"It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see."

– Henry David Thoreau

For those who do not feel the need to make sense of the world, it serves them well. For others, the poets, the writers, the artists, they tell their stories in an attempt to make some sense of the world they live in, if only for themselves. This, in small part, explains how art is born.

Find a quiet dark spot and listen to Beethoven’s 14th, the Moonlight Sonata, or, if ever you’re in Madrid, take a trip to the Museo Reina Sofia and look at Picasso’s Guernica, or pick up a copy of Camus’ The Stranger to get an idea. They were all composed as the artist was attempting to make sense of the world.

The writer may have come to their craft because they’ve realised that, at heart, they are outsiders, their immediate world is alien to them and they therefore need a method of expressing that alienation. Other endeavours act merely as weigh stations until the realisation hits, too late, that the time has come for them to try and talk themselves out of it.

For although everyone has a story to tell, not everyone has the facility to tell that story. Sometimes it’s given to others, knowing that the stories must be told, because we need them, subconsciously we know we need them, to sustain us.

What is certain is that whilst some are busy making the most of the world, there are others trying to make sense of it. What is also certain is that the talent being applied to this effort can overcome almost anything, even encouragement.

Words Worth Reading

We live in a Political World

We live in a political world and as much as we might like to turn a blind eye to that fact, we can’t avoid it. You may wonder then, what has led me down this rabbit hole and enquire as to what politics has to do with having a brain tumour.

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The Common Thread of Loneliness

It’s a touchy subject war, and that one day of the year when we’re confronted with the futility of it has again rolled around. I should also add, that, tenuous as it may seem, I am making a link to my own brain tumour journey.

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Err on the side of Kindness

You might be wondering who I’m quoting here. A clergyman perhaps? Or clergywoman? if you can find one. A nurse? An artist?

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Stories Worth Telling

My Mother Played Liszt

My mother played Liszt. Not the transposed for modern players Liszt but the original bastard’s manuscripts that he didn’t want women to play, or anyone else for that matter, so betoken was he to his own musical genius.

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Songs Worth Singing

Guess I'm Doing Fine

by Stephen Newman | The Lifestyle You Ordered

Great Australian Dream

by Stephen Newman | The Lifestyle You Ordered

Wisdom Cries in the Street

by Stephen Newman | The Lifestyle You Ordered

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Kia Ora. Sorry for the interruption but if you type your name and email address in the fields provided you'll receive my latest brain tumour scribblings as soon as they roll off the press. What could be better, other than good coffee in the morning, comfortable non-slip gumboots, peace in the Middle East, politicians who don't govern out of self-interest and a cure for all types of diseases, including, but by no means limited to, brain cancer.

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Subscribe to new Brain Tumour Posts

Kia Ora. Sorry for the interruption but if you type your name and email address in the fields provided you'll receive my latest brain tumour scribblings as soon as they roll off the press, so to speak. What could be better, other than good coffee in the morning, comfortable non-slip gumboots, peace in the Middle East, having politicians who don't govern out of self-interest and a cure for all types of diseases, including, but by no means limited to, brain cancer.

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