I have recently enjoyed watching the gripping space film, “The Martian” starring Matt Damon.

Matt Damon’s character, Mark Watney is accidentally left alive and alone on Mars during an emergency evacuation by the crew in a dangerous martian storm.

I have felt inspired by the idea, which is promoted in the film, which is that to survive we have to take incremental steps.

My own journey to accept my truth has been incremental and it continues to be so.

It sometimes feels like I am trying a variety of ways to make connections with the world through a revised prism of my identity which somehow feel unrelated and random.

As my journey has unfolded, these apparently separate elements begin to form connections with each other which protect and sustain my fragile soul.

At the end of the film, Mark Watney, after undertaking heroic challenges to survive, has to submit himself completely to his crew mates who are attempting to reach him in space.

It looks like they are going to fall short, but he thrusts himself forward from his low orbit through the hole he creates in his space suit to propel himself towards his rescuers.

This made me feel emotional, because so often I have felt that despite all my efforts, those whom I need to support me fall short and do not manage to reach in to my pain to rescue me.

I felt in watching the film, that I need to recognise in others the effort they make to help and support me with their love and to resolve to make an extra effort to propel myself forward to them out of my own low orbit.

My next blog will be: Blue Hair

William Defoe

[My wife, seeing that I was emotional at the end of this wonderful film, said to me ” You do realise Will that it is only a sandpit?” – I said “I do not, he’s been left alone 50 million miles away all alone on Mars”]

Today is Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent which culminates with the Holy Paschal Triduum at Easter.

In recent years, I have been very successful in giving up alcohol completely for the whole of Lent and also tea/coffee at my desk.

The financial gain which I make from not indulging in these normal activities, I am asked to give to charity – alms giving, which of course I will do.

This year, Pope Francis, in a pre-Lenten address emphasized the importance of doing something in Lent which will be of benefit to someone else – I ask myself what does he mean?

I can’t see how my small sacrifices as explained above will be of benefit to others.

Perhaps I will be able to give my friends more lifts in my car if I am not drinking – is that what he means?

Perhaps I will be calmer and less tired and less likely to say the wrong thing if I am simply drinking water – is that what he means?.

Perhaps I will find an opportunity to do something unexpected for a stranger or an acquaintance with whom I have little interaction – is that what he means?

Perhaps I will find a moment each day to pray for those who are completely unknown to me who suffer from effects of poverty, hunger, war, disease, oppression, loneliness, bereavement – is that what he means?

Perhaps I will find an opportunity to say sorry to someone whom I have hurt through my words or actions or was it through my silence or inaction? – is that what he means?

Perhaps I will find a way, through prayer and reflection to join my sufferings to those of our Lord Jesus Christ and find a way of accepting that my suffering is a way to be like Christ at his crucifixion so that I can emerge with Him at His resurrection – is that what he means?

Perhaps I will find a way to reach out to a fellow citizen of another faith, or of none – is that what he means?

Lent, it seems to me, is like sharing the fruits from within, of developing self, and my abstinence from an everyday habit, enables me to share myself with others – I think that is what he means, in fact, I’m sure of it!

My next blog will be: Low Orbit

William Defoe

Last night I came across Kitty again – on You Tube.

Kitty, played by Patricia Routledge, appeared in a five minute monologue during The Victoria Wood As Seen on TV Show in the 1980’s.

I cried with laughter at the following lines in episode 3, all spoken by the brilliant Patricia Routledge in monologue:

“The Producer didn’t cook, thank goodness

She’s a nice girl, but when somebody chain smokes capstan full strength, and wears a Coleman’s Jerkin, you’re hardly tempted to sample their dumplings.

First day I met her, she said “I’m a radical feminist lesbian”

I thought “What would the Queen Mum do”

So I just smiled and said “We shall have fog by tea-time”

She said “Are you intimidated by my sexual preferences?”

I said, “No and I’m not too struck with your donkey jacket either”

This little extract had me in tears of laughter last night.

I noticed that its nostalgic brilliance had not been lost on me over the years since I had last seen it – it made me laugh when I first heard it, just as much as it did today.

As I kept repeating the little clip, I noticed and I enjoyed the live studio audience laughing at each silly statement, but also that some laughter from individuals in the audience was longer and higher pitched than others.

I noticed that some people found this clip more humorous than others, or should I say they appeared to express their enjoyment of it more forcefully in the quality of their laughter.

I have noticed that despite the difficulties that I have endured in my life, I have been able to laugh and at times make people laugh too.

The wonder of living life in the present, is that like yesterday, feeling very despondent with some aspects of self, and all churned up, I was able to laugh until I cried at this piece of literary brilliance, which is Kitty!

My next blog will be: Lent

William Defoe

A couple of weeks ago I decided to have a longer than usual Sunday run.

During the run I became aware that the top of my legs were rubbing harshly against each other and causing me discomfort.

I did what I could to adjust the Lycra protection that I wear to prevent such unwanted contact, but it was to  late, the damage was done – for a few days I had very sore Chapped Legs!.

I think that our own conflicted thoughts can, at times, cause friction in our mental state of mind and leave us open to the anguish and pain of not quite knowing what to do next.

Quite often, my own internal conflicts have been caused because I was under an illusion that I had to make a choice, or a snap decision, on a matter, which required of me more thought and time.

As a man of faith, I can see the benefit of praying over such matters, and please believe me when I say I do pray, but prayer for me works better when I am simply being with God in quiet reverie.

I have noticed, that I have been called upon, to be more expansive in my thinking as I journey into a life of being present.

This means, that I need somehow to hold all the conflict in my mind but think of it, not as conflict or choice or friction, but as story – a story which is slowly building up a plot to an ending which has not yet revealed itself ….. but it will!

I caused the skin at the top of my legs to burn, when I chapped my legs, so I have now taken extra precautions to:-

• apply some cream to the said area, and
• wear a layer of cotton under the Lycra……
• which is under my shorts…..
• – its a wonder I can run at all!

but, joking aside, this notion of layering and protecting and keeping going physically, is supporting my increasing ability to hold it all together, with generosity and love of self, while I work through those issues which trouble my mind.

My next blog will be: Kitty

William Defoe

In an interview before he died, Yul Brynner was asked whether there was any one thing in his life that he would change if he could,  and in answer he said:  “I’d have stopped smoking”

Yul Brynner died of lung cancer in 1985.

His sense of hopelessness at the end of his life, in respect of a lifestyle that he believed had cost him his life, moved me very much.

I have been reflecting on what I would change about my life if I could, here and now in the present and here it is.

I wish I could spend more time with my little children, just listening to them, talking to them, holding them whilst being calm at the same time.

Like Yul Brynner, I can’t go back and change the past, and perhaps my perception of the kind of father I was when my children were growing up, is clouded and unclear and not really a reflection of how it was.

I did spend time with them, I read to them, I made up stories for them, I played with them, I made them laugh, I hid from them, I jumped out on them, I tickled them, I treated them, I went on holiday with them, I had picnics with them, I bought them gifts and I provided a home with all the essentials which they needed.

So what is this grief I carry around with me which feels like failure?

I suppose it is that whilst doing all those wonderful things, I was unhappy and anxious and scared that I would not succeed, that I would fail them in some way.

I want to go back and do it all again but without the fear.

Mary McAleese, former President of Eire said at the banquet in Dublin Castle on HM Queen’s State Visit to Ireland in 2011, “that whilst none of us can change the past, we have chosen to change the future into which we hopefully can let in enough light to allow perspectives on the past to soften.”

This aspiration, in her fabulous speech, is at the heart of my struggle to accept how things have been, and how things are today.

I am surrounded by evidence that my adult children love me, but I sometimes resist letting that love in, so that my sense of having failed them by not being open with them about my suffering, is what, I want, at this point in my life, to change most of all.

To live in the present, was summed up by HM Queen in her speech in Dublin Castle on the same evening – “we must learn to bow to the past, but not be bound by it”

I have worked very hard in recent years to be calm, to be open to the ideas that my adult children have about their lives and to be as supportive as I can.

The bit that is missing, the bit that I would most like to change, is being able to feel their love, after having explained to them the fullness of my truth, and that is the hardest bit of all to change.

My next blog will be: Chapped Legs

William Defoe

Simon Weston CBE is well known in the UK as a veteran of the 1982 Falklands War in which he sustained serious burns when his ship The Sir Galahad was bombed on 8 June 1982.

At a conference which I attended last week, I had the privilege of listening to Simon Weston give a motivational speech, in which he explained, with simplicity and clarity, the distinction between Fate and Destiny.

Fate, he said, is what happens

Destiny, he said, is in our own hands.

After sustaining terrible injuries, Simon Weston said that whilst at his hospital bedside his mother had said to him “Right Simon, where do we go from here because the world does not owe you a favour”

After being discharged from the army, which had been his whole life, and coming to terms with his injuries and his sense of guilt over the loss of his friends, whom he could not help, Simon Weston has lived a public life supporting various charities which aimed to support young people to find their destiny.

I felt inspired by his life, which through great effort and determination, and whilst suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), and undergoing 96 separate operations on his face and hands, he has been able to make his life an opportunity to make a difference.

He said, “we all have to learn from our mistakes and keep a sense of proportion when things go wrong.”

Life he said, goes on, and I had to learn to accept myself as I was and overcome my fear of failure in the present and my assumption that my future would be a failure too.

After being told by a young woman on a night out in a pub that his injured face had spoiled her night out and that he should have stayed at home, he said, “You can’t do anything about what other people say – all you can do is maintain your own dignity”

I, William Defoe, have spent many years questioning the origins of my sexual orientation and whether someone else was to blame for my sense of fear and isolation.

I have come to realise that how I am, is how I was born and this is my Fate.

The fact that I have overcome my sense of failure and that I am working hard to live my life in the present is my Destiny.

My next blog will be: What would you change?

William Defoe

I offer my prayers for the Argentine and British Soldiers who lost their lives during the Falklands War in 1982 and for those who live with mental and physical injuries and their families.

I also offer my prayers for a closer friendship between the government and citizens of the UK and Argentina.

I also pray for our Pope Francis, a gift to the world from Argentina!

Yuk is defined in the English Oxford Dictionary as a word used to express strong distaste or disgust.

For many months now I have lived in a question of how far I should go to reveal the truth about my sexuality to the world.

Last week, whilst travelling with my mother, our conversation drifted to the issue of gay marriage in connection to a mutual acquaintance of ours who happens to be a lesbian and living in a very long term relationship with another woman.

My mother, as she referred to this relationship, described their situation as “Yuk”

This strong judgement, on a couple whom neither of us know very well, made me think again about the reason I find it difficult to be open with her, and others, about the truth of my same sex attraction.

At first, on reflection it made me metaphorically curl up like a hedgehog into a ball of spines – ready to repel any risk of hurt or judgement that might befall me if I was to make my truth more widely known.

At the heart of my dilemma is a growing and deepening acceptance and love of self as to who I am,  which is offset by an anxiety, that if I was more open, I would lay myself wide open to judgement, hurt and rejection.

On further reflection, these words of judgement have stiffened my resolve to be ready for some losses – but not my mother.

This effectively means, that I will put to rest any hope that I have of being open with my mother, which is a lost opportunity for us both.

It seems to me that if we are quick to judge others, we open up to the risk of denying ourselves the opportunity to live fully present in the truth of the world.

We deny ourselves the opportunity to be a source of help and support to those whom we love.

It is my strong assertion, that as we grow in our love of self, in all aspects of our truth, we become more and more open to the truth of all those in the world, in all the wonderful contradictions and diversity, which this world has to offer.

My next blog will be: Fate and Destiny

William Defoe

I have got into the habit of having around me something to read which will bring a wider perspective to my journey to find compassion for self.

I’ve been hooked to a book called “Consolations” by David Whyte in recent weeks.

In his wonderful book of prose, David Whyte takes everyday words, and explains them as a consolation for where we are today, in the present, rather than where we are trying to be.

I have come to realise that I am not searching for improvement on my journey to love self, nor am I searching for a cure, I am searching to accept the present situation of my life which at any given time can be light and shade and quite possibly a range of these extremes on any given day.

I was drawn to his chapter on “Pain” because it is not a book that you read from page 1 – I just dip in and out of the various words which he has presented as his titles.

First thing to note to self, is that I was drawn to his chapter on “pain” – that’s interesting in itself – will there be a cure even though I’m not supposed to be looking for a cure?

Pain, he says “is the doorway to the here and now”

How wise am I? – I have found the right page after all.

His words force me to be expansive in my thinking and gentle and kind to self in the context of his unraveling of everyday words.

Words which have previously locked me in from being able to fully love myself and previously caused me to hope, that somehow, someone else will do the work of finding compassion for me.

I have noticed in recent weeks that my acceptance of the tumultuous emotional struggle which is ongoing in my life, has enabled me to recognise, accept and comfort the pain which I see in others so that I can bring to an end my narrative of expectation in others.

It is one of the profoundest insights into my journey of self, which I have mentioned previously through my writing, that accepting the pain in self with compassion, is a key enabler to being able to empathize with the pain of others, especially those whom we love the most.

My next blog will be: Yuk

William Defoe

Last weekend, whilst I was out walking with my sister and her family along the coast in Cornwall, our conversation turned to an issue which is not yet fully resolved in my own heart.

I attended to the topic in brief terms, but I resisted a temptation to throw out my uncertainty for general discussion.

There was a slight moment of awkward silence into which again I resisted the instinct to feed the gap by saying more than I was ready to say at this point in time.

The conversation turned to other matters and the idyllic day punctuated with laughter and a pint of beer / glass of wine at a lovely coastal pub was a very happy day indeed.

As we arrived back from our walk, the group dispersed for a couple of hours in advance of a rendez-vous for evening dinner a couple of hours later.

I, having walked for most of the day, and a little fatigued felt within me a compulsion to keep walking on  along the coast alone – to be with self.

Once alone, I allowed myself to feel into the issues that had waited patiently for my attention, and I took a moment at an isolated place to fill my lungs and cry out sea-ward in an effort to release the stifling intensity that my emotions were storing up in my chest.

The release of sound and air from my lungs gave way to a few tears of release and I knew at once that all was calm again, I had listened to my inner voice, it acknowledged that I had heard it through my tears.

The interesting thing is, that the issues I am concerned about – [and there are several at the moment – some interlinked, some not – as I suspect there are for all of us, most of the time] – did not dissipate, they were not resolved, but they continue to do their work within me as I come to terms with what course of action to take or not as the case may be.

I noticed that in the moment, on the beach when this issue was raised, that I have discovered a powerful ability, which I have not hitherto known, to be brief and then silent – not awkward or sulking or needy or stressed, but calm, collected, measured and balanced whilst at the same time maintaining the joy in the present moment of being with them all in that beautiful place.

In choosing to walk on, I addressed the needs of self, and spent some time with the questions that seem to want an answer from me, and with time I now realise that the answers will come from within or from choosing the right time, the right and appropriate moment to ask those who love me most for help.

My next blog will be : Consolations

William Defoe

I am having a winter break at home this week.

It is part of my ongoing work to bring a balance to my life of work and rest.

I have set my heart on watching the BBC Coverage of the 2012 London Olympics which I received as a box set gift shortly after the games ended, which I have never found time to watch except for brief excerpts.

I am surprised at my choice of relaxation for the couple of days that I have given myself for this repast, because I am not particularly interested in sport, and I was on holiday in Portugal when the Olympic Games were held in London.

I have also consciously made a decision to watch less TV as I find a way to be present each day in my life, so to plan to sit in front of the TV purposefully for a couple of days seems a tad indulgent and could be interpreted as a backward step on my resolve.

I love my country, I was immensely proud of my country during the Olympics and I want to honour the commitment and skill of all the athletes who took part and to celebrate the success and effort of Team GB.

There is one moment which I am keen to watch again, and perhaps is the reason why I have set aside this time, and that is the sight of Northern Ireland’s exhausted single sculler Alan Campbell being half-carried towards the medal podium by Sir Steve Redgrave to pick up his bronze medal.

Campbell had given every last ounce of energy to bag himself a bronze, the first single sculls medal by a rower from the British Isles since 1928.

His complete exhaustion, his recognition that he had done all that he could, moved me deeply because his success was won through courage and determination against the odds.

I am hoping that the Olympic athletes of the 2012 London games will inspire me to persevere in my own journey to find within me the compassion for self which I have sought for so long.

I wish the government and people of Brazil best wishes for their preparation for, and enjoyment of, the 2016 Rio de Janeiro Olympic Games.

My next blog will be: Walking on

William Defoe