Chapter 1: It gets better

You’re on a boat

Along with 20 people, one of them is a baby.
You are floating at sea in darkness, surrounded by enemies looking for you.
If anyone makes a sound, the enemies might hear and will kill you.
If the baby cries, you can all be dead.

Will you kill the baby?


------------------------

I recently had a reunion with my ex-colleagues from a Beauty Industry Giant.

Though most of us have moved on doing our own thing, one of my colleagues, stayed on to become the global company’s head honcho. Mr. Big Shot.

He hubnubbed with influential people and profess to being the deciding factor in our country’s current President’s election.

Curious, I asked what his take was on the President, a known henchman of the poor.

To which, after giving me the boat analogy, concluded …

“He is the father that this country needs.

He will pull the trigger himself and kill the baby to protect the many.”

He asked me If I’d kill the baby.

“Hell no”, I answered.

“Ah, you’re idealistic. You don’t count.”

And he dismissed me and my opinion from then on.

My knee jerk reaction was to say this:

You don’t kill a fucking baby, you monster!

But someone wise inside me said.

Will this reaction solve it? If not, do not waste your energy.

 

And so, I said:

That is a great analogy. May I use it for my book?

To which he graciously responded:

“Sure! And send me an autographed copy.”

So yes, my inner pussy won. 

Because she is right.

It was pointless at that time to get into an argument.  And if I may quote my favorite drunk, Churchill:

You will not reach your destination if you throw stones at every dog that barks.

------------

In life, it is important to ask the right questions.
The question is not whether to kill the baby or die. 

The real question is :

How the hell did we get here?

How can we, “intelligent” “human” “beings” allow the baby, fruit of our loins, our future...

without shelter

floating on a boat

in darkness

surrounded by enemies,

and its own people ready to kill “it”

if it dared to cry. If it dared to breathe. If it dared to whimper.
If it dared to weep at what we have become.

What have we become?

And knowing what we have become, is there a way out?

---------

Somebody wise once said:

“Either you solve it from the root or you leave it the fuck alone.”

But what is the root? 

Who is to blame? 

Where do we start? 

How do we start?

And so this book.

It will give you answers.

And it knows that you, guided with clarity, will follow your heart, and solve it from the root.

...  

That, or the baby dies.

And by the way, plot twist:

You are the baby.

You are the plot twist.

Author's note:  This is the beginning chapter of my book which is tentatively titled:  

Do the math. A traveller's cheatsheet to life or

Life Roadmap. Cheatsheet by Number

Smelly Pussy

Some of you may have had the good fortune of having a best friend.

That one person that picks on your flaws, calls you on your shit, embarrasses you in public, laughs at your drama, documents your misfortunes but that you know, deep, deep down inside loves you for all your shit.

Well, I have the fortune of coming from a town whose peculiarity is that everyone, from the town doctor to the street drunk, a grandmother to a preschooler- act as if they are your best friend.

They will call on your shit and keep you grounded, make a joke of your misfortunes and in their own weird way make you feel that life isn’t that hard if you don’t take everything too seriously. They are the types of assholes that if you can see the lightheartedness of their assholeness actually toughens and tenderizes you up for school and the school of life.

In fact, our town sport could well be :

“let’s see who can come up with the best insult

and whoever gets affected loses”.

And with generations of practice, nobody loses his shit over insults, over a string of words.


Anyway, we have an event that we look forward to in the month of May which could well be the town’s olympic sport. It is called “Flores de Mayo” and here, the most beautiful women gets to wear over the top gowns and a crown and gets paraded all over town to be admired for their beauty. And as you would expect of our town- be called on their flaws.

So, in one of these parades, we stood waiting and unleashing the best insults for every girl that passes. And mind you, we are all in this fun little town exercise together, so the girls can whip back insults of their own- a beautiful camarederie of tough love give and take.

But then came, the last one. The “Reyna Elena” position assigned to the most beautiful one.

She was flawless. And us, speechless.

Everyone searched for a flaw but failed. No one can come up with nothing in what seemed like an eternity of searching and silence. Till an elderly woman from the back broke the silence and said-

She has a smelly pussy.

So I guess, the moral of this story is this:

We all have flaws.  You can punish yourself needlessly and be in denial of it.

Or you can accept it, laugh about it and use it to connect yourself to a wonderfully flawed world.

That is, of course, if you aren’t blindsided by a smelly pussy.

Corona, The Cure

 

Author's note:  I wrote this when Corona quarantine started.  See for yourself if it aged well.

If there is something I learned from the Corona virus, it is that nothing can keep an Australian from wiping his ass.

So yeah, hey… this must be the zombie apocalypse right?

I mean people hoarding ice cream as if saying, fuck you, if i am going to die, i will die with diabetes.

And what about those passengers mauling a contaminated fellow passenger? Animals or heroes?

And that fat Aussie ready to strike a grandma for toilet paper? ok, ok, i get it. you dont wanna die with a dirty ass. keep the toilet paper. 

We are pretty fucking low right now, im not gonna lie.

AND WORSE, ITS SO FUCKING UNFAIR!

The rich can avoid the crowd, the poor is the crowd

The rich can panic buy. The poor, can only panic. No buy.

The rich can go on leave. The poor, no work, no pay.

This is the real social distancing.*

CORONA VIRUS SUCKS.

 

Or does it.  Really?

The virus is the antidote,

the curse is the cure,

the pain is the pill

You see, because of corona virus, you can:

start the diet and exercise you have been meaning to do,

read the books you always wanted to read,

watch all the netflix you want (or porn, you do you)

play all the videogames you want

practice your art

Or maybe you can do some self care- put on a mask, give yourself a mani pedi, fix your hair, put on a nice dress and dance. And well, just love yourself.

You dont need to go to work or to class. You can spend more time with your family. (or sleep in as long as you want for those assholes who have no kids- that me)

Or if you find yourself with nothing, clinging to your life where all of us are headed, be still. 

Silence the mayhem in your mind and anchor yourself to your immoveable center.  Be still.

And  if ever the internet is cut (because nobody knows anymore) why not walk over to that neighbor or the homeless guy you never speak to?

Make sure you have at least one meter distance (because you are not an idiot) and ask him if there is anything that he wants before the world ends.  And just use that as a premise to get to know his story. 

You see, your neighbor also has a story to tell and mouths to feed. (And also there is no fucking internet fuck it)

So, what I am saying here really is:

The only enemy is ignorance and fear.
The only quarantine is in your head.

#staycation

BUT WHAT IF WE DIE?

Of course we can die. We can all die. I am not that naïve, give me a little credit.

We are all afraid to die. But death is a fact.
We will all die no matter how we try to escape it.
If not by corona virus, by diabetes, heart attack, stroke, suicide, cancer, overdose, murder, a botched boob job or just most likely, from our own stupidity.

We will die. Fact.

And fuck knows when. We are all just deadman walking.

But that fear keeps us from living.
The great irony of life.

FOR FEAR OF DEATH, WE FORGOT TO LIVE.

In fear, we have lost: 

• Our right to land. (rent is bullshit. signed, science.)
• Our right to equality. (high society instead of community)
• Our right to good food. (use of land is decided for the greed of the rich)
• Our right to water. (plastic poison, blech.)
• Our right to education. (learning should always be fun)
• Our right to freedom. (because police)
• Our right to love. (because money)

and now,  our right to air.

Corona virus reminds us of our right to breathe.

Give space for air.

After the bottompless pit of greed,

the fire of hatred,

and the lust of water ….

our ONLY remaining freedom is air.

 

Give space to air.

Let your fear give space to love, free of greed, hatred and lust, and let us truly fall in love with life again.

DO NOT FEAR DEATH.

For an ending always leads to a new beginning.

But while we are here in this feeble life of ours, ignorant of our almighty infinity, live with fear but take in the same dose of faith.

FOR LIFE IS A DARE.

It is fear and faith in the same breath. In the same breath.

Balance fear with faith and you will be alright. We will be alright. We will get the joke that is life.

Life is an asshole. But it is our asshole. And we love our asshole.
But also rise up to the challenge and asshole back. All in good fun.

That is life. An asshole from which all the universe came from.

We are all but cosmic fart. Beaming from our own asshole.
And we all smell funny.

So, the real question is-

You have lived all your life in fear.

Will you also die a coward?

PS

So, instead of wasting energy looking at justice and action fom the government and the 1% who have left ship, why not talk to your neighbor, get your community together (just 1 meter apart)  and start

• working together in your community, so that everyone is fed
• pounding on concrete so the land can breathe again
• turning a blind eye from a homeless man taking shelter in the empty appartment next door
• repurposing plastic factories as a place to share our art
• congregating in churches but this time to share the songs that our hearts have suppressed

so if they ever try to arrest you, (which i know they wont because they already left ship), all you have to do is cough.

Cough as if saying fuck you. I am ready to die for this. I am done being afraid.

Use the corona virus to live and set yourself free.

So…..

when the internet is cut and you are faced with the emptiness of your reality, pamper yourself a little and hear your neighbor out. For he too, has a story to tell, a life lived, dreams unfilfilled and a love lost. Like you.

And see yourself in your neighbor. You know what to do next. Community, not high society. Equality, not snobbery.

PS 2
And as the internet is reconnected, after we have buried those who have lost, looking fit from that enforced diet that we really needed. Say good morning to a new beginning. And reembrace your neighbor with renewed appreciation.

“You are an asshole, but you are my asshole. I love you. But also fuck you.”

Mind Your FAQs

Your first question matters.

In my travels, I frequently meet new people.  

And to my disappointment, the most frequent question I am asked, (even before one introduces him/herself) is this-

Where are you from?

And I say to myself- WTF, Rowena.  They’re just curious.  Why make a big deal out of one stupid question.  Why be such a fucking tight arse?

And yet, no matter how chill I am, no matter how I try to convince myself otherwise, I know deep in my heart that if we want to change for the better, we need to ask better questions.  And this first question we ask a stranger is not a good start.

You see, life is richer with connections.  And I mean meaningful connections, not facebook or instagram likes and comments. 

So in this lonely world of meaningless virtual connectedness and search for approval, and this funny universe where what you need is actually staring at you right now in the face, we need a better approach to connecting with each other. 

We need to be free to be ourselves. Without judgement, fear, envy.

We all take this for granted but we have labeled ourselves our own mental prisons. 

We identify with our job title and social status, that when we lose it, we lose our sense of self worth. 

We label our gender and then take personal offense when anyone calls us by another label

We wear our flag as our identity and rate others as colonies or enemies.

We romanticise our age that when we grow old, as one does, we fall into a lying pile of surgically enhanced shambles

And these labels limit our freedom to just be, a part of one interdependent human race.  We become a divided us vs them – separated by race, age, gender, status, defined by ego rather than self, struggling to justify ourselves.

So, instead of a first question that seeks to separate.  Why not ask a question that seeks to unite.  I have a lot to suggest but start with this first one:

What brings you here?

Because that question seeks to understand a person’s intention. 

And if you dig deep (and please do), even the most seemingly heinous act, you will find that the answer to this question is always love.  It is sometimes a desperate, even twisted act for love in the most desperate of situations – but it is LOVE.  And this love binds us to find ourselves in this very space at this very moment.

So the next time you meet a stranger, please mind your question. 

Do not  divide by asking “Where are you from?”.  Ask instead” What brings you here?” and be united by love rather than divided by fear, anger, superiority or jealousy.

Ask what brings you here and take it from there.   

And let us be united in love.

——-

NB

I have a set of questions that I ask to connect and I post and answer them here.  Read them, answer them and use them in your personal encounters.

What message would you give your 5 year old self.

What is it you wish others do not have to lie about?

What is it you wish that you do not have to lie about?

Of all the senses (hearing, seeing, feeling, smelling, tasting) – which sense do you use/like the most?

Have you ever pity fucked someone? What was your reason?

If you need to sleep with someone from the same and opposite sex to save humanity.  Who would they be?

If you had to give up all vices and just be left with one, what would it be?/ What is your poison of choice?

What would you like to be doing when the world ends?

If you were to give a speech about what you learned in your life, what song would be playing as you walk towards the podium?

If your life were played into a movie, who would play your character?

Do you have other questions that connect?  Share them here and let us answer them together and be connected in love. 

And see?

Life is a hell lot of fun if you ask the right questions.

 

Know Your Limits

I have two sides to myself.

One is the stoner life of the party and one is the designated sober driver.

I used to think that leading a “correct” life means leading the boring ascetic life of the designated driver. Of leaving all the ways of the world, losing one’s excesses, wearing hemp and singing kumbaya and telling people “don’t do drugs”.

I think this artificial sainthood void of authentic laughter with hallow repetitions of 108 “Oms” and 25 “Hail Mary”s  (done both) is no better than unfettered hedonism or military discipline.

And that life of the party, like ego, the insecure self important drama queen, the catty and confused indecisive bitch, inspite of its many faults – can never be accused of being boring. And no matter how we try, the ego is here to stay.

So, instead of being a self righteous goody two shoes, I make friends with my inner bad girl. I acknowledge that it is there and yes, i have great fun with the troubles it gets me into sometimes oftentimes.

But like a wiser and older drunk, I now acknowledge my limit.

If I go beyond 2 puffs of spliff, I aint leaving the house to party.

And 3 times beyond the coughing limit, i will go transcendental.

So yes, I will not ask us ladies to deny ourselves of sic clothes, foodfests or your drug of choice.

But, for the love of drugs,  let us know our limits.

Because at the rate that we have gone, that party ho has put all the kids on a school bus,  set it on fire and is driving it off the cliff. It is time to heed our inner designated sober driver, sit Ms Stoner Partypants down and tell her- 

“bitch- you gotta know your limit”

And this blog will discuss our limit on how we can have fun without setting the bus on fire.

Let’s do this.