Life in the very fast lane...: The latest article for Inspire magazine. Anyonecan...

Life in the very fast lane...: The latest article for Inspire magazine. Anyonecan...: The latest article for Inspire magazine.   Anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending. I feel certain that each and ev...

The latest article for Inspire magazine.

 

Anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.

I feel certain that each and every one of us has, at a time, had to start again.  As Carl Bard so aptly said – “although no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending”.  I simply love that adage.

Whilst Mother Earth has the annual four seasons, so do we too, at times, have our own personal spring, that follows our own personal winter.

I recently had to face a multitude of fears and demons, and walk through an emotional cobbled street of hot coals, in order to reach the end of one road, and yet the beginning of another.  At times I felt sure that there was simply no way I would be able to complete the task at hand, yet, when extreme mental might was needed, there I found it, nestled comfortably on a pillow labeled “inner strength found here”.

It is when we feel our weakest that we are often in fact our strongest; it is when one door closes that a gilt-lined castle sized door opens up right before our eyes; it is when one period of our lives ends, that another, more exciting one begins and, like a brand new sparkling sunrise, we are given the gift and the opportunity to start over.

The trick, of course, is to try not to drag the mistakes of the previous season into the clean palate of this new, fresh, lime green period.  Whilst this is all good in theory, we all know that this is not as easy as it sounds.  And so, whilst the possibility of new opportunities excites me, I know I need to turn away from past memories of mistakes, and rush boldly forward into unchartered territory – completely believing that the best is yet to come.

I have studied at length great entrepreneurs who have lost all they had, only to turn things around and go on to succeed far more than even they could have dreamt of.  When I completed my Creative Writing course last year, we were cautioned ad nauseam as to how few writers truly succeed, and given examples of authors who submitted numerous manuscripts which were turned down, yet, they kept going and approaching new author houses, finally to win their own race, and with record scores.  One such example is “The Help” – a novel by Kathryn Stockett which was later turned into a first rate movie.  Kathryn submitted her manuscript more than sixty times before it was finally accepted.  She never gave up; as one door slammed rudely in her face, she knocked politely on the next one.  Giving up was never an option.  And last but not least, my favourite example – world class American band Lady Antebellum – whose female lead, Hillary Scott, was thrown out of American Idol in round one.  She took the rejection well, and moved on to look for other opportunities… and take a look at her now.

There is most certainly a place in the world for those try, try and try again, and whilst I have in the past been prone to wilting just before the finish line, the past decade has taught me that this world is not for sissies, and that those who are prepared to get up and carry on when they have no idea how they will make it through the next minute, never mind hour, will be the individuals who win in the end, and who live to see the dawn of another super-charged day, which is literally alive with possibility.

My own story involves a move of home, across provinces, down valleys and transcending rivers.  I was warned, more than once, that a move was incredibly stressful, but I ignored the warnings and felt sure I could handle it all in my stride.  Well, handle it I did, but stride, well, I am not so sure.  There were times when I traded my water glass for a large wine goblet, and there were times too when even my water glass neatly read “Bombay Sapphire” on the side of it, and no-one was happier than me.  When trucks broke down or got lost, or both, and when precious worldly goods arrived in a state of disrepair, I thought for real that I was circling the drain they call insanity.  All that being said, one of my great friends gently reminded me that to throw a tantrum or give in to a “mid-life meltdown” would only have harmed one person, me, and really, was it worth it?  Sage advice indeed.

The move is now behind me and I realise that it was so worth the emotional roller-coaster it took to get to this point; to go and face those aforementioned emotional demons, to pick myself up, dust myself off, and carry on.  And whilst I realise too that there are some endings that are truly final, and never to be re-explored, so too are there brand new, shiny beginnings. 

So for those who are tempted to give up, my advice would be not to.  We should all learn from those who have tried and failed, and continued until they have succeeded.  Life does bring us endings, but focus not on those; instead, turn your face to the sunrise, and to the new day, to the opportunities that lie ahead, and focus only on starting over, and creating that brand new ending. 

Life in the very fast lane...: It is a well-known fact that my most favourite met...

Life in the very fast lane...: It is a well-known fact that my most favourite met...: It is a well-known fact that my most favourite metropolis in the world is one New York City.   Part of my soul resides there, and I have l...

It is a well-known fact that my most favourite metropolis in the world is one New York City.  Part of my soul resides there, and I have long debated the wish to have, once I have moved on, at least a third of my ashes scattered in the shoe shops of this very city… just so somehow, I will always be amongst my favourite accessories, in my favourite place.

Of course, we all remember today the events of twelve years ago, and as much as I wanted to write on my experience and thoughts on the subject, I was fearful I would appear to be passé.  I have decided to take the risk, and write anyway.

I was in New York a couple of months before that fateful day – carefree, partying up a hurricane, sitting in bars and restaurants until way past their normal closing times.  I had such a wonderfully fun time, that a good friend of mine said as I was off to the airport to fly home, that she needed to take me everywhere twice – once to show me a good, entertaining establishment, and the next time for me to apologise to management for my behaviour on round one. 

I was young then (and oh, so thin!), and whilst I was still young when I returned that December for Christmas with family, I remember so clearly looking at the Manhattan skyline whilst crossing the Brooklyn Bridge, and somehow, with the missing towers, I felt older, more weathered, and slightly weakened by the sorrow felt for the thousands of individuals affected by such an incredible show of human cruelty on that clear Autumn day.

Manhattan changed that day, and so did we all. 

Most of the people I know, knew someone who was either there, or knew someone who knew someone who was there; and all of the people I know remember where they were, and who they were with when the news reached their ears.  I remember madly dashing to get hold of my family and some friends, to no avail, and days of no contact followed.  Excruciating for me, yet nothing compared to what others went through.

I have watched so many 9/11 documentaries in the last twelve years, as so many of us have – literally fascinated by the footage, and devastated by the suffering experienced.  I have new respect for fire fighters post that day; I have respect for the triumph of the human spirit, which revealed itself in individuals who somehow escaped, and managed to save others; but mostly, I have respect for humanity as a whole, as that day proved to all of us how, in the face of tragedy and extreme adversity, humans literally pull together and help each other as much as their physical strength allows them to.

That December the feeling in Manhattan was so different to any previous visit, and any visit since.  I remember getting a take-out pizza very late one evening (you guessed it, on the way home from a wine bar), and printed on the top of the pizza box was the American flag with the words, “We will never forget”.  How completely apt.

Whilst I do not want to dwell on the negative, I am of the belief that those pizza-box-words were some of the best I have heard since that day – “we will never forget” - nor should we.

Remembering and honouring all those who fell that day, their families, and their friends. 

Truly, we will never forget.

Life in the very fast lane...: I moved house recently, and as I suspect is a comm...

Life in the very fast lane...: I moved house recently, and as I suspect is a comm...: I moved house recently, and as I suspect is a common occurrence, I came upon many items I had temporarily stored in my mental file thirtee...

I moved house recently, and as I suspect is a common occurrence, I came upon many items I had temporarily stored in my mental file thirteen.  Amongst those, were literally volumes of photograph albums I have accumulated through my life, and I could not resist taking thirty minutes off from box unpacking to take a peek at them.

Some photographs made me sad, as I looked at snaps of happy times with folk who have subsequently left this planet and headed to heaven.  Too many of these photographs in fact.  However, most images made me happy as I recalled some incredible times in my life, mainly travelling, and having that wonderful feeling of freedom and of, “everything will be okay”, and the even better feeling of, “even if it isn’t okay, I don’t care, I will deal with it”.

I read such a brilliant quote recently – “travel is the only thing you buy that makes you richer”.  How very true.  I have come to terms with the fact that the nanosecond I popped into the world, I was ingrained with a travel bug so clear that if it were a glass door, you would walk straight into it.  Along with that bug came a lust for all things freedom – wonderful as a teenager, and a young adult through university, and my London days too, but not so wonderful for anyone trying to date me now, in fact, I have been told that trying to date me in my roaring forties, with this very love of travel and all things “don’t try and pin me down” is much like trying to grab a tiger by its tail.  Oh dear.

All this being said, I turned the pages of the old albums, and my heart soared at the memory of all the incredible fun I have had through the decades, and how lucky I have been to have travelled so much, and to have seen and done so many things – and there is still so much to do and see, and so many places to shake up a bit through my mere presence post the inevitable bottle of sauvignon blanc. 

There were pictures that made me pine for that old, no responsibility in the world feeling; there were pictures that made me cringe – like the one of my cousin and I hanging onto police men on New Year’s Eve 2001 in New York City, trying to get ourselves arrested as we thought that may add some spice to the evening.  Probably not our smartest move a mere three months post the tragedy of the 11^th of September; and there were pictures that reminded me that life is a treasure, and that each and every trip in my life has been a gift, and has added to my already colourful life, and I must appreciate that.

And so the departing thoughts (yes, there are two) – travel as much as possible, spend that money that will make you richer, and more importantly, remember that life is short, so make sure you laugh, while you still have teeth.