Night Shift

There are certain jobs that suit different people over others. I’ve done a few bread deliveries over the last month and it is one of those jobs that would be either perfect or a nightmare. Getting up early is a total nightmare of course when you’re not in that rhythm and you end up doing the shift on only three hours sleep but it doesn’t take a lot of thought so you can get by. It is one of those jobs that gives you the opportunity for some peace and quiet as you rarely speak to anyone until a few hours into the shift and even then it’s only a few sentences of routine greetings and jokes. I can imagine there is a certain repetition and they must love it when a new guy comes along. The roads are empty, it is dark, quiet and you have time for yourself. There’s also another world of things and people going on that over time would give opportunity to the most interesting set of stories. Without the interesting random events though it would probably become tedious like any job and if I’m still helping out here in ten years doing this then please somebody come and find me. There’s also the possibility that these interesting stories are only comparatively interesting and are few and far between. From time to time and in the short term though there is something interesting and enjoyable about it, but then you could say that about virtually any job if you were the sort with a curious mind.

I would be interested to know what a night shift stocking shelves in a supermarket would be like. I hope to never find out, let me make that clear, but the curiosity is more that I wonder if I enjoy the van driving at night over the working at night, I suspect I would hate every second of stocking shelves no matter the time of day, or the packing warehouse, or especially the cold outdoor work in the winter. So perhaps it has nothing to do with the night time but more with my fondness for driving around and feeling all warm inside my van. I do prefer the night hours more though. There is also some romanticism going on here and I have always imagined lorry drivers have been the types who love the solitude, the long endless nights and being left alone. In fact I have met a few, I have hitched with a few, and while I can’t confirm they enjoy being left alone they can be total oddballs for sure.

Ultimately it takes a certain type of person to work nights, to work such unsocial hours which seem to conflict with our natural rhythm. I have a lot of respect for nurses and doctors in that case as not only do they work nights but sometimes days too, and even then there shifts are long and intense. People are generally amazing I think is the conclusion and by amazing I mean they are all so varied there is always something to discover. Why we seem so determined to pander to our fears and box everyone away, especially in such enormous generalised boxes is beyond me. There may be jobs out there but try getting everyone to work a night shift unless they love it or are desperate and you can see why people don’t want to just work any job. If people were just given the education to discover there own paths then what an interesting workforce we would have. That and a bit of variety I would imagine.

Mental Strife

And woe behold, is todays mind but one bereft of even those most basic of ideas” said me now, not someone from an age past, only partly quotable in what the modern age has done to language. Basically I can’t really think of anything to write about…bereft of ideas as a wise man once said. Perhaps I should wait until later in the day when maybe the mind is more keen to do battle with the creative limits it’s own development has boxed it into. Exactly the reason for choosing this moment of struggle to put out a piece, the challenge of finding light in the darkness, the very creative representation of the Guru in translation. For do we not learn what is true in times of strife, when adversity forces us through the self-imposed limits of our ability to find solutions within ourself? The answers are forever within. Alone in life we embrace this struggle of discovery until we are left with nothing but the hollowed out carcass of illusionary past moments and past lives. The frame of conditions we believed were once the existence that held together the fragility of consciousness, of all that we could see and understand before our eyes now nothing but dust as it exposes itself in the light of truth. But what of truth in this great journey of understanding, for what if mine is yours and yours is mine, are not all universal the understandings we seek? Delving deeper into this morass of darkness and confusion that comes before the light, thrashing and screaming as we see only the untruth before our eyes in all it’s ugly vain glory. Until the moment of acceptance comes before our minds eye, will we forever miss the beauty in the darkness of our delusion. The acceptance that comes when we understand we can no longer blame this darkness for stopping us breathing, but our own inabilities to inhale the truth that now fills our lungs. In and out we breath, the oxygen of light that simply began with us pushing out from the shackles we accepted, that grew while we floundered but which now lay smashed upon the ground. The hammer of liberty breaking the bonds of ignorance held in place through such safe existence. Grown fat through illiterate teachings, shepherds of prosperity forcing us to regurgitate their own vomit. To discover the chains had no lock when all is too late and all is lost. For we learn it is easier to dig our own graves, stepping into the reassuring darkness. Better this murky existence than merely pushing ourselves in times of mental stupor.