Tag Archives: dailyprompt

Most Storms Pass

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What’s the best advice you’d give to someone younger than you?

The older I get, the more I realise that life isn’t about avoiding mistakes.

It’s about surviving them.

When we’re young, every setback feels enormous. Every wrong decision feels permanent. Every failure feels like the end of the world.

It isn’t.

Trust me.

You will make mistakes.

Some small.

Some spectacular.

Some that will keep you awake at three in the morning replaying conversations that happened years ago.

At the time, those mistakes will feel overwhelming. You’ll be tempted to react immediately, to panic, to assume everything is ruined.

But very rarely is anything as catastrophic as it first appears.

Pause.

Take a moment.

Evaluate the situation before reacting.

Ask yourself what can be learned from it.

Because that’s really all any of us can do.

Learn.

Adapt.

Move forward.

The same applies to relationships.

At some point, someone will break your heart.

At another point, if you’re honest with yourself, you may end up breaking someone else’s.

Neither experience is pleasant.

Both hurt.

And in those moments it can genuinely feel as though the world has ended.

It hasn’t.

The sun still rises.

Life keeps moving.

And eventually, so will you.

What feels unbearable today often becomes the lesson you’re grateful for tomorrow.

That doesn’t mean the pain isn’t real.

It is.

But pain has a strange habit of becoming wisdom if we allow ourselves to learn from it.

Looking back, many of the experiences I once wished had never happened turned out to be the very things that helped shape me into who I am today.

The failures taught resilience.

The heartbreak taught empathy.

The mistakes taught humility.

None of it was wasted.

So if I could offer one piece of advice, it would simply be this:

Don’t sweat the little stuff.

Life is going to throw enough challenges your way without you carrying the weight of every minor inconvenience as well.

Most things work themselves out.

Most storms pass.

Most worries never become reality.

As a Buddhist mantra reminds us:

Dhairyaṁ, kṣaṇa kṣaṇa, siddhiḥ.

Patience, moment by moment, brings accomplishment.

Sometimes growth doesn’t happen in giant leaps.

Sometimes it happens one difficult day at a time.

One lesson at a time.

One breath at a time.

Keep going.

You’ll get there.

Stay safe,

Bc

Inspired by Those Who Speak for the Unheard

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Who are you most inspired by?

Truthfully, I’m inspired by other poets.

Not necessarily the famous (stuffy) ones in textbooks, but the ones who use words as a torch rather than a decoration. The poets who shine a light into dark corners and make people stop and look at the injustices we’ve learned to ignore.

The ones who write about poverty, inequality, mental health, discrimination, and the struggles that so many people carry in silence.

I’ve always admired the idea that a poem can be more than a collection of pretty words. It can be a protest. A witness statement. A hand reaching out to someone who thought they were alone.

Outside of poetry, I’d probably say the Buddha. Not because of religion, but because of the emphasis on compassion, self-awareness, and reducing suffering where we can. In a world that often rewards noise and division, there’s something powerful about choosing kindness and understanding instead.

If my writing ever achieves anything worthwhile, I’d hope it’s that it encourages people to look at each other with a little more empathy than they did before.

Stay safe,

Bc

The Skill Nobody Realises They Have

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If you could instantly master any skill, what would it be and why?

This is one of those questions that sounds simple until you really stop and think about it.

Most people would probably choose something impressive. Speaking every language on Earth. Playing the piano like a virtuoso. Flying a plane. You know, the sort of things that make people say, “Wow.”

Me?

I’d choose something that most people seem to arrive in the world already knowing how to do.

I’d instantly master social interaction.

Not public speaking. Not networking. Just the everyday ability to effortlessly understand social cues, body language, facial expressions, hidden meanings, and all those unwritten rules that neurotypical people seem to absorb without ever being given the instruction manual.

For many autistic people, myself included, social interaction can feel a bit like being handed a board game halfway through and discovering everyone else knows the rules except you. You spend years trying to work out why people say one thing but mean another, why “fine” rarely means fine, and why apparently there are seventeen different meanings to the phrase “we should catch up sometime.”

I’ve spent much of my life trying to crack that code. Sometimes successfully. Sometimes with all the grace and elegance of a Labrador trying to ice skate.

It would be nice to simply know.

To walk into a room and immediately understand the atmosphere. To spot when somebody wants a conversation to end. To recognise when somebody needs support without them having to spell it out in words the size of house bricks.

That would be a superpower worth having.

Although…

There is another skill that runs it very close.

Cooking.

More specifically, being able to cook and bake to the same standard as Mrs Bob.

Now before anyone starts, this isn’t about competition. I’ve seen Mrs Bob in action in the kitchen. Challenging her would be like turning up at Wimbledon because you’ve recently bought a tennis racket.

No, I’d simply like to be able to help more.

As we get older, it would be nice to occasionally wander into the kitchen and confidently announce, “I’ve got this, love.”

Not before producing something that either came from a freezer drawer or required pressing a button marked Start.

A proper meal.

The sort of meal where the smoke alarm remains completely uninvolved.

Or perhaps a birthday cake.

Not one that leans suspiciously to one side and looks as though it’s survived a natural disaster, but a genuinely lovely homemade cake. Something made entirely by me to show just how much I love and appreciate everything she does.

Because the truth is, social skills might make life easier.

But being able to put a smile on Mrs Bob’s face with something I’ve made myself?

That’s a pretty tempting choice too.

Stay safe,

BC

Old Sci-Fi, New Memories

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What’s a book, movie, or TV show that you wish you could experience again for the first time?


That’s actually an easy one for me because it’s both a book and a TV show, so it’s two birds with one stone.

Without a doubt, it would be The Red Dwarf Omnibus, which contains the novels Infinity Welcomes Careful Drivers and Better Than Life.

These were fantastic books and, of course, they led to one of my all-time favourite TV series, Red Dwarf. If you’ve somehow never come across it, it’s the story of Dave Lister, the last human alive, travelling through space with a hologram, a creature that evolved from a cat, and a rather sarcastic computer. It sounds ridiculous when you describe it like that, but it worked brilliantly.

The books expanded on the universe in ways the TV show couldn’t and gave much more background to the characters. I remember being completely absorbed by them and wishing there was more when I’d finished.

The TV series itself brings back some great memories too.

When new episodes were being broadcast, I’d often head over to a friend’s house in the village on a Friday evening. We’d spend a few hours listening to music, chatting about whatever was important to teenagers at the time, and generally hanging out before settling down to watch the latest episode of Red Dwarf on the BBC. Afterwards I’d jump on my bike and cycle home, usually replaying the best bits of the episode in my head all the way back.

Those were good times.

As an interesting side note, many years later I actually got the chance to meet and interview two members of the Red Dwarf cast at a local Comic-Con event. It’s always nice when people connected with something you enjoyed growing up turn out to be as friendly and entertaining in person as you’d hoped.

Myself with Kryten (Robert Llewelyn)

Talking about revisiting old favourites, I did actually manage something similar recently.

When I was younger, I vaguely remembered a science-fiction series that I absolutely loved, but over the years the details became increasingly hazy. Partly that’s just age catching up with me, but a traumatic brain injury when I was 30 certainly didn’t help matters.

The series was called The Invaders and followed architect David Vincent, who accidentally discovers that aliens have infiltrated Earth and are quietly trying to take over the planet.

For a late-1960s television series, I remembered the effects being fantastic. The aliens looked completely human but had no heartbeat, didn’t bleed, and when killed would glow bright red before disappearing into nothingness. Conveniently for them, that made proving their existence rather difficult.

As luck would have it, Mrs Bob bought me the complete box set.

Invaders box set

I’ve recently finished watching the first series and have thoroughly enjoyed it. Yes, some of the action scenes are very much of their time. A quick judo chop to the neck sends the bad guy unconscious, much like classic Star Trek, and some of the fight choreography won’t trouble modern stunt coordinators. But that’s part of the charm.

What’s been fascinating is that I have virtually no memory of seeing it the first time around, so in many ways I really have been able to experience it almost as if it were new again.

And that’s probably why I’d choose Red Dwarf if I could wipe one story from my memory and enjoy it all over again for the first time.

Although having said that, rediscovering The Invaders has come pretty close.

Stay safe 

Bc

The Little Things Are the Big Things

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What’s a common misconception people have about happiness?

One of the biggest misconceptions people have about happiness is that it arrives with success.

That somehow happiness is parked in the driveway beside the flashy car, hidden behind the front door of the big house, or tucked away in a bank balance that resembles the GDP of a small country.

The truth?

Most of the happiest moments in my life have cost absolutely nothing.

They’ve been the quiet evenings sat on the sofa until 2am with Mrs Bob, not doing anything particularly exciting, just enjoying each other’s company. They’ve been impromptu dances on the beach on a Sunday morning. They’ve been sunny afternoons sat in the shed with Tiddles, listening to the world go by.

No fireworks.

No fanfare.

Just moments.

The trouble is that we spend so much time chasing the next big thing that we forget to appreciate the small things already sitting right in front of us.

Happiness isn’t a destination. It isn’t something waiting for us once we’ve earned enough money, bought enough possessions, or impressed enough strangers.

It’s a state of mind.

A choice to notice the warmth of a cup of coffee, the laughter of someone you love, the comfort of a familiar companion, or the peace of a quiet afternoon.

Life is made up of little moments.

The secret is realising they were the important ones all along.

Stay safe,

Bc

Becoming the Photographer I Pretended to Be

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What is one way you have grown this year?

If you’d asked me at the start of the year what I was, I’d probably have answered, “A poet cosplaying as a photographer.”

Photography has always been something I loved, but if I’m honest, I never really took myself seriously. I was happy enough wandering around with a camera, taking pictures of birds, nature, and whatever happened to catch my eye, while quietly convincing myself that “real photographers” were other people.

This year, I decided to change that.

Rather than treating photography as a hobby I occasionally dabbled in, I made a conscious decision to push myself outside of my comfort zone and see what would happen if I actually gave it a proper go.

As it turns out, sometimes the universe rewards you for taking a chance.

Earlier this year, I was offered a place on the photography team at a local event. It might not seem like a huge thing to some people, but for me it was a turning point. It was the moment I realised that perhaps I wasn’t just pretending after all.

Don’t get me wrong, imposter syndrome still likes to whisper in my ear from time to time. It tells me I’m not good enough, that I’m making it up as I go along, and that sooner or later someone will realise I haven’t got a clue what I’m doing.

The difference now is that I no longer believe it.

I’ve learned that growth isn’t about becoming fearless. It’s about taking the next step despite the fear. It’s about backing yourself, taking opportunities when they appear, and accepting that occasionally you’ll stumble along the way.

And if I do fall?

I’ll pick myself up, dust myself off, and try again.

So the biggest way I’ve grown this year is simple.

I’ve finally become the poet and photographer my business cards have been insisting I was all along.

Stay safe,

Bc

To My Younger Self

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What is something you wish you could tell your 20-year-old self?

If I could tell my 20-year-old self one thing, it would be this: keep going. Life feels confusing, overwhelming, and at times completely impossible right now, but things do get better.

 The struggles you’re facing aren’t because you’re broken, weak, or failing. The truth is, it’s not schizophrenia or bipolar disorder at all — it’s autism, and understanding that will eventually make so much of your life make sense. 

So stick at it. One day you’ll look back and realise you survived far more than you ever thought you could.

Stay safe,

BC

Mars: A Destination, Not an Escape Plan

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Do you think humans will ever colonize Mars? What would life there actually look like?

The short answer is yes, I think humans will probably establish some form of permanent presence on Mars eventually. Whether that deserves the grand title of “colonization” is another matter entirely.

Human beings have always been explorers. We crossed oceans, climbed mountains, and sailed into places that previous generations thought unreachable. Mars feels like the next chapter in that story. The technology is advancing, the ambition certainly exists, and there are powerful voices arguing that becoming a multi-planet species is essential for humanity’s long-term survival.

But before we get carried away with visions of thriving Martian cities beneath glass domes, it is worth asking a more uncomfortable question:

Why are we so eager to leave a planet we are still struggling to look after?

Earth is not merely our point of origin. It is, so far as we know, the only place in the universe where forests breathe, oceans teem with life, and countless species coexist in an astonishingly complex web. Yet we continue to pollute rivers, destroy habitats, overconsume resources, and alter the climate at a pace that many ecosystems struggle to adapt to.

There is something slightly ironic about dreaming of transforming an entire planet when we have not yet learned how to live sustainably on the one that already supports us.

Mars is often portrayed as a backup plan. In reality, it would be a brutally hostile world. The atmosphere is far too thin to breathe. Radiation levels are dangerous. Temperatures can plunge to extremes that make Antarctica seem welcoming. Even the dust may pose serious health risks. Any early settlers would live inside sealed habitats, dependent on technology for air, water, food, and survival itself.

Life there would probably look less like a science-fiction adventure and more like a permanent research station. Imagine a cross between a submarine, an Antarctic base, and a greenhouse. Every litre of water would be recycled. Every kilogram of food would matter. Every piece of equipment would need maintenance. The simple act of stepping outside would require a spacesuit.

In many ways, Mars would remind us just how extraordinary Earth really is.

Perhaps that is the greatest value of exploring Mars. Not as an escape route, but as a mirror. A stark, red reminder of what a living planet is worth.

I am not opposed to Mars exploration. Scientific discovery has always expanded human understanding, and there is much we can learn from venturing beyond our world. But I am wary of the narrative that suggests we can neglect one planet because another might someday be available.

A species that cannot live responsibly on Earth is unlikely to suddenly become wise and sustainable on Mars.

So yes, I think humans may eventually build settlements there. They may mine ice, grow food under artificial lights, and establish small communities beneath protective shelters. But if we ever reach that point, I hope we do so having first learned the lessons that Earth has been trying to teach us all along.

The future of humanity may indeed include Mars.

But our responsibility begins here.

Stay safe

Bc

Someone Took a Chance

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What notable things happened today?

Today is a bit of a milestone for me.

I’ve got my first ever photography job.

Well, I say job — I’m one of the official volunteer photographers for this year’s Pride event in Torbay.

It might not be a paid position, but it’s the first time someone has looked at my photography and thought, “Yes, let’s give him a chance.”

More importantly, it’s an opportunity to learn. I’ll get to experience what happens behind the scenes on a real assignment; taking the photographs, editing them, and delivering the finished images rather than just pretending to be a photographer in my spare time.

Everyone starts somewhere, and today feels like the first real step on that journey.

So, fingers crossed, wish me luck, and let’s see what happens.

Stay safe,

Bc

The Poetry That Saved My Life

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What are you passionate about?

People often ask me what I’m passionate about.

The answer usually surprises them.

Sure, I love comic books. I love photography. And I’m definitely passionate about Mrs Bob—but that’s a story for another day.

The thing that truly sets my soul on fire is poetry and mental health awareness.

At first glance, they might seem like two completely different worlds. One is art. The other is survival.

But for me, they’re inseparable.

Because poetry helped save my life.

More than twenty years ago, I wasn’t the happy, well-adjusted bloke many people know today. In truth, I was a mess. My mental health was spiralling dangerously out of control. I was drinking heavily, drowning emotions I didn’t understand, and convincing myself that I had to carry every burden alone.

Like many men of my generation, I believed I had to “man up.”

Keep quiet.

Stay strong.

Don’t talk about it.

But silence can be a dangerous thing.

There were times when the darkness became so overwhelming that I tried to end my life. More than once.

Eventually, after waking up in the resuscitation room of my local hospital following one particularly close call, something shifted inside me. Looking back now, I realise it was a crossroads.

I could continue pretending everything was fine until it killed me.

Or I could ask for help.

I chose help.

Not because I was brave.

Not because I suddenly had all the answers.

But because I looked at my two young children and realised I couldn’t leave them growing up without a father.

For the first time in my life, I stopped trying to fight alone.

One of the professionals helping me suggested I start writing down my thoughts and emotions. The idea was simple: get the chaos out of my head and onto paper so I could begin to understand it.

At first, I filled notebook after notebook with late-night scribbles. Thoughts. Fears. Anger. Pain. Hope. Anything that was bouncing around inside my head.

Then something unexpected happened.

As I read back through those pages, I started arranging some of the words into verses. The emotions were still raw and chaotic, but now they had rhythm and shape.

It wasn’t poetry as I know it today.

It was closer to rap lyrics.

But it was the beginning.

The real turning point came when I wrote a piece for a family member’s naming ceremony. Afterwards, people kept asking me where I’d found the poem.

When I told them I’d written it myself, they seemed genuinely surprised.

And so was I.

For the first time, I allowed myself to think:

Maybe I’m a poet.

Over the following two decades, I spent countless hours learning, practising, refining and developing my craft. Every poem taught me something new—not just about writing, but about myself.

In the early days, poetry was my pressure valve.

A way of releasing everything that threatened to consume me.

My work was dark.

Unflinching.

Sometimes uncomfortable.

I wrote about depression, self-harm, suicide and the realities of living with poor mental health. Topics many people preferred not to talk about.

But those conversations mattered.

They still do.

Today, my writing covers a wider range of subjects. There’s more light alongside the darkness. More hope alongside the pain.

Yet mental health remains close to my heart.

Particularly men’s mental health.

I’ve been inspired by some incredible slam poets and advocates who have used their voices to challenge the outdated belief that men should suffer in silence. The idea that being strong means never showing vulnerability. The lie that asking for help is weakness.

Because it isn’t.

Real strength is speaking up.

Real strength is reaching out.

Real strength is staying.

The truth is that there are countless blokes out there who are fighting battles nobody else can see. Men who smile on the outside while struggling desperately on the inside. Men who believe they’re alone.

They’re not.

And that’s why I keep writing.

Because somewhere, someone might be reading these words and recognising a piece of themselves.

Someone who feels exhausted.

Someone who feels trapped.

Someone who is standing closer to the edge than anyone realises.

If my poetry, my story, or my words can make just one person pause for a moment and choose to talk to someone—anyone—instead of suffering alone, then every difficult chapter of my journey has been worthwhile.

Because poetry didn’t just give me a voice.

It gave me a future.

And if sharing that future helps someone else find theirs, then I’ll keep writing for as long as I have words left to write.

Stay safe

Bc