Re-inventing yourself

How often do we re-invent ourselves? On a daily basis perhaps.

If the re-invention process is successful I wonder what I should do with the old ‘self’, the old Marjorie. Then I realised that it’s not really possible – for me, at least – to separate myself into ‘old’ and ‘new’ versions of me. My life is a tad more complicated than that. I think that I manage multiple parts of my personality at the same time. Let me explain. With different relationships I have a different part of me to share with each person: that’s almost like wearing a different mask, or showing a different face. It’s all me, but different. Like the sun, it’s all sun but it looks different at different times of the day and from various locations of the earth.

I remember when a cousin first travelled to the UK from Jamaica, I saw him standing at the window on his first morning in the shires, he was just looking at the sky. Then he spoke, slowly, and a touch sadly, “The sun is a lie.” I was puzzled, but he continued, his head turned slightly to one side with the heavy disappointment of losing a familiar friend, “It looks like the sun, but it doesn’t feel like the sun.” His conclusion made sense. His relationship to the sun had altered with the miles of travel, but the sun was still the same, just showing a different side of itself in a different situation. Here it was necessarily lightly masked by clouds and driven by wind.

What works in one place doesn’t necessarily work in another. The same can be said for relationships and the parts of our personality that we share.

In a way we can be like the sun and become so good at masking the various parts of our character that we build up a hard exterior and hide under layers of self-deception.  The main concern that I have is that one day it may become too hard to take off any of the masks. The more I think about it, the chief problem that I see with having this interchangeable mask-like life is that one mask may be so effective that it becomes the only one we wear, and then we lose the other, valuable, parts of ourselves.

If we re-invent to prevent others from seeing us, then we have to tread cautiously in case – in the process – we change a single temporary mask into a permanent suit of full-body armour.

The last thing we should do is to be a lie.

I know it’s not comfortable to continue life as an invention, a fiction, a life behind a mask.

I am not my hair

I am not my hair ...

My hair – 9^th April 2013 

... but what will it be like tomorrow? 

© Marjorie H Morgan (2013) 

“You have good hair”

“Is it real?”

“Can I touch it?”

“Have you got any weed?”

“Ha! Jackson 5 hair.”

“Is it all yours?”

“It feels like a carpet.”

“Can I use it for a weave?”

“How do you do it like that?”

“Do you have bad hair?”

“I like it when you wear your hair down.”

“I like it when you wear your hair up.”

“Can I play with it?”

“Is it hard?”

“Is it soft?”

“Does it hurt?”

“It suits you.”

“I don’t like your hair like that.”

“How often do you wash it?”

“Can you comb it?”

“Does it feel like a Brillo pad? It looks like one.”

“Your hair is so soft.”

“You have tough hair.”

“Have you ever cut it?”

“Don’t cut it.”

“Cut it, it’s too long.”

I am not my hair. My hair is part of my identity. Or so it seems. People always have a lot to say about other people’s hair. I have been no exception. I have shared a few of the comments I have heard over the years. These are all fresh in my mind now because I am thinking about cutting my hair – much shorter.

I have no idea why this thought process has taken so long to come to any sort of firm conclusion so I’m releasing them here to find some clarity.

For years as a child I was told that I had “good hair”. What is that exactly? What makes hair good or bad? It’s ability to grow faster than other hair? I guess so because mine did (and still does) just that.

I am on my second lot of locs. The first set I cut off completely about 9 years ago. Back then I grew them down my back, pretty much the same as I have now; this lot is longer – I can almost sit on them now. My history of locs seem to be a cycle of letting them grow and then cutting them off, but the cutting time also appears to have been delayed by me right now. I’ve been musing on a quick trim, a medium cut, or a totally new start for a while but still I hesitate and the scissors stay sheathed. Why is it such a big issue to cut my hair right now – I think it’s starting to become a big thing so I’ve been reflecting on the history of my hair and hair as part of identity.

I’ve looked back at my photographs and remembered what I was doing when I had different hair styles. My hair really does tell a journey of my growth and change in different circumstances. But surely that was my hair changing and not me? Different hair styles show a difference but they don’t show all of me. I am not my hair.

However, I do like having some hair. You see, I’ve been thinking about the loss of hair – through accident, illness, age, or choice. Each situation has a different affect on the person involved. Hair is more important that I first gave it credit for. It’s part of a uniform, a means of entry or exclusion from different groups; it is a badge of identity. Hair has a character all of its own. Hair is both political and social. How your hair is worn has links to gender divisions, theories about sexuality, images of beauty and power and concepts of ‘wrong’ or ‘right’ hair.

Hair speaks volumes whether a skinhead or locs-head. Hair, like eyes or clothes, is a window into a person’s identity.

This has led me back to thinking.

I am not my hair ... or am I?

To snip or not to snip? That is the question ...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E_5jIt0f5Z4

India.Arie - I Am Not My Hair ft. Akon

Locked in

Prisons are not places that people usually choose to go to. However, some people who have relative freedom can find themselves locked into certain prisons.

I have discovered that there are situations where fear can imprison you and you remain as securely isolated as if you were being prevented from escaping by bars, locked doors and armed guards in surveillance towers.

Poverty is also a way of efficiently preventing people from moving from their current situations. Some circumstances can be altered by sheer will power, others may need more assistance.

If there is a way out of incarceration I’m always going to take it. I will make my own escape plan and  - if the opportunity arises – I will work with others to leave the cells of destruction, but I will not remain locked in - it’s not healthy.

Qualities and Blessings

There are times in life when we cannot see our own wonderful qualities. This is where others come into the picture. (You could also use a mirror to physically look at yourself or the mental reflective mirror is also useful to discover these qualities.)

In case you are having difficulties pinpointing one right now I am going to provide a starting list of qualities and suggest you pick any one of them, because I know they are all relevant to you. Go on, try this, it’ll be fun and revealing.

Qualities:

Strength                      Politeness                    Kindness                     Sincerity

Honesty                       Humility                       Charity                         Civility

Courteous                   Sympathy                    Empathy                      Compassion

Altruism                       Wisdom                      Judgement                   Enthusiasm

Focus                          Respect                      Awareness                   Attentiveness

Patience                      Punctuality                  Flexibility                      Self-control

Resourcefulness        Discretion                   Determination               Sensitivity

I could go on, but I’m sure you’ve picked out more than a hand-full already. But you only need one for this part of the exercise, you can go back and do it again later with another one. That proves how many wonderful qualities you have already from this incomplete starter list.

The next thing to do is to create for yourself a blessing using the handy blessing template I have provided below:

It’s a one-size-fits-all template – all you have to do is to fill in the sections after putting your chosen quality in the first section. For example, “I accept for myself the gift of ... strength.”

I think you’ll be able to do the rest on your own.

Enjoy your qualities and your blessings. Remember to repeat this exercise regularly for a good outlook on your life.

You deserve your blessings because ... you have the qualities and you’re worth it!

Create a blessing

I accept for myself the gift of ....................................................................................

I experience its power to be present in my life as .....................................................

...................................................................................................................................

May it enable me to change ......................................................................................

...................................................................................................................................

And may it bring me the deep experience of ............................................................

...................................................................................................................................

Forgive or be stoopid

Forgiveness is important.

We all want it when we have done something wrong. But, I have observed, that it is not so easy for some people to give forgiveness to others. This fact was brought home to me by my child.

We were talking about an incident where an accident had happened and someone we know was badly hurt. This, of course, made everyone sad.

“Whose fault was it?” asked M.

“It was an accident,” I replied, “but the person in charge of the event was a friend of Adam’s.”

“Are they still friends?” came the immediate inquiry.

I laughed. “Yes, they are.” Then I paused as I thought about when the accident had happened. 

“Interestingly,” I continued, “Now Adam’s family really can’t stand Zak and blame it all on him. While Zak and Adam have just got on with their friendship. I do think Adam was upset at first but he got over it quickly because it was, after all, an accident.”

“Why don’t the others get over it as well then?”

“Well, they can’t forgive Zak for hurting Adam you see.”

“Why?”

“Because they love Adam and Zak was the cause of all his injuries.”

“But he didn’t do it on purpose, did he?”

“No. It was an accident.”

“I think they’re stupid.”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s not nice not to forgive people. If Adam had caused the accident then they’d be on bended knee asking Zak’s family for forgiveness for him, wouldn’t they?”

“I guess so.”

“Well then, if they don’t forgive Zak for what he did then they’re just as bad as if they caused the accident themselves. They’re just causing more pain. They’re stoopid.”

I just nodded.

Then M added, after more thought, “Just because you forgive doesn’t mean you have to forget, does it?”

“No, of course not. It just means you don’t have any negative feelings or anger associated with the thoughts. You have to leave the bitterness behind and move on. You know, learning from the situation, but not letting it continue to hurt you. When you don’t forgive, I mean when you keep the anger inside you, it’s like tasting the most horrible thing and keeping it in your mouth instead of letting it go. You have to spit bitterness out, you know.”

“Are they really still angry with Adam’s friend even when he’s not?”

“I hope not, but I don’t know.”

“I think that’s really stoopid.”

Creeping imagination

Have you ever had that feeling that something you dislike has touched you without you knowing? I mean, for example, a spider is crawling on your arm. Then you do those jerky movements that look like a parent’s bad dance at a wedding. You know those times, don’t you?

I just did.

The recent high winds and the neighbours cats have caused severe damage to one of the fence panels in my garden (well, this one more than the rest) and it looked like the Costa Concordia as it listed away from the other upright panels. Other neighbours, houses away from mine, have stopped me in the street and mentioned that they saw it falling over it, so I knew it was time to remove it.

Hatted and gloved against the weather I went forth into the garden.

The rotting wood fell easily away from the attached posts. I thought then this was going to be easier than I had imagined and wondered why I had delayed removing this eyesore for so long. As I leant forwards to lift some of the broken pieces of wood I felt something touch my back.

It was a light touch, and it instantly unnerved me because I was wearing several layers of clothing.

I dropped the broken panels to the ground and jumped backwards. That’s when the dancing started. My arms were making strange geometrical shapes with my body as I struggled to release the foreign object from near my skin. I could feel it moving down my back. It was all I could do not to scream out.

As I jerked frantically I felt something move lower down my back I flung off the gardening gloves and reached for it. With disgust I threw a small dark object to the ground. It was a spider! I knew it was, wasn’t it? I peered at the ground but the pebbles disguised it, but I was right, wasn’t I? I felt my skin crawl as I continued to fan my clothing away from my body to let any other creepy crawlies loose.

What I did next surprised me.

I shook my clothes one more time then retrieved the gloves and continued to clear the broken wood away from the edges of the garden. Once they were in a neat pile I walked swiftly to the kitchen door.

Then, it started again; that creepy feeling that something unbidden was touching me. This time I didn’t feel anything new I saw a spider (yes, a real one) on the doorstep. I flicked it off, back into the garden, and as I touched it it curled up into a ball. That was it! I was convinced that what had touched me earlier was really a spider. I lost all reserve and flew through the door.

I ascended the steps rather quickly and in moments I was in the bathroom and stripping off my clothes. As I did so I shook each item – away from me – to see what was in there. I checked my back in the mirror and, thankfully, nothing was there. As I turned my clothing back inside out something fell to the floor. I jumped back convinced it was a spider. It lay there in a dark ball, not moving.

I didn’t want to move first but I had to move before it did, so I backed up, all the time keeping my eyes on that spot, and reached for some toilet tissue. As I approached it again I tried to identify it. Was it really just a dried up berry or was it a disguised spider. With my exposed skin tightening in fear I enclosed the ball with the tissue. It did not move. I gingerly picked it up and found out that it was a berry.

Now, that should have calmed all my fears, yet it didn’t.

I was still using my hand to brush invisible spiders from my back. My imagination had created a colony of them crawling all over me and the evidence of the berry as it lay in the tissue did not convince me that there hadn’t already been at least one of them crawling on me.

You know those times, don’t you?

You don’t?

Oh, it’s just me then ...

Emergency Services

What do firemen do when there isn’t a fire? They are generally thought to sit around doing nothing, and although I know that isn’t the case I still went through the thought process of ‘What’s the point of having firemen on call?’

Before you get up on all those high horses I do know the reason, really I do. And I appreciate it, a lot.

I just like to think, extrapolate and cogitate for the fun of it.       

I got to thinking ‘’What if ... there were no firemen, no ambulance crew, no doctors, no emergency services on standby – ever. What if ... we went back to the olden days when these were just secondary jobs in communities? Would we survive well?’

Risk assessment takes place in the work place, school, office and street every day and we have things in place ... just in case.

I mean, my car has air bags and reinforced doors just in case I am involved in another road traffic accident. 

They are there because someone asked ‘What if ...?’ I forget about them most of the time, however, I’m glad they are there.

I guess, it’s a bit like God. For me, I don’t always have a constant connection to Him, but I do regard Him as more than an Emergency Service, to me God is there for much more than ‘What if’s’ God is in my life because ... without this comfort and belief in more then I think I would be nervously asking ‘What if... ?’ most of the day!

It’s heavy ...

Sometimes the heaviest things that I have ever carried are my thoughts.

I sometimes wonder what I should do with these weighty opinions that press down on me. When someone asks me to share them, I wonder if I really should.

Can I risk lightening my load? (It sounds silly when put like that, after all, who wouldn’t want to take pressure off themselves?)

Then I remember the phrase, “Follow your instincts, you’ll be fine!” and I do, and I am.

It’s so much lighter now.

It’s a blessing and a curse ...

This is a familiar line from the Monk detective series. Adrian Monk is usually talking about his skills as a detective - who happens to have OCD.

I have been thinking about something rather different: beauty.

Is the gift of beauty a blessing or a curse?

I’ve heard that it is advisable to use beauty as a business and career asset. What do you think? Have you done it? Does your CV or Resume have - listed under transferrable skills and assets - the legend beauty shown?

I have just been wondering how, if you are beautiful, you go about enhancing this attribute to your best advantage, you know, for rapid career progression.

I know many beautiful people and they have said that being seen as attractive is more often than not a curse because they suffer from the lack of genuine observation of their intelligence or their personality.

They sometimes wish their gift of beauty away or hide it beneath clothes and behaviour. Is this fair?

This made me think about what else, as a natural phenomenon could be used as a business asset?

Should any birthright be cultivated for a career? Maybe Tyra Banks could give me some answers on this ... then more people could become the Top Model in their particular field.  

Be ... who you are

To be who you really are you need the right space, the right passion and the right reasons.

In other places, with other people, it’s like you’re on vacation from your own life. When it’s right, you’re THERE: fully present and active in your own life.

You can’t be WHO you are otherwise.

Find it (space), find it (passion) find them (people). 

Be who you really are.

Protective Factors

Most people have an intrinsic desire to live. They have factors in their lives that protect them against taking unnecessary risks and ending up in dangerous situations.

Other people, sadly, are devoid of the protective factors in their lives that guard them against negative acts to themselves or others. This is usually the case when relationships break down, when beliefs about relationships are questioned and the social bonds that hold us together are difficult to hold on to.

This is not just some random anthropological or social theory, this is a reality – to me, and to many others.

When I was decades younger I thought I was always to be denied regular involvement in special peoples’ lives. I believed that routine bonds and relationships were never meant for me. The continuous denial of my reality caused me to seriously think about a negative action in my life.

It wasn’t helped at all by the fact that in my family keeping secrets and denying the truth were regular behaviours. I felt excluded, and I quickly realised that the bond that kept others together, was not part of my makeup.

All the protective factors that I saw easily glide into others’ lives seemed like a rocket ride to the moon far away for me – impossible. Their positives became my living negatives; it really hurt. It was a period of intense anxiety as my personal identity was realised.

As I became more isolated from meaningful family relationships my sense of crisis was deepened. I went undercover in my ownfamily.

While others did not seem at all bothered by the obvious secret, to me it became almost too heavy to bear. I was sorely tempted to throw it off the top of a local hill – without a parachute.

Somehow I found my own social bonds that have become vital protective factors in my life. For these I am eternally grateful. What others may slip into easily, like a birthright, I had to struggle to reach but now it fits like a hand-made glove.

I have relationships that have altered my perspective and given me a deep sense of social meaning and focus. I have my own protective factors in my life and I am bouncing with well-being and happiness.

Half-hearted

Who wants half-hearted efforts in anything?

Are there any takers for people who are lukewarm about ... anything or everything? I don’t think there will be that much rush to snap those particular people for any team.

I think it’s plain to see that we don’t want uncommitted people working for us or with us. How about apply the question to yourself?

When you do something you really should be totally committed to it. Work in your time frame and to your ability, you will eventually (at the right point for you) be ready to share your passion with the world ... and the world will then be ready to accept the fruits of your commitment.

Half-hearted attempts really don’t cut the mustard.

(Have you ever tried cutting a mustard seed? Focus and determination are required.)

Comparisons

We all seem to hate being compared to other people – either because we feel we are too superior to them or that we are totally overwhelmed by them. But, it is a fact of life, that no one is free from comparisons.

Recently I heard a woman on the radio being compared to her father. He was a playwright, she is a playwright ... altering one of his seminal pieces. She felt overwhelmed by his legacy. But, nevertheless, she did her very best. It appeared she did a fantastic job.

Some people may not agree. Because they will always hold someone up as the higher standard to measure things against. That does not alter the fact that if you do your best, you have done your best: that is your own personal standard and you have succeeded – outstandingly.

Serve your dream

Recently I have been researching the life and philosophy of The Hon. Sir Willard White for my Historical Geographies blog.  I have read several things written about him and seen his performances. Some of my greatest insights into the reasons why he is where he is today have come from listening to him speak about himself, his life and the journey her has taken.

In one interview, broadcast on CBC Radio in2009, he spoke at length with Bill Richardson about achieving your own particular dream. The way he phrased it has stayed with me since that time.

Willard White said that when you “serve your dream” you will inevitably face questions and obstacles but you can always get over them (or around them) by just being who you are and doing what you want to do ... and you will do it beautifully.

Serving your dream means to be faithful to your vision’s integrity: you have to believe in it, and live for it and continue to be inspired by it. Willard White did this.

I can do it.

You can do it.

My biggest critic

... is me. But there is an upside to that comment as well. You see, my biggest cheerleader is also me! I just have to get those aspects of me in balance to live a healthy mental life.

There are times when I get down. I don’t mean sad, I mean really depressed. And it’s then that I think ‘What’s the point?’

What I now know for sure is that we often get the courage to carry on at the very point when we are ready to give up. This has happened to me repeatedly.

My inner critic will berate me and beat me up and I really want to give up. I intend to. Then, right at that last moment, I awaken the dormant courage that I realise I have and I am practically invincible again. I believe in myself and I know that I must carry on because I owe it to myself.

It’s that simple ... and that hard.

I look at myself and know that I must make the effort ... for me. I do. I will. Thus doing I silence my biggest critic.

Rah, rah, rah!

Source of confidence

Last week I was privileged to attend a meeting with outstanding academics and as soon as I was in that environment I was imbued with a fresh charge of confidence.  The people in the same room as me exuded a sense of assurance that made me proud to be amongst them.

As serious topics were discussed I made notes and thought of questions to pose and answers to give. There was an electric charge of positivity that was as refreshing as a spring rain after a season of drought.

On my drive home I wondered where and how different people get confidence in their ability. Do they gain it from others or is it personally created. At some point people have to believe in themselves, whether they are gifted a seed or they make their own: personal confidence in you ability can take you a long way.

This much I know.

Feed me, Seymour!

This is a contrary post (considering some of my recent posts) nevertheless I will continue.

I sometimes get hungry.

This is not the regular appetite type of hunger, This is when my skin gets hungry. I have a skin hunger that needs to be fed. And what exactly can satisfy this desire?

Difficult question and complicated answer.

Some answers are best served with an illustration. Let me try that now.

One evening Heather suddenly felt isolated in the middle of a hotel. A pleasant group meal had turned sour and she was unexpectedly under attack. She became child-like in her response. Heather wanted to turn away and hide. She found a corner and began to cry. When she looked for comfort and reassurance from those close to her she didn’t receive any. The space around her grew wider. 

She was a long way from home where everything safe and familiar. Heather didn’t know that she was having an intense desert-like experience. She had felt the pangs before, now she was hit with the full hunger. She had skin hunger.

The person she had expected to touch her did not. That made the situation substantially more profound. As Heather tried to escape to her hotel room to ride out the pain there was a breach through her boundary walls. Someone reached out, with the softest gentlest touch possible. A touch full of genuine concern. The intensity of that continued touch was like an electric current buzzing through Heather’s skin. She knew it instantly and she dreaded it as well because it woke her up to the void that had enveloped her before that moment.

Heather was sated in that moment. She would never forget it.

So, sometimes I get hungry and I want to be fed. Unlike the Little Shop of Horrors I will not devour everything that is put before me. I have specific needs and desires. My palate is sensitive and peculiar. Even I don’t understand it, but I do know the correct nourishment for this skin hunger. I don’t plan to deviate from my diet again.

I’ve used this quote before and I make no apologies for using it again:

“Every relationship is reciprocal ... when you touch something it touches you."

Fringe, season 3, episode 11.

Worth living for

It is an uncomfortable truth that some people look at their lives and think they have nothing worth living for. 

There is an awful amount of pain and totally unnecessary suffering in this world and at moments it can seem like it is way too much to bear.

I speak from a place of personal knowledge.

Although we know that death comes to all of us – and way too soon, it always seems - some people make a choice to end their own lives because they cannot find anything worth living for. This always makes me terribly sad. Because I am so familiar with the intense sense of desperation and feeling lost.

There is this particular spot in the Cotswolds that I will never forget because it nearly became the place I took my last breath.

Why am I still here? Because it wasn’t my time. Because I wasn’t sure my plan would work and that I may suffer. Because I was more afraid of death than I was of life.

Because I somehow grasped a strand of light and knew that there could be something worth living for. I didn’t dare to dream what it could be. I just felt it was really there.

Since that day I have had many high days and several low days. I have grown and discovered areas of resolve and skills I didn’t believe could exist in me. I have experienced such love that I shudder to think I could have missed this depth of joy.

The tears that made me see the light of my own life were heavy but I am glad they were shed because I know now, today, that  ... I am worth living for.

Coincidence or ... ?

There are times that certain things happen and it seems more than a coincidence. This was brought home to me last week when I was sitting with a friend. We were recalling various incidents that had occurred in our lives recently when she said, with a smile, “You know what? I’ve learnt to see them as God-incidences rather than coincidences.”

I like that.

Why I love atheists

I’ve been thinking about atheism for some time now.

This morning I had a walk, and a talk, with my man with a dog. I see Phil quite frequently on my morning jaunts and sometimes we get to stop and have a chat about ... well, this and that.

As we conversed this cold morning we happened upon the subject of God and belief in Him. Phil asserted that he was an atheist, although he didn’t condemn those who do believe in God. How different is that from the religious groups that you hear about?

I responded in the way some people do when they are confronted about their relationships with Black people, or gay people, or differently-abled  people.

I said, I believe I have more atheist friends than Christian friends. And that in itself is a major tell about me and what I hold dear. Then I went on to explain why. The frost of the morning was beginning to lift, but it was still bitter, so we shifted from foot to foot as we stood there talking.

I reasoned that most organised religions hold that if you don’t hold the same beliefs then you are heretics, evil, damned and condemned. That’s one reason why I love atheists. They also take full responsibility for their actions and do not blame them on God or Satan. That’s a good idea, don’t you think so?

They are amongst the most rational and reasonable people I’ve ever met and those are always a wonderful attributes to have around you. On the whole, most atheists I have met are very deep critical thinkers – and what’s not to like about that?  My friends, the atheists, also have a healthy perception of sexuality and are the least judgemental and repressive people that I know. Most of their beliefs (except the one about God) seem to coincide with mine. We are more alike than different.

So, there you have it. This particular Christian loves atheists. Do you?

I’ve just made a call to one of my atheist friends. I told her how much I’ve always loved her, since the very first day we met and had a heated discussion about Christianity and belief in God. It’s people like her that remind me what I really love people (many of who are atheists).