A Poem for Autumn

A Poem for Autumn 

Always the most magic of seasons is she

That begins to wipe clean the earth again.

With air consciously breathed and falling leaves;

It is not death, merely renewal.

Preparation for a period of want.

A cleansing, a harvest, a bonfire blazing.

As a child I sharpened new pencils inhaling their scent,

As the year begun in September as autumn hit 

And it still buzzes like new for me,
In these orange months.

Summer may have rendered us dozy,

Satiated with leisure and loving;
A lackadaisical life.

But September chills our bones and heats our souls,

And we throw ourselves into it again. 
With purpose.

It's a new term after all and we can begin.

Living with the leaves, grasping for their colour,

Just as we shirked from bright brilliance in summer behind shades.

What do you really want?

We harvest and we store.

We frighten at Halloween, the extreme.

And we burn, burn, burn,

And light up our sky for Guy.

Autumn is a pleasure, a warning, a human quest for...

I like things moving is all.

And we keep ourselves busy.

Enthralled. Till fall has finally fallen,

And we are left to live as ice-cold gluttons for one month, 

Eating and drinking and fucking till new year.

After, we disappear from behind our eyes for a while,

Barren land, bodies stooped, curmudgeonly;

Until spring dances her pretty feet across our path.

You Don't Need Your Heart When You're Dead

When I was younger, the concept of organ donation freaked me out when I thought about it, which was rarely. Having been blessed in never knowing anyone that had had a transplant it was not something I'd addressed really; I'd blame youth, but I think I was just me being self absorbed.

And then recently I had to renew my drivers' licence and one of the questions asked by the online form was to please tick the box if you would like to be added to the NHS Organ Donor list. I ticked it and then I thought about it. A lot.

When my card arrived to say I had been successfully added, its accompanying letter asked me to inform my next of kin that I was a card carrier. And so this is me doing this and also sending out a plea.

I am not really sure why organ donation is not opt out to be honest rather than opt in... I don't care what religion you are, most religions - if not all - preach helping others. However, not associating with any fomal religion myself, that is not my argument. Here it is...

We live our lives giving away parts of ourselves every day, some to people who deserve it and some who do not. We give away our hearts to lovers who leave us and those who become their caretakers till the end. We throw away our thoughts and our speech carelessly every day to companies and corporations we work for, or necessarily use these solely human gifts to go about our day to day life. We burn energy from our muscles in exercise and moving about. We hear everything that passes us, without prejudice. In youth these gifts seem unlimited and we do not always choose to use them wisely, perhaps until middle age moves to old age and they falter and we realise that we would like to carefully select - as much as we can - what we utilise them for.

This leads to time, our most precious, most limited resource which we give away everyday, even though we still need it. We give it with joy to people we love and to pursuits we enjoy, we give it with reluctance to perfunctory tasks, with resignation (sometimes) to the grinds of everyday life and careers. Often we give it to the world, to people we don't know, to charities, to good causes, to those in need, to help others even if if we never see the outcome. We often lose it uncontrollably when we are angry or sad or bad. We numb it with alcohol, food, drugs and television. We wish it away, we wait for the weekend, for the summer, for Christmas. CANNOT WAIT TO SEE YOU. When we examine our lives we muse on how to give our time better, to be of more value.

All of this is human and it's wonderful and it's part of what it is to have a human life. But tell me this, why, if you are happy - for the most part - to give away all these things when you still have need of them, are you reluctant to give away your bodily organs etc when you have not?

I hope as everyone does that I do not die young, but if I do, I would like my body to be a free for all for anyone who needs it. Take anything you want. I believe they are unlikely to want my lungs as I have smoked for ten years and even though I am going to give up this year, I still think they are unlikely to be transplant worthy. Other than this I would like to give everything away with no conditions. Obviously I would prefer if they went to "worthy" people, but if my liver is given to an alcoholic (tbf that might be pretty ropey too ;), or my kidneys to an ex-con then that is the way things go. Maybe they will take it and it might make their life so much better and the rest of me can be burnt and spread around the globe.

To be honest, I would just like to finish on you ALL signing up to the organ donation website.... PLEASE

....

The Art of Wasting Time

Dolce Far Niente - John William Waterhouse

I have often thought myself to be a Jack-of-all-Trades, the silent "Master of None", always quite audible to my mind. I was an all rounder at school (except sports which I forgoed as soon as I realised that my lack of co-ordination, read concentration, meant that I would have to work extra hard to be just average.

Since leaving University I have walked through my professional career believing that I am decent at most things I try my hand to, but not especially exceptional at anything. I have since realised that this is perhaps an ingrained mental belief in “not being good enough” that finds safety in hippity hopping between skills and completing them with passable ability rather than stepping out of the safe box and owning brilliance in something or other.

It is a classic trait of insecurity and something I am now trying to rectify. In leaving a traditional, full time, salaried job, I am having to learn to fight against all these learnt instincts. My life and career is now what I make of it and I need to believe I am the best person to do X, Y, Z.

This is especially true in the novel and play that I am writing. For the best friends of Jack-of-all-Trades are Unfinished Projects, Procrastination and the skill of Wasting Time.

The amount of times I have said I wanted to do something whether that be enter a particular writing competition, join a rowing club, a drama club, do the three peaks challenge etc and not completed it are innumerable. Sometimes it has taken me three hours to make a phone call to, for example, the dentist to make an appointment. My talent in time wasting is exemplary.

Shamed by Clutter

Even the word clutter makes me shiver with anxiety. Its onomatopoeic potency - at least to me - is such that I imagine myself being buried alive by piles of paperwork, old fancy dress costumes and chargers for unknown phones or laptops that I am just too scared to throw away.

The thing is - as you may realise - I actually don't like clutter, but for some reason in the last three years I have let the stuff accumulate. And in the last few months before I quit my job, it was so bad there were just some drawers I wouldn't dare open.

This past week, I have been spending a lot of "freelance time" sorting, throwing away, tidying, cleaning. I have discovered a cacophony of obscure objects that bring back memories, but crowd my space. Three Union Jack flags from the Jubilee, two fancy dress soldiers' hats, three sets of Christmas lights, mail belonging to housemates that lived with me three years ago, health drinks that went off in 2013. Parking tickets and solitary placemats, candles with no wick and calendars well past their dates. Numerous bits of electricals and nails and scraps of paper, crusty nail varnishes, men's scarves, a book on the Karma Sutra that I definitely didn't buy...

The thing is, I'm trying to clear my head - to clear my vision. Working from home and trying to write a novel as well as searching for commercial work, I need an inspiring environment. And all this chattering clutter is not helping. Objects remind you of times gone by, of feelings gone by, they shame me with the person I have been sometimes. I don't need them here... haunting me, taunting me. I'm detoxing my life... and most of it has got to go.

So that's why I haven't written for a while... I've been in the midst of clutter Cold Turkey and it's killed my voice for a bit. But I feel it's back, stronger and more sure of itself now. 12 steps of freedom.

xx

Search Party

 

Search Party

I think you're lost little darling,
Your soul has wandered off.
The blank stares,
No trivial cares,
Quiet and then the rage
That sits within you sometimes -
Ignore the rhymes.
What I'm trying to say is that I'm here,
To listen to your woes, dispel your imaginary foes.
There is something in you that calls out to me,
I just want to soothe you until you see
How fucking unique -
A fascinating freak
You are.
Because what you have done and achieved,
You helped others breathe
And created a space where people felt worthy.
To me, you are magic
Your story isn't tragic.
Stop making it so.
The most complicated, mixed-up minds in life
The ones that create and help the most
Are often left sobbing when they're not playing host,
But you can choose a different way.
Cliches say,
Live day-to-day.
Choose joy instead of self-flagellation;
Pass by that station.
Put your shoes on and step out today,
(No need to make hay)
Don't absorb the world's troubles.
Think about glitter and bubbles,
Feather boas and plasticine,
Other things that make one scream
With joy at the nonsensical silliness of it all.
And if that doesn't work my friend,
You can depend
On the many that love you.
Who would sit and count sheep
Or listen to music on repeat
Or talk and talk and talk and talk
Until the planes begin to fly again.
I am one of those my darling, you know it too.
I would spend my lifetime helping you find your soul.
I would paint pictures of joyful things,
Write you stories, buy you beautiful gifts.
I would stay up all night Googling happy news for you to read
Give a speech on your qualities, whether you agreed -
Or not.
Your magic, your kindness, that limitless smile.
Your souls is not lost,
It has only gone away for a while.

On Going With Your Gut

Have you ever had that feeling in your stomach, an automatic reaction to a person, a situation, a problem, an idea - sometimes before you are even in the moment of making a decision on it? I'm not talking about the brain-led voice of your ego that constantly chatters away to you, I'm not comfortable, I won't succeed, this won't be good for me, I want people to like me therefore I'll avoid this....

Dedicated to the Ones Who Know Us Best

If you've got them you know, you know who they are. Without question. They're the ones that sense when something's wrong and call even if they're 100 miles away. Who let you borrow their shoes, even if you stretch them. They send you links of stuff they'd think you'd like and buy you silly cheap presents that are memories of a long-forgotten holiday. They think you're sparkling, so much so that you wonder where you'll find a lover who will reflect back such a magnificent picture. They know your drink order.

They'll talk to you about the same problem you've had for ten years with patience, but they'll call you on your bullshit too. You can spend hours with them in silence, and their parents have your mobile number. They'd happily invite you along on their date nights and vice versa.

You've enjoyed many a kitchen disco.

If you called them at 3am and they picked up, you know they'd help you with whatever you needed. They remember what you were like at 14, 16, 18, 21 and know that you still carry some of that uncomfortable adolescent in you, beneath the banter and blow dry.

They know your type from a mile off and steer you away if he's ill-advised.

If they wanted to they could say things that would pierce your deepest insecurities. But they never would, even during the most heated row.

You've laughed with them for thousands of hours of your life.

Travelled across the globe with them.

Know where the chocolate is kept at their parents house.

Sometimes when you're wtith them you feel s heated glow that tickles your spine, like you've drunk a bottle of wine. It's comfort and giggles and overwhelming emotion all at the same time.

Sometimes you want to smack them or tell them, to shut. the fuck. up. And you let them know. Sometimes you miss not seeing them EVERY SINGLE DAY, like at school.

The best foundations of your adult self.

Ok, I'm Ready...

I think I'm ready now, finally. I have never really been before, but I think I am now because I know what I want and what I don't want. I've made those distinctions.

I've spend time having loveless flirtation and sensual (and not so sensual encounters). I've dated and dismissed many a man (and boy). I've had a few short "relationships". Mostly I've been afraid of it, to be honest, afraid of what somebody else would do to me. 

Maybe it's because I wasn't really sure about myself, whether I like myself all that much, whether I was who I was meant to be. The thought of blind and internet (sorry app- what is this the 00s) dating just sent me into a spin of fear and insecurity that they might reflect back at me the flaws I had already outlined in myself.

I was never one of those people who dated to fill a hole or to feel more secure and steady in a situation, because for me, putting yourself into that vulnerable position of being half of two rather than half of one was not something that settled me. In fact it sent me careering off into outer space, heart thumping head-spinning, ecstatic then anxious, crying with laughter, then just crying. I didn't want this. I wanted a steady ground.

I am ready now, because I've realised what I want and that steadiness often comes from within. I'm ready now because I am happier with who I am.

So if you know anyone...

Kind but not weak. Compassionate, likes animals and nature. Reads, please. Interested in all ideas even if they don't agree with them. Doesn't talk over people who are quieter than them. Respect's people of all ages, sexes, colours, nationalities, backgrounds, creeds, educated or not. Realises we are all the same, WE ARE ALL THE SAME. Can take (and make) a joke. Does not practice bitterness. Loves to laugh, to make others laugh, the moment of laughter. Wants fun in life. Responsible, but not anal. Understands me, lets me be me, even if that is odd. Intelligent, not necessarily academically or bookish, but bright, sparky, interested. Likes talking and listening. Likes long conversations about the world and what it means... but can tug me in and make me feel safe too if I drift off into the stratosphere. Healthy attitude towards mind, body and soul. Appreciates and indulges in the sensual pleasures of life, but does not gorge on them. Smiles at people even if it makes them look stupid. Tactile. Reassuring. Shares their problems. Lets me look after them sometimes. Not scared of their feelings. Quiet, but also loud. Trustworthy and trusting. Has passions and interests. Would be a good father. I want to find him beautiful, but that doesn't mean anyone else needs to. Makes my friends smile and feel warm inside. Interested in my family. Open-minded. Likes the sea and the mountains and travelling. As flawed as humans are. Never thinks he knows it all.

Do you know anyone like that? I don't yet and this list may seem unrealisitc. But I have no stipulations for money or looks or background or anything else. None of that, just these things.

I'm just putting that out there.

#The100DayProject, #100DaysofWriting, #Day12.

Walking

Walking is my thing.

It's the thing that I do when I want to think, when I have problems or worries that I just can't solve. It's almost meditational to me... because generally whatever I''m struggling with works around and around in my head and some sort of solution is thrust forward.

My father takes a long bath whenever he is fussing over a conundrum, I walk.

Walking also helps me to really feel in the moment. To feel small and insignificant and to watch the world work around me, it reminds me that I'm not at the centre of it. The familiar buzz of humanity through towns; the shouting, laughter, irritation seeps through. It earths me. The rolling hills and trees do the same.

It's something about the nature of the rhythm of footsteps perhaps, perhaps they move unknowingly to the beat of your heart, to your breath and make you feel grounded and restful.

I don't know, all I do know is that it soothes me. And I can do it anywhere.

Whatever your soothing ritual is, or however you problem solve, be sure to include it in your daily routine. It is good for your soul, don't you know.

Attempting Adulthood

 

Today's post (a day late, soz) is a poem about Attempting Adulthood and how in your late twenties, everyone is at very different stages... I hope you like it. Please comment, share etc x

Attempting Adulthood

Don't wish your life away,
They say.
Don't wait for weekends and wine.
Be happy and balanced and like life all the time.
Go into Monday meetings with grace and a smile,
Lack of caffeine is not a reason to be hostile.
Make sure you exercise at least three times a week, but don't worry about your weight.
Squat, lunge, downward dog and eat a healthy diet, a colourful plate.
Read all sorts of books to nurture your mind.
Keep up with politics and documentaries. Be kind.
Do some charity work, perhaps.
Don't collapse.
Socialise, see art and plays and watch the news,
Don't overdo the booze.
If you're single,
You must mingle .
On Tinder and Happen and Hinge, Oh My.
You'll certainly find the girl or guy.
If you're not, then keep up with your mates
Inbetween the convos on mortgage rates.
What's your five year plan?
You've lost your tan.
She's lost her phone again, she's gone a bit wild;
Her ex is in Singapore having someone's love-child.
I can't really afford to go out tonight;
They exchange in the next fortnight.
I'm thinking of sacking it all in to go travelling
My life is unravelling...
You're still young-ish... well not old yet
Too old for drugs and student debt.
Tick-tock,
Biological clock.
I'm bored of the city, but I like the culture and food at 3am
When do you ever use them?
I have a cleaner but shop at Asda and Primark.
I won't queue for clubs anymore, but I'm still scared of the dark.
Nothing's solved with drink, aimless spending or a late-night screw.
As the cliche says, just do what's right for you.
**

#The100DayProject #100DaysofWriting, Day 10

Gratitude Today

Today I do not feel inspired to write at all. I have flicked through The Writer’s Block and nothing is jumping out at me and I have even delved into the depths of my computer hard drive and opened unfinished pieces of writing from the last 10 years... None of it has piqued my inspiration.

And so today I'm writing a gratitude list. Every book I have ever read about life or how to live it better suggests doing this daily and a grateful heart is a powerful thing, as I previously mentioned in another post for The 100 Day Project.

My Gratitude Today

I am grateful for my parents, who have supported me in everything I have ever wanted to do. Who know when to question me, when to soothe me and when to leave me alone. I am especially grateful for the conversations we have now I am an adult; I cherish those conversations and sometimes feel joy to the point of tears whilst having them.

And my siblings who are the only people that shared my upbringing and who have all taught me different things about being human. My quiet, kind, elder-younger sister, who has the patience of a saint and the stubborn nature of an ass. Who has stood by me and looked after me when I’ve got myself into stupid situations, always willing to help and never needing the limelight.

And my middle younger sister who was born “special” and has taught everyone around her so much. She has made me feel at my most angry and upset and embarrassed and ashamed over the years, but I am grateful for it all. Now she has inspired a novel, the writing of which is taking me on a personal journey.

My little brother is at his best one of the most charismatic people I know. He is brave and thoughtful and brash and funny. We could talk for hours even though sometimes our differences in opinion cause me to have to physically walk away from a conversation.

I am grateful for my peer-group friends, old and newer. Mostly women, but some men who have seen every side of me and loved it. Laughter to the point that I have lost control of my bladder, long conversations, short conversations, introspective conversations, sad conversations. Tears, some that are so good. Soul-buzzing sunny holidays and long car journeys and rainy days in the pub, where I don't stop smiling. Arguments and shouting on occasion which can sometimes feel even better because they make you realise how well you know each other and the sunshine after a storm is even better.  The ones that ask for my advice because they really want it and I give it to them from my heart with no ego involved. I love that they make me feel so comfortable that I do this.

And hundreds of other older friends and family friends and relatives, all who give me something. Many who I could talk to for hours.

I am grateful for books, that I am lucky enough to be able to read them. I am grateful for the things they have taught me and continue to teach me and that they will always be my solace.

I am grateful that I have a body that works and is healthy, even though I don’t think it is perfect. I am also thankful that I have recently discovered yoga, as I believe this has changed my attitude towards my body.

I am grateful for the many places I have visited. For sunshine, for mountains, for green. For the power of natural beauty and the secrets and history of cities. I am grateful for the places I have lived, for London, for Surrey, New York, Hong Kong, Canada and Newcastle. Also for the places I have not yet been which keep me enthralled with the world.

I am grateful for the sensory pleasures in life that I am lucky enough to be able to experience every day. The taste of good food, the warmth of wine, bed, flowers, candles, baths, music... all the music.

I am grateful to all the relationships and lovers I have had, for they have all taught me something, even if it is what I don’t want.

I am grateful to be discovering spirituality and my beliefs.

I am so thankful for my house and my comfortable living situation. I love the beautiful things in it.

I am grateful for theatre and art and all forms of other people’s expressions and observations of the world.

I am grateful that I loved school.

I am grateful that I can choose what to do with my day.

I am grateful that I do not live in an environment of fear or a country where I have no voice.

I am thankful for social media and online communities, because they show me even more of the world and introduce me to wonderfully creative people.

I am grateful that I can write this...

And many more things.

Confirmation Bias Against Yourself?

I was reading the other day about a tendency in law, politics and science to "search for, interpret, or recall information in a way that confirms one's beliefs or hypotheses." It is called "Confirmation Bias, or Myside Bias" and it can be very damaging in legal cases and international decisions. Science Daily outlines how "decision makers have been shown to actively seek out and assign more weight to evidence that confirms their hypothesis, and ignore or underweigh evidence that could disconfirm their hypothesis."2

But what if we also do this to ourselves, how damaging can that be? 

I am talking about this in reference to people who are apt to self-criticism, depression, jealousy and insecurity, not to those - who in the opposite way- may seem to have overinflated egos. 

For, if we already walk about this earth with a certain set of beliefs, surely there is a propensity to reconfirm these to ourselves daily, every time something happens or someone speaks to us. And might this mean we become our own jailers.

Kindness, Growth and a Grateful Heart

The 100 Day Project, Day 3 of 100 Days of Writing... Today, I am writing in response to Laura Jane Williams’ Ask the Question project, which I subscribe to. Laura is the brilliant blogger of Superlatively Rude and all-round fabulous human being and today after regaling a personal anecdote she asked the question: Who do you need to look at with different eyes, just for a moment? What would it do for you to admit that maybe it’s YOU who has been unkind? 

Kindness, Growth and a Grateful Heart

I used to be a different type of person you see, a very different type of person and the journey from who I was to who I am now has taken several years, a lot of self assessment and reading hundreds of books. As a teenager and young adult, I was quite an angry, little (secretly introverted, but outwardly brash) hot mess. I was not very confident at all from adolescence, but I defended and concealed this with cynicism, sarcasm and often a hate of, or superiority towards those who may have (unintentionally) inflamed my numerous insecurities.

Basically, I liked to blame other people for stuff. Either they were a bitch or a dick or too stupid to understand or they made me feel like this or like that. It wasn’t that I didn’t blame myself for my shortcomings, oh I certainly did that in crippling detail... but I found that criticism of others came easily too. I never felt comfortable with it, not really, but somehow if others were also at fault, it felt easier to deal with my own self-assassination.

Now because this post is not meant to be a whining tale of my angsty years... I will move straight on to what I have learnt that has changed both how I look at others and myself. First though, it is pertinent to say that it did not make me happy AT ALL. The more that I criticised or looked down at others, the more imperfection I found in myself... far from ignoring the plank in my own eye, I built it with the sawdust that I saw in everybody else’s until it was disproportionately huge. And I came to the point where I wondered why I spent so much time comparing myself to others or reacting to them so strongly. 

The two words that changed everything, Kindness and Growth (some may use lesson or education but I feel growth is more positive). Simply put, to move forward and to get somewhere with our lives, hopes, dreams, relationships etc etc, we need to treat ourselves with kindness and grace. We need to accept our weaknesses, nurture them into positives and not berate ourselves constantly. In turn, once we accept our own faults, we are also more able to look kindly upon others; we can see their whole selves and not just the parts of them that seem to provoke vehement, emotional reactions in us.

The second point is growth, because once we are kind enough to our self and to others, we are able to look objectively our flaws and theirs, we can accept that perhaps they are there to teach us something and can try and work out what that is. For example, I have always loved a glass of wine, but in more emotional times of my life, I have often drunk too much to drown out thoughts or to try and enjoy myself in a situation I am uncomfortable in. I used to berate my excess and lack of control, now I have learnt that if I feel uncomfortable, I need to face that situation if it is important, or remove myself from it if it is only damaging.  It is the same with other people’s flaws; I have felt irritated at colleagues by the way that they have done things, which in turn made me frustrated. Only after careful thought did I realise that perhaps I was just uncomfortable in the work I was doing, my irritation at their personality was simply an extension of how I was feeling trapped in a situation.

I don’t know if I have explained this concisely at all, in fact it is probably far too verbose and I don’t claim to not find other people irksome at all, ever, far from it. It’s not a cure this way of thinking, but a practice for living that enables you to take a step back and regroup when you need to. When I find myself reacting to anyone or criticising myself now, I stop and think be kind, learn and grow and always have a grateful heart. I also try to think about where that other person is coming from in order to respond if necessary in the calmest, truest way. If you do these things you are never far from the soul of your true self and generally - I have found - the happier you will be.

*Thanks to Laura for provoking this piece... you’re aces...

Lost

I have decided after a dreamy ten day holiday to take part in the #100DayProject. There are various versions of this across the web and Facebook, but the general premise is a promise to do one thing everyday for one hundred days. I have decided to write. As a "writer" this may seem an odd thing to choose but I am in dire need of a writing habit that is not at the mercy of my creative spirit. I think comitting to this project will FORCE me to write something every day, however rubbish it is. For added help I will be using The Writer's Block by Jason Reuklak for those times when my head is empty.

I will be posting everything that is written here, so prepare to see A LOT more of me... and apologies if sometimes it isn't the most insightful prose.

Today my challenge was "Describe Your First Brush With Danger". This turned into a much deeper piece than I was expecting, but ain't that the way it goes. Anyway here it is. Day 1.

Lost

Being physically lost as a child is perhaps the most frightening thing in the world. Your heart beats quickly, the world seems huge, familiar paths and areas that you walk with your loved ones everyday suddenly transform into sprawling jungles filled with monsters around every corner. You jump, you jump as anyone approaches you as you have been told not to talk to strangers... you don’t know who to trust as your mother usually vets people for you. You tend to think more attractive people might be nicer to you, or kindly old ladies, but still, you are good and heed your mother’s words. Don’t move, don’t talk to strangers.

After walking around the small vicinity of the area in which you first found yourself lost, eyes desperately trying to make out a familiar figure, a red coat, the pitch of voice that calls you home, you sit down and you cry and this seems like the end of the world. This, the first danger you have ever felt, real true danger. Even as you remember the nightmares you have had in your bed, when your mother or father has come running, you scoff and become more tearful. When you had monsters in your head at night, you knew that they were always there to reassure you that these were just dreams and after hours of softly stroking your back and whispering calming words in your ears you believe them, safe in your home. Safe with your people.

But now they are nowhere to be seen. Everyone around you is a strange blank face and they all seem so large. Your mind flits between panic about how badly you will be reprimanded when they finally do find you and even more hysterical panic that they never will. You cry all the tears you have, until you know it is useless and then you sit forlornly on the ground waiting. You wonder what will happen to you now. Will you die soon or will one of those strange people kidnap you and take you away forever. You know not where, but you have heard such things.

Then she appears, an angel on the horizon that you almost don’t believe is walking, no running towards you. And she is crying. And you find yourself being enveloped in the familiar smell of cigarettes and perfume. The fear tension pours out of your body and the relief brings more tears. You are found.

**

Being mentally or emotionally lost as an adult is perhaps the most frightening thing in the world. Your heart in turn beats quickly and irrationally and then slowly and dully. The world seems huge and tiny at the same time, familiar streets and trains of thought seem both terrifying and full of monsters and that mind-numbing type of monotonous that is so alarming that it often makes you feel physically sick. You fear approach in this loss too, physical approach as this feeling of loss has turned you into a shell-less tortoise, a mole in the sunlight, shirking, blinking... diving for solitude. And also mental and emotional approach, because as fearsome as this loss is you are comfortable in it for now and anything or anyone that might try to tug you from it is highly suspicious and intrusive. Don’t move, don’t talk to strangers.

After walking around this small vicinity of your brain that your loss is comfortable with, you recognise all the familiar figures. They are all you or versions of you that you have allowed or other people that you have allowed, who echo back at you this version of yourself that you have approved. But these familiar figures don’t comfort you, they make you angry because they are why you are lost. This is the first danger, you have felt, the first real true danger, but this time you do not scoff at your nightmares, because they are part of your daytime. And your mind has given so much power to them that they have wrapped around your thoughts. And it is much harder to reassure yourself.

Your real people, your good people are everywhere to be seen. They are in photographs and in phone conversations, they are beside you every day, they are reassuring you, they are laughing with you, they are there. Yet, you are still lost. Even in the sea of familiar faces. You do worry about reprimand, because you are now an adult and adults are not meant to be lost, but it is ok because no one will know. You sometimes cry and sit on the ground forlornly. You do not worry about people kidnapping you... you think that might be a welcome break. You do worry that you have already kidnapped yourself. You know not where, but you have heard such things.

Then she appears, no angel at all, flawed in many ways, but she is familiar. Get up, she says, get up... we do know the way. We are not really lost are we? We have taken ourselves here and so we can get back. She is not crying, she is smiling and she is strong. I’m sorry, she says, I went away for a while, but you always knew I was here. Why are you not moving? Why have you not talked to some strangers? You are not a child. There is that familiar bossy yet placating tone and your fear is beginning to ease. It might take a while you realise, but you do know the way. You knew the way all the time really. Didn’t you. She did, she’s you. You are found.

Leading Our Own Life

Soooo... I've been a little quiet lately because I've been figuring my shit out, to put it bluntly. You might remember in a post I wrote about reading the signs that life was battering me a bit - or really I was battering myself. The thing is that I was working in a job for some great people, had been there for four years and I just wasn't feeling any joy from it any more, you know. It was becoming something that I had to get through every day and instead of waking up and thinking what can I achieve today I was letting the fear of change and failure crush me, standing still and curled up, feeling lower and lower.

I was preaching all this stuff on Instagram and in my blog posts about how to live your life but I wasn't doing it. I half-heartedly looked at other positions, but I knew it wasn't what I wanted. I didn't want to work for someone else doing the same thing. That wasn't why I was unhappy, it was because I wasn't using my best qualities. I was living a life governed by what I thought I should and it was destroying me.

Dear Women

A few weeks ago, on International Women's Day, I had another mild disagreement with a friend about feminism, where I had to cave and bite my tongue for fear of launching into an angry shouty, tirade which would defeat my purpose entirely. 

I thought you see, as I think every day that we'd moved forward, that at least middle-class, educated women living a cushy life in the UK's capital would understand that they couldn't not be feminist. Or that I couldn't understand how they could live in our world and not be one. 

I understand that the word has still held onto some bad branding, perhaps I should talk about being egalitarian instead... But to me it is not about everybody being equal, it is about having equal social, political and economic rights - all of us. For we are not all equal, as Osho said, nobody is superior, nobody is inferior, we are each unique and incomparable, and wonderful because of it. 

But if you are a woman who identifies as "not a feminist", it surely means you support the view that men as a collective are better and more valuable than you. Deserve more. Can dictate and control our entire sex. How can you think that? How can anyone man or woman, think that? Why is anyone superior?

So I decided to write a letter to every woman to illustrate what I want for them, for us, for men. After you've read it, please tell me that you still don't need feminism. 

Dear Women,

How are you, you marvellous creators you?

I wanted to tell you a few things that I really want for you, maybe you could tell me if you want them too...

I wish that you will not always be judged by your looks as if that is all you have to give. I also hope that you will be able to wear what you would like with no backlash or judgement. Wear make up or don't, whatever makes you feel your best. Men too.

I want you to be able to walk on your cities streets on your own without feeling ashamed, embarrassed or fearful. I don't want you to suffer rape or sexual abuse because you are a woman and others feel they are entitled to your body.

I want governments and economies to support you, to realise that you have as much to give as a man and to show this through wage and economic equality.

I want you to be able to vote if you want to, to decide things about the country you live in. 

I want you to concentrate on being mothers if you want to and raise your sons and daughters just the same.

Or be sports stars if you want to, write books, run countries or sew and bake if that's your thing. 

I pray that you have choice. I hope that you can do one thing or everything you want.