One of the Hollywood actresses that I profiled for my Sewing Circle article was a woman named Marguerite Clark. Her story involved so many unlikely coincidences that I decided a closer examination was required. Marguerite Clark was second only to Mary Pickford in popularity during the silent film era. That level of fame only comes […]
via A Crashing Success — Piece of Mindful
Hey Ya Sark! We rode our bicycles around Sark on Sunday. Cycling 3 weeks after umbelical repair surgery (with stitches, not a mesh) was good. I borrowed a three-wheeler! The banter from people along the way around the island was a beaut! I love talking to strangers. Delicious and delightful encounters on a tiny island (that’s closer to France than the United Kingdom) is a beautiful Sunday pursuit! We had a pit stop at the Sablonnerie Tea Gardens for lunch, a choglud stop at Caragh Chocolats and tea at A.J’s Cafe. I was pooped at the end of the day and I’m at the itchy, uncomfortable/irritable healing stage now, on the surface and what lies beneath the raspberry pink incision scar is talking at me. With my history of self-harm it would have been nice to be told that the wound could trigger a relapse – it didn’t but I felt the jolt of having a large, deep scar on my body to deal with. Thoughts and feelings flooded back to me during the early dark days of recovery. I was watching ‘The Affair’ and having woozy, unreachable feelings of self-harm return through episode 2 or 3 and then bam, a trigger as the main protagonist self-harms on a beach without any care or warning for the viewer. Watching ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’ comes with a warning and a prompt that there is support available. I heart that a lot! There are so many weak points in the fabric of our existence. To be left with a dirty great scar in the middle of my belly, having survived and overcome a decade of debilitating self-harm, tells me about a lack of care and understanding for old pain and old wounds. Lucky for me there are brilliant counsellors and alternative therapists in Guernsey who can tap into that pain, and safely work it out!
Back to feeling through fear, as of late. I’ve definitely got unseen clumps of mom’s spaghetti on my sweater, shoe-laces, and in my hair. It’s all up inside of me like how the Mighty Boosh sang about EELS! Today I got spiritually rinsed. It was cosmic, magical.
Being in post umbelical-hernia repair recovery I have been walking and listening to Gabrielle Bernstein’s ‘The Universe Has Your Back.’ And letting fear percolate and ruminate through my bones, joints and ligaments as they heat up the farther I go.
I tried some Cannawell Hemp yesterday – oooh it took me right back to not yet being twenty at university!! Wowsers. Very good for fear and anxiety, in moderation. I loved the experience! I ended the day with a magnesium salt bath and a lemon oil massage! Bliss. I also felt inspired to make some green tea matcha protein balls using the contents of the kitchen cupboards (shelled hemp, coconut oil, hemp powder, matcha green tea, japanese yuzu juice, milled chia seeds, milled almond):
What happens we we experience fear? What happens when our subconscious is playing old fear movies and records, over and over again, endlessly? Science knows! Fear is my Shawshank and I’m learning how to escape !! Before I can get out, I need to reach it’s roots and feel it through. I no longer self-harm, I no longer throw up after food, I no longer hold self-destructive financial habits but I do overeat. I feel the connection to fear with that, that’s my truth right now and I am willing to see it through, down the mountain, around the rivers and through the esturay into the spiritual sea!
I read ‘The Tattooist of Auschwitz’ by Heather Morris and cried my sad, sorry heart out at the end – this could be one of the best love stories I have read recently.
This article is just my opinion based on the lifestyles of the subjects profiled. “Sewing Circle” is a phrase used to describe the underground, closeted lesbian and bisexual film actresses of Hollywood, particularly during Hollywood’s golden age from the 1910s to the 1950s. The actress Alla Nazimova (godmother of former first lady Nancy Reagan) was […]
via The Sewing Circle – (Part 1) — Piece of Mindful
Listening to Dr Chatterjee’s podcasts and walking on the treadmill for my hernia surgery recovery has been good today, I’m very grateful for the resource. I could feel myself “yeeaaah uuuuhhh-huuuuuhhhh” my way through this podcast about my lady hormones, and I’m interested in the gut microbiome conversation that runs seamlessly through all of Dr Chatterjee’s podcasts.
Overcoming emotional over-eating with aesthetically delightful food prep can be wonderful.
129/730 pages; Life goals are important!
“Make the decision to track your fear, to turn from prey to predator. When you become the hunter, you create new opportunities for grace and growth. Once you choose to walk the Brave-Hearted Path, you can begin to let go of the old stories that have chained you to your past and move into an exciting unknown: the unchartered territory of your future.” (Ana. T. Forest, Fierce Medicine).
A few years ago Juliette Lewis shared a photo of ‘Fierce Medicine’ and my own copy came to me soon after. I loved that influence and inspiration, I love the comfort and kindess of strangers who share things freely, without the narcissistic need to leave a damning review or fierce criticism that can often be just a reflection of their own wretchedness.
I have recently had surgery for a hernia, along with the tooth implant, and the Spring Equinox detox, it’s been a year of rest, recovery and healing! I hope to come back into the ring fighting fit once my abdominal wall is strong like a tiger! Aggh. Just before the tooth issues kicked off and again, just before the surgery for the hernia, I went back to stalking my fear and feeling it out, tugging on the tangled, tumultous and tattooed roots. I was playing with Forest’s recommendations to go into ‘fearsanas’. I was playing around with downward dogs against the wall, Camel pose, and going deeper into pigeon. I have packed a lot of fear into my thighs and hips, as of late, being immersed in the toxic stress of a corporate takeover/heist. During the fretful changing scenarios at the office, late last year, I noticed that my body odour was becoming an issue – a real issue! I was stinking. My armpits were giving out an obnoxious odour and on reflection I think this was because of how afraid and scared I was, and how badly I was ignoring this fear and trying to carry on regardless. You cannot ignore fear, it’s not something you can just leave behind like a greedily completed book on a train seat. I had to switch up my natural deodorants – aloe/tea tree combos were the winner. And quitting red meat was a huge turning point too – now the odd chicken breast will trigger smelly pits again! I don’t wish to swallow another animal’s fear for dinner when I am overwhelmed and sick with my own. My brilliant armpits were raising the alarm, “fear has a primal purpose to protect us” (Fierce Medicine, p20). I’m more aware now of where fear manifests and happens in my body – my guts hit the floor, my jelly legs wobble and shake, and you could toast crumpets in my hot-sweaty armpits (in that exact order!). Working on releasing the fear, with the breath, on the yoga mat, that is trapped within, is divine! It’s a magical journey towards spiritual enlightenment, freedom and release, that goes round and round
https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2009/nov/22/this-much-i-know-juliette-lewis
Yesterday a child came out to wonder
Caught a dragonfly inside a jar
Fearful when the sky was full of thunder
And tearful at the falling of a starThen the child moved ten times round the seasons
Skated over ten clear frozen streams
Words like when you’re older must appease him
And promises of someday make his dreamsAnd the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return we can only look
Behind from where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game (Joni Mitchell)
I know that I wear my self-harm scars without shame but I am still afraid to show them in public, however hard my crayola bright tattoos camouflague my grooves and keloid slivers, the fear of discovery and the ill-gotten shame of my teenage affliction lingers on. Sometimes I feel like Joan of Arc, always crusading for the perfect lightweight, long, languid summer dress to wear-out in the heat, without fear or shame, hearing all of the voices in my head tell me to go long-sleeved or go-home. I find it hard to feel comfortable with too much skin on display, for fear of people seeing right through me, and fear of suddenly being unable to explain the scars in a swift nut shell. . . Give me long, floaty cheesecloth kaftans, steely-cool linen sleeves and iridescent swishy fabrics that blur and distort the mess on my skin, and keep me cool in the sunshine because I won’t be able to peel off any of those delicious, crisp layers. I ordered this dress from Toast and hope that I don’t look as repressed as I feel, trapped in long layers, wrapped in below-the-knee cotton chambray. Winter is easy. Summer always brings fresh tears of frustration and fraudent self-esteem.
