The light of women

Spring is coming. It started last night, I think, with my five rhythms dance class. My friend told me she thought that I would 'get it' - and I did.

We arrived to a dimly lit church that seemed empty and rather scary - organ music playing softly. Slowly, one by one, the rich red carpet filled with women's bodies, stretching, relaxing and twisting. After a half hour or so, a little encouragement from the leader to start standing up and a sprinkle of nervousness (me peeking with one open eye at the other women around), I was twirling and whirling my way around a beautiful old church in South London. These beautiful women, each dancing to her own beat, filled the vast space with happiness (and a whole array of other emotions) - I don't think I've ever seen so many shining smiling faces in one space. After about an hour and a half, we finished - exhausted, sweaty and meditationally zenned-out - by sitting in a large circle, perhaps 70 of us all holding hands, with a candle in the centre. I felt absolute balance.

To acknowledge the arrival of spring, I retrieved spring clothes from storage this morning. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, this part of the world is warming up. Tonight it's the full moon and we're cycling to a nice part of town to take some photos, if we can, to capture her brightness and fullness.

Light comes in many forms and many shades.

A bit of peace

I’m sitting in the heart of Old Street outside a café on Great Eastern Street, amidst the traffic and the noise, and I feel a sense of delicious warmth and peace. The warmth is not surprising as the sun is shining and I’m basically sitting in a little oven, with concrete all around and my table and chair made of silvery metal. The peace does surprise me. The noise was unbearable when I got here, but as I’ve been sitting and letting my muscles relax, the sounds have receded into a background hum, with the occasional aeroplane somehow softening the already soothing buzz of the main road right next to me.

I ate a salad composed of leaves, olives, sundried tomatoes, chicken, avocado, roasted aubergine, roasted courgette and roasted pepper.

“Do you have soya milk?” The crucial question. If he’d said “No”, I’d have gone to the next café – a chain that pretty much only serves wheat and butter in various formats, but they do have soya milk.

Thankfully he said, “Yes.”

“Okay, I’d like a salad please.” I said. “What salads do you serve?”

 “Base salad, plus anything you want.”

“Anything I want?” I sounded incredulous, because I was. I didn’t think to ask the price at this point, but thankfully I didn’t have to sell my mother for this salad. It was reasonably priced.

“Yes,” he smiled at me. “Anything you want.”

Why didn’t I ask for more? Simple answer – because what I asked for was exactly what I wanted and it turned out to be the absolute most delicious salad I’ve eaten in a long time. To the accompaniment of traffic and scorching reflected sunshine.

He assumed I wanted a soya latte. Do I look like a soya latte kind of girl, I wonder? I guess I must do. “No. A tea with soya milk please.”

My tea is now cold but I love having a mug of tea next to me as I type. When my friend arrives, I might buy another. It’s delicious. Truly my English upbringing coming out.

And my English upbringing was also deeply satisfied when the horses trotted past me, admittedly slightly frothing at the mouth, which put me off my food temporarily, but once the last fleck of froth had passed me by, all I could see was their beautiful sleek shiny hides, and their powerful healthy muscles.

I could almost imagine I’m in the countryside and this, I guess, is where my deep sense of peace comes from. It couldn’t come from being in London, surely.

A family of salmons

Always swimming upstream, going against the grain, not fitting in. Is this everyone? Is it because we're all actually different and therefore never feel as if we fit in unless we focus on the similarities? Is fitting in a focus, rather than a reality? It is self-perception before it is other perception?

The monster: message for men

Guys, imagine, if you will, a tiny little monster who is very strong, who has his sharp little teeth firmly clamped on your whatsits. For the fun of it, this little monster will endeavour to do some twists, turns, somersaults and jumps (while still clamped on). He will do this for maybe half an hour at a time and when the pain finally subsides, he bites again and has a good old acrobatic session again. This usually last a good few hours, sometimes a whole day, and you know he'll be back every month.

Somehow, this little monster seems to eat into your brain at the same time, taking control of your mouth so it feels full of marbles and you can't quite talk, and scrambling the messages coming into your brain so you have no idea what anyone is trying to tell you. Additionally, he'll have done something to your kinesthetic sensors and you'll start dropping things and walking into things, thus causing more pain through bruises and bumps.

You'll also randomly, though not really very surprisingly, feel like everyone is attacking you and you'll get very grumpy and sensitive.

This is what happens to women every month.

Warning signs: two or more of the following - frequent and baffling tears, grumpiness (more so than usual), a sense that you are sleeping next to a radiator, higher hit rate than usual for breakages, seeing more bruises than normal on your beloved, complaints of lower back pain/tummy pain/boob pain/headaches/migraine, heightened sensory sensitivity including complaints that you're smellier/scratchier etc than usual, seemingly irrational criticism (in higher quantities than normal), greater demand for hugs and attention than normal, greater unhappiness with everything.

Advice: be very gentle, kind and sensitive. Admit that everything is your fault (though you may have the opportunity to retract this the following day if you have a fairly reasonable girlfriend/wife). Be extra helpful and offer to do anything at all (former advice applies here too). Hot hands on belly is good. Massage is great if your beautiful-one gets backache or headache or any other associated ache. Feeding us and making cups of tea is good. Doing the washing up voluntarily is good (not just promising to do it). Having absolutely no expectations on us to do anything at all is also good. Recognising that we have effectively been possessed by a monster (but absolutely not voicing this) and not blaming us or shouting at us during this time is also essential. Also be aware that the sense of smell may be heightened, so take a little extra time washing. Finally, be aware that all of the above may go totally unappreciated, but if you don't do it, the monster may be personified in your beloved and attack you.

The toothpaste tube

It has now been definitely proved to me that I squeeze toothpaste tubes at the top. I spent about 10 years of house sharing believing it to be other (very bad) people who were squeezing my toothpaste tube. Next time you hear yourself saying (hopefully in your head) "It wasn't me, I'd never do that", think again and think about the fact that maybe actually it was you after all. It's impossible to remember not-doing something, but it's definitely possible to not remember doing something, even for people with incredible memories such as myself. [blush]

The plateau

Interesting. I'd assumed that if I'm not sliding down, I'd be climbing up, but it appears that I have found a plateau. It's not a dull level, but more of a pleasant area of nice easy flatland that is verdant and rich. It feels relatively high up, but not at the peak. I like it here. All ready to do a yoga set - decided to stay in and do yoga rather than head to the gym. Later I shall investigate a local Buddhist centre, to see if it's a good place to meditate, then walk into town to meet a friend. I'm going to make today an easy and pleasant one. :-)

Refusal

I've decided. I refuse to go down. I prefer to go up. I am turning around as I type. Decision made.

The mountain

So the lowness has taken me. It used to happen every January and February when my mood would slide down a slippery mountain, until spring arrived. The winters that were partially spent somewhere hot and sunny would be fine too, a kind of elongated early-onset spring that would prevent the slide. I've been working hard the last few weeks, with work, a five-day residential, a weekend of moving house, and so my SAD lamp seemed unimportant, taking valuable time that I felt I should be putting towards unpacking, college work, or something else that seemed equally urgent. Then I started sliding and it reminded me how absolutely essential my lamp is to me, at least in winter, as well as exercise, meditation, laughter, love and distraction. London was great for distraction. Always something to take my mind off the lowness. I pray for the sunshine. I don't think most people quite get exactly how much better the sunshine makes me feel. It shines life into the darkest corners of my mind and brings me clarity and energy.

Anyway, I've spent the day writing - thought I might as well make use of my mood to write the section where my main character is depressed and starts to hallucinate. All moods can be used, as a writer. At least there's that bonus - there is a use for my lowness. Once I'd done as much as I could stomach, I decided to face the world, so I went out and I bought soil and lime green plant pots to go with the bright yellow lounge. Colour is good. On the way home I bought a Big Issue and gave the guy some extra cash in case he feels like I do. I've now re-potted my lovely plants and positioned them in places that I think/hope will help them to grow. I've sorted out the electrics and my lava lamp is on the way to flowing. I've also installed a new multi-way switch thing in the bedroom to make it easier to turn off the lamp, fairy lights and electric blanket. I feel more useful and so I feel more positive about myself.

I intend to spend this evening relaxing and allowing myself to do nothing. I was going to say 'nothing important', but that's the mistake I keep making - this is important. I am doing something very, very important. I hope that tomorrow when I wake up my mood will be lighter and more care-free and I'll start climbing the mountain again.

Birthdays...

So this entry is to wish the very clever re-namer of this blog (2010 was then) a wonderful birthday and a year full of happiness, snow, sunshine, tea, cake, cheese, yummy tofu, happy cars, happy bikes, many camping stoves, leak-proof tents, well-written travelogues, much love and many enjoyable chats with his beloved sister (me). xxxx

The whirlwind is settling

Sand, sea and feelings behind me, Bournemouth seems a long time ago. After a year apart, I finally have the majority of my belongings with me and home feels even more like home. Going back to Salford felt like a circle had completed, like something had finished. Two of my brothers used to live in the community housed in those little poetic streets, I lived there for one summer when I was 17 and I worked hard to earn money for the first time in my life - photo flashes come into my head of newspaper from the 70s lining the carpets, trying to wallpaper the ceiling and, afterwards, trying to wash wallpaper paste out of my hair. Now my nephew lives there and when I collected my stuff I felt like I had finally been able to close the circle on everything that happened there and it was with sadness that I said goodbye - to the poetic streets, Rudyard St, Kipling St, and to the church at the end of the road where the evil dogs chased me and caused me to break my foot. I remembered going back to my brother's that time, for food, sitting in his small living room with my sister, my parents, my aunt and my cousin. It was family time and family moves on. They're still around me and still in my heart, but not like it was then.

I look around me and I smile. Maybe this weekend when the whirlwind stops, I'll be able to stop and enjoy it a little more. This is my home now and my heart glows with warmth and happiness.