Revolving Around the Sun

The speaker talks about their daily routine and how it revolves around the sun. They mention being biphasic and using the early morning hours to charge their van's battery using solar energy. They discuss the limitations of their leisure battery and the anxiety they feel about using too much electricity. They talk about their desire to let go of the world and avoid unnecessary interactions. They mention their preference for living a simple life and avoiding complications. They talk about their van as a practical and cost-effective living arrangement, but also mention feeling restricted and not having a sense of freedom. They discuss the challenges and freedoms that come with living in a van and the constant need to be in control. They mention their resistance to social interactions and their tendency to avoid involving themselves in the world. They talk about their enjoyment of solitude and the boredom they feel with routine. They mention the desire for something more, but not knowing I've noticed I sort of revolve around the sun. I mean, I go to bed when it's dark, I get up as it's light. Right now I sometimes go to bed at half seven. I read for a bit and then sleep for a few hours. I'm biphasic, so I get an early start so that I can hopefully have enough sleep by the end of the night. But the sun plays an important part in providing electricity for the van because I don't drive it often. And when the sun's out, I can see that my battery's fully charged. In fact, I can't really deplete it at all while the sun's around. In the summer I could even have the small fridge on. Whereas now I can watch whatever I want, use my laptop, my phone, charge up my shaver or my power bank or whatever. And I don't even... there's no deficit really. Certainly for two or three, four hours during the day if the sun's... if it's a full sun. The battery's pretty big, so there's always stuff in it. Even on cloudy days when there's no sun, there's still a trickle charge going in. But I sort of feel a little less or a little more inhibited to use it freely because... It's the kind of battery... it's very strange the battery technology of leisure batteries. It's... you have a whole battery, 100%, but you can only use 50%. If you use less than 50%, then it never quite recharges to 100%. And the more times you go below 50%, the less capacity it... So you have to be careful. You can't just use it, you can't run it down. Batteries don't like to be run down anyway, but, you know, people's phones, often they run it right down. It does shorten the life of the battery, but it's OK to do it. So I'm careful. 50% of a big battery is still quite a lot. It's very difficult to know approximately, accurately, what state the battery's in during the day, even if it's cloudy, there's sunlight, there's sun going in, so the readings are not reflective of the true state of the battery. When it's sunny, I can look at the voltmeter and I can see when it's fully charged. I can see when it's just getting there anyway. And I never let my battery run down much. But when the sun's not out, I start to get a kind of strange feeling, like I must preserve, I can't use it freely. I've got choices. I go to the library during the day, during the week, and unlimited electricity and internet and I can sit there. It's warm, if it needs to be, I can sit there. I don't have to use my things. When the sun's out, like it is now, then I can be alone in the van doing exactly the same thing. I have my Wi-Fi here too. It's not as fast, but it's fast enough. I don't have to think about it. But as we get more into autumn and winter, there'll be more and more cold, rainy, cloudy days where I'll just sit in the library a lot because I feel uncertain as to how much I have, how much electricity I can use. It's important to have the basics, so the lights must always work. I must be able to charge my phone in here. And I can. But anything above that, I don't have the fridge on obviously now, but anything above that, using the laptop, and it's very small, it doesn't take much, but if I use it for hours and hours a day, I start to feel like I'm taking, I'm abusing what I have, that I should economise, I should keep it, you know, keep it. And I may not actually have to do that, but I can't stop myself. It's a bit obsessive, just as it's obsessive to know, like now, the battery's showing it's completely fully charged, so the sun that's pouring into it now has nowhere to go, so it turns into heat. And I feel like I'm wasting, I've got nothing else I can put it into. Everything is charged, everything is powered, and so I use it, I'll use my laptop, even though it's a nice day and I could go out, I feel like I should use it so that I make use of the sun, the free energy. The battery's full, but I still do it like that. I don't, I'm not free. I feel like I have to be aware of everything that's going on in my little world, control it, avoid feeling out of control. And it's easy for me to feel out of control, because things happen that happen unexpectedly. When I've got my little world set up to be efficient and to do it the way I can do it, with working with what I have. Any interruption in that, anything unexpected that comes along can affect me. I'm not exactly sure why, and it doesn't always affect me for long, but I have to go through a process to not be as affected. And so that explains why I keep everything very simple and I avoid complicating things and I keep to myself. I don't get involved. I've even found, realised that I'm struggling a bit dealing with certainly going to breakfast, not sure I'm going to continue, didn't go today. And I've been having less and less of the suppers, but I can go here and there. I just time it differently so that when I turn up it's quiet, the early rush is already finished. So that can work, but even that still brings me into contact in a situation I'd rather not. So I feel like I want to back off of that. And just let go of dealing with the world. I just don't want to deal with it. And that's what the van experience for me is mostly about, being able to let go of the world. Obviously I can't let go of it entirely. I'm not living in a cabin on my own land in the woods where I hunt and fish and chop wood and carry water and I've got electricity. I don't have to deal with the world at all. But this is the best I can do within my own ideas of things and limitations materially. Seems to be the best decision. I don't regret it. It has its challenges, but it also has its freedoms and it's the freedom that's important. The challenges, just part of life. We all need them. We always seem to still have them. Just when I think everything is perfect, everything is just smooth, chugging along, etc, then something pops up unexpected. It just happens so often that that's life. So I don't expect to reach some sort of Shangri-La, utopian, kind of nothing touches me. I don't expect that. I would be foolish to do so. But if some time has gone by without any real unexpected things, I can, without realising it, just fall into a false sense of security, you might say. Just get used to how it is, how things are, what I do. And I'm not expecting the unexpected, who could be. I'm not on tenterhooks, just what could happen, or anything could happen. No, I imagine generally that something good, something interesting would happen. Something that would be interesting, but that's not always how I initially feel when it does. There's a resistance in me. There's a change, and then I have to open more to, it's OK, look, it's happening, and is it positive, can I use it, what does it mean? There's more, I can unpack it. But sometimes initially there's a reaction. Rather than there not be, and I'm working on it, but sometimes there is. Later in a few hours I'll be spending time with Eliza, and there's a woman who I've given some advice to about her cannabis plant, she's growing it, I may have mentioned it, to make medicine for her son-in-law who's got cancer, and I said I'd help her, and when I see her, she says, don't forget, you can pop in for a shower, and I could do the shower, I mean I will have one eventually at UK, but it's her way of sort of giving me something, and when I'm there then we'll talk about the plant, the plant's ready for the next, and yet I'm reluctant. I could have done it yesterday and today, and for some reason I haven't sent her a message. Today a good day to pop in for a shower, and then use that, get clean, and use that to have chat with her, she's a alright woman, she's quite energetic, but she's intelligent, and I said I'd help her, and yet strangely enough I'm again resisting it. There's nothing wrong with interacting and having experiences, and it makes me feel good, and yet I avoid it. I've been like this all my life, so I have to assume it's part of the autistic aspect I experience. Anyway, I don't need to define it or explain it, I only recognise this is how it is. But I don't have much to watch, I've watched all the things I really want to watch, and now I'm sort of finding things, I've even watched all the things that I'd archived, that I was interested, again, I have a lot of time, so media, things, get watched. But I'm really only watching things just because I have to fill in time, and if I've eliminated, if I'm eliminating all of that, there's a lot of time. I'm not walking around constantly, today's a lovely day, I could be out walking, it's quite mild actually, it's really nice, tomorrow's going to be wet and it's sort of unsettled, it's that time of year, when it's wet and unsettled I like to be in, or if I'm going to go out I go somewhere where I can dry off, be there long enough to dry off before I come back and so on, whereas if it's nice, normally I would be out, but now I'm also in, so that I'm using the solar, taking advantage of the freedom to watch, to do anything with the computer, without concern, and I still don't know if I have to be concerned, the battery's big, as long as there's some days here and there with sun, just charges it right up, there's always something going in, I still use it economically, but yet there is an obsessive anxiety, yeah, about it, about not using too much, about being in control, and I don't know how to do it, no matter how much I try to be in control, I realise that it's not real, it's only an illusion, I'm not in control, I just have, I have moments where, obviously to some degree I am in control, where things are, what I do, is in my control, but I don't feel like I'm in control, and which is why I'm sort of hiding, which is not exactly true, I'm not exactly hiding, but I'm hiding away from the world, I'm avoiding a world that for the most part bores me, I'm bored with it, it's the same thing all the time, people doing the same thing all the time, that's their routine, that's their life, they're caught in the illusion, I can't be around it, now I'm not saying that I'm not caught in the illusion, I still have temptations to eat something and get this and that, that's still part of the illusion, I mean I've, I'm out of a lot of it, but I'm not out of it completely, I don't know if it's possible, while I remain breathing I think one is just by default in the illusion, that there's a way of seeing it, where for the most part it doesn't, it doesn't control me, and yet in some ways it does, I can not be controlled by so many things and let go of so much, but at the end of the day it's still able to, I live in my van, but I don't go anywhere, and we've talked about this, I've talked about it, about my spot being here, I don't want to go anywhere if I know I'm coming back, I would only go if I'm going and not coming back, I have nowhere to go like that, I've often imagined, if I knew people around the country where I either might go stay with them previously, or would like to visit them but it's not practical, when you have a van you can just pull up, and you're outside for a few days until you've had enough and then you drive away, and you do this kind of circuit, where you go and see three or four people or five people, or family and this and that, and the father over there, you just do the circuit, so that like most people see their family, friends now and again, so I would, but I'm able to move around, I'm always going forwards, I don't have to be still, I don't have to be parked in one particular spot, I'll choose a suitable spot, or be in the driveway, you know, whatever it is, and that could have been a life, if I knew people to visit. I quite liked the thought of doing that, not too far, not one end of the country to the other, but just being able to turn up, don't have to arrange anything, don't have to call, is it OK if I come, I can just turn up, bing bong, we can either just spend the afternoon, or maybe I'll be out in the van outside, maybe I will share a few meals, maybe we'll sit and watch a few things, go for a few walks, you know, depending on how busy they are, but there's no expectation, there's no, it doesn't matter, and at some point when it feels right, just drive on to the next person I'm going to visit. That makes living in a van a very practical way of being a part of people that you love, and that you care about, and who want to see you, and so on. Don't have that. Nowhere to go. I'm not a tourist, I don't need to visit anywhere, I realised that when I did that recent excursion into the moors, nice as it was to do it, it showed me something more than the actual going away, it showed me that I don't need to do that. If I want to go into the woods, I can go walking into it from here, I don't have to take this big vehicle, which now poses, makes things incredibly complicated for me, where do I park it, can I leave it, is it in anybody's way, it stands out, you know, it's small, but it still stands out, and I can't live here, and so I'm feeling anxious, I just need to be somewhere where I don't have to think about that. Well, I already am. So the vehicle is no longer a vehicle, yes, I can't forget that it's a vehicle, I drive it every so often, it will need to be serviced and checked, and so on, but those are just formalities. For me, it's just I live in it, and then I walk away from it, just like anybody in a house, when you walk away, you don't take the house with you, you leave it there and you come back to it later, same with my van, it's just an alternate way of living in a dwelling that isn't fixed. A cheap, an incredibly cheap way of living in this time of increasing costs and everything constantly rising, it's just incredible to see how much the price of things constantly goes up. And yet, I suppose, it remains in potential, should there ever be something that I can't imagine that requires me to go and be somewhere else for a while. In many ways, I'd quite like it, because I don't feel free in many ways, because it's very important that the van is looked after, I keep it clean, and I am in the public, so I have to behave accordingly. I can't just sort of step out in the, you know, in just pants on, underpants on, I'm aware that there are people around me and it's a fairly sort of conservative, with a small C, maybe even with a big C, area, and, or liberal, let's say, I think the local MP's liberal. But anyway, I don't know, I don't get involved in politics. I'm part of the fixtures. I've been here so long that people don't really see me anymore. I'm just, they don't notice, because I'm always there. They don't expect not to see it. It never goes. I'm assuming many people who may think about it, if they think about it, assume that I've not moved this vehicle ever since I put it here. They don't think it probably doesn't even start, it's all rusting away. They don't realise that I drive it every week or two, early in the morning, so that I don't jeopardise my spot. But I don't, I'm not here for other people's understanding. So the van's in very good condition and ready to do whatever it needs to do. And then I can forget about it. I give it, you know, 15, 20 minutes of attention every couple of weeks, drive around, early, early. I used to just wake up because it was light enough. Now I'll have to set an alarm, otherwise I might sleep a bit later than I want. And I do it at the weekend, so that there's even less... The road is fairly empty and people aren't coming for work reasons, so no-one really comes down here till about 8 when the park opens. So if I do it at 6, 6.30, I'm free to return to my spot. And that's what I've been doing ever since I've parked here. Yeah, so... I know this is a bit rambly, and I have been making quite a few... Um... I'm not sure I can smell toast. Anyway... I've been making a few audio recordings recently, and you get them because you've said to me a few times, I'm happy to receive anything that you record, any record you can... And that makes me feel free to be able to share things like this, that aren't very, very focused, I suppose. It's not a pertinent point. It's a personal kind of just look at things metaphysically, philosophically, existentially, in this moment, which, once I've done it, is done. But time... time has moved, you know, quite quickly. It's four months since I've had the van, almost, and, um... Well, yeah, it feels like some time has passed. A lot has happened, in many ways, and also a lot of sameness has happened. Um... Which, as you know, I want, and then, at the same time, also recognise that in many ways, there's not enough. That more life, even if it's something I kind of want to let go of real quick, I still feel there's something missing. But it's not strong. It's not like I'm constantly feeling it, because I'm just getting on with it. I deal with what's in my present, what's happening, and I let go of thinking of the past, and I let go of imagining the future, and just be here. But, every so often, usually in these kinds of recordings, it might come up that I can see that something is still missing, and I don't know what it is. I don't know if it's a person, if it's an experience, if it's a place, or something else. Um... a sense of belonging, a sense of community, a sense of purpose. I don't know. Um... and because, while I can refer to it and look at it here, once I've finished, I stop, then it's okay for me to do it, because it's not on my mind all the time. I'm not trying to find something that actually isn't findable, really. I can't decide anything, so I can't create a construct around a thought that I then follow, because I believe that's what I'm supposed to do, that's what I want to do. I don't have that anymore. I don't have anything I want to do. I don't believe there's anything I'm supposed to do. I just have to be in the present, make it work for me, you know, feel good, have fun, laugh, um... keep the discipline, look after myself, use... make use of what's available to me, what's on offer to me, make the best of the situation, and keep doing that. Just keep doing that. That's it. Um... make choices, hopefully good ones, um... and get on with it. Just keep doing it. What else would one do? And because I'm not constantly trying to think of what can I do now, what should I do now, where can I go, come up with ideas, just to break things up, to break the day, to do it differently, because I'm not doing that, I can just be here. I can just be. I've even been playing this sort of Tetris type game, free game that I got, keep getting a higher score. It's a bit addictive. I know it. I'll play it for a bit longer, I think, and then I'll just delete it, because if I don't, I'll be caught constantly doing it, and there's no point in that. But as a diversion, as a difference, it's interesting, but I don't really want to be somebody who's always playing a game. The moment there's a pause in life, out comes the phone and the game's being played. I see people doing that, and I think, I can't do that. I won't do that. I don't even bring my phone out, unless there's a good reason for it. I don't have social media to check up on, and all the posts and the things I have to like, and things that have been liked, I don't have any of that, and that explains why I'm not active on the forum anymore. Because if I post something, especially if I start a thread, I want to look, I want to see who's responded, I want to respond to those responses, I want to like, I want to see who's liked. It's quite obsessive for me. It's easier if I don't do it. And I don't really have much to say, because I can't use this recording format there, it doesn't really work, people don't listen, and I can't type. My keyboard won't let me, and that tells me that's not really something for me. I can do voice-to-text, but I don't. I prefer to talk. That's my natural way. I don't have to edit this, I can just speak. I have no idea what I've said, not really, especially if I'm really present with it, as I am at the moment. I don't know what I'm talking, but I know that I've said things that make sense, and that seem relevant, and that are flowing out unconsciously. I'm not preparing what I'm saying, I don't know what's coming out of my mouth, but it does sound reasonable, doesn't it? I even listen sometimes, I've told you. Sometimes it's interesting for me to listen to what he said, because I'm not the same bloke who's said it, I'm now the bloke who's listening to the words being said. I recognise it's my voice, but like some people say, oh, I can't bear to listen to it. It makes no difference to me, I don't listen to it, it's not my voice, it's just a voice. And I can hear it, just as I can speak it, and maybe the tone is important. It must have changed also, because I remember as a young man at college that I was embarrassed about what my voice sounded like, but then it's rare to hear your voice. When do you record it, when does it come out? But I speak all the time, so maybe it's just to get used to it. So really, it's not a thing, it's just you get used to it, and that's just the voice. Why someone would be embarrassed or feel funny about it, it's just a voice. It's the sounds and spaces and communication, and it's the thing that we do best. Writing is great, but so much is missing without the voice, and all the expression and facial and eyes and smile and teeth and body language, that's where communication really lies. Not in the written word, the written word is a poor substitute. So that's why I talk, but I don't have anybody to talk with, so I make recordings, and they sometimes produce a response, which almost always has me responding to it. And it's not because it's rare, it's because it might be relevant, and there's a kind of momentum, and I like that. But the recordings exist, even if they're not shared instantly, but they may be shared shortly. Sometimes I feel like they ought to be shared the moment I finish with them, as if somehow the momentum of doing that is important, but in reality it probably isn't, because you get to them when you get to them, and there's other parts of life going on, unlike mine, so that you can't just simply give something your full attention the moment it arrives, because there may be other things that are requiring it. For me, I have the luxury of being able to give something that arrives usually, my full attention, in that moment, because I can. And I like that, because it helps me feel like I'm in the momentum of it, rather than I get to it in three days' time after I've spent so much time dealing with other things that also need to be done. Yes, in that moment it becomes my present, but somehow I like to do it when it is in the present, when it has just arrived, when it's fresh. But that's just me. Maybe other people do it, and maybe other people would like to do it but can't, or maybe other people don't care, they just get to things when they get to things, and if they don't get to it, so what? There's so much to do, it's almost like you have to be a little detached. If you've got loads of Facebook stuff and Instagram and TikTok and Twitter and all this stuff going on, I don't know how you get to everything. The only way I can cope is to limit all of that, dramatically. And it seems to be I've been limiting it more and more and more, over the last few years especially, and it doesn't look like stopping any time soon. Yeah.