3 January 2021

 

I would like to wish everyone, A Happy New Year. Let us hope that our situation steadily improves as the days get longer and spring replaces winter. This has certainly been an unprecedented festive season for us ALL, as the ongoing challenges of the restrictions to combat the coronavirus pandemic bite into our lives, in every way. We have become increasingly weary of the frightening gloom of the daily news, and we are constantly aware that our whole life psyche must require adapting and changing in order to accommodate yet another viral threat. Indeed over the last few days, there has been much reference to the awfulness of the year just past, but surely a year is only a measurement of time and not in itself the cause of good or bad. In the earlier months of 2020 the weather, for instance, was actually quite pleasant. Think how truly horrible the first Lockdown would have been, were we to have had to queue, for our food shopping, out in the cold, wet and wind. It was the awfulness of the pandemic itself that was so totally unbearable...people dying and the feeling of helplessness. It was, all of that, that we wanted away from. Sadly the change over to 2021 has not been the sudden switching on of a light. No, it is going to take a long time, to resolve things and recover. Of course for this very reason, the usual fire of seasonal optimism and expectation, was largely extinguished this time round. While we must accept and go along with the restrictions, it is absolutely vital, we must do whatever it takes not to let ourselves or people we know and care about become lonely or stranded in isolation. Keeping contact with each other by telephone or on social media, is a life line to many people.

Now being very much a "people person", I certainly did miss all the old traditions that accompany the happy socializing, of our festive season. These traditions relating to the celebration of the new year are very ancient and refer to the natural cycle of life. It was symbolic that, from the dying embers of the old year's fire, emerged the sparks to ignite the bright flames of the new year's fire. It was deemed essential and therefore a good omen to keep the fire, if lite, burning from one year to the next. Hence the origins of the carrying of coal from one house to another, at "Hogmany". I always associate this time of year with huge crackling fires, great food, wonderful company, with lots of music and laughter. In our home the fire was very much at the centre everything. This year there was no enthusiasm to have a living fire burning. Instead I had two very large church candles burning near the fireplace and at the changing of the year, "The Bells", I lite fresh candles from the old ones. But this evoked an overwhelming and unexpected flood of emotion of what had passed and in effect was being left in 2020. This is also the traditional time to remember people, to forgive and atone, and to tidy accounts and make payments. Not to bring anything that are unresolved, forward into the start of the new year is a universal feature of a new year celebration.

So far three dawns have heralded fine crisp days, with amber clouded skies of blue above and a glistening frosty ground. I gingerly tread cautious steps on my walk along the shore. The gentle action of the tide is a natural calming and reassuring essence. With my mind and emotions thus stimulated I am ready to face the day. At the start of a year I have always tried to put into place some sort of "resolution" or thumb nail proposal for the longer hours of day light. I need and want to immerse myself in my garden. Getting close to that cycle of nature, planting things, nurturing them and encouraging them grow can enrich anyone's life, and it does. There is something very wonderful about getting the soil of the Earth, under your fingernails. I must be a crofter after all! Let us hope, that as we carry forward the current challenges we will do so with spirits raised by brighter and stimulating days. Staying safe and staying healthy.

Some thoughts on the New Year, Sunday 3rd January 2021. KB.

Christmas 2020

 Whatever else we say or think Christmas was always meant to be a special time with great expectations. It should be a time to celebrate the hopes for the future, the love, happiness and togetherness with cherished family and friends, and the delight of giving gifts that honour it's symbolism. But this simply cannot always be and this year so many people everywhere in our world, (myself included), are facing a sad and lonely time. The global, international, national and local news are grim and gloomy. This is surely not what is meant by the most magical time of the year. I decided to rescue myself from a potential all consuming abyss. I had been simply unable to imagine my first Christmas without my mother, never in my life had I been to sit at any other table but her's. This was to be another of those "awful first events"...So I needed to rescue myself. Shake off the awful sadness of current world news, the overwhelming tragic local events, that were emerging and remember what day it was. Sure!... 'twas the night before Christmas. This was indeed Christmas Eve, now in our home when I was growing up this was the very most special and magical day of the year. I remember little customs my parents established that became family traditions. If this is to be a sort of new beginning for me, then I too must establish new traditions of my own. But right now, like countless more people, looking to the future it is a harsh reality. The very best thing is to start from a solid base and reflect on the happier memories of our past. So thinking of Christmases past I went off to explore in Christmas present. I bought some food and drink to enjoy, over the next days of restricted isolation and a lovely clutch of gifts for the cherished people in my life. In the happy process, I actually reflected on exactly why my parents loved Christmas Eve so much.

It was 1955, exactly sixty-five years ago that they first met. She was Barbara MacLeod, a very beautiful eighteen year old student, home for Christmas, from Glasgow. He was Willie Burns, a hansome twenty-three year old, junior marine engineer, home "on leave" from the merchant navy. Barbara, and her four older sisters had settled for a welcome rest and refreshing "cuppa", in Capaldi's, Central Cafe, in Cromwell Street "Narrows", opposite "Woolies", Stornoway, when the rather bold and dashing, Willie, followed in and gathering confidence approached, the rather proud youngest sister, inviting her to accompany him to the "Stephen Burns Limited, Staff Social", to be held in the Royal Hotel, on Friday 30th December 1955. By all accounts she politely accepted and was surprised to be given a ticket just as he dashed off. (The said ticket survives, I found it recently, having been lovingly keep in an album). But he hadn't established where and when they would meet, or asked where she stayed. But being Stornoway that would present no problem, eh!

Indeed Barbara quickly concluded that if this young man was determined enough he would succeed in his quest and find her. She was staying with her eldest sister in a newly completed council house, in Leverhulme Drive. Like many other towns in 1955 Stornoway was expanding with bright new social housing, to cater for the increase in young families and provide decent homes for more people. The residents in this street had not yet got to know each other, having only moved in about a month before. Willie had heard that Barbara's sister was a Mrs MacLeod, on the island people often marry to someone with the same name. But he did not establish exactly which house was their home. His quest therefore required him to knock on every door. Barbara waited patiently, and her brother-in-law teased her about her lost boy! The more she got teased the more determined she was to see him. Eventually he found her and they got to the party... Soon afterwards, they started to see more of each other, in Glasgow and Stornoway. They got engaged to be married on the 11th November 1956, and were married on 12th March 1958. They went on to have four sons and I am the second.

So as I wondered around in Cromwell Street Narrows, Stornoway, this Christmas Eve (2020), I took some time to reflect on a happier Christmas Eve. I also know of course why my parents celebrated...And of course, we must now ALL come together in the unity of friendship, even if we are apart for whatever reason. We will actually be here for each other, everyone, always. I would like to hope I rescued just a little of the symbolism of Christmas.

12 December 2020

 In response to some very kind comments to my last posts, where folk have suggested I compile these thoughts and reflections of mine together. I have been looking back over these writings during the past few weeks and others from further back. Indeed it would be really wonderful if my experience over the last few years could be of any use at all to anyone.

First I would have to say, I did what I did... to care for my dear mother as an act of unconditional love, therefore it was actually easy and as I have often said a huge privilege. But the aftermath of her passing has been so hard, painfully so. Nothing, not even the acceptance of dealing with a terminal illness, can prepare a person for the death of a loved one. In the past few weeks since my own loss a number of friends have sadly had similar experiences and there quickly builds a bond of empathy, as we convey genuine messages of support for the universal sorrow we feel... But it is impossible to find anything to adequately express the scale of this grief, though it is kind to try... No one can truly come to terms with the finality of death...the awful infinity of passing. It is futile to try. A huge void of negativity awaits, which is unpleasant and must be resisted. It is much more positive to embrace things with faith, love and hope. I have deliberately refrained from presenting a sermon here, as I am far from being wise enough yet to do so, as I have only just begun my journey. I am reminded of the old saying, " a little knowledge is a dangerous thing", and I certainly know that there are many much more knowledgeable than I am at present. I also have a personal need to retain my theological beliefs in a separate much more private identity as I explore this world. I am still gathering my pieces together and embarking in the processes of coming to terms with my loss, I have simply no idea how long this may take. But I now understand and can pass on the information that this must not be forced, rushed or pushed. The emotions of bereavement are very deep and highly unpredictable. It is best to allow the feelings to flow freely. It is excellent to talk about how things are, share memories, thoughts and feelings. I do all of these, and need to go back for more...There is no limit. Kind listening is like shared love it is limitless and carries on being multiplied.

Positivity is vital at this dark time of year, we usually need to invent massive doses of it, which explains why there are so many festivals of light throughout the world. I do think, it is so very hard to stay positive and try to be bright and cheerful when there is so little day light. So December presents a real challenge, every year and particularly this one. I know that I am a creature of the brighter time of the year and function better during the long days and short nights. So instead of simply wishing the winter away I personally need to increase my activity levels and focus on the special unique aspects of it. There are also opportunities to organize and plan things inside, outside and around our homes, for when the days get longer. I am very aware that for me there is a huge amount to catch up on and this something that all of us, probably, require to consider sensibly. I also know that physical endeavour can combat mental and emotional fragility. I intend to put these ideas into action. So maybe watch this space!

Just thinking out loud, in the dark, silence...

12 November 2020

 

I have to consider where I am at, five weeks since my dear mother past away... What are my priorities for the re-direction of my life. Do I try to pick up the shattered pieces? Or, leave the void and refocus to create a new life?

I am slowly coming to terms with the emptiness, the end of my purpose of care and the long road, that now stretches out, with plenty time to begin occupying... Could be an overwhelming and insurmountable peak or cavernous precipice, from which to haul myself.

Now I am naturally a happy chap who thrives on fun and laughter. So, when, I was most kindly invited, soon after my dear mother passed away, to join cousins from my favourite part of the island, for a welcome burst of light and hope, over the last two weekends. I jumped at these opportunities to be away from what could have been dark and gloomy times. The first event was a wonderful, Halloween, Socially Distanced, Wedding, where I met friends and relatives and experienced a beautiful and unique event. Thank you Patti and Alex XX.

The second was a full weekend away from everything. To my beloved Atlantic horizon of Dalmore, with my cousin Neen. I was incredibly well looked after, pampered indeed, and I absolutely loved the attention I was given! We put the whole Universe to right around a peat fire. How good is that! The Atlantic air helped me to catch up on sleep and I was rejuvenated and revitalized, enough to deal with all the activities and chores of the days ahead. Thank you Neen X.

So, I have managed to get on with my personal goals for this week. A special week in historical terms.

Monday 9 November 2020, commemorated the 82nd anniversary of Kristallnacht - the night of the broken, or shattered glass, the awful moment when the Jews of Europe were given the most evil forewarning of what was to come...

Wednesday 11 November 2020, Remembrance Day for ALL global conflicts, wars and the assault on humanity generally.

We must remember and reflect, the suffering in the wider world and the vulnerability of humanity to be reduced by evil forces... We must do everything we can to oppose it and support the bravery that fights against it. We must always remember the lives that have been lost...

On a personal note, I am such a truly lucky man to have been so kindly thought of and included in ways which stole me away from my sadness, these past two weekends. I feel I am fortunate to have such special and wonderful friends and relatives who are watching out for me, at this time... What can I say... Love is a truly powerful force in our world, may it prevail always.

A few thoughts, generated last weekend, while aware of the rolling waves breaking the sharp Atlantic horizon. KB

24 October 2020

 ...Well, what now, for me? Time can change everything, a flash of a second and a life can be gone, and another one's fulcrum shattered. The loss of a precious loved one creates only a void, and the process of grief is painful and slow. For me, my "auto pilot" of responding and listening out for the requirements of my dear mother are still active though she passed away seventeen or so days ago. Coming to terms with my loss cannot be rushed.

The day before she died, I shared a glimmer of the vitality and wisdom of the special woman who my mother was, by relating her early lesson to us, her four sons, on sharing love and experiencing it grow and multiply. It was as profound and positive to me then, when I first heard it, as a small preschool boy, as it is now getting on for sixty. So I am thinking some things cannot diminish when we lose a loved one. The very love for the person continues. It would appear that I explored this theme in the aftermath of my father's and granny's passing in 1993. Only ten weeks between the two bereavements. I tried to offer some counseling to my grieving mother, writing the thoughts in letter form. I have actually just found a couple that must have seemed particularly fitting and poignant, as they were folded in one of her many cherished poetry books, which she always kept close by where she sat. It seems we comforted each other and discussed our feelings as we came to accept those losses. My dear father died suddenly in the midst of a job, on the morning of 5th May 1993, he was only 60 years old. My dear granny, my mother's mother, whom she had cared for the last ten years of her life, in our family home, died four days after her 90th birthday, in the afternoon of 18th July 1993. That day, she spent a number of hours seeking a specific chapter in her well used Holy Bible, when she had finished reading it, she proclaimed to my mother, "Well Barbara, everything will be alright now...", then lay back on her bed and gently passed away. A beautiful passing for beautiful person. Six months, or so, later my poor grieving mother suffered a stroke, which robbed her of a number of faculties most notably her sight and field of vision. Still a very gregarious and active 55 year old, her new disability meant she was put off driving, this was a huge impact on her life and a terrible loss of her independence and a degree of her self esteem. But she diligently sent back her driving license as requested by the DVLA. Two weeks later, on a Monday morning, at about 8.30am, two Sy, PCs knocked on the door to "collect" that driving license. Her shock nearly caused another stroke. After that I became very protective of my dear little mother, for she had become a vulnerable person for the first time. I never ever let on that I felt she was in need of my protection. I clearly remember the time that I suggested, she register as partially sighted, and then apply for travel pass. "Oh! No, Kenneth, I won't be eligible". Her pride and dignity caused her to delay for years. But with the travel pass came some freedom, independence and self-confidence. She would just take off, away on the ferry, bus and train and come to stay with me in Glasgow, which she loved as it gave her the chance to spread the contact with all her grandchildren.

The dynamic person that she was had certainly become vulnerable, over the last year it became unbearably clear that she was dying. She wanted me to apply for Carer's Allowance, she actually insisted. I got some, but my own income has never been "normal", and is erratic and the awards of Carer's Allowance reflected this. Then as I began to go through the things required last week, spending time in telephone queues to the Department of Work and Pensions, having to speak to various officials, with various sensitivities, receiving wrong letters without the forms, I got through to a genuine human being a real person. Who told me "not to worry that he could deal with my concern and would be able make an outstanding back payment"... I didn't hear all the details as I became overwhelmed, and yes broke down on the 'phone to a government official. Who had in fact become very special at that moment. It went through me that I was actually getting something on my dear mother's behalf and she was no longer here ... I have good moments, where positive thoughts prevail, these sway with the bad ones the truly sad ones. The realization of what it is to be mortal. The reality of the moment I dreaded for so long. One of my many dear friends sent me a great quote about the penalty for love being grief, as in we only experience true grief, if indeed we experience true love.

I will need a lot of time to fill the vast void that now occupies my life. I will require to find a new focus to reset that auto response and develop a new purpose that reflects things I've learnt in a positive and sensitive approach. It must happen swiftly as possible to put into action the things that I promised my mother I would do. This will help in accepting what has happened and begin opening the doors of living once again.

Some thoughts, memories and ideas, or nocturnal contemplation to share during a stormy night/early hours Saturday 24th October 2020.

5 October 2020

 

I was reminded a brief moment ago about a beautiful formative lesson on love, given to us four brothers by our dear mother. When we were very little boys we had a truly hansome cat, a ginger tom and proud of that he was. Then a kind neighbour presented us with a cute little puppy, a little mongrel who grew into the most faithful dog imaginable. When the puppy arrived our mother gently explained that our love for the cat was not lessened, instead the love was multiplied and shared, love we were told expands and multiplies. I now know that there is a very special strength in sharing love, and this is especially true when we face a trauma or crisis. As I write there is the global trauma and crisis of the corona virus pandemic, which the world is having to learn to deal with in all it's consequences. People must actually unite in a genuinely altruistic way to protect everyone else. We must share human love to support others. Away from this pandemic there are many private and personal traumas and crisis, as I can personally testify. Other diseases continue to rip into people's lives causing pain and heartache.

Time is clearly drawing my dear mother's life to it's conclusion and over the past five days her physical deterioration has become much worse. I only leave her when she is in a deep sleep. Since I became her full time carer, all I have ever wanted for her is be as comfortable as possible, unfortunately that is no longer really achievable even with the most effective pain relieve. The most awful thing is to watch, helpless, as the cancer consumes every aspect of her physical being, yet her mental capacity is so far virtually untouched... The exit from this life is often horrible, marked by distinct stages, it is always overwhelmingly sad. I have been privileged to have been able to care for my mother. We still tease each other, I have learnt a vast amount from her and I have grown in a very special way, yet still learning and loving this most special lady, my mother.

A shared expression love.

22 September 2020

 

As an "artist" (now I usually prefer to say I'm a painter, if nothing else it is less pompus), I frequently get asked if I am painting. To which I respond "yes, I indeed I am". Painting, the manipulation of coloured mediums in many directions in order to express and convey the visual stimulation and inspiration, that flood my mind. To be honest I simply never stop and much of it is very internalized and personal. At the moment with the challenges we are all facing, I feel fortunate to have this natural outlet. I also enjoy exploring other forms of communication. One of the best to lift our spirit is discussion, through the straightforward means of chat, thus we express thoughts and emotions. But crucially we share such feelings. For me, despite being primarily a visual person, I have learned the power of the verbal expression. Words can shortcut ideas and express a range of things directly. At the moment my visual expression is a little too personal and rather raw. I need to let my current drawings and paintings settle and cure a little like a wine needing to breath. Before I feel able to share these images I require to understand and process them myself. So. through these posts, expressing my thoughts in dry words without illustration and I can keep my own mind clear.

In this truly frightening period in the history of humanity we each need to find a means to clear our minds and gather our thoughts. In short we need to keep sane. Through the darkness of night, in the absence of dear supportive friends, when I feel vulnerable, alone and overwhelmed, I think of the joys of colour. I can paint in my minds eye. So in truth I never stop painting. Of course there are many and varied ways to keep sane and find joy.

Some thoughts to share on a wet and windy, autumnal day. KB.