Rock stars of the now

All my life I have been in a love affair with tomorrow. Tomorrow was the magical day when my life would start falling into place. Tomorrow I would start my diet without a single stumble. Tomorrow I would go to the gym and run 10k in one go. Tomorrow I would write that entire essay with great flair and panache. Tomorrow I would tidy up my room. Always tomorrow.

I lived in awe of future me. Future me was awesome. She was the right weight, she got stuff done, she had the right skills, she had conquered her fears and tamed her shortcomings. She was wise, and confident, and funny and people loved her. Future me was a rock star.

What I never realised throughout my formative years, was that all that did was make present me feel even more demoralised. Because future me was everything present me was not. So present me might as well slump in the sofa watching a film while eating cake.

But here is the kicker: present me is so much more of a rock star that future me could ever be. Why? Because future me will always a bit of a poser. She lives on whatever present me achieves. Here is an example from my own experience:

I was never an early riser, but about two years ago I realised that if I wanted to make a true commitment to exercising my body I had to get up early and do it before the rest of my life got in the way. And so I did; I set my alarm clock to stupid a.m. (official time), and when the alarm went off I simply made myself get up. No snooze, no I-wish-I-could-stay-here-for-all-eternity, just motion. To be perfectly honest, most of the energy came from a place of anger at past me, who had set the alarm to stupid a.m., so I figured I might as well do something with it. But I digress.

The first few weeks were brutal. I did not want to do it; I was sleepy, grumpy and it was far too cold outside my bed. But with every day that passed things started to get easier. I was forming a habit. And the thing with habits is that after a while they start sustaining themselves. The neuro pathways for that particular task are strengthened with repetition and it all becomes easier and easier.

So when people tell me today how impressed they are about my morning habit, I feel like it is only a half-deserved compliment. Because I'm not actually doing much. Mostly I am just riding the wave of habit. The gruelling work was done by past (once present) me. So what I enjoy today are the fruits of that hard labour.

And this is truly eye-opening. Future me will always be a bit of an impostor. Present me is the true hero. Because only she can take action. Only she can shape what is to come. And she is too busy rocking her life to slump around eating cake anymore. She has a world of wondrous paths to pave.

The day perfection died

All my life I wanted to be the perfect blank. The perfect daughter, the perfect friend, the perfect student (this one is slightly debatable, I think it's fairer to say I simply wanted to have the best grades out of everyone). I wanted to be better than my peers at everything. Better at helping around the house. Better at cross stitching. Faster to learn how to ride a bike. Quieter when in close proximity to an adult (because adults loooove a child who knows how to be quiet). And every time I fell short it felt like a sharp sting. I wasn't as good as all those other kids (never mind they weren't perfect either!). I was disappointed in myself and I had let everyone down.

And here is the kicker: it wouldn't make one bit of difference how much I tried, I would ALWAYS fall short of perfect simply because perfect does not exist. And I have forced myself to live a life where all I do is chase a multitude of unattainable carrots at the end of a stick.

Even as an grown adult I still strive for perfect. And even if those rare moments when I did get there, I wouldn't trust that I did. That presentation was perfect, but how can I make it better next time? Dinner was spot on, but how can we make it tastier/faster to cook/cheaper/more exciting? It seems that in my search for perfect nothing, not even perfect would do.

So I ask: why did I keep doing it to myself over and over and over?

In light of this I am taking drastic measures. For the first time in my life I am erasing that word from my vocabulary. Perfect is deceased. It is no more. Not on my lips, and hopefully not in my thoughts either.

I am boycotting perfect.

From now on it's present over perfect for me (which incidentally in the name of the book I'm currently reading, and that helped solidify this new resolve, you can buy it here).

From now on I choose to be. As I am, flaws and all. Right here, right now. And I shall grow organically from this point with no (perfect) goal in sight. And I will be happy and content. And I will be there, wherever there is. I will be present. And isn't that better than perfect?

The life-saving art of being enough

I remember going to see Babe in cinemas. I was eight years old and it was my first grown up film (and by grown up I mean live action, not dubbed, in English and with subtitles). It felt like a rite of passage and a test to my budding reading skills.

The thing that stuck with me more than anything was the final shot of the farmer looking down at Babe and uttering the magical words "That'll do, pig. That'll do.". I remember how good those words felt. Like a gulp of water when you've been parched for so long. 

They sounded of utter acceptance. Of being enough. And in this day and age we have been raised to believe and feel we are never enough. We have been taught to strive for perfect, even though we know that doesn't exist. We live our lives chasing and impossible dream. A carrot on the end of a stick that we will never - ever! - reach.

Think about it; our society is built around making us feel flawed, insecure, unworthy and miserable. Through billboards and media everywhere there is the eternal message that you will not be happy until you own the new model of whatever car or phone, until you look like an impossible picture from a magazine (not even models look like that, which must do wonders for their self-esteem and self-worth!, but I digress), until you watch the must-see film of the year, until, until, until.

And it seems we are leading our lives waiting for that perfect tomorrow that will never arrive. This fact coupled with the constant feeling of failure because who we are and what we do is never enough poisons our days and undermines our self-worth.

So if perfect does not exist, why are we still using that word? Why can't we just accept that we are enough right here and right now? We have enough skills, enough willpower, enough talents, enough blessings to be happy right now.

Over the years that one line has become one of my biggest mantras. "That'll do, pig. That'll do." Because I am enough. Yes, I can and I choose to improve my life. I want to explore and to push way past my comfort zone. There are so many new and exciting adventures awaiting me out there. But all of this comes from a place of knowing I am already enough.

Because perfectionism is a joy killer and enough is where happiness lives. When you accept that something or someone is enough you stop trying to improve it and you start to enjoy it. To live mindfully in the moment. You accept the little flaws in order to enjoy the good.

The living room may not be perfectly tidy, but it is tidy enough, so you grab your book and your mug of tea and enjoy an afternoon reading in the sofa. Your child may take longer to complete a certain task, or do it in a less effective way, but instead of getting frustrated you tell yourself that the fact the task got done in the end is enough, at least for now. The sky may not be perfectly cloudless, but it's sunny and bright enough to enjoy a walk in the park you might not have done if you had otherwise stayed in waiting for perfect weather. A conversation with a someone you care about may not have been perfect and they might even have stepped on your toes a bit, but you see the meaning and intentions behind the words and suddenly you get it and that is enough.

I've come to the realisation that enough is all you need and I live my life on a quest against perfection. Because at the end of the day "That'll do, pig. That'll do" will do it every time.

Living in the now

Earlier this week we went to the Zoo. I haven't been in years, and it is something we never did together, so it was a great experience. At some point we saw otters. Now let me pause for a moment here. I love otters. Otters are my patronus. They are my spirit animal. They are my reincarnation goal. So naturally, as my boyfriend started taking pictures of them, he looked at me and, with great surprise on his face, asked me why I wasn't taking any pictures. 

And my answer to that question is this: because whenever possible I choose to be in the moment with my own eyes, instead of filtering and limiting my experience through some form of lens.

Yes, there are many moments when I absolutely love taking pictures for posterity, especially the goofy kind. But think about this for a moment: your eye can surpass any lens there is (by a lot!), so unless you really want to take that picture, why would you? Not to mention that when you look at your camera you are shutting off from literally everything else around you. And you worry about your shot, the light, the framing, the zoom, that person what is not moving away fast enough for you to take a picture without them in it. And all of this is keeping you from actually experiencing and savouring the moment you are in. 

Another little nugget: how often do you go back on your pictures anyway? If you spend an entire concert looking at it through your phone (because you are recording it), are you really experiencing it? And at what cost? Do you really do anything with the video after more than two days have passed? Because I had this particular experience and let me tell you that I never - ever! - watched the videos I made of that concert (to a point that I don't remember where they are or - most shockingly of all - what concert it was, because I wasn't truly living it).

I am not a world renowned photographer and I don't think I could take a picture of an otter that would be worth printing and hanging on my living room wall. There are professionals that do a great job at this, so I don't bother much myself. Instead I chose to drink in the moment for all its worth. I looked at the otters, from the pups to the adults and back to the pups again, from their tiny paws to their adorable expressions. I heard the cute little noises they made. I noticed the shadows of overhead trees on their fur. I felt the odd breeze that made the hairs on my arms stand on end, and how the muscles in my legs seemed to enjoy not walking for that little break. And I watched the otters so so closely.  

Please don't get me wrong, I still take A LOT of pictures, I really, really do. And not just the goofy kind, sometimes I go properly artistic. But I ponder on the cost involved in taking every single one of them. Because life goes by so fast that if you don't pay attention, you might miss it altogether. Slow is the new happy. And remembering to be in the moment may just save your life.

And just as I kept revisiting the otter moment in the Zoo, I came across this little piece of Leon Logothetis' book, The Kindness Diaries (highly recommended, the documentary is also available on Netflix worldwide):  

As I drove out of Utah and into Colorado, I looked up to find a double rainbow stretching across the towering Rocky Mountain skyline. Maybe because I slightly feared what was ahead, all I could do was appreciate the present moment. I had no iPhone to distract me. No Internet to take away my Zen. In that moment, surrounded by nature's extreme beauty, I realized that in this time of endless calls and texts and Insta-everything, we think we are connected. But it's a false connectivity. What we often lose is that relationship with the deeper fiber of life. As I drove through the crisp Rockies, the summer morning expanding before me, I knew that this was the real network. This was connection.

Leon Logothetis

Hello silence, my old friend

We live in a world where distraction comes so easily. We spend our days immersed in books, films, series, articles, TED videos, podcasts. So it's easy to lose ourselves. To stop noticing how we are. How we feel. What we're thinking. What we want. Where we are going. Without realising it we are living one day after another immersed a multitude of realities (fictional and otherwise) and we forget to remind ourselves of the big picture. Am I doing something today to ensure I achieve that long, far-away goal I said I'd meet in *insert achievable timescale*? Am I moving forward or am I standing still?

For the last couple of years I've been on a mission to rewire my life, inside and out. I have watched countless TED videos, listened to multiple podcasts and read numerous authors on a plethora of topics, from lifehacks for your kitchen to productivity, to dealing with past trauma, to being a better partner, to pretty much anything remotely related to personal development.

I listen to podcasts on my walk to work, I read books on the bus, I work, I leave work and repeat the same process and then on my free time what do I do? I read fiction and watch films and series. And this left me wondering: where am I in the middle of all this? Where is my voice?

In a world that has grown so loud I have forgotten the importance of silence. Of standing still. Of being in the moment. Of not worrying about all I still have to do, or fretting over what I am doing. Of being enough. 

All those articles have been paramount to all the changes I have made in my life and for that I am grateful. But when I open my mouth I want to be sure the words that come out are truly my own. Things I matured myself and not half empty words from someone marooned and lost within my head. So I am making an effort to take a step back from the deluge of information I subject myself to daily.

Yes, I will still read those articles, but I will not binge. I will not spend hours alienated from the world (no matter how engrossing the book!). And I will not torture myself if don't achieve absolutely everything on my daily to-do list simply because I decided to spend some time looking at steam rising from a cup of tea or listening to a good song. Because those things bring me back to the present. I will check up with myself more. I will write more. I will speak more. I will feel more. I will live more.

Do you want to join me?

Thankful Thursday # 28

Here we are again. Of all the changes in my life in the past few years, this weekly thankfulness practice is one of the things that stuck. And here's some of the reasons why:

1. My boyfriend. I love this man to bits and I am so happy and proud to share my life with him.
2. My kindle As a home owner I've come to the painful realisation that books take a lot of space and gather a heck of a lot of dust. So the kindle allows me to buy every book I want without the added space.
3. The cooler weather. I loved the sunny days, but I have missed sleeping comfortably under a duvet.
4. Disposable income. I wouldn't say I splash money, but every now and then I like to buy something without the worry of whether it will impact my finances.
5. The big sleuth. Birmingham is full of bear statues, and I've started collecting selfies with them. Twenty down, one hundred and seventeen to go!
6. Being able to make a conscious choice to be better, every day.
7. Otters. Cute and fluffly and totally able to put a smile on my face.

The life-saving art of gratitude

Today, I woke up to the sound of much rain and wind. It was stupid am (that's the official time), and I had set my alarm clock to go to the gym before work. I pondered not going. The weather was terrible; very wet, very windy, cloudy and cold.

And as I sat on the sofa, drinking my morning coffee in my pajamas and debating whether to get dressed in gym clothes or work clothes, I felt this wave of gratitude wash over me. I have been practising gratitude for a few years now and it has truly transformed my life and how my senses take on the Universe around me. Gratitude has reshaped my mind and has given me a new trust in the world and all the good and kindness within it. Because as I was mulling over to workout or not to workout, my gratitude muscles kicked in and this is what I knew:

I was grateful for the warm, comfy bed where I had rested, and which would be waiting for me at the end of the day.

I was grateful that I had a gym to workout in, instead of having to run outside in the rain.

I was grateful for the warm shower I would have in the gym before work.

I was grateful for being dry again after bracing the weather.

I was grateful for the raindrops that would fall on my bare legs and would wake me up to the new day.

I was grateful for the not so glamorous weather that allowed me to concentrate on my book instead of gazing out the bus window.

I was grateful for the almost empty gym.

I was grateful for many, many things. All still from the comfort of my sofa. Because I have learned to believe that there are many things to be grateful for, even if I haven't experienced them yet. I could close my eyes and feel all the items listed above and how good they would feel. I left the house with a smile on my face as I made my way to the gym.

Because happiness waits for no man (or woman). And I certainly am not going to pen myself waiting for the rain to pass. So I learn to brace the weather and find joy where I can. And turns out that's pretty much anywhere.

Stories our bodies tell

So a few days ago I had a (very thorough) health check thanks to this scheme from work. For the hypochondriac in me, it was heaven because it just gave me the peace of mind I crave. So for about three hours I did blood and urine tests, I got an ECG, I had my spine scanned, my lung capacity tested, body measurements taken, I had my ability to cope with stress tested, amongst other things.

The thing that struck me about half way there was to see how my past showed on all the tests and scans. Beyond everything I inherited through my DNA and the lifestyle I chose to maintain or change, I could clearly see the physical markings of my past on those tests. How my years of singing have affected and reshaped my lung capacity, how the short and irregular yoga sessions have stretched my spine flexibility, how more than a decade of dancing has impacted my muscle resistance and responses. I could see, black on white, how the changes I made in terms of diet and exercise over the last 18 months have made my body ten years younger. And I would see how those seemingly innocuous meditation practices have given me a completely new and abnormal control of my stress levels.

I've read it multiples (over a plethora of forums) that over the course of seven years your body replaces every single cell that makes you you. This means that we are literally completely new people from the individuals we were seven years ago. Everything changes over time. In fact, change is the essence of life. And I love my body for embracing it. I really, really do.

Despite how stubborn and pig-headed I can be sometimes, despite how scarred I've been and the amount of emotional baggage I've carried over the years, my body keeps embracing change. Like it's nothing, as if it's this effortless thing. My body teaches me hope. It shows me how the little things I do today can help reshape the person I will be tomorrow. So I choose to shine today, not just for my sake, but for my tomorrow self.

Bring it on.

Power to the people

Many, many years ago there lived an old lady in my aunt's building. One day the old lady knocked on my aunt's door saying her washing machine was broken and would my aunt mind if she used her washing machine until hers was repaired. Being the good Christian and generally nice person that she is, my aunt said yes, and so the old lady started to come over about once a week with her laundry, and while she waited to the washing cycle to finish they would chat. This went on for a while, and a few months later the old lady passed away. When her house was emptied amongst other belongings there was a washing machine in perfect condition. It was then that my aunt learned that the old lady never needed to use her washing machine; she was simply lonely and that time she spent doing her laundry at my aunts was probably the only decent human interaction she had.

And this makes me think. How many of us are lonely out there? How many - especially in older generations - are ashamed to admit they need a bit of human contact? And how oblivious are we to other people's plight, simply because we dig ourselves too deep into our own lives? Our busy, multitasking existence? Are our glowing screens (those magical instruments that allow us to connect with the world) keeping us from looking eye to eye? From actually seeing what's around us, and more importantly, who's around us? From touching people. Is our constant typing and scrolling keeping us from holding a loved one? From running our fingers through their hair. From actually being there, totally there.

Today as I got comfortable on the bus seat and I grabbed my phone, ready to immerse myself in some video or other, I realised that if I did connect to the web, I would disconnect from the world around me, and I wasn't okay with that. I would miss the sunrise from the top of the A34. I would miss seeing the world awakening around me. I would not see the usual people I see on my commute (the Russian lady with her energy drink, the bloke with a Portugal cap, the executive with his Harry Potter socks). I would drive people away that might otherwise engage me in a morning chat. So I didn't. Today there were no videos, no readings, no games, no quizzes, nothing! Just my eyes taking in the world and my ears welcoming the people. Today was a good day.

Thankful Thursday # 27

Today I am cranky. I am tired and moody and this muggy weather isn't helping. All of these are perfectly good reasons for me to do this again, so here we go!

1. My boyfriend. By far my favourite person in the whole Universe, and I'm the lucky gal to spend my life with him.
2. Lack of rain. The forecast for today said we were due a rainy afternoon. Having forgotten my umbrella at home, I was very pleased to get home safe and dry.
3. Gung-ho! A week ago I ran my very first 5k. With inflatable obstacles, obviously! It was amazing and to this day I'm buzzing with the sense of achievement.
4. Surviving fresh pastries. On my daily commute I pass by a variety of supermarkets and coffee places right when their pastries are fresh out of the oven. I am showered with a feeling of badassery (yes, that's a word!) every morning when I manage to ignore that almost irresistible smell.
5. Push-ups. Yesterday I came to realise that I can do grown up push-ups (meaning the normal way, as opposed to doing it on my knees). This is the very first time in my whole life when I've managed this.
6. An abundance of books. I love that conundrum of finishing a book and having way too many to choose from for my next read. I am very, very privileged.
7. Going to bed when we please. We are a young, vibrant couple with no dependants or commitments, which means having the freedom to get home, put on our pajamas and have an early night. Bliss.
8. My otter pajama. Not explanation needed.

These chains are made for breakin'

Sometime this week while listening to my morning podcasts I came across an interesting post. It went something like this: when a baby elephant starts being domesticated he is bound with a metal chain on his ankle. This chain is secured to the floor by a wooden peg. At first the baby elephant will pull and pull and fight to free himself. As he learns that the chain cannot be broken, he stops resisting. Fast forward to when the elephant is a fully grown adult and the chain is reintroduced. Despite the fact that the mighty elephant could easily break the chain with a pull, he won't even try. Because he has learned that the chain cannot be broken. He is one of the most powerful animals to walk the Earth, and he keeps himself strapped to a puny chain because he can't see his circumstances have changed dramatically.

The post went on to talk about self-limiting beliefs and how most of our own limitations are in our head. They've been put there by our past experiences, by what we've been told, by what we've come to believe. And it all rang so true to me.

I am a couch potato at heart (I love spending time knitting and watching films, could do it for days on end), but that doesn't define me and it most certainly doesn't keep me from doing new things, from going out and exploring. I am scared of heights, but that fear doesn't own me. It isn't something carved in stone and set for life. These are things (like most things that) I can fight back. 

In the last couple of years I may not have changed much of how I speak about myself, and yet sometimes just a single word can make a world of difference. In past couple of years I've changed from saying "I am afraid of heights" to "I am currently afraid of heights". I went from saying "I can't run 5k" to "I can't run 5k yet".

And so today I completed my first 5k run. With inflatable obstacles. One of them a climbing wall. After listening to that particular podcast again, I made sure I jumped into every obstacle before my mind had a chance to evoke my fears. I could fall down. I could slip. I could hurt myself. I could make myself a fool in front of everyone. And so I ran and I jumped and I had the most fun my body's had in ages. Today I was playful and I was fearless, not because I didn't have any fears, but simply because I literally ran away from them.

And now I know I can. Now my chain is broken. And I vow to carry on breaking many more chains. Challenging myself. Becoming better that who I was yesterday. I've learned that all my chains are temporary, and in time I'll break 'em all and I'll run free.

PS: Want to read the full post I mentioned? Visit:

http://www.marcandangel.com/2013/09/02/5-things-you-should-know-about-letting-go/ 

Trust the world

It doesn't matter how many and how efficient my coping mechanisms are. There are days when I won't be able to fix myself. When I'll be cranky, moody, sad, disenchanted, low on motivation. And that's okay. Those are the days when all I want to do is to curl up in a ball and not budge from the sofa until it's time to drag myself to bed and not budge from there.

On those days I've learned to do the exact opposite. To trust that the world can heal me. The place I used to think of as unsafe, the place I used to run away from - yes, that place! It can heal me.

If you're not the best person to take care of you, then it stands to reason that getting out of yourself would be the best thing to make you feel better.

Sometimes it's going for a run when you don't feel like moving.

Sometimes it's opening your contact list and catching up with someone you haven't spoken to in a while or noticing an exciting new restaurant.

Sometimes it's starting a conversation with someone as you wait for the bus, or even just opening the door to a stranger.

Whatever it is, I open myself to however the Universe decides to surprise me. There is kindness and wonder out there. If you can't find it within, go look outside.

We live in a wonderful world that is full of beauty, charm and adventure. There is no end to the adventures that we can have if only we seek them with our eyes open.

Jawaharlal Nehru

Adventure time

I just came back from a holiday in Cornwall. We went especially for the Eden Project and spent the rest of the time hopping around from village to village. Today is my last day before returning to work and the weather is lovely outside. And this is what this post is all about. Outside.

I was not an adventurous child. I was a stay indoors by the books and television type of person. From a very early age I came to perceive the world as a scary place. You could fall down and hurt yourself. You could get robbed. People could be mean to you. You could get lost. The perils were endless. And so I stayed indoors, where it was safe.

Now as a functioning adult I came to accept and love the fact that I am a bookish person. A film fan. I love indoor activities from the comfort of my home.

But somehow, thanks to a consistent effort to make small changes in my life, I find that my views have changed. Throughout the past year I have immersed myself in books, TED videos, podcasts, meditation sessions and films that have inspired to be the person I am today.

The world is a playground. You know that when you're a kid, but somewhere along the way everyone forgets it.

That's from the Jim Carrey film Yes Man. I spoke about it in a post from last year (that you can see here). I don't think the world was never my playground. Rather it was a succession of death traps and broken hearts. But not anymore.

Now I am yearning to go. To go outside, run, explore, find a new pub with a beer garden, drive somewhere new, open my laptop and find a new destination, book a romantic getaway, find a trail outdoors, go (indoor) rock climbing. Let me write that again - the person who is scared of heights wants to go (indoor) rock climbing. The person who's afraid of hurting herself and getting lost wants to do a trail somewhere in English countryside.  

The world is a vibrant, wonderful place full of possibilities. And I am - finally! - all for adventure.