Day 318 - Xmasphobia

 

As Christmas approaches, I'm having to learn how to navigate it considering that my brother died on xmas day. It is quite obviously one of those things which is impossible to avoid unless I were to leave the country.

It does seem to me to be quite an easy thing to develop an xmasphobia. A fear of Christmas is actually called Christougenniatikophobia - but it is such a mouthful that it is not surprising that it is largely an unknown word (though, I think the concept is very much known). I can see why so many people who have lost loved ones around this time of the year struggle so much. It is no longer 'the most wonderful time of the year'.

And still ringing in my ears, the words of the celebrant at Ads funeral, 'I believe there was a reason he died on Christmas day.' But as I thought at the time, 'I would like to know that reason. What was it?'

There is not much that I can offer in terms of tips on how to navigate Christmas if you don't like it. I have always, up until now, quite liked it and so I really don't know. Maybe read a good book to escape? I am unsure. I'm not sure which traditions to keep and which to jettison. Should I still send out cards? Should I still do presents and Christmas lunch and the whole social part of it? As ever, it seems like a lot of these things are not entirely voluntary anyway. Xmas pressure.

When they set up the annual Christmas German market in Birmingham, tears filled my eyes as I walked past it. I tried to avoid it at first. It felt a bit like psychological flooding. Face your fears, (whether you want to or not). There simply is no choice, I would have to leave this world to escape from Christmas. And besides, I don't want to never celebrate it again. There are many parts of the season which I still like.

In the hospital last year, I had given my brother a Christmas present, hung in a red Santa sock. It was nothing really, a necklace with a gecko pendant (my brother always a lover of reptiles and amphibians). Really, I just wanted there to be something cheery in the depressing hospital room. I knew at the time that Ad probably wouldn't get to open it. He didn't. His present for Christmas was not what any of us wanted.

I wish I could offer some helpful advice on how those who are grieving at this time of year should navigate Christmas, but I simply do not know. I don't currently feel that I have the luxury to do more than attempt to survive it.

There are only a few more blog entries left of this public yearlong prayer strike. I will leave them as a record of the things I have gone through this first year and my thoughts during this time. I will stop on Christmas day. I guess I will blog on the day itself, if I get the chance, and then my prayer strike will be less vocal. It will not be over, but I will not be blogging about it every week. I haven't really planned much beyond that. Perhaps I will return to the topic now and again as I will keep blogging.

Maybe somebody will find what I have written helpful. I hope so. Either way there will be a record here. I don't think I will try to publish these blogs into book format. There are other things I want to focus on.

So, how has God responded after 11 months of my prayer strike? I can sum that up in two words - deeply disappointingly.

So far…

Day 311 - Spiritual survival kits

 

It seems to me that on becoming a believer of any kind, an individual is given (or told to get) a plastic bag containing approximately three things to survive. They couldn't even be bothered with a rucksack, just a plastic bag - not particularly good for the environment but in some ways like gold dust. Inside the bag are a few items...

• The first is a walkie-talkie. Yes, an invisible one. The believer is usually told to pray to their god of choice. Except with far fewer incoming messages than outgoing ones. And a lot of interference.

• The second is a map. A Bible, a Quran, a Torah, The Vedas. Supposedly giving direction in various situations and often prone to being misunderstood and read the wrong way round.

• The third is shelter. A community of other believers. Churches, synagogues, mosques, temples even. Consider it a little like shelter if the storms outside are getting a little too intense and you are fed up trying to make a hat out of the plastic bag you were originally given.

Is there anything else in the plastic bag? Not much. Some people say that they receive spiritual gifts, but, for the most part, we are like Mirabel in Encanto and often do not receive a gift. Hey, maybe we should count our blessings to even get the plastic bag.

After that you are pretty much on your own. You are supposed to read your map, use your walkie talkie and not avoid the shelters, unless you've been locked up or something, in which case it is okay.

When I first became a believer (which, as I say, happened through a prayer), I wasn't given a plastic bag exactly. I was given a paper flyer saying when the next church service was and a warning that a coal which falls away from the other coals in a fire will no longer burn hot and red. They were times of immense change as I tried to adjust myself to a new landscape and worldview.

So, it is always a big no-no if a believer fails to use any one of the items within their plastic bag. Most of the sermons in the shelter are meant to encourage people to use their walkie-talkie or else read their map. If you are lucky, you might get told that you should take action based on the map’s directions to help you survive on your journey in the wild.

Believers can spend a lot of time looking to see if there is anything else in the plastic bag. As a spiritual tool-kit, the contents are sparse. Maybe climbing into the bag would act as a portal through which one might escape? No, it doesn't. There are no portals. And our God is invisible no matter how many times they tell us to keep our eyes on him. And when they say that, they just mean ‘use your walkie-talkie’ or ‘read the map’ or ‘go to the shelter’ anyway.

There is, of course, one last thing that I have neglected to mention. The presence of your chosen God. Think of your God like a companion or guide. Somehow... We are told... He/She/They is with us all the time, inside us even, and we are to be aware of that. We are told that this is a fact, however we feel. So, along with our often-faulty internal compasses, our consciences, we also have another guide, one who can bring peace and comfort and, who is, I imagine, trustworthy. Providing it is the Creator God we are talking about (The Creator God being kind of important). Given that God is supposed to be inside us, you might wonder why we are so often prone to making some quite catastrophic mistakes and treat others so badly. But that is because of ‘the enemy’ and his/her/their/its evil plans.

It is a fact that I am not currently using my walkie-talkie and that I am finding it difficult to refer to the map. I think, at this point, I’ve thrown the walkie-talkie into some soggy ditch. The map is so complex and not terribly helpful. I am not finding it terribly helpful, even when people post their favourite portions of it online in memes. But I know the map fairly well and have always been reasonably good at reading maps, from when I was a child, sitting in the back seat of the car with my brother and offering directions.

Of course, there are many maps. And there are many types of walkie-talkie (and channels and recipients of the messages).

Don't think that the survival kit is for the believers alone. Well, think what you like, but try not to express it at dinner parties. There are other things which people use to direct their lives. Like common sense. Or the declaration of human rights. Or a favourite self-help book. The road less travelled...

All kinds of plastic bags are handed out to all kinds of people. Each one believing that their map and walkie talkie are the best. As AI might say 'It is up to the individual to decide which map is the most accurate'.

And for those who eschew all maps and walkie-talkies? Well, I guess there are always the angels to protect from the pummelling rain and the saturating cold.

Maybe that’s all any of us really have anyway. A kind angel to be on our side through our life journey. To keep our personal demons far from us so that we don’t even have to listen to their uncaring voices.

Goodness knows that so many forces are not on our side in any meaningful way.

Like death himself, who is not entirely reasonable or helpful, whether we come to terms with him or not. And who does not seem to care about our various walkie-talkies, maps, shelters or plastic bags.

Maybe something else is hidden at the bottom of the bag? Like a shiny hope in Pandoras Box or something? Or a 1 terabyte memory stick containing a more helpful online map that everyone apart from us must surely know about? And the link to some more useful resources beyond mere words and stories...

I'm not sure if or when I will read my map or use my walkie talkie again (or try to dig it out from the ditch). The resources and provision given to most of us are, I feel, very threadbare.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 304 - Not praying, but still writing

 

Although I may have stopped praying, I haven’t stopped writing. Earlier this year, in the first months after my brother died, I mapped out a sequel to my parable – The Parable of the Cold Island.

My writing has been very much influenced by Ad’s death… I’m not really sure how any writer can divorce their real lives from their writing lives.

Above is the cover for the new publication (my first physical book since 2018).

Since the pandemic, for some reason, I have found it very hard to read. I have read some books, but these have only been short, including short stories. I was surprised to find that I’m not alone and that a lot of people now struggle to read anything of any length. I’m not quite sure of the reason for this – maybe it was because we were so much in survival mode during the pandemic and reading felt like a luxury many of us didn’t have. It became hard to concentrate.

So, I have written a short book. I’ve been working on it since February and it will be published at the start of December.

As with all parables, there is more to it than the surface story. I will leave it for readers to figure out.

It will be published as a physical book, an ebook and an audiobook.

(There will be no Halloween story this year, but you should be able to find a lot of them on this blog under October for the past ten years.)

The new book is dedicated to my brother and his partner.

Day 297 - Where is my God?

 

Apparently, I’m heckling God.

A Christian told me so. I had been unaware that my blogs were interrupting God's sermon or speech, but now I know. Perhaps I am lucky not to get thrown out of the audience? And beaten up down some alley?

The reaction from other believers towards my prayer strike has been mixed. A lot of them are very understanding and are kind towards me. That is much appreciated. But then there are others who are less than happy with what I’m doing (or, more accurately, with what I’m not doing). Reactions vary from, 'You should pray continually!' through to a downright antagonism, as if my ‘not praying’ is somehow so totally against the party line that I’m, in fact, the enemy. The believer who said I was heckling God went on to say that I have become God's enemy (which was news to me). Kinder people tell be to express my feelings to God but I see no reason to continually restate them to the Almighty. I'm not God's enemy, but that doesn't mean I have to like the things he does (and doesn't do).

I don't think, before this, that I had been even aware of the pressure to pray. But it is there, either through pressing circumstances, wars, pandemics, earthquakes or Popes and Archbishops telling everyone that they should pray. It’s like a kind of mental torture - 'Pray, damn you!'. My respect for those who choose not to has increased significantly (even if I did the same for my first 19 years).

And, of course, when there is ‘big trouble’ © in the world, the Popes, the Archbishops and the believers tell everyone to pray (and if that doesn't work, ‘pray more and pray harder’). I'm pretty sure it’s the only plan of most faith leaders.

We have just had a pandemic and some earthquakes and now we are straight into more war. When is God going to give us a break? Of course, no-one blames God for the latest war (surely he is innocent?). Even my calling for a ceasefire last week set some people off. Choose a side, are you a mod or are you a rocker?

'I will bless those who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse.'

That's in the Bible, in the context of talking about the nation of Israel and there are actually people who put their entire prosperity (and the non-prosperity of others) down to that scripture. I've read some of their blogs and listened to their interviews. They genuinely believe they get bonus points with the Almighty if a country supports Israel. And if a country does not.... then Judgement and Wrath!

God would do that. He’s so obsessed.

They actually divide countries up into 'sheep' and 'goat' nations. You can probably guess who the goodies and who the baddies are. So, of course, the UK and the US must be sheep nations because they (at least vocally) support Israel. And all those goat nations just happen to be our political enemies. Russia, China, Iran. Funny how our enemies are always the goat nations isn't it? So much nationalism and political pride and religion all mixed together in one potent, intoxicating brew. I am no longer sure that the UK is a ‘sheep nation’ in any meaningful sense, apart from the fact that people like me are sheeple. I think we are probably a goat nation. Or maybe an ibex nation. Because we don't do the right thing and our Government doesn't look after its poor and vulnerable and we’re not even very good at looking after each other, are we?

Britain is a goat nation. Well, some of us happen to like (and even feel like) goats so don't feel as if I'm talking the country down.

It's one hell of a plan and solution... 'Pray'. The entire blueprint to a future vision, surely (a vision which our leaders seem to noticeably lack)? Society, and civilization, it seems to me, are threadbare and not very good at functioning in a crisis. Sneak in one night and unlock the secret archives at the very top of the faith institutions and it wouldn't surprise me if you found a golden filing cabinet with a top-secret file in it and a tiny piece of paper revealing their big plan and vision for humanity!  And scrawled in a spidery text by a nervous hand....

 

Top secret:

Plan A… Pray?

Plan B… Pray?

Plan C… Run away.

 

Our shepherds could surely do no more than make their plans for us?

But I wouldn't want to heckle the Almighty…

Baaaa… 

Day 290 - A call for a ceasefire

 

Well, I haven’t prayed for Israel, despite my wish that there would be peace there (and here and elsewhere). I’m not sure that violence is a terribly effective strategy for either side.

The Israeli war operation is actually called ‘Swords of Iron’ – and the irony is that despite the so-called convictions of many writers and journalists, many will still join their pen with the sword of one side or the other. So much for the pen being mightier than the sword, eh? All I’m saying at this point is that maybe there are other solutions than simply killing the enemy? At least prayer is non-violent, but shouldn’t both sides be prayed for? There should, at least, be a ceasefire. A blessing on both their houses. But who listens to moderate voices anymore?

My brother would sometimes boycott Israeli goods, similarly exasperated by the whole situation, I guess. We didn’t agree on Middle-Eastern politics. There was adversity on that issue. Another testy situation, allowed by a testy God. I’m not praying for it unless it escalates into World War III.

I had a dream about my brother last night.

When he died, I had expected my dreams (which are not usually very sweet anyway) to be quite tumultuous as my unconscious dealt with it all. What surprised me was how banal my dreams became. In fact, they were notably forgettable. If there were something really important that I needed to deal with in my waking life, it was not repeated in my dreams.

My dreams are almost always Kafkaesque. By which I mean that it is very rare for me to dream about anyone being friendly towards me. They tend to be full of people and things that want to harm me in some way. Often there are huge conspiracies, and a few recurring themes.

But as I say, in the immediate days after my brother died, my dreams became absolutely unremarkable.

And, there were no dreams of my brother. So last night's dream was unusual. And he was friendly with me. 

I will always remember a childhood dream with my brother in it and him being on my side in the dream against the monsters. It was memorable simply because so few of the characters in my dreams are benevolent.

It’s rare for someone to be nice to me in dreams or nightmares.

 

They say that God can speak through dreams, but if that is true, I wonder why so many of us have so many nightmares. It seems as if it is not just God and our subconscious which can speak through our nightmares, as so many can be so horrific. I have learned the trick of averting my ‘dream eyes’ when there is extreme gore in a nightmare and weirdly that works for me. Try it. But often there is an extreme body-horror far worse than the horror movies that I sometimes still watch.

 

‘A brother is born for adversity.’

 

This is in the Bible. Whether nightmare monsters or waking monsters. I always wanted Ad to feel I was on his side. I did not feel that we were born for adversity in terms of fighting each other (though sometimes we did), but that we were to fight greater adversities together. Whether this be the latest Government nastiness or other things. Of course, we were not able to fight the cancer together, though I tried to be on his side through it all, even when his language became affected by the aphasia which turned his talk to gobbledygook. It must have been so hard for him. The aphasia was not something any of us expected and was so unhelpful, causing huge confusion and misunderstandings. Language pretty much left him at the end. That must have been so hard.

How do you fight death together, knowing that death will win in the end? Fascinating as it is, it is still an enemy in my mind. It's real enough and hardly fair, is it? Worse still, who is on our side when we fight it? Not everyone. Four legged friends surely are… maybe? Love may be as powerful as death, but in many ways, death wins.

Worse still, all the believers who go around saying God has defeated death. Yes, but for whom? For himself. Great. He hasn't defeated death yet in any meaningful way for us. And no one here gets out alive. Go God.

 

It’s not the only thing God gets the praise for which he hasn't even done yet.

People tend to praise someone for something after an event. Oh, but not the Almighty, he wants the praise right now. And none of the blame. Not for death, or cancer, or wars… or anything.

It's a waking nightmare.

And just another reason for me to continue to give him the silent treatment.

That’s not war, that’s just a not-talking thing.

Still, maybe there should be a ceasefire all around.

The pen should be mightier than the sword (and not join with the sword).

Your voice matters.

Day 283 - Is prayer fair?

 

I wonder how fair prayer is.

If you think about it, it is a kind of popularity contest in some ways. If you are a leader of a country or a celebrity, then you are likely to get a lot of prayers. But if you are relatively unknown, then there is not going to be much prayer support is there? So a famous preacher, who is ill, is likely to get a lot more prayer than… say someone like my brother, who was not famous.

During the latter part of the brain-cancer, I tried to organise some prayer support. This was when I believed that prayer was a lot more efficacious than I do now. Ad was always very open to people praying for him. He wasn’t one of those people who found the whole idea offensive and a kind of secret invasion of privacy or human rights. However, he was also very honest in any feedback. “It’s not working,” he would often say.

Alongside looking for medical trials, I tried to organise a prayer campaign and got my brother on church prayer lists and a friend even kindly organised a Mass to be said for him. I even emailed the faith healers, but I wanted to spare Ad the worst of that because so many faith healers are unaccountable and their success record is not always as great as they claim it to be. Some of them are simply dodgy.

And, of course, before I stopped praying – I prayed for him.

If prayer is dependent on the number of prayers you get, then is it any wonder that our kings, queens, politicians, celebrities often thrive and live life to the full? But if you are relatively isolated, or if you do not know many believers, then who is going to pray for you? It isn’t fair if the efficacy of prayers is based on the number of people praying them. Hopefully, you would think that the Almighty might take this into account. But who knows?

Prayer is supposed to heal. We have some very exciting stories in faith circles about doctors saying things like: “We’ve never seen anything like it, the tumour just disappeared! We can’t explain it.”

However, in my brother’s case, the words said by the doctors were: “We’ve never seen anything like it, the tumour has grown back faster than we have ever seen!”

It was a kind of miracle in reverse. An elcarim.

And I am so sick of miracles in reverse.

My belief in prayer remains, I suppose. After all, I wouldn’t be on a prayer-strike if I did not believe that prayer, in some way or form, did not do things which we cannot always understand. However, if the flaky church signs are to be believed: ‘Seven days without prayer makes one weak.’ Then I really must be in a bad spiritual state mustn’t I? And I’m not the only one.

I think prayer is a good deed. I’m sure it is more complicated than that, but it is not the most enjoyable thing in the world is it?

On and on they go about how God does not need our prayers. So, why all the manipulations to pray then?

The gods do not need our worship, they have their nectar and ambrosia, so what is the problem?

Prayer is not fair.

Day 276 - Digital legacies

 

Managing my brother’s online presence and accounts has not been the easiest thing. Not everyone thinks of their digital legacy and my brother was one of them. He was not especially privacy conscious – being forgetful of passwords to the extent that I found he had even kept his bank card pin numbers in his wallet.

Many of the accounts I simply closed down rather than informing the website companies that he was no longer living. As soon as I had his Google account and email passwords (the main ones in my brother’s case), I was able to access most of the social media and online accounts. The Tell Us Once service had largely done its job in informing most of the Government departments that he’d died. But I always knew that Ad was much more than just his National Insurance or Government Gateway number. I’m not sure that the Government departments did.

He wasn’t hugely into his tech, unlike me, and resisted any urges to buy crypto or have lots of online accounts. He had those he needed for his work and a few for listening to music or watching things he was interested in.

The email account password was perhaps the most useful thing and the thing I would recommend for people to store and share with loved ones (along, I suppose with your master password and maybe Google account password). I still check the Outlook email and unlike with his redirected post, he will still get emails every day. A lot of them are junk or scam emails from people who really do not care if you and I are alive or dead.

I also manage his website, as I did while he was still alive. He would give me exact instructions of how he wanted everything set up – which images went where and what text to put in. I did all this out of love, wanting to support him. When I suggested I design a logo for him he was apologetic in refusing me – telling me that he really didn’t want to be like every other artist. That idea was scrapped.

I didn’t go around digging into his browsing history after he died. If I had wanted to, I could have seen his whole online life on Chrome, but I thought it best to delete all the searches. I’m pretty sure he never did anything particularly illegal or dubious.

Mostly he would leave scraps of canvas around with written ideas and phrases to go with his art. I already knew he could write, although he had problems with some of his punctuation. So, he would incorporate the writing into his art and I think this worked. He also wrote some poetry and simple phrases which he found interesting. He was a man who followed his interests deeply.

When I was a boy I had similar interests to him, I guess because I looked up to him, and he would always call me a copycat for being interested in reptiles and amphibians too. But because we shared so many of the same interests, it was fun to go on adventures and search for animals. He was interested in computer games as a child, but I remember I was the one who was more interested in that. I once wrote a book of reviews of the games I liked and even swapped much of my coin collection with my brother… in exchange for computer games. He was always the wiser one.

I often think of digital legacy now. All the emails and messages which come through every day and which, to an extent will continue after we die. They just carry on as normal, leaving a red dot telling you that they need to be dealt with immediately (known to advertisers as one of the most effective hooks… and to consumers as ‘the tyranny of the red dot’). Most of them are not particularly important. I check my mobile as much as anyone though, so I’m not going to start going on about screen time. I’m just saying that when you die, all that doesn’t stop, it’s just that click-throughs and replies tend to decrease somewhat.

The website is remaining. I intend to continue to promote my brothers work, if I can. Some of us creatives put some hope in posthumous success, if we have not been as successful as we would have liked in our lifetimes. But it often does not happen. We have to live with that fact. We have our own lives to get on with, but I will try not to neglect my brother’s art.

Take care of your digital legacy.