God, are you confused too?

Times are fucking weird, aren’t they. My response = I quit social media. I needed too. My nervous system needed it. My mental health needed it. My physical body needed it. My faith needed it.

I’ve resisted the break. I thought if I wasn’t connected to all the troubles, not just global troubles but internal struggles that get spoken about at length on social, I thought I’d be even more distant to humanity than I’ve felt over the past few years. I truly believed social media was my connector, my electricity. It was the food my being needed to be a part of something, a part of something bigger and my belonging. I’ve been moaning about social media for years then one morning, during meditation, the day after a total shit show of a mini breakdown I seem to get more regularly than desired, I heard “the world has enough confusion, do the rebellious thing and liberate yourself, stop asking for help when you already know what to do!”

God can be brutal, right? There’s no fluffy language or beating around the bush, the truth is most often laid out in bold capitals. My response is most often “I hear you God, but what else can I do? Give me something, anything other than what you’ve just told me, anything! (But not that)”

And it’s fucking hard work. I wear myself out, and I don’t think this is my lone fight. I think most humans do. If God is in ALL, then surely God is in the confusion too? Is the universe confused, or have us humans created a meaning, a constant way of being that basically equates to a momentary ‘and now what?’ Momentary being the jewel here. That crossroad decision that when we take the road, we take the road. The looking back is the conflict. Is God the conflict too? I presume so as what can exist without the breath of God, God being creation itself. So if humans feel it, if they act on it, it has to be part of creation. And do you ever feel ‘where did it all go wrong?’ I do! Yet God always seems to reply with “you’re not wrong!”

And what the fudge do I with that?

“God, I think I am wrong. I think humans get it wrong all the time! Maybe you’re wrong about this” Of course, I seem to believe I understand more than the force that turns this whole flipping planet.

The arguments with God can become teenage years triggering. Worse actually, as the conflict is with you, in you, about you and how you see things. Not through another humans eyes, which when the news was broken to me that my parents were in fact human beings, not perfect ethereal beings, destroyed a part of my blame stick I so heavily relied on for balance. Balance went, blame had to diminish (a work in progress) and I was left feeling like I was walking on one leg. “God, please be my other leg!” to which God replied, “I’ll be the beat of your heart, the pulse in your veins, your breathe, the lungs to breath, the imagination, the inspiration, your strength which is never gone, even when you feel broken. I’ll be the voice that always lets you know no human is without sadness and suffering, that you’re never alone’.

That’s great God, but I only asked for a leg!

One part God, the other part human struggle, just to really martyr myself. Social media validated that for me. All the struggle, all the pain, the need to be seen and liked to feel truly connected and alive. Oh to have a strong opinion about everything. That is truly satisfying, pushing the debate your way. I AM RIGHT. God giggles “you’re not wrong but you’re not right either!”

The confusion! Faith can feel totally and utterly bonkers sometimes, most times actually. The more I prayed for clarity, the stronger the conflict. Until that morning when I had no energy to argue and quit ALL social media accounts. Then love began a small expedition from one leg to the spine to the arm, maybe, in time.

The confusion continues, I think it may be the addiction to confusion itself I now have to lean into. But hey, at least the social media battle has been extinguished, and I honestly feel softer and more aligned than I have in years.

Do you think God gets confused and conflicted about humanity? According to the Old Testament, yes. I guess in the eyes of love, there is no right nor wrong, just like God’s been endlessly trying to communicate. There’s one legs worth of support should you choose it, there’s also a whole body full of infinite support and guidance waiting to feel acknowledged, one day, when we’re ready. I suppose God does get confused if we want to see things that way, god gets mad and conflicted, if that’s how we want to justify our one leg of Love. There’s no right or wrong way to be in God, I’m beginning to believe that. God meets humans where we’re at.

God, are you confused too? I hope so becuase I’ll meet you there.

The Pain

The brown, stagnant blood down my thighs, soaking my pants.

The spear through my side, unexplainable with no negotiation.

The salt, stinging, streaming down my cheeks.

Lungs like full vacuum cleaner bags.

Feet like swollen warts.

Sharpness travelling up my calves and down my shins, through hopeful walks and dying tries.

My spine, a broken necklace.

My neck, a frozen hinge.

Through the pain I continue to live.

Forgetting to ask for relief, I continue to live.

Freedom

The last few months…who am I kidding, the last 18 months, has got me assessing what freedom actually means, to me. I’ve not thought too much about freedom before as I realise the super privilege position I’ve been in. I’ve lived a life, be it not always within mental dynamics, that’s felt on the most part, free.

I could decided upon where to go and with who. Yes, I know we can get woven into relationships that once explored can have us questioning just how free we are around certain people, but without the intensity of that exploration, we can mainly choose our people.

So much has happened during this pandemic to send our nervous systems into a spin. Control has been taken away, we’ve been told how to behave and where to go and with who (or with no-one) and death, we’re exposed to figures and realisations, every day. I know you know this, we’re ALL in this. These experiences are not individual. This trauma has not just been affecting the separate self. It never has but we’ve liked to think it was. For centuries the notion of communicating our struggles and fears was kept ‘secret’. And as the world has begun to open up, due to whatever reason (social media, global connectivity etc) about just how complex and uniting our personal struggles are, we witness many of our anxieties and human responses to environmental stressors are indeed, shared. And now this global pandemic, this shared experience of restrictions and fear and doing things we’d have shook our head to a few years ago. Not only are we all in it, but we’re talking about it, globally, and maybe this is the most exposed we’ve ever been to collective trauma as information is instant now, from all corners of the world.

But…

Within these restrictions and difficulties of feeling personal choices not being so personal anymore, something incredibly expansive has happened, personally (and probably to many others too).

My faith has strengthened, big style! My relationship with God is my favourite. My meditation practice has also lengthened (because there was literally fuck all else to do!) and I’m not sure I would have found out about my ADHD brain if I’d not had such an intense time of reflection. I live with my folks, and as a 39 year old living with both her parents, the struggle has been REAL. It’s also been super healing and I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so whole and surrendered as I do now.

I can’t even explain it as I’m under no illusion, I know shit is gonna get tougher . We’re not outta the woods, and maybe we never will be. Maybe humans are supposed to be in the overgrowth. With the trees and ferns and weird bacteria that live on EVERYTHING and because we can’t see it, we forget it’s there.

I know the mystics talk about freedom being within our faith. Within our relationship with God. And boy, does it take a leap of faith to say ‘God, I know NOTHING. You do. Show me.’ And then you’re shown this shit show of ‘difficulty’ because you weren’t flipping listening and you begin to listen and then this incredible thing happens… we get dunked into unexplainable freedom for literally a few moments until it’s gone again. Yet I have more and more faith it’ll be back, when God sees fit.

So freedom, it’s a funny thing. I feel so grateful to live in a time when restrictions from government still includes access to lattes and fresh fruit and chocolate (for now, anyway). I’ve not starved and my home has been a safe haven, which I know for many is not the case. Not even sure I care that I can’t go to many places as my brain doesn’t like too much choice anyway, it’s chaotic enough without adding more decisions! So I’m lucky. I’m privileged to be able to reflect upon freedom as the act of reflection itself and the time to do so is, in my eyes, freedom.

So, maybe my freedom hadn’t been taken away at all. I got to see just how flipping lucky I am to say ‘I can’t so this right now but I will. For now, I meditate’… as I write this, I’m becoming utterly aware of just how free I actually am.

What does Love even mean?

Happy Monday!

Diving deep, what does Love even mean?

HA!

So, this Love word pops up EVERYWHERE.

All you need is Love. God is Love. Return to Love. We are Love. Love is our eternal being. I LOVE you.

And I love the word Love but what am I loving? The concept of love is super appealing, isn’t it. That we are beings radiating an energy that EVERY ONE is aspiring to feel or to be. That when we Love, it’s smooth. It’s a ride we’ve been lining up for our whole lives. We spend time, money, effort, we dedicate ourselves, often without conscious thought to this concept of Love and being in it or being it.

WHAT IS IT? Because I’m betting it means something for you that it doesn’t for me. And the feeling of it when we meet someone and we say those words, I love you, that’s tangible, isn’t it. It’s almost something we can touch and taste and the feeling is beyond overwhelming. Love songs and romcoms and poetry, we mostly resonate with the attraction thing. Lust, right. It gets in the way, or it is the way. I dunno but I fucking love lusting. I also know it’s not what we’re taught in spiritual teachings Love to be.

God is Love. Now, that’s not so tangible. And ALL the Love references in New Age stuff and quotes that float the internet like feathers in the breeze. That’s muddier. I get it, unconditional love. Really though, have we EVER loved unconditionally? Is it an unattainable concept… and is that the point, make it totally unattainable for the human and they’ll spend their whole lives feeling crap as they’re never quite getting ‘there’. Talk about guilt. Not just a catholic thing, huh.

And to not love things, material stuff as much as you love an idea, a concept, well they both feel as empty as each other if I’m honest.

So, what does Love mean?

Is it so fluid that it’s not meant to mean any more than it means to you in the moment you’re feeling it. And is it an expression, a momentary need, like when we graze ourselves and we scab. Love is the scabbing, the protection as cells come together and heal.

Love heals. We’re not in states of Love all the time. I can get so flipping angry some days and that’s bloody healing too. Anger heals. Imagine that. To not be afraid of anger, to see it as vital as Love. Is Love conditioning as we’re less likely to lash out. Less likely to disrupt others. To question. Oh, to question. Love is blind.

Humans have created the word Love. And like everything we create, it’s open to interpretation. I’ve Loved so hard I would fight for it. I’ve Loved so hard I would crack and die a little if I didn’t have it anymore. And I have. So, maybe Love is the container with ALL the other emotions. Or maybe Love is whatever the fuck you want it to be.

Being Ordinary

I AM outstandingly ordinary.

Totally ordinary and doing it to the best of my ability.

I once wanted to be EXTRA-ordinary, in a way we’re fed being extra-ordinary is. And by the way, being extra-ordinary is different to being EXTRA, I AM extra and not afraid to say 🙂

We’re fed that extra-ordinary is having a ton of money and being noticed or having a career that means ‘something’. Or now, in these modern days, being an activist or social influencer totally makes you ‘somebody’.

Being a star, being watched and admired and reflected upon. I wanted that, when I was a rebel-do-care teenager. Wanting all that didn’t go away either, everything I did during my 20’s, there was always a “does this make me somebody?” “Am I standing out?” “What am I going to gain from doing this?” “Can I make MORE money?” 

And I’m not too sure how making money makes you extra-ordinary but it seems to carry that weight and I was first in line to hold that lie, totally convinced I’d be happy, only when I was extra-ordinary and proving myself.

Proving to who? I’m thinking about that as I’m typing, who was I trying to prove something to?

The WORLD!… I would have said that back then.

I am standing tall, with ‘success’ beneath my feet and people wanting to ‘be’ me. Totally laughable now, who the hell did I think I wanted to be? God maybe? Some kind of capitalist warmonger? I would have totally argued against the latter in my 20’s. 

“I am a really nice person!… but fucking LOVE me and think of me more than you think of yourself!”

It was absolutely that extreme, and if humans were totally honest with themselves, about 80% of our daily thoughts are pretty irrational and extreme, without our even noticing. 

Example A: Years ago, I woke up during the night, I’d just moved into a flat in London so it was all new. It was a flat share, and I was the first to move in so I was alone that night. I couldn’t sleep as I never do someplace new and every noise had me jumping out of my skin. I decided, now dosed up to the eyeballs in fear, to get a glass of water as that’s what people do through the night when they’re terrified and living in a horror movie, and in my mind, my life at the very moment was being written by Stephen King.

There was a flashing blue light coming from the bathroom. 

What the hell is that? 

By this point I was utterly petrified and had come to the unquestionable conclusion it was aliens. They’d landed in my little east London flat and wanted to take me away to experiment on me. I crept to the door, as you do, because again in horror films they always creep towards danger and mass murderers. I flung the door open as my heart skipped a beat.

It was my electric toothbrush on charge. 

Oh yeah, it does that. I remembered.

Point is, our thoughts are more often than not, irrational. 

This need I had to be extra-ordinary was a lot like walking towards the blue flashing light… flipping scary (because honestly, who thrives with that level of responsibility, being extra-ordinary to those outside of themselves), turning out to be not what I originally thought it to be (a story created by my focus of attention, blown up and morphed into this cosmic, otherworldly creation) and once the cover is blown, it’s totally something ‘normal’ and ‘everyday’ and gets kind of same-same and part of life after while.

Extra-ordinary is ordinary jazzed up with glitter and disco balls. People, for sure, do extra-ordinary things but again, extra-ordinary is what many do in an ordinary day like be a wonderful friend, or love their child, or adopt an animal or human, or choose to smile more than frown in a day, or grieve, or walk or breathe! (being alive is extra-ordinary!) 

Is this ‘preachy’? I’m becoming more and more conscious of how we have an idea about something, like an ‘ah-ha’ moment and think ‘this has to be HEARD!’… we share like we’re the gurus who know-it-all and boom, you’ve just contributed to this ever-expanding self-help culture that can feel over-opinionated, and extremely confusing, on the daily. 

BUT 

Sharing can be extremely helpful and healing too.

Side note: I have a lentil pie in the oven which I’m very excited to eat in about 10 minutes. Overshare? No such thing in this day and age, right?

Food, eating, enjoying it, now that is EXTRA-ORDINARY!

I’m off to eat pie.