manipulated and unfulfilled. He wasn’t against hope, his anger was targeted at those peddling false hopes.  His anger was around the knowing manipulation of humans hoping to serve the power and financial interests of the manipulators.

    Emotions are invested in particular organizational change initiatives such as hope, excitement, pride, fear, anticipation, confusion etc.  Business schools and large consultancy firms have been masterful in their manipulation and monetization of these emotions as they successfully deliver and distribute silver bullets.

    Earlier, I rhetorically caricatured Steve as the hope thief, but I never believed this.  After reading NSB, I perceive him as the bouncer at the cemetery gates of disappointed hope.  Just inside the gates, we see a small group of academics sobbing over the latest academic league table. Opposite them, smartly dressed consultants fondle their top-of-the-range smartphones. Steve in his brown overalls shuffles past a non-descript group of practitioners enthusiastically bounding towards the cemetery gates.

    “Nothing for you here madam/sir, just the shells of dodgy old silver bullets and some cases of new silver bullets, move along please, we will be closing the cemetery shortly!”

    Ghosts of disappointed hopes haunt too many of my reflections. However, these benign ghosts encourage critical reflection on past experiences. This reflexivity is the best defence against the manipulation of silver bullets and quick fixes.

    If you can be patient and reflexive, the proposition that there are no silver bullets is a reason to be cheerful. If you have the courage to resist the isomorphism of adopting the latest silver bullet, your position is stronger not weaker. Questioning the silver bullet prescriptions of business schools and large consultancy firms is a basis for despair informed hope.  If you are willing to embrace an ongoing and uncertain process of organizational change, one day the future might just equal your wishes.

    Further details about Steve Hearsum and his work are accessible HERE.

    Fighting the habitual urge to conclude with a long list of references, I have attempted to embed links into the post at the first reference, though please note academic references are invariably firewalled.

    In terms of my publications, I am willing and able to share a draft of a paper or chapter if required and not accessible to you, please contact me HERE.

    The Graveyard of Disappointed Hope
  • What is the problem with leadership studies?

    What is the problem with leadership studies?

    Artificial intelligence

    My academic engagement is no longer forward-looking, I do still reminisce and reflect on past academic debates and moments. Artificial intelligence (AI) became mainstream a little too late in the day to either engage or inform me. However, I do find myself asking the AI programme (Google Gemini) questions which used to fascinate me. In later years, I was obsessed with a simplistic though rarely asked question.

    Why was there a shift from managing change to leading change?

    I recently asked the AI programme and it invoked Professor John Kotter, Harvard Business School and change tending to fail. This rubbish answer wasn’t good for my blood pressure. However, it did confirm my concerns that change orthodoxy remains very resistant to change, it was made in Harvard and remains very acritical.  AI is the future (apparently), yet it is warming up dogma from the 1990s in the name of progress. If this is the future trajectory of AI, the future is bleak.  Consequently, I was very pessimistic when I asked the AI programme another question which used to fascinate me.

    What is the problem with leadership studies?

    I concede there was a critical assumption embedded in the question, but still pleasantly surprised that the AI programme directed me towards the critical scholar Professor Mats Alvesson. They suggested his 2019 Leadership paper which identified eight problems and his 2020 Leadership Quarterly paper which challenged upbeat leadership studies (see full references at the end). Perhaps the future isn’t so bleak.

    The problems identified by Alvesson and echoed by AI include:

    • Lack of relevance – Research often ignores major issues
    • Unreliable results – Methodologies can produce invalid, unreliable, and unreproducible findings.
    • Positive bias – Positive results with ideological bias.
    • The conflation of leadership and management.
    • Lack of realism – Leadership is portrayed as seductive and positive, not reflective of corporate reality.
    • Fragmentation – Large and divergent studies make generalizations difficult.

    The laughing scholar

    I strongly recommend exploring the large body of Mats Alvesson’s work if you want to critically engage with leadership studies. I even had a bit of an Alvesson academic crush back in the day.  

    It was fortunate that I had left academia when the pandemic forced us into lockdown.  Everyone seemed to go into online/zoom mode, but my gardening was less adaptable to going online.  I decided to do some video reviews in my study and a local forest, so as not to be left out. It proved to be mischievous fun.  I don’t think the 69 views to date means that I can call myself an influencer.  I have just watched my Alvesson review video again.   I was pleasantly surprised by how happy and energized I was whilst problematizing leadership studies. Oddly, I had forgotten how much fun I had, see for yourself below:

    Questioning “upbeat” leadership studies, let’s encourage questions, rather than success recipes. (YouTube Video published August 23rd 2020)

    References

    Academic journal papers are invariably firewalled, so you will need library journal access to follow up on these references.

    Alvesson, M. (2019). Waiting for Godot: Eight major problems in the odd field of leadership studies. Leadership, 15(1), 27-43. https://doi.org/10.1177/1742715017736707

    Alvesson, M. (2020). Upbeat leadership: A recipe for – or against – “successful” leadership studies. The Leadership Quarterly, 31(6). https://doi.org/10.1016/j.leaqua.2020.101439

    What is the problem with leadership studies?
  • The Dance of the Moon and the Sun : NSB Album Review

    The Dance of the Moon and the Sun : NSB Album Review

    A celebration of the outsider art and music of Natural Snow Buildings (NSB) focussed on The Dance of the Moon and the Sun four CD set. Alternatively, musical accompaniment to a shamanic journey into nature, life, death and everything beyond.

    Introduction

    On August 9th 2021, I posted Natural Snow Buildings: An Appreciation.  I was gratified that there have been 972 views to date. In this post, I focus on the most well-known NSB album, The Dance of the Moon and the Sun.

    As outsiders NSB have always been enigmatic and a search these days invariably takes you to the NSB Archive.  A title suggesting a hiatus, probably permanent, but who knows? The upside is that they have been able to make their large back catalogue far more accessible. The NSB Archive Soundcloud Page offers a helpful listing of their albums in general and the albums under review in particular.

    The Dance of the Moon and the Sun over the years has acquired a legendary status. It has been released in different formats at different times with some releases being particularly rare. As always Discogs is very helpful in differentiating the different releases.

    The earliest release of the album appears to have been a self-release in 2006 on the Not On Label. According to Discogs, there were 31 copies with a red sleeve and 19 copies with a blue sleeve. The album was recorded on 8-tracks at the home of the duo Mehdi Ameziane and Solange Gularte in Vitré (France) between 2004-2005.

    In 2008 the album was reissued on Students of Decay (SoD/70-71) with a limited pre-order edition including two extra full-length CD-Rs, limited and hand-numbered to 120 copies and two mini-CD-Rs, both limited and hand-numbered to 250 copies.

    The version I am listening to here is the 2008 reissue (SoD/70-71), but without the two extra full-length CD-Rs, but with the two mini-CD-Rs. I never received the two extra full-length CD-Rs which I guess were contingent on how quickly you pre-ordered. The easiest way to view the full track listing of the albums reviewed here is to scroll through the Soundcloud album listings until you reach The Dance of the Moon and the Sun (Deluxe Edition). The Deluxe Edition listing covers the 33 tracks from the two CDs and the two mini-CD-Rs.  The total running time of these four discs is 3 hours, 22 minutes and 6 seconds.

    Between 2006 and 2008 the album sleeve and colour changes from the red often featured on internet references to the gold, white and black featured here. I prefer the gold of the sun and the moon, but I would say that.  The discs are contained in a square cardboard CD box with tab locking and embossed lettering, as always, the artwork is beautiful. There are three inserts, two hand-numbered cards (the sundowner) and (the moonraiser) with a CD-size fold-out information sheet. On the fold-out sheet, there is a November 2007 extract from Nemo at Time-Lag Records. Nemo reminisces about the beauty of the music and the artwork and how quickly the red and the blue editions sold, concluding.

    I had sold over half the whole pressing before I even knew just how quick these little beauties would evaporate and turn to myth. But so it goes, and as it should be, the myth is again reality … so enjoy the dance …

    Yes, I am with Nemo the mythical aspect of NSB fuelled my interest and acquisition of the 2008 release and my writing this post. The liminal nature of the art, the music, and the distribution is as it should be.

    Pagans, shamanism and other outsiders

    I am fascinated by the natural world in general and nature religions in particular. NSB appear to share similar interests.  It is not essential to share such interests, but it is informative when engaging with NSB music and art.  Pagans before the arrival of Christianity would celebrate on the 25th December the birth of the sun.  It was a time of optimism about the light, warmth and harvests still to come, rather than an extended eating and shopping experience.   Today, everything we take for granted is contingent on the sun and the moon; our climate, our seas, and our agriculture. Yet strangely nature worship is still perceived as a pastime for marginal outsiders. 

    Shamanism accesses altered states of consciousness through varied methods. One approach involves hypnotic repetitive drums and rattles.  I have engaged in such practices even experiencing becoming a salmon swimming through a quiet forest.  If you want to experience a forest, I recommend a salmon’s eye view.  There are many occasions on The Dance of the Moon and the Sun when the drums and rattles remind me of shamanic practices. NSB frequently employ repetitive drumming, rattles, shakers, church bells and other found sounds.  Much of the music on the album has a ritualistic feel and certainly would fit a hypothetical cinematic goal of music to invoke the dead. Again, this chimes with a healthy respect for the ancestors amongst shamanic communities.

    Time, place and mood

    On the South Coast of England, it is October 2024.  I have been fortunate enough to spend plenty of time recently roaming around local forests, on my own, but not alone.  It has been a powerful time of misty reminiscence, leaves changing colour, and damp mustiness everywhere.  A time of transition and melancholy.

    October has been just the right time to listen to NSB transitioning and journeying music.  This isn’t joyous uplifting music, but it does emotionally resonate. This isn’t spring or summer music, this is autumnal music. My mood is mellow, a mild sadness for what has been lost during a lifetime, but balanced with gratitude and acceptance.

    It is fitting to publish this post on Halloween, alternatively, the Mexican Day of the Dead would have worked well. Tracks include awkward themes of death, dying and decay.  NSB would make a very suitable house band here at woodlanddecay.com headquarters. I consciously chose to group the 33 tracks into a single playlist. It was why I needed to share the importance of time, place and mood.  Different tracks will speak to you at different times and in different ways. So, in my study, lounge and on the bus the playlist has been accompanying me.

    On one level it is sacrilege to convert four CDs into a single playlist to be randomly shuffled. I remember one ego-driven pop star banning her fans from shuffling her music on a lucrative streaming site.

    Over time, I made a note of shuffled tracks which particularly spoke to me and the two following playlist entries are the outcome of that exercise. There was only one playlist, but I have differentiated them into two playlists to aid exposition. There is so much more on the four CDs, but I was keen to share emotions, rather than describe each track in a soulless mechanistic way.

    Mellow melancholia playlist

    Mellow melancholia is for romantics, lovers and the broken-hearted.  On these tracks acoustic guitar is often prominent and often Solange’s lyrics are evident, or half evident, as often her words are barely discernible. It adds an ethereal misty quality to the music, though I feel like I am eavesdropping rather than hearing the poignant words being sung.

    If you wanted to sample only one track out of the 33 tracks, I would respectfully suggest Wisconsin (11 minutes 59 seconds). Beautiful melodies are drenched in mellow melancholia. I never understood why women would choose to watch a sad film, but this track helps me to understand. Guitars gently plucked reverberate and build on earlier echoes. After about three minutes we go into a slower reflective refrain which seems to gently spiral up into the ether.  I imagine being spirited up to some kind of cosmic holding zone.  And then a more purposeful melody begins to build, gaining confidence, but ever so slowly.  You find yourself waltzing to an unknown destination. You intuitively know the music is taking you to a good place, you don’t want the repetition to end as you mainline on melody.  Inevitably the melody slows down, sadness invoked for something lost. I never want to leave this place.

    Eu un miroir, obscurement (4 minutes 40 seconds). This is beautiful, hypnotically repetitive music.  There are found sounds of women’s voices, they are background to the rhythmic loop that has been set up. There are slight variations, but mere ripples in the water as my canoe is gently rocked sailing towards the lemon-low light of an unknown celestial place.

    Carved Heart (1 minute 7 seconds). Desperately sad love song.  NSB chose to open with this track, in a way the most accessible, but in another way the least representative.  The breathy lyrics are discernible, even to my weary ears. When Solange sings about “the ring carved on your finger” I imagine the imprint left after a ring has been worn for a long time. However, she laments that you cannot throw it away/give it back, I imagine love lost.  She refers to “her voice from the grave”. The track ends with the reflective humming of somebody lost in a world of their own.

    Tunnelling into the structure until it falls (7 minutes 5 seconds). The enigmatic nature of this track makes labelling/classifying challenging. It begins with an upbeat, meditative and reflective rhythm, imagine coming out of a depression.  The drumming subsides and these rhythmic loops take over. The music quietens and slows drawing you into the breathy eerie lyric “She’s stealing your soul, piece by piece.” As a hopeless romantic I heard this lyric as “she’s still in your soul” a reassuring call – back to Carved heart. It was only when I checked what I was hearing on a lyric site that I appreciated the call–back might be darker.

    Raising the dead playlist

    In contrast to the mellow melancholia playlist, the Raising the dead playlist is far less reflective, more percussive, and more agitated. The previous playlist was about fondly remembering the ancestors.  This playlist is about the turbulent and at times traumatic journey to reach the ancestors.

    If you wanted to sample one track in this spirit it would have to be Trench (2 minutes 42 seconds).  If nightmares had musical accompaniment, this would be the deeply disturbing soundtrack.  It reminds me of my relationship with early 1970s horror movies as a teenager, simultaneously attracted and repulsed.  I think guitars are feeding back and indistinguishable voices are played backwards.  Profoundly, disturbing and remember that I was a teenage Throbbing Gristle fan.

    They raise the dead don’t they (11 minutes 53 seconds). The deep horn sounding at the beginning offers an ominous call to arms. Tambourines, feedback, and repetitive drumming all create a strong feel of a Native American Indian ritual.  A very particular form of shamanism, unique to a particular place in the world.  Peyote is now ingested, initially nothing seems to be happening.  The repetitive drumming continues for a few minutes and then slows slightly, sounds begin to splinter and subtlety is introduced with the drumming continuing in the background. Sounds swirl like mists around a fire pit, and melodies begin to dance out of the fire pit like flames. As that disco tune once went, we are lost in music, caught in a trap.

    A ten guardian – spirits mother……. (9 minutes 35 seconds). I am caught up in stereotypes from the Westerns of my formative years.  After a drone introduction, drums and rattles are introduced alongside the drone feedback.  The percussion is very regimented and purposeful suggesting preparation for confrontation. After about five minutes the percussion ebbs away and gives way to gentler harmonies. The track concludes with ghostly unspoken vocals echoing and reverberating.

    Cut joint sinews and divided reincarnation (15 minutes 20 seconds). A very slow ponderous introduction sounds like a deep timpani drum or perhaps a bass guitar feeding back. It suggests to me that we are entering a place or a state of mind.  Then the extended drone is interrupted by percussion, which begins to build up pace, this is in sharp relief to the slow drone. The repetitive drumming accompanied by the tambourine enables the waking/reincarnation of the ancestors. As the repetitive drumming is extended it becomes quite hypnotic before slowing down and moving into echoes, reverb and feedback we are about ten minutes into this track. A muffled vocal track is introduced into this melee, it is more troubling than reassuring. A different muffled voice is played backwards a deep church bell ringing as accompaniment.

    Dawn celebration (7 minutes 20 seconds). Native American Indian music, drums, rattles, shakers and harmonic singing, very gently ebbs and flows. Slowly, the early morning sunlight shines through with guitar feedback which sounds almost like an organ. The ritual is complete.

    In the morning after the night, I fall in love with the light

    The words above are taken from The Orchids lyric by Genesis P. Orridge.  No longer with us, but certainly, a cultural outsider who was open-minded about paganism, shamanism and so much more.  His lyric acknowledges the duality of dark and light, echoing the importance of the sun and the moon for everything we do. It was never about either/or as we are invariably force-fed. We are sold a world of illuminated, bright shiny lights, baubles and consumerism. But we need the dark/the night if we are to fall in love with the light. You cannot have the sun without the moon. I have been overindulging in dark NSB themes and melancholy melodies and it is now time to step out of the dark into the light.  

    As my come down (up) music, The Supremes Gold collection invokes the light, no more reaching for the dead today.   The lovelight shines celebrating love, life and joy in lightening the darkness.  We need the sun as much as we need the moon.  We need the dark as much as we need the light.  Unfortunately, spirit guides such as NSB who can guide us through the dark are too few and far between.

    Outer cover of Natural Snow Buildings - The Dance of the Moon and the Sun CD Album
    The Dance of the Moon and the Sun NSB album review
  • New Forest Old Memories

    New Forest Old Memories

    Introduction

    I was fortunate enough to visit the New Forest in the first week of October this year. It was a calculated gamble in terms of the weather. Fortunately, I was blessed with bright sunshine most days and even a hint of frost early in the mornings. I wanted to be part of the autumnal transition from summer into winter.  Oddly, I found myself reflecting on my autumnal transition into my winter.

    Into the Forest

    I had visited and enjoyed the New Forest a few times previously.  However, the dilemma was that I tended to stay in Southampton and travel into the forest.   This worked well but I wanted to experience the early morning autumnal sun rising.  This time I found a Holiday Village (see Eat, Sleep, Play section) which enabled me to experience the forest on my doorstep. 

    Most mornings after meditation and breakfast, I walked into the New Forest with the sun rising. The slight frost made everything appear silver. The rising sun warmed the frosted common creating a wonderfully exhilarating atmosphere.  I hope the photographs give you a flavour of the experience.  It didn’t feel cold enough to wear gloves, but it was a reminder that that time was quickly approaching.

    In this early morning sunlight, I saw many deer, but they were reluctant to pose for a photograph.  The other animals that were less camera-shy were the pigs.  It was pannage time when the pigs were released onto the common land to eat the acorns.  This is important, because the acorns are toxic for the other animals on the common, so a natural win/win.

    A pig enjoying pannage freedoms in the New Forest

    I was staying in Landford, located between Salisbury and Southampton, tending to explore the forest between Landford and Nomansland. I have just Googled the derivation of Nomansland and it isn’t a reference to a feminist haven, but rather an acknowledgement that it is ‘anyone’s land’ (see the WSHC link for further discussion). There is still a need to respect landowner privacy, but there is more freedom to roam than we have in Sussex.  The New Forest is punctuated with common land, small tracks, minor roads and small villages. My walking seemed to revolve around the village of Bramshaw.  I typically walked for six hours each day, returning to my campsite for a late lunch. The footpaths were very quiet, particularly on the weekdays and it was very peaceful.

    Going Backwards

    At a very early age forests enchanted me.  Dad would take me for walks in the forest at the bottom of the lane behind our home. As I grew up and got into Pogles’ Wood (see post), I regularly asked my parents if the forest we were visiting was where the Pogles lived. They always offered suitably ambiguous answers to keep the magic alive. These days I find myself consciously and unashamedly going backwards.

    When Fly Agaric mushrooms appeared overnight beneath the silver birch tree in our garden they fascinated me.  In later life, I have enjoyed photographing forest fungi, but the Fly Agaric is not so evident in the chalky Sussex countryside.  I decided to challenge myself to photographically capture the Fly Agaric image whilst roaming the New Forest. I struggled with my self-imposed challenge until I met a man walking his dog. I asked if he had seen any.  He suggested he had seen some on Half Moon Common and where exactly I might find them.

    The location title Half Moon Common added to my quest, behind the co-op wouldn’t have worked so well.   The Fly Agaric’s charm is rather fleeting and the drama of their arrival soon fades.  The implication was the next morning my sunrise walk was to Half Moon Common. It was a joy to find the Fly Agaric, though its charm was fading (see image).  I noticed nearby groups of silver birch trees and decided to explore them later in the week.

    I walked many miles, alternating with lighter rest and recuperation days. On one such day, I decided to visit Porchester Castle. Again, as a child I loved castles, I suspect then I could imagine how they might have been. Today my imagination is no longer finely tuned, but I have found myself gravitating back to castles on my travels. They do still tell stories if you let them. Porchester Castle was a new experience.  It overlooks the Solent sitting wonderfully proud in the landscape.

    Going Forward

    I enjoyed my autumn adventure in the New Forest, but I have never been as aware of my autumn as I was during this last week, deep inside woodland decay heaven.  The leaf mould beneath my feet, many trees toppled over and now rotting.  It was the cycle of life stuff, new growth, new beginnings, but that was not my future.

    Forests are a multi-sensory experience. I was feeling/experiencing the forest and its transition, but not fully sensing it. My sight and hearing have inevitably diminished over the decades.  I walked over fifty miles during the week and I am grateful that was still possible.  However, increasingly aches and creaks are part of the walking experience.

    A young Fly Agaric mushroom recently emerged

    I went in search of the Fly Agaric just emerging and was delighted to be rewarded (see image).  What a wonderful specimen. I was down on my hands and knees worshipping it with my camera.  A mother and daughter kindly came over to check I hadn’t fallen over.  A fall would have been understandable. I regularly grazed my knees as a child, in later life we had a different type of fall to avoid.

    As a child, I didn’t know that the Fly Agaric has an intimate/symbiotic relationship with decaying silver birch trees. The beautiful tree in our garden died, and the Fly Agaric posing for me in the New Forest was at the base of a decaying silver birch tree.

    Eat, Sleep, Play

    In later life, I prefer to prepare food for myself. I was a fussy eater as a child and again I seem to be a fussy eater these days, though now for different reasons.  I had a wonderful epiphany this year, why not use campsites rather than budget hotels? I love nature, but tents are not for me. However, I stay on campsites in what I think of as a park home, though in this instance they were referred to as lodges (see image).

    They have a large lounge with a television, a kitchen with all the white goods I have at home, bedrooms and a shower room. It is a home-from-home. I can eat what I like, when I like and listen to my music without worrying about the people in the next room.  Equally, I sleep better without all the noise present even in a quiet hotel. At my campsite, I was away from the road traffic of the city centre hotel and I slept well every night for seven nights.

    Greenhill Farm worked out well, with a friendly greeting on arrival. They provided very modern, well maintained and clean accommodation. I could have happily lived there for seven months rather than seven days. It was a “premium” holiday village, but happy to pay the premium for such a wonderful location.  There was a bus stop near the entrance enabling me to travel either to Southampton or Salisbury.  After visiting Totton to buy my food, I was set up for the week.

    In conclusion

    A wonderfully mellow holiday enabled me to experience nature up close and personal. A stimulating setting to reflect upon life.  Hopefully, a few more adventures are still to come…

    Links

    Greenhill Farm Holiday Village

    https://lovatparks.com/locations/new-forest/green-hill-farm-holiday-village/

    The New Forest Tourist Board

    https://www.thenewforest.co.uk/

    Wiltshire and Swindon History Centre

    https://wshc.org.uk/the-quiet-nomansland/

    New Forest Old Memories