Process, Uncategorized

Rest

It’s been one hell of a journey and that was before I had even started this 12 month endeavor of rebirth. My take away moment – I ended up in Heathrow in the middle of a global pandemic through choice.

What the fuck can I tell you 2020 has been one crazy ride and lots of people haven’t made it. The good, the bad, the ugly and even the brilliant. Last I checked David Attenborough and The Queen are still alive. Not that that is much of a list when we call into play white privilige. Is anybody else still having converstaions about it other than people of colour. Like seriously? George Floyd did not make it and he wasn’t even sick. Guess what our society is. 

Maybe me most of all. I have bitten of way more than I can chew this year and I am still choking on what I have instigated. Somethings are more finished than others and in another year maybe I will be able to engage in a long period of self reflection. That isn’t now though. It’s reserved for these posts until then. Obvioulsy I can’t tell you everything. It’s a partical and a wave kind of thing. There is so much flowing to me and around me right now everyday is a selective channeling.

For this year alone, I have engaged in birth doula training, death doula training, celebrancy training, started a MRes in Human Geography and graduated as a Sangoma. I even got a new name Water Star (I’d been longing for one). A kaelidoscope of ideas are running through my being forming the rainbow bridge one step, one breath, one moment at a time. From zoom to whatapp my being is more full than it has ever has been as I expand ever more deeply into who I am. Ever more deeply into my purpose. I couldn’t be clearer it’s sytemic trauma, I’m a Trauma Doula and a Systemc Trauma Specialist. No they didn’t have a name for that in high school. In previous incarnations I might have been known as a witch or a cailleach. I probably prefer seer. I’m caught up on the meaning of all things. Though I now own a cauldron and that is a delightful thing to have.

I still dream of long nights in front of the fire and an empty head for reading books. Yet here I’m not in hiberation as I sit in the southern hemisphere. I long to be still and yet the world seems to be speeding every faster into a new age of magic and miracle. Where you get finished as the work gets done. If I was to untangle capitalism from within my being who might I be instead? I think that I have been here for quite sometime. I fell out of time a long time ago. I saw the world very differently from the edges and from within the void. I was voided for a long time. You’re expereince isn’t vald. If I put myself  at the center of my own life for a while how would it be? Uninterrupted writing by the fire I think, isn’t that a dream. I wrote a book once… I fell in love. We are all just these transitory moments colliding together in the human field.

I’m still sitting with it, wondering who I might be. Who I might have become. I’m exactly everything I am supposed to be and changing daily. Embarking on the work of a generation. The real work , the work I cannot deny or ignore. The place where all my resoning has taken me. It all leads to systemic trauma.

In the meantime I have to remember what I love, what heals me. The trees. The birds. The garden. For myself I must find time for that. I must rest within it. This sacred Earth our Water Star.

Drink &  Be Merry. They’ll be more holdays next year and the world spins.

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Process, Uncategorized

Rest Is Resistance

I wrote a whole article and WordPress just deleted it. Such is my dance with the digital, often these days. Is this where the next levels of control emerge from the hive mind of human AI. Before all that popped into my head I was saying how Rest is Resistance is the rallying call of The Nap Ministry. Who restfully challenge the system by opposing burn out culture. Sleep is essential to our survivial as a species, far more than water actually. You better get yourself some. Even sleep hygene is hard to manage in our industrialised environment, where light and sound pollution invade the private sacred space of sleep.

If resting gives us back our power and wonder how stillness and even contemplation fair in the equation? As I this year have scrabbled to find both rest and balance. All as it is made clear to me that my content creation works as a form of internalised capitalism. Which leads me to the question should you be paying for this? Is that where I am at. Today I got 2000 views on my website. it’s only taken four years. Four full ones and as I come to terms with that I wonder what is really stopping me from pushing myself further. They key answer is rest. Long persist and continuous rest. That maybe I need to lie fallow for a while. That the means of production even on things I love is acting as a strange corriosive force in my life as I try to eeek out the things that really support me. Maybe if I could rest more I could find a better way forward. The truth is the system is exhausting. Being ethical is exhausting. Caring is exhausting.

As we all become more trauma-informed it clear that as we move into the Aquarian age that more feeling is required. That feeloing is require to heal and that we all need more time and space to do that. Everything depends on it. My slogan is time for change. That the long expanses of empty space is where the magic happens. That we need time to heal. Not just ourselves, everything round us. As we find out the meanign of true right relationship. Where am I in relation to that? Now that is a question of spaciality and even the mutlidimensional.

Only today I was having a conversation abotu neglect that has perturbed me. When really the neglect we feel in raltion with others in the neglect that we have for ourselves. Is there rest in movement I wonder more deeply? 2020 has been a clanger of a year. For me better than 2019 if you can even imagine that. Where living more fuller as been a case of livning in far deeper presence with myself. Finding my fear. It is there and sometimes I don’t know where to sit with it.

What I do know and that I openly admit here is that I spend more time looking a online tarot card reading to find my center than anything else. Can some one else plug me into the messages of the divine while I am denying myself. We can heal all out once. We can’t feel all at once either. We can always take time to heal though. Even though our system tells us otherwise.

Rest into yourself. Imagine the Earth as a warm wet blanket. It’s time to douse yourself with love.

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Process, Uncategorized

Water

My journey with water this year feels immense. Like I retuned to it through a subconscious loop whole. It’s hardly surprising that it became part of a new name, Water Star. Or more correctly Gogo Water Star which means Grandmother Water Star. I haven’t put it like that before and now it feels to me that that is quite a name. Gogo Water Star is my Sangoma name and it came to me as you might imagine through an exposing of the unconscious mind.

As I’ve been talking about it previous posts the Earth is water and if we look at the planet from a disatance as we see it as a Pale Blue Dot. Yet we do not call our planet Water and what colour is earth anyway? As the vison of my new name came to me so did the vision of our blue planet. I have seen it many times in meditation as a I float off planet for a few moments. This time never from so far away, as to fully appreciate it, not a my global home in this embodiment but as our global signifier to any other life forms out there. That we might be able to understand Gaia from the outside rather then from our ‘Earthly’ experience. The land doesn’t define us. The water does as it dictates the edges of our knowldege rather than the depth of it. It represents the humans unknown landscape, the water. What can be know there in something as changelable as water. If we are to truly embrace it? What might you learn about elemental force of water if you were to really speak to it. What would you learn if you were to ask it questions? All life comes from water.

There’s been a lot writeen about water in recent years many people have been talking about Maseur Emoto’s Water Science. Some buying it hook line and sinker and others decrying it as pseudoscinece. In case you hadn’t noticed yet 2020 has been the year of alternative realities. Where I have posed the question a few times now. In a post truth word are we allowed to question somebody elses reality? There is good science, bad science and funded science. It’s almost impossible to find science that doesn’t hold an agenda. Even accidental discoveries tend to emerge from a line of scientific enquiry. Scientific enquiry usually develops through asking questions.

So my conversation with water or more specifically with the lack of water has been an interesting one. If all thingsa are connected surely water is the connecting force. The energy source that guides us all. After all aren’t we 85% water. Many many years ago it was pointed out to me that the Moon had the power to move the ocean and with this power what impact might it have on the human body. Water holds the consciousness of all things on this planet. In holds the memory of what was, what is and what is yet to be. My understanding of water has changed radically. Water holds the bodies of our anscestors, the histories of our places, the knowledge of other times. It has been our constant companion liquid, gas and solid. It changes form too.

For five years I drank almost exclusively Table Mountain spring water from a fresh local source. Now I wonder if my trouble with water isn’t a frequency one? When I think of all of Edinburgh’s dense energies and the consciousness that brought chlorine into the water system. How much liquid poison would you like to cosume in this life time? What kind of world do we live in that they composite part of our being that we are made to consume is toxic?

If humans were robots surely we must me working on manual overide at this point. That there is no way that a well functioning human organism knowingly poisons themselves as an act of survival.

It seems to me we need a lot more Gaia force in our lives.

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Uncategorized

Water & Wine

It’s Christmas time! It’s been the most extraordinary year. Way beyond what I imagine for myself or for mutliple others. The world has change and we have change with it. At the beginning of this year I wanted to write again about water. How important it is to my daily routine. How it makes almost everything better from waking in the morning to brain function. How for years I have relied on it as a pick me up. It’s better than sugar, or coffee, there are no side effects and well it’s just great.

This year however for me it has been a personal water tragedy. That is probably reflective of a global one. My water habits have disappeared. All year I have been literally struggling to find and drink water.  Of course for the most part this year water has flowed steadily through the household taps, unlike previous years. Of course I’m very luck to have access to such a resource. However when it came to finding a clean live water source in the city of Edniburgh I was rather surprised to find that there was none. That chlorinated water was making me sick and my body simply wouldn’t take it anymore. I got a bad stomach, with ongoing stomach cramps. It would appear I had been to good to my body for to long to be able to return to chlorinated water.

What happened next – I stopped drinking water almost completely as I couldn’t bear the idea of having to continually buy bottled water in order to feed my water habit. Like seriously, having a water habit is a bad thing for the planet, if you insist on drinking clean live water. Also the transfer from hot warm climate to a cold damp one didn’t help much either. With an interest in Systemic Trauma it got me thinking about land resources in far more specific ways. How many of us were clear about our need for water soveriegnty. How many of us were aware of how poor quality our drinking water actually is. Over the years I have met plenty of people who either purify the water that comes into the house. It’s very rare indeed in the UK to find someone who is able to to source and find local live water. It got me thinking how far does anyone of us live from a clean drinkable water source? I haven’t answered that question yet and maybe there is a lot more research and work to go into this too (if I ever get round to it). That rectifying this essential to human survival. How long has it been now since we were able to have drinkable streams?

So the long and short of it; in order to fix my stomach problems I started drinking wine to regulate my gut biome. Fermentation isn’t just about pickles. There I was at the center of my own ecological disaster buying imported wine or drinking water from plastic bottles. I still don’t kjow which is more ahrmful to the environment, (which includes my body) Sometimes I wish I had the skills to pull together my own mini research studies so that I actually knew the answer. In fact when I die I really would like there to be a cause and effect programme for the environment, where I get to understand how the hours of my life I spent pondering the equally awful environmental choices I had to make were actually worked out.

Anyways I watched the equally disturbing Planet Of The Humans last night just I was getting to grips with the Anthroposcene.

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Process, Uncategorized

Diaspora

I’m note sure if this word belongs and ironically that seems to be the essense of it’s very meaning. I dive into it wondering if I will inadevertantly find myself in a refugee camp somewhere. It certainly feels like I have lived that at certain times of my life. You can check that out in my singualrly depressing upcoming book Down and Out In Penryn & Falmouth. Where some of us didn’t thrive to tell the tale.

As  species we’ve been on the move for a while now around two million years. So it’s hard to figure out what diaspora means in real terms. That people move. That can’t come as a surprise to many of us and yet parochial mindsets seem to prevail. This paraochial approach often gets me thinking about hobbiton and the shire. Where the centrel beings of teh story are barely know to anybody else. What a way to live life as a community totally centered in self. A community that believe that Tree Shepards are mythical creatures and magic only arrives with the combustable consumables of wizards and in fact that wizards are something to be toyed with.

We riducle and mock what we don’t know most of the time and the word diaspora seems to sum that up a lot. Diaspora is an othering of self in the land that you stay in. It’s saying I am not from here and somehow that seems integral to it’s basis. What if you just assimilated on arrival. Isn’t that what the USA used to offer new life, new identity. “What me, I’m an Amercian”. People give themselves the name of a lesser known explorer than intigrate the the complication of dual identities. Of course forced diaspora is ahwole othr sotry whether through human disaster or natural one. We are all scatterings of Africa and yet how far will we go to deny our origins out place in the world as one massive global family. One species, one kind. Diaspora seems to hold the toxic roots of seperation. That if you leave wyou must be seperate that if tyou arrive you must be different.  In a year that has be defined by it’s lack of movement it’s clear that progress has had to be made in other ways. I turn to the USA again to consider Black Lives Matter and the failing global respose to take on the mutually inherited roles of slavery. Of the dispossed and the possesion. The ownership of other humans and how their labour, the labour of slave built the nations that ignore them. What does it mean to be stolen from somewhere else, never return and never belong. To be ignored triggered and experience such visceral daily denial and rejection. Have you seen the Christmas adverts? Where we are going we can’t return, both in the physical and the metaphysical. Why can’t we talk about reparations? Today I heard and astouding figure realting to the Lockerbie Bombing.  That they payed out to all the relatives of the victims was in 2.16 billion US dollars. I can’t even imagine the figure that would be necessary to sort out the cost of slave reparations and the impact it has had on family descendents.

It’s not the same of course not but let me tell you it was the first post industrial landsacpe in the world. Now that will get all you human geographers very excited. Healing those Cornsih Mining villages may well bethe key to plantary evolution.

I am the diaspora.

Process, Uncategorized

All The Displaced People of The World

It’s a fucked up thing to live in exile. Jesus was born in exile. To be lost to your people and to yourself. Exile plagues me as a concept. The journey’s of no return. The no going back and the flickering tragectory, longing for hope that might see you reconcile yourself with the lived experience. In the upcoming weeks before Christmas I often come out talking abut Jesus as a refugee. That nothing much has changed in 2000 years and that the systems need for societal control is still figuring out the human species true nature. That we as a species are set for evolution and change. That it is in our nature to move. Of course Herod’s neuroplasticiy has a lot to answer to. The exile of Jesus is a human story. A human message that we have been living with everyday. That traverses imagined borders and defies the linear construction of logic with the love, passion and curiosity of the human life experience. As we all attempt to return to ourselves and detach from our geographies. Detach from the living Earth between us? As if we coud detach from the water within us. Our very bodies filled with the hope and dreams of our ancestors. We made another one.

What is it to live in exile? It’s an endless pondry it seems of what awaits you. Its the unfinished business of this lifetime. It’s anticipated histories and lived futures on both fronts. It feels torment to be split in two living twin lives in parallell directions and sometimes in a multiplicity of locations across space and time. Where people become portals to our living memory, or not. Then there is the moment of the release of any other path. The Way, The Truth, The Life. It’s a calling, not a choice and we must be of service of the path we tred. It’s the journey, the process, the living.

Maybe I’m being romantic to believe that there might me a life beyond the survivalism of displacesment. A life beyond terror. That to have freedom of mind, movement and expression. So trival are the riches so many of us are yet to experience, dependent on where we are located. We mistake ‘Western’ values for human ones and wonder why people don’t think the way we do? That progress isn’t built in to the psyche in the same way. When if we wait long enough life will come to you. People have been banging on about sustainability for a while now. Then five years ago we started talking about resillience. For me they are words that have weighed heavy in collective consciousness for a while. Women have stopped talking about strong, seeing it for what it really is; a homage to the toxic masculinity of patriarchy that no longer serves us. Instead we talk abour resillience with the deep acceptance of the onslaught of the system and the dynamic that it is creating in our everyday lives. The dynamic it is creating in our own bodies. That it isn’t enough just to exist sustainably. It is that we have to fight for the right to. That we seem to be in a slow corrosive war for the land rights that accompany any depth of humanity. We have to have the resillence to sustain ourselves. It’s another superdosing  of  resitance propaganda. Fighting for the right to exist. Fighting for the right to consume green plants. Our legal geographies in particular seem to beset us with endless forms of anti-human activity . Where control is there to undermine the living.

Every so often people l to me about entities. Lately I’ve been reading up on Greek Mythology and getting to grips with Pandora’s box. I wonder what poseses someone to want to control others? Of course it is fear. The fear of our own vulnerable humaness. As I wrote in my last post about boundary walls and who we might be indebted to when we have them? I wonder what it says about our nation states and the war games we play. Just as the UK ofically pull up the draw bridge from Europe. I wonder who might be the last ones across the dividing line. In or out? Get on or get off? How the once arbitary event of visting a loved one might define your future histories at an extraordinary moment in time. We talk about the last arrivals or the last departures. We won’t know until the threshold of empire has been passed. How will the Falkland Islands and Gibraltar remember us. What’s Jersey been up to? Will the Isle of Mann end up in Ireland? Will Scotland find the way home? I wonder how long people were devasted by the destruction of Rome? I wonder who will write the history ‘Empire in Retreat’. I wonder how much of our island will end up underwater behind those big imaginary walls. Has the emperor got new clothes on? The story seems like a grand narrative of master players as if Napolean Bonaparte could speak again and Elizabeth the 1st was still the Queen of England. A lot of people still get confused about that. Anyways there are big archetypal personalties at play. There is still time to get popcorn before the end of the show. The thing is though, that coltan. That colonialist history. That entitlement.  Does anybody still have nightmares about Daenerys Stormborn and Nicolae Ceauseacu?

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Process, Uncategorized

Decolonising

Reprogramme your brain. Time is not linear. Fuck the Queens Enlgish it’s time to reclaim the exiled children of empire.

I realise I have been lazy. What exactly was a I writing about in my last post and was it white centering? Of course it was I’m a white woman pointing fingers, exploding her brain onto social platforms. Asking bigger question than I can articulate without addressing some of the key issues of being a colonialist? For fuck sake and I feel I have the right to dish out advice like sweeties. It’s mental out there. Or is it mental in here?

So lets go back a few weeks when I was writing about Environmental Activism and declaring that I was taking a trauma-informed approach to healing. Then I went on to explore my privilege at length. In wishy washy non-committal ways without coming straight out and saying I’m privileged. I have the right to winge about lostness and diaspora having actively chosen exile in my life. I know. I’m so up my own arse sometimes.

Now I am about to write about all my justifications for writing about decolonisation as a white person. As a Scottish person. Identity politics is a trick I realise. Fuck or is it? It seems based on separation consciousness, where you might never be white enough or black enough for that matter. Language, religion and class all become strange caveats into which we have to disect or direct our behaviour. Have you met any trustafarian or the squatacracy lately? They might actually have dipped out of fashion or as I premised many years ago, got to the age where coming of age seems to be necessary due to inheritance.

I’m interested in whiteness and what causes it. I mean maybe I should use a video of a Trump rally as an example. Then again though Trump’s actually orange (You see how complicated the race is?). I think the you’ve been tangoed nuance might not go down well here. The thing is Trump is traumatised you don’t get diagnosed by a collective of psychiatrists by your televise performance as president as Narcissitice Personality Disorder otherwise. How undignified for all involved. So yes trauma and psychopathy seem to be leading the world leaders.

What if it wasn’t so much about decolonisation as it was about de-traumatisation? That’s where I am at. A reconcillaratory experience for all. Even the trees and all other Earthlings. Of course black live matter. It obvious people of colour are not the source of systemic racism or systemic trauma. It’s time for whiteness to take a long hard look at itself.

Why do I have the right to write about decolonisation? What has it got to to do with me? I’m bored, enraged and momentarily apopletic at the global system and the fuckery of global decision makers. The systems problem is it fucking terrifies people, regularly. That is truama. The other kind the dull controlling montinoues encroaching systemic intrusion of the quacks delivering daily oppression we either avoid or ignore. Without much success, unless of course you’ve got power or money. Those two things actually make you a consumable. I bet you never see it that way. Marketing makes you consumptive. Hmm I need to a rethink a few things if that is the case.

What has 2020 been about if it hasn’t been about decolonising and rewilding? It’s about uncivilising our straight lined and grand structure that does nothing more than enslave us.

Process, Uncategorized

Are You A Colonialist?

Are you triggered yet? Hmmmm I’m wondering where I was when I wrote this title. I think I was in Edinburgh. I’m not sure why I thought it was such a good idea. Not many people are ready to openly admit it. Well not when they understand what the implications of the title colonialist really are. There are still people out there that believe civilising people is still a thing. We don’t mainly call it that anymore. However if you hear someone banging on about education, to me that’s code. In my own unique and very special way I am still a colonialist. How couldn’t I be. I am a white woman, living in South Africa experiencing extreme privilige every single day.

Education has always been a questionable subject for me. As I write this with all my privilege. After all I can read and write. Only in one language though, English, which is already and unfair advantage on a global scale. Despite this I have often wondered what do we ‘educate’ people for? It largely seems that we educate people so that why can have better economic opportunity and that also seems a little strange. When you are like me and working out your very own Earth mission. Aren’t we supposed to be happy where we are? Aren’t we suppose to accept people as they are? Yet for some reason we all go about pretending that we have answers, sometimes to problems that don’t exist.

These ideas of transformation have been plaguing me for years. In fact paralysing me for years as I’ve wondered what is the best thing to do? How do we help without hindering.? How do we help without changing what is? How do we help with out creating ever more problems down the line. Solutions seem to gather problems when we push them out on a global scale. Especially when we have a whole load of white saviours to deliver the message to people that don’t want it and can’t be heard screaming no.

You see even the mundane everyday solutions have massive global impact. Do you remember the advent of bottled water? Now we are to embarrassed to ask when we don’t carry our own water supply. I’m not drinking your bottled water thanks. How militant are you prepared to be? What happened to good old fashioned jugs? Do you remember all those people that made a fuss about bottled water? There are a lot smarter than we give them credit for. Active corrosion of our human rights delivered to us in an easily consumable capitalised package.

I’m back thinking about the coltan in my computer again. How fucked up the mining situation is in Congo as a result? How many child slaves are working on my behalf to create some beautiful connectivity devices? It got me thinking in the inverse. Why would we remove connectivity from Congo. You see when we take resources for forcible redistribution what are we really taking? Yesterday I watched a Ted Talk by and Aboriginal activist who wanted to know why 50,000 years of Aboriginal knowledge and history was deemed worthless by colonialist? I often wonder how much the Scottish Enlightenment had to do with fucking up the world as the worship of science eluded magic and the known in the unseen.

Even yesterday I was witness to the most incredible conversation about walls and boundaries that the bigger our walls the greater our debt. The things that we have taken from the collective without permission. It seemed to ring true and strike a tone that I am still feeling into. Maybe it isn’t just about the physical? Maybe it about the emotional too? What did you take with out giving. Certainly explains a lot about the process of holding on and letting go. Is there ever true flow or is always a process of osmosis working through one permeable wall at a time.

So yes I am a colonialist. Even it I’m simply colonising social media with content, your brain with ideas and my emotions to be productive. Maybe you thought that I might give you five easy ways to decolonise your life? Maybe you thought this might be about the plight of the unheard and the unseen? Given that most of them haven’t been heard for a while now. Let me hand you over the Kimberley Jones who can explain it much better.

Process, Uncategorized

Global Changemakers

 This is hilarious I was totally hoping to be creating my own reality when I started writing this blog post at the beginning of 2020. LOL only two things in the following paragraph is true. Which reminds me I need to write an article about Descendent Healing.

That makes me feel awesome. I’m still on holiday by the way. I’ve had a party in Cape Town and now I am in Lesotho getting some new downlaods, speaking and not saving Africa and very excited about The COP as well as UNESCO Cape Town City of Healing and the idea of Descendent Healing as well as getting my Masters. All very very exciting.

This is where my Global Changemaker post actually begins, now at the beginning of the end of 2020.

Fuck it’s ambitious and heady and incredibly niave. What a title Global Changemaker. I wonder if Bill Gates will ever feel the need to erase this particular blog post. I doubt he has time. This week I say a particularly beautiful piece of Street Art that read ‘Bill Gate’s loves you, take the vaccine.’ In a post-truth world is it really ok to question somebody else’s reality? At this point I think I have to say it’s a hefty no.

When it comes to the global I have no idea what I believe anymore. Are we being run by The Illuminati? The Cabal or even The Galactic Light Force. All things are possible. For the last ten years I have done my best not to get caught up in it. Except of course every so often I go on a political binge. Like my most recent on the US election; which was vastly toned down compared to previous years. That’s right Trump hasn’t conceded yet and we wonder why anybody cares? Any thing to get a little more air time before he vanishes into obscurity. When in fact he might be gathering the troops. I don’t think anybody should be underestimating him. Nor do I believe that opposing sides of the presidential vote should even begin to question anybodies reality. It feels fair to say it. Collective consensus has broken down. I totally get that. I wonder what it is that we can actually agree on in times of such seismic change.

So right now Global Changemaker seems like a very hefty weight to carry. Yet at the same time utterly necessary. What if we could all wave our magic wands and make everything better? As a friend from a meditation group pointed out ‘We can achieve more if we work together’. The biggest challenge right now is on what? The are so many issues. To many emergencies. So many crisis. We would be foolish to believe that any one of us has the right way or the primary right to decide. Yet we continually think we do. Me personally I’m working on trauma. Even though it has also been pointed out to me that I might be trauma bonded to trauma. What I can tell you is that I am not a nervous wreck. I’ve been feeling pretty calm and confident about it all, here at the center of the storm. After all I’d have to be considering I found myself in the middle of Heathrow entirely through choice at the center of a Global Pandemic. In what many have surrounding have described as an act of full surrender. Remember genius and madness run very close together and can actually be interwoven parallels. 2020 has been one of the busiest and yet stationary years of my life. Where Dharma seems to be finally catching up with me and I am so grateful. Grateful fro partial routines. Grateful for coffee. Grateful to wash the dishes and find balance in the mundane. Balance in the building blocks.

You see I am a changer maker.  I just don’t want to be a Global Changemaker, this sprouts from my idea of getting embedded (another article I need to write).  I want to work with them. So that we can make a more pluralistic view of the world. Even though every so often I think I know the only way. Sometimes it blows my mind when I think about what has been bugging me. What I really want is to support people to make the most powerful decisions they can for their own life. Of course I’m not perfect. It’s not what I am interested in, these days I’m not even sure that I am interested in something as simple as progress. Now that is a very strange idea.

2020 has been a real game-changer for many of us and I love to see my friends, colleagues and clients doing well. This below video is my good friend Kim Lovemore Wild talking about the Love More Movement and the challenges that 2020 has brought and the way she has navigated it.

Awakening to the Universal, our Uniqueness & Service – Kim Wild – TruthLover #35

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Process, Uncategorized

Glo Cal

This should officially be a thing by now after The Great Pause.

Think Global Act Local. Do you remember when this little nugget hit the scene? I knew it back then as well as anybody. Stop getting on flights. Stop trying to save people and start folding your underwear. Yup it was time back then to get deep down and dirty with the minutia. Even now after all these blog posts I still haven’t figured it out how to be me in a Glo Cal way. That’s what life on the road will bring you a huge of amount of clarity and single mindedness accompanied be a huge sense of confusion when it comes to Glo Cal. What if picking a place or a people is just not your thing? What do you do then?

Do we develop communities purely on the basis of consumption rather than contribution? I’m still figuring this out as I step into the acceptance that I am a law unto myself. How often in this life is there the perceived right thing to do and then there is what we actually do? How these things are so utterly different from one another? How the human souls plays it part? What specifically am I creating as my life seems to endless fall through space, time and people straight back to little old me? What is it about me that makes it so difficult to stay? What about me seems to feel like it’s in denial about reality? In the last few weeks I may have begun to accept that there is no Shangri La and I might have been spirtitualy bypassing myself for a very long time? That I always believe that it might be better somewhere else. That somewhere on Earth. Yes Earth not Water we might find a group of people collective living in harmony. As I dig into the bowels fo what it is to be human I see that there is no such thing. Maybe I’ve know that for a long time. Maybe I’ve understood it in moments too. Now I think I might have to finally accepted it. That there is no place better or worse, there is just here. You see I’m always wondering what staying might achieve and what leaving teaches? Why for me leaving is so important? Like it’s my last chance of soveriengty. I think I might have finally go tho a point where I am done arguing with people. Like done. If you are still consuming Proctor & Gamble products after all this time, good. Let me buy you all the Pringles and Sunny D you can eat and move on. If you get into a car and never stop to consider the impact that it is having on your immediate air quality who am I to tell you? If you don’t watch the news and put all your energy into making crochet bunny rabbit with no care for the global story why should I advise you other wise. You see  ‘intellectuals’ like our talking shops. We like to slowly ponder and evaluate every little detail of our mundane lives in never ending name of progress. It’s only now that we fully appreciate where progress has taken us. wWhen we are not satisfied with our lot. When the likes and dislikes aren’t counted and our ungratefulness takes us on a a downward spiral.

They say that change comes whether we like it or not. All I can say is that I am inclined to believe in that. I wonder sometimes how we can master fate. How ‘it wasn’t meant to be’ turns out to be a endless game of will and surrender. We all have free will apparently. Yet out tiny massive choices seem to suggest otherwise. That we are caught in the systemic. That the coltan in my computer is excusable at the behest of the system. I remember Dom working on extracting minerals electronics years ago. I wonder now how far he got? You see it’s not just about the break down of the system and even the planet. It really is a breakdown in society. Where the mission becomes greater than interpersonal relationships and fulfilment. About who’s needs do we serve first?

Earlier this year I wrote about being a changemaker. Where I was with that. How that personal archetype had emerged from trauma. Now I realise the need for change is as much to do with trauma as anything else. It’s a non-accpetance of what is. I wonder how that works sometimes.

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