Have you noticed how hi-tech crutches have become.

A light aluminium frame with a cuff for the arm below the elbow and a handle for which the injured person to grip.

The evening before I went on holiday, I was at the Saturday Evening Mass when I noticed a friend of mine hobble out to communion on a pair of these modern crutches.

I had this immediate pang of sympathy towards her, not having heard that she had suffered an injury and resolved to speak to her after Mass to find out what had happened.

As I sat watching her, and the reactions of concern and sympathy from other parishioners, I had this blast from the past of a memory of a boy in my class, aged about 8 years having broken his leg and coming into school on crutches.

His crutches we wooden with rubber stoppers on the bottom and a cushioned rest for under his arm pits as he moved himself along.

I remember feeling very envious of him, for all the attention he got and the special arrangements made to accommodate his needs, his parents coming into class to help him settle (a most unusual occurrence), the teacher being nice to him, fuss, fuss, fuss.

I don’t remember feeling sympathetic for his accident, perhaps I have forgotten this detail because I was always a nice, kind boy, but I do remember thinking how great it would be if I broke my leg, go crutches and all the fuss and attention that would come with it.

I think what came to my mind as I watched my friend a couple of weeks ago, was a sense that as a child, I craved attention which did not seem to be given to me.

I had a lot of dreams and thoughts and worries which never got spoken and I had a feeling that it would have been nice to have been heard, to have felt noticed.

That is not to say, that I was not loved and looked after, but in that generation, children just got on with it.

I want to do two things as a result of this reverie, make sure I listen to my own inner voice as I have started to do,  and also listen and actively seek what it is that my children want to say, no matter what it is.

I don’t need crutches to do that!

My next blog will be:   Tess

William Defoe

In recent years all the good times seem to have been spoiled by at least one episode of anger expressed by me in a moment of weakness, which then clouded the whole evening or day or even the holiday.

It has been my intention for many months now to try to hold in the anger, manage the discomfort, resist the urge to react.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think that at some point in the future, I would come to a time in my life when there was no anger to suppress, no discomfort to manage and no need to resist an urge to react.

It happened last week in Spain.

Viva Espana!

Last week, it was like it must feel when all the preparations for a special day come together without a hitch.

This turn of events in my life, is a reward for my deep commitment and effort to change supported by those who love me.

It wasn’t a fluke, it was a real experience, because I was able to hold back the distractions and worries in my life and allow myself to relax.

My wife was real close to me, planting smackers on my lips as we walked along the promenade in beautiful Fuengirola – we were like teenagers, even though we are in our fifties.

I am increasingly drawn to a whole plethora of ways to live which draw upon the inherent strengths of my own character which for so many years has been swamped with a feeling that I could not cope.

It all seemed to come together last week in Spain, and I was able to come home feeling calm and relaxed and in a way ready for the realities of my life, which are not always easy, but better able to cope, better able to be present.

Viva Espana!

Adios!

My next blog will be:  Crutches

William Defoe

I am in one of the most energetic and mentally focused periods of my life at the current time.

I am focusing all of my efforts on trying to bring a new balance and understanding to the lives of my adult children which is fractious between them at times.

There seems to be an underlying theme in the complaints that we hear as their parents, that we have among them a favourite, or we fail to acknowledge failings in our children perceived in them,  by one or other of our adult children.

My wife has been experiencing some lows recently after being accused of taking one side or the other in the disputes which arise.

I have sat down with my wife and I have advised her in future to listen and say “Hmmm”

What I mean by this, is that she acknowledges what she has heard, but that she does not try to take the other point of view, just to be with it, to let the “injured” party see that she/we have listened.

Of course, then there is the bigger picture in all of this – our adult children don’t always get on and I have experienced a profound sense of failure over this in the past, and my wife cries, which I find unbearable.

Have we been perfect parents – No

Could we have done things differently – Yes

Hang on a minute William – we have done the best we could – we nurtured, loved, provided, supported them and we will continue to do so.

Whilst my wife is at the coal face of the disputes which arise, I have been talking to her about my role as strategist.

It’s about the long view I tell her, taking the time to change the dynamic by getting close to each on my adult children  – my wife already is – it is I that has the catching up to do.

My inward development has provided me with an array of “tools” to deploy in my battle to bring my family together, to heal wounds where I can.

My first tool is to acknowledge that I might fail – I accept now that I might fail in my endeavors

My next is expansive thinking – trying to enable my adult children to question their own judgments, to own them if they believe them to be right, to change them if they find on closer scrutiny that they are wrong, but to widen their perspective in the process.

I want to broaden the context of their thinking to be able to recognise what it is in them that causes the hurt, rather than assuming that it is a force coming from another party – for the most part I think the hurt comes from within – I want them to discover for themselves what that is and to confront it as I have done.

I want them to realise that whilst ultimately I cannot force my adult children to be friends, I want to be a part of their lives, my love is not conditional on a favourable outcome, however desirable that may be.

I want each of my adult children to feel safe in their relationship with me and their mother and I want to encourage them to build up a network of opportunity for speaking and listening to each other, to break down views they have of each other which are becoming more and more entrenched.

So I won’t be the great adjudicator in their disputes, I will be their dad, their mentor their friend.

Hmmm!

My next blog will be: Viva Espana!

William Defoe

I have a growing tendency to experience aspects of my life with a deep intensity.

The feeling is overwhelming and yet I am not floored by it because I recognise that I am experiencing my inner life with a growing and deepening clarity and calm.

On the surface, I continue with my life and interact with those with whom I come into contact, but below the surface I experience very intense connections to my soul.

This aspect of connecting with self-hood, requires my attention which I give it in periods of meditation and silence.

I have been encouraged by my coach to describe it, to be with it, to notice its effect on my body.

My recent intensity has been in respect of the feelings I have for my own sex. I have limited opportunities to describe this inner life to my acquaintances and this isolation does weigh heavily on me at times.

I experienced these feelings as a black orb, a moon like sphere passing through a dark space – a beautiful silky blackness, not a scary black.

In my quiet meditation this orb of intensity passes through the cavity of my chest and I feel restless, momentarily breathless with a shimmer of palpitations which calls to me for compassion, generosity and above all for love.

This intensity, whilst in a state of deep calm, speaks to me of the anger and frustration which these feelings brought forth openly into the world before I was able to welcome and accept and acknowledge these aspects of self.

My feelings of deep intensity are a call for me to acknowledge my truth, a call from within for courage, a call from within for me to consider providing for a greater openness of self to the world however difficult this might seem to be at the current time.

My next blog will be: Hmmm

William Defoe

When I was a ten year old child I wanted to be a backing dancer to the singers who performed on Saturday Night TV.

I was mesmerized by the way they flung themselves around the singer on stage, in their understated costumes, often having some direct interaction with the singer at the end of the song – holding them aloft or grasping at their legs (I think! – my memory is a bit sketchy on that one!)

I must have said, I wanted to be a dancer, because I know that my dad said, dancing was for sissy’s.

I have never had dancing lessons, I am in my fifties now, but I have rhythm  – I know that I had potential as an innate fact, but I lacked opportunity, I lacked courage, and I lacked belief.

I was driving home from work recently in silence, as I do, so that I can hear my inner voice and this thought came into my head, that if I had a second life, I would be a dancer – I’d train to be a ballet dancer.

As it happens, I have no concept of a re-birth, but what I do know is that my first life, my first chance is still going, I live, I am, I can be.

I smiled to myself, when I reflected that often, I say to my wife, when we are sat watching the TV in our night wear, “hey, look at them legs” (sorry reader – I am referring here to my own legs, although hers are nice too!).

I stretch out my leg to reveal the well formed muscle down the calf, stretch the foot outward and the big toe upward – It looks like a ballet leg.

Sometimes, when I am stood in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil, I swing my leg backwards and forwards, holding the leg outward in front of me with heel turned up and foot and toe extended – it looks to me like a ballet pose.

These actions speak to me of at least trying to connect with what is, even at a basic level, at least I try to connect to what is.

I know that it is perhaps a tad too late to play the Prince, in Swan Lake, but it is not too late for me to experience ballet steps.

My next blog will be: Intensity

William Defoe

Last Sunday morning, as I reclined in bed, holding in both of my hands a big cup of tea, a question came into my head – shall I stay in bed?

This question really translated to – shall I skip Mass today?

I never miss going to Mass on the Sabbath day, so why should such a thought come into my head and have some semblance of attraction, if I was to answer in the affirmative – yes, I will stay in bed and in doing so, I shall skip going to Mass today.

The good part of the question, is that I am asking the question, and I can see that an element of my journey to live in the present is to be looser in the application of the choices I make in my life – to have a greater capacity to wonder at the possibilities of otherness in my life.

In answering the call from within to stay in bed, and stay away from Mass, I could most certainly have expressed this as a positive response of my growing capacity to be responsive in the moment (not reactive, but responsive) to the call of my soul.

I most likely will be a “cradle to grave” Catholic.

My belief in Jesus Christ is pretty much an integral part of my identity, as is my same sex attraction, and the love I have for my wife and children, no matter how hard I push against all of this at times.

I have expressed my faith in Christ through the practices and rituals of the Catholic Church all of my life and it is through the expression of the sacraments and the teachings of the Catholic Church,that I feel the fullness of that expression of my faith, despite the problems experienced by the human elements of the institution.

I recognise that in my search to express my truth, I do not have to choose between one element by subjugating another, I must try to be open to the fullness of my truth to feel fully alive and present in my heart.

I drink my tea, it has gone slightly cold, what with all my musing, I get out of bed, shower and get ready for Mass just like I do every week.

I am satisfied, that I have asked the question  – this came from within – I am satisfied that I answered the question – this came from within – I am living in the present!

Shall I stay in bed today?

Yes, I will for a little while, and then I will attend to the spiritual needs of my soul.

My next blog will be: Ballet Steps

William Defoe

One of the ways that I am working hard to resolve the conflicts within my family life has been by making connections.

After years of carrying the truth about my same sex attraction alone and in isolation, I recognised that during that very long period, I had effectively isolated myself from those whom, given the right circumstances, may have been able to help me.

As my acceptance of self has developed at an amazing pace, I sought to make connections among my siblings, whom I had held at arms length, for many years.

I had to break down those barriers, because I had erected them piece by piece, and ask them to meet with me over a coffee or a beer or for a walk etc.

I was grateful for the ease with which they readily agreed to help me, and initially I had quite regular meetings with my brothers and my sisters on a 1:1 basis.

In recent months the frequency of our meetings has dropped of in some cases, and I went through a period of feeling resentful, but I have moved on from that negative feeling.

I have come to terms with the fact that it is not all about me. The world of my siblings does not revolve around me, and if I need them, I need to say so and they will come, they will come running.

The connection is not lost, just because we don’t meet as often, but it would be sensible for me to keep the connection alive by way of phone calls and occasional contact.

In recent weeks, I have moved my focus to making connections with my adult children. The outward focus of my development in recent months has enlightened my understanding that I had in the past pushed them away too.

I was conscious that I had not transitioned myself well between the role of a father of adoring and adorable children, and my role as a father of adults with independent minds, hearts and spirits.

I have been meeting each of my adult children alone for coffees and beers and walks, and I have noticed that all my old fears that they had forgotten how to love me, was misguided and wrong.

I had failed to let them in to my life of suffering, I had failed to let them show me their compassion and love, and I had failed to show them, that my love was unconditional now and forever.

These new connections, particularly with one of my adult children, for whom I thought that our relationship was irreparably damaged goes from strength to strength.

By making connections, I have let the light into the dark spaces of the past and illuminated the happy memories which had been buried too, and opened up a joyous hope of a much happier existence in the present.

[For this, I thank my wonderful Integral Coaching coach, for it is with her help, that the capacity of my mind for expansive thought, has been opened and transformed]

My next blog will be: Shall I Stay In Bed?

William Defoe

I think I am similar to most people, who as part of their daily routine, look at themselves in the mirror to check their face and features before setting out to face the world.

Depending on my mood, I might venture to express an opinion of vanity on how fortunate the world is to have the opportunity to look at my visage.

I know that I often tell my wife how lucky she is to have me to behold, but I never quite get a sense that she feels as lucky as I think she should be!

I have spent a few years focusing on self. I have been trying to come to terms with aspects of my truth which I had rejected in the past.

This inward focus  – turning in on the mind and expanding its capacity to accept a much wider spectrum of being in the world has been important and rewarding work, because it has lead me to a calmer existence.

When I look into my own eyes, I feel strangely disconcerted.

It is a curious sensation to look into the apparatus which I use daily to observe the world.

First of all, my eyes are beautiful – look at your own – look into them and you will see that yours are too – it is not vanity that I speak – it is truth.

I have noticed that when I look into my eyes, I see first of all, the current emotion of my life reflected back at me – sad eyes perhaps, or happy eyes – but this is not the eyes communicating  – this is the work of the face pulling on the eye sockets to change their shape, or a tear duct revealing a fount of moisture.

If I remain focused on the eyes and see past the emotion of the moment, I come over quite funny – it feels a tad embarrassing -it reminds me of the feeling that you get when you lock eyes with another person across a room – there is a momentary connection which may lead to an exchange which results in something very intimate.

When I look into my eyes, I experience a very deep and intimate connection with self – I have nowhere to hide from who and what I am, and I look longingly in to them, so that the uncomfortable sensation is overcome by an intensity of love, an intensity of gratitude, an intensity of hopefulness, and an intensity of belief.

Thank you for my eyes Almighty God and Father, for they reveal the world to me, they reveal me to the world and they reveal you to me, the creator of all.

My next blog will be: Making Connections

William Defoe

I struggle to see what possible benefit there is from sneezing.

When I sneeze, I tend to experience a sudden explosion of uncontrollable, unstoppable, force which is accompanied by the most deafening noise.

And then there is the aftermath, the search for collateral damage on my face, clothes, lap, steering wheel – even my wife!

A grope for a tissue to compose myself, and clean myself down.

Then there are the words I say in expressing to myself or anyone prepared to listen that the sneeze was awful, it came from nowhere, I could not stop it.

What’s the point of a sneeze anyway?

The sound of laughter in the room from those who find the whole episode of a sneeze, so alarming and uncouth.

The sound of my wife saying, do you have to make that noise? would you make that sound if you were at work – my answer, yes I would as it is a bodily function outside of my control.

How similar my grotesque sneezes are to my outbursts, in the past, of uncontrollable anger.

The sudden explosion of uncontrollable, unstoppable, force which is accompanied by the most deafening noise because I was unable to control my immediate reaction to a situation  with which I could not cope.

And then there is the aftermath, the search for collateral damage on the faces of my family, and the emotional damage caused to them and self because I was unable to control my reaction to an opposing view in the moment.

A grope for a tissue to compose myself, and clean myself down and wipe away my tears of frustration and regret.

Then there is the awful silence in expressing to self that the anger was awful, it came from nowhere, I could not stop it.

The sound of tears in the room from those who find the whole episode of my anger, so alarming and uncouth.

The sound of my wife saying, do you have to make that noise? would you make that sound if you were at work – my answer, no I would not  because I know that I cannot react in that way at work.

So, my anger is different to a sneeze, because it is not a  bodily function outside of my control.

In my current life of living in the present, I do admit to experiencing and expressing anger at times, much less frequently, but it is managed so much differently from the past similarities with a violent sneeze.

When I feel anger rise within me , I have warning of it, I sense it coming, and even this may still not stop me expressing it, but I am on to it, it’s expression is controlled.

Whilst I am in it, I am conscious of having a choice to continue, or to continue less noisily, more conversationally, or to shut up all together.

Anger is no longer for me comparable to an uncontrollable sneeze, my search for truth and love of self has brought this aspect of outward expression of my pain under control, and for me and those whom I love, it has arrived not a minute too soon.

Achoo!    oh how disgusting, anyone got a tissue,  oh , and a mop please ?!

My next blog will be: When I Look Into My Eyes

William Defoe

I have noticed recently that I have a tendency to experience my anxieties, stresses and worries as a weight – a heaviness of the heart or the head, I’m not sure which!

At the current time, I have felt troubled by changes occurring in my place of work, with my fabulous boss leaving the organisation and a member of my team handing in his notice.

On the one hand, I have known the boss was going to go for quite a few weeks, but the loss of a team member came as quite a surprise.

I have been asking myself how I come to terms with these shifts which are beyond my control.

First I tell myself, they a are not my losses!

These are valid choices, by the individuals concerned, which are totally understandable and within their interests in terms of their own career progression.

Second I ask myself, why am I burdened by it?, what is this nagging fear that this weight of change has opened up within me?

It seems that inwardly I need to somehow experience the change, to feel it, to wonder how it affects me in my work role.

Will a change in leadership affect my own position?

Will the changes affect my own sense of safety?

Will the change open up opportunities for me which although I feel ready for, do I want them?

So the weight of change is an inner response to matters beyond my control and also to matters within my control.

So my burden has been halved already, just by thinking it through.

For the rest of it I will have to be patient for what enfolds in the future whilst I remember that I am not some helpless victim being tossed about at the mercy of those around me.

I am a highly intelligent and articulate man, capable of making choices of my own.

My next blog will be: Sneeze

William Defoe