ISSUE 66, 2018
• • • • • • •
What Defines a Successful Life? Urban Artist & Mental Health Rising to the Challenge The Day of Turmoil #IfYouCouldSeeMe Project Wellbeing News Poetry
MAGAZINE FOR WELLBEING
Equilibrium Patron Dr Liz Miller Mind Champion, 2008.
What Equilibrium means to me‌. WEB ALERTS If you know anyone who would like to be on our mailing list to get the magazine four times a year (no spam!), please email: equilibriumteam@hotmail. co.uk (www.haringey.gov.uk/ equilibrium).
Equilibrium is devised, created and produced by . students with experience of the mental health system.
Photo copyright remains with all individual artists and Equilibrium. All rights reserved, 2011.
Graphic Design: Anthony J. Parke
I enjoyed writing a short article for the mental health magazine Equilibrium based on my personal experience of having a mental illness for the last 20 years. The office environment and people were all friendly and gave support on tap, especially when you got stuck for ideas or needed technical help using the computer. The other contributors present all shared a mental health history, so gelled well together and we were made to feel very welcome. Norman I found Equilibrium at a crucial point, where I found an open door to try a new healing form of writing and expression. Honest, happy, healthy. One thing I have to say, I go at my own pace and learn little lessons on computers, in art and writing, communicating, and ultimately a chance to get some self-confidence and self-esteem back after being belittled and degraded and abused. I found the open light of Equilibrium at the end of a dark tunnel of life. Equilibrium gives me a purpose. Thank you. Blessings. Richard The magazine means a lot to me for the reason that it allows me to write about various aspects of mental health and wellbeing. This is one of the only places where you can talk about this sticky matter and issues surrounding wellbeing. Working here also allows me to meet like-minded people who are passionate about talking about their experiences of their conditions. Seeing these issues being published spreads information on mental health, and other topics, even further. Devzilla Equilibrium has been a fantastic form of expression for me. I have the choice to write about what I want and I can put my ideas into practice. I have been with Equilibrium since 2007 and I never run out of ideas of things to write about. I have enjoyed writing articles, and reviews about plays, books and galleries. The Equilibrium team has changed from time to time, but we still manage to produce four copies of the magazine a year. Angela
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EDITORIAL Welcome to the latest issue of Equilibrium Magazine. I hope you are all feeling relaxed after a beautiful summer. As always, we have a wonderful variety of different contributions, two of which focus on the theme of travel: Dev’s suspenseful and affecting account of his journey through the streets of Calcutta, and Ricky’s heart-warming and enthusiastic discussion on the North Yorkshire Moors Railway. We are also delighted to have two new writers on board: Angela McCrimmon, whose striking poetry captures the darkness and desperation that can underpin mental ill-health, and Erin Mahone, a mental health advocate on a mission to reduce the negativity associated with a cause that’s close to her heart. I hope you enjoy reading the work of our wonderfully dedicated writers. Creativity is truly Chicken Soup for the Soul. Namaste. Emily, Editor
DISCLAIMER Equilibrium is produced by students. Reproduction in whole or in part is strictly forbidden without the prior permission of the Equilibrium team. Products, articles and services advertised in this publication do not necessarily carry the endorsement of Equilibrium or any of our partners. Any material that has been reprinted is, as far as we know, in the public domain. If you have any concerns about anything printed within Equilibrium, please contact the team via the email below. Equilibrium is published and circulated electronically four times a year to a database of subscribers; if you do not wish to receive Equilibrium or have received it by mistake, please email unsubscribe to equilibriumteam@hotmail.co.uk
THE TEAM Facilitator/Editor: Emily Sherris Students: Dev, Nigel, Richard.
CONTACT US Equilibrium, Clarendon Recovery College, Clarendon Road, London, N8 ODJ. 0208 489 4860, equilibriumteam@hotmail.co.uk.
CONTRIBUTIONS Wanted: contributions to Equilibrium! Please email us with your news, views, poems, photos and articles. Anonymity guaranteed if required.
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Image: The Guardian
Marvin Sordell
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Summer/ Issue 38
Mental Health News Anthony Macina
Footballer Marvin Sordell uses writing to cope with mental health struggles. Professional footballer Marvin Sordell has spoken with the Guardian about his mental health struggles and how writing poetry has given him an outlet to express his emotions. The athlete and author has opened up about his struggles with depression,
Davidson revealing she plans to take five months of maternity leave after the birth of her second child, showing politicians can behave like normal human beings. Article available through the Times, behind a paywall, but summarised by the BBC here.
attempted suicide and the racist abuse he
Symptoms of mental health disorders for
has suffered in the beautiful game.
one in three freshers.
Full interview available here. Conservative politician rules out leadership bid for the sake of her mental health.
The Scottish Conservative leader, Ruth Davidson, has opened up to the Sunday Times about her history of self-harm and depression, explaining that she values her “mental health too much” to put herself forward for that role. She once described being Prime Minister as “the loneliest job in the world” when referring to David Cameron’s time in office. Her reluctance to leave Edinburgh is due to her pregnancy, with
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The onset of school and university is a stressful time for many young people, compounded by pressures such as moving from home and financial struggles. So it’s no wonder a new study that’s part of a World Health Organisation initiative found such a high rate of symptoms of disorders among first year students. Depression, anxiety and substance abuse are all common, with a median onset of fourteen, meaning many students arrive with these symptoms. Full article available here.
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Summer/ Issue 38
#IfYouCouldSeeMe Project Erin Mahone
#IfYouCouldSeeMe is a multime-
conversations around mental health
dia storytelling project designed to
is essential if we ever expect to have
change the way we see ourselves
comprehensive, effective services
and one another. We are commit-
to help people recover. We have to
ted to spreading compassion and
speak out. #IfYouCouldSeeMe was
making change through art. People
only an idea, an intention, until these
don’t take the time to see each other. We make judgments, we attach labels, we assume, we often do not see. I believe in seeing, hearing, learning and being present with one another. We believe in the power of Stories for Change. These art and storytelling events shine light into the darkness, help us all to see the humanity in ourselves and in others, and can be the place where big change begins. The normalisation of
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brave people had the courage join me in bringing it to life. In its most recent iteration, seven magnificent women shared their #IfYouCouldSeeMe stories of bipolar disorder, addiction, sexual trauma and depression. In the months leading up to the live event, participants meet one to two times per month to develop their performance pieces, build a group dynamic and have their portraits taken.
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I live with anxiety and depression.
go to our parents, having faith that
During #IfYouCouldSeeMe events,
they will guide, support and nurture us
I address what that feels like in the
in our uncertainty.
mundane, everyday applications of
My great-grandmother was a
my life. Sometimes I sing. We speak
Ukrainian, Jewish immigrant, expelled
about our mental health diagnoses,
from her birth home for the crime of
sharing stories of triumph, disappoint-
existing as a Jew. When her young-
ment and perseverance. Our pictures
est child, a sweet, sensitive, sad-
hang from the walls, enormous post-
faced boy, approached her with his
ers (2 ft x 3 ft) showing every flaw and
concerns that something was not
wrinkle but also bringing to vivid life
right, she told him to keep his mouth
the magnificent, individual spark of
shut. I am certain that she said this out
each participant. Sadness, mania,
of fear and love, but a message was
aversion, irreverence, hope, kindness,
sent. She told him he was fine, and if
pensiveness are reflected through the
he kept saying things like this some-
eye of our magnificent photographer
one would lock him up. That was the
and co-conspirator, Dean Whitbeck.
end of the conversation.
This project is part of a journey
It would be nearly fifteen years
that began when I was thirteen. My
until he received a schizophrenia
grandmother told me that when my
diagnosis. His ultimate saviour, partner
grandfather was about my age he
and defender was my grandmother.
began to feel something was not
When he was diagnosed, members
right with his mental health. He had
of her family, and his, encouraged
no language for what he was expe-
her to institutionalise him, dissolve
riencing. It was the late 1930s, and
their marriage and move on. No one
he went to his mother because that’s
would blame her.
what we do when we are kids – we
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She refused, and they spent forty-
Summer/ Issue 38
seven years taking care of each
healing, empowering and enlight-
other. “He didn’t deserve to be
ening experience of my life. My
put away like an animal,” she told
grandparents taught me that every-
me. My grandfather had this diag-
one deserves love, acceptance
nosis; sometimes he was unsure
and dignity. The #IfYouCouldSeeMe
of what was real, and sometimes
Project is my way of sharing with
he was abrasive, or just “weird”.
others the immense love they gave
We accepted these pieces of him
to me.
because he was also generous,
There is no end to the power
funny and loving. He was more
that comes with finding our voice
than just a “schizophrenic”. He
and embracing the pieces that we
was one of us. His life wasn’t insig-
all try to hide from the world. In this
nificant, because he had people
process, we reclaim our narrative
who loved him. Without him, none
and remind others that they are not
of us would be here. He was essen-
alone in their grief, struggle and feel-
tial. The people who wanted to put
ings of ‘otherness’. The worst thing
him away assumed that no one
that a person can feel in this life is
would ever be able to see beyond
invisible. To be seen is to be truly
the diagnosis. They implied that he
alive.
couldn’t be of value to the world. They were wrong. No one is disposable. Hearing my grandfather’s story was the begin-
Visit www.ifyoucouldseeme.com for more information.
ning of everything I will ever do that shines light into darkness. Learning to tell the story of my family and my own diagnoses has been the most
www.haringey.gov.uk/equilibrium
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Summer/ Issue 38
INTERVIEW
With Jules or ‘recording booth’, singing along to my B*Witched CD into a lamp! So, basically, singing out loud and my love for pop music made me want to get involved in music! Can you remember your earliest image: Grace T
influences? In terms of singing, I had a lot of pop influences, but my all-time favourite song is Kiss Me by Sixpence None the
I
n this interview, urban artist Jules talks to Equilibrium about her recent EP, her
experiences with mental ill-health and the magical power of art and music. How long have you been interested in music? What made you want to get involved in music?
Richer. The lead singer’s vocals are so unique, and the lyrics are so innocent. I also really loved Kelly Clarkson and Pink! Have they changed over time? If so, why might that be? While I still love the artists I mentioned before, my influences have definitely changed over time, I think mainly
I’ve been interested in music from a
because of the phases I went through
very young age. I used to pretend I
growing up, at school and in university.
was the sixth member of the Spice Girls,
I went from pop music to garage (So
performing on top of my parents’ sofa
Solid Crew, Craig David and Mis-Teeq).
when I was a kid. I would turn every
When I was a teenager, I was banging
room in the family house into a stage
out rock and indie music - Paramore,
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You Me at Six, Coldplay, Keane and
it’s unique. If I had to describe it, it’d
System of a Down were my favourites.
be experimental melodies and lyrical
Naturally, I also wanted to be in a
rhymes.
band! But as I turned eighteen and moved away for university, I had a
Can you talk about your EP? What
Japanese housemate, who introduced
inspired your lyrics? How long did it
me to Japanese hip-hop artists,
take to write the songs and produce
such as M-flo, Rip Slyme and Teriyaki
the album?
Boyz. Teriyaki Boyz have actually
The concept of the EP was to retell my
collaborated with some of my favourite personal journey with mental health; American rappers - Kanye West, Busta
I wanted it to be like a storybook,
Rhymes and Pharrell Williams! My
with each song being a chapter/
younger sister also introduced me to
stage/emotion of the journey. I keep
Korean pop music, and, through that,
a notebook with me, in case I want
I researched other genres such as
to write down what I’m feeling in that
hip-hop & R&B in Asia. I was naive at
precise moment, so some of the lyrics
the time, because I was really blown
came from that. Others were inspired
away when I saw individuals who
by various events that took place in my
represented my culture performing
life. I’ve had the idea for the EP since
those genres. At that point, I thought:
summer last year but didn’t work on it
“I want to try rapping, too!” I try
properly until October, all the way to
to incorporate all of these musical
March this year. The timing for writing
influences into my music now.
and producing varied; for example, Pink Skies was completed in two
How has your own music changed
sittings, whereas Bad Day took a bit
over time? How would you describe
longer.
your music at the moment? My lyric writing structure hasn’t really
What are your experiences with mental
changed, but I find that the more I
health?
practise my delivery and flow, the freer
I have always suffered from having
my music becomes. I’d like to think
low confidence and anxiety. I used
my music is not predictable and that
humour against myself and gained a
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Summer/ Issue 38
lot of weight due to this. However, as
which can help people understand
an adult, it became worse when I kept
what they’re going through or what
thinking constantly: “What if I was in a
mental health is. It’s very easy to think
better place? Wouldn’t I be happier
the world is against you when you
than I am now?” And it just manifested
feel like you’ve hit rock bottom, but
as deeper, darker thoughts. Those
charities like Mind are there to show
thoughts turned into horrible mood
you that that’s not true and that
swings, and then I would put this on a
somebody cares. I also wanted to
back burner, because my close friends
find a way to thank them, when I was
were going through horrible times.
making this EP.
When I realised that I was pushing away the people I loved, and it wasn’t
What advice would you give to
getting any better, I referred myself for
anyone that might be struggling with a
counselling at my local Mind centre.
mental health issue? You’re not alone, and there are
Do you think it is important to combine
people out there who are willing to
mental health and the arts?
help and listen to you. Take your time
Absolutely! Art is creative. It’s a way
to look after yourself, know that you
to express yourself, and it can act
are just as important as anyone else
as a place you can escape to, or
and reach out to your family, friends
it can help get something off your
or charities such as Mind or Samaritans
chest. People with mental health
if you prefer to talk to someone in a
issues can sometimes find it hard to
neutral situation.
talk about how they feel, so turning to art, whether it’s music or drawing or writing, makes it easier for them to communicate. Was it really important to involve a mental health charity in your work? I think it’s important to showcase the fact that there are resources out there
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Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/album/7n8B UBIc22tfJrQ4XNBu5k?si=knylh4tWRsirYpOPa1j 2dQ
iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/ take-care-of-yourself-ep/1355769400
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Like Space Junk for Wishes Wendy Waters Author of Catch the Moon, Mary
W
hat defines a successful life?
identity? Are you a failure? Loser?
Love and that magically
Misfit?
designed ‘other’ who will complement,
Let’s take a hard look at the
if not complete, us? A home? Friends?
accoutrements of a successful life.
A job that doesn’t bore you stupid? Meaning? But what if you are one of those
JOB. A weekday ritual most people hate but stick with because they need the money for food, mortgage,
people who, like me, have no partner,
mindless distraction and romance. Even
a rented home, an incomplete circle
though most jobs are soulless, money-
of friends, no religion and no national
driven and boring, we stick with them
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Summer/ Issue 38
because it’s what successful people do. It’s about self-respect, right? THE OTHER HALF. One day the scales
The world is drowning in clutter, and, in the search for meaning, we are forced to machete our way through
drop from our eyes, and we see our
a jungle of labels and a constriction
perfect other half in the unforgiving light
of rules. The towering edifices of facts
of reality. He/she is not, after all, Prince
in every area of life block the light at
Charming or Wonder Woman but a
the exit, literally and figuratively. We
mere mortal, fragile and broken like us,
garner and deflect so much information
not always nice and not as faithful as
that the act of living is clogged with
we’d hoped. But it’s better to be part of
intellectual excrement as useless as
an imperfect couple than alone, right?
space junk for wishes. Call me naïve,
RELIGION AND POLITICS. No matter how skilfully argued, religion and politics are not pillars upon which to build your
but I still wish on falling stars, and I feel duped if it’s just space junk! Now, for those of us who have
faith. They are human constructs of
failed to achieve the mandated
labyrinthine negations calculated to
achievements in life – partner, home,
inhibit thought, navigation and impulse.
great job, money – it’s time to look
Drummed into us since birth are two
elsewhere for meaning.
supernatural addendums to our identity
Deciding that Earth was too slippery
– a difficult God and original sin. Even
a slope to find traction, I started looking
the date of our arrival tells us who we
to the stars for answers. No roadmap
are – Geminis, Leos, millennials, boomers
in the night sky. Only a few zodiac
– and the day of our departure, carved
appellations and cosmological theories.
in stone, seals our span. But our God
The truth is no one really knows what
is the only God and our country the
the stars are made of. Cosmologists
greatest, right?
can read their light and make some
What chance do we have of finding our own identity in all this appellative clutter?
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clever guesses, but they don’t really know. So here is the perfect domain
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for exploration. Nobody to tell you
delusional clutter of all the things we
in song, verse or scripture how you
think we know. To discover nothing
should receive the light of a star.
and forge a relationship with infinity,
Observing an unblemished
observe the stars and allow yourself
night sky, no city lights bleaching,
an identity free of addendums. You
I have a sense of myself in relation
may never be able to explain yourself
to silence. Whilst life on Earth seems
to anyone. You may decide you
stuck in never-ending loops of noisy
don’t need to. Group agreement
justifications of war, greed, poverty
has led to wars, cults, one-size-fits-all
and stultifying endeavour, the
politics and hand-me-down religions.
stars say nothing. NOTHING. And
It’s all second-hand rags by the time it
everything. Immersed in silence, I
dresses your identity.
hear my soul. In the space between
Tonight, or tomorrow if it’s cloudy,
impulse and action, resolve and
go outside and look at the stars. Feel
choice, there is potential. Suspended
the symbiotic connection to your own
in consciousness are the seeds
breath and let it map your soul.
of future worlds and lives. To feel
Forget the observable
reverence for the portrait of infinity in
accoutrements of success. Be
the night sky is to harness possibilities
the observer and conduit for the
and ignite creativity through
immaculate unknown where anything
considered choice. Authentic choice.
is possible, and NOTHING exists in
If the vast majority of people are
symbiotic harmony with EVERYTHING.
stuck in socially acceptable routines,
Consider the possibility that, within
then freedom exists in the unmapped
you, all and nothing coexists in
inner terrain of I AM-ness. We need
perfect harmony. And then, hit the
time and silence to explore this
reset button.
territory, not more rules, prayers or data. Time and silence to bypass the
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Summer/ Issue 38
Angela McCrimmon
Duvet Day
Stage Fright
I woke up today with that feeling inside,
Today I picked up my paper and pen,
Can’t face the world, I just want to hide.
I sighed and put it back down again.
Not sure I can wear my trademark smile,
I stared at the space in front of me,
Not sure I can walk yet another mile.
Blank, right where my words should be.
I’m filled with that feeling of such deep dread,
I tried, but it was soon over and done,
I overthink all the things that they said.
My hands were cold, and my heart felt numb.
Paranoia sets in, yet they cannot see,
My vocabulary had disappeared,
This is just a regular day for me. They think that I’m weak, They don’t see that I’m strong, I’ve been fighting this battle for so, so long. I’m tired, but I know I’ll continue to fight, So desperate to turn the wrong into right. So desperate it seems I’m misunderstood, They don’t take the time, even those that should.
‘Stage Fright’ like I’d always feared. I looked around, desperate to see, Something that stirred inside of me. Something that could touch my soul, Make this emptiness seem whole. The words are usually always there, We’re always together, always a pair.
“Attention seeking” they continue to say,
Never have we fallen apart,
So I continue to push my feelings away.
I end the sentence when they start.
I can’t face the world, I’m too tired to try,
I felt frustrated, wound up inside,
So drained of the tears I don’t want to cry.
Panic or grief, I couldn’t decide.
So scared for fear they might never stop,
The fear stopped me in my tracks,
I cancel my plans and just say I forgot.
It was in that moment I realised that...
I don’t forget; they just won’t understand,
Sometimes you need to quiet the mind,
But today I’m not sure, not sure if I can
It’s often in silent moments you find
Step into the world, climb out of my bed,
The subconscious thoughts that long to escape,
So I think I’ll stay under my duvet instead.
Put down your pen, take a deep breath and wait.
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The Day of Turmoil Dev Chatterjea
I
t was late 1984. For reasons I can’t
and the rest of the family. Up to the end
remember, the three of us, my mother,
of October that year, things were still
brother and I, were living in Calcutta
sour between the Sikhs in Punjab and
(before it became Kolkata) with my
the Prime Minister, Indira Gandhi. News
father’s side of the family. Both my
of the storming of the Sikhs’ holy temple
brother and I had been enrolled in a
(the Golden Temple in Amritsar) was still
school called Calcutta International
on people’s minds, but my seven-year-
School, a place where children from
old brother and I were oblivious to this.
other parts of the world, including
Well, we had some knowledge of the
Indians, aka Non-Resident Indians,
situation because of the interactions
would come to study. Most of them,
between Sikhs and members of the
like me and my brother, were only there
public.
for a short time. Back then, I was a
Things would get really bad on
rather naïve, goofy nine-year-old, who
Wednesday, 31st October 1984. The
had somehow mastered the Bengali
day had started like every other day:
language very quickly. The school was
Mother was getting us ready for school;
in the southern part of the city, and we
my uncles were screaming about
lived in the northern part.
something or other; my cousin and aunt
The whole year had been scarred
were rushing to get to their respective
by family troubles, illness, family politics
schools. Our dad had decided that he
and the shocking death of my favourite
would take us to school. Nothing had
auntie. It was around mid-October
gone wrong yet. The school morning
that my dad flew over from London to
was the same: classes, assembly and
spend some time with the three of us
lunch. It was in the afternoon when
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things changed. Lunchtime had
against the Prime Minister and the
ended, and a group of teachers had
northern half, which was in favour of
rushed us into our classrooms. They
her. This was a big problem for me and
looked tense. It was obvious that
my brother. We were on the wrong
something had happened, but the
side of the city, and we needed to
teachers were keeping things quiet
get back home. Back in the safe
so that the students would not get
boundaries of our school, the staff
frightened. We were left alone.
rushed to their classes and pulled out
An hour went by, and the
all the older brothers, asking us all to
atmosphere in the school started to get go and collect our younger siblings. tense. The students had started to get
Hearing this, I worried about what
worried and were wondering where
was going to happen to us and if my
all the teachers were. It transpired that
brother and I were going to be alright.
they were in the library, watching the
I ran to my brother’s classroom on
news like a hawk. Suddenly, without
the ground floor. As I burst in, I said: “I
any warning, a teacher rushed into
am here for my brother.” His teacher
my classroom. She started to mutter in
hurried over to me and murmured,
a panicky voice: “The Prime Minister
“You know what has happened, don’t
of India, Indira Gandhi, has been
you?” Gathering my breath, I replied,
assassinated by her Sikh bodyguard.”
“The Prime Minister is dead, and there
At this point, my nine-year-old brain
is some rioting going on.” The teacher
realised that this was not going to go
smiled and beckoned to my brother.
well.
“You have to be brave; you and your
Outside the secure school grounds,
brother are on the wrong side of the
rioting had started in the four main
city.” Feeling scared, I looked over at
cities, including Calcutta. This city had
my brother and took a deep breath.
been split into two rioting groups: the
We walked to the main gate where the
southern half of the city, which was
other siblings were gathered. Our head
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Summer/ Issue 38
teacher, Mrs Venkateshwar, walked
driver and his friend (who was sitting in
up to us. Speaking in a firm voice, she
the seat next to him) took us on board.
told us that our parents had been
This was a big risk for us, as the Prime
informed and were on their way.
Minister was killed by a Sikh, and, at
After a short while, our dad arrived,
that time, people were not happy
trying to keep a calm face. He
with them to say the least. The driver
pointed at us and muttered to our
looked at the three of us. He pointed
head teacher: “They’re my sons. I
at our innocent faces and smiled,
have come to collect them.” I looked
saying a prayer as he slowly started to
back at him. I knew things were not
drive through small, winding streets in
right. For a nine-year-old boy, this
order to avoid the trouble on certain
was very scary. We could hear the
roads. Throughout this journey, we
sounds of car windows being broken
could hear people screaming and
and people screaming. I looked at
shouting, things breaking, guns going
my brother’s face and realised that I
off. And it got louder each time.
had to be strong. Grabbing his hand,
Unfortunately for us, we were
I walked over to my dad, who, like
heading in the direction of the chaos.
me, was keeping a calm face but was
Eventually, we got to a point where
clearly very worried inside.
we had reached the boundary
Holding our dad’s hands, we
between north and south, a famous
slowly walked down the road, asking
road that was a tourist spot and a
reluctant cab drivers if they would
very good shopping district. It looked
take us to our house in north Calcutta.
a lot like a war zone, with homemade
None of them would. The three of us
bombs going off, stones bouncing off
kept on walking down the bumpy
the cab roof, people shouting, “Get
road, which was filled with stones,
them!” Our hearts started to pound
sticks and glass. Eventually, after
like heavy and fast drums. Eventually,
several nervous minutes, a Sikh taxi
we entered a road covered in sacks
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EQUILIBRIUM 21
and barricades. Seeing this, Dad
This did not last. Luckily, we had
pushed our heads down as the car
made it to the northern side of the
went down the road. It was as if he
city. The riots were still going on around
was protecting us from any flying
us while we were going down the
objects that could come through the
alleyways. As we approached the
back window of the car. After a few
main road, a group of rioters came
seconds, several violent men rushed
charging towards us. A heavy stone
over with sticks. They were shouting,
flew in our direction, bouncing off
“Hit them! Destroy them!” They were
the car bonnet. The driver started to
also carrying a Khara (a regional
reverse the taxi, retreating down the
slang word for a sword with a curved
alleyway. Suddenly, the car came
or hook-shaped blade), a Boti (flip
to a halt. Another rival group was
knife/chopping tool) and stones. My
approaching from the other end. It
heart started to pound even harder.
turned out that both groups had heard
The only thing that stopped me from
about each other and were heading
freaking out was my brother’s strangely
towards one another. And, just to
calm face. It was as if he knew that
make things more interesting, we were
everything would be alright. The taxi
in the middle of those two groups,
driver leapt out and shouted, “What
both of which were getting closer. As
are you doing? There are children in
we shuffled between them, we were
this car!” It did not stop there. Seeing
pelted with stones, sticks and bottles.
the bright yellow taxi, the men started
They were even more violent because
to throw heavier stones as they got
our driver was a Sikh, and it was a Sikh
closer. The driver drove quickly down
that had killed the Prime Minister. As
the road and began turning into
they ran towards us, the rioters could
narrow, bendy alleyways. Gradually,
see his bright blue turban through the
the taxi started to slow down as the
taxi’s windows. Suddenly, a stone flew
streets became calmer.
through the rear window and over
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Summer/ Issue 38
my head, bouncing off the front
major cities before her cremation
seat. It was clear that the stone was
in Delhi. As for the bodyguard who
aimed at the driver’s turban. Both
killed her, he was sentenced to
my brother and I were holding on to
life in jail. As a result of this event,
each other, scared and shaking as
tensions were rife between the
the stone flew by us.
Sikhs and the rest of India. However,
Dad looked around to find a way
since Manmohan Singh (a Sikh) has
out of the alleyway and saw one
become Prime Minister, tensions
leading to a main road. We could
have reduced somewhat.
still hear the rival groups shouting at
For the following fifteen years, I
one another: “Get them! Let’s beat
was petrified of going out by myself.
them to a pulp!” Seeing a small open
In those first eight years, I needed
area, the driver manoeuvred the
to have one of my parents with
car through the alleyway and on
me wherever I went. Up until 2009
to the main road. Taking a chance,
I was really scared of large crowds
we drove through the roads paved
of people or any large marches
with sticks, broken bottles and knives,
taking place in the area. Even after
straight into a neighbour’s garage.
returning to the UK in 1986, I would
For the next two weeks, everyone
find it very difficult to be in crowds;
spent their time indoors, and for
in fact, I would freeze. Whenever
the first and only time in the city’s
there was turmoil or violent situations
history, the roads were empty, with
going on in the world, I would recall
the exception of the army and
that day in 1984. As I grew up, I
the police driving down the empty
gradually realised that this fear was
streets to see if everything was okay.
making it difficult for me; I could not
After two weeks, the government
do anything. I realised that the only
decided to take Indira Gandhi’s
way to get rid of my fears was to
body through the streets of all the
face them, and that’s what I did until
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Summer/ Issue 38
Rising to the Challenge Learning to play the violin
Anthony J. Parké
O
ne of the biggest challenges
persisted with it. In fact, I couldn’t
I’ve encountered as an adult
put it down. I played every day for
is, unquestionably, learning to play
a minimum of thirty minutes. Never
the violin. With little or no musical
more than an hour. Then it dawned
background (other than knowing a
on me that I was obsessed with
handful of guitar chords), I decided
something in particular: rising to the
to take up the violin. This happened
challenge. This instrument defied
on the back of my seven-year-old
every element of so-called skill and
daughter taking up this instrument
hand dexterity I could throw at it.
several weeks before. My aim was
Nothing made it sound good. Nothing
only to help her. I personally had
but time…
no interest. Little did I know I would become completely obsessed by it. Learning to play the violin brought
As I looked into the instrument, I soon realised that the violin is considered one of the most difficult
barely any gratification in the first few
instruments to learn/master. If not the
months. I could’ve easily decided
most difficult. For one, it has no frets.
that it was unbearably noisy and
If you tap a C on the piano, you get
not for me. But, for some reason, I
a C. On a violin, you have to find the
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EQUILIBRIUM EQUILIBRIUM 25
C by ear. Once found, it only gets you so far. Tap the piano C, and you get a
read music. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve
perfect C. Play a C on the violin, and
begun to take on something new, only
it can sound completely horrendous.
to watch it fall by the wayside. Usually
Why? Because there are a multitude
from disinterest or a presumed inability.
of variables involved when playing a
I recall travelling to India, purchasing
note. Many elements have to coincide
a sitar, taking lessons, returning to
to make it a pleasurable sound. Most
England, taking a few more lessons,
come from bow technique. Believe
then leaving its case untouched for
me when I say volumes have been
the next thirty years. I had notions of
written on simply having correct bow
learning to sculpt in clay; two years
technique. I fought relentlessly with my
later, the clay remains unused in the
bow for a year.
fridge. I had notions of writing a book
I have just passed the one-year
of fiction. Two failed drafts, and the
mark. Now I have come to an impasse.
idea was hurriedly shelved. Where this
There is a gaping hole staring at me. To
inability to follow through leaves one,
progress, I have to deal with this hole.
I couldn’t say. What I can say is that
You see, I can’t read music. So far, I
pushing through the numerous levels
have been 100% self-taught. Playing
of resistance I’ve experienced with the
by ear. But, finally, I succumbed. I
violin has left me with a profound sense
have found a violin teacher who, for
of achievement. We can build pictures
thirty minutes, once a month, gives me
in our minds of how we think we are:
feedback. Her feedback suggests that,
“I cannot do this, I cannot do that…”
if I want to progress, I have to learn to
etc. For an entire lifetime I’ve held a
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Summer/ Issue 38
hitherto unshakeable belief that I
beautiful challenge. Playing the
cannot read music, that it involves
violin beautifully, competently, is a
too much work. Growing up, I never
dream I’ve held since picking up the
knew anyone who could read music.
instrument just over twelve months
But each day I happily watch this
ago.
myth crumble as I delve deeper and
With sight-reading in my future
deeper into Etudes (special studies
arsenal, I’m considering the possibility
designed to improve reading and
of taking music grades - alongside
technique). My entire focus has
my daughter. Together, we’re
shifted entirely to grasping a strong
growing as musicians, and it has
foundation of sight-reading. To grow
created a special bond between
as a violinist, this skill is required.
us. In this special relationship, we are
Currently, two weeks have passed since starting this new challenge,
both teacher and student. So, I look forward to the next
and I can now read music.
twelve months and beyond. There
Competently? Not in the least. It is
are some challenges in life that we
slow and arduous. Surrounded by a
shy from and others that we just
sense of impossibility. Playing by ear,
can’t help embracing. When you
I usually play Satie or Shostakovich.
feel that connection, that embrace,
However, now that I’m sight-reading,
it makes the journey a whole lot
I play Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star! One
more enjoyable, a force impossible
step backward, for several steps
to deny!
forward. Once more, I’m faced with a challenge. But it really is a
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Summer/ Issue 38
The North Yorkshire Moors Railway Ricky Writes
T
his article is about one of Britain’s
Geography, about the forming of the
many heritage steam railways: the
Newtondale Gorge, through which much
North Yorkshire Moors Railway, which runs from Pickering to Whitby on the Yorkshire coast. In 2017, it celebrated the 50th
of the railway runs. Go back 10,000 years to the last ice age. The North Sea was full of ice, which meant that surface water on
anniversary of when it was founded
the moors was not able to flow into it.
in 1967, two years after the closing of
As a consequence, Lake Eskdale and
the line by British Railways as part of
Lake Wheeldale were formed. Water
the infamous ‘Beeching Axe’. Known
from these lakes then gouged out
then as the North Yorkshire Moors
Newtondale Gorge and formed Lake
Railway Preservation Society, it is now
Pickering. Water from that carved out
the premier heritage railway in Britain
Kirkham Abbey Gorge and continued
and, quite likely, the world, with over
south-west towards York. Kirkham Abbey
350,000 passenger journeys a year. It has
Gorge is used by the York to Scarborough
become a registered charity.
railway line to this day. Newtondale and
History, Geography and Scenery But what of its history, geography, scenery and development? I don’t know much about the area around the beginning of time, but a lot is known, as it is taught in A-level
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Kirkham Abbey Gorges are known as ‘glacial overspill channels’. Early 1800s Let’s skip forward to the early 1800s and the coming of the railway. Apparently, Whitby was worried.
EQUILIBRIUM EQUILIBRIUM 29
Whaling and ship-building were in abrupt
conquered by pile-driving Baltic fir,
decline, and mineral workings on the
heather stuffed in sheepskins and whole
cliffs had fallen on hard times. Frustration
trees and hurdles covered in moss to
increased. Local forests were very
secure a firm foundation. There was an
productive, stone quarrying had begun
inclined plane of 1 in 10 or 10% (as steep
at Goathland and limestone was worked
as Muswell Hill, here in Haringey) rope-
at Pickering, but, in all three cases,
worked at Beck Hole near Goathland.
development was hindered by the lack
Traffic exceeded expectations from
of direct communication needed to
the outset, but there were also financial
transport the materials.
difficulties due to the actual cost of
In this era of uncertainty, there was
construction being grossly in excess of
a significant meeting in railway history
the estimate. (Things haven’t changed,
when my namesake, George Hudson
have they?) Hudson declared that the
‘the Railway King’ (no known relation),
best way of rejuvenating the railway was
came to Whitby in 1834 and, by chance,
to turn Whitby into a holiday resort, and
met ‘the Father of Railways’, George
rows of terraced boarding houses were
Stephenson, and they became firm
built on the West Cliff, where George
friends. George Stephenson was asked
Street and Hudson Street remain to this
for his comments on building a simple
day.
horse-drawn line, and he came down in favour of it. An Act of Parliament was obtained
In 1845, the line was re-built for steam locomotive haulage rather than horses, and a larger tunnel was constructed
in 1833 without opposition, and a survey
at Grostmont, the original one now
went ahead. The first sod was cut on
being a footpath to the North Yorkshire
the 10th September 1833 at Whitby,
Moors Railway’s locomotive repair
and construction proceeded rapidly.
sheds. Whitby got a new lease of life
The River Esk was crossed nine times by
due to the local mining of jet, which
bridges between Whitby and Grosmont,
crept into popularity when Queen
and at Grosmont there was a tunnel.
Victoria selected it for mourning her late
Fen Bog, 20 feet deep, near the present
husband, Prince Albert.
Fylingdales Early Warning Station, was
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In October 1861, the rope on the
Summer/ Issue 38
incline broke, and, although there
and the track bed is now a footpath
were no fatalities then, worse
called the Heritage Rail Trail. There is
happened in 1864 when the rope
a lovely, convenient, unspoilt pub at
snapped again, and two people were
Beck Hole, a few yards from the foot
killed. A four-and-a-half-mile deviation
of the incline and, personally, well-
was built at a steep gradient for a
recommended! Diesel multiple units
railway (1 in 49).
(two or three carriages joined together
The line had been linked to the York
with a diesel engine under one of
to Scarborough railway in 1845 by a
them) were introduced in 1958 and
branch from Malton to Pickering, and,
seemed to be a lifeline, but, although
with the opening of the deviation,
packed on summer weekends, there
there were through coaches from
were all too many empty seats,
London King’s Cross in the summer.
midweek and midwinter.
In the First World War, six miles of the track from Levisham to Pickering were reduced from a double-track to a
Beeching The Beeching plan proposed that
single-track, the rails being destined for
all rail routes to Whitby be withdrawn,
the war effort in France. Unfortunately,
but, after a local outcry, the line from
the ship carrying the rails was sunk in
Middlesborough via the Esk Valley and
the English Channel, so they never
Grosmont was spared and is still in
arrived.
existence. Harold Wilson, in opposition,
1945 and after After the Second World War, excursions, scenic rail tours and
said he would save the Grosmont to Pickering line, but, when he became Prime Minister, he changed his mind, and the line was closed.
through coaches to and from London all reappeared in the summer months, but the upsurge in private motoring led to a considerable drop in passengers. The branch to the foot of the incline at Beck Hole was closed,
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This article will be continued in the next issue. It will discuss the re-opening of the line by the North Yorkshire Moors Railway Preservation Society and then how I became involved with this charity as a member and volunteer.
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Summer/ Issue 38
What Do Burnouts and Skyscrapers Have in Common? Liv Johannesson
I
woke up one morning…
bump, impact and trauma, tension
contemplating…that a burnout is like
builds within it. It doesn’t show, and
breaking glass.
the surface looks the same. Scratches
A few years ago, the American TV
or dents might not be visible, but the
programme MythBusters were testing a
tension is there. “Probably for 10,000
myth about a lawyer who repeatedly
times, nothing will happen, but you
threw himself against the window of the
are dealing with a very brittle material,
skyscraper where he worked to prove
and it doesn’t give you any warning …
that they are unbreakable. One day,
it just goes pump…” says Pat Quinn,
he threw himself against the window; it
a structural engineer featured on
broke, and he fell to his death from the
the show. Eventually, there is enough
twenty-fourth floor.
tension that the smallest bump shatters
The MythBusters simulated this
the glass into a million pieces. The
situation: the reasonable weight of the
MythBusters continued their tests,
person, the reasonable speed with
changing the speed of impact and the
which he hit the window, getting hold
distribution of the weight, etc. Suddenly,
of a typical skyscraper window glass, as
after several tests, the unbreakable
well as factoring in other environmental
glass shattered.
factors. Initially, the glass didn’t break. Glass is a tricky material. For every
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A burnout, in my experience, has similarities. It’s easy to question a person
EQUILIBRIUM EQUILIBRIUM 33
who is being weighed down by
situation described in the myth.
stress. How can they not cope with
Here is where glass and people
A? Why don’t they just deal with B?
differ. With the shattered glass, you
And C is not even stressful! It might
would sweep all the little pieces
be true that A, B and C are not
together and chuck them in the bin.
very stressful or hard to handle one
Maybe, if you have the facilities, you
at a time, but combine them, and
would melt and reuse the glass.
it’s a different story. Add to that no
Now imagine that you had to take
sufficient means of stress release, for
all those shattered pieces of glass
whatever reason, and that tension,
and, like a puzzle, try to fit them all
just like in the glass, is going to
together again. That is what you
start building until it hits a breaking
do after a burnout; try to fit all the
point. Once the breaking point is
pieces that you were made of
there, the thing that tips the scale
into a functioning whole again. It’s
might seem insignificant. Because
not easy: it’s a painstakingly slow
each individual stress factor seems
process, and there will always be
trivial, it can be hard, even for those
scars where the pieces never quite
who experience it, to anticipate
come together again.
the impact. You might sense that
Oh, and in case you missed it,
something is wrong, but the final
the unbreakable glass is breakable.
breakdown still comes unexpectedly. Just like how those who suffer from The MythBusters had not changed
burnouts are not necessarily the
the total weight of the test dummy,
weakest people but the strongest. It
and the speed before impact in the
can happen to any of us – if enough
final test was reasonable given the
tension starts to build.
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Ernestine Astharte De Los Santos My dearest Ernestine, You’re such a pretty sight to see. The thought of you engraved in me, taking the best of me. You truly live a life of dreams, heartaches, pains, all while beautifully serene. A glass doll you will always be that bats her eyes like leaves falling off a tree. When we’re together, sharing moments, leave the lights on, please, So I can see you completely all over me. You fight the hardest battle that a human can bear. When reality seems to rely on what’s going on up there… And your to-do list makes you crawl back into bed. And life seems like a list of words unsaid. Fight your fight, for there are better days ahead. Ernestine, fight your fight, for you deserve the very best. My love.
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