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 biggest challenge yet…

I’ve been ‘trying’ for years. Literally, the past 10 years I’ve had in my head ‘I want to write a book’. I’ve tried. Many occasions, many ideas, many notebooks, many drafts, many hours and many word counts later… no book.

Am I approaching this whole book writing malarkey the wrong way? I’ve an ADHD brain and more often than not, that means doing things a little differently to how we’ve been taught, the ‘how to‘ doesn’t always apply to an ADHDer as it’s gotta utterly click. I can’t persevere. I’m not lazy, not all but I can’t just grit my teeth and get through it. I’ve tried that approach also and it sucks the life outta me. Why the fudge am I taking something that I love and making a hard to chew, fibrous meal out of it.

So, a new approach I shall try.

Firstly, word count. I was aiming at 1000 words with every sit down. I’m taking that pressure off the list as I’d not bother to even sit down and try if I felt failure before I began. Let’s take 1000 to 500 and if I manage 100, that’s bloody brilliant too as if those 100 words were 100 pounds, I’d be more than happy to see that accumulate over time.

Secondly, distractions. Im gonna get distracted. There is no way that I can sit for 2 hours and not get the urge to move or do something else quickly to shift attentions. So, let’s celebrate the distractions as part of the process, part of the flow. Maybe that distraction is allowing an idea to marinate. Maybe I need to move in order to allow a newness, a fresh sense of perspective to inspire my writing.

Which flows into thirdly, it needs to feel alive. Something I’m learning about the way I work creatively is that what comes through me has to feel like it’s got a life of it’s own. It’s breathing. A current that wants to move me and others in a very embodied and present way. The writing almost needs to feel like an organism that beats to its own drum. That without me, it still breathes and I’m purely channelling what’s already dancing around the ether. Basically the ideas are not mine but I give them life, in only a way I can, just as each artist has their stroke and each writer has their style, it’s all valid but there’s a uniqueness to explore within divine expression.

And with that, I know I’m to start on something new. I’ve been churning old stories over and over and it’s sat a little flat on the page. I can’t seem to let go of ‘but I wrote 30,000 words on this story’ and it’s been like a fudging chain. I can write 30,000 words again, or maybe I won’t and that’s ok too. Maybe I’ll write 15,000 and that will be enough, maybe.

Leap of faith! Whatever needs to come through, will come through (let’s make it good though 😅). Let’s get honest too, what do I actually want to write about, not what I think would look good on the page. That’s a flipping scary thought. Art is truth and that ain’t always pretty!

If I need to lay bare, I need to lay bare. HUGE respect for all the creatives who live their art and their art breathes life into others. Yes, I think I’m ready to step out of the safety box, I think.

Let’s see what happens….

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.

What’s normal anyway?

The more I read about neurodiversity, the more I wonder where the bar of normal is. Is there a brain, a neurotypical brain in a laboratory somewhere where ALL activities within our brain are compared against? How was the concept of normal structured and who, with what brain, decided upon the activities within a brain that would warrant a label if it were different from said ‘normal’ brain.

I know, a lot of questions for a Friday. Fridays are ease down days, getting ready for the weekend days. But who the flip developed the concept of weekends and working days anyway! As is apparent, I’m questioning everything.

As Seal said ‘we’re never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy’. The 90’s, my dream days. The days of my prime developmental growth. The days when I felt ok to want to be something ‘out there’. I used to visualise hitch-hiking across America, that was my dream. To live so freely that I didn’t own anything. And that felt ok. It felt do-able. Now, it doesn’t. I’m going a bit off topic here but the point is, I feel the concept of normal has become really narrow, hardly anyone fits it but it’s STILL used to measure our behaviour. Technology has much to with our modern concepts of reality, for sure. It’s opened up so much but narrowed the human existence also. The need for a phone and computer and tablet and WiFi and apps and SO MUCH SECURITY. I never remember my passwords and have to constantly reset them. I never understand why I can’t just talk to people and computer always says NO. So, back to this normal, neurotypical brain, are we consistently living within a constricted reality? If it wasn’t computers it was industry or some other way society was finding ways to ‘progress’. And is idealisation of normal purely compliance to rules within each and many eras of evolution? This then leads to capitalism but that’s another post.

And the irony is, it would have been the neurotypical brain that catapulted us outta one era, into another. It was the neurotypical brain that invented the machine, the computer. Medical advances – neurotypical thinking! And still today, ‘advances’ we’re seeing daily will be springboarding from neurotypicals. The artists, the poets, the novelist, the dancer… need I say more.

So, ‘we’re never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy’ is genius, the truest words. Thanks Seal! Crazy is what’s keeping the human existence beating. Crazy is the electricity that keeps humanity creating. Crazy IS our survival.

So, what’s normal anyway?

ADHD-er for life

I’ve not written in a LONG time as, well, writing is HARD! And you may not be one-tincy bit bothered as who am I but an occasional writer of stuff who rocks up every now and again on WordPress. And the hard time I’ve given myself about NOT writing as much as I’d set out to at the beginning of my not-quite-writing career has been mega. So, I gave up the concept of writing as I thought ‘writing is HARD so it can’t be natural for me to do it therefore I am NOT a writer.‘

But…

Turns out, writing isn’t the hard thing. Concentrating is. Because turns out, I’ve ‘got’ ADHD.

I’m 39 so this is a later in life discovery for me. and I’m not one for labels and a few years ago I would have literally turned my back to any ‘diagnosis’ as I was living in a deep ‘I’m so fucking spiritual’ world.

But…

OH MY LORD. The past 18 months has been wild, for everyone. I don’t know a single soul not influenced and effected by what’s been unfolding. And for me, it’s been spectrum realisations. And also letting go of ‘I’m so fucking spiritual’ because reality check, I’m just as spiritual as a fly and flea.

In the last year my dad has discovered his Autism (which brought its own healing) and consequently this led to MUCH hyper focused research on my part into neurodiversity as, well I like to feel like I’m knowing something about something. I felt like a nodding dog when reading the stories shared by women who also had a later diagnosis of ADHD. ‘Wait, that’s ME! I bloody align with everything they’re saying!’ HERE.is.my.TRIBE.

And the thing it, it’s not about needing the label of ADHD. It’s about a discovery of WHY my life has been sculpted the way it has by me. WHY I’ve felt so much like an alien in many social and working environments. WHY I’ve found committing to any relationship so flipping difficult. WHY I couldn’t hold down a job. WHY I couldn’t complete projects, any project unless I literally had someone holding my ass up telling me I CAN, and that only came through course after course after course. WHY I can’t focus for more than 30 mins without needing to move, get up, sing, shout, stare out the window or do a wee just to see a different set of walls.

Bloody hell, the realisation has been a revelation to say the least. And it goes deeper, much deeper. I had my assessment a few weeks ago and I’ve been ‘diagnosed’ with combined type. And this is what I think I’ll be writing more about, the neurodiversity spectrum. The WHOLE spectrum because as it turns out, nothing I thought to be fixed about me, is. Now begins the process of integration and re-evaluation of my life, my expectations, my self-belief system. It’s ALL different. The grief is real. The shock is real. The excitement about how these shifts will ripple through my entire reality, is REAL.