Category Archives: Random

Now What?

She plays the trumpet in her bedroom, eyes closed. He spills all his passion into his lyrics. The beat moves his body as he jumps on stage.

The motivational speaker scrunches her forehead, irises burning. The therapist does his utmost to change the trajectory of his client’s hurtling demise.

I watch. I listen. I feel a surge of emotion, a prickle upon the skin. A tingling that reminds me to really live.

It’s my duty to inhale all this beauty and passion, to embody it, and to create some of my own.

A year later, I wake up from a slumber of day-to-day and it-is-what-it-is, and I ask myself some questions. Where am I going? Why? What’s my purpose? If nothing changes in my life, how will I be?

Fear. Paralysis. Stuck. Yes, I’m much improved but shouldn’t I be doing more?

What do I actually want? Where do I want to be? Do I even know?

The motivational speaker makes me feel inadequate. So does the therapist.

Where’s my drive? My ambition? My business-savvy?

I experience an uncomfortable shaking within. Maybe I’m scared of being pushed. But I brought myself to these questions.

So despite the tremble and the choking sensation at my throat, I take a look at my life and ask myself what it is that I want. What do I need to do? And when will I do it?

I’m inspired to do more, to reach higher, to push past the layers of insecurity to a belief that I deserve an existence of abundance, passion and freedom.

And where will that take me? To more of this, here? Or to a new start in a land of sunshine and opportunity?

Will I be writing books and launching podcasts? Or will I succumb to a 9-5 with a regular salary?

What’s next? Putting myself out there? Knock-backs and tears? Or persistence and resilience?

Hitting rock bottom so the only way is up again? Again?

All the while learning to feel the feelings – depressed, scared, victorious and in love – so I can open up and enjoy an authentic relationship with myself and my life.

What should my goals be? To have children? Buy a house? Get a pension? Make a living doing what I love, helping others, and living a rich, balanced, healthy, fulfilling life?

Will my parents worry at my continual shunning of the norm? But I’m an adult. And this is my life. I have to make it my own.

Will I remain childless and regret it? Or could I have a lifetime of affection and adventure with my partner instead?

Will I lose my loved ones and go through unbearable grief? Or will I be granted many priceless years of love and happiness?

Will I keep on this road of growth, gratitude and wonderful surprises, trusting that everything works out for the best?

Who got to decide the basics for us all anyway? Five weekdays and we’ll name Saturday and Sunday the weekend. By this age, you should be starting a family. And we’ll award you a mortgage and the next 35 years of making sure you’ve enough to make the payments.

I don’t do 9-5, weekdays or weekends. And what if I never get married, buy a house, bear children or secure a pensionable job?

Does that make me a fool? Should I live my life the way it’s been drawn out for the masses?

Am I fucked or free? Do I need to tie myself down so one day, before it’s too late, I can fly?

But I still hear her blowing that trumpet. And his heart’s splayed open in that tune he sings. And the globe is pulsing with possibility. Yet my bank balance is not enough. Not enough.

So I remove my gaze from the clouds. I place my feet on the ground, my hands on my hips, and my chest to the sky. Now what?

crossroads

Artist: John Berry, Illustration Source

 

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The Warrior

There is always something to think, to worry about, to get angry over. Always some drama, a problem to figure out, a decision to make.

With this realisation, I detach, let go, and travel within. The thoughts form and dissolve. The movie of my life still plays on. But I turn down the volume and focus within.

I connect with a deep sense of peace, a groundedness. I listen. I breathe.

Like a novice snorkeller in a world of underwater magic. Astonished by the beauty. Yet all I can hear is my breathing.

I could be lifted from this peace and wonder by an unconscious wandering to wherever my thoughts whimsically transport me. Or I could choose, moment by moment, to return to the present and to appreciate what’s before me, what’s part of me, what I really am.

A slice of this miracle of life presents itself to me. I come to my senses. I savour in the deliciousness of it all. I’m nourished. Whole.

No fear any more. Really. Although there’s still fear, insecurity, discomfort, dangling into the chasm of the unknown.

A lifetime of clinging and scrambling. Dictatorially and unintelligently controlling. Resisting, closing, lashing out against the emotions and the people who triggered me.

Now, I make a different choice. I lean in. Allow. Listen. And with that, comes relief. Learning. Growth. Strength.

I am a warrior in my courage to feel, to be, to connect with others, even though I could be wounded at any moment.

I shrug off my armour and lay down my shield. I no longer point my sword threateningly at the sky. I bare my heart to the heavens.

I have never seen a warrior so vulnerable. Yet she closes her eyes just to feel the sunlight on her skin.

Nature congratulates her with pink and white blossoms, yellows and purples and oranges. Trees reveal themselves to her. Birdsong replaces her soundtrack of doubt. The universe is full.

Her body now free to embrace those she loves. And that has to be everyone. Everything. Herself. Myself. My movie and my constantly altering reviews and reactions.

I drop judgment. I wince at the pain of unhooking attachments.

With loss, there’s lightness. An opening, a flow. A current of love. A deep-seated peace.

I go within and feel calm. I open so that I can live.

I feel a tingling of love wash over me. I understand. I know. I connect.

As soon as I see clearly, my goggles fog over again. For it goes beyond my limited ways of words, analysis and explanation.

It just is. As I am. And I will remember again and again.

meditation sun

Sometimes

Do you ever feel so bad about yourself that you can’t fathom that great things could happen? You don’t believe in yourself. You forget all the good that you do.

Sometimes.

You close yourself off to all the love that surrounds you. You compare yourself unfavourably to others and see everyone else as confident, successful, flourishing…

You focus on the negatives. You spot rejection, failure and disappointment in every comment, action and imagination.

Sometimes.

You push loved ones away then hate yourself more for doing so. For self-destructively banishing what you crave: love, care and affection.

They try to love you. They offer you acceptance. But deep down, you’re never going to measure up or be worthy of their naive loving of you.

You shut down the love. You silence the laughter. You dare not believe in your potential. It frightens you.

You sob. You cry. You let go. You open up. You let him in.

Sometimes.

A smile breaks through. You can’t help but laugh. He’s so good.

He sees the best in you. You want to be that person. And one day, as you sip on a coffee in the afterglow of his presence, you realise that you are.

You are that bouncing, brave, beautiful person that he admires. But you block yourself.

Sometimes.

You think thoughts and you believe them. You identify with the bad.

You stop dancing. You don’t feel the music. You forget who you are. You exist but you cease living.

Sometimes.

While the real you simmers patiently beneath. Always there. Waiting for you to shake off the shackles and rejoin the dance.

Ready to roar in perfection. And smile and love and shine. And be free.

He loves you because finally you remember that you love you. You just don’t believe it.

Sometimes.

Image: Author's Own

Image: Author’s Own

Life.

Yesterday morning, I walked. The wind stirred the leaves, mimicking a melody of foaming sea to shore.

Yesterday evening, I received very sad news that had me sobbing.

Last night, I worked at the laptop. My housemate came in and out of the room, making welcome conversation.

This morning, I panted on a gym floor.

This evening, I made dinner for a couple of family members in need.

Now, I put on my favourite tunes and hike up the speakers. For just a few moments, the sun escapes from behind the stubborn clouds and beams directly on to my smiling face.

And I dance.

Great-Great Advice

I’m going to share with you a brief but worthwhile exercise from Prof Steve Peters’ book The Chimp Paradox: The Mind Management Programme for Confidence, Success and Happiness.

 Imagine you are 100 years old and on your death-bed with one minute left to live. Your great-great-grandchild asks, ‘Before you die, tell me what I should do with my life.’

Pause for a moment and try to immediately and honestly answer this question. You have just one minute.

Answering this question, according to Prof Steve Peters, will identify what is important to you. It is what life is all about for you. It is your ‘Life Force’.

Whatever your advice was for your great-great-grandchild is really the advice you need to hear. If you’re not living by this advice, which is the essence of your existence, you are living a lie.

“Don’t live a lie,” urges Prof Steve Peters because, “it will unsettle you more than anything else.”

My advice for my great-great-grandchild is to: “Be happy and really really live your life.”

So how can one be happy?

On Friday night, I watched a movie called Hector and the Search for Happiness. This uplifting film is about a psychiatrist who takes himself on a journey around the globe to research what makes people happy.

Without giving too much away, Hector discovers that happiness shouldn’t be the end-goal of the things we do. Rather, we should do the things we like to do and then happiness will emerge as a pleasant side-effect.

One of the most common barriers to happiness that Hector diagnoses is the destructive habit of making comparisons. When we believe that others are happier, more successful and better looking than us, we fail to feel content where we are. We ignore all the positives that are right there in front of us, waiting to be appreciated.

It’s simple really. Happiness is a choice. Do the things that bring you happiness, and appreciate and enjoy all that you have and all that you are.

The second part of my message to my great-great-grandchild is to really really live life. Are we not already living our lives seen as we are alive, you ask? Yes, of course we are. But there’s a difference between living and really really living. And I want to really really live my life.

Really really living means getting out there to experience, explore, learn, grow and expand. It means being present to beauty, to nature and to love.

It’s in the sharing and connecting with other human beings and with all living things. It’s in the embracing and supporting. It’s in our tears and in our laughter.

It’s when we dance, sing, hike and swim. It’s in inspiring and being inspired. This for me is really really living.

Am I following my own advice? Am I being happy and really really living? For the most part, yes. Then sometimes, I compare. I think too much. I worry. I complain.

I wish things were different and I turn my back on the abundance that’s right here right now. I shut myself into a safe, boring, compact box and forget that there’s a glimmering world out there and I can do anything. Anything.

And then somehow life reminds me that it wants to be really really lived. And I thoroughly agree.

What advice would you give your great-great grandchild? Are you practising what you preach? If not, listen to yourself. You’re a wise one!

imagesbuddy.com

imagesbuddy.com

The Inner Family

I’m currently rereading Anodea Judith’s excellent book Eastern Body, Western MindThis morning, I completed an exercise on the Inner Family that I’m going to share with you.

Anodea Judith suggests making a list of the various parts of yourself. You might include the inner child, the clown, the achiever, the lover, the critic, and so on. In my case, I listed the lost child, the inner child, the lover, the romantic, the fearful one, and the warrior.

Next to each name on the list, write a few words describing how you perceive this part of yourself.

For example, I could describe the inner child as playful, curious or innocent. The lost child might be scared and alone. The lover is open, present and sensual. The romantic believes in love. The fearful one anticipates that bad things will happen. And the warrior is stunning, strong and skilled.

Now, write down what you think each part wants. My inner child wants to experience. The lost child wants to be loved. The lover wants to make love. The romantic wants to connect. The fearful one wants peace. And the warrior wants to live.

Ask yourself how often these parts succeed in getting what they want. How realistic are their desires? And what can be done to bring them into wholeness?

In order to bring the various parts of myself into wholeness, I can connect with people, including myself. I can be open to relationship and to love. I can meditate, rest and be still. I can be in nature, surround myself with beauty, and go on adventures. Using all of my senses, I can make love with life every single day. I can be present, really live, relax, allow and enjoy.

The final part of this exercise is to look at who relates to whom. For instance, does the critic inhibit the artist? Or does the clown entertain the sad inner child?

I realise that the parts of myself that I listed seem to go in pairs. The loving, playful inner child is the lost child’s reassuring companion. The confident lover and the dreamy romantic are in perfect partnership. And the warrior protects the fearful one and makes her feel safe.

This is an interesting exercise. Try it and let me know how you get on.

weheartit.com

weheartit.com

Flow

Tonight at an Amber Run gig, I watch as the band becomes immersed in playing. There’s something riveting about witnessing other people express their creativity and passion. It’s exciting to be invited to share the experience.

The vibration of the music pulses through my body. The beat of the drums pulls me in and spurs me on. My hips begin to sway. I raise my arms and close my eyes.

The music moves in me and expresses itself through me. I’m not thinking about how I should dance. And I’m not looking at what other people around me are doing. I’m perfectly happy with myself in the enjoyment of this moment.

Suddenly, I realise that the same concept holds true for life. When we’re present to the now, we’re in the flow. We don’t have to worry about how a thing will unfold. Because when we let go and allow, unfold it will. Beautifully so.

We are the instruments through which life happens. We are the consciousness that sees life happening. And we are life.

A bombshell of awareness and connection implodes and explodes and ripples into infinity. I stand for a while in blissful understanding. Then I smile and rejoin the dance.