Tag Archives: inspiration

Tender loving care and frustrating thoughts…

There was one day last year when I felt a little bit embarrassed and all I wanted to do was go hide in my best friend’s kitchen. Only she was in Greece. And I was frustrated.

I wanted my best friend. I wanted to cook with her and laugh with her and host dinner parties with her. Like it’s supposed to be. Only it hasn’t been like that for years because we live in different countries. We don’t share a house anymore and our friends no longer come marching over saying we’re “the hostesses that are the mostestes”. And it sucks.

That particular day it sucked even more because I felt humiliated as something had happened that touched upon an old wound. So I wanted to be with someone who made me feel loved for who I am and who would laugh together with me at the ridiculous thoughts we have surrounding old wounds. I wanted someone who made me forget my pain, in short. Because I really didn’t want to face it.

Today I woke up exhausted – my boy is scared of ghosts and he won’t sleep unless he sleeps next to me, or his sister. He was raised in a township and he never had a bed of his own till he came to stay with me and he still hates it. We’re working through this issue, but in the meantime to save myself from horrid tantrums at bedtime he either falls asleep in the couch in my bedroom and then wakes up and sleeps in my bed, or he sleeps next to me or his sister all night. Last night he slept next to me, so I couldn’t sleep properly and woke up exhausted with a headache.

I was irritable and I felt horrible. All I could think was that I wanted someone to hug me and look after me so I could relax. I didn’t want to clean up the mess after the kids, work and attend meetings. I wanted to be pampered. And given I’d never sink so low as to admit to wanting a man that’s like not cool. According to my ego, it’s so not cool.

What’s more, I was irritated with myself because I’ve been so happy lately and I wasn’t prepared to face a day of being a grumpy old fart. After three years of battling problems the size of Mount Everest I’ve finally turned a leaf and then…I’m grumpy? As someone with a history of depression I do not like gray days. I do not like them one bit.

So I clearly wanted TLC, which I didn’t want to admit to, but it would be a quick fix for my intolerable mood. And I wasn’t going to get it. Which was frustrating as hell. It was like wanting to go to see my best friend and knowing that it would take months before it happened (though now it’s just TWO weeks!!!!!!). I might be decent at magicking up men, but the same day? Besides, I’ve promised myself not to do it like that anymore because like The mousetrap… will clarify, when I magick up men…

With no snuggle party in sight and me wanting to hit myself in the head with an iron skillet for wanting one in the first place, I decided to do the next best thing: use my intuition (OK so that’s like the first thing to do, not the second, but hey…).

Intuition fucking rocks. Whilst it might not immediately relieve you of your headache or sexual frustration (take your pick) it does help you see the obvious solutions you couldn’t see when focusing on all the illogical logic brought to you by an overwhelming stream of thoughts and emotions.

Today I realized I can still create magic, even when I’m tired and have a headache. I’m not “bad” because I run out of energy. I’m still a magic pixie who can throw about my fairy dust when I look upon the world like poetry. I can choose my focus and instead of focusing on my frustration at being tired, I can look upon the same mountain I looked upon yesterday feeling inspired. I can still write poetry and marvel at the beauty of life. There are also ways to recharge that will truly recharge me – I realized that I need to relax in nature, which I fully intend to do this weekend.

I want my best friend to spend more time with me, even when I’m in the best of all possible moods. I genuinely miss her like crazy and I know we have to take responsibility for spending more time together instead of bitching about being apart. She’s one of the people who make me feel free because she allows me to be me, as described in Painting the sky with stars… However, she’s not an excuse to hide from my pain and thereby avoid dealing with it.

And whilst I need to face up to the fact that we all need TLC and open myself up to that, no matter how humiliating I think it feels, I can’t run myself to the ground and then expect someone else to pick up the pieces.

We all need to take responsibility for our own lives and emotions, whilst simultaneously accept that no matter where we are along the way, we’re worthy hugs. Big juicy hugs. And I would really love some.

2f23adf8c184654c854c922040ccc42d

Image Source: https://za.pinterest.com/pin/507780926719627960/

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Life, Love, Thoughts, Uncategorized

Out of the shadows and into the light…

What makes you squirm uncomfortably? Often somewhere in our squirming moments we tend to find ourselves.

Personally I have this issue with helplessness and receiving care; usually because I confuse the two.

If people care for me I think they believe I need their care because I have some flaw, something I can’t handle myself, and they pity me and want to help. It’s a most humiliating feeling.

As a kid I thought the only reason most people cared for me was because I’d lost my mom. I was bullied and my step-mom wasn’t particularly nice to me so when people were nice I assumed it was pity, because so many people weren’t nice to me, meaning I must have some fault. Otherwise, why was I constantly rejected?

I even had this idea my mom hadn’t loved me – she refused hugging me the last time I saw her, then she died without leaving behind any letters left saying she loved me. It was not a good 24 hours of my life. And afterwards there was a huge hole inside of me and I didn’t know how to fill it. Being cared for by someone hurt when you could lose them, so my six year old self thought.

What’s more, my dad always encouraged me to better myself, so on another plane, I had this idea love was related to achievement. The only times I felt love was real was when people said “I love you, but…” Because then I could keep the idea of being flawed. If they seemed to just randomly love me, without pitying me (i.e. they actually seemed to care), I thought them stupid, or blind…take your pick.

Together with some early on rejections on the love front (try having your emotions and rejection trumpeted to a whole school when you’re fifteen – I blushed for a week straight), I’m not very good with emotions. I simply don’t want to confess to having them (not even to myself), because I think they cause trouble.

This has manifested in different ways in my life. First I became shy as I figured it was better being rejected for who I was not, than showing my real me. Then I wanted to change that and ended up always trying to prove my own strength. My can-do attitude. My willingness to perfect myself. My fiercely independent spirit. I feel safe when I’m independent. I feel in charge.

As my principal in drama school would have said, I’ve gone from using one cover (shy) to using another (independent). Being the seeker I am (and being as miserable as I was) I’ve always worked on myself though. I wanted to find happiness and happiness has a lot to do with self-love, loving people and letting them love you back. So I’ve worked on it. And recently what made me realize there’s a way to go is the “being cared for” thing.

When people try to care for me beyond my comfort level three things might happen: I feel suffocated (I can’t accept the care), I feel embarrassed (clearly they think I need help), or I think they’re being ridiculous (i.e. still thinking people blind to the real me). In some cases, I might also question if they’re doing it just to later embarrass me by telling me it wasn’t real (it really was very traumatic being fifteen, OK). If I actually want to receive the care I feel completely helpless because I don’t know how to. This leads to me wanting to be alone so I can feel powerful again and I can turn mean in the process of pushing people away.

Due to this I have had a tendency to fall for aloof men – men I connect with intellectually and/or physically. I don’t have to open up emotionally, because they’re like clams (or well, you know, a little bit clammy at least). They’re never completely into me, which means I don’t truly have to ever lose them. They won’t look after me, so I won’t feel stupid.

When I dated caring men in the past, it was always men I didn’t really have a connection with, so they never got close and I remained safe and aloof.

In a nutshell: the guys I liked didn’t care and the guys who liked me I didn’t care about.

Now, I could blame this on fate, or I could look at the common denominator in all this: me. I choose to look at me.

This year I’ve decided to turn everything in my life on its head, including my emotional life. I will do the things I fear the most. Like opening up socially in the place I call home, instead of waiting to go to places where I feel anonymous and safe. I will professionally go where I’m the most scared to go, because I care the most. I will also only date caring men I care about AND have a connection with. It will probably make me wanna puke, run for my life and feel like a claustrophobic person stuck in an elevator, but I’m determined that the only relationships I will have are soulful ones. In fact, I want everything in my life to be soulful – my work, my home, my kids, my friends…

For so long I’ve wanted to be the person who didn’t care, who didn’t feel, who just went on adventures and ran off with the circus. Well, whilst I do like the adventures and I’d happily join a circus for a while, I’d like to explore caring. Right here, right now. I’d also like to explore being with someone. Someone who would go on adventures with me; near and far. Someone I could create a home with, but also have freedom with. I like being independent, but I don’t like being a fool. And I’ve been a fool for long enough.

e4c6dc2d24448a1ab217b9f9e60274a7

Image Source: https://za.pinterest.com/pin/507780926716211533/ 

Leave a comment

Filed under Inspiration, Love, relationships, Self, Self-esteem, Thoughts, Uncategorized

A gathering of artists…

Does it ever strike you, when looking at a painting, what it must have been like painting it? And does it ever strike you how a painting can connect many different lives in a roundabout manner?

I have been reading some books by Ella Carey lately. Can’t say the books are fabulous, but they have elements of Paris and la belle épouque in them and I have a hard time resisting those. At any rate, one of them is about someone finding Marthe de Florian’s (famous courtesan during late 1800s/early 1900s) apartment intact from the 1940’s, but furnished like an apartment from the late 1800s. In other words, it was like finding a remnant of la belle époque well and alive. That part is based on a true story – this apartment was found intact in 2010. In it was a painting by Boldini of Marthe de Florian, which was sold for over 2 million euros.

During my time in drama school I acted various characters from various different centuries. I also directed pieces set in different centuries. On top of it we studied art history and some of the pieces we did were centered around paintings. For example, one acting exercise was to create a character around a person in a portrait – dress up as the person in the portrait, hold their pose and think their thoughts in the moment. We also had to do that as a directing exercise; directing someone else to do it. Another was to direct a so called picture play – making a painting come alive.

For my actor’s portrait I did something by Kahlo first, but then I must have switched to a portrait by Boldini. I can’t remember much, but I remember the way I held the dress and the green fabric. Reading these books the name Boldini struck me as familiar and eventually I figured out this was why. It made me ponder how an artist affects people in so many different ways and also bring people together through their love of the artist’s works.

boldrinimostra

When I was nineteen I watched Baz Luhrmann’s Moulin Rouge and got so inspired by the film and its bohemian revolution that I promptly swore to do something worthwhile with my gap year and decided that by December 10 or something like it, I was to leave the country, so if I had to go alone. I ended up backpacking in the midst of winter, which also included a visit to Paris over Christmas.

On Christmas Eve, after going to the Swedish church, the train I was on in the metro passed by La Pigalle and as I’d heard it was like London’s SoHo, which I liked, and that it was where the Moulin Rouge was, I got off. And ended up at an Irish pub where someone asked if I was looking for a job. I said yes and consequently set out to find one. That’s how I ended up living in Paris.

In drama school in London I did the aforementioned piece with Boldini, I acted in a picture play surrounding a Degas painting, I acted in Maupassant’s stories and so forth, so I had an excuse to study Paris in the late 1800s/early 1900s. I found this book, Belle Epoque: Paris in the Nineties by Raymond Rudorff and I believe it might have spent more time with me than in the library. I became fascinated by that era. 

Once upon a time a man named Boldini painted a portrait that would one day feature in an acting exercise I did. His paintings have played parts in many other people’s lives, just as many others have probably been affected by the Moulin Rouge, in one way or another. I’m sure though, that when it was built no one knew that one day a filmmaker would revive it in a film, that would set some blue eyed Swede traveling across Europe in search of a bohemian revolution.

I’m also fairly sure that when Trotsky kissed Kahlo he didn’t think that one day some art and history students would sit pondering what he thought when he did it. Or maybe it’s just me that think about that. And how lives are intertwined in the most intriguing ways.

I didn’t quite grasp that I wasn’t the only one obsessed with la belle époque until I saw Midnight in Paris. For every glass of absinthe Lautrec drank there must be some artist depicting his life, or the life of the Moulin Rouge, in another work of art.

I guess we all want to experience the different ages of history, just as we’d like to invite our favorite people throughout history to a dinner, or an intimate conversation. To find out who they really were. A dinner with Da Vinci – fancy that! And maybe one could bring back the Medicis to try have them convince people artists are needed – paid artists.

Maybe it is as Allen tries to say in Midnight in Paris though, maybe we’re all just dreaming when life is right here. And maybe, just maybe, we should try to live it. Besides, le Louvre is still there. We can still get glimpses of what was, strolling around looking at all the paintings. Even Da Vinci’s notebooks are still around. And in a sense we are the result of what was then. We are what people wanted then, because that’s what they created. Maybe they made a few mistakes in their creations, but life has evolved.

I’d like to go back to the salons…from the French Revolution and onward, I’d like to see the rebirth of art in the renaissance and I wouldn’t mind experiencing a bit of the bohemian revolution in the Moulin Rouge, but truth be told, those ideas would be old now. Some of those ideas need to be reborn, perhaps, but in the way of this century. Maybe in the way of my business? After all, there’s definitively a touch of la belle époque and the Moulin Rouge in there…

So you know, whilst others give deep answers to the books and films that changed their lives, I just do the can can…

My rather lose interpretations of Degas. I feel Boldini is going to hit my sketch pad next. I can only draw things I see and his paintings are old enough not to warrant copyright infringement I think… 

Leave a comment

Filed under Art, Artistry, Artists, La Belle Époque, Musings, Uncategorized

Zlatan Ibrahimović and I…

Zlatan is kicking a ball. Right now that means a lot to me. Not because I’m into soccer, but because of what it symbolizes.

I was raised in Malmö and so was Zlatan. We went to high school together (the same high school Anita Ekberg went to, but that was before our time…). I can’t remember ever seeing him, though I must have seen him many times. It was a large high school and we attended different programs – he attended the soccer program and I did the International Baccalaureate.

Zlatan used to play for Malmö FF. Three of grandma’s brothers once upon a time played for Malmö FF too. They made quite a name for themselves – the Hjertsson brothers. Sven, one of them, notoriously pulled his shorts down during a game in Brazil, as he felt it would take too long to walk off the field to change to a new pair. I suspect that only fueled their fame. Kjell, on the other hand, ended up training a young Zlatan at some point or other.

I’m on “workcation” in Sweden for a couple of months and was staying with my gran this week as she’s recovering from cancer surgery. Zlatan’s dad lives in an apartment opposite of hers, which she reminded me about when I was there.

I ran into a guy in Morocco, outside Marrakech, who, once he found out I was Swedish, told me that Zlatan always passed by when in town. I bumped into someone else recently as well that had a story about Zlatan, but I forget what country I was in. I think it was in the UK.

Of course, if you open the sports pages of a magazine, again, there’s Zlatan. Right now, my dad is watching Sweden play Italy and, well, there’s Zlatan on the screen.

Wherever I go, there’s Zlatan.

I don’t care much about soccer. I never understood the pleasure of chasing a ball and, even less, watching others chase it. Of course, it can be fun for the sake of the atmosphere where you watch the game though and some goals are spectacular. Especially Zlatan’s.

The thing is, in so many places around the world right now there’s fear. In some countries it’s because neighboring countries don’t get along. In other countries, it’s because different groups within the country don’t get along. There was a mass shooting in Orlando that wasted so many people’s lives for no comprehensible reason. At least no comprehensible reason to me. It makes me scared to think there are people out there capable of murdering like that. Yet, I look at the images from Paris and thousands of people have gathered to watch people kick ball. They’ve stood up against the threat of terrorists and as different as they all are, they’re united in the pleasure of watching a game. A simple game of kicking ball has removed borders and barriers and made people come together in joy.

It gives me hope. I work in a township in South Africa and many times I’m so bothered by what I see and experience it feels like a part of me gives up, because I don’t understand how man could create such a cruel world. Then I see one man, by kicking a ball, uniting people all over the world in their admiration for how he kicks that ball. It’s such a simple thing – the love of sports. The love of playing a game. The love of team spirit.

One day I hope that team spirit encompasses the world and what we fight for is not our way, but the best way for the earth and all who live upon it. I know it’s not that simple. But look how far we can get just by kicking a ball.

5298e7f0e366d5beb7c8f9bfcb1b4279

Image source: https://za.pinterest.com/pin/507780926717812850/ 

Leave a comment

Filed under Hope, Inspiration, Peace, Soccer, Sports, Uncategorized

A naked confession…

There are days when you feel Murphy’s law is hitting you full on in the face. Days when all you want to do is crawl back to bed. You’re tired. You’ve been walking up a mountain and you’re out of strength. You think you can’t keep going. Your resources are depleted. Then suddenly you look up. And you see everything around you – the beauty of the mountain you’re standing on. The sunshine. The gorgeous people surrounding you. You remember the passion you have for the path you’re on – why you are climbing the mountain in the first place. And you realize that maybe if you shift your focus from the problem to what you have in your life which you love, then you see you live a blessed life. You have so much to be grateful for. So many things you love. Murphy’s law suddenly doesn’t feel so bad anymore. After all it’s just a tiny stumbling block. And should it turn out it’s blocking the path you’re currently on with no way of getting past it, then you’ll find another route. Your passion remains the same. The top of the mountain remains the same. You just have to find another way to get there. And who knows? Maybe there will be a stranger to give you a hug and encourage you along the way… If he’s naked, all the better. ‪#‎LifesJourney‬ ‪#‎AHugPlease‬‪ #‎FocusCreatesReality‬ 

2605ed5b9617bee5f04b32764fdf7512.jpg

Image Source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/507780926714451787/ 

Leave a comment

Filed under adventures in life, Inspiration, Inspirational, Motivation, personal thoughts, Uncategorized

Two men and a bed…

Last night I went to bed with Rimbaud and Jöback. Two gay men and me. Quite the threesome.

On that note I highly recommend you never start writing a blog that alludes to sex in the headline. Because sooner or later you will start finding sex jokes and innuendo everywhere. It becomes a habit. Though most of the time, of course, you’re busy doing other things like say setting up a business, charity work and working as a freelance creative. Another threesome. A threesome some people might miss if they only read the headline.

I had the twins round yesterday and it struck me how far we’ve come. It is the most beautiful feeling. If you’ve ever tried raising other people’s children, children who’ve been abused since birth, you’d understand. It’s not easy. The rewards are paramount, but you’re never guaranteed them. And if you, like me, is a family support and you don’t have the right to adopt you often feel like you never do enough. It’s a heartbreaking feeling. It’s a bizarre feeling too, because you are helping, but it would be so much nicer if you had no worries about paying for any school, any extracurricular activity, any therapy and so forth. You pay for all that, you just don’t have as much as you’d like.

And that’s where you have choice – either you see the good you are doing, or you think you aren’t doing good enough.

I’ve thought a lot about how we see things and therefore act this week. Some conversations with my sister and best friend about people’s, including my own, love lives (when I’m not having threesomes with gay men, that is) have made me reflect upon this. You know how you have these patterns? You like certain men (playful mavericks), you react in certain ways (impress) and you feel in certain ways (not good enough). Then you meet men you don’t care much for (not crazy enough), you react in certain ways (completely aloof) and you feel in certain ways (goddess). End result, completely different. The men you don’t try to impress run after you, the men you try to impress stay aloof from you. Possibly because the men you try to impress never liked you in the first place beyond a certain level of attraction…and maybe that’s why you picked them.

Of course we act in certain ways to feed our subconscious beliefs. I think I’m not good enough so it’s perfectly OK if men I don’t like, like me. If men I do like, like me we’re on unchartered territory. I might end up with claustrophobia. Or I might end up messing things up just to prove my unworthiness. Or maybe I’d just have to be vulnerable. I might lose someone I care about as life isn’t certain. I might have to trust and trust can be broken. I might realize I’m actually quite lovable. Now that’s some scary shit. (I mean it’s just old thought patterns stuck in your brain since childhood. None of that is real. But you have habitual feelings attached to habitual thoughts and sometimes we get stuck there, simply because we haven’t figured out there are other ways.)

So then you sort of reach the conclusion that you are just going to be. Hang with the tension. Not try to prove your greatness, whilst thinking you have to do it to hide your unworthiness. You have to just be. With all your uncomfortable thoughts that you’ve now stirred to the surface. Hopefully that will mean they soon evaporate. If you try to suppress them, or wrestle with them, on the other hand, they will stay.

You also reach the conclusion after years of painful (or not…) investigation that it’s not a good idea to date “nice” men whom you aren’t that into (the not so playful not mavericks). You have to find the guy who you like, who likes you. You can’t compromise on the quality of their weirdness. That’s just non-negotiable.

It’s getting late. I’m thinking I need to crack on with a few more things with Magique (never start a business unless you are perfectly OK with being on unchartered territory…like I should be in my love life) and then go to bed with two of my favorite men. Maybe tonight it will be Leto and Rimbaud instead? One gay guy, one experimental guy (someone once tried to put me off him by saying he does anything – I told the person I could quite accommodate that) and one of me. Of course one is also dead and I don’t know the other. Could be a slight problem.

(Rimbaud was a famous French poet. Jöback is a famous Swedish musical artist. If you don’t know Leto, you’ve been missing out. Google Leto + acoustic.)

fd0a32e1b952751bca97cd54d50c3bee
Image Source: Magique www.carnavaldudesir.com
Photographer: Valentina Socci

1 Comment

Filed under Dating, Humor, Love, Love-life, Personal Development, personal growth, Thoughts, Uncategorized

The turned on life…

Last night I went to this event. On a rooftop. Music playing. Tropical winds blowing. Stars twinkling. The silhouette of mountains as our backdrop. It was beautiful. I was happy. I was happy because I felt free. Like there were no thoughts hampering me, or holding me back. I wasn’t shy, nor trying on any attitudes to hide my fear, I was just there taking in life. I was alive. Truly alive.

And as I stood there chatting to a group of people this man goes: “You know you are a very pretty woman. A very, very pretty woman. You really are pretty you know.” A few minutes later he repeated this and when he said goodbye he said so again.

When you meet someone you don’t know what they’ve been through. You’ll likely make some assumptions. To me hearing those words last night was like a breeze of kindness sweeping over me. Not because I think I’m ugly and needed to hear I’m pretty, but because someone cared enough to compliment me.

I grew up being bullied both at home and at school. As a kid I could live off a compliment for months, because I didn’t get that many. They were like a hope – a beacon of light – promising me that maybe, maybe I was worth something after all. Most of the time I got to hear I was a geek and I should shut up, or at home that my step-sisters were fabulous and I was not. It took me many, many years to build up my confidence and heal my wounds. It took me many years to be happy just being me and trusting that there truly are kind people around.

A compliment I often receive these days is hearing I’m the most interesting person someone’s ever met and that I live the most astounding life. I feel both proud and like a bit of a fake when they tell me that though. I may have done interesting things and learnt a lot along the way, but that doesn’t mean I was happy all along, or that my day-to-day life was much more than being married to my Mac (work) or working my ass off to help some children.

I always focused on my career, because I was less scared of that. I had confidence in my abilities, but not in myself. And I love what I do, so I kept thinking I’d be happy the day I have artistic freedom – when I can run whatever projects I want. I was so frustrated having to do other things to make a living I invested all my free time in trying to build a career for myself running my own business, working on charity and making my own movies. Yet, it was always my excuse – you guys go have fun, I’ll go and work. And somewhere along the line I had enough – I want to live, not just try to make it.

I will always work double hours, I have no doubt, because I really do love the projects I run, but I will take time to live too; not just through my projects but through myself. I want to dance till the small hours, drink wine with interesting people in cozy wine bars, go hiking in sun burnt hills, sip coffee and talk about artistry and discuss ideas and projects that set my heart on fire. I want to run away on impulsive trips filled with adventure and discover the scents, spices, foods and impressions of different cities and people around the globe. I want to make love till the morning, go skinny dipping in foreign seas and love freely with every inch of my being. I want friends that make my heart come alive. I want to live. In every area of my life.

fe888fab80d9222b830f9f4426c6768b

Image Source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/507780926714255703/ 

Leave a comment

Filed under dreams, Inspiration, Inspirational, Life, Uncategorized