Feeling my feelings

I can’t help smiling whenever I hear that phrase. It makes me think of some motivational speaker or life coach in some movie, I forget which, screaming ‘feeeeel your feelings!’ A few weeks ago I thought all those were hoaxes. It seemed strange to me that anyone would pay some stranger oodles of money to tell them what is basically common sense.

But then again, common sense isn’t always common … and I’d willingly spend millions on a shrink with a good leather couch.

Lately, I’m into New Age, which means a lot of things that I previously considered silly are now making a lot of sense. K6 will click at this, because, as he says, ‘It is not logical to perform the exact same tasks or receive the exact same stimulus in the exact same conditions and get a different result.’

Yeah, he’s nerdy like that. I like nerdy. Feticiously so.

No, it’s not a real word.

Anyway, one of the New Age thingimies is giving me trouble, and I was reminded of it here. It’s common sense that we should not compare ourselves with others, but it’s really, really, really hard not to.

One particular area that baffles me is the dream job. For example, my dream job would be hosting a rock show on Capital or X-FM. So it is difficult for me to understand Zain giving that up for a stint at CNN. Yes, I know CNN pays oodles more money, and it’s so cool seeing her up there on that screen, but for me, that’s like a step backwards.

I suppose it’s that her path is different. For her, radio was just a step on the ladder to CNN, same with many recording artistes who end up on film. For politicians, writing a book is a step to the white house, while for me, writing a book is the white house.

I sometimes toy with the idea of releasing a  one-hit-wonder-type rock track so I can get a radio job, so it amuses me that some people do it the other way around – using their radio jobs to launch a TV/movie/music career.

I’m a full-time editor – part-time-writer, but I am moving more towards writing.  It pays less, but it’s so much more fun! So, again, I am utterly confused by successful writers who just want to edit. How now? And why?

Walschism [again, not a real world, just a label for my favourite New Age guru, Neale Donald Walsch] advises that we should never envy another person’s success. He also says we should not pity them or celebrate them, because we don’t know what their path is.

I may be drooling over so-and-so’s V8 thinking he has it made, when perhaps his desire is to own three V28s, and so for him, that’s like a mkokoteni or a tuktuk.

Or like the video for All American Rejects ‘Gives you hell’. One guy has the perfect suburban life – blonde spouse, pretty house, fish tank; the other guy has the perfect rock star gig – mansion, Megan Foxish girlfriend, groupies and afterparties. Yet all each guy wants is the other guy’s wife life.

Imagine a person who is javving or biking. He whistles at a passing BMW, and the BMW driver responds by saying the BM is like a … Vitz in his eyes. Wouldn’t you want to pluck the guy’s eyes out? Wouldn’t you think he was totally dissing you? Or being unforgivably arrogant?

Yet he is simply being honest.

We all have different goals in life, different measures of success. So it’s safer not to focus on someone else’s success. For one thing, it’s terribly frustrating, leads to murderous thoughts, and can’t be defended as a crime of passion. And for another, you may be busy envying their queen sized mansion when all they want is a one-dollar salary and mud-thatched hut with wi-fi.

I mean, think about it: Obama, Bill Gates, the Dalai Lama and Oprah walk into a bar…

♫♫♫♫

In a kind of related thing, New Age and The Secret suggest I should always be aware of my thoughts and feelings.

That’s not always easy for me.

I have a PhD is overthinking, but I don’t always know exactly what it is that I am thinking. I’ll be sitting somewhere with my legs crossed and my fingers in a root mudra with this spaced out look on my face, and if you asked me what I was thinking, I’d have no idea.

The Secret’s answer to that is to forget the thinking and just ask what I’m feeling.

Er … not helping.

Many times when I feel like that, it easy to talk things out, or write things out. And so usually if I spend some time with the relevant K15 and they talk me through it, I can figure out what the ‘thought’ is. But my K15 are human too, so they’re not always here.

♫♫♫♫

When I’m around certain people, I feel tense, uptight. I have no clue why, but it’s not a feeling I enjoy. The weirdest thing is there are about five of them, and every time I’m with one of them, I think of the other four. Yet they have no relation to each other. It’s like they’re sitting on my chest and I can’t breathe. Weird!!

A year ago, I would have blamed demons or negative spirits, but today, I’m just furrowing my brow, wondering why I react this way, and debating on whether I should just call them up and ask them what they put in my oxygen.

Hm.

Yeah, that’s probably not a very good idea.

♫♫♫♫

You know the way you’re pregnant, and then suddenly every woman you see is expectant? Or you buy your dream car and the next day, everyone in the jam has the very same model and colour?

The same thing happened when I pierced my nose and grew my dreads. Before, it seemed unique, but after, every third person was a bull-ringed rasta.

[Incidentally, why is it then when a dreadlocked person walks by, people shout ‘rasta’ but when a bald/braided/blonde/curly kitted/tonged/badly weaved person walks past, nobody shouts ‘weave/kipara ngoto?’]

♫♫♫♫

I’ve made a major decision in my life, and suddenly, I am bombarded with people who have made the same decision … and failed miserably!! It’s actually pretty scary.

Logic would say I should rescind my decision, but unfortunately, that’s not really an option.

I think the reason I’m seeing so many failures is because I have an intense fear of, you know, failing. I am the type that never tries anything unless I am absolutely sure I can pull it off. I do the research, find resource people, read all the manuals. If there’s even the slightest doubt, I back way off.

Which means that at some point in this process, I was sure that I would make it.

Like attracts like. My fear is calling more thoughts of fear, giving me more reasons to wet my pants. I need to find my confidence again. I need to stop tapping all this negative energy and find me some success stories. Some kind of Chicken Soup for the FOF-fing Soul.

Or maybe I need to just stop believing every bad thing I read… even if there’s an awful lot of it online.

There’s an idea … I could just stop reading stuff online.

Hmm. Why do I suddenly feel like an ostrich with its head in the sand?

…Holly came out, Billy got paid,

but Jenny got pregnant the first time she got laid…

All my rage
Sits inside
When even the finest things
Are leaving you hollow

HollowBetter than Ezra

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Lessons from my love

It’s been an interesting weekend. I’ve had some highs and lots of lows, and I’ve found something I thought I’d lost.

They say many people don’t know what love is. I’m not sure that I do either. But I know it feels beautiful to love, and to be loved.

I have been told, again, not to take myself so seriously. Indeed, not to take anything so seriously, and for some reason, the telling has made me feel very liberated.

I realise that I can’t control my child, I have to just let her be. But I also see that I should not be angry when she tries to control me.

I realise that I can’t run everything – actually, I can’t rule anything except my reactions, thoughts and feelings, which, ironically, is the one thing I felt I had no say in.

I have learnt, finally, that just because I’m INFJ/Mel-choleric/Type 4 doesn’t mean I have to be so goth all the time. I can still be insightful and deep without looking like my face was etched in a frown. I can criticise and analyse without drowning in the dark side. It’s not going to be easy, but nothing worthy ever is. And after all, Yoda is so much cuter that Darth Vader.

I accept that when someone offers me favours because of my looks, I don’t have to accept, but I also don’t have to be mad about it. Because in their own warped way, they were giving a compliment.

I cede that people have a right to like me or not to like me, and I have no business asking them how or why. Each to his own, different strokes, and even silver spoons **cheeky grin**

In the arms of my love, as he held me while I cried, I have found peace. And he showed me, as he often does, that the peace wasn’t in him but in me. All he did was find it, tease it, and call it out.

My dearest, darling love, it’s a joy to love you, and an honour to be loved by you. Amen.

Ben JelenCome on

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Oh crap, it got me :-(

Disclaimer: This will royally piss you off.

I spend a lot of time here, and it’s mostly a good thing. But sometimes, sometimes it can be really, really depressing.

There are certain things that everyone can do: tie a shoelace, break olympic records when faced with a speeding bullet or a really big dog, write an application letter, kick a football.

But even within these things, there are people who make a career. We can all [probably] take a penalty kick and pull a fluke goal. But we are not all Theo Walcott. We can all leap tall buidlings when we are caught on top, lakini, there’s Usain. We can all write, yes we can, and we can all blog. But not everybody gets paid to do it.

A topic I saw at Nathan’s once  asked how a writer copes with what I can only describe as literary agoraphobia. What do you do when you look at your work and think “Am I insane? What rubbish! Why do I even try?” I answered that I don’t, I have never doubted my ability. I write because I love it, and because I am good at it. Period.

But I have to admit that after reading this I am starting to wonder whether I’m not just another nut with a laptop an internet stick. It is not a pleasant feeling.

Bah humbug.

Ooh soap bubbles!!

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