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.