Seek, see, love and do

A beautiful friend of mine found the following on Facebook and linked me to it… I think she could tell how fully I can relate, and I love her all the more for knowing my soul inside out:

I would rather pass my days lying in the middle of dirt roads, staring at the full moon with a bottle of summer red in my palms.

I would rather have kids when it suits me, not when society expects or throws shoulds.

I would rather live in a hammock on a beach for six months, and write like my soul means it.

I would rather be horribly broke at times, than married to a job because a mortgage payment has my ass on a hook.

I would rather own moments, than investments.

I would rather swim naked with bio-luminescence, have it fall like fireflies from my hair, my breasts, my back.

I would rather do handstands naked in the moonlight when no one’s watching than pick bridesmaid dresses.

I would rather drink seven year old rum from a sandy bottle, smell of smoke and ash than sit in church.

I would rather learn from life than rack up debt, in a desk.

I would rather drink the ocean, again and again—celebrate being madly alive.

I would rather my love be defined by love itself, and nothing more or less.

I would rather take the chicken bus, than spend useless money in safe gated communities. Sit beside a goat, listen to raggaeton and eat green mango with sugar in a plastic bag sold from the woman who harasses the bus each time it stops.

I do not need a degree to prove that I am intelligent.

I do not need to own a piece of earth with some wood on top of it—to feel successful. No one truly owns the land, anyway—we just think we do.

I will take a job I love and freedom over a pension, any day.

I will not work and work and work to live when my body is old and I am tired.

Stocks are for people who get boners from money.

Not everyone should have kids, and my eggs aren’t expiring.

I will not drink the societal Kool-Aid on a bus, nor will I drink it on a train.

Not on a plane, with a goat, in the rain, in the dark, in a tree, with a fox, in a box!

I will not jump through societies’ hoops and red tape, the treasure hunt in the rat race we chase.

If we must have milestones—mine will be measured by how much joy I have collected at the end of each day and how often in this life I have truly, deeply, opened.

Seek, see, love, do.

– Janne Robinson, Author

More on Janne here: https://www.facebook.com/jannerobinsonauthor/ and here: http://www.jannerobinson.com/

What an inspiring woman! 🙂 Thanks Janne!

DNA journeys – and how we are all connected

On the subject of “we are one“, this video clip made me well up – we really are all immigrants, and there is no better way to prove it than through DNA test analysis.

Please take a moment to appreciate this truly beautiful insight into human DNA and migration across our little planet called Earth.

When Strangers Meet

#onelove #peace #weareone

Inspirational women: Mary “Mother” Jones, 1830-1930

I saw one quote from Mary “Mother” Jones, and I had to read more on this amazing woman, especially as I feel that I can relate very much to the quote:

“I am an organizer, an agitator and an aggravator. I act because I love humanity.”

Mary Harris “Mother” Jones, 1905

Some of her other quotes are pretty damn motivating as well, and you can see how she could have riled up the authorities with her opinions and “fight not flight” attitude to life:

http://www.motherjonesmuseum.org/information/quotes/

For more info on Mary “Mother” Jones:

http://www.biography.com/people/mother-jones-9357488#synopsis

http://www.motherjonesmuseum.org/

It is wonderful to know that there are so many inspiring ladies in history – it just takes one a bit longer to find them, as they are not celebrated quite so much as men.

After all, it is said that, “History is written by the victors” – and men have been the “victors” for a couple thousand years now.

I believe it’s time to give men a break, let them take a back seat, and put their legs up – learn to meditate and understand that they do not need to be aggressive or preempt aggression with aggression.

#wishfulthinking

Note: I am completely aware that not all men are of the same ilk, or women for that matter… I am making a generalisation based on the majority of incidents throughout history.

Enjoying a winter wonderland

Where have I been the last couple of months?

Well, I am not going to kid myself and say that there has been anyone who reads this blog who has actually thought that, but I’d like to stroke my own ego for a moment…

I have actually been all over the place, and really didn’t get a moment to update my blog at all, so thought I would show you a photo, portraying how wonderful one of the experiences was:

20170117_142411
#nofilter #noedit

 

Unless you have been husky mushing, you have no idea of the beautiful calm that descends upon you as you ride in silence, icy winds trying to find cracks in your clothes, and the jingle of the harnesses as you are swept along a frozen lake covered in crisp, clean snow.

Breathtaking. Beautiful. Awe-inspiring. Meditative. Majestic.

A few words that ran through my head on the back of that sled, though in reality, all I could think of was… nothing.

I can’t tell you how at peace I felt. It was like being at the top of a mountain, with no one around, and all you can hear is the sound of silence, the wind gently racing past your ears.

I am blessed. Thank you Sweden for remaining a wilderness in this never ending globalisation of our wee planet. Thank you, Mother Earth – thank you, so much.

#love #light #laughter #peace

 

Home…?!

Home…?!

Home. Funny word that.

Home is where my parents are. Or the hotel in whichever country I am travelling around. Or my bedroom in my flat share. Or my sisters’ flats, when they cook me good food. Or my friends’ homes, when I stay overnight.

I have always felt like I am still searching for home too. I am fluid, life flows, and so adapting to circumstances is in my blood. As you may already know from previous posts, my family has migrated from Middle Asia across to Europe, and back to the Far East, while others born all over the Middle East have travelled to Europe and the West. So, yes, to me, home is, in essence, this world, and wherever I lay my head each night.

I only mention this ability to adapt to circumstances because I know that there are many people out there who consider change a “bad thing”. People I work ‘with’ (ahem, work for…), or drink with… those whose families date back centuries, all of whom were born, lived, and died in one place, their little part of the world. Those who were “freed” when the Berlin Wall went down, but who harked back to the time when communism gave them a structure they could understand.

People are habitual. A lot of us will dig our feet in, trying to avoid those changes. I have done it too – in a spiritual sense; but that’s a different story I won’t tangent on right now.

So this afternoon, when I stepped off the plane and caught the bus back to the street on which I live currently, I was staring out the window at the beautiful autumnal colours of the cherry, oak, sycamore, birch and maple trees, and sighed to myself dreamily, “It’s good to be home.”

My next thought followed quickly: “It won’t be home for long.”

Changes are a’brewing. Winds will blow me to Northern Europe, in search of another home to bed down in, to get to know.

I know though, that wherever I am, I will always be searching for ‘home’.

Because home isn’t a place. Or people. It’s a person.

Despite all my cynicism, I am not ashamed to admit…

I still believe in love, and most especially, in companionship…

In wanting to spend time with someone who inspires, motivates, encourages, honours and respects you; someone who is attracted to you because you are emotionally, socially and financially independent, rather than someone who is needy, or simply a trophy.

Small edit to the paragraph above, 06 Nov 2016:

The same can also be said for true friends – for those are the ones who stick by you through thick and thin, see you at your worst and pull you out of that darkness; those who believe in you and your ability to help them, to hold them up also, and be there when they need you, just as much as they will always tell you the truth of any subject – “yes, [my] ass does look big in that dress, but that’s the point, isn’t it chicka?”

All of this is what a true companion is as well, except you get a bit more touchy-feely-ness from them; the cuddles in the early hours of the morning, and when you reach over in bed during the night, searching for that warm skin beneath your fingers. That is a much more intimate companionship, but just as acceptable on all levels.

This evening, I would like to raise a glass to all those strong, independent people out there, who are also searching for their own ‘home’, whether it’s a place, a person, or simply a state of mind.

Peace. Love.

Jojo xx

Image: Sunset over Luxembourg, November 2016

Written and photographic content is ©

All rights are reserved. November 2016.

Passed my Level 2 Assessment!!


Thanks to Tom (centre) and Bert (right), for being really amazing chaps, and doing the Survival School Level 2 Assessment – and passing it – with me!

What a weekend… thanks to Graham and Dave, Instructors at Survival School – your patience and guidance were greatly appreciated throughout the weekend.

I can’t wait to get the grit out from under my fingernails, scrub myself clean, and cook myself some warm food… oh wait, I can’t do the last – I’m off to Madeira tomorrow lunchtime! Diving, hopefully, if not too cold?!

Keep you posted…

Jojo – solo wanderer, adventurer, solivagant xx

Left to right: Bert & Tom on fire bow & drill; Dave & Graham in uniform, looking on – instructing! 

 

Written and photographic content is ©

All rights are reserved. October 2016.

​I love those moments…

​I love those moments…

 

I drive along country roads in autumn;

warm,

vibrant,

coloured leaves fall from the trees,

dancing,

twirling around the top of the car in front,

and swirling in a mini hurricane that I drive through unseen.

 

Waking up on a Saturday morning in my own bed,

not hungover,

and realising I don’t have to work till Monday –

I eat, toilet and crawl back into my dreams.

 

I watch the sun set over the city from a bedroom window,

shafts of piercing sunlight,

highlight,

the miniature tornadoes of bugs,

hovering yet circling,

from the heights of the buildings down to the street –

formerly invisible, discreet.

 

The awkward moment when I have to put on a show,

that everyone believes is truth,

but that I know,

is just another face of my many;

and the butterflies keep whirling,

the excitement,

the adrenaline.

 

The look on a baby’s face when it’s all scrunched up from crying,

and how it changes bit by bit,

from the chin up,

when you make that little face smile again.

 

Breathing in the scent of a man,

as I lean into him,

my arms entwined

around his strong forearm,

surrounded by the masses,

as we stroll through the drizzly,

vibrant night streets of London.

 

Listening to music while on a journey,

loudly,

and hearing the full song to the end when I’ve already switched off the engine,

some time ago.

 

Reading a book that makes me laugh,

or cry,

or get angry,

or any of the aforementioned combination;

or simply enlightens me,

helps me escape to worlds of wonder,

and detachment.

 

Walking out of an office building in winter,

it’s already dark –

but taking comfort when I look up,

and see a blanket

of stars,

pinpricks in thick dark blue velvet.

 

Waiting to catch a bus or a train,

in the early morning hours,

when it’s frosty out –

I’m all wrapped up warm,

cosey hat and scarf up to my bottom lip,

I see my breath come out in playful swirls,

then dissipate.

 

Going for a walk on a crisp winter morning,

just as the sun is rising,

its rays strike the stark empty branches of a tree,

dividing through them,

to bounce off the sparkling dew-crystallised grass below,

on the other side.

 

The sound of waves as they lap gently

against a moon-drenched shore,

the wind a veritable friend

chasing the waves

cooling the heat of my skin

as I sit there silently,

watching,

listening.

 

Springtime in a forest,

the sounds of the birds,

the light of the sun streaming through the tree tops

the baby green of the plant life

erupting all around you.

 

Laughing,

laughing a lot

and even at the wrong moments –

but it’s good for my soul

and those around me,

so why stop being a wee bit silly?

 

I love these moments… and so many more.

 

 

Written and photographic content is ©

All rights are reserved. October 2016.