Day 615: Spirulina Sunrise

There have been a slew of wonderful things happening and being in my life. One thing I'm grateful for at the moment is the underlying foundation of positivity that's here. Is it that I don't question myself? Fuck no, it's not. Is it that I'm overjoyed and that everything in my life is perfect? Of course not, no. There are things I feel quite (ha "quite") stressed about and things that worry me, or that I feel sad about. Lots of them. And there's also a platform of okayness, which means that I catch myself smiling without meaning to; that I notice other people smiling at me because of that (or because I have toothpaste all over my face, but I haven't found any yet). I am deeply grateful for this. It has not always been the case. I've had the experience of my foundation being one of dread and heavy sadness, and I can vouch for it: that's a much harder space to live in. 

I'm not sure what takes credit. More water? That can't hurt (thanks, Steve, for that encouragement). Better food? I still consume a heap of shite from time to time, but my general intake includes lots of raw and good and fresh, so the balance is better and my health is good. I've also recently started munching on a cocktail of supplements - kick-ass iron submarines, not for the light-hearted (or light-stomached); calcium and magnesium, folic acid, spiruleeeeeeeeena (whatever that is for). Whatever the case, it's all good. 

And between now and the last time I wrote, there have been such rich and simple gifts. I have enjoyed crows calling and ducks doing energetic dipping and preening. There've been jumping fish and rippled light making patterns up leaning trunks. Cold dives. Women laughing about everything conceivable: their projections for the Scottish vote, art, biscuits, ovaries, jumping hurdles, campaigning, hummingbirds and kingfishers, toenail fungus paint. 

The dog's been excellent value, as has Greg. Evenings finding ways to make the dog work hard to find his rubber bone, or free it from wherever it's been thrown. The game of throwing the saliva-sodden rag toy onto me, for Aristotle to leap at and snap up. Outrageous comments, landed out of the blue, that make us howl. A dinner here and there, and endless bins. All things I'm grateful for. Them and fog, because it's beautiful and makes me think my waking is still dreaming.

Contact with friends, loved ones, colleagues and clients, my coach, my peers, and new ones. People I don't know yet and maybe never will, or maybe they'll become the ones talk about (and to) every day. I'm lucky and I'm blessed. 

Grateful for opportunities and challenges - jobs in and gone and back, work with wonderful people who make me smile, beautiful dancing and enforced laziness - Sue Rickards is the queen of down-to-earth compassion, joy and flow. 

And on a separate note, this REALLY made me laugh today. The article is '8 possible causes for delayed periods'. Number 8 is anxiety.


Anxiety Disorder
People who suffer from generalized anxiety disorder (GAD) worry uncontrollably about common occurrences and situations. Symptoms include difficulty concentrating or sleeping and sweating palms.


Personally, I can see another possible reason why this person might have missed a period or two. Anyone?

Day 614: Legend

Loving spending more time working with Rob Grundel again. He's a determined man, and an open person; he is an experimenter; he's a collaborator in the extreme. I feel blessed to get to play professionally with him, and now in a different context. 

Lovely coffeelabs meetup (madeupwords) at Google Campus. Thanks for the free coffee, coffeelabs people. What a sweet idea. It would happen without the free coffee, but not without the coffeelabs organisers (whose job is something entirely different) pairing people up in the community space so they can have a reason to get talking to someone. 

And this evening, good food, quiet an a quick look at this video by Elizabeth Gilbert (I wasn't able to get rid of the ads, but maybe you can). I love it... for so many years, I've heard people say 'follow your passion'. She points out how great that is if you have one, and advocates the juiciness of curiosity. What if you were curious every day (or grateful. And grateful)? What if the whole of your life was one big 'ooh, I wonder what will happen when I do this...". As Ruth and Rob both would say: "That's good, isn't it?"

Thank you to Fraser, the plumber I've never met, who has twice now done work for me for no money at all, once involving talking me through something on the phone and the second time, going to my flat, finding the tenants not there, calling me and them, waiting for them, fixing a leak and calling me back to let me know what he'd done. Whaaat? Thank you, Fraser, you utter legend. And thank you, nameless bright-eyed man who came to do my energy efficiency check, for recommending him. 

Day 613: Beside Myself

Oh, memory, you're such an equivocator (only just didn't say cunt). I am beside myself, in that I wrote this almost a week ago and basked in the pleasure of writing it... so then forgot that I never posted it. 

I love it when I close the last page of a novel and have to sit down for a proper good cry afterwards, especially if it’s the moved, love-fuelled kind of cry. The bleakly tragic kind of cry is powerful too, but the love one is more powerful.

Unseamly

I love the tension of a tragedy. As a teenager, Romeo and Juliet had me on the edge of my seat every time. When I watched the Baz Luhrmann film, much later, and saw the Post Haste van missing Romeo with its vital message, I was shouting at the screen (I saw it on DVD, not in the cinema. Had I been there, I may have been asked to leave). King Lear, Macbeth (oh, Macbeth – you just didn’t ought to have done that King-killing, sweetheart – you were a good, upstanding man before that, if a little brutal, with all your unseaming of people from the nave to the chops, but you did it in the context of the time and as a warrior. 

And then you went and killed the bloody King, and then MacDuff’s babes so unseemlily, and then even your marriage was on the rocks, and it was partly that dynamic that spurred you on – too late now; your days are numbered and I can only root for you because your writer’s such a genius, and he made me want the best for you, despite yourself).

I love to be fucked with by a book, a film, a show. Less so by people, but sometimes it happens. I like art to shake me, emotionally, like a rat in the mouth of that fictional terrier in my mind.

Anyway, We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves did indeed leave me completely beside myself, in the richest of ways. I liked it very much. Thank you, Karen Joy Fowler. What you wrote has made me more involved.

Day 612: Juicier than a Pineapple, Wiser than a Fig

Elephant god

Well will you look at that big fat harvest moon, ready for the reaping. What it's reaping, according to moonly friends of mine, [ooh, a dog just came in the cafe... love it love it love it - SO easily pleased] is emotional shite that you don't need any more. I'm in for a bit of that. Not that I'm carrying any particular story of emotional terribleness - just, you know, always good to have a purge. 

Moon

Once again (and if this is getting boring, just stop reading), I'm boomed in the brain by the incredible friends I have and the delicious, wonderful, fabulous people in my life. I was thinking about J yesterday, and this morning I stumbled upon a response to my out of office (which promised that I'd do anything asked of me) requesting that I chant 'I'm juicier than a pineapple, wiser than a fig" 20 times. This has been done, and I think I like it so much, I shall make it my mantra. In fact, I might even start a cult. Forget Jaya Ganesha, Gajananam and Arati, we're going to chant THIS!

Elephant god

Speaking of which, I sang Gajananam (sung to Ganesh) this morning at the start of my yoga practice. Thanks, Lilley, for inviting me to do the 108 day practice (anyone else want to join? Just hit me up on text and text me every day when you've done your 15-minute practice - you can do more; that's just the minimum). I notice that Victoria Sandison has infected me with a predilection for the semicolon (though I just had to check whether it took a hyphen, and autocorrect taught me that it's predilection, not predeliction - been saying that wrong for years). 

Moon

Language rocks, doesn't it? It's better than clothes. It's also different to clothes in many ways. If I had to choose between the two, though (unlikely, but it's good to be prepared), then it'd be language. Without language, how would I communicate that beige makes me look like I've died, and green's my favourite colour, and that I particularly like clothes that feel soft and caressy on my skin and ones that match my eyes and that trousers should never, ever, ever be too short, rather much too long, if it comes to it? Without clothes, I'd be cold, so I'd have to move to the jungle or some warm mountains. I can handle that. You can make clothes, anyway. You can make language too, but it takes aeons (not sure exactly what an aeon is, but we're talking generations of grunting and I just don't have the patience). 

I have work to do. Can you tell? I can. I'm grateful for this blog, and for wonderful FiSwe for waking me up to it again. Off to work. 

Day 611: Sharp and Clear

Memories of Andrew Gentilli planting a seed in my mind that is growing again now... that the words to be sung to the main theme music of Jurassic Park (a brilliant orchestral piece) are 'It's a dinosaur, it's a dinosaur!' over and over again. It's just played. Now it's in my head for the rest of the week. Thanks, Gent-bag. It's been too long. 

The joy of Emily visiting me in my flat was really quite something. Talking, laughing, eating, walking, drinking (decaf) coffee, admiring bread, enjoying clothes and stories.

The delight of watching sharp, clear sunlight picking out the Pentlands from my bedroom window this morning. The solid mass of the mattress beneath me. The space between me and the edges of my room (sounds like a small thing, is a huge thing). The calm quiet of it all. 

The satisfaction of sending off a proposal, all finished and with rounded corners, and the relief of its release... it's out there now. What's next?

The richness of a call with a coaching client, tickling my palette like an aperitif, making me hungry for more. It's such pleasing work, such a gift in every direction and I love it. Nobody else needs to. I love it and I want to do more. Coaching clients everywhere, come and find me - I'm ready for you.

The giddy headiness of a tiny dealine, the 3% remaining battery life in this mac. Haaaaa... bye!

Day 610: Flat

Yesterday (Thursday) night, I put my flat on gumtree, having found out that it was not a good time to sell. Then came the viewings. I thought I'd only had five or six replies, but a search for a totally different email led me to my Bulk Mail folder, where just LOADS of people had replied.

I booked seven sets of people to come and see the flat. I can honestly say that they were, without fail, lovely, interesting, wonderful. Honestly, all of them. Two of the couples (I'd prefer a couple) are definite yesses (what a great problem to have) and there's still one to see. 

This trip has been wonderful in that I am now very glad indeed not to be selling my flat. I've loved, loved, loved being up here. There are circumstances (in my head, at least) in which I would just move up here myself. It's been wonderful and I feel very grateful to have had this place to live in over the last week. It's just fantastic. And I'm not saying goodbye to it yet. I have some lovely people coming to live here, and then it will still be here. As I showed the flat, it became clearer and clearer to me how much I love it and why I bought the bloody thing in the first place - to live in, because it's lovely, with its tall ceilings, beautiful evening light, views and not-views, window seat (thanks, Jess and Danny) and stupid amounts of storage. 

By the end of the viewings, I was delirious, and had begun to discuss how many people each cupboard or small space could potentially have crammed into it, and how you might terrify someone by secreting yourself and jumping/falling out in the style of some Japanese or Korean horror film. Not sure if that sold it to the potential takers. I was past caring (in a good way). 

Thank you, Ruth, for so, so much, and for enjoying this place as much as I do, and for making the most of Edinburgh. Thanks, Universe, for delivering to me exactly what I'd asked for in the very first couple I met. 

Day 609: Ginger Dancing

Today involved a random dance with a small group of lovely strangers. I then took one of those lovely strangers home to feed her and meet Ruth. Then there was a three-way ginger-and-olive-oil footbath. Seriously. This shit happened. 

It was just like this pretty image, only in a square plastic crate, full of grated ginger, and with 6 feet in it. Just to add to it, before we broke him into bits and grated the fuck out of him, the ginger looked like a man. 

I love that my life can contain this. 

Day 608: Grrrrr

A dog beside itself with stranger-joy when I went into a shop on Nicholson Street. I enjoyed petting him, at first... Turns out he was lipsticking... oh, boy-dogs, you basic, basic creatures. 

This is what the warny biter looked like

I got 'bitten' by one on top of the mountain yesterday. Not proper bitten - warned. I came away shocked and wowed. That an animal acting that instinctively can be so delicate... he didn't bite down at all. He took my hand in his mouth, growled scarily and showed that he could, but he didn't hurt me. Interesting. I had to have the tiniest of cries, though. It lasted all of 30 seconds, and was due to the shock of an attack, and how stupid I felt for not picking up the signals and letting my need for a dog fix override some throaty grumbling that I really 'should' have noticed.

I'm grateful for a deep, tendon-stretchy massage. I had it today, from massive Mattie, Polish bodyworker with strong hands soft like babies and perfect teeth. He caused me pain, in a fairly gentle way. It felt beneficial. If I'm up here again, I'll go back. Grateful to be able to do that. Grateful to be taking the time. 

Day 607: A Mountain Before Breakfast

A mountain before breakfast - this is the way things happen here. Ruth and I made it up to the top more or less without anything untoward happening and came home to a faceful of muesli, which went down rather well and kept me going until about 4pm. 

A great meeting face to face with a lovely woman and a second, very useful, on the phone. 

Lovely family time with Ruth and Lawrence tonight. A little melancholy in me, but that's okay. It got blown about by the hilltop wind and buffeted by Glasgow, so I'm sure it's good. I'm grateful to be suddenly tired and able to go to sleep. Result!

5 mins from my flat. Wooohooooo!

Day 606: Grump-cheeks

*

I have some sad in me today, and some happy too, and DEFINITELY some grump and partly some warm.

The sun was kind today, and my thick socks were too thick, my boffing boots far too boffing for the warmth of the streets. 

*

Technologically, today has been tricky. Internet-free in the flat should be good, but there are a few things I really need to research. I carried my big computer out on a trip, but my big computer died. Oh, too dramatic, it went to sleep, or maybe into a coma, you might say. So I took it home and the familiar setting helped it remember its name and purpose - either that or waggling the wires.

*

I say 'home'. My flat in Scotland. I love it. I came up here to sell it and I find that, in a parallel universe, I'd move up here in the irritable flick of a badger's tail. It's tall-ceilinged and roomy, old and full of style, quirky and wooded. I feel at home (t)here. Whatever action, or lack of it, that entails, it's good to know. My life is in London right now, but here is this, this home, and there's another life in that. 

I'm touched and delighted by Fiona's excitement and glee at the TEDx thing. I'm unsure (of course) and nervous, but that's the same for everyone, I'd imagine, for their first... or for many, at least. And having her there and excited for me, and for herself, is already a glorious gift. 

*

I didn't remember to smell the flowers today. I did manage to resist a flick of my own angry tail - something that seemed like pretty disrespectful stuff to me, but probably no more than inconsiderate in the simplest form of the word, and no doubt worsened by my innate grump. But I didn't bite. Ha! Not yet. 

*

Ruth's here. Worlds colliding already - my life up here, which has been so private, in a way, and Ruth here, in my flat, in Scotland. Actually, we're at the pub around the corner. Modern living for the modern world. She's tapping away at an email on her iPad while I do this. It's nice to have her here. 

I'm grateful for the sad as well as the happy, the grump as well as the warm. It's all pie.

* All me.
Ha haaa... the simple act of finding all those pissed-off faces has blown away the grump-mist... FOR NOW.