What Starting Zumba Classes Taught Me So Far…

Oh yeah, I can step in place and in sync, this feels good, I’m all ready to DO THIS, this should be fun…Oh, wait, she moved sideways, OK, oh, now it’s the other side, was I too slow? What is she doing with her feet? How come mine aren’t doing the same? Am I spinning the wrong way again? WHAT’S GOING ON?

When I try to do that leaning forward, chest shaking thing, nothing shakes, I just take turns rapidly moving my shoulders back and forth. It happens by itself. On the other hand, any booty-shaking seems to happen very easily and with a lot of joy. It also strongly feels like there’s, ah, much more to shake than with my upper body, and I can’t decide whether this is funny or disconcerting. Maybe it just is.

The moment the trainer says the choreography is simple, my brain goes into overdrive with its “Complicated” setting, but they do say that resistance is what makes you work harder. She adds some theatrics that go in line with the lyrics of the song, which kind of brings out my headphone party dance/ acting skills (you obviously don’t just sing along to stuff, you illustrate it with your moves), and hey, this is that song from that IISuperwomanII video, and is it actually about taxis…?

When you’re concentrating on doing some semblance of proper steps and not cuffing the girl next to you with your waving arms, you can’t really whoop. Sorry. But please be assured that I am actually able to let it all out.

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Women Apologizing: My Personal Experience

Note: This was an essay I originally wrote for a call for submissions on this particular topic, but after I had produced it, I discovered I didn’t qualify for the terms and conditions since I reside in Europe. Buuuut, why waste writing I’d invested in? So here it is. Obviously it’s only one viewpoint of a vast ocean of a subject, but this is what came to my mind upon facing the question about my sorries.

I am known as the serial apologizer in my family. At least I think I was until as recently as a year ago, when I felt like I started getting a handle on it. It had been almost like my own conversation signature that had to pop up at least once a day on any subject. My family helped me a lot in that area by the simple action of being affectionate and joking when my apologies were made in relation to harmless things, like putting something in what I thought was the wrong place or forgetting to confirm a date for a gathering way, way in advance. They would even anticipate when I was about to say sorry and calmly ask me not to.

I think the way I did it before first grew from the combination of taking my words and actions towards others seriously (sometimes too seriously), wanting to show consideration and viewing an apology as a validation of the fact that I was paying attention, present, capable of being honest. I’ve also definitely been the person who apologized automatically when she was bumped into on the street. I’ve apologized to diffuse what I thought was about to be an unexpected explosive reaction to something I did, since it was easy for me. I’ve apologized to stave off or break up fights about small things. Finally, I hope I also apologized when I thought I really did have to, for what I considered to be tactless words on my part or hurting someone’s feelings.

With time I tied apologizing to being able to assume responsibility for words and actions, something I tend to measure people by. Saying sorry for bigger things, for that which actually brings someone undeserved pain and suffering, should definitely be analyzed from within yourself, practiced and cultivated. Understanding that type of sorry doesn’t always happen overnight, and it carries weight that you need to be able to feel and then let go, remembering the impact of it.

For some saying sorry is just a turn of phrase. I found myself imitating that for a while, then I wanted to stop because it didn’t coincide with my personality and the distinctions I made about apologies. I began paying attention to my wording and in those cases where I would have previously said sorry, I substituted it with a polite statement of facts. “I can’t make that day because of so and so, but how about next week?” It was also a question of not succumbing to what felt like tiny lies. I wasn’t sorry about following a plan that had been arranged first, right? And neither was the other person I was talking to. So why even say so?

I guess I just stop myself more, take that extra second, as much as possible in the moment, on any level to evaluate whether I do actually need to make an apology. I think a lot of it is also connected to what I don’t feel apologetic about anymore, because I accept it for myself and I know that it’s not wrong.

The Moon Sister by Lucinda Riley

I switched off the light, and lay there thinking how all my sisters teased me about being the spiritual snowflake of the family. I couldn’t really blame them, because when I was young I didn’t understand that I was ‘different’, so I’d just speak about the things that I saw or felt.

I don’t remember exactly how I discovered The Seven Sisters books by Lucinda Riley – the cover of the first one might have been popping up in various social media feeds until I read about it and got curious, but a few months later here I am, finished reading book five, The Moon Sister, in this absorbing, detailed series with a myriad of stories about six sisters separately adopted and lovingly raised by a mysterious man in a beautiful Swiss mansion. The women are all named after the the Seven Sisters constellation and The Moon Sister is about the second youngest, Taygete, or Tiggy d’Aplièse.

It’s Christmas shortly into the novel, and it was also Christmas when I opened the book, which strengthened the feeling of being immersed in Tiggy’s experiences early on. The story sweeps between rural Scotland in the winter and sun-drenched Spain (both past and present), two contrasting countries, but with common themes of second sight and intuition coming alive through the characters living there. Tiggy is open to what comes her way, all the while listening to her instincts with quiet acceptance. She’s calmly assured in her introversion, yet she’s sociable and empathetic at the same time.

Like her other sisters, Tiggy is not only discovering the (as always mesmerizing and rooted in exciting history) truth of her parentage and heritage, but also learning to be truly independent while remaining connected to the people she grew up with as a family. She has a distinctive voice and it’s easy to hear. Tiggy’s book is satisfyingly thick, like the other novels in the series, and I asked myself why it reads so quickly, besides obviously being a very engaging and well written story. The answer is, perhaps, that the novel is not overdone with length in individual scenes, even when we think there could be more said – this works with packing in multiple storylines and timelines in one book. The history in the novel is not heavy, while based on fact and clearly excellent research, it conveys what it was, namely a real life lived by Tiggy’s ancestor at the time.

The landscapes in Scotland and the views from Granada in Spain, as we see the city through Tiggy’s eyes, come alive with the same exhiliration that she feels. It’s easy to imagine walking down paths and streets with her as she comes closer to uncovering the story of her birth, and there’s a disarming quality about her kindness and introspective connection to the world around her. As with the previous books, I might just have to go back and re-read after a while.

 

 

 

Swimming Snippets: Pool Ponderings

Soooo… I was swimming today and arrived at the thought that there seem to be two types of lap swimmers.

Type number one acts like they own the pool. People wade in and throw themselves into swimming laps without a glance in any direction, because the idea of other swimmers in the vicinity is just ludicrous, I guess. Preferred swimming styles include backstroke or the front crawl, and of course goggles and swimming caps add to the feeling that it’s just you in the pool. Get out of the way, all you other peasants with your heads above water!

Type number two carefully steps in, moves to the side so as not to be in the way of anyone reaching the end of their lap, then spends a few seconds looking around, picking a lane. They then elegantly lower their body into the water and strike out, taking care to keep enough distance between themselves and the feet and hands of other swimmers. If, God forbid, they do end up brushing limbs with someone passing by, they actually take the time to turn their head and at least mouth “Sorry”.

Type number one are also frequently noisy swimmers. You might not see them once you’re in the water and focusing on your own stroke, but you’ll hear them. I understand there’s a lot of action involved in what they do, there’s water around and that certain physical manifestations in the form of sounds escaping them is unavoidable. But blowing your nose, sniffing and clearing your throat with unrestrained relish that carries perfectly thanks to pool acoustics, and all this while swimming, seems a bit much.

Meanwhile, type twos are basically this:

I have picked my side…

 

As We Say Farewell to 2018…

I find myself thinking even more of not only the things I did, but what I felt at various times of the year following events and experiences.

I shed way more happy tears than sad ones and that was reassuring, so the acceptance that I weep when something good happens in life definitely stays with me, as does not holding those tears back. In most of these situations it’s OK to cry, after all. Don’t apologize for happy tears. And there’s still the convenience of crying in the cinema (I’m easily moved, even if it’s a film I’ve seen before – go, art!) if I’ve had a shortage of waterworks.

Among the things that made me weep was kindness towards me, genuine, pure, from the heart, unconditional kindness, especially in hard moments I kept to myself, when people were still not obliged to be kind and were so without knowing.

That’s enough tears!

There were many solutions to what I thought were tangled problems, and the solutions were there all along, mostly contained in, as always, facing facts, and then, sometimes, writing them down. Notebooks are the best.

Other philosophical moments include many confirmations in various situations of this too shall pass, realizations we weren’t lacking something when we thought we were, what drained my inner peace and what replenished it – it’s vital to keep learning how to feed your energy, mental and physical.

I am and always will be a family person.

I want to grab the moments that feel like they define me (again and again) and register that which resonates with me because it’s closest to who I am.

I want to be brave.

I want many things that I feel I’ve had a test run of in 2018, things I hadn’t even expected, and can now proceed with “for real” in 2019.

For a long time now I’ve been making decisions and setting goals instead of resolutions. New Year’s Eve isn’t the only time of year I do this, by the way, I also like to do this for my birthdays. But there’s still something uniquely monumental about the approaching new year, because it affects everyone, I guess. Goals and decisions feel like a better internal setting for me than resolutions, maybe because they can be adapted or changed depending on how the year unfolds, and I do like to leave room for life to work its own magic, despite my extensive list-making.

So, as we say farewell to 2018, I will add thanks for all that has been given to me, hope that I have given back, quietly and sincerely acknowledge all those who have added to the size of my heart, and leave that which has played its part in moving forward, but which I don’t need to take with me into 2019.

For auld lang syne…

 

Once a YA Reader…

I happened on a Goodreads post about ways to know you’re a YA reader, and felt inspired to make my own notes, because, yeeees, I belong to that tribe (among other genres that I pursue). My thoughts tended to drift in the direction of asking why one might remain a YA reader even after (possibly) exiting the general target audience.Young, frequently teenage characters arrive at decisions and gain insights we’re still glad about at our age (whichever that may be), with the advantage of settling crucial life lessons way before their 30s and often in a short period of time jam-packed with social activities or even supernatural events.If it’s fantasy, characters might be of age earlier than us, or age might not be a determining factor at all, otherwise circumstances are introduced which render the character able to do all sorts of things that wouldn’t have been possible if every single law and reality check went through. But that’s why it’s fiction!

Unlike for your own adolescence or early 20s, there’s actually a script for this one.

YA characters are always on the cusp of something breathtaking, dramatic or even life-changing in any setting – bring it on.

 

 

 

Santa Baby covered by Lindsey Stirling

Both the song and the music video have been up for a while, but I’ve been listening and watching on repeat, that’s how much I love how this cover by Lindsey Stirling turned out! And now it’s time to pour out my feelings. My favourite line is I want a yacht and, really, that’s not a lot, just the way she says it with that saucy look, and the dance moves match it perfectly. It might become a daily quote. Oh, and I want that shower cap with sequins on it and, really, that’s not a lot. Of sequins. I just love how they catch the light…

Focus!

Since being uploaded on November 29 the music video has already had almost 2.4 million views at the time of writing this blog post, way to go Lindsey! There are so many things I love about the video, where to start…

Lindsey co-directed and her trademark attention to detail and concepting, not to mention her individuality, are all immediately obvious. From the colour palette switching between pinks, lilacs, whites and blues in various intensity, to the nods to her inspiration sources which she talks about in this behind the scenes video, it’s three and a half minutes packed with gorgeous, fun images.

The opening notes that repeat themselves throughout the song click at once with the imagery of  floating soap bubbles, balloons and lights and lend a modern touch to a classic. And then Lindsey sings! She does, and what a great job. In this inspiring interview on the Build series she talks about her vocal work in particular, saying that she ended up liking her voice on the demos she recorded at first and sticking with it.

I love her confidence as well as the whole tone of her singing, how it ties with the music in her interpretation, the balanced execution and the coquettish, feminine vibe. The fact that she went on to do her own vocals also makes me incredibly excited for what she will produce in the future. In addition, she spoke about the challenge of covering a beloved Christmas classic that many others have covered before as well and coming up with a way to do it that had her mark on it.

Just when you’ve managed to digest it is indeed Lindsey singing Santa Baby, she makes my jaw drop even more by dancing en pointe in ballet shoes! She’s been known not just for her mind-blowing simultaneous violin playing and dancing, but also as an amazingly talented, sharp dancer, especially after her season on Dancing with the Stars in 2017. Her movements are precise and beautiful, you can tell she’s trained, but at the same time the choreography doesn’t look studied or mechanical. Her enjoyment of what she is doing shines through in the scenes, which I’m in awe of even more now that I have a (very) slight inkling of how hard ballet sequences can actually be.

Been an angel all year… Merry Christmas!