Dazzling Deia

Christmas in Mallorca has been beautiful, quiet and deliciously tasteful. The city is dressed in the most understated yet perfect white lights. Palm trees on the Paseo and Stars hung above the fountain in Plaza Reina and a sky full of twinkling stars in Placa Cort.

So Boxing day walking took us to Dazzling Deia. Robert Graves the English Poet is the famous resident from the twentieth century, Chopin lurked in the neighbouring Valldemossa in the previous century. And unfortunately the famous resident today is predictably the wealthy entrepreneur, so many who have second homes in Mallorca. It changes the landscape in a different way. No matter how beautiful and in keeping Richard Branson’s La Residencia is, I couldn’t help but feel it was so unnecessary in such an old, understated, out of the way kind of place, buried deep in the Tramuntana Mountains of Mallorca.

Our hike started as an amble around the village, we took a cappuccino on the terrace of an italian cafe and stared up at the gloriously blue boxing day hue. It wasn’t cold, Nick was in shorts and a tee, although I think I hadn’t chosen well as jeans are decidedly un breathable when it comes to walking.

After the village, we drove down to Cala Deia where we parked the car and walked out along the cliffs. Plenty of people and dogs around and a man in his boat with his top off. Even for Mallorca its December and the weather is markedly mild by anyone’s measure.

Plans were made, started, chopped and finally agreed, before they were changed, rearranged and then decided upon. Lunch at El Bungalow tomorrow, 1330.  But dazzlingly Deia had caught my eye and had made plans within to start this writing business again. To share the absolute beauty of this beauti – full Island that I am lucky enough to call my home.

El Bungalow is on the beach, out past Portixol in a place called Ciudad Jardin, We had Arroz Negro – a black Paella and it was perfect. So very spanish and en la Playa on December 27th.  The blue was following us and we spent the afternoon absorbing the UV and enjoying the outdoors.

So perfect Palma and magical Mallorca, certainly this Christmas has been really very special and the sun shine keeps rolling. I am sure it will break soon. Very soon.

Comfortably Numb?

There are two things going on right now. And one of them is Ben Howard’s lyrics spinning in my head “Has the world gone mad or is it me?” Well has it. No. It’s gone deaf and dumb. I have almost certainly gone mad.

If I had one wish it’s that I could have spent three years completing a degree, which would have enabled me to be at the front of human activism right now. I feel that is my failing to the hundreds of thousands of desperate, persecuted people that we are failing right now. Who’s banging on the door falls on deaf ears. We couldn’t possibly let them in. How would we cope? How do you mean? We would cope. Nations are strong. One statistic shows that during the twentieth century it is estimated that 167 – 175 million lives have been lost due to “politically motivated carnage”.

Carnage.

Was that in vain? For the 37 million servicemen and women who died in the World Wars, not to mention the civilian statistic, don’t you think it’s a little disrespectful just to roll over? To let the world tick by as we are comfortably numb. So numb in fact that we scroll over words like “behead” not even lifting an eyebrow. That within the last ten years we have numbed to a frightening degree.

I want to shake the world. Wake up. When did it become acceptable for leaders of the free world to speak of “swarms of migrants’ Is that what the Jews were in the Second World War? Is that what the Bosnian Muslims were? Swarms like a swarm of wasps. No, we have never in history likened a persecuted minority to an insect infesting us, attacking us. These so called migrants are refugees or has that been forgotten. Has it been forgotten that ISIS are ethnically cleansing the Middle East and North Africa. Does the average person sat behind their apple device or their PC or in fact their dinner table, or their burger, does that person have any idea what it is like to risk their life to enter a new country? To have nothing, to be so desperate that they risk everything in search of new freedom. Of freedom to be safe.

These insects. They have families, their are children who’s only wish is to go to school and play with their friends, who’s parents long to be able to go to work, to earn a better future for their families. They may look different. Is that what we are afraid of? A different religion, or a different colour, or a different sexuality? Because I thought we had moved past that. I thought we had established that race, gender, religion it doesn’t matter we are all human.

So moving on from the wasp analogy. And, sorry, going back to the carnage. And trying to believe that we in 2015 have moved on from judgments based on ethnicity. Oh yes back to carnage.

Eastern Europe is dealing with “illegals”. Illegals. Interesting term. Are they criminals then? I am confused.com. They are just illegal. How disgusting to refer to another human. One with nothing except desperation as “Illegal”. Everything about you is illegal. Anyway moving past that. “Hungary is building a wall to keep out illegals”. This reads like something out of a movie. It’s very frightening. But I’m comfortably numb. Remember. “No one invited you here. If you don’t like it Go Away” That was the Czech president. They are part of Europe. And just to back up the madness the words of Raivis Zeltits the secretary general of Latvia’s Alliance Party “ We don’t have experience with Multiculturism. In other EU countries Muslim integration has brought negative results”.

HELLO.

I’m sure you are still numb so it won’t bother you then that Poland has said it will only take in Christian refugees. Sorry did my chair legs just break? Did I fall off my seat? Was that huge hammer that just hit my head? Did I just break my arm? No, nothing. Numb.

So that’s clear then. Lets read on. There is a story of a man. And his name could be Jason or Paul and I am sure if it was maybe we could all relate better, maybe he wouldn’t be illegal, maybe we could actually identify that he is human. But his name is Ahmad so for Ahmad he will just have to be seen as a wasp. He risked his life to reach Greece in a rubber dingy. And I have been in many rubber dinghies and I also been in that stretch of water between Turkey and Kos, and actually I was on that stretch of water next to Tunisia only last week. And there is no way in hell that you would get me in a rubber dinghy. Not even if my life depended on it. Ahmad lost his 4-year-old niece on his treacherous journey. As a wasp surely that’s not even plausible as a human he will probably experience PTSD, grief, depression, to name a few emotions that these wasps may be able to feel.

I’m lost for words. Whatever I say and however I feel about our reaction to the atrocities facing hundreds of thousands of men, women and children, it’s falling on deaf ears. Even those journalists who do seem to write about it with some heart seem to miss the point its all condescending and patronizing, it’s about being “heart-burstingly proud of the BBC” for broadcasting from the jungle with the insects. Oh how fabulous Songs of Praise with religious wasps.

The fact is we turn our blind eye to men being pushed off rooftops because they are homosexual, to people being routinely beheaded in the streets, to children being trained to fight, to women and girls being raped and sold as sex slaves. The only thing illegal about the whole debate is the acts being carried out by what can only be described as terrorists and the only thing that should be made illegal is that we sit here and turn off and zone out.

Then I read that there are British people operating trafficking between the continent and England. Exploiting the vulnerable, or the wasps. The most depressing thing about all of this is that we don’t stand up. We don’t fight for basic human rights. We don’t take care of our brothers and sisters. We don’t help the sick, needy, those less fortunate than us. Instead we exploit them. We are fearful of them. We believe they are scroungers here to do nothing but live off our welfare state. Oh but I forget. They are illegal. And we have found them guilty way before they were even charged. Whilst they are still the victim. They are illegal and guilty and we do not want to know.

We should open the border. Help these people, let them flood in. They are humans, not wasps. They are refugees. In their own country they are killed and have no freedom. Aren’t we greater than all that. Haven’t the wars of the last 100 years taught us anything? Or are we just too afraid. Or like I believe we are just comfortably numb.

Unsure

I don’t know where I am going with this today. I have words and ideas but they are blocked. Not able to entwine. Not able to sequence and make sense.

I need to vent. Blow off steam. I am not even too sure that this needs to be read. But its written instead. Someone is getting under my skin, invading my space and generally getting all up in my face. This person exasperates me, she changes, she is rude, she thinks that she is still fighting to run with the dudes. She doesn’t understand how if you run with the boys, you let down the girls who work so hard to be noticed to not be ignored.

She looks down her nose at my job, you work in interior, nothing more than a glorified slave I suppose. She’s telling me this not the dudes, she is the one that is judgmental and rude. She has the problem. She is blunt and direct, she gets the wrong end of the stick, the more I write this the more I want to kick.   What happened to a world once so open and free, why did it become so lost and stuck in intensity. What happened to fun?

I tried my best to invite and include. I did all that I could to listen and understand. I came up with ideas to encourage and motivate. But I am met with a brick wall, one that deludes. Its deaf and its dumb, its sluggish and uninspired. It’s thinly veiled by its need to latch on.

Please leave me alone. Please stop criticizing me, please don’t patronize and offend me. Please let me get on. Please respect me and please stop seeing me as a threat. Jeez what a moan.

Square One

Back to basics.  Back to square one.  Or maybe its forward to Square one in my case.  I have taken it back.  Deep breaths square one is a strange place.  Its a bit empty, its a bit hollow.   It asks me not to judge and to let go. It told me to start my blog again.  To reignite the creativity that I had long since buried because I couldn’t find the connection to it.  It seems I had buried that too. Along with myself.  Mainly because I felt judged and compared. Something to prove.  Was this to someone else or to myself?

” Ego says once everything falls into place I’ll feel at peace. Spirit says find your peace and then everything will fall into place”

Sat here trying to visualise the drop kick that I would love to do to my ego which seems to keep me from trusting the universe.  In yoga on Thursday our teacher asked us to trust.  She said she never does the same routine – a bit of a crutch for a jivamukti student – and so we have to trust.  Trust I guess she won’t ask too much of us, if she does, to be able to trust ourselves enough not to fear what she is asking of us but to try.  So I did and it was lovely.  I smiled inwardly that i was trying even if I didn’t quite get it right.  I am prepared to give it a go.

Yoga is for me a reflection of how my life is going and to be honest as well as burying the creativity I had buried the yoga behind a mood of not being able to do it.  Never enough time or determination.  There is always enough time and determination is just a state of mind.  I’m currently very determined, also frustrated.  Things haven’t quite worked out the way I thought they would. I feel like not only am I in the cuboid box of square one I am also on the back foot.  Back foot is tight with hamstrings and sore from standing like that for so long.

I thought I might be the lottery winner.  But I wasn’t.  So its back to this, rebuilding everything I had already built but knocked down like a kid throwing a tantrum with a jenga tower.  Life’s tough and whilst I am in square one the future and the light looks a bit far away.  But I spoke to my mother this morning and she said “its alright Ro, square one, unlike the cliff you have been dangling on, is a pretty safe place to be and all you have to do is the best you can and trust that it will all work out in the end”.

So forwards, backwards, feet or squares, it looks like the bottom means the only way is up.  Fortunately.

Peace Out

Wow. Am exhausted just worked straight through 14 hours. No sitting down apart from 10 minute car ride. Awesome day. But I have the flu. Trying to hide it. Hide the sweats and the shakes keep the boss happy. It’s working so far. Now all I want to do is sleep. Sleep sometimes when it doesn’t come it’s hard to deal with, when it does you wonder why you thought it might never again.  Compelled to write this not because I need anyone to read it because it’s got to get out of me because it’s haunting me. 

I am pretty shocked, disappointed, disillusioned. Happened because I was bored and flicked through Facebook. Face ache. Face. Not a book. Not even a face. Anyway. So I saw some things today that I don’t understand.  Freedom of speech it’s a very important freedom and it doesn’t I don’t think mean we can just speak freely without thought for our fellow man. Well fundamently that’s what it does mean free to say exactly what I want. 

I guess it’s because of this Palestinian Isreali issue. The issue. It dominates middle eastern politics. 

Nothing detracts from the fact that two entities are engaged in mortal combat. Yes one is considerably disproportionate and will use expansive force to silence it’s enemy but let’s remember this is two. It’s not one.  Peace is what should be sought not side taking. There was a picture on Facebook a beautiful little boy with his peace fingers to the camera his head a mess of stitches and blood. A man commented that this was a look of defiance in the face of the zionists. Could we not alter that. Could that little soul be simply being defiant in the face of life hoping with every inch of his self that he may see a day where he lives in peace.  After all he has his peace fingers on display. Yet the grown ups around him want to make him into an image of war, an emblem of the violent and destructive ways they use to find peace. They don’t want peace they want war they want to prove one or other is better and will not be satisfied until they have got rid of the enemy. 

Our love our empathy it should lie with innocent civilians caught in any conflict, one where they have no control where their lives are governed by war and death. For our part we must concentrate on peace we must protest for peace for an end to war, not an advocation of one side or the other.  Not an excuse to promote yet more racial tension and hatred not an excuse to argue who is right and who is wrong.  Let’s be clear if I have a rocket and am aiming it at you and you have one too and we both fire them at each other there is no winner, there is no just. There is no right. 

Right and wrong are constructs of a hazy line at best at worse they are words used to describe something intangible, something uncomprehendable. Right and wrong are perspectives and depending from what perspective you look at things makes them right or wrong. So rather maybe  we must look at the greater good. Religious beliefs aside taking human life does not add to the greater good.  Religious beliefs.  This is a war dominated by religious beliefs.  Which is unbelievable. Two sides, two religions, two belief systems. Weren’t these dogmas created in order to aid humans to live a better life. Instead the arrogance, ignorance has created leaders who see themselves as better, more good, more deserving, more precious than others.  

All human life is worthy, all is precious.  Just as it is. Equal in the eyes of all. Bound to this earth and hopelessly bound to each other.  Peace is what we need to ask for and most importantly we need to ask for peace, peacefully, defiantly, unequivocally and unanimously.

Precious Moments

Full Moon in Scorpio I believe. I met a neighbour on my way home tonight. London has a buzzy summer feeling to it. How wonderful that it doesn’t get dark until nine pm. Anyway my french neighbour and I scared each other half to death by opening the front door to each other, and his reply or the first thing he said to me was “you naughty girl” in a slightly french, slightly sexy accent. Blame it on the moon I think. Bizarre that at a time of fright where a reaction may be an expletive or a yelp at being scared he blurted that out. Just fyi all my nearest and dearest I think I may have met the man who lives above me and has very loud, very outrageous sex. He also plays hopscotch on his bedroom floor in steel toe-capped boots and on occasions likes to throw marbles at the floor right above where my head is on my pillow, oh and hoover in the wee hours. Hash tag to the things we hear in old houses.

And then there was the doodler. I haven’t introduced him yet but I have been thinking about the doodles ever since the brief saturday evening encounter.

He was an odd looking guy who moved his legs to let me pass on the back seat of the bus. I was thinking of that ‘look up from your phone’ poem on fb. And so I did look up from my playlist and over my shoulder and saw the odd looking guy drawing something beautiful, crazy beautiful. And he noticed me watching and I took out my earphones and told him out cool, how intricate, what an amazing space your mind occupies. He said kind of with a stutter that they were merely doodles he did to pass the time. Time on the bus filled by design.

Look up from your phone. Reminders of the crazy and the beautiful in life. I want to remember preciousmoments because it’s the funny seconds I spend with strangers that seem to remind me the most of all the precious things there are around me. I guess that’s welcome to the present. I wasn’t thinking about where I had been or where I was going I was present with the crazies on the bus. I am not sure what it was he was drawing a kind of flamboyant design of flowers and garlands. A pattern and maybe he took them home and sellotaped them to his ceiling but whatever it was it felt like a reflection of a beautiful mind.

I went to Whiteleys Cinema tonight. Fabulous. Waiter service on your lazy boy chair. How to turn what used to be a £5 cinema experience into a £50 one. Anyway the food is great and its lovely and it was especially lovely as it was a girlie film with a girlfriend and Cameron Diaz was ever beautiful, older, maybe a little less crazy but she still rocks. It was a funny film just a shame about the ending if you believe in those endings. Taken with a pinch of salt the ending never matters. As all endings are is beginnings. As I am learning. As I still fight with.

I am really tired I need to sleep not sure how it gets so late so quickly. I have a 5am start tomorrow.

PS I was more than lucky today, I can’t explain the story, it won’t do me any favours, but I was more than lucky and someone watched me today, had my back, and made me remember just how important all this presence is. So thank you, I know who you are xxx

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Dear Dad,

It’s 3 am. I just realised. I forgot. Again. But I need to write this down for you. So you know it’s not you I forgot but it’s just I have an aversion to late April. I always do forget that is. But I was with them, we were nearly altogether and no one mentioned it. Maybe they have the same forgetfulness.

So I woke up tonight with a lump in my throat and I couldn’t figure out why. I laughed at May 4th and Stars Wars day and then it crashed down around my ankles. I still know your mobile number and sometimes I think to phone it, but I know you are not there anymore.

I was thinking about what I would tell you. Twelve years apart. Lots has changed, lots has remained the same. I still miss you, there is still a void, a dad shaped imprint that will never feel anything less than empty. I remember I have your hands. Giant man hands as I call them. Funny, I also remember a few of your jokes which stay the same and still make me cry with laughter. I guess you would describe my sense of humour just like yours.

The oldest sister seems to be the oldest but not so much the wisest. I am not so sure I should explain but the boys are pretty settled in a straight line and mine continues to duck and dive and twist and turn. There are funny things that have happened in twelve years and things you will never get to see. I will be an auntie in August which is exciting not least as Matty and I have plans to cause disruption, chaos and general bedlam. Just because he is the youngest.

The world is quite different now. I even noticed that when I came back from the sea. It’s changed its so fast with so many sharp edges. You know how we find it hard sometimes for the words, well that’s quite important these days. The words. Expression, verbalisation. Remember the days of laughing because of course we were “only joking!” Well now they invented a smiley face for text messages for just that purpose. Phew!!!! It’s quiet sometimes without you around. Before everyday felt different knowing you would never be back from that day. That you will always be fifty. Which is pretty cool. I am nearly 31 now. Just in case you forgot.

Now it’s different. I am really not sure how or why it’s different and I am not sure anyone could ever explain. Twelve years has helped to heal the pain. Eight years it was still so raw. But April 30th still makes me feel sick. And I still forget it. Like I am not allowed to remember it. I hope you read my blog, I hope you check out the chaos that follows me around, I hope you share in all the moments that remind of us how beautiful the world is. I know you shake your finger when the three of us are unruly, and up to usual tricks. I know you smile when we catch each other’s fall, I guess I think I know you are proud of us – maybe that’s a work in progress. Most importantly of all though is I trust you will forgive my forgetfulness.

Ro xx

Magic

London. Bank holiday. seems the crazies have come out to play. Though I’m munching my way through a whole piece of brie and swatting mosquitoes at the same time. Seems there’s something a bit left field going on right here. I saw a real life minion yesterday like the ones from despicable me but it was a person. My flatmate just asked me how crazy do you reckon you would have to be to get any attention. I mean really let the weird fly. We reckoned you would have to be quite crazy.

Its kind of peaceful here today. My best friend in the entire world has left me to go home – sad on – and I won’t be seeing her for a while – tears on – and then I just remember that she is in my life to make me happy not sad. That’s happened a lot lately I flipped the situation. What I used to get sad about, because I was struggling with letting go, is the very thing that starts the next adventure. Not wanting the moment to end. But the most beautiful thing is to let it end, love every single second, make the ending amazing and then give it back to the universe. So anyway my flatmate and I are re-cover-ring or trying too. I thought I might go out again with my other flatmate. But pasta and chick flick are calling me. And bed. 

London and the sunshine embraced yesterday. I spoke to so many weird and wonderful people Bryony and I danced with strangers on the station platform. Magic. There is magic in sunshine. Also a dude with a huge roll of sellotape outside my bedroom window. I wish he would quit with the sellotape noise. Distracting me. Anyway my love of writing faded with the start of my new job. Which I started and love. BTW. I also moved in and now live with two amazing girlies and we have such fun. So life has changed kind of dramatically and it asks me to let go all the time. Let go the past, let go of the bits you cling to for stability. Basically just sit back, enjoy the ride and let it go. Its amazingly powerful the universe. The people it sends you, the things it provides. Its constantly teaching and the lesson is there it really is so blindingly obvious.

So I will let my best friend go. Its pretty hard. We are the greatest of friends and we reconnected after so many years apart. She makes me laugh from the bottom of my feet, she builds me up, she looks after me and she is a treasure. I know I will go see her in America I know the universe will give her back to me. But sometimes the universe seems to give me such incredible people only to leave a massive hole when they go. We had brunch today in 212 on Westbourne Grove and it was outstanding. Amaze balls. Magic. I guess that was the ending, crying with laughter, finding the stupidest things hilarious, indulging in three breakfasts. Remembering the adventures of these past weekends…and now I know I have to let them go.

PS the dude is still sellotaping. 

Surprise!

The surprise is. Umm. Interesting fact number one. The surprise never is quite what you imagine it to be. Interesting fact number two is that the surprise never really is a surprise. My thoughts are completely jumbled today. Its like I woke up with a head shaped filing cabinet that was tipped over and all the papers have merged.

 

Writing = clarity. Perhaps, or just a way that I can work out the jumbled crazy meshed up thoughts. I just read something on tinybuddha.com about transition. About becoming comfortable with transitions it read, perhaps a large transition such as a divorce or career change. This piece of writing seem to infer that one would only have one of those things at once.  Try, divorce, career change, lifestyle change, everything change. And then sit with it. Sit with the worst and best of yourself for a while – months in my case. Sit with that person and try not to judge or run with fear. Decisions made based on fear are not good decisions.  I got scared made some difficult decisions that have taken me down a scary, frightening path.

 

So back to the surprise. The surprise is it’s not that scary after all. SCAR REE – kind of onomatopaeic, so is that. Sounds like you say it. A bit like when you say one word a hundred time and it loses its meaning. Or is it only me that does that. The God damn surprise. The surprise is Ro you are still sat here with yourself. You have still got to come to terms with that. Stop blocking it, let it shine through. Let it all go. No baggage, no history, remember no definitions. 

 

I had an interview this morning which was good, perhaps a little odd. It was called an       ‘Assessment Day’. I thought that would involve role play. Hmm I love role play but it also made me a little nervous. It wasn’t an assessment day it was a group and then individual interview. It was over as quickly as it started and there was nothing scary about it. Now theres a surprise. what if they had just called it an interview. Interesting that’s kind of dull, but maybe its the same thing. I don’t know, definition and words always keep me guessing. Surprised if you will. 

 

Is anything really a surprise. Truly. If it was your birthday on a scale of 1-100% you might have thought “there is a 1% chance I will have a surprise birthday party”, odds are low, but it is possible. If the only certainty is uncertainty and death then why are we so accustomed to saying “what a surprise that was….” To me the only thing that surprises me is me. I reckon the only way to work with that is to accept that right now I am in the middle of a huge dodgeball game, that curved balls are the only ones coming at me, that the only thing I can do is take each moment at a time, that trying to think ahead and plan the next move is not where I am right now. Play ball, but with a hard hat on so that the next ball to hit me on the head doesn’t hurt when it surprises me. 

Fall From Grace

To fall from grace refers to a loss of stature, respect or prestige. Grace means a few things, elegance, good will, effortless. To be graceful is to be respectful, to show manners. I think it means to keep my cool. To remember grace. Let go with grace. I posted a message on Facebook today that states that only three things matter one of which is how gracefully we let go of things not meant for us.

Was just listening to passenger…..in my car surrounded by 1000 Easter eggs… Odd. I have been putting the miles in recently. Seeing friends, completing my massage hours, I am nearly there on my hours which is pretty good seeing as I am only halfway though the course.

So been doing some travelling mostly forwards I did a great big runaway last week which was a bit scary. I have the fourth interview for all those friends who had given up hope that I would ever get this damn job. Funny, I am not so sure anymore but there is no harm in the fourth interview. It’s tomorrow evening. (just received the email that now its Friday). Shall I let you know or are you about as sick of it as I am?! I also have another job interview tomorrow morning. Wednesday is interview day. Better get a good night sleep. Last night I drove 100 miles, worth it the friend on the end filled me with delicious food, inspirational words and happiness that is still in my toes today.

I guess I got kicked out. Which makes me laugh a little bit. Not used to being thrown out, can take the rejection, the thrown out keeps me smiling. Let go, just as I was struggling with that concept I seem to have met it square on. (ironically I was let go – of) Gracefully letting go. I can only hope I do that one day. Allowing something to pass over you, acknowledging it wasn’t meant for you, me, that it was just a space in time. A shared illusion. Tough but smiling helps.

Not even a shared goldfish, that’s good. Shared memories. Some of the best memories, I will hold onto them.
Inspiring me to go again next winter (if I don’t get the job) This time for a few months become absorbed dig below the surface we only touched on. I can’t wait my India dreams have resurfaced.

Running away never solved anything and in only a way I can achieve did I run away. I am coming back round. I freaked out was hiding beneath the duvet all weekend although I went horse riding which was fantastic in that beautiful weather. Music is getting louder. Demands I stand up and face it. Where would I be without those people in my life who have spent the last 18 months picking up the pieces. You know what chaps we are so close the puzzle is nearly finished, it’s so close, it’s just I, un-gracefully? had a tantrum and threw it up in the air. It’s all.

Friends, sunshine, horses, a toast to letting go. Paloma Faith singing Fall To Grace. Did I? Fall? I fell one way feet first, but as she says the falling never hurts, the landing does.