Everything that Happens to me is Good

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Philosophy and Opinion

By Pete Mills, on 22-04-2008 21:19

I heard it the other day and it made me smile. So much so that I went and made myself a cup of tea. Someone said (with a hint of a scorn, and a peppering of self pity maybe) ‘that Geoff Thompson bloke, he lives a charmed life. He has had it so easy.’ So enjoy International author, martial artist, and BAFTA winning screen writer Geoff Thompson......

Another friend (a fellow writer) tilted a similar lance in my direction; he told me that his lack of commercial success was due to the fact that he has had so many things block his path (poor health, family issues etc). I on the other hand had succeeded only because I’d had it so easy.

He said this like nothing bad has ever happened to me. As though I was somehow impervious to the slings and arrows of life. I have to come clean though. He was right. They were all right. I do live a charmed life and I have had it easy, but not because nothing bad ever happen to me, rather because everything that has happened to me has been good.

Let me try and explain.

My lovely dad died two weeks ago.

It was good.

It was his time and I was pleased that he finally got to matriculate this hard university we call life. It broke my heart to see him suffering so much whilst he was ill. I couldn’t even talk on the phone without breaking down. He had cancer. It found its way to his bones. Then he died. My dad lived a good life. He was a good man. Loved by many. Disliked by none. But he has finished his brief sojourn on this spinning globe and now he is home. And that is not just good it is cause for celebration. He has left me with a great legacy of love and very valuable lessons; how to live bravely. How to die with dignity.

martial arts.jpg One of my gorgeous babies took an overdose of strong pain killers. I got the 5am phone call and my heavy heart bled. A five minute journey to the hospital took a life time and when I got there all the doctors could tell me in prognosis was ‘we won’t know until tomorrow.’

It was a long day. An even longer night.

Some one said ‘terrible what’s happened to your daughter.’ I said ‘what’s happened to my daughter is the best thing that could have happened.’

My girl had fallen into a dark and loveless Chasm where even the voices of her kin could not be heard. She was in a relationship that was imprisoning and dangerously destructive and none of us – not me, not her sisters, and not her mum – could break her out. When she lay in that hospital bed a small voice (somewhere in my consciousness) said to me ‘we are sorry she is here, this is the only way we could get her out’.

I trusted that this was true and it was.

She recovered, she went to uni, she met a nice guy who was appreciative of her beauty and sensitive nature. She is now happy and training to be a teacher. What happened to my daughter saddened me beyond words, but what happened to my daughter was good.

My brother died violently. He was bloated and yellow and ravaged and….so very beautiful. I have never felt such profound love for anyone as I felt for Ray during his five fast days of slow dying. I loved his very bones. But my brother loved the drink and the drink loved my brother. So much so that the love affair killed him. There was more to it than that of course. Drink was his armoury and life was his enemy and….well, you can guess the rest. When he died it was not me he called out for. It was not my mother’s name that bounced and echoed off the hospital walls, nor my dads, nor his four heart broken children. He cried out the name of his drinking companion, another alcoholic that shared his oblivious and sad existence. It was hard. But it was good. The friend that passed the bottle in long days of hard drinking was very human and very broken and he loved my brother and for that reason alone I loved him. I was with Ray as his decaying body buckled and bled and closed down. It was one of the most harrowing experiences of my life. It was also one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. I felt privileged that he chose me to watch his back as he left this life and went into the next room. What happened to my beautiful brother has informed everything I do, everything I write about and everything I think. The lessons he taught me – both good and bad – I pass on. It will, it has and it will again save others.

My brother’s death was good.

I have another family member who is dangerously ill. I can offer no more information than this; the illness is self inflicted. Me and my close family are forced to stand by and watch the slow decline because you can’t save someone who will not be saved. It is her life. It is her body. It is her soul. It is her story. So what is happening obviously needs to happen. It is her journey and it is good because all journeys lead Home and that is ultimately where we are all heading.

I also have my own story. Much of it does not make easy reading, especially my back story. I carry the karma of the hundreds that I martial arts2.jpg fucked up on night club doors when I worked as a doorman; the bouncer. It has been hard to forgive myself. No self pity here. No regrets. It was all good. The pre fight, in fight and post fight have all been excruciatingly good. I am left with the residual ache of remorse, lessons that are as profound as they are stark and reference points that add an empirical wisdom to every new situation that I bring upon myself. Re-living each teeth smashing boot in the mouth, each concussive stamp and each spitting invective has been…..uncomfortable. In my former incarnation as a man of lower consciousness I also fucked around, lost my integrity, betrayed my ex-wife, stole, fenced and hurt my kids with my thoughtless actions. You don’t just do that shit and walk away without debt. The trail follows you until you find the courage to turn and face it and take the atonement that is due. We all have to atone. My actions spawned ten years of karmic residue that have brought me sadness, self hate, guilt, self-harm and illness, but each of these represented a step on the ladder of consciousness that has delivered me to where I am now. A better place. A beautiful place. Physically, mentally and spiritually.
So it has all been good.

Very good.

Especially the experiences that fell into the realms of excess. Because the road of excess (as Blake said) leads to the palace of wisdom. Every excess I indulged produced a lesson so painful, so profound, so earth moving that it permeated my whole consciousness.

Although I vow never to repeat the dark experiences that I brought upon myself I know that life will continue to proffer some of her own. It does have a habit of providing hammer, anvil and furnace to temper every blade. So, if in Her next instruction I find myself revisiting those night places I will do my very best to neither spin nor toil, neither will I complain because it will all be good.

Every thing that happens to me is.

And when folk say ‘that Geoff Thompson bloke, he has got it so easy…’ I will continue to smile. I will continue to drink my tea. Because....I know they’re right. I do.