Why?
I wrote this in March 2005, just 2 years ago.
Today I was thinking about the book of Job again, after doing other things , some of them a million miles away from that place I used to be.
And I thought that the poetry of the book of Job may still have a place in my understanding of suffering.
The story is simple.
The devil is wandering around the world and gets a bit peeved to see good old Job happily worshipping and praising the Lord.
"I bet if he lost everything" said the devil to God, "he'd curse you."
So God, being a fair sort of chap, allows the devil to carry out an uncontrolled n=1 experiment on Job (not really having taken on board that such a thing cannot be extrapolated and really should be regarded as anecdotal evidence.)
He kills off Job's family, lets him lose everything, but doesn't yet touch Job's person.
And Job is annoyingly placcid in all this.
A line that often used to come to my head in times of loss is uttered...
"The Lord has given and the Lord has taken away.
Blessed be the name of the Lord."
So the devil is allowed by God to up the ante.
He touches Job's person.
Boils cover him and he is reduced to sitting alone, wondering why, as I often did. Why has God allowed this? What could I have done to deserve it? What part of his plan is this suffering?
His friends come along and suggest possible hypotheses but it is not until the end when God speaks to Job that we get some hint to what the true meaning of suffering is....
And the answer?
That there is no intrinsic meaning in it.
It happens.
Life is.
There are no whys to be answered in the sense that I spent so long asking- "Why me? Why Julia? Why Tom?" Now before, when I believed, I did have my answer from God and it was "Trust" but now God has gone, I think my answer has to be the annoying one I like to give four year olds who continually ask why.
"Because."
Suffering happens because life happens. It is just part of it, not to be avoided, but that exists.
In a way, that knowledge brings more peace than the "Trust!" answer did- a peace that religion cannot bring. Religion brings with it questions about judgement and punishment that I could never be fully at peace with. A world without a capricious judging fickle creator somehow allows a more peaceful co-existance with the rest of it, at least for me.
Maybe I'm odd, but even yesterday, as I sat and listened to the sermon about how peace cannot be given by the world, I felt more at peace now than I did that two years ago when I wrote that first entry...
Even as I venture further into unknown territory.
Maybe just the calm before the storm.
We shall see.....
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Still haven't found what I'm looking for....
When I was pregnant with Son2, all of 16 years ago, I belonged to an ecumenical gospel choir ("Sing it Sister!") and used to bolt out soulful ditties. We made tapes of the things we were learning, and at the end of one of the tapes, someone stuck this version of the U2 classic.
I loved it. Played it loud whenever I could, especially lying in the bath, on high volume, hands on my naked pregnant belly, feeling "Toby" (as he was called then) kick and leap about as I sung. And after rehearsals, he couldn't keep still, very excited by it all.
As cassette tapes do, it finally broke and whenever I heard the song from then on, I would think of this wonderful vibrant version, with the passion and intensity of the faith of the choir I was singing with echoing through the years.
Scroll forward many years to a Saturday night, sipping red wine and mixing the red drops at the bottom with the tears that were falling over something too sensitive to mention. Words had hit home, I had just seen Den and was so aware that in facing her passing, I was to do it without the faith and belief that once held me so strongly. And that in my exploring in the here and now, I still hadn't found what I was looking for....
And in more hope than belief, I entered it into youtube, and to my utter amazement, found it there.
The words still speak...
And as on an uber website far away, those who once denied the truth turn back to the light, I seem to head further and further into the darkness. This dust here is mere dust, once more all is straw.
And talking to Den's mother I used the old familiar words, not wanting to wound her in her darkest hour, comforting her with the faith I still know but do not believe.
And on a day out, back to the Glastonbury where I sat and contemplated as my faith slipped out of my hands, I headed further into the darkness of Da Vinci's cavern.
I still haven't found what I'm looking for....
....but the search goes on.
I loved it. Played it loud whenever I could, especially lying in the bath, on high volume, hands on my naked pregnant belly, feeling "Toby" (as he was called then) kick and leap about as I sung. And after rehearsals, he couldn't keep still, very excited by it all.
As cassette tapes do, it finally broke and whenever I heard the song from then on, I would think of this wonderful vibrant version, with the passion and intensity of the faith of the choir I was singing with echoing through the years.
Scroll forward many years to a Saturday night, sipping red wine and mixing the red drops at the bottom with the tears that were falling over something too sensitive to mention. Words had hit home, I had just seen Den and was so aware that in facing her passing, I was to do it without the faith and belief that once held me so strongly. And that in my exploring in the here and now, I still hadn't found what I was looking for....
And in more hope than belief, I entered it into youtube, and to my utter amazement, found it there.
The words still speak...
You broke the bonds and you
Loosed the chains,
Carried the cross of my shame,
Of my shame
You know I believed it.....
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for.....
And as on an uber website far away, those who once denied the truth turn back to the light, I seem to head further and further into the darkness. This dust here is mere dust, once more all is straw.
And talking to Den's mother I used the old familiar words, not wanting to wound her in her darkest hour, comforting her with the faith I still know but do not believe.
And on a day out, back to the Glastonbury where I sat and contemplated as my faith slipped out of my hands, I headed further into the darkness of Da Vinci's cavern.
I still haven't found what I'm looking for....
....but the search goes on.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Denise
On April 24th 2007, the wonderful Denise died. At 49, she had lived all her life with her parents, needing full physical care, she was tiny, had speech that was hard to understand and a wicked sense of fun and love of life that is rarely found in anyone. She loved her family, but like any woman, she wanted independence, her own place, maybe a man in her life, children, but none of that could be. But never once did she groan about not having what she wanted, she just went on her merry way, living each day she had as fully as the last.
And we went on holidays together, in various combinations. Five or six of us, girls of the same age, becoming women of the same age, holidays that with one exception were the essence of laughter throughtout. Denise bore being hauled around by us, dropped occasionally when we all had drunk too much gin (her favourite tipple) and had an eye for the absurd that she would draw to our attention at the most opportune moments.
Like in a quiet moment in the Blessed Sacrament procession in Lourdes. Being pushed ahead of us, behind a young Italian man in tight trousers which remained at her eye level for sometime. At a pause in the proceedings, her voice rang out, as clear as a bell for once. "Nice Bum!" she said admiringly....
She often had to tolerate being treated like a child instead of the woman she was. Head patting, patronising well meaning comments she usually bore well, except when tired and fortified with gin, when the remarks back might be less complimentary than they were taken to be. But she retained her good humour about it all, often after the person had gone, a mere look would be sufficient to send us all into spasms of laughter.
"She doesn't drink, does she" a worried comment might come, as we poured out her fourth gin "just 2 (vertical) fingers" she would call. "Lemonade" she'd say, her speech loosened and limbs eased by the relaxing of her muscles, ever ready to go into painful spasms.
One year, she was ill on our trip away, gravely so. A chest infection nearly carried her off while away from the family that adored her, but she scraped through. Not once during that week of tension did she moan or bewail her fate, and as she recovered, we lay there at nights, not able to sleep all of us, reading a torrid romance we had found in a corner of the hotel aloud, crying with laughter at the antics of the handsome dashing hero.
Ten days ago, she went into hospital for some tests. She had been losing weight and was in pain. Last Wed, a week ago, the doctors told her parents, both elderly and struggling to contain the tears, that she was not long for this world. I managed to see her Saturday, in her bed, queen of the ward, with the nurses running round her and we shared photos of her at my wedding, holding my babies and holding a litre of beer at a French cafe in bright sunlight, with her arm resting casually on the arm of the latest fancy man to fall under her spell. She could hardly breathe enough to speak, but her first words were to ask about my mother, my sister, Mike and the boys, no sound coming out but her lips forming the words.
And yesterday morning, after coming home 24 hours before, she slipped away peacefully. Her mother had realised the end was near in the evening, and had the priest straight round, who anointed her and prayed with her as the doctor came and eased her pain.
She slipped off into a peaceful, tranquil sleep, then at 2am, opened her eyes and sighed, and left this life.
"And I know she was in pain, and I know I didn't want to leave her here without me" her mother said to me yesterday, "but I'm going to miss her so much."As will we all.
The world is a much better place for having had Den in it, and a poorer one now she has gone.
And as I look at her photo here, from 15 years ago, her arm resting on the shoulder of the young Italian man in tight trousers, her face alight with that smile, I smile too and hope the memories of the joy she gave and the laughter she brought will help her wonderful parents through the next few difficult months.
Goodbye Denise...
And we went on holidays together, in various combinations. Five or six of us, girls of the same age, becoming women of the same age, holidays that with one exception were the essence of laughter throughtout. Denise bore being hauled around by us, dropped occasionally when we all had drunk too much gin (her favourite tipple) and had an eye for the absurd that she would draw to our attention at the most opportune moments.
Like in a quiet moment in the Blessed Sacrament procession in Lourdes. Being pushed ahead of us, behind a young Italian man in tight trousers which remained at her eye level for sometime. At a pause in the proceedings, her voice rang out, as clear as a bell for once. "Nice Bum!" she said admiringly....
She often had to tolerate being treated like a child instead of the woman she was. Head patting, patronising well meaning comments she usually bore well, except when tired and fortified with gin, when the remarks back might be less complimentary than they were taken to be. But she retained her good humour about it all, often after the person had gone, a mere look would be sufficient to send us all into spasms of laughter.
"She doesn't drink, does she" a worried comment might come, as we poured out her fourth gin "just 2 (vertical) fingers" she would call. "Lemonade" she'd say, her speech loosened and limbs eased by the relaxing of her muscles, ever ready to go into painful spasms.
One year, she was ill on our trip away, gravely so. A chest infection nearly carried her off while away from the family that adored her, but she scraped through. Not once during that week of tension did she moan or bewail her fate, and as she recovered, we lay there at nights, not able to sleep all of us, reading a torrid romance we had found in a corner of the hotel aloud, crying with laughter at the antics of the handsome dashing hero.
Ten days ago, she went into hospital for some tests. She had been losing weight and was in pain. Last Wed, a week ago, the doctors told her parents, both elderly and struggling to contain the tears, that she was not long for this world. I managed to see her Saturday, in her bed, queen of the ward, with the nurses running round her and we shared photos of her at my wedding, holding my babies and holding a litre of beer at a French cafe in bright sunlight, with her arm resting casually on the arm of the latest fancy man to fall under her spell. She could hardly breathe enough to speak, but her first words were to ask about my mother, my sister, Mike and the boys, no sound coming out but her lips forming the words.
And yesterday morning, after coming home 24 hours before, she slipped away peacefully. Her mother had realised the end was near in the evening, and had the priest straight round, who anointed her and prayed with her as the doctor came and eased her pain.
She slipped off into a peaceful, tranquil sleep, then at 2am, opened her eyes and sighed, and left this life.
"And I know she was in pain, and I know I didn't want to leave her here without me" her mother said to me yesterday, "but I'm going to miss her so much."As will we all.
The world is a much better place for having had Den in it, and a poorer one now she has gone.
And as I look at her photo here, from 15 years ago, her arm resting on the shoulder of the young Italian man in tight trousers, her face alight with that smile, I smile too and hope the memories of the joy she gave and the laughter she brought will help her wonderful parents through the next few difficult months.
Goodbye Denise...
Saturday, April 14, 2007
week three....
Shattered by Friday evening.
I'm not made of stern stuff anymore, a bit too fragile for my own good.
Still, I got through it, the clinics, the ward, the meetings, the teaching...
And at home, things trundle along.
My zest that I found has flattened a bit, I come home and just want to flop, to stop, to switch off and do anything except interact with other inhabitants of planet earth.
But something inside tells me in a strict and forceful way it would be singularly unhelpful to do this, that I need to keep switched on, that in time, my body will adjust and not feel so fatigued anymore.
And while I work, in a far flung corner of France, thousands of happy children and their helpers are dancing and singing their way through a week that once was the highlight of my year.
Leaving only a tinge of sadness now, as my mind focuses on what I lost through dancing that particular dance for so long.
But they have just landed back happily...
so my sufferings in November weren't exactly in vain!
And my dance now is slower but interesting still.
I plan to keep on going, whatever my body is telling me....
I'm not made of stern stuff anymore, a bit too fragile for my own good.
Still, I got through it, the clinics, the ward, the meetings, the teaching...
And at home, things trundle along.
My zest that I found has flattened a bit, I come home and just want to flop, to stop, to switch off and do anything except interact with other inhabitants of planet earth.
But something inside tells me in a strict and forceful way it would be singularly unhelpful to do this, that I need to keep switched on, that in time, my body will adjust and not feel so fatigued anymore.
And while I work, in a far flung corner of France, thousands of happy children and their helpers are dancing and singing their way through a week that once was the highlight of my year.
Leaving only a tinge of sadness now, as my mind focuses on what I lost through dancing that particular dance for so long.
But they have just landed back happily...
so my sufferings in November weren't exactly in vain!
And my dance now is slower but interesting still.
I plan to keep on going, whatever my body is telling me....
Thursday, April 05, 2007
End of week2
End of week 2
To everyone's unsurprise, the local young people have mangaed to work out a very easy way of getting through the security fence. They just remove the bolts which were meant to be security proof but clearly not youth proof. Now as well as having a lovely area to play in at night, they also have lethal missiles.
G spent most of today chasing various youths out of the premises, and they recognised in this former miner's wife veteran of many strikes, someone not to be argued with.
Meanwhile clients came and went, phone calls were answered and emails responded to.
And my joints, which are supposed to be better, grumbled and groaned as I went up and downstairs for coffee and to interact with the rest of the team in their overcrowded noisy offices.
I drove home in relative calm, this gradual return helping, so that when T opened the door and berated me for his game not arriving, Norway not being in the UK and TV not having Sky on it anymore, I could answer with this unusual relative calmness as I entered the house and placate him. (And the iPod wasn't charged up...he carried on complaining regardless.)
And Mw got 84% in his second English paper, thus bankrupting me and teaching me never again to promise a cash reward for exams...
And M and I are at peace, relatively, despite more revelations and difficulties coming out in the family. He takes my latest escapades in the manner of a man who can take anything and despite my selfish explorations, lets me continue, gently helping me along with his observations and own limited explorations. My time at CF is over, I don't even read it now, and that helps me feel more at peace than anything else, sad to say. And as I reach for something that I have never had and probably will never had, I learn a lesson that I am trying to teach T; sometimes, you can't have everything you want, even if you feel you need it. Sometimes it must just stay a distant wistful dream, even if to think that makes the tears fall. That sometimes is the lesson to learn.
I hope I learn it soon and move on from where I am now....
To everyone's unsurprise, the local young people have mangaed to work out a very easy way of getting through the security fence. They just remove the bolts which were meant to be security proof but clearly not youth proof. Now as well as having a lovely area to play in at night, they also have lethal missiles.
G spent most of today chasing various youths out of the premises, and they recognised in this former miner's wife veteran of many strikes, someone not to be argued with.
Meanwhile clients came and went, phone calls were answered and emails responded to.
And my joints, which are supposed to be better, grumbled and groaned as I went up and downstairs for coffee and to interact with the rest of the team in their overcrowded noisy offices.
I drove home in relative calm, this gradual return helping, so that when T opened the door and berated me for his game not arriving, Norway not being in the UK and TV not having Sky on it anymore, I could answer with this unusual relative calmness as I entered the house and placate him. (And the iPod wasn't charged up...he carried on complaining regardless.)
And Mw got 84% in his second English paper, thus bankrupting me and teaching me never again to promise a cash reward for exams...
And M and I are at peace, relatively, despite more revelations and difficulties coming out in the family. He takes my latest escapades in the manner of a man who can take anything and despite my selfish explorations, lets me continue, gently helping me along with his observations and own limited explorations. My time at CF is over, I don't even read it now, and that helps me feel more at peace than anything else, sad to say. And as I reach for something that I have never had and probably will never had, I learn a lesson that I am trying to teach T; sometimes, you can't have everything you want, even if you feel you need it. Sometimes it must just stay a distant wistful dream, even if to think that makes the tears fall. That sometimes is the lesson to learn.
I hope I learn it soon and move on from where I am now....
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Work
So....back to work.
Strange feeling.
Arrived by 8am at base1, managed to park and walked up to my office, with the sound of a vehicle reversing in Welsh powering down on me to finish me off. A tattered wanted poster, obviously placed there by a client angry with another client flapped on a lamp post as I strolled past, purposefully, hoping to get to my office without tears or bumping into anyone difficult.
Once there, I soon launched into the computer. By some freak of memory, I entered the correct password first time and was greeted by 375 emails, 75 of which informed me it was now time to empty my mail box. Started to work through them at top speed and to be horror, found that until I emptied it, I couldn't send anymore. Which limited what I could delete.
Curses!
But undaunted, I soldiered on until 9am and the Friday morning meeting with the juniors, all distressed, as rightly they should be, by the chaos delivered by this wonderful government that has led several of them facing unemployment in August...
But they gave me a cheery welcome back and I picked up where I left off, offering advice, support and gentle encouragement to the gravely demoralised workforce.
I then had my first bit of terrible news of the day. Delivered by a colleague, in hushed tones, my heart sank into my boots and stayed there. Job share partner looked equally shell shocked. We parted company, me to the community base, she to supervise with no spring in our steps.
At the base2, warm greetings, hugs and pictures of firemen failed to hide the state of the place, the lack of staff and the air of forboding here too. Conflicts were abounding and all the muttered signs of relief at my return could not hide the difficulties we were facing. With the lack of admin staff a problem, I took up position in the front desk area and stormed my way through external then internal emails, post of the last four months and diaries. While answering the phone, letting clients in and out and chatting with E about life, the universe and everything. And I eventually discovered at the bottom of the pile my pay slip- which revealed I'd been underpaid by more than a third this month, for some strange reason. Phone calls to several people brought no joy. No one could help me until Monday....
Argh!
Five hours later, and after a morale sapping meeting of the group, I headed back to base1 for another meeting, where difficulties were discussed and potential solutions postulated. We can see a way forward, but will management agree? Watch this space, is all I can say.
So at 5.15, with one coffee sipped while deleting emails and no lunch break, I walked back to my car, past the wanted poster on the lamp post, still flapping away.
Home to the boys and the post and M, nervously and tentatively asking how today went.
And 16 hours later, I finally managed to tell him, while watching Anthony Quinn play Zorba the Pope in the Shoes of the Fisherman, stupidly crying at the site of the white smoke as I remembered the feeling of watching it as a Catholic, with hope in my heart.
I soon stopped.
No point in dwelling on what is past.
The future may hold unlimited surprises....
Still, back to work.
I can't wait till I'm next in to see what disaster will strike next.
I think I might pretend it is a soap opera, and play suitable music in my head as I drive in and out. Complete with grand climaxes and funny endings...
May make it all even partially bearable.
Strange feeling.
Arrived by 8am at base1, managed to park and walked up to my office, with the sound of a vehicle reversing in Welsh powering down on me to finish me off. A tattered wanted poster, obviously placed there by a client angry with another client flapped on a lamp post as I strolled past, purposefully, hoping to get to my office without tears or bumping into anyone difficult.
Once there, I soon launched into the computer. By some freak of memory, I entered the correct password first time and was greeted by 375 emails, 75 of which informed me it was now time to empty my mail box. Started to work through them at top speed and to be horror, found that until I emptied it, I couldn't send anymore. Which limited what I could delete.
Curses!
But undaunted, I soldiered on until 9am and the Friday morning meeting with the juniors, all distressed, as rightly they should be, by the chaos delivered by this wonderful government that has led several of them facing unemployment in August...
But they gave me a cheery welcome back and I picked up where I left off, offering advice, support and gentle encouragement to the gravely demoralised workforce.
I then had my first bit of terrible news of the day. Delivered by a colleague, in hushed tones, my heart sank into my boots and stayed there. Job share partner looked equally shell shocked. We parted company, me to the community base, she to supervise with no spring in our steps.
At the base2, warm greetings, hugs and pictures of firemen failed to hide the state of the place, the lack of staff and the air of forboding here too. Conflicts were abounding and all the muttered signs of relief at my return could not hide the difficulties we were facing. With the lack of admin staff a problem, I took up position in the front desk area and stormed my way through external then internal emails, post of the last four months and diaries. While answering the phone, letting clients in and out and chatting with E about life, the universe and everything. And I eventually discovered at the bottom of the pile my pay slip- which revealed I'd been underpaid by more than a third this month, for some strange reason. Phone calls to several people brought no joy. No one could help me until Monday....
Argh!
Five hours later, and after a morale sapping meeting of the group, I headed back to base1 for another meeting, where difficulties were discussed and potential solutions postulated. We can see a way forward, but will management agree? Watch this space, is all I can say.
So at 5.15, with one coffee sipped while deleting emails and no lunch break, I walked back to my car, past the wanted poster on the lamp post, still flapping away.
Home to the boys and the post and M, nervously and tentatively asking how today went.
And 16 hours later, I finally managed to tell him, while watching Anthony Quinn play Zorba the Pope in the Shoes of the Fisherman, stupidly crying at the site of the white smoke as I remembered the feeling of watching it as a Catholic, with hope in my heart.
I soon stopped.
No point in dwelling on what is past.
The future may hold unlimited surprises....
Still, back to work.
I can't wait till I'm next in to see what disaster will strike next.
I think I might pretend it is a soap opera, and play suitable music in my head as I drive in and out. Complete with grand climaxes and funny endings...
May make it all even partially bearable.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Hurting (2) (or possibly 3, I lost count)
I had to give myself a kick yesterday. I was sliding back into morose self pity mode, the influence of hormones falling due to the "time of the month" ("how long is your period then," asked son2 "because I think it's the longest one in history, judging by your moods") another minor hiccup at CF that to me seemed like a veritable explosion, and my imminent return to work. And other stuff that is running round inside my head.
Anyway, as I suddenly became an observer of my own inner world, I saw all the danger signs and stamped on it. So today, I'm merely tearful rather than figuring out an escape plan and due to go out soon to distract myself on my last day off sick.
It's the longest I've been off work, apart from the year I took off when we discovered about Son1's problems. It has helped in some ways, my joints are better in that I can actually walk places now without not sleeping due to pain afterwards and although I still need further tests on what the heck is going on in my hands (next week) my physical functioning is better.
Mentally?- well, I no longer dwell on escape plans all the time, I have an alternative in my head should the going get too rough and though it would mean a radical upheaval, it is one we could do.
So although I'm still hurting, especially over the CF stuff, I'm doing something about it, something active (which involves once again leaving CF...this time, hopefully, to stay away.) And as work beckons and draws me back in, I'll no doubt be too busy soon to do much more than come home in the evening and collapse in front of a warm television...
Watch this space!
Anyway, as I suddenly became an observer of my own inner world, I saw all the danger signs and stamped on it. So today, I'm merely tearful rather than figuring out an escape plan and due to go out soon to distract myself on my last day off sick.
It's the longest I've been off work, apart from the year I took off when we discovered about Son1's problems. It has helped in some ways, my joints are better in that I can actually walk places now without not sleeping due to pain afterwards and although I still need further tests on what the heck is going on in my hands (next week) my physical functioning is better.
Mentally?- well, I no longer dwell on escape plans all the time, I have an alternative in my head should the going get too rough and though it would mean a radical upheaval, it is one we could do.
So although I'm still hurting, especially over the CF stuff, I'm doing something about it, something active (which involves once again leaving CF...this time, hopefully, to stay away.) And as work beckons and draws me back in, I'll no doubt be too busy soon to do much more than come home in the evening and collapse in front of a warm television...
Watch this space!
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Bliss
Drove today, alone, to Birmingham and back, my only company my CD with its repeated cycle of my twenty favourite songs (ranging from Carole King's Tapestry, through a little bit of soft folky music to Catatonia's Cerys belting out what she does every morning when she wakes up.) Thoughts ran through my head, images, little day dreams, worries about work, family, which every now and then I put on one side to focus on driving in the appalling weather. Arriving at Brum, I did what I went there to do in all of half an hour, had a quick drink and took myself back, through blustery dry weather. The black mountains gazed at me in all their glory as I came closer to home and I started to think about the morning and Mass at church.
Not my favourite Mass of the year, but one I have been playing at for the last 16 years or so, the Mother's Day Mass. Head teacher and I are friends, and when I lost my faith he said, somewhat nervously "You're not going to give up playing?" and so far, I haven't. It was a cute occasion, starting with the infants, 5 yr olds mainly, singing tunelessly two songs then yelling out a poem to their mothers, who had little chance of understanding a single word, but whose eyes filled with tears to see their little ones dressed in all their best clothes up on the altar, performing.
The Mass otherwise folowed its usual somewhat chaotic course, enhanced by an appeal for the Lourdes group I used to travel with in the middle.
One of the hymns the children sung (tunelessly and in this case, as it was the more self conscious juniors, quietly) was by the late great Sydney Carter, author, poet and musician, who died an atheist after many years of searching. The words, as ever, filled me with glee, he would find no welcome on a more orthodox platform, but his ideas of life that needed to be lived, and if necessary, lived without faith and lived gloriously, continue to grasp and inspire me when I revisit them.
So as I drove onto the M50, the hills in the distance, the greenery lit up in the sunlight, I hummed away tunelessly Sydney Carter's carol (as he called all his songs...) and laughed at the memory of small children in big hats and huge aprons showing how much they loved their mums.
Not my favourite Mass of the year, but one I have been playing at for the last 16 years or so, the Mother's Day Mass. Head teacher and I are friends, and when I lost my faith he said, somewhat nervously "You're not going to give up playing?" and so far, I haven't. It was a cute occasion, starting with the infants, 5 yr olds mainly, singing tunelessly two songs then yelling out a poem to their mothers, who had little chance of understanding a single word, but whose eyes filled with tears to see their little ones dressed in all their best clothes up on the altar, performing.
The Mass otherwise folowed its usual somewhat chaotic course, enhanced by an appeal for the Lourdes group I used to travel with in the middle.
One of the hymns the children sung (tunelessly and in this case, as it was the more self conscious juniors, quietly) was by the late great Sydney Carter, author, poet and musician, who died an atheist after many years of searching. The words, as ever, filled me with glee, he would find no welcome on a more orthodox platform, but his ideas of life that needed to be lived, and if necessary, lived without faith and lived gloriously, continue to grasp and inspire me when I revisit them.
So as I drove onto the M50, the hills in the distance, the greenery lit up in the sunlight, I hummed away tunelessly Sydney Carter's carol (as he called all his songs...) and laughed at the memory of small children in big hats and huge aprons showing how much they loved their mums.
Round the corners of the world I turn
More and more about the world I learn
From the old things to the new
Keep me travelling along with you
And it's from the old
I travel to the new
Keep me travelling along with you
Friday, March 16, 2007
The Journey....
By Mary Oliver (Dream Work, Grove Atlantis.)
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy was terrible.
It was already late enough,
and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
Determined to do the only thing you could do --
Determined to save the only life you could save.
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy was terrible.
It was already late enough,
and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
Determined to do the only thing you could do --
Determined to save the only life you could save.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Son2
I couldn't have a son1 post and not follow it with a son2 post.
Everyone should also have a son2. I discussed this earlier with son2, who was in full agreement.
I had just told him of our plans for son1 to go to residential college for a year, which may not come off, in Sept 2008.
He face fell.
He'll come back at half terms and holidays, I quickly added and he smiled.
He likes having his brother round mostly, though he can be a tremendous burden on him. Son1 sees son2 as being his own personal entertainer, guide, bodyguard, counsellor, playmate, punchbag, expert in games and best friend. He is desolate when son2 takes off with his friends for the day and will ask every 5 minutes when he will be back.
Son2 carries this heavy burden with the impish charm and laconic manner that makes everyone, teachers, fellow students, family, friends, fall in love with him and want to spend time with him. He has a little adolescent side, that answers in grunts and monosyllables, especially if homework or bed is mentioned, but he knows this and he sees it as his right and duty, indeed, to be rebellious.
He thinks freely and independently, still believing in God but not seeing a God of punishment and hell as one that he could particularly relate to. His God seems more like a companion to walk through life with, who sits and watches and laughs just as uproariously at the rest of us at Son2's mad ideas, sarcastic monologues and witty humour.
"Everyone should have the Son1 and Son2 option" he said to me; "Gives a good balance." It matures Son2, entertains him, gives him responsibility and insight early and gives the rest of us refreshment, lightness in the heart and something wonderful to greet us on our return home from work at night.
Everyone should also have a son2. I discussed this earlier with son2, who was in full agreement.
I had just told him of our plans for son1 to go to residential college for a year, which may not come off, in Sept 2008.
He face fell.
He'll come back at half terms and holidays, I quickly added and he smiled.
He likes having his brother round mostly, though he can be a tremendous burden on him. Son1 sees son2 as being his own personal entertainer, guide, bodyguard, counsellor, playmate, punchbag, expert in games and best friend. He is desolate when son2 takes off with his friends for the day and will ask every 5 minutes when he will be back.
Son2 carries this heavy burden with the impish charm and laconic manner that makes everyone, teachers, fellow students, family, friends, fall in love with him and want to spend time with him. He has a little adolescent side, that answers in grunts and monosyllables, especially if homework or bed is mentioned, but he knows this and he sees it as his right and duty, indeed, to be rebellious.
He thinks freely and independently, still believing in God but not seeing a God of punishment and hell as one that he could particularly relate to. His God seems more like a companion to walk through life with, who sits and watches and laughs just as uproariously at the rest of us at Son2's mad ideas, sarcastic monologues and witty humour.
"Everyone should have the Son1 and Son2 option" he said to me; "Gives a good balance." It matures Son2, entertains him, gives him responsibility and insight early and gives the rest of us refreshment, lightness in the heart and something wonderful to greet us on our return home from work at night.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Son1
Every family should have at least one Son1- T - to keep them sane and on the right path.
Now yes, I agree, Son1's do bring with them all sorts of difficulties...and son1's do suffer a lot, but they bring with them all sorts of benefits. They help keep things in perspective for a start...
And they speak their mind.
Totally above dissembling, tact, able to see straight to the heart of the matter.
Not afraid either, if it needs saying, bring along son1, and he will say it.
"Mum, you know your hair? It looks ridiculous."
"Why do you say that Grandma? No one would help you? You didn't even ask anyone."
Everyone else standing round, wondering how to put it so no one gets hurt.
He sees the truth and says it.
And no one gets hurt.
I knew my hair was ridiculous.
Just couldn't be bothered to do anything about it.
Grandma knew she was playing games.
Her forte
Just didn't want to admit it.
He sits like our collective conscience on our shoulders, our eyes to see the world as it is, not as we want to see, to see us as we are, not as we wish to be perceived, our ears to hear the truth we need to hear.
So, here is to son1s wherever they are.
Let us hope the world will always recognise their valuable contribution to keeping us human and sane....
Now yes, I agree, Son1's do bring with them all sorts of difficulties...and son1's do suffer a lot, but they bring with them all sorts of benefits. They help keep things in perspective for a start...
And they speak their mind.
Totally above dissembling, tact, able to see straight to the heart of the matter.
Not afraid either, if it needs saying, bring along son1, and he will say it.
"Mum, you know your hair? It looks ridiculous."
"Why do you say that Grandma? No one would help you? You didn't even ask anyone."
Everyone else standing round, wondering how to put it so no one gets hurt.
He sees the truth and says it.
And no one gets hurt.
I knew my hair was ridiculous.
Just couldn't be bothered to do anything about it.
Grandma knew she was playing games.
Her forte
Just didn't want to admit it.
He sits like our collective conscience on our shoulders, our eyes to see the world as it is, not as we want to see, to see us as we are, not as we wish to be perceived, our ears to hear the truth we need to hear.
So, here is to son1s wherever they are.
Let us hope the world will always recognise their valuable contribution to keeping us human and sane....
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Desperation
“Beautiful Lady, we pray
Reveal to us, the love that you portray.
Your words so gentle, O sinless queen
Your heart so pure,Star of the Sea.
Ave Maria…”
Lying in bed, words flow through my head.
Images of the day.
Some good- A for science and hugs accepted
Some wonderful- the love of two people for 50 years celebrated in a warm friendly Mass, where tears flowed as I sang the words above
Some deeply sad- as I learnt she had died, the Angel that lived with little thought for herself.
Some desperate.
Tears more than once.
Flowing as I faced a column marked "work" to fill in....
As I faced to never seeing the Angel again
As I faced up to the emptiness of the depths, the needs and desires and wants that lay and lie unfulfilled now and forever
As I faced up to that which I had become, that which I always had been, that which I always would be....
Stark past bringing into focus an even starker future
Sometimes you can't make it on your own
and as I recognised the depths of the other
I realise that to the other I am the someone
The one who stops him falling into his deep despair.
One more thing to face up to.....
Reveal to us, the love that you portray.
Your words so gentle, O sinless queen
Your heart so pure,Star of the Sea.
Ave Maria…”
Lying in bed, words flow through my head.
Images of the day.
Some good- A for science and hugs accepted
Some wonderful- the love of two people for 50 years celebrated in a warm friendly Mass, where tears flowed as I sang the words above
Some deeply sad- as I learnt she had died, the Angel that lived with little thought for herself.
Some desperate.
Tears more than once.
Flowing as I faced a column marked "work" to fill in....
As I faced to never seeing the Angel again
As I faced up to the emptiness of the depths, the needs and desires and wants that lay and lie unfulfilled now and forever
As I faced up to that which I had become, that which I always had been, that which I always would be....
Stark past bringing into focus an even starker future
Sometimes you can't make it on your own
and as I recognised the depths of the other
I realise that to the other I am the someone
The one who stops him falling into his deep despair.
One more thing to face up to.....
Friday, March 09, 2007
Frightened Rabbit
"You look like a frightened rabbit again"
I knew I did
Frightened rabbit mode
Frozen in headlights, still as can be, hoping all will pass by leaving me safe and secure.
When first?
As a child, with the stranger whose face and name will remain ever unknown but whose action is burnt deep into my being.
But more often, as a teenager, with Her.
The anger, the shouting, bringing on rabbit, who froze then when told, the bolting, the leaving.
Out of her sight.
Hiding.
Lying behind the couch, safe and secure
Crying, sobbing, wanting the storm to pass.
Deep down, wanting her to search, to come, to say all is well, are you OK? I love you...
That miracle never happened.
Those words were never said.
Others were...
You quitter
You'd look pretty if you weren't so fat.
Just be thankful you are not like her....
The storm would only pass when I got up and found her again and said "Sorry, all my fault, I'm to blame, I won't do it again, forgive me, please."
Easier to be a frightened rabbit.
To stand and freeze, physically, mentally, emotionally.
Not to feel or think, let it all pass over you.
The anger, the shouting, the words of disgust.
Words inwardly taken, now part of my view.
But now, time for change.
Time to unfreeze, stop running and hiding.
Stop being a rabbit and face the storms...
I knew I did
Frightened rabbit mode
Frozen in headlights, still as can be, hoping all will pass by leaving me safe and secure.
When first?
As a child, with the stranger whose face and name will remain ever unknown but whose action is burnt deep into my being.
But more often, as a teenager, with Her.
The anger, the shouting, bringing on rabbit, who froze then when told, the bolting, the leaving.
Out of her sight.
Hiding.
Lying behind the couch, safe and secure
Crying, sobbing, wanting the storm to pass.
Deep down, wanting her to search, to come, to say all is well, are you OK? I love you...
That miracle never happened.
Those words were never said.
Others were...
You quitter
You'd look pretty if you weren't so fat.
Just be thankful you are not like her....
The storm would only pass when I got up and found her again and said "Sorry, all my fault, I'm to blame, I won't do it again, forgive me, please."
Easier to be a frightened rabbit.
To stand and freeze, physically, mentally, emotionally.
Not to feel or think, let it all pass over you.
The anger, the shouting, the words of disgust.
Words inwardly taken, now part of my view.
But now, time for change.
Time to unfreeze, stop running and hiding.
Stop being a rabbit and face the storms...
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Come out, come out part 2
"Mum, are you gay?"
Now that is not a question you expect your 15 year old son to ask. He actually said mum are you a lesbian, but it looks better like that.
I swallowed.
Why is my son asking me this?
Um, what to say?
Thinking quickly, I said to him"Why do you ask?"
My 15 year old has no need of assertiveness classes.
Patiently he repeated the question, several times, leaving me in no doubt he was curious for some reason and wanted an answer...
Dissemble? Prevaricate?
Tried both, he just kept firing the ultimate question at me.
So I told him the story, in suitable words, that I wrote last time and he listened in silence.
"So will you leave Dad?" a worry clearly visible on his face.
I explained his dad had known for a long time and that we had no intention of leaving each other. I loved dad, he loved me and we both loved him and his brother. I told him I thought of myself as bisexual now, but a bisexual in a monogamous relationship with his father, not about to run off with any man or any woman. The family was where I belong and where I stay...
He thought.
He grinned.
"Does Mgu know? (My mother.) Can I tell her if she doesn't?"
Blackmail opportunist!
He laughed and reassured me he would never tell anyone without my permission and we moved onto talk about other things.
I have no idea why he asked, he says it was a bit of a joke and I guess having seen my stunned reaction to the question, he wanted an answer, a truthful answer.
Was I right to give it to him?
I think so, I have no reason not to tell him, no reason to lie to him. He is old enough to ask the question and old enough to know.
But much further it should not go.
However well my parents have taken my lapse from the faith, this might be a bridge too far.
So this is as far as I come, at the moment....
Now that is not a question you expect your 15 year old son to ask. He actually said mum are you a lesbian, but it looks better like that.
I swallowed.
Why is my son asking me this?
Um, what to say?
Thinking quickly, I said to him"Why do you ask?"
My 15 year old has no need of assertiveness classes.
Patiently he repeated the question, several times, leaving me in no doubt he was curious for some reason and wanted an answer...
Dissemble? Prevaricate?
Tried both, he just kept firing the ultimate question at me.
So I told him the story, in suitable words, that I wrote last time and he listened in silence.
"So will you leave Dad?" a worry clearly visible on his face.
I explained his dad had known for a long time and that we had no intention of leaving each other. I loved dad, he loved me and we both loved him and his brother. I told him I thought of myself as bisexual now, but a bisexual in a monogamous relationship with his father, not about to run off with any man or any woman. The family was where I belong and where I stay...
He thought.
He grinned.
"Does Mgu know? (My mother.) Can I tell her if she doesn't?"
Blackmail opportunist!
He laughed and reassured me he would never tell anyone without my permission and we moved onto talk about other things.
I have no idea why he asked, he says it was a bit of a joke and I guess having seen my stunned reaction to the question, he wanted an answer, a truthful answer.
Was I right to give it to him?
I think so, I have no reason not to tell him, no reason to lie to him. He is old enough to ask the question and old enough to know.
But much further it should not go.
However well my parents have taken my lapse from the faith, this might be a bridge too far.
So this is as far as I come, at the moment....
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Come out, come out, wherever you are....
Posted this somewhere else today in response to a debate on catholics, marriage and sexuality...
Re the whole bisexual thing...
a little story about the Catholic Church and sexuality and how it has affected me...
When I was 17/18, i was not attracted to men at all, in fact I was somewhat repulsed by the dirty hairy creatures. I knew where my attractions lay, I knew I was gay in fact and had to reconcile that with parents whose views on sexuality were rigid and unforgiving and a church that I saw in the same way. Sex was for marriage, being gay was an aberration to be treated. My mother had told me rejection of her faith was a rejection of her and to sum up in British understatement mode, I spent a worried few years. I rang gay helplines more than once but finally concluded the only way to avoid sure hell fire damnation was to continue with an earlier plan of being a nun and live a celibate life.
Scroll on ten or so years, and I met hubbie on a trip to Lourdes, who is still the most amazing man, my best friend and someone who just "lives the gospel." We got on; had similar senses of humour, similar beliefs and we "courted" and married. But underneath it all, I knew all along, like those thousands others spoke of, that my inclinations were entirely in another direction. Fortunately, hubbie being the type of man he is, after many years of not talking about the obvious problems, when we did, we found a way to work round things. We are still a family, and intend to remain a family, as once we both promised, till death do we part.
The Catholic Church's teaching on this caused the earlier years of my life to be confusing, and agonising and it does the same for thousands more. It can result in people hating part of themselves, rejecting it, which, as others have said, can lead to much unhappiness in families. I'm just one of the fortunate ones who have been able to resolve some of the issues, but I am still left living a life which could have been so different if I hadn't been a Catholic.
Re the whole bisexual thing...
a little story about the Catholic Church and sexuality and how it has affected me...
When I was 17/18, i was not attracted to men at all, in fact I was somewhat repulsed by the dirty hairy creatures. I knew where my attractions lay, I knew I was gay in fact and had to reconcile that with parents whose views on sexuality were rigid and unforgiving and a church that I saw in the same way. Sex was for marriage, being gay was an aberration to be treated. My mother had told me rejection of her faith was a rejection of her and to sum up in British understatement mode, I spent a worried few years. I rang gay helplines more than once but finally concluded the only way to avoid sure hell fire damnation was to continue with an earlier plan of being a nun and live a celibate life.
Scroll on ten or so years, and I met hubbie on a trip to Lourdes, who is still the most amazing man, my best friend and someone who just "lives the gospel." We got on; had similar senses of humour, similar beliefs and we "courted" and married. But underneath it all, I knew all along, like those thousands others spoke of, that my inclinations were entirely in another direction. Fortunately, hubbie being the type of man he is, after many years of not talking about the obvious problems, when we did, we found a way to work round things. We are still a family, and intend to remain a family, as once we both promised, till death do we part.
The Catholic Church's teaching on this caused the earlier years of my life to be confusing, and agonising and it does the same for thousands more. It can result in people hating part of themselves, rejecting it, which, as others have said, can lead to much unhappiness in families. I'm just one of the fortunate ones who have been able to resolve some of the issues, but I am still left living a life which could have been so different if I hadn't been a Catholic.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Exploring- progress report
For the past few months, I've been on what I guess I can only call a selfish voyage of discovery.
But it has thrown up a great deal about myself that I didn't know, or rather, that I always knew, but didn't admit.
Or had admitted once, many moons ago, but because of my fear and the beliefs I held, because of the family I was born into, I rejected as being part of myself and tried to bury it, under piles of rationalising and spiritual striving that was always destined to fail.
And as a result, I spent many years bitterly unhappy, this square peg, trying to convince herself and everyone round here that she was round, like the rest of them.
As I started my exploring, I came across a guide.
I don't know if it would have taken the path it has without that guide. Doorways in my mind have opened to things once thought, done, seen and forgotten. New experiences have impacted on my life, and hubbie's life as a result.
Are things better now?
Yes and no.
Yes, there is more honesty in our relationship, more understanding of why we married and what we didn't think about when we married.
Yes, we both know we want to be together "warts and all" for as long as we both shall live, as we once promised.
And yes, maybe at the moment, my ideas and thoughts and actions are a little, how did hubbie put it......"wild and way out"..... but in a way, having sat for so long on so much passion and desire, it's hardly surprising.
"You'll calm down" he says, laughing at my latest purchase or venture or revelation, ever confident that we can ride this storm, like all those others we have faced...
And not better-
well, things that were done cannot be undone.
Things that were not done will never be experienced and part of me weeps and grieves for what could have been, should have been, would have been...
But overall, yes beats no, and with exploring continuing and getting into deeper waters and darker caverns.....who knows what may be next?
But it has thrown up a great deal about myself that I didn't know, or rather, that I always knew, but didn't admit.
Or had admitted once, many moons ago, but because of my fear and the beliefs I held, because of the family I was born into, I rejected as being part of myself and tried to bury it, under piles of rationalising and spiritual striving that was always destined to fail.
And as a result, I spent many years bitterly unhappy, this square peg, trying to convince herself and everyone round here that she was round, like the rest of them.
As I started my exploring, I came across a guide.
I don't know if it would have taken the path it has without that guide. Doorways in my mind have opened to things once thought, done, seen and forgotten. New experiences have impacted on my life, and hubbie's life as a result.
Are things better now?
Yes and no.
Yes, there is more honesty in our relationship, more understanding of why we married and what we didn't think about when we married.
Yes, we both know we want to be together "warts and all" for as long as we both shall live, as we once promised.
And yes, maybe at the moment, my ideas and thoughts and actions are a little, how did hubbie put it......"wild and way out"..... but in a way, having sat for so long on so much passion and desire, it's hardly surprising.
"You'll calm down" he says, laughing at my latest purchase or venture or revelation, ever confident that we can ride this storm, like all those others we have faced...
And not better-
well, things that were done cannot be undone.
Things that were not done will never be experienced and part of me weeps and grieves for what could have been, should have been, would have been...
But overall, yes beats no, and with exploring continuing and getting into deeper waters and darker caverns.....who knows what may be next?
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Snowdrops
On Sunday we went to the Snowdrop woods and walked as best we were able around the paths that wind their way in and out of the trees. The grass not visible, covered in a sea of white snowdrops.
T as ever had a tizzy mood. He was starving and needed to eat. Couldn't possibly continue walking and would I stop taking photos NOW! I negotiated 5 minutes to take a few snaps, then left the camera with Mw and walked back to the cafe with T. Where he had chocolate cake and apple juice and talked ceaslessly about his latest game.
Half an hour later, the others joined us, good timing as I had just brought soup and rolls for them to warm them up. Mw had taken beautiful photos and M had too.
And I sighed inside, knowing that this is how things are, how things will be...
But I can cope. And I saw the beautiful snowdrops, shining brightly in the sun.
And thought of my favourite poem...
A Song of Living
Amelia Josephine Burr
Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die.
I have sent up my gladness on wings,to be lost in the blue of the sky.
I have run and leapt with the rain,
I have taken the wind to my breast.
My cheek like a drowsy child
to the face of the earth I have pressed.
Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die.
I have kissed young Love on the lips,
I have heard his song to the end.
I have struck my hand like a seal
in the loyal hand of a friend.
I have known the peace of heaven,
the comfort of work done well.
I have longed for death in the darkness
and risen alive out of hell.
Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die.
I give a share of my soul
to the world where my course is run.
I know that another shall finish the task
I must leave undone.
I know that no flower,nor flint was in vain on the path I trod.
As one looks on a face through a window
through life I have looked on god.
Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Happy New Year
So another year passes, probably the most dramatic in my life.
The year in which I waved goodbye to faith, not just as something that I possessed, but as something that I strove to regain.
I no longer want it back.
Too many things that harmed me over many years tied up with it.
So what will 2007 bring?
No idea.
More trouble, that is a given.
More heartbreak, more sorrow, more pain.
But in exploring the solutions to all those, joy, discovery and new experiences that make me wonder and gasp.
The gentle sigh of the breeze and the thunderous din of the hurricane, blowing me about until I come to rest somewhere new and strange.
And admit that I need to grow so much more, that I have been stunted by the limits I have placed on myself and continue to place.
But grow in a controlled, responsible, mature way, not at the expense of others, no seeking satisfaction while the peasants starve!
Happy New Year and may it bring to you all you want and need this year...
The year in which I waved goodbye to faith, not just as something that I possessed, but as something that I strove to regain.
I no longer want it back.
Too many things that harmed me over many years tied up with it.
So what will 2007 bring?
No idea.
More trouble, that is a given.
More heartbreak, more sorrow, more pain.
But in exploring the solutions to all those, joy, discovery and new experiences that make me wonder and gasp.
The gentle sigh of the breeze and the thunderous din of the hurricane, blowing me about until I come to rest somewhere new and strange.
And admit that I need to grow so much more, that I have been stunted by the limits I have placed on myself and continue to place.
But grow in a controlled, responsible, mature way, not at the expense of others, no seeking satisfaction while the peasants starve!
Happy New Year and may it bring to you all you want and need this year...
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Graphical images
If I could draw a graph of the last two years, it would be an undulating mess of ascensions and descent.
Sometimes climbing to the heights, as I thought I had finally realised meaning and truth, sometimes plunging into the depths as I lost everything that was most precious.
Now it is undulating more gently, around a lowish point.
Things drift pass me, events, images, thoughts and feelings as I sit in my safe room and explore as best as I am able, while supporting and carrying the loads given to me.
And now I stand outside the cavern.
Uncertain of whether to go in.
I've ventured in a short way and in the distance I can see fiercesome things that may consume me.
But I also can not see any way back....
Maybe it is time to leave my safe room at last and venture out into uncertainty and fear but into progress...
Who knows what the graph may do if I do that?
Sometimes climbing to the heights, as I thought I had finally realised meaning and truth, sometimes plunging into the depths as I lost everything that was most precious.
Now it is undulating more gently, around a lowish point.
Things drift pass me, events, images, thoughts and feelings as I sit in my safe room and explore as best as I am able, while supporting and carrying the loads given to me.
And now I stand outside the cavern.
Uncertain of whether to go in.
I've ventured in a short way and in the distance I can see fiercesome things that may consume me.
But I also can not see any way back....
Maybe it is time to leave my safe room at last and venture out into uncertainty and fear but into progress...
Who knows what the graph may do if I do that?
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
One year ago today
One year ago today...
I lost my faith.
My belief, my trust, my love of God, the God who I once believed had made me to know him, trust him and love him in this world and the next.
Who had redeemed me through the sacrifice on the cross.
Whose name I called on all the time.
One year ago I looked into the sky and realised it was all gone.
Forever.
And this has been a year of mourning, with occasional bursts of dancing, as I learnt to say goodbye to faith and to live without the colour that it had brought my life.
In all things.
My thoughts, words, deeds, feelings, experiences.
My relationships.
The way I saw and perceived the world around me, nature, animals, flowers, joy, destruction, love, hate.
It coloured it all, without exception.
But now it is time to move on.
To discover how wonderful reality can be.
How the colour has not gone, just changed in hue.
So I need to turn and stop mourning, get up and start dancing again.
And tackle things left hidden for years under piles of fear and guilt, to confront and accept realities about myself and the world that I would far rather not face.
To explore, alone, with friends, with strangers, the mysteries that face us all.
To enjoy the journey for its own sake.
So today I will raise a glass to you my friends who have walked with me this past year.
In acknowledgement of your friendship and care.
May your lives and your journeys bring you the happiness and richness you deserve.
Cat
I lost my faith.
My belief, my trust, my love of God, the God who I once believed had made me to know him, trust him and love him in this world and the next.
Who had redeemed me through the sacrifice on the cross.
Whose name I called on all the time.
One year ago I looked into the sky and realised it was all gone.
Forever.
And this has been a year of mourning, with occasional bursts of dancing, as I learnt to say goodbye to faith and to live without the colour that it had brought my life.
In all things.
My thoughts, words, deeds, feelings, experiences.
My relationships.
The way I saw and perceived the world around me, nature, animals, flowers, joy, destruction, love, hate.
It coloured it all, without exception.
But now it is time to move on.
To discover how wonderful reality can be.
How the colour has not gone, just changed in hue.
So I need to turn and stop mourning, get up and start dancing again.
And tackle things left hidden for years under piles of fear and guilt, to confront and accept realities about myself and the world that I would far rather not face.
To explore, alone, with friends, with strangers, the mysteries that face us all.
To enjoy the journey for its own sake.
So today I will raise a glass to you my friends who have walked with me this past year.
In acknowledgement of your friendship and care.
May your lives and your journeys bring you the happiness and richness you deserve.
Cat
Friday, November 24, 2006
Exploration
I'm on an enforced period of rest.
One month.
Hopefully what I have is reactive and not rheumatoid arthritis, according to the consultant.
So in the first week I have written all my cards for Christmas, put all the addys onto the computer, watched cosmos and the DVD of monks that someone sent me from CF/II (my father has too- an amzing film), read several books, made cards and explored on the net.
The latter has been interesting.
Every now and then, something that I have always known about myself becomes apparant.
This case is no exception.
It led to a long discussion with hubbie and many issues that have been sitting half untouched since December last year were finally brought out and stood in the open for us both to see.
Because I have changed.
The thing that was a most important part of me, my faith, is now no more and I have to find out what that means in terms of how I live my life and how we live our lives together...
We both know one thing, we want to stay together, but there may be areas in which we now clash. But having got through 20 odd years of disasters together and ended up where we are now smiling, hopefully, even as I explore the world from the safety of my room, things will be ok...
And at least while I explore, I can have fun doing so and thus take my mind off my rest.
And my pain!
One month.
Hopefully what I have is reactive and not rheumatoid arthritis, according to the consultant.
So in the first week I have written all my cards for Christmas, put all the addys onto the computer, watched cosmos and the DVD of monks that someone sent me from CF/II (my father has too- an amzing film), read several books, made cards and explored on the net.
The latter has been interesting.
Every now and then, something that I have always known about myself becomes apparant.
This case is no exception.
It led to a long discussion with hubbie and many issues that have been sitting half untouched since December last year were finally brought out and stood in the open for us both to see.
Because I have changed.
The thing that was a most important part of me, my faith, is now no more and I have to find out what that means in terms of how I live my life and how we live our lives together...
We both know one thing, we want to stay together, but there may be areas in which we now clash. But having got through 20 odd years of disasters together and ended up where we are now smiling, hopefully, even as I explore the world from the safety of my room, things will be ok...
And at least while I explore, I can have fun doing so and thus take my mind off my rest.
And my pain!
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
This and that
Chris's funeral is on Monday afternoon. Keith, one of the Lourdes group people rang to tell me this morning. His group was planning to take Chris to Lourdes next Easter with their noisy, lively, exuberant young peoples group.
He would have loved it.
Tom doesn't want to go, but he keeps mentioning it every now and then. And Matt's class prayed for him in school.
As for me, I went to see the doctor this morning and she signed me off work onto the sick to REST! I hate REST! -it's always seemed pretty pointless to me.
So I've made a whole load of Christmas cards (perhaps that's why my hands are hurting), watched a DVD and chatted to a couple of friends from CF, who I love very dearly...
Mike's been in and out and is in work tomorrow and I will start reading some physics book to try and relax...
I actually am feeling very very fed up. My hands are so important to me because of the guitar and if I lose flexibility in them, it matters so much.
But when I look at what Lyn and Andrew and James and all the rest of Chris's family are going through, I should be thankful for so many things and count the good things I have and look at this as an opportunity to learn something new.
So, those who pray, please carry the family in your hearts, especially at 1.30pm on Monday (GMT) when they will be saying a sad farewell to Chris.
I know it will mean a lot to them to know people are praying...
He would have loved it.
Tom doesn't want to go, but he keeps mentioning it every now and then. And Matt's class prayed for him in school.
As for me, I went to see the doctor this morning and she signed me off work onto the sick to REST! I hate REST! -it's always seemed pretty pointless to me.
So I've made a whole load of Christmas cards (perhaps that's why my hands are hurting), watched a DVD and chatted to a couple of friends from CF, who I love very dearly...
Mike's been in and out and is in work tomorrow and I will start reading some physics book to try and relax...
I actually am feeling very very fed up. My hands are so important to me because of the guitar and if I lose flexibility in them, it matters so much.
But when I look at what Lyn and Andrew and James and all the rest of Chris's family are going through, I should be thankful for so many things and count the good things I have and look at this as an opportunity to learn something new.
So, those who pray, please carry the family in your hearts, especially at 1.30pm on Monday (GMT) when they will be saying a sad farewell to Chris.
I know it will mean a lot to them to know people are praying...
Missing the road
I think a couple of things though that I have recently acknowledged have really helped me, which are too personal to go into here...yet...
But it is the decision to leave CF for a while (Christian Forums), which you'll have to forgive me for saying, is a very toxic place for people with doubts, that is probably my biggest step of divesting myself of things that wound.
It is a too dogmatic place to be, too certain for people grappling with uncertainty.
People wrestling uncertainy need understanding of that first and foremost.
They need to learn that uncertainty is a part of life to be grasped and celebrated, to seek truth, which may not be the truth they think it is and the answer they are expecting.
As Sidney Carter said of seeking his Jesus who was surrounded by a question mark, "You ask for dead certainties; all we offer is living possibilities"
But CF does not offer those living possibilities as an option, it allows, in its rules and structure, a board when members are encouraged to point towards the dead certainties and rebuke those who seek anything else and I think it is that in many cases that has killed many a seeker's faith dead.
Because people who seek may not be able to answer definitively if asked where they are, on which side of the road they belong, when often they're not even sure what road they are looking at.
Making them focus on the state of what they believe and what they doubt in the name of purity stifles their exploration even further, it makes them define things prematurely before they are refined and from CF's perspective, drives it further from where it is aiming.
And I think that was what happened to me. I do not blame anyone but myself, at any stage I could have switched off the computer and stopped the thoughts that the relentless probing of where I stood produced. It is probably, in the long term, good that I didn't, where I am now is more honest and open though terrifying, than I have ever been.
But I can't see a road at all now to walk on, just the landscape ahead. I miss the road like crazy, it was so good to know where I was going, but the trees and fields and distant mountains look inviting enough to explore them without that certainty that I once had.
And to explore without CF for a bit...
..and without the god I no longer believe in.
But it is the decision to leave CF for a while (Christian Forums), which you'll have to forgive me for saying, is a very toxic place for people with doubts, that is probably my biggest step of divesting myself of things that wound.
It is a too dogmatic place to be, too certain for people grappling with uncertainty.
People wrestling uncertainy need understanding of that first and foremost.
They need to learn that uncertainty is a part of life to be grasped and celebrated, to seek truth, which may not be the truth they think it is and the answer they are expecting.
As Sidney Carter said of seeking his Jesus who was surrounded by a question mark, "You ask for dead certainties; all we offer is living possibilities"
But CF does not offer those living possibilities as an option, it allows, in its rules and structure, a board when members are encouraged to point towards the dead certainties and rebuke those who seek anything else and I think it is that in many cases that has killed many a seeker's faith dead.
Because people who seek may not be able to answer definitively if asked where they are, on which side of the road they belong, when often they're not even sure what road they are looking at.
Making them focus on the state of what they believe and what they doubt in the name of purity stifles their exploration even further, it makes them define things prematurely before they are refined and from CF's perspective, drives it further from where it is aiming.
And I think that was what happened to me. I do not blame anyone but myself, at any stage I could have switched off the computer and stopped the thoughts that the relentless probing of where I stood produced. It is probably, in the long term, good that I didn't, where I am now is more honest and open though terrifying, than I have ever been.
But I can't see a road at all now to walk on, just the landscape ahead. I miss the road like crazy, it was so good to know where I was going, but the trees and fields and distant mountains look inviting enough to explore them without that certainty that I once had.
And to explore without CF for a bit...
..and without the god I no longer believe in.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Exploring
A year ago I was exploring my faith.
I didn't see it as anything else than looking more deeply to banish the doubts that were lurking.
Doubts over things like giving out condoms to prostitutes- a sin, I was told, putting me out of communion with the church (though that post vanished not long after I read it.)
Like whether Bishops who made statements that contained information that conflicted with accepted scientific research should be subject to criticism of that research (isn't what the Church says good enough for you anymore?)
And to cut a long story short, the exploring led to a shattering of the foundations.
On November 21st, I sent the request asking that my icon be changed. I was in turmoil inside, and the decision to deprive a senior member of CF of a Christian icon because of her beliefs threw up the fact for me that I, too, could not state I shared those beliefs..
What was interesting was that although I could not at that point say that I had lost all my faith, in fact in a message to a friend I said this..
But as I explored more and could only read and not post, cut off, as it were, things got fuzzier.
Until finally, on December 5th 2005, after a weekend in which I had argued long and hard in GA about OSAS doctrine, I realised here I was actually talking about myself
So I wrote once more to the patient alpha member and asked to be designated a non Christian.
And now- I'm exploring again but in a new a totally different area of my life and this exploration is fascinating, frightening, at times exquisitely painful but leading me on relentlessly.
Who knows where it all may lead.
I don't think, sadly, it will lead back to faith, but as I bid a fond farewell to CF, a place where I gained so much friendship, but lost so much, I hope at least to be led to a place where I am not afraid to talk and tell about what I am thinking or feeling for fear of being condemned and rebuked, as happened at CF. Because that may lead to change, but not in a good way, in a painful, twisted, nightmare, where things plunge so far down so rapidly, so out of control.
So here is to exploring, but on my terms...
And here's to the "celebration" shortly coming up, of my first anniversary of that nightmare day when I looked in the sky and realised I no longer saw God there...
And in that celebration (ironic word) realise the pain of realising it was all so much straw is the same today as it was nearly a year ago.
I didn't see it as anything else than looking more deeply to banish the doubts that were lurking.
Doubts over things like giving out condoms to prostitutes- a sin, I was told, putting me out of communion with the church (though that post vanished not long after I read it.)
Like whether Bishops who made statements that contained information that conflicted with accepted scientific research should be subject to criticism of that research (isn't what the Church says good enough for you anymore?)
And to cut a long story short, the exploring led to a shattering of the foundations.
On November 21st, I sent the request asking that my icon be changed. I was in turmoil inside, and the decision to deprive a senior member of CF of a Christian icon because of her beliefs threw up the fact for me that I, too, could not state I shared those beliefs..
"Hello
I originally sent this to one of the mods and was told to send it to a member of Alpha
I've been thinking about this over the last few days/weeks really. I cannot put my hand on my heart anymore and declare that I believe/affirm the Nicene creed in all it's aspects and therefore should treat myself the same way I would have treated someone else when I was a mod. I have a lot of doubts at present but also, the decision about "H" and a couple of other posts I have read have convinced me that I need to do this.
Thank you"
What was interesting was that although I could not at that point say that I had lost all my faith, in fact in a message to a friend I said this..
"Just wanted to let you know I won't be posting in OBOB for a bit.I prayed for people still, asked for prayers and held on, to what I wasn't sure entirely, but held on I did.
Because of various things I've changed my icon to Other Church, which means I cant post in the CO section.
I'm still going to church and all that, I just don't like things about the way that CF has done some things lately added to which I am actually all over the place doubt wise
It hopefully will stop me being on so much and hey, it'll sure keep me out of Reilly's."
But as I explored more and could only read and not post, cut off, as it were, things got fuzzier.
Until finally, on December 5th 2005, after a weekend in which I had argued long and hard in GA about OSAS doctrine, I realised here I was actually talking about myself
"I think our understanding of another is difficult because we are coming from 2 different approaches.
I can see what you are saying. From a viewpoint that does not believe in the type of spiritual rebirth you are talking about, I would say that if you examined a "born again" Christian in minute detail- their thoughts, beliefs, attitude, prayer life, and their intimate view of their personal relationship with Jesus and compared it with the people who are posting on this thread when they were calling themselves "born again", you would find no difference.
To you, I think you are saying, it is because either they were not truly in a relationship with Jesus or that they were and will one day return, being inevitably drawn back to that which they cannot resist.
To someone who does not believe in Jesus anymore, they have experienced a great loss, because whatever you say cannot undo the fact that their beliefs, their relationship to them was genuine, full of meaning and often the be all and end all of their life. And not believing as you do in this spiritual rebirth, they quite rightly point to you and say, R, I was once like you.
Until suddenly, one day, it all became so much straw."
So I wrote once more to the patient alpha member and asked to be designated a non Christian.
"Sorry S.
I've come to the conclusion that the only honest thing I can do is ask for a change to a Seeker icon.
I cannot really say I believe anything anymore, which is probably the saddest thing I have ever written.
But I will keep seeking and hoping that one day what I had will return."
And now- I'm exploring again but in a new a totally different area of my life and this exploration is fascinating, frightening, at times exquisitely painful but leading me on relentlessly.
Who knows where it all may lead.
I don't think, sadly, it will lead back to faith, but as I bid a fond farewell to CF, a place where I gained so much friendship, but lost so much, I hope at least to be led to a place where I am not afraid to talk and tell about what I am thinking or feeling for fear of being condemned and rebuked, as happened at CF. Because that may lead to change, but not in a good way, in a painful, twisted, nightmare, where things plunge so far down so rapidly, so out of control.
So here is to exploring, but on my terms...
And here's to the "celebration" shortly coming up, of my first anniversary of that nightmare day when I looked in the sky and realised I no longer saw God there...
And in that celebration (ironic word) realise the pain of realising it was all so much straw is the same today as it was nearly a year ago.
Monday, November 13, 2006
A sad day
When the boys were little, we lived round the corner from my sister in law. Next door but one to her lived Chris, the same age as my Tom. He had a chronic skin condition and was very small for his age but oh so lively! He and the boys and the girls from down the road spent every dry day outside together and every wet day inside, usually in our house. Tom didn't mix well, and I would sit on the step or on the wall with a book, to keep an eye on proceedings.
One day Tom had a chest infection and I took him to the doctor. Chris was there with Lyn, his mother just before us with what she thought was the same thing. He'd just gone on a wonderful new drug for his skin, which had left him bald and in need of creams several times a day.
But it wasn't a chest infection, it was heart failure...
And tests led to the sad news that only a transplant would save him and as he was so small and in need of such a quick result, it seemed unlikely.
But two days later, they got the call, while dad was in church on Good Friday.
He recovered well and was back in school in no time, up to his old tricks.
Well we moved away and Tom went to the special school and we lost contact.
And today I heard the sad news that Chris was dead, after spending a period of time in hospital.
And as I think of those summer days, sitting on the wall, the kids annoying the life out of all the neighbours, I weep for his wonderful parents and his brother, who gave him so much of their time and energy and loved him so very much and now are in sorely in need of everyone elses comfort and help...
A sad day...
Please remember Chris and his family as you see fit, I am sure they will appreciate it.
One day Tom had a chest infection and I took him to the doctor. Chris was there with Lyn, his mother just before us with what she thought was the same thing. He'd just gone on a wonderful new drug for his skin, which had left him bald and in need of creams several times a day.
But it wasn't a chest infection, it was heart failure...
And tests led to the sad news that only a transplant would save him and as he was so small and in need of such a quick result, it seemed unlikely.
But two days later, they got the call, while dad was in church on Good Friday.
He recovered well and was back in school in no time, up to his old tricks.
Well we moved away and Tom went to the special school and we lost contact.
And today I heard the sad news that Chris was dead, after spending a period of time in hospital.
And as I think of those summer days, sitting on the wall, the kids annoying the life out of all the neighbours, I weep for his wonderful parents and his brother, who gave him so much of their time and energy and loved him so very much and now are in sorely in need of everyone elses comfort and help...
A sad day...
Please remember Chris and his family as you see fit, I am sure they will appreciate it.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Missing hugs
I am missing hugs
And touching
And shaking hands
And moving quickly around the place, bending, turning round to look at something funny behind me
Walking long distances without worrying about getting back to the car
Lying in bed without being bothered about how I'm going to get up again
Cuddling with Mike
It's been 4 months now and I just want to wake up one morning and not hurt.
*sigh*
However, it is teaching me what others have gone through for a far longer time...
I think I would have prefered a virtual lesson though rather than the full written interactive one.
Still, got to laugh, hey?
At least I've done 40,000 words!!
And tomorrow I've got a lunch break (don't tell anyone, they may find a way to fill it...)
and the day after is saturday and I plan to finish the book this weekend.
Faint heart never won fair lady after all.
And touching
And shaking hands
And moving quickly around the place, bending, turning round to look at something funny behind me
Walking long distances without worrying about getting back to the car
Lying in bed without being bothered about how I'm going to get up again
Cuddling with Mike
It's been 4 months now and I just want to wake up one morning and not hurt.
*sigh*
However, it is teaching me what others have gone through for a far longer time...
I think I would have prefered a virtual lesson though rather than the full written interactive one.
Still, got to laugh, hey?
At least I've done 40,000 words!!
And tomorrow I've got a lunch break (don't tell anyone, they may find a way to fill it...)
and the day after is saturday and I plan to finish the book this weekend.
Faint heart never won fair lady after all.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Walks and words...
Well I managed 5 miles.
Was probably not wise, my knees and feet are still hurting. My neck was bad too, I dressed several peoples feet and the odd positions I stuck it in are still causing me grief.
But the joints have told me not to worry, that they'll settle down.
So I've gone straight from that into nanowrimo and I'm up to 17,000 words already. It's spured me on to finally leave CF, to empty my blessings bank, tear up my character, symbolically say bye to all there. Lost so much!
So at the moment, I think I'm written out, I've done about 6,000 words today and my head, hands and fingers hurt!
So I'm on a break, listening to Lindisfarne and drinking coffee while the boys watch the rugby.
And I'm trying not to think about Monday or week Tuesday...
After no deaths for ten years, two in two weeks and two inquests in 8 days.
I think that neither will be pleasant, for me and certainly not for the families, wrapped in grief.
Rest in peace.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Moaning bones and laughing joints...
My bones are groaning.
I wish they'd shut up, I can do enough moaning and groaning without them joining in.
They seem to be saying...
"50 mile walk! Are you mad or what??"
I totally agree with them at this point, going to Lourdes for three days and walking 50 miles is not the most sensible thing to do when you have a probable active rheumatoid arthritis...
But if I listen to my bones, I guess I'd end up doing nothing, but sitting at home, wrapping myself up in cotton wool and having a pity party..
So, I'm listening to my joints instead, who are far more sensible.
They say "Keep us moving, but don't stress us too much. Keep us laughing and smiling and oil us with tablets and accept the fact that this is how it is going to be. If we fight off the attack, we'll find it easier to laugh, if we don't, maybe more difficult, but we'll still succeed!"
My joints are far more optimistic than my bones.
I think I'll go with them.
If the arthritis gets better- I'll find it easier to smile but if it doesn't, I cannot make it better by moaning and groaning and sitting in a hole. I need to just listen to my joints, put the bones on ignore and carry on to meet the next hurdle.
And you can see why I have to go from the total I've got...
Thanks to all my lovely sponsors.
*hugs*
I wish they'd shut up, I can do enough moaning and groaning without them joining in.
They seem to be saying...
"50 mile walk! Are you mad or what??"
I totally agree with them at this point, going to Lourdes for three days and walking 50 miles is not the most sensible thing to do when you have a probable active rheumatoid arthritis...
But if I listen to my bones, I guess I'd end up doing nothing, but sitting at home, wrapping myself up in cotton wool and having a pity party..
So, I'm listening to my joints instead, who are far more sensible.
They say "Keep us moving, but don't stress us too much. Keep us laughing and smiling and oil us with tablets and accept the fact that this is how it is going to be. If we fight off the attack, we'll find it easier to laugh, if we don't, maybe more difficult, but we'll still succeed!"
My joints are far more optimistic than my bones.
I think I'll go with them.
If the arthritis gets better- I'll find it easier to smile but if it doesn't, I cannot make it better by moaning and groaning and sitting in a hole. I need to just listen to my joints, put the bones on ignore and carry on to meet the next hurdle.
And you can see why I have to go from the total I've got...
Thanks to all my lovely sponsors.
*hugs*
Monday, October 16, 2006
Just a little passage I read.
This is- virtually- a copy of a message I sent someone.
Talking about faith, belief and so on...
I do rabbit on a bit...
Just a little passage I read...
Earlier today I found a book I'd mislaid for sometime, found rather thankfully, as it is hard to get.
Another of those little co-incidences
Called "Dance in the Dark" and written by Sidney Carter, writer of Lord of the Dance, it chronicles his loss of traditional faith and his movement from loyalty to Christianity to loyalty to truth, but with a realisation that in truth, he would not be disappointed, nor would he disappoint any God worthy of the name.
This passage struck me:
My Jesus is surrounded by a question mark.
Lack of conclusive proof concerning what he did or said is an essential element of what he is.
What kind of proof can I expect?
Round the lips of pre-classical, archaic staues of the gods and goddesses of ancient Greece hovers a playful smile: ironical and yet serene. There, I find an answer to my question.
"The question you ask is not the right one. The proof you seek is not the kind of proof that matters.
Back your hunch and take your chances, that is how the game is played.
You are part of creation, so create.
To create, you have to play.
You ask for dead certainties; all we offer is living possibilities.
Sulk and you will get no pity.
So take up your fate, your cross (if you prefer to call it that) and use it to create."
The Jesus that I choose is one who takes up the challenge
"You are right" he says "that is how the game is played."
So I create.
I show the song I hear, the dance I feel.
That is what I choose and I back it with my life.
I think I need to stop sulking and get back to dancing!
To dancing in the light and dancing in the dark.
To reclaim the Jesus that I can believe in- his teachings, his compassion, his challenge to live and love; and to live it in my life the best way I can.
Whether I can see a God in the sky or not.
Talking about faith, belief and so on...
I do rabbit on a bit...
Just a little passage I read...
Earlier today I found a book I'd mislaid for sometime, found rather thankfully, as it is hard to get.
Another of those little co-incidences
Called "Dance in the Dark" and written by Sidney Carter, writer of Lord of the Dance, it chronicles his loss of traditional faith and his movement from loyalty to Christianity to loyalty to truth, but with a realisation that in truth, he would not be disappointed, nor would he disappoint any God worthy of the name.
This passage struck me:
My Jesus is surrounded by a question mark.
Lack of conclusive proof concerning what he did or said is an essential element of what he is.
What kind of proof can I expect?
Round the lips of pre-classical, archaic staues of the gods and goddesses of ancient Greece hovers a playful smile: ironical and yet serene. There, I find an answer to my question.
"The question you ask is not the right one. The proof you seek is not the kind of proof that matters.
Back your hunch and take your chances, that is how the game is played.
You are part of creation, so create.
To create, you have to play.
You ask for dead certainties; all we offer is living possibilities.
Sulk and you will get no pity.
So take up your fate, your cross (if you prefer to call it that) and use it to create."
The Jesus that I choose is one who takes up the challenge
"You are right" he says "that is how the game is played."
So I create.
I show the song I hear, the dance I feel.
That is what I choose and I back it with my life.
I think I need to stop sulking and get back to dancing!
To dancing in the light and dancing in the dark.
To reclaim the Jesus that I can believe in- his teachings, his compassion, his challenge to live and love; and to live it in my life the best way I can.
Whether I can see a God in the sky or not.
Monday, October 09, 2006
A rose...
The Rose- Bette Midler
When the night has been too lonely and the road has been too long;
And you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong;
Just remember that in the winter, far beneath the bitter snow;
Lies the seed, that with the sun's love in the spring becomes the rose.
Time to move on.
I just have to wait for the sun to return, which it will, it always does.
The heaviness that is so hard to shift will ease and be replaced.
But I know that what I once had has perished in the snows, and maybe was never truly there to begin with and will never return.
And I know it is fruitless to continue searching.
Still, I have some life left to live, things to do, sensations to enjoy, sorrows to meet.
Children to bring up and send on their way, cards to make, clients to help and listen to,
Friends to laugh with
Mikey to be with....
Because I have loved life, I shall continue to live and at the end, I shall have no sorrow to die.
Adieu.
When the night has been too lonely and the road has been too long;
And you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong;
Just remember that in the winter, far beneath the bitter snow;
Lies the seed, that with the sun's love in the spring becomes the rose.
Time to move on.
I just have to wait for the sun to return, which it will, it always does.
The heaviness that is so hard to shift will ease and be replaced.
But I know that what I once had has perished in the snows, and maybe was never truly there to begin with and will never return.
And I know it is fruitless to continue searching.
Still, I have some life left to live, things to do, sensations to enjoy, sorrows to meet.
Children to bring up and send on their way, cards to make, clients to help and listen to,
Friends to laugh with
Mikey to be with....
Because I have loved life, I shall continue to live and at the end, I shall have no sorrow to die.
Adieu.
No, not adieu..
After all...
"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important".
Saturday, October 07, 2006
Bible- Why??
I've recently been reading Gerald Priestland's excellent "Priestland's Progress- One Man's search for Christianity now."
Priestland, a Quaker, made a radio series in the early 1980s for the BBC which encompasses a journey through Christianity, interveiwing many different Christians and others to explore his own faith in a personal and deeply moving way.
As I read the views of many people interviewed, one thing that struck me was their reliance on the Bible as the guide for their faith, without any of them really saying why they did that- which to them may be self evident, but in my position at the moment, it is not.
So I suppose my question is why should one regard the Bible as the word of God, and perhaps, more importantly, what does that actually mean to individual Christians?
I'm deliberately posting this here, not GA because I'm not after a debate but answers from Christians to questions I have.
Thanks in advance
Cat
Posted here at CF...
But I asked for it to be closed.
Why?
Well no one seems to understand what I'm asking and I'm not sure if I fully understand it myself.
Directed to how often the question has been answered before, I didn't feel I could say, after reading the answers in the many links given, I know that, all that and it doesn't answer what I'm asking.
I think it's because what I'm searching for is proof and proof will never be found.
And faith has gone, so there's no way back.
But if anyone out there can tell me why the bible?- I'd be grateful...
Or even tell me what I'm asking- it might be a start.
I wept buckets over that thread too- it'll be the last time I do something like that at CF! I'm back to fluff, stupidity and glitter...
Priestland, a Quaker, made a radio series in the early 1980s for the BBC which encompasses a journey through Christianity, interveiwing many different Christians and others to explore his own faith in a personal and deeply moving way.
As I read the views of many people interviewed, one thing that struck me was their reliance on the Bible as the guide for their faith, without any of them really saying why they did that- which to them may be self evident, but in my position at the moment, it is not.
So I suppose my question is why should one regard the Bible as the word of God, and perhaps, more importantly, what does that actually mean to individual Christians?
I'm deliberately posting this here, not GA because I'm not after a debate but answers from Christians to questions I have.
Thanks in advance
Cat
Posted here at CF...
But I asked for it to be closed.
Why?
Well no one seems to understand what I'm asking and I'm not sure if I fully understand it myself.
Directed to how often the question has been answered before, I didn't feel I could say, after reading the answers in the many links given, I know that, all that and it doesn't answer what I'm asking.
I think it's because what I'm searching for is proof and proof will never be found.
And faith has gone, so there's no way back.
But if anyone out there can tell me why the bible?- I'd be grateful...
Or even tell me what I'm asking- it might be a start.
I wept buckets over that thread too- it'll be the last time I do something like that at CF! I'm back to fluff, stupidity and glitter...
Monday, October 02, 2006
Psalm 121
Psalm 121
I lift up my eyes to the hills— where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot slip— he who watches over you will not slumber;
indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.
The LORD watches over you— the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.
The LORD will keep you from all harm— he will watch over your life;
the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.
I loved this Psalm.
Every time I passed a hill or mountain, it ran through my mind and my heart.
Being watched over by a Lord who cared
Who would keep me from harm.
Now I knew that was not physical harm
I had my share of that!
Nor emotional, mental harm.
But spiritual harm
I had a God who would keep me safe if I but trusted.
But...
Went pear shaped.
Now the Psalm rings hollow
The cries of victory that once filled me with strength say nothing
Say that I was deluded, the book that once I placed my faith in is no more of God than the writings of all those others...
The faith I held and held so dear was straw, myth, fable.
And I stand alone...
I know I sound sorrowful, which I am.
But I am not looking for anything but understanding.
I have no choice but to feel this way, no option but to walk on
And hope that whatever I walk into will be truth, will be reality
Not fable.
I remain open.
I trust and hope that if out there somewhere there is a god, who wants me to know of him
He will let me know and guide me
But I have little hope of that happening
Sadly.
I lift up my eyes to the hills— where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot slip— he who watches over you will not slumber;
indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.
The LORD watches over you— the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.
The LORD will keep you from all harm— he will watch over your life;
the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.
I loved this Psalm.
Every time I passed a hill or mountain, it ran through my mind and my heart.
Being watched over by a Lord who cared
Who would keep me from harm.
Now I knew that was not physical harm
I had my share of that!
Nor emotional, mental harm.
But spiritual harm
I had a God who would keep me safe if I but trusted.
But...
Went pear shaped.
Now the Psalm rings hollow
The cries of victory that once filled me with strength say nothing
Say that I was deluded, the book that once I placed my faith in is no more of God than the writings of all those others...
The faith I held and held so dear was straw, myth, fable.
And I stand alone...
I know I sound sorrowful, which I am.
But I am not looking for anything but understanding.
I have no choice but to feel this way, no option but to walk on
And hope that whatever I walk into will be truth, will be reality
Not fable.
I remain open.
I trust and hope that if out there somewhere there is a god, who wants me to know of him
He will let me know and guide me
But I have little hope of that happening
Sadly.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Psalm 22
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
Why are you so far from saving me,
so far from the words of my groaning?
O my God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer,
by night, and am not silent.
I've been crying and praying on and off most of the last hour or so...
Please come back.
But nothing.
All is straw.
Why are you so far from saving me,
so far from the words of my groaning?
O my God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer,
by night, and am not silent.
I've been crying and praying on and off most of the last hour or so...
Please come back.
But nothing.
All is straw.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Message to a friend
Someone sent me a lovely message and this was my reply. I just wanted to reproduce it here, because it expresses how I am thinking at the moment about missing my faith...
"What I miss is quite simple, it is the presence of my faith in my life and the extra dimension it brought.
I felt secure and loved by a wonderful creator and overwhelmed by a God who became man and died for me.
I had what was for me a relationship with that God- and let no one deny that.
I miss that at times terribly and my birthday brought it out.
Just because a person was once in love with a cheating man who they thought was in love with them, does not mean once they find the truth out, the loss of the love they believed was there does not hurt.
Every now and then this surfaces...and lately, probably because I've been in pain and tired and emotional, it has surfaced with a bang.
But I know feelings do not facts make and as much as I want God back, I know that my wanting cannot make him any more real than Santa.
That hurts like heck at the moment, but sometimes, I have found, I have to let things hurt so I can work through them to the other side."
I cannot just take God back, make myself believe because I don't.
I want to believe as I did before but I can't.
So I just have to work through my hurt and come out the other side, a heathen, as I believe the term is, one of the great unwashed.
And it hurts to know that is how I am thought of, but it is, I guess, what I now am.
Thank you for all your support, my dear friends, I am sorry that it has not succeeded.
*hugs* to you all...
"What I miss is quite simple, it is the presence of my faith in my life and the extra dimension it brought.
I felt secure and loved by a wonderful creator and overwhelmed by a God who became man and died for me.
I had what was for me a relationship with that God- and let no one deny that.
I miss that at times terribly and my birthday brought it out.
Just because a person was once in love with a cheating man who they thought was in love with them, does not mean once they find the truth out, the loss of the love they believed was there does not hurt.
Every now and then this surfaces...and lately, probably because I've been in pain and tired and emotional, it has surfaced with a bang.
But I know feelings do not facts make and as much as I want God back, I know that my wanting cannot make him any more real than Santa.
That hurts like heck at the moment, but sometimes, I have found, I have to let things hurt so I can work through them to the other side."
I cannot just take God back, make myself believe because I don't.
I want to believe as I did before but I can't.
So I just have to work through my hurt and come out the other side, a heathen, as I believe the term is, one of the great unwashed.
And it hurts to know that is how I am thought of, but it is, I guess, what I now am.
Thank you for all your support, my dear friends, I am sorry that it has not succeeded.
*hugs* to you all...
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Pity Party
It started because I decided to look back at last years blog to see what I was up to...
And read this... (post 255, 16th Sept 2005)
Funny, the tune was going through my head again.
And I read on, through the months that followed and suddenly saw how far away I was.
And thought of this time last year- of having a "Happy Birthday" thread in OBOB and being part of something that now I am so far from.
Where did that go?
Why did it go?
And a forum without a birthday thread reminds me I am a branch cut from the vine that has withered and died inside...
If I could turn back time and become just 21 again....
So this is my little pity party
Mourning the loss of my faith
Because it is a loss
It was a positive thing for me
It helped me and made me grow
Well, there may have been negative bits too, but tonight all I can see is loss and I'm weeping.
Boy I hate these hormones...
I want God back.
And read this... (post 255, 16th Sept 2005)
Funny, the tune was going through my head again.
And I read on, through the months that followed and suddenly saw how far away I was.
And thought of this time last year- of having a "Happy Birthday" thread in OBOB and being part of something that now I am so far from.
Martyrdom by pinpricks
Can't remember where I read that
Rumer Godden?
But pinpricks, continual, persistent, can be painful and hard to
endure.
How difficult to hold back the words, the retorts, the anger!
Leave me alone!
I just want to be alone and live my own life, my way.
But he looks on, smiling at my weaknesses
Look through the forest, work your way through the maze, ignore the
pinpricks, the dross, the padding and go to the heart of the matter.
That God is love.
Active, real love.
The love of God will defeat the pinpricks, the dross, the
superficial.
It will pull the mighty from their thrones and raise the lowly.
It will fill the starving, send the rich away empty.
If love is not there, He is not either.
Remember!
Where did that go?
Why did it go?
And a forum without a birthday thread reminds me I am a branch cut from the vine that has withered and died inside...
If I could turn back time and become just 21 again....
So this is my little pity party
Mourning the loss of my faith
Because it is a loss
It was a positive thing for me
It helped me and made me grow
Well, there may have been negative bits too, but tonight all I can see is loss and I'm weeping.
Boy I hate these hormones...
I want God back.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
9/11
Some events imprint themselves on your memory.
Aberfan was the first such memory for me, even though I could have been no more than 7 or 8.
My father had worked down the Merthyr Vale pit during the war, the pit which produced the dust which went on the tip which slipped and killed a whole generation of children.
I just remember it being a dark dark day, my mother crying, my father going to take things needed to a depot.
And being aware that if I had gone to school that day in Aberfan, I would not have come home.
9/11
Coming out of the lecture theatre to be told "there's been a terrible accident"
Only hearing accounts till I got home then watching in tears and horror as people fell to their death, were crushed by the falling towers.
For what?
No words to answer, just Max Boyce's poem on Aberfan.
Wherever we are tomorrow, let us bow our heads and remember all those whose autumns came too soon.
Aberfan was the first such memory for me, even though I could have been no more than 7 or 8.
My father had worked down the Merthyr Vale pit during the war, the pit which produced the dust which went on the tip which slipped and killed a whole generation of children.
I just remember it being a dark dark day, my mother crying, my father going to take things needed to a depot.
And being aware that if I had gone to school that day in Aberfan, I would not have come home.
9/11
Coming out of the lecture theatre to be told "there's been a terrible accident"
Only hearing accounts till I got home then watching in tears and horror as people fell to their death, were crushed by the falling towers.
For what?
No words to answer, just Max Boyce's poem on Aberfan.
Wherever we are tomorrow, let us bow our heads and remember all those whose autumns came too soon.
Aberfan
A shy fragile leaf now greens
In a bright and plastic room
On tender stems it offers forth
To cast its earthen womb
Fed by a valley's tears
That watched it leaf and grow
To tell of ones that sleep the night
In Aberfan below
One day those sleepy flowers
Will leave that sunsealed land
And wink away the night
That no one understands
To tell us why that summer fades
In a single afternoon
And why that day in Aberfan
Did autumn come too soon.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
The life that I have
The life that I have is all that I have...
Words that rang through my head this morning as I did some reading.
Try as hard as I can, I just cannot believe in an after-life.
That is scary.
Because one day, inevitably, I will die and be no more.
Buddhism suggests meditating upon death as a preparation for it- but they too believe in something continuing after death.
Which I cannot.
Should that make a difference?
The next line of the poem reads...
The life that I have is yours.
If instead of looking for a physical or mental continuation of my life, I give my life and the love of my life away now, prepare for the death and separation that will come and then live joyously with those around me, then death will not be the end of the life that I have lived.
And what better way to do that than by following the path of those wise men and women who have touched so many through the years?
"Unless you forgive from the heart..."
"Love your neighbour as yourself..."
"Go and do likewise..."
Just a thought.
Friday, September 01, 2006
Moans and groans
I had a virus infection about four weeks ago and it has left me with an "inflammatory arthritis" or so the doctor put it so nicely yesterday.
Should be gone in another month or so (didn't like the "or so" bit.)
Meantime, I take some anti- inflammatories, have a whole load of bloods done (yikes!) and suffer in not quite silence for the next few weeks.
I'm not looking forward to my return to work on Monday like this, and I have a peer group meeting and have to cope without my wonderful old ward...
I'm in self pity mode big time.
Added to which hubbie has had a crisis (no details, but extremely worrying and stressful) son1 keeps bursting into tears because he wants a girlfriend like son2 and son2's affairs of the heart are causing me more stress than the rest of them put together.
So I felt close to packing up shop at the begining of the week.
Putting an answerphone message on my life.
"I'm sorry, Cath is not available at the moment, she has left the planet in a cloud of angst."
But I would never do that, too much pain and heartache.
Nice to think of a thought-less stress-less place to be sometimes though.
A day out might even be nice...
OK, moan over.
Today we are going to a bird sanctuary and I will take more photos to bore people with and hopefully have two mminutes to sit and enjoy the atmosphere without son1 sounding off in one ear, son2 in the other and hubbie in the third...
Oh and the pic was an icon I saw in a Church in Abergavenny.
Taize icon.
brought back memories, so I took it with me in my reclaiming quest...
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Summer Holiday2
We've all been on our Summer break.
To Yorkshire, to a beautiful cottage.
It had its high points and its not so high points...
Like the power kept cutting out and the lack of privacy not apparent in the advert.
And the weather
And the children, who were demanding and dissatisfied by a great deal of what went on.
T was his usual self, totally focused on himself and his needs and proud of the fact.
"What do you expect?" he answered at one point, as I attempted to haul my aching body round York in an attempt to find the one shop he HAD to go to...
Two hours later, found and rejected as being "ridiculous" for not having the product he "needed." An ice cream helped distract, as always and I had the chance to wander through the rambling shambling passages of York and sit in awe at the wonderful structure that is York Minster.
Mw was quieter than usual, worried about his gf, wanting to speak to her, be with her as she went through a difficult time. But he relaxed gradually and his witty and sharp banter kept up my spirits as my body continued to ache and complain.
M drifted along, above it all, taking T out for walks and drives in turns, reading his books and greatly enjoying the railway museum.
Me?
I took great pleasure from the little things I could.
The brook at the end of the road.
The views.
Meeting an internet friend and his fiancee.
The rabbits playing in the fields by the cottage.
The wind on my face while riding the "pirate boat" with Mw in Scarborough bay.
The views of the Moors, the purple heather, the silence.
Sitting on the couch with Mw snuggling in, watching Shrek2 and listening to him laugh...
Things of incalcuable worth and joy.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Reclaiming Christ
When I was little and growing up, I remember a period when feminists were seeking to "reclaim the night." Looking at taking away fear and dread from the bogeyman who dwelt there, terrorising women into not going into the night and making it once more a place of joy and delight, a time to explore, to allow the mind to expand with the vastness of the sky and the distant lights of the stars.
Today, as I read A N Wilson's book on Paul, my mind expanded and the phrase came into my head "reclaiming Christ." Now Wilson, like others, is not a believer of the historical view of Christ as my old church used to see him. He sees the gospels as being the growing churches interpretation of the life of Christ and feels we will never have a truly accurate picture of the Christ that really was.
But does that really matter, I muse to myself, if I can try and reclaim some of the teachings that still echo in my heart?
It's no use trying to talk with real life people about this, they see only my rejection of what they hold dear. But when I read, as I still do occasionally, the writings of Carlo Carretto or Jean Vanier or Brother Roger or Mother Teresa, these incredibly wonderful people I see that they were driven by something that I want to reclaim, even if I cannot really believe it.
I'm so far away from where I was once, when my life just twirled around Christ.
Is it possible to reclaim that while not believing it?
Is it possible?
Can resurrection mean something vital still, though not once what it did?
Time to muse and ponder.
Perhaps reclaiming Christ means to live Christ, to live resurrection...
Who knows?
I can try though...
Today, as I read A N Wilson's book on Paul, my mind expanded and the phrase came into my head "reclaiming Christ." Now Wilson, like others, is not a believer of the historical view of Christ as my old church used to see him. He sees the gospels as being the growing churches interpretation of the life of Christ and feels we will never have a truly accurate picture of the Christ that really was.
But does that really matter, I muse to myself, if I can try and reclaim some of the teachings that still echo in my heart?
It's no use trying to talk with real life people about this, they see only my rejection of what they hold dear. But when I read, as I still do occasionally, the writings of Carlo Carretto or Jean Vanier or Brother Roger or Mother Teresa, these incredibly wonderful people I see that they were driven by something that I want to reclaim, even if I cannot really believe it.
I'm so far away from where I was once, when my life just twirled around Christ.
Is it possible to reclaim that while not believing it?
Is it possible?
Can resurrection mean something vital still, though not once what it did?
Time to muse and ponder.
Perhaps reclaiming Christ means to live Christ, to live resurrection...
Who knows?
I can try though...
When you forgive your enemy
When you feed the hungry
When you defend the weak
you believe in the resurrection
When you wake at peace in the morning
When you sing to the rising sun
When you go to work with joy
you believe in the resurrection.
Belief in the resurrection means filling life with faith
it means believing in your brother
it means fearless towards all...
Carlo Carretto, Blessed are you who believed.
Monday, July 24, 2006
Summer Holidays
So I was on the phone to a friend and she suggested that I join her in a 50 mile sponsored walk. Being in a somewhat manic mood at the moment, I responded in the affirmative with this being the outcome. So I now have 3 months to raise £500 and get into shape for a 50 mile walk in 2 days in the foothills of the Pyrennees, to raise money to take disabled children to Lourdes with our Lourdes group.
So why is a committed atheist doing this? Perhaps my posts back in April about the Lourdes trip (Lourdes1- Lourdes7) will tell why. Despite not believing in the events that took place there, nor in the God that those go there pray to, I believe in the positive effects that taking such children away as a group and giving them the love and care that they need can bring...
So in practising I am incuring the wrath of Tom. Today, we went to Cefn On Park (pics above) so I could walk my mile. Tom was irate and trailed behind muttering about how I shouldn't do things for other people, only him and how hot it was. In the end he told me it was so hot, he wished he could destroy the sun.
"You'd be dead too then" I informed him.
"I DON'T CARE!!!" was the impassioned response.
Recognising by this that our son1 was strongly moved, I probed into why life had got so troubled once again.
The non arrival of a game he was expecting was the trigger and it needed much coaxing and Socratic type questioning to arrive at a point where he would let the sun live.
That and an ice cream helped.
And now he's back happily playing on a game- for the next ten minutes or so...
And I am increasingly thankful that weapons of extraordinary power are out of his hands...
And me, I'm gathering up my energy to do another walk...
So, please, if you know any millionaires, point them in the direction of my site and ask them to send some money to help send some children to Lourdes.
And keep me and my poor legs in your thoughts. They're complaining already...
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Busy week
So this time last week I was in Antwerp at a truly joyous celebration of the love that two people have for each other. And Tuesday I was in Glasgow. And today I am recovering from a Ball last night.
Add in to that a busy couple of days in work, emotional turmoil between colleagues and children and you have one busy week.
But, as always, it came and went. Time marched on unstoppable. And in cyber land, feelings were hurt, dramas enacted, rules discussed and pondered and enforced.
And I felt increasingly disconnected from this strange virtual world where seemingly small things take on such huge proportions and my world, where I am ant like amongst the important virtual Christians, who stomp round and trample without thought of who they are crushing with their words and actions.
And who seem so strangely disconnected themselves (with notable exceptions) from the words of the Christ they follow.
And last night, Martin fixed me with his beady eye, inbetween his usual pattern of behaviour and reminded me that I was to come and see him to chat.
I laughed.
Still atheist, I told him.
Made no promises either.
No words of his will convince, from him will come nothing new, all that may happen is a fracturing of friendships.
So I smiled and accepted the Sambucca offered and left him in Martin universe.
And now it is morning and I am wide awake and M snores peacefully and T roams the house in his morning fashion.
Another busy day to face.
Add in to that a busy couple of days in work, emotional turmoil between colleagues and children and you have one busy week.
But, as always, it came and went. Time marched on unstoppable. And in cyber land, feelings were hurt, dramas enacted, rules discussed and pondered and enforced.
And I felt increasingly disconnected from this strange virtual world where seemingly small things take on such huge proportions and my world, where I am ant like amongst the important virtual Christians, who stomp round and trample without thought of who they are crushing with their words and actions.
And who seem so strangely disconnected themselves (with notable exceptions) from the words of the Christ they follow.
And last night, Martin fixed me with his beady eye, inbetween his usual pattern of behaviour and reminded me that I was to come and see him to chat.
I laughed.
Still atheist, I told him.
Made no promises either.
No words of his will convince, from him will come nothing new, all that may happen is a fracturing of friendships.
So I smiled and accepted the Sambucca offered and left him in Martin universe.
And now it is morning and I am wide awake and M snores peacefully and T roams the house in his morning fashion.
Another busy day to face.
Monday, July 03, 2006
Faith 2
Hebrews 11.1
Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.
What do I now hope for, now that I no longer believe?
Having read this thread on CF, in particular one or two of the posts from Christians, it is as if I have become colour blind to God.
The things they say make no sense.
Once I used to say those things, think like that, believe with all my heart and mind and strength, yet now, it seems like so much straw.
So what do I have faith and hope in?
Those I love, those I cherish, those I trust.
Those real living breathing people that I have surrounded myself with, who work with me and live with me and love with me and laugh with me and cry with me.
And one day all shall be dust.
No substance in my future, just an end to me and my conscious presence in this world.
No gates of paradise to walk through, no beatific vision, no happy ending of the Last Battle for me.
Some may wonder how I keep on living with this thought.
Why not end now, walk away?
Well, I don't want to, I have too much to do, my boys to see to, my clients to listen to and hold through their despair and their dark nights. Who would see to them and who would put on Tom's cream, calm his fears, laugh at his jokes, soothe his troubled brow?
But I retain the right to walk away at a time of my choosing if ever the going gets too much and I have nothing left to offer, no family or friends to fight for, to give to, no skills left for those who need it.
And I can live with that knowledge of the finality and inevitability of death.
It is real for me, as surely as day follows night follows day, that one day I will be no more.
And as reality, I prefer it to the stories I used to live with.
The story of a creator who consigns people to eternal torment for following the wrong path, for foolishness, for silly human pride and weaknesses that we all posses. Who listens to the wailing and gnashing of teeth, but who does not respond for all eternity.
Thinking this through and saying it out loud makes me unspeakably sad, because this is not how I used to see the Lord, the one who was my Lord, my God, my all.
But my vision has altered and there is no way back.
There is no substance now in the things I once hoped for and no evidence of things unseen.
Just me and reality going forward, till I get as far as I can go.
Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.
What do I now hope for, now that I no longer believe?
Having read this thread on CF, in particular one or two of the posts from Christians, it is as if I have become colour blind to God.
The things they say make no sense.
Once I used to say those things, think like that, believe with all my heart and mind and strength, yet now, it seems like so much straw.
So what do I have faith and hope in?
Those I love, those I cherish, those I trust.
Those real living breathing people that I have surrounded myself with, who work with me and live with me and love with me and laugh with me and cry with me.
And one day all shall be dust.
No substance in my future, just an end to me and my conscious presence in this world.
No gates of paradise to walk through, no beatific vision, no happy ending of the Last Battle for me.
Some may wonder how I keep on living with this thought.
Why not end now, walk away?
Well, I don't want to, I have too much to do, my boys to see to, my clients to listen to and hold through their despair and their dark nights. Who would see to them and who would put on Tom's cream, calm his fears, laugh at his jokes, soothe his troubled brow?
But I retain the right to walk away at a time of my choosing if ever the going gets too much and I have nothing left to offer, no family or friends to fight for, to give to, no skills left for those who need it.
And I can live with that knowledge of the finality and inevitability of death.
It is real for me, as surely as day follows night follows day, that one day I will be no more.
And as reality, I prefer it to the stories I used to live with.
The story of a creator who consigns people to eternal torment for following the wrong path, for foolishness, for silly human pride and weaknesses that we all posses. Who listens to the wailing and gnashing of teeth, but who does not respond for all eternity.
Thinking this through and saying it out loud makes me unspeakably sad, because this is not how I used to see the Lord, the one who was my Lord, my God, my all.
But my vision has altered and there is no way back.
There is no substance now in the things I once hoped for and no evidence of things unseen.
Just me and reality going forward, till I get as far as I can go.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
"And build a Hell in Heaven's despite."
So, mission accomplished.
Or so I should feel.
But as I originally thought, there are no winners in this, only losers.
The victorious side full of guilt that the other side must now be suffering.
And I feel like a worm, though I know the way I went was right and true and the only way I could have gone.
And tomorrow now comes into view, impossible scenario, with no answer and no solution.
Different modes have played out in my head, if I say, if I do, if I suggest...
But finally control is not mine and I have no answer, nothing to say or do, no suggestions that will undo an horrific past and a nightmare present.
I can try and offer a little balm, but on the open sore that is her soul, what good will it do?
Love was misused
And no pill, no potion, no magic words or therapy, no CBT, no analysis can give sufficient love to ever overcome that memory of the misuse.
The CLOD & the PEBBLE
William Blake
Love seeketh not Itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care;
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hells despair.
So sang a little Clod of Clay,
Trodden with the cattles feet:
But a Pebble of the brook,
Warbled out these metres meet.
Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to Its delight:
Joys in anothers loss of ease,
And builds a Hell in Heavens despite.
Or so I should feel.
But as I originally thought, there are no winners in this, only losers.
The victorious side full of guilt that the other side must now be suffering.
And I feel like a worm, though I know the way I went was right and true and the only way I could have gone.
And tomorrow now comes into view, impossible scenario, with no answer and no solution.
Different modes have played out in my head, if I say, if I do, if I suggest...
But finally control is not mine and I have no answer, nothing to say or do, no suggestions that will undo an horrific past and a nightmare present.
I can try and offer a little balm, but on the open sore that is her soul, what good will it do?
Love was misused
And no pill, no potion, no magic words or therapy, no CBT, no analysis can give sufficient love to ever overcome that memory of the misuse.
The CLOD & the PEBBLE
William Blake
Love seeketh not Itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care;
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hells despair.
So sang a little Clod of Clay,
Trodden with the cattles feet:
But a Pebble of the brook,
Warbled out these metres meet.
Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to Its delight:
Joys in anothers loss of ease,
And builds a Hell in Heavens despite.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Try to stay calm and controlled, now...
I'm doing my best.
When sometimes something happens that appears to be unjust, but you only have the one side, it is easy to go like a bull at a gate and charge and end up not helping.
So I am trying to stay calm and in control, gritting my teeth when I see the triggers and not respond.
I've done the right thing up to now and will wait a couple of days to see if anything happens, letting it all flow gently over me.
The heck I am!!
The flow is surging over me like a storm crashing on the rocks, alternating anger and fury with moments of waiting, which makes being calm and collected all the more difficult.
And I can see why this is a hard decision to take from one sense, but my instinct, which I trust, tells me something is not right and I will not rest until I can at least get others to see that.
But whatever happens, someone will get hurt, of that there is no doubt...
:-(
And it focuses me onto other issues that I too need to address, that run too deep to think of now, too close to the bone to open and explore.
Calm and collected, one thing at a time.
Do not risk losing more, too much has been lost already.
So, as I muse on life I think I need to muse on something that is food for my spirit.
To muse that love is enough, despite all that goes on around, to overcome the crashing of the waves on the rocks, the uncertainty of what is right or wrong, the waiting and the tension.
My hand will not tremble, nor my feet falter from this path...
Love is enough
by William Morris
Love is enough: though the World be a-waning,
And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining,
Though the sky be too dark for dim eyes to discover
The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder,
Though the hills be held shadows, and the sea a dark wonder,
And this day draw a veil over all deeds pass'd over,
Yet their hands shall not tremble, their feet shall not falter;
The void shall not weary, the fear shall not alter
These lips and these eyes of the loved and the lover.
When sometimes something happens that appears to be unjust, but you only have the one side, it is easy to go like a bull at a gate and charge and end up not helping.
So I am trying to stay calm and in control, gritting my teeth when I see the triggers and not respond.
I've done the right thing up to now and will wait a couple of days to see if anything happens, letting it all flow gently over me.
The heck I am!!
The flow is surging over me like a storm crashing on the rocks, alternating anger and fury with moments of waiting, which makes being calm and collected all the more difficult.
And I can see why this is a hard decision to take from one sense, but my instinct, which I trust, tells me something is not right and I will not rest until I can at least get others to see that.
But whatever happens, someone will get hurt, of that there is no doubt...
:-(
And it focuses me onto other issues that I too need to address, that run too deep to think of now, too close to the bone to open and explore.
Calm and collected, one thing at a time.
Do not risk losing more, too much has been lost already.
So, as I muse on life I think I need to muse on something that is food for my spirit.
To muse that love is enough, despite all that goes on around, to overcome the crashing of the waves on the rocks, the uncertainty of what is right or wrong, the waiting and the tension.
My hand will not tremble, nor my feet falter from this path...
Love is enough
by William Morris
Love is enough: though the World be a-waning,
And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining,
Though the sky be too dark for dim eyes to discover
The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder,
Though the hills be held shadows, and the sea a dark wonder,
And this day draw a veil over all deeds pass'd over,
Yet their hands shall not tremble, their feet shall not falter;
The void shall not weary, the fear shall not alter
These lips and these eyes of the loved and the lover.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Love's the sweetest thing...
Two contrasting women
Both bearing the same name
Sitting, talking, crying, thinking
Of things past and present, of loves and losts
Of aches in the heart and in the mind
I sit and absorb and reflect and wish the majic was majic indeed
To spread and make light the burden
Not within my power
Nor in my basket of potions and pills
No heartease, no memory spell
To remove the dark side of life and replace it with the light
All I can do is all that I do
Listen, reflect, ease where we can
Hold when needed, push when stuck
Absorb the rage, the hate, the anger
With a wry smile and a shared tear
With hope that riding the waves with them will work
And that none of us will fall
before the end is reached
And that the hatred shown past
will be wiped out
by the love shown now
and that finally
all may be well
and all may be well,
and all manner of things may be well.
Sleep sweetly my friends....
Both bearing the same name
Sitting, talking, crying, thinking
Of things past and present, of loves and losts
Of aches in the heart and in the mind
I sit and absorb and reflect and wish the majic was majic indeed
To spread and make light the burden
Not within my power
Nor in my basket of potions and pills
No heartease, no memory spell
To remove the dark side of life and replace it with the light
All I can do is all that I do
Listen, reflect, ease where we can
Hold when needed, push when stuck
Absorb the rage, the hate, the anger
With a wry smile and a shared tear
With hope that riding the waves with them will work
And that none of us will fall
before the end is reached
And that the hatred shown past
will be wiped out
by the love shown now
and that finally
all may be well
and all may be well,
and all manner of things may be well.
Sleep sweetly my friends....
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Post from Nov last year elsewhere:
But the thread snapped...
And today I so wish that I had gone away and stayed away.
Because this abyss is not where I ever wanted to be
But now I'm here, I'm trying to make the most of it.
The sheer walls either side make it somewhat hard to climb out, but I can see a way forward and I can see a chink of light.
And I have kept walking towards it and the light is getting stronger.
I can't verbalise it all very well, but I think I can live it.
Well, some of it...
Kindness, compassion, empathy and care seem to be the motto
They can defeat much, not all.
Cannot defeat the worst that humankind can do to each other, but they can gently brush the edges of the horror and make things a little more bearable.
Perhaps bearable enough not to give up the fight.
My hope...
Things I need to do...
Awake all night in pain
I must go to the doctors next week!
My friends have all confidently and independently decided it's a gastric
ulcer and it's certainly not all in the mind, so I better go and get it sorted.
I can't cope with the lack of sleep any longer!
Also in one of those awful hanging on by a thread state of minds.
Trying to stay well away from topics that may just tip me over, because
I've been at the end of my tether before but never discovered what happens when
the tether runs out..
Do you plunge screaming into the abyss?
Because that's what I forsee and I don't want that at all
Hence the need to avoid certain discourses
But too much is going on in my head (lack of sleep is not good) and the
thread is getting thinner and thinner
And perhaps confronting the problems might put them to bed forever, instead
of snapping the thread
Perhaps
Help...
But the thread snapped...
And today I so wish that I had gone away and stayed away.
Because this abyss is not where I ever wanted to be
But now I'm here, I'm trying to make the most of it.
The sheer walls either side make it somewhat hard to climb out, but I can see a way forward and I can see a chink of light.
And I have kept walking towards it and the light is getting stronger.
I can't verbalise it all very well, but I think I can live it.
Well, some of it...
Kindness, compassion, empathy and care seem to be the motto
They can defeat much, not all.
Cannot defeat the worst that humankind can do to each other, but they can gently brush the edges of the horror and make things a little more bearable.
Perhaps bearable enough not to give up the fight.
My hope...
Friday, June 09, 2006
New York seems a distant dream...
Matt is lying on my bed listening to the Waterboys as we chat.
NYC seems a distant dream and we both wish we were back there, probably for different reasons!
"So peaceful!" says Matt- I know he is thinking of lying in Central Park under the trees in the shade with a gentle breeze cooling us off as he reads his books and birds scatter around us...
Me, I want to see all those things I couldn't with him- the museums, the art.
Stand in front of a beautiful Madonna and child, that still hold me, still move me, despite what I now believe.
Gaze in awe at the love of mother for child frozen through time on a canvas and wonder why this child has won so many hearts, so many lives over the years.
And think of the words that child was reported to have said, his acts that spoke louder than words.
When he bent to the ground, the crowd standing round expecting condemnation, a good stoning, he wrote instead in the sand.
What did he write?
Perhaps the name of each, and their hidden sins, crimes of the heart known only to each one.
Sins laid bare, for all to see, in the light.
And she who was stood there, exposed, scarlet letter on her chest, she was spared and forgiven.
Go and sin no more...
But forget not your sin, for it is part of who you were
And being forgiven, forgive much and understand much, so that others might too begin to see...
The message still resonates within...
NYC seems a distant dream and we both wish we were back there, probably for different reasons!
"So peaceful!" says Matt- I know he is thinking of lying in Central Park under the trees in the shade with a gentle breeze cooling us off as he reads his books and birds scatter around us...
Me, I want to see all those things I couldn't with him- the museums, the art.
Stand in front of a beautiful Madonna and child, that still hold me, still move me, despite what I now believe.
Gaze in awe at the love of mother for child frozen through time on a canvas and wonder why this child has won so many hearts, so many lives over the years.
And think of the words that child was reported to have said, his acts that spoke louder than words.
When he bent to the ground, the crowd standing round expecting condemnation, a good stoning, he wrote instead in the sand.
What did he write?
Perhaps the name of each, and their hidden sins, crimes of the heart known only to each one.
Sins laid bare, for all to see, in the light.
And she who was stood there, exposed, scarlet letter on her chest, she was spared and forgiven.
Go and sin no more...
But forget not your sin, for it is part of who you were
And being forgiven, forgive much and understand much, so that others might too begin to see...
The message still resonates within...
Saturday, June 03, 2006
Friendship
BEING YOUR FRIEND
Being your friend, I do not care, not I,
How gods or men may wrong me, beat me down;
Your word's sufficient star to travel by,
I count your quiet praise sufficient crown.
Being your friend, I do not covet gold,
Save for a royal gift to give you pleasure;
To sit with you, and have your hand to hold,
Is wealth, I think, surpassing minted treasure.
Being your friend, I only covet art,
A white pure flame to search me as I trace
In crooked letters from a throbbing heart
The hymn to beauty written on your face.
— John Masefield (slightly
adapted into the second person)
I found that at jfk in a book of poetry that I bought
Beautiful and expresses how I feel about the many friends I am so fortunate to have, in both virtual and real life world. The beauty and love of my friends is something that powers me on when days become difficult and burdensome: the encouragement of my mad but loving co-workers, the shared joy found in small miracles with T with my Lourdes friends, the empathy and laughter of friends from the net and so many others, some old and longstanding, some new but deep in my heart already.
In friends I am rich indeed!
Thank you all of you from the bottom of my heart...
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
nyc
My bodyclock is totally gone! I woke at 3am here, bright as a button, while Matt snored peacefully. Our time here is gentle and relaxed, wandering in Central Park while watching sparrows peck at our feet, with museums and sights intersperesed at a gentle pace.
And manga- Matt found a bookshop stuffed full and is determined to fill his case.
Every now and then we speak of Tom.
I had not realised how much Matt felt pressurised by him, how much he hated being always at Tom's beck and call. How much, deep down, I felt that way too. We sat, the first night, opposite each other, sharing thoughts and feelings about it and looking for ways to go forward, so that we all have more space to breathe in a house that at times feels like a fortress inside, with people barricading themselves away to protect their fragile hearts. We sit, Matt in his room, me in mine, dad downstairs, hiding from the whirlwind that Tom can become, from the hours of unrelentless barrage of words and anger.
There has to be a better way...
I promised Matt to look with him, while realising one thing that we cannot do
Change Tom..
Would I have him any other way?
I would not ask that question, it is an impossibility, so best not considered. I love him, however wearing he can be and I want what is best for us all...
So time to think as we continue here and time to go and wake Matt up, ready for the day!
And manga- Matt found a bookshop stuffed full and is determined to fill his case.
Every now and then we speak of Tom.
I had not realised how much Matt felt pressurised by him, how much he hated being always at Tom's beck and call. How much, deep down, I felt that way too. We sat, the first night, opposite each other, sharing thoughts and feelings about it and looking for ways to go forward, so that we all have more space to breathe in a house that at times feels like a fortress inside, with people barricading themselves away to protect their fragile hearts. We sit, Matt in his room, me in mine, dad downstairs, hiding from the whirlwind that Tom can become, from the hours of unrelentless barrage of words and anger.
There has to be a better way...
I promised Matt to look with him, while realising one thing that we cannot do
Change Tom..
Would I have him any other way?
I would not ask that question, it is an impossibility, so best not considered. I love him, however wearing he can be and I want what is best for us all...
So time to think as we continue here and time to go and wake Matt up, ready for the day!
Friday, May 26, 2006
All my bags are packed...
...just got to get through today in work, then it's off to Heathrow tonight and nyc tomorrow.
Really nervous now, taking Matt so far away.
Usual separation anxiety!
But at least Tom's skin is a little better, although they've referred him to a specialist for his face, which is terrible still...
And when I return, it's another long hard slog till the next break, in August.
I feel I'm leaping from break to break at the moment and it helps...
Mustn't leave such a long gap next time.
So nyc- during a public holiday
Not my most inspired decision!
Let's hope all goes better than my last two trips.......
See you soon!
Really nervous now, taking Matt so far away.
Usual separation anxiety!
But at least Tom's skin is a little better, although they've referred him to a specialist for his face, which is terrible still...
And when I return, it's another long hard slog till the next break, in August.
I feel I'm leaping from break to break at the moment and it helps...
Mustn't leave such a long gap next time.
So nyc- during a public holiday
Not my most inspired decision!
Let's hope all goes better than my last two trips.......
See you soon!
Monday, May 22, 2006
When I am an old woman..
..I shall wear purple
With a red hat that doesn't go and doesn't suit me
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves..."
(Warning by Jenny Joseph.)
I have an awful feeling I'm already at this stage.
Or maybe I have always been an old woman.
My dress sense would have made Michael Foot look positively elegant
My eye for colour strange in the extreme and my ability to do my hair reflected in the fact that I can never let it grow beyond an inch or so.
So here I am, short, fat and scatty, losing my glasses and watch and passport
And vague in the extreme...
("What time are we flying?"- "Um...sometime Saturday morning..)
I wonder Mikey has hung on to me as long as he has, he certainly has a well worn look of a man whose patience has been sorely tried.
Even moreso now I have performed this ultimate betrayal of losing the thing that once pulled us so close together...
I still regret it on many levels, especially on this human relationship one.
He still just smiles sweetly at me and tells me I will get my faith back, of that he has no doubt.
My protestations that I am equally sure of where I am now are met with typical Mikey stubborness...
But life goes on. Matt has failed once more in cookery to produce anything edible and the dog rejoiced as it meant she had a whole load of salmon. The cat seemed content too. Tom's skin has improved with all the hard work of creams four times daily and hopefully we'll continue to keep it clear. And job share partner has her interview tomorrow and I suspect will get the job, which will leave me up the creek without a paddle...
So as well as a watch, my glasses and the passport, I'll be looking for a paddle too...
And the happenings at CF continue to entertain, stimulate and produce deep sorrow. I am trying so hard just to let the feelings ebb and flow, take them as inevitable parts of the loss of my place in the society I once inhabited.
And with each rush of feelings, my ability to let myself feel the pain is growing. Instead of fighting it or distracting, I sit and hurt until it goes.
Which it does.
And feel for those whose hurt does not go and whose pain remains.
Shadows in the past become more ghostly and less in their ability to torment and frighten...
Out of every difficult situation, a chance to grow occurs.
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Hurting...
I like to stand back sometimes and be an outside observer on the innermost turmoil that rushes round inside.
And I'm trying to do this now, hence the post.
I'm hurting, hurting so badly at this moment.
Tears are falling and it's all incredibly stupid and pathetic and juvenile.
But sometimes the trivial things in life awake paths that travel deep inside, to hidden areas, where only I can go and where only I see.
Things I cannot and will not share with anyone.
Memories from the past echo into the present and taunt and torture.
But I take a step back and look from a distance and realise I must allow myself to hurt.
Like a boil once more, it grows and then it bursts.
And in that painful eruption, the poison comes out and the hurt goes away.
And after the storm, the eruption, the shedding of the poison, the quiet and the peace returns.
To be part of a group is a wonderful thing, to feel a member, to belong
But I cannot be that any longer, I have to face the fact that it has gone.
And stand here alone on my own two feet...
And face reality, not a virtual world of intrigue and conspiracies
and veiled insults and contempt
So let the hurt grow and burst and let the poison out
Then let the goodness in to take its place
See and feel the goodness that is there
That is reality
Even in a virtual world
Then you can face the future, bloodied but unbowed....
The life that I have is all that I have,
The life that I have is yours.
The love that I have of the life that I have,
Is yours and yours and yours.
A sleep I shall have,
A rest I shall have,
Yet death will be but a pause,
For the peace of my years in the long green grass,
Will be yours and yours and yours.
And I'm trying to do this now, hence the post.
I'm hurting, hurting so badly at this moment.
Tears are falling and it's all incredibly stupid and pathetic and juvenile.
But sometimes the trivial things in life awake paths that travel deep inside, to hidden areas, where only I can go and where only I see.
Things I cannot and will not share with anyone.
Memories from the past echo into the present and taunt and torture.
But I take a step back and look from a distance and realise I must allow myself to hurt.
Like a boil once more, it grows and then it bursts.
And in that painful eruption, the poison comes out and the hurt goes away.
And after the storm, the eruption, the shedding of the poison, the quiet and the peace returns.
To be part of a group is a wonderful thing, to feel a member, to belong
But I cannot be that any longer, I have to face the fact that it has gone.
And stand here alone on my own two feet...
And face reality, not a virtual world of intrigue and conspiracies
and veiled insults and contempt
So let the hurt grow and burst and let the poison out
Then let the goodness in to take its place
See and feel the goodness that is there
That is reality
Even in a virtual world
Then you can face the future, bloodied but unbowed....
The life that I have is all that I have,
The life that I have is yours.
The love that I have of the life that I have,
Is yours and yours and yours.
A sleep I shall have,
A rest I shall have,
Yet death will be but a pause,
For the peace of my years in the long green grass,
Will be yours and yours and yours.
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