breathe dearheart, breathe

Category: Inner wild liberation (page 4 of 7)

When you were little <----------- who were you?

Did you ever happen to see the wonderful documentary series “UP”? directed by Michael Apted and commissioned decades ago by Granada Television in the UK?

Starting in 1964, it ground-breakingly recorded a group of disparate children at 7 years of age, then at 14 years of age and 28 years, 35 years and 42.

When I watched the “35UP” programme I was struck by a cloud-parting insight. As the filmmakers cut together each 35 year old with their 7 year old self I could see that those who were happiest, most content and successful were the ones who had remained true to the individuals they were when they were little.

Have you remained true to who you were at 7 years of age?

The successful grown-ups were those in the group chosen by the filmmakers who had not, like me and the others, spent much of their lives wild goose chasing.

I am all-for a good wild goose chase and to illustrate this point I will let you know that when I was of an age to theoretically know better, maybe 10 or 11? I am proud to say I remember chasing wild rabbits about with a cellar of salt having been told if you sprinkled salt on their tails they would not run away.

I still happily believe dumb things like this.

Rainbows still lure me with their elusive pots of gold even while I have actually trudged for miles, lugging a heavy spade, experienced the disappointment of rainbows not getting any closer so you can’t reach their end at all (did you know?).

As I write that I realize this is a metaphor for my life. I have chased rainbows my whole life and it’s taken me from living in Glasgow to London to Sydney to Auckland and back to Glasgow. And still no pot of gold. Lots of very pretty rainbows however, especially in Sydney after a thunderous rainstorm.

I was thinking about all this last weekend when I noticed on Twitter #WheniWasLittle as a ‘trending topic’. Don’t you just love Twitter?

Curious, I clicked and was delighted by some of the wonderful statements people made on this topic.

I’ve copied some here for you. I hope you will smile as you read them and maybe also reflect on how different or the same you are to who you were at 7 years of age.

I’m sure you were utterly lovely.

@imdabutterfly i was small.. Hhaahahhhaha..

@EleniTweet_x #WheniWasLittle Me And My Sister Would Fight Over Barbies

@Temayah RT @joeythechase: I still have mine RT @Temayah: #wheniwaslittle i had a susu box..—lmao! Rili?

@neneclemons #wheniwaslittle when spacejam came out i confused michael jordan with r.kelly

@kylebanks #WhenIWasLittle I didn’t have to get up at 4AM to go to work at 5AM

@BeeDubbleYu #wheniwaslittle i wanted to be older…now i want to be little again

@mattyicerob7 #wheniwaslittle I was into pokemon. The cards, games, and show. But now I’m only into the games.

@jozegr8 #wheniwaslittle we passed letters like – “Do you like me?” Check: []Yes []No []Maybe.

@KatStacksLaugh #wheniwaslittle Toy’s R US was the Ultimate Heaven.

@jemstarmusic #wheniwaslittle I used watch Family Matters, Fresh Prince, Saved by the bell, Martin .. Still do! lol

@de_bisi #wheniwaslittle I was the black sheep of the family! Wait I still am! Oh well

@Temayah: #wheniwaslittle i loved bathin in da rain… Gawd i miss those tyms

@VIR3N #wheniwaslittle I used to think that I could use MSN without internet. #fail

@Gussser #wheniwaslittle me and my friend michael would go outside in the rain and play like idiots.

@demibass #wheniwaslittle I use to make ‘potions’ with the hair products, shampoos and conditioners

@itssssawyer #WheniWasLittle i put my grmas car in drive &it almost drove out tha gas station , thas y u dnt leave badd ass kids inda car by themself

@BeanzDaring: #wheniwaslittle we used 2 put empty Huggie containers n our bike tires so our bikes can sound like dirt bikes

@Mr_Jay_Woods #wheniwaslittle “THERE WAS A SUCH THING CALLED #SCHOOLSHOES

@arli92 #wheniwaslittle going down backwards on a slide was the SHIITT lol

@helloanxious #wheniwaslittle i used to think my freckles made me gorgeous. not so much now.

@thelps1987 #wheniwaslittle we used to play football in the park for ages! none of this ps3 nonsense

@TevRunWisdom #wheniwaslittle I used to call people cheaters if they found me in hide n seek

@dave_alist #wheniwaslittle I thought it was cool to run around peeing on people..

@DevikaDidi #WheniWaslittle I used to have a boy short cut hair.. People be asking me if I’m a boy or a girl when I have a barbie jacket on.. D:

@mrym_xoxo #wheniwaslittle I believed in happy endings 🙂

@SiMpLY_GoLDeN_#wheniwaslittle I loved playing in the dark!

@Djembe_Djammer #wheniwaslittle Being double-dared something was like a death sentence.

@tslkailahgirafe #wheniwaslittle there was actually good programs on tv 🙂

@nightwork4 #wheniwaslittle we had 3 channels on TV. we actually played outside too

@MairaSalvatore #wheniwaslittle my families would always play around with my hair since it long —

@Mr_Jay_Woods #wheniwaslittle “I USED TO TRY AND SELL LEMONADE IN FRONT OF THE HOUSE” (BUT I DIDNT KNOW U NEEDED SUGAR!! THAT SHIT WAS DISGUSTING)

@patrizisbored #wheniwaslittle my grandpa used to put me on his shoulders so i can shoot the ball in the basketball ring at the park :’) good times.

@mrym_xoxo #wheniwaslittle I believed that was another world above the skies where fairies lived :p

@Liy939 I wanna go back to #wheniwaslittle cause back then, the hardest decision was picking a crayon…

@james_burge #wheniwaslittle we lost our teeth at 12 not our virginity!

@engelbertcrab #wheniwaslittle I had a bee cemetery

@rqdiva #wheniwaslittle my grandpa gave us chewing gum everytime he saw us. Lol

@mechellejones *blank stare*RT @MissDisla: #wheniwaslittle my mom taught me how to handle my liquor so that i wont use that excuse when i decide 2 have sex

Nature: is it in your nature?

Do you think about yourself in relation to nature around you? What is your relationship with nature?

Are you intertwined like ancient roots or curved branches? Do you blend in? Are you detached?

I have just realized that the more I am in nature, the more I details I notice and the more supported I feel.

Yes. I was going to say ‘healed’ and there is that too. But it’s supported that I mean. And feeling supported, as my extraordinary homoeopath once told me, is the number one most important factor in anyone’s healing.

Last night I noticed that the bees were still busy caring for the pinky-purple flowers of the giant rhododendron trees in our back garden as dusk was darkening thickly around them and the wind was gusty and hard. Yet even with their aerodynamically-absurd tiny wings and big, fluffy bodies the bees kept going.

Suddenly I’m thinking the quickening dark is an analogy for depression and that bees are a wild inspiration to us for mindful activity in the face of impending mental angst.

I am seeing these kind of tiny, potent metaphors and analogies everywhere I look in nature now.

It’s quite overwhelming.

It’s like I knew all this but now I am being shown, blinkers off, eyes wide open.

I’m frightened yet thrilled. Like when a child asks for some “danger” within the safety of a familiar, loved story.

A single happy moment. Unbidden. Arriving during a simple, productive task.

Cherished.

I feel we have lost much of the support of nature, the bracing perspective it gives us, and the multifarious, analogous aids we have in seasons, plants, birds, animals – aids we can easily find in every living thing if we simply look.

I think we humans have simply taken it all for granted, simply not really noticed it and furthermore we’ve been hugely attracted, like bees to blue plastic flowers, to gadgets and gizmos and fripperies that provide saccharine nectar for us which doesn’t sustain and nurture us but gives us hedonistic, too-quick highs and cravings for more.

Don’t get me wrong, I am as easily seduced by shiny as you or anyone else. But now I am feeling a different seduction that’s much more rewarding. A primal craving. And a deeper level of satisfaction.

I’m Noticing Nature.

Feeling supported by it.

Which in turn makes me Notice Nature more.

And feel ever more supported.

Why should this be such a surprise to me when it’s in my nature? Is it in your nature too?

Image “Forget Not” above borrowed from Mae Chevrette Art – Original Paintings and Mixed Media. You can buy this and other art such as “In the Sea” and “The Love You Make” oh, and “To Be Brave” from Mae’s Etsy store. Thank you for making the world more beautiful Mae.

Hello authentic life

Yesterday I talked a little about how we could all be more ourselves – the individuals we are – and feel more empowered instead of running around like Loraxes.

But how exactly to do that? How do you live your authentic life?

First of all, you are an individual. It follows that your life ought to be one based on your individuality. You are not just a person in the system, a potential customer, a consumer or one of the target market. Yet so many of us are unwittingly brainwashed and just bob along with the waves of patterns of behaviour that move around the ocean of our populace.

It seems to me that while most people understand we have free choice – and so many less fortunate people in the world do not have this essential foundation of a free society – they don’t use their free choice. (However, there are anomalies in our society, for example, parents-to-be in New York have no choice about whether to have their baby at home or not.)

Free will and free choice means we have the luxury of being more conscious of the tiny as well as big choices we make every day.

Each choice has a consequence. When we choose carefully and thoughtfully, when we ask ourselves what we want to do instead of just automatically doing what we think society wants us to do, we instantly empower ourselves.

The more we listen to our inner Self, and act on our intuition, the stronger we feel, and co-incidentally happier. The more we consciously strip away unnecessary things by de-cluttering, creating breathing space in our lives, being more mindful, honoring the things that make us feel good and doing more of them, the more authentic our lives will be. Our lives reflect who we are.

So in the hope of inspiring you, I gave myself 15 minutes to write a little stream-of-consciousness list of my ways of authentic living – practical choices I’ve made and continue to make that have helped me strip away layers of accidental falsity and live a more fulfilling life.

Hello authentic living –

Hello handmade, nature, wilderness and conscious living. Hello make-do-and-mend and minimalism. Hello connecting with my community and guerrilla gardening. Hello buying local produce and seasonal food.

Hello stripping away unnecessary things, including people and ideologies. Hello looking at bees and butterflies instead of watching them on TV. Hello letting children feel free and safe and able to play without adult supervision and interference.

Hello walking instead of driving. Hello knowing more about my family and friends than I do about celebrities and TV characters. Hello Waldorf / Steiner education and toys made of things that once lived like wool and wood. Hello not window-shopping and buying into retail persuasion.

Hello wearing the same dress I wore ten years ago because I love it (fashion doyen, Vivienne Westwood would approve). Hello making your own clothes, buying vintage clothes, revamping your old clothes, buying clothes from charity shops and expressing your individuality through the clothes you wear.

Hello being indecisive so you are always open to something new happening. Hello being spontaneous and going with that whole “who moved the cheese” thing.

Hello learning to be storytellers again instead of always reading books. Hello buying online direct from artists and creators on Etsy instead of big brand manufacturers. Hello upcycling and finding new uses for things we might otherwise throw away. Hello guitars around campfires, sleeping  under the stars and taking courses like Guy Mallinson’s woodland camps.

Hello farmers markets and people raising animals and crops the old-fashioned, expensive way. Hello curative classical homoeopathy and the slow movement. Hello creating communities of like-minded people online so it’s like we all live together in a village. (I’d like WildelyCreative as a neighbour.)

Hello supporting the people working with white knuckles, gritted teeth and in tears to save our planet, the species we share it with and the welfare of animals. Hello the rebel, the maverick, the weirdo who stands up and is not afraid to go against the tide.

Hello having your baby at home, being supported by other parents and breastfeeding for as long as you want. Hello hand-me-down clothes that have the energy of other children about them. Hello dads being good at supporting and protecting their family and moms being good at nurturing and home-making and hello all parents feeling supported and confident instead of thinking they need to read parenting books <– although I recommend that one).

Hello feeling connected to people via the magnificent universe that is Twitter that you’d never meet in real life. Hello listening to our instincts and acting upon them so we get more gut instincts and start to rely on them instead. Hello thinking for yourself instead of what everyone else seems to think.

Hello doing the exact things we loved as children, not matter how childish like playing with modelling clay and crayons, making things from twigs and collecting feathers. Hello not feeling you have to see the latest movie. Hello walking barefoot and getting your hands dirty.

Hello attempting to fix something instead of just buying a replacement. Hello getting to know your neighbours even if you don’t like them. Hello having a cat or dog in your life to teach you important life lessons and bring you companionship, fun, love and joy.

Hello photographing wildlife instead of shooting it. Hello going on guided nature walks instead of shopping trips. Hello home baking, making meals from scratch and growing our own wild foods.

Hello taking things out of skips and picking up things off the street that people have put out as garbage (we got 4 rolls of thick cream wallpaper on the street yesterday, great for HUGE painting and pastel works of art).

Hello looking up old friends and just saying hello. Hello realising you are beautiful. Hello loving what you have and being grateful.

Hello more displays of public affection. Hello more adventurous sex. (Bye bye stupid inhibitions.) Hello sharing secrets and talking more about what you feel. Hello writing silly notes and saying thank you.

Hello finding out about the insects and other little beasties you share you home and street with and looking for them and being able to name them. Hello smiling at people and acknowledging people more.

Hello realizing how far you’ve come and helping those coming up behind you. Hello leaving whole days open and unscheduled to do what you like in the moment. Hello risking looking foolish when you ask a stranger if they need help with their bags, car, crossing the road or anything else. Hello getting better about saying ‘no’ without giving an explanation as to why not.

Hello having wildflower meadows and wilderness areas in our gardens. Hello making gifts and cards for friends and family instead of giving money to a shop. Hello more people doing things like moving your tomato plant so the noise won’t disturb a leafcutter bee’s nest.

Hello healing ourselves by listening to our inner wild.

I’d love it if we did a kind of brainstorming thing here and you added your individual ‘Hello‘s in the comments below. I might add a few more too.

Why we should all sing more

When an opera diva opens her lungs and mouth and sings it’s like the raw emotions of all humankind flowing like white water rivers, wild bush fires, avalanches crashing, tidal waves breaking and molten lava surging down the steep sides of a volcano.

The vibration of that exquisite sound – even a recorded version of it – speaks to us in a primal way. Our cells respond.

Do you sing? Are you tone-deaf like me? Or do people say you have a good singing voice? Either way, do you sing?

And if you do, do you limit your singing to the shower, drowned out by the force of water, only sing along to your favorite tunes or do you belt out a song at any opportunity?

The first time I heard Madame Butterfly, ah, em, sampled by Malcolm McLaren, I found the original version: Puccini’s Un bel di vedremo from the opera Madame Butterfly, sung by Renata Scotto.

I didn’t know what words Ms Scotto was singing but it didn’t matter – any words here are merely an excuse to carry the human voice as it expresses our purest emotions.

I have since managed to attend a performance of Madame Butterfly. Now, when I listen to this piece of music I feel like hurts inside are healing up, little pebbles rub smoother, cracks come back together, some molecular magic occurs.

Tears come to my eyes and if I allow myself to merge with the sound, I cry. My ears ring inside. I hold my breath. I sigh. Crying to Madame Butterfly is like empathetic crying, pain, solace, comfort, love. Feeling you’re part of an amazing species.

Now here’s the curious thing.

I had the same response to my daughter singing a simple Maypole dance song last week (actual song lyrics).

Why? Because she was singing from her heart. Yes, and her soul. Singing loud and proud. She was singing with her whole Self – her arms open, her facing shining with a smile. Wow!

My child’s voice carried way above all the other children, and she ain’t a show-off. I stood there with the other parents, tears running down my face. I couldn’t help it.

I was so proud. Not of how ‘well’ she was singing in the way we would usually say, but of how WELL she was singing as in with abandonment, an open heart, healthily, happily, joyfully and carefree. How wonderful it was to listen to her song.

And this reminded me of a time at a parent and toddler group when the leader, who had a melodic voice and knew how to use it, would lead us all in song. Perhaps because her voice was so lovely us parents would mumble along trying not to drown her out or be heard at all really.

No doubt all of us had been told many times “you can’t sing!”. And so we didn’t, (except I suppose when people weren’t listening). But one parent, a Dutchman called Jan, who was as tone deaf as me sang at full manly volume!

I giggled. I was kinda nervous on his behalf. (How arrogant!)

When I was done giggling I listened. Here’s the weird thing – his really off-key and uncouth voice was harmonising beautifully with the leader’s. Was it because he was belting out the song with great enthusiasm and without a care for what anyone might think of his singing? His deep, raw voice with her sweet, clear voice created something unique and grand.

What a guy! What a great dad!

Of course, I had to talk to him about it later because he really was something else. You know what he said? He started telling me this lovely theory about how our individual voices naturally resonate at a certain frequency which aligns with the frequency of our individual bodies down to a cellular level — and how the act of our singing – no matter how ‘well’ or ’badly’ – is healing for us in a physical and energetic way.

This just made complete sense to me.

So that day I vowed I would mumble-sing in public no longer but sing loud and proud. Hmmmn, let’s just say I’m still working on my confidence levels with this one because about as many people have told me I can’t sing as how very loudly I snore. (Maybe my snoring is just a different kind of singing…. no?)

I wonder if we all sang more – like on the bus (yikes!) or in the street (double yikes) or in the office (fired yikes) whether we wouldn’t have such a powerful need to listen to other’s people’s refined and processed singing recorded in studios? Would people walk about in public with those bloody iPod earplugs in their ears the whole time, or would they listen to someone real, live singing?

If people commonly sang in public, if it was as normal as talking, would we have a completely different, kinder, more understanding, healthier even, society?

Image borrowed from amberpyxiel17.

Smearing stickiness in the dark

So now I’m into a whole new kind of smearing of stickiness in the dark.

OK, I know I’m being a bit indulgent with that title. Let’s face it, I’m cheap. Anyways, I’m having a little dalliance with the idea of going on a moth hunting party.

Uh-huh. That’s right, a moth hunting party. But no moths harmed!

A schmear of stickiness, slick sweetness on a tree. A moth alights. Unfurls its science-fiction spiral tongue and licks away and there’s you with your wee torch (or candle if you’ve uber rustic) getting to stare at the glorious wings and dark wonderfulness of the rather maligned night creature you’ve attracted.

I’m intrigued by the idea of how I might attract winged creatures of the dark. And be a “moth-er”. What about you? You into that idea?

Sure, butterflies are gorgeous. All flamboyant giddiness and elegant sunbeams on flower petal visits.

But moths.

Ooo.

Moths are sensuous and, and, – and they are nocturnal and therefore thrilling! Surely all of us have gotten a fright by a moth suddenly fluttering around at us when we’ve put a light on in the dark?

Moths to me are forever connected to childhood semi somnambulant midnight visits to outside dunnies slipping down rotten wooden steps, squatting over long-drops, perching on the wobbly rims of port-a-loos on sandbanks and various other basic toilets or plain old alfresco peeing and squeals of argh! what’s that fucking soft fluttery erratic cobwebby thing flitting at me, all shadows and confusion and ARGH!

You can’t swat at it because there’s the very serious issue of their dusty wings being so excruciatingly delicate and you killing something in your fearfulness. ‘Do not touch me!’ say these wings. ‘Do not touch me or I will die!’

This sort of do not-ness is very hard for us humans to deal with. When I first learned that if you even delicately, reverently, lovingly touched a moth’s wing you brushed off the dust leaving it crippled so it would die a horrible, long and torturous flutters of helplessness death something inside me wept for the delicacy of life and the colossal power humans have over it.

So, having discovered some months ago a recipe for luring moths to your garden for mutual gain – they have an easy meal, you get to stare at their loveliness and know you attracted them – I am keen to do this, but also strangely frightened. Not of the moths. I don’t know what. Something in me?

Maybe it’s the furtive creeping about in my garden at night and its big bushes and old trees, loud snuffling hedgehogs, previously mentioned foxes, an odd deer(!) as well as the usual squirrels, mice and spiders. [Oh God, one of the cats brought a dead young squirrel to the door today. I think the squirrel fell out of a tree. I took it off the cat since he had already eaten and we left the squirrel on the fox path. The fox has now had it for its supper.]

It’s their world I’d be in.

But. A-ha! It’s our world. Now I discover Moth Hunting Parties arranged by people who can even name the moths you’re looking at! Now, I must confess to having at the moment a very large and spiky bug up my ass about entomologists because of their infuriating continuation, in these days of diminishing and endangered wildlife, to collect bugs and other insects.

It’s estimated that in the UK numbers of moths have HALVED since 1975. So if you ever splatted a moth, I’m sorry to say, you’re part of that dessimation.

However, I do believe that at moth hunting parties collecting is not allowed. No more moths pinned on white card under glass, thanks very much. Now we get to paint sticky fruit on trees and see them at their happiest; alive and eating – even drinking beer! Now that’s the kind of wild party I like.

RSPB’s fabulous, comprehensive resource for attracting moths (and butterflies)

Moth watching in your garden

Recipe for ‘moth brew’ stickiness to attract and feed moths

Moth activities, fun with moths

The Amateur Entomologists Society (UK) Join to go on a moth hunting party but don’t let them persuade you to collect!

The Royal Entomological Society

The image is of a moth resting on a moth whisperer’s hand so it is very safe. It’s a polyphemus moth (whose wings look like another night hunter, the owl, to scare away predators – moths are very smart and know the dangers of the dark, huh?). Photo borrowed from moth whisperer herself,  Lisa Ellersf.