Head Up, Back Straight, Stand Tall
June month gone has called for a review of where I stand today. It’s been a frustrating month to keep the momentum rolling at a forward pace, but I keep being nudged from that Unknown Force to remind me that I stand tall, at least 5ft 7, an inch taller than last year, and two inches taller than my actual physical height of 5ft 5.
That Unknown Force picked me up from rock bottom and kept me trooping through my Spiritual Emergency, a turbulent conscious awakening that throws all kind of mental problems at you, as you transform into a more wholesome being, one who has a deeper connection with other people, nature and the universe.
It’s a sense of something directing you, above your own sixth sense or intuition, whether a voice, a vision, a presence, I can’t be sure. That’s why it’s easier to think of IT as Yoda, just to add some humour to the nuttiness of it all.
I’ll keep apologising to those who have read this before, but to give first time readers some context, I’d lost my father, relationship and freelance contracts to the recession, all within a 100 days, which triggered my crisis back in 2008.
So as I was saying, I stand 5ft 7 inches tall to date, despite the fact that the month has seen me walking crab sideways with wind forces attempting to stumble me backwards on the dating and filmmaking front.
A promising director just dropped out from our refugee short film with a twist. She’d had her previous work screened at BFI Flare, London LGBT film festival and her attitude and integrity seemed in line with our own team’s mission. In the end, she didn’t believe we could pull off the project and achieve her vision on a no-budget, whereas I did, my team did.
We haven’t reached that place where we can afford to pay others yet, and try to recruit high calibre professionals who have passion for the project as much as we do. The rest we beg, borrow and steal as the saying goes – in terms of props, costumes and kit etc. We did it twice with our two previous projects and I’m pretty sure we’ll do it again, improving on every production we touch. They’re currently in post-production and I look forward to sharing them out in the public domain soon.
Momentary panic upon receiving her sorry going to pull out e-mail, was replaced with a sense of calm. Divine timing swarmed my senses ensuring me that all will turn out well, there’s no need to rush.
Until the fat lady sings, until the horse is knackered, until I’m pooped and the brain cells are fried, I’ll keep trooping onwards, stepping the stones towards making films which reach the masses, including realising my three work in progress screenplays. The latter the BIG dream.
To think I was reduced to 3ft tall, what was a tough battle with the dark moon within me, the ogre-self who grew to 6ft 10, the esteem crasher, the diabolical destroyer who reared her ugly head when my earth shattered back then.
Even now I feel a pang within me of how much she tried to steer me off course and give up on the BIG dream. Can’t. Shan’t. Won’t. No way. Never. Who do you think you are? Quit now. But I kept at it and now I’ve crossed the Rubicon that only allows for the one-way sign.
As for Mr Who? the evasive luurve of my life who’s playing the superhero Mr Invisible with me, well he’s still playing Mr Invisible with me. Dating has been a dud, but at least my social and family life has been shining.
I’m being nudged to remember that I flushed rejection out into a dark hole, just as I said I would in my March News of the Moment -Take the Damn Olive Branch Will Ya?
The tables have turned with the few interactions I have had, although I’m not shouting it proud, as it’s just not nice to be on the receiving end of rejection, knowing it too well on many an occasion in the past when my self-love was low (June 2015 is when the self-love began to grow). I won’t delve into the details out of respect for the Mr Not You’s.
The other gust of wind that has tried to stumble me back is a recent dream I had of Mr Back Then. He’s back. My estranged ex, if you missed it from before. I’ve had it several times over the years. He arrives at my doorstep curious about how I am, but doesn’t say much, just peers into my world, as I go about my daily life.
Old feelings touch the surface, but then I remember how unhappy I was, how unhappy he was. The rest is private, but as I shared before, if you can’t love yourself, which we both couldn’t, how could you possibly love another the way one should be loved?
As before, I keep pushing him out to the sea, but he rolls back – not only in the odd dream, but as a vision or through my now little ogre-self. She’s been shrunk to a stumpy 2ft 2 but still won’t take the olive branch I present to her in my head. I’ve been trying to make my peace with her, but she’s as stubborn as an ox and refuses to – not until I resolve something, or who knows what to do with Mr Back Then is all I get from her.
I’ve just accepted it and put it down to a karmic thing, one that seems out of my control, despite all the attempts I’ve made to shut that door, cut that chord, you name it. I even contacted him a couple of times, with no response, to put an end to it all…
…ah well, at least I no longer feel crap about him not responding. What is in my control is how I move forward in the NOW moment. Only my presence in the present counts.
So June, here’s my final words, you’ve been making me walk crab sideways, side-stepping a few Mr Not You’s and trying to knock me off balance with the film project and Mr Back Then, but I’m not having any of it. I WILL find a great director for our refugee film with a twist, and Mr Who? will show up when he’s going to show up. Mr Back Then I push you back out to the sea again.
Lastly, gratitude to the Unknown Force. I am stood tall…when do I grow to 5ft 8?