The month of January is a month in which I am prone to a period of feeling down, below par.

This year is turning out to be no exception, however, I have noticed a new sense of resilience to feelings of being depressed, helpless and anxious.

Its a feeling of sensing the January Blues without actually having them.

I’m not depressed, I’m lively and alert and articulate.

I’m not helpless, I’m active and busy and comfortable being at rest.

I’m not anxious, I’m thriving, despite feeling under a lot of pressure at work and feeling overwhelmed with issues at home too.

My coaching experience has enabled me to be present in whatever my day to day experience brings and to use all powers at my disposal to deflect away a tendency which I had in the past to succumb to my mood and lose energy and interest.

It is ludicrous to write-off January and wish it away – it is a 12th of my life and I am determined to experience this cold and dark season as positively as I can.

I’ve slept more hours – and what is wrong with that, I’ve cut down the alcohol, I’ve run and lost the Christmas lbs and I’ve painted a watercolour and even picked up my book.

Yesterday I watched a box set – 5 one hour episode of a police drama and I have not felt one bit guilty for it – I needed the rest and stimulation and the distraction and I took it for myself.

In the background my old fears and feelings linger as if they were a bird of prey circling for movement in the long grass below.

I’ve grown the long grass, I’ve developed a sense of safety and resilience from the January Blues and I’m the one making the most of what each day brings by living them in the present.

My next blog will be: The Newsletter

William Defoe

Last week, 6th January being the Epiphany, we took the Christmas decorations down which had adorned our home.

As we did so, a new neighbour, whom we have only recently met, called to pick up a parcel which had been left for him at our home.

As I handed over the parcel we exchanged pleasantries on whether we had respectively enjoyed the Christmas festivities.

I said, we would ask you in for a drink and a longer chat, but we are just taking down the Christmas decorations, at which he said, “oh so you’re a traditionalist” ours were down last week after New Year.

I said “well yes, I suppose we are traditionalists”

Later, as I reflected on the brief exchange with our new neighbour, I wondered what it meant for me to be perceived as a traditionalist.

In the context of Christmas, I suppose he might have been insinuating that I was religious, or a christian, and in the absence of knowing us very well, this could have opened up in his mind a whole range of assumptions and opinions about us, some of which would be accurate and others inaccurate.

Of course, I do have a religious dimension to my life, I am a person of deep faith, I believe in Jesus Christ, but my relationship with God is not the same as my relationship with the church.

The church has been mis-managed to varying degrees over the centuries, by corrupt, criminal, authoritarian men, and also women, who have used their power to subjugate the faithful into obedience through fear and worse, abuse.

However, it has also been run over the same period of time, by men and women who love God, and through their faith in Jesus Christ, have brought healing and compassion and love to those in need, which is all of us, regardless of creed, colour, age, sex, orientation, or gender, in some cases devoting their whole lives to the poor, the lonely, the hungry and the sad.

I think being a traditionalist, defines me as a man who wants to keep the traditions and to be honest most of the teachings of the Catholic Church, but that should not preclude anyone from being made welcome to join the journey of faith.

My understanding of my faith and beliefs has evolved over time and sometimes I feel at odds with some aspects of what the church teaches but it does not mean that I want the teaching to change.

I want the accessibility of understanding it to change, and for me/us to be allowed to doubt, to be curious, to be confused, so that it becomes a welcomed part of my/our experience and expression of it.

My next blog will be: January Blues

William Defoe

I’ve read my first book of the New Year!

“The Tiger and the Acrobat” by Susanna Tamaro.

It has thrilled me with nuggets of philosophy throughout its beautiful chapters, as tiger tries to find her identity and independence.

I was struck by moments when tiger sensed a feeling of disappointment for perceiving that she had let her parents down in some way, by not following the same course of life as they had lived, and which they had expected her to live.

Far worse, I think, to have done the opposite, as I did, and followed a culture and a tradition appropriate for my parents which was not suited to the world I experienced within and without.

So much has changed, even in my lifetime in the way that open, western societies have recognised a persons need to be an individual.

Eventually, in this beautiful book, the tiger listens to her heart and she searches within for the gemstone which defines her truth.

In truth, the book needs a second read, which I am resolved to do this very soon, and no doubt subsequent reads in the future, when the shape of the words and the language will no doubt speak to my own heart in the moment in which it finds itself.

I have lived my life faithful to the aspirations of my parents, and the anguish that my choices have caused in my own life, and those whom I love, some of whom who do not know that I am gay, has been an ordeal from which I am only just beginning to emerge.

This reality of self, and my awakening to my truth, has enabled me to accept the choices which my adult children have made, for their own happiness which in some cases are different to the choices I have hoped they would make.

This has had a liberating effect on my soul, and on my relationships with them, and I know that no matter how things turn out, I want to be with them in their happiness and in their sorrows, because if I do not welcome and embrace everything, I make my experience smaller, pitiful and calculated* 

My next blog will be: Being Called a Traditionalist

William Defoe

*based on words of Susanna Tamaro

Earlier this week, I was out running on a particularly cold, dark and windy morning before work.

My path was strewn with branches which were difficult to navigate in the dark and unlit paths, particularly in the woods I crossed.

At one point, my left foot snagged in a branch on the path and my right foot freed it at force, as it pushed through with the next step, snapping the branch just in time to release my leg and prevent a fall.

As I have journeyed through my recent years of self-development, I have learned how to thrive in the here and now, despite the challenges; the obstacles; the risks and the pitfalls which have sometimes been a significant part of my life experience.

The important lesson for me has been to learn to welcome these moments, however long they last, as an important aspect of my soul’s experience.

It is from the challenges which I have experienced, that I have developed a capacity to respond; to reflect; to bring balance and a wider context and scope, so that my previous tendency to be overwhelmed for long periods of time has been mitigated by my voice, calling me from within, to welcome it all.

The moments I spent on the path strewn with branches was punctuated by leaps and twists and brutal force to make sure that I kept going; kept focus; kept thinking; kept reveling in the joy of mental freedom in my mind, which was accompanied by the joy of movement in my body, which both were informing my soul that I am alive; that I am free; that I am me.

My next blog will be:  Nuggets of Philosophy

William Defoe

The start to 2018 has been better that it was at the start of last year, which had been embroiled in a futile and damaging row with my adult child.

I have been able to repair the damage, and I have allowed myself to move on from the anguish and disappointment which the exchange of angry words  between us caused.

I sometimes experience my life as being intolerable, but as this new year starts, I feel calm within.

I know that I need a male companion. I need for someone to see me fully for who I am, because all the self-interrogation into my inner soul has lead to a cry outwardly for recognition and compassion.

I need to find ways to connect outwardly more fully with what I am within, and this is a great challenge because despite my growing sense of self-hood, I fear what may happen to those whom I love and those who will be hurt in some way by my truth.

I am fortunate enough to be supported on my journey by a trusted few, and it is through their belief and their love that I draw the strength I need to face each day.

As 2018 starts, I sense momentum, I sense progress, I sense hope that sometime soon I will finally be me.

My next blog will be: tbc

William Defoe

This review is concerned with what I have learned about self in 2017.

I have learned that I have further to go on my journey to know and love self and that I still hope for the love and support of others as I finally start to make the tracks which will lead to new beginnings in my life.

I am broken, but that does not mean that I am without hope, it means I am aware of the full extent of my suffering and I have found the means to manage it; by knowing it; by speaking to it; by longing for it to find its true expression.

During 2017, I have searched further and deeper than ever before to find the me within my soul and its clarity and its beauty are calling for me to respond; to be curious; to seek advice; to act with honesty and integrity.

I make no resolutions for the future excepting for my increasing desire to find my life more fully each day by living it in the present.

To live fully is to face the truth head on; it is to find those missing parts which call out constantly from deep within my tormented soul, and to be brave enough to face whatever comes without fear and with hope.

My next blog will be: 2018

William Defoe

It has been my firm resolve over the Christmas period to remain calm at all times.

I have been successful, but it has come at a price.

It has meant that I have actively dissuaded myself from the excitement  – the ups, because I have begun to understand that feelings of euphoria can swing all so easily to feelings of despondency and worse in me, anger.

I have been calm.

I have steered myself through a narrow course of feeling, and in doing so I have experienced a deeper sense of peace, a deeper sense of rest; a deeper sense of being alert to the issues around me.

These have at times caused me to feel pain and anxiety over situations within my family, and within my relationships which are no longer under my control, but there is hope, in that recognising the issues, I can at a later date work to use my influence sensitively and appropriately to help things improve.

I have sensed within me a need to be with self, and I have taken some time to do just that.

I drift off into my own thoughts, where at times, I feel overwhelmed with sadness and I have enjoyed being able to be with it so that I understand my hunger; my longings and my resistance and reasoning to these things more fully.

All this is contained within the throng of a full and lively Christmas with all my family and friends at different times throughout the season.

I have come to understand that a full and active family and social life is a blessing; and so too is the religious side of my life and especially in this Christmas season, but my intention to be calm has enabled me to be curious; interested; detached; and involved so that my tendency to anger and disappointment has been replaced with a tendency to just be.

My next blog will be: 2017

William Defoe

This year, at my suggestion, Santa did his drop off to our family home at 4.00pm on Christmas Eve, in advance of the family leaving to attend the first Mass of Christmas and then out for the evening with friends.

In all other years, this tradition has unfolded after the Mass and evening out with friends at the point at which we are ready for going to bed.

My wife seemed sad. I sensed it in her demeanor and I asked her what was the matter.

“We normally do this later and somehow it does not feel right” she said. I held her.

I reminded her of our reasoning, for the changing of tradition which has its origins in trying to diffuse the tensions and unrealistic expectations of adult children who have grown past the age of magic, but still cling on to the hope of its return.

I think in changing the tradition, the magic is given a chance to return, because the old ways of doing things and their association with a time which is lost, can be given new life and refreshment through changing the timing and adjusting the dimension of things.

When we arrived at our home much later on Christmas Eve, we entered the living room where the magic was already waiting.

Gone was the tiredness, and gone was the over bearing expectation, and in its place was beauty and calm.

We had a small sherry and toasted Santa, before donning our caps and our kerchiefs for a long winter nap.

My next blog will be: Being Calm

William Defoe

Earlier this year, an elderly lady, who became my friend, died.

I had visited her each week after Sunday Mass, and we discussed the sermon which I recited to her, the parish and community news, my family life and we even strayed into world events and politics.

She was a remarkable lady and yet in all the years I knew her, she never once left her home and she lived a quite solitary but fulfilling life.

On Christmas Eve, I used to take my family to see her, and I would sing a selection of Christmas Carols to her before going to celebrate Christmas.

This year, with the permission of her sisters who live away from here, I went back into the old and empty house, letting myself in with a key which I still hold.

I ventured into the room where my friend died and I said a prayer for her.

I then moved into the kitchen where the two chairs in which we sat, aside the fire (which was lit on a low light) were situated.

I sat in my chair, and looked over at hers. I sang quietly the beautiful Christmas carol, Away in a Manger.

I was struck by the last sentence in which the carol ends “…and fit us for heaven to live with thee there” and although I had not planned it, the words felt appropriate and right for the moment, because I believe that is where she is.

I then went into the nosey part of my visit (with the express permission of her family) and I went to look around this magnificent empty old house, which has huge rooms on three floors.

It had lots of evidence, despite being largely empty of the christian heritage on which the family had left its mark, for there were crucifixes on the walls and religious pictures and pious books among the rest on the book cases.

Once these remaining items are cleared and some items sold, the empty house will be sold, a new life will transform it for the next generations to come.

As I left this empty house for the last time, I too felt transformed by the memories of the past, by my love for my dear friend, for all my hope for the future, as I entered into my own celebrations, once again, for the Birth of Christ.

My next blog will be: Changing Traditions

William Defoe

One morning last week, I had to drive to an office away from my own regular place of work, for a meeting at the start of the day.

The weather had been unseasonably cold, and as I drove along the side of a field, I caught sight of three adorable horses, wrapped in their winter coats, leaning their heads over the stone perimeter wall onto the pavement where people walked by.

At the same moment, I noticed a young man walking towards them on the pavement wearing big headphones and clearly in his own world (of music – I presume!),

But to my utter delight, after hesitating, he turned back and patted each horse on its nose, gently and unassumingly before I lost sight of that happy scene.

I think my heart was warmed by this event because the contact between man and horse(s) was not arranged or pre-determined, rather it was a set of circumstances which conspired, in the moment, for the horses to be stood at the wall and the random man to recognise their need.

Only after a hesitation, and then by going back to the horses, was their need for recognition and physical contact met which they seemed to crave.

How nice it would be if we could all try to see the need in others and respond by look, nod or touch to let them know that they are not alone.

My next blog will be: Empty Home

William Defoe