SNOW!

Absolutely stunningly beautiful!

I woke to an odd coloured bedroom and leaped out of bed to look outside. Sure enough, the whole view was white and peaceful. The flakes are large and falling gently, and the snow on the ground is already a couple of inches deep. All I want to do is to go outside and make snow angels, but I am going to a wedding this afternoon in London and really ought to eat some cornflakes, drink my tea and get ready to leave.

I love it! Now that I officially have a home, I must go up to Manchester and collect my snowboarding clothes and walking boots, then snow playing will be a long-lasting pleasure rather than short-lived or a damp cold misery. :-)

Ooh, maybe we'll have a white Christmas!! :-)

My freewheeling curious mind - a minor rant

2010 in Zen? How could I have got that wrong? The title of my last post. Doesn't make a huge amount of difference to the meaning I guess. Up early this morning. At least, earlier than usual. I'm reading a lot at the moment. It all seems brain related. Read about a couple who've decided to ignore the clock going back and it's solved the problem of his cluster headaches and saved electricity. Bonus. Reading a fantastic book called A Brilliant Madness about, of course, manic depression, as this is my obsession at the moment. This one has a different slant to the others and focuses very strongly on the mood disorders being physical illness - chemical imbalance - not mental. And I think, as I always have done, about the distinction between mental and physical illness and, as usual, it irritates me. How common is it to feel depressed following a virus - post-viral blues? How many neurological-based problems have psychological outcomes? What about anxiety and manic depression causing physical symptoms such as nausea and digestive problems? Or allergy causing anxiety and a sense of impending doom. It angers me hugely that there is still such stigma against mental health problems, when really the distinction between mental and physical is so slim, barely a thread, that can easily be broken with your teeth. I understand that some 'mental' health problems can be frightening - psychosis for one, whether related to manic depression and therefore relatively easily treatable, or schizophrenia, or overuse of drugs, or... Alzheimers, Parkinson's, lupus, HIV (yes it can - I didn't know that one before!), multiple sclerosis - a multitude of 'physical' conditions... I don't like this distinction. It makes me feel uneasy. It reminds me of the way we all (myself included) have a tendency to need to box things up neatly. If someone is different we treat them as if there is something wrong with them and why should we do this? Who are we to say that this something is wrong? A lot of these 'conditions' have benefits which is why they have remained through natural selection - the mania of manic depression can have massively creative outcomes or insights, as well as sometimes being destructive, Asperger's provides those of use without it with a totally different way of seeing the world, which I have found in my own personal life to be hugely beneficial. For example, how many of you have seen couples arguing in public and she is screaming at him and saying "Well if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you!" as if he should be able to read her mind and has let her down terribly by not bothering to know her well enough to what is inside her head. Asperger's teaches us in a most striking fashion that this really isn't possible and why is it so hard to just say "Okay, well if you don't know, I'll tell you, because obviously you can't read my mind." How much more sensible and mature would a conversation of that nature be? Of course, some 'conditions' remain because a symptom of them may be promiscuity, but that's another issue.

I seem to be ranting. I am fascinated. Back to manic depression. Those with it often have family histories peppered with depression (or recurrent depression, which can actually be manic depression misdiagnosed with low level manic episodes that are so low they are unrecognisable - more likely if the depression was never effectively treated as such), anaemia, colour blindness, thyroid problems, alcoholism, other substance abuse including legal drugs such as tranquilisers), stories of eccentric relatives who regularly disappear into a dark room for days with a 'headache' or otherwise slightly bizarre behaviour, periods of lows and elation, inspiration, impulsivity. It's not purely genetic as environmental factors do play a part in triggering the condition, it would seem. It usually hits in late teens/early 20s. Then there are the psychlothymics who just swing gently from high to low on a regular basis and never need medication. Misdiagnoses can include depression, schizophrenia (especially for the 'good outcome' or 'quick recovery' ones), premenstrual tension, schizoaffective disorder. There's a whole range of things that people often get labelled with before being correctly diagnosed.

I don't know why it fascinates me so much, but something, somewhere, somehow, is beginning to make a lot of sense to me in the back of my little, freewheeling, curious, mind.

I am aiming to complete my essay on the use of creativity in Gestalt therapy this week, though more realistically I have postponed this until 'end of 2010' and then. Then I have time to write and I am so excited. It has been building up in me, frustratingly, for months, this desire to write and little time to do so. The time is coming and my fingers will soon flow with what they want to say, rather than what I have to say, as required by my college! :-) Wishing you all a fabulous week. If you're in the UK and reading this, wrap up warm. Snow is on the way again! xx

2010 in Zen

I am very aware that the year is drawing to a close. We have almost completed the first decade of this new century. I started the year by creating this - my blog: 2010 is Zen and so I start by asking myself if the title was true - was 2010 Zen for me? It was kind of a joke name, but in all honestly this year has been amazing.

I had a holiday in Thailand which prompted me to start my book - a book which is now part way through its second draft. A holiday with my beautiful friend Kathy, our adventures and chats, my meditations in the Buddhist temples. It was utterly delicious, despite my slightly unfriendly introduction to Bangkok. My memories are like a slide show of beautiful photos, enveloped in warmth, freedom and safety. Except the motorbike riding - that didn't feel so safe at the start and only felt moderately safe at the end! Thanks to Voluptua, the lovely bike and her owner Kathy for taking me on some fun rides and turning me from a total scaredy cat, to just a moderate one.

Then I found myself in Hong Kong for three months. I meditated, healed and practiced yoga regularly, I made friends there, some of whom I shall never forget because of their kindness, genuineness and acceptance. I was surrounded by sea and mountains, as well as an amazing city life - a drab grey city by day, that at night came to magical life, a world of diamonds made from sparkling fairy lights, of chance encounters and randomness. After half a year of no drinking, I indulged in the odd cocktail or two in rooftop bars with fantastic views and, rare for me, not feeling in the slightly bit chilly. This period also set me on my current path, to continue my counselling training, which is what I am currently immersed in, perhaps almost drowning in.

Then it was Croatia, my homeland, my heartland. Finding more about who I am, reconnecting with my Croatian heart - that was a special experience, shared with some special people who I'll probably never see again, but that's okay. If we're meant to meet up again, we will, and if not, well we had a great time. It was also very much a family time for me - my Mama and aunt, my cousins. Daily life in the heart of a city, surrounded by a beautiful - if frustratingly difficult - language, with family all around me. I feel so lucky to be part of my family - we might be difficult from time to time and we might be honest to the point of pain occasionally, but we're honest and we love deeply.

I wrote in my diary what I wanted to have achieved by the end of the 2010. The things I have achieved from this list include making a decision about my training, moving out of London, practicing more meditation and healing and writing a book and getting feedback on it. I wanted to publish my book by the end of this year, but some things take time and there was stuff I needed to learn before I got to this point. Perhaps I have also learned a little more realism and patience. Never thought I'd say that!

So, the next steps? Right now, get rid of this vile cold and endless snot. I'm taking herbal tinctures and infusions, mixed by my lovely sister who tries to make me believe they will taste nice with the addition of a little honey. I have to confess, though don't tell her, that I am convinced of their effectiveness if not their taste - the vile tasting concoction she gave me last night helped me breathe easy and sleep peacefully. For the first time in days I didn't need to sleep with tissues stuffed up my nostrils to stem the snotty flow. I am now able to look slightly more sexy as I sleep - always important to know that if you're going to be disturbed at night - for example by an intruder - that you can still look your best.

Next year who knows? There are things I know I will do and things I would love to do, but we shall see. One thing for sure is that I know I need to change the title of this blog.

I'll be in touch again before Christmas. I want to wish you a happy one, but this is far too early for me do so without irritating myself. Tell you what, I'll say instead, have a good week!! :-)

It's the simple things that satisfy

After doing a spot of college work and sorting out my notes, I have spent the rest of the day painting white paint onto walls and woodwork, and we shall start putting up the coving up shortly...once the correct adhesive has been purchased. I am very good at painting (if I may say so myself) and enjoy it hugely. Well, except painting the ceiling (which hurts my arms and fills my eyes with paint speckles), but there is always a nice strong muscley man to attend to that element of any room.

I shall be rewarded with sushi in a couple of hours, which makes me very happy indeed. :-) Suuuuushi. Yum yum. Nice slabs of raw fish, rice and perhaps some vegetables. Yummmmmy. :-)

I am tired. My hands ache, my arms ache, my back aches, but I feel satisfied. It has been a satisfactory day. Satisfaction has been achieved. It has all been wonderful satisfying. :-)

Time to smile and drink tea for a moment.

Kisses.

PS I discovered that golden syrup with finely chopped garlic, soy sauce, a splash of fish sauce and finely chopped chili (with seeds) is delicious when used as a marinade for chicken. Same sauce also used to saute spinach leaves and baby plum tomatoes as a side dish, and drizzled over sweet potatoes, regular potatoes and carrots once they landed on our plates. Deee-licious.

Movement

Not talking bowels here, they're fine thank you. Talking life progress. Today I was offered a voluntary counselling placement in Wokingham, a short train ride from Reading. It's a lovely area and very easy to get to. I  have to do undertake a six-week induction there (effectively) and then I have a two-hour slot in Woodley every Wednesday evening. I am so happy. :-)

When they asked me about working in their Reading-based clinics I said that I used public transport and they immediately decided it would be impossible for me to work from those locations. Honestly, I think it would be about a half-hour cycle ride. They were shocked, not being used to anyone travelling anywhere other than by car. Well, perhaps there are some advantaged of having lived the last 10 years of my life in London - you get used to life without a car. Guess I'll have to buy a bike in January then.

So, I am starting to sort a few things out and it feels good. Now back down to work!

Slackness

Not talking slackness of jowls due to aging here, as you might think. I'm not that old thank you very much, though I did notice that when I hang my head upside down the flesh accumulates under my eyes and makes me look like I'm about 60 years old. That was rather depressing so I shan't be experimenting with that look again.

No, I'm talking about slackness of posting. I have been slack. I apologise. I'm not very exciting right now.

Well, I've been running once a week for the last month - one hour, covering 5-6 miles in the time, which I am fairly proud of. I've also been mountain biking the weekend just gone - two hours, covering just over 8 miles - and that was wicked fun. Scary and I didn't quite manage to making it up again from a steep downhill into a muddy ditch. I also got mud in my eyes and was wearing a mud goatee for a bit (unbeknown to me at the time). Topped off with a Berkshire Cornish pasty and I was well happy. :-)

I've also got back into the social circle and have actually started to make dates with friends again. I guess this must mean I am feeling more settled. Either that or a little stir crazy. I feel the need to start implementing. In the language of my therapy training, I have left the fertile void of nothingness and I am now ready for action.

If anyone knows of a non-dysfunctional easy-going flatshare in Reading, please let me know! I can't be doing with squabbles over bills or washing up. I want easy, cup of tea? thank you very much! night night then, type of flatshare. The odd bit of fun is fine, but to be honest, I'd rather boring over fun for my homelife. For me fun is cycling and running and watching funny stuff on the big black box from time to time. For me fun is chatting for hours or having the odd dinner party. For me, fun is being creative with buttons and dye. Goodness, bring on the slack jowls, I'm clearly ready for them...

Benoit Mandelbrot

The father of fractals has died age 85. An astonishingly intelligent man.

Something he said, which has somehow got under my skin is reported in a BBC article "Mandelbrot was also highly critical of the world banking system, arguing the economic model it used was unable to cope with its own complexity."

It makes me feel very uneasy and I have an intuitive sense that he predicted something significant. It somehow reinforces my belief that cash should be stored in gold under the bed and ploughed into property ownership and not invested into pensions and stocks. Anything that is essentially not 'real' worries me. Somewhat hypocritical of me, given I don't own many things and all my money is in banks - intending to all be spent this year however, I might add.

For further information read Mandelbrot's book 'The Fractal Geometry of Nature' published in 1982. I haven't yet read it in its entirety and plan to purchase it.

Something that also pops to mind, relating to the ridiculousness of money and finances, is the book 'Fooled by Randomness - the hidden role of chance and life in the markets.' Now forgive me if I am wrong, but what I took from this book is that the whole world seems to revolve around a financial illusion that is unsustainable.

Now I shall go away and ponder these two seemingly unrelated things and work out what I really think.

96 seems to be the going rate

I heard today than an old friend of the family died on Monday. Doris Beaver was 96, the same age as my Great Aunt Ailsa was when she died in January. It seems 96 is the going rate then. Well, at least 96 - I hope to make it past that.

My Dad told me that she'd had a stroke a couple of decades ago and lived independently since then, up until two years ago that is. He told me she was never cantankerous. When I think of her I feel warm and safe - I remember her being a kind, amusing and generous soul. I remember photos in her living room and patio doors...at least I think I do. I remember a garden with trees. I remember she lived in Croydon, or thereabouts. We used to pop in on the way to or from Croatia, when we were small. I remember it always being sunny, but the summers of my childhood were all sunny and hot, in my memory that is.

This blog post is in her memory and is to express gratitude and thanks for the wonderful person that she was. My challenge is to be as non-cantankerous as she was. There really is no need. So kindness and gentleness all round, please.

It's not black and white

I've been studying cultural perspectives within counselling and it's making me think. I am a little wary of writing a post about ethnicity because I know it is so easy to cause offence or to be insensitive. I want to state up front that this is not my intention and I am just trying to make sense of stuff I'm learning right now. Think of me as a child taking my first steps if you think I am being naive or insensitive. If you think I am blind to something, please tell me - if no-one points me in the right direction, I may never see and I really want to learn.
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I’ve never thought about what it meant to be white. It has never crossed my mind to think about it. It felt somehow insignificant. Apparently this is quite normal for white people. We don’t really associate with white ethnicity or ever think about its implications. Some studies say that we are ‘trained to be blind to the fact of our privileges’.

Now, for possibly the first time, I am thinking about my whiteness and the privilege it brings. I have always felt lucky, perhaps another term for privilege, that I am intelligent, that I am ‘good enough’ to always get a job. I recognise that I have been luckier than others in always having work, because I am bright, because I am attractive – I know this makes a difference in interviews – and because I am naturally sociable, outgoing and empathic. I have never thought about the fact of being white as helping me to get work, but now I do think about it, I wonder if perhaps I have been luckier than some because I am white. 

I wonder if despite being a ‘lovely person’ and actually being good at what I do, whether being attractive, white and unmarried has also helped me enormously. I wonder and I know for sure it’s true in some cases. I don’t feel guilty, I feel very lucky. Although I see that being white may have helped me, I also know that if I was shit at my work, I would not have been allowed to stay employed…but then I question that statement. Could I have got away with more, I wonder, because I am white?

Should I feel guilty then, I wonder? And I think, no. I used to feel terribly guilty (as a teenager) for being intelligent and having an easier time at school than others, but I know now that I shouldn’t have. I also know that it wasn’t always easy – there was being a foreigner with an odd name, there was not being rich or having attended one of the posh universities, there was having illness in the family, to cope with on top of ordinary daily stresses, on many occasions providing support that other people wouldn’t have had a clue about.

As long as I don’t boast or use my privileges unfairly to get one over on someone else, then surely I should be grateful for whatever I have been blessed with, and use it in a positive way to help me get on in life and to make a difference. Be grateful for what I have and accept the things I don’t have. Surely ingratitude would have the same outcome as feeling guilty. I would waste opportunities to make a difference and, for me, that would be a crime.

But then I come back to things that might change - I will always be white, intelligent and sociable, but I may one day be less attractive (as I age, perhaps) or I may not always be unmarried. I wonder how those changes would impact my chances of employment and I feel a tinge of anger that they may make things harder. I have, perhaps, taken for granted the things that make my life easier. I feel a tinge of what it must be like to have to fight that little bit harder for something you know you could do standing on your head, perhaps a million times better than the person who got the job, a little bit more attractive than me, a little bit more sociable, with money or connections I could never hope to have, or simply, a different skin colour.

Reality versus dream

Reality

I slept at my sister's house last night. I have just woken up and am about to cook some yummy homemade fishcakes for my breakfast.

Dream

I was in an odd place, not sure what it was, but I had a tiny poky little room with no windows and no light. It was stuffy and claustrophobic. I think we were all part Croatian in this place. Outside my door was a little landing and there was another tiny bedroom next door to mine. The person in it had a window. I was envious of the window. I couldn't work out if it was a he or a she. S/he spoke to me and apologised about the drunken behaviour the night before. I said to him/her "It's okay, you don't need to worry. I'm not really here. My body is actually sleeping in my sister's flat and I'm only here for a few hours. I wasn't here last night either, so I don't remember anything - I didn't hear anything, I wasn't here."

For him/her this was a life, s/he'd been living here. My room looked like I had been living there too, but I knew it had all been constructed for just those few hours of me being there, that I was really fast asleep in my sister's flat and that before my sleeping, I'd been awake and in Reading and London.

I then 'woke up' in my sister's flat and cooked some fishcakes for my breakfast. After I ate them I wiped the surfaces and put stuff in the fridge, then found these three homemade fishcakes and was gutted I'd eaten the shop-bought ones.


Reality

I was woken at 6am and then again at 7.30am (when my sister got up and then left the flat) and I guess that the combination of this left me confused. I heard sounds that didn't make sense. I saw bright lights that weren't daylight and my mind was so confused when I finally woke up into reality.

I woke up for real at 8.30am, relieved I still had nice fishcakes to cook. I felt I'd been asleep either four hours or 20 hours, but in reality I'd been asleep about 8.5 hours, but broken.

It's funny. The first time I 'woke up' I 'knew' I was awake. Now I am really awake I have no doubt that I am really awake. There is no fear that I am somehow still trapped in a dream.

What is it with this dream within a dream? I've always had them and always found them fascinating. Sometimes wonderful and sometimes irritating when I've lived a whole day and have to do it all over again, depending, of course, if it was a wonderful day or a difficult day.

The new thing for me, with this, was knowing where I was - asleep in my sister's flat. This hasn't happened before. I've always known I was dreaming before, but this had a different, kind of Matrix-esque quality.

Thoughts welcome. Please post. :-)