Deep & Thoughtful. Are we drowning?

Broken hearts and torn up pages of all those books we could have written if only we were committed and selfless and accepting of change. So often we cower in the shadows of new horizons because of that inner sinking feeling that is thrown our way. It eats at us and it plagues us.  Are we drowning? 

To think of myself aged 17, scribbling notes down furiously on the pages of my Psychology text book believing one day that I'd have the courage to show someone even a sentence of the petty concerns that addressed my head. I remember my innocence, when I used to believe that if I could write well enough then maybe one day a girl would be that amazed by my ability to write about "broken hearts and paranoid minds" that she would see enough of my own heart to like it, how silly to think that something as simple as poetry and well thought out words could ever scream loud enough to affect anything. I've learnt that words unless mixed with action are pointless and unproven. Martin Luther King could have said whatever he wanted but it was the fact that he acted on that inspirational speech that change started to happen. I used to listen to that speech on repeat thinking that I'd gain wisdom in how to address a crowd. 

But to think of those rhymes poetically powerful enough to stop the tick of time that was present in my heart but was absent in my mind when I flicked through my journal attempting to pen some meaningful and soul searching lines. Penned lines about love and hope and I guess mistakes and regrets also got a share in the glory. For we all know that they make us sharp and make us strong or so the triumphant shout anyway having lived their dark days in their history as they stand victorious in their testimony. 

Oh to join them would be a joyful but I'd be cautious to approach anyone who simply looks happy, or so my head tells me anyway. Not because I'm cautious of outward emotion, but I know how it can mask troubled eyes, like sunglasses shelter all true exposure. I do remember however that happiness itself is only happiness if you have ever felt sorrow. I mean how could you describe yourself as happy unless you knew what it was like to be sad. I've felt sad. Grief as well. And I've tasted happiness too. But not where I thought I'd find it. It wasn't a bank note, or a girl or a gift that ever made me truly happy. I don't doubt these things for sure can play a big part, but it wasn't until I met my King that I was complete. I wasted so much time looking to be completed and spent hours writing about things that I would now rip up and bin, if I wasn't so sentimental and silly. 

I realised when I was 18 that these testimonies declaring joy must have come from a season of loneliness and hurt and that I should learn to take note from such accounts because they could hold the power of change in my own shallow life. How much time I had laboured and bore jealousy upon my back for no other reason than I wanted that joy. I wanted that blessing. But not one person ever told me how. Like I just didn't get that it was something I had to outwork. They made it sound like if I opened up my hands I would have a wife, a big bank balance and a new TV in my palm. That just left me heavy hearted and bitter. Not thankful and grateful for the little but 'just enough' that I had. 

I wanted To feel that change and that hope that i had hidden away in a box padlocked with hate and self satisfaction instead of using the key that he gave me all those years ago when I stood at 12 years old in that big blue tent at summer camp. That key was faith. I wanted to claw for something deeper than emotional overload or something heavier than a material gift. It was that faith that I acted on from my initial belief. A trust and a bond that pleaded with me to step out of that crowd that night with my shining white Adidas Stan smith trainers on, one foot after the other deciding I would never turn back. But life got so clouded between 12 and 19. 

What happened to me? Faithless at 15. With God in a box and a sinking feeling in my pit. Growing older taught me nothing much other than that the likelihood of ever falling in love always seemed doubtful but satisfying. It seemed fairytale's of forever afters would more likely haunt me than complete me. Dreams of escaping to far of places were almost realities but even running from my planned escape wasn't out of my ability. 

It's as if I was cut adrift upon some ocean with plagued thoughts and achievable goals. Willing in my heart to grow and change and cling to my faith in a creator but my unstable feet and the crossed wires of exactly how to live this out made it virtually impossible to surrender my will to his will. Or so I thought that late July evening in 2009 when this topic reared its head in my mind. I could never shake it off. I realised that this sea I was sailing kept me at ease, but it also crushed my dreams. It pulled me down with its tide and filled my lungs with such poisoned regret that no word of love or hope could ever get in. But it looked so beautiful, especially when the sun shone down and reflected its presence upon it. Appealing for sure. Satisfying, not for long. I thought so many times why did I ever continue to float? Why did I climb aboard that rough old boat and sail with my head held high. Then it came to me, and I took hold of it with both hands before it escaped the fragile mind of a young and restless man. 

It was faith. 

It was faith that made me walk upon that deck and lift that anchor up. It was faith that told me that I wouldn't sink. It was faith that told me that those trials and mistakes wouldn't be the death of me. It was faith that told me to raise my head and believe again. Though my flesh and my heart did fail, faith told me to go again, to cling on and hold on to that promise. It wasn't a faith in myself, or a faith in a friend or leader, or in a notion or even a symbol of two pieces of wood nailed together. No, it was faith in the saviour that was nailed to those pieces of wood. It was his blood that literally covered his body as they drove nails into his limbs as he was murdered for me upon that bloody tree. It's that blood that steers my ship, that speaks a better word over my existence. Oh how we shy from talking about that Crimson love, that sacrifice made for us because it sickens us and turns our stomachs but in honest and simple truth in set us free. It was marked upon us. We are his. Alive and changed. 

And I realised that though my faith at times was so simple and embarrassingly small, it was always there. From 12 years old when I let him in. I wavered. I ran. But I could not shake him off. Thank God I couldn't. 

No relationship I have ever tasted compares to what I found in Jesus Christ. And no relationship ever will.  My cup has been filled. That tangible heart trembling magnificence that breathes life into my bones and takes me from glory to glory. That pulls me from strength to strength. That stands me on a rock. That anchors my soul. It's pure. It's true. I'm so thankful man. Like gratitude spills from my heart to this pen. It's funny how I write about him now, for so long I wrote about nothing worth writing about.  He consumes me now, he has my heart. Like to the point where I can't stop thinking about him. He isn't just my saviour. He is my Lord. Just a humble servant am I. 

Thick skin & a soft heart.

Yesterday between setting up for our weekly Friday night youth event 'Elevate' and the event itself actually happening I found myself in a familiar place. My car. 

I spend a lot of time on the road. The Tarmac veins of the North get a lot of my time, and I've learnt to make the most of that time. 

Often I will just drive and preach. I will preach at myself, preach at the fields, at the unsuspecting people in the passing cars, at the sun, at the rabbits who run under my car, flirting with death. I will preach to whoever and whatever. I've learnt that God always puts new ideas, dreams and thoughts in my mind and I feel that unless I speak them out they may never be given the time they deserve. I shout, I preach to no one with the same high intensity, the same passion and same conviction as I would if I was preaching to a room full of people, not because I'm mad, but because I believe God always deserves my best. Sometimes I will pull over and record points into my phone because my memory fails me. You know, I hear... I forget. 

Other times I will sit and say nothing. I will go for journey after journey and say nothing. I won't speak. I won't have the radio on, or my iPod or anything. I sit, and I listen. For someone who talks a lot i find it strangely like home to be quiet. It's in these moments that God pours these ideas into my heart and it's from there that I will open my mouth and speak. 

And yesterday I had one of these moments were I said nothing. I was meant to be going through the notes of my preach for that evening but found myself quietly sat when this thought came into my head. "Thick skin and a soft heart."  I'm convinced I've never heard this saying before, but it's truth for my life struck me really hard. 

I took it to our youth meeting and shared it first with the leaders and then with some of the youth proclaiming I would write a blog about this notion. Which I guess is where we find me now. Your word is your bond right, you can't say you will do something then not, so I got up early on a Saturday morning and started writing. 

I believe we live in a world that wants us to have soft skin and a hard heart. A weak exterior and a tough interior. A shell that is weak and hurting, beaten and bruised and a heart that is closed off, selfish, untrusting, cautious, full of every hurt we have ever been dealt. We live in a world where our heart is too often manipulated by others, wrecked by emotion and riddled with jealously and un forgiveness. We capture moments of mess, grief and hurt like photographs and stick them to the walls of our heart, creating a shell of anger and doubt. We attempt to pick up the fragments of our broken hearts and stick them together in a padded box labelling them with a  'caution' 'fragile' 'easily broken' sticker and then scribble "Do not open" on the outside. We SHOUT so much negativity and low self worth over our lives that it becomes self harm of the highest order. We self abuse and believe lies and dress ourselves in sadness. 

I believe that as a Christian we are called to have thick skin but a soft heart. The thick skin is necessary and in fact desperately vital. People will hurt us, let us down, disappoint us, offend us, misunderstand us, misinterpret us, desert us, abuse us and manipulate us. That is sadly the way of our fallen culture that comes from living in a sin stained and fallen world. 

People that we thought would stand with us, will leave. People who always built us up will tear us down. Comments, rumours, presumptions will fly at us and we need to develop think skin in order to let these things bounce off us. 

The bible talks about guarding your heart in Proverbs 4:23. 

"Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it."

If we aren't careful, and don't create a thick shell to ultimately protect our heart then all these hurts and trials will pierce our skin and go straight into our hearts and will begin to eat away at everything we do. Instead of bouncing off us they will consume us. They will make us question, they will fill our heads with insecurities and comparison and completely distracted us from living the life that God has planned for us. We will spend all our time looking at other people and what they have and live blinded from all the unique gifting and potential God has given us. 

In Matthew 10:14 Jesus tells his disciples:

"If anyone will not welcome you or listen to your words, leave that home or town and shake the dust off your feet." 

At this time Jesus is laying out exactly the cost of being a disciple and the persecution and trial that they will face for his sake. I love the image of shaking the dust from their sandals and moving on. In other words, don't let it go to your heart. Have nothing else to do with them but don't you dare let it get in the way of what you have been called to do. Don't let it rob you of the adventure and the life changing, soul winning mission you have embarked on. 

This is why we need to develop a thick skin so as we can preserve our soft heart. A heart that is open to God, open to hearing his word and obeying it. A heart that isn't fearful or bitter. A heart that will speak faith into situations and in to others. A heart that has love at its core. A heart that has forgiveness, grace and mercy flowing from it. A heart of compassion, not of comparison. A heart of hope. A heart of joy. A heart of reason and understanding that isn't reaction heavy. 

 If we are unwilling to get over embarrassment, get over offence, get over hurt, rumours, un forgiveness and bitterness we are at great danger of making our hearts hard, and therefore in great danger of tripping up and walking away from all that God has given us. 

Ephesians 4: 18-24 sums up better than I ever could this whole thing. The chain reaction from a hard heart to walking away from God. But it also gives a strong reminder that this is not the way of life God has for us. 

"Be made a new in the attitudes of your mind." 

 "18They are darkened in their understanding and separated from the life of God because of the ignorance that is in them due to the hardening of their hearts. 19Having lost all sensitivity, they have given themselves over to sensuality so as to indulge in every kind of impurity, and they are full of greed.

20That, however, is not the way of life you learned 21when you heard about Christ and were taught in him in accordance with the truth that is in Jesus. 22You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; 23to be made new in the attitude of your minds; 24and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness."

 Be on your guard today. Refuse to let any distraction reach your heart. Remind yourself of who you are in Christ, choose to position yourself there and cloth yourself in this. 

Be safe. 

Thick skin soft heart, ye. 

It's really not as complicated as we make out. 

What more can I say.

The Story//

I guess we all have a story to tell. All brought up from different backgrounds with different parents, or some, no parents at all. 

We all have secrets and we all have dreams. We all desire something. Our abandoned hearts are all searching for love, security and acceptance. I found mine. At the cross of my murdered saviour. It's hard to explain in words what I felt, I guess it was the realisation that love is more than just a feeling, it screams louder than any sound, but anyway I will attempt to show you, and tell you of the love I found. 

Darkness//

I realise that darkness is so profound. It's hard to feel found when there is just no light around. Just black. Like treacle, uncomfortable and sticky but yet we choose it. No way out, like a man trapped on the third floor of a building that's on fire. What choice does he have but to jump? Alarms can only warn you of what toil awaits. Pain replaced by numbness and numbness quickly fades into nothing. Nothing at all.

Believe me this isn't what I thought life would be, when I was 8 years old and playing football in my garden dreaming of taking on the world. I felt invincible. How childish. I felt so full of life. How challenging. 

What happens to us? This reality seems quite uncomfortable to give time to right now. Scars on skin tell stories of trial and pain and yet nothing even in the darkest of moments ever seems to satisfy or shout loud enough to be heard. No release could possibly come quick enough or so it would seem. 

How many times did I think my cry out for help fell on deaf ears. Those walls of insecurity I built around a house which was home only to misery and grief. Like two ugly sisters they laboured and patrolled the inners of my mind and immersed my heart with such overwhelming sadness. 

So much hurt thrown, so much hurt given that not even the optimists ever predicted that justice would be received. Yet what is justice? 

Un forgiveness strangles politely but strongly round the neck of any soul that will allow its grasp. I have let it take its hold on me one too many times. Bitterness builds up like a taunted animal ready to avenge those who pay to see it perform. The circus seems quite an apt explanation for the talent of my emotions. Of course no one cares enough to applaud which is probably a good thing really, after reflection takes its hold. 

Caught up in cycles of addiction and self affliction and confrontation and family struggles that are so deep I didn't think anyone would ever explore that ocean. So many shipwrecks and lost souls were taken and yet it appeared none were ever given back. It's easy to be absorbed by it all, to let it wash over you like a bath of poison, itching at your core and immersing your most private of thoughts. You are marked with lies such as 'this is your lot in life'. 'You will never get better'. 'You will never change'. 'This is as good as it will get' 'give up now' 'failure' 'ugly' 'hated' 'thief' 'rejected' 'useless' 'mistake' 'second choice' 'terminal' 'as good as dead' 'problem child'. 

No More//

It was then I cried out 'NO MORE'. 

No more would I live like a bird with clipped wings. No longer would i live in a cage of self pity and circumstantial ill fated choices. No longer would I live in the shadows, sailing at half mast, swinging way below par. I was born to FLY.  

Sat all on my own in that moment. My heart was literally about to explode and shatter into a thousand pieces. Like that glass vase I accidentally knocked over in that cheap shopping centre place that closed down soon after. I often wondered if I played my part? Probably. 

The battle in my head was exceptional. It was crazy. I was a mess. It was as if I looked up and saw the sun, shining through the clouds. You know, when you look out and swear it was raining before when You last looked out. 

"What's happening to me?" I panicked. I found myself overcome with such joy when I realised that the sun had always been shining, I just had never seen the clouds part. It's crazy how a moment can break the hold of a life time. That's all Jesus needs though. A moment. How often we struggle to find one though. Lists and excuses run down the clock. 

In the midst of my trial. Out of the desperation that consumed me I felt alive. Like a joy had run into my body and covered every inch. I felt safe, I felt satisfied. Like every moment I had searched had pointed to this. Him. Jesus. As if he himself was holding on to me. As if the scales had been removed from my eyes. As if darkness had been lifted to show his beauty. I saw myself differently in that moment, something I would learn would take a while to really grasp. Just like my view of others. 

My heart so full of peace I can't ever explain fully or comprehend what Jesus did to me in that moment. It's crazy. I heard someone say once there is a difference between living and being alive. I realise that now. 

The Cross//

I looked to the cross. Its relevance in my life filled my heart with thankfulness. 

The realisation that the abuse suffered was rightly my punishment shot gratitude into my inner core. 

Tears ran down my face when I thought of his beating, the suffering, the blood. The lashings, the spitting, the hidings, the mocking, the torture and the pain. To think he did that all for me, for you. His face unrecognisable, his body indescribable. 

This moment, this misery, this murder has changed my life forever. What scandal, that he should die so I may live. 

At the Cross of Christ I realise that death has no hold on me. That the curtain was torn, that the gap was bridged. He defeated the enemy. 

I understand that it was God's final plan. No sin and shame and scorn would ever hold the Fathers hand. 

At the Cross of Christ I see that love shouts louder than my pain. And that forgiveness hung upon a tree, the Son of God, a servant was given up for me. It was only there the Saviour was forsaken but death met its final vengeance and the gates of hell were shaken. 

At the Cross of Christ my chains were taken by my Saviour. That I might live a life of freedom that shouts louder for my Maker. My selfishness, my sin, my addiction and my grief. Were nailed to that cross as He hung between two thieves. 

At the Cross of Christ what gratitude does feel my heart and sorrow i do cry. As He hung his head and it was done beneath that blackened sky. 

Oh how death must have thought thought that it had won. That God had failed as Jesus died and that sin had overcome. 

The Tomb//

But death itself could not hold Him down. As he rose 3 days later. The power of darkness broken by Jesus Who was greater. 

The empty tomb, the scenes I guess I can't describe. But such praise, such joy, such thankfulness when they found He was alive. 

"O, death where is your glory. O death where is your sting?"

Such power in His name. Behold He lives and still changes lives the resurrection King. 

His majesty and grace will forever reign, what truth has touched my heart, I will never be the same. 

What Parker pen, notepad and endless timescale could ever quantity such power. He is my strength, my fortress, and rock, my hope and my strong tower. 

His mercy is as boundless as the sky above, spread open like His arms which receive us with His love. 

What power is held in His name, the one above all things, the cry of my heart is all for Him and will forever sing. 

All of heaven adores Him.

Behold our risen King. 

Forever He will be glorified. Forever He will satisfy. 

He is so mighty and He saves. Deserving of all glory and of the highest praise. 

You have to respond to the cry of the cross. It screams love and security, it paid the cost. It rings out bells aloud that you are forgiven. You are free. Set apart. Righteous given. The chains that held you He took as his scorn, upon that tree, where He was made to wear a crown of thorns. 

You have to respond to the empty tomb. That death itself was beaten by His wounds. He overcame the enemy, He rules and reigns so endlessly. No coffin for His body, no grave stone with a date. He's risen from the dead, His splendour is magnificent. His name is o so great. 

He rose again so that He may live within our hearts. That they would tell of His love and freedom through each and every part. That we may raise the level of living and for justice take a stand, to pursue His mighty presence and live out His perfect plan. 

He found us, like a Father, orphans on our own. Like a farmer who has planted seed, in us it has been sown.

Like a groom looking for a bride amongst the filth of humanity, he lifted us out, hand picked us all for all the world to see.

There is nothing else to get. No price or human gain. It starts and ends with Jesus who took upon our pain. 

Such magnificence and beauty, wisdom and such wonder. All creation bows to Him, the sky and all its thunder. 

We need nor want for anything now that we've been awaken. Such thankfulness and praise to Him to which all our sin was taken.

The End//

I guess we all have a story to tell. All brought up from different backgrounds with different parents, or some, no parents at all. I've realised our past may shout loud, and our pain may hold us down, but believe me I know what it's like to be set free. I no longer want my ship to sail these rough old seas without knowing my captain. I no longer want to play life as a lottery, and hope  for better luck next time. I no longer want to strive myself to find what only he can give. 

On my worst day I will praise him. On my best day I will praise him.

This is my story. Such challenge and change. I know in my heart I can never ever be the same. My heart is ablaze, it's only him I pursue. 

But anyway, I will leave you with this statement...

"He died. To know you."

A day that changed the world Forever.

Good Friday. What a day. 

What a moment, what a scandal, what a statement. 

Perfection was given up in the place of sin, shame and guilt. Freedom rose up from the ashes of despair. Heaven's crown was surrendered. Jesus, the son of God came down from heaven and gave up his own life for this simple and mind blowing reason. 

So that we may live. 

It was our hurt, it was our pain, it was our sin and it was our mess that put him on that cross. He was faultless, he was blameless he was perfect. How shocking, how undeserving, how amazing to think that he gave himself up, so that we might be saved. So that we might be found, so that we might be set free. 

They mocked him. They beat him. They spat at him. They tortured him. They whipped him. They murdered him. He gave no argument, no reaction, no fight. No anger, no bitterness. No spite. 

They nailed him, the son of God, the lamb of God on a cross between two thieves. He wore a crown of thorns. How death must have that that it had won. That God had failed as Jesus died, that death had overcome. 

In that moment, it must have looked like all hope was lost. Jesus, the saviour of the world had been murdered. His message of love and change and forgiveness had been crushed as he breathed his final breath.

But death itself could not hold Him down. As he rose 3 days later. The power of darkness broken by Jesus Who was greater. Thank God for Easter Sunday. 

The empty tomb, the scenes I guess I can't describe. But such praise, such joy, such thankfulness when they found He was alive. 

"O, death where is your glory. O death where is your sting?"

Such power in His name. Behold He lives and still changes lives the resurrection King. 

The stone of his tomb was rolled away. He wasn't in there. The impossible was made possible. The ultimate victory was won. To think that the power of death itself could not hold him down. There is no tomb with his body. No gravestone with a date. 

The Easter story screams forgiveness. It shouts so loud love and acceptance. It has hope at its core. Our past no longer defines us. Sin no longer holds us. Hurt no longer cripples us. He took it all upon him as he died. It no longer has any power though, because he is alive. 

It holds such power, such significance. Such joy. SUCH LOVE. 

It was a day that changed the world FOREVER. 

The sailor

I met a lad down Kirkby Club who swears he's been to sea.

A drowned out washed up navy seal from Blackpool pleasure beach.

Don't get me wrong he's very polite and thoughtful in his boast.

A shovel, some sand and a donkey in hand for his trip from coast to coast.

 

He continues this dreadful tale of how he nearly died. Some misfortune with a sand castle, and then his boat capsized.

"I’ve missed both goals now" my day ruined, my patience on the brink. My head a rush of adjectives for a man who speaks before he thinks.

 

Suddenly though I'm attentive, he's got me fixed this time,

"you play guitar young man?" he says, "Can you pen some lines?"

"Write me a song about a sailor.

Preferably one that comes home.

One who guides the ship to safety.

And one who doesn't die alone."

 

Suddenly his words are chocolate, some real classic treats. Stories of the good old days, like cheating on receipts. There's more to life for any sailor who sails old England's trails. A destiny, some traffic jams and who knows what might prevail.

 

His presence stood the test with me, we stayed in their til way gone 3. Past petty crime, and diamond hauls. Failed romances and epic brawls. 

I'd call on the captain, and sail on down, the most interesting man in this dead old town. 

 

Poem of chance

Falling into the arms of an unsuspecting dream.

No polyphonic ringtones, no jelly and ice cream.

Just a future for the brave, and an exit for the lost,

The bold the daring the fearless who stand up and pay the cost.

If I was them then surely I'd have awoken from this daze,

Not broken, battered or under nourished, not forgotten in the haze.

The door they say is never shut for those who think before they speak,

The innocent, the guilty, the graceful and the weak.

As one accord we run to hold this door ajar,

Hoping that the lights still on and freedom isn't far.

Surely we can enter this world of make believe,

Where politicians politely smile and justice is conceived.

Timeless new starts, a world at our feet,

Someone to fear and someone to greet.

Convinced by a fortune, my heart on the line,

Preferably your way, exactly in my time.

I hope, I think, I shout, I know, I scream, I go.

The one about the girl with the happy ending

She had that dream again. The one where she was a sitting on the bench, alone, cold and upset. Dressed in skinny jeans and wearing her favourite red beanie. A man approaches her and simply says "You are beautiful". Words she has never heard. Words that pierce her heart and wreck her head and that ring in her ears like a fire alarm in a burnt down house. Was it too late? "How can this be?" She screams and breaks down all on her own. Not one person comes to her aid. For all they know she could be dying. She is. 

Her pain is real when it scars her skin. When the blood runs down her leg, mop it away. Don't let them see. "You're attention seeking", "how could you do such a thing?" "You're too beautiful to self harm" they say. And try and hush her away with funny looks and forced smiles and faces that badly mask their thoughts. She's had it all her life though. Every PE lesson. Every school trip. "Did you run into a door again?" Inside she's hurting. All eyes on her and she hates it. How can they say it. They don't know her. They don't even care. 

She sees him again. The same man. Stood there, she questions whether she is dreaming this time. His eyes are shining like the sun it's self. She can only stand and look. Only to realise that it's her pitiful self staring back. Ashamed and beaten. Scarred by memories, regrets and such verbal abuse she swore she'd never tell. 

Only her pain seemed real in that moment. Aware of the light shining through her as his eyes met hers. She tried to hide and look away but then realised her hurt was becoming extinguished with love. A feeling so numb to her she falls to the floor. He says it again "you are beautiful". Tears rolled down her face. The scars on his body were like those on hers, only deeper and newer and covered every inch. His clothes dripped with blood and tears ran down his cheeks. Yet his face showed only love. They felt something in that moment. They both realised it but neither said a word. After a while he raised his head and broke the silence with these four words. "You were worth it". They hit her like a hole in the head. She started to grasp his concept and struggled to speak. "For me?" She cried as she glanced at his beaten and torn body. She was a train wreck in that moment, overwhelmed with something she had never felt before.

He told her a story about a girl. The girl was only young. She was brought up by a single mum who tried her best to give them both a good start. But it seemed that it was doomed to fail at every part. Bad choices and money management sent them both to the streets where her mum busked for a living and where they struggled to eat. He spoke about her feelings and how she was bullied. He recalled the names of those who had hurt her one by one. He told about the scars on her legs that know one else knew were there. The ones she did with her school compass in her room back in 3rd year after a boy called her ugly. He spoke of her future and all it entailed. A husband and kids and a house of their own. He spoke with such love. A love that covered her and changed something inside the shallow hole known as the human heart. 

It became apparent in her head that the girl he was speaking about with the dark brown hair and autum brown eyes was in fact herself. A mirror image of a hope. A hope she had never known. One that breathed love and shouted acceptance and freedom. One which he told her she could be. One where the past did not define her. That the names she had held were in fact not her. 

Her scars faded like newspaper cuttings taped into a journal as his light shone down on her. Breaking off her pain with every tear she cried. In that moment she felt helpless but safe and free and her heart was alive. She thought about her medication and it's links with her dreams. But this was real. This was true. This was me.

Joy

Please don't understand me. That would complicate this already useless and messed up situation. It's easier to be strange than to be strangers. It's easier to hurt than to be hurt and it's easier to love than be loved.

Apparently writing overly deep quotations comes quite easily to me. If only they sprung up a little more joy at times that would be nice. 

Acceptance

If looks could kill then I just died brutally;  I have become another fatality of assisted suicide. At your hands. Didn't mean it you say? It was all a joke. One that's too late when I'm gone. 

Not a shipwreck this time but a train crash in my head. Oh i long for going down with violins played to sunken dreams. Instead a brutal brick wall of scars from myself invades my path and screams. The helpless the needy, the depressed on my mind. The angry the hurting, the four letter kind. 

L O V E

I've never felt it. Well maybe once. But rejection took its place. The front runner in the race for my heart.  A heart that cries out to a world that sees only a broken soul wearing skinny jeans. Won't someone help me carry this. Anyone? 

I didn't think so. They have all gone. Left me alone in this forest of loneliness. Ready for my soul to be eaten by creatures of bad thoughts and rotten hearts and beanie hats and tshirts of bands I wish i never would  have loved.

What's going on in me? I was a boy with big dreams. Forced down a path that was not of my making. Let me open the boxes. All the boxes. All of them. One must say happiness, surely? With my name on it, with a wife and kids and a sign saying 'judged no more'. I can't find it. Oh there it is. Locked and chained and bandaged by pain and suffering. 

If I change my hair will you let me in?

If I change my skin will you let me in?

If I have no point of view will you adore me then?

If I become who I am not will you love me then. Will you love me then? 

Will you love me. If I take away my self. Will happiness come to me. Will heavens gates swing open? For a son misunderstood. My coffin holds no feeling. My tears will not cry. My heart will not be moved. My face will never smile. My blood will not get warm. 

Light

Light breaks through the darkness shining between the shadows and uncovering vast quantities of unknown potentials and dreams that were laid hidden out of sight. It brings freedom to the prisoners and reassures even the most hurting of souls that behind the thick mist of all surrounding burden there is still hope. It reminds the downcast to look up and see the vastness of life that awaits and it screams to the oppressed to spread their wings in liberty now that the cage doors have been opened. Surely even they can sing again. 

Books

The more I think the more I realise that not every book is to be read. And not every book is to be shared. Some are to hold the door ajar and trust that somewhere out there freedom isn't far. Some have within their grasp the secret keys that unlock the dreams inside your heart, hidden under the most unsuspecting of titles whereas others are just made to look pretty and sit on shelves. 

Deep. 

Countryside

I love the North of England. It's like a montage of colours, sounds, shades and clouds that roll like the hills they look down on. When the sun hovers above the cloud like it's holding on for dear life it highlights the raw beauty of creation. Trees sound tall like soldiers to attention and the wind blows and whistles like a lolly I bought as a kid. I know I'm home on these Tarmac roads all up and down like Morrissey's view of life. Gritty but real. 

Darkness

It gets dark so quick now I've only just realised. Things seem clearer in the dark anyway. Well, the things you are meant to see. The lights and the cars and the buildings. The rest just lingers in the shadows. Probably grateful for a longer rest than July ever gave them. Time to build up some strength and re think things.

I think humans hate that time. Shadow time. The waiting and the resting where nothing ever seems clear and light barely flickers let alone shines. It's in this time where thoughts are conceived and where plans are made. It's where if we choose we can grow. It's where sparks alight and where change happens.

Mostly unseen, unnoticed and rarely appreciated but vital to our inner core if we are ever to keep our fire burning for more than one season. More than one feeling and more than one moment.