So beautiful, gentle and affectionate. It was nice to be loved unconditionally by another creature. And there is something special about the love of a cat. She used to curl up on the bed with me and wrap a paw possessively over my forearm.

I miss Milla a lot.

The problem is that true life lessons only come through living and that’s where the rub is. There is no shared wisdom to be had. No fount of amazing advice that will allow you to walk in bliss through each day. That’s what drugs are for. No, you can’t avoid the painful realisation that you will fuck up and your fuckups will hurt. Some will hurt less than others, some will be soul-rending agony. But either way you will make mistakes and through them you will learn.

The Ancient Greeks were right. All life is a tragedy, but the tragedy is also the comedy. The irony is that each of us is Cassandra, cursed by the gods to over a lifetime acquire such knowledge and wisdom only to have absolutely nobody heed it when we try to share what we have learned.

So don’t waste your time looking for answers, just live the drama. And the tragedy, and the comedy. After all, there’s no wisdom to be had here.

So the question you need to ask yourself in the end is not whether something is true, or if it is a lie. Instead you need to accept that everything is both and neither simultaneously and then ask yourself which is important. This goes to the heart of relativistic morality because the lie is meaningless, as is the truth, unless you can apply some sort of morality to it that gives you something to leverage off.

Here’s the ugly part of the truth. You’re craven. And you’re quite welcome to call that a lie, but doing so will only reveal the truth that we both already know it is. You’re craven, but I make no judgement in declaring that. I’m as craven as you, perhaps more. Here I write and lie and tell truths behind the weakest and flimsiest of masks for the entertainment of no-one.

I offer no erudition, no genuine insight. I expect nothing to come of this, and yet I am vain enough to believe that you are still reading. How craven and pathetic am I.

So, you are craven. And the thing is that as the craven creatures we know ourselves to truly be, we already know what we want out of every given moment and situation. But the truth is that most of us lie about our desires in a shallow attempt to preserve the greater lie of our socially acceptable selves. We are naturally creatures of deceit and this deceit breeds confusion and crisis. Each and every one of us wanders into a selfish and self-deluded crisis of identity, not because we don’t know ourselves, but instead because we are too weak-willed, cowardly and craven to confess the selves we know we really are.

We are ashamed of the truths of ourselves and so we live desperate lies.

And so our lies are true, while our truths are made lies.

The skill is in telling them well.

Hence the propensity of pointless posts that really could fit under a “bikes are good” category. Because the thing is that sometimes I also feel like writing something, but I don’t have anything specific to say. I’m not really interested in getting bogged down in an “issues” blog and I don’t want to be limited in my range of potential topics.

At the same time, I’m perfectly aware that I’m not an especially interesting person and because of my desire to obscure myself a bit, I don’t really have any particular insight or wisdom to offer.

I’m fine with all of that. I don’t really know what sort of blog that makes this, except mine. And so I write what I want, when I feel like it. I don’t really think about it much. I open the window, start writing and when I’m finished I hit publish. I’m not big on revisions. If I’m feeling cautious I might scan for typos and that’s about it.

Sometimes something just has to be yours, for no real reason and without really being touched by anyone else. It doesn’t matter what it is or what it achieves. All that matters is that it is yours.

This is mine and sometimes I just feel the need to write.

I’m sure it’ll go well, but it’s interesting that I’m slightly nervous in the leadup.

I like the idea of being able to plant new seeds and encourage new growth. I have learnt a lot through the last 12 months, it has undoubtedly been the hardest and most trying time of my life. But I have been pleased to note the strength and grace with which I have been able to endure. I have been especially pleased to witness my ability to actively take the opportunities I have been presented with to learn and grow.

I’m excited by this new season, and the new time that it represents. The evenings are longer now that we’ve moved to summer time. I ride my bike home from work and it’s light almost the whole way, even when I leave two hours late. Life feels full, and sometimes tricky. But all in all I feel good and strong and confident. These are good things to feel.

I am enjoying the world and am full of love, peace and patience. This is a good time of year.

Happiness can be many, many things. A glass of fine wine, a good conversation, single malt scotch, a great meal, a beautiful artwork, a powerful piece of music, a touching poem, a perfectly expressed mathematical equation, the light in a loved one’s hair, the sound of birds in the trees, the cold frost on grass in winter. Happiness can be so many things, but it cannot be constant.

Learning to accept this is perhaps one of the hardest, but also most important, lessons of life.

I am more and more content, and in that contentment I am better placed to appreciate happiness when I find it, wherever and however it may come my way. I am also better equipped to wait with virtuous patience during the times between blessed moments of happiness.

I’m not sure yet, but I’m thinking of starting a photography experiment. A series of self-portraits. Maybe.

This is one of the best songs from one of the best concerts…

I wonder if you can even see the extreme hypocrisy in it.

It’s juvenile and selfish. It’s frustrating in its inherent cruelty. And in the end, it’s making me question whether you’re good enough to be my friend at all. After everything we’ve been through and all that I’ve done for your sake, it turns out you might not be good enough for me anyway.

One of the things that I have learned over the last few months is simply to accept that things happen that I have no control over. As I’ve been able to get better at doing that (and hopefully continue to get better at it), I’ve found that I have less need to try to understand why they happen. For example, it no longer matters to me to try to understand why my wife gave up on our marriage and relationship. The simple fact is that she did, and that’s the end right there.

Please don’t misunderstand me, I’m not suggesting that this means I shouldn’t try to learn the lessons that I can from what has happened – and I am certainly trying to learn those lessons and to avoid making the same mistakes. I’m a new mistake man now.

At the same time, agonising over every little clue or glimpse or shred of explanation of why she did what she did and why she made her choices is relatively pointless. Deeds are done, choices are made and results are what they are.

At the same time that I’m getting significantly better at accepting things, it’s been sad to see that my wife is no good at it at all. When she told me that she didn’t want to try to save our marriage or relationship I responded calmly and advised her that I would need to take some time with a clean break in order to work through things. This is something that we had discussed several times both in and out of counselling and our counsellor had endorsed my position as a reasonable one.

Even so, my wife has expressed to me on several occasions now her extreme hurt at my reaction.

I find it very strange that she can see no imbalance in ending our marriage and yet still expecting me to be available to her and fully supportive of her at any time she may need it.

There are other things that are interesting. I had expressed my willingness to stay in written contact, in the hope that we may be able to build a friendship at some point in the future. Recently I wrote to her at the email address she has published on her facebook page. I received a reply that was polite but among other things informed me that it was intrusive of me to use this email address that is available to the world at large.

All in all, I think that despite my sadness at the loss of our marriage and relationship, it looks like I might be coping with the consequences of that decision a lot better than she is.

It’s tricky for me to remember at times when I am struck by this realisation that it is no longer my job or responsibility to offer her comfort and support at this time. It wouldn’t be healthy for either of us if I did.

Even so, I wish her well. I really do hope that she finds whatever it is that she needs from life and that she is able to find some peace, comfort and security within herself.