And it’s been awhile…

Me pulling silly face - March 2016 - cropped slightly edited 50 per cent

I have been challenged to tell my story. But the amount of times I have been prompted to share a little about myself on different sites and stopping short because I am completely frozen, I could not even tell you. Even on my Facebook profile, you will not see statistics such as the high school I attended or the places I have worked at.

I have a tendency to overwhelm myself very easily and this often leads me to not sharing unless I absolutely have to, and I write this with a laugh at myself. I suppose I am not the only one in this world that feels overwhelmed by having to share “a little about yourself”. After all, how could we possibly ever share ‘just a little’? And won’t ‘just a little’ undervalue the entirety of life that has been lived? And won’t ‘just a little’ very quickly define you in the reader’s mind?

I am a rebel at heart and have always refused to be defined by…. anything. I do not wish to meet your standards. I strive to either exceed them, or if I deem it’s best, I keep walking and not bother at all. So most times when I am met with the “share a little about yourself” concept, I tend to deem it best to just keep walking and not bother at all!

But I have been challenged to jump out of my shell and simply share no bars held. This is something I have slowly learned the confidence to do in recent years but I still need a little push. Well, I do not tend to refuse a challenge so here I am:

I was born on the other side of the world and whisked up into a plane at the age of 8 months to live life in Australia. I am of South-American heritage, which means that many aspects of my personality, knowledge and expectations are heavily shaped by South-American values that were taught me by my South-American parents. But on the whole, I feel very Australian. This can be very confusing to my own husband, let alone other people *giggle*.

I was brought up in a strictly religious home, which also shapes a lot of my values. Whether it means I have shed some of what I learned in childhood or kept some of the principles taught to me, it certainly means that once again I can be a little ‘different’ to the general crowd.

For example, I find there are certain topics of conversation that I am simply not interested in – not because I am cold or aloof or antisocial, as might be the impression given – but because I find a lot of conversations to be extremely trivial and it just makes me want to fall asleep. I don’t care about your latest shopping expedition, I want to know about your latest personal or spiritual discovery. And when you tell me about a travel experience, I don’t care about the great hotels you stayed at, I want to know about the sunsets you’ve experienced and the delectable food you held in your mouth and the sounds you heard whilst walking down the sandy or cobblestone streets.

Not many people share so intimately however, so it is often that I am left thirsting in social settings. Often I end up retreating to a corner, if not into myself. I am sorry if this is offensive to some people who have witnessed this about me. It’s not that I am uninterested – I am just too deeply interested.

Join me for a one on one coffee date though and you will see my eyes light up and hear me squeal and gasp and laugh at whatever it is you wish to share – tell me more, tell me more!

I was brought up in poverty. This makes me deeply appreciate everything that I have. I am not a stranger to holes in the soles of my school shoes; frozen bulk-cooked porridge in the freezer for the week; endlessly borrowing stationery and self-care products from friends at school and pretending that ‘I keep forgetting to buy new pens’ or ‘I ran out of my Impulse yesterday’. (I will never forget Camilla’s endless love & generosity). I am no stranger to hand-me-downs from family friends; ripping into a large rubbish bag full of clothes given to us was extremely exciting, and that was our version of ‘going shopping’. Living in poverty meant that as a teenager I had to create my own fashion style (from the eclectic collection of clothes in that rubbish bag) and I learned very quickly to stride into a room like I didn’t care that the preppy girls were wearing their newest and latest trends.

(I really did care).

This experience of poverty created a deep sense of uniqueness and individuality in me and I am forever thankful that Life gave me the lessons that it did. I once had an old friend from high school bump into me 10 years after we graduated and she gushed at me, telling me that I had been her role model and her inspiration in our high school years – that all she had ever wanted to do was emulate the utmost confidence I portrayed. This warmed my heart incredibly because I had equally admired her – her quiet and steadfast being, her elegant and immaculate self-presentation, and her strong, ambitious life goals. I shared with her that I had been just as much a bundle of nerves underneath it all, as the next teenager had been. And that I dealt with the nerves with the great facade she saw me expose to the world.

But they say practice makes perfect and I do like to think that that sense of confidence in my own unique individuality led me to survive the world outside of school, well into university, career, marriage and general adulthood responsibility.

At times this confidence has been a little over-confident and I have made many mistakes in my life – some of them have been really huge. I am continually humbled by looking back at my life and seeing that I never really knew it all – if at all – and that people are softer and more forgiving than we think that they might be. I personally believe that mistakes can be the crown jewels of life because it is these that help you to grow and to change and to move onwards and upwards to live a more enriching life.

I became Mother 6 years ago and my little girl is, hands-down, the light of my life. She is my driving force for everything that I do now, and her existence gives me joy and hope and courage in a way that I’d never had these before. My husband and I were infinitely blessed with her arrival because she proved to bring us together during a time that we had been living tumultuous seperate lives. We are a gorgeous little family that are really close-knit and we somehow just ‘need’ each other and this nucleus vibration is precious to me.

That is a little bit of my story. And perhaps reading the above might give you an insight as to why I just tend to keep myself contained most of the time. (Those who know me well will say that I couldn’t possibly ever be ‘contained’!) When I am prompted to share… I really do share! It’s the South-American in me 😉

Other than my journey described above, I am the oldest of 7 children in my family and I am a creative mind. I enjoy reading and writing. I enjoy singing. I have God in my life and He helps me to see the bigger , wider and the deeper. I am a deeply loving person and if you’ve chosen to be in my life, I hope that you know how much you are loved and appreciated by me. There’s not much you have to do – you just have to be kind towards me, and know that I am not as horrible as I might seem sometimes 🙂 But above all, you just have to be YOU. Even if you don’t like me, I will eventually love you for even that, your truth!

I am passionate about people, and our right to be unique individuals who are loved and learning to love. I am passionate about everyone’s life being their own journey and I love hearing about it, and getting to know what makes you tick (if you so wish to share).

At the point that I feel I have shared too much, I will love you and leave you.

Enjoy.

~Diosa

 

 

 

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Her Creamy Skin

Her creamy skin
Her curves in perfect places
Her eyes sharing a million stories
Her mind creating worlds of possibilities…
Her lips enticing
Her lips loving
Her beauty unjudging
Her soul immersing…
Her porcelain face
Her intelligence sufficed
Her eyes seeing the love that surrounds her
Her lips speaking truths
Her heart authentic…
Her choice
Her empowerment
Her love as a friend
Her love as a companion
Her being of equal standing
Her joy…

It Was Her Legacy

Amidst all the pain that was felt with the loss of Nanna some years ago, I remember pondering at her funeral about the fact that, even in death, she could still be so inspirational. She was inspiration to me. As photographs of her life were revealed, including one of her as a young woman mowing her lawn in the 1950’s, I sat there wanting to live life the way she had lived it.

And that was her legacy. To be inspiring, without even trying; and to teach, without even trying. She would always say to my husband, “Look after her”. Then she would turn to me and say, “Look after him.” This was a beautiful lesson learned, thankfully not too late. But the beauty of the wisdom in her words were to strike a chord quite profoundly years into our marriage.

And that was her legacy.

I have often wondered about the concept of leaving behind a legacy.

When I was a child, I wondered what I would take with me if our house were to be caught up in flames of fire. Just a random thought that a lot of people probably wonder about. I always thought of my journals first and foremost, and also of the many tapes in which I had recorded my original songs.

Growing up, I always wrote in my journals as though a young girl far down the line of my descendant’s lineage had stumbled across my diaries in the dark corners of a dusty attic, flipping through the very old delicate paper and gathering in her head a concept of what it was like for me to live my life. Ultimately, I wanted to teach my descendants about what it was like for somebody their own age to live life, some one hundred years ago. I guess I had always held a fascination with the past and how people lived one hundred years before me, and longed to make such a discovery myself. I think that these were the beginnings of my pondering about leaving a legacy.

None of us want to be forgotten, after all.

As the years have rolled on, I have wondered what it is that I could leave behind for my loved ones. Is it my journals and perhaps the discovery even more so of what life really was like for me? Or is it the songs that I have recorded (by now onto the computer) for them to listen to over and over again once I am gone? Or is it just the memory of spending time with me? Is it the encouragement that I could impart through our conversations? Is it the inspiration that I might have the privilege of imparting to somebody, somebody out there? Just like Nanna…?

I was reading an article for my University studies earlier today and it was an article written all the way back in 1997, when the World Wide Web was still very fresh and revolutionising the way the world worked. The author writes about becoming your own brand in a world filled with projects – in a world when anyone could own a website; becoming your own brand, even as an individual.

Isn’t that where we are at today?

And isn’t that a little bit scary?

I remember in the early 2000’s, I had just moved in with my then-fiance and pretending to be a housewife of sorts. I was also spending time with the band I was lead singer of at the time. But for the most part I was discovering the World Wide Web – even more so than I had discovered it at the turn of its inception into the world, in my mid-teens.

During this time I was introduced to the concept of creating your own website which I found to be truly fascinating – for the first time I was going to be able to share some of my thoughts and my poetry and my otherwise mental meanderings. But this web fad did not last very long for it wasn’t very long before Myspace came along and made it possible for everyone to transfer their personalities onto an online profile – herein an extension for the personal website concept. And of course, the rest is history. By now, I think a lot of us have moved on from Myspace altogether and use Facebook… on a daily basis.

(Sometimes I wonder why we don’t just leave the screens and buttons alone and inhale a deep breath of the fresh air around us, and cast our eyes onto the people we love that are physically surrounding us…)

In essence, I realise now that we all have a much bigger and wider opportunity to leave our mark. We don’t have to turn our Facebook profiles into outreach projects or platforms of business; I guess what I’m thinking is that the opportunity to leave our mark has grown, and grown more sophisticatedly. With it, the inevitable fact that, once you are gone, there will be a script of your life and personality and passions and what you stood for, for everybody to read over and over again. The little girl that was writing journals with her descendants in mind doesn’t really have to worry about teaching anything anymore because it’s happening as we live it.

The article I was reading for university posed this question: What do you want to be famous for?

Famous?? You might ask. Yes, famous.

Is that what a legacy is?

Andy Warhol predicted that every single person in the world would one day have their 5 minutes of fame. And I believe that with social media such as Facebook and Twitter, everybody really does have their 5 minutes of fame. Forget 5 minutes, how about an ongoing fame? Your personality and what you’re made of is continually exposed, continually “out there”, available for scrutiny by anybody.

We all choose this to be so.

I would love to see what Nanna’s Facebook profile would look like – what her personality splashed on the screen would look like. There would be loads of smiling photos, cheeky photos of her eating sweets she shouldn’t be eating, and her Status Updates would read, “Look after her. Look after him.”

So what do I want to be famous for? What do I want to leave behind for my loved ones? What will be my everlasting imprint on this earth? What will be my legacy?

What have I done this week to make myself count? What have I done today to make an impression?

 

 

 

 

~ Originally written 7th January 2012