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lunasaturnine · 3 years

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What would musicology look like? Would it look like lots of memes? Lol.

The purpose of this post was to be excited about the Future but where did all those thoughts go?

Just to let myself wander and dream…

During my wisdom a few days ago it became apparent that I AM a MUSICOLOGIST since whenever I stop doing things, musicology is what I start doing. Even if I do end up playing as well, I always have to study the music first or else I’m unhappy. Playing isn’t the first thing I want to do. I understand playing is very important, but it’s a means to an end and performance isn’t super interesting to me.

On the other hand, when I do perform well, I change people’s lives, so idk haha Can I be a musicologist for performers? Yes I absolutely can. The disconnect between understanding of music and performance of music is baffling to me.

What if I get there by staying on the same road I’m on, with my studio? They are so fun and I feel so empowered by my training.

I feel a lack in my life because I am not employed by a university. I do not have the special relationship with students, of handing down sacred knowledge, that my professors had with me. That yearning in my heart has been covered up by several things: my trauma with grad school, professors bitching about how they don’t like any of their students except me and my Franz, and general intimidation by the red tape of university, and pressure to balance teaching and researching. Plus, the general fear of narrowing down anything, because it means acknowledging all the things I will Never Be…

That’s not true though. I am having a more sensual relationship with… the… invisible world hahaha. I had a moment of holism, whatever u want to call it, washing the dish last night, realizing everything was connected, realizing washing the dish was partaking in every thing that I want in the world. It seems like a profound understanding, that I’ve fought for? Or grown towards, determinedly and without guidance, my whole life. It also seems like it’s a necessary precursor to enjoying literally anything about life.

How does the fact that everything is a part of everything else influence my general anxiety about career and the future? It can really soothe all kinds of anxieties if I invite it to do so. Here I invite it….

Mmm

Every single dream I have, every single reality I want, I can touch in every moment. I can lift the cup to my mouth in a way that makes everything impossible or a way that makes everything possible anD FULL OF GLITTER. Wow. That’s… different. I feel the reality of that, more so than I did just two or three days ago. WOW!

So I should dream. Well. When I don’t feel capable of many things, my dreams all feel bad and I send them away. But once I loved music with everything I had, and I studied it so much that I became fluent in its languages and qualified to be a cultural leader. Can I be a Cultural leader? I think I can, but only if I am inspired, which… I don’t necessarily feel right now. What I feel inspired about is the community-building aspects of music, more so than the intrinsic ones. Hmm… I’m really interested in the idea that music can be playable WELL by people of multiple skill levels. I’m really inspired by my little orchestra, of my students, and their joy and beauty and radiance. That whole thing was so wished-for.

This is still music and it’s still the little details that made music so interesting to me, but applied on a different scale. For instance, emphasizing the downbeats of Nun Ska Vi Skorda Linet Idag rather than creating a whole harmony line is brilliant… not in the sense that it’s inaccessible knowledge or no other person could have come up with it, but it is not necessarily the most direct approach, and it is inspired and correct. Even in this less elite atmosphere, I still have access to the kind of brilliance that improves people’s lives. And it’s accessible.

Hey!!! That makes me feel really good.

Here are degrees I might want to get:

A DMA at McGill

HEY! I just got an email from that guy. Looks like he’s chamber music AND orchestral studies too. Hahhaha

Well that could be cool! I could also get some kind of master’s in musicology from somewhere… in Edinburgh…

I feel less intimidated by the name of degrees, because I think of my grandfather, a very empowered and well-regarded herpetologist, whose degrees were in entomology. It’s okay to be a generalist, as long as you feel empowered to do your work. That’s what I’ve been lacking, that sense of empowerment, dignity, ability. Is that what I’ve been gathering in this second half of my twenties? Let’s say so. Hahaha

Well honestly, it has been good to DO things. To have a structure that isn’t exactly someone else’s (except my students’). It’s shown me that I am capable and smart and innovative. Hmm.

Okay this is a nice self-esteem post. McGill has always felt resonant to me. I would have to learn French, which I am opposed to on many levels. Harrumph

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kingspoetrysoc · 3 years

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Interview with Konstantinos Pappis

Konstantinos Pappis is a poet and King’s alumnus who studied Strategic Entrepreneurship and Innovation for his Master’s. He shares his blackout poems on Tumblr @blackout-diary and on Instagram @blackout_diary, and is the Music Editor at Our Culture. The King’s Poet’s Karen Ng talks to Konstantinos about his poetic experiences, process, and inspirations.

What is your earliest memory of poetry?

Like many people, my earliest memories of poetry are associated with school, where I felt pretty alienated by the way we approached poetry. It felt cold and analytical and I struggled to connect with it on a personal level – or perhaps there was less of a need to at that age. Although there were some Greek poets we studied in school whose work I remember liking, including C.P. Cavafy, Kostas Karyotakis, and Odysseas Elitis, it wasn't until later during my adolescence when I started discovering poetry outside of an academic context that I was able to appreciate it more. Things really started to change when I was introduced to English and American poets; for some reason, something about it not being in my native language made it easier to engage with and relate to. And then eventually I was able to approach different kinds of poetry from both an intellectual and an emotional standpoint.

How did you first realise you wanted to write poetry? What do you enjoy the most about writing?

In a word, Tumblr (RIP). But honestly, finding a community of people who used poetry as a form of expression more than anything else inspired me to do the same. I realised it wasn’t this inaccessible, overly sophisticated thing that you had to be especially clever or well-read to really get. Again, if you weren’t doing it to get a good grade, it was considered a bit weird to engage with poetry in any way, so seeing it outside of that context was pretty eye-opening.

It was also something that came with realising I had a passion for the arts in general. Music had always been my primary outlet, but poetry took over when I felt I needed the words to have more space on their own – to jump out on the page and release all the teenage angst I was going through, because listening to Creep every day somehow wasn’t enough. None of that poetry was any good, of course, but it was vital. And when I felt like this really personal thing was something I could share and exchange with friends, writing also became an important part of embracing vulnerability and forming close connections, too. I came to enjoy it more as a medium than an art form, in a way – at first, at least.

In terms of what I enjoy about it now… Well, it’s hard to articulate, but if we’re talking about writing poetry specifically, I guess the appeal hasn’t changed all that much. It’s been a while since I’ve felt inspired to write a poem, but in the past it’s always been when I felt like I need to channel something that I couldn’t through any other form. Some might view the poetic form as being kind of limiting, but I feel like it’s quite the opposite – it’s almost freeing in the endless possibilities that it presents.

Above: a blackout poem by Konstantinos. The source text is “Moon” by @makingthingswrite on Instagram.

You’ve written a lot of amazing blackout poems! What about this form appeals the most to you?

Blackout poetry appeals to me for almost entirely different reasons. I treat it more like a mental exercise that can be both calming and stimulating; something that operates on a more subconscious level. I like that I don’t have to be particularly inspired to do it, not even by the text that I’m using. I like that it doesn’t necessarily have to make sense, that I don’t have to stress over the final result too much. I like that it can then inspire me to make something else. I like the visual aspect of it, the act of repurposing something and giving it new meaning not just by altering the text but also its surroundings. Of course, people can make blackout poetry in a much more intentional way, but what sets it apart for me is that it’s a creative outlet that can be simple and almost passive yet gratifying at the same time.

How do you select a text for your blackout poems – where do you look? What do you look for?

It really varies: sometimes I’ll take photos from a book – I used to do blackout on old books nobody would ever open, but I switched to doing everything digitally – and sometimes I’ll search for poems or articles randomly online. Reviews often work quite well. There does have to be something about the text that sticks out to me for me to use it as a source, but I tend not to overthink it.

I love that – inspiration is everywhere in our daily lives, even when we aren’t looking for it! Can you tell us a little about your writing process? Is it more emotion-led or methodical?

For blackout it’s entirely intuitive. For poetry in general I would say it’s almost always emotion-led, but the editing part can be more methodical. Normally, a lot of it happens late at night when I can’t sleep, and if I can’t sleep long enough for me to write things down and it doesn’t strike me as absolutely terrible in the morning, then it might turn into a poem.

Above: a blackout poem by Konstantinos. The source text is Sam Sodomsky’s review of duendita’s song “Open Eyes”. Your poem pebble (an ode) was one of the first poems to be published in our magazine. It isn’t a blackout poem, but could you tell us a little about it too – do you remember what it was like writing it?

See above re: late-night thoughts and the utter absurdity of the human condition!

How has your experience of sharing your poetry to Instagram been? Are there any tips you could share with our readers?

I haven’t done it in a year, partly due to a lack of inspiration and partly because I’ve tried to distance myself from Instagram and other social media platforms as much as I can – though maybe I’ll go back to Tumblr? But my experiences with the Instagram writing community have been nothing but great – I participated in Escapril back in April of last year, a yearly event founded by Savannah Brown, that encourages users to write and share a poem a day based on a prompt. It was a really great and fun challenge that helped me write and read more and connect with other poets. I would say participating in these kinds of communities is probably the best way to utilise the platform.

Thank you for that advice! On a similar note, which poets and poems inspire you the most? These could include childhood inspirations… Have your influences changed over the years?

I would not be the person I am nor would I have any interest in poetry if it weren’t for Sylvia Plath. I can’t even pinpoint exactly when I first encountered her work, but I identified with it to an almost unhealthy degree as a teenager, as I’m sure many people have. I still get that feeling whenever I revisit her poetry or read more about her life and art. Also, a lot of spoken word videos from people like Sarah Kay really resonated with me at a young age.

More recently, the closest I’ve gotten to that feeling of being deeply excited and inspired by poetry was when I discovered Savannah Brown’s work a couple of years ago. Her spoken word videos and poetry films really moved me, and her second poetry collection – which came out last year – is absolutely incredible (I wrote about it here). Lately I’ve also been listening to a lot of musicians whose work intersects with poetry, including Cassandra Jenkins and Anika Pyle, whose most recent albums reckon with grief and loss in a really powerful way.

Above: a blackout poem by Konstantinos. The source text is Christopher Gilbert’s poem “Fire Gotten Brighter”. Are there any styles besides blackout which you particularly love, or themes? Are there any topics you gravitate towards?

I’ve always gravitated towards confessional poetry, both in terms of what I tend to write and what I like to read. Something most of the writers I’ve mentioned have in common is that they use intimate language to evoke a deep yearning for connection, in the face of existential dread and the unfathomable vastness of the cosmos. That usually does the trick!

Have any experiences at King’s Poetry Society or King’s in general – events, classes, readings, people you’ve met, or London itself – been particularly memorable, or inspired you? Can you tell us a little about them?

Absolutely. Just being in London, not even necessarily the experiences I had there, made me want to write more poetry than I had in a long time. There’s a Savannah Brown video essay on YouTube where she talks about passing a billion people on the street – obviously in the before times – and being like, “Who are all of you people? Could I care for you? How many of you idiots could I love?” That’s basically the gist of what had been stirring in me for a long time and that I still think about to this day. And then being a part of King’s Poetry Society was an opportunity for me to try and channel that, and engage in an actual physical writing community in a way I never had before. I literally read a poem inspired by that video during one of our poetry reading events – that will certainly stay with me.

Above: Konstantinos’ poem “doors on the underground”. He read this poem at one of the 2019-20 King’s Poetry Society critique sessions.

How important do you think writing communities are, in fostering “better” writing? In your experience, is writing helped by discussion?

I think they’re incredibly important, not just in fostering “better” writing but also fostering a space for vulnerability. Poetry can be an intensely private form of writing, but so much can be gained from discussing it, especially if one is looking to not only hone their craft but also learn from and connect with others. Us writers can be especially introverted people (hi!), and may be discouraged by the long stretches of silence that can pervade a poetry meeting, but there’s power in hearing the words you or someone else has written out loud. Even a single comment can completely change a way you think about a poem.

What do you think the value of reading poetry is? Can a poem profoundly change someone’s life? Conversely, can someone read a poem and be unaffected – and if this happens, has a poet “failed”?

I think Marianne Moore sums it up pretty well in her poem Poetry, where she talks about finding in it “a place for the genuine.” As for the second question, poetry can definitely change someone’s life – not to be corny or anything, but like all art, it can also save someone’s life.

That said, I don’t think a poet has failed if the reader feels emotionally unaffected by their work. Sometimes, a writer may wish to portray an event or theme in a cold and unaffecting manner to get a certain point across. There’s value in that type of poetry, too, and art’s inherent subjectivity means that someone might be moved by a poem that someone else feels indifferent towards. There’s also value in poetry that is private and not meant to be shared, because even if only one person derives something from it, then it is valuable. I do think, however, that the further one strays from that ideal of earnestness, the closer the work hinges on being trivial or pretentious. We’ve moved past the need to be overly cynical or ironic.

I agree, poetry that is never shared is not lesser by any means – I find great personal value in treating a poem like a diary of sorts. Maybe each stanza mimics a different entry... With all that you feel manifesting into this thing that is at once completely attached to your experience but also – if shared – something that becomes detached and open to reinterpretation... That is really powerful. How do you think people who have never written before could be encouraged to start writing for themselves, whether for fun or as catharsis – without the pressures of becoming someone recognised or followed?

I really like that approach! I think the diaristic style of writing is often looked down upon as less legitimate, even though it isn’t. To answer your question, I think normalising the act of writing poetry purely for enjoyment or as a form of catharsis is really important, especially from a young age. Part of that could be achieved by exposing young people to more than what one might call the poetic canon. Being disappointed that a student isn’t engaging with poetry when they’ve only been introduced to Shakespeare is like assuming someone isn’t musically inclined when they’ve only been exposed to a single genre of music. Another way would be to incorporate more writing activities that utilise the poetic form, and allow the freedom to explore it outside the confines of academic study. I’m not saying all teachers should follow the example of Dead Poets Society, but there are so many ways to foster creativity and make poetry more approachable.

Do you think poetry is sometimes perceived as an inaccessible art?

100%. I think that’s the biggest problem with how poetry is perceived. A lot of it comes down to the way poetry has been taught and disseminated for centuries – through a lens that is inherently exclusionary, upheld by systems that are classist, racist, sexist, etc. Hopefully that is starting to change – studies have shown that more and more young people read and write poetry, largely thanks to the rise of social media poetry. Poetry can represent such a wide range of experiences, but for people to view it as an accessible art form, more barriers need to be broken. Amanda Gorman becoming the youngest inaugural poet in American history, and the first Black poet ever to perform at the Super Bowl this year alone is certainly a huge sign of progress.

Do you have a favourite literary journal, or a poetry platform you would like to recommend? What have you been reading lately?

Subscribing to the Poetry Foundation and the Academy of American Poets’ poem-a-day newsletters has been a great way of keeping poetry in my everyday life. Recently, I’ve also been loving a podcast called Poetry Unbound, where each 10-15 minute episode immerses you into a single poem. On YouTube, I love Ours Poetica, a video series curated by poet Paige Lewis in collaboration with the Poetry Foundation that features readings of poems by writers, artists, and actors – including John Green reading Moore’s Poetry and Savannah Brown reading her poem the universe may stop expanding in five billion years. It offers a truly intimate and approachable way of experiencing poetry.

Above: Konstantinos’ poem “lonely little london”.

Is it important to you to read a wide variety of poetry, from different communities and on different subjects? Do you think it’s important for poets to write about things beyond their immediate world?

That’s probably the biggest shift that has happened since I first got into poetry – realising how important it is to read widely. I was mostly drawn to poetry that reflected my own limited experience, but now more than ever I find it vital to immerse myself in different points of view, especially from underrepresented or marginalised groups. I now see poetry less as a means of personal expression than a form of empathy, and because of that I’m able to gain so much more from it. That said, I don’t think it’s necessary for poets to write about things that aren’t part of their immediate world. It depends on one’s goals and ambitions, but there’s already so much that’s unique about a person’s immediate world – things that are reflected in society at large – that being forced to write outside of it can often lead to work that feels hollow and insincere, or even insensitive. That doesn’t mean it has to be limiting – the beauty of poetry is that you can write about your immediate world but not necessarily through it.

Lastly… Do you think a poet is born a poet, or made into one? Which is more important: natural talent, or practice and growth? Can anyone become a poet? If everyone has it in them, do you think anyone who puts their mind to it can produce meaningful work – since, of course, all work is meaningful in one way or another, whether privately or publicly?

This is a slightly tricky question to answer, because either way it could imply that only some are afforded the privilege of becoming poets. If a small percentage of people are born poets, then of course that means everyone else is inherently excluded; if one is made into a poet, then only those who are able to cultivate any artistic inclinations will have the opportunity of fulfilling their potential. Most people will say the truth, as always, is somewhere in the middle, that it’s some complicated combination of the two. But I feel it’s much simpler than that – when you boil it down, really, everyone is born a poet.

#Konstantinos Pappis #interviewer: Karen Ng #Interviews #king's poetry society

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rickktish · 5 years

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Do you ever just...

look at the stuff you know you can never publish without somebody saying “kinky” and turning it into a fetish thing, even though it’s really not a fetish thing at all, and feel sad?

There’s stuff I know I will never be able to share with anyone because it reads as being super kinky. It’s not kinky. It’s world-buildy. But other people don’t think how I think, other people don’t look at things the way I look at them, and other people don’t have the opinions I have.

I just... I yearn for a platform where I can share something without being afraid of accidentally making someone uncomfortable because of what they think is a sex thing when I don’t view it as a sex thing. I yearn for a society where I can share something creative without having to worry about social issues and opinions and pushing everyone’s triggers by describing the human body.

Today I was scrolling through one of my favorite tags and found someone crying for everyone to unfollow someone else because they supposedly drew child pornography and fetishized trans people. Except that nothing in their argument actually looked like there was any porn or fetishization occurring whatsoever, so I decided to explore the person being defamed myself. And you know what? I just read one of the most beautiful, heartwarming fan comics I’ve ever seen, with a masterfully organized story and wonderfully done EVERYTHING and I loved it to bits and it takes place in a fantasy world which the author of the original work outlined but (as far as I’m aware) never fully fleshed out. One of the characters is shirtless as originally drawn by the author of the original work. The (cisfem) fan artist headcanons this character as trans, and states in her explanation of the story that she spent a long time debating how to incorporate that into her work, and ultimately decided that the character shouldn’t be forced to have recieved top surgery in a medieval setting or to change his outfit in order to “qualify” to be trans. So she draws him throughout the entire comic series, which is at least a hundred posts long and totally worth reading through, as having his breasts exposed when he’s shirtless.

The person who was defaming that artist whose post I initially read was incensed that this cis artist had chosen to depict this character in this way. They held the belief that the artist was sexualizing an underage character and fetishizing his transness by using he/him pronouns for him while exposing his breasts. They argued that the artist clearly hadn’t asked the opinions of any trans people on this matter and ought to be degraded for it.

Except... as a trans man, reading about a trans man who is comfortable enough and free enough in his world to not have to get top surgery or cover up to be accepted was enormously freeing for me. It was incredible to me how accepting literally everyone in the comic was, even to the point of punting me out of my suspension of disbelief several times. Literally no one misgendered this character even once. The only time in-universe that the character’s sex was discussed was for a gag referring to a child he and his partner had accidentally adopted. And the artist’s style is wonderfully unique and simplistic and hardly graphic, to the point that while it was sometimes clear that the character had his breasts exposed, there was never anything uncomfortable or sexual about it. It was literally just another piece of character design, another facet of his apparel reflecting his personality and character. It was glorious, and I revelled in the absolute freedom that this character experienced, that I deeply envied and longed for. (which is not to say that I want to be able to walk around with my chest exposed, because I’m honestly usually not comfortable even in just short sleeves; I prefer to stay well-covered regardless, but the element of acceptance was astounding and deeply moving to me.)

But apparently several people have gone after this artist for “sexualizing” a character and “fetishizing” his transness by not requiring that he “pass.” Not only the person whose discourse initially led me to that artist and their comic, but others as well.

And it makes me sad. Because I write stories about trans men who accept their bodies. I don’t have the experience of a trans woman to feel comfortable writing about that without being afraid of incorrectly portraying that experience, though I’d like to someday try to do that as well in my storytelling. I write stories about trans men who hate their female shape when they’re referred to by female pronouns but can accept and love it when they use male ones-- because that is my experience. I have pages upon pages of journals examining my own perspective, exploring why “she” hates her body and “he” loves his when they are both me and I am both and I have been both but somehow they define my paradigm, my self-view, my world, and I have no answers but I can only write what I know and what I know is taking comfort in accepting my body as it is and my pronouns as they are. This artist, although she is cis and has not experienced what I have, managed to portray that perfectly, and it resonated so deeply with me that I read everything she’s created for that series in a single sitting.

I write about breasts. I write about men with breasts. I write about women with breasts. I write about uncomfortable things, about different perspectives from the norm, about possibilities I have never seen explored.

I write about an A/B/O universe where it’s not about sex, it’s about a society shaped by a biology entirely different to the one which has shaped our own. I write about Dom/Sub/Switch worlds that don’t have a single drop of citrus in them but have a whole lot about what it means to be “safe” and why it matters how much control you hold over your every moment of breath upon this earth. I write about fetishes in a de-fetishized context, because when you get bored enough to read every single fic on a list for a fandom you learn things you never imagined were a thing, and personally when I learn things I start creating.

But I can never post stories I write about trans men who breastfeed their children, not without editing that part of it out. I can never publish stories about people in their earlyi teens who are aware of and formulating opinions on this “sex” thing, because even though American kids are taught the mechanics of sex when they’re twelve and thirteen and fourteen the internet doesn’t want to know that they-- that WE-- think on it and consider what the things we learn mean in an actual, world context. I read an argument recently that boiled down to “don’t headcanon fourteen-year-olds as ace they shouldn’t even be thinking about sex what’s wrong with you” and all I could read was “sure, we TEACH them about sex at that age but they’re not supposed to actually THINK about it” and I don’t think I’ve ever read a more accurate description of the American education system and it burned me, down to my very core.

This got a lot longer than I intended, but I guess all I’m really trying to say is that it makes me sad how pervasive our expectation of sex as a perversion is in this culture. This online culture, this world culture-- we talk and talk and talk about sex and shame those who do or think anything outside the “norm”-- whatever that qualifies as for the two week period you happen to be writing during-- and I don’t think anyone on this fucking hellsite even really understands what sex even is on a fundamental level. I’m sure it sounds insane to anyone outside my own head, but the very first thing we fetishized as humans was sex itself and I kind of really wish we hadn’t done that, because it led to the setting of a billion other rules of what is “normal” in regard to procreative acts and what is “kinky” and what is liable to give the next everyday joe to happen upon the pose a boner.

Sex is an act of procreation. It is an expression between people of an understanding deeper than words can depict, whether that is one of love or one of shared escapism or one of impulsiveness. As soon as it was turned into an act of pure recreation, it became a hot mess that you all can’t help poking at and making weird faces. I have a friend who can’t even stand to listen to a health class discussion of sex because it makes her so deeply uncomfortable and that makes me so fucking sad you have no idea.

I just... I wish the societal view of sex and its relation to the body didn’t exist sometimes. I wish people didn’t think in terms of sex first and ideas after. I wish people could actually be mature for once in their lives and remember that it’s not all about who can get the biggest orgasm from the weirdest shit.

i know other people’s opinions are different from my own. I try really hard to respect them. really hard. But sometimes, when things don’t make sense in my mind, when I see what I’m 98% positive is a better way of looking at an issue, I just... my empathy function shuts down and I jsut want people to listen and think for once in their lives about why they think of sex the way they do. Why they think of anything the way they do, really. But sex especially.

Maybe I just want everyone to be able to compartmentalize the way I can, and I know that’s not reasonable in any way shape or form but it’s 3 am and I’m tired of bullshit and i’m’ sad and i’m angry except I’m not really angry I’m actually just sad. Really, really sad. and kind of hopeless.

#rick's rants #rick's rambles #rick's pissed #rick's tears #sex tw #and you have no idea how frustrating it is to me that I feel like I have to tag that #i'm an awful confused mess of being afraid to step on people's feelings but also being horrified by their closemindedness #i cannot have both and it's kililng me

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kateemmerson · 4 years

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Malaga Momentos - My City of Healing

This is my tribute to a city that held me tight while I grieved a part of my life no longer real or relevant, cried a whole river of tears, let the sun warm my bones and fell in love with me again. Like L’Oreal says …‘cos I’m worth it, baby!

I have lived my entire life believing that certain places call out to my soul. They whisper quietly and then if perhaps I don’t listen timeously, they yell a little louder. It always feels like threads of energy are attached to my heart and they start tugging gently at me. I have never been able to adequately explain it, suffice it to say that I am a gypsy-traveller-nomad at heart, and love to move. Often. I also understand the innate value of a home, a base, and roots, but I have danced and moved between these two extremes all my life.

The way it happens varies – it might be the first time someone utters the name of that place and it feels like the words leave their lips and send a cupid’s arrow straight to my heart; or an image lands on my retina for the first time, or the words jump off the page in a book and just…won’t… let…go…!

Sometimes it’s just a whispering deep inside…that inevitably becomes stronger and stronger. Having traveled alone on a plane at the tender age of 8, that bug bit early. Many times I have literally sold up everything I own in order to make a trip to follow the strings that are pulling the hardest. The yearning that will not quieten down. 4 years ago I even took it a bit further, and as a ‘late-in-my-40’s’ year old, packed up again and went #LocationFree with my business still intact and growing. I have just written about that journey for my 5th book, due for release later this year.

For 4 years I have had no fixed home of my own, simply following the strings pulling at my heart; combining retreats, talks and coaching work around the world – and LOTS of online work, along with many visits of the heart to South Africa. One suitcase and a large armful of dreams. But now, I am finally looking for my next home. A little place to call mine – a nest to return to. Roots to plant and lavender to pick. Listening once again to the stirrings in my heart. I’m also getting clear about where I DON’T want to be, which can pave the way for where I do. There is a very loooong back story as to how I landed up coming to Spain – my business partner Sarah walked a part of the Camino in 2018 and together we decided it would be a spectacular way to combine writing and walking. So we did. Another whole story layered on top of that was that in my personal relationship, Spain seemed like somewhere to explore as a potential home for us in the future.

But where to explore? And where to explore for my heart?

Choosing Malaga was easy. My mama-bear lives in a beautiful retirement village in the UK and I have gotten to know many of her lovely neighbors. Cue a wonderful couple who spends a LOT of time in Spain and own homes here. So I popped across for tea asking for some necessary advice. I was presented with a good old fashioned map and a destination. They know my age, my interests and I just said – “where do you think I should spend the winter to write my book?” “MALAGA!”

“Where?”

“Malaga – you will LOVE it. Lots of culture, museums, history, art, expats, locals, awesome food, warm etc, etc.

“Where? Oh there, on the coast – I see it.”

“But not to the West Kate; Malaga or East.”

Got it. Done. That’s all it takes for me sometimes. A clear directive delivered at the right time. Apparently, many people I know have already been to Malaga, including my parents (and Hemingway of course); but I didn’t know that at the time (in my active brain). Go figure.

So I duly went into my trusted housesitters profile (click link if you want a 25% discount) and started looking for a Malaga based house-sit for the winter. Mmmmalaga. A 2.5 month house-sit for one kitty popped onto my screen. Looks easy peasy. And warm – just like a Durban winter. If you are not from South Africa just think cozy, sunny and warm, a bit like Florida in the winter. Where all the human “swallows” might go in search of thawing out. You just need a light jacket in winter, no serious heating and can soak up plenty of vitamin D.

Well, yes, that beats the dreary UK over the winter, dunnit?

Fast forward – we facilitated the Walk ‘n Write Retreat in Northern Asturias region; my partner doesn’t join me as originally planned; Sarah and I visit Madrid for 4 nights; I plonk Sarah on the plane and then I head South. Alone. I like the way Malaga rolls off my tongue. Sounds exotic – I’m spending winter in Malaga. Tra la la – like I’m some millionairess with a house on the hill. Ha – If only I knew what was in store.

The potential house-sit didn’t pan out, after all, so while in Madrid I had booked 6 weeks in a glorious modern Air B‘nB New York type loft, thinking I could get writers to join me for a residency while I wrote over winter too. Or perhaps friends could pop over from the UK? It was gorgeous and trendy and just a short walk from everything. The morning after I arrived, I walked the 18 minutes across the “dry river” bridge into the historic city center to go and sign up for Spanish Classes. After all, I needed a total immersion if considering living in Spain. I thought it best I scrub up a bit and take the language plunge. Plus it would get me to meet people in a city where I knew literally no one and I could use it with my significant other.

I fell in love. INSTANTLY. Everywhere I looked made me beam from the inside out.

I have three innate questions when visiting a new place: Do I love it? Will I ever come back? Could I live here?

It was an instant YES to all three. It took me by surprise actually. These questions get asked and answered internally for me, without having to actively process them the moment I arrive somewhere. Most places I visit I generally tend to really like, or even love. Some, I definitely know I’ll be back to visit again and then a few grab me and my heart almost instantly. Malaga was an instant cupid moment and it has stayed with me. Four months later, I still absolutely love this city, and I absolutely could live here – but I also have come to realize that Spain is somehow not my next home. It’s a hard one for anyone else to fathom what I am saying – but that is how it feels for ME. It’s been a really interesting concept for me to lean into. I could live in Malaga but not in Spain. Mmm ok – so it’s off the list as a permanent base then.

I am still on the hunt for my next country! How exciting!

Malaga will 100% be a place I return to. It feels like home even though it won’t be my permanent home. Does that make sense? The first Air BnB apartment turned out to be inappropriate ‘cos I couldn’t sleep, thanks to the neighbor’s TV on till 3 am. Thankfully I managed to cancel the rest of my booking and moved straight into the center of the historic town. There is a fabulous brand called ILOFTMALAGA – great curated apartments of very high standards. Funky, modern and minimalist – me to a T. My quiet apartment looked onto a bustling street in the heart of the olde town. Bliss.

I started looking for another house-sit. I also found the awesome website GUIDE TO MALAGA and reached out to it’s founder, Joanna Styles, and joined a networking session to meet like-minded business women. Bliss! Her guide really is the GO-TO for anything that you want to know about. Be sure to grab it when visiting Malaga.

“Why a house-sit Kate”, you may ask?

Mostly because I love to feel like I’m really IN a city, living there like a local, with animals to look after and using local transport – rather than being a visitor looking from the outside in. Can you believe that the same housesit from my initial search, was back in play on the membership site, as she had been seriously let down by anther house-sitter? Only this time I was already IN Malaga and could meet the “pussycat’s slave” in person. I got to visit the exquisite property just to the East of Malaga, and it instantly felt like Cape Town – Camp’s Bay to be precise. With a sweet black ’n white kitty to love and vice versa. I needed some animal love! It was a done deal. I had a winter home and a base from which to write my next book and heal my heart. The Cat slave, Melanie, is helping shift people’s perceptions to become Vegan through her recipes and coaching.

This might be another whole blog post one day, but at a very personal level, suffice it to say I was walking into the “Devil’s Den” by wondering if I could actually LIVE in Spain. It was part of another story of my potential future that was rapidly changing before my eyes– a future that it seemed was sadly not coming to fruition. And yes, I am being a little cryptic on purpose. If you know me, pick up the phone and call to chat for a more personal update! But, sometimes we need to face the fire. Spain was that for me. Healing, writing, walking, crying, yelling at the universe, sleeping, laughing, walking, reading, writing, creating a new community. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat. Malaga Momentos.

After about 2 weeks of being in Malaga – already with some favorite spots under my belt, an innate understanding of all the cobbled streets, local coffee shops where locals hung out, many, many beach walks, clients taken care of, and my resonance with the city deepening, I realized I needed to really LIVE and CONNECT and be less of a hermit. I was spending too much time alone if this was going to be my home for a few months. Working mostly online can be deceptive that way. I am always connecting with coaching clients, mastermind folk, writer’s and my mentorship groups and always interacting with people, friends, and family. But I needed more connecting IN THE FLESH. I knew I was going to be staying for a minimum of 3 months and I thought I best get to work on building a community of people. Playmates, colleagues, connections to yackety-yack with. Solidarity and friendships. The best way I know how to do that is to do it via something I love. I looked at dance classes, but they started at my bedtime. So what about writing?

I had decided it was the time to start writing my 5th book and had lodged that in my heart as my “winter” project. It’s about the past 4 years of living location free. So I searched for and joined the local Facebook group for Expats, and put up a post about how I was writing a book and asked who fancied joining me for some writing sessions? A simple post. I often do these writing sessions with our writers in our mentorships and regularly sit in community with writers. I was bowled over by the responses, especially a lady from Scotland who lives here all winter who started pointing me to all sorts of people she instinctively thought I’d like to meet. Instant networks and threads for me to explore.

I wasn’t starting the Malaga group as a paid membership or community –simply more to meet people and anchor myself in front of my computer. In the first meeting, there were 5 of us – and in 2 short hours, I had planned my whole book in 13 pages of hand-written notes. I always have a rule that every time you sit to write you need a goal to aim for. I offered this one rule to the group to get everyone to set minimum word count/goals for the writing session. Very little talking – lots of writing and lots of coffee. Word quickly spread. This week, as I leave Malaga, two other writers have taken over the group to keep the energy going and to keep writers writing! Thanks to a lovely young lad Matt from the USA and Marta from Scotland (a belt loving scriptwriter) who took over, I somehow feel as if I have managed to leave a little piece of myself here in the form of a committed writing group. That makes me so happy! I had been shown a PERFECT writing spot by my house-sit host. La Galerna is right on the beach in Pedregalejo, and we sit upstairs looking over the Mediterranean. I gathered folk who wanted to write together, once or twice a week. Within just 11 such writing sessions I had finished the first draft of my book. FANBLOODYTASTIC! Thanks to the regular committed folk Marc, Ruth, Carolynne, Eunice, Gian, Jan, Matt, Caroline, Marta and Lina. My regular writing tribe!

I have a small community here now, favorite places that call out to my heart, little back streets I always walk, bus drivers I know to greet, the place I buy my breakfast, an awesome physiotherapist, a weekly co-working meet-up with the fabulous Victoria Watson, a brand & PR expert, my regular pit-stop to the El Haman Turkish hot baths that soothe my muscles as I let the stress slip onto slabs of heated marble. I literally used to pray onto the slabs of marble while pouring buckets of piping hot water over my soul. The power of rituals. Then there is the powerhouse that is the incredible Nathan Manzaneque who runs the BTB networking club. I was also bowled over by the powerhouse of heartfullness, Victoria Ahlen who runs The Vilostrada Foundation doing phenomenal work in Morocco, and she is based between Morocco and Malaga. Or how about early morning Pilates with Ruth on the beach watching the sunrise.

I found a funky hairdresser and the best nail technician I have ever found anywhere. She’s called Angelica – go figure- and she is like a little butterfly on my nails. Or for the gals who need Frida type eyebrows – visit these two gorgeous Polish sisters who make this an unforgettable experience. Lashes and brows with love. I also have many other local coffee shops. I even get to tell established residents where to eat a certain food or entice them to a piano concerto in the magnificent Art Deco Concert Hall. And a guy I make sure I go and visit every time I’m near Plaza Constitution with his puppy called Kitty to offer an ear as he battles the streets. It’s a community for me. I know I will entice you to come and visit and …I already have plans afoot to host a Writing Residency in November 2020. Hosted at a gorgeous, brand new Retreat Centre called VegaHouseSpain run by Ana Capucho Maybe you get to explore this city with me soon?

I walk through it like a local. Smiling!

For me, life is usually about going TO something rather than walking away FROM somewhere else. I know it’s still Europe / Uk that’s pulling me. That’s what I know for now.

But I needed a blank page in between the old and the new. Malaga was my place. Officially leaving South Africa after to-and fro-ing for 4 years, I am in the place of – oh hell – so where next? Where is the place I let myself “pot”. You know- when you POT A PLANT? I have picked up my roots from the 50 years of being in SA, but am now dancing in the air waiting for the drumroll of ….YES, IT’S HERE. To feel the resonance of “This place wants me to stay.”

Malaga offered me a precious place to pause. To regather me to myself. Process and ponder life and where I am going. How do I want to truly live going forward, and how do I want to show up for my work and purpose. Where do I wish to create a proper home and retreat center? What does this new chapter look like and who joins me on it? Do you know what I mean when I say certain cities have the ability to help you heal – from the inside out? Malaga just mostly made me smile – or when I was grieving I could still smile through the tears as I stared at the ocean. It is an outrageously wonderful city to be in over Christmas and New year – the shops and Christmas lights and concerts are simply magnificent. I also had a dear friend and my mum come visit – and it was so easy to show them “my” city. Every time I spot the ‘Catedral’ I burst into a smile- she suddenly appears as you walk along a narrow street then BOOM – her majestic dome and “manquita arm” is right in front of you. Or walking past Octopus- the multi-million dollar yacht that was berthed in the Puerto all winter. I never did get an invite onto it. Rooftop terraces to bask in the sun sipping vino and tapas. Buskers playing everything from harps, to flutes to opera. A little Flamenco passion and “Naranja” lined streets. I also happened to have a fabulous Spanish teacher who lived in my complex – if ever you need a Spanish language immersion, she’s your teacher! I met many, many, amazing souls and you all know who you are, even if not mentioned in person here. Thank you for making my time in Malaga so precious.

I would really LOVE to know where you have ever found yourself doing some deep inner healing and re-assessment work? Or where you are right now? Was it a bustling city, a new country, or a wee village on a remote island? Was it summer and sun, or snow and shovels?

How long did it take you to come back to yourself – to find a sense of inner rhythm again? I feel like my winter sojourn to Malaga has revived me, and I know everything is gonna be just perfect, even though it’s totally different from what I had imagined unfolding these past few months. Life has a plan for us – we just have to show up and be present.

Drop me a line on [email protected] to connect- or leave me a comment

If you feel like you need to take some time to gather yourself towards yourself, be sure to come and grab my latest series about THE STRATEGIC POWER OF DISCONNECTING

Love Kate xx

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Malaga Momentos – My City of Healing was originally published on Kate Emmerson - The Quick Shift Deva

#grieving #healing #location free #malaga #new beginnings #p[urpose #write your book #writing #writing retreat

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the-pull-to-the-light · 4 years

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As I while away the last few hours before I see TROS, I’m going to spit out one last rant about why Ben must be redeemed. It’s nothing a million people haven’t said before, nothing groundbreaking, nothing even particularly well organized, but I have to ramble.

20 Reasons Why Ben Solo Must Be Redeemed

1. Lucas, Abrams, and others have repeatedly stated that the core message of SW is hope. Saying "Oh, except for that guy. He's beyond hope" would end the nine-movie arc with a giant fart sound instead of playing into that theme.

2. He is named after the man Leia called her "only hope" in perhaps the second-most famous line of dialogue in the original trilogy (second only to "I am your father.")

3. Speaking of fathers, if Ben isn't redeemed it makes Han's sacrifice meaningless. He laid down his life in an attempt to bring his son back to the Light, and with his dying gesture caressed Ben's face in a forgiving gesture. Han did not die hating his son.

Ben staying evil would also cheapen Luke's final act. He used up the last of his life force to face his nephew one last time, to give him one final lesson and warning.

Considering how vocal the fans are who dislike how the original cast were killed off in the sequel trilogy, a surprising number of them want their favorites’ deaths to be futile.

4. It would vindicate all the fans who have seen the hints and successfully predicted so much of the trilogy already, despite being the target of vicious harassment by a certain, toxic segment of the fandom.

5. The prodigal son is an ancient trope, and it’s survived for thousands of years because it’s a satisfying story that speaks to a primal need for acceptance and reconciliation. SW has always drunk deeply from the well of mythology.

6. Ben remaining on the Dark Side would leave Rey without the companionship of the one person who truly understands her. Through their Force Bond they know each other with a level of intimacy only a select few ever have. Rey is the main hero of this trilogy, and heroes in fairy tales get happy endings.

7. Speaking of fairy tales, that is what the SW saga has been called repeatedly by Lucas and others in the know. Fairy tales do not end in nihilistic, tragic fashion (at least, not the versions that are widely known and beloved in modern times.)

8. What message would it send for Ben to stay on the Dark Side? "Once you do a bad thing, you're tainted forever and might as well not even try to be better"? Yeah, that sounds like a message Disney would be behind...

9. Ben has canonically suffered mental abuse since he was born (possibly even in utero). His character resonates with real-life abuse survivors. Again, this would send a terrible message to viewers: "Abuse makes you evil and you can never rise above it." It also means that he did not choose the Dark Side entirely of his own free will. He was groomed and lured into it. It doesn’t absolve him of all responsibility for his actions, obviously, but it does throw a whole lot of gray into the mix, and makes us yearn to know what he would be like without that influence.

10. It would give Palpatine a victory. The most evil being in the galaxy would win--if not the war, then a very significant battle.

11. The Force would remain imbalanced.

12. Characters are supposed to grow, change, and evolve throughout a story. If a character ends a trilogy in essentially the same place as they began, that's unsatisfying and, frankly, bad writing.

13. It would render all the previous movies pointless. They are the story of the Skywalker family, and if we watched three generations struggle over nine movies only for the result to be “and then their last scion died in disgrace” that would feel like a colossal waste of time. This is not a Shakespearean tragedy, where such a thing would be fitting; again, it’s a fairy tale.

14. The movies hit us upside the head with lines like “Nobody’s ever really gone,” “I feel it again, the pull to the light,” and Snoke pointing out that even patricide couldn’t expunge the Light from Ben. The camera cuts to his face when the word “hope” is spoken. There are many, many examples of these subtle and not-so-subtle hints.

15. The books and other expanded universe materials have given us scenes of Ben as a small child, doing and saying cute kid things that make us go “aww.” That doesn’t strike me as “You should hate this character and cheer for his death.”

16. Adam’s amazing acting has telegraphed the deep conflict, pain, and suffering of his character time and time again. How many times did we see him on the verge of tears? He is utterly miserable on the Dark Side, and even in his moment of supposed victory at the end of TLJ he was clearly broken and devastated. He is not a cartoon villain cackling madly about the heroes’ downfall. (That’s Palpatine. Heh.)

17. Adam is an artist of great skill and sensitivity who selects his roles with care. He is not some shallow actor in it for the money. They talked him into taking the role because of the depth of the character, and the nuance of his journey. If the ending was “and then he doesn’t learn anything and just dies” I highly doubt Adam would have been interested.

18. As fandom likes to say, “the man is a walking spoiler,” and it’s so obvious that he is at the heart of the biggest, deepest story beats based on how little we see of him in the trailers and promos. We see him fighting with a lightsaber, because that’s expected and doesn’t give away the plot, but the significant moments (”But I do” and the bit with Palpatine’s voices) are few and far between.

19. Perhaps the most important of all: Leia. She is one of the most beloved characters in modern cinema, and she earnestly, devoutly, passionately, desperately wants her son back. Whether her character survives Episode IX or not, to have her left heartbroken about her only child would be unthinkable. If for no other reason than for Leia's peace of mind, Ben must return to the Light.

20. On a personal note, I’m still smarting all these years later from how disappointing the conclusion of the Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy was (the most kickass woman I’d ever seen on screen ended up literally barefoot and pregnant). That left a gouge in my heart that will never heal. After years of deep meta analysis and fangirling, for Elizabeth to end up that way, and for the sizzling chemistry between her and Jack to amount to nothing, was devastating. I dread the thought of a trilogy I’m this invested in dropping the ball that badly again. Game of Thrones ended up as a dumpster fire, too. Even the last Harry Potter book was disappointing to me, although not as badly as the previous examples. Anyway, the point is that I’ve been let down by other franchises in the past several years, and I refuse to see it happen again.

#i typed something

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definegodliness · 7 years

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Ονα

There are many things I don't understand. For the most of which I do claim blissful ignorance. There are shadowy sides to mankind and existence that are better left unknown. The why of gruesome acts can only be answered by traveling to the deepest layers of a diseased psyche to find the husk of that single evil seed that sprouted and grew rampant. Presuming there ever was such an evil seed. The truth might be that mankind's nature is plainly horrid. That we are beings of destruction. Demonic cores purposely contained in decaying flesh for the sake of perpetual creation. For truths like these I do claim ignorance is blissful.

There is hope. As embodying love transcends the spirit and allows us to be boundless; to enter a state of pure light. A state wherein I so often did find you. Yet I have found this light to attract lesser energies seeking to be empowered. The demons that dwell in the shadowy realm between matter's transience and eternity's ethereality have become well known to me. I have felt hate pierce and burn my soul, as if a magnifying lens' focal point had been aimed directly toward my core. There are beings of blood and gore; wide-eyed atrocities with sharpened teeth that have designed themselves to instill fear and leech off of this low frequent energy. Never did they take a hold of me. True love is impenetrable. This could be our core too. Though it does not answer the question if we are creatures of becoming, or being.

The days that I would actively transcend beyond my own corporeality to seek and find you are now behind me. Though true love is impenetrable, I have been proven that I am not. Hate, nor fear, nor greater sadness could corrupt me, yet there is a weak spot in me that caused me to bound myself to tangibility. Rage. Rage against injustice, myopia, inequality, and callous greed. Therein I turn destructive and wish for the world to burn in cleansing fires. That there be nothing left but ashes and a second chance for the world to evolve devoid of humanity.

I understand that this is merely a product of my own inaptness to find a shred of hope for the good in humanity to prevail. My demonic core is empowered by rage, and my weakness is to feel powerless. My weakness is that my love is all but all-encompassing. My light, if anything, the focal point of a magnifying lens. Exclusively aimed toward those who give me the hope and faith in humanity that deep down inside I know I crave. I love them, loyally. And with this love comes a protectiveness that turns to rage each time the world seems to set out to hurt them. The world that I have grown to find such an ugly place.

This has been a process of becoming, I am sure. Though I am not sure if this means my being would be essentially good and loving when stripped down to a state of purity. Or that its core is in fact demonic, purposely contained in decaying flesh. Craving to be let loose, or set free. Throughout the many lives I have lived, I still do not know if I am destructive fires or a catalyst of perpetual creation. There is a want in me that wishes for the latter. This is why I feel no urge to feed the monster. This is why I have stopped traversing the realm where I find you, as it is there that the monster finds me.

Until I find an answer to hush the rage inside, I must remain contained in decaying flesh. My soul is still learning, and thereby growing, which I see is the purpose of life and living. And while I struggle to return to being an embodiment of love, I must let our spiritual connection resonate self-evidently. And I hush my soul's yearning to actively seek yours. To once more fuse in true love. To fuse and emit that glorious light that illuminates the boundless galaxy, causing the shadowy realm between matter's transience and eternity's ethereality where demons dwell to vanish entirely. As if it never existed. I keep still where my heart is open, and let you find me. Between consciousness and subconsciousness. In dreams. I find that it is there that I can still reach a state of purity.

The new moon rises, and in its aftermath I am stirred. Ignorance is no longer blissful. The universe speaks in such a loud voice that I can only be intrigued. I want to know why you always tend to find me -- or why we find each other -- when the moon does not reflect sunlight upon us. I want to know why I always lose you in dreams. Literally losing track of your position when I am all of the sudden forced to focus on some mundane task that keeps me from being by your side. Then you disappear, or leave to a place where I cannot reach you. But I always feel your presence. You remain near.

I want to know why you always wear blue. And why, even when I wake up twice in the meantime, these dreams continue. Until its message has been conveyed completely, and I understand. But I don't understand. Even when all the answers are so blatantly thrown at my feet. I feel like I'm back in math class, where the teacher increasingly frustrated tries to explain to me what should be an easily solvable problem. It doesn't click. There are riddles I must attend to, and perhaps in solving them I will find my salvation. The key my purposed being is within reach, and today I am agonized by my own ignorance.

Tonight I lost you again. You were with two other girls at the opposite side of the park where we were located. My mundane task was to get us ice cream, which kept melting instantly. And I kept trying to save four or three all the while until you disappeared. Then the world around me turned into desert sands. Sloping hills and dust. I grabbed my phone to ask you where you were, and if you were all right, when I spotted a text my father had sent me. He had bumped into you on his vacation in Crete. Then an unknown person whose screen name was 'ovo' sent a picture of you draped in blue. This 'ovo' assured me you were all right.

I did not believe this. And all of the sudden I found myself frantically scrolling through a news feed. There was a headline '23 year old woman raped', which showed the exact same picture 'ovo' had sent me. But it couldn't have been you, the woman was named Stephanie. I found peace in this, but my heart grew ever more suspicious of this 'ovo' person, who seemed to go out of his way to assure me of your well being. I woke up wary and worried. And something inside me told me to remember the names that I had seen so clearly. Here ended my blissful ignorance.

On a whim I decided to look up 'ovo'. Which to me appeared Latin, a language I do not speak. In Latin, I found ovo means egg. And I pondered on its deeper meaning, or metaphorical qualities. The promise of something new. Evolution. Fertility. It could fit in many ways, but it did not resonate with me. I thought hard and tried to more vividly remember my dream, and I came to the realization that the second 'o', wasn't an 'o' at all. More a weirdly shaped 'a'. I searched for this letter in Latin, but couldn't find it. Then it hit me that of course it should be Greek. Another language which letters I never studied.

Ονα. The word was ονα. Which translated to 'one' in English, with three definitions: "The lowest cardinal number; half of two; 1." ; "referring to a person or thing previously mentioned or easily identified (e.g.: her mood changed from one of moroseness to one of joy)" ; "a person of a specified kind (e.g.: you're the one who ruined her life)."

Am I the one who has ruined your life, or is it this person with the screen name 'ονα', whom I instinctively mistrusted; who sparked my protectiveness of you, my loved one. Protectiveness peculiarly sparked in the absence of rage. All I felt was remorse for my own inability to undertake action. Then again, dare I consider the option that it is in fact you who have ruined my life? As it could be my massive blind spot. No, I reject such. It does not fit the truths of the energies surrounding me. All I know is that ονα is a blatant answer the universe gives to my subconscious questions.

Stephanie. The other name I saw clearly; the name of the twenty-three year old woman raped. It means Crown, or Victorious in Greek. Crowned in victory. Why did this name show up in the news feed I suddenly scrolled frantically, along with the picture of you draped in blue? Had I not known you as a temperamental, and fiercely independent woman, it would not have stirred me as much as it does now. It worries me on a soul level. What if your purely loving, non-demonic core is being corrupted? What if a seed is planted that now causes your soul to deteriorate to the point that you must be contained in decaying flesh. Contained like me. Is this the greater loss the universe fears?

There are riddles and worries I must attend to. That one day I might understand these enigmatic new moon dreams. That I might silence the rageful beast and transcend once again to give my soul peace. Hope is that I find yours there, unaltered and pristine. My beacon of hope and faith for the future of humanity. Hope is that our souls might fuse again and emit that glorious light that illuminates the boundless galaxy. That this time we might hold on and fulfill our destiny. To be unbound from our fleshy cages. To ascend and exist solely in love. That to us the core of our being as such is revealed. That we are good, essentially. Luminous beings.

#prose #spilled ink #writing #dream #long read

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linaliveshere · 7 years

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Hold up, Harry Styles?!

There is no bigger name in the world right now than Harry Styles. The singer has just released his much-anticipated solo album, a self-titled, 10 track masterpiece which shot to the top of the charts in 84 countries.

From the smoothness of opening track ‘Meet Me in The Hallway’, the rocky vibes of ‘Kiwi’ and ‘Carolina’ to the Bowie and Prince inspired debut ‘Sign of the Times’, this album is something so extraordinary and breathtaking in a time where brit-pop and brit-rock are more valued now more than ever.

It’s no lie that since the start, Harry has always been pinned as the ‘one’ out of One Direction. His charisma, personality, talent and of course his looks, made him irresistible to almost everyone who crossed his path. When the group kept on growing and gaining popularity, Harry’s performance ability quite literally outshone the rest of the boys, to the point during the stadium tours that One Direction were doing, Harry was the main reason a lot of people went to watch. The aura around Harry has always been so positive and uplifting, and it draws anyone in, no matter if you listened to One Direction or not.

There was always speculation that Harry would be the first and the most successful of the 5 boys when it comes to going solo. However, he kept going with One Direction and his song writing ability was continually highlighted. People of all ages, gender and credentials realised his absolute potential.

When One Direction inevitably went on their hiatus, a lot of people, including myself, thought Harry would be the first of the remaining members to branch out into a solo career. Imagine my shock when he uploaded to Instagram for the first time in over a few months with his infamous long locks adorn in his hand. And the even bigger shock when the rumours surrounding his acting debut came true with pictures of him on set of Christopher Nolan’s upcoming war epic, Dunkirk.

Even throughout all this, Harry’s personality, values and morals have not wavered. He remains down to earth and will do anything to make his fans happy. If you look up ‘Harry Styles Fan Experiences’ on any social media platform, dozens upon dozens of articles, videos and blog posts will come up. I have been lucky enough to be a part of that special group of people who have met him, and honestly it was one of the best things that has ever happened to me.

His intelligence and forethought about everything gives the effect that people know everything about him, but we hardly know anything at all. He still manages to captivate an entire audience without the absolute sole reliance on social media. Many stars these days rely on that to keep their relevance, but not Harry. That’s what is special about him.

I am not going to lie when I say that when the hiatus was announced, my first thought was immediately to Harry and the fact that he could now possibly go solo, which is all I’ve wanted.

Another thing about Harry which puts him head and shoulders above the rest is his out their personality and how he does express himself to the public. One of the things that is publicly known about Harry, especially at the start of One Direction’s fame, was how he felt about how the general population saw him. In One Direction’s first documentary, A Year in The Making, Harry was greatly affected about what people said about him. As time went on, he became more confident in his ability and in himself, which made him stand out from the rest. From becoming a front runner for the skinny jean and boots craze, to the dad tops and the crazy suits, which he is synonymous for now. Moreover, the way he handles rumours and if anyone does talk bad about him or the ones that he loves, he still treats everyone with the same kindness. With continuous taunts about his sexuality, especially from people who are meant to be ‘fans’, he stays respectable and tells ‘it’s never been a question to me’.

Seeing him grow and become more confident gave me so much confidence in me and my ability to live my life. I know they say that having a role model is an easy way out or a lame thing to do, but I can proudly say since the time I was 15 that Harry Styles was someone who helped me make decisions, brought the best people I know into my life and gave me some of the happiest and best memories ever, some that I will treasure for the rest of my life.

Break-down of the album:

Meet Me in the Hallway: An incredible opening to the album. Smooth guitar and Harry’s vocal ability is significantly highlighted in this song. This song just makes you feel like you’re floating around on something to be honest. Angst lyrics from his point-of-view about wanting someone a lot more than they want you.

Sign of the Times: The debut single, and the longest track on the whole album, pays homage to two of Harry’s greatest inspirations- David Bowie and Prince. It represents a lot of what Harry stands for as a person, and again his vocal ability is realised in a song with this much power and vigour. An unbelievable introduction to the rest of the album. The music video just makes this song that much more epic, with Harry being flung over 1000 feet in the air from a helicopter.

Carolina: The first official dance bop of the album, this song was written about a girl Harry knew for less than a day, and she left such an impression on him that he wrote a bloody song about her?! And yes, her name is mentioned in the song, it’s just up to you to figure out where. The la la la la in the chorus will without a doubt will be stuck in your head for days on end. The lyrics ‘there’s not a drink that I think could sink her’ resonates with me on a very personal level, so I can’t wait to send a cheers Harry’s way when he sings this song at one of the concerts I am going to.

Two Ghosts: This is the song that every media outlet has been claiming is homage to Harry’s 4-month relationship with Taylor Swift 5 years ago. Despite that, this song is beautiful. The lyrics are about love lost then the hope that something may happen again. It is probably the one song that is closest to Harry’s One Direction days (even though it’s still quite far from it). It has been said that Harry has been holding onto this song for quite a while, and it shows.

Sweet Creature: If a song could make you fall in love over and over again, this song is it. The delectable ohh ahh’s, with cherished lyrics such as ‘Two hearts and one home’, along with the infinite strum of an acoustic in the background makes this song so undeniably happy and makes you want to hug everyone you love.

Only Angel: If this song is not considered the follow up single to Sign of the Times, Harry and his team are idiots. The start of this song starts out very melodic, almost identical to the grafting of Sign of the Times. Slowly you start to hear a ‘woohoo’ in the background, and that gets louder until the beat completely changes to an absolute rock out. This is a massive homage to one of Harry’s favourites, The Rolling Stones. The lyrics by now take a bit of a sexy turn, talking about someone who is naughty and nice at the best of times. The heavy use of guitar and drums in this song will make is a fun one live.

Kiwi: This is my favourite song off the album. When I first saw the track list to the album, my eyes immediately were drawn to Kiwi, because every other song I know that is centred around this word tend to be about one thing and one thing only. Much like Only Angel, there is a heavy influence on guitar and drums. The lyrics insinuate alcohol and drug use, which include ‘It’s New York baby always jacked up, Holland Tunnel for a nose, it’s always backed up’ which has sent many people into an absolute frenzy. And if that didn’t suffice enough, the lyrics of the outro bridge ‘she sits beside me like a silhouette… hard candy dripping on me till my feet are wet…. and now she’s all over me, it’s like I paid for it’ sent Twitter on the night of the album release into a manic.

Ever Since New York: Harry debuted this on his Saturday Night Live residency, and it was quite a soft-spoken song with a lot of ad-libs and key changes, again like much of the album, referencing to his outstanding vocal talent. The studio version was different, which I did not mind at all. The sounds of a piano come through and take central dominance in some parts of the song, making it very melodic.

Woman: ‘Should we just look up romantic comedies on Netflix and see what we find?’ The talking opening gives way to a kazoo/duck sound which dominates much of the song (which we now know is Harry’s voice extremely edited). The sultry lyrics underlie a lonely Harry and how he wishes she was doing all these things to him as she was doing to her significant other at that point in time. The bass in this song is incredible, and the music breaks between verses and chorus’ hold some epic guitar action.

From the Dining Table: An undeniable of loneliness and how tough tour life and fame can be in terms of relationships. To add another shock to the system for everyone listening to album, the first lines talking about masturbation. The lyrics ‘even my phone, still misses your calls by the way’ is a yearning to those who have love and left him, despite the fact if they used him or not. A great counterbalance to the opening song of ‘Meet Me in the Hallway’, and a perfect ending to an incredible album.

Buy Harry Styles now or stream:

•Apple Music: https://itun.es/au/GY8ejb

•Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/user/harrystyles_official/playlist/5fwwLMCP6Pz3qYsLIdPa83

Watch the Behind the Album movie here: https://itunes.apple.com/us/music-video/harry-styles-behind-the-album/id1234039985

To see if Harry is touring near you this year, head on over here: http://hstyles.co.uk/tour

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ianemoonliteraryblog · 7 years

Text

I Am Me

I’ve lived my life as a woman. Still I am living a woman’s life. People see me as one of you, treat me like one of you. I am one of the only men on the planet who truly understand the inequality of women. My transition into this position in life has taught me how unjust my people can be. As a white man, a trans man, and in the past, a girl. I have seen how we treat each other as well of those we deem to be beneath us. I am guilty of this. I saw that this is how it was done so I did it to many; I am not blameless.

Although I have see the indecency in women, I have also seen the good. How women help each other, lift each other up. Backstabbing, rumors, and sexuality have run rampant and destroyed our Public Schools for future generations. We need to raise our youth to spread equality and unity. Above all; Empowerment. Everyone can be who they want to be. The kind of education and environment in Private Schools and taught in wealthy families (unless of course they raise their women to be pageant pretty and their men with toxic masculinity). We need to stop feeling better than others or feeling like you have more, need more, want more than anyone else. That is not a healthy way to live.

I wish I had been able to live the life of a child. So many adult things happened leading up to and even after my birth that I was forced to grow up. Play seemed too childish. I never played with cardboard boxes and I didn’t enjoy legos or building blocks. I hated the way other kids always seemed to have imaginations and imaginary friends. The only way I was able to imagine anything was if it was written down for me in a book. I found my imagination in literature. The words come to life in my mind like it’s being painted by the artists my mind associates them with. I cannot remember the names of many artists or authors. That doesn’t reflect the amount of books I’ve read and paintings I’ve lived a lifetime in front of, the tears I’ve shed in museums or curled up on the couch with a good book. The poetry that makes you stop and think about the world in a completely different way, or see it exactly as it is and forces you to make peace with it or drown in your emotions.

Writing is my salvation, writing is God. Writing is without gender, without sex, without religion or biase. Anyone can write. There are no rules. If you have something to say and the will to write it, you are a writer. Men and women, gay and straight, Christian or Hindu. Writing is for us all. God is for us all. War is for man, for greed. Anger and hate is Evil. It is the Dark Side of the Force. When you imagine all the things you cannot imagine and yearn to know more you cannot imagine all the things you’ll discover about people and places, how things exist and shift. The other day I watched a 24 hour time lapsed video of the Earth “breathing” from satellite images. The Earth is a living being that we are charged with taking care of and hating people is what got us into this mess. Let’s value the lives of everyone on Earth and work together to clean it up.

We need to stop arguing about bathrooms and whether or not we should bomb or raid or deport these people or those. Our planet is literally dying. We have given her pneumonia, she’s drowning in the water caused by the fever caused by our noxious gas. We have the knowledge and the ability to go green. The fact that there is even a debate about using oil and natural gas is uphauling. These industries are dead in the water and they know it. When the Earth shifts, so must its people, and to prevent her getting sick again we must learn from our mistakes. Once we open ourselves to the possibilities of peace you never know how Mother Earth will bloom for you. The life that will flourish before your eyes!

That starts with respect. Respect for your fellow man. Nameless, faceless, distant men. Respect is the center of righteousness. You cannot know your worth until you see that everyone is worth just as much as you, and the planet we live on deserves the respect of being cared for so that we never lose our home, forced to make do with some other planet or space station. A homeless species, adrift.

As I am today, I am an undecided on medically transitioning transmasculine enby (NB, or non-_binary). I am still learning about the world. I do not presume to know the world or the people on it. The world is always pushing its way in, filling my mind the with ugliness and the pain. It depresses me and makes me want the world to die in a fiery end. Then I am awakened to the beauty and the possibility of the world and for my future upon it and I am filled with hope. I feel like a balloon, rising above those that choose to keep themselves down with hate. I dream about the day I can lie upon a rock on a sunny day in the forest, wearing nothing but damp shorts, soggy shoes, and bliss on my stubbled face. If the one I love or someone I love is beside me, that will be my crowning achievement. In that moment I will be in a place to decide what kind of man I want to be. What to do with my life. Until then I am still growing up. I haven’t even gone through puberty yet, not the right one, anyway. I’m just a kid.

A lot of you will want to hate me for the way I introduce myself, the way I look; and that’s your right. I just hope these words might resonate somewhere within you, open your heart and your mind just a crack, so that, someday, for whatever reason, your wall might break. That you might one day hear enough of love, and be able to shut out the hate, even if its only for a moment, and I hope you know that I will do my best not to hate you, even if you hate me.

I know everyone has a story to tell and there is always a reason for hatred. Some past pain or the way you were brought up, the people you were surrounded by. It isn’t your fault. All I’m hoping is that you have enough of your own mind left and enough love in your heart to see that what I say is true, and that the future of mankind is at risk simply because the top 1% have us at war with each other and their media paints us all in the extreme. You pass your judgments without even thinking, as do I. This is a habit we all must work to break. A tradition running long past its expiration date. We live in a world where the dollar is worth more than human life. This is the fundamental reason for our failure. The fault is in greed. We must decide to drop the Federal Reserve to its knees and tell the 1% “No more!”

Their money was gained in dealing death. It needs to be worthless in our eyes. It is time we started putting value on life. Plants, animals, and people. If it has value and worth it is worth saving. Greed has no value. Money is the symbol of greed. You want to know just how to move into the future, here it is. Love thy neighbor. Love the land, love the sky, and love yourself enough to know you are worth more than the world tells you you are. Love others enough to lift them up to your level rather than knocking them down. Don’t be someone who destroys, be someone who builds, and together we can rebuild the world in peace.

#feminism #woman #solidarity #transgender #trans #nonbinary #personal rant

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