This book is about being single at the age of forty, being ill with a serious disease, being frustrated at my own inability to communicate my fears to my family and friends and their inability and lack of time taken to try and understand me and make that much needed connection, as I go down.

Prompted by Neil Young's song ''One of these day's I'm going to sit down and write a long letter to all the good friends I've known, one of these day's and it won't be long, won't be long ''.

Well, here's my letter.

Imagine.

I'm in the sitting room at my Parents home.

It's dusty and I'm shouting as loud as I can, ''I not coming out until you all talk to me and understand me'', that's the way I'm feeling and that's what I feel like doing because so little do you all understand.

I'm presently forty years of age.

Just imagine !!

Over the year's you've all put me in a box, nailed the lid down tight and on the outside stuck a sticker in large bold red letters, MAD !!.

Do you all think I've no feelings, that I'm a rock, maybe after reading this you'll understand, just maybe.

The phone tinkle's, I pick it up.

Hello says I, Helloooooooo says she, How are youuuuuuuuuu.

I don't care, my reply, and this to someone I haven't seen or spoken to for a while.

I could picture her brain ticking over trying to make sense of that one.

As I'm from Limerick and grew up there, I'd have to agree with the winner of the Pulitzer Prize 1997 Mr Frank McCourt, Limerick people are contrary all right and that's why the rest of the country and indeed the world, doesn't understand us people.

Depression, depression, as I sit beside my ready to throw on another few briquettes glowing fire thinking back in silence, wondering where the road is that will put me in a good mood again.

What a chore, have to take the washing out and hang it on my wooden horse, another bale of briquettes needed, may as well bring two it'll save another trip, I'm knackered, gotta sit down.

Dusk appears, it's twenty past four, thank God that day is over, it's cold, about three degrees outside maybe.

Haven't seen any blue sky for three weeks, misty, heavy, murky night a coming.

Once upon a time long long ago, thinking back, back, way back.

I find myself at no. 17 Shannon street Limerick.

Actually I don't know if I was conceived there but I was born there anyway.

Because my Mothers home nurse had gone home for her tea at six.

I unaccustomed as I was to tea breaks decided to come into this world, luckily my Father's Mother happened to be visiting and could assist my poor Mum with my birth.

I was never able to clarify whether or not the umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck or not.

Doing a bit of research on rebirthing at the time brought me to asking that question.

My Granny had thought that she had to turn me over after I had entered the land of the living but my Mother doesn't think so, anyway I was alive and that's all that matters or so I thought.

I grew up spending a few Christmases in a flat in Shannon Street with my Parents and my older sister.

I vaguely remember ever being there, my Ted and a Disney truck are my only memories and it was Thirty nine years later while looking for answers to my present day problems that I came across a very deeply buried hurt that I didn't even know existed within.

Keep on rocking in the free world.

After me there was a Boy named at the time Frank, born.

He had lived for about six months then managed to catch the flu from either myself or my sister as we were both ill and he died.

Somehow I had decided to take the blame for his death onto myself at the age of two.

Maybe I had overheard that Frank had caught the flu from me and so I was the reason for him dying.

I'll never know the truth but anyway the fact remained that I was the cause for him dying or that's what I thought.

I went to my Mother to see if she could remember any more and the story became more and more emotional as I found out that she herself hadn't ever grieved herself for the death of this child.

She had been kept at home the day of the funeral as she was told it would be too upsetting for her.

On my asking her if she had ever grieved over the death of that child, she burst into tears telling me a bit later that she used to keep his unwashed clothes in a bag in the cupboard and from time to time she would go there and smell them and cry.

Anyway me and my Mum shed a lot of tears that day and I still do on occasion, as I'm sure does she, the funny thing about this whole story is that I had a wart on the knuckle of my right hand for years that I had tried numerous times to remove and could never succeed, a week later it was gone.

I had noticed at night that it would itch a bit, it must have been dying but a strange coincidence that it disappeared after being around for so long and this thing surfacing about me having taken the blame for my brother's death.

Life in Limerick in those early day's was mostly lived local for me anyway and even if I did play Hurling on the street and had to put up with sitting quietly somewhere in a friends house while everyone else said Prayers at midday and six o'clock, I didn't mind, in fact every time the bloody bells clanged I sat quiet somewhere and often had to put up with pals Mothers trying to drag me off to Mass with them during the week, as in those days my friends would all be carted off and I was in their eyes a Pagan I suppose.

In those earlier days I didn't even know what a dam Protestant was, not to mind what a Catholic was or mass or God for God's sake, all I knew was that I was different, that's all, bloody different.

Growing up in a seriously Catholic suburb of Limerick city I had to be very very careful once outside my close circle of friends not to let it be known that I was a dam Protestant by religion, in fact I would have to say that if a Protestant was come across while out with the local gang I would probably have been the first to say ‘Kill the bloody Protestant !, in order to divert a possible beating away from myself.

As a baby I fell out of my pram and got a nice scar over my right eye, a couple of years later while chasing the Postman on my scooter, remember scooters, as sometimes he used to carry sweets for us, I fell and got a nice scar over my left eye.

I used to go for walks wandering around aimlessly with my younger brothers and sisters and pretend to leave them say on a wall or somewhere like that and walk away, soon they would cry thinking they were being abandoned and I'd be able to run back and hug and reassure them, feeling that there was some reason after all for me being alive.

There was eight of us kids in our family after all and getting attention was a rarity is my only honest excuse.

What a bastard, yeah, this was all me.

Best time I ever had about the age of four or five was when I persuaded Betty my best pal to rob his communion box full of money, we sat outside the local shop on the footpath in the sunshine all day taking turns to go in and get more goodies, by five o' clock we were covered in chocolate and sick as a dog.

Betty had a sore arse for about a week and we didn't play together for a good while after that, all his punishment did was bring us even closer.

School was about two miles away and sometimes I remember walking home so as to save the bus fare and next day after school off I would go to the pictures.

The school bus ran over our dog, he used to follow us to the bus stop and then try and bite the wheels.

Warming our hands and arses off the wall that the fire backed onto from the classroom before getting caned in the cloakroom by the Headmaster.

Playing Hounds and Hares out in the field with all the other kids, used to love that game, you know all the kids would split into two groups, one group would run to the top of the field and then turn and charge the others who at this stage would be standing in a straight line, if you were caught by the line you joined that line, if you were lucky enough to get through as the game went on you might find yourself facing sixty or seventy kids on your own and then you would charge and of course be caught but knowing you were the king Hare you had won the game and getting caught didn't matter .

Fishing for Eels and Perch in the Shannon where the sewage pipe used to enter, used to see lots of hospital waste flowing by, met an old man fishing one day say's he once saw a Dolphin swimming on the far side of the river.

At many a football or hurling match I would stand outside the local G.A.A. ground at the exit and wait there collecting those cast away paper hats by those saddened people not wanting anymore to support their colours, going home afterwards loaded to have a colour party with the kids.

Used to go on adventures with Betty `huckleberry' Finn behind the local shop in the quarry, used to catch spotted newts and burn them, yeah, burn them, sometimes we would see a copper pipe bomb be assembled and exploded by older lads, later a friend lost a hand and received sixteen stitches across his belly, I think he ended up playing Hockey for Ireland in goal, luckily I wasn't there that day.

Another person drowned, fell in off one of our home made rafts and two kids I knew somehow got their hands on a boat down the Shannon River and all that was found of them was their shoes in the bottom of the boat.

'' I found it '', that used to be a good excuse when it was found out that I had had some money to spend, of course, I had robbed it.

One of my earliest memories, got chased by a horse once and went home and hid under the sink protected by my Ma as she peeled the spuds.

Broke out of my room at the age of ten, out the window, down onto the garage roof and straight onto my new bike and up the road as fast as I could go trying to meet my friends who had gone fishing, down the big Silitian collage hill and straight across the main road heading for a small lane which led down to the Shannon, all except for one thing I didn't quite make it, Bang , some silly car was driving past.

Woke up lying on the side of the road with my arm in a basin filled with bloody water, lifted out my hand and there was my index finger dangling from side to side and what a bump on the back of my head.

I passed out, woke in Hospital to see my parents walk in, passed out again, probably to avoid a beating.

The very first sexual experience I ever had was when around the age of eight.

I only remember it because it gave me such a fright.

A girl friend of my older sister asked me to show her my ' you know what '.

Upon it's appearance she took it in her hands and for the first time ever in it's life she pulled back the foreskin.

Janey mack, I thought the top of my thing had fallen off.

I suppose only males could understand that sensation.

I grabbed my you know what and stuffed it back in my short pants and ran all the way home as fast as I could run looking paler with every step.

Once I got over that, ''Doctors and nurses '' was a frequent game played by all the kids in the area, had we all been sexually abused ?, where were our lusty demands coming from ?.

Sex in those days was dirty, ungodly, a mortal sin, trouble, sick, disgusting, straight to hell material and all the rest, any mention was put straight under the carpet, funny how I imagined ending up there.

My yacht, I nearly forgot my yacht for God's sake, about a foot long with a red hull and brilliant white deck, it had little life buoy's placed around the hull and to the back of the deck had a sunken area into which you could sit four or five friends, everything was in perfect miniature replication of the real thing so as a kid you could really get into imagining you were up walking the deck.

I went around the world many times in that but the main reason I liked my yacht so much was because I, in times of trouble at home could escape in my imagination anyway and be on my own.

All I had to do was launch it in water and I would be free.

Keep on rocking in the free world.

For years and years I used to pretend at night while underneath my blankets that I was in a very rough sea in my yacht but I was safe and off I would drift into deep slumber.

All my uncles went to sea.

Were there any good times, a good question, besides that time eating all that chocolate, I don't remember, just exciting times.

I went to primary school in St. Michael’s up by the big Church near the Square in Limerick, used to love kicking all the leaves in Autumn going in and coming out, my Aunt Maggie used to live underneath the church and sometimes at break she used to give me the odd slice of bread and if I was lucky a Marietta biscuit or two.

I remember once going to see my Great Grandfather in some dark dingy place.

Nestors shop front, what a shop, shotguns in the window, stuffed Pheasants and Ducks, Duck callers whatever their called, hats, all kinds, fishing rods, nets, spinners and hooks, lots of green clothes and jackets and best of all a beautiful big stuffed trout, I'd say it weighed about a hundred pounds.

Used to love fishing as a kid, don't quite know what it was about it but I loved it, for hours and hours I'd gladly sit in the rain on the edge of a river bank and dangle a worm, then, tug and up onto my legs and the fight was on, it was great as a kid, such excitement.

Anyway, off I went on my own, it was during the summer and the sun was belting down, what a day.

I got there and set up my rod and threw in my line as far as I could, about an hour passed, there was me lying on the grass in the sun watching the top of my rod when tug, something had taken hold.

Before I had time to even get up I helplessly watched as my line flew through each ring on the rod.

I had forgotten to tie the end of the line onto the reel, what a putz, off I went on my bike back home, lucky I didn't get a puncture as well.

Looking back I'd say it was the peace and tranquillity that had me so in love with fishing.

At the age of twelve our whole family moved to Dublin's south side. Blackrock.

Straight into school with a thick Limerick accent, lost that pretty fast, where had all my friends gone ?

My first day at school.

Avoca and Kingstown with my new Brown Blazer jacket with the Castle crest on my blazer pocket and nylon white shirt.

Remember them nylon shirts, yeeeeuch ', anyway, school tie and gray long trousers and black shoes.

There was this guy standing there looking at me as I entered, punky long blonde hair standing straight on top and an expression on his face that said, ''I'm going to bust you up ''.

Next thing he begins to tighten his fists and goes red in the face, I couldn't help it, I just laughed, it just looked so funny, in the end he laughed too and we remained friends through our school day's and I still know him even today.

I remember one day while waiting for the Teacher to arrive Ken accidentally broke off the metal piece that holds a window open, when the Teacher arrived and noticed the broken window piece and as we were sitting beside it, asked which one of us had broken it, Ken immediately stood up and said it was me, 'Me for God's sake', I took the blame feeling that I just couldn't deny it and to this day I still can't figure out why.

A week in detention after school ended and all Ken could do was laugh any time we met and of course I laughed too.

Classes in those days were small, about twelve or thirteen in a class, outside were the grass Tennis courts and grass hockey pitches which in summer time were white washed and turned into an oblong circled sports track.

I was good at sports, very good, my legs were strong and fast and they scored many goals and won many silver cups, plaques and medals in athletics over the years.

Given the right training and guidance I'm sure I could have represented Ireland at some stage and regret not having done so, anyway my insides were churning and it was never to be a part of my future destiny.

My first kiss, what a nervous experience that was and one I'll never forget, I used to practice on the back of my hand for the big occasion, what a let down, it lasted about a second, maybe two, but I'll never forget it or her.

After leaving school and passing the Leaving Certificate, I never even went back to collect the famous document that so much stress, trouble and beatings had been caused over all those schooling year's.

Like most people say it's not what you know, it's who you know that will get you a job and that's the way things went for me anyway.

It was around this time that I began to smoke cannabis, the dreaded weed.

Through a close friends older brother we managed to purchase a ten spot and gathered a few people and went off to a friends house in Greystones, she had a sort of barn away from the main house so we all rolled joints and smoked for the first time, after a lot of laughter we all fell asleep, a friend ended up waking up outside in the field with a donkey licking his face, most of us ended up remaining in the barn falling asleep on top of all the apples that had been collected, I had taken refuge in a pram and that's where I awoke.

My first working experience was with a Polish Tractor Sales and parts department out on the Long Mile road, up at six, two busses later I was saying " CHESST ‘’ or something like that to my comrades and began work at 8-30 am.

That job lasted two years and I moved to another part of the same company selling Fork Lift Trucks, Car Washes and Car Body repair equipment, two year's later I went for a Holiday to a friends house up in Donegal and never returned to work.

When I eventually went in to collect my P45, they offered me a position as supervisor of the branch I had been working in as my boss had gone elsewhere, No, was my answer, as I had tasted freedom, so slam went the door with a large bang as the Puffy red faced General Manager stormed out.

A month or two went by on the dole and because I knew a friend working in an Amusement Arcade on the Green, St.Stephen's Green, I and friends used to frequent a lot this place and because the owner had just bought a new premises up in Camden St, I was given a job in Ricardo's Entertainment and Leisure Complex.

Basically as floor sweeper to start with and to help with the Bouncing as they called it.

Ten years, a ten year stretch was what this job turned out to be.

Some people manage to go through life without experiencing too many out of control situations, not for me though, life in Ricardo’s was always exciting.

There was this old guy working there as head cleaner, past his sell by date, you know, he was seventy four year's old and his name was Tommy but he was some old man.

An ex alco, fare play to him, on my first day he tells me this story about the night a burglar tried to break into his home.

Tommy hears the guy trying to break in early one morning and jumps out of bed and grabs a hatchet from his fire place, the guy gets his hand in the window and down goes the Hatchet, Tommy, cool as a cucumber takes half a finger up to the Police Station in Harcourt St. and makes his report.

Jesus, you can just imagine it, I was entering a new to me, world.

Tommy used to like shit, he loved when he had to go down the sewer, of course he always had a laughing audience and we used to love his stories about the huge black rats and the things he would find down the sewer, absolutely disgustingly sad things, like fetuses for instance.

I suppose someone had to do it, whether the stories were true or not is questionable.

He told me that he could remember as a kid when he used to go to St. Steven's green on a Sunday, with no shoes on his feet, to go and steal the bread from people as they fed the ducks, he could remember being that poor and hungry.

Over the ten year's that I worked there I had many an argument with him and many a good time especially at Christmas, he's dead and gone now.

We had a resident tramp that for years sat outside on the steps, Paddy Byrne he told me his name was, although I doubted it but maybe it was true.

One Christmas at the end of the night the Boss was heading home when after getting into his car he hears this noise.

Paddy had, in a drunken state decided to get some crash underneath the car and this is what the boss was hearing as he began to drive off, lucky for Paddy he heard his moans.

He was a good old soul Paddy, something in me liked him.

I used to sit with him on the steps and chew the fat sometimes, he told me he had a sister who used to work around the corner in the Hospital and every now and again when he was in a bad way she would take him in and you’d see him then back on the steps looking sparkling, shaved and all with a new set of clothes.

He was too soft for the streets really, the other winos used to rob his drink and beat the crap out of him from time to time.

The Cops were frequent callers too and one Christmas Paddy was found under about six inches of snow in an abandoned car out in the car park of the cop station, that’s where he used to sleep.

He showed me some rat bites once on his legs saying look ‘Rats’ dam rats.

Keep on rocking in the free world.

Anyway, that was back around 1979, this was the time of lots and lots of Captain America's burgers and fries down Graftan St. and the odd runner out the door where someone would get left behind to foot the bill, you know, no one would actually know what was happening but people would suddenly begin to get up and start to run towards the exit door, before you knew it you might be the last one left at the table and you'd have to pay the bill for the lot.

It was just a laugh really, played on anyone new who was entering our mad circle of cannabis smoking friends at the time, their initiation ceremony.

The first six years went by in what was mostly a cloud of smoke, playing Table soccer all day and sometimes all night, Video games all types, those space invaders just wouldn't stop coming down, pool, snooker and lots of mineral hits to keep the sugar energy levels up high.

So, I've covered some of the good times from my past and now I'm going to cover some of the bad.

Growing up a Protestant in amongst the Catholics like I've said before had it's effect then but I was never to realise the enormity of that effect on the rest of my life, for one it made me discard my religion at an early age and not having any God to turn to in times of trouble caused many a future insecurity flaw in my personality or character.

The competition coming from within the growing family for love and affection was a constant battle and I actually don't remember receiving any but do remember the bashings all right, there were loads of them, quite common really, there were the ones I used to get in the bathroom when, if on inspection by my Da found dirt under my nails or wherever.

They usually included a few slaps with a wet face cloth, a sore thing when you were on the receiving end, a couple of thumps later and you were off to bed or as I've said before I used to go to my yacht.

Trying to go on holiday's, all ten of us, to Galway, Clare, Cork, Connamara or Kerry, Jesus, what a journey, but we did it every year, first car I remember was an old black Ford, I think all cars were black in those day's, Dad eventually got a Hillman Imp after the Ford clapped out, ten of us in a Hillman Imp, for those of you that don't know it was about the size of a Mini.

I remember one day while setting up the tent for the toilet with my Dad, I had been asked to hold a guy rope but with my excitement and delight in having eventually got there I dropped it, my Dad was inside and the whole tent collapsed on him.

I probably didn't laugh but I know I ran, didn't get far though, Bang, a wooden tent peg landed on the back of my head, shit, that hurt, screams, blood and my Mum trying to keep him away from me as she wipes the blood.

Something I suppose he thinks is funny but scared the living daylights out of me was being chased until caught and them dumped in the sea, no wonder I never liked swimming.

We then got a Vauxhall Estate, what a luxury.

It was only a year or so after I had left school and had been working for a while that I began to view things in a different way, now that I had gained a tiny bit of worldly experience, so to speak, a bit of independence was beginning to arrive, a small amount of self belief or self confidence began to appear.

I had seen a lot of strange things happen and had experienced a few myself during my time spent growing up to what I would call young adulthood at Twenty odd or there about's, call them every day things if you like but to me they meant more than just that.

For instance, one morning early, about half past six am, while walking up the road for the bus on my way to work an incident happened that frightened the living daylights out of me, I was passing a parked car in which there was a male adult with his face pressed up tight against the roof so as to conceal his identity, just blatantly masturbating himself for my benefit, I was so shocked that I just kept walking wondering was I seeing this happen or was my imagination running riot, a new experience, not one I can say I enjoyed in any way but it was an eye opener, this is a strange world we live in I thought, weirdo’s stalking me for God's sake, why ?, what the hell had I done to attract this.

As far as I knew I had never flaunted homosexual thoughts of any kind and then I took a look at myself, the way I was dressed for instance, I had long hair, I was wearing a black satin Chinese quilted jacket and red clogs, a knock on from a late adolescence, stunted development and my drug taking I suppose, the guy obviously thought I was female, he must have got a shock as I turned around to have a look, that's if he was looking at me of course, besides changing the way I was dressing rapidly it proved something to me, nothing happens for no unexplainable reason.

If women have to put up with this sort of thing going on in the world I can only say I pity them, then again that could just be my narrow minded way of looking at things, couldn’t it.

Very often in this society the lesser minorities are frowned upon, gays and lesbians for instance have only just begun to be accepted and how long has that taken, the guy standing in the park with the long mack also has his needs but no one wants to know, he has a problem and instead of trying to understand him we lock him up, an easy solution to the problem but not the answer as far as I can see, I’m not saying that I agree with what he does but simply that most of us don’t bother to try and understand his problems.

Dr. Lars Ullerstam, a Swedish author in his book about the erotic minorities of this world, argues passionately for the introduction of state aid for an introduction bureau through which lonely sexual eccentrics could make contact with one another and clubs where exhibitionists might be able to expose themselves to voyeurs, etc., make room for these people and stop the suppression of their sexual desires, if you close your eyes they are not just going to go away, locking them up doesn’t stop the problem, it seems smaller yet similar to the problems we had with accepting condoms, abortion and divorce.

Keep on rocking in the free world.

Hitler wanted to produce a master race; people with disabilities were slaughtered and are still today beaten up on by Nazi sympathisers such as the National Front.

Condoms, Abortion and Divorce have all recently been introduced here in this country, amongst others we have seen a huge uncovering of sexual abuse by members of the Holy Catholic church, at last the skeletons are beginning to come out from under the carpet.

Some of the greatest writers of past and present times were and are drug takers, Thomas De Quincey, Edgar Alan Poe, Wordsworth, I wandered lonely as a cloud, I’d say he did, stoned out of his head, they didn’t tell me that in school, try reading Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and loading in Las Vegas, how many great movie stars, Musicians and great business personalities have been found to be in need of drugs to bring out their creative brilliance, in fact how many of them would be known today if they hadn’t taken drugs in the first place.

This was for me, especially at the age it developed a good thing for what I had unknowingly in store for me in my future.

My earlier assumptions, later in my life were to combine in agreement with some other peoples ideas that all illness is caused by a burdened soul.

A soul or spirit within the human body that is not at ease, not free to be itself, burdened with genetic influences from the day of conception and then influences added too as one ages in life.

The beauty of innocence, all are able at times to experience that beauty whether it is acknowledged by us or not but live in it rarely through life.

The innocence you might feel while looking at a baby, the innocence of those questions like why is the sea salty, that come from a young child, we all want that innocence, that sense of beauty and peace, a lot of us don't even know of it's existence, but when those feelings do show themselves to us we awaken inside and always are looking for more.

I, for most of my life have been one of those` looking for more ' persons and after nineteen years I knew of it's existence but rarely have lived in that beauty and sense of peace.

How I found there was something very special in life to be got in touch with was by way a chance happening, I was walking home through a housing estate at the age of nineteen early one morning in the summer sun's rays when I spotted on the ground underneath the rear end of a car a motionless bird.

As I paced on a couple of steps continuing to watch there was still no movement so I stopped and crossed the road to where the bird was, moving very quietly and slowly I approached the bird which I at this stage could identify as a male Blackbird.

Stooping down I cupped both my hands leaving a gap so as to dangle both the birds legs as I lifted his body up, he was alive and warm as I lifted him moving very slowly out towards the gate, he awoke as I neared the gate blinking his eyes a couple of times but as I had no intention of doing him any harm he obviously felt this also from me and did not panic.

With one stretch and a flick of his wings he was standing on the gate pillar looking back at me, he must have been asleep on his feet I thought as I stood silently still watching him watching me, I had the feeling he was as shocked as I but then again I wasn't really shocked, more amazed and on a natural high as I'm sure was he, we had both entered that place of innocence and peace like as if in some dream.

For three seconds we watched each other, he opened his wings and took off over my right shoulder with a definite direction in mind, this was my awakening, have you ever seen a tame Blackbird, …….No, neither have I.

Over the past twenty years I have often thought about that bird and those moments and have told many people about that time, I say to them, do you think it's possible that there are different levels of consciousness available to us but rarely are we awake and open to receiving them, always the answer comes back the same, ………Yes, they think it's possible.

While playing a game of cards one night with two friends and discussing the very same topic Frank asked me what I thought the next card in the deck was, I thought for a second and replied the Four of Clubs, he opened the card, it was the Four of Clubs, you could feel the confusion in the room as the card went face up, at the stage we were at in the game it could have been one of thirty to forty cards, to this day I don't know how I chose the right card but the fact remains I did.

When this sort of thing happens you start to pump adrenaline as you do after a fright because that's what it was, a fright.

As a young man around the age of fourteen I fell in love, my first intimate affair and once again the cards played a strange unexplainable set of occurrences, for some reason when I would cut the cards I was able to pick out the queen of hearts within one or two cards from the deck, my then love of my life would shuffle the deck and I would sort of feel my way through the cards and was able at least ten to fifteen times in a row pick out the queen no matter how much she shuffled the deck, I wasn't cheating as was suggested by my girlfriend but I had a belief that I could actually feel within the deck where the queen was, I'm not lying, it happened.

To this day I carry a queen of hearts around in my filofax.

I'm sure lots of people have their stories, I used to be able to know while walking for a bus whether it was on its way and especially if it was so close that I was about to miss it, of course I never ran round the corner but if I had I would have been able to make it.

SO, is the idea that all illness is caused by a burdened soul such a strange idea, I think not, if I am to believe that there may be different levels of consciousness then why not the possibility of a burdened soul being the cause of all illness.

It was these original thoughts that set me off on a journey for many years of learning and soul searching only to return me to these same thoughts and to end up at the same conclusion although with a different explanation.

I had read the true-life story of a woman who had cured herself of vaginal cancer and had missed something extremely important in my reading and following thoughts.

My feelings on this one led me down a road which was to cause slow but massive change from within as I spent the next five years investigating all sorts of alternative medicine theories, first of all I began to write to a seventy year old woman in Scotland who had worked wonders for a friend who had Myasthenia Gravis, a disorder in the central nervous system affecting the muscles in her face, this old women was practicing Homeopathy.

Over the year I wrote letter after letter, taking the pills she would post back to me and we became very good friends, for me, the letter writing was as important if not more so, than was taking the pills as what I really needed most of all was a real friend, especially an old experienced person like her, she was someone and yet no-one, I could say whatever I wanted and unload my anger, not onto her but onto paper which I knew would be read and answered.

As the year passed I got to know an astrologer who had many friends in the alternative medicine field and was asked by her if I would like to join a workshop week end where two Healers were coming over from London to teach a practice called Body Harmony, I joined the week end and paid my money as an outsider really, as most of the people participating were already in some way involved in the alternative medicine scene.

I arrived at ten o'clock next morning a little apprehensive at the pre-booked hotel room on O'Connel street Dublin City, which had been hired for the occasion and went in, I signed in my name and address as requested and found myself a seat with which I was comfortable with, it was the first time I had decided to experiment with something so out of the main stream Medicinal wise.

I suppose I was pretty desperate as three years had passed since my diagnosis and my symptoms were worsening slowly, with no possible answers coming from the medical profession I was looking for help now elsewhere, I decided in that time sitting waiting that I would allow myself to view whatever happened here on this week end with a open attitude no matter how strange it might seem to me, our Healers had arrived and sat down in front of us all, about twenty people sat in a semi-circle facing them.

I instantly took a liking to them both visually and felt a calm come over me, they outlined their reasons for coming and started the week end by asking us all to close our eyes and use our imagination and follow the one who was speaking on a journey which would help relax us.

I enjoyed going to the center of the Earth, then out into space and back to my seat and indeed I was relaxed.

She spoke for a while about Body Harmony, what it was and how we would learn over the next few day's to use that knowledge to heal not only ourselves if we were in need of healing but others too, it was as if I was meant to be here on this week end, I liked the feeling that was in the room and even though I didn't know the other people in the room I felt quite at home.

Your body is your most visual statement, a display of who you would like to be as well as who you are, it's a physical record of the how's and why's, victories and failures, injuries and joys and of your accepted limitations, it's a storehouse of traumas both small and large locked inside.

The medical profession just does not cover this sort of angle at looking at possible other reasons for illnesses manifesting themselves in the human body.

The seminar was designed to give you practical hands-on experience which was something I was quite excited about learning because of my other experiences and it was also a personal growth week-end.

As we sat in our circle now formed we were asked to tell our life story one at a time in one minute, my life story in a minute, what was I going to say, you might think a minute is a short expanse of time but when your talking about yourself you can think again, so it was put to the group for someone to begin and someone did, from there we went clockwise around the circle until it was my turn, at least I was given the opportunity to listen to the other stories before having to give mine, people were holding back nothing, mostly anger and hurt was what came out, sometimes tears and at times laughter, I was nervous giving my story but was very comfortable afterwards now that I had joined the gang so to speak.

We were all different people yet our stories all had similar type problems and the more we opened up to unloading our personal detailed pasts the closer we all became as a group of broken yet somewhere still inside unbroken ones.

One of the Healers named Penny, wore feather earrings, purple in colour and a crows feather tied to her hair, I felt closer to her for whatever the reason and watched her closely listening to whatever she was saying with relaxed intensity, the other Healer's name was Sue, not as airy a person to me anyway yet you could feel she had something special within.

Sue was visibly limping when she walked in and it was explained to us that she had been to hospital for an x-ray and she had a fractured ankle and as it was nothing really serious she was working on her own to repair it through Body Harmony, I watched her closely over the week end.

My story, just like most others included emotional neglect while growing up, although Physical and Sexual abuse had been mentioned by others I had opened as much as I felt was possible for me then so I ended my story passing to the next person in line.

I felt just like a soldier must feel as he stands before a battle, glad to be part of the group or just like a child feels surrounded by it's family, safe and secure knowing backup is close at hand, anyway the stories finished and we all took a break going outside to the bar to get coffee or whatever we wanted, I didn't want to leave the room, I didn't want to stop.

The morning had gone or most of it and Penny and Sue thought it was time to let us all see what we had all come to learn about, a volunteer please and someone jumped forward, a women of course, as all us men are so reserved or was it fear, I'd say the later, ten massage plinths had been erected and spaced out around the room.

The volunteer slid up onto the plinth closed her eyes and we all sat down to watch, as Penny moved closer to the volunteer she raised both her arms explaining as she moved around that it was essential not to rush into anyone's aura, that if you were sensitive enough you would actually feel an invitation to enter coming from the person requesting healing, it was also stressed that it was not necessary to lay ones hands on, that once inside the aura energy could be transferred.

Sue moved forward and stretched her hands out also feeling for her invitation, after a short time they were both in laying there hands gently to wherever they had been attracted too, explaining that what was actually happening here was a passing of positive energy from them to the volunteer, it wasn't long before tears began to fall from the woman involved, she was releasing some past or present trauma.

A short time later hands were removed and a demonstration of where elsewhere in her body she had what was termed a blockage, we all have Chakura's or energy centers throughout our bodies, an example would be our solar plexus and sometimes when deep rooted emotional hurts happen to us during our lives these centers are disturbed and blockages sometimes occur causing a lesser flow of life force energy throughout our bodies, we become emotionally stunted and less able to be ourselves, more likely to not say what we really feel we want to say in confrontation situations during life, subdued, docile, not really alive fully, so it was explained, similar circumstances appear to happen to us when we don't exercise be it though on a much lesser scale.

It was explained to us that each Chakura had it's own individual colour and they went through what they said was a raising of one's Kundalini or life force which they carried out on the volunteer, although it was not for me to see those colours others apparently could do so.

I must have been blind or as was suggested not open or pure enough in attitude to see.

I went along with what they were saying as I had said that I would open to other possible points of view, different perspectives.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in a very special huddled circle, each one of us unloading our inside anguishes and letting everyone know what our fears were and where they had originated, the highlight of that afternoon for me was the sorrow and tears that came from everyone, as a daughter of a present in the very same room Mother, told her story of sexual abuse by her Father, for the very first time ever, a very special time and story to have been able to witness.

I now must bring you to an area in my story that will cover some ground in way of explaining why my story has come and then shall return to where I have left off.

Keep on rocking in the free world.

I’m at home, my own house, I awake, open my eyes, as it often does a tear slips out of the corner of my eye slides down my cheek and soaks into my linen sheet, my eyes focus to view a seagull gliding high over my house, dipping It's wing it finds another thermal and rises once again.

I prop my back against the wall and stretch forward or try to, am as stiff as a board, my right leg pains but as I have done it before, I know the benefits that come.

Ten minutes later, my temperature rising rapidly, as I rarely exercise or stretch, I slide to the side of my bed and stand up, I fall forwards and lean on the nearest steady thing working my way towards the bathroom, I have a smile on my face, I am so happy today.

Its easy enough to get into the shower, although I do hang onto the steel bar that the shower head slides up and down on while watching an unusual spider large enough to warrant watching tries to cling on as the steam builds, one of his legs has slipped, the rest are suctioned fast, so I forget about him.

Showered, dried and shaved I go back to bed for a short rest and view the sky some more, three or four crows fly by flapping there wings energetically the way they do, its like as if their wings and bodies are not as one in flight, unlike the seagulls and swallows.

I suppose my story begins here really, the day my clock stopped.

I say my clock because that's what it really was, my clock, it wasn't a clock that could be seen or felt, it was internal.

It had been ticking for Thirty two long years in which confusion had reigned inside my soul, suddenly it stopped and for the first time ever there was a silence.

The tears just came freely in that silence as I sat on the side of my futon, I did not know what was happening, I put my head in my hands and hunched over, deep from within came a quiet whining noise, increasingly voicing itself until eventually out it came, it reminded me of a noise I had once heard while I was walking past an abattoir on my way to work, starting with a long whine as I tried to contain it by not breathing, it built its energy until it came, as I looked down onto the bare floorboard the long whine turned into a growling noise as I watched the tearpool on the wood get bigger and bigger, at least ten minutes went by before I realised my stomach muscles were aching and I was sweating profusely, I fell off the futon and ended up lying naked on the floor in a curled up fetal position, my tears just wouldn't stop.

I think in those time stopped moments I had found something or someone that had been neglected for the past thirty two years.

I felt as though I had been awakened from a deep sleep, I had been given a second chance at life.

I guess the medical profession would say I had a nervous breakdown but to me I had been given a second chance, a time to heal.

Being the eldest son in a family with eight children, I somehow always felt as if I was the one that was supposed to never make a mistake and always do things right, that, had just dawned on me, the fact that a load had always been there.

I felt as if I had never been young or free, I had never been a child, the fact that I had often made mistakes in the past and had gone down many different roads that led to just more confusion didn't seem to matter, that load had always been there, a load that I hadn't asked for.

There was more to be considered though, lots more.

I remember in Donegal on holidays once, my car got stuck in the sand and while I waited for help to come, a local man sat with me as we watched the tide come closer, talking to each other, I remember a question put by the old man to me which came out of the blue, : where do you come in the family, says he, as I had been filling him in with my life's woes, to which I replied, eldest son, never giving the question another thought until now, he just nodded saying nothing at the time but looking back now I can see where his question came from, age in most cases anyway means knowledge and I could feel his knowledge.

Anyway, along came a tractor and released my car from the clutching sand, that was the last I ever saw of the old man, its funny the way sometimes you are being told something but somehow your just not ready to understand what's being said.

So as the episode ended I pulled myself up off the floor onto my futon and got under the covers, I was exhausted absolutely so I just closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, and I, was so happy today.

What I've just told you about happened seven years ago, my initial awakening.

I never told anyone about that day as I myself did not understand what had happened.

I was living on my own in a one roomed bedsit having only one month before, left my job after ten years, broken up with my girlfriend (Blue) and her daughter and been given a diagnosis in hospital of multiple sclerosis.

MS. it is known as, said my neurologist the day he told me, I smiled at him and turned around and walked out towards the exit door with no questions asked just relieved that they had at last found out what was wrong with me, my imagination was the most relieved and was followed by a nurse who told me to contact the MS center for counseling.

I got into my car and drove home with tears bouncing off my cheeks from time to time.

As I was living with my parents I first stopped off at my (Blue 1) girlfriends house to tell her my news adding that if we broke up I wouldn't hold it against her in case she was scared.

I was the one running and was making a doorway from which we could both escape, her mother was dying of cancer at the time and I suppose we just were not able to support each other with everything that was going on, so, soon after we broke our relationship of two and a half beautiful years and I anyway, spiraled into the deepest depression you can imagine.

If I have ever loved anyone it was this Mother and her daughter and I knew they at some stage would reappear into my life.

After seven years of working and waiting, my 20th school reunion came around and although it was beautiful to see her again I just didn't feel comfortable, I just froze in her company, I wanted to hug her and hug her even though she had after all broken my heart and abandoned me or that's what I thought so we didn't really talk about much that night, all those memories, those bad sad memories that I so much wanted to leave behind reappeared.

Meanwhile I had found temporary comforting from another woman.

Later that week I phoned and asked her to call to see me on a beautiful sunny day, I , doing what my heart wanted stretched out my hand and took hold of hers while sitting in the back garden, I was too afraid to feel anything, there was nothing left on which to grow once again a relationship, the fire had gone out or had moved elsewhere, were my thoughts.

We had both been badly hurt, I even moreso because of my personal situation and also because I was leaving not one but two loves in my life, she had her daughter to comfort her, anyway it was enough not to want to risk it again.

I went home and my Mother and Father were sitting by the fire so I knelt down close to the fire and told them the news about my diagnosis, it didn't seem to shock them, they may have guessed beforehand, certainly I think my mother knew, anyway seven years ago I was not close to either of them and I was trying desperately to put on a non freaked out attitude if you know what I mean.

What my parents really thought I'll never know but I'm sure they felt sorry for me at least, I was now going into a world of my own.

As the weeks passed I couldn't take the sympathy any longer and needed space to sort things out in my own head so I moved into that bedsit I was telling you about, one of my brothers was at the time working abroad and wanted to return home to live with his girl so as I was now dealing in antique furniture selling in a weekend market I asked him if he would like to start a business with me as I had some cash put by.

During the time leading up to my diagnosis, which was about a two year span I seemed to loose complete contact with myself, every ounce of energy I had was being sucked from me through misunderstandings arriving from the fear of the unknown, I just did not know what was going on in my body.

My symptoms were minor at the time, mainly a tingling sensation in my lower back with some numbness in my right leg which at times caused me to limp.

Firstly I went into hospital to have a mylogram which was to see if I had something wrong with any of the discs in my spine, what an experience that was.

A night spent in hospital to be woken at six o'clock am by a Priest asking if I wanted Holy Communion or something, it was Sunday morning, I went back to sleep.

So, over to another hospital in an ambulance, just sit up there please and bend forward resting your arms on your thighs, a local anesthetic and then in goes the needle squirting dye into my spinal column, I felt weird, I was put in some machine and rotated in different positions and x-rayed, sent back in the ambulance and put to bed sitting up, which was the way I had to stay for twenty four hours.

This was my introduction to the medical establishment complete with a headache for about three long days spent sitting in bed.

Negative, they found nothing wrong, all that for nothing.

Next, off to see a neurologist and get sent to another hospital, this time for a week, I spent a few days sharing a room with three other men, one had just had a heart transplant, the others I never found out what they were in for.

First things first, Blood tests, blood tests and more bloody blood tests, because I had told the doctors I had in my past taken Heroin, Cocaine and other drugs the poor nurse that was sent to take the tests had great difficulty doing so because of the layers of gloves which she had to wear, I felt sorry for her so I gave her a hand, it made me feel happy again.

Next was the Lumber Puncture, lie on your side please, another local and in goes the needle this time by one of two doctors who by this time had me really wondering if the one that was putting the needle in knew where to place it or not, so much poking had been done.

As he sucked out some spinal fluid guess what was happening in the bed next door, his pace maker had just gone on the blink, panic stations as nurses ran here and there, curtain around the guy and thirty seconds later out of the room he goes down to intensive care.

During this time my needle had been taken out and the beautiful nurse had let go my hand, that was a nice touch, I needed it.

The rest of my time was spent getting weaker, sleeping, reading, eating, worrying, flirting with the nurses, making small talk, down to the loo for nicotine hits, telling visitors what's been happening and wishing my girlfriend would come in to see me, the rest of the time I was wishing I was elsewhere smoking a long thin slow burning joint.

Keep on rocking in the free world.

I never did find out if the pacemaker guy made it or not, I did ask but they didn't give much away those nurses, I suppose it was none of my business anyway.