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Sauff Lundin Overspill, Kent, United Kingdom
I've been told it's like I keep my thoughts in a champagne bottle, then shake it up and POP THAT CORK! I agree...life is for living and havin fun - far too short to bottle up stuff. So POP!...You may think it... I will say it! (And that cork's been popped a few times... check out the blog archive as the base of the page for many more rants and observations!)

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Wednesday 4 June 2014

BLOG 290: Six months later

"Oh well at least you haven't got cancer, my next door neighbours hair dressers mum has it, AND her cat died and her husband was sick in the music room when they had a magazine round to do a shoot on their new build, he's an architect don't you know, their life is a complete nightmare ....- anyway you really should count your blessings you know...." Failed Attempt at  Empathy" Overheard in the hairdressers [Woman under hairdryer talking to a woman reading a magazine] 


184 days... time has passed since my old life came to a dramatic end. On many levels the fact that 5th December 2013 was 6 months ago seems unbelievable

Half a year of my life has passed since the great triple strand unravel. 

I guess I'm a bit of success. 2/3's of what has been lost has been replaced - visceral needs have been met. 

It's a life... it's not the same, nothing will be the same, but there has been progress.there has been little choice other than to take action to fulfill these survival basics. 

Visceral needs require action to be met. 

In fact over the past 6 months there has been a lot of talk about action. The general consensus being that action brings results and not to sink into a quagmire of emotions as emotions are all in the head and not real and that emotions are all in the head impeding progress. 

Despite the fact that I have been forced to take action I would like to make a statement on this matter: 
Know this: Emotions are a physical not a mental thing. A single thought can cause a reaction, the brain releases stress hormones  - anxiety is not a figment of anyone's imagination. Physically this manifests in trembling, sweated or tension. Though if the imagination was used it would be as it a balloon had been inserted inside you that fills your every cavity till you cannot even recall what the space was ever originally used for.  Ignore this at your peril. 

In this world of 'think positive/ stay happy clappy - the worst way to deal with anxiety is denial. However the pressure to say I'm Fine and present the world with  a weekly progress sheet is huge. No one wants  to fail at being positive... so naturally we eliminate the negative when we answer the question "How you doing?". 

Fact is healing is never achieved this way. 

We, each and every one of us make mistakes, so if you think logically about such a universal experience - there should be no shame in a mistakes that you have learned from. 

Imagine the healing that could be achieved if people exchanged the stories of the wrong paths rather than the triumphant routes! I genuinely believe that we should share our stories with others and not be afraid as in this we shall not find ourselves alone.  Sometimes hearing someone else has been there  and it sucked for them too is all you have to hear to figure your experience is not a failing of yours personally. 

Loss makes us curled like a pebble, small and hard thinking no one can hurt a pebble. In defence mode you have no desire to hear tales  of the invincible. Fact. 

The cure sometimes is easier found in the companionable rather than the inspirational. It's good to know of other being there. 

My inbox has been stuffed with correspondence from similarly affected folk. You'd imagine this'd  would depress me, but in fact it's inspired me greatly. It has taken away the  burden of isolation that has been generated by events. So this is a heartfelt thanks to all those who have shared their stories with me this 6 months:

Those of you who have lost your homes. 
Those of you who lost your jobs. 
Those of you who have lost your loves. 
Even those few who like me lost the three things at once. 

Thank you for not playing top trumps with pain. Thank you for just validating it's okay to feel crappy about it for as long as it takes not any more.  
                              
This tendency to hear someone's pain and react by topping  it some crazy amount is probably the worst of the the things the situation has besought to bear. It's so disrespectful! Pain is pain and hearing how well you know that someone has it worse is no comfort to the affected.  

However I can say without a hesitation that listening to those who survived similar journeys, dead ends and cul de sac's enroute  - has really helped. 

I'm not alone with my inflated balloon. There are so many of us who have had to build only to watch all crumble and who are constantly, constantly scrabbling among the rumble to find something to start building with. 

To mix metaphors I guess by sharing our disasters we can earn that we are so much less than phoenix rising from ashes …...yet if you look closely you will see through the char and dust, the embers still glowing among the coal. We can build a fire again.

One day I'll be able to say without a word of a lie: 

I'm fine. 

One day.



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Sunday 25 May 2014

BLOG 289 - Positive energy.




"who knew... someone so young could talk so much sense... internal acceptance movement has some great soundbites to keep you on track" Jax


Came across Damiell Koepke via twitter... I would recommend that you don't get put off by the fact she is so young. She does in fact know what she is talking about and has traveled a road less travelled.

To surmise:

Then you just get on with the rest of your life... lighter... but the only weight you'll be carrying is your own.... and when you come to think about it... isn't that enough?

Onwards....





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BLOG 288 - Time Travel: 7th May Audio snapshot

"Music is always migrating from its point of origin to its destiny in someone's fleeting moment of experience"Alex Ross From the preface of The Rest Is Noise 


Music is a powerful thing isn't it? Ever been out, then someone's music drifts out from somewhere - a passing car, an open window, a shop doorway.... and your mood, your memories, your relationship to that moment...shifts. 

I've been playing music all day. I've a collection that straddles many genres and decades.  Music for every mood. 

I've been careful to avoid music in the early months of this massive life change. It's a bit of a cliché sitting around playing 'our tune' and sobbing into Kleenex. So not me. It's a sign that things have improved somewhat that the tunes are on while I beaver away at todays projects.   

 I think I've said in previous blogs that I have a strong reaction to lyrics. I think that's why I'm not genre bound. I hear a lyric that resonates and I'm in... doesn't matter if its country, rock, r & b, pop or any other genre. I hear a well constructed thought set to music and the song becomes part of my psyche           
                          
Goo Goo Dolls on at the moment and that chorus... 
oh dear... someone else has actually been to the same emotional spot.  I feel for  John Rzeznik... torturted with writers block then suddenly out it came, Iris - a tortured ode to love and loss.  If it wasn't daylight I'd sway with my lighter in the air. 

Then randomly The Contours comes on and I'm leaping about the living room executing the best twist, mash potato and any other dance big in 1962.  

Much the same routine for Pharrell... but with much more clapping. Gosh... it's a challenge to feel down when that song is on. Though for a while I found that 'Happy' was mocking me as it was released just as my entire world imploded. But in the end, the incessant upbeat nature of the beat and the simplicity of the lyrics got to me - 5 months on and I can feel what the songs conveys at last. 

With all this bouncing around I am grateful that I have moved to a place where I am not overlooked.  At my old house, my neighbours were often entertained by my disco for one in my living room.  It was not so much the night club dancing that raised an eyebrow, it was the full on lyrical routines (sometimes with props) that were the talk of the Lane. Where I am now, I am over looked by nothing more than a field and some trees... my petite allégros from sofa to sofa or grand jeté  with chiffons trailing behind me passes without comment. 

All those years as a dancer but really I am a frustrated choreographer. On comes George Michael singing  Turn a Different Corner (my late boyfriend liked the score... doubt if ever heard the lyrics in all the time he lived!) It reminds me of him but what do I do .. I step out a routine. Yup... I really did Fouette spins round and round the coffee table!! I recall in the old house he'd be coming down the stairs and look into the living room, shake his head and mutter "Always Dancing".  He'd be somewhat unsurprised to look down and see not much has changed.(!) 

Music has the ability to invoke in me more than just the desire to dance. Sometimes I hear a track and I'm no longer present. I transport to where ever the music takes me. It's very odd... I tend not to remember where I was the first time I heard a track... it just send my head places. 

Sometimes a track that was absently on while I'm decorating will always crop up in my head when every I look at my handy work, even though I must have heard it before.  The beautiful  Never by All the Luck in the World is a song that has suffered that fate.. I hear it.. I think kitchen cupboards. Nor quite what the Irish 3 piece had in mind when they put the track out  in 2012! But for the life of me I cannot get another (more appropriate) picture in mind! 

 For example, put on Adamski's Killer and it's  1990 musically  - but in my head I'm in Vegas in the early noughties, it's early morning and I'm having breakfast on the roof of a club I'd been in the night before. I must have heard Killer a million times since it's release in 1990... and yet play it and that where I go. A long ago closed club, on a strip that now looks completely different, a crowd of people whose names I don't recall (and doubt I could have at the time) - but I can smell almost taste the freshly squeezed juice and smell that super crispy bacon. I find myself squinting my eyes against the strong rays of the risen sun bouncing of the sequins on our sparkly club attire, I smile as I hear the laughter as we tell tall tales to amuse each other. Then the track ends and I'm in 2014 again. 

Then of course there is the power of music to put lyrics and score to your experience. Sometimes you are ambivalent to the artist and the music but suddenly that piece of music says exactly what you went through. Will Young's Who am I? reminds me of someone I had to let go because I was right about something.          
                                               
But the best power of music is when it reminds you of people. This seldom has much to do with the score or the lyrics, it literally becomes a soundtrack to thinking about that person. The accompanying visual you get when music reminds of a person is practically cinematic...  cue rotating panorama: 

A great  recent rack is Skizzy Mars's MomentsThis was introduced to me by my son.  I hear it and it does make my mind wander towards him. 

The not so recent James Morrison's You Give Me Something will always take me back to an amazing first date with my late boyfriend. 

On a lighter note the even more ancient Janet Kay's Silly Games just takes me to my little sister for some random reason. But then so does anything from Beyonce! 

Whereas Mary Mary's  Shackles has my big sister all over it. 

I can't hear Tony Tribe's rocksteady version of Red Red Wine without seeing my parents dancing at my Aunty Lydia's wedding. Equally I can 't hear Desmond Decker's Israelites without seeing my Dad impressively kicking up his heals at his birthday party some ten years ago! 

Each one of my friends seem to be filed in my head with a tune.  

Be it classical, Jazz, Rock or pop - there's tunes out there with a unique connection to me attached. 
I love that about music.. the ability to do obscure emotional things to you.  Nothing elicits such a strong reaction to times feelings, places or people taking you right to it without you ever having to much more than hear. 

It’s the perfect ingredient for time travel.




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