Ravi Shankar

Indian virtuoso musician Ravi Shankar - the man who introduced The Beatles to the sitar and father to singer Norah Jones - has died aged 92   Labeled 'the godfather of world music' by George Harrison, Shankar helped millions of classical, jazz and rock lovers discover the centuries-old traditions of Indian music His close relationship with Harrison, the Beatles lead guitarist, shot Shankar to global stardom in the 1960s Later generations knew him as the estranged father of popular American singer Norah Jones Died: Ravi Shankar, 92, performs during a concert in Bangalore, India Ravi Shankar, the sitar virtuoso who became a hippie musical icon of the 1960s after hobnobbing with the Beatles and who introduced traditional Indian ragas to Western audiences over an eight-decade career, has died. A statement on the musician's website said he died in San Diego, near his Southern California home. The musician's foundation issued a statement saying that he had suffered upper respiratory and heart problems and had undergone heart-valve replacement surgery last week. The prime minister of India, Dr. Manmohan Singh's office confirmed his death and called him a 'national treasure.' Labeled 'the godfather of world music' by George Harrison, Shankar helped millions of classical, jazz and rock lovers discover the centuries-old traditions of Indian music. He also pioneered the concept of the rock benefit with the 1971 Concert For Bangladesh. To later generations, he was known as the estranged father of popular American singer Norah Jones. As early as the 1950s, Shankar began collaborating with and teaching some of the greats of Western music, including violinist Yehudi Menuhin and jazz saxophonist John Coltrane.  Published by Jane Nye- Daily Mail

Empty Words

There is something in the human dialect that has become common. Our common reaction in most cases when supporting someone through loss, is opting for easy words which build greater distance. We easily and immediately communicate customery words such as 'be strong,''sorry' or 'may they rest in peace'. My friends mother passed away today, and there came pouring the sequence of familiar words. It is not only through my own experience of losing close relatives and a parent that I began to realise these words had absolutely no meaning and were just empty words. I was disconnected from especially words like 'be strong'. These words for me represent an easy way for the other to not take ownership in seeing the bereaved through a difficult process. Then there is the other counter to it, that these words have become so easy to say and are part of cultural traditions. The last thing, I want to hear is be strong or sorry and these hearing these words do not bring me closer to the other. It only reinforces that the other is not with me in my hour of need and will not be there emotionally to support me through my grieving journey. Rather what I hear is get on with it and cope. Then there is words like 'I understand I have also be through the same thing or I know what it feels like.' Really do you? Its all relational. My thoughts are no matter how common or similar our loss or tragedies, the experience for each and every individual is different. This includes loss in a family loss. Off course as a family its easier to lean on each other cause it's common ground to share similar memories and some of the grief. Now the experience of grief will differ. I am just wondering what this whole process of loss is all about. It still feels like its something that we the majority still experience in isolation, even within families. A person dies those closest carry on the griefing process. Friends and acquientences carry on with life. Then there is that push for the bereaved to go back to work. I once told my friend if I had my way; I would have gone back to work in my pj's and cried when I felt like it. In reality its not appropriate to display grief in workplaces, even beter yet we have become accustomed to not grieving in public. Dare I cry in public. For me keeping accoustomed to not crying in public is about the general public reaction ('it's ingrained to be abnormal'). If I could cry I would endlessly until I was done, but I do not want to hear someone say sorry or are you okay. My question is what are you sorry about, do you want me to stop crying so I can sympathise with you? These words are used too quickly and hold no meaning. I think what this all brings and exposes in me is anger. I want the freedom in expression and also to feel human connections which are not blocked by words. I am looking for human acceptance in grief as a process and not an immediate cure to what is socially acceptable. I am looking not to be classified in a box, of 'a nutter' just because I may have grieved longer than you or whats socially acceptable. No one is an expert in grief, its about developing a human connection to an unimaginable experience.

I am YOU

I am you, I am made of you, you made me with someone who is also a part of me I am you, I wish you were me If you were me, we us would be entwined forever I could be you, me and you together could have conquered the world Being you, and I You is made of greatness You, Me, I You, what does it all symbolise and does you or I nor me need to mean anything If you put me and you together then its explosive, the 'it' being you and I combined together Now us and we could have ventured the world together It's now me without you Dont you see, me without you does not equal us You and I were meant to write great chapters together Now you are no longer, I shall become you and me As I become you and me, I only wish I can do us justice so you would me proud of me that is now you I see you, looking and me at us now smilling Ah at last I have you in the now, knowing me and what us meant Now if only you could see the you I see smilling at me, then and only then you would know that we are eternal and meant to be forever The you that is present in the now is possibly you trying to tell me and us that we can survive without you The joy that is present in the now is the you I want to be with smiling and laughing with If only I with you could feel your joy Seeing you without me in the distance like a vague memory only brings back reality that you and I are no more The we, we could have been is only me without you It's the me with you and only your memories-R.I.P.

Blood is thicker than water

You once told me blood is thicker than water Now I am left realising what you meant The pain cuts deep and hurts in magnitudes unexplained I have become infantilised yet again I am re-learning how to craw back to life I am learning to milk the little pleasures of what is left to life without you I rock and cradle to music which is a reminder of you I am learning a new language of survival and loss in life I have become my own teacher of life without you My body has aged a thousand years, yet I feel like an infant I reach for things that are far from my reach I wish to be reborn into a world where you exist, so I can feel that greater love again The pain cuts through, so deep I have learned to adapt to a world of numbness I feel the pain inwardly, yet cannot express it outwardly, nor can no longer drop a single tear I am locked within, with no outward expression The inner me is fighting a losing battle. I want to fight in order to express my anger, but my body is weakened I want to cry a million tears, but only you will not be there to grip onto my frailing body I have become accustomed to a dark world of which I know like the back of my hand I have become the Jackal and Hide of life I am self taught in skills of emotional survival and instability You were my day and night, the good and bad that can be in a relationship In the end you become my friend Who knew you could become my friend Hence the reason 'it' the pain cuts so deep and runs through my inner core, so much so I have become accoustmed to the deep chills and unbreakable pebbled crystals twisting in me waiting to explode I fear the moment my inner turmoil aliviates, I would have lost you yet again

Now and again I cry

Now and again I cry a thousand tears My heart drips with blood of menlaconly The floods of tears are endless, and fall into a deep dark well Now and again I cry a million tears, My eyes flood and drip tears of ice crystal petals The ice crystals petals drip endlessly and stream down icy mountains Now and again I cry a trilliin tears My tears freeze from being exposed to a deep breeze. A deep breeze which cuts through me and deep into my veins Now and again, I cry, I just cry endlessly I hold on tight to the deep penetrating chill for it has become my kindred spirit I clasp with all my might through explosive waves as the tears stream down the river in great speed; I feel you slip away from me just as slick as the speed of the waves Now and again, I. . . , I just . . . I try to hung on My arms with all their strength hung on, only to be weakened by the physicality of your supernatural presence Now and only now in the here and now, I . . . I tirelessly try to grip onto the roots and core of you Now and again, I ask Why can't I feel you near me Now and again I do not . .. I do not feel my own physical stength as my body is weakened by your suction You drain me and I am lost in an endless plea You cut through me like bloods runs through veins Now and again tears endlessly flow and fear runs deep chills into my inner core

My mutiple affairs may soon collide. . .

My mutliple affairs and guilty pleasures may soon collide. I have always been able to move from one relationship to the next, but now it has become a challenge Victoria has kept all my Secrets so far. Victoria is a smooth talker who nourishes and replenishes my needs Tommy, the allure of sweetness. Tommy represented high school years and the essence of being sweet sixteen Tommy was lively, independent and had a natural appeal Calvin represented teenage angst of secret obssessions and contradictions With Calvin there was no promise of euphoria or eternity Calvin stripped any notion of being inspired by orchids ready to bloom Rather, Calvin appealed to bad boy imagery and oozed sex apeal; with a wash board stomach fit to model Calvin underwear and jeans. Burburrey, so effortless sensual with an ecletic combination of refined elegance Burburrey how could I resist, an illusion of potent college maturity refined by enhanced precious essence Burberry was a trend setter with an eye for design It was that checkered scarf that did it for me Gucci appeared at an unexpected time in my life Gucci was wordly, long distingished and successful Gucci premiered in successful and stylish couture settings Gucci awoke my senses and made me feel confident Powerfully sophicated enough to aaccompany a graceful leading lady down the red carpet, in her courture Gucci gown Gucci inspired me to premiere my couture Unfortunately, I fell for Gucci's brother Gucci Guilty is what I call this relationship I indulged myself in moments of guilty pleasure, and felt the freedom of going slightly beyond social conventions It felt like the thrill of staying in control while pushing boundaries Guicci Guilty sensual and distinct, enabled me to express my enique style Little did I know Dior would come into my life It was during the evening opening of christmas lights in Oxford street There stood Dior solidatry next to a counter in a retail shop Although the shop floor was filled with shoppers, I could not keep my eyes off Dior Mind you Gucci Guilty was a few steps away at another counter Dior's sensual, harminiuos and luminous appearance was like an incarnation of an Egypitan God I just could not resist Dior's opulence and strength. I had to get close and then I was hooked. Doir J'adore Now remember my best friend Victoria who keeps all my Secrets? Little does she know that Ted is my new best friend Dare I mention his last name it's . . . Baker Ted is like Victoria, only Ted is elegant and helps me deal with social butterflies, so that I can stand out from the crowd My world of guily pleasures will soon collide For, one thing Tommy, Calvin, Burberry, Gucci, Gucci Guilty have in common is ME Lets just hope Victoria can keep all my Secrets To be continued. . .

THE JOY'S OF CHRISTMAS

It's one of those things I never do I have not done in many years In fact my line of 'saving the trees' had worked so far My close friends know how I am They know how green issues are close to my heart They know how dedicated I am to saving trees Unfortunately, my neighbour is none the wiser She just had to do it She dropped it off yesterday wrapped it in two layers of paper, to my horror Thanks to her, I have now run out of excuses For she has seen my recycling bags She has seen my multilayers of paper wrapped inside the recycling bag (s) So I forced myself to go to the shops It took so much effort In the end I bought a whole box I had to prepare myself for I could not handle any more surprises So I did it, it was a hard decision I bought a whole box of Christmas Cards Oh the joys of Christmas To you, the one who made buy a whole box of Christmas cards Here is your Christmas Card Which got me out of my warm bed Which I had to walk a whole ten minutes to buy I may need an eye test, after starring at all those layers of cards in bright red icolours and piercing shimmering glitter I now have blisters from standing in a long time consuming line with crazed people with smiley faces I may also need to sue the retail person who tried to rip me off by enticing me into buying a pen A christmas card pen really? Ummm I already have a million pens from work and conferences thank you Oh and to top it off, she asked me if I needed a plastic bag Couldnt she already see my environmentally friendly bag I was carrying I hope you appreciate the lengths I had to go through to buy this card- not just any card a Christmas Card In the end I had to treat myself to a large Ameretto Latte, and shoes just to feel better again The least you can do to cheer me up is to treat me to a glass of my favourite drink and in my favourite wine bar P.S. Oh by the way your christmas Card is the same as everyone else Otherwise I would have needed an ambulance to calm my anxiety levels of having to choose a card especially for you I am pretty sure you feel special anyway to receive a card from me Signed .. Miss Christmas Grinch

More of the GREEN stuff PLEASE

We met over ten years ago I remember our first encounter It was during Christmas dinner If you only knew the length's we had to go to, to prepare the eventful fine dining occassion Off course I had the hard task of preparing the seating arrangements and selecting drinks to accompany the four course meal As a duty and out of obligation, I had to take a sip of each drink; to find the right match Then there was the seating arrangements, I had to worry about too I was also in and out of the kitchen rightly so, as the main tester Somehow I did not know you were already in the kitchen tacked away somewhere Some other women already had their grabby hapnds on you, trying to peal your layers We were first introduced at the table Everyone took their turn in being introduced, to each and every fine dish around the table Our introduction was last All I could see was green I didnt know how to approach you or how you would mix with the others You were well shaped, but had too many layers You had a smooth outlook, a bit rough on the edges and had an unfamiliar scent I intially shyed away from you My hands froze Then I just had to do it I had to taste you Everyone stood agasp in anticipating and waiting to see my reaction when I had resurficed A few girls giggled at my reaction I resurficed only with a confused face I didnt know whether I liked the taste of you I felt like hiding you under the table but I couldnt The host made sure we all finished our dinner, so there was no chance of hiding you I felt like a five year old being forced to eat finish my meal Now ten years on I can proudly say, I am pleased we were introduced Although you are bland, you go with my everything You fulfill my winter blues Your scent still stands out I am proud to add you on my list of green stuff P.S. Brussel Sprouts, I can now admit to the world that I truly like you:-)

I WANT THEM TO KNOW

You existed for real
I want people to know you and to remember you
You existed for real

You walked this earth
Your feet prodded through miles of dust
Yet you neither I could predict that soon you would become one with the dust

You are encased safely but for how long
Sooner or later you will become one with the earth

Although you lay deep, it is hard to imagine you there
It is hard to imagine YOU, there laying encased

You were not one to be encased
You loved and lived life

Everyday life had a meaning
You lived every minute of it DOING
You DID what you were passionate about

You worked none stop
Holidays never existed for you
You lived to give and care for others

You also lived to self destruct
As much as you loved life, you were your own worst enemy.
You did not love yourself fully, as much as you gave fully to your life's passion (work) and to others
You did not give yourself a break

You lived to actualise your career potential
You leave a lot of history behind

Only wish that what you have built reamaims as part of your history
Only wish that in time the buildings you have built do not self distrust
Only wish that they remain a fortress

It's hard to imagine you laying still
You were never one to lay still
You were forever on your feet
When you were not on your feet, your mouth did the walking for you
For you loved to be with others and connect with otherness

So you have left us with many of your stories
Your stories are embedded in us

I shall one day be able to tell your story
I want people to know you existed
I don't want people to remember you
You existed for a purpose
You worked everyday for a purpose
The purpose can't just be for you to exist and to be gone

I want them to know
They have to know
They do need know

That you existed and still exist

wRitting for CHAOS

I am writing for the sake of writing, without any exact order or common sense. I am propelled to write as a form of an outlet. My head is full of dialect which can no longer be contained in its own internal dialect.

So many random thoughts floating around. Today is rather a peculiar day. I am most connected to people who are in a form of malice, who themselves are feeling some form of disorder. I did not invite them into my world, but they came along willingly. It's as though a magnet drew us together.

I am glued to people who are going through some form of life disorder. Whether it be reconnecting with a loved one who has long since been deceased or going through a life changing experience which leaves one stuck.

I write for chaos & disorder, because I do not want my sentences or words to make sense. My inner self does not make sense, as its not connected fully to the external. The inner core drives me externally to uncontrollable forces.

So for instance, I've woken up feeling melancholy beyond my control. I am left with minimal options. The rational self prompts, me to connect with the world, while the irrational me wants to remain with this melancholy. I am lazy at the concept of  deciphering it all, whats the point. Rather I remain with the pain. I lay still the world departs from me, while the clock moves and ticks in the invisible parallel of the world which shifts time.

I am comfortable yet in conflict with letting life just pass by.
I am comfortable in being alone yet in despair.

I reflect on what it means to be alone in the world.
I rationalise and agree with previous philosophers in the notion of we are born alone and die alone.
As much as we reach for a connect in times of happiness or sadness, the connect will never be fully merged.

My senses are more heightened than before.
I see the world in another light.
Grieve no matter what the connect is the most isolating experience
It drives one into so many untouched levels
As much as grief brings people together (families especially) it draws away others (friends)
I've noticed people get lost

As much as you feel lost, people (friends) do not know how to be towards you
So you find in the hour of need, you are alone

Moreover what's shocking is that someone exists and one day they are gone, and the mass population moves on.
People are almost surprised by your comatose status.
The most surprising comments is, "what's wrong"?????
This is the breaking point. The inner self is dancing with rage and disbelief

For how could you feel the way I feel
How could you be connected as I am
So there lies the concept we come alone we die alone
for how could you be so disconnected to my world of inner turmoil
how could you be so ignorant to my inner goings

I like writing for chaos

I went to a funeral

I went to a funeral

I went to see you for myself in order to believe that your physical being had departed

I dressed for you, in mourners’ clothes and according to set customs

I arrived and was assessed as a foreigner by the crowd

Amongst the crowd I was one of the few who could call you my closest bloodline

I arrived just in time to see you

I went to a funeral

I went to a funeral but the funeral was not yours

I plucked the courage to see you laid in the coffin, dressed in your best suit

I willed by legs and balanced my shaking body to have the strength to walk towards you

Although it was sunny outside, you lay in a cold and dark room

There were people in the room, sat on the floor surrounding you

I did not see them; to me they were a blur behind my tears

I felt like an intruder as I walked in a procession of a line of your close descendants to see you

I felt cheated that we did not have this private moment, only you with us

We were meant to have these private few minutes with you to say goodbye

I walked close to you and feared looking straight at you

I knelt down beside you and held your coffin

I attempted to touch your face through the glass you were encased in

I forced myself to look at you, for I had to make this surreal dream real

I had to look at you, in order to believe you had truly departed from this earth

I looked at you and felt a cold chill, I could not look at you longer than a second

Each of the several times I looked at you I did not see you

It’s as though, I felt if I looked harder I could see you

If I looked harder I could feel you, and accept that you had departed

The person resembled you

How could they encase you in glass, thereby leaving no room for me to leave any memorabilia next to you?

How could you depart from this earth, without a little piece of me?

How could you depart this world without me actually touching your hand?

How could you be so encased in such a small space?

How could this be you?

Where was your peaceful sleeping face?

Even in sleep when alive, you looked at peace.

This whole place did not have a feel of you

We walked to your burial site

We trended along, amongst a crowd and got lost within it

Everyone there had their own personal goodbye to say, or were just there to just be

I went to a funeral

I went to a funeral but the funeral was not yours

There were many people there, many people who praised you and admired you

They said all they had to say about you

Our words got lost

They told us about how great you were, including all your achievements

We were meant to say our last words to you

Our words got lost

We were meant to stay behind with you for a while, without anyone else there

I went to a funeral, but the funeral was not yours

I landed with a heavy heart and left with an even heavier heart

For how could I touch down without you being there to greet me with your smile and warmth?

How could I depart without you being there to say goodbye

How could I leave knowing you lay somewhere so far away?

How can I make this all real?

Even till today, following your funeral I cannot let you go yet

I cannot bring myself to say the words which are instantaneously said by many

I am not ready to let you go

How can I be ready to ready to let you go?

I feel you in my awaken state and in sleep

I awake with deep sorrow and remain in a surrealist daze

The sorrow is a constant reminder that you have departed

It is a reminder that you are dead

I see you only through memories, mostly memories of childhood

You smile and laughter carried me through tough times, now it appears that’s fading in the background and the sorrow is surfacing

We were meant to ..............................

We were meant to .................................

You definitely have proven that you are not infinite that even you can die and leave this earth

You definitely chose a quick exit which left us with no room for me say the final goodbye

I wish your last moments were of peace

I hope you found peace in the end

I hope that you are now at peace

As your daughter, I remain selfish and cannot let you go yet.

How can a daughter let her FATHER go?

I have forgotten how to CRY out LOUD

I have forgotten how to CRY out LOUD

I am overwhelmed physically and emotionally, so much so that I have lost the freedom of expression.

I have lost my speech, so much so that I cannot vocalise the erupting volatility of my inner turmoil

My throat is forever soar with the pain you have inflicted like a disease

My physical being and energy of what my vessel represents is lost

Every fibre of my being aches

 I am existing among many only a few see the real me

If you look close and deep in my eyes, you will see my soul is no longer there

My capsule is closed to the world, with little room for visitors

I  have become a slave to you; my inner turmoil

I feel you slowly erupting, but do not feel safe or ready to unleash you

Even though I have evacuated all potential victims to avoid them being inflicted, I alone am not confident to unleash you

I am vulnerable; you have shaken my every sense of being

As I can’t handle you, so I abuse myself subtly in various forms. For instance, I sit all day and do nothing apart from watching my youthful body decay. I, I have found comfort in nursing my pain by numbing it with false substances

In those moments when I am still and numb, I feel you slowly easing your grip from me. I become elated.  I feel you fade in the back ground; although I know you are near and will resurface again; just as soon as I’ve been cleansed from pretentious highs

Days and days go by which appear quiet the same

In the midst of it all, I am hanging on tightly to the self destruct button

The rebel in me is ready to press the button, because I no longer want to feel. I want to unleash you onto me and any other unforeseen victim.

The sane me wants to feel ride this insane roller coaster till the end. The inner pride in me tells me you cannot defeat me

How do I describe you or name you to the world?

You are GRIEF

I did not invite you but you came anyway

You shaken my world to unimaginable levels of emotional and physical intensity

Never did I imagine that you would shake the inner physicality of me, to this extent.

You have stunted my external being; everything real in life has become false and more visible

You have slowed my participation in life, so much so am no longer enthusiastic or an active player in it

I know your purpose for being and affecting me so

You want me to feel you deeply

You want me to express myself freely

Sadly I have forgotten how to CRY out LOUD and express myself freely

So you and I may be bound together for a long while yet

I do not know whether I have strength in me to overcome you

In the end I want me

MILLION WOMEN RISE (3rd March 2012) & INTERNATIONAL WOMEN DAY (8th March 2012)

Million Women Rise march against domestic violence - London

Media Summary

Hundreds of women marched through Central London to a rally in Trafalgar Square. The march was organised by the group Million Women Rise and is an annual women-only march in protest of male violence against women and children

http://www.demotix.com/news/1087528/million-women-rise-march-and-rally

8th March Women's Organisation
"The Separation of Religion from the State and the overthrow of the Anti-Woman Islamic Regime in Iran is in the First Step toward Women's Emancipation!

March 8 is on its way. Heartbeats intensify, and our sights are set on the struggle of our sisters all around the world, to join together, hand in hand, for a world free of gender oppression

For yet another year, we followed, day by day and moment by moment, the struggle of women all around the world. We became furious with the attacks of women in Tahrir Square, those brave women who refused to be kept out of the struggle in Egypt. With women protesting in Wall Street, we women challenged the defenders of 'Democracy and the World Capitalist Order.' In Libya we women cried out that we don't need Sharia laws. We women in Greece poured into the streets and shook the 'United and Free' European order, and we women in the US are fighting for aborting rights and against pornography and patriarchy. ...

Let us join together to celebrate International Women's Day on a  massive scale, with pride and joy, with our struggles focused against patriarchal order that rules the world"
www.8mars.com


Sick of Sexism, discrimination and cuts?
It doesn't have to be like this!

Since 2011, we women have been on the march again to defend our jobs, benefits, pensions and vital public services, which are under attack. We gained legal rights to equal pay and against sex discrimination through past campaigns and struggles in the workplace. Yet the gender pay gap remains ad is widening as public sector workers' wages have frozen. Two thirds of workers in public  services are women and will bear the brunt of the job cuts.

Young women are on the frontline of the fight against the increase in tuition fees and abolition of EMA. Half off graduates are currently women but many, especially mature students, will now be put off higher eduction, asking themselves if it is worth a lifetime of debt, as the chances o a job at the end are diminishing. 20% of graduates were out of work last year (Labour Force Survey. The situation will get worse as jobs in the public sector- social work, eduction, local government and health- where the majority of women graduates found work in the past, are cut to the bone.
http://www.socialistparty.org.uk/main/Home

Bitter Sweet Home Coming

“Every existing thing is born without reason, goes on living out of weakness, and dies by accident.”
― Jean-Paul Sartre, “The Philosophy of Jean Paul Sartre”

On the 18^th of February 2012, the world said goodbye to their music idol, Whitney Elizabeth Houston.

The funeral ceremony was aired to the world via a social media- the Houston family invited the world into their private lives. 

Social media connected people on a higher platform of solitude and spirituality. Individuals from all walks of life and religious backgrounds went to church.  We all entered that church, led by social media to say goodbye to Whitney. Moreover, we were taken back to school and taught about what it meant to religious and to belief in a higher power (God).  The strength it takes to accept loved one has now gone to another spiritual reality.

 What echoed throughout was that this was not a final goodbye rather that their loved one’s purpose on earth had ended; now it was their time to rejoice in the arms of their heavenly father. My existentialist hat is own: The belief in the afterlife is a hard concept to grasp, as the afterlife creates a continuum of life in spiritual form. Death although acknowledged in the funeral ceremony, does not exist- spirituality creates an afterlife.

As I write over 13,000 people around the world have flooded the ‘Remembering Whitney website, to share their memories. http://remembering.whitneyhouston.com/. On this social platform (aided by Facebook) the participants were united in sharing memories of their idol, and in sharing their feeling of loss.

Twitter yesterday was flooded with people commenting per second on their thoughts about the funeral ceremony. I was amazed at the floods of per second tweets from individual across the global- who all had a bit of personal contribution to make. There was no inhibition of thoughts, which would usually be the norm in daily physical social engagements.  People had free will on this social platform to speculate positively and negatively on each speaker; there was love, empathy, mockery, ridicule and at time ‘hateful’ words. These people had no obligation to anyone to hold some type of social etiquette; for at the touch of a button they had the free will to express their thoughts, without any judgements from anyone. This is the phenomena of social media, guilt free environment and a platform where one makes the choice.

Social media, allowed a shared platform where people could express how they were feeling, about the death of someone they idolised.

There is conflict within me, about all this social media hype. The same social media that was adulated yesterday, was the same that may have been the downfall of this idol. Of course there may have been other causes as well, which have to be considered.

Who is the social media?

We all feed of the media virus and have some level of control in pushing the social media drive. There are those behind the camera who are driven by our need to be feed off per second the latest news.

 This person who had everything in the world had doubts about herself (like we all do); unlike us her feelings must have been heightened to another level. When she was down, we were all spectators on her down fall and fed off all the negative press. Not once do I recall any high level out pouring as magnified to the level as it was yesterday.  There was no outwardly energy pouring out to rescue their idol.

I watched the funeral ceremony, whilst multi-taking between pre-viewing Twitter, Facebook and TMZ, another social site was that we feed off social media, in all shapes and forms. I am amazed at my ability to simultaneously feed off various social media platforms at once. There was some level of stimulus to absorb it all, as much as possible so as not to miss any second of it. 

What I began to realise was that we scream the loudest when the person has departed from this earth. We mourn yet not recall that at one point the individual may have cried out the loudest screams to be rescued. Typical us we feed off the negative press, and feed the vulnerable individual to the wolves, thereby leaving the individual isolated.

So there becomes a conflict the person wants to be loved so much, by the public and struggles through love and hate relationships with the media. The conclusion is that the media is not only the person carrying the camera, the media is US. We all have some level of control in what defines social media. This is such a powerful movement which can construct and destruct in a second.

It was interesting to see that when the camera’s stopped rolling on the TV, the social media on some internet sites continued rolling. There was a high interest from reporters, who wanted to know which celebrities had attended the service. There was screaming and shouting at the site of a celebrity, and a need to get that person’s attention. What was forgotten here was that we were somewhat intruders on the day; so there needed to be some level of respect for the aggrieved. I can appreciate that us the population has the need to know who attended. What become apparent was that as spectators, there was luck of sympathy and it was easily forgotten that these individuals were human beings who were going through a grieving process and may have been in fragile state to vocalise their feelings to the media (US).

To conclude on the existentialism:

“They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then its night once more.”
― Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot

Albert Camus believed in the concept of absurdity- “Life is Absurd.”

Life is Absurd in that we live in the future and in the hope of later and tomorrow.

“We live on the future: “tomorrow,” “later on,” “when you have made your way,” “you will understand when you are old enough.” Such irrelevancies are wonderful, for; after all, it’s a matter of dying…. Tomorrow, he was longing for tomorrow, whereas everything in him ought to reject it. That revolt of the flesh is the absurd.”

This absurdity occurs because the Intellectual patterns in humans desire to live for the future. Biological patterns, on the other hand, don’t live for the future.  Camus suggested we get rid of hope because hope gives us the illusion of eternity. He says that we should live in absurd freedom, revolting from our absurd position, but constantly reaffirming the absurd.

So basically what he is saying is that when one awakens to self, they realise how absurd is it, to long for the future which may never come. Rather what’s more important is how we actively engage and perform with life in the now.  Not such an easy concept to achieve, but ultimately this way would bring us closer to understanding death and its importance. And possibly if we lived our lives in such a way, we would be more questioning to daily routines and rules and significance in our lives. For we only have today to live, Right?

Camus believed in dualisms, life and death, rational and irrational. The conclusion was we had to engage with one or the other. For instance, if you’re not being rational, then you’re being irrational, and by being irrational one would not be able to understand anything, including the universe. He suggested that we reflect on our emotions, and then we would begin to understand. What I can understand in relation to death- is that we do not understand it (therein lies the absurdity), because we are busy living for the future.  Death is absurd because the rational mind cannot deal with it.

“It is the idea of death makes one aware of one's life, one's vital being – that which is impermanent and will one day end. When this vitality is appreciated, one feels free – for there is no urgency to perform some act that will cancel the possibility of death, seeing as though there is no such act. In this sense, all human activity is absurd, and the real freedom is to be aware of life in it’s actually and totally, of its beauty and its pain.”

 “We know we must die; we would rather not, but why must we suffer angst, engage in theatrics, and create myths for ourselves. Why not simply face it and get on with the living of our lives?” -Kai Nielsen’s

To end........

There is an absurdity in our temporary fixture on the death ‘especially in relation to celebrities (for we only know them via social media). Social media numbs us, to the level of which we do not really appreciate the symbolism in the death; it does not push us hard enough to wake us up to ourselves to change the course in the direction of our lives. Apart from exposure to social media, death close to home neither pushes us to that heightened state of living for today (only a few can master this art).

Death has now become easily accessible globally, via socially mediated devices and communication technologies. Apart from access to celebrity deaths, we are exposed to images of death from around the world- per each news hour we watch on a daily basis. We have become immune about death it’s now a daily norm. There is nothing authentic in this experience.

If we were affected by death, we would not be immune to rescuing a celebrity (with a drug addiction), or mass daily killings, or poverty.

As a collective if we were affected, we could change the world by a click of a button. This would be joined social consciousness awakening to the absurdity of life.

'Made In Chelsea' vs. 'The Only Way is Essex'

 

Grand opportunity to analyse the West vs East side story

Who are their audience and why the attraction or the allure?

There is subtext about class on both ends; one is more composed the other is overly exposed with extra sun burn to accompany this type of class. Their audiences' surprisingly  enough have become men and women of all ages and from all works of life. There may be a clash and divide, which on classes are drawn to either side.

One side is demure in being, the other wants to make the grand entrance of the big I am. The class that has IT from inception is less flashy and lucks the craving to  display it via appearance.

Who is more accepting and wants to be accepted? Neither

Both sides have raised an exclusive status, in order to fit in these types of social circles an 'average Joe' would not fit. Therefore, what may be classed as a 'third class citizen' has been blanked out and ex-communicated.

'Third Class Citizen' represents luck in: material items, social etiquette (for the West), social status & wealth.

So why do people want to be like any of them:

The exposure to a surreal world possibly?

The allure and grandeur of pretence of being someone?

The material world, of designer items and being able to purchase an item without a second blink?

Are there any lessons to be learned?

Are they really 'Made in Chelsea' or clawed their way in, as every other 'average Joe'.

Is the only way Essex, a place where reality consists or faking one's appearance?

Does acting now represent gaining an exposure platform to social media, via a reality show?

Credit to be given, where it's due

Both can be given credited for being young and ambitious.

For having a no holds bar in living the dream and actualising their potential

Both represent the Americanism's of chasing the Dream

In the UK, one quietly acquires wealth and it's not for the most part on public display- although, I may be naive to this. So when it's exposed on the TV, there is no wonder why it may appeal to the ordinary folk.

What these shows demonstrate especially, 'The only Way is Essex' that 'IT'- THE DREAM, can be attainable. It demonstrates that if you are passionate about something- pursue it. There is another false concept here as well, that's its easily attainable via the realms of social media. The unheard, message is that it takes hard graft, dedicated and commitment to attain 'THE DREAM'. Again the dream for some can be easily by mummifying their appearance for public speculation- each to their own.

While on the other hand, 'Made in Chelsea,' that is a hard barrier to break. I am guessing part of being part of or becoming 'IT,' majorly consist of being blue blood origin, accompanied by inherited wealth. Also consists of being exposed to public school, where day one you are taught, and the skill of social etiquette

Although the two classes are somewhat similar they would not mix socially, as there might be an underlying snobbery on each side.

Any links to existentialism?

It's about BEING in every shape and form. Living in the now and actualising one's potential. Now, where this form of being is elevated on a social media platform, there may be some disconnection with the authentic self. Rather one becomes consumed with the state of being to please and be somebody else for others. Some will feed off the social media attention to feed anxious states of being- social media becomes a form of a drug. If unexposed for prolonged periods, one becomes to feel as though they do not exist and cannot cope with being- nothingness.

So which side, do I am find more alluring?

I'll let you be the judges and define which class I may belong to whether it's the West or the East. You would actually be surprised, at what am MADE of, and which WAY- represents me.

Death Anxiety (Europea vs African)

It appears death is following me. Possibly awakening me to another heightened  level.

I thought today, yes I've got it, a phenomena about death taboos. In reality  it not really a new phenomena, rather my own awakening.


It's become prevalent that death,has become a social norm for people especially in developing countries. As I grow older am starting to realise that death, is now becoming part of my reality. In death, there is nothing unique about emotions or a distinction in feelings.

Possibly the phenomena I am starting to appreciate is the difference in grieving processes across cultures. The distinction for me is the cross between the European and African culture grieving processes(this is the closest I can associate with having been exposed to both.


My assumption was that,  if you vocalise and are expressive emotionally during the passing of your loved one, then one's family circle becomes supportive.

On the contratary English cultures has demonstrated the grieving process for some is  can be more subdued; non emotionally expressive. This at times has to with one's social and class background.

On the otherhand, I am beginning to now understand that in some African  cultures, death is a taboo. Although most may cry the loudest during the ceremony amongst many others, in the end each individuals goes their own way and grieves secretly. Culturally  people feel uncomfortable to discuss the cause of death (rather people are left to speculate). This may be due to another social taboo, that the deceased died from a deadly disease (i.e. Aids) which is not yet fully socially accepted. Families in death congregate, yet they segregate in the supporting each other through the grieving process.


The re-occurring words are be strong, it's in Gods hands, time is a healer. This is across cultures.


The distinction is after a loved one dies the English cultures are able to discuss the deceased, celebrate their memories (i.e. joint yearly annual pub memorial gatherings), visit the deceased graveyard at free will, vocalise their emotions.

 For some African cultures there is a song and dance about visiting the graveyard, this process does not become free will. The chief or the 'man with keys to the graveyard,' dictates authoritative status of when one can visit their loved ones grave.


The Africa in you speaks out:
We are aware you are grieving, but topic of the deceased now becomes nil & void. The deceased person shall no longer be discussed in any shape form of manner.


So how can time be a healer, how can one  be strong, or accept it's in God's hand when the deceased becomes now existence in discussion following their death.


Going back to the beginning of the story- I wonder how then some African cultures now cope with death becoming the norm of daily life?

What does that do to the psyche when not much is acknowledged about the deceased or the grieving process?

A KNIGHT IN SHINING £££ ECONOMIC PROOF VEST

I dreamt of my knight in shiningg armor.
The dream was so surreal.

Although it's been a week I can still recall his futures and character.

• We lay in each others arms.
• He wrapped his mascular arms arms around me.  He was tall, wore a gray  t-shirt with jeans. His feet wear bare and that appealed to me more.
• In his arms I felt his strength and felt secure. I felt empowered to be protected by him. Wrapped up in his strong protective arms, I felt warmth and at ease with my heart.

Now back to realism. The dream itself it a dream and a mirror reflection of my desires. The dream man is an idea and complements my wishes and desires.

As of last year, I've discovered that I am no longer, singing to Beyonce's tune of "Independent Women." As much as I have enjoyed that era, I am now starting to realise I could gladly put my career ladder shoes up. It's become a tough world, filled with territorial survival instincts.

I've discovered men within my age range are either going bold, with kids or do not meet the criteria.

 

I believed in being miss independent, in a relationship and out of relationship. Now as I reach my mid thirties, some prospects of my tick list of the ideal man are starting to shorten by the day. I no longer need a long tick list.

 

What matters now are the economical facts. I need and want an ambititious man, with a good profitable career. My boundaries are narrowing as the years go. A profitable career does mattter, social and economical  factors have dictated this. Therefore, I take my hat off to being miss independent.

The chapter of me saying, hunny I can support you while you pursue your lifes ambitions is gone- sorry guys. The princess hat is, this lady wants to be treated and pampered for all her hard grafting up the career ladder.

I now want  an  Adonis, who adorns himself with the a secure profitiable economic proof vest.

I felt your sprit leave me

I awoke with a sadness on a gloomy day.
For some reason, I awoke with the feeling and need to be creative.
I dragged myself to my table by the window with spectular views of my little seaside town.
There I sat with this diary in front of me, along with a blank art book starring at me screaming out for me to scribble something.

Although I was driven with the feeling to write, there I sat starring at this blank page.
My mind was a blank page.

There you crept as a cold chilled days breeze.
I felt you through my back, then felt the hair in my arms rise.
Thereafter, I felt the cold chilled air sweep through me
I sat numb to this sensation which I could not explain nor express
I let this feeling sensualise through my body, like a familiar friend

The blank memory and book, now had a vivid story to tell
You were there in that moment with me
You had come to rescue me from deep sadness
You had felt it was time for us to finally part
You lifted the pressure off my heart and I felt it leave me

How could I let you go, after 10years?
In this moment, I felt free will
Your presense in silence had a maginitude of meaning, which I did not need to articulate.
You were there in spirit.

To this day, I cannot alter nor express the experience
All I know it was the day you came to me and showed me in physical form that I had to let you go.

I now feel at ease
No longer do I feel sadness nor do I yearn for you, in sadness
What I feel and see now is you; adorable and handsome you
I remember you and those memories are warm
I adored and loved you too much that in passing I could not let you go

Forerver loved E.S.
 May your soul rest in peace sweet prince