I Want My Feminist MTV

 

When I was young I loved watching music video shows on TV. In Australia we had “Countdown” and “Trax” which would showcase live acts as well as music videos from the latest artists. I loved watching all the grainy music videos from the likes of Midnight Oil, Australian Crawl and Kylie Minogue. I would wake up early on the weekends to catch the final top ten on “Video Hits” and if I was feeling particularly cheeky I’d sneak into the living room and watch the late night risque music videos on “Rage” with the volume turned way down low. I guess you could say I’ve had a long running obsession with the world of music and its accompanying visual spectacle. MTV wasn’t so huge in Australia but we knew what it meant and what it represented – Music TeleVision for the Cool Kids of America. Countdown was good, but MTV was American…so it had to be amazing right?

In the 90s MTV was edgy, investigative, bold and subversive. Since then it seems to have been eaten up by “The Corpocracy” and has since become a bloated, self indulgent beast that claims to represent the Cool Kids of today. Instead it is feeding us lies and sensational shock value tidbits that leave one feeling less than satisifed and have little to nothing to do with edgy, bold new music coming out of the US.

Take the VMAs that were held recently. Yes, I couldn’t help but have an indulgent look at it (from a purely journalistic P.O.V. you understand) as I wanted to see what message it was sending to the Kids of today. What I gleaned from it all is this: The 2014 VMAs may as well as featured a mud wrestling match between the female singers that were there that night. Seriously, from what I saw it was a question of “who was the biggest bestest female” game show. Didn’t see much coming from the XY camp really. It was all about the girls. But it didn’t exactly feel like a sisterhood. More like a battle of “whose got the best legs in the house? Never mind the music, here’s your booty call” I couldn’t help but cringe when Beyonce just happens to round off the night standing before a neon lighted sign saying “FEMINIST” and then be awarded the Vanguard trophy by none other than her MTV Kingpin husband – toting their daughter for the “awww” factor. OK. Now I know who pays the MTV executives salaries. Excuse me but do I detect a little convenient image branding? Real feminists don’t need to advertise themselves as such or prove to anyone their alignment with the movement. Honestly it would’ve made more of an impact if Jay Z had come out and said “I’m a feminist!”

Phew! You may think I’m just jealous, but think about this. What if, in some other dimension, Lilith and Eve (you know, the two women in the Garden of Eden, the former being Adam’s first “rebellious” wife and the latter his “underling”) just turned around and said “screw you God and Adam, we’re Sisters and we’re NOT sorry for eating the forbidden apple!” Fast forward a couple of millenia later and perhaps we wouldn’t see so many women in the public eye being pitted against each other for the indiscriminate pleasure of the male eye. In this case, where grandiose drama wins out over actual musical integrity, MTV could adopt a less perverted stance and remember what it’s REALLY about, and that is THE MUSIC. Perhaps then Beyonce’s claim to being “Feminist” wouldn’t seem so trite? If she really wanted to make a political statement in her music, one that’s visual, she wouldn’t mind going out there on stage sans makeup and sporting some incredible armpit hair. If she’s a real musician it SHOULDN’T matter what she looks like right? THAT would satisfy me, and it would allay my fears that MTV doesn’t have the proverbial noose around musical integrity. I would certainly stay up late to watch that!

From the Heart

 

Don’t ever blame anyone else for your lack of doing. This is your space and your time. Use it as you see fit. Do not concern yourself with others’ opinions of you. Be kind. You have no idea what struggles the other person is experiencing. Be present. The Future is writing itself and the Past is a whisper in the wind. 

A heart is a muscle. It is malleable, bloody and sinewy. It beats deliberately and with every beat your life continues. Until it stops, it will compel you to live deliberately.

A “broken” heart is a misnomer. It would denote that the heart as something fragile, delicate, kept for special occasions like fine bone china. Bones may break. They are hardy yet fragile. Hearts on the otherhand may be bruised, wrenched, battered and squeezed but they do not break. That is the fallacy that keeps us from diving into pain, fully experiencing Life. The death of a loved one, the grief of a loved one leaving – a divorce, a separation, a move or a change. These things will tear at the heart and leave its host in agony. 

But hearts do not break. They are hardy but not fragile.

Hearts sustain us for decades. They are the HQ of the body, the battery that charges our passion to be the best we can be and to experience the spectrum of emotion that comes with having one of these marvellous contraptions.

As Tinman in “The Wizard of Oz” said: “It is not how much you love, but how much you are loved by others” that counts. The Heart counts. It has counted every beat since the beginning, just like the waves have beat against the shores since the beginning. 

It is hopeful, it is determined. It is irrascible, and stubborn. It is belligerent and benevolent. It can leap and languish but it cannot ever, ever be broken.

Muscles just need a good workout every now and then.

Let’s Blame China

 

A Black Hole in the Middle Kingdom of Earth sucking us all into a maelstrom of smog, bodies, priceless junk and history.

The River Yangtze damned by Three Gorges, gorging on the lifeblood of the land, for now everyone must pay. The villagers are silenced for no one can argue with the Powers That Be.

And now they manufacture to the world. The Mighty Creatrix, chugging and groaning, industrially revolving, providing our empty souls with ever more items, MORE MORE MORE!

And the hunger is insatiable, wanting what is “theirs by right” for they know how to bully those weaker than they. For we taught them how. 

The Cultural Revolution continues its revolting perambulation and our lungs are filling with lies, choking on the gag that binds us and forces our eyes down. Our cries go unheard, into that Void, that Black Abyss.

China, greatest civilsation on the planet, oldest and most steadfast. We are your children, your slaves, you our Benevolent Tyrant. So far.

But where is the Empire? Where is the Art? Where is the Buddha? Where is your Heart?

As another lonely child cries out upon its birth, its parents wonder of its future, better a boy than a girl…

The Dragon has had a bad century. It’s choking on its own fire and fumes. But where is the Dragon’s Head? Where is its True Power? Stuck in the sands of the Gobi Desert? Crapping uncontrollably, sick in heart and soul, we try to placate its misery but the wound is deep and unresolved.

China, great land of invention and insight. Return to us and help us see, the wisdom of the Tao, the wisdom to make us all Free.

This despicable game of chess has the Queen in constant Peril. Our Mother, Our MA. 

MADE IN CHINA. MADE IN CHINA. MADE IN CHINA.

We buy, therefore we are. We made you what you are. No one is innocent, no finger pointed in blame, all we can do is encourage True Growth and remove blindfolds, gags and chains.

The Summer of Jill (Part Two)

The day after our big gig at Crawfish The Jills joined in at the summer solstice edition of the monthly DRUNK POETS event at my husband’s Bar Gari Gari.

At the end of 2012 I petitioned two friends of poetic prowess to assist in co-hosting said event.  Alabama native multi-instrumental “Jack of all trades” singer and songwriter legend Samm Bennett and expounding Bostonian published laureate Frank “The Flood” Spignese, got on board and together we put the call out for all to join the spouting of verse and soliloquy.

The Jills took it in their stride and added some wonderful femaleness to the night. We sang and trilled, we dropped puns and picked them up, we stole hearts and gave them back – intact and brighter than before.

The next morning we packed our bags and headed to the mountains. It was time for the Jill-grimage! We arrived into Minakami, Gunma Prefecture later Saturday afternoon and prepared for our gig there that night at Canyons, an outdoor adventure centre.

We put on a great show, albeit with a few rough patches, but ultimately the love was there and we got those asses up and dancing by the end of the show.

Sunday morning we joined the canyoning tour of nearby Fox Falls. I had done this course a few years earlier and it was totally refreshing and empowering!  A natural watercourse zigzags through the mountains and there are waterfalls and swirling chasms to boot. It’s not for the feint-hearted! We had some awesome guides to assist us through the tougher parts of the course such as the 20m waterfall “drop” and the “washing machine”. We leapt off a crazy high ledge into the swirling river below and got thoroughly waterlogged. Exhilarating stuff.

After returning to Canyons we ate lunch and prepared to leave for the next leg of our adventure. Onto Yamagata Prefecture to meet with the Three Mountains of Destiny…

Check out the action here! THE JILLS:  JAPAN JILL-GRIMAGE Part 1 (Youtube video)

The Summer of JILL (Part One)

Outside the rain is falling on a cool September evening, washing away what was the summer of 2013. What a season! So much growth, mirth, music and mountaineering, mentoring, poetry and artistry. Let’s see if I can break it down…

June heralded the First Coming of JILL.

My bestie from Melbourne, Dandelion Jackson, came up to Tokyo with her scandalously fun mate Hilda Green. Before they arrived we plotted and schemed and decided to put our collective musical prowess together and form a band in order to gig around Tokyo. Dandy and Hilda came up with the name THE JILLS – as in, “Jills of all-trades” as each of us writes songs and plays several different instruments, so it was a naturally good fit.

We hustled to rehearse our songs and arrange harmonies and who was playing what. We ventured into the Tokyo parklands and sang to the trees and the various people in our midst.We travelled to my beach house in Chigasaki and rehearsed in the living room and down at the beach where the golden sun broke through the clouds after the rain and we were blessed with a double rainbow as we splashed in the waves singing Dandy’s acapella offering “The Birthday Song” Here are the lyrics:

I am evolving as the planet is revolving
I am evolving as the planet is revolving
And I am trying to unravel mystery
Yes I am trying to unravel mystery
And I’m sorry I’m sorry
That I didn’t get it right the first time
I didn’t get it right the first time
I am trying I’m still trying
And there are so many things I would change if I could just keep the lessons I learned
And there are so many things I would change if I could just keep the lessons I learned
I’m still trying I’m still trying
And the lines on my face grow deeper as the elements erode my skin
And I am only starting to get used to the perpetual motion
The Perpetual Motion
I think I’m starting to enjoy it
I’m growing

Because I have a dream!
JUST FUCKING DO IT!

Our first gig was at the Ruby Room Open Mic in Shibuya. We took the stage for three songs and it went down extremely well considering how little practice time we’d had! Our next gig was at Crawfish in Akasaka alongside my other band Sorcha and The Sinners and our friends Melted and The Presters. This one was the drawcard, the gig that ruined several pairs of underwear 😉  We started the night with The Birthday Song as it was a powerful call to claim life in all its crisis and glory. We essentially channeled the essence of Jill and She visited upon us her majesty and beauty. Power of Three!!! We were charged and ecstatic and felt as though we were undertaking Her Work. We Jill-ified our names to Sorcha “J” Resse, Dandelion Jackson-Jill and Jillda Green. Our Jill-grimage had just begun…

Sympathy for the Bully

This is the “Soul Shrinker” (from “The Faerie Oracle” by Brian Froud). He is a fairy that grows uglier and uglier the more we humans tease, ridicule, gossip and torment each other. He used to be beautiful but listening to and witnessing all of this human ugliness has affected his appearance much like that of an polluted pool causing a beautiful frog to develop skin lesions and hideous growths. 

In recent years we’ve seen a lot of discussion surrounding the phenomena of bullying in schools with the focus for the most part being on the victim and their suffering, and in serious cases, self destruction or suicide. 

I’d like to shine a light on the role of the perpetrator for a moment. While I do not condone bullying, I understand its precept as I, once was a bully in school, and to this day I still need to keep myself in check. 

One could argue that today’s victim will become tomorrow’s bully – in some cases this is true. For want of a better example look at how the Jews were victimised during Hitler’s holocaust, yet now since the claiming of Israel as a nation state they continue to terrorise the Palestinians away from the land that they had occupied for generations. I may get a bunch of hate mail for stating this opinion, but to be honest I think we humans need to go to these unchartered places in order to really see what we’re made of. And the picture aint so pretty most of the time. With any luck we can break the cycle of cruelty and malice before it can repeat itself. This is crucial. 

I’m not a psychologist but I am an observer of human behaviour. I attempt to be my own case study at the best of times. Being objective is one of the hardest things to do, especially when a negative situation arises in one’s life.

Take this last weekend. It was my birthday. I was jubilant and felt loved by all around me. Lots of Facebook messages, phone calls from my family and best friend in Australia and generally a sense of well being and self confidence.

I was away working this weekend and my team mate who is normally a very happy go lucky character, always joking around, ends up spewing his dissatisfaction with my performance after the show. I was shocked and taken aback and frankly very upset. I didn’t understand why he just morphed into this bully all of a sudden. My idyll was smashed and I immediately felt victimised and angry at him. I retaliated with pointing out his faults but they fell flat and ultimately what was really only a petty problem blew up into a full on resentment. I was bewildered and sad and was trying to figure out what the real root of the problem was.

Truth is, he held up a mirror to me and what I saw wasn’t pleasant. Perhaps it was my karma for being complicit in laughing at his “harmless jokes” that were in fact ridiculing the weaknesses of others. I let him influence me – he would also often make little digs at my character and I usually let them slide or even laughed at them myself. After all who wants to take themself too seriously? So in seeing his dark side. I essentially had brought out this creature in him that was in me too.

By ridiculing others, we essentially are cursing them. This negative energy lingers around the one who starts the joke and infects others who also “find it funny”. I found out the hard way that even though I wasn’t overtly ridiculing others, I wasn’t exactly trying to stop it, maybe because I didn’t want to be seen as “taking myself so seriously”. I believe this is how things like racism, homophobia, sexism, ageism are condoned by society because they are regarded as “humor”. Laughing at others misfortunes has been part of human nature since day dot but when it is left to spread unchecked it can turn into uglier things like bullying, prejudice, slavery and in extreme cases, genocide. 

To stand up to injustice takes courage and delicacy. Usually the “bully” in question is the insecure one who needs more compassion than the victim. I have struggled with this myself and truly regret the terrible things I did as a child to a girl who was initially my best friend. Jealousy was the poisonous seed that planted itself in my heart and I felt the monster stir inside me. I ridiculed her in public and turned other people against her. All the while I was thinking myself to be the shit, and in fact, I was, but not in a positive way. I was only nine or ten at the time but I failed to recognise how I was creating this “cursing” energy. It came back around a few years later when I became ostracised by my peers and cast out. It felt terrible and I remember how much shame I felt. 

So to this day I try to refrain from things like complaining, gossip, ridicule and slander, though I notice I am susceptible to indulge others in these things. To stand up and say “Stop talking like this. It’s negative and I don’t appreciate it” is tough because it may be the individual against the mob. But to stay silent and complicit is just as bad, if not worse. Look at how successful Hitler was with infecting the German people’s minds. 

I must stop brooding over all the things I wanted to say to my team mate in retaliation. The hostility I felt was palpable. How dare he rain on my parade? Feeling self righteous and indignant will not help me here.  I have to be compassionate and refuse to be pulled into his base humor from now on. The Soul Shrinker is pleading with me to “clean up my pool” so that he may be able to heal and recover from his afflictions. 

 

 

Welcome to the Mask-erade

Last Sunday I attended a “trance mask workshop” with Jun Imai, mask-maker and improv director here in Tokyo.

I didn’t know what was going to expect but my friend Huw had invited me along and had attended Jun’s workshop before, saying it was something pretty special. Naturally I was intrigued.

It was raining cats and dogs in Tokyo on the day of the workshop and it was as though winter didn’t want to release its grip on the city. When I woke up I looked outside and thought ‘this better be worth it’

I met up with Huw at the meeting place along with several other Western men (I was the only woman present) and Jun of course, who seemed to be very friendly and approachable. I knew a few of the people there but a lot of them not so well. That was about to change.

At the workshop space Jun led us through some basic get-to-know-you name throwing games to warm us up. We also did a few voice warm ups too as we were told things were going to get vocal…

Jun had two tables at the front of the room set up and we were seated opposite in a half circle of chairs. One one table were a variety of toy cars, children’s books, stuffed animals and other random kiddy-friendly bright and colorful paraphernalia. On the other table were thirty or so masks. I decided not to look at the masks until the time was appropriate.

Then Jun invited each of us up to select a mask and put it on. The lower half of the mask was cut away so one’s mouth could still move and vocalise easily, and the eyes were cut away so when Jun held up the mirror to us we could see the creature that had emerged before us. He then instructed each of us to emote with sound. Words were unnecessary and irrelevant. This was the Id we were getting in touch with. The primal “inner child” self that society does not readily acknowledge.

Each mask had been painstakingly crafted from clay and reinforced with Japanese washi paper among other things. Each mask had a personality. Some were angry, some sad or worried, some playful and happy, some were indeterminable until the masketeer (!) was able to embody a character.

I have to admit it was rather intimidating to do this a) in front of people I didn’t really know and b) being suddenly self-conscious of looking stupid, ugly or undesirable and c) as the only woman I felt a little overwhelmed by all the testoterone in the room and also the masks themselves appeared mostly “male” upon first glance. Usually I’m pretty comfortable performing in front of total strangers, but only when I know the script, music or song lyrics that is! This was very foreign territory!

The first time round I tried on three masks. The first was dark brown colored and “angry”. The second was red and more playful and the third was beige and quite neutral. Jun held the mirror up to me and commanded me to make a noise and keep making it. I felt like a fool but then something happened, a part of my brain that felt like it had been sleeping for a long time started to stir. The reptile brain maybe? Any psychologists know what part of the brain this kind of activity would stimulate? Please let me know!

Jun held up the hand mirror to my face every few moments to reinforce my connection with the character of the mask. The emotion would surge again until Jun reassured me with an “OK OK OK…” thus deciding we’d gone far enough.

Everyone got up and did individual interactions with Jun at first to become familiar with the mask and with Jun as the facilitator between the worlds of “mask-world” and “real-world”. It was kind of strange and exhilarating at how wearing the mask somehow felt like being possessed. Some people became extremely agitated or rambunctious depending on how well they were able to keep their analytical brains out of it. Nothing was positive or negative, everything was in the moment, time and normal identity was irrelevant.

The toys were useful in that they sparked the creature’s curiousity, anger or resentment, or proclivities to longing or sharing. After each interaction Jun asked us how we felt. I remember saying “I think I’m losing my sh~~”. haha!  By the second round I felt a lot more comfortable in losing my sh~~ and the other people in the room somehow ceased to exist… that is, unless they had a mask on.

Just before breaking for lunch a few of us experimented interacting with others while wearing masks. The interplay was incredible. I chose the one mask that seemed to have a more Asian-feminine look about it and it was like it just took over. I became a wily, unruffled mysterious creature that was not at all peturbed by another crazed angry creature screaming at me as though it wanted to kill me or another creature that was moaning in fear and scared silly of me.

We pursued this drama for about five minutes until Jun gave the “OK OK” vocal signal. Upon taking off the masks we all were amazed at the transformation and a little bit shocked by our responses to each other. We broke for lunch and afterwards returned to this interplay between characters. It was a bit harder to get back into character as we’d taken quite a lengthy break and had eaten well. Now there was a lethargy that we needed to bust through in order to really access the energy we had built up beforehand.

Soon enough chaos reigned again and for the rest of the day we formed groups of three to four people and proceeded to interact with the toys and each other. Things almost got out of hand when one character went belly surfing on the toys table and fell off it, all the while still laughing maniacally! My interaction with another character was like we were both siblings and interested in showing each other things. Other interactions were jealous, or parental, or hostile. Jun explained that if the masks looked similar they were more likely to be compatible. Discussing the interaction at the end of each “act” was very revealing as to the nature of the human psyche.

Jun explained how he had worked with very famous people in the past and how they in particular had found it very difficult to detach from the public image they had created for themselves. Ultimately the session is supposed to be therapeutic, and he told us how some people were booking to see him and the masks on a weekly or monthly basis! It doesn’t really surprise me. Tokyo is a city of immense pressures from society: the workplace, the media, the education system, the nuclear family dynamic and so on. The masks enable the individual to throw off their “real” face and assume one they never thought they could have.

Since the workshop I have felt my soul grow that little bit more. April has been a crazy month of extreme personal challenges and the meeting of these characters within me has definitely helped me realise my deepest darkest fears and bring them out – to play.

Adventures through the SoCal glass

Recollecting the past week like flowers that have scattered on the floor and need to be put into a vase and admired on the altar of my memories.

Monday night we flew out of Tokyo and arrived on Monday afternoon into LAX. Commence Twilight Zone time space continuum weirdness. “We” was myself, my girl Kelly, Andrew, his flatmate Adair and Keisuke. Beers in the airport while the other passengers are waiting in line to board. Back in the nosebleed section of the plane and feeling a bit green but fortunately no serious mishaps. Arrive into LAX and my cowgirl boots are twitching with excitement but my feet just want to get into some hot spunky sandals. Finally some warm weather!

My friend Diana comes to pick me up from the airport and we hang out at her place for the next few days in Redondo Beach. Cable and Chinese takeout. America. Fuk yeh. I take her roadster bicycle out for a spin and get a much needed pummeling at the Thai massage place down the road. Then its on to Manhattan Beach and some communing with the ocean. Tickling the starfish in the aquarium. People watching. Hearing that Gotye song on the radio at least twice in the same hour. Smiling that a fellow Melburnian has made it to the top. Food glorious food. Top shop cupcakes from Sprinkles. Lady in Red Velvet. Listening to Dirty Hair on the beach and remembering the last time I was here.

That night Diana and I meet up with Dalynna and go for dinner at Ihop. Crazy pancakes for dinner. Carb heaven. Tempting a coronary. Chatting and laughs. Diana drives me to Culver City where I meet Leila at the Open Mic session there at Industry Jazz Cafe. People taking the stage and their words become flesh in my ears. Fears and struggles. Keep on climbing. Leila’s poem is all about the moment. Now. No wait for it… its Now….. and again it’s Now.

Attempt to get some crowd participation with my acapella song Make it or Fake it. Be a survivor or be a victim. Poetry to soothe a tortured soul. Lots of poets in pain. Its a catharsis after all but Leila and I want to talk and we keep getting dirty looks so we make a break for it back to Manhattan Beach to talk about our dreams.

Sitting on the lifesaver lookout with a beercan in a paper bag and watching the sea crashing onto the pier. So many projects on the go. How to complete them all? All at once or at different times? The Art of Creativity and when and how long to engage in it. Prince is colouring my ipod and his song springs to mind:

Money don’t matter tonight. Sure didn’t matter yesterday. That’s when you realise you’re better off making sure your soul’s alright. We drive back to Diana’s and make plans to get together the following night.

Wednesday. Sleep in til noon! Take my leftover pancakes and a cup of tea into Diana’s beautiful Moroccan style courtyard.

Soak up the SoCal sun until my feet start getting itchy to move on. Bright red poppy has just bloomed.

Am also now in possession of some spunky gypsy sandals too. Pack up my stuff and catch the bus into Venice Beach. Yes. Public transport in LA is absolutely Mission Possible.I was very impressed actually with the ease of it. Don’t believe the hype.

Get to Santa Monica Pier and fantasise I’m in that saucy TV show “Californication.” Hank Moody in his black Porsche drives by… I call my friend Seth who lives nearby and he and his lovely lady Ashley come to pick me up.We make an instant connection. Then its off to the Venice Beach Strip for Jody Perrone’s hot dogs with mole´ sauce and wetake it down to the shoreline. Talking about spirit guides. She picks mine straight off. We venture back to their place for some beers. There we meet the landlord Bernard and he brings out some potions he’d concocted. Apothecary oils. Potent and grounding I’m anointed and blessed. It is the Spring Equinox and the moon is at first quarter. Ashley gives me an angel card reading and they speak to me of great things. They said I should ask them to help me more. I don’t need to think I’m on my own. Sure enough they were listening throughout my trip, even when it was for little requests like help from the “car parking fairy” – in fact she was very busy helping us! Unlike Tokyo, cars are inherent to the culture in California. Love being able to sing to the radio at the top of your lungs in them.

Seth and Ashley then drive me to where I’m meeting up with Diana, Dalynna and Leilaat a Mexican place that my FB friend recommended. It was a bit of a messy sitch as the place was too small to hold us all and there across the road was the “Gratitude Cafe” which Ashley was just swooning over. The decision was then made for us to get a table at the cafe in question. Cue a request to the “table fairy”. After a little wait we got a great spot and proceeded to have a wonderful evening sharing our stories, playing charades, toasting to what we care about and celebrating the Equinox. The food was super healthy and had names like “I AM ELATED” or “I AM JOY” the sangria was “I AM VIVID”… which indeed it was!

That night Leila drives us back to her place in North Hollywood where we and we continue our existential conversation in her courtyard. The next morning I force myself to wake up at 7am despite not sleeping until 3am. We go to her local yoga studio for some serious body and mind stretching. It was exactly what my over-stimulated body needs and I feel positively high afterwards! We cook up a yummy omelette for breakfast and then she takes me over to LACMA for the Stanley Kubrick exhibition.

Kubrick. Meistermind. I have seen “Clockwork Orange”, “A Space Odyssey”, “Dr Strangelove” and “Eyes Wide Shut” and have such a respect and fascination for his work. Tomi had suggested I go and see it. I was glad for the tip! It covered every movie he’d done and had the real props from several movies. The creepiest thing was seeing the dresses the twins from “The Shining” wore and noticing though one dress had been cleaned, “bloodstains” could still be seen, albeit faded. Nuts. Also amazing was how many lenses he used. Such different perspectives. The director’s gaze. There were two that were particularly interesting. The huge bulbous eye lens he used for HAL in “Space Odyssey” – the Nikor 8mm fisheye, and the Zeiss he used for “Barry Lyndon” the one purportedly loaned from NASA. One might question how he managed to procure such an expensive and rare lens. I’ll let you the reader do your own conspiracy theory research 😉

I then take the most excellent public transport to Union Station where I board the train to San Diego. A pleasant ride along the coast. White wine and chatting with a older couple about their son and the band in which he plays vibes. Get to San Diego and take a taxi to Ocean Beach to the hostel there. Check in and meet some lovely girls from Austria who I’m sharing a room with. I love me a gypsy life. Screw hotels. Decide to go hunting for some food and venture out. Find myself outside a smoke shop which had just closed but there’s a cool dude hanging outside the front waiting for his friend inside to close up. He introduces himself as Ryan and we hit it off. His friend Tiffany then joins us and we discover we’ve all been to Maui so we wind up chatting away like old friends. We head to the beach. It’s colder than the LA beaches I went to, wilder. Mexico and the mysterious South Americas lie beyond. At the beach there are hobos and a cajon drummer and a guy with a didgeridoo. Tiffany and Ryan and I hang out for a time and then end up heading back to chill at Tiffany’s house. She lives with six girls in a great big beautiful house with a tree in the backyard covered in fairy lights. We share our stories into the wee small hours, and before we know it dawn has arrived.

Morning tea in the backyard with the fruit trees and the airplanes tearing up the sky as they fly into the airport scarily low to the ground.Later in the day Tiffany goes to work and we say goodbye. We give each other a hug and I give her my CD. Its a bittersweet parting but I feel like we have recognised each other as soul sisters. Ryan and I then go for a walk along the main drag and into a cool, subversive book shop called “Black”. Could’ve spent hours in there. We then get an Italian soda and head to the beach where its a warm afternoon.

Walking under the pier and around the cliffs. Then we walk back to the car and see a whole bunch of cool sidewalk stencils. Mayan symbols. Chakra mandalas. graffiti on the path saying “you are beautiful”. Hippies and freaks and kids fighting in the streets. Tough turf.

San Diego is THE Border Town. It carries an energy unlike any I’ve felt before. There’s a desperation to be free and to be a community, and yet there’s an overshadowing feeling of restriction and control. Ryan and I drive to the cliffs as the sun begins to set. We climb down to the beach and on the side of the cliffs, in amongst all the seaweed and the swarms of flies there are these discolourations in the rocks. They feel like portals. Not necessarily good ones. But there, at the ridge there is a small enclave that feels like a place of power. We recognise it in a different light. For this place is where North and South meet. People seeking the “American Dream” and freedom. Truth is, “Americans” aren’t exclusively from the US. The entire continent carries within it the “American Dream”… Ryan tells me to watch for the green flash as the sun disappears below the horizon. To my eyes it looks like a pyramid. Ryan drives me to my hotel in the city and we say our goodbyes. Another bitterweet parting. Like somebody I used to know…

Collecting myself for the next installment of my adventure I walk into a place called “Dick’s Last Resort”. There’s a very cool band playing some gritty rock covers on stage. Punters are wearing crazy paper hats with crude allusions on them. There are screwed up balls of paper on the floor. Feels like a mad saloon. Or a demented kindergarten for overgrown children. My glamorpuss Stacy’s bachelorette party.We dance and drink margeritas and dally with the bitchy waitresses. Stacy gets up to sing “Hit Me with your Best Shot” with the band and I get up there with her to help with the lyrics and fire up her rockbitch. So fun. Later we head to another bar/dance house that’s playing some pretty gritty hip hop R&B. Its not really my cup of tea but somehow I can’t help but get into it. Takes me back to my younger, sluttier days haha. We go back to the hotel where we meet up with the guys and Andy, our fellow roomie and friend from Tokyo who has since relocated to the US. Madness ensues in the hotel room, pillow fights and more beats and beers.

The next day Andrew, Kelly and I head to the Zoo to meet the animals. The haze lifted and the sun came out and some of the animals were indeed getting “in the mood” The giraffes were particularly frisky and I also noticed the rattlesnakes having a cuddle in the noonday sun. I thought the elephants needed to have music they could program themselves on a huge iPod. We sang to the hippopotamus and the lion and the zebra all the kids songs we know from our job at World Family. The tiger wasn’t in the mood to see visitors but we met a man who was a big fan and he showed us some of the photos he’d taken. What a gorgeous beast. Amazing day.

Later that day we go to Old Town for some Mexican food at the Coyote Cafe. Needless to say it was incredible. We went for a stroll around and looked in on the shops selling Mexican day of the dead skulls and what-not and just enjoyed the scenery.

That night we shmooze with Stacy and Colin’s friends and family and cuddle their gorgeous boy Chase who is about 8 months old. It’s a great bunch of people and sure enough some of us decide to go out for a final night on the town. We end up going back to the same bar as the previous night to get down with the grinding bodies on the dancefloor. Fun.

The next day was the big day. The reason we all came! Stacy and Colin’s wedding.

The day broke clear and fine and it was as though the angels were smiling on all of us. I had my new blue dress to wear and I was feeling great despite polishing off three margeritas the night before. Leila and Mishaal rocked up after having driven all the way from LA and we proceed to make ourselves look shmick. All six of us, Kelly, Andy, Mishaal, Andrew and myself then pile into Leila’s volkswagon and head off to Balboa Park where the wedding is to be held at the Japanese Friendship Garden.

The wedding is outdoors and we all gather to witness the ceremony that is overseen by Stacy’s stepfather Quin, who is also a minister. It’s a beautiful ceremony with Stacy singing to Colin at one point and their son Chase is baptised too. Everyone is elated and there’s a palpable joy all around. Stacy put so much effort into the aesthetics of the day too. The Japanese theme was evident, with her bridesmaids wearing gorgeous bright orange kimono obi as stoles and her flower girls done up in full kimonos with makeup and parasols. Afterwards the guests move over to another courtyard where there is a large barrel of sake waiting. Cue my role as MC to introduce the ritual of “kagamibiraki” or the breaking of the sake barrel for good luck. Stacy and Colin break it open with a mallet and then everyone is given an ochoko or square wooden cup to drink from with a pinch of salt on the side for good luck. Once everyone had been served we all toast with a resounding “KAMPAI” and drink to the new couple.

Dinner is then served and the Tokyo table is in full swing. We are most certainly the rowdiest! The night’s celebrations consisted of dancing and karaoke and kinky dressup photos. I got to catchup with my dear ex-Tokyo friend Kai and her husband and baby girl Seara too which was great. So many paths converged for this occasion and it felt wonderful to be in the midst of it all.

Alas all good things come to an end but not before giving the bride and groom our love and stealing as many half empty bottles of wine from the bar! We drive to the beach out by the Coronado hotel where Marilyn Monroe filmed “Some Like it Hot”. The moon was filling up to full and we, the volkswagon crew, frolicked upto our shins in the surf which was freezing but exhilarating.

We somehow get back to the hotel room and the shenanigans continue until the wee small hours… that is, until we all pass out from utter exhaustion!

The next day is departure day and with some sadness, but mostly happiness, Kelly, Andy, Andrew and myself pack up and drive back to LA. We drop Andy off somewhere in the suburbs – he did live to tell the tale – then we check in at LAX, have one more burrito at the airport and then we’re off.  The trip home was long but the captain made the most perfect takeoff and landing I’ve ever felt. Back in Tokyo the cherry blossoms are shivering in the cold and the jet lag is looming, but what an amazing adventure!

Malala the Maiden Messiah

 

This is Malala Yousufzai. Last year on October 9 she was riding the bus back to her home in Northwest Pakistan when it was stopped by Taliban fighters. She was then singled out by the armed group and shot in the head. The group stated that they had targeted her for promoting “Western thinking”, ie: education for girls in the area where she lived.

Malala miraculously survived the attack and was taken to Queen Elizabeth hospital in Birmingham, England where doctors worked to reconstruct her skull.

Just the other day she made her first live appearance since the shooting and while the left side of her face is rigid she spoke eloquently and with firm resolve as to how she intends to continue her campaign to educate children, especially girls. The Guardian has a video here.

I have so much respect and admiration for this brave young woman. She has resurrected from death, much like another historical figure who was crucified for his outspoken views on humanity. When he came back from the dead a whole religion rose in his wake. What does that say about Malala? Here she is, a young girl who only wants a chance to awaken to her full potential and to assist others in doing so too, when along comes a mob of fear-driven ignorant fools who only see her as a threat to their delusion of power. 

Why is the Girl, the Maiden, seen as such a threat by so many cultures throughout the world? Because therein lies her Power. Even in our own Western culture to act like “a girl” is somehow an insult, a stab at one’s self esteem or feelings of capability. 

Incidentally February 2nd on the Witches/Gaelic calendar in the Northern Hemisphere is Imbolc, the festival of the Maiden, and the goddess Brigid is honored at this time to bring about blessings for the coming warmer weather. 

So this Saturday just passed, four of my closest female friends and I gathered at my local park and performed a ritual for Imbolc. It has been a tradition for the past six years and while the persons involved have come and gone, it is something I feel very attuned to and it is very empowering as to how to approach the unfolding year.

I cast the circle and called the Quarters and we burned incense on a hot charcoal. The incense was especially blended for the occasion, containing red sandalwood for wishes, juniper berries for luck, frankincense for protection, lavender for self love and cedar for expansion. Then a white candle was given to everyone (Imbolc was renamed “Candlemas” by the Christians and it is associated with the lighting of candles to keep the storms of winter away).  White is also the colour of purity, potential and virginity; that is, virginity as autonomy, much like what Malala represents: a young girl who is taking charge of her own life and does not capitulate to a patriarchal paradigm of what a girl “should” be and do with her life.

We anointed the candles with cedar oil, passed them through the smoke of the incense and then lit them while saying a prayer including our Word of Power for the year. The Word of Power then enters the candle and every time we light it throughout the year we are reminded of our wish. A light to guide us on our way. 

My Word of Power this year is NURTURE. Like Malala I wish to nurture my mind, body and spirit and inspire others to do likewise. Why not try it yourself? What is your Word of Power for this year? How is the Maiden a force of strength in your life? 

 

 

 

 

The seed of doubt

As I was sitting down to meditate this morning I had a flash of insight as to one of my biggest personal challenges: believing in myself. The amount of times I second-guess myself or have insipid dialogues inside myself trying to justify a situation that basically comes down to two choices: fear or love. It’s a seductive mode of self-sabotage and I’m SO over it. That worm of dissent is exactly that – a WORM. Worms are great when they’re in there decomposing compost and other extraneous stuff but as far as my dreams are concerned that is when they are not welcome. 

This month has been a roller coaster ride and it’s still only January. I enrolled in the school of Quantum Training but have fallen back due to illness. Catching up on my “homework” is now of some importance as the examinations for such training are never announced.  I moved into a new apartment near the beach and have been blessed by the generosity of my friend and neighbour who has helped me furnish the little place with some basics until I can acquire my own. We went for a run/bicycle ride along the shore and it was just wonderful to stretch my eyes and breathe in the salty air. I’m going to enjoy living there.

So the seed of doubt enters my brain and I am rendered dumb and floundering in the face of CHOICE. It’s easier to capitulate and continue on oblivious to one’s own bad habits and Pavlovian tendencies. It’s harder to say NO: I want something better. I’m WORTH something better. 

The young boy in “The Neverending Story” had the power all along to change the story that was taking him along on a great adventure but he never believed he was capable of doing such great things until there was only a speck of that possibility left in the palm of the childlike Empress. The “Nothing” threatens each and every one of us. If we don’t choose to make our story an adventure we will return to oblivion never knowing that we had the chance to be something great. 

Of course it’s natural to doubt and stumble and that’s part of the story too. Sometimes mistakes are necessary. Perhaps they are a part of the QT? I was forced to make a choice this morning and for the most part all I was hearing in my brain were excuses and doubts, fears and hesitations. Then I got to thinking, what are my motives for this? What am I really afraid of? Love? How stupid. Why was I drawn to this person/situation in the first place? I was initially drawn to their philosophy, their music and their enthusiasm for life. 

So I’ve taken the active role as opposed to the passive. The seeds of doubt grow like weeds and the only way is to pull them out as soon as that whiny voice starts up in the brain. 

Plant seeds of stardust instead.