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In my last post I referenced being enough. The fallacy that being who you are is good enough is perpetuated by well meaning parents (well some anyway), feel good gurus and a beauty industry that can't make up its mind whether it is selling to normal women or destroying them.

The preoccupation about weight and looks both disturbs and disappoints me. More so now than ever in my life. People are shallow despite whatever intellectual veneer they put on. It is hypocrisy when they themselves cannot claim to any outstanding intellectual or physical superiority.

As I am coming to grips with reality, I get more 'truth' and 'advice' thrown at me. The last thing I ever expected is to be told that I need to go on a diet, that I will have a chance to succeed. That I am SO fat. That I don't qualify as attractive.

Yes it hurts. For one's self to be reduced to a dress size to be worthy. And I don't buy into the faux concern of "its only to be healthy" crap because I don't see anyone asking about my mental health or creatinine levels.

Despite the magazine articles that say girls should have a positive self image, the reality is that if she does not fit a certain size, she would need a gigantic personality to make it up. Or money.

Men can look like Larry King and still marry a Playboy bunny. I am sure they click on an intellectual level.

It is not that I have been ignorant to this truism but what I didn't expect was the people I actually once respected and thought to be above this rubbish are the ones dishing it out.

So it is then. The way the cookie crumbles.

Judging and disdain can go both ways. people forget that beauty wanes, money dries up and youth fades.

I would be waiting. With "advice" ready and blades sharpened.

 

The Forest for the Trees

Lying with my back on the ground, to my left and right, the trees tower so tall. Like redwoods. And the cacophonous wilderness chatter chatter chatter curious, jeering, encouraging, judging.. Or are they sounds echoing in my head.

Like Enid Blyton's Enchanted Forest ..they go Wisha wisha wisha..wish a..?

Wish that I am enough, with my strengths and mostly failings. Yet it appears being human is the one thing that we have to guard ourselves against.

Wish that I can accept things that I can't change. That burying the dead is not so hard.

Wish that courage can be found in facing an uncertain future.

Wish that when the sky fell, the moon and stars didn't all fall in together and bury me further into the dirt.

Wisha wisha wisha

So now that I have to wriggle my toes and climb up again, I don't know which way anymore. All lessons learnt only make me suspicious of the world and people and my own choices.

This week I awoke with a distinct fear that I may not live. It is one thing to contemplate ending one's life, which admittedly is a popular pastime with the morbidly depressed, but to actually face with its actual possibility, it's a different kettle of mackerel altogether. To die on one's terms is presumably preferable to having it imposed on one, which would leave most people quite annoyed and indignant no doubt.

A fear then sets in. Not so much of the end itself but all the things left undone. Suspending Belief for just a second, contemplate the chance that there is no rebirth, kingdom of god, spirit world - assuming just for a little while that THIS is all you have, the fear and regret that time has been squandered in procrastination can be quite moving. Of course I can't speak for everyone. Some are very happy with their mark in life - be it beautiful offspring or sponsoring clean water in Rwanda, legacies and life experiences make time on earth worth something.

My past 10 years have been mostly about existing. Easing myself in a work-life environment where I thought would eventually lead to a house with a picket fence, kids terrorising the dog in the yard, friends over for currypuffs, annual holidays to play snow or ride elephants, you know, a domestic goddess, the hostess with the mostest. No surprises that I am not living like a Weasley but what on earth made me think that I deserve a story book ending. Fairy tales are cruel things to inflict upon the young and not so young.

I thought that by now I would have everything figured out. I just expected things to fall into place magically as they should. The loud buzzer and red lights flash WRONG and just like vaudeville - a long curved cane yanked me off my feet and deposited me right where I am now.

Its humbling to start back from ground zero again when the redwoods loom above. But maybe its my second chance to start again. Alone and afraid, this time a little wiser of the world.

 

 

 

 

Change

The impermanence of sunlight in London.

Unexpected snow in Lao Cai.

Family members age.

Familiar actors die.

Love fades.

The old gets discarded for the new. Any empty wine bottles for sale?

Words of the wise

“God uses broken things. It takes broken soil to produce a crop, broken clouds to give rain, broken grain to give bread, broken bread to give strength. It is the broken alabaster box that gives forth perfume. It is Peter, weeping bitterly, who returns to greater power than ever.”

Life lessons

So ok. I guess we can deduce that I have officially bottomed out, age 36.

Although in all frankness I feel 45. When I do hit 45 i would most likely think this is all rather silly but that's a far away still. It is a sobering thought to wonder if I will even make 45. Touch wood.

"Be who you were 10 years ago" somebody said to me.

Was it bravado or foolishness that set me on my journey across the seas and into time. Oh those were the best years of my life. To be young and not know any better. Bright eyed and bushy tailed. When one did not need the glasses, for everthing was already rose tinted.

Its hard to be idealistic when one then knows better. When the big bad wolves and the psyco axe murderers come for you and pounce when you are not looking. And the rosy hues give in to gun metal grey.

And as a coping mechanism, one stays cocooned in a tiny universe where the predictable is safe. Until of course the gossamer tears and the realities of the world start pouring in. And ones universe implodes with a sudden plop.

It is one thing to be driven by fear in life. Another by regret. I need to purchase a bottle of courage and a vial of recklessness seeing that I have nothing left to lose.

 

Inception Intervention

The dreams are back.

This time I was in a square surrounded by tall buildings. I was with a friend. It was cold as she had a red scarf on. The weather was grey. It was like a movie shot in instagram.

Then in front of me I saw an abandoned building, with countless people standing within its open collums and walless floors. I sensed that they were protesting about something and then there was a loud cheer and everyone made ready to leave. There was one guy in a sky blue bubble jacket. I could see him from afar.

Without warning the centre shaft collapsed and the man in blue together with the crowd around him plunged down as one by one the floors gave way and we all heard the drop down the stories, through the ground into the basement floors .. falling and falling.

Then the buildings around me started to fall apart, bricks falling like dislodged lego crumbling bit by bit then whole facades collaped down into the square. I lost my friend. Then I realised my mother was with me and I lost her too. And my friend's mother.

All around me people screamed and screamed.

I was there, a participant in the spectacle, watching as the world imploded as though its foundation was rocked by an invisible earthquake.

Then just as sudden I realised that I was now, completely alone. With nothing. And the feeling of helplessness, uncertainty and complete horror of not knowing what to do was so crippling. I woke up shaking and unable to crawl out of bed for a good half hour.

If that was just my dream. I cannot fathom the misery of the survivors of typhoon haiyan.

Then I too despaired.

Lonely tree

There’s a loneliness that only exists in one’s mind. The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly - F.Scott in The Great Gatsby

Caterpillar looking to be a Butterfly

Helplessness is when you wake up in the morning and for two seconds, lights filters in and then reality hits and your wretchedness fall on you like a ton of bricks and you are pinned down under the weight of all that is wrong with you. The worse part is that you believe all of it and you deserve it. And you lie there staring at the ceiling going through the motions to reinforce why you deserve to feel like this and yet try to find reasons compelling enough to get round to functioning.

At times this takes 20 minutes, at times a few hours.

At these times, the point is existence is questioned and faith dissipates. And you feel beaten. and weak. Forgotten and derided. When the bad has wiped out every thing good. Which contributes to the vicious cycle. And you know that you will always be alone. Even in a crowd. The one outside looking in, with longing and envy.

When I was chided as a child for not having a backbone, little did I know how close to the truth it was. Perhaps some are born with more gumption. But as water eventually erodes the cliffs, human resolve will whittle away eventually no matter how strong. And mine has been flimsy at most. Still how to regain that which has been lost, especially when what is lost is essentially myself?

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Dreams

Every night, I am visited by dreams. And they are anxious dreams, tiring dreams and very often the most violent ones involve water.

Tsunamis are a common theme. Of being trapped with the tidal waves all round and above me, and I wait in terror for the final crash that never comes. In all, the fear is palpable and they linger even when I open my eyes. I don't think I would be any less scared in a real situation.

Yet recently I dreamt of water again. I was at the edge of a very tall rushing waterfall. The spray rendered everything white. Despite the size, it was all silent. I stood at the edge and I threw myself off the cliff. The one time I have ever dreamt of actually meeting the water. And it was peaceful and intentional. I didn't see myself crash at the bottom, but just disappearing in the mist.

I remember thinking, how nice..