Because I want to be a person who you look at and decide I’m too decent for you to be so cruel to. That my passion for the little things, gentle beings, the abundant love in the universe will shine so bright that your pain, cruelty and manipulation don’t have power in my space. Maybe you have to fight fire with fire… Because love, my love, isn’t enough to quench your desire for destruction. This is where my pain lives – because I don’t just assume that you are mean and cruel and I’m a victim in the wake of your destruction, no. I sit there and think that I didn’t permeate enough kindness, love and grace through the situation; that I didn’t show you enough love to change your mind, change your heart.
I grew up in a home of rebel-academics, deep thinkers and psychologists. It isn’t uncommon for dinner table talk to linger on disassociative identity disorder, legalisation of marijuana and its effect on the informal economy, or my personal favourite; sex and sexuality. Zero “how was your day” or “how’s about them interest rates” conversation fodder for us. My 18th birthday card, given to me by my grandpa, included a hand-written summary of Gestalt psychology just below the “Happy birthday precious granddaughter” message the card-maker assumed would suffice. Continue reading
I really don’t like to drive. And if I’m honest, I don’t think people like me should be allowed to. But living in a large spread-out city with no decent public transport means I have to get over myself if I ever hope to leave my suburb. It’s not the actual driving that starts me up. I’ve had years of practice and I drive an automatic – a circus monkey could drive my car. It’s getting lost that gets me.
Some languages have built-in navigational constructs that train the brain into crafting a sense of direction. Their languages develop around geographic directions: east, west, north, and south. So, when they’re describing where something is they might say “it’s southeast of you”, rather than “it’s behind you on the left”. Continue reading