Solitude

Yesterday I had planned to diagnose car troubles, goat proof fences, dig yams and go for a run. The weather put an end to these plans. Instead I did some sorting out in my study at home. I found an old poster I prepared perhaps 25 years ago. It was a sort of graffiti board on which I had written quotes that were meaningful to me and expressed my values. Some had faded and were unreadable but before I threw it out I made sure I had the quotes. I will share a few with you in the next few posts.

If a man does not keep pace with his companions

perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer.

Let him step to the music he hears

however measured or far away.

- Henry David Thoreau

After an evening service in my first ministry, a friend, a lady I knew very well came up to me and quoted that at me. She said that I walked to the beat of a different drummer. She commented that I would probably find life difficult because of that, but "keep it up".

Solitude enables you to make contact with yourself

not to repeat like a parrot a few acquired formulas,

but to be the prophet of God within you

who speaks a unique language to each man.(person)

- Antonin Sertilonges

This is why I like to run or walk alone fairly regularly. While I am walking in the bush or jogging down the street I am getting in touch with my inner values. I can finish a walk or run physically stuffed, but inwardly fired up. I love too getting into a book by a good, original thinker. The author's thoughts and words are like a spring board to my own. I will often read madly then scribble madly as I assimilate and work out the implications of what I am reading. It is embarrassing sometimes. While I am walking in the bush I sometimes find myself speaking my thoughts out loud. I turn the corner and find a fellow walker coming the other way looking at me strangely. That happened on Saturday. I was walking, thinking and stewing and talking to myself, and this delightful Maori lady appeared on the other side of a patch of mud. She at first looked horrified, I guess wondering what sort of person she had encountered. After a brief chat she relaxed, but probably still walked on wondering. People keep telling me that I need to be talking to people to get the support I need for my work. While I appreciate the support of people and friends, to be honest I find the best support comes when I have time to talk to and listen to myself. (or is it the God within?) Solitude empowers.

Photo: Silverpeaks bush path. Reminded me of a song. I love Pete Seegar singing... he loves his music and is so natural and genuine as a person. What you see is what you get.

The week that was.

I have had a very busy week with lots of "interesting" stuff. On Monday I learned of Terry's suicide. That feeling of sadness coloured all of the week. I had activities on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday evenings. I had a radio service to record on Thursday, my normal Sunday service and service at an elderly persons' rest home. I had extra meetings slotted into my week as well as normal stuff. I also ended up chairing the night shelter meeting.... the normal chairman was ill.

Terry's friends

During the week I met some of Terry's friends, those from the Waitati community and others. He had been given support and lots of offers of assistance in the last week of his life. Again I ask "Why? Why did you do it Terry?" I was moved by the friendships he had, but also sad that it wasn't enough. One of the special moments was when Terry's mum came up to me after the funeral thanking me for my part in the funeral and my involvement with Terry. I was touched with her openness and her dignity.

Conversation Group

We have a "Conversation Group" and on Wednesday night I felt a certain freedom and companionship as we talked about "God". I could be a heretic and no one minded.

My latest chaplaincy

I was really pleased at my latest chaplaincy. People are greeting me warmly. They are starting to poke fun at me. Some chatted to me about just "stuff". I felt "at home". I will walk there with a much more positive feel. "It" is happening, I am getting "in" slowly.

Drop in Centre

We took a few of our drop in members out to Terry's funeral. (Waitati is about 17 K north of Dunedin.) When we opened the drop-in centre on Friday night we welcomed people and had to tell some about Terry. We passed around a card for Terry's family that people signed. There was a quiet warmth toward each other. It felt like we were a family together recognising that we were precious to one another. It was special.

A nice walk

On Saturday morning I walked the hour into the old Green Hut site in the Silver Peaks, turned into the bush and found the hut that Terry had built. I sat and had lunch there and walked out. The sun was shining. I loved the birdsong, the bush and the expansive views of rugged country side when there were clearings. On one of the frame timbers in the hut one boy named Zac, who said he was ten years old had written some things in pencil. In spite of some terrible spelling, he had one nice sentence. "This world is awesome!" I hope Zac still feels this way, because it is true.

Lucky man

As I look back on this week's activities, its conversations, friendships and challenges I decided that I am a lucky man. I have such variety, I have friendship and I have challenges enough to keep me going.

Photos:

• The castle that Terry built. ("Egmont Castle") Terry was known locally as the "Earl of Egmont."
• The country side I was walking through on Saturday.
• My morning tea at Terry's hut. (When I got home my wife informed me it was my lunch!)

My friend Terry...

Today we celebrated Terry's wild, weird, free, and troubled life. A very different funeral with the Waitati Malitia escorting him. ( weird bunch of fun "soldiers") Lots of stories told. Thought you might like to see a photo of him and the castle he built. He's still a "stupid bugger" for making the choice he did. Lots of people loved him... the community hall was full.

Professional "distance"... yeah right.

In my training to be a minister they talked about boundaries. One man told us not to make friends in the congregation. That there is a certain "professional distance" to be maintained. When I did some social work training such messages were repeated. As I have worked in chaplaincy various trainers and bosses have repeated this "boundary" message. One boss I had wanted to move me from being chaplain at the fire stations after 5 years because, in his view, I was now too "friendly" with the firefighters. His ideas were quickly squashed when he talked with the fire chief and union rep.

I recognise that there are boundaries. There are somethings that I don't encourage. I have often been invited to go running or training regularly with the firefighters, but I have steered clear of that. I have not assumed that I could front up uninvited at work's social functions at the chaplaincy places. But I think it is impossible and indeed not desirable to have no real personal investment in the people that you minister to. Perhaps I feel too much.

Today I have not been able to concentrate as well as I should because of my feeling of attachment to Terry who committed suicide. I was doing OK until the night shelter coordinator rang up and began to tell me that Terry had been difficult for the supervisor to handle and the tone of her voice suggested she was critical of my decision to send him there on Friday week ago. I listened for a while as she made her allegations, but then interrupted and said quietly, in a deliberately measured tone, but with a degree of bitterness, "Well you don't need to worry. He will not annoy you guys anymore. Terry shot himself on Saturday!" It was then that I realised how much I was hurting. Terry was my friend. I am sure he was agitated, but she was talking about this man who will no longer be there on Friday nights. There will be no more big loving grin. No more excited stories about his projects. No more tales of tramping trips, of rock walls built and fights with bureaucracy. No more pool games with his sly shots. No more table tennis matches and no sense of having Terry at the drop-in as one more person watching my back. This lady was treating him as a "case" and a bad boy "case" at that. "Well bugger you!" I was saying under my breath.

I took hold of myself and when she got herself together we talked in sane sensible, non-aggressive terms about the report that was written. We discussed the meeting tomorrow night when it will be talked about and I was a good, rational, "wise" Night Shelter Trust Board member. But after I hung up I just felt sooo emotionally wrung out. I did not want to go and do chaplaincy. I just wanted to not be where I had to put myself "out there".

I grieve at the death of Church members. I, hopefully take their funeral in a professional way, but I grieve. I ache for people going through tough times as if they were my children, or brothers and sisters. I don't know about "professional distance" and "boundaries" but that's who I am and that's the way I do my job.

Then I see Jesus crying over the city of Jerusalem. "Now Jesus, if you're going to be professional about being a messiah you better watch your boundaries!" After that phone call I just wanted to go home.... but I didn't.... May be that discipline is being professional.

I grieve for Terry for two reasons. I have known him for something like 15 years, I really liked the guy, we had a lot of common interests so I will miss him as a person. But secondly I grieve because I know that for every troubled Terry who actually commits suicide, there are many others who in their lifestyle, their lack of hope and their sense of isolation slowly kill themselves or live a living death. e.g. There is Dave, who I have known for around 20 years, now nearly bedridden and definitely on the way "out" without really having lived. Once a talented young musician and singer he has smoked, boozed and drugged his way into oblivion. When I grieve for Terry, I feel the pain and loss of his still living mates. (Though Terry was a shining light amongst them)

Right or wrong I felt emotionally drained today and was a bit "inefficient".

I MUST blog...

I am sorry my blog is a bit cathartic... but that's the way it is. There's a few things I want to get off my chest.

Ian Harris where are you?

Ian Harris is a journalist/commentator who writes regularly in the local paper. I am not sure where he lives, I suspect it is locally. Anyway on Friday he wrote about "progressive Christianity" and described a style of Church that we are seeking to establish. He says of this that "the focus is on building communities bearing ... 'the dangerous memory of Jesus', and exploring what that means for living today". There are aspects about "progressive Christianity" that pertain to the way we understand "belief", the way we see the scriptures, about inclusiveness and a certain style of Church language etc. Anyway the thing that annoyed me is that he wrote.... ".. so far just five congregations (in NZ) identify themselves as progressive." He listed them off. That annoys me. I wanted to yell... "Hey Ian, I would class ourselves as fitting that description!" (even more so than one he listed) I also know of some renegade Baptist and Methodist ministers and congregations who would fit the description. And what about churches which are in transition? It takes heaps of blood sweat and tears to bring change in congregations and I felt Ian Harris did not have the right to make such a claim. The thing is that I already wrote a letter to the editor about another matter last week and did not want to sound off again this week. I thought too that it was something that was better done in private. I have been looking for some contact address for Ian Harris to respond to him in person, but cannot find it. Google let me down. I will keep looking.

"Bloody Terry! ... bloody mental health system!"

Friday week ago Terry came to our drop-in centre as he normally did every Friday night. I have known Terry for about 15 years. I have played hours of pool and table tennis with him. I have swum with him and spent hours in conversation with him. Terry loved to go tramping. He loved building things with rocks and was good at it. He built his own house, a mini rock castle with a tower. He had a massive conservatory on his castle in which he had a very productive vege garden. He sometimes tended to be paranoid about authorities, often bucked the system but was generally fairly rational. Well this Friday night when I asked him how he was he broke down and cried. He had had enough. He suggested suicide, and I didn't want him to go home to his castle alone that night. I booked him into the night shelter where I knew someone was supervising. Well it turned out the supervisor felt he was too irrational, called the police and psych services and Terry was carted off to the hospital. They checked him out and Terry went home. The next morning I made contact with him, and during last week he touched base with us several times through Space2B. He was staying with friends for a few nights then spent a night in a back packer. He had been to the doctor and had another appointment booked for today. I thought his ideas of suicide were behind him. Today I sadly learned that Terry had shot himself on Saturday morning! The last thing he said to me as he walked out the door of Space2B on Friday was, "Thank you for the support Dave. It means a lot." Obviously my support was not enough. I am sad. I am angry. Angry at Terry for making the choice he did. Angry at myself... maybe there was more I could have done. Angry at our mental health system, health system and how often people don't get the support they need. Ultimately it was Terry's choice and he had his various struggles.

I recall in the early days of our drop-in centre there was a stand off between two guys, one of whom was fortified with some sort of drugs... in a bit of a stupor. The drugged up one grabbed a chair by its back and was going to smash it over the other. I stepped between them and was expecting to wear the chair. It never came. Terry who was sitting behind, calmly swung back on his seat and as the chair moved toward me, he reached up and grabbed the leg of it. It gave me the opportunity to calm things down and talk things out. Terry just winked at me and went on with his conversation.

We operate our drop-in on the smell of an oily rag, and many of our pool cues came from the store out at the rubbish tip. Terry, a good pool player, was frustrated with the standard of cues and purchased himself a new cue, but also bought one for the drop-in centre. His was stored in the cupboard along with the one he donated.

I will miss Terry. He was often very passionate about his projects and his adventures. He would race up to me and tell me about his latest adventure. My wife and I were hosted for afternoon tea at his rock castle once. He proudly showed us around and discussed the building issues with me and how he went about things. (his garden wall is made up of fridges cemented together like building bricks) He took us up to the tower, through his bedroom area. The rock, spiral stair case leading up to his bedroom is fairly narrow. He said with a cheeky grin, "I am going to get me a lady, put her up there in the bedroom, then feed her up so she can't fit back down." .. and of course gave me a wink. On Friday as I open the drop-in and let our guests in, greeting each as they come through the door, I will miss Terry's smile, nod and "Gidday Dave!" Bugger!

Philosophy of life.

As it happens my bed time reading for the last couple of weeks has been a book called "Suicide: The forever decision." by Dr. Paul G. Quinnett. It is a printed off E-book. In the very last chapter Dr Quinnett challenges his readers (people considering suicide) to think about a philosophy of life. This, he said was a "spiritual" or "existential" exercise, requiring us to take time to think deeply about life. He said that such an exercise will be like "a flywheel" and give us hope and momentum in the difficult times of life. I think he is right. I think such an exercise would help deal to a lot of the problems we face in our society. People drinking too much, people drifting into bad lifestyles, etc. etc.

South Australian Mother of the Year...

My friend Ian's widow, Curly Corlett in South Australia, won the Mother of the Year title in South Australia. It was great. I was skyping with her on Saturday. She told me how she came across three unemployed young people asking for money out side of a shop. She gave them some and as she walked away, decided to go back and challenge them. This 60 ish year old lady (I think) went up to them and asked about their employment situation. Then in love she said to them. "You can't just sit around doing nothing all your life. It's not good for anyone. Do something! Volunteer for something. Look for something constructive to do. Don't waste your life. Other wise you will get to be an old person like me and look back on your life and see nothing worthwhile for it. Wouldn't it be good to get to my age and be able to say 'Look what I have done!'? Do something worthwhile, whether or not you're getting paid for it!" (I am paraphrasing a bit) In her motherly way she is saying in effect what Dr Quinnett is saying. Have some reason to live!

I have been asked to take part in Terry's funeral on Friday... wish me luck.

Photo: A small hut in the bush that Terry and a friend built out of the left over rubbish from the old Green Hut in the Silver Peaks area. It is in the bush down the hill from the Green Hut site. I hope to tramp in there on Saturday as a way of remembering Terry.

Friendship's ending.

I have had cause to think about the friends I have had and the ending of friendships. As I have said before, I have few close friends, but I have a few ex-close-friends. I have not yet worked out if it is me or not. Maybe when people truly get to know me they decide its time to move on.

I pulled out a book from my library the other day. There is a beautiful inscription in it expressing admiration, friendship and best wishes. This was a gift to me during a close friendship I had that lasted quite a while. I would think that we would still have some similar values. There evolved a deep difference of opinion on something we were involved in and we parted ways. When we see each other we are polite, ask about each other's life and family etc, but that closeness, that relaxed "oneness" has gone. I have another book inscribed by a friend, whose life I was deeply involved in at one time, but now I do not know where he even lives. I have a regularly used pocket knife, a letter opener from Ephesus and other stuff given to me by a much travelled friend. We still relate politely, work together, but the old relaxed ease of relating is gone. The feeling of trust has gone and more often the differences we have emerge. Another "ex". May be it is me? I must be hard to get along with?

Some friendships can be long lasting, but somehow you realise there are different goals in life, different values and the felt need you have to relate regularly doesn't emerge and you eventually lose contact. At other times it may be that both you and they have changed. We all change. The changes mean that you have less in common than you once did and friendship dies. Sometimes you have been deeply hurt by comments or actions and that easy trust and openness you once had goes. You don't want to open yourself to being hurt again, so you naturally back off. Sometimes too it can be that once you get to know the person you realise you are different, and an initial friendship changes to a more distant friendship.

I remember an often married fire fighter receiving his Gold Star award, signifying 25 years of service to the brigade. He was making his speech and he said; "...and I thank my wife".... then he paused and looked around the room.... "all four of them." he said sincerely but with a grin. Even past or "ex" friends contribute to your life and you can be thankful for them.

You know you are old when...

My wife and I celebrated our 41st wedding anniversary on Monday. (I mentioned this at a fire station the other day and they retorted, "Most of us in this room are not that old!") We must be getting old because most often for anniversaries we have treated ourselves to a night or two away in a motel with a spa. This time it never seemed to be mentioned so never happened. Perhaps that in itself is a sign of old age? We had a good day at home anyway. In the evening we went out for dinner and then went to the movies. ("Blind Side" - I LOVE anything with Sandra Bullock in it!)

Our daughter had given Jean a gift card with $37 on it, the price of two tickets to the movies and two ice-creams. At the counter we ordered two tickets and two ice-creams and handed over the card. To our surprise the woman behind the counter handed it back saying that we still had $20 on it? My wife asked her, "Are you sure that's right? You did get two tickets didn't you?" The woman assured us it was, so we accepted the card and went our way. It was then that we realised that Monday was a special for seniors. In NZ that is considered over 65's. This girl, bless her, had looked at us and assumed we were an over 65 year old couple going to the movies on a Monday night because it is cheap then! How dare she see me as over 65!

Well there has to be some perks for looking old. We didn't go back and set the record straight and offer to pay the full price. We had questioned it already and the movie was about to start. Anyway $37 is way too much to charge for two people to go to a movie!

But I had to admit, even though I still feel like I should be forty something, I must look old! Life passes so quickly! If you are young remember that.