The bends of the River Thames

Well…  I know I said I’d get political, but the way my life’s moving right now, I can hardly make time to breathe, let alone have deep thoughts and construct meaningful sentences with them!  Not that I’m complaining, oh no no no no no no no, there is no way that I would complain about the amazing heap of magic and characters and timelines and props and trains and love my life has turned into, but I am a bit tired, cos, let’s face it, everybody gets tired after a while, but my mind, heart, soul and spirit are still going strong and got battery for ages!!  Well, no, my brain is pretty shut down, hahaha, but the wheels keep turning no matter what I do!

So then, where was I?  Nowhere yet, right?  I was just starting…  So, there are a few bits of consciousness that I have had the fortune of accessing over the past few weeks, the most notorious one being the lack of the bend on the Thames.  Well, of course the Thames has a lot of bends, I am not saying in any case or even that it doesn’t, but I was referring to the bend I used to see to give me inspiration for stories…  No, that bend is still there, only that I cannot see it anymore…  Er- did I start speaking again without previously explaining *what* I was talking about?  Yes, I did, didn’t I?  OK, let me start over…  Deep breath.

Remember last week when I said that a girl was looking at me funny because I was looking through her window to try and catch a glimpse of a particular bend of the Thames?  Well, the bend I was referring to is the one that goes on a funky semi-loop around the Isle of Dogs (the first one, not the second), but I am sorry to disappoint myself: it cannot be seen from the train that I take from my house to London Bridge Station.  Thing is, I have seen that bend before, many times, but not from this train that I take so often lately…  In fact, you can’t even see the river until you cross it to get to Charing Cross!  But that’s two stations *after* London Bridge…!  As you must all be assuming by now, I have been mulling over this for a few days, trying to understand why it was that I recall seeing that bend over the past few weeks…  I’ve got many answers, and I think they’re all part of the final one anyway, so I’ll run them by you:

1)      I have taken a train that goes from the general Greenwich area to the northern part of the city, only I think that was the Overground I used to take before, when I lived in the artist’s house before moving further South…  It could also have been another train, taken during a random day or trip somewhere, and maybe the image just got stuck in a way that even now, by hearing the words “London Bridge”, my mind reconstructs that image and puts it in front of me… that it’s a real image I have, there’s no doubt about it, but I would need to take some of those routes again someday to figure it out, and remember to look outside as I ride!  Which brings me to reason number two:

2)      Yes, I’ve become a Londoner, indeed, which means that it’s time to move on, lol… (that was a very bittersweet lol, btw).  I put my nose into my book, my notes, my mobile, my computer even (at times), and forget that I am above ground, so I miss out on the beautiful sights that I had been craving for almost 20 years before I was able to move here…  One thing I learned the other day while looking for the Thames, was that from that train you might not see the river, but you get the Tower Bridge!  How did I miss that for the whole month I’ve been living there…?  Well, whole month is imprecise, given that I’ve spent so much time in Glastonbury and other bits in Newcastle, Manchester and Liverpool, and that some days that I’m in London I just don’t go out but stay in and write instead so I can catch up with myself a little bit…  But still!!  I’ve done that trip countless times, and the bridge is right there!  You can see the tips of the towers for a little while, and then all of a sudden the train lines cross the street from where cars cross the bridge, so the bridge is there, in all its glory, happy and crossable, with its greys and blues like it belongs in a fairytale instead of in the middle of a bustling city…  I have yet to see if you can see the Tower of London as well, which would be cool, but because the buildings are so tall, and the direction you’re sitting in has to be forwards and by the right-hand window, as well as the fact that the crossing has to coincide with a moment when there are no trains going in the opposite direction, it’s hard to really catch a glimpse…  (That’s probably why it’s been so easy to miss it in the past weeks…)  In any case, my womb jumped when I saw the bridge all ready to be crossed…  Yes, my womb, that’s what I said.  I don’t know, I’m just as baffled as you are!  I will go with that maybe it inspires so much creativity in me that my Sacral Chakra just goes boom, you know?  That’s what makes sense to me, cos a little afterwards, when I saw the Parliament really fast as we crossed the river on the way to Charing Cross, it was my heart that jumped, so everything was normal there.  That hadn’t happened in a while, btw, so I was happy to feel that little bit of my original excitement about this city…  That induces me to think that further on, after I’ve been living somewhere else for a while, every time I come back (for filming, or theatre or a bit of research or just because), I will feel the good-old feeling again…  Oh, the bend of the river, that’s right… I think all this links in because since I have fallen into the side of those that don’t look up anymore, maybe I was letting my brain fill in the gaps of what I knew I could see to get inspiration if I was traveling on another route, if that makes any kind of sense at all…?

3)      And I say that because from this particular train, you can see the Isle of Dogs for a really long while, but the rails are just neither tall nor close enough to see the river as well as the buildings…  Canary Wharf had been calling out to me since Doctor Who (so not that long ago, as opposed to everything else in the city), and now I use it for a bit of scrying every once in a while, because ever since I moved back in London, the three places I’ve lived in offer a full view of the isle as I commute, so it’s easy to look up and watch the buildings over impose each other and get a bit creative with the images they can produce.  Of course, I still prefer scrying with trees as I commute, even at night when you can only see the tops and it’s like a game of deeper shadows against the already dark sky, so that’s never stopping…  And if I’m talking about rivers, scrying in the flickers of light on the water can also be amazingly soothing and beneficial, especially if the water is slightly wavy or rushing…  Just suggesting ;)  Back to the river and the Isle:  that was the last place Mani and I went filming on January before I had to leave (close to there was where we filmed my Love, Loss and Life minisode: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=71R8M1dONFE), after I’d been nagging for months that I wanted to see that part of the city, so we keep saying that it was Law of Attraction and that now I have to see it wherever I live; so I believe that there’s something about the constructions there that is giving me a message, so I try to look up as often as I can… although I remain forever partial to the older buildings, the more historical the better, but that’s another story.

4)      And it doesn’t stop at that: it was a little over four years ago that I was able to come back to this country and I wrote a travel log to my family and friends, into which I poured my feelings and my tears (happy tears) from the moment when the airplane entered the island though the mouth of the Thames to when we were about to land, and my first tears escaped at the sight of the curving river, the tips of the buildings, and oh, the Tower Bridge!, with the London Eye and the Parliament shortly afterwards, and a few scattered buildings here and there that my memory did not let me recall which or whose they were, but I knew they were all the royal palaces in the midst of pretty parks and grounds (and some museums, I supposed, and of course the Tower of London).  That bird’s-eye view has stuck with me forever: Google Maps come alive (especially after some of the most technocratic dreams I’ve ever had involve me traveling places via Google Maps…  Going countries, visiting friends and family, flying through the air as I jump into my computer screen…  Oh, if only!!).

So, these are the bends of the River Thames I know, and I will gladly keep on revisiting them (and learning some of the others, cos I do skid a bit geographically in other areas of the city, lol), and drawing inspiration from that main artery of life that cuts this city in two…  For whatever’s worth, I know that now that those images are embedded in my mind, I can bring the Thames back into life whenever I need its healing, inspiration or just the flow… Yeah, and I also know that wherever I move next, I will also require a river running by, please!  Everything seems to be pointing at Newcastle, so there’s always the Tyne, which also heals and inspires me immensely, and afterwards, we’ll see…  I only ask for rivers, cats, a kind and gorgeous boyfriend, good charity shops, a Pagan circle, cozy pubs, nice cafés that host music and literary nights, and farmers’ markets in the place I settle in, is that too much to ask for?  Eep, apparently it is…  Oh well, I suppose I will have to travel back and forth for a while to enjoy the kind and gorgeous boyfriend, but some things are worth making the train and coach trips for!  …And gone on a tangent again!  Geez, Sandra can’t you just stay within the subject for once?  Um, no, I can’t, but thank you for asking.  I’ll close up with my best wishes, then!

Have you all a most delightful day or night! Till we meet again!

Sandra Tena ~ Dreamer, Seeker, Healer, Lover

https://www.amazon.co.uk/kindle-dbs/author/ref=dbs_P_W_auth?_encoding=UTF8&author=Sandra%20Tena&searchAlias=digital-text&asin=B00NWBFY6E

Things I've learned this week

1)      Wheelie suitcases are not applicable for all English cities, not even carry-on, light-weight four-wheel wheelies.  Cobblestones and uphill roads (and often a mix of both) will make your arms hurt and your sides feel stuck and possibly even your knees creak when you’re trying to maneuver a suitcase along such said streets. On the other hand, I seem to make a nice spectacle of it, judging by the amount of people looking at me and smiling.  Could be because I talk to myself (either giving directions or letting myself know that the measurements taken are being unsuccessful; could also be because I skip and even dance a bit, often walking backwards at street crossings or deep bends, because it’s much easier to pull the wheelie up instead of dragging it behind me).  (Er, no, I’m not a madwoman, I do not go prancing along the street; I skip on the curve or do a little dance around something because sometimes it’s much easier to do the pulling in one quick movement rather than take more seconds to get the suitcase over to the sidewalk or around an obstacle.  That being said, I will readjust my original sentence on this paragraph: I do not go prancing along the street when I’m carrying a loaded suitcase of any size, but I am known to sing a bit or do a dance move here and there whether there’s real or imagined music).  (Still, not a madwoman, just the everyday creative person walking along…)  (Ok, moving on).  Yeah, some cities in this country are just not wheelie-friendly.  Liverpool laughs at the face of wheelies.

2)      When you’re tired of London, you’re tired of life, Samuel Johnson said…  How can that ever be, I asked (not Samuel Johnson; I asked generally), how can anybody ever be tired of London?  For anybody who loves London, this might be a very mind-boggling question, indeed; for anybody who dislikes London, their follow-up will be “How can anybody not?”.  My take on this is: Samuel Johnson did not live in this world we live in, and perhaps the man (or woman) who is tired of London is not tired of life per se, but of life-style…  Let’s analyze this; the original quote goes thus: “Why, Sir, you find no man, at all intellectual, who is willing to leave London. No, Sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford.”  Ah, that last sentence is the operative one, can you not see? But the thing is that today, even if there is all of what life can affod and more in this great city of ours, there is no time left in this lifestyle of ours to enjoy all of that life-affordable London!  Argh, I was told time and time again, and wished, desired (forced!) myself not to believe it…  Words that said: “London gives you so much, but takes even more from you…”, how could I come to trust those words?  And I saw the crowds around me, and thought that since my craft was otherwise I would never become like a part of them: a sea of legs and shoes recalibrating every minute of their commute to make it count, even those that leant back on their tube seats (eyes closed or not, same diff) who would make me ask myself why would anybody not want to use that given time to read or make a bit of progress in whatever project they had in minds…  And never would I have believed that my craft was just the same as any other person’s when I board any of those trains…!  The thing is, the Gap does not discriminate, It is there for all to mind!  And also, there is the minor detail that life is just not that affordable in this city anymore…  So I’ve become a commuter, one of the many who’ve come to dread the (in)famous “Check ___ for times and services” board or screen at the stations; who’d better daydream for a bit (ten minutes till I have to get off the train, anyway) instead of reading or making any kind of notes, cos her brain’s been fried by the many projects that occupy it; who’s had to say to friends “I’d better leave at 8 cos it’s about an hour and half for me to get home”, and who’s had to bit her tongue after sayin’ “Freakin’ rain!” when she’s got off the train at 12:30 AM after returning from class in Newcastle and still has to walk five blocks home (cos, let’s face it, it’s not the rain’s fault, and she still loves it dearly, just like the city, but there are times when the two should not go hand in hand…). In short, I’ve become a Londoner.  Granted, a lot (about 99%) of the day-dreaming has been boyfriend-induced over the past month or so, but about 99% of that time has been done in a semi-waking-slouched-down-on-the-train kind of way anyhow…  Add to that that my throat keeps closing at the most annoying of times, such as when I’m talking to friends or actually laughing, bringing out a cough or two, which has made more than one person tell me that I should get checked out…  Oh, but we do remember what closed throats mean, right?  All of that which we are not saying!  Self-criticism added with the cough there, gee, I wonder what about?  Maybe it’s because of the lack of time I have for finishing my projects as well as keeping my mind sane?  Hence I have learned this week that I have to come out with it, what some of you already know, maybe even told me so at different times; that which I might have inadvertently written in a previous post, cos we all know that my written and spoken speech is full of Freudian slips anyway (even though I am more of a Jung kind of woman)…  that which will make some of you gasp, others raise an eyebrow, others remind me that you’ve told me so, and others yet say “Meh, so what?”: the truth of the matter is that I have decided that after my two years in the North East to comply with visa requirements, I will not be coming back to live in London.  The full sentence is: I don’t want to live in London anymore.  (Releases a lot of air, a happy sigh, might even be said by those present…) (er, I mean my characters, of course).  Yes, it’s like a load off my back.  I will come down and visit and film and go to the theatre and museums and stuff, just like it should be when someone loves a city and wishes to make the most of it; but living here is not making the most of it, and I realized that ages ago when I found myself forcing me to come out of my thoughts and look up at St Pancras…  I’d already felt it last January when I’d had the same experience at Picadilly Circus (not that it compares, because St Pancras is so much more awe-inspiring, evidently), but the fact that it kept happening week after week just meant that I was not enjoying things in this city in a natural way… so, sniff and lo, I see my life in a smaller city, I’ll just have to look for which new one ;)

3)      Oh, I have learned that when you’re trying to open a web page/blog kind of site that will draw in the right kind of readers, you have to be very careful with the name… I mean, it’s not only that it has to sound good, but also that you really look into any site with a similar name, lest you wish to end-up with a site with the same name of a Chinese mob from a video game, a youth Christian on-line forum, a web-program for business suppliers, a Mental Health advise centre, a funeral agency, a travel agency, or, funnily enough, all of the above.  Fine, this is not something that I “had to learn”, it’s something I was doing and I noticed that it might be a good idea to add it here, cos, seriously, the name combinations brought in too many creative results not to have shared here, especially when you combine words with “gleaming”, “shining” and “luminous”.  Oh, and you have no idea how much vampire-related stuff is there out there as well to match them with…!  Eeek, argh…  (er… grr, argh…) (better??).

4)      In this city, people tend not to look at each other, that’s already been established, but I have also said that people tend to look at me a lot.  A lot.  And smile, and chat and even laugh when I’m laughing by myself in a corner.  Oh, made myself look like a madwoman again.  You know when you see a text or a funny picture on Facebook or read something really good on a book you’re commuting with?  Or even when you remember something amusing about your day or a friend or just something you saw?  Yeah, that kind of laughter.  Well, I am a magnet for people smiling/laughing back…  Even the other day, when I went food-shopping and realized I didn’t have a pound for a cart so I had to take a basket, and of course it got heavy so I carried it up with both hands holding the sides, and I must have looked very happy doing that, cos an elderly lady in a wheelchair beamed at me as if I had been skipping and laughing instead of holding a heavy basket full of food down an aisle at Sainsbury’s…  Yes, this in my daily basis, two, three, sometimes four times a day…  Train, street, museums, shops, you name it.  Oh, but I have learned to put into words why we should not judge when we think someone is looking at us funny!  To begin with, ever since the word “boyfriend” came back into my usable vocabulary (huzza!), my smile has become a bit of a permanent accessory, and of course that means that I have to be very careful of who I direct it to, because there is no telling how many people would be willing to believe that it is an invitation for a chat-up, cos, seriously, I was already being stopped in the street for compliment-giving, now can you imagine what the new-found pheromones do to that? And note that I said “people”, not “men”.  Yeah, well, I use my book more than ever now, though I hardly read it, cos I’m usually thinking of the subject that my pheromones are directed to rather than the book (oh, skidding here!  No, I’m still very professional, if I am reading a book for a review I still give it my full attention, I just make sure I turn to it when my mind is relaxed and I can actually dive into it without ordeal…  Phew, salvaged that!).  Where was I?  Yes, I try to hide into my book and that usually helps (is anybody noting that a few weeks ago I stated that I was sad that people here “read” so as not to have to look at each other?).  Like I said, I’ve become a Londoner, and there are so many sides to that that I never noticed!  I was only looking at the pretty ones: the cultural, achieving, power-enhanced, quick-paced ones!  Wait, I’m not talking about bankers and stuff (though I am sure that many of them are quite cultural, just like any other sector of society can be), I’m talking about that part that say to people “Hey, look, I’m a writer, and I am living in London; I’m driven!”… so I never noticed that it included the commuter-way of life…  in any case and event, being in a small town can be just as rewarding, inspiring, and even more achieving, because of the more relaxed way of life and the opportunity to find inspiration in the sense of community and quietness…  Will not say nature cos London has many areas that people can reach to be at one with nature, and everyone who uses them accordingly tend to be quite satisfied with them…  Okay, off track here…  I was saying, yes, sometimes I can’t stare at the book for too long (especially when I realize that I should have turned the page two stops before), so I’d rather just let my eyes wander (and often do a bit of character search, I must admit, though I have not been very alert as of late, but still works)…  and so it happens that people mostly smile back at me anyway, and hey, if there’s a bit of sunshine in their day let’s just let it be, right? (as long as they don’t talk to me). Well, and as long as they realize that when you’re above ground there is such a thing as inspiring buildings and leafy roads to look at, so it’s a shame not to daydream looking at those things, right?  Cos cities here inspire me a lot and I want to keep looking out the window…  Funny as it is, sometimes they don’t realize that, and they might start giving you funny looks (cos, yeah, even I get those too, never said I was immune, did I?  And I mean when I’m smiling, not when I say the awkward things that will most likely award me funny looks anyways).  The most recent one of those came from a girl as I realized that because I was looking through *her* window (that is, across the aisle from me, cos that’s the side you can catch glimpses of the River Thames from), she was giving fleeting looks back at me; I never thought she was flirting, but really, I wasn’t even thinking of her or even of the *then and there*, but the reflex normally is to look back, right?  Ok, just to make it more awkward, I saw her telling her friend about me and mouthing something similar to “What the hell?” as he looked at me as well.  That was the moment it dawned on me that I might have been looking in her direction pretty much as if I was in love…  Duh, yeah, I am, but decidedly not with her!  So, no judgment, people! However you think the person on the other seat might be looking at you, it might not even be directed at you!  Well, it might be more probable that it is, but do make sure to ascertain before you judge, okay?  Otherwise you might make the pretty writer across the aisle miss the curve of the river that she wanted to see and thus loss the scene she had been perfecting in her mind (either novel or boyfriend-wise, same diff, it hurts just the same…).

5)      Oh, yes, a very important one, and I have to make a note on another entry about this, because it has recently come to my attention that the thing I previously wrote about Mexican music can be very easily misunderstood by anyone who doesn’t have a working understanding of the different kinds of folk music there is in Latin America.  I rectify: I don’t like the *bad* kinds, but I do enjoy all those kinds which are melodic and uplifting, and even those which can be melancholic, like trova and bohemia, and even a lot of the most traditional types of folk music, which I did not mention in the previous post, but which are important in my life…  I do not know if it’s even worth it to make a specific entry to talk about different genres, especially because so many of my friends love the kind that I call the *bad* kind, and them and I have already had “the talk” anyway… I’d rather get political at some point, because all those years of BA did not go wasted and because I keep getting the feeling that it’s time to come back to the real world, if at least for short bursts of time, and then we can talk a lot about *some* of the bad kinds!

6)      Never to take the coach between London and Newcastle again!!  Wait, hadn’t I learned that after the whole Milan ordeal almost two years ago? (The time when I got so ill and the coach drive was so bad for me, I was bed-ridden for weeks and this close to pneumonia…). Hm, I guess it’s true what they say, those who don’t learn their history are doomed to repeat it…

7)      And a last thing I have learned is that I should probably stop hanging out with people who are ten years younger than me…  Seriously, it was bad enough last year feeling like an old lady because I didn’t want to go to any party anymore, but now, most places I go to where I say “Oh, I could move here” (even Crouch End, possibly the only place in London I could return to settle into if it were ever the case…  Well, and Chiswick, no matter what Donna Noble says), they go “Well, it’s so cute I could consider moving here, if I was older, had grayer hair, was ready to form a family…”.  In your faces, all, I have been called Miss and young lady more times over the past few weeks than in the whole year and a half that I lived in England last time around!  I’m ageing backwards! Lol. Oh, no no no let’s hope not!!  Seriously, though, I am ready to settle down, and all I wish is I could figure out where…  Well, being en-route for the visa is a huge step!  It may come to “settling down” in Newcastle for a while as I bring my business up, and that’s fine as long as I have Stephen’s arms to come home to, wherever he is as well, but there comes a time in a girl’s life, you know, and my time came years ago, hence the feeling of restlessness…  and mind you all, to have  place to settle down in, for me, will only mean that I’ll have my own place to call base and to go back to from all my travels!  And of course, who am I ever kidding?  All those people who are ten years younger than me?  I would never part with them just because of a little thing like this!  Let them party and live in big cities, and let them enjoy what makes them happy, as long as the reason we remain friends is that lovely energy of joy and trust and feeling that we’ll be there for each other when the party’s over or the trips are done… or is merely a time for rest…!

 

So, I bid you all farewell, with a thank you for your time and a sunshiny smile (just to make sure that you understand that it’s not that I don’t *like* people, right??  I just don’t want anybody to chat me up, is that ever so wrong?).  Sigh, have I become one of those girls?  “I have a boyfriend and men ask me out all the time, I don’t know what to do”.  Six-freakin’-years (almost going on seven) people!  That’s all I’m saying…  I know where my loyalties are and if you all know me as well as you say you do, you should know that as well!  There is only one man that I welcome in to stay, and the only reason I brought the other stuff up was because of tube circumstances and such…  But this is the one part of the real world that I have come down from the clouds to: to allow myself to choose and be chosen, the part that was missing from my puzzle, and the one that I will want to scream with joy for weeks and months to come, and even longer if I find a way to make it happen without becoming chick-litty, lol!  For the first time ever I’m in love and being loved back; that’s a thinker when it happens at thirty-two… but I will keep on bragging, cos I deserve to shine and I deserve to be happy and true in my joy… and I just went into a tangent just as I was leaving, didn’t I?  Okay okay, I’ll finish up for now…

Cheers all!!  Bright blessings and many more good things for everyone!

The Lady Moon and soothing rain and other melodies that guide me...

So, my life-path has taken me back to Newcastle, then…  not quite today, however, since as you read this I am currently in Liverpool on my way to Macclesfield, but for all intents and purposes about what  I am doing in life now, let’s talk about Newcastle upon Tyne.

I arrived on Wednesday morning, late, as coaches sometimes tend to be; I was received by an incredible Hunter’s Moon, red and ghostly as she hid behind the clouds before disappearing into the far-off ground…  A blessing, she said it was, her blood-like colour waning, seen best by some back at my continent of origin (and perhaps by some as well here? I get lost and confused by the changes relating to GMT, and the fact that I have been living right there for the past three months seem to be of no help at all… not that it would, anyways, but  you know what I mean…).  A blessing, then, she said, and I understood her perfectly: I needed not see the eclipse because she is not hiding from me, nor do I need to hide from myself evermore; but she kept the red of passion, of the magical and historical elements that hooked me into this culture twenty years ago, of the drive that makes me push forward and remain, of the literary blood that flows in my veins and reveals all my worlds, of the love I found at the most unexpected turn of the very last corner I could have taken shy of three weeks ago…  The red that makes me learn and grow and dance as I carry on…  The red that symbolizes every aspect of the human heart…

And on the other side of the Lady Moon were the bridges, all lit in different measures, waking up at the break of dawn, bringing a smile to my lips, that sweet one that refers to nostalgias and bight futures all at the same time…  I’ve reached two of my goals all at the same time, without time to reflect on what it’d mean, what’s the best way to balance all, to keep going and make every step better without losing on bit of the greatness that has arrived…  That greatness means in both ways an incredible push for me to learn about the world once again; I feel inspired by the people who surround me to push my boundaries of creation, to use my new-found near-absolute health to work with the people and the land, to stretch my imagination (even more, that’s right!) and devise more words and messages of hope and empathy and the world becoming one…  I have always put in my grain of sand, but now I have crossed the line into those who shall carry buckets, or clean certain spaces of the beach, or perhaps help another soul build a sandcastle, because that’s what’ll bring about more hope…  I was afraid of the responsibility that healing meant, but this is it: my social conscience beckons for me to help as much I can in a more practical way than I have ever done before…  This will mean, of course, a lot more training, a lot more learning, and a lot more healing to be constantly done, but now that I see that the hard work is so rewarding, there is no way I could ever turn back on it again!

I had grown concerned over the past few months about my own thwarted need to return over and over to the same old subjects; I had lost a bit of myself years ago, and been focusing even since on getting it back, scary as it was because most of the time it just seemed so far away; everything changed as the two doors opened right in front of me, and I realized more than ever before how every single turn and loop and silly mistake and opportunities that I decided not to take have all led me to this particular moment, right here, right now, and it could not have been otherwise!  I have been saying that for the past couple years, at least, known it since about four years back, but it had to be as this Autumn reached me that all the wheels that had been turning just clicked into each other, and a new goal was created from it…  Well, “new” is not quite the word, since I’d been saying for a while that I wanted to become a Healer anyways, and Healing Spaces was the basis of my business and my coaching ideal anyhow, but every once in a while you just have to be a phone call away from bliss to notice how strong that “new” goal really is…

You see, I stare into eyes of rainy days permanently now, even at those times when I close my eyes.  What I see in the rain is always pure, always life: cooling and healing and intensely creative, cozy like home and brings me thoughts of coffee, books and cats… even the stormy weather, because the land is being swept for onwards regeneration, and thunder scrolls the heavens to intensify our energy for days to come… in those eyes I guess the stories that later are told with his voice of music, thyme and lore; and I am afraid of seeming like a newbie as he talks, and he makes me feel proud to be one, and it brings tears to my eyes as I think of it, much like it did on Monday as I walked into my room in London after the most intense week of my life (“What have I been doing so far?  What are my stories to tell?  Why am I so focused on myself when there is so much more out there?”).  Tears of shame or tears of gratefulness, you decide, I don’t care.  I know, just like we all do from a very young age, that none of us can give that which we don’t have, so I have to believe that this is the last bit of myself that I had to be ready for, in order to claim my prizes, and in order to be strong enough to give back to the world again!

The story of the two souls that touched ground at maybe just about the same time four years ago, he in Glastonbury, me in Stonehenge, some weeks apart and oblivious to the other, could yet be told one day if time and space allows, for both stories stretch back into growth and paradigm switches from ten, twenty, thirty years ago… Just imagine: one of my regenerations used to dress like a boy, one of his regenerations was a Goth; who knows what would have happened if we had met either one back then?  And both stories have enough swirling about until the time they came together… and so much more spinning lays ahead of us, because there is no stopping the path of knowledge once started!  Bear with me and perhaps someday we’ll tell; he’s done so much in his own way, I’ve done so much in mine, and as far as I know, this new volume has only just begun…!

So let me take you back to Newcastle, then, cos I have a word to keep with this past and possibly future home of mine: I have yet to say Thank You once again…!  I say “once again” because if any of you remembers correctly, that is how I started my blog in the first place, with my deepest heart-felt thanks to the University that gave me my first YES and is giving me now my second one… my story with Newcastle is one of connecting with my intuition and learning to say yes to life…  I will take license from myself to include the link here to my graduation speech, one I didn’t deliver but was highly acclaimed during the audition stage:

 http://sandratena.blogspot.co.uk/2013/12/opportunity.html

That is how I express myself, in any case, and I would not change a word from it to say thanks!  I will include my most inspirational teachers, Ann Coburn, Linda Anderson, Margaret Wilkinson, Jackie Kay and Will Fiennes, because they are most deserving of knowing that without their words and comments, both good or bad, I would not have found it in me the determination to keep pushing forward in all my areas… My novel is coming along, and even in my previous book, my short story collection, I thank all my teachers from here, much as I will thank again when Wideawake sees the light of day; they all deserve thanks, but I will point out that these five mentioned here were not just teachers to me, they were focus points for me to turn to, and they lighted my way in smaller or bigger ways so that I could turn something that was half-cooked into a full wedding cake to make and eat it too (crappy reference, seen as that particular short story did not make the best grades in the eyes of Linda Anderson, but I guess you’ll all have to judge it for yourselves when my second short story collection is ready to come into the light as well!). (Yes, that’s me trying to grab your attention with a wacky clue and see if I can make you want my second short story collection be finished soon so you can read me there as well) (Is it working?).

My story with Newcastle is far from over, though, but there is still more to be learned in life anyway, so I am more than glad to come back to this city for as short or long as needed for me to get a hold on that which I will make mine: my business, my books, my love-life as soon as we can stop skipping from town to town?  All right, that’s already mine, however far apart we are at times, and I could not be any more grateful for that wise and bright and beautiful presence in my life…!

All right, so I’ve kept it short this time around (almost!), and very very sweet, because how could it not be?  I can only say another time (more publicity for me), the other blogs I spoke about are shaping up, and the first one might already be up by the time this is being read, so keep on the lookout, because I am not dancing in the dark anymore: I’ve got light now, and I’ve got company, and the thing I want the most is to work out the many ways that I can join the ranks of people who are working hard to heal the world…

Blessings to all, and may you have a beautiful day, evening, week or weekend ahead of you!

 

PS, just have to say that the first thing I did as I walked into the Old Library Building was get lost because of the labyrinth of doors and stairs that English University buildings seem to consist of, and because of the imperceptiveness of my brain when it comes to looking at signs for the right amount of time before treading in the direction that I *think* I understand is the right one…  All right, first point in motion to keep working on so that I don’t keep getting myself, and other people lost as well…!

Paganism, Nebula 9, and more Doctor Who stuff to help me talk about Tolerance...

Well, I must say I am surprised at people’s reactions to what’s cool nowadays, what’s being “open minded”, what’s being accepting of that which in yesteryear wasn’t and whatnot…  No, I’m not talking about sexuality this time, although it might come up (who knows my tangents, right?).  I will say in a further entry (the one I’m withholding till the episode of The Glastonbury Mystery airs on YouTube) how funny it is to be a newcomer in a classic-fandom world; I have been referring a lot to Doctor Who in here, which I cannot help at all, seen as so much of my life revolves around that show, and how much it’s giving me, and I will refer to it a lot more today, not because of my ongoing obsession with it, but because it just gives a lot of material to bring examples from… All right, you caught me, it is very much because of my ongoing obsession with it.  Who am I kidding?  I’m an open book and you can all see right thru me!

Well, first of all, I have to state for the record that the subject for this entry came up a few weeks ago when I went to a pagan moot and there were some issues raised about my eclectic path and the bunch of people I was hanging out with (more eclectic pagans).  I lost it a little bit there, the first of a short sequence of times when I’ve allowed someone, for different reasons, to push my buttons in a way that does not make any kind of sense…  Thing is, because these matters can be complicated since there are many groups of conservative pagans that have chosen to follow through each guideline of the old religions, and also because I refused to believe that it had actually gotten so bad as to the point of perfect strangers saying insidious things to you just because you were on a “different” pagan path than they were, I let a conversation take a wrong turn and ended up being quite rude to that person as well; I had a witty comeback about how pagans had been shunned for centuries by the main religions and that if now that people can be open (or rather a *bit* more open) about these types of preferences we start shunning each other then we’re actually not getting anywhere new; but because I do have that little problem where in special social circumstances my mouth disconnects from my brain, nothing much of that came through.  I did notice, though, how extensive the subject is, and I did talk about it sometime last week or the week before, when someone actually alleged that I was saying that I am a geek because today, thanks to Doctor Who, the Avengers, Joss Whedon, Harry Potter, Tolkien, and The Big Bang Theory (just to name a few obvious examples), being a geek is cool.  Well, I did like quite a few of those things way before they were cool, and I was seriously terrorized at school because of them!  I cannot remember if I’d already told the story about how a guy I fancied during my BA actually stopped talking to me because I told him that I’d dreamt the night before that he’d told me I was Buffy… and that was like 10 years ago, so there!  Well, one thing I can say to the new generation is: enjoy this!  Bask in this, and enjoy that you can now openly take pleasure in so many wonderful things!!

Still, even between those openly Fandom groups things can get difficult at times, and it reminded me (or rather, one thing reminds me of the other), about pagans being shunned firstly by the religions and now by each other…  Many of the fandoms tend to compete a lot between them, and sometimes even the people from the same Fandom, when it comes to generational-type shows, such as Doctor Who and Star Trek.  I think that in a way it kind of makes sense, cos having open discussions about these important matters are half the fun of being in a fandom anyway, but it’s rather sad if you think how far some people take it… almost as bad as football fans!  Well, I got really lucky, cos in my Doctor Who group everyone is very respectful of each other and most actually find my newness into that world a little endearing, so yay!  But I have not been that lucky with other people, and, not that I care about any of them (cos they’re not even acquaintances anyway), I have to say that it breaks both my hearts to see so many going berserk about the smallest things about a show or universe or whatever…

There was a lovely example of this in a TV show that I love (well, I’ve got over 30 favourite TV shows, and this is one of them): In an episode from Castle, which I started watching because of my addiction to Firefly and absolutely favourited because it is so so funny and because of the amazing chemistry between Castle and Beckett, it happens that a young woman who’s trying to get an old TV show back on people’s minds gets murdered; that show was called Nebula 9, and from the looks of it, it’s like Star Trek and Babylon 5 but lower in quality (as it seems by the snooty comments Castle makes Beckett every time she says she used to like it). (And it's an obvious throwback to Firefly, just as Castle itself is covered in, so, looooove!). Right at the end of the episode, she closes with this speech, which I absolutely love:

‘You’re right, okay?  It was a stupid show.  I mean, a handful of Academy Cadets on a travelling mission and suddenly the Earth is destroyed and they´re all that’s left of humanity?  I completely understand why you hated it.  But, Castle, I also understand why people loved it.  Why Anabelle loved it.  It was about leaving home for the first time, about searching for your identity and making a difference.  I loved dressing up as Lieutenant Chloe.  She didn’t care what anybody thought about her.  And I kind of did, at that time.  I mean, she was a scientist AND a warrior, that was all in spite of the way she looked.  It was like I could be anything, and I didn’t have to choose.  So don’t make fun, ok? (...) Besides, it didn’t hurt that my legs looked great in the outfit…’

The “(…)” is when Castle is saying that he agrees with her, which is a Yay! cos she’s so right…  I have started seeing that everything (or at least most things) out there actually has a reason for being, a message being told to the readers, watchers and listeners; so, with the exception of those in which the message is actually bad for us, we should really start respecting each other’s likes and dislikes.  Who am I to say which has a good message and which has a bad one?  That’s easy, it’s all about common sense, and we all have it, so it’s mostly a matter of deeply considering what is on the page or on the screen, rather than just seeing it shimmer and thinking it’s pretty when in reality it’s not…

So, yes, I am really lucky that the group of people that I do the Doctor Who Imaginarium project with are very open to my newness (even about David Tennant!!  Gasp!!), and that makes me feel safe when I say the stupid things that sometimes come out of my mouth (especially when I have no control over them because my brain has disconnected again)…  In any case, they know that I have studied a lot about the Classic series, even if I haven’t watched any of it yet, but that usually gives me brownie points…

Oh, super-quick side note, cos I wanna share something that happened the other day and there is no way to go about it without saying *this* first…  As several of my friends and family know already, I am seeing someone now (Huzza!), but for personal, professional AND literary reasons, I will exercise my right to drip-feed information about him on the blog.  However, since the anecdote cannot be told without explaining WHO (no pun intended! Honestly!) I was referring to, I shall say only *this* bit about our relationship: because he is a major geek (had to be, otherwise I would not have fallen for him, could I?) and one of them Walking Geek Encyclopedia types at that, we’ve already had the “David Tennant talk”.  Long and short of it, he’s con, I’m pro.  Rose Tyler, sigh, the same.  So it happened that while I was having a coffee with a friend the other day, I said (quite loudly, as I usually say these things when I get over-excited) “We’re perfect for each other: he doesn’t like David Tennant and I am very okay with that!”.  Need I even say that a sentence like that can bring about all kinds of funny looks from people?  A passerby gave me one of those looks that I’ve grown so used to that can’t even be described as the strangest look I’ve ever got, and I laughed so much that it just prolounged it, by the way…

So, wait, was this just a way for me to brag that I’ve got a boyfriend now even though I’ll not be talking much about him yet?  Yeah, kind of, lol, but it’s still linked to the subject at hand, because he truly respects anyone who has a really deep, real, passionate point of view about things that he might not agree with…  Most of them, anyway, cos he doesn’t like that fake shimmer that some things have which shouldn’t have, either, and we’re so okay with each other about that.

This brings to mind how I got into Doctor Who in the first place, and I’m still in the “before it was cool” gray area in Mexico, so even if I’m so new in that world here in England, back there it’s still considered “strange look” material…  Anyhu, the thing was that I kept hearing little things about that show, including my friend Alan telling me to watch it, and it being mentioned over and over in Big Bang, so one day I decided to check it out, and it so happened that an episode was just finishing so I tuned in to see what I could glimpse…  What I saw was a lonely beach and a blonde crying her heart out, with a group of people watching from far away and crying a little too.  Then this skinny man appears and tells her that he’s burning a star to say good-bye and that they’re never gonna be able to see each other again…  She cries, he cries, she says I love you, he says Rose Tyler I—and disappears.  I say What the hell? and see that the skinny man is now inside the TARDIS (yes, that much I knew, even though when I moved to Newcastle I spoke too fast and referred to it as the TARGIS for the first time aloud… got one of *those* looks from the book vendor I was  talking with, yes.), and he’s crying and things seem sad and I am just about to ask another question (yes, to the TV set), and a red-headed woman appears and turns around.  She’s wearing a wedding gown and demanding to be taken back to the church. The episode ends with both the skinny man and me yelling What??

Now, I refer to Tennant as the “skinny man” cos at that time there were still pictures of Christopher Eccleston in the TV guide and stuff, and even though I faintly recall people telling me about the regeneration, at that moment my brain was not quick enough to process all the information.  All I knew was that I had no idea what had just happened and that I now had an overly-demanding need to watch the show so that I could understand what it was all about.  Funny thing is, I didn’t know there’d be so many parallels between Tennant’s Doctor and my life --er, minus the timey-wimey stuff…  Think about it: super-old man who’s been traveling alone for ages and suddenly finds himself with a need that he probably hadn’t had for ages, maybe ever since he created the family that delivered him his granddaughter (minus a flirt and a snog here and there, of course, Rose included)… that’s when he finds himself looking pretty and fit and telling everyone that he’s so clever and making many people hate him because of that, and to top it all, in front of a pretty young thing that has the hots for him…  Anyone might fall for that, come on!  Even now, with Capaldi, even though he was the first to say that because the Doctor was old again there would be no flirting, how many people might not be falling for him?  If he’s good enough for Milady to try and seduce him, I’m willing to bet that even as the Doctor he has more than one heart throbbing for him.  Or what, just because he’s of a certain age he doesn’t deserve any love? Or any of the other Doctors, for that matter?  Sarah Jane had a thing for Four, I think, and Davidson was actually very annoying to fans because of his suave quality, wasn’t him?  Anyway, yes, they played it wrong having a full-on romance between Ten and Rose, but if you think about it for a bit, it is the tale of the absolute ultimate loneliness…  I mean, the guy actually had to see his own *clone* stay back with Rose while *he* had to walk away alone again…  And yes, Doctor Who is and should remain being way more than about romantic issues, so I do not fully agree on everything about that particular story arch, but I will always defend the Doctor’s right to wish for love…

That’s a subject that has been running about in social media, especially now that Capaldi is nailing it (for many) and the show is being taken back to its origins, but I kinda had to have my two cents in… that and brag that I have a boyfriend now, yay!  (Which, by the way, also implicates a shift in paradigm settings, how deep is that?)  (Oh, no, I do not mean that I will be con-Tennant now, just that he’s not my Doctor anymore, and I’m happy with that) (Wait, he’s still my Doctor within the show’s running, but he’s not anymore the one that I fantasize about)  (I mean, I’ve always said that I’m so in love with myself because of Ten, right?  So what’s the harm in choosing another Doctor now?)  (Holly crap on a cracker, this is probably making me sound really weird to anyone who doesn’t know the full context of what I’m saying)  (Meh, I’m used to sounding weird, so I’ll leave it like that).

In any case, I went off on a tangent again, but it rounds back to the whole “Respect your neighbouring Fandom” thing, right?  I hope?  Rather, like I said before, I know that there will always be people going for or against something we like, and discussion will arise whether we try to remain impartial or not… that is pretty healthy most of the time, but even the discussion part should be respectful, cos everyone in the world has given us a hard enough time as it is since decades unspoken of, so why give each other the same hard time now that we are so free to like what we like?

Or course, I admit that the subject also flowed because of how happily I can state that I am in a very respectful relationship (it’s not all just about the bragging… well, it is, cos he really is a great guy!)…  Respect is our banner, and the geekier the topic is, the better we meet in the middle: he’s more Star Wars, Star Trek and Charmed, I’m more Buffy, Firefly and Harry Potter, and it just makes us click…  His Doctors are the ones no one likes; my Doctor is the one I *thought* no one liked (until memes and Facebook proved me otherwise and I went Oh crap, I’m mainstream! Oh well).  He’s giving me more options about what to watch and read and listen to, and I seem to be giving him more drive to complete the creative cycles he began even before we met, so I think we’re working out…  I ramble on too much, more often than not in incomplete sentences and giggling fits; he rambles on too much, more often than not making me break out in even louder laughing fits…  And we don’t always know the book or show or artist the other one is talking about, but we’ve got willingness to learn!  That amazing non-presumption, which I’ve found in someone of clearly higher intelligence than normal, is what makes me want to shout out to the world that we could all be happier if we respected each other a little bit more…  What I mean is, he could easily have ended up a Sherlock or a Sheldon, but he’s got more empathy than Watson and Leonard put together; and let’s not stop loving Sherlock and Sheldon, please, cos those are the characters that drive the others to betterment anyway, but let’s not try to *be* them, either…  And what I mean by him having a higher intelligence is because he’s wacky and he knows it and has the most wonderful sense of humour about it…  Oh, that’s it exactly, isn’t it?  It’s not always just about IQ (although in his case, because of the amount of books he’s read and the deepness of his thoughts, yeah, I can vouch that it’s got a lot to do with IQ), but intelligence shows a great deal by how a person can view the world and themselves with humour…  If we’d all use humour in our lives, the world would be a more intelligent place, probably, and so much healthier…

And FYI, fortunately everyone from my friends and family has always been very respectful of my or anybody else’s quirkiness, but who knows who has to read this message, right?  Especially since there is still so much bullying going about, and knowing that many people in my close circles have suffered as much, or even more, than I from it…

So I close and bid you all a good day, good night, good weekend, good week or whatever it is going to be as you finish reading this entry of mine...

Cheers!

(Oh, and by-the-by, fezzes are not cool… just couldn’t leave without saying it… lol)