There’s something somewhat sinister and deathly leery about a small, rural French town during Winter. We set our bags down a month ago, after having our plane redirected to Montpellier thanks to densely profuse Fog loitering around the river Lot and its frost-laden tree-clad valleys, within which we were to call home for the next 8 weeks.

No sooner had we unladened ourselves of our bags, the European ‘Big Freeze’ hits. The hovering Siberian Low pressure stubbornly refusing to allow any clouds or precipitation to pass overhead, ergo, day after day after day the heat escapes and nothing, zero, zilch is retained.

At nights we warm ourselves in the converted chic farmhouse, huddled by the log fire, watching Dexter, or Birdie or Mr Nobody, or Rabbit Hole or one of the other mass of DVDs on offer as shelter from the -13c that’s engulfing ‘the outside’ every evening.

But this is what we expected, assumed, imagined. This is what we were promised. This is what we had hoped for. For years, hearing about the ghastly winters of Southern France. The unbearable cold, the frost-nipped fingers and toes, the burst water-pipes, collapsed trees, snow ploughs, permafrosted hamlets, cracked lips, frozen waterfalls and never enough layers. This is what we were promised.

But the truth of it is this. This is abnormal. The locals tell us so most days. It’s the talk of the town. Although my French is basic-conversational only, I comprehend far more than what I can speak, and this is ‘the word on the street’.

Yet as we meander through the abandoned streets, admiring the myriad greys and whites, the shuttered shops that won’t open again until spring and the occasional bark of a nearby dog, echoing through the village as everybody else is locked in their hibernation, it gets me thinking. I have so many questions and qualms that hammer on my curious mind. So many queries that I need answering else I’ll be left wondering for eternity.

How can people live here all their lives? How is everybody occupying themselves? Where do they get their money from? What do they do with their time?

I want, no, need, to know how these people live!

And then all became clear.

While we’ve been here, we’ve been lucky enough to meet a few expats as well as a few locals, and were last night invited to a wine-tasting dinner party. This part of France seems to house a disproportional number of artistic, creative individuals and the house we arrived at encompassed that completely, with a beautiful, open plan interior, floor to ceiling windows overlooking the town and valley, and some of the most amazing artworks, produced mostly by local artists, hung delicately and perfectly around the house.

As we sat and chatted, and tasted the wine, nibbled on the bacon-wrapped dates and home-made hummus, Slovenian desert, and home-fermented ginger rum, it became apparent that this was the answer to all of my questions. Right there. I was sat, nibbling and listening and translating the answer I’d been searching for.

The social life, close connections, hearty laughs and sporadic, lively conversation. What more could people really want? The whole evening reminded me of that quote, ‘truly great friends are hard to find, difficult to leave and impossible to forget’, but more importantly, it reminds me of when Tennessee Williams uttered ‘life is partly what we make it and partly what it is made by the friends we choose’. Never a truer word uttered. Forget the wide world, and focus on the narrow planet we each inhabit.

Being here, as we are, without that close-knit group of friends to fall back on is bound to encourage us to question how it is that local residents are spending their time, and how they can overcome the boredom that must necessarily ensue after decades worth of Winters spent here (in Summer, this is an adventure sport paradise, apparently). But when we take, with grasping hands, that opportunity to partake in the lives of the locals, and to truly see how they choose to spend their time, how different the outlook, how fuller the understanding, how simply the questions are answered!

A winter spent with real, close friends; drinking, laughing, conversing, eating, sympathising, sharing, shouting, tasting. No matter where you are, what more could one want? How ironic those nights spent watching DVDs looks now.

Throughout history, there runs a bountiful, inexhaustible debate over the concept and supposed phenomena of what we label ‘free will’. A steadfast, elongated battle between some who hold that God (whatever atheistic or deistic conception one may have of this), or Nature, or Physics, or Genetics determines what we do.

‘It’s God’s Will’, they say, or ‘it’s fate’, ‘it was meant to be’, ‘he was born with it’. After all, every effect has a cause, does it not? Every effect can be traced back to earlier origins for which we attribute responsibility, blame and accountability for what has come after that originating cause.

And if this is so, if there is some fatalism to all of this, is not Dostoevsky correct in asserting that “…if there really is some day discovered a formula for all our desires and caprices …that is a real mathematical formula – then, most likely, man will be certain to [cease to feel desire]. For who would want to choose by rule? Besides, he will at once be transformed from a human being into an organ-stop; for what is a man without desires, without freewill and without choice, if not a stop in an organ?”.

Would Dostoevsky not be free of error, in that, given this deterministic conception of humanity, we would be nothing more than a set of organs, placidly sat on the temporal conveyor belt, heading to our unavoidable fate and the determined conditions thereof?

Objectively, what would life be like in this scenario? Determined achievements are no longer achievements. Criminals are no longer accountable. Humans are relegated to the realm of ‘lower’ animals. It’s not likely a ‘fate’ we would choose, if we so had that capacity.

But I would like to endeavour to refute this fear-inducing position. A psychoanalysis of this refutation was written long ago by Nietzsche; “It is certainly not the least charm of a theory that it is refutable; it is precisely thereby that it attracts the more subtle minds. It seems that the hundred-times-refuted theory of the “free will” owes its persistence to this charm alone; some one is always appearing who feels himself strong enough to refute it”.

So, if not determinism, then what else do we have to lean on? If we travel too far along this spectrum, we find ourselves disgusted at the arrival of randomness- the polar opposite of determinism that holds the exact same effects- unaccountability, irresponsibility and all of the amoral chain that comes with it. Thus, is randomness not simply an evil equal to determinism? Who among us, again, would ‘choose’, such a life?

And in this vein, it appears we would appreciate some much needed justification for something in between, and tangled betwixt these two polarities. A freedom born of necessity, if you will. Not only is this the preferable option (as it saves us from both complete determinism and complete randomness), but also the option with the most evidence, if we espouse our experience.

Kazantzakis, in Zorba the Greek described his own similar idea of free will in which Zorba explains to his friend that we are birds, with small chains around our ankles. We fly, and fly, and soar above the clouds, until suddenly we are jerked back by the tension at the end of the chain. But we continue to fly, in this arch of freedom that’s created for us by our very own restriction. Our responsibility is to do all we can not to make that chain disappear, but to make it longer, in order to make that arch or freedom fuller (comment I left on Mark Robertson’s Essay.

This adds more understanding to Dickens’ assertion that; “I wear the chain I forged in life….I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it”.

This all leads sportingly to the elegant theory of English Philosopher David Hume. Hume was one of the first truly ‘rational’ philosophers, who based his theories on only experiential experience, without reference to high-flung metaphysical claims, assertions or phenomena, which invariably suffer the wonderful problem of unfalsifiability. He was one of the very few who truly took Ockham’s Razor to heart.

He understood that attempting to pose that human beings were somehow outside of, and unaffected by, the laws of cause and effect was too much to attempt. This task could not be done with appeal to reason alone, so he set about using a different tact. His philosophy claimed that humans are determined animals. We are agents of cause and effect, no matter how ‘free’ we think we are- yet we can still be responsible for our acts (what we are talking about here is a form of compatibilism).

This is because we are determined to take the action that leads to the most pleasure, or the least pain. These are our motivators. These are our causes. This is our ‘fatality’. This may not sound too appealing at present, what with being guided and directed by our emotions alone, but allow me to continue.

We have, as humans, the capacity to reason (at least, I hope most of us do). If we choose not to use this reason for reflection, self-development, fuller understanding of the world etc, then of course, we will likely be motivated by sensual pleasures, alcohol, sex, food, shouting and brawling. These are the things that give us most pleasure, it seems. We will live as the beasts. We will be ‘determined’ to do so, because there is no stronger motivation pushing us in the alternative direction.

If, however, we dedicate our life to greater things such as further study, true empathy, personal development, and whatnot, then we understand the effects of our actions so much more fully. We develop capacities within us such as remorse, guilt, empathy, mutual understanding that change the face of the motivations we once had- they uncover further pains and pleasures that we knew not even existed, and thereby pull us in an opposing direction to the merely sensual aspect of experience.

Rather than choosing to eat 10 pizzas tonight, we eat only one, because we understand the health effects of doing so, and realize that we will save ourselves from future pain.

We choose not to cheat on our partners because the guilt we would feel, and the emotions we would trigger later on would not be worth the short burst of pleasure.

We choose not to buy that expensive TV and use the money toward something that will provide something more fulfilling to our life.

In this sense, we still remain determined to act according to what will give us most pleasure or least pain (note, this is not ethical egoism, but rather psychological egoism. Pain and pleasure are not the reasons for our actions, but only the motivations for, and causes of, them). Thus, we are still in the realm of cause and effect, while still retaining and maintaining responsibility for our actions.

To further iterate this, we can go back to Zorba’s ‘bird’ example. We start life on an extremely short, restrictive chain. The range of actions we can choose and deliberate between are extremely limited. But it is up to us to use our life, our reason, and our intellect, to make that chain longer- to allow ourselves to more fully understand where our acts will lead, and which pains and pleasures these acts will uncover- to educate ourselves enough to know that in the short term, something may bring about pleasure, but in the long term only pain. Because this is what will alter our decisions and choices through life, and give us a head start on chasing what is truly good for us.

As C S Lewis once said; “For you will certainly carry out God’s purpose, however you act, but it makes a difference to you whether you serve like Judas or like John”. Hume’s philosophy makes this choice entirely possible, depending on how we decide to live our life. Though we are determined to act according to our emotions, we have the freedom to educate ourselves enough to feel the ‘right’ emotions and the right time, which will in turn push us to act in more favorable ways.

And thus when Madelein Albright said “When people have the capacity to choose, they have the ability to change.”, she espouses the exact point of this post. The idea that we all have access to reason, and rationality, gives us all the chance to utilize this in order to uncover facts about the world that help us to change our viewpoints, and alter the course of our ‘fate’, to change who we are, to improve our morality, and to make the favourable decisions for which we will be proud to be accountable. The more we learn, understand, connect, and uncover, the more free we become- the more actions, roads, paths, directions and doors we give ourselves access to- the longer we forge our chain.

W.H. Auden once plainly said  ‘A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language’.

This love- lust- for language that poets honor is, I admit, too far yonder above my own head, my own intellect and my own measly comprehension. Too distant to grasp. To hold. Too many leagues from my mind to pull close to my heart.

And simply put, this can largely be attributed to the fact that I know not how to read these poems. My inner voice bastardizes and enforces these circular words of love into the square sound of my own mind. The rhythms and pitches, the pauses and rushes are lost inexorably in translation between the printed word and the subconscious soundings of the same. Somewhere on this small, complex journey the meaning is foregone for a meaningless twaddle of nonsensical words. Shame.

Of course there are the occasional words of Larkin, and Wordsworth that light a spark that so many other poets manage for so many other people, but the spark is lit only on rare occasions.

Until, that is, I discovered the journey of spoken poetry, where the rhythms and pauses, and pitches and tempos are translated for me by the poets themselves. They are there, stark naked being flung at me as they should be. As they were meant to be.

And they set the goosebumps a-raisin’, and the lips a-smilin’, because perfectly, rightly, fully, richly that love and lust for language is being translated by a native speaker. With no room for misprints, and no tolerance for illiterate readers like myself. Bullseye.

(To understand fully, please do watch the video at the start of this post)