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

Readybrek is a famous and popular breakfast cereal in the UK.

It is a porridge type substance which I remember being marketed for children as a warm start for the day.

TV Adverts in the 1970’s, when I was a child, showed children leaving their homes for school on cold, dark mornings with a readybrek glow around them  – like an invisible heating system around their outline from head to toe to protect them from the cold.

As a child, I used to associate the readybrek glow with what it would be like to see your own soul.

The soul, I was taught in my Catholic Education, is the essence of God in my body, which has been wiped clean from the stain of original sin by virtue of my baptism.

It is the part of us, unseen, which transcends death and is therefore the part of us which survives in heaven for eternity.

I have been reminded recently of my old associations of the readybrek glow and my understanding of soul, by my reaction to some uncertainty which has arisen in my life at work.

My fabulous boss has announced that she will be leaving later this year and I have felt unsettled by her announcement.

In the past, before I found a way of living my life in the present, I had no way of deflecting concerns about what might or might not happen in the future. It was a feeling that I had of dread, brought about by an understanding that the world was happening to me and that I was powerless to do anything about it, and my life as a result was going to implode.

Through my development, through Integral Coaching and my own onward reflections and study following the guidance I receive, I have become aware again of my readybrek glow and I feel that I have a certain level of protection/resilience, which I have not experienced for many, many years.

This readybrek glow, my soul now re-claimed within me, tells me that I do not have to react to news that my boss is leaving as if the world is about to end, but instead to be curious, perhaps even excited about what the future will bring.

In other words, my readybrek glow is protecting my soul from spoiling this moment, my life today because of what may or may not happen tomorrow.

My next blog will be: Olympics

William Defoe

Duty     by Ellen S. Hooper

Have you ever noticed how difficult it can be to see your own reflection in a steamed up mirror?

I think that the effect condensation has on my reflection in a mirror, is a good metaphor for living a life where self does not acknowledge truth.

The outline is barely recognisable and the purpose obscured whilst the condensation blocks the view of my face.

If you stand for a while, the mist over the reflection will lift, but I have never had the patience to wait, so a towel or my elbow or hand would wipe away the dampness to reveal a less than perfect view of my visage, peeping through the dispersed droplets of water on the mirror.

My journey to self started with that same obscured view of self. I had lost sight of who I was, and I was too afraid to find out or acknowledge to myself, and those I love, what in fact I looked like (on the inside).

In a state of fear and anguish, I settled for a life of obscurity for many years and my frustration boiled over into anger, resentment with myself, and those whom I love, and I also experienced isolation, as I rejected their offers to help me.

I have noticed that if you open a window in the presence of condensation, the mist will lift cleanly and more speedily.

If you have the window open whilst a bath is being run,  or during a shower, the mist won’t appear in the mirror at all.

My eventual decision to confide the truth about my feelings for my own sex, to my wife was like opening a window – at last my image and truth was revealed in the mirror of my life.

My next decision I took was to invest in my own development, through Integral Coaching, and this is like having a shower with the window open, because in focusing on living in the present I am unlikely to lose sight of self.

[This piece is my 200 post – these posts are a key part of my journey to know self and express self and knowing that I have some readers out there all over the world, liberates me from my isolation and fear and connects me to you all – thank you].

My next blog will be: Duty

William Defoe

Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

I’ve been trying to lose myself, or is it actually better described as, trying to find myself, in the beautiful words of Mary Oliver in her poem Wild Geese.

It draws me into the essence, of what has been at the heart of my struggle, which is to be able to accept myself for who and what I am, not to repent of it but in the beautiful words of Mary Oliver to “love what it loves”

It draws me into the invitation of the world, to claim my legitimate place within it, as who I am, not who I have been expected to be by those who have claimed a right over me, and even harder still, from my own conditioning of self, which won’t allow me to break free.

It draws me to the suffering of others, and allows me to contemplate that my struggle has parallels in all living things in the world, whoever we are.

It draws me to this concept of huge physical space, in which my emotional life can flourish, so that across the landscape of the world to the sky above and the deep waters below, I can bring myself, and my truth, as an equal part of all the wonders of creation.

It draws me to my spiritual life, my faith now seen as a liberator, no longer a tormentor – my faith has not undertaken a change but my attitude to its as a harsh judge – an unjust judge and unfair judge has been swept away through my tears to a connection that God loves me in the fullness of my truth, and nothing can change that now or ever.

It draws me to freedom – the freedom of the Wild Geese soaring above calling out to the world and each other – I have lived a life of serious inhibition of freedom to thrive because of the hurt, the fear, the anguish and the immense emotional struggle which has held me back – no more will it be like that for me.

My next blog will be: Condensation

William Defoe