Sunday, 22 April 2018

No words needed

Excerpt - Absolutely Clear by Hafiz


Accepting uncertainty 

Thursday, 5 April 2018

Pain & procrastination

Full of sleep and pain meds, plus copious cups of coffee, I search for words and the motivation to sit down and write something. And here I am, wanting not to appear self-indulgent, and confused about my motivation for putting fingers to keys this morning.

And then I remember that I am certainly not the only person suffering uncertainty this morning, suffering full stop this morning. I am not alone in this. And you dear reader are my motivation. It is with all of us in my mind that I feel the need to find a way to connect to you.

What I didn't want to do was to harp on about how I have spent the last three days lying in bed, sleeping on and off, not sleeping on and off, wiling away hours on Facebook, checking the likes on my latest Instagram post, listening to hours and hours of my newest audio-book, and feeling so sorry for myself that even I have got bored of myself. Bored of my self-pitying ways, of procrastinating, of wallowing and catastrophising, of illness and loneliness, of doing utterly nothing for hours on end.

So, with that out of the way, and still searching for words, I sit at my desk, fingers poised and ready, brain not so ready, attempting to connect. Trying to encourage you to also put fingers to keys, to let me know your pain, whether physical or emotional. To help me find a way that together we can make a small dent in the epidemic of isolation. I plan to write more cohesive posts here about the statistics and research on this growing problem, but for today it is enough to just sit for an hour and try to communicate in some small way, how this feels from my perspective and what it is I want to do about it, with your help.

I had this idea that a difference could be made, that I could co-create an online space that would encourage people to actually meet each other, to do things together that involved a nearness of physical proximity, touch, laughter, mutual grief or celebration, in fact all and everything that we need to feel satisfied as humans in an ever alienating and fragmenting digital world. Ironic, I guess, that I feel this can be achieved through initial virtual connections, but I see now, from personal experience, how important online connection is for those of us who are isolated for whatever reason. Whether we connect because of our similarities or differences doesn't really matter to me, it is connecting itself that is important. It is the coming together that matters.

So through my medicated haze I would like to encourage you to help me with this. To share with me any ideas you may have about how this website could be built. Do you have technical skills that you could share with me? Do you desire to make a difference too, and I'm not talking about changing the world here, just re-navigating our own paths slightly so that they may cross in a way that is fulfilling and satisfying, and makes us feel less alone.

Monday, 2 April 2018

Rainy days & holidays.

Finally out of bed after a couple of days of increased pain. I learnt yesterday, via Facebook, which I am trying to avoid, but which is often my only connection to the outside world, that an old school friend has died. I didn’t know her that well in the years since we left high school, but had been in touch with her recently as she and I shared a diagnosis. I realise that we shared not much more than a diagnosis and having attended, and hated, the same school in our teenage years, and yet I find myself thinking about her this morning, thinking about her family, her sons and her friends, and contemplating my own life and mortality.

Am I lucky to still be alive suffering the ‘slings and arrows of outrageous fortune’? Am I grateful for the close friends I do have, for having been brought up by a passionate father who loved me very much, and a hard-working and selfless mother, who I am now fortunate enough to live with, even though it was the last thing I had expected? Am I grateful to be living in my childhood home, in the midst of a friendly enough Thames-side village, a mere stone’s throw from some of the most beautiful countryside I know? I sit and muse these and other questions of thankfulness and appreciation for what I do have, and resolve to focus on this, for today at least, and not on what I feel I lack.

So today, I will get outside, into the clean air and the fresh rain. I will wrap my pain up against the damp weather and will enjoy the natural surroundings I feel lucky enough to have the opportunity to experience, every day if I so choose to.