The ultimate sex fantasy…

What is the ultimate sex fantasy? Is it a certain thing? Or is it just to completely relax, surrender and let your heart take you exactly where you want to go without any holding back? Is it ultimate freedom?

I took two of the kids I mentor on an outing yesterday – I took the two boys to the library, an organic shop that has a Thursday market and Llandadno beach. One of them did not want to listen to “do not push any buttons and sit properly in the car.” The rule is if you don’t listen, get a warning and still don’t listen, you don’t come with on the next outing. That’s why the little girl wasn’t with this time. After all of them behaving really nicely last week, she played with her seat belt on the way back. I’m trying to explain to them I don’t make weird rules just because, but the rules we have is for their own safety. I don’t like adults exercising power over kids just because, or without explanation. You hear that a lot when out and about “don’t touch this, don’t do that, don’t ask questions” and they don’t necessarily point out why (they might in all fairness have pointed that out beforehand) nor do they always have a reason why themselves. Point being, taking care of these kids I often question myself – am I a good mothers figure? Are the rules I’m setting up OK? Are my reactions when I’m out with them OK? Am I still just “taming” them rather than making them think for themselves? Just because I can’t pay to feed them a proper GAPS and raw food diet, is that bad of me? Surely a whole foods diet is better than crisps, but am I not putting in enough effort with it? Am I perfect enough?

You see I always imagined that when I have kids around that I look after I’m living this perfect life in a nice Eco house, with a large garden and herbal garden, I have a lovely husband, I have a very scheduled day and I have proper traditions in place for everything, from hot chocolate Sundays, to Christmas and I will know all those educational games and crafts things we will do together. Well guess what? I’m neither rich, nor married, but I do live in a natural home with a garden and I have planted five herbs in it (so there, I do have an herbal garden LOL). I don’t have it all together, but I’m trying to put another piece of the puzzle together every day. No, there’s not fresh Kombucha on the table yet, but I have the ingredients and the jar ready to go (and Kombucha clearly is essential for a household…well, you know at least my dream household because yummy mummies have all those things they want to have all ready to go, always, no?! LOL). No, I don’t know all the amazing recipes I wanna know, all the educational games and the crafts project. I most certainly am not married. Single appears to be the notorious case of my relationship status and funnily enough I care less about it now. I guess I feel rather fulfilled, because as a matter of fact every day it seems I do more. I do learn new recipes. I do learn about education. I do work as a writer with decent assignments, if yet there are mountains to climb. I do work with underprivileged kids and I do have some that I mentor and who could become my family, should I choose to walk that path and raise the money to do so. And somehow this has all calmed me down and made me feel fulfilled. On the other hand, I don’t yet have a proper social life in Cape Town, so it’s sort of made me wake up to that as well, because I need friends and support.

There are other things as well I have been contemplating – my ADD habits and how bad I am at certain things. I’m blessed in some areas, a mess in others. Thinking of mentoring the kids kind of makes you think about what kind of role model you are. Like when I sleep in now I’m like shit – had, I had kids I could not have done that. Does that mean I’m not ready for this? Does that make me “bad?” I’m terrible with paperwork and time keeping, so clearly I’m not a responsible adult. I can fill out a form three times and still miss things and I mess things up in my mind all the time, so I’m bad right? I was always told I was bad because of this, so clearly I’m not responsible enough. Never mind that I try doing something about my bad habits, the one day I miss doing a work out, or fail and don’t live in “perfection” I get angry with myself. And of course I’m not perfect, so I fail all the time with sticking to things and oh my God. I don’t have a pattern of wanting to punish myself at all or anything. OH MY GOD I have a pattern of wanting to punish myself, oh now I’m really seriously bad…oh my God. When I was younger I literally wanted to run into a wall when I fucked up, I really hated myself for it and wanted pain, not that I ever did that, but seriously I had those thoughts and now I’m dealing with kids, seriously, I’m really bad. See what I mean? That’s my brain for you. And since deciding to deal with the kids I seriously had to face this oh my God I’m feeling inadequate pattern.

I was reading the Mommypotamus blog the other day and looking at eco houses and that’s when I really came to see this pattern. I had a freak show about not having everything “all together,” or rather discovering what a freak show I have been having and starting to unraveling it and letting go of it. And it’s truly bizarre because I probably have it more together than most. Apart from my ADD patterns and wanting to punish myself and judging myself, I believe I’m quite good. Actually. It’s just my perfectionist and not good enough belief that’s screwing with my head. Truly that’s the reason why I’m single as well. When I meet someone I like I’m so petrified I’m not good enough and perfect enough that I start disliking myself and the idea of going into a relationship or fall in love only to once more prove to myself I’m not good enough, not perfect enough hasn’t been appealing. I lose track of myself when I start caring about people’s opinions. So having come to the point where I’m fairly OK with myself when I’m with myself and friends, I kind of guess I wanted to keep the status quo, especially as whenever I ventured into trying I failed. I did only manage to prove I wasn’t good enough once more.

I guess I’ve always had habits I’ve used as an excuse to feel bad about myself. Fact is, there are some things I’m no good at, like filling in paperwork – last year when working as a sales manager I was always in trouble – I always missed something. Especially when I had read through it three times and was really proud thinking I’d done a good job. People would get angry that I didn’t concentrate, but thought I had my full attention on the task – and proof read it three times. Not to mention my own panic. I felt like I couldn’t trust myself, because for example – I would put everything together on my desk, preparing to leave and structuring my things so as to remember everything. Then I would happily leave without the envelop I had placed on top of my desk so as NOT to forget to post it. Now certain of these things I learnt to manage, because they were habits. If you always put the keys in the same place you will remember them, but all of life is not a habit. In an office there’s new things all the time and you can’t habitualize them.

I worked in an office for over a year and that made me humble, because I had to face my shortcomings every day and after a while I had to somehow try to kick myself out of feeling bad about them, because some things I couldn’t change and I became better at a lot of the things I could change. It was still trying, because I couldn’t trust myself not to miss details. Then suddenly I was working as a freelance writer and people loved my writing. That’s not to say I haven’t missed deadlines and mixed things up. Still happens. Still makes me feel bad.  When I was forced, due to an article I was writing, reading up about ADD I had to humbly admit to the fact that I have pretty much every symptom of it and I don’t even believe in ADD, because most people they say can’t concentrate can concentrate. Maybe just not in the same ways.  I came to realize some of us have brains that work differently and some of that can’t and shouldn’t be changed, because our brain works that way because it’s great with something else. As humiliated as I felt reading about all those symptoms and ticking off the list, I also felt relieved, because the anger I have had to encounter with the years and all those “you’re just not responsible enough” kind of felt less hurtful.

I’m learning to structure my days. I’m learning to respect and love myself. I’m learning to value my talents. I’m learning that I can’t and don’t have to be great at everything. I do have to learn to discipline myself in certain areas, but at the same time I have to appreciate what my somewhat chaotic mind manages to come up with. I will also have to learn to respect and appreciate others and not, if I’m having PMS, have a complete tantrum if they say they are against Monsanto and manage to eat GMO corn at the same time, or try to convince me they care about the planet whilst smoking cigarettes and feeding their kids non-organic meat with weird preservatives, because my perfectionist hysteria tends to have two pet peeves – health and nature and if I’m in a bad mood I believe people are personally insulting me by poisoning themselves and the planet.

I realized there won’t be a one year vacation when I build my eco-home, learn to cook all the perfect foods (raw foods and whole foods), finally finish writing my book and come up with ideas and educational games that will entertain the kids till they’re eighteen, so that after that year everything would be ready and good to go. Or maybe I could do that if I left my volunteer work and my gorgeous home, said goodbye to entertainment and locked myself up in a tiny room somewhere – then I could work non-stop for a year and take a year sabbatical afterwards. That’s not gonna happen. Even if I did I would continue to learn and grow, so perfection would never be achievable anyway. Only idiots believe they’ve learnt all there is to know and they can’t go further. Perfection is an illusion. We are evolving every day if we are only humble enough to acknowledge the mistakes of the past and learn from the lessons. Admit that we aren’t perfect. And maybe more so than anything you have to teach kids to learn. To grow. To evolve.

So yes folks, I have perfectionist issues, I’m rather messy with certain things and it’s no good speaking to me about Monsanto if I have PMS – I may not have a loud tantrum as such, but my world will fall to pieces and if you smoke you will have me in tears as my mom died from cancer and how could anyone wish that upon themselves, or force their loved ones to watch them die? I have a few scars in that department. Not that I would necessarily show you that, but that’s how I’d feel. But having said all that I have some amazing talents, I left to set up my dream life in Cape Town, I have a career that I enjoy, I live in a dream home, I work with kids which was always my dream, I’m fairly healthy and I really do my best to understand kids and how to raise them. I do my best to live from my heart. So maybe I’m like OK you know. Maybe I even deserve having a boyfriend and kids. Maybe getting my work in magazines and on silver screens too. Could give it a go I suppose once I’ve managed to structure my days to fit it all in. Mmmm. Maybe there’s hope for me after all?! Maybe I don’t have to be great at everything to allow myself to enjoy my life? Maybe I can just sit back and love…and step up and follow my heart. Without judging. Just follow my heart. Absolutely free. Maybe…

I see the irony in this, because I have to learn routine and scheduling, but at the same time the judgments, the holding back instead of letting it flow…that’s the adventure. Being stuck inside your ever so criminal mind, that’s prison. Heart is freedom. Following your heart, trusting you can do it. Setting yourself free to do that. Then the routines and schedules ou truly need will fall into place and the ones you have to feel secure, or the routine of breaking them to feel bad, will disappear. Freedom is your heart.

Through making love, we experience love…

People are people through other people, so an Ubuntu saying goes. I find this an absolutely beautiful take on life and have many times blogged about how we experience ourselves through others. Through others we get to laugh, feel their touch on our skin, see our own beauty and marvel in friendship. In one way you could say that you learn through others who you are. Yet, who we are is not always experienced by others, or even ourselves.

It’s so easy to believe what others say about us, how they react to us and so on, but really, they are part of that reaction. If they are looking at us through their ego, rather than their heart, what they will see is rather different from what their heart would see. And if they are looking at our ego rather than our heart they will also form a very different opinion of us than if they were looking at our heart. Of course they can look at us with their heart, see our heart, but also acknowledg that we are acting out our ego.

We choose every day how we view ourselves – whether from the ego, or the heart. We also choose if we act out our ego, or our heart. When we look at others we choose to see their ego, or their heart and react to them with our ego, or our heart. Sometimes we look at people’s heart, but as they keep responding to life with their ego it can be frustrating watching them, even though of course how they live is up to them and truly, if you are only viewing them from the heart probably all you do is love and let go.

I have had a few ego reactions lately and I started laughing at myself this morning when I realized it doesn’t matter what other people do, or say, so long as I stay true to my heart, the right people will connect with me and form the right kind of relationships with me. For example, let’s use my favourite love and sex metaphors…say you are dating someone and sometimes they live their ego, sometimes their heart. One night this friend of theirs, whom you know likes them, keeps flirting with them. Now, you can either try to control the situation by getting your partner out-of-the-way, or start flirting with them yourself so that their ego recognizes the wonderful qualities of yours as you shake your butt very impressively on the dance floor. You could also walk away whimpering thinking whoever got your partner’s attention is superior to you and you are completely unloveable. Or you can just be a living expression of your heart, connecting with theirs if it is open and leaving it if it is not. If one of your hearts is not open the relationship, in a sense, is dead. There might still be a foundation for it, you might have had your hearts open at various points, but as it stands that’s it. You can keep a relationship together for a lifetime with your egos, but in my mind that’s still a dead relationship.

As I see it, if you live with an open heart and the person you are dating is living mainly from their ego, making ego choices, you won’t wish to be with them anyway. If on the other hand they live from the heart and they choose to flirt with someone else, then they are not for you, as their heart is not resonating with yours. Of course, some people choose to have their hearts open to everybody, not just socially but also sexually. That’s a choice each individual needs to make and be honest with their partner about.

Now that’s just a metaphor, but I believe it applies to many, many situations in life and in the relationships with all those around us work wise and socially as well. We often hold onto things that don’t ring true because of our ego and let go of others for the same reason. When the ego starts choosing our dates, our work and how we live our day-to-day life, even our family life, things start to jar, we feel fear and the need to control ourselves and others. Our self-confidence may very well drop, because we are going after things that don’t truly resonate with us and hence we create havoc along the way and get rejected, or live successfully but without fulfilment. And when you aren’t fulfilled you feel jealousy towards those who seem to be, sometimes wishing to be like them, whereas truly fulfilment comes from living your heart.

My wish to control situations slowly evaporated as I became aware that the only control I need to exercise is to constantly stay tuned with my heart. That’s something I have to remind myself of daily though.

It has long since been my belief that if I live my bare heart, the right people will connect to it and magic will happen. In other words: be a living expression of your heart and your life will become one too.

A lot of things happen below the surface, especially if your heart is not worn on the sleeve…

My naked shots – thoughts about my body…

Yep, we all know they ended up on Facebook a little while back and some are still there. The ones I approved. I will probably always remember when I saw the photos and started shaking. And that’s the moment when Miss Liberal and I Love My Body realized that Facebook is not the same as a pool party. I felt exposed.

Feeling exposed was weird, because I also felt that really I should just feel pride. Hey, it’s my body. It’s a temple you know and I do my best to honor it by pumping it full of delicious foods, as well as exercising and covering myself in potions and lotions. We don’t live in a society where walking around naked is normal though, but rather seen as a gift you give to those few privileged enough to know you well enough to know you without your knickers on. So the sense of exposure I guess is quite normal, as you don’t necessarily want say stalkers to check you out in the nude.

I was looking at myself in the mirror this morning as I was improvising to some music and I have a dancer’s body – I’m skin, muscle and bones. Just a tad of flesh on my behind. That’s about it.

Now everywhere I go I get to hear “Oh, you are so small.” “You look like a straight line.” And as it’s not taboo to mock skinny people I believe I’ve heard most of the unsuitable jokes there are about it. Then, of course on Facebook all you see is “Women should have curves” campaigns.

Most times I’m utterly proud over my body, which I look after and love, but that doesn’t mean I don’t find it offensive when all my friends post images of curvy women saying that’s the way a woman should be, because that means, in their minds, my body is not the way a woman’s body should be.

I’m lucky because I have been chased by enough men to know my body, or my personality, or the two combined, is attractive to them and by the end of the day it’s not about their opinion, but my own. However, what about the teenagers out there, what about the kids, who haven’t yet learnt to look to their own heart to find what’s truly right for them, what message are you sending to them by saying women should have curves? Get implants in your breasts, ass and hips? Similar, anorexia models are completely not cool either.

Curves are beautiful and I get jealous when I see these posts, because I know that I will never have them, unless potentially when I am pregnant, in which case I intend to wear the most unsuitable looking dresses I can lay my hands on…if you’ve got it, flaunt it and all that. But I also think my skinny legs and flat tummy are beautiful. I think my shiny personality and my smile are extraordinary.

When I do portraits, or I draw a body, as I see it my job is to bring out the beauty, to capture the personality…people aren’t moulds, but individuals and in that lies the beauty. In what makes you unique. And when you find that uniqueness inside of you, i.e. you find what makes your heart sing and follow that heart of yours, you will find what resonates with it. You will be a living expression of your heart, which is the most beautiful thing because you will feel one with yourself and your surroundings. I doubt, however, that the media will mention this in their take on feminine beauty.

In a society where being naked makes you feel exposed, maybe, just maybe it’s a good idea to say that your true natural beauty and your heart are divine gifts. To suggest that living in harmony with your heart will make you find your harmony with your body (and hence love it) and connect with those who love both your heart and body.

As artists we bring out the beauty of things. I suggest that instead of looking to others for opinions on beauty, we bring out our own. Being a woman is sacred, as is being a man. Cherish that.

The naughty devil and a big cock…

Ever been awakened by a cock? In LA my landlord decided to get some roosters and by lord they used to voice their opinions at 4am. And then there are other kinds of cocks that awaken you…

I woke up this morning with a start thinking “OMG I have trust issues.” Totally the wrong kind of cockadoodledoo. Immediately my brain went into thinking THAT’S WRONG! You aren’t supposed to wake up thinking that. So I went into super strategy mode, thinking about all the things I could do to control situations I may get into where my trust beliefs are triggered. I had a lovely party where I met Mrs Confused, Mr Logical, Miss I’m Stronger Than Anything And Fine No Matter Fucking What, Prof. You Will Never Work This Out, Lieutenant I Keep My Heart Closed For Protection, Chief Perfectionist and Dr I Will Sort My Thoughts Out. After this little party I was left thinking I needed wine to calm my aching head. Thank goodness they have plenty of vineyards in South Africa…

It wasn’t a pleasant wake-up call. For me trust issues is part of a larger complex of thoughts and feelings, grounded in the belief that I’m unloveable, or not good enough, so by the end of the day everyone will let me down and hence, can’t be trusted. I don’t literally walk around thinking that though, but if there are events that trigger these beliefs, I may feel a tad uneasy, or uncomfortable. It takes that I stop and slow down to realize WHY I am feeling that way.

If I don’t notice these thoughts and feelings being triggered I have two ways of dealing with it: I either go aloof to protect myself from what I believe to be causing pain (people not loving me), or I spring into perfectionist mode to prove why I am worthy to be loved.  Sometimes I don’t notice myself doing this either. I can be at a party acting out all my perfectionism and talking to a gazillion people (going aloof can simply mean distancing yourself by closing your heart), supposedly having a great time and only noticing a tiny sense of discomfort somewhere. I am not unhappy, or miserably, but a tiny warning bell is still sounding because I’m living my identity (reinforcing my beliefs by acting in ways that will prove them true – if you try to be perfect you will feel imperfect and by closing your heart, however little, you will feel separate and hence unloved by people), instead of my heart.

If I notice the warning bell I can stop, listen to my thoughts that are running as an undercurrent, dictating my choices, and choose to stop following the current. I can switch off the autopilot and choose to live in an open space of love. I don’t care if the thoughts tell me this is dangerous. Your most powerful state is a state of love. The devil inside your head (your ego/identity) will tell you differently, but as soon as you become aware of its voice you also realize you are aware of something else. And if you listen more carefully, you will hear that the voice of your heart is much more powerful, even if you have never used the strength of your heart, because your focus has been on your ego.

So ladies and gents, this simply means that you don’t win a man over by soothing his ego and speaking to his cock. It means you open your heart and find a man with an open heart who speaks with your heart. Then you don’t have to have trust issues, as hearts don’t lie, cheat, steal, or do anything else unsuitable. And still, they can be deliciously naughty…dirty love baby, the focus is on the loving dirt.

 

Showing skin…

I was once standing naked in a room, when a whole bunch of guys stormed in. Luckily I had read a lot of criminal novels, so I knew exactly what to do – run to the door they were entering from, press myself against the wall and sit down. I.e. be in the spot they were the least likely to look at. My stunt succeeded and they never saw me, as a bunch of angry (and dressed) girls chased them out of the room before they got a chance. I was ten to twelve years old and the idea of having a shower in the girls changing room never became the same.

When I was around eight or so I was at daycare one day, sitting with my friends drawing, or something in the hobby room. A boy walked in. A certain boy walked in. The boy every girl fancied. (Including my now best friend, but we didn’t know each other at that stage.) One of my friends burst out “Maria likes you.” He stopped in the doorway, turned to me and went: “Is that true?” The thought “It’s close to Christmas, you shouldn’t lie,” went through my mind. “Yes.” He looked at me a little longer, turned around and left the room.

When I was fifteen there was this guy who I had a lot of classes with. He was an arrogant bastard, but over summer he had turned…soft. He was really popular and had straight As in just about everything. So we used to compete on every test who could score the best. Or rather: he was competing with me and it infuriated me, so of course I started competing with him. He was rather nice sometimes. I remember him trying to explain to his best friend (who was in love with my step-sister for a while…that was a close call to getting an idiot in the house) why one shouldn’t bully people. His best friend did not understand his argument.

So having a competitive nature and all that, and probably thinking this dude was the only one with enough brain cells in a ten-mile radius, I fell in love with him. At first I didn’t really care that much, but then I told a friend of his who went to my class, to try to gauge if he liked anyone. Well, his friend obviously walked straight up to him and said I liked him, having sworn not to do so. And then a couple of interesting weeks of this guy staring at me and doing weird shit to talk to me ensued. So then a rumour started that he liked me. And one day I walked into a classroom when his friend asked him if this was the case, in front of the whole class and just as I walked in he went: “No one could ever fall in love with someone like her.” That was the day I died.

At sixteen I had left the village where I grew up, doing the International Baccalaureate program in another town, so I got rid of most people who considered me a geek and started a new life, where I was absolutely obsessed with covering up my past, especially my non-existing romantic history. Besides, most people at the IB were geeks as they had decided to choose the most difficult high school program that existed. We had to do tests to get accepted. That’s when I wrote about saving the kids in Africa. I did not see myself as the heroine of a romantic adventure, straight from my bookshelf, or anything like that.

Anyway, obsessed with the idea that no one should find out about my non-existing romantic history, I was still quite…me. I loved crazy ideas and stuff, so come Valentine’s I thought it a splendid idea to send a rose to a guy I thought was cute. And I didn’t even like him, he was just cute. But apparently people in Sweden are bit behind and thought this was the news of the century – a girl who joined us in the third year still got to hear this story. I think the poor bloke had never received roses in his life and I felt utterly humiliated.

Age seventeen and on the loose in Vancouver I was starting to feel like the biggest idiot in the world – who has never been with a guy age seventeen? Me. So I made out with some random American soldier who I found repulsive, and who proceeded to tell me about killing people during the war. I then ended up feeling even more ashamed because who is such a low life they decide to make out with a random loser just to make out with somebody?

My love life did perk up after this, but I had sworn on my mother’s grave, or something to that effect, that I would not have sex until I loved someone. And I had to wait until the night I turned twenty-one for this, at which time I had almost succumbed to the idea that no one would ever love me.

I then ended up in a very long relationship with someone, who, in the end decided, the last week, to cheat on me. Which is when I decided that if someone I used to trust with my life can cheat on me…then I’m properly fucked for life. I mean I knew he was cheating, because vivid scenarios played up in my head when he told me what he had been doing for a day – scenarios he was not talking about. I knew whom he had really been with and what he had been doing, but instead of thinking I was psychic, I thought I was going mad.

I felt really good after the break-up, realizing I had been in a relationship that was never quite right beyond the first few months, but I still had nightmares for about six months. And what left me the most scarred was the idea that I had allowed a relationship like that. How I could have accepted that into my life. Not like parts of it, but the end of it. And bless the man, he loved me and I can still happily say I love him, but we were young and we were both idiots in some aspects, including the fact that we stayed with each other for so long.

Fast forward two, or three years and I was just about to move to Los Angeles. Online I met this guy from LA that was just…amazing…and for the first time I felt like someone actually liked me . Truly liked me. A guy that actually turned me on in every way, as opposed to my ex, who never felt quite right. We would talk on the phone and on chat, for like eight hours straight. I let all my guards down. I was certain that was it – it was the first and actually still only time I had felt anything like that. He was simply so right in every way possible. And to his defense he really was looking for love, but I think he is the most emotionally retarded person and cheater I’ve ever met. And by lord I felt humiliated having believed in him. His bed though, was fucking amazing. There’s always a plus side…right? That bed and triple orgasms. Thank you God.

My self-confidence in the last, almost six years, since I was in a steady relationship, has soared. I have realized men chase me. A lot. I have realized I am beautiful and wonderful and amazing. I have more friends and love in my life than I have ever had. I feel so blessed finally setting off for my dream of Africa and working with film, theatre and people. And still, there is a tiny part of me that says I need high heels and an armour of steel to pretend I’m not vulnerable, I have no emotions and I most certainly am fine all by myself. And I need to be just a little bit more perfect.

When I feel hurt, or humiliated in public, just as I did as a kid, I want to shut everyone out and escape to Antarctica. Then I realize I can’t direct Leo Di Caprio in Antarctica and it all goes to hell…but, but…this whole vulnerable thing…I feel I have been doing a good job with it until yesterday. That’s when I wanted to pack my bags for Antartica. And that’s why I’m writing this now. Because it feels so, so cringy. And so real. And I want to be able to be that open. I want for others to have a space to be that real and open. And I really want to attract real and open people into my life.

The only way to attract and be with real and open people, is to be real and open. All this shit in my past means nothing. I still fear people will judge me for it, especially writing it on an open forum like this, but that’s why I want to do it. Because there are millions of people out there who have suffered much worse than me, who think because of their past they can’t be/have/do things. And it’s all utter poppycock, because all you have is this moment. And in this moment, I’m real and open. And the past? It’s gone. I’m a playful, open and honest person. I believe those nude shots proved it (if you missed the latest news, someone published some nude shots of me on Facebook yesterday as they misunderstood the term “only showing certain parts of my body” Well…there was a guitar covering my front… And that’s the day I discovered the difference of being naked in reality – no biggie – and online – biggie. I felt so vulnerable, knowing people could see me in a vulnerable state. “Miss Au Neutral I love being naked and celebrating the body” had a freak show.). Had this not been coupled by someone accusing me of having emotions, I’m sure it would have been fine, but rumour had it I had emotions. And this scenario of all those men went through my head as I saw the shots online. There is still an album on Facebook with a headline saying something like “I loved doing nude shots with Maria, such a natural and happy model, dream come true to capture the female body” and I still catch my breath, even if there are no real nudes in the album…and panic thinking I’m publicly humiliated…but I was just being vulnerable, real and open. Just as I would love.

Showing skin is cool. In every sense of the word.

Flash dancing…

Red for passion, pain and priumph…

Very first time sex, first time biking, first time skating…they pretty much all end up with…blood. First time swimming…you sank like a stone, didn’t you? I don’t know about you but I have found with the years that many first time things, such as first time dates, first days at work and first time sex don’t always give the right impression. First impressions last…well, I’m not so sure.

Do you think you have good judgement? I think I have excellent judgement. In my 30 years I have, maybe once, liked someone from day one that I then ended up falling for. Once. Oftentimes I’ve wanted to punch them in the face for no reason. Then again, maybe I was right, because nothing lasted…but then the one I fell for immediately didn’t either. What I am trying to say is that first impressions are often like an apple: it can look shiny on the outside, but be rotten on the inside. Your intuition may be able to tell you so, or some small, small sign of warning, but it’s unlikely you pick up on it if you are excited, hungry, busy, stressed, tired, over joyed, or any other anything that disrupts an empty mind. Similarly, an apple with bit of a brown patch on the skin, can be utterly scrumptiously delicious.

I guess what I’m trying to say is this: slow down. Empty your mind before you make decisions. And once you’ve made them, give it time. How long does it take to become an athlete? How long does it take to compose music like Mozart? How long did it take before you could bike, or swim? I remember learning to bike – I was black, blue and my knees were in a state of red mess, but it took me an evening and I was biking. In blissful joy. My bruises made me proud. Keeping it up, when I had fallen over so many times, made me proud. I took pride in putting in the effort to reach my desired result. Be smart – learn how to do things the easiest way (intuition and knowledge), but realize that to get up a hill…you gonna have to climb it…like you climb any good man, or woman.

I’m sure that you check your mobile apps, eat a sandwich and walk to work at the same time, whilst avoiding any traffic hazard you encounter…let’s face it: you are used to multi-tasking and living in what can only be called an ADD culture, but some things take time. And they deserve time. People set up companies, fall in love and enrol in difficult courses at uni thinking it will be a breeze. They hit one obstacle, or get one bad feeling and they are gone. It’s uncomfortable, so they leave. They don’t slow down, check what’s truly going on inside (i.e. what unconscious thoughts and feelings have gotten triggered – if you fail one thing and feel worthless, you may decide to stop at whatever you are doing to stop feeling worthless…but in reality you just failed a test, you aren’t worthless, that’s something you made up), empty their mind and let their intuition guide them. Nor do they realize that it may take a few attempts before the discomfort disappears and they are sailing full speed ahead.

Have you ever heard any of your friends (well, maybe men don’t talk like this, no clue, but women talk sex) say: “OMG I have been dating this guy for about three weeks now, I really like him, he totally turns me on in every way and then we had sex for the first time yesterday and it was appalling, so I can’t wait to do it again and again, until we become orgasmic sexperts!!! I’m so excited!” Or “We’ve been in a four year relationship, things are starting to slow down a bit, you know. Get a bit routine, boring. I’m soooo excited because this is just the wake up call I needed to add some spice both into my life AND the relationship.” Didn’t hear that? Me neither. Nor have I heard of many people going on a bad first date and being excited about giving it a second go. Especially not myself. I’m the one date queen. What’s more, I haven’t really heard of many people having first time sex, or going on a first date thinking they weren’t excited, anxious, or wanting to impress, but rather totally grounded and intuitive, living their greatness. In other words: they weren’t really in the best state of mind for making decisions…but they probably made one, or two (I’ll see you again/I’ll have sex with you again OR I won’t see you again/I won’t have sex with you again).

I’m sure we have all encountered situations where it’s pretty damn obvious that we will, under no circumstance date, or have sex with someone again, or whatever it is we did (some mistakes you truly only wanna make once and sometimes you do truly know with your heart you don’t want it again), all I’m saying is: slow down, take your time, explore and use your intuition to make your decisions. And remember that learning to swim takes time and learning to bike even gives you bruises. Just like that great sex you had the other day…  (Have you ever had that awkward moment when someone asked you what a very awkward positioned bruise was all about? Mmmm, awkwardly great, aren’t they?)

Red hot…

When the wind is blowing in the opposite direction…

Nothing’s ever perfect. I keep being reminded of the part in The Alchemist where the boy arrives in Africa and loses his money on the first night. He’s on a quest to get to Egypt and he has just lost all his savings, he can’t even return to Spain. He realizes he has a choice – he can either see it as a complete failure, or as the beginning of an even more daring adventure than he could ever have dreamed of. The boy chooses to see it as an adventure. He then proceeds to get a job polishing glass and he helps the shop owner by introducing serving tea to the customers. He spends years polishing glass. I’m sure it wasn’t easy, but we all have a choice: greet the sun with a smile in the morning, or proceed to look at the sun with envy as we ourselves hide in the shadows.

You can shift your mind about almost anything and you can choose to accept that your adventure is now. That doesn’t stop some things from being difficult to the point where you’re almost completely depleted. The point is, if you keep looking to the sun as part of you, sooner, rather than later, it will return.

Last fall was not a happy time for me. I had left what I felt were some of the most joyous, secure parts of my life – my two best friends, the city I loved and the first home I’d ever had that felt like a home – our gorgeous chalet in the Hollywood Hills. I no longer fell asleep watching the stars and the twinkling lights of Los Angeles. I no longer drove to Malibu in the weekends to jump through the waves. The sun that I so adored, seemed far, far away. There was one point when I was struggling at work (and given I work for my business partner, who is also the investor for my dream company, that was not easy), I had a rash from the cold and felt about as sexy as a burnt toast (I’m not made for winter, pointe blanc), I had found out some friends were potentially ill (and I don’t mean with the flu), I had absolutely no desire to date anyone, my social life was a mess as I was still new in town, my back was as my back is – aching and causing headaches, I felt drained, tired…I lost weight (not for lack of eating, but because my body was just drained), I looked like hell. I knew though, I knew that in LA I had been on top of my game, so there was a place inside where everything was well. It was just a matter of transforming that to the outside.

It took all my strength to turn things around, because let’s face it: when shit hits the fan it’s not like your energy levels are on top and you are ready to play the game of your life, but that’s exactly when you have to play the game of your life. That’s part of the adventure; the trials of the hero.

For me the most difficult part was probably worrying about a friend, but what completely drained me was work, because every day I’d make a new mistake, fret about my future and be completely exhausted by the end of it. It’s easy to say let go of your worries, but when nothing seems to be going your way and you feel like each day you get a new bucket of ice water thrown in your face and you’re not sure how to reach any of your goals, it doesn’t come across as all that easy. I was lucky. I had a fucking strong spiritual core that I kept returning to – a place of love – but whereas in LA that would take me five minutes to get to, here it could take me five hours and last for five seconds (great sex right there…).

Today when I look at my life I look at a smiling boss and business partner who has finally agreed the go-ahead of our company (I mean it was already incorporated, but that means very little without the dough) – once they find a replacement for me in his other company it’s go (well, part-time go…my salary from my company isn’t exactly erm, high). I look at my social life and I feel joy and peace. I look at working with a project that supports kids in London and South Africa and I feel like walking on clouds…a twelve year dream finally starting to materialize. I look at potential dates and I smile. I look at someone in the mirror who’s dancing and twirling forwards with dimples in her cheeks.

Today, you see at a woman who is living her dream, feeling sexier, sassier and happier than ever…but she was living her dream a couple of months ago too. It just wasn’t the pretty stuff…but it was the stuff that makes for a good story, a good adventure. And maybe it could have been different, maybe it could have been easier if I had been on a higher level of spirituality, or higher up the mountain, what have you, but we all start from somewhere and then we climb. I got furious at myself at times thinking I was making the same mistakes all over again, but clearly I hadn’t yet learnt how not to make them. You have to be nice to yourself.

What turns things around in life? In stories of great adventure it’s usually a dashing Prince, or Princess (or Jester, I stick by that one, LOL) isn’t it? Or it’s the ticket that flies in through the window and you realize that you are soon to be jetting off to Africa… Or it’s winning the lottery…or getting the dream job as if by magic.

In life I think the real turning point is love. It’s a place of love in your heart, where you allow for the magic to happen. It’s the desire to change things around, coming from that place and acting from that place. If you live in that space of free flow, of intuition and love…life does change bit, by bit, by bit. Sometimes over night, but often after many small steps of love. That doesn’t fool-proof you from storms, it just teaches you how to fly a bit better and a bit higher than before on a day-to-day basis.

So once again: love peeps. May it flow in abundance and may you have the strength to find it when life is rough and the dream of tomorrow seems far away. Even when you cry, may you love so that gates are opened for more love to enter, to heal you and move you to safe harbours.

You are always a heartbeat from anywhere: open your heart and be ready to fly when the right wind sweeps by…and it always will, you just have to have patience for it to come round and make the wind chimes chime…

The parody of life, the beauty and the…uhm…blowjobs…

I got this email today: “Dear Sir or Madam, Please take me off your emailing list with immediate effect. I am sick of you.” Is it just me or should the person make up their mind whether to be polite, or an asshole? Confusing. Someone else informed me via Facebook that happiness is always an inside job…and I who always thought it was a blowjob. Even more confusing. And that’s the thing with life: it can be confusing. So fucking confusing you’d need to get fucked just to forget your confusion for a while….but then there’s the confusing bit about love and finding the right men…I mean man…and uhm good sex…

I was messaging with a friend of mine today and her newborn baby was just awakening on her chest as she was writing to me. As I later sat on the bus this suddenly sprung to mind. Or to be precise: what sprung to mind was the feeling of how you watch over a new life filled with compassion because you know what it feels like to wake up, to fall asleep, to fall in love, to lose loved ones, to fail at something, to succeed, to laugh till your belly hurts, to cry till you think you have nothing left inside, to dance like the world is your oyster…if so only for the night. You know, so you feel. You feel for them as if they were you. Especially children as they are absolutely unprotected, or guarded from us by fear or thinking patterns. They are just there, looking with big eyes at a very fresh world.

Moments after this came to mind I gave up my seat to an older lady, simply because I know what tired feet feel like (and because my granddad would jump down from heaven to kick my butt if I didn’t behave with decency towards others).

We act with compassion towards each other; with understanding and sympathy simply because we know. We know what it feels like. Even if we are different and some of us feel pain in different places from others, or fall in love with different things, we all know. We all know pain and we all know love. We know laughter and tears….and making love, of course. We hold onto each other and support one another through life because we know what life feels like, so if that’s the only thing we know. Because we may know what life feels like, but life itself is often confusing.

The day I decided I could have kids because I knew enough about life, was the day I realized I know nothing and life is an experience, not an accomplishment. Yes, we are here to grow and learn…but we know so little. So long as we do our best, we love, we enjoy…we are successful. What life throws you at any given moment is impossible to know. To take a deep breath and lovingly and, erm, preferably with a good sense of humor, deal with any given circumstance is truly success. To apply your knowledge from the past yes, but also realize that what you know is always limited…unless for the heart, of course…I always believe that the heart and your soul’s connection with life somehow knows…but it knows without you knowing. You just open the door and you get the answer (sometimes in a rather weird way), but how, or why, or what…who knows?

Sometimes I try to figure it all out. I think about things. I think for so long I don’t act. That’s why my new motto is “maybe”. I will surrender to every moment and try things out. I will follow my heart….so if it goes in ten different directions. Because hell, I don’t understand myself…I have patterns, thoughts, behaviors that are down right ridiculous and if I think…I end up acting out the same story all over again. I’m the flakiest person you’d ever come across when it comes to the men I meet for example. I can hardly commit to a date – if I think about it, there’s always something wrong. That’s how bad I am. Once I love someone though, I’m loyal for life. My best friend told me the other week that if I she was a man, she’d just marry me, because no matter what, I’m there for the men I’ve once fallen for. As tragic as I think this is, hopefully one day one man can appreciate that….once he’s battled my five thousand dragons to get to my heart that is…that I’m of course now willingly giving away to the right man…erm. You see…if I think about this, I will not go near men. I just get confused and back off. Unless they knock me down, I’m gone. So I won’t think. I’ll just do. Surrender. Let go. Fly with whatever’s there.

So yes peeps…life’s confusing, but we are here to experience it and if that’s how you see it I, personally, think it becomes beautiful. Especially if you surrender to the moment, because then you have very little time to miss lovers lost, or erm ahem California, or your most precious gran or grandpa… We’re here to live. To be there for each other. To reach out to one another. To support each other through this most magical thing called life. May love be with you. Always.

Precisely: live the love…although apparently happiness is an inside job, so don’t think you can solve your man’s problem’s this way…LOL!

 

 

A dragon, or a fierce lover??? You choose…

Today I’m going to talk about dragons and fairy tales, but bear (I always write bare…it’s the nature of the blog…baring ones soul, or else I just talk about sex too much, but I prefer the first explanation…) with me as there is a point and I haven’t just lost my head to a Prince Charming…

So about dragons: Sometimes I think the fairy tales about women in towers guarded by dragons are simply women guarded by their own dragon, trained to keep evil at bay, but by now mistaking everything for evil. Hence, only the man who silences the dragon wins the heart. Sadly if this is the case, anyone with force can enter. A real woman controls her own dragon – opening the gates to the man who will respect her heart and whose heart she respects. Of course any man wanting to enter will have to fight the dragon though, if so just for a while to prove himself worthy of the heart. Men sometimes get confused and start fighting for any heart they can’t have, so you have to make sure he’s really fighting for you. In other words: give him a run for his money.

We all have dragons in our heart in one way or another – they sit there moaning about the bad, fearing the good in case it isn’t good enough and generally trying to protect us from everything by warning us about one hundred and one different things at the same time. They are the what ifs and the watch outs and the buts (I could have that hot butt, but…). They distract us from everything and stop us from enjoying what could have been, had we allowed it.

It’s so easy to think what if? When you aren’t involved in something you think what if that would have been the solution? When you are involved in something you think what if things go wrong? And when things go wrong, because they always do to some extent, you have to know you really want to be there and happily work to sort it out. This is where many people get lost – they move from one thing to another, because as soon as they hit a wall, they leave. Or they simply never get involved enough in the first place to stay – they never allow themselves to love and let go, so they never feel a deep attachment and the glorious happiness that comes when you love like a fool. And “like a fool” simply because you have given up every reservation and completely dedicated your heart…only it feels more like you opened it and magic happened.

A healthy, happy person knows that if something crashes and burns, they will rise from the ashes. They are willing though, after looking at something with an open heart listening to the wisdom of the heart, to invest their all should the investment be wise. They know that they have the go ahead from their heart, not from an over excited state of mind, so they are at peace investing themselves.

When wise people immerse themselves in something, they do so without losing their head and their footing in the world. They are not a teenager in love, but they love as fiercely as a teenager would, with the heart and soul of an adult. They know things can go wrong and they will come out OK should that be the case, but their focus, once invested, is on the good and how to continuously build that.

To let go and fully enjoy something; to learn to build the positive aspects of whatever it is, is a true gift and it means that you fully embrace what you have. You start enjoying it. You start putting in a positive effort to make it even better. You get excited when there is a problem, because there will be a thrill solving it. Things may still go wrong to the point where you know it’s time to quit and hell, it’s 2012 – the whole world might go under, but to know if it could work, you have to give your all.

Commitment sounds boring. I think it sounds terribly boring in fact. To me it sounds much better to say: I have a dream. If you have a dream to set up a company, to have great loving passionate relationship, to build a house, to do whatever it is you want to do…then you have to give your all for it to work. You decide that’s what it is you are going to do, then you leave the reservations somewhere else and give your heart and soul to the project at hand. It will grow exponentially because all of you and all your love is invested in it. If you say you’re gonna give it a go and stir it with your pinkie whilst thinking about everything that could go wrong and all the other things you could be doing, all the other wo/men you could be shagging…it won’t have a chance. You will never feel the joy of it overtaking your heart. Of it building until it becomes the most fabulous thing. Of it making you extraordinarily happy.

It’s really quite weird, because to go for anything is a sacrifice, because you leave everything else, at the same time, without making that sacrifice you will never achieve the greatness of love.

For anything in your life to happen, unless it’s something you are forced into, you have to allow it. In fact, even if you are forced into something, it will never make you happy, unless your heart and soul accepts it. Sometimes, a bit of a force though, shocks the system and you open the gates involuntarily, but you can’t hope that someone will steal your heart, or force you to build your dream. If you want something, you tame your own dragon and get ready to fight all the other people’s dragons you will meet along the way. There’s a thrill in fighting for your dream, you just have to decide it’s worth the fight and be open enough to know when it’s time to quit, should it not be the right fight you’re fighting.

Go on gladiators….attack!!!!!

I think I choose the fierce lover over the dragon…don’t you?

Naked…but there are still words, still scars that linger on my body…

I watched The Descendants the other night, you know it reminded me so much about my own family I burst out crying. Well, not at the movies, but when I got home. Mom died too. Not like that, but the hospital bed and the yellow face were pretty much the same. The pain, the confusion, the guilt, the desperation…it was all there. No, mom didn’t cheat on dad. They were together since she was sixteen. Eighteen years. And no, I wasn’t seventeen at the time, I was six, my sister one.

Love. After mom died, I somehow thought she didn’t love me. Mothers sit you down to tell you that, before they die, right? Or they write you a letter. They say something. They don’t just die and refuse hugging you the last time they see you, because they are in pain and high on morphine. They just don’t…that’s not what it’s like in the stories you hear. You think you are a burden on your family as they have to do all these extra things. As there is no mother and everyone else is trying to make up for it. Everyone’s stressed. You’re to blame, not to love.

Guilt. You laughed at her for peeing in her pants when she was sick as you panicked, then you laughed three days after she died and a friend pointed out they’d never laugh again if their mother died and then slowly, you started forgetting her and you felt like you were committing a crime for moving on, for wanting love from elsewhere. You felt guilt for not having felt close enough to her when she was alive. For being daddy’s little girl.

The sadness. The knowing of how cruel life can be. You aren’t really spiritually switched on age six, thinking everything is a circle, we are all connected and love is all there is. You just see everyone around you breaking down and talking about unfairness and cruelty. So you get scared of life. You have this sensation of a gaping hole inside, a place no one can ever fill. She’s gone. Never coming back. You look around you. You see the beauty. A lot of beauty, but you feel pain. You live in a glass cube. There’s life outside, but you’re just watching. You’re numb. You’re not, but somehow you are. You closed out love.

Being at loss. There is no mother. No woman looking after you. You are now different. Everyone looks at you differently. No one knows what to say when they find out. Everyone else talks of their mothers. Of having someone fussing over them and being overprotective. You don’t know what to say. Daddy doesn’t do that. You bring your grandparents to school events. You’re weird. You feel like part of you is lacking. Like you can never be like them.

The anger. You are angry that she left you, that she never said she loved you that you can remember, that your dad isn’t a mother too and that no one understands you because they don’t have a gaping hole inside. You argue with your dad for not being everything, for not knowing, for not understanding, for not getting what it’s like being you. You feel unloved and angry.

The loneliness. You were alone, in bed, when she was dying. You faced it alone, scared. Since then, you were alone. No one else is like you. You miss her. You miss a mother. You have that hole inside and nothing cures it. If you drink hot things you stop crying, but nothing cures the hole. It’s there. You feel otherworldly somehow. Like you aren’t connected to life. You become a spectator. When boys get close you run. You cry if they get too close. You want to trust someone. You want to feel whole again. You want to let someone inside, but you never do. You want someone else to break the vow for you. The vow that no one would take her place. You want someone to break into you.

The confusion. No one knows how to deal with it. Everyone makes it up as they go along. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

Then arrives the step-family and the bullies and you get even angrier and sadder and lonelier. You fear people. You think you stink. There’s something wrong with you. Then comes the depression, the sadness, the fear and the loneliness all over again.

When I watched that movie, I realized it’s OK. It’s OK that no one knew what to do. It’s OK that we all argued. It’s OK that I wasn’t raised perfectly. It’s OK that we made mistakes. It’s OK because we loved each other. There was always love. I might have gotten it all wrong as a child and taken it all out as a teenager, but there was always love. A lot of love. I can forgive, because I know. I can be forgiven, because I was at loss.

It’s OK that I broke down, not once, but twice in my life. It’s OK, because I got a lot of things wrong in my childhood. I felt a lot of pain, because I didn’t see the love.

It’s OK. It’s all OK.

It’s OK to be me. I faced some shit, I grew. I hit some walls, I learnt.

It’s OK not to have all the answers. God knows I’ve fought for them. Hard. I sought an answer, a solution, a way out of the pain and depression. I fought so hard, for perfection. For pretending to be whole. For pretending I had no scars. For pretending I wasn’t scared.

I never became perfect. I still feel the pain sometimes. A lot of it. It still makes me feel lonely, sad, depressed and ashamed. Yet, it’s nothing like what it used to be, because I did find love. Inside. The gaping hole isn’t so gaping anymore. The problem called Maria isn’t so problematic anymore. She doesn’t hate herself that much anymore. Love. It’s really that easy and hard, if you don’t get it. Love. Fill yourself with that. It’s the best medicine you’ll ever find.

If you are still in that broken-hearted mess where you understand nothing, least yourself…fuck the problems. Just love for a while and see what happens. It’s truly magical. And sometimes, sometimes the why’s and the when’s and the what have you’s…they don’t matter anymore.

If you watch that movie you will see that they aren’t perfect either. They haven’t got it all figured out. So long as you seek and you love though, that’s it. It shows how much you care. Seek for the best way of living and love unconditionally and forever. Between the two you are doing a damn good job.

I didn’t find this post easy to write. It’s the kinda shit you don’t say, because you know it’s not how things have to be. They could be all joy, but they weren’t. It’s part of me though. It’s who I was. It’s not easy, but that’s OK. There are days when I blog about all the joys of my life, but that’s not today, because my hope is that if anyone ever finds themselves where I was and sometimes still am, maybe this will help. You’re not alone. I hope you find love. You do deserve it, I promise.

If you lose someone, there will be pain, but if you remain open, there will be love. Always.