This Is The Day Your Life Changes

Do you love yourself? I mean like really. Really, really. When you think back on all the stages of your life, on all the people you've been, on all the eras you've lived, do you see someone who was good enough? Or, do you see everything you didn't have, at each place you found yourself in?

I one day realised that when I looked back at the segments of my life, at each person I was through the changing times, I didn't see someone who was good enough. Not at all. Instead, I saw all the things I should have had, but didn't.

It then dawned on me, that we base our "enoughness" on the circumstances we were born into, or given into; rather than, on who we are inside of those circumstances! We cannot control any of it; but we can control ourselves. Despite all that you deserved, which you didn't ever receive, who were you able to BE?

In the presence of poverty, who were you able to be? In the absence of affection, who were you able to be? In the presence of hostility, who did you become? In the absence of safety, who did you become? Because that's who you need to look at and that's who you need to love. That's who is enough! That person is good enough!

Despite life, who were you? And who are you? We cannot, and we shall not, spend our days apologising for all the provisions that we did not receive; instead, we should and we shall, fixate on the value of our pure lives existing as a soul on a planet spinning around a star. If we were but that alone: souls spinning around stars; without expectations, without ideals, without standards and without norms; would we be good enough? Would we love ourselves? Because that's what it's actually all about.

My biggest regret, is that, it took me my entire life thus far, to come into the knowledge that loving myself, actually loving myself, was always supposed to be the greatest love of my life. 

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On Living A Deeply Feminine Life

It has always been expensive to feel feminine. Ever since we were little it has always cost money to feel feminine. The richer your parents were, the more feminine you were afforded to feel. They could buy you the miniskirts, the pretty shoes, all the dolls, the purses. And if you were poor all you had were sneakers and Ninja Turtle action figures. Even today, it's money you need for getting your hair done, your nails done, or for buying those outfits, shoes and lipgloss.

We need a reformation of what it means to be feminine! Our understanding and experience of the feminine must not rely on money. Feminine energy must come from your core, your soul, regardless of your circumstances. We need the eyes to look at women as feminine; notwithstanding the hair, the makeup, the shoes, clothing and jewellery. What is feminine? It is inner resolve, it is self-possession, it is intelligence, wisdom, compassion, calmness, softness and courage.

Femininity is a collection of the pieces that help you on your journey as a woman and that collection looks different for everyone. There's nothing wrong with any of the tools you add to your collection; your collection is unique and distinct, as you are. There are feminine substances that do not ever rely on money, that every woman has access to, wherever she may find herself in life.

All women should know, that femininity is not found at the mall, in the department store, in catalogues or in the lack of problems and bills to pay. Femininity is found in how you have crafted your own story with the hands of love, to see yourself with eyes of love as who you have become, despite the odds and despite life. If you were to lose it all, you would still feel feminine, because your femininity would be the story carried inside you that only you can tell. 

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Bats and Roses

Creatures who lurk in the darkness are misunderstood. All are the creations of God. To choose which is better over the other, is to question the purpose of God's creations.

I loved you in the dark, I loved you not for the eyes of others, but only because, even though our space never saw the light of day, we planted flowers there, we planted trees there; they all grew!

You have seen me as lesser for belonging to the darkness while you stood in the limelight.

I was the bat, you were the bluebird.

One day you will see, that only the hands of grace can tend to roses in dark places where no eyes can witness.

One day you will see, that the heart which grows gardens with no sunlight, is the heart of grace.

I loved you in the cellars while you crowned another in the throne room.

One day, you will know grace, and on her you will see my face. 

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Liberty, SexAndTheCity, And Amishness

      All my life, I have been surrounded by the types of people who will still ask me things like, "What does your mother say to you when you wear sexy outfits?" And, no, I'm not talking about when I was 13; I'm talking about NOW, as a full grown woman, who has a twenty-year-old son. The people who ask such things are also full grown adults with their own kids.

     I know that definitely not all humans are like this, because, I am more exposed to those of the world who live in this actual world and not in some miniature version of smalltown reality set in the 1930s. But I'm saying that, for some God-dammed reason, I can't seem to shake these particular types of people from my life. They're my closest contacts because of the kind of background my parents are from. Conservative and afraid of the planet and everything in it.

     It's difficult for me to answer these types of questions without scoffing at the person asking, or reply in a condescending way, but I try my best to answer such ridiculous queries with respect and composure.
     "I'm a grown woman, a mum, and literally pay my own bills. Why would my mother have any say in any of the choices I make for my clothing, body, life, or otherwise?"
     I have a twenty-year-old son and his female peers won't even let their parents tell them where they can go, what they can wear, who they can date, etc., so it really does take a lot of patience from me to engage in such discussions with people who really are living under a rock. I'm sorry, but we do not occupy the same world.
     I don't even consider my wardrobe to be "sexy". Like, I literally don't even feel as though I need to be "brave" to wear anything that I own. I also don't consider my personal life to be that interesting at all. Definitely nothing like Sex and the City. God, I do wish my life was something more like Sex and the City! I really do! I really am just, for some reason, closely linked to really Amish-types of people.
I've spent a lot of time wondering why. Why do the people I know seem to stay the same way as the years go by, and basically just grow into the footsteps their parents set for them? How is it that I had to come from this type of stock? Why? Why? Why? So many people in this world are NOT like this, why can't I seem to escape the ones who use Facebook as a virtue-signaling pulpit? It gets very, very tiring. I cut my facebook friendlist down by more than 75% and still, I can't get away from the Bible verses and the bygone-era virtue signals.
     It scares me. It really does. Not to mention they are all ageing pretty badly and look 50 years older than me. It's a mindspace that I never want to ever touch. Let alone belong to. I am a woman of the world and I see absolutely nothing wrong with that! The only explanation I have, is that, perhaps it's this way so that I can always see how far away from the cages I really am! So I can see, sense, and taste the distance of my flight, to appreciate my freedom.
     I really do appreciate my freedom, my liberties, my world, to the full extent. And maybe some people just die the way they were born, but while this disturbs me, I also acknowledge that they have their own paths and I have mine. Just as I am free to be free, they are also free to be just like that. 

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900 Coca Cola Cans

When I meet a person, I don't see them as this one individual standing before me at this one point in time; rather, I see the person as a 3- year- old and a 30- year- old and in the future maybe a 100- year- old. I don't forget that he is an accumulation of elementary school memories in the cafeteria; favourite hiding places for hide-and-go-seek;  first heartbreaks and first loves; letters written by candlight; dreams; and about 900 coca cola cans.

I don't believe that time is linear. We are inhabiting one day at a time, or one moment at a time, simply because our consciousness is not developed enough to fully inhabit multiples. We're actually inside of it all, all at once, all the time. We're just too underdeveloped to exist in anything other than a present moment. 

When I meet a person, I feel a collection of all the events that ever took place in their lives from toddlerhood to the present moment. All the places, all the words, all the kisses and laughs, the chocolate milks on cold mornings. A person is the gathering point of all the energy, timekeeping and minutes, that ever were and ever will be, in their lives. 

And that's what you're talking to. You're speaking to favourite hiding places and recollections of best friends; and traumas, fears and vulnerabilities and monsters under a bunk bed. When you meet a person, you touch a world. 

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The Human Gig (And Have We Failed It?)

      The issue we have in our politics at hand, in our world today, is that citizens treat their politics as they would treat their favourite football teams, or best friends, or even lovers. This has made me question if we are in fact ready, as a global civilization, to even have our own politics. Maybe we should just be ruled by kings and queens again. Or Pharaohs. Perhaps that’s what we deserve. Because politics requires critical thinking, which is currently very apparently available in the minds of only a select few. To apply critical thinking to the situation at hand, letting go of previous attachments and persuasions well enough to understand what’s needed to be done in order to address it. It’s not a football team: win or lose, you’ve got your team’s back. Politics is not your team, ever. Politics is a tool and when critical thinking is applied to this tool in order to achieve beneficial outcomes, the benefits go to the people.

     I’m an independent voter, which means I can vote Republican or I can vote Democrat, depending on the current situation and what needs to be done with it. I voted Obama because I believed that it was time for that change, it was time to see a black president as the leader of the free world. Towards the end of his term, the developing and growing problem was a global terror threat which I believed he was failing at miserably. We needed someone who could put an end to the almost-daily reports of mass shootings and trucks ramming through families at Christmas villages. Right enough, the reign of terror ended almost overnight when Trump stepped into office. I voted Trump then. Now, towards the end of Trump’s term, we have a global pandemic on our hands and he is not only failing miserably at handling the catastrophe, but one could be forgiven for saying that he is actually fueling the catastrophe to extents the like we’ve never even seen before! He needs to go as soon as possible, because we need someone who can save American lives in the midst of a global pandemic. And because this is a GLOBAL pandemic, the whole world needs this; not just Americans. So now, I have voted Biden.

     The highest form of intelligence is ADAPTABILITY. Adaptability needs to be applied to politics because the lives of citizens of a nation are always at stake. Instead, what the majority of the population applies to their politics, is emotional passion and devotion the likes of what we see in religious circles and even cults. We must apply the highest form of intelligence and be able to change our politics based upon what is needed at the current time. Not based upon emotional hearsay.

     The most defining election in the history of the United States, has been this election of 2020. More people turned out to vote than in any other election in the history of the nation. And yet, of all the people in my family who normally vote Republican, they still voted Republican this year. Unable to adapt to the current events. Unfortunately, they do represent the usual face of voting mentality, which is the absence of adaptability and the overabundance of emotional passions.

     Emotional passions this year, though, are not just that. This year, passion and emotional hearsay have the power to sever ties between parent and child, aunt and nephew, brother and sister, best friends, cousins, so on and so forth. We are realizing, this year, that the people we have loved all our lives are people we don’t want to see anymore. This year, it is more than just difficult to not be passionate about the elections because too much is at stake. This year, your vote for your right to not wear a mask is equivalent to a vote for the death of someone I love. There is no getting around it. It’s not for ourselves anymore (well at least, from the Biden camp, it’s not for ourselves at all).

     I ultimately voted Biden when I spoke to my father on FB videochat and he told me that he was thinking about not wearing a mask anymore, because, “The president doesn’t even wear a mask.” It only took that split second for me to know whom I was voting for. To hell with everything else. If my one vote meant that I could help protect the life of the man I have loved the longest in my life, then that is exactly where my vote was going to go to!

     This year, we are seeing parts of people that we didn’t even know existed before, as well as learning about parts of ourselves that we weren’t well-acquainted with before. About myself, I have learned, that I would absolutely put my relationships with those whom I love at the forefront of my pertinently important decisions. I care. I love. And I care and love HARD. Nothing will come in the way of that, for me. But I’ve also been extremely disappointed in those very near to me; at their blatant disregard for the loss of human life in favour of what they view as their own liberties, which are, severely distorted, sensationalised and twisted (how is wearing a mask and staying at home akin to slavery?) I am also extremely disappointed in those who blatantly disregard compassion and kindness in favour of whateverthefuck their pastors in church say. I have seen religious zeal this year the likes of which I would be ready to compare to that of the middle ages during the Inquisitions, a time when Christians were the most godawful terrorists on the planet.

     It’s frightening, it is. It’s frightening to realise that human traits we thought have been left in the twelfth century, could so easily be reignited, today. It’s frightening to realise that maybe we really are just a coin’s toss away from burning women alive again, for burning villages to the ground for not converting to Christianity, again. I’m certainly very concerned.

     How are we ever going to truly reshape the faces of our nations, when most of the voters we have are intelligence deficient? Absolutely no capability to adapt, to think critically. When all decisions are made through religious opinions and emotional passions, should any of us even be voting at all? My thoughts wander as my insides grieve.

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Between Popcorn and Soda Breaks: A True American Tragedy

     They say the 2nd American civil war started cooking in May this year. I think it started cooking with Obama. If only for the reason that having Obama as president was so shockingly radical; that in itself created fault lines in the foundation of American civilization that were never going to be undone, anyway. Replacing Obama with Trump was an event that flung the American people from one extreme to its polar opposite extreme; an act which can cause mental instability from the small individual scale, to the large national scale.

     At this point, the rest of the world was heavily invested in US politics, thanks to Obama collecting so much international fanfare that people in Portugal, France and Australia felt like they had a say in American politics, too. People in Vietnam, South Africa and Cayman Islands felt like they needed to have a voice in American politics, too. For the first time, the American president (Obama) was the world's president! And when the Democrats lost to Trump, the world hated America, which has led to a considerable amount of pressure on American citizens. Being tossed into the heaviness of international scrutiny was sudden and was forced.

     Civil war has been inevitable since those points of no return. It's a sudden and violent collective shift in culture and sentience as a country, which is the root of the incredibly great divide that we see today. Meanwhile, the rest of the world does not truly CARE, but, like how we care about our favourite t.v. characters on Netflix, we continue to watch on with a bowl of popcorn and a bottle of soda. It's a tragedy, it really is.

     America, and the American people, should have never needed to shoulder the burden of a global audience demanding that their own wishes for US president be validated, that their own Obama fantasies be honoured. It is the American people now who suffer as a result. Not the Portuguese, not the Australians. Not the French. It is the American who suffers. Thanks to a president who shook the world just because of the colour of his skin. A paradigm-changing president who perhaps came along way too soon for the nation to handle. Or for the world to respect enough to simply appreciate and then honour enough to let alone.

     The United States of America is a baby nation. A small child nation. Hundreds of years younger than many other Western nations. And yet, when has Spain had a black president? When has Portugal had a black president? When have the French elected a black president? When have any of these older Western countries elected a black leader? And yet they cajoled and pushed the toddler to the frontlines, "You think you can do it? Go ahead and show us how it's done!" Something that they themselves were not ready to do.

     The United States has done, within a timeframe less than half the timeframe of many other Western countries, what those other nations have not dare done. Cajoled and challenged into biting off far more than she can chew, like an egotistical child, she bites the bait each time, and chokes on it.

     The truth is, no Western nation was ready for a black president and they all knew that. When America did what nobody else could, they turned the first black US president into their favourite mascot at the circus: they wanted to take pictures with him and host dinners for him. They wanted to make him theirs. But they wouldn't elect their own. That was not respect, that was not honour. That was sheer enjoyment. But it is only the American commoner who is left to clean up after the boxes and the candy wrappers are scattered all over the ground on the carnival floor.

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The "Influencer" Predicament

     I've been queried on my opinions of "influencers" by quite a few people and I think it's time to write my thoughts on the matter. I'll do my best to make this article as concise and effective as possible, in order to provoke intelligent discussion with potential to make a difference in people's minds.

     First up, I think it is an amazing paradigm shift: Once upon a time (a.k.a when I was a child and a teenager and basically for more of my adult life thus far), magazines were produced by snobbish companies and the people on the glossy papers were super special people whom you'd never be able to sit at a table with in real life. Magazines, and the people in them, belonged to the realm of desire and fantasy, and were unattainable. A handful of editors, photographers, talent managers, writers, designers and directors were the wizards who could easily make or break a person's celebrity career. But then the paradigm shift happened, and almost overnight (well that's what it felt like to me at least), anyone could put up their own online magazine featuring themselves, their homes, their clothes, their lives, etc. It's like someone waved a wand and took all the wizards' powers away! Gasp! One day I woke up and anyone could curate their own online magazine on Instagram and build themselves into celebrities. Instagram gave everyone the permission to be seen, heard, and celebrated. I think it's an excellent turn of events, I really do. I am an indie author, afterall, and while indie authors have existed for centuries (yes, really); I can still relate to the ability to create and curate on my own without the permission and judgment of giant publishing companies. So, it's all very liberating and empowering.

     There's a flipside to the coin, though, which cannot be left unsaid. On the flipside, it's a fact that anyone can pay for Instagram followers and even pay for follower engagement. Imagine an army that's fed and bred to defend you from haters and to hit "like" on every post you make. I personally know some people who paid for these "services" and garnered tens of thousands of followers overnight. The problem with this is simply that it's a sneaky way to outdo your competition. Not that being sneaky to outdo competition is anything new in the world, but, it's worth pointing out that it's a business just like all the other cutthroat business that goes on in the entertainment and fashion industries out there.

     Another worrying aspect is that the "influencer syndrome" is really just middle-school mean girl drama carried over into adult life and set on stage for all to see. Influencers forming their own "you can't sit with us" circles on Instagram, is, the most immature thing I possibly have ever seen in my entire life thus far. Not that it's new, because it's not, but it's worth pointing out that we shouldn't be influencing this type of mindset to continue on, especially in the age of feminism and women's empowerment. Because it's not empowering. 

     "Influencer syndrome" should also include the entitlement attitude of expecting to receive sponsored plane tickets, sponsored stays at resorts, sponsored clothing, etc. etc. ...it is an unrealistic personal opinion, which the influencer holds, one that simply presumes companies need them to attract more customers. They're not realizing that this makes them an uncontracted employee of the company, rather than a much needed celebrity presence.

     It's amazing how anyone can curate their own online glossy magazine now and amass a following without the help of respected insiders. People can build themselves into a celebrity, rather than wait for someone else to come along and declare them as one. They may now declare themselves so. A liberty that we once never even thought possible. However, I'm not so sure it actually solves anything inside of us: the longing to be famous, the desire to be adored, seen and heard: the sting is still there because even though you have five million followers, someone else has ten million followers. It never really evens out, does it? And so, I'm not sure it solves anything at the end of the day. Someone else will still be adored more, will be heard and seen more... the struggle hasn't ended.

     It must be said that I wholeheartedly disagree with the term "influencer", though. The actual influencers, in my mind, are those who play a pivotal part in how society is formed and the direction in which our communities and nations take. Those working behind-the-scenes in the industries of education, medicine, bioengineering, IT, astronomy, literature, film, journalism, organizational leadership: those are the INFLUENCERS. And I don't think I even need to explain why. 

     I really think that the word "influencer" is too potent to apply to women on Instagram curating little kingdoms for themselves. I would rather they be called, "indie models". I think that would be a thousand times more appropriate, more applicable of a description for them and for what they do. They're indie models, not "influencers."

     I hope that you've enjoyed reading my thoughts on a very present-day state of being, which infiltrates our lives daily on social media. Feel free to share and to discuss. And ask me questions if you have any. As always, I hope this helps. Take care there, I hope that you are healthy and well.

     

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Float Like A Butterfly Sting Like A Bee

     I am one of the most widespread, frequently quoted people on our planet (and thank YOU🙏); my words having become life mantras to so many people (thank YOU, again🙏). But who wrote my life mantra? Has anyone ever stopped to ask that? Was there anyone else who wrote something that's become my go-to line in my own life? Nobody's asked me that before.

     My own mantra is simple and short: "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee." These are the words of Muhammad Ali, born Cassius Clay (MA is what became his new name when he later in life converted to Islam). Say that again, "Float like a 🦋 sting like a 🐝".

     Cassius Clay was born into the whole system of black segregation and slavery, thus he denounced his "slave's name" and took on the title he's now world renown for.

     To me, these words are a super simple fallback during any situation in life I may find myself in. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee: reminds me to go through life lightly but to make impacts that are felt. You don't have to tread down hard in order to be impactful in this world. You just need to be impactful. That really is all. You don't have to walk on this planet treading hard in order to be felt. You just need to make yourself felt, and that really is all. Power and gentleness. Sharpness and softness. Sting but float.🦋🐝 And now you know!!

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Let The Dominos Fall

     So, like I mentioned in an earlier post, the ostracism I've felt in my life has come from Asians (I am Eurasian). It's either "You are too white to be one of us", "You are too white to have any proper morals", or, "You don't look white at all what kind of a white person are you?", "That other Eurasian girl looks whiter than you, you just look Asian, what's wrong with you?", "Why isn't your nose like white people on t.v.?"

     And it goes back to before I was even born. Before I was even born and my mother was still pregnant with me, she used to pray every day that God would give me "dark hair and dark eyes" so I wouldn't look "too white". She has told me the story so many times.

     Asian racism is raw, brutal, and they just say it to your face like there's nothing wrong with it. Although I do excuse my mother, since she probably just didn't want to feel too different-looking from her daughter, the story she's told me hurts every time, bless her heart, she has no idea.         Asian racism is harsh and I've never not gone without it. Like, quarantine has relieved me of having to deal with it every fucking day. But then I still deal with it in quarantine neighbourhood group chats. I recently just gave someone a very long lecture in our neighbourhood group chat. A really LONG lecture. So as you can see, even in quarantine, based on a Viber profile photo, I still deal with the backwardness of what is Asian racism.

     The problem with Asian racism is that people get away with it because the focus of the problem of racism is constantly geared towards white people. I just wanted to discuss this a bit because I mentioned it in my earlier post. I sincerely hope that what's happening now takes a domino effect upon other forms of racism, as well. There are serious racist issues happening every day in China, for example, where they treat Tibetans like property. Nobody's trying to seriously liberate Tibet, for example.

     But anyway, this is not to detract from the current focus, AT ALL. 🧐 This is only to bring to light something I brought up earlier.

     I sincerely anticipate, and hope for, the dominos to keep on falling over. 🙏

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