Category: Vanity

Featured

Back to the drawing board

On By aconstanttlearnerIn Acceptance, Character, Confinement, consumerism, courage, Exercise, Fitness, Freedom, Fulfilment, Grief, Healing, honesty, humanity, introspection, Life's Choices, Mental Health, Narcissism, Relationships, self fulfilment, self-discovery, Selfishness, Sex, Social Media, twitter, Uncategorized, Vanity, wisdom5 Comments

It is a miserable Saturday afternoon here in the Southeast of England. It is very wet and dull. Just writing the word miserable fills me with shame. How often we complain about the insignificant things that are hugely significant? We complain about the rhythms of nature that balance out the delicate equation that the environment is. We moan about the rain when rain is the answer to so many people’s desperate prayers. We complain about the sun’s scorching heat when others’ whole livelihoods are solely dependent upon such treasure. So many of us have it all, but blinded by so much stuff and privilege, we fail to see what is missing in our life.

Well, I am turning my sense of entitlement and shallowness on its head. It is thanks to such dire weather that I find myself writing once again after months of an absolute inability to put pen to paper. Whilst I am still grieving my parent’s loss, I am beginning to come through the other side of that tunnel a little bit freer, wiser, and a lot fitter.

There have been two major shifts in my life since my parents passed away. I have started going to the gym and I no longer have any social media accounts or live my life through other people’s social media. I know, you must be thinking: ‘Big deal’. Trust me, it is huge!

Not only had I never set foot in a gym before; I detested gym culture and had zero time for those who bragged, or so I thought, about their exploits at the gym. As far as I was concerned, gyms were stages where statuesque, divinely toned individuals strutted their stuff and got their daily fix of adoration and admiration by like-bodied individuals. I perceived gyms as prisons of the self, as hell holes where egos gorged on further aggrandisement and self-veneration; gutters where altruism, empathy, compassion were thrusted out and vanity, selfishness and narcissism were pumped up; traps where the weak were drawn to in order to be judged disdainfully by the far superior breeds. Everything about gyms shouted addiction, misplaced pride, discrimination, judgement.

During the last two years I have gradually introduced exercise in my life. A like-minded individual I met through twitter encouraged me to do the ‘Couch to 5k’ challenge. It is an online app which guides you step by step to run five miles at the end of a few weeks’ training. This is for absolute beginners, which I was. It was really gruelling work but eventually after having a few breaks and having to re-start the challenge a few times, I persevered and completed it. I went from having my heart in my mouth after just one minute of running, to actually running for half an hour on a fairly steady breath. I went from counting the seconds in every minute wishing for it to be over to being in the zone and embracing the freedom, the release, the joy that results from body and mind being at one with each other.

As with any exercise and specially seeing as I had started at 52, I did suffer an injury and eventually I had to stop running and look for a lower impact exercise routine which gave me the same cardio value but did not destroy my body one impactful stride at a time. I moved onto the cross trainer. That became my new religion. Three times a week I went into my garden shed and did a workout on my cross trainer. I gradually increased the length and the intensity of such workouts. After my parents passed, I simply could not find the motivation to do anything that involved any considerable effort. They were no longer around and so my mojo and my raison d’etre ebbed away with them, so this shift to having the drive to regularly commit to an exercise regime was monumental.

Call it Providence or the stars aligning in my favour, but around that time my daughter had just joined a gym and had been on at me to come along and see for myself how incredibly uplifting and energising her sessions were. My daughter is my guardian angel as I am hers. We get each other. We have each other’s backs. We trust each other completely. Not many people one can say that about in life. Certainly not me. During my workouts on the cross trainer, I often posted pictures of my body on twitter as a witness of my progress and the fitness challenges conquered. Those pictures got a lot of attention and compliments. Sometimes, attention came from the wrong sort who were just out to get their kicks and feed their sexual desires. There were even some devious individuals who went as far as complimenting me about my blog, my writing in order to get close to me; to make sexual advances at me. It beggars belief but that is what social media has turned a lot of people into. It is a free for all. No accountability; no rules; no transparency; no moral compass. What happens behind the screen stays behind the screen. Only, it does not! Social media has become one of the most dangerous tools which when falling on the wrong hands can pulverise a life with one single click of the mouse.

All that attention on social media, most of it unsavoury, made me realise that actually feeling good on the inside more often than not goes hand in hand with looking and feeling good on the outside, at least feeling and looking good according to your own standards. One fine morning I finally decided to go along to the gym with my 25-year-old daughter. We did a SH’BAM class which in hindsight I realise was an incredibly bold move on my part having never even set foot in a gym. I absolutely loved it and decided there and then, I would become a regular member at that gym. A year later I attend classes 3 to 4 days a week and some days I do two classes back-to-back. I have done most things now: Body Attack, Les Mills Grit Strength, Total Body Workout, Free Style Aerobics, Body Jam, Pilates, Body Balance, Body Pump, etc.

Nurturing my mental health through exercise is really working for me right now and has helped me immensely to pull through the grieving process. However, like any other practice or habit that makes us feel so good, fitness can easily become an addiction that prevents us from nurturing other important parts of ourselves like our emotional and spiritual wellbeing. Often, we assume that one goes hand in hand with the other but that is not necessarily so. My current fitness regime takes a lot of time from me and whilst that time is very well invested, I am neglecting other things that make be balanced and happy, my writing for example. I want my fitness regime to propel me to a more well-rounded, more positive me and not to become a shelter that prevents me from actually living. A little bit of chaos, breaking the rules and opening yourself up to the unexpected will always trump a life of perfect order, monotony and letting precious days pass you by.

As for quitting all social media, that is one of the best decisions I have ever made. Creating an environment where we have all normalised ‘making love or war’ with people whom we know nothing about and who know nothing about us is one of the most stupid things the human race has ever produced. All that time and energy wasted on futile attempts to convince ourselves and others that we matter. It is often believed that the next generation is able to correct the mistakes of the previous one and to bring about measures to prevent those same mistakes being made. Social media is not one of them. We have reinvented the wheel, but this wheel is simply not fit for purpose and is in fact destroying our ability to relate to and communicate with other human beings, as we sit alone blinded and in judgement behind screens that act as mirrors reflecting back what we want or need to see or hear.

It has been a while since I last wrote and I am aware that because of it many of my regulars may have given up on me in terms of checking my blog. If you happen to still be here, I would be grateful for any comments that can start a conversation or simply give me feedback. I am grateful for any and all comments. There are also a handful of people I met through social media and through this blog who I’d like to hear from as I miss those specific interactions. Again, if you are there, do drop me a line or two.

Be well, be kind, look after yourself and above all be present, live in the moment.

Featured

A summer baby always craves the light

On By aconstanttlearnerIn Acceptance, Challenges, adversity, Character, courage, Craft, Creative Process, Freedom, Fulfilment, honesty, introspection, Light, Revelation, sailing, Self love, self-discovery, self-fulfillment, The Sea, Thoughts, Vanity, Writing15 Comments

Another invigorating dawn full of promise and light. Verity had battled a premenstrual migraine for two days now and she resisted going out on the boat with her family and the couple who one day, not too far from now, would take over the business. She often succumbed to her partner’s will. She was no pushover though, but rather she was enamoured with her newly found mental tranquility and no one, not even her partner’s all guns blazing attitude was going to come between her and her hard-won new best companion.

Ten knots of wind may not seem much to a seasoned sailor, but she knew better than to put herself through any experience on the water that flooded back into her consciousness the memories of terror on the Adriatic Sea, especially in front of friends whom she was trying to impress with her dexterity in that vast untameable wilderness. Besides, she had now grown accustomed to guaranteed lush days out on the turquoise waters, bronzed skin, toned tum and legs, a vision in a bikini, wine flowing, the feeling of the water lovingly caressing her skin without expecting a reaction from her; the gentle rocking of the boat as she laid on her side admiring other fit bodies whilst being admired. She was the queen of her castle on the waves; she had now learnt to control her presence at sea rather than the sea controlling her, and no one was going to rob her of that place she had earned with sweat, blood and tears, so many tears.

Choosing to stay at home was not easy feat however, as it forced her to face other demons. It had now been two months since she had last sat down to write anything, and this weighed heavily on her mind. She was fully aware that writing, like a muscle, has a memory and the more you do it, the better you get at it, the more seamless the outcome becomes. Verity was loyal to a fault, mainly loyal to her own self. She detested anything that had even the slightest whiff of betrayal or deceitfulness. Her craft was her hidden treasure and like precious stones, no imitation would do. Her gems could only be identified as hers if born out of a purifying fire; a long process of sieving out the impurities until the real beauty of her misunderstood soul emerged for all to see. The long spells of drought in her creativity were for her the honesty she needed to honour and let breathe in order to later on produce anything she deemed worth expressing and more importantly, reading.

Initiating a writing session was for her like opening Pandora’s box or walking into a cave full of mystery and revelation; a cave where one could get lost and be confronted with the scariest of sights or maybe one which let in the sunlight; where one could see themselves reflected on its pools of water and like Narcissus be transfixed by one’s own beauty. Verity had always considered herself to be rather conservative and measured but what most attracted her to the act of writing was its gambling nature; the possibility of coming away from it a richer being or feeling completely robbed of her most guarded secrets. She loved the thrill of it, the unpredictability of it, its edginess; the way it forced her to lose herself in those pages and to explore who she really was in a safe private space away from judgement and expectation.

Featured

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.

Featured

When sex is no longer sexy

On By aconstanttlearnerIn Attraction, Chemistry, consumerism, dehumanization, Dignity, EGO, Freedom, humanity, humility, Instinct, Kindred Spirits, Love, Morals, Relationships, Sex, Sexuality, Sexy, Soul Mates, Spirituality, Vanity18 Comments

I would sure like to have a crystal ball that gives me insight into people’s brains, into our dreams, my dreams. Wouldn’t it save us tons of money on doctors, therapists, and meds if we could understand earlier on in the journey who we are and what makes us tick?

What is it with recurrent dreams? What is the point of rehearsing in our head a chapter of our lives that will forever remain inconclusive no matter how many endings we dream to that old story? It is not like we can change its outcome by our subconscious playing out different scenarios on different nights. And yet, the brain regurgitates that same chain of events over and over. To what end? There has to be a point to so much time of our lives consumed by an alternate reality where things pan out differently to what actually took place; where we are offered a glimmer of hope that those chapters of our lives we resent, do not define us, because there is still a chance to act differently, to explore new choices.

My most recurrent dream is one where I enter into a sexually charged relationship with an ex-boyfriend with whom I never even held hands or kissed. We were extremely attracted to each other. That is what brought us together in the first place. The chemistry was tangible, but we were a couple of very shy and inexperienced youngsters, not ready to handle what would have unfolded, had we let our passions run free. Unfortunately, we lived in different cities during the winter, and so our only form of contact was the occasional meet up and frequent letters, which did not help matters. Eventually, our determination to make it work dimmed and what initially was countless promising sparks between us grew into dynamite threatening to explode with every exchange. Frustrated and heartbroken I broke it off in the end, because I could not bear him flirting with other girls in front of me in an attempt to ignite my desire so I would be the one to take that first step. He went on to meet another older more experienced woman who clearly initiated him into the wonders of sex within a loving committed relationship. Indeed, he married her and lived happily ever after or so I hear. I am not saying sex cannot be fantastic outside a relationship. I am just saying personally, I reach worthier heights when the connection is both spiritual and physical, when the souls as well as the bodies are harmoniously intertwined. Sex for the sake of sex is as exciting to me as drinking water when I am thirsty, frankly. We met up many years later and though we were both married with kids by then, one brief but intense interlocking of our eyes is all it took for me to know he wondered as much as I did what if we had both behaved differently. I deeply believe in spiritual connection and I am no clairvoyant, but I am pretty certain I appear in his dreams as often as he in mine.

That was back in the 80s when sex was still a ‘sacred thing’ a special ritual that happened between people who felt an inexplicable bond, an unstoppable urge to fuse into one; to be one and the same, if only for a few exceptional moments. These days, sex is all around us, is forced upon us; trading in sex has even become a widely accepted profession for so many. It is no longer a case of I resort to prostitution because I cannot make ends meet any other way, because I cannot sustain myself and those dependent on me any other way. Sex sells and it is easy to shop for it and make considerable money from it pretty effortlessly and quickly. Unfortunately though, it is not just pushed on to those who want to consume it or buy it, but forced on us wherever we look, wherever we are. This is particularly apparent in the entertainment industry and social media. It is not longer a question of personal choice but of forcefulness, of manipulating the herd into certain behavioural patterns and morals or lack of; normalizing even amongst our youngest what should be something special and wonderful in its uniqueness.

I missed the ‘sanctity’ that used to go hand in hand with the process of meeting someone and falling in love, or maybe just discovering each other emotionally, intellectually, and physically. Now it is all so void of any romance, any mystery, any longevity, in essence of any meaning. We trade partners like we change socks and values like trust, respect, humility, gentleness, kindness, honesty have all become dinosaurs too frightened to rear their heads in a world moving so fast, consuming it all so fast, even each other, that one wonders what humanity will do next to satisfy its ravenous appetite for indulgence and self satisfaction.

Is there anything sacred any more?
Featured

A case of vanity or self-love?

On By aconstanttlearnerIn Acceptance, Ageing, Anxiety, Beauty, Character, Depression, Dignity, Empathy, Freedom, friendship, Healing, honesty, humility, Integrity, life, Loss, Mental Health, pride, ramblings, thoughts, introspection,, Self love, truth, Vanity20 Comments

When you get to my age you finally learn that whilst certain external agents are necessary, vital at times, to lift us out of anxiety, depression, loss or any other soul-destroying circumstance, in the end the only thing that can rescue us from the darkness is truly ourselves.

If there is one lesson I have tried to teach my kids time and time again is this one, because I know that the biggest battles we fight in our life are always the ones we win within, wrestling with ourselves.

I have fought many of these internal battles over the years. When I was young and easily influenced, I relied on other people’s opinion of me to give me a sense of worth and confidence. As an adult, I learnt that even the closest of friends can one day become enemies and that many people who come into your life dressed as sheep are in fact foe; that there are individuals who come into your life for a season to gain something from you and then move on when they got what they wanted. There are others who also identify themselves as friends and are so for a time, but then just like the wind blows in one direction one moment and then in another the next, they change alliance with the blink of an eye and once again, you get put on the shelf or back in the shadows as they move on to the next fool who cannot see them coming. And then there are the kind of friends who genuinely see the best in you, want the best for you and would drop everything to help you out when you need it. And yet, not even those can save you from yourself.

I have learnt that what I thought was vanity is in many instances self-love. When I was younger, I was judgemental, proud, arrogant. Now I know that we all have our own reasons for behaving the way we do. I am not seeking to justify any particular behaviour. I am simply saying that in the later part of my life I have learnt to respect other people’s space and freedom to do as they please. I guess when I was younger my outlook was limited, full of prejudice and blind spots. Now, at 51 I myself have been driven to tight spots I did not know existed, and I have had to alter my behaviour in order to survive, to move forward; a behaviour that my younger, naïve self would have considered totally inappropriate or undignified perhaps. It’s funny how life teaches us time and time again to never judge a book by its cover, and time and time again we ignore that advice and we fall into judgement and rejection of others based on our own prejudices and narrow-mindedness.

I have learnt that it is not worth giving of myself to those who have no empathy, interest or kindness to open the book of my life and read through the pages of the highs and the lows that have led me to be who I am today, before they pass judgement or give their opinion.

I have learnt that the only opinion I should trust when it comes to who I am and where I am going is my own, because even when given with the best of intentions, others’ counsel or guidance is based on their own convictions and experiences, and so what may suit them, does not necessarily suit me.

I have learnt that whilst friends and family are a really important part of a person’s life, the one constant we need to thrive during our time on earth is self-love. The advice given during the safety briefing on a flight to put on your own life jacket or oxygen mask before helping others is for me one of the essential keys to safe living. Sometimes we can be so caught up in looking after others, trying to help others or gaining direction or seeking validation from others that we forget to listen to what our own judgement and gut instinct is telling us; we forget to extend that lifeline to ourselves and in doing so we spend our life wrestling, perpetuating our predicament of a square peg in a round hole.

Today I am practising self-love or vanity, call it what you will. I don’t really care. It helps me to appreciate who I am and how far I’ve come. It reminds me that I am not who or what others may think of me, but I am the truth I see in the mirror every day, warts and all! I am imperfect, unfinished, scarred, blemished and very flawed, but I am authentic and beat only to my own drum.