Gordon Brown really put his foot in it today - see here - being heard saying things he didn't expect anyone to hear and didn't want anyone to hear. He's terribly apologetic, of course. Because he got caught.
And that's the thing that bugs me. Not because I desire intimate knowledge of everything that is said behind closed doors (no thanks – some things are simply not my business) but because I hate falsehood and duality, and long to see some genuine integrity in people. It's not about getting caught or not; it's about who you really are, deep down. That's why I like the Dennis Skinner/Anne Widdecombe-type politicians – they aren't trying to impress or suck up to anyone. I want to be like that. I want to be the same person, whoever you put me with. I don't want to change myself dependent on my audience.
Our Prime Minister has had accusations and rumours floating around for ages concerning his 'private character' (eg. being thin-skinned, quick to blame others, bullying etc.), stuff that has now come into the light. But the thing is, no one is flawless; we know that. It's the pretending to be something you're not that bugs people. No one is perfect, so why did he pretend to be? Why does anyone? Pretending – putting on an act – is lying. Why do we feel the need?
What you have said in the dark will be heard in the daylight,
and what you have whispered in the ear in the inner rooms will be proclaimed from the roofs.
Gordon put his foot in it, like we all do. He's a flawed person, as we all are. But one day we will all realise that we are perfectly known and still completely loved anyway. We never needed to pretend in the first place.
And, in spite of myself, I'm feeling remarkably at peace about the whole concept.
So, after a shorter-than-expected time working on a Cornish farm, Maria & I are once more in transit, once more about to set off for pastures new (France this time, from next week until mid-June), and once more lacking a home or a place in which to belong. It's hard, especially since we're not willfully avoiding those things (at all!).
We are longing for a niche, for a community, for a life; but so far, no doors have opened (despite our pushing) beyond a nice Sudanese fella in Redruth offering me a one-day-a-week job. It frustrates me no end. Off into the wilderness again …
And the thing is, I believe quite strongly in this:
Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the ungodly,
nor stands in the path of sinners,
nor sits in the seat of the scornful;
but whose delight is in the law of the Lord,
and in his law he meditates day and night
He will be like a tree planted by rivers of water,
that brings forth its fruit in season;
whose leaf shall not wither,
and whatever he does will prosper
I really do believe that we will be fruitful in any situation that we are put in – that whatever job we do, we'll do it well and bring life and growth. It's just that we don't have a place to be planted, and therefore nowhere to prosper. It really frustrates me.
Maria said, 'not all those who wander are lost' to me in church on Sunday. It's a line I've felt close to for years now – for years and years (although I don't think she realised that). I am feeling very much like a Ranger at the moment: landless but kind of noble; valuable but underappreciated. Hmmmmm …
This is my new SuperHero name, since embarking on a new career (a career which is scheduled to last until June, but you never know, it may career off somewhere else). I am in Cornwall, living on a little alpaca farm, but not doing a whole bundle with the alpacas yet.
Mainly we are preparing the vegetable plots (ie. weeding) and taking time-consuming work off the hands of our hosts (ie. cooking and washing up). Deep stuff.
I love how mystical farming seems to well-meaning daydreamers like me, when in reality it's just quite a lot of pretty repetitive work. Good for the soul though, apparently.