Let’s stop relying on or waiting for others to save us.
Super Heroes have played a vital role in how we see those who are meant to protect us from harm. They were largely created to be seen as crime fighters, ultimate saviors, crusaders against evil and bad forces. In the early 20th century, the first comic book heroes were created, as a way to fend off fear of war (WW 1), and present its audiences with the illusion of a super human capable of problem solving, saving and restoring peace to the world. That is only reserved for the pages of Marvel and DC comic books. What the comic books don’t tell you is that we are all perfectly capable of being your own superheroes.
Don’t wait for others to protect you, put your life together, absolve you of your responsibilities and save the day. We are the only ones who can do that, our saving starts from us. We are the only ones who can fend off the baddies from our lives, and protect ourselves from the evil forces that come our way. Instinct, survival, self preservation, self reliance. It all comes down to knowing that when the shit hits the fan, you can pick up the sword and fight your own battles, and win.
The battles will come, as they always do. The difficulties are never far away. The hardships will come and go. We may have sidekicks who help us, or villains who set traps for us, but the saving is all about our own self worth. A saviour is not out there dawning a cape and spandex, they are right here staring right back at you in your bathroom mirror. Heroism isn’t about super abilities, it’s about doing what’s necessary to keep going, and keep living.
a person who saves someone or something from danger or difficulty.
That person is you.
Make it count.
That sliver of light reflected in a dark moment.
With the sounds of the Smiths in my ears, I’m thinking about truthful, honest, compassionate, emotional, beautiful ways in which we can connect with ourselves and others.
This is not a trial run. It’s the main course, the only life we are given. I am smitten. We owe it to ourselves to be a beam of light cutting through the clouds. Take notice. What works, what doesn’t. Holding on to shit you don’t need may seem comfortable, familiar, safe.
Safety is an illusion.
Our time on this earth is minimal, I’m not being subliminal. These are the facts. We act out the parts we thought we could play. We stray away from what we really want instead of plunging into the unknown and trusting what we know to be true. Think about the impact you want to have, the thing that will stay long after you’re gone. That is the sliver of light. Who you are in the cloudy sky.
I know it’s not fair, years may go by and all you focus on is the misery the monotony in your heart. Stand apart from the crowd, dare to wear red in an all gray life.
Fuck them. War isn’t the answer. See above the clouds.
Loving, respecting, knowing yourself is key to every aspect of your life. It’s not selfish, it’s essential.
Self Love, is much maligned, misunderstood and mismanaged. I’ve battled with this for as long as I can remember. Self loathing has led me towards poor choices in partners, in jobs, in career paths. Rooting for myself has never been easy. There are countless times I can remember needlessly comparing myself, doubting my abilities, choosing abusive and toxic relationships because I had no love to give back to myself.
I never thought I deserved it. It’s what I knew best. Self criticism, my first line of defense. Self doubt, was the kicker at the end of a long road to not believing in my abilities, or my strengths . Self love has come with great effort. Knowing that I have to look at myself and ignore the asshole who tells me I’m not worthy, I am not deserving, I’m ugly, I won’t amount to anything, who at times has a megaphone and I can’t shut her up. I never said it makes any sense, it doesn’t. For anyone who deals with this asshole, it’s like the addiction you can’t kick.
Now, after years of doing the work, falling off the wagon and getting back on, she’s still there, but I’ve placed her in her corner, in the back seat with a snack and some boxed juice so she doesn’t bother me so often. I recently spoke to a friend who gave me this visual to think about when referring to my self made demons. Mine mumbles from time to time about not good enough and I tell her to be quiet. She’s lucky I still let her sit in the room with me, far away and out of view. I don’t know if I can get rid of her completely but I know that she is part of me, and I’ve outgrown her power over me.
How Self Love Begins with Us.
It took a very long time and a lot of false starts to unwind the tightly wound idea in my head that I don’t deserve the best life has in store. The asshole still comes around strong from time to time. I know how to deal with her, despite the familiarity of it all. Self love has taken forms that I had never thought possible and it has always started with understanding, accepting, allowing and being ok with who I am and have become. The rituals have changed, the narrative has been altered, to allow for stronger boundaries, wiser choices and deeper forgiveness. Love is always rooted and built upon honesty. Being honest with myself about my accomplishments and my flaws has allowed me the space to grow. The darkness never quite goes away. Those who suffer know this all too well, but in the end, LOVE WINS.
Start with Self Love. It may be hard at times, you may relapse and go back to your self loathing ways. But like any recovering self loather. It about loving yourself one day at a time.
It’s not just about the food.
The cultural and religious references defining lent have been engrained since my early upbringing. Greek culture like countless others, defines the period of lent as a way to “cleanse” the body, and ultimately the mind by abstaining from any meat, eggs, cheese or animal bi-products for 40 days before the coming of Easter, Pascha, Pasqua, Πἀσχα. All organized religions practice some sort of cleanse, renewal, in order to prepare for spiritual and mental advancement, not many follow what traditions ask of us.
For the 20 plus years I’ve lived outside of Greece, this tradition has taken a new meaning for me. Although the mark of Kathara Deytera (the official beginning of lent) as a jumping off point is lovely to partake in, I left behind the idea of eating Taramosalata and boiled Octopus, and focused more on what behaviors, thought processes, ideas and babits I needed to abstain from and ultimately do away with. It’s not just about quitting animal meat, or losing weight, but revisiting what truly unhealthy habits, we must let go of.
If we are to honestly connect with our bodies and minds in a healthier way, we have to make a concerted effort to let go of habits, behaviors, though processes that cause damage, hold us back, and keep us from our highest potential. It may be hard or easy, but ultimately rewarding to remove personal obstacles to our growth.
For the next 40 days make a choice, stick to it. A new goal, a new habit can replace an old damaging one. Removing sugar is not effective if you’re drinking 4 cups of coffee a day and smoking. A short run or a long walk can replace a cab ride, aiming for a meaningful conversation instead of pointless chatter. Abstaining from meat can be coupled with a holistic approach to food and how you prepare it, healthier food choices overall, healthier body and mind choices in the long run. My 40 day cleanse short list I’ll share with you here.
- remove all alcohol, spirits & coffee
- short run 3 times a week and weight training
- writing every day for this challenge
- spend quality time with friends and family
- schedule a self care session once a week.
- Shorten my time online that’s not work related.
write down your short list for lent. Share this experience with your loved ones, ask them to keep you accountable to your journey. See you on the other side.
Paying homage to the women who have shaped, fed, loved and nurtured me over the years.
“If the first woman God ever made was strong enough to turn the world
upside down all alone, these women together ought to be able to turn it
back, and get it right side up again! And now they is asking to do it. The
men better let them.” Ain’t I a woman – Sojourner Truth
The kind of woman I always wanted to be didn’t come into view until my late 30’s. I was not aware of my strengths, I didn’t know how to harness my femininity, my passions and my voice. There were and still are many aspects of the woman I want to become that have yet to reveal themselves. I have since found there are a lot of women who are and have similar experiences finding their true identity. Although I have amazing, friends, guides, and teachers in my life, up until recently I didn’t know how to embody the woman I could be proud of. Who was that woman to me? How did she reflect herself to the outside world?
The woman I have now come to love, I owe to the countless women who have given me the thread to continue to honor my ancestors, my guides and my mentors along the way. Everything I have I owe to the women in my life. Sharing who I am openly here and in my poetry comes from the continuous support of my mothers (biological and adopted), grandmothers, friends, sisters, aunts, mentors, witches. Powerful, loving women, held me up when I was collapsing, held me accountable when I was being an asshole, trusted me with their hearts and helped my connect with mine. Loving and being loved has been shown to me by the careful guidance, of countless women over the years.
The strength I gather from the women around me, our common and no so common experiences, started at a very young age. At 5 I observed my grandmother in her infinite wisdom and strength give me life lessons I was only to understand later in life. My voice teacher in grade school ignited my passions for writing and singing, encouraging me to unabashedly find my voice. My wild artistic and uncompromising side was encouraged and celebrated by my close friends who knew that an untamed heart was better than a closed one.
These amazing accomplished, courageous women, saw me for my potential, raised me to be strong and independent and taught me to think for myself. I was drawn to their wisdom and their complexity. Women defined me and shaped me as an artist in school, a writer in college and a performer in my late 30’s. My sisters have encouraged me to be myself, speak my truth, show my vulnerability, share my experience, in ways that will always humble and astound me.
To celebrate the women in our lives is to celebrate life itself. To honor the women who have given before us, we honor our place in her-story. In the next few posts I’ll be sharing small stories from the women who have and continue to be my backbone.
Happy Womens HER-Story month.
Two years after a global pandemic – The new normal is anything but.
After taking an extended hiatus from my daily posts during this pandemic, I’ve slowly come back to establishing a forum for reflecting and discussing the issues, thoughts and ideas that have stuck with me for the past two years. I don’t think I’m alone in the creative conundrum that was born out of these times we are all living in. I’ve made small efforts to ignite thoughts that mattered, ideas that stuck, words that felt right. Now, it’s time. Of course the events that have unfolded since March 2020 are so life changing; they significantly impacted every single part of our lives. The world has been turned upside down and inside out, and I’m grateful to be alive at a time like this.
The past two years have been an immense opportunity for self reflection, global awareness, re-evaluation and re-calibration. In other ways a revelation in grasping a renewed sense of purpose. Dealing with the fear of the unknown, trusting our instincts, understanding what works and what doesn’t in our lives; is a lifelong experiment. The images, feelings and thoughts of the events that shaped those first two weeks of March 2020, felt like tectonic plates were shifting under our feet. My then daily posts felt trivial, and unnecessary in the grand scheme of the survival mode we were globally thrust into. My world became my Brooklyn neighborhood. The mental exhaustion of times we are all living through, had stigmatized any real creative juices from flowing. Growing, moving, changing cities (again), packing up my life in New York, and experimenting with a life that’s new, different and strangely familiar; are some of the things that I will be sharing with you all during the next 27 days.
now, the time has come.
There are too many things that have sparked my attention in the past two years that it seems ripe for the picking.
Join me, and welcome to my stories from the Edge (again)
Stay safe, aware, and grateful.
A tale of two cities. in Verse
Metal gods loomed over the skyline, reminding me to be free instead of locked in up in my head. I didn’t know any better. Letting the isolation sink in, it cut to the bone, sapping my very existence. I learned quickly. Pretence isn’t looked upon kindly here. Here you make it because you ate shit for breakfast and it really doesn’t matter what anybody thinks.
“What the FUCK are you looking at!”, she shouts as you quickly avert your gaze, as she hits you with daggers of anger and fear. Imagine how hard you have to become in order to survive this grind and still plant trees of love and understanding, but now they’re rebranding Gotham City into a Monopoly Game. Property moguls eating up land faster than pacman ever could.
You once stood tall, but now.
Game Over. Move over lady this isn’t for you any more. Dark alleyways, dimly lit, covered in the wheat paste dreams of momentary and permanent art gods. The grunting sounds of kitchens working to feed a city that never slept. But now silence. As you hear the footsteps in front of you disappear.
Kindness comes from places you hardly expect. Even though they say no one cares, you get the stare of recognition of common pain. She knows what you’re dealing with as you fight back tears on a Brooklyn bound F train. Get off a stop early to collect yourself and, put on your dark glasses so others don’t see you strain. Suck it up, pull it together. There will be good days and bad days but this place makes a Human out of you with a capital H.
You walk up second avenue, conjuring up images in your head about how you got here in the first place. Will you triumph over your fears, or cower in self defence? Condensed dreams in a flash, sweep by you, bringing you to an intense euphoria as you realize it’s all about to end.
Walk a block up.
Those moments of quaint rarity and clarity bubble up into the Manhattan Skyline. Right across the way, under the PepsiCo Sign, sublime afternoons overlooking the Hudson, moments of chaotic oneness, undone through the blaring sirens of cop cars. Bars overflowing with lonely boys trying to get your attention. “Hey pretty, wanna grab a drink with me?”
Nah I’m good.
I remember how I once stood, alone wondering how this would all turn out.
Fade to black.
Sirens, lure me onto ancient lands that are far more about fiction than fact. The dream is intact even though we are packed in like rats. 5 Million souls and counting, and everyone is in your damn business.
A village, A rock, An ancient ideal now lost in the cement crevices of the mind. We are strangers here. Nomads. Others. Coming and going and finding our way out of the darkness. Slowly trying to prove to every passerby to look up at the skies, instead we limit ourselves to what’s available, attainable and nothing more.
That isn’t my game.
I came here to create change. No matter what. Lingering in the dimly lit passageways of my fatherland now lost in its ugliness and disrepair. People here stare at you as if trying to find the answer to their own insecurities and grief. Knee deep in regrets they never knew they had, they stand tall against the creeping fear mongering and laundering of hope.
I smile gently urging you to invite me to your ceremony. My tears shed in apotheosis of a dream long deferred, but no more. The allure of Athenian mysteries becomes clear, a litany of a city long demolished & rebuild on repeat.
I stand still for a moment to take it all in. The clouds of doubt have dispersed once again, to reveal the softness within.
How to keep true to a city and leave it behind.
I’ve decided the let go of New York. My time in the City that helped me grow as a person, a woman and a writer, has now come to a close. I’ve not let go of her yet, and even when I eventually physically leave the city, I will never leave her. She’s been my companion through truly hard times, and through beautifully joyous ones. The stories of the past nine years are coming back to me as I gather them, life morsels, savoured through every memory created in this vast metropolis.
The stories I will continue to tell, are built upon this city of metal, false hope, real struggle and immense courage. She continues to evolve, as I have. The observer and the observed once again merged. Now more strongly than ever before; I look at her slowly disappearing from my rear view mirror as I move decidedly and quietly to the next leg of this writing journey.
She will always be with me, I’ll take her wherever I go In the only way I can, through my writing, my poetry, my spoken word and my commitment. I’m devoted to her in ways I never thought possible and although leaving her may be a foolish errand, New York will push me no matter how tired I am, to build something worthwhile, and something that’s truly mine.
Leaving is never easy. She may not forgive me. I hope she will. My love for her is eternal. She knows me like few cities do. She’s seen me break down in tears in public like all New Yorkers have because let’s be honest it’s a right of passage. You cry yucky tears on the train home from work next to a complete stranger and no one will bother you; Not because they don’t care, but because crying in the subway at 6:00pm on a Tuesday beckons you to the reality that is this city. She’s a bitch but she cares.
I’ll cary her, as she carried me though these tough, enigmatic, wonderfully tragic years of transformation. I will return to her doorstep from time to time, for coffee, a bagel some good conversations and a slap in the face to remind me to stay true to my convictions.
Thank you baby it’s been real. F*ck I love you.