A friend of mine suggested a gratitude journal, especially when things are going the wrong way. I wonder how one would look, this late in the evening of 2012?

Well I'm thankful that I was actually married to Nadia. Thankful for 14 years shared, which included some terribly dramatic moments and some especially wonderful ones. The birth of our son, Tom. The years spent living in Japan. The camping trips, the building of a house together, the music, singing and performance events. The hanging out.

This year I'm grateful that I had a roof over my head, a car to drive, an income and a fantastic place to work. Yes, thank you Anglicare. You sustained me, encouraged me, supported me in ways that you could not begin to guess at. My contribution was nothing compared to what was received. I cannot quantify it. You have no idea how blessed I feel.

And it was Anglicare, in ways unseen and unknown to human understanding, that pushed me back towards God. This is an ongoing journey, lifelong, but I will not forsake it, just as God will not forsake me. I understand life's journey better and even though there have been some very tough moments this year, especially recently, there has always been God.

I have made new friends, joined a great new choir and become closer to people whom I thought I might never. This is the strange flip-side of personal disaster. If you look, if you reach out, take a few risks, stuff happens. Not all of it good. Strangely though, it is possible to be grateful for it all.

A quiet Christmas Day at my brother Peter's house in Budgewoi. Just two of my four brothers, Michael and Peter, and my mum, who is recovering from an operation. Few presents, simple festive fare and crazy wet weather were the order of things. My brother has done a great job turning a classic shack into a very liveable home.

I was far less sad than I thought, though the drive home was harrowing at times. I don't know what possesses some drivers to tail-gate or lane jump in such poor conditions. I know better than to label people on the basis of one observed behaviour, but the sheer foolery of some of the driving was astonishing.

Got home tired and quite happy overall. Would loved to have chatted to a friend of mine but she had her own problems and catching up is hard to do. When to find the time with someone who is so elusive? But I am very happy to be the shoulder to lean on, whenever it's needed.

I have been dreading this Christmas, this being the first in many years with a split family. Not being together on Christmas Day is a terrible blow, and while many families endure the same thing, it still seems like an ill-omened mountain of my own imagining. Just sitting there.

I guess as a result I have been quite low at times and felt like I wasn't coping. Its taken me a while to realise that I am just in another stage of grieving, one in which a sense of loss becomes the central motif of every encounter. There are reminders everywhere but perhaps never closer than festivals or anniversaries, whose collective histories visit and revisit.

So I find myself trying to reframe circumstances and events, looking for the ways in which I have actively ignored the positive and privileged anything negative. There is nothing self-deceiving in this, for in truth, the deception occurs at the original point where I chose to hold a darkened lens to my experience.

Yesterday we just happened to be home as the RFS Christmas truck pulled by. Tom got a chance to meet with Santa and I got a chance to reflect on my forlorn condition, though this came long after the event. Yes, there is usually a silver lining and I am trying harder to find it, even if the times conspire against it.

Hmm. World didn't end. Doubtless the date will be moved somewhere into the future to accommodate more brain-addling nonsense.

Just fancy that.

for those left behind

this unbidden tunnel permits
no compass nor guide;
it's grief sticks like glue,
whether this way, or that,
there is undirection,
though just one directive-
to go,
through.

I'm not sure what it takes to get a serious debate about guns going in the United States. I'm by no means certain that the slaughter of twenty children, some only kindies, would cause the NRA to bat an eyelid, or refrain from issuing assonine sermons or advice. I have no idea why a nation so great as America, whose people and founding principles I admire, can't deal with such a basic question as this is.

In Australia, we have had this debate and the guns, for the most part, lost out. I'm sure that the debate will come again and I'm certain that the gun lobby here will try to push the boundaries. But our situation is chicken-feed compared to the vast, crazy, semi-automatic heaven and hell that happens across the Pacific. When a national organisation says that the way to deal with gun massacres is to arm everyone, then you know that there are folks, who claim to be thinking individuals, that have a very slim purchase on reality.

For those poor dead littlies in Newtown Conn, for their friends and families and the shocked remnant, my prayers, inadequate as they are, are for you. May God bless you in your deep hurt and mourning. May He bring comfort.

Growing close to Christmas, I have been feeling sadder and more anxious. It's not hard to see why - it is 12 months since my separation from Nadia and Christmas is a season that I love. My family is split and so I have been avoiding thinking about the day itself.

Any counsellor will tell you that avoiding anything (except those things that are dangerous) is likely to increase stress, anxiety and the ability to cope. I should have been telling myself that but for the fact that I had fallen, perhaps unwittingly, into a deep well of cognitively distorted thinking. It's been happening for months now and yesterday, my sadness was such that I had had enough. I pulled out my one of my CBT texts and started reading again. Thinking errors were in abundance.

So over the next few days or weeks, I'd like to take you through some of the most common thinking errors, replete with my own distorted record.

Not the end of the world as you know it.

First for the bad news, matters that should worry you into action. Global warming is real and moving faster than first thought. Many Western economies are either still in recession or sluggish at best. The Middle East is as volatile as ever. The gap between the richest and poorest, citizens and nations, is widening. There are still a lot of nukes stockpiled. All worth thinking about. Maybe even losing a little sleep over.

But here's what you needn't worry about. The world is not going to end on the 21st of this month. The Mayan (long count) calendar does not simply stop but begins a new cycle and in any event, the Mayans did not predict the end of the world in December 2012. There is no planet, comet or dwarf star on a collision course with Earth. (Go outside and have a look at the night sky if you want to prove it to yourself.) There is no alignment of the planets this December, nor is there an alignment with the black hole at the centre of our galaxy (whatever that means) and in any event, such alignments have no consequences for the Earth. There is no conspiracy within NASA or at government level to hide the truth about our impending demise and in fact such a conspiracy would be impossible. There are simply too many good amateur astronomers about to hide the facts about rogue planets or stars.

If you went to school and did science to even the end of junior high, then you will be able to figure this out for your self. It's quite logical. If you've forgotten all the basics, then don't despair. Just apply to same reason that you do to tasks that you do every day, such as driving a car or cooking a meal. If someone told you that a small meteor would wipe out your car on the way to work, but presented no evidence at all, would you believe them?

The only person who knows when the game is up is God. Best not to play into the hands of mystics, charlatans or the ignorant. When you awake on the 22nd, hopefully you will be ready for the next irrational scare. Well, that's the theory, anyway

Had a great night out having dinner and dancing with buddies from Anglicare. There was a time when I would have been loath to step foot in Rooty Hill RSL, but time and people have changed me. Oh, its terribly crass in its Vegas of the West and huge-room -stuffed-with flatscreens-and-pokies way, but one can sense that there is a place, perhaps, to build community within. (Drawing a bow, aren't we? - ed.)

And the band, who had swallowed the reggae and seventies-standards-as-medley pill, a strong medicine I'm told, were good musicians. Every number was danceable.

It was a very hot day and when I got home around midnight, the house retained the air of its own midday baking. I opened my screenless windows and sat in darkness for the temperature to equalize. The streetlights were strangely out, so the blackness was palpable, though a rogue moon slipped behind rich balls of cloud.

Sleeping in such undiminished heat is more a chore than a joy, though I found my way through to dawn, and then a little beyond.

Gosh. This has not been an auspicious year for blogging. To be honest, I just haven't felt like it. In between sadness and trying to find my way in the new world, I haven't had the creative energy for writing.

Yes, I wrote a dozen or so letters to Nadia in the first six months of our separation, when I thought that there was still a faint hope of reconciliation. After that my correspondence, outside of record-keeping and note-taking at Anglicare, has been messaging through Facebook, email, and mobile phone. Pathetic really. Admittedly, my SMS keyboard skills have come along so that ten words now take about five minutes rather than an hour or two.

So I will try to kick-start this unread blog, which remains, as it begun, just a place to write things down when I have the inclination. I am getting used to being separated, though the journey through grief and loss is complicated and never linear. Just when you feel strong and independent, along comes a song that reduces you to tears. And you're right back there again. Getting back up is easier though with every setback, thankfully.

Tomorrow I am interviewing for a real paying job in the welfare sector. I'm chuffed just to get the interview and will be dancing crazily if I land the job. I am very happy at Anglicare, a place I have grown to love and admire, for the fabulous work it does. I'm wondering what God wants me to do. I know that I have to keep stepping forward, stepping up.

I promise I'll write more here. Even now, I feel my fingers growing stronger, a yearning for the tap-tapping of the keys; the sweep of the cursor from blank to text. I like that.

I am becoming more and more ambivalent about relationships. Since Nadia and I split up 8 months ago, I have been through quite a few stages of grief and loss, and then back through again. But somewhere around two months ago, I quit trying to reconcile our marriage (there are only so many times you can reasonably hear the word No) as the emotional cost to both of us was too much.

Around the same time I began to think, or try to think, about the possibility of romantic ties to other women. Not an easy thing to do, as really my interest levels were low, with the exception of one person. Now I find that I am pretty disinterested all-round, something I can only attribute to the process of grieving. I am kind of glad really, because truly I need a period of singleness after so many years of relationships.

Another factor is clearly my recommitment to God, an epiphany that comes as a surprise to me. Regaining my faith (but only by the mercy and grace of God) has been such a blessing. It is a long road that I am on, and this is just the retracing footsteps to the basecamp that I abandoned years ago. I don't plan quitting this time. It's just too important.

The terrible massacre in Aurora Colorado is a reminder, if any were needed, of how precious and fragile life is. What could be more average than going to the cinema to watch a new blockbuster? What could seem more ordinary, everyday, safe? Is there anyone who can't imagine the absolute ubiquity of the taking of seats, the smell of fresh pop-corn, the rustle of plastic or the chatty excitement of a crowd gathered before the lights dim?

Which makes this grim and premeditated execution of completely innocent people all the worse. While the major news outlets unpack the broad details of the attack, the stats and the political handwringing of elected officials, the lives of folks damaged or touched by events goes on. No-one but the families and friends of those killed or injured can testify to the pain, grief and disbelief that such violent and unpredictable loss is engendering. Now and for years to come.

I know that this time will test the faith of many in a loving God who is acting in the world and in our lives. One cannot see a purpose or a plan in senseless murder. It is simply beyond our comprehension. I will pray for those who are mourning, whose loss is beyond words, whose pain is seemingly beyond healing. I know that God hears prayer and is with those who are suffering. And I know that He loves us unfailingly.

Life seems a curious ocean of peaks and troughs at the moment. The times I am happiest or most confident coincide almost exactly with the times when I am in the company of others, whether it be at work, or choir or church. The times I am least happy are when I am alone or have experiences that bring to mind the recent past, what I seem to have lost, or those which cast the future in a dimmer light. Fortunately the latter are becoming less frequent with the passing of time. On the other hand, the veneer of confidence is just that, easily exposed by people or events that are often visceral reminders of what really is still quite fresh in my memory and experience.

No we are not at the mercy of random phenomena, nor proverbial corks bobbing on the restless, foaming sea of destiny. It may seem that way to some, even to me at times. I don't need to display a t-shirt with a fatalistic message( though many of my t's have odd inscriptions) and yes, I do see meaning in my life. Sometimes hitting rock bottom is the only way of seeing the way up and that has been my experience. In which journey I have a merciful, loving God to thank.

Heaven has not had a huge appeal for me. What I mean by that is that I dont actually seek out a reward for becoming a more decent or kinder person now. I don't mean to be ungrateful either, but living life with a constant eye on what happens after doesn't work for me. Yes, it's reassuring, and as I get closer to the end of my life, it will doubtless loom much larger than now. Despite its difficulties and unpredictability, there is something terribly fascinating at being alive here, at this time and in this place, right now. Circumstances mean that some days I am sad and lonely, missing my family as I do. It's not a pain I would wish on anyone.

But today I found a quotation by Meister Eckhardt, the Christian mystic, which gave me a very agreeable context for my feelings about this life and the one to come. Oft-quoted, it goes:

"God is at home; we are in the far country."

Understanding heaven as a journey home is a lovely image, and we don't need to see our life here as being superfluous , alien or as a waiting room. The far country is not our home, but it is real place with with real life to be lived. The journey image allows us to see a process, not necessarily linear, in which home is the destination. But clearly, there are other stops on the way and they require our full, here and now attention.

None of this detracts from the importance and joy of being one day with God. But it behooves us to engage with where we are now, with purpose, compassion and courage. Never to avoid.

Funny what the passing of day can make. Today was such a different day to the last one I blogged. What was different? I worked at Anglicare - singing in the cafe this morning and interviewing upstairs in the afternoon. I met my supervisors lovely son and rehearsed another song with a coworker. I had a swim as the sky darkened above and rain slowly began to drizzle on car windscreens. All that was good.

Better still, I connected more honestly with God, coming before him with a contrite spirit, knowing where the real cause of suffering lies, understanding how I have to be. And what a blessing that is.

A difficult day today. Not in terms of being overly busy or stressed out by events or commitments. In that sense it was quite easy. The difficulty was emotional; dealing with negative thoughts and feelings arising from circumstances in my life. It's strange really, that I can be so relaxed and on top of things one day and brooding, without any obvious spark , the next. It's easy to be complacent, until unresolved resentments and fears flame up. And for some reason these negative aspects tend to cycle through the day, irrespective of what else is happening.

Tonight I'll spend time in prayer and in meditation and try to end the evening on a more positive note. Uncertainty about the future will eventually be made clearer and many of my fears may prove to be unfounded. Even where they come to pass, there are ways of accepting without the attendant emotional agony.

Even just writing about things is helpful.

It's a cold day today. At Penrith pool, staff had covered all but two lanes to keep the heat in. Surprisingly, there were few takers while I was there. My laps passed uneventfully and I was glad of the hot showler, as Tom would say, afterwards. Today's gig at Anglicare was likewise unremarkable, though my cold, lack of rehearsal and some poor song choices meant it wasn't quite up to scratch.

Choosing to do the cafe today also meant that I missed Tom's Friday assembly, in which he had a small speaking part. I felt guilty about it all day and have vowed that next time, I'll choose the assembly. It's easy to be selfish sometimes and I really should put my son ahead of the needs of strangers, even if they are needy. I know that I'm appreciated there by staff but I want to get my priorities right. How long will Tom be a little boy for?

Far too soon, that time will pass.

I have been reading a book on positivity. The author is keen to establish the scientific credentials of her findings, so the first half of the book presents the results of clinical studies that support the view that genuine posivitity can create a more meaningful, less stressful life. The practical work for the reader begins with a positivity ratio test, completed (in my case) online and recommended as a daily activity. So that is what I have been doing these last few days, with my ration bumping up to post-optimal today.

It might be a freak one-off rating, given that today was one of my volunteer working days at Anglicare. And I was happily and busily engaged with my work all day and came home sated by how productive the day had been and how great my coworkers are.

Interested? You can check out the test and take it here:

www.positivityratio.com

We have an active and very committed Refugee Support Group in the Blue Mountains. I know that they work hard and with great perseverance to help all kinds of refugees who find themselves in detention. Ever since the politicization of "boat people" by the Howard Government a decade ago, any sensible debate on how to fairly and humanely treat refugees has taken second place to rabid scaremongering and misinformation. And still, these dedicated people offer kindness and hope to people whose only mistake was to crave a better life.

Last night the support group hosted a fundraising night for refugees, with musicians giving their time and support, pro bono. I went, but it was a difficult thing to do, because I was going alone. I don't know how to put it, but appearing social events in my own community is fraught with anxiety. There are fears of being looked at, talked about, pitied. Of course, these are only fears that I project onto others. It's all in my mind.

But I did go and enjoyed myself. I think I was even a little bit courageous in doing so, but if I don't step out in faith, then I'll likely wither at home. And frankly, I think that I still have too much to offer to do that.

The bands were great, the organizers, angels. Thanks to everyone involved.

Last Saturday night was windy and while Tom and I were watching tellie, there was strange bang outside. Thinking that it was the door, I put the matter out of my mind. Later though, I could hear the sound of moving water, such as one hears in pipes hidden behind walls. No taps were running, no cisterns filling. Tom dozed off and I headed outside to check the hot water tank, only to find the latter lying on its side like a fallen Dalek. It's bottom had buckled and punched out and the tank had lost balance. A call to the plumber ensued and cold water was the norm for two days.

It didn't make my Mothers Day any happier (see previous post) and it struck me at the time as a apt metaphor for my condition. Knocked for six and lying helpless. Only I'm not either of those things really though it's easy to feel like that on days when I'm feeling low. Great good fortune puts a roof over my head, an income in my pocket, a little man in my life. I am a member of a great choir, have the chance to sing in a cafe every Friday, and am slowly acquiring new friends. So really, I am the luckiest of men. I am also closer to God and trying hard to amend those aspects of myself that have been the cause of past trouble.

There will always be those days. But there is much more to be thankful for.

Mothers day. This time last year my family went to a restaurant in Parramatta for lunch. The year before we had a fondue at home, once again with all the mothers being present. I enjoyed organizing them and especially the satisfaction of being with family on such a day. It wasn't until Tom came along six years ago that this day assumed such importance to me, a late epiphany, it's true, but better than never coming around at all.

This year, with Nadia and I separated, it's just been sad. I've tried to have a fun day with Tom and we have played and hung out pretty successfully, but the feeling keeps returning. To me, at least. Nadia has been having a day with her Mum and I hope hers has been better than mine. I don't mean to mope about. It's just how things are at the moment and days that are family centred are particularly difficult.

So roll on Monday.

Monday. Another short note to Nadia. A cold, overcast day that is setting into my bones. Soon I'll head down to Penrith for a swim, then back up the mountains for choir. I left Crowd Around this year (for rather obvious reasons) and joined a lower mountains group, The Moo Choir. Nothing to do with cows, I might add. We are just based at Warrimoo.

It was very difficult to leave Crowd Around, the choir which started so many things for me. Nadia, Japan, singing.

Winter has set in early in so many ways.

This year.

I have been writing letters to Nadia for a few months now. Letters of apology and sorrow. Letters of love and remembrance. Letters that express my hope, faint though it is, of reconciliation. Nadia has never directly replied to any of these. Today I pushed a little, hoping that my most recent letter of two days ago might have shifted her views, just a little.

The truth is that Nadia feels pretty much the same as she did three months ago. She doesn't want to be with me anymore , not as husband and wife. She can't get past the events of last year and wants a fresh start. No history.

It's hard for me to be give up the little light of hope that has burned, however dimly, this year. It has been such an important focus for getting through each day and has directed so much thinking and energy. Sadly, I don't really have any choice anymore. I have to accept what I cannot change. I love Nadia with all my heart and would do anything for her but I can't be a fool and live a deluded existence.

May God bless my wife and little boy.

It's a beautiful sunny, though slightly chilled Saturday morning. One of those mountain autumn days where there can be, if you're lucky, an unexpected collision of cool air and warm light. But Tom is away with his Mum for the next few days and so I have before me, a time of relative solitude. It's my job to make this time productive rather than too reflective. I'm not interested in navel gazing.

Strangely, I find that my singing gigs at the outreach cafe on Fridays are calming. Not at all anxiety inducing. Maybe I am just getting used to being in front of an audience. Maybe I am becoming more accepting of making mistakes and just getting on with it. In the past, the opposite has been the case, and a missed chord or wrong lyric would be just too embarrassing, throwing me for the next part of the song. Or causing me to look for blame elsewhere. Yesterday I started a song in the wrong key(I had the capo on from a previous song) and knowing that there was no way I could sing that high, I stopped and started again. I felt a bit of a goose but soon recovered. I guess also that the people there are so kind that they would never try to point out a mistake, and having a cafe atmosphere ( rather than being a performance venue), it's also true that no one is paying that much attention. Yes, I am really starting to enjoy my time each week there and I think that I am becoming a better performer too. Though that was never my aim.

So Saturday, I embrace you and with God' s help (for no other is sufficient), will try to stay in the groove.

Tom came back today after his stint with Nadia. He has been giving her a lot of grief lately and is prone to tantrums if he doesn't get his way. I know how difficult it is for her and I really do feel for her. And I have tried to help when I can and if she asks me. I don't just do it because I love her, which I do, but also because it's right that I do. It's not something that I can just walk away from.

We have another busy time ahead of us and if Tom behaves (which he usually does for me) I hope that we can go to the Bathurst Show and do a lot of father and son things. I enjoy his company and I am rarely lonely when he is around. He still has a big problem with food - he is reluctant to eat anything wholesome. Naturally, icecream, chocolate and biscuits are just fine! I'm hoping that his aversion to school is abating now that second term has arrived, though getting him in the mood will probably be a challenge for some time.

Meanwhile, the wind is howling outside and it feels like winter in mid-autumn. I have observed in the past that the weather is sometimes an apt metaphor for my feelings. Tom is here but my heart has a winter's edge.

Despite the date on this blog, today is Anzac Day. A day of remembrance amongst the thickets of noise that characterizes modern life. It is worth recalling the sacrifice of others, and notwithstanding the generalizations and cliches that inevitably abound on such occasions, it is right for us to do so. Lest we forget.

blades of wind-hunted grass
lithe headstones in bright air
remembering another
earthly cenotaph

Tom and I have had busy time of late. This being the school holidays, there has been a lot of time to fill in. Yes, a lot of time indeed. In the last few days we have seen The Pirate Movie, been swimming at Springwood pool, spent time gardening at two properties, played Monopoly and Risk, backyard cricket and shopping. Tom complains the moment boredom sets in, which is often. I tell him quite straight-facedly that boredom is a part of the human condition and that adapting whilst young is to his advantage. He is unimpressed. I ponder whether the faster rhythms of modern life, so often and tediously written about in the self-referring media, is making Tom and his peers boredom averse. I tell him that the gaps are important, the spaces where reflection and quiet are possible. Still unimpressed. I guess being six lacks subtlety.

And when you think about it, it is the gaps, which matter so much with faith. Prayer, meditation, reflective reading and thinking all happen in the spaces between whatever else is happening. I have had a lot of time for gaps in the past four months and often it has been a painful, lonely experience. But there have also been times of joy and communion. And overwhelming thanks. What can I say but to be grateful to God for the chance to experience difficult times, in spite of the obvious emotional cost. That cost is small though compared with the great gains that can come, invisible as they may seem to others.

It's difficult being in the company of other parents sometimes. I shouldn't feel uncomfortable but I tend to fall, most times, for the old mind-reading error. I'm guessing that they are thinking 'Oh, there's David, the poor guy whose wife left him.' Naturally enough, no-one is thinking any such thing as everyone is pretty much preoccupied with their own thoughts and some are probably doing their own special blend of mind-reading.

It's a sure thing that we all do it, tending to denigrate ourselves and elevate others. Or guess what they are thinking. Maybe it's biological, a kind of self-defence mechanism from the mists of human existence. But it serves no good purpose in modern exchange.

Nadia is staying with her cousin Bianca in town and I find my thoughts drifting towards her, wondering what she is doing, saying and thinking. I don't mean anything bad by it, but I guess it's just one more proof, if any more were needed, that I am still in love and missing her. My thoughts and prayers are only ever for her being supported, being loved and finding whatever happiness she can. If that is without me, as seems likely, then so be it.

Good Friday. Chainsaws in my front yard. Neighbors upset. Backyard cricket with Tom.
It wasn't supposed to start off unpleasantly, this being a day that has special meaning for me. Particularly this year.
Its so odd how things go, sometimes so unpredictably. Often it's the way we have sown and are now reaping.
But the sun is out in autumnal splendor and Tom is happily picking at a chocolate Humpty, filled with smarties. He couldn't wait till Sunday.
I dont know how things will work out. I so want to leave matters to God but it's hard not to interfere. So hard.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I am starting to find my feet. The troughs are less deep though every day is fraught by the chance of an emotional unwinding, set off by pretty much anything. I have been helped by a reawakening of my almost dormant faith and the kindness of others. Working at Anglicare has also been a blessing and the job I do is almost a perfect match for my abilities. The challenge of singing in the outreach cafe has also forced me to step up and work harder at the music that I seem to have only paid lip-service to thus far. And of course my commitment to being a good father keeps me centered, for the most part.

And yet still I hope for what may be hopeless. That little ember remains tiny, yet significant.

this and that

This has been a difficult week. Tom was sick with a fever for a few days and has emerged as a thoroughly irritated child. Temper tantrums and a generally foul demeanour have been de riguer since I took over my shift. I find it very challenging but also saddening, because behind it there seems to be an unhappy boy. The causes of unhappiness are possibly complex - he says he doesn't like school, his teacher and the 'hard work'. I'm wondering if the separation between Nadia and me has only just caught up with him, perhaps the realization that it might just be permanent. In any case, it's really hard to be around, distressing really. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night wondering about him. Poor boy! How terrible I feel to have inflicted this upon him and how hard it is to try to make amends. But I will keep trying. I love him so.

Lately I have been trying to keep up my music (a commitment I made to myself) by singing at an outreach cafe in Western Sydney. The patrons are clients of the charitable community support agency ( I am keeping this deliberately oblique) that I volunteer for each Wednesday. It's kind of an industrial kitchen set in the basement of a warehouse - so, it's not that ambient an environment - but it's nevertheless a great place to sing. The people working there and the people who come along each Friday are lovely and supportive and kind. So it's an atmosphere that I crave at present, especially given the kinds of social ostracism I have encountered recently. I bought a second little Behringer amp so now I can power up my voice and my guitar, though getting the balance right has proved a challenge. I have also had to dredge through the lists of typical cafe songs that might prove popular, my own somewhat obscure collection being not fit to purpose. So I mix it up a little as the people I'm singing for are the most important aspect of what I do. I have to remind myself that it not about me and never should be.

anniveraries

I have been so caught up with the events in my own life, traumatic as they have been, that the anniversary of the tsunami in Japan almost slipped by. Reminded by graphic and disturbing images on this mornings news, I was jolted back to the March 11 of last year. Outside a fierce storm was brewing, Nadia's Dad was up from Berry, while in real time the most shocking thing I have ever seen rolled by on our TV screen. There are no words for such a colossal disaster. The homes of real people were ripped apart or floated by, seemingly by magic. These are the same homes that hours before had woken to the sounds of an ordinary day, with the mundane events of breakfast and getting ready to go. Children's voices, cars in the street, the smells, sights and sounds of life lived everyday.

We are never prepared for these things Our lives, so routine, in which the sameness of habit can be mistaken for an unchanging existence, is thrown about like a shirt in a spin dryer. It's there all the time, the veneer of ordinariness that we impose on each day, heedless of the underlying reality. And we all do it, just to survive. Just to get by.

May God Bless all those who suffered and continue to suffer from the terrible events of 12 months ago. My tears and my prayers are for you.

My whole focus has changed in the past month. Not only have I felt changes within, but also without. Even through a veil of sadness and tiredness, I can clearly grasp what is important to me and what must be done. I will be the greatest support and love for my son Tom and my wife Nadia, separated as we are. I will not swerve from this course for anything. That is my abiding focus.

We made our first tentative return to Cunningham St a few minutes ago. Cristie and Jaime have done a great job cleaning the house from top to bottom and even did a little painting. I am so very grateful to them for their kindness - they even re-connected my old washing machine in its original spot! What can I say.

Of course, I don't want to go back to my old house, nor leave my beautiful new house, nor lose my wife and upset my lovely little family. But it's something that I have to do. I have made my bed and so I must lie in it. I don't know how permanent this move is, not can I be sure how things will pan out in coming months. I am uncertain of everything at present. My thoughts and feelings are all over the place and I cry at the drop of a hat.

But the child man in me must grow up. I have to learn from my mistakes and never make them again. Some things are preventable and avoidable and I do have choices that I can make every moment of every day. I can choose to be better. I can choose to say no when it's clear that something is dubious or wrong or may in some way be hurtful. I can choose to look at the consequences of actions from the beginning.

And I choose to do those things now. From this moment until I am no more. As God is my witness.

This has been a very tough time for my family. Separation after 14 years is like the untying of a huge and complicated knot, with so many twists and turns. And unexpected kinks. For Nadia and I it also feels like the unsticking of superglue - the painful unjoining of what seemed unjoinable. We have so much history together - travel, work, music, house-buidling, marriage and Tom, to name but a few, that everything, no matter how seemingly insignificant, resonates like a cathedral bell.

These words are inadequate, as seems everything I do at the moment, in expressing the picture of sadness and pain that pervades our lovely home. And to top it off, it rains and rains and rains.

tears from above
fall long from a sun-hidden sky
our cheeks, shining

this asthmatic summer
finds it's perfect arm-in-arm partner
in my heart

Tom, play.

It's tough knowing what you have done wrong, even if you don't quite know why you did. And its tough not being able to set matters right again. But I am determined to change those parts of me that are immature and grow into a good man, if I can.
I have been watching other fathers closely, those that are engaged with their world, and can see the joy of that engagement. It's something that is palpable.

After Tom's swimming class today, during which I had to physically manoeuvre his reluctant frame into the water, we went to Gloria Park. There were half a dozen families, children and their mothers, furiously involved in play of all sorts. Tom soon joined up with a group of tree climbers and he got to quite a height, and down again. Later the same group swelled into a bamboo wielding tribe, who made huts from fronds of bamboo and swished their sticks like light sabres. I enjoyed every minute of it, sad as I was.

It's never too late, you know.

Another day of sadness and tears. I am sad most of all for hurting the people I love, and even if the motive was not to harm, the end result was just that. And I take responsibility for that, irrespective of what my intentions were. Because I did not foresee the end in the beginning does not excuse me one iota. I am to blame.

I feel naive and stupid for not anticipating disaster and foolish for buying into my own illusions. This is a side of me that I yearn to change and will work on over the coming months. God willing I will become a better man.

The feeling of overwhelming sadness and loss, something which pervades my existence at the moment, has moments of joy, too.
Last night I finally sat down with Nadia to watch As It Is In Heaven, the Swedish movie that just about everybody raves about. Nadia has wanted me to watch it with her for years and I always declined, not because I didn't want to see a great movie, especially with her, but because it had scenes that I thought I would find too confronting. But now that our marriage is over, I wanted to see it. And with Nadia. No-one else.

Sensitive, beautifully shot and cleverly constructed, As It Is In Heaven leaves me largely without anything to say. I mean, I am at a loss to describe my reaction to it because language is inadequate. On an emotional level, it soars between hope and despair. It confronts the meaning of love, the central purpose of music, the nature of community, the complexity of faith. But it is also ephemeral and illusive. That which creates also destroys, though destruction, as in death, is not to be feared. The final scene goes beyond any experience I have had in cinema.

So, thank you Nadia, for persisting with me. And I'm sorry Nadia, that I didn't say 'yes' when we were man and wife, and not just friends, as we are now.