Catching up on writing a bit of a struggle at the moment. Many things happening and things generally better than writing. Socialising. Being with people. Last thing I wrote was last Friday: supposed to have been a list of all the various things and tying it up and moving on. But only got two points made. Wanted to talk about relationship situation also, plus other things besides. Maybe it doesn’t matter. But still I want to write. So…
1.
I was talking about my life with the Christians. I was a bit dissatisfied I guess, and had a couple of days of feeling weird and not where I should have been and maybe a little on the outside, as is my wont. But then that passed and I went back to feeling great and loving life with them. Such is emotion and expression and the arising and falling of certain states of mind within. Don’t even know why I was feeling the way I was – and not interested neither. We’ve moved on – though I do feel a little bit bad about thinking the things I thought. Oh well.
2.
But in relationship to that, I watched a fascinating series of videos by a chap who was once a devout Christian – much in the way that my friends here are – and who no longer is. He catalogues his deconversion and journey into a kind of “theistic atheism”. Good chap. Very enlightening. Felt like I learned a bunch watching those.
3.
Also, we’ve had a ton of fun. Meals and discussions and barbeques. Making silly videos. Laughter and jokes and awesome conversations. Getting to know people better. Sharing something of my story with them. They’re open and know that I’ve got a little something something. One girl after church remarks how radiant I look, “shining like Moses.” Christian continues to ask questions and ponder the fact of the obvious divinity he sees in a non-Christian. Plus something even more awesome which I’ll write about now.
4.
I’d just got into bed a couple of nights back when Christian says, “Juliet’s been knocked off her bike, can you come?” We run out the house and find her and another friend a few streets away. She’s sat quietly crying from shock and we sit with her a while. Christian and the other girl have their hands on her but I’m an outsider and don’t know her well enough for that. Also, I’m dressed only in a sarong. It’s around midnight I guess. The details come out and though her bike is fucked and it sounds like she landed pretty hard she’s mostly okay. Apart from her arm, which hurts a lot and she can’t move her wrist or thumb, etc. Christian takes a look and, as is their wont, says they should pray for it. He gives thanks and prays. I’m sitting there thinking about my healing gift and wondering if I should do something. I feel like I should but I’m not sure of my place and don’t want to trespass. So I just do it in my head. When they’re done she’s still in pain and I wonder if I should make a move. But still I’m unsure. And then Christian says, “Rory. Any thoughts?” and I instinctively move to sit in front of the girl and tell her to rest her wrist in my hand. I feel the tension in her elbow and ask her to relax it, let my hand take the weight of her arm. She does that and then I place my other hand on top of her wrist. Close my eyes and silently intone the words of the 23rd Psalm. Breathe and ask for the healing energy to come through me. Feel good inside and spacious. And after a minute or so feel that it is done.
The girl looks up at me then with quiet surprise in her eyes. She looks down at her hand and begins to flex it. Moves her thumb and her fingers pretty much normally, when two minutes before they were hardly moving at all. Turns her wrist.
This girl, I know, is a sincere believer. She sings and plays guitar and puts her heart and her soul into her worship. Same for Christian. Same for the other girl. But they’re all amazed.
“I’ve never been healed before,” she says, “I wasn’t sure it would happen.” She’s shocked – happily so – and I’m shocked at that. I figured it would be self-evident.
And on the way home Christian is giddy with excitement and talks about how he’s there with his “generic Christian prayers” and nothing happens and then I do my thing and he can’t believe what’s just taken place. He wants to know everything.
It’s an eye-opener, I guess, for us all.
5.
I wonder, I suppose, whether this won’t be the start of something. But for ideas like that I have to let go and give it to God. It’s not up to me, the time and the way that events unfold. None of us knew this would happen. The girl was in our living room five minutes before and had other options that wouldn’t have led to her getting knocked off her bike. None of that was planned. And as for whys…
Was it so that “the works of God might be displayed”?
6.
Mostly what I’m thinking, though, is about faith and belief. How it was that these guys with such belief who love to pray and espouse so much were – let’s be honest – ineffectualin these particular prayers whereas I was not? I mean, I’m trying very hard not to be egoistic here – and I don’t feel I am being; more the objective observer and reporter – but you’ve got to say it how it is sometimes.
Also, why should they have been so amazed by such a thing? That was what amazed me. And it made me think that there’s perhaps a big difference between faith and belief: that belief is an idea in the mind that something might be possible, and that you want it to be possible, but faith is a reality in the heart and in the very being of person, and the knowing that something is possible. Can belief become faith or is belief merely an openness to possibility? Is experience the only thing that can provide real faith, real knowing? Is experience the logical place to which belief must lead if it is to become something more than an idea?
I mean, you just can’t fake these things, right? And no matter how fervent the prayer or how sincerely held the belief, it ain’t gonna effect reality unless there’s something of substance behind it.
I didn’t word that very well but no doubt better minds than mind will understand the gist…
7.
The other question, of course, is of what it was like for them to see that happen. That those “generic Christian prayers to Jesus” did nothing yet my silent touch did. Both Christian and the girl wanted to know to whom I prayed and I told them “God.” I think they would have loved it if I’d said Jesus but that wouldn’t have been the truth. I dig Jesus but my faith is in God first and foremost, just as his was. I guess that both he and I are praying to the same force is good enough for them, fearful as they are of unknown and outside influences. And they’re delightfully open. The next day I see Juliet and ask her how her arm is. She says she went to the doctor and they told her she had a dislocated thumb and a fractured wrist. But she also says that after the healing there was no pain and that she slept like a log. I dig that. No reason why God should use me to instantly fix her bones and remove whatever lesson/life direction this event should bring about. But probably no reason, also, not to at least provide respite from the pain. And that brings me to the other issue, that of questions of this healing being “all in the mind” or of somehow being a placebo – for the fact that her body/mind responded to the silent touch of a stranger rather than the fervent prayers of close friends and fellow believers speaks volumes.
Like I say, interesting times all round…
8.
And now I move on to questions of Greece, which is one of the main things I was pondering last time, sitting last Friday morning writing in the upstairs prayer room – we now have a downstairs one too, for this week at least – and trying to find an answer. Thoughts in my head about wanting to go. Cheap plane tickets for the following Monday available. But uncertainty about what to do with my current job, whether it was the right time to leave. One friend on facebook had said, “come in August when I’m going” but I imagined her trip to be a very different one to mine. But also in that prayer room there was an opened “calendar Bible” – not sure what they’re really called – and I kept finding myself staring at it as I typed and eventually noticed that that was opened at August the 8th and I guess August slowly slipped into my mind. Who knows what it really means? But I wouldn’t be surprised; I’ve had things like this happen before (most recently when trying to decide/divine the departure date for my last trip to Mexico ). And in any case, things here have settled and improved; and the cheap plane ticket of last Monday that was causing my brain to want an answer done passed; and, of course, I have a job and going away would be a bit of a headache from my boss, while he’s waiting for other people to start. So all is well and we’ll see about that.
Really, I hit the nail on the head at the end of my last blog piece: “one day, one step, one decision at a time…”
9.
The other decision my mind was feeling a bit of a squeeze to make was the one regarding relationship, and Laura. That moment the other week when I was asking her about what she felt “the duties of a wife were” and the connection we experienced when hearing her answers. I could have just gone for it then but, as ever, I held back. And then last weekend she came over to Leeds and spent Saturday and Sunday night in the spare room and I felt like – to put it bluntly – I went off her. Various things that there’s probably no point going into. And so the decision is made. I mean, not that I can ever say one hundred “no” – at least not right now – but it’s obvious there’s no way I could give even a fifty percent “yes” and so I have to leave it at that and let time take its course. In reality, anyways, it may only have been her age and the thoughts of what that means as far as creating a family goes that was pressuring me into wanting to make a decision, and that’s probably not the best reason. And so I relax a bit and resolve to the single life. Although that’s not exactly the end of it…
Laura. Poor Laura who forever wants to know “where she stands.” She feels like I’ve confused her and even though I say, “but I haven’t done anything” and know that I’ve done my best to keep this whole process of “thinking about it” inside myself, I guess she’s right. In a way. She says I have control of her emotions and I say that she must have given me control because I’ve done nothing to take control. I say she should be less focussed on me and more focussed on The Higher Power, on herself, her soul. To not build her castle on the shifting sands of another human being’s emotional whims but on something a little more eternal than that. At church on Sunday she says, in response to the usual sermon about needing God, that the guy was right, that she did feel she had a hole inside her. Not that she’s about to become a Christian but I know what she means, because I once felt that hole. And I guess it made me think that she’s perhaps been trying to use me to fill that space, and that just won’t work. Number one, because my natural bent is towards freedom, and I won’t be captured or contained. And number two, because another human being can never truly fill that hole, not in the long run, and something in us knows that. I hope she can fill that hole – and become whole in herself – and then I guess we’ll see.
I’ve been reading a bunch lately on Christian ideals of relationship and, apart from the usual weird insistence on adherence to the Bible and Jesus, I like it. Certainly, the things I’ve read seem like a better model for relationship than the standard modern take on it, culled from the pages of Hollywood and filled with unrealistic expectation. There’s the acceptance that relationship is bloody difficult and takes work. That it’s a struggle at times, even if it’s ultimately joyful and good. One of the best analogies I read was from a guy who compared the single life to having a lovely clean stable and the married life to filling that stable with a couple of oxen. The oxen provide you with strength and something useful and many other possibilities and gifts besides – but they also fill your previously clean stable with shit, and that shit takes some sweeping and cleaning. I guess the question is what would you rather have? Something effortless but ultimately useless, or something that takes work, and some of it unpleasant and smelly, but that gives you loads in return?
Anyways, I dig these ideas I’ve been reading. I like the fidelity and the purity of it and it makes me wince when I think of how I was last year, in my free love experiments. Seems like that was a bunch of shit but with not much reward, save a few minutes here or there. Feels much better for now to be celibate and not really thinking about those things. Not even wanked since I moved in here five and a bit weeks ago; pretty much forgotten orgasm and hard-ons exist. Better things going on in my life. And better girls, and a better me, awaiting me at some point in the future.
But Laura. Still something to be done, perhaps. Christian comes to me – beautiful shining Christian nearly fifteen years younger than me – and says I need to talk to her, that even though I may feel I haven’t done anything to make her feel confused I have a responsibility to step in and do the right thing by her. They believe, these guys, that the man should take the lead spiritually, not expect the woman to sort herself out. I guess my upbringing is that that’s a bit sexist and, in general, I like to leave people to find their own way. But I think he’s right, and admire his forthrightness in broaching the subject with me. Another great things these guys do in their honesty and openness – for caring for one another is not just in gentleness and smiles, it’s in stepping in when you feel your brother needs a hand and has perhaps wavered from the path. It’s anathema to the modern world, in which we live and let live and let everyone do what they want and make their own mistakes; in which the worst crime is not the crime itself but the apparent ‘judgment’ of the criminal. But I’ve tried that and, for now, I feel morality is the better way and it’s good to have someone tell me when I can step up and do something better. Two heads are better than one – and three, four, five heads infinitely more so. For too long I’ve tried to do everything on my own and I’ve seen where that’s got me. From stories I’ve read these Christians – a certain type of Christian, at least – embrace relationship counselling and enlisting the help of others like no other people I know, and it seems to work. Taking responsibility for one another. You are your brother’s keeper. Something, I think, I’d like to develop more of, and am doing right now.
But now…
10.
Dreams. Dreams from the last week or so. Three dreams in particular, which all came about when in the vicinity of Laura. Saturday and Sunday night I stayed at her house. It was nice and pleasant and comfortable as ever and I got into my usual thing of thinking whether I should make a go of it with her. We took our baths – I’ve decided to knock that on the head though – and, as usual, shared the bed in the platonic nude. And both nights I awoke from dreams of Sophie, my Canadian ex – and on the first night of meeting Grace also – and it shook me so that I realised I was in no position to commit to Laura. Not that the dreams were of a particularly pleasant nature – they weren’t – or meant anything as far as the other women were concerned – but how could I take that step when such were my nightly thoughts? It’s just very weird. And then on the first night that Laura stayed with us in Leeds I dreamed that I saw her murdered and instead of doing anything about it scuttled away with the perpetrators and didn’t help with giving any evidence, just didn’t want to get involved. That’s mean and naughty and, again, more than any literal meaning surely indicative of my feelings of commitment to her. An answer to my questions? Seems so. And seems significant that it always came when she was sleeping close by…
Of course, there is the suggestion that dreams don’t really mean anything, or that they may be more indicative of my fears and fears that I should be working to overcome than my true feelings or answers to my questions. In any case…
11.
A word about my writing. A little while ago my boss called me up with the option of not going into work today, given the light load of deliveries. I took that option and was happy for it, figured it was a good chance to catch up on this writing. Also, though, as I’m writing there are many people buzzing about me in the midst of various community-based projects. The Christians are doing something called ‘June Project’, which means that several dozen of them are going round doing good deeds in the community and being happy and feeding people and clearing gardens and spreading the word and inspiring others, I guess. It’s pretty awesome to see. They’re all so sweet and lovely. They care. They love their Jesus. The kitchen is filled with dozens of crates of food and tons of work is getting done around the place. I missed Day 1 cos I was working and then chatting with Harry. But when I got home I was immediately invited to one of the communal dinners – there are so many people there are about three communal dinners every night – and went round the corner to a house where maybe twenty-five people were eating and so I ate with them too. That was where I caught up with the girl from the bike accident and found out about her hand and where she asked me my whole story about how the healing gift came to me and how that’s worked out over the years. Then from there they all went to the Royal Park pub for a big open mic night – the same pub I first got drunk in well over twenty years ago, and played gigs in when I was eighteen – and they were all lovely and told inspiring stories and it really is great to see all these decent happy young people being all shiny and good. A couple of girls got up and told a story about how the bouncy castle for Saturday’s planned Fun Day had fallen through but then they randomly met a guy who they helped and who wanted to repay them and kept saying, do you want food, do you want money? and they said, no, they’re good for all those things. “Well there must be something you need,” he said, and they said, “well what we really need is a bouncy castle and a couple of generators but we don’t see how we’re going to find those.” And – lo and behold! – he not only possessed a bouncy castle but two generators and would happily loan them to them for free! So that’s pretty awesome. I mean, much as I dispute certain aspects of the Christian theology – the exclusivity, the banning everyone else to a hell that doesn’t even exist no matte how good they are – these are the moments when you also have to acknowledge that God is still working with them and that they are manifesters most excellent. That’s just one example of many. And makes me think…
But that wasn’t really about my writing: what I wanted to say is that I’m trying to get it done and all out of me so I can feel clear and get out there into the sunshine and help them. Also that while I’m sitting here typing there are loads of people and things going on. Or there were; for I’ve now moved onto my bunkbed from the downstairs study to get this done. Except right at this moment two people burst into the room looking for shorts. What I’m trying to say is that these words and this typed life of mine don’t exist in a bubble; that real life is going on too. And that it’s maybe a little weird that I’m sitting here typing self-indulgently while the people I live with are out there doing good things. Also possibly selfish, which with Shawn’s latest reading on my mind is something I’m seeking to look at. But still: get these words out and then I can move on; would only be thinking about it anyway and want to make space for the fresh. Need perhaps more discipline with it. Find the time in the early mornings and sacrifice some lovely but ultimately non-progressive chatter and banter. Funny how life can one day be so empty and devoid of interaction and activity – my last few months in the flat – and then become something completely different. The new something completely different being what I prefer. Which reminds me of Epicurus and how last year I was all into thinking about his ideas for the perfect life and knowing that I had everything except good company and true friends. And how I cried for that and wondered where it was, forever singing the theme tune to Cheers and thinking it an impossibility. How I tossed an I Ching wanting to know “what was next” and how it also pointed towards friendship and like-minded others. I mean, I may not be a Christian – not yet; probably not ever, or at least not this kind – but in the sense of living for a higher cause and sharing and wanting to do good then our minds are very much alike and I dig it. And somewhere in there we can surely find some common ground.
12.
Theology. Theology is a pain. And by theology I mean doctrine and weird old religious ideas and the arguments those things can lead to. I’ve been pretty good with avoiding those things but occasionally I slip and I always wish that I’d been wiser and somehow avoided it. There’s one young guy I find disconcertingly adamant in his beliefs and it’s a bit weird the way he expresses them. So sure and sly and unsettling. He thinks Christianity’s the only way and the Bible true because the Bible tells us so. He thinks other religions are false and that if those religions do good and seemingly lead people to God and to love then that’s the devil’s trickery and really they’ve been led astray. He knows the answer to everything and lacks the self-awareness of, say, Christian, who at least has the humility to recognise when his mind is wrestling and protecting and defensive. He’s the kind of person I should know better than to get into a discussion with but, alas, the other day I slipped and it made me feel yucky. I was only able to disengage by spieling my spiel about how it’s a shame that theology gets in the way of people when aren’t we all just souls looking to experience that place of love and harmony between us and intellectual arguments are just the enemy of that. He might not see it but that’s the way it is. And his trying to convince me, like my trying to convince him is just daft. But it’s for me to master these situations and not get drawn in and be wiser than that.
Must do better.
13.
I really want to stress, though, that all these Christians I’ve suddenly met – and I mean there are dozens and dozens of them – are overwhelmingly great. It’s my nature to focus on the things I find disconcerting or different or interesting in my writing but what it ultimately comes down to is how good and loving and happy they are. And fun-loving too. That’s what it comes down to. What’s in the heart is more important than what’s in the mind. It’s a shame certain aspects of their beliefs are weird but what’s that to me? The positives are awesome and the things they’re giving to the world are great.
I guess that’s all a precursor to what comes next.
14.
I was supposed to perform at the open mic last night. It was a good happy crowd but, alas, a bit too happy for my liking. And in that I mean they were chatting tons and not giving the performers their silence and undivided attention, which is something I need if I’m going to give my heart and soul on stage. Been there too many times when the audience is more interested in talking than listening and not that there’s anything wrong with talking but it doesn’t work for me when I’m doing my thang. Giving your energy in song/word format is precious to me – I wouldn’t engage in a conversation in which the other person was not only not listening but actually talking to someone else and I wouldn’t do that on stage. Performing is like a conversation and it takes two to tango. So I ducked out and came back home to sit in the living room which has been converted and decorated into a large downstairs prayer room. There were four other people there – one being the bike accident girl – and we had a little chat and then they got me to sing a song for them anyway and then we all went into our respective contemplations. Mine was a cross-legged one and silent and the others were reading their Bibles. Then a couple of them started praying out loud in the usual ‘young Christian evangelical manner’ – most sentences begin, “Thank you Lord Jesus” and they smack their lips and say, “yes Lord” and basically project onto God the way they want God to be and work themselves up into a bit of a fervour. Soon enough, glossolalia kicks in – that is, the expulsion of meaningless strings of syllables taken by believers to be an expression of the holy spirit – “speaking in tongues” – and by researchers as a learned, self-induced behaviour. My opinion is that it’s somewhere in the middle, but I’ll get to that later. In any case, one lovely, friendly switched on guy is babbling away and mixing up his “chakalafoosie mantakal etchiegonsa lo mesta kootie” with his “thank you Lord Jesuses” while another Asian girl is doing much the same except laughing kind of hysterically every now and then and, to be honest, it’s getting a little disconcerting. Fascinating, in a weird kind of anthropological kind of way – man, what need to hit up the jungles of Africa to see strange antiquated behaviour and bizarre psychology? is what I’m thinking – but also disturbing. I guess they’d say it’s cos I’m afraid and don’t understand; what I’d say is that, alas, I understand only too well. Anyways, after a bit another girl with bright red hair all young and attractive and funky but, let me tell you, a sincere believer, starts praying over the arm of the bike accident girl and doing really weird movements and then they start uttering nonsense syllables/speaking in tongues (you decide which) and after a few minutes of that I take my leave. Fascinating but enough is enough. I go to the study to send an email or something. Listen to the hyenas as the fervour builds. Shake my head and wonder.
So sweet and loving and lovely. But so mad, too, in certain ways. It’s not a black and white world…
15.
Later on a ton of people come in the house and the living room is filled to bursting and the place is filled with song. The hymns are beautiful. The voices angelic. Their eyes shining bright and joyous in their worship and their praise. Man, they love their Lord Jesus! And listening to that it is infectious and stirs the heart and makes one want to be a part of it. Except then the babbling gibberish rises up again and arms are flung into the air as the spirit moves them. It’s part beautiful expression of divine adoration, part grotesque voodoo trance dance. But at the same time it’s more than that: it becomes clear that, though this ‘speaking in tongues’ is not the spirit moving them it is perhaps a way to get in touch with the spirit when performed with purity. It disengages the mind. It thrusts one purely into the moment, without thought of past or future. And it overcomes all notions of the ego and separation from one another by letting go of inhibition, of judgment, of shame. It performs much the same function as singing with others does, except with more abandon. As sport does, except without the competitiveness and aggression. As sex does, without the lust. To be in the moment. To be free of ego. To not be thinking.
It is, probably, a way to experience something of God, just like mantras, chanting, bhajans, and uttering nonsense are ways to experience God, to get naturally high. I mean, I’m as much as a lover of singing nonsense songs as anyone. It does get you high, disengage the conscious mind, bring one to the present moment. ‘Cept in a sort of drunken, intoxicated way that lacks the focus, perhaps, of meditation.
In any case, that’s why I say glossolalia is perhaps somewhere between the two polarised beliefs of science and religion.
16.
I’ll say again: the singing is beautiful. We’re in a red brick house in the middle of Leeds 6, fairy lights illuminating all for any passerby to see. Singers lost in joyous abandon. Beautiful harmony and beautiful sentiment. It’s a moment where one is transported out of the idea that Leeds is nothing more than a big concrete city where all anyone does is shop and that magic is something that only happens elsewhere. Thirty or forty twenty-something students are creating this while their neighbours drink beer and play Xbox. I could have been sat in another living room a few streets away oblivious on my own computer and wondering where all the real life was and bemoaning when it’s right here all the time. Other mes were doing exactly that last night. But I was the lucky me who was gazing in and seeing it, and smiling on them like one might smile on their children, gladdened by their songs and encouraged to merely know that it exists and is going on. Maybe all the misgivings I voice are true – just maybe – but for certain the goodness is true also.
17.
And is that about it? Recaps of at least ten percent of recent events? Details of decisions regarding romance and Greece ? Do need to sort out the question of career – weirdly had three phonecalls in the last couple of days from totally unlinked careers places asking me how I’m doing with that – but just haven’t had the time to look at it. What more? Resolutions to abstain from theological discussions characterised by tension. Plenty of thoughts of Shawn’s reading and the desire to write about that somewhat – and, more importantly, act on it. And, just having had a quick look, the realisation that I’ve pretty much ticked off that to-do list I made the other day. Apart from now owning about two thousand pounds worth of guitar that I ought to get around to selling. Do that and I’ll have nearly four and a half grand in the bank. The money situation’s getting a bit ridiculous. Outgoings are minimal – bunkbed rent is only thirty quid a week – and it just keeps growing. Does make me wonder why I’m working when there are perhaps better things I could be doing with my time and knowing that I would have headed on that pilgrimage in Greece had I not been. But then there’s my answer right there: for it has kept me in Leeds and staying in Leeds has been good. Remember when I was all messed up and having that “mid-life crisis” and broken-hearted over romance? Seems like a memory from another lifetime right now. I mean, once again, no matter what misgivings I might have over Christianity and the weirdness of some of those beliefs – well, God bless my new young friends and the love and morality they have demonstrated to me, which was just what I was crying out for and in need of. And…
18.
I wonder…I have an urge to talk to the bike accident girl and the red-headed girl – dyed red hair – and ask them about what they were doing in the prayer room last night. Question is, in a nutshell, did it work? Cos as we’ve seen there’s more to these things than fervent belief and, ultimately, the proof is in the pudding.
I’m excited to think of where this all might lead. But then, I’ve been excited before, and I’ve learned to temper that and just breathe…
19.
There are a couple of guys I’ve talked with in recent days who are asking questions and you can tell they’re asking questions and, alas, they’re somewhat on the outside because of it. Not that they’re asking questions out loud or to the others but I can see what’s going on with them. I like it. There’s something real and human about it. Acknowledging the truth of what they’re feeling rather than merely repeating what they’ve been told to feel. The thinking brain switches off when presented with glib repeated statements of religion. But then, nothing of what I’ve just said is new.
20.
Also, a couple of guys are making a video documentary of the whole thing. I wish they’d been here when the speaking in tongues was going on. But probably there’ll be plenty of opportunities to catch that. It does look like the maddest thing when caught on film; I watched a video from America of it on youtube where children were being coerced into it and it struck me as terrifying and sad. Anyways, the video guys were asking me why I believed in God and I told them about my first experiences back in the day in Mexico . Naturally, me being me, I felt compelled to provide an overly-long backstory and waffled on much more than I should have but, there you go, what can do, does kind of seem to be my nature. So much for the concision I promised right at the beginning of these words! Something else I might want to work on too, he lols.
21.
Okay. So I think that’s pretty much it for today. Definitely feel caught up. No more questions. Time to get out and do something. Time to eat and see what reality I get presented with now. It’s nice not knowing what the future brings, what surprise is around the corner. Nice to be living one day, one hour, one decision at a time. Getting more and more into that flow that Shawn’s reading spoke of, trying to let go of the requirements of my goof of a mind. The future will shape itself. Being here today wasn’t planned and that’s worked out pretty great. In fact, pretty much nothing of anything great I’ve ever done was planned so what does that tell you? Probably that John Lennon was right.
But: let’s stop waffling and move on. Enough.
Cheers! :-)
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