Author: Chiromancer

Thinks she should give up self improvement in pursuit of vices.

The Lost Word

ChiromancerLeave a comment

The weight of words

Two very unexpected things happened today. Number One. I found myself at a loss for words – which, if you know me, isn’t a regular occurrence, despite the tumble weeds rolling through the blog of late. Number Two – which really should be called ‘the reason for number one’ – a letter.  Not a bill, though it demanded my attention. Not one of those ‘get-rich-quick’ scheme, though it’s given me something money can’t buy.  A letter from someone who in quiet moments of reflection still occupies a place in my heart.  And whose letters I’ve kept, along with a book or two… This latest note I’ve read and re-read this afternoon. I still don’t know what to say. It isn’t a love letter, but it was written with love. Strong feelings underpin every word.

It took courage to write – but even more to send. Which got me thinking about the weight of words. Heavy words for heavy hearts. Lost words for lost lovers. Those things that go unsaid because we carry the burden inside ourselves. Unspoken.  I know why silence is the preferred option for most of us. When we are angry or hurt, words become weapons. But they also have the power to heal. Sometimes all it takes is for one person to have the courage to speak first.

Wu Wei…

ChiromancerLeave a comment

Sometimes in life, the real art is in knowing when to act and when to be still.  Earlier this year, I suffered a health scare, and needed surgery.  It was a real eye opener. It was also time to be still…

Those of you who follow my real-world blog will know I carve a living in the corporate world. I’ve spent the last eighteen months pulling 18 hr days, while travelling extensively for a global client. I love what I do.  In my working life I am decisive and action-oriented, so you can imagine how thrilled I was at the prospect of having to take time off to lie down and recuperate, not to mention the thought that I might not be well enough to continue pursuing my business interests!

Faced with the prospect of an uncertain outcome – was it cancer or wasn’t it –  I had to put my affairs in order and get my head – and my heart – in the right place. Like I said, it was time to be still. So, I took time off work and went to hospital. Crisis is good that way – it tends to focus the mind on the important things!   Anyway, I woke from the anaesthetic like a newborn – suddenly everything seemed fresh and precious.  I certainly had a lot more clarity.   I also got the all clear, which was the best news ever!

Since then, I’ve spent the past few months thinking deeply about my life and what I want from it.  In some ways,  it feels as though I’ve undergone a sort of emotional hibernation.  Not acting, just waiting. Thinking and being still.  This  had a number of unexpected side effects… Worst of all, my blog muse just upped sticks and went on a six month bender…

Life ebbs and flows. Stillness is followed by action. So, it’s time for a change on all fronts. Even the edge of the pier.

This is a heads up that the blog is changing homes. From now on, if you’d like to follow Pier Point, you can find it here: edgeofthepier.wordpress.com

It feels good to be moving forward again.

Elemental, dear Watson…

ChiromancerLeave a comment

It’s been a surreal few weeks. Work has taken me from Stockholm, to Amsterdam and Paris…via Wales and London.  On Monday – as a deranged (and I mean batsh*t crazy!!) Parisian cabbie drove me from La Defense to Gare du Nord –  I had the luxury of sitting back and absorbing the scenery.  As regular readers will know, Paris is one of my favourite cities – not least for the food, the art, and the fine underwear available for purchase at Galleries Lafayette!

On this day however, I was marvelling at the weather. It’s February, and although days are lengthening in the Northern Hemisphere, blasts of winter ire still rain down in the coastal reaches! But in Paris, it was a balmy Spring!  As I crossed the Seine, Winter light illuminated the architraves of this elegant city…Life felt good!

This got me thinking…are human beings conditioned by climate?  I blame my hot temper on the fact that I have Irish, South African and Italian blood running through my veins.  But perhaps I am a fraud? Perhaps the climate in which I find myself determines my mood?  My true love is for Winter – log fires, red wine and convivial evenings with friends.  And yes, while I am drawn to Summer – I really do hate the heat – freckles and humidity – Eeuww!   Autumn is good because you can be melancholy with justifiable reason – and you get berries, apples and pumpkins as harvest!   But at the same time, Spring means fresh starts and renewed vigour as nature (and life) bring hope with longer days.  In my language we often describe people as ‘being in their element’ – meaning they are happy in that particular space, place and time.

Forget about personality type, culture, or class – perhaps people have a season… What’s your element?

Lessons in love…

Chiromancer2 Comments

 

My own Valentine arrived early this year. Not once but twice! On Saturday, a card from the US arrived – a dear friend and her husband, who worry about my singleton status and send me a valentine’s card every year…It’s nice to know I am loved. That’s a good thing!

And…After months of feeling rubbish, a series of MRI and CT scans, blood tests, and countless X-rays (any more and I would feel like a microwaved chicken with a bad tan)…still no news, no card in the post. No hearts or flowers…That’s probably a good thing, too!

Both events have got me thinking. If life is a gift, then love is the ribbon that ties it all together. It’s been over a year since the man I loved ripped my heart out and handed it back to me on a platter.  It’s been a year since the pain in my side has meant extended visits to the local NHS hospital. Long. Complicated. You really don’t want to know, but… ok...I’ll admit, It still hurts...

Nevertheless instead of a diatribe against the perils of love…instead of being morose and despairing on Valentine’s day…I’ve decided I’m going to focus on the gifts love has given me…

  • Gift #1. The gift of poetry. My first serious boyfriend at uni was partial to Irish poets. He gave me a ring engraved with the words from a William Butler Yeats poem.  The ring was tossed into the Thames a long time ago, but the poem lives on!
  • Gift #2. The gift of humour. My 2nd serious boyfriend was English. He endowed me with a love of British humour, and the ability to see the profound in the ridiculous. This is why I can laugh at myself!
  • Gift #3. The gift of music. Another amour taught me love to all music, to the point that I am now the arbiter of cool for my younger sisters as far as beats go!  Well, in my not so secret life I blog for a music website! Thanks…now I know there is more to music than Randy Crawford…
  • Gift #4. The gift of forgiveness. Aforesaid man… he of the heart-ripping, platter-handing mode…well, that was my greatest gift of all. He taught me to let go of things I don’t comprehend and cannot fix. He could only lie, so he taught me to speak the truth even if it meant risking the loss of what I thought I held dear.  He taught me to choose my own destiny because he could not choose for himself.   He made me laugh. He made me love.  But most of all he made me cry. He also made me see what I was not when I was with him…and that…that was enough to set me free!
Happy Valentine’s Day!

Just the facts, ma’am…

ChiromancerLeave a comment

This blog has been inspired by a C4 documentary about people who work on London Underground.  Actually…I should say this rant has been inspired by lazy journalism.  Apparently the individuals who work for the world’s oldest mass transport system do not want to be identified because they fear for their jobs…we are told that ‘actors’ are ‘speaking their real words’… What a crock!  Either they are just moaning Minnies or sniping backbiters who really should seek employment elsewhere, or they have a legitimate grievance. Either way, C4 have not realised that having Victor –  ‘I don’t believe it’  – Meldrew narrating the whole episode will only detract from their authentic purpose, not advance it.  And if you don’t live in the UK, you probably won’t get the reference, so check it out here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Victor_Meldrew

As a small child, a Calvinistic work-ethic… and a love of knowledge probably set the precedent for me. If you are going to tell a lie, then make it a good one. Otherwise, just stick to the facts!  Of course, one should tell the truth as you see it.  Yes, the empaths amongst us would argue that there are always three sides to a story – and they may be right. Reality seen from multiple perspectives, is not necessarily the amalgam of truth. But facts are facts. 2 + 2 = 4 in this universe… And yes…sigh… quantum physicists, I know it doesn’t in others, but that is not the point!


The point is: if you are going to speak your mind, tell your truth, diss someone or spill the beans…at least have the guts to do it in your own name.  Don’t dissemble. Don’t lie. Don’t get someone else to read it for you. Just say…and own up to it! Be true to yourself, not the journalist at  the other end of the mike. As the man said, ‘Just the facts, ma’am’… 


If you want to know why I’m so annoyed, check out: http://www.channel4.com/programmes/confessions-from-the-underground/episode-guide/series-1/episode-1

Hard-core Husky…

Chiromancer1 Comment

I should start this post by saying…no animals were harmed in the making of this blog and it was not written on the hard shoulder of the M4…any of you expecting voyeristic sex, or heavy breathing should stop reading and re-tune your satellite dish to the naughty channel!

Yes, dogs and harnesses were involved. Yes…on New Year’s Eve, so were a load of naked men in a sauna…more about that later…

Actually, the whole thing started because having grown up in a hot country, I happen to have a thing for snow. Goggles, a furry hat, and seven layers of underwear later, I found myself on a plane to Lapland in December.  Arriving in Kiruna, I had to do a double take on the thermometer…minus 25 Celcius. Pretty. Darn. Chilly.  That’s brass monkey weather to us normal folks…

I thought I knew what to expect.  Having good travelling companions was a given. Only fellow crazies or really good mates would don sledding gear and head out to the big white yonder with nothing but a tea light and some slippers to keep us warm!!  That was before we found out about the guy who didn’t make it, and whose ghost still lurks behind the first cabin we made camp at…Oliver – if you are out there, we come in peace…

What I didn’t expect was a guide who was a cross between Chuck Norris and Bilbo Baggins! What I didn’t expect was chopping frozen entrails twice a day.  And not a drop of alcohol in sight!  Or running water for that matter…the long drop loos are a whole blog on their own!

Despite expectation, what I got…was a pack of dogs – Honey, Simba, Isak and Nanuq to be precise – who loved me as I was. No make-up and nothing made up. They loved the moment, and so did I.

Despite expectation, what I got was a group of fellow travellers who were totally brilliant. In adversity – a.k.a. no booze – we had to forego our disguise and don our regular faces. No make-up, and nothing made up…honest people enjoying fresh, cold air and each other’s company. We loved the moment.

A good way to end 2011. A good way to start 2012.

Magic Mirror….

Chiromancer2 Comments

November is always the cruellest month. For me. Not for Harry Potter. At Hogwarts, November heralds the heroic moment just before the monster gets slain and everyone gets to sit down at a fabulous banquet. For me, it’s never a good time, because it’s also the month my father died. 

Like most days, he left for work.  Like most days, he kissed my mom.  Like most days, we thought he’d be coming back. He didn’t.  A pilot, he died from a massive heart attack in his early forties.  He was reading a book while his co-pilot flew the plane. At least he was doing something he loved.

I was sixteen, my sisters nine and six respectively.  Losing a parent at such an early age has left an indelible, but distinct mark on each of us – and although the scars have faded, they are still there if you probe hard enough. Anyone who has lost a parent, a lover, a sibling or a child will understand what I mean.

Harry Potter lost his parents too, and in one of his adventures, he finds The Mirror of Erised, a magic mirror that shows the ‘deepest and most desperate desires of ones heart’. He stares at that mirror for a long time, because in its reflection, he sees his parents as if they were alive.  I’ve always found that particular piece of the story very moving.  No piece of shiny glass would bring my dad back.

What I didn’t realise was that eventually, I too would find a magic mirror of sorts. An acquaintance sent us a YouTube video link which shows footage of my dad.  It’s part of an old TV documentary filming the Shackleton bomber. It’s extraordinary, because we never had a video camera, so we only have photos of my dad.  I can’t really describe how it felt to see him on that clip – captured in time, but very much present, very much alive.  It made me feel happy and incredibly sad at the same moment. 

So…this is my own reflection for today. The people we love and lose are never far from our hearts. The magic is in the remembering.

Common Scents…

Chiromancer1 Comment

The only thing I hate more than off-shore customer service (press #1 for some idiot who can’t answer your query and is reading this off a screen) is shopping for perfume. 

Perfume, like jewellery and underwear is a deeply personal choice. Women purchase these items based on a) their economic power, or b) their prediction of the outcome of the evening…snogging, sex and a wedding ring!  Men just purchase these items on the prediction they might a) get lucky or b) get away with it. They also buy perfume because they are in the airport and forgot your anniversary!

Either way, it’s important that the underwear matches, and that you smell good. After all, pheromones –  those tiny chemicals that trigger a social response in members of the same species – are probably responsible for the advancement of the species.  In scientific terms, they indicate the availability of the female for breeding, but that’s another story and another blog…

Pheromones aside, these days visiting a department store is guaranteed to bring me out in hives! Don’t get me wrong.  I love perfume, I just detest the vaporous assistants who see it as their mission from the God of Bad Smells to spray you with the scent they happen to be promoting as you walk through the door…Ooh yes, I have always wanted to smell like trailer trash…gimme some of that freshly ground rat, a.k.a. Britney Spears!

Call me old fashioned, but I long for the days when perfume had numbers. As a solvent woman of independent means, I do not – and I mean not – want to smell like Cheryl Cole or Jodie Marsh. They might be on the top shelf in the newsagent, but  I’m happy to be on the shelf. At least I smell better than they do…

Most of these new fangled, D-list celebrity scents pong like cat pee…Tonight I was privvy to an advert for Jimmy Choo perfume. As in J.Choo. Yes. Shoes. Feet. Really? We know these are good shoes, but honestly, do you want to smell like your feet do? I don’t think so!The obsequious sales people who promote it deserve to get shot by the fashion police – or at least sprayed with air freshener! 

The best smells in life are the ones that evoke memory. And our sense of smell is closely allied to our limbic system – the part of our brain that is prehistoric. Sense of smell is inbuilt. As is the emotional response we feel when something good hits our nose.  Cinnnamon. Cookies. The smell of clean laundry and lavender. Salt on skin. Basil, lavender and lemongrass – freshly mown lawn. Seaweed and spice. Tomatoes.  The way our babies smell. Clean, Pure. Fresh.

I’m not sure there is a perfume that does all of that…but if I could smell half as good as this summer has been, I’d buy it…

Postcards from the Edge…

ChiromancerLeave a comment

I use my brain for a living, so it’s funny how ideas pop into my head when I’m not actually trying to think.  One of my ideas was to go on holiday in Mexico.  Well, I figured I deserved a holiday after the cosmic butt-kicking that has been my life of late!  I canvassed a few mates, made some enquiries and before you could say El Jimador, we were lying on the Yucatan peninsula soaking up rays and enjoying the life aquatic!

 I usually travel alone, so it made a welcome change to be sharing cocktails at Miami airport with an old friend and getting to know the locals when we arrived. Another friend arrived. We spent the week talking about cats, philosophy & things that didn’t really matter. We shared the things that did…We hired a car and drove when and where we weren’t supposed to.  We swam in a lagoon filled with tropical fish and the odd Barracuda. We saw sea turtles and watched a mother lay eggs in the sand, and another clutch of babies battle their way into the sea. We went snorkelling in underwater cenotes. We developed a taste for ceviche and habaneros, washed down with frozen Margueritas.  We explored the ruins of an ancient civilisation, and saw the ruin created by a modern one. Blissful!

One of my holiday habits is to write a postcard to myself.  I jot down 3-5 resolutions to remind me of how I felt while I was away, and what I want to achieve when I return home. Just when reality bites and you have to go back to being a grown up, your postcard arrives to cheer you up and boost your resolve. This time, although I bought the card, it remains blank.  Perhaps I haven’t thought of what I want to accomplish, but I think it’s blank because after reaching a ripe old age, I’ve accepted that life is mysterious and challenging. It ebbs and flows like the ocean.

In Mexico, our past was in another country, our present in a place filled with colour and sunshine. Our future…well, a bit like the writing in the sand that gets washed away by the tide… that’s unwritten. Perhaps that is how it will stay.

Wild cats and other animals…

Chiromancer2 Comments

Women’s lib has clearly failed judging by the latest ‘article’ in the magazine at mylocal hairdressing salon. I use the word ‘article’ loosely since it implies some degree of intelligence and more than a smidge of writing ability.  Neither were evident in this tawdry piece of journalistic tat!

Yet again, the object of my ire is one of those really vacant essays on the relationships between younger men and older women. In this nobel prize-winning segment (not!) we were invited to pass judgement on Pumas, Cheetas and Cougars – the implication being that if you like younger men enough to sleep with them, you are either deviant or desperate!

What really got me was that this was described as a ‘new trend’.  Well, hello!  I, and a select band of my female friends have been doing this for years… The first boy I kissed was in the year below me – Ok, I was the same age as him, but in those days that was tantamount to being an older woman!  Most of the men I have dated, had serious relationships with, and almost married have been younger than me. So. Blinking. What!

What really got me was the ageism implicit in the article. Women in their 20s and 30s dating younger men were just about ok – women in their 40s dating younger men, were badged as ‘predatory’. Puh-leeze! It takes two to tangle! Besides, not being one for convention, I’ve decided to be an Ocelot! Salvador Dali had one as a pet, they are rarer than snow leopards…and… if you happen to find one in your bed, just thank your lucky stars it’s a nuzzle, and not a death bite!

I really resent the implication that as a woman, you can’t find happiness with someone younger than yourself.  Let’s be honest here…no one seems to bat an eyelid at the fact that wrinkly octagenarian males are free to shag, marry and obey nubile young women several decades their junior. Put that in an article and most red-blooded males are ready to go ‘whoop, whoop’!  Why then, does society judge older women so harshly.  Has anyone stopped to think that they might actually enjoy being with someone who doesn’t expect them to conform. Has anyone stopped to think that men their age might actually be a) boring b) have baggage and c) just be really disappointing in bed?  Not to mention incontinent!

You can’t teach an old dog new tricks. As for me, I’m a cat person, and always will be.