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) 

A Summer Song

The sun is shining, the breeze is fresh and the background symphony is a combination of skylark, goldfinch and magpie calls, broken up by the odd splash of a Pollock’s tale in the estuary. The sounds of summer in the Devonshire countryside… lush. How liberating it is for the mind to be free of the burdens of city life and its hard, dense energy.

In Psychology, there’s a term ‘sensory adaptation’ that describes a common, unconscious behaviour that we use to blend into our environment… you know when you walk into a room with an overwhelming smell and it dominates your attention for a while, until your senses quickly adapt and your attention moves elsewhere… my point being that with its constant sirens, flashing lights and pungent smells, I think city living massively desensitises us.

In one way, it’s probably necessary; creating a coat of sensory armour to shield us from the tumultuous tumbles and shin splints inherent to the rat race. But on the other hand, it causes us to lose touch with our feelings, our common-sense(s)… our human nature. Despite our technological advancements and ability to instantaneously ‘connect’, we’ve sadly become so disconnected…

Now, while this may be my comedown epiphany,

RIP Gary

My macro evaluation of society,

Or my mind finally getting the chance to run free…

Whatever the reason,

The beginning of this season,

Has given me the space to see.

Summer time in England is when the true magic happens and for once, I am not jetting off to miss the show.

The wand has been waved

Tunes <3

And all those enslaved,

In grey clouds and monotonous drizzle,

Have been freed to unleash,

Their well-groomed beasts,

As the candy pops, cracks and fizzles…

From Gottwood to Glastonbury and somewhere in-between, I’ve been swept up in a rhythmic wave to dance to the sounds of summer. The disconnection of city life has been thrown to one-side as the crew re-assembles in tents old and new, to dance and laugh and sing; Ay ay me hearty’s I feel it in my soul, I feel that pirate ting up in my soul…

Glastonbury 2016

Like the smooth transitions of a really good mix, the days have merged into one another seamlessly and for the first time in a long time, I’m stopping to process the metamorphosis.

Weeks ago, we flitted and fluttered as forest fairies in the Welsh woodlands to funky, house-filled beats. A wave of the wand, another weekend and whoosh! The times took a tropical turn and we floated for hours passed London’s bridges and towers, feeling somewhat wavy aboard the Captain and Co’s birthday vessel. But rougher seas were in need, so the spell conjured up something greater for us to do…

Boat Party
London, 2016

Gottwood, 2016

We became reckless and wild, like an unsatisfied child, attempting to take over every vessel in site (unless they were in the kids playground area during which all crew members [unless gold], were instructed to come back at 7pm…); we became pirates for the night and exercised our rights to groove to that sexy disco beat (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eBpYgpF1bqQ ).

The fairy dust has finally settled on the windowsill in front of me.

A momentary breather from the mass of blissful confusion,

To ensure it hasn’t been an illusion,

And that the sounds that I’m hearing are real…

Om Namah Shivaya

Because one must not forget,

That in our attempts to re-connect,

We must still keep our feet on the ground.

For it’s too easy to get swept away,

In the tide of worries we try to keep at bay,

And we end up missing the current sound.

The one sound that we call,

The Uni-verse.

Quote of the day: "To be grounded is to be connected to our emotional-electrical currents, to the waves of our needs and images and the rhythms of actions which comprise our physical-psychic processes: the rhythms of the human and natural ground." - Stanley Keleman

Wonkyville meets Neverland

My partner in crime <3

“There’s no earthly way of knowing which direction you are going, there’s no knowing where they’re rowing… or which way the river’s flowing” but my guess is that you’re heading west…

The wise words of Mr. Willy Wonka ring in my ears as I sit in my aeroplane seat, contemplating, re-living and releasing the locomotion of the last 2 weeks. All the cabin windows are closed, the lights are off and for all I know, we may be flying west? But while the concept of zooming over huge masses of ocean and land in a giant metal bird in the sky is still utterly baffling, nothing can quite beat how perplexed I felt the moment that I stood around the kitchen table in that grand stately home 2 weeks ago...

Although I shall try, there’s no point in writing this blog in chronological order as the concept of time becomes merely a word to encompass the entirety of our experience (that I so wish could last forever). The experience I refer to is the event we had all been waiting for … the one you spend half the year anticipating and the other half recovering from/ in a state of denial that it’s all over. I’ll take you through a bit of the magic to tickle your tentacles and ignite your imaginations. Feeling perplexed already? So was I, I’ll let you decide which moment may describe why…

Awards night...

We had returned to Neverland… Day 1 was surprisingly civilised as girls flowed around in floor length gowns while boys drifted, suited and booted with endless glasses of bubbly in hand. We sat gracefully in our assigned seats around white tables in the expertly converted games room for ‘The Captains Awards Night’. But it didn’t take long for the clock to strike 12 and the transformation from civilised society to wreck-head ravers to begin. Conversations sped up and nonsense filled the air and we raised our glasses to the long awaited annual affair.

Disjointed conversations, after party bliss, morning yoga and chocolate bits. 30+ hours of no sleep and it was suddenly dark again… “So much time and so little to do. Wait a minute. Strike that. Reverse it. Thank you.”

The activity of the 2^nd evening? Disco dodgeball. I stood at the corner of the table in the kitchen dressed as an oompa lumpa, having a seemingly normal conversation with a crew of life-size, animated childhood heroes. It was like an acid trip had come to life. A minion stood next to me, chatting politics to a member of the Jamaican bobsled team, while a Dalmatian mixed a cocktail for a member of the SWAT team who was sensually brandishing his leather whip… everyone’s pupils were wide in anticipation for the games to begin.

And indeed they did. I looked over the heads of a bizarre array of characters, searching for my team of orange oompa lumpa’s. I soon spotted the mass of green curls and orange faces bobbing along outside, struggling to walk straight through the cold, hurricane-like wind in-between the house and the games room.

Everyone went quiet as the MC announced into the microphone ‘IT’S TIME TO PLAYYY DODGEBALLL!!’ The rules were explained and the first team ran onto the court, grooving to their entrance song of choice against the opposition; the winner of the dance off, determined which team started first.

TEAM

We bobbed along to what should’ve been (http://youtu.be/DoFeHA587GI) and needless to say the lack of sleep and my flickering eyes hindered my ability to dance, let alone last in the game for longer than 30 seconds. So I took my rightful place on the side-lines to watch the other teams battle it out. When my body could bob no longer I made the sensible decision to take myself to bed just as the heat in the Chapel was rising and Saturday Night fever was set to begin (on a lit up disco dance-floor, divided by lines and devoured by glitter fro’s that were shaking to some funky disco beats https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZBR2G-iI3-I).

A kitchen of characters

I awoke on that sunny Sunday morning having sadly missed Saturday night’s groove, surrounded by sleeping disco-queens in an unknown bedroom. I looked into one of the million mirrors that were scattered around the house, wiping away flakes of baby powder to assess my situation… it looked like I’d spent too long in a tanning booth as I peered at the residue of orange face paint… what a bedraggled oompa lumpa I had become. I chuckled, washed my face, shook into my body glove and with a cup of coffee in hand, stepped outside. With the help of some sexy morning tunes (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DofQMszmOOM) all the tiredness and weird residue of the fun guys chocolate nibbles from the previous day, just seemed to melt away.

Dirty Disney 

The day consisted of re-grounding and resetting, grinding my teeth against some actual nutrition before the lid of Pandora’s box opened and the toys again sprung to life. My Mrs. Willy Wonky doppelgänger appeared and I got into character, handing out a spread of golden tickets and special treats. That evening as I sat at the kitchen table I was joined by a new array of mixed company; it was like that game ‘who would you have at your dinner table if you could choose anyone?’ Next to me, sat a giant whoopee cushion (that #lookedlikePaolo), a Mario cart mushroom and micky mouse… with a baby doll lying face down on the table.

I listened in on talk of mysterious golden tickets that were being found in wonka bars, hmm… “Little surprises around every corner… but nothing dangerous” I hoped…

And as the lights became blurry and words got more slurry, I hopped on the boat and began rowing, with no idea what direction I was going… through a secret passage and out we emerged, into a land of cocoa powder, Malibu and milk!

My long lost husband Mr. Willy Wonka was setting the scene, telling his childhood tale, accompanied by a giant oompa lumpa who kept the vibes heading in one direction… west, only west. The childish tone soon took a turn as the musical conductors moved the kit into the grandest of dining rooms and things transformed from perfectly playful, to wonderfully wild: Out came glitter nips and lucky dips into bags of magic as we moved and grooved (while some sensibly snoozed) before the clock struck and the countdown to the end was to begin…

Post-party vision

We all ran and rushed,

Looking bedraggled and flushed,

Hoovering glitter in a bleary haze,

We tried our best to clean before the wedding day,

That was occurring in that house in which we were to leave no trace,

If only I could’ve mustered a smile on my face…

Likened to a bunch of animals by the caretaker was not a surprise,

For I could still see the wildness in all those sleep deprived eyes…

And as though the party could never end,

We hopped in cars with a few of our friends,

For a ‘civilised’ lunch at a local pub,

A nap in the pub...

We were well in need for some well-cooked grub.

While some continued to pop and bump,

Others had hit a little slump,

So we lay on the carpet beside the lunch table,

(This all seems surreal but I assure you, it’s no fable.)

After a little nap we were back on form!

Determined not to let the smiles turn to scorn.

So a ‘spa’ became the next destination,

Was it to live up to our expectations?

We all drove along, expecting facials and a much needed rest,

Only to arrive at the ‘hotel’ that I’d describe as average at best.

But we soldiered on, despite our energy wearing thin,

And the temperature of the pool feeling nothing but grim…

Some tunes perked us up, as did R’s blue wig and red gown,

That she had not taken off, for she refused to come down :) 

We sat together on Devon beach to watch the sky melt away,

Sensing our slow return from Neverland with the dying day…

Devon Beach (Creds to A. Gold)

It’s now been 2 weeks and in-between I turned 22,

LOST festival, Bristol

Getting LOST in a maze with another beautiful crew.

Topless and free, our spirits ran wild,

And I returned to that liberated, carefree inner-child.

I cannot express my awe, gratitude and love for you Captain and team,

As you have risen above every expectation and dream.

That goes for each and every wonderful person that I’ve met

And what excites me the most is it’s not over yet!

I apologise for the wonky direction that this piece has taken,

Santa Teresa Bernini is a statue in Rome that
they believe was continuously sent orgasms
by god. She hence comes to represents pure ecstasy
and bliss (and although this message slightly takes the piss
I felt it was an appropriate one that could not go amiss ;) )

It started as a blog but I was mistaken,

For poetry has been my means of expression,

To release and re-live the years best session.

I’d like to end with a note of academic value,

For even though she is only a statue,

What she represents is something I’ve been feeling for the last 2 weeks,

As though my heart has skipped a million beats:

Santa Teresa Bernini (on the left) is a statue in Italy,

The description underneath explains it all blissfully...

As a group of west-heads, look how far we have we come?

Captain I hope the grief you’ve ensued has not spoiled all your fun,

For you are a maker and creator of joy,

I’ve never known what it’s like to truly live like a toy!

Thanks again, I can’t wait until next time,

And that shall be the end of this (way too lengthy) rhyme. <3

Where the magic happens...
(Creds to Bateman)

Whispers of Summer

The walk to 'Chocolate'

It's the perfect moment for blogging, I turn to look out the window to see sheets of rain being blown in waves across the fields. It's as though someone's chosen the 'matt' option on a camera, through the lens everything's been brushed a dull grey with no trace of shine. As my eyes scan across the window frame, the colours outside induce a soft sense of calm; the mossy browns of the estuary, the dark shades of green trees and the pale grey sky - in-offensive and subdued. A sound that seems out of place at the beginning of July sends tingles through my toes ... crackles from the old wood-burning fire, that's become the centre of attention as everyone slowly inches towards it. Since arriving at the cottage, everyone's pace has started to slow a little, as the strings loosen and we tune in to the sounds of summer. 


Like a scene painted with watercolours, the brush swoops over the page and leaves a background of pale blue to simmer on the canvas. So with brighter skies, everyone grabbed a jumper, slipped on a pair of wellies and carefully walked across the seaweed-smeared stepping stones (try saying that one out loud 10 times). 

The paintbrush gets tapped softly, sending down a sprinkle of water that fell lightly around us, leaving little droplets to sit on the long blades of grass & clusters of stinging nettles. The bursts of fuchsia pink foxgloves managed to remain unburdened by the rain, their flawless design creating a slope that lead to the plants below. The walk we were about to go on gets shorter every year.. When I was little it used to feel like hours of trudging uphill through an ominous tunnel in-between fields, dad would keep me distracted with stories of horses and carts that used to ride along, wearing down the ground again and again and creating a perfect walkway. Now, walking through the tunnel encased by green vines is magical (especially after a few puffs :p)... Letting your eyes flit between the dappled patches of sunlight and the weird and wonderful shadows of overhanging leaves. 

Outside the Cottage

Vipassana teaches you to always be present in your environment and surroundings by being aware of your breathing and physical sensations ...  With so little distraction, I tuned in and suddenly felt completely overwhelmed by my senses. Do you tune into the dominating field of sight and let the light absorb your mind? Or the multiplicity of sounds: footsteps, birdsong, wind, tractors, the residue of rain fall. What about the meta-sounds encased within each, how many types of bird-song are there, to what distance can we hear them? As we start to lose our hearing with age, it's the highest frequencies that fade first... so I uncreased my brow and appreciated the shrillest chirps in the sky ...

'One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:

'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,

         But being too happy in thine happiness,—

                That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees

           In some melodious plot

         Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,

                Singest of summer in full-throated ease.

....

  Past the near meadows, over the still stream,

     Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep

            In the next valley-glades:

         Was it a vision, or a waking dream?

                Fled is that music:—Do I wake or sleep?

 - John Keats

I came out of my reverie to feel my toes rubbing against the insides of my wellies... you always have to get past that initial feeling of wearing new shoes, until they mold to your feet and become yours, mm. We were nearly at the end of the long tunnel and the hedges on either side of us were getting shorter. There was the occasional window through the leaves, where you could catch a glimpse of the outside world. The fluffy white clouds were sitting comfortably on top of the array of beautiful white houses that formed our nearest beach town- Salcombe. The gradient started to ease and the uphill-climb was over... the smokers in the group panting with relief. The reward? A cider at the Milbrook Inn, our quaint little country pub that used to sell local crab sandwiches for a few quid and now has an extortionate menu only legible if you read French... 

Sunny

The energy here is so special, on top of the lightness of being on holiday, the surroundings range from sandy beaches to untouched woods. In 2009, The Journal of Epidemiology and Community Health found that compared to people who live in the city, those that lived closer to nature were more likely to have better cardiovascular, respiratory and mental health amongst other things. Sunlight helps regulate our sleep cycle & gives us more vitamin D, while the electromagnetic fields of plants have an incredibly calming & purifying effect on our nervous systems... We've all felt that energetic liberation when surrounded by nature... Mmmm summer's just fucking great :) 

Chocolate

The cloud

The orchard

   Haha - my mind drifts back to last weekend when we felt quite the opposite; it was the second mad 50th birthday of another family friend and as we drove up to his idyllic country home in Bridport, Dorset; everyone was pitching their tents in the orchard and kids were running around laughing, with sticky hands that clasped on to giant marshmallows from the bonfire the night before. I walked through their garden and indulged in veg. porn :o ducking under artichokes on steroids, giant tomatoes ready to burst and clusters of herbs thats distinct smells lingered in your nostrils.. I felt like I'd entered Jack and the Beanstalk or just taken one too many psychedelics .. Soon the kids were all in bed (or wandering around downing forgotten glasses of wine), the thumps of the speakers were projecting dirty tunes for miles beyond the barn and everyone's eyes were rolling with the trippy lazer lights that cut the smoke into a million segments. The rents & I danced until the music got too heavy and we crawled back into our tents that were stuffed with air mattresses and white duvets... racing minds encased in a cloud were put to rest. 

The next morning, no one was really feeling the liberation of being in nature as the rain pelted onto the side of the tent and my bladder screamed at my still, curled up body to get up ... I dreamed about walking to the porta-loo about 5 times before biting the bullet, jumping into wellies and running outside. Yesterdays 'sweet children' had become this mornings head.ache as they continued to run and run and run around their drowsy parents who were taking apart their tents as fast as possible, to drive 3 hours home to comfort..

Second Generation grooves ;) 

''Tis the season of mid-life celebrations, 50th's galore. It's hard to think of one that can top M, C & J's joint 21st/50th. It was pure joy (and sexy music) that filled the air; old (& young) friends shared the decks and kept the flow smooth from start to finish, as the champagne remained plentiful and we got down with the people we'd known all our lives, merging the ever shrinking generation-gap. 

We left that party on a high, buzzing from the love that was too immense for words. Just as we'll leave this cottage again until our annual return. Tonight's our last and as swiftly as the tide has come in, the clouds have cleared and the brush has painted the sky a flawless blue.

My heart's jumping in anticipation as I mentally prepare to embark upon my next journey that'll take me across many oceans to the mistress of spices, where the cow bells ring... 

(A Sexy Evening Tune: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xBXbrOOo2nM) 

Followed by a sexy sunset..

Recipe of the day: Rhubarb, pear and Raspberry crumble with clotted cream 

http://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/3440/rhubarb-and-pear-crumble