All posts by locksley2010

Based in the Midlands, Locksley2010 is now studying the Ovate Grade of the Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids. He is seeking to be a full-time actor, likes cats, honest people and thinks he's hilarious. Do not feed after midnight!

Chasing the Mabon

Big thanks to Teller who asked me ‘So, when are you putting up the blog?’ And a huge thanks to Cthulhudruid who managed to find my original post after it had been accidentally deleted!

Maponus image from Gettyimages

Ah, yes. Autumn! The season of falling leaves, bounties of fruit and vegetation, bird migration and garden spiders coming out to capture unsuspecting prey (shudder). This season also sees the Equinox as the dramatic increase of the dark overtakes the long summer nights. The balance is struck and the wheel turns once again….

Within the usual modern Pagan circles, the Autumnal Equinox has been given a name…. Mabon. Whom or what does this name come from? What the hell is a Mabon anyway?

The short story is that in the 1970’s Aiden Kelly, Wiccan High Priest, came up with the name for the simple fact that he didn’t like that the Autumnal Equinox celebrations didn’t have a grander name. In his own words, please read this.

The long story…..

Mabon is a now shadowy figure, one who once had a cult all of his own stretching from Wales to Lancashire, Northumberland, Cumbria and Scotland. Mabon means ‘Son’ in Welsh and the most familiar version of this is the character of Mabon ap Modron (Son of Mother), from the tale ‘How Culhwch Won Olwen‘.

In the story, the hero Culhwch falls in love with the beautiful Olwen. Which is great, because she loves him too and it turns out that marrying her will lift the curse that was put on him by his jealous step-mother. Problem solved. However, her Dad is Yspaddaden Bencawr, chief giant and realm owning badass. He is so against the idea of the marriage, he sets Culhwch 40 impossible tasks which must be completed. No victory from the young upstart, then no nuptials. Amongst these tasks was one where Culhwch must obtain the comb and shears from behind the ears of the dreaded supernatural boar, Twrch Trwryth. But this could not be done unless he somehow obtained the mardiest dog in the world, Drudwyn. And even then Drudwyn had to be controlled by Mabon ap Modron, a huntsman who must ride the steed Gwyn Dunmane…. and the snag was: “Mabon ap Modron who had been stolen from his home when he was three nights old, and his whereabouts not known…..

Luckily for Culhwch, his uncle Arthur (yes, THAT Arthur) had given him some of his knights as companions who helped accomplish most of the impossible tasks like some adrenaline charged-Redbull fuelled group from Dungeons & Dragons…. but they could not find Mabon ap Modron.

Anywhere.

Like, nowhere.

It was only after Arthur discovering hint about asking the Oldest Animals in the World the heroes stood a chance. So Culhwch’s band sought out the Blackbird of Cilgwri, the Stag of Rhendynfre, the Owl of Cam Cwlwyd, the Eagle of Gwernabwy and the Salmon of Llyn Lliw, to find Mabon’s location: the fortress of Caerloyw. Even then they have to break him out by force. Skipping to the end; Mabon and another hunter, some wild dude called Cynedyr Wyllt manage to corner Twrch Trwryth and grab the comb (Mabon) and shears (Cynedyr) before the Chief of Otherworldly Boars escapes and runs into the sea, prophesying he and Arthur shall fight at the end of the world…… well, a big rumble between them in the far future anyway.

In one version of the ‘Dream of Rhonabwy‘, Mabon is one of the advisors of Arthur, although this could be a confusion with another, Mabon ap Mellt (Son of Lightening) is described as a huntsman also….. This version hints at either this Mabon was as quick as lightening or was descended from some cthonic sky-god.

Interestingly, the character of Mabon was taken up by Roman occupiers in Britannia. Or perhaps, was taken up by Romanised Celts in the form of Maponus ‘Divine Youth’. Coins and inscriptions show Maponus with his dog (Drudwyn?). It appears that Maponus was equated with Apollo, the god of healing and poetry….. and linked with the bow and arrow, tools of the hunt?

What of Modron? Does the mother give any indication as to who Mabon is? She is of the ‘Washer at the ford’ variety of supernatural women, and is daughter to Afallach, one of the lords of Annwn (Welsh Otherworld), specifically, the ruler of Avalon. If true, then she was a magical being and therefore a woman of Sovereignty (The right to choose and the right to rule) and supposedly bore two sons to Urien Rheged, king of Rheged (supposedly a kingdom in Northern England and Southern Scotland). One of these sons, Owein, plays chess with Arthur in the ‘Dream of Rhonabwy‘…. see how these things always go in cycles?

Bizarrely enough, one of the stanzas of the Graves reads: “The grave in the upland of Nanllau; his story no one knows. Mabon the son of Modron the sincere.” So which is it? Is this the grave of Mabon who was in the quest for Olwen’s hand in marriage? Or was he always a mystery and none knew his details? If so, then why was he so popular? Could it be that Mabon ap Modron was in fact the figure of a mystery tradition? Like a Brythonic version Mythras?

The fact that there are remnants and inscriptions to Mabon/Maponus means there was some kind of reverence to him. What this originally was is sadly lost to time, but things have a very strange way of returning. In Modern Druidry, especially in OBOD, where the role of Mabon is given to the youngest member in the ceremony. When Aiden Kelly chose that name, did he do it because it fitted his aesthetic or was there a whisper from a long forgotten heroic huntsman? Also, how the hell did a babe taken away from his mother’s breast of only three nights old learn to become a hunter in the prison of a fort!? Perhaps….. and this is my interpretation…. perhaps Mabon in the story is meant as a metaphor for the adventurous spirit. He is the youthful part of us that dares to do the impossible once he has broken free of the dark prison of our minds. The Mabon hones it’s skills and when is broken free by bravery and need it can go forward and seize the fierce dog of anger to accomplish great things. For when the sun goes down at the Autumnal Equinox does the night get stronger. And as the nights draw in, it is the perfect time to develop our own skills and look inward until we need to release the adventurous spirit within.

Sources:

The Isles of the Many Gods, David Rankine & Sorita D’Este. Avalonia, London, 2007.

The Mabinogion, a new translation by Sioned Davies, Oxford World’s Classics, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 2007.

The Keys to Avalon, the True Location of Arthur’s Kingdom Revealed, Steve Blake & Scott Lloyd, Element Books Limited, Dorset, 2000.

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‘The Last Revolution’

Go and put the kettle on and make yourself a drink….. Locksley’s been offline a few months and now, he’s turned up and written this long post!

How I got involved (aka- ‘Oh boy was I suckered’…..)

BA: Locksley, auditions are next Thursday at…….. School for our new, original community theatre musical ‘The Last Revolution’.

Me: Thanks guys, but I don’t sing so I’ll have to miss this one out. Thanks for letting me know though!

BA: Locksley, what can we say to convince you to join in? We’re running low on men, we’ll even give you a non singing role!

Me: ……. Ok, when is it being performed? I have another project in the Summer that is tbc.

BA: 23rd-25th June.

Me: …….. Ok, I’ll do it. Where’s the audition, again?

Me: (looking around in the audition) Hang on, there’s a lot of men here!…….

Was pretty much how the conversation went via text message with me and Big Adventures, the theatre company I worked with last year on their comedy version of Conan-Doyle’s Hound of the Baskervilles. The conversation took place in January and the production finished three weeks ago.

Acting, I do. Dancing is how I got into the Performing Arts in the first place. Singing? No. Just no. I still remember when in college, my mate, Dwarfer turned around to me during one singing session and said “Sorry, but I’m going to have to move away. You’re putting me off…..” Any confidence at giving singing a go was shattered after that. So I never did. There were the couple (only two come to mind) of times I went on drunken karaoke (is there any other way?), and the one time Pipes told me not to ruin Metallica’s version of ‘Whiskey in the Jar’ the one time I was actually trying…. Thanks guys, fuck you very much. So, I was content with absolutely no singing in my life. Ever. I even mumbled lyrics in the shower.

So imagine my terror when I discovered I had to sing in my audition! Luckily, it was part of a male ensemble, but then we had to sing individual verses……. I hadn’t been that scared for a long time: my heart beat was bursting from my chest, my stomach no longer existed and my legs wanted to collapse underneath me. Oh! And my mouth dried up. And then I started thinking about singing in tune….. How did it go again? What the hell does an ‘E’ sound like (I still can’t tell you)? What about pace and rhythm? And so it came to pass as the piano was played and my turn came up, my lyrics came out as: dhdydjfndiaa!?#+$%#!?@$%$ but hey, I made the acting audition!

We were called the week after and found out what parts we were given, and what did I do once I was given my script? I do what any performer does, skim the pages until I find my bits….. ‘Hang on! There’s lyrics here! And there are a few lyrics I have to deliver all by myself! Shiiiiiiiiiiit!’

Over the next few months we met every week for rehearsal, sometimes twice a week. And as time went on, I learned how to sing. Or hold a note, at least. The Director took care of, well- directing. Whether it was setting the scene, offering feedback or helping everyone with how to deliver lines or try scenes in a certain way (community theatre has a mix of people from different performing backgrounds, some of which had none. There were more than a few for whom this was their first show- everyone did wonderfully!) The musical director made everyone comfortable, often by joking with the cast or about himself. But he was good enough to know if you were struggling and help you get through it by being patient, persistant, firm but fair. They had both created ‘The Last Revolution’ and steered us with patience and enthusiasm.

I learned two things that really helped:

1, As someone new to the singing lark, I found you don’t actively think about keeping the pace, after doing it a few dozen times, it becomes automatic. You still need to keep an ear out for the tune, but it’s not something you can read about on how to do, you have to just do it and find it. So I stopped worrying. I found this easier to do live rather than listen to a recording and sing the lyrics to it.

2, I have a problem with thinking and listening and the same time. You can tell me your most painful secret, but if my concentration wanders, I won’t take a word in. More than a few times, I’d be over thinking a song or so busy acting something and getting involved in that thing (such as background chatter in character) that I’d miss my cues. I found this also applies to everyday life, too. To listen to you, I have to 100% stop what I’m doing and take in everything you say. Because I had to balance this and act as well as listen out for my singing cues, I learned how to do this! The trick is to appear busy and active, but actually am listening out…… Cats do it all the time.

What was the musical about?

The musical itself was based on the real historic event of The Pentrich Uprising of 1817. An event you won’t just find in your everyday history book. The uprising was the last act of rebellion against the Crown and His Majesty’s Government in England. Back then, the Napoleonic wars had just finished leaving the country financially drained. Poor harvests meant crops were lost (due to a volcano sending dust particles into the air and obscuring the sunlight!), the Industrial Age had created machines that replaced manpower and living conditions for the poor were squalid. In short, England was in a dissatisfied place indeed. Various uprisings around the country took place, but the Government got smart. They employed spies to go into places of known dissent, get the local communities fired up and snitch the rebels in. And this is exactly what happened to the revolutionaries of Pentrich. A government informer, under the alias of ‘William Oliver’ was sent into Derbyshire to find traces of rebellion, which he did. He also became involved with the local rebels and urged their leader, Jeremiah Brandreth to press on under the belief that various towns and cities were joining in and all ready to storm Westminster….. All they needed was the right man to start it all off. The men of Pentrich, Wingfield, all other surrounding areas (apologies to any readers from Derby, I’m not a local lad) came together on the very early hours of the 9th of June and began their course to Nottingham. It was at Nottingham they were told they would be met with other revolutionary groups from The North, they would receive ale, meat and money then march all the way down to London. It was raining heavily as they went from village, to village, pressing men into service along the way, taking weapons and dealing with deserters. One young man was murdered, being shot dead and before the men even reached Nottingham, a whole military force was waiting for them…… William Oliver had done his job well. In November that year, Jeremiah Brandreth and the other ringleaders, Isaac Ludlum- the Elder, William Turner were hanged by the neck until dead and beheaded for treason against the Crown. It was this event that lead to the formation of workers unions that are in this country today.

Interestingly, one other man was tried at the same time. George Weightman was sentenced to live out the rest of his days in the colonies of Australia….

What amazed me about the Uprising was the passion for it today from both the people of the areas involved and the descendants of those revolutionaries who were sentenced to Australia. There are societies in both countries taking great pride in their families involvement, as well as trying to piece together everything that happened. It turns out that the Government had kept this part of our history quiet, the only information released around the time were the newspapers, but the Uprising was brushed under to be forgotten. The families of those involved kept quiet so they could keep their homes and jobs, after all the excitement and failure what else could be done? Very soon, The Pentrich and South Wingfield Revolutionary Group will be granted access to the archives of the Duke of Devonshire. Perhaps more information of what happened will be revealed?

Photo by Mick Bishop

The Real William Turner

I had the pleasure of playing William Turner, a stone mason and ex-soldier. He was 46 years old when he was involved in the Uprising, ten years my senior! He was described as tall, but there are no other indications as to what he looked like. Neither were there any portraits. He was survived by his parents, siblings and his nieces and nephews, having no children of his own. The house he built for his parents still stands today! In the case files, he was described by witnesses as being keen for the march to proceed and knew of every weapon in his home village of Wingfield. He was one of the men who helped organise the Uprising and even led part of the force that made its way toward Nottingham (but never reached it due to the militia waiting for them). During his trial, Turner seemed to give in to the resignation of the fate that beheld him, he sobbed as he was charged ‘guilty’. In his last days, he was keen to show repentance before God and hoped to be spared….. That hope was dashed once he was sentenced to be hanged and beheaded for treason against the King. After days of despair, he put on a brave face for his family and prayed for forgiveness from God. Asking about the state of Jeremiah Brandreth, both he and Isaac Ludlum were distraught that Brandreth did not seek the repentance they wanted so much. Before his death, Turner cried out this was all the fault of the Government and William Oliver. Which, of course, they disapproved.

I played him as a frustrated individual who had come back from war to find there was no reward for those who returned, the countries money was tight, meaning the wages were considerably less than promised and once back home it was ‘Wham-bam-thank-you-very-much-now-off-you-pop‘. My version of William Turner was waiting for a chance to lash out at those who treated him and others as disposable, and was bitter until the end.

William Turner, ‘Last Revolution’ 2017.

The real William Turner was, as mentioned, a former soldier. I can’t say why he wanted to revolt. Perhaps he saw something when he was at war? perhaps he was disgusted at the state of his country with the rich and poor divide? Perhaps he wanted to fight so his family could live without starving? Or maybe he just got caught up in the zealous energy of the idea of rebelling against the authorities. Whatever his reasons, Turner felt strong enough to make a stand to try and make the world better in some way. I was told by a cast member that one of his distant relations would be coming to see the show. I don’t know if they did or not, but I hope I portrayed their fated ancestor with the respect he deserved.

‘The Last Revolution’ is a proud moment in my life, I made some discoveries about myself and made many friends during the production. I did something I’d never thought I would and pushed myself out of the comfort zone. I also learned a piece of English history that seems to have been glossed over, when it was actually quite notable, even if it was ill-fated. The common people turning around and saying ‘No!’

It was an honour to be involved, an honour to perform and an honour to the memory of those who wanted “…. freedom and fairness for all!

When the flame burns out….

Hey, it’s been a while.  

Following one’s dreams was never going to be easy.  As I’m sure I’ve mentioned before many moons ago that when I reconnected with the element of fire, I discovered my Bardic Self as being an actor.  (Actually, count that as rediscovered, because we often know the answers we are looking for, we just seek the validation.  And it turned out that even though I knew the answer, I was denying myself and was unhappy because of such). 

I’ve been quiet on WordPress because my attentions have been elsewhere, my energies have been spent and I burned myself out.  The way I’ve been living my life, it was only a matter of time.  I’ve been non-stop for a year and my body can’t cope anymore.  Even my spirit is flagging, and that I know, is not a good thing. 

The problem is, I’ve taken too much on.  Last year I did two plays back to back, I finished one play one week, I finished the second the week after. 

 Then 6 weeks later did another show.  This year, I’ve been rehearsing two more performances at the same and this is whilst doing my full time day job too.  So my body stopped.  I developed an infection on my face that had taken 3-4 weeks of antibiotics, as well as two sets of cold sores, all of which are now gone.  

 This weekend just gone saw the performance of my first musical.  I’d had the good sense to take the week off and a couple of days after too.  I’m so glad I did!  “Ooh, a week off!” Says I.  ” Time to get back exercising during the mornings and then off to rehearsals and shows in the evenings!” I told myself.  My body had other ways of telling me this wasn’t going to happen….

It needed more than 8 hours sleep just to feel rested, then when I went running, it decided my knees and ankles were going to be 90 years old, that and even though I had sleep, I felt I had no energy.  Even lifting my weights felt a chore, so I got the idea: I stopped. 

Me and Artemis have discussed many times about the amount of things I do.  I don’t do time off well, I feel like nothing is being done or accomplished.  Also, when we do talk about it, I’m always like “I’m almost there, then I can rest…..” It’s sort of my mantra.  It wasn’t until I was in conversation with Devi (she’s my 20 seconds of insane courage and I haven’t scared her away yet) and she asked if I was feeling run down, I realised I was.  Pointing out that she didn’t want to sound like my mother, Devi expressed her concern I was taking on too much and recommended I take some serious time off for just me.  No working to schedules , no tasking, no box ticking when not working.  Oh, and to go and spend my time out doors.  And she’s absolutely right! 

I haven’t done this yet, last week was all about the musical I was doing, but I did get a full night’s sleep every night.  When I wasn’t rehearsing or performing, I rested and if it’s one thing I learned, it’s that I need to stop.  

Stop acting? No, stop taking on so many projects that I end up knackering myself out.  I need to focus my energy so when I do have a project, I can concentrate on that one project only.  And when I don’t have a project, not to think of it as not doing anything- take the time I need to recuperate. 

What good is it to keep the flame going if I can’t even keep the embers alight? And what’s the point of pursuing my acting if I’ve spread myself too thin? 

What are the gods? 

I was getting a lift home from rehearsal when my friend started asking about my beliefs.  He, himself is an atheist, but he showed a genuine curiosity in what I believed to be going on in the universe.

I have touched on this subject before, here

Obviously, I did not mention or bring up any of that.  That would have been way too much! 

Instead, I launched into a monologue of my latest hypothesis of the gods I believe in and what they are.  It went something like this: 

If we go with the idea that all there is through the universe is the Life Force.  And by that I mean the spark of life that is within you, is connected to the Life Force in all things: it is connected to the Life Force in others, in animals, the sea, plants, the wind, the rain, the Sun.  This Life Force permeates everything, it’s why some people can feel or even see the auras of other people and things.  It is the thing where our Life Force goes to when we die and is the reason why some people can claim to speak with the dead as their spark joins the pool, allowing echoes to be heard and remembered. 

You get the idea, right? 

So, what if….. What if this Life Force had a sentience to it? And it communicated with us, and these communications became manifest into beings our ancestors interpreted and called gods, or spirits even? 

In effect, the gods are the avatar of the Life Force. 

Of course, when talking about all this to someone who had already stated he was an atheist, he told me “The problem with anyone who believes in something, is that you’ll never convince me it is real.” 

And he’s right.  I can’t convince anyone of what I experience or believe to be true. Our experience is entirely subjective.  My beliefs are a mish-mash of what I have learned, experienced, encountered and found not to be true.  Yes, I resonate with the gods of a people whose culture has now gone.  I have had conversations in visualisation meditations with beings who claim to be these ‘gods’.  Are they in fact distant ancestors? a manifestation of the Life Force that uses images and names I would understand? A projection of my inner voice that I unconsciously make into a character (a bit like what happens when we dream, except this time I am more lucid)? 

What would make such encounters more interesting, is for one of these to appear and give you their name as one you don’t recognise.  Or better yet, a familiar deity comes forward and disagrees with you.  Saying why something won’t work or how something else is a bad idea.  Or even how some idea about them is wrong: although be sure to write notes upon coming to and do some research to back that one up! 

Question: How come all gods are not the same? 

Conjecture: Because they are relevant to the people they belong to. 

 I know these things, these conversations (revelations of insight?) , these beings are real in my perspective.  It’s like when I see balls of light at the Grove Hearth:  I physically see them with my own two eyes, even point out when they are there, but no one else does.  Except for one other.  Do I know what those balls of light are? No.  Can I show a team of scientists one of our ceremonies in the Grove and point out when the balls of light arrive? No, they don’t appear every time.

And so it is with gods, spirits, entities et al I can’t convince other people these things exist just because I encountered something.

And as I was explaining the Life Force hypothesis to my friend, I actually realised how ridiculous this sounds to someone who doesn’t believe.  You’ve got to admit, it does sound crazy.  Any of it, all of it! And people go to war over this?  People murder each other because they disagree? 

Thankfully there was no war in my friend’s car, we ended the chat on pleasant terms and I finished it by saying: 

“You’re right, I can’t convince you of what I believe.  My beliefs are my own.  But if I was to say if you were to believe in something, believe in you.” 

Image from independent.ie

“Twenty seconds of insane courage”

Back in 2015 I wrote this piece on exploring the concept of courage and bravery in a culture of fear.  It was strange reading it as I was becoming a different person back then.  I’ve grown since and become a lot more sure of myself.

I had taken the title quote so inspirational that it has actually become part of my being.  Back in that year, I was so sick of being scared that I leapt at every chance I was presented with, sometimes the courage paid off, other times…. I hurt people.  

Courage alone is of no use unless it is reflexive to do something in that moment.  Where there and then you can make a difference.  Courage sprung from lying to yourself and impatience is stupid; it ends up with other people being hurt and you being a dick! 

However, courage born from something to make a difference or to put right a situation where inaction and silence will lead to something worse is worth those twenty seconds of crazy! 

Very recently, I dared to ask a complete stranger out for a date. 

I was looking at a food menu through the glass window of a sandwich shop when, in my peripheral vision, a customer walked in then a few moments later stuck her head out of the door telling me to “Come in, it’s lovely!” Invitation by a cute blonde wearing hipster glasses? How could I resist? So I went in and placed my order.  Blonde Hipster Girl turned around and flashed me a smile (she was very cute) and I started conversation by asking if this was her regular place to go.  She told me she used to come here all the time until she got fat.  She wasn’t fat at all, curvy, sure- I love curves on a woman! And so I laughed along with her, thanked her for her advice, collected my order (hers was taking longer to prepare) and went for the bus to get me to work.  It wasn’t until I reached the bus stop and was halfway through eating my sandwich I thought to myself: “You idiot! You should have said ‘Fat? No way, you’re as cute as hell and I want to ask you out for dinner.’  So I kicked myself over that Friday morning encounter as a missed opportunity. 

Over the weekend, I made a plan. 

On Monday I went back. 

With a letter in an envelope labelled “To The Cute Blonde With Glasses.” In it, I explained that I was thankful for her giving me the push to go into the shop, that I wanted to ask her out for a date and that her next meal at the shop was on me (I paid for it in advance) and signed it with my name and mobile number.  This I passed on to the ladies behind the counter.  Job done, and like a spell once cast….. I let it be.  It’ll either work or it won’t. 

She replied the next day! 

Through the medium of Whatsapp, I received a message from the ‘Cute Blonde With Glasses’ kindly explaining she had just started seeing someone.  She also told me the letter was cute and that things like this only ever happened in movies, and I should keep doing what I do as it made her year.  Oh, and that she gave the money back for the lunch I bought her as she felt guilty. 

And you know what?  I was fine with that.  Totally and truly.  It wasn’t the outcome I was hoping, but I knew it would be one of the few that came to mind.  I’m still glad I took the chance and feel the better for it.  What happens now?  Simple, I let it go and should I come across another opportunity, you can be damn sure I’ll give in to those crazy 20 seconds.  It all comes down to the fact if you don’t ask, you don’t know.  Would I rather have left it and wondered what would have happened if I never did something about it?  I’ve wasted far too much of my life making that mistake.

Go out there step out of your comfort zone and do something amazing and even if it doesn’t work out, you’ll feel great for daring to take a shot! 

Image from pinterest.com

Love yourself!

I’ve deleted drafts of posts that never saw the light of the internet day, but never have I deleted an actual post…. Especially the morning after a night of drinking with friends and finding I wrote an entire post whilst being drunk! 

I had even given it the phrase “Will regret this in the morning.”  Boy, was I right. I was not proud of it at all, embarrassed would be more accurate.

It wasn’t an insightful piece, it was one of those drunken rants you get that only makes sense when you are surrounded by other drunks ranting in a similar fashion.

Basically, a friend of mine told me I was ‘distrustful of women’ and the whole flavour of the post was about how this was THE TRUTH and went on about broken hearts, gathering pieces of that heart and other self wallowing crap my inebriated mind came up with.  To my credit, I built my self up in the post and argued my case about how actually awesome and amazing I am. 

One reader even commented in prose about how we all get knocked, so let’s get up and have fun.  Thanks LittleWolf! And yes, my head was sore! And guess what, I don’t distrust women at all.  

So, this got me thinking: 

We punish ourselves a lot, don’t we?  At least, I do anyway.  We are quick to saying how we can’t do this, that or the other.  How easy is it for us to rail against the world instead of doing something about it? 

Yes, we do get knocked, yes, bad things happen, yes we get our hearts broken.  But if we let these things consume us, we become bitter, angry and resentful.  I don’t know about you, but I think life is too short for that shit.  However, it is long enough for us to enjoy, to share and to love, whatever the form takes. 

When you are next feeling down, or in a situation where you feel powerless, I have some suggestions which may help: 

  1. As Xena Warrior Princess once said: Act don’t react. 
  2. If you are in a situation that gets you down, what can you do to change it? 
  3. Remember all your victories, however grand or small, you’ve come this far.
  4. Learn from your mistakes and use them to bring out more of your best self. 
  5. Accept responsibility for your actions, you make and made your choices, own them, don’t let them own you!*
  6. Love yourself, do something just for you, you do indeed deserve it. 
  7. Keep being awesome. 
  8. Trust your gut, if it feels bad, stay the hell away. 
  9. Use the powers of “Yes” and “No” respectively. 
  10. See number 7.  Always number 7. 
  11. Don’t lose your cool.  Don’t let those assholes let you lose your shit.

    And my new lesson:  when drunk stay AWAY from using your WordPress account! 

    *And yet, by deleting the drunken post I am contradicting this with the suggestion of number 2…… Not sure how I feel about that.