Meandering March or marching to… That is the question 
Humf….its March. That’s what I think when I write this. March….so that’s month 3, entering the end of the first quarter of 2016, 41 days passed (another humf). 

Next thought…. …. So what have I achieved in January and February. I can think of a few things, kept a surprising amount of my new year resolution’s this time. For me, it’s quite an achievement when a New Years resolution makes it into the third month of the year. I have a reputation amongst my family and close friends as the person who has ‘phases’. That and a terrible memory. 

There have been a few ‘phases’ in my life, all innocent, all life affirming and character building, not all can be described in a blog for fear of being misconstrued as a misguided, indecisive, easily manipulated, easily influenced, non-focussed person when really all it was, was pure naivety (after all, I did grow up in Norfolk), gullibility combined with an attitude of a glass is half full. I can identify the ones which are potentially relatable or, at the very least comprehensible. Phases like, I apparently change my clothes sense depending on my boyfriend at the time. Tight clothes to display body shape, baggy clothes to hide my body shape, corporate clothes, boho clothes, 60s clothes my Mum made during her teenage years in the 60s (triggering my indulgence of bright colours) - they were back in fashion right?, indie clothes, shell suits, now there’s a outfit that has escaped the 80s resurrection … What was the ‘shell’ about?

My husband was mortified the other day when he saw an old photo of me wearing my ‘home cardigan’ out in public. This rather over sized light blue-grey cardigan made by my Grandma for my Mum is the most comfortable, warmest cardigan I own and it had regular appearances in public when I was in my boho phase. It was warmer than any coat I owned from a high street shop. It is important to note at this point that I have never had a ‘sense’ of clothes. I’ve never been the fashionable sister, the friend you borrow clothes from, the business partner who wears funky clothes and looks ‘cool’. I maintain a few principles when venturing out on a shopping trip. Black, grey or dark coloured items - walk straight past. They literally don’t have an existence in ‘Aleah world’, well, that is until I realised I couldn’t match any of my skirts with my tops because none of the colours or patterns matched. But then again, really how important is that? I now have 2 faithful black jumpers and 2 faithful white jumpers. Principle resumed. 

The next one - jeans. I won’t even bother browsing. If I choose to wear jeans, it will be because I’m calm, anxiety free and can put up with a day of feeling uncomfortable. I’m a self-employed composer  - this never exists, certainly not past the first two hours of the day. Growing up, the different tailored choices available today didn’t exist. I’m sure there was only two - tight and baggy… Does my memory fail me again here? With the plethora of ‘fits’ now, you would think I could find atleast one ‘fit’ but the search continues. They’re either too high and consequently remind me I really should make that effort I promised myself to become as thin as I was 3 years ago after a break-up. You know … the size everyone reduces to after a break-up. The best diet program a person can endure. “I’ll definitely do the Gillian Michaels DVD tomorrow” the little voice in my head says … the day passes by, I lose track of time in work and at the end of the day I chastise myself that I didn’t do the 20 minute DVD work-out I’d promised myself, or the 20 minute meditation I’m meant to be doing every day, or the piece I wanted to compose, or the contact I wanted to engage with, or the research I wanted to do…. (The knot in the middle of my body tightens like a towel that you are trying to wring the last drop of water from) … “What have I achieved today?” followed by deathly silence …

Anxiety, expectations, failure, self deprecation … It’s destructive to a persons mental health and yet it’s an accepted disposition of a human being. I enrolled on a mindfulness course in January in an attempt to control my anxiety and contain my fear of being a failure (a disposition of an ‘artist’). It’s a small class. Everyone else is seeing the benefits. They can ‘do’ the exercises. I on the other hand, am the timid but internally rebellious student in the corner who is looking at her fellow classmates wondering if they’re actually benefiting or whether they are wearing a mask of pretence that all is well. My teacher keeps talking about judgements. Humans apparently constantly judge ourselves. I’m acknowledging I can’t meditate which is apparently a judgment. It’s not a judgement, it’s a fact. It’s not happening. Am I misunderstanding the word ‘judge’? ‘A public officer appointed to decide cases in a court of law ’ … Ergh , no’A leader having temporary authority in ancient Israel in the period between Joshua and the Kings’ … Ergh, no, but that’s an interesting definition I’ve not heard before. Thanks google’Form an opinion or conclusion about’ … Ahhhhh, well, umm, I guess so? Is a fact a conclusion about something or is it a fact? 

I digress … Where was I? Oh yes, my mindfulness course and lack thereof mindfulness after 5 weeks. This week we tried a different type of meditation, instead of gently pushing any thoughts anyway that entered whilst meditating, we were asked to think of a worry and focus on it, allow it to exist, don’t try to push it away. I start this process with ease, after all this is the main source of food for my anxiety, “oh great” the head voice says “I’ve got to do what I do all day every day” … Then in what can only be described as an act of rebellion, I fall into a meditative state of restfulness. I can feel my breathing, my head is clear, I’m aware of the person next to me, the silence around me, I can feel sensations in my toes, my feet, my ankles, calves, thighs. I don’t question anything, I am just being … Silence  … “How did that practice make you feel Aleah?” The teacher says. My head voice now allowed to be external “ummm, well, actually, I just had my first meditative experience of peacefulness. A bewildered look and laughter from my fellow classmates. Not the type of laughing at, more the type of laughter and sheer ridiculousness of it how when we were asked to embrace our uncomfortable thoughts, I explore the peaceful meditative state. 

It reminds me of being at school again where I didn’t quite understand what we were being taught, something wasn’t clicking. Partly because my deafness meant I didn’t hear all the teachers words, other times because my undiscovered dyslexia meant I didn’t recognise how I learnt. Unfortunately, the delivery style was the opposite to my learning needs hence the severe lack of knowledge in some areas (much to my fellow travellers amusement a few years ago when visiting a skeleton of a dinosaur in Bolivia, I had the realisation that dinosaurs weren’t a myth and actually did exist ). 
Reading back through this, it is my most digression fuelled blogpost to date. Meandering seems appropriate now. I really hope March becomes marvellous March and April doesn’t become agonising April. Time will tell….

‘There is no boat big enough to keep you drowning in the sea of yourself ’ Caitlyn Siehl
‘Life is 10% what you experience and 90% how you respond to it’ Dorothy M. Neddermeyer