First I Dreamt The Journey – Part 19 – Change

I am grateful too for the discovery that change is the only constant.

We are human. We are not comfortable with change; yet to go forward we must embrace it.

We can spend days or months or years in cul-de-sacs off the road – cul-de-sacs which offer the illusion of safety and of security and of sanity. But they are just that – illusions. If we are not careful we will spend more and more time bolstering up that illusion. We shore it up with possessions, either in material or human form. We demand pieces of paper to prove our ability. We demonstrate our worthiness by creating a surface which is beautiful and attractive.

We become taken over by patching and fixing and working harder and harder to paper over the cracks – to maintain the illusion. And the faster and harder we work at that, the less time we have to spend on the work that is really required; the less opportunity we give ourselves to step back, to reflect, to look at the bigger picture.

Yet true beauty exists only within the soul. It is available to be seen through the eyes. Far too often nowadays all I see behind eyes is a shallow pool.

The embracing of change begins with willingness. Willingness will open the door to change and will continue to keep that door open. When I first became aware that I needed to change I seemed stuck by a lack of knowledge of how to do that.
So I changed what I could. I started to wear a watch; I had not worn one for years. When I had a bath I sat at the other end from I was used to. I changed the order when I got washed in the morning, brushing my teeth last instead of first. Actually getting washed every morning was also a change. I changed my hair style – out went the sideboards, the length at the back and the quiff; in came a short back and sides and a parting. Small changes perhaps,  Yet every day when I look in the mirror I am reminded that I was willing to change.

To this day I seek to prove to myself that I am willing to change. Although my living space is small, on a regular basis I will change around the position of the furniture, change the pictures and their placement on the wall.
It is a way of ensuring I do not get stuck in my comfort zone, that I do not become a prisoner of my own habits.

Once again my model is the sea. Given that I have the safe foundation of the stepping stones, I want to live my life, as does the sea, in a state of constant flux.

Consider a large house standing on a hill atop the cliff. A top-floor room looks out over the cliffs, over the sea and over the moorland. There is a wind  – 

The wind is howling past my window,
it whistles as it passes through the trees,
it whips their branches to a frenzy,
picks up dead leaves and puts them far away,

insinuates itself in little gaps and crannies;
what’s not securely held gets worried loose,
picked up, moved on, distributed to elsewhere.
The landscape’s changed from what it was before.

The wind dies down and everything is still.

Why is it I am watching through the glass?
The world’s not real when seen through one of those.
Get out, stand willingly in way of storms
and feel the wind as it blows through and past me.

Dead leaves are only clutter in my soul,
what’s loose is best detached and blown away
to leave me cleansed and give me room to grow.
The landscape’s changed from what it was before.

The wind dies down and everything is still.

First I Dreamt the Journey – Part 16 – Kitchen Table

I must give the time and energy to the innermost circle. Its position, at the centre of the rings, demands that.

I must take the time to get to know me, to understand me, to nurture and look after me and to take the risk of loving me.

That process has revealed that within the innermost circle reside large numbers of disparate parts of me. At times these parts can appear to be in conflict. For example, my desire to help others and my need to look after myself can often find themselves at variance.

I am prepared to accept as a premise that each of these parts has my best interests at heart, even though at times it may appear that they are out to destroy me.

There are other hypotheses, but I am adopting this one because, over time, it has proven the most useful.

What has become clear is that it is lack of communication between parts which leads to confusion, bewilderment and uncertainty. And one part operating on its own, convinced it is right, and refusing to listen to input from other parts will inevitably cause disaster.

I must open up lines of communication.

Parts which are running rampant must be assured that I do appreciate they have good intentions, but I must ask them to take the time to consider other options, other information, to be prepared to consider the fuller picture. I must reassure parts which feel neglected, undervalued, under appreciated that I do heed their words, that I do consider their opinion important and that I am willing to listen to them.

I must invite all parts into the kitchen where there is a range glowing warmly on one side of the room, where there is a bottomless teapot on its top, where there is the smell of freshly baking bread and where there is a large, solid wooden table, seemingly marked by generations of use, in the centre of the room.

I must invite them all to sit round the table, to partake in bread and tea and conversation.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Gradually, as the warmth and camaraderie of the kitchen table works its magic we begin to find a harmony and discuss an interdependent, mutually satisfactory wholeness. Gradually there emerges openness, trust and honesty. Each part is encouraged to discuss its intentions, its reasons, its approach and by co-operating we create unity.

The strength of one part becomes available for use by others. Parts with enormous energy, drive, enthusiasm and determination, when persuaded to use those attributes for the benefit of us all, become useful members of the community. The more gentle, reflective parts, when confident they will be listened to, provide a balance, a solace, a comfort and a direction.

And, as long as the kitchen remains an attractive place, other parts, of whose existence I was unaware, will emerge, blinking in the light. Sometimes we have to work quite hard to merge them with the whole, but we must do that because their contribution will be valuable.

I must work to maintain the atmosphere, the ambience of the kitchen. If the fire in the range does not get stoked, if the bread does not get baked, if the butter does not get churned it will become a cold and uninviting place.

I must do the work because it is only in the environs of the kitchen and around its table that the sense of wholeness, of completeness and of unity can be maintained.

　

 

　Audio Version at http://youtube.com/user/DavidAgnewpoet   

 

First I Dreamt the Journey – Part 15 – Inner Circles

Considering the construction of different relationships with time caused me to reflect on the use of time, the use of energy. Was I using time or was I desecrating it? Was my energy, a limited supply, being used constructively or was I wasting it?

Discussing this with the beautiful fairy she picked up a hard stone from the floor of the cave, walked to a blank wall, and scratched a series of concentric rings on the wall – a small one at the centre and circles of increasing size around it.

Pointing to the innermost circle she said “That represents you, the core of you, the essence of you, the you that you really are. The next innermost circle represents the people, the places, the activities that are most important to you, the next innermost circle represents the next level of importance right out to beyond the final circle where reside the the people, places and things which are present in this world but which are of no relevance to you. People, places, and activities may well move from one circle to the next as changes occur in your life and it is likely that the more inner the circle the more static it is liable to be. Nonetheless they are all subject to change.”

Then, before I could ask a question, she vanished. She is prone to do that. I have come to realise, that when she does that, she has given me all the information I need. Working out how to use it is down to me.

Studying the circles and gradually mapping my life against the circles – slotting people, places, and activities into what appeared to be appropriate circles – it soon became apparent that although the circles are present in all our caves, the content of the circles is unique to each and every one of us. It was not possible for me to use some one else’s map and apply it to my circles.

Considering placement in the circles, the answer to my original question about use of time and energy began to emerge – they should be directed towards the innermost circles because those were the most important areas of my life.

And this realisation, itself, lent import to placement. I became very aware of the impact of movement between circles, of my previous tendency to permit admission to an inner circle of people who had by no means earned the right to be there. I became aware also of my tendency to dissipate time in outer circles because the people or activities there provided what seemed like an entertaining diversion.

The circles are carved indelibly on the wall of the cave – the beautiful fairy made sure of that. The content of the individual circles is down to me and is subject to change. I must make certain to re-visit from time to time and to make adjustments as necessary.

Before inviting any one or any activity into an inner circle, and be sure they only arrive there by invitation, I must be sure that they merit the invite. And should time and behaviour prove them not worthy of that place then I must be prepared to move them out again.

Only by making these adjustments can I make good use of time and energy.

　Audio Version at http://youtube.com/user/DavidAgnewpoet

First I Dreamt the Journey – Part 14 – Solitude

Amidst this ebb and flow I became aware that there were of periods of solitude, either forced or sought deliberately. Aware that periods of solitude were the result of choices I had made, decisions I had taken along the way.

It was necessary for me to make a different relationship with solitude. Previously solitude had been experienced as darkness; as aloneness. It is certainly a place where familiar shapes dissolve.

By accepting this I can make different use of solitude. I can decide whether it is to be a lonely place or a place alone, a place of sloth or of creation, a place of deep regret or of reflection.

In reconstructing my interaction with solitude I became aware also that I was making a different relationship with time. Previously solitude had appeared to stretch before me like an eternity. This did not have to be the case.

I can snatch five minutes of solitude in the midst of a busy day and use it to reflect and renew, thus emerging restored as if after a period of long, deep sleep.

I can slow down or speed up time such that long periods of solitude become productive, constructive and appear to have flashed by, often catching me by surprise in the process.

It is easy to choose periods of solitude and to use them in this fashion. Yet when solitude appears enforced we lose sight of that perspective. We can stand in a crowd and feel totally alone or we can suddenly find ourselves on our own when we did not expect it. Solitude in those circumstances can appear black, can appear frightening.

And yet if we are capable of manufacturing changed relationships with solitude and with time when we choose solitude then we have proven we have the ability to do that. We must choose to use that ability.

Audio Version available at http://youtube.com/user/DavidAgnewpoet

First I Dreamt the Journey – Part 12 – Battlefield 5

And then there are the four horsemen. Circling in the distance – tall, straight figures mounted on different coloured horses they are an imposing, threatening presence.

The harridan on my right shoulder will draw on their presence. Attiring herself in a dress to match the colour of a particular horse she will feed me with untruths.

Dressed in white she tells me that the world is a frightening place, that other people are out to get me, to do me down, that the unknown is populated by strange monsters and frightening creatures who are all out to destroy me. She conjures up demons and green dragons with horns on their heads and sharp pointed teeth, making me terrified even to exist. She persuades me that the only safe option is to bury myself, hide away, refuse to enter into unknown territory because to go there is far too dangerous. If I believe her I feel isolated, frightened, alone but

She lies!

Dressed in red she baffles and confuses me. Creating fabricated images which would persuade me wrong is right, black is white. Using my history and twisting it to persuade me that what I thought I knew I did not, that lack of knowledge is constant and that I will never understand. If I believe her I feel fearful, uncertain, frozen but

She lies!

Dressed in black she creates the illusion of blockages, barriers at every turn, hurdles and obstacles, roads that lead to nowhere and are not worth following, mazes from which it is impossible to escape. She persuades me that the difficulties are too great for me ever to overcome. If I believe her I feel blocked, at an impasse, unable to move but

She lies!

Dressed in grey she persuades me that the torch of hope has been extinguished, that I am in the dark, that there will never be light and that when all is black there are no edges. That I might as well give in because I am worthless and that therefore the only option is self-destruction. If I believe her I sink deep within a pool of self pity with no hope of rescue but

She lies!

She always lies; she is a practised and accomplished liar and although, in the four horsemen, she has powerful allies, I must always be aware that she lies. I have the tools to accomplish this, I merely need the courage and fortitude to use them.

I must recognise, and keep being aware, that fear is not absence of courage, that anxiety is not the same as fear, that facing the fear is an act of love and that the antidote to fear is love. I need to consider my actions, my behaviour – for if I am operating out of fear I will always finish up in the wrong place, whereas if I am operating out of love the destination will be okay.

I must recognise that the journey towards knowledge is via confusion, that confusion is a necessary staging post on the way. Sometimes, in fact, I must seek that particular place because often, in order to learn, I must first unlearn.

And I need to learn that she will use my impatience to go forward as an enemy against me. Instead of pressing myself harder and harder against the brick wall while she creates presences behind me trying to harm me, I need to step sideward, seek a secluded place under a tree and reflect on the bigger picture.

And I must remember too, when she would persuade me that I am bereft of hope, that the torch of hope never goes out. The beautiful fairy promised me that, and the beautiful fairy never lies.

　

　Audio version available at http://youtube.com/user/DavidAgnewpoet

First I Dreamt the Journey – Part 11 – Signposts

The product, however, of winning these battles is that the light of their winning will illuminate the signposts I need for direction on the journey.

The signposts are often hidden from immediate view. We need first to find them, then to decipher the words of each direction. The words may have faded, the signposts themselves perhaps tattered, scarred by the passage of time.

But the signposts are there; they are to be discovered; and if the light is shining on them from the correct angle their wording will become clear.

Valid signposts have certain specific characteristics. For me the image which arises in my mind is a wooden post with nailed-on wooden direction pointers, the destinations burnt into the wood. The sort of signpost that could be seen in parts of the west of Ireland during my youth.

Even then it is possible to misread or misinterpret the wording or to erect signposts which are not actually present. I recall a new job, a career move – the ultimate job, my destiny. I followed it through, I moved house, I moved to a new city, I threw myself into the job with enthusiasm. It was only in that process I realized I had erected the signpost to justify the decision instead of the other way round.

It is possible too for the enemy to erect a signpost which appears clear and unequivocal. I need to be aware of this possibility. On occasion I will follow directions which take me up blind alleys. But for sure it is better to be up a blind alley than to be blind.

What is important in making a decision to follow a particular direction is to do it with full conviction. It seems to me impossible, without being able to see into the future, to make a “right” decision – the variables are too manifold and mostly unknown. The option open to me is to try to make the decision right. If, having done that, I find myself up another blind alley, I can always make another decision.

A valid signpost will not only point in a particular direction, but highlight the action required to go in that direction. That is the purpose of the signpost – it defines the choices, the options, the decisions we must make.

The question -Will it nourish me? – in regard to that activity will make sense of the direction. If the activity is not nourishing then why am I following that direction?

In considering whether or not it would be possible for my son to respect me the direction on the signpost read “Behaviour such that if he knew me it would be possible for him to respect me.”

So let the light illuminate the signposts which are there, take a little time to consider their directions, make a decision and then take some action.

And be aware that the experience of following directions is often very different from the expectation!

And the audio version is at http://youtube.com/user/DavidAgnewpoet

　

　

　

First I Dreamt the Journey – Part 8 – Battlefield 2

The benefit of winning that particular battle was to become awake, aware if you like, that the battlefield existed. Aware too that, although I could receive guidance, no map of the territory existed unless I was prepared to draw it myself. And aware that I must go forward, for to go back would be to sink again into the pit from which I had emerged.

And, reflecting on the battle –

Once upon a time,
as I sat on the grass
looking over the lake
a beautiful fairy
sat down beside me.

She held my hand, stroked
the back of it gently
and asked me why I was
crying. I had not known
I was crying.

“I don’t know” I said.
“Perhaps I am happy
or perhaps I am sad”
but whatever I said
the tears would not stop.

I said that the peace,
the surroundings and the
beauty filled me with awe.
Who was I to enjoy
such beautiful things?

She allowed me to cry,
she allowed me to
sob, she allowed me to
feel a despair. She just
kept stroking my hand.

“You are beautiful
too” she said. “You
belong with beautiful
things. Why else would I come
to sit by your side?

That was my first meeting with the beautiful fairy; she has been a constant in my life ever since. She lit a torch for me that day – a torch called Hope. She promised me that it would never be extinguished. I can lock it away in a cupboard; I can deny its existence but it will always remain lit. That torch is available for you too.

If we hold it high enough it will illuminate both the road ahead and the cave inside. And the paradox is that it is more important to illuminate the inside of the cave than the road, for it is in the cave that we will discover the enemies we must overcome.

Stored in the cave too are the attributes, the tools perhaps, that we require for the battlefield. Different enemies, different battles, different tools required.

Yet there are two which are an absolute requirement. The first of these is courage – somehow the one we find easiest to deny we possess. And yet to step onto the battlefield at all requires courage, and if we hold the torch up high enough we will always find it. We will have used it in the past – it is just that we have often called it something else. Use the torch, bring the light – you will find it.

The other is hard work – perseverance, stubbornness, determination – call it what you like. I had that in abundance. It had kept me enthralled for years by that mistress, convinced that she was right when all evidence pointed to the contrary. I could use that attribute. After all the point is that stubbornness, turned round and pointed in a constructive direction, becomes determination.

A battle won will lose its significance without the hard work to consolidate that success. We must overcome the human inclination to inertia and put in the effort.

Audio version and a painting are available at – http://youtube.com/user/DavidAgnewpoet

 

First I Dreamt the Journey – Part 5 – Hope

Stored too in the cave are the moments of memory that define who I am. Moments apart from the layers of doubt and uncertainty which can surround me. Moments which are my essence and which stand apart from transitory external circumstances which create the illusion of a different truth.

I do well to store these moments, not in the deepest recesses of the cave, but in a place where they can catch the light, where the light can reflect off them and brighten the dullest days.

This light which, coming from the past, provides the beacon to guide me forward. A beacon lighting up the dream needed to draw me on, giving me direction and guidance, providing the measure which guides every day.

These moments of memory form part of the hope without which the dream would always be unavailable: they are the fleeting images of a different future. But these moments allow me to define a future, a future which, for today, may form only part of my dreams.

We all have our own memories of this sort. In my cave they include,

The morning after the night when I had retired to bed devoid of hope, fully believing that I could not go forward. And yet I woke up totally at peace with the world. I thought I had done nothing, but in fact I had surrendered.

The moment when, having thought I could get away with something, that nobody would know, I realised that I would know and I went back and corrected it.

A lady who was in this world for far too short a time but whose legacy to me is a knowledge that I cannot forget, that I’d not know had we not met. The knowledge that I was capable of loving and being loved in return.

A moment too, one specific moment of forgiveness which reached deep inside my soul, took a harbored, secret cache of guilt, exorcised it and left me free to grow.

We are all possessors of these moments. They may come in many different forms: an unexpected hug, a word of kindness, a word of gratitude. Moments when we have been touched or have touched others. As you search the cave, as you clear the debris, you will find them. Bring them out into the light, they will provide the means to take you forward.

　

　As always  –  if you prefer to listen rather than read   –   http://youtube.com/user/DavidAgnewpoet

First I Dreamt the Journey – Part 3 – Cave of Truth

Once a year, for a period of one month we would leave our house and travel to the coast. We would stay for that month in a cottage which had once belonged to a fisherman.

It was a place where the only thing which separated the cottage from the beach was a strip of concrete. A place such that shoes and socks were discarded at the start of the month, to be retrieved again at the month’s end.

A place where sand and sea and rocks and seaweed and pools and green fields were enough to fill a child’s imagination. A place too where lobsters were taken straight from the sea and put into the pan.

And in that place, off to the left as one looked out from the cottage, the cliffs reached right down into the sea. Invisible at high tide was a cave whose entrance and dark recesses were accessible when the tide was low.

Many days I stood outside that cave – looking into the darkness but unable to venture in – held back by some unidentifiable fear. Yet some deep part of me knew that sooner or later I must cross that threshold and venture inside; take a torch and risk the uneven floor, look into the dark corners, the hidden recesses, the nooks and the crannies which existed therein.

Oh, I could exist, I could live my life, I could be, without taking that risk, but I knew there would be something lacking, something missing from my life if I did not take it.

Eventually I began to explore, first of all in those areas which were reached by daylight, then in those areas accessible using the light of a match and, at last, carrying a torch from the cottage, I was able to reach the innermost parts. And although there were shapes which frightened, strange structures and creatures in rocky pools, the only monsters in the cave were those created in my own mind.

I carry that cave with me to this day. It exists within myself. A cave of truth into which I must venture from time to time in order to expose my monsters to the light.

I have found it necessary too that I escort trusted friends into the cave with me. Only then can I be sure that I have not ignored a hidden place which I need to see. And as they explore my cave of truth with me, I invariably find that I am also exploring their cave of truth with them.

　

　For those of you who prefer the spoken word   –   http://youtube.com/user/DavidAgnewpoet

First I Dreamt the Journey – Part 2 – Magic Moments

Once upon a time” the old man began, “when the world appeared a simpler place, I grew up in a house which was as far as it was possible to be from the town and yet still be regarded as being in the town.

A place where the sound of cattle and sheep and geese was the norm, where the smell of the farmyard was ever present; where the rooster crowing at dawn was part of every day and where dogs were working animals, rather more than pets.

It was a time when people still kept ferrets and hunted for rabbits, when children played out rather than in, when television was yet to be invented and when the greatest friend for every child was their own imagination.

And yet it was a world too where danger existed. Traveling downhill on a home made go-cart, thrilled by the speed and then losing control, heading straight for a barbed wire fence. Then, and who knows how, an intervention which caused the bottom strand of wire to catch my knee, flick upwards, and cling for an instant to the strand above whilst my head passed underneath. The difference between life and death.

Those moments exist in all our lives, moments which in their passing seem to leave everything as it was before. But the reality is that in that split second everything changes – one potential future denied, another occurring.

So often we do not notice their occurrence; we let them pass by without paying attention. But it is those moments which define our life’s passage.

We would do well to reflect, to consider those moments, to consider their impact on our lives, to capture their essence, to become aware of the split seconds in time which changed our lives for ever”

　
For those who prefer the spoken word   –   http://youtube.com/user/DavidAgnewpoet