Are you okay?

"Go on Smithy! Fuck her brains out!"
Smithy grunted with a mixture of effort and pleasure.
"I bet you like that, don't you?" said Smithy, breathlessly.
He stopped for a second and turned the girl on to her front.  As he tried to adjust his position he lost balance and collapsed on the floor.
The room erupted in laughter and jeers.
"My turn!" shouted 'Tonny'.  "Smithy's too pissed to carry on.  She can have a real man inside her."  Tonny laughed at his own joke.
'Chaulky' and 'Knotty' looked on, egos inflated, loins inflamed, intoxicated whilst Tonny gave the girl a taste of a real man.

That's the thing, to be part of The Lads you needed a name that ended in a y.  Makes life much easier when shouting across a crowded pub.  "Oi! Smithy! Grab me another pint!"
So The Lads, with names ending in y, egged each other on as they took turns to fuck the slut who was absolutely gagging for it.

Rewind.

"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, just not sure if I want to go tonight."
"It will be fine once you get there."
"I don't know anyone though and don't want to feel like a loner."
"I'll be there my love.  Trust me, you'll have a great time.  Top up?"
Seline necked the the dregs of her wine and offered the empty glass like Oliver Twist wanting more.  The gesture wasn't lost on Lucy and she laughed as she filled Seline's glass with more wine.

Fastforward.

"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, just feel a bit pissed. Have you seen Lucy?"
"She's outside with Knotty."
"Who?"
"Jake. We call him Knotty."
Smithy suddenly moved in for a kiss.  Seline pulled her head away.  "Not so fast.  I'm not that kind of girl."
"It's just a kiss."
"No, it's not 'just a kiss'," Seline punctuated the air.  "I'm not going to shag you; I barely know you."  Seline noticed her words came out a bit slurred.  She finished her wine anyway.  She needed to find Lucy, this guy wasn't as charming as he first appeared.
"I'm a nice guy, I swear."  Smithy mockingly crossed his heart. Seline rolled her eyes.  A flash of something went across Smithy's eyes but it was quickly concealed with a cheesy grin.  Whatever it was it made Seline feel uncomfortable.
"Would you be able to get me some more wine?"
"Sure. On one condition."
"What would that be?"
"You kiss me."
"Ask me after you've given me more wine," Seline said and forced a small smile.
Smithy quickly retreated into the kitchen and fetched more wine.

Fastforward.

"Are you okay?"
"Where's Lucy?" mumbled Seline.
"Who?" asked Smithy.  Seline didn't answer. Her head flopped.
"She okay, Smithy?" asked Chaulky.  "Need a hand?"
"A hand..." Seline giggled, "Fuck me... I feel..."
"Hear that buddy, she wants us to fuck her," said Chaulky, grinning.
"I hear that mate." Smithy grinned too.

Fastforward

"Are you okay?"
"They raped me, Lucy.  Of course I'm not okay."
"But you don't remember. They - "
"They took turns whilst I was unconscious! I bled! I'm still bleeding!"
"I know, I didn't mean -"
"The police said they couldn't do anything.  The police said it was my word against four.  They said I begged them to fuck me..." Seline broke off and started to cry.
Lucy sat in silence, too awkward to speak.
Seline stifled her tears and said, "I don't even remember, Luce. One minute I was talking in the hallway, the next minute I woke up with my stomach and, you know, in agony.  I feel sick. I feel like a slag and I didn't do anything wrong. Fuck!"
"Knotty said you apparently wanted them to have sex with you."
"Lucy!"
Seline walked out, feeling sick and dirty.

Rewind.

"Is she okay?"
"She'll be fine," grinned Smithy.  "Gave her a little pill."

What Dreams May Come

I wish Ben, the winner of this year's X-Factor, all the best.  I'm sure he's not ignorant to the many shattered dreams of other 'winners' scattered before him as he walks the perilous path set out before him by mogul Simon Cowell.  For all the pomp and pumped fists I don't envy the next 12 months of his life which could either see some of his dreams of being a musician come true or all his nightmares of being another puppet, with his strings cut, horribly take centre stage.

That's the thing about having dreams, you have to handle them with care.  I don't believe big dreamers are vulnerable, vague people; to dream big takes courage.  The dreams they cradle though, they are vulnerable and can evaporate like the images in your mind as you wake.  Just as the images that seemed so real and solid as we slept become frustrating to remember when we wake, so the ambitions and desires we have for our lives can be hard to hold on to and bravery to keep pushing for them, working for them and crying for them must remain.

I dream of being a professional writer.  I dream of being an author of published novels.  I dream that what I write will be appreciated by as many people as possible.  Such dreams take patience though.  I guess the X-Factor saddens me because it upholds the illusion of instant everything.  In a matter of weeks you can go from zero to hero.  Easy.  Sign up and be the star in 2015.  Fame and fortune just around the corner.  Any creative soul with integrity knows that the love you have for music, writing and art usually comes at a price and is far from instant.  I have enough rejection letters to know what it means to be patient.

It's getting a balance with your dreams.  It's daring to dream like a child where anything is possible but having the pragmatism to work your fucking arse off to get there.  I have written a novel whilst working full-time as a restaurant manager.  That's not easy.  It's even harder when you're doing it without any idea as to whether it will even be published.  I did it because I love to write and I love to pour my dreams on to paper.

If you're dreaming of something, keep going.  Do it with integrity though because stepping over others potentially destroys yours and their dreams in the process.

Peace.   x

Terror, Torture & Time

When a person self harms it is a physical act of destruction on his body which represents the mental destruction happening and the cry for the anguish to stop.  The pain is sometimes welcomed; the pain sometimes awakens him from a numbness and vacancy.  It is destructive.  It is riddled with guilt.  It is horrible.

When a person from the CIA tortures another human being it is a physical act of destruction which represents the moral implosion of society.  The pain is welcomed by the pain-giver; the torturer is awakened to his own sadistic capabilities.  The torturer steps across a line he can never return from. It is a dark place.

Unfortunately we, the human race, have always done disgusting things to each other and we will most likely carry on doing barbaric acts.  It's right to denounce and it's right to beg for such things to stop.  We're destructive enough.  What I found disturbing though, and wondered how far we have truly evolved, was watching the interview with the former Director of the CIA.  He was a callous son-of-a-bitch.  He could spout all the propaganda he wanted about torture being an effective interrogation tool.  He could argue torture saved thousands of lives.  He could argue the benefits of rectal feeding all night but he was disturbing because he spoke with such aloof arrogance it was almost as if he was inconvenienced for having to answer questions at all.

Whatever the arguments for and against torture may be there are men and women scattered around the world who have been mentally and physically abused, degraded and scarred.  They have been subjected to horror regardless of their 'guilt' or 'innocence.' There are also men and women scattered round the world who committed these acts and may have entered a place of darkness where self-destruct is only a heartbeat away.

Time doesn't always heal.

Time sometimes magnifies pain.

Let's hope we can become a people who don't leave a mark of destruction on history but one of healing.

Peace.   x

Here's the interview:

 





 

The Hope of Healing

I'm not sure depression is an illness that strictly can be 'cured'. I'm not sure you can be healed and free from the illness. I'm not sure it's that simple. I guess depression is more like a virus (similar to the common cold) in which it can be held at bay but sometimes, even when things have been going so well, it can creep up and knock you back.

I have many, many days feeling normal, whole, happy and healed and long may they continue and that is the hope of healing. That is the hope of wholeness. That is the hope of light pushing back darkness. I think it's possible to go weeks, months and even years feeling rejuvenated and revitalised and therefore believe the cold, steely grip of depression has been escaped. There's always that crappy moment, that difficult conversation, that shit day at work that can be a trigger. Hell, a beautiful song, a touching film or a kind word can be a trigger. It is not the negatives that always invite the Intruder into your mind.

Robin Williams' death highlighted how depression is not an illness to be ignored or taken glibly because it is an active beast sometimes hibernating, sometimes plotting but never truly gone.

There is always hope though because we dare to; there is always hope because we want to. I have spent many days wallowing in my dark thoughts and instability. There is an arrogance that can spring forth from depression and it can too easily be embraced. The hope though is understanding the positive and transformative nature of pushing depression into the shadows and stepping into the scary sunshine.

When I desire an element of healing and wholeness; when I yearn for stability and serenity it impacts those I love too. They see a difference in my eyes – the sparkle not the sadness. They see a genuineness in my smile; they see a pride in my appearance. It brings hope to me and those around me.

I don't want to be cured of depression because I truly believe it is a part of me like the colour of my skin. I also believe depression is, in many ways, my muse. The Intruder helps me write and motivates creativity. It is a dangerous and difficult path and anyone who is creative knows the darkness is close to hand.

A little darkness though magnifies the light.

Peace. x

The Journey of Depression: Man in the Mirror

What do you see?  Who is that man in the mirror?  I don't know you.

I used to hate looking in the mirror because I never really knew who I was staring at.  I found I was gazing at a face that was me but wasn't quite me; it was like a dream where you're you but not at the same time.  Unfortunately, this was reality and it was weird.

I guess it was down to intensely disliking the person I was looking at and wishing he was someone else.  Taller. Handsomer. Richer. Successful. Stable. At peace.  I looked at myself and wished these things and many more but ultimately found the man in the mirror to be a poor reflection of who I wished to be.  But then who did I wish to be?

Not this man I was looking at.

Depression is a warped illness because it distorts reality and causes you to doubt every sense you own.  You doubt your abilities in every spectrum of life and therefore the man in the mirror you fail to trust because even that reflection surely can't be a true depiction of Tom.

When did I get such big bags under my eyes?  When did I become so pale?  When did I lose so much weight.  When did I lose all life in my eyes?  The questions go on and on.

The way to win yourself over is to understand how, whatever you see, there are still people out there who look and see you for who you really are.  They see you for the man in pain but still the man they love and care for and want to help and nurture.  Depression is an illness in which it makes you believe you need to be isolated but it is an illness where people make everything so much better.

My reflection may depress me but then I get a word of kindness and it reminds me that what I see is probably not what other people see.  We all find fault in who we are and depression can magnify that perception of fault to a point of wanting to inflict harm, but it's a kind word or gesture that beats back the demon.

What do you see?  Who is that man in the mirror?  I know you and I am beginning to like you.  

The Journey of Depression: Let's (not) Talk about it

Oh crap, he's started talking about depression; time to look for an escape route.  Doesn't he know how awkward it is listening to his stories about it?  Why doesn't he just go to a therapist or try to get over it?  I don't want to be rude but - oh good he's changed the subject.

I don't think it's simply because we're British, but talking, in person, about mental illness tends to be a hugely uncomfortable scenario for many people.  It's as if it's a topic laced in guilt and darkness; openly chatting about mental health issues almost seems taboo at times.  Cancer?  Hundreds of adverts and thousands of women wearing bra emblazoned t-shirts.  Abortion?  Vocal, public discussions about women's right to choose and babies' right to live.  STIs?  Graphic adverts about the dangers and free STI checks in university toilets.

Depression?  Hollywood actor is killed by it and we all realise how little we know about the illness.

I know it's not exactly enlightening or entertaining to chat over a drink about how I felt when I self harmed or the crushing darkness that can envelop me at times, but that should not mean depression cannot be a topic in the public conscience.  It's tricky to explain depression because it is so entwined within the mind and everyone experiences different symptoms.  There is a universal truth too and if depression was visible and somehow physically manifested itself on the outside of your body it would probably look like a purply, black growth dominating a person's entire head.  It would be large and it would pulsate; it would push down on the person's scalp creating a gruesome frown and snarling mouth.  It would be hard to look at and quite upsetting.

This growth though, would be talked about and cures would be found and discussions would be had.  Its physical presence would create productivity.

The inner emotional growth is much harder (but not impossible) to see and therefore becomes a topic almost off limits at a dinner party.  It's not to say people don't care but more people just don't know so feel a bit awkward.

Depression is common; depression is dangerous; depression can be beaten.  If you have the chance, talk with me about it because there's a lot of light I can share too.

Peace.  x

The Journey of Depression: Death is not the End

Death is not the End (Part 2)

Being a (former) self harmer and suicide attempter, I can understand why Robin Williams and countless others kill themselves in a state of despair and hopelessness.  When suffering from mental illness the thought of suicide is not a strange and scary thought; it actually provides a lot of comfort.  

Take a moment to think about that - suicide provides comfort. 

The vitriolic and ignorant views that suicide is cowardly, selfish and lazy fail to see the bigger, broader sea that people with depression sail upon.  When rocking in the ever changing sized boat of our minds we are faced with a sea that goes from calm to choppy to rough to monstrous.  Beneath the waves are currents travelling in many directions dragging us one way or another,  It is a loud, chaotic, suffocating and unnerving journey at times.  I wake up some nights soaked from cold sweats owing to dangerous and terrifying dreams.  Sleep does not necessarily provide peace of mind but another part of the day to be confronted by my mind.  When the sea is rough the boat is small, unsafe and scary.  Honestly, there has been times where the whirlwind of my mind has been deafening and death has seemed a very comforting option because of the silence it would bring.

But.

Death is not the final option.  Death is not and doesn't have to be the end.  The mind can be quietened and the sea can be calmed.  It's not easy and it regularly goes wrong but when it goes wrong it doesn't have to mean death is the route to follow.

I have been in the place of wanting death but now I am in the place of wanting life and I will fight to always want life because there is joy, peace and quiet on the sea of life too.  The boat can also drift silently across the glassy pond with the sun on our faces.

We hope for peace.

x

The Journey of Depression: The Happiness Myth

Robin Williams' death hit me quite hard today; not because I worshipped this celebrity or anything but because the fundamental truth of depression is it can still hit hard, no matter how 'seasoned' you are.  Depression makes you vulnerable and very susceptible to the dark and tangled chords of self-harm and suicide.

It was very telling too how some reactions highlighted the deep myth surrounding depression that it is somehow connected to happiness.  'What did he have to be depressed about?  He was rich, famous, had a family, funny, popular, et cetera, et cetera....' Somehow, depression has become a word synonymous with feeling low or sad and not with mental illness.

Depression is an illness that can be managed; happiness is not a right.

Why do we think the goal of life is to be happy?  How many of us actually believe happiness is the goal of life?  Think about your day for a second;  You wake up, you have a wash, go to the toilet, brush your teeth and get dressed.  You have breakfast/coffee/a cigarette, go to work/get the children ready/go to your study and then begin the next part of your daily routine.  How much of the first few hours of your day would you say makes you happy?  Probably not a lot.  It will probably be routine and therefore not happy or sad, but simply part of life.  That's not to imply it is bad, but it is simply to point out that life happens and that's a good thing.  When I get up and make tea and read the news I feel content; it's a routine that allows me to start the day.  After all, we all know what it is like if we don't get our morning cuppa - the whole day is out of sync.

Suffering with depression means I am not looking for happiness but balance.  I have many happy moments but I think it is dangerous to make people think happiness is our goal.  If I always aimed for happiness then I would feel very guilty about my life.  I have days where even feeling beyond numbness would be a blessed and enlightening experience.

Depression sucks all emotion from your body at times like someone has injected a syringe and slowly extracted key emotions and only left numbness and teariness.  When the numbness subsides and emotions slowly wash in on the tide of sensitivity it is wonderfully liberating.  True laughter after finding it hard to laugh is healing and invigorating; crying with joy is addictive; inner peace is beautiful.  It's great to be happy but for someone with depression I know balance, contentment and an ability to simply feel is the quenching sustenance of what we desire, crave and wish for.

Peace.

The Light's Winning

"Well, once there was only dark. If you ask me, the light's winning."  True Detective


I look at Israel/Gaza, Syria, Iraq, shit, the whole Middle East and think either they'll wipe each other out in a giant cluster fuck or we (America and the UK) will supply them them with enough arms to wipe us all out.  I get absolutely convinced there is no hope for the human race because we are all selfish, self absorbed, narcissistic, arrogant, greedy and corrupt.  Honestly, I love to believe in the beauty of humanity but some days simply despair at the plain stupidity we wallow in.  Why does Big Brother, TOWIE, Jeremy Kyle and the Sun get such huge followings if we're not all inanely dumb?  
But.
I also remember that we are a species who have created symphonies, sculptures, cathedrals and civilisations of utter wonder.  I remember that I am planning to get married next year and am literally, as I write this, close to tears at the joy of confirming we have a wedding venue to declare our love and share it with others.  I remember how so many songs move me to tears for their lyrical allure; I remember how I am still amazed at complexity of emotions where laughter brings joy to many, as can tears.  I remember how a simple gesture of touching someone's arm, looking into someone's eyes or giving a hug can be momentous and moving at the right moment at the right time.  As humans we are a strange contradiction and the fact I can question this makes us utterly unique.
I dare to believe the light is winning and the conflicts, death and despair so many are facing is not the final word.  I don't believe God will intervene or humanity will find peace, because greed and arrogance will always be with us, but I do believe even an ounce of compassion and common sense can go a very long way.  
Remember, a single flame of a candle daring to push back the darkness is an incredibly powerful sight and brings hope not despair because we focus on the light not the darkness.

Focus on the light in your life and the lives of those around you.  Don't become a slave to selfishness.  You are more than that.

Peace.  x

Rolf Harris

I loved Rolf's Cartoon Club; it was epic.  Actually got excited when  it came on telly.  Rolf was a legend and there was no argument.  Even during his trial he was a legend in my eyes and I found the whole thing a farce because, after all, it was Rolf - he's not a beast like Saville was.  Then the guilty verdict came and my first reaction was, "They've made a mistake."  This guy became such an icon of kindness, fun and creativity it seemed impossible that he could be associated with paedophilia.

Now clearly entering into any sexual behaviour with children is wrong and thankfully it's one taboo in Britain that will always be abhorred no matter how other countries treat their children.  But what happens when someone, like Rolf Harris, encounters a situation where he cannot distinguish between right and wrong because of the celebrity blur?  I still don't believe Harris is a sexual predator  - misguided yes - predator, no.  Unfortunately also is how people instantly use the spotlight to make money and infamy for themselves.  Look at Vanessa Feltz.  Harris may have 'groped' her but let's not forget Feltz had no qualms about sacrificing dignity and decency for the limelight.  An abused and scared victim she is not.  A money grabbing charlatan she is.

In this culture of fear I don't know what to believe anymore and Harris is either a tragic result of an abusive culture from the 70s, a scapegoat, a fool or all three.  I want him to be the legend I remember because it is sad everyone is seen as a potential deviant nowadays but maybe the trash media has finally won and we have to be afraid of everything and everyone.

I hope not.

Peace.  x

Dancing Dust

Do you ever get that tip of your tongue experience where you are trying to recall something and it is tantalisingly close but slightly out of reach?  Do you ever experience the same sensation in other parts of your life?  Do you ever find in those very rare moments of quiet a brief thought, like a whisper in your ear, or a tickling on the back of your neck or a fleeting emotion of "What if?"

We can wander through our existence doing life and all it has to offer and occasionally think we could be doing things a little (or a lot) different.  We are dominated by Hollywood-esque ideology which portrays life as an exciting and soul changing experience or by an Eastenders-esque ideology that paints life as a dreary drama where unless we're arguing or going through trauma then we're not living.  I believe though we get thoughts of 'something more' like dust dancing in the sun light - there for a moment and then gone again.

We all get on with the daily routine and there's nothing wrong with that but I know I occasionally get caught out by feelings of doing more to enhance myself or those around me.  It doesn't need to be world changing, life changing or community changing, but I know that little differences make big differences.  Recently I have been working a lot and not taking the time to appreciate myself, my friends or my beautiful fiancé - it started to take its toll.  Being overworked and overtired meant my mind was overrun with negative, tired emotions and ultimately my depression was able to take a dark, dense grip on me.  I needed the whisper to become a shout to ensure I didn't sink.

Making little changes have made big differences.  Taking time off to recharge.  Carving out time to spend with Carmen.  Concentrating on my appearance again, i.e. new clothes and haircut.  Drinking less alcohol.  Enjoying those things that cultivate my mind, e.g. reading and writing.  All these little things make a big difference in how I process depression and counteract the triggers that lead to bad things.

It also helps me in my imagination and desire to reach the goals I know I can reach.  I believe I have a creative edge to offer and when looking after myself it can evolve into something a little bit unique.

Look after yourself and don't ignore the dancing dust in your mind as it might inspire you to reach for something you've always wanted but been too distracted to go for.

Peace.  x

The Paradox

I am pleasure, I am pain.  I am ecstasy, I am utter despair.  I am balanced, I am anarchy.  I am the journey of faith, I am the void.  I am...

We are a paradox of people who are not constrained by the Daily Mail-esque categories of 'us' and 'them'.  We are paradox of people who will hold a loved one close promising protection, care, safety and gentleness and the next day shouting rage at a driver who cuts us up.  We are a paradox of people who desire peace yet cheer at the screen when a villain dies a horrible death.  We a paradox of people who worship our football heroes one day and scream abuse at them when they fail to live to our expectations.  We are a paradox of people who post pictures of the beauty of nature on our social networks and then throw rubbish out the car window.

We are a paradox.

We live in a world bursting at the seams with the weight of people on its back.  We live in a world groaning at the burden of the waste and shit and war and depravity.

We also live in a world bursting at the seams with love, generosity and kindness.  We live in a world  laughing with joy at the sound of a baby's giggle or a puppy's woof; a grunt of satisfaction after a good meal eaten; a murmur of approval at a fine wine tasted, a satisfied burp after a naughty treat, a tear of emotion during a song we hold dear.

We are a paradox.

So, when we make a snap judgement about someone, remember that they, like you, are brimming with emotions, confounded by a week, month, year of difficulties and grappling with what it is to be a human who is a paradox.

Peace.  x

Say Something

This song by A Great Big World is beautiful and wonderfully captures the heart wrenching moment when you realise the person you are fighting for will never be a part of your life anymore.  It could be the silence or the lack of rhythm you both share.  It's a difficult and gut churning place to be in when you see the person you desire slip through your fingers like dust.  Ultimately I love this song because it captures (quite sublimely) how we are a people in a forever confusing dance of love that never ends (or begins) the way we romantically perceive.

The path of love never ran smooth.

With music, art and writing though, we can always take different meanings which relate to how we feel and are currently viewing the world and I felt a huge emotional outpouring listening to this song in relation to my (former) relationship with God.

Say something I'm giving up on you...

These lyrics instantly made me think of prayer and the depths of darkness I was entwined by and how I cried out to god to take the pain away - and how I was met with silence.  I urged god to talk to me and sooth me and heal me and comfort me and all I experienced was...

Silence

Emptiness

Darkness

Abyss

I so wished for God to be a vocal and real presence in my life - I felt I gave my everything to Him when I was His devoted follower, yet the silence was far too loud and depressing.  I prayed with vigour, read the Bible everyday and urged others to join in the journey of faith.  Yet I was finally met with a sad disillusionment and utter emptiness.  I realise now that I went through extreme grief when I came to a place of disbelief.  I grieved God and I do grieve him now.  I was passionate about Him and I fought for the person of Jesus.

I have a twin who is a passionate believer in the one they call the Christ and I know many people who believe there is a God and believe he will be there when they die, but I am left with a choice; be scared of a lack of life after death or embrace this atheism.

I embrace it because I truly believe although this may be the only life we have, it will be a good and loving and passionate and fulfilling life.

If there is a God I am sure He won't hold such feelings against me.

Peace.  x

Demons

When you feel my heat,

Look into my eyes,

It's where my demons hide,

It's where my demons hide.

Don't get too close,

It's dark inside,

It's where my demons hide,

It's where my demons hide.

Imagine Dragons.

The demons of depression don't ever go away.  They might be hiding but they never truly disappear.  The frustrating thing about clinical depression is that symptoms can maddeningly appear for 'no reason'.  Depression isn't about having a bad day or week.  Depression isn't about feeling pissed off.  Depression isn't about snapping out of it.  Depression is about battling with those demons of fear, self-loathing and darkness.  Life at the moment is really good; Carmen and I have a lovely life that we have built together; we're getting married next year, we own a house together, we're blessed to have a wonderful group of friends and are close to our family - what on earth is there to be depressed about?

Clinical depression is not about the situation.  Clinical depression is about the murky depths of the mind wanting to snatch light and life.

I'm having bad dreams every night at the moment because my mind is in a battle with my demons.  Irrational fears and past mistakes haunt my dreams making me wake in cold sweats and leaving my wanting to burst with anxiety.  It's horrible to be nervous to close your eyes at night.  It's tiring.  It's unnerving.  I am facing a journey through the valley of shadows at the moment and have to be on my guard from sinking into a state of darkness.  Melodramatic?  Try it for a week.

So, I have to be vocal about my struggles through this wonderful medium and talking openly with Carmen.  She knows there are demons lurking because she can see it in my eyes,  My eyes lose their sparkle in these times and it worries her.  I know it's a cycle.  Depressive symptoms appear to be cyclical, but it's important when the cycle starts that I do everything to counter it, such as writing, talking, eating right and (trying) to sleep well.  

The demons are floating behind my eyes but I know they're there and eventually they'll retreat.

Peace.  x  

Uncle David

In a world filled with power hungry people gorging themselves, celebrity obsessed embarrassing themselves and reality 'stars' selling their souls, there was also David.  In a society that moves at breakneck speed, where patience is a rare virtue and gentleness is strangely seen as weakness, there was also David.

David wasn't a man who chased fame, infamy or reputation; he was a man who lived simply and quietly.  We may scoff at a life of strict routine but life is messy, life can be tough and life can be unsettling, so routine can bring a constant that steadies the ship.  Even when wars tear countries apart and politicians lie and newspapers sensationalise, David still bought his pasty from the butchers or his fishcakes from The Company Shed each week.  His life of routine was a steady constant that indicated life goes on and brought a comfort in those small ways of life.

Even when David became ill he remained constant in his life so that meant his dog would always get walked and life would continue onward.  David handled his illness with a sense of dignity and irony; irony because it wasn't the cigars I remember him smoking when I was a child that made him ill but probably a result of the hard work of being employed by the council and dealing with asbestos.  And dignity because he didn't announce to the world about his illness, craving attention, but carried on with life in his simple, quiet way.  We can all learn from such an approach because I know that I can be far from dignified and desire a sense of validation from others.  David lived an old fashioned, evenly paced life and his illness didn't stop that (until the very end) and for that I am in huge admiration of my uncle.  

I would suggest that David was heroic because how many people do you know who would turn down chemotherapy because they needed to paint their house?  That was a sign of a brave, beautiful man who will be missed and always loved as a brother to Jenny, Heather and Alan, as an uncle to his nine nephews and nieces, as a cousin and as a friend and as a son to Hazel and Lou, who many believe he is with now.  Rest in Peace David.

Shakespeare or Joey Essex?

I hope we’re going to move forward as a species and this isn't the pinnacle of our existence.  There is so much we can be proud of, with wonderful talent in all walks of life.  Throughout the world we witness sporting greats, who tirelessly work to break the boundaries of physicality; there are filmmakers trying to make cinema the magical thing it once was; there are people willing to fight against the system in order to have their voices heard and regimes of oppression wiped out; average people are doing extraordinary things and it highlights the power of the human spirit.

Unfortunately though, some of the truly amazing humans out there are not the ones we read about or applaud; winning Big Brother, the X-Factor and being a dumb guy from Essex seems to gain more attention and reward.  Doing great things isn’t about gaining celebrity, but I’m afraid that we are keener to watch Joey Essex highlight how woeful our education system is than debate whether Edward Snowden did a good thing for human freedom. 

Humanity is an abundance of mind boggling achievements, from the pyramids to cathedrals, from Mozart to Eminem, from Sophocles to Shakespeare.  I would hope, in 200 years’ time, our legacy is the continued creativity of the human spirit and not ‘Necknomination’, because trying to impress a fake world of tweets and likes is a sad existence in comparison to stretching to boundaries of our mind and body.

Peace.  x  

The Tortured Soul

It seems that the most creative, explosive, dynamic and barrier breaking people are also tortured souls.  It seems that those who write, act, create music and do it with a cutting edge can, many times, be people who are plagued by a darkness that hounds them.

Philip Seymour Hoffman was a tremendous talent whose eyes alone emanated an intensity that was enchanting.  He acted with his everything - his entire self seemed consumed by the roles he played and I admired that about him.  I also admired the vulnerability he never tried to hide because why should he?

When you tap into the depths of your creativity you also bring forth a lot of dangerous things; it's part of the creative process to open yourself up.  I think about those greats of creativity out there who battle daily with mental illness, addiction and the darkness of the soul and how their works bring me to tears with their beauty and power.  I haven't written anything considered 'great' but I hope I do one day, but I also understand that it may be at the expense of a peaceful mind.  The book I am writing at the moment (which is why I haven't blogged in an age) is making me vulnerable because I am writing from the heart and from experiences that have been troubling.  In order to write with real integrity though I have to face past demons as these demons enable a freedom of expression I wouldn't otherwise have.

I'm not sure I'm a troubled soul, but I am a man who struggles with dark thoughts so I have to balance my creative bursts with the warm, stable embrace of my fiancé, family and friends because too long in the darkness makes the light harder to head for.

People may judge Philip Seymour Hoffman for his addiction but we should remember that he was a human being who struggled through life trying to be an honest, beautiful person.  The darkness took him, but he wasn't the darkness, he was a tortured soul.

Peace.  x