Another return to the blogosphere

A friend alerted me to a recent comment to an earlier post so I went to see what was written so that I could respond. This was the first time in many months that I have been here. The reasons for this were many. First and foremost, however, was the need for me to withdraw from the world and do one hell of a lot of internal housekeeping, the details of which are not relevant here but may well emerge over the course of my return to blogging. I have made abortive attempts to do this a couple or so times since my return from Hungary in late 2009 but none have been continued. However, I have been rereading some of my previous posts and noting that while some of the things I have written are still valid today, some of the things I would now revise.

But I will not go back and re-edit or delete anything. I will let it all stand - even if there be some I will find I regret having ever written. My life is only a work in progress - a progress that I hope to continue for many years yet. So I will write now about how I am now and, if any reader cares to point out places where I have, or appear to have, shifted my position I will either own to it or explain the apparent inconsistency.

Another reason for deserting the blog is that I have been concerned with a more academic, albeit necessarily often speculative, account of the history of the goddess Inanna from pre-history to the present day. It has involved much reading of the bible. I first typed "bile" there and this is perhaps a rather revealing Freudian typo. For much of the bible is undoubtedly bile - the bitter and twisted rantings of bitter and twisted men. Much is, however, very beautiful and wise, compassionate and loving. I had focused on the old men and forgotten that within the bath in which they wallowed was a very beautiful and wise baby, whom I was in danger of flushing away.

In short, I have been living inside my own head a lot. This has involved a large amount of emulating the ostrich as far as the events in the outside world are concerned. A lot of this is because I am, simply, often very frightened at the way the world, and my country in particular is going. I have chosen largely to ignore this fear and push it down along with the anger the fear has triggered.

So no word has been written about all this. In my attempts to be as academically rigorous as possible I have failed to acknowledge my own subjectivity. The result of this has been a severe writers block. I have probably written about this before - I do not want to go back and check, for that may well result in censorship, but before now I had lost all my confidence in my right to speak about anything.

But write I must. The only way to beat writer's block is to get into the habit of writing.

So it is back to blogging. I n0 longer really care if anyone reads me or not. If anyone does and agrees with me it will be gratifying to my ego. If they read me and think me a pillock I will try to meet that with equanimity. For, after all, my opinions are as ephemeral as those of anyone - some will die with me and some may change tomorrow and it doesn't really matter.

So, if anyone is reading this, I hope you will enjoy what is coming as much as I will enjoy writing it.

Website

Have not been doing much writing lately - nor updating the blog. The thing is that I hve been busy trying to master the software to get a website up. It now is - although by no means complete. Please visit it: http://www.houseofinanna.co.uk

Last night someting happened. I was talking to K and in the course of it I realised many things. Foremost among these was that I had forgotten the vision that took me to Hungary. The details of how I arrived at this are not really relevant - they were a synchronicity of events over which I had no control. But I felt a return of the vision, of the deep conviction that I had to move there; that there was work for me to do.

And the most important thing is that the work was largely unstarted by the time I left. For what happened was that I became overwhelmed at the scale of what I had seen and lost all confidence that I could even approach realising it. It seemed so damn big and I felt so damn small. Not only that but I felt frightened. i felt that I was hubristic, particularly as my own personal life was in such a mess -purely as a result of my actions. So I aimed small and tucked the vision into a neat little pocket in my consciousness where I always hide away the uncomfortable truths that I do not wish to face. And forgot it.

What became clear last night was, however, that this forgetting may have been a necessary part of the process. For I had to realise who I am and what I have been called to do. In order to do this, I had to aim low and fail. Now I know that I must aim high for only then can I hope to hit the distant target. I must remember the vision and keep that in my sights.

For the vision was real, and it still is. This is what I learned last night. It came to me; I did not seek it. It has, in different forms, been with me as long as I can remember. Sometimes, it has been clear and direct, as it was that day when I first went to Dobogöko and saw the Danube hundreds of metres below. Memories of a time when I had been there before flooded into me and I felt both at home and thorougly alien. It was strange and it was exhilarating. Until the doubts set in and I came face to face with my own imperfections - my petty hurts and grievances - and I enacted them. By turns grandiose and self-effacing, I struggled in the day-to-day and sank ever deeper into despair, losing all that I had previously held dear in the process. And returned, feeling defeated, to England.

The operative word here, however, is "feeling". For I was not, in fact, defeated. I am still here and yesterday realised that so is the vision. It has not gone. I cannot fully articulate it yet, but the time is soon approaching that I can. I will, Inanna willing, return to Hungary to take aim again. But I will be stronger and more determined; less limited by fear and uncertainty. I will own the vision and the source of that vision. For it did not come from me. I did not seek it. I fled it. But I could not escape it. Now I must learn to embrace it