A stringy thingy

"What's pulling your strings? "

I knew the voice was directed at me from the moment I heard it; it wasn't a menacing voice, but it did belong to the lady who had been irritating passengers on the train that had just arrived into Euston station.

"Just a question", she said.

During the journey, this woman had been firing javelin questions and statements at innocent and awkward passengers:

"You have beautiful eyes. I'm just saying."

So when this voice asked the string question and the mouth and eyes of the Irish woman (who had previously and apparently been looking out of the train door) turned to look at me, I was quite surprised. Not surprised because she meant me, but surprised because I had been expecting it to be me she meant, and I had been right. At the time I said something that wasn't an answer in a plummy accent, and in the style of a privately educated ra-ra chap to which she smiled, evidently in possession of the answer she needed.

This encounter was over a week and a half ago just after I had arrived back from a holiday in Geneva, but I was reminded of it yesterday morning. In a break from sitting at my desk, I left the office and walked to Chappells of Bond Street to find a piece of music that I needed to do some research on for a publication. Oxford Street was full of people; this of course is not unusual, but the insight of my Irish inquisitor came back to mind: What are these people doing? Who is pulling their strings? What is pulling their strings? It is an interesting idea to work out what people are motivated by, or what they think they are motivated by. For me the question often comes back in private thought as I am fiercely analytical of most things I do. I suppose to a certain extent, what you think motivates you, is only what catalyst you use to find what everyone seeks - freedom, happiness and satisfaction. There are plenty of philosophers who have written on this much more eruditely than me, but it is still fascinating. I think the strings which pull me have carrots of fulfilment on the end like a mirage oasis of whatever I think my motivation is at that time in my life. Right now, being Friday evening, the strings pulling me are the need to leave my desk and head to a rehearsal in order that I can then go and meet Rachel and Claire in Islington for a drink. I go for a drink to fulfil the end of my week, and to relax with two like minded intellects. A short-term fulfilment but with potential long-term implication.

But fulfilment changes depending on what happens. My life has been going through a very odd phase over the past few weeks. Like a wind change. I have found stages of fulfilment, and I have found answers to a great many questions. However, bizarrely, as if someone had opened one window and shut another, a vast swathe of friends have, without real contact for ages, suddenly decided to get in touch. Even more bizarrely, a majority of them with about a 3 year gap. Another one telephoned me today. The converse is also true. Of course, this is all the Rhythm of Life again, and evolution must have fallow periods too. It is interesting how a natural balance is achieved, and significantly how what is 'pulling my strings' changes depending on which puppeteer is on duty. After all, a river which stands still, and doesn't evolve will get a return of stagnancy on its stubborness.

A thought for the weekend. I'm off to find a pair of scissors.