I know to whom I bow.

If you believe humanity is good
If you believe we creatures are truly intelligent
If you believe in the science of equilibrium, dharma, karma
You’d care less about the rules and more about your conscience.

2010 rolled into the station, predictably on time but blowing a whistle and puffing a little more steam than I recalled anticipating. Amidst the fog, I stumbled into a content, wryly amused and empowered cabin; where ‘wrong decisions’ that ‘feel right’ become acceptable, and ‘right decisions’ that ‘feel wrong’, condemnable.

I committed mental treason,
a coup on Western society,
I have stolen back the element of choice.

We fool ourselves with sweeping claims that humanity is in tune with one another. Taking the life of another human being is wrong, equality is right; a Benetton advert of creeds and colours holding hands and embracing a helix of seemingly universal edicts isn’t human experience condensed. That isn’t what we know hour by hour, each day, each year.

We wonder whether to buy the Big Issue, whether to eat that doughnut, whether to kiss them again now we noticed the glint of a wedding ring. Do we stand up for the institution, indemnify ourselves as it wasn’t our finger bearing the band or pretend, even to ourselves, we hadn’t noticed?

In my 2010, the criteria for good and bad are measured against a level of genuine, intrinsic guilt that arises resulting from an action, not societal shame.
And there is a difference.
Such a difference.

The rules protect the system.
My conscience protects my humanity.

I know to whom I bow.

Fall in love with safety, forget liberty

Having recently spent some time confronting the frustration that my ‘alternative’ career (life?) path occasionally inspires in others, I took to wondering for a while whether I should seriously consider making that antipodean step into .. ‘traditional’ employment.

And I admit, I do have moments, whole minutes even, where I wish I had taken a more conventional option; gotten a stable job with regular hours and a wage that arrived, in my bank account, each month. Found a nice house with a manageable mortgage, taken yearly holidays to destinations you can buy guide books for..

But what I suppose becomes clear to me, as I grow weary of these daydreams within seconds, is that I’d tire of this life before I even began to build it.

I’m in the Scottish Sunday Times today, a long and flattering article which makes me blush to read. And I know that if even a line of what is written there about my future prospects comes to pass, all the stresses and frustrations I speak of, and all the rest yet to come, will have been worth it.

If not a phoneme rings true a decade from now? As my stable wage chips slowly away at my debt, and normalcy has truely claimed me?.. Well, at least we can all say I went down fighting.

I promise to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable,
that I will never accept what I am told,
that I will never fall in love with safety and forget liberty
I promise that I will look for the lie in every pretty story
and the bribe in every convenience.

A quiet word about moving on..

I’m in Ghana just now (reflections to come shortly) but as I am nearing the end of my stay here, I have found myself thinking about heading ‘home’.

“Home” – being a troublesome term when I currently, literally, do not have an address, nor truly know when I will acquire one. Obligations and meetings have me in London, Cambridge, Dorset and Glasgow in the days following my return from Accra, and so i feel somewhat sooner inclined to the notion of ‘heading onward’ than ‘heading home’. It certainly makes for less dissonance whilst my mind is assimilating the concepts surrounding my various decisions to, also, mentally ‘move on’.

I can’t help but imagine that if I deftly clicked the heels of these red-glitter pumps and chanted the infamous;
“There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home…”
Kismet would just shrug her many shoulders and look at me as if to say;
“Well…You’re on your own here Luv.”

…and i think i’m cool with that.

Anonymity, The security blanket of Cyberspace.

I have recently created a physical space for myself that is new, challenging, frequently frightening and within which I have worked hard to begin the difficult process of eliminating my reliance on safety nets and comfort blankets.

Yet, as I continue (begin?) to figure out who I am, what I am doing, what I want to do and how I can be of use in this world, I continue to post here under an anonymous blog.

Next step.
Have the faith in myself, and those around me, to be able share this blog and thus to admit to:

Who I have been*
(frequently false, scared, confused, angry, lost, thoughtless or selfish)
Who I am*
(learning, growing, healing, listening, reclaiming responsibility and becoming independent)
Who I aspire to be*
(beneficial, oriented, honest, open and accepting, clear, calm, mindful and compassionate)

..and in admitting it, finally begin to reconcile the words I write in cyberspace with the words I speak, and the actions I take in my life on this planet.

* I have always, and will continue always, to love. Love completely. Love fearlessly. Love unwaveringly and Love without reason, expectation, analysis or question.

In fact, that’s the first thing I can add to my bio.
“I Love”

Observe & Acknowledge

It’s been a difficult fortnight, and I am aware I’ve been making an effort to socialise to keep myself from hauling up like a hermit with only my own thoughts for company. I’ve noticed that it is easier to sleep if I’ve had a couple of drinks, so I’ve been seeking out situations where I can drink in order to help me rest.

Although I mean ‘a couple’ of drinks, as in 2 or 3, and although I haven’t been ‘drunk’ at all, I have been enjoying the hazy, languid, glow that alcohol puts over the world – like a silk scarf over a bedside lamp – a little too much.

This is not clever.

I hope that by observing and acknowledging this, it doesn’t become a problem.