The ministry of friends

As the wooden staves of a cooper’s barrel

are held together by bands of metal,

so the broken staves of my life

have been held together by the ministry of friends.

Goodbye my friend…

This is my car.

I love my car.

But its just a car right? Not to me. This car has been my stardust, sparkle-blue travel companion for 12 years. The stories it could tell of family and friendships and the deep, meaningful conversations had; of extraordinarily loud singalongs; of tearful getaways; of muddy and dusty fields and festivals; of over-packed long haul journeys and late night drives home.

My silent servant, always ready and waiting – even if in the past couple of years it has not always been as able – to whisk me off and away on adventures, errands and commutes. Constant and faithful, comforting and warm (or cool in the Summer), I have relied on this hatchback helpmate. Even when I have mistreated it, rushed it around too fast, bumped it into kerbs and left empty packets of crisps and brioche rolls all over the floor, it has always been there for me.

Today I had it valeted and after months of cleanly neglect it is now looking resplendent in the blistering sunshine; its twinkly star-shimmer paint glinting spectacularly. It looks lovely, as if it is all dressed up for a special occasion.

There is however, no wedding or party or festival to go to. Having just bought a new car,  this one is being replaced and I find that my heart is hurting.

I wish I could let it know how much I appreciate all it has done for me, for keeping me company and safe for over a decade. I dread leaving it behind and I worry about its feelings of rejection and loss.

Isn’t that silly? Isn’t that ridiculous?

Oh we never know where life will take us
I know it’s just a ride on the wheel.
And we never know when death will shake us
And we wonder how it will feel.

So goodbye my friend
I know I’ll never see you again
But the time together through all the years
Will take away these tears

It’s OK now…
Goodbye my friend

                                        Linda Rondstat and Aaron Neville

I’m not feeling quite right

One thing I have been doing regularly during this lockdown is adding my data to the Covid19 Symptom Tracker App. Each day I log in and the app politely asked me if I have had a Covid19 test, and then asked if I am feeling physically normal or if I am not feeling quite right.

Every day I have clicked ‘I am feeling physically normal’, pleased that I am supporting the effort to track and analyse the data about the spread of this virus in the hopes that soon (please, soon) some further advances in treatment and especially vaccine will be made.

Today I opened the app as usual. The choice was the same do I feel physically normal today or am I not feeling quite right.

Pause.

I am not feeling quite right.

I click that.

No, I do not have a temperature, no I do not have the shivers, no I do not have a fever, no  I do not have a sore throat or a persistent cough.

There is a button that asks for other symptoms.

Pause.

My heart is broken. Can I write that?

Pause.

I click ‘I feel physically normal’.

Sleepless in Brighton…

So it’s 2.05am and I can’t sleep. It’s not that I’m not tired; I am tired, so tired but my washing machine brain won’t stop the spin cycle of twisting and whirling thoughts splashing around my head. I feel my heart fluttering faster through the side of my rib cage and I can’t tame it or slow it down.
Is it because I stayed awake too long and should have tried to sleep earlier when it was a more sensible time? Was is because I have had a lovely busy day virtually meeting up with family and friends? Is it that I miss my boyfriend? Is it that I have work to plan for and do this week? Is it the nagging sense of unease that we all have in this uncertain time?
Probably yes, all of the above.
Admitting this doesn’t stop the sleeplessness or the frustration that comes with it. So what to do? Well, I can play around with my facebook profile a bit, I can watch some istagram live videos, I could read a few more chapters of a book and all other manner of distracting activities. Perhaps I should get up and do some work, tidy a cupboard or organise some filing?

I don’t think I have an answer for now except that I am writing this down to remind me that this is happening, that sometimes the struggleS we face are not just with the physical circumstances but with the relentless spikey and gnarly thoughts in our mind that can floor us, frustrate us and keep us awake at night. 
Rather like those annoying zippy flies that fizz around your ear in the dark, I want to catch or flick these spin cycle thoughts away.

The apostle Paul interestingly says something similar “ we take captive every thought and make it obedient to Christ”: a deliberate aggressive not passive action. To stop the thoughts in their tracks, to switch off the spin cycle and hand these thoughts over to Christ in prayer. 

But then what?

Paul continues elsewhere to say: “…whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is as excellent or praiseworthy — think about such things”. This also is a deliberate act, filling the space where the other thoughts were. A good podcast or audio book, a focus on marvellous memories and moments, maybe even tidying that cupboard or filing those papers or just a chat with God could all be ways to fill my washing machine brain space. 

But then what?

”…the God of peace will be with you”. 

Ah, peace. For the spin cycle to halt and the noise and commotion of tangled and jarring thoughts to hush. To be accompanied in the peace by the God of peace Himself. What a relief. 
Its not easy, it may not work immediately and I may still be awake in a couple of hours but I am going to give it a go! 

Slipping off the bed…

So this is Edward Bear, he is as old as I am as he was given to me when I was born and he has been with me ever since. He is threadbare (excuse the pun) and has been lovingly repaired by mum countless times; his paws, his mouth and nose and most recently he has even needed is head sewn back on! He is a constant presence in my bedroom now and has been all through my life.

When I was young and living at home with my family, I had a small but perfectly formed bedroom. This bedroom was filled with everything that was mine and precious to me: Edward Bear, my books, my stationery, my tape recorder and tapes (music and audio books carefully recorded from the radio, my record player and LPs and my other soft toys. As a young pre-teen and teen, this space was a place to retreat, to read, to play and to feel safe.

I have very profound memories of the comfort and safety I felt in my home and in this bedroom. One particular memory about this space has been revisiting my mind over these few strange days and weeks – it was about the way I would react to any occasional nightmares I had. My nightmares were generally nebulous and non-narrative but tended to wake me with chills and skin pricking fear. My response, I remember, was always to find the things in my room most dear to me (Edward Bear, my other soft toys, my favourite books, my tape recorder and tapes) and to pile them all onto the bed with me as far away from the edges as possible so that I could save them all and keep them close. I would end up with a mountain of objects in the middle of the bed and would then spend the rest of the night trying to stop any of them slipping of the bed. If at any point, as I turned over or moved slightly, something fell onto the floor, I would leap up to rescue it and bring it back to the safety of the bed centre.
This urge to protect and keep those items that I loved most in my room close to me during moments of terror is something that once again I am feeling, I cannot seem to scoop up all those so dear to me and draw them close and away from the edges. I am left with the urge to do so but I am stripped of the ability. I long to be in the same safe space with my loved ones so that I can protect and save them not just from the virus but from the threat of the virus.
Reflecting on this, I recognise that this reaction was not just about saving those that I loved from danger, but also about saving myself from the fear and isolation that the nightmares brought. I feel the same now.
So, I am not entirely sure how I will navigate these feelings in the coming weeks, but I do know that the God I love and trust in has said that I can throw all my fear and anxiety onto him in prayer and He will give me peace in return. And I have Edward Bear to cuddle!

Glorious happenstance…

Over two years since the last blog post I feel the urge to put fingertip to keyboard once again. Perhaps it is the inevitable thought-provokingness of a birthday that triggers this urge? Or maybe it is the creative beauty of Autumnal light freckling my lounge walls with gold splashes that prompt my desire to write? Is it more likely the procrastination of a university lecturer with assignments to mark? Whatever the inspiration, here are the words…

Last week it was my birthday. I love birthdays. Other people’s birthdays that is. I love the opportunity to celebrate the life of someone with gifts, nights out, cake and candles. My own birthday, however, is another matter. I don’t like celebrating my birthday at all – I am uncomfortable with the fuss and expectation of the day and will try to find any excuse to downplay it. Perhaps the fact that with each birthday I hurtle ever closer to the half-century has something to do with it too!
Here’s what happened on my birthday last week:

After a morning teaching, my mum and I went for lunch at the perfectly named ‘Sea-Lane Cafe’ on Goring beach.The clear blue sky was full of a rainbow of kites dragging the surfers through the waves below, the kites skitting across the sky seemed to move in time with the excited tumble of seagulls and the laser beam sunshine lit up everything like a camera flash.

It was glorious.

The Sea-Lane cafe is a popular meeting place and as usual, the tables were pretty full up but we found one table with two seats spare for us, so we sat sharing the space with a couple who were enjoying a cup of tea and a slice of cake. After a couple of awkward ‘lovely place here isn’t it?’  exchanges we discovered that not only was our table companion sharing his birthday with me that day but that he was just visiting his family in Goring and that he was actually from Essex. ‘Really?’ we said, ‘whereabouts?’ It turned out, much to our amazement, that we had lived in the same town in Essex and that I had been in the same school class as his daughter 30 years ago. Much incredulous reminiscing about old school friends ensued. Bearing in mind that we were in a beach cafe on the south coast 70 miles from Essex, we couldn’t quite believe the coincidence of us being sat together that day of all days. And in some inexplicable, life-affirming way,  sharing stories and memories of the past only served to encourage us to tell each other how grateful we were for the passing of time and the blessing of the present.

I don’t know whether this gentleman enjoys celebrating birthdays or not, but I like to think that perhaps, like me, he felt that this particular birthday included a little extra surprise of glorious happenstance orchestrated just for us.

Is this the real life, or is this just fantasy?

I’ve been watching a lot of vloggers on YouTube recently (all for research of course), and have been fascinated by their use of language and how this use of language is beginning to seep into young people’s everyday colloquialisms. For example, it seems to be de rigueur these days to obsessed by things, any things. I cannot tell you how many times I have heard celebrity YouTubers stating how they are obsessed with a certain lipstick, juice drink or phone app etc. I wonder whether they really are obsessed or perhaps it is just something they ‘have been loving this week’?
Anyone who knows me well enough will know exactly what (or should I say who) I seem to be obsessed with. It is no secret that I have become rather preoccupied with a certain well spoken, educated and beautiful British screen and stage actor. I have been known to store photos of said actor on my phone ready to display as soon as someone else appears interested. I have downloaded all the films he has been in up to now, I follow him on Twitter and if I am struggling to sleep (or procrastinating about working), will often find a charming video interview with him on YouTube to watch. That’s ok isn’t it? All a bit of harmless fun surely?
Well, I don’t know.
In some of my previous blog posts, I have written about my desire to be living in the aliveness of the present moment; living my life to the full and discarding the superficial, virtual life online. What am I doing then, wasting my time and energy following someone else’s full life on YouTube and Twitter so fervently when I have my own life to live and experience and work to do? Even worse, and I am embarrassed to say this, but wasting time following this actor’s life online can mutate if I’m not careful, into wasting time in imagining actually meeting this person…dreaming up the conversations we would have about theatre, music or theology. Stupid, I know! Squandering precious ‘now’ time in favour of ridiculous fantasy.
In a recent talk I heard on ‘mindfulness’, I was shocked to learn that people spend at least 46.9% of their waking hours thinking about something other than what they’re doing, and this mind-wandering (generally about the past and more often the future) typically makes them unhappy. Unhappy? I’m not sure my mind-wandering makes me unhappy, but I do think it can make me feel dissatisfied with the present and with my reality. While some may argue that mind-wandering and fantasising might lead to creative insights, I know that more often it can take me away from the important activities and tasks at hand.
In the Bible, in the book of Romans 12: 2, Paul tells us, ‘Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.’ Paul follows this up in 2 Corinthians 10: 5, where he says, ‘take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.’  These verses encourage us to disarm any thoughts, mind wanderings and fantasies –to notice them, but to let them go.  For me this is  an active choice, act of will and decision to constantly, purposefully and deliberately  let these thoughts go and to consciously focus on the here and now with it’s joys, pains, work and rest.
The ‘fanta-sea’ may appear bright, sweet and pleasurable, but ultimately it is sickly, sticky, fake and rots your teeth. I have got a real life to live and work to do and so I choose to take captive every thought and to swim in the clean, fresh and reviving water of life over a fanta-sea any day.

Jesus on my dashboard

I don’t care if it
Rains or freezes
As long as I’ve got my
Plastic Jesus
Ridin’ on the dashboard
Of my car                                          “Plastic Jesus”  -Ed Rush and George Cromarty:1957.

I totally love my plastic dashboard Jesus, he is my silent, bobbing companion through every car journey long or short. He makes me smile as I get in the driver’s seat, he makes me chuckle as he gently sways on a smooth road, and he makes me laugh out load when he is violently bouncing up and down on the more bumpy streets.

I kind of think that the real Jesus would like his plastic replica and would find him equally amusing in the best of kitsch ways (I love a bit of kitsch- check out http://shipoffools.com/gadgets/new/index.html for some truly fantastic stuff. The Soccer playing Jesus statue is an all time classic!).  Some of you may find this all a bit irreverent, but the real Jesus is the one who hung out with tax collectors and prostitutes, healed on the sabbath and turned water into wine…I think he was irreverent enough himself!

The very, very cool thing is that I know that the real Jesus, who I am sure can sway and jig up and down like the best of us, is my everywhere, everyday companion, not just in the car…and I know that sounds cheesy, but hey I love cheesy as much as I love Kitsch!

Ha ha ha ha staying alive…

So, in 2014 my word of the year was ‘yes’ and my word for this year, 2015, is….’alive’.

I want to make this year one where I am alive: where I feel alive, I do things that make me know I’m alive, I celebrate the fact that I’m alive and most importantly, I live.

This is particularly pertinent as I have been becoming more and more aware of the increase in daily life of the virtual and superficial over the real and meaningful. The constructed narratives we publish daily and at times hourly on social media are what we want people to know about us or what we want people to think our lives are like, but not necessarily who we really are and how we really live. I know that my often smug Facebook checkins or my supposed quick fire tweets (which can actually take a ridiculously long time to compose) can be just a glorified ‘affirm me and my amazing life’ shout out. It’s as if we spend so much time deciding and fashioning what our lives should look like, that we don’t actually live. I want to live, to be alive not just be a status or a tweet.

Being alive to me means being real, not virtual.

Being alive to me means really connecting, not just ‘liking’ or favouriting.

Eckhart Tolle writes that we should ‘live increasingly in the aliveness of present moment’. How can we do this if we are too focussed on recording the present moment in a selfie, a status update or a location check in?

And what if the aliveness of the present moment is something not worthy of such a status update? Being alive will inevitably also leave us gloriously open and vulnerable to good and bad experiences, emotions and other people.

Uh oh! – This doesn’t sound like something that can be controlled or tidied up in an edit. This doesn’t sound like something I’d want to share or post, with a cheeky but appropriate emoji. 😉

My absolute favourite, Jesus, said that ‘I have come to give you life and life in all its fullness’. This is what I believe and hope being alive is…the fullness of life. Not just the edited social media highlights but the 24 hours a day of life, filled and running over with experiences, art, joy, pain, fear, longing, friendship, food, holidays, play, work, solitude, laughter, hope, despair, love…

I will try to share my being alive with you all, I will continue to record my aliveness. But if I appear absent from social media at times, sorry about that, it’s only that I am planning on being a bit preoccupied with the fullness of living!

The Genie in the bottle

So tonight, on my way home merrily listening to Jo Whiley on Radio 2 I found myself:

A) musing about baking cakes,

B) humming along to Ben Howard, and

C) contemplating the amazing couple of weeks holiday I had just had.

Really, I have had the best couple of weeks full of God stuff, friends, food, fun, wine, beer, sausages, sunshine and culture, topped off by a charming day with my two small nieces.

Then. Just at the end of the radio show, Jo played a clip from the Disney movie Aladdin. And I am crying, fully sobbing, trying to keep on driving past Preston Park. I am having to drive slowly, not just because of the sneaky traffic camera, but because I actually cannot see through the veil of tears.

I am struck by such a deep sadness that people like Robin Williams, someone who always made me so happy, can become himself so unhappy that the only way he could find to ease his pain was to end his own life. Goodness, if he only knew how my brother and I used to howl with laughter watching over and over again an old VHS tape of him live at the New York Met Opera House or how we used to greet each other with ‘nanoo, nanoo’, or how I wrote my best essay at university about the links between madness and spirituality based almost entirely on watching him as Oliver Sachs in Awakenings, or how moved I was by his performance in The Fisher King… I could go on and on 

Fellow clown, Jim Carey allegedly said: “I wish everybody could get rich and famous and get everything they ever dreamed of, so they will know that it is not the answer.” Robin was certainly rich and famous and in the eyes of the world, he was a success. An Oscar winner, a sold out stand up comic, a millionaire. The kind of life we would wish for if by chance we happened upon a magic lamp with an all powerful genie inside? 

And yet…

He must have known how loved he was? Surely? The words from his fans, friends and most importantly his family all attest to this. I have never seen Facebook or twitter so lit up by the messages of sadness and  shock at this man’s passing. Genuine loss has been felt by millions who never even met him, but have had their lives touched by him in some way. He was truly loved and adored. 

And yet…

 And so I am crying. In gratitude for my charmed life with its blessings and joys. In heartbreak for those, like Robin, in despair and who can’t see any light in their life. And for the loss of Robin Williams. RIP.