Category: Fear

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The writer who never was

On By aconstanttlearnerIn Art, Authenticity, Craft, Creative Process, Death, Dread, EGO, Fear, Freedom, Grief, Human nature, introspection, Loss, Pain, purpose, ramblings, Social Media, Thoughts, wisdom, WritingLeave a comment

Lately, I feel like I am living in a parallel universe. I have not written a word on here for a considerable amount of time, and yet my stats have been exploding these past few months. There was minimal activity from readers on my blog at the peak of my creativity and now that I have not written for so long, I have people from all over the world reading my posts every single day and lots of them. How does that make any sense? Maybe there is a lesson in there; someone, somewhere is trying to tell me something. Could it be that I needed to go through this period of creative barrenness and anonymity; a time where my wellbeing and sense of gifting and creative flare was not reliant upon how many likes or comments I received for every post I wrote?

I remember writing previously about how even death has a purpose, how even dead leaves on the ground serve to nurture future new shrubs and trees. So, if nature is so incredibly resourceful and infinitely wise, it figures that we, the human race, as a fundamental part of the natural world, will also serve a purpose even as we die. The death I speak of is a figurative death, it is the death of the Self, of the ego. What could be more effective in generating  life from death creatively speaking than to let the creative outlet run dry, inert to the point where all interactions between writer and readers subside to a complete halt; to the point where not even the author has a desire to revisit old posts or check in every now and then? Who in their right mind would wish to revisit the source of the complete annihilation of their creative self, the grounds where once that Self excelled and shone with confidence, wisdom and craft but now there are only echoes of failure on so many unwritten pages that could have been? I am trying to understand, give sense to this period of unending draught in my writing; this heart-rending ongoing lack of inspiration, and the only explanation that makes any sense is that everything around us and in us is ephemeral or at least needs to undergo a periodical process of death and renewal in order to shed bad habits, deadweight, misconceptions that hamper and obstruct the free, organic flow that making art invariably requires. Somewhere along the way my writing got contaminated by the dos and don’ts, the what ifs, the fear of saying too much or perhaps too little. I was too much in my own head, so intent on seeking perfection and praise that I stopped sharing and showing my soul in its purest form. Trying to be all things to all people was never the optimal path to freedom and fulfilment. I should have known better!

The death of the creative Self, however, is not the only depleting force that has dominated my life as of late. They do say that when you lose someone very dear to you, a piece of you dies with them. I have most certainly experienced this to be undeniably and achingly true. The death of your own child is inconceivable, impossibly devastating for sure, but I think many of us underestimate the effect of losing a or both our parents, especially when you lose both within days of each other. Our children are where we are going, an extension of ourselves. Losing a child must be like our own life, our future has been cut dramatically short. And yet our parents signify where we came from, for many of us they simply constitute a third of our entire life, indeed, the most important part during which we form our convictions, our morals, our dreams, our standards for each and every goal we pursue for the rest of our lives. What happens to trees when you sever their roots or to a vessel when conditions turn adverse the further it sails away from the safety of the harbour? Like a grand statue that sits proudly and commanding, we lose our balance, our North, our raison d’etre if and when that sturdy, solid pedestal that holds us firmly in position and gives us a stable perspective gets taken away from us forever.

Since losing my parents three years ago (even acknowledging it was three years ago already fills me with unbearable emptiness) I feel naked to the world, exposed. My roof as well as my foundations have been pulled away from under me. Vulnerability engulfs me like a tortoise without its shell. I am sure my readers are sick of me sharing about my grieving process, but if I am completely honest, having finally resurfaced from the ashes, literally and figuratively, I do not give a damn about what people may think reading what I write. I honestly do not. I know who I am: the good, the bad and the ugly. I do not care for stats, followers, popularity or even validation of my writing. None of it matters one iota any more. Social media is the biggest farce of the 21st century which has primarily served to make the human race even more self-centred and void of empathy and altruism than it ever was. Social Media is the intrinsically flawed and irreparably doomed pedestal upon which so many of the current generation have mistakenly built their sense of identity, their dreams and hopes, and just as it happens when falling in quicksand, it will eventually overpower them when faced with the reality of this new all-consuming monster that encases and owns them, rendering them unable to tell where the quicksand begins and they end.

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For better or for worse

On By aconstanttlearnerIn Acceptance, Anxiety, Authenticity, Challenges, adversity, Character, courage, Criticism, Dignity, EGO, Fear, Freedom, friendship, Herd mentality, Human nature, Intuition, Loneliness, Mental Health, Relationships, Self love, self-fulfillment, Social Media, Solitude, Stoicism, Strength, Thoughts, wisdom4 Comments

There is one remarkable thing about grief and losing someone who was a pillar in your life. It is a sobering reminder of how cruel and unforgiving time is. So much energy and effort invested during a life span in things and people which are inconsequential to our development or well-being. Why do we do it? Why is peer pressure such that we succumb to it at the expense of our own freedom? The death of a loved one, specially if you lose two people who are most dear to you at once, is a pivotal moment of reckoning: no more bullshit, no more pretence, people pleasing or wrestling with yourself to match other people’s expectations of who you should be. It is incredibly liberating but also ruthlessly punishing in that a process of shedding skins begins until there are no superfluous layers left. For the very first time, everyone gets to see the real you. It does not matter whether they love or despise what they see. They will hate you anyway simply for having the audacity to go against the grain, to break all convention and to think of your own needs first. It is through that exposure that we become vulnerable to the attacks of the world, ostracised for having the nerve to live according to the integrity and honesty of one and one only.

I am tired. I am so tired of trying so hard to not rub people the wrong way; tired of fitting in in an environment that is foreign, adverse, and harmful to me and my own needs. I am tired of complying so that I do not grate on those who live by what society regards as polite, courteous, admirable, acceptable behaviour. The tribal syndrome that obsesses over belonging and meeting the criteria to be accepted into the herd, following a certain code, certain patterns and attitudes, certain beliefs, acceptance or rejection, praise or judgement, the never-ending gossip or mocking of others which help us validate our own perceived superiority. This invisible societal collective force becomes the monster that rules over us and suppresses the individual for the sake of the entity, the herd, the gang, the tribe, whatever you want to call it; the group we humans desperately try to belong to so that we can feel loved and accepted, we can feel valid, successful and powerful.

Surely, the biggest life achievement in the world we currently live in has to be succeeding in disregarding misinformation and the mighty oppressive force within cancel culture, beating to your own drum and striving to develop that discernment that is so essential to navigate the murky waters of social media, politics, the news and even religion. Irrespective of what you may think about the bible, there is no denying there are buckets of wisdom within it. One of my very favorites and a mantra that dwells in my brain often is: Bad company corrupts good morals/character. I am often looked at like I am some sort of rare and weird animal species because I am extremely vigilant, guarded, and selective when it comes to whom I let into my circle of trust and friendship. And as with anything or anyone human beings fear and do not understand, they tend to malign it and try and persuade others to give it a wide berth. It can be lonely at times and incredibly challenging to the point where your core is shaken and broken as you doubt your own self. Do not succumb to that pressure. Better to be alone than in bad company.

I’d be very interested to hear other people’s views on this, so if you are reading this post, you are very welcome to leave me a comment. I don’t have all the answers, far from it, but I am fully aware of what is good for me and what is not. Loneliness I can cope with. I actually feed and grow from times when I am alone. I crave it all the time. I need it as much as I need water or food. What I cannot live with and can easily kill us one day at a time is going against our gut instinct, our principles, our nature. We all struggle with coping with too many voices in our head, but it is vital to listen to that small voice that is telling us to swim against the current. If it is challenging, unpopular and often lonely, nine times out of ten, it will be worth it and it will be right.

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Stripping it down

On By aconstanttlearnerIn Ageing, Challenges, adversity, Character, courage, Creative Process, Fear, Freedom, Fulfilment, honesty, introspection, Loss, Parenthood, purpose, ramblings, self fulfilment, self-discovery, Selflessness, Strength, WritingLeave a comment

Those who really know me would describe me as a woman of few words, and yet when it comes to writing and self-expression, I have always had plenty to say and been able to simply just let it pour out of me, at least in written form. It is likely the result of going through the process of grieving my parents’ passing and the family breakdown that ensued soon after; compounded by me getting older and living a more routinary life with less peaks and troughs; less volatility and more mundane, repetitive activities. Either way, there is no denying that my creative juices have not been flowing as they used to for a long time now. I am well and truly stuck. As a result, I have decided to simply write about anything and everything. I will write as and when I feel like it without putting pressure on myself to produce the next blogpost. To that effect, I wish to start writing more in the form of diary entries as opposed to laborious pieces with a beginning, a middle and an end, a premise, an argument, and a conclusion. I am now at a stage in my life where I seek simplicity in all things. I know it is a natural progression as we age to seek such tranquillity. Could it be that we subconsciously veer towards what we know is inevitably coming? That way, there are no nasty surprises, no disappointment, just acceptance and an easier ride.

I do not know whether the defeatist stance suits me, though. I am like a bad weed (are there any good ones? lol); the harder you tread on me, the stronger I rise back up. Only, after this last knock, I am truly finding it so much harder. I go to the gym four times a week and on two of those occasions I do two classes back-to-back; all strength-training and cardio based, so I consider myself to be pretty fit for my age. Often, the endorphins kick in and I have a sudden burst of energy which enables me to be incredibly productive in terms of my motherly and business and homeowner duties, but little energy and time is left to focus on the creative side of me, the part of me which lives not according to responsibility and deadlines but rather to self-development and nurturing.

I was raised in an environment where high achievers were the most visible and respected and anyone outside of that category often went unnoticed through the growing up years regardless of their talents, work ethic or dreams. Outstanding results were the be all and end all of a happy, successful life and without those life lacked any purpose or meaning. It is for this reason that as much as I try, there is an overwhelming sense of guilt every time I find myself idle or with any kind of spare time to do what I want or need to feel fulfilled. I am so used to being productive with my time that on the odd occasion when I have that spare time, I fill it with more chores and items to tick off my to do list. Time and time again, I choose responsibility over freedom; tangible results over simply being in the moment, planning, meditating, pondering, dreaming. It is like an out of body experience where someone else takes over and gets it all done in robotic fashion, but where is my soul; what happened to my heart, my spirit? What in all that doing sets me apart from anyone else? What in all that performance defines the essence of ME?

Thank God I have two incredible children into whom I have invested every ounce of my energy: mental, physical, and emotional. They are an evolved extension of me. The work in progress that is me will go on long after I am gone hopefully. But what about me in the here and the now? Becoming and being a parent was a pivotal stage in my life, but what about the rest of my life? Is it selfless to continue investing in them or is it really cowardice preventing me from facing life head on and taking on new challenges? What am I afraid of? Surely, it cannot be failure. I have achieved so much already; been through so much already. I truly could not care less what other people think. What then has such a powerful hold on me; what are the ropes tied around me that are holding me back from venturing forward to new possibilities?

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A river of tears

On By aconstanttlearnerIn Anxiety, Butterfly, Challenges, adversity, Character, Conscience, courage, Death, Dread, Fear, Freedom, Fulfilment, honesty, life, Life's Choices, Morals, Negativity, Pain, Philosophy, purpose, Rebellion, Sacrifice, self fulfilment, Self love, self-discovery, Selfishness, Selflessness, Spirit, Stoicism, Strength, The meaning of life20 Comments

She sat there feeling defeated, sipping her coffee whilst listening to Massimo Viazzo’s ‘River Flows in you’. The irony of the title of that piece, she thought, her mind filled with visions of a life that flowed like a river: weightless, spontaneous, vibrant, free. Her spirit, however, laid so arid, almost inert gasping for droplets of hope that would then merge and cause her existence to effortlessly flow into a vast sea of yet unopened doors and passageways she felt inexplicably drawn to. By the age of 20, Esperanza had already travelled to USA, UK, Australia, and most of Europe. What happened to me? she thought. At what point in my life did I begin to regress; did I allow my hopes to be rudely replaced by all my fears?

Tears running down her face, sobbing, unable to hold it all in any longer. Maybe ‘Cry me a river’ would have been more apt, she laughed begrudgingly, maybe the purpose of all these tears is to empty out til there is nothing left. Maybe then and only then, she consoled herself, I will experience an epiphany provoked by the avalanche of the mountain of all my tears drowning out my sorrows, and the impact will be of such magnitude that it will force me to finally metamorphose into the butterfly that laid dormant all these years. Hope by name, Hope by nature. Hope was undeniably all she had left.

The problem was that when hope visited, it never came into Esperanza’s consciousness alone. She always arrived holding a mixed bag of responsibilities, a good conscience, a sense of loyalty and all the other laudable attributes we admire on others but know fully well stop us from living the life we really feel we were born to live. What an impossible mix of emotions she had been dealt. How does one live knowing they are sacrificing their dream for a peaceful conscience, when it is that very dream that helps us push on, take another step, breathe life and positivity into those under our care? How does one ingest a poisoned chalice being fully aware that the very act of salvation is irrevocably and simultaneously mired in condemnation?

The conundrum of whether life is an act of selflessness or selfishness kept her awake at night and riddled with anxiety in the day. Her mind told her one thing but oh how her robust beating heart told her quite another. She knew complete peace and stillness would only come when she breathed her final breath. And yet there was far too much joie de vivre in her to surrender into her fate just yet. This agonising battle of what’s right and what is meant was ironically the fuel that fired her soul; a quest for the hidden treasure she was determined to fulfill til she found an answer; even if it turned out it wasn’t the answer she had hoped for all along. Taking on that unthinkable gamble is what gave meaning and purpose to her life but it was also what was killing her restless spirit one bellicose day at a time.

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Life is a messy affair!

On By aconstanttlearnerIn Acceptance, Ageing, Anxiety, Cosmic Justice, Death, Disappointment, Fear, Human nature, humanity, humility, Instinct, introspection, life, Life's Choices, Loss, Pain, Philosophy, purpose, Stoicism, The meaning of life8 Comments
Photo courtesy of my son

It always throws me out of kilter how we live life with such breathless intensity, with such a sense of self-importance. We strain and strive to seek purpose and we convince ourselves that we are the movers and the shakers, that the entire world will cease to be, should we stop to actually take a deep breath and savour the act of simply being alive. And yet, at a moment’s notice all that relevance, meaning and feeling that we are right where we are meant to be, comes crumbling down, is pulverised when we learn about the passing of another or their terminally ill diagnosis.

I had such news about an old friend this morning, and quite frankly, I am shocked to the core. I mean, I am a fairly positive, driven person who is industrious and eager to make life better for those around me, those dependant on me, and at various stages of my life also for strangers in need. My life makes complete sense. I am on a journey, and I am increasingly aware that to every beginning there is an inherently tragic end, but nothing prepares you for the sense of weightlessness, irrelevance even, that the news of someone’s sudden, unexpected death inundates us with.

Humans are desperately born into an existential dilemma; and unsolvable equation: in order for our lives to be maximised, to garner the utmost sense and purpose, common sense forces us to become selfish, self-absorbed, limited in our sight. We choose a lane in our journey, and we stick with it, because we know a race is only truly won if we focus primarily on what is around us, if we persevere to the end. And yet, living that way equates to applying a tight blindfold on ourselves. We enter a period of denial about our rightful place in the universe, about our irrelevance when confronted with the bigger picture. Is it safe or even ethical to live any other way, though? Can we truly live if we are permanently aware and reminded of our own finiteness? Wouldn’t that be the same nonsensical behaviour as barricading our own exceedingly small window of opportunity to live in the moment, to savour every breath, every experience enjoyed or hoped for? When I heard the news of our friend who has had a severe brain bleed and whose prognosis, if he comes round, is to live the rest of his life in a vegetative state, my sense of self just went up in smoke. What is this absurd game called life that we put every fibre of our being into taking part in and winning, if that elusive higher power can just arbitrarily and abruptly throw us out of the game? What is the point of even playing if our odds overwhelmingly point to losing before we get to the end that we strived and hoped for? Numb in my kitchen in my family’s presence, time stopped, and I felt as if I were standing in front of a mirror, but I could see nothing. No before, no now, no tomorrow. Nothing, just a fleeting shadow embodying a gradually intangible lifetime. What is the point of it all if after all the striving, the worry, the suffering, the fear, we can just seamlessly go from being the masters of our universe to the dust in someone else’s journey?

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The Rust in ProcRASTinate

On By aconstanttlearnerIn courage, Creative Process, exposure, Fear, Human nature, humanity, introspection, Musings, ramblings, thoughts, introspection,, Sacrifice, Writing4 Comments

I cannot believe it has been six months since I last wrote on my blog. It is funny, a couple of weeks ago I found myself having an etymological discussion with my four siblings about the origins and meaning of the word ‘procrastinate’. If only I had explained to them my absolute inability to summon my elusive writing muses to my desk, they would have understood the procrastinate notion perfectly well. No, we are not a family of nerds who choose lexical dilemmas as our favourite ‘catch up’ subject. We simply like to keep our WhatsApp group-chat fresh, jovial, and didactic. Otherwise, we all end up yoked by the all-consuming worry of a father battling and losing to Alzheimer’s and a mother whose precious last years are being devoured by the sense of sacred loyalty vowed to a man whom she no longer recognises and inevitably resents.

I suppose writing is like running. The more you challenge yourself, the better you get at it. Ironically too, the better you get at it, the bigger the pressure you feel to regularly oil the engines so as not to lose momentum, productivity, and quality of work. Sometimes that pressure to keep up with your own self can be so asphyxiating; it can create such a sense of dread of failure, that it is easier to just stop so as to avoid any disappointment.

Who am I trying to kid, right? We all know the real reason any writer worth his/her salt puts off writing, is because we are painfully aware that with every word, every admission, every nuance, another secret door opens onto our complex and wretched soul, and who voluntarily stands naked in public up close and personal for all to stare, scrutinise, judge or worse still, be indifferent to? You would have to be mad, wouldn’t you? Specially in this day and age where humanity takes much more pleasure in destroying, savaging, and breaking apart rather than building up, encouraging, and edifying others.

Writing when done properly, authentically, unreservedly is indeed a tremendous act of courage. And who willingly chooses to tread where the brave dare not go?

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Cosmic Justice

On By aconstanttlearnerIn Acceptance, Ageing, Anxiety, Corona Virus, Cosmic Justice, Covid 19, Epiphany, Fear, Freedom, introspection, Karma, life, Menorca, Negativity, Old Age, Pandemics, Providence, self fulfilment, Silver Linings, Spirituality, twitter, Universe, Vision, Youth7 Comments

Here I am on the luminous island of Menorca about to enter into the final straight of my fifty first year, and what a year it has been. Despite the Covid pandemic starting halfway through it and turning all our worlds upside down, shaking all our priorities to the core, and bringing so many of us down to our knees, this past twelve months have been for me one of the best years of my life in so many respects.

Professionally, I have not gained more knowledge or experience, but our business has had its best year yet, which is rather miraculous in itself, bearing in mind there have been months during which businesses we work with were practically closed; work on various building sites slowed right down; huge delays and insufferable uncertainty were the norm rather than the exception, and due to the widespread lock-down measures and fear of contagion and possible death, we all took stock of what was truly important and suddenly empathy and philanthropy took the place of sales figures, competitiveness and profit. Perhaps there is a lesson of cosmic justice and karma in there somewhere. I would like to think so.

Perhaps the lesson to be learnt was for some learnt too late though. My husband is an addict. He is addicted to his work. He gets high on it; cannot live without it and finds his self-worth and identity mainly within it. And yet, as with any drug, there is a lurking, permanent, pounding hooded claw that slowly but surely gets hold of you and will not let go until the very thing we sacrifice so much for quietly leads us to a certain death. Last Christmas we came to our house in Menorca for what we thought would be 10 days. Covid had a very different idea and soon after our arrival, the situation changed and our flight back to UK got cancelled. At that point we decided that seeing as the number of cases in Menorca was miniscule compared to the UK where pandemonium was ensuing, it would be utterly senseless to not ease into what was initially an adverse circumstance and turn it into a blessing. And so, we decided to stay on a few weeks longer. Unfortunately, by the end of January my husband who continued to have his daily fix of insatiably getting new orders and sniffing out potential future ones, suffered a minor stroke that left him completely numb on the right-hand side of his body.

He is now almost fully recovered. He still has some numbness and pins and needles on part of his right-hand side but again, all in all, it was a miraculous miss, for it could have been the end right there and then. I refuse to take away from that experience the pain, the shock and the after shock of such a dramatic episode and instead, I choose to marvel at the abounding providence that somehow saved him from the dark tunnel at the end of which so many claim to be blinded by the light.

On a more personal level, I am truly easing into my older years. I truly am. The nervous energy of my youth that filled me with so much fear and anxiety is turning into acceptance and a laissez-faire attitude. I do not fret so much. I am not consumed by negative thoughts so much. I am learning to accept that I am just another microscopic grain of sand the sun magnanimously shines on one day and the wind heartlessly blows away another. None of it is about me, none of it. Acknowledging that has given me so much spiritual and emotional freedom. I no longer walk with a massive rucksack filled with the whys, how’s and what ifs on my shoulders. If there is a plus to our doomed fate is the fact that each day that goes by and you see the end approaching that much closer, you learn to live with just the essentials and to discard the clutter, the things and people who selfishly fill another rucksack that may drag you down and prevent you from truly living.

Slowly but surely moving forward in the race against time has also thrown a kind of epiphany my way. Whilst the end is certain, we have a say, to a point, in how the journey evolves. Our bodies truly are our temples, and we can, again to a point, control how healthy or how efficiently they work and for how long. Although riddled with body image anxiety for most of my life, I have been extremely lucky to always be thin without any amount of effort. It is just the way I am wired. However, as we all know, being thin does not necessarily mean being healthy. My interactions on twitter have been on the whole a massive source of a confidence boost regarding my appearance, and that alone has motivated me to try and maintain that shape for a few more years yet. When you are young and your body is in its plenitude, we do not need to do much to remain healthy or strong, but once we are on the other side of 40, subtle signs of ageing begin to nudge and wake us up to the fact that although we may have felt invincible at one point, every meteor does eventually fall and burn. That tragic end is what makes the journey across the universe so incredibly meaningful and desperately urgent at the same time. And yet, the only way to draw meaning out of each passing day is to wind ourselves down to a speed that allows us to see it all, hear it all, feel it all, smell it all and taste it all with every fibre of our being. Sadly, not many get to find in their lifetime that elusive magic button that takes them from sixth to first gear or by the time they do, the chance to truly savour the journey has already passed.

I loved running when I was growing up. I was incredibly fast. The boys my age used to get frustrated that I could outrun them, and being so withdrawn because of my body and shyness complexes, that gave me a great advantage and a confidence boost that at least I had something I was better at than most. As the years passed, doing well academically became my number one priority and I put my all into my studies. Sport or any kind of fitness took a very back seat. Suddenly, at 51 all the emotional baggage is beginning to fall off and I feel so much freer and lighter. Freer enough to take up running again, even though I have not done any kind of running for the last 35 years. It is truly lamentable how we put so many limits on ourselves. We get to a point when we stop believing, dreaming, trying. It is incredibly invigorating not so much to be able to run and be in better shape than many women 20 years younger than myself, but to prove to oneself that the sky really is the limit when it comes to overcoming, and that the biggest factor that stops us shining and leaving a blazing trail as we journey through time is simply ourselves.

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When our hearts become impenetrable

On By aconstanttlearnerIn Acceptance, Anxiety, Betrayal, Challenges, adversity, Character, Compassion, Corona Virus, Covid 19, Deception, dehumanization, Depression, Dignity, Disappointment, EGO, Empathy, Fear, friendship, Healing, Herd mentality, honesty, Human nature, humanity, humility, Integrity, introspection, Intuition, life, Loneliness, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mob Mentality, Morals, Narcissism, Negativity, Pain, Philosophy, pride, purpose, Relationships, Selfishness, Social Media, Tribalism, twitter18 Comments

The last few weeks have been nothing short of a psychological study for me on twitter. I did not set out to do one, but psychology found me, swept me up in this whirlwind of human need, and I simply could not just watch it all happen and ignore it.

Throughout this whole process, I have screamed, I have ached and cried inconsolably. I have laughed, felt overjoyed, been loved and rejected all at once within the same day. I have despaired and felt waves of stormy anger and frustration engulf me whole. I have been reminded by well-intended friends that social media is a tricky and ferocious animal to handle; that none of it is real and nothing is what it seems, and yet, this advice came at the hands of those who breathe in social media the moment they wake up and do not stop to exhale its poisonous, dubious air until their head hits that pillow. Any advice is rendered ineffective if those giving it conduct themselves in a way that disproves their own wisdom. Of course Social Media is real; a parallel reality it may be, but a reality nevertheless. Its deceitful, pantomime-like and bordering on sinister dark corners, often remind me of a Venetian Carnival where people hide behind the most alluring and exquisite of masks to reinvent themselves and step beyond the boundaries of what they would never contemplate doing or saying in real life. The mask however does not alter the person behind it, not really. It may appear so for a while, but eventually one can truly see the gaze behind the glamour and the glitter; the cracks seeping out past traumas, deep hurts and weakening fears that though deeply hidden, betray our newly found identity & automatically exclude us from the romanticism and Utopian mirage of the Masquerade Ball.

There is much that remains a mystery to me about human behaviour, but I have been able to draw some conclusions from my interaction with a number of people on twitter. Most of all, I have been able to find truth as we often do, by simply stepping away and like a fly on a wall, watch it all unfold; letting individuals show their true character and betray their own perceived integrity when they thought no one was really paying any attention.

I have learnt that at an age when we have all the gadgets and the gizmos, when we can be on the other side of the world on the same day and social media dominates and dictates the lives of so very many, never has our need to feel included and loved been greater. There is an impossibly achy loneliness abounding in the secret chambers of the virtual world. Society, even pre-Covid, has been bleeding out and failing to live up to its definition, because the social element has been abducted from right under our feet and a poor substitute has made islands of each and everyone of us trying to find ourselves and each other. The most alarming element of this phenomenon is the fact that most of us have loving families around us and a network of friends or support of one kind or another and yet, we are the lost faces in a multitudinous crowd crying out for acknowledgement, begging to be heard and understood. There is a desperate need to matter at a time when circumstances have made us finally acknowledge that in the scale of things, between the now and the beyond, we truly matter very, very little, and so we gasp desperately trying to hold on to some sort of significance. The more we realise we are but a grain of sand on the beach, the more egotistical and self-centered we become; the more we veer towards mob mentality instead of accepting each person on their own merit and essence. And of course, the power of social media is boundless and so trends that dominate on the virtual world, irremediably feed into our daily lives, our homes, and ultimately our surroundings. Before we know it, we are turning our society into the most inhospitable place there ever was; an Eden made into a hell, and it is all of our own making.

I have also learnt that at a time when we have more resources than ever; when we are potentially more powerful than ever; we are the weakest beings we have ever been. We lack backbone and deeply rooted convictions. We would rather be a Judas than a Peter; we need to be all things to all people in order to find worth, instead of remembering that it is our uniqueness and not our tribal ancestry that defines us and sets us aside to pursue our own purpose; to make that small difference that no one else can make. We have become cowards that hide behind the group instead of standing on our own two feet when we see injustice, lies and witch-hunts. Our morality and creed blow whichever way the wind takes them. We are chameleons that change colour depending on who is watching. We take a side in an argument with our words but then our actions discredit the very point we have just made. We are in essence regressing to a herd mentality where the blind is leading the blind; where leadership stems from popularity as opposed to integrity tested in the furnace of adversity and going it alone.

I have learnt, and this is the one that has broken me the most, that there are individuals who are indeed beyond rescue. I had two uncles who committed suicide, but I have always believed that what led them to such an unthinkable tragic end was probably a lack of a supportive network or adverse circumstances. Well, I have encountered on twitter individuals who by their own admission are rotten apples, messed up and broken; they hurt others because they simply do not know how to be any other way; they carry deep scars from the past and open wounds that are beyond healing. They look up to people who are no longer around, and they live their lives through their eyes instead of their own. I have learnt that no matter how much light you see still shining within that person; no matter how clear you see the path that they need to follow, nothing will change until they make a decision themselves to break loose from their ghosts and their demons. I have learnt that being rejected by such individuals is not a reflection of my inability to be loved or accepted by them but rather their dismal failure to love, accept and forgive themselves.

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The oasis needs rain too

On By aconstanttlearnerIn Attraction, Beauty, Butterfly, Disappointment, Empathy, encouragement, Fear, Freedom, friendship, honesty, Human nature, humanity, humility, Oasis, Pain, pride, Self love, Selfishness, Vanity8 Comments

So tired of being the oasis to all people. They take, they take, they take, so relentlessly consumed with their own wanting.  They suck the life out of me one day at a time. Selfish and unaware that the oasis slowly fades and dies too, if the rain does not come to replenish its springs, its foliage, its magic shadows. I am the mirage in the distance that is so appealing. You quench your thirst for a time; the time when you gasped for refreshment, the time when you grieved, the time when you felt unloved and unappreciated; the time when you despised yourself and needed me to remind you of your exquisite reflection.

And yet, no one cares for the oasis, because no one can truly discern or comprehend such beauty, such miraculous splendour in the midst of a barren desert. They find such unfathomable magnetic force intimidating, imposing, sobering but impossibly attractive. They use it and abuse it, because they find its bewitching secrets laborious, and so it is just easier to only scratch its surface, drink the water and gorge over its beauty than it is to dwell deeper and question where the oasis’ radiance emanates from; to figure out what such a unique, valuable presence needs itself in order to retain the freshness and vibrancy that sustains everything within it and around it.

It is human nature to desire the most unattainable of things and yet never strive to do anything in our power to preserve such unique, splendorous life source. And yet, I am tired of justifying human nature, for I am human too but take no one for granted, no one. My calling is to lift others out of their struggle; to enthuse them with life when it is ebbing away from them. Are the givers condemned to blaze like meteors and then be buried in the depths of oblivion? What is the point of their awe-inspiring ephemeral presence if they are instantly forgotten or replaced with the next best attraction?

I am tired of being the butterfly whose dazzling colours men gasp over and wish to penetrate. Why didn’t they care to be around me whilst I was wrestling in my cocoon? Why couldn’t they come alongside me in the midst of the struggle that got me to my quivering flight today? Well, I tell you what makes this butterfly so exquisite and bewitching. Her colours, despite your self-inflicted blindness, are not vanity or the guise she chooses to allure you into admiring her. Her colours are hard won in the battle of humility and self-sacrifice. A silent battle within that only she knows about; a raging fire of unthinkable disappointment followed by self-assertion and endless self-love. The intensity, the depth of her unique colours stem from the furnace endured in her cage.

And now, she is finally free, and she shines; she glows for all to see.

The oasis needs rain too but no one cares to give it. Life is so much more effortless in the sunshine of satisfying our own needs and wants.

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Herd Emancipation

On By aconstanttlearnerIn Authority, Challenges, adversity, Character, Corona Virus, courage, Covid 19, Criticism, Fear, Freedom, Herd Emancipation, Herd Immunity, humanity, Instinct, Intuition, Judgement', Natural Disasters, Pandemics, pride, purpose, Rebellion, Rules, wisdom6 Comments

It is excruciatingly painful to try and feel inspired to write these days. People tell me I am a positive person, but most do not realise that although I am instinctively so, the negative voice in my head never lets up. For every positive thought that my brain labours to produce, the hooded claw bounces it back with a double whammy of negativity, smashing any hope of gaining ground; of turning a mediocre day into a day fully lived.

The truth is COVID-19 has revealed for many of us an uncomfortable truth: what are we without a purpose? Who are we if not clogs in the economy machine? What is the point of us if not to keep producing, to keep consuming insatiably? Nothing seems to make sense unless we are rushed off our feet working, striving, competing, gaining, comparing ourselves to the next person. On the one hand, COVID-19 is giving us enough time to ponder on the fact that many of us are not truly sure of who we are when you take away our social circles, our jobs, our sustenance, our communities, our freedoms. The hours go slowly and uncomfortably as we have too much time to think and realise that maybe half our life has already been wasted busying ourselves with busyness but not really living, not really being, not really participating in the miracle that our life and life all around us is. On the other hand, we agonize as news of thousands of deaths is hitting us daily; we struggle to comprehend the gargantuan effort it takes for so many to simply keep on living, prospering, growing and yet, the strife, the battle can be snatched out of our hands unexpectedly with one swift final breath, in one achingly solitary instant. What was it all for? Did we really live or was it life itself that went in and through us?

This last year has also acted as a filtering process which has set apart those who like to swim with the current and those who have enough discernment and courage to think for themselves and act accordingly. As a result, so has increased the number of people who appoint themselves as judge and jury; often individuals who lack the initiative, the bravery, and the curiosity to stand up and challenge the status quo. Instead, they sit in judgement of those who do, because it is easier to detract the attention from their own ignorance, cowardice and fear and focus it instead on those who break from the herd and follow their own path at all cost. Much has been discussed about ‘Herd Immunity’. Perhaps the real point of contention here should be ‘Herd Emancipation’.

A few years back my family and I were holidaying in St. Vincent, the Caribbean. A huge storm hit our beach resort which was located in a valley by a river leading to the sea. As the sea surged, the riverbanks overflowed and within a short period of time our resort was almost completely flooded. The resort management instructed everyone to head to the emergency meeting point which happened to be one of the restaurants on the edge of the resort right by the beach, not that much higher up than the rest of the resort. At that point, I suggested to my husband that the sensible thing to do was to go higher up. We discussed it as a family and in that instant, we knew our lives were at risk and keeping with the ‘herd’, obeying instruction was not an option for us.

We sought higher ground and managed to climb various floors within the concrete block of flats where the resort staff lived. From the balcony of the flat where one of the members of staff lived who kindly let us in, we watched in shock and horror as rain continued to pour, the river began to burst its banks, and the beach was rapidly being taken over by the sea. Hours later, a member of the management team came looking for us as we were the only residents of the resort unaccounted for. They took us down to the restaurant and we had a very mixed welcome.  Some showed joy and relief when they saw us. They were kind and found us chairs and a blanket to sleep on. Not surprisingly, in stark contrast there were those who frowned and gave us hateful looks for daring to challenge authority and act based on our own judgement. We were being punished for having the audacity to think for ourselves. And so goes the human race.

Whilst we regret enormously having caused concern and worry to those who came looking for us, we will never regret having made that decision in such extreme life-threatening circumstances. As morning came, we saw the devastation caused by the storm and learnt that people had died that night right there in our resort. The restaurant where everyone was gathered was ok, but it could have been very different. They were just incredibly lucky. They could have all been swept away so easily, had the surge been any greater or the storm lasted longer.

That night I went to sleep with a clear conscience. As a parent I took the decision to challenge authority and follow my own judgement and gut instinct to protect myself and my family. If anyone wants to judge us for doing that, it is on them, not me. I would do exactly the same now with hindsight, if a similar situation ever presents itself again. I will do what I have to do to protect myself and those entrusted to me as best as I know how, even if that means breaking from the herd, going against ‘the rules’.

This global pandemic is also pushing people to their limits in more ways than one and it is revealing people’s true character or lack of. Will you be the person that sits in judgement of others’ choices and right to choose or will you be the individual who extends a blanket and tells you they are so glad that you are still alive? I know whom I would rather be and whom I would rather have by my side.