The First Cut is the Deepest

I took The Lish to her first ever gig.  It was to see Ariana Grande – a Nickleodeon star with a voice that betrays her diminutive frame.  Not Aretha Franklin by any stretch of the imagination but certainly a rich and full bodied R&B sound.  Actually she is quite typical fare for a young female artist coming out of the US right now.  Her sound is not to my taste but I appreciate that she has talent.  I just wish she’d put some clothes on over the talent.  It is the age old dilemma for women: how to make friends and impress people.  I hope my Lishy realises that without the voice, she’d just be a lap dancer.

While this is my place to purge, today is not about that.  Today is about celebrating this very special “first”.  I’m fully aware that it’s likely more special to me than it will be to Lishy, at least until my time comes and the event takes on the premium only afforded by death.  I may be wrong, she may yet grow up to love music to the degree I do and think back on how cool her first time was…or not.

It was at the O2 Arena – a large venue made all the more gigantic by being  9 years old.  I got her into the VIP lounge – a gesture lost on her where she asked for a glass of tap water (long may her simple tastes last).  I think she may have been feeling a little overwhelmed as indicated by the tight grip on my hand as we took our seats.

Then the lights dimmed and a roar went up from the crowd.  This caused her to grip even harder to the point where the tips of my fingers turned a deep plum in colour.  And then finally out prances Ariana having apparently forgotten to get dressed.  Anyhoo…..

It wasn’t long before Lish Losh was bouncing around with her hands in the air, like she just didn’t care.  It was something else to be there with her for this. 

My first gig was at the Hammersmith Apollo to see The Time (Morris Day’s band – he was the band in Prince’s film Purple Rain).  I must have been about 14 and I went with a friend and her older sister.  I remember vividly the feeling of awe at seeing the drum kit on a pedestal, the keyboards and all the mikes set up around the stage and the blackness.  It marked the beginning of my fascination with drumming for instance.  It was surreal to me that I would finally be seeing a musician in the flesh and interestingly I really was there for the music unlike if it had been say Duran Duran where I would have been there just for John Taylor.  I am quite proud of that. 

Don’t’ get me wrong  I have since gone to see many bands for the male tottie but none of those experiences compare with seeing a truly talented musician do his or her thing.    And so if Ariana Grande’s thing (even if her trademark is a pair of cat ears) does it for Lishy, then it’s A-ok with me.

Master and Muse

Ladies and gents, I'm back! I cry in a voice that hits the soprano C of righteous indignation.  I feel reborn and at the same time re-visited. It appears that 6 months of separation has brought me back to my 30 year old self - the girl that took off on a round the world trip, not to find herself but indeed to very much lose herself; a girl in complete control of her earthly affairs (if not her mental faculties) and one that would not step foot on European soil for  2 years - THAT'S how lost I got (in a good way).  All along and throughout my nomadic existence I made sure practical matters were all still very much under control.  Then I married The Silverback within a year of meeting him and turned into a vegetable (I speak retrospectively as I could  not see this at the time).  I take complete responsibility for this outcome. I was the one that handed over all my power. Tut tut. Silly girl. I know this is also why there could be no other outcome but the one that has come to pass.

But I have turned a corner, the sort that takes you to a really cool part of town you had not expected to find and then like quite as much.  Yes, I do not mind admitting the transition has been brutal; between mediation of the emotional, physical, material and spiritual - I have found at times it felt like walking through thick thigh-high mud as I slowly and reluctantly took back the reigns for all areas of my life (financial to sentimental and everything in between).  I admit too that I am happier, less stressed and more excited about a domain of future potentiality in every aspect of living that I last felt while planning that epic world tour all those years ago.

Here are some things that don't scare me any more: bills, being alone, having no plans, having plans, men and the idea of another relationship (in fact dating is back on the menu and has proven rather an acquired taste - mostly because in typical fashion I rushed in where angels fear to tread and have already been burned ; baby steps are needed  since I have forgotten what that is all about) and a real honest to goodness put-your-hours-in career.

I feel liberated, finally and I have managed to arrive at this place with little judgement - an unexpected result for sure and for which I have yoga to thank - well yoga and a towering inferno of self help books and articles.  All it took was to surrender which make no mistake has nothing to do with giving in.

Let's just say that I am happy with good enough; I myself alone will provide the Great.

So I stand on the precipice of the next phase.  What or who that entails, time will reveal though I know how the story ends as the cards have told me exactly what is coming.  While it looks like all my wishes will manifest, fulfilment will only come if I remember who the boss is.   That my friends is me.

Living With What I Know For Sure

I want to turn the tone around here.  Agreed - it’s been a difficult few months mostly filled with the potency of having to swallow bitter pill after bitter pill but with the help of Hare Krishna (no joke - it's a powerful mantra), yoga and really the very best of friends, I am slowly turning this freighter around and emptying it of its toxic contents.  All of this while navigating the emotionally super charged time of Christmas, uncertainties at work, the soul-sucking properties of winter (and an especially cold one at that) plus careful consideration of the feelings and emotional welfare of a truly amazing little cherub of a girl.  My girl.  

Of course the stress of it all gave me shingles.  I don’t recommend it.  But somehow here we are 5 months later having crossed all of that terrain more successfully than I could have hoped.  If I’d been given the above as a “to do” list on paper, I would most certainly have crumbled.  But the universe provides and God (I refer to the divine self not a fella with a white beard) truly works in mysterious ways.  Those ways have seen me put half a year between the demise of a 10 year relationship almost without noticing.  I’ve learnt then that life passes you by in the blink of an eye if you let it.  Sure shit stuff like break-ups are welcome to pass at the speed measure used in E=MC²  but that’s it.   

I am now committed to living in technicolour again – something I guess I haven’t done in a decade if I am totally and completely honest with myself.  And so onto another phase that I will call – living with what I know for sure…or trying to.  So for instance, what I know for sure today is that I woke up healthy, my Lishy is amazing, I have a job and roof over my head and I have the most incredible friends.  

What I also know for sure is that I deserved and deserve better than the mediocre man that turned out to be a liar, a cheat and a coward.  Still, he must have some deep rooted wounds too and I wish him well.  

To him and everyone living half heartedly I recommend Oprah's book:  What I Know for Sure.  May it help you as it has done me.  Love and Light.