Grateful: Day 127 - On Love, Passion and Being Wrong

I am grateful for that cold water, always there for the taking, even when, some days, it takes a little more effort to get there than others. The sky was stunning, crystal blue with movey clouds with dark grey linings. The air was cold.


As I arrived, there was uncharacteristic raucousness coming from the pond. I'm still not quite sure why. Someone was cheering someone else on. A big splash, a squeal and some very focused, fast front crawl. The changing room was packed and smelt of mushrooms. That smell disappeared in the end, when two of the four ladies had left. It was good that I didn't know who it was who took that smell with them. Like the firing squad and their blank bullets. The finger of blame cannot be pointed with absolute certainty. I'm sure it was on shoes, anyway. I've met all those ladies, and none of them has smelt of mushrooms before. Or there's another option...


I remember feeling silently angry with a man I was sitting near in a rehearsal recently because his trainers smelt horrible. Like mildew rather than feet. I thought 'how hard is it just to spray them or something - why do I have to sit here with that horrible smell up my nose just because he can't be bothered'. And then he left the room and the smell was at least as bad. Blatantly me, that was. My boots. they'd got wet and their syntheticness had shown its true colours by smelling like a musty old cupboard. Very glad I didn't take him aside and have a word. So here's to mushrooms. I'll have a sniff and make double sure.


Grateful for a walk on Hampstead Heath, letting the blood move gently through my body and moving some ideas. I didn't speak much during the first part of today. When that happens, there's no less chatter. It's just inside my head rather than out, and is quite likely to be somewhat less generous than it would be if it was made into words in a mouth. Walking doesn't stop that, but it's as if there's a tap in the top of my head (like trepanning, but with no pain or risk of infection) and some of it gets lifted by the wind or sucked up by the clouds. The air is kind to me. The light. The light was beautiful today, and I was so very grateful to be able to walk and not really know where I was. This magical Heath that's still offering me this gift, though I've now been there many times.

And very grateful for good friends, honest and compassionate enough to say things they really don't think I want to hear, and to ask very difficult questions sometimes. I realise how blessed I am with the people I have in my life. No man is an island, goes the quotation. No person, goes my version. Even islands are only islands because the sea surrounds them. We're not made to do all this on our own. Thank you, peninsula friend. You move tides with your words and reveal a stretch that's safe to walk on, at given times, at least.


I've gorged myself on Ted talks today... a proper fat liverful, I've had. It all started with a talk about marriage and then it spiralled. These three stood out:
http://www.ted.com/talks/helen_fisher_tells_us_why_we_love_cheat.html]
A very clever woman talking with passion and determination about the science behind romantic love and why it's important.
http://www.ted.com/talks/ben_dunlap_talks_about_a_passionate_life.html
A man with an unfathomable accent and a delivery style that makes me believe that he believes every word he's saying with every fibre of himself. 
http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/en/kathryn_schulz_on_being_wrong.html


So it's worth it, then, from the marriage one, to make it important to have a relationship. At least to be open. And not with some weird authority figure who's messing with my head, but with a real, honest person. It is important, of course (typo = curse... Freud!). It is important, and how I feel about it often gets in the way. And from Helen Fisher, I learn about being brave and passionate and remembering to love and about the implications, according to her theories, of long-term anti-depressant use. I need to think about dopamine and attachment and all those technical things, and remember than on their own, they're nothing. 

Zen goat. No reason.

And thanks to Kathryn Schultz, whose talk I've seen before, I learn about the concept of embracing being wrong and failing from an entirely non-impro perspective. I love the idea that how it feels to be wrong is just the same as how it feels to be right. It's not until we REALISE we're wrong that it starts to feel bad (if we've got into the habit of getting things wrong being associated with bad feelings, which most of us have). 


Thank you for idea-filled skype chats with Rob - I love that things can shape that way. Just fingers tapping away and thoughts coming from somewhere and there they are, saved, and often happening.


And thank you for the internet connection which failed regally mid-chat, and almost at the end of my blog, and made me switch off and go to bed. It may not have happened for a while otherwise, and I really needed it.