As far back as I can remember I’ve been burdened with a deep-seated inferiority complex about my lack of intellect. This seems ridiculous to others who may be- on paper at least- less well qualified. Yet despite the nine O-levels, two A-levels, my good BA honours degree, and even that Distinction in Speech & Drama at Post Graduate level I still beat myself up for being thick. This stems from always feeling out of my depth as a child- treated by my parents and siblings, my schoolteachers and friends as if I was a bit soft in the head. I can now see that this was the impetus behind me studying so hard for all those years for all those bloody certificates and qualifications. I had a point to prove to ‘Them’, and to my self I suppose. And until relatively recently I have continued to flog myself to achieve some kind of academic status and credibility. And what a VAIN endeavour- in all the senses of that word! For what in the end does it all add up to? I have a career teaching others the same set of values, a career that extols the virtues of those silly academic qualifications. A career I have very little passion for any more.
I have a deep understanding and compassion for the academically challenged, but no sympathy at all for the lazy and wilfully ignorant who constitute the vast majority of my students. But, ironically enough, I reserve my most poisonous contempt for those who are gifted and lazy/ungrateful.. I earned all I have with blood, sweat and tears. I fucking worked for it without having any real natural aptitude. And yet I still find myself advocating the meaning of qualifications with no real faith in their importance- the chasing after the spurious and empty credibility of ‘decent grades’ and ultimately meaningless qualifications.

And yet here I sit in my study this evening, drafting an application for an MA in Acting Classical and Contemporary Text for the RSAMD. I ran out of space on the form listing all my qualifications and relevant experience. And yes, OK, it will be nice to have another piece of paper, assuming I get accepted on the course and do well enough; but- you know what?- for once in my life this is not why I am considering putting myself through the torture of formal education again. Because for once it isn’t fear of humiliation or failure that motivates me any more. It’s love.

And, yes, I know how just how lame that sounds. But these last two or three years I have begun to get in touch with transformations taking place at a very profound, ineffable level. I have found myself gradually shifting my focus away from the strivings of 'achievement' and egoic 'point scoring', and towards a far richer and more soulful- and actually quite self-effacing and humbling- perspective. And this is for me a paradigm shift. Of course to the outside eye I still look like I'm the same old me. But I’ve worked hard at finding a way through the fog of ‘adulthood’- a constructed identity that has grown quite dense around m. I've begun to value the importance of my latent gifts for connection with spirit- the child-like creative play where life has its true beginnings. “My Highest for His Best” has far less to do with being recognised for cleverness now than it ever has before. I have learned (un-learned?) to now be truly grateful for simple Passion and Devotion, to apply myself to the gifts of Kindness, of Faith to plain and untestable convictions. I know that far more than Knowledge and Understanding I seek Connection and Flow with my divine source- the Light, or the Seed, as we Quakers are wont to call it. Love. If I get accepted on this course it is not so I can improve my employment prospects. It's not so I can share my expertise with others in the classroom either. I am simply anticipating the unadulterated joy of expanding my consciousness at unplumbed levels, and most probably in ways I will never be able to fully articulate or justify to any one else. This will sound ridiculous to everyone else- especially other drama students and even the lecturers. I am looking to explore the profound union between my spirit and my art. But I can’t write that on my application form or I risk coming across as a time-waster/ wanker/ nutter. So I’m forced to trot out the predictable empty bollocks about 'augmenting my skils', 'enhancing my employment prospects', blah, blah, blah...

Utter shite of course. I don't actually care if they fail me.

No, this is something to do with becoming that ‘mystic without a monastery’ of which Caroline Myss speaks. (Actually, she was in Scotland for 3 days last week, lecturing at Findhorn and I would have loved to have gone along and met her if it hadn’t have been for Tally’s Blood.)
But right now it is much more important I know I am doing this for me…

For God.

And for Love. Pure and simple.
:-)