transformation

Speaking my Truth & getting to the Root

I decided to move over to Substack, as it’s a platform where subscribers may pay for content, which feels very hopeful. Back in 2011 I began blogging on WordPress, and I will also continue here as it’s where my websites are. Sometimes however, if I write something more in depth, it may only appear on Substack. It may take a while to find my subscribers there, let’s see. This is the first post which appears on both platforms, while I get used to the new system. I get the impression one benefits from putting time in to following others there, like any platform. If that doesn’t suit me so well, I will be all the more glad to have this site.

One of my paintings, in water colour, charcoal, pastel and menstrual blood. Abstract depicting layers of form, like a cross-section of another planet’s substance and atmosphere.

At this current time, I am about to have some root canal surgery on one of my teeth for the first time in my life, as well as some more ordinary dental procedure. Having learnt about the (vedic) chakra energy system in our bodies, I am aware that this work in my mouth relates to my 5th chakra. That is an energetic vortex in my throat, not visible physically (to most people), yet sensed subtly by sensitive people. It is a different layer to our being, superimposed on the physical form and interacting with it, part of it. Not something I was brought up to know about, but I can now feel and work with my chakras. They are part of our health, and in other cultures around the world as well as increasingly normalised locally, people use them consciously as part of healing their bodies (and minds, spirits) when unwell. Western medicine rarely acknowledges them, though I have heard of energy healing happening in some hospitals, and a machine which balances chakras being used in Hong Kong. More usually crystals, tuning forks or simply meditation may be used. Chakras are the gateways where subtle energy moves in and out of our physical form. They also correspond to different layers of energy surrounding us making up our auras.

Energy healing aside, I require some extensive dental treatment, and no amount of wishful thinking seems to be able to avoid it (I did hold off for about a year as I couldn’t feel yet what the dentist warned me of). Teeth being bone, they are also connected with the Root chakra, which is located at the base of one’s spine. Themes of the Root include feeling safe, and our relationship with our family of origin.

The 5th chakra is about speaking one’s truth, and finding one’s voice. It’s a very powerful vortex, since speaking our thoughts makes them more real, allows them to connect more tangibly with others; enables us to be heard. It is a significant part of how we manifest our reality, energetically speaking. Obviously speaking truth doesn’t necessarily occur when we talk, but that is the highest expression of the energy. If I am to heal my infected tooth on all levels, then I am also paying attention to how I communicate; how I get on with my family, as well as being open to receiving the surgery.

In recent posts I have mentioned money; potentially needing it; my relationship with it; how I feel about it. Well, when I first visited this new dentist I picked up on a magnetic vibration she carried. The prices she charges for her specialist work put her on a different level to my usual dentist, who often treats NHS patients, and doesn’t have such particular equipment. She exuded a higher level of confidence too, although I would say my normal dentist is incredibly proficient and I have a very high regard for her. I think it was something to do with the specialised service she provides, and where she is situated attracting wealthier clients. It is work which requires tremendous precision, and while she probably doesn’t frame the way she deals with clients in new age energy terms, she must become very talented at reading people so that she knows how to communicate with them according to their needs. My sense was that she is very good at this, at least from my own experience with her. She also has an arrangement with my dentist to receive referrals like me, so not all the patients entering her surgery are quite so full of money.

The way she connected with me made me feel like I mattered, and I felt quickly that I trusted her, which is quite special for an expensive dentist to do. Although the bill was going to be higher than most things I pay for, I felt good about her personally and spending that money on her service. She inspired me; she made me want to be more like her; and that’s worth paying for! It’s not the first time I have noticed the power of larger sums of money to make me think and behave differently. The way they affect you – whether you earn them or pay them. It’s both the money, and her brilliance at her job, and the two are of course linked. They make a form of success! Her energy sings of how she values herself highly, and that is so attractive.

Following on from my last post about communist/anti-apartheid ancestors, and I can’t help but notice a link with an anti-capitalist sensibility running strong in my lineage, and a lack of resources. That isn’t manifest in my whole family at all, but as I said, I do particularly – more than most – relate to those ancestors. Perhaps their beliefs need to be addressed in me. Like unpicking the layers of their beliefs, because some of them were very positive, ahead of their time, and also included being amazing at what they did. Yet a strand that thought making money is selfish, or we should always think of the collective before our own needs, does benefit from being challenged when it becomes detrimental. I could be exhibiting part of a lower expression of their energy, when really I want to aim for the highest. I may have inculcated a worship of supporting (and even identifying as) the vulnerable; not exalting the successful so much, and I think that’s actually very prevalent in parts of our society and you don’t need my ancestors to get caught in it.

Transforming my energy around wealth would make me very happy. For sure I am moving in the right direction with it, and my next step will be to learn how to generate more of it myself. To become more self-sufficient or abundantly provided for. Wealth and resources come in different forms, not just sums of money, and in some regards I feel very abundant already in highly positive rewarding ways which I am really grateful for. Be it in friendships, my love of my own company, my quality of life, how often happy and positive I feel, enjoying my work, my love of nature and cold water swimming, and being in my body as well as meditating.

Some of these things people would spend enormous amounts of money trying to achieve, and I just have them naturally. To be fair I have worked hard at creating them as they presently are in my life; it wasn’t always thus. I would also love to be able to pay for my life without being supported by the state or anyone else. I believe it is more than possible, it’s just been taking me a while to turn that aspect around. I don’t think it’s wrong to be supported by others, and I know I give back in many ways. It would however feel empowering to know I had more choice say, if I could buy my own home. Yet I am aware too, some of that impulse is illusory. The home I have now suits me very well indeed and in fact owning it or not means very little to me. As I have also mentioned, I am not that drawn to materialism; regardless of ancestors, I think it’s part of my nature. That inner aspect of me may well be delightfully comfortable as I am.

When it comes to manifesting a new reality, there is a balance between imagining the feeling of having what we desire, and being happy where we already are. If we express desperation, or dissatisfaction, we will surely repel what we crave, and only invite more of what we don’t want. This is the law of energy. Tending to our evolution with mindful purpose can take practice. Even if I am not that motivated by money itself, and basically have everything I need; what does fire me up is evolving my talents and using my gifts and abilities to their highest purpose. In my pursuit of that end – of becoming the highest expression of myself in this lifetime – I may well attract more income and the resources to achieve it. It is an evolutionary momentum which universal energies will support.

My ancestors pertain to my family of origin, so they are part of this mouth healing exercise as well as the living. An infection found its way into my tooth and over time ate away at the healthy pulp inside the root. After it did this, it wanted to infect the rest of my body, but my body is strong and clever and put a stop to this by creating a bubble to contain the unhealthy fluid spilling out of the root. A small swelling appeared on my gum which houses the bubble. This is what the dentist needs to treat, to try to save the dead tooth from needing to be extracted. There are healthy teeth in my mouth, one dead one and another needs repairing. Like family members perhaps! Some are easier to access and communicate with. The infection would represent whatever lower vibrational tendencies present in family patterning. Writing the blog to express myself is tied up in the equation. At some point I would like to do some singing again, as that definitely is 5th chakra energy and brings me great joy. Preparing a performance, as I always seem to be these days, is a way of working with that energy too.

Stormy Nights of Transformation

In 1987 I was 10. About this time of year there was a very memorable storm, you may recall, not dissimilar to the one on outside tonight (in London, UK). Trees collapsed, cars were smashed, gardens were destroyed, and I felt a fascination with this touch of wildness in our city and indeed beyond.

I wrote a story inspired by that night, for creative writing was my favourite outlet for self expression. In the fiction I was preparing for a Halloween fancy dress competition, which seemed fairly significant at the time, not least because my arch nemesis would be competing with me, and to me at any rate it might as well just have been me and her in the contest. I knew she was hotly tipped as the favourite; being richer and possessing finer garments standing her in perhaps better stead. I was unperturbed, and created for myself a unique costume fashioned from bin-liners, and rolled a black cardboard cone hat, adding some details by sticking on old scraps of material. Nothing fancy but the best I could muster. I reckoned further points may be scored for originality and style, the way an outfit was worn as much as the clothes themselves.

I laid my costume out before I went to bed, the night before the big day. That was the night of the manic storm, and nothing was the same after. In the morning I discovered that our back garden had been blown several blocks away and a tree fallen on Dad’s car. What more despite being apparently safe inside, my carefully crafted costume had been shredded, crumpled and broken beyond repair. I was distraught and could not conceive how this might have happened. The rest of my room was ok; it was most alarming. I thought I could no longer enter the competition and felt utterly disappointed, with a sense of void as to how this came about. Sighing and tearful I left the room to tell my Mum who was busy getting my brother ready for the day and making breakfast. There was no hope for this day I had so looked forward to.

But on returning to the bedroom I saw an unfamiliar object in my midst, positioned where I might have missed it before, high up on the cupboard. A shiney white cardboard box sat quietly and expectantly, with considerable promise. Tentatively I approached, reached for it and took it in my hands, examined it and removed the lid. What was this! A brand new beautiful black velvet and lace ensemble, complete with sparkly hat and shiney pointy shoes! I was flabbergasted, gobsmacked and temporarily frozen in disbelief. Everything was going to be all right after all. But how? Never mind that, the important thing was, did it fit? What do you think? It was the best fit since my Grandmother had stopped making handmade clothes for us because she was tracking down her first husband on the other side of the world. From the starry hat, lacey gloves, velvet frock and cape to the snug ankle boots, I was perfectly decked out. There was even a wand, but I was not sure about that and thought it might get in the way; I was a witch not a fairy, so I tucked it into my left boot. Over the moon, I set to shadowing my eyes and heightening my lips. My parents were contending with immense loss – you could just about spy the remnants of the shed and eucalyptus tree a few gardens away. The insurance line was jammed, in fact I don’t think the phone worked at all. I easily persuaded them I’d be fine on the bus.

I was still nervous even though I was better dressed in the new cloak than possibly I ever had been. I think the unexplained element of arriving in this attire put me a little on edge – not only was I not used to it, but also, part of me questionned my right to be in it. What if it was a mistake, or worse a trick? But who could hatch such a plot? I was flummoxed. Broken into by my arch-rival Gwendoline’s steely intent to trip me up and foil my desire (since our last run-in at the fairground when from high up on the wheel I poured some noxious concoction on her head)? We had been very good friends once, but she resisted strongly when I suggested we open up our friendship to others in the neighbourhood. While she might have motivation the practicalities did not support this. She could not have the keys to my home, and all the windows were tightly closed in this time of storm. The beautiful outfit could be a sign of her original devotion to me, but there would have to be a catch… Maybe more weirdly, I had been visited by fairies in the night, performing magic? Either way I barely dared entertain these thoughts further which had been lurking in my adrenaline fuelled glances on the top deck of the 43 bus. I arrived at the town hall, sounding my heels on the steps and escorted myself into the tall brick building to register my participation. What would the others be wearing? What would Gwendoline be conjuring? Could it be as incredible as my dress? As a final touch, on the way out of my house I had grabbed a broom which was scattered in what was left of the front garden to complete the look. I walked into the hall and found a place to watch others from, leaning on the broomstick nonchalantly.

The speeches and parades went by in a bit of a blur as I found it tricky to focus on the formalities. I could make out Gwendoline on the other side of the room, though really she ceased to be as important now I had arrived. It seemed that everything was out of my hands now anyway; the unusual events of the night and morning had taken care of that, and this awareness started to settle. My Mum and brother arrived shortly before the adjudication was made, and I was grateful to not be alone. This place was a little way from home so I didn’t know many others there particularly well. I just knew that Gwen would take part as we had talked about it and planned it before the split transpired. I think when the mayor or whoever he was announced my winning, I was no more stunned than I had already become accustomed to. I glowed nonetheless, overwhelmed with pride and joy to have succeeded in my special quest. Why did I want to be the best? Probably because I was tired of Gwendoline behaving like she was superior all the time. I wanted to shut her up. And winning is fun. I’m not sure if there was money, a prize or a crown, but not long after being acknowledged as the winner, I got on my broomstick, quite conscious that miracles or magic were entirely possible, and flew off before everybody’s incredulous eyes, and out through a high window!

A few months later in early February I sat an entrance exam to a girls grammar school. For the English section I basically rewrote this story as one of the titles was ‘The Stormy Night’, and that was what got me into the school I spent the next five years in as my maths was fairly basic.

It gives me great pleasure to remember the story (and the story of the story), unfortunately I do not have the original with me, though it’s possible that it is housed in my parents’ attic.

Apart from this reminisence I wanted to tell you that Spirited Bodies is going to have a break soon. We will cease events and workshops for some months as the routine has taken hold and its grip is lethal. We were meant to be less predictable, for therein lies the most potent magic. What ought to be extraordinarily remarkable occasions, were in danger of being overlooked, become commonplace in my spectrum. I don’t mean the extravaganza just gone, but the monthly sessions where in fact more new people come to celebrate some milestone, than at the recent biggie. Each of those moments deserves more attention, and the time to regard each potential participant; who will benefit most, and will the group bring out the best in each other?

Managing men has been an ongoing matter. So many want to take part, but who has the most honourable intentions? You cannot tell from a simple questionnaire, or even necessarily meeting. But the most nervous women involved and sometimes our team who are less immersed than I am pick up on energies once the nude proceedings are in action. Artists too remark of male models not in it for a purpose befitting us. Meanwhile I am so preoccupied with replicating ‘The Raft of the Medusa’, and everybody’s comfort that much that is important eludes me. And while I do all the admin and run the show, I cannot be all things to all people.

So clearly we need time to change. We have a good strong team, and we will work more as such in the coming months, refashioning the Spirited Bodies experience. Newer team members especially Thelma felt strongly that we must return to our core, what the original mission was. This was about the models’ transformation, and it was about women modelling for the first time to experience a remarkable transition towards confidence. We reconnected with the founder, Morimda to hear in her words what inspired her, and as well she took the time to join in a little.

Meanwhile I want some time away from the overwhelming admin; I want to travel a bit and get back to writing and performance. I have felt like I was doing the project more for others and no longer so much for myself as it used to be. I need to give back to me. But I know Spirited Bodies will keep calling me back too, and at the right time, something magical will emerge again. Happy Halloween fellow spirits!

If you would like to join in an all female event coming up very soon before we take our break, click here for more details on how to get involved and do not hesitate to get in touch. Making the decision to refocus our mission has freed me up to feel appropriately enthused about our final events! There are 2 more sessions at Holborn (see Workshops & Events) as well as the aforementioned new opportunity for women. In addition a small exhibition of some of the Spirited Bodies art work will be on display in the Sh! shop in Hoxton throughout November. Please note this shop is a women’s shop and men may only go in accompanied by a woman, except on Tuesday evenings between 6 and 8pm which are ‘Gents Tuesdays’. As we come to the end of this season we celebrate Spirited Bodies’ 3rd anniversary.

IMAG1324Magic shoes from a recent costumed session Thelma & I did in Tadworth!

Thelma & I being ladies who lunch

Thelma & I being ladies who lunch

Project Unbreakable, & Walking the Walk

Today I visited Sylvie who modelled at our recent event. She has described how participating has lined up with her own journey of transformation (http://spiritedbodies.com/2012/02/12/little-pieces-of-me-by-sylvie-rouhani/) with regard to healing from the trauma of childhood sexual abuse. She recently started her own blog for her art and poetry, and felt inspired when through the world of blogging she came across ‘Project Unbreakable’. Started by Grace Brown in the US, it is for survivors of sexual abuse to come out perhaps, by means of being photographed with a sign stating a quote of their abuser.

Sylvie’s powerful idea is to take part in the next Spirited Bodies – on 21st March at Telegraph Hill Festival – and make such a sign for herself for the occasion. When nude she will pose with the sign at least for a photograph to send to Grace to join the thousands that Grace receives. We don’t know if anyone has done this nude before, but it seems to make a lot of sense, since such difficult experiences can affect the way we feel about our bodies in a huge way. It may be quite subtle, yet highly destructive, making someone ashamed of themselves somehow. To confront this issue any which way how is surely empowering for any soul. In some pictures the person is not identifiable, the face not visible, but it is the act which demonstrates strength, and solidarity since many others are participating.

I am getting a sense that our upcoming event is about healing the heart. I felt upset when following the joy of the last event, an issue about photographs possibly spoilt some people’s experience. I never want that to happen again; it goes against the whole ethos of Spirited Bodies. In future if there is photography I will communicate much more clearly with every model about that in advance, and take pains to stage any photos taken so that no one is upset.

There was a flip-side to the mishap, in that some models who had not been so keen on being seen in a photo, once they saw the results, did change their minds remarkably, especially in the light of the unexpected levels of joy they experienced when participating. The photograph was a happy memory. But for any who trusted us less afterwards, I am sorry. Overall it was a valuable lesson.

One of Alex B's images from 'The Drawing Theatre', Spirited Bodies

Living and learning must be key. And fate gave me a suitable nod shortly after the photograph debacle. Having been body painted by my friend Caroline Young for the Paradise Jam in Broxbourne on 16th February, with one particular glitter tattoo on my back, I then had occasion to model nude on a catwalk in London Fashion Week for a hat designer on the 21st. The tattoo still intact, press photographers snapped my bottom avidly which was highlighted by the glitter. It, minus the hat, made it to page 3 of the Metro the next day much to my and Caroline’s delight!

Robyn Coles, the designer, fared better with her other models for her campaign, who served her purpose better from the front. A pregnant glamour model glowed sensationally, and Alex B strutted regally, amongst our number.

Backstage at the show I did not feel a big sense of belonging. I was not uncomfortable about my body, in fact the opposite. We had been told ‘basic make-up’, and I wore none. I think it is that I struggle to get excited about fashion and that showed. I did enjoy the catwalking however, which was to the tune of Lana Del Rey‘s ‘Born to Die’. Reckon body painting is more my thing!

I enjoyed posing with Caroline Young's body paint - photo by Alex Eve

Back in Drama School, at Rose Bruford 8 years ago I made a piece of theatre about facing demons of the past. I asked an old friend to take part as his story was powerful and had moved me. He portrayed in some theatrical form his tale of childhood sexual abuse. He said it was cathartic to stand up and perform this painful part of his past. To come out and say it, and actually be real on stage, in front of strangers. The audience were young and they laughed at first, but in the end we felt victorious for doing the performance project our way. In a way that felt most meaningful.

He said recently that he has gotten much reward over the years from connecting with other survivors who have had similar experiences. Once they have reached a certain stage in processing the damage, there is something about them which resonates clearly as they lack a more usual layer of bullshit apparent in so many people. They appreciate the value of things, life, better perhaps. And processing one’s struggle with others is part of what stops the damage from being heavily internalised. The easiest way, he points out, for the abuse cycle to continue and be passed on by one who has been abused becoming an abuser him/herself, is to not truly connect with others about the matter.

What I find becoming apparent is, 20 odd years ago there seemed to be a minority of victims, but now a growing awareness suggests  more likely a majority. So by joining up with Project Unbreakable for example, there is a strength in numbers. A knowledge of being far from alone. A power to let potential and actual aggressors know that they may be outflanked.

The next Spirited Bodies will welcome survivors and those who want to support them. Life modelling in a group can be healing in various capacities, and I will focus on this aspect of the event to drive it forwards.

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The Art of Magic

Chaosphere; symbol of chaos magic

The first step to a magical state of mind, according to a Chaos magician’s handbook, is to still the body. It suggests finding a comfortable position and at first attempting motionlessness for 5 minutes, which is not easy when executed completely. One is then to build up gradually to half hour periods of stillness, practising daily. Should any unexpected occasions for stillness arise in one’s day to day life, then it is advisable to take advantage, if you want to maximise your potential as a chaos magician.

The joker in me thinks chaos magic people could do a recruitment drive among life models; most of us have definitely mastered step 1, and are probably well into the next levels too, although not being conscious of this might make a difference.

Breathing has to slow right down and get really deep. Tick.

Not-thinking: this is what I understand meditation to be; regarding one’s tempest of a mind and hauling it in, not wandering off with the pull of any divergent tangent. When successful this leads to trance, and you know you’ve risen above it all when you feel the glow in your third eye and in the crown of your head. It’s a warm tingle, very pleasant, and the lightness and euphoria I get enable me to transcend discomfort of the pose, because unlike chaos magicians, I’ve cut off my circulation, got a crick in my neck and all my weight is on my right heal. Do I get extra points? No, I’m way behind on the theory!

Also when in a trance, thoughts do still come up, but they all seem to make me laugh, except usually it just induces a smile. Occasionally I do crack up in hysterics much to the artists’ bewilderment; generally I can’t explain the joke or it’s just too dirty… I mean I like my job, and just them knowing that what my comical mind has yielded is off the menu says enough.

There is another state of hyper sensation I get; stronger emotions but with an extra awareness of them, like I’m watching them. So I might get on a sad one, may even draw a tear, but it’s like it’s from so deep inside, there’s an awesome release, so that the sadness is accompanied by elation.

That brings me to another of the chaos magic themes: emotions and their opposites. Apparently the root of every emotion is in its opposite, and a wheel is drawn: sex and death, love and hate, fear and desire (to begin with, it gets more complex too.)

Object concentration, as part of achieving a magical state of mind (from which who knows what is possible) means the fixed gaze during motionlessness. In my work this is most common and necessary whilst modelling for portrait. A fixed point in one’s vision must be picked, and held for hours, days, weeks on end. It is hard to stop the mind from distorting what one sees, but after a while, I have found, of looking thus in the same direction, everything looks different anyway, like you are seeing all that you could have missed with a more casual look. I practise this too when life modelling as it is part of what brings about the high I enjoy. All my worries vanish – what to do with that guy who pretends he doesn’t want to date me but when we meet that’s what it feels like… will other people apart from my boyfriend like my new script, do my friends still like me after I didn’t turn up to… is my brother mad at me!

During half term I didn’t have a lot of work and Aaron asked if my powers would diminish with hardly anyone worshipping me! I have been thinking this is a great way to think of my job, and love that Aaron sees it this way. Instead of thinking, ‘Oh no I’ve got to get up for work’, I’m like ‘Gonna go to the temple to be worshipped’!