there's a lot of pushing and shuffling tonight
there's a storm within my heart and it is felt as far as my guts on one side and my head on the other
Clairon wants to go back to what she knows: fantasies, high up in Rapunzel's tower, away from real life because it is not the way she wants it, it is not the way she dreamt it, it is not the way she was promised it would always be...
she wants reassurance, she wants contracts, she wants feelings set in stone, she wants promises right now and for ever and ever, she wants to be fulfilled, she wants to be loved like in fairytales
Clairon is being very present tonight, like she's stood up onto the table and taking centre stage, at any cost she wants to go back to a miserable life and be seen as a victim to be rescued
on the other side, Clairette feels very small and cannot raise her voice
Clairette is there though, swinging beween the belief that Clairon is right and the knowledge that she's not... and so she goes in and out of under her cloak... when she's hiding, I feel unloved, worthless and desparately hurt... when she's out, there's life, colours, jokes and peaceful hapiness for what I have
i'm grateful i sometimes have the possibility to jump "outside" myself and dissect my emotional storms yet when stuck in the middle of it, it is so very painful
Is this growing up?
22 August 2007
Quotation
It does not matter how slowly you go so long as you do not stop
Confucius (551 BC - 479 BC)
Confucius (551 BC - 479 BC)
21 August 2007
Stone circle
To start with I must confess that I have just come back from the pub where I had a drink with my dear friend I. Well, really, a large and a small glass of wine, and in England, that adds up to 1/2 bottle of wine!!! and yes, it has come up to my system... so what makes sense to me tonight as I write what follows might not make much sense tomorrow. But really, does it matter???
There's something I've wanted to talk about all day and I'd promised myself that I'd come home and turn on my computer, regardless of how tired I feel... And I do feel tired!
After the visit of the crop circle on Saturday, I walked through Avebury stone circles on Sunday morning. A small village in Wiltshire that has two stone circles, a small an a large one surrounding the small one. The grass was very green and thick after the "miserable and rainy" summer we've had and walking through this thriving life brought tears to my eyes. A few times while standing inside the circle I felt the call to kneel down and thank the Earth for this gift of having brought me to Her, pay my respect to her Spirit, feel how small I am yet as important as any other living being. I play my part, I am part of the circle of life and this circle would be different without me. I have my place in it. It brought an immense sense of worth into my lungs and my
heart...
© Suzisunflowers Avebury Circle stone circle Wiltshire Whats on Wiltshire 2003-2007
One specific stone called me close and asked that I lean against her. A timeless energy of patience, knowledge, steadfastness, detachment spread from my back within my belly, my legs, my shoulders and arms... I knew that this stone knew it all, had seen it all, what has happened and what will happen... She was out of time and space and she filled me a little of this "whatever happens to you may be remembered but will not matter"... Interestingly I felt, " that's true, I'm only a human being for a short while then who knows what will become of my psyche, through time and space... whatever happens to me here may be remembered in other lives but will not matter..."
As the crowd grew steadily bigger, I walked away for a 3 hours walk around the village, entered West Kennet Long Barrow, an ancient tomb showing 5 or 6 underground chambers and dating back 5000 years (if I remember well...) and walked through the Sanctuary, a place right along the main road which was a place of celebration. These two archeological sites didn't bring much emotions at the time and I walked off.
Then I fell onto a stone, of which I was told later as I described it, that it was made of flint. It was rather flat and 10 to 15 cm long, maybe 3 or 4 cm thick at its thickest and 1/2 the bottom had been split off, leaving rather sharp edges. Bi-colour, grey-ish all around but shiny dark grey and white-ish where the split had occurred. The most interesting feature was that on the top of the stone stood proud two kind of horns, approximately 6 cm apart and maybe 2 cm high. I stopped instantly, felt all its angles in my palms and I wondered whether it had been carved that way a long time ago or whether it was natural... I liked to think that it had been carved as a tool in ancient times. I was already thinking where I would put it on my altar back at home when I suddenly was short of breath... in front of me stood a small mound of earth and a beautiful circle of oak trees in several rows.
The view was breathtaking. I was in front of perfection, I felt that the most beautiful gift had just been given to me and I began to weep in gratitude... I walked around this circle in complete awe, asked permission to enter. Once inside, the stone with horns then "told" me that her place wasn't in London. I was not to take it back, her place was here in this land of richness and wholeness. She needed to "tell" me this a few times before I accepted and made sure that was the right thing to do. After thanking her for her gift I laid her down at the root of one of the oak tree. I know that a part of me has stayed behind within this stone and is growing roots. I just know that when those roots will be deep enough, it'll be time for the branches to grow - a nice image for growth happening in the unconscious before coming out in the open when the foundations are strong to support life in the outside...
Of course I've been wondering many times since then whether it was the right decision, what will happen to "my" stone when it is discovered by someone else, and maybe exposed in a souvenir shop... I do not like the ideas but deep down I only know it was the right choice - there is however no way I can explain it. And so I won't...
The last thing I want to share tonight is that I walked for 4 hours and never did I feel tired. I'm certainly not rambler-fit these days and the only explanation for me is that the land supported me and fed me with energy all that time.
I will need to go back. After Dahab in Egypt I feel that I've found some kind of home in the Avebury Countryside!!
There's something I've wanted to talk about all day and I'd promised myself that I'd come home and turn on my computer, regardless of how tired I feel... And I do feel tired!
After the visit of the crop circle on Saturday, I walked through Avebury stone circles on Sunday morning. A small village in Wiltshire that has two stone circles, a small an a large one surrounding the small one. The grass was very green and thick after the "miserable and rainy" summer we've had and walking through this thriving life brought tears to my eyes. A few times while standing inside the circle I felt the call to kneel down and thank the Earth for this gift of having brought me to Her, pay my respect to her Spirit, feel how small I am yet as important as any other living being. I play my part, I am part of the circle of life and this circle would be different without me. I have my place in it. It brought an immense sense of worth into my lungs and my
heart...© Suzisunflowers Avebury Circle stone circle Wiltshire Whats on Wiltshire 2003-2007
One specific stone called me close and asked that I lean against her. A timeless energy of patience, knowledge, steadfastness, detachment spread from my back within my belly, my legs, my shoulders and arms... I knew that this stone knew it all, had seen it all, what has happened and what will happen... She was out of time and space and she filled me a little of this "whatever happens to you may be remembered but will not matter"... Interestingly I felt, " that's true, I'm only a human being for a short while then who knows what will become of my psyche, through time and space... whatever happens to me here may be remembered in other lives but will not matter..."
As the crowd grew steadily bigger, I walked away for a 3 hours walk around the village, entered West Kennet Long Barrow, an ancient tomb showing 5 or 6 underground chambers and dating back 5000 years (if I remember well...) and walked through the Sanctuary, a place right along the main road which was a place of celebration. These two archeological sites didn't bring much emotions at the time and I walked off.
Then I fell onto a stone, of which I was told later as I described it, that it was made of flint. It was rather flat and 10 to 15 cm long, maybe 3 or 4 cm thick at its thickest and 1/2 the bottom had been split off, leaving rather sharp edges. Bi-colour, grey-ish all around but shiny dark grey and white-ish where the split had occurred. The most interesting feature was that on the top of the stone stood proud two kind of horns, approximately 6 cm apart and maybe 2 cm high. I stopped instantly, felt all its angles in my palms and I wondered whether it had been carved that way a long time ago or whether it was natural... I liked to think that it had been carved as a tool in ancient times. I was already thinking where I would put it on my altar back at home when I suddenly was short of breath... in front of me stood a small mound of earth and a beautiful circle of oak trees in several rows.
The view was breathtaking. I was in front of perfection, I felt that the most beautiful gift had just been given to me and I began to weep in gratitude... I walked around this circle in complete awe, asked permission to enter. Once inside, the stone with horns then "told" me that her place wasn't in London. I was not to take it back, her place was here in this land of richness and wholeness. She needed to "tell" me this a few times before I accepted and made sure that was the right thing to do. After thanking her for her gift I laid her down at the root of one of the oak tree. I know that a part of me has stayed behind within this stone and is growing roots. I just know that when those roots will be deep enough, it'll be time for the branches to grow - a nice image for growth happening in the unconscious before coming out in the open when the foundations are strong to support life in the outside...
Of course I've been wondering many times since then whether it was the right decision, what will happen to "my" stone when it is discovered by someone else, and maybe exposed in a souvenir shop... I do not like the ideas but deep down I only know it was the right choice - there is however no way I can explain it. And so I won't...
The last thing I want to share tonight is that I walked for 4 hours and never did I feel tired. I'm certainly not rambler-fit these days and the only explanation for me is that the land supported me and fed me with energy all that time.
I will need to go back. After Dahab in Egypt I feel that I've found some kind of home in the Avebury Countryside!!
18 August 2007
Crop circle
Yes, the last couple of weeks have been a bit of a roller coaster emotionally, flying real, real high before coming down hard (the positive there is that I haven't crashed!). In both cases it involved revisiting long known emotions. I learnt lots about who I am through what happened but if I had to pick one thing, then it would be that I have been able to pat (not sure of the spelling and don't have a dictionnary nearby...) myself on the back and have compassion. That is very nice indeed.
But here is why I'm babbling in a very long introduction. I had "promised" a good friend of mine to go to his mega-BBQ party today but decided after checking within myself to let him down (not without a strong feeling of guilt) and to tell him the truth (as opposed to make up a crap story to avoid upsetting him). And I made it to Wiltshire instead, to come and walk through crop circles, stone circles and see the chalk white horses that lie around in the hills... Funny enough, I got a text/sms from my friend on Friday morning telling me it was cancelled due to poor weather conditions...
I decided to start with the cop circles as the harvesting season is well advanced and if there was any chance to see some, tomorrow might have been too late... I met Rob and Sarah in the Silent Circle café and they offered me to join them as I was by myself. Very nice of them. And so, lucky as we were, one circle was newly formed yesterday morning and still there.
Image: John Montgomery, Copyright 2007
Both these images come from www.cropcircleconnector.com
One striking thing was that I completely lost track of time whilst inside the circle. I wouldn't have been able to say whether it was 10 minutes or 3h... It was actually a bit more than one, as I saw when I came back to the car.
For some reason I felt compelled to walk in the direction in which the crop were flattenned. As I stood somewhere near the centre of it (there was no way I could be sure of it) I was drawn into looking North-East and "had to" kneel down to pay respect and send gratitude. I then felt my heart open. It was heavy with a stone pushing the boundaries away, making space. The image I got from it was something like a circular stone being rolled away from the entrance of a Roman Tomb, except that the stone was inside the tomb, the heart, and not outside (if it makes any sense...)
Image: John Montgomery, Copyright 2007
Both these images come from www.cropcircleconnector.com
Next, I felt the urge to walk the outside of the circle and as soon as I started, it reminded me of a similar urge that occurred in Carn Euni (near Sancreed in Cornwall) last November. Not only the alleyways were beautiful, but the very shape of the circle got imprinted in my bones, in my breath, in my blood, in my skin, in my holy water... I felt more peaceful and ever more grateful to the crop, to the rain, to the spirits that have allowed this formation to be born.
At this stage, knowing hardly anything about crop circles, I don't mind whether these spirits are human or else. I don't know how these circles are formed and it doesn't really matter to me. I must admit that I'd love them to be NOT man-made, though.
Finally to wrap up a good day, I am staying in the most wonderful B&B. The farm dates back from the early 19th century, it is like a labyrinth in there, and it is surrounded by beautiful horses who come to you and ask for being stroked...
It was obviously meant to be a rich weekend for me! Before I close for the night, I must not forget to thank my friend backpacker/globetrotter without whom I might not have come down here.
But here is why I'm babbling in a very long introduction. I had "promised" a good friend of mine to go to his mega-BBQ party today but decided after checking within myself to let him down (not without a strong feeling of guilt) and to tell him the truth (as opposed to make up a crap story to avoid upsetting him). And I made it to Wiltshire instead, to come and walk through crop circles, stone circles and see the chalk white horses that lie around in the hills... Funny enough, I got a text/sms from my friend on Friday morning telling me it was cancelled due to poor weather conditions...
I decided to start with the cop circles as the harvesting season is well advanced and if there was any chance to see some, tomorrow might have been too late... I met Rob and Sarah in the Silent Circle café and they offered me to join them as I was by myself. Very nice of them. And so, lucky as we were, one circle was newly formed yesterday morning and still there.
Image: John Montgomery, Copyright 2007
Both these images come from www.cropcircleconnector.com
One striking thing was that I completely lost track of time whilst inside the circle. I wouldn't have been able to say whether it was 10 minutes or 3h... It was actually a bit more than one, as I saw when I came back to the car.
For some reason I felt compelled to walk in the direction in which the crop were flattenned. As I stood somewhere near the centre of it (there was no way I could be sure of it) I was drawn into looking North-East and "had to" kneel down to pay respect and send gratitude. I then felt my heart open. It was heavy with a stone pushing the boundaries away, making space. The image I got from it was something like a circular stone being rolled away from the entrance of a Roman Tomb, except that the stone was inside the tomb, the heart, and not outside (if it makes any sense...)
Image: John Montgomery, Copyright 2007
Both these images come from www.cropcircleconnector.com
Next, I felt the urge to walk the outside of the circle and as soon as I started, it reminded me of a similar urge that occurred in Carn Euni (near Sancreed in Cornwall) last November. Not only the alleyways were beautiful, but the very shape of the circle got imprinted in my bones, in my breath, in my blood, in my skin, in my holy water... I felt more peaceful and ever more grateful to the crop, to the rain, to the spirits that have allowed this formation to be born.
At this stage, knowing hardly anything about crop circles, I don't mind whether these spirits are human or else. I don't know how these circles are formed and it doesn't really matter to me. I must admit that I'd love them to be NOT man-made, though.
Finally to wrap up a good day, I am staying in the most wonderful B&B. The farm dates back from the early 19th century, it is like a labyrinth in there, and it is surrounded by beautiful horses who come to you and ask for being stroked...
It was obviously meant to be a rich weekend for me! Before I close for the night, I must not forget to thank my friend backpacker/globetrotter without whom I might not have come down here.
17 August 2007
Mandala
Une fois n'est pas coutume, je suis rentrée chez moi tôt ce vendredi soir, après avoir passé quelques heures dans les magasins du centre londoniens, à la recherche de.... livres.
Comme d'habitude, j'en ai trouvés, et achetés, plus que ce que j'avais prévu. Mais je me suis tout de même restreinte et n'en ai rapporté que deux!! Pas mal, non?
Celui que je voulais "Eros and pathos - Shades of Love and suffering" (eros et pathos - ombres d'amour et de souffrance) décrit les mécanismes psychologiques et ou inconscients de la relation amoureuse, de la jamousie et qui révèle ce que l'on peut apprendre sur soi lorsque l'on visite des étapes telles que l'erotisme, l'abandon ou la solitude... Ayant parcouru ce livre que l'on m'avait prêté, j'ai fini par le rendre rapidement car je sentais le besoin de surligner, souligner, marquer, en somme de le faire mien...
Celui sur lequel je suis tombée dans cette librairie/caverne d'Ali Baba s'intitule "Power animals - How to connect with your animal spirit guide". Plus axé chamanisme, l'auteur guide le lecteur à découvrir son/ses propres guides spirituels animaux qu'il peut appeler si besoin pour protection, aider, soigner...
Mais mon shopping ne s'est pas arrêté là puisque je me suis réapprovisionnée en feuilles à dessins et en peinture acrylique pour tissus. Je cherche depuis quelques mois un T-shirt avec un Mandala... Ne trouvant pas mon bonheur, je me dis qu'il va falloir que je le fasse moi-même. Bien entendu j'ai commencé par un essai, et fait ce soir un pochoir sur papier
J'avais mis mes trois couleurs primaires sur ma palette, décidée à faire des essais de couleurs, et puis au moment de plonger le pinceau dans le jaune, j'ai réalisé que JE NE VEUX PAS DE BLEU NI DE VERT. Par contre, foncer vers les rouges alors que je m'éloigne vers l'extérieur, oui, triple oui!! "The gold is in the centre, surrounded and protected by the red of passion and heat, in two successive layers" (l'or est au centre, enveloppé et protégé par le rouge de lapassion et de la chaleur, en deux couches successives)
Malheureusement (vraiment?), mon pochoir de fortune n'a pas tenu le coup lorsqu'il a fallu le séparer de cette oeuvre... Est-ce cela qu'on appelle l'art éphémère?
Aurai-je jamais le courage de ma lancer sur tissu???
Comme d'habitude, j'en ai trouvés, et achetés, plus que ce que j'avais prévu. Mais je me suis tout de même restreinte et n'en ai rapporté que deux!! Pas mal, non?
Celui que je voulais "Eros and pathos - Shades of Love and suffering" (eros et pathos - ombres d'amour et de souffrance) décrit les mécanismes psychologiques et ou inconscients de la relation amoureuse, de la jamousie et qui révèle ce que l'on peut apprendre sur soi lorsque l'on visite des étapes telles que l'erotisme, l'abandon ou la solitude... Ayant parcouru ce livre que l'on m'avait prêté, j'ai fini par le rendre rapidement car je sentais le besoin de surligner, souligner, marquer, en somme de le faire mien...
Celui sur lequel je suis tombée dans cette librairie/caverne d'Ali Baba s'intitule "Power animals - How to connect with your animal spirit guide". Plus axé chamanisme, l'auteur guide le lecteur à découvrir son/ses propres guides spirituels animaux qu'il peut appeler si besoin pour protection, aider, soigner...
Mais mon shopping ne s'est pas arrêté là puisque je me suis réapprovisionnée en feuilles à dessins et en peinture acrylique pour tissus. Je cherche depuis quelques mois un T-shirt avec un Mandala... Ne trouvant pas mon bonheur, je me dis qu'il va falloir que je le fasse moi-même. Bien entendu j'ai commencé par un essai, et fait ce soir un pochoir sur papier
J'avais mis mes trois couleurs primaires sur ma palette, décidée à faire des essais de couleurs, et puis au moment de plonger le pinceau dans le jaune, j'ai réalisé que JE NE VEUX PAS DE BLEU NI DE VERT. Par contre, foncer vers les rouges alors que je m'éloigne vers l'extérieur, oui, triple oui!! "The gold is in the centre, surrounded and protected by the red of passion and heat, in two successive layers" (l'or est au centre, enveloppé et protégé par le rouge de lapassion et de la chaleur, en deux couches successives)
Malheureusement (vraiment?), mon pochoir de fortune n'a pas tenu le coup lorsqu'il a fallu le séparer de cette oeuvre... Est-ce cela qu'on appelle l'art éphémère?
Aurai-je jamais le courage de ma lancer sur tissu???
Citation
"Sans émotions, il est impossible de transformer les ténèbres en lumière et l'apathie en mouvement"
C. G. Jung
C. G. Jung
15 August 2007
Citation - 14 août
"Si le problème a une solution, il ne sert à rien de s'inquiéter. Mais s'il n'en a pas, alors s'inquiéter ne change rien"
Proverbe Tibétain
Proverbe Tibétain
This look
You give me this look but say
it's neither the good place nor the good time
will there ever such things as good time and good place?
so please, please please don't give me this look
Don't, don't, don't give me this look
sending starshape-like sparkles from my heart
pins tearing through muscles all down the legs
weakening the knees I can't stand
I need your support
Or give me this look that
pierces through my skull
steals my intimate secrets
reads my most shameful fantasies
and makes me your Queen
Give me this look but
don't turn away your eyes or I dissolve
you must keep looking and never quit
you must never leave me
you must never leave again
it's neither the good place nor the good time
will there ever such things as good time and good place?
so please, please please don't give me this look
Don't, don't, don't give me this look
sending starshape-like sparkles from my heart
pins tearing through muscles all down the legs
weakening the knees I can't stand
I need your support
Or give me this look that
pierces through my skull
steals my intimate secrets
reads my most shameful fantasies
and makes me your Queen
Give me this look but
don't turn away your eyes or I dissolve
you must keep looking and never quit
you must never leave me
you must never leave again
14 August 2007
Kicking in tonight
Giving some space to the feeling of longing
not just dismiss it as unimportant
allowing it some time to be expressed
Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggghhhhhhhhhhhh....
Tonight I don't want to acknowledge it
"I've dealt with it, it's gone now" goes my left brain
but my heart doesn't buy it
slaughtered as it is by a searing pain
The loss of a loved one is sorrowful
as much as it is a real blessing
but then again at this very minute
don't even try to make me believe this rubbish
not just dismiss it as unimportant
allowing it some time to be expressed
Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggghhhhhhhhhhhh....
Tonight I don't want to acknowledge it
"I've dealt with it, it's gone now" goes my left brain
but my heart doesn't buy it
slaughtered as it is by a searing pain
The loss of a loved one is sorrowful
as much as it is a real blessing
but then again at this very minute
don't even try to make me believe this rubbish
12 August 2007
Clairette
Once upon a time there was a yurt (or maybe a tippi) and I was invited to come in. It was dark outside and even darker inside but for a fire burning. The place was empty and I waited a little, standing... for someone to come I suppose? That someone came, sat down on the opposite side of the fire and finally offered me to sit down, too.
There were not many words exchanged. What I do remember though is that eventually I noticed in front and on my left hand side a young girl curled up so that she melted with the surroundings, invisible and quiet. I'd say she was 4 or 5 years-old and looking sad, spotty on her face. She seemed that to carry all the sins of the world on her shoulders. After this brief vision, she disappeared from sight under a heavy, thick cloak.
I've met her again and again over the last few years. I forgot about her, then stumbled upon her cloak and her spotty face, then forgot her again... each encounter brought a little bit more awareness from me and a little bit more life from her. So much so that in the last few weeks, I have actually been wanting to sit down with her, under her cloak.
She's told me her name: Clairette.
She's told me bits of her story: she'd been kept under that cloak for years by a blond girl who lived in a tower, who had a wonderful view over the country and yet was not happy. That blond girl's name is Clairon. When the cloak would slip off her head, Clairon would be there to put it back in place.
Clairon is now loosing strength and the cloak slips more and more often, further and further away. The misery on Clairette's face is fading, the spots drying out and resorbing. She's growing as a beautiful young girl. The grip of Clairon's longing for the perfect life, the perfect man, the perfect job, the perfect attitude, the perfect house, the perfect children... is receding. As much as she'd like her times in charge to be as before, those times are becoming shorter and more sparse.
There were not many words exchanged. What I do remember though is that eventually I noticed in front and on my left hand side a young girl curled up so that she melted with the surroundings, invisible and quiet. I'd say she was 4 or 5 years-old and looking sad, spotty on her face. She seemed that to carry all the sins of the world on her shoulders. After this brief vision, she disappeared from sight under a heavy, thick cloak.
I've met her again and again over the last few years. I forgot about her, then stumbled upon her cloak and her spotty face, then forgot her again... each encounter brought a little bit more awareness from me and a little bit more life from her. So much so that in the last few weeks, I have actually been wanting to sit down with her, under her cloak.
She's told me her name: Clairette.She's told me bits of her story: she'd been kept under that cloak for years by a blond girl who lived in a tower, who had a wonderful view over the country and yet was not happy. That blond girl's name is Clairon. When the cloak would slip off her head, Clairon would be there to put it back in place.
Clairon is now loosing strength and the cloak slips more and more often, further and further away. The misery on Clairette's face is fading, the spots drying out and resorbing. She's growing as a beautiful young girl. The grip of Clairon's longing for the perfect life, the perfect man, the perfect job, the perfect attitude, the perfect house, the perfect children... is receding. As much as she'd like her times in charge to be as before, those times are becoming shorter and more sparse.
10 August 2007
Amour ? non, amourS !
J'avais toujours cru que l'on se DEVAIT de mettre une lettre majuscule à Amour, parce qu'il n'en existe qu'un seul de durable, de valable, de véritable, de sensible.
Et donc j'avais toujours cru et vécu que quand pour une raison ou une autre, cet Amour disparaît, est englouti, asséché, fatigué, détourné, trahi, abandonné, arrêté, c'est la vie entière qui s'écroule.
Je ne crois plus à cela. A partir d'aujourd'hui, je me DOIS d'écrire amourS au pluriel. Parce qu'il est possible d'aimer plusieurs personnes à la fois. Ces amourS sont différents, ils viennent combler des besoins distincts, ils viennent soigner des blessures variées, ils viennent aider à être plus complet, plus entier, plus vrai.
Il y a quelques mois j'ai reçu et accepté l'amour d'un homme, qui n'a rien de romantique. En sa présence je me sens connectée à lui et je me sens connectée à moi. Je le désire physiquement avec pour souhait de prendre et de donner du plaisir. En sa présence, j'ai découvert une nouvelle sensualité, une nouvelle manière de séduire et d'aimer ; j'ai découvert que je suis une être sexuée et que ma sexualité est une part importante de ma vie. Très importante. Bien plus que je ne l'avais imaginé.
Je viens de recevoir, et d'accepter l'amour d'un homme, qui n'a rien de romantique. Grâce à lui, ses yeux attentionés bleus océan posés sur les miens encore trop affairés et son sourire que j'entends me dire "il n'y a présentement personne d'autre au monde de plus important que toi", je me sens connectée au reste du monde. Je le désire physiquement avec pour souhait de fusionner, de ne plus exister qu'à travers lui, de n'être qu'un, de disparaître dans mon actuel paraître. C'est à la fois extraordinairement excitant et terrifiant.
Ce deuxième amour m'a fait peur car il venait remettre en question le premier. Et puis finalement, non. Pas du tout. En acceptant de laisser s'exprimer la déferlante d'émotions qui y sont rattachées, ce deuxième amour n'a fait que renforcer le premier. Mon coeur dans ma poitrine ne cesse de me rappeler que je suis VIVANTE.
Et donc j'avais toujours cru et vécu que quand pour une raison ou une autre, cet Amour disparaît, est englouti, asséché, fatigué, détourné, trahi, abandonné, arrêté, c'est la vie entière qui s'écroule.
Je ne crois plus à cela. A partir d'aujourd'hui, je me DOIS d'écrire amourS au pluriel. Parce qu'il est possible d'aimer plusieurs personnes à la fois. Ces amourS sont différents, ils viennent combler des besoins distincts, ils viennent soigner des blessures variées, ils viennent aider à être plus complet, plus entier, plus vrai.
Il y a quelques mois j'ai reçu et accepté l'amour d'un homme, qui n'a rien de romantique. En sa présence je me sens connectée à lui et je me sens connectée à moi. Je le désire physiquement avec pour souhait de prendre et de donner du plaisir. En sa présence, j'ai découvert une nouvelle sensualité, une nouvelle manière de séduire et d'aimer ; j'ai découvert que je suis une être sexuée et que ma sexualité est une part importante de ma vie. Très importante. Bien plus que je ne l'avais imaginé.
Je viens de recevoir, et d'accepter l'amour d'un homme, qui n'a rien de romantique. Grâce à lui, ses yeux attentionés bleus océan posés sur les miens encore trop affairés et son sourire que j'entends me dire "il n'y a présentement personne d'autre au monde de plus important que toi", je me sens connectée au reste du monde. Je le désire physiquement avec pour souhait de fusionner, de ne plus exister qu'à travers lui, de n'être qu'un, de disparaître dans mon actuel paraître. C'est à la fois extraordinairement excitant et terrifiant.
Ce deuxième amour m'a fait peur car il venait remettre en question le premier. Et puis finalement, non. Pas du tout. En acceptant de laisser s'exprimer la déferlante d'émotions qui y sont rattachées, ce deuxième amour n'a fait que renforcer le premier. Mon coeur dans ma poitrine ne cesse de me rappeler que je suis VIVANTE.
08 August 2007
To my dear fellow backpacker
I thought our journeys ran parallel
Yours packing in and out endlessly in the open world
Mine immobile yet travelling into the realm of the inner world.
But our paths crossed, in a meeting planned by others long ago I believe.
Our odysseys were not parallel in the end.
I recognised my limits in your soft silver-like presence.
If deciphered in your ocean-like blue eyes an acutely wounded desire to be loved.
Was it yours or did I give you my heavy cloak to wear?
I beheld your beautifully affectionate smile betray a muggy loneliness difficult to shake off the confines of your fatigued armour.
Was it your weaken hand or mine holding the shield not so high up?
Your intense presence enlightened the last couple of days.
The glitter, shimmer and flicker of our encounter
Broke in through my own safety walls
Laying down in my shakily expecting heart
The most wondrous treasure of all: Love.
Love offered from an unreserved heart of yours borne up your sleeve
Not in the name of romance.
Love embraced from an opened heart of mine in need of being met.
Blessed are you, gorgeous man, for opening the door of exaltation and suffering,
Triggering further alchemical transformations. Blessed am I for holding my vulnerability in the name of truth.
As you depart for greener pastures up North
The seed of Love you sowed in my heart
I will tend and pass it on.
I cherish the day I was guided to stumble across your blog.
Yours packing in and out endlessly in the open world
Mine immobile yet travelling into the realm of the inner world.
But our paths crossed, in a meeting planned by others long ago I believe.
Our odysseys were not parallel in the end.
I recognised my limits in your soft silver-like presence.
If deciphered in your ocean-like blue eyes an acutely wounded desire to be loved.
Was it yours or did I give you my heavy cloak to wear?
I beheld your beautifully affectionate smile betray a muggy loneliness
Was it your weaken hand or mine holding the shield not so high up?
Your intense presence enlightened the last couple of days.
The glitter, shimmer and flicker of our encounter
Broke in through my own safety walls
Laying down in my shakily expecting heart
The most wondrous treasure of all: Love.
Love offered from an unreserved heart of yours borne up your sleeve
Not in the name of romance.
Love embraced from an opened heart of mine in need of being met.
Blessed are you, gorgeous man, for opening the door of exaltation and suffering,
Triggering further alchemical transformations.
As you depart for greener pastures up North
The seed of Love you sowed in my heart
I will tend and pass it on.
I cherish the day I was guided to stumble across your blog.
07 August 2007
Blind Light
Who? Antony GormleyWhat? Blind Light exhibition
Where? Hayward Gallery, London
When? Saturday 4th August, 5pm
I had no idea what to expect. I knew neither the artist's name nor the purpose or the name of the exhibition. I had seen the advertising poster in many corridors in the underground system in my everyday commute -- interesting picture by the way! I wouldn't call it quite disturbing but certainly eye catching at least. Yet not quite interesting enough to find out more about what the whole thing was about. That is until Chris talked about how he'd arrived a little late on Friday and decided to postpone it until Saturday. I think Chris as a friend, backpacking around the world who I met only a few days ago. But that's another story altogether...
But let me cut short my wanders and come back to today. I usually evaluate where I am in the space around me and finding my place around the art objects. Today was different though, as I entered reading the small booklet that I was given at the entrance, half looking around me to locate Chris who'd entered a couple of minutes before me (I had to give up my bag to the clockroom before entering...) and half trying to find out what I was about to discover.
The first thing that striked me was the cold air wrapping me in its thick sheet and the darkness of the large room contrasting with the bright beautiful sunny day that stood outside. Yet moving my eyes across the room they fell on a gigantic dark grey/black metallic structure called the "Space Station"that stood between me and a strong light coming in through a line of narrow, rectangular and high up windows. But this brightness was plain white and would not bring any warmth or life in this room...
At first I didn't think much of it all except for my usual annoyance of cold "air con" in public places and I crossed my arms over my chest to keep the cold away. I moved closer to the space station, trying to uncover its mystery and listen to its story. Giant, composed of rectangular and hollow cubes melded together in an asymetric shape, it called me closer. I felt the urge to inspect it close by, check its hollow inside through the numerous square holes cut in the cubes, observe its irragularities and I imagined a battle raging in its belly... The fear became terror and I saw the space station grow, expand in all directions to a mouth-like shape and in slow motion this ever darker mouth swallowing me, devouring me. At that time I began to feel nauseous and the cold intensified closing in on me and making it look even darker than it was, and increasing the contrast between the strong light coming in through the small windows and the darkness of the structure. I took a step back and leaned casually on the wall a few feet away, trying to recompose myself from this unexpected attack. But all I could touch was loneliness as if Dementors were sucking life out of me (to take an image that many have already in their heads thanks to Harry Potter...). The space station was ferocious, threatening and became a black hole.
I walked away quickly, had a glimpse at the next door room generously lit in a warm yellow lights but the concrete blocks standing there in rows could do nothing to appease the heavy stomach or the tears that were coming up. I therefore sat down for a period of time, turning my back to the inhospitable space station, and tried to reconnect to myself and recover my centre. I did eventually, then got up again making sure I would not look at it again while moving onto the next part of the room, much brighter.
There I started to queue to enter the "blind light box", a 10 to 15m long, square plexiglass box maybe 2 to 3m high. From the outside, I finally understood the photo of the advertising poster as I saw the hand of a person walking inside, utterly lost... Entering the box is like entering a brightly lit cloud the thickness of which I've never seen except maybe through an airplane window. You cannot see more than a foot or two feet away from your nose and get disorientated very quickly. As soon as I entered, calmness entered my breathing and my heart, and I watched into a white nothingness. Each breath took me back a little closer to myself, each step away from the space station... The water on the floor raised to the sole of my feet adding to the feeling of being outside of time and space, arrested in a world of non ordinary reality. I was bodiless, floating around yet with my feet on the ground, silent, present to my aloneness... This feeling reminded me of that I had experienced last year in an opposite situation -- living 3 days in complete darkness: restful and empty but not lonely, a peaceful solitude. The water saturated atmosphere of the box brought life to each cell with which it made contact, and by diffusion and intercellular communication dispersed it to all of them -- it was sacred water, sacred life that made me feel whole, complete, real and new, immobile and present.
Finally, we climbed up a few steps and entered a sunny room filled with "matrices". The French doors opened onto bright terraces where people warmed their bones to the much needed summer sun. A good 10 structures were awaiting us, showing the space were the body was without representing the body itself, as if being drawn in the air. It was a much lighter finish for me, in this bright room filled with air and the "non-bodies" represented exhibiting a sense of freedom yet of being prisoner of their surroundings but not too bothered about it. They could have been drawn out of a circus, jugglers maybe or acrobats, dancers, all rather distorted and in direct contact with the ordinary world but most importantly with the world of the spirits.
If I didn't know the name of this artist until Friday, I certainly will remember him now...
the morning after the night before...
The downside of feeling elated, of flying high always comes eventually...
If until yesterday I felt all powerful, hyper-confident, beautiful, riding the clouds, loveable, surfing the wave, accepting new sides of me that were previously neglected, allowing the overwhelming emotions to pour out of my every cell and loving it all.... well today is a rather different story. After the peak, here comes the trough!
I feel wide opened, chaotic, judgemental, vulnerable, sad, unprotected, exposed, unshielded, defenceless, powerless... I know my inner witch has returned with a vengeance yet I am unable to show her the door. And so I alternatively watch her objectively try to do her work before getting caught in her spider web... and the cycles start again.
At this very minute I am free of the cobweb and I can say that the experience of the weekend was worthwhile and the processing work (and love) has started in my deepest core. In the next I might be overwhelmed and wishing that the weekend had not happened at all...
If until yesterday I felt all powerful, hyper-confident, beautiful, riding the clouds, loveable, surfing the wave, accepting new sides of me that were previously neglected, allowing the overwhelming emotions to pour out of my every cell and loving it all.... well today is a rather different story. After the peak, here comes the trough!
I feel wide opened, chaotic, judgemental, vulnerable, sad, unprotected, exposed, unshielded, defenceless, powerless... I know my inner witch has returned with a vengeance yet I am unable to show her the door. And so I alternatively watch her objectively try to do her work before getting caught in her spider web... and the cycles start again.
At this very minute I am free of the cobweb and I can say that the experience of the weekend was worthwhile and the processing work (and love) has started in my deepest core. In the next I might be overwhelmed and wishing that the weekend had not happened at all...
06 August 2007
Exquisite week end
I've had a trully enthralling week end, full of twists and turns and if there was a plot, well, it never unfolded the way you'd expect in a Hollywood movie...
I was producer, director and actress in the movie being made as we went along, yet I didn't have full control of the situation as the lead male character (yet little known to me at that point) had at least as much power as I had in the movie making. I am writing the American word "movie" because I'm talking about Hollywood, but maybe I should be using the British word "film", as I was told that to an extent "film" relates to good art while "movie" contains it all, good and bad (at least that was my understanding of it). And this scenario would most definitely enter the "film" section.
As the producer, I was very much aware of the difficulties that one has to put up with, the moral barriers that cannot be crossed, the collective pressure to go with the flow and keep to wide and crowded avenues, the practical constraints that are there to stay and that cannot be avoided or forgotten, the time ticking away when a scene has to be shot again because it's not quite good enough but you know deep down that nothing better will come out of the actors at that moment...
As the director, I had scribbled down and planned a scenario, thought through the lights and pace of the opening scene, heard in my head the music accompanying the romantic encounter between the two lead characters, imagined the costumes perfectly fitting their period and status in the world, put myself in the shoes of a spectator paying his ticket entrance at the cinema door and coming to watch the finished product with a critical eye...
As the main female character, I was to follow my director's instructions given to him mostly by my producer, yet interacting and adjusting to the other part of the film, the man, without whom there would have been no scenario; I felt free and strong to behave as I wished knowing full well that I would need to report any wrongdoings in the eyes of my director and producer; it was the role of my life, experiencing all possible emotions from exhaltation to boredom, worthlessness, despair, love and excrutiating heart pain, fear and sadness... you name it, I felt it!
Of course, my difficulties, moral barriers, constraints, timing considerations were plain different to those of the male character and his own on site producer/supervisor. It cannot be helped, and negociations were to take place...
Of course, my ideas for a scenario, ambiance, interpretation and cuts were not shared by the male character's own cinema director. It cannot be helped and negociations were to take place...
Of course the realm of my emotions cannot compare to that of the male character and little of it can be said here as I have not much knowledge of it. Feelings that the emotional range experienced by him might not have been as wild as mine, but it is only my side of the story...
Would I have signed in to watch such a story? Yes, triple yes, several times. The making of it was intense, sometimes bringing all persons involved to the limit of insanity as each scene was emotionally charged to the limit.
In the end, the finished product gave a snapshot without a beginning or an end showing the meeting of a man and a woman on a dance floor, their paths crossing again in a big city over the course of a few days before parting at rush hour in an underground station. Plain, simple. Yet not "Before sunrise".
(Disclaimer: I cannot speak for the persons involved with the lead male character and you will have to keep in mind and accept that this view is extremely partial)
I was producer, director and actress in the movie being made as we went along, yet I didn't have full control of the situation as the lead male character (yet little known to me at that point) had at least as much power as I had in the movie making. I am writing the American word "movie" because I'm talking about Hollywood, but maybe I should be using the British word "film", as I was told that to an extent "film" relates to good art while "movie" contains it all, good and bad (at least that was my understanding of it). And this scenario would most definitely enter the "film" section.
As the producer, I was very much aware of the difficulties that one has to put up with, the moral barriers that cannot be crossed, the collective pressure to go with the flow and keep to wide and crowded avenues, the practical constraints that are there to stay and that cannot be avoided or forgotten, the time ticking away when a scene has to be shot again because it's not quite good enough but you know deep down that nothing better will come out of the actors at that moment...
As the director, I had scribbled down and planned a scenario, thought through the lights and pace of the opening scene, heard in my head the music accompanying the romantic encounter between the two lead characters, imagined the costumes perfectly fitting their period and status in the world, put myself in the shoes of a spectator paying his ticket entrance at the cinema door and coming to watch the finished product with a critical eye...
As the main female character, I was to follow my director's instructions given to him mostly by my producer, yet interacting and adjusting to the other part of the film, the man, without whom there would have been no scenario; I felt free and strong to behave as I wished knowing full well that I would need to report any wrongdoings in the eyes of my director and producer; it was the role of my life, experiencing all possible emotions from exhaltation to boredom, worthlessness, despair, love and excrutiating heart pain, fear and sadness... you name it, I felt it!
Of course, my difficulties, moral barriers, constraints, timing considerations were plain different to those of the male character and his own on site producer/supervisor. It cannot be helped, and negociations were to take place...
Of course, my ideas for a scenario, ambiance, interpretation and cuts were not shared by the male character's own cinema director. It cannot be helped and negociations were to take place...
Of course the realm of my emotions cannot compare to that of the male character and little of it can be said here as I have not much knowledge of it. Feelings that the emotional range experienced by him might not have been as wild as mine, but it is only my side of the story...
Would I have signed in to watch such a story? Yes, triple yes, several times. The making of it was intense, sometimes bringing all persons involved to the limit of insanity as each scene was emotionally charged to the limit.
In the end, the finished product gave a snapshot without a beginning or an end showing the meeting of a man and a woman on a dance floor, their paths crossing again in a big city over the course of a few days before parting at rush hour in an underground station. Plain, simple. Yet not "Before sunrise".
(Disclaimer: I cannot speak for the persons involved with the lead male character and you will have to keep in mind and accept that this view is extremely partial)
01 August 2007
Regression and awareness
I miss P.
He doesn't get in touch often enough to my liking.
I think of him at work.
I imagine what I'll say to him when I see him.
Then my friend R. calls.
I tell her that it is hard.
That I miss him.
But that things are great when we meet.
And so it's ok for a few days.
Then I miss him.
I think of him at work.
She talks to me about H.
For a short while I wonder why I complain.
She hungs up.
I decide to write to her. An email. To expand a little more.
Because I haven't said enough on the phone.
I said it hurts.
Then BAM!! A slap across my face!
It hurts not because I miss him.
It hurts because of my personal story/history.
Silence creates longing.
I feel in love.
In love with the longing.
In love with the suffering.
Because then I'm not lonely.
There's the suffering.
It's a blessing.
Or so I thought for many long years.
I feel tired. Exhausted.
I only want to be in bed.
I need to sleep.
I need to forget.
I need to hide.
I need to feel sorry for myself.
So that he'll come as the Prince Charming .
So that he'll love me.
STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!!
I would like to hear from P.
Yet I can mother and nurture myself.
I want to stay alive when he doesn't keep in touch.
It hurts and that belongs to me.
I don't send the email to R.
He doesn't get in touch often enough to my liking.
I think of him at work.
I imagine what I'll say to him when I see him.
Then my friend R. calls.
I tell her that it is hard.
That I miss him.
But that things are great when we meet.
And so it's ok for a few days.
Then I miss him.
I think of him at work.
She talks to me about H.
For a short while I wonder why I complain.
She hungs up.
I decide to write to her. An email. To expand a little more.
Because I haven't said enough on the phone.
I said it hurts.
Then BAM!! A slap across my face!
It hurts not because I miss him.
It hurts because of my personal story/history.
Silence creates longing.
I feel in love.
In love with the longing.
In love with the suffering.
Because then I'm not lonely.
There's the suffering.
It's a blessing.
Or so I thought for many long years.
I feel tired. Exhausted.
I only want to be in bed.
I need to sleep.
I need to forget.
I need to hide.
I need to feel sorry for myself.
So that he'll come as the Prince Charming .
So that he'll love me.
STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!!
I would like to hear from P.
Yet I can mother and nurture myself.
I want to stay alive when he doesn't keep in touch.
It hurts and that belongs to me.
I don't send the email to R.
31 July 2007
disabled
My unconscious told me via a dream that I am a young disabled girl that needs special hard shoes to help her fragile and thin legs carry her body. In the same dream, my younger sister is helping open the shoes while all I can do is cry over my grand-mother dying and wishing to see me...
Something happened on Friday. I believe several things happened and two of them are pretty clear in my mind. Delays of various sorts, all making me late for my appointments with my analyst, had been coming back on a regular basis. They coincided with his latest move and he came up with some interesting theory - the dynamic had changed and I am resistant to it...
I told P. that I liked him more and more but hadn't got any hidden agenda for us, that I didn't know what I wanted for my future. His reaction was, "good, because I don't know if I'll be here or back home"... that hurt more than I expected, more than I wanted.
I am not surprised that exhaustion hit me as soon as Saturday morning, yet not preventing me to go to my good friends' birthday party or to meet P. on Sunday evening for a couple of hours in a park on the other side of London. Today's dream, though, shows that it is not simple exhaustion. It is terror of being hurt (again?), the terrifying prospect of having to grow up, of having to put up these shoes that would carry my body so that eventually I would get stronger and not need help to walk. The dream shows that my sister, my helpful shadow, is ready for it while I'm still turned to the past and mourning the death of a needy mother figure. I feel guilty about turning away from the image of the grand-mother in need, yet it also feels to me that the future lies in nurturing the disabled young girl within...
(Of course, these are dream images, I very much like my grand-mother, who is in real life slowly going away from our world and I go and see her as often as I can)
I am taking my disabled young girl into my dance class tonight with the intention of supporting her for as long as needed... I'm scared and excited...
Something happened on Friday. I believe several things happened and two of them are pretty clear in my mind. Delays of various sorts, all making me late for my appointments with my analyst, had been coming back on a regular basis. They coincided with his latest move and he came up with some interesting theory - the dynamic had changed and I am resistant to it...
I told P. that I liked him more and more but hadn't got any hidden agenda for us, that I didn't know what I wanted for my future. His reaction was, "good, because I don't know if I'll be here or back home"... that hurt more than I expected, more than I wanted.
I am not surprised that exhaustion hit me as soon as Saturday morning, yet not preventing me to go to my good friends' birthday party or to meet P. on Sunday evening for a couple of hours in a park on the other side of London. Today's dream, though, shows that it is not simple exhaustion. It is terror of being hurt (again?), the terrifying prospect of having to grow up, of having to put up these shoes that would carry my body so that eventually I would get stronger and not need help to walk. The dream shows that my sister, my helpful shadow, is ready for it while I'm still turned to the past and mourning the death of a needy mother figure. I feel guilty about turning away from the image of the grand-mother in need, yet it also feels to me that the future lies in nurturing the disabled young girl within...
(Of course, these are dream images, I very much like my grand-mother, who is in real life slowly going away from our world and I go and see her as often as I can)
I am taking my disabled young girl into my dance class tonight with the intention of supporting her for as long as needed... I'm scared and excited...
29 July 2007
Exhaustion
Yes, it had to hit me eventually because I was living on adrenalin for the last two to three weeks. Not enough sleep and listening to neither my body nor my soul exhaustion caught up with me yesterday after a combination of circomstances gathered together.
Small disappointments and long term nagging anxieties that finally broke through to consciousness, coupled with a rare Saturday lie in and the beginning of my period has simply flatenned me out... I have had no choice than to look reality in the eyes and accept that I am running out of battery. And so after having felt hangovered all day yesterday I am currently feeling weak and feverish-like.
I guess I've got no other choice than listen to my body and take time to integrate the emotions that sprang up out in the open in the last two days.
Small disappointments and long term nagging anxieties that finally broke through to consciousness, coupled with a rare Saturday lie in and the beginning of my period has simply flatenned me out... I have had no choice than to look reality in the eyes and accept that I am running out of battery. And so after having felt hangovered all day yesterday I am currently feeling weak and feverish-like.
I guess I've got no other choice than listen to my body and take time to integrate the emotions that sprang up out in the open in the last two days.
24 July 2007
excuses for not being faithful to my blog at the moment...
I've been away from my computer far too long... I miss writing what's going on in my life, and there's quite a bit happening... and positive things, too... Yet I can't seem to find any time for myself, any time to sit down and write...
But I've got two good excuses. Well, it's for you to judge... For one, my nephew of 17 has arrived in London 2 weeks ago today and we've spent quite a bit of time together. He's fun and friendly. He stays at mine for a month, was trying to look for a summer job and then started to enjoy his time in my flat on my computer chatting with his mates and following the Tour de France online (he's frustrated that it's not on tv in the UK!!). I've also tried to continue to have my own life. If I find it difficult, I'm working on it and it is actually a blessing that he's here... I would need more time and quietness to really untangle the feelings and make them flow in sentences on this screen, so t won't be for tonight, because - and that's my second excuse: I've started the last Harry Potter on Sunday night, and working full time, I tend to fill every spare minute to its reading...
As soon as it's over, I'll be back on a more regular basis.
But I've got two good excuses. Well, it's for you to judge... For one, my nephew of 17 has arrived in London 2 weeks ago today and we've spent quite a bit of time together. He's fun and friendly. He stays at mine for a month, was trying to look for a summer job and then started to enjoy his time in my flat on my computer chatting with his mates and following the Tour de France online (he's frustrated that it's not on tv in the UK!!). I've also tried to continue to have my own life. If I find it difficult, I'm working on it and it is actually a blessing that he's here... I would need more time and quietness to really untangle the feelings and make them flow in sentences on this screen, so t won't be for tonight, because - and that's my second excuse: I've started the last Harry Potter on Sunday night, and working full time, I tend to fill every spare minute to its reading...
As soon as it's over, I'll be back on a more regular basis.
17 July 2007
New beginnings
It will have taken longer than expected but here I am translating the "recent" post "nouveau départ". No surprise there, everything takes longer than expected...So much so that I needed over 350 hours of analytical psychotherapy, 700 hours of commuting to and from the analysis room, 200 hours of 5Rhythms ecstatic dance and meditation practice, a handful of retreats in complete darkness (Darkness visible) , shamanism, tantra, vipassana... and a total financial comitment that I've never even attempted to calculate, to feel and breathe the most ancient truths of all! Yet it felt entirely new to me... Have you ever read "the alchemist"??? That's how it feels today!
"My journey is neither a way to make me a better or the perfect person nor a process fasttracking me to a more restful place where I'd be done with it all"
I faced this truth, knew that there is no perfection and it was ok. I knew there is no such place and didn't fall apart. Quite the opposite!
I've got nothing to prove, I don't need to strive to be the best, the cleverest, the prettiest, the funniest, the most caring, the most daring or most reliable... What freedom to just be myself at any given time, always evolving, never the finished product! What delight to be allowed to make mistakes, to not be perfect! What satisfaction to write with a pencil and allow myself to erase and start again! What fun to feel I can surprise others!
Are you wondering where these new beginnings are coming from? There's not much of those so far... Well, there's nothing new withing myself either. I knew all this, in my head and I kept repeating all this to anyone willing to listen (and also those who were not...) I was convinced of all this so much so that others HAD TO be convinced, too... It's during the 701st hour on the tube that the truth hit me hard; it came and blew out the metal door that kept my heart in jail (but also safe from any risk of being hurt!). That was a few days ago and since then, the door has shut again. But this time, it is a friendly wooden door that protects not keeps in jail.
It feels that I am entering a new journey; I've turned the page and face a new blank chapter that will take me... where it will take me. I'll know the destination when I get there and then, I'll keep you updated. In the meantime, I wish myself good luck.
16 July 2007
14 juillet 2007
Je voudrais dire un grand merci à ma "vieille" copine Sandra (oups, elle va pas être très contente de cet adjectif...) car elle m'a donné l'occasion de passer mon premier 14 juillet en France depuis de longues années. En fait, elle est pas si vieille, mais on se connaît depuis 10 ans ! (on a fait le compte justement ce weekend). Alors merci Sandra d'avoir décidé de te marier et de fêter ton enterrement de vie de jeune fille à Lille un 14 juillet.
J'ai retrouvé un peu de la fibre qui fait de moi que je suis française. C'est en m'équarquillant les yeux pour y faire rentrer encore plus de belles couleurs sonores des fusées du feu d'artifice que j'ai soudain senti l'importance de fêter ce "Bastille Day" comme ils disent au Royaume-Uni. Ces longues années outre-Manche m'avait fait oublié que ce n'est pas simplement un jour férié dans le calendrier, mais bien une façon de célébrer la République.
Et un grand merci à Peggy pour l'organisation sans faute de ce weekend dépaysant et épuisant et qui m'aura permis de découvrir des artistes locaux qui montent. L'un, Romain Lefèvre, qui me semble (de ce Londres lointain) être bien dans la tendance et le style des chanteurs français trentenaires ayant explosé au cours des 5 ou 7 dernières années. Des rythmes simples, voire répétitifs, une guitare sèche, pas de frou-frou et des textes touchants et justes.
L'autre, un quinquette, "Swingin' partout", formée d'un violon, deux guitares, une contre-basse et une batterie. Infatigables, une présence, un swing, une virtuosité, une bonne humeur.... un seul mot : extraordinaire!! Je n'ai malheureusement pas réussi à trouver une vidéo du groupe...
Sans oublier la Deûle, la péniche, la guinguette de la marine, les quelques bières ch'ti, la boucherie... "engagez-vous rengagez-vous qu'ils disaient". Ce bar/boîte de nuit n'a pas fermé jusqu'au bout de la nuit. Il a fallu qu'on déclare forfait !!! à 6h30 du mat', histoire d'aller se masser les pieds, le dos, boire un coup d'eau, visiter le marché de Wazennes dès l'ouverture, sans oublier le petit déj' de rigueur avant d'aller s'allonger pour un repose bien mérité. Mais non, ce n'était pas fini puisque nous avons également eu droit au moule-frite de rigueur!
Demain j'ai pris ma journée pour récupérer...
J'ai retrouvé un peu de la fibre qui fait de moi que je suis française. C'est en m'équarquillant les yeux pour y faire rentrer encore plus de belles couleurs sonores des fusées du feu d'artifice que j'ai soudain senti l'importance de fêter ce "Bastille Day" comme ils disent au Royaume-Uni. Ces longues années outre-Manche m'avait fait oublié que ce n'est pas simplement un jour férié dans le calendrier, mais bien une façon de célébrer la République.
Et un grand merci à Peggy pour l'organisation sans faute de ce weekend dépaysant et épuisant et qui m'aura permis de découvrir des artistes locaux qui montent. L'un, Romain Lefèvre, qui me semble (de ce Londres lointain) être bien dans la tendance et le style des chanteurs français trentenaires ayant explosé au cours des 5 ou 7 dernières années. Des rythmes simples, voire répétitifs, une guitare sèche, pas de frou-frou et des textes touchants et justes.
L'autre, un quinquette, "Swingin' partout", formée d'un violon, deux guitares, une contre-basse et une batterie. Infatigables, une présence, un swing, une virtuosité, une bonne humeur.... un seul mot : extraordinaire!! Je n'ai malheureusement pas réussi à trouver une vidéo du groupe...
Sans oublier la Deûle, la péniche, la guinguette de la marine, les quelques bières ch'ti, la boucherie... "engagez-vous rengagez-vous qu'ils disaient". Ce bar/boîte de nuit n'a pas fermé jusqu'au bout de la nuit. Il a fallu qu'on déclare forfait !!! à 6h30 du mat', histoire d'aller se masser les pieds, le dos, boire un coup d'eau, visiter le marché de Wazennes dès l'ouverture, sans oublier le petit déj' de rigueur avant d'aller s'allonger pour un repose bien mérité. Mais non, ce n'était pas fini puisque nous avons également eu droit au moule-frite de rigueur!
Demain j'ai pris ma journée pour récupérer...
10 July 2007
New beginnings
My last post is in French as it is tha way it came out... Please bear with me as I feel that it needs translated. So it'll be done soon but not tonight!
Nouveau départ
Il aura fallu presque 350 heures d'analyse, près de 700 heures de transports en commun d'un bout à l'autre de la ville, 200 heures de méditation en mouvement (5Rhythms), une grosse poignée de retraites dans le noir complet pendant plusieurs jours, de chamanisme, de tantra, de méditation sans mouvement et dans le silence, et un budget total que je n'ai jamais cherché à connaître, pour me trouver nez-à-nez avec une vérité vieille comme le monde et pourtant entièrement nouvelle...
"Mon cheminement n'est ni un tremplin pour battre mes propres records et vaincre une barre toujours placée toujours plus haut, ni un simple moyen d'arriver quelque part (et tant qu'à faire le plus vite possible...), où que soit ce quelque part !"
J'ai touché du doigt que je n'arriverai jamais, sans pour autant me brûler. J'ai découvert qu'il n'y a pas de ligne d'arrivée, et cela ne m'a pas épuisée.
Bien au contraire ! Je n'ai rien à prouver, je n'ai pas à tenter d'être la meilleure, la plus rapide, la plus intelligente, la plus jolie, la plus drôle, la plus attentionnée... Quelle liberté de pouvoir juste être le moi en devenir, sans cesse en devenir, jamais complètement finie ! Quelle joie de pouvoir s'autoriser à faire des erreurs, à n'être pas parfaite ! Quel plaisir de pouvoir écrire au crayon, et de pouvoir gommer, effacer et tout recommencer ! Quelle légèreté de pouvoir surprendre !
Alors, oui, bien-sûr, vous vous demandez... Y a rien d'bien neuf dans tout ça, il est où ce nouveau départ ? Bien entendu, je savais tout cela, je le savais dans ma tête, et je le répétais à qui voulait l'entendre, j'en étais convaincue depuis bien longtemps et je tentais par tous les moyens de convaincre tous autour de moi. Mais c'est dans cette 701ème heure de métro londonien que cette vérité à finalement démonté la porte blindée derrière laquelle mon coeur était prisonier (mais aussi bien à l'abri de tout risque d'être malmené!) Et depuis, vous allez me demander? La porte s'est refermée, mais une porte de protection, pas une porte de prison.
Je démarre donc une nouvelle journée, m'engage sur une nouvelle page blanche pour un nouveau chapitre, qui me mènera... où il me mènera. Je le saurai quand j'y serai et alors je vous tiendrai au courant! Je me souhaite bon vent !
"Mon cheminement n'est ni un tremplin pour battre mes propres records et vaincre une barre toujours placée toujours plus haut, ni un simple moyen d'arriver quelque part (et tant qu'à faire le plus vite possible...), où que soit ce quelque part !"
J'ai touché du doigt que je n'arriverai jamais, sans pour autant me brûler. J'ai découvert qu'il n'y a pas de ligne d'arrivée, et cela ne m'a pas épuisée.
Bien au contraire ! Je n'ai rien à prouver, je n'ai pas à tenter d'être la meilleure, la plus rapide, la plus intelligente, la plus jolie, la plus drôle, la plus attentionnée... Quelle liberté de pouvoir juste être le moi en devenir, sans cesse en devenir, jamais complètement finie ! Quelle joie de pouvoir s'autoriser à faire des erreurs, à n'être pas parfaite ! Quel plaisir de pouvoir écrire au crayon, et de pouvoir gommer, effacer et tout recommencer ! Quelle légèreté de pouvoir surprendre !
Alors, oui, bien-sûr, vous vous demandez... Y a rien d'bien neuf dans tout ça, il est où ce nouveau départ ? Bien entendu, je savais tout cela, je le savais dans ma tête, et je le répétais à qui voulait l'entendre, j'en étais convaincue depuis bien longtemps et je tentais par tous les moyens de convaincre tous autour de moi. Mais c'est dans cette 701ème heure de métro londonien que cette vérité à finalement démonté la porte blindée derrière laquelle mon coeur était prisonier (mais aussi bien à l'abri de tout risque d'être malmené!) Et depuis, vous allez me demander? La porte s'est refermée, mais une porte de protection, pas une porte de prison.
Je démarre donc une nouvelle journée, m'engage sur une nouvelle page blanche pour un nouveau chapitre, qui me mènera... où il me mènera. Je le saurai quand j'y serai et alors je vous tiendrai au courant! Je me souhaite bon vent !
05 July 2007
Tarot card
I wish I wrote more and yet, I've got no words these days. Do I find it frustrating? Yes in many ways because I've got so much to say, to cry, to shout, to murmur, to come out... But it also gives me time to do other things, like reading instead. At this time I've dived into "The last temptation" by Nikos Kazantzakis. Recommended reading, so much better than Scorsese's "Last temptation of Christ"!!
It also has given me time to find out which Tarot card I am which I discovered on Sarananda's blog, in a post called "You are the world". And so tonight, here I am:
Click here if you want to know for yourself
It also has given me time to find out which Tarot card I am which I discovered on Sarananda's blog, in a post called "You are the world". And so tonight, here I am:
The Hierophant
Divine Wisdom. Manifestation. Explanation. Teaching. All things relating to education, patience, help from superiors.The Hierophant is often considered to be a Guardian Angel.
The Hierophant's purpose is to bring the spiritual down to Earth. Where the High Priestess between her two pillars deals with realms beyond this Earth, the Hierophant (or High Priest) deals with worldly problems. He is well suited to do this because he strives to create harmony and peace in the midst of a crisis. The Hierophant's only problem is that he can be stubborn and hidebound. At his best, he is wise and soothing, at his worst, he is an unbending traditionalist. Divine Wisdom. Manifestation. Explanation. Teaching. All things relating to education, patience, help from superiors.The Hierophant is often considered to be a Guardian Angel.
Click here if you want to know for yourself
29 June 2007
A sense of disbelief
I've heard some sad and shocking news yesterday. A friend from my early years in London called to say that a common friend had died a week before of a brain haemorrage. He was only 39 years old.
He was the other French person in the neuroscience lab when my English was more than limited. He was a nice bloke talking too much, showing off a bit too much. He was good at science and I believe he could have been excellent had he worked a little more. Yet he made it in a very competitive field, joining an excellent group in Stanford University, being offered a position in Toronto before moving back to Europe and Italy.
I had lost contact with him long ago but this news was a massive shock to me. It opened my eyes on the fact that I am coming to the age where these kinds of accidents are not unheard of. Suddenly I felt my age, together with a sense of unjustice. He was too young for this to happen! I feel deeply saddened and full of compassion for his widow staying behind, in pain.
Rest in peace JD wherever you are and whoever you're with. You weren't my best friend but our paths crossed for a few years and there'll always be memories of you in my heart.
He was the other French person in the neuroscience lab when my English was more than limited. He was a nice bloke talking too much, showing off a bit too much. He was good at science and I believe he could have been excellent had he worked a little more. Yet he made it in a very competitive field, joining an excellent group in Stanford University, being offered a position in Toronto before moving back to Europe and Italy.
I had lost contact with him long ago but this news was a massive shock to me. It opened my eyes on the fact that I am coming to the age where these kinds of accidents are not unheard of. Suddenly I felt my age, together with a sense of unjustice. He was too young for this to happen! I feel deeply saddened and full of compassion for his widow staying behind, in pain.
Rest in peace JD wherever you are and whoever you're with. You weren't my best friend but our paths crossed for a few years and there'll always be memories of you in my heart.
28 June 2007
Preparing for the storm
Yes, the forecast predicts a storm. The sky has already darkened, the wind is picking up speed, the first drops of rain have it hit my face as a warning, the clouds draw this letters in the sky: BE PREPARED
And so I am starting the preparation. Nothing about putting away items I love or those I'm attached to. I'm making preparation for myself without knowing what to do. I suppose I could keep safe and stay in, close the shutters and lock the doors until it has gone. But I have done that many times. And so I'll go out and feel the raw and forgotten elements and emotions.
No wellies
No waterproofs
I'll need to feel and accept its full strength, bend, hold on
Something tells me that I will come through more humble, more compassionate and more free
And so I am starting the preparation. Nothing about putting away items I love or those I'm attached to. I'm making preparation for myself without knowing what to do. I suppose I could keep safe and stay in, close the shutters and lock the doors until it has gone. But I have done that many times. And so I'll go out and feel the raw and forgotten elements and emotions.
No wellies
No waterproofs
I'll need to feel and accept its full strength, bend, hold on
Something tells me that I will come through more humble, more compassionate and more free
27 June 2007
The blue child - l'enfant bleu
Vulnerable
but a voice within couldn't care less
actually, no, it's not true, the voice within cares so much
that it wants to spear me, destroy me...
Determined
but a hand takes the remote control and turns the TV on
the noise
makes the determination melt...
Brave
but terrified by the overwhelming feeling of guilt emerging
masking
the forbidden anger - not anger - underlying rage
Exhausted
but proud to have stood firm in the storm
yet knowing
that I'm only in the safety of its eye
but a voice within couldn't care less
actually, no, it's not true, the voice within cares so much
that it wants to spear me, destroy me...
Determined
but a hand takes the remote control and turns the TV on
the noise
makes the determination melt...
Brave
but terrified by the overwhelming feeling of guilt emerging
masking
the forbidden anger - not anger - underlying rage
Exhausted
but proud to have stood firm in the storm
yet knowing
that I'm only in the safety of its eye
25 June 2007
slowly seems to be the hardest word...
(source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Snail-WA_edit02.jpg)
April and May have moved fast. Very fast. At least in some ways. But somehow life made sure that I slowed down, from running to slow motion to sometimes stop and contemplate. Turn around and watch if I've ever left something behind...
Most recently, today in fact, I started to ask questions about choices I've made in these last 2 months and a bit. In particular regarding the flat I'm buying... To recap quickly, I've made an offer on a one-bed flat in mid April that was immediately accepted. At the time, I thought, "cool, it's going to be quick"! The mortgage offer was at last finalised last week and I received all the paperwork at the weekend. I was really excited. After weeks of standstill, things were moving again and the solicitor was doing her part and exchange would happen "soon"... well not quite! I quickly realised, even knowing nothing about mortgages that the lender had given me a mortgage I did not want... I waited until this morning to call my mortgage broker (I couldn't possibly call him at the weekend, I'm too nice...) to learn 1. that he had been working all weekend and 2. that it was easy to swap for the one I wanted. Good day then, no?
Hang on here, the soap isn't finished. I'm sure even the worst TV soap wouldn't go down that road... but I got an email from my solicitor saying that there may be problems with the garden and the front porch that not only aren't on the lease but this latter doesn't even state that I have exclusive use of them. I must say, I don't really fancy coming back home to find half a dozen people having a drink at my front door - even if this is unlikely!
As I went to my dance class, I contemplated the idea that maybe all these obstacles were put in front of me to say "don't buy this flat" or that I was being tested. My good friend Cathy said, "Maybe you've got to really make your mind whether London/the UK is your place"... I thought that I'd had the answer for a few months already, and that it was YES.
In the dance, two things sprang to my mind. First that all these obstacles were there not to push me away and make me change my mind, but to slow me down and keep me grounded. "Your life is changing, but hey, clairem, keep it slow and take time to digest, process and enjoy!" Secondly, I'd been contemplating the idea of training as a massage therapist for a while now and the thought came up, "asking whether I can afford it is the wrong question. The question is, can I afford not to train?" and to this, the question was NO.
Slow down, slow down, breather and slow down...
24 June 2007
new photos
The good thing about the stats (or should I say ONE of the good things about the stats) in Blogorama is that I've found out that quite a few people go and check my photos in flickr.
And because it's been a lovely rainy and rather cold weekend, I'm pleased to announce that I've uploaded some more!! You'll find some additional pictures from the North America-1995 trip and some from Bangkok and Cambodia, a 2-week trip as the UN had just entered the country in 1993. There are also a couple more on London.
Enjoy!
And because it's been a lovely rainy and rather cold weekend, I'm pleased to announce that I've uploaded some more!! You'll find some additional pictures from the North America-1995 trip and some from Bangkok and Cambodia, a 2-week trip as the UN had just entered the country in 1993. There are also a couple more on London.
Enjoy!
23 June 2007
It's all about being seen...
When I first started my blog I didn't mind not having readers. It was about writing and "getting it out of my chest" sort of thing. But let's be honest: it is nice to have readers, comments, from those who just pass by and don't stay because it's not their cup of tea and from those who come back regularly because they find their bread and butter in our words...
So when I just find out about this viralink thing on A modern Goddess Online, I went to the creator's website to see how this thing works and I just loved Andy's "chemical structures" showing the growing networking... so I thought I'd give it a go. It's all about being seen and coming as close to the top of the page as possible!
Here are the instructions
Below is a matrix of 100 stars, I have already added a link to my blog onto one of the stars, all you need to do is copy and paste the grid into your blog and add your own link to one of the other spare stars, and tell others to do the same!
So when I just find out about this viralink thing on A modern Goddess Online, I went to the creator's website to see how this thing works and I just loved Andy's "chemical structures" showing the growing networking... so I thought I'd give it a go. It's all about being seen and coming as close to the top of the page as possible!
Here are the instructions
Below is a matrix of 100 stars, I have already added a link to my blog onto one of the stars, all you need to do is copy and paste the grid into your blog and add your own link to one of the other spare stars, and tell others to do the same!
Viralink
********************
********************
********************
********************
********************
22 June 2007
Still shaken
Something happened 2 days ago and I'm still wondering what to do about it... Rewind.
I received a short video on my personnal email at work and as it was funny and about rugby I forwarded it to two of my colleagues I know would enjoy it. A couple of minutes later, I jumped on my chair as one of them says, "that's your blog!". My heart skipped a beat then raced away to catch up with that missing one... I had forwarded the email quickly and left my signature at the bottom of it. And it includes my blog's link!
I was left speechless. It was so obvious that she offered not to look at it. A voice within was screaming, "don't, please don't and genuinely forget about it!" This place is very much my own private garden and I don't mind unknown people, invited friends and family reading my posts and discover who I am as I go along but not work colleagues, however close we can be. Somehow my reaction made me realise how much I hide all this from people at work and how much I put a mask on every morning when I pass the door...
I feel she could read me like an open book and I'm terrified that it could hit me back and I would get hurt. In a way I don't feel strong enough to show my inner life, I feel very tender inside and vulnerable and this is no time to being hurt. Yet this "mistake" happened and I can't help thinking that there might be a reason for it. Maybe I am ready to take the mask off for good? Right now I'm torn and we haven't come back to that subject. Do we need to? Do I need to know whether she reads me or not? I've got no idea... I guess I'll leave it at that for now, unless or until something else happened!!
I received a short video on my personnal email at work and as it was funny and about rugby I forwarded it to two of my colleagues I know would enjoy it. A couple of minutes later, I jumped on my chair as one of them says, "that's your blog!". My heart skipped a beat then raced away to catch up with that missing one... I had forwarded the email quickly and left my signature at the bottom of it. And it includes my blog's link!
I was left speechless. It was so obvious that she offered not to look at it. A voice within was screaming, "don't, please don't and genuinely forget about it!" This place is very much my own private garden and I don't mind unknown people, invited friends and family reading my posts and discover who I am as I go along but not work colleagues, however close we can be. Somehow my reaction made me realise how much I hide all this from people at work and how much I put a mask on every morning when I pass the door...
I feel she could read me like an open book and I'm terrified that it could hit me back and I would get hurt. In a way I don't feel strong enough to show my inner life, I feel very tender inside and vulnerable and this is no time to being hurt. Yet this "mistake" happened and I can't help thinking that there might be a reason for it. Maybe I am ready to take the mask off for good? Right now I'm torn and we haven't come back to that subject. Do we need to? Do I need to know whether she reads me or not? I've got no idea... I guess I'll leave it at that for now, unless or until something else happened!!
21 June 2007
Music day / fête de la musique
Today is the summer solstice, the longest time of daylight in the year, the start of a new season that will (hopefully) bear the fruits of all the transformations, hard work, emotions we went through and experienced over the previous spring season.
Does it really matter if it is warm and sunny outside as long as it is within allowing the fruits to ripen? Of course it'd be nicer to see blue skyes, to leave the jacket in the cupboard, to go home late in the evening and meet people having a chat on their doorstep rather than being locked in behind their doors...
Today was summer solstice and it was the third "fête de la musique" in London. A celebration as we enter summer. Born in 1982 in France, it has become increasingly popular and I've heard now exists in 43 countries. According to Wikipedia, New York City was having its first one today! Never too late to bring good things in the US, even if French!
I remember the ones in France many moons ago. Anyone and everyone out in all cities, towns or villages either listening or playing, singing or dancing or laughing, really celebrating summer and music. People would get their "reserved" area (on a first come first serve basis!) on a pavement, in the corner of a square and they would start playing. There was no rule, you just couldn't get it wrong. You'd hear the 5 years old child and 20m away a group of late teenagers playing hard-rock music; carry on walking to the next street and that would become a quatuor or a choir of gospels; stop for a while if you like it, move on when you've had enough or if your legs need exercice and you'll hear religious songs before the encounter with the most fashionable rapper you've ever seen in you rlife... and the list goes on until late during the night when small groups gather together, sit down, give cigarettes to each other and feel that really, that night was even better than all previous years put together! Of course, it'll be true next year, too... What beauty, hey!
This 3rd edition in London was my first and maybe because I didn't open my heart to it, I was disappointed. Everything was extremely well organised, marquees were put up, sound systems tested, programmes were followed to the minute, you knew exactly what to expect, even the lack of enthusiasm (at least where I was tonight...). I know things are become so huge in France that programmes are put out, too with big names and professionals, too. But you'll always find that "French flair" or wild side in it that surprises you somehow and draws a smile on your face and imprints a memory in your brain. I missed that tonight!
I might take the Eurostar to Paris or Lille next year!
Does it really matter if it is warm and sunny outside as long as it is within allowing the fruits to ripen? Of course it'd be nicer to see blue skyes, to leave the jacket in the cupboard, to go home late in the evening and meet people having a chat on their doorstep rather than being locked in behind their doors...
Today was summer solstice and it was the third "fête de la musique" in London. A celebration as we enter summer. Born in 1982 in France, it has become increasingly popular and I've heard now exists in 43 countries. According to Wikipedia, New York City was having its first one today! Never too late to bring good things in the US, even if French!
I remember the ones in France many moons ago. Anyone and everyone out in all cities, towns or villages either listening or playing, singing or dancing or laughing, really celebrating summer and music. People would get their "reserved" area (on a first come first serve basis!) on a pavement, in the corner of a square and they would start playing. There was no rule, you just couldn't get it wrong. You'd hear the 5 years old child and 20m away a group of late teenagers playing hard-rock music; carry on walking to the next street and that would become a quatuor or a choir of gospels; stop for a while if you like it, move on when you've had enough or if your legs need exercice and you'll hear religious songs before the encounter with the most fashionable rapper you've ever seen in you rlife... and the list goes on until late during the night when small groups gather together, sit down, give cigarettes to each other and feel that really, that night was even better than all previous years put together! Of course, it'll be true next year, too... What beauty, hey!
This 3rd edition in London was my first and maybe because I didn't open my heart to it, I was disappointed. Everything was extremely well organised, marquees were put up, sound systems tested, programmes were followed to the minute, you knew exactly what to expect, even the lack of enthusiasm (at least where I was tonight...). I know things are become so huge in France that programmes are put out, too with big names and professionals, too. But you'll always find that "French flair" or wild side in it that surprises you somehow and draws a smile on your face and imprints a memory in your brain. I missed that tonight!
I might take the Eurostar to Paris or Lille next year!
19 June 2007
Dans mon coeur
Dans mes souvenirs les plus vivants
elle a toujours été là
pour offrir
le carambar interdit par les parents
pour jouer
à la crapette inlassablement
faire cuire
un vrai chocolat chaud la nuit du nouvel an
pour envoyer
à chaque anniversaire un petit mot écrit si gentillement
Dans la vie d'hier, d'aujoud'hui et de demain
elle est toujours là
pour entendre
d'une oreille attentive les secrets des uns et des autres sortis de l'ombre
pour tenir
ses promesses et un silence d'outre-tombe
pour poser
les questions auxquelles on n'a pas forcément envie de répondre
pour s'inquiéter
que tout va pour le mieux dans le meilleur des mondes
Après avoir retrouver tous nos ancêtres et bon-papa
elle sera toujours là
pour prêter
un sourire ou une main tendue dans les moments de détresse
pour m'aider
à sortir d'une récurrente tristesse
pour me rappeler
que sur mon chemin il y aura toujours une déesse
pour ouvrir
son bric-à-brac de cabas qui bédorde de tendresse
elle a toujours été là
pour offrir
le carambar interdit par les parents
pour jouer
à la crapette inlassablement
faire cuire
un vrai chocolat chaud la nuit du nouvel an
pour envoyer
à chaque anniversaire un petit mot écrit si gentillement
Dans la vie d'hier, d'aujoud'hui et de demain
elle est toujours là
pour entendre
d'une oreille attentive les secrets des uns et des autres sortis de l'ombre
pour tenir
ses promesses et un silence d'outre-tombe
pour poser
les questions auxquelles on n'a pas forcément envie de répondre
pour s'inquiéter
que tout va pour le mieux dans le meilleur des mondes
Après avoir retrouver tous nos ancêtres et bon-papa
elle sera toujours là
pour prêter
un sourire ou une main tendue dans les moments de détresse
pour m'aider
à sortir d'une récurrente tristesse
pour me rappeler
que sur mon chemin il y aura toujours une déesse
pour ouvrir
son bric-à-brac de cabas qui bédorde de tendresse
16 June 2007
In the shadow of fear
I didn't listen to my inner voice this morning. Waking up at 7.30am on a Saturday was too early for my reasonable mind, "I was so tired last night, must try to get more sleep". But a small voice was telling me I could get up and go back to bed later in the day if needed. I didn't. I finally got up at 9.30am and surfed on the Internet for a while. Then, this is where it becomes interesting, because I have stopped writing for the last 15min... "no, i cannot write what I want to write, not here"... but also, "well, if I don't write about it, then the post won't make any sense what so ever"... The conflict was raging within as I went back surfing and I am now about to dive into the unknown, the unacceptable, the unspeakable - maybe I should prevent this post to be accessed by anyone underaged...
9.30am it was, looking on the Internet for images of polar bear, meanings of this majestic animal in shamanism and symbols in analytical psychology. I won't go into the reasons behind this search now but I hope to do so in the future. I liked what I read and particularly the idea of mothering - apparently mother bears are very protective mothers for their cubs and very gentle and patient but also very fierce in making sure nothing happens to them. I kept having images coming to my mind and as I was sitting on my bed I started to feel sexually aroused. My nipples were calling for gentle strokes and I happily answered their request. So much so that I ended up putting the laptop away and giving myself all the attention required. I believe that was a turning point.
A while later I covered myself with my duvet again and went back to "sleep" for an hour, fully aware that it wasn't what I wanted. Yet I couldn't move, I was stuck there by some kind of greater strength, there was nothing I could do to fight it. It took me a little while to recognise it and name it: overwhelming numbness! This shadow of fear is well known to me, being almost ever present for many many years! I tried to make it move in my body, to give it life but it wouldn't work. Finally I knew what I had to do: I had to give it life in words. And what better place than here?!
Yet I'm not sure what made it visit me today. But as I write these words I can hear "of course you do", and indeed I do know. Yes it has to do with the physical and sexual pleasure I gave myself earlier but it is not the whole story either, this was only the trigger. It comes back to a dream I had early this week which we expanded a little yesterday with my analyst. In that dream I give birth to a tiny little boy and in my old bedroom at my parents' I unwrap him from a wolf-like fancy dress outfit that is zipped on his back from head to toe. This baby boy is relying on me to get fed, protected, be loved nurtured and mothered and to grow enough before he can go alone onto his own path. At this very moment in time, he is extremely vulnerable and this is exactly how I feel, vulnerable. I feel that anything and anyone could very easily crush me.
So I keep swinging between the old pattern where I am in charge (or so I think) and so well protected that no one can even dream of touching my heart and a new opening where I accept my vulnerability and do all I can to protect myself from what I believe may be attacks, trying to keep the doors open for others to get in. The difficulty is that I am even scared of people who love me... As Tiffanie puts it in her post Cities, I wish I will visit the place called Trust sometime soon.
9.30am it was, looking on the Internet for images of polar bear, meanings of this majestic animal in shamanism and symbols in analytical psychology. I won't go into the reasons behind this search now but I hope to do so in the future. I liked what I read and particularly the idea of mothering - apparently mother bears are very protective mothers for their cubs and very gentle and patient but also very fierce in making sure nothing happens to them. I kept having images coming to my mind and as I was sitting on my bed I started to feel sexually aroused. My nipples were calling for gentle strokes and I happily answered their request. So much so that I ended up putting the laptop away and giving myself all the attention required. I believe that was a turning point.
A while later I covered myself with my duvet again and went back to "sleep" for an hour, fully aware that it wasn't what I wanted. Yet I couldn't move, I was stuck there by some kind of greater strength, there was nothing I could do to fight it. It took me a little while to recognise it and name it: overwhelming numbness! This shadow of fear is well known to me, being almost ever present for many many years! I tried to make it move in my body, to give it life but it wouldn't work. Finally I knew what I had to do: I had to give it life in words. And what better place than here?!
Yet I'm not sure what made it visit me today. But as I write these words I can hear "of course you do", and indeed I do know. Yes it has to do with the physical and sexual pleasure I gave myself earlier but it is not the whole story either, this was only the trigger. It comes back to a dream I had early this week which we expanded a little yesterday with my analyst. In that dream I give birth to a tiny little boy and in my old bedroom at my parents' I unwrap him from a wolf-like fancy dress outfit that is zipped on his back from head to toe. This baby boy is relying on me to get fed, protected, be loved nurtured and mothered and to grow enough before he can go alone onto his own path. At this very moment in time, he is extremely vulnerable and this is exactly how I feel, vulnerable. I feel that anything and anyone could very easily crush me.
So I keep swinging between the old pattern where I am in charge (or so I think) and so well protected that no one can even dream of touching my heart and a new opening where I accept my vulnerability and do all I can to protect myself from what I believe may be attacks, trying to keep the doors open for others to get in. The difficulty is that I am even scared of people who love me... As Tiffanie puts it in her post Cities, I wish I will visit the place called Trust sometime soon.
14 June 2007
A Bonne-Maman
Depuis son fauteuil
Elle n'entend plus bien
Ses oreilles bien rangées dans le tiroir de sa table de chevet
Somnolant à moitié
Les heures défilent
Lentement ou à pas de geant selon qu'elle a des visites ou pas
Ni-assise et ni-allongée
Parfois elle s'arrête de parler
Par choix, de fatigue ou simplement parce que tout a déjà été dit
Acceptant et exposant sa fragilité
Elle reste belle
Coiffée de son élégante chevelure blanchie par les années
Jamais très grande et maintenant tassée
Elle reste digne
Même si ses muscles ont récemment décidé qu'ils en avaient eu assez
Aujourd'hui à 95 ans
Elle reste le pilier
Auquel tout un chacun vient encore s'amarrer
Je l'aime aujourd'hui
Comme je l'ai toujours aimée
Mais j'ai enfin trouvé les mots pour le lui dire et l'écrire
Quand il sera temps qu'elle rejoignent ses ancêtres
Je demande aux alliés de ce monde et de l'autre
De lui prendre la main et de l'accompagner avec amour
Pour qu'elle parte en joie et en paix
Elle n'entend plus bien
Ses oreilles bien rangées dans le tiroir de sa table de chevet
Somnolant à moitié
Les heures défilent
Lentement ou à pas de geant selon qu'elle a des visites ou pas
Ni-assise et ni-allongée
Parfois elle s'arrête de parler
Par choix, de fatigue ou simplement parce que tout a déjà été dit
Acceptant et exposant sa fragilité
Elle reste belle
Coiffée de son élégante chevelure blanchie par les années
Jamais très grande et maintenant tassée
Elle reste digne
Même si ses muscles ont récemment décidé qu'ils en avaient eu assez
Aujourd'hui à 95 ans
Elle reste le pilier
Auquel tout un chacun vient encore s'amarrer
Je l'aime aujourd'hui
Comme je l'ai toujours aimée
Mais j'ai enfin trouvé les mots pour le lui dire et l'écrire
Quand il sera temps qu'elle rejoignent ses ancêtres
Je demande aux alliés de ce monde et de l'autre
De lui prendre la main et de l'accompagner avec amour
Pour qu'elle parte en joie et en paix
13 June 2007
A not so random Wednesday morning
Yes, I did wake up early this morning, as planned. I thought I'd spend most of my extra hour on this blog... well, I didn't and it is now almost time for me to get ready for work. Actually it IS time to start getting ready, so I suppose I might have to rush somehow because I still want to spend a few more minutes here, sitting on my bed with my fingers running (slowly, I must admit) on the keyboard...
So what is it that is so important that I have to say?
I love mornings, these quiet times when hardly any cars can be heard, the neighbours are quiet, the bell church doesn't ring just yet, the sun begins its slow ascent bathing an ever increasing part of the brick wall opposite my window... I have always loved mornings but have found it difficult to even contemplate waking up for long periods of time. I remember these times when I still lived at my parents' and I would get up a 6am and run to the stables, spending hours, days and weeks helping out cleaning it and the horses. My parents complained that I was taking thier home for a hotel: they were right because I would be coming back only to eat and sleep during holiday...
Only time will tell whether this early morning will be one of many, the beginning of a new period where I take time for myself before going to a job that does not fulfil me any longer but which I am not prepared to leave just yet...
I want to thank myself for listening (and finding answers) to my needs.
So what is it that is so important that I have to say?
I love mornings, these quiet times when hardly any cars can be heard, the neighbours are quiet, the bell church doesn't ring just yet, the sun begins its slow ascent bathing an ever increasing part of the brick wall opposite my window... I have always loved mornings but have found it difficult to even contemplate waking up for long periods of time. I remember these times when I still lived at my parents' and I would get up a 6am and run to the stables, spending hours, days and weeks helping out cleaning it and the horses. My parents complained that I was taking thier home for a hotel: they were right because I would be coming back only to eat and sleep during holiday...
Only time will tell whether this early morning will be one of many, the beginning of a new period where I take time for myself before going to a job that does not fulfil me any longer but which I am not prepared to leave just yet...
I want to thank myself for listening (and finding answers) to my needs.
10 June 2007
Tower bridge round the corner
Tonight, I walked with my close friend Rosa to the flat I'm in the process of buying, show her what it looks like from the outside. On walking back, I left her walk to London Bridge to get her bus home and I walked across Tower Bridge to go my way home... I felt really excited about living so close to the river Thames and the major landmark of London. It was a wonderful feeling to imagine that I'd be walking it twice a day to get to work!
I hadn't been back that way since I first viewed the flat and it felt great!
I hadn't been back that way since I first viewed the flat and it felt great!
08 June 2007
Not here to be loved - French film
I have come out of the cinema with a feeling of sadness. I watched "Not here to be loved", a French film relating the meeting of two unhappy people - one middle age man who has never voiced his anger at not been seen by his father and is full of resentment and a woman in her 30s maybe, who is going to get married to a man who is Self-obsessed and doesn't give a dam about her. They meet on a dance floor, taking tango lessons.
At first I didn't understand why I felt sad. Then I came back "home", my ex-partner's flat where I live in at the moment while he's away having a brilliant time in South America for 6 months. There I let the tears flow and I heard them say "I don't want to leave this place, I feel home, it's a nice flat". I welcomed these tears of grief and gave myself to them for a while. Then I felt I had to write and an uninterrupted flow of words poured out into my book making me clearly see why I wasn't so excited about the flat I'm buying, and why I was/am in no hurry for the process to move forward...
I am grateful to the forces that took me to the cinema today to see a film I hadn't planned to see - I had the idea to watch "10 canoes" but went to the wrong cinema... I suppose I was ready to have my eyes opened to my own current truth and to accept it as it is, without judgment.
At first I didn't understand why I felt sad. Then I came back "home", my ex-partner's flat where I live in at the moment while he's away having a brilliant time in South America for 6 months. There I let the tears flow and I heard them say "I don't want to leave this place, I feel home, it's a nice flat". I welcomed these tears of grief and gave myself to them for a while. Then I felt I had to write and an uninterrupted flow of words poured out into my book making me clearly see why I wasn't so excited about the flat I'm buying, and why I was/am in no hurry for the process to move forward...
I am grateful to the forces that took me to the cinema today to see a film I hadn't planned to see - I had the idea to watch "10 canoes" but went to the wrong cinema... I suppose I was ready to have my eyes opened to my own current truth and to accept it as it is, without judgment.
03 June 2007
5 days which transform a lifetime
I have come back last night from an intensive workshop that counts as 5 days of Heartbeat in the pre-requisite to enter the 5 Rhythms teacher training. To me who doesn't at this minute think about the training it counts as a life transforming experience.
Alchemy of stillness it was called. Or in my own words, how to explore the emotions (and their shadows) of fear, anger and passion, sadness and joy in the body, let them dance me as I pay attention and learn to recognise and consciously release them, and finally allow these new allies or friends to blend into compassion and love at the centre of my heart. Intense it was indeed.
Thorny or daunting at times, gratifying and fun at others, the work opens the door of possibilies, catalyses questions or intentions and leads through transformation to newness. If it will take some time to integrate the experience it already revealed to me my own continuous - if not regular - movement on the spiral of life and my capacity to be more grounded in my own power.
I am extremely grateful to all spirits to have conspired so that I could be present for this work, to the much dedicated teacher Ya'Acov and his assistants Jo and Sue and all the students who made this work what it was.
Alchemy of stillness it was called. Or in my own words, how to explore the emotions (and their shadows) of fear, anger and passion, sadness and joy in the body, let them dance me as I pay attention and learn to recognise and consciously release them, and finally allow these new allies or friends to blend into compassion and love at the centre of my heart. Intense it was indeed.
Thorny or daunting at times, gratifying and fun at others, the work opens the door of possibilies, catalyses questions or intentions and leads through transformation to newness. If it will take some time to integrate the experience it already revealed to me my own continuous - if not regular - movement on the spiral of life and my capacity to be more grounded in my own power.
I am extremely grateful to all spirits to have conspired so that I could be present for this work, to the much dedicated teacher Ya'Acov and his assistants Jo and Sue and all the students who made this work what it was.
27 May 2007
In the heart of Spring
Sunday rain, rain, rain.. more rain still and there's no stopping it. That's been the story of the day, half way though the Bank Holiday Monday. Somehow I love it. The same way I love it when it's sunny or warm or windy or cold. I just take it as it comes.
But today there is an extra-something to this rain. I'm going tomorrow to a week-long 5Rhythms workshop and I feel that the ground and the Earth are being softened by this blessed water and that more life will come as a result of it. More life through the ground but also more life though my body. I don't know yet what, how, when but I feel it grow inside and gather strength to push out and be seen eventually.
I'll keep all my senses in full alert and welcome every single new shoot.
But today there is an extra-something to this rain. I'm going tomorrow to a week-long 5Rhythms workshop and I feel that the ground and the Earth are being softened by this blessed water and that more life will come as a result of it. More life through the ground but also more life though my body. I don't know yet what, how, when but I feel it grow inside and gather strength to push out and be seen eventually.
I'll keep all my senses in full alert and welcome every single new shoot.
21 May 2007
La tête à l'envers
La tête à l'envers
De l'autre côté de la misère
Quittant la Terre
Pour voler tout en haut comme les oiseaux
En plein air
Les yeux clos
Vers la lumière
D'un nouvel univers
La tête à l'envers
De l'autre côté de la poussière
L'air est bon
Pour respirer à plein poumons
' Y a rien à faire
J' f'rai pas marche arrière
J'ai b'soin d' ce grand air
Qu'on trouve pas sur la Terre
Le coeur enfin à l'endroit
On a toujours l'choix
Et j'ai décidé de plus vivre ni à moitié
Ni à côté
L'herbe est plus verte chez moi
J'ai trouvé la foi
La Vie m'attend
Elle est là
De l'autre côté de la misère
Quittant la Terre
Pour voler tout en haut comme les oiseaux
En plein air
Les yeux clos
Vers la lumière
D'un nouvel univers
La tête à l'envers
De l'autre côté de la poussière
L'air est bon
Pour respirer à plein poumons
' Y a rien à faire
J' f'rai pas marche arrière
J'ai b'soin d' ce grand air
Qu'on trouve pas sur la Terre
Le coeur enfin à l'endroit
On a toujours l'choix
Et j'ai décidé de plus vivre ni à moitié
Ni à côté
L'herbe est plus verte chez moi
J'ai trouvé la foi
La Vie m'attend
Elle est là
14 May 2007
Awesome Anger
How could I ever thank Camilo enough for having talked to me about 5 Rhythms? How could I ever thank myself enough for having made the leap of faith? To put it in just one word, this practice is magical. At least it is for me...
In the last six months or so, chaos often became a battle that I always lost before I even got into it. Losing the plot, screaming, feeling exhaustion creeping in, lack of air reaching my lungs, and stiffness around my liver... I used to be happy with that as I was letting my rage out, at long last. But my entrance into lyrical would be chaotic, to say the least and most often some tears would find their way up... then down the floor!! In some classes I got more water pouring out that even Niagara falls.
Last week changed radically. My anger, agression and rage came out as per usual but somehow they were feeding me with energy rather than sucking it out. The passage to lyrical made the tears come up but this time, before they even left my heart, I refused to surrender, "No clairem, there's nothing to be ashamed of, I've got the right to be angry and agressive, I've got the right to own my anger and nothing bad will happen to me"...
Tonight, I came to the class anxious and upset and I couldn't be bothered to make an effort. Maybe I shouldn't say it that way. I couldn't push away all the anxiety that was playing up in my mind. I didn't like the music that Cathy put on, other dancers were too much of this and not enough of that.... when she said "take a partner", I thought, "Oh noooooo, that's the icing on the cake!" I really had to kick my arse again and again and again to make sure I was present to the man I was dancing with! And suddenly the dam cracked, the anger push through and with it all the repressed energy I had no access to until then!! It's like surfing the wave or falling into it. One feels fantastic and the other dreadful but if one's focused enough, then one can get the better of it even from the darkest situation.
In the last six months or so, chaos often became a battle that I always lost before I even got into it. Losing the plot, screaming, feeling exhaustion creeping in, lack of air reaching my lungs, and stiffness around my liver... I used to be happy with that as I was letting my rage out, at long last. But my entrance into lyrical would be chaotic, to say the least and most often some tears would find their way up... then down the floor!! In some classes I got more water pouring out that even Niagara falls.
Last week changed radically. My anger, agression and rage came out as per usual but somehow they were feeding me with energy rather than sucking it out. The passage to lyrical made the tears come up but this time, before they even left my heart, I refused to surrender, "No clairem, there's nothing to be ashamed of, I've got the right to be angry and agressive, I've got the right to own my anger and nothing bad will happen to me"...
Tonight, I came to the class anxious and upset and I couldn't be bothered to make an effort. Maybe I shouldn't say it that way. I couldn't push away all the anxiety that was playing up in my mind. I didn't like the music that Cathy put on, other dancers were too much of this and not enough of that.... when she said "take a partner", I thought, "Oh noooooo, that's the icing on the cake!" I really had to kick my arse again and again and again to make sure I was present to the man I was dancing with! And suddenly the dam cracked, the anger push through and with it all the repressed energy I had no access to until then!! It's like surfing the wave or falling into it. One feels fantastic and the other dreadful but if one's focused enough, then one can get the better of it even from the darkest situation.
09 May 2007
The most beautiful discovery of all
"This dream is one of the BIG dreams I was talking to you about yesterday", he said, "and you've just discovered and tasted what it's like to be home. That's why you didn't want to come back".
These few words, not even intended to me, ran at great speed along the ear nerve all the way to my heart leading to an instant, dramatic rising tide and the overflow of tears running down my cheeks before crushing on the dry ground. Suddenly I just knew everything. My brain could not formulate words but my heart knew and my tears knew...
Most of my life, I've lost myself into a world of fantasy where my stories had no substance and no existence except in my mind... It has been the story of my life, my way to survive an ordinary reality in which I couldn't find my space.
But in the last few months, I've lost myself into women-only workshops: feeling incredibly safe, confident in groups of unknown women and trusting my own being... I have experienced in those days such blissful states that I never wanted to come back to the ordinary, every day reality. I've lost myself into darkness (Darkness Visible, 20/10/06, sorry I can't make a link to it...), touching such deep layers of who I am that I got burnt. Yet it also had been an awesome experience and I wanted to get back to it asap. I've lost myself into a one year introductory course in Jungian Analytical Psychology, genuinely fascinated by the mystery of the psyche and the unconscious.
Every time I lost myself without knowing I was coming home, my home, my core, my deep being, the real me. That is, until the few words stated above simultaneously clicked in my mind and my heart and I could not only comprehend but most importantly accept that I am a deeply spiritual person (please do not read religious instead of spiritual as the two words have complete different meanings). Being conscious of this simple yet crucial fact gave me an immediate inner peace, the feeling of worth and fullness and the knowledge that my place is both in the spiritual world and in the ordinary, everyday world of relationship... I could leave my substanceless fantasy world and tackle both world fully conscious.
How interesting and fascinating it is that my inner world and discoveries are mirrored synchronicitically in my outer reality (or is it the other way around)? I am finding my inner home and 10 days ago I made an offer on a flat which was accepted and all seems to go smoothly so far... I could own my first home ever in the next 6 to 8 weeks! I feel ready to embrace the ordinary reality that will never be entirely fulfilling but is nevertheless full of riches and two weeks ago I meet a man... after an awful long time!
Today I feel in love with both worlds and my heart feels so dense in my chest it needs to expand.
These few words, not even intended to me, ran at great speed along the ear nerve all the way to my heart leading to an instant, dramatic rising tide and the overflow of tears running down my cheeks before crushing on the dry ground. Suddenly I just knew everything. My brain could not formulate words but my heart knew and my tears knew...
Most of my life, I've lost myself into a world of fantasy where my stories had no substance and no existence except in my mind... It has been the story of my life, my way to survive an ordinary reality in which I couldn't find my space.
But in the last few months, I've lost myself into women-only workshops: feeling incredibly safe, confident in groups of unknown women and trusting my own being... I have experienced in those days such blissful states that I never wanted to come back to the ordinary, every day reality. I've lost myself into darkness (Darkness Visible, 20/10/06, sorry I can't make a link to it...), touching such deep layers of who I am that I got burnt. Yet it also had been an awesome experience and I wanted to get back to it asap. I've lost myself into a one year introductory course in Jungian Analytical Psychology, genuinely fascinated by the mystery of the psyche and the unconscious.
Every time I lost myself without knowing I was coming home, my home, my core, my deep being, the real me. That is, until the few words stated above simultaneously clicked in my mind and my heart and I could not only comprehend but most importantly accept that I am a deeply spiritual person (please do not read religious instead of spiritual as the two words have complete different meanings). Being conscious of this simple yet crucial fact gave me an immediate inner peace, the feeling of worth and fullness and the knowledge that my place is both in the spiritual world and in the ordinary, everyday world of relationship... I could leave my substanceless fantasy world and tackle both world fully conscious.
How interesting and fascinating it is that my inner world and discoveries are mirrored synchronicitically in my outer reality (or is it the other way around)? I am finding my inner home and 10 days ago I made an offer on a flat which was accepted and all seems to go smoothly so far... I could own my first home ever in the next 6 to 8 weeks! I feel ready to embrace the ordinary reality that will never be entirely fulfilling but is nevertheless full of riches and two weeks ago I meet a man... after an awful long time!
Today I feel in love with both worlds and my heart feels so dense in my chest it needs to expand.
03 May 2007
something of a crazy but amazing week
Well...
I've had no time whatsoever to even think about the blog this past week. So many changes, so much excitment, so many people to talk to and catch up with. And to be completely honnest right now, all I think of is go to bed and sleep...
Yet I want to share this excitment with the few of you visiting my blog, reading these words and sometimes leaving comments...
I've made an offer on a 1-bedroom flat . I called the estate agent on Monday at 9.30am as I felt torn all weekend after visiting it: it's great, but the kitchen is so small; maybe I can find something bigger; yes but my budget is tight; and the prices continue going up on a steep slope; and the England base rate is likely to go up, too; so the flat is great; and the garden is lovely and big; etc, etc. The agent tells me that the flat is still available and calls me back 1/2h later to tell me the vendor had accepted my offer. From then on, I felt like a little whirlwind all day, having to give phone calls, find a solicitor, talk to my mortgage broker, decide for the exact amount I want to borrow... My mind was racing but not getting anywhere! Fortunately some part of me was somehow still functioning and making things happen! pfff!
And so of course I had to celebrate on Monday night and went for dinner with my very good friend who had the great idea of calling me as I was leaving work. It was a beautiful sunny day and we sat down on the Southbank with a glass of red wine, chatting away, until the Sun hid behind the buildings on the other side of the Thames and we went for dinner indoors.
After more admin stuff for the flat on Tuesday (didn't do much work those two days) then a visit at the Renoir Cinema, I found myself already well into the night with some prep work still to be done for a seminar on Wednesday afternoon. It was a very short night indeed! And so was Thursday night, as I met with THE man... Yes he had called me after the Brazilian night and yes we've met a few times since then. And so far so good! I think that's all I want to say about it at this stage...
And it is now time for bed, even though it is very early.
I've had no time whatsoever to even think about the blog this past week. So many changes, so much excitment, so many people to talk to and catch up with. And to be completely honnest right now, all I think of is go to bed and sleep...
Yet I want to share this excitment with the few of you visiting my blog, reading these words and sometimes leaving comments...
I've made an offer on a 1-bedroom flat . I called the estate agent on Monday at 9.30am as I felt torn all weekend after visiting it: it's great, but the kitchen is so small; maybe I can find something bigger; yes but my budget is tight; and the prices continue going up on a steep slope; and the England base rate is likely to go up, too; so the flat is great; and the garden is lovely and big; etc, etc. The agent tells me that the flat is still available and calls me back 1/2h later to tell me the vendor had accepted my offer. From then on, I felt like a little whirlwind all day, having to give phone calls, find a solicitor, talk to my mortgage broker, decide for the exact amount I want to borrow... My mind was racing but not getting anywhere! Fortunately some part of me was somehow still functioning and making things happen! pfff!
And so of course I had to celebrate on Monday night and went for dinner with my very good friend who had the great idea of calling me as I was leaving work. It was a beautiful sunny day and we sat down on the Southbank with a glass of red wine, chatting away, until the Sun hid behind the buildings on the other side of the Thames and we went for dinner indoors.
After more admin stuff for the flat on Tuesday (didn't do much work those two days) then a visit at the Renoir Cinema, I found myself already well into the night with some prep work still to be done for a seminar on Wednesday afternoon. It was a very short night indeed! And so was Thursday night, as I met with THE man... Yes he had called me after the Brazilian night and yes we've met a few times since then. And so far so good! I think that's all I want to say about it at this stage...
And it is now time for bed, even though it is very early.
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