Broken Stones

Gone to Soon - the Michael Jackson Memorial

2009-07-08T07:42:00.001-07:00

Just watched the MJ memorial on replay. I got quite emotional watching it. His songs carved out my childhood and teenage years. I didn’t realise until today that they also served as affirmations too. I thought it was the music itself, but now as an adult with a life shaped by the idealism of the change he sung about I realise it was words of the songs too.

When I was first sick in my 20s I used to listen to Will You Be There all the time

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CRqYVFr7sL4&feature=related

I thought it was my yearning to have others understand my condition. It would lift me, raise my vibrations and allow me to release what was held inside. Today was the first time I realised it is actually a prayer and request to God in an hour of darkness, the walk across the desert so to speak. I understand what Maya Angelou meant by We Had Him.

He sung all our songs. All the ones we buried in the light and dark parts of our hearts. He sung our wishes and he sung our fears. Our memories entwined with his songs and thus our spectrum of feelings were imposed on them and him. He became part of all our growing up journeys. I believe he became a reflection of all that was good in society and then eventually all that was bad. A mirror to society showing us all that we applaud and all that we disown. Made and broken by the reflections.

I read an article today by Paul Theroux talking of his trip to Neverland. http://www.telegraph.co.uk/comment/5664968/My-trip-to-Neverland-and-the-call-from-Michael-Jackson-Ill-never-forget-by-Paul-Theroux.html

In it he quotes George William Russell’s poem Germinal to MJ.

In ancient shadows and twilights

Where childhood had stray'd,

The world's great sorrows were born

And its heroes were made.

In the lost boyhood of Judas

Christ was betray'd.

MJ is fascinated by this concept of lost childhood being the root of heroes and betrayals. Theroux states

Twenty more minutes of Biblical apocrypha with Michael Jackson, on the lost childhood of Judas, and then the whisper again.

"Wow."

Michael Jackson did what he did because he was seeking to heal the world. As was said in the memorial he is in the Guinness Book of Records as the Popstar who donated to the most charities. We forced much on him through his music. I felt all my recollections come back to me as I listened to all the songs today and that is what that man had to deal with - our stuff running through him and his music.

His music - word, sound and movement - inspired a generation, showing us the truth in all of us and what we can really be in our lives. Inspiring us to move bodies, feet, head and hearts. And thus we grew. Art imitated life and life imitated art.

Gone too soon perhaps, but the ripples from his stone in the pond of life will last for generations to come.

How I met a Zulu man on George Street (aka How do you recognise the angels?)

2009-07-08T07:09:00.001-07:00

As sudden meetings go today’s ranks right up there with the very strange. It is also making me understand the principles of the laws of attraction. I was walking down George Street in Sydney and was very much lost in thought. To be honest I was feeling a little sorry for myself. I had been travelling for a while and had been eating and sleeping in ways that my body was not used to. My stomach and digestion were beginning to feel as crammed with low grade items as Argos is just before Christmas. There was little space to hold and contain goodness and my mind was following suite (if not dictating the situation in the first place).

As I stood at a street crossing waiting for the little green man a man reached out for my arm and asked for directions to the Harbour Bridge. I told him I was as new to this area and had no idea. He struck up a conversation and asked me about what I was doing in Sydney. His English was an admixture of many accents and like many other things about him from his Asian complexion that falsely suggested his ethnicity (he was instead from both New Zealand and South Africa) to his work (he worked in upholstery but was also a healer having been tutored by Zulus in his tribe in Africa) I couldn’t sense anything conclusive and tangible about this person. I just couldn’t read him at all.

We talked on the street corner and for some minutes I noticed nothing else around me. No one knocked into us, or jostled us, nor did I hear any other sound. I felt my guard go up, but my intrigue sharpen. I replied to his questions in monosyllables and let him do most of the talking.

The blunt precision with which he asked questions and offered information about me (without being asked to) made me realise early on that this man had an ability that he was not being forthcoming with. He was either very psychically gifted or a fabulous people reader. Either way he was launching into an unnerving full ‘read’ on the street corner. He started to tell me about the blocks in my chakras and the state of my bowel whilst throngs of people flowed around us. He said that he was leaving for Africa the following day and that I could go with him for healing, but as that would be too expensive he could send herbs at his expense to help clear my systems and ancient Zulu oils that would shed me of the evil spirits that were around me. By this point I had no idea what to make of this man. I had verbalised nothing to suggest that I would want to hear any of this and I definitely hadn’t told him of my ailing gut. My mind of course was rather vocal expressing it’s resistance with things like, ‘Who the hell stops you in the street, claims to be a Zulu healer and then starts energetically examining your bowel?! And why on earth would you want to take herbs from a man you just met on a street? If he is this gifted can’t he pick up on the fact he’s giving me the creeps. What does he want?’ Try as I might I couldn’t trust this man and the more he spoke the more my distrust grew. It bothered me that he seemed to want to heal me more than I wanted to be healed either by him or others. He seemed to have a personal attachment to the outcome he was pursuing and sensing this was unnerving me.

He then moved onto the problems I had with my Ex with startling accuracy and told me about someone who I had met at the weekend who had told me something troubling. He told me where and how I was storing this all in my body and the effects this was having and all the time I found myself closing up more and more and wondering what I had done to give this man permission to be so open and descriptive about my inners like this. He suggested we take a few steps off the pavement to a nearby table outside a coffee shop. By now he was trying to put my mind at rest because a blind idiot could have picked up on my defensiveness by now, and assure me of his good and noble character. His wording though was in the negative however (‘ I don’t try to do X,/I am not like Y’) and my mind heard nothing but what he was trying to tell me he wasn’t. He began to protest that I wasn’t looking him in the eye and that I was therefore hiding something dark from him by doing so. Telling me that I have dark spirits controlling my eyeballs is a good enough conversation closer if I ever heard one. I made my excuses and he gave up trying to convince me he was the saviour of my health and bowel and after saying a prayer went his own way.

Later back at Rocky’s and Sharon’s I found myself thinking about the concept of earth angels. I remembered that joke about how a man was sitting in the middle of a flood and asking for salvation but turned down the horse, the boat, and the helicopter. When he dies he protests to God about the absence of salvation and God points out all that he has turned down. I began to wonder if I had passed up an opportunity or if I had narrowly escaped being crowded by a nutter who I had inadvertently invited into my space. I shared my thoughts with Rocky and said ‘how do you know when you have met an angel and more to the point how do you trust them?’

His answer was the simplicity my mind was doing its best to ignore and avoid.

‘You just know,’ he said.

6. Master doing what you love and love what you do

2009-07-08T06:58:00.000-07:00

Successful people follow their hearts and guts. The wisdom of the mind is something that gets used later. Because they follow – and trust – their hearts, opportunities and breaks have invariably come to them along the way. They don’t just intend and seek them - they get found by them. Success in this respect becomes a by-product of them doing what they love, just living their lives and embodying these 7 tenets on a daily basis.

The 25 year old business woman I met in Sydney fell into buying a business at 20. She was working for a company and an opportunity came up to get more involved and buy part of the business. She took it and over the years bought a few more bits, worked hard and before she knew it, she was very successful.

The Supermodel Stylist come shop owner I have mentioned in a previous blog post was doing a favour for a friend in dressing them up for a high school show when Fiorucci just happened to be sitting in the audience. Fiorucci liked what he saw and offered him the chance to fly to Milan. He did and a few years of mentorship later, we have a world leading stylist.

Rocky tells the fabulous story of how he met his publisher. Having found something he had to write about because he simply had to share the story to inspire and help others he wrote with little thought of what to do with it. He shared his story whilst walking his dog one day with a lady he saw who regularly walked her dog there too. She asked to see his manuscript. He showed it to her. She turned out to be the top literary agent in Australia and got him a publishing deal at one of the best publishing companies in Australia. Dog walking is clearly good for you.

Many of the successful people I have spoken to didn’t have formal training (though this is not to dismiss formal training). Instead by taking action, training and therefore success found them. Mentors appeared along the way (or as the old quote goes, ‘when the student is ready, the master will appear’).

I read something wonderful once in a book called ‘Fish Sticks’ that said if you can see your path stretching out in front of you, the only thing you can be certain of is it is not your path because your path appears the moment you actually step on it.

Successful people know they can take a leap of faith because life/God will stitch them wings only after they have jumped. They also know that it is better to jump that be pushed.

5. Master being present and living in the present moment

2009-07-08T06:56:00.001-07:00

I haven’t heard one successful person say ‘when I have X in my life, my life will be okay.’ Life isn’t something in the future. Life is Now. And Life is okay Now. Even if you don’t think it is, it is, because there are blessings and balance and chances and choices everywhere. For things to be viewed as okay is not to say they are magical and always brilliant. It is just to accept them as they are. To accept them as they are is not to say you don’t want something different in the future. It just means you stop resisting life as it is and trying to change it and start living it instead. The more you affirm life and appreciate what you already have the more what you have will grow. You get what you focus on.

Trying is doing

As Gandhi said BE THE CHANGE YOU WANT TO SEE IN THE WORLD.

Being is awakening.

When you start to accept life as it is, all that energy you were expending in resisting it, is released to serve you and you vibrate at a higher level. Successful people have goals and visualise a marvellous future, but they don’t live in them in. They let go of their goals whilst they work on the present moment as most people let go their reoccurring dreams when they wake in the morning and plod down to breakfast. Once again to use the analogy of the carpenter successful people put that tool in their mind down. If you hands are full with hammers and nails how can you ever pick up a drill too?

‘I can only ever do what is in front of me and that is it. If I focus fully on that it gets done to the best of my ability and so my future gets done to the best of my ability.’ (an MD from Auckland)

4. Have Inspired and Focused Dedication

2009-07-08T06:54:00.000-07:00

This isn’t passion. Passion is highly energised, but it is also mostly highly unfocused. Inspiration however, is focused and is the precursor to real directed action. Successful people have decided to win from the outset and have unrelenting inspired and focused dedication to make it happen. They don’t crowd their minds either with myriad goals that confuse the universe and themselves as to what they want and when they want it. They let go of everything, but the one thing they want and they visualise and emotionalise this until they feel its certainty.

As one business woman said to me in Sydney, ‘I am exceptionally energetic. And focused. I love challenges. I love being inspired. But I don’t think unless I have to. ’

They work smart and they work hard. They make use of the opportunities and chances that come their way in that moment with wise consideration - not procrastination. Their time is organised and optimised. They are people that ‘eat their frogs’ and get the bad jobs done first. Once again this sense of time management is not just in regards to money making. Take a surfer off a beach and they will find their way back better than any homing pigeon. They will also get out of bed at the crack of dawn to make the best use of the waves and hone their skills. How many things in your life can make a claim on your time like that?

Master The Art Of Giving And Receiving

2009-07-08T06:49:00.000-07:00

I have been trying to write this following blog post for ages. I had a tremendous block on it and eventually realised that this means it is probably the one post I must write and write candidly.

Continuing The 7 Holy Tenets of Success series

3. Master The Art Of Giving And Receiving:

Rocky said to me, ‘Here’s a quote for you: You haven’t truly lived until you have done something for someone that they can never repay.’

‘I think I have done something like that,’ I said without looking up, as we sat next to each other, fingers clattering over our respective laptops.

‘We can always give more,’ Rocky said. ‘I can always give more.’

I paused then because whilst I was inspired by what he said I was more intrigued by my mind’s automatic response. It was very telling of society’s programming.

‘I haven’t done enough yet then’ it quietly, but quickly sparked up. And within seconds afterwards a soft feeling ran through me like wispy black smoke that asked ‘Does this mean I am not good enough yet either?’ And oh how I hate to admit that my mind said that. After all these years of work to the contrary. I have bared my soul in this blog, but that single remark made me feel more emotionally naked than any other.

The fact remains that many of society’s bodies teach us that it is better to give than receive and social approval and social acceptance is related to how much we give.

BUT WE ARE WORTH RECEIVING TOO!

I am one of life’s givers. I would give and give until I created nothing but a vacuum inside that promptly would then fill with illness and problems. I never asked for anything back because, well you don’t give to receive do you. That is what we are told. Tony Robbins says one of his secrets of success is to give more than you expect to receive. Fabulous, dandy, excellent Tony. I have been doing this for years, but I can line up people that have been giving tirelessly, working in charities and a lot of them are miserable, broke and often chronically sick to boot.

This only works if you know you are worth receiving too
and open yourself up to receive.
To block receiving is to block the cyclical flow of life and create dis-ease

The consequence of social programming is that many people go through life never knowing they are worth it. Women in particular are prone to almost silent self sacrificing and if you are part of a minority group (as I experienced when I was disabled) you get a double whammy because society treats you differently. Beliefs like this are seemingly so strong that they seem to have half lives rather than die.

This area of mastery is one of the true fundamental differences between those that make their dreams happen and those that don’t. Successful people know they are worth it and are happy and ready and willing to receive all of life’s blessings as much as they give out.

Knowing your true worth seems to be the keys to the gates of heaven. Worth is something you feel rather than think and express logically in the mind. We can all know logically we are worth it. We are told Jesus/God/Allah/The Universe loves us. We know we worked really hard this week and thus deserve compensation. And of course our mums love us too, but in all truth we also all know people who struggle to accept something as simple as a just a compliment.

If we can’t even receive compliments, which are simple reflections of our daily gifts, how can we ever receive money that is the shadow of all we believe we are worth?

The first consequence of not believing we are worth it is that our dreams become dull and/or small and our clarity is lost. We cannot see, smell, feel and hear what we want anymore so just walk around in dark forests, headbutting trees. The second consequence is that we forget we have choices at all. We no longer know what we want, only what we want to avoid. As one friend who has depression said to me recently he just doesn’t know what will make him happy anymore. He only knows how to nullify the pain.

The number one reason most people don't get what they want is
they don’t KNOW what they want!
-- T. Harv Eker

Over time we stop trusting ourselves completely and begin to believe others more than we believe ourselves. I know this experience only too well. I resisted my diagnosis of M.E. in the same way a dog resists a bath. I could accept I was sick, but I was not going to be sick for years, regardless of what the doctors told me. I was going back to university and was going to be fine. For over 14 months I held this light in my mind, but it was like a dying candle in a dark room. The flame was my dream, the wax was my self worth and as that worth burned down so did my dream. I woke one day and realised I couldn’t ‘see’ myself in my head anymore. Try as I might I couldn’t see myself as healthy Jayne in my head. I could only see Jayne in the wheelchair, both now and in the future. My new programming was complete and my new identity started there. People said this acceptance was good. But this wasn’t acceptance. Acceptance implies positive choice. This was a quiet mental defeat under an oppressive weight and it created a massive state of physical and mental inertia and I consequently spent over a decade sick.

If I knew how to tell you how you could fully know your worth and then receive it, the fact is I wouldn’t be sitting here writing this blog. My personal journey would be over and I would be sharing my lessons and fun times with you all. My books would be out, my seminars would be released across the world, my charity would global and we would be having whopping big dance parties everywhere in celebration. Probably on a beach or two.

I can only share what I do know to be true. I know that not knowing your worth is the dis-ease of the modern age and is a spiralling sickness. And I know that if you don’t actively seek to accept you are worth it and thus engage in creating your future it is created for you by default.

Believe in magic. Live in magic

(Jayne Thorpe)

I know self worth is a seed. You plant it by making an agreement with your will to grow it regardless of whatever weather comes your way. You nurture it by the good reflective light of others. And you water it too.

In my opinion, he said, after a while,

the only medicine that cures invisibility

among the powerful is tears

(Now is the Time to Open Your Heart, Alice Walker, p158)

Tears of love, gratitude, healing and inspiration are good tears.

Let go, let flow

2. Have Total Gratitude For Life:

2009-06-28T16:02:00.000-07:00

Without exception successful people all know what they have and how blessed they are to have it. How they show that and how they feel that is unique to them. Some say prayers, some write gratitude journals, some write poems and some paint, but they all send it out and express it daily. I met a man in Cuba once who talked to me about how his homeland was changing. For his country he was considered successful. He was a trained lawyer and spoke 4 languages fluently, but worked as a tour rep because that was all there was to do in Cuba. Most of his friends and family had fled the country to make better use of their qualifications elsewhere. He though had chosen to stay and essentially remain poor (on a set wage of $20 a month, it being a communist country) and when I asked him why he had done that he said that he could never go far from the ocean. He said that he knew where his heart was. He then told me about past times and how 40 years ago, when he was 10, he could write a poem of an evening and stroll into a bar the following day and sit and read it out to the drinkers in there. Imagine living he said in a country that so celebrates creativity and intelligence that you can share it in bar as a child. Cuba he said was rapidly changing, and a third world country still, but there was nowhere in the world more rich to him.

Know what you have and say thank you for it.

1. Have Total Trust In Life:

2009-06-28T16:00:00.000-07:00

TAKEN FROM WHO MAGAZINE, MARCH 16^TH 2009 P34 – LILY ALLEN

“Part of my ethos is that I don’t care about anything too much. If it all goes tits up, it’s not the end of the world”

Successful people mostly don’t worry about anything, even if all signs point to the fact that worrying would be perfectly normal.

Rocky said to me, ‘Here’s tip - don’t sweat the small stuff. Second tip is that it is all small stuff.’

Successful people know life will deliver, providing they keep moving forward, step by step, day by day. It may not come today, or tomorrow, but come it will.

You may think, ‘Well of course they don’t worry. These people are probably really rich and have so much more money than the rest of us.’

My answer now is, ‘That is not always the case, and even if it is how do you think they got that way?’

Without exception I have found these people were like this before they made money. They then added riches to their lives as a matter of choice. Yes I did say choice, because the other thing I have noticed is your financial state, like anything in life, is a matter of choice. Success in this list is not solely monetary. It’s the underlying state of mind that you can then add money to if you choose to. There are many people in life who are blissfully happy and also very poor. They line beaches, in salt washed clothes, with sun creased skin, doing nothing more than contemplating their next wave or their next meal. What they all have in common, rich or poor, is that these type of people literally let it all go and run – nay play - with the flow of life. Their minds are to them what hammers are to carpenters – tools to be used and nothing more. And when they have finished using them they put them down. They control the tool. The tool doesn’t control them.

As one exceptionally successful 25 year business woman said simply to me, ‘You think too much.’

How to be successful – aka The 7 Holy Tenets of Success

2009-06-28T15:57:00.000-07:00

Since I have been on this trip I have been blessed to meet many very successful people and I have noticed that without exception they have exactly the same 7 things in common. These 7 things are not complicated. They don’t require you spending your hard earned money on courses or reading books or hiking it up a mountain to meet a guru. They don’t require you pawning your nana or trampling over your nearest and dearest as you scramble up the ladder of success. The bottom line is you know all these things already. They are staggeringly simple. What makes successful people different is that these 7 things are not something they do – or worse still try to do - it’s who they are. From their cells in their toes to their cells in their hair, it runs through the very core of them. They don’t think it. They are it. And that mastery is the difference between them and the rest of the world.

Over the next few posts I will be sharing each one of the tenets in greater detail.

How to live on top of the world

2009-06-28T15:56:00.001-07:00

Taken from the centre of the Welcome Wall in Sydney

‘The wind was now fair, the sky serene, though a little hazy, and the temperature of the air delightfully pleasant: joy sparkled in every countenance, and congratulations issued from every mouth. Ithaca itself was scarcely more longed for by Ulysses, than Botany Bay by the adventurers who have traversed so many thousand miles to take possession of it’ (Watkin Tench, arrived 1788, personal diary)

A short while ago one of my dear friends – the legendary Anita Langley - was trying to buy some stamps during a port stop on a Caribbean cruise. She came out of the post office and being the type of friendly person she is said to the couple going in, ‘You won’t be buying stamps in there. They haven’t got any.’ The couple going in, being the type of friendly people they are, started to chat too and within moments total strangers were becoming friends.

I am now trying to sit in their 19^th floor penthouse apartment in Sydney. I say trying to sit because I cannot take my eyes from their view and it is doing odd things to my physiology. Anita called her friends and told them what I was up to on this trip and – magically - they invited me to stay.

Their view is so extraordinary you would almost know it and by that I mean if you have the quintessential shot of cityscape views on your vision board or were even asked to describe one chances are it would look like this. It isn’t just breath taking, it’s jig making. I danced, unashamedly on their balcony this morning, grooving to nowt more than the music in my head and heart and grinning like a kid who has just been told they can believe in fairies again. As I said being here is doing weird and wonderful things to my physiology. My cells are colliding like ants on moshing.

My bed sits at the rear of the apartment and in the morning I only have to roll to my left to see the water of Sydney Harbour. I lay there in the soft, warmth and comfort of partial sleep, watching the sunlight throw a layer of shine on the sea below, feeling a layer of shine grow inside of me. Rainbows of light smooth a line across the balcony floor and lay like a ribbon of warm silk across my face.

I pad into the living room, my travelling feet welcoming the luxury of thick carpet. Their views run the entire length of the apartment. From the living room balcony you can see both the Anzac Bridge and the Harbour Bridge with little more than a turn of your head. In front of me stands the tall and proud skyscrapers of the CBD, glinting in the prosperous sunlight. In daylight it is exceptional, but at night it’s transfixing. As the reds and golds of the sunset wash the day out of the sky, I notice that across the water an empty building stands with an advertising hoarding emblazoned across its top. As if I hadn’t got the point yet it shouts the single sentence ‘WE’RE SEEING THE BIGGER PICTURE.’ Oh aren’t we just. I am travelling with eyes (and heart) wide open.

I could never ever get complacent about this view. I have sat on top of mountains and been less moved.

Suffice to say this wonderful couple (Rocky and Sharon) know a thing or two about success and from their happy countenance that is not just in the monetary sense. I am going to learn a lot – a lot – from these people.

How.....?

2009-06-25T20:14:00.000-07:00

I am sitting in a beach cafe in Terrigal, north of Sydney, trying to process the news that not has only Michael Jackson, but Farah Fawcett has died too. This is one of those moments that you know you will always remember where you were when you first heard the news. People are coming and going in the cafe saying, ‘have you heard?’ The surprise is palpable. I am stuck in a trance with time irrevocably lost as I try to process a degree of shock.

In the same way we all felt when Princess Diana died, hearing this news about Michael Jackson, I feel like I have lost someone I knew, without actually knowing them. He had such a tremendous impact on my life.

Like every other person my age I grew up listening to Michael Jackson and the Jackson Five. I grew up watching his dance videos and practicing all the moves in front of my TV, getting carpet burn as my feet slid across the floor. I had my first dances to his slow songs – and my first kisses. I cried to his slow songs as I experienced my first heart breaks and laughed to his songs as I experienced my first growing up joys.

I danced because of that man. And his sister Janet. It is that simple. And because of his inspiration to dance I felt the rhythm of not just the dance, but the rhythm of life in my body. His music was the sound track to my life and my memories.

His life may have been wrong in so many, many ways, but in many, many other ways it was right. This isn’t to condone any his wrongs. It’s just, as someone wisely said today, he flew as low as he flew high. He was made and he was broken. And like everything else in his life, the world watched and listened.

Probably for the first time in his life since he was about 6 years old he is going to experience some real peace now and I hope that that peace extends to his family and friends.

His light maybe gone but he was a candle that lit millions and long may that light burn.

How Health and Safety is not an Aussie term

2009-06-21T04:45:00.000-07:00

am sitting in my bedroom on my blow up mattress ostensibly talking to my mate on skype, but really hiding from the Canberrian nutters that are letting fireworks off outside my bedroom window. It’s Queen’s Birthday weekend and thus a public holiday and a time to get pissed and eat copious quantities of incinerated barbequed meat and let some fireworks off. Aussies do it all at the same time I am finding out. And by that I mean a beer in one hand, a burger in the other and a lit firework wedged in the armpit. I watched them pile the fireworks on the table for about 30 minutes. If I stood on the table the mound would be about knee deep in things that go boom very loudly.

‘BLOODY HELL!’ I yell at my mate, ‘CAN YOU NOT HEAR THAT? JESUS H CHRIST. THAT ONE JUST ACTUALLY ROCKED THE WINDOWS! I MEAN LITERALLY ROCKED THEM.’

‘Hear what? Why are you shouting?' she asks in her typical, demure, unflappable way.

‘I am shouting because it is the only way to hear myself over the noise. And by noise I mean the war that is raging outside my window. The bombing war that is masquerading as a fireworks party.’

‘No. I can’t hear a thing.’

‘I can’t believe skype is that good. That last one was picked up on the Richter scale. Neighbours have started evacuating.’

‘What are they doing?’

‘Lobbing them at each other it seems. And then lobbing them across the ground. And that house shaker was when they actually lobbed one on the roof. Some sod is going to blow a hole through my ceiling and Cleveland or some other fella in a bath is going to land at the end of my bed in a minute. Oh, hang on...there is some commotion outside.’

'What is it? Do tell?'

'Believe it or not they have just found out that holding a beer in one hand, a burger in another and a firework under your arm is not a good plan. It just went off and hit someone in the stomach. He's showing everyone the burned hole in his jumper.'

‘It’s like boys having fun before health and safety was invented.’

‘It’s like boys having fun before common sense was invented. The only way to watch this in the garden is behind sand bags.’

I am still alive. Just.

How to feel like a ‘Princess’ of serendipity

2009-06-21T03:32:00.000-07:00

I stopped off at the shops on my way home, responding to that a little voice in inside my head that said ‘oooh, pretty, lets go in here.’

The owner of the shop, lets call him RA, was a talkative chap.

He had worked in the fashion industry for over 15 years as a stylist, for want of a better term. He had retired because he had seen too much of the ‘sickness’ of money. I told him some of my stories and how I now believe money doesn’t make the man, nor corrupt him. It just reveals what is already inside.

There are less than 50 people in the world capable of doing what RA does and only 2 reside in Australia. From the late 1980s to late 1990s he dressed and got up close and personal with every single one of the supermodels – that’s Linda, Claudia, Helena, Kristy, Naomi, Kate, Cindy and Heidi to name but a few - prepping them for catwalk shows and photo shoots. He was mentored by the Italian great Fiorucci who discovered RA when he saw him at a school event. RA had dressed one of Fiorucci’s relatives and Fiorucci just happened to be sitting in the crowd watching. RA was in his late teens then but jumped at the chance of going to Milan with Fiorucci. One career break and years of mentorship later and RA is a world leader, capable of charging 5 figure sums per hour (albeit retired now).

And I am now standing in front of him in my sweaty, stinky tracksuit.

I joke, ‘Well I would love to see you have a go at my travel wardrobe.’

RA walks to the shop door and flips the sign to ‘closed’ and says, ‘Well lets get to work then.’

Triangles of Light

He starts by showing me 2 catalogue pictures of Helena Christensen that are exactly the same. He asks me which one is more appealing. I point to one. He shows me how in this one there are extra ‘triangles of light’ and how in the other photograph he had coloured them in. By this he means the shafts of light that are revealed between buttons, openings in clothing and the draping of fabric. He explains that it is the size and amount of the light shown that makes a woman beautiful. The magic is in the mystery of what is being hinted at, but not revealed and the desire to see more. For example he says that many women make the mistake of pairing low cut, hipster jeans with a high cut top that exposes their tummy. What is considered more elegant and sexy is a longer top that exposes the flesh when a woman moves, for example if she reaches up for a shelf.

He starts pinching and tucking my top whilst I stand in front of the mirror. I find myself thinking I hope this guy is who he says he is.

‘This,’ he says, gesturing to the little rolls of back fat, pooling under my bra strap, ‘is ugly. This though’ gesturing to my stomach and line of my back, ‘is good and straight and firm. So we make loose here to cover shelves [shelves! Really?!] and make most of good stomach. You perfect though [a man that dressed supermodels said I was perfect. Please God can I have that tattooed on the underside of my eyelids. I think I just levitated] and look good.’

Over the course of the next 2 hours he folds the neck line of my shirt to show me how it should match the hang of my necklace, shows me the right length of necklace for the outfit and what type of heels I should wear with that so the necklace hangs just so on my chest. He shows me how to sit, stand, how to sit at a table and how to walk. He shows me the perfect shape of a dress for me (sweetheart neckline if you are interested) and tells me that pushing you breasts together for a cleavage is the worst thing you can do (apparently it’s better to push them up and out). He then tells me to buy a floaty, see-through, draped top and wear a vest underneath it. But – here’s the clincher – with no bra. Floaty see-through tops show the right amounts of light, without being too revealing, but the absence of a bra under a vest keeps you decent whilst hinting every now and again at something more. Especially if it is cold. It was like being at Trinny and Suannah grad school.

The tips kept flowing in a relentless manner until my brain gave up trying to process them and just hoped that some of the more important ones would go in and magically reappear before a night out.

[Footnote – went shopping today. Now own a rather sexy floaty top.]

How poems can say more sometimes

2009-06-18T06:56:00.000-07:00

Before everyone starts worrying this is an old poem I wrote at the time of split. I was urged to share it with you all. I think it covers more precisely what I was feeling at the time and as one of my lovely blog followers termed it how The Man went from being The Man to The Muse.

Whilst it was written about The Man (and I would stress I don't feel that way now) it resonates with me more now in respects to being about that missing that connection with oneself inside. In short that search for Home that I am beginning to find.

Anam cara is Gaelic and means soul friend. It is a teacher in the most ancient of senses. Someone that looks inside of you and sees you for who you are and unlocks your true path and potential in whatever way circumstances dictate. An anam cara is a mirror to the true you. John O Donohue wrote a fabulous book about it called Anam Cara for those of you who are interested.

So to the poem - I hope you like it.

I miss

I miss that fire. That light.

I miss looking in you and seeing me

Ignited.

I miss that feeling of being encircled by you and your words

That danced around me like fairies leading a child

through the doorway to the magic beyond.

I miss the unspoken stories that ran around me like spinning lights,

fulfilling me with their colours, entrancing me with their glow.

That diaphanous orb of you draped around me like silk in a breeze,

tucking me in, every night, for another journey to the faraway lands.

Of me sitting up in wide-eyed wonder. Waiting, eager.

You let me go. My anam cara.

Pointing to another way I didn’t want to grow.

Now I spin instead. Not knowing which way is forward.

Alone in a secret space.

I miss that yellow energy. Of the gentlest winter sunshine

Resting in the warmth of faith

Resting in the gift of the only time there is

You and me floating on a sea

I miss that feeling I could run through the valleys of you and never stop.

Never reaching the core of what and where you were.

Never having a map for you as your lines moved forever,

And never caring

Just having endless, wonderful journeys

to the centre of you.

Happy to loose myself.

Wanting to lose myself.

For every time I did

I would find something new.

How to live in a beige city

2009-06-16T23:27:00.000-07:00

After a short hop up from Auckland I land in Sydney. I am heading towards Canberra where I am staying with my old friend Dale. Canberra is 3 hours drive away. If I was in England this would require intense discussion, a sat nav, regular traffic reports, Kalms tablets or Bachs rescue remedy and mellow Magic on the radio all the way. In Australia it’s treated like a quick trip to the shops.

I met Dale a few years ago when he came to stay in England. Our perverse senses of humour and love of psychology collided into a great friendship (read - permanent good hearted bantering session). He went back to Australia nearly a year ago and I haven’t seen him since. I see him walking towards me with this big grin on his face. He picks me up, swings me around and gives me the most enormous bear hug. Australia feels good already. As if to confirm this extra big dollop of happy the car next to Dale’s car sports the number plate BHAPPY. My point exactly.

The City of Beige

I had been warned about Canberra by Aussies, English people and Kiwis alike. ‘There is nothing to do there. Everything is beige, dull and sterile,’ they said. They have a fair point. Aside from some spots like Cotter, Gibraltar Falls and the New Parliament building (worth a look for the way it uses pyramids in its construction) it is duller than snooker on a black and white TV, but it doesn’t unduly bother me. This trip is about people in places, rather than the places themselves so I adapt to the life of my host. And Canberra is no exception. As Dale said to me, ‘It’s not a place for tourists. It’s a place to live. And if you live here it’s great.’

So ‘living’ is what I have done this past week. I settled into Dale’s place like a regular flatmate dealing with my normal life issues - primarily my university writing course - and considering the stress that created towards the final deadline I suddenly become very grateful for the fact I was ‘living’ in one spot and that Dale had good coffee.

How I am sure if I know Jack

At the end of the week of hard writing we went for a meal in a Chinese restaurant called Happys. The queue boded well for the fact the food was good, but not for the fact we would get seated this side of the weekend. The group in front of us asked us to join them and 3 became 7. They were an interesting bunch. We had a lively male joker, a pregnant lady who was well overdue, her husband who seemed to be an astute, well read, spiritual type and a wiry, energetic, female archaeologist. The predicted dullness of Canberra stepped aside for a night of intriguing, impromptu and semi drunken conversation. 2 such snippets were:

1. How did ancient Muslims in Australia know where Mecca was? This is not a racist question before anyone gets on their high or low horse. The Archaeologist was working on a project investigating the Islamic presence in Australia eons ago. I have neither researched this nor can remember it in full detail, but suffice to say Arabs and their ships of the desert (ie camels) were shipped into Australia because the Caucasians didn’t know how to navigate the hot bits in the middle. If you don’t know get a man that does. Her research was asking the question ‘how did they know which direction to pray when so far from home without compasses?’ To illustrate her point when we got relocated to an adjacent table she placed a sauce bottle on the old table and said, ‘That is Mecca (apologies to those who need them). Now we are at a new table how do you know which way is Mecca on the old table?’ I couldn’t tell her. Turns out they used stars. How they did this during the day or when it was cloudy I don’t know.

2. So you want to fix men and be rescued by them? – Being the traveller I get quizzed a lot. There is always a search for both common and uncommon ground between new friends of different nations.

TV is a staple topic. People like to know how it differs abroad and in the most part love the variety of English TV. So far wherever I have gone ‘Family Guy’ has been the one show with guaranteed universal appeal. If you can fling some choice Stewie and Peter catch phrases into a conversation you are in. At this conversation though, I happened to bring up ’24’ one of my favourite programmes and the fact that Jack Bauer is rather fit.

‘So you want a man that you can fix then?’ states Husband of Pregnant Lady, rather bluntly.

‘What? Eh, no. I just meant he was handsome, brooding, and can kick arse. He does what he needs to to make it right and will go to the ends of the earth to do so.’

‘And that is what you want a man to do for you. To save you. ‘

‘Ha. He’s the modern day knight in CTU armour,’ piped up Lively Joker.

The spring roll paused on its way to my mouth. I wasn’t expecting such open heart analysis from total and now very drunk strangers over my entrees. My brain began picking over previous boyfriend choices with an awareness that was obvious as the chilli sauce in my mouth.

Even as adult females we are still subjected to the ‘fairy tale.’