The Meaning of Life

“I want you to write down three goals you have for this year,” said my year three primary school teacher, handing out black sheets of paper.

As an unusually serious and highly inquisitive eight year old, with very spiritual parents, I already had a very clear goal in mind: To find out the meaning of life.

I just knew that all I had to do was find the answer to this one simple question, and then everything would makes total sense. Then, I could happily go about living the rest of my life.

So while other kids wrote that they wanted to learn their times-tables, I wrote (in complete sincerity) “To find out the meaning of life” and left the other two goals blank. Any other goal failed in comparison to this one.

Our goals were collected and nothing was ever mentioned of it. I’d expected as much. My teacher was way too unhappy to possibly be enlightened on the true meaning of her existence. My parents didn’t seem to know either. Although mum did try to explain it:

“You see,” she said, one hand holding a crystal and the other giving reiki to her left breast. “In your past lives, you may have needed to learn something…” - And then she lost me. Listening to her talk in new age speak, sounded vaguely like tearing up cotton-wool balls  and stirring them into a jar of honey. It just didn’t make sense to me.

I needed a real answer, damn it! I wanted hard evidence and proven facts.

Why were we here? What happens when we die? Why are some people born into terrible circumstances, and others spared?

Such questions have plagued me for as long as I can remember, and as a result, I never cared too much for small talk. If someone asked me about the weather, I’d draw a blank. “Tell me about love!” I’d have shouted back, if I wasn’t so shy.

Yearning only to learn about the deeper things in life, meant I found school rather boring.  Instead of listening to my teachers, I’d drift off into 'Ally world'… where I’d imagine the teacher jumping up on the desk and doing a disco dance! Then the whole room would join in! And I would be on a trapeze, swinging from the ceiling, and colored lights would be flashing!!!

It’s unfortunate I never learned to listen. It’s a skill that could have come in handy when conversing with people. It also would have made doing well in school a lot easier. (You can also see why I very much love the show Glee!)

As I aged, my search for meaning lost it’s vigor, and my goals started to resemble a sense of normality. Get a boyfriend, learn how to spell, exercise. Watching Oprah also helped, and on her recommendation - yes, I bought the book Eat Love Pray.

“Oh, I’m so tired of France!” a French girlfriend whined recently, in her beautiful French accent. “All they do is sit around and talk about the meaning of life, and love, and get depressed.” 

Heaven! 

I never did find out the meaning of life. And I never did make it through the India chapters in Eat Love Pray. But I did find some peace about two year’s ago, when it finally dawned on me that: Perhaps – no one* really knows the answers. Not even Oprah. What a relief! 

And from reading part of Eat, Love, Pray – it dawned on me that: Perhaps more than wanting to find answers / the truth, I much prefer to be wildly entertained!

(Glee!)

*Although my mum honestly believes she knows the meaning of life. Just this trip home, she happened to tell me that she knows “The truth about the universe – about everything - for sure.” My question to you mum is - then why are you so unhappy? Is the truth rather shitty? Because if the meaning of life is shitty, then maybe I don’t want to know.

What I’ve Learned On Fear:

As someone who has avoided fear most of my life, learning to embrace it has given me an “Ah ha” moment of late. Through doing stuff that stretches me out of my comfort zone I notice I go through the following stages:

1. Nervous fear “Why am I doing this? How can I get out of it?”
2. I hate this! Why am I doing this to myself!

And then, as long as I don’t quit, one of three things will happen:

A)   I will make a huge mistake, fuck up, feel humiliated, but learn something that I wouldn’t have ever learned if I hadn’t of failed, or;

B)   I will keep putting one foot in front of the other and get through it. Stronger for it, or;

C)   I will achieve something awesome. Something I never imagined I was capable of doing. A feeling likened to walking on water.

And the more I do it, the more I yearn for option C. It’s addictive! Like surfing!  [I imagine] Once you catch that perfect wave, it’s worth the wait, fear, sunburn, sharks etc. 

Also, there’s a point reached where a strange phenomenon can occur. Where I literally break through my fear. Is it surrendering? It feels like ‘letting go’. Whatever it is, it gives me fearlessness, freedom and an immediate sense of calm.  Like I’ve just entered the Matirx – and everything is easy. 

My "fear of choice", is doing improvised theatre. And while most scenes make my stomach churn, a good one will be when I crack the Matrix – and am living in my subconscious. If I try and recall what happened – it’s a total blur.  Every time I do this, I get a high that nothing else can touch on. Does anyone know what I’m talking about?

The thing I have to remember (which is so easy to forget!) - is I can’t ever reach that break through moment…. without feeling the fear before hand. So when ever I’m really scared – I have to realise, that unless I’m being chased by a cerial killer, then this fear is actually a very good thing. So without further ado, please always remind me, that in this life: Aim for the fear, instead of avoiding it.

On Fear

(Val Kilmer, My future husband, Shane Black)

"For most people, fear is daring to wish for something so bad that it matters to you, and then having that taken away.  Fear is, I'm not going to get the things I want, and I'm gonna lose the things I have already. That's what fear is, to me.  The idea of getting your hopes up? [When I was starting out] I would get my hopes up, and someone would say, What if they just smash you? And then you'll feel worse than ever! And I'd go: Oh, well, I know. I'd rather get my hopes up.”

"Here's what the fear does: it's something called 'The Jack Story.' Jack Story's about a guy who's driving and boom, his tire blows out in a rain storm.  By the side of the road, flat.  He sees a farmhouse in the distance with a light on, and he thinks, I don't have a jack, I can't change this tire - but maybe the farmer has one.  So he starts walking through the rain and the mud and after a couple of feet he thinks, Well, wait a minute, what if I get to the farmhouse and the guy doesn't have a jack?  Then I gotta walk all the way back and I'm getting rained on and it's murder.  And he goes, Calm down, it hasn't happened, see what happens, play it by ear, okay?.......”

To read the rest of the story, click here. It's from Billy Mernit's wonderful interview with Shane Black, screen writer of Lethal Weapon, The Long Kiss Goodnight and Kiss Kiss Bang Bang.

 

If anyone else has ever had imaginary conversations in their head with people about future events that haven’t happened, then that post may give them goose-bumps too. 

As a wise person (who I pay money to, to make me feel good,) once said:

"What Ifs - are just anxiety. They are not helpful." Banish them!

Easier said than done.

To Stay or To Go?

With less than 3 months left before my visa expires, I’m having mixed feelings about what’s next.

My Aunt-Ada would like me to stay: “YOU MUST FIND A MAN AND MARRY!! (*pause*) I’m serious!” she’ll yell. "But - HE MUST BE GOOD LOOKING!!!" Ahhh, a woman after my own heart. 


Most of me is very happy to be going back to Melbourne in Feb

I can’t wait to have:

- a proper bed

- a full length mirror

- an apartment I enjoy going back to
- old friends

- family
- trams

But part of me also thinks – how on earth will I survive without this:

(Where I practically live)

 And this:

(Sephora Make Up - where you can try, try, try and no one bugs you!)

And Central Park:

The view on the other side of the fence:

(How can I possibly jog anywhere else?) 

Thinking long term; it will be nice to know one can afford a better lifestyle in Melbs than one can here – without working your guts out, or moving so far out of Manhattan that it’s not worth it. But what about atmosphere?!?

Am I taking the easy, safe option by going back? (My old job is waiting.)


I don’t want to stay and become one of those semi-successful, yet unfulfilled single, ladies with a cat. But I also don’t want to be one of those board, stretched work-mums, who has no time to do her hair!

What do I do? Can I even stay in NY? Will I regret not trying?

Walking down the streets of NY fills me with inspiration, intense emotions and even loneliness (which is bliss for writing) but it’s also daunting. There seems to be a million people - a million times better at everything I want to do. Shouldn’t I base myself somewhere to build contacts and friends for the long term?  Careerwise - this makes sense! After all – it IS who you know. And it does excite me thinking of trying my luck in a smaller,  pond in Oz.

What’s more important family? Career opportunities? Close friends or inspiration? I do love the people here. But where is home for me?

All these conflicting thoughts are swirling through my brain, with no clear answers. I hope it shows its self to me. Perhaps I’ll do as Oprah does, and get real quiet… then have a listen to my gut instincts.

Even just saying the word ‘gut instinct’ makes me think of Melbourne. (And Itally / Paris for some reason.) Interesting.

Has anyone’s gut feeling ever led them astray?

Football

Zzzzzzz

Having hardly slept… thanks to Oprah, which comes on at 1am here, today at my writer’s office – where it is so quiet - even coughing is not permitted (seriously they strap cough lollies to the door just incase) - I put my head down on my desk, and awoke over an hour later - making vibrating fart noises with my lips. Like a horse does!

The exact noise you need to make to take these pictures:

(taken last year, in a Melbourne restaurant with friends)

I don’t know how long I’d been doing it for, but all the people around me had mysteriously put their headphones in at some stage.

Why had they not woken me? Because they just assumed I was farting?

Red faced, and bleary eyed, I exited to use the bathroom. 

Nice Post on Office Culture

I just love this girl's writings:

http://www.elizaskinner.net/2008/11/07/if-this-is-love-ill-take-spaghetti/

Let the first line of this post entice you: 

"There is no better social barometer in an office than a lunch room."