I always knew I would never adapt to a normal life, especially if normal was the bland example of existence that was being lived . My instincts signalled early on to tolerate anything superficial and mundane. That sooner of later the world would reveal the magic that I felt was always lurking beyond the surface.

I am curious if it is typical to know that you don't belong as a child. Although I could accept the genetics and family dynamics, I also knew that my formula was the Cookoo's egg in the family nest. Maybe that was necessary so that early on I would develope the skills to pretend to be a bird of a different feather, to hone the qualities and blend. So much so, that for the first chapter of my life, even I myself could believe that i could be accepted by the flock. It was that belief that summed me to consider I was a failure. A message that my mother has been trying to drive home for twenty years. All the while inside me, internally I was rejecting and breaking down.

Certainly I can accept now that this period of my life was a good one. A necessary rejection of the crippled foundation that should have been home. My father, intouch enough with both worlds, to encourage me to flee, leave, reject the predictable path of adaption. His instincts and life on the remote island helped him to know the qualities of a simplier life. Even more , to know the kinship of nature and ones place in it.

I am astounded now that I had the courage to leave London at 27, knowing deeply that I would never return. Maybe it was more of a case of being afraid to stay. That my fear of continuing to live there, and face everyone that expected me to be the robust egg of a being, with the radiant shell of deception. A shell that had already started to crack and crumble and the effort to maintain the facade was taking more effort that I had left in me.

So flee I did. Not quite knowing where I would end up, or how I would fund the ability to get there, but it was in my mind a case of life or death. Death of a personality that is. A personality that was so far removed from the yolk of my being, that the vacume was consuming the facade.

The opportunity of reinventing the self was probably the most wonderful gift I ever allowed myself. Here I am 16 years later, once again in that space. The shell of the last 12 years of marriage all cracked and beyond a fix in any measure. At least now I can see the opportunity. I know what I surrended and allowed to be lost in the process of adaption to acceptance. I also appreciate that life is under nourished if you allow these things to be lost.

So today I am a seeker of new things. All the qualities that I allowed to be absent in my past, are the focus of my future.
This time I will try without the shell. For there is little resiliance left in me. There is nothing I wish to face. I have been hollowed out, so much so, that I feel practically transparent. Life and harshness has purified me. I have tried to be hard and uneffected. But I also found my heart. It was in the process of loosing it all, that you are left with the authentic self. You have the choice to know it and feel it. Options are to avoid it and live from another place




just not a very good example of the