life – Page 9 – James Ballantyne

The tiring, futility of trying to be good.

When you have something to prove, you aren’t free
Edith Eger, The Choice (2017)

It is not necessary to satisfy other peoples expectations
Kishimi, Koga , The Courage to be disliked (2013)

This is hard stuff for me, so I thought I would write about it.

Most of my family, that is, both my lovely grandmothers, and more recently my Aunties, have commented on me being ‘such a good little boy’ when I was a child.

I can remember them doing this as a child, in defence of me, against my toxic mother.

My teachers said the same. In fact I remember astounding one teacher when I was 6 for wanting the spelling of a word that she thought I shouldn’t know. The word was blancmange. School reports aged 8 said that I was concientious. (not conceited) , and I didnt have google then to find out what this meant, so when I asked my parents what this word meant, there strangely wasn’t a response. I was told off for asking for a present for having a good school report.

What I didnt realise aged 8, was that this was about to be a pattern. Other people would see my gifts and general goodness, my mother would see either the opposite, de legitimise who I was or what they said.. or as ive said before..take it for herself.

But, I did learn this though… That being good (as long as I didnt ask for rewards for it) kept me out of trouble in those other places, even if I was seemingly always in trouble/danger in the home.

Nothing was good enough at home, it was impossible to win, and it was all game. But I did realise that by staying out trouble and invisible meant I was safer.

There was something else weird too. Because I wasn’t being seen. This is what I wanted, it was like this…

If only they could see what I did or who I was then they might be proud of me or love me.

But there was a complication to this.

I didnt want them anywhere near me – not publicly anyway, and so I hid or avoided achievements. I feigned disappointment when they said they couldn’t come to my duke of Edinburgh bronze award night, they were away I think and it was one of favourite events where I collected an award. Ever. So, its complicated, the desire to be seen to be good, mixed with the impending trauma of having them see it. Moments of achievement were best avoided. When I got school prizes aged 13, I didnt expect it, and I definitely didnt the next year.

But I was a good boy.

When I realised I had to be, and do this on my own – I set out at doing so.

And being a good boy, also meant and became, being a good christian boy too.

The two became synonymous, and God became intrinsically linked to the same parent figure, always watching, to be feared, temperamental, never seeing (except sin and failings). God gave me tasks to do, God was keeping a list of sins, God was storing up every thought for the last days – so I could rewatch it all. Also.. nothing I did that was actually good, this was just ‘God’ in me doing these things, because deep down im full of darkness, sin and shame, of course I am.

So I was pointlessly trying to be good. And it was exhausting.

Keeping up good appearances. At church, at school… adapting to the institutions.. believing this was what life was all about. Believing that if I was good I would be liked. Actually I noticed the opposite. The fun people had friends. The other ‘good’ kids congregated together, all the oldest child, maybe all sitting in the Christian union too.

Good christians, judging the fun others had, and being jealous that they all had friends.

A life of performance, pretence, self protection and compliance.

Imagine my surprise when I decided to a ‘christian’ gap year doing youth ministry and this caused probably 15 years of anger and disappointment in her.. because I didnt go to university at 18 (her plan and expectation) . Being good and even following a faith calling – didnt make a difference.

Because it wasn’t seen though, I then had to prove them wrong, and spent a good amount of my life doing so.

Being good didnt matter, and there was no possibility to me meeting their expectations. But I didnt know this at the time. Not until I read the pink book that saved my life, until I realised that I didn’t matter what I did.

Somewhere deep in my conscious is this notion of ‘being good’, that being good somehow would mean being accepted and liked – especially in the institutions – and that maybe this being liked and accepted in these places were compensation for what I didnt have at home.

Somewhere there’s still a belief that if im good, i’ll be liked and accepted.

But this isn’t true.

And if it is, it isn’t freedom. Its trying to meet other peoples expectations.

And thats something neither I or you can control.

And maybe there’s a difference, between trying to be good – to fit in – and letting that deep inner well of goodness shine through and be revealed. Goodness needn’t mean compliance. Goodness is for all humanity.

At the risk of being disliked.

I think I could also talk about how this applies to my writing, but thats for a different time.

Its not that I see now and think that ‘being good’ ruined my life – no not at all, I needed to be good to survive, to be and get to where I am today. Being good in school and doing well was an achievement of my own doing, as was graduating to Masters level a few years ago.

I just realised that it isn’t the most important thing.

Yet I can tell that its a continual wrestle for me, as it sits so close and deep within my own psyche – and maybe yours.

More to come on this… probably..

Thank you for reading.

Apr 21, 2023

Courage to Love

Most of you who read this will be my friends.

All of you will be human.

Some of you will have different beliefs than I do

All of you will be human

A number of you will defend things I cannot stand.

All of you will be human

Some of you can’t see what I can

All of you will be human

Some of you can see more than I can

All of you will be human.

Even if we dont share the same opinion, live the same dream, believe the same belief.

Artistic, Creative, Numerical, Destructive.

All of us are human.

All of us are on this one universal planet

All of us are connected.

All of part of this planet.

Life Force. Love source. Aware or unconscious.

You, me and all of us.

Accepting it or denying it – are part of the same.

The same flesh, blood and frailty.

The same mess and vulnerability.

That needs to go to pharmacies for aches and pains.

That cries at the most ridiculous.

That blames others, until realising that it is only ourselves that can change.

We are all one.

We are.

If…

We are all connected, all one, all part.

Then what makes sense?

What is this all for?

Why am I here?

To do what?

What part do I play..in this universal cosmic drama?

And what’s the best way of playing it with all of you..my fellow cosmic acting buddies?

What’s important? What do I need to find out? What am I to learn?

Its Love, isn’t it?

Just love, isn’t it?

From the cosmic, to the cosmetic

Love is more important than we think.

Love builds

Love tries

Love creates

Love sees

Love plants.

Love is.

Love doesn’t pretend, doesn’t play games, isn’t for performance, doesn’t protect the institution , or ideology.

Love. Is more than enough

If we trust it.

Im here to love, and so are you.

There’s nothing more meaningful than this.

Nothing more meaningful that I could write.

Nothing more meaningful that you could hear.

That if we’re scared of love – we have to be vulnerable to it

If we’ve dismissed it – its time to feel it

If we’ve managed without it – its wounded others along the way.

Love our neighbour as our self.

Frail, tender, vulnerable shoots of love.

Messy love, that gently accepts in the midst

Powerful love that challenges injustice

Desperate love that hopes

Compassionate love that dreams.

Courage to love.

Brave love.

Im here to love, as are you.

Not fight, battle, hold, buy, or Lord

But be human in our human self.

True self. Messy Self. Loving Self. Love self.

Gentle self. Kind self. Listening self.

Thats who I am, and so are you.

We are all Human.

Even if we dont want to admit it or enjoy it.

Its what we are, and we all are the same.

Bit part players in a cosmic drama, led by our hearts, souls and minds.

Can we try to love each other a bit better?

Can we heal so we stop wounding others?

Can we lose our rights to love our humanity?

Just a tiny bit better?

Love guides. Like the angel tugging at your heart. Trying to find a way in.

Listen to love. The universe will guide.

Fellow human, dont give up, dont give in, dont surrender to something invisible, that isn’t the very love pumping around your heart.

Love will find a way. Love, just is.

Apr 20, 2023

Realising…Its My Life

I thought to myself today

I am loving my life.

I am living my life.

Even on a wet sleety, snowy day in the North East of England.

Then I realised.

If I am living my life now…

Whose life was I living before?

When I lived according to what expectations were placed upon me… whose life was it then?

When I was in fear of making a mistake, a mess, or making someone else upset…. whose life was it then?

When I was worried about what other people would think of me… whose life was it then?

When I was trying to be good.. whose life was it then?

When I was trying to please God, or ‘worship him forever’ or for rewards in the ‘next life’ and not here now… whose life was it then?

When I was to stick to the rules… misbelieving I was going to get praise, medals or acknowledgement for doing so….whose life was it then?

I wasn’t living my life. I wasn’t living. I was just existing.

Existing for the sake of others, and their expectations, their demands, their unspoken rules.

Its taken me courage to see that I can live.

I can live and sparkle.

I have my own story.

I can be who I am, and that this is good enough.

Time to realise that

Its taken a long time for me to see, know and realise..and trust myself..

to know

that I can live my own life.

That I am. Who I am.

And I can be me.

And I am beautiful

Flawed but beautiful. A project on the make.

Its continuously time for me to be me.

Whole me, showing up into the world.

Happy, Free, and totally alive.

Mar 9, 2023

A Wet Muddy Walk

A simple walk.

Yet, it was so much more.

But it was just a walk.

Going for a walk, that meant something.

It meant pushing through with the motivation to ‘get out’ and walk, in the grey and wet.

For it was miserable.

I left my flat in a break of sunshine.

Arrived at the walk point with rain clouds, and horizontal cold rain.

And waited in the car, long enough to unsteam the windows, and at least wait for the rain to stop.

And it did.

For a tiny moment.

It was muddy. Wet. Cold and windy.

But I was walking.

Wrapped up warm, with camera and binoculars, with scarf, gloves and hat.

And thermal socks on with the heavy duty boots.

I was out. Walking.

Brave in the cold.

Madness maybe. But out.

And this is a blog about a walk.

Just an ordinary walk.

Did I mention, cold, wet and muddy?

A very ordinary grey, wet, cold, walk.

But a walk none the less.

Ordinary.

Ordinary courage and bravery.

Ordinary steps taken, one by one.

At a place ive been to many times.

Its not a mountain top experience to deal with trauma, or deal with the monsters. Just ask Harry Potter, no one wants that badge of honour.

Sometimes the path is wet, cold and muddy and you need to be protected from the elements.

One foot in front of the other, even in the wet muddy path.

Even when I’m writing, there could be a temptation to show off the best bits, or most important, to biggest challenge in my personal healing. But recovery is about the ordinary.

Its about the every day.

Its not always about the new place, the new discovery.

Though there are discoveries, and there are significant moments. And at the moment im loving John O Donohues Eternal Echoes. Its a warm hot chocolate for my soul.

But sometimes there’s just something significant in going for a walk. Its about expectations, or not having any. Its about making a positive choice to do something, even if the path feels wet and muddy, but its being done. A positive choice doesn’t mean the sun is going to immediately shine, there’s a lot of mud, fog and cloud to wade through. But at least im walking. Started putting one feet in front of the other. the gritty ordinary of healing from abuse, is not pretty.

There are beautiful moments of sunshine though.

When the gaps open up.

But often these are surprises. Moments when the universe makes its voice known. And when I’m ready to see them.

Like on that walk.

The sun did come out, and I noticed two deer resting in the sunshine.

When the Roe deer sat down and rested in the glimpse of the evening sunshine, sat as she was on the wet grass, it was a perfect still wonderful moment. I watched, breathed, and used my camera (quietly) and enjoyed it, present in the moment.

A universe gift.

Sometimes the paths are made by those who walk. Sometimes the universe conspires to help the dreamer. Sometimes its just about putting one foot forward, in front of the other, even despite better judgement, but doing so from brokenness, from vulnerability, into a cloud of fog, with the gritty hope that there is another side beyond it.

Ill tell you something else.

I was beginning to sense boredom. Boredom being one slight step to the left from contentment. Contentment is a lovely feeling, its as if everything is early spring. What boredom felt like was the peace of contentment, but without the colour of the daffodils.

I guess when 40 years of my life have existed with a background noise of toxic drama, then the years since of processing and recovering from this… peace can feel like boredom when there’s no drama going on.

But something I realised, is that I have needed coping activities in the last 4-5 years. Maybe I dont need these as much, and maybe I’ts time to have more fun and creativity, to have more energy to give, because im in a different place. As I walked yesterday, I realised that I could be grateful for the feeling of boredom, and that this is an indication of where I am, who I am and the journey I have been on. Maybe instead of feeling frustrated by the grey cloudy days, its time to walk through them.

Sometimes the grey makes for interesting photos.. but this isn’t one of them.

Its an ordinary path, just outside darlington with the sunset reflecting on the grey wet tarmac.

It was just a walk.

But it was so much more.

It was time to see. Time to make choices. Time to receive.

Time to sense and feel. Time to be grateful. Time to notice.

Time for me.

Mar 2, 2023

A blog on 957,547 words.

I just did a weird thing.

I just added up all the total number of words I have written in blog form, and published since I started writing blogs in 2012.

No I didn’t do that thing. I didn’t open up every one of those 800+ blogs since 2012 and count all the words, who do you think I am? I’m not that weird, truly I’m not.

I just added up the totals that WordPress records.

Since 2012, there have been 957,547 words.

Well, actually, now thats 957,547 + 97 words, +1 for ‘words’ and + 3 for ‘words’ and and, and now another 7 + more for these too. (4)

957,547+1+3+7+4= 957,562.

I was hoping that when I started out this voyage of numerical discovery it would be a really significant number. Like a million. But it isn’t. And trust me, you probably dont want me rambling for another 957,562+37 =957,599 – 1000000=42401 words.

Its just a number 957,599 or it was 957,547 when I started this.

Thats a lot of words though isn’t it.

And thats not including the blogs that were too passive aggressive to ever publish (especially over on the youth work one) , or the ones I felt were way too vulnerable here, or actually ones I didn’t feel comfortable with, they stay in the drafts. So it may well be a million.

It’s not quite a million words. 11 years. Around 90,000 words per year.

It’s weird when I think about it.

Especially as I’m comparing it to other ‘art’ forms, this writing thing.

In the same time as writing these blogs, I have also helped to write a book, and one Youth work article, I also completed a Masters study and recently a level 2 in Counselling skills. I have done A LOT of writing.

I definitely didn’t start out when I wrote my first blog, on blogspot on the subject of cycling and spirituality, that I would end up here. 11 years later. I had no idea. It just sort of happened that way.

I’d like to say that writing is enjoyable. Actually, it is.

What I’ve also found is that writing helps me get things out, sometimes there’s a build up of information, thoughts and questions or ideas in my head and so it has helped me to write them out. Thats why there’s quite a few drafts, and quite a few that won’t see the light of day, my head might not always be the healthiest of places. Sometimes for me there’s a build up, like the cork in the bottle and I have to just start writing.

Believe it or not, there have been other times when I hadn’t written for weeks or months. Yes, actually that is the case. I slowed down big time when my personal life, and also my professional life has shifted somewhat.

The other thing I’ve noticed is that my writing has often followed my reading. In the same 11 years, I think I have read, at least 500 books. For most of the first 8 years these were all Youthwork, Theology, Community practice or Sociology related.. or Theodrama.. who could forget the Theodrama years… the books would inspire, as would the conversations I would have each day, with youth workers, lecturers, colleagues.

But now the books I have read have changed, I think I have only read 3 youthwork or theology books in the last 3 years, most of the rest are in the menu above, as well as Fiction. Yes, actually reading fiction too. Including the whole of Harry Potter, and almost all of Paulo Coelho books.

Life Spills. That sometimes describes my writing now, a lot more. Im thinking, or doing something, or learning about it, and when I write its like the spillage of those things, spewed from my fingers out wards onto the screen. Words. Spilling.

I wish I could say that I’ts from the soul, or heart.

Sometimes it is. I would love it to be more soulful at times.

But I know that sometimes I’m writing when I’m annoyed, and im in a churn.. and that churn spills over.

Sometimes I discovered something I want to share it.

Sometimes I discover something, as I’m writing it.

When. I. Realise. That. These. words. Are. For. Me.

And I have to stop.

Slow Down.

Listen to myself.

Because these weren’t words for others, they were for me.

And some of those 957,000+ were for me.

Like the one I wrote about Self-Care tips for youth workers for Lent. Every years since that one I realise quite how hypocritical that one was. Look here’s me with 40 ideas for you.. when I’m in utterly no place to do any of them, with self confidence, self respect at rock bottom and having no self awareness at all. All those could have been for me, and there were others too.

I now feel like I’m doing a Q&A about my blogging when actually I’m making up my own questions. Thats just the thing, who does a blogging Q and A anyway? Should I do it when I have 1,000,000 words, or when ive bored 1,000 people? Its not like I have a subscriber count like on you tube.

Another question that I am never asked is about what makes up a good blog.

The answer is that I really dont know. What I am finding is that if a good blog is one that is based on how many people click the ‘like’ button at the bottom of this one, then I get more ‘likes’ when I have been personal, vulnerable, and shared about life trauma, healing, vulnerability and recovery, than I did with youthwork, theology or community work.

What do I do it for?

Sometimes for you, the invisible you, the person who reads this. You are a WordPress reader, a Facebook friend, or a friend of a friend, or someone else that googled it. Talking of google, thats one way of getting extra reads and views. Its that title thing again. My most viewed in one day blog had a great 3 days and none since, my most viewed in all time asks the question ‘What role do young people play in your church’ – because all over the world, thats a pressing question in many churches, and its all over the world, I have views from over 200 countries.

Sometimes these are for me too, as I said above.

I was watching a you tube video earlier on photography. In it the guy said about how it takes 10,000 hours to finely tune a hobby or craft, like.. photography or something else, gardening or dance or fishing. So that got me thinking about not only how many hours id spent behind a camera (probably around 200-300) but then about writing. How many hours have I spent blogging, and what is the creative output of that in relation to the work that goes into it. I would be lying if I said that I didnt check the likes, comments or views, but what definitely surpasses all of these is when someone lets me know that I have helped them, encouraged them or enabled them to see something, or do something differently, in their professional or personal life, or both.

So, for almost 1000 actual blogs, and almost 1,000,000 words – how do even know if this is something I am ‘good’ at. Its not like there’s a gallery of them, or I can recount the time i made something significant within it.

Its not the numbers after all.

And a good blog isn’t a perfect one. Sometimes its a real one. Maybe its also one where im being more human, than being preachy. Maybe its not one that is too hard to read, I get it, honestly I do. My pain might not make good reading, unless you know, or you want to know. I cant tell you how to write, because I often dont really think about what im writing most of the time, and thats why I cant think of a good way of ending this weirdly self-referential reflective piece, as it could go on and on and on.

So what advice would I give someone starting out in blog writing.

Only do it if you love writing. Like anything. Love it or stop it.

Thats all I can say.

oh…

and if you got to the end, Thank you.

You made it to 958861 words.

Feb 21, 2023

Permission to be Happy

Yesterday I wrote about learning the choice to be Happy.

What I realise today is that there’s something else.

Being Happy requires safety.

Its easy to be moany, negative, critical,

easy to be unhappy, easy to be numb

easy to hide feelings even.

When I was these things I was easy to manipulate.

Easy to sink into the swamp.

Easy to be abused.

Easy to stay in the fight for the others, and be unknowingly co-dependent with it.

Why would I want other people to be happy, if I had barely a concept of it.. maybe I wanted people to need me….

Happiness wasn’t a dream for me – I numbed emotions

Happiness wasn’t even a ‘concept’ I could conceive for myself. Not deep down.

Reality was that for 40 years I’d lived with people who didnt want me to be happy. (they weren’t Happy themselves…)

So why even chase it, easier to theorise or criticise the notion of it.

Being Happy for me, required safety.

Actually.

It required permission.

Specifically, I needed to hear and accept the possibility that I could actually be happy.

It was one of my friends who said to me; ‘James, When are you going to be Happy?’ but not in that critical way, more in a ‘James – when are you going to consider that you could be happy and that being happy is ok and safe to be‘ kind of way.

James…. Its ok… you can be Happy….

I needed permission, and safety, and the opening of a possibility that I could feel such things, or live in a way that was about happiness.

And my mind raged with it.

Because, my happiness was selfish – id been told, My needs weren’t important – id been told, other peoples happiness was more important than my own – id been told , happiness is for an ‘eternal life’ – id been told, happiness was shallow – id been told…. all the messages..and others besides.

I could easily overthink being happy and drag myself into that thinking space.

So I needed permission to be Happy.

Safe, brave, permission.

Permission to begin the process of searching, seeking and feeling Happy.

Even from in the midst of controlling relationships that had another few years to be dealt with. Not before. But in the midst.

It wasn’t that ‘when id sorted everything id be happy’ – because that was a lie. It was that in the beginning of being happy, or that the potential removal of unhappiness was possible even at that point. It was on the table.

Choosing to be… happy…in the midst of abuse and oppression is likely to challenge…. as the oppressor is losing control. Dancing in the metaphorical fucking rain.

Even beginning to realise that happiness was possible, and having the courage and safety to permit myself to it, invoked a glimpse of lightness, of happiness in itself. I stepped a tiny bit, another tiny bit, out of the leadened swamp.

So as I shared my learning yesterday, and awareness of the choice of my emotional awareness, one small step at a time, I realised that my awakening to happiness personally was about permission giving, about possibility, and about safety. I had received in so many ways the kindness of the universe through a breakdown and rebuild, yet that rebuild would not be full until I could see the lights above and know and feel that these could be true for me too.

Today, 4 years on I can give myself permission to be happy. What I needed the first time was the safe permission from others.

I can be happy, and so can you.

It is possible and permissible Now.

It might take courage….

Feb 2, 2023

Learning the Choice to be Happy

Tell me… what are 5 things that caused you to feel happy today?

5 things?

You’re joking aren’t you. 5 actual things. 5 moments where I wasn’t stressed, tired, weary, feeling like im in survival mode, drained, exhausted, pressured, stressed, thinking, over thinking, beyond overthinking to the point of being somewhere else….

Happy. Really?

5 things?

Yes.

5 things.

Can be as utterly small as you like, can be as tiny or insignificant. it doest matter, all that matters was in that moment it caused you to feel happy.

Yes, even that bumble bee that flew past you, the rainbow appearing behind the clouds, the way your dog looked at you, it just made you happy. For a split second.

5 things.

I didnt realise it was possible either.

I didnt realise Happy was actually something.

Duty – yes.

Obedience – Yes

Doing the right thing – Yes

Surviving – Yes

But Happy? Really?

Happy.. oh no, that’s not for me.

And you know what… when I didnt realise happiness was for me, I couldn’t give the opportunity for happiness for other people – without being critical, without feeling jealous, without being able to enjoy it, for others. I say these things about me, because I also wonder whether this might be more than just me too.

Let me ask you a different question.

What about this… What if I told you that happiness was a choice?

A choice you can make now?

What if you could have the power to choose to be happy?

What if this was a powerful choice, yes a choice, that you could make?

Because, being miserable, playing the victim and projecting blame on others is equally a choice too. But lets focus on Happy.

When asked on 31st January each year something that makes us happy, it might well be the relief that its the end of January.

But at the start of January, dont we say ‘Happy new year’ – Happy..may this year be full of happiness for you. It doesn’t take long for Happy new year to turn into the drudge of January. Happy seems to have disappeared from view. A long time ago.

But 30th January, 4th February and every day in July can be happy too… cant it?

What would it take? Madness? Courage? Determination?

What might we notice when we make this choice?

One thing I noticed, is that when I tried to make an active choice to be happy….

I got a lot of opportunities to practice this.

For instance, the very day I bought this book

Which was in a bookstore, in San Diego Airport on 4th January, as I left my soul mate Christelle and I headed back to the UK.. in a specially curated Happy section for the new year

It was also the very moment that as I paid for the book and left the bookstore, that I realised that my already cancelled once, now delayed flight was delayed even further. Literally on the board as I left the bookstore. So, all the feelings about leaving Christelle, and now delays.

Immediate practice to choose my response.

This delayed flight, led to another cancelled flight, led to overnight in Seattle, another day of travelling, and eventually back to the UK and my flat quite a few hours later. Circumstances giving me choices.

What did the longer journey give me the opportunity to do – practice happiness…and to read about it. The universe is like that, gives us gifts in which to practice.

There’s many things I began to notice after the day I decided to intentionally focus on my own happiness. Another is that it is very easy to forget. Hence why its taken 31 days to write this.

Yup, the road of good intentions is littered with distractions, as well as challenging situations.

Ive needed reminders. So..

A few days per week so far this year, because I haven’t remembered every day, and I did buy myself a note book, that I haven’t filled in yet either… Ive asked Christelle the 5 happy things question, and she’s asked me it back.

It’s almost like retraining my own mind, soul and spirit to notice the happy moments, the happy moments occurring in the now and everyday.

I can hear the resistance. But what if I surrendered to this? If happiness is not now..when might it be…really?

I was one who was a critic of those who said that being happy was possible or real or a purpose in life, I get it.

But what spills out of us when we’re not happy? Who is this good for? Just our ego and anything or anyone else?

What if… this:

I believe the very purpose of our life is to seek happiness. That is clear. Whether one believes in religion or not, whether one believes in this religion or that religion, we are all seeking something better in life. So I think, the very moment of our life is towards happiness…..
Dalai Lama, 1999

So… about those 5 things..? (why not write them in the comments below)

Give it a go. Seek Happiness. Open up yourself to its possibility

Happiness, deep inner happiness is possible.

Its closer than we think, actually its changing how we think.

Happy New February.

Happy you.

Happy me too.

References

The Art of Happiness – Dalai Lama and H Cutler 1999

The Courage to be Happy – Kishimi, Koga 2016

The Power of Now – Eckhart Tolle – 1999

Jan 31, 2023

Could my Soul have an Ancestory?

I know my Name.

I know where my name comes from.

Actually finding out a little more of my family history in the last 4 years has helped me to join the dots, reconnect and give me a sense of something.

It stared with googling my name.

I’m now on a bit of a treasure hunt. To find evidence of past Ballantynes, and also artefacts of both RM Ballantyne and the published works of James Ballantyne (based in Edinburgh from the 1700’s).

Some of this I want to know about, some will be a treasure and surprise when I find it.

I have a physical ancestry. A story.

But – what if my soul has an ancestors too?

My body and mind aren’t going to last forever, but my soul might?

And if so – might it have been somewhere else before?

and further still …. might the soul I have now, have been someone else’s one time before and was there a process for it to choose my body, my life and my experiences…

and if so…for what purpose?

Have you ever thought this?

I don’t think I mean reincarnation, but maybe soul ancestry, what’s the history of my soul, and curiously was it reluctant, happy or determined to exist in my experience now, for the time I am hosting it?

Was my Soul happy before and why my experiences?

and might there be a point when my embodied soul considers itself complete? or will it accumulate experiences, feelings and character for all eternity – if that’s even what it is doing?

Or will it become something different, like non human. Animal even? Is that what my soul might become next? Was it non human before? might this explain my affinity with nature – but then might this explain all of our affinity with the natural world?

Then, thinking Shakespeare… If all the world is a stage… what’s the role of the soul? Might Jung be right to consider the God archetype part of our humanity to exist – and this might be the soul- but what stages, performance, directions, scenes has my soul played before? Or has it been the same one, and its just the actor, the body that’s changed.

And, when there’s different performances of the soul – what happens in the gap? The Soul interval? From one person to another – and in those moments where might the soul rest, or wait, or choose?

Then again… Would I want to know? Would I want to know the full list of other people, objects, animals, trees even – that it has inhabited since it was created.. and when was that – what would I do with that list , my soul ancestry? Would it help me to explain things now? Like my genetic make up, from 10 generations of Ballantyne for example.

Continuing that thought. When was my soul created? Or was it always, well just always there. When did it come from?

Isn’t that it all along. Is the question not about how the world was created, but how the souls did?

Might this be God, divine or source all along? A lake of souls from which emanated souls like rivers into the flow of human existence?

Is my soul in my today, in January 2023, right now for a purpose?

And if so…what is it?

So so many questions, maybe the start of this was to recognise having a soul in the first place, as well as wanting to have some understanding of my familial past.

Like discovering Ballantynes, maybe my souls journey will take me on a similar treasure hunt.

Jan 30, 2023

Don’t be that human….

Isn’t it interesting when the universe gives you learning parallels?

What I mean is, those moments when you see something in one specific time, and it relates to something else.

Its as if the universe has something for me.

Either that or the algorithms of the internet really are mind and emotion readers. Oh dear.

Anyway.

If you read my recent piece you will know that a skill that I have been learning in the beginning of 2023 has been photography.

I have managed to start a small catalogue of stock photography here

James Ballantyne Stock Photos

They reject quite a few, so I’m just pleased to have over 20 on there, and its honing what I take photos of. I know I’m not going to be a millionaire through photography but its fun, well, most of the time it is.

To aid me in my learning in this month ive started watching a number of photography you tube channels. Honestly the free learning here is amazing. Now I know I feel a beginner at this, there’s so many helpful guidance out there.

One of the things I was beginning to notice was though was that most of the nature and landscape photographers had what looked like massive expensive cameras, and that they showed only the best photos on their videos. Some amazing ones though.

And I was just starting to feel a bit frustrated that I would not be able to take photos like them, without the right equipment.

Then I watched this video by James Popsys titled…

‘Dont be that photographer’

And I wondered what he was going to get at. He videos himself heading up to a bleak part of snowdonia and tried for 3 days to get photos of sunrises and sunsets over the mountains. His 2 days of failing included not having audio on for the video itself and weather that prevented even sight of the mountains themselves.

But what he said was interesting.

He said that as a photographer, the one comment that he got most ways from people who either complained about their lack of expensive cameras or equipment, or were condescending of his.

To which he replied by saying, ‘Dont be that photographer’

He said that the most important aspects of being a photographer , especially outdoors, landscape and nature and scenes, generally, are present already in a relatively cheap (less than £250) camera, and the rest is what is already present in the scene and in the eye of the photographer, as well as knowing their kit and craft.

He was saying, don’t be that photographer who is blaming equipment, the weather, conditions for their lack of good photography. Because all the components are there, but it takes work and effort, its a craft, a skill to learn, hone and develop.. its art.

So im thinking… yes he is talking to me, as a learning photographer.

But he’s also talking to me as a human too.

James, Dont be ‘that’ human – that blames someone else – when I could do something about it.

Dont be ‘that’ human – that forgets that the difficult and suffering are part of life

Dont be ‘that’ human that succumbs to getting frustrated when something doesnt happen easily, learning is a challenge..

Dont be ‘that’ human – that is gets impatient with comparing myself with others – learn to develop myself as I am.

Dont be ‘that’ human – that forgets that what I need to know is closer that I think, it is within

Dont be that human – that stops noticing the now, the quiet, the breath

Dont be ‘that’ human – that doesn’t see the beauty of what’s already in the universe, like light and dark, like texture, colour and change.

Dont be that human that is harsh on himself, self critical on the cloudy days when ‘nothing’ seems to happen – like today when actually, the drive included rainbows and the walk included kingfishers, but nothing on camera, just still moments of universe blessings.

James…. dont be ‘that’ human….

What about you… ?

So im learning photography. Maybe its giving me an opportunity to learn a lot more too.

Ill end this piece with a photo from when I was trying to put some learning into practice last weekend, this was me trying to play with light, perspective and settings on Seaton Carew Common beach. Sometimes its only sticks and random pieces of wood that make photos a bit more interesting.