07 March 2010


I have fabulous friends. Life reveals them as such. Just this week, some got married in the most unusual of places, some got broken up with and got through it with dignity, some got to feel more at ease with themselves, some got their dream jobs, some got so lucky with their Guardian Soulmates date that they are parents now; and some got back into my life. This week has, indeed, been quite eventful. Yet somehow I stayed put. It reminded me of the time I spent in rural Austria when in the evenings I would climb up to a wooden hide and watch the deer graze. Just watch life and its fabulousness.

I also turned off unhelpful voices with supposedly important and urgent messages, such as: you haven’t read enough for this chapter, you should work harder, you should get out of the house to catch some sunshine, and spent the weekend listening to Rachelle Farrell. Now this is the voice! A six octave range and the heart of a lioness. When she sings, I think of a wolf howling at the Moon. Not because the sound is similar to howling (though there are some vocal exhibitions that surpass ‘regular’ singing, and I mean it in a oh-my-god-this-is-so-fucking-good sense), but because she sounds as if she has no other choice but to sing. Like, the Moon is out and the instinct is there to sing – she was born to do it. She is the sound of fabulousness.

Then something fabulous happened, or should I say transpired. I didn’t have to do or be anything that radiates fabulousness. This resonated with the words of my Aikido teacher who said – you have most power when you don’t move at all. These days, he only uses his gaze to discourage whoever wants to ‘fight’ him. In this little bubble of ‘not having to’, with my hips stubbornly anchored in stillness, I sensed fabulousness creeping up on me. Now is this madness or freedom?

PS. A friend of mine watched a girl he liked for months. Every weekend, she just stood in the corner of a room and observed people having fun. When he finally got enough courage to approach her and ask her out, she turned out to be an anthropologist.

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