aspirational hot water

Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Matt 6:25


Picking up the least smelly item of clothing off the floor and checking for stains to choose what to wear is easy, for me having a wardrobe full of clothes would see me four hours later with piles of clothes and still no decision made. Does this mean I like being limited in my choice or that clothes don’t do it for me?

Changing banks, was a decision that needed to be made recently and I had no problem. There was less choice than a few years ago but nevertheless some decision making had to take place and interaction with bank officials brought the number of players down. 

Hot water, my dream is to have running hot water. To turn on a tap and hot water to come out just makes me smile. I love using the facilities in cafes and restaurants because I can wash my hands in warm water. In hotels I rush into the bathroom and run a bath. I love hot water and wish I had it. Recently though, when it almost became a reality, I worried about the money side of things and stopped the process. Making the decision to put off once again having hot water was easy on one level. No money spent so nothing can go wrong. No money spent on the house so can continue to berate the house. No people coming into my house, huge relief.

On the flip side, ructions in the house when others find out of my decision, cold water and an unfixed central heating system. Decisions are like that, there is a trade-off, when things are black and white.

There is one decision, that didn’t need great logical synapses, to decide to follow Jesus and no longer worry about anything. In him I find rest, I am challenged, I am loved.

unwitting triangles


If there was an observer with no interest in gaining anything from party A and part B, does triangulation still apply?

party A ≤ ≈ ≠ ≥ party B

depending on the subject matter

in God’s eyes:

party A = party B

there is a mediator in the relationship of party A with God and with party B with God. The mediator is Christ.

But what if party A and party B are not aware of God’s love and therefore base all relational interactions in terms of self.

Relations break down regularly because there is no sound foundation to the relationship and the use of projection in the disatisfied state is put on party C.

What if there are more relationships, A with D, A with E, A with F, all unsatisfactory, all projected in some way onto party C.

What happens to party C? curl up and die? Remove themselves? Find a different way?

What if party A is so powerful that the whole of the kingdom believes in their power, believes in the myth created so that only party C can see the man behind the wizard in oz.

What if party C tries to tell the people of the kingdom that party A is just a person, has no superhuman powers, is just human like the other parties?

If you were party B or D what would you do? Believe the usurper? Believe they are seeking the power for themselves? Or use said information to further their position in party A’s eyes?

My question though is none of these, my question is should party C hope? Not in the Christian sense of hope but in the human kind “I hope it is fine tomorrow”,

The concept of triangulation involves a mediator who is given information from one party that is intended to be delivered to another via another party. A triangulated child between two parents can exhibit the following acting out according to wikipedia:

Common examples of the ways triangulated children act out include: drug addiction, eating disorders, chronic shoplifting, vandalism, cutting (ritual and habitual superficial slicing of the epidermis), excessive piercing, tattooing or other forms of self-mutilation, violence, academic problems, truancy, or any combination of the above.

Not much I can add to this list except smiling extremely wryly

What if there are multiple triangles?


What if there are multiple triangles, with a pivotal force in one angle and the objective outsider in another?


This perfectly shows how the multiple triangles interact. Because all parties are familial members or friends of all/some/one of the parties then they are all connected in some way, not just party A, party C and one other. This image further shows the eternal nature of the relationships and that without changing the course of the way all the parties interact nothing will change.

This necklace has a weak point, it is based on a snake design, it is possible to remove one small piece and the whole thing will fall apart. So I propose that party C stops being an outsider either by removing themselves completely from the interactions or learning a way of not getting involved in a triangle situation:

For example, “You are telling me what B should do. Tell them not me” How scary is that!

airbrushing reality

the concept of airbrushing the bits of our lives we don’t want came to me in Dublin. The crowd of people crossing the quays and onto the footbridge had to navigate a young guy, sitting on his haunches clearly feeling the bitter Liffey wind with a disposable cup from Burger King in his hand. The crowd past him by, some of the more athletic actually stepped over him as if he didn’t exist.

Maybe he didn’t exist for them, for my son though, he existed, so much so that for the entire afternoon I was subjected to a soliliquy on the wastefulness of my life. How could I look at clothes that cost more than a week’s wages when he and people like him have no food, no shelter, no warmth. My son has a deep social responsibility engraved in his heart, he has watched the political dialogue with keen interest since the collapse of the property market and the imploding of the banking system. He sees through the rhetoric of the politicians, questioning why they blame each other for the mess, instead of getting out the poop-a-scoop and dealing with it.

Did the crowd airbrush this guy out of the scene? Was I also culpable because I didn’t stop. Sean stopped at every person asking for money that day and said hello, he didn’t offer them money, he offered conversation, he offered a piece of himself.

I look at the turbulent youth, hormones raging, where everything is my fault (what’s new) and see the mature human almost ready to come out. He studies morning and night, determined to get the result he desires in his exams, he has a unerring will, which up to now has been used for holding a grudge, for sulking, moaning and groaning, that is now being put to use. He is becoming the man he wants to be, he is becoming a man that will not sit by and let life happen around him. He is about to take the plunge into a new reality, a Sean that ignores disability, takes responsibility for his actions, loves life.

He will never airbrush anyone out of the scene that is his life. He welcomes each day, the bullies who for years tortured him. He has a huge base of forgiveness for those who have hurt him. Even yesterday talking about a grandparent that didn’t want him, he showed immense empathy whilst knowing the truth in the statement, “Aaron’s grandfather”. I love this child-man, he drives me absolutely bananas, we argue like there is no tomorrow, we hurl insults at each other, we hug, we debate issues of the day, we are diametrically opposed in the area of soccer and football and yet it is me he brings results and commentary. I love this man-child.

The truth, oh don’t we all love the truth, for many years I regretted not airbrushing him out of my reality. The scene is my house, the place is the corridor, one minute earlier Sean had been given two carrot batons and he happiliy sailed off munching his booty. He was three years old. Running back to me giving the international signal (how did he know it?) for choking. I battered his back, I turned him upside down to no avail. The blood vessels on his face burst, he almost died, I almost let him, I almost didn’t intervene. But I did, I swept the pieces of carrots from the back of his mouth and he breathed, but I almost didn’t. The reasoning for the almost – the life he would have to endure, the nightmare that was my life since he was born, probably because it was raining, I like to believe my reasoning was altruistic rather than selfish but can I ever be sure?

Each tantrum, each body blow, each intransigent stubborn commitment, I regretted the almost, until I saw manifestation of a star on his skin, a vibrant rainbow star that signified something a lot darker than a rainbow. I became his champion then. He had endured more than his disability, stoically without revenge and our relationship began a new journey.

To now, to my son-child-man who like me has many faults but his love of life and love of people and his love of the Lord shines out shrinking the negatives, I love him

dirty little secret


My wife is one of those people that has to live in a spotless environment, I think it is why we don’t have kids yet but that’s a whole other story. I am not naturally neat, I like to leave my clothes on the floor overnight and decide what can be worn again in the morning. The last time my clothes lay in a heap overnight was on the day before we married.
Of course we can’t know everything about our spouses before we marry, even if we have lived over the brush for a while. Something changes in the exchange of rings, everything we have held in check whilst puffing up our feathers to catch our mate is let out like a long silent fart.
So my wife has borderline obsessive compulsive disorder, a neat freak, everything having a place and it being kept in that place. I can work around her, because she is the love of my life. I know us macho males aren’t supposed to admit it, but when she arrived into my circle of friends, I had to have her. As a result I put away the forks exactly as she likes them placed in the green baize lined drawers, I pick up my clothes at night and place them all in the hamper regardless of soiling because she likes the smell of of my cologne through pristinely pressed linen shirts and I always take off and put away my outdoor shoes before entering the apartment just because.
In all of this seemingly one-sided compromise, I have a dirty little secret. Something that if she knew I can only assume we would part ways, so I am very careful. Once a month I lock myself into the bathroom, remove the third tile on the far wall, reach in and take out my matchboxes. I spread out the contents on the floor and just smile, then I add ten more to my collection. After ten to fifteen minutes of admiring my toenail hoard I collect them up into their boxes in a totally random and ramshackle manner adding to the pleasure. I don’t go as far as to speak to them but I do smile one last time thinking of all the years I have been collecting them, smug about the secret and remembering the love I have for Selena, my wife that makes living in this clinical atmosphere bearable.

Love is God and God is Love


My friend, who knows I am writing this about her, is a total wack job. I love her to bits, her wackiness is good for me. She rang me at dawn today to tell me about the beautiful sunrise and ask me to mind the kids for an hour this morning. In my state of grogginess, got up and ran outside to see this beautiful sunrise only to get soaked. In my heart I know it was a breathtaking sunrise, but in my townland it was thick dark grey clouds that were bursting forth like a crescendo.

Later I went to look after Shaq and Benji ‘for an hour’, Shona is not a good time keeper and I know she rushes to get everything done but gets caught up in other peoples’ lives so I settled myself down to playing with the boys. We played drumming on the pots and pans, colouring and building towers of bricks. There was plenty of giggling, a good time was had.

Shona is a new-age hippie, she has been around these parts for almost a year, probably moving on in the summer. She worships all kinds of things, the sun, the moon, herself, Gaia and considers herself a white witch. I think she is the sweetest most giving person I have met in a long time and love spending time with her. We touch on the subject of God, when I say touch, we talk for hours and because God is central to my life he comes up a lot.

Shona loves, that is her thing, but she has had “stuff happen” in her life, as a child and as a young woman that has coloured her perception of religion and religious folk. Every now and then we laugh at the two of us being friends, being centrally so different.

And then today happened, Shona whirled through the door three hours later and said “LOVE IS GOD AND GOD IS LOVE!” She went onto tell me that she’d gone to a beauty salon for some waxing and on the counter was a calendar. The usual kind, for these type of places, a motivational thing, something to lift the spirits while you pay out exorbitant figures to look ‘perfect’. This was the quote for 24th April 2012, “Love is God and God is love”. Shona was filtering this in her mind and went into the room and lay down waiting for the technician. The usual music was piping through and suddenly in the lyrics of the song, she got it, she got Him. Hallelujah, praise the Lord. He is good.

Don’t give up
You still have us
Don’t give up
We don’t need much of anything
Don’t give up
’cause somewhere there’s a place
Where we belong
Rest your head
You worry too much
It’s going to be alright
When times get rough
You can fall back on us
Don’t give up
Please don’t give up


Thank you Lord, for friends, for the beginning of Shona’s journey with you.