Get Your Tits Out Julia!

 httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YNgeeP-9P-k

The above clip is of an Australian politician Penny Wong and her response to being interrupted and ‘meowed’ at by the another male politician. Most responses I have seen to it have been a ‘Hell Yeh Sister’ and ‘You Go Girl’ type stuff. But the clip has sparked something else in me.
 
Rather than enforcing their ignorant man crap by meeting them with aggressiveness, I would have SO enjoyed seeing these guys get a death stare and a coy knowing smile for being such immature little boys, (or even her responding with a ‘WOOF’ right back and moving on) Penny Wong is an out and proud lezbian and her whole way of being in the world appears quite masculine and I get that, I don’t have a beef with her. But this video and the sexist debates that have sparked really made me think…

Where ARE the SEXY feminine politicians?

I imagine it would be a fucking hard job being a woman in politics, but i’m hanging out for a woman who comes into parliament being not only intelligent and knowing her shit, but also really owning her feminine, sexiness. When I say feminine I’m referring to the feminine qualities of sensuality, receptiveness heart, joy, humor, play etc. While masculine qualities and more about directness, discernment, clarity, control and focus (these qualities are not gender specific but often are)
David Deida speaks of different ways the masculine and feminine manifest which can be seen everywhere, particularly in history.

In the 50′s for example we were very much in strict masculine and feminine roles. Men went off to work while women stayed home cooking apple pies. Men ruled, women served. Then in the 60′s the sexual revolution exploded and women have since worked very hard for equal rights and a level playing field, particularly in the workplace. They burnt their bras and took the ‘If you can do it, so can I” attitude which is very true and necessary in some respects. But what we also did was deny a massive part of our nature and femininity, and in some respect, women became men.

We see this still today – most top business women, lawyers and politicians, are often hardcore masculine in behavior at work; with their power suits and cropped hair they are constricted and serious. I’m not saying women should get back to the kitchen, but what I’m asking is, is the armor really necessary? Is it imperative that we behave in a masculine way in order to get ahead? Do we have to wear unflattering clothes and hide away our femininity and sexuality to be respected?

I believe the next level we are ready for is that women in power can be intelligent, respected AND in their feminine, sexiness. A woman who knows she has a brilliant mind but also revels in being a woman, in her breasts, her playful beauty, her pussy power. That being a woman IS different and special. A woman who can calmly stand above all of the immature patriarchal residue that still creeps in trying to suppress and demean, knowing full well the powerhouse that she is.
 
Hm, Maybe I’ll become a politician..

Wake Up Princess!

I was in a café yesterday and the guy serving me my chai was really sexy and intriguing. I don’t find myself instantly attracted to people that often, so he stuck in my mind, Then this morning I’m driving out of Pilates and the same guy whizzes past me on his bike! 

Fuck! What are the chances right?

So of course the romantic in me slammed my foot on the accelerator and started following the guy down a random side street! This lasted about 500 meters or so before I started feeling kind of bunny boiler-ish and stupid, so I turned back and continued on home.

Ah! Those regretful “I should have” missed opportunity moments totally eat at my soul. The universe hands me something on a plate and i'm too ‘pussy’ to take the chance!

Okay, so I know I definitely had some of my 'I was an ugly teenager and still feel like one' belief systems running. Admittedly, I can get nervous when it comes to making a first move intimately. But really, society hasn’t given me much chance to practice my pickup technique..

Generally speaking, men do the chasing, women get chased. Hunter-Hunted. Predator - Prey.  Masculine/Feminine. Whatever,. Whether you think these gender roles are archaic - they are far from dead. Go to any bar on a Saturday night and you don't see many women awkwardly approaching a man at a bar and asking to buy him a drink do you?

Even the word 'pussy' - slang for female genitalia is also a colloquialism for someone who is weak and doesn’t go after what they want. While Someone who is fearless and brave has ‘Balls' ..Coincidence?' No! Women can comfortably get through their dating life sitting on their thrones doing jack and never get called on it, societies sexual scripts support it.

Historically, we don’t have many (if any) examples of prominent women who are respected for being unashamedly bold in getting what they want – particularly when it comes to sex. In fact when they do exist, they’re generally frowned upon or otherwise depicted as deadly/dangerous, evil and warned against! i.e The Femme Fatale, Vagina Dentata. On the other side of the coin, we’ve got fairy-tales depicting dashing princes and fair sleeping maidens in waiting! 


Although I do consider myself a bit of a feminist, today I realized that I've been hiding out in this particular social construct for awhile now– it’s safe, and I don’t have to get out of my comfort zone or face being rejected. But today that little story didn't get me any riding off on a horse into the sunset with a sexy chai man endings.. It got me shit all, (apart from a good blog) and I've been pulled by my fairy-tale princess hair to wake the fuck up.

So watch out boys, I'm growing some balls under this gown.

An Ode To 'The New Age Guy'

You embrace me in a melting hug.

While the lump in your pants says you’d rather a tug.

We eye gaze until my brain starts to hurt.

Then you bow Namaste and wander back to your yurt.

Sure, you’re not like those beefcakes who’ve got something to prove.

But C’mon, just do it, make a fucking move!

You’re in touch with your emotions.

You aren’t afraid to cry.

But there’s still something missing with this 'new age guy.'

You’ve opened your heart, broken down your walls.

But to tell you the truth,

I’d like you better with balls.

Whose wearing the pants?

Whose leading this dance?

Sleeping in your Combi doesn’t feel like romance.

You go with the flow, take it slow

Respect my feelings, But where’s your mojo!?

Can you remain equanimous while your touching my breasts?

That’s the ultimate challenge, a true spiritual test.

To embrace the animal instinct, that’s in ALL of us.

Forget your Asanas , let go and FUCK.

Cause everything is sacred,

Including cunt and cock.

And there’s nothing more enlightening, than getting your rocks off.

My Psychosis

Psychosis (from the Greek "psyche", for mind/soul, and osis", for abnormal condition) means abnormal condition of the mind, and is a generic psychiatric term for a mental state involving a "loss of contact with reality."

To pinpoint exactly when my episode started, is to ask myself the question ‘when did I become out of touch with reality?’ However as the very nature of reality is subjective, this proves to be a difficult question to answer.

In November 2009 I completed a very intensive full time, one-year transpersonal art therapy course that involved a lot of personal, emotional and spiritual work. When I graduated I was suddenly left with not a lot of structure in my life and lots of ‘where to next?’ questions. I continued to do lots of self-reflection, spiritual and creative work at the time and was getting quite into exploring my sexual energy. I was doing lots of ecstatic dance, writing every day, doing breath work and I had quite a few intense kundalini experiences to the point I would often move into spontaneous full-body ecstatic orgasmic states. Beginning in 2010 I can see my boundaries melting away quite significantly, I was pushing myself and opening up to some pretty full on energies and emotions and experiencing varied altered states of consciousness. There were no drugs involved with my experiences.

After my 22nd birthday in April, I spent 4 or 5 days out in the hills at a house with my friend. Over that period, we both moved into quite a lot of very intense and ritual space without a lot of what I refer to as ‘containment’. I see this happening a few times for me in the months leading up to the episode – I would find myself in very powerful, spontaneous ritual-like spaces but without the safety of an acknowledgment of a 'beginning middle and end' to contain the experience and keep me grounded. Throughout history, whenever people practice magic of any kind, there is acknowledgement of moving into an altered state separate from the identity.  Then when complete, coming back to an ordinary waking state of consciousness in order to function in the 'real world.'  All the boundaries between others and myself were continuing to melt and I started to see the pattern and the meaning in EVERYTHING. There was synchronicity everywhere in my life and it was very beautiful.

After a while, I ended up back at my family home and decided to take a vow of silence in order to understand my family more deeply and my place there, I felt extremely psychic at this time. I experienced feelings of complete possession by a darker entity - where I would be typing on the keyboard and words were flying out of fingers out of my control and not from ‘me’ For one week I barely ate any food and would stay up all night with my body and mind-racing full of creative ideas and thoughts, but I had no channels or structure for this creativity, I would fill pages and pages with writing and even ended up writing on the walls. I dressed up in lots of outfits and felt extremely invigorated, sensitive, inspired and free. I would occasionally go for drives at 3 in the morning, everything was poetic and powerful and I was definitely in a manic state. Eventually I reached a point where the magic flipped, I started to feel very disturbed, my thoughts turned to extreme paranoia, anxiety, hallucinations and delusions particularly around my family and messages from dead relatives, a lot of death and very archetypal images moving through me.  I felt desperately that I needed to be in nature and had the image of being at the beach and being supported by one male and one female to move through the experience with me, however I was unable to attain this due to being all over the place and too scattered to clearly state what I wanted, to the people I knew could give this to me and not be afraid. As human beings we are petrified of madness.

My parents were very concerned and I too knew something was up, so I agreed to go to the doctor, The day of the appointment I started freaking out and didn’t want to go, my parents didn’t know what to do so I got locked in the car and taken  to the emergency room where we waited for 7 hours before I was seen to by a psychiatrist (not the best environment for someone who is experiencing psychotic symptoms!) I knew as we drove up to the hospital that my journey into the mental health system had begun – As part of my course I had studied the medical model and psychosis in particular and knew that there was absolutely no room in the western mental health system for anything other than medication. My mental state was now about to be completely disregarded for being anything other than a chemical imbalance in the brain that needed to be fixed and forgotten.  I knew as I walked through the hospital doors that there was no way my experience was going to valued and held and nurtured from then on,  that once you are in, it’s one hell of a ride to get out. When I was finally seen that night, the doctor sent me home, where I then started receiving visits from the CAT (Crisis Assessment Team) team every night, who monitored my behaviour and tried to give me medication which I was very resistant to at first but knew it was best to remain voluntary and not be given a community treatment order against my will, so i obliged . Regardless, I was still able to stay up all night even with strong antipsychotic tranquilizers but I was more trying to prove a point in fighting them. so I eventually I allowed the medication to work.  During this time I had started my period and was bleeding extremely heavily. (More than ever before) I did not want to wear any clothes and felt extremely wild and raw. I began on medication during my period and since then have researched the link between menstruation and psychosis – Apparently there are current studies at the Alfred hospital exploring this link between menstruation and madness, which I am very interested in. Psychotic PMT, so to speak.

As I was not really getting better at home, I ended up going to a residential setting for a week however I was still a bit off the planet so I ended up going to a psych hospital for 12 days. I was diagnosed with first episode psychosis and I accepted a regular average dose of anti-psychotic medication. The doctors were continually asking to up my dosage, trying to pin me with bi-polar disorder and offering me a powerful mood stabilizer – Lithium, but I constantly refused all of the above, we do to some extent have power in accepting the labels that someone wants to give us. I felt my feelings of sadness; anger and grief were completely normal considering I was in a psych ward! I knew I was an extremely expressive and emotional person and had been my whole life, but when you are in the mental health system any display of emotion which may be completely acceptable in a social/creative environment, becomes the potential for a diagnosis and more medication. Psych wards are awful places for recovery and are extremely intense environments with people who are tapping in to all sorts of universal energies, it’s almost like the patients psychic channels have opened, but the material is all shattered, scattered and clouded with their own crap. Lots of very strange things happen in those places. I eventually started to get better, a mix between medication and what felt like me deciding I had seen enough. I got a sense that I could stay there forever if I wanted to, but decided to answer questions and behave the way I was meant to and move on. I lived in the residential setting for another month before coming home again.

Because I had studied psychosis and the mental health system, there was often a witness part of me, an educated part of me that was studying myself, studying the system and the people around me like an experiment in a petri dish, fascinated, watching the doctors and the way they dealt with my illness, knowing what I was going through, but not being able to do a whole lot about it. I still to this day wonder what would have happened if I had gotten myself to nature, been nourished with good food and supported by people who were able to hold and not be afraid of where I was at, what would have happened if I was allowed to move through all and come out the other end naturally? In the beginning I would try to express to the doctors that I felt I was having psychic experiences but soon realized this was a very bad idea and to keep quiet about that. The doctors would always ask me if I felt I had special powers of any kind. I knew that of course I did – we all did! But you learn to answer the questions the way you have to get out and be considered ‘normal’ again. It’s an amazing experience to try and prove your sanity and navigate your way out of the system, I am an intense person naturally, and many of us are a little ‘mad’ particularly the creative types, but you’ve got to play the sane game to get out of there.

The symbolic content of my psychosis was quite specific and the experience is still unravelling in regards to the nature of the hallucinatory material and where it came from– with some very strange things actually coming true or revealing their meaning months later! For example, I believed at one point that I was on a reality television show, and a few months after my psychosis had ended I was actually on a real reality show for foxtel ha that was a trip. Some of it still doesn’t make sense and I have no idea where it came from and maybe it never will. More will be revealed..

I am currently on a small amount of medication and will be off it completely in a month and out of the mental health system (as a client) for what I hope is for good! I have learnt so much from my experience and feel I have so much more insight into the psyche of myself and humans in general. I know this experience will continue to shape my life and my interests for years to come as it is such a rich and complex experience that I continue to have insights about. I believe people who have mental illnesses are often extremely creative, sensitive brilliant individuals with so much to offer but in the western world we do not yet have a framework for people who are not like ‘everyone else’  I feel passionate about working in mental health now and supporting people going through similar experiences, I am currently applying for support worker jobs in mental health. I am commencing university to study psychology, drama and film and am more fascinated in learning about the brain and doing my own research in the future as well as possibly working on further creative projects related to psychosis, in particular my own experience.

I am a massive advocate for people sharing their experiences of mental illness! I was frequently told by various professionals to keep my experience to my self which I believe just encourages the stigma. Shout it out!

Michelle's Duck

Youth groups are experts at getting teenagers into God. When you're 15, what better way to spend a friday night than being felt up in the back of a youth group minibus and having slurpee drinking, jam donut eating competitions. Combine a sugar rush, teenage hormones and a small religious sermon to finish off the night, and a bunch of rowdy teens leave the group feeling mighty high on his holy light. One night, my friend spilt jam from her donut on the sleeve of her jumper and was convinced it was stigmata sign from the big man upstairs. So at 15 my impressionable mind decided to become fully fledged born again christian.

Michelle was one of the Youth leaders, she was 25, alternative, relatable and added massive street cred to loving jesus. She had dyed pink pieces in her dreadlock hair, and snorted when she laughed. One night she picked my friend and I up in her little blue hatchback, for a bible studies group. As we pulled out onto the main drag, she sped up fast, swerving wildly all over the road, as we clutched at our seats in the back. She laughed hysterically throwing her head back, turning around to flash us a mad look..

“SO DO YOU BELIEVE IN GOD!!!??” she screamed – before screeching the car to a stunning halt. We all sat in silence before she continued on driving as if nothing had happened. God or no god, life was never boring with Michelle around, she was something else. She was mad with faith and high on life, it was contagious.

Of course being a fickle teenager, after 6 months or so, the fad of christianity petered out and we lost contact with Michelle, I saw her once on Sam Newman’s street talk – jabbering on about something – the distinctive snort in her laugh still there. Then a couple of years later we met her in a shopping centre, we exchanged hellos and hugs before she presented her hang bag and opened it up, motioning for us to look inside and meet her new friend. There inside was a tiny baby duck, the soft yellow of its downy feathers, its small pink beak, cheeping away on a bed of tissues. She told us she loved the duck so much she could not think to leave him at home, so she made a bed for him in her bag to be with him always, safe and held amongst her wallet and lipstick. She kept her bag closed and we walked through the shopping centre chatting away, opening her bag upon request now and then to check on him. As the hour passed the ducks cheeps seemed to be getting less frequent, I didn’t dare to ask her how long she had had him in there before we met, but suggested we get him to some water for a drink. We stole away into the toilets next to Mcdonalds and she gently lifted the duck onto the basin. Michelle meticulously fill the sink with water, cupped her hands and tried to get him to drink, His cheeping was getting fainter and he seemed to be gasping for air now. Panic started to rise, My friend and I watched in horror for the next ten minutes, as Michelle became more frantic and desperate to get the duck to drink, as it became weaker and less responsive, it's cheeps barely audibly now. After some time, the duck stopped breathing, she held it, limp and motionless in her hands and cried, tears streaming down her face she looked to us for some consol. Like a baby, howling, "God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Oh my God! " as she patted its still, soft body. She had loved the little thing so much, she had loved it to death. We buried it in my friends garden that afternoon, and said a little prayer.

BODYMIND

Yes. No.

I changed my mind again. Well, it wasn’t really my mind doing the changing, but the persistent beating inside my chest . Or perhaps lower again, maybe the squirmishness in my gut made me do it. Lower? No not any lower than that, I am a woman, my genitals do not make my decisions..i don't. think.

Feel. Stay with me. Beckoning, whispering, hinting. My head cocks slightly in the north-easterly direction. Wait for tonight when the sky is dark. Breathe, Flow. Enjoy the sunshine. Easy.

Listen. MOVE! South- West NOW before it's too late to see where you're going!

WHAM! Heavy brick smashes me in the face. Hard.

A trusty compass. The body knows. The mind tries to barge its way in and take action.

DO something! It’s for your own good. Scared shitless. Fucking control freak.

Legs itch. The smell of fish fills my nostrils. Have you learnt your lesson yet?

Free Like Me

Well your first mistake, is you love a good steak.

Second, you care about your hair.

Your fruit is not organic – your sex is not tantric.

Yeah, you’ve got a lot to change, until you’re free like me.

Well, I can clear negative energy from your chakras,

It’ll only cost you 100 dollars.

Woah, your third eye is really blocked.

Yeah, you’ve got some work to do, until you’re free like me.

I can help you with your fear of intimacy,

Just take your clothes off and come with me.

You’ve never heard of a cuddle puddle?

Wow, You’ve got a lot to learn.

Until you’re free like me.

Express yourself man!

No, Not like that.

Thank God, I’m here to help you out.

All ego and attachment, you must rid yourself of!

Didn't you realise, it's all about truth and love?

PEACE :)

Hooray For The Winter Blues!

As we head into the thick of winter there seems to be a collective need for hibernation. Not just in a physical sense; with an abudance of coughs, colds and swine flu panic - but on an emotional level as well. You may be feeling more fragile at the moment, out of sorts , not yourself, down in the dumps -whatever you want to call it, there seems to be a particular need for internal time at the moment.

The problem is we DO NOT live in society that accepts the NEED for down time, let alone giving it any importance - we've got this disturbing 'harden the fuck up' mentality where nuturing ourselves is seen as a anti-social weakness that surely a night on the town and a couple of bourbans can fix. So I'm here to tell you otherwise and encourage you to embrace these darker times in life as a chance for renewal, that require just as much attention, respect and acknowledgement as the warm bliss of sunshine.

Historically many societies honoured the cylical nature of life - The concept of death and rebirth was everywhere; in the change of seasons, the crop cycles, the moon - AND the up and down, eb and flow of emotion. So it was seen that just as a rose bush needs to be cut back to an 'ugly' stump in winter in order to fully bloom again in the summer time - so humans need to move into introverted, reflective and darker places emotionally in order to emerge again, full and powerful. It can be said that once patriarchal rule and christianity made it big, heaven and hell became very real and very separate places in in our psyche and we all knew exactly where we wanted be (and if we didn't then we'd probably be burnt at the stake). From then on darkness held negative connotations of death, evil and sin - things we should reject and avoid at all costs - move towards the light and the heavens good people! The pure spirits will guide you.

Whether you value religion or not, this is history, social function is undeniably a product of the past and to favour light over dark can still very much be witnessed today. When we're feeling down, we still turn to the pure spirits to make it all better - but rather than praying down to the holy ghost, we smash 5 tequila shots at the pub. No wonder theres so much fucking suicide when pain is something we'd rather not hear about.

We need to start allowing ourselves to honestly move into how we REALLY feel and to do it whole heartedly - to embrace the empty branches knowing the seed is still very much alive in the earth and the flowers will be back soon. As well as honouring yourself, its important to remember we all go through the light and the dark at different times and it is equally important to allow your friends to do what they need to do too - if a friend is feeling fragile while your ready for a crazy party - acknowledge where your both at and part ways for the night - vodka for you - a bath tub for your friend.* Often social pressures to be light hearted and fun 24/7 are the exact reason we never tune into what we really need, so don't encourage this bullshit by thinking your 'cheering them up' by dragging their ass out of bed and shouting them a free pill. That's not how it works and really what we all need is someone to tell us that how we're feeling is OKAY! So whether its you who is in a darker faze right now or someone you know - remember life isn't all sunshine and rainbows and be gentle with yourself.

A cold snap may be just what you need.




* Severe depression or suicide obviously requires more than just a bath tub so seek professional help if it's more than just the winter blues.

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The Stretch

I remember reading an interview with Jamie Durie a few years ago, where he quoted his life motto as “Bite off more than you can chew and chew like hell” Forgetting these words of advice came from an ex Manpower member, I knew he was on to something. Just like any muscle in our bodies, our minds need to be stretched too; to step out of comfort zones, do things that are scary and surround ourselves with people that challenge us. I have been actively chasing these types of stretches for the past few years with many of my experiences revolving around pushing my boundaries and my fears - but lately I've started to question whether there is more to growth than pain.

Getting a massage off a friend the other day she asked me to tell her when the pressure was too much. As she kneaded and kneaded into my pain it came to a point where she could literally not go any deeper unless she wanted to rip open my flesh! She commented in suprise at how much pressure I could take, so I decided to let her work on me more softly for awhile. To my amazement I had a powerful and painless experience and a new realisation hit me - although I could handle whatever pain I was subjected to, whether that was what I always 'kneaded' was another thing.

“There is a duck inside you
Her bill is never still, searching through dry
And wet alike, like a rover in an empty house
Cramming objects in his sack, pearls, chickpeas,
Anything. Always thinking “There’s no time!
I won’t get another chance!”

If we spend all our time delving below the surface, looking for meaning, challenges and growth - we will never get to taste the fruits of our labor and all the goodies we have collected in our search! I think there needs to be a balance of diving into the depths of our selves and bopping in bliss on the surface and that life doesn’t have to always be an uncomfortable stretch on the rack. To have someone tell you that you’re amazing is just as vital and necessary as having someone make you question yourself. So although I will always be an advocate for facing your fears and going deep into the challenge of life – there is also beauty and importance in appreciating and loving who you are right now and letting yourself experience that softness too. To allow ourselves to feel the pain in order to get out those knots, but also give ourselves time to digest and be nutured.

Pain and pleasure are just as important as each other and there needs to be a balance of both when it comes to personal growth. Maybe you've been playing it safe in your comfortable bubble for a bit too long now, and a stretch is exactly what you need. But maybe like me you need to get off the rack and have a fucking hug!

Deep down we all know what is best for us. So take a moment now to ask yourself,

What do you NEED right now to GROW?


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My Time At The Titty Bar

For the past few months I have been working at a strip pub/topless bar (bartending fully clothed mind you) I found myself starting work at one of the dirtiest bogen establishments in Melbourne with sticky floors, drunken men and a strip show on the hour. Many of you may be thinking why the hell I ended up in a place like that. And I must say cash in hand and the fact that I didn't have another job at the time was a big part of it, but if I'm honest, I am an experience junkie and I knew it would certainly be one for the belt and a story to tell the grandkids haha. Although admittedly it is a slightly warped environment to be working in, I really believe there is a lesson to be learnt everywhere you go - so this ladies and gents, is what I've gotten from my time at the titty bar.

For one, I realised very quickly that men are sex crazed perverts who enjoy a challenge and would much rather harrass the innocent looking girl who's wearing all her clothes than the bad ass naked lady shaking her vagina in their faces. I also learnt that with alcohol, men can go from being VERY charming to VERY sleazy in a VERY short space of time - But most of that is pretty obvious. On a deeper level , what I came to really figure out was we all have differents masks and behaviors, and in order to properly function in our society we must chop and change these parts of ourselves to suite our environment. There is absolutely no fucking way I could have enjoyed myself working in that bar if I had walked in like some hippy, vipassana meditator and started trying to talk about remaining equanimous and the impermenance of the life with the patrons. Actually, I did tell one guy that I just gotten back from ten days of silence and his response was "Wow you must be really horny" Yes, I learnt very very quickly that the majority of the men were there to watch the cricket, get pissed and see some pussy; so pour them their beer, have a laugh and get over it. What it knocked into me was there is a time and place for everything and I will have a much happier and stress-free life if I realise that as long as I know who I am, like REALLY know who I am, even if it's just a vague notion of that very core of me - then no person or experience can take that away. As soon as we start clinging to ideas about our identity and who we think we are and aren't, what our scene is and what isn't, we miss out on so many unexpected opportunities to grow, learn and experience. So forget who you think YOU ARE - just take opportunities that come your way and embrace them for what THEY ARE.

Yep, I wiped down bars while naked chicks gyrated in front of me, poured beers with an ex stripper from Vegas called Ginger and kissed a bikie man on the cheek for 4 dollars - and you know what?

I had fun :)


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My Ten Days of Shh...

Well it has been nearly month since I embarked on Vipassana - and I am yet to write anything about it! So for the sake of peoples curiosity and my own records, Here is a brief account of my 10 tumultuous days of silence.

Vipassana, which means to see things as they really are, is one of India's most ancient techniques of meditation. It was taught in India more than 2500 years ago and was spread all over the world by a guy called Goenka in the 60's. It is a practice of observation. You take a vow of noble silence (silence of body, speech, and mind) for 10 days where you do not speak, gesture, make eye contact with anyone. The experience is yours and yours alone and you basically live as a monk/nun for your time there.

As soon as I read about Vipassana a few years ago I wanted to do it, I applied last year but backed out at the last minute. But a year later decided I really wanted to give it a go and felt it was now or never. I must admit in the few hours leading up to it, resistance flooded in once more - I started whining and whinging about going (for who's sake I don't know, considering it was ME who was choosing to go) Nevertheless something in me obviously knew that it would be a good experience - so I begrudingly packed my bags, reminded myself that it wasn't going to kill me, and reasoned that I might as well "get it over and done with" ha.

A day at Vipassana goes something like this -

At 4am A big gong gets hit to wake you up - everyone is supposed to begin meditation at 4.30am for 2 hours - I tried this for the first few days but it fucking killed me - so I reasoned that obviously I am not yet spiritual enough to wake up at this ungodly hour - and slept in. You are meditating in total about 10 hours a day with breaks inbetween - sometimes in the group hall and sometimes in your own room. Men and women are seperated. (thank god!) as there were some extra sexy hippy boys there which I fantasized about enough from across the field - let alone if we were sharing the same peanut butter! You get breakfast at 6.30am and lunch at 11 - dinner is two pieces of fruit and students who have done the course before get zippo - ouch. You are eased into the technique slowly for the first few days but there is really not a lot to it - you observe the sensations on your body without reacting and that's about it - sounds simple. Hell no! All your shit is laid bare and you realise what a crazy wild beast your mind is and that you are a paranoid, psychotic freak with massive issues. Sounds awesome right?

For the first few days I was in this mind set - berating myself for being such a fucking masochist and choosing to put myself through such torture. Was this spiritual path always going to be one of pain and torture? Why couldn't I just be content with normality? Why is everyone else around me looking so calm? Why do I ask so many questions? I was completely paranoid, at one stage convincing myself that the manager was judging me as a spiritual imposter and then that the girl in the bed across from me had obviously moved her pillow to the other end of the bed because she didn't want her feet near mine and there was probably bad energy coming out of them - I know, what the fuck - your mind just goes nuts. The thing is, it's actually doing what it is always doing all day every day, but when you have books, music, people, drugs, food, internet, the busy craziness of life - we are able to constantly distract ourselves and not have the faintest idea what nutters we are. Despite all the tears, paranoia and pain, as the days pass you really get to an understanding about things and the realisations you have are AMAZING. No one is there to validate your experience when issues come up, so you are forced to deal with them alone and you really get in touch with an inner wisdom. It's fantastic. If you are up for the challenge I would reccommend anyone to go. There is no religious dogma or ritual about it - and you don't even have to pay any money for it. All the centres run by donation only, you give what you can afford if you feel you have gotten something out of it - which I can guarantee you will.

Being back for a month now I see how easy it is to fall back into normal life, to forget everything I have learnt and go back to the same old stuff. And admittedly I do slip at times - however I have a new sense of determination and understanding about myself which i truly believe has changed my life. Personal development is cool and shit guys. Get into it!

http://www.dhamma.org/



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Great Expectations

There is a common consensus that once you’re in your thirties and forties, things begin to make sense, a time where many come to know who they really are and look more deeply at life. Whether the individual perceives it as a positive or negative time, it seems to be a period where people dare to ask themselves big questions and start demanding answers.

So what is it about the big 3 0 that makes people wake up? Is it the appearance of a grey hair? Boredom? Cellulite? The imminence of death? Yeah, these factors probably have something to do with it, but I think what we have underestimated is the power of expectation and belief. When picturing the lifespan; By 30 – 40 years old, we expect ourselves to have started settling down or at the very least gained a certain level of comfort in our skin. It’s a time when we are expected to have answers, so if we haven’t found them we are forced to start looking. These age expectations are constantly changing and are dependent on many factors - but I have started to wonder that when it all boils down to it, perhaps the only particularly magical thing about being 30 is the psychological perception of what we think it holds for us.

I turned 20 this year and I find that basically shit all is expected of me on a deeper level ‘You’re young” “You’ve got all the time in the world” are extremely frequent responses when I decide to take a reflective view point. I almost feel as if I am being dissuaded to care about things, purely because I am young and I should obviously be busying my mind with boys and alcohol like any ‘normal’ 20 year old. What disturbing and limiting views we have placed on age. If you’re under 30 then using your brain is not really required, but if you’re over 30 you better be stable and have all the answers OK!? If we continue to believe lifespan and maturity is this cut and dry, even if it’s from a deeply subconscious level, we will continue to have most 18-25 year olds acting like careless dip shits and confused 40 year old men fucking their secretaries and buying Ferraris. Expectation is a very powerful thing and can be used for both good and evil, and although I am a big believer of taking responsibility for your own actions, we’ve also got to remember the power we have in affecting others.

An experiment was conducted where a group of average students were divided into two classes. One class had a teacher who was told the pupils were gifted high achievers, while the other teacher was told hers were struggling slow learners. After some time, assessments of the student showed that the majority of the group which had been arbitrarily named as "gifted" obtained higher scores than they had previously, while the majority of the supposed "slow learners" scored lower. How both groups of kids performed had nothing to do with their real capabilities, but were simply reflections of the false beliefs their teachers had about them. When my mother wants me to empty the dishwasher for her, she simply leaves the door open. As I potter around making my breakfast in the morning it sits there expectantly, the gleaming dishes peaking out at me. I have never once closed the door on those clean plates, purely because of that damn blatant expectation staring me in the face.

If the only expectations we placed on each other were to have a sense of integrity and honesty about ourselves,(no matter how old) then there would be a lot less problems in the world. Epiphanies would not have to wait for the appearance of wrinkles if we could all just recognise that self awareness is independent of age. I think if we simply start encouraging more from the people around us - we may find that is exactly what we get. And really, If my mum can get me to do housework without saying a word - just think of the possibilities :)

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Stranger Danger?

I have always been one to talk to strangers. Whether it be a 5 minute conversation while waiting for a lift, or the eventuation of a meaningful friendship, I have always cherished this ability and the important openness it requires. Although some people do admire this side of me, more often than not I have been criticized, questioned or warned about my inclination for new friends "Why do you talk to randoms all the time?" "You have to be careful who you trust Vanessa." Human connection is one of the most beautiful and powerful things we as people have the ability to experience. Sharing energy is priceless and extremely influential and I believe exactly what life is about...so why may I ask, Are people so damn wary of it?

From frequently catching public transport I have often looked around and witnessed this common 'own little world' syndrome people choose to be overcome by. People on trains are scared to even look at each other let alone talk. Simply locking eyes with someone sitting across from you usually results in both parties nervously looking away, however with an abundance of iPods and MX papers to busy ourselves; this uncomfortable awkwardness can usually be avoided – thank god for that. I have often wondered how much we could all learn on a simple 40 minute train ride if conversation with strangers was the norm. How many potential stories and lessons and perspectives are in one carriage alone. What's everyone so afraid of?

I seriously think part of this fear comes from the whole 'Stranger Danger' thing drummed into us as kids...as children our brains do not have the ability to make informed and safe decisions true; so rather than parents teaching us about trust, instinct and perception its easier to just say "don't talk to anyone you don't know" But realistically, once you reach a certain age a charismatic man with a hot car and a handful of boiled lollies isn't always going to result in sex (and if it does we now have the cognition to convince ourselves it was his great personality that did it) My question is, If you can't trust strangers, who can you trust? Basically every person you know would have been a random to you at some point in your life. So what made it okay to speak to them? Because your cousin knew them? Because you had two friends in common on face book? This word 'Stranger' is fuelled with such negativity. But why? In the good words of the Simpson's "A strangers just a friend you've never met' (or was that Yeats?) Anyway, as corny as it sounds I really believe that.

I ultimately think everyone is just a little scared. We are constantly bombarded of images and news reports of rape and murder. Made to believe that we live in a world full of hidden motives, innuendo, selfishness and greed. (which granted there is an abundance of) However people start to believe that this is all we are and all we are really capable of, which is far from the truth. When really humans are naturally empathetic creatures -built for connection. When two people speak the neurons in their brain literally mirror each other, adjusting to each others feelings and thought processes in order to connect. So really by limiting our people circles and interactions we are denying our natural instinct and capabilities. By keeping to our own little worlds and thoughts we are safe, and with our own boundaries and limitations we set the exact pace of how we want to live. And yeah sometimes it's safer to not invite anyone completely foreign in to challenge that. To feel like we have control over what we do, who we speak to and what we want to learn is comforting, not to mention sad.

Sure one could argue that there are waay too many 'weirdos' in this world to not be wary. But that's where perceptiveness and instinct come in. Staying alert and open to people around you will more likely keep undesirables away in the first place because you're not living internally but opening up to what's around you. We need to start recognizing where these ideas about strangers have come from. Is closing ourselves off really about personal safety, or merely a protective covering of our own fragile egos? I don't think it's really strangers we are afraid of..but what we may learn about ourselves in the process.

What a beautiful thing it is to connect with someone. To learn something new, to share some helpful advice. A song you heard. A country you visited. A person you met. To share ideas, To understand, to relate, to introduce them to someone who may change their life. To compliment their shoes. To participate in other peoples lives. To be affected and to affect simultaneously. That's what it's about. There are so many souls floating around on this earth and not nearly as many connections between them all as there should be. So smile at someone the next time you are on the train. Don't put your head down when you cross someone on the footpath. It doesn't mean you have to try and strike up conversation with every single person you come into contact with. Simply open yourself up to inviting people into your world and be willing to reach out into theirs if occasion calls for it...and believe me it always does. You'll be surprised at how different it actually feels simply taking away this stranger danger mindset.

And let's face it, life's too short to say no to a hot man with lollies :)

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Welcome To The Real World

Whether you're merely there for the half price drinks - or are actually working your ass off, University and TAFE are institutions very similar to high school. Now that year 12 is complete the days of uniform, detentions and 80 cent potato cakes are most certainly over; the freedom is excessive and you don't even have to attend lectures if you can't be fucked...so this is the real world right? Well after experiencing first hand some of the sad realities of the corporate life for the better (or worse) part of this year, I have to say no. But let me add some of the attitudes I have seen from this 'real world' are a hell of a lot more disturbing than 11am starts and 2 dollar pots in tertiary education.

Working fulltime was all very exciting to begin with, I bought some new snappy clothes and shoes (which I must say seriously slaughtered my feet) and I was pretty damn excited- blistered, but excited never the less. There was this lovely feeling of unity as I sat amongst my new stoic, carbon copy friends on the 8.10 train to work every morning. I was suddenly part of a world which had so far seemed quite removed and alien to me and I was accepted and sharing it with them - I was part of it. Now if you'd have asked them whether they felt this same connection they'd probably look up from their skinny latte and New Weekly and go "Wha..?" but admittedly for awhile there was something beautiful and comforting about it. I guess piteously as it was, I felt like a grown up. But as the weeks went on, I started to become quite disturbed by this monotonous, repetitive lifestyle me and my suited-up friends were living. As my bafflement turned to frustration and my troubled opinions were voiced, I was amazed at how many people patted me on my quixotic little head and welcomed me to the working world. A place where the week is wished away by friday countdowns, people live for the weekends and mondays are dreaded like the plague. Is this seriously how people want to live?

Now if any person who does wear a suit, endures 9-5 etc happens to this read this blog, they will most likely laugh at my ignorant idealism and continue procrastinating the day away on someone else's MySpace. But to my own defense (surprise surprise) being able to experience and see this part of life when I am indeed young, idealistic and yeah little bit ignorant; in my opinion has given me much more of an objective view on the inner workings of it all. I have experienced regular Monday morning meetings where upon asked how everything is going, the replies are moans and groans of "shit" "bored" "over it" etc. Well I'm sorry but naïve or not, fuck that for a joke.It seems to me, working life and culture, at least in the corporate Monday to Friday world, is one aspect where a large majority of society feels they can justify their suffering and compromise their passions. There is this disturbing collective notion that life is one big struggle and something we all have to endure rather than enjoy. I do not believe for a minute everything is easy. But I really think hard work does not have to be a 'hardship' if you do what you love and follow what you're passionate about. For some reason this notion of hating your job, accepting second best and not following what gets us really pumped – is all part and parcel of this so called 'real world' and our little burden to bear.

If we feel sick do we not go to the doctors to get some medicine? If we feel cold, do we not put on a jumper? For every problem there is a solution, perhaps not an immediate one, but a solution no less. Maybe you will have to eat Maggi noodles for a month, sell you're Louie vuitton handbags, or admit to yourself that you have just spent 5 years studying for something you now realise you can't stand - but we are never completely trapped. Call me young and idealistic if you will, but is it so ridiculous to think that if we have a blister on our foot it would be wise to just stop wearing the fucking shoe?

So maybe uni kids actually have it right…they're doing (or drinking) what makes them happy and working out what it is they're really passionate about. I did work experience at monash and I now understand why there were so many veteran students who had been there for years, continuing on with honours, masters and whatever else was on offer, refusing to remove their heads from their books and thesis' and stop studying for good.

I don't think it's just about saying good-bye to monday morning sleep-ins and concession benefits. The real thing graduates must leave behind is the safe little bubble where they can do what they like without being frowned upon for not confirming to societies bullshit cultural ideals regarding work. "I'm studying at uni" sounds a shitload better than "I'm inbetween jobs at the moment working out where I want to go from here" Because once you're out of there, once you've graduated from an institution where doing what you love is acceptable and customary, will we really have the balls to stick to our guns? It remains to be seen.

My only hope is that yes, someday everyone will. Maybe there will be some huge revolutionary shift, perhaps starting with my blog (now that's idealism) and the 'I hate my job, but so does everyone else' outlook will be abolished forever. But if not, don't be surprised if soon enough you hear those same familiar words I have heard time and time again this year…'Welcome to the Real World...'


PhD anyone?


*Disclaimer*
The writer acknowledges that wearing a suit and working 9-5 is not always directly proportional to hating your job.


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Can I Get A Price Check On A Good Personality?

‘Shopping for Love’ was as crappy, brainless and uneventful as reality television could get, and for those who weren’t fortunate enough to ever catch it - well honestly you didn’t miss much. However I am an out and proud fan of what most consider very bad television, so every Wednesday night; straight after The Bachelor, I watched it – a program where two sickening, over the top hosts run around Chadstone Shopping Centre, helping single contestants shop for a potential partner they haven’t met. Now although Shopping for Love’s air time was particularly short lived, I suspect it played some part in the popularity of R.S.V.P - Australia’s largest singles website. RSVP was where Shopping for Love sourced its contestants, and with approx 1.3 Million members – That’s a hell of a lot of people looking for love. Although so many of us are willing to admit we haven’t got it right, interestingly enough we all claim to want exactly the same thing from a partner. Check out the profiles on R.S.V.P and I can guarantee in nearly every ‘Ideal Partner’ section you can find the generic pre-requisites of “Intelligent, Sense of Humor, Down to Earth, Loyal” - So if we all want and desire the same things, why do so many people keep failing miserably and rushing back to the store demanding a refund? Have we just been browsing in the wrong aisle? Or is there something more to it?

What we think we want is obviously very different to who we are realistically choosing to be with. The reason being when we don't feel happy and content in ourselves the relationships we have will be unhealthy ones - it’s as simple as that. How can we expect to make the right purchase when our hunger and thirst for things like affection and attention is manipulating our choice? "Shopping while hungry will just make you buy food that isn’t good for you and food you don’t need" The same applies in relationships – and whether we realise it or not a majority of us are just shopping on empty stomachs. When hungry; extremely important considerations regarding good nutritional content, the used by date, the fact that your throat completely closed up last time you ate those nuts; are easily disregarded in the face of instant gratification. We all know what is bad for us, but if we're hungry who gives a shit right? I'm all for the occasional ‘Impulse buy’ because everyone deserves having a good old binge once in awhile. But remember, if you choose to make frequent unhealthy choices, there’s no one to blame but yourself when you’re left fat arsed or heartbroken.

Obesity, bad relationships, addiction – they all stems from the fact that we’re ravenous as fuck and believe contentment can be found outside of ourselves. However those grumbles will not ever disappear if we continue to think love means finding someone in order to feel 'Complete.' Satisfaction is not anything we can buy from others. It’s not about writing a detailed list of what you want, it's about ensuring you make your purchases when you feel full, and only then will you get what you need.

So the next time someone tempting from the bad food group asks "Can I help you?" the reply can be as simple as "Just looking Thanks!"…and we all know that drill.

..Like They Do On The Discovery Channel?

“DO U WANT 2 SHAG? NO EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENTS OR CALLING ME EVERYDAY LIKE LAST TIME. I JUST WANT 2 GIVE YOU A PROPER POUNDING” - C

When I received this text message from my ex, I think it’s safe to say I was completely taken aback. Where was the chivalry? The charm? Or at the very least, a wink-face to soften the blow would’ve been nice. When it comes to sex I have always ranked honesty high on the list, and believed being upfront was the only way to conduct a healthy relationship. But I have to admit, when this little gem beeped into my inbox at 6am on Sunday morning, I was forced to rethink whether honesty really was the best policy. Or was the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, merely an archaic fantasy?

As I desperately scoured my minimal relationship experiences for a sliver of candors existence, It dawned on me that perhaps we have all been conditioned to hold a certain level of dishonesty when it comes to the opposite sex. Old sexual stereotypes portray the ideal female as a demure, respectable young lady - While men were expected to be strong, proper gentleman, who treated women accordingly at all costs. Girls: Smile, cross your legs and be pretty. Men: Take charge, open doors and pay for dinner. Despite the complexities of human beings, for a majority of our ancestors, the law of attraction was cut and dry modesty. Thanks to the sexual revolution of the 60’s, BigBrother Uncut and a number of Peaches Album’s, our society is obviously far more liberal these days – however there is still undeniably some level of sexual etiquette that forces us to stifle our urges and behave. If *insert un-researched bias news program here* is correct, and we do model our behavior on the deviant music and television programs currently available, then in theory sexual restraint should not exist today. So why does it? Evolution proves that we were all monkeys to begin with…so shouldn’t we all be doing it ‘like they do on the discovery channel’ by now?

Well, maybe not. As a sexual invitation to their female counterparts, Male primates’ squat with their knees spread wide, and while slapping their palms on the ground, thrust their pelvis forward to display their erect penis. Although this mental image may not seem so strange to anyone who has witnessed the drunken 3am dance of the typical Australian male, on a whole this sort of public animalistic behavior would obviously not make for a very productive society. Therefore when parading our mojo is a no-go, we humans have cleverly learnt there are other, more prolific methods to get our freak on.

Innuendo (commonly referred to as beating around the bush) has now become dating protocol – by mastering the use of metaphor, body language and tight fitting clothes, we are able to express all those naughty things we want to do to each other and still appear to be the semi-respectable people our mother’s hoped for. The art of suggestion is not a new concept - A young man called Bobby wrote in a 1950’s youth magazine,

“When a boy takes a girl out and spends $1.20 on her (like I did the other night) he expects a little petting in return!”

Even in this seemingly innocent era when sexual decorum was at its peak, flirting had nothing to do with honesty. Bobby had that car all warmed up and waiting at the make out spot when he invited Peggy-Sue to the local diner, because chivalry and charm; whether it’s opening a door, or blowing $1.20 on a milkshake, is simply good, old fashioned sexual innuendo.

So why do we even waste our time when we all know what we really want? Maybe The Bloodhound Gang and my Ex were onto something. Should we put a stop to all this hair twiddling and Facebook poking and just get it over with already? Yes, we would be saving ourselves a lot of blood, sweat and hair product if we did - but what we would in turn be losing is the exact excitement we all long for; the flirty eyes, the wining, the dining, the footsies under the table, the anticipation and the butterflies. Even birds have extensive, colorful mating rituals to attract sexual partners, and while Darwinists conclude this is purely an evolutionary development - I think our feathered friends have decided that they too, prefer the thrill of the chase. And can we blame them? At the end of the day, innuendo reminds us that figuring out the puzzle can be just as satisfying as the prize.

So if a ‘proper pounding’ is all you’re really after…I’d like my $1.20 milkshake with a little extra sugar thanks Bobby!

I Judge You When You Travel With Contiki

Travel - It’s something so many young people are eager to get out and do. It will change you, make you a stronger person and open up your eyes to a world much bigger than what you’ve experienced so far – well, most of the time.

For those who aren’t aware, although due to its disturbing popularity I’m sure you are - Contiki (AKA a Chuck and Fuck tour) is a travel company which offers ‘amazing overseas experiences for 18-35 year olds.’ For anyone willing to fork out the extra few thousand dollars, Contiki boasts the following ’unique’ opportunities;

Discovering Different Cultures

At Contiki we do our best to make sure you see everything. In order to do so we travel through 10 completely different, multi faceted, complex countries in just 2 WEEKS! You’ll be sure to get a real understanding of them ALL, or at least try the beer.

Creating memories that will last a lifetime **

Contiki plans every last detail for you; including stimulating activities such as body shots and pool volleyball, without you even needing to leave the hotel! In case things get too overwhelming, we also provide you with your very own tour guide, who is also available as a slightly more drunk and unethical substitute mother.

** Considering the general intoxication levels of our travelers - Contiki takes no responsibility for your memories NOT lasting a lifetime or even into the next morning for that matter.

“Meeting new people from all over the globe”

Of course with Contiki you’ll always be surrounded by like-minded souls with the same views, opinions and bottled hair color as yourself - We offer safety in the fact that it’s highly likely one of your ’new’ friends will have grown up in the same suburb as you, and knows your brother. By spending ALL your time with your group, we helpfully eliminate the chance that you may meet someone who challenges you.

WOW, THANKS CONTIKI!

What a joke. Contiki has basically created one big, fat, safety net for anyone wanting to stay in their prospective bubbles of ignorance, by attempting to make travel a ‘normal’ experience. The thing is, overseas travel isn’t normal, it isn’t safe - that’s what makes it so special and life changing. The reason you hear about people getting so much out of their experiences overseas, is because it forces you OUT of your comfort zone. You find yourself with people, and in places you never thought you would. You might get lost, struggle to communicate and feel scared shitless. But all the things that may initially make you feel uncomfortable, are the exact forces that enable you to realise your own potential - these are the parts of travel that make you grow up and help you to understand yourself and the world around you - Okay, so some people aren’t always up for a bit of personal development (fucking weirdo’s if you ask me) but if this is the case, then why waste thousand of dollars, and not just stick to pissing on at the local with your mates? With Contiki you’re STILL getting wasted and STILL picking up randoms like every other week - But Hey, You’re doing it in another country now! - LOOK OUT!

So if you choose Contiki, PLEASE don’t expect to come back any different to when you left - apart from a lot less of my respect and a few less brain cells.


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You Can't Take the Boy Out of Backstreet

When I decided to attend the backstreet boys concert on saturday night, I was all geared up for some good old fashioned boy band cheese. Instead to my horror, I was pulled right out of my fond pre-pubescent memories and thrown head first into an alternate universe - where, over Benny Benassi's 'Satisfaction', Nick Carter is bashing the shit out of his electronic drum kit and asking me if I am ready rave...disturbingly enough, I'm not kidding.

If you go to a boyband concert there are certain things you expect;

Choerographed moves? - Check.

Young girls screaming their tits off? -Check.

The band samplying Daft Punk? - What the Fuck !?


In an obvious attempt to break out of their cheesy mould, the night was filled with quite a few of those jaw dropping moments, where I thought 'Hang on...where am I again?" Throughout the show I reasoned that I had two options, I could stalk out of Rod Laver in disgust, or I could take it for what it was and have a good time. So yes, when the boys broke into a slightly remixed version of Backstreets Back, and told me to wave my hands in the air like I just didn't care - I did just that.

Obviously the show was not what I had expected, but at the end of the day I am not the same person I was 10 years ago, and neither are they. Of course part of me wanted them to be the same bowl cutted, finger clicking, baby faced little boys that I adored so much when I was younger, but like everyone- they grew up. And with growth and change comes the sad fact of life that you're unable to fufill the expectations of the same people anymore. But what we need to remember, is at the end of the day you'll always have fans - whether they are clinging to your past, appreciating you at present, or waiting for you in the future.


So BSB, as fans of your past I salute you...And Daft Punk aside they still thankfully did pull out the cheese; matching leather jackets and enough nasal 'oooo baby's' to fufill any young girls fantasy - Reminding me that there's a little bit of our past in all of us -

I still paid to see the backstreet boys after all :)


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Confessions of a Lost Soul

They say the first step to a cure is admitting you have a problem, so in favour of the former and in view of my current revelations, I have decided to make an official statement in order to move foward.

So guess what people? - I'm lost as fuck.

A self proclaimed free spirit, over the past few months I have admittedly been at a low point. Internally questioning every move I make I've spent a vast majority of the time scrutinizing my map so ferociously that I haven't even bothered to put my head up and take a look at where I am, let alone appreciate the scenery! This self depricating behaviour has ultimately led to a personal demise and certain crushing of my soul. And to be quite frank, I'm over it. The constant questions from the type of traveller I despise the most, have been rading my conciousness day in and day out - Will this path get me here? Should I be turn right or left in a hundred metres? Is this route well travelled or should I try something a little more off the beaten track? And lately it's just come to me, shut the hell up bitch, stop getting hung up on the destination and start enjoy the bloody ride...Who would've thought that ironically I'd become this lost from simply searching too hard? (well apart from the buddhists..) And now in reflection, I'm realising it's just about having the balls to ditch your damn compass once in awhile - and that's when the true magic happens.

Now although I won't be purchasing a wanky sticker for my car just yet, from now on I'm going back to my roots and following whatever path happens to find me; twisty, turny, dead end, straight down the guts - bring it. I think I'm ready again, to embrace the journey and revel in the fact that me and my not-so trusty map won't know shit about what somethings really like, until we've been there.

So I'm off for a wide-eyed wander, crossing bridges once I've actually got to them, with my faith in the knowledge that wherever I end up, I know I'll make the most of it. And anyway like a good friend once said to me -


All roads lead home :)



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Yellow's Just Not My Colour

There are some really dedicated people out there.

Whether it be committing to a 6 year Uni degree or spending every weekend at the same club. I have often felt a mixture of contempt and envy for this kind. The kind, who with a hop step and jump find their path and with the finish line in view put down their determined little heads and commit to something, Its like their life purpose (or at least what DJ they will be rockin' to Saturday night) has already been easily uncovered and they are content to stick with it. But lately this fine line between someone with an admirable focus, and a boring creature of habit is becoming quite blurred for me.

Those of you who know me would know predictability and routine is not something I possess much of and I have often been quite determined for this to be the case. My path honestly resembles more of a non-environmentally friendly bush bashing session than a well-laid yellow brick road. I thrive on the un-known and the undiscovered. I am always making new friends, trying something different and discovering a new hobbie (which I won't necessarily stick to). I have had a number of fleeting friendships, conversations and connections with all types of people who are now just a distant memory or a random name and number in my mobile.

Now in hearing this any trained psychologist would probably write

"Vanessa is an extremely capable young woman whose fear of failure results in her never aiming to achieve anything significant in all facets of her life" *

And yeah to be honest, lately this sort of predictable psycho analysis has been making me question - Would my life actually be more significant and successful, if right now I chose a more predictable and direct path? And am I actually a free spirit, or really just a lost soul?

Firstly the question I think we really need to be asking is, What exactly is 'significance?' What is 'success'? Isn't achievement really just a subjective interpretation anyway? I think a lot of the time we forget that. Just because all the midgets are talking about it doesn't mean there's only one way to get to Emerald city. The Yellow Brick Road is a lovely little route – and perhaps I do seem like a flighty non-committal idiot for not taking it too. But maybe right now, Yellows just not my color.

What I've realised is there are a number of paths people can follow to get where they need to be, and although it's usually a lot easier to face the lions and tigers and bears (oh my) with someone by your side, it's not always the most beneficial. So whether you're bracing it alone or linked arms with a bunch of heart-less brain-less friends you picked up along the way, we all have things we need and I think if we follow our passion eventually we'll all be clicking our heels and ending up at the very same place anyway..here's hoping.

And I think this is just me and my way, destined to explore the unknown, to meet, to understand and to move on. And as sucky and cliché as it sounds- maybe I just have to make my own path – (and fuck the environment those apple throwing trees were assholes anyway)


So hopefully I'll catch you all at the Emerald City, but for now people, I've got a date with a flying monkey.



* For those of you who are wondering, I have not as yet recently received counselling - this is a fictional quote created by the me. (the queen of self scrutiny)









Would YOU trust these guys?


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