This is me, about 38 or so years ago |
Hard to believe.
Technically, I am already in my fortieth year and my next birthday is really a celebration of the conclusion of being 40.
And I've noticed a few things. At first, some of the things made me think that perhaps I was turning into my mother, but upon closer inspection, it seems that I am returning to myself.
I noticed that I had begun to listen to Classic FM in the car. And classical music at work. My mother used to do this, but so did I, as a child. For some reason, I loved classical music when I was a kid. Which is admittedly weird for a child, but I was no ordinary child.
The music soothes me.
At home, I listen to Lotus FM. Yes. Lotus FM. I know, right? Caucasian girl listens to Indian music. When I was a little girl, we sometimes went to Tempo curtains, which was run by an Indian family. They were always playing Radio Lotus. I loved it. Rinky-Tinky music, I called it. I have fantastic memories of ducking through swathes of curtain material while tablas and sitars played and women sang in unusual high pitched voices in a magical language. And the day I discovered the radio station for myself - oh, the joy! Needless to say, my mother was far from impressed.
Picture Credit: Germaine de Larch |
I listen to my mod-jazz, afro-jazz, vintage jazz and it fills me with joy. The thought of taking up singing again fills me with joy. My eccentricity and love of floppy hats fills me with joy. It is as though I have no time or space in my life for those things that do not fill me, create joy or resonate with my soul. I have no time for crazy-makers, psychic vampires or people who are black holes that try to suck out my soul. I have no time for cheap and nasty wine or chocolates or cake.
I have become more vocal and more eccentric. I want to create art, perform and tick off the items on my bucket list. I want to live a life that is full, passionate and meaningful.
I still wonder where the decade went between 30 and now. I lived that time in a fog. At 29, I remember being on my knees in the bathroom, crying my heart out and asking the Universe to let someone live my life, that I was unable to do so myself. That I couldn't. And a part of me, deep down, took over for a while. And it lived out ten years in a mostly dissociative state.