Overhanging the path along the side of the canal, on which one of my running routes takes me, I am momentarily protected from above by the overhanging shoots of several weeping willows.

I ask myself, how it is, that the overhanging branches of the weeping willow seem to stop just above my head, whilst on the canal side they are strewn just above the water.

I’m not an arborist, but I imagine they are sensitive to the upward draft of the air as people walk along and therefore control their own growth to stay above the movement below them.

They are so incredibly beautiful and mysterious too.

To be among the branches of the weeping willow, however fleetingly, is akin to feeling a sense of security, to be safe under its protection in the eerie ambiance of its foliage, which seems to me, to hold within, its own light and sound whilst keeping out the distractions and temptations and noise from the outside world.

As I run through the overhang, and quickly emerge, I have enjoyed carrying along with me on the path an inner transformation from the weeping willow.

A feeling of self-hood and calm and truth which is safely held within me despite the world.

My next blog will be: The Woman in a Dress of The Wind

William Defoe

In recent weeks I have been less open with my wife than I have been in the past her.

I have taken back some control over my free time, and I have applied this to the areas of my soul which have been deprived for too long.

At the beginning of my journey to know and love self, which immediately followed my admission to my wife that I was gay, we promised to love each other, remain faithful and be open.

In the intervening years, those ideals have been compromised on both sides by a sense of fear which has its origins in a breakdown of trust.

So easy has it been for both of us, to use against the other, those little nuggets of information which were designed in their original openness and honesty to be bonds, now turned in anger and fear into weapons designed to control and hold in what needed to be liberated and free.

The openness and honesty has now settled into protect and preserve, and an absolute determination on my part to be free of unjustified control and unmitigated fear.

My wife said to me recently that she no longer knows the difference between truth and lies.

I responded to say that there are no lies, only truth – and truth is honest even when it is difficult.

I explained that I am suffering too because I have been hurt and misunderstood.

I have been open in the past about everything, but for the last five years I have perceived in her a desire to control me and to keep me scared at a time when I needed to feel accepted and loved.

“I am no longer scared and I will not be controlled by you, but if you look at me and hold me and you accept me then I think we can make it work”

My next blog will be: Weeping Willow

William Defoe

I evolved into the truth of my gay sexuality only after I was married with three young children.

I chose to suppress my feelings for my own sex, to honour the commitments I had made to my wife, and to fulfill my responsibilities as a father to my children.

After twenty-five years of marriage, many of which I had lived under the shadow of my truth, I emerged into the light by informing my wife that I was gay.

In recent years, since I made that announcement to her, we have both made heroic attempts to remain faithful and committed to our marriage and to our joint values as parents and as a couple with responsibilities to fulfill to our family and our friends.

I have been through the most wonderful and transforming coaching process,  and through this development of self, I have grown my capacity to know and love self and to accept my sexuality as an integral and welcomed and special part of what makes me the loving and caring and compassionate person that I am.

My sexuality remains hidden from a large number of my acquaintance and this has continued to serve a sense of isolation within me.

Late last year, I was introduced to a beautiful gay married couple and I was able, for the first time to experience the wonder of being seen as a gay man in the community from which my lifestyle choice has prevented me from  joining.

I have spent the time since meeting them, pondering on ways in which I can bring my sexuality to a social environment without compromising the commitments I have made to my wife.

My wife has been scared by her experience of the loss of control which I percieved she held over me over my secret truth, but the truth is that I am no longer scared and I absolutely refuse to be controlled in this matter from outside pressure to conform.

The only pressure I will tolerate is the pressure I exert from within, the only control I will tolerate is the control I exercise over my experiences which keep me faithful to my marriage vow.

The issues in my marriage have felt like a crisis as I have pushed forward with the socialization of my sexuality in space which I have created for myself.

In an effort to end my isolation, I have felt a further isolation in often not feeling accepted by those with whom I aspire to belong.

Perhaps this is because in my choice to remain married to my wife, whom I love with all my heart,  I am by necessity holding back.

This reserve, however, does not negate the essential step I have taken to socialise my sexuality and to be seen in the fullness of my truth.

My next blog will be: Truth and Lies

William Defoe

Recently, I was able to spend a few days at the coast with my wife here in the United Kingdom and we were visited by various members of our family during our stay.

My prevailing mood was good, and I was able to rest and relax in the days of pleasant sunshine.

Underneath the surface throughout my summer break, my heart churned as I tried desperately to come to terms with the nagging question in my head that cried interminably for space.

I thought that a holiday was by definition, a place for space, but what my heart really needed was solitude.

My life is at a crossroads, and in recent weeks, I have turned left, walked a few metres and then turned back, and continued straight ahead, repeating the sideways manoeuvre many, many times.

The path on which I have lived my life, has been a good one, and it feels the safest option to stay on it and be fulfilled in married and family life until the end of my life.

However, the call from within yearns for turn to the left at the crossroads, and calls on me to embrace fully my reality and truth of soul to be a gay man.

My summer break did not afford me the time or the space to answer the call, so I keep going ahead, over each crossroad, bearing the anguish of indecision and the burden of truth, until I can find the solitude I need to fathom the unfathomable call of my soul for peace.

My next blog will be: The Socialisation Of My Sexuality

William Defoe

Earlier this summer, we were advised by our doctor to cancel our planned holiday to Spain as a result of ongoing concerns over my wife’s health.

It was a bit of a shock, and despite the obvious concern I had for my wife, who at that time seemed a little improved, I was disappointed.

My disappointment had its basis in the upset the cancelled holiday would have to the rhythm of my life, which is punctuated by long periods of hard and stressful work, punctuated with occasional weeks of rest and sun.

In the week we should have been away, we had a short weekend break and then I went to work.

All week I had this sense that in all the events which took shape in my life each day, these were experiences which I should not have been having.

I was here instead of there.

The exacting routine of my holiday plans of :

run –

breakfast –

walk –

sunbed –

lunch –

paint or read –

balcony –

meal –

alcohol –

sex -sleep

was replaced by a week of deadlines, pressure and frustration.

The experience made me think about how I often fear the unknown when I consider changing the fundamental pattern of my life, for something more in tune with the call of my soul to be me.

The experience of being here, instead of there provided me with an insight into the ramifications of making a choice, to do something different to the normal course of events in my life, and how I would no doubt be feeling a sense of loss or disappointment if the new type of life I chose, did not measure up to the one I had left behind.

But that logic is flawed, that logic is skewed, that logic is false, because it pre-determines the outcome before the journey begins, and it puts a rose-coloured glint on my current experience which does not reflect the pain and the struggle that I have experienced over many years.

It might have rained on my planned holiday, I might have been fallen and twisted my ankle, I might have eaten some dodgy food etc etc etc – my view of how life would have been “there” whilst I was “here” was nothing more than imaginings.

The reality is that life, is experienced as it is here, in the present moment, and the alternative is as thin as the air so long as it is a choice forsaken.

The important part, is to be able to respond to the call of self and to live the choice made, rather than look back or across to the choice which is not made.

My next blog will be: Raindrops In My Tea

William Defoe

When I was about ten years old, my friends locked me in a neighbours cupboard as part of the play.

It wasn’t intended to hurt me, but it did.

Realizing that I was trapped in the cupboard, I became incredibly anxious to get out, but my means of escape was not in my hands, it was in the hands of others.

I have periodically had nightmares about that event, despite the passing of the years, because in those moments – and they were only moments – I experienced a deep trauma and helplessness, the like of which I had never experienced before.

In my life at the present moment, I have all those feelings of being trapped in a cupboard, but I am struck by the thought, that I am the one who has the means of escape. I am not dependent on anybody else to free me from my place of fear.

It is as if I am sat in the cupboard again, with the door fast shut, but it is I who is holding on to the handle and pulling it towards me to keep me fastened in.

What is it about the world outside that I am so scared of?

Outside of my marriage, I can sense a liberation, but I also sense doubt, a loss of my capacity to be a friend to my wife whom I love.

My need, which is ever growing for me to be part of the gay community, to whom I rightfully belong, is an enormous burden in my heart which is held fast behind the cupboard door.

My chest heaves, and my heart sighs, and my mind swoons over and over and over but still I hold onto that door, keeping me safe from the truth, keeping me safe from the courage I need, keeping me safe from being who I am meant to be.

My next blog will be: Being Here Instead of There

William Defoe

I have finally forced my garden in to submission following long periods of manual labour to :

• clear away the weeds;
• chop down branches;
• jet wash the patio;
• scrub the brick paving with a wire brush;

and then the nice bits:

• of planting flowers;
• hanging baskets;
• buying and hanging :
• wind-charms;
• bird feeders;
• bird boxes;
• fairy lights
• lanterns and candles.

The aching body, scratched arms, cut fingers, bruised knees have finally resulted in a place of beauty in which I can hope to spend some pleasant evenings having my meals outside or sitting on the bench reading a book or drinking a beer, or reclining on a sun lounger in my boxers!

However, it is the manual labour which has felt important through this period of time.

The physical effort, compliments the mental effort of living and for me at this time, it has been very noticeable.

Hard manual labour, especially for someone like me who works in a service industry, is an opportunity to feel my thoughts within my body.

It is as if my worries and pressures translate themselves from my head directly to my fingertips and toes.

My body, is its own ecology, it is its own island, its own universe and to feel in the body as well as in the head, is to experience  its full vigour; its vitality; its fruit.

My next blog will be: Trapped in a Cupboard

William Defoe

Earlier this week, I reached the age at which my maternal grandmother died in 1955.

At this age too, an uncle of mine died, and more recently a much loved cousin.

No wonder, perhaps then, that I contemplate more seriously, what this year has in store for me, and how best I can respond to the deep longings of my heart to face and live up to my truth.

I have this fear, that I will leave my life one day, without having lived it.

To live my life, is to respond to the call within, to live with integrity, to live with honesty, to live with truth.

I have interpreted this for many years, as it having its fullest meaning in conforming to the values of those around me, to the principles of my faith, to avoid being a disappointment.

At 54, I am emerging strongly into an interpretation of living my life, by listening to the call of my soul, to give my life its full expression with integrity, honesty and truth.

My next blog will be: Manual Labour

William Defoe