Category Archives: Heart

Feverish thoughts…

Last night I decided to have a hot bath. Me + wine + bath = perfect. Really I was meant to have a girls night out, but alas I really had a severe headache and a friend of mine was under the weather too, so that got moved to today.

I wanted to cure my headache, so I poured a bath.

Now, I kind of think a lot of illness is caused, or affected by, thoughts. I grew up with a lot of asthma and I know what it’s like to be sick a lot. I always say I don’t need to take drugs because I’ve had enough fever hallucinations to meet my subconscious.

When I contracted RSI in my hands was the first time I really came to understand the relationship between your thoughts and illness though. I’d known for a long time that emotions can trigger disease. Think about heart attacks, stomach ulcers, muscle knots, asthma attacks triggered by emotions and high blood pressure, for example. However, no matter how much I searched my mind I couldn’t figure out my RSI – I could see triggers for when it started, but I still didn’t cure it. Then I read Healing Back Pain: The Mind-Body Connection by Dr. John Sarno of New York University and a few days later I was typing again. The book not only said thoughts can trigger emotions; it showed how and once you know you can take control over it.

For the first time since I was three and contracted asthma, I felt in charge of my body. Before that I used to think my body was deceptive and would turn on me.

I’ve been on a mission this year to take responsibility for my life, open up emotionally and generally get back on the spiritual path. That’s kind of why I’m suddenly blubbering over on this blog and the Huff Post, because I have so much to process and when I process something I write. This determination to shift things has led to an amazing shift in my level of happiness and on a physical plane things are shifting too. That doesn’t mean it’s always comfortable though and I guess my head had sort of had it when combined with not being able to sleep properly due to my boy’s fear of ghost and nightly escapades. So last night I decided to have a bath to relax my muscles.

I love hot baths and even more so hot tubs. I get cold easily and it’s so nice to be warm. It makes me feel free. I also believe in detoxing through the skin and putting myself through discomfort to reach another level of strength though, so when I have hot baths I often push myself way beyond my comfort level (i.e. turn up the heat as much as I can take). I believe it’s good training; the same as pushing yourself to run when you feel like giving up. What’s more, I believe that it helps you face your thoughts in a similar manner to when you have a fever; you hang with the tension; with the discomfort in the body and face discomfortable thoughts which are lodged in the body.

So sometimes when I’m in a bath I basically practice hanging out with thoughts that unsettle me. I also tend to solve business issues and the likes in the bath, which I was doing too last night. All my unpleasant thoughts served up and dissected till I find my way to a path that works. Until I’m centered. Until I feel like I’m on the path I need to walk and hit a level of peace. Of groundedness. Of connection. Of passion for my life, or the part of my life I’m contemplating.

What I find interesting as well is that those things you’re supposed to do, like all the five million breathing exercises I learned in drama school in voice and yoga classes, happen naturally when I do this kind of purging of thoughts in a too hot bath. Because you fucking have to get rid of the energy somehow.

Likewise, I sometimes do stretching sessions, when I literally feel my body letting go of stress. I do these sessions intuitively and let my body stretch as it wants to stretch, which is also when you suddenly start doing the breathing exercises. I do dancing sessions too, where I feel I let go of things – led by my body. It’s a very connected process, yet it’s free.

I have no real clue what I’m trying to say with this blog – at this stage I think it sounds like I was a hot wet mess last night and that’s about it; I’m a lunatic with a love of water and a penchant for sexual metaphors and innuendo. But my real point I guess is that thoughts are lodged in the body and the body, likewise, affects the mind. When we purge our body, we purge our mind and when we purge our mind, we purge our body. I think the interaction between the two is important though – it’s important we pay attention to our mind when we do something with our body and vice versa.

When was the last time you really scrubbed down every inch of your body whilst thinking about how you really feel when doing it? When was the last time you stretched your entire body and looked at the thoughts that came up whilst doing it? When was the last time you danced and worked through your emotions with each step? And when was the last time you did something to push your body through its comfort zone, be it through exercise, a hot bath, or a sauna?

I did it last night and for me, well let’s just say it was an interesting experience. It was also an experience in loving and looking after myself.

I highly recommend reading Healing Back Pain: The Mind-Body Connection by Dr. John Sarno – it changed my life. 

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My little red dress and I…

I caught up with someone I haven’t seen for four years this week. One of the first things he said was: “Were you this skinny before as well?” It cracked me up. It’s hysterical – him and his brother always cut to the point straight away. No apologies if they have an opinion. And the way they hand out compliments… This guy, when I first met him, told me I had one of the best noses he’d ever seen. We got talking about that too this week and he also reminded me that my best friend has great nostrils (it’s all in the details). His brother, on the other hand, was once talking to me on Skype and was like: “Yeah, I miss you. I miss your face as you’re running up Runyon Canyon looking like you’re either gonna puke, or die, but you won’t stop running.” Compliments that people really mean are just the best. Especially when they say them dead seriously and have no idea that the compliments are of the slightly odd kind.

Speaking of running up the Canyon almost passing out in the process – I just got a Facebook comment from my former dance teacher in drama school. Another friend from drama school posted a plank challenge and my ex dance teacher was like “This makes me think of Maria. She holds the record at sixteen minutes. My abs are shaking just thinking of timing her.” I think the accurate number is more like nine minutes, but it reminded me that I’m a fighter, after all.

I love my friends. They are the best thing a woman can have around her. Last year was tough and I’m still recovering. Sometimes just hearing you’re great from someone can mean so much. Even in the nose department, but especially in the fighter and kind heart department. Yesterday I was talking to a friend about how there have been hard blows as of late and he was like “But you live this charmed life, hopping around three continents, adopting kids, launching a business…” I was like “But I have no money,” Him: “That’s just the point – you manage to do all these things with no money. Magical.”

In a way he’s right – I always managed to do the impossible, but last year even I felt the impossible to be impossible. Not because of my own life. I can manage (apart from the hands episode – that was incredibly painful, but I got out of it, right). But I have the twins now and I have so many friends in the township I want to help. To help them takes finances. The one thing I’ve never mastered. Maths. And last year I got tired. I got so fucking tired I wasn’t sure I’d cope. All I knew and know is that if I can get this business of mine off the ground and if it will make as much money as I think it will make, then everything will be sorted. But I ran out of steam. I ran to San Francisco, curled up in a ball and was scared that if anyone asked me as much as to hold a door for them I’d puke. There was nothing left of me to give. Last year was like standing in a house where everything was crashing and knowing I couldn’t do anything about it. I still tried. Saved a few things. But it was horrible.

I got a call from Africa when I was in San Fran though. Thanking me for drug relapse recoveries and cancer recoveries. Complimenting the twins for making progress. Liezl said when the family was doing their Christmas prayer everyone started with “I’d like to thank Maria for…” and the people who had recovered showed up to thank me as well. And it was nice. It was more than nice.

The main thing was that last year I felt like I was the hope of an organization and the hope of the twins and I felt like I failed. I failed myself too because I didn’t even have a home in the place I call home. Because of finances. I’m smart. Everyone and their dog always labeled me most likely to be successful. Getting all the As. Being the best director. Having the best business ideas. Being a marketing genius. And what have I achieved money wise? Fuck all. I haven’t even properly launched my business or made a movie yet.

Yesterday I was having a “I really do suck don’t I?” moment as I once again panicked thinking I can’t yet remove the twins from the school they are in (the teacher was apparently pulling their ears already, first week of term), as one attempt to a school failed as some legislation with who they take in or whatever and my boy hates school. And I freaked out.

Then I was out having dinner with some friends last night and suddenly one of them goes “Seriously, I don’t understand why you don’t have a boyfriend and you aren’t a model. I checked out your ass whilst you were walking to the bathroom. And boy!” It made me laugh so much. All you need is a great ass and life is wonderful.

I went home and unpacked my red little dress, as my friend had kept some of my things at his and I just got it back. My little red dress and stilettos. I think California has resurrected me; a better version of me. The fighter is back. It’s time to kick some ass. A woman in a red dress with a nice ass is unstoppable, after all. Don’t you think?

I can’t promise to save the world, but I can and will launch my business. And if that goes well, then I will save whatever part of the world I can save. Not least myself. I will be able to move home. I no longer need to burst into tears whenever someone says “Los Angeles” or “I was making a movie.”

Compliment people guys, it helps. Go on. Just do it. Do it. Just do it.

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A caramel sauce dipped fantasy…

There was a whisper in the air that night. A longing, mixed with the warm tinge of caramel sauce and the cool of a windy night by the oceanside. Together the flavors played in the night – the taste of burnt sugar, warm and comforting, mixed with the cool of the ocean and a lingering flavor of sea salt.

The warm scent of caramel sauce is the wish; the longing of something so sweet and wonderful. The cold is the fear; the opposite of the wish. You see, when you acknowledge you have a wish, you immediately acknowledge you don’t already have what you wish for. Yet, to get anything, you first have to wish for it – what else would propel you to move towards it? What else would make the adventurer step outside and start the adventure? But it is a scary thing for us humans to know we do not have what we wish to have, so sometimes we prefer to forget it. It means we will never have it, but it also means we never have to face our own longing full on. Never face the emptiness in the pit of the stomach.

So that’s why there is caramel sauce flying around in the air certain nights – it lures us with its perfect allure; with its familiar scent and taste. It smells like coming home. Home to the dreams in our hearts.

Most of us have felt it – the warmth of another person penetrating us to the core, the feeling of belonging, of being seen and understood. Like it all makes sense because you are sharing a moment in time with someone who sees and feels what you do. Who sees you. Not for who they think you are, but for who you truly are. Most of us have also felt the cold – the emptiness after such a person is gone. Or simply the emptiness because we never met such a person.

Likewise most of us have felt what it feel like to do something that penetrated us with passion to the core – that made us feel more alive than we ever felt before. It’s not a state of over excitement that will likely bring a downfall, but rather like a sense of freedom, of weightlessness as you finally are doing what you are supposed to do. There are no barriers within you. Nothing within you which does not wish to do what you are doing. You are free because your inner and your outer are one and the same.

Some of us have also felt the feeling of coming home to a place – of being one with our surroundings. Of knowing this is the place where we belong.

That’s the caramel sauce for you – the familiar scent of your heart’s desire. Of the wish to be with the people and places that are like you, doing the things you love the most.

So if you ever feel that the air is tanged with hot caramel sauce, with an undercurrent of ice cold winds from the ocean, then you know your dreams are stirring. And just as you know it may hurt a little bit to look at them you also know that the adventure is where the dreams live.

What is will be if you only dare to set it free.

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A dream dipped in caramel sauce…

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Filed under Cooking, dreams, Heart, Inspiration, Magical Realism, Motivation, Passion, poetry, Writing

When I watched my first striptease show I was seventeen…

So today I’m going to Vancouver – it’s been 15 years since last time. Anyone who’s known me for that long knows what it means to me to once again set foot in the city that broke my heart and gave me my future.

15 years ago I was a high school student in West Van High. I lived with a host mom who used to count the calories in my morning chocolate and was sure I had bulimia, as I ate too much for my size and it was disgraceful as it was “such a shame on the food.” Although admittedly I had no signs of bulimia so maybe I wasn’t ruining her food. I thought Vancouver was going to be my savior – far away from the pressure of home I was going to make wise career choices, I was going to be very far away from my step mom and my past of being bullied would no longer hurt me. Instead it was a disastrous trip, unlike any other trips I’d had abroad. Instead of making friends I was making myself miserable. One day after feeling lousy in the morning and missing 7am biology, I still went to a film festival in the afternoon. My host mom had a fit about it and I had a panic attack. I saw the room moving away from me, I was shaking, sweating and fell to a heap on the ground, certain I was dying. She left me there. On the ground. Opened the door for some fresh air and walked into the kitchen. That night, when I felt lonelier than I ever had, I swore to God that if I survived whatever had happened to me that evening I would open a nursery for street kids, which I was currently reading a book about. My childhood wasn’t great because the bullies and my step mom together had killed what confidence I once had, but I had always had my dad, my sister, my grandparents and other relatives. I always had a roof over my head. That night I contemplated what it would feel like not to.

In Vancouver I almost got kicked out of high school. In Vancouver I ended up with a depression it took me half a year to get out of. In Vancouver I watched my first striptease show. In Vancouver I made out with someone properly for the first time – he was American and I was stupid. In Vancouver I saw Isabel Allende talking in a church about Antonio Banderas swimming in rice pudding and life would never be the same. In Vancouver I took my first acting class. In Vancouver I decided to become a filmmaker. In Vancouver I decided to work with street kids. In Vancouver I swore to one day come back and write a story. In Vancouver I swore to one day come back to make peace.

I became a filmmaker. I did go to my Africa. The other week the twins’ mom came to the principal at Little Angels and told me I can have her kids. Even if I go to America. It’s a long journey still. I need to heal my RSI and get my career to work. But I will do it. Just as I always did. Did what I said I truly would. Not always on time. Not always as I thought it would happen. But I did it.

My career has been hectic. My entire life has been hectic. Now it’s time to make peace. And if there is any wound left to heal, today I will heal it.

Today I’m going back. I’m going back with my penal from Kenya whom I wrote the page letters to as a teenager and lost touch with whilst in Vancouver. We found each other on Facebook last year. She lives in Seattle and I came here to meet her. She tells me it’s thanks to me she’s in America. It’s thanks to me as I gave her the dream to leave Kenya for something more. Something better. Her husband says I’m family because I gave him his wife. She feels like my sister.

Today a new journey starts. Today I start the story I swore I’d one day live to tell. Today is a new day.

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The luscious dreams of the African wild…

The fog has gathered in the hills, covering the valley with her soft mist. The flowers stand out like dots of color in the cloud of white. I’m surrounded by the lush African landscape in a city that’s ever green. I cannot hear the lions roar, but I have experienced the roar of thunder and maybe more so than anything this year has been a year of thunder; of immense change. The kind where you hear the hooves of a stampede moving towards you at breakneck speed and you know in any minute your life will change. Forever. What once was is no more. Once all is gone, a new dawn emerges, covering the hills in her sweet embrace, casting a golden light to the smithereens around you and suddenly you can see beyond the walls that en-captured you. Can see the beauty that was hidden beyond them and inside of them, always darkened by the shadows.

This year walls have been torn down – eager little hands pulling me here and there to get to hug me, praise from clients, and praise from the owner of Little Angels has changed my life forever. When captured within the confines of an office in London, grey skies clouding my vision, all I saw was an admin disaster going nowhere. No dreams were being lived, no ego was being soothed. I faced myself as my worst enemy. Here, the sound of dogs saying good morning, kids voices shouting “I love yous” and living my dreams as a freelance writer and charity worker, turned part-time foster mommy changed everything. That dawn after the stampede did indeed showcase everything in a new light. A light where I was loved and lived my love for my work and my life.

This year, this dawn, was the time when I healed from childhood wounds and scars – when bullies, dead mothers, perfectionist fathers, and evil step-moms all became memories. As any memories they will be reawakened by a wind from time to time and softly blow by to stir up some pieces left by the stampede, but what was once a storm wind has turned into a touch as light as that of a caress. A sickening caress, but nonetheless as gentle as gentle can be. It took time and when I first arrived here these winds would still haunt me. Slowly the healing rays of love gave me strength. The strength only love can give.

As glamorous as it sounds to pack your bags for Africa and try to save her children, no move is ever easy. My car had some problems the mechanics had problems with and what could have taken a week to fix took close to three months with some car use in between where I could only drive within the village. Isolation drove me up the walls. A new career path and detours on it meant no cash to go out and socialize. No car. No money for cabs. If ever you faced a wind it is when you are alone within a space and no one else is there to make your illusions go away. Neatly trapped within the walls the wind stirs up the dust as it moves back and forth, no escape. Alone with your thoughts you cannot forget them. You face them, as any warrior does – forty days and forty nights in desert winds, hot, dry, filled with painful dust.

Disease the first year in Africa when you deal with kids is notorious. As a glamorous freelancer you have no sick days, no leave. When you are sick for months on end as the cold of winter and its icy winds cover you with dread there is no back up. There is no family to look after you. All you have now is Mother Africa and your own faith – faith that whatever money you have lost to days off you will regain; faith that you will heal. Fever hallucinations, nights of tears. You see your demons, your loneliness…the lions roar with an ugly face. Not least you face the face of your past; of growing up as a sickly child, knowing the emergency room almost as well as the painting on your own wall. Not trusting your own body, your own health; the despair of never knowing what’s next. What doctor, what waiting room, what hospital bed. Dead without drugs.

Fever hallucinations, memories of people disappearing, men lying, being cheated on, abandoned… Those haunting tales of years passed, of putting one’s heart in all the wrong hands. Hands that may not have meant harm, but that forgot to hold tight; and that heart made of delicate China was dropped to the ground.

Through all this there was always a dog to lick the tears away or a child to hug them better. There was an employer believing in me, or a principal set on the fact that I was going to save a crèche and build a youth program, an Eco-house, and a future for Hangberg. A future without drugs, prostitution and HIV. There were friends willing to drive when there was no car, doctors to heal me for the umpeteth time, and house mates to look after me. There was always someone ready with their love when mine ran out. And slowly that miraculous healing occurred. That healing where scars no longer mattered.

The mist continues to cling – cling to our windows, the leaves outside, the roof of the house…you see drops falling to the ground, caressing whatever comes in their way. Like a sign of magical fairytales attaching themselves to my last day in Africa this year. Next year a new story begins. There will be a new home, a new house, new flat mates, or no flat mates…two of my foster kids, the twins, will be in school, the other boy will be in another town. The men I dated this year are long gone, the new ones…who are they? Or who is he? Friends are moving cities next year. My business is going for capital. I may have to spend time in Los Angeles and if I have my way, or course I will, but it’s the love of the heart that matters…the love of the world, not just my way. Everything is changing. But there will still be love – the love of Mother Africa, the love we have for each other at Little Angels, the love of dreams unfolding and the love that is all-encompassing and there for anyone to feel, touch, get lost in…

There’s a magical mist in Cape Town. It’s not quite the same mist that used to sweep the hills of Hollywood, but it’s magical – more lush and thick – and if you look for long enough you will start to see your dreams emerging and taking shape amongst the clouds. The dreams shaped by your imagination and formed in your heart. And if you just say a prayer maybe, just maybe, Africa will make your dreams come true.

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The attitude of gratitude can kiss my ass…and that’s a great ass to kiss…

Ever heard someone you date say to you: “You have a nice ass, I should feel thankful for that”? I haven’t, but if I did I believe I might just dump them then and there. Why? Because if they “should” feel grateful they aren’t already feeling grateful, meaning they aren’t truly happy about, well, my ass. Gratitude comes naturally if you love something.

Now, I’m not saying that a condition for dating me is that you feel happy about my ass. I have dated many men whose asses weren’t great. The thing is: if I was in love with them, I was still thankful for their ass because it was their ass.

In London I used to wake up every morning in a state of panic as usually I had just awoken from a dream about my home in the Hollywood Hills and the sense of panic stemmed from the fact that I was not there. The life I woke up to looked very different from what used to awaken me with a smile. In Hollywood I jumped out of bed to make myself a smoothie or almond milk latte, watching the sunrise over the city. I felt bliss. I felt happiness. I felt excitement about life. I was so happy it was radiating from me, because my surroundings fueled me. I didn’t have my business, most of my friends, or a structured life there though, so I thought I should go back to London to obtain that.

In London I woke up to a gorgeous Victorian mansion in a bustling city and to a great job. I woke up in a house I didn’t love, in a city that filled me with dread and to a job that drained me as it used none of my greatness and all of my weaknesses. I used to think I should be thankful for my pretty house in the great city and my amazing job. I should. And sometimes I could pump up my adrenaline, make myself excited about selling another Hirst, or looking at the architecture of my house, or having a great coffee. I could get happy about a detail of beauty in a sea of gray.

I tried being thankful for my toothbrush, my food, my easy journey to work, my job, my house…I was scrutinizing London for beauty, I was trying to find inner peace…and all I felt was gray despair amongst a few sunbeams.

I cleaned up my room this weekend and added a few details. I finally got it just the way I wanted it, apart from a few paintings I still have to make. I put candles everywhere and last night I decided to light them all, snuggle up in bed and smell the fresh herbs I picked in my garden, whilst drinking the fresh mint tea, also courtesy of our garden. I felt at peace because I knew I was in paradise and my room was a representation of my heart. I had created my own love, my own heart.

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This morning I woke up to gorgeous African sunshine, blue skies and sunbeams playing with the wooden beams in my room. I was surrounded by nature in my natural home in the hills of Cape Town. I heard one of our gorgeous dogs knock on my door, frustrated that I wasn’t yet up to let him in. I was looking forward to seeing my foster kiddos, having breakfast, and talking to my best friend. I felt happy. I did not have to give thanks for my toothbrush – I naturally praised God for the miracle creation called my life. I was radiant.

I knew inside when I woke up today as well the areas of my life I’m not happy with. There are work assignments I do that I don’t enjoy. How my day looks like a color palette where some dots stand out as distasteful. I can argue that this work pays me and that it is better than any work I have ever had and I honestly feel thankful for that, but I still know the difference between that feeling and the feeling of looking out over the Hollywood Hills, surrendering to the feeling of living my dreams and feeling as if life is rising inside of me with the sun, playing in my heart, and making me long for the new day to dawn.

Likewise, I made a distinction this weekend when it comes to people – some people do great things for you, make you feel amazing as they are great in bed, or they shower you in love. They have a nice ass and treat you like the Queen of the world. Then there are those that may not have a perfect ass, or do all those things you’d dream a person would do for you, but you feel thankful just to be in their presence. Like with anyone you would have to create a great relationship with them to make your connection sustainable, you may have to kick their ass if they are being lazy, but you will never find yourself saying “I should feel thankful because they bought me flowers.” “I should be thankful because they are a nice person.” The reason you aren’t thankful is because you wish someone else would have bought you those flowers.

What I’m tying to say is that you will probably never be happy having bad relationships with anyone, but you won’t be happy having great relationships with people who won’t stir your soul either. You can enjoy them as a lover, as a friend, as a partner in crime for something, but if you are looking for a soul mate, their flowers will just never seem enough.

Life is an interesting journey and it will continue to throw us screwballs – nothing is ever a status quo of perfection, that’s the adventure, the path of life. If you are on the right path, the path excites you. You go out there every day to fight the dragons in search of your gold, your own heart as manifested in life. If the path doesn’t excite you, you change your path, or you give up and say your thanks to your toothbrush, to the people, situations and events you “should feel thankful for, because at least you are better off than the kids in Africa.” Or “at least you are squeezing a super model’s ass,” even if you feel no connection to their soul. It can be a nice ass squeezing experience, but if you want more, you have to search for more.

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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.

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

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