Epiphany project update

Today I went to look at a property classified for sale. At the moment I have 54 euros in my pocket.

Finding this dream place felt quite god-led. I'd been looking for another place to rent for the equine-assisted therapy project. But instead found this.

So I went in with a tinge of worry whether I'm on the right path with this. I'm being reminded to be pragmatic. And to be realistic. Its a fine line between being confident in stepping towards your dream and being realistic. And its a balance I'm still trying to perfect.

We had a look around the old dutch farmhouse. And around the wonderful stables, manege and land. And I then explained to the estate agent that I was really more interested in the land than the house.  His answer was wonderfully reasoned and calm. That he would check with the owner about the possibilities and arrange a meeting between us.

I entered the appointment with bittersweet mix of hope and doubt.  And I came out feeling like I'd had my first tranzam.

Jacha drove me home afterwards.. Well we'll just have to see what the meeting brings.. Let her see all your vision books.. Everything!  And for the rest.. We pray.

I am looking for ways to finance the following

Two highland ponies

Possible rent to buy contract of stalls, manege and fields.

Renovation of outhouse building to provide a function room in which therapy can be reflected on. Where Tellington Touch programs can be taught, where people with burnout can take time out to recuperate.

And my own further education in Tellington touch, Eagala advanced accreditation, and the Horse boy technique(for autistic children)

I am looking for Angel investment. Or simply people who are inspired to help me and the horses help others.

I Am because We Are.  Love.

If you would like to invest in this project, or find out more details of what I'm doing, please feel free to email me at nicola.r.mahon9@gmail.com

Thank you

Faith is

So on kings day in the Netherlands. I took some time out to cycle in the countryside. I'd only had a few hours sleep, but I really wanted to use the sunny afternoon to pursue a possibility of renting somewhere for the project.

I have seen from the train, a horse barn with a rental sign. But I'm never quick enough to catch the number. So I cycled through the next village in the direction that I thought it might be.

I could not find it. And to make things worse.. My picnic of cola and fresh figs was not such a clever idea with no toilet for miles.

But on the quirky cycle home. I found somewhere amazing. Shining with possibilities. An arena and stables for the equine assisted therapeutic project
But also extra buildings for a creative project. Its always been the vision to connect the two.

So I took note. The amount of money asked is on an unrealistic level. I do not have a large wage. Shit, I can't afford health insurance... But I asked a lady at the church.. Is even cheeky to pray for this facility. No said she.. There are always possibilities.. If its recognised to be in gods hands..

So today. I phoned for an appointment (I am going to view it with the lady who is my mentor) the man on the phone relayed the price with hesitation.. My head was exclaiming flying fecks.. But sounding in complete control (and hopefully a mirror of complete faith)..

Oh yes. That will be fine.

Tyrese Gibson Speaking on Faith in the Invisible: http://youtu.be/OyPYDW9DGpI

Mongoose - Petrify

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yqv1iNzFuIo&feature=youtube_gdata_player

So this is the guy I saw perform on Saturday. Its been a lot time since I put attention to the music scene. Up until a few weeks ago, it was complete compulsion to embed myself in the project. And I do think it had to be done that way to get things done.

The week before, I went to church. Mostly to give praise for help in getting the first course under my belt. When you know that your purpose is being encouraged at different levels, it makes the feel of absolute stress and pressure somewhat do-able. I'm sure I should enjoy life, that's the mission, but sometimes, the process of working towards the purpose can bring up feelings and situations that aren't so pleasant. Anyway, my first certificate for Ttouch training is in the bag. And the whole path to get it was full of blessings and encouragement.

During the week I stayed at a youth hostel in bath. A lot more homely feeling than amsterdam. I shared a room one evening with a model who had worked with Kate Moss. And she thought I was 22! Having worked with Kate Moss.. well that's credentials for extremely good judgement.   I told the news to a friend,

So let me get this straight.. you're 34 next week, but going by ..22?

Yes.

So in church, I've been noticing a pattern. There is sort of split between those who want to live. And those who are fearful of what's outwith the walls of their church community.  Last week when I had been to church, there had be a guy involved in outreach work. His questions were,

Where have you seen god at work?

In who have you seen god at work?

A guy came in late and sat at our table. He's been a guest speaker too, but with a different tangent. The following question, was how can we bring our purpose to show gods love in the kingdom?

Latecomer could not grasp the concept. His view was that god only works with christians and the church. My view still is, that say all present biblical knowledge was erased from social memory, if god is the greatest unconditional love, surely he would still want to impact our lives. And it is my belief he/she does this regardless of whether you are christian or not.

When I was living in the christian shelter, there was a fear of the volunteers going to nightclubs, because of the bad influence that might be around.

On Saturday night, I was in a nightclub watching Mongoose and the beatbox perform. Between songs, as the tempo changed, he took time to ask the crowd what their definition of love is. What does love mean to you? Wat is liefde? Someone shouted.. God is Love.

Jaa sowieso! Put your fist in the air if you think that God is Love!

The crowd raised their hands.

Epiphany march 2014

Its four days away. And today was the first day that I really started to smile and be thankful for what lies in the next week.  Next week I travel to Bath, England to follow my first Ttouch course for horses.

Until today I knew I would be flying in the direction, but from last weeks organising and bookings, I didn't really know exactly how I would be geting there. When I made my budget calculations, the euro was nearly equal to the pound. Now inflation is favouring the pound, more than it is favouring me.

I've been in a sea of worrying, and feeling like this journey would be again a struggle, and less I say it martyring for my own cause.  Well.. I have never seen so many angel feathers appear in my life, signs to have faith that everything will be ok, and that I am not the only one on my team, despite a habit for feeling I'm the only one. I have a great team falling around me.

I used to doubt myself if I saw a white feather.  That it might be just dust or downey feathers. When I was 18, a friend and I were scoffing at a program that talked about angels leaving white feathers when they wanted to show love. And then between us floated a white feather. Needless to say that day, something supernatural left us lost for words.

This weekend I went to see a friend perform spoken word, and as I began to question whether splashing out on a second bottle of sprite was too much, a white feather appeared. And this time I was given no room for doubt. It formulated, appeared, right in front of my eyes. Truth. Enjoy life, enjoy blessings, and the rest will come. Rest in that. Stay active, but remove the worry.

Today, a friend offered me a loan, and a new friend offered me some extra work. I've taken leaps of blind faith, but continuous faith on a meaningful path is just a bit overwhelming at times, and I've had to fight myself to not clam up into my own corner again.

People have asked if I'm excited. Told me to be excited. But if I subtract the ifs and the hows. Then there's a yearning to be where I should be. And the knowledge of a feeling of content. That content is calm joy, in one moment when a horses energy calms, and you see in his eyes a relief, that he understands the I understand that he understands. After that comes "let's talk" and after that comes "let's dance". But its that first moment of content. In understanding that I'm looking forward to. Love.

Tracy chapman - fast car

Tracy Chapman seemed to always be playing in the begining. In hindsight, it always seemed the most innocent and truthful love. The kind where both of you forget about everything else. But I wonder now actually how much more to the truth the tracy chapman album was hinting at.

Yesterday evening, I went to watch 12 years a slave. And commented about it on facebook. A friend suggested that I watch Roots. That really got under her skin. I ûnderstand what she was getting at. But that's not my aim. My aim, or hope is to.. was to.. hope that stronger voices can talk about it, and bring it to light. Bring it to justice. On the one hand its recognition and honoring those who suffered at the hands of the slave trade.

I'm talking about the topic as an abstract thought, when the aim was to be personal. I suppose it depends on life as to how you deal with it. My grandad never allowed tomato ketchup bottles on the table because it reminded him of blood.

When tracy chapman was singing in the background, and I was lying in lovers arms. Stories finally unfolded in trust. And fingers that thought they were tracing over birthmarks, realised truth in bulletmarks.

When I watch a movie with friends. I can't watch torture scenes. It takes me back to a time when a lovers soul was raped. And its a physical feeling, with an emotional hangover.

In the past though, it was much worse. The only way I can describe it is ripping velcro, right down my chest. And its paralysing. I wrote a piece once to process it, and had to go to bed for the wole afternoon. Which doesn't please my practical side, how can you concentrate on being productive when you have to nurse to your own mental health?

From that summer I decided  not to concentrate on it, to let it lie. But you can't control life, or indeed movie scripts. So from time to time it arises again. And at those times when I have to pull out the strength card, I appreciate those who stand for justice even more.

Inspiration - Alicia's story

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LxuqbZ0Q_9c&feature=youtube_gdata_player

way back home

its nearly time for wrapping things up for this christmas in scotland, im coming to terms with having no sleep and all ideas.

projectwise it keeps on shaping. i went to the tackshop i used to work in, and bought the T touch textbook for dressage. the rest of my christmas money is going towards the deposit for my Ttouch course in March.  I decided, that im not just doing it so that humans may have opportunity to gain inner peace, but also that a different perspective towards horses may develop. and i am coming to believe that this might be through using the Ttouch technique (founded by Linda Tellington Jones, you can find more information on the TtouchUK website.) The training involves six days, and six evenings camping. which im sure will bring its own story in 2014.

Theres a dutch song, i've posted below in earlier blogs .Spijt. it translates to Sorrow. Sorry. and as time in 2013 draws in, its time to draw some lines. to prepare for the new year coming. Theres been some frienships this year that really gave feeling of disappointment. To be a vehicle for passing out love, and love without expectation, its bloody difficult, and near impossible. and the line draw is that i dont have to hold that weight of disappointment, and the sooner i can draw the line and let it go, the better i will feel. giving care towards others is fine, but thats not to say that they will even recognise it, or respect it, or even carry it forward. and thats ok, now thats getting to be ok. i'm not sorry that i showed care and consideration, and i'm not sorry i met those people on my path, and im now especially not sorry i've drawn a line and walking away from it.  someone once said that if you dont like the people that you are attracting into your life, then its time to change something in yourself. and thats what i've been recognising this year.  In caring for others this year, i've been looking away too much in what needs encouraging and feeding in my own life. and not just the project.

I met a friend in the last few days, her mother had died in the last few months. and her husband had one immense conclusion from it. if you should die tomorrow, the important thing is that you have lived life to the best standards that you can, and those standards can only be set by you. not ever by anyone elses expectations.

The next morning, i met another friend, who was absolutely queen of her own. queen of her own life. she has the most beautiful child that i have ever met (i work with many beautiful children, but this truly is an extra ordinarily beautiful soul). Queen of her own, well she was happy where she was, and in control of where she was. she chose to have a child, and at a time when she had travelled where she wanted to, had created a career that she had wanted, and now mastered it in being able to be strong in her boundaries in parenting her child. I admired seeing this all within a coffee catchup.  if life graces me with two or three more years (one can never be sure). this is a situation that i would like to be in. Queen of my own.

Gery Mendes - Way back home

Project Epiphany - inspiration- trailer of the docufilm i shall be holding previews of in the Netherlands and Scotland

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cYkT_GndKtE&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Epiphany

So these last few months have come with some learnings. I was always told by gran that one good turn deserves another, and to treat others how I would want to be treated myself. And this summer I began really to doubt that. And as with most things when I short circuit, the universe takes it back a key, and shows me kindess in humanity on a micro level. Which was reaffirming to some degrees.
You have to understand that my location moved from the countryside outside of Breda, to Amsterdam, and that's actually a huge change in social climate.  An Ex if mine was from Rotterdam, he summed up some differences quite well. In Breda, if you fall in the street, ten people will run to pick you up, in Rotterdam they will laugh at you (or with you), in Amsterdam, people will step over you and curse you for making them late for an appointment.
So in the summer, because the chemistry of amsterdam does not suit me, I made a decision to draw a line from it.  And now with some distance I can begin to cautiously analyse why the chemistry feels so uncomfortable, this is still an ongoing thought process, and I'm not yet ready to put it to blog yet.
One other decision was made for sure though, I can use my energy and let sensitivity allow me to encourage connections, but those connections don't bring me any support in return towards my own future hopes. But this realisation did, its time to get selfish, its time to take that attention for others, and focus it solely on my own project.
I love music, a few of my peers, David included, are at the top of their game in their sphere. They are Kings of their own. So why am I not Queen of my own?  Music is a form of love, and its path has been walked on and worshipped for thousands of years.  Whilst music is a rock for me, its not my sole purpose. My soul purpose.
My soul pupose has taken a little longer for me to feel confident in pursuing. Mainly because its a path which has taken time to fall into mainsteam, and its still not quite there. But it will be.
My path will be to facilitate the use of horses in order to allow people to find the quiet space inside of themselves again.  This will affect different social groups, and with help of nature,encourage people to find balance again.  Depending on the need of a person, the following shall be used.
The EAGALA model.
The TTouch technique from Linda Tellington-Jones
The Horse Boy method developed by Rupert and Rowan Isaacson.
I  will insert a  link later in the day in which Rupert describes more about the Horse Boy technique.

They say when life gives you lemons; make lemonade. Well I say, why not make margharitas!
                 - Rupert Isaacson

..Spinnin

" this is for the black on my fist,
this is for the tat on my wrist,
this is for the S in my lisp
this is for my beating heart
on the chest,on the left,
yes, life ain't for the swift,
but for those who can endure
so I hold it with two hands
and more,
and I answer every time it is calling.
and you tell it in my aura,
you can tell I'm a soldier,
you can see the strength in my eyes,
and I hope you can see the strength in my vibe
cause sometimes I get tired
cause its hard out here.

Spinnin by Speech Debelle

its really a strong belief with me that God turned to Jesus and Mohamed one day and said to the affect, "Guys, you did good, honestly you did good, but theres all these people that are just not paying attention, and I'm going to have to work on them in a different way, or different ways.." this is not a precise dialogue, i wasn't there at the time. but its my heavy handed supposition. in other words, it goes like so... if all the religious knowledge evaporated from being, and all the religious books were burnt. if there is a living, affective god/life/love/whatever you want to call it, surely he wouldn't lie redundant with all ties cut, he would surely want to make at least an attempt to connect with his creation. its just a suggestion. and its just a suggestion that there is new movement of people, affecting others through their spoken word. through their art. through their music. if god is love, and love exists in different mediums, then god exists through different mediums, not just one book.

i already introduced you to one creative friends through spoken word.  the last thing i talked to him about was whether pain could be eliminated through only belief. he said yes it was possible to reason out pain. he said that i could reason it by saying "pain..i have learnt my lesson". but i hadn't learnt any lesson yet, really i just wanted to return to normal life. i wanted to be able to go to work, i wanted t be able to cycle home in the summer evenings. that particular week had been planned for new work, and new projects to begin, and instead i could only sit, rest and dwell in a haze of pain killers.

when my knee was broken in Breda., Marije kicked my ass for venturing to the shops, in town, from the country, via a few snow drifts, with crutches. And this time wasn't as bad. This time, because it was a good idea, and a nice idea of seeing a talented group of people perform at their best. The theatre was performed at the Oerol festival, on the island of Terschelling. Its a really cool festival where theatre is inspired by it's location.

As I left the house, David's old mix came on. I still find it one of his best mixes, some of the tunes may have aged, but bittersweet feelings through it, make it heartfelt and true in vibe. it was made in memory of his mama. and it gives me strength.

When I stepped off the boat, I wasn't really feeling the inspiration. Wind and rain are my nemesis, which is why I ran away from Scotland. A friend had cancelled last minute, and normally I'd enjoy the flying solo. but not with shit weather. when the bus arrived, I asked him to drop me off in the town where I could collect the tickets. he shouted the stop. but it turned to be a stop too early. I asked the man in a shop for directions
"oh back to the main road and its ten minutes by bike.."
".. and with crutches?" asks I.

It took rather longer than five minutes, and because I'm not good at gauging my own pain sometimes, there is a moment where it all of a sudden hits. normally with a good grain of stupid stubbornness. and to make sure that I knew my way. foolproof. I asked the man at the ticket office where I should go, and what I could do with my friends extra ticket.

"well perhaps you can go up those stairs and make a suggestion to the deejay.."he proposes.
"..I have crutches." says I.
"...and for the location... its easy, you go to location 22... its ten minutes by bike.."
"..and with crutches?" asks I.

I actually made good time. and as I walked through the country roads, birds would chorus, "there will be blessing, there will be blessing.." and I blank it out. because I need to concentrate on where I'm going. and I haven't to trust that instinct, when I'm in softer mind, then I could feel thought or intention from horses mainly, but they are not reliable, and include ego, and their own lessons to learn. and so despite symbolism from birds before, which has saved me from difficult situations, I am still full of doubt. heavy doubt.

and it grew to be angry doubt. I stood in line at the location, and double checked with the family in front as to whether it was the right location. and it wasn't. the correct location was 45 minutes back into the town. it sunk like lead balloon. I stood for a minute and worked out my choices. I could either go back to the festival grounds, find the boy, and beat him up with my crutches. a two crutch wallop would certainly ease frustration. the second choice was to onwards, though when you're in the middle of nowhere, that is the only choice really.

by this point I was getting tired and sore, and frustrated. and angry with god. if everything happens for a reason, I am failing to see any sensible reason at the moment goddygod. this is not funny anymore.

I got to the location 15 minutes before the end of the play. just tired, and just exasperated at the whole fucking situation. and then there were two ladies watching from the gate. one, who reminded me of David's mum, took one look and asked me to tell her what was wrong, and then every tear of tiredness and frustration came.

as the crowd stood in ovation, the manager came to us, and invited us to dance with crowd. the lady talked the manager, and the manager gave me a stool. and above a seagull soared "you will be blessed, dry your eyes". The manager was lovely, and invited for dinner and to watch the following performance.

The weather worked with the performance. it was based on rites of passage, and change in bonds of friendship to the point of separation. The weather fluxed between scenes, from mild wind, to sea squall. and at the point of climax, Paulien stepped forward and looked to the sky before dropping to the ground and screaming. and in that first moment, as she looked up to sky, the sun broke through almost to highlight beauty and struggle. It was definitely the first time that day I had admired the weather.

Reaching mainland again, I waited on the bus back to Amsterdam. and just before the bus departed, the lady who stood next to the lady who had listened sat beside me on the bus. and pointed out that her friend was outside, through smiles and thumbs up gestures I was able to signal that a lovely evening had been had due to her encouragement. the stitch and weave of connection had brought priceless blessing.

Akwasi Ansah's Daar Ergens project

the last couple of weeks in this month came with huge blessings, and submersion into the shadows. friends asked me to look after their apartment whilst they were on honeymoon. moving from a small room to small apartment was bliss, time to be me, time to process me.

I am high sensitive, and I am softened and strengthened by music, and I am supported by nature, and I am open to feeling things in great measures. someones progression in life can give so much rejoice, yet on the other hand, listening to bitterness, fear, division can send me into a whirlpool into which only which surprise encounters can anchor me. each time regaining balance is an experiment.

I know triggers that I should avoid. but sometimes, if I issue needs to be talked about. there appeared a link on facebook via the guardian. on one hand I knew I should avoid because of my own mental health repercussions, on the other hand it was more important for it to be shared and talked about. The link below is challenging to watch, but in honour of those who suffer torture, or post traumatic stress disorder, or secondary post traumatic stress disorder, I thought it was important to watch it all. for they don't have a choice as to long they endure it, even after the events.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

 

Exposure to a stressful event or situation (either short or long lasting) of exceptionally threatening or catastrophic nature, which is likely to cause pervasive distress in almost anyone.

Persistent remembering or "reliving" the stressor by intrusive flash backs, vivid memories, recurring dreams, or by experiencing distress when exposed to circumstances resembling or associated with the stressor.

Actual or preferred avoidance of circumstances resembling or associated with the stressor (not present before exposure to the stressor).

Either (1) or (2):

1. Inability to recall, either partially or completely, some important aspects of the period of exposure to the stressor
2. Persistent symptoms of increased psychological sensitivity and arousal (not present before exposure to the stressor) shown by any two of the following:

• difficulty in falling or staying asleep;
• irritability or outbursts of anger;
• difficulty in concentrating;
• hyper-vigilance;
• exaggerated startle response

This link features Def mos undergoing force feeding as subjected to those prisoners who are now in the midst of trying to practise Ramadan whilst imprisoned on Guantanamo bay.

I cannot fathom why this is being allowed to happen in a land who boasts democracy, honour and justice.

that's my rationale view, my emotional view overloads and overwhelms. it bases foundation nine years ago, in protective love to a would have been husband, to a would have been papa to the unborn child who whispered three months in..mummy it's just not the right time.  To delve more into this, is not my meaning, his story and our story for the main part rests in peace, and wont be shared on this blog. my experience of secondary post traumatic stress disorder has been the following.

uncontrollable distress, heavy grief, helpless feelings of isolation
eagerness to walk on eggshells. to make situations as easy as possible for him.
ambivalence to the rest of the world
sleep patterns disturbed, putting off bedtime because you know you cant sleep without crying for the whole situation.
chest pains and headaches.
and you become more cautious as to what movies you watch, and which may include triggers.
and you escape into music.


, secondary post traumatic stress disorder is not officially recognised but there are websites to counsel I believe such as. but I am not a veterinary wife, and I have pushed on in my own way. life has given opportunities for me to heal, but also leaves heavy and oppressive reminders from time to time. it is not easy to watch the link bu I hope that you gain insight in measuring your own feelings and reaction to such violation..

This trigger in a week where a lot of things felt like they were falling apart. I've mentioned the support of brothers before, and when that support and friendship changes and backfires without reasonable discussion its an exasperating and sad feeling. I understand reasons why things have to be and are to be, but that does not mean that it heavy feeling followed by resignation, and  eventually strange sense of peace that god/life/love has its reasoning's. but these take time to settle, and in losing an anchor of friendship, its distressing and disorientating.

High sensitive people are equipped with different skills. In Breda, Zussie could tell when a horse was not well or sick far before he showed any symptoms. a habit of mine seems to be helping people make to make connections. and these connections go towards creating greater things. it is a nice feeling to see creative people connect, but part of my learning in this is to "let go",  I am simply there to introduce, and let them do their thing. but sometimes I can short circuit, and it happened in the week where secondary ptsd kicked in, and I lost a good friend.
My boss chatted with me that I do have talent, but aswell as enjoying the sunshine, sometimes we have to fall in the shadows. if its a hot day of sunshine, shadows can bring relief, but my shadows go to excess, almost to disconnect again, and I to re-evaluate how I open I want to be? are the highs worth the very lows? how will I handle it the next time someone I connect disappoints or hurts me? should I expect that good inspiring moments are balanced with despair, and lets describe it as hard drive crash. can I not reboot and prevent falling deep in shadows? or should I resign that for months of uninterrupted coolness, I can expect a week or two in order to reboot.  in practical assessment of time, we are looking three days to spiral, one evening to crash, and two to three days of hangover and adjustment. that's almost a working week.

and so Saturday I went to the Kwaku festival in south Amsterdam. I sat beside the stage,a little boy talked to me about numbers. when he found out that numbers are not my strong point. he gave me valuable advice.

"if you buy something for 4 euros, and you give the man 5 euros, you get 1 euro back"

"I think I will need you as an accountant for my shopping" says I.

when life get so complicated?  I stood in the audience, hoping that music would be the complete anchor. it turned out not to be. and it brought me disappointment, not in the music, but that my whirlpool of disconnected feeling was getting deeper.

and as I stood feeling completely overwhelmed in shadows,  and for beautiful space in time, Sarah-Jane sang from the stage. giving me new sensation and contrast. It seemed to be this time standing in the shadows allowed me to be lot more sensitive to other peoples creativity and sunshine. her first song of energy which nearly blew me away. third song, was like that moment of sunshine through the dark clouds. which gave hope. music is love. it supports, it carries, and in encourages. and it reminds me to hold on. this was one of the songs which brought emotion to my eyes. complete love. just as Paulien in the theatre had caught sight of sunlight before her crash. music gave me a shot of sunlight through the clouds. 

You can follow the link here to Fade Away by Sarah-Jane and the Xperience at www.sarahjanemusiq.com, i hope that you can take time to look now at her page. if you scroll down, the first song that appears is Fade Away, press play, put the volume up, close your eyes and listen. I put music through the blogs not only out of interest, but also to help portray the feeling and tone of what i am going through. so for this tact, i would really appreciate it if you follow through on this part of the journey. pleasethankyoutaaa.

 More happenings can be found on her facebook page - SarahJaneMusiq

as I walked home from the festival, a guy passed me by and asked if I was tired. I've stopped walking with crutches, but my foot is still sore, and frustrating that I am not able to walk at decent pace.

"no I'm not tired. this knee is fucked, and my other foot is very sore".

"wat zielig ben jij."

Fuck no. I am not to be pitied. and instead of taking the train, I aimed to walk home.

using money on Amsterdam public transport is like pissing money away in the wind. despite having scorned at the birds, their intentions shone through. don't walk, use the money to look after yourself, have faith that you will be provided for.  I can try to relax into that knowledge, but the insecurity of not knowing how finance will secure the health care I need, causes a nagging stress, and the reminder that my cash flow is insecure can pull the carpet from below my feet. and that feeling is a nemesis which takes effort to over-ride. what I can do is place hope that finances will become more secure, my prayer is that it secures in the quickest time possible. I feel itchy in frustration, and it rolls me over in stinging nettles.

today though, I cycled the first time in a week, and I processed my fears of feeling broken through lack of finance, and division of friendships.  and as I cycled past the lake, the sunset shone through the clouds. they say every cloud has a silver lining, but not always, this time was gold lining on pink sky. life has beautiful plans, and if I roll with it, it will give me more insight. and I hope that day of feeling peaceful comes again soon.

the world keeps spinning, changing the lives of people in it, nobody knows where it will take us, but i hope it gets better better better....

...music is healing.. i love the feeling,

one day all people ... will be all equal

until that day comes... i'll just keep singing... (Spinnin- Speech Debelle )

...warm love

The swifts were spanning the blue skies today. that's something I like about the Netherlands, is the full spanning of skies. People often ask me why I live in Holland, and a big part of the answer is that you can see a full horizon of skies. The scenery in Scotland can be beautiful and mystic, but its also darker in hues, and where there are hills, it takes part of the skyline away. sometimes stunning beauty, sometimes oppressive, particularly if I want an open feel of outlook.  During Breda summers, I have a romantic notion that Breda has the best skies, and I state justly so, because they are only touched by colours of the sunset. Now that I live close to one of the most famous airports in the world, flight paths imprint mans etcha-sketched thumbprint onto something naturally beautiful.

 

 

Actual Breda sunset.

Where as in Holland, the swifts seemed to stretch their wings in the expanse. In Sicily the swifts showed phenomenal aerodynamics. I sat with an orange juice in early morning, before rush hour on the ground began, rush hour in the air saw swifts darting, turning, gliding between the buildings, swooping towards the depths of pavements, sharp turns through alleyways, and soaring back into the skies. it was amazing to see. and it was nice to see nature intertwine so eloquently with what man has created. Rush hour in Palermo is also something phenomenal to experience, in fact not just at rush hour! to say its a different mentality, the tempo is very different to what you experience in other countries, and yet there can be kindness found in it. Mum said at one point that she had to remember, that scooters sounding there horns, is not out of rudeness, or that they might be upset, but more that they let you know that they are coming - which is handy. Whereas cyclists in Holland are treated like sacred cows, in Palermo, its the pedestrians who are given ultimate respect, lanes of rushing traffic will stop, or at least plan to avoid you as you walk across the road. Here's an example of tempo, Palermo traffic style..

My sister has a variety of theories. She has a love of Palermo, and that nature is beginning to take over where man is failing. Its not that Sicilians are failing, if anything I like the priorities that they make in life. if you take, lets say an industrious viewpoint, then Sicily is financially lacking, due to debts from war, corruption, and the current crisis. but from a different view, the vibe and soul in Palermo is warm and glowing. Family, Food, Fashion, Coffee and Ice cream (current trend is an ice cream brioche!). 

The birth of my niece was really a time for family to connect. but this time the connection was slightly different, my sister, in recovery from pregnancy, lacked buzz and opinion. on other occasions, she would have action packed days planned so that we could fully get to know the city that she's made her home. But instead, each day, she gave my dad a destination that she would like me and my brother to see. It was nice to see my parents adapting to a different culture. new language, new pace, adapting in their 50's and 60's takes some doing. They should have seen it coming though. my mum is not really worried what the Jones's think. (except when my sister wore neon "anti cool" waterproofs to a family walk, that time is the only time mum thought best to leave by the back gate, instead of promenade up the street). And only one time of frustration from a conversation was re told.

"and she said... oh I just think its funny, that one sons married his high school sweetheart.. and both my daughters are marrying, and have mortgages.. all my children are so settled"

"..and what was I to say.." says mother.."..well my oldest is head over heals in love with a refugee, my second oldest is running around South America with a  philandering latino, and my youngest.. well he's bringing back samples of Perth night life.."

That was said with a lot of tongue in cheek. there is a lot of tongue in cheek within my family, and its fun. walking along the street with my brother, it fell half into enjoying company, and a small part remembering old ways. and so this time I thought I might try to carefully amend bad habits..

"you know Fiona in high school used to spit all the time... but then a boy told her if we all spat on the street at the same time... we'd all be swimming in it."

"that's probably true Nic. but if we all held hands at the same time, its a nice idea, but no one would get anywhere would they? we'd be stuck in a circle all day..... Shall we go for a coffee?"

It was good having my brother there, he really took attitude of holiday. I had some moments of being overwhelmed sensitive wise, but he set the tone of holiday, and after taking 5 minutes to work through the buzz and tears of "it feels like too much is going on today", I could get back into the holiday vibe. I've read a lot from the sensitives-forum, and I get the sense that they crumble, hide and take offence with challenges to their comfort. If I didn't ride the wave and do it anyway, I would have been sitting on one of the most beautiful 30's style beaches I've ever seen. Advice to HSP, whilst self-compassion is needed, I do think to work through the emotions and experience life is very important to try.

So Pip sat on the sofa, "I want you to go see Monreale"

"Monreale is like nothing you will have ever seen, if you're willing.." Dad said, as we turned up the hairpin bend.  We'd taken two buses already, the blessing about not really knowing where you are going is that you find small parts of coolness. we found a building with amazing courtyard, and to the side of the courtyard was an art exhibition ( I'm sure the "lostness" of it all was inspired by Van Gogh. Max once thought a guardian angel of hers was Marilyn Monroe, it seems I'm more guided by an erratic artist with passion for nature. the grass is always greener.)   So the gallery was celebrating the work of Mimmo Germana, who's work celebrated the strength and colour of the mediteranean, which was hugely evident looking around. He also was described to be fiercely influenced in portraying human relation to environment.

anyway back to the hairpin bend. it was the most challenging hairpin bend I have walked around, for the following reasons.

• my brother took hold of the fence, shaking it.. "I think theres been an accident here.."
• below the fence was the roof of a house embedded into the rock,
• the height of the house spanned the gradient of the hairpin bend
• As my brother shook the fence, a helicopter flew BELOW us in the valley.
• I have never ever had vertigo in my life until then.

"lets just keep going" says I.

as we got halfway along the straight, my brother and dad started admitting to themselves that this was actually quite a mission. And as it was said, two elderly somethings ran past us on the steep slope. on return, Mum was upset that we did not see the mosaic work depicting different bible stories, whilst the big lights were on to highlight them. I was just happy we saw the place in daylight.

Cefalu

"Its a really good idea if you go to Cefalu". It was the first time that week that mum came off duty to have an afternoon with us.  My sister had one appointment, so mum would leave after she came back.
So my dad, brother and I set towards the bus station.  Dad had conversation with his new friend, the bus ticket guy, who thought dads Italian was really improving.
We caught the bus which weaved in and out of the Palermo streets, and in one instant thought we should get off that bus. and when we did, he just stood, maybe to get his bearings... maybe not. that's the frustrating part, is that there's no communication until he's certainly fathomed his answer.  during that time, the child within feels her brain turn to marshmallow, and a desire to stick a finger in her eye and swirl that marshmallow around a bit.

"Dad. do. you. know where we are? how long is it to the station?"

"ohhhh ten minutes.." and after a second reaffirming glance. ".. or twenty.."

the lesson is that it takes time and patience to travel around Sicily, plan for one or two things a day, and enjoy the journey getting there. the second part of the lesson, is that it takes even more time and more patience to travel around Sicily with dad.

So we took a left, and found ourselves in a nice little square, and after a few discussions on the likelihood of  actually getting the 12.08  train, "..Well shall we just go for a coffee." and so we did.

"well.." says dad on leaving." that was a great coffee"

"yes," says I "..its wonderful for taking the edge off the frustration, out of actually getting somewhere!"

Dad chuckled dryly.

we found the station, dad went to buy tickets, my brother is diabetic, and needed to buy lunch. and so we sat waiting for dad. I left them sitting, tucking into lunch. to go find the ladies room. but glancing at the clock, and calculating time for my dad and brother to gather themselves, and to see the distance towards the train.. I "encouraged" them to get a move on! we had 5 minutes before the train left. we, or rather I rushed towards the front, less busy carriages of the train, dad and my brother following. and when the first door tried wouldn't open "IDIOTS" may have escaped my mouth.

We arrived in Cefalu station,  and as I was working out that dad would have to walk back up from the beach within the hour to pick mum up. BUT. Mum was already there waiting on the platform! she had left earlier, asked directions in Italian, and walked to the station within twenty minutes. as apposed to our rough hour and half..

she had been sitting in the carriage, had been sitting there for ten minutes already.  and saw me passing, waving on the others, dad marching past with bags flapping, and my brother casually sauntering past, checking himself out in the reflection.

this is my family, and its a conundrum of tempo's, all compromising, all adjusting, but all loving.

I look at the tempo's of the birds in the skies, how they all function with different types of grace, speed and mentality. Swifts who never rest, but glide onwards at full speed. pigeons who seem to be the most adaptive birds to their situation, and Aberdeen Seagull who will ruthlessly mug you for a bacon sarnie. They are products of the environments they live in, and so are we. but we are also products of the relations we bare on ourselves and each other. and that's what I find fascinating.

its how I adapt to my family's tempos', and vice versa. but also being quieter, how I remain strong in sense of my own tempo. its a beautiful tension that I am still trying to work out, and come to terms with. I am now quite strong in me, but they shape how I am, but its my own decision as to how far I allow it to shape me and in what way. and I guess that's part of learning to feel balanced.

Seggesta

On the way to the airport, we stopped at Seggesta. Seggesta amazed me. that the ground and stones that crunched under my feet had been walked upon, fought upon 300 years BC. having said that, we didn't go directly to the temple.. we had our lunch in the car park. and besides the car park was a path that we walked up, walking past a sign blown down by the wind, which had likely said, no entry. but to which no enquiry was made. so we saw the ampitheater from afar.. but for me more interesting was the settlement close by. perhaps it's included in the tour... we didn't find out. beside the settlement was a stack of cannonballs, BC-style. if we used those today, no one would be bothered to start wars.

As I left my parents in the airport, a white feather passed by my dads shoulder, and I thought maybe it was angelic help in good relations that week, for which I was grateful.
But as I got onto the plane, I had a very bad feeling about the flight, I went into quiet irrational panic, "We're all going to die... have I had a happy life? what do I most treasure?" these were all thoughts..

first announcement from the cabin crew suggested that since we were and hour from Maastricht, we may want to order extra drinks... a second comment told us that someone was very ill on the flight and we would be diverting to Pisa.  its quite unnerving to feel a plane fly so fast you see the engines shaking, kind of like taking my mums old car up the highway. at 90.. 

on a spiritual note, it hit me, that if white feathers signify something, I need to ask for angelic help in distinguishing different signs. white feathers will appear during moments where love is, but I know that it will begin to panic me if white feathers are associated too many times with someone passing, and so new prayer begins for heightened communication, more specific signs, and more specific discernment.

the ambulance took the old man, but it waited by the plane for an hour. me and the Spanish girl discussed possibilities of what might be happening, an air hostess then told us the man has died. its a very shocking and chilling atmosphere whilst people are stilled in contemplation. This old man had walked on with his wife, planning to go to a destination together... and now the wife is in Pisa, alone.  with my Grandad, his deteriorating health meant that as sad as it was, we knew..  but this situation in Pisa, was so sad for the wife. And it hit home hard that life is so so precious, and yet fragile and indefinite. and those moments that we take for granted.. we really shouldn't.

This is one of dads favourite songs from Van Morrison. Warm love.

On a separate, but interesting note, well for those who still have interest..Whilst I was experiencing Sicily, in different corners of the world,  David was experiencing Palestine on foot, raising money for the Hope Flowers school in Bethlehem. There are some interesting insights in his blog that may not touch us via western media - I know why the caged bird sings

...Feeling Good

it started a few months ago with Kutweer. a dutch translation for shitty weather, except subtexting it with a slightly rude C word for the ladies v-jayjay (god bless Oprah for nationalising such a term). it was one of the words that Zussie taught me in Breda. and for personal intention, its never used to degrade the v-jayjay, I mean goodness me, its celebrated and attended to (worshipped)  in many parts of the world on a daily basis. who am I to imply c*nt as derogatory?

In the horse work in Breda, it was common use for exasperation's, kutriek, kutwijf, kutkop, kutkruidwagon, kutstroi...  so when I expressed sheer misery of the weather I was experience, it was to express, and to get it out of my system, on facebook. someone who is a great supporter of a creative friend, took umbrage and challenged me that it was an attack on womanhood, but it was never attack in that way. there was no intention in the words to attack womanhood, or to bring it down, but there was an attack on the state of the awful weather.

It was a few days later. and I had to cycle with the children to drop the eldest boy at a friend house. the weather wasn't rainy, but it was cold and slightly unpleasant. The little girl who normally could wear a vest in minus temperatures without complaint, got so upset that it was a heartfelt struggle to persuade her there and back. and as we dropped the boy off at the friends, and rested our bikes by the wall. there in small graffiti, was Kut. now this is not to say that my words and intentions influenced one of the coldest entries to summer I have ever experienced. I am not taking that responsibility. It says in the bible, that your belief, your faith can affect someone else, so is it then possible that my misery of words, my expression and belief toward the weather could affect others experience of the weather?

So I have started to meet with the lady I work for, the one who helps to nurture my HSP traits and spiritual side, to begin plans for the next steps. I am going to write more of my processing in a different blog.  questions of reflection came up, firstly who do I consider as being in my front line team, and secondly, what empowers me at the moment?

I wrote those names who I consider to stand strongly beside me in my notebook, in the end being me it wasn't a simple line of linked names, it grew to be several lines branching out strong from a central point. One line was the old faithfuls, those who have known me as I was then, and how I am now. There are those who inspire me. there are those who are spiritual, the Christians and the sensitives, and there's David, the patriarchal brother. And then there was that which which cannot be seen, only felt, but still important, Grampa.. Farao and Odessa, my equine friends both departed, and I'm almost sure Van Goghs taking himself into the team. But I'll explain that one another day..

My immediate team is always strong, but it rotates depending on me, and life.

Last summer, I had a strong network of brothership, which was great. I really love male companionship. But the drawback of hanging too much with the brothers was that my own feeling of femininity and attractiveness started to lessen and submit to feelings of others judgements towards others. it was never a point that I was seeking out their attraction on that level, I loved them as brothers, but seeing through their eyes what was deemed attractive, and knowing I was not in that cast, it had an affect on my own perception of myself.

And the issue came up again, as I met a brother for coffee, and we compared two friends of his, who were both blond. One was more Marilyn Monroe, and the other was more elfin type. He tried to set out that the elfin type was better looking than the Marilyn Monroe. To me, they were both blonds, however one, the Marilyn was more closed, and less attractive, and less confident, than the other. And perhaps I thought, maybe if the Marilyn Monroe felt more attractive in herself, then others perceptions towards her, might be different. there are always going to be people that are more or less aesthetically appealing, maybe.. maybe you can be the most attractive you can be, with the package you got.

So next day, whilst I was cycling to work. I thought I would experiment. on the basis that intention of misery in kutweer/shittyweather could be carried forward, if I simply spoke out "I am attractive", whether I believed it or not, to see if would it have affect... so it was said. breathed. and mentioned again on a couple of different bicycle trips, and then forgotten.

And I have to say, there has been some change. it wasn't done as a quest to feel most beautiful in the playground, or a step towards arrogance, but more peaceful feeling of my own value, and value in my own femininity, not just in aesthetics but also in a way of being. Nothing has changed in my daily routine, apart from increasing my exercise, which was done for my own feeling of fitness, apart from normalities of showering, using my toothbrush frequently, deodorant, eyeliner and mascara in the morning. nothing extra has changed. I am not able to see my own aura, although I'm sure some people can. But, I do know that people do respond to the energy that others put out. Because I know that I respond to theirs.

 In the last weeks, since accounting for my own value, I have found that more people have conversed with me, I've had more instances of split second connections with people. Cycling past the man who was so amused as his Labrador sprang like a gazelle through the long grass. for a split second we connected on that humour and I enjoyed it.
On leaving the cinema, the attendant who'd took my ticket, walked me out, and chatted with me about the movie til we parted at the train station, from there the train station assistants volunteered assistant (maybe I just looked clueless - who knows!). and I cant help wondering if my feeling of value was lowered again, and my energy was less open, would either of them have felt like connecting with me? would life even have put them in a position to connect with me?

We can be judged at how good looking we are.  We can judge ourselves on it compared to others. But it we're so busy concentrating on bringing ourselves or others down, what fun are we having?  who is having the joy?  We all have beauty, it just how we utilise it.

 

 

C'est dans la joie

 

Hey, I'd like to thank the creator for giving me this gift, and I'd like to thank you for being reflections of this gift, because sometimes you feel like you're by yourself a little.." - Erica Badu, Yeyo.

This week, spring has come to Amsterdam! at long last! and it allows me to see pockets of life where Amsterdam reveals the warmth and fun behind it. after school finishes, families round the amstel collect around picnic tables, benches I've cycled past unnoticed are filled with every kind of people. the warmth brings out the warmth, and i quite like it.

I was given a ticket to go see the Van Gogh museum. It had been sort of a reward for rebelling against organised group activities.. I really couldn't find the enthusiasm to take part in the easteregg hunt. So i went to the toilet, and when i came back, i was given an egg anyway. fair enough thought i.

I'd had a slight awareness of Van Gogh living in the south, my home was two villages away from his birthplace of Zundert, i didn't work this out until about a year or so into grocery trips. driving past vogh's self portrait on the welcome to zundert sign suddenly had meaning. well, better late than never. In visiting his exhibition in the Hermitage, Amsterdam., there were three things that struck me overall where his ethos was concerned, firstly was his absolute obsessive painting in the moment. to grab every possible feeling of the in that "now". Secondly was his interest in Japanese art and religious attention to nature and its affect.  He wrote letters to his brother marvelling at Japanese way of living with respect to their environment.

 

 

"..isn't it almost a new religion that these Japanese teach us. Who are so simple and live in nature as though they themselves are flowers. And wouldn't we be able to study Japanese art it seems to me without becoming much happier and more cheerful. and it makes us return to nature, despite our education and our work in a world of convention." - Van Gogh's thoughts in a letter to his brother Theo.

I was then very drawn to a second painting, and i really wasn't sure why at first. I preferred some others to it, others had sometimes more intricate brushwork, sometimes colours that i found more touching. but the energy that came off this one painting, brought that buzz to my hands. I have this buzz if i am around crystal stones, or more recently i found it also in spoken word with heart felt intention. Its just funny sometimes if you feel a good energy from something, but you have absolutely no rationale as to why. Reading the side posting, it described Van Gogh's hope in building an artistic community. Can all this good energy come from the mere hope of something? if so, how fantastic would it be. The Yellow House.

La Maison et son entourage, La Rue. courtesy of  http://www.parisprovencevangogh.com

I found some more information about Van Gogh, and gradually about his flatmate, and co-learner in art, Gauguin. Van Gogh wanted to have impact on people. and viewed painting as a constant path of learning to create art, he painted in the "now" but was also eager to learn from his peers. 

So I decided to look a bit further into Van Gogh, it niggles me though if I look at something I've written and it doesn’t really  fulfil what I want it to say. Which means extra enquiry, a little more that what I'd actually intended! Lazy student - moi? Well yes, my history teacher would have you believe something on this line, for some reason we didn’t click. I wasn’t too bad as a student, but a second to top for attainment in history class, and second to bottom for attitude and effort in history class, meant really I shouldn’t have written on that desk, shouldn't have.. ? really? why not write on the desk..?

.So it was a surprise module in university that made history interesting again.   An spirited study session with my one of my flatmates a thought provoking textbook, and fairly substantial measures of Baileys and ice. our new study method and discussion saved us from summer resits.  Our text book made history thought provoking and interesting, it was Landscape and memory by Simon Schama. 

 Simon Schama's suggestion is that the landscape around us is not just the physical, but is layered with connections that we make with it from past memories, emotions and future hopes. Through discussing war, ancient culture, and modernisation, he looks at  how we continually shape and are shaped by the land, our national character defined by what is around us, a deep and ancient connection with our environment.  He suggests,

It is in vain to dream of a wilderness distant from ourselves. There is none such. It is the bog in our brains and bowels, the primitive vigour of nature in us, that inspires that dream.''
 

 And if its really taken down to organic root levels, then it also ties to what  Van Gogh is trying to honour in his painting of the potato eaters, where its suggested that the browns of the earth connect full circle, the eating of what they have cultivated from the earth is now celebrated.  Van Gogh showing the most pure and organic connection with habitat around us was to be celebrated.  In conveying these thoughts, I'm not suggesting that we should throw away the lives that we like living, but just suggesting that we take time to evaluate the life that's built around us. Which parts of our environment do we connect to? which parts connect to us? which parts rejuvenate and inspire? which parts are organic, and which parts are synthetic? which bits are healthy, and which bits are not?

 Schama described that van gogh's mental health problems were both the catalyst and downfall to his art, and it was between those moments where a creative explosion would capture beauty. Van Gogh in his letters described awareness of his increasing bouts of illness. And in those moments of health, would summon confidence and courage to capture moments of nature.

 "If you work with love and intelligence, you develop a kind of armour against people's opinions, just because of the sincerity of your love for nature and art. Nature is also severe and, to put it that way, hard, but never deceives and always helps you to move forward.” - Van Gogh

 In expecting Gauguin to come and stay, he then anticipated a strength of creative force in combining two such different artistic styles. And who knows in the end which frictions, personal rivalry, difference in lifestyle, difference in artistic process… led to increasingly difficult mood swings from Van Gogh, and perhaps also escalating power struggles with Gauguin.. But what is true, is that in those nine weeks, over forty masterpieces were created between both Van Gogh and Gauguin which is a remarkable accomplishment.

 "I feel such a creative force in me: I am convinced that there will be a time when, let us say, I will make something good every day , on a regular basis....I am doing my very best to make every effort because I am longing so much to make beautiful things. But beautiful things mean painstaking work, disappointment, and perseverance.”  - Van Gogh.

 

In walking around the van Gogh museum, his wish to connect peoples emotion with the moment, and with his portrayal of real life beauty, his legacy really is fulfilled.   And whilst being an example of inspiration for future expressionists to follow, his strength of character in living through his own struggles and pressure can surely also be an inspiration in its own affect.  To look at a painting, and see the life in a ladies eyes. A real lady with concerns, sadness and frustration, through Van Gogh's portrayal, i can connect with her emotions captured hundred of years before.  and in a time where mental illness could not be fully understood or supported, I'm in awe of the mental strength and resilience he had to weather such stormy cycles, its fascinating to think of outbursts of creativity between storms clouds of mental illness. on one hand a pilgrimage of struggle, on the other hand mastery of colour, movement and foundation in which many could be inspired through expressionism. 

 

What am I in the eyes of most people — a nonentity, an eccentric, or an unpleasant person — somebody who has no position in society and will never have; in short, the lowest of the low. All right, then — even if that were absolutely true, then I should one day like to show by my work what such an eccentric, such a nobody, has in his heart. That is my ambition, based less on resentment than on love in spite of everything, based more on a feeling of serenity than on passion. Though I am often in the depths of misery, there is still calmness, pure harmony and music inside me. I see paintings or drawings in the poorest cottages, in the dirtiest corners. And my mind is driven towards these things with an irresistible momentum.” 


In the past, during more difficult situations i have wondered if strength of heart has indeed been strengthened. when the heart pain and anxiety is so great you have to literally strap it with a belt to relieve the pressure, i did wonder at times if it all this emotional stuff was worth it in a practical sense. I would love to say that this is steeped in melodrama, melodrama would be simple. but when emotions overload to impede physical living life, you really have to question it a bit. on some of the lighter occasion, heavier occasions i kept to being a private affair, but those lighter times where i was able to process it further, i would seek Davids advice.

And the wisdom that sticks to mind, was over a distressful unfathomable outburst I'd had from someone. And whilst he could also could not reason for it, sometimes he said, there are just situations that we cannot explain, but that they are there to bring us maturity. Some of the most beautiful things, are created through struggle and pressure, favourite examples of his being diamonds, and salmon.

feeling slightly weathered and not really eager to mature, or be honed.

"Thank you David, I'm quite happy not to be challenged, in fact at the moment I really wouldn't mind just being a Tuna".

But sometimes life doesn't really give you a luxury of choosing. And in hindsight, I am glad that it doesn't. One day, I am sure that there will be a little book of reflections on a Salmon.  so really keeping things salmon, Van Gogh is a hero, mastering his life struggles in balance with his art and leaving a legacy of colour, and emotional connection in which he as affect on peoples lives. And when looking at the colours and textures of his works, we are really reminded of his own emotional depths, and that's awesome to be affected by someones soul.

courtesy of the BBC.

 

 


two years ago, i decided to retire from buying Walkmans (mp3 players, I'm not that retro) and in losing my second Walkman charger, and first Walkman actually. i went with Zussie to buy a new one on sale, for being considerably younger than me, she was remarkably good at reminding me it was just for something to listen to this time. money mattered, and not quality of sound. three weeks ago, it came to be that i lost my cheap mp3, and in a moment of irony, on my table sat the charger from cheapo, and Walkman no.2. if there are moments that i cannot find my mp3 for the commute to Amsterdam, i take it as an opportunity to practise listening and coping with the world around. every sound seemed to be filtrating the same frequency for the duration. the sound of footsteps was the same intensity as the sound of a ticket being checked, as the sound of a bird singing, and as the buzzing sound of electricity cables above the tracks. all at the same time, it left me ridiculously tired, but i thought it was maybe better to practise.

on reorganising my final bag of belongings from breda, i found not only a charger for Walkman no.2 but i also found Walkman no.1 - wonderful! so wonderful to hear intricacies in music again. to hear chemistry in music, instead of a simple buffer to city living. and it brought me to remembering how refreshing life could feel before the events of last summer (see "Abide in Me"). and it awoke my yearning to just dance. the ability to "just dance" has also had its challenges. but i was reminded that it was the feeling of simply "being" in music. Home is where the heart is, well quite a few times, that's been in a mix, a blend of music that just lets me be. this is my respite from the struggle, my peace in the storm.

In an Antwerp club, there were always a variety of girls at that point. and a variety of dance styles. I stood with Timmy Jones, a brother figure at the time. i would introduce him to you as simply Timmy, but if he was here now, he would auto-correct me, shake your hand and re-introduce himself as Timmy.. Timmy Jones. leaving in no doubt that James Bond is his hero. we looked out for each other in the club, and had a wonderful ability of spotting each others potential pulling prey. I had a fashion at the time to challenge the boys to dancing the running man. purely for amusement. Timmy Jones.. with flare, took it to his level.

Usher

".. that was great Timmy Jones.. very suave, very very cool, very..erm..you. But I was kind of looking for something a bit more "eighties".
He gave me the biggest compliment once, Nic, its a fine day when you out shadow a black man dancing. i told him my theory, that its really black woman that dance good, and black men do a good two step alongside them. i don't know if he every fully agreed to that, but I'm sure he enjoyed testing the theory out. but that evening, i hadn't planning to overshadow anyone, this inspiration had come from one of a group of girls, who would come to the club in the final hours. when the partiers had faded out, grabbed their coats, and pulled. and instead of the ass shaking, that some girls in the early evening would do.. Timmy Jones would judge it in his way.

"..you know by some girls dancing.. you can tell that they're just not..."Educated"

Iwould leave Timmy to make his own judgements with an ammount of humour..but this girl would come in time for the slow jams and in simple relaxed way, the music channelled her to make golden energy that a jazz diva would hold. and so i would rather try find to be that grace than shake butt. shake butt i could do, but I'd rather then have taken the time for a level of connection beyond that.

Kaysha  - love de toi.

Reacquainting with my two lovely Walkmans, neither of who shall be sold or tampered with. new resolution. God has my faith, music is my religion, so be it, that mp3 players are the apostles of Antwerp, Breda and Rotterdam..... it inspired me to go dance. Friends were unable to, either with prior commitments, or lack of enthusiasm. in these cases, its the story of staying at home naemates, looking forward to another time that may not come. or just going with it, and seeing what life plans.

It turned out that life sewed everything together as it was most needed. sometimes its disappointing that friends aren't able to give the desired outcome, but its not worth becoming tiresome and frustrated about. of course there is justification to feel disappointment, and I'm not condoning that feelings should not be expressed to resolve those issues with friends. but at the end of the day, it takes our own efforts to overstep those heavy feelings, and don't we owe it to ourselves to enjoy life? is our feeling of disappointment really so important to fester upon? I hear this quote a lot, and it must be fashionable for a reason.

"life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, its about dancing in the rain"

and concept wise, if the "rain" is friends being unable to support you in something in the way that you had hoped. well overstep the heavy feelings, and dance anyway, from my experience, even if you have to take that opportunity to fly solo, breaking the mould or rut in how you see life as confining you, and you leave open to new possibility and connection. in my experience, life will provide the best or needed outcome for perhaps not just you, but also including those around you, and in that step of flying solo, and learning that you are already provided for, when are you ever actually really alone? i am nurtured, i am encouraged, and i am ready to dance again. C'est dans la joie. Its in the joy.

Mokobe - C'est dans la joie.

 

 

 

 

Abide with me..

Foreword - for those sensitive who are simply needing guidance  through the haze. Don’t worry about reading my story at this moment. Further down this scroll are a couple of lists with suggestions that might help you to feel more conscious and reconnected again.

 

Abide with Me - Emeli Sande

 

 

 

Last summer my time was split. I was living  in a hostel, where incredibly close connections were made.  The sort that big brother contestants talk about, without the cctv. And whilst it was wonderful to meet so many people, for being sensitive, it was not always so ideal.  There was

 Lack of space to maintain my own energy

 

Distraction from good diet, and a good sleep pattern

 

Crowds of people constantly around

 

Periods of change, in group dynamics, chemistry and emotion.

No possibility of exercising my normal vehicles of strength - horses, music, dancing. 

 

 

I was younger I'd be profoundly affected by somethings more than others. We had a utility room built into the house. And I could not get used to its strong smell, but I did develop a technique  of holding my breath to collect towels, or to pick something out of the freezer. Sometimes dad would put on Scottish music on, for a family ceilidh (non Scottish people, pronounced kay-lay) and I love to dance. For the fast dances, I would skip around, when the waltz was played, I would retire to the sofa feeling unusually sad. I had my own room, and Sunday afternoons, I would spend hours making mix tapes. I think this is when strength in music started to grow. When I used to get frustrated about things, by brother would say, "but you're just sensitive", and only now does it make sense.

 The year before last, I'd go out partying with my sister team, and I preferred one place to others. It had a reputation for being tacky, but the chemistry was great, it was a place I could feel good vibes from. Take me to the place next door, and it was itchy for a fight. Yet working in the countryside, I could feel aware of other things spiritually. But felt I had an understanding, I respect their space, they respect mine. And it worked there. There were sometimes somethings tried to "play" but my sense of being in control was strong, and it seemed to balance things.  But moving Amsterdam, well it took things to a different level.And toward the latter part of my stay there something opened my eyes to other things. To be called high sensitive. I think there are different layers and different levels. From what I see on forums, some are more perceptive in some areas than in others

 It put into an experience where I could witness how strong and malicious something can be.  There had been a fellow cleaner at the hostel, and for three weeks of her stay. She ignored me. But something, and I can't remember what, well it changed. She would begin to wake up at same time as me. .."good morning.. How are you?" with tone that even now gives me shivers.  Things spiralled unusually. With very unexpected behaviour from her. And one night, it began to disturb my living more. If you touch your face, what feels natural is the pressure of your own skin, the pressure of your own touch,  your own muscles moving in your own hand.  Its an unusual change, that as you prepare to sleep, the tension in your own hand changes, and then tension in your own lips change. And sounds are made, that you would never expect to make. My body is a control freak, the dentist could tell you that.  So  to lose that control of your own body, is un-nerving. The first time, I gave situation three chances, like I require the universe to give me three bits of proof to accept that something is a reality. Three times, happened, and to myself it was a extra acceptance, that I should have to confide in the member of night staff on. He was a fanatic, and I have a low tolerance with religious fanatics. Through three hours of conversation, we gained new respect for each other. He offered to pray, and it worked, it was like anaesthetic.

 Night 2, and it happened again, except the tension in my hands, felt like those of a dirty of a dirty old man. And those dirty hand began to fondle my precious hair. If you are in a bar, well this speaking from  Scottish perspective. You can give a dirty old man a good scorning, with vicious tongue or a good smack to the face.  But if its from an unseen entity, where you question your own sanity, and reality, then it not only confuses, but it violates your soul.  It makes you feel dirty, and the next morning fills you with so much grief to look a friend in eye invokes a flood of tears that can't be explained. To gain composure I went to the toilets, and screamed, but the scream was still not my scream.

 That morning I was due to work, and from there found that the lady I worked with was also sensitive, and in calm caring ways, mothered my sensitivity and its new wounds. That afternoon, I snapped at a brother figure who I respect a lot for strong attitude, realistic, cynical, and slight humorous tone of grumpy old men at Christmas.

"..are you alright love?"

"..you know what, I'm not going to answer that today, because you're just going to give me bullshit that it's in my head, so ask me again tomorrow."

Quietly and steadily.."..are you feeling attacked?"

 

"Yes".

 

Not much more was discussed on it, but I felt a strength of support from three friends and mentors at that point, the sensitive lady for care and encouragement, and the strength that a scientific mind found validation in my reality.  A third mentor came in the humour, voice and guidance of a wonderful Australian who swore outright in a christian hostel.  From what i learned from them, i hope that if there is also someone in the situation, this might give you a little strength or guidance.

 

Take comfort that your reality is real.

 

Remember that the feeling of panic is sometimes more than the actual happening.

 

Take time to concentrate on a balanced, calm, loving "line" that centres your body, and breathe from it

.

 

 

Take full concentration to the texture of something beside you.

 

 Concentrate on The feeling of your weight in a seat

 

 

Imagine that there is a bubble wrapped around you, with that same feeling of the loving line.

 

Really take time to feel the weight of your feet on the ground. I found it useful to walk barefoot, and feel the texture and temperature of the ground I was walking on.

Take time to concentrate on how you breathe. Remove yourself, detach yourself from drama. If you feel yourself pulled towards drama, take time to breathe and balance again to that "line".

Find a place of prayer, prayer works. I don’t care which religion. I did find that there was a strength in Jesus name, but the name alone, was the entirety of the process.

 Take time to sing. and if you are not able to sing. listen to music that you connect with. and hold onto it like rope. some people suggested soft gentle music, but i am someone that likes punkass strong energy. Enya on this kind of occasion would just not bridge the gap. For me at this time, strength came through songs from Emeli Sande, and a dutch hiphop group called Zwart licht. they are more than worth a listen to.

 

 

Freestyle by Zwart Licht, (a future solo album from one of Zwart Licht is Daar Ergens)
 

As activity with friends went on, I had to take further time apart. It was frustrating at times as I missed out on fun. Or it felt like that. I could communicate one hundred percent but I was nowhere near one hundred percent connection. On a sunny afternoon, they playing guitar, laughing, shouting, and it was too much. So I sat, with a brother figure. Friends jamming with guitars on the other side of the court yard.  It was another brother figure that I talk to in Dutch, hoe is het meisje?

 "its shit. I want to be there. But I cant focus on them. The only things I can connect with from their reality at this minute, is to listen to the sound of the fountain on the water, or look at the sunlight shining through that segment of that leaf there on the branch. more than that, and i am lost. Do you understand?"

 "its deep. Pffff. But I do understand, but your learning is deep, you are just a special person."

 

Things got a little worse before it began to ease. its an alienating experience when things happen that disturb your comfort and reality, but which you cannot truly relate to the majority of your friends. Despite my struggle, "normal" life was going on regardless, passing me by without me being able to enjoy in a fully connected way. For ten days, until lady left, I was allowed to sleep on the padded chillout bench in the garden. There I  still had some attempts to settle to sleep.  But to hear the fountain was my focus.  The challenges became more intense, I would have lets say "invasions" whilst the lady passed, or as I looked in the mirror.  A blessing further came in two christian friends who also had discernment. Some Christians call it discernment, other more traditional and conservative minds, call it sin passed down from generations. these to two girlfriends became my anchors when things became unbearable. i am so grateful to have them in my life.

 It came to one final morning, when the feeling around me was crushing. and i think I'm allowed to be a drama queen at this point, when i say crushing i mean superman and kryptonite. bad ass.  The bible discussion that morning had been "appropriate", the manager looked at me to confirm that I understood. Stand strong and let the lord battle for you. That is all very good and well, if its in visual reality, you can see a bus coming hurtling towards you and know you were given legs to run. But how on earth when you feel that same force coming towards you, but you cannot account it to any proportion, how can you trust that the crippling will stop.  In that day, I stood with a friend behind the counter of the cafe, and she held my hand. And I breathed.

 "why on earth, would anyone want to open themselves to voodoo or ouija, they have no idea what they are playing with, and I have to martyr the consequences of her life choices and decisions.."

 The next morning, it was enough. The cleaning lady sought ought my space again in an unusual way, but I showed no negativity. The cafe team prayed. And I took five minutes to talk with the lady.  And towards the end, she looked me with tearful eyes. "..you know its not my heart, they come through my head". I knew it wasn’t her heart, she was a kind lady. But her choices in spirituality led me to weeks of discomfort and detachment.  In the end she chose not to pray, and she chose search out new religion, and she followed a path back to prostitution. As a sensitive,  walking through streets of prostitution in Amsterdam, ties feeling of a rope round your neck, and it pulls tight, and rejoices as it does so. and its not ashamed of rejoicing and defiance.

 Since then, regaining consciousness, and feeling connected is returning in baby steps.  Its unstable, but its given me new appreciation of the world around me. Though mostly still in small proportions, its given me focus and discernment in my own reality. Its most important for me to feel clean, to act in a clean way, to be clean. This is also small steps. as slow as it has been, its been a blessing in requiring me to reassess what is around me, and from that, what is important to honour.

On one of the last summer evenings, we sat in a group by the canal, hitchhiking a boat ride. and towards the end of a special evening, i sat back looked at the two groups of friends. how rich is this small tapestry of happening? one group, people from all corners of the world sharing a joke. so many kinds of different laughter and humour, the second group, well how amazing is life that it can bring two people from different life perspectives, and share their stories of Singapore. bringing understanding to one, and self worth to the other.  someone has created the brickwork that we're sitting upon. then towards the lighted bridge, how many stonemasons, and carpenters made the bridge and how many wives, families, pieces of bread and drinks of beer supported them?..and the lights on the bridge, those who connected the electricity, those who found inspiration to create electrical light, and those people who supported those pioneers to go forward in inspiration to create the environment that we are now in. As i was thinking about this, and thinking also about how not to get too deep in thought on this. how wonderful life has created itself, life is also the wind that blows ripples along the canal. its both the inspiration and action of man, yet also in nature and elements that I've taken for granted along the way. its a rich tapestry and it all connects.

 A list for the sensitives! and also of interest to others..
 

Firstly get to know your reality, make friends with it, by being sceptical that it feels clean. to illustrate  this further, this from spoken word artist UNOM, who belongs to part of the Poetry Circle Nowhere . An Average Citizen,

 

Take time to look and feel  whats been created around you. Nature and man made.

 

Take time to consider  the smallest bits and pieces around, and appreciate it.

Make time to praise.

Be thankful.

Exercise.

Paddle in the sea.

Keep some stones around you - amethyst, rose quartz, black tourmaline, jade..
.
Make time for animals. Make effort to be around nature. Make time to notice it.

Take time to detox.

Be sceptical of the food you eat. Eat clean organic food when ever possible.

Listen to, or read wholesome  or inspiring words. By this I don’t necessarily mean just the bible or books of faith. Something written by the heart, that inspires you, that moves you, that fills you with positivity.

Go see something human. Or organically human. Theatre, acoustic music, something performed from the heart. Something with energy.

 its a difficult process, but support yourself through it. keep going! should a wonderful event draw a large crowd. go enjoy it anyway! just find a wall to stand beside.

 

                                                                     Celebrate life!

 

This tune. though christian (i don't say this in a disrespectful way. but most christian worship songs focus that Jesus is the only way to following god. i do not sit with that as a truth, and therefore will not sing it. which makes for patchy chorus!) having said that, it is a very poignant song for me,  and would mostly appear at moment where i most needed confirmation that life or god, or the universe, was in control. I liked it because i could connect with with my experience, and the learning that i should not fear, or worry, but that things are, and would be taken care of, and that my simple roll was to rejoice in blessings, and celebrate life around me. This is an ongoing lesson. Because of the strong connection of this song with last summers happenings, it has the power to uplift me when i am rejoicing good things in life, or with the simple crack of an egg, it yokes every emotion of powerlessness and worry from me.

 

 

The sun comes up, it's a new day dawning
It's time to sing Your song again
Whatever may pass, and whatever lies before me
Let me be singing when the evening comes
 

And on that day when my strength is failing
The end draws near and my time has come
Still my soul will sing Your praise unending
Ten thousand years and then forevermore

I returned to meet friends from the hostel at new year. and this song which had been so poignant , unexpectedly appeared at the singsong shortly before the fireworks. it led me to emotionally meditate, feeling like i passed the finish post from a year that tore the rug from my feet and rebuilt me again, i was standing at the finish line. feeling somewhat battered and bruised but  I'd survived the difficulties with the support of life around me, and i stood weeping at the skies, feeling like i deserved every colour exploding from every firework.

These days, living outwith Amsterdam, i am able to feel more balanced and building reconnection, and still have some healing to do,  and so to honour and celebrate my hair that took the brunt of violation, for meaningful occasions, and those days i need reminded of beauty,  i adorn a flower.

 

Photography courtesy of Gudrun Sjoden