1) Do no harm to others
2) Help those in need
3) Love well
4) Seek the good in things
5) Think for yourself
6) Be well informed
7) Take responsibility for yourself
8) Give your best
9) Respect the natural world
10) Be courageous
Monday, 15 September 2014
Saturday, 13 September 2014
Ruby's 13th Birthday- fundraising, closure and assimilation of grief. And chocolate cake.
Today is Ruby's 13th birthday. She probably would have wanted crepes for breakfast, Lord of the Rings on TV all day and pizza, garlic bread and cheesecake for dinner. And mountains of chocolate cake.
Claire and I arraigned a sponsored 20 mile walk in aid of the Children's Heartbeat Trust charity here in Belfast- we helped raise £8,500 for them last year and they have been very supportive to us since Ruby died- but Claire injured her ankle jogging a month ago and it is still pretty sore so we cycled it instead.
The mild guilt I was feeling because of my perceived lack of hard work involved in the endeavour ("Twenty mile bike ride? That's barely a warm-up") was quickly put aside when we realised that the first four miles of the path was an unrideable mash-up of boulders, steps, sand and rock-face. Within 300 metres we were lost and as I was muttering something about preparation a dog walker and a local resident offered their assistance and put us on the right path. Well, "the right path" if you are wearing hiking boots and spend most of your life on a mountain side for fun. We stumbled on, lugging the bikes up and down steps, sliding around gravelled ruts but eventually the path straightened and even though it was unfamiliar we knew where we needed to get to and put our trust in the relentless road under our wheels- we made the road our friend.
We had placed a star-shaped helium balloon at our starting point-Ruby's bench at Crawfordsburn Country Park- and another one at our destination, Ruby's tree at Loughshore Playpark at Jordanstown. So far we have raised £1400 and there is a month left to collect more.
Immediate and obvious similarities made themselves known to me regarding our cycle journey today and the journey of grief I have undergone in the last sixteen months- I started on an unknown road which was filled with risks and unfamiliar territory, where there were boulders and shifting sands, and even strangers were offering their assistance. I never stopped, I moved forward, forward, forward and persevered with a path often perceived as unegotiable. I slowed, sped up, I occasionally lurched, I bridged, I rounded and eventually the road straightened a little, smoothed a little, I coasted more often, drove less.
There will be no end to the road, no "closure", and I will always have an excess weight to shoulder. I don't think the weight will get heavier but that I will grow stronger to carry it. I don't believe in closure- I don't think I have ever truly seen it during my time working in mental health or otherwise- but instead have seen an incorporation of emotive experiences related to mourning into someone's personality. My grief is being absorbed into my character, my daily routine, into everything I am, like an osmotic sadness becoming a homogenisation of me-ness. Time and psychic work has encouraged the assimilation that is necessary and natural for life-long coping. Grief, like all experiences in life, influences who I am to become and is just another human condition that makes me me, for better or worse. There is no end to the road, there is no closure and I wouldn't want it if offered. But I get stronger, I consider and reflect more, I learn from my experiences and try to develop skills to use in my interactions with others and I keep moving forward. The key is navigation.
Claire and I arraigned a sponsored 20 mile walk in aid of the Children's Heartbeat Trust charity here in Belfast- we helped raise £8,500 for them last year and they have been very supportive to us since Ruby died- but Claire injured her ankle jogging a month ago and it is still pretty sore so we cycled it instead.
The mild guilt I was feeling because of my perceived lack of hard work involved in the endeavour ("Twenty mile bike ride? That's barely a warm-up") was quickly put aside when we realised that the first four miles of the path was an unrideable mash-up of boulders, steps, sand and rock-face. Within 300 metres we were lost and as I was muttering something about preparation a dog walker and a local resident offered their assistance and put us on the right path. Well, "the right path" if you are wearing hiking boots and spend most of your life on a mountain side for fun. We stumbled on, lugging the bikes up and down steps, sliding around gravelled ruts but eventually the path straightened and even though it was unfamiliar we knew where we needed to get to and put our trust in the relentless road under our wheels- we made the road our friend.
We had placed a star-shaped helium balloon at our starting point-Ruby's bench at Crawfordsburn Country Park- and another one at our destination, Ruby's tree at Loughshore Playpark at Jordanstown. So far we have raised £1400 and there is a month left to collect more.
Immediate and obvious similarities made themselves known to me regarding our cycle journey today and the journey of grief I have undergone in the last sixteen months- I started on an unknown road which was filled with risks and unfamiliar territory, where there were boulders and shifting sands, and even strangers were offering their assistance. I never stopped, I moved forward, forward, forward and persevered with a path often perceived as unegotiable. I slowed, sped up, I occasionally lurched, I bridged, I rounded and eventually the road straightened a little, smoothed a little, I coasted more often, drove less.
There will be no end to the road, no "closure", and I will always have an excess weight to shoulder. I don't think the weight will get heavier but that I will grow stronger to carry it. I don't believe in closure- I don't think I have ever truly seen it during my time working in mental health or otherwise- but instead have seen an incorporation of emotive experiences related to mourning into someone's personality. My grief is being absorbed into my character, my daily routine, into everything I am, like an osmotic sadness becoming a homogenisation of me-ness. Time and psychic work has encouraged the assimilation that is necessary and natural for life-long coping. Grief, like all experiences in life, influences who I am to become and is just another human condition that makes me me, for better or worse. There is no end to the road, there is no closure and I wouldn't want it if offered. But I get stronger, I consider and reflect more, I learn from my experiences and try to develop skills to use in my interactions with others and I keep moving forward. The key is navigation.
Friday, 5 September 2014
Ruby's Ashes
We buried some of Ruby's ashes. It is a grotesquely unnatural and unenviably rare position to be forced to know. It makes no sense and I wish it on no-one.
As an atheist I know there is equal possibility in Ruby being in a heaven as there is in her being in Tolkein's Middle Earth. So why not wish for, and imagine, her being in Middle Earth? Sometimes I wish to be wrong about the end of life when we die. Sometimes I imagine Ruby hurtling across the land of Rohan in Middle Earth, psychically linked to her horse, pushing her on to her destination, bow and quiver on her back, head down, hair flowing straight and fast behind her, a wide toothy grin proving she is exactly where she wants to be, focused but completely free, with limitless imaginative potential.
As an atheist I know there is equal possibility in Ruby being in a heaven as there is in her being in Tolkein's Middle Earth. So why not wish for, and imagine, her being in Middle Earth? Sometimes I wish to be wrong about the end of life when we die. Sometimes I imagine Ruby hurtling across the land of Rohan in Middle Earth, psychically linked to her horse, pushing her on to her destination, bow and quiver on her back, head down, hair flowing straight and fast behind her, a wide toothy grin proving she is exactly where she wants to be, focused but completely free, with limitless imaginative potential.
Thursday, 4 September 2014
Those who are near me do not know that you are nearer to me than they are
Those who are near me do not know that you are nearer to me than they are,
Those who speak to me do not know that my heart is full with your unspoken words,
Those who crowd in my path do not know that I am walking alone with you,
They who love me do not know that their love brings you to my heart.
-by Rabindranath Tagore
Those who speak to me do not know that my heart is full with your unspoken words,
Those who crowd in my path do not know that I am walking alone with you,
They who love me do not know that their love brings you to my heart.
-by Rabindranath Tagore
Wednesday, 3 September 2014
What to say, what not to say
1) Often there isn't the right thing to say but there is often the wrong thing- think before you speak.
2) Being quiet together is OK.
3) Not knowing what to say is OK.
4) No fatalism, no religion, no "it was her time to go" nonsense.
5) Ask me. If I don't want to say, I won't.
6) Only I can say "It's what she would have wanted".
7) Don't say "she is in a better place". She isn't, she is not in my arms, the best place for her (see no.4, above)
8) Although her death affects you, it is mainly my grief. I have ownership. I have weight of comment.
9) I will try to be honest but will not always be open. I don't want to share my true face with someone whose primary talent is supposition.
10) Don't ever whine about your children. Ever.
11) Saying you will always "be there" is very nice but a homemade dinner I can just throw in the oven is nicer and more pragmatic.
12) Feel free to be open about how you feel (with the exception of no.4, above). Saying you are sad will not make me worse.
2) Being quiet together is OK.
3) Not knowing what to say is OK.
4) No fatalism, no religion, no "it was her time to go" nonsense.
5) Ask me. If I don't want to say, I won't.
6) Only I can say "It's what she would have wanted".
7) Don't say "she is in a better place". She isn't, she is not in my arms, the best place for her (see no.4, above)
8) Although her death affects you, it is mainly my grief. I have ownership. I have weight of comment.
9) I will try to be honest but will not always be open. I don't want to share my true face with someone whose primary talent is supposition.
10) Don't ever whine about your children. Ever.
11) Saying you will always "be there" is very nice but a homemade dinner I can just throw in the oven is nicer and more pragmatic.
12) Feel free to be open about how you feel (with the exception of no.4, above). Saying you are sad will not make me worse.
Monday, 25 August 2014
Some things I have appreciated this week
Some things I have appreciated this week-
The breeze, the sea, the 10 mile bike ride into town, Belfast's industrial heritage, solar panels, good coffee, being healthy enough to jog for miles, Tom's laugh, the various shades of green outside the front room window, respect from a client who knows exactly how I feel and has been through worse than me, paternal skills as taught to me by Ruby, a bank holiday weekend, a decent snog, the sun, wasps, the power of a good film ("Blade Runner", directors cut), homemade bread, medication, insight, agronomy, the bedroom light against the wallpaper that looks like the moon through a forest, in-laws who trust Claire's choice of husband, making a bicycle with a friend, introspective silence, freedom of speech, very loud heavy metal, Schoenberg, my parents, the ability to read and having had a free education, that same cyclist every workday morning who nods and smiles, that first gin and tonic on a Friday night, nuzzling into Claire when I crumple, expertly crafted kitchen knives, the science of glass, ASIMO, the supercomputer that is a smartphone, cut wild flowers, soap.
The breeze, the sea, the 10 mile bike ride into town, Belfast's industrial heritage, solar panels, good coffee, being healthy enough to jog for miles, Tom's laugh, the various shades of green outside the front room window, respect from a client who knows exactly how I feel and has been through worse than me, paternal skills as taught to me by Ruby, a bank holiday weekend, a decent snog, the sun, wasps, the power of a good film ("Blade Runner", directors cut), homemade bread, medication, insight, agronomy, the bedroom light against the wallpaper that looks like the moon through a forest, in-laws who trust Claire's choice of husband, making a bicycle with a friend, introspective silence, freedom of speech, very loud heavy metal, Schoenberg, my parents, the ability to read and having had a free education, that same cyclist every workday morning who nods and smiles, that first gin and tonic on a Friday night, nuzzling into Claire when I crumple, expertly crafted kitchen knives, the science of glass, ASIMO, the supercomputer that is a smartphone, cut wild flowers, soap.
Sunday, 17 August 2014
Contentment, not happiness
I got a blazing white hot flash of crystal clear understanding today. Having thought and thought and thought over the months about attaining happiness throughout my life I came to a startling realisation- I don't want happiness. I want contentment not happiness. Contentment is deeper and more complex than happiness (which is fickle and ephemeral). I need to have meaning and purpose to achieve contentment and so my focus should be aimed towards significance of action. I guess this is one meaning of what Aristotle called "living flourishingly" or, I think, "eudaimonia".
I think this is what is meant by some humanist ideals, thoughtfully addressing ideas of how to live with one goal being constructive, significant action (maybe other goals address ideas of personal and societal growth, ameliorating distress, encouraging the strengths of others).
I think this is what is meant by some humanist ideals, thoughtfully addressing ideas of how to live with one goal being constructive, significant action (maybe other goals address ideas of personal and societal growth, ameliorating distress, encouraging the strengths of others).
Now, how do I achieve non-happiness?!
Claire and I are walking a sponsored 20 miles on Ruby's 13th birthday in four weeks. Three people have independently told me they think this is an admirable thing to do on Ruby's birthday- to think of others on a sponsored walk. The truth is, what else are we to do? Sit around and mope, feeling sorry for ourselves? Fingers crossed Claire's recently injured ankle holds out.
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