The Other Side

The Other Side of Inertia - The Big Sheila begins

2011-12-29T02:52:00.000-08:00

It’s that time again, the time when the momentum of the year has brought us to a place of inertia – do you hit 2012 with the same pace, do you move forward, faster harder, with a force that changes your current trajectory, or do you stand still in your grace?

I’ve chosen not to continue as I was, rather to break through my trajectory from last year and put myself back on course of what my hearts desire really was. In fact, I’ve made those popular new years resolutions way before the nigh of December. You could say I’ve been cheeky getting in early like the Christmas decorations that start in October!

I’ve chosen to pursue my life long dream to start my own food business. I am The Big Sheila and I’ve started a company in this name! It will be my kitchen on line, creating, sharing, gathering and capturing all there is to our food experiences. YOUR experience with me in your fridge will open in the first quarter of 2012, when I’m launching a local kitchen in Singapore and a Global kitchen for all our of foodie friends around the world. The website is only in construction at the moment, but here is your link: www.thebigsheila.com

I’ve had many years where I’ve had so many lists of what I want to do, the ideals of what I wanted, the standards that I will up hold, the books I will read, lots of wonderful hopes but this year is different. This year has become more real than those before.

I resigned from my big job in September, gallant in my intentions to the right thing by my CEO and what the business needed. I resigned so the business could hire more resource, cheaper than I to accelerate growth. With no job to go to, knowing I was a talented woman and confidant I was very employable, I took a bold step forward. Yes, I had potential job offers coming in, especially so I could tell my mother I was going to be ok, but I wasn’t saying yes to anything. I needed some time to put my feet on the ground. Consciously I knew I was doing the right thing. Looking back now, I realize what I’d done was subconsciously create a new space for me to step into.

I’d given myself room to breath and put my feet firmly on the ground in order crystalize what I needed and what I truly wanted from my life. I turned 38 in this process and it was the most motivating birthday I’ve ever had. Yes, single, no marriage, no children but with a truck load of energy and dreams that I realized was only with me to make a reality. I suddenly thought, “holy cow, I’m going to be 40 in two years and I never wanted to say what if!”. There I was, just me, who I am as an individual, driven only by the passion of what I wanted to be, but never had the courage to before.

I escaped to Thailand after I resigned to a peaceful health retreat in Koh Samui called Kamalaya. It was a two-week put my feet on the ground and find my balance exercise. I took with me a bright red A4 book to write in. In the front pages I wrote words that opened my mind and may seem fluffy to some, but made complete sense to me. For in my business world I’ve learned to always make a statement of intention, to articulate the end state, what is the end result and how are you going to get there? So this is what I wrote ….

October 2011 - The transformation - Always be in your truth

· To live my dreams
· To turn my dreams to goals
· To turn my goals into successes
· To see my success in abundance
· I am awake and checked into my life
· The creation of love, balance and prosperity is all around me.

Then on the next page I wrote –

I am The Big Sheila and this is my end game:

· To be published hard copy for both my writing and food
· On broadcast for my food
· Recognized as a food line for The Big Sheila
· Published for The Other Side
· Financially secure and independent from these business ventures
· It’s the 8^th November 2013, I’m 40 and my writing and food has given me financial independence and wealth.

Then I did a mind map with ME in the center – and branches around that were themes about my body, mind, love, friends, family and community. It was a busy page with lots of thoughts and words to cement and visualize my path, a holistic map of my life to help me keep balance and focus on what’s important to me with my entire world, not just being successful in business. Everything in your world on page, bright in front of you suddenly makes a big impact, let me tell you! Clarity.

I took loads of supplements, slept 10 hours a night, read four books, talked to some spiritual guru’s and spent time alone, only focused on finding my balance. I think I did this one successfully. I left Thailand knowing what I was going to do. I’m sure that this balance has helped me to ensure that my new trajectory is on course for next year. My axis are all aligned, as I shuttle through 12.01am, 1^st January I feel safe that my movement forward will be on course, solid, and only the trail blaze will be that of the burning off of the matter I need to leave behind in 2011.

And do you know what? Since I’ve decided to do this, I’ve had help for places I never dreamed of getting it from. I’m put it out there and said to the world, this is what I’m doing, and then like magic there are people, in droves, all there to hold my hand and lead me forward in fact! It’s truly inspiring, my floodgates have opened up entirely and I’m standing amazed at this point, utterly warm, totally confident in what I’m doing and a part of me there is wishing I’d only had the courage to do this sooner.

The other side of Inertia

You may feel that will fuller belly’s, muffin tops and less vitality that we once had because of all that has consumed us in this year has slowed you down, name your poison or reason, therefore no need to change, just let the year tick over. Stay solid in your current state, don’t move and don’t take action! This means you are happy with everything that you have. BUT, if you complain, you are a victim and you enjoy it. So you decide.

Or you may be the feeling heavy, but you know that staying as you are is not an option, but how the hell do you transform your list to reality? Because you know you’ve done it before, make a list that is - and magically at 12.01, with a clink of a glass, a snog and a mass of hugs that you’re reinvigorated, for a moment you feel all new again and come March, it’s out the window! Your inertia is still moving through the barrier, but your axis is off kilter, so you don’t move forward in the trajectory that you wished.

Stop and have a good hard look at yourself. You know what you’re doing, you know what is “the same old stuff”, trust your gut, stop ignoring it and get off your ass and know that some simple shifts might help your axis to be more aligned. I’ve said before, work out your patterns and look at the things you do over and over again – there is a reason you do them. Open your eyes a little to yourself and hey, wear sunglasses if the hard truth is a bit glary.

Or you may be one of those lucky ones that love your grace and the ticking over of time just means another blissful day in the world of who you are. Up and downs are normal and you’re ok with that. So here’s to another beautiful year of whatever life brings you. I wish more of the same.

Resolutions or not, grace or unbalance – how many of us are truly living the life we wanted for ourselves? Dreams are can seem impossible to make a reality, granted - of course choices are made that contributes to paths that we take. But you know in your list, say you'll have open eyes as this year turns to 2012 - you all have choices. And that is the simplicity of your truth.

If I can be straight to the point, like I did, get in touch with what your passion is and what you’ve always wanted but didn’t know how to. Then ask for help to make it happen. People are there like you never known when you’re passionate about what you believe in, let me give the mail! This world is actually full of people that want to help others be successful and I’ve only just tapped into this source, but it’s there. It’s incredible, I’m open to it now, so it’s my wave to ride I tell you!

In my momentum of this closing year I want to share and capture my appreciation for those loved ones that have held my hand this far and reminded me of who I am and that Leopards don’t change their spots, they just get bigger! Meaning, my passion for this dream hasn’t changed, it’s just got bigger. I’ve asked for help and no Christmas tree could compare to the gifts of support I’ve received from these people who are all firmly holding my hand through this journey. It’s overwhelming. No wonder my 2012 trajectory seems so certain right now!

My message to you is simple. Make your list, but remember, have courage, find your balance, get off your ass, ask for help, talk to people and always believe in yourself. Oh, and wake up, those dreams you have are here and now…. if you wish to launch. Get ready for a new trajectory!

Happy New Year… and here’s to open skies and seeing our goals turn into successes!

Love love love,

TBS

XXX

www.thebigsheila.com

The Other Side of Paying it Forward

2011-11-09T08:42:00.000-08:00

I went back to Cambodia this year to build houses with the Tabitha Foundation, a charity that is set up to aid the communities in rural areas outside Phnom Penh. There were 37 of us this year and we built 24 shiny new green tin houses. Making it 56 houses in total over the last three years. We broke out into 5 teams, all with team leaders from the group of the year before to help the newbie’s and maintain what became known as “quality control”.

It’s a five day trip with many different elements to it - the first night we all meet at the famous Liquid Bar that is 50 meters away from hotel, a bar I wanted to rename “Fluid” because of my mental dyslexia. The first night is an orientation of sorts. Meet and greet, many beers, all of the “why are you here and how did you hear about this” stories. In actual fact, 99% of the people that go are from BT, because over the last three years the original clan were from BT and have done such a great job of spreading the word. It was so impressive, there were people from Hong Kong, Australia, England, Scotland and Wales, and Singapore. A mixed group of not many ties, but come the fifth day, there would a group of new friends that would be sad to say goodbye to each other.

The first night is a group bonding night. It’s warming and cute to see the eager new people talking it up about how fast they were going to build their green Mansions, making claim to be the first finished and wanting to be the winners, many-a-adult “Bob the Builders” knocking back beers! I smiled like a mother would knowing we had some tough days ahead, but would learn only in their own time.

Day two is for the new of the group to understand the history of Cambodia. It’s an orientation at Tabitha where they hear about the graphic history of what the Cambodian people endured through the reign of Pol Pot. Then a surreal trip to both S21 the torture chambers and the Killing Fields, each to have a lasting impression on these fresh minds. I wrote about this last year. (http://thebigsheila.blogspot.com/2010/11/other-side-of-killing-fields.html)
(http://thebigsheila.blogspot.com/2010/11/other-side-of-cambodia.html )

For old recruits that found that to be confronting and enough education in year one, chose to get involved in local life in a different way - Nigella style! We went to the food market and a cooking school to learn how they created dishes that we would enjoy on many a menu whilst there.

Some of us wished we had this market in our own cities. It was magic. Bright colours, the greenest lush vegetables, fish flapping madly straight out of their morning bath. Tight packed lanes of produce, lined with the beautiful characters of the market woman whilst their men worked all day to bring these sumptuous local morsels to sell for what would be a single bus fair to us, each day. There were no used by dates here, nor conventional electronics like such things a refrigerator. Maybe we found it all a bit romantic, but it was spectacular.

Day three, after another night of our group bonding for drinks to share our days experience, getting to know each other better, the mood was a little bit more somber; the reality and education process had set in. At the crack of dawn we set off in the bus heading towards the community where our first lot of houses would be built. All in gloves, some with kneepads or pillows to kneel on, new and old hammers, wall and floor nails in our pockets and tool belts to boot. Go Bob the Builder!!

It was extremely hot that day well into the mid 30’s. Girls are on the floors, hammering hundreds of nails into bent and twisted bamboo and our thumbs just as much. The men were up 12-foot ladders brave and sure-footed reaching high enough to ensure the sharp edged sometimes lethal green tin was steadfast. We all sweated buckets, there was nothing beautiful about us, most of us looking like we’d been dragged through a bush backwards by lunchtime.

As team leaders, it was our duty to do quality control, with a gentle nudge from another leader, I picked my sorry ass off the floor, my back seized locked up almost from being bent over in the same position for hours, to check all was in upright, tight, flush and firm. One of my team was a tall, strapping strong good looking lad, broad shoulders and full of gusto about being Bob on the first night, and as I turned the corner to ask how he was up that ladder, his face turned to me and told me the answer. I felt like that mother again, seeing that look that I knew, I’d seen it the year seen – a face that shows you what that pain feels like, the surprise of it even, but showing the determination he felt to push through.

It's hard, hard work. Physically so exhausting, but mentally you don’t want to give up or look like you’re fledging because these families are with you, they are there - right beside you, trying to help hammer nails, or tact those killer tin sheets in so you can hit that final satisfying whack of the nail. Then as we high five each other, to say “way hay, we’ve done it that one's done", they’ve moved in and the house warming had begun! And guess what, we’ve still got three more houses to go….

My Bob the Builders were excellent. They hammered with a special beat to keep themselves going, they held each others ladders and swapped every time their hands would cramp to a point that they couldn’t actually release the hammer or the claw that their hand had become. And the ladies we relentless, hammering like no tomorrow every once in a while stopping, biting their lips because they wanted to scream "F-ME -ARGHHHHH". After some hours and a combination of my thumb being flat and probably the loudest yelper, I told them to just let it out, the locals really didn't know what the F bomb meant!

Some of the guys had cramps going all the way up their arms, but thank god for their inner strength because they never complained, when some-one yelled “that needs another nail up there”, there they were, up the ladder, shouting at their buddies to hold the strut on the other side so they could hammer the nail straight. We built 16 houses on that first day. So proud.

We all struggled; there is no shame in that, although we were all there with gallant intentions, it is impossible not to deplete our banks of raw energy doing what we were doing in that heat and condition. Commendable though is the mental determination to continue on by every single person in our group, no matter what. We just needed water every 30 minutes and someone to please feed us some sugar!

On day four, we went out again to finish the job. There was a real momentum amongst us now; we could all feel it, comradery at its best. My team had an especially difficult shaped house, backed against some massive Cambodian Urns that meant we couldn’t get our ladders to the right places, so we fell behind. Every one had finished by now, and we had the last house to do, so I approached the groups having a well-earned rest and drink to ask for some strong men please come and help us finish this last final house. Within moments there were 16 people gathered, nailing floors, hoisting up green tin, helping each other to hold the struts, even the Cambodian men were helping me get the nails in the first time to the tricky bent bamboo, maybe they took pity or worried about me wasting nails because I kept flinging them left right and center as my aim was so rubbish by this point. Kids were scurrying below the house where I sat as every nail flew like tennis kids fetching the balls on a finals match! It was real team work and very inspiring I tell you!

Next to our final last house stood an old, dark dirty brown aged shack. Quite a contrast to our architecture. An old man watched with his few dogs in toe, an old duck shedding her feathers with her babies cheeping and bouncing close by, not in cheer like you would hear them by some angelic pond, but in pain, for they would not last the week. Then as I hammered, I actually noticed the wise old man. He struck such a chord and interest with me being the first elderly man I’d seen in Cambodia, considering the travesty of murders that had taken place with his generation. Who knows what age he could have been, but purely by his presence he earned my respect and title of being wise to me as he represented a survivor.

He sat observing us, expressionless on his perch, watching our group’s effort come to life. He didn’t move he sat stagnant for the 2 hours while we worked on his abode, staring at us. Stoic. Then, when more men turned up to finish the difficult bits, he rose, moving slowly, leaning on his cane for strength towards his green tower - curious or was he checking up, I wondered? I stopped working for a moment to enjoy my knowing smile - he was now doing quality control, there was no doubt about it! He was checking out original leader, Doug’s work. It made me gleam with a lovely sense of appreciation. To be fair, Doug was limping with a knee brace up a 12-foot ladder; it was fitting of our wise man's stature.

When the team had finish and headed back to the base I stayed, I didn’t’ want to leave at this point. I turned to him and raised my hands together in the pray formation to offer my blessing to him and his family. His body didn’t respond immediately but he connected with my eyes - and after some great pause, I put one hand on my heart and raised the other to point at the house, cocked my head towards him and giving him a look like a child wanting her elder’s acceptance. Finally, he rewarded me with a wide open gummy, wrinkled, beaming smile of gratitude and cocked his head to mirror mine. I wanted to run and hug him but it would have been like disrespecting the Brigadier, so I did nothing but returned the gaze, my smile gripping my ears, heart racing, eyes warmed with tears, but desperately trying not to let them flow so not to embarrass my dear man. That was something, a very warm and fuzzy moment taking away every weight of my exhaustion into thin air. What an honour!

The Other Side of Paying it forward

We all have tough lives, at some point we’ve all faced tremendous challenges, whether from our jobs, our families, past history with lovers or misfortunes that threw our balance off course. Many of us wish for more, say “what if”, don’t follow through or just become complacent because we don’t have the strength to do what we hoped for. So we look for distractions, we change jobs, change lovers, enjoy too many drinks, eat too much, or point out the negative before seeing what the silver lining really is from that experience. But let me remind you, that these communities in Cambodia don’t have restaurants, top shelf alcohol in abundance at the local pubs or nightclubs to create a distraction. They don’t know what Xanax is or have psychologists to help with their historical pain or sexual abuse that the children suffer because their parents are so badly affected by what happened in reign of Pol Pot. They have scrawny buffalo’s to sow their rice paddies, wooden leaking boats to catch their fish or wooden poles to fish from the pond that sits at the edge of their village where they defecate, and they now rely on charities like Tabitha and people like us to reach out to pay it forward.

37 people decided to give up their personal time and money to come to Cambodia to work tirelessly to help these wonderful people and pay it forward to give back and help others less fortunate than most of the people we are associated with in our daily lives. Actually, it’s not just the people that actually came on this trip we should thank it’s all the people that donated money and time to attend charity fund raisers and our plea’s for help.

My gorgeous friend Belinda Bowtell committed suicide this July and our family and friends decided to send money to this fund instead of sending flowers because she had wanted to be apart of this group since the day I returned from our last trip. I had the great pleasure on behalf of all those that knew and loved her to mount a plaque in her honour – I chose to place it on the first house that my team built.

After feeling a real sense of pride doing this for her, admiring the gesture I’d just nailed, someone asked if I was ok, which is always the trigger, I had to walk away to be alone - I’d started to cry. But you know what, if you have any spirituality or faith, you’ll understand what saying here, she was there with me that day, I definitely felt that.

On our last day we left our families with a Blanket Giving Ceremony, a gift and tribute to each house that we have created. It’s very cute - we’d all became so attached to these people that have watched over us with joy and the lovely softness of their manner. Flashes went off nonstop – it was like a red carpet moment, yet on a dusty road with sweaty red-faced foreigners all loving the connection with our people for the last time. It was a special ending for our group – we were rather proud, united, backing each other completely through the heat, pain and exhaustion, and sharing a great giggle and tight lingering hugs, no matter what level of sweat.

There may have been a bit of bravado and ambitious intentions on that first night’s bonding session at the Liquid bar, but I know there is not one person that was on this trip that was not emotionally affected by what they were able to give back to these people. Each and every one of us has a story to tell about how we were impacted by this experience and I’m sure that even after the hang overs that we all got from enjoying ourselves each night - we’ll take moments while we’re back in our own stamping grounds, talking to our mates, to our families, or even when we catch our selves in the mirror just out of the shower, we’ll spare a thought for those people and wonder how their getting on in theirs. Who knows, they may even create new life for us to build homes for next year!

And as for our mixed group of many - we'd become one by the last night, we arranged a celebration for kings, a feast at the local restaurant called "Friends" where they teach the local how to cook, delici-os-so!... ah, and then a treat of kicking up our weary heals, dancing the night away, a mass of group hugs, flashing camera's and WAY over the suggested amount of fun and giggles they suggested on the label! Lots of indulgent warm and fuzzy stuff that happens at the end of an experience like this, that can only be discussed on tour!

SO - Whenever you’ve been given something or experienced something that you have felt had a positive impact on your life, look around and see who else would benefit what your support or gesture of a simple hand. Pay it forward, because as we all help each other out, the mutual reward in abundance is a very grounding experience for us all.

If you’d like to be apart of this group and wonderful experience next year, get in touch. Our fund-raising starts in April 2012, I’m holding a WAX OFF again – it’s a fun event where we wax men for the charity of Tabitha!

It will be something you’ll cherish and talk about for years to come.

Lots of love to all and our new Cambodian friends

TBS

Xxx

The other side of a love that we all lost

2011-07-19T12:00:00.000-07:00

In loving memory of Belinda Jane Bowtell, 24th October 1977 - 8th July 2011.

I lost a friend last week. She took her life, as lovers often do. Lovers that are so passionate about the well being of others in their life, before their own. Lovers that always care outwardly, but have never developed the tools or ever knew how to share what is happening inwardly to them.

These lovers, carry so much on their shoulders. Completely willingly. Because somehow, this has become their role in life. But unfortunately for all of us, it hides so magnificently even their own inner thoughts, or turmoil. For our lovers have no voice to share from what becomes a deeply lonely part of themselves. That part, they hide so well.

The world lost a wonderful woman on the 8th of July 2011, because a concealed solitary depression took her to a place that she felt peace would finally only come in silence.

In life, we meet so many people, we acquaint so many faces that we smile at, talk to, share stories, pass by, forget about, maybe see once every in while, because we choose to, or do out of habit, or keep because of normal conventional ties. We keep so many connected in nice friendly mate-ship.

Then, there are those that we meet, that from the moment that we connect something deep with in us tells us that they are very special. A conscious feeling that from the moment we meet them, we know they’re unique. We feel that bond and we know the difference. Deep within.

My friend Bel was one of those people to me. She was one of life’s dancers. So outwardly strong. Pragmatic to the core, and always, always, shot straight from the hip and the heart. She called it how it was, consistently. And I loved her for that. I thought I’d met my match, I felt that she was braver that I was. This woman, stopped me in my tracks; and I don’t say that about many people.

I’ll never forget, the day she came boldly up to me when I arrived in Singapore, told me she knew who I was, loved my energy and thought I was someone she really wanted to know better. Actually, she turned out to be someone I really wanted to know better.

I lost my friend, and I struggle with the fact that I did because I didn’t see her darkness. I was blind through my own distraction.

She was in love with her best friend. Together for 11 years. They had what others, liked me, wished for. They were a unit, a bond in absolute friendship, love and commitment. They were best friends. She would always say, “you know, Dave could leave me one day, and life could end one day, but you know what, that’s life, and all I can say is that I’ve had the best life I could have asked for”. She was always so matter of fact.

Her husband lost his love and soul mate to the silence of depression.

Her family were real, honest, good people that loved unconditionally. They shared life’s ups and downs, family normality, laughter and joy. And work through the confrontation that of one of them was not balanced; but not the love that they lost.

Her family lost their loving rock. Their golden haired girl. The one that brought they family together in a strength of will and love that made it all seem OK.

Her friends and colleagues lost their axel of realness. An anchor for so many, not just me. A confident, for so many, not just me. The one that always stood up for what everyone wanted to say, but so few had the courage to. The one they would turn to for advice on how to keep going in a rough patch, a tough time, when something was confronting, or so challenging they didn’t know what to do. Or just a smile to keep you going. She made it seem all OK. In a very real way.

Her friends lost their sanity point. The source of positivity, and reinforcing answers; always at the right time.

We had a very honest friendship. Well, I was very honest with her. Sharing many of my irreconcilable secrets. The last lunch we had together, I asked her what was really happening behind her eyes? She didn’t have the tools to talk. I knew this. But I could see a sadness. I could see she was struggling, but felt like me, was not great at expressing it. I vowed that the next time we court up, we would only speak of her. She agreed, but always said, “you don’t want to hear about me?”. We all have complications in our life that we struggle with, internalize to our determinant, and feel so afraid to share. And no matter how significant or insignificant it is to someone else, it can be so isolating. So scary to talk about.

I started a new job this year. I had the great opportunity of building a new business with a new team and she was the first person I asked her to come and work with me. I wanted her to be my financial guru. God love her, she turned me down, because she and her husband Dave had a plan. They wanted to get pregnant early in 2011, and that just wasn’t in her moral code to start a new business knowing that.

She got pregnant in February of this year. She had complications. Several morning sickness and horrific back aches and neck pains. She fell into a depressive state, and stopped working in March of 2011. She wasn’t coping. But even with medication and a trained psychiatrist, no one one could catch her silence.

I’ve seen many emotional pregnancies, but I didn’t see this.

I woke up at 6 am, the day she died. I felt her. I didn’t know why, but I reached to my IPhone and I immediately emailed her. The message said, “where are you, I needed to see her”.

The other side of losing the ones you love to suicide is finding acceptance.

I don’t have the answers for depression. I’ve suffered from it myself. In 2004, after a very traumatic time in my life, I was in a very muted place. I remember, being the life and soul of the party in my London days, but driving home one day from work, in my BMW 5 series, thinking, “it wouldn’t hurt if I drove into that pole right now”. A sunless, lonely, silent place that I didn’t have the courage to share with anyone for years later. But this is not my story, and that’s another blog, and through a lot of work, I have come to a very healthy place in life. But I know, as many do, about the depth of that silence place.

I’m a bit like Bel, trying to find the answers, trying to be pragmatic in the face of adversity. Yet, suffering from a huge, irreconcilable case of denial, I set off to research why this could happen to my friend. 5 months pregnant. Jumping off a balcony. Leaving her lover and her best friend, sleeping in their bed. Carrying their unborn child, not knowing the sex of the baby, they called it, “Lentil Bean”. Opening the balcony doors, standing there in the humid Singapore air, completely numb. Holding a balcony rail, standing eleven stories high, in silence, committed to what she was doing. Then, in the darkness of a starry night, at 4.30am, dressed in her pj’s, still wearing a maternity bra, she climbed over the rail and flew into her silence.

Her husband talks of a hole in his chest, that he has no tools to know how to fill. I felt something so different.

What I’ve discovered, and by no means is this the reality of Bel, but a possible reason; through researched information available by doctors published on the Internet is that there was an alarming number of pregnant woman that had committed suicide at 5 months. They had suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome before a pregnancy, then as a linkage to this pre-determination of self, suffered extreme chemical imbalances when they become pregnant.

It helped me with my pragmatic acceptance. Or denial. But my chest, trying to connect to Dave’s hole he spoke of, was still numb.

Her Auntie and Grandmother died late in 2010 in quick succession. She was incredibly fond of them, didn’t show many this pain, but shared with me that she wasn’t coping with the lose these loves from her life. But in her true trooper style, so would so quickly divert, change the topic, and then say, “She was ok. She was fine.” I hate that expression, “I’m fine”.

I spoke to Dave two days after she passed, and told him how depression has no arms or legs. There is no voice in this place. I shared my research with him, but I don’t know if he heard me, or was even ready to hear this? We all deal and process in such unique and varied ways. Time is not linear now.

The funeral was held in Melbourne on the Monday 19th July. A chance for all that could make it to see her face again. An unforgettable image of her hair of gold, her smile, shiny so bright and so wide, with her alluring brown eyes. I know she connected with every single soul in that room.

Was anyone in that room ready to say good bye to this woman that they loved? No, not at this time. No one was ready to lose this love. As I watched her white casket , lower slowly into her grave, into the earth, my face screwed up in agony. It was quite there at the burial, it was in our silence that we all dealt with that moment. And then, she was gone. So quickly.

The challenge of reconciliation.

I stood, watching her husband Dave stand at the edge of her grave, in his silence with his lost love. The tears that fell on my cheek, were the heaviest I’ve ever felt. I too was not ready to say goodbye.

The last communication I had with Bel, was me sending her a text in May, self indulgent in a busy workload, telling her, “I missed her, and I needed to see her and she how she was”. She responded saying, “this pain ruining her life”.

My response, was that “I’ll get through this launch and I’ll come and see you, hold on”. My business launch was 5 days later. I never saw her again.

I went straight to Tullamarine Airport straight after the funeral to fly back to Singapore. A 45 minute solitary taxi ride, dressed in black, I broke down. Every part of me collapsed. I lost it. I felt shame for my distraction of not being there. My chest was not feeling a hole, but a burning inferno of pain. I felt a pain in my chest, a tightness, a heat that I hated. I couldn’t breathe. I felt choked. My eyes burned, my heart thumped through my dress, I wanted to tear the fabric off my body. I wanted to feel blame for the loss of my beloved friend. I felt selfish, I felt horrible, I felt blind because of my own desire. Irreconcilable pain.

There is no blame, but there is the very confronting process of acceptance that everyone needs to go through. Shock, denial, anger, sadness, acceptance. But I do know that guilt is cohesive, and will only hinder life from moving forward. And I know this for certain, our dear friend would have never wanted that for anyone that she loved. And has lost.

I’m sure, many like me, feel like they have lost their source of truth, but are so devastated that they never really knew, or could be there to help hers.

I, nor anyone else, could reach the darkness she felt. And as much as I really hate this expression, “it is what is is”. She had no arms or legs to reach out. She has found her peace.

There is a saying that I shall close with: “Those that shone so bright, don’t shine for as long”. My friend Belinda Jane Bowtell, you shone in my life for a short but wonderful time. And the hole that we feel for you - one day, at some point, it will shift, as you would wish.

No matter how many people you pass, or hold in your inner sanctum, please care for them. As much it is the role of some to protect gracefully, they also need nurturing too. So, please; stop to ask ask of those that care so much for you unconditionally, how they are, and how they are feeling in life? Then ask again. Then, in three months time, ask again. Then just observe. Then, silently, reach out again, in your own un-confrontational way. Because, you know what? They might not have the tools to tell you at any of these points, but it might just be enough to thaw the silence.

It could just cure the deafness of depression, slowly. And one day, like it did for me, they may be brave enough to reach out in their own way.

Through your love, you may help someone feel reconnected to the lose of love they have drowned in, for what ever reason.

Hold the hands of the people that you love.

All my love,

TBS

xxxx

and..... I hear her saying, get busy living.

You’ll always be with me Bel. I will always love you.

The other side of the 50’s Flop

2011-07-07T10:34:00.000-07:00

This year, I decided I was going to ditch the 30 somethings lads, and try dating men with some know how! I was going to go head strong into the 50‘something territory and give that a whirl; what I like to class as dating the silver fox!

I love men with know how, but it’s got me thinking and interested that it’s actually a contradiction as well. And I’m wondering how many men in the 50something bracket have a blue funk about will they get it up?

The silver fox knows how to play that game, he is smart, and the master at it. He’s charming, gentle, yet provocative in a really sexy, subtle way. He is the thinking man and he too likes the ritual, it makes him feel strong and manly and of course, he enjoys us playing like we have no idea what he's up to and then at the right moment, fall into his whim, doey eyed and.... ready.

Like most dating rituals there is a process that happens. The man spots his woman, gives her his sign; that generally starts with a conversation pertaining to getting to know her. She then in return gives him the signal that she’s interested, but will also communicate, in her own clever way, her requirements. Those things that she will desire for him to do in order to get her into bed. It’s wonderful to watch. Just like clock work, he will set off, toute de suite, putting into place all that he needs to do to make his plan work, and hopefully his John Thomas too.

The other side of know how is the dreaded 50’s flop. You have all heard people talk about how woman in their late 30’s look scared, ooze desperation, as the time clock is ticking, and their faces show it. Well, I’ve come to a realization that there is also a look that these 50‘something men all have too. It’s a fear! An apprehension of, if she falls for it tonight and I don’t have to work any harder to get her into bed, will it rock on?

As the years pass, things change with men and sometimes the results are not pretty. Not even when a woman’s boobs sink well below her rib cage, and she’s gone all native and can self-plat, could ever be compared to that of a man that can’t get it up! No thrusting engine, no Choo-Choo steam, no big bright red Thomas the Tank Engine head on! Nup, can’t ram home, can’t get started and ends up just relentlessly trying to push soft putty into something that should only house silky smooth contraptions or a rock hard - choo-oooo!

Ladies, so let me tell you, instead of having to cajole him and tell him how hot and gorgeous his John Thomas is, save yourself the headache and desperate hope for lock jaw, and get out there and get your man some of this love drug called Cialis. It’s like the sister of Viagra, yet less intrusive for the those that need a break on the old passion paddock to catch their silvery breath and reconcile the anxiety produced because a leggy blonde has just blown their mind...literally.

I’d recommend Cialis over Viagra any day, it will keep your silver fox going for 72 hours. You will still need foreplay and a bit of hub-bub to get the silver hairs on his chest to stand up on end from a nudge and wink down below, but that engine will be a-hummin' now quite differently from before, and trust me, he’ll know it instantly. And then, yes, he’ll be ready to show you exactly how he know’s it’s done.

I say, a modern woman these days should not only carry a condom, she should also have a stash of these pills in her purse. That silly look of “father my child” will be instantly abandoned for something more permanent like Meg Ryan’s Cheshire-cat grin from “When Harry Met Sally”. And then ladies please, sit back and watch, just observe the attention. Then grin to yourself when you see how many woman under their breath are saying, “I want what she’s having”.

You never know when you’ll find that gorgeous silver fox coming out of the shadows; or maybe you will know exactly when he's coming, if you take my advice? But I warn you, you may fall completely punch drunk by this little process, so keep your doey eyes open. Nevertheless, who doesn’t love being treated like a princess by a man who can beat his chest loud and proud? He's feeling all manly and you get treated like a beautiful woman - the chemistry is so unbelievably sexy.

Choo-oooo!!

TBS

xxx

PLEASE NOTE: WARNING : Only use these drugs at your own risk, or if you have consulted a doctor. And please read the safety instructions. If your silver fox has a heart condition, you should know the health parameters, otherwise if could be your last Cheshire cat grin for a while. Check out the link below.

http://www.cialis.com/Pages/safety.aspx

TBS supports Expat Woman. www.expatwoman.com

The other side of a Caddy

2011-06-01T07:07:00.000-07:00

In life sometimes we just don’t have the right voice to get to the message across. It's like we have learned behaviour because we were not heard in a busy room of people that are bigger than us. Children verses adults, for example. Then as adults, we sit in rooms whereby our peers are louder, our friends are more dominate, or our seniors just have no interest in what we say because they know better. Or think they do.

Sometimes we’re just afraid to say what we think and then what? What you believed or wanted to share is gone, the thought past, the moment lost and the opportunity too. I wonder, what would the world really be like if we all got to say what we wanted? Bloody loud actually, or would it?

Or maybe, you’re the type that actually likes to hold knowledge, and not tell what you know? Maybe you enjoy watching others learn from you, or want to learn from you, in a more anonymous way. What I call, a style of voyeuristic learning; or what some may call, leading from behind. (but not in a homosexual way, of course).

I was speaking about Facebook at Brunch on the week end - and my friend was making claim that people that just observed, or watched, without comments, should get off FB. He was saying, “piss, or get off the pot”. My rebuttal was, "why is Facebook any different to real life group dynamics, whereby you would have certain people that would have loud voices, certain people that would make the controversial comments, others that would just want to watch, and then the others that would become your caddy for your voice?"

It got me thinking about a term I’ve been using a lot lately, to describe how to make your idea’s some one else’s. How we get our voices and messages out there, when you haven’t said a word to the masses.

What is a caddy, you ask? A caddy is someone that holds your golf clubs around 18 holes. Yes, they hand you the perfect club for the winning shot, because they know the game, and they are there 100% to support a winning game. It's an instant teaming thing that's going on. A caddy is the quite achiever of the game, that individual the golfer generally trusts, rely's on, but would never pay credit to for his win. The least acknowledged, but actually the most valuable if you know how to use him.

When a caddy tells a man about the hottest new wood on the market, latest Franck Muller designer mens watch or stocks about to fly, you can bet it's second hand information he's picked up on the last 18 supporting someone of note or stature. What is more, I'd also wager that when that golfer takes appeal to what he hears at par 3 on the 11th tee, at dinner that night with anyone else of note, he’s not going to tell you that Craig the Caddy was the source of his latest wank tank. Claim will be his own. And hence the cycle will begin; many sleaves will be pulled past the elbow to show off the last Franck. It's the nature of the beast.

Ok, so the idea is, that when you want someone to be your caddy, you chose a person that you know has the ear of the real target you want to get your message to. Then, casually tell them your idea in passing, at a lunch Que, at the pub after work, in the hallway, just simply in way that it looks like you’re sharing with that person. Then watch what happens. Your caddy will talk to the target, and then clock how long it takes for that idea to come out in the open. Trust me, it wont take long.

Now, this is important, so listen; whilst it wont come out as your idea, you still get your result. And then, watch yourself - look at how you can change from being the one that wanted to talk, to the one that got your result, with out publicly saying a word.

Then, observe cause and effect. The eventuality is that your caddy will naturally gravitate towards you for more such hallway, of fairway conversations. As you have not outwardly taken credit for words that have past between you, nor showed no ego of claim, the said Caddy will naturally believe and take on the words as if their own. Human behaviour is simple; you see your caddy will have received some form of gratitude therefore feel as though they themselves have been creative in the eyes of the target.

It sounds very manipulative, doesn’t it? But human nature, with all it’s colours, makes us all behave in ways that we need to in order to survive. Or simply get from A to B.

If we stop and look at how many times we’ve been some one’s Caddy, if you really think about it, we’ve all played that role. And I will say we’ve inadvertently made some one our own caddy at one point in our lives.

Cricky, we are all Steve Jobs’ caddy. And with 9/11 we were all Caddy’s of some conspiracy some smart people cooked up. But I wont go there today. But the truth is, we are all one for the Press; daily Caddy's for what powerful people want us to hear. How many times have you read or seen some report then reverberated it at a dinner party as if it were your own opinion? Many, many, many, many times. It’s what we do. We repeat what others tell us. So what I’m telling you is not necessary that controversial, it’s just pointing out the obvious really...... and when you know what you know, it tends become a little easier to digest, right!

I'm the youngest of three, with two older brothers, I am a woman in male orientated business world, 6ft tall and living in Asia. All of which means I’ve had to find ways to get around the obstacles that have been put in front of my hierarchy of life. Or in plain english, I've really struggled to say what I wanted to say when I've wanted to say it. With time, I've refined a skill to get my messages out in different ways. I’ve got my own caddy’s now because I’ve learned that I have to have them to get from A to B.

The other side of having a caddy is that can back fire on you if you’re not careful, so this does come with a warning! You can be effective at feeding other people with your brilliant, silent but deadly idea’s, but you could miss the point, because your caddy progresses well beyond, as you stay idol. You’ve chosen the wrong person for the job. Meaning, he doesn’t want to be a caddy, he actually wants to be Tiger Woods. Dependent on the intent of your message, find a person who doesn’t have such inspirations, or whom is neither threatening to your own cause, in other words.

Or, it can also back fire in such a way, like it did with me in the very early days of my career. I had chosen my Boss as a Caddy to get messages to a wider audience in my client and Big Wigs at the company I worked for. It was like poetry, beautiful in fact, we were winning, looking so elegant in our detail, we were all on such a high. Levitating, rich and very happy. It was a mutual appreciate society, as it helped my Boss recreate stature after some more difficult times he’d experienced. That was, until the time came when the Big Wigs remembered that my Boss wasn’t actually so elegant in the first place.

No man in the lime light of business wants to be known as being played like a ventriloquist. The result was ugly. He came after me in such a way that would derail any young woman in business.

I have learned two important lessons; one is on how to temper the caddy messages, and the other is that it is just life, actually. It’s real that people only have ears for messages from those of whom they wish to hear them from.

I’m sure if we all said what we wanted out aloud, as I questioned at the beginning; maybe yes, there would be chaos to begin with. However I feel, like everything in our lives, we humans find a natural way of order, or to assimilate ourselves with the new. We are very adapt at taking on new forms that are presented to us by someone else.

There wasn’t a ventriloquist in this scenario with past Boss, there was just an ambitious, naive 27 year old woman that was actually just intimated by her seniors. However as we all know, perception is reality, and there were causalities. Many in fact. So once a girl that told her Boss her overflowing, overzealous idea’s; today, I’ll tell you straight out. Real, strong, passionate, and with purpose. But you see, when I recognize you as someone that I can’t reach, or shouldn’t because it wouldn’t be appropriate, I will find a Caddy to share my thoughts with you.

Oni Va - I look forward to hearing more of what you really think?

TBS

P.s: Like in the great words of John Malcovich in Dangerous Liaisons, he had many caddy’s for his idea’s, that he liked to watch. And when he was caught, he would simply say, “it’s beyond my control.”

The other side of a chameleon

2011-01-07T11:23:00.000-08:00

Have you met people in your life that at first glance they are beautiful, alluring, sweet and kind; intriguing, captivating, seemingly spontaneous and magnetic? They make you laugh, smile widely and get a stitch from laughing, curdling your insides because you feel great! Then you get to know them and they keep you laughing, continue surprising you with more stories of wonder and silliness? And as you grow together, friendship or lovers, getting older, the lines around your eyes are more distinct and life is good?

OR,

Have you ever met someone that was at first glance beautiful, charming, alluring and made you smile so deeply, kept your interest, loved your interests, your music and your dialogue, finished your sentences, contagiously making you laugh so much that the creases around you eyes inevitably became more defined? Then, later, as you get to know them, the creases around your mouth become more jagged and downturned?

The chameleon has many faces. A talent to be many people, but the basis is a changeable and inconsistent character. However, the skill they have is to mimic your face, to tap into your awareness and your beauty. Fundamentally, the basic need and energy that drive these humans, from a psychological perspective, is to see themselves in the mirror of joy.

What the chameleon needs is to feed from a source that gives energy to the face conversion. The enjoyment of the first face! Sadly, they don’t often know effect of those relying on that initial face, therefore, when it’s gone or not able to be called on again, the watching eye is rendered asking, “…why aren’t I laughing anymore?”.

Without giving you a complete psychological profile, I’ll make this simple – the chameleon is not emotionally responsible with you.

How will you ever know if they are being real, or just want you to like them?

THE OTHER SIDE OF A CHAMELEON is, we all one are at times. Life serves us in such a way that makes us need to pretend. Whether it is driven from our families expectations, a commitment once made to someone because we thought it right, then later felt a captor and out of control. A societies pressure for us to be whomever, or a tightening grip of the proverbial wrench closing in on the work culture once signed up to in order to fit in.

Not everyone is a chameleon. People are simple and actually just love you for you. I’m not actually judging here, because I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’ve used a face to keep up appearances before. Sometimes we don’t know any better, it’s what we’ve learnt, or have been taught. Or simply the tools we have been given at the time to live, to survive. A option is to create an opening to listen, or a space for someone to feel comfortable who may need it; if you can, try it, it may help some one.

We all show certain faces some days to get by. Ones we love, ones we regret and come despise. Some profiles are needed to show a face in moment to convince that we are solid, but truly we are not. Or a face to hide the denial when once we were strong, yet we choose not to acknowledge or outwardly realise the reason we’re hiding from defeat. Or basically, when we just don't have the guts to be honest.

By the very need to have a façade we are potentially betraying the vision that someone else has in us. Thus, we may all pay a price. What is that price exactly? It can be ugly like disappointment or accusations of betrayal. Or a sense of being in quicksand, suddenly out of control. Somehow unaware we are colluding in misrepresentation or being a regrettable ticket for mistrust. Are we offering love when it is unrequited, or acting out continual blurred boundaries. The price is one of loneliness, with out being alone.

It’s only until we change our face back again, that the person experiencing the effect of the first will know. What? They will know the act of a chameleon.

We as people will be unreliable, every day. Integrity, however is a virtue I now strive for and look for in the people I associate with. Or an honesty to say, "hey, this is how it is". At my age and experience, I tend to cull those how don’t posses it. Ok, maybe a very pragmatic view, and not always how it works, granted - in reality I am more forgiving than this tale may tell. Icebergs.

The energy we need from people is all about acceptance. A want and need to know we are loved.

"A knowing that someone wants to love us".

What I’ve come to understand and really appreciate in life is that we all have colours – in one face. I’ve said this before; one face can show them all. It takes bravery, yes, it does. But really, know this, we have to learn there are not sharks in every water. Seriously, goes back to choose your attitude.

Choose what face you what to show. It doesn’t need a different bland or abstract exterior from your reality. Please, and if struggle at first, know that that is normal - don’t give up, it will become like driving a car soon enough. It’s a coward that doesn’t try.

I sat with my good friends tonight, having a welcome home dinner from Argentina! It was a night that I can absolutely say that the creases in my eyes gathered beautifully. No chameleons here.

I always say it’s important in life to be consistent. Look at yourself in the mirror, acknowledge and love the lines, the shapes - and if you have a double chin right now, lift your head up a little higher now…. you’re beautiful.

Love who you are and trust that the face will be welcomed in the mirror.

TBS

Xxx

p.s – I discovered a chameleon that inspired me to write this tonight. My friends told me to tell him he had bad breath to torment him. Fun, but not my style.
....And, like always, I've discovered there is two sides to every story!

The other side of baggage

2011-01-04T14:59:00.000-08:00

Now, no surprise to anyone who knows me, but I had a lot of baggage on this trip to Argentina. A month starting in Buenos Aires, then to my cows (herding and parting), moving to horse riding across the Andes and the finale of trekking through Chile. All have their needs and not one dress fits all. On my final leg, I arrived in the small sleepy town of Puerto Natales, Chile, to start the trek. The bus was filled with your typical travelers, back pack and beanie on, and there was me and all my bags. This English guy stopped and looked at me in utter amazement. A tall blonde, knee high boots, matching suitcase and carry on, back pack, walking poles, a day pack and handbag. He slowly turned his head sideways and said rather curiously "and you're going to trek with all that?". Nup, I was going to leave what I didn't need at the door. Although, all this carry of luggage got me thinking about how much baggage we carry around with us that has nothing to do with material or clothing. The emotional baggage stuff and we could all think about leaving at the door of 2011.

Trekking the W Circuit in the Torres del Paine National Park, Chile, we carried backpacks that were roughly 7- 12 kg’s heavy. Only the lightest and most imperative items came with us. Everything we needed accept food and a mattress or tent. To keep it simple, we all agreed it was better to be potentially smelly than have a sore back. More with less.

We took what we needed to survive and we all came back in one piece – a uncomplicated experience all serviced from one little backpack. 12kgs out of my 45kg, that’s it, easy. And guess what, we were fine, I was fine, more than fine. We washed daily, joked constantly, were blessed with incredible weather, the circuit unfolded unparalleled beauty, the worlds finest natural wonders and we were even given a Glacier splitting show, one our best environmental dichotomy’s. My jaw dropped a dozen or more times and I was desperate for another word other than “WOW”.

With our simple packs, as a group we challenged ourselves to climb higher, to keep pushing on through when it hurt, and helping each other out when we needed a hand. In our refugios at night food was served when we were hungry, a bed provided when tired and a semi hot shower for some when we were seriously smelly. All we had were our basics. No one had any trouble, no one was greatly hurt (although I hit my head twice and nearly passed out) and no one stopped being male or female, no matter how smelly we were. Pheromones still exist in the wild!

On the 31^st of December we trekked 16km to a peak to look out over Glacier Grey and we were fortunate to have a 45 minute stop because of the famous Patagonian winds were so high. A message would come to tell us to hike another 2 hours to the boat which would take us closer to the Glacier. We all sat alone for that time mostly. A perfect spot for reflectionperched in a nook in the rooks to get some shelter from the wind, onlooking straight at the magnificent blue icefield.

Even though I was wrapped up in many layers feeling like the Michelin woman, I felt more like I was the caterpillar shedding her cocoon to release the butterfly, ready for flight. I wrote in my book all the baggage I was leaving behind in 2010. I made a conscious decision that these were the things that I had processed, sat with, looked at, understood and where ready to put in a pack and leave at the door of my new year. There was no room for this stuff any more, I was consciously moving into a new space. Very liberating. The whole process was such a cathartic thing to do. Ok, if the butterfly is too corny for you, here stood a woman who’s lived an interesting life – and it is what it is; good and bad. I’d made peace with the stuff I needed to. It’s now time to look out over the world and see what’s next? What a great moment.

Then I gave my self a toast, “tits and bums”! Which was my toast call for the trip. I only had water with me, so it was a Clayton’s toast, but it was enough.

“Leave your baggage at the door and step on through to the other side.”

I don’t know about you, but I’m so glad to say goodbye to 2010, yet I’m really grateful for the experience. You can’t cheat yourself through that stuff, you just have to ride the wave and get through and back on the beach, or where ever it is you want to leave your backpack of baggage.

Going to Spanish speaking countries is just geography too. It’s not because I’ve come to Argentina and Chile that I’ve been able to eject the bag, it’s more that I’ve learnt how to steer better at the ripe old age of 37. I love getting older.

I’ve talked to so many people recently whom have all shared the common desire to see that back of 2010. Is it that it’s the aftermath to the GFC when things were really shit? Or is it that the mass of society, and people that are in my sphere have all had a really shitty year as much as I have? Was it just one of those years?

Don’t get me wrong, lots of great things happened for people in this year, babies were born and weddings went off with a bang, people fell in love, new big job contracts signed. However, my point is I have to spare a thought, a massive pregnant pause in fact because there were allot of us that had a great deal of stuff to deal with.

Stuff – what does that mean? Let’s give it some colour – this is what I’ve heard from and talked to people about this year - so here goes:

….having babies or losing babies, the never ending trying for babies, realising your partner doesn’t want babies, or your boyfriends ex girlfriend is having his baby.

…getting married, being married and being confused about what that is all about, breaking a marriage and not entirely sure what the hell to do next, or being caught in a surrogate relationship with your Ex which just makes life complicated.

…being punished for cheating, punishing yourself for cheating. Will she or won’t she leave him, will he ever leave his wife?

…new families bonding, new families breaking, dysfunctional families laying it on thick, suicide threats, dealing with abuse, breaking toxic patterns, being bashed by your boyfriend.

…..no relationship at all, or just swimming in relationship bullshit.

….. toxic politics at work, ugly work financial non payments of bonuses, work bullshit, work fuckwits, work everything, work, work, work, work, work, work, then losing your job, and the anguish of trying to find another one.

…..constant liars, nice guy chameleons that are really just dickheads, hearts breaking, tears falling, more dickheads!

…this is all just shit, when do we get to December 31^st?

I’m sure there is a long list more…….

The other side of baggage is some people need to hold on to I it like safety blankets. Or they hold on to it because they believe it keeps them warm at night, even if they lay shaking. Some are exceptionally comfortable holding on to everything and anything. They are known as emotional hoarders. Living in the past keeps them firmly in the same place, because simply that’s what they know. They tend to feel more cosy with complication than others, although complain about it constantly. What’s more sad is that most of these people don’t understand how much their baggage can choke or suffocate others. It’s difficult to breathe and manoeuvre with all this stuff in your space right!

Now some baggage takes longer than others to get off you back. Granted, it takes time to process. It’s whether you make a decision to keep it with you or process it to move it along…. Nothing to see here, right! Try letting it go.

Why don’t we apply the approach we took to our packs for the trek more in life I wonder? You know, only take what you need with you to move forward and enjoy some of life’s most incredible scenery. Are we all just too afraid that if we let go of too much we’ll allow ourselves to be smelly once in a while? I’m holding on to the mantra of my trekking group, take less to see more.

I’ll let you in on secret, when we were smelly on the trek we all just got into our mountain air hot tub, no joke! Fresh as daisy after that!

The most important thing to remember is this – you decide, you choose what happens, and know that your year ahead is only what you make of it. You can do anything you put your mind to. Be realistic but go after it, every bit of it. And please don’t forget to ask for what you want, or tell the person in front of you what you want. If you don't ask you, don’t get.

So, if you can, wrap up your woes, package up your past, have a chat with it, look at it, name it, see what colour it is, tell it how you feel and then put it in a pack and leave it at the door. Take a big breath and say, “See you, ciao, getouttahere, oni-va, tits and bums, cheers big ears – now fuck off Noddy!” How ever you want to say good bye, up to you; but leave it at the door.

I’ve had some incredible moments on this trip, however sitting on the top of the peak with Glacier Grey in Chile has to be one of the best. It was the perfect way for me to say adios to 2010 and to date, is the most unsurpassed new years ever day I've experienced. I may have come to Argentina with loads of stuff, but I've sure left allot behind. (Even though I'd be lying if I didn't say I have a stella new wardrobe!)

A final note, if your personal baggage is loaded with a few more love muffins that you normally carry at this time of year, don’t worry about it, no te calientes. Yes, take it easy, smile and know that it purely shows how much you’ve enjoyed saying see ya to 2010.

Happy new year to you all. I hope your new outlook for the year ahead is a better, brighter shade of simple!

I leave for Singapore tonight.

I’m ready to come home.

I’ve had the trip of a life-time.

Viva Argentina! Buenos Noches.

Love love love, TBS

p.s Sometimes I think the blackberry is the heaviest all of baggage – second to the ex in our lives that we can’t get past. The hyriachy of baggage, don’t get me started.

The other side of the Legends of the Fall

2010-12-25T11:39:00.000-08:00

Location: http://www.estanciacristina.com

It is Christmas day and I’m in my own little version of Legends of the Fall here at Estancia Cristina.

Its just sublime, accept there is no Tristan, Brad Pitt or the lovely Sir Antony Hopkins, or 3 boys off to war fighting over a woman or for me. Well maybe that’s not so true, there is no war here!

I’ve been sitting in my lovely room, in a cottage in the middle of bubblefuck and icebergland in Patagonia, with a needle and thread sowing up my True Religion Jeans. Thankfully they have split in the ass because they are cool (phat) aged jeans, and not because my ass has spread like the Patagonia Icebergs have over the last 2000 years.

On this stretch of my trip for my first night, I’m with an English couple together for 7 years, however just married in November and a French couple who look like they’re reliving their youth. Michel (the French dude) pulled out a harmonica when we got shown to our cabins and stood on the porch like a mountain man, playing a wild tune, the sound echoing beautifully, whistling through our little private valley. It was really something. I love these little moments in life you know, random and the often the best. Short-lived was this group as they had to leave early because of poor weather and the boat wouldn’t sail on Christmas Eve (the only way here is by boat for 2 hours through the Glaciers). It really did become my own little retreat then until the next lot of guests arrived on Christmas day. How harsh.

The Estancia team is also what makes this experience so great. Great formulae, everything is included in the price (bar the alcohol tab – pardon the pun) all incredibly attentive and all very well chosen. Many have become my new amigos. The Sommelier Andrea especially, who has been treating me to some of the best wine Argentina has to offer. I hate to think what my bar bill will be?

Soli my hostess is a gem and has looked after me like her best friend who has just come to stay. Mariano my outrageously gorgeous Argentinean guide has held my hand through the glaciers and up mountains to show me the best views Cristina has to offer. Walking back from the Glacier Upsala the day before last, we got talking. He was very impressed I was a woman traveling alone and 37 for that matter. He felt I was so brave. He was right, it did take courage.

He helped me understand about how the Argentinean men loved, it seemed that every man I met wanted to talk about they way they loved. He told me that blondes like me didn’t exist in Argentina. I was incredibly rare, his eyes smiling more and more at me. Yes, I wanted to tell him I was utterly unique, and that there was nothing common about me, or rather that in a week’s time I’d have brown roots! I didn't choose either. I did try to reciprocate in some way by helping him to understand that I didn’t have the pleasure of enjoying the sight of such fit, supple brown skinned, dark brown lush lashed eyed men either in Singapore.

The hike was 4 hours, so we got plenty of time to talk. He encouraged me to find out what it was like to let an Argentinean man show his love for me. We were hiking, the wind was up, the cold was pushing through my jacket so I could feel it on my skin, and yet all I could think was I was having a tender, moment with a man, who I might add, was making me feel like a beautiful woman despite a puffy North Face Jacket and baggy ski pants. I felt like a Princess in the Legends of the Fall Valley. As we walked back to the main houses, he pointed to my Cabin, “The middle one and at the last window, is that one yours?” he looked at me and didn’t turn his gaze until he saw my response.

That day I have found my poncho – the mandatory member of an Argentine wardrobe. These carpets over your shoulders are vital, and I’m now in love with my new one. I fell asleep in the afternoon, siesta time, curled on the top of my bed; tired, toasty, feeling so yummy, warm and fuzzy on all fronts.

At dinner, the sommelier Andrea has chosen a bottle of wine for me – it’s seriously good. Seriously. After drinking Vino Toro out of a carton across the Andes, it’s like velvet on my tongue. In Argentina they call this a “select” wine; Catena Zapata 2004, Agrelo, from Estiba Reservada. It’s stamped with a number, apparently very official; what’s more, it comes in a little grey hoodie. No, it’s an alpaca grey sleeve with face cut out of it for the label and a red tie, it’s rather lovely, and it’s coming home with me.

With wine, comes dinner, and for the menu du jour:

Estradas

Proveleta Patagonica con Ensalada verde y vinaigrette de Tomates secos

Which is Spanish for:

Patagonia Provoletta with Green Salad and Dried Tomatoes Vinaigrette

Platos Principales

Cordero Braseado con Tuberculos Asados en Manteca de Limon y Tomillo

Translates to

Grilled Lamb with Grilled Tubers in a butter of Lemon and Thyme

Postres

Bizcocho Humedo de Chocolate, Ganache de Chocolate y Naranjas

Which literally means love muffin me up! Just heaven on a spoon!

My Legends of the Fall Estancia is well known for it’s gastronomic prowess.

Which translates to - the food is to die for. The chef is my new friend too. He comes and personally delivers me my meals. We shake hands, I say “Bueno”, he then leans in and kisses me on the cheek. Then I blush and give him a huge smile. I love this place. How can life become better than the movies I ask you? It’s so special. What the other guests must think I have no idea. Nor do I care. I think it all started because I just simply sent Soli into the kitchen on the first night to tell him his food was magnificent and since then, he’s in love. I’m in love. Again, I’ve fallen in love with every one here. Didn’t realize I had so much love to give, well, that’s lie.

And then last night, the Chef hung up his apron, came out at five to Midnight with a glass of champagne for me and leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. I blushed and kissed him right back – on the cheek. Bless his cotton socks, he literally turned and rushed out of the dinning room into the night. I got a bit welled up, it was really gorgeous.

The other side of this Estancia is that it us situated on National Park and boundaries, excluding Antarctica, by far the largest ice body in the Southern Hemisphere. The South Patagonia Ice Field, and Upsala Glacier where I hiked to. In fact it’s third largest in the world. These glaciers are moving constantly, breaking off in huge ice wafers; a sound that crackles, chilling to the bone. You’re excited to hear it, but never quite prepared for it. It surpassed any crack of thunder I’ve ever heard. The Upsala Glaciers has moved so much in the last 3 years, shifting vast amounts of ice, over a 4 kilometers block in fact snapped off and is floating down stream into Lake Argentina. Where is a geologist when you need one?

As I leave my valley today aboard the boat, we sail back out into this iceberg field. As a tourist it’s stunning, as a geologist I’m sure it’s far more devastating. It makes me wish I paid more attention at school, or rather, keen as mustard to learn more as an adult. GOOGLE!

These broken icebergs are the most exquisite blues – like a sapphire my mum used to wear. My instrumental music distracts me from the environmental banner of look at this An Inconvenient Truth staring right at me. Another distraction is it has now become trendy to catch and break some off for your G&T. With both, I slip into fancy zone and look for shapes, a sharks head, a lemon meringue pie, a frogs face, all making the sides of my mouth curl up. These icebergs were glistering in the sun like someone had left the hot tap dripping on them.

I was suffering a pang of separation anxiety again, but nice inner warmth, I’d had a wonderful time and lovely Christmas with the scenes Legends of the Fall. I didn’t feel alone at Christmas at all, quite the opposite. I had such a magic time; Santa even came to visit on horseback.

I have two more components of my trip to go, but for me right now, if the boat sank, I would be happy. I’ve been an extremely fortunate woman.

I shall go and stand at the front of the boat, put “My heart will go on” on the ipod, and stretch my arms out and let my hair flow in the wind. Where is Jack when I need him? Regardless, my feet aren’t quite touching the ground at the moment.

Again, I would recommend Estancia Cristina to any family, couple of single gal looking keen to explore Patagonia. Excellent, 5 star rating.

If there was such a thing as a food-a-holic, this when they need to cart me off to rehab. Nah, I’ll just start the 12 steps when I get back to Singapore. Dieting when the world is offering such fine cuisine on holiday is sacrilege. I should work it all off on the next part of my journey. As for my new amigos, I was truly made to feel part of the clan, our prolong parting embraces made my Christmas retreat all the more special and me, warm and fuzzy.

Next, I head to Torres del Paine to trek and kayak in Chile for 7 days.

Merry Christmas to you all where-ever you are the world. I hope that you have been given lots of hugs, warm smiles and a glass a Champagne handed to you with a kiss on the cheek too!

Love, love, love. Viva Argentina.

TBS xxx

I wonder how environmentally active I will become when I return to real life?

The other side of being a passenger

2010-12-24T19:59:00.000-08:00

The next phase of my Argentina trip – the horse ride over the Andes, crossing into Chile.

Location: http://www.huechahue.com/

I arrived in Bariloche and I got off what was more like my little 1973 Ford Fiesta beaten up car, than a boeing plane. I promise you this aircraft was tied together with a string and some clag I used in Pre School. I didn’t care it was taking me to my little adventure in the Andes on horseback. I had no idea what to expect, I just knew I was going there to be a passenger.

You’ll be happy to know I left the black high heels at home, but swapped them for a pair of my finest, most solid brown boots, with an appropriate heel. They were fab, and for the record, they lasted the whole trip, in fact I’m sitting here with a stupid grin on my face as I wiggle my toes in them under the table. These boots took my up and down some pretty steep hills, mud, dust, slopes that even the horse slid down, these boots were made for walkin’, a surefooted heeled Aussie bird! Olay.

Righto, so back to the scene at the airport – I was forgotten by my hostess, but not for long, for then came bounding through the door was Ernest. He was a huge, big-handed man, who didn’t speak much English, so we pointed and laughed at each other for a lot of the 2-hour journey to Estancia Huechahue.

I decided to have two days at the ranch before the horse riding started and the rest of the crew arrived. Buenos Aires is the Paris of South America and yes it has so much to offer, but in the two days I was there, I gave it good nudge and decided that cities are everywhere; time with my cows was what I was wanting. And time with my cows I got.

The lovely Diego (our host and posh Gaucho) took me under this wing and immediately out on the ranch to chase some cows, MOO! We then painted yellow numbers on them at the crack of dawn the next day ready for a big event. I was going to a horse and cow thingie. It’s got some posh Argentinean name and they do take it very seriously, so I will probably be run out of town when I publish this, but as a passenger you're not supposed to pay too much attention to detail, so for this piece it was like a rodeo/fate event, where the locals did this amazing parade of horsemanship in an event called Cow Parting.

The whole town was there, and everyone looked like a gaucho to me. All so authentic and right out of a coffee table book I bought before I left. These very 80’s looking men on horse back and dressed in Michael Jackson big shouldered pleated leather jackets sat on their strong beautifully shiny creatures and parted cows in a very small yard. Olay. I’ve never seen a man twirl a horse like that in an instant. They would round up 3 cows of the same number, amongst 30 with in 42 seconds. Unbelievable. It was dusty, magical and more than the movie ticket promised I would see. This being a passenger thing is working for me!

The following day my fellow horsemen arrived. We sat around the table eating our first 3-course meal (every meal was three course after that!) The group was very formal, polite, swapping amall talk and no laughter at all. I had a hunch that this wasn’t going to last. I was right. The group was perfect. We were so lucky. 3 couples and 3 singles gals, and we all just clicked. It was the best group of randoms, and from the end of the next day onwards, there would not be a dull moment, or silent ones for that matter. We became a little unit. Even with the locals, we were one big happy family.

Next to the horses; all of whom were matched to our personalities. They did such a good job really, all very apt. Enter stage left Argentina. She was brilliant. She and I bonded in an instant, and in true Aussie style, I shorted her name to Argi. She was just like me, in every way possible it was hysterical.

Fast, like lightening when she wanted to be. Tall, strong, big eyes, and when she couldn’t be assed, she was happy mosing around at the back, just watching what was going on. She had her days, she definitely got her period at one point, she got a serious strop on one morning. Then far out, don’t mess with her tummy, or she’ll bite. I’ve got a nice purple patch on my upper thigh to prove it. Well yeah, I’ll backslap you too in you poke hard in my love muffin. And hey, yes, she was a flirt, no doubt about it – for when there was hot boy out front, she was certainly up there having a little twinkle in her eye, flicking her hair for him. Zorro was his name. HI Aussie name was Zozzi - is that fitting for a big hot black Stallion? Hmm?

Like every journey as passengers we need a safe place to land. Pedro and his merry men were our ground staff. He makes a mean G&T and he’ll never leave your tin cup with a coloured ribbon on it go empty. The food was utterly outstanding. Although, even being a farm girl, I have never eaten so much red meat in such a short space of time. I'm checking in for an Up the Jackson treatment when I get back into Singapore (Colonic, sorry too much info!) My fellow Aussies will hate to hear me say this, but I have to share a secret with you. This beef and lamb takes on Australian meat hands down. I’ve had several Patagonian lambs fanned out on the bbq, sirloins, rib eye t-bones, massive Fred Flintstone beef ribs on medieval swords stuck into the ground around the camp first, and with all I could have used a blunt stick to cut through it like soft butter. Juicy, fresh, succulent, amazing. magnific!

We were lucky to have had beautiful clear nights under the stars, sleeping on the ground, well on our thermal 1-inch thick mattress or sheep skin saddles. The first night was I thinking to myself what the ffffaaarrrrkkk have I done here, was I drunk when I booked this holiday? But the passenger in me pushed on. Come the last day, I didn’t want to leave, even sitting around a dinner table seemed wrong. We all missed Pedro and his billie-can of hot coffee from the fire.

We traversed up and down the Andes, followed a snowy mountain river, crossed about 10 of them and survived through a pretty intense sleet and snow storm which just happened to be on the highest peak, our ridge of choice over the Andes. Most of us thought our days were numbered and even the horses seemed to shake as we tried to get down off this ridge. I was shitting myself personally. Unlucky, or luckily, we had to change course and headed away from the ridge and through the dense forest.

The forest was staggering, in parts really mind blowing. We took to recalling movie scenes that it reminded us of. First it was Last of the Mohicans; we were expecting men in little loin clothes and tama hawks to come out of nowhere, we were shouting at each other, "Stay alive, I will find you". We actually were in an Indian plantation with a real Indian guide leading us, so inspired. Then through the monkey puzzle trees we all thought Gandalf would came gliding out with the Tree People, and we were in Lord of the Rings. He and they would have been tall enough for our tree's. A quick scare gave us the Blair Witch Project, then finally, then it was Out of Africa in the wonderful little clearings with perfect lush grass and one or two dead trees that seemed fitting and medieval. These were my favourite and always such surprises when we had just ridden through dense forest. Our mysterious little treasures only discovered because we were on horseback and perfect for our afternoon siesta. Then there was the wedding scene for Braveheart. Of course, I had the sound track playing.

The other side of being a passenger is that it can have a shelf life in my books. Meaning that to relinquish my freedom of a choice wasn’t going to work for the whole time. With every great story there has to be some good with the bad – really, the bad is there to make the good times even better.

I got sick. I really was open to moving on from 2010 and leaving all the bad stuff and hard year behind me. Rules of physics are: what goes in, must come out, and my toxins were coming out. I got a stress lump under my arm. I knew what it was immediately, but untreated it become nasty, spreading quickly and the pain really set in. I was trying to treat it with overdosing on evening primrose oil and every other tea tree oil or pill I had in my bag. I wanted so badly to keep going, I didn’t want this little journey to stop but it was looking grim.

It was time to take back the reins and be responsible. I needed to be real about this and the pragmatic woman kicked in, “well, it is what it is”. And it wasn’t going away on spiritual affirmations and 4 horse pills of evening primrose oil either. Was that the end of my trip – ho hum? I had 3 weeks left of more yeah ha action that I also needed to protect, and I didn’t really want to check out how good my UOB travel insurance was.

The gap of changing horses at Chile was the opening. Jane (the owner of the Estancia) rushed me into the closest town and into Hospital. The next thing I knew, my pants were down and I was blushing getting a jab in the ass by a nice handsome young Argentinean doctor. The formulae if I wanted to keep riding; strap up my arm and take some medicated horse pills. "Antibiotics down your gob, or up your ass?", one of my new friends asked me. What was I prepared to do? I wasn’t going to die, or loose a boob so there wasn’t any need for the latter precaution. I was back with the group with in the hour. Yeah Ha, Olay.

I rode for the next two days with my arm in the sling. Less pain, and more love. Great antidote really - The gauchos were a sucker for a blonde in a sling! I really was a passenger now, I didn’t lift a finger, or a saddle for that matter, but I was well enough to lift a glass, "pass the vino tinto, I’m back!"

For the next two days, I had a little chat to myself – yes again, it was all about the choosing your attitude stuff. I could be a passenger in the journey, but a passenger that checked in this time. Get a ticket and know where you’re going love. I had a second chance and it was sweeter than the first.

Chile was magnificent. Fresh horses, a complete change in scenery, more lush and green, softer steep slopes that we had fun cruising down like The Man from Snowy River, with our Chilean red headed leader calling out random Chilean words that none of us could understand. I joined in with “Marco....Polo”… no one really understood that either! I had found my fun button again, with a new passenger appreciation. Our little ponies, mine was Favourita, were the experts and we were travellers.

The slopes seemed steeper, more sludgy, more muddy, seriously slidey, but I had complete faith in my Favourita, he just bounced down, sure footed, a man on a mission, utter know how, a real professional and I was so happy hanging on for one armed ride. We were well matched, Favourita and I. I only wish I would fall in love with a man in real life like that. Surefooted. Yes, that’s it.

I’d recommend Estancia Huechahue to anyone wanting a little adventure and some good honest riding fun. There is none of this trail riding bullshit for sissies and nay-stuffy wankers that think being horsey is something to brood about. I had the time of life, which was one of the movie scenes we didn’t think of. Every night was a hoot, full of sidesplitting laughter, great stories, incredible food and Vino de Toro that we could muster under the south hemisphere bright stars.

As for my little group, I fell in love with them all. (My nose is tingly writing this). As passengers together over the Andes, we bonded. Thankfully no one had to eat a frozen bum cheek (for those of you that have seen Alive!). There is talk of getting together again for another little adventure…. maybe horse back across Africa!

As for being a passenger, some are better at it than others. I’m learning nicely I think. It’s really lovely when you have a life that is so jammed full of making decisions all the time, that you can enjoy letting someone else take the reins for a while.

Olay – on to my next journey and opportunity to just go with it for a while. Estancia Cristina, again, I have no idea what to expect, but I know all I have to do is just rock up and they will feed and take me out looking at some great big iceberg stuff! Unreal. Tick, yes please.

I know this is going to sound so utterly annoying, but I have to say I’ve been the luckiest gal in the world. I’ve had such a wonderful time on this trip, even though not everything has gone to plan. I’d put this little trip on your Bucket List, and as I always say, never put a price on experience.

TBS

Xxx

p.a Btw I fell off the horse twice and didn’t even fall over in my heeled booted babies - go figure!

The other side of No Te Calientes

2010-12-09T18:19:00.000-08:00

The Argentineans have got it right, either the entire race has had botox, tinted eye lashes and a bottle of blue pills in their hip pocket, or there is something in the gene pool and attitude towards life that is beyond what I’ve seen before. These people are beautiful in every way and they seriously seem to love everything that life has to offer. These people choose to take it easy!

No Te Calientes, I’ve heard this expression several times today; it literally means to take it easy. The Argentina’s say it as a throw away line, like to say hey, chill baby. Its cool, I like it a lot. It seems to be the perfect phrase for me at this time in my life. Move aside urgent, warm and fuzzy, yeah yeah yeah, make way for No Te Calientes.

I had three intentions today, to meander, shake off the hang over and buy a piece of jewellery to remember Buenos Aires by. With my new Camera bag bouncing alongside my handbag over my shoulder, beaming with my fill of this Argentinean love fest and I was set to explore. Happy snapping and some stylish leather bracelets later, it was time for me to take a moment and order a drink. At that point, I remembered my little promise to be present and I felt it. I was surrounded by more than the wolf whistles, lovers and a bag of accessories. I had company.

There he was across the street, staring. I’d taken photos of him and didn’t even realise it. He’d followed me from the jewellery store 4 blocks to where I had parked for lunch. With absolutely no camouflage, he just sat there, like a jaguar waiting for his pray. In true Argentina form, he made no attempts to hide his feelings, he was there waiting for me. Well not for me, for my camera I suspect. This targeting I had read about and once upon a time I would have freaked out right about now, but with my new motto of choosing my attitude, I decided this jaguar was not going to make a dent on my love-in. I chose No Te Calientes. He’d chosen the wrong Sheila.

"Ola" my hand went up, and my lovely waiter and I had some words. With no fuss, he calmly said, “No Te Calientes, I’ll walk you back to your hotel.” It was just like that, so easy. So guess what, I took it easy, finished my pizza and beer and watched the world go by for an hour and honed into the lovely sounds of the Spanish accent in full flight.

Omar walked me home in the afternoon sun, chatting about life, love and Argentina male philosophy. He was a single man at 67, had had two loves, but didn’t believe in a woman controlling him. I got the sense there were more like him here. He was 4ft 5, but he naturally exuded a considerable stature. We swapped details and we agreed to have a red wine when I came back to BA in three weeks time. I think he has a few stories to tell and I want to hear them.

The other side of No Te Calientes is that it has become crystal clear that these Argentinean’s don’t know how to take it easy on the love thing. As I ambled along the classic tree lined charismatic streets, my eyes lit up by the sight of countless happy people. Lovers kissing unashamedly, old people holding hands, old men sitting on benches laughing and debating, and men with no indignity for letting out a good old wolf whistle in adoration for a beautiful woman. And you have to respect these people, it's life for them, in no way are they embarrassed to demonstrate the way beauty makes them feel. There is no discrimination or limitation in age either. How refreshing.

I’m in love with they way their voices hum. I sat with one ear listening to the people at the bar last night, oh I just the sound, the rolling r’s and lisp and deep voices of the men. It’s dreamy, Mc Steamy. On my way home from blogging I met some people who invited me to drink with them. We had a lot of fun, not much Spanish, not much English so we wrote on napkins and drew pictures. The one word I could tell, and heard a lot was Bonita. Simply means Beautiful. Oh, gosh, pout, blush, and more of a pout.

I was fixated and made them say things for me in Spanish. I think they thought it was all very cute and charming so they played along. Regardless, it was intoxicating for me. As was the local vodka. The sounds of the rolling r’s and rumble of it all, hmm, everyone is Bonita here, no matter how they may look in their own mirror. Did I have vodka googles on?

I want to come back as Penelope Cruz, not only would I get to snog Scarlet Johansson, but I would have that sound, that magnificent, smokey sexy sound come out of my mouth with every word. Inspired, I’ve been walking around today practicing my Spanish. Reading street signs, menu's, then saying English words with a Spanish accent. Honestly, it's easier for me and seems to work for them to! Of all the words, I’ve decided I like the sound of “lovers” the best. Say it slowly, practice with me, here goes:

Let your whole mouth get around it (righto!) and when you start, begin with your mouth opened as if you were going to take a sip of your coke lite. Then press your tongue up against the roof of your mouth, just touching your front teeth. From the front, and in slow motion, you should see the curve of the spin of your tongue. Then bend your tongue down and let out the first syllable “laah”. Let your breath push out and make a breathless “ahhhh” sound. Then press your lips into a pout as if you were going to sip on the straw in your coke bottle and push the “veerrr”. Then, while pouting push your tongue back up, curled under your front teeth, and bring your teeth almost closed with enough gap, lips still pouting, then, while you push out the final, sultry syllable, twist your tongue and then roll it inside your mouth to create the “rrrssssssshhhhs”.

Now say it all at once - “Laahh-veeerrr-rrrssshhhhhs”. Next, stop picturing me saying it and think of Penelope Cruz saying it to you. Hmm, No Te Calientes boys!

(Note to self, probably a good thing to stop practising saying “lovers” as I walk along the footpaths too!)

It’s a good job I signed a contract with my new job, because I can tell you I’m already giddy in love with this place and if ink wasn’t on paper, I dare say I’d stay here for a while longer. But if I come bouncing back into Changi airport with long black locks, big lips and lisp, you’ll know what’s happened to me.

No Te Calientes, I’m just joking, blondes have more fun.

Take it easy laah-veerrrr-ssshhhs!

TBS

xxx

P.S: Then just to prove an Argentinean point as I walked home tonight after dinner, I came across a street dance off (which doesn't sound sexy enough or give justice to this tribal gathering). The Argentina’s of course love to dance; there was jungle drums, native calls like wolves, men and women with hardly anything on making some serious moves together, rubbing bodies, hands everywhere and shakin their booties like Shakira. There was plenty of bouncing boobs, jelly belles and muffin tops swinging away, but again, absolutely Bonita. God If I moved here I’d never have to do no carbs ever again!

Love love love. Viva Argentina!

The other side of choosing your attitude

2010-12-09T00:12:00.000-08:00

I’ve arrived in Buenos Aires, having slept for 12 hours of the 27 and feeling pretty damn good. I’m sitting in a bar in down town BA having some Martinis and some local nosh to get me acquainted. Beautiful people everywhere here and I feel like I could be at home in Melbourne in St Kilda somewhere. Nice. It's just fabulous, I'm tapping my boots, there are such great tunes playing for me here.

This is the first day of the rest of my life. I could say that every day, but I thought I’d choose to make it count today. I have made a little promise to myself for this whole trip and coming year; I’m going to “choose my attitude”. Ok, that might sound daft and fluffy, but after losing it last night before I left Singapore, I thought needs must.

Now, for all of those people that I’ve annoyed with my relentless overgrown smile and stories of beef farms and getting back with my people (the cows that is), and so many of your have said “….I want your life, I want to do what you’re doing…. “, I’ll let you into a little secret, the shine wore off last night and I hit a massive brick wall.

I had a power kip before packing last night (always pack at last minute) and when I woke my flatmate was out and I was alone. Oh dear. A silent stare into his empty room, condo stillness, and then the anxiety set in. The little chin started to quiver, the cheeks went pink, my chest spasimed tight and yes, the heavens opened up. Now I could have split some milk (or soy) and it would have had the same effect, so I'll admit a simple trigger was all I needed to release the pent up girl energy that was bubbling away inside. One of life’s inevitable explosions.

What was it? A combination of things really, mainly over doing it I guess. That, and that age-old adrenalin addiction kicking in. Right, some factors to consider;

It was the last day at my job, saying goodbye to working with some really special people.

Then being told that my trekking trip booking had been “Argentinean”. Which meant, my only option was to camp outside instead of having a room in the Inn, which scared me a little to camp alone in Patagonia.

Maybe having 18 people for a sit down gourmet three-course Christmas lunch on the Sunday before I left had something to do with it.

Or what could have topped me off, was indulging in a new yummy romance that inevitably meant I had zero sleep for the week leading up to going away.

I felt like a child standing on the edge of a huge rock wanting to jump into the deep blue unknown ocean, pensive, but holding my nose ready to jump in, titillated, and definitely a little scared.

I was a little blubbering flower. HELP. A text message out and the universe did the rest. Bless, the calvary to my rescue. It’s remarkable you know – you just reach out and in an instant you have your cradle to rock in. I had calls from darling friends telling me every one would be there with me holding my hand, texts saying they were with me and thinking of me and couldn’t wait to see me on my return; and then the mother of texts came in – unprompted, seriously this blew my mind and dried the eyes I can tell you – it said:

“Hey there, have a great trip and fun time. U don’t strike me as some one scared of adventure but in case that happens, my tip is to always remember a line a friend of mine told me recently and that was …. ‘The brave may not live forever… but the fearful do not live at all’, Cheers D.”

And of course there was Nona, my wonderful godsend of a helper, who is like a sanity checker more than anything else, who mind you, helped stop the tears as she sat at the end of bed laughing her head off at me whilst I was fussed over what the fuck I was taking.

The other side of this little unexpected freak out is, that it’s perfectly normal to expect such a thing would happen when you've tired to do this shit on you're own. And, well the nice thing about such a blubber is it just makes the edges softer really.

So here goes -

I didn’t have a going away party at work because I really hate good-byes, I get too teary and teary just makes me messy. I do feel like I’m breaking up from a relationship with leaving this job. I’ve had such a challenging year, but it’s incredibly hard to walk away from. The people I’ve worked with I would say I will keep as life long friends, so I find it all a bit confronting. I’m the master at confronting others, and do it often, but would prefer it not to confront me publicly.

I choose to have remembered me for my smile rather than some Gwyneth Powtrow blubbering speech at a party. Worth it.

The Christmas lunch was inspired by my Aunt writing to me supporting what I was doing, but said make sure you’re not lonely on Christmas day. So I thought, well, I’ll bring Chrissie forward this year and put on a show before I leave. I have to say, it was my best Christmas party I’ve thrown yet, the food was spectacular (if I do say so myself) the table was so bright and cheerful, every one got a goodie bag to take home, and wow, I got to sit and talk to people this time. God love Nona and helpers.

I choose to love my friends like family and take a moment at the table to see how happy people are eating my food and drinking silly amounts of wine. Utterly worth it – and not even considered a sacrifice to having more time to pack.

The silver lining to the camping situation on the trek in the Glaciers is that I’ll be camping with a fully trained “Patagonia propeller head geological guide”, who will be able to share all that “stuff” that will make those damn glaciers so much more interesting. So lucky me, I’ll get to have more time with this dude. See, always an answer. Solid gold glacier, worth it.

I choose to hold my nose and jump into the deep blue mysterious water, because what is the worst that can happen to me, come what may, there will always be a story to come with it. Writers worth it.

And as for being over tired - well, who can forgive me for falling for the alluring charms of an incredibly yummy Englishman over a Truffle dinner? Nice little Christmas gift, thank you. Absolutely worth being over tired for.

I choose to be open to experience lovely warm and fuzziness when you least expect it.

AND…. for shits and giggles....

Truffle Dinner at the Fullerton Lighthouse, 450 SGD; having a hot guy in a pink shirt at that dinner, priceless; for everything else there is MasterCard!

I tell you what, pointy ends of the plane, flatbeds, cream PJ’s and oodles of French champagne and Campari on tap makes for an enjoyable down time day. That’s what I’ve chosen to call the transit to my destination, some down time. My rancho-relaxo day on the plane with Qatar Airways. People scoff and say, blimey 27 hours travelling, I’m now saying, yes it’s my “me time”.

And now, I choose to present. Not only to take this experience in and soak it up mind, body and soul, touching and feeling at it’s finest… but I also realised I need to be really present. For, when I got off the plane, through customs and as I approached my welcome FLEUR GLOVER sign, curved lips, bouncing blonde locks and long boots skipping towards my liaison, it suddenly dawned on me, something was up with this glorious movie made moment. Wait, what, I’d left my entourage behind. Yes, that’s right, I’d left my trolley of my suitcase, carry one case and trekking backpack behind back inside in Duty Free. Blonde in boots!

I choose to be me.

The most important thing is always to know you have a choice - and you and only YOU decide what you want to do. You can spar, you can discuss with your partners, debate with a friend, beg for answer because you’re foggy, but only you can make up your own mind. Choose to be present. Simple idea really, but effective.

I choose to be a brave and curious character and I am relieved to be normal, and to feel naturally anxious, or scared and express it. I’ve chosen an unconventional life in the eyes on many, but as I said to a friend recently who wished she were doing this trip instead of being a new mother, “the grass is always greener”. I would love to have her life with a devoted husband and two beautiful children. I have just had some living to do before it’s my turn.

And until then, I choose life and great travel insurance!

Always remember to touch and feel.

TBS

Xxx

I know I need an editor, but I have had a few martini's tonight! :-)

p.s: I will apologise in advance, because I will come back incredibly annoying; full of energy, hope, inspiration and optimism. You can choose to ignore me.

p.s – next stop – a beef farm to herd the gorgeous creatures. This is one of those ticks in the boxes life experiences. I love cow’s, so be prepared for a cow blog.

The other side of travelling alone

2010-11-20T21:55:00.000-08:00

I came away to Phuket because I was supposed to be on a diving week with some friends and a boy I was dating. He turned out to be dickhead no 426 (and invited his ex girlfriend diving) so I thought why waste the paid for plane ticket, at last minute, I ventured off to Phuket, solo. To the lovely Serenity Resort & Spa.

http://www.serenityphuket.com/index.php

It’s amazing when you travel alone what can happen to you that rarely occurs when you have friends around.

Firstly, I made friends with the lovely AOF who was my host at the resort. I told him my story of why I was here alone, and that I was a writer, and asked if he had a room that had a lovely view that I could seek inspiration from and create my stories. He upgraded me to a two bedroom master suite. I promise you this place is bigger than my condo in Singapore. It’s well over 2000 Sqm with a huge balcony overlooking the pool and beach in front. Just Magic!

You are alone for as long as you want to be in this world of travel. On this trip however, I really wanted to have some solitude, me time and most importantly, rest time. Not to sound ungrateful, but I’ve been entertained by many little situations and people that have wanted to share my company.

With out going into too much detail, I’ve been given financial advice in the pool and an invitation to dinner by an Englishman here doing a 6 week Thai Boxing Course. He was married, so I said no! I was then approached in the turquoise waters by a devilishly handsome French man wanting to get to know me better; that was until his beautiful topless girlfriend came trawling into the waters. I thought, "hmm nice boobs", got the giggles, bit my lip and bowed out gracefully of that situation as well. I stopped at a random restaurant in the middle of the island and lunched with some boys from Germany, they were hilarious, and boys on tour definitely. They didn’t believe I was 37; not a day over 27, they were sure. God love them, if they had more facial hair I may have stayed longer. They didn’t look a day over 21.

Then came the silver foxes, three. Oh I had been spying these over my sunglasses during the time that I did have alone, midway in reading my “MBA in 10 days” book. I’d been out on my scooter exploring the island, and decided it was time for a sundowner, a head splitting frozen Margarita. Just as I came to the bar, there they were. Gillies, Andy and Izzy. All incredibly handsome, addictively charming, fit men in their late 40’s. I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy their company. I was invited to dinner, to tour the local Thai weekend markets and feast on the local delights. Whilst this struck on my Big Sheila foodie chords, no was the answer. But ...I did suggest that I might come and have a drink with them after dinner.

I was too chilled after my day on the beach and didn’t want to rush, even for these foxy silvers. This is going to make me sound like a bore, but I didn’t go. I came back to my palace, showered, threw on "Sexy in the City 2" to watch with dinner, and got into a nice chilled zone and sense got the better of me.

My hotel phone rang off the hook; the Silver foxes intent to track me down, however, at my age and experience, I know when a man has that look in his eye, and this night would not be early, calm or without a story. And at my age and experience, I know when to know better, especially when all three foxes had that look. It was enough to just know. I was happy being alone.

The other side of being alone on holiday is Facebook and the mobile phone always lets you know people are thinking of you. Phone calls from Catherine telling me she’d had breakfast with Bethwyn, talking about how special they both thought I was, which melted my heart to know I was in their thoughts. And Pete, my darling friend from Greece, called to tell me he loved me and in his glorious spiritual bohemian ways, remind me that love is all around, but it starts with me. And darling, Sophia reminding me to define my boundaries, to set filters and keep dickheads out of my life. Funny how people choose to call you at opportune times! (maybe it was her ringing in my ears saying no to the silver foxes!)

Having some me time has also inspired to branch out and travel alone further afield. I've got 3 weeks off work, so I've booked a trip to Argentina in December. A little glimpse at my intinerary:

First off, I’m going to get my file of the authentic Argentina Beef farm, and herd me some cattle at Estancia Huechahue (pronounced "way-cha-way"!). A working cattle ranch in Argentine Patagonia. Big tick in the box for me of must do's in life. Then, next, a group of 8 of us will ride on horse back across the Andes into Chile for 10 days. Amazing. 7 hours a day in the saddle, my ass will be either rock hard or red raw! Just sounds magnificent (check out the links below). Next, I will venture to a remote Estancia Cristina, where I will spend Christmas nestled with in the Los Glaciers National Park. It looks like something out of "Legends of the Fall". (Where's Brad? I wont comment any further there). It's so remote, to get there I will sail for 4 hours through the Argentino Lake among icebergs and mountains. Afterwards, I set off on a 6 day trek through the national park and into the glaciers further to touch and feel more of Patagonia’s mysteries an marvel at the blue marble icebergs. I'll spend New Years eve on Patagonia Glacier, slightly different from drinking too much champagne at some random party somewhere. I don't think I'll get a snog at Midnight, but it just looks and feels perfect! Finally, I’m going to round off my trip with some time in Buenos Aires, where I think it would be rude not to learn the tango! Not a bad little plan to hatch from a beach in Thailand hey!

Some links for you to look at:
Horse Riding across the Andes:
http://www.huechahue.com/index.php?language=eng&section=acr

The Estancia Cristina Lodge:

http://www.estanciacristina.com/english/contactos.html
The 6-day trek

http://www.antarespatagonia.com/programas/5.asp
The Hotel in Buenos Aires:

http://www.vitrum.com.ar/
A Youtube shot of the Glaciers I will be visiting

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v4UYpOOn9Ro&feature=related

I’d recommend the Serenity Resort to anyone that wanted a little special treatment in a more boutique style hotel in Phuket. It’s not a massive resort filled with every Tom, Dick or Harry and Leiu-phoa (his local underage girlfriend). It’s intimate and lovely.

What is also lovely is to know that we humans by our very nature are inclusive and seek to share as a normal way of life. And as I always say, everyone has a story to tell. I’ve enjoyed this time alone, and have taken pleasure in my little interludes as much as my quite time. Funny, I haven’t been able to nail this dry MBA book, probably also why I’ve been open to people approaching me. And as for Argentina, I feel that this is going to be one incredible journey. What a great way to set myself up for the New Year and maybe some new beginnings.

And as for new beginnings and new experiences, let's see what comes in next year! Like movies, I feel like I'm setting this up for a sequel post in 2011. .... I'm excited.

Talk soon,

TBS

p.s – he he, as I’m writing this from my balcony I’m getting fox calls from below. My Silver foxes are asking me to join them by the pool today. I love how there is nothing more reliable than the male ego! Hmm, might write about that next! ☺

The other side of the Killing Fields

2010-11-11T09:44:00.001-08:00

I’ve chosen to publish this from the raw format I wrote in that day: Here it is. Today I went to the S21 Torture Concentration Camp and the Killing Fields in Cambodia.

I’ve had one of those days whereby people have warned me, tales have told me and the world all knows, but somehow, when you are there, personally there, no-one can prepare you for what you will experience in that moment.

Our day started at the Tabitha Foundation, talking though the whole house building process. It was comical to start of with, telling us stories of how Tabitha are now responsible building the house foundations because teams before us we’re not so crash hot at the laying the foundation of the houses as a result, there were some casualties. So we were just here to hammer the floors and walls. Hammer, hammer, hammer - warned to watch for our thumbs, because it was bloody painful to get hit, time after time. We all laughed and joked and then there was silence for we were about to be told the truth of why we were here.

Nari, our host, told us of her story. She apologised for her broken English and she asked for us to bare with her and hoped that we would understand what she was trying to convey. There was no need to do so, we would all know in our heads, hearts and minds that what she was sharing was an honest reality of years of anguish, not quite reconciled. By the time we had heard what she had to say, even those that had been there before, would be hit by a wave of sorrow and sadness, empathic to her cause.

The Khmer Rouge had told her entire family, and in fact the entire town that they needed to flee from Phnom Pehn for three days to be protected from a threat of war. They gathered with them a small amount of clothes and money to see them through a short stint away from home. Three days turned into three and half years, she told us. She was stoic until this point. Then the glisten of tears formed in her eyes.

She told us she was separated from her family and forced to live with girls her own age. She was just 14, so young, so little, so innocent. I knew girls her age, and what it was like myself. No-one was allowed to show or express any kind of emotion or fear with the each other. They were forbidden to feel she explained. Their clothes were removed and they were forced to wear black. Numb, isolated in confined communities frozen by horror of what may happen to them if they did not obey.

Her chin started to quiver and her eyes well. To me, it sounded surreal. I couldn’t relate to what she was saying at first; incredible the strength and power of denial; I simply didn’t want to. Watching her and listening to even the sound of her voice, so raw and emotional, even some 32 years on, was too greater force for even my defiance to last. My nose went first, then my eyes over flowed, a tear dropped to my chin; quivering, my chest felt rock hard as my mouth and lips swallowed my deepest breath. I was now completely connected to what she was saying.

She told us that she and the other teenagers worked form 4am and worked until 9pm, all day in the fields with hardly any water or food to eat. And that they all feared the night the most. She said again, they hated the night. She paused. And my chest sunk. Tears were streaming down my face. I knew what she was going to tell us was not going to be the entire truth. I could see sorrow and shame on her face. She didn’t need to tell us all, but a story was given about people never returning after the night visits, and that was enough.

She paused and cried. I could tell on her face she wasn’t telling us the whole truth. There was so much more to her story. Our camera’s stopped at this point and the room was still. Completely still, we were with her, even those that had been before.

I didn’t want to go to the Killing Fields. I had hoped to visit an orphanage instead; I wanted to deny this experience. However, I chose to follow the group and get on the bus to go there. The group satisfied my need for distraction with great chatter and talk.

Arriving at S-21, Dougie,our leader, explained that lunch was at the restaurant opposite at 12pm, at this point it was 10am. He told us, if anyone needed to retreat before lunch, they could. In my mind I heard if you don’t like this - get out.

I had said to a few of the group that I wouldn’t cope too well with this, and each agreed, there was no protecting any of us from what we were about to feel walking into that place.

Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, the former Security Office 21 in “Democratic Kampuchea” was created by the orders of Pol Pot. IN April 17, 1975. Office 21 was called S-21 and designed for the detention and interrogation, inhuman torture, and killing after confession from the detainees were received and documented. From the moment I walked in, I felt it, a tight ball of hard torn hot energy in my chest. I felt sick. Immediately. I’d taken literally ten steps inside the compound.

We stopped at the signpost that framed the circumstances. Pol Pot had tricked the people into highlighting that were doctors, lawyers, teachers or what he had called Intellects and they were all captured and brought to S-21 to be tortured to understand remove them from society. These people were tortured for names of others, or merely because they had been educated or considered a threat to the communist regime.

Nari had cried earlier saying that what these people had gone through was nothing like the days of Hitler, because he didn’t kill his own people. Pol Pot had no regard for his own countrymen. It was all about killing off the strong to have control.

I walked around the grounds solo. I wept constantly. I walked past trees where prisoners, innocent teachers and doctors had been tied and tortured to an inch of their life. The marking on the tress were as if some one had taken an axe to the raw wood, but we knew, I knew, that there had been flesh before the wood was hacked out.

I broke away from the others and took myself to the rooms where there photographs of all the prisoners. I was hung of energy, overwhelmed by the sense that I was actually in the room filled with photos of every single victim killed. Hundreds of them, black and white faces in front me was paralysing my body, yet my face felt tears. There was so much sadness and sorrow in this room, and it wasn’t just mine, it was with every single person alive, walking through that room, not wanting to make eye contact with a living being, lifiting their glaze on to the eyes of the photos.

I wanted to walk out, it was overwhelming, but then I noticed a look on one mans face in a photo. It stoped me. I caught my tears in my throat and walked towards him to look closer. I was intrigued, there was a look of something more than a victim, it was almost a smerk. There was anger in his eyes and defiance in his expression. I sighed, a real “fuck you” expression, actually.

I’m fascinated by micro expressions and what our face really tells what we are feeling. I was compelled to look and wanted to see more “life” in these photos. In fact, most of the men had these looks; it was a look of “you might torture me, you might do inhuman acts to me, but you wont break me”. There was real courage in some of these men’s expressions. My breath drew so much deeper and stronger by seeing this.

Then I looked at the women. You could tell the ones that had been raped and molested. There was a look of shame in most of their eyes, some mixed with anger, so mixed with sadness. There certainly were no real blank expressions, masks maybe, but if you really looked, you could see. Essentially, there was a story on each of their faces, I didn’t need to read about the electrocutions, hangings, tree beatings, and rape or fingernail removals to know they’d been through a living nightmare.

We lunched and moved on to the Killing Fields. Again, I didn’t want to connect with what my head knew would be a horrible experience. Six of us hired a guide. Sitting under a tree beside the shrine of the 9000 skulls that were recovered, we were told that Khmer Rouge were instructed not to waste bullets, rather, these men, woman and children where killed using axes, pickets, rakes and and tree trunks before being kicked into a dug out grave.

The first grave we saw had 486 bodies in it. It was the size of a billiard table. I started to convulse with nausea. I had just read in a book that it was teenagers and boys that were the killers, these kids were brain washed, or forced to do these murders and the vision of these hinaus acts were making me sick to the stomach.

We walked further round the pathways of the fields. There were floods in the near by damn, so to our horror, the bodies were starting to come out of the ground. Clothes, bones and teeth were randomly poking out of the dirt track. They had only recovered 9800 of the 20,000 bodies that were believed to be slaughtered there.

We then came to path where the burial site laid for woman and children. Beside which, stood a mamouth tree, a oak with a wide glorious trunk. I had read about this in the bus on the way there, the young vigilantes would smash the babies heads against the tree trunk and then throw them in the pit. Pol Pot believed that he had to kill the root of the tree, and that meant, to kill the family of the intellects so that no survivors could seek revenge. At the moment, I really could visualise it. Oh. Smash. I didn't want to feel at this point. I didn't want an imagination. Floods of salty water dripped into my mouth again, streaming, my shoulder sunk and my body wanting to turn but so heavy. I wanted to see anything but this.

I turned and there was the “Hanging tree”. This tree was where men that were noisy as there were being killed were hung to silence them. This is not what I wanted to turn to see. My mind rife with imagination- I saw spindly bodies hanging from these magnificent out reaching branches, all blowing in the wind, hanging there. Silent.

At that point, I utterly lost it. I didn’t want to connect with this any more, I wanted denial so much and wanted to be back in that place before I got on the bus, happy with no experience. I was so scared to run because I was afraid that I would tread on burial grounds and for a moment I felt completely trapped.

I am not religious but I said a pray and I asked for forgiveness - so I ran. Back trough the path beyond the hanging tree, out to a wooden seat next to the soda stand. All I could do was curl my body in a babe shape and hug my knees. I was a mess with wetness from tears and streaming snot - I had no tissues left, and all I had to use was my shorts. I felt sick.

These innocent people were killed because they were educated. As I felt sick for the dead, I also felt such remorse for those who had been force to kill, because even if they were not formally brought to justice, they had their own life long penalty of mental anguish and nightmares of what they had done to their fellow countrymen. That in itself would be utter torture to a man corrupted by a force stronger than he.

The whole way back in the bus everyone was silent. No chatter, just very pensive, introspective people, all very shaken, moved by what they’d just seen.

The other side of what I experienced is this – apart from the bloodshed and physical torture, what kept creeping into my mind was this - that in our lives, in our work places and families, this kind of behaviour is prevalent in our every day worlds and we just come to accept it.

Meaning, that we are conditioned to either conform to a culture, a way of life because we are told, “that is just the way it is”. The ever prominent “just because theory” that I talk about often. It is what is because that’s just the way we do things, and common folk fear to have the presence, or the confidence to question, because of the trepidation of exile.

We’re conditioned to it. Society wants us all to be the same. Insurance policies want us all to be married, banks wants us to have a mortgage, families want us married no matter what, companies want us all to fit in to the “culture” and do what we’re told. The government wants us to all conform to regulation for order. And so on….

In so many ways we have people controlling us every day of our lives. It’s so rare that people stand up and say, “you know what, how does a big fat no sound, I’m going to do this……!" And you know what, when one says it, I can assure you, there are a majority of people in that group that all think it, but wont come forward. Condition is what we know. What we know is what we are comfortable with. No matter how awful it might seem. It’s too scary to change. Do you know what I’m saying??

Is the responsibility of being a member of society really democratic?

I got incredibly upset that no greater force such as the United Nations did anything to stop this atrocity. But then I came to realise that forces are greater than what any of us realise. Politics, socialisms, communism, culture, peer pressure, fear, desire, belief, religion. Family. Love.

What about the individual? Nari was the only survivor of her family. She was alone, striving to create a world that was better for her people. She is a survivor.

I always want to say something inspirational at the end of all of my blogs, but for now I'm focused and really care about telling the story.

But here goes; bless the survivors of the world - no matter what you have had to endure, somehow you're not alone.

TBS xx

The other side of building houses in Cambodia

2010-11-11T07:08:00.001-08:00

I’ve just returned from 4 days in Cambodia and to be honest, I’m still processing the whole experience. It was one of those trips that, on paper looked to be pretty incredible, daunting and exhilarating all in one, but it could never be truly understood what it would the genuine impact would be like until I actually was there to touch and feel it first hand.

Here is our story.

A group of us, Bob and Boobette the builders, all went to put together houses, 16 in fact, for a little community an hour’s bumpy ride from Phnom Pehn. The estate we created were shiny rich green-tinned one-roomed Cambodia chalets on stilts. Each with three windows all fitted with the very natural Russian Air conditioning (rush in air) and bamboo flooring throughout. The big glorious green front door (as all Asia front doors should be) opened to a lovely wooden stair case that lead to the playroom down stairs and chill out area, or better known as the best place to rest the hammock.

The Cambodian dream; prime real estate; rice paddies fields out of your left window, the lou shack to your right, the main road close by, the local school upon your back door steps - location, location, location.

At lunch time we would transform ourselves into Santa and his elves and shower the children with presents, balloons, eye masks, pens and texters, rainbow coloured everything, noisy blowy things, more balloons and all sorts of shiny stuff that kiddies dreamed or heard about from other villages. It was Christmas every lunch time for these people.

Then, it’s paparazzi time, happy snaps everywhere with the children, and pucker up buttercup. Snap, snap, snap. Oh how cute, lots of giggles, lots of cuddles and so many of us have fallen in love.

The other side of this story is that as more Bob the builders came year on year, and that the total number of houses built per year had grown from 400 in 1996 to 1053 houses in 2010, the joy of Christmas has become more like the mad rush of the Christmas sales frenzy – everyone desperate to grab or get their hands on something shiny before some one else did.

The angels stopped singing, and the fantasy was cracking a little bit now – the happy faces turned to desperate ones, the kids scratched, the mothers whipped and the elves turned instantly into frightened white volunteers from Singapore. The dusty frenzy to grab that balloon was a sure sign that spirit of giving had naturally created an element of competition amongst our village, innocent, cute brown eyed beloved Cambodian families. If it were Willy Wonker and Chocolate Factory, someone would have fallen into the chocolate lake for sure. It was a little scary to be honest.

The naïve spirit of giving from the white people, from us all, has transformed our harmless people into aggressive snatching animals, clutching to have something materialistic because their community had elevated the value of these giving’s as status maybe? Has our commercialism turned their purity into ugly rivalry? Funny isn’t it, we think we are giving, yet, by our mere hope of philanthropic joy, we have created something far worse. Have we in fact turned these families and children into even more desperate people? Have we forced our inflated importance on material possession on these people? I'm still thinking about this.

Overwhelmed by these unexpected scenes, I stopped to take in what was really happening. These people live on less than a $1 a day, families that shelter their whole extended family in room that is 5M/5M sqm with a rickety door, windows that have no cover from the rain, the house is on stilts so they don’t wash away with the floods, and their feet score from the nailes poking out of the bamboo floors because our builders hammering techniques weren’t so great. Then there is the tin that is like razor blades, and if leant on out a window that hasn’t been nailed flushed against the wood frame, can cut through skin like butter on a hot day. I went to work to hammer the upstanding nails, and push down the tin that was not flush on the window frames. Actually, we all did from my team on that last day.

You know what, the Green tin is a recognition of the work and markings the Tabitha foundation, to represent progress in the community.

Each house cost just under 1000 USD to make with raw materials, and all the family had to do was contribute 40 USD to Tabitha to earn their new abode. Not a bad deal really! Prime real estate.

The extended families I mentioned are as old as I am. I made friends with a traditional dancer who looked about 18 in her photo she showed me, but she was probably more my age now. She had 2 kids, but no husband. There was one old woman there. But the elderly were scarce, they didn’t exist, they were extinct.

These communities were the young generations of Cambodians that were survivors of the Pol Pot regime. These were people were the new world that had lived beyond the hinaus crimes of the Khmer Rouge.

The reality of what these people had been endured was going to be far beyond anyone’s comprehension. Like words on a piece of paper, words like S-21 and the Killing Fields were “titles” I had chosen to block out because I knew they represented pain and blood shed. All until I was faced with the cold hard reality of these from the dawn before.

I will not be alone when I say that I have returned from this journey a slightly different person. Our leader Dougie said on the last night dinner that he would say that we all knew each other better, knew the country better and have learnt so much more about humanity, ourselves, our partners and friends throughout this trip, lessons that none of us would forget. He was right.

My building buddy Bill said, that he believed that this was a time when people were as real as they could be and therefore was the best time and way to get to know people. He was right, it was such a raw experience for all of us. Each and every person on this trip at some point came away with a new friend, or bond that we will cherish.

It’s incredible how in the face of diversity and hardship, or rawness of life’s cruelties, we get in touch with our real love for human nature and find ourselves drawn to the noble need to nurture. To nurture our friends, our families, our partners, our loved ones, our new found friends less fortunate and finally remembering for ourselves.

Like I said, I haven’t quite reconciled this experience yet, and maybe I wont until I do it again. But I will say this; help those that are not as strong or fortunate as you. You don’t have to build a house, or give them stuff that is commercial, you can simply extend a simple olive branch, but in your own special way, you can give back. It’s really simple.

Lots of warm and fuzzy.

TBS

xxx

P.s - Thank you to every one that supported this trip. You will never be forgotten.

I have written a separate blog about the trip to S-21 and Killing Field

The other side of a kiss that changes life as you know it

2010-06-17T08:40:00.000-07:00

When we say hello, it’s generally laced with a kiss! Aussies kiss hello once on the check, English twice on each cheek, the Dutch three times, and good god I get giddy! But, don’t you think it’s nice that we greet each other with a kiss hello?

Who doesn’t like to kiss? Unless you have fish lips, are a porn star, or Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, for whom a kiss is too personal, I don’t know anyone who doesn’t like to get a smooch on! Fair play, none of us like to pucker up for those lips that don’t appeal or are stuck to a face that is less than attractive, or laced with a foreign surprise on the corners, hiding grotty teeth or death breath! But for when they are attached to the face of someone that makes you feel warm and fuzzy, a kiss can change life as you know it.

I was sitting in Soho in London one spring day having a drink with my friend Matty, it was late afternoon and the theatre opposite had just finished playing the “Muma Mia” Matinee, when an old couple who must have been in their early 80’s, walked out arm in arm, looking wistful and bouncing as they strolled together. Matty and I commented on how content they looked, and we toasted “to a good and healthy life”. At that very moment, as if on Que, the old man stopped, twirled his beloved (almost in her mid stride) to draw her towards him her, tummy to tummy, and gently rose his hands to caress her face and kiss her.

Oh, it was beautiful and stolen moment. It was not ours, but it stopped us completely, glasses still charged, we both sighed, looking, gazing, as the old lovebirds kissed, embracing each other, then stopping to fall in love with each others look, as they kiss again.

They walked on hand in hand, Matty and I still breathless, and then Matty said, “wait look”, he had stopped again, pulling her up against him this time with an elderly man vigor , yet it was so graceful. Repeating his manly way. Randy old man! It was magnificent; we could see her body give way to him, slightly melting into his arms, her head falling as he held her and kissed her. Oh, as I write this, I can still feel that wonderful feeling; it was such a moment. It was like watching an old black and white movie in modern day. That experience for me, was a kiss that changed my life, even though it was not mine, it was a kiss that I would fantasize about having myself one day!

I remember practicing kissing at boarding school on our teddies! I wonder if our boyfriends at school thought those kisses would ever change their lives forever? Nervous, very wet, or desperately loose tongues from the boys (they didn’t have teddies), regardless, they are all very fond memories. These were the kisses that I knew at the time, and let’s face it we all have to start somewhere and learn how to use these luscious puppies!

For a lot of us, we’ve experience a kiss that has changed our life forever. Meaning, a kiss that has changed our plans, opened the door to a new experience, or marked the beginning of a new life with someone. In many cases, a kiss has taken us to the place when ask our dearest friends and family to share a moment when we say, “yes, I do”. I’m going to a wedding next weekend in the UK to witness this very moment for some special friends that I can definitely say life changed as they knew it when they first kissed… two people that grew up 9 miles down the road from each other in Devon. But would never meet until they both moved to work (together as luck would have it) in Singapore some 30 years on. That first kiss, at a ball one December, was truly meant to happen. They are the lovebirds that warm the cockles of your heart. Truly, these two people that make you want to pucker up and kiss spontaneously when you’re around them. Anyone got a teddy bear handy?! Bless you Roy and Karen, may you have a life of love and happiness together.

Lips are amazing really when you think about it – these soft, pink, luscious parts of our face are highly tuned, sensitive yet incredibly useful tools! For when they are presented to another, they can have such persuasive ways, they are a magnet for human to human connection. The look, the touch, the curl or form, all can have a sense of power over the two people that are engaged in their positioning.

A pout can say, “I’m up for it!” A protruding bottom lip can say, “kiss me more, don’t stop, if you kiss me again, the sides will curve with joy”. And then, there is a glorious smile that curls up so nicely towards the ears, that tells you, “hmm, yes please, that was just lovely!” Hey, and let’s face it - they are the “on button” to the lovely hot bits as well!

The other side of a kiss hello is those that bid goodbye. Again, we kiss once, twice, three times, or hold each tightly and prolong that wonderful soft touch, sharing the final moment that we have together, connected as human to human, tummy to tummy, heart to heart. The last kiss till we see each other again. But don’t say goodbye, just say, “we’ll see you again soon!”

Slow passionate kissing or hot yummy sultry pashing? All have their place really. Personally I have quite a thing about kissing on a bridge! There is something that ignites the “you and me” connection and I can’t explain why. That being said, I haven’t been kissed on a bridge for as long as I can remember!

Whether it is a cute kiss of awakening, a Dutch dizzy one, an eighties something passionate embrace, or having to endure a wet sloppy monotone one to keep you waiting simply until that day when your lips go bang with a melting moment, and life does change as you know it!

Maybe when I get kissed on that bridge one day, I’ll write about how my life has changed!

Pucker up buttercup!

Cheers

TBS

The other side of the laws of attraction

2010-06-10T08:09:00.000-07:00

Janet Jackson sang, “Like a moth to the flame, burnt by the fire....” no no no, I say drawn by desire!

When we see something we like, we gravitate towards it. Whether a man with hot guns, a woman with great norgs (boobs), a new special friend, the titillation of an adventure yet touched, a challenge to get your blood pumping or even something as simple as a cold drink by a pool in the hot sun; the laws of attraction are scientific, it’s beyond our control. This kind of “stuff” just happens in way that we can’t explain it. Just meant to be!?

You know the saying, “Like attracts like”. So I thought about how does like actually find like?

I believe we all have “signs on our heads” like a shop front sign. It’s the image that you project outwards to tell the world what you’re all about or feeling at that particular time in your life, that sends a message to the other; who, if has the same level of “stuff” going on, is drawn to look more closely at your shop front sign.

This façade we hold can change, many many times in fact, it’s totally up to you and your colours at the time really. Regardless, there is a sign that says something to someone else…. always….and there starts the attraction…

When humans are drawn to each other’s “shop fronts” it means you have the same level of “differentiation”. Meaning, you have the same “stuff” going on, whether it be hanging on to the past, similar backgrounds, an interest that draws you together, like-mindness that is just being discovered, or loving of exuding the same energy – there is something very similar about you that draws you together.

I’ve experienced and been privileged to witness a lot this law of attraction stuff recently; which I have to say, has been rather lovely.

Like any shop open for business, I’ve always maintained, that we too have got to be “open to it” to draw in the good customers to our stores! The other side to this is, if you’re closed off, what are you attracting? You draw those that are also “closed off”. Or if you’re holding negative energy, can you see that you are attracting negativity in return? Have you ever complained that you don’t like something in someone that is close by you… in the laws of attraction, this generally means that they are representing something that you don’t like in yourself! Think about it. It’s like a mirror almost.

I'll put it plainly - when your shop light isn’t on you can attract mood hovers! Then before you know it, your conversation really does turn to glass half full. It’s like a cancer, it spreads, and you find yourself criticising everything that everyone else did and how they are “doing that to you”. The reality is, you’re doing it to yourself. Pure and simple, you’re creating a situation that keeps you in the “non like” space.

What attracts us? Like I said in the last blog, someone that may inspires us, or possibly something that is more fundamental than that. I guess it depends on whether it’s a physical or emotional attraction doesn’t it?

Physical attraction is very sensory. It can be an instant look from across the room, a shape of an arm, watching a mouth curl upwards, or eyelash closing heavily in front of you as if in slow motion, but in a flick of an eye it’s reality. Remember that whiff of perfume you caught, that soft brush of skin on skin, finger tips just touching as you exchange, your feet touching under a table that gives a you knowing look of an eye - all of these sensory nerves are heighten as your eyes dilate, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as your body subtly tingles, nipples change shape, crotches heat up and all in a split second from what has been created by your sign saying something to the other person!

The other side of the laws of attraction is the physical can also have the reverse effect on some of us! Have you ever experience your body temperature rising, your brow starts to glow as does the tip of your nose (like mine does at times), then goes the palms of your hands, your body becomes sullen and your shoulders turn slightly inwards because this attraction is just too much to bare! Anxiety creeps in, yet, excitement really does lie beneath. There is a rush of blood going through your system, you simply can’t help it, where is the temperature control? How has started your heart started to trip to a different beat! Come come, it’s just the laws of attraction playing with you.

More often than not, if it’s happening to you, it’s happening the other person as well. It’s whether or not you can see that and over your own anxiety. Remember, like attracts like. But if it’s not that, it may be that you need to adjust the focus on what you see verses what is really on the shop front sign before you. It’s happened to me many times, but my excuse is that I’m blind, and I’m maintaining that one! Regardless of the need for an eye test, lift your head and take a good look at what’s in front of you again – hindsight never hurt anyone!

I think it’s universal that alcohol can be the numbing of all anxiety when it comes to the laws of attraction. It’s the antidote to break down all barriers.

How many times have you been able to lift your head faster to return the gaze after your third glass of Chardy, Pint or Martini? Your choice of poison is often the key to open the door once someone likes the look of the sign on your shop-front. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit my friend Martini hasn’t been the locksmith that sits on my shoulder and says “come on lady, get amongst it, love the chemistry whilst you’re in the moment, and let go!”

The little tipple has given me hours of confidence at times. For even the most outwardly confident of us in the world have insecurities too and have hot flushes of anxiety when there is a hot blooded attraction in front of you. There is that moment of “this person has something, they really have something that I like….”. And trust me, they are thinking the same thing about you. Do trust me on that one.

Now whether that “like attracts like” is a moment in time, an eye flutter, a flirtation to keep energy in a situation alive, a stolen kiss, a one night shag, a life long “maybe”, or a life long partner, is totally up to you both. All serves a purpose. What do they say, for a season, a reason or a lifetime!

The other side of the laws of attraction I also said was the emotional, which I believe is a drawing of minds. A connection that can have more fundamental impact on our lives. A nonsexual connection that can open up some locked shop doors, or in real terms, open our eyes to a new vision, or ability to choose which path to take at the fork in the road.

To have both physical and emotional attraction is pretty wonderful – and I’m sure a lot of you have experienced that. But I honestly believe these connections are gifts that we give each other. Friendships, soul mates, guiding lights in the night, healers, and strangers that offer the golden nuggets of insight that you may just need one day; all answering what our shop front signs are saying or asking of the world!

I recently decided my shop front needed a good old revamp – a welcomed change of the façade I'd say. I swept the front door of the leaves, I cleaned up the cobwebs, soften the edges, brighten the colour, put some cozy chairs out front of the wide opened doors, the sign was shiny and attractive again, emotionally and physically. I'd created space for new “stuff” to be welcomed in. Actually I dumped a lot of shit in that spring clean - I’d highly recommend it. My shop front sign was on high beam! ....and.... hey presto..... once uncertain about my career, I’m now happy and at peace with my choices, once feeling isolated in this town, I feel so unbelievably loved and welcomed, attracting some likeminded very special friends that have held my hand and made me laugh so so much – and, I’ve opened myself to the new and well, we all love a good romance story… get this…....my eyes have widened, my heart has skipped a beat and my smile is so incredibly wide, my ears are tickled… I met someone really lovely. Go figure! Like attracts like! We'll see....

I think I should start a business called “What’s your sign”….. maybe I could possibly help a lot people get the right messages out there!!!

What does the sign on your shop front say today?

Cheers,

TBS

p.s – I wrote this blog in Thailand, and I unfortunately left my SLR camera at the Phuket airport. When I realised on the plane what I'd done, my darling friend Karen said to me “don’t worry, laws of attraction, it will come back to you”. She had no idea I’d written this blog. So I put it out there and I believed in what she said. I thought it was a sign. And you know what, it did. I got a call a day later from Singapore airport saying that they had my camera! You have to love the laws of attraction, it’s just the way it is!

The Other Side of Inspiration

2010-05-10T09:00:00.000-07:00

I wonder as you get older do your forms or sources of inspiration change?

I realise that our senses and tastes change, differ become more refined or in tune with who we are and what we want, but I’ve been thinking about inspiration today and here’s what I think.

Does inspiration mean motivation? And therefore does motivation come from within or can it be drawn from an outside source, like a lover, a leader, a teacher, a brother or a friend? Or self?

Do we have the capability to find inspiration on our own, or do we need outside influence to draw out what we have within?

A friend wrote on Facebook yesterday, “I’m in search of inspiration”. It made me smile because at the very time, I was researching poetry on the web of the old greats used to write. I was looking for inspiration for my writing, inspired by a modern day film, a love story in fact that made reference to Beethoven’s letters to his beloved… and it made me think that inspiration comes in all forms, a modern day story with an olden day twist! Nice.

What I see is that we mere mortals are inspired by all sorts. I guess it comes down to where you are in your life at the moment in time, right?

Some find inspiration from a lovers kiss, a motivational book on "how to", or another’s victory, motivated to win against a competitor to prove their value and status in their world, for a sense of achievement. Some a sportsman on the field, "SCORE", or a millionaire in play, or as simple as a mate losing his beer gut before you in the biggest loser competition! Or, it can come from the motivation by a night time chat that makes you think about possibilities in life that you’ve never really thought could be a reality because of, well, because of "the just because theory”. Meaning, we do that, “just because”… that’s the way it’s always been.

I think inspiration is an amazing emotion really. It is an opening of thought and recognition of possibility or energy that you’d maybe lost touch with or in some cases, never really afforded yourself before.

Therefore is the other side of inspiration, that it comes from outside of the safe place that we all know and hold tight to, or make excuses to cling on to because it’s the place that we’ve become most comfortable with – so therefore, to differ is outside of the norm and therefore not safe?

Or is inspiration a treat that we allow ourselves to experience as a high, yet we struggle to maintain it, so when it dissipates, we feel low and unbalanced and then wonder why we did “that thing” in the first place - the thing that inspiration possibly took us to?

How many times have you seen a motivational speaker that has inspired you to look outside the box, to think big, to touch high and wide and pursue the dreams and the desires you’ve always wanted…. Then, surged out with gusto and gone after that “thing” only to find in a month, or two, or six, you’ve forgotten what that high was all about and asked yourself, “….how did that person phrase it again?”

I find, that inspiration comes from individuals we meet that touch us, that move us and provoke thought, then the masses take it away from us. Does that make sense?

Now I’ll rephrase that, and tell you the other side – we find inspiration in people and experiences that lift us to a place that we see apart of ourselves in, a part that we’ve always wanted to be, become, or thought we could. For in that person we see an element of our self belief, or the one that our subconscious does rather, and that’s why we are so attracted to and associate that “high” with such experience, engagement or encounter. Then, we stop, and we allow society, culture, or the patterns of our lives to take a stronger hold of our way of life – therefore the high can become unsustainable.

That is, unless, you decide to change you. Or find out who you really are in that moment of inspiration, and motivate yourself to find the tools, discipline or desire to learn more about that “you” that you’ve touch and felt, even only for a moment, or an hour, of day and so on. But you were conscious in that moment.

An old mentor used to say to me, "find someone that inspires you and model yourself on the traits and behaviours of that person and see what you create". I liked that theory, I have used that method for a long time – I now see what others that "I see myself in” do, and I copy that trait but apply my own flare or style, and then it becomes mine!

I find when you’re open to inspiration it comes to you in waves, massive waves, it’s just being brave enough to get the surf board out and ride it baby, not give up after you’ve been dunked, and say, “holy shit that’s way too urgent for me”. Rather, embrace the thrill and new look of it, and don’t ever say, “no way, I can’t do that”. Because I say, "bullshit to that, yes you can, we all can". But it’s all about what you really want.

It might not be a wave you’re after, it might be calm shallow waters, what ever the analogy that works for you – but what ever it is, get in the water, it’s refreshing, it can wake you up, give you shivers right to core, and when all of the masses are getting out, hold on, just wait, your body temperature soon adjusts and you’re swimming, or catching your wave and you don’t even realise it. And it is, honestly, really amazing. But, I am sure you know what I mean. You've touched it before right!

I truly believe, when you seek it, it does come. Whether it is from a call from a friend telling you of a recent triumph, a new baby born, a tale of a heart won, weight lost, steps taken, words spoken, a poem sent, eyes opened, minds made up, balance found, a moment with a lover, or something as simple as a “yes”. All can produce or promote a lift, a smile or an energy in you that you exude outwards, and then what magically happens, as others watch you, is the creation of inspiration begins again.

Think about it.

Cheers,

TBS

P.S - The poem that I found inspiration in yesterday was this, a letter Ludwig Van Beethoven wrote to his Immortal beloved.

Letter 1

Good morning, July 7

My thoughts go out to you, my immortal beloved

I can live only wholly with you or not at all

Be calm my life, my all. Only by calm consideration of our experience can we achieve our purpose to live together

Oh continue to love me, never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved.

Ever thine

Ever mine

Ever ours

The other side of Who are you in the Zoo?

2010-05-06T08:17:00.000-07:00

I’ve decided that I no longer parade on show in Big Brother, I now live in the zoo! On show for the masses in a wild kingdom of the locked up zoo! I’ve been sitting in chained up in a room where the transformation from the Big Brother to the barnyard or zookeeper took place.

It all started with a group of us coming together to discuss how we would win the affections of a cat and what she’d been up to. The first voice starts and says, “I think the cat sat on the mat”. The next says, “you know what, I actually think the cat was black and wore some stunning pearls and then she sat on the mat”. Then the next says, “no, the cat did a black flip and a double pike and then she say on the mat” and then the deep voice says “folks, come on, she had her pearls on, yes back flipped, she can do that when ever she pleases and you didn’t notice that she twirled her little but off, turned and winked saying, “don’t give me jam tomorrow”, then and only then, she sat on the god damn mat”.

Harrumph, we’re agreed! Yes, yes that’s it. Pat, pat, pat, we’re all happy and the pretty little kitty sat on the mat. Don’t you find, that people in life repeat what others say so they have a voice, or have some resemblance of presence?

One would think that this much attention would have our cat licking her lips, the butter and the jam off her pores, grinning at us like a Cheshire…. but unfortunately, the problem was, no one had seen a cat in days! For there were no cats in sight, just a lot of animals talking about what they wanted the cat to do. (Sounds like a boys golf trip gone wrong and ended up in the Sahara Dessert, rather than Thailand!)

As all the guys were getting excited about how they could frame or choreograph how our little kitty was going to pucker up and curl on up on this glorious matt of ours (as that was pretty much the only thing that they collective agreed on), I started to giggle about my little rhythm, and as most healthy minds do, mine started wondering. Hmm, the cat, sitting on a the mat – hmm, I started looking across the pen; "no, he’s not a cat, no, he wont sit down if he was told to sit on a mat, ah, he might, ah, wait, no, wait, I’m not sitting in a room of cats, I’m sitting in a room with a collection of the animal kingdom!"

Oh wow, this was fun; the sides of my mouth started to curl and for the first time in the cat hunt, I got a little giggle on inside. I’d created my own little game. You’ve heard of bullshit bingo, but that was so March 2004… so it’s time to create a new game, and I shall call this – “Who are you in my Zoo?”

Then just like magic, there they are – all the faces, instantly transformed and all with wonderful characteristics of the beautiful wild. Or tame, or not so as some cases may be. The Raccoon, the Bear Cub, the Silver fox, but actually he’s not a Fox (as in my type of fox) he’s more a Labrador. Mr Mole; my smile widens and I’m showing a cheeky grin and I bite my lip. This is fun; I’m thinking about “Toad at Toad Hall”, absolutely brilliant book and story as a child. Then, there is the Horse, the Panda, the Jersey cow, the Hamster, the Joey, the Tarsier, the Goose, the Hippo, the Deer, the Snow Wolf, the Peacock and then there’s me, the Lioness.

The animal kingdom in the zoo, but something was missing. I looked around and we had no lion. There was no ruler of our kingdom, so the animals were wild and unsettled and every one from Pharr Lap, to the Tarsier, to the Hippo and even the Raccoon were having a crack and making noises to bid for the top spot.

Wayhay, move aside bullshit bingo, step right up animals are us!

And even when the voices were raised, there was just a lot of noise – you see it’s pretty tough to get a group silence when there is a chorus of swarks, nays, twits, meeks, burrs, grrrs, or purs all trying to be louder than the other. On the other hand, if there were an almighty roar of a Lion, you wouldn’t here a peep, I would imagine, only a fart slipped out from the Goose’s anxiety! But, there would unison and a knowing from the kingdom that all will be ok.

In our children’s books we learn that the king of the kingdom is the Lion, in Africa, we are taught that as well, on the stage “The Lion King” tells the tale beautifully – so we are preconditioned that generally in life the strongest, most poised, most powerful man is the lion and the ruler. He is a leader, hiss stride and his presence commands the respect and what comes is a natural assembly of all. It is a birth right, a certainty that garners support so easily through his wise and magnetic ways. The natural balance of the wild in return offers the animals a sense of harmony amongst the kingdom. Everyone knows where they’re supposed to be and the roles they play.

Now, I have been called the Lioness before, and in fact, it was an apt description for my zoo game. There I was, amongst the masses, feeding and making sure they had their daily bread (a fridge stocked with fresh food) and the cubs were doing their duties and the animals were all keeping some form of respect in the kingdom…. all focused on the agenda at hand. However, it must be said, I was really missing a Lion in this game. (Probably a good thing actually, because I would have probably wanted to jump his bones; after all, that would only be natural remember!)

The role of the Lioness is to sit back and watch and respect the male testosterone and need for the stage. She is the strength behind the Lion, yet when he’s absent, she plays the role of silent keeper until the masses get out of line and then, and only then, will you hear her roar! In an atmosphere of pheromones and testosterone going wild, she’ll watch and observe until feels it’s needed and absolutely necessary. No one speaks over the lioness when she has something to say! And in this game, when she roared, the animals were still, just for that moment. ROAH!

The other side of this is - Does every male animal really want to be the proverbial Lion? No I don’t think so. But I do see some animals thinking about it, and wondering what it would be like. Or, does the kingdom need to change in the new world? I couldn’t help but wonder; would the Lion, being a cat himself, know how to actually find the cat and create a space for her to curl up on the mat and purr with happiness? Or can we win a cat hunt and have harmony without him?

Next time you get a little distracted, have a look around, you will see that your group all have features of creatures of the wild! Whether or not this seen in a “board-room” or just from “bore-dom” and a slightly “wild” imagination, regardless, trust me, take a different look, I was having a hilarious time and my grin couldn’t hide it!

What animal do you look like?

Cheers,
TBS

The other side of Whooah there Silver

2010-04-05T10:20:00.000-07:00

I’ve had my oldest friend Catherine and her darling son Angus staying with me this last week. I’ve loved it, no; I needed it, so much more than I really understood. It was a week of revisiting the bond that two young girls made back in boarding school together, now coming back together again as woman, all right at the most perfect time.

Her son Gus, 6 months old, of course fell in love with me. Well, I fell madly in love with him. His smile made me light up so bright inside, and when he cried and I went to him and he suddenly stopped and the corners of his mouth curled so widely, grabbing his dimples on the way to his ears, I felt so much love and warm. You’d say we were all a bit giddy, so many giggles, cuddles, love and warm and fuzziness – Catherine stopped at one point, and with almost a look of just for a moment of heart break said,

“Why can’t we remember how much we were loved when we were this age?”

I haven’t been writing much lately, I’ve been stopping and starting a lot, some might say it’s writers block, but I know it’s because I’ve been feeling really blocked about some other “hard emotional” stuff that came up recently with Judith, that like I’ve mentioned before, rocked me somewhat. But because I decided I didn’t want to live it every day, I blocked it out. Shut it all down, and in the process, shut a large part of me down too. It’s amazing how long you can run a car, the gauge on the empty for a while; and I’ve always been the type to see how far this baby will go with out filling up, or a service.

My vehicle, my body, always let’s me know when the empty light is flashing hard. I’ve got so good at keeping it going on the empty warning, just for a wee bit longer, or just enough so I can take a new route or go somewhere completely different, because maybe, just maybe I’ll find some new wave fuel (encounter) that will fill me up! And, then generally I do - just fill up, in the nick of time.

I took a big turn and got involved in something really new and exciting and yes, this path kept my little motor purring for a while. Lots of fuel for Flowers here! I didn’t have to think about any emotional stress, what, what was the “hard stuff”, I can’t remember, I don’t want to, all I want to see signs for on this path is, “I want, I want, I want, I want….”. Never ever any signs to direct me to “get real Gloversville” or “Stop and smell the roses, Flowers”, or here’s one that I speed past a lot “Hey, I’m not so shiny today”.

No, you see for on this path, a strong man is giving me wonderful new directions, and marvellous distractions on what I could be doing, and the type of driver I could be; consuming my thoughts night and day, in every way. But, even I know I now need to see a sign that reads, “Whooah there Silver!”.

When you have a car accident, you can always get a paint job, knock out the dints and be all brand new again. Or in my case, have plastic surgery a nose job and be stitched back up again, and her presto all brand new. But the other side of all of this, just like the chassis of a car, the body also remember trauma and leaves internal scars. A real logbook of a car will tell you just how many times the body has been hit and repaired from damage, yet our bodies don’t show that to the outside world. But internally, there is log; many of us, just aren’t conscious of it. But let me assure you, the body does remember, and eventually it will show you.

The car choked last week, in the brink of my fabulous driving, blonde hair flowing in the wind, I discovered a lump under my arm. A rather large lump, painful and actually quiet scary. Catherine had arrived just this day, so it was almost like it was ok for the car to stall, because she’d know how to pick me up and make sure I got home.

My darling mechanic, Doctor Shiv, tells me it’s not life threatening, but is due to emotional stress, causing the glands to react, it’s called “lymphatitis”. No new fuel would fix this one, (even though I did try a fair amount called “Chardonnay” with Catherine) it was warning to reduce the stress in my life otherwise the car would be having scans on my head lights for the rest of my life. I just can be dealing with life without lights - the path needs to be bright and girls must lead the way!

Catherine left on Thursday and today I’ve found another infection reaching up in my neck and ears. The funniest thing is, I left work today jesting that it was nothing that some good old drugs (and what would also be a jab in my back tyre later) couldn’t fix. Ok, stop jesting, and take me past the road sign of “Get real Glover” again please.

All of our senses are integral to how the our world is perceived. The brain processes perceptions and stores them as thoughts, emotions, images, sensations and behavioural impulses. The most toxic of these is anger. It can lay dormant, but it can be the harshest of all impulses we have when it eventually cracks a leak. Actually the process of the brain memory is similar to a computer chip in a Tom Tom navigation System, punching in routes to travel, which call all be temporary, which is akin to memory storage, unless it’s saved, and that information lies dormant until retrieved by reopening that route address. But like my attempt to drive in Singapore today, even with the right address it’s hard to locate sometimes. That is, unless there is a trigger, or you hit the same bump again and again until you can’t do anything but acknowledge that place you’ve arrived at. I think this is where I got stuck.

I’ve learnt, I can drink many a martini, I can eat gourmet meals, I can take up smoking Vogues again, and I can get involved in titillating, electrifying and inexplicable relationships and call it all a distracting drive in my car, but the signs just get bigger – “Whooah there Silver”.

Maybe I will start looking out for the signs “tip toe through the tulips” for a change. Yeah, I think I want to get out and walk for a while. How boring, or actually not, the trips in the car are becoming a bit tired to be honest, it’s all fantasy stuff and not too much reality going on. Good God Maria, how old am I?

That week with Catherine reminded me to remember. As once we were girls, we were now woman who have loved each other like sisters, and whom speak honestly and freely and it be very safe. For years, we’ve been two inherently different woman, ironically, both wishing we had a little bit more of what the other person possessed. We covered a lot of ground, many topics, laughter and tears, all perfectly scripted to leave me with some sensible perspective on life. It’s amazing what can come out of dialogue from the eyes of a woman that made choices and the other from the woman who’s eyes had too many choices.

...and if little Gusy grows up and forgets his first big trip overseas, he will never forget the stories we share and warm and fuzziness lived on the trips we take in my car, no doubt there.

So, the other side of this is I’ve found a nice place to rest my car for a while. The grass between my toes will feel lush, just for a while, as and we all know I’ll never give up my wheels! Beyond getting through the hard stuff, there is way too much good stuff out there that I am still yet to touch and feel, top down and hair blowing in the wind. Maybe, if I remove some of the road blocks, the next path I journey along will cater for a whole new set of adventures…...and one thing is for certain, you know I’ll write about it!

Do you know what, I saw a big red road-block on the other side of the road at the end of my street with initials “TBS” painted on them like graffiti! It made me chuckle, I love signs!

Fleur
TBS

p.s - and there will always be light along the way! ;-)

The other side of translation

2010-03-17T11:55:00.000-07:00

What do they say; men are from Mars, woman are from Venus? I think it goes a step further, I think we all talk different languages, and I’m not referring to French or Italian or Big Sheila.

I have a French business associate who until tonight, I didn’t understand his ways, or what he was really saying in our exchanges. His language in business is different to mine and at times we’ve had misunderstandings. That is, until tonight, St Paddy’s day, a Frog and a Big Sheila came together for a beer to talk a different language. What I would call “Human”.

We all use different turns of phrase to get our point across. I have my own special phrases that I’m well known for…
“Urgent” is definitely one of them – it means, when something is just a bit “out there” or over the top, or too much for some one to bare.
“Warm and Fuzzy” is another, which means, when things are just great, or I want you to know that I’m sending you love, or I’m loving what is going on.
“Good God Maria” is not necessarily religious, but it means, a slightly more Big Sheila “OMG”.

So many different nuances that all make up my “talk”. And you all have your own, or maybe they’re not words, they’re actions, or silly behaviour that all mean something…. To you, or to me, but we’re all supposed to “get it” because we know, or think we do.

I sat with my friend Dave recently talking about the difference between men and women and what we hear and don’t hear. Fascinating stuff really. I recalled a situation with a man who I thought was doing X and he said, “God no, Fleur, he’s saying Y, can’t you see that?”

I sat in a fishbowl with 16 men recently (yes I was the only woman) and I was debriefing with one of the big fish that was sharing his views on what one of the fish were doing in the session. His observations was definitely X, and until I shared that there was more M-N-O-P involved; because at my side of the fishbowl, the swimming action was so more peaceful and contented than what he saw at the top of the bowl, we agreed that there was no cause for concern of an X.

You say, "Tomato", I say, "Tomarto".
You say, "err blurr blurr, oui oui", I say, "ok got it"
I say, "yeah man", you say, "absolutely hate that"
I say, "cat got your tongue?", you say, "nup, I was born with one, just don’t wanna speak to you!"
I say, "you up for this?", you say, "yes"…. But mean no.

So many expressions, which can, to one, or someone else, be taken the right or wrong way.

People tell you what they want you to hear, because they don’t want to create a situation or maybe even hurt you. I’ve had someone say to me, “No I’m not going to marry that person”, but he knew they absolutely were. But they used that language because they didn’t want me to hurt me.....more than the reality of what was really going to happen? Or was it, that they didn’t know how to tell me in “human” language, “I’m getting married”.

Or when people say “I’m going to leave them for you”, but then their behaviour is completely the opposite to that piece of dialogue. There is always something that gets in the way, Easter, birthday, school, a wedding, and a holiday…. We all know some one that has been through this kind of translation problem.

The other side of translation is looking for the signs of what people do to back up their dialogue. Actions translate so well don’t you think?

So many expressions, different languages, different use of words, intonation, suggestion, or poor articulation all causes the end meaning, of what you hear, to be up for interpretation. You think X, they are saying Y and then the result is Z. Who wants Z? It’s the dud, the end, and the worst of the entire alphabet.

Until you might stop and ask - “What do you really mean? What do you want?”.
When someone tells you they don’t’ know, it means, they’ve made a decision. Indecision is a decision. Plain and simple.

I’ve sat with some new and very wonderfully coloured people in these last three days – and every-one of them spoke a different language. It’s been fascinating to listen to, watch and be a part of.

Financial
Frustrated
French
Furious
Cantonese
Curious
Shock factor
Fabulous
And unspoken

So many different languages and shades of human expression to translate; I don’t speak Mandarin, Italian, French or otherwise… Big Sheila is about all I do – but I can say, I’ve developed my vocabulary tremendously over these last few days. I’ve learnt a lot.

We can speak with tongues, action or our inaction. The other side of all of this, and this what I’m beginning to really love about life; is this - be open to hear it or if you’re a little hard of hearing as you get on in life, look for it. We can all become really healthy translators.

What do you want to hear?

Fleur
TBS

The Other Side of Feedback

2010-03-16T09:52:00.000-07:00

I remember getting a report card from Boarding House mistress when I’m 14 saying I was an over zealous young lady and if I spent as much time on my studies as I did prancing around the boarding house singing and dancing I might just get some where in life. I distinctly remember thinking, BITCH, and wiped her off my favourite’s list. It was feedback that I couldn’t process very well at age 14. What’s more, the reality is, she didn’t say “I might just get somewhere in life”, what was written was “I might just achieve some significant grades at school”. She actually thought I was a very intelligent young woman with a lot of promise, and in her own way, was trying to encourage me to study to develop myself so I had choices in life. At age 14, I didn’t hear or see that, all I saw were criticisms.

Feedback, it’s such a powerful thing to have in your life, even when you think it’s bad, it’s good in many ways.

It is ratings appraisal time in the Big Brother House (my work) and everyone is looking for ratings contribution to pass to their Producer to say, “See, this is what I’ve contributed to this show this season”. Which like for all of us, has been an incredibly tough, grueling year to get good ratings through.

I’ve had about five house-mates send me requests asking for some words about how we’ve interacted in the house and what observations I can share about their performance. These rating reviews are all due at the end of this month, so of course, people are eager to secure places for next season and get paid on last seasons takings. I’ve been a little busy with my own ratings reviews lately, so I’ve not responded in a timely manner to my house-mates, which I must apologize for, because all of these people have actually had a significant bearing on my happiness and rating results in the Big Brother House.

Pretty selfish really, because when I asked them to help me win a challenge, or just find where the Loo paper is stored in this house, they were all there, reaching out with arms to make my day in front of the cameras special.

The other side of being selfish was my rating reviews were distracting me. My brother wrote in with some pretty scathing words for me to digest. In fact, it actually rocked me to my core. It was his perception on how the world perceived me, laced with some hefty and outrageous threats if I joined the Australian House hold any time soon. I was absolutely devastated; in my mind, I thought I would always have a place back in that household. It seemed not. His perception of me, in his words, was reality.

I guess this was reality TV after all, all raw and out there for all to make judgment. Ratings from people that you think you can rely on is super important, I think that is universal for all house-mates actually. So when one of your fans turns and tells you he’s always thought you were crap in your life performance, you start to feel the pressure of what the cameras can do to people in life. It really hits a nerve when viewers see what they want to see, or rather the cameras only show one angle of you, which might well be your bad side, and then your stereotype cast with it for life.

Is perception really reality? Is what someone or one person thinks of us the reality of whom and how we really are? I think not. It’s taken me a lot of soul searching this last week, and a tremendous amount of tears off the set, to realize that one man’s perception of me is from his lenses, or old footage that has lost it’s context in relation to the scenes played out today.

We do things in life that people judge, react poorly to or simply don’t understand why we’ve done it. So they, with the tools that they have at that moment in time, make an assessment of this situation, negative or otherwise, and for most people, that assessment is the blue print of what really lies beneath their opinion of you.

I chose to reach out to those viewers my brother referenced to support his rating review of my character, to ask them did they feel this strongly about me as a house-mate? Whilst I did not buy in to the heckle shouted from my brother, after some reflection I thought it was wise to ask for some honest feedback from these viewers, who I knew had also had turns in the house, so understood the pain of the heckling, yet maybe I didn’t see that they too were all standing in my blindside?

It made me think about some feedback a house-mate of mine Cubby, gave me when I first moved to Big Brother Asia. I’d been in the house for about a month, all enthusiastic and full of beans wanting to start a new life and get right into the action inside. Then one night, he took me aside and told me that I needed to calm down because I was scaring people. In my own words, he described me as being a little too urgent. This was valuable feedback. At the time, I was not a happy camper, and felt utterly deflated, thinking to myself, “Christ every one really is watching”. Fortunately, in months to come, it would become apparent that this was what happening. I was scaring the beejezus out of people. This is Big Brother Asia, and a 6ft+ loud Aussie bird that is slightly a bit too direct with my own feedback, was crossing all the boundaries and rules of this beautiful Big Brother show. I had to learn how to give face in the house. Very different rules in the Big Brother house in Oz let me tell you. Face? What the heck is that? In Australia, it’s all about get your “game face” on, and get on out there - but nooooo, not in this house hold. It was going to be long season.

My mother always says, when things aren’t going well for you, do something good for some one else and it will always change how you feel. So I set out to write my requested “feedback” statements to help my fellow house-mates.

I truly believe in life we just don’t compliment each other enough. You know, like telling some one you think they’re a beautiful person, and it doesn’t mean you want anything from them or get them into bed. Just because you can! And you believe it.

On Sunday night, I lay in my bed, and wrote a rating reference for my house-mate Cubby. I thought I would share it with you. I’m going to send it to some senior Producers in Big Brother too; there is some talk they might not renew his contract next season for the Asia show, as apparently there is some new gig in another region that that they think he’ll do well in. They’ve got it all wrong in my books; the demographic of that show just doesn’t suit his vibe. How do you think Clooney would do on the set of Sesame Street?

Here we go (slight adaptation to protect the innocent!)

Dear Producer,

I’ve had the great fortune to work with some incredibly inspiring people within Big Brother House and I would now add Cubby to this list. There are many seasoned house-mates in our business like Cubby that personify a set of core values and skills that have such a positive impact on the integrity of our show and our viewers experience of the Big Brother Brand. I believe that the Producers need to examine ways to improve the way we coach our House-mates and analyze how our top rating performers operate. If we are going to survive in this challenging environment, the differences our people make, like Cubby, will keep this show alive.

I really value Cubby’s approach to show business – he’s a supreme coach, and what he doesn’t know about this business isn’t worth knowing. He’s got such a passion for delivering his best performance, time after time, and I sincerely believe that working with Cubby has had a significant influence on how my ratings have increased in this season’s show.

I moved to Singapore late May 2009 to become a Big Brother House mate for SEA having starred in a season in the Australian series. Cubby took time out of this incredibly busy schedule to discuss at length some fundaments of the show that would give me the tools to succeed and get some good ratings. I’m not just referring to how to win points in the games to get food etc, more so, the overall emotional intelligence of how to survive as a new, forthright Australian woman, in the back drop of a rather tricky Neighborhood. He shared with me some observations about my character that would in months to come be vital for me to understand how to keep my place in the House.

Feedback is essential in these circumstances, and what observed was spot on and thankfully he pointed out what I needed but could not see at the beginning. In my experience, the Big Brother House can be rather adversarial at times, and what makes Cubby such an asset is he offers tips and advice to help the house-mates avoid the internal challenges.

Cubby has set aside time for me to brain storm and talk through my strategies to get the viewers to like what I had to say. I will say though, at times I found Cubby’s manner somewhat harsh and critical of my work (and have told him to get stuffed more than a few times), but maintain I am grateful to have a constructive push to encourage me to achieve better results in my performance. All too often, I see leaders in the House resist giving people valuable constructive feedback that ultimately will help our ratings improve. (Maybe it might help their ratings too?)

I’ve seen Cubby become the “go to” person in the house for general advice on the “how to” in show business. His work in front of the cameras speaks for itself, but to his credit, he has also given what little spare time he has left to support the other house-mates to highlight areas for consideration, share show business know how, or other ratings analytics to support the pursuit for more viewers in this region. Simply put, he offers some much needed plain old common sense that he’ll articulate in such a way that the “Big Brother Guide for Dummies” should publish it.

One observation I am particularly keen to make is that Cubby’s zero tolerance for poor service or mediocre housework has raised the bar and improved the quality-control Big Brother House SEA. Individuals have started to question and demand more from their fellow house-mates, and slowly a shift is taking place of our people not talking about “plain rice for dinner” or just “we don’t stock any toilet paper in the house”, rather spending time to talk to our public about what they’d like to get out of the show and make them switch on again and again, rather than turn the channel to Cable - because it’s cheap! Cubby is very passionate about the basic fundamentals of how to win higher ratings, and it very simple, get to know your audience.

The fact of the matter is, Big Brother is not a vanilla show, nor do the produces wish to be a cheap player in a much commoditized reality TV show market. Cubby’s approach that he ardently shares with his housemates, and the vision that has been demonstrated in the show he recently won, is to focus on taking the Big Brother Series right into the value space of Television, and far from vanilla reality TV dimension that so many Asian viewers perceive us to be in today.

The culture within Big Brother SEA is reflective of a very tired house, and with no scripts released yet from Producers for the next show, people like Cubby have become a fundamental strength at the core of our house.

I also believe that outstanding individuals like Cubby can also create monsters in the Big House; the more housework he does, the greater the level of expectations of what other tricks he can pull off, and then, the more pressure for Cubby to play up for the cameras.

Unfortunately there is only one of Cubby, and I have observed his struggle to balance his personal time in the Big Brother Room with his eagerness to give the public a good show. I hope next season, if they bring him back, he works on finding a greater focus on his personal life and recognizes that is as equally as important as the cameras. You can not kill the goose to get the golden egg, right!

He’s great fun both on and off the set of the house, a consummate professional, and a very caring genuine man with a mass of integrity. With a sharp Scottish wit and genuine interest in people he’s definitely become a high ratings character on the show. His emotional intelligence is well beyond most I’ve shared a house with before and in my experience, he has an uncanny ability to keep ten steps ahead of the game and indeed the producers. He’ll always win the game that gives you more than plain rice for dinner.

I’ve thoroughly enjoyed working with Cubby, and if you asked for my opinion, it would be great result to see Cubby make a come back in the next season of Big Brother. Although, with a twist, something unexpected, so it gives the viewers something worth watching!

Kindest regards,

The Big Sheila.

The reality is we’re not perfect all the time; and certain viewers might fixate on that “thing” you did, on that day, and then you’re screwed with ratings for a long time. They’re a fickle bunch out there. But then again, there are the die hard viewers that will tune in again tomorrow to see what your day holds and love the journey with you, they’ll tune in again, because they know you’re human.

Actually, Cubby’s been a royal pain the ass at times, but that will not stop me telling the Produces they’re mad to let him go to that another show, especially when our ratings have really started to pick up again here because of what he’s pulled off in front of the cameras. Nor will it stop me from letting him know he’ll be really missed if he leaves the house.

Go tell someone how you feel about them today – see what happens. And pay it forward, if someone does something lovely or wonderful for you, do something special for someone else. It makes the world go around.

Smile for the camera.

Fleur
TBS

The other side of the mirror

2010-03-07T00:47:00.000-08:00

I have a couple of friends that like to mirror allot. It’s not about being vein, it’s more about mirroring behaviour to create a rapport. When I like blue they like blue, then grey or green. They do, suggest to feel or want just as I do. My initial thoughts have been that one side of this is a compliment, that these people must think I have good taste. The other side is frustrating, as I wonder why they can’t have an original thought of their own? Or is it really about that at all?

I also know people that take mirroring to another extreme. I call it “two sheds”. It basically means that when you talk about something you own or have, these people tell you they have an even better story, experience or bigger possession then the one you’ve just talked about or show-cased.

“I’ve got a shed in my back yard…”
“Oh really, I have two! And my sheds have blah blah blah…”

And what’s more, these types of people will always be sure to make mention of the item they know you’ve got in your shed but they’ve got the latest greatest one.

Whether it’s about sheds, men’s watches, the recent house purchase or even down to how much better their baby stroller is, this kind of mirroring is in my books is rather distasteful and in allot of cases, quite vulgar.

It’s a recognized psychological fact that mirroring body language can create rapport. Whether you’re in a board room, meeting someone for the first time or sitting next to someone at a bar; we can make it easier to create a link and a bond with the person if we mirror them. Most of us do it naturally, an innate reaction to the person you are interested to impress, sell to, influence or get into the sack. Fact. I’ve done it and I see people do it all the time in business. However, I now realising it’s time to take the blinkers off in the social world.

Rapport means literally, “The relation of mutual understanding or trust and agreement between people”. To build a space where we both, all feel comfortable with each other.

The other side of the mirror being used to build rapport is that it becomes a tool for men to carry in their imaginary man bags. Allow me to explain. And again, if you are not conscious of this, you soon will be once you have your next encounter.

With allot of men I’ve dated or some men that have wanted to become my surrogate boyfriend, I’ve had a common compliant that they are incapable of following through with anything.

“…..oh yeah, I want to start in life in Singapore, let’s do that.”
“….oh yeah, I’d love to do that cooking course with you, let’s do that”
“…oh yeah, I’m made keen on the Phuket Triathlon idea, let’s do that”
“….oh yeah, I’m doing a triathlon next year, let’s do that together”
“….oh yeah, I’m a writer, I’ve written 2 books and onto a third, I’ll show you…”
“…..oh yeah, I always planned to spend a year in Africa, let’s do that together…”
“….oh yeah, I love martini’s, in fact I’ve got two chilled glasses in my fridge….”
“….oh yeah, you just made duck curry, it’s my absolute favourite too, let’s do that together….”
“….oh yeah, I’ve always wanted to hike Mt Koto Kinabalu, let’s do that …..”
“…oh yeah, I’d love to catch up, let’s have dinner next week end…."

….. oh yeah…. I’m still waiting…. Well, not really, I’ve got on and done these things myself or with friends. But there I was thinking that we had so much in common, such a great connections, but they must have not liked me enough to follow through. And maybe they didn’t, but it’s far more apparent to me now that these men are masters of the mirror and had no intention on taking action. Their real motivation was purely to get me to desire them. What makes me laugh, is one of the Mr Oh Yeah's who said he was doing a triathlon wrote on his Face Book recently that “he’d prefer to do two hours of any other sport then go for a run”. Never a truer word spoken of a triathlete!

My friend Spencer said it perfectly the other day, talking about his new lady,
“…. I like this girl because she told me to F off and didn’t listen to my bullshit. Because Fleur, to be frank, it’s so easy to get what you want with women, you’ve just got to tell them what they need to hear….”

Whilst this does not apply to all men, a rather large proportion of the males species say all these “magic” words to create a space for us mere mortal woman to walk into. Then the game is on for men to have their way.

Now that I’ve cottoned on to this and I can sit back and have a giggle about what I’ve perceived as being “such wonderful connections”, a real giggle in fact. I have to admit, I did believe them; so that either makes me an A grade sucker or a very nice person, for time after time, I thought these men were as passionate as I was about the things that mattered to me. Mr Do Bee, holding the magic mirror, might tell me to get my head out of my ass right about now and just recognise it for what it is.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bBxeCV0bIcU

When I was in the business of “fixing people” who were the lost dogs, I used to tell them to stand in front of the mirror naked and take a good look at them and recognise the who you are today.

This is an exert from a letter I wrote;

“I always say, "every day is a school day" – and right now you’re learning the survival module of the course. Interestingly though, I’ve learnt that survival doesn’t have to mean to endure loneliness nor does it mean to be deprived of intimacy. Of course there is a fine line here because of what we think we are emotionally capable of, but again, it’s all about learning. So while your learning these new lessons, take some time to have a good look at you. The mirror will reveal to you that extra grey hair in your goaty, that your left nipple is hanging slightly lower than normal (probably because it’s been tugged on a lot lately), a slightly cracked smile that is actually beautiful, or just that the creases between your eye brows are looking more pronounced. This is potentially how you’ll look for a while - potentially. But I encourage you to acknowledge your current shape now because I can assure you that some time soon, with some patience and opening yourself up to accepting a lot of support and love that is on offer around you - you’re your smile will be super wide, that belly will push out an addictive and contagious laugh, your smile lines will be deep, you torso strong, your nipple upright and those balls will be clutching up again repetitively …… and all with out effort or pain. You will have found your balance and your peace.”

If I was still in the “fix it” game, I would tell the Mr Oh Yeah’s to go have a good look, as the mirror doesn’t lie – it will not show an image of a man standing there decked out in a Robert Redford safari suit, in brand new trainers, wearing a chefs hat, sipping on a Martini and holding two tickets to Borneo. Rather, appreciate what you see, with all of your natural, native colours, and when you next meet a beauty, tell her about that. Surely the prize can still be won this way, maybe even more?

It is funny how much women obsess over how they look. Fixating over their appearance, causing anxiety and personal exhaustion to keep what they see in the mirror looking just right all in the name of desire. Yet, why has it not been exposed that there is a crusade of men, nationwide, globally in fact, that are all as desperate to change the “look in the mirror” because of something they want…. to be desired?

Boy, girl, man, woman, scare, strong, buff venier exterior, soft as a marsh-mellow interior, boobs, balls, bums and a whole lot of wonderful colours. And with your partner, you just might find that you have an abundance of similarities when you are brave enough to stand in front of the mirror together.

The other side of this is now that I’ve got new eyes with mirrors, my dating life may be completely ruined, or I could actually stop wasting time with the disingenuous. So if you spot me yawning across the table whilst on a date, you know I’ve clocked him as a Mr Oh Yeah, and just maybe after I shake off the yawn, I’ll have some fun with it and see how much mirroring he’s really prepared to do! This could be fun, or incredibly evil. I’ve always loved Tourvil and Dean….

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t2zbbN4OL98

When we stand in front of the mirror we are all relatively the same you know. It’s how we behave when we are not in front of the mirror that is the key. Or as the great Michael Jackson said "...if you want to make the world a better place take a look at yourself and make a change....." Such a great song....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SgtWIx2zLtk

Fleur
TBS

The other side of your genius

2010-02-25T07:51:00.000-08:00

I’d like to take the last blog to another level and give you some context to the sexual revolution and the other side to its potential meaning. Let’s look at how your sexual expression can make you a genius. Really?

I understand that most of us associate sex as physical because of mainstream influences and then ultimately induces a highly biased mindset when it comes to reading about sex. Sex means smut in our mainstream conservative reading world, do you agree? But - have you heard of sexual transmutation? This is the exploration that one our strongest human emotions, the desire for sex, is just not a pure and direct relation to the physical expression, but it has the ability to elevate us to the status of genius. Allow me to show you the other side.

The literal meaning of the word “Transmutate” is “the changing or transferring of one element or form of energy, into another.”

Sexual transmutation is simple and easily explained; it basically means the switching of the mind from thoughts of physical expression, to thoughts of some other nature. And the emotion of sex brings into being a state of mind, three constructive potentialities –

• The perpetuation of mankind
• The maintenance of health (as a therapeutic recreation, it has no equal)
• The transformation of mediocrity into genius through transmutation

Scientific research has discovered that men who are incredibly successful are more often than not, those with highly developed sexual natures. What’s more, these men, that have manifested considerable wealth and fortune with outstanding recognition in their profession, be it commercial, literature, art, or industry, were all motivated by the influence of a woman.

What do they say - the other side of every successful man is a woman?

Can this be so - can a man socially accept that he can transform his desire to sow, to become a genius? The emotion of sex is truly an irresistible force that we all feel. The human mind responds to stimulation and the greatest of these is the stimuli of sex. When driven by this emotion, men become endowed with a tremendous command of action.

Keep a bull in the yard for an extended period of time and he will buck, he will rear, but eventually he’ll find his way out and force the show. Olay! This is exactly the case for the emotion of sex, it could be laying dormant, hidden underneath a dry spell, but by its very nature, will cause the phoenix to rise from the flames and make his appearance.

The news here is, if sexual energy is not transmuted into some kind of creative means, it will find a less worthy outlet to express itself. Boys, can you gather that 60 seconds of a moment, isn’t the same as a lifetime of greatness?

Castrate any animal and watch what happens. No Toro’s will fight the matador and there will be no cry of “Olay Olay” from the crowds, more an order of a juicy eye fillet steak and a bottle of Tempranillo. Remove the gooleys and you’ve stolen a major source of energy and action.

It is fact that when driven by this desire men develop an imagination, a sense of courage, a persistence and creative ability unknown to even themselves at times. So much so, that this desire can become so compelling, it will influence them to run very high risks in life to indulge in it, all to have their release for 60 seconds; a risk of reputation, family, or personal moral value. (Am I being generous?)

The philosopher Napoleon Hill believes that “the transmutation of sex energy calls for the exercise of will-power, to be sure, but the reward is worth the effort. The desire for sexual expression is inborn and natural. The desire cannot, and should not be submerged or eliminated. But it should be give an outlet through forms of expression, which enrich the body, mind, and spirit of man. If not given this form or outlet through transmutation, it will seek outlets through purely physical channels”.
He goes on to say, “Sexual energy is the creative energy of all genii. There never has been, and never will be a great leader, builder, or artist lacking in his driving force of sex.” **

The facts are there; have a flip through the history books and read up on the likes of Lincoln, Napoleon and William Shakespeare to name a few. When Lincoln met Anne Rutledge as one of America’s greatest leaders, he harnessed his creative genii through the stimulation of the love he experienced through Anne. Napoleon was invincible, a man of tremendous judgment whilst with his first wife Josephine; yet when he left her, his ruling immediately declined. There are plenty of examples in our history of men who have climbed to great heights from the stimulation of their wives, until money, power and temptation took the better of them, and they dissolved into destruction. Our dear Napoleon was not the only man that would discover that the sexual influence from the right source is more powerful than any substitute of expediency. You’ve all heard the line… “I did not have sexual relations with that woman….”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KiIP_KDQmXs

As I said, the human mind responds to sexual stimuli, and when harnessed, men are capable of lifting themselves into an elevated realm of thought. A friend of mine had an affair in his office, a extremely successful and respect businessman in his field and he shared his story with me. When we talked at great length about the affair, his firm conclusion was that his “lady” transported him to an intoxicating level of creative intent that he had never experience before, and was unsure would ever again with any other form of influence, or stimulation. And let me tell you this guy appeared to have tried it all. He was now 43 and was starting to see changes in his imagination, power of thought, and felt as though he actually “stepping up” for the first time. He felt awoken, and a changed man. There are endless stories of men that have had woman in their lives serve as the muse or fuel to their fire…. at the right time.

The other side of this is, it doesn’t mean all men are genii if blessed with an over zealous sex drive. It’s only if, those men are willing to stimulate the mind and imagination into a new creative power. Like I said, maturity is a critical factor here. Men who succeed with their plight to the status of genius, can shift the desire for sex to grow beyond the wanting to indulge in instant gratification, the need to share their love and “get it on” with her… and her, and her, and good god, her too. The preconceived notion that the “little man down there” is designed to procreate and that’s about it - needs to be challenged.

What’s becoming apparent is the majority of men just don’t get it. They have yet to grasp that the urge of sex has other possibilities that far transcends in importance than the mere release, conquest, quickie, shag, or what that rumble on kitchen table will ever give them. Can men realize that all of these expressions dissipate their energies to leave them lifeless, spent, and are useless after 60 seconds? Sleep anyone? Funny, their finest and most powerful emotions are all sown wildly into the four winds. Where do you think the term “sowing his our wild oats” came from?

The reason why scientists have discovered that men don’t achieve real greatest till past their forties, is because they’ve spent their earlier “in prime years” in constant dissipation of energies that could have been channeled into more profitable, sustainable results.

The other side is that there are also men in our history that have made their genius through other forms of stimulation, that is in no way the related to the sensual shape of woman. Robbie Burns wrote his best work when he was intoxicated, “For Auld Lang Syne”, was a drunken masterpiece. But, also let it be noted that these men have all destroyed themselves in the end, alone and with an empty bottle.

A study of IT Account Directors in the US has shown that highly sexed men are the most efficient salesmen. Which all boils down to a factor of a personality trait known as “personal magnetism”; which is nothing more nor less than sexual energy. Highly sexed people always have a plentiful supply of magnetism. Through cultivation and understanding, this vital force may be drawn upon and used to great advantage in the work environment. Surely you’ve seen it!

The handshake, their tone of voice, how attentive they are with you (the vibrations of thought), the body language and they way they dress. It’s all there in black and white; you just have to pay attention to it. Or if you’re a woman, you’ve already clocked it and made your move.

The animal’s call for the wild is termed being “in season”; men call it “open season”. Does that mean every day? The other side of this, is used in excess like liquor or drugs, sex can become just as destructive to us. The inability to harness your sexual stimulation has also shown to lead to temporary insanity, or some case permanent, or on a more basic level, broken marriages, painful break-ups or ruined careers.

So all of the men who are afraid of turning forty, I say embrace it! As luck would have it, not only will you have the abundance of sexual expression, but, this is your time to harness your genius and channel your energies to reach the echelons and peerage with brilliant men such as Bill Gates, Salvador Dali, Winston Churchill or Mr Bean - or who ever you believe is a genius!

So men, ponder a thought beyond 60 seconds, and fall in love with your wife again, or if not, ditch her and find a woman that does influence you with wonder, imaginative energy and greatness. If you’re single, go grab a fetching philly and hang on for the ride, you might just wake up to find that ladder to step on to.

She’s out there – we all are. A beacon of love and sexual light to stoke your fires, genius!

Fleur
TBS

**The source of inspiration for this Blog is “Think and Grow Rich”, but Napoleon Hill.

The other side of the Money Shot

2010-02-18T09:01:00.000-08:00

Come on people, get your game face on, that’s the ticket, smile for the camera baby, say cheese, pucker up butter cup and smile for me! Are you on Facebook?

Facebook has cornered the perfect market for that perfect money shot, which is clean and dignified. Clean, meaning, there are filters in place so people don’t get a little over zealous and post large photo’s of Ron Jeremy as their profile picture. Instead it’s a wonderful way to display a perfect shot of “just you”, or something that represents your character, a Kodak moment or symbol that you're proud to be viewed by the third largest population in the world. Yes that’s right, Facebook is now considered the 3rd largest populated community in the world, outside of China and India.

People send photos, share moments and experiences all across the world. It’s brilliant, but it got me thinking about how much the digi age has changed absolutely everything that we do in life and how we communicate with each other. Dates, events, meetings and business leads are now all shared over Facebook, Instant Messenger and Text. More and more people are asking each other out on dates over the wire. Then what is becoming more worrying, all the rules are changing. What is considered "right and wrong" is such a blurred line nowadays over the wire. Couples are now “getting it on” with so much as a photo shared between, not even a coffee. Let me tell you, I’m discovering that phone sex is now considered passé and it’s all about text-sex, so get with the program people, a new dawn is coming.

Recently a girlfriend of mine, let’s call her Jill, was been having a text relationship with a strapping young lad in the UK. We’ll call him “Jack the Lad”. A text-sex-a-thon you might call it. Starting out all innocent and, “hi, how you doing today, been thinking of you”, then moving to, albeit rather quickly to Jack sending Jill a “naughty shot”. Our UK lad took the bold move to send across a shot of himself under the covers and then asked for one MMS'd in return. It shocked and equally titillated my somewhat conservative pal. However, that promptly opened the doors to other side of her once thought shy but charming, slightly dorky Jack the Lad. Soon their “hello darling how are you”, became, “imagine me…., as I….., as you….., as we….., then….”. Hot, hot, hot under the collar stuff, so much so, that she’d be sitting in a car on the way to work, blushing at her Blackberry, having to explain herself away to her car pool buddies. In different time zones, they’d text back an forth, keeping each other “warm” at night, or “hot” in the morning. However you looked at it, it was night and morning glory.

Technology has taken on a whole new dimension in our lives. It’s made us a generation, or generations of impatient people. Even the “three date rule” seems to be circumvented by the use of a mobile phone and digital technologies. Like I said, people are “at it” before they’d even clapped eyes on each other these days. How does that work? I don’t know, but apparently it just does.

My mate Norman tells me that nowadays the Gen Y’s are sending naughty photos of each other over the wire daily and he went so far as to say, girls are asking to “see it” on text before they’ll use it (or ride it, how ever your mind works?). It’s extraordinary really when you think about it. I scoffed and said “no way”, but he assures me he’s seen it first hand, that his mates and younger brothers have a Friday night “show and tell” at the boozer, slide shows akimbo of the ladies submissions that week. What has the world come to? Thankfully our Jill never had the gumption to send a return shot of any kind.

The other side of asking for more on text is some of us, although wish to be naughty, haven’t quite got over the conservative hump of sex in the bedroom not the Blackberry. Therefore, in a bid to keep up, have become more like screaming social fopars than the free and sexy individuals all floating around in this new age of sexual digital liberation. I think my darling friend Jill was a generation too late, and although sleeps with her Blackberry she’s absolutely not Gen Y, she’s just a hot Muma who is conservative but slightly experimental, and fortunately or not so, is a part of a more saucier pose than she. One night after far too many wines, she divulged the text affair to one of these more Sassy friends, who encouraged her to take it one step further and see what this wicked boy was capable of.

“Shock him, surprise him and make him think” the Saucier Sassy said. “Ask him for a "c o ck shot"!”
“What? NO, I can’t do that”
“Oh yes you can, ask him for a "cock shot" and see what he does, that way you’ll know if he’s man or mouse! And darling, if this is something that he really does all the time, he’ll be back in a jiffy with some of the best numbers from the files in his iPhone”
“Ahuh – I don’t do that kind of thing….”
“Go on, every one is doing this these days, where have you been?”

Two bottles of wine, a little push and Jill sent the text to Jack the Lad.

When your coach tells you to do something you generally listen, you take action and you work towards becoming a better person. When a schoolteacher tells you to do your homework, you did it; because you were told to. We all allow people with authority to come into our life to teach us lessons, show us things, and help us understand more about ourselves and life.

Then other side here is, that authority figure that gave you what seemed like really sound advice, can also create an outcome that wasn’t in the slightest bit what you wanted or hoped would happen. And just maybe, if you had not done what they advised and continued on your merry way, you wouldn’t be in that new uncomfortable (shitty) situation. No one gets it right 100% of the time and if you think you do, you’re boring and arrogant. The greatest bullshit buzzword of our times is “lessons learnt” – from all those wonderful fuck ups you had through your life that either take you one way or another. But the greatest thing about fucking up is it inevitably always takes you somewhere.

When you have a text relationship with someone, there is no way of telling how he or she has received your message, or intention. You can’t flutter an eye lid, pout your lips, throw your boobs out across the table, or lift your wine glass slowly and tip your head to expose your neck line to the man… it’s just there in black and white… “Send over a "c ock shot"”. Jill never heard from Jack the Lad again.

Like I said, some of us just aren’t at the sexual digi age, and whilst we can now laugh about it over a vino, Jill was mortified about taking the advice of her saucier sod mate, who lead her up the hill to seek more full frontage from a guy she hardly knew. Equally, I bet our boy Jack didn’t see that one coming at all, maybe he ran out of credit, or maybe he got hit by a car, regardless I can’t help but feel for Jill, the radio silence has been deafening. Her Blackberry will be plain texts all the way from now on.

And by the way, the other side of that nursery rhyme is Jill was bloody flowing Jack’s lead up the hill, just so he could be all manly and fetch the pale of water. He was the dickhead that fell over and it all turned to shit, so what is a girl to do? Jill came tumbling after…. Oh yes she did. Work with what you have ladies!

Jack and Jill texted a thrill, across the sea and water, Jack got down, Jill broke his crown and there in lies a text-a-thon-sexual disaster.

Know your limits and sense check all the worldly advice that you’re given, we all think we’re “Wikipedia” at times, but honey, my truth might not be yours. Question everything and remember, not everything that glitters is gold. And for god’s sake, when you’re smiling for the camera, just remember - everything out in Digi-land is traceable, viral in a second and can be forwarded on in one click.

I’m positive I said to a boy in the 3rd Grade, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours!”

What ever rocks your boat people! Bowshackawowwow!

Fleur

TBS

The other side of fair weather

2010-02-09T08:13:00.000-08:00

Well, Cinderella went to the ball - my dress was stunning, I felt like a million dollars, I had a tall and terrific date, our table was brilliant with non-stop banter and it was all for the benefit of the Cambodian Children’s Trust. It was a picture perfect night... All until my date walked out, leaving me to feel more like the kitchen maid stranded on her own, than Cinda-fucking-rella.

Antony’s exit was due to my panic of loosing my camera during the ball. Lost as a result of being kissed outside the hotel, and somewhat distracted, I had left my camera on our love seat. I was rather upset because of valuable and controversial nature of photos stored on the camera and it was after all, brand new. After some time trying to find it, a man walked up and asked "is this yours?", presenting my red sony case before my eyes. I was ecstatic, I gave him a 50 and went up stairs quickly to thank every one for helping me try to find it. When I got back, there was no sign of Antony.

Antony had been professing love for me in the weeks leading up to the event, then kissing me tenderly and telling me how stunning I looked in my Jennifer Aniston gown; so you can imagine my shock when he left. No good-bye, or thank you (I paid for the ticket) all in favour of going to play with his buddies in Orchid Towers.

What kind of love is that, I wondered? I am starting to think that the other side of these kinds of admissions of love only survives in fair weather.

On my table were Hannah and Steve, a wonderful couple that have become like family to me here in Singapore. Steve is hilarious, split a rib funny and Hannah is my sister when I don’t have a sister, golf buddy and dear friend. They’ve been together for 13 years, have a gorgeous daughter Charlotte, and are truly in love. And really love each other. They share the same values and have a wonderful friendship to support their years together. Great friends, great lovers and they know how to have fun together. They will be life long partners.

Then on Sunday night, "Indecent Proposal" was showing on HBO; the famous movie about Robert Redford offering $1M to have one night with Demi Moore. A couple so in love since they were 21, although crippled financial bills, allowed this predator to come between them. And of course, the fairy tale ending was them finding their way back to the place where it all started and love prevailed.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IvwpotOzxvM

It got me thinking, can love really conquer all? Isn’t that the saying? The fantasy and the movies seem to have it down pat, but I really don’t think us mere mortals have got it entirely just yet.

Nowadays, it’s become so much harder to fulfill the fantasy of boy meets girl, boy likes girl, girl likes boy, they get married and live happily ever. Outside forces, divorces and differences and less and less fair weather makes us all a little crazy. Today we’re all very complicated people, with layers upon layers of colours that shape and mould how we react, perform or treat other people we have relationships with.

Is the word l"ove" being used far too much, more flippantly, or as means to express something you are passionate about or like more than just “like” can explain? And what is the boundary when you express to a friend you really care for so dearly, and you tell them you love them all the time, then you share a kiss, yet the rules are it doesn’t mean anything? Don’t you think it dilutes the meaning of the word? (Which is more the case with Antony and I). Ha, when I was a little girl, I was of the belief that love meant forever, or rather that when you loved someone it would last forever. But then again, as a little girl, my dear Mum Gaysie, told me a Love Stork brought me to her! Lots of fair weather in my fantasy world.

Social scientists have published that the “in love feeling” typically only lasts for two years. Why is that? Some other scientists say it is a chemical high that turns us “on like lights” that cannot be sustained. Even they say fair weather love doesn’t last.

What is love? Is it a possession or attitude? Does it happen to us, or do we create it? And when some one loves you, what does that mean exactly? I know when I’ve been “in love” I feel like I can achieve anything, have insurmountable courage, can run faster than a speeding train, fill up ten balloons I one breath, and perform at my peak, absolutely high with uncanny ability.

To some it’s a euphoric passionate deep inner feeling, a rush of adrenalin, a spike of anxiety and high of endorphins, to only feel like you’ve fallen down a glacier, with deep wounds and a chest full of a dull painful aches when it is taken away or cut off from you like the rope that was guiding you down the mountain.

Why can’t there be a machine that can wipe you’re memory of all the hurt and pain and take you right back to the time with your first love, when you were innocent and naive to the ways of emotional power. A machine that erases just how far you fell when you were overcome by the power the love. Before we knew what “having a wall up” meant; and that if anyone wanted to get to you, they would literally have to climb K2 to find the real you.

I’m not talking about just single people either; I’m talking about all of us, universally. I know plenty of people in relationships that are "safe" because they don’t get asked questions and don’t have to look or delve any deeper than what is on the surface. Couples that certainly don’t have to acknowledge any emotional heart beats because they collude together to keep themselves in that very safe, emotionally monotone environment.

It might not be monotone for them, it might be incredibly comfortable, and “fish and chips” every Friday night in front of the television might really rock their boat – until one day, they meet that someone. It’s just a look; in fact it’s an instant look. A look that will change their life, as they know it, forever.

I walked into a bar one day in Pamplona, busting for the toilet when it happened to me. I had broken away from the group to find a pub, an instant split second decision, just like that – a bladder impulse would change two people’s lives forever.

Richard and I fell in love instantly. It was like neither one of us had ever experienced before. We felt like we were soul mates, destined to meet each other, but as the world would turn, not meant to be together. Unbeknown to me, Richard was already engaged to someone else. He loved this woman, but was not "in love". He met me and fell immediately in love because there was room within his world and heart to do so. He wasn’t fulfilled in his current relationship, even though he was going to stand at the alter and promise to love and obey her for the rest of his life.

Wrong or rightly, he allowed it go too far, our love was like an addiction to him, it was a passion that he’d never felt before and in his mind he couldn’t let it go….. Not until the day I found his wedding invitations in the bottom of his suitcase in a honeymoon suite hotel in Barcelona.

I was horrified. Devastated, torn to shreds, I hated it, I couldn’t fathom how someone could be so cruel, but I knew people couldn’t fake the kind of love that we shared, whether or not it was a fantasy, it was real between us. What was hard to admit, was a part of me understood what and how it had all happened. We fought and there were endless tears, but then decided we would make it happen, but he needed to time to deal with it at home.

He couldn't do it reality. He went back home and the guilt was too great - he chose to stay with his fiancé. He called me the day he got back from his honeymoon to say he’d made the mistake of his life. It was too late. I’d moved back to Australia by this stage and it had gone too far for me to forgive him and trust him. He called me constantly for another eight months, writing poems, singing “Chasing Cars” on my voicemail and telling me to look up at the full moon as it was our sign that we would be thinking of each other no matter where we were in the world.

If the truth were known, there was a part of me waiting for most of those months for him to walk through my front door with some gallant dramatic gesture to come and finally claim me, his soul mate, and we’d live happily ever after.

But the other side of that dramatic gesture was the cold reality of relief that he never did. I would have always questioned him, my family would never have accepted him, nor would his family forgiven him. He’d come from a family where his brothers were all in loveless marriages and they all stayed because that’s how it was done. He didn’t have the tools to do anything about his anger for getting himself into this mess, or his fear of getting out of it. It was fear that got him into it and it would be fear that would determine his life rather than happiness.

We all behave, react, argue, indulge, hate, fear and love the way we do largely guided by the limited or wealth of knowledge and experiences that we are armed with at that particular time. And, you know what, we all fall over. We all make mistakes, and as you well know, it’s how we pick ourselves up and acknowledge these lessons that really defines us.

We can wrap ourselves up in the most intense love and passion, we can feel as one while we make love and fall asleep in each others arms, yet we simply don’t have the power to control another human being. We can influence, we can nurture, we can lead, but ultimately we can’t force action, well not with out a kitchen knife anyway. So as I’m growing up, blossoming from a young buttercup daisy to taller stronger more beautiful Lilly, touching and feeling life, I’m learning that we are all affected by lifes elements in so many fundamental and different ways. I guess I’ve been dealing with the cause and effect of these differences; trying to embrace and accept.

The other side of all this is we can actually meet that special someone, fall in love, make promises, and buy gifts that we can’t afford, do ultraistic gestures and do things that really make us feel like we are lovers. But what can happen for a number of people, after we come down off the emotional high, all the euphoria evaporates the “we” becomes two self centered people who have made promises we can’t keep, in fact we’re incapable of keeping. So what happens is, that high, that “love” is replaced with hurt, anger, disappointment and fear.

My fear has also been in control, keeping me in a nice safe place, where no one can touch me like Richard did. The men I attract whilst are strong, they are not mountaineers, or interested in climbing K2 unless it’s for their own personal recreation. Time to pack up the climbing gear, and leave “Touching the Void” to Joe Simpson and his mate Simon. All risk, and high return I think, why the hell not? Safe hasn’t got me anywhere fast.

I can’t help but think if we were however, a little more realistic in our pursuits, maybe we wouldn’t make so many promises, or create expectations or pretend we are things we’re not, and search for the fair weather all the time?

I want to shake all of those people that are in relationships that are not fulfilling and say “wake up, go out there and find your soul mate”, but I’ve come to realize that people don’t want to take risks in life. That safe options more often than not are born from the foundation of their socialization, and what they knew growing up - so my way of thinking is completely nonsensical to them.

I’ve heard so many women say to me, “when you get married, you just feel more secure, you’ve got it then, you’ve got there.” Got where? Is there a marriage secret department store, and if you’re single or divorced, you’ve got no chance in hell in getting in? What does that mean exactly, that you’re safe from getting hurt? It makes marriage sound like a possession rather than a loving way of life. Or is that security is far more valuable than authentic love?

What are the virtues that possibly can deliver authentic love that is not just about the two year high? I believe to possess kindness, patience, forgiveness, courtesy, humility, generosity and most importantly, honesty is the answer. A healthy combination of these lovely characteristics used as a way of life, and not a quick fix for a temporary high, will see us through to achieving greater, more authentic love in our lives.

I really like Erich Fromm, a world famous psychoanalyst who talks about if we want to love others well; we need to be patient with ourselves first.

“To have an idea of what patience is, one need only watch a child learning to walk. It falls, falls again, and falls again and yet it goes on trying, improving, until one day, it walks without falling. What could the grown up person achieve if he had the child’s patience and its concentration in the pursuits which are important to him?”

I forgive Antony for leaving the ball, he had his reasons, I wasn’t very fair weather over the camera incident and it is not the end of the world. Richard also had his reasons for what he did. I can’t control the other side of that choice, but I did get to experience passion and euphoric love like I’d never touched before - one I shall not necessarily look for again. Robert Redford’s scheming Millions Dollar ways didn’t win over the true love of Demi and Woody, and Steve and Hannah make fantastic role models and have now become my moral and love compass with the men in my life. And....... I’ve come to believe that timing is always such a fundamental part of two people falling in love. It’s amazing that it ever happens really when there are so many obstacles in the way.

Here is to love, long may it last!

Fleur
TBS

P.s - A life with out risk is like no life at all.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQCqYXLC6Qo

This is what I was listening to – The John Barry Score to Indecent Proposal, one of my top 10 favourite instrumental scores from a movie. The real piece is 25 mins long, this is only 10. It truly is beautiful.