Music to my mind is a most puissant form of magic, and has the power to invoke such strong memories and emotions, that tune that always reminds you of your first love, or the song that could be your own biography, and all those happy reminders of your past.
When Liz first played Ralph Vaughan Williams’ Valse Lente for me, she did so in the hopes that I’d like it enough to start learning it myself. I did, I really loved it, instantly, it spoke sweetly and dearly to me. It spoke to me of childhood memories; merry-go-rounds, music boxes and the Italian commedia dell’arte and its comedic and tragic characters, the Pierrot doll I had as a young girl, and still have to this day. And I played it for my son, and to him it spoke of a fantasy computer game he used to play. Ah, the generations! Music speaks differently to people.
This beautiful piece however soon became a reminder of great loss, the last piece Liz and I worked on together. I stopped playing it and listening to it after her sudden death two years ago. I always knew that when I eventually returned to it, I would have gained at least some acceptance of what is a great loss for me.
I made a promise to you Liz, that I would keep working it, a promise I intended keeping. I’m back working on it now, but I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to talk to you about it. See I still forget at times, that you’ve gone, and I cry when I’m on my own, and oh I still see you walking down the street. However I also think of you often with joy and happy memories and thankfully there’s more of these than tears these days. And I think happy thoughts of a beautiful Valse Lente again.
For you my dear, dear Liz, for all the wonderful memories I have because of you, of music and books, the love of which we shared, lovely evenings with wine and chats, of laughter and silliness and an eternal friendship that will never fade. I love you. I miss you.
Cheers and shine brightly.
Twenty minutes to write, twenty minutes to free my mind, and capture in writing my stream of consciousness. Where do I start, there is so much noise inside my head, constant chatter, new ideas being born, dreams, some shattering, some still infinitely optimistic. I’d love for you all to think that my thoughts are meaningful, inspirational and provoking, but the truth is there is more Homer Simpson than Aristotle going on in there. Mindlessly and tunelessly humming a song I heard earlier in the day, cravings for something sweet, and crackpot ideas.
So lets focus a little, why do I write, to fulfill a dream, a dream 33 years in the making but along the way, I found me, a way of expressing myself, of capturing my deepest and darkest thoughts and memories and transforming them into words. I’ve always admired writers who create images with words, those whose ideas and creations come to life inside my mind, and every time I start writing, my goal is to transform everyday words into lyrical and beautiful prose, my aim continues.
This is the first time I’ve taken part in writing 101, my goal is to expand my writing experience, to try something different. I recently attempted a poem, two lines in and it’s still sitting in my drafts, was it rubbish, not yet, add a few more lines and it might be though, but what stopped me, is that I froze, and I had no idea where to go next. I’d like to expand my horizons a little, push myself out of my comfort zone. Who knows perhaps that poem may even get finished. I need to be nudged, and that’s how I got into writing this blog. Reveling a secret dream to a friend, who gently pushed and pushed until I jumped. The time was right and it was fortuitous, being able to write during a severe and lengthy bipolar depression episode was a lifeline and a great way to keep track of my illness. I’ve been writing now for a little over three years and not at all sure that I’ve progressed and improved as a writer since my early days, but I can look back and see how much I’ve grown as a person.
Hopefully these next four weeks will help me to develop a writing discipline, something I lack greatly, I tend to be all over the place, nothing for weeks and then a blast of inspiration and then barrenness. I know to do anything well requires much commitment and practice and perhaps that lilting and lyrical prose will come.
Here’s to the next four weeks, day one down!
Wish me luck.
Introversion and extroversion became part of Carl Jung’s typology, a theory of psychological types defined by three dichotomies in ‘The Collected Works of C. G. Jung’ published in 1921, his works were extrapolated and expanded to include a fourth dichotomy and this became the basis of the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, a psychometric questionnaire for understanding human behaviour. The purpose of this test is to make Jung’s typology understandable and usable in helping people develop constructive and positive changes in their lives by coming to an understanding of their strengths and weaknesses.
There are many definitions for introvert and several will have you believe that an introvert is a shy, reticent person, and while some introverts are shy, this is a misconception. It is important to remember that introversion isn’t a personality flaw but a character trait, and is not the same as social phobia. The main difference between introverts and extroverts is the source of their energy, extroverts thrive on social interaction and external factors, whereas the introvert thrives on solitude, creative pursuits and introspection. All humans fall somewhere on the introvert/extrovert scale, we all have a propensity to lean one way or the other, however no one will be 100% either way, as Jung put it, “there is no such thing as a pure extrovert or a pure introvert; such a man would be in the lunatic asylum.”
However the modern world and society is geared toward the extrovert and yet it is estimated that the worldwide figures for introverts is 1/3 to 1/2 of the population. We tend to think of extroverts as the movers, shakers and reformers. But look again, many great achievers are introverts, think Barack Obama, J. K. Rowling, Albert Einstein, Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg, Mahatma Gandhi, Rosa Parks, Steve Wozniak, Steven Spielberg and Abraham Lincoln, to name a few. And while these famous introverts have done great things, it’s in a world skewed toward the extroverts strengths.
The world is a noisy place, and society today, embraces gregarious, chatty personalities, the brainstormers, the quick problem solvers, and overconfidence. Introverts are often seen as socially awkward, ruminating and dull, whereas the extrovert is sociable, friendly and outgoing, so right from the get go, the extrovert sounds more appealing. But would it surprise you to know that there are many extroverts that are shy and many introverts who love to socialize. While the gifts of extroverts seem to be obvious, introverts are excellent at the details, learning through observation, creative and solitary pursuits, and are considered to be thoughtful, self aware and empathetic.
Many of our writers, musicians, scientists, therapists, actors, computer/IT designers, and according to Buzzfeed professional Netflix binge watchers tend to be introverts. However introverts can be found in every profession, in boardrooms, offices, courtrooms, in fact anywhere, where minds meet and ideas are exchanged, introverts have much to give. With the extroverts confidence, enthusiasm and momentum, and the introverts attention to detail and creative thinking, just imagine what could be achieved.
The secret to my own personal contentment is self awareness and today I am a self confessed introvert, but for many years I forced myself to be other than what I truly was, in the belief that there was something wrong with me. I tried to be Superwoman, to be all things to all people, the ‘yes’ woman, committee member, volunteer extraordinaire and the life and soul of the party, in my efforts to fulfill my desire to be wanted and needed, but in the end I was left mentally exhausted, unhappy and unwell. When I stopped resenting and ignoring my introvertive nature, I found a wonderful inner peace. Today I still belong to committees, but they’re the groups where my gifts, talents and knowledge are recognized, valued and appreciated. I still attend parties and social events but carefully selected ones, and I love going out for dinner and movies and spending time with those I love, and some of those are incredibly wonderful inspiring extroverts. But when I feel the need to retreat, I now embrace it, enjoy it and nurture it, it energizes me and then I’m ready for my next great adventure.
I took up playing the piano at the age of 42, however my desire to learn piano goes back to my teens. My siblings and I were allowed one extra-curricular activity and my first choice was ballet. But I had a friend that I visited regularly and she played, so I got to have a little experience. Nothing major, a few chords, chopsticks, you know the easy stuff. But that desire remained and when we purchased a keyboard for the kids, I was probably the most enthusiastic beyond the initial novelty. However keyboards are very different to pianos in that the dynamics of the piece are difficult to create with a keyboard, but it didn’t stop me and about a year later I started lessons and a year after that I got my own piano.
A big investment, but by that time I knew that this was what I wanted to do, and my passion for learning was strong. That I suppose is a major advantage to learning anything new as an adult. Often that dream extends all the way back to our childhood and it has become ingrained in our imagination. And when the raising of our children becomes a little less hectic and we suddenly have more time for ourselves, these dreams come flooding back. I’ve learnt to read music, simply because it’s an integral part of piano and of classical music study and performance and for the better part of the last eight years I’ve played classical music. I have recently however started expanding my repertoire to pieces this side of the 1950’s. And I’m currently learning The Cave by Mumford and Sons. Who knows, one day I might get a chance to jam with a six-fingered banjo player. Whether your instrument requires you to read music or not, I really think it is very helpful in getting a basic understanding at least, to help with the shaping of a piece.
But this does raise the question for me, can it be too late to start learning, especially with regard to developing any great proficiency. My daughter started her piano lessons around the same time as me. It always seemed to be much easier for her, than for me, despite the fact that I practiced ten times more than she. Her fingers were so much more agile than mine. I’m in no doubt that children and adults learn in totally different ways and perhaps that explains her ability to grasp what was in front of her faster. Children almost intuitively learn and they’re not afraid to make mistakes. Speaking for myself, I always beat myself up if I did something wrong, complete with headbanging the piano. I’d over think the piece, apply reasoning and thinking strategies and the music became very wooden.
My friend and piano teacher passed away June 2013, and at that time I decided to no longer take lessons, to go it alone basically. Sadly, I stopped playing for quite some time, it reminded me too much of Liz and didn’t help with everything else that was going on for me. I’m back playing again now, but still find myself thinking, I must talk to Liz about shaping this piece. I still can’t believe she’s gone.
My daughter no longer plays, she simply lost interest and didn’t bothering practicing and finally stopped going to lessons altogether. I guess making the decision later in life to learn is a big plus. I still struggle with playing and learning new pieces, but I love playing. And despite the fact that my fingers are not exactly long (I can barely span an octave), I muddle through, and I also take great delight in the fact that my favourite piano maestro Daniel Barenboim plays so beautifully with equally tiny hands.
Apart from the childhood dream fulfilled, there are many other benefits to taking up an instrument post childhood. It helps to reduce stress, and strengthens the brain, and yes there has actually been studies done in the area of brain power/learning music which show that the longer a person plays the stronger their non-verbal and visuospatial memory, as well as their ability to adapt to new information. The reason for this and what appears to be unique to playing an instrument, is that it requires a wide array of brain regions and cognitive functions to work together simultaneously, in both right and left hemispheres of the brain. Add to that playing and listening to music is one the greatest and simplest pleasures imaginable.
I think that the two most important decisions to make, are that you are prepared to practice consistently and that you choose the right instrument for you. Not everyone can play anything, I have first hand knowledge of that. I once considered the flute, but after trying one, I decided that I’d give it a miss. If I was making any sounds from it, they were only ones dogs could hear. Not forgetting my eldest son, who definitely has many other wonderful abilities, but persisted in torturing me throughout his primary education with the most appalling tin whistle playing ever, which he eventually gave up to play the violin. Oh dear god it was terrible, even worse than the tin whistle, think cats being tortured. He now plays the guitar, much better, but he won’t be winning any awards any time soon. When you think of a mothers’ love, it’s never stronger nor put to the test more than when they’re playing an instrument. Make sure to try a few out, get the right one, it is after all a big investment and a lifetime commitment. So if your tossing up whether to start, go for it, you won’t regret it.
I’ve been going back over my old posts recently, two reasons primarily, the first to reevaluate my own personal journey. The second to explore how I’ve developed as a writer. So today I’d like to revisit an old post and explore it further in light of my recent experiences, my own story rather than my growth as a writer.
I do like what I wrote back then, it spoke to me at that time, of how I wanted my life to be and I recall a feeling of being uplifted on completing it, but did writing it make any difference, the short answer is no, not then, not for a long while. We think if we say something often enough it becomes real. If only it were that simple, the reality though is that, we are what we believe we are and back then I still had to hit rock bottom before I could start believing in a better, happier, worthwhile me. Why are some people perfectionists, in a nut shell, we have low self esteem, we strive to prove our worth, to ourselves and to others by reaching for unattainable perfection. In believing in our low self worth we anxiously strive to prove ourselves, there is no in between, we’re black or white, all or nothing and success or failure. Low self esteem patterns of behaviour are extensive, but for me I’ve always listened to and analysed the words or statements of others. That was my trigger, my pattern of destruction, and believing myself to found wanting fed this cycle of perfectionism/procrastination. Words hurt, nuances and tones crush.
Harking back to an old mantra of our childhood and the schoolyard.
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.”
If only we’d learnt to believe that, all those years ago. But words have the power to be the most inspiring or the most destructive force on earth. And the careless words of a thoughtless person, became the catalyst to all that came after for me. Do I blame her, not entirely, not even mostly, if my own worth had been strong, those words could never have held that much power, but we all need to take responsibility for what we say and the consequences that unfold. So were those words, derogatory, offensive or damning. No they were fairly innocuous in themselves, but to me, with low self esteem and reeling from having just lost my job and security, they were overwhelmingly devastating and undermined everything I had worked hard for. Those words only lost their potency in recent months, when I came to a powerful realization, so powerful that with the tears and release, went so much negative energy. That was the moment when everything started clearing for me, when I accepted and let go. In letting go of those words, everything else started falling away. The need for approval, the need for constant company, the need to always say yes and the need to be perfect, all gone.
My inner demon is quiet now, I hardly ever hear from her, and if she does make an appearance she gets ever so quickly gagged and pushed to the back of my mind. So how then too is the perfectionist in me fairing, I honestly don’t know, I haven’t been in contact with her for awhile. That feels so good to say.
I’ve completed my Advanced Diploma now, although it very nearly became another casualty, what kept me going, the support and friendship of the three very wonderful women that I met through my studies, without them I would have pulled out, without a doubt. The final part of my advanced diploma, a thesis on the practical application of hypnosis and hypnotherapy, was completed in April this year, was it perfect, no but I was happy with it. And the best part of all of this was when I stopped worrying about how good it was, it freed me up to do a paper that my teacher thought worthy of publishing on his website. Yeah I’m never doing that perfectionist rubbish again.
In letting go, I’ve also started taking more risks, and no longer living a life of ‘what ifs’, I’m ready to start working again, and to start seeing clients. And best of all, I’ve grabbed hold of nerves and doubts and reconnected with an old friend. To my memory, the sweetest and kindest boy I’ve ever known and it’s been great getting to know him all over again. I could never have done all this two years ago.
January 1st has so many expectations, all those new year resolutions, a new year, a new start. Saying goodbye to the old and hello to the new. As a child growing up in Australia, we always celebrated big time, going to parties, holding parties, counting down the seconds with a glass of something in one hand and our friends and family by our side. The laughter and the excitement, in anticipation of the year ahead. I’m living in Ireland now and I was determined to continue ringing in the new year the same way and that held up well up to and including the millennium. My dearly loved Dad died that year, a relatively young man and suddenly, and the new year to end all new years for me became a year of great loss. I haven’t stayed up to greet the new year since, choosing instead to curl up in bed with a good book and my own company. Some I’ve smiled through, on hearing the distant fireworks, some I’ve cried through, or yelled “Will you all just shut up, some of us are trying to sleep”,and occasionally I’ve even slept soundly.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not the new year grinch. We all have to start somewhere and I like the idea of new beginnings. For me it is a year of hope and possibility. I don’t make new years resolutions anymore, well from now on. Do they ever work out I wonder. My last attempt was about six years ago, I was going to get fit and exercise. I bought the DVD, I bounded out of bed, I put the sweats on and started. Four routines but just start with one or two it said. One or two is for losers I decided, I did four. You’ll burn 1,000 calories it said, 1,000 calories my ass, that’s only if you include the ‘trying to drag yourself up off the floor at the end’ section. Day 2 and 2 sessions unenthusiastically, day 3 I watched 1 session, day 4 I smashed the DVD. So endeth my last serious resolution.
Last night I cried, for the year I was leaving behind, for the pain and sadness that has dogged me, a final purge and I cried for a very special lady. I have good memories of 2013, and learnt a lot, it’s not all been bad. Most importantly, I learnt that I’m not a horribly behaved person with no restraint or goodness. I’ve learnt that I should no more despise myself for my bipolar than I would for the restrictions a broken leg would place on me. That gave me a huge release, I’m kinder to myself, I stronger and more compassionate. I feared seeing a Psychiatrist and the possible looming mental illness, I was terrified in fact, but the very thing I feared most has also been my saviour. But I’ve had regrets, I’ve said and done things, I desperately wish I could back.
Today I’m blogging for the first time in ages, I have tried and I’ve several unfinished drafts, about depression and bipolar, about love and loss, but each time I got stuck. I’d got so wrapped up in writing something brilliant I forgot why I really blog and who I do it for. I do it for me, I do it because writing is the best way I have of expressing myself and it doesn’t matter who likes it, it only matters that I do.
So here’s to a year of magic, hope, possibility, and my 50th birthday, I’m excited and grateful and at peace with myself.
As I look back over my 49 years, I can see clearly many peaks, I can also see troughs but as my thinking changes these are becoming ever so hazy. But you have to all the same appreciate those troughs for what they are because the peaks are ever so more delicious because of them.
This weekend brought to an end a journey, both emotional and physical, but I suppose it really started 4 1/2 years ago. A wonderful time for me, a time of exploration, trust building, a growing and deepening self-respect, in essence an opportunity to change my default setting and of seeing, really seeing new possibilities and opportunities and grabbing them with both hands.
Redundancy a year and a half ago rocked me, but made me rethink and build new dreams and the skills I learnt 4 years ago allowed to embrace them. I’ve come to the end of the formal part of my advanced diploma study in Hypnotherapy and Psychotherapy but my journey continues. I feel so alive, and fulfilled and I’ve met wonderful people and we’ve supported and grown together.
Changing my default wasn’t easy and I still go back to the anxious, negative me from time to time, but now I don’t stay there so long. In fact I hit rock bottom four months ago, but I got help from my doctor and my friends old and new, and that has made this weekend all the sweeter. If you ever get a chance to look at ‘This is Water’ by David Foster Wallace on youtube, prepare to be inspired.
I think what I’ve learnt is that crap happens, you can’t ignore it, it’s part of life, embrace it, it has a lot to teach us, but don’t wallow in it, because there is only really one way to go from there, all the way up.
This is my story, my truth, my awareness and it really works for me.