6th May 2001

Whilst walking home from Church this evening at 7.45pm I couldn't help but notice how beautiful Oxford Circus, London is on a balmy summer's evening; golden rays of sunlight glancing off window panes, painting rooftops, and enveloping Starbucks signs and pigeons with soft yellow warmth, airplanes tracking red-gold trails of fiery dew across the sky. And I was struck by how, day to day, we see the world around us in its stark nakedness, the world of Man, cold, grey, secular and meaningless (we sputter to life, we burn briefly, we flicker out forelornly) and we try our best to comfort ourselves and offer ourselves some small solitute in the little reprieves we create, whether they be a shiny new car? a shiny new dress/suit? a shiny new career? a shiny new boyfriend / girlfriend? And yet, day to day we simply can't see the gifts God showers on us. We, you, him, her and myself included. Even the most devout Christian, even Mother Terasa I believe, and even the pope all - fallible (although probably some more fallible than others) at odd moments, all self-centred at some point. Even the wisest man has to check his blind spot before changing lanes :)

Evening to me is when these gifts become - for a while anyway, visible. Sunsets and vivid colours in the sky and in the streets, the world of Man transiently beautified by the paints from God's canvas (Oxford circus, on a mundane morning under a grey sky is frightfully ugly) - all visible, almost tangible. If you choose to see them. If you choose to believe in them. And yet, on this glorious evening, the people around me - even Christians en route home from the Church wore pained expressions and stared at their feet, and continued to quibble with each other. We see, but we do not see at all.

Someone writes today about faith lost; and whether faith can be regained. To my mind, one can only truly begin to understand the meaning of faith by understanding the basis of what we are trying to believe in; without a semblance of understanding, what you have - that brief, fleeting moment of almost-conviction, borne of a simple (God-given?) act witnessed, is not faith at all, but the seed of faith. Of course we all know that seeds, in the sun's love become the rose - but without care, they either wither and die, or never live at all. And such it is with Faith, methinks. (and love as well) My own faith, I confess is still infantile and germinating; the knowledge I have is but rudimentary, and oft I lament my ignorance in private; and perhaps one day, God willing I will find the time to pick up my bible and read dedicatedly, the way I should - and want to. Perhaps one day, my bibles will no longer be the cold hard texts of Clinical Medicine, and Microbiology. As for the beginnings of Faith? The adage goes that He stands outside on your doorstep, knocking patiently - it is for you to open the door and let him come into your life. It may well be that Christians who forsake their faith - perhaps? - never really truly had any Faith in the first place. Perhaps the words they once spoke about conversing with God, about how glad they were that God entered their lives - were but words echoed to please an unknown audience.

A very personal message today apparently. Interesting how these pages almost seem to write themselves - yes I know the technical term for this is "ranting", or verbal incontinence. I suppose I'll end on a quiet note for once. Someone I'm getting to know (alarmingly quickly) wondered in passing if these pages are my (online) diary... in a way they are, but yet in a way they aren't. These pages like diaries, are, reflections for myself, thoughts in the present that perhaps someday in the future I will revisit, and wonder about; yet these pages are not written in the confidence we entrust to diaries (as an aside see Bridget Jones' Diary... I loved it, and you will too!) because my deepest, and darkest moments are hardly inspirational, and face it, logging on and turning on the computer takes some of the melodrama away from everything :) Skeletons I have plenty of, but skeletons belong in graves, and dairies, and not on internet pages for public consumption and gratification. So these pages are written, ultimately for my benefit, and perhaps (although unintentionally) to satiate the passing curiosity of some random passerby - because I know full well the dedicated readers I have out there are few and far between; no doubt something to do with my very infrequent updates -- and I'm okay with it. These pages are written for my benefit - not yours. Never will I pander to the desires of an audience :) Never will I have to change my layout in the mis-impression that that's what my readers want -- things like that, those are for entertainers, not writers... Me? I'm just a simple guy, with simple needs, and complex thoughts.

Goodnight out there, from Get thee down and Study, London.