Day 634: Guatemala Bliss Bits

How lucky am I! I'm in Antigua, Guatemala with two incredible women, Annie and Sonia, and I've just been up a volcano. 

This has to be brief, and I'll be internetless for a while from now, but I just wanted to get some of this down - some of the loveliness that is. 

Annie is American. She was offered to me by my lovely friend Kim (mmmm, tasty person) and she invited me to come out and work with the girls she and Sonia work with. Sonia is 20 and she comes from a beautiful part deep in the forests of Guatemala. She teaches over 115 girls from remote Mayan communities in the Rio Dulce area of Guatemala. ASOEMPO wants to create better conditions, education and opportunity and a stronger sense of self and self-confidence for girls. They also work with boys. I can't even go into how fantastic the work is, and how impressed I am with them both, in their own ways. I've also just found out that they're expecting 75 girls and young women to come to the workshop. BEYOND excited! I'm currently jet lagged, so my Spanish has taken a knock this afternoon, but as a general thing, it's flowing more freely and luckily, I (with others) run a course called Be Yourself In Any Language, which means that I have the techniques to be clear and confident in my communication whether the words are right or not. 


Today's joys included the feeling when the bus that was due to pick us up at 5.50 finally pulled in at 6.15, when I was just about to give up on it, and the lovely man who let us in and drove us to the volcano; watching birds that I think were buzzardy vulturey things, hover over the beautiful Guatemalan landscape; tickling the belly of a beautiful stray girl dog. She did smiling with her face and opened up her legs and belly in complete trust and strokey bliss. I liked her so much, I gave half my lunch to her and her bony little body. Guatemala is a land of dogs, loved and kept, stray and tolerated. So far they've all been very peaceful and well up for a stroke. More than once today, I've had a dog in each hand. That's my open-bellied bliss, that.

Feeding small pieces of watermelon to a sharp-eyed black singy bird in the main square in Antigua. He came back and got closer in his melon-gathering; buying a beautiful cloth I didn't need from a street trader because of my delight at her delicious 4-month-old girl, who smiled and laughed and engaged from her mama's back. She was Karine. Her mama was Micheaela. She told me we were all gifts from god. I liked her and her lovely warmth. I loved her baby! 

Laughing with Sonia in the bus, up the volcano, on the way back, and doing the same with her and Fiona Sweny off of my yoga training, who just happens to be here and may visit me/us in the Rio Dulce. 

People are so warm here. I love how willing they are to smile back, from a little girl in the back of a lorry we were behind to people in the street. They smile with full eye action and so much warmth. I'm impressed and blessed. 

I'm off on a long trip tomorrow and will end up in the jungle, so I'll love you for ever and speak to you soon. Big love and keep smiling. 

Day 633: As Creatures Go

Where did my lovely post go? I done a great big one full of all the tasty lovely people who've blessed me over the last (then last) week, and it's upped and disappeared. That'll teach me to dally on the posting of it. The good bit, though, is that it doesn't stop those people having been very, very lovely.

Yesterday was the winter solstice and it was enriched on many fronts. An afternoon swim by invitation (an invitation to all the women who swim there, not an exclusive one). We swam and then we did a jumpy-up-and-downy solstice ceremony together. It was cold. A few of us chased each other before the seriousness of the ceremony started. After that, we were well serious (almost).

After that, we made our various ways back to the home of lovely artist Jane (and what an artist's pad it was - wood everywhere, carved with love, a studio and a high, almost secret mezzanine bed, carved art, high ceilings, light and loveliness. We had another ceremony there, which involved cake and crumpets, prayer ties, four directions, more laughter and a little bit of crying (not from me this time - odd). Lots of giving of thanks. A little bit of foot massage. 

In the evening, a lovely, magical healing (it's all so surprisingly magical... I'm impressed) and just general sweet vibes. Very lucky, I am, as creatures go.

Day 631: Best Face Ever

After a week of not using them as normal, I'm finding my legs again. The bike is out and the hills are welcoming. I'm loving the push of it and the tense and release. I'm loving the hills and the breath and the flow.

look at that face!

I'm feeling very loved and full of flow right now. A week's retreat with wonderful people, more hugs than you can shake a stick at, some truly enriching conversations and lots and lots of warmth and laughter have dropped me back to London all nourished and full up. 

And today, my favourite face is here (with the man that accompanies it), lovely, rich-delicious Steen Haakon Hansen, in my actual house, in London; not in Copenhagen or Odsherred, or even on a stage somewhere, but hanging out in my front room and walking my haunts with me in the cold of the winter heath, and talking and planning and hatching and dreaming. 

Here's to tomorrow, with warm, sweet mornings.

Day 630: Dog Toff

stop doing this to me

One tiny dog in a tweed jacket has the power to make a person's whole day, if that person is me. 

This morning, I was thrilling at the fact that now is the time where dogs strut their stuff in a range of clothes that would put C&A to shame not for reasons of (their owners' idea of) canine fashion, but because it's cold and they're little or lanky or maybe even hairless. It's very funny. I saw a spaniel in a wax jacket and a tiny mongrel in a jumper. There was tartan in the park, as well as wool and fleece. I haven't yet seen a pug in a hoodie, but it's only a matter of time. 

tiny tweedy toff

This evening, though, as Greg got Aristotle ready to take him out on a man & dog date, out came the sheepskin-lined tweed - retail price £115 from Harrods (though he got his for £20 - still expensive per inch of dog, in my book). He looked like a proper little English toff, that dog and my day, in that instant, was made.

I draw the line at shoes - there's no need for them and most photos of dogs in shoes leave no doubt as to how at ease the creature feels. Rollerskates too, but they've also almost gone so far down the Wrong road that they're funny again. 

fuck this shit

My first frost of the year, swim-wise. I hate to be cold, but when, in Wales last week, I saw frost on the grass in the morning, I ached in my belly to be swimming in the cold water and daring my dive. I didn't dare my dive this morning. The water has dropped to five degrees and my head-under plunges resulted in the harshest of sinus screams and proper frozen brains, so I need to source a hat or two - two swimming caps does the trick, apparently, though I'll have to put them on after the dip and before the dive. 

There's something exhilarating about stepping in when the grass is white in the field. This morning, after a week away and a drop of three degrees, ice on the neighbouring ponds and a last-minute borrowed pair of gloves, I made many sounds on the way round and as I moved from steps to free float, the word 'sensation' came out of my mouth repeatedly. When my beautiful friend Lilley had a baby, she banned the use of the word 'pain' and used 'intense sensation' all the way through. It helped. She was there for four days, so thank goodness it did!

I'd smile at anything, though

My body hurt and rejoiced simultaneously. It stung and prickled and I felt the blood shrink back into my core, abandoning anything at a tip and starving the skin. Once out, the collected ladies commented on the vibrancy of the shades of red and purple each other's legs had gone on getting out. Some were kaleidoscopic in their colours. Others slightly scary. Mine were vivid pink, with blue lines, haloed white, where the slow veins are. I wonder if my diet change will affect them. 

Day 629: Rats and Flatbreads

Lovely to see Rob, though I was slightly late, having jammed in a swim as an absolute must. My hands still cold, Rob wrapped them, one by one, in his ovened flatbread when his dinner came. A first, today. Not a last. Next time a hot flatbread is delivered to a table near me, I'm in. Five stars, I say. Did my fingers a whole new world of good. 

It had to happen today. I was late, but I had to be held in that water womb today. It's not just nipping, at 8 degrees, it's got teeth. I was out of my clothes and in the water within a minute, but I let it hold me for a reasonable time. I was going to say respectable, but there's no such thing. Stay in as long or as short as you like, it's not a competition, it's a gift. 

never leave a rat and a flatbread unattended

I was late, and it's fine to rush the clothes off, but the second I'm on the steps,the slow, calm ritual begins. However rushed I am, I take the steps steadily, stepping off and stepping in. Sometimes with a lurch, but not for speed. Then I bathe in sensation. Why come here just to rush that bit. I feel every inch of skin and flesh find itself within the cold. I wait it out. I plunge, head under, and pop up (like the cormorant does, only for shorter). I shake my head dog-like and swim on. 

I was transfixed by the cormorant, ugly-elegant, black-beaked and curious. It looked concentrated but not, like the heron, on the water - balanced on the life ring, it had its head lifted up to the sky. As I gazed and cooed at its beauty, it suddenly spewed forth a stream of white waste into the water - a spout, if you like, of shag-shit. I laughed and it went back to being gnarly and stunning. 

As I turned and headed back towards the hut, I spotted rats. Two of them, I saw. Swimming woman Val said three. Fat and happy, they went about their business, jumping up and down steps. Just animals. Not gross or cute, but pleasing. None of them dived in. They're good little swimmers, apparently. I did, and drank in that moment of dark nothing as I cross the water's line. Lost. And then the ice cream headache and the bliss smile and the glee at having done it one more day, even though I was scared. 

Cold shower: aaaarrrrggghh!

Back inside, Val and I discussed whether to shower hot or cold this time of year. She chose cold today. I chose hot. She chose better. With cold, it still feels warmer than the pond. It's harsh on the head, the cold, but the hot opens up your pores and confuses your body. It wants to concentrate on warming up the core, but then we warm it with hot water and the blood can't do anything but come up to meet it, so the superficial warmth runs cold deeper into your veins. Cold shower, hot bucket for feet and hands (lovely mental image, all folded in like a shrimp). Next time, in a week, when the world has changed. 
Till then, big love.
And gratitude.

Day 628: Flit

Stalker

If I hadn't blogged, the kingfisher would have been forgotten. I saw it this morning, flitting like imagination above the surface, flashing green-blue sheen at the world. Just by being the colour he is, he lifts my spirits right up. I still don't know if he's a boy or a girl, but it seems sloppy, and I think of him as he. 

It wasn't this cold

Yesterday, I was startled by the stillness of the heron. It was my first time in the water for a few days and the temperature had dropped a degree or so, so I was fairly concentrated on noticing the different sensations in my body, and the disconnect because of my gloved hands, when I saw him. Still as stone - I even thought someone might have put a garden centre heron there for a laugh, and then the gentlest angling of his head helped me notice the intensity of his stare into the water. He was stalking like cats do, only with more elegance, no waggling of bottom and a completely different tale. 

Actual stalker

He struck me as a stalker, though right now, everyone does. I've been watching The Fall, see. It makes me think that everyone's about to kill me horribly, especially warm-eyed, handsome men with beards and lilting accents. Or just men. The other day, when the taxi driver announced he was taking me a different route because the roads were too foggy, I looked at his very intense eyes in the rear-view mirror and seriously considered sending a few texts to say goodbye. He dropped me off beautifully and helped me with my bag, of course, but even that could be a sign!


The Fall is well worth it, if you like thrillers. Of course there is nasty violence against women. Of course there is. It's a police drama. And there are some intensely brilliant characters, fine performances and some ace writing. You decide. And Gillian Anderson is entirely mesmerising, like an actual hypnotist. When she's on the screen, I have to be looking. She is poised and elegant and real. I kind of want to be her. 

TEDx joy with Kate Faragher

I'm full of thankfulness for The TEDx Brixton people, especially Stephanie Busari, for sorting this shit out. A bit like when I went to Australia, I'd wanted to for so very long, it was 'a dream come true' just doing it. If it had been the worst thing ever, it would have been amazing. Actually, it was quite nice. I found orchids and bull mastiffs, discovered permaculture and Denny's and lots of dangerous bugs. So now I've done a TEDx talk. I think my job is do some more research and testing and make something tangible out of these ideas... experiment. 

Ha: google images result for 'a call to dance'

Thank you to Sue Rickards - not only is she the best, most down-to-earth 5 Rhythms teacher I know and a lovely creature, she's also a committed brilliant person (and she's got an ace face and a very pleasing demeanour). She holds space like no other, is grounded and playful and runs monthly Spuds for North Korea nights after the Saturday wave, to raise money for Amnesty's work there trying to get people out of prison camps and trying to improve human rights in the country. You can support it too, if you like. Give that there link a click and find out some more. If you want to hear a bit more without reading stuff, watch this clip. It's not the easy option, though. It makes a tough bit of viewing, though well worth it. 

It's such a great night, too, the post spud thing. People bring music and stuff to perform and they hang out till late. I'm getting there. By next time, I'll have something to sing and I'll learn to accompany it on the guitar, and I'll do a thing. This time, I chatted with a few people and then went home (very much needed). They raised lots of money, though, and it was an all round bag of brilliance. 

I had another fight dance with one person. I loved that, I did. Didn't know I was in the mood for it, but it turns out I was. Lots of snarling and a little bit of gnashing of teeth. Mint! I also had a massage dance with lovely Oliver, who went straight for the bit of my body that is the most painful when touched (my right instep) and landed a thumb right on the point that makes me cringe - good energy, though, so I breathed through it/sucked it up. It was just what I needed last night - some epic hugs and some crazy stomping, and then some focus on other people. Big love, Sue, and thanks. 

There is so much more... THIS is why doing this daily is the way to go. 

Day 627: Covet, Covet

Is it by chance that this holy gentleman is
hot as all shit? I think it's not. 

Ooh, 627 is a nice number, isn't it? It has the fat, even solidness of six and the slim, niney slickness of 27. I like it a lot. 

I am roundly grateful for the opportunity to speak at the Sunday Assembly in Brighton yesterday. It was lovely. I wasn't allowed any profanities because of children in the room, so I had to change my slides. The profanity was near the bottom of the scale of such things, but a profanity nevertheless. Good job they caught it in their swear net. I'd have looked like a right nobber if I'd sworn. I like what they do there and I loved speaking for them, and I'm so grateful that my poorly head (I wasn't very well Sat or Sun) kept at bay for the duration of the talk, and only rushed back up on my way home, where I got to go to bed for a bit. 

I haven't spoken in a church and I was aching to jump up into the terribly earnest-looking pulpit. Before I went to the secret toilet in the building, someone said 'Don't be tempted to put on the cassock that's hanging up in there.' I wanted to shout 'Are you the Devil? Are you Temptation in helpful Sunday Assembly Person form?' I didn't don the cassock, but I looked at it with desirous eyes throughout my wee (which is Wrong, surely). It was white and yellow and embroiderdy. I coveted it. 

Bzzzzzzzzz

I am reminded of lovely John Helmer every time I say the word 'covet'. I worked with him about 15 years ago, quite briefly, in the back of someone's house. He once came in and looked at something I had and cooed 'covet, covet' and I have loved that ever since. He also once lifted his black bike helmet to his face and pretended to be a bluebottle. The third pleasing thing I remember about him is that he used the word 'bereft' in my goodbye card. The drama of it, and the sweetness! Delicious. Some people are just good value. He is most definitely one of them. 

I continue to be blessed with a raft of good men and women in my life. I'm very, very grateful for them. They are all so different, too. I'm grateful for the support I get, and the honesty that's offered up, and for people being themselves, in easy situations and in hard ones, and being honourable, creative and frank. 

This is a roasted guinea pig. Food with hands.

I loved the coaching group call that I ran. I'm doing them every Sunday at the moment (and one Monday, 1st December). It's a very pleasing thing to do. I'm really enjoying that, and the speaking. I love a good speak. I always get a bit nervous and I often feel less prepared than I'd like to, but I understand that this is part of the adrenalin-mustering process and that this is part of why I love it so much. I'm a sucker for a Q&A session too. Can't beat not knowing what's coming next. 

Time to perform more, I think. Time to play. Thank you. 

Day 626: Oh, Peas

Oh, how pleasing to work with those frank Frank people again. That Mr Bett, he's a good one. And he does make me laugh. My lunch, courtesy of some accounting people, was delicious as anything. Two types of peas! (not two types of pea... there were peas cooked as peas and peas cooked as fat mush. They are different types of pea, but I remain unmoved by this naming... well moved by the peas). I fucking love peas, I do.

Mist rising on the pond this morning, or rather hanging out. Hanging in there. The cold made my face make shapes today, stepping in. No noises at that stage, but a few involuntary phoos on the way round. Happy ones. Exhilarated ones. Sensation-filled exhalations and a dog-like head shake after going under. 

The gull was unnervingly silent. No shouting or name-calling, or chest-chrushed cawing, like a teenage boy trying to whistle or blow smoke rings. My dive felt ungainly and surprisingly plungey. The lady watching called it 'magnificent'. Hearing that made the unexpected depth feel like a fine thing rather than a mistake. 

Sweet Laura filled my morning with richness, stories and groundedness, and a trip to Marks & Spencer. Chai, apparently, is hard to come by in Madrid. Not in M&S. 

I'm all excited for this evening and tomorrow, and I'm working with those lilty-clear voices in my ears and a whole load of bubbles in my belly. Sweet!

Day 625: Joyous Fuck-up

Oooh, how delicious: tonight [Thursday], I done a talk at ImpactHub Kings Cross and it was ace. It was called Fuck-Up Nights and it's part of a thing that started in Mexico City where you talk to an audience about a failure you did. And I now know how much I love to talk to an audience, and how scared I am of failure, and how good it is for me to risk some. The routine is often very similar. Leave it a bit late. Have a structure but not many specifics. Shit it a bit. Get round to doing the first bit (in this case, putting the slides together) enjoy it hugely and then realise how much else there is to do.

It always comes together, partly because I love a good bit of pants-seating and I especially like things when they move over to questions. I am much more at ease with that bit. And I like talking to people and finding out what it is they're interested in. And I like watching faces in audiences. 

It was lovely to meet that Annick Rau, finally, who has been a figment on the Hub ether for a number of years, but who turns out, in fact, to be an actual person, and a fabulous one at that. 

She can manipulate soup. And sing!

And then I had a bit of a Ruth & Eddie feeding frenzy, which was lovely and playful and a bit like having a tasty, healthy snack for the soul (though it also involved filthy noodles). Theatre in Greenwich on Friday, and some comedy DLR take-out consumption (including Ruth's Outstanding Two-pot Soup Manipulation Technique TM) and then on Saturday, a chilled evening with Eddie's mum too and the blessed presence of Greg and Aristotle, some beauuuuuuuuutiful music (of course), lots of ease and laughing and brains and youtube, and a bit of fruit juice. 

Their voices are still with me, not only in my head now, but on their CD! Voices like birds flying around each other, dipping and soaring, dancing and sweetly preening. And Ruth solo singing: I never knew so much music could be contained in each note; I have heard angels breathe through her, and it's clear they love to do it. 

In between, a marvellous healing session with Natalya - bowed down with gratitude. It comes at a good time and it was lovely to see her. My ovaries are dancing. They're doing something, anyway, possibly Ceroc. It was a deep one. Thank you thank you.

Thanks, Greg, for a lovely gift - a charity shop mirror of perfect dimensions. I love it and the thing he said that made me cry. I'm a crier, me, and it was lovely too. Thank you, Macarena... you know things that can help me stop being such an easy weeper, maybe.

I have swum in that water every day and every day its healing richness gets richer, the dive is fruitfuller. Today was topped off with tea and toast and kumquat jam in the lifeguards' hut thanks to beautiful artist Jane, with whom I may dance on Tuesday. 
I've got a leaky henna patty on my head. I just thought you should know. 

Day 624: Head Up, Buttock Off

The water has been hovering at around ten degrees for the last five days or so. It's amazing how quickly it becomes normal. The first day that it was ten, having dropped from eleven and a half, I felt the pinch on my fingers and toes all the way around and for a good while after. Someone pointed out that we all looked pink like sausages on most body parts, but yellowy-pocked like plucked chickens on any part that's been in a glove or a neoprene sock. I'm still pink. I'm not a ninja, I just don't know where I've left my gloves. it's cold enough. 

I'm enjoying it though, and now some days have passed, I've got used to the presence of the water's nip and the ice cream headache I get after diving in. It doesn't last. I'll delay the digging out of gloves until the water tells me to. 

Today, I went late. Fighting off a cold, I'd stayed in bed first thing instead of rushing up and out. My sloth paid dividends, on every front. By afternoon, the sun was out, picking out tree tops and lighting up the leaves. I wasn't sure if I'd missed my boat - it closes early in the winter - but there it was. The changing room was full and buzzing with some kind of conspiratorial giddiness. We talked racing and diving, buttocks and the lack of them, The Nation's Favourite Sandwich, insults (you cheeky mare, you effing boozer among today's favourites) and whether we're ladies, women or, god forbid, females. There was all sorts of ungainly cackling and joyfulness, culminating in a decision to hold a collective buttock-off to find the Ladies' Pond's Favourite Buttock, or thereabouts, and a commitment by me to annoy someone in the hope of getting a better insult from my target than ever before. 

I've never once regretted swimming, although with the cold I'm carrying and the cough, I'd almost planned to today. Not a chance. That place is balm and balsam for my soul - I'd say for any soul and I'd believe it, but perhaps for you, it's something else or another place that gives you the wonderful community and calm that I get there; the humour and the love; the bodies - our nakedness is a joy to me. And the thing is (a thing highlighted by my search for bum shots, which threw up loads of porn and women posing sexy whatever they are doing rather than just getting the fuck on with it) that I love the variation of bodies. They are ALL beautiful in their very difference, in all their range of shapes. I don't need to see anyone 'doing' sexy, thanks. That's not what's hot to me, male or female.

I've been blessed with some wonderful, kind comments over the last few days. Thank you, Vic, for building up my heart with being funny and brilliant and direct and for championing me beyond all requirements.  A twat, always, and a most beloved one. Thanks, Carey, for your sane and compassionate support, for a cup of coffee and for saying something so lovely to me that you then rushed off 'to be sick' (your words). Thanks Eddie and Ruth - every time - for delighting me with your rich and vibrant selves and with your dance. 

Macarena, your juicy wisdom and presence. Margaret from afar, with the sweetest words. Fiona, unfailingly astute and supportive - I aspire to be as skilled and heartful as you are. Thanks, N, for your lesson. I am humbled and gratefulled by it. Thanks, Ruth, for unfailing love and concern. Thanks, Rob. Your honesty and care is fuel to me. Thanks, Abdou, for your patience and your challenge. Thank you, Ned. And Nick. Thanks, Cuphead, for telling me my arse is lovely as a place to be while I need to be there. I stayed up there for a while. I think I'm back now.

Anyway, anyone who says my arse is lovely in such a sweet and funny way is my friend forever. 

I have to sleep now, or this cold will get the better of me. Remind me, though, to tell you about Pronoia and that Tiu de Haan. They rock. 

Day 623: A Banquet of Friends

Look at this sweet fruit!

Macarena was a delicious, juicy pleasure to behold and be held by. Clever clever clever clever and discerning and listeny, direct and flowing. She filled me up with nutritious wonderfulness. She was a gift. 

Sweet, rich angel Ruth made her music, and she blew me away, with that and with her playful loveliness before. Eddie was magnificent as always (Ruth's apt word) and I loved seeing his rapt attention on her every breath as he drummed for her. Poetry, that was, written by two sweethearts, sweet hearts. 

Look at these lovely faces!

Each one of these fine friends is a pleasure through and through. All together (especially as they now know and like each other), they fed me so much fuller than any meal. And still I caught my train and was (almost) in bed before midnight.  

And oh, those pond ladies! About 45 of them on Halloween morning, in hats and costumes, bearing pumpkins, waffles and sweet roasted potatoes (like little eyeballs, warm and giving between teeth). There were spiders and cobwebs, shivering and so much laughter. There was hooting and howling. There was bobbing and scaring. I did quite a lot of the scaring in my very pleasing, very terrifying rubber mask. I swam at a couple of ladies while wearing it. Unsurprisingly, they swam away. 

Doing scaring

There was tea and there were buns and fruit. There was conversation between people I've seen time after time, but never together, and lots of new people too. Beautiful artist Jane (who I'm scaring in the picture) made a wonderful tree-bark hat. Full up with love and warmth and affection, despite so much cold water. 

Next, a dose of (Esther) Lilley Harvey and her beautiful Tulsichild. We drove, we walked, we had a go on dogs, we played, we talked, we read, we ate toast. It was short and very sweet indeed. Nourished again. And then...

A tasty little Ned-hit. Ned who I haven't seen since, what, late August? Ned who showed me the building site that is the house he's bought to renovate, explaining this trench and that brickwork, this structural wall, those beams. I even got to go on the scaffolding! I loved the whole experience. I'm just a little disappointed that I missed the 'constructive destruction' phase. You can't beat a swinging mattock, in my opinion (makes me think of you, Clubba Hollenbaugh - you gave me a birthday mattock all those years ago - only a true friend would know to do that!).

I am a creature equipped
with a mattock. + 1! 

Lunch at a Portuguese cafe delivered rich conversation and chips like you have never tasted in your life - fat, hot, crispy and floury soft on the inside. Thank God for Ned and his help - I'd have made myself ill with eating them if he hadn't taken a few off my hands. Oddly easy, the whole experience, and very pleasing indeed. All this wrapped up with a dose of dancing, coaching Geneva Kim. Mmmmmmm. A girl can't take much more goodness in one day. 

And oh, to Saturday. More cold, crisp water and upside-down ducks and shouting gulls and blipping fish. And then work in Rustique, where I bumped into an old yoga friend, first met in the Austrian mountains. I had a surprise date with Libby's lovely boyfriend, Doug, who turned up too to talk shelving. It's ending in bikes and dinner (all of us, not just me and him!). 

Bleeeeeeeeeeeeesed

And then... Ruth and Pam and Rob and Greg and Aristotle and me! A dinner party. I hate dinner parties, but we did one and I loved it. All those beloved people in one place doing that thing where everything becomes bigger than any of the relationships I have with any of them (and I find it delightful that I do have relationships with each one separately - they are all people I adore). Phew! Rich times. And today, just me and the pond, then J, Emily, Greg, Will Steele, hopefully Macarena before the day is out. 

I've had conversations recently with people who have the experience of spending time with friends (or acquaintances) they don't really click with. Fuck me, I'm lucky and blessed that the people I have in my life are really lovely. The only challenge is finding enough time to spend with all of them, and the fact that many are relatively far away. And still, if there was ever a second of doubt, ever ever, I am truly, richly blessed. 

MATTOCK! (I really do love a mattock)

Day 622: Irrelevant Butterflies

Look at these delicate beauties

The pond kissed me so nicely this morning, and gave me Wild Lily from a field in May... dancey yoga creature, carrying hula hoops (not the edible kind). And 5 minutes ago, this sweet story made me smile, as did the kind of uber-coolness of its teller. 

I find myself suddenly floored by the people in my life... there isn't enough time to make the most of them all. They are diverse, the people I love, on so many levels. I have so many different communities available to me, and I have such a lot of richness at my fingertips. I don't feel I have enough cells in my body to be thankful for all of them all of the time. 

Furry orange ridiculousness in moth form

I want to talk shit with William in Cyprus or play masks with William in Newcastle (or Simone in Italy, who's now in NZ, playing impro with other people I've met or touched (actually) or who've touched me (figuratively)). I want to hang out with Lilley and Daniel and their baby, or with J and her boys, or with Abdou or Jack or Barbara or all of them! PuddingJochenClubbaLauraFaceKimNerp
CircleFriendsHealersCheesecakeEaters
DancersClownsImprovisersYogisCoaches.
Aristotle. Beeeeeec! Steeeeeeeeeeeeeen!

Fiona, who will be in Guatemala. Annie, who has been and will be again. Sonia, who's there right now, doing good work. Danny, who's been all over the place today. It's not that all these people are in my life all of the time, or even enough of it, it's just that they're all so brilliant. 

Fluffbucket (walking moustache)

I got to speak to beautiful Cuphead today, and new lovely people coming in. I emailed people I met in all kinds of different contexts, in different countries, out of the blue or into it. On Thursday, I get to play with Maca, Ruth and Eddie all at once and on Saturday, another Ruth, a Rob, a Pam and a Greg... in between a LilleyTulsi(Daniel) and a Ned. Tuesday, Wednesday, a Rob and a load of strangers in a venue in Scotland. Tonight, just me in my bed.. should be sleeping. Will be any second now. 

Jaunty

And get this... if this was an iceberg, it wouldn't' even scratch a dinghy with only that much sticking out. There are so many more fantastic people already in my life, and so many more to come. I am blessed with so much love. That's good, isn't it!

Day 621: Blessed

How many times can I say that I am on-my-knees humbled by the beauty and peace of the pond? And how many times does it feel truer than ever before? Today - oh god - such a blessing. 

The phone rang just before I left the house and it was a little Lilleygift, a sweet snip with that girl who brings me so much richness. I loved talking to her. It wasn't as snip-snappy as planned, and all the better for it. As we talked, from my window I watched the sun make light of Alexandra Palace, picking it out and spotlighting it against a solid blue-grey sky. I watched clouds materialise, rain sheet itself over the building and the valley between here and there. I witnessed a double rainbow (DOUBLE!) and followed the shelf of falling rain until I was deep within it, from the windows being tainted with spits of rain to pummelled with torrents of it. 

And then it passed. The sun broke through (over the Palace first, of course). The wind kept ripping leaves off trees and making them dance, but the rain was nothing but a memory soaked into the asphalt. It couldn't get more autumn if it tried. And so to the pond.

We're tickling the back of October now. It should be cold. And yet, the sun was already warming the bench, still wet from the downpour, so I changed outside, naked in the sun and leaves, bare toes in the mud and on the grass. Standing on the steps, I watched a languorous back crawler make her way across the water, each lazy arm falling upwards and back down, luxuriating. Beautiful.

The water was very present. Not VERY cold, but cold enough to start to pinch the fingertips and toes, to palm the pads of my feet with the knowledge that too long in is not just silly, but dangerous. I love that this water can calm you and kill you. One of the first signs of hypothermia is a sense of euphoria - we know it well, us swimmers, but to taste it for too long is just not wise. 

A bit like this, only watchier and more indignant.

I would say smooth. The water itself was smooth and made of silk, but full of leaves, all gathered round the steps. Touched and scratched with crisped-up oak leaves, beech leaves, twigs, not just on the surface but through the water's depth. Despite the wind, there was a calm on the water's surface - undulating movement, not little frantic peaks, like some wind makes.

A single seagull on the ring, standing guard. More delicate than a seagull. Perhaps a tern? He/she watched us as we passed. I'd say indignation, if I had to personify the stance of this bird. Could have been its face, though... outraged bird. Incredulous winged creature.


As Jane the artist-lifeguard said, there just aren't words to sum up certain things, and the sense of privilege and bliss, of being ALLOWED to be part of this picture, body cold, heart joined with water, nature, light and (hippy warning) love. How is it that I get to do this? How is it that these simple, powerful pleasures are permitted to me?

There are, though. Look.

And if the water and the dive (deep, dark, leafy, cold) were not enough, the shower was so pleasing I failed to stop a little moan from coming out. So hot and determined, washing off the leaves, but not the pleasure of the pond. We marvelled, those of us there, at all of this, and wished each other well and then got dressed. 

This is just the start of my day. Truly, truly, I am blessed.

Day 620: A Puppy Solves Everything

Phooo! Three days away with Le Rebaldi adoré et la Barbara délicieuse. Can't complain. Was it really three days? It feels like that at least, because we rehearsed on Tuesday too. It's quite a thing. 

Big trip. Exciting times. Lovely people (them in particular). And a chance meeting on a train that is giving me gentle pleasure. 

And my bus ride this morning was brilliant. I decided to get the W5 for the kind of distance I really could have walked simply because I wanted to. I was in a rush and I had luggage.  And ANYWAY. 

A list of little pleasures about this bus.
1. It had closed its door and the driver stopped, opened the doors and let me on. 
2. Then he waved me in without paying, because his machine wasn't working. 
3. A man (probably no more than five years older than me) moved out of his seat to let me sit there with my suitcase, so I wouldn't have to squeeze it in. He looked like it was his pleasure to do that, so mine was to accept and say thank you. 
4. Then his similarly-aged wife, who was across the aisle, said that the driver had stopped the bus for me because I had a lovely smile. I mention the age, because often it's older people who take the time to say such things, but unless they all had wrinkly pictures upstairs, these people were younger.
5. She then went into a long anecdote about how lovely their last bus ride had been, telling me about the conductor lady and all the stories she'd told about her home roots in the Caribbean, and how lovely she was.
6. We all got off at the same stop. The man courteously let me off in front of him. Some of us said goodbye as we went our separate ways.

This kind of thing is all it takes for my day to be thoroughly made. 

And THEN I had a big, fat, long chat with Kim. I've missed her. She is rich like chocolate mousse, but better for you. 

I missed out on a chat with Cuphead and a puppy, but I have everything crossed that this will still be able to happen this weekend. 
Please?

Day 619: Internal Backlash Pie

Message from my fear-mind #1

Oh, fantastic! (Actually fantastic - not in a sarcastic way). I just had a big, fat anxiety dream about the TEDx talk thing. Very funny (though terrible a the time, I woke up crying about it!). I was in a big class of people - I was their peer, but they were mostly in their late teens. We had to show a tiny action on the yoga mat, and I did it 'wrong' - and had to do it again. Everyone was irritated. Then after announcing what came next (which was a set of practical tasks - chores etc) the teacher said to me that maybe it'd be better if I did something on my own, given that everyone was so upset with me. That moment - the one where you think you're okay and you find out that people think you're a dick. The anticipation of that feeling has stopped me doing so many things! And there it was.

Message from my fear-mind #2

I pushed him to deal with it in the class and handle it openly, rather than just let it sit, and I genuinely still didn't understand what I'd done in my badly-done movement on the mat that had made people cross. So clumsily, it was brought up, and people started saying - with laughs of disdain, disgusted faces and lots of irritation - that it was because of the TEDx talk. They went on to name all the things that have been spinning around in MY head about what was/might be wrong with it (which, fuck you, unconscious fear and shame mechanisms, I'm not going to name here). And they still didn't want me in their group. And most of them still thought I was a dick. Even the ones that were humane about it were making it clear that they'd be nice to me, but I was still a total nob who'd embarrassed myself. 

"Does that make me Craaayyyzaaayyyy?"

And the dream also involved climbing up a slope under a net with a flapping jackdaw who was singing 'Crazy' just like Gnarls Barkley, and kept apologising that he couldn't stop it coming out. I was both aware that this was weird and a bit beaky/flappy, and that it was very cool to be so close to such a beautiful bird (and to be having a conversation with it, which didn't even show up as odd.) How lucky am I?, I thought. We may have been excluded, but we were excluded together, and man, that bird can sing!  LOVED that part!

I love the unconscious mind. I love how my fear decides not to leave me, even after the event is over. It makes me massively keen to do more things that scare the shit out of myself. 
It's worth it.