Stepping stones

Early autumn

After a tragic event has occurred the phrase 'moving on' is tossed around a lot, stepping onto the next stone despite how unpredictably wobbly it is -- but how long is that process supposed to take? What is the time bracket one's given before things start to get slightly easier? I've always found, with regards to the 'big black spots' (the darker events in your life that made a significant impact on your reality today), normality and growth only comes from acceptance, and acceptance is spurred on by talking about what happened. Something a friend said to me a few years ago that I'll always remember for its concise honesty - "everyone has shit going on, and everyone thinks their shit is the worst". And isn't that true? Of course relativism plays a role, and we only really have our lives to compare our 'shit' to - but in the grander scheme of things, we're probably a lot better off than many others.

Eva in the park - I love the innocence of kids

By getting out of your own head, where your mind has the power to turn the bat of a butterflies wing into a hurricane, you're able to 'move on' - in relation to the tragic experience I'm talking about, this means talking about my beloved uncle, his death and his life that many people seem to leave out. This applies to all tragedies, why hang onto the final few seconds of darkness, when the long and prosperous life that lead up to it serves for far more topics of conversation.

--
What I find fairly dangerous is that comforting feeling of dwelling in your own pool of grief, the 'poor-me' scenario that you need to pull yourself out of, especially when there are others more deeply affected than you - time to stop being selfish. It's actually comforting sharing the hurt with others.

I'm sitting on beanbags underneath my windowsill - it's beautiful today. I'm learning about London, I always had the impression that leading up to winter everything would become grey, wet and miserable. But the sun still shines! The temperature drops and the parks are no longer full of hundreds of people in their bikini's, having picnics or playing rounders and footie - but instead a more gentle approach to life begins, warm coats and flushed cheeks, babies wrapped up in blankets and the appreciation of a warm bed. Given, I am slightly afraid of turning into an ice-cube come Christmas but we'll deal with that when we get there. 

The phantom house

My routine's up and down now but my regular dabble in yoga maintains a level of stability amongst the chaos. Interestingly a lot of people I know are starting to find meditation, astro-projection and all those far-out concepts that don't get enough credit. I was standing at the train-station the other day thinking about that stability. Yoga to me, was essentially a pause - an escape from the buzz of reality to clear your head and get in touch with yourself free of distractions. Now I'm learning the importance of applying your escape to your reality. In meditation you're taught to just heighten your awareness, your senses - you hear what's around you, feel your surroundings, taste the presence and smell the now. But that should always happen - it's so easy to slip into your own zone when walking down the street, stuck in your thoughts rather than understanding what's happening everywhere at that moment. The lights of the train shone through the darkness and I looked up to see a white house peeping above the stone archway that framed the approaching train. The way the sun hit the white wall almost turned it into a phantom house - momentary awareness. 

I know it's cliché, but at least it's authentic?
Devon 2012

After having spoken to a lot of my friends, I've found lots of people doubt their ability to meditate or focus, so without sounding patronizing can I just say it's ok to find it difficult to hold that focus no matter how long you have done it for. When I close my eyes I first have to get over the 'thought barrier'. Under this invisible line are a million thoughts ramming into each other, 'breakfast this morning, booking flights, oyster cards, money, work, food' the list goes on. But above the buzz it's more of a clear white haze that doesn't require concentration
. 

Enough of the mystical - Saturday's beginning and I still have no sense of time. When you leave 'school-mode' and enter 'work-mode' weekends lose their meaning. A 14 hour shift on a Friday's one to dread, and a Monday's a walk in the park. Today's topsy turvy, and to get to the end you've just got to take the step and try not to get wet. 

Recipe of the day: Autumn cherry samosas (I was surprised when I saw this recipe too.. but so worth it)
http://www.fnfoods.co.uk/recipes/recipe-cherry-samosas.html

The monster in the closet

Most people live their lives in a seemingly monotonous way, we have our routines and schedules - society shapes what we do whether it's attending school, sitting in an office or handing out fliers. Of course there's leeway and space for choice but ultimately it's all pre-determined unless we decide to fly completely off the tracks and disregard the laws that have been created for us, resulting in being given a label like 'insane', of course there are institutions for that 'condition' as well. The point of this rant is that when life throws things at you that are out of the blue, that bump you out of auto-pilot mode and cause you to actively change course or process whatever card you've been dealt, it makes us more alive again.

Uncle P I found you on google!

Today I received an incredibly daunting whatssap from my dad before our weekly skype chat (scheduled due to time difference): 'I have some bad news.' It's interesting how at those moments you suddenly understand the difference between thinking with your heart and your head. I felt like I was being gripped and my bodily response was 'all signals alert' as I sat at my computer with a furrowed brow, slowly pressing down the green 'answer call' button with shaking fingers to engage in a conversation that I knew would leave me in tears. 

My uncle Patrick Sandeman passed away today, the family had been wondering who would tell me before I saw it across the news on TV. He always lived on the edge hence his passion in skydiving. A few hours ago a fluke collision occurred between himself and another skydiver causing him to die on impact, hopefully in a moment of complete exhilaration and excitement after having had three amazing kids, a loving marriage and a successful career. My thoughts and tears today go out to them all. 

The conversation I had with my family over skype was an hour of no ego, all defences down. The importance of all the small things that we'd quibble about or discuss, the little worries like money or what time I was getting to bed every night lost their significance and everyone just sat shaking their heads, with red puffy eyes and wet cheeks. The image sounds depressing but it was really a moment of understanding and awakening.

My uncle :)
http://uk.news.yahoo.com/tribute-skydiving-plunge-victim-053009777.html

I don't like the idea that life requires certain ups and downs to appreciate things or to keep yourself in check. One rarely pays full appreciation to life until they experience the pain of dealing with a death, the feeling of love isn't appreciated until the pain of heartbreak has been felt and a great night out isn't enjoyed unless there are a few bad ones to compare it to. But having those episodes and moments that we don't ask for or expect, or have planned out in our leather-back diaries, those episodes keep us alive and aware.

I woke up this morning moaning about the cuts on my back that stung when the water hit them in the shower. That was the worst thing going on in my life at that moment, but now it doesn't seem to matter and is at the bottom of my worry list-- Unfortunately today the monster in the closet made the children scream and not laugh but the family's unifying and the pillars are forming for those most deeply affected, to support them through this time of tragedy.


Tea of the day: Vanilla-earl grey (the tea for sadness)
http://www.teamotionstea.com/blog/?page_id=20

The smoke that blushed

Street art I found in East London

Yesterday i was walking through Camden and infront of me a bellow of blue and pink smoke was coming out of a huge industrial dark chimney. It was one of those tiny details amidst a normal routine that puts a smile on your face, I was just waiting for a suitable accompaniment of rainbows, fairies and candy canes to shower down upon the unsuspecting landscape. Below the dreamlike smoke were swarms of preoccupied individuals going about their daily lives with their heads down looking at their phones or buzzing in their own thought bubbles. 

Even though we all share the same environment, we are such seperate entities and our society only emphasizes the fact. We have our own entertainment to start, ipods, phones, books, newspapers. We're tuned into our own thoughts and feelings, and we rarely attempt to merge into the more communal world and really interact with/ feel what's going on around us. We have conversations and link in to one or two other people's fields of existence but we are primarily individuals. Yet what strikes me as odd, is in psychology, one of the sociocultural principles is 'humans feel a need to belong'; within this principle lies the idea that we rely on each other to survive, our whole community and society is built up of various blocks, from farmers to shopkeepers to businessmen, if one stage didn't exist, the rest of our pyramid would fall apart. It's so hard to switch everything off when sometimes it's just a force of habit, and it almost instills fear when you think of the idea of not being able to communicate with everyone in your life for one moment. It scares me when I start to panic after only a day of not checking my emails - but at the same time, in feeling 'connected' to everyone, it creates such a huge disconnect with your physical reality causing a whole percentage of our awareness, and sense of presence to fly out the window. 

East London again

It's funny, when we were younger in 'world studies' we went over the theory's that two great philosophers had about the true characteristics of human beings. Aristotle and Plato I think it was, were more positive about us, they truly believed humans were able to act for the benefit of others and not for self-gain. Whilst Hobbes on the other hand believed humans were completely selfish and every act was for self-gain even if it wasn't conciously done for that purpose. Lets look at a few examples: In helping someone carry their bags up the stairs, you gain satisfaction and content. In having a child, you set yourself up with what will become a physical, emotional and financial support system (that especially benefits you in your older years), in opening yourself up in a relationship 'for' the other person, you gain love, support and all that jazz. Hobbes commonly used the example of letting individuals loose in a sweet shop, or a bank, and taking away rules - what happens? We'd go crazy and grab everything we could, not stand around holding hands. A more recent and solid example is last year when the raids took place in London and the more primal side of the community was revealed, looting shops, stealing whatever there was to steal, getting violent, using weapons etc.

.. And again

When I first learnt about these philosophies, we were asked to give our opinion on whom we agreed with, I chose the more optimistic view. Thinking of humans as purely selfish and evil just didn't float my boat. But as I've grown up and my eyes have widened to the reality of the world, I do believe Hobbes was right, as pessimistic as the idea may be. Our main goal as mammals is to survive - but to do this it does involve helping, supporting and interacting with others, so though at its core our nature may not be full of rainbows and fairies, it does manifest positive outcomes.. but back to where I started.

Street art in Neasden

As I was watching the smoke drift over the conker trees, grey buildings, and billboards advertising the latest and most lustrous hair shampoo! I thought of a poem that made me smile, it was written by a great friend that sadly passed away last year - but her gift of writing should always be appreciated:

People don’t look up. 
They spend their lives absorbed in their feet,
in the pavements,
in the leaves and dirt,
in the rubbish discarded on the streets. 
This is what we seem to be fascinated by, 
only daring to lift our heads when someone points out how beautiful the sunset is, 
or a bird, or rarely, 
occasionally, 
something above their normal eyeline.
There could be entire goddamn cities on rooftops and no-one would notice. 

- Cameron Krokatsis 

I remember this poem when I lean over my windowsill and watch passers by. It reminds me to look up once in a while when I'm strolling through an empty street. The other day a little girl in a blue school uniform with dark red hair, was sitting by the window gazing out at the empty street with a melancholy stare. What was going on in her mind was a mystery to me but the image the mystery created was beautiful. 

Time to get out of my head and check what's next on my to-do-list, deep breath!


 Recipe of the day: Fairy Cakes

http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/fairycakes_93711

Crazy Camden

Amy at large

So my main income at the moment is trickling in from a little Tapaz bar situated just outside the heart of Camden. Walking up the high street you see an eclectic bunch to say the least, big punk/ goth scene, lots of piercings, knee-high black boots with metal projections scattered all over the place. Piercings everywhere, pink, blue and purple hair - it's like entering an episode of futurama. You also have the rasta's, yellow red and green flags, hats with fake dreads and walk into any shop along the high street to take your pick from a variety of bongs, pipes and other smoking devices (not to mention the potent 'skunk' and hallucinagenic 'legal' mushrooms sold over the counter supposedly imported from Amsterdam, but full of perfectly healthy artificial chemicals instead). There are other looks out here but those two are probably the most eye catching.

Up the high street

The vibrancy in Camden is undeniable, the crib of Whinehouse and countless other carefree souls - I walked through 'Camden Lock' the other day, past all the food: Jamaican, Indian, Chinese and Moroccan stalls (that each had sneaky tasters to munch on along the way). Colourful motorbikes were lined up in rows and had been turned into seats and tables to eat at while gazing over the lazy canal. I stood on the edge of the bridge and leaned over the side for a breather, water always seems to have a calming effect. In yoga the belief is water cleanses your aura - and think about it, it makes sense. A shower first thing wakes you up, jolting your sleep-ridden aura with a flash of hot or cold and before bed, the stress of the day is cleansed aswell. There are specific times that it's believed one should 'bathe', and specific temperatures of water. For example, it's believed to be best to shower as the sun rises, in tune with your natural body cycle as our pineal gland responds to light cues and releases the hormone melatonin that naturally wakes us up and puts us to sleep in conjunction with various other hormones and glands. So a cold shower as the sun rises is most beneficial as it rejuvinates the cells and closes the pores, putting you in 'alert and awake' mode as opposed to starting the day feeling drowsy after a nice hot shower. To be fair, living in a cold country, where getting out of bed isn't the most exciting prospect, cold showers may not be the best idea, sending you into a state of hypothermia especially during the winter months. I've grown up swimming aswell and yes, it may feel the same with every sport, but after a good session in the pool your whole mind and body feels completely purified. It could have something to do with the fact that the colour of water (blue) corresponds with the colour of our third eye chakra located between the eyes that's responsible for your intuition and is the primary focus during meditation. Each chakra corresponds to a different colour, and by wearing/ surrounding yourself with that colour you serve to 'expand' if you will, the powers/ properties that the chakra holds. So a dip in the pool may do more thank you think! A lot of my friends think of 'chakra talk' as airy fairy, but this incredible youtube video called 'spirit science' will explain exactly what I mean in scientific terms, for all you logical left brained folk (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oLFlJSlD4YM)

Rastafari

But back to Camden:
One of my great girlfriends is in Barcelona at the moment having a crazy time in a crazy youth hostel that never sleeps - and a hot topic of conversation during these summer months, is flings/ romances, just boys in general. I've been given the same piece of advice numerous times on this topic 'go for someone at work', now let's go through the choices that my lovely Tapaz Bar has to offer - A coke head, bitter divorcee's with kids, or pervy Thai chefs. A strange combo or what? Let me fill in the gaps -
My boss is a wide eyed, bald headed, tall, fit and intimidating man who 'used' to have a huge coke addiction. There would literally be white mountains in the downstairs kitchen for a quick sniff 'inbetween-service breaks' resulting in a manic and highly confident restaurant owner. Due to his natural manic and wide eyed nature, none of the customers could tell, but the behind-the-bar gurning (jaw grinding) and the constant eye twitches were noticable enough. In his 40's he's not as 'addicted' per say and brushes it off as a fun few youthful years. But his coked-up nature means no one questions his unfair method of paying our wages (that is dependant on his sporadic mood swings - if he's happy, so are we, if he's not, the pay resembles what you'd find in a hobo's wallet. - but we get something, so we don't complain.) So there's the boss, and as it's a family run business, his nephew (depressed divorcee with 2 kids who lives above the restaurant and will probably still be there in 40 years time), sister (also from a broken family, but the loveliest of them all) and brother in law (one of the many pervy thai chefs) all work alongside him, and hate.his.guts. Literally, the moment he walks out of the room it turns into a full on bitch session with everyone chiming in and saying their part - it's quite entertaining to be honest. The moment he steps back in, it's all halo's and angel wings.

Another big blogger - 'the rock and roll Camden bride'

One of the waiters, who no one particularly warms to, (though I seem to have cracked his bitter shell and seen his soft side which isn't half-bad when he lifts out of his cold-hard comfort zone) has been working at the restaurant for the entire 30 years it's been open. Ironically he went to school with the boss, and was the wealthy kid who grew up in Chelsea, while boss-man grew up in the dodgy side of south London - didn't turn out to foreshadow their future professions. He's divorced from a drug addict who he hates with a passion, has 2 kids and works as a sandwich man, a chauffeur and a waiter all part time, and purely to earn money to survive - with no hint of love or passion for what he does whatsoever only adding to his bitter list of things to complain about (that we get to hear about every day, woop!)
And lastly the chef's, they're lovely really; it may just be my naivity, but they cook me amazing food and teach me Thai so I don't complain. It's when the comments like 'let me take a picture of you' and 'I love you' start rolling in that I become slightly more weary of what I'm getting into. There are 4 of us waitresses, I'm the baby of them all but we all get a long really well and have a laugh about the men we've landed ourselves with. Each of us have a secret admirer, J was chosen by the depressed divorcee/ nephew of the boss - all of us egg him on just for the fun of it. E was chosen by the cleaner from the Congo who's a Jahova's witness and constantly going on about his 'brothers and sisters' from the church and lecturing us on the dangers of alcohol and tobacco. L was chosen by the sweetest Thai chef Max, who doesn't speak a word of english but spends his days smiling away washing dishes and helping us with the laborious task of ice cream scooping. I've landed myself the head chef - quick life summary: Married to a  crazy Thai woman, has 2 kids, very good looking, gave up drinking and smoking but still a huge gambler - and cooks amazing food. If it wasn't for the family situation and the fact that he's 20 years older than me, he'd be up for consideration - but for now, getting great food and the odd compliment doesn't sit too badly - the pervy grins and comments are just something i'll have to deal with.

This is what customers see. Behind the scenes
is a whoole different ball game

Last Friday J and I had a double shift together (13.5 hours of running up and down stairs with plates of food and glasses), the running wasn't so bad, it was more dealing with the bosses constant drone and finicky requests, sharing the pain with someone definitely made it easier - what's nice about working with this bunch is we get offered copious amounts of amazing wine (wine education - what a bonus! Got my cocktail-party talk down), and since I only need half a glass to knock me out, my waitressing experiences have become slightly more exciting, and blurry. Given, I do get slightly clumsier (demonstrated by the various trays of glasses I've managed to drop as a result of tripping over my own feet...), but customers suddenly seem more interesting and the banter picks up. The Asian glow isn't a great look though - so I tend to stick outside in the garden, shaded inconspicuously by the overhanging trees. But anyway, on Friday we were given our usual glasses of wine, and were planning on going out for drinks after work anyway, so it seemed a perfect time for pre's - by the end of the shift I was talking nonsense and spinning around between the tables in circles, J was laughing at me uncontrollably, trying to polish wine glasses, the boss was downstairs in the walk-in, gurning like a machine, as was the bitter waiter S. What made the scene even more bizarre, was the bosses unsuspecting 16 year old nephew who was sitting like a cherub with all of us, cleaning the coffee machine, completely unaware of the intoxicated crowd surrounding him. The rest of the night followed suit and our heads entered into the blurry Friday night buzz of Camden - the morning-after-thumping that only I could hear, was not as pleasant.
I um'd and ah'd about mentioning my crazy workplace to my parents, expecting the defensive response of 'get out of there as soon as possible', but to my surprise, my mum replied with 'my ex-boss was a coke addict too!' And my dad gave me the seemingly obvious advice of 'don't accept any if you're offered, it will change the dynamic completely'. This 'being-treated-like-an-adult' thing is still something I'm getting used to, but the level of respect on the parent-child relationship scale has been bumped up a notch.

Our boss, to a T.

So that's my part-time life at the moment, i've let go of the reigns a little, and take waitressing in my stride instead of thinking of it as a strain just to get through.
My honey-soya chicken is sitting in the oven and the smell has dispersed into every corner of the room, i'm absolutely ravenous and can't wait for dinner. (Little side-note, lack of sleep decreases the amount of Leptin in your body - the hormone responsible for inhibiting your hunger drive - hence no sleep basically leads to uncontrollable munch - an experience I've found myself dealing with a bit too much as of late.) Mm, the timer just buzzed.


Recipe of the day: Baked soya, honey chicken with rice and salad 
http://allrecipes.com/recipe/baked-asian-style-honey-chicken/