Love and life

Can you have one without the other? I do not pretend to know. To have a love is a concept that I cannot capture. To be loved, I feel is special. I have yet to experience this. By loved, I mean a life changing love.

The illusion of love is a whole other notion. I do have experience of this. I’ve eluded love in a lot of situations throughout my life. This illusion has made me over analyse aspects of my life that I really did not want to; but such is life.

To love yourself for the person you are is truly tough. To accept yourself, faults and all, is one of life’s challenges. If we take on this challenge, we may fear that we will crumble. Fear not. This, I feel, is part of the process.

An ounce of fear is good. It is fear that keeps you from becoming something that you do not want to be. Fear keeps you in the game of life.

Live it and you will love it. I have no doubt.

Extreme ways

Throughout life there are challenges to face up to. Some battles we win and some we lose. Value can be placed on the smallest gestures; whether it is a smile or a mutual understanding to just let be.

I think it is important to recognise, the toughest of people have weak moments. It may not be obvious because a lot of people put on a fantastic show. They could be falling apart inside. They cannot lose face. They just do it; this is how they survive.

It is all relative, insomuch as to say, everyone has their own unique way of dealing with a situation. This is the beauty of the individual. This concept should be emphasized until the weight, that life can inevitably bring, is, not only numbed but, comfortably lifted.

My inspiration

The ones I admire most are those who handle the toughest situations with grace. The thing we all have to realise is that, yes, we all have a pile of shit in life. The basic philosophy to dwell on is that shit happens and when it does come flying, we have to go through it. Wade in it. But deal with it and come out the other side a better person for it.

Many of those who I most admire have no idea I do. I am in complete awe of their heroic, modest nature. This nature will be of great value to many. We should simply take the time to recognise it.

The nearly dead and the newly bred have more in common than those in the middle.

Some see life as a daily, somewhat arduous, task they’d rather have rid of. This is rock-bottom. To see life as a daily challenge is different. This is a double sided sword. But to face up to life with a smile and durable attitude is no doubt the best way, I have found, so far.

The competition never ends. Some people don’t realise that it’s only a constant contest if you play in to it: the prettiest, the best dressed, the best body...etc. Surely all this only exists in the mind that contemplates it. As superficial as it may seem, most of us are attracted to those who please the eye, what about those who don’t? It’s a harsh truth to grasp but there are those who walk through life alone. No one to hold them, care for them, or tell them their life means something.

Living in this day, this moment in time, this age, this country, I feel incredibly privileged. To have all that’s available and not to have to say thank you. I am so ridiculously lucky in so many respects. It almost makes the respects I am not so lucky in obsolete.

What you make of what you have available to you is your life. This has become ever so clear to me over the last few months. Don’t wait for life to happen to you. Make it happen for you.

A short philosophy of my life

I love that some people are so different and yet when it comes down to it they are so similar. In a lingering smile or a prolonged hug you know you’ve found someone who you can cherish.

Even in a fleeting moment the world seems so much clearer when you have someone who understands you listening to you; a friend sitting across from you, who has the ultimate comedic timing that makes you crack; the person who knows you at your most vulnerable but who is unaware, the friend who stood by you through your weakest hour. A friend who has the energy and kindness to stay up all night talking to you and the only reason they give is because they are your friend.

The question in my mind is, if we have friends like this, why do we intermittently doubt our own self-worth? I suppose one response could be that we are all striving to be better. But I guess another is that some of us are simply apprehensive about how committed our friends are to us. After all, everyone has their insecurities and hang-ups naturally; I think the thing that matters is how much we let these affect us.

To go through life scared must be detrimental; detrimental not only to you but your social life. To go through a whole lifetime believing that you’re second best must be awful. I presume that everyone’s had moments of despair; if it is to do with a loss of a love, loss of a parent, loss of self respect or just loss of hope. Some find comfort in religion. Personally I have a problem in believing in anything beyond the realms of intellectual thought. Maybe that makes me closed minded, maybe not.

I am still human. The thing that makes me irate is that some people would argue that being disabled makes you a faulty being. Of course, technically they are right, but is it reasonable to make that judgement? There are those few that would argue that people with Down’s syndrome are mutant beings because their cells have a slightly mistuned genetic make-up. Is this fair?

Some people assume that a physical disability only affects you physically. The naivety of some people baffles me. Yes, of course a physical disability will affect you physically. This has knock-on effects on emotionality naturally; the impact on social life as well as sex, love and thoughtless bullying. The amount of times I, personally, have been emotionally crushed by an utterance or a look of disgust is countless. I know it is a cliché but I truly believe that it all makes you stronger. I won’t lie, if a vulnerable mood takes hold and I hear a brutal passing comment, it still can momentarily defeat me and I crumble.

What is worse is that some people assume that physical disability implies you are retarded. The patronising talkers who think they are doing you a favour.

By sex I mean the whole idea of sex. The idea of sex is daunting for any erotically charged teenager. The idea of sex for an, even, partially disabled erotically charged teenager is terrifying. Luckily I got through teenage-hood with only light humiliation. Love, now love is a different matter. Love, I feel is a personal thing, disabled or not. All of us are vulnerable to the dire straits love can put you in. No one should look past the world of people with unseen difficulties; be it depression, schizophrenia or dyslexia. These can be utterly debilitating and half the time the struggle is mute.

I can only hope to try to be accepting to everyone, to take each person as a representative of only themselves and to take everyone in to my stride, albeit slightly shaky at times.

Creature of Resilience

Open up. Come in. The circus is over.
Shivering,
What has changed?

No words leave the crimson, swollen lips of solidarity,
The lips of imminent regret,
The lips of raw resentment,
The lips of ominous despair,
The lips of repetition,
The lips of momentary satisfaction. Value or validation?

Is her body her instrument of splendour?
Desperate for gentle caresses,
In need of tenderness,
Desperate to be thought of in memories. Any memory would do,
Longing to be more than solely the object of lust,
But a stranger to love.

The eyes, the porthole on the emptiness that is her soul,
With a question that pervades. Why?

Time is her betrayer,
Drugs, her lethal poison,
Love, her remote hope.

She wills her morbid fate

Memoirs from Florianopolis #4

I know I may not have everything but I’ve realised that I have it pretty sweet. I also know that the future doesn’t scare me anymore; it can be whatever I want it to be. I may not have a love in my life thus far but as I said before the first step is to love yourself and I’m getting there.

Standing in the ocean, just the waves and I, it felt right for this time of my life. Smiling at the sea…preserving every moment while practicing the elusive art of samba beneath starlight.

Under the cover of darkness, I took all my clothes off and truly not caring who was looking or who thought I was crazy. I sauntered into the sea. I just thought, 'To hell with it. How many times am I going to be on Brazilian sands with its warm winter waters among the stars?'

My skin grazing past each grain of sand as I stepped out of the water, I was becoming ever more aware of the breeze that cooled each droplet on my body and the salty air, harsh on my face.

Gazing at the reflection of the stars on the water, I reflect on my time here: The people I’ve met, the friends I’ve made; the music I’ve feebly attempted to make although I’ve had great joy doing it; percussion lessons truly paying off- realising that bus engines and car sirens are lyrically rhythmical.

So, it is a wonderfully different place. It has left an imprint on my spirit and I’m truly thankful- I say farewell Floripa!

The power of friendship

We clicked the moment we met. Your sense of humour had me from the first utterance I witnessed from your lips. There are those people in life who you do not see for a year or so and then after one second together you’re right back where you were when you left. You are one of those people.

I would rather be in blissful silence alone with you than be in a room filled with people. For life is just, simply, a series of rooms and it is those you get stuck with in that room with you who can influence you most. I wouldn't mind if someone locked the door of that room we were in - hell - they could throw away the key if it meant living life close to you.

With your laugh so cheeky, your gentle closeness and ever so comforting nature, excitement bubbles when you are near. For that feeling alone I am perpetually indebted.

Love, Your friend.

Memoirs from Florianopolis #3

The energy that children possess is truly magical. There is nothing like watching the face of a child on realisation of an answer. The amazement you can bring to the eyes of a child, with a couple of marracas, is incredible.

To be greeted with a cuddle and a smile is just lovely. The children and some adults here are genuinely really affectionate and to be truly honest, I love it. The love between the children is clear too; they often hug and kiss. This is one element of the culture here I wish was transferable to our culture. I very much loathe the distant nature of friendship in London.

The power of a smile is often underestimated. It’s an amazing asset in a foreign county where the absence of communication can leave you dumfounded. Communication is a vital component of life. The absence of just one sense sets you back in life. I’ve had personal experience of this having a speech defect myself. It can be so frustrating not to be able to say what you want to say, especially when you are putting all your heart and soul into it and there is no reward and you feel the people you are talking to just can’t be bothered and are wanting to get away. Soul crushing.

Helping a blind boy understand the concept of colour is near impossible. It is heart-rending to think that he will never be able to see sun set over the sea or experience the sight of a beautiful woman. Tears built up in my eyes as I looked into his sightless eyes. To experience this boy’s aggravation brought light to the fact that each sense plays an essential role. The joy it brought when he shook a maraca made me so happy. I wonder where he will be in a few years. Florianopolis is far from accessible to disabled people, with uneven roads and traffic with, it seems, no speed limit. The disabled people who live here must have an enormous daily struggle. However, the friendly atmosphere would help very much.

Fortunately my disability has not prevented me from enjoying the cultural delight of samba dancing. Although, as of yet, far from an expert, it is immensely fun.

Memoirs from Florianopolis #2

A bus ride, a walk and a world away from the hustle and bustle of the street lay a paradise where the purities of nature play in a surreal harmony. Beautiful beaches surround this island. When I first felt that sensation of sand between my toes, so soft, I realised how lucky I was to experience nature this way- to exchange energy with the earth. I sat on this white carpet, beneath cloudless, blue skies and watched the few children that there were, playing in the sand.

The happiness on the children’s faces radiated on to my own. I could hear no other noise apart from distant laughter and the wave’s gentle caress of the shore. Smiling to myself, alone, for what seemed like only one brief moment with only happy thoughts flowing through my mind.

Drinking what can only be described as poignant cocktails, feeling almost instantly that drunken sensation- the nice one, I mean- loving not having a care in the world and for once- not needing one.Tudo bem- all is truly well. I dazedly stood and ambled the two feet to the sea. My feet became immersed in cool seawater, watching as my toes sank into the sand. Tipsy from the cocktails- I had to be extra cautious of each step I made.

The rapid hands of time, when in blissful contentment, are my worthy opponent and they of course triumphed, like they always have-and always will. Soon I was back to the realms of existence- brought to by the unnecessary clamour of a motorbike going by- kindled from my lethargic composure.

In the early hours of the next morning, as the sun was rising, I woke to start, what would turn out to be, an epic journey to visit a friend. Introducing me to her Buddhist way of life, she enchanted me with her blissful and almost transcendent energy- telling me how the simplest thing can be beautiful and that the beauty that surrounds us daily we take for granted. The necessities of life are all you need to be truly happy. It is not the love of another we should thrive for in life but the love of yourself- that is what is truly important. The significance of simply being- many look past, when this is what we should focus on. The essence of happiness itself lies in this one simple truth. We should not envy but look on as others succeed- be content when others pass us on this endless path to the unnecessary riches of wealth and lust. To think that peace can be in our every step. Every calm breath we take can remind us that we each have a place in this world, each of us continuously exchanging energy and peacefulness with the surrounding beings.

The simple life, although on the surface appears uncomplicated, looking at the depths of it gives me the impression, from the western perspective- anyway, as much more intricately complex. As pondering these thoughts, I drifted into a sweet sleep in the porch side hammock while the world and his dog went by- a dreamless sleep.

Memoirs from Florianopolis #1

Butterflies took over as I boarded the plane, evoking those feelings from that first day at school. Although I have travelled on my own before it is seldom that a trip has the potential to alter my full perspective on life- granted it is not as yet developed much. The time began to drain away and soon the plane was over Sao Paulo. The obvious segregation from the air saddened me. The vividly painted shanty towns stood miles out from the guarded towers of the rich. It becomes ever so clear that such segregation is a harsh truth of life in Brazil.

The world behind the corrugated iron which I have been advised to avoid must surely be subject to the depths of humanity. I do not have to use much imagination in wondering why; a world of crime and drugs but also suffering. Smiles too, no doubt. There is some sort of poetic irony in that it can take having nothing to truly appreciate everything. But this is purely speculation.

Life in Florianopolis is different to say the least. To ride a bus is to have a death wish, as I have just witnessed. Staying only minutes away from the desperately poor but somehow so far. To have clean running water and electricity is considered to only the apartments and houses rich enough. Although, to shower is a bolt from the blue as it is much like ice but sure as hell wakes you up.

Being so far away from England I’ve realised how foreign I am to the Brazilians. Living among people with only a few English words between them, a conversation which would usually only be two minutes takes roughly ten. I have yet to become acquainted with the true culture, though, many of the Brazilians I have met thus far greet with sunny smiles.

I am surrounded by effortlessly beautiful people׃ dark hair, light eyes and olive skin. Voluptuous and sculpted figures strut past, somewhat reminiscent of pages in Vogue; stunning.

Thus far Florianopolis appears to be a dark, wonderful world away from suburbian London, I am oh so used to.

Harmony and bliss at their most righteous.

Unlike any other capital city I have known, Berlin has an unruffled, un-bustled atmosphere that can be attributed to two influential variables: the small population size and of course the vast quantities of ‘grass’ consumed.

The Berlin life I witnessed was almost alien but somewhat refreshing. The pulsations of Berlin were to a different beat than those of London, the dance ever so much more sensual. I have found through extensive research that you can find in many cities a place that never sleeps, unless in a drug-induced state. A world of drugs lies in this place. Not daring to try the intense substances but was ever so tempted, I was drawn in by the scent of sweat-drenched bodies and the sweet smell of summer. Cigarette smoke circled around me like a melody and yet so far away from home but strangely eluding me to feel more at home than I had ever felt.

The echo of laughter hanging on the gentle breeze as it passed through the hazy blissful sunshine. The techno music pounding in my ears, I became submerged in the sounds. Gazing at my reflection in the still lake waters and watching as my toe distorted the images as it became slowly immersed in the tepid wetness.

To think that it is possible for our lifestyles to co-exist baffles me nevertheless I loved the different people and attitudes of this foreign country. This makes me ever more aware of the growing nature of Londoners attitude of survival of fittest, where an underground station becomes a battle field while each journey is a slow dissection of your soul, where if you smile you are considered crazy, god-forbidden laughing. Berlin is so dissimilar to the cold-blooded nature of London.

The German language, although once considered somewhat harsh and abrupt, it now pleases my ears. It is no longer associated in my head with dictatorship but now friendship.

The inevitable explosive nature of our western culture.

There are those in life who think they are superior. These people appear so wrapped up in their worlds that they fail to see they too can be wrong sometimes, like everyone else. By everyone else, I am including myself, naturally. Being far from perfect I realise how boring and mutinous it would be I was.

The quest for perfection is a slice of life. Through numerous images thrust in our faces we are reminded that we are not perfect. These images play on human folk like they should play on the consciences of the people that displayed and portrayed this ever tiresome task.

Marketing techniques are evilly engineered to assault the demographics of society at their most fragile and mouldable spots. This is a tragic result of the 24/7 life style we all, in the western culture, play into. If only we could see past the shallowness of our declining culture and look to the necessities of life. We are no longer truly aware of the passions of life; they are clouded by an ever increasing desire to impress the unimpressed. Desperate for approval we often lose sight of what is real.

We could be inspired by those who actually made a difference in this world, a little drop in the ocean. It is important to not let life go by without a whiff of humanity. I don’t pretend to have done myself but I hope someday to stop and try. Yes, arduous task it may appear to be...but if we are truly concerned about the poignant penetration of the western curse we simply must.

The impact of the media on the young is tragic. We walk amongst 10 year olds smothered in make-up who have skipped huge chucks of their childhood, only to be encouraged to do so. Originating in the Barbie doll, we are now plagued by the ever increasing lust towards perfection. These impossible dimensions are what will eventually make the western world crash and burn- leaving our children in the rubble of this collapsed culture.

The First Chapter

Living in this sweet suburban bubble I realised the need for exploration outside the comforts of life that somehow cannot be escaped. There is nothing sweeter than receiving the old school mixed tape from a guy you dig or seeing the face of that guy when you give one.

The life I’m talking about involves the sweet and the bitter. As a wise man once said: "life ain’t so sweet without the bitter". A life: plagued with alcohol; sex and drugs; non-conventional sex such as threesomes or masturbation. Whilst, sitting in recliners listening to some perpetual dribble smoking weed while the guy next to me snorts his forth line of coke; I even consider for, a moment, taking a hit myself. But reminding myself that I’m better than that, not knowing how I got into this particular position. My head fills with fuzz and I giggle to myself as everyone around me is oblivious.

I eventually convince myself I can walk and then I go and fall down right ban centre in the middle of a pile of shit a horse was kind enough to leave in the road. Coming crashing down gives me a reality check. I feel momentarily jealous of the friend I witnessed having drunken sex; then I reminded myself that I have had my fair share of that and it’s not all really that great.

Considering crying myself to sleep, I curl up into a ball; thinking life is not all that bad in the scheme of things. Whilst, drawing inspiration from songs of love and hurt and movies with the same connotations. The envy I feel of the perfection of the L.A. Hollywood lifestyle which is probably just some distorted mask of a truly fucked up life which somehow makes me more envious. Drinking vast quantities of wine, to make these thoughts of perfection become a blur; directly regretting it.

This is the life I’m talking about.

Listening to jazz, whilst wondering why the friends I’ve chosen do not get the same, tingly, feeling when their ears are plagued with this task. Completely questioning my friendships for a split second but then realise that, yes, sometimes they are a bit damn shitty but recognising and appreciating that they held my hand through thick and thin. People say that it is great to question things but I often wonder if my life has been filled with endless questions and no definitive answers. I suppose that is what my philosophy of life is based on: No definitive answers; in all fairness no one has all the boxes ticked.

Wondering what life would be like if things had been different and shocking myself with drastic thoughts. Stroked and bereaved and working hard, often obliviously to those around me. I feel incredibly lucky not to be worse off. Still praying to nothing, because I don’t believe in an omnipotent being that makes life dandy, not to throw anymore shit my way.