Twenty: A Cheat Sheet

Today's blog post is inspired by the lovely Zoey - fellow blogger and runner. 

Masks by me during Art & Soul - Theme: Emotions.
The mask depicts that which is portrayed to the outside world...and what is going on underneath.
Inspired by Picasso's Weeping Woman.

1. Just when you think you've got it all sorted out and you're out of those woods and pretty much home and hosed, that's the exact moment the next curveball comes in from left of field. Don't get too cocky thinking you're a star player. Think of yourself as a rookie who still has a lot to learn.

2. If I make a big deal of something that means it's important to me. If it's important to me then perhaps you need to stop and find out why, rather than dismiss it.

3. Imitation is the greatest form of flattery I think...and flattery is not necessarily a bad thing. I'm realising that if I am truly inspired by a person I tend to emulate them to a point. I used to think it was a character weakness in me. Now I just see it as exploring and learning. Things normally balance out in the end.

4. Contrary wise, if there's something about a person that really goes against your grain, perhaps you are recognising a similar characteristic in yourself that need addressing. I think about this all the time when the temptation to criticise arises.

5. Like Zoey I too have a love/hate relationship with Daylight Savings. Honestly, I'm thinking of moving to Queensland simply to get away from it!

6. Sometimes the times I am dreading become the times where I receive the most healing. I was dreading last night's theme and art project. (see pictures above) I did the inside first and at great speed - almost in the same fashion as Olive Penderghast changing her wardrobe in Easy A ...

...which was good because it got some of that shit out and it lessened somewhat; so much so that when I did some boxing this morning it was intense physically, not emotionally.

7. I'm aware that you know that when I'm quiet something is wrong. Don't ask. If I'm quiet, I really don't want to talk about it. I know who I can come to when it gets too much.

8. I have a serious relationship with Doritos; so much so that my son bought me a whole large packet for me as a birthday gift.

9. It takes me a while to accept that in reality, I am running twice as far as people twice my height. Therefore the 8km I run is the equivalent of 16km for you. I'm running the 15km Run for The Kids, so energy wise I'm actually running 30km. 

10. So what's your excuse?

11. Passive/Aggressive responses leave me feeling as though I have nowhere to move. I think a Passive/Aggressive response is the cowards way out...because the giver of a passive/aggressive response can choose between Victor and Victim depending on how I respond. That's not nice. 

12. It takes me a looooong time to work through things. Like, a loooooooooooooooooooooooooong time. I'm still working through a lifetime's worth of growing up Pentecostal. So yes, if something happened in 1984 that affected me, I'm still processing.

13. I can't believe I wasted so much money on therapy when a long run does exactly the same thing and it's free. 

14. I find that people who make frequent references to me being short are the ones who are having the most difficulty with it. Constant joking references are really not a way of communicating to me that you're cool with it. Want to show me you're cool with it? Just get on with it! Do you make constant references to your best friend being bald or red haired or over-weight or gay? NO! Then why my height?

15. Blogging has highlighted to me the fact that one day I may have to eat my own words. 

16. I've also realised through blogging that everything I experience as a person with a physical difference is just part of the human condition...every comment readers make helps me see that I am not alone in my feelings. 

17. Sometimes I am so close to believing in nothing that it scares me.

18. Movies about Super Heroes, Heroes and disasters are my go-to when life is just generally crap. 

19. Having said that though....I am really partial towards bad guys. Loki in particular. 

20. I can't stand it when people talk about "The Terrible Twos/Threes" and "The Teenage Years" like they're something to be absolutely dreaded. I hated it when people would look at my children and say, "Just you wait till they're teenagers." I never dreaded any part of their growing up. Never. I loved every part of it. The twos/threes and the teen years were times where they all entered into a phase of knowing themselves, exploring independence, having autonomous thought. As a parent I found it all fascinating and delightful and I totally enjoyed getting to know these beautiful souls as people in their own right. 

So, there's my 20.

Do you have 20 to share?

When life serves you what you need.

Image source

My own recent reactions to some negative experiences of late have clearly indicated to me that I am I no way out of the woods I've been inhabiting and not ready to take some riskier steps.

I am so incredibly grateful to Life for  throwing this back at me as it has served to protect me from making a very bad decision.  Life has a tendency towards keeping on this wonderful path of wellness and wholeness and sanity. Sure, I may be stumbling over some rocks at the present moment causing me to slow down, take extra care of where I am treading and making me reevaluate the path, but the point is that I am still ON the path…and that is always a good thing.

This whole stumble has made me realise that I had inadvertently and unknowingly handed over the reins of my life to others once again. I thought I was still steering but my reactions to this latest pothole clearly indicated to me that I wasn’t.

So, I’m taking back the reins again, setting the compass, sailing off into unchartered waters; this time without fear of the unknown.

Because this time I trust the captain, for she is me and she has had plenty of experience setting forth into unknown waters.

You

One of the kindest and most caring things someone said to me after the death of my grandmother was, "Never underestimate the loss of a grandparent." I kind of had it in my mind leading up to her passing that it was part of the normal cycle of life that grandparents die. I knew it was coming and up until the point of it happening I was quite philosophical and thought myself prepared.

However, when I did get the phonecall to tell me that she'd gone I found myself very unprepared. It wasn't supposed to happen yet! I was going to see her tomorrow! I'm not ready! 

Despite the fact that she and I hadn't seen each other as much as I would've liked over the last ten years of her life, her passing left a gaping hole in my heart. I tried to fill that hole with noise. My iPod was always on, earphones in, playing metal - the kind of music Nan would definitely not have listened to. If anything quiet or soulful came on my heart just ached...and I even felt scared. I didn't like silence. The silence made it really feel like she'd gone. I couldn't understand why it affected me so much, especially seeing she and I butted heads on more than one occasion.

So to have a caring someone say, "Never underestimate the loss of a grandparent," was a balm for my soul.

Today is what would have been my Nanna's birthday. Today marks five years since I last saw her. Again I am overwhelmed and somewhat confused about the emotions that surface each year on her birthday. I miss her. I miss who she was before the Alzheimer's took hold. I miss her fire, her somewhat blinkered view about life and faith and God. I miss her never-wavering assurance of the truth as she believed it to be. I miss her bossiness. I miss her being the first to the dessert table. I miss her voice, her hands, her smell. I miss the mole on her chin. I miss her stories.

I hope she's up there testifying on my behalf, getting heaven organised, laughing with her family.

I miss you Daffy-down-dilly.

Dancing Ground Take 2

Communal space - where we all ate and generally hung out!

After the Welcoming Circle we danced on the green towards Five Rhythms.

My humble abode for the night. This time I remembered a rake to clear the ground and a hammer to get the tent pegs in! Yay me!

You might remember that last year around this time I took my first foray into the festival that was Dancing Ground. Inspired by an online friend I convinced my sister to join me in a weekend of camping, yoga, dance and communal living in the Dandenong Ranges. 

Both of us found Dancing Ground to be a little confronting last year - she more so than me. For me it was about being comfortable in my own skin, shaking this obviously different body around in front if a whole lot of strangers. In spite of this I did enjoy my time at Dancing Ground last year and even though we left early I was glad I went.

I'm here again this year. I write this from the comfort of a beanbag in the Communal Space. I'm glad I've come...and I'm comfortable being on my own. This time I've met people, talked with them, watched over a baby as his mother went to wash their plates. People are friendly. I've been hugged by strangers, made contact through dance.

I've danced.

This year I determined I would make sure I participated from the start. I was present in the Welcoming Circle. I went to 5 Rhythms straight afterwards. This morning I stretched my body in Satyananda Yoga. I went to Kundilini Dance and listened as Leyola spoke about the Divine Mother and connecting to the divine masculine and feminine. I still don't know my own personal thoughts about all that, but I listened with an open mind and danced with a open heart. I cannot deny something happened to me as I danced - the release of tension, the feeling of intense responsibility, as though I was carrying not only my own anxieties but the collective anxieties of the many people who mean the most to me. If you're family and you're reading this, I carried yours too. The sense of responsibility was overwhelming...and I felt that the harder I danced the better it would be for you. My explanation of how I felt doesn't do it justice...but I felt it. I hope you did too.

I'm glad I'm here. I'm glad I challenged my own sense of hesitancy. I'm glad I pushed through everything about me that screamed and begged to stay in my safe place. I'm going to the Sound Healing workshop this afternoon. Who knows what awaits?

I wish you were here.

Treats

When I was a child I remember that after beach trips on hot summer days we would stop off at the local Milk Bar and Mum and Dad would buy everyone icypoles. We kids would get the generic type icypoles - usually lemonade flavoured, or perhaps even orange, raspberry or lime.

But Mum and Dad would treat themselves. They'd get something like a Wild Strawberry or a Golden Gaytime - creamy icecream with fruit or nuts or biscuit and covered in chocolate that would crack as you bit into it. 

I can't remember any of we kids being jealous at all. Heck! We had ICYPOLES! Who needed anything more? 

But I do remember those delicious looking icecreams...and as the years have rolled past I realise that they were possibly the only things and the only times my parents truly treated themselves with something that was just special to them. They were always such giving people, working hard to make a living, pay the bills and keep food on the table for their ever-growing family. Honestly, they deserved a tiny bit of luxury now and again - even if it came in the form of a 50c (and THAT was expensive back then!) icecream now and again.

I was reminded of this yesterday when my man and I treated ourselves to some fine dining to celebrate Valentines Day. We headed down the Mornington Peninsula and ate at Montalto Vineyard and Olive Grove in Red Hill. Folks, if ever you're down that way, do drop in. Lovely surrounds, friendly, attentive staff without being overbearing and the most delicious cuisine. 

Pricey? Yes. My man and I spent on one meal what I spend on a weeks worth of groceries...but I reminded myself that sometimes we need to simply relax, treat ourselves and enjoy every delicious morsel. We work hard every day and often deny ourselves the pleasures of life in order to simply get by. 

So we relaxed, and indulged and had the most wonderful time chatting and enjoying each other's company whilst admiring a beautiful view and enjoying the most delicious food in quite a while.

And although the Wild Strawberry and the Golden Gaytime were not in the same league food-wise, I really, really, really hope my parents felt the same sense of enjoyment and satisfaction all those years ago...because oh how they deserved to be indulged now and again!

What lies beneath

Image credit

I had a good introductory session with my PT today -  a warm up jog around the lake, lunges uphill, pole squats, sprints, core work, stretching. It was good. K says I have good muscle structure, which was pleasing to hear. She identified some weaknesses that we're going to work on. Wednesday morning workouts are going to be concentrating on cardio fitness. Saturday mornings will be full body training. I'm looking forward to it. It's so good to be training with someone who will correct my posture as I exercise and pull my body into alignment so I get full benefit from each. Due to my body mechanics there are stretches that are totally ineffectual if I do them on my own. There's just not enough length in my bones to stretch out the muscles that are just the same as yours but confined to a smaller scaffolding.

I have a feeling though that this training is going to bring things up that are lurking below the surface. As K was telling me to sprint the last legs of each circuit I heard myself saying, "But I can't run fast!" As she encouraged me to run on my toes, not letting my heels strike the ground I felt stupid and said, "I can't! I don't know how!" I felt stirrings of being back at school again and being the slowest, the least fit, finishing last and the one that would lose a game. I began feeling embarrassed, apologetic, ashamed.

K did everything right. If she saw me lose balance she'd encourage me to switch on my core, with specific instructions about how to do that. There was a lot of, "Good! That's it! Keep going! Nice balance! You're in the zone! Good focus! You have good muscle structure!"

I needed that...because the urge to be apologetic was strong. And what am I apologetic about??

I don't know.

Maybe I do....I still feel the need to apologise for this "package".

Why?

Tell me when it's over

You know what I love most about exercise?

The moment it stops.

Oh...and the several hours following.

It's not always easy to slip on the running shoes, or pack my bag to head off to the pool. As a matter of fact when that alarm goes off at 5:45am four mornings a week I must hit the Snooze button three times on average. Bed is too warm and comfy and after getting up to the dog twice a night on average I really don't feel like getting up early.

But I do. And when I hit the road I'm still thinking, "Why the hell am I doing this?" But I keep going.

This morning I got that feeling when I faced the pool. I did not want to get in and do lap after lap. They keep the pool at a cooler temperature now. It's not too comfortable getting in.

This morning I did 20 laps of the 50m pool. It's boring. It's exhausting. I think I like running better because I can put on some tunes and zone out or concentrate on my technique or file away thoughts and ideas as I cover the k's. But swimming? Lap after lap of boring.

But that feeling after it's done? That's what makes it all worth it. That feeling of all your muscles having worked hard. The adrenaline is pumping, my head is clear. I feel pumped and ready for action. I get home and fix myself some breakfast and it tastes like the most delicious food on the planet. I feel so good after I've eaten.

My mood is lifted and there's a feeling of goodwill towards everyone. Plans are made with the rest of the family and they see me go off to work happy. It's easier to give out to them because I feel energised.

And that's why getting up early and pushing through the barrier of I don't wanna! is worth it. I feel alive.