Category: Uncategorized

It’s been a year!

A lot’s been learned about the nature of people and their passions, and also their poison. Together with a lot of you, we had a great ‘Goodbye to 2016’ in November. Thanks to all again, true friends are people that are just there sharing the same old shift! Hopefully, we can all have some jolly good highs to counteract the inevitable golly jood lows… we’re in this together in the end.

People, sharing the same stuff, perhaps that what’s it’s about. The old idea of community, where people commune together “to live, together, sharing ‘stuff’ and responsibilities…”  Where people really commune-icate; share or exchange information, news, or ideas…

Community? That’s everyone we share space with (both real & cyber). I meet a good few people daily on my bike commute, and we say ‘hi’ and pass the time of day. To name two; there’s the old lady with her two collie dogs, who says hi with a hearty smile every morning, and the quite Irish guy pushing(?) his bike who says ‘morning’ usually with just a nod. I meet a big bunch of ‘teachers’ in my role of ‘repro guy’ at school, again it’s good, in a relatively neutral space, to ‘pass the time of day’. But also, it’s the people we take for granted that we share stuff with routinely – we are alive now, we only breathe now, make the most of now, make the most of the time of day…  “Time present and time past, Are both perhaps present in time future, And time future contained in time past”

“Pass the time of day”? It’s hard to look outside of our perspective, outside of our habitual field of view, outside of our routine. I am the worst being an addict to routine – When I have taken the car to work (bike in for a service), my comfortable habit is broken and the day is often more disjunctive. When I need to do something that interrupts my plans it’s frustrating. But alas we live with our constructs around us, making us feel comfortable in our role, making us who we are, or who we think we are!

Personally, I find that the real “time of day” might often be swamped in thoughts of where I am supposed to be, what I need to do… what have I forgotten, busy, busy, next, next, tomorrow, what if… but hey! Stop… pause, breathe, relax, smile… the time of day is right now. It’s not so easy but when we really pause, breathe, relax, smile, we can be found in the now… your breath is what makes you you, your spirit is what makes you you, where your treasure is there is your heart also.

And so, next time we have a chance to ‘pass the time of day’, let’s share it!  No bells, no whistles, no pretense, no prejudice, no fear, less me and more of you… As I say, it’s not easy, but perhaps it is simple. Easier said than done?

Anyway, we live and learn.

Happy Christmas and a Big Best New Year to you…

Not such an easy task…    (an update on a previous post)

I posted recently that after more than 5 years on reduced rigging, I am now again finally trying a fuller set of sails.

For more than 5 years Citalopram has helped take the winds out of my sails enabling a little more control. Circumstances have changed and a lot is being learned. The Doc agreed, and over two weeks, I slowly withdrew from Citalopram.

But the jump from being relatively in control, with reduced rigging, to sailing with a full set of sails is initially proving not such an easy task.

Stuff’s so vibrant, the stone walls, the sunrise, the colours, and sounds. The words from people, the longing, the tired eyes, hopes, fears, expectations. Music and rhyme juxtaposed with mundane habitual routine. It all seems so vibrant and resonates like bells, through consonance and dissonance, polyphonic messages… noise…  

Raw emotional, sensory, cerebral overload. I am hopeful that I will settle into a rhythm but I have been surprised by the hard to control emotion that I am experiencing.

My senses and brain once again resonate with the angst of the futile human condition. So many people really struggling with war, hunger, poverty, abuse, neglect that need real help. Again I struggle to reconcile our society, where poverty and neglect sit beside greed and selfishness.

The polished driver passes the beaten bus queue, driving a machine that costs more than the house that the pedestrian rents. I fear that inside the western consumer is a loving heart smothered and now detached by a toxic addictive culture. Misplaced ambition and foolish one-upmanship leaves me cold. My emotions boom in desperation and fear.

Conversely, I am brought to tears of joy by the bright lights and fanfare of the local dance school’s annual show. Such raw dedication, real people lovingly giving themselves in a common community of hope. Innocence, learning, proud performers, simply sharing what they love, sequins, strobes, smiles… and dance. Infants beam and grandparents sigh. Dance, more than movement, an essence of what we might be. Yes culturally loaded, but essentially human.

So I am back to sunbathing in the rain. But, I will do my best to go without the drugs.

The ship is a mighty vessel, the water is wide, but I need to trim the sail and remember, to just feel for the breath. There will be gusts and storms, there will be calm and glorious cleansing breeze, there will be doldrum, there will be icebergs. As I say, I believe there will also be albatross.

I am not finding it easy, but I will persevere; captain.

Back with a fuller set of sails.

I have hesitated to post this but here it is for the journal…

After more than 5 years on reduced rigging, I am now again finally trying a fuller set of sails.

Due to a mixture of poor seniority, poor conditions, poor moral, and my failure to see away from the ship, the demands of sailing with a full set of sails left me breathless and were too much for me. With help from true friends, I took steps to de-rig. Over a period of time, Citalopram took the winds out of my sails enabling a little more control.

Earlier this year the foundering ship sank and left it’s crew to find their own way to shore.

Over a few years, and with Citalopram’s help, I have been able to slowly de-rig, deduce, defocus…  

After the ship was left to founder, and after much contemplation, cbt, nlp, mindfulness, good friends and the love from a great wife, I’ve now rerigged, reduced, and refocused…

With winds back in my sails, I have recently, after 5 years, finished with Citalopram.

I am still far from knowing what’s around the corner. However, the many simple yet transformative things I have been fortunate to discover in the ports I have visited over the last few years, have been treasurable.

Small things, words, glances, smiles, and truths… As sure as breath follows breath, we can try to be less mindless and more aware. More present, awake, attentive, non-judgemental. Less ego, more soul.

The essence of what we are, and what we find, can drive our sails. We need not hoist competing, controlling and comparing sails, but bend to the breath we find.

Contemplate winds of change. Commune rather than compare… through simple practices, we can move beyond competition, closer towards a truer way, with unknown depths and great potential.

There will be storms, there will be calm, there will be doldrum, there will be icebergs, but there’s also the albatross.

So with a fuller set of sails, I wait for new winds as sure as breath follows breath.

Thanks.

I have just finished reading another good book. I have closed it and put it back on the public library shelf.

I mentioned to another reader that it’s like having an invigorating sail and then passing a promised coastal headland only to find unsettled autumnal weather and unknown deep ocean ahead, and it’s getting dark…

I’ve been reading about the mediocrity and escapism that we feed on between our ego’s competing, controlling and comparing. Our ego builds a shell around the soul…
The rhythm of life has a powerful beat, but habitual rhythms can be enchanting, comforting, familiar… but soulless…
The soulless sparkle of riches, the promise of glitter, of better, of whiter, greener, brighter, fresher…

Despite the distant clouds, inside us, the quiet depth of our soul can be a place of huge promise… our breath… continues an inspiring rhythm of incubation, our soul can indeed be a place of plantation and growth.
The more we become accustomed to the depth of our soul, the more we find ourselves at home within it.
I was of course born in the Autumn.

Happy Birthday me.