It’s Never Too Late To Learn An Instrument.
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.
For The Love Of Books.
I grew up surrounded by books, my parents were avid readers and encouraged us all to read widely. When I was twelve, my parents purchased a set of encyclopaedias. I still recall vividly the visit by the sales rep with a few demonstration books, as we poured over the pages with such enthusiasm and anticipation. An anticipation of a world opening up to us, and those encyclopaedias were still in the bookcase, where they’d always been when I left home for the last time. Although I always remember reading, especially lazy afternoons, lying in the garden, my overwhelming passion for reading was ignited at 14, when I read for the first time ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’. No other school curriculum book, or for that matter any other book I’d read prior to that, had that same hold as this gorgeous book. For the first time in my memory, I could see the book coming alive for me in pictures, in my mind. And that has been my guide to this day.
I’ve now a home and family of my own and like my childhood, books are everywhere. There have only ever been two rules regarding books, don’t scribble on them and don’t damage them in any way. They’re grown up now and I no longer have to remind them. I’m guessing like most people I have my favourites, genres and authors, and I tend to return to them over and over. However joining and belonging to a book club has opened me up to new and exciting authors and books. I have one personal rule, if a book doesn’t grab me, I won’t finish it. My time is too precious and passion for reading is too important to waste on a book, I find unworthy. The greatest of books, take me on a journey, to a new place and time. They’ve been my life line many, many times and have lifted me for the darkest hours and the darkest times in my life. I owe them everything and to me there is a sacredness in reading, a very personal journey and great privilege in being able to read. There was a time when reading only belonged to an elite few, and I wonder at how small their world and lives must have been.
Right now I’m re-reading for umpteenth time Pride and Prejudice, and before you all start saying, ‘oh she loves her romances’. The only thing Jane Austen went dewy eyed and gaga over was real estate, Pemberley and to a lesser extent Rosings. Any marriages that take place are swiftly pushed off the page to make way for Austen’s social satire, wicked wit and the glorious grotesques that grace the pages of this wonderful book. Lady Catherine de Bourgh (of the piano “If I had ever learnt, I should have been a great proficient.”) one of her more unassuming proclamations, Mr. Collins, the loquacious and laughable parson. But then I can laugh, because I don’t have to live with him, if I did have to live with him I think I would probably have punctured my own ear drums. The delightful Mr. & Mrs. Bennett, solo or in tandem and to a lesser extent the hapless and bitchy Caroline Bingley.
There are however two proposals which get more time than one or two sentences, the painful and cringe worthy fumblings and mumblings of Mr. Collins trying to woo Elizabeth Bennett and the first attempt at a proposal by Mr. Darcy….
(Cue romantic background Baroque/Classical music)
“In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
………..He spoke well, but there were feelings besides those of the heart to be detailed, and he was not more eloquent on the subject of tenderness then of pride. His sense of her inferiority – of its being a degradation – of the family obstacles which judgement had always opposed to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due to the consequence he was wounding, …………… (music skids to a halt)
Yikes….you haven’t done this much, have you Mr. Darcy.
And just for good measure, he adds.
“……….Nor am I ashamed of the feelings I related. They are natural and just. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections? To congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?”
If you want to know where the pride in Pride and Prejudice comes from, he was shocked and stunned when she says no.
Jane Austen wasn’t a romantic, she was by all accounts a practical, acid tongued and occasionally coarse woman. I think I like her. Marriage for her was a contract, one of very few options for a gentlewoman of little means. And this is very evident in her writing, Pride and Prejudice is a comedy of manners and Austen is at her greatest when she’s holding up a magnifying glass to the arrogance, vanity, stupidity and pride of many of the great characters in this wonderful and delicious book.
I tend to use my kindle a lot these days, apart from the obvious advantage of being able to store 1000’s of books in one place, it’s less likely than a mighty tome, to leave me concussed when I fall asleep reading at night. However I often return to books, there is something magical about the act of turning a page in a book, a physical and emotional response and interaction, and an empathy with the characters and story that I don’t get in using a kindle. There is a progression and immersion in books, that make you believe you’re living the story, that’s missing with an e-reader. My kindle is a moment in time, disconnected and static.
E-readers do have a purpose but I don’t believe they will ever replace the book. And thank god for that, I say.
Strange Noises in the Night
Something strange has recently started happening to me. I’ve had several episodes in the couple of months and most recently yesterday morning, which kind of unnerved me being currently on my own.
The thing is I keep being woken suddenly with a loud doorbell ringing and when I get to the door there is no one there. The ring is very loud and to me it seems louder than our usual doorbell. I wondered whether it has something to do with the medication I’m on so I decided to check it out on the internet.
Of course, there were lots of sites with people warning about using Seroquel, but for me it’s made me feel so much better and there really wasn’t any conclusive information on these sounds in my sleep. But I did find some interesting sites. Has anyone heard of phantom doorbell syndrome, I hadn’t and to be honest it still hasn’t given me much by way of answers, however fascinating it is.
It does however seem to be very common, and theories include communication from a deceased loved one, an inner alarm clock to sleep apnea. Has anyone any experience of this or any knowledge, I’d love some feedback. I’ve mentioned it to my doctors and they have no explanation.
Any thoughts, anyone.
Humour – Tickling Our Collective Funny Bones
“Outside of a dog, a book is man’s best friend. Inside of a dog it’s too dark to read”.~Groucho Marx.
Why do we laugh, what do we laugh at and why do people laugh at different things.
Science first, laughter triggers healthy physical changes in the body. Humor and laughter strengthens our immune system, boosts energy, diminish pain, and protects us from the damaging effects of stress. Simply put, laughter is good for us.
Humour and laughter are a big part of social interaction, people who make us laugh are more attractive and enjoyable to spend time with. Laughing creates a bond and a connection with others. It strengthens relationships, enhances teamwork and helps to defuse conflict.
Sigmund Freud outlined a theory that humour and the use of jokes is a conscious nod to the subconscious. Taboo subjects become more socially acceptable if delivered as a joke. Parapaxes or Freudian Slips, another form of unconscious leakage, although at times embarrassing, can also be incredibly funny.
Why do people laugh at different things. As we age, our response to humour evolves. Children and teens often find toilet humour and slapstick hilarious, while as adults we may still enjoy this type of humour, experience opens us up to more adult humour. Intellect is as important aspect of understanding jokes and their nuances and this develops as we grow and learn.
Society and community plays a big part in what we laugh at. The type of humour we appreciate is often the same as our parents. The great Tommy Cooper was our families great favourite as was Fawlty Towers, Monty Python and The Goons and to this day I still love all of them. Of course personality and personal tastes are big factor.
Another theory is Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, as we strive for self actualization, our humour develops and matures. One of Maslow’s 15 characteristics is an unusual sense of humour. As we move through the stages toward self actualization our sense of humour embodies our emotional and psychological attainment. Fascinating stuff, I must read more.
I probably laugh at pretty well anything, however I’m not a fan of crude and offensive misogynistic type humour. I don’t find it at all clever. But I do love the absurd, the ridiculous, black humour, gallows humour, the humour we find in the darkest places of our minds and the darkest times of our lives. The way I see it, if you can find something to laugh when times are dark and lonely, then there’ll always be hope and a reason to get up in the morning.
Some of the best comedy series of all time MASH, Frazier, Modern Family and Fawlty Towers to name a few, all share a magnifying glass look at the absurdity of life. And for most part it’s real, we can relate to it. I don’t know about you, but my family are definitely more Modern Family than The Waltons. Whether it’s spiritual or emotional strength in times of crisis (the Korean War in Mash), arrogance and pride, family life or even marriage, life is funny and it’s best to have a sense of humour for the journey. As Daphne says to Niles, “You’d eat a worm if I gave a french name”.
So favourite comedians, I’m a bit of a Marxist-Groucho not Karl. What am I saying, I’m a lot of a Marxist, the funniest man of all, who can forget, the mirror scene or Why a Duck. Who else likes Groucho, hands up. Love me a bit of Duck Soup, an anarchical, maniacal feast. His timing perfection, his sense of the ridiculous and to my mind he’s a great accidental philosopher.
Hail Freedonia!
For me humour has been a god send, a safety valve and an indicator that I’ve come through my dark tunnel. I find myself more able to laugh and enjoy the company of wonderful people. Laughter got me through many a day and got me up in the morning.
Laughter has certainly been the best medicine for me.
I wish…………
“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not a mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.”
Washington Irving.
It’s a year now since my dear friend Liz passed away and the grief is every bit as raw today as a year ago. The year has been tough, at times unbearable, and I’ve missed her gentle strength and loving support. My 50th came and went and she should of been there. Sharing my daughters debs photos, she would of loved the dress. But most of all, all those times I saw her in shops or walking down the road, it should of been her.
What do I wish for, I wish she was still with me. I wish for piano lessons and coffees that never will be. I wish my youngest son had been born with good health. I wish that life was fair and I wish that this earth of ours was a great utopian world. I wish…I wish…
Sounds a bit like a Miss Universe speech, doesn’t it, complete with fluffy bunnies and cute puppy dogs. But who wishes for death, or babies born to a lifetime of ill-health.
But whats wrong with wishing and dreaming, with wishing and dreaming our life finds some direction, without direction we wander aimlessly through life. How do we walk that fine line, of dreaming and wishing and yet accepting what is meant for us and letting go of the rest. Do tears bring that peace, that allowance, that acceptance. I’m beginning to realize that accepting that moment, shedding tears, then moving on is the best I can do, gentle waves of grief.
And that’s how I grieve for Liz, playing the piano often gives me that space, the tears blind me to keys in front of me. I’ll know when my grieving is lessening, simply playing the piano as my tears lessen.
Should we ever let go of even the most unrealistic of dreams, wouldn’t our life become mundane then. Who knows what is around the corner, we must take every opportunity to embrace the wonderful, expected or unexpected that life gives. I simply can’t let go of my dreams and now I’m back where I started.
Till we meet again, Liz.
“The happy ending of the fairy tale, the myth, and the divine comedy of the soul, is to be read not as a contradiction, but as a transcendence of the universal tragedy of man.”
Joseph Campbell Author of The Power of Myth
New Year, New Hope
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.
The journey of a lifetime.
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.
New Blog
I’ve started a second blog about the trials and tribulations of a hapless amateur astronomer, drop by and take a look. Tata.
http://stargazingducks.wordpress.com/
I was introduced to this about a year ago by a friend. Magical, peaceful, beautiful. I listen to this often. Enjoy.
Second, third, or fourth time around? Books I never tire of.
I love reading, it’s been a passion of mine since childhood, and still for the same reason. I can escape to a different world and forget my own. I tend to stick rigidly to certain types of books. I love crime, mystery, historical, fantasy. I joined a book club sometime back with a view to sharing my love of reading with other like minded people, and that works well, but I forgot that with that goes, the reading of books I generally wouldn’t have considered before.
Occasionally I’ve come across books that introduced me to a new style, author or type, but more often than not I’ve had it confirmed time again that I’m not a modern chick lit girl, but in fairness I’ve introduced to others in the group, books I’ve loved, just to have them all wanting to throttle me. So fair is fair.
I have three books that I return to regularly. I go back to these because life may have been fairly trying, and I know these three will get me through, and help me to temporarily forget my troubles.
The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien, To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee and Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. Why?
The Hobbit is magical and full of imagery, and a wonderful metaphor for life.
Bilbo Baggins, pushed out of his comfort zone,and excelling and surmounting every obstacle. The dragon, hobbits, elves and dwarves, I feel like I’ve come home
To Kill A Mockingbird is rich, humorous and warm, the ramblings of Scout Finch are a joy, her turn of phrase, insight, thoughts and familial descriptions memorable. I love this book and despite its violent and racial content, it’s wonderfully uplifting.
Pride and Prejudice is the closest I get to chick lit and enjoying it. I love the romance, rocky and uncertain, the humour and wit of Jane Austen is delicious, and I always love the ‘Mr. Bennet’ moments, so wonderfully reminiscent of my Dad’s humour and his teasing interaction with my mother, throughout my childhood.
Second, third or fourth time round. Try eighth, ninth, tenth or maybe more.
Valentines and Pianos
I started my blogs on my depression, not to dwell on the misery of being in the depths of this horrible soul sucking place, but to find a way out. To try and find the positives and focus on them instead. The suicidal thoughts that drove me to my doctor, terrified me, not so much the thoughts of the world being a better place without me, but the casualness and ease in which they entered my head, and of how these thoughts could overwhelm me and become all consuming.
The antidepressant side effects are still there, some are easing and some are showing no signs of abating, but I’ve found two positives to being on them. One, Twin Peaks reruns are starting to make a whole lot of sense, and two my favourite piano piece ‘Moonlight Sonata’ has taken on a calmer more sedate feel, more like how the piece show feel, probably a result of the sluggishness, but the result being, my mind calms as I play and I get lost in the music and the beautiful simplicity of the piece. I had to give up my lessons because of financial restraints and it sadly came at a time when staying with them would have been a godsend for me.
Valentines Day has just passed and anyone close to me, knows I’m not a fan, but that’s not always been the case. As a young woman, Valentines Day spoke to the romantic in me, and I still have a romantic side, it’s just well hidden and out of practice. The cards and flowers I longed for, the secret admirers, the power of young emotions. Perhaps Valentines Day is for young lovers and certainly as I’ve aged I’ve become a little cynical of the day, but I think the truth of my apathy are of a more personal nature. For one day the world is in love, and it passes me by.
This year however I got two Valentines, one from an old boyfriend/old friend from my teens, someone I recently reconnected with through Facebook and the other from my friend and Piano teacher, and asking me to return to my lessons, free of charge, just to keep my spirits up. Maybe they’re not declarations of undying love, but the love and kindness of friends will do just as well. And for the first time in so long my tears weren’t of overwhelming sadness.
Depression
Even today depression seems to be a no go area, people don’t want to talk about it, and a lot of people don’t really even understand it fully. Comments like “buck up”, or “cheer up, things aren’t that bad”, while well meaning, aren’t helpful. If I could choose to laugh and smile and live a life full of joy and wonder, if it were as simple as that, I’d do it, anything as far away to what I’m feeling now, would be preferable, but I’m stuck, I’m lost and I’m frightened.
I’ve had depressive episodes in the past, but nothing compared to the despair I’ve been feeling over the last 7-8 weeks, and it’s been steadily growing. And I’ve never felt more alone or isolated, more unable to cope or function at anywhere near my usual capacity. And the thoughts inside my head were becoming more and more frightening. The loneliness and isolation has been my own doing, a lot of the time I wanted to be alone with my thoughts, other times, well no one’s a mind reader and I chose to pull back and respect boundaries. And smile, when others are around, no one wants to be around a misery.
You know my dreams were simple, I’d fall in love with someone I liked and respected and wanted to spend time with and they would feel the same, I’d have children, enough money to pay bills and a few luxuries, and the space and support to follow my dreams. No different I would imagine to anyone else. But a lot of that is slipping away and I find my life has lost definition and direction. I’ve let a lot of things slide of late, my piano lessons, book club, trips to town all gone and the course I’d started and loved at present feels like a noose around my neck. I’m at point in it where I’m not moving forward and had considered stopping, but then I’d have nothing to get up for in the mornings.
Those thoughts I mentioned, of paranoia and hopelessness, reached a terrifying peak recently and I made a decision to go to my doctor, a wonderful man who over the last 23 years has seen me through 4 difficult pregnancies, depression and illness. I sat in his office and cried for an hour, let everything out, and he listened. The anti-depressants, I’m not sure about, I’m not one for pills, I even think twice before I take paracetamol, but he knows my views and is not one to prescribe easily, so I took on board his advice and started. After the first day I felt dopey, by the second day I was catatonic, not at all what I wanted, but at least I hadn’t cried in 2 days. I’ve cut the dose in half now, but I’m still not sure that’s the answer, I don’t like these side effects, spinning rooms, dizziness, dulled emotions, tiredness, but I was told they should go away, I’ll give it a bit of time.
This morning I thought of my blog again, and maybe, just maybe it would give me the chance to talk, let out my thoughts instead of bottling them up. Maybe give me some perspective and help me find my way again. And it will give me something else to get up in the morning for. Baby steps.
Lunarcy:Unplugged!!
We come to end of another year, and find ourselves reviewing what 2012 has been for us. For me it’s been nothing like I expected, but therein lies the problem, I have too many expectations. I planned and forgot to live. I was looking at my last New Years resolution message to my friends, my wish was to be more spontaneous and open to so many possibilities, but more often I’ve found myself crippled with doubts and inadequacies. It’s not all bad though, I took two huge leaps into the unknown, I walked away from comfort and support each Wednesday morning, in an effort to find courage and strength from within and occasionally I was Lunarcy with a capital L, but more often I was ahem, hello I’m here, won’t someone look at me lunarcy. The second was an exciting but terribly scary return to being a student. Part of my studies have been a deeply personal assessment, dredging through the past to find the real me. But in truth I started this journey nearly four years ago, and by god a lot of what I found hurt, but when I think of the me before that, the girl with the veneer of normal, functioning and in control, I much prefer the imperfect Lunarcy.
I started writing this blog, firstly to fulfil a dream but most importantly to be able to express my thoughts and feelings because verbal expression has always been difficult, even at times with my closest of friends. But I lost focus and tried so hard to be good, that I forgot to be me, raw and honest. My own style, my own way! I’ve just recently been reminded of that. Some of my favourite discussions are those of the midnight variety, where honesty and affection abounds, and where the most liberating and delicious of life’s lessons take hold.
I don’t need approval!! How right and how real that sits with me, and I know in my heart it’s not necessary to look for it, because in being me, a joyful, free and loving me, it’s given freely and unconditionally from all those I love and hold dear.
21st December 2012 looms, the Winter Solstice or the Wiccan holiday of Yule, to others there are different connotations, I like to think a new energy is coming into the world, and between 11 and 11.10am, when the calendar changes (or so I’ve been informed) put all your hopes, desires and dreams out there. I’ve a feeling 2013 is going to be a very lucky year.
Of course, a little part of me thinks that Mayan calendar guy all those thousands of years ago, just got sick of writing 19th December 2012, 20th December 2012, 21st December 2012, put down his writing implement and said sod this, let them write their own damn calendar.
So this is going out, unedited, un-reworked, un-request feedbacked, un-left in the drafts, whilst I build up the courage, just me and my thoughts. I like it!!
What If….A Perfectionist Threw Caution to the Wind
Two or three months back I was thinking 2012 should have been my year, the year of the Dragon, my Chinese astrological sign. My year for wonderful things to happen. Dragon the fearsome, loyal, kind and hard working, the traits that could lead me to greatness.
In the last two weeks of 2011 I was made redundant from my job of 8 years. If you’d asked me to sit down and think about what defined me, my job would probably not have made it to my list. But losing it undermined my very core. For me it was about security in a world in recession, an income, getting out and meeting people, and in holding down that job, a belief, that what I did, I did very, very well.
At first I embraced the opportunity for change but when the shock was replaced with the reality, my optimism seemed to die. I reeled through the emotions like a woman possessed. Fear, frustration, helplessness and a loss of control over my own destiny, anger, so much anger, mainly towards my employer, someone I’d once counted as a friend and a sense of betrayal. My demon was the alter-ego who has dogged me most of my life. She ridicules me, second guesses my intuition, stamps all over my dreams, she takes me by the hand and leads me down the path of the worst imaginings my mind can create, and devours my confidence. And she always shows up when there’s a flicker of weakness. “What’s the point in trying, you know you’re going to fail”, my perfectionist/procrastinating nature chimes in.
If only I had been left to my own devices, I could have coped. Lunarcy the everyday and my alter-ego Lunarcy the superhero, righter of wrongs and with the ability to take flight and soar, working together we could have been amazing, we could of risen to the challenge, but my demon was in her element.
The turning point, my 48th birthday, end of April, all I wanted to do was sleep through it. Friends though had other plans, a surprise party (the surprise bit I spectacularly messed up – no point being a perfectionist if you don’t do something spectacularly). I went begrudgingly, annoyed with them for forcing me to acknowledge the event. Sometime during the night though something wonderful happened to me. Something shifted in me, what it was, who knows, I still don’t. Maybe it was just being in that room with people who just wanted me to be happy. I wonder do they know how important that night was to me, how much strength I gained from their presence, thoughtfulness and warm friendship, and how it helped to turn my life around.
I now have a direction, I won’t say plan, for me now, plans imply something set in stone. A direction allows me to move forward and allow for change. I’m going back to learning, am I scared, hell yes, but I won’t allow that to derail me. I want to explore an area that intrigues and energizes me. Psychology and Hypnosis, the mind, infinitely creative and destructive. The power to conquer and defy our past or to bring us to our knees. A text delivered a selection of books to me, “some summer reading” he said. Light summer reading it ain’t. I laugh, but I’ll enjoy them so much more than some soppy novel.
I still struggle with this desire to be nothing less than perfect, but the dream is strong, and hopefully enough to push me out of my comfort zone.
I know now that losing my job wasn’t the beginning of the end for me. I was never going to jump, I had to be pushed and glorious new starts often include pain, fear and doubt. Perhaps 2012 will be my year to shine after all.
Where do I see myself in October/November and beyond, will it be with my hand shooting up to answer yet another question, teeth grinding behind at the Noddy Know All in the front row, or standing behind the toilets smoking trying to look cool but in reality just terrified by life. I’m hoping closer to the know all, but without the ‘me being annoying’ bit.
For now I’m reading my books, swotting as it were. A challenge presents itself, deliciously tantalizing and I’m poised and ready. I sit relaxed, a smile comes to my face, and a sense of excitement and the beginning of my path to fulfilment, as the words swirl into my brain, like fingers massaging the little grey cells long dormant, I think ……..
“I wonder does he have any copies of these books in English”.
Hey Love-What About Me!!
Someone asked me some months ago “What gives my life meaning”, I thought long and hard. Is it a goal, maybe something like becoming a successful writer or overcoming a fear. Perhaps it’s about being healthy, raising happy and confident kids or a crusade that touches your heart. I kept coming back to the same thing over and over. And I thought no that can’t be it, doesn’t it have to be something else, but however hard I try I can’t escape this overwhelming yearning.
Love, pure and simple, not the love of a child or a parent, or platonic love of a friend, I already have that and am I grateful for it, more than I could ever say. I’m talking about the love that gives you a sense of belonging, physical, emotional, a friend, someone to come home to and share your day, someone who doesn’t criticise or judge. Someone to hold you when your day has been just awful. That’s when the realisation of what’s missing in my life is so very tangible, and the loneliness and pain is overwhelming and you find yourself wishing so hard for someone to make contact with a silly, funny email (no Amish elevator jokes though thank you), or a “Hey just thinking of you” text, or a call. Just to know someone has just at that moment thought of you. But my search continues, and maybe one day it will come or maybe I will also have to accept that it may never find me, but for now that search is what drives me.
But perhaps our life’s meaning shouldn’t be about that one aim but a continual searching, a journey at times joyful but not always, because if we stop searching and growing, we become stagnant, contentment becomes contempt. So with that in mind my life’s meaning is searching for that which eludes me, but I won’t say no to love.
So what if my striving for love is finally realised, then chocolate, I guess it’s about finding the perfect chocolate bar, smooth, rich and creamy and also makes you lose weight. Ok diet gurus, there’s a goal for you and don’t take any short-cuts, just adding a laxative is a big no no. No one’s going to thank you for making them run to the bathroom several times a day after eating 1 or 20 of them. Maybe then I could die happy and thin.
Ok, I won’t say no to love and chocolate.
You know maybe I’ll just forget about love and stick with the chocolate. Chocolate and denial, that works too.
Hello Is There Anyone Out There
We all have dreams, but then life happens and it has an uncanny knack of getting in the way. Responsibilities, deadlines, grief, and on and on. I’ve had a dream to write for as long as I can remember, but how and where to start. I couldn’t even write an interesting letter. I would get an interesting idea and pace around the garden and the thoughts and words would flow. And in a flurry of excitement I would race in and sit down to start typing and it was all gone or worse when I started typing it sounded wooden and forced.
Inspiration is the key, when you’re fired up and the passion is running, anything is possible. But my greatest inspiration came from outside of me. A dream shared in a chat with a friend led to encouragement, then nagging (in the nicest possible way), then this is where to go to get started. I figured if I didn’t just dive in, the next step was that I’d be dragged kicking and screaming to my computer. My greatest fan, my only fan, but how wonderful to have even one.
Moliere wrote:
“Writing is like prostitution, first you do it for love, and then for a few close friends, and then for money.”
Woohoo, money, what a thought money for writing.
When fear grips and paralyses you it is so comforting to have the belief, confidence in and encouragement of even one person. Thanks to the greatest Superego on the planet, I couldn’t have done this without you, well I probably could of but it’s been so much more fun this way.
Someone pretty cool, once wrote:
“Oh what a terrible beauty is born.”
And I think maybe some other fellow named Yeats may have mentioned it also.
A dream begun!!!
Yep this is scary, but I never thought scary could be such a wonderful feeling. Here’s to many more frights.
lunarcy 
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