Category Archives: Spirituality

OMG it’s like totally a sign I need to buy new knickers…

I was just scrolling through my Facebook feed and saw a post saying “In God We Trust” and thought “…and then they vote for Trump,” which I found hilarious (my sense of humor is what it is…). Then I pressed the “New Posts” thingy in my feed and a friend of mine had just posted a photo of Forbes magazine saying “In Trump They Trust.”

So, what did that mean?

It means what I make it up to mean.

Have you ever thought about people and events, even places, as catalysts? I do. I have a hyper active mind. I see everything as a possibility to learn. I meet a guy, an emotion is sparked, I walk off and dissect it. I have a biz meeting, an idea nags me, I walk off and dissect it. I go somewhere, a thought is triggered, I walk off and dissect it. Everything sparks something. Some things are comfortable, others aren’t. I want to learn from them all so that each event leads to something better, because I’m somewhere better. That makes life exciting because it means everything takes me forward (apart from when I have a total mind-fuck that is…though that so never happens to me…like ever…erm).

However, it’s one thing seeing things as catalysts and learning from them, maybe thinking they have something to do with where you’re at on your journey, i.e. a “sign”  (because people tend to react to what we give out, meaning a lot of people in our life are a mirror to where we’re at and we only tend to open the door for people who resonate with us on some level or another – be it our wounds, or our heart), another to see them as divine guidance.

I mean what did the thing on Facebook mean? I messaged my friend to tell him about it. Maybe I needed to contact him? Maybe I am psychic? Maybe I needed to write this blog? Who knows. No one. But we can make the most of life by always believing things are signs for us to create something great. Like everything’s an opportunity to create magic. Because it is. Even that meeting that totally sucked and that date you totally fucked up.

Just moments before in my beloved Facebook feed I also saw a post that was a really weird animation (check it out at your own risk) that reminded me of how certain so-called conscious people speak to people who they wish to have a “romantic moment” with.

“Look the ocean is so powerful. And it’s so relaxing to watch it. You look tense. Come on, sit down and relax with me. You know you can relax with me, right? I appreciate you. And thank you for sitting here with me. It means a lot to me you trust me like that. (both people simultaneously look up at a bird which chirps) I just love our connection. We’re so in tune. I’m blessed to share this moment with you. Life’s perfect right now if we just let go of everything else, isn’t it? This is so relaxing. Let’s breathe together. Can you feel that? We’re like so energizing each other right now. Oh, look a dolphin! That’s a sign. We’re totally meant to share this moment. I’m so blessed to have you in my life. OMG. This is like so special. We’re totally having a moment right now.”

OK, so I’m exaggerating (kind of like Shit a New Age Girl Says which has had me laughing since 2012 or so). People sometimes throw around a lot of big empty words though and it sounds…wrong. The thing is, when people say some of these things and mean them, they really are special words. And if you see a dolphin together, you can make that a special moment. The more poetry and specialness you find together, the more likely you are to stick together (and if you’re two peas in a pod, it makes it a lot easier as you’ll find the same kind of moments special). However, the dolphin doesn’t mean you’re soulmates. You’re making that up. And the more you make that up together, the more right it’ll feel.

The issue comes when people are making things up that really don’t serve them. It really doesn’t help to make up someone is your soulmate because you saw a dolphin if the person doesn’t agree, or if you’re destroying each other’s lives.

We also generally tend to find what we’re looking for. My kids recently played “the mini game” with someone – finding mini-Coopers in the street. Now everywhere we go, they are seeing minis. Before they didn’t see a single one, because they weren’t looking for them.

What does me seeing that weird animated video mean? I am contemplating writing a script about conscious coupling and it totally added fuel to my fire (inspiration). It could be a sign. So could an article about dating conscious men that I found last week. Had I not been looking for fuel for my fire I might have missed both. They could, of course, also be divine signs I should make the movie. Or even better: that I’ll win an Oscar (it’s OK – I’ll soon find a proper sign for that. Sooner than you know it someone will say something related to the Oscars…) Who knows? I’ll choose to believe whatever makes for the juicier story…

Oh look – there’s lingerie hanging on my clothes line to dry – it’s totally a sign I need new lingerie. Totally. Divine intelligence at its best. New knickers it is! There are some dresses hanging there too – must be a sign I need new dresses as well. And bras. And a nightie!


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Filed under Humor, Spirituality, Thoughts, Uncategorized

The most beautiful story of all…

I don’t feel much like writing at all tonight. Unfortunately (fortunately that is) I follow my intuition as experience tells me that to doubt it is foolish. Hence, I’m writing.

Do you have a story that you come back to? A story that is your heart song? It’s not your life, it’s a metaphor for your life. It’s the life in you. This is my story. It’s called The Jester. You can read the other two chapters I’ve previously posted here. And here’s the next one…

The Jester…chapter unknown…

Rough winds were playing outside. She’d say they were cheeky winds. Playful with a bit of an edge – an edge strong enough to shake the house from time to time.

As usual remnants of her own life started to dance within her as the wind played. Old memories stirred, like leaves in the wind.

Today she was reminded of a man. He’d walked into her shop one day. He’d had a confident aura with a little bit of heartbreak shadowing its edges. Gray hair. Twinkling blue eyes. The lines in his face made him look weather worn in the right kind of way. He was the kind of man women would stop to look twice at, but he didn’t look back.

He was a wise man. He was a man who had seen and done what few ever would. He’d sinned in ways most would never imagine sinning and healed in ways most would never imagine healing. He was the kind of man who’d been through the sort of living hell that either make you die, or fight to reach a spiritual plane where life is no longer about pain.

Having the knowledge he had, he was also the kind of man who looked you in the eye and spoke the truth. Unfortunately the truth isn’t always pretty. Nor is it helpful if you don’t know what to do with it.

As a kid she’d been a bit like that man – she’d tell people the truth. Usually the truth she thought they most needed to hear; the truth about their wounds. As she grew older she learned that unless she offered a loving hand of help, the truth rarely set people free – instead it haunted them. They were as imprisoned by their fears and wounds as before she’d mentioned them. Just because someone else could see them and by seeing them make them tangible, it didn’t mean the person would do something about them. Instead the wounds started to bleed.

So she’d taken over her grandmother’s bakery and she now dished out the truth with a loving pat on the back and a suitable cake to go with it. People were charmed and charmed people are a lot more likely to go about making the changes you suggest they make.

In short, showing someone their wound without offering a way of healing it, is rather cruel unless the person is a healer in themselves. And even when you offer a way of healing a wound, it does the patient good to receive a dose of love too. After all, wounds are painful and love takes the edge of pain. And love, in one form or another, is usually the medicine needed to heal the wound.

The charismatic man who had stepped into her shop was prone to heal people with his wisdom, but he was no soothsayer. He did not wrap his truths up in nice little packages to diffuse the pain and he did not offer any love to go with his words. Instead he smirked and said the enlightened knew life is filled with pain and the only way to transcend it is to walk straight through it. Because that was his path, but it isn’t everyone’s path. Not everyone does well with bleeding wounds. In fact, quite a few of them faint and thereby render themselves useless.

The warmth of her shop had impressed him. He had liked what she’d done. How she camouflaged the truth in pretty little metaphors. He’d liked the cleverness of it all. He was wise enough to see that his way wasn’t everyone’s way. Of course he’d told her the truth though. He’d prodded and pushed till she bled.

At that stage she had thought she needed him. That she had needed his truth. She’d run after him like a lost puppy looking for advice. Her gran had just left the earthly realms. She was alone. She hadn’t found her feet yet. He wasn’t interested in friendship. He was a loner. And she wasn’t a chosen disciple.

The wind stirred up some sand that hit her windows as she stirred her tea. Sweet licorice and soft vanilla mingled with fruity notes of rooibos. Her tea gave her a level of comfort that man never could have. He only gave her a little piece of truth she was then left to battle herself. Ultimately those kind of pieces can set you free, but it’s often a long and harsh path. She knew because she’d taken it.

What struck her the most though as she remembered the man, was her need for friendship, for warmth, and his refusal to give it. For all his hearty laughs, heated spiritual discussions and twinkling blue eyes, he was always detached. Aloof. All he’d needed was his lover, his spirituality and his smoke. Everything else was earthly madness in his books. Yet, he was part of that madness because he was attached to the three things that diffused his pain. And he found it easier to say everyone had their path than taking responsibility for how he affected their path.

She wondered why she’d tried so hard to befriend him? Acceptance? Winning a true friend? She wasn’t sure, but she thought it had been to calm her own nerves. She wasn’t used to walking alone and believing her own truth. She wanted reassurance. He didn’t have the warmth of her gran, but he’d been wise and she’d wanted him to tell her that she was alright. That she could handle life on her own.

The wind did another little dance and she looked up and smiled at her dark window panes. She was certain that something fun filled and cheeky would happen soon. She could feel it in the air. Someone out there was stirring things up. She had the impression of two brothers playing, twirling around each other and laughing at the things they did as they flew by. Like scaring an old lady by pushing her door open and dancing through her living room. Or taking all the leaves old Monsieur Bardin had neatly raked into a heap and making them spin around him in a circle of unhindered delight. She liked this wind.

Her thoughts returned to the wise man. She’d sought confirmation from him; confirmation that she was wise. In the end she’d had to find that for herself though. It was funny and sad to see all the people looking for these kinds of things in the wrong places. Through the years she’d had women and men come into her shop crying over unrequited love. They’d been begging for crumbles from people who refused to give more. They could go elsewhere and be served cake, but for them crumbles were all they’d ever had. They didn’t expect more and held onto what little was given.

Others were merely confused by love. They felt attraction, on some level or other, and decided it was love.

Desire, she thought was a delirious thing. It would draw you to the mirror images of your soul and the best parts of you, but also the mirror images of your greatest wounds. Like the people searching for crumbles, because that’s what they were used to. Nursing those souls back to life was a particular pleasure of hers.

Other souls had been through too much pain. Like slaves they’d walk along with anyone who would ease it. Some chose the bottle, some chose pleasures of the flesh, others chose to devote themselves to a person, or to a spiritual path of no attachment.

To look beyond desire and at the same time enjoy the right kind of desire, so aptly provided by the world, was an art few mastered. She didn’t. Not yet. She looked beyond other people’s desires, but not her own. Not always. At least she provided the right kind of desire through her gifts; through her shop of delights. Healthy desire. Desire to stir the soul and enjoy the pleasures of the earth.

She thought about the man’s twinkling blue eyes. The gray streaks in his hair. How he’d laughed about life’s absurdities. And how those absurdities had caused the pain he’d so tried to overcome in his little spiritual bubble. Wise, yet foolish, but who was she to judge? He didn’t want friends, she wanted as many as possible. In the end one of his three desires had caused him pain – the desire for his lover. After that he’d left town and she’d never seen him again.

She sighed.

It was time to blow out her candle. The wind was still playing. She longed for bed and a night filled with dreams. In the morning she was fairly certain mischief would come knocking. With winds like these, it was bound to happen. And with that thought she blew out her candle, a smile playing on her lips.

By Yours Truly, a.k.a. Maria Montgomery. You can read the other two chapters I’ve previously posted here.


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Filed under Inspiration, Inspirational, poetry, Spirituality, Story, Storytelling, Uncategorized

Love and pigeons…

The Dance of Love

I want to tear the confines of my soul open

Dance across the shattered pieces of barb wired fences

Stand naked in the glory of the unknown

I want to sip the dew at dawn

Without consideration that this might be the last

Or the first

Of Everything

I want to sit surrounded by love

Knowing that the false pretense

Is all gone

I want to experience

Every nook and cranny of my soul

I want to dance

On the thorns of my past

And see myself melt into the nothingness

Which is Everything

I want to be free

Yet I scratch my back at the barb wired fence that I built round my soul

I tear at it

I scream in pain

And as blood rushes over me

I yell at others to make them open it

To set me free

I push them, hoping they’ll get so angry

They’ll tear me to pieces

So I can open

So I can be free

So I can love

I’m holding onto my fence

I tear at it

It hurts

I wonder why I can’t make it open?

Why it can’t go away?

Then I let go

I lick my bleeding hands

I take a step

Then another

I dance

I feel my body turned onto the steps

I awaken

I breathe

There’s freedom within my movement

There’s life in my steps

I love to dance

And love, love changes everything.


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Pigeon Thoughts 

The pigeon is looking at me

Impressions in ink

Thoughts sliding across the mountain

Like tiny dots of fluffy white

Waves crashing against the shore

Reminders of the wild

And the untamed

My Africa

Adventure pulls at my soul

My heartbeat quickens

A smile twinkles in the corner of my lips

I stand

I go to cook dinner

Maybe tomorrow.

We Are

We are all the ripple effects of each others’ consciousnesses

As we laugh

As we cry

As we reach for another cigarette

Or whatever our kind of poison

We touch a soul

Somewhere in the distant skies

So maybe

If I smile, just a little

I’ll tickle your soul

With a feather of delight.

old_9554Ralph Gibson; Leda

The Battle

Opportunities palpable

Breathing; whispering in the distance

Chances pulsating through the night

Giggles rising as your dreams chase them

You wake

Thoughts overpowering

Logic so illogical

Debates inside your mind

Pros and cons

Predicting the future with your head

Round and round

So many thoughts

So many roads to get there

So many things you could do to manipulate fate

Instead you slumber

You listen to your heart

It asks you to set it free

To let it roam

And trust that one day the thoughts will be silent

And your path revealed.

The Confines of Your Mind

I dance

Outside the confines of my mind

A choreography of lunacy

Illuminated by moonlit spells

Truth emerges

Until the confines no longer confine me.


I’ll be Rimbaud, you’ll be Verlaine

I’ll be Kahlo, you’ll be Trotsky

You’ll be Byron, I’ll be Lamb

You’ll be Shakespeare, I’ll have black wires on my head

You’ll be Da Vinci, we’ll be arrested for sodomy

The path of true love

Never did run smooth

And we’ll go down in history

Because lord what fools these mortals be.

Ludicrous Enlightenment

Between Jungian metaphors

And split consciousnesses

You’ll dance

I’ll play the fiddle

Dreams in waking hours

Sleep deprived nights of lucid moments

Echoes of truth

Amidst foolish thoughts

A wolf tooth for wild adventures

A dolphin’s call to play

Idiotic synchronicity

As the stars chase your name

And I knit the fabric of my soul.

By Yours Truly, a.k.a. Maria Montgomery 


Filed under dance, Dancing, Freedom, Love, poetry, Spirituality, Uncategorized

The see-through dress…

Inside we’re beautiful. We all have a heart. That heart is astounding.

Surrounding that heart are thoughts we’ve picked up about life, people and so forth. There’s fear. There are behavioral patterns. All stemming from these thoughts.

And I’ve blogged about this before. My wounds. My fears. Yet it seems to me with every year the wounds fade, yet they creep into places we don’t see. We act in ways that aren’t serving us as the wounds dictate our behavior without us even noticing. It’s small things once we’ve healed the bleeding, but it’s still there. Undercurrents that make us feel things. And we act on our feelings, not on the truth. Not from the heart.

Early on I picked up I wasn’t good enough – mom died without leaving me any special note of love. In fact she didn’t even tell me she loved me as far as I can remember. And she rejected me the last time she saw me. She was high on morphine, but I was six. I didn’t understand. She hugged my sister. My dad was angry when she complained of pain when I hugged her.

Then I moved classes two years later and ended up in class filled with bullies. I went from popular to nerd, over night.

Later arrived my new step-mom who treated me and my sister like Cinderella. Not necessarily intentionally, as she was blind as a bat to her own flaws, but it was pretty bad all the same and everyone else picked up on it.

So I started to have fear. Fear I wasn’t good enough. My dad always stressed the importance of performance, so I became good at performing. I was an A-student. I could dance. I could draw. I could write. I could do photography. I was good at presentations. I was good at leading projects. I was good at things, but I lost my sense of self. I literally felt like I had a hole inside. I didn’t know who I was. Or if there was a me? There were results though. If I was kind enough, acted well enough in social situations, did good enough at whatever it was I was doing, then I must be good, mustn’t I?

I responded to what was happening by withdrawing myself. I tried to protect myself by disappearing. When I was fourteen I was so scared of others I hardly spoke unless spoken to. But that was not the person I wanted to be. That was not like the heroines I read about. Not like an adventurer and lioness. I wasn’t allowing the fire I felt inside to burn freely. So I made a promise to change. I wanted to be who I truly was.

I really did push myself. I spoke when I didn’t want to. I spoke up against bullies. But I constantly judged myself. I was petrified. I was still just trying to gain acceptance, but in a new way.

I lived in the same prison, but the walls looked different. Trying to be perfect.

When I graduated drama school I asked myself what self-love was? It took another couple of years and a depression as I wasn’t doing good professionally (I had no idea how to actually launch my career – it’s kind of pointless loving and being good at things you don’t get to actually work with) till I realized it. The hot tub moment. Depressed in a hot tub in the Hollywood Hills asking God for help I had a realization that life is my gift and I can do whatever I want with it. I will never have all the answers in one go. I will keep learning. I don’t have to achieve anything. I can just be. This life is my life.

Things shifted after that. My inner monologue of judgment – assessing what people thought of me – started to somewhat fade. And I learnt more, grew more. With my move to Africa I learnt love at a whole new level at Little Angels where I was appreciated and loved and where my focus shifted to kids instead of myself all the time. My ego healed more. My gray days dissipated. Here I faced a war. It was traumatic. But my ego healed more and more. I feel so much freer now. So much more like me. Real. Alive. Here. Present.

Yet, having a conversation with Liezl yesterday about fear – those undercurrents we don’t necessarily see – I told her I still do things on auto-pilot. I sometimes avoid certain social gatherings because I have fear. I don’t necessarily see it. I just don’t feel like doing something. And whilst I love a dinner party with interesting guests, dancing all night long, or any crowd where you’re guaranteed great conversation, or great laughs (I like to play), talking about nothing all night bores me and I’m terrible at it. I guess that’s when my childhood wounds get scratched. I feel like I can’t be entertaining enough, even if I’m bored myself. Socially inadequate. Like that shy kid in the corner. The one who thought she was worthless. Unloveable. Couldn’t understand what she’d done wrong for the world to dislike her. She’s still there somewhere you know. She was me and I am her.

Sometimes I fear dealing with business people who know more than me. Instead of praising my own creativity that I bring to the table I panic about not knowing the numbers. And so I stop. I lose inspiration.

I know I have fear around falling in love. Dating is fine. I can do it in my sleep. I learnt that. To me dating and flirting is an art, just as communication and lovemaking are an art. If you say please and thank you, people respond to you better. Same with flirting – some things work, some don’t. I started off in the wrong end as a shy geek, and it forced me to learn about it. I’m thankful for that. I learnt the value of great communication because I didn’t know it.

Letting someone close is another cup of tea. And when I meet men that you know, have that thing, it scares the bejeezus out of me. When I started out dating I went out with the crazy gorgeous kind of men I adore, who walked all over me. And they always lacked…something. Well, most of them. Then I started dating men I didn’t adore, the lukewarm kind, who didn’t walk all over me. I guess I tried finding “the nice one.” I like them, but there were no sparkles. Now I’d like to build trust with someone who actually makes me see stars. You know the perfect playful adventurous naked soul connection which I desire, where there’s also trust. I like crazy. I will always like the off the beaten path intellectually stimulating outrageously playful creative souls, so I might as well embrace it. In the right way. Under the covers…or on top of them…or somewhere else entirely…

In the past I’ve feared gossips. They can be really mean and for no reason as the people who gossip about you generally don’t know you. They see 1-5% of you, or a situation, make up their own version to suit their reality and off they go to bring you down as you are a perceived threat. You rattled them somehow and off they go black mouthing you. So that they can feel better. Why else spend time talking about someone negatively? This used to make me want to hide. To stop rumors. To please people. To show them how kind I truly am. (Even a straight forward confrontation, or misunderstanding between friends used to make me want to do anything to prove myself.) But then I came to the conclusion at one point that some people don’t want to get to know you. They want their version of events. So let them think what they want and set about giving of your heart as best as you can anyway to the world.

And watch out so you don’t end up in the prison of attitudes when people rattle you. Of pretending to be cool. Smart. Sexy. Haughty. Right. Angry. Don’t run away with your emotions and justify your attitude. Be. Feel it. Then act from the heart. You don’t need to prove something; neither to the people you love, nor to the people who dislike you. You just want to be. As you are. Right there in the moment. Heart open. Feeling. Feeling your own vulnerability and beyond it your strength. Naked. In the light. That’s how wounds heal. Because they have no power over us anymore.

Only when you can be naked can you truly wear any dress and own it.


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Filed under adventures in life, ego, Healing Wounds, Love, People, personal growth, Psychology, Spirituality, Uncategorized

The naked gypsy…

It’s a new year. It’s time to get raw. Honest. Naked. Very naked.

I’m writing travel articles for a client and having random flashbacks. You know that one time nine years ago at a bus station in Gran Canaria. Or that other time having McDonalds in the harbor in Malta when I was sixteen. Visiting the Catedral de Mallorca. Some old town built into the rocks in Rhodes, which always stuck out in my memory as I loved the town. I like it natural. And then there was that time skinny dipping in Scotland, which my best friend will never let me forget. Mainly because every time I date a guy she likes, she start telling stories that are supposed to make him like me better. And for some reason she’s gotten stuck on showing men I can dance and skinny dipping in Scotland. Had it not been for all the biting midges it would have been a lot better than that one time in Hawaii…

I haven’t had the best start to the New Year, on the other hand it’s been a great start. There are some things I’m truly excited about. I’m excited about launching Magique this year – I’m currently sourcing the various components of the products here in Cape Town and it makes me smile. Soon I’ll hold our first products in my hand. Ethical. Pesticide free. Eco-friendly. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time. A very long time. Will they fly? Who knows. At least I’ll get to try it, be it in my backyard, or at Macy’s. It’s an idea that will never leave me as it’s the make-up of who I am. Whether I do it grand scale or for a select few isn’t as important to me as it is to make it. It would help if I was paid for it though – it’s been a long hard journey with a learning curve the size of Kilimanjaro getting to where I am today.

I’m thrilled about us building at Little Angels (the first phase of building that is – need a lot of investment to do it all) and have read up a lot about sustainable architecture, which is a topic which excites me a lot. I always dreamt of building a city which actually serves its function (some da Vinci quote turned me on to this when I was in my teens – he refused to work on the design for a city, or he started and quit, as they wanted to do something that meant trying to make it bigger than it had capacity for at the time. For some reason that always stuck with me. As did an obsession with da Vinci – the first proper portrait I ever drew was of him when I was like twelve). And just imagine – electricity in winter. A proper roof. No raining in. Actually being able to have classes in the evenings. No more Liezl with pneumonia. A center that serves its purpose. It’s kind of epic.

I finished one feature film script and am halfway through another. Now that makes me excited too. You have no idea. I’ve got a seven scripts in one month goal. When I write, I write. It’s just I haven’t done much writing for myself in the past few years. When I do I feel like I’m flying. Like I’m alive. Like I’m doing what I’m meant to be doing – telling stories. I have a similar feel working on the Magique brand – it’s the stories come alive. The movie and fairy tale magic in real life.

On the other hand the twins’ family have their moments – from murderers to drug addicts. And one of their moments included giving the kids away to other relatives without consulting me, or even letting said relatives know I exist. I heard it through the grapevine through someone who thought this was not the way to go about things. I had a tentative talk to their guardian about it today, so we will see how things go. Miss T has been away the entire holiday and I’ve had Mr T for the most part. I had a smaller meltdown having to hand him back on New Year’s Day for two days and he looked miserable. I picked him up today and the idea of never picking them up again… I start crying if I think about it, so I don’t. I just move forward.

I found a new place to live just before the holidays, the first place I’ve enjoyed in years, only to find out that the landlords changed their minds and want to go back to AirBnB living. There was also an issue with the wifi, so I had to go into their house to use it, as it couldn’t be fixed over the holidays. As a result they felt I imposed on them, even if I’d made it very clear day one that I work from home and wifi has to work and they told me to sit in a room they said they rarely use. All in all I ended up feeling like I did in my teens when I had a step-mom who didn’t exactly like me – like my home is not my home. I’m a burden. Unwanted. Touched a bit of a wound. Amazing how you can carry them with you for so long. And I’m a bit tired. The idea of packing once again, disrupting work, spending money…it isn’t very appealing.

When this all happened part of me was like – fine. I’m a gypsy. Anything I do that holds me to one place goes tits up. Any time I try to settle, the things I hold dear seem to disappear. So let me travel then. I miss Paris and want to go back to Morocco and explore Latin America and certain parts of Asia (spiritual trip). Only, I want the kids with me at least for some of it. I want to make movies and I want the kids on the set of those movies. I want to direct the youth at Little Angels. And I will never leave Magique alone. It is part of who I am.

Travel alone feels pointless. It’s not a separate part of my life – it should tie into the rest of my life, or it loses its meaning. Travel for Magique. Travel to make movies. Travel for projects. That rings true. And sometimes, maybe, you know, vacation…sexcation, lovecation, spiritualcation…somethingcation.

On Christmas Eve a woman tried to give Liezl a baby for me to raise. Quite the Christmas present. It was always my dream to do that. To be that person that would happen to. Little Angels has brought me more joy than pretty much anything else I’ve done. There were times I felt inadequate, stressed and miserable, but in the end it’s still the one thing that makes me smile. On Christmas Eve I had a sleepover for three kids who got to wake up on Christmas Day to presents. That was my dream come true. Those kids mean the world to me. And one of them, on Christmas Eve when I was skyping my family grabbed my Mac and was like “Can I tell you what Maria does for us, can I?” He was literally jumping up and down from excitement explaining to my family I help them with reading, I take them out and I’m like a mother of sorts to them and his sister very decidedly chimed in on that.

Mr T a few days later had a fright over some imaginary ghosts and was screaming “mommy” on top of his lungs till I calmed him down. He’s my kid, even if I can’t be his full time mom due to laws I’ve fought for years now. I always said I couldn’t adopt till my life was sorted, but these past two years have, all the same, been a fight to do just that.

I love those kids, just as much as I love my gypsy self. At times I’ve loathed the fact that I couldn’t just be happy doing the one thing in the one place and felt a lot of guilt about it, but it’s not who I am. I need a home to come home to and places to travel to. I need balance. I need a steady income and an, erm, travel obsessed, intelligent, kind-hearted, creative lunatic of a boyfriend (I think that would mean we’d get along, don’t you?!). I need creative freedom and stability all in one go. But one thing I’ve decided, no matter what lands on my plate this year, I will look forward. Onward and upward. I will not let myself get distracted by the negative. You gotta enjoy what you can and right this moment I’m babysitting a farm with my boy. I was chasing a rooster before, we’ve been jumping on a trampoline and now I’m gonna make some popcorn.

It’s like Wilde said: “We all live in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” And, sometimes, I think the stars come down to join us, or maybe it’s us that sparkle like stars when we do what we love, in places we love, with the people we love.

The wind is blowing. Maybe change has arrived? And one of the biggest lessons you’ll ever learn is to flow with it, whilst simultaneously walking in the direction of your dreams.

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When a door is closed, a window is opened…

Something I realised last week is that disappointment always stings like hell. And at first it’s easy to get angry, sad, frustrated, or heartbroken (depending on the situation). We’re seemingly wired to want quick solutions.

Like last week someone told me they couldn’t do some of my financial projections any longer due to some other client needing their time. They’d said yes to doing them two weeks earlier and I needed them asap. I got angry, because I’d slaved to get the numbers ready so I could get someone to edit them and spruce it up a bit as soon as possible. And there I was two weeks later with nothing. I knew I had to start all over again with finding someone new for the numbers and receiving them that week was no longer going to happen. Likewise, I spoke to someone about being the COO for flipping three months and it didn’t work out. Did I feel like I’d had my time wasted? You have no idea.

I was really frustrated last week because the sooner I have the numbers, the sooner I can do various things and I soon leave for the US and have meetings I wanted to get done before leaving. I had perceived pressure.

So my first impulse was anger fueled by disappointment.

Of course I realized straight away that anger was futile. I thought I might as well just crack on with finding someone new. I might end up with someone better. And I did find someone, of course. If they’re better I don’t know. What I do know is that business is about playing the cards you’re dealt. Business is filled with obstacles. All the time. The fun is partly finding solutions. I like that game, but when I really count on something to happen and I believe I will get a pay off from it, I too get frustrated. And right now I have pretty much my whole life invested in my business.

Life is ever changing. We want the guy, the job, the investment, the whatever to work out. We want it so that our dreams come true. So that we can live the life we dream of. But these things often take turns we never could have predicted. As a result we either enjoy the journey moving forward, or we get stuck in not so pleasant emotions surrounding events we perceive as negative in the current moment. And it’s not always that it’s something like one event, sometimes we are seemingly surrounded by things that don’t seem so nice. You need to learn to see that from a perspective too. If there is one thing working in a township and helping with the twins have taught me it’s that. If I’d allow myself to get caught up in what’s happening around me I’d be suffering constantly. I fell for that trap last year and have spent the past six months trying to see what I give, not what I can’t change.

It’s a real art to be able to move forward happily at all times. Especially when you feel pressure around something. But no matter how real that pressure is, there’s always something beyond it. You might lose your job because someone else fucked up. You might lose an investment. You might lose a guy because you screwed up. You might lose a lot of things. But there is something beyond that. Maybe something better. Maybe some struggle before you reach that something better. We don’t know. I’ve heard a lot of people say “there’s a meaning with it” when they fuck up their life in the same way they’ve been fucking it up for the past twenty years, living out the same patterns. We need to stop and evaluate. Sometimes we have to make changes. We also need to stop weaving negative meaning into things though. Bad things are not necessarily as bad as they seem. Tomorrow you might score platinum after losing gold today. It’s just you don’t feel that yet. So you’re not happy yet.

Something I learnt in my teens when some law was changed and I was refused entry to the high school program I wanted because of it, is that when a door closes a window is opened. I chose a different program. The laws were then changed again, but I stuck with the International Baccalaureate. And today I live the international life I chose back then. I loved the IB. They had way too little arts in my school, but it was the first time I felt I was in a place were I belonged. Amongst the international ones.

So remember, even when you lose what you hold dearest, there will be a tomorrow. Just like there was a yesterday when you hadn’t even met what you came to hold dearest. Love in all shapes and forms (jobs, people, situations) is everywhere. If you only open your window to it.


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The magical mystical life…

This morning (now yesterday) I woke up not knowing where I was. I had this marvelous sensation in a dream of being back in Paris, telling someone this was a stint before going home to Los Angeles. In the dream I felt the feeling I feel in Paris – the joy of being in a place which speaks to me. Where I feel at home. A place which literally turns me on.

To me it makes sense to be in Paris, because Paris speaks to me. Paris is like a reflection of myself. It does not make sense to be in London, because London is not a reflection of who I am. And it fascinates me how there are parts of life that speak to us like that; parts of life that seem to reflect our heart.

Professions speak to us too. For some of us it makes sense to paint; for others to play with science. Is it influences from childhood? Is it hereditary? Is it past lives?

The same goes for people. Some people you have an almost unreal sense of connection with. It’s as if you’re made of the same stuff. Maybe the same stardust… I feel that way with my best friend. But why is it that way? Is it as simple as having the same interests and tastes in life? Only varied just enough so that it isn’t exactly the same? Or are we somehow soul mates with certain people? But what does that mean? Is it spiritual connections, or simply people in this life we connect with because we are similar? Is it past lives that make us recognize them, or is it just in this life? Is it that we can actually sense these things and so the meetings are unavoidable?

Art can speak to us like that as well.

I don’t know how these things happen. How we were made a certain way and therefore certain things in this life speak to us. It’s magical when it happens. You feel in the flow. And you feel at discord with life when you aren’t in a place you love, with people you love, doing what you love.

Sometimes I’m reminded I don’t know where I am, because Earth is somewhere…somewhere in space. I don’t know how the animals and plants could come to be. I don’t know why there illness and why certain plants cure it. I don’t know why animals were made to eat other animals. I don’t know why there is pain and suffering, nor do I know why there is pleasure and joy. I don’t know if there are past lives and future lives, or how life can come to be. Stardust come alive.

It’s a peculiar life, don’t you think? But ever so blissful when you connect with something or someone you love. Something which resonates with you. Something that makes you think it’s pieces of you come alive.

Confessions of a Dizzy Blonde

It’s all a bit mysterious, don’t you think?

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