'Finding Home in Solitude' ... Alex

This interview, where Alex talks of 'finding home in solitude', there at the end ... that's what I'm doing these days.

It's an interesting process, after years of having this constant dialogue in my head ... 'What does this person need from me?'  

'How can I help them?'  there is this new process where I'm learning to consider what I want.

2 husbands ... and I lived 2 lives that were shaped, so completely, around their lives.

2 divorces ... and I lost everything, twice, including countries.

I am living in interesting times.  My book is begun, the professional photography has been put to bed for the moment.  

And perhaps ... this interview, with Alex, will give you a sense of the solitude.  The gift, and the difficulty, of learning to be alone.

The Glorious Impermanence Of It All ...

May your journey through your own grief awaken you to levels of knowing, empathy, and peace that frees your own soul, opens you to love big, and allows you to embrace the beauty, the sweetness, and the unbearable, but glorious, impermanence of it all.

Seane Corn, extract from her article, Grief Transforms Us.

I didn't have too much to do with grief until my mother died, back in 1999.  And even then, it was as Seane wrote, describing a conversation she had with her father as he was dying: 'He held me once, not too long before that was physically impossible, and told me I would never again feel so ripped open. “Remember this feeling,” he told me, as I studied the new tumor on his shoulder that I could swear wasn’t there just hours before, “your grief will either consume you or set you free. It won’t feel this way right now because you’re in it,” he said, “but you will come through, you will heal, you will grow and you will be grateful.” I told him to go fuck himself and we laughed hard, until we cried, at the horror of it all and the beauty that we knew we would both one day come to understand. Me, as I struggled to let him go. Him, as he accepted he had no choice but to.

And I know it is true.  When I am 'in it', in whatever the 'loss' is ... I can do anything I have to do.  I can give my first ever public speech at my mother's funeral, and I can move countries, and take jobs I never imagined taking. 

Being in that state, as your known world falls apart ... it protects you for a while.

This morning, after reading Seane's post, I was compelled to share it on facebook.  It felt a little like cutting open a vein but it was important too ... because I am learning so much about grieving out here in the world, about myself and others grieving for things lost.

On facebook, I wrote: My first ever public speech was at my mother's funeral. It was incredibly difficult but an honour too. I was glad to be able to farewell her in that way.  However I don't think losing the people we love, to death, is the only thing that we grieve. The longer I spend out in the world, meeting others who have lost relationships, families, homes and future plans, to divorce and relationship break-ups, the more I see that there is a huge need to mourn that loss too.

This loss is the loss of losing the love of, or for, another.  It's the loss 'normality' ... of inhabiting a conventional, socially acceptable space in the world, of 'owning' a known place in a community.

Try not to turn your back on those who have lost marriages and relationships.  It's another kind of loss, and there is a degree of shame and/or humiliation that, perhaps, makes no sense... whether you stopped loving, or someone stopped loving you.

Be gentle.

Things I've Learned ...

I know of a good pub in Farnham, full of people who allow you that bar stool in the midst of their conversations and laughter.  And I found a walk I enjoyed while I was staying there.  I met Diana and Steve, and simply adored them. 

I've learned that I love thin bagels for breakfast, and that I Can live without my coffee machine.  In good news, for me, it seems I can sleep in any bed.  My back doesn't ache in mornings and I'm grateful for that.

I know where to buy the best slice of lemon & cream sponge roll in Southsea.  I found a coffee shop with good espresso con panna - for 'those'days.  I'm learning that I like to shop in Sainsburys because the staff there are unbelievably friendly.  I was introduced to the best fish & chips in the area.  And found a small space in Drift ... that bar that I like, down there in Portsmouth.

These days find me navigating the London Underground. I'm enjoying conversations with strangers.  And I almost understand that I'm living in London.  That one amuses me.  I've lived in, or visited, a few big cities, accidentally, never dreaming of going there. 

And I'm taking nothing forgranted.  I learned, in the first hour back in London, that you never ever cross against the lights because ... you might get run down.  It was only that a second car blocked the speeding car that would have hit me.

Oh, and in great news, I found that I have to pass by Carluccios almost everyday this week.  Today I discovered that their espresso is not only affordable, it's also superb.


Yesterday ... in Southsea, Portsmouth.

My desire to photograph all that I'm curious about is back.  Yesterday I wandered into the Drift Bar, here in Portsmouth, just needing to be around folk for a while but I ended up racing out for my camera. 

Simon, the handyman, was hanging an unusual set of lights.  Using ropes, pulleys, and fashioning a wire cage for the light bulb ... I wanted to hotograph them.

Unfortunately my packets (and packets) of AA batteries are back in London, waiting for me to return, and so I ended up grabbing my tripod and seeing what was possible.

Hopefully you get a sense of these rather extraordinary light fittings below.