Learning to embrace change

It's official, times are changing, the energy is shifting and I'm sorry to inform you, that checking out is no longer an option.  If you've been resisting this moment, this opportunity to transform, with all the avoidance tactics of a toddler avoiding nap time, then you're probably at present facing upheaval and inner turmoil. But fear not, as from the breaking comes the breakthroughs.

Yes, change brings with it unfamiliarity and we all know that the great unknown can be daunting, yet equally it often provides us with the opportunity for exciting possibilities that we could not have previously imagined.  It's perfectly okay if you don't feel as though you currently have all the answers, or know in which direction to turn, this is your challenge, to grow and maintain a sense of acceptance in your uncertainty.  Be willing to let go.  Like struggling to get a grasp on a word that lingers so precariously on the tip of your tongue, eluding you, you must be willing to let it come to you, in time.

Of course we must also acknowledge that time itself is of sorts an illusion.  The perception of which denoting its speed.  Rather than evolve out of our confinements, we have instead further reduced our experience down to variable structures, believing our lives to be limited, that each segment must bring about some kind of achievement in order to be valid or of worth.  This is a fallacy.  Life itself is ever-lasting.  This physical experience is solely that, an experience.  So what, pray tell, is it that you wish to experience.

What is it that you need.  What is it that you want.  What is it you can offer.  We all have something unique to give, yet we consistently conspire to conform, to reach the peak of someone else's expectations, often to the detriment of our own happiness and joy.  We follow the consensus blindly, stripping away our freedom, day by day, drowning out the cries of our instincts with consumerist highs and mind numbing televisual lows.  Alcohol, drugs, work, sex, a plentitude of distractions that we persistently pour ourselves into, so as to avoid confrontation of the self.

The more you resist the ride, the more aggressive it will be, so brace yourself, because it's time, it's time for change.

the ongoing journey

I've spent the past week chronically ill with what feels suspiciously like Glandular Fever (at least according to Google), which has rendered me entirely lifeless and comatose in bed, clammy, snotty nosed, with a sand paper throat and killer sinus pain for the majority of the past seven days.  It's been terrifically agitating being so immobile and my infrequent excursions to the outside world, have seemingly only resulted in further suffering.  Unfortunately, I'm one of those annoying types, for whom the concept of 'resting' just seems to be nauseatingly boring and this weekend, the idea of committing to staying indoors was especially difficult, due to the Labor Day Celebrations.  So, I did indeed make a break for it and managed to get out beyond my sick bay, but even my low key activities had me sorrowfully burdened this morning.

Anyway, all this bed rest has at least provided me with a lot of contemplation time and I realised that it was two whole years ago today that I rocked up here in Berlin from Paris, with nothing more than a tiny borrowed suitcase, some crazy stories, a crush on a beautiful French boy I'd left behind and literally no idea what I was doing.  Twenty four months later and I can't deny that sometimes, I still don't really know what I'm doing, but I've at least learnt to stop berating myself over it.

In fact, during yesterday's escape, I had an in depth and lengthy conversation in the sun with my friend Dana, down by the canal, during which we spoke about how we have to accept that life is about the journey not the destination.  Accepting the never ending, ongoing process of repeatedly stripping down and putting into question your beliefs, behaviours, values and perceptions, so that they don't just become habitual, or unconsciously preconditioned by your surroundings, your upbringing, or even society itself.  Which, it would seem, they so easily do, don't they.

I definitely have to admit that when I first arrived in the city, fresh from France and my travels that I thought in some ways I'd reached this magnificent state of enlightenment.  That I'd done the work, I'd cleared through all my emotional baggage and this was it, I was going to be some zen yogi master with all my shit squarely together for the foreseeable future.  So when problems gradually started to arise, I found myself suddenly laden with all new baggage and admittedly, I spent a long time feeling really disappointed and left wondering what the fuck happened.

That's the thing though isn't it, we've all come to assume that we have to spend our lives working towards this grand state of clarity, or understanding and then that's it, job done, we're somehow set for the rest of our physical existence.  It's like being on a pilgrimage, finally reaching mecca and kicking back with our feet up.  The truth of the matter however, is that yes, whilst maybe to a certain extent life is a pilgrimage of sorts, it's a somewhat never ending one and ultimately, it's this very journey in itself that's the most important aspect of the whole thing, not the idealised destination.

Because, let's face it, the one thing we all have in common is the fact that, regardless of our beliefs or fears, we're all ultimately heading towards the same destination; death of the physical form.  So, perhaps once we begin to accept and acknowledge that which we share in common, we can concentrate on it a little less and start to refocus on the journey itself and equally the continual investigative work that is, in part, our life's purpose.  For all those boundaries we manage to dismantle today, will only reappear in other areas tomorrow and we can't allow ourselves to get disheartened when we think we've completed the job, only to find that there's still work to be done. Because they'll always be work.  Always.


I lost myself in someone once before. It was a somewhat caustic union, but perhaps one that was doomed long before the drowning and the battle of right and wrong ever began. Mostly because, in that particular partnership, if you dare to call it so, were two people who were broken and suffocating under the immense weight of their unspoken grief. Two people entirely adrift in the seismic waves of unexpressed emotion. Both desperately in search of a life raft to cling to for support.

It's terribly easy to get lost in somebody else, when you're not willing or able to acknowledge yourself. Which is why, I am thankful for that time to have come to pass. Yes, I may have drowned, but at some point, as I sunk to the murky depths of my own subconscious, I found salvation. Rescued and resuscitated. And in battling with those tides, I developed muscles and from those laps I was forced to swim against that brutal current, I grew lungs that now breath heavy and deep. Lungs that are full and always in support of my need to bellow my truths across noisy chaotic halls. Unafraid, unashamed and unapologetic. No, there is no doubt that I do not seek to find a raft in someone now. For why would I, when I have built one for myself.

Now I long to regale my stories to someone with an eager ear. One that can sympathise, empathise and generally have some ability to understand what it took to have them to share. I crave to find someone who too paces the floor boards at night, unable to sleep, for their thoughts are laced with sporadic flickers of genius, that excite them to such an extent, that they simply must find another soul to share them with and immediately. Not when the light re-emerges, but at that very precise moment of creative enlightenment. I crave that. I crave having someone to wake in the middle of the night. Someone who'll shake with excitement and understanding, as the words I so desperately need to share, tumble at great speed from my mouth into their sleepy ears.

Someone who's eyes light up as I describe the edge on which I so precariously stand and sees, out in the vast darkness, an exciting multitude of possibility, a grand adventure. Too many times have I fallen in love with those who could only see the emptiness, who's eyes could only sense the void. Full of fear and doubt. Comforted solely by their logical understanding. Held back by their closed and narrow minds. So blinded and conditioned by their upbringing and society's subtle yet detrimental influence.

How could I ever be expected to find partnership looking into the eyes of someone who, when looking back, could only see the colour of mine and not the pain that occasionally hid behind them. How could I give my heart to someone who could not understand that it often nearly erupted into an expletive mess, at just the thought of being broken. Of being left. Betrayed.

How often it had though and yet how fierce it had become. To have witnessed so many tragedies unfold and still managed not to turn to stone, but instead, to have grown softer still. To have learnt to be more forgiving, more understanding and even more eager to love.
It is perhaps a complex mystery and one that cannot be explained with words alone. No, for such a matter, the answers can only be felt and that is potentially the other great note of importance in such a search; to be able to share a grandiose level of understanding with someone that goes beyond any verbal or written communication. To connect with someone on a level so unavoidably complex, that you would simply have to experience it first hand, to even grasp a vague level of understanding of its existence. To be partnered. To connect.