Keeping Faith

"Faith is the art of holding on to things your reason has once accepted in spite of your changing moods"

~C.S Lewis

My faith wavers. It is up and down like a rollercoaster depending on my mood. Its not my belief in God, for that somehow manages to stay a constant in my life despite neglecting mass and prayer from time to time. Instead it is my faith in myself, in others, in human nature, in love and for the future. I know that somehow this is all linked to my faith in God & his path for me so does that mean I question him too? I am not in complete control of my life, I know. I'm dependent upon others to put their faith in me in my work, to trust & to love me in return and to keep me safe along the way.

Right now, I feel like I have no centre, is faith my centre? That something for me to hold onto into the future as I continue on the unknown path? Sometimes there are doubts. Doubts that creep sneakily into the dark crevasses of the mind and want to wiggle their way forward. Doubts that make you wonder if faith is right. But faith pushes those back. Faith holds its ground. Its difficult, sometimes the way becomes cloudy and you lose sight of what you are fighting for. Sometimes you need someone to give you that nudge when you step outside of the path. Sometimes its that someone who has to keep the faith. Yes, in life and in love there are bound to be doubts. It is human to question without knowing. But lets face it, what really has a definite answer? What can we really be sure of? I try to keep that faith, but in doing so I'm trying to retain control instead of letting go to let faith take its path, let faith strengthen as it continues on the path we make. I hope that faith will get a chance to prove its worth.

Crash

I was sitting outside Camden Food Co at Liverpool Street station flicking through the paper waiting for my platform to be announced.

One loud thud.

A crash that draws attention.

I glance up.

A man is lying curled up on the floor.

People are slowly crowding around.

Police are called to attention.

It unfolds in front of me just less than 10 metres from where I was sitting.

More police flock to the scene.

The man is not moving.

I watch him, willing him to move as police come to warn everybody off.

Passers by walk slowly by, curious by the crowd starting to form around him.

I notice a woman hysterical near man. She knows him I think.

No one is coming to help? Why isn't there anyone yet??

A police officer finally rushes to the scene with a large orange bag of supplies.

Curtains are put up around the man. The crowd is told to back off but people still linger.

The woman is still hysterical, crying with her knees to the ground.

As I move closer, I see the blood.

I see the blood pool around his head.

The man is still not moving.

And quickly it is covered up by the curtains pulled briskly around him.

I step back, no choice but to stay and wait for my platform to be announced.

I watch the hysterical woman lead the police up the stairs to the walkway above. She's crying and a man she knows wraps his arm around her to comfort her. She doesn't know the man lying on the floor. She saw him fall.

The man was alone.

20 minutes I wait until my platform is announced. Still no paramedics come to rush him off to the hospital. No one moves him away from behind the curtains. Police tape is out up around the area.

Its one of those images that will stay in you head.

Oh god. I hope he's not dead.
Please please pray that he's not dead.

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Curiousity

When I travel, my senses are heightened. Placed in a foreign land, I become more aware of my surroundings eager to drink in the culture, people, sights and feel of the place in the short lived time that I am there. Travelling piques my curiosity and as a wise man once told me, I am best when I am curious. There is this renewed sense of clarity looking over my life at home. I am inspired when I travel- inspired to write, to paint, to be and to do with so many thoughts buzzing around in my head that I almost can't wait to get back to get started.

Then its all too easy to get lost in everyday life. And suddenly these thoughts are lost, pushed aside or remain scribbled on a post it note or purposefully bought journal, never coming to life.

So how do I translate this into everyday life? How do I retain that curiosity; the eagerness to learn and to search for more without getting sucked into routine. Many a time have I reached the office unknowingly letting my feet carry me and habitually dodging and weaving in and out of the crowds of people completely oblivious to my surroundings. And I'm sure I'm not alone. This is in stark contrast to when I'm off on my travels. Shouldn't I be eager to know, learn and drink in my own surroundings too? Sure there isn't enough time to take 1000s of photos, to sit in a cafe and peoplewatch for hours & to write everything down for fear that my appalling memory will forget. There are responsibilities, work, study, errands to run... and I can feel myself caught up in all of this.

We can't always be travelling; its an expensive life and as we flit about from place to place, soon the novelty will wear off and perhaps there will be a need for a greater constant in our lives. I am eager and perhaps inpatient to move abroad, to live somewhere else other than what I have known for the past 22 years of my life. This is no unique dream. Many have done it with ease. But while I am living here, do I really know it?

I need to find a way to keep that sense of curiosity that drives me to be and to do in my daily life.

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How well can you really know someone?

How close do you have to be to someone to know that they've got your back?

When do you realise you have to go it alone?

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There are times in life where the path ahead is quite clear but times where it is covered and you have to see through the mist.

Dear Blog

Dear Blog,

I am sorry I have neglected you. I promise I'll let you out when I get my life back.

Inner Child

She literally bounces as we enter the room. It reminds me of Tigger and that damn catchy song. She's giggling away, showing her toothy grin running in and out of the furniture only to pop her head around a table leg or a door to shout 'boo!' I ask her what she's laughing at- she looks at me, doesn't reply and just continues giggling away as if in her own world.

It takes a short while before she's snatching all the photos around the room to show me again, impressively remembering all their names but not recognising me, without my glasses, in one of the photos. This, she insists cannot be me. I play the same game with her in one of HER photos. She giggles some more and brings out proof of the huge pink glasses she is wearing in the picture. Soon, she's taking out all her toys to show me, one by one, giggling away as I start to play along with her.

Being around kids is refreshing, not least because there's no need to form an intellectual conversation or even coherent sentences, but because they, this girl is so full of energy. I find it rubbing off on me until I'm blushing pink, part from giggling along with her and the other from holding up her baby brother who, mesmerized by the TV and the current season of Dancing on Ice, is actually dancing with his feet bouncing on my lap. I suddenly have a new found appreciation for mothers.

I wonder how I came to this point, as an adult. Kids know exactly what they want, if they haven't got it then they'll scream the house down. At some point then, I knew exactly what I wanted, my mum never misses an opportunity to tell me what a nightmare baby I was, crying persistently. Now my wants are riddled with apprehension, self-doubt and inhibition. So much sometimes that it becomes disguised underneath it all. Was it experience and knowledge of the world and how it works that has set my heart back a notch? Maybe I'm having some kind of mid-mid-life crisis but I think its too early to be becoming all bitter and twisted.

Sometimes I wish I could have just a slice of that kid-like charm. To see the world through fresh eyes, without that skepticism or tainted view that sometimes holds us back. And that energy- its incredible, I can feel my blood pumping through my veins, something that working in an office compiling audit papers doesn't give.

But I'm here, barely beginning my adult life wondering what I can do to get that spark back.

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Wabi-sabi

From wikipedia:

Comprehensive Japanese world view or aesthetic centered on the acceptance of transienorce. The aesthetic is sometimes described as one of beauty that is "imperfect, impermanent and incomplete"

The art of imperfection.

Sometimes its not about the grand gestures, the airbrushed photos or effort to make everything 'perfect'. In our mass-produced, globalised, constantly changing and fast-moving culture where iphones are disposed of yearly for a newer, better models which have none of the shortcomings of its predecessors, we crave something else. At least I do.

I know that if I kept up with this race of technology, I'll never be satisfied. There will always be something faster, more powerful and more efficient. If it weren't for this our economy could not be growing the rate it is (on a global scale- not exactly UK at the minute), businesses couldn't be more efficient or be able to serve our growing population and consumer needs. Those days of economics 101 come into play where we're taught to shift the production possibility frontier outwards and try and solve the basic economic problem; limited resources, unlimited wants.

But in our own lives, we have to reach that level of satisfaction. Level with ourselves to appreciate what we have, of course this doesn't mean giving up our dreams to become an astronaut, international rugby player or sucessfully carry out our plan of world domination. Just to be content with being. I don't know if this contrasts what I've said before; can we strive for more-be better people and have that incentive to invent and develop better products whilst being at ease with who we are, whilst appreciating our imperfections and what we have?

Perhaps its just all about finding that balance.

Its nature for me. Pure uncensored, uncontrollable, authentic beauty of nature. It may have its flaws- leaves fall off and decay as Autumn turns to Winter. Weathering can leave cracks in the rocks and trees are subject to the mark of time. But there's an aching magnificence about it. Its the muted beauty of the sun peeking out through the trees, a lake so still any ripples will be magnified and fresh morning dew settling on newly sprung daffodils. It somehow instills a quietness of mind, an inspiration of stillness and of contentment. The need to just be rather than do.

And so I had that priveledge this morning. An early rise leading to a morning walk outside on the grounds. This place is the heart of Birmingham, just a few minutes away from the chocolate factory and literally right next to the main Bristol Road. Yet, it manages to be a closed retreat- a getaway from the hustle and bustle of the mad London rush and the piercing Brummie accent. There was no-one around, save for a few geese who had not yet been chased away. Just the morning sun, fresh air and the breakthrough signs of springtime.


Edit: Why this post came out in strange font I have no idea. I struggled for 5 minutes trying to get it to change back to normal but the realised it was against the whole nature of the post.

The path of destruction

It starts life as just a seed. All it takes is that one passing comment, one flicker of uncertainty to plant it in the dark recesses of the mind.

From time to time, you forget about it. Forget it exists. Then its as if its a spark waiting to happen, like a fire needing the three crucial elements to burn. Without one, it would flicker out. With all three, it has the power to destroy.

And once it starts up, its difficult to put out. It continues along its war path, no particular direction or form, just continues to gather speed and pick up anything-good or bad- that should fall in its way. So then you forget what caused it in the first place, what ignited that one spark that turned it into a fully fledged monster.

Instead you can only look back at the path of destruction it has made. Look to the path ahead and find a way to control it. To put it out and salvage what there is left.

Who listens to our soul in its search to be heard?

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If life were a musical...

I've just come out from STOMP, the rhythm and beats still ringing fresh in my ears.

I board the night tube at Liverpool street. I tap my fingers against the plastic bag I'm holding in my lap, as we've learnt tonight everything (except banana peel) has a sound that can be exploited.

A man gets on with heavy workers boots covered in drippings of paint. He's carrying a paint can. His boots would make the perfect stomping material to accompany the rhythm in my head. His paint can could just as easily be turned into a musical instrument to tap along to.

Right on cue, two men board the tube at the next stop each carrying fosters cans. The lighter rat-a-tat-tat of the aluminium cans would go in perfect harmony to my heavy workers boot stomp, plastic bag rustle and paint can tap.

In reality of course, I sit there tapping my fingers on my bag, an imaginary rhythm playing in my head whilst the strangers in question are completely oblivious to their cue to join in.

How awesome life would be if it were a musical.

People sketching

New blog!

http://peoplesketching.tumblr.com/

Nope, everyone is too busy ranting about how the trains are all cancelled and delayed once again.

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Back to early mornings

There's a gorgeous sunrise today. Beautifully vivid colours which somehow blend themselves together subtlely. I wonder if anyone has noticed it but me.

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How Economics saved Christmas

http://blogs.forbes.com/artcarden/2010/12/09/how-economics-saved-christmas/

The salesman

Right beside me sits a largish bloke, perhaps no older than 35. He has the gift of the gab. He chats animatedly to his mate beside him, a conversation that the whole carriage can be expected to hear. I sit beside him, carelessly flicking through my Evening Standard, pretending not to eavesdrop. He talks of his newfound love for Jeremy Kyle after watching yesterday's hot topic of the day, 'I know you cheated on me because I got an STD', nothing less is expected on a train to Southend Victoria, in the land of Essex. You cannot help but hear every word they are saying. The man is a comedian at heart, a salesman by occupation. Its no wonder he has learnt to charm the crowds. 5 minutes later and this man is still endorsing Jeremy Kyle as the cure to every man's bad day. He speaks of one having had a shitty day at work coming home to a round of slagging matches on TV after the subject's boyfriend/friend/brother cheated/lied/had a baby with other guys/best mate/mother/mistress (delete as necessary), stories almost prevalent in every episode of Jeremy Kyle. Stories that somehow puts life in perspective after you realise that yours isn't so bad after all.

A man opposite him, dressed in a sharp business suit suppresses a smile behind his Evening Standard. He catches my eye and we both smile. The salesman is still ranting away about Jeremy Kyle. The smile turns to a chuckle and soon enough this salesman has drawn us in. A lady opposite is intently reading a book titled 'Life after death', supposedly a book written by a friend of hers. Its not long before the salesman spots her and after confessing she's been reading the same line over and over, she too is drawn in. Soon, passengers seats across get wind of today's hot topic conversation and soon enough the whole carriage seems to be in on this conversation. The mood lifts and what was once a bunch of strangers dressed up in their work attire~ uptight suits and tight ties has turned into a place of lively banter. Weary, robotic travellers are suddenly brought to life. All due to the power of the salesman.

Power of the net

uk.news.yahoo.com/5/20101208/tuk-wiki-war-hacktivists-take-down-visa-45dbed5.html

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The first snowfall

It's snowing! I can't help but feel all excited and I'm sure I have a silly childish grin on my face at the first snowfall of the season. I waited half an hour in the cold, my feet are numb and the bus ended up getting stuck in the snow for a while. I would normally be in London by now but have only just boarded the train. I'm rather impressed that the trains still run pretty much on time though. I'm travelling right through the snowy untouched white fields where the snow has left its mark with a frosting just enough to coat the bare branches of the trees. It's so beautiful. But all I can hear around me are workers calling their bosses telling them they'll be late or people rather absorbed in their usual morning busying.

It's snowing! And I feel like I'm the only one who is excited.

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Back to the bubble

I went up to visit Warwick this weekend. In the midst of the lead up to exams (2 weeks now!), it was a much needed break from the city. I needed to go back to Warwick as the place where I learnt to find my own way, fend for myself and where I had made a home for myself for three years. I wanted to see how it had changed, how I'd changed since entering the working world.

And so there was no place better than my favourite haunt by Jack Martin lake. I'm pretty sure its not called Jack Martin lake but that's what it will always be known as to me. Its a place I used to visit often just to let my thoughts simmer, take in the fresh air or even attempt to study (though somehow everything around was always far too distracting). Its not the greatest of natural wonders; a murky lake, the contents of which are somewhat debatable, a few bare trees in the winter and only a badelynge of ducks sauntering around hoping to poach food from the few visitors that pass. But netherless being around nature allows me to breathe and inspires the belief of something greater.

On that cold winter weekend- early Sunday morning, there was hardly a soul wandering the land which gave me the perfect opportunity to claim the lake as my own and snap away with my new camera. It was more of a trial and error effort in an attempt to stay away from the cheat's auto mode and learn for myself. As such, I adjusted far from enough settings and so a lot of the photos from my shooting frenzy were out of focus and somewhat blurry. The playback screen had deceived me into thinking they were not so blurry! But as this is my first attempt at shooting from my new toy, it can only get better. I have to admit I enjoyed a good hour in the cold, snapping away in all manner of positions until my fingers were so frozen they might have dropped off. Anyways, just a few of my newbie shots from the weekend:

"People sketching"

I glance around the crowded carriage in an attempt to pick my first victim. There's the lady with the large Louis Vuitton bag in front of me, make up and nails immaculate plugged into her iPhone whilst simultaneously tapping away at it. There's the lady right next to her- tight pencil skirt reading the metro with her hands dressed in pink leather gloves. For now, I can only define them by their objects, the key pieces they carry or wear that sets them apart from this suited up crowd.

My eyes fall upon man just across from me. His business attire would not warrant a second glance, indeed he blends in with everyone else. Black tailored suit, white shirt, pink tie and polished leather shoes. He reads the Times, again standard for this working class, flicking between the pages and pausing every so often to read an article of interest. He hasn't any defining features, one could quickly pass him by unknowingly in a crowd but something brings him to my attention nevertheless. He has the air of being good looking in his younger days but the signs of the years passing are evident in the faint lines on his forehead. He's so absorbed in his paper, in his own world that he doesn't even glance up to have a nose around every so often. He doesn't even notice the train pull into the final station and when he does look up his forehead wrinkles up and the lines deepen. As the mass of people rush off the train, he takes the time to dress himself, to slowly put on his coat and reach for his bag on the overhead shelf. He is the last in the carriage, still on the train as I finally get off, as if this morning ritual, this five minute ritual helps to prepare him for the day ahead.

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