Love your scars, learn from them

My grandfather on his bike, late 1950s.

My grandfather is a wonderful man.

I'm sure everyone says that, and they mean it, but of course I think mine is extra special.

It was his birthday last week, and this year, for the third year running, he is celebrating it in a nursing home, where he has been since he suffered an enormous stroke which left him paralysed.

Seeing him in his bed, prone and vulnerable, day after day is never going to be easy for us his family, but it's far worse for him.  Yet, he is stoic and, when he is lucid, he shows as much love and care for his family and as little care for himself as ever he did when he was able-bodied.

He is a man who lived his life to the full, a man who lived without fear, and a man whose body tells his story.  When I look at his unmoving limbs, I see perfect imperfection.  Each arm is cross-hatched with scars - some long and livid, others fine as silk.  They tell me who he is and what he stands for.

He was, and is, a brave man who would never let a knock or a cut stop him from achieving what he wanted to.  Every time I hold his hand I am reminded of the long and useful life he has led and want to be more like him.
 
He is an inspiration to me and always will be.  He teaches me to love my imperfections, because it they that make me perfect.  He teaches me that you can love and be loved for what you do, not what you look like.  He teaches me that it is better to risk a few cuts and bruises in order to really experience the world, than to hide away in a protective bubble.

He is my hero.

Happy birthday Gamps.

Pomp, pageantry, and people: Cherish your community, wherever it is...

My Dad, who was born in the coronation year, lights the beacon in my home
village of Marloes in Pembrokeshire as part of the Jubilee celebrations.

So...that was the jubilee.  A week long extravaganza of national pride, hedonism and celebration.  What did you get from it?  Was it a waste of time and money?  Was it a washout?  Or, like me, did you find something in there beyond all the pomp and pageantry; something personal and social?

For me, the simple joy of being in my village, with my people, my community, in a field in the rain was so comforting and grounding that the weather just didn't matter. 

I know am very privileged to come from a small village where people look out for each other and pull together, and I never want to lose that; but you don't have to be from a close knit geographical community like mine to benefit from the sense of support you get from being with others with whom you have something in common.  My online communities, my colleagues, my friends may be scattered all over the globe (happy wedding to Shin by the way*), but we can still be a community, thanks to this machine I'm typing into and Mr Tim Berners-Lee and his collaborators.  How fortunate we are to be able to build and retain communities in real space and digital spaces.  It's important to remember this good fortune and if it has done nothing else, the Jubilee has reminded me of how important community is.  Behind the pomp and pageantry there are human beings, people, who sometimes need a hand, so value your communities, nurture them and cherish them - you never know when you might need them or they may need you.

*Shin is one of my best friends and she is getting married in Kuala Lumpur this weekend, I can't be there physically, but I'll be following online.