Being oneself, in a world of perceived expectation of performance, takes guts and insouciance.

Emotions, erections, thoughts, and sensations come and go. We don’t need to take any of them too seriously, there’ll be more thoughts, sensations, erections and emotions tomorrow and the day after. And the day and week after that. Ad infinitum. Still, wouldn’t it be great to have the space to express them rather than to be asked to get over ourselves?

A friend objectified me by putting me on a leash and walking me on all fours around the room. Only on the soft mats. Also using me as a footstool which I worried was a little boring for them, though I found the whole beginners scene surprisingly peaceful. None of the objectifying pushed any of my my f*ck you daddio buttons. Though I suspect in keeping to the limits of our brief set up conversation, that was intentional and useful, in that it allowed me to notice and feel. It helped me understand a bit more about not having to care - that it was a relief.

“We’re glad we’re staying together.” I’ve asked my friends to listen to my breasts and see if they can hear any messages. This was the first.

Bitterness doesn’t suit you. Try success instead. Similarly, over the arc of a lifetime, frustration is better changed for satisfaction. 

I had a limerent crush on a performance artist I met at an online party during the Covid times. We sold tickets to our first meeting in a London park, then later went to a kinky club where I felt out of my depth with a stranger. Committing to staying a few days at his house was a mistake; the crush wasn’t mutual. I left early. And ended up kissing a girlfriend on her more welcoming sofa instead. Limerent crushes are awful when unrequited. I felt needy, and sick with unusual feelings of rejection. Which was disappointing after the initial mutual admiration and seeming connection.

There’s something about being a Sexological Bodyworker that fills me with great pride in the work and our students. We have to go through a thorough and weird training. Sure, we’re one of the professions that can touch all of the body, on both a physical and emotional level. Where we’re going, there are no roads. It’s the pioneering work around topics that aren’t often discussed with such compassion, neutrality, and respect that I remain in awe of.

I become friends with the interesting people I meet. No wonder I had challenges with building a consistent client base for the brief time I was in private practice. The interesting clients became my friends and stopped paying me. I stopped wanting to work with the others. I’m considering setting up a practice again if I stay in the UK. However, I may need to reconsider my ethics and agreements. 

“Do, delegate or delete”, was my hairdresser's wise advice about to-do lists.  I’ve done a lot more since I realised it’s all about the deciding.

Limitations are a liberation. Ironic when I’ve spent so much time expanding choice and freedom. Too many options can be paralysing and lead to rumination and endless weighing up of equally good alternatives. Although I can’t drive for the next few months, there’s a new freedom in walking locally or being offered a lift. And let’s not get into the turn on of a senior rail card.

Gosh, women spend a lot of time analysing men. I know because I’ve done it. And spent hours with friends in cafes as they go over what is wrong versus what is compelling. Or what they’d love. If only I’d spent as much time on creating something of value. Yet the bonds formed over those cups of coffee are lasting.

“Don’t trash your experience with your mind.”  Is another of my wise teacher's sayings that has stuck with me. What she was trying to say is that don’t regret encounters after the fact and find mental ways to disown or discredit the people you chose to spend time with. Don’t waste time finding all the reasons they were a bad idea if you enjoyed them in the moment. 

I’ve no idea what ‘chillin’ feels like. How to enjoy being pointless and purposeless makes me scratch my head. Sitting amidst the roses and dead people in Manchester Southern Cemetery Crematorium in the sunshine is a soulful experience. Once those fathers or mothers, former husbands, dead wives or cot death babies had lives and breaths, they loved and were loved. Or maybe they were lonely too. If I want an epitaph, “She lived life well”, maybe cancer is allowing a welcome break from the push for purpose.

A friend asked me, “What are you not feeling?” I love good questions like that. I’m not feeling anger or fear. What I’m not feeling is care. That’s nothing new. How do you do it? Tips welcome.

Soul gazing teaches you presence. Try sitting opposite someone for an hour, only looking into their eyes. First it was my yoga teacher, then Marina Abramovic, who asked me to look someone in the eye and hold their gaze for a few minutes. Only the second time was art. It was surprising how many people that evening at The Whitworth art gallery could not hold that short gaze.

You’re always more powerful than you think.

My bad ex was high up in the military. He didn’t kill anyone but did the finances. I remember once going round to his neighbours for Christmas drinks. Over a glass of wine I heard that the man operated a drone, while his wife waxed lyrical about the drone of Lancaster bombers. It took me too long to connect the killer next door to the dropping of bombs on wedding parties in the Middle East. I wonder if the neighbours in the pretty cottage with honeysuckle, memorabilia, and knickknacks ever did, or do, make that connection? Or is it all just combat and collateral damage in the eyes of men made for war?

I’m not a merger. I can’t even imagine what the allowance of that might feel like.

I run a small group for Enneagram 7’s. We’re not great feelers; we’re generally anxious, distracted and avoid suffering at most costs. But we are pragmatic, solid and multi-capable. I love that group as I feel understood. One of them said they have sometimes felt judged as ‘less than’ for not being expressively emotional and for looking like we don’t feel things deeply. Maybe we have a time lag on emotion, and what we feel we’re allowed to feel. Blame our mothers. What I love each day is being reminded by the Enneathought of the Day of how to get past what we often can’t see. And to do that in the company of sympathetic others. Transformation is a slow process.

“There are no floorboards.” Another of my Tantra teacher’s wise sayings. Seeking security and permanence is pointless. Eventually it all gets taken away or disappears. If there are no floorboards I wonder what replaces them? Nothing I guess.