The Boss consults Q his spiritual director once more

The Boss consults Q his spiritual director once more

- Hi Boss.
- Hi Q.
They both settle down into Q’s comfortable chairs, not quite facing one another. There is a tense silence as Q waits.
- I’m finding Christmas very difficult.
- Hmm, Q nods.
- Yes, it is the lack of compassion, the lack of common sense, the lack of wit and wisdom, the whole mess of things…
Q waits.
- How can you take it? .... How can you be silent?
Q smiles enigmatically.
- Don’t smile at me!
Q laughs.
- That’s not helpful!
- I know but you either curse the darkness or light a candle.
- Is that so (sarcastically) … Is that enough?
- No, but it is important to act in as many ways as possible and lighting a candle and saying a prayer is a start and may lead one to more considered, possibly more successful actions.
- Hmm, said the Boss, but I want a better world and I want it now!
- Me too!
- Oh ….
- Why ever not? …The question is how?
The Boss nods - I know my actions are not enough but sometimes I get so frustrated!
- Me too!
- Oh.
- Yes.
- What does God want?
- Do you really want my answer to that?
- Please!
- Love.
- Love?
- Love of self, love of others, love of the planet.
- How?
- Try it out with the next person you meet, but gently!

Gibbs is too mch for me - poem

Gibbs is too much for me

I’m walking down the street
In my long black coat
And I become Neil Tennant

But I’m not singing West End Girls
Like in the video
Instead Can’t Take My Eyes Off You

And I never become Gibbs from NCIS
Even though this who I am
For my daughter, in this coat

Gibbs is too much for me
I wouldn’t mind becoming Gibbs
But I am not there … yet.

Musing

For the last 20 or so years until recently I was working full-time some of it evenings and weekends (and never quite got the time back) pre-occupied with my work and the parts of it that I really enjoyed - all those academic papers and books wot I wrote that a few hundred people read.

Actually the best bit was my students and being able to work with them for several years on projects that mattered to them and to me. God I was and am thankful for that opportunity!

Now I have time to stop and stare and I notice so much. I was walking back from the Coop today thinking about my choir outflit and whether black cords would work (heaven forbid!) and for a few minutes picked up on the attire of the people passing me by, really individual, different 'tribes'! It can of had a language, an expression.

Some times, some days I notice the strain in people's faces, very poignant when it is a young mum. I can become aware of those who need a good shoulder to cry on. My life changed when I suddenly could see beneath people's masks back in 1973 - but that is another story!

Gifts

Last Thursday went to a great writing group at Gaskell House. The encourage you to write between classes. This a recent piece, no surprises in it for my friends but for me its the voicing of it that matters:

GIFTS

I don’t know what I was meant to do. All I knew was that I had to escape my family and the small town I grew up in. I needed a job and computing seemed to be the coming thing in the late 60s.

Looking back I realised that I found out who I was retrospectively by looking back at what I did. But I never knew what I would stick at. I always wanted to be able to say ‘I am a whatever – medic, teacher, carpenter, builder, father, grandfather, husband’.

So I guess that I have gifts but I was never brought up or taught how to recognise them. First one in the family to go to university – it’s a cliché but no-one told me you can never go back.

So I moved on losing friends with no care in the world. Every new step forward was the loss of the old life, like shedding a skin or sometimes becoming a butterfly.

And now another transformation is in progress. It is simple to say ‘I am retired’ but it is not a state it’s a process and I am not sure what is merging from the chrysalis.

And I walk on - poem

And I walk on

It rained
And rained
I tried to dodge it
It caught me.

The sun came out
And so did a rainbow
My heart lit up
And I thought of you.

It rained
And rained
I took shelter
And a cappuccino
And thought of you.

You are so close to me now
If I reach out
I could touch you
I believe
But I know this is not true

It rained
And rained
And my cheeks are wet
With rain and tears
I shake myself dry
And I walk on.

Whitby poem

Whitby

1.The first time I saw you
The light took me by surprise
And the smell of fish
It’s fresh crisp taste.

2.You took me to Whitby
A rite of passage
And I fell in love
Though we were never sure.

3.I took you to Whitby
We were in love
And it was part of our web.

4.And the time of the car chase
That ended in wingless flight
You forced open the car door
As the policeman looked on
God you were gone too soon!

5.I clamber up to the ruined Abbey
And feel the history
The fever and the pain
And it’s all past now

But I still have the photos
On my wall
And I wonder
Where are you now?

The Boss consults Q his spiritual director once more

The Boss consults Q his spiritual director once more

- Being the Boss has been my identity …. if I cease to be the Boss who am I?
- How about father, husband, grandfather, friend, son-in-law?
- Yes, yes, but that doesn’t do it for me!
- Oh no? Q raised a sceptical left eyebrow.
- Well ….you know what I mean… of course all those roles and people are important to me … and if anyone of them needed me more…
- You would?
- I would make myself available.
- But that’s not enough for you?
- No, said the Boss flatly. There was a silence, an uneasy silence, in which the Boss coughed but remained silent. Q broke the silence with a question.
- What would be enough?
- I dunno, maybe some new role, some project …I can’t just persue my hobbies.
- No?
- No, said the Boss decisively.
- What might God say?
- Hmm, I have been praying in my own way but there’s only been silence.
- Can you wait?
- I am not a patient man but I guess I have no choice.
Q nodded and there was another more peaceful silence. The Boss sighed and breathed out for once just resting in the silence. It was, and had to be, enough for now.

Walking down the street - poem

Walking down the street
Grateful again
For the colours of the flowers and the trees

In a traditional English café in Levenshulme
With a huge slab of Amethyst
Oh my!
The energy is still there.

Kind of flirting
With the transsexual woman
Welcoming me to the new church

Touched by such simple and small things
On my way to oblivion
But living as much as I can
In the moment
With what is in front of me

I move on

I move on

Walking in treacle
On opiates again
Vivid dreams
Awake and asleep

Dead bodies in the bath
And cliff edge horrors
I’m falling through the sky
Crashing towards the ground
Shit-less scared
Death is coming soon

I move on.

Eisteddfod

When I was a difficult teenager my dad blamed it on my ‘Welsh blood’. My mum had a Welsh Grandfather Thomas Lewis who was a Baptist minister. I also had a godmother Nancy who was Welsh and who I loved dearly. She was always ready to listen to me. Her father was an unemployed miner so her parents moved to Kidderminster in the 1930s for a new life. I became pro Welsh and associated ‘unacceptable’ parts of who I am with being part Welsh. For example I was, and still am, too emotional for a typical Englishman of my time! I planned at some point in my life to live in Wales and learn the language. I was horrified when I read how, in Victorian times, school children were punished for speaking Welsh in school! Then I read about how one of the unemployment marches from Wales were greeted by crowds of Welsh people who had moved to Stroud. And Manchester had a Welsh speaking area in Victorian times. Today there is still so much casual racism against the Welsh, supposedly humorous! Anyway tomorrow my choir will be singing at the Eisteddfod, again something I always planned to visit but not sing at. Wow, this is going to be special.

Encounters with homeless men

Encounters with homeless men (from my Facebook page)

22nd January 2016. Saw a new young man begging near Costa and thought I would give me some money after I came out but it was raining and he had gone. Then later I was given a free cappacino at the Uni. So I need to Carpe Diem, seize the day.

2nd February. Young man begging outside the coffee shop 8am. I come out and put £2 into his paper cup. He thanks me and gives me a deep look - he's seen me and seen me seeing him. Something real has happened. I am touched by his look, it was not anguish, he was not pleading it was 2 humans connecting.

21st April. So on my one day a week at the Uni I call in Costa for a coffee and sandwich. There is often a young man begging outside and I have got in the habit of giving him a couple of quid and one time exchanged deep eye contact. which I wrote about previously So today I finally plucked up the courage (don't ask!) to talk to him and asked him if he had a place to stay. No, he is on a waiting list for a hostel since November and he keeps going back to nudge them and he has heard it takes 4 or 5 months. I am shocked and hope that he has fallen through the net as I don't want to believe that Manchester would leave people like him on the streets over winter. Any of you out there, especially Mancunians, can update? He is keen to get his act together and find work.

5th May. Just saw the young homeless man outside Costa who I have written about here before. The good news is that at last he has an appointment next Tuesday for a possible hostel place. He hopes not to see me again. I hope so too. He crossed himself saying this. I have learnt things from him. Firstly it is not enough just to give money. There is a person on the other side of that interaction. Sparing a few words as well as a bit of money is important for both involved. This is part of my new post Uni life - neighbourliness.

14th May. Glad not to see him – homeless poem

Young man begging outside the coffee shop 8am.
I come out and put £2 into his paper cup.
He thanks me and gives me a deep look
- He's seen me and seen me seeing him.
Something real has happened.
I am touched by his look,
It’s not anguish,
He’s not pleading
It’s two humans connecting.

Some weeks pass
And I get in the habit of
Giving him a couple of quid
Today I finally puck up the courage
To talk to him
Have you anywhere to stay?
No but I’m on a waiting list for a hostel
It’s been 5 months
I keep going back to them.

I’m appalled
5 wintry months sleeping in a car park
I hope he’s fallen through the net
This is Manchester 2016
Surely we wouldn’t leave people on the streets over winter?

Just saw the young homeless man again
He has an appointment next Tuesday
And hopes never to see me again
I hope so too
He crosses himself

He has taught me
It’s not enough to just give money
There is a person on the other side
Sparing a few words is important too
For both of us

It’s Wednesday 8am now
And there is a space outside the coffee shop
And he’s not there
I miss him
But I am glad not to see him.

18th May. Met my young homeless man on the streets again. Found out his name is Chris and that there was a mix up over dates but he still has his interview for a possible hostel place in the next few days. If he does not get a place it will knock him back. I truly hope not to see him again!

31st May. So my young homeless man Chris was not outside Costa first thing this morning so it looks like he has his hostel place! In his place is a mature man I have seen and given too before. He looks too intelligent to be on the streets(!) I was going to talk to him but a young women had beaten me to it, so another time. Anyway, I gave him a couple of quid and he was thankful and wished me a good day. I replied 'you're welcome'. It's a start.

10th June 2016. Speaking to people on the streets whether homeless or neighbours unknown is an invite into relationship, into being. I relate therefore I am. For me the universe/God(dess) does this when I am open. Chris, the homeless young man was not outside Costa again this morning so it seems pretty sure he has got his hostel place. Later I talked with John a more older man who I have given money to a few times. I asked him if he had a place to sleep and he replied he went to the airport and that sometimes a church helped him. He was quite talkative and we shook hands when I left him. I think he has his wits about him but I just wonder if this is his best choice?

Frozen poem

Frozen

It hurt me to hug you
Nothing personal
Frozen shoulder

Looking for a reason
A cause
Something or someone to blame

But so what?
It hurts is all

Glad not to see him - homeless poem

Glad not to see him – homeless poem

Young man begging outside the coffee shop 8am.
I come out and put £2 into his paper cup.
He thanks me and gives me a deep look
- He's seen me and seen me seeing him.
Something real has happened.
I am touched by his look,
It’s not anguish,
He’s not pleading
It’s two humans connecting.

Some weeks pass
And I get in the habit of
Giving him a couple of quid
Today I finally puck up the courage
To talk to him
Have you anywhere to stay?
No but I’m on a waiting list for a hostel
It’s been 5 months
I keep going back to them.

I’m appalled
5 wintry months sleeping in a car park
I hope he’s fallen through the net
This is Manchester 2016
Surely we wouldn’t leave people on the streets over winter?

Just saw the young homeless man again
He has an appointment next Tuesday
And hopes never to see me again
I hope so too
He crosses himself

He has taught me
It’s not enough to just give money
There is a person on the other side
Sparing a few words is important too
For both of us

It’s Wednesday 8am now
And there is a space outside the coffee shop
And he’s not there
I miss him
But I am glad not to see him

Grey Power

Grey Power

Me thinking
Old people were weak and frail
Yes
But their spirit is strong
And
Despite
Or even because
Of how they suffer
They support each other
And their children
And their grand children

So don‘t feel sorry for us pensioners
But
Treat us with some respect
We have earned our stripes
Our marks
Which we carry on our backs

So when you see
A group of us
Up to no good
Don’t write us off
Or if you do
More fool you

Even politicians
Are not stupid
To ignore grey power

Finally
And inevitably
You will become
One of us
In time
(Or die trying)

Singing for Chernobyl

So a strange thing happened to me at my choir's rehearsal yesterday. We were preparing to perform at a concert for Children in Chernobyl and signing a wonderful song from Hawaii called E Malama and when we got to the words 'Hold this land in sacredness' I just had to weep. I sat down and buried my face in my hands. People were great and I was naturally embarassed and lost my usual English sense of reseve. Maybe it was the inner Wlshman coming out. This helped cope with the concert especially hearing the heartrending thngs that happened to all especially the children. Here's my my formal piece:

Hold this land in sacredness

I am not sure how much you can change the world for the better by singing; but certainly we know that choirs can improve the health of their members and probably their audiences too. And a choir can lend it support to people and causes that make a difference. That was so with the Manchester Community Choir’s concert yesterday in support of the Chernobyl Children’s project. It has been 30 years since the nuclear power station disaster at Chernobyl and it was heartrending to hear of the suffering that still continues to this day but also uplifting to hear what help was being offered especially to the children still affected by nuclear radiation. Our choice of songs reflected this situation. We sang Durme a poignant Judaeo Spanish lullaby from Sarajevo and E Malama a Hawaiian song that includes the line ‘Hold this land in sacredness’. Besides our choir there were some lovely uplifting songs from Linda Harvey, Russian music from the Manchester Balalaika Youth Orchestra, and some moving words written by people affected by the disaster read out by Artists for Peace. It is not too late to support the project more details from














Chernobyl Children's Project - Supporting the Children of Belarus

Welcome to the Chernobyl Children's Project (UK) homepage. CCP (UK) supports families in Belarus that have been effected by the Chernobyl disaster.



chernobyl-children.org.uk

Poem

Lying in the bed

In pain

I hear the birds sing

With all my gratitude - poem

With all my gratitude

I am feeling spoilt
In this moment
So much given to me
I don’t deserve it

But that is not it
I am deeply thankful
And a little scared
To whom so much is given
So much is asked

But you have given me
The joy of this sunrise
The gift of this food
The grace of this company

And still I fear what is asked of me
But
I can do what I can do
Walk the next steps
On this journey of life
Greet fellow pilgrims
Share in their pain and pleasure
And offer of myself unto them
As necessary

I can’t deny my gifts
Limited as they seem
But if I can render unto you
I will

Give me a place to stand
And people I can be of use to
And I will plant seeds
Whether they grow I cannot tell
And that is not my task

May rain fall and sun shine
And these words blossom
In all that seems true
With all my gratitude.

Musings

When I was a young man I remember thinking, ‘If I can’t be happy in love then at least let me be famous.’ Later as a therapist people sometimes treated me as special on account of how transformative therapy can sometimes be. But in more recent years it is so clear to me how ordinary I am and that I am/was pretty good at my job but that’s it. Now that I am winding down out of the academic world after 20 years I can’t believe how quickly that time went and how over it now feels despite my remaining one day a week temporary contract! Today the ordinary me is noticing the birds and nature more, feeling humility at my GPs surgery this morning – what’s my shoulder problem compared with some of the poor ones waiting in line with me? And so thankful for how well I am just now. Then a bit of shopping at the local bookshop, some philosophical banter with the shop assistant in Boots, a ‘Hello’ to our old postman and to my daughter’s primary school best friend and her dad. Simple things part of a simpler life but still oh so precious. I want to savour the time I have left and today I am truly thankful.