Hunger Strike Start. 21st Oct 2021

I have not eaten since Thursday 21st October. Please note this now an official Hunger Strike to point out the absurdity of serving a housing injunction and a possible asb when the victim is still recovering from other ‘Livewest’ tenants punching and kicking him in the face and head in a Hate Crime Attack. I did nothing wrong, the attakers lied to the Police, they always do. I am heartbroken. Please, ALL Comments will be deleted, even well meaning ones.

Addiction or Excuse?

Public shaming is counterproductive and simply wrong (Samantha Smithstein Psy.D.)

Whether it’s food, alcohol, or sex, there are a number of people who react strongly to hearing that someone has engaged in self-destructive behaviors because they are an addict by saying, “Don’t use addiction as an excuse for your behavior! Take responsibility!”

This concept of an “addiction excuse” is relatively new, and while it captures the imagination of those who are hurt, angry, or frustrated by the behavior of an addict, or by someone who lacks basic understanding of addiction, it simply doesn’t hold water for people who are addicts or those who work with people who struggle with addiction. People who speak about addiction as a “convenient excuse for bad behavior” or a “way to not take responsibility,” don’t comprehend what addiction is, and what the experience is like for the person who struggles with it.

Addiction is a psychological and physiological disorder. Even for “process addictions” such as those related to eating, sugar, sex, gambling, and stealing, there is strong scientific evidence that the neurological pathways related to dopamine are activated similarly to an addiction to cocaine. So addiction is not something made up by people to explain something away, it is a real condition, with both biological and psychological underpinnings.

For the vast majority of people who suffer from an addiction or impulse control disorder, acknowledging an addiction is one of the most difficult steps they will ever take. Most are in denial for years, believing in the “free will” that addiction naysayers speak about; addicts want to believe they are in control, and can stop any time they want. Many struggle for years to gain that control and feel deep shame when they fail, again and again.

Acknowledging an addiction, therefore, is an incredibly important first step. No problem can be solved if the problem is not acknowledged. Until someone admits, “I have lost control of this situation and can’t stop myself,” they cannot possibly be open to learning and working on the steps it takes to change their behavior. To the addict, acknowledging an addiction may be the most difficult, shameful, and scary step they take … but is also a crucial first step in saving his or her life. In fact, rather than being about shirking responsibility, acknowledging an addiction is the first step to taking responsibility.

As a society, we must stop shaming them further by telling them that acknowledging their addiction is an “excuse” and that they should “take responsibility for acting badly” and just feel ashamed. Instead, addicts must be supported in their first step and invited to take the many steps— psychological, physiological, spiritual, and emotional—that must take place for them to become well.

Faith (Trigger Warning)

Proverbs 3: 5

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding;

The grief of ‘Hate Crime’ Attacks against me in Looe, Cornwall is, often, unbearable.

My sincere apologies for this sad update blog post.

This image of assault is only one of many. These external wounds from the beating have healed now, but my heart hasn’t.

Today, I was verbally assaulted (Loudly and in ‘Boots’ the chemist as I went to pick up my prescription) by a woman claiming that I had punched her. I never had, it’s untruthful and it’s aim is to distress me. It did just that.

She reported it, I have not been charged. She is one of a group of people in the town targetting me.

By late evening, the shock of these attacks has hit me.

I phone 999 and ask for the police, because more than anything – I want to take my own life.

The police call handler was so incredibly kind and knew there were ongoing investigations on my behalf.

She was empathetic and sympathetic. I exlain my autism and stimming. she could tell that I as having a major panic attack.

Gently and kindly she got me to slow my breathing with constant reassurance right throughout.

By the end of the call I felt better. Certainly better enough to go back to bed and continue staying calm.

I am indebted to her.

Faith. While I spend year after year with bullies hurting me over and over again – I have to have faith and courage to withstand the suffering.

I am suffering, of that I have no doubt.

I can see the great great sadness in my own eyes.

I will keep asking for help.

Samaritans Free phone number is: 116 123

Resolute

Survivor. Artist. Poet. Musician. Trained Nurse. Lecturer. Masters Degree Artist. Public Speaker no. 11 Downing Street. Public Speaker for the ‘National Autism Society’ House of Commons. Winner of a Koestler Award. Winner of arts Council Award. Survivor of incest and child sexual abuse. Survivor of Depression. Survivor of maternal thalidomide prescription. Postal Worker. Cleaner. Housekeeper. Diswasher. Community Support Worker. Victim and Survivor of multiple violent Hate Crime Attacks. Comedian, National Theatres. Live Literature , Slam poet, National Arts Venues and Theatres. Worship Leader. Guitarist, Singer/Songwriter. Folders of up to a hundred National Qualifications and Certificates.Never used violence/Never fought Back. Survivor of Police neglect, disability discrimination, homophobia, transphobia. Survivor of abusive relationships and domestic violence. F*** You Haters – I have friends.And Friend. I am a good friend, I open my heart up to others. Always.

Soaring

SOARING

Because Love Is The Stars. Infanite. Beyond Maths. Beyond Math (Americans can’t count, it’s plural)

And I am Smiling now.

Because I am loved and I FEEL that love – I can teaspoon snow and sand and seawater at your door. Whatever you need. I am at Your Door.

And because I feel that I am loved – I can do thisI can move a Mountain.

I am an artist and I can move a Mountain.

Because I am so loved – I can love you too.I am the mountain. I am sure the fuck I can move myself.

Did you ever love someone so much that the potential of loss of them cripple you, turned you to stone, made you marble and steel.

Did You?

Did you ever think that that holding their hand would invite jelousy, badness and pain. Grief and hurt?

Of course you did and you knew that. But, you did it anyway, because your heart told you to. Not Your brain.

Your heart soared with Gulls and Canadian Goose and you knew, like you have always KNOWN.

While resting under apple trees in Countries throughout the world … that the heart always wins. Not the brain. Not some cold fucking Docter.

Your heart always wins the race. From the moment of 123 Go, You Win.Because of your survival default.

Because of all of those whom love you.

Because of all of those who stated you failed. Because of a God whom we tease and braid his hair, gently and in beautiful pinks.

Because of those sunsets.

Because of that music.

Because we believe in compassion, mercy, truth, grace and Love.

This is not a poem. I am just happily drunk on Love. Goodnight.

This is a poem. This is a song. This is Art. Mr. Alyster Gynn. October 2021.

God, for fuck sake don’t make me an artist, poet or musian. Make me an awesome plumber, an electrician a carpenter. Make me someone of use.

Building Confidence

Earlier, in September I was attacked. It was, absolutely terrifying. My friends on Social Media helped me so much. Here is my Thank You to them:

‘Update. Thank You for your kind responses after my recent traumatic experience. Again, my apologies if I don’t respond, I am still recovering. As you can see my injuries are healing well, although emotionally and psychologically – I have a long way to go. At first, I was intent on staying indoors and not venturing out or meeting up with my outreach worker. However, I quickly realised that the effects of that isolation would detriment my independence. I have been walking everyday (for hours on end) to get fresh air, exercise and combat the isolation, anxiety and fear. I have not yet been back to Church, but I hope to this coming Sunday. I have been getting food and even made chips tonight and a home made curry sauce. Thank You so much for your kindness everyone it has made the world of difference. You have no idea how grateful I am. Lots of Love, Alyster. ‘

Autumn Days

Since my last bout of depression, I have been constantly walking for hours and cycling. Anything to keep moving. Here is me earlier today with Looe Island behind me.I have been collecting leaf shaped ornaments from charity shops for years. Today I found the little advocado bowls and plates. They are so cute (see picture) the green bowl sits right in the groove of the plate. The wooden led light cross was a gift from my friend Catherine and the dried grasses are picked as a little autumn dried arrangement (of sorts) I’m trying to find ways to nurture my soul. The weather has been beautiful today, but when the rain and cold come, I will still be out walking. And then maybe make one of the recipes from my library book in my slow cooker.❤️ As always, Thank You everyone for your kindness and friendship. x. (oh! and I subscribed to Ultimate guitar chord ap and am currently practicing ‘Knock knock knock on Heaven’s door’.)

Portraiture

Rev Andrew Day and Rev Chloe Jones

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I have framed the two portraits of my Minister, Rev Andy Day, and Priest. Rev Chloe Jones. Liskeard and Looe, Methodist Church District, Cornwall. 

Soon to be on their way to respective manses as a gift of gratitude for their kindness, support, inclusivity, and shocking senses of humour. ❤️

Ps, edit. I also want to paint, yet another Kind Minister – Rev Mark Pengelly, the former Superintendent of our district Methodist Churches. And we share a passion for John Deeres. See Less

Rock The Cornish Tie

Public

‘Good Morning beautiful people. I won’t stay too long on FB, or I will be late for Church. I’m so pleased mine is open again. I tend to get isolated, so it will be lovely seeing friends. ❤️❤️❤️Xxx’

Riverside Church. Looe in Cornwall

I have been so happy this weekend as my Church opened for a service. It’s so good to wear something other than hoodies and joggers.

Hands Dancing

Alyster Gynn

1h  · Shared with Public

Public

Hands Dancing

And what did our hands do?
did they get washed or wash themselves or did we wash them for twenty minutes?

And what did our hands feel?
did they feel the touch of someone loved or someone hated?
did they hold gently with another passing. Passing through?

And what did our hands do?

When everything was locked.
Locked.
Locked. 

Did they find a key to unlock compassion?
Did they find a weapon to unlock more crap, more shit, more hate?

And what did our hands do?
did they help someone up from the pavement?
did they hand out food?
did they raise and vote for more disparity of wealth?
did they find a middle finger to salute a voice of vitriol?
did they take a knife to the rope from the tree to a loved one?

And what did our hands do?
Did they write scribbled notes on a census?
Did they heal From attack?
Did they play a lute, or piano or did they bang on a drum in protest?

What did our hands do?

And what did our hands do before and what do our hands do now and what will our hands do tomorrow?

Did they squeeze themselves into powdered blue rubber gloves to lift a dying woman, a dying child, a new born baby, an old man, a drunken magistrate with his flies left unzipped, a cancer patient waiting for a letter, a homeless person taking their last frost breath of the morning, to check a foetal heartbeat and turn it into vision on the black and white screen, to push a wheelchair into an ambulance, to wipe away spit from a hate crime expert on the streets, to sweep the streets, to tick a vote, to cut his hair, to trim her toenails, to brush their false teeth and gently place them in a bowl by the sink – ensuring the owner would still wake up and smile the next morning

What did our hands do?
Did they grab ass cheeks?
hold a chin and cheeks to gently kiss the end of their nose?
Did they rip the Electric Bill and throat from a loan shark?
Did they sign a name away to wilderness?
Did they silently sign in a language without acoustics?
Did they gesture to friends to come forward?
Did they gesture to friends to fuck off?
Did they grab the world’s weight in toilet paper?

Did they hold themselves up to enemy and provide a feeble defence?

Did they open the door to the street to sing for the Carers?
Did they topple a statue into the river?

Did they put a child to bed and open a jaded storybook and cover a yawn?

Did they shake?
Did they tremble?
Did they reach out?
Did they reach out for help?
Did they push away help?
Did they point a finger in ignorance?

Did they always put on a mask? Did they scramble in a bag or pocket for a mask?

Did they pick up a book?
Did they cook spaghetti?
Did they wipe away tears?
Did they drive a tractor?
Did they scramble for the zoom mute button?
Did thy pick up a phone to fill up a vacuum of loneliness?
Did they open palm in prayer?
Did they slap their owner’s face did they kill?
Did they heal?
Did they pick up a teaspoon to feed the very young and the very old?
Did they save a life?
Did they dance?

Before, during and after

Our hands

Did they dance through

True Colours

A person doesn’t need ‘curing‘ of the richness, beauty and diversity of that which makes that person.

Mr. Alyster Gynn. 2021

update

Easter Weekend.

I am looking forward to Church tomorrow morning. I get the chance to see some lovely friends again and sit within the beautiful architecture of Riverside Church in Looe.Many a time, I have taken great care to write about and openly Thank my priests from the circuit and all of those involved in pastoral care and safeguarding. This has been essential to me and I have been shown so much Love as well as being guided to explore my own heart too and share my art skills and music with as many as possible.

All without judgement and that is essential within a Methodist – or any – religious, spiritual sector when one is openly from (and for his entire lifetime) part of LGBTQIA communities.I also wanted to update you as friends, generally, too.I am, currently, still being ‘safeguarded‘ as a vulnerable adult.

This is with good reason.

I am indebted to those professionals whom are really and cohesively bringing exceptionally high standards of ‘safeguarding practice’ … thus allowing me to still live within a relatively safe environment.But there are still challenges. Organisations, Corporate bodies and even Public Bodies can hold a diverse range of actions, views and interpretations of what ‘Safeguarding’ is.

At a stage, now, when I am able to Zoom and attend Microsoft meetings, it is possible that I have the ‘voice’ to convey my experiences. My apologies that this write up or update sounds like the premise for a Sociology homework assignment. I realise it is dry.

I still have art, music and poetry projects on the go. They stop, however, when my priority becomes more basic and that would be going to the local shops to get food safely. I emphasise SAFELY here.

As always, you know that I am so indebted to Social media friends. Those whom I have met in real time, those whom I hope to meet one day and those whom we meet and share kindness and love through a virtual world. Love transcends via wi-fi and the stars.

Once upon a time ago … I was invited on to the morning BBC and ITV news channels to speak about my experience of Autism (on behalf of The National Autistic Society)A naughty question by a host threw me. It was something like …’and do you hope to be cured.’I didn’t understand, at that time, many years ago the broader context or loaded question toward someone with a ‘communication disorder.’

What I should have replied was … there is no cure for autism and a bloody good job too.In a similar vein, the question of being ‘cured’ of my previous homosexuality or transgender identity would or could echo the same.

There is no cure and a bloody good job too.

A person doesn’t need curing of the richness and diversity of that which makes that person.

The sun is shining here in Cornwall. The seagulls are excited and squawking at the potential of someone dropping a chip. The image is of my favourite lamp. All reclaimed car pieces and a wire curled ball shade. An Edison style bulb. But the poetry is a loose strand of flexible loose wire. And of course I flexed it into a word. Love❤️ Wishing everyone a lovely Easter🐣 I have my shorts on, my legs are like a gnarled chestnut tree. But they remain strong.And in today’s sunshine – My chin will be up.

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