it's the thought that counts

I remember a lecturer saying "reputation counts for nothing, and you don't have to take my word for that, one of the leading experts says the same thing"
it runs along similar lines to "take my advice, don't listen to what anyone says" as something that doesn't make sense as soon as you examine it.
these days I find myself trying to practise it, give equal merit to the thoughts of people regardless of their previous efforts
"everyone has one novel in them Baldrick"

so I have to convey a lapse, I recently discovered a book called "Simply Christian". although not arranged in alphabetical order I recognised the author's name so clutched at it cheerfully. the reason I was reminded of this particular lecture is that almost immediately I leafed through for the "about the author" bit, which is noticeably absent. Instead of a list of qualifications and reasons why this person is eminently suitable to produce this work there is a simple dedication to give a grounding in Christian understanding. I felt suddenly humbled, I steer a course to the value that each of us has our own understanding of the world which is equally valid given the confidence to express it, that together we can pool our understanding to create something much more far-reaching, and yet I had fallen into the trap of reputation.

I would recommend to anyone that they read the book as the thoughts of a fellow Christian, a traveller on the spiritual journey , and not look for clues to the author's qualifications, nor presume his understanding superior to our own. But I discovered the book because I was aware of them, not recommended so much as mentioned in conversation, and perhaps I was meant to.

What on Earth can that mean?

On Demand

I'm rescheduling.
It's all the rage, the latest freedom. There's the tv advert telling me I can watch yesterday's tv today, today's tv tomorrow, download it as it's convenient, pause live programmes to suit my timetable.
Entertainment on demand, is it a new thing? At the moment I'm reading two books on demand, "Simply Christian" and "Never Let Me Go", and not making much progress with either. In fact, I'm paused more often than I'm played right now. I'm finding it hard work, and not making time for them. It's not that the time doesn't exist, just I'm finding other things to fill it. I have the freedom to be busy in some other way.
Maybe on demand isn't the way forward for me as a person, sometimes there is only one opportunity, and life can't be paused because you can't make the time for it, you just need to flow with it and enjoy the ride. I have the freedom to refuse to conform to time consumerism, to do things when it is appropriate, and not simply when it is convenient.
"your will, not mine"

waiting games

My early birthday present is dragging its feet.
I'm waiting for a letter to say I'm approved of, "a good egg" or "one of us", I'm not sure whether or not that's the same thing.
I'm told it's a formality, the person signing the letter doesn't know me, they can't know me, and what is there to know about me that wouldn't meet with their approval? Would I sign it myself, I don't know until I've read what it says. I don't know if the people who have asked for it would sign it, and I don't like to ask.

I'm happy, I could be happier, but then so could everyone. We could always do with a little more, more money, more security, more love, just to cover unexpected difficulties. What kind of unexpected difficulty are you expecting?

I don't know where my journey's leading, I get the feeling if I did know I'd want to be there sooner, and once I get there I'd have nowhere left to go. What do you do when you've finished journeying? So I'm pausing happily, looking back at where I've come from, not at where I might be going to, and glad to be where I am.

a vers de societe

I find myself thinking about this poem by Philip Larkin;
"my wife and I have asked a crowd of craps
to come and waste their time and ours, perhaps
you'd care to join us?"

as I read the invitation in my hand my first instinct is the same as the poet's "in a pig's arse, friend", I hardly know anyone, it's inconvenient, it's too much effort.

Two pieces of news change my decision, a friend is getting married, another friend's marriage has ended. The friend whose marriage is over is to be best man at the wedding, and my counsel is sought.

Unlike the poem, this thought goes beyond the decision to accept the invitation, and I hope the poet found his experience at the party as rewarding. Going beyond the labels of marriage, divorce, success, failure, I found one couple starting out on a journey together, and one couple starting to journey separately. A couple who were socially confident and adept but have not made a successful marriage, a couple who were socially nervous, but who are great for each other. More specifically a friend who worked immensely hard to appear natural with great success, and a friend naturally withdrawn and quiet. One of them has found a bride with whom he may discover the happiness of loving commitment, the other has come to find his marriage unfulfilling to both parties. Moving away from the simplistic "you said 'til death do us part, so live with it" I offer the suggestion that this marriage made neither of them happy, and in time both of them will find happiness elsewhere.

At the back of my mind one question sits unanswered, "Which of these two friends am I more like? And much more importantly, which have I been trying to be more like?"

"Dear Warlock-Williams, why of course..

artist's impression

For some reason, I always take it as a compliment to receive an insult.
It's as if I feel valued they've gone to the trouble.
A friend at work used to come out with some classics, someone asked me how I put up with him, I said I'd heard worse than he could imagine, so anything he came out with wasn't going to bother me. A particular favourite was to be likened to Dorian Gray, "I bet you've got a portrait up in the attic that's horrible and depraved, that's how you manage to look so young and innocent", frankly that seemed quite a compliment, as if anything I'd have said the reverse was true.
However, now I come to think of it, it's the picture I see in the mirror, not me, the victim of other people's intransigence, intolerance, selfishness, never my own fault. The me that is behind the picture is quite different.
Another friend, who has learned to stand a bit further away and precis statements with "you're not going to want to hear this.." once caught me in a self-pitying mode along the lines of "was it something I got all wrong? Or was it just not meant to be?", "Which would you prefer?", no answer to that.
I'd been going down the route of apologetics, it wasn't really my fault, I'm no worse than anyone else (or no better), it's one of those things, and I seem to be travelling faster and faster towards somewhere I don't want to be. It's hard to feel loved when you feel unloveable, and to believe you are loveable you need to feel loved. I can't feel loved when I'm hiding behind the picture, so the first step is to come out of its shadow.
"people who are well do not need a doctor, only those who are sick"

Why do I need a doctor, I am no more sick than anyone? And yet I'm scared of being judged, scared of not being good enough. Weeks, months, years pass and then I take the first step. It's an effort at first, I don't belong and I feel like I'm out of place. I imagine no-one else can have felt so low, I don't want to be a part of something for fear of it being tainted by me. Gradually that fades, but I keep hold of an abstract design to ward off the danger of painting another portrait once more.

Memories I Keep Close To Me

There are things that are always happening.
Rather than confined to dusty books on dusty shelves, they are at the very front of our minds, never letting go. We are defined by them, and we ourselves define them as happy memories, or as painful ones. We are not complete without them, but must keep them under control, never allowing them to become free.

"What's the first thing you remember?"
"The first thing that comes into my head, you mean?"
"What's the first thing after all the things you've forgotten?"
(Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead)

I remember so many things, but which is the first? And who cares to think of all the things they've forgotten? Surely we'd remember them if they were important, and if we don't, then we really want to pretend they were never really that important to us. Things which are responsible for us forgetting them, "I never really loved you anyway", they can't have left much of an impression.

We all remember the first person who went above-and-beyond-the-call because of us. The first person who said "I believe in you". I'd like to think I remember all of them, because believing in someone shows an amazing level of trust, I don't know if I can do it, not really do it. I remember the first time a teacher described my work as "Brilliant", the first time someone said "you are wise beyond your years", or at least I think I do.

I also remember the first time I felt big-headed, the first time I felt I didn't need anyone, the first time I felt it all came easily, and that's when I found out none of that was true, because you only feel that once you've come out of the world of ego. I'd lost someone who had taught me a lot, and yet it had come so easily that I never knew how much more there was to learn, or how quickly it could all be forgotten, de-prioritised, discarded, because it didn't fit with how I expected it to be.

I remember a country farmhouse, the kitchen at its heart, a television its eyes and ears, watching and listening to the world from a safe distance, my thoughts locked away from scrutiny.
I remember a thunderstorm, lights on the motorway, a death in the family, another lesson half-learned, academic studies of inconsequential trivia taking precedence, when I could have learned how to be a man, I was learning about rulers and river deltas.

I remember the day my mother left, I mean the day she had no reason to stay any more, and I remember the day I lost my gentle giant of a grandad. And I remember the world caving in when I lost my grandmother

I remember someone saying "Don't be so hard on yourself", and I remember reading "God doesn't blame you", and I remember choosing that these things were not the things that broke me as a person, but the things that rebuilt me. They are the building blocks of the person I can become.