FCT #16: songs

I've been a vewy vewy naughty girl. I just can't help it. After all, what is a life without music? Especially a life in cold, composed Canberra?

I've had a bit of a binge on new stuff over the last month or two or three...

--Bill Callahan, Apocalypse

--Bon Iver, Bon Iver

--The Grates, Secret Rituals

--Kitty, Daisy and Lewis, Smoking In Heaven

--The Middle East, I Want That You Are Always Happy

--Mogwai, Hardcore Will Never Die But You Will

--Seeker Lover Keeper, Seeker Lover Keeper

All highly recommended! Get yourself some songs, brothers and sisters!

FCT #16: songs

Sometimes, and in complete contrast to shopping, what's not good for me can be good for me. Indulging in sad songs, for instance.

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Be Here Now

don't let your mind get weary and confused

your will be still, don't try

don't let your heart get heavy, child

inside you there's a strength that lies

don't let your soul get lonely, child

it's only time, it will go by

don't look for love in faces, places

it's in you, that's where you'll find kindness

be here now, here now

be here now, here now

don't lose your faith in me

and I will try not to lose faith in you

don't put your trust in walls

'cause walls will only crush you when they fall

be here now, here now

be here now, here now

Ray LaMontagne

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FCT #15: art + dreams + purple tights

One of the weekend's brekky conversations revolved around street art - its proliferation in Melbs and its illiteration in the Berra. (Yes, I know that's not the right word, but wouldn't it be nice if it was!) When held up against the street art mecca that is Melby-town, the Berra is clearly lacking. So it was a lovely surprise to stumble across a brand spanking new paste-up on my walk home today. Technical difficulties are preventing me from posting a picture of it -- now remedied, see above and below -- so let me paint you a word-picture: a huge image of Mr T's head, next to a huge send-up of the 'keep calm' poster that we're all sick to death of. I've actually got to the point where I'm sick to death of the send-ups, but this one is pretty good. Keep calm and quit yo' jibba-jabba. 

Anyone aware of my previous blog will be aware of my fondness for Mr T. In fact, let's refer quickly to the Mr T novelty eraser taking pride of place in front of me as I type...

I took Mr T's words as a sign on my walk home. His message is clear. But there are days when all you have is jibba-jabba and that's just what you have to roll with. Today is a jibba-jabba-ing flibbity-jibbit of a day. Emotions are up, down, round and round, here, there, everywhere. The internal jibba-jabba is ceaseless.

In response to this emotional rollercoaster I went shopping. What would Mr T say? Fool! 

Yes, ditching work early to go shopping was foolish on many levels. Hang on. You decided that rather than earn money you would spend money you don't have? Hang on. You decided that rather than soothing your soul with a long walk through autumn leaves you'd spend time checking out cellulite under fluorescent lights. Hang on. You decided that shopping in a funk encourages wise purchasing? Huh? 

For some utterly inexplicable reason, shopping sometimes becomes attractive when I'm feeling low. In the same way that watching the shittiest rom-com I can possibly find becomes attractive. Or drowning myself in a tub of Peanut Butter Disaster ice-cream becomes attractive. What's with that? None of those things make me feel good in the light. Why are they going to make me feel good in the dark? Am I so indoctrinated in consumer culture that my fall-back position is a handful of cliches?

To be fair, there were a couple of other factors at play:

1. I need more winter clothes.

2. Last night I dreamed I was walking through a sweepingly grand garden with my old boss. We were looking for flowers to pick and as I pointed Stephanie would say "Peonies? Oh no no no. We need something simple." It continued with every flower I chose. "Ranunculus? Oh no no no.", "Delphiniums?", "Gladioli?", "Lisianthus?", "Oh no no no." It was like my brain was trawling its database for flower names and not coming up with the right record. Dodgy search terms or sumthin.

Eventually we came to the end of the garden - sans flowers - and walked into a large, wood-panelled hall. There was a huge wardrobe at the end of it. Stephanie motioned towards it and said "Go on. It's yours." As I opened it I realised that the wardrobe was mine, and that it was filled with the most amazing array of outfits I had ever seen. Each one a delight to behold. Each one a coat of many colours. Each one a squillion times more enticing than anything I actually own. I pawed through the contents in a frenzy of excitement, pulling out beautiful garments one after another, examining all the things I could clothe myself in. Then suddenly the choices overwhelmed me. In a split-second I flipped from excitement to overwhelm. And then the dream ended.

When I woke up I was still feeling overwhelmed, but I was also thinking about buying purple tights.

Now if that's not jibba-jabba, I don't know what is.

FCT #12: being open

Using my imagination and my new eyes of perception, 
I see myself living a new life, a new dream, 
a life where I don't need to justify my existence
and where I am free to be who I really am.

I imagine that I have permission to be happy and to enjoy my life. 
My life is free of conflict with myself and with others.

I imagine living my life without fear of expressing my dreams. 
I know what I want and what I don't want. 
I am free to change my life the way I want to. 
I am not afraid to ask for what I need, to say yes or no to anything or anyone.

I imagine living my life without the fear of being judged by others. 
I no longer rule my life according to what others may think of me. 
I am no longer responsible for anyone's opinion. 
I have no need to control anyone, and no one controls me.

I imagine living my life without judging others. 
I can easily forgive others and let go of any judgments that I have. 
I don't have the need to be right and I don't need to make anyone else wrong. 
I respect myself and everyone else, and others respect me in return.

I imagine living without fear of loving and being loved. 
I imagine living without fear of not being loved. 
I am no longer afraid to be rejected, and I don't have the need to be accepted. 
I can say "I love you" with no shame or justification. 
I can walk in the world with my heart completely open 
and not be afraid to be hurt.

I imagine living without being afraid to take a risk and explore life. 
I am not afraid to lose anything. 
I am not afraid to be alive in the world, 
and I am not afraid to die.

I imagine that I love myself just the way I am. 
I love my body just the way it is, 
and I love my emotions just the way they are. 
I know that I am perfect just as I am.

FCT #8: the prickly bits

Sometimes life is like a big hairy chestnut.

Okay. So it's not the best analogy in the world but I'm using what's around me to talk about what's inside me.

Somewhere within this big hairy life of mine is a sweet - and nutty - centre. (Not unlike my own centre.) I'm trying to remember that as I deal with some big hairy stuff this week. Don't get me wrong. My stuff is actually small in the great scheme of things. I (always, always) acknowledge how lucky I am to be angsting only about the occasional failure or question mark or black mood, rather than famine or flood or disease. But the small things still hurt. And this week I've been hurting.

I fell for the wrong guy and got rejected in a raw, painful, capital letters, R-E-J-E-C-T-E-D kinda way. It's been a while and I forgot how much that shit hurts. I know how it hurts to fight for it and not be able to save it. I know how it hurts to lose it. I know how it hurts to screw it up. But to have it right there in front of me, to see and taste and feel it, and then have it pulled out from under me. Yep. That shit hurts.

These moments make it tempting to give up on love. To say no way, too hard. But I refuse. I'm gonna keep on feeling it, keep on chasing it, remain open to it. And I invite y'all to do the same. Don't let rejection or cynicism or cowardice defeat you.

Oh, and do something sweet with those big hairy chestnuts...

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Lulu's chocolate & hazelnut torte

4 eggs, separated
½ cup castor sugar
½ teaspoon vanilla
1 tablespoon brandy
280g can chestnut spread or puree
½ cup self-raising flour
1 cup cream
90g dark chocolate
1 cup cream, extra
60g chocolate, extra

Beat egg yolks, sugar and vanilla together until thick and creamy. Add brandy and ½ cup chestnut spread (reserving remaining for filling). Lightly fold in sifted flour and mix thoroughly. Beat egg whites until soft peaks form and gently fold into cake mixture.

Spread cake mixture evenly into two prepared 8-inch round sandwich pans. Bake in a moderate oven, 20-25 minutes.

Melt 90g chocolate, cool slightly, then spread evenly on flat side of each cake. Whip 1 cup cream and fold in remaining chestnut spread, then spread on flat side of 1 of the cakes. Sandwich together.

Refrigerate cake until cooled, then serve with remaining whipped cream and grated chocolate. 
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