Reverse Inspiration

Here is a painting I did,
to prove I can SO do
creative stuff, so there.

There's nothing quite as motivating as a little competition. Little did I know I was upping the stakes when I advised my children to get writing. I didn't really think they would. I fully expected them to take completely after me, and therefore to write one or two posts, and then forget all about it.

But no, my son and daughter have taken to the world of words with a flurry of clever, funny and highly interesting posts. Did they stop to think about how lazy this would make their mother look? No. With, clearly, a total lack of respect, and with (so far) boundless, thoughtless enthusiasm, they have poured words on to the page. And now the world can see what a lazy, good-for-nothing hypocrite their mother is. They really should have been more careful. *Sigh*.

It better be a damn good Mother's Day this year, kids, is all I'm sayin'.

As if that kind of pressure wasn't enough, my mother jumped into the fray and now I'm heading to her place for 2 weeks in June to edit a book. My book. Don't they all realise I could have happily carried on as the dilettante I clearly am, probably for the rest of my life? But no, now it's all "work, work, work", creative expression and stuff. How will I keep up with all my watching of TV shows, with this kind of family interference? What about the vast quantity of sleep I need? Ok, to be fair, we all know I will still be sleeping as much as is necessary, for their sakes', as much as for mine.

So yes, I have been "reverse inspired" by my ungrateful children and my whip-wielding mother. If I'd known all that encouragement and applause was going to mean I'd have to make to an effort... Well. You guessed it - I'd have done it anyway. And here's the post to prove it.

Hidden Gifts

One of the incredibly beautiful drawings
Jason Padgett made, of Hawking radiation,
and the way it emits from a black hole.

I've been reading about a man called Jason Padgett, who used to describe himself as "a jock and party guy" until he was savagely attacked in 2002. He was left with some serious injuries, especially to his head, and an understandable case of PTSD.

Yet, he says he wouldn't change what happened to him, because of this marvellous and strange thing... He woke up with enhanced mathematical abilities, and now sees the world in geometrical forms. He is an incredibly rare savant, having acquired his new abilities through trauma. It has changed his life so much, that he is now at varsity, studying number theory, this one-time jock who "never cracked a book". He found himself compelled to draw the most exquisite and detailed geometrical representations of mathematical relationships.

It got me thinking about what wonders are locked up in each of us, since the experts say there was nothing 'special' about his brain to start with. Apparently, given the right set of circumstances, any of us is likely to have this ability inside there somewhere. Really?! Good heavens. Not that I'd want to be beaten up outside a karaoke club in the hope that I'd become a savant, of course...

And yet, and yet - what happened to this guy, undeniably awful, gave him something he never had before, and with it, a new direction, and a new joy in his life. And isn't that a great picture of what tragedy, misfortune and obstacles so often bring about in our lives? We only see it later, and we may never see it if we focus on the bad thing that happened to us for too long.

The thing is - and I believe this with all my heart - there is always beauty to be found in tragedy, there is always a gift concealed in our suffering. For most of us, it's not quite as dramatic as Jason's story. For most of us, it won't be doctors who are amazed, it will be our families and friends when they see the change and growth that happens in us. Maybe you learn how to love more, maybe you learn how to be more accepting. Maybe you try something new, or reach out to someone else. Maybe you get more stroppy and confident. Who knows?

As long as you choose to find the gift, suffering is never the end of the story.

In honour of the 21 Libyan Martyrs

Nothing funny about this post, I'm afraid. I was challenged by a friend to "not look away", and actually watch the beheading of 21 Christians by Islamic State-affiliated men. I did so, after thinking long and hard about it. Yes, I wish I had never seen such terrible images. But oh, how my heart was moved. At first, I thought, "There are no words." Then I realised there were, and the words were bubbling up in me. Here they are...

Quietly, so quietly, they walk,

So still

Knowing that the end is here, on this beach

Quietly, they stand

Quietly, they fall to the sand,

These men

Calling on the Name as they prostrate themselves

in silence

Offering their necks, still praying as the knives

saw life away,

Quiet and brave beyond all understanding,

knowing there is another shore,

another beach,

where the Father will find them.