RIP: the Good Girl…

best you break it... via www.rachelsimmons.com

One disastrous liaison too many, I realize I may have a bit of an issue with boundaries. Yeah, who’d have guessed? (Say anything - I kill you). Comes standard: lock, stock and two smoking ovaries with playing the proverbial good girl as I’ve done most of my life. Most, please note, I’ve deviated quite monstrously a few times. Being a Good Girl (or male equivalent: The Golden Boy) is akin to a slow death by strangulation: the loaded game, impossible to win. A dramatic description, sure. But when you expend vast amounts of energy in the dilly pursuit of pleasing other people, endeavouring to do the ‘right thing’ (whatever the f*ck that might be) and generally sacrificing your happiness for the sake of someone else, you’ll understand what I mean.

Whilst trolling for images for this post (you’d be equally amazed and horrified by what turns up when you search ‘good girl’), I found TEDxWoma(e)n Rachel SimmonsThe Curse of The Good Girl. Extracts from the press release reveals a bleak bulls eye:

Unerringly polite, nice, modest, and selfless, the Good Girl paradigm is so narrowly defined it’s unachievable. With self-esteem tied to perfection, girls are unable to know, express and manage a complete range of feelings. The need to be “perfect” leaves girls uncomfortable with feedback and failure, making it difficult to recover from even minor setbacks; a conflict with a peer or a mistake in the classroom is often enough to unleash paralyzing self-criticism. Deprived of the permission to articulate their needs, strengths, and goals, girls are confined by a psychological glass ceiling that can extend into adulthood, stunting the growth of vital skills and habits essential to personal and professional success.

silent, deep waters (image by Annie Stegg via www.deviantart.com)

Sound familiar? Kinda reminds me of Ophelia. And we know how things ended for her: cold, lonely and heartbroken at the bottom of a river.

Elefetheria Kakambouras, personal journey facilitator with honours in clinical psychology and a passion for empowering others, explains:

“The Good Girl archetype is shrouded by limitations – she is usually raised with a whole set of shoulds which crystalize, becoming part of her internal belief and guidance system.

The should list usually looks something like this:

  • You should never get angry – good girls do not show their anger
  • You should behave in an appropriate manner – otherwise people will not like you
  • You should dress in a certain way, be married with children by a certain age – otherwise you will not be accepted
  • You should have a man in your life – otherwise you will not feel secure.

This frame of reference sets you up to think, behave and say things to get external approval. When you depend on external sources for your sense of value, worth or happiness, you set yourself up to for continual disappointment – it’s an unhealthy basis for a relationship that fosters co-dependent behaviour. In truth, your value can only ever come from within – and this flows outwards to attract experiences which reflect how you value yourself. But this is the opposite of what we’ve been taught and here we get stuck. Lines from romantic movies (think Jerry Maguire‘s famous: “You complete me”) entrench this illusion and prevent us from discovering the true source of happiness and self-worth.

At some point the Good Girl realises the internal “should list” she’ carrying around is someone else’s idea of what a “good” person aught to think, say and do – which have nothing to do with her own beliefs and values. This split leads to a lifetime of pretending and misalignment with the authentic self.  The process of busting the “should” myth – at 20, 30, 40 or 60 is a profoundly powerful one and an honour to witness and facilitate. Finally letting go of these belief structures which cruelly edit the self, allows You to be You. And when you are authentically you, you start heeding your inner voice, instead of those misleading, illusionary shoulds. This is when you awaken to your inner goddess and unfold your truth: that you’re an intelligent, dynamic, powerful, sexy, courageous, magnificent women.”

Viva to that. I’m moeg of being seen as sweet, approved of because I’m nice and thoughtful and considerate. I’ve gotten  good at putting other people’s needs above mine: I’ve played the Good Daughter, Good Sister (though Cameron would probably disagree), Good Girlfriend, Good Employee, Good Employer, Good Friend, Good Host, Good Patient, Good Student, Good Golly Miss Molly, if there’s a role to be ‘good’ in, I’ve auditioned for it. Hell, I’ve even tried the Good Mistress once (but got fed up pretty fast with that lark – seems I prefer singular relationships, dysfunctional and otherwise). The approval payoff only ever gets you so far – predictably I’d literally get sick and bloody tired of trying so hard to please everyone else – it’s a waste, a half life. And the general approval high only gets you so far.

In the words of my adolescent icon, Jim Morrison:

“The most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are. You trade in your reality for a role. You trade in your sense for an act. You give up your ability to feel, and in exchange, put on a mask. There can’t be any large-scale revolution until there’s a personal revolution, on an individual level. It’s got to happen inside first.”

the ballgown made me do it...

Indeed. I’ve felt most alive when I’ve done wild, whimsical things a good girl probably shouldn’t do: followed my heart to the ends of the earth; made rhyming couplets at a wake in the rain; danced down the aisles at a grocery store; jumped a fountain at a pretentious party (in a ballgown); climbed a tree during a prestigious awards ceremony (same ballgown). Years later, these are magical highlights in my memory, powerfully joyous moments when I felt my lifeblood burn with adventure. I’m tired of shackles, I’m sick of being safely socialized. I’m learning to say “no” to other people in order to say a greater, more authentic YES! when I’m ready. I’m learning boundaries. So what of the Good Girl? Time to bid her farewell as I don a ballgown and lay her to rest…

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two cures…

When the gypsy parade started last year, it came at an inopportune time and I ended up staying with a kindly stranger, a friend of a friend who understood what it feels like to be a tumbleweed of homelessness in a reckless wind. Tag was a true blessing and what could’ve been an awkward few days turned into fabulously unexpected good fun.

Anyway, I told you that so I could share this: offering me comfort and a cure for my woes, Tag introduced me to the cleverly cynical contemporary poet (Dorothy Parker style), Wendy Cope. Just so happens we share a birthday – along with Ernest (but I digress). In the wake of valentines and as its official bah-humbug grinch for sickly sweet commercial capitalism, bleeding hearts and hyperinflationary roses, here’s a helpful antidote to anyone getting over a wretched relationship:

no strings attached...

Thanks Mr Hoya – be seeing you (again) soon…

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sun, moon, stars, rain…

If you are going to buy one book this year, let it be this. Why? Because it was written with YOU in mind. 

I stumbled across i wrote this for you last year during The Big Upheaval from The Bay and it gave me solace in a time when only the sea could meet my grief and not be overwhelmed by all that water. The Coming Wave crashed against the screen like a much needed message in an ether bottle. I was moved.

I still visit the site regularly, my pilgrimage into the ether, a ritual that’s proved better for my mental wellbeing than swallowing mega-vitamins, tossing bones (it’s an Nguni thing) or trying to understand why we’re fighting to keep the press free within our democracy.

THE FURY OF WATER

You can try and hold me back. Build your damn walls, pack sandbags along the edges and yell at the clouds and the rain and the sky to stop.  

But I will not relent. I will reach you. Because I am the sea. And I will continue to love you no matter what.

*

While the website is lovely, the book is even better. For me there’s a certain old school romance in the sensual turning of a page, that new book smell, the physical act of holding the weight of a story in your hands. So if you’re looking for something poetic for someone special, or even a beautiful bedside book for yourself: this would be it. Because it’s a story, a book-long love letter of shuffled fragments, micro tales of love, loss and longing – drawing on archetypal emotions of the collective condition. If art, defined by Gregory David Roberts (author of Shantaram) is “human communication”, then surely I WROTE THIS FOR YOU is a literary art.

Better yet, it’s dedicated to:

The small; the star counters; the cloud watchers; the inspired; the birds; everyone who’s ever cried; everyone who’s ever tried; those who pull themselves up off the floor; those who can still find love in their hearts, even after everything; those who paint the world each day with the colours of their feelings; those who hope. To you…

See? I told you. Therein lies the magic (it’s power and it’s pull) – this ingenious use of one simple 2nd person pronoun: you. Allowing each message to simultaneously address the individual and the collective, blur the line between personal and universal truth and transcend the limitations of a normally closed form of intimate communication, creating a sense of communion with an infinite audience. People around the world have already been moved, inspired, comforted and beguiled. And will continue to be.

 

 

So whatever you do, please find this. Because it was meant for you…

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of the irish…

Words have long been my solace: writing keeps me sane; reading grants me comfort. The good the gods of the ether and interwebs kindly dished real pearls this week – the most profound being a Celtic poem:

Beannacht *

  by John O’Donohue

On the day when
the weight deadens
on your shoulders
and you stumble,
may the clay dance
to balance you.

And when your eyes
freeze behind
the grey window
and the ghost of loss
gets in to you,
may a flock of colours,
indigo, red, green,
and azure blue
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays
in the currach of thought
and a stain of ocean
blackens beneath you,
may there come across the waters
a path of yellow moonlight
to bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life.

* Gaelic for ‘blessing’

sacred communion (image by Cameron Gray via www.parablevisions.com)

Be blessed: today as all ways…

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doors…

new doors opening... (image via www.jblogger-animart.blogspot.com)

Life is a surprising little trip. When you least expect it, she shrugs her silken shoulders and neatly derails whatever predictable track you thought you were on. At the last minute, without warning. As is her wont.

So, what to do? Coping effectively in challenging circumstances, so you can move through them with maximum elegance and minimal drama, is strongly supported by yogic practice of surrender. Open your arms and embrace change, surf the wild waves of chaos and know deep, deep down everything is, ultimately, as it should be. Doors suddenly swing shut (whilst some you will choose to close yourself) only for new ones appear, creaking open to spill a shard of broken light across the floor. Beckoning you on, into the Unknown….

And as scary as this seems, the Unknown is but poignantly pregnant with possibility. We simply fear the proverbial devil we don’t yet know, and so fearing, opt instead for imprisonment, comfortably numb in a our well known hell. If you release the fear of what you don’t know yet, you release yourself from the cruelly ‘known’ limitations you cling to. Tis an ever changing thing – life. The sooner we accept this, the sooner we can harness change, like a mighty wind, to propel us forward. Imagine of we still feared falling off the edge of the world? Would that make the earth flat. We start with small, limited perspectives based on our finite range of vision – we need to expand our minds, creating space for bigger and better and altogether more glorious perceptions.

On that note, here’s a little message from the gods of the ether and interwebs which washed upon my shore awhile back:

*sigh* such loveliness…

Purveyors of ‘interplanetary creative expeditions,’ MOONBOT studios, created this fabulous little tale for all who live a life in silent dedication to the stories held within the paper hearts of books. William Joyce collaborated with fellow bot, Brandon Oldenburg, to conjure cutting edge/old school magic. Morris Lessmore could be described as a colourful Chaplin starring in bibliophile fantasy: Wizard of Oz meets Up – post natural disaster. Whimsical, romantically silent and upliftingly hopeful it lends power to our innate ability to ride the winds of change – and be enriched by the experience.

parenting with apples... (image from www.desinformado.com)

For techno junkies with kids – there’s even some interactive apps available for your iParenting pleasure. Click here for your daily apple. Happy reading…

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into the sunset…

falling... (image via www.thetravelpeach.com)

Yeah, I’m galloping off in search of adventure – again. I tell you, this writerly gig gets tough sometimes (between vine lands and Land Rover pedicures) but I keep walking: keyboard cocked, locked and ready for QWERTY action; camera slung over shoulder and hip flash of whiskey for emergencies (just pulling your socks – I reserve that party trick primarily for funerals). This week it’s onward ho! to Zimbabwe – passport, yellow fever certificate, mosquito repellent, sunscreen and rehydration sachets in tow (in case of quinine related hangovers – the dangers related to consuming litres of gin and tonic) *sigh* what a fabulously well prepared bush baby I’ve become!

So what else do we know about Zim? A once thriving country beset by hyperinflation and a president on the wrong side of crazy. Where extreme sports get pretty damn extreme – bungee jumping’s done sans rope, fishing nets you tigers and swimming could land you mud wresting a croc. I’ve opted (erhm ok: endocrinologically forced) to steer clear of all adrenalin depleting activities and look instead toward the slow, romantic, old school side of life. Which brings me to the bridge. A world wonder. And a steam train…

full steam ahead, folks! (image via www.steamtraincompany.com)

Now before I wax lyrical about all things locomotive, this is simply my version of the corporate out of office reminder (I’m AWOL til the end of Feb). And bit of a teaser – to whet your appetite for the upcoming post, look at where I’ll be on V-Day. Ever a romantic bush boytjie, the Kalahari Knight is whisking me off for a sunset trip aboard the Victoria Falls Steam Train Company‘s engine no.512 (maybe he’s trying to make up for the camping crash course over Christmas?). Looks like we’re in for a journey like no other

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little talks and lionhearts…

You know me and music: tis the blood that spins the decks and animating this scarred scarlet heart. A blue bird over at Twitter dropped this nugget of acoustic brilliance (thank ‘em social media gods of good music) in the form of Little Talks last week. So here’s Iceland’s latest reason to be so cool: Of Monsters and Men.

 

… you’re gone, gone, gone away I watched you disappear * all that’s left is a ghost of you * now we’re torn, torn, torn apart there’s nothing we can do * just let me go we’ll meet again soon …

 

Sublime, isn’t it? The music video (brilliant work of WeWereMonkeys) compliments this upbeat single with a mournfully monochrome mythological tale to renders it beguiling. Notice how songbird Nanna’s lone female voice provides a bright burst of vocal colour to the manly harmonies. This 6 pack indie-folk-rock band’s star is on the rise as they wend their way to tour the US of A after having won Músiktilraunir in 2010 (Iceland’s battle of the bands and not some Norsegod weapon of mass destruction as I originally thought).

your head for an animal... (image via www.themusicninja.com)

Their recently released debut album, My Head Is an Animal is an uplifting and worthy investment for your 2012 music library. Especially this month… King and Lionheart (another single) is a romantic ballad perfect to play to your beloved as you sip champagne on Valentine’s Day.

Their sound is clear and eclectic, whimsical and dreamy  – reminiscent of The xx and a hippy, happy version of Mumford and Sons. If you like Bright Eyes, Edward Sharpe, The Tallest Man on Earth or Duke and The King, I bet Of Monsters and Men will creep through your ears… and steal your heart.

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