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October, 2015:

“Oh, I think that I found myself a cheerleader” Omi.

Relationships – they’re complex. And in a partnership where neither party is willing to play the role of surrender, where both individuals are in their own rights destined for greatness, in their way, in their field, in their spiritual destinies, then who steps back? Who understands? Who stands – under? And what are the implications of that?
Behind every successful man is a great woman. This was the core belief of the earlier decades of the 1900’s and we – women – we took our sense of significance from this saying, and were content to remain in the background, supports, cheerleaders, happy and appreciative of being able to bask in the glow of our partner, who took the limelight.
But this generation, this time, this era, this year, this now – now – the cheerleaders take centre stage, now the women are the supernovas – the vanguard of the new millennium – the women who live their passion, live their dreams, embrace their capabilities, their multifaceted beings – with no apologies, no holds barred, no false, obligated sense of demure, coy, femininity.
We are as beautiful, as feminine, as gentle, as soft and tender as we always, ever were, however, we are taking centre stage – ironically – as cheerleaders, but oh, not the cheerleaders who are content to stand on the side-lines yelling for the men who optimise their potential, who have the stage, while we women cheerlead looking pretty and yelling “go team go!”
We ARE the team! We learn the lessons! We hold the floor! We ARE the main attraction!!!
We are the flyers.
We are the understanders.
We are the supporters.
We are the leaders.
Holding each other up.
Supporting each other.
The strength under one another’s heights. The power holding each other up. The flyers reaching new heights.
Cheerleading as only women know how!
And this is what we have learnt, as women. As supporters, as under standers, with years of knowing what it takes to have someone’s back, with years of longing to fly.

 
We have learnt that you always catch the flyer. The woman who soars, the woman who reaches new heights, who achieves, who has the ability to sparkle, to shine, to win – you don’t bring her down, you don’t let her fall.
You don’t let your flyer hit the floor. Ever. You catch the flyer when she falls. Everytime, and she will fall. Of course she will. But you have to say, with unwavering confidence:
She didn’t hit the floor!
In cheerleading jargon, as a good friend related to me – in the first person – and it’s too well expressed for me to incorporate it into my soap box tirade in any other fashion than the exact transcript in which it was related to me:
“She didn’t hit the floor – that’s the main thing!! As long as the flyer does not hit the floor, it’s ok with me.
I don’t care if I got smacked in the face or anything like that. I managed to catch her. She was lying on top of me. Don’t stress – she didn’t hit the floor. It’s ok. Its ok that she was lying on top of me, although, once I knew she was ok, I had to say “can you get off me now?”
She came down at such a bizarre angle – who does that?
The flyer trusts me not to let her fall. I will trust me. I’ts ok if you fall.
(The vulnerability)
The flyer trusts me Not to let her fall, and if I do, I will try my absolute best so that she does not hit that floor. It’s ok if they land on top of me, because I can cushion the blow for them and then we carry on. If you fall, it’s ok, if you stuff up, I’ts fine. I’ve got you – you don’t need to worry. Just hit that stunt and trust that I’ve got you. Its about trust. The trust test. Especially if you’re fighting with someone, you’ve got to know that they’re gonna put their shit aside and still be there when they need you. Yes, we’ve fought, but when it comes to a lift, we still have each other’s backs.
Its my family – and I’d be damned if I’d be the reason they got hurt!
It’s not happening.”

Oh, if only, ladies, women, girls, if only we would directly transpose that onto our own lives, live that philosophy, be that support for each other.
The strength, the power and the impact of womanhood! The sayings “strike a woman – strike a rock” and “The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world” would then hold value, and what an amazing world it would be for all of our girl children.

 

Conflicting chaos.

My friend – stranger – beautiful searching soul -
Like everyone else on this planet, I am just stumbling alone, trying to make sense of it all. Of what is right, what is good, what life is really all about. And my own opinions conflict with each other so dynamically – its like a proton and neutron – a positive and negative clash – both useful and both powerful in their own rights, but put them on the same frequency and it’s a collision course! And so I operate on one frequency level – the high – the passion – the energy – the embracing of everything – the vibe where even your muscles contract in the anticipation of LIFE, of lust, love, longing to live – really live! To explode both into and onto life! And that’s where I usually operate.
I am the flyer. I like to be tossed up into the air and hope like hell that someone on the ground will catch me – and usually – they do! I like the feeling of flying, tumbling, moving, spinning. So much more than the firm and solid strength- which has it’s own power- its own gratification.
I like the sense of freedom – the adrenaline, the high.
But every now and then – the world, and it’s energies and it’s demands and it’s motion gets too much for me and I have to change frequencies. I have to hide away and be alone and check out, and isolate myself – just for a while – just till the mud has settled and the silence brings answers. Just till my feet are grounded again, solid and firm. Till clarity comes – of who I am and what I want and how to proceed. Until I build – until I develop the muscles that are required for supporting – until then – I retreat. Introspection time. Time to think. Analyze. To proceed differently, more wisely. With control. With common sense. With common sense.
Until that frequency again becomes mundane, as it always does. Until that again becomes too much of a heavy burden. The seriousness of life. And to breath, we need to fly. We need to soar. We need to spin – without control. Up in the air.
And that is why I know, I will always fly.

“passion killed by the comfort of time” (parlotones)

‘It’s stirring, it’s moving, it’s growing, it’s exploding!! Can you feel it? Can you feel the energy. It’s pulsating through my veins.
Is it reckless to live as if I were dying?
Is it reckless to discard convention and suck the marrow out of life? Is it bravery?
Is it brave to live with passion or is it passion itself that defies cowardice? That overrules logic, common sense, rules and conventions? Is passion that powerful? Can passion be harnessed, and restrained – yes, indeed it can be, but does that not result in passion itself vaporising? For it will not be contained, and thus, if it finds itself so imprisoned, it will alter its very form in order to sustain its life.
Passion has a life force and an energy, a momentum and a power all of its own. It’s like some sea anemone trapped in a glass container of tap water. It can not survive under such conditions, yet because of its very nature, because passion is in and of itself, a living force – it will not slowly pulsate less and less aggressively, until it beats only once in a while and then succumbs to the external environment and stops beating altogether. No, passion will, when trapped, metamorphosize into a gas, a vapour, any form it can , that escapes the hold that the circumstances have over it – it finds a way to squeeze out of the strangle hold that life has over it, that it might find flight, find air, breathe and begin again to THROB, again, to throb and throb with an energy that is all consuming, that moves the planet, that alters the very future of humanity.
For it is the passion of a single teacher to build a strong vision, the passion that oozes from her pores, and seeps into the hearts and the minds of the future of the nation. The passion that sparks an “I can” in just one mind, the catalyst if you will for one impressionable being to be energised by that same life force – passion. And if just two or three of those beings say “what if?” What if we did things differently? What if we changed a philosophy, a perception, a methodology, then that passion lives, and thrives and literally breeds in another generation. Is it far fetched then to say that passion has its own life force? I don’t think so. Because I am one such helplessly drowning participant in the pool of passion. And it is a pool, you spiral and drown and are immersed in its flow, in its strength, in its force.
It is the passion of a single journalist to say – I will bring this story to light, at the expense of my own well being, but I will bring this perspective, this truth at this time to this world.
It is the passion of a single doctor to say – its NOT ok for a virus to thrive when we have the means, the finances, the knowledge to alleviate suffering, and I will work tirelessly to bring to this world what I was born to do.
It is the passion of a single mother to say I will not desert, I will not deny, I will not give less than, for an act that produced a life holds me accountable to another being and I will give and provide and guide and love with every ounce of myself.
The passion that drives you, motivates you, brings the spark, the flame into your eyes, before it becomes a discipline, before terms are applied to it, like goal, or career – that passion that affects every organ in your body, and will allow itself to be interpreted in many physical ways, the pulse that beats faster, the eyes that widen, the stomach that contracts, that twists in an agony of bliss, or anticipation, the breath that is sharply drawn in, the tingling sensation that ripples down your spine. That passion. Is it reckless to act on it’s power?
That passion disregards self preservation, yet heightens being attuned to forces that lead and guide us into our destiny.
Its that passion that makes life worth living. For me.
I am not an extreme sports participant, my career is humble and possibly a little mundane, my life is fixed in space and time and routine. Safe. Stable. Secure.
Marked time.
But, ‘It’s stirring, it’s moving, it’s growing, it’s exploding!! Can you feel it? Can you feel the energy. It’s pulsating through my veins.

 

Colder Weather … Zac Brown Band

Whatever your issues are, and I don’t know what they are, and it’s irrelevant. When you are lovers, the solution is always the same. Always. Every time. Irrespective of the issue.

You need to decide one thing only. Is this worth fighting for? If the burden feels more than you can carry, if it causes that crushing feeling in your heart, like a truck is on top of your chest, and you cant breathe – then – don’t mark time – don’t tell yourself – don’t let your thoughts over-ride what your soul already knows. It’s so easy to do. Because we think we know what we want. We think we know what we need. We think we ought to follow the plan, the route that our minds mapped out for us, but our souls did not. Because the soul perceives before the brain. The mind only perceives through the senses and the senses are fickle at best, but the soul has a map that few have the courage to follow.

To endure and prolong only causes more pain. For everyone involved. For the person with whom you have cast as the best protagonist in your life’s movie. And also for the freedom your soul hungers for.

However, if the answer “Is this worth fighting for?” If the answer is Yes! Yes! Oh my G-d – a resounding yes! Then you only have one choice lover. You have to lay down your life. Then it’s about her. All about her. Her needs, her wants, the fulfillment of her dreams. You get to live vicariously. She gets to live. Ad you lay it down willingly and in gratitude to her, because through her, you gain pleasure. Through her, you gain.

But you learn of sacrifice and of selflessness. And of surrender.

Surrender everything.

Surrender the right to be right.

Surrender the ego.

Surrender the war that you build in yourself, because you want to be heard.

Surrender your ideas and your plans.

Surrender is still good. Sacrifice is damn hard. And few can do it.

Yet, it’s the exact same act. One done willingly, one done out of discipline.

So, it’s still just a simple decision. Listen to your gut. Not to your heard. Your soul knows.

Good luck my lover. Good luck my friend. Life is not easy. But it is always good.

I am the eye in the sky, looking at you, I can read your mind. Alan Parsons Project

“She is the keeper of dreams. Look carefully and you will see. She sits on her throne holding all your hopes and dreams.”

Woman.

I am only just beginning to understand what you are. How to manage being in you. Moving with you, walking with you, negotiating who you are and what you ought to be. And we have journeyed these 42 long years together. I am only just starting to embrace you, learn you, know you and celebrate you. I haven’t given you permission to make yourself known, and in your subservience, you wouldn’t fight to be known.  That is how you defined yourself. As subservient. A term so derogatory in its very etymology. Sub- the prefix for below, for under, for less. Servient, reminiscent of servant, servile, bonded and only  in existence as a tool for another’s use. Oh woman! We have wept many tears together, over so very many issues. And if only we had known, that all we were weeping over, the only thing we mourned was the abdication of your supremacy. In your life. Your own loss of being. Your own loss of self. The tears that ostensibly flowed for lost loves, for lack of love, for desperation, flowed for the keeper of dreams, to whom you would not, could not yet give permission to open that box of dreams, and allow them to take shape, to formulate, to begin to define the woman you are.

I am only beginning to smile at you. To smile at all of you. Who you are and your ilk. To have wanted and searched and longed for so many years to know who you are, and to be discovering only now, only the surface. And not yet allowing myself full permission quiet yet. Rather still allowing you to be defined by those who can’t possibly have a clue.

You are who you are. You are power. But you don’t know how to wield it. You are beauty, but you don’t know how to wear it. You are strong, but you don’t know how to show it. But I see it now. At least now, I see it. And the more I am able to see, the more willing you are to reveal. Be safe. Know that it will be ok. Know that the revelation can only bring freedom. Freedom comes in many guises though. So do not be disappointed in the guise in which freedom chooses to come, for that will be the precise form and shape that you most need. Maybe freedom is synonymous with a birthright. Maybe its synonymous with fulfillment, maybe with sufficiency. Irrespective of how she   shows up, the fact that you are wanting to stand in your strength, your way, your rules, your game, your definitions, that in itself is a freedom.  And you are doing it on home turf. On homeground, where spectators are always most critical, most judgmental and most likely to disallow the new, disallow a redefinition, disallow a metamorphosis.

That is brave.

Woman, you have faced your demons. And the universe has conspired to present them to you, and you, you have taken them on, head on. And won. You win because you have embraced, and said – so what? What now? What power do you hold over me, now that I have looked you in the eye, and taken you into my arms, and held you closest to where you could hurt me the most, and I – yes, I have disallowed your power. I have disregarded your strength. Not because its a case of either mine or yours, because you are free to continue with your power and your strength, but not at my expense.

Woman, you have had the courage at last to disregard what has been spoken to you and to experiment with what feels good and right and honest and true. Your truth.  You have disregarded so many words, so many opinions that would have wanted to guide and mold you in the image that they would hold of who you ought to be, how you ought to think, the way in which you ought to behave. And you are beginning only now, to understand that what you are, who you are is beautiful. Abundant. True. Your beauty. Your abundance. Your truth.

 

The Power of Love…. (Jennifer Rush)

Life is like that. We negotiate meaning out of our interactions. That’s all that life is really. A series of negotiations. I am really only another soul trying to negotiate meaning – with you – as my mirror – with you as my conduit, with you as the reflection that I am able to see at this time. That’s all really.
If I paint my life story the way I want you to hear it – the portion of it that I have compartmentalized – no more – no less, then please, do not think I am misrepresenting the truth, or myself. I am only opening one tiny shutter in the advent calender that is my life. Be grateful for just that view. It’s only that aspect of my life that you are able to reflect to me; and perhaps – I am only able, right now, to examine, to acknowledge, to begin to digest that part of me.
We are fragmented, disjointed, complex, trillion billion piece puzzles. And you are the corresponding counterpart for only one, perhaps a handful of my pieces, and when, upon the rare occasion, you look into someone’s eyes deeply – and there is an instant recognition, an attraction, a moment that takes your breath away – that gasp is like your soul’s cry – “it’s me!” Your mirror holds a greater angle than others have or do. And I need to negotiate more meaningfully with you than I do with others.  And how do I do that? How do I hold you towards myself so that the view can hold the greatest degree of significance?

It’s instinctual – it’s almost a primeval reflex. So overwhelmed by the desire to hold your truth – to have you feel mine. So attracted to your soul – to touch your being – that I gently want to kiss you.

And in that kiss is the mirror, responding, matching desire, equally soft, equally gentle, equally hungry, equal desire. And perhaps, that moment, that encounter is all that is needed. Perhaps that is all we can manage. Perhaps it is enough. For now. Sufficient.

Perhaps that power is too strong, and that is frightening. The  power of attraction.