Un-defining moments. What do I mean by these? For me these are moments that really caused me to re-evaluate my view of the world and kick start some internal re-wiring. Defining moments are those you use to shore up your idea of what you are and what you are not in the world. Un-defining moments make the world bigger, force you to throw off pieces of your ‘self’ and find more at-one-ment. I hope we all have some of these. Here is my list. It is not exhaustive and these are not ‘favourite moments’ or ‘time of my life moments’ (although some were that too). For some people these moments would be ‘so what?’ - that’s fine. These are some of the ones that I was fortunate enough to have that made me grow. 1. When I was 13 and went on my first French exchange to Dijon. Tipped off the coach and picked up by my penfriend’s family, we arrived at her home. The garage had automatic gates down to a basement garage. We walked up through a games room to the ground floor where staircases curved up on both sides of the hallway to the second floor landing. My room was the size of my whole upstairs at home. There were so many rooms that I forgot which one was the toilet and had to go in my ensuite shower in the night. In the morning we had breakfast outside (truly exotic - Frosties with yoghurt and raspberries) in the sunshine next to the huge swimming pool. We had pool parties after school. I secretly fell in love with her cousin. One weekend we drove down to their flat in the Alps for a spot of tobogganing, views of Mont Blanc and Raclettes. Hot chocolate and brioche before brioche was a supermarket staple. Bloody meat presented for lunch (just eat it - no one else is dying). Mind blown. 2. First visit to Camden Market as a teenager when my friend’s mum drove us there. I felt as if I’d entered an alternative universe of dreadlocks and joss sticks and other funny smells. Trinkets and memorabilia and tie-dyed clothing. Cue lots of saving of pennies and return visits. Happy days. 3. First term at Cambridge. Getting a ‘D’ in my first piece of Use of French homework and the soulful look from our lecturer. Never knowing the answer in the Russian grammar workshop. Vaguely wondering how other people did but also wondering why it was scheduled at 9.00 the night after the student club night. Busting a gut just trying to keep up. Not being able to define myself by ‘doing well’. 4. Arriving in Beijing on the Trans-Siberian Railway in 1996. (It does something to you to see the same country go past for seven days, the same lake (Baikal) for one whole day.) But specifically, the journey ended one morning at dawn as we pulled into Beijing. The parks we passed were full of older people practising Tai Chi. Before I had any idea what Tai Chi was. Before working out in parks was a thing. Beijing itself, The Great Wall. Wondering if we needed to go home at all. 5. Short and sweet - first night in Istanbul age 20. Being woken at dawn by the call to prayer from the three nearest mosques. (Argh. Do you have to? I like my sleep). Roll on a few (ahem) years. If you can't beat 'em....you marry them (or something). Nowadays when in Turkey I pass my mother-in-law in the dark on the way to the bathroom as she gets up to pray, me to meditate. 6. Living in Russia in the late ‘90s. Different rules. Not worrying about it. 7. Hmmm. Still not sure I want to talk about this. Breaking off an engagement because I fell for someone else. (I guess settling down at 24 was a little optimistic). The genuine horror of not being a ‘good girl’. Trying out the mantle of ‘scarlet woman’. Not being struck by lightning. And finally, most terrifyingly, not being sure why I had wanted to marry the guy I finished with in the first place. 8. Giving birth. Nothing prepared me for the way my body behaved in labour (and yes I did do the class - I'm thorough I did two). My experience was of my body transforming into an enormous pump over which I had little control, designed to expel a wee babe in super quick time. I learned fast that I needed to ham it up to get the midwives to pay me attention. My first daughter was nearly born in a corridor, the second not quite in the toilet. Neither one was ultimately fazed by the experience. Mild trauma and over excitement. 9. Early motherhood. Major identity crisis. Where did ‘I’ go? Who is that puffy face looking back at me in the mirror? Why is the weight not ‘falling off’? My ‘little sister’ is awesome but how do I come to terms with myself as ‘mother’? Am I the only one who feels like this? 10. Babaji. Beginning, middle and end. The ultimate love-hustler. In his presence everything is forgotten. All that matters is the joy that comes with it. Not being. Just love. This is the quote that is keeping me centred right now, from Hindu saint Sri Anandamayi Ma: "Before I came on this earth, Father, 'I was the same'. As a little girl, 'I was the same'. I grew into womanhood, but still 'I was the same'. When the family in which I had been born made arrangements to have this body married, 'I was the same'... And, Father, in front of you now, 'I am the same'. Ever afterward, though the dance of creation change around me in the hall of eternity, 'I shall be the same’.” 'I am the same'. Everything else is illusion.
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'Our love affair was a prickly thing I thought you were ugly and cruel But mysterious You enticed me back' This... I was planning another post, but given the current diplomatic crisis between the UK and Russia (and the world), this one feels more timely. As love affairs go, this one's been pretty damn big for me.... Moscow is my Himalayas. I start to breath differently there as soon as the plane hits the tarmac. It's a place to feel more alive. I realise not everyone feels like this. How do you learn to love something which initially seems off-putting? Well, this is the essence of tantra, and Russia has taught it to me well... 'Overcast and austere, you make me glad to be with you Unwelcoming, you embrace my soul Once more I breathe deeply in your feather-heavy air My belly bubbles the buzz none can hear' Often, the things which seem most 'difficult' are the ones most worth the effort. When I first visited Moscow in 1996, I can safely say I was not immediately in love with the place. It was big, dusty, unwelcoming, had horrible red tape, and all the good nightclubs were hidden un-signposted down some back street only to be reached using a hastily hand-drawn map. But there was something.... an excitement, a challenge, a significance, a secret, a promise of more. It is becoming a bit of a theme for me, but if you want to experience ecstasy, you need to embrace complexity - the 'good' and the 'bad'. It is only through transmuting the duality of these that you find genuine unconditionality and passion for life. Those red stars on top of the Kremlin get me every time.... (Also, y'know, Russians are not that difficult to get on with - lots of my favorite, favourite people in this lifetime have been and are Russian). Poetry heals, and here is a poem I wrote in Moscow two years ago in 2016, a whole twenty years after my first visit - celebrating the things that had changed, the things that hadn't, the memories, and the constant new-ness. I hope it goes some way to offering a fresh perspective. Am I old or young? This place tumbles my feelings Heaviness, overwhelm Until I melt into the flow Releasing the years in between Worn like barricades Can I still be one of you? In these spaces so grand I lose myself lightly Mischievous youth So present in every in-breath Every mouthful, every undiminished echo Still delightfully stern and unyielding Now flaunting glamour and poise A new-old presence reinvented again Laughter squeezes Between grid-locked cars Joy bursts out at stony walls A face this serious can only be pretending One tickle and here's a laugh It's flooding back to me I remember how to dance through this Lilac trees invite Tulips entice Red stars in the night Vibrating with stored knowing A constant landmark for our stories Yours, and mine Of course - you were my mentor! Shaping my young years Being the anarchy of aliveness A love of many lifetimes We must know each other well Connecting so deeply Your love-flow flavour Comes spontaneously to my lips I am here, now Dissolving the distance between us In the awe of your embrace I am always young Do we need a song? Hmmmm. Too much choice. I think on this occasion a traditional one... On International Women's Day I have a question... So tell me: How many times better Than you must I be To be accepted as your equal? An A-lister, to your B The only thing you understand Is my tough love My mastery And you wonder why We are struggling to be free If I love you You're suspicious If I admire you I can't be serious If I'm nice You underestimate me (Consider it a friendly warning But don't do that...) I make it look easy And instead of virtuosity You see nothing I can keep pulling it Out of the bag But this is getting boring And it would be more fun To ride with you So I'll ask again As if to a friend How many times better Than you must I be With my bountiful skills In my feminine guise To be considered your equal? I have some more questions.... When female leaders are strong, they attract a lot of criticism. Or when they are perceived as weak, or just because they're there. They can be described as being 'masculine', 'ruthless', 'even worse than men' etc etc. I think we are still finding out what true female leadership looks like. How a woman would lead if truly allowed to follow her own inclinations... Is it possible to lead from a place of raw, unpolished vulnerability? Is it possible to guide from a place of feeling and pain? To what extent can a woman be sensual? Which qualities might you 'borrow' from each of these female leaders (below)? Which would you decline on? Are you judging them or loving them? Which other powerful women do you admire? (Top left clockwise: Baroness Thatcher, Catherine the Great, Queen Elizabeth I, Inanna) I seem to be developing criteria for songs which make it onto this blog, one of which is 'makes hair stand on end'. I could easily not add any commentary to this video, and just say 'ooooh', but in the interests of un-splaining, just a few thoughts.... We are all manifestations of the ONE The ONE has many lovers We all remember each other We are all eternally COOL with this We are all healed We are all friends The poignancy adds to the ultimate ecstasy We are all IN LOVE You can learn a lot from children. You’ve heard it said no doubt, that to enter the kingdom of heaven you must become like a little child... Well, you know, it’s actually true. Thing is, this is rather difficult when you’ve gone through all the bother of growing up in the first place. You’ve bought into all the ideas about what life should be like, what success is. Education, job, family, lots of likes on Facebook. Being #soblessed. It’s hard work. You’ve put your back into it. You’ve got stuff to show for it. Children are like little animals. Forces of nature. It is not a positive thing though to say an adult is like an animal. So we try to civilise children, divorce them from their primal energy, and work on getting them to perform to external standards. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but kids don’t actually like ‘performing’. Like when Grandma or auntie comes round and you say: ‘Put on your nice dress’, ‘Why not play us that little tune you learned on the recorder?’, or you say ‘Come on, let’s hear a bit of the Spanish you’ve been learning’. Ha, ha, ha.... What happens? That’s right, they tell you, usually by the look in their eyes, to get lost. On the other hand, a child is very spontaneous, and will do any of those things they can do as and when it pleases them, when the mood takes them. But if we want to become like children, we need to start doing more of what children do. Start saying get lost when someone asks you to perform, and then use your energy to excel at something they never even dreamed of. A child will say what they think because they haven’t yet learned that it’s not done to be truthful. A child is innocent and trusting because they haven’t yet learned that the world is cynical of this. A child is hopeful because they haven’t yet learned to manage their expectations. A child is quick to point out an injustice and expects something to be done about it because they haven't learned that's not how the world works. What would a child say about living the life you live right now? If you actually try to ‘become like a little child’, you’ll come up very quickly against your own cynicism. What does that voice in your head say? Where did that feeling originate? Where did you learn that? Do you need to keep believing it? If you stick with it for a bit, you’ll actually realise that innocence can be its own protection. Watch the people around you do a double take. Giggle. Try it some more. Treat yourself with the same compassion as you would a little child and you’ll find yourself opening to life in a much richer way. |
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Tantra Mataji | confidence - freedom - passion |