The end of expression...

Blogging. Hm. Not sure I've felt this little about writing, hm – and that's not even a real sentence. You start, no you start. Okay, I'll start.

So tell me about your week, Rory.

Not a bad week – but I can't seem to remember very much about it. Bought a bike, on Monday, I think it was, and read a book about why men and women (and other people besides) have such a hard time understanding one another, which was quite enlightening. On Wednesday I went to see a nice lady doctor and she put her finger up my bum, which was nice, and gave me a kick. Can't understand why she asked me if I would prefer a male doctor, though – like, what guy would not prefer to have a lady do that to him, when given the choice? Strange. Apart from that, I worked, I rode my bike, I – oh, and I haven't eaten any chocolate in eight days now! Which has been interesting!

How so?

Well, Monday, when I first decided that I was maybe gonna have a month off eating like someone who wanted to kill themselves with sugar and fat, I was having major strong, almost irresistible cravings for chocolate and chips, and I almost gave in – but then Tuesday it had died down quite a lot, and by Wednesday it was pretty much gone – to the extent that I could hold chocolates in my hand and not feel any attraction whatsoever – although I had a really stonking headache, which reminded me of when I gave up caffeine. After that, I've had lots of snot, and a bit of a sore throat, and even some flu-like symptoms – and it could be totally unrelated, but it really feels like my body sort of cleaning itself out. The weird thing about that is, it seems to have really kicked in because I decided to give it a month – that seems to have triggered something. I mean, I've gone days without chocolate before – and not had headaches and snots and big massive cravings and things – but just making that decision to fight through it looks to have kicked something off inside my body. In any case, I'm pretty proud of myself that I resisted – and also amazed at how easy it's been, considering I was compulsively eating between fifty and two hundred grams of chocolate everyday, plus, quite often, biscuits as well. But once I broke that barrier, it hasn't been difficult at all. I think I must have quite strong will power.

Now about this lady doctor…

Oh yeah, well she sent me off for a blood test and then said they might have to stick a camera up my bum and have a little look around, which I thought was quite exciting, would be a brand new and pretty novel experience, etcetera – also made me think how easy it is to get yourself into that kind of thing, like all you have to do is go into some doctor's surgery and say, "I got some blood in me poos," and within a day or two you're getting a nice lady's finger up your arse. You could make a living out of it, if you wanted – or, not a living but, you know, you could make it a regular thing if that was your bag, it's really that easy. Still can't understand why you'd want a man, though…I guess maybe some people are shy, or don't just take it as a thrill. I've always enjoyed that kind of thing I guess – like going to the opticians: a very erotic treat with a nice lady optometrist all leaning over you in those monster frames with the light off about three centimetres from your face, her breath on your cheeks, in your ear saying, "better with this one…or this?" That's bananas straight outta the top drawer!

And I was wondering…how are you feeling about Wakefield? I notice you're still there…

Yeah, and I think I've decided to stop moaning about it – think I'm gonna try and be a bit more positive from now on. I mean, moaning's got its place, but it's being positive that really seems to draw things to you…so enough of that. And not that my opinion of Wakefield's changed at all – but if I want to do something about it then I will, and that's that. I know the only thing that keeps me here is my laziness, my lack of being arsed to get out and look for something else, the convenience – it's all my thing. Well, that and the ever constant idea that, "maybe there's some reason for this; maybe I need to be here, or maybe there's something else around the corner that'll require me to move quite quickly, that'll make perfect sense of my avoidance in moving to Leeds and getting involved in contracts and deals with other people" – I always have that. Thing is, that just keeps me from committing to anything, this idea that there might be something better, something different around the corner; I type that and that don't seem good. What can I do to change that?

Well, you could always just change that. Or you could ask the I Ching about moving from/staying where you are…

Say, that's not a bad idea…just gimme five minutes, will you, while I go and do a reading…

[Five minutes pass]

Hm, so I got Chapter 19: Approach – which, even in that word seems to talk to me about 'movement'. It also talked about "perseverance" and "persistence," and some troubling line about "misfortune in the eighth month" – which I guess I shouldn't really take too literally (I've been here six months now; I wonder if the spirit of this house/this town/my brother is sapping me somehow). Finally, my second changing line said, "Approaching with friendliness. Things go well. It is not a mistake." I guess that's pretty clear-cut! I mean, what I'm really looking for here is the assurance that there's not some good, hidden reason to wait it out in Wakefield – something I haven't yet seen, in which case old I Ching would quite clearly tell me to wait (which I wouldn't like, but would do), whereas this is just the opposite. I guess I have the green light then! (Also seemed to be some encouraging remarks about getting with others – perhaps more like-minded people – but I suppose that'll have to remain to be seen…)

So you're gonna go for it, then? Whatcha gonna do?

I dunno – put some effort in, perhaps? :-) That would be novel! Yeah, I'll put some effort in – I'll try, at least. I'm such a lazy boy at times. But, hey, I'm dying out here, I need to save myself. Agh, it was never this hard when all I had was a backpack and a tent, and a great fondness for standing by roads with my thumb out, waiting for a –

And there you go again, harking back to the past…why'd you do that?

What?

Why are you always harking back to the past?

Trying to relive something, I suppose – trying to recapture something…of my youth (I almost said).

(You did say…)

Trying to…I dunno, get back the life I once had, the life I used to live, the – listen, I just feel like something got lost along the way, or that life was better like that, and I have this real desperate urge somewhere inside to "get it back on track." I don't think I've turned out how I was supposed to – I think I had much more to offer than this: I mean, how did I go from people thinking I was Jesus, doing healings, having crowds of teenagers flock around me for hugs and singsongs, travelling, wandering, having insights and realisations and feelings, miracles and stuff, to being this guy who watches too much telly, uses too much computer and, even on a bright blue-sky day, can look out the window and just think, "oh, there's nothing out there," and go back to getting fat and wasting time. How does that happen?

Tell me something: when was the last time you felt at home somewhere?

Probably at Vipassana, at Dhamma Dipa, cooking food and hanging in the kitchen and doing lots of meditation and having spiritual chats and things. I definitely felt like I was with my kind of people then.

And after that?

Then there was Amsterdam, and Paris, and…Wakefield, Canada, Dublin too – and I guess that was a bit weird, like I never really fitted, like I was always looking for somewhere else to be…

And then?

And then? Dereham! And I've fond memories of that! Because, sure, I was still crazy, but in what felt like a good way – 'cos I was hanging out with all those kids, and they dug me, and dug that scene, and we had lots of magic times, with the healing and the discussions and the holy water and the girls saying, "give him a hug, it's weird" – and me knowing that's because they were getting something from me, picking up on that divine energy, getting a transmission – similar to at Dhamma Dipa, I suppose – and that was a magic time, full of growth and happiness and love, even if I was still a little on the outside (was I? no, I don't think I was) and perhaps some of the townsfolk thought I was a bit weird for wanting to sleep in a graveyard and hang out with teenagers, even if it made perfect sense to me. Man, grownups are so boring! – they're just like me, as I am now – what with their teevee and pubs and just sitting around not doing very much, at least those kids had life! Yeah, I dug that – but I guess it wasn't sustainable, was it? No, I guess I needed more…

University.

University, yeah – and that feeling I had when I got accepted, walking down the High Street, suddenly, for like the first time in five years or something not feeling totally and utterly different to everyone – all the normal people – around me, feeling like I'd come back down to Earth; that was refreshing. And yet I look back now and wonder if university wasn't the undoing of me, if that wasn't the start where everything started to trickle away from me – because it was a trickle, it wasn't an overnight thing, but…that's the question: how did I go from barefoot, graveyard-dwelling, Jesus-a-like to a bunch of Norfolk teenagers to barefoot, caravan-dwelling, long-haired juggling student, to be-shoed, house-dwelling, short-haired tie-wearing teacher, to teevee-watching, bored and boring, hair-concerned, material-chasing nobody? Weird, eh? [lol]

:-)

It was the girlfriend, was it? Did she change me? (Read as: did I choose to change for her?) Or was it time? The natural-aging process, the inevitable comedown from the vagaries and wildnesses of youth – especially a travelling, wandering, sadhu-like youth such as mine? Was it just nature? Was it just the way it was meant to be? And is the only problem in all of this that I'm holding on too tight to what has gone? Or could it have been different? Was there another way? I rack my brain to try and find the turning in the road I missed – and I just can't see it, it all leads more or less to this point [of being 'normal'] so…maybe that's just it, maybe that's the way it's supposed to be…

But the thing you want most of all – beyond the freedom, beyond the adventures…

The thing I want most of all is God – to feel that Divine Presence once again, the magic, the miracles, the light, the wonder – spiritual growth, discovery, revelation, insight, mystical experiences…

And do you believe that it is possible to attain those things in what you call 'normal life'?

I do – at least, I've read about it, perhaps seen it in others…it just never seems to have been the case for me, I've only ever really found that in being out there, being on that cliff top, on that precipice, alone, in the wilderness, on the edge…living the traveller's life, being free, unshackled…

Why not?

Why have I never found it? I dunno, I guess I feel different when I'm living like this; I get sucked into different things. I don't know where to find what I'm after – and then I get dissatisfied, disillusioned, bored, and I fall into bad habits – and bad habits grow, like a fungus, until they're covering me completely. I'm lazy, I guess; I always said I was. Except being out there forces me, and I need that sometimes (a lot of the time; well, all the time). I need forcing; that's why the idea of living in a graveyard appeals to me – it still does; it did today – because it forces me to be outside, forces me out of my comfort zone and…well, my life in Dereham improved a thousand percent once I did that, moved out of that room and made my home among the genuinely dead, but…

Yes?

There was this story that always struck me, the one about the student asking his master, "what is Maya?" and the master, I dunno, walking away and then the student, I dunno, leaves him and gets married and has kids and works and argues and laughs and cries and then he gets old and dies and the next thing he knows he's sitting there with his master and the master's saying, "there, that's Maya," and I've thought about that fairly often over the years, 'cos I asked that question once, and I'm wondering if that isn't somehow happening to me – and then, if it is, isn't there a shortcut through it, why should I have to live all that when it's all ultimately pointless and can't I just get on with the real business of realising my Self, my Soul, my God? But then…perhaps it's my karma to have to go through with all of this, and reap the rewards in the next life – I guess that's the crux of it: do I want to settle down and have children (yes, very often I do) or do I want to do something else? Do I want to make a go of it with Sara, or do I want to jack it all in? I guess I'm caught somewhere in the middle, and therefore I go nowhere – and yet my ship appears – and has appeared for some time – to be sailing towards the former. But why don't I go for it?

[All together now!]

Because I'm scared that perhaps there's something better around the corner, and that if I commit to this one thing, I'll close that off and miss the boat when the time comes! It's everything, really, with me; it's moving to Leeds, it's committing to a job, it's having an accidental baby, it's being in a relationship, a town, a bunch of friends, a band, or on a university course, it's the whole lot – and I don't feel good about that! (It's making me restless in my chair even as I type!) It's making me –

And what do you want to do about that?

I want to do the thing that I would if I didn't feel that way. I want to take the course even if I don't think it's right, even if I might drop out, even if I might lose some money; I want to move to the house, even if I might move out, even if I might lose some money – because that's what those things come down to, at the end of the day, just losing money and perhaps wasting a bit of time (which I'm wasting anyway). But other things – relationship, family – are different, and that's why I'm wary to commit there. Hey, I'm a loyal guy! I guess I know my commitment means something, and that's why I don't do it so easily. I…oh, I don't fookin' know…I –

Listen, why don't you tell us about the reading you had in Glastonbury back in March, I know you've been wanting to share that for a while…

Okay. Well…the things I remember from that are – first of all, the guy is very good, I've seen him a few times before, going back six or seven years, and pretty much everything he said came to pass – and he's very specific, too, with times and events, not at all wishy-washy, although I wasn't so sure about this latest one. Anyway, the first thing I can think of is…he told me I ought to be getting serious about spirituality – and that's bugging me 'cos I know I haven't, and I really don't know where to start, and it just feels like I might be missing out on something big if I don't crack that one within the next year or so – but I really don't know where to start. Spirituality, once so real to me, is starting to feel so far away, like a distant dream – man, I read some of my journals from like seven years ago, all about 'cycles' and 'light' and, oh, I don't know what, and I could barely make head nor tail of them, they sounded so far beyond me, like a whole different language – man, that can't be good! :-) So, yeah, "take spirituality seriously" – and not that I take anything seriously, but I think that would be a good one. He also said I still had "mother issues" – which is fair enough, makes some sense – and that I could probably do some work to sort that out – which doesn't seem to have happened either. He said it was perhaps related to something with my mum from when I was "four or five" – but I can't think of anything there – and I'll be damned if I'm going to ask her about it.

(Why?)

(I just won't.)

He also said I might travel to the third world/Asia around the end of this year (and not to think about the money for it; fair enough) and that I would write three books, pretty effortlessly, that they were already done (which felt right; thinking my university essays) and that now (we're talking March just gone here) wasn't the time, but at the beginning of next year I would probably be ready (if I did what needed to be done now, which I'm sure I haven't!) And he said that I ought to get out into nature (for sure, when I think about it, spiritual-wise that was always what brought me the greatest gifts; haven't been doing that either) and also think about doing some shamanic kind of practice, a vision-quest or sweat lodge or burial or something – maybe something I had a resistance to, something I hadn't done before. I thought about the burial – I definitely have a resistance to being stuck underground, unable to move, trapped in a cave stylee – but haven't been able to find that anywhere either (and I have trawled the 'net and emailed several people about it) – so I guess I'm stuck. There was also stuff in there about relationships – which I probably messed up by getting with Y (and then perhaps X as well!) – and, oh, I don't know what else. But unlike his other readings, which seemed to all come to pass without much effort or thought on my part, this one looks like it should have required something from me, and that's bothering me now that I've got it all wrong. I guess before I was travelling and living in that tunnel of light so things were happening naturally; now I'm focusing on work and living (and gameshows! and Big Brother! and the curve of a girl's bosom!) and nothing's really happening. Not good! So that's that…

I'm sorry I don't have words of encouragement to offer you…

That's okay; I guess it's just me own stupid self to blame – but there's always the hope that I can put things right; there's always the hope that the big Divine Hand'll come down and save me. Getting out of this place would probably be a good start! Going somewhere new – living in a graveyard! – and lightening my load and being more 'out there' and investigating what's an offer would be nice. At least, that's all I can think of – that, and tripping into nature, a jaunt on Ilkley Moor, a three-day walkabout in the woods, me and my sleeping bag and, man, what all else do you need? I want to be light and free again – not just in my load, but in my heart, in my intentions and motivations and anti-laziness cream; I watched Gryf Rhys-Jones hiking some Lake District mountain and him going on about the "suicidal" Samuel Coleridge doing it in his suit with "only a change of collar and two books" in his knapsack – compared to all the gear old GRJ was carrying – and I thought, hey ho, that's the life for me! I could do that! I want to do that. I can't be doing with all these, you can't-types, with their hiking boots and full-weather gear and what-have-you – man, people used to go walking in the North Pole just in their suit 'n' shoes a hundred years ago, we've gone soft.

And you've started waffling!

You're right, I have. I'll tell you what.

What?

I'll tell you about church today.

Okay, go on then.

Okay. So I went to the Methodist one just up the road, and it was all right. There were plenty of hymns to get you all light-headed and out of breath – which maybe helps bring on a certain feeling – and the place was packed out with all these well-dressed smiling types looking all happy and ting. I sang the songs, I did the standing up, sit down thing, I got a bit of a high feeling and started seeing the golden glow all around and that Star of David symbol in my third eye, which I generally take as a good sign (if you'll pardon the pun) and I guess you can't really fault it. I also had a few realisations – one of which was to start being more positive, moan less (which I may well do tomorrow); the others I've forgot! – and maybe that lovely feeling of sadness when you can almost taste the thing you've been missing out on. But – he says; there's always a but (especially when we're talking Christian churches here) – I just don't think I'll be going back, because much as I like being in a place where your being gets turned towards God just through the simple process of singing a song, saying some words, showing up and opening up to that possibility, when it comes to the whole thing of, "oh Jesus, you're so cool, you're so much better than everyone else, you did this and that for us, for me" and, especially, that "one true faith" malarkey I just think, "what a load of tosh!" I just thought: this whole place – strangely enough – is way too Jesus-centric (and then, the deeper truth, is that it's way too Paulist, if you get my drift, but that's a totally different argument altogether). I mean, sure, that makes sense but – I'm sorry, to me, who's sat at the feet of Amma, who's had incredible experiences with Mother Meera, who's seen far more of God in Sufism, in Shamanism, in Sikhism, in meditation, in tai-chi, in yoga; who's studied the works and words of Buddha, of Lao-Tsu, of Krishna, Yogananda, Ramana Maharshi…well, I could never give myself over to those blind declarations of faith – and that makes me sad, 'cos there's another place that I quite like, but could never be a part of, must always be somewhat of an outsider. I like church – hey, church works - but I want a church that's about God – about getting close to God – and not about some idiot's misguided idea of God (there's that Paul again) getting in the way of it. Maybe I should revisit the Lentilian idea of worship...

Maybe you should.

Hey, listen, I don't really know how we got here.

That's okay.

I just feel that…this writing doesn't seem to be lifting my burden any more. Am I complaining too much? Am I just going over the same old things, and that's why it doesn't feel like I'm making any progress (oh, I don't like Wakefield; oh, I wish I was living how I used to; blah blah blah)? Am I…am I missing something here as well? I'm not even doing those random, fact-based fictions, those gibberishes, those make-believe people that are really aspects of myself anymore – and I quite enjoyed that. Something's gone wrong; maybe I need to live a little again, so that I can write a little again; maybe…God, is it really two weeks since I last saw my car? lol

[I shake my head and wonder]

Time's doing strange things to me. I feel better without chocolate. I coulda probably said all this in twenty words – not four thousand. I don't care that nobody reads or understands this. I'll satisfy myself with my non-lonely bed. I dreamed last night that my mum drank out of one of my pee-bottles, thinking it was cider; it was strange how much she drank before she realised what it was. I also dreamed that Thaila Zucchi was five foot four. I think I'm going off the idea of a celebrity girlfriend. I may be going off the idea of women full-stop. What I'd really like is a harem. I can't be bothered with all the rest of it. I know that's bad, but that's how I feel sometimes. Sometimes all I need is to be taken care of. Sometimes I wish I had a house-keeper, that I was a rich old Victorian philosopher that chatted with his men-friends in the parlour and debated and discovered all day and didn't even know how to make a sandwich. Sometimes I wish I was a beatnik, and just talked gibberish and I think I could almost do that, except I couldn't quite believe it and, anyway, I'm straight-edge and you can't be straight-edge and be a beatnik, not a proper fifties beatnik. Sometimes I wish I was a sailor, an explorer, a mountain-man, a boy who never came home because home wasn't possible, because everything was so far away before planes and trains and, anyway, there was so much of the world to explore. I think I'd better stop now; my wrists are aching and I'm just waffling pap. Things'll be different in the future, I realise that now. Thank you! By-eee!