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Rachel

~ following the white rabbit…

Rachel

Tag Archives: love

Beyond Melancholy Hill

17 Thursday Dec 2020

Posted by Rachel in Life update, Uncategorized

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

all we have is now, BE HERE NOW!, Burnout, corona vaccine, Cosmic ordering, depression, gratitude, love, love what you have, make do and mend, marriage, melancholy hill, mental health, mindfulness, Narrowboat, narrowboat life, second hand, the present moment, values, Vegan, Voluntary simplicity, want what you need, Work, writing

On repeat every day

This morning John got up before me and fed the cats and lit the fire and made me a cup of tea, having first gone outside into the engine room to get another box of cat food,* and to the store bin outside to get kindling whilst I dozed in bed. As well as our new-to-us sofa- which even reclines!- we have at last bought a comfortable mattress, having been using a futon mattress ever since we moved onto the boat. After a year of the mattresses of low-budget accommodation of India and Southeast Asia it actually felt comfortable but over recent weeks it has become unbearable. This one is a Silentnight with integral topper, firm yet comfortable, and only slightly hangs off the edge- its 4’ a small double but too thick to fit under the lip in the wall like the futon did, bought from Gumtree for £50, second hand but apparently new. John says this might give him a few more good years!

I got up and we wrote out Christmas cards- just a few to elderly relatives and the kids- and walked to the village shop to post them. John filled up the water while I washed the dishes using the ‘emergency’ five litre bottle we keep in the kitchen. Then he went to work for a late shift- 2pm-10pm- and I did the washing in the twin tub and lit the fire, and settled down to write this. My plan for the rest of the afternoon/evening is to eat Marmite on toast, watch Ashes to Ashes (Season 2-3), eat stollen, perhaps cook something,** and watch more Ashes to Ashes.

I’ve been working hard on reaching an accommodation and acceptance of my current circumstances- I know this is ridiculous, since I live a life that so many people would dream of, but it’s part of my makeup to be striving, pushing; pushing against my natural state of melancholy. Looking to the future and the next big thing, or hoping that one day it will all work out. I’ll get a publishing deal, come into money when all along my life is as it is and I’m missing the moment. Being so focussed on creativity can be just another way to push away the present moment rather than accepting it and then hopefully enjoying its richness. Also from a practical point of view I get a lot of RSI so it’s really good for me to have a typing break when I can.

So I guess this is a kind of gratitude list: my husband John, my anchor and my guide.

There’s so much to be grateful for in terms of us sharing the same outlook that I forget that so many people can’t even find (as they are so rare) a vegan boyfriend or husband. I wouldn’t dream of being with someone who wasn’t vegan, and bearing in mind we only know about three vegans I’d probably be lonely. Above all, I am consistently accepted for and as myself, with absolutely no expectation or pressure to be anything but, even though I’m always changing.

John and The boat & The cats= Home and the perfect home and lifestyle for me

My job/financial circumstances. I qualified as an occupational therapist in 2000, naturally rising up to become Head Occupational Therapist at a secure service from October 2010- February 2018. That job was so involved and me being me that by the end I was pretty burned out. We went travelling March 2018- March 2019. March 2019-July 2019 back in the UK and in a state of shock and finding it hard to imagine ever working again. July 2019 we both started working as Bank (meaning you can pick and choose when to work) Health Care Workers. December 2019 I stopped, feeling the work was too physically demanding. I went to India December 2019- February 2020.

On return I took a deep breath and signed up to an agency to get Occupational Therapy work, which involved making an introductory video interview and going for mandatory training. A job would have probably involved full time work and up to an hour’s commute each way. The night before the training I said out loud, ‘I don’t want to do it, somebody please save me!’ An email from the occupational therapist at the place where I’d done the healthcare job came through saying there’s a three day a week occupational therapy job if you are interested. Although it’s a bit out of my comfort zone as it’s not the clinical area that I’m really confident in, it is fifteen minutes up the road, the people are all really nice, and working at a lower level and only three days means I have enough time and energy to try and build an alternative career- ghostwriting and editing via Upwork and of course editing and pitching my own book.

Agency work, either full time or at a higher level, or both, is still an option, and might be a good idea at some point- we could be here in the UK earning as much money as possible for six months, and in Italy/India/Phnom Penh for the other six months. But for now, whilst we 1. Can’t go anywhere and 2. I want to try and build an alternative career, this is ideal. If I did a job like I did before, with a commute, all my energy would be taken with that. Plus I am a real homebody, and rather lazy, and enjoy nothing more than sleeping in and hanging about on the boat with the cats and the swans.

I’m getting the Corona vaccine tomorrow – as a worker in a care home I am in the first batch, everyone at my work got a link sent to us through which we can book in at the local hospital. So that’s our fun activity for our date day- Fridays are the day John and I always have off together. In January we’re getting eyetests! (not been done since just before we went travelling- I still have my reading glasses and their bright pink/orange case which went everywhere and never got lost, its catch long broken but held closed with a hair elastic…) And I’ve got a £25 M&S voucher from work as a Christmas present as well so I could also go and spend that on yummy Christmas food. Or perhaps a dressing gown. I’m not being sarcastic when I say that truly, my cup runneth over.***

Modest/tentative plans for next year

Focus on eBay and selling the India stuff we bought in Pushkar- a narrowboat really isn’t big enough for a business involving stock!

Go to the Tracey Emin/Edvard Munch exhibition in London and hopefully see my friend Molly at the same time!

Go to Italy to check out property- still thinking about it

Go off for a week on the boat- we have people’s dream holiday beneath our feet yet don’t really use it

Phnom Penh, Cambodia and/or India, are still hoped for for winter ‘21-‘22 but of course who knows?

Go cold turkey on Waitrose Essential Mince Pies and Aldi Holly Lane Marzipan Stollen (both #accidentallyvegan) I haven’t had a drink since August but I have bought Vegan Baileys (from Waitrose), Champagne (from Aldi), Gin and Tonic ready mixed in cans (from Aldi) and Fosters lager for Christmas Day and Boxing Day so will be probably ceasing all that in January too

*The cats have decided that the only food they really like is one particular flavour only of Morrison’s own brand, which involves a special trip to Northampton a half hour away.

**I never did, I just had a bowl of muesli

*** I’d nearly finished when a knocking/tapping sound on the window alerted me to the swans outside wanting food. I rest my case.

Sending you all warmest wishes and lots of love

Thank you for being here

On the way to London last weekend to meet up with John’s kids before Christmas- just in time as London shut down again a few days later

Rachel

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Me, crap photos but real everyday life: thisisrachelhill

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Life update

09 Monday Dec 2019

Posted by Rachel in Uncategorized

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

Atypical, Bojack Horseman, Life on a narrowboat, love, marriage, Narrowboat, Narrowboat living, Netflix, Periods, Shameless, Shameless US, solitude, The menopause, writing

‘I feel proactive/I pull out weeds’

My husband and I have spent the last month apart; this worried a couple of people but there’s no problems, it was just for him to have a break, for me to have time alone to write and for us both to have the experience of being in the world without each other. It turns out, two weeks was plenty.

I did lots of driving both big trips and just around the local area (usually we default to him doing the driving). I mostly ate Covent Garden soup and Wicked sandwiches from the little Tesco on the way back from work. Always also in my basket were vegan staples avocados and bananas, plus satsumas, and bread for the swans.

I bought fuel, managed the fire and kept warm (it got cold right after he left, then warmed up, then got cold, now warm, will get cold tomorrow, this is the UK!) I emptied the toilet and filled the water tank.

I managed life on the boat fine. I did lots of writing/editing and I went to work usually just a couple of long shifts each week.

A couple in their sixties, experienced boaters who have been continuous cruisers for two and a half years including in London, live in the same place and have provided nice regular chats as well as the warm security blanket of them knowing I’m on my own and saying that if I need anything I can go to them.

People at work have suddenly become astonishingly friendly, as if I reached a kind of tipping point. One day I had to fight the urge to look behind me, convinced that a member of staff must be greeting someone else, she looked so pleased to see me. Another hugged me, ‘I wondered when you’d next be here.’

I had the odd lonely moment but this was almost always quickly followed by loud noises outside the boat heralding the arrival of two hungry swans.

I had the highs of spiritual insights (see below), and I maintained awareness and acceptance of the natural highs, lows and plateaus.

Writing

I’ve been editing/polishing aiming to get the book all to the same stage. When I get to a place where the chapter is more or less done (small tweaks may still be needed but I know what to do and one session on it would do it), I move on. I’m probably between a third and half the way through, maybe more. I hope to have this phase done by the end of February. Then another final polish until it is all as good as I can make it on my own.

I write almost every day, for about an hour or two. If I overdo it or try to rush it it doesn’t go so well, I get fatigued, and I lose confidence. I had one brief dip/anxiety; I forced myself to just do a bit. Half an hour later, I was okay. I could see what I was doing and had confidence that I could do it. I stopped then, grateful for that, and mindful that just half an hour was enough to give me back my hope.

One night, driving home, listening to some spiritual music sent to me by friends this month, I thought about explaining how it is to write a whole book, ‘You have to keep going. And you have to make it good.’ And then I got goosebumps. ‘Oh my God, that’s just like life….’

What I’ve been reading/watching

About people living on boats, funnily enough! I am interested in the people living in London and in particular the Continuous Cruisers. The lifestyle is explained here and this article outlines detailed tips and scary dangers. For Des, and anyone unfamiliar with the hitherto counter culture and now much more mainstream lifestyle choice of living on a narrowboat.

‘Things not to say’ from the BBC

Short films of people from different walks of life explaining the clichéd, irritating and insulting things people say to them.

Netflix: 

Before the first week was out, all of Shameless US Season 7 (I adore it, it’s based on the original Shameless set in the UK. The US seems so much tougher, I would love to hear what my American and Canadian readers make of Shameless US Season 7, no spoilers so no details) and the new season of Atypical about a teen with Autism and his family and friends. I love this so much. So then I just went onto, as planned, re watching BoJack Horseman from the beginning. Depression, fame, nihilism, existentialism, barely unremitting sadness. Don’t let the fact that it’s a cartoon fool you.

The superpowers which come with the onset of the menopause, from mumsnet. I’m always looking for the deeper meaning and spiritual context, here it is: ‘Am I having a mid life awakening or a personality transplant?’ ‘I feel like I just woke up from the matrix.’ Reading this I thought, as I often did when my regular monthly period would arrive, ‘Ah, that explains a lot….’

The space apart, the space together

I read a blog post by someone who married someone with a different language and from such a vastly different culture that there’s things the other person can’t ever know or understand, and that means the writer has a space that’s private. As someone who likes a lot of time alone, I totally understand and relate to that as a concept. However, my marriage is not like that. It’s really important to me to feel really understood. My husband and I spend a lot of time talking about all sorts of ideas, and together it feels as if we create a new space together to live in, outside of ourselves and in addition to what we’d have individually. Even in the early days, I had this sense. I used to visualise our new relationship as one of those air plants, growing in a thin glass bowl, suspended in the air between us, growing separately from the both of us, yet something we were both growing.

Anyway, we’ve missed each other, and neither of us currently want to go on separate adventures in the near future.

And in case you need more convincing about Bojack:

Thank you very much for reading

Throwback Thursday: Marriage

28 Thursday Nov 2019

Posted by Rachel in Throwback Thursday, Uncategorized

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

conflict, How to argue, Living together, love, marriage, relationships, spiritual awakening, Spiritual experience, Spiritual journey

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Leonard Cohen:  You know that I love to live with you, but you make me forget so very much.  I forget to pray for the angels, and then the angels forget to pray for us.

From the early days of Rachel and Anthony/ John:

It’s easy, (even for us! as I am fond of saying,) to become bogged down, stressed by the things that don’t matter (decorating, paperwork) and neglectful of the things that do (how we are, how we are together) and before too long a distance is created, one or other or both of us are dissatisfied and then, well, nothing really, we might have a rubbish go at sorting it out the first time and end tense and cranky, me getting defensive and going off to bed, and then the next morning, he leans his leg in, I lean mine, we talk, we make plans.  It’s not about what things we were or weren’t doing, it’s all part of it, it’s just about getting back on the path again.

He’d been feeling distance, we hadn’t been doing anything together.  I’d thought it was all hearth and home or having ‘gone beyond’ but you never ‘go beyond’; and looking back it had been a bit distant, I mean, I haven’t been feeling that happy either.  Then he goes into a charity shop in Dereham (Norfolk) of all places and finds a George Harrison book (I Me Mine) and in the introduction by Olivia his wife it sets out what their lives were like, and John said, That’s like you and me, well, without all the massive fame and wealth and so on.  And I should have been happy and I was, but I struggle to appreciate things in the moment sometimes, especially unexpected big stuff and especially when we haven’t yet made up from some tension or distance (but that was him making up or trying to make up from tension and distance) and I poured cold water on it, mentioning his (George Harrrison’s) affairs etc- there was no reason for that, but John was better than me and didn’t appear to notice or mind.

Last night, I forced us to sit and watch something, and he sat through two episodes of a box set the same way a cat does when you are forcing it to sit on your lap when it doesn’t really want to. 

He checked the oil in my car on Sunday even though we weren’t really speaking

I had this sense re the margarine left out and the toothpaste lid left off and I suddenly saw it as endearing- wow, how much I’d miss those things if they weren’t there, because they are a marker of him, his presence in my life, in the house.  If they were the same as you you wouldn’t notice them or their presence, this shows they are here…

Talking about the shortest day coming and saying after that it will get lighter again, and yet not wanting to wish life and another year away, one less year to live, but John said, if you are truly living in the moment then that doesn’t matter.

I thought about that later when we had a few cross words and I was sulking and he was angry and I laid in bed wondering what to say to elevate us above this situation and change it, at the same time as going over the evening, how we got there, who said and did what, etc, etc, analysing it…  but then I remembered, it is only the present moment, and do I want to spend it like this or do I want to change it?  And I realised, before I can change us or him I have to change myself, so I lay and just focussed on my breathing and slowly, slowly I felt myself calm and come back to calmness, felt love come in again, felt love go out to him, then finally I rolled over and put my arms around him and said I love you, I’m sorry.  I never normally apologise and like magic, it was all washed away and everything was as it was.

In meditation: warning for the future:  you had everything and you threw it all away; So do the opposite, really nurture all that I have, appreciate it, give it my attention.

I don’t want your thanks.  I just want your time and attention.

(When I was in meditation, thinking, I should pray, I should say thank you)

When I first got together with John, I had a student who had been to Japan, and she ran a calligraphy group, I did John’s name, it means ‘God has given’ in Japanese.  I had forgotten that.  God has given, why would He take away?

The problem with living together is that your moods don’t coincide:  I come home high after listening to Jeff Buckley track 10 of Grace over and over.  I walk in, he’s about to go to bed and also is very grumpy.

I guess that’s why people have date nights, so you both gear yourselves up to be happy and looking forward to seeing each other so both in a good mood at the same time rather than leaving that to chance, as well as you both being feeling like going out at the same time, which it seems is too much to hope for- both wanting to go out and both being in a good mood, all at the same time!

Still, I coped; my bubble might have been burst- from being in the car, feeling full of love and magic. But I wasn’t distraught.  And maybe the still space I had was useful- I stayed up a little, read some Elizabeth Gilbert stuff online.  Maybe it was for me to do that, a little bit of  stuff for me, or maybe it was just a reminder that my mood need not, must not, depend on his.

A few weeks later we went for a bracing January walk on the beach and we spoke a little about the day where we hadn’t spoken all day, he couldn’t remember what it was he’d been pissed off about, but it certainly wasn’t watching two episodes of Twin Peaks.  I had made up a whole schema around it and it wasn’t even true.  He said, Seriously, you don’t ever have to worry about days like those, about silly arguments, about moods.  Nothing you can ever do will stop me loving you.  You have nothing to worry about.

Nice evening paying cards with John.  Played several games, me totally relaxed, even winning some hands, and him seeming so pleased- ‘look at you, I’ve created a monster’, etc.  It’s the small things that count.  So I am so glad I learnt to play despite how hard it was for him/me.  (I have a real aversion to learning and playing games).  He said connecting with the person you are in a relationship with is a spiritual practice.  He appreciates:  dinner, sex, playing cards, watching films with him.

‘God has given’ what to do?  Answer:  all we have to do is love and allow ourselves to be loved.

Is the nature of a marriage all to do with your own energy field, it’s just you, reflected back at yourself?  And if you aren’t careful you can blame the other person for things- convenient- but if you look back honestly you realise those things have always been there, your own problems or ways of doing things that you don’t like, you might think getting married will sort them all out, but of course it can’t, you don’t realise any of this consciously though, and then when things or problems arise, as they would have done anyway, it’s easy to blame the other person, as you have conveniently forgotten how you/your life used to be before you met them.

I went for a walk to the church, John said, Say a prayer for me, for my soul.  I didn’t actually go to the church in the end, my legs took me along the footpath, past the big ivy covered trees that marked the start of my spiritual awakening.  I said a prayer anyway though:  I pray that John will be happy and free from worries and that I will be able to rise above the day to day worries and stresses that sometimes cloud things between us, and connect again to that force of love that brought us so spectacularly together in the first place.  Anyway, it worked:  he said this morning, ‘let’s have an early night, let’s go to bed before we are tired so we can talk’ (!) and sent me nice messages at work.  I like the way one of us always comes forward, or should I say back.  Like sometimes I think he’s moody and distant and sometimes I try to be loving and cuddly and sometimes I am distant and stressed and he is all compliments and cuddles and come ons.  But we get there, the two of us, thank God.

Thank you very much for reading

Lord give me a song that I can sing: Part Two

11 Friday Oct 2019

Posted by Rachel in Uncategorized, Vietnam

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Cosmic ordering, Ho Chi Minh City, Law of Attraction, love, marriage, spiritual memoir, Travel, Travel memoir, Traveling, Travelling, Vietnam

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Draft extract from the final chapter of my travel memoir

Lord give me a song that I can sing* Ho Chi Minh City

It can be hard to get a dentist in the UK, an NHS one anyway plus we’d have other things to do and might not get around to it for a while, so we’d decided to get check ups before we left. Anthony had booked the dentist when we were in DaLat. It was a private practice, very smart; the decor was leaf green, with green lockers where we put our outdoor shoes and green Crocs to wear. When it was our turn a member of staff took us up in the lift to the dentists. We were seen at the same time in separate rooms. We were struck by how many staff there were and how much attention we got, at one point I had three members of staff with me. Apparently lots of Australians come to Vietnam for dental treatment, even with insurance it is cheaper to fly to Vietnam.

We went to the army surplus market, it wasn’t as cheap as we’d hoped, the stall holders were good at the hard sell and it wasn’t at all easy to bargain. I bought army boots; Anthony bought army trousers and a long green coat. I liked the enamelled rice bowls supposedly used by the Vietnamese soldiers and considered getting them for presents. It was an indoor market and so incredibly hot we had to leave for a break.

We found a cafe where we drank freezing iced water, Red Bull and coffee. There was a waving cat on the counter, the man in the cafe told us about waving cats, businesses have them, he said, rather than waving, they are beckoning customers in. We asked him about whether the stuff in the market was real, given all the years which had passed. He said that some may be fake, but you’d ‘have to be expert to know.’ In the end we bought engraved US Army lighters for presents. Unfortunately these were confiscated at Air China check in. Every other airline we went on let us carry one lighter in hand luggage, Air China, none at all. At the counter there was a huge plastic sweetie jar half filled with cheap lighters, and our special ones were added in, sadly.

We went to the area popular with tourists, where there were narrow alleyways, lots of massage places, street food stalls, packed little shops selling everything and nice little bars and restaurants. We stopped at one and I ordered a mojito…

(We met *Geography of the Moon who we met here and went to see play, you can read about that here)

…I had only had only two cocktails, one mojito, and one cinnamon one called ‘The Struggle,’ invented by a previous bar tender, ‘She was going through something,’ the bar tender said, and one beer, with lots of space in between. But I got a contact high. Such a high of happiness. Later I lay there loved up, him asleep or resting, me thinking, appreciating him, thinking he may die, what would I be like. The next day I said, ‘I thought Oh my God what if you die, I’ll scream and I won’t be able to stop.’ I’d had a dream like that, like being out of body, trying to get a hold of myself and stop screaming. Anthony’s face was a mixture of horrified and sad. ‘No you won’t,’ he said, ‘you’ll say to yourself, ‘we had a great time together, and now it’s time to get on with the next phase of your life.’’

With two days left, I did my ‘Words are spells’ action plan/wish list. Interesting that post success life looks the same as what we are/have been doing… I imagined what I’d want, how it could start, someone could approach me about the blog… And they did. What next?

Jim Carey, ‘You can fail at what you don’t want, so you might as well take a chance on doing what you love.’ The alternative is what we’d do anyway, get ordinary jobs, not suicide.

What is being a failure anyway? Leaving with nothing? You can’t take anything with you anyway.

In the coffee shop we had a conversation about The Future; Anthony saying I must finish the book and that he would support me, over coffee and iced peach tea and more free iced tea, so much liquid. Anthony said, ‘It’s funny how you get a free drink when you order a drink.’ And that at least in the case of coffee the free drink is often much bigger than the ordered and paid for one (a last metaphor!)

Just before we left we went back to the mojito place where we’d met Geography of the Moon. We ordered Anthony breakfast, me, Americano, a great big coffee. We had one last thing to buy, incense, we thought we’d have to go to China town but we were fed up with shopping. Like everywhere the restaurant-bar had a shrine with incense burning. We asked the woman where we could buy some. ‘Are you Buddhist?’ she asked. ‘Well we meditate, we use incense,’ we said. ‘Easy,’ she said, and told us to just go out of the restaurant down the alleyway and to ask at any shop, and wrote us down the Vietnamese word for incense on a piece of paper. Sure enough, at the first shop we came to, we were shown a big box full of packs and tubes of incense, perfect for presents and for us.

Lord give me a song that I can sing/Sing for me my lord, a song that I can sing (GOTM). Much as the mournful request is hardwired into me to love, I know really you can sing the song yourself. You can write the song yourself. You can write yourself the song you want to sing. 

‘Your life is your life, go all the way’ Bukowski

Thank you very much for reading

For more photographs of HCMC see previous blog

Thank you very much for reading!

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About me

Sold house, left career, gave away almost everything else. Went travelling with my husband for a year, mostly in India. Here are my India highlights. Currently in the UK, living on a narrowboat and finishing a book about the trip, a spiritual/travel memoir, extracts from which appeared regularly on this blog, and I am returning to India 31/12/19!

Lou Reed: Transformer

07 Sunday Jul 2019

Posted by Rachel in Art, Uncategorized

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

Albums to listen to all the way through, death and dying, Laurie Anderson, Lou Reed, Lou Reed Transformer, love, marriage, meditation, memories, Music

Lou Reed: Transformer

Listen to the whole album all the way through for the perfect accompaniment to your Sunday morning/afternoon housework/dancing around the house with a duster pretending to do housework…

Released in 1972 when I was two years old.  Of course I didn’t discover it until several years later, maybe around the age of seventeen.  I can remember listening to it at that age anyway, lying on the floor in a room in a house I was babysitting at.  It’s one of the few actual moments and places I can remember from the past.

Lou Reed was married to the artist Laurie Anderson.  Lou Reed died in 2013.  In an interview with Rolling Stone Laurie Anderson said:

‘As meditators, we had prepared for this – how to move the energy up from the belly and into the heart and out through the head. I have never seen an expression as full of wonder as Lou’s as he died. His hands were doing the water-flowing 21-form of tai chi. His eyes were wide open. I was holding in my arms the person I loved the most in the world, and talking to him as he died. His heart stopped. He wasn’t afraid. I had gotten to walk with him to the end of the world. Life – so beautiful, painful and dazzling – does not get better than that. And death? I believe that the purpose of death is the release of love.’

And if you really can’t listen to the whole album, just listen to this:

Thank you very much for reading (and listening!)

About the author

Sold house, left career, gave away almost everything else.  With husband went travelling for a year, mostly in India.   Here are my India highlights.  Now back in the UK, living on a narrowboat, and writing a book about the trip, a spiritual/travel memoir, extracts from which appear regularly on this blog.

Meet Rachel Hill

23 Sunday Dec 2018

Posted by Rachel in Celebrating others, December 2018, Uncategorized

≈ 19 Comments

Tags

dreams, Ecstasy, Inspiration, love, Music, writing

2018-12-23 12.52.41Adie of From Adie With Love tagged me in a question and answer post.  I’m supposed to answer those questions, then come up with three questions of my own to ask three other bloggers, who I will tag.
It was very nice timing to go with me changing to my real name and my husband taking a photograph of me that I didn’t make him delete immediately- the above was taken on Saturday in Varkala just before we left for Hampi.

Adie has been a kind supporter of me and my blog and it’s been nice connecting with someone across the pond, Adie has answered questions that had mystified me (e.g. why do Americans all have such nice teeth.)  Adie blogs about all different subjects, and their writing is absolutely flawless.

Like Adie, I had a slight hitch this week which getting tagged to do this saved me from.  We left Kerala on Saturday, due to arrive in Hampi on Sunday, but because our flight from Trivandrum to Bangalore was delayed by three and a half hours we missed our night bus to Hampi.  I had planned to do some pics of the journey and our arrival in Hampi and do a travel update for my Sunday (today) post.  Instead we had to book into a hotel in Bangalore- for two nights as we need it for today as well- and get a new bus ticket for tonight.  On the plus side, there was a bus agent right by the hotel and last night we got the last two tickets on tonight’s bus, two minutes before he closed.  And the time at the airport meant I got most of this post drafted then, intending to post it next week, so it all worked out!

Anyway, here are my questions and answers:

What has been the happiest moment of your life so far?

I had a child at nineteen and was the sole carer.  This had the effect that I was very cautious about my health and safety.  Even though the 90s spanned my twenties, I never took Ecstasy because of this.  Also, I was an alternative/punky type who when I did go out frequented, in my late teens and very early twenties, The Jacquard an alternative nightclub and gig venue frequented by Goths,* Punks and Crusties.
*The DJ actually listed himself as King of the Goths in the phone book, and had an immaculate looking Goth girlfriend who was only allowed to wear black and purple.
This was downstairs only though.  At some point there started to be a night put on upstairs.  The DJ was someone from a local record shop who a friend had a crush on.  She and her best friend looked like more punky/gothy/alternative versions of the women from Strawberry Switchblade

but because she liked the DJ she started dressing in orange and yellow tie dye and going upstairs with all the ravers.  We, the downstairs people, were appalled at all the colourful clothes, and I didn’t find out what I was missing until many years later.

Fast forward to 2009.  I met my husband at the age of thirty-nine and fell in love, and he fell in love with me, in a way that was real and reciprocal, and that I realised I hadn’t ever experienced before.  (I’d thought I’d been in love; I’d liked people who hadn’t liked me back; and I’d experienced people being convinced that I was the one but not feeling it myself).  This, though, was so powerful it triggered a full on ‘spiritual awakening.’  I documented all this in a little book called How to find Heaven on Earth:  Love, spirituality and everyday life,  99p on Amazon UK.

At the time I didn’t know what was happening, I even searched love and spirituality on the internet and got a very interesting article that I printed out, highlighted, and still have I believe!  There were many moments of bliss from that time, but the stand out one that springs to mind is the first time I took Ecstasy.

Great Yarmouth, in Norfolk, England, can be described as a faded sea-side town, an area of serious deprivation, tacky, even.  But my husband’s choice of destination for that night was inspired.  With its colourful faded grandeur sea front buildings and beautiful, outrageously bright neon lights, Great Yarmouth beach and its sea front at night will stay in my heart forever.

Driving down the Acle Straight towards Great Yarmouth, I began to feel the effects come on.  I felt as if the G force was pushing me back into the seat.  My husband put on How soon is now by The Smiths.
‘I’m not crying,’ I said. ‘I just have tears coming out of my eyes.’
‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘You wouldn’t be the first person to cry coming up on their first E.’
When we arrived at the beach, I wound the window down and experienced the breeze on my arm, which felt incredible.  Likewise, smoking a cigarette, having a sip of cool water.  After a while my husband said, ‘Come on, get out.’
‘I can’t, I can’t walk.’ I said.
‘Of course you can walk, people dance all night on this!’
Walking on the sand, having a drink with ice cubes in it, let alone when we got home(!), that whole night was amazing.
But the How soon is now moment is the moment.

If you hadn’t decided on the career choice you’ve found yourself in, what would you have done instead?

I wanted to be a writer as a child, if I wanted to be anything.  I certainly wrote.  Then I got a career to support me and my son, this involved a few years of studying, volunteering and working, then three years of training, and twenty years of working at it.  I left my occupational therapy career in February.  Right now I have this year of travel.  It was a few months in before I realised that having this year off meant I could write a book, and a little while before I actually started doing it in earnest.

What do you do to keep yourself motivated?

On the surface I don’t seem to have much of a problem with this.
But when writing and reading the above, self confidence and committing to personal goals has clearly been a problem.  Underlying a lack- or excess- of motivation are other factors.  Committing to writing and feeling I can do it only really happened this year, the year when I turned forty eight.
I keep myself quite busy but I also like being quiet and reflective.
At home I do sometimes find it difficult to summon the motivation to do housework etc, and my car is always an absolute disgrace.

Thank you very much for reading!

I am tagging the following three people:

Ms Lockwood at The Lockwood Echo: not a real newspaper

Mr B at Bryntin

The High Heeled Paper Girl

If you wish to participate, here are your three questions:

What’s been the most significant ‘moment’ of the past seven days (that you’re happy to share)?

What do you least like about the Christmas-New Year period?

And what do you like most about it? (I know it’s a hard one Mr B, but there’s got to be something!)

The Rules

♦ Answer the questions you receive (straight, funny, absurd…up to you)
♦ Create three questions of your own (for those you tag)
♦ Tag three people

Thailand Part Five

19 Friday Oct 2018

Posted by Rachel in Thailand, Travel, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Borderline Personality Disorder, BPD, Emotions, Fear of abandonment, love, marriage, mental health, Personal growth, Shame, Thailand, Travel, Travelling

YES TO EVERYTHING:  THAILAND (PART FIVE) Draft chapter for book Sri Thanu, Koh Phangan,

We’d started off in the party area for my step daughter, moved into a proper town for the middle part, and for the last week we moved to the yoga area. We thought we might go to a yoga class- we didn’t- but the main reasons were that it was quiet and there were lots of good vegan food places. We’d thought it might be expensive which was part of the reason we’d had the week in the town, as well as to have some variety and not stay in any one place too long in case we didn’t like it.

Our first introduction wasn’t that great, our taxi driver accidentally pulled up at the wrong property and an unfriendly Westerner leaned out from his balcony and told us all off for parking on the grass. Luckily, the place where we were staying was more friendly. Owned by a Belgium family, the son, who worked behind the bar said, ‘It’s a dream life.’

The accommodation was beach hut style bungalows, with a bar-restaurant on site, coconut palms, lots of greenery and little paths that led directly down onto the beach and tasteful sunbeds. A small swimming pool was on site; at night it was beautifully and temptingly lit up but out of bounds after seven pm.

The toilets did not have bum guns or even a jug and tap near the toilet like we’d grown used to in India and the rest of Thailand. Plus the bum gun is really useful for sluicing down the bathroom floor and getting rid of sand. It’s interesting to see how quickly or how slowly we adapt to new ways of doing things. We’d got used to the bum gun or jug, the water way. This made the seat wet though, and so I said to my husband, can we try and remember to lift the seat up, so it dries and we/I don’t get a wet bum. ‘I’ll try, but it’s going to be hard to undo years of conditioning,’ my husband said. I thought of all the arguments men and women have about this, and how it can change in an instant when your environment or culture changes.

There was a cute but fairly out of control puppy that some tourists had brought back from the street and then just gone home, leaving the guesthouse owners- who already had a dog and who had told the tourists not to bring the puppy back- to feed it. Though they fed it and were going to get its jabs done, the puppy was now not part of a dog pack or a human family. It used to scratch at our door in the night, as our room was where the tourists had stayed.

There were tiny birds in the bushes outside our room, they looked almost like hummingbirds. Around the place, hanging from trees, were strings of shells interspersed with pearlised pink beads, they looked so pretty. We’d seen a similar thing in Haad Rin, a kind of string and shell sculpture hanging from the low branches of trees at the edge of the beach.

The street with a 7/11 was at the end of the entrance drive. Along the ‘main road,’ which was very quiet, were lots of yoga places, lots of restaurants, a freshwater lake, and jungle just off the street. There were lots of scooters and jeeps. Some of the motorbikes had side cars which were like a metal frame or a cart, once we saw an old lady and three kids sitting in one. Others had been made into mobile grocery shops, selling all kinds of fresh fruit and veg, the driver would stop outside a restaurant and ring a bell.

We needn’t have worried about food and prices, as well as all the vegan places there were lots of little Thai places that were relatively cheap to eat at. I say relatively, because everything seemed expensive compared to India. The little Thai places were simple wooden structures at the side of the road, our favourite one had a tiny kitchen made from old blue wooden doors, and inside had everything hanging neatly on the walls, and jars packed onto lots of little shelves, like a cabin. Outside were a few wooden tables and chairs, plants and tree decorations, one a little wooden sign saying, Let it go.

What I read up about Thailand said to try and avoid saying the word ‘no,’ as in Thailand there isn’t a word for no. Although I had all good intentions this proved difficult, almost impossible to stick to; being offered massage and taxi at every turn, as well as being asked questions requiring a yes or no answer, eg would you like a plastic bag. We thought that in tourist areas they had probably got used to tourists saying no, and it didn’t seem to be a problem. What we realised was more important though, was not putting Thai people in a position of having to say no to us, as it appeared to cause discomfort.

One evening we’d finished dinner. I’d had coconut milk and tofu soup and a banana shake. We chatted for a while before my husband decided he’d like a banana shake too. He asked, the woman broke into giggles, hopped from foot to foot, wrung her hands, appearing very uncomfortable, before eventually explaining that the kitchen had, ‘Been cleaned.’ We quickly realised, the kitchen was closed! ‘Oh, okay no problem, we’ll come back in the morning.’ All smiles, harmony restored and my husband did as he’d promised and went back at breakfast and got his shake.

The same thing happened during a big power cut when we were going around finding out if anyone was still cooking, people were unable to say no, so we started saying, ‘Is tomorrow better?’ ‘Yes, come back tomorrow,’ they said, until we found one that was cooking.

During the daytime I wrote in the onsite restaurant, where there was good internet, charging points, water, coffee and food if I wanted it- homemade Belgium fries, tofu and vegetable rice- but also the staff were happy for me to just sit and write.

It was mostly quiet in the daytime, but just like in some places in India, even when no one was there they had the music turned up really loud. After a few days I got up the confidence to ask them to turn it down when there was only me. And just like at the Cactus Bar in Haad Rin, they played really inappropriate music for little kids, I watched/listened as a family with young kids arrived, I was so tempted to say something, but the staff did change it, after a while.

The staff were really nice though, the main person we spoke to was from Burma, he spoke very good English and Thai. He said that Thai people speak very fast on the islands so it’s very hard to learn; he said people speak slower in the North, so that in Bangkok, it is much easier to learn Thai.

The beach, whilst not huge, was very beautiful, and in the evenings we were able to watch the sun set over the sea. It was so beautiful that it felt surreal.

I even tried sunbathing; habitually I cover up from full sun, but I just thought, ‘Yes to everything.’ I dropped a factor of sunblock on the white bits, missed it out altogether on the tanned bits, went swimming, paced around the pool about twenty times, (have I mentioned I’m not that good at sitting doing nothing?) thought, that doesn’t seem to have done anything, so laid on one of the tasteful sunbeds with J for a bit until hot/bored and went in.

I got burned of course, my skin went wrinkly and I thought, well that was stupid.

Stupid of me, I mean. I do have some respect for people who make it their mission to tan and do it safely and slowly and thoroughly because I now know it takes a lot of dedication. (Just like having really nice hair and nails and a good coordinated wardrobe, other things I also don’t do/have.)

After my sunbathing, later on I went for a walk by myself. It was still hot but I covered up and took water with me. I walked past a beautiful shrine, yellow and gold with mirror mosaic that glinted silver in the bright sun.

I had bought new shoes in Kerala on a rare trip to a shopping mall. Alongside my flip flops they were my only footwear. When they were new they had given me huge bloody blisters. In Thailand I started wearing my shoes without socks they had become so comfortable.

Further along the road there was a yoga place, I went in and picked up a programme, they had a huge range of different yoga classes and meditations. It felt too hot for yoga really, but if J had wanted to go to anything I would have gone with her.

I carried on up the road as it became a hill. I said to myself, just to the top and back. I reached the top, said, just over the brow, and then, just a little further. As the road curved to the left suddenly everything opened out to a beautiful view down to the sea. The sea was a beautiful deep blue, there was a little bay, islands, and the sunshine making stripes on the sea. There was even a little stony layby where I could stand and stare safely away from the path of passing jeeps and scooters, and a flat rock to sit on and look down at it all from up high.

On the way back a yoga woman actually said hi and talked and walked with me, unthinkable in India. ‘I thought, she’s been to India,’ she said, recognising my lungi dress. This gives me cred with the Thai yoga people, in the hierarchy India comes top!

We went back to same place where I’d had the coconut soup and I realised in comparison how ill I’d felt when we went there the first time. I’d only dared eat soup and been really anxious about needing the loo. You don’t know how ill you’ve been until you feel well; in a turn around of this song they played everywhere, ‘you never miss the light til its getting low, never miss the sun til its starts to snow, never know you love her til you let her go,’ which may or may not be a good song but I heard it way too many times during that holiday.

Days of writing, maybe I’d been working too hard, and long evenings of sociability when I am a natural introvert, had meant that when I experienced a moment of peace, I really experienced it. We’d all retired early to bed after dinner. I sat on our bed which had a navy cotton ribbed bedspread, it had a familiar quality, I might have once had one like it at home. It was in a pause before we were going to watch Battlestar Gallactica. Quiet, comfortable, no pressure. A rare moment of absolute peace.

Towards the end of our time I had an emotional day, so happy in the morning, so sad at night. My husband and I went out for a vegan breakfast, just us. Just like in Eat Pray Love when she eats the pizza in Naples, it was almost a religious experience. Even the tiles on the floor were so beautiful, of flowers and grasses, just like the floor of heaven. The place was even called something to do with heaven. In the evening before dinner we went onto the beach, sungazing, paddling, watching the unbelievable light and colors in the sky and on the water, like pearlised nail polish.

Then the three of us went out and had dinner at the place we’d discovered during the power cut, a basic looking but busy and popular place at the side of the road. My husband tried a bit of my dinner and saved me some of his. The waiter came and offered us their speciality, mango sticky rice, we protested, ‘Maybe you leave Koh Phangan ten kilos heavier!?’ he said. We agreed to have just one plate to share.

My husband made a joke about me not saving him any of my dinner; J laughed. Even though he was only joking, and even though she was only laughing at him not me, it triggered this awful feeling. First I thought it was simple embarrassment, then I realised it was shame.

The mango sticky rice came with one fork and one spoon, my husband and J picked them up and started eating. ‘You having any?’ he said to me after a while. I had no implement. I could have shared his, I could have used my fingers, actually that is the done thing, but in my shame-state I couldn’t eat. I tried a tiny mouthful just to act normal-it tasted like the best food in the world, perfectly ripe mango and sweet-salty rice with a little bite to it- and then punished myself by not eating any more. I was paralysed with shame. I needed to go for a wee, but didn’t, just left with them and walked back, sitting outside the 7/11 while they went in, waiting to get home.

Here is where I have things in common with the features of emotionally unstable or borderline personality disorder (BPD): emotions that are triggered seemingly easily, come on strong and last a long time. Shame is a particularly important one as many BPD patients will have experienced being shamed as children.

Of course, rationally, underneath all this I realised that my husband was just trying not to let J feel left out; throughout the three weeks we were obviously both aware that we were a couple and of the need to make sure she didn’t feel isolated.

Yet shame, being left out, being left behind, are all big things for me, even though I didn’t name and experience them in so wide awake a way before.

On a previous evening we’d been walking home, my husband and J up ahead, me lagging behind, when my earing fell out and pinged across the ground. Instead of calling them back, I had a half hearted look and then gave up and walked on a bit sorrowfully, only mentioning it when I caught up. ‘Why didn’t you call us?’ My husband said. Immediately they both set off walking back with me and the three of us had a thorough look. We didn’t find it. Although they were my only pair of ‘dangly’ earrings, they were just the cheap gold hoop earrings I’d bought in Haad Rin and had since gone almost black, so it wasn’t important in itself, only as a teaching or a light.

Once I had been on holiday with a group of good friends, on our way home we had all decided to stop off at a certain beach, prolonging the holiday, and all drove separately. For some reason there was some confusion and they left without me or went to a different beach. It was a complete accident but I remember being really upset about it. I think it was the first time I’d really showed that side of myself to them, and they were people I’d known for years.

I even remember during the same holiday, when it was my turn to look after the dinner, someone else had made it, then I stayed in to stir it until it was finished, whilst the others sat outside on the decking with wine and cigarettes. The dinner seemed to take forever and I remember feeling really lonely and left out, even though I love solitude. Another thing I have in common with BPD features, an intense fear of abandonment.

I can trace the origins of some of these characteristics back to schooldays, but right now it’s not about analysing the past, it’s about shining a light on my emotions and responses and ironing out the kinks in as present a moment as possible.

After we got home after the mango sticky rice and 7/11, we went for a walk on the beach. I remember turning my head towards the sea and breathing; it smelled warm, and salty.

Back in the room, lying in bed, feeling my low mood, tearful, letting my emotions play out without suppressing them. Watching them, looking for a positive, use emotions.

We watched Battlestar Gallactica ‘You learned the wrong lesson from your mother. You confused the messenger and the message.’ I don’t know what that means for the character or me but I hope to find out both.

In the semi darkness, my head turned to the wall, I stared at the picture on the wall. It looked like a thing, a white creature with a crumpled face and paws. Paws resting on a table or keyboard, a surface of some kind. As if it were feeling, or controlling, what’s going on below.

I couldn’t find the right words to talk to my husband about it until the next day. I wanted to explain it from the point of view of, look what I found out about myself, and so that he would know me more rather than less.

After I talked to my husband, and with the addition of daylight, I looked again at the picture on the wall. It was just a bowl, and some unidentifiable white things.

But of course these things are never easy to discuss and sometimes things get worse before they get better. My husband said he felt ‘devastated,’ that something he’d said had made me feel so bad, and spent the day feeling like an awful person. I spent the day in a battle to force myself to go swimming. I knew the exercise would make me feel better but at the same time I felt anxious, hopeless and paralysed.

The closer we got to me going off to Tokyo, the worse we seemed to get on, bickering over the smallest things. Maybe it was the pressure of, ‘Oh it’s our last few days, they’ve got to be good.’ Or maybe we were living up to what we’d been saying mainly as a joke, ‘We need to build in a break from each other during this trip as we’ve been together almost 24/7 for six months.’ But I think we were both just sad really.

The two of us went out and I ate a whole portion of mango sticky rice, it was a re do, like buying the earrings from the shop in Haad Rin was.

My husband came in the taxi with me to the ferry, which I was glad about; and because we arrived early we got to spend a few hours alone together. We sat on a wooden platform looking out to sea, talking about our year, and watching big lizards sunning themselves on the rocks before disappearing into the gaps the moment we tried to take their picture.

So we ended up spending five weeks in Thailand, most of it on a paradise island. No travelling other than to and from the island. No taking the night train to Chang Mai from Bangkok with the lady boys, which apparently is meant to be fun. It wasn’t really planned but that was just how it all worked out. I had my hair done and got to wear (relatively) skimpy/fitted clothes. We stayed at easy places. I did lots of writing and relaxing. We ate great food. My hair looked thick, my eyes were sparkling, my face was clear and radiant. If you are travelling in India for a year, if you have a visa like ours where you have to go out after six months, I recommend a month or a fortnight in Thailand. Go stay on a holiday paradise island. You don’t even have to tell anyone, you could just pretend you’re at an Ashram or something. Or just say that you’ve gone there ‘to write.’

Personal update
Agghhh! Son’s dental surgery postponed until 10th November.

Travel update
I’m going to schedule this as a separate post for Saturday. My posts are far too long and at least people who can’t or don’t want to read the chapters can easily just check in on where we are if they want to.

Writing update
This, which means the draft of Thailand is finished! Next up, Tokyo.

See you next week, and thank you very much for reading.

Hampi Heaven

20 Friday Apr 2018

Posted by Rachel in Hampi, India, Minimalism, Personal growth, spirituality, Travel, Uncategorized

≈ 21 Comments

Tags

Anjuna, Hampi, India, love, Personal growth, spirituality, Travel

image3.jpegphoto by Jude Atkinson-Hill

We stayed on the other side of the river to the temples for two nights and on our second evening we walked up the path where people go bouldering.  We walked amongst huge boulders that are somehow balanced securely on the rock slopes, looking as if they might fall but have probably been there forever, balanced on each other like strange rock snowmen.  Walls of sandy coloured boulders and rocks, almost polystyrene looking, like Planet of the Apes or Star Trek, unreal, as if this is where the world started.  Looking around it is easy to imagine that there was a big explosion and everything fell to earth as it was created, (even us, I whispered to myself.)

We sat on huge flat rocks that were so warm that I had to put my feet on my bag to stop them burning, and watched the sun set behind the clouds.  I felt myself absorbing the sun’s energy, as well as the power and energy of those huge rocks.

I had meditated for a second time in the beach hut in Agonda, again dropping into it easily after a little yoga.  I couldn’t help remembering that when I had meditated a few days earlier, the overriding sensation had been of FEAR.  This time though, it wasn’t there and although I may have initially suggested it to myself (it’s hard in meditation to know if an idea has come from my thinking brain or from deep inside me), however it felt right and didn’t change, and this time the word was STRONG.

On the rocks was not exactly meditating, it was more reflection, mindfulness and energy absorption.  But still definitely not fear.

Even though I am in India I am still the same, of course.  I still get anxious and have a bit of OCD, but loads of stuff is okay or much better than I expected.  I coped fine with the heat in Hampi which was my biggest fear.  (The weather reports said it was 39°C but felt like 42°C, whatever that means.  Hot, anyway, hot enough that when I heard it was 32°C in Goa I thought that sounded good).  I have even come to kind of enjoy the feeling of sweat pouring off me, as if I am being detoxified, which I suppose I am.  I also like the sense of languidness that is absolutely essential in the afternoons and often includes a nap.

In the hottest weather my clothes work and I feel really comfortable:  really baggy black linen trousers, white (well, they were when I bought them) shirts, a lilac hat, with a cream scarf draped over the top.  As long as I don’t look in the mirror…  When it cools down a little I do my best to look nice:  shower, brush my hair and put it up into a neat bun, put on a fresh black vest top and black knee-length skirt, ditch the hat, drape my cream scarf over my shoulders.  I have hardly any clothes, but they are all functional and they all go together.

My tummy is fine (although I have a new standard of fine since being here).  I don’t care about products, I don’t seem to need to moisturise as much here anyway, and when I run out of Oil of Olay (which I have used every day for twenty years) I am just going to buy something else, anything.  Likewise even with my beloved Body Shop hemp handcream I only experience mild anxiety re what I am going to do when it runs out.

Maybe it was Hampi, maybe it was PMS, but I found myself feeling so raw, so emotional, so happy I almost cried (well actually I did a little bit, discreetly).  India is obviously so steeped in spirituality, and being here is such sweet sensory overload, that it would be surprising if I walked through it without feeling something.  And Hampi is such a special place.

We got the ferry over the river each day, just a short distance, the man does this back and forth all day.  We were reminded of Siddhartha.  (Later, one of my favourite bloggers SMUT. and Self-Esteem mentioned Siddhartha in a really inspiring post called Atheism and Spirituality).  In a similar vein, we met the man who takes the money at the main temple, he has worked there, caring for the temple for forty years.

At the huge Ganesh statue, carved from a single piece of stone, we arrived at the exact moment that the woman who works there cleaning and minding it arrived and opened the gates so that we could go inside and hug the huge warm belly of Ganesh and walk around him.

It was too hot to walk everywhere so we got a rickshaw to The Lion God Narasimha, stopping for coconuts when we got too hot.

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Meeting Indian people was nice.  We met people in Goa but that was largely a pop up population, there only for the season before packing up and going home to places including Kerala and Nepal.  In Hampi almost everyone we met had been born there and lived there all their lives.  Our rickshaw driver had lived amongst the ruins, before the people were moved out from there and his family moved into the town.  There were lots of Indian tourists who were very friendly and even took our photographs and took selfies with us!  A Catholic nun was concerned about us being too hot and advised me to wear a piece of onion in my hair to stop me getting heat stroke.

We fell asleep in the afternoon with the door open because of the heat, and a monkey came in and took my dearly beloved tablet (the one I do everything on, I decided not to buy a Chromebook after all).  People from the rooftop cafe opposite saw it and a little boy retrieved it for me and came to our room with his father to return it.  (The tablet was in a zip up plastic toiletry type bag, apparently they take things like that in case it is food).  Our room was on the first floor, and the monkeys jump from roof to roof, I am so lucky that they didn’t drop it from a height and break it!)  I was half asleep and bewildered at the time but later, after we had visited the main temple again, this time at dusk and seen all the families there, sitting with tea and food and seen all the monkeys again, we returned home and I bumped into the boy’s father and was able to say a heartfelt thank you and give the boy and his sister a small present.

I did this by myself and then went to join my husband and stepson in the Old Chillout restaurant downstairs (which has lovely seating and lounging areas, great food, super friendly staff, and looks out over the boulders and banana palms), and just, sat…  I didn’t know at first what the feeling was, but it was so strong that after a while I took out my tablet and went on WordPress because otherwise I might have properly started crying.  That feeling, of course, was love.

20180417_044010

The next morning we left at 5.30am.  It was still dark and we drove past people waking up and starting their days, past carts pulled by oxen, past all kinds of temples and shrines, and watched dawn break, feeling the cool night air through the open sides of the rickshaw.  Magical.

We got the train back to Goa, an 8.5 hour journey in 2nd class ac, booked by the man who arranged our coach from Agonda to Hampi.  So far we have been doing things the easy way, later we’ll also use local buses and book trains ourselves at the station, but it is the man’s business and it was nice to support him.  The train was not quite as smart as the one from Delhi to Goa but perfectly comfortable and with a plentiful supply of people selling meals, snacks, coffee, water and sweets.  Although we had booked sleepers people were in our seats/beds and we didn’t have the heart to evict more than one person so we shared a sleeper seat for most of it, not really a problem as it was daytime (although I did go to sleep).

We arrived at Anjuna Beach, which was a bit too holiday maker-ish for us so we decided to find somewhere to move on to.  The next morning we got up early and went to look at Little Vagator.  We didn’t really like that either and so ended up staying in Anjuna one more night whilst we decided where to go next.  Arriving in Anjuna and Little Vagator after being in Hampi was like being pulled out of heaven.  Also, we had experienced probably the best beach in Goa already and been spoilt:  Agonda, with its tasteful beach side restaurants and bars, and beach huts, all of which are situated behind or level with the treeline so as not to spoil the beach.  Whilst of course touristy, it was so perfectly done, and the beach so clean, peaceful and big I don’t suppose anywhere will compete with that.

But it is about the experience, after all, and it was fun, getting up really early to beat the heat and going off to get to Little Vagator, with nowhere open and no rickshaws around.  We met two local guys who shared their cigarettes and drinks with us and persuaded an off duty rickshaw driver to take us, and invited us out to party with them.  That evening we did what you do in Anjuna, which I found quite scary, down the backstreets in the dark, into a house with one, two, then three men appearing.  Back to the guesthouse in a taxi to get cards and go to the ATM, having declined the offer of my husband getting a lift on the back of one of their mopeds and me staying in the house with one of the men and being made tea.  We wouldn’t have done that in England, in fact I am sure that here it would have been fine, but if anything had happened we’d have looked like idiots for taking that risk.  But they were all lovely, everything was fine, and now we can have another experience…

Living the Dream

03 Saturday Feb 2018

Posted by Rachel in escape the matrix, Feminism, happiness, memories, relationships, Uncategorized, veganism

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Feminism, happiness, love, marriage, Netflix

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‘I’m doing something for the first time,’ I said to my husband, ‘Guess what it is.’

‘You’re stewing apples,’ he said.

‘It’s not so much what I am actually doing, it’s about what I am doing.’  I said.

It was Friday morning and I was making something from a recipe that I had just read in a post on the internet.  I read it, and I thought, we have apples, we have oats, we have apple juice.  I can do it.  I can do it right now.

I have never done this before.  Funnily enough, a few days ago, I had been thinking that I did want to start doing this.  Lisa Anniesette posts some lovely looking recipes, but I have never once tried making them.  I don’t know what’s stopping me from actually trying to make Lisa’s or anyone else’s recipes.  Am I intimidated because the food looks so lovely, the photographs make everything look so glamorous, so that I somehow think that it isn’t for me?  Am I waiting for some mythical time in the future when I become the kind of person who makes things like that?  Or am I just too lazy to go and shop specially/shop for new things?  This is no one’s issue but my own but I decided that I wanted this to change.

Anyway, on Friday morning after writing the draft of my previous post, I was catching up on Behcets and Borderline posts, having realised that she hadn’t gone quiet, I hadn’t actually been following her, and I came across one with a recipe in.  No photo, just a recipe tacked quietly onto the end of a personal blog, with a little note saying, if you do try it, let me know how you get on.  Those few little words gave me all the encouragement I needed.

Of course food posts look nice, otherwise we wouldn’t want to make whatever it was.  (This isn’t a food post by the way.)  But no one ever puts pictures of themselves sobbing on Facebook (not usually anyway) and they don’t tend to post pictures of their houses looking a mess.

This is what my kitchen actually looked like on Friday morning when I came downstairs and started making the apple oaty breakfast:

20180202_104730

20180202_104701

20180202_104643

See, no shame.  My friend and I used to joke about sending a realistic round robin letter (you know those Christmas letters people send out to everyone that only have the good things), about our kids truanting from school and getting arrested.

A few weeks ago a friend was telling me about a recently separated man she had just met.  He showed her pictures of the inside of his wife’s fridge, to show what a slob she was.  I thought, wow, that’s mean, I’d hate it if someone did that to me.  It seemed so personal.  Isn’t it a kind of slut shaming, but about housekeeping?  But then I thought, why should the woman be ashamed if the fridge is dirty?  Why her and not the man, and why feel ashamed, I mean, it’s only a dirty fridge, you haven’t hit a dog whilst speeding.

I had a day off on Friday and so did my husband.  Breakfast, cold left over Indian takeaway (my favourite) followed by the hot apple oaty breakfast which was very nice, even better cold the next day (today).  My husband played my favourite songs on the ipod.  Then we wrapped up warm and went to Lowestoft, had a walk on the beautiful beach and then went to the lovely new vegan deli VeGee to eat, drink and warm up.  A well dressed, well to do woman customer looked me up and down, looking at my clothes.  I really wanted to say to her, it’s okay, none of that stuff matters.  I didn’t mind at all.  Then home, a bit of yoga, then more quality time with my husband:  we watched (the original) Bladerunner:  The Director’s Cut* followed by BoJack Horseman.  It was one of the nicest days I have ever had.

This is what we listened to in the car, parked up, watching a seagull dancing on the ground and eating worms.  (The seagull, not us, we’re vegans)

* They implanted the replicants (conscious, emotion feeling ‘robots’ that the humans had built and enslaved) with a memory stream containing a history, a family, so that they’d be easier to control.  Spooky, huh?

 

Thank you for reading.

See yourself as beautiful (Warning: sexually explicit)

28 Tuesday Nov 2017

Posted by Rachel in happiness, karezza, relationships, sex, therapy, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

healing, love, marriage, sex

I’ve got a perfect body, though sometimes I forget

I’ve got a perfect body cause my eyelashes catch my sweat

(Regina Spektor)

We went a week without having sex after getting back from Marrakech.  The sex we had in Marrakech seemed to be some kind of unlock, releasing things/me.  It felt like healing had occurred.  When we had sex again my husband took me to another dimension.  It was as if I had been waiting, searching, all through the intervening years since the first sexual encounter, until now.  I feel like I finally worked out how my body works.  Or rather, like I finally remembered how it works.

Because I used to know, and then I forgot.  It became layered under peer pressure (actually from my female peers this was often anti not pro sex), my mother saying about me:  where is she, whoring around again.  Relationships, unrequited love.  There was no place, no mirror I could find that supported or reflected my own particular brand of feminism.

Anyway, this is a personal not a political blog so back to the other night, in bed with my husband:  He took me to another dimension.  I feel like I’m in a special place, I whispered.  And there we were, both tripped into somewhere else.  I often go somewhere else during sex but I often go there by myself:  drifting in and out of tried and tested fantasies that help me relax enough to come.  Like I’m avoiding just being  present.  But that night, I thought to myself:  here you are, having sex WITH MY HUSBAND.

WITH MY HUSBAND.  I realised, of course, we are designed so perfectly.  He puts his penis into my vagina, it touches me just there and I…  Yes, I come, I come.  Oh my God, I came and came, without stopping, one orgasm rolled into another, began as the previous one was ending, as if the sensation of one ending was enough to trigger the next one.  And even just laying there afterwards, the slightest brush, the slightest movement, the slightest thought started it all off again.

FYI we weren’t doing anything unusual, we were in the missionary position which is good for sensation and touching the right spots inside.  But like everything, sex is really a mind game.

Looking in the bathroom mirror I saw myself as beautiful.  For a few precious moments I understood why he doesn’t like me wearing any make up on my face.   He wants to see me.

 

 

 

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