Thursday, 31 July 2014

Betweem me and you-and-me poem

Between me and you-and-me

On my way
To meet you again

I travel
Therefore I am

And apart

I become
A curious me
Being alone

Wednesday, 30 July 2014

The Boss consults Q his spiritual director

- You know Q there are difficulties in my life at the moment.
- Hmm.
- Yeah, I don’t really fit into things that well. I feel a bit on the edge of things. I’m currently seeing a few old mates, trying to develop more of a social life after giving myself over to my work for so long. But it’s not easy. And…
- And?
- And I am finding church difficult.
- Ah!
- Yeah. I long for a sense of spiritual and human belonging. I can feel connected to people during worship and when we sing but I have lost the sense of a human connection – how to talk about me, my love, my hopes, my fears, my spirituality. I used to like being anonymous, lost in the midst of the congregation but now it is like I don’t exist. I don’t seem to mean anything to anyone anymore. Occasionally I still attend a service and people briefly welcome back and then that’s that….It’s painful.
Q nodded. The Boss fell silent and a tear ran down is cheek. He brushed it away and got out a hankerchief and rubbed his eyes.
- That sounds a really tough place to be.
- It is…. I feel so stupid….What’s wrong with me?
- Hm…. Maybe God wants you to experience this.
- But why?
- Who knows? For your own good, maybe for the good of others… What else can you do?
- Nothing (The Boss sighed) I can be nowhere else… I still believe, help my lack of belonging.
- Oh Boss. (A heartfelt sigh from Q).
The Boss smiled grimly. At least he felt heard, felt received by Q in his painful position.

But this time the silence in Q’s stud did not have its usual healing impact on the Boss. He found himself weeping bitter tears. And only gradually did his sobs fade away into an uneasy silence.

Monday, 28 July 2014

Mystic bit (July)

A somewhat dishevelled Paul was at Manchester airport terminal 3 to pick up his old mate Frankie. A dishevelled look was not unusual for Paul either a consequence of long hours on a stakeout or a night at Ms place where he refused to store any clothes – fearing it would signal a commitment that he did not yet want to make.

Frankie was coming home from Chicago and his plane was 2 hours late. The cappuccino that Paul had drunk had left a bitter taste in his mouth and already he was bored with the latest issue of Private Eye and with the overloud dull one sided conversation of a middle aged Yank at a nearby table. Paul never travelled with his computer or tablet. Often his work got a bit physical and in any case he left the fancy electronic side of his work to App in the Fuel Café.

Paul found himself musing on last night with M. A visit to Band on the Wall for some cool jazz had been an aural treat but the conversation back at Ms place had turned sour as she once more addressed his lack of commitment.
- The thing is Paul neither of us are getting any younger.
Paul shrugged, not wanting to encourage her.
- And sooner or later I need you to commit.
Paul nodded.
- Understood?
- Understood.
M sighed wearily and offered him a brandy.
- Best not, I’m picking Frankie up first thing at the airport.

Things went quiet, too quiet, and despite their physical closeness in bed there was a real distance between them. The trouble was Paul didn’t want to commit but nor did he want to lose M. It felt like a choice was being forced on him and he wondered what would Frankie say? He knew already ‘Keep it light, stick with your truth, be you, not what the other person wants.’ ’That’s all very well but what if I lose her?’ ‘You’ve lost her already if it means you’re giving up on you to be with her.’
- Oh shit!
An elderly woman sat nearby was startled by his profanity.
- Oops… sorry said Paul blushing. She smiled in return.