Moving On

The physical act of moving is having a very real effect on my state of mind. It's like the physical portrayal of how I am wanting to progress in my mind. Moving to a place of safety, stability and serenity.

The man who is wandering through the night with a bag on his back. He's walking along the side of the road. Aware of the passing glare of headlights as people are also journeying to their own places of comfort. The stars are out and reminding him of the thousands of years which have gone before him. He looks at the stars and sees the past and it humbles him; it humbles him to realise his life is but a blip, a micro-moment in the spectacle of this universe's history. His echoing footsteps, the dull, red glow of his cigarette, the scratching of material as his bag rubs against his jacket - they are all wonderful details in an infinite world. And therefore he knows his journey is not one to use in self pity, self importance or melancholy. His journey is part of a hugely complex system of souls and stars. His journey will drift away in the dust, just as so many others who have walked this road.

Therefore, as his feet echo and scratch along the road, he delights in the sound and delights in the fortune to be able to walk this journey. Delight in how he is able to take these steps. Delight in how his journey is a journey to safety, love and warmth. And when he sees the light in the distance. The warm glow of welcome. He smiles.

I know I have so much still to achieve. So much still I want to aspire to. But being able to do those little things (such as moving house to somewhere less lonely) reminds me each step, each foot traveled, is part of a larger, more wonderful path yet to be taken. And it's a path I want to be on.

My Darling

"Darling, I miss you so much. In fact, much too much for my own good. I never realised that you were such an intimate part of my life. My life without you is like a year without a spring time which comes to give illumination and heat to the atmosphere saturated by the dark, cold breeze of winter." Martin Luther King Jr to his wife Coretta.

King writes in his autobiography that within moments of meeting Coretta, he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. She had enchanted him. King was a real romantic who was utterly transfixed by the woman he loved.

He wasn't simply a procrastinating dreamer though. This man's legacy still rumbles through history. He fought for justice; he fought for peace; he fought for liberty; he fought for love; he fought for grace; he fought for the freedom of all humanity. The election of Obama ushered in an appreciation of King's dream. A dream which has become reality. He had a dream of utter beauty and battled against forces of hate and oppression to see it bloom into reality.

I look at this daunting figure of a man and am so comforted that throughout his immense rhetoric and oratory brilliance, he was also wonderfully romantic. He believed in love.

I will never be swayed from loving another like nothing else matters. Loving another like each breath depends upon it. Loving another like our hearts are beating in time.

I am inspired because if a legend like King is moved by the fragility of love, we all can be.

'A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.' Oscar Wilde

Seeing Red (A Novel)

I've sent off sample chapters of the novel I'm writing to an agent. Go here to read the first chapter. Here are the next three. I'm interspersing each chapter with the view of Red's (the protagonist) Intruder.

Let me know what you think.

One:

Don’t believe everything he says. I’m not all bad. He doesn’t like it because I reveal the truth. The truth he hates to hear. The truth which confronts him where he has failed. I try to help him see the reality. He dreams a lot you know. He pretends he is more than he really is. Why delude yourself? Why live in a world of fantasy? It’s not helpful. It’s rather pathetic. Yes, I may sound harsh, but we have to wake up one of these days. It’s not my fault he channels his disappointments into hurting himself. it’s simply attention seeking. He doesn’t need to do it. He knows people will pity him and say, “Poor old Red.” Give me a break. He knows the score. He knows if he accepted the cards he has been dealt, it will make his life much more bearable. I’m like a parent, waking him up to the realities of this cynical world. It’s for his own good. I don’t delight in it. I just know if I don’t tell him, then no-one else will. His “friends” feed his ego and give him false hope. That’s cruel. Why try to make him aim for something that will never happen? He can’t do so much of what he believes in. It’s sad to be so blinkered by delusions of grandeur. It’s time to grow up. Life isn’t a Disney movie. There is no happily ever after. Look at the world around us. Look at the broken marriages. Look at the pain and despair. Why place yourself in situations you know will only hurt you? It is odd. I’m here to change that. I didn’t force my way in. I was invited. He calls me The Intruder. Intruders are not welcome. He welcomed me. He asked me in. He had to. I’m like a vampire. I can only cross the threshold once I have been asked to enter. I have many other places I could be. He’s a particularly interesting project though. He really is. I find his ideologies rather endearing. He actually believes in true love and finding that person meant for you. I think he forgets about the practicalities of life. Bills to pay. Work to do. Food to put on the table. They don’t go away. Life doesn’t stop for the romantic idealism of rose tinted relationships. Well, it won’t for him. He’s too needy and perfection seeking. It’s okay, I’m here to help.


Kettle:

I’m standing here, staring at the kettle. I want to make a cup of tea. All I need to do is flick a switch. Shit, is that all I need to do? I can’t; it’s like invisible vines have pushed their way through the floor and entangled me. I’m rooted to the spot. I can’t move and I’m paralysed.

Ever had one of those dreams where you’re being chased by a murky figure? You start to run; you need to get away. No matter how much you will yourself to run like the wind, you can’t. As you try to run it’s like you’re trying to run through water. Your movements are slow and clumsy. Each movement of your legs are painfully unresponsive. You pump your arms harder to make your legs surge into actions. Nothing. Your mind is screaming for you to flee, because you know you can run. You know you are quick. You were speedy at school and you still are. But it’s no use. The murky figure advances. He is relentless. You feel his presence. His breath on your neck. His evil creeping under your skin. You daren’t look back because you know what you’ll see. Black eyes and an ugly grimace, which should be a smile. Those rotten teeth and that putrid breath.

And then you wake up, sweating and shaking.

Well, I’m standing here wanting a comforting cup of tea. I have work in an hour and my day won’t be right if I don’t have my morning cuppa.

My mind is screaming for me to simply flick the switch on. The momentum should then propel me into opening the cupboard, getting a cup, putting the tea bag in and pouring in the boiling water. Pouring that water seems a distant goal. An Everest to climb. Goodness, it sounds rather melodramatic doesn’t it?

I tell myself this. Stop being an idiot. Make yourself a fucking drink. I can’t move though. It’s like my dream. But I can’t wake up. This is my reality. So I scream. I scream at the kettle. I scream at myself. I am a failure. I cannot even do the simplest of tasks. I stop screaming, breathing heavy. Eyes moist form the the emotion. I turn away from the kettle and leave the kitchen. You have a problem and need to confront it. Not now though. Now I have to go to work and be a person of relaxed accessibility. I have to be a person who welcomes all and is wonderfully gregarious.

I look in the mirror and loathe the man I see. I breathe. I smile.

The Great Pretender.

Time to wear the mask and face my audience.

It’s a professional switch. Off and on. Dark and then light. I’ll get to work and entertain the staff with some new jokes. I’ll flirt with the girls and make up some story of antics I got up to the night before. Make them believe I’m the life and soul. They’ll playfully roll their eyes at my hedonism. They’ll call me arrogant. It’s all a game. They love my stories and my relentlessness.

I sometimes believe what I’m saying because, after all, what is reality? What is a dream? Surely my inability to make a cup of tea was a dream? The guy called Red, who is able to flirt and talk his way into any bed is the reality.

The Great Pretender.

Oscar winning performance.

That is what I’ll give to others this morning. I’ll be extra special; Super Red, if you will. Time to put that mask on, walk out the door and leave the darkness behind. It’ll still be there and wrap its tentacles around me when I return home.

Two:

It’s sad really. Have you been taking it in? He’s quite cute really. Making himself into something he isn’t. And believing it too. If only he knew. God, if he knew what people said behind his back. Those ‘girls’ who adore him. I’m not privy to their conversations, but I am observant. I see the twitches in their smiles. I see their eyes not matching their over enthusiastic grins. He knows it too. He secretly knows it at least. He knows they understand he’s a failure. He’s 30 and still trying to live like a 21 year old. They entertain him. They pity him. It’s no harm in their eyes. They might as well encourage him. Who needs to take Red seriously? He’s harmless fun. If they actually took him seriously, they’d want to settle down with him. They’d want to make a life with him. But it’s Red. Who’d seriously want to settle down with him? He’s too erratic. Too intense. He needs to face up to reality. He needs to see life as we all know it. That’s what I’m here for. I’ll help him see the truth. I’ll help him see life without the rose tinted nonsense. That’s why I was invited. Get him back in line. Get him balanced. Great Pretender? It’s not healthy. It’s okay. I’m here now.

Smashing the Glass

It's good when the glass is smashed sometimes. It's good when you see it as it really is. I delude myself often. I see things not as they are but how I would like them to appear. I place my dreams into the reality and somehow think if I wish it enough, it will be reality.

There's no place like home.

But when I've stopped clicking my heels and the red shoes produce no magical power, I have to wake up.

People lie. People let you down. People say things they think you want to hear. I know because I've done it. It's okay though. It's okay because we can all get caught up in the moment. We can all believe what we're saying because the reality is rather unappealing and painful. But, we have to maintain integrity don't we? We have to allow our rose-tinted view to slide and welcome the light and darkness to come through.

Without the darkness, how would we comprehend the light? Without the pain we would not feel the embrace of joy. Without the bullshit we would not be able to identify the truth.

Oscar Wilde writes to truly know a man then give him a mask. In his irony he's right on both sides. We can put a mask on at times in order to give a person a picture of what we want to be; an ideal. A projection of how we'd like others to see us. In a sense the mask is reflecting a future self maybe. A future ideal.

Take away the mask and see the raw brutality of me.

Give me the rawness.

I've had rose-tinted views of others and been very hurt as a consequence. Seeing them in reality would have prepared me for the pain. There would have been no pretense. But their glass has been smashed and I see them in reality and it's liberating.

Blue Valentine

Bitter sweet, beautiful, painful, enchanting, saddening, inspiring, uplifting, heartbreaking.

A film which evokes so many reactions is truly brilliant. I couldn't help relating to so much of it. A film which flits between past and present is not easy viewing. You feel so much joy for the young couple as they fall in love and enjoy the quirky moments and silliness.

You feel so much sadness for this same couple as they are unable to sustain a relationship with so many broken pieces and so many shattered dreams.

Blue Valentine is unflinching in the reality of how love can sometimes fail. Sometimes it simply doesn't work. Sometimes all the dreaming and hope can't hide the fact that it just won't work.

I have been having a really refreshing few days where I have been able to see a little more objectively about my life, my hopes and my dreams. What's important to me and what can wait for now. I need safety and security right now. I have been obsessing over my 'success' as I'm about to turn 30. I'm realising the success will be a place of peace and love for Thomas.

What I want to do is love someone and care for them and have the TIME to be with them and grow with them. A full on career where I'm working tons of hours will not bring me peace, but simply more loneliness. My emotional life is what matters, not my professional life. As I give my mind more room, I know I will come to a place where I know what job I should be doing. I can wait for that.

Watching a film where you see a relationship disintegrate and a couple losing the energy to fight on confirmed what I do find important. Nurturing another and seeing the joy on their face - that's what makes life special.

Sharing the Journey

I spoke at West Mersea Free Church last night. I was invited to share my story about my journey to disbelief. About how I have moved from being a Christian to an atheist. It was strange because almost seven years ago to the day I was baptised in that church. Now I was coming back to talk about what it means to believe there is no god.

It was a really positive night. Good humoured and full of grace and love. I'm not an atheist who hates religion. I love religion and its legacy. There is so much beauty and mysticism surrounding Christianity, we would be arrogant to dismiss it. I appreciate it, but cannot be a part of it.

I'm an atheist who believes in love and its stunning power. I'm an atheist who believes in the beauty of humanity. I'm an atheist who believes in the diversity of belief.

I really enjoyed the evening because not only did I get to share my story, I also heard other people's stories. Their struggles, their pain, their questions, their joy, their love. We all grapple with what it means to be us. We have questions and we have confusion. We also have those who love us and walk the journey with us.

I don't believe god is walking the journey with me, but I am so thankful to all those wonderful people who are. Those who hold my hand, hold me close and let me know this journey isn't one of solitude. Beautiful.

Trudging Through the Slime

We celebrated my parents 40th wedding anniversary on Monday. Lots of people there. We had the party at our local vineyard. It was ironic for me, as this was where I got married. Bitter sweet. A marriage failed; a marriage which has withstood the battering and blasting life gives.

I felt uplifted and proud to be part of a family which shows you can make a relationship work. Joe (my twin bro) blessed my older brother's three children and blessed my mum and dad. It was beautiful to see a son (who is now a reverend) bless his parents in the sight of God, regardless of what you believe. He spoke to us all (the 100 or so) about life being a journey and how that creates us and makes us into the people we are. We should embrace it.

I've had a rough week. I harmed myself again. I saw my journey as one of despair and self-loathing. I wanted more of literal etching on my skin.

But.

I see how my folks have endured absolute shit to be at a place of being able to celebrate their marriage. I see how they are friends. How many of us will have a friend after over 40 years? I am 30 next month and still trying to befriend myself.

We journey in and out of darkness. Grasping for the specks of light which tease us as they glimmer in our sight. We see where we desire to travel and rest our heads and say this is home. We trudge through the inky slime which slows our feet and muddles our brain. But we keep walking, we keep striving, knowing we can get to the shore and put our dirty, heavy feet on something cleansing and free.

I see my parents and how they have dragged each other through the depths of hell and turned their backs on the hellish.

I will keep trudging through the sludge. I will trip up and I will find my head underwater. But I have the fight and the will to lift my head above water, breathe in the air and find the shore to rest my head and laugh at the joy of the pure air I breathe.