alsemero

... it comes back, uninvited and unexpected ... this feeling that you don't belong in your own skin, this desire to step outside of yourself and be 'not you', this dislike of who you are; and it drains you of energy, of life ...

Is there a point at which, if we find ourselves irrestibly drawn towards someone, it is better to look away, to shut them out of our experience, to deny even what our instincts and emotions are telling us?

I have a theory about conspiracy theories.

Every day we read novels and watch films and TV dramas where the ‘bad guys’ put together an incredibly complex plot to achieve their plans.

One ‘good guy’ starts to piece together the clues and sets off on a trail to pursue the ‘bad guys’, a trail that invariably leads him into conflict with the authorities, his friends and colleagues and, apparently, common sense.

After a series of tortuous twists and turns, false trails and apparent failure our ‘good guy’ finally tracks down and defeats the ‘bad guys’ (or not, in some cases).

It is the staple of so many Hollywood thrillers and TV dramas, and the formula is so pervasive that it has shaped our view of the world.

What these stories all possess is certainty.

Each chunk of the plot fits snugly to the next one and even the apparent false trails and wrong turns are all part of this neatly ordered universe.

So, when a significant real event takes place, some people choose to believe that it has been engineered from start to finish. Even with the most terrible events, the idea that it has a logical sequence gives a greater sense of comfort and security than the alternative, that it is totally beyond our control.

Some choose to call it God or fate. Others call it a conspiracy because the order and logic of a conspiracy is preferable to the idea of chaos, disorder and random events.

Added to this, the weight of peer pressure strengthens the conspiracy theory view of the world – that those who support conspiracy theories must have a greater insight into the workings of those in power and have access to knowledge and information that only the few, the ‘good guys’ can reach. And therefore, by default, those who deny conspiracy theories are either a) part of the conspiracy or b) naïve and trusting dupes of the organisation(s) that have generated the conspiracy.

And yet, the event that is perceived to be the result of a conspiracy is often hugely complex. There are countless strands, sequences and apparently loose ends relying on so many steps and actions that, even with a few minor changes, could easily lead to a different end result.

A study of history … and science for that matter … show this to be the case.

In spite of all this, those who disagree with the idea of conspiracy often cannot disprove all of the evidence and their failure to disprove is enough proof for the ‘truth’ of the conspiracy.

The conspiracy theory then is often the triumph of unreason, disguised as inevitable logic, over reason.

Sometimes I remember things with such immediacy and poignancy that it causes a brief physical reaction – my stomach churns and I catch my breath, as if I'm suffocating – caused by the intense mixture of pleasure at the memory and sorrow that the moment is gone.

And something I remember … more than 20 years ago, a holiday at the end of May, my wife was pregnant with our first child. On the last evening, while my wife was getting ready, I spent half an hour sitting on a bench under a tree near the guest house where we were staying. I smoked a cigarette, read my book (Romola by George Eliot) and looked out over the sea.

And the emotions that I felt then I remember now, as if they are tangible things that I can touch and feel. A sense of profound wellbeing and hope for the future; a still, breathless sensation that I encompassed the world and it encompassed me in a brief yet glorious moment of sharp, crystal-like and exquisite perfection.

... I look in the mirror and I think ... who ARE you??!!

... is it that you can you go for days, weeks, months feeling up, good, confident, positive then, for some inexplicable reason, it evaporates and you feel as if you have to go through a battle of wills just to get back to where you were?

And meanwhile, your ego is brittle, fragile and you bruise easily.

"... and over our heads will float the Bluebird singing of beautiful and impossible things, of things that are lovely and that never happen, of things that are not and that should be."

The Decay of Lying : Oscar Wilde

It is with a slow, sinking sense of despair that you realise you have, somehow, manoeuvered yourself into a confined space where the ability to move, let alone turn or break free, has become virtually impossible.

You are hemmed in by conventions, morals, opinions, obligations, responsibilities and the simple realities of day-to-day existence.

"Man's reach should outstretch his grasp or what's a heaven for?". Indeed. But if, to even attempt to reach means you will break down the walls and cause undeserved hurt, then what choices are left?

To be the subject of someone’s love or the object of their desire.

If we had to choose, which would it be?

Amongst a recently discovered set of papers found in a trunk in the attic of a 17th century cottage, the following incredible document was found. It is a letter by the poet, Andrew Marvell, that includes an early draft of his famous poem, ‘To His Coy Mistress’. Experts believe it was probably never sent and are making further checks on the veracity of the document.

Anyway, here it is ...

Dear Coy Mistress,
I saw you the other day down at the butchers and, struck by your bewitching beauty and your modest charms, I have written a poem:

Had we but world enough and time,
This coyness lady were no crime,
We would sit about and chat for a bit
We could go for a few drinks down the local

Oh sod it, I’m a bit pushed, do you fancy a shag or what?
Yours in anticipation
Andy Marvell.