It's Thursday

Being an antipodean, I'm often saddened by the knowledge that Christmas in the northern hemisphere is cold and framed in tiny daylight hours. My birthday in the north is cold as well, which I dance a jig to a month earlier.

Having been born at such a time of year I've recently wondered how Sagittarians born in the north got such a reputation as free and independent beings. Being a naturally born spring child, it feels like it makes much more sense; the free spirited adventurer.

Here in Germany, I'm reduced to hoping for a little sunshine and not to be up to my ears in wool (unless it's from Aussie sheep, and then it all starts to make more sense) or synthetic (recycled plastic bottles anyone?).

Do I sound nostalgic? A little. This time of year does that to me.

It isn't just the seasons that turn me upside down (which sneakily raises the question of which side is up, but I'll try not to mention that Australia is the oldest land mass); it's the whole traditions that surround this time of year. I can live with the gluhwein and cosy corners, but to be wrapped into a sanitised, traditionalised Christmas that reeks with consumerism makes me a little crazy.

Don't get me wrong. Australia has its own horrifying version, but at least you can escape outdoors. You could escape Christmas completely by getting lost in some remote outpost that is unreachable by phone, fax or courier pigeon.

Tradition is something Australians are free of and enamoured by, all at the same time. For a young nation, we have dedicated time and energy into creating myths and stories to create a sense of who we are and what we stand for. Nevertheless, like all true young nations, there is still much room for growth and expansion and this is the part that I miss.

Germany is filled with tradition and in that, one can feel content, meaningful and settled. For a Sagittarian, this can also spell danger.

So, it's Thursday, and I'm getting ready for the months ahead. Grateful for a warm home, food on the table and love. But I’m also planning my escape back home for Christmas 2011. I need open skies, BBQs and Christmas cards with Santa on a surf board. Then all will be well with the world.

Love Affair

I often think living as an accidental foreigner is a little bit like having a love affair.

The first stages can be incredibly exciting, interesting, exhausting and intense. The feelings are high high or low low, but the feelings are definitely there. A certain privileged feeling of being somewhere special, unique even lovely... which somehow passes on its magic to self and I become those things to. Projection has its place.

Then comes the reality check. The, Oh! so that's what you're like in the morning, and before you've brushed your teeth, and after a hard night. So now I see how you cope when things get tough or I ask too many questions or look for understanding or feel needy. The comparison with former lovers, former 'places we've lived'. We start to get amnesia and forget the worst of the past, and fall in love with our re-told stories of past lives, places, loves and experiences. Love has its magic formulas.

At the core, we feel lost. Lost in ourselves. Who are we in this great new love?

Reality is a great hairy monster that we either be-friend all over again and fall in love with in a new, invigorated and more real way than before or, we never quite recover.

The second wave is never as intense, but either the feelings grow deeper, or you come to the realisation that infatuation still has a footprint in your life.

Where you live is not just about the space we occupy it's about the people, the energy, the ethos, the 'feeling' we have when we are there even if we can't exactly name what it is. Living as an accidental foreigner asks us to fall in love with where we live, or at least be open to exploring the options of love.

We should never feel we've failed to love enough in a relationship, nor should we fear falling out of love. Love is incredibly individual, although sometimes it is an exercise in faith, hope and forgiveness.  And I don't say those things lightly.

If you don't 'love' the person you are with and/or the place you are in and have kept open the door of love in either situation, then the questions might be: 'Does it matter?' If yes: 'What now?'

Some reflections on summer days and football

Actually only half of the title is important for me, and no, it's not football.

I don't mean to be anti things just because they are popular and the masses follow them, but a little devil inside of me tends to loose rapid interest once it reaches such over spun proportions.

As a child of 10, staying up till 4am to watch the FA cup finals was not only exciting, it felt like something rather special too.  Today, being 1 amongst 2 billion worldwide kind of narrows that sense of something special and unique.  

For many, that will make me an exceptionally boring companion during these intense times, but I can show a simulacrum of interest if required in social situations.  It's the polite thing to do, isn't it?

What I do love however, are these gorgeous summer days, not because they are popular, but because they are just irresistible.  Possibly also because they are rarer than I would like.   I love these long summer evenings that invite a mixture of activity, relaxation, conversations and quiet sleepy reflection.


But getting back to that anti thing.  It could easily be argued that it is a latent slip into childish rebellion.  Go against the flow, test boundaries... and maybe there is something in it.  But how many of us need to test these boundaries a little more?  Look deeper into the heart and soul to find what really makes the heart beat a little faster.

There are a few in life that really know how to live their life to a different drum-beat.  To become trendsetters in their own world.  Leaders that more often than not, don't recognise they are seen this way because they are too busy listening to their own heart, their own soul.  How many of us truly feel internally aligned with our own journey and truth?


Sure we are social creatures, desiring social contact and interaction, even the seriously non-meaningful kind found around a football game.  It sings to our need to belong.  To be apart of a collective.  To feel the power of community.  Which is powerful stuff while it lasts.

And it is all too easy to be a follower.  Everyone is a follower in one or more areas of their lives, but how do we really want to show up in the world?  In those quiet still hours when no one else is around, who do we want to be for ourselves?

I'm writing this as I sit on our little balcony, feeling a gentle breeze and listening to crowds spontaneously cheer from a shared collective space.

Cheers and here's to summer!!

The smiling antedote!

When was the last time you found yourself smiling at a complete stranger as you walked past them in the street?  I use this technique for my own sanity along with the idea that I like to progress goodwill in the world by a smile.  One step at a time! :-)
On the other hand, when was the last time you smiled  and laughed in the hope that no one would actually require you to respond with words?  I use this technique to overcome my frequent uncertainty to what people are actually saying.  Dialects are not my strong point.  Often I find myself in a situation when a simple response would suffice, except, I don't know what that response needs to be.  So in comes the wide grin and a half snort of acknowledgment with a quick retreat to a place where I hope to recover my equilibrium. 
I'm sure there are a number of people I've encountered over the years that have either been horribly offended or simply perplexed by this weird red-headed smiling woman.  Overcoming my horror of embarrassing myself and others is one great challenge that I meet with a smile.
Mostly it goes a long way to generating goodwill.

Finally I found the delete button.

Freedom from tyranny at last. My own tyranny that is.

After doing some basic research analysis on my newsletters coming into my inbox, I was so shocked to discover over 220 and counting that I proceeded to selectively unsubscribe.

I feel considerably lighter, and assured that whatever 'gems' I may be missing, will come to me in another form if it is something that I need to 'know'.

Now the challenge is not to accidentally start signing up for more, now that I have time to do more 'research'.

Tally ho!

Máire