First Noel

I'm still firmly in holiday mode, but taking a break from relaxing long enough to say that I'm doing so.

If Christmas is always as much of a just-plain-holiday, without the obligations, travel, slightly tense socialising and general pressure that I get the impression is sometimes part of the package, then I shall look forward to it in future. In this case, I have had my batteries thoroughly recharged, and look like getting more recharging done yet before the return to work.

It seems to be an excuse for indulgence, but the indulgence has been the good kind. The exchange of cards - and gifts even more so - is a kind of symbol of thinking about somebody, and means more than the surface would suggest. In a similar way, sharing a day which is made special by a conscious decision not to do anything which would spoil the holiday mood, is another rare and precious thing to share. And sharing is good.

To say more would be to spoil it.

Code

The weirdness of using a computer at work in an exclusive brethren company has largely worn off. Now, of course, the limitations and possibilities loom larger than the presence of the machine.

These things are business-orientated, as any brethren person who can justify the use of a computer outside work will be provided with a laptop of some kind, customised for their particular needs and more or less restricted depending on their status in the global hierarchy. That's my observation, anyway. However, the brethren are addicted to Soviet-style central planning, and the orientation and optimisation of the work computers is decreed by the provider. That makes them just exactly what is not quite required in each individual case. But that's OK - at least it's a step forward.

The biggest limitation is that there is no company-wide email system. Each machine is stand-alone from a system point of view, although they are networked if there is more than one, and the original rules said that only one per company should be able to handle email. That's been quietly forgotten, I think, but even so it's not sensible to have multiple machines using the same email addresses, as you'll never know what's stored on where. So if somebody needs an urgent reply, and other important business is being done on the computer with email facility, you're out of luck. Maybe others have worked round this.

Then of course there is the very limited set of applications. If what you want to do can't be done in either Word or Excel, you're probably out of luck again.

But that's where the possibilities start. To my surprise, having been unfamiliar with any Microsoft programs until the second half of this year, I find that a lot can be done. Things that I had thought were naïve requests requiring specialised or more powerful software, are actually feasible, if not necessarily easy.

About two weeks ago I discovered that Microsoft Office has its own programming language. Suddenly Excel can be made to act in any way I choose. It is possible to create new applications, virtually, that bear only a superficial resemblance to the original application, and the big problem of having no access to database software is bypassed. The help system wasn't installed, and a bit of code which goes wrong is liable to shut the application down rather than launch a debugger, but still it feels like the opening of a prison. And another new user even discovered that the help system can be installed, even as the application blocker has a message on screen to say you're not allowed to!

Obviously I'm no professional programmer or developer, but years of effort put into understanding arbitrary rules and cascading consequences in ordinary life seems to be a good preparation for the rigidly flexible world of basic computer code. It's working so far, anyway.

Christmas Approaching

If I'm honest, Christmas is approaching a little like a juggernaut. One full of good things, I'm sure, but still a bit scary to have bearing down on me at high speed.

I have noticed that many ex-brethren have at least an ambivalent attitude to the festivities. It's hard to feel truly part of something when so much of it seems to spring from memory and tradition. Children love Christmas, of course, but a good many adults seem to derive most of their sense of what it's all about from the experiences of their formative years. Brethren, of course, have none of that.

The brethren never have celebrated Christmas, so far as I know, following in the direct tradition of the puritans of Cromwell's time. It's a pagan festival, nothing to do with Christianity, is the doctrine. In recent years the negativity has only increased, and whereas in the past the work-free day was an excuse to get together with friends and family regardless of the reason for the holiday, the fact that the world outside is doing just that now means that the flock are strongly discouraged from doing any such thing. No get-togethers on the twenty-fifth, only on other days if you must.

So it feels odd to suddenly find myself in the wider world where it's important. I feel something of an imposter. A bit like an autistic person at a party, feeling little but frantically studying the people around me for clues to what I should be feeling and doing.

Those for whom this time of year is familiar and fun can have very little idea of the pressures of arriving at it without any preparation. There are expectations galore, and wherever there are expectations, there is an equal amount of potential for disappointing and upsetting people.

I look forward to the time when I've developed traditions of my own to lean on, a Christmas groove to slip comfortably into. For this year I'm very grateful that the requirements are few, the day is to be low-key, and people generally are likely to excuse any faux-pas as an understandable mistake by the alien at the festivities.

I bet my family and I will miss each other a lot on those free days, too. But that, I think, can't be cured.

Packaging Myself

I have now had several hints from the management at work that they are expecting me to leave, and requests for "something in writing" about my plans for the future, most recently on Monday this week.

That is, of course, of doubtful legality, and I have no intention of compromising my status by obliging on that one. Still, although they can't wish me away, I don't like to cause trouble, and they can make working conditions increasingly uncomfortable if they choose. Apart from the uncertainty, it's not a problem so far and everybody remains friendly, with a single exception. So the idea of a dispute remains unattractive. I'm not cut out for that kind of thing.

A wise person takes precautions, however, and this seems a good time to prepare my first ever CV.

What a painful process that is. I suspect I'd enjoy preparing someone else's, being creative about expressing all the great things they have to offer and finding positive ways of covering the rest. But my own is another matter. I keep looking at the task and shying away. This is not something brethren need or do, for a start, so I don't know the protocols and expectations, and besides, a life among the brethren does NOT look good on paper.

I do have good points, I promise. Firstly, from a business point of view, I am extremely adaptable and the fastest learner I know. Because of that, I have experience of most corners of business life. I've been in my current job for five-and-a-half years, and become quite responsible in the company. I've managed teams for projects all my working life, starting when I was only eighteen. Jobs are more efficient when I pass them on than when I took them over, because I like to refine and improve processes. I have a good working relationship with people in other companies and other countries. I'm not easily flustered and tend to think faster and better in a crisis. I'm good with words and visuals, so can present things well. Most useful of all, people mostly seem to like me on sight, which is puzzling but something for which I'm very thankful.

But there are negatives, too, and I tend to be very aware of those. The practical ones are not a problem in work, but are tricky on paper - for example, I have excellent academic results, but they stop abruptly at secondary level. That's harder to explain than poor results. Then there's the lack of non-brethren work experience, which means I'm likely to look clueless for a while in a normal environment, and causes problems with references. And the reason why I want a new job now is a difficult one to explain. Besides that, I have personal deficiencies (while I'm in honesty mode). I'm easily bored, so if something isn't challenging it tends not to get my full attention. And I also seem to seize new challenges before properly signing off the old ones, for the same reason. But the most worrying thing is my innate diffidence. I hate to push people in any way, and it often seems to be required. I get stressed when I feel I should be assertive, and become much less effective.

With all that, I also wonder who is actually going to be interested in this document. There are places for people with few qualifications, and challenging places, and places where consensus rather than competitiveness is rewarded, but the chances of finding all three in one seem very slim, and having them see and approve of my CV seems even slimmer.

It's a worry, I will say. Does the way the CV is fashioned affect the outcome? Are there avenues to fulfilling work that I should know about? How do others manage?

On a Lighter Note

... or eighty-eight of them.

Back in the summer, I thought my experience of music would change, and from playing my own with occasional chances to listen to "real" music, I would be able to listen whenever I liked. I knew I'd miss playing, but thought it would be quite easily manageable. It's not as though I do it well enough to please anyone but myself, and music doesn't exactly flow from my fingers.

However, although it's great to be able to have music accompanying my every move around the house, nearly four months is a long time without a touch of a piano, I find. That surprises me. I suppose there's nothing quite like it for relaxation purposes, because it requires ongoing attention - a demand to live in the moment.

So some of my much-needed cash has been allocated to rectifying the situation.

I am expecting delivery (just as soon as the carrier company and I get in sync, which may take a while) of a keyboard. In a perfect world, I would get a concert grand piano, and in a very nice world, I would get a secondhand upright piano. As things are, I have neither the space nor the available resources for the genuine item. Fortunately, having dabbled in recording before now, I know of a company who produce keyboards that feel very close to the real thing, and they are not too expensive. They have no speakers and no built-in sounds, but that's easily sorted. Everything else entertaining in my house goes through a little computer and a hi-fi amplifier, so the keyboard can too. Being a Mac, it comes with music facilities built in.

The next problem is that I left all my music books back at my old home, thinking I wouldn't be able to use them. Maybe a visit is due, if it's not too painful on all sides.

Not Always Positive

In the years when I spoke about leaving the brethren to family and friends, before doing so, I often said that I didn't expect the action to solve all my problems, that I didn't think life outside the fold was a paradise, and that I expected hard times and loneliness. And I meant that. I left without any rosy and romantic expectations.

But life is never what you expect, is it?

So, having expected the opposite, I've had an easy ride so far. The biggest difference has been in people. I thought I would encounter wariness, distant friendliness, lack of trust and trustworthiness, and, bluntly, people who'd be around when I can help them but not when they can help me. When among the brethren, you get kindness and support purely because of your membership of the community. Why would outsiders offer that level of friendship?

I've been pleasantly surprised. Not that I'm about to assume that everybody is as thoroughly decent as some have shown themselves to be, but at least this cold hard outside world has pockets of warmth that are not too hard to find.

That, especiallly, keeps me going through low moments - and yes, they do happen. Just last week I had one of those moments, a crisis of confidence of sorts, wondering whether I'd done the right thing or if I had managed to ruin my future by blindly making the most major change I could.

It started as a physical pang on my way home from work one day, at the point where I used to turn off for my old home. It was home, and it was warm and affectionate, with people who understood me, and I couldn't help asking myself whether anything at all is worth the price of giving that up. That's a very hard question to answer, and if I hadn't found affection elsewhere would be practically impossible.

Then there are my dreams of spending my life doing something I find worthwhile, rather than at a desk in a brethren office. Yes, anything is now possible in theory, but in practice life is still fairly tying. I no longer have artificial boundaries on my work activities, and could leave to pursue whatever I liked ... but I need money to live, and have an absurdly small set of verifiable abilities and qualifications, which means I shall probably have to come to terms with spending my days, at least for some while, doing something not so far from what I already do. In which case, why was I in such desperation to be gone?

The more I thought about it, the more it seemed that - with one or two admittedly big exceptions - the little things in life were going well, and the bigger things were still a problem. That neither the obstacles nor the benefits have really lived up to their billing. The biggest worry is over my own capabilities: at such times (in fact, whenever I think about it) I don't really believe I have what it takes to be a success. That's a personal thing, not the fault of my upbringing. I already knew I couldn't make a go of the brethren lifestyle, so it isn't as though I'm adapted to that at the expense of the outside world.

I have thought about going back. They would make everything very easy if I gave the slightest indication that I was tempted, and I dare say many things would be handed to me on a plate as a result. A returnee is always a feather in the cap that they're willing to pay for. All I would have to do is resign myself to known limitations instead of the unknown, and accept living a lie. Millions of people live a lie, as long as that life is otherwise comfortable.

But over the weekend, I realised what the difference now is. Without minimising the difficulties I've mentioned, they are MY problems. I solve them, or I fail to solve them, and either way they are in my hands to deal with. At low points, it's tempting to accept a course that leads to certain disappointment, purely because there will be something other than oneself to blame for it, rather than heading for a destination with one's fate in one's own hands. The possibility of failure can be more frightening than certainty.

I hope I would be strong enough to deal with those moments even if I had no support and was as alone as I thought I would be. As it is, I am carried through. Some things have gone better than I could have dreamed, and that makes me feel a hugely lucky person. With that kind of luck, and some determination, the impossible can become possible. I just wish I had more of that determination to call on.

Rational View

Before I move on from this deep and depressing area of consideration, psychoanalysing the brethren mindset, it would be fair to ask the question "what should the outsider make of all this?"

In one way, brethren doctrine is a minority interest, a trivial issue hardly worth the mental energy to understand, and of little significance to the wider world. Yet the effects touch many people very deeply, so it isn't just academic. For that reason, I think it's worth the effort I've put into explaining how the brethren think, even at the risk of appearing to excuse it. I'd like, though, to point out that reaching an understanding doesn't mean approving of the thing so painfully understood.

It has been a fascinating experience, disentangling myself from the group. Some things have slipped easily from my mind, and I think the time has passed when I could write feelingly about them from a present perspective. Others have become more starkly clear.

For example, I have been convinced for a long time that the brethren, as a group, can be usefully seen as a kind of living entity with a mind of its own and - more to the point - its own will to survive. It looks even more like that from the outside. Against my better judgement, I said as much to some brethren. It was quite revealing that they didn't object to that view, but thought it was reasonable.

So the question of whether their focus on purity is a reason or a rationale for separation has a nuanced answer. The important thing is that the group survives, from their point of view, and they'll acknowledge that. If you ask why, you'll get the purity answer, and if you ask how, you'll get the separation answer. Viewed from the outside, I think the reality is that survival is an end in itself, but I also think that survival is only possible with a reason they can believe in, and purity serves that purpose.

Separation is also a necessity for survival. The Exclusive Brethren beast is a highly specialised one, adapted to an environment that doesn't exist except in theory. It's a bit like one of those children born with no immune system, and consequently has to live in a sealed bubble. Does anyone really believe that the group could continue to exist in a recogniseable form if they dismantled their wall of isolation? The system is so allergic to modern ideas and values that it would die of shock. That, too, they will themselves admit, although they prefer to think of it as the fragility of precious fine art than sickliness.

Viewed that way, it doesn't look like a coincidence that the brethren built the metaphorical walls around their community so much higher and thicker just as the western world was turning so decidedly against Victorian values. The more the outside world becomes accepting of differences, and ethics takes over from traditional morals, the more they must emphasise their difference, and the more the stakes must be raised, to ensure their survival.

Obviously, then, the brethren have a very definite cause to indoctrinate their members to believe that anything and anybody not specifically approved by the system is harmful and dangerous. The sheer number of things that could undermine confidence in their beliefs and way of life is so enormous that it's sensible to cover the outside world with a a blanket ban.

None of this has anything much to do with religion, let alone Christianity. I think of it as social engineering, as I've said before, and I told some brethren that. Individual lives are shaped for a wider purpose which is officially religious, but it works the same with or without religion. Odd groups with unjustifiable ideas will only thrive by promoting fear of alternatives.

So nobody should feel picked-upon because of the brethren's attitude to them. They cannot afford to understand or like outsiders, because that understanding would imply acceptance of an alternative way of life. And if there was an alternative, who of them would settle for the life they have? When they call non-brethren "unclean", they mean that their thought patterns are vulnerable to infection by humane sanity. Any of us should be proud to be unclean by that definition. Of course they will rail against perversion and immoraility, but it's rationality they fear most.

All this may mark me out as a pessimist. I don't believe the brethren can change as much as I'd like without falling apart, and I am too aware of the vast trauma that would cause to sincerely wish for it. But seeing the brethren's attitudes as a trap they've fallen into rather than a choice they've made does let me see them as pitiable rather than as enemies.

Problems Getting to Utopia

While thinking about brethren doctrines, and how little sense they make when removed from their context and culture, I concluded that the key doctrine, that of "separation", is perhaps more helpfully viewed as a symptom of a more general pattern of thought.

The brethren believe both in the desirability of earthly perfection, and that it can (and should) be attained.

Without being at all educated about these things, I suspect this belief puts them outside mainstream Christian thought. I'm not qualified to say much on the subject, so I won't get into the theological side. What is more to the point is how that belief influences their behaviour.

Most obviously, it provides the background to separation. In this wider view, that rationale for separation from the world translates as "WE are on the road to perfection and YOU are in the way."

In the brethren's view, there is, in the abstract, an ideal company of people who embody everything God wishes from humanity, with no flaws to spoil it. It is their duty to become that company, and in a sense they believe that they are filling the position already by virtue of their awareness of the duty. Complete purity in all the individuals, as well as the group as a whole, is not just a goal but a minimum standard. To brethren, talking about compassion and love without first having achieved that purity is a devilish distraction from the primary obligation.

That means that anything which even appears to compromise that theoretical purity must be cut off. Even if that "thing" is a loved one. Purity comes first, and compassion next.

It also explains to some extent the regular rule changes. It's like a management goal: all the time, the management asks whether the current policies are helping the company to reach purity, and if they aren't, they must be changed. If, like me, you think that purity is, by definition, out of reach, you won't be surprised that the policies never do get them any nearer and must therefore be changed pretty much constantly.

At the individual level, everyone is very much aware that the aim is perfect purity, and they wouldn't be human if they didn't feel oppressed by that awareness. Looking in one direction, they feel superior because they have such an exalted goal and are part of such a programme, and looking in the other, they feel guilty that they don't measure up. They can't let down their guard, ever, in case they're seen to be the ones holding up progress. It's a recipe for hypocrisy, repression of self, enormous peer pressure.

In addition, the personal side is complicated by the fact that they believe there is always one man on earth who has achieved this purity. It means they have to accept their culpability for not coming up to scratch themselves, for a start. And it also makes the aim somewhat confusing; perfection may already be impossible, but when the goalposts keep moving because it's defined by the foibles of a human being, it becomes impossibility squared. No wonder brethren seem bedeviled by split personalities at times.

A Great Gulf Fixed

As time goes by, one of the things I notice most is the mutual incomprehension between people who have experience of the brethren and people who don't. I think that comprehensibility gap is the main reason why ex-brethren feel the need to stay in contact with other ex-brethren.

But it works both ways. I found myself attempting to explain to various brethren at different times recently just how hard it is to make anyone on the outside see any merit at all in their separation doctrine, and I don't think any of them believed me. The assumption is that any right-thinking person would have to acknowledge the moral superiority of their position, once explained, even if they couldn't face taking that position themselves.

That does provide an answer of sorts to those who claim the whole thing is a cynical front, and none of them really believe what they claim to believe they do, at least to the extent they've allowed themselves to consider the matter.

Obviously this is a bit of a test issue in their dealings with me. So they are keen to know what I think about separation, even if they can't actually take it in. It makes for an odd conversation.

What I was trying to tell them was that it's hard enough explaining to outsiders that my family don't have anything to do with me, yet still have affection for me (so far as I know), and convincing them that the two things are not totally incompatible with each other, without also trying to explain that Christianity is the reason for the oxymoron. To everybody else on the planet, the attitude and resulting actions are so far from Christian principles that it sounds like a joke. So in actual fact, my own thoughts on the subject weren't relevant; I was talking about the effort involved in making allowances for the brethren to others.

This does seem to disturb them, even though brethren doctrine says that the unspiritual will never be able to understand the spiritual.

The specifics of separation in my case are put firmly back on me. I have left them, so the barrier is my fault. I can't expect to turn my back on everything that's good and right and still expect them to treat me with open affection. In a sense, of course, they're right, because I did take the step knowing that's what they'd do. But even so, the choice is theirs of how to treat me - whether they put more confidence in the person or the moral code. The fact that I had a pretty good idea which they'd choose doesn't mean I made the choice for them. Still, if they feel better that way, I'll let them have that bit of comfort.

It's the general case that is more fascinating. Surely, they say, even worldly Christians don't think it's good to associate themselves with just anybody, whatever their morals? And broadly, I reply, that's true, though true Christians would be prepared and ready to help others whatever the person's spiritual condition, if not to associate themselves with their morals. So what if you find that someone has been doing something evil, and you've been associating with them, they ask. Well, I say, that's been known to happen within the brethren. What's the difference? That's an easy one for them: any such people are dealt with as only the brethren can, and they'll have nothing more to do with them. And, I ask, do they suppose that other people don't change their attitudes in a similar way when they find something truly abhorent in somebody? Isn't the only unique aspect of the brethren that they presume in advance that everybody outside the circle is associated with evil? And how is that a Christian attitude?

This is where it gets sore. The master touchstone is brought into play: if I don't think it's right to do that, what do I imagine the scripture in second Timothy means? "If anyone purify himself from these, in separating himself from them".

I have my thoughts on that. But I have no interest in debating interpretations. More to the point, I say, if their favoured interpretation of a single piece of the bible conflicts with everything that is generally held to be Christian, isn't it just possible that interpretation is mistaken?

At this point it dawns on them that what we have here is a difference of opinion. I think it's an odd experience for them, especially if the conversation isn't heated.

Well, they say, The Truth is The Truth. And I agree. One piece of wisdom I have from my grandfather is that the truth and what one believes are not necessarily the same thing. Their complete conviction that they are the only ones in step doesn't, in itself, prove their rightness. But still they remain rooted to the ideological spot.

And just how much sense does any of that make to a normal human being, someone with common humanity and ethics? The strange thing is not so much that the brethren can't explain why it is more important for them to hold on to a theoretical purity than to soothe real hurt, but that they can't see why they should. For them, the burden of proof falls on the unbelievers and heretics who deny what should be obvious.

The fact that an overwhelming majority of people think differently is of no importance. That majority hasn't had the benefit of being shown the right way. Consequently, they're given slightly more credit than those of us who do know and understand what the brethren believe, yet don't agree. That's unforgiveable, and is the real reason why we must remain sundered from them.

Times Again

I've already looked before at the difference in amount of spare time before and after leaving the brethren. After another relaxing weekend, I was in the mood to go through the calculations again - I'm never averse to a counting of blessings. In this case the blessings have been reckoned on a weekly basis.

My old schedule was never the most arduous compared to brethren in other areas, so it might be a useful guide to the lower limits of brethren time-management. For example, although work-times are getting more and more standardised, mine is still on the lenient side, and I don't have to go as far as some to get there. Similarly, journey times to meetings were almost as low as anywhere in the world.

So firstly there are some things which haven't changed.

Sleep takes up approaching thirty percent of my life (depending how I feel, that could be a scary thought or a cosy one). That hardly counts, so the remainder can be called "waking time".

Work and associated activities accounts for something over forty percent of my waking life, which isn't too bad, considering. I bet a lot of people, brethren included, spend more than half their time on work. I'll call what's left over "personal time".

Then, in my old brethren life, came meetings (the brethren's version of church-going, which is less formal and more insistent). I've included the enforced socialising in this, as it tends to all roll in together as part of a routine. That used to take up around a third of my personal time.

Beyond that, I'm guessing random compulsory activities accounted for another two or three hours per week on average, and again that's a low estimate because I always counted fewer things to be compulsory than many others.

Then into the realms of the theoretical as far as I was concerned. Reading the bible and ministry of various kinds was supposed to take three hours per day for males of responsible age. In my case, the real figure was never quite zero because I still look up scriptures when I think of them, but the time taken would barely register on the brethren scale. Come to that, I suspect only retirees would devote the full three hours to the bookshelves. If somebody in my position fufilled their duties to that extent, almost half their remaining time would be accounted for.

Already there is very little time left in the week, and what time remains is hardly useable for any personal activities because it's spread through the week in fragments - and I haven't taken all the other day-to-day things out of it, such as mealtimes, washing, all the human necessities.

What made me revisit this - and I'm sorry that I seem to be rehashing old postings instead of bringing out new revelations - was that I've had a few days which seem to have been mostly defined by deciding NOT to do things, and it makes a blissful change. I still have obligations, and probably have very little more absolutely free time than I had before. But if I decide not to go shopping today, the only consequence might be a bit less choice for lunch tomorrow. If I decided I couldn't spare the time for a meeting, I'd have had no end of concerned questions.

Some people seem to like having their life organised for them that way. It's been mentioned to me as one of the benefits I'm leaving behind. As far as I'm concerned, they're welcome to it.

Tribal II

I'm sure I've made similar comments before, but I have been thinking about the brethren in cult-like terms since it has been mentioned several times recently.

I don't much like the word "cult" in this context, not so much because it's inaccurate as because it is one of those words which comes with a whole lot of baggage attached, and using it means an audience immediately makes a set of assumptions which may or may not be helpful, and that discourages closer attention to the facts. So for that reason I prefer to stay out of the "are the brethren a cult?" debate.

That's why my preferred word is "tribal" when I'm thinking about the aspects of brethren life that just sort of happen, and I think of "social engineering" when considering the aspects that are managed. Notice that there is no hint of religion in either term.

Recent events have reinforced my previous conclusion that the defining characteristic of the brethren is their "us and them" attitude. What counts, to the exclusion of anything else, is "us". For a start, this is noticeable in their interpretation of all the traditional Christian teaching about being good to others: the only others who count are those who are part of "us", and it's absurd to think of loving one's worldly neighbour as oneself. It's almost like racism, in that anything can be excused because the others are in some vague but real way not considered to be people but something a little lower than that. And any goodness seen outside is like the proverbial dancing bear, remarkable in that it exists rather than on its own merits.

So inside opinions and feelings are all that count in everyday life. That's enough to make brethren dress and behave distinctively, for instance, as the possibility of being seen to be out of line by one fellow-member is enough to outweigh being definitely wondered at by any number of non-brethren. For most, it's not an inner certainty that the behaviour is the only right way that governs what they do, but simple peer pressure. That doesn't always work to the hierarchy's advantage, naturally, because trivial things often become "the thing to do" whether or not they're approved, in the way that fads spread in any community, and sometimes control needs to be seized back by means of some kind of decree.

I sometimes wonder what proportion of the brethren are really convinced by the lifestyle and doctrines, and have a feeling that a majority secretly suspect they're the only fraud among a crowd of genuine believers. That, of course, only magnifies the urge to fit in at any cost. People often take the most drastic actions when they suspect others are right to accuse them of not really believing.

Getting Real

Without any doubt at all, I have experienced an attitude shift. It hurts, really, and I am thankful that I have loving support elsewhere, and that I am able to step back and regard the process as a fascinating education, intellectually, which helps with the emotional side.

It seems that the brethren, and particularly those who remain relatively close, are beginning to accept, at last, that I am not likely to return. What surprises me a bit is how personally they take it. Their beliefs are so entwined with their self-image that they cannot conceive that a rejection of their lifestyle might not be a rejection of them personally. Saying so is wasted because they can't take it in and hardly seem to hear it.

Last night I was treated to a lengthy analogy of my situation when I spoke about not knowing where the boundaries of contact were. Suppose, I was told, I was married and conducted an adulterous affair. Would I expect my wife to treat me the same as before and happily share the time I could spare her from my affair? Or even greet me cordially and continue to share news?

They hastened to say, of course, that they didn't see me that way, but it left a nasty feeling that it wouldn't take much for it to go in that direction.

That analogy reveals a lot, I think. For brethren, it is impossible to share a person without sharing their opinions. Their opinions, in some sense, are who they feel themselves to be. If I engage in some activity they do not approve of, it seems to remain their business whatever my stated position, because they somehow feel each action is taken against them. So this recent development is apparently a result of me choosing to socialise with non-brethren - it doesn't matter that my only choices for socialising are non-brethren or nobody. My choice of non-brethren is felt to be a specific and hurtful rejection of the brethren.

That, then, appears also to justify being hurtful in return, in the painful and semi-spiteful way that people who deep down love each other can be when they feel slighted.

It does show how powerless I am to make things better from my side. If my life, lived normally, morally and enjoyably by common standards, is a continual prodding of the brethren's sore points, no amount of soothing words from me will change how they feel. If I knew - for sure - that disappearing from sight would make them feel better, I'd do it, however painful it would be to experience complete shut-out. But still I'm unsure what to do for the best.

Equine Extravaganza

Chalk up one more of the things brethren never do. I went to a sort of circus on Saturday. I don't know that such a thing has ever occurred to me before.

I say "sort of" circus; it was a horse-based affair, and I was expecting stunning trickery on horseback in a big top. And I was partly right. But in any case, it was obviously pure entertainment, with no moral value, and as such is something that's only newly OK in my life. I can't imagine what harm anyone would see in such a thing, really, except that you are sharing that entertainment with a large crowd, and it could hardly be called essential to life, watching people ride horses cleverly.

Actually, it was less a show and more a drama. I couldn't help feeling that it would have been better if they hadn't tried to force a structure onto what they did, particularly as the structure frequently collapsed under the strain. There were as many human dancers as horses, including a ballerina, which was not unwelcome but not what I was expecting, and a kind of multiple story.

It started as a bit of Greek mythology, in which a fallen muse (the ballerina) seeks Pegasus so as to regain ... something or other I didn't quite follow, but it was very important. Meanwhile an evil spirit tries to get in first. The ballerina needed to understand the mind and spirit of "the horse" before she could find Pegasus, and that justified, dramatically, people making their horses dance and do tricks. Which they proceeded to do. I'm no horse person, so I probably wasn't as impressed as I could have been, but I could see how well it was done while having some grasp of how difficult it was.

It was a bit harder to see how the mythical story justified Spanish dancing with horses, and a Dad's Army WWII interlude with a comic horse the size of a large dog, but, hey, it's all part of the show.

I was also keen on some of the costuming: Pegasus was impressive, and the evil spirit was great, a dragon supported by three people and constructed from deliberately tatty black fabric so that it looked only partly there, with a mouth that swung open and closed in time to the thumping music. Combined with a smoke machine and plenty of coloured spotlights, it worked very well.

And we did get the tricksy horseriders after the interval. Mongolians, apparently, who swung dizzyingly in and out of their saddles at the gallop, sometimes backwards or underneath the horse, sometimes two to one horse and other times one person standing on two horses. In one case, all the other horses galloped under one of the rider's legs while he straddled a pair of them. So I didn't feel short-changed. The drama was fun, but it would have been disappointing if that had been all.

I'm struggling to think of a brethren connection here to justify writing about this, but who cares. I can't even get too interested in why it would be so wrong for them to attend such an event.

Ups and Downs

Early this morning I was feeling very positive, as I have done for days. Life is good on the whole, although naturally there are worries and sadnesses. Last night I discovered friends living closer to me than anybody else I know, and had a long catch-up chat. The road ahead was looking bathed in a springtime glow, in spite of the season.

Then I was shocked to be asked at work whether it had been my car in a pub and restaurant carpark on the way home the previous Friday. Of course it was, and I said so (my car is quite noticeable). A non-brethren colleague retired last week after fourteen years with the company, and the other non-brethren staff joined him for a drink and a general wishing of luck in his retirement, me included.

Apparently this was bad.

I was mystified and quite disturbed to be asked how such an activity fitted in to the brethren principles, and answered that I thought it was understood that there were many of those principles I had deliberately left behind me. It seems that saying so, and being seen to follow through with actual real behaviour, are two different things. More disturbing than that was that I had the feeling that it wouldn't have been so bad if it had been any other non-brethren I was socialising with, but the fact it had been work colleagues was a kind of betrayal of an unspoken apartheid. I had the distinct feeling of having been recatagorised from "us" to "them". Obviously I had always intended that, in a way, but it still wasn't a very nice feeling.

So, triggered by something as innocuous as that, it may be that my time as a comfortable honorary member of the brethren, treated with the same old familiarity and friendliness as before, is coming to an end. If I consort with non-brethren staff, I cannot occupy the same office as the brethren staff, and my desk must move. Because of that, my job role will have to alter as I will no longer be in the thick of the daily goings-on.

Actually, that's no bad thing. I hated joining the main office, anyway, as I don't work best surrounded by other people. What's more, the tasks that rely on me being among everybody else are the ones that most annoy me and stop the serious work getting done. And the alternative work area has prettier views.

Still, it leaves a bad taste, only slightly masked by the way that the remainder of the day carried on as cheerfully and normally as ever. I think wisdom would dictate that I begin speeding up the trawl for alternative work, and I will see what next week holds.

Test of Separation

Yesterday my newspaper reported a survey in which seventy-five percent of the British population said that they didn't get enough hugs.

Well, I can't say I'm surprised. That never applied in my parents' home, though. A day without a hug was rare, even though I often had the impression we were unusual in that respect. We were a close family, and I imagine they still are.

Notice that last sentence. "We" followed by "they". It's been three months now, and that doesn't get any easier. I've had regular visits from brethren, and have been told that the visiting stream would be more or less continuous if I hadn't told them I needed some time and space to myself, but the people I care for most have stayed away, with three exceptions. I've had the feeling that it wasn't for me to push, that if they wanted contact, they'd come to me, and if I tried to force the issue then they'd back away. I don't want to cause trouble for people I love, so I've kept low-key. Besides, some of the family, I know, find the situation so painful that I'm not sure whether seeing me in my changed position would make it better or worse.

But this week, I've been encouraged twice. A broad hint came my way on my birthday that those I've been worrying most about are waiting for me to call as much as I've been waiting for a signal it's OK. Then my last pair of brethren visitors said that they didn't think anyone would ever have the right to stop me seeing my family.

To me, that's a new doctrine for the brethren. It's also only part of the answer, because if my family find it too painful, seeing me, I still won't want that. Still, it's good news.

The signs appear to be, taken together, that I ought to be able to enjoy a near-normal relationship with those I care for who have remained behind the fortress wall. I'm having trouble believing that as, if so, I'll be the first person ever in the history of people leaving the brethren to achieve such a relationship - and what a long and tangled history that is. I still think that there will be reasons and circumstances to prevent much contact, especially any kind that shows affection. However, I am feeling bolder about applying the test. A hug would be nice, but I'd settle for friendly chat.

Sympathy Deficiency

Something has been puzzling me for a while, and it has just turned the corner to being disturbing. A subject which keeps cropping up is a negative one: sickness and death, and attitudes to it.

What's disturbing is not the subject itself, nor the fact of it occurring, but that there is a difference in my feelings on the subject and others', and that has only just become apparent to me.

What I am beginning to realise is that the brethren are very unusual in being quite matter-of-fact about this whole area. For brethren, there is nothing extraordinary about illness, or hospital visits, or dying. That's not to say that they're callous about suffering - far from it - but just that the emotion is rarely anywhere near overwhelming, and it is more usually considered a sad but expected part of life. This seems so normal to me that it has come as a shock to realise that such things are viewed very differently here on the outside.

I like to think I'm fairly sensitive. That may be somewhat self-deluding, but still it was sad to discover that I wasn't showing the proper degree of sympathy to somebody about to have a hip replacement. To me, this was one of those things which calls for a kind of "I see, well, good luck - I hope it all goes well" reaction. I know dozens of people who've had hip replacements - know them personally, I mean. It's routine surgery these days, and in all those cases I've never heard of any complications. One old lady I know had her surgery under local anaesthetic and insisted on viewing the old joint before the medical people threw it away, just to see if it was anything like the illustration in a children's book on the body.

Apparently, though, this was serious surgery, the kind which warrants special visits and care and compassion for the family. Of course it does, you may say, but it's the attitude behind it which seems so different to me. In my old world, all that would follow, but more because somebody will be missing from their family for that brief time, and then because they'll need a hand doing some things afterwards ... not because it's something scary and unknown. Real worry levels are reserved for things like brain and cancer surgery.

Then it was also disturbing to confess in conversation that I've been to so many funerals in my life that sometimes my first reaction (quickly and ashamedly suppressed) has been annoyance at the time needed in a busy life to attend it, and find that this was an utterly shocking thing to feel, never mind admit to.

I've been trying to tease out where the difference lies.

Partly, I think, it's to do with sheer familiarity. The more I consider the matter, the more important that seems to be. The other aspect is the religious faith, which says that anyone dying has gone to a better place and a happier condition, and that bodily suffering is good for the soul and a sign of God's love. That has to be significant, and it is. Many people have been comforted by that belief as they are struggling to overcome sudden gaps in their lives.

But still, it is familiarity which brings contempt. The thing is, that if you know around five hundred people very well indeed, and spend a large part of your life around them, with a few thousand more as acquaintances and a grapevine covering a yet wider circle, you will inevitably rub up against sickness and death in many forms, and very regularly. It's hard to maintain emotional depth in such circumstances, and only sudden untimely death or particularly grisly illness or special closeness or cuteness can boost the impact to levels that the relatively protected outsider would consider normal. I've no doubt that the medical profession suffers the same dulling of sensitivity.

It's a confusing problem. I feel privileged in many ways to have experienced so much of life in that respect, and to have made my peace with death knowing exactly what it means and looks like, besides having seen human fortitude at close quarters and learned from it. I hadn't realised there was a cost, but evidently there is, and I now have a dulled capacity for sympathy, which is hard to accept.

Probably only time will allow me to strike the balance better.

Celebrations

It's been a while. You know how it is: man leaves restrictive religion, man gets plenty of free time to obsess over what he's done and why, months pass and other interests take over, man gets less and less of that free time and more and more other things to think about. Well, maybe that's generalising too much.

Still, yesterday was a birthday, and that's a good point to take stock.

My birthday used to be a big thing back when I was small, and my parents provided wonderful gifts, cakes and low-key parties with friends. But among the brethren, birthdays are frivolous events for children, and celebrating them is a bit suspect even if not actually forbidden. I'm not sure how much of my attitude is left over from that, but I can't much be bothered with the anniversary of the day I was born. It seems very arbitrary as a celebration. One day a while ago it occurred to me that it would be much more meaningful to celebrate my ten-thousandth day alive, and I was most annoyed to discover that I'd thought of it two months too late.

Digressing a little, I have a similar problem with Christmas. I get the impression a lot of ex-brethren feel the same - that it's a kind of plastic occasion, composed of cloying sentiment, compulsory fun and tacky accessories. That's how it looks from outside, though I can accept that it's special for some people, especially if they have family traditions. I imagine that my activities this year will take their cue from friends and people special to me, and I will enjoy them for their sake, and maybe learn to get enjoyment myself. A minor hurdle.

That was a little like this birthday. Left to myself, I would have let it pass unnoticed, not liking to be the focus of attention, but others helped to make a little occasion of it and I was very touched.

On Saturday four of us met at my place and had mini cakes (complete with candles!) and some champagne I had been saving, before taking a bus to a Guy Fawkes celebration. That's another thing that brethren frown upon, and consequently I had worked for some years in this little village, and heard a lot about its locally-legendary bonfire, without ever having been. It's even more popular than I thought it was, and my decision to take the bus was definitely justified by the scary queues of cars waiting to park miles from the village. We were blessed with mild clear weather, and it was well worth going, I thought. Hopefully the others felt the same.

The village is a real one, with a green and a stone church, and a bridge you cross to get in, and all the little details you expect to see on a postcard or in one of those heritage magazines. Every year the villagers build a bonfire about forty feet high (it used to be bigger before health and safety rules), and put a stuffed guy on top while thousands of people watch, then a procession of people with torches light the thing. All quite impressive, especially when the guy explodes. There is also a very entertaining firework display, with quirky little touches such as dedicated individual fireworks paid for by people happy birthdays, loving memories etc. A lot is in the atmosphere, which is really good. Obviously a lot of people do enjoy it, because they announced that thirty thousand pounds' worth of display is paid for by the car park charges and catering, while voluntary donations raised twenty-five thousand for local charities the previous year. Not bad at all.

OK, so Saturday was the wrong day, but that was my celebration, and it's more than I've done for years. In the two days since, I've had a relaxing time, so it felt like a three-day birthday at least. All very special, more special than I can say. The world has some lovely people in it.

Holiday Snaps

I haven't been eager to cross-promote my activities, to use the marketing jargon, but this seems like a reason to link two of them. Some may know that I have an alternative site based around my pictures, and those who care to see where I've been can look at the following:

Perpignan Photo Gallery

At least there's no obligation, unlike the traditional holiday photo slideshow!

Attitude Update

Well, the blog hasn't died yet. I think it may be more a case of easing off and mentally recalibrating its content.

It's been three months since I stopped going to the brethren's meetings, and by the time the quarter-year in my own home has passed, I will be another year older. Although life continues to move fast, I am beginning to feel as though the routine aspects are getting under control, and I no longer have to expend quite so much mental effort just on scheduling.

These days I don't throw so much veg away, and since I discovered steaming (which suits single-person cooking very well, as does a frying pan), I've hardly used frozen veg either. I've been gently shown that laminate floors are better wiped than vacuumed. And the ironing board is much better near the stereo, even if it is less than ideal to have it in the living room. Somehow or other all the jobs that need doing get done in the gaps of time there are.

I think, too, that after this month ends I will have a good idea of my monthly finances. I've been logging all my outgoings, and categorising them (a chore, but vital right now), so that now the initial frightening pile of expenses has receded, I can see what it really costs to live. That, in turn, allows me to plan sensibly for the future.

There seems to be a reasonable sum left after essentials, which is just as well because I have a good many things to save for. That's where the planning will soon have to start. Work, travel, buying property instead of renting. Expensive things, and there will need to be trade-offs.

Besides, now the big leap from brethren to ex-brethren has happened, and I haven't cracked under the strain (my osteopath told me the tension she's been used to treating is almost gone), I should be turning my attention to new and positive achievements. Maybe posting them here will help to make them goals instead of dreams.

Nearing the End?

It may be time to face facts and realise that my blog is dying.

This writing has always been a cathartic activity, with posts forming themselves out of concerns and thoughts that would otherwise keep rushing around my brain with no exit. It has also been emotional, and solitary, as it has been a journey that to a large extent had to be travelled alone.

Now, to my surprise, I find that there are good people in the world, people who can be true friends, who can have a call on my time and a tug at my thoughts, and be a fulfilment in themselves. I shouldn't be surprised, and on a surface level I'm not, but somewhere deep down I did think I was solitary, and that I would always feel a little outside the happy enjoyment that others seem to get together. It isn't so.

But with my thoughts on happier things, it's harder to feel strongly enough to post entries about my old life, and the new life involves others and is therefore more private. I have to ask myself on that account what purpose the blog serves. Is it worth continuing? Will it dwindle, as appropriate topics occur to me less and less often, or should I just move on? The questions may well answer themselves, but it's something to ponder.

Guilt Trip

Some days ago, I thought I would write about guilt, responding to a comment that made me realise what a key component it is in brethren life, and just how much it can hang on afterwards.

Since then, life has been busy in a number of ways. Obviously I have had to catch up with assorted chores that didn't get done while I was away. I have also been writing about last weekend while it's fresh in my mind. Above all, though, I have been savouring real life. And real life is an obstacle course without a map, or any kind of instructions. I have been navigating by feel.

That, rather than adherence to a given doctrine, has always been my guide. My concept of - for want of a better word - sin, has generally revolved around damage to others, although I wouldn't be so foolish as to restrict it to that. I am deeply uncomfortable with acts that hurt people. And that uncomfortableness, watched for, acts as my guide to moral behaviour. I dare say many people would say the same, however they identify it, and that's the basis of what Christians know as the conscience. So, for me, long experience has told me that there are many things I have been told are wrong which don't give me that signal, and I find I am unable to take such teachings seriously. Consequently I am untroubled by guilt when I ignore those teachings, except in so far as the actual crossing of the boundary hurts somebody who feels differently.

My observation suggests that there are many ex-brethren who have found that difficult. I'm not sure why.

Brethren morality is very firmly rooted in authority. Right and wrong are too important to be left to individual judgement, and are decided somewhere on high and handed down. As a result, the first among sins is disobedience - not necessarily the most evil of sins, but the one that gets the most attention. So brethren grow up with a sense that not doing as they're told is inherently wrong, and there are so many things they are told that there must always be something they are falling short in. And therefore there is a constant low-level feeling of guilt at all times, ready to ripen into a more severe emotion whenever some rule is definitively flouted. To quote a saying from a film last night: "Beat your wife every morning. If you don't know why, she does." That, apart from the violence, fits with the brethren's mindset.

The tendency, when removed from the obligation to pay attention to this multitude of rules, is to go one of two opposite directions: either throw out everything one has ever been taught, or keep it lurking in the background. The first is dangerous, and the second damaging, yet the middle course is a very difficult balancing act. Obviously some brethren teachings have a sound moral basis, and are useful and important as a guide to life. Many don't, and aren't. It's one thing to decide in one's head which is which, and another to really feel it, so as to be comfortable with the difference, and that is complicated by long indoctrination that one ought always to feel a bit guilty about something, because one cannot be already perfect.

I suppose, in my case, that is the virtue of having come to leaving by a long and gradual route. I suspect that the suddenness of the change made life very difficult for many. But as for me, I can honestly say that the only thing which brings guilty feelings in me is knowing that my family are hurt by the fact that I feel differently. And really, I wouldn't want to harden my heart to that one because it would mean losing my understanding of them.

Back from a Short Holiday

Where to begin? What to include? How much is relevant?

Difficult questions. Nobody likes to hear unending tales of somebody else's holiday, and besides, my purpose here is to document my view of brethren life and my leaving of it, not just pour out anything and everything of what I do. Having agonised that far, I will say that I feel much richer for having been away. There are parts of life that were closed to me, aspects I only dimly knew existed, and taking a leap for a few days into a different area helps to open up the doors of perception, even if it isn't long enough to allow any claim of deep experience.

I said I was visiting the south of France. Having been, I would say that I have visited Catalonia. The signposts are in two languages, and point to Andorra and Barcelona rather than anywhere obviously French. It's a region that I can't imagine any brethren ever going to, though, even if some do live across the Spanish border.

Our base was in the centre of Perpignan, in a little street I suppose (somewhat naively) is typical of a thriving modernised medieval city on the Mediterranean. In other words, narrow, paved, with old tall buildings each side, painted assorted colours. Shutters, some open, some closed, on the windows, and balconies and roof-gardens stuffed with various items of inhabitation and festooned with washing. Oh, and wires strung all over the place. The apartment was kindly provided by a friend, and acted more as a sleeping quarters than anything more as it was stripped for redecoration. That adds to the fun, of course. My companion's mother lives mere yards away as the crow flies, on the top of the opposite side of the street, so her place was easily accessible for meals and relaxation - easily, that is, if you like stairs.

Oddly, that bit felt quite natural. I have slept in empty houses before when staying away, as weekend-long special meetings among the brethren often require every spare space to be used.

I won't detail everything we did, but anyone interested can always look up the following:

- Le Canigou
- Grotte des Grandes Canalettes
- Abbaye Saint-Martin du Canigou
- Villefranche
- Palais des rois de Majorque
- Arab Market
- The museum in the Castle
- Petit bus
- Canet plage

Besides all that touristy activity, there was a good bit of sociable relaxation, and one meal for the friends and extended family of my companion's mother. That took place in one of the friends' restaurant on the beachside at Canet ... while the Rugby world cup semi-final between England and France was showing on a big screen. Now that, one way and another, is a long way from being brethren-style fun. Good, though, even though I can't work up much enthusiasm for the game itself.

And, above all, it was just better than I can say to get away from everything, and enjoy good company, silly and serious talk, and get to know somebody outside the normal routine of life. That, then, is what a holiday is. I can recommend it.

Weekend in France

Well, in a real departure (in more ways than one), I am off in the morning for a weekend in the south of France. As far as I recall, I have never had a pure holiday before. How deprived I've been.

Holidays are not a brethren feature, just as fun and pleasure aren't. Everything must have a purpose, and enjoyable trips are always disguised as business, self-improvement in the form of attending special meetings, or fact-finding missions. The idea of going somewhere just because you need a break is an alien one, to be squashed if it ever shows itself. Unless the break is one required for health, of course, in which case cash will be found for the person concerned to be placed in the best possible treatment centre.

A few years ago a document was written which rapidly became part of brethren scripture, setting out the requirements for what might be termed active engagement in the fellowship. Although, having looked back at it since, I saw that it was actually quite reasonable in its demands where they were specific, there were ominous ambiguities in the language which meant I would have nothing to do with it. When all responsible males were encouraged to commit to the document publicly - encouraged to the point of obligation, at least - I held back and made clear that I would not do so. That meant I was removed from the list of people available for consideration for travel or meetings outside the normal routine, which worried me not at all. My lack of concern was considered strange in itself, as such meetings are the equivalent of holidays among the brethren, even though they're actually more stressful than daily life.

A year or two later, my suspicion was justified. Suddenly it became totally unacceptable for brethren from other countries to visit France. Apparently this is mostly because of the French attitude to "sincere Christians", which makes travel to France a deliberate trip into The World, but the culture probably doesn't help. The astonishing thing about this sudden ban was that it was tied to the document I have just mentioned. In spite of having absolutely nothing in it which could be interpreted as having anything to say about visiting particular countries, disapprovingly or otherwise, it was held to be so obvious to any well-meaning person that travel to France was incompatible with the said document, that having done such travelling suddenly required public repentance.

I kind of expected a steady broadening of the rules based on any piece of writing taken so seriously. But this brazen non-sequitur of a commandment took my breath away.

So, no France for brethren, unless they have a really cast-iron reason.

But I'm going anyway, as my travelling companion's mother lives there, and I have no guilt whatsoever. What a stupid rule.

Social Music

I'm still feeling a little bit fuzzy from a succession of late nights. All the reasons were different - they weren't all parties! Last night, for instance, I appeared to have the opportunity of getting to bed early, and then my doorbell rang at about quarter to ten, with official visitors. Not to worry, I have a holiday coming up fast.

Friday night was especially fascinating, as I went to an Acoustic Music Club evening with a friend who performs there. As brethren evening get-togethers often seem to end up as acoustic music clubs, in effect, it made for an intriguing comparison.

The main difference, I suppose, was that in this case, the music was the point of the gathering, and everybody who was squeezed into the function room in the upstairs of a pub was there either to play or listen. For brethren, the music is just an expected part of a social gathering. Organisation and expectation tends to kill music when that's the basis. On Friday night we all faced forward and paid attention while a compere announced each performer, and they had two songs each. Brethren wouldn't think of doing it that way: it's often a struggle to get the first person to play anything, but once anyone gets going, they usually continue until there is some reason to stop, while social activity happens around them.

Thinking about it, brethren have an ambivalent relationship with music. On the one hand there is the general belief that anything enjoyable which isn't spiritual is wrong to at least some degree, and on the other there is the tradition that music belongs to God. That's a tension which makes a certain kind of oscillating approval pretty much inevitable. Singing, by brethren doctrine, is "transport" and also fellowship, and therefore hymns are a good thing. Other music has to take its chances depending on the taste of the people whose taste matters.

Back when I was much younger, with a mid-western American leadership, country was in, jazz was out, and classical was suspicious. Anyone who enjoyed classical music was too cerebral to be spiritual. Every child who could summon up the smallest amount of ability to play notes in approximately the right order learned to play an instrument, and as soon as they could render a recognisable version of a popular song were added to the unofficial roster of "people who can play". Anyone who could actually play enjoyably had to get used to being in demand when at any social occasion.

So the Acoustic Music Club was familiar in that way, with a variety of talent on show, the variety including the amount of talent per person. It was cosy, and it made me smile. Sometimes the feeling of mutual encouragement and social enjoyment is more important than the inherent value of the entertainment itself. Some of the performers were very good, and none of them was less than interesting.

About twenty years ago, the music among the brethren began to taper off, as the general attitude became more serious. Certainly children appeared to stop learning to play music, and those who didn't actively enjoy playing forgot what they'd learned. Those who did still play were still much in demand - if anything more so, as they became fewer in number. More recently the pendulum seems to have swung again, and teenagers are once more very serious about music. They even seem to know current songs, which is most mysterious considering they aren't allowed to listen to pre-recorded music ...

Return to the Fold

Yesterday I was asked two questions: how many brethren would leave if they felt they could, and what sort of people give up after trying the life outside and go back?

Both are really aspects of the same thing. That is, what makes someone prefer one life to the other? It's a tricky one to answer. I suspect there are as many different explanations as there are people. And although I feel relatively normal (touch wood), I keep being told I'm not typical, so I'm hesitant about extrapolating from my own experience.

I was told - tearfully - just before leaving that I wasn't "worldly" enough to survive this dreadful outside world. That presupposes that there is a certain type of character who can succeed once removed from the protection of the fellowship. I'm not sure that's entirely the case. I have the feeling that the key difference is more to do with expectations and resources than personal qualities, except in the sense that those within the brethren are shielded to some extent from the consequences of their failings, and that shielding disapppears when they leave.

My impression is that there are not as many who would like to leave the brethren as those on the outside would like to think. And, hard as it may be to imagine, there are quite a lot of people who go back into it having experienced the freedom of the alternative, and profess themselves much happier as a result.

Practicalities have a lot to do with it, I'm sure. Thinking over the various people I have known who have made the trip out and back, I realise that a good many of them made the decision to return at a time in their lives when security and support became very important. Few returnees are in middle age, for example. Younger people hit financial trouble, or social trouble of one kind or another, and rebound into the safety of what they know. That may be explicit trouble, or it may be the accumulation of feeling that they don't quite fit in to the society they wanted to. I don't think anybody would quibble if I said that there isn't the unquestioning friendship on the outside - it has to be earned to some extent, and although that makes it valuable, it also implies effort. Effort is a key point: people seem to tire of having to run their own lives. Older people get to a point in their lives, too, when predictability and social support easily outweigh any loss of freedom, especially if there is family they can be reunited with. Overall, with some exceptions, those with the means to live comfortably outside do not return to the brethren. Living comfortably, of course, means different things to different people, from material wealth to feeling loved.

This is perhaps a cynical view. No doubt there are some who come to a deep conviction that the brethren were right all along ... but mostly the conviction is layered on top of the other reasons, as far as I've seen. And, interestingly, most of the arguments used on me are practical ones, too.

Really, I do have to say that life within the brethren is easier. If you can swallow the notion that their way is best, then it's a great weight of responsibility off your shoulders not having to decide things for yourself any more. In moments of weakness, I defy anyone not to find that attractive, particularly combined with constant affirmation from a large and supportive social group.

Expectations are another aspect, I think. Some people expect life outside to be a constant party. Others see evil wherever they look. Both extremes are likely to discover more misery than they need. Normal life, outside as well as inside the fellowship, has ups and downs, and if you're inclined to look at all the negative experiences as the result of being outside, then of course you'll want to change that.

So am I going back? Well, I don't like to say "never" about anything, but I can't see it happening. I thought life after the brethren would be hard work, so I'm hoping the low points don't catch me out. It's been good so far, but I'm sure the problems will come.

The Time of My Life

It's an odd thing, but I don't have any more time than I did before.

Well, that isn't strictly true. I have more time of my own, but I have more things that need doing. Suddenly the magic underwear genie doesn't replenish the supplies any more, and food isn't there to eat unless I prepare it. The house gets gradually grubbier unless I de-grub it, and the lawn still appears to be growing in October. And the various friends aren't going to socialise with me without my personal input. Roll on the twenty-six hour day and the four-day weekend, I say.

The great thing, though, is that none of this is scheduled. Work still requires me to be there at particular times (except when I unset my alarm thinking I'm setting it, as I did last night), but the rest of my time is my own to use as I see fit. The freedom is extraordinary.

By my calculation, an average of fifty-eight hours per week of my old life required me to be in particular places, and that is a very conservative estimate of the actual time used because it doesn't take travelling into account. More to the point, though, all those activities were tied to certain times, and that meant that they dominated everything else. Work from seven in the morning to four in the afternoon, followed by a meeting at six or seven. That doesn't leave space for anything much at all, and healthy eating is only possible if there is somebody at home to make dinner.

I found myself explaining the other day just how many things I haven't done in my life by way of recreation, and in discussing it I concluded that the principal reason was that I have only ever had one afternoon per week to fit such things into, and one afternoon is always too precious to waste trying these things. The rigidity of schedule and shortage of time meant that everything had to be planned in advance if it was to happen at all.

As it is, when somebody phones to say they're in the area and can I meet them for dinner at eight this evening - as happened yesterday - I can now say "yes". And very nice too.

Mostly, the change has come as a completely unmixed relief, and I haven't looked back at all. Just once, while out on a Saturday afternoon, I have caught myself thinking "I'd better be planning to get back soon, or it'll be late enough for the family to worry", only to realise that their worry levels are now independent of my whereabouts, except that I suspect they fear I may be getting up to non-brethren-approved tricks, and they might be right.

The habit of planning evening activities around meeting times also dies hard, in that I have been used to thinking of certain nights of the week as better than others for things that need any length of time. Mondays and Wednesdays were usually the only options. And I still find myself leaving things until Wednesday when there is no reason at all to do so.

Still, if that's the most noticeable damage from a lifetime of disciplined structure, I'll count myself lucky.

The Truth

It has probably been obvious that real life is rapidly overwhelming my blogging.

Not only have I been busy, but as the way I spent my life recedes into the past, I find it harder to care about it sufficiently to document in the detail I'd like. That's a good thing of course; it's just that I didn't really think I'd begin leaving it behind so soon. I have a short page of notes for brethren-related subjects not yet covered, and I had best start to expand on them before I lose the feeling of what it was like to be involved. It's not a feeling I'm anxious to hang on to purely for the sake of writing about it.

So, firstly, I was reminded of "the Truth" by a discussion last night.

I've touched on this one before. The brethren believe that there is no such thing as a grey area. Things are either so or not so, good or evil, godly or sinful. The things which "are so" are collectively the Truth, and this is not at all the same as fact.

Generally speaking, when the Truth is referred to, what is meant is the sum total of the doctrinal and practical teachings of the brethren's leaders, with room allowed for any yet to come. That's because there is nothing so real as a revelation from above, not even a concrete reality which may contradict it. The notional entirety of everything God wishes man to know will surely be encompassed by what His representative passes on, at least before the rapidly-approaching end of time. Actual fact, while occasionally useful, is not actually important in the same way as revelation.

This attitude is necessary if one denies the existence of anything between black and white, because only the narrowest blinkers can allow such a view to persist. Real life, with all its inspiring chaos, only rarely divides so neatly, just as the integers are an infinitesimal subset of real numbers. The indefinable will always greatly outnumber the tidily true.

There are whole fields of enquiry which the brethren regard not only as unnecessary but illegitimate. Not only those studies which turn up inconvenient facts, but those which deal in the impenetrable. The Gradgrind attitude has lived on a lot longer among the brethren than elsewhere. If a question has an answer the brethren don't like, then they'll say it shouldn't be asked, and if the answer is a matter of taste or personal choice, then it isn't a question that matters. Poetry is alien to the brethren mind, as anyone who has read the introduction to their hymn book will know.

Some questions have an answer which can be known clearly. Others have answers in a range which can be known. Others have answers, but ones which cannot be known at all. Others do not have answers. And some questions make no sense to ask, though they make superficial sense in themselves. All can be valuable, but only the first and the last are acknowledged by brethren doctrine. If they cannot declare an answer by fiat, the question must, by default, be pointless.

The same system then extends from facts to morals.

So, to return from the heights of abstraction, I am frequently asked if I think the brethren and their Truth are wrong. My customary reply is that I don't think they're right, but that I don't consider myself qualified to say they're wrong. Any brethren will always follow this with something which assumes that I have said they're wrong, but with some puzzlement because I haven't said it clearly. It appears to them that I am playing with words so as not to be accused of apostasy. The actual and real distinction between "not right" and "wrong" is a classic grey area that years of indoctrination has left them blind to.

That blindness explains more than I have room to go into here, but knowing that, for brethren, anything that cannot be stated unequivocally to be right must necessarily be wrong, allows one to understand more of their behaviour than is possible when thinking in terms of messy reality.

Milestones

It just occurred to me after posting the last entry that I have now passed three months as a blogger.

I hoped documenting the things that had been swirling around my head for so long would begin to change the reality around me. It has succeeded beyond my wildest dreams. Text in black and white has a power that spoken words don't, especially in a diffident and quiet voice such as mine.

"Blogging has changed my life" sounds like hyperbole, but it's the literal truth.

A Hostile World

It's been a very busy weekend. They are, these days. I'm not a naturally sociable person, and am aware that my default now that I live alone would be something of a hermit-like existence. I am also aware that if people invite me to activities, and I say no, those invitations will dwindle and stop. So I say yes. And I am busy. And this is good.

So having spent Friday evening in exceedingly enjoyable company, been out all Saturday (including a party), and also ventured out today for a Sunday roast at a friend's followed by a woodland photographic walk, I got home this evening to an answerphone message full of concern, thinking of me away from the brethren on a Sunday, and thinking how long and lonely the day must be. With no notion of the irony.

I write this blog based on the notion that I understand the brethren's point of view. Not that I claim any special knowledge, but just that I have been in close proximity more recently than most, and devoted a lot of thinking capacity to understanding the system. But one thing that mystifies me is the average brethren person's view of the outside world. It seems to be such a basic assumption that life will be terrible on the outside, that any other option is simply not imaginable. Why?

There have been brethren I have known who have spent time on the outside, and will speak with a shudder of the sensation of standing alone, feeling that life is empty and missing the meaning it once had. Obviously that is a biased selection, because these are people who have abandoned their attempts to live away from the brethren, but the interesting thing is that the majority of the brethren think the same whether they have experienced it or not. This makes me wonder whether it is the expectation which causes the experience to some extent. I can't say.

Philosophically I object to atheism, but one comment by an atheist does resonate with me, and that is that to admit that there is no meaning to life is to stand in a bracing wind of reality much more satisfying to a mature mind than a cosy shelter of make-believe. That resonates because I think that way of the brethren's life. As it happens, I do believe that life as a whole has meaning. But I do like that word "bracing" about being outside of the narrow meaning life used to have, and I can also understand that it isn't for everybody. I see others look at that bracing wind and turn away, thinking of it as an icy blast, and preferring to keep their hair shirts for warmth.

Reality is precious. It's not pleasant in every aspect, but I wouldn't settle for protection from the unpleasantness at the price of delusion, especially as the compensations are so great. I have been fortunate in having already experienced the kindness of strangers before ever leaving, which gave me the courage to make the break, and I have found so much more since. Wouldn't it be sad to think that the whole world was hostile except for the small community around you?

Purpose in Life

After I had stated that I was intending to leave the brethren, I had many dark warnings about the cold hard world outside, telling me that there was nobody caring, that everybody was, at base, selfish and nasty, and ready to use me for what they could get and treat me as disposable afterwards.

Up until now, I've been amazed at the kindness and general humanity I have found at every turn. Which makes it all the more shocking to come across vindication of those dark warnings from the last source I should expect.

It has made me think - not an uncommon reaction with me, you might say.

What am I doing? What is the point of me as a person? Should I crawl under a rock and pretend to the world I'm not really here? Is it really vanity that keeps me posting my thoughts to the wider world, and not a combination of record for the future and resolve-stiffener for the present, as I have been telling myself?

I have been reading instead of writing, and going over some old notes, which I have found to be quite reassuring.

The first quotation is from the wise and humane Isaiah Berlin:

Injustice, poverty, slavery, ignorance - these may be cured by reform or revolution. But men do not live only by fighting evils. They live by positive goals, individual and collective, a vast variety of them, seldom predictable, at times incompatible.

That, folks, makes sense to me. Yes, there are things in the world which need attention, evils to be addressed. Yet it seems to me to be unhealthy to be dominated by those evils, as though the burden of them is sufficient that they have won the fight before it's joined. To have as one's highest goal the destruction of something, however bad it may be, is to devote one's life to negativity. It is surely preferable to look at life as it could be, see the gains that could be made before they exist, and aim to change the world for the better in every small way one can. In other words, not to demolish the thing one objects to but supplant it with something better.

That's not always possible. Maybe not even often. But I, for one, think my life is happier for looking at it positively. And who says every purpose must make sense or be achievable as long as there's gain to had from the pursuit?

Next up is Marcel Proust:

"There is no man, however wise," he said to me, "who has not, at some time in his youth, said things, or even led a life, of which his memory is disagreeable and which he would wish to be abolished. But he absolutely should not regret it, because he can't be assured of becoming a sage - to the extent that that is possible - without having passed through all the ridiculous or odious incarnations that must precede that final incarnation."

Which is a long way of saying (as is Proust's wont) no regrets. I have a strange background. I have believed odd things. My life has been spent a peculiar way. But here I am, and all that has shaped me. If I wish it hadn't happened, not only am I wishing myself away, but I am losing the opportunity to learn from it all. Some people I have recently come across seem to feel deprived by their pasts, and rake over them with increasing bitterness rather than face the future squarely with the benefit of knowing how not to proceed.

I can't find the provenance of the next one, but I think it's relevant:

We most hate those who are most like us, but with their faults uncorrected.

This is quite a deep insight, I think, and those who have to do with the many varieties of brethren and ex-brethren can see how true it is. To an outsider, the differences are so slight as to be indistinguishable, but the little details that are not as they should be when perceived by a different group seem to fan hatred. I think it's as well to catch oneself in the tendency, and realise that if I'm looking at someone with hate, then they are more like me than I care to admit. The uncorrected faults are reason for pity, maybe, if I've corrected them in myself, but not more.

Some people appear to think that having been wrong in the past qualifies them as uniquely right in the present, and waste no opportunity of instructing others.

Finally, one that inspires me, and reminds me of the difference between my past life and the one ahead, from Jean Prevost by way of Clive James:

But my soul is a fire that suffers if it doesn't burn. I need three or four cubic feet of new ideas every day, as a steamboat needs coal.

Now there's something to live for.

All this is feeble philosophising as practised by a rank amateur. But it helps me, at any rate.

For Reader Information

I just sent an email to peebs.net as follows:

Some time has elapsed since our previous discussion, such as it was. I am prompted to write again by a conversation I have just had with a brethren visitor about my blog.

As I told him, the reason my blog is not publicly accessible is not my concern for the brethren's feelings, it is purely that I cannot live with the degree of exposure it was getting before. I even offered to let this brother into the list of invitees, as I don't have anything to hide in it, and it looks like he may well take me up on the offer.

So, my question is whether you would consider altering your previously stated position of republishing anything you see fit, regardless of author feelings, and leave my blog alone if I removed the protection on it. The protection is a pain in many ways, not least because there are new friends who I would like to be able to see the journey I've been on, and it isn't fair to make them jump through hoops to do so. My writing has become more personal in the time since you made free with it, and I shan't risk the same happening again, but I'd love to let the blog out of its prison.

I've said before that my musings are my own attempt to make sense of the life I've experienced. Reproducing them in the context of your site turns them into an attack on the brethren. That isn't what I ever intended, and nor am I in a position to withstand the possible legal onslaught if I am perceived to be an attacker regardless of intent.

Each time I've been in contact before, I've come away feeling absolutely infuriated, so I suppose this is a triumph of hope over experience. Still, the ball is in your court.

I'll also post this in my blog, so my readers (a select group I very much value) know that I've been trying to make life easier for them.

"The Survivor"

The Pros of Exes

I find myself in a particularly awkward situation. Can I possibly write about meeting people without being specific? My weekend has been about people.

The personal stuff can stay private, I think. Instead, here's some thoughts on ex-brethren.

It seems to be surprisingly common that people leaving the brethren don't want to have anything to do with the community of leavers. I share the tendency myself. It's something to do with feeling trapped and pigeon-holed. Having slowly and painfully come to terms with moving on from one community, the fellowship, the last thing one wants is a readymade alternative that's related and defined by the thing one is moving on from. It feels a bit like only half leaving.

Then there is the lifetime of indoctrination that says that people on the outside are not to be trusted, and that those bad enough to leave the chosen position are the worst of the lot, however nice they may pretend to be. You don't have to believe that to feel the effect of it, if only because the thought lurks in the back of the mind of one's friends and family sadly shaking their heads at the company one has fallen into. The fact that brethren have a gloomy expectation of leavers gathering together to boost each other's confidence, and telling each other that they've done the right thing, tends to induce a determination not to fit into the expected mould, and to do something entirely different.

This contrarian streak does have some definite positive aspects, as an aside: for one thing, it is noticeable that ex-brethren go out of their way to tolerant of obvious differences - though they find minor differences hard to take sometimes - and that has to be a good thing.

However, a passing remark yesterday made me think a bit. It was something to the effect that real friends are people who have some shared history.

I agree. And, that being the case, being as I have left behind everybody who fills that position best, I'd be a fool to ignore those who have some element of shared background - and that means ex-brethren. It's not about bad-mouthing where we've come from, it's about the relief of people knowing what the little references mean, not having to explain, just being ourselves without being wary of being different.

It takes a long time to build up true friendship, but if there is enough in common, then large steps can be taken quite fast. That's enough justification for overcoming a reluctance to become part of a ghetto, which is anyway a ghetto of the imagination, only as real as it's perceived to be.

Besides, I always found the majority of brethren to be decent, pleasant and friendly people, and I'm not surprised to find that those who've left are no different, and keener to show it. I met several for the first time yesterday, and would like to know them better. We barely had time to get past the "oh" as we mutually ditched our mental images for reality.

Whenever Ye Would, Ye Can Do Them Good

Yesterday, while at a birthday party for a Down's Syndrome woman, I was muddling myself pondering the differences in attitude to the disadvantaged between the brethren and outside.

Although I felt a bit out of place, since most of those at the party were quite familiar with each other (it was about half-and-half mentally disabled and carers/parents/friends), it was rewarding to see the interaction and sheer enjoyment. The birthday girl was overjoyed every time she opened another gift and found another token-stye present. I think there's something to learn there.

But what was puzzling me was considering how the brethren think of such people, and trying to decide whether blame outweighs praise or vice versa.

The good side is that anyone disabled in one way or another who is fortunate enough to be born among the brethren, can almost certainly rely on a secure and loving home. All the peer pressure runs in the direction of taking care of one's own, whatever the difficulties, and I have seen many families' devoted care to such disadvantaged people, and how happy they can be. I suspect that the rigid rules and routines also suit the less mentally capable.

But I felt bad on behalf of the community, even though I no longer count myself among them, because anyone on the outside, however needy, gets nothing, not even a thought. Yesterday I saw many people who devote some portion of their lives to making sure that the less fortunate have someone who cares. It may be a large part of their lives, or something they fit in around other things, but it's important in each case. Brethren just do not do that.

And I had never considered before the gain there is to be had from such activity. I'm sure it's selfless, but as with all selfless activity, it has rewards. Seeing a collection of people who could be thought pitiable, all happy and having fun, and displaying their considerable personalities, shifts one's outlook to humanity as a whole, I think. It's no wonder those who spend their time around such people tend to be cheerful and positive. I had always thought that attitude was part of what was required to go in for such work, but now I'm not so sure. I think the work encourages the positivity.

I'm not sure I shall go straight out and volunteer my help in caring for the disabled, but I'm glad to have the opportunity to think over these things, and who knows what the future may hold.

Piazzoforte

I didn't know there was any culture in my town.

So when I discovered an evening of music by piano and string quintet within walking distance of my house, it was worth mentioning to my key new friend. And as she sounded keen too, we arranged to go.

That meant quite a number of new experiences for me. This was my outing, and I haven't been a host before. Nor have I cooked a meal for anybody else. And my visitors, up to now, have been ones who require chairs and answers, no food, no drink, and are determined not to make themselves at home. Having a proper visitor was just a little bit worrying.

I didn't do too well, to be honest, as I missed the time for putting the food on to cook, and we had to bolt a small amount before walking rather more briskly than intended into town. Still, the conversation was good.

The music was much better than I expected, though. Chopin for forty minutes, then an interval, then forty minutes of the tangos of Astor Piazolla. The second half was very interesting to me indeed, and I felt obliged to buy the accompanying CD for further investigation. I'm not sure whether it was the smaller venue, the smaller sense of occasion, the music itself, the fact of having seen live music before, now, or a combination of all these things, but I felt much freer to just relax and enjoy myself this time round. I expended less mental effort on the experience as a whole, and much more on the music.

And I recommend Piazzoforte (the name of the ensemble) to anyone who likes classical music without any pretensions, and isn't too restricted in their opinion of what classical music is. These musicians certainly put their heart into the performance and didn't consider the material second-rate, and I was amazed how good they were.

Being a host will take more practice, though. I hope I get more opportunity.

Bible Language

Once again, something I have been reading has sparked off a train of thought that seems relevant, and I have been pondering it while doing a batch of baking, some ironing and some cleaning. My first non-brethren visitor comes tomorrow, and I've never been a host before.

But the thoughts were a useful distraction from nervousness, and the domestic work took no mental capacity.

The quotation these musings stem from is translated from Polish, and runs something like "the scriptures are a common good, for believers, agnostics and atheists alike."

In common with many others I have read of, I have found the bible becoming increasingly valuable as I let go of what I have been told it all means. In its classic form, it is an immensely deep and precious work of literature, rich in comment about the human condition, and presented in nigh-on perfect language. You only have to try to imagine Western civilisation without the bible to gain some idea of how central it is.

Having a brain not unlike a sponge, much of the phrasing and thoughts of the scriptures have taken root in my memory - more so with me than many brethren, and I think my relative proficiency in that regard adds to their ongoing conviction that I am not really serious about my criticism. I am glad of the knowledge, regardless of what they think.

I am intrigued to note that I share my favourite book of the bible with no less than Richard Dawkins - that is Ecclesiastes. Intrigued, but not surprised, as I have often thought that it comes very close to agnosticism at least. I can read Ecclesiastes repeatedly, and never cease to marvel at the wisdom and the poetic thought.

Of course my knowledge is based on the New Translation, but fortunately it isn't so far from the gold standard of the King James that the older language is hard to learn instead.

Which brings me to another thought, and that is the value of modern English translations. I have a book with several pages of parallel text, with different versions, and I have to say I no longer agree that modern language is always bad. It can be very good indeed. I understand from elsewhere that other languages don't have the same instinctive reaction as English speakers, that somehow anything less than archaic language is irreverent. Even so, I remain of the opinion that the Authorised Version was done so well that the others are more or less redundant.

But certainly modern translations tend more to the woefully bad than they should. Apparently T S Eliot said of one version that it was the work of men who didn't know they were atheists.

And that rounds off my thoughts nicely, as I have often thought similarly about the uninspired and unattractive language used by brethren.