I thought I’d begin this blog (not quite knowing what I will use it for yet), with an extract from a book that I shelved called ‘Fresh Air Conditioning’. This is the opening, the book was written in the first person narrative, the character speaking is called Tristan (named after my favorite Dada poet Tristan Tzara):
Introduction
Male. Early twenties, seeks religious faith for fun, excitement, companionship and maybe something more serious. Must have a good sense of humour and be flexible.
No time-wasters please.
These are the words I might have chosen if it were possible to place an advertisement in a local newspaper to find a spiritual path. I come from a generation that lives and breathes the language of advertising. This generation is sometimes called ‘Y’. We are the children of the Baby Boomers (those born between the years 1946-1964) and Generation X (those born between 1965-1977). We have been called the MTV Generation and the Dotcom Generation but I think a more appropriate name would be the Mobile Generation. We were the first generation to be educated with computers, we grew up with the Internet, CCTV, credit and debit cards, 24-hour news, mobile phones and thousands of Boeing 747s flying above our heads. We were a generation without a spokesperson, a collective face or an identity. We were ‘millennials’ who had grown accustomed to hearing apocalyptic prophecies about our not-so-distant future. After all, Generation X only leaves Y and Z.
Like everyone else in my generation I was searching for something to believe in, something that really mattered. I remember watching the old news footage of Vietnam War protestors – the sheer red anger and determination in their eyes, the belief in standing up for something they knew was worthwhile… I wanted that feeling. I wanted to have a positive impact on the world I inherited, yet stay comfortable in my easy 21st-century existence. I knew I had to find a purpose, a meaning for everything I had experienced.
Without directly knowing it, by the time I reached the blissfully ignorant age of 22, I was actively seeking God. I looked in books, cathedrals, art galleries, museums and I even looked in the mirror, but wherever I searched I could not find that spiritual connection. As it turns out, I actually found God in the most unexpected of places – at Heathrow Airport.
