All You Need is Love

Why do we make art, be it painting, music, film, sculpture, poetry, or whatever? There must be countless reasons. For me, it is about trying to capture something beautiful or otherwise noteworthy that I’ve experienced or maybe dreamt. The most basic aim is to create something that triggers a memory of the ephemera that caught my attention. Better than that would be to fashion a thing that communicates the passion that inspired me to those close to me. If I’ve done a really good job, it may even appeal to those outside my circle. That would be nice but it is, for me, a smaller concern.

The thought of putting a smile on the face of one you love is appealing. It’s why we give presents on birthdays and at Christmas. It is part of love.

I got a paper round when I was about fourteen. It paid pretty badly but it meant that I had a bit more money at least. Up until then, my Mum had very kindly and judiciously bought Christmas presents on my behalf. That year, I chose and paid for presents myself, for close family at least. They were pretty paltry but it felt great.

We spent most Christmas’ as part of a big gathering of relatives at my grandparents’ house. It was a smallish house but it had a big garden which looked out to the rolling Surrey countryside. My brother and I used to spend a lot of time in the garden so I guess that was on my mind when I bought a beginner’s gardening kit from Boots for my Nanna’s gift. My memory isn’t great but looking back, my Granddad was a keen birdwatcher so I think that the garden was left quite wild with that in mind. I was eager to see people’s reactions when they opened their presents but I think that must have been trumped by my excitement about opening my own gifts so I was distracted when I heard Nanna ask,

“Who got me this?”

I looked up to see her holding the gardening kit. I loved her dearly but she was a formidable lady so it was timorously that I confessed,

“That was me.”

Her expression softened and she said

“Oh! Lovely! Thank you dear, that’s very thoughtful.”

Sometimes we get it wrong. I suppose Nanna was asking

“Which of you knows me so badly?”

It was a quick turnaround but I’m sure her thanks were genuine when she realised my mistake. All the same, I played it safe from that year onwards and got quite adept at wrapping Nanna’s favourite Mon Cheri chocolates.

It probably sounds pretentious but I think of artistic creations as kind of non-targetted gifts to the world. Great artists give us Ferraris while most of the rest of us are giving Boots beginner gardening kits.

As my Parkinsons progresses, I spend an increasing amount of time at home. Going in to work makes me tired and anxious. Alcohol disagrees with my medication so I’m less inclined to join friends for pub outings.

Instead I spend my spare time writing blogs or making music. I’m quite happy with both though I’m aware that both fall in the beginner’s garden kit territory. I use social media to distribute them in the hope of putting a smile on someone’s face or even artificially creating a shared experience that we could chat about.

I suppose the difference is that I am asking for a couple of minutes of someone’s valuable time in exchange. When I post something on social media, I’m asking if anyone cares enough about me to spare that time and accept the gift as it was intended at the risk of finding that it’s not really what they wanted just because we are friends. We all need affirmation sometimes and that is especially so in the case of people with Parkinsons. We’re all involuntarily looking for that dopamine rush.

With notable exceptions, it often feels like the answer to my question is ‘no.’

I’ve tried improving my music and writing to make the gifts more palatable but I can see from my feedback that no one listens or reads anyway. Like Robinson Crusoe discovering a message in a bottle washed on to the beach only to find that it is the message that he sent last year.

As John Lennon said, “All You Need is Love,” but sometimes it can seem hard to come by. And without love, what is the point?

Facebook and Twitter bombard us with information and less and less of it is actually from the people that we are there to hear from. And, of course, when one of my messages does get through, the question that I'm posing is just in my head. I'm as bad as the next person at consuming information without responding. In fact, I get quite irritated by the barrage of emails asking 'how did we do?'

This week I've been reminded that I have many great friends who are there for me when I need them. Thanks friends! x