THE FREEDOM IN SELF-ISOLATION

From day one of being born, the youngest of five siblings, I followed, I pleased and I obeyed everyone, such was the position and station in which I found myself.  I grew up in a society that was changing its values, and unknowingly became the bridge of self-expression against traditions.   

Rebellion was the order of the day, partly due to my order of birth that sufficiently suffocated any growth.  Despite that stunted progression, the enjoyment of annoying those in authority, became my target.

Rather than self-sabotage my failings, I will open a window of  my youthful rebellious nature.  For instance, traditionally in my country, every day of the week had a designated colour;  for example Monday’s designated Yellow, so the garment for that day was shades of amber..  

 It was a way to teach the days of the week for the less cerebrally gifted.   Never wanting to conform, my attire on Monday was purple denoting power.   Growing up was an uphill struggle, silently disobedient to authority. 

So when  forced to stay home, because of this world pandemic of Covid-19, my knee jerk reaction was defiance.   Unfortunately, the consequences were dire, so I knuckled under and began my discovery of freedom in self-isolation. 

 My learning curve allowed self understanding:

The freedom of meal-times; eat when hungry vs dictated by work meetings.

The freedom of cooking exquisite meals or happy-go-lucky two pieces of bread with something stuffed in between.

The freedom to read without distraction; serious mind provoking literature or crappy magazines for toiletry functions. 

The freedom to think philosophically without interruption. Expanding intellect or grappling modern diatribes.

Guiltless bingeing  on Netflix’s latest, HBO or Amazon or any docu-series that starts with titles like Pandemic, Quarantine or 93 Days of Ebola.

Lonely?   Video calls with friends, family anywhere in the world. Or pretend tindering.

List all things to self-improve.  List all those that cannot be improved.  Learn to be real.

Prioritize belongings.   Unused items over a year, is sent to the garbage. No excuse for hoarding.  None of these matter, if you are destined for near-future crematorium.

At the end of the day, when sleep is overdue, have gratitude for the day’s efforts.  When dawn descends, with another day to repeat, thank the lucky stars.  You are alive.  You have lots to give.  You have tons to receive.  

FINDING ME

The year 2020. A new decade.  And in its first week I can emphatically say I met my own soul. 

I had my second Reiki massage and Sound Healing with Stefanie Holzer in Bali.  The place known for its spiritual and mystical energy; the setting Nuko Beach Resort, Bali, a place filled with love.

Reiki massage different from the ordinary body massage detailed every muscle fibre I possessed releasing and draining the toxin, at the same time, unknotting all twisted tendons with her healing hands and breath.  This took me into a meditative state, and totally awake I began to feel a body and mind separation that happens when meditation is achieved. Every spinal cord where nerve tissues exit is treated with healing hands and Stefanie's breathing that seemingly guides the nerve endings infused with blood ready to receive what was coming next.  

In the alpha state of mind, a  distant depth of low sound waves invaded my space. I longed to grasp the hum in an effort trying to find its whereabouts.  Then another deep but louder volume that had me follow the sound for as far as it would allow.   A tiny ping, a higher octave and in this vacuum space I found a composite of nothing yet of everything.   It had cracks, it had smoothness, beautifully peaceful yet tangible.   It resembled a part of me, easily recognizable,  pure and welcoming.  This could only  be described as my soul.  The comfort, almost  an encompassing enveloping safe  place needed none of the trappings connected with human needs.  

It was timeless, it had love, it had innocence, it looked bare yet filled with history.  I so wanted to go inside but with guidance, I was ushered into infinite space  This  resembled what space must feel like.  There was no ceiling, no floor, nothing I could touch to match gravity, to match time.  There was no light to shine any pathway  It was something I was taught to dread, yet taking a step inside, I immediately knew it was the next phase of life by the sound of a louder deeper vibration -  death.   In the timeless vibration circling my entity, death was so beautiful.   We are programmed to avoid death, we do everything to bypass death. Our emotions are cracked, skewered over our loved ones departure,  We are scared of long projected ill health, discomfort from pain.  Live, live, live is what we are told for when the inevitable comes, there is no more.  

How untrue.

I now am liberated from this projected fear,  The “Ah-Ha” moment, a word  so ineloquently introduced by well known Oprah Winfrey but universally understood, was the fear of being left.  Through my soul, those that went before will shine a light when it is my turn.  No need for grief as the platform on which life connects with death should be celebratory as the next stage is just as exciting, adventurous and unknown.   Worthy of waiting.   Some of us wait to a century and more; some only two decades old; and some barely see the world, only to move on after a breath or two.

Liberate yourself, with hope you might be just as lucky to find a Stefanie to lead the way.

WOKING PIZZA AND I

WOKING PIZZA

Liar Liar your pants on Fire

We all got secrets.  Trying to hide them is an impossibility, especially on screen.  Right-out lies or half truths; gets mangled, tortured facial features are all laid bare to see; while the brain works at break-neck speed to cover any residual lies.

With increased technology speed, so fast even high-tech geeks constantly brain-reboot to keep up to date.  Some view it as detrimental to society.  I view it with positive aspects.  

It's a personality defect we are all born with, lies are the basic instinct of protection.  Facing the truth of one's own wrong doing increases a better society.   Religious institutions will have one less subject to pour down our throats.   

Born privileged, we can escape the rules - the 2 G's.  God and Government.  Born rich, we can only escape one rule.  How do the surviving workforce, poor and underprivileged emulate goodness?  They are told to have faith in God's teachings.  How confusing this must be to come to a conclusion.

The few British traits of the stiff upper lip; the sanctity of "my word is my honor"; seems to have vanished overnight.  That impeccable honorable trait tainted when BBC interviewed a member of their well respected ruling class of his unbecoming conduct.  Excuse me by my polite term of a 'liar'.

As a non Brit married to a Brit, steeped with English education, my thoughts on William Windsor has a huge heritage to uphold while all around him falls by the wayside.  Whether the compass points to  Netflix's third season of the Crown; to his father; even his mother; or recently by his brother; now his uncle brings the scale down on the balance of his grandmother's 67 years of great reign.

While all eyes and ears are on Andrew, waiting for the fallout, let us look to our imperfect selves and try to correct our deviant behavior, privileged or not, as a self sacrifice to the behavior for the  next generation.

TILL DEATH DO US PART

AN ODE TO BEE & BEN

A thought passed through  my mind as I witnessed recently a beautiful wedding . Those vows said by millions in front of their supreme faith, or just between themselves, hold weight in increments of decades together, are never truly valued at the time the vows were first made.

I witnessed a blooming love affair three years ago when my young friend brought over her "stray-beach find" in the form of  an introduction to me. To test an open minded friend/relative, before the parental definitive acceptance.  For this was an interracial relationship, as is my own.

My silent instant reaction was "if you think you can engage yourself in these people's lives, you need to step up and show what you are made of".   My loud and vocal reaction was, "hell yeah, enjoy yourselves".

Last week the not so young but dashing man, at their wedding, did one important action of showing his love, devotion to all.  By demonstrating his seriousness in protecting and loving his bride with one impressive action alone; he properly learnt to speak the Thai language in  making an eloquent speech showing true commitment and understanding.

Linguistically gifted aside, apart from his native New Zealand twang, he spoke fluent French.  Through language, he has understood and accepted the many layers of the culture, tradition and remained his true self.   This is a beautiful platform in the longevity of married life in respecting each ridiculousness of tradition or custom that appears irrational.

Shared ups and downs, journeying through crevices of disappointments; and peaks of success; good health and illness's and inevitable old age.   Arriving at this juncture, I have witnessed true commitment and the uniting of two cultures regardless of how others perceive.  Be true to yourselves and let no one, culture or tradition come into your four walls. 

There are no secrets to a happy marriage.  To each his own.  There lies only one important factor. Through time, the silent vow to yourself, or to your supreme faith, is held accountable only by you.   Instead of the many congratulations, jubilations, and overwhelming love that  the couple have received, I offer my deep belief on taking this important step to last  -  

                                     Till death us do part.

THE FRENCH OPEN

Bum on tiny hard green seats under the afternoon's hot sun, or lounging at home on Talenti's exquisite chaise lounge, in ambient temperature? 

French cuisine shared under a luxury tent, only champagne served before the game;  or home cooked comfort food within arm's stretch?  

At both scenarios, the grunting sound accompanies a thud of racket hitting a served ball; either selection, eyes glued to two famous people fighting for the trophy.   

But I am happier to squeeze my butt cheeks into this cheap hard green bucket at Roland Garros's Philippe Chatrier Court, sipping Grand Cru at The Legend Lounge. The sexy grunts that accompanies the sound of racket hits ball draws the spectators to root for them, the louder the grunt the more it resembles the road to orgasm.   We all are aware of it, pretend it's non-existence yet the louder it becomes, the intensity of the fight going either way and the possibility of the game at finis, how it resembles that climatic peak.

Guests of Longine, the official Time Keeper of the French Open, I witnessed the rise of Djokovic, from his first entry in 2007 only 20 years old; too young for daughter's interest.  Watching him twelve years later, still too young for daughter, the Serbian's strength, the gift of his return serves is well known and talked about.

Reading this you would think that I am a tennis aficionado only I hate to disappoint.  It is the best of France that attracts me, Paris. George Cinq, Eiffel Tower,  French Champagne, Longine, Lobster Thermidor, Brie....Lourve, French impressionists, Macron..... don't let me bore you; anything to take my mind off  Brexit, Trump, May and my country's ineptitude at finding a Government after 10 weeks of a supposedly democratic election;  we still have an empty chair to run the country.  

It must be the alignment of the stars; the tilting of the earth, the mystical black hole.  I await the return of forward-thinking minds to bring a modernistic approach to doing things better - steal a little of Lee Kuan Yew's approach.  

TWENTY YEARS AGO TODAY

Hard to fathom its only 20 years ago and now its just down to one machine.

Hard to grasp its far reaching capabilities;  anywhere from trading on the Stock Exchange to ordering food while bingeing on Netflix's  must see.

Hard to grasp the choices of audio listening from Arianda Grande's latest hits; to Tony Robbins podcast on Achievement 

Hard to grasp freedom  granted to a hunted Saudi Arabian girl whose only possession she had was her Iphone and the clothes on her back.

The demands rests at your fingertips.  The stress level is constant.  Forever reaching out to placate our needs.

Not long ago my early morning wake-up was kissing  my husband, starting his day off with love and mine with excitement.  Today, my fingers stretch out ....grasping for the plugged-in Iphone, instead of spooning him for attention.

Not long ago, my morning fitness trapped me at home with Jane Fonda's video; now my GPS tracks my path on Runyon, it even tells me at this pace it would take 55 minutes.

Not long ago, I look up at the sky to see Pan Am flying into Guam packed full of goodies from Stateside.   Now I track all flights globally on my Plane Live for peace of mind that daughter's landed safe.

Ahead is possibility of advanced AI that thinks faster, acts faster, performs better - so  while they perform the hard tasks, let's nurture the neglected soul,  let's learn to give with gratitude.  

When we finally colonize another planet, let's not propagandize religion as faiths but bow to the Sun that revolves that gives life every day. 

When the Sun finally sets and the Moon takes over, let the mystique of  its light shine us out of darkness.

When demands of instant gratification is at the push of your fingertips, think carefully of the  reverberations it causes as pleasure becomes a cruel  trick.

RED - THE COLOR OF LIFE

Fiery Red Rubies holds       Power. 

Held as one of God's divine creations, Kings' and Queens'  adorn their Crowns with Rubies, admired as a symbol of power.

In the digital world today, with young technical savvy entrepreneurs, holding 8 digits in their bank account, does that symbolism of power still hold true?

Or could it be a success gage; the bigger the stone, the brighter the red, the bigger the bank balance.

Or could it be, the rarer the piece, the allure of the persuasion, the conquest of a woman.

As I am paraded through the world's finest collection of beautiful ruby necklaces, ruby rings, ruby bracelets; all for adorning the female gender.  Their total worth would take years of my salary put together.  I could not help to wonder.....  Made for women, by male craftsmen, sold by famous Houses owned by sons of original male owners, purchased by men to win over a woman's heart.

Quietly murmuring to myself, "how does such fiery red ruby adorn any girls' neck; seduction? dangling sexuality to inadequate fat-cats? "  

Am I kidding myself? Such staggering dazzling gems shine like lazer beams crisscrossing the room.  

No conflict going on in my mind; only why did I 

care so much when I was just a blooming flower yet unplucked?  As a feminist English writer Angela Carter once asked, "what is marriage but prostitution to one man instead of many?" 

Because when possession of such exquisite fiery red ruby from Myanmar, rests on such a fine décolletage; the lady in question holds power over her man, shoots her social position to stratospheric level. Using its redness with its strong associations with life's sustaining fluid.......much like blood ....the power of life.  

It is high time I introduce myself - I am Ruby.