It has been a long time since I've blogged, I'm fully aware of that. Just like it's been a while since I visited a number of old haunts and habits (all of them good, I hasten to add).
Sometimes though, it seems as if lots of changes all come together. It might even represent a Paradigm Shift, but I doubt it. I do know that sometimes you can't see the scale of the change until you're on the other side of it, or them, as the case may be.
My few regular readers will know my predeliction for Role-Playing Games and Imagination as my primary mental escape from "reality" (although some might say the same of my faith and occupation!) So folks will have read about my creative endeavours with varying degrees of (dis-)interest and marked the movement over the years. (And, yes, scary thought that it is, it is years).
The first change has been that I have left Eshraval, again. I did rejoin after this post, and it was great fun; liberating to simply be a player and not an administrator, to re-discover an older setting I'd written and bring it into play, and even to meet a lot of old friends returning for the latest version. The problem? Trying to keep up with it all. If you've never been involved on a really active bulletin board it may be a little hard to understand, but it's a bit like a large number of written conversations, all happening at once with barely a break for breath. Simply to keep up with things is hard enough - and to make a considered response to one line of thought can easily mean discontinuing another. Small wonder then that there are multiple conversations becoming dormant daily, new ones starting and others being reawakened all at once. It's like one vast chaotic machine that achieves a degree of forward motion while probably generating more noise than movement. Vibrant, stimulating and all-encompassing, nearly all the time. And that was before the activity requirements of actually developing details of a nation on out own wiki!
I don't quite know how, but I just came to realise I couldn't sustain it any more. Maybe stopping and taking the time (over a number of days) to read a book in the same room as the family had something to do with it. But whatever the reason it's been time to call it a day.
Then at home, I've decided to give up alcohol for the month. I will not buy and consume any alcohol. (I have to do Communion wine, but you know what I mean). I've been growing a little worried about how much I've been drinking, and the manner of it, for a while now (mostly at home, and not in the company of other drinkers), so I think a month to detox would be a good idea. Maybe the low-level headache that's been around for the last 24 hours has something to do with that!
That said, it could have more to do with another event in the family, with Dad having had a heart attack on Sunday night. He is as well as can be expected, but it was a particularly nasty shock for those who were with him, and I think the scale of it might now be beginning to hit him too. I have three observations that come to mind in the light of it and my visit to hospital on Monday afternoon - three shocks, or surprises, in reverse order of significance.
Least, but still a shock, was the price of fuel! I don't drive very far which means there is often at least a month between trips to the petrol station - but £1.15 a litre is frightening.
Secondly, I was most surprised at hospital not by Dad, because if you're in hospital you're there because you're not well - and anyway in my line I've visited many folks in hospital, and nearly all have looked rather a lot worse than he did. Actually I was most surprised by Mum, the degree of concern and simple fear, which I'm sure are a direct reflection of the love and care of a long marriage. If anyone needed me there on Monday it was her, not Dad.
But the biggest shock? Driving the familiar route past the old Peugeot-Talbot Factory at Ryton on the outskirts of Coventry. Or more accurately, driving past the site of it, because it stands no longer. All that remains is a very large leveled area with a few neat piles of rubble and a number of parked bulldozers. I knew that it was due for demolition, but to see it just gone was eery and somewhat un-nerving. A landmark that I've known for the best part of 25 years simply gone.
It might seem a little flippant, but it's the truth, and maybe something of a living parable. After all, it's one thing to know that the price of petrol is going up and that we all need to make changes to adjust. Just like it's one thing to acknowledge that we are mortal and that we will all die one day, as well as losing loved ones along the way. My reaction to Dad's heart attack is a little like my reaction to the rise in petrol prices. It's been something I've been half-expecting for a number of years (both as a consequence of his increasing age, and the family history, since his Dad, my Grandpa Tom and the link with Northampton, died of a heart attack at 72). A shock, but not an enormous one.
The demolition, however, of a longstanding and familiar landmark, a friend along the road of many years standing (and no-one could ever say the old car plant was an architectural wonder) must be a fairly good analogy of bereavement, or the fear of bereavement, felt by those caught up in the actual events, rather than my rather more distant experience.
And the return to the old habits and haunts I wrote of at the start of this post. Well, I'm posting on another, rather quieter bulletin board again (The Tavern), and have picked up a new writing project for Glorantha (albeit at a much more comfortable pace - a magazine article based on stuff I've already written with a deadline of October. Rather more sedate than the expectation of weekly, if shorter, articles for Eshraval!) These are simply reflections of the changes in my life too. When I was down in Kent the post was stressful, but not busy, and so the need for something to give immediate engagement was attractive. Here, back in the East Midlands, with 2 growing children (and 2 growing jobs!) the rather more leisurely pace of leisure and writing can only be helpful.
And any other old habits and haunts? Well, I need to find an RPG group that's for sure (and I have a contact to follow up) and, of course, I've written this, haven't I?
Showing posts with label Role Playing Games. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Role Playing Games. Show all posts
Wednesday, 4 June 2008
Thursday, 3 April 2008
Faith, Creativity and Loss
As I'm sure many of my long term readers will remember I am a fan of Role Playing Games, and, it must be siad, other related forms of creativity. Every so often I blog a few reflections on these, and how Christian life and faith interacts with them. Many of you might also remember how such creative writing often absorbs much, and possibly too much, of my spare time, both the odd moments and concentrated periods of the day off or quiet evenings. It is, no doubt, a form of therapy and relaxation. There have always been questions about where Christian faith sits with such a pastime - and many years ago I found myself under pressure from certain zealous fellow Christians to not only give it up but even go so far as to be told I needed deliverance ministry!
Nevertheless as we are made in the image of God, who surely possess the greatest possible of imaginations in conceiving the entire created order it seems totally consistent to engage that germ of creativity planted deep within each one of us. Individually the hardest issue for me is how I feel generally incapable of turning that to distinctly Christian ends, unless most simply expressed in the "how about we do this" sort of idea. (Ideas which I freely confess I often lack the means of bringing to completion!) Nevertheless, such ideas seem very shallow compared with the challenge of creating a complete virtual nation or world, combining my knowledge, both already known and learned along the way, with my profligate imagination. In two ways it's fair to say, in the language of the King James Bible, that such things are "vain imaginings." They are vain in the fact that they are not directed towards the glory of God in any other way than to employ the gifts and skills I possess - although if we were to judge all things by that criterion we could find ourselves in a dangerously joyless and staid world, somewhat like the mindset that can hold certain types of churches in its grasp! Likewise they are vain in the sense that I, and I suspect many other like-minded writers and sub-creators wish their work to be valued by others. I've siad before of the thrill of having some of my material published, if only so far in a fan-publication. But this is predominantly background to this post - which is as much a piece of personal therapy as theological reflection.
I am, at moment, grieving. Nothing as severe as the sense of loss brought about by the death of a family member or friend, but still a bereavement of sorts. Over the past few weeks I had come to the conclusion that it was time for me to reluctantly drop out of the Eshraval geofiction project, with which I've been associated since April 2006. I had stepped back, gone on holiday and realised that I actually wasn't missing it. I'd taken the laptop, expecting to do some creative writing and never actually turned it on. So yesterday, having spent several days trying to work out how to best withdraw, since my nation had had quite an important historical place in the world, if not in the present, I was prepared to formally resign, only to discover that there had, over the last few days been a very quick (to my mind) decision to scrub a lot of fundamental stuff and start again. (I might be over-stating the case as I haven't read everything posted over the last weeks, another indication of the time-eating nature of the hobby). Here was my golden chance to withdraw, with minimum disruption to the project.
However, my feelings are very mixed. Leave aside the fact despite being an Administrator nobody had actually bothered to contact me until quite late in the proceedings - to be fair I hadn't been able to pull my weight. Even leave aside a general, vague unease about some things over recent weeks. One of the hardest things will be the loss of relationships. I have never physically met any of the players, but feel I do know them, at least more than superficially, since we have talked of faith, politics, life and so on. But maybe other reflections are more important on a spiritual/conceptual level. And I don't think any are premeditated, either. It simply struck me as I was pondering over these things last night that although I'm the sort of person who rather likes fairly tightly defined boundaries within which to work, both in real life and in terms of creativity, that I was one of the founding group of people who'd shaped the game world. I wouldn't claim to be the most important by a long way, but I'd been there pretty much constantly.
Yet now, with a goodly number of different players and the dropping out of a lot of "old hands" there was, for lack of better words, a dissatisfaction with the way of things, leading to a decision to change them. It is, I suspect, a reflection of the fundamental human desire to be in control. To learn from the best of the past and create anew. To start again filled with hope. Which is all well and good - apart from the fact that we started again with hope a mere 9 months ago. I'm sure that the hope is that a good deal of the material can be transported to the next incarnation of the game, but the net effect is still that thousands of words, and hundreds of hours of creative effort has, at a stroke been rendered obsolete, even effectively declared worthless. And that hurts. When you write for pleasure, whether for possible publication or not, it is possible to salvage material. Indeed I have megabytes of materials on my hard drives for different RPG systems. I delight in re-reading them every so often, and may use bits of them again. What makes creativity special for me, particularly with Eshraval, is that it takes place in a co-operative environment. You cannot create a nation that feels in any degree real unless there are interactions with the wider world. Solo creativity cannot beat that. (Possibly here's a place for reflection to on the nature of God as Trinity, three interconnected and interdependent aspects in relationship...?)
I also wonder whether the latest "revision" and perceptions of it have something to do with relative age. I know that I was one of (if not the) oldest players. With age there are added responsibilities that younger players do not have, most often with regards to work and family commitments, and those inevitably colour things. What may seem only a small amount of effort to the sixth form or university student maybe very different for the "family man." I suspect that the same happens in our lives of faith too. For Esh at least I'm no longer sure I'm willing to invest the hours I did, especially when it seems so casually wiped away. (And that is not an established fact by any means). But now I'm beginning to drift, and I have work to do. Nevertheless this is still important.
Let's just say that this morning I'm a little sore. Aware of my inabilities and inefficiencies, that which I have not done which I feel I ought to have done, even if I couldn't. Wanting to return to a past which has now gone. Tempted to join in the latest great future - and fully aware that I really should sit out for a few months and then consider re-joining, yet actually feeling a degree of obligation towards friends and colleagues. Definitely bereavement of sorts.
If any fellow (ex-)Eshers out there are reading this know that I'll miss you, and it. In the mean time, I wonder quite where my creativity will lead me next?
Nevertheless as we are made in the image of God, who surely possess the greatest possible of imaginations in conceiving the entire created order it seems totally consistent to engage that germ of creativity planted deep within each one of us. Individually the hardest issue for me is how I feel generally incapable of turning that to distinctly Christian ends, unless most simply expressed in the "how about we do this" sort of idea. (Ideas which I freely confess I often lack the means of bringing to completion!) Nevertheless, such ideas seem very shallow compared with the challenge of creating a complete virtual nation or world, combining my knowledge, both already known and learned along the way, with my profligate imagination. In two ways it's fair to say, in the language of the King James Bible, that such things are "vain imaginings." They are vain in the fact that they are not directed towards the glory of God in any other way than to employ the gifts and skills I possess - although if we were to judge all things by that criterion we could find ourselves in a dangerously joyless and staid world, somewhat like the mindset that can hold certain types of churches in its grasp! Likewise they are vain in the sense that I, and I suspect many other like-minded writers and sub-creators wish their work to be valued by others. I've siad before of the thrill of having some of my material published, if only so far in a fan-publication. But this is predominantly background to this post - which is as much a piece of personal therapy as theological reflection.
I am, at moment, grieving. Nothing as severe as the sense of loss brought about by the death of a family member or friend, but still a bereavement of sorts. Over the past few weeks I had come to the conclusion that it was time for me to reluctantly drop out of the Eshraval geofiction project, with which I've been associated since April 2006. I had stepped back, gone on holiday and realised that I actually wasn't missing it. I'd taken the laptop, expecting to do some creative writing and never actually turned it on. So yesterday, having spent several days trying to work out how to best withdraw, since my nation had had quite an important historical place in the world, if not in the present, I was prepared to formally resign, only to discover that there had, over the last few days been a very quick (to my mind) decision to scrub a lot of fundamental stuff and start again. (I might be over-stating the case as I haven't read everything posted over the last weeks, another indication of the time-eating nature of the hobby). Here was my golden chance to withdraw, with minimum disruption to the project.
However, my feelings are very mixed. Leave aside the fact despite being an Administrator nobody had actually bothered to contact me until quite late in the proceedings - to be fair I hadn't been able to pull my weight. Even leave aside a general, vague unease about some things over recent weeks. One of the hardest things will be the loss of relationships. I have never physically met any of the players, but feel I do know them, at least more than superficially, since we have talked of faith, politics, life and so on. But maybe other reflections are more important on a spiritual/conceptual level. And I don't think any are premeditated, either. It simply struck me as I was pondering over these things last night that although I'm the sort of person who rather likes fairly tightly defined boundaries within which to work, both in real life and in terms of creativity, that I was one of the founding group of people who'd shaped the game world. I wouldn't claim to be the most important by a long way, but I'd been there pretty much constantly.
Yet now, with a goodly number of different players and the dropping out of a lot of "old hands" there was, for lack of better words, a dissatisfaction with the way of things, leading to a decision to change them. It is, I suspect, a reflection of the fundamental human desire to be in control. To learn from the best of the past and create anew. To start again filled with hope. Which is all well and good - apart from the fact that we started again with hope a mere 9 months ago. I'm sure that the hope is that a good deal of the material can be transported to the next incarnation of the game, but the net effect is still that thousands of words, and hundreds of hours of creative effort has, at a stroke been rendered obsolete, even effectively declared worthless. And that hurts. When you write for pleasure, whether for possible publication or not, it is possible to salvage material. Indeed I have megabytes of materials on my hard drives for different RPG systems. I delight in re-reading them every so often, and may use bits of them again. What makes creativity special for me, particularly with Eshraval, is that it takes place in a co-operative environment. You cannot create a nation that feels in any degree real unless there are interactions with the wider world. Solo creativity cannot beat that. (Possibly here's a place for reflection to on the nature of God as Trinity, three interconnected and interdependent aspects in relationship...?)
I also wonder whether the latest "revision" and perceptions of it have something to do with relative age. I know that I was one of (if not the) oldest players. With age there are added responsibilities that younger players do not have, most often with regards to work and family commitments, and those inevitably colour things. What may seem only a small amount of effort to the sixth form or university student maybe very different for the "family man." I suspect that the same happens in our lives of faith too. For Esh at least I'm no longer sure I'm willing to invest the hours I did, especially when it seems so casually wiped away. (And that is not an established fact by any means). But now I'm beginning to drift, and I have work to do. Nevertheless this is still important.
Let's just say that this morning I'm a little sore. Aware of my inabilities and inefficiencies, that which I have not done which I feel I ought to have done, even if I couldn't. Wanting to return to a past which has now gone. Tempted to join in the latest great future - and fully aware that I really should sit out for a few months and then consider re-joining, yet actually feeling a degree of obligation towards friends and colleagues. Definitely bereavement of sorts.
If any fellow (ex-)Eshers out there are reading this know that I'll miss you, and it. In the mean time, I wonder quite where my creativity will lead me next?
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