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.

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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
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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