Francis Meyrick

Be your own Helicopter

I’ve been flying Airplanes and Helicopters for a living for decades now.
I also did an aircraft maintenance course, and I am what they call an Airframe and Powerplant (A & P) Aircraft Maintenance Technician. The point of that anecdote, is not to tell you how great I am, but, on the contrary, to tell you how working as a Helicopter Pilot-Mechanic (on a Taiwanese Tuna Boat) slowed me down. A lot. How so?

A modern Helicopter can cost millions of Dollars. I fly a Bell 407, and behind me stands a team numbering hundreds of individuals. Those guys are specialists. They have spent whole careers focused on their area of expertise. They really know transmissions, or turbines, or electronics, or GPS systems. They are field mechanics, or logistics people, or finance guys, or customer liaison dudes. They worry about all sorts of stuff, and they have my back. And little moi, well, I am the lucky-lucky-lucky jester that gets to PLAY with the biggest, meanest toy you can imagine. Err, WORK, I mean. Having also worked as a mechanic, I see the results of my actions. I see, in my mind’s eye, a shaft spinning, cogs meshing, hot gases flowing. If I fly slightly out of balance in a turn, I wince, because I sense the stress and torque I’m putting on my poor baby’s tail boom. If my landing is a little firmer than I am used to, I feel bad, because I’m being rough on my baby. Heaven forbid that I ever, EVER, really broke it. By flying into something, or doing something really stupid. I’d die of shame. I would be letting the whole team down. All of them. All those hundreds of people, from design engineers on down, who pulled together just so little MOI could take to the skies. The tip of the spear.
Flying is a Privilege, not a Right.

Well, when I say “be your own Helicopter “, what I mean is something along the same lines:

There is a whole team behind you as well. Parents, family, educators. Colleagues, support staff. The Police and Firemen and Ambulance Drivers in your local community are on that team as well. Friends, lovers. There’s a LOT of people that have a vested interest in YOU. They may not know you personally, but their efforts have been indispensable to get you to where you are now.

Heaven forbid that you ever, EVER, really break your beautiful Helicopter. By flying into something, or doing something really stupid…

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Last edited by Francis Meyrick on January 7, 2015, 2:13 pm

Ain’t nuthin’ cooler than an Old Dog learning New Tricks

The Free Enterprise System, much maligned, and chronically under attack from Radical Left Wing Saul Alinsky clones, (who know better than ordinary plebs like you and I) is probably much under appreciated. Put it this way, what I’ve seen of Socialism, never mind Communism, convinces me that American voters today take a lot for granted. Too much. Voting in “Experimenters “, who want to radically “transform ” something that worked tolerably well for a long time, into a vaguely defined Utopian Paradise, is risky at best. Foolhardy at worst. Seems Big Government gets to tax & spend, interferes dramatically with the workings of the Free Enterprise System, and then, when it all goes truly pear shaped, guess who gets the blame?? Yep, the Free Enterprise System. Those rotten capitalists.

The point is that there is an unavoidable human cost associated with our Market Economy. People get laid off. Their skills are no longer required. They can’t get another job. They can’t pay their mortgages. They lose their cars. Followed by their self respect. I’ve seen people like that devastated. Then the Guilt Monster sets in.

It’s therefore wonderful when you see an Old Dog cheerfully learning a whole new skill. The Marketing Executive who becomes a plumber. And laughs about it. The Computer Consultant who serves Big Mac Cheeseburgers. The unemployed Helicopter Pilot who is driving a truck. With a philosophical shrug of the shoulders. Ride on, never quit.

Cool dudes.

Of Helicopters and Humans (1) – “Living in a Cubicle “

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Last edited by Francis Meyrick on November 28, 2014, 4:42 pm

All Puffed Up

It amuses me. People who have achieved “some ” knowledge. Indeed, “some ” skill. Definitely “some ” expertise. But for “some ” reason, they puff up into wind bags. And then they can impact people’s lives. Often, not for the Good. It just seems to be the way Man is programmed: he just loves Praise, Reward, Recognition. Next thing, he starts floating off his little perch. Delusional. He is still hemmed in by the bars of his tiny cage, but he can’t, and doesn’t see that.

Politicians are like that. How can you, in these troubled times, have the unspeakable gall to charge $300,000 for one of your speeches? With a long, laundry list of petty demands for perks like fine food, to not being asked the wrong questions? You would think that if you really thought you knew what was good for the country, you would be delighted to get your message out for free…

But, no, let’s racketeer like a Snake Oil saleswoman. And who are the simpletons obediently forking over that kind of money? Universities? Oh, well, figures. Intellectuals morons and academic twits.

My point is that a lot of people are Puffer Fish. Wind bags. Me too. I struggle with Praise, Reward, Recognition. I get friends who get mad with me, for not publishing my stories in books. “You could make a lot of money “, they say. And I say, truthfully:

“Well, maybe one day, but right now, I’m quite happy blogging away. It’s simpler this way. No appeal for book sales, no trying to say The Right Thing, no search for corrupting Reward & Recognition. That way I avoid the Poison that seems to come with the quest for Money. The Buddhists call it the Red Dust. Just saying it the way I feel is easier. I don’t have to worry about anything else… “

But a little voice is also at work in my mind, wondering. Scheming. I can’t say I like that little voice much.

I don’t want to be a Puffer Fish, like so many I see around me.

My point is, that the longer you bicycle around this globe, the more leather you collect on your soul, the more you take in your stride. You recognize certain types of very common school fish for exactly what they are…

Remember the Gorilla…?

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Last edited by Francis Meyrick on November 28, 2014, 4:47 pm

Feelings are good: I feel, therefore I am

The Importance of Self – or Not

The Importance of Self – or not?
Amongst White Clouds Wanderers
Looking UP the ladder all the time?

Last edited by Francis Meyrick on December 11, 2014, 6:06 pm

www.stepsonmyroad.org

The Soul resides in the Greenhouse of our surrounding Senses

What do I mean by that?

Well, for it to work properly, light has to come in, to illuminate, and provide energy for growth. Those panes of glass need to allow the light through. IF they become dusty, dirty, muddy, then the light has a hard time getting through. Eventually, it can’t get through at all.

The panes of glass that make up the Greenhouse are our senses, and the input we get from our surroundings. If we retreat to a Dark Place, like into the Cave of Depression, our soul withers and dies.

Being on one end of a telephone, listening to somebody in pain, I’ve often sensed what you could call ‘a spiral dive’ going on. A spin. The input sensory system switching off. It’s not good. You can hear the gurgling sound of the plug hole.

If that spiral continues, inwards, it accelerates. The life giving water drains out faster and faster, and eventually, your environment, your whole world, starts going down that same plug hole. Here, I can prove it. I have photographic evidence. Here you go:

The trick seems to be to realize your soul needs clean windows. Input. Let the light shine on in. Look out. See the world. Draw the light. The warmth.

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Last edited by Francis Meyrick on November 28, 2014, 10:59 am

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It’s never too late to find that Perfect Love

Well, hell no.

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Last edited by Francis Meyrick on November 28, 2014, 10:58 am

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Wanted – an HONEST FOOL

In an age of screamingly strident Political Correctness, how easy it is to hide behind the blank facade of non-committal.
Long Live the Multiple shades of Gray on Gray. On Gray.

On the other hand, to BE, to EXIST, to LIVE, in glorious shades of noisy techni-color, means to be COMMITTED.

And ruffle a few Grey-on-Grey feathers along the way, for sure.

Remember the Gorilla?

Here’s a poem for you.

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Last edited by Francis Meyrick on November 28, 2014, 10:57 am

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What YARDSTICK are you using…?

HOW are you measuring?

I find that really interesting. Obviously, if you are measuring potatoes in gallons, or turnips in light years, you’re gonna get some funky results. So, how do we accurately measure our personal circumstances? How to get a fair, balanced, objective value for our lot? When we say or feel that we are ‘hard done by’ what do we base that assessment on?

Here’s a scribble that deals directly with that subject.

Of Helicopters and Humans (7) – “The Road of Light ”

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Last edited by Francis Meyrick on November 28, 2014, 10:56 am

Still stuck in that Dark Cave? Wanna Challenge? Fix THIS!

So, while you hid away in your Dark Cave, in pain, or despair, or fear, or feelings of impotence, the world has been going to hell in a hand basket. Do I expect you to crawl out and fix it? No, unless you are another much-needed Mahatma Ghandi, but I expect you to at least damn well TRY. There are some serious problems up here on the surface, and they need ALL HANDS ON DECK.

I’m serious. Look at this picture. What kind of moronic, deluded, psychopathic, mentally deranged parent walks proudly along behind his boy, who is draped in a suicide belt?

www.stepsonmyroad.org

Don’t think about making Art, just clatter right on

The suicide toll amongst artistic, feeling, sensitive people, is high. It’s the artistic types, who take too much on board, who drop before their prime. Why worry about making Art? Why worry if it’s good enough? Expressive enough? Sensitive enough? Artistic enough?
“Yah, booh!, sucks! ” is what I say to all those worries.
Whatever your medium is, just clatter right on.

Paint it, compose it, write it, live it, breath it, listen to it, magic it, and pour your feeling into it. Whether it’s skipping down the street, or singing in the shower, or climbing a mountain, or restoring an old bicycle…

just Make Art!

That’s what I do+++ Bugger it, ain’t nobody’s gonna stop me scribbling. I’ll scribble damn well anywhere, anytime I please. In fact…

I’m a proud scribbling fool. At your service. Maybe.

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Last edited by Francis Meyrick on November 28, 2014, 10:54 am