Cartagena De Indias

 

“Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.”

William Wordsworth

 

Somewhere between the intensely colourful streets of Cartagena’s old walled town and the heavenly tropical islands that sit along her historical coastline I left some pieces of my heart. I know I will go back there someday, not to retrieve those pieces, but to scatter more around the crumbling 16^th century cobblestones of this utterly charming Colombian port town. This is no ordinary seaside destination. It overflows with something for every human sense you have and perhaps for the ones you’ve not yet discovered: art, music, history, food, architecture and of course, love.

It was love itself that brought myself, my mother (coughing like an old dog left outside a shed in the damp misty drizzly rain of a West Kerry winter morning) my brother and his family, and a handful of Irish friends to this northern patch of South America’s vast soil. Green palm trees jutted out from wooden slats and welcomed us off the plane and into the humid maritime air, air we would gulp into our Celtic lungs for the next three weeks or so after an unforgettably cold, wet and grey few months back home. I inhaled deeply. My mother inhaled deeply too then her chest rattled like chains on a train line. We both really felt like crying after 14 hours of her incessant (that is NOT an exaggeration) inflight coughing. We didn’t cry though, we held it together, well, until we saw our gorgeous and precious Des and his beautiful Analucy leaning against the pillar outside the airport, arms around each other, waiting for us. Hugs and relief all round.  Finally, we had arrived. After hours traversing the North Atlantic Ocean we found ourselves standing on this golden veiled Caribbean seaboard and at the start of what now feels like a very sweet dream.

The roar of the ocean filled the jeep as I rolled down the window. Waves rolled in and crashed against (and often over) low set stone walls set along the beach. Bright yellow taxis and insanely fast public buses raced wildly through vast pools of sea water. The frenetic beeping of car horns punctured the sea’s white noise with heart stopping shrills and the palm trees shook increasingly in the evening air. That happy and edgy hormone that kicks in when I’m somewhere new and unfamiliar kept my jetlag at bay. My brain couldn’t keep up with all the new sights and sounds.  As Des navigated the chaotic traffic with his trademark casual and calm manner telling us stories, I started thinking about all the things I wanted to see and do. “I’ll have to visit Medellín, coffee plantations, national parks, I should have brought my hiking boots- hard to fit everything in the bag! (Truth be told my gold stilettoes and other such fancies took priority this time) "I didn’t get any vaccinations, what about the Amazon?” Actually, you know what…. No. Stop, stop, STOP! I quickly realised that this trip was going to be different. There would be no checklist, no guidebook, and no itinerary. I was here to meet new family, new friends, immerse myself in my brother’s new home city and above all be witness to the very special coming together of two lovely people.

 So I took it down a notch and rambled around for days on end. It wasn’t until I visited the Castillo De San Felipe fort that I got some small sense of Cartagena’s important history. It wasn’t until I visited the local cosmopolitan cafés, modern art museum and bars that I realised its home to greatly talented sculptors and painters, global cuisine and rum pouring barmen- make mine a double, please Senõr! It wasn’t until I ate 'Pie de Coco' did I realise the people’s love of a sweet dessert, think apple tart but with coconut. And little did I know of the magical Colombian hospitality until I met Des' in laws. Each one warmer and more generous than the next. My mother’s sun hat flew off her curly mop of hair one day and a passer- by chased it out onto the road, ultimately going out of his way retrieving it for her. The heavens opened in a biblical style downpour the day of the wedding and the hairdresser who had done my hair stood with me for 10 minutes outside his salon with his own umbrella waiting to hail a by now scare taxi. I appreciate that on this particular trip I was in the touristy part of the city for most of it and tourist spots are not always very real or at least don't allow us to see true life. It is however worth stating that apart from one awful encounter (for someone else, not me) with a corrupt cop and seeing a dirty old man take a sneaky photo of an unsuspecting female’s bottom (the bloody creep) the fact remains that Colombia is most definitely stepping out of its male dominated, blood drenched and white powdery past. Colombia once famed for cocaine and women is changing. What is that quote again? 'To travel is to discover that everyone is wrong about other countries.'

Colombia’s neighbour Venezuela, itself in the middle of what could well be the fastest growing humanitarian crisis in Latin American history played a part in this trip to Colombia too. Standing at almost every traffic light or t- junction along the beach were Venezuelan immigrants selling their wares and sadly for some of the women, their bodies. Handwritten notices on blackened cardboard hanging from their weary necks pleading for help. These were doctors, nurses, teachers back in their own country, now selling bic razors and buns in the insufferable midday sun in an attempt to feed themselves and their families. I saw footage of a group of Venezuelan men and women frenetically chasing down a cow in a field in an attempt to kill and eat it. Kill or die from hunger. Seeing these men, women and children fill the beaches and streets made me think of my godchild Henry and the Venezuelan blood that pumps around his lively and beautiful little body. I hope that someday as an adult he will be boarding a flight to Venezuela with his sister to meet his mother's family there and the conflict currently unfurling is spoken about as a long distant memory and one they will say was resolved faster than the world had ever expected.

We laughed a lot on this holiday, a helleva lot actually! We stood, waist high in warm silky sea water a lot too, beers in our hands, red snapper in our bellies, talking, reminiscing and howling with uproarious laughter- mostly at our friend Kevin’s stories from home- stomach clutching, tears rolling down your face stuff, all against the backdrop of yet another perfect sunset. New friends met old ones- all ages and from all over the globe. This sort of thing doesn’t happen very often in life so we savoured and appreciated every second of it. My mother walked into the wrong apartment one morning in Analucy’s building to be met by a man in his bed, in some state of undress I presume. “Jesus Christ, what are you doing here?” she exclaimed at the red faced proprietor of the apartment before realising her mistake and wondering what in fact she was doing there! Cut to the dance floor the night of the wedding where my mother dancing with some style with some local music star (and his impressive dread locks) when she felt a tap on the shoulder...  the guy from the apartment!! Turns out he was a friend of Luci’s. They took a photo to mark their second and altogether less embarrassing encounter!

 Go where your heart leads you. I try to listen to my heart and to my mind in equal measure, each as instructive and intuitive as the other. If you and your heart and your mind ever find yourselves in this delightful part of the world, stay still, get lost walking the streets and give it the time it so richly deserves because it is a place of exquisite beauty and interest. As I walked up the steps to board the flight back to London I felt something I’d never felt before. I felt I was leaving home to go somewhere new. I didn’t want to leave, I wanted to stay. When I did walk through the door of my own home (minus my luggage- it followed me the next day) I was of course glad to be home as it is a much loved sanctuary for me. I don’t know how long more I’ll be in this particular house but for now it is where I am. I think I was born with a heart that can throw down roots anywhere and for that I will be forever glad. I do however hope that any home I ever have in the future is as colourful and warm as Cartagena, that the people who cross my door are as kind and loving as my extended Colombian family and new friends and that the brilliant salsa-loving sun that energised me there will shine brightly in my soul for many years to come.

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hiking the Cabo Blanco

       “No one saves us but ourselves. No one can and no one may. We ourselves must walk the path.” 

- BUDDHA-

 
The Nicoya Peninsula, Costa Rica, Central America.

Left or right? I couldn’t decide. One path looked well-trodden, the other a little more ungroomed.  A quick look at my battered, old and not- so- smart phone informed me that it was 4 minutes to 8am. The mercury was rising but morning freshness still filled the air. Thick green rainforest surrounded me. I was told this trail, through steep cliffs and gigantic trees, would eventually lead to the big blue ocean. With basic Spanish I translated the two signs in front of me. One said "easy" the other read "difficult."  “Oh well, I’m definitely taking the easy route,” I thought- I am hiking alone after all and only one (very sleepy looking) park ranger knows I’m even in here. What if I fell? already picturing the scene of doom: compound fracture to the lower left tibia, a pool of blood trickling down the rocks, screams for help muffled only by the enormous chests of the 15 or so howler monkeys that would surround me and maul me into a most premature and ghastly death. A loud rustle of leaves overhead woke me from this hair raising scenario and drew my eye up to a little coati sitting on a branch.  He stared at me judgingly for a couple of nano seconds before scampering off into the green abyss.  There were creatures unknown above, below and all around.

 Water-check. Sun cream- check. Food- check. Slight nervous rumble in the tummy- check. I started walking. It felt nice and safe to have decided to take the easy hike. Good decision. But as expected I’d hardly climbed a couple of metres up when that old familiar voice in my head started to chatter. “Why are you taking the easy path Liz? Go back and try the other one- it might be trickier-but if you don’t go- you’ll never know!” I felt my heart start to beat. I was scared of the path less travelled but I turned around and went back. 

After an hour or so the gentle incline had morphed into to an arduous and steep scramble up loose muddy rocks and through green shiny leaves. I was high up now.  This was a difficult hike alright. It wasn’t Mount Everest, granted, but you’d want your wits about you all the same. I suppose there is a certain caution one needs to adopt when travelling alone, or doing anything alone for that matter.  A flat green mossy stone caught my eye as the perfect seat for a snack.  I unpacked my bag and chomped down on a cheese and ham roll. The self-generated noises of hiking: the walking, the panting, the crunches of sticks, the clickety click of rucksack straps and the squish of mud made way for pure silence as I sat and ate. The animals had grown quiet and the only sound now was the slow and steady white noise of the ocean, wherever it was. 

 
I recall, at one point being very unsure of where I was. There were no signposts, just a track (of sorts).  Doubt crept in telling me I’d taken a wrong turn somewhere. It had been over 3 hours at this point. My feet were hot and tingly but the sound of the surf was steadily growing louder so I trusted my gut and kept moving forward. The climb had been going in a downwards decline for the last 20 minutes or so.  I bent down to avoid a slap in the snoz from a low swinging branch and as I straightened up to go forward again, there it was, the glimpse of blue magic through a gap in the bushes. I pushed the branches out of my way and there before me like a turquoise silk carpet laid down by the hands of some supernatural being was The Pacific Ocean.  Two headlands jutted out like outstretched arms, hugging the white sandy beach into their broad forest chest. Almond trees lined the beach, a few gulls screeched overhead and pieces of driftwood littered the shoreline. I steadied myself and jumped down from the sandy bank. I’d only love to tell you that at this point an absolute hunk of life altering proportions emerged from the sea, water glistening and dripping from his toned but not overly sculpted body, wet curls framing a rugged yet kind face... but alas no, instead...

 I plonked onto my  weary and aching arse and carefully began untying my dirty, wet laces. Removing my old manky boots I rubbed my throbbing feet. I neatly folded my socks into each boot. I scrunched my toes up and inhaled as the soft warm sand poured between each hot and swollen toe. “Jesus that’s divine.” I had a quick look around to make sure I was indeed alone before peeling my black leggings off and hanging them from the branch behind me. Piece by piece I removed the rest of my clothes. I stood there in my birthday suit and let the ocean breeze cool my face.  I released my hair from its tight ponytail and headed for the water. The water hit my feet with a gentle crash and it was the most perfect temperature. I walked to waist height and turned around to look at the jungle behind me. This was an immense view, wild, natural and very beautiful. It wasn’t polished and perfect like a tropical island postcard, its beauty was rawer and more awesome. I was in a veritable bath of green trees and blue seas - nature’s best.  With a big breath in and eyes closing I dropped straight as a plumb line down under the water.  The tense energy from the hike evaporated around me into the water in an instant and I let the ocean soak it up. Leave it there I thought, in the sea.  I swam and floated in that ocean for what felt like hours, around and around in circles, over and back in straight lines, on my stomach, on my back, on my side, splashing and diving. Not one single other soul stepped foot on that very remote beach for the day. It had been waiting for only me.

 I’ve no idea whether or not life’s path is set out for us in some pre-determined fashion or whether it reveals itself slowly as a result of the millions of often small and sometimes larger decisions we make each moment of each day, year after year. I don’t have the right to know exactly where life is taking me because I don't technically own my life, I cannot control it like I do the remote control. Instead I am life, it courses around my body and keeps me moving forward. That is all I know. I don't know my destiny nor do I want to. 

As I lay on the warm white sand at the edge of the oldest Rainforest in Costa Rica-staring at the blanket of blue above me- I was truly thankful to be alive and so happy that I had chosen that difficult path.

 

 

DATING LAID BARE

 My Single Life

 I have, after much thought (and increased requests from other single women in their 30’s and 40’s) decided to share a small selection of stories from my love life. My stories are very real, the fun, the excitement, the passion, the laughter, the nerves, the hope, the disappointment, the confusion, the soul searching, the rejection, the tears, the loneliness...  gosh- you name it- I’ve felt it. I have no idea why things work out the way they do. They just do. One thing I know I can say with 100% certainty is that the most important relationship I have is the one I have with myself. I have consistently nourished my own soul down through the years, freed my own spirit and supported myself.  So here, in no particular order, is a sample of some of the guys that crossed paths with me. No real names given!

 Let me take you back to the Summer of 2005. First up we have:

( Drum roll, please)

 The Rebound Guy:
Wildly dancing the nights into mornings with this hunky spunky 6 foot 2 inched, tanned and wavy- haired London born backpacker.  Hazy, crazy days spent together on the golden sandy beaches and hillside huts of Thailand. I bumped into this unassuming and handsome stranger one hot summer night in the back of a tuk tuk bombing down the Koh San Road in Bangkok.  In hindsight he was the one that catapulted me into the big world of dating. He taught me so much in so little time. I was a slightly lost Irish girl- just out of a cosy hometown relationship- apologising for everything and seeking reassurance from everyone. “Stop saying sorry babe”, he kindly advised one night under a full moon “Just enjoy yourself” he added through a breathy cloud of Thai whiskey and Marlboro Lights. And so that was exactly what I learned to do.  I stopped playing it so safely and started really enjoying what life had to offer and boy what a time I had! Sadly promises to meet again and continue our holiday romance in Australia never materialised. I sat in a bar overlooking Sydney Harbour six months later waiting for him- but he never showed up. It hurt like hell! But I jogged on without him and had the best 12 months of my life.  

The Australian Trained Sniper Guy:  
This was just a phase. He was bat shit crazy. Moving on.

The Rugby Guy : 
Chasing my dreams (and his rugby balls) around Dublin, London and Italy! An utterly exhilarating man to be around and we had a fairly real connection.  His sensual gravelly voice made big waves in my rebellious heart. His gentlemanly demeanour so different to the racey pacey beast on the TV screen. This dalliance with the professional rugby player with ‘beautiful dark skin and a good heart within’ prompted a good friend to write hilarious odes to him many years later. If only he knew…God how we laughed!  However this particular game was very one sided!  I knew it was wrong to chase this athletic high flyer around but I did it anyway- guilty as charged Your Honor!!! But oh what fun, to be swept away by a true bad boy! He made international sporting headlines, I woke up and made other plans.

 The Jazz Guy:
A true old fashioned encounter. What a gentle and lovely human from a bygone era. Tender, special moments shared side by side at his piano. The tinkle of the ebony and ivory sending shivers down my spine. The best first date I ever did have! A night that saw him rise from our corner table in a music bar and play a solo piece on the sax that brought the house down. As the crowd hushed to listen to his musical magic I looked on in awe and thought “WOW, that guy is my date!” Sadly a case of bad timing brought the curtain down on that one. Bah!

 The Train Guy:
We all know that famous story by now. Choooo choooo…

 The Hippie Dippy Guy :
I fancied this ukulele player (him and his big hair) from afar. Eventually plucked up the courage to ask him out for a coffee. He had a girlfriend so rightly declined my invite for a cuppa but said I’d made an otherwise normal day a bit different and he was flattered by my interest! Good for him. But not for me! How and ever I ended up taking up the ukulele after that –  the most fun hobby I've ever had! Every cloud…. 

The Galway Guy :  
A spectacular first kiss and other very memorable moments that will stay with me for the rest of my life.  A spark that never got a chance to fully catch fire because he just couldn’t (or wouldn’t) put in all that much of an effort. I really liked this archelolgist/photographer/musician/author lad. A particularly hard one to take.

 The French Guy:
On he arrived pedalling his bike with a huge cello attached to the back. I dragged myself out of my  vomiting bug sick bed to meet this messy-haired, smokey- fingered pain in the ass. After a few months huffing and puffing his way around the country he seemed to have a bit of a problem with Irish people. Maybe I caught him on a bad day but he never stopped complaining. Massive turn off!  I promptly paid for my own drink and crawled wearily back into bed! Asshole!

The Fake Guy:
A very scary introduction into the now much normalised world of internet dating.  He told me he was a doctor, an intern studying geriatric psychiatry. Turned out he was a psychiatric patient. Jesus. H. Christ. He went to great lengths to devise a fake profile- it was incredibly convincing. A bizarre day that ended with a surreal phone call to a Garda Station. “Crikey girl, mind yourself” the female garda exclaimed somewhat excitedly in a distinctive Cork lilt “He sounds mad as a box of frogs, like." A lucky escape.

 The Nice Guy :
A thoroughly decent man. Sadly no sexual chemistry whatsoever. An awful shame.

 The Triatolon Guy:
The Comedy King. An absolute gas man that charmed the pants off me with his quick one liners and wise cracks.  At almost 7 years younger than me (gasp) he was not emotionally mature enough but after much time spent alone at this point I needed to just throw caution to the wind!  “You’re mad to kiss me I’d say, are ya?” said he through full cherry lips. “I am" said I giggling like a teenager! I would still go for friendly pints with him at the drop of a hat but  it wouldn't take a genius to work out that he definitely wasn't swimming in the same life lane as me.

 The Artist Guy:
A sweet and talented man. So completely in touch with his emotions and quite erotic in his own way. A wonderful exchange of words and ideas for days on end.  A great conversationalist but quite intellectually intense and all a bit too heavy for me. I said no to a second date and walked away in the driving rain. He didn’t feel it either he said. Fair enough. Back to the drawing board with him- and with me!

The Accountant Guy:

A classic case of great on paper but not in reality.  A very disappointing date that had been much anticipated by us both. It fell flat as a pancake for reasons unknown. The wine and the tapas were the only winners that night. I drank too much too quickly in an attempt to liven things up.  A decision that later had me hiding out in the toilets, planning my escape, and texting....The Galway Guy: Ah well, what’s a girl to do? 

Dating is tough gig!


*deletes Tinder for the 75th time

Aoibhe Anne Golden

Born 30/08/17

 

As you wrapped your slender finger around mine, it was then I knew,

That the love we have for Henry is now the same for you.

Your beautiful face, so familiar yet so new- our hearts beat like butterfly wings,

When we stop to look at you.

Lying in your bassinette, in the corner of the room

Your brother whizzing round your head,

Vroom, Vroom, Vroom!!!

“Quick, look- she’s opening her eyes to investigate the scene-

Oh wait, no, she’s gone again,

Back aboard her dream machine!”

So safe and so loved

We watch this new born child

Knowing that the day may come when she’ll roam far and free and wild.

 

LOVE
EROS, PHILIA and AGAPE

The Ancient Greeks knew about love. 

I've been reading what they had to say. They believed love could be divided into three equal parts.- the clever cats! They thought, as a society, we owe it to ourselves to identify and attach the correct words to each kind, in order to give each type the respect it deserved.

They began with what happens when we first meet someone. They said that this initial phase was called-

EROS: I want you NOW!

This is the physical /sexual attraction high at the start- it’s powerful, exhilarating and quite life affirming according to Aristotle and his white beard friends- I agree! It is biological- you lust and desire to be with your partner- your bodies connect easily and having this new sex can be incredible. You learn and discover each other's bodies. Sadly, this fervent passion doesn’t last- they reckoned after about a year and a half this fades and is replaced by a different type of love. One that involves friendship. But I believe, personally, with some effort and imagination a good sex life can go on for many many years. 

PHILIA: A lover who is your best friend- yes please!

Yes, who doesn’t want to marry (or at least co-habit indefinitely) with their best friend? The one who just kind of ‘gets you’ in a way many others don’t. The one who you would donate a kidney to should they need it. The Greeks maintained that being good friends with your lover,  actually enjoying their company, sharing common interests and being open to new ones, asking questions and being open to new things can sustain a good relationship. You do not have to be 'the same' or indeed have similar life experiences but in order for something to last it is pretty important you show an interest in your lover's world. It may not interst you, but if you love someone you will at least try...

Next up the third and most challenging part of love- 

AGAPE: The willingness to accept the person as a whole

You love them, you even love their flaws and their faults because you know they will try to be a better person every day. They will not take criticism as something personal, but rather as a loving suggestion, to sustain the good and calm vibes for as long as possible. Many people don't set out to start a fight- they just want to express themselves and be heard, so listen up brother! Everyone has their faults and humans are imperfect! Although many humans are just assholes. Don't fall in love with an asshole! AGAPE is the part of love where we are willing to show compassion and sympathy for our partner’s flaws- their jealousy, their arrogance, their complexity, their laziness-  and all those other very difficult and sometimes relationship ending traits. AGAPE doesn’t last forever either but it reminds us that love isn’t about just admiring the good virtues a person displays- it’s about accepting their shitty side too!

So there you have it- LOVE- not for the faint hearted! I guess it all boils down to a few simple things- honesty, communication and respect. Be honest with your heart and be honest with your lover's heart. Communicate calmly and clearly the issues that are causing pain and difficulty. But most of all respect that each human is like a flow of water. They are destined to follow their own natural journey, you cannot redirect people's flow in order for them to fit into your 'ideal'- people will not change and you cannot control them. Hopefully your flow and their flow will gently amble side by side, never disturbing the peaceful path of the other. 

Your soul will guide you, it always knows the way!

(And, if after all that wisdom and honesty, your love life it still doesn’t work out - fuck it-  don't blame me- blame The Ancient Greeks!)

x

These be my thoughts:

1. Be financially independent.

2. Be emotionally healthy. You and you alone are responsible for your inner and deepest fulfilment for the rest of your life.

3. Love and take pleasure from your physical body. Your body is merely an outer case made from flesh and bones. It is the least most interesting part of you.

4. Give

5. Don't tell lies.

6. Try to put others first knowing it's not always easy or possible. Just try.

7. Exercise and move your body everyday.

8. Don’t hold back the tears- let ‘em flow baby!

9.  Eat well

10.      Drink well and be merry

11.                  Music makes everything better.

12.                  Work energetically.

13.                  Regularly bathe in nature.

14.                  Don’t have overly high expectations of others- you’ll only feel let down, rather have high expectations of yourself knowing you’ll disappoint yourself too from time to time.

15.                  Eating a pack of cheese and onion Taytos at any time of the day or night is perfectly acceptable.

16.                  Be prepared to be alone.

17.                  Don't call me princess for god sake - I'm not waiting to be saved by any bloody prince!

18.                  Invest in high quality curtains- they’ll last lifetimes.

19. The universe will reward you for taking risks on its behalf.

20.                  Put good quality lipstick on your lips every day and smile!

21.                  Search for meaning in life- but know you’ll not find any mind bending answers in any one place.

22.                  Laugh as freely and as frequently as is humanly possible.

23.                  Learn how to listen deeply.

24.                  Reflect often on your actions and how they may be affecting you and those around you. I’ve never thought it wrong to overthink our emotions/actions.

25.                  Fight laziness.

26.                  Don’t curse excessively. Find a better word and use that instead.

27.                  Life will make you suffer- this is inevitable.

28.                  Please clip your toenails in the privacy of a bathroom- thanks.

29.                  Be swept off your feet at least once knowing it probably isn’t going to last. Only partake in casual sex if your heart can handle it.

30.                  “Romantic” Love is largely a commercially driven pile of rubbish.

31.               I love pigs.

32.                  Love’s success or lack thereof may well boil down to the little things in the end, the shared workload, the selfless dependability, the give and take of duties and the balance of lovingly putting each other or children first as much as is possible. Love doesn't exist as a thing in its own right I don't think. Its just about giving really, I think. At 80 years old when all the distractions of life are gone and we're not so busy doing what we have always done, stimulating each other’s brains through good conversation, recalling special memories shared together and lifting each other's soul through raucous laughter might be all that is left.

33.                  Ultimately life is a bit of a lottery anyway, some get luckier than others or make more luck for themselves. At least try give yourself a good chance from the off because despite your best efforts things might still not work out. See number 27. Number 27 and number 22 are inextricably linked.

34.                  Materialism is vulgar.

35.                  Travel solo with absolutely no definite idea where you’re going.

36.                  Being a mother is a truly remarkable thing, but know that it is not the sole purpose of life as a female. There are many different levels of sisterhood. None is higher or greater than the other.

37.                  Quality over quantity- pass time in the company of good and real friends, don’t fake it in an effort to avoid being on your own.

38.                Good communication skills are essential.

39.                  In the end what others think of you is none of your business.  This is your life so just be true to it and to yourself.

40.           Now....a pint of Murphy's and a pack of cheese and onion tayto would be lovely- nice one, cheers!

I Complete Me

 “You complete me”, said Tom Cruise to Renée Zellweger as she stood doe- eyed across the room from him in the movie, Jerry Maguire. For many it was one of the stand out warm and fuzzy moments of the movie and for others and I refer to myself here when I say I think Jerry was very wrong.  I disagree with the idea that one single person can “complete” another.  A loved one should surely compliment you and add greatly to your existence, but that little utterance seems to infer that until you meet a life’s partner you are not fully complete as a person in your own right! What the hell is that about?

 

As long as you feel you need to have something be it a person an object or an experience in order to be complete then you are not yet complete. I've learned this the hard way. To be complete means to be thoroughly serene with things JUST as they are, knowing pleasure and pain will come and go and are largely surface phenomena. I feel complete now in my life, I feel in it my soul. There are still things I would still like but truthfully I need for very little anymore- my cup runeth over. This completeness has always been there on some level but as humans we get caught up in stuff..n stuff!

 

I’ve played a lot of different roles over the last nearly 38 years and although they’ve all been very instructive in my growth as a human they were making way for the one role I now feel most comfortable with- me! I’ve come to understand myself by knowing my true self only shows itself in each moment as I'm living it and accepting it. I am who I am in any given moment. We reveal ourselves not by showing the world who we are in a neatly packaged predictable definable box, no, but rather by the revealing of ourselves through honest interactions with others  as they naturally arise. 

 

Ultimately I want to share a lifetime with somebody whose company I actually really enjoy and ideally I'd fancy the pants off him too!  No big promises needed of endless love, marriage and  living happily after- not for me I don't think - just honest and open giving and receiving day in day out and more so during the tough times.  I am acutely aware I may not get all of these things because we don’t always get what we want. I may have to do some of it alone or differently but I do know what I want. Having had all these years to get to know myself, to know wild freedom as I’ve known it, to have known fear, joy, excitement, love, heartache, regret, forgiveness, risk and adventure too,  I have decided that I complete me.  So put that in your pipe and smoke it Jerry Maguire- ya gobshite!