Go big or do nothing at all

I pop in to see Bakerman after work to cheer him up and to check on how sick he really is. Het is not going well at all, temperature running high and a vague expression on his face. His body and his entire being is clearing his energy field of all the negativity that has accumulated. What I am about to hear is going to call the beginning of a brand-new era in our lives.

“Oh hi,” I greet him as I bustle into his bakery atelier. “My conf call turned out to be postponed. And I’m a bit late.”

“Better than never,” Bakerman smiles meekly, happy to see me.

“So my mother, positive evolution?” I ask him cutting straight to the chase.

“I am going to have a slice of cake and a big cup of tea now,” Bakerman skuttles around his workplace slowly gathering deliciously smelling items. “Do you want some?”

“Yesss please. Chocolate cake?” I am looking around at all the tempting things he has concocted. “Wim is going to start a blog too now. Fun huh.”

“I don’t know,” Bakerman has his back to me as he is shaking and trying carefully to prepare two big mugs of fresh tea. “My job is to help you look at alternatives instead of a single point of view that may or may not be correct.”

“Mmmm lost me,” I sigh as I take a big bite of the chocolate creamy cake he just placed in front of me. “Great cake though.”

“What was the whole reading for your mom?” Bakerman turns to face me now holding out a hot steamy mug of tea. I accept his offer quickly afraid he might spill half of the hot brew in his clumsy sickness.

“She’s financially well off but can’t see it,” I start recounting what the story of my wild unknown tarot cards. “She reaps what she sows with me and my brother. Too much in control. A big change is coming, sudden. And she’ll be upset. But it’s a blessing in disguise. In two years she will meet a new love interest. I told her to do AirBnB for extra income. Or English conversation. Or cake workshops. How to make a blue cake for instance. Hope renewed. Connect to the force within.”

“Was she not an accountant or something?” Bakerman asks as he slowly stirs his tea with a small dainty spoon.

“No she was an administrative assistant at the army,” I tell him. That translates into less than a secretary. “She liked to pretend she was very important.”

“Oh,” Bakerman shrugs as he takes a first sip of his tea.

“And she liked to copy the military,” I could go on forever on details regarding my mother. “She said she never saved for her pension. Can anybody really be so reckless?”

“Yes sure,” Bakerman nods at me unblinkingly.

“She says she only has one income,” I go over the inconsistencies with my best friend. “Does this mean my brother doesn’t contribute to paying the costs of living at home?”

“Of course not,” Bakerman laughs. “Your mother should have put him in a special nursing home years ago.”

“Haha,” I enjoy a good laugh. “Yes she should. I think he only works part time. Lazy sod.”

“The best way to treat your brother is to get him help in finding a job and keeping it then throw him out,” Bakerman eyes me coolly from his puffy red face.

“My mother will never throw him out,” I shake my head looking down at the tea mug resting in my lap. “I told her she should get him to move on. But always excuses.”

“She knows he can’t survive on his own,” Bakerman mocks.

“Yup,” I sigh.

“Make sure you teach your kids the value in achievement,” Bakerman warns me.

“I do all the time,” I smile back at him. “And they do chores.”

“Discipline is very good for kids,” Bakerman confirms.

“Yes I dont want morons like my brother,” I pull a funny face as I think of that genetic failure.

“Does he know he is the village idiot in Turnpoint Mountains?” Bakerman hears all the gossip in town as people come and go in his bakery. “There is another one very similar in Emelo Woods too. Guy is 40 and never worked a day in his life. Lived at home from birth.”

“I don’t think so,” I go on thinking deeply. My mother would have said something if it were the case. “Some call him ‘bambi’. My mother thinks that’s endearing somehow.”

“You should tell him,” Bakerman urges me. his fever clearly rising inside of him. “The whole village knows about him and laughs at him.”

“The village thinks he’s a little old man,” I tell him about the rumours I have heard. “They think he’s my mom’s boyfriend. Nobody believes me when I tell them he’s my brother. They laugh when I say he’s my younger brother. Incredible.”

“It was suggested once that I should offer free treatment for him,” Bakerman is holding my gaze. I remember him offering to talk to my brother last year, but that was the other brother.

“Yes you should,” I push him a little. I’m starting to wonder how much of the fever is actually doing the talking.

“No,” Bakerman shakes his head resolutely. “Incest cases are not my thing.”

“How is he involved in incest?” I am shocked to my core. Is there a simple way to talk to a man delirious with fever? “You mean with my mother? Now it is weird how they live together. Go on vacation together.”

“Who knows the truth,” Bakerman shrugs. “Such is the rumour.”

“Sleep in same bed on vacation,” I go over the weird evidence accumulating under my unbelieving eyes. “It is the rumour, I know. But it can’t be true.”

“Why not? I had a case like this long ago,” Bakerman remembers sourly. “Father and son were fighting all the time. Fist fighting and father couldn’t figure it out. Son was fucking mother and became possessive. Mother preferred fucking son. Son is now living in a mental institution as he is screwed up from this. Both parents are dead now. He has been a basket case for years. Hated having to submit a report to the authorities.”

“Oh my that sounds bad,” I shake my head. I know I can’t cope with even hearing about such things. I’d rather live in my peaceful little world, without drama and terrible stories only my birth family could come up with. “I couldn’t cope with cases like that.”

“Yes,” Bakerman nods solemnly. “Who is your brothers father?”

“I can’t even read the newspaper without getting upset,” my head is spinning now and I’ve lost track of the plot. Are we talking about my brother in the UK and the abuse he put up with from Graham? Or my brother here in Belgium? “My stepdad? Fwa-fwaaah.”

“Yes I know,” Bakerman nods mysteriously.

“Frank is his real name,” I go on. “He looks the spitting image of him.”

“Is he in touch with your brother?” Bakerman asks inquisitively.

“Yes but not often now,” I tell him only what I have heard. “He’s drinking again. And very involved with his new Philippino wife and her lot. He never bothers with me and my kids. Sometimes my brothers but not often.”

“Sounds good,” Bakerman smiles.

“Does it?” I pull up my eyebrow at him.

“You don’t need the added aggravation,” Bakerman points out.

“I don’t,” I sigh.

“Your brother just needs to meet a bitch like his mother and he will be off,” Bakerman lets me know it will all be okay.

“Hasn’t happened yet,” I point out the obvious flaw in his statement. “Don’t think he ever will.”

“There must be loads of them in Belgium,” Bakerman has told me before that there are a million more fish in the sea.

“Mother won’t allow it,” I snort. “There are. But what, come home, be quiet for mom?”

“I understand my elder sister is also crazy,” Bakerman reveals part of his story. “She has a boyfriend who is 30 years her junior. He is a paid companion. A gigolo I guess. Fat and useless. Worked six months in his life so far. Yet she hangs onto him as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Maybe women go crazy when they hit menopause or 60. Maybe they think it will dry up. Even a dog that likes to lick is an option.”

“But he’s her son!” I am starting to feel defensive now. I hate horrible talk and even though I don’t like the lot of them, I won’t stand for nasty talk. “I don’t understand this. I want my children to live full lives. Adventures of their own. Not extensions of myself. Ugh my mom has cats. This is all very dirty, very scary and not healthy.”

“Ah but your autism is different from hers,” Bakerman continues in the same monotone voice. “She see things as possessions. If she can’t own you then you are the problem.”

“I am the problem,” I repeat for myself. “Oh dear, that’s psychopathic.”

“If you blog this please make up names and cities that protect your family,” Bakerman looks at me alarmed.

“Haha,” I laugh as I can’t for the life of me imagine to ever repeat what I have just heard. “Yes true. Like which names? Tweedledum is pretty good.”

“Sure it’s always the same pattern,” Bakerman nods. “Your mother needs to own everyone she is close to. The concept if love is very distant to her. Sex equals love.”

“And the Old-Woman-in-a-Shoe,” I burst out in hysterics now. This conversation has clearly gotten under my skin.

“Yes something like that,” Bakerman is eyeing me with growing concern.

“Ugh disgusting,” I curl my nose. “Now I know where my weird behaviour comes from.”

“Yes,” Bakerman confirms.

“Or how I thought I had to do,” I go on seeing the light. “And it never felt right. So she is doing it with him. Yuk disgusting.”

“My next point. You can change it,” Bakerman always offers options.

“That will never stop,” I give up before I have even started. “I can? That’s the death card. How?”

“Yes you can change your behaviour only,” Bakerman explains the rules to me.

“Ah but I’m fine,” I say firmly. “How do I save my mother and my brother?”

“Fiona you must not put your filters in when reading tarot,” Bakerman scolds me. “You don’t know what’s in her future. You can’t.”

“What do you mean?” I ask him desperately.

“You can’t save them only they can,” Bakerman looks at me with sorry eyes. “You can help them achieve the desire to change.”

“So my blog will expose them and force them to change?” I ponder as anxiety creeps further up my spine.

“No it will just bring a new law suite,” Bakerman sighs looking into his empty tea mug.

“Public shaming does work,” I speak up. “Will it? Even if I talk about Tweedledum?”

“You need proof,” Bakerman puts his cup down and moves over in a conspiratorial fashion. “Have a few mini bugs placed in their house and record them for a month. Then you will have evidence.”

“Okay sounds fun,” I wink at him. “I’ll get their place bugged next time I’m in there. Or get the kids to do it. Or I know people who know people.”

“I am going shopping now,” Bakerman gets up slowly. “You could just ask her to clarify the rumour which she will deny but might think about.”

“Ok will do,” I say reluctantly as I can’t see myself ever having this conversation ever again.

“Ok have fun,” Bakerman waves after me as I make my way out of his atelier, back into the fresh spring air outside. I will always marvel at Bakerman’s ability to match his coaching strategies to each client for maximum success. His fever seems to have left together with the negativity he just spun out. I could almost visually see him releasing it all as he exhaled. I inhale the fresh spring air and take in the fresh energy of the sun, allowing it to light the way to a brand-new era.

* Disclaimer : Any resemblance between the fictional characters in this story and any persons, living or dead, is a miracle by chance more than by choice.

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To read a man’s real feelings, do this #TheOneThatGotAway

Dorothy follows up on our midnight conversation with a morning check-up visit. I hand her a lovely cup of coffee to start out our day with a caffeine boost.

 

“Good morning, sunshine. Did you sleep well?” I smile at her as I slowly sip my coffee.

“Good morning. Yes I did sleep well. How about you?” Dorothy is eyeing me and making internal assessments of how I look and am acting.

“I did too,” I continue smiling as the kids get ready to leave for school. “Are you doing anything nice today?”

“That’s good. Did your hockey stick keep you warm?” Dorothy teases me. “I am going to pick up Alicia and spend the day with her.”

“Winston was having horrible thoughts so he came into my bed,” I tell her as I nod in my eldest son’s direction. “That sounds wonderful. Isn’t she at school today?”

“She is not feeling well.” Dorothy informs me of her youngest daughter.

“Oh bless her,” I sigh compassionately. “Make it better then.”

“Are you having a happy day?” Dorothy looks me over as she is just about to leave.

“Yes?” I say dubiously. I don’t feel like complaining today. “Yes. I’ll say yes. Yes.”

I take a moment to collect myself and look as confident as I can for Dorothy’s scrutinizing eyes. “Go and be a mommy. See you soon.”

“Very good. At the office today?” Dorothy asks as she kisses me goodbye.

“Yes.” I smile proudly as I watch her walk out of my front door.

 

Dorothy is obviously not completely convinced that I am doing well, as she made a point of dropping by in the evening when I got home from work. And she’s right. Dorothy finds me in the kitchen obsessing over a chat conversation with Mr Threesome.

 

“We can’t be just friendship. He remembers too much!” I wail at her.

“Good. Make him work for the cookie.” Dorothy is going to spell out the rules for me now, is she? “Did you have a chat with him?”

“Yes well a bit via Whatsapp.” I tell her with a pout on my face.

“Have you made a date yet?” Dorothy prods on.

“No,” Disappointment is visible on my face now. “He’s not really asking. Well he suggested something about evenings. But I brushed it off.”

“Ah. He is testing to see what you want.” Dorothy gives me an all-knowing look.

“You think?” I look at her incredulously. After all, Dorothy’s love life is a complete disaster, so she knows how it’s not done.

“Tell him you want the whole deal.” Dorothy goes on with a tone far too wise for her age.

“This is very strange.” I ponder. “I did tell him that.”

“And what did he say?” Dorothy says with one raised eyebrow.

“Shall I show you the conversation?” I ask hesitantly. “Or I’ll just read out his answers for you and then you figure it out. All of the following are from Paul. Yes and no.  depends what you mean by free. I have a girlfriend if that is what you mean. I’ ll never be.” 

I can see that just reading out his messages isn’t really helping Dorothy to understand what’s going on. So I clarify : “He’ll never be happy.”

“You will never be his girlfriend?” Dorothy asks with deep concern.

“No, I just told you. He’ll never be happy.” I am getting annoyed now that she’s not following what’s happening. Dorothy and all her behavioural wisdom. I go on reading out Paul’s messages, leaving out my own responses. “Problem with choices is you only find out afterwards.”

“Tell him that’s true!” Dorothy is suddenly having fun.

“What’s true, the choices or the happy?” I ask her looking up from my iPhone. Then I continue reading the next reply from Paul. “They have one.  Best version was the one in the early 90s.

And for Dorothy’s benefit, I translate what Paul meant : “His kids have a happy farther.”

“Wait I can’t follow. Choices can be changed.” Dorothy looks very confused.

“Ah OK, here’s the entire conversation.” I give in as I hand her my iPhone. “Read it for yourself.”

“What is the best version in the early 90’s?” Dorothy asks as she greedily accepts my iPhone and indulges in reading the exchange.

“I’m finding him hard to figure out.” I muse as my eyes dream off into the distance. “I kind of forgot about the kinky stuff. Not really good huh.” I am worried about the details Dorothy is now reading in my chat with Paul.

“Wow Fiona. What have you not done? He is interested in you but it seems you are just interested in one thing.” Dorothy gasps.

“I’m not though,” I say with a hint of shame about what Dorothy has just read. “I’m not interested in just one thing. I’m not. It’s not good and I can’t erase the past.” I give Dorothy a faint hint of a smile, trying to cover up for what she just read about the wild sexual past of her now very respectable friend.

“Why discuss it like you can’t wait to repeat it?” Dorothy asks me with reproach.

“I’m not!” I shout a little louder than I intended to. “It’s just funny to remember.”

 

I should know better than to turn to Dorothy for advice on matters concerning the heart. She ignores the rules. She thinks she’s the exception, not the rule. That’s her problem.

What I want you to remember, dear reader, is that ultimately, you are the one for somebody. We spend a lot of our lives looking for love. There is nothing wrong with this and, in fact, finding the right person at the right time is something close to a miracle. However, it is important to realize that in the absence of such love, we can very safely rely upon ourselves for love and self-care. We carry within us everything we need to know true love on our paths to self-realization.

So when we find ourselves looking for love on our path, simply ask, let go, and wait patiently, an answer will come. Don’t look outside yourself for teachers and guides.

 

What do you think? Do you play the love game by the rules? Let me know in the comments below.

* Disclaimer : Any resemblance between the fictional characters in this story and any persons, living or dead, is a miracle by chance more than by choice.

How to read a person’s real feelings and intentions #TheOneThatGotAway

Yes, dear readers, I am still on the phone with Dorothy. I’m getting tired, my head is heavy, but happy to have been able to talk to somebody about my inner demons.

 

Mr Threesome isn’t suggesting a new threesome date,” I complain. “The Marta seaside hotel Eric mix-up is not fun and no coincidence looking back.”

“Yes. Maybe he has changed his mind or he thinks he is meeting me as the other party,” Dorothy reflects.

At this I giggle again : “Well he’s in for a surprise!”

“Really not. Why no coincidence?” Dorothy wants to know.

“Mr Threesome can’t get me,” I state defensively. “Marta cancelled… same hotel same day… come on, very fishy!”

“Is she also into dungeon sex?” Dorothy asks the obvious.

“She never talked about sex,” I tell her to truth. “That was part of her dark past.”

“No erotic conversations?” Dorothy asks to be certain.

“Nooooo!” I exclaim.

“Did you tell her about Eric?” Dorothy enquires.

“Yoga, sprituality and meditation. That’s what we talked about.” I state again. “And no, I didn’t tell her about Eric.”

“Does she know you know Eric?” Dorothy pushes further.

“I just briefly mentioned something about a burn-out.” I explain. “You see this Japanese company wanted to pay for my trip to Japan.”

“Yes I remember,” Dorothy acquiesces.

“And Marta couldn’t understand why I refused,” I recount.

“Did she know the full story?” Dorothy is trying to make me see the light.

“No,” I say reluctantly. “I never shared that.”

“Ok then I understand,” Dorothy says cheerfully.

“I still don’t like talking abou Eric,” I admit. “It gets me very anxious every time.”

“He is dead to you.” Dorothy tells me firmly.

“What do you understand?” I want to know.

“That she couldn’t understand,” Dorothy goes on.

“Dead except that he lurks at the back of my mind,” I don’t like admitting this, but it is so. “I want to heal from all of that.”

“Time to kill him off metaphorically,” Dorothy advises me.

“I thought I had peace of mind but I don’t.” My mood is getting darker by the minute. “How?”

“Make a ritual.” Dorothy tells me coolly.

“Like what?” I want to know. “I could never do that alone. Will need someone to hold my hand.”

“Well take something that represents Eric to you. Turn him or it into a Viking and burn it. As you burn it you say the following. I loved you, I forgive you and I forget you. I give you back to the universe in good hands and wish you everything if the best on your journey. Good bye for ever. Do this on the night of a new moon at 10.30 pm.” Dorothy says almost in one breath and with an air of authority in the occult.

A Viking?” I ask her. “So Marc didn’t get me pregnant and then left me because Eric told him to?”

“If you have a photo that would be best. Viking burials were done on a long boat or raft and set on fire.” Dorothy tells me wisely. She’s referring to my strong Viking genes of course.

“Oh my, I am really sad.” I am not proud of the state I currently find myself in.

“Are you serious about Marc and Eric now?” Dorothy sounds like a mixture of worried, angry and irritated. Why do I always irritate her?

“I can get very scared at times,” I confide in her. “Not proud of this at all.”

“I know,” Dorothy susses me.

“Like the stalker in the bushes,” I remind Dorothy of my recent scary episode. “Sometimes I’m scared of going to sleep. I sleep with a hockey stick.”

“Get a dog and fire the cat.” Dorothy laughs at me.

I giggle again in reply : “I should.”

“Your kids would love a little dog,” Dorothy coaxes me to adopt the idea.

“They would too,” I support the suggestion.

“A little poodle. They are clever dogs and very protective.” Dorothy suggests.

“Yuk!” I spit out.

“Why yuk?” Dorothy asks me.

“I would like a Sheba Enu like Suzi,” I tell her. “Poodles are ugly. One bit me when I was little. It got jealous.”

“That’s as dumb as they come,” Dorothy dismisses my objections.

“Bit my wrist,” I painfully recall. “Still have the mark.”

“Ok then a dog from the shelter that chooses your kids,” Dorothy keeps steering me away from the beautiful Sheba Enu.

“Or maybe it’s a chicken pox mark.” I say thoughtfully rubbing my wrist as if I am reliving the incident from when I was 5.

“You are funny!” Dorothy’s laugh chimes down the phone.

“No no, I want a Sheba Enu like Suzi,” I confirm again. “Going to try to sleep. Thanks for putting up with me. And my stupid questions. I do realize I sound wacko, you know.”

“OK sleep tight. Stop worrying. Marta is just out for her own self gain. That’s all.” Dorothy reassures me.

“Sleep tight and wonderful dreams!” I wish Dorothy good night.

The sound of friendly kisses being blown down the phone.

 

We all have to things in our life that we don’t want to talk about. The easiest solution is to change the way we think about it.

We all have days when we are faced with our inner demons, our fears, our paranoia. At times like these, it’s easy to get into a bad mood and stay in one as we keep spiralling in the negative feedback loop in our heads. However, our bad mood will most likely make things worse. Which is why we should try to shift our attitude instead. As the song goes It ain’t what you do, it’s the way that you do it.

You can shift your attitude by considering how much you love your home and how lucky you are to have a roof over your head and food on the table. All you have to do is shift your perspective, and your attitude follows shortly behind.

 

What do you think? How do you deal with your inner demons? Let me know in the comments below.

* Disclaimer : Any resemblance between the fictional characters in this story and any persons, living or dead, is a miracle by chance more than by choice.

 

 

 

Reluctant in love #SillyCindy

After a very long telephone conversation and talking like a mad hatter, Dorothy decides to come over for a cup of tea. We’re Tuesday evening, and into some soul searching girl talk. Women share their innermost doubts and feelings with those they feel most comfortable around.

 

“I think I’m in love with Wim,” I start out cautiously whilst sipping my hot cuppa. “But at times I also think Wim finds me convenient. Which is a strange thing to think when I am very obviously not a convenient solution at all.”

“Convenient in which way?” Dorothy asks.

“Well I just go along with it all, don’t I,” I’m pointing out the obvious. “I’m always here waiting for him, one week on, one week off. Whenever it suits him, he comes. It’s not about me or what I would want.”

“That doesn’t sound very positive,” Dorothy murmers. “What about the not so convenient aspects?”

“Well obviously, I’ve had a baby with a different man. I’m complex and complaining and need lots of attention and reassuring,” again pointing out the obvious. “If it were purely about convenience and sex, then he could get that elsewhere and much cheaper. There are 100.000 Fiona’s out there, you know. I’m not unique.”

“After all this time you still don’t know?” Dorothy retorts a little reproachful. “How long have you guys been together now and just winging it?”

“Five years now,” I answer dreamily. “Five years and a bit.”

“So you’re telling me five and a half years, and still no commitment? Still not living together, not even a plan considered, and still no ring on your finger.” Dorothy spits out. “How on earth do you convince yourself that this is love and that you are not convenient?”

“We also have to face the practicalities of life and what works best for the kids,” I tell her defensively.

“No. Tell me this,” Dorothy is on her high horse now. “Was it ever considered that you move into Wim’s loft? All of you just move in together there? Was it even considered?”

“Well no…” I trail off. “His loft would be too small for all my kids and all his kids together.”

“But it wasn’t even talked about!” Dorothy half shouts. “And that’s where the inner conflict lies hidden.”

“Well tell me about your love life then,” I am pouting now. “If you know it all so better.”

“In my love life, I think that Mr Threesome just wants sex. And all the rest is rubbish I’m creating around it.”

“Well he is the third wheel so what did you expect?” I ask her. “Surely you’re not expecting him to put his life on hold while you figure things out with number 2.”

“But we’ve known each other for such a long time. More than 10 years now…” Dorothy trails off.

“I can’t speak for him as I don’t know his version of his truth,” I tell Dorothy softly. “Talking about love, my own mother doesn’t love me. End of that story.”

“OK, if you say so,” Dorothy looks at me tenderly. “Do you love her?”

“Of course I do, she’s my mother,” I reply with a bit too much zest in my gestures. “But she’s narcissistic and doesn’t know what love is. It’s always all about her. She has no notion of selfless unconditional love for her children. Her children are mere extensions of herself to serve her. As I don’t serve her, she has rejected me.”

“Not so strange then that you go on to marry a narcissistic husband,” Dorothy remarks.

“Look this is hard. I think I do know I do love Wim,” I’m starting to sound defensive despite doing my best to keep myself in check. “It’s just very scary. Don’t push me.”

“I think you are wrong about that. But it is your truth,” Dorothy gives me a very long, very intent look. Then muses on: “Mr Threesome has nothing to do with Eric.”

We look at each other and start giggling about our love life exchange of information.

“Darling, I am not pushing you anywhere,” Dorothy gives me a big smile. “My task is to make you think.”

Marta has nothing to do with Eric,” I continue the banter just a little bit more. “She just wanted me around for the money and for possible business contacts. When that didn’t materialize she dumped me.”

“Why are we talking about Eric?” Dorothy suddenly interrupts. “No one mentioned Eric.”

Eric is always lurking in my mind,” I admit sullenly. “And on yours. You brought him up.”

“I did?” Dorothy looks puzzled for a moment.

“Why do you say I’m wrong about being in love with Wim?” I’m feeling very hurt at this point. “I don’t get it.”

“Oh my, is that the time?” Dorothy suddenly looks at her watch and jumps up. “No. I have go. I will pick this up after lunch tomorrow.”

“Bon appetit,” I call after her as she dashes out of my kitchen. I just hate it when she starts a subject and then leaves me to think too much about it.

 

Life is full of decision. And the choices we make are the factors which determine our present and our future. Constantly confronted with the test of our ability to make good decisions. How do you do that?

There is so much pressure on us daily to decide, to chose and then live with the consequences. If you make no decision, don’t be fooled. Somebody else will make the decision for you and the outcome might not be what you had wished for. So know what you want, say it, own it, and then go for it.

When you have found your life purpose and when you are fully living your dharma, you will find yourself centered in your deepest truth. This means that from this state of being, the decisions you take are all lined up to serve you first. You know when you have made the right decision for you as you will feel a huge vibrant serving of pleasure and meaning.

But it is certainly not for everyone. Run, run, run far away if you are still wallowing in the depts of indecision.

 

What do you think? What is your definition of love? Let me know in the comments below.

Good and naughty #SillyCindy

It’s Monday evening when I receive a call from Dorothy. I haven’t seen her in quite some time and must admit I have been worried about her. Worried, and to be honest also lonely. Motherhood has these quirky moments where we adore our littles but it also leaves us feeling isolated. Which is why your support network is so important.

 

“Darling, I have a nosey alert,” Dorothy starts off. “I just bumped into Xavier here at work. He’s giving trainings or something of the sort.”

I pause for a silent moment. Dorothy broke up with Xavier a year or two ago now. And I’m still feeling a little hurt that she hasn’t mentioned how much she misses me.

“How are you?” Dorothy must sense my irritation because she interjects some polite conversation. “Did you have a nice weekend?”

“I am fine,” I answer gingerly. “Yes weekend was fine and yours? Give Xavier my regards.”

“Nice weekend too,” Dorothy plays along. “Been thinking a lot about our conversations lately.”

Ah so she does remember I exist then. “Really? Good thoughts I hope,” I continue.

“Yes pretty happy weekend,” Dorothy goes on. “How are things your end?”

“I think I love Wim,” I blurt out. I refuse to make this conversation all about Dorothy and her many disappointments in love. “But also love my freedom. Hated being married to David.”

“I understand,” Dorothy replies to truth. I know she’s holding back. Dorothy has a profound disliking for my ex-husband. “I am looking forward to that threesome, but dont want an affaire afterwards.”

“Huh?” I sound astonished. “You’re really going in for a threesome? I thought that was just philosophical talk?”

“I’m a very scared person and tend to exaggerate everything too black or too white.” Dorothy throws in as a reply. “So I need coaching to stop being a chicken.”

“And a threesome is going to help you get over your innate fears of commitment and intimacy?” I am slightly mocking her, but not too much. Don’t want to hurt any feelings.

“I need guts. Excuse the pun, hope your Wim can’t hear us.” Dorothy goes on. “Like the lion in the Wizard of Oz.”

“OK, well so far these are good enough thoughts,” I have learned by now that it is often more beneficial to go along with Dorothy’s wacko ideas for a moment, before bringing her back into reality. “And yes you do.”

“And you need to stop lying to yourself and stop hedging your bets.” Dorothy snaps back. “Also had a dream about the angels again. So creepy!” Dorothy suddenly changes the subject.

I sigh. Sometimes it’s difficult to have a coherent conversation with her. “I am not familiar with your angel dream.”

“You dont remember me telling you about my angel dream six years ago?” Dorothy almost sounds hurt that I can’t remember. “I was playing around on graves, and suddenly I found myself surrounded by all these children. They were not my children but dark angel children who wouldn’t let me go. And I woke up screaming: NANNY! NANNY! MOMMY! MOMMY! MARC! MARC!”

Silence as I ponder the possible meanings of her dream. I just love Jungian dream analysis. Being a bad listener, I misuse the pause to jump back to the previous subject. “Like what? Give me an example.”

Dorothy picks up the thread of our previous subject: “Well either you are or you are not. Trying to be both is hedging your bets.”

“I am what?” I spit out. “Being both what?”

Good and naughty,” Dorothy answer coolly.

“Being both Suzi and Joti at the same time, you mean like that?” I want to know, and then I add: ”I’m good.”

“If you like,” Dorothy sigh again. “Except I don’t know what you mean.”

“Suzi sees things very negative, more negative than it really is. Jo sees things over positive, better than it really is.” I pipe up.

“Ah yes like that.” Dorothy concedes.

“I’m good,” I state adamantly. “Not doing naughties.”

“Words like ‘I think’ or ‘I will try it’ or ‘I want’ don’t have much meaning other than to start a decision.” Dorothy explains in turn. “Either you are in love or you are not. Trying to be in love and be free to do what you want will only rush the situation into confusion and you risk losing your soul.”

 

I guess we are all familiar with waking up to the fact that we are not living our lives in accordance to what we had hoped and dreamed. Planning out your life step by step doesn’t work. We need to be able to adapt to each change and curveball that life throws our way. Yet at the same time it is sensible to set goals for yourself and to hold on to your desires as a compass indicating the general direction of your life pursuits.

We experience conflict arrising within ourselves when we lie. The worst part is lying to yourself. Not wanting to see reality for what it truly is. There is value in calling a cat “a cat”. Giving things their proper name has healing powers in it. Put whatever situation you are facing in front of you and observe it to your best ability. Once you have discerned what it is exactly that is going on, you can give it a name and then deal with it for what it truly is.

Anyway, don’t create extra problems for yourself by worrying too much.

 

What do you think? Is it possible to live a fulfilling and meaningful life when you are both good and naughty at the same time? Let me know in the comments below.

Dark intuition

“Darling, I’ve been thinking,” Dorothy starts out carefully. “Our conversation yesterday. Some things just don’t make sense.”

Uhuh, she’s on to me. Still trying to sound innocent, I reply: “What do you mean?”

“Well for starters, what is so spooky about two people randomly dying?” She hits spot on.

“Both of them organized what is known as ‘pink ballets’. You know, sex parties, orgies, that kind of stuff. That’s the common denominator.” I blurt it out. There is no easy way to say this. “Rumour had it that they knew too much.”

“Oh sugar, no way!” Dorothy cries out. “Illegal stuff then?”

“It was all supposed to be under the form of consenting adults. That was rule number one.” I re-assure her. “But I’ve seen Philippe’s computer. He showed me stuff that I found on the edge of reason.”

“He showed you? Why did he do that?” She asks almost incredulous. “What did you see?”

“I don’t know why. Maybe he liked me. People have a tendency to tell me all their weird stuff. Maybe they feel at ease around me. In any case, it freaks me out.” I tell her. “I can’t tell you what I saw on that computer. I won’t. But I can tell you that some things were definitely over-the-top, illegal and without consent.”

“Like illuminati stuff?” Dorothy probes further.

“Like ‘Eyes Wide Shut’, but then corrupted like only Belgians can do.” I answer coolly.

“How did you get into such a mess to start with?” Dorothy now wants to know.

“Oh I wasn’t part of anything like that, darling.” I state rather alarmed.

“You’re lying to me!” Dorothy pouts. Then she’s quick to change the subject. “What about Fight Club? You flinched when I mentioned that. I saw it.”

“You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” I remark. “You’ve seen everything, even the stuff I’d rather you didn’t notice.”

“Come on, spill the beans.” Dorothy coaxes me on.

“Surprisingly I find myself back in the same place as some seven years ago.” I am searching a way to start off this storyline. “I knew a fierce fighter back then. Black belt. That lesson in Krav Maga sparked up something long forgotten.”

“You’re still not making any sense.” Dorothy drawls.

“I don’t expect I am.” I look at her intently. “You’re asking me too many questions which make me uneasy.”

“But why?” Dorothy gasps.

“Tell me darling, how am I supposed to keep this world a beautiful place for my children?” I ask her. “Knowing what I know, and having lived the experiences I have. How can I tell them to go out there and lead wonderful lives? I have seen the depths people will stoop to. The things humans do to other humans. What lenghts men will go to to satisfy their sexual desires.”

I pause for a moment. Dorothy is looking at me expectantly to continue.

“I like me life ‘Little House on the Prairie’. I like to keep myself to myself. I don’t expect people to understand.” I go on. “I pity those people who are continuously seeking the next best thing, who think there is ‘more’ to life. Who are so dissatisfied with the simple life they take for granted. You see, that’s where the true treasure lies in my eyes. The quiet, ordinary, routine of the normal and simple life.”

“I see,” and Dorothy instantly casts her eyes down. “But you liked the fighting with your instructor…”

“Yes, I told you, I have killer whale genes. It’s part of who I am. Now that I know that, I can control it. And make this secret calling more easy for my children to understand and to keep in check, so that they can also lead happy and fulfilling lives.” I continue watching her carefully for a reaction. “That medium I saw last spring was right about that. People are scared of me.”

“I’m not.” Dorothy looks up at me. “I think you’re lovely.”

“Ah bless you!” I smile at her. “A friend of mine, Jean-Marie pointed out that people who don’t mean me well have a tendancy of dying. It was a joke of course, but I do hear the doubt when I tell the story of how Graham died just a couple of months after I told him I wanted nothing more to do with him.”

“Noooo…” is all Dorothy can say.

“Family karma, that’s what.” I tell her. “Like my habit of having affaires.”

“You’re having an affaire!” Dorothy sounds angry. “Fiona, what’s going on with you?”

“I’m sexting,” I admit. “And Wim knows about it.”

“But why?” Dorothy seems to be on repeat this evening. I’m sure she’s starting to regret all her questions by now.

“People start looking around when they haven’t had sex for two months.” I state the bit of psychology I know about. “Besides, I heard from Dory that you’re chasing boys. And you never told me anything about that. So your turn now to spill the beans.”

Giggles and gossip. A lovely girlie evening.

 

To conclude this post of introspection, I have also been told several times that I am enclined to make myself bigger than I am. Therefore, do remember I am only a small blonde lady, and I’m all soft and very easily hurt. I like applying a soft touch to life and all those around me. Love and light.

 

What do you think? Let me know in the comments below.

*** No disclaimer.

Women talking about threesomes

Dorothy and I have spent the start of our girls evening cooking a fresh meal together. We made coconut marinated chicken with a pommegrenate salad and volcano rice. Delicious happy food, fit for the regal women we are. Our all-women dinner, as usual, revolved around sex, relationships, and desire.

“Darling, how long have you been together with Wim now?” Dorothy asks me a little too matter of factly.

“Oh I believe we’ve been together now for 5 years now.” My brain is frantically trying to remember which year it was when we started dating. Was it 2011 or 2012… surely not 2013?

“And you still want to make love to him?” Dorothy asks, “Wouldn’t you welcome somebody else to do so?”

“Oh…” her question has caught me off guard. There are many issues entwined in such few words: sex, monogamy and infidelity. “Of course I still love being intimate with my man. That’s what I find so wonderful about our relationship: the infinite amount of passion we share.”

“Yes, but what about lust and desire?” Dorothy wonders.

“But that’s just it. I do still lust for him. I desire him and am desired by him in return. I want him.” I am happy to share this. “It’s so liberating to have the freedom to have regular intercourse. It’s one of the basic needs, you know.”

“Yes, but it’s much more than that.” Dorothy continues. “It’s also an expression of who you are and what you want, from life and in the bedroom.”

 

“Yes, but the freedom to express this.” I emphasise. “I’ve heard from my man, and others, that they had the misconception that women don’t desire.”

“Really?” Dorothy looks at me in amazement. “I thought that was nothing but a myth. You know, the woman who never wants sex. That it was part of what she thought was her wifely duty.”

“I know, you just have to talk to your girlfriends to know it’s not true.” I confirm with a wink. “I mean, it takes more than sex to make a woman happy.”

“Yes, pussy power.” Dorothy cheers me on.

“In the old days, like my mother, women derived their power and value from their desirability, not from the activation of their own desire or own will.” I’ve read this somewhere. “But we don’t need men anymore for just pure reproduction. We want them now for connection and pleasure.”

“I hear you, darling.” Dorothy lifts her glass of bubbles to me. “Have you ever had a threesome?”

Her question couldn’t have hit me harder than lightening in broad daylight. I stare at her blankly.

“I would really like to try a threesome.” Dorothy adds on softly.

“Well don’t look at me.” I decide to get that straight immediately. “I’m really not interested.”

“No silly, not with you.” Dorothy giggles.

“Oh… ?” I’m almost feeling rejected and wounded now.

“No, I’d like to try a threesome with two men.” Dorothy precises.

“Where does that idea come from?” I ask her sceptically.

My friend Peter talks about it quite often.” Dorothy explains. “It just sounds so liberating and deliciously exciting. I’ve been thinking a lot about it lately.”

“You’ve been popping too many of my love capsules, that’s what.” I give her a stern look.

“Maybe…” Dorothy doesn’t deny. “But I’d still like to try it.”

“Do you have any idea what you’re up against?” I want to make the reality of her whimsical idea clear to her. “Two men, that’s quite a handful, excuse the pun.”

“I know, I know.” Dorothy gets that dreamy gaze in her eyes. “That’s what I find so appealing about the idea. All these hands on me. And all this attention and desire and lust, multiplied and all exclusively for me. I’ll be the embodiment of a sex goddess at least for one evening.”

“Have you thought practically about it though. How on earth you think you’re body is going to be up to all that action.” I’m being realistic again. “Peter has had slightly more practise at this than you have.”

“What do you mean?” Dorothy is getting defensive. “I’ve got a healthy appetite. Besides, your love capsules will do the rest.”

“Darling, you’ll need more than those love capsules if you’re planning a threesome with two men.” This is just bitter reality.

“Oh do you really think so?” Dorothy asks almost in disbelief.

“Hell yes, you’d better ask Peter for something stronger.” I urge her. “Like some Poppers. I hear those are supposed to do wonders. Never tried myself though.”

“And where am I supposed to get that?” Dorothy looks at me in panic.

The dark net?” I offer. “Come on, a woman as resourceful as you are shouldn’t have a hard time getting your hands on some.”

“Oh okay, good thinking.” Dorothy sighs with relief. “Just wondering where I’m going to find two men for just one evening. What would you do?”

“I’d hire somebody.” I tell her firmly.

“WTF?” Dorothy exclaims. “Like a gigolo?”

“Yes absolutely.” I look at her calmly. “That’s supposing I would actually have that intention. But yes, I would hire somebody.”

“But why?” Dorothy wants to know. “Isn’t that part of the fun? Seducing somebody?”

“Yes, but in my situation, I’m in a long term relationship and I would like to remain in my relationship.” I point out. “I value my partner too much to want to jeopardise what we have together. So if we hire somebody, it is clear that there is no personal connection there. No secret contact after the deed is done. Just a clean one-night deal.”

“Oh really…” Dorothy is eager to hear more.

“And we’d have to have very clear rules about what is acceptable for each partner. What would be considered a hard limit.” I go on. “I’m also thinking that whatever I do, at one point in time, I would have to pay it forward.”

“Meaning?” Dorothy hasn’t caught on yet.

“Well, meaning that one day, my partner might want the same but in reverse.” I say with nonchalance. “So whatever I take, I have to be willing to give back.”

“Wow…” Dorothy utters in admiration. “You’ve really got it all figured out. You’ve really thought out well how to fulfil your dreams and desires.”

“Oh no you don’t!” I’m fast to catch Dorothy in her tracks. “I was talking hypothetically. What I would do if I were you. If I were to plan a threesome, that’s how I think I would go about it. I’m not in the least interested in doing anything of the sort. I’m happy with my love life.”

“Are you sure?” Dorothy is eying me carefully. “You made it sound really interesting and appealing.”

“You know Dorothy, just like there can be too many cooks in a kitchen. I want the intimacy I share with my partner to remain uniquely our own experience.” I inform her.

Dorothy remains quiet as she closes her eyes and seems to be enjoying our healthy food. But somehow, I know better.

 

What do you think? Would you consider having a threesome with your partner? Let me know in the comments below.