The Power of Prayer

It has been just over two months since I lasted posted on here but in that short time my whole world has been turned upside down. I look outside the window, noting that Spring has made a tardy appearance and that the foliage on the trees outside my office have burst forth in a verdant display of abundance. Yet, I can't help feeling a touch of indignation that the world continues to go about its business and the sun still shines. This may sound like an odd statement but, as I have recently discovered, when there is a shift of cataclysmic proportions in your own private corner of the universe, you are left with the sensation that this should somehow be reflected in the wider world and a feeling of bafflement and annoyance that it is not. There has been a seismic shift in my world and nothing will ever be the same again, but the earth carries on circling round the sun and the seasons continue their unaltered, centuries-old course.

Someone once wrote that grief is the price we pay for love and this is a lesson I have learnt well over the past four decades of my life but none of the losses I have experienced to date compare with what awaits me. I realise now that I have been lucky because although I have had my share of heartache, I have never had to face losing someone who is at the heart of my world. There are certain people in our lives who are irreplaceable but whose presence we tend to take for granted; ironically, we sometimes only fully appreciate how valuable they are when faced with their imminent loss. A mother is one such person.

In my particular case, my mother is more than a mother: she is also my best friend, the person who knows me better than anyone and the only person who will ever love me unconditionally, no matter what. I have not always had an easy relationship with this strong-willed lady– two feisty and determined women such as us are bound to clash at times – but, in recent years, we have forged a solid bond founded on mutual admiration and appreciation and a strong sense of complicity. Over time, my mother and I have learnt to look after and look out for one another and this has made both our lives easier and more pleasurable. We have supported each other through some rough times but we have also shared some wonderful times, feasting on each other’s triumphs as though they were our own. In view of all this, I quite simply cannot begin to imagine my life without her.

On this subject, it seems to me that there must be an inbuilt feature in the hardwiring of the human brain that prevents us from dwelling too much on the fact that life must eventually come to an end and that things cannot continue indefinitely as we have always known them. This feature undoubtedly serves a useful purpose – particularly as it prevents us from becoming excessively melancholy, allowing us to go about the routine business of our lives without experiencing too much existential angst. However, despite the undoubted usefulness of this form of self-protective denial, it definitely has a downside: namely that when we are suddenly and abruptly forced to confront our own mortality or that of a loved one, it tends to come as an almighty shock.

Yet, despite the shock and the sorrow of the last few weeks, at times the unmistakeable glimmer of the proverbial ‘silver lining’ has illuminated the dark clouds surrounding my family. To begin with, I have received a valuable lesson in the importance and value of courage. In the circumstances, it is remarkable that the one to deliver this lesson has been my mother herself, who - to her everlasting credit - has remained strong, composed and selfless throughout all of this. I have never once seen her indulge in self-pity or give way to despair and her focus has remained unwaveringly upbeat and positive. Knowing her as I do, I would have expected nothing less of her in this situation; nonetheless, her strength and composure in the face of personal adversity are remarkable because the fact of the matter is this: if my life has been turned upside down, hers has changed forever in the space of just 14 days. Observing the grace and dignity with which she has handled this situation, I can only hope that I might have inherited some of the qualities of this remarkable lady.

It is often at the most challenging of times that people draw together and, true to form, my extended family has sprung into action to offer a very welcome transatlantic network of support and comfort. In addition, my relationship with my brother has unexpectedly transformed itself. Until recently, we had never been close but the shared difficulties of the last few weeks have given us a sense of common purpose and unity. I have also been fortunate to count on the support of my ‘other’ family - made up of a close-knit circle of close friends who I regard as honorary siblings. Despite the geographical distance between us, they never fail to step up to the mark when help is needed. Within a couple of hours of sending a simple four-word text along the lines of “help, I need you!” its recipient, who happened to be on a business trip in Petra, Jordan had got out of whatever she was doing and called me. She was so keen to offer her support in any way she could that she offered to come and clean the toilet bowl in my parents’ house, bless her!

However, throughout the highs and lows of the last few life-altering weeks, my greatest source of strength and wisdom – keeping me on course throughout all the turbulence - has been my Buddhist faith. I have come to appreciate just how fortunate I am to follow a philosophy that offers pragmatic yet profound guidance on how to cope with life, especially when the going gets tough. This is truly the greatest of blessings because my Buddhist prayers enabled me to maintain a connection with my mother during the period when she was attached to various machines and fighting for her life - making direction communication impossible. Throughout this time, I felt an unwavering conviction that she could feel the vibrations of my daimoku (Buddhist chants) and I knew that they were having a positive impact on her physical and psychological state. She later told me that she knew that she was not battling alone: she felt my prayers. She also felt the healing energy from the prayers of all our beloved friends and family who were earnestly praying for her in their respective corners of the world. We were not all praying to the same God - or in my case, to any God at all - but in the final analysis, Buddhist prayers, Christian prayers, Muslim prayers are all one in the same, as long as they are offered with a loving intention. This is the wonderful thing about prayer: it has the transformative and restorative power to deliver hope, light and life to the darkest of situations. Sadly, there is a lot of confusion about prayer: some people seem to think that it is an irrational attempt to bargain with a non-existent Divine being, others confuse it with positive thinking. Yet ultimately, prayer is Action and my mother most definitely sensed the effects of that most loving of actions when she most needed it.

Over the last couple of weeks, I have learnt to live in and appreciate the present moment, taking each day as it comes and giving thanks for it. Moreover, despite my sorrow and fearfulness about the future, my faith has given me the courage to never give up. Buddhism always reminds me that no matter how insignificant and powerless I may feel, I have the capacity to affect whatever situation I may find myself in – no matter how difficult  – in a positive way

I would like to end this post with a quote from Nichiren Daishonin.

Though one might point at the earth and miss it, though one might bind up the sky, though the tides might cease to ebb and flow and the sun rises in the west, it could never come about that the prayers of the practitioner of the Lotus Sutra Sutra would go unanswered.

(Passage from “On Prayer”, The Writings of Nichiren Daishonin)

Faith like flowing water…

Those who know me well understand that I am the kind of person who feels things intensely; consequently, my opinions tend to reflect this.  I am a passionate advocate of the causes closest to my heart and have strong views on a number of subjects - particularly, the more complex philosophical issues concerning life and death. It was my unceasing quest for meaning – a way to make sense of the often unjust and seemingly random world we live in – that led me to Buddhism; which I still consider to be the only world religion that comes anywhere near throwing any real light on such questions.  

My thoughtful, introspective and somewhat rebellious nature revealed itself from an early age, showing itself in my tendency to question things. I recall one of my teachers telling my parents that I was a bright child but very hard to teach, mainly because of my refusal to accept any kind of received knowledge as a given – I would always ask WHY? Furthermore, I would not stop asking why until I was satisfied with the answer, which quite often never happened!

The reason I share this with you is that I have been thinking recently about why my experience of the world has been so difficult and how this links to some of those character traits I have just described.  This is by no means an exercise in self-pity, I realise that life is a difficult business for most of us and I am lucky enough to be blessed with good health, a fulfilling job and two wonderful children – so I do not have a lot to complain about. Nonetheless, my transit through this world has not been an easy one and the conclusion I have reached about it is this: my tendency towards extremes and acute sensitivity make life just a little more uncomfortable and jagged round the edges than it is for most people.

This leads me to recall something my mother once said about me many years ago. Commenting on the intensity with which I experience things, she made the following observation: when I am happy, I appear to transcend the mundane concerns of every day life like a visionary from another dimension; however, conversely, when I am not, I seem to be lost in a cataclysmic abyss of unfathomable depths.  She also remarked that for one who lives betwixt and between such diametrically opposed extremes, I ought somehow to have grown accustomed to this emotional rollercoaster; at least enough to be able to embrace the highs and resign myself with grace to the lows. Yet, the reality is that although I am, by now, thoroughly accustomed to being me – after all, I have had 42 years to get used to it - I have never really made peace with the extreme tendencies that seem so intrinsic to my nature.

This is not to say that I dislike being me – there are at least some positives associated with the experience: for example, I am very glad to be the kind of person who never does anything half-heartedly. And, in a way, I’m also grateful for my capacity to feel things so intensely as it means I get to experience all of life’s beauty in extreme Technicolor with magnified surround sound (even though it also inevitably means that I experience all of life’s ugliness in a similarly enhanced way). Yet the uncomfortable reality is this: at times, it is rather exhausting to be me - especially when it comes to relationships….

This is an area of life where my experience seems to diverge considerably from that of my friends and acquaintances involved in long-term, committed relationships.  Like many couples, they too experience periods of turbulence with their significant others but, for most of the time, they seem to enjoy calm and harmonious relations.  Without wishing to question here whether or not this is the norm, I can only report that, as in so many other areas of life, my experience of relationships deviates significantly from this.

Although it is not easy to acknowledge, my interactions with my significant others – including my youngest son – seem to be characterised by conflict and high drama.  This sometimes gives me cause to reflect that whilst, for some, relationships provide nourishment, comfort and reassurance – a bit like home baked apple pie on a cold, winter’s day – mine are rarely like that.  In fact, to give another food analogy, if I had to describe the primary ingredients of my relationships, I would say they combine the tangy sharpness of limes with the fiery fury of jalapenos; though, just occasionally the finest trace of pure honeyed caramel lends an unexpected dash of sweetness to this volatile mix. However, most of the time the incontrovertible truth of the matter is this: black and white, sweet and sour; my relationships – like me – are pure ice and fire!

At this point, I return to my earlier fleeting reference to Buddhism because what I have just described is precisely why Buddhism – being a philosophy essentially concerned with harmony and balance - is actually a perfect fit for me. The reason for this is quite simple: since I am unquestionably one of the world’s finest, long-standing drama queens, this an area where I am particularly ‘developmentally challenged!’

A word about Buddhism here: the school of Buddhism that I follow advocates that to change karma, you need to have faith like flowing water (see footnote*). What this means is that it is vitally important to be constant and unwavering in faith, no matter what life throws at you – good or bad – but particularly when things are bad. This is a challenging concept for someone like me because, being of fiery temperament, my faith more closely resembles fire than water: it flares up with majestic brilliance and then extinguishes itself at the slightest breeze. Consequently, when times are hard, I dedicate myself to my Buddhist practice as though my very existence depended on it – only to discard it again like yesterday’s newspaper when things improve. Fortunately, I have this self-knowledge so there is at least some hope of transforming my lack of constancy and creating a bit of balance as opposed to yet more extremes.

I often wonder how life would be were I to attain a state of total enlightenment. Would I be a picture of calm, the perfect embodiment of the principles of Zen? Would I break free from my attachment to extremes and dissociate myself from my drama queen persona? More importantly still, would I really even want to? For, strange though it may seem, I am rather fond of some of my defining characteristics. This is because although there is a downside to being me, there is also most definitely an upside: for one thing, my passionate nature means that life has rarely been dull and my journey through this world has been a colourful one, to say the least! However, the beauty of the religion I have chosen for myself is that it does not require me to give up being who I am. This is because, unlike some schools of Buddhism, it does not advocate renouncing worldly attachments or practicing assiduously for many lifetimes to change negative karma. Instead, the Buddhism of Nichiren Daishonin allows me to continue being me, with all my qualities and imperfections, whilst simultaneously encouraging me to become more balanced and less combative. As a result, I am able to connect with a calmer and more grounded self - an enlightened version of me - that has been polished and purified through my daily Buddhist practise.  All that is required in return is that I keep showing up every day in front of my Butsudan (a Buddhist altar) until my faith becomes like flowing water – continuous and unstoppable. 

Ultimately, the reality of my situation is this: unless I have a complete personality change - caused by a freak accident or brain surgery – I am likely to live out the rest of my days being the same intense, thoughtful, passionate, rebellious, contradictory and difficult person I have always been. However, fortunately, I am lucky enough to have the tools at my disposition to temper the extremeness of my character so that there is more equilibrium and harmony in my everyday life. If I can manage to do this, there is some hope that rather than being dragged through life by the scruff of the neck, bouncing from high to low, I will find a place of stillness within the ebb and flow of my emotions. Perhaps, that way, I may be able to continue living life with similar intensity but less suffering.

Today there are people who have faith in the Lotus Sutra. The belief of some is like a fire while that of others is like water. When the former listen to the teachings, their passion flares up like fire, but when by themselves, they are inclined to discard their faith. To have faith like water means to believe continuously without ever regressing. Since you pay frequent visits to me regardless of the difficulties, your belief is comparable to flowing water. It is worthy of great respect!

(Gosho from the writings of Nichiren Daishonin, p. 1206; MW-2, p. 296)

* Footnote: Karma in the context I use it here means the dominant patterns established through repeated thoughts, actions and words over many lifetimes, which create a complex chain of causes and effects.

A timely reminder...

A friend of mine recently asked me why I haven't written anything on my blog for some time. In the course of our conversation, I was surprised to discover that he is a regular follower of my internet musings and that, furthermore, he actually looks forward to reading my new posts. I was unsure how to respond at first, partly because I hadn't fully articulated - even to myself - the reasons why I had stopped writing but his question got me thinking. So, after a few moments of reflection, I replied that I had not written any new posts in the last couple of months because I have been going through a very dark period in my personal life. I also ventured to speculate that, perhaps as a result of this, my creative muse has temporarily abandoned me. Yet, as I said these things, I realised that there had actually been another deeper reason for my recent silence. So, I finally admitted  - both to him and to myself - that a sense of shame and failure had been preventing me from writing; this is because my previous blog post was on the subject of happiness and since I had so clearly failed to follow my own advice about how to be happy, I no longer felt that I had anything of value to say. I also felt like a fraud: after all, what is the point of writing knowledgably on a particular subject unless you are able to practice what you preach?!

What happened next was one of the most beautiful reminders I have had to date of the abiding presence of grace in my life. To clarify, those of you have read my previous posts will recall that I have a strong belief in the existence of angels. I believe that these benevolent beings can take any form and that they act as messengers who invariably appear when they are most needed – whether to save us from danger or merely to offer a much-needed piece of advice. When times are bleak, I sometimes forget that I am not alone and do not need to struggle with my burdens single-handedly but this chance encounter was a reminder of their presence and of the protective forces supporting my life. I should add that I had not seen the friend in question for many weeks and I certainly did not expect to see him at that moment in time but suddenly there he was, telling me exactly what I needed to hear, just when I needed to hear it. What he actually said was very simple but it seems to me that simplicity is often the hallmark of true wisdom. In essence, this is the message that my angel in disguise had been sent to convey:

- There is no reason to feel like a failure because you have not yet found the happiness you deserve.

- Just because you cannot always live up to the words of wisdom that you share with others does not invalidate what you have to say or detract in any way from its truth.

- Writing is what you most love to do and, whether your words are of hope and inspiration or sorrow and regret does not matter; what matters is only that you use this talent to communicate your truth and connect with others.

For now, this is all I want to share with my readers but I wanted to take this opportunity to give thanks to those who love and support me – known and unknown – and to offer up a prayer that you may always be with me. I feel truly humbled and blessed by your presence.

The Recipe for Happiness

It often seems that happiness is a short-lived, ephemeral experience but over the last few months I have learnt that it does not have to be this way. For the fact of the matter is that happiness - like everything else of value in this life - can only be sustained with effort. The problem is that many of us think of happiness as a state of grace that relies on external forces beyond our control -  like a gift from the Gods or a favourable conjunction of the planets in relation to our birth sign. However, if we want to experience an enduring sense of contentedness and fulfilment that is untouched by life’s inevitable highs and lows, we have to build the foundations for this to occur. It is easy to forget that we are one hundred percent responsible for our own well-being; consequently, rather than being something that just happens to us, our happiness is very much the fruit of our own labours.

I have discovered that one of the most effective ways to experience more joy in my life is to focus my mind on the many blessings that I have been given and to cultivate a deep sense of gratitude for them. Many of us were told as children to count our blessings – usually in a context when we were not feeling particularly blessed or grateful – but the simple act of focusing on the good things in our lives really does have its benefits. For, no matter how dissatisfied or disgruntled we may be feeling, we can all find something to be grateful for; and the great news is that the more we focus our attention on this, the more the things that are troubling us seem to fade into the background. Cultivating a deep sense of appreciation for the blessings in our lives – starting with the very smallest of things that so many of us take for granted, such as a beautiful sunset or a delicious meal - is a very simple yet powerful way of experiencing a greater sense of well-being. Furthermore, by cultivating the habit of feeling gratitude for everything we have, we literally re-programme our minds to notice and acknowledge what many of us simply take for granted. The fact is that the more we focus on the good things in our lives, no matter how small, the more we will find to be grateful for and the happier we will feel. The law of attraction simply states that you attract into your life whatever you think about; consequently, your dominant thoughts will always find a way to manifest.

However, maintaining a positive outlook and a sense of gratitude is not easy, especially when times are hard, and it is precisely because we have to actively participate in the manifestation of our own blessings and good fortune that happiness can so easily elude us. Buddhism teaches that enlightenment comes from learning to master your own mind and I believe that this form of self-mastery is central to developing the sort of happiness that endures, irrespective of personal circumstances.  For me, this challenge to master myself – and in the process become happier - has involved developing a greater awareness of my own internal dialogue and thought patterns. This may seem like a strange thing to do but I believe that it is crucial to preserving and maintaining a sense of wellbeing. As Elizabeth Gilbert, author of "Eat, Pray, Love" puts it: “You need to learn how to select your thoughts just the same way you select your clothes every day.”

Learning this skill takes time and effort – and I do not claim to have mastered it yet – but I have started to make positive progress in the right direction. Like many people, when things are tough I have a tendency to compare myself to other (more fortunate) people or to imagine that the grass is greener someone else – and from time to time this old theme continues to replay itself. However, these days – whenever I find my thoughts wandering down this particular pathway to misery – a warning signal immediately sounds in my brain alerting me to danger.  This is important because if the same negative thought patterns occur frequently enough, in time such thoughts crystallise into beliefs, which flourish like weeds in the fertile territory of our minds. Of course we cannot monitor every single thought that goes through ours heads but, as the content of our thoughts has such a direct impact on the quality of our lives, it definitely helps to be more aware of what is going on up there!

Over the last few months, I have started to observe the idiosyncratic workings of my own mind as one might study an alien species - with interest, incomprehension and, at times, dismay! During this process, I have made several interesting discoveries, including the identification of a critical and rather sceptical pessimist who dwells inside my head. Although she has inhabited my interior landscape for what seems like forever, she had never fully revealed herself to me until I started watching out for her. In recent weeks she has kept a low profile but each time she appears,  I acknowledge her with a smile and then send her on her way with love.

The results of this process, over a period of about 8 weeks, have been truly transformational. One of the most noticeable developments has been a fundamental change in the way that I interact with my husband. By simply becoming more aware of my own thought processes and reactions, I realised that I sometimes allow the daily challenges of conjugal living to escalate in my mind to the point where relatively minor irritations acquire monstrous proportions.  This tendency to focus on the negative and react with anger to even the smallest of aggravations was literally destroying my marriage, so I made a decision to practise recognising and releasing myself from these destructive thought patterns.

The following is just one small example of how things have changed for me. In recent weeks, I found myself poised on the verge of a heated argument: my husband had said something thoughtless and I had automatically reverted to my standard default position in these situations - in other words battle mode! However, instead of responding with the usual recriminations, I stopped. Instead of reacting, I paused, took a deep breath and asked myself why I was feeling this way.  This pause gave me the clarity to realise that I had been holding onto a number of unspoken grievances for several days and that this latest aggravation had triggered them all.  Although I had kept my feelings of irritation to myself, each time something had vexed me, a new spiky-edged resentment had taken up residence in my mind. Armed with this new awareness, I decided to give myself some space from the situation. Once the fog of anger was no longer clouding my mind, I was able to take a step back from myself and assess things more clearly. On further reflection, I realised that my tendency to dwell on things that have upset me means that I never let go of minor hurts; unsurprisingly these bad feelings then snowball in my mind until eventually – with the right amount of external pressure – an avalanche occurs!

So, I asked myself a simple question:  what would happen if instead of wallowing in negativity and gathering resentments, I directed more of my attention to the positive things in my life? Just by posing myself this question, something immediately shifted inside my head. I suddenly found myself thinking of all the things that I truly love and appreciate about my husband and remembering the good times we have shared. This refocusing technique was so effective that within minutes my anger and resentment had evaporated; so much so that I was able to completely let go of my self-righteous indignation and tell my husband how much I value his presence in my life. 

This leads me to the conclusion that, ultimately, happiness is just a matter of choice. With each new day, it is up to me to decide whether I will spend my waking hours feeling gratitude for the blessings in my life or whether I will focus instead on my troubles. This may sound naively simple but it really is that straightforward; we make it hard because we forget that we are responsible for our happiness – but the fact is, nobody can give us peace of mind and nobody can take it away, without our permission.  For me, the best discovery of all has been that it is not that hard to lead a happy and fulfilled existence - it just requires patience, practice and perseverance. In fact, the recipe for happiness is actually quite simple: to a base of gratitude, add a generous measure of positive thoughts - carefully sifting to prevent any lingering negativity from contaminating the mix - add a dash of self-awareness, half a dozen handfuls of compassion, sprinkle lightly with a few heartfelt prayers  (this will help the ingredients to bind together) and then gently heat with love. The end product will be well worth the time and effort it takes to prepare.

“Happiness cannot be travelled to, owned, earned, worn or consumed. Happiness is the spiritual experience of living every minute with love, grace and gratitude.”  Denis Waitley

Looking back…

Since creating my blog in March of this year, I have discovered that writing has given a new sense of purpose and direction to my life; at times, it has also been like a welcome balm for a troubled spirit. When things have been difficult in my personal or professional life, writing has given me a platform for self-expression and a means of connecting with the outside world.  It does not matter that those who read these words are mostly unknown to me; just knowing that you are there - reading these posts - gives me a sense of connectedness to you.  For me, the joy of writing is that it has allowed me to create something greater than myself – to step outside my own small, confined world and share my thoughts, ideas and experiences.

My writing has evolved over the course of the last few months to convey a vision of the world that is gradually becoming less personalised and localised and more expansive and inclusive; this feels to me like quite a natural progression. Although the themes of my recent posts are still determined by my unique experiences and reflect a subjective perception of the world, I have become increasingly interested in exploring the intersection between my world and the world, between the personal and the universal. Consequently, when I write about my experiences as a 41 year old woman living on the south west coast of England, what increasingly fires my imagination is how my little corner of the universe forms part of a greater whole; and, how I can use the written word as a bridge - connecting the personal with the universal and the local with the global. There is no doubt that we are all moulded by the society, culture, and family in which we grew up and that we all filter reality through eyes that have been conditioned by our earliest experiences. Yet, despite the huge differences between people, what unites us far outweighs any divisions of class, gender or nationality. After all, we all have to grow up and find our way in the world; we will all experience heartache at some time or another; and, if we live long enough, we will all grow old and come face to face with our own mortality.

I have frequently observed that the most gifted writers are those who have a talent for vividly recreating a picture of a world they know and situating it within a wider framework that reflects the commonality of human experience. In this way, The God of Small Things transcends the local reality of Kerala, India with its rigidly hierarchical cast system and speaks of greater universal truths about division and exclusion. Similarly, on one level, One Hundred Years of Solitude recounts the tale of the lives of successive generations of the same family in a remote part of Colombia; yet the novel also contains a metanarrative that speaks of the nature of time and memory and Man’s struggle to break free from the shackles of the past. In this way, Garcia Marquez’s prize winning bestseller transcends a localised sense of time and place to touch on universal truths that extend beyond Colombian borders.

I would like to think that I have achieved something similar in my own writing - albeit on a much smaller scale than these great authors; and that, in the process, I have reached beyond the confines of my own finite existence in time and space to create something of universal relevance and enduring value. I also hope that anyone that reads these blog posts can relate on some level to their content - no matter what corner of the world they inhabit and no matter how dissimilar their life experiences have been from my own. It would be gratifying to know that my readers in Russia gain as much from my blog posts as those in Dorset!

Communication in a Digital Age

No doubt, most of you are familiar with the expression, “a rose by any other name is just as sweet”, but I for one, beg to differ with the sentiment of this old adage. I suppose that it is unsurprising, given my love of words and writing, that I like things to be called by their proper name but my feelings on this subject go deeper than this: the fact of the matter is that I utterly abhor the current all too common bastardisation of the English language. Sadly, the misuse – or perhaps, should I say the abuse - of our language has become all the more prevalent since the invention of “text talk” with its convenient shortening of words. This unfortunate tendency, combined with the fact that we now have a young population who read far less than in previous generations, is turning us into a nation of people with a limited vocabulary and only the vagueness of notions of correct punctuation and spelling.

In fact, it is precisely because of my love of words – both their meaning and their sound- that I gave a lot of thought to the names of my children. Unfortunately, at the time, it did not occur to me that the beautiful Russian Princess name of my daughter would morph from Tatiana to Tat; although I probably should have realised that Christian Eduardo would become Chris – fortunately, I decided to make Eduardo his middle and not his first name, otherwise he would now be known as Ed. As for me, I am Claire-Louise (with a hyphen), not Claire and not Louise but Claire-Louise. It is no doubt a sign of the times that I am almost apologetic when I point this out to people, but I sometimes wonder why I should feel this way, after all, I am not being pedantic - this is my name! Of course, I realise that, unlike the French, the English do not really have a tradition for hyphenated first names, but it is not difficult to get your tongue around Claire-Louise so there is not really much excuse for getting it wrong.

This brings me back to my original point about the misuse of language. I think it fair to say that there is a growing tendency among the younger population of this country to be lazy or careless in their use of language; and, since the dawn of the era of digital communications - and with it text messaging and other forms of instant messaging - this laziness is becoming ever more pronounced. Furthermore, it seems to me that an increasing overreliance, if not downright dependency, on such mediums of communication is significantly diminishing the quality of personal interactions between people everywhere. However, before you accuse me of being old-fashioned and contemptuous of modern technology, I hasten to point out that I have nothing against such mediums per se – text messages are fine for sending short messages: for example, letting people know your whereabouts or telling your other half not to forget to pick up some fish for dinner. However, text messaging is not a good medium for communications of a more personal nature or as a substitute for a face-to-face conversation; and, whilst it can be fun for flirting and playful banter, in the context of more serious conversations it presents far too many opportunities for error or misunderstanding.

To give an example that some of you may relate to, it can be dangerously, and almost seductively easy, to get into an argument by text. Words fly back and forth with the velocity of a ping-pong game, making this an excellent medium for delivering verbal blows conveniently, thoughtlessly and effortlessly by a quick touch of the key pad. Then, before you know it, you find yourself embroiled in a text war!  The same is true of email although, unless you are having a chat via Instant Messenger, the time delay between the sending and receiving of a message makes it less likely for an argument to escalate with the same kind of out of control velocity. This misuse of a medium not well designed for such serious and personal communications has resulted in a growing number of people succumbing to the temptation of terminating their relationships by text! No doubt, in such cases the sender imagines that they have saved themselves considerable time and effort, in addition to having avoided a potentially painful confrontation. Yet, in some instances there is no substitute for face-to-face communication, particularly when two people are in conflict with one another, and if at such times we are tempted to communicate remotely instead of actually talking to each other and making eye contact, the outcome is unlikely to be positive.

A similar scenario would be unlikely to occur if we had to express ourselves in longhand by letter: for one thing, we would have more time to reflect, so our words would probably be more measured and moderate once we had allowed ourselves the chance to calm down. Secondly, it is possible that the cramp in our hand brought about by writing under the influence of blind anger or the effort involved in buying a stamp and taking our “missile” to the post box would be enough to deter us from sending it in the first place! Similarly, if such an exchange were to take place face-to-face, body language and eye contact would allow us to attribute meaning more accurately to words and misunderstandings would be less likely to occur.

It is the sheer ease and convenience of the many forms of instant messaging currently available that pose the greatest threat to the nature and quality of our interactions. This brings me onto the subject of text messaging whilst under the influence of alcohol – apparently an increasingly common phenomenon – and, suffice it to say, that something similar applies i.e. greater ease of communication=greater likelihood for making errors= potentially huge embarrassment.

The reality is that there are a significant number of people who have been so seduced by the idea of constant, and almost instantaneous communication, that they think it perfectly acceptable (normal even) to send text messages when having dinner, driving their cars or even in the midst of a conversation with someone else. I sometimes cannot help but wonder if these people were actually born with their mobiles attached to the umbilical cord connecting them to their mothers! Unfortunately, this observation does not exclusively apply to those who are still young – I have seen parents who are too busy writing text messages to engage properly with their children.

My feelings on this topic tend to reach boiling point when one particular family member comes to visit. It often seems that we are barely able to exchange two words before her phone alerts her to a new text or BBM (BlackBerry instant messaging for those of you not in the know). Once that happens, there might as well be a hologram in front of me rather than a real human being! Whilst my beloved relation lends half an ear - and probably less than a quarter of her brain - to our conversation, there is a discreet but unmistakeable tapping sound in the background as her fingers conduct a parallel conversation under the table!

I realise that those of you who do not know me might assume that the writer of these lines is a woman of a certain age, giving vent to her frustrations with modern life; you know the type - the kind of person who likes to bemoan the passing of the good old days and the loss of traditional values. Well, up to a point, you would be right because, make no mistake about it; I do lament the loss of certain things associated with a past era. Yet, the fact of the matter is that I have always been a purist when it comes to language, I have never understood why some people prefer to substitute good conversation over dinner with the drone of the T.V. and I have long lamented the decline of certain forms of communication - such as the ancient art of letter writing. I think I first noticed this when I was in my mid to late twenties and email communications gradually started to replace hand written letters. It may be that I am more a product of my upbringing than my generation, but either way, it seems clear to me that modernity and “progress” are not necessarily synonymous. We have created a society in which everything can be done faster and where geographical distances have shrunk to the point of being almost irrelevant (at least in terms of communications) but what is more questionable is whether in the process we have actually improved the quality of human relations.

On a final note, I would like to add that I still have every love letter that I have ever received, stored away in a couple of boxes under my bed. To me these objects are of inestimable value – not only because of the poetic beauty of their content – but also because of the obvious thought, time and effort that went into writing them. Of course, there is no doubt that the same sentiments could have been conveyed more economically and easily by text, but “luv u babe” would not have won my heart or given me a lifetime of memories to look back on.

Falling in love: an unpalatable truth

With time and experience most of us discover that even the most stable and enduring relationships have a dark underside. However, some relationships appear to be programmed from the start to reveal this uncomfortable reality.  In such cases, it often seems that the more passionate and intense the relationship, the greater the propensity for love’s shadow to emerge. This may be a union of hearts but it is rarely a meeting of minds.  At times heaven seems near but hell is always just around the corner and a fall from grace seems both imminent and unavoidable. There is an underlying sense that time is measured and an uneasy awareness that something dangerous lurks just beneath the surface: a self-destruct button, waiting to detonate given the right amount of pressure.

Of course, being in love and truly loving someone are different things. When we truly love another, we cherish and nurture their hopes, needs and dreams as we would our own. Such altruistic impulses are rarely associated with infatuation. Furthermore, we see the imperfections of the one we love but continue to love them anyway - in spite of or maybe even because of their flaws.

By contrast, falling in love is easy and requires no effort. You can fall in love just as easily as you can fall ill with flu and we often feel that we have little or no choice in the matter. Furthermore, the intense attraction we experience when we are infatuated with someone temporarily blinds us to reality. We have fallen victim to the love bug, whose symptoms include: elevated heart rate, inability to focus, obsessive thinking, mood swings (varying from rapture to deep despondency depending on how the object of our desire is responding to us) etc. On a purely chemical level, the physical symptoms associated with being in love are not dissimilar from the high a drug addict must feel after taking a hit of cocaine: an instant shot of euphoria which gradually wears off over time…. until the next dose is delivered. It is therefore hardly surprising that we are unable to see the object of our affections with any real clarity whilst in the grip of this turbulent emotional state.

Looked at objectively, it seems likely that this uncomfortable state of irrationality, to which all human beings fall prey, is nothing more than a devious strategy invented by Mother Nature to ensure that babies continue to be born. What else could explain the fact that sometimes two clearly unsuited and emotionally incompatible people get together?!  Unfortunately this cruel and crafty lady does not care about the wellbeing of the two people involved; her only concern is their biological compatibility.

In my experience, the unpalatable truth about falling in love is that you can fall in love with anyone, including someone you may not particularly like and whose values you don't share! And, for us poor perverse souls who see love as a challenge, the intensity of our feelings only grows stronger when the object of our desire is unattainable. Marcel Proust describes the disastrous consequences of this kind of ‘love delusion’ in his epic book Swann in Love. Needless to say, this kind of infatuation can lead to some spectacularly ill advised decisions and problematic partnerships.

The kind of rapturous, passionate love that I have so far described is very different in nature from the kind of love that nourishes and sustains us. There is a world of difference between the kind of love that allows us to grow and flourish, becoming better people for the experience, and a passion that both blinds and enslaves us. It is, in short, the difference between what the Greeks describe as Eros and Agape. While Eros is characterised by passion and obsession, Agape is more like the unconditional and selfless love a parent feels for a child; it is the kind of love that requires us to look beyond on own self-centred needs and it always requires patience, understanding, forgiveness, flexibility, and a willingness to extend ourselves.

Of course, most relationships would not come into being in the first place without the initial intensity of Eros but, unless the influence of the God of erotic love is tempered by the balancing and stabilising presence of Agape, the flames of passion can rage out of control leaving nothing in their wake but charred ashes and shattered dreams.