8. Consider the Ant

Everything You Need

Welcome back again. This week I’m talking about the eighth track to be released from ‘You Could Be Happy’. It’s called ‘Everything You Need’.

On exercise

It’s probably easiest to start this update by explaining the track title. A little while ago I had a bit more money than I have now, and could afford to do exercise with an excellent personal trainer, the wonderful Karl. (Seriously - he’s great. If you need a PT, and live in Wellington, I’ll put you in touch). He used to be fond of saying that I had ‘all the tools’ for improving whatever it was I wanted to improve. I have everything I need to get fitter, stronger, look better, whatever I wanted. What held me back wasn’t lack of knowledge, or even lack of possibility, it was lack of… ur… enthusiasm I suppose.

I find these kind of assertions both true and, in certain contexts, deeply problematic. Changing stuff requires work. Changing stuff about yourself requires really hard work. Not magic pills, or a new self help podcast, or anything that promises to do the work for you. Even if those things provide you with information, you’re not going to achieve jack without work. It’s not easy. This track is all about the hard work phase of change. To recap a little - we’re now well into the second Act. The central character has been given a mission (be happy), and spent last week building his knowledge of how to complete his mission. Now he knows how - he has all the tools. He just needs to do the doing, and start walking that long, rocky, hazardous road in front of him.

But hard work is also a tricky task in that it doesn’t guarantee change. A lot of problems arise for human beings when we assume that people are in unfortunate situation X because they haven’t put the work in. Whereas we all know, from our own experience, that It is perfectly possible to work incredibly hard and not get close to any of the results you seek.

Part of my deep lack of interest in the history of the Victorians is because I find them really dull, in particular with regards to this protestant work ethic, which they unhelpfully exported to the world. The idea that hard work is, in and of itself, morally improving, is just silly. Even sillier is the converse, which is that a state of moral turpitude arises due to lack of hard work. I’m pretty sure the vast numbers of people impoverished by industrialisation in the nineteenth century didn’t feel spiritually uplifted by their transition from open agriculture to a sixty hour week in exchange for a subsistence wage.

Thankfully we live in an age where it’s occasionally recognised that valorisation of hard work is, at least in some regards, silly. One of my favourite economists, JK Galbraith, delivered a couple of zingers in The Affluent Society that I’m still fond of dragging out in tandem.

“The most notable thing about the huge increase in personal wealth that humanity has enjoyed over the past 200 years is that we have chosen to spend all of it on things, and none of it on leisure.”

“Why is it that we will happily tolerate any amount of idleness on the part of the rich, but none on the part of the poor?”

Hard work isn’t important, or glamorous, or morally superior to any other mode of doing business. What it is, sadly, is sometimes very necessary. But also a risk. It might not work. Results not guaranteed. You might not have everything you need. There’s no guarantee our hero is getting to the end of this road.

I am a completely normal loop

The reason we need things like plans, a commitment to effort, and the support of people around us, is because the road is, as I said, long, hard, and rocky, but also prone to loops. You will hear some hark backs to the past in this track. You remember the cry for help from Breaking It? That’s back with a vengeance in the middle of this track. When I was writing this album, I actually nicknamed it the ‘horror theme’. It’s that feeling in the pit of your stomach when you’re suddenly sunk, and your ability to keep moving deserts you very suddenly.

But why is that feeling back? Didn’t we leave all of that behind in the first sequence? Aren’t we on a path somewhere better now? Sadly that’s not really how it works, and it’s certainly not my experience. You can be utterly convinced that every single one of your demons is slain, once and for all, and you’ve walked so far down the road to the new you that you’ve forgotten you even had any demons, when BAM. There they are again. All of a sudden. Alive and real and ready to cut your legs out from under you.

Our hero has fallen. He’s right back at the start, knocked down, unable to move, staring at the sky… But… there was a plan. There was all the work we did in Knee 2a to prepare for this, that you can hear that coming back with the repeated Philip Glass violin parts. That knowledge can start to beat back the horrors.

I remember. I can do this. I can do this. Just stand up. One foot in front of the other. Keep moving. Don’t stop. Just trust the plan. You have everything you need.

Help is coming.

What next?

Glad you asked! Firstly, thanks for reading this far. You’ve already been part of the creative journey of this album, and I very sincerely thank you for paying attention. All I’d really like is for people to listen and be part of what I’ve made. Job done. However, if you have friends or people you think would enjoy this, please encourage them to sign up to these updates via www.thesixteenth.net. It would mean a lot. And maybe actually listen to the songs in whatever way you enjoy!

You can listen to the music here, or through the links below.