The last of Ibiza

I wrote the following during my last week of summer in late September, 2017. A tad late, you could say given that I have since left Ibiza, moved to London, the seasons have changed and the snow has fallen and melted away. But this piece has remained, compartmentalised until I was in a space to unravel and re-wrap my memories of those mad, few months. It is not until now, as I sit on another flight, bound for another part of the world that I’m finally ready to wander back and tie up those last, loose strings…

27.09.2017

It is sunset as I write this blog, sitting on our makeshift lawn, on the top of our rooftop in San Matteu, Ibiza. I look above my screen at the pale blue sky with its streaks of pastel pink that are slightly hidden behind purple clusters of cloud. A thin, white slice of crescent moon hangs, unsuspectingly in the background. How beautiful it all is. The temperature is dropping now that autumn is coming, so I slip into my woollen jumper that has been tucked away in the depths of my wardrobe all summer - a sure sign that the season is truly coming to an end.

Trippy trips to trippy trees 

I think back to the beginning. I had chosen to spend my first few weeks fully absorbing the magic of everything and completely free from the constraints of work and routine. But realistically, that life was only destined to last for so long. Early one morning, I remember sitting in this exact spot, wondering whether I’d actually last the season; I now understood how expensive life was here and was already down to my last few pennies. So I meditated and set the intention on manifesting work; within 2 days I was suddenly absorbed in a busy new routine, working 6 nights a week behind a busy, Spanish bar at Can Cires, the local restaurant down the road. While it was tough, boy was I grateful. The islands magic lifted me up and spun me around and my job grounded me and brought me back down; it was the balancing force I desperately needed.

Yesterday was my last shift, so I chucked in my uniform, collected my pay and said my goodbyes. I strolled down the road and sat on the steps of the San Matteu church with B (the other waitress who I’d grown so fond of). We sipped on cañas and puffed on porros, laughing about our last few months together. We had survived the the wrath of our feisty boss, V; laughed through all the totally bizaare moments with the quirky chef, F (proud owner of a pet parrot and a donkey) and rolled our eyes each time one of the male waiters was fired or walked out (for one reason or another). The local drunks sat through it all, perching harmlessly on their bar stools and drinking their regular brew, night after night. B had trained me up tirelessly to meet the pedantic standards of V and F and now that we had finally found an easy flow, it was time to go.

The rooftop in the A.M

Sunrise jams

Beyond the working bubble, my favourite scenes of this summer surround the connections I’ve made to the special souls that this island attracts and the natural beauty that it has to offer. I smile as I remember the mornings when we would arrive back to this villa, our feet sore from dancing after another surreal night out with a beautiful crew. We’d make ourselves cosy, grab the guitar and sit out on this rooftop, jamming to our hearts content… and then our jaws would drop at the beauty of the sun rising above the misty mountains; the landscapes and colours forming a live painting, dancing across the colour spectrum; the sky’s here, are like nowhere else in the world.

Magical connections

The pink hues of the sunrise merge in my mind with the pink rock from another of my favourite moments a few weeks ago... We had been told of a secret cave that only a few knew about (or so we liked to think). It was a 15 minute swim off the bay of a paradise beach that we had gathered on for the day. We all jumped off the pier and swam through the deep blue water, splashing around like playful dolphins. Our friend who had been there before eventually spotted the obscure, dark hole on the inside of the rock face so we paddled closer. We took turns choosing our moment to flow with the surge of the wave, narrowly ducking our heads under the jagged rock. What we discovered inside was magical. We each held our breath and dived under the wall of rock that was submerged about 1m deep in the centre of the cave. I came up for air, wiped the salty water out of my eyes and looked around me in awe at the pink rock rising out of the turquoise water; it was truly spectacular. We climbed out and lay our beautiful, half naked bodies against it, illuminated by a stream of sunlight that shone through the gap. Those were the special moments.

R and I at Es Vedra rock

The window into our room

R and I spent my last few days saying our goodbyes and trying to tick off as many adventures on our bucket list as we could. So much of this summer had consisted of amazing nights out watching DJ’s (that I still can’t name) and although it had been great fun, we now craved a bit of simplicity and calm; tapaz in a local Spanish bar, cañas on the beach, a trip to Es Vedra, perhaps? On one of my last afternoons, we were sitting in a quaint café in Ibiza town, sipping on a coffee. On a public bench nearby sat four elderly locals. They were just sitting and chatting about their day, enjoying long, silent pauses in-between their sentences. I looked at each of their worn, wrinkly faces that held such character. How content they all looked. The old faces of Ibiza, enjoying life’s simplicity; that’s what I craved.

Calm.

The sun has set now and the sky is again alight with stars. R and I have made it through the season in this beautiful, hectic, 10 person, fear and loathing-esque villa and we've come out the other end more connected than ever. Despite the amazing moments, I have seen and learned about the darkness and corruption that exists beneath this hedonistic, party island and its effect on the people it draws in. So as a final gesture, I let go of my flowery vision of Ibiza being an island filled with hippies in the hills; I'm not sure if I will return again next year. But I will take away the memories, the great lessons I have learned and an experience that will last a lifetime. A huge, heartfelt thank you to R, for introducing me to a whole new world. Now it’s time for the next adventure of life in London!

A night in India

Sunrise across the pool

We were two weeks into life in Ibiza and our next task was to host an Indian dinner for 30 people at Can Cires, the Spanish restaurant that I’d stumbled across a week ago. Life kind of flows like that here; it’s like a domino effect, opportunities randomly arise and just snowball off one another. When the owner V first suggested that we host weekly dinners at their restaurant, I half thought to myself that it would be one of those great ideas that was spoken about but never materialised; I mean the doubt was rational, I enjoyed cooking meals for friends and family but neither I nor R had ever worked in a professional kitchen let alone catered for 30 people before. I pictured all the scenarios in which it could go horribly wrong… and then I pictured tables of people sitting under candlelight, enjoying colourful plates of curry and coriander with whisps of incense adding to the atmosphere. ‘Wouldn’t it be cool if we managed to pull it off’, I thought to myself. I began creating the menu in my head and my senses went running wild as I imagined colourful combinations of amazing flavours that I’d grown up eating variations of in India and Sri Lanka. I decided on the classics; Saag Aloo: Creamy spinach curry with potatoes and chickpeas, Aloo Gobi: Dry cauliflower and potato curry and turmeric dhal. R designed the perfect menu using Photoshop, sweet and simple just as I’d imagined. The night was called ‘Una Noche en La India’ - A night in India and after the click of a few buttons, it was out there and we were locked in with 5 days to go.

C & I, the morning after

During the weekend before we hosted the dinner my great friend C from high school came to visit. It was her first time here so we chose a night out in one of Ibiza’s super clubs, Amnesia that could hold up to 9000 people. It was truly something to behold as the first rays of sun streamed through the glass ceiling of the main room; the energy peaked at 7am as the last tribal beats boomed through the speakers sending everyone into a morning trance. We arrived back at the villa that morning as the sun was shining off the pool and the rolling hills turning a vivid green in the background; it was all too beautiful to go to sleep! But by the end of the day, my temperature gage began to waver and I could feel my energy reserves depleting. Despite it being 35° outside I lay shivering in bed under a thousand layers of clothes, wishing I’d made the sensible decision to sleep. C flew back to Madrid the next morning after an amazing weekend together and my head hit the pillow. I drifted in and out of feverish sleep over the next 2 days with weird aches and pains moving their way through my body. ‘Please could I be better before our dinner… please’. I wondered how people here could handle 3 or 4 day benders with no sleep?! The thought of it both scared and amazed me at the same time…

1 day to go and it was time for the big food shop with V so I got out of bed and put on a strong face, resisting the urge to curl up in a ball and stay under the covers. We drove down to Ibiza town together and walked through the doors of the huge, industrial whole salers. I looked around, feeling dazed under the fluorescent lights and freezing cold under the harsh air conditioning. My phone that contained the list of ingredients ran out of battery the moment we’d arrived (of course) so I racked my foggy brain to think of what we needed; if I got it wrong now, we’d be screwed tomorrow. Deep breath. I walked down the first isle and my eyes landed on rows of tomatoes… here we go. I looked at the 50 different brands that lay in front of me in a state of complete indecision... this was going to be a long process. V wheeled the trolley as I shakily stacked it with supersize cans and boxes of fruit and veg. She held my arm every now and then with a concerned look on her face and I’d force a smile to reassure her that I’d be alright by tomorrow. 2 hours later, €300 down and a car full of food - we were finally done. V drove me to the pharmacy for a box of paracetemol to bring down the fever. We unloaded everything at the restaurant and I sat down, feeling the medicine kicking in as sweat droplets rapidly began forming on my brow. At last! The heat began draining from my body and I sat in the shade, drenched in sweat and gulping down my body weight in water. Suddenly, I felt cool and my mind felt clearer. One more sleep until the big day. Fingers crossed!

The final alarm rang and I felt a lightening bolt of energy shoot through my body, I missed that feeling. I hadn’t prepared anything for the day ahead so I hastily wrote down a last minute method. R and I rushed down to the restaurant on our moped, stressing out that we were later than arranged. But there was no need to rush as V sat calmly sipping on a cup of tea when we arrived and I remembered that we were on Spanish time. F was V’s husband and the head chef of the restaurant. This was the one day of the week that the restaurant closed and he was in the kitchen preparing for the following day. Much to his dismay, V asserted that he would lend a hand when it was needed and thank god, I don’t think he realised quite how much work he’d have to put in. As we entered the kitchen, I looked around feeling slightly overwhelmed. One step at a time, where would you start if you were doing this at home? I began delegating jobs for the food prep and slowly, the ball started rolling. It was a challenge attempting to communicate between a French chef, his Spanish wife, R’s English and my Spanglish but somehow, we managed to maintain a multi-lingual flow. It was 40° outside and as the curries bubbled away, I felt like I had entered a sort of spice infused delirium. All of a sudden, it was 7.30pm and in 1 hour the guests would arrive. A slight part of me wondered whether this would all go well… would people come? Would the food taste ok? What would we do if it was a total flop? I took another paracetemol and like a wave, the anxiety was followed by excitement and then exhaustion. 20 minutes left to shower and decompress.

We did it <3

We arrived at the restaurant as the tables were being laid by I, the new waitress that V had hired for her trial shift; it was all coming to life! R put on some Indian flute music and we stuck Nagchampa incense sticks in oranges that were scattered amongst the bushes around the terrace. We looked at our phones and my heart dropped as we received a stream of messages from mates that were either too skint, hung-over or far away to make it. The numbers were dropping and the heat was steadily rising in the kitchen as the rice bubbled away…

Our 6 housemates were the first to arrive and soon after, guests were streaming in and filling the tables. It was frantic in the kitchen and V was stressed out with the reality of instructing a group of amateurs, it was a guessing game after all. The table was set outside for the curries to be served in huge, clay pots buffet style. The waitress ran inside, ‘està lloviendo!’ = it was raining, shit. I chose the path of avoidance and busied myself in the kitchen - out of sight, out of mind? The umbrellas were put up and luckily, 10 minutes later the rain had subsided into a light drizzle; the night had been cleansed. F pulled the hot naan out of the oven and we began serving the curries, coriander and condiments. The night began to flow as I explained the dishes to guests in broken Spanish, floated between the tables and re-filled the clay pots with the help of R and I. 25 guests made it in the end and everyone was complimentary about the food which is all that mattered. With full bellies, they paid their bills and R and I began the big clean up. My adrenaline was wearing thin and the incense sticks had turned to ash, I could feel us moving into the calm after the storm. We’d done it. We left with a wealth of knowledge and €200 profit after all the costs, not bad for a first attempt. F decided it was too stressful to continue the weekly dinners on his one day off but they offered me a waitressing position instead; we paid our thanks and left feeling grateful for the experience and the month’s worth of leftover curry. My childhood dream of becoming a chef had been actualized and I was finally ready to let go of it, challenge complete.

Song of the Day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L-riOteQkmo

Ibiza begins

Beautiful Ibiza

Life has taken a few new turns and flipped 180° in the last couple of weeks; I went from having quiet days in Devon to silent nights in Islay and then finally flew back to England where the riddim changed again... R and his mates held their first event 'Moonlight' on the rooftop of an abandoned building in the middle of Birmingham; it was pure magic that was created that night amongst friends and family. A day later, as the sparkles were fading from our eyes we boarded a plane to... Ibiza.

And now we're finally settled in our new home! After all the commotion of the last few weeks, I sat still and closed my eyes; the shrill song of crickets permeated my eardrums and the odd interlude of birdsong added a sweet contrast to the harsh, dry morning. It's August now, a notoriously hot month in Ibiza; at 10am, the sun is already beating down on the pine trees and the dust particles from the roads are steadily rising. Our stark white villa and the few others that can be seen scattered around the red, earthy landscape glow like diamonds in a baron land. The turquoise pool in front of me adds to the mirage as do the beautiful tanned boys and girls that are intermittently draped around the poolside in teeny weeny bikini bottoms with bare nipples, it is all pretty surreal; DJ's, clubs, villa's, beaches, blue blue seas, breathtaking skylines and the most stunning selection of people as though each one has been carefully selected for a beach holiday shoot. I marvel at the sights; gorgeous girls parading their clubs logo down the beach to the beats of their resident DJ's, big hunky lads in tiny shorts strutting along Bora Bora beach with their guns blazing, eyes bulging and faces full of glitter; stray rastas blissed out with grins on their faces and celebrity couples sipping on cocktails at 'Cafe del Mar'.

Happy happy days

But aside from the flash and the grime of the party scene, I'm also discovering another side to Ibiza life. One evening, soon after I'd arrived a few of us lay on the rooftop watching the milky way and the vast expanse of stars in the night sky; when all the lights are off in the middle of the country side the view of the sky is so crystal clear. The wise words of Alan Watts dubbed over a spacey backing track sounded through the speakers; the perfect soundtrack as we all lay, humbled by the grandiosity of the universe that engulfed us. With each shooting star I saw, I repeated the affirmation that I'd been meditating on; I trust that I will find a routine that is creative, fun and fulfulling. I went to sleep that night with stars in my eyes.

N's birthday breakfast

The next day I decided to join my housemate L on a run. I wanted to get out of the villa, shake off the session and attempt to understand the geography of our surroundings. 10 of us share this beautiful villa that is situated in a remote spot between two lovely towns, Santa Gertrudis and Sant Matteu in North Ibiza. There is not a lot when it comes to surrounding infrastructure besides a few other villas that only hold aesthetic value. We tied our laces and started off, leaving a trail of dust behind us. We ran along the rows of pine trees that offered some much needed shade from the searing heat of the midday sun. As we curled around the windy roads we passed the idyllic little church that sits gracefully next to the other simple, rustic buildings that make up this pueblito (mini town). There were two little restaurants dotted along the side of the road and outside one in capital letters was written  'YOGA' - an unmistakable sign. I jogged through the dark, wooden door frame, red faced and out of breath to try my luck and potentially land a very convenient teaching gig. The owner listened to L and I blurt out all the Spanish we could think of in an attempt to get me a job. He listened to what we had to say, displaying no sign of amusement and then explained that they did not need any yoga teachers but perhaps they needed a waitress. He told me to return the next day to speak to his wife so I jogged on with their business card in hand, feeling hopeful that something new was on the horizon. 

A beautiful visit from J!

Ibiza famalam

The next day I went to speak to the owners wife... I'd debated going because I was feeling slightly anxious about my Spanish interview skills and had not yet been to sleep after my first all nighter at DC10. But R gave me a pep talk and after a lot of reassuring self-talk I decided to man up, change into some new clothes and walk there to build up some energy, it was only around the corner after all... I lead us down a beautiful road lined with pine trees just like the one we'd been down the other day. But after about 20 minutes we were still walking and there was no little church in sight... another 20 minutes passed and the heat began to do funny things to my brain. I sat down in the middle of the road, like a cross little girl waiting to be given an ice cream and carried the rest of the way. It was too hot to keep going and my confidence regarding my directional skills had veered off at the last bend. R sat down with me, positive as always and we talked it out until I was ready to carry on; we had to get out of the middle of the road at some point. Sweat was dripping down my face and as I stood up my dress stuck to my body, that shower I'd just had felt like it was so long ago now. The dry landscape was losing its romantic appeal as the never ending road wiggled in front of us for miles with no sign of a church. R pulled his phone out and good ol' Google Maps saved the day; I'm all about nature walks but it must be said, technology is bloody great sometimes. 1 hour after leaving the house, we'd arrived at the restaurant 'down the road'... it seemed we had gone down the wrong road to begin with and my directional skills perhaps needed a bit of fine tuning but at least we'd had a nice walk? 

Road breaks

The restaurant Can Cires was sweet; typically Spanish, quaint and rustic. As R and I waited for the owners wife, V to appear, a bright green parrot that was perched on the top of a chair looked at us with its beady red eyes incessantly repeating 'hola, hola, hola'. Bloody hell, what was I doing having a job interview after a session, I covered my head with my hands and took a deep breath. V came over to us and sat down; thankfully, she spoke English so half the pressure was off. I told her my story and she explained her vision. She wanted to bring the community together and create something different with the space but she needed someone to help create it. She showed us the beautiful, new outdoor yoga studio in the back garden with a view of the pine forests; a light breeze blew through and the cry of crickets began. We sat down on a wooden bench and began brainstorming ideas about holding yoga classes, workshops, talks... R mentioned that I loved to cook, the seed was planted and suddenly we were talking logistics of how to host an Indian themed dinner for 30 people... in one weeks time... what!? We left that restaurant 40 minutes later feeling completely baffled and overjoyed. That went better than expected, I thought. A creative opportunity to teach yoga, bring people together and hold creative events!? Yes. Manifestation: the process of giving energy to your dreams and turning them into your reality. It is a beautiful thing. 

As we walked home I felt grateful; the heat didn't matter now, the nerves had gone and the calm was setting in. We walked passed a small opening in the pine trees and I held R's hand and lead him through the gap into a clearing in the forest. The floor was covered with a bouncy layer of dried pine needles. We lay down and looked up through the circle of blue sky above our heads. I could feel the special quality of this island, it is built on crystal rock after all... I get the feeling that it has the effect of amplifying your intentions and I was learning to just be patient and let it happen. I was no longer in the rat race and things flowed at a different pace now, it was OK to slow down. The branches of the trees swayed lightly in the breeze; after being vertical on the tarmac road in the heat of the day, surrendering to gravity brought a real sense of relief. I felt like I was looking down on us lying there in the dappled sunlight, surrounded by pine needles; it was like the closing scene of a movie...

After a while, we stood up and began wondering back. Around the last bend on a stone by the side of the road sat a little, old Spanish lady, Una Abuelita. Her face was worn and full of brown wrinkles from the Spanish sun. She wore a simple, blue dress and a pair of sandals and was sat in the shade with her hands on her knees just observing life. What a beautiful scene, I thought. So simple and symbolic of local life here that functions at its own pace and pays respect to the importance of stillness and rest. It was a nice contrast to the non-stop movement of the parties, the glitz and the glamour. There is so much magic to absorb every moment here. R and I have carefully created our space of stillness within the locomotion and we are now diving head first in to the deep blue waters of this Mediterranean paradise. Over the next few days we began to discover what was beneath the surface as we engaged in our first creative pursuit, a night in India. To get there was a wavy journey to say the least but I'll save that for next time...

Song of the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=25KdkTipTJ0 

A final spell in KL

Morning meditations

There is something magical about waking up early in the English countryside. I lay in bed this morning after a weird dream with a lingering image of Robert Carlyle (i.e. Begbie from trainspotting) shouting at me aggressively in his thick Scottish accent with a cup of tea in his hand...  no doubt it was a distorted remnant from the movie last night but it left me feeling slightly bemused. As his voice slowly faded from my consciousness it was replaced by the soothing sound of bird song; mm, I love Devon. I glanced over at my phone to see that it was only 7.20am. Hmm... to sleep or not to sleep? My thumb automatically moved towards the seductive blue 'F' on the screen and my mind soon began to reel with the speed of my newsfeed. F indeed, what a suitable acronym; instant stimulation, brain.activated. I decided not to sleep and instead made the most of the morning with a meditation. It's quite nice when you can finally zone into holiday mode and feel rested enough to actually enjoy an early start...

J's graduation

Dad, J and I officially left Kuala Lumpur 2 weeks ago; my dad's mission at the Red Cross came to an end after what seemed like an eternity, my brother graduated from high school and I completed my internship with the UN. It was a full on 6 months. I moved back to KL after uni with the intention of re-grounding around family and luckily, my unpaid internship was perfectly timed to coincide with moving home. Working with child refugees was seriously tough and the layers of reality that began to unearth themselves initially hit me quite hard; listening to their stories about fleeing genocide, trafficking, rape, abuse and every other form of suffering a child should never have to experience. It was heavy but I hardened up fast to the reality that I was to engage with. I found my release through physical exercise, teaching yoga, jamming with C and sharing the stories with those who would listen. I became part of the ebb and flow of my child protection team and I grew to understand the natural therapeutic method they employed to handle the stress of the work; constantly talking to each other, sharing dark humour and the regular Friday mash up at Kubur, the graveyard bar (yes, it was actually at a graveyard). I also began to truly understand how the pressures of full-time work so easily lead to a culture of alcoholism.

The legend behind the sound

Last day of recording

In a funny turn of events, I also found a release through my alter-ego, Chloe. I managed to land myself a completely unexpected gig as a 'hyperactive, super happy, sugary sweet and absent minded' cartoon poodle named, Chloe. I adapted quite fast to my character that I have a funny feeling was typecast and I found myself speaking in an American accent to emphasise the 'super happy' vibe as I felt the slightly posh, English accent didn't quite cut it. Over 4 months we recorded 4 seasons of the English dubbed 'Bodhi and Friends' that is soon to be released. The cartoon was already a hit in China and the creators commissioned a production of the English version that was to be completed in a very limited time frame without changing the actual animation; therefore, the sound effects mostly consist of infantile Chinese-like squeals, the characters lips are slightly out of synch and the process was completed so fast that I don't even know the actual plot line. It was however, a very entertaining experience during which my childhood fantasies came to life. I am intrigued to see what the final product will be given that my understanding of the plot is based on random scenes like jumping off spaceships or fighting away dystopian cats with my wind power, if they dare threatened to ruin my flower garden...  

Finally making it to C's game

Life was busy but I loved having a routine and a stable base. New friends from abroad blew in like breaths of fresh air and old friends from high school passed through regularly, bringing moments of sweet nostalgia as we reminisced on the glory days and saw how far into adulthood we'd all come. Everyone was on such amazing, diverse paths. It's a beautiful thing, watching your friends succeed. Those 6 months passed like the blink of an eye and before I knew it, I was going to leaving dinners and the movers were packing our life into boxes, again. Mum and I sat on top of T's truck, ferrying the remnants of dad's furniture to her apartment with tears in our eyes. We spent our last few nights in Lanson Place, the serviced apartment that we had stayed in when we'd first moved to Malaysia, 8.5 years ago. 

KL Sunrise from our apartment

Reunion dinners at Suzy's

The change was inevitable and on the whole, we were prepared but J was experiencing the major shift of leaving school. The great upheaval, inherent to the international lifestyle that has you excited for the next step while grieving the loss of your greatest friends, as they disperse to all corners of the globe; the preparatory phase for a life of adaptation. The moving process was interestingly synchronised with the Sagittarius super moon; an energetic time of transformation and putting ideas into action. It couldn't have been more accurate; I was watching it play out all around me and feeling the metamorphosis internally as my long unwanted habits naturally fell away in favour of healthier pursuits. I was growing up and moving on, ready for the next phase of life in London.

We all flew away from the concrete jungle of Kuala Lumpur; mum and T went off to celebrate summer solstice Kundalini style in New Mexico while J, dad and I opted for some good ol' British R&R in the patchwork quilt of the English countryside..

Aaand we're back

Song of the Day: 
Beautiful Escape (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4QLYXPto0w4) 

Beneath the veil

My fantasy fades
As the stories flow
From the innocent
lips of the wounded.

To normalize a horror story
that repeats itself,
some call it the news
but for so many refugees
it is just their reality.

A buddhist would say
without suffering,
we would not be this way -
human that is.

But many do not have to wear
the scars of their suffering
on their cheeks,
or bodies.
A wire lashing
or knife attack.

When the pregnant child
with a toddler by her side,
stared at me through hardened eyes
and told me a tale
of the traumatised;
A father who raped her
A husband who fled
A mother who shunned her
And left her for dead.

Listening to the wounds
of the stateless
first brought tears to my eyes
But it has since become,
normalized.

Light workers
in a dark room
in a dark world
like the monsoon
that ruthlessly falls
on bare trees

Such is nature,
such is life
and Ignorance is bliss.
But when the veil lifts
the light either blinds
or you pull down the blinds
or wear tinted lenses
to protect your eyes
from the fateful moment
that you realize,
the screen before
through which you saw
was made of real.lies.

Perspective shifted,
veil lifted.

In.sight

It has the world surging at its fingertips,
so lost in the movement,
their gazes stay down,
their lips locked
as the paper flutters by.

With tired eyes,
the small things in life,
become pure bliss.
An exchange takes place through the pigeon hole,
they pass me the black liquid,
enclosed in a neat cardboard cup,
I hold it in my hands, mm.
I love that smell,
the fuel that drives
the machine.

They wave me off
& thank me by name,
a personal touch,
to this anonymous game.

We wear uniforms by day,
that must be ironed out at night,
for if those shirts have any creases,
you would look a disheveled sight!
I quite enjoy this dress up game,
even though we all look exactly the same.
Looking smart has an effect,
it makes you feel together
& grants you respect.
But sometimes I do wonder,
whether these collars are buttoned up
too
tight.
And maybe it's stopping us from being able to breathe alright?

What if one day,
you wake up in the middle of the night,
gasping for air,
looking for the light.
You see your position,
in this repetitive dream
& you no longer wish
to be a part of the machine...

As you sit amongst the breathless,
surging forward yet feeling stuck,
you can feel a storm brewing,
it is beginning in your gut.

Your gaze snaps up to their faces,
they stare down at their screens,
you try to change direction,
shifting away from mainstream.

But now you're moving against the current,
you're blocking the flow,
there's no one to follow...
where would you go?

Outside of the station stands a tall,
oak tree,
still and unmoving,
perfect stability.

They continue walking passed,
picking up the pace,
for there is no time to slow down
in this incessant rat race.
From the weak day
to the weak end
your mind's beginning to falter,
you feel it beginning to bend...

Despite being granted those 2 days of rest,
it is beginning to prove hard to stand the test
of patience,
of submission,
to the daily grind.
You have looked up now,
you have made up your mind.
You desire free movement and change,
creativity begins to unearth the strange.
So you follow that urge,
and slowly beat the surge,
falling out of the main stream,

into open water

It is still and unmoving,
like the old oak tree,
you have reconnected
and found your stability...
The storm has passed,
and now it's time,
to swim.

Discovering an Ancient Future

Mmm, Bali. A tropical, paradise island in Indonesia home to volcanic mountains, coral reefs and green paddies; it is rich with culture, high in spirit and the perfect place to hold a consciousness raising festival. So that's what happened!  We were introduced to The New Earth movement, a consciousness raising initiative run by an eclectic group of individuals that have backgrounds spanning different professions, from tribal leaders to scientists; it brings together ancient wisdom and modern developments to create a conscious future. 

The New Earth, Ancient Futures Festival was the first of its kind; held in the beautiful surroundings of Ubud, Bali. A charismatic and passionate man named Sacha Stone who is one of the main initiators of the movement, hosted the event at his incredible residence. His vision took the form of intricate bamboo structures that were weaved together in different sacred geometric forms. For those that don't know, 'sacred geometry' mimics designs found in nature; the mathematic ratios and proportions of these designs are found in such natural formations as shells, flowers, music, light and the human body to name a few. Ancient cultures have utilised these designs to channel the energy within sacred spaces like the Ancient pyramids of Egypt, medieval cathedrals in Rome or Hindu temples in India. By designing structures in this way it effects the entire dynamic of a room; its circulation, lighting, sound and energy flow. By integrating materials such as copper, it can serve to ground ones energy. The earths surface is naturally charged with electrons that are pushed up into our body to the top of our head causing a potential within our being. As copper is commonly used in devices as an electrical conductor, it can be used to conduct our own electrical energy downwards, through our feet that are in contact with the earth. One structure, the 'bio-arc healing dome' was lined with copper wiring in-between the wooden floorboards climbing all the way up, into the center of the dome. This sacred structure is where we experienced our first workshop of the festival. 

L, R & I <3

The workshop we chose to attend was lead by 'G' , an extraordinary woman and the pioneer of cacao ceremonies to Bali. The cacao plant is traditionally used in many South American rituals as a powerful, heart opening tool. Everyone sat in a circle and in the middle was a jug of thick cacao mixed with wild honey, hot water, cajun pepper and other spices to help activate the natural properties of the cacao. We went round in a circle, sharing our intention for being there and pouring the cacao into small glasses to drink when we felt ready. G lead us through a two hour, meditative journey in which we danced, screamed and released that which did not serve us. Through this process, we paid respect to the sun, water, earth, wind and ether elements that work together to grow and nurture the cacao plant. Some people had profound experiences as the spirit of the cacao worked through them; shaking spastically, bursting into tears or screaming with laughter - it was amazing to see everyone in such a raw state of being. That was my first afternoon of the Ancient Futures healing process. By the end of that day my fear had melted away and my heart felt so expansive; R and I officially committed to our connection and went into the night rolling with the rhythm of the universe.

That evening and for the next 4 to come everyone danced in ecstasy to an eclectic mix of musicians and performers from all over the world; a group of sufi drummers playing the sounds of India, a Gypsie folk band from California playing instruments I've never even seen before, a dystopian breakdancing group, stand up poets and funky DJ's. The best part? Everyone was sober. The festival guidelines stated that drugs and alcohol were unwelcome but looking at the crowd, you'd never have guessed.

Every day of the festival was themed around a different element. The 'water' day was my favourite; in each beautifully decorated venue around the festival there was a different talk, workshop or meditation about this element. Some were more informative; explaining the water shortage in Bali or the global travesty of what is happening to our water sources; did you know, when water moves through 90° angles (e.g. in the pipes that it must go through before it reach our taps), the natural charge/ beneficial potential of the water is reduced. With the addition of heavy metals, fluoride and other toxic substances to the human body, it essentially becomes 'dead water', stripped of all its natural benefits or 'purified' as the cooperations advertise. The messages had a strong impact and the intention was to raise awareness and empower everyone to become protectors of water; social activists for the precious natural resources we so often take for granted. The negative facts were met with positive solutions; for example we were taught that if water moves through a vortex the molecules are re-energised and re-charged, restoring its beneficial potential. So devices exist that can re-charge our water or, given that our bodies are made of 70% water and our mind is our powerhouse, we can simply set intentions before drinking/ using it to maximise its effect on our body (check out Masaru Emoto for more!). A few scientists attended the gathering and although some things went over my head, you could see that the research of these professionals was extensive. "MNI WICONI", we all shouted - 'water is life'.

Every day I began to feel stronger and every day my consciousness began to expand. As everyone's energy began to merge, our collective frequency intensified. One day as everyone was lining up to get their beautiful cooked, locally sourced vegan food, I wondered through the hippie paradise. I dipped my toe into the healing pool that was lined with crystals, feeling so grateful for being in that magical space. Everyone was going through a healing process of some kind, some metamorphosis - releasing the old and welcoming the new, we were all equally vulnerable and equally receptive. There was little room for judgement but lots of room for expression and expansion; in the process many real connections were made. By the end of the festival, unlike most others, my memory was intact and full of knowledge. Through the transformational breathing, soul healing and body work we had tapped into that inner wisdom that everyone has the potential to reach. 

I left our lovely villa and said goodbye to R, L and all the other beautiful souls I had connected with; I looked out the window at the lush green rice paddies of Ubud and the old stone temples strewn with faded flags. It was time now to take what we had learned from the wisdom keepers and inspirational speakers and share it; as part of the movement to consciously create the new earth we want to live on. I am so grateful to Bali, the hosts, organisers, volunteers, guests and everyone in-between who made the experience possible, Aho. 

Popping to Phuket

Head pounding, mouth dry, glugging water and squinting my eyes at the scorching sun that reflected off the surface of the pool. What a sorry state I was in, given our beautiful surroundings. C, J.E and I were on holiday in J.E's beautiful family villa in Phuket, an island off the west coast of Thailand. 

The beautiful villa

The crew <3

As we were driving to the villa on our first day, I looked out the window and watched the lines of newly built, concrete houses; the shrill sound of drilling and construction work was everywhere. The houses along the main strips lacked beauty and authenticity compared to the delicate detail of Thai architecture; it was cheap, concrete and convenient; ideal for the temporary nature of tourism. The size of the island surprised me, it was huge! We drove and drove as the grey clouds began to form dark clusters, preparing for a downfall. The car slowed as we entered the compound that J.E's villa was situated in, surrounded by other identical, luxury holiday villas that were rented out throughout the year - what a genius investment. Our tummy's were grumbling so we dropped our bags and left the compound in search of some cheap, Thai food. As we roamed the streets, we observed the gentrification in the form of expensive cafes and restaurants, built for rich tourists; it didn't take long to realise that my idea of a cheap trip to Thailand might not have been so realistic... We scoped the area for the cheapest pad thai, picked up a pack of Chang from 7/11 and retreated to the pool as the sun began to shine. That evening, the adventure began...

We were on a mission, so we went to the local taxi rank and asked to be taken to the nearest reggae bar. The driver dropped us off halfway to our destination, pointed down a little sand path and charged us an extortionate fee but in our tipsy states, we were in no mood to argue. We got out, paid and followed the wooden sign that was painted red, yellow and green (despite having no association to reggae). Standing around a makeshift beach bar was a group of people, mainly middle-aged men with beer bellies, grey hair and brown, leathery skin from too much sun. It turned out to be the local hotspot for the expats living on the island, most of them unsurprisingly worked in construction and one owned the bar at which we were standing. We ordered a round and conversed about island living. A young, chirpy American/Thai guy J was working as the bartender. In broken bar chat, he told his story and explained that he was now working on the island and being looked after by the men surrounding us, who were his family friends. His ego was evident as he bragged a bit too loudly about his uncle being the chief of police and granting him direct access to a variety of narcotics... it was somewhat entertaining watching his chat being followed by the bar owner sternly reminding him to watch his mouth in public again and again; but he took no notice..

Waterfall walk 
Note: google maps is not always right.

The empty bottles of beer began piling up and I found myself in a heated conversation with a conservative, Californian tourist. He started off telling me about how much he despised Muslim refugees as they were 'ruining his country'... oh man, one of these. I found the irony amusing given my current work supporting (mainly) Muslim refugees. I'd had a few beers and was feeling a little provocative, so I continued to ask him questions and he continued to share his views. He turned around to proudly present the back of his T-Shirt that read 'Guns in!' above a huge, bait picture of a silver gun. Soon he was telling me about how climate change was a money making scam and essentially, doesn't exist; you've guessed that he's also a Trump supporter, right? His deluded beliefs astounded me and throughout the conversation he remained ignorant towards my beliefs or profession. I didn't waste my energy trying to convince him otherwise, one conversation wasn't going to crack that nut but I did wonder how often people did contradict him... for he seemed so sure of such nonsense.

Things lightened up when the men began belting out American country tunes and the bartender J, who was eager to show us around town was finally ready to go. We were given a lift to the 'actual' reggae bar to complete our mission and continued on to the other local hotspots that J insisted we check out. By the time we had reached the last bar, the rounds of beer were hitting me all at once and I was ready to go one of two ways. Thankfully, they served pad thai at the bar so in a blissful state of drunken ignorance due to J's insistence that it was vegetarian, I ate the whole plate (and the next afternoon as I sat raving about how good it had been, C informed me with a smug grin that it was full of minced pork. Fabulous.)

The waterfall (+ a the Russian Couple..)

I switched to water and my vision began to even out again. J was swaying around with a pool cue, giving orders to the local staff who he claimed were his great friends. But after a few warnings from the bar staff, we came to realise that very few of the locals actually wanted to be associated with him (i must admit I was oblivious to it all). The energy in the bar dropped when a buff Thai guy knocked J just as he was about to shoot his ball. The air was tense as the guy sat down with his other buff Thai mates, looked over towards J and shot C a deadly stare, we decided it might be a good time to go. The bill came and J's hosting skills were toppled as we were charged for the rounds of beers that he'd ordered despite no one wanting them. He denied ordering anything and we reluctantly forked out the rest of our weeks drinking budget. We got in a taxi and left, realising that he was a young, naive boy that was probably best to not get involved with.

We drove back in silence, processing the event that had just taken place. As we arrived at the villa, the headlights shone on the front door and a black figure emerged from piles of bags strewn across the front step. I squinted my eyes to see and beneath the overgrown facial hair, I began to recognise L! My best friend from Bristol who had been unresponsive online for 42 hours since we'd arrived. He'd intended to surprise me but instead, arrived to a locked, empty villa just after we'd left for our night out... 5 hours before. Classic. We picked up his makeshift campsite, cuddled, caught up and crashed.out. R arrived a few hours later from London to a villa of passed out drunks and the crew was finally together.

R & I <3

We spent our days eating Thai food, drinking beer, jamming and riding mopeds around the island; everything you could want from a holiday in Thailand. Once we'd recovered from our night with J, we braved Patong, Phuket's notorious area for a night out. Needless to say, we would not choose to return. Somehow, half naked transvestites tucking in their genitals on vibrating platforms and 16-year old strippers dangling from the ceiling, doesn't quite spark my serotonin. It's always interesting to see who ends up there; the middle-aged couples drinking beer in silence are the ones I don't quite understand. I felt a mixture of sadness and surprise watching the scenes play out; the excessive alcohol consumption to assist in the 'enjoyment' of it all was just about the only thing that made sense.

mmm... satisfaction.

So we got caught in a few of the tourist traps but you've got to experience it once, right? We'd found our flow by the end of the holiday and ticked almost everything off the list. L and R booked their tickets to Bali and J and I returned to KL; with a bit of a tan and mango sticky rice in hand, we had a smooth ending to a truly eventful trip.