I intended that these blogs would contain my words, inspiration, etc but I came across this and wanted to share it:

An Anthem of Unconditional Love
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I love you as you are as you seek to find your own special way to relate to the world, or the way you feel that is right for you. It is important that you are the person you want to be and not someone that I or others think you should be.

I realise that I cannot know what is best for you although perhaps sometimes I think I do. I've not been where you have been, viewing life from that angle you have. I do not know what you have chosen to learn, how you have chosen to learn it with whom or in what time period. I have not walked life looking through your eyes so how can I know what you need.

I allow you to be in the world without a thought or word of judgment from me about the deeds you undertake. I see no error in the things you say and do, in this place where I am. I see that there are many ways to perceive and experience the different facets of our world. I allow without reservation the choices you make in each moment.

I make no judgment of this for if I were to deny your right to evolution then I would deny that right to myself and all others. To those who would choose a way I cannot walk, while I may not choose to add my power and my energy to this way, I will never deny you the gift of love, as I love you so I shall be loved, as I sow, so I shall reap.

I allow you the universal right of free will to walk your own path, creating steps or to sit a while if that is what is right for you. I will make no judgment of these steps, whether they are large or small, light or heavy or that they lead up or down, for this is just my viewpoint.

~unknown

I've not copied the full "anthem", but the paragraphs above resonate with me at the moment. When I read it I couldn't help but think of a certain person who is very special to me.

Hope you are all having a good weekend!

Yesterday, I got in touch again with a very good friend from high school - Corrina. Over the years, we’ve sort of lost touch and then somehow, despite moving to different continents, changes in location, and email addresses, we always seem to “find” each other again. Reading her email and catching up on all her news, got me reminiscing about past friends and childhood.

On one hand, I had a rather idyllic upbringing - well, it was to me. I had my little group of friends, and on all accounts (my mothers), I was rather bossy and led my little gang to all sorts of mischief. Most of our time was spent outdoors – TV was only introduced in the mid 70’s so I wasn’t brought up with it. Even when it was introduced, my father took some convincing before we were allowed it in the house. Evenings were spent reading and listening to the radio, and my days were spent with my friends - swimming, riding our bikes and pretending they were horses, making up “treasure maps” of the neighbourhood and going on our little adventures, climbing trees, “breaking” back into my house and playing with my mothers clothes and make up. I guess I should explain, both my parents worked and prior to attending school at age 6 ½, I was left in the care of my friends’ nanny. She didn’t care so we were able to run around wild until school came out and my older brother would come to collect me. In many ways, thinking back, if I had been brought up in this country, in this day and age, my parents probably would have been in trouble from Social Services! But there was none of that, so me and my gang (bearing in mind we were all pre-school) roamed the streets. In our innocence we believed we were safe, as we never really understood what potential dangers were out there. But no harm ever did come to us and when as an adult I divulged to my mother what I got up to, she was absolutely horrified!

My little idyllic world was however not so idyllic as it was set against a backdrop of apartheid; being scared of my parents; sleeping with my door locked in order to stop my brother from trying to sneak in at night; and generally a life which was very restricted and controlled. It wasn’t until the ’76 Soweto riots that I became aware of what apartheid was about. Being 10 yrs old at the time, most very much went way over my head and it was difficult to comprehend & understand. Politics was never discussed at home and definitely not encouraged, neither was any form of debate. But before starting school, all this was “alien” to me – me and my gang played in our little world oblivious to all that was going around.

The start of school was therefore the beginning of the end of innocence for me. From being a little wild child (not in front of my parents naturally), I turned into a goody-two-shoes at school. Funny thing is, I’m not really sure what happened or why. My memory of pre-school days are pretty good, my memory of my early years at school are pretty hazy. Throughout primary school (up until age 12/13), I had the same small group of friends as pre-school. When it came to high school, we moved town and slowly over the years I lost contact with those friends. I do still wonder what’s happened and what they are doing now.

High school was a different ball game - I really didn’t enjoy my high school days that much. More because of things happening at the home front – as I grew up and understood more, you realise that life is a lot more complicated plus you “see” things which as a young child you’re oblivious to. I understood that Dad wasn’t this remote, strong, scary figure but a vulnerable, alcoholic who I still think suffered from depression. (My father is no longer alive so I’ll never know the full truth.) My mother tried her best to cover up for Dad although up until his death, she wouldn’t acknowledge he had a problem. My father wasn’t violent, but he became increasingly possessive in that he didn’t like it when my friends or my mother’s family visited and he became unpredictable in terms of when I was allowed out at night with friends. The other thing that happened was although I never rebelled or argued with my parents or friends, I increasingly became aware that my views weren’t in line with the “accepted norm” at that time. This has made it difficult for me to keep in contact with my old high school friends since moving to the UK. Corrina is about the only one I do keep in contact with, and it is strange that no matter how long we lose contact for, whenever we meet up again or get in contact, it’s like there has been no gap.

Before anyone asks, I've dealt with past issues and all that has happened - the above is only the tip. It has contributed to who I am today – chips and all - but I have come to terms with the whys and wherefores, and forgiven where necessary. So there are no grudges or feelings of hurt. I do look back fondly and there are times when I wish I could go back to the innocence...

Sunday clears away the rust of the whole week.
Joseph Addison

Just settled myself in front of the TV to watch the rugby (New Zealand is about to slaughter Scotland) and started thinking about what makes the "perfect sunday".
For me, it's a real mix of a day. I always feel more relaxed - guess that's because Saturday is my day of chores. But it also marks the end of the weekend which I hate. I'm definately one of those people who live for their weekends. Sad, I know.
My perfect sunday would would start off lazily (knowing all chores had been completed the previous day). I enjoy snuggling up, chatting, savouring the first cup of tea of the day, getting intimate; and then when I can't put it off any longer, getting up.
It is then nice to get out the house, be it for a drive, a walk, and before returning home, getting the sunday papers. Then spending the afernoon reading with the papers spread out on the floor. What would make the scene perfect would be a roaring fire and pesky cats getting in the way!
The evening should be spent curled up on the sofa, preferably cuddled up to someone special.
So, far food hasn't been mentioned. I do enjoy my food but I'm not a big breakfast fan, I'd far rather have a full on roast dinner as a late lunch. Nothing beats a good o'l fashioned sunday roast with the trimmings. That's why sunday afternoons are created - for recovering!
What's your perfect sunday?

I have just spent the early part of this evening, lying on a table with a tube up my arse! Put there by a young (well, younger than me) blonde female from Bulgeria. And while I was lying there, wondered how the hell I let myself get talked into this situation by a so called good friend. We're not even talking here of a "2 for the price of 1 offer" either.

It was with promises of "you'll feel amazing afterward"; "you'll be light and buzzing"; "it'll be great"; "you'll be thanking me for months afterward" that I eventually got talked into having colonic hydrotherapy (no longer called colonic irrigation). My friend, I admit, is slim, always full of energy and swears by having your insides regularly flushed out. Well....tonight was my night of being flushed.

I've come away admiring anyone who chooses to train to be able to conduct colonics. The woman conducting the "procedure" gave me a running commentary on what was happening (I eat a lot of salad and don't chew my food properly) and seemed pleased by what she saw. It was my own insides and I was not the least bit interested. The thought of watching someone elses "toxic waste" float along a tube - not me!! Nearly had a fit of the giggles, which could have ended up disasterously, when I was told that I was "expelling very well".

Anyway, here I am, at home, writing this in bed. Do I feel amazing, light, buzzing, great? Not quite. I feel tired, drained (HA!) and yes, I do feel lighter but then that's not surprising. I think my friend can keep her colonics and I'll stick to mother nature. I'll leave you however with one thought..... anyone who has a colonic will be a cheap date....it wont take many drinks to get them pissed.

This may seem to be a strange blog - about a tree! But, I never promised logic or any "sense" to my blogs!!

Ever since I first came across the tree back in March 2007, I've been meaning to take a photograph and eventually today I got round to taking it's portrait.
I walk past this tree every day to and from work, and no matter how grumpy, sulky, yucky I feel, it makes me feel brighter. It's planted in the Victoria Embankment Gardens by the Thames which is one of the many islands of greenery and peace within London.
The first time I saw the tree, I fell in love (if you can ever fall in love with a tree!!). I love the fact that it is old and gnarled; and I love the fact that the authorities have chosen to assist it by putting up supports so that it doesn't fall down. Now, I'm no tree hugger before you ask, but seeing it really does make me smile both on the inside and out. There is no plague next to it to indicate that it's special in any way and there are lots of other old trees in the park. But it does have "something". This evening whilst walking past it, there were a number of people sitting under it and a pair of giggling Japanese girls taking pictures of themselves whilst sitting on one of it's branches. Another time I noticed someone had left a flower in one of it's hollows. So, I don't seem to be the only one it has affected.

M.

Yes, I admit it.... I've been glued to the telly watching the rugby world cup. It's almost expected considering I was born and brought up in South Africa. If anyone knows anything about rugby, then you know us southern hemisphere lot take our rugby rather seriously!

I've always had a love/hate relationship with the country of my birth - for a whole load of reasons, some more obvious than others. When asked if I'd ever go back, the answer is very definately NO. My biggest fear whilst growing up was "where will I live?". For as long as I can remember (& I do have a very good memory of my childhood days) I never felt at "home" or that I belonged. As I grew up, I realised my Father was actually British, so at some point, decided it would be to the UK I'd head. Decision was made before I had even set foot on these shores and I never actually remember having a discussion about it with my family. It was just accepted.

Whilst growing up, I hated anything "South African" and when it came to sport, wouldn't support the national side. Now due to the sporting boycott at the time, that wasn't that hard! But when the few rebel tours started to happen, I was one of those who were cheering for the opposition. So, putting my support behind England wasn't that difficult. Ha! That is... unless you are talking about the English rugby side! Just can't do it. Can't support the buggers. It's not that I particularly support South Africa either (although was proud of them on Sunday when they played against Samoa) but it is very much anyone BUT England.

It's almost as if for all that I've "rebelled" against by being a South African, the one thing that managed to ingrain itself into my psyche is a dislike for the England rugby side. Now, having said all this, I'm now paranoid that I've jinxed everyone who plays against England from this point forward and that England will retain the cup! Aaargh!!!!! Please no!!!

I'm not sure I can bring myself to watch the South Africa vs England game on Friday. I'd prefer to take the coward way out and watch only if I knew what the score was. So, to anyone who doesn't want England to win and they do... sorry.... it's my fault for the jinx!

M

Mentioned briefly in my first blog that the last few years or so have been a voyage of self discovery. Unearthing (& believe me at times it has felt like that!) who I am and learning to accept my quirks and contradictions. I've also recently learnt more about friends, things I wouldn't have guessed when I first met them. And, that's been great! Have you ever people watched and wondered who they were and what they got up to behind closed doors? Well I find people watching absolutely fascinating and it is with renewed interest that I now watch my fellow commuters on our daily 45 minute train journey to and from London.

I no longer think about what they might get up to (although that bit is still fun ) but whether they are being true to themselves. How many are still trying to live up to the expectations of their parents, partners, etc.? How many are suppressing their wants and desires? I realise the answers aren't simple, and I don't wish to take this argument to it's extreme - I'll only probably end up going round in circles and contradicting myself! But generally speaking, I do think it is sad that for whatever reasons we feel we can't be who we are. And in some cases, forget. Or, have difficulty accepting who we are because of pressures from society, family, etc.

This pressure must contribute to why more and more people feel "screwed up" and alienated. Which I think is ironic as we're supposed to be living in a more enlightened age! I suffer from depression and I know there is a genetic link (grandfather committed suicide; there is still questions around my own fathers death - accident/deliberate). Even though for as long as I can remember I have had my moments, I've always managed to cope with the bad and crawl my way out without the use of medication. That was until approx. 7 years ago when the bouts became harder and harder to cope with and eventually in 2002 I sought my doctors help. I was on medication on and off for the next 3 or so years and its only been in the last year that I feel back to being able to cope again without the use of medication. Looking back, that period coincided with a time when I very much pushed "me" aside in a big way. Partly to fit in with my partner at the time's wishes and expectations, but also with what I thought I "ought" to be. I was trying to be someone I fundementally was not.

Now, I accept that I don't want to be a high flying city woman. I'm not ambitious nor do I want to climb the corporate ladder. I don't enjoy long distance sailing. I accept my chances of a being a mother have passed me by. I do suffer from depression and always will. I can be social when I want to be, but will never feel comfortable being the centre of attention. People aren't very good at mind reading, and therefore if I want something or don't like something, I now say rather than sulk. I hate living in built up environments, but am doing something about it rather than just moaning. I enjoy sex and do have a "darker" side, but pleasure doesn't make me feel guilty anymore. Memories of bad past experiences are just that - memories - they should not have a hold on me now nor dictate how I live my life. I am a bag of contradictions - serious & grown up vs girlie & mischevious; adventurous vs cautious; predictable vs unpredictable; etc - so what?

I'm not there yet and am still on my journey of self discovery and acceptance. I've been suppressing me for more than half my lifetime, so know it'll probably take the rest of my lifetime to figure me out. But....hey... I'm enjoying the journey. I do however wish I could shake some of my fellow passengers and ask "what would you really, really like to be doing?" What about you?

I have been inspired to start blogging by reading a friend's amazing blog. It seems like a "good idea" and maybe I'll be better at this than keeping my old fashioned journal. Admit however to being nervous - on the one hand yes, I'd like to use this as an online diary (this is the 21st century after all) and therefore it'll contain my musings about life the universe and everything. BUT, ego raises it's ugly head and worries about whether anything I have to say will be of interest to anyone out there. How will ego cope if not!?! Guess there is only one way to find out....

Feel I have to say a little about myself as some way of an introduction. As my profile says, I'm 41 and people could probably accuse me of going through the usual "mid life crises". I'm not sure it is a crises as such, but the last 3 or 4 years have been one of confusion, of coming to terms with who I am and accepting that I'm made up of so many contradictions. Isn't it sad that sometimes it takes almost half a lifetime to feel comfortable enough to explore our true selves?

Anyone who knows me will say I'm a nice person. And, I am although it still sticks in my throat to admit that. Nice girls don't have all the fun you see. But beneath the surface can lurk a mischevious, naughty girl. Who has bouts of depression (although lately the downs aren't so bad) and still has trouble answering interview questions that ask "So, what are your strengths?"

I think that is sufficient for now so, welcome to my confuddled world and don't be surprised if I end up contradicting myself during my blogs. Nothing is straight forward in my world.