Taking stock

I don't like to think of it as spirituality, because the word implies my personal mess of wires and abstract gadgets can be separated into discrete entities. I don't believe in a spirit distinct from my mind and body, and least not one that will survive them when they die. There is a part of me, yes, that wants deeper connection and meaning while I live. I continue to seek something to replace the religious experience. A source of balance.

In saying "I continue to seek," I don't mean that I haven't found anything. It is a journey. Any such pursuit becomes empty the moment it loses the element of quest and discovery. I am a pilgrim; this is one concept I've salvaged from my evangelical Christian years. The river as a metaphor for my life also relates to this.

What is my specific, personal truth? Well, nature is my source. I become unwell when I remove myself from it.

Colour, texture, light and music: I am unhappy without them.

Photography: it provides daily access to ecstasy and loss of self-consciousness.

Writing: it brings meaning to my life.

Solitude: without it, I burn up.

People: without them, I dry up.

In recent weeks, with so much positive energy propelling my creative activities, I have also received some insight as to why this is happening.

I have had a best friend for eight years: Sylvie. I have had a kind and gentle lover for five years: Danny. Pieces of the puzzle have fallen into place.

The one type of person dreadfully missing was some kind of colleague, collaborator, creative partner, someone consistently available to brainstorm with, and challenge me when I get off track. Over the past few months my writer friend, Sarah, has started to fit these shoes. She is not solely responsible for the increase in motivation and concentration I've felt, but was an essential gear falling into place.

Rarely does a day go by without me talking to one of these three people, in fact Sarah I talk to most days and see at least twice a week. And recently it occurred me: for the first time in my life, I am hardly ever bored and lonely. And I can see that when I get depressed, it often relates to missing one of the elements I've described here.

Life is never perfect, but at least I'm getting somewhere.