Seventeen pebbles

Dear friends,

I came to the recent conclusion that if I am going to attempt to write poetry, I may as well publish it. Lacking any other forum, you valiant blog readers are the first to have your tolerance imposed upon. This is what it is like, living in my head. Don't worry, I don't expect anyone to actually understand! But if you do, or you have a theory, I'd love to hear your response.

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Seventeen pebbles

They are aligned in military order
Obscuring the chaos of small experience
Atoms colliding, pressure binding
Soft grains linking short time together
Boiled and cooled in seasoned tides
Their experience common, yet
Each fissure, each yearning pull
Uniquely patterned to the discerning eye.

Seventeen pebbles span the way
From one perspective, virginal, grey
Smooth, solid weight, equal in demeanour
Holding space and time in balance.
The stones know all truth and
They know all lies
And experience has yet to teach
One knowledge from the other.

Another path beckons
And when seventeen become one more
The route will change
The sun-baked streaks of expectation
Foreshadowing dreams dissolving
Reforming, renegotiating what you knew
To be real and honest validity
The best and the worst of you, stirring sand.

How many pebbles are permitted
Before the sifting of salt and iron
Reveals the crux of matter?
Learning to weigh truth and desire
Lies and stories, myth and mire;
Stumbling upon gardens, fruit-filled,
Tempting you to beat your own tail
Pick your truth, choose your lies to soothe.

Take care, seventeen; life comes
To the lucky and the unfortunate
And it holds no grudge
Against those who take the easy ride.
Right now, you know all truth
And you know all lies,
Though experience has yet to teach you
One knowledge from the other.

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When I was seventeen, I believed that I was an adult.

From the perspective of forty-five, I know with absolute certainty that I was a child.

The cliché that teenagers know everything allows us to joke about them, and belittle those feelings that we all remember well. But I got to thinking about it, and wondered.

When you listen to young people, and when you see what they create, you begin to question whether in fact they do know everything. Their words can demonstrate a clarity of perception that stops you in your tracks. Their writing, composing, art, performance – any mode of creativity, unweighed by experience, taps into truth and freedom of expression in a way that adult art does not.

Perhaps everything it is important to know about life is already known to you by the time you have lived seventeen years. What comes with experience isn't so much more knowledge, as the ability to distinguish truth.

It's the difference between theoretical life and applied life.

The extremes of childhood, recently lived, allow you to access all the theory you will ever need. By the time you reach seventeen, your story is already written.

But the highs and lows of adulthood require you to apply your theory, and that is much harder to do.

At first, when things happen to you and you are responsible for your own reactions, life can leave you confused and bewildered. You may anticipate your story, but the reality of what it feels like to actually experience it can be shocking.

Eventually, you reach a point when the pattern of your life-story has repeated so many times, applying your theoretical knowledge becomes a simple matter of recognition.

Ah, so deep, so deep – you just want to know how to feed your kids and make them happy, don't you?

Here are two recipes for soup, both soothing and nourishing for teenagers writing exams.

Butternut squash and apple:
Soften an onion in olive oil while you chop the squash into small pieces. Pop them in the saucepan with the onion and add ground coriander and nutmeg. Cover the squash with stock, and allow to simmer while you peel, core and chop three tart apples – Braeburn are good. Add these to the stock and simmer until the vegetables are soft. Blend and serve with sour cream or crème fraiche.

Spinach and parmesan:
Soften a couple of shallots in olive oil on a low heat, then bung large handfuls of spinach into the pot. Sprinkle with allspice and mild mixed spice (the kind you use in Christmas cakes). Stir until the spinach is wilted, then cover with hot stock and cream. While this gently simmers, grate in a chunk of parmesan. Don't let it cook too long. Blend and serve.

Now you have nourished your teenager, ask her about the meaning of life. Perhaps she'll tell you, if you can listen.