Sunday 16 October 2016

History Books & Hungry Animals

 I'm sitting in a coffee shop, surrounded by Albanians. I live in East Oxford, and on a Sunday this seems to be where every Albanian in the vicinity collects together! 

For the eight years I was with my ex partner, this was a routine environment. In the years afterwards I avoided being around the Albanian chatter that had become so familiar and
that I largely understood. It was a time of healing, rather than any rejection of race or culture. I feel lucky to have had the opportunity to learn about a country and community of people that I probably otherwise wouldn't be aware of. I spent summers rattling across the countryside of Eastern Europe in a falling apart van, meeting some of the most extraordinary people I've come across. I certainly wouldn't have tried some of the foods I was given at weddings there!


I sit comfortably and anonymously now in a sunlit corner of a generic coffee shop in Oxford. I can absorb the humming of a language I once knew with no sadness or resentment. I feel grateful for my experiences. If I hadn't been present for them then this blog and my way of writing most probably wouldn't exist. I have an enormous mug of green tea to one side of me, a good friend of mine to the other, and I'm about to head off to aerial rehearsals at the ballet st. What more could I have dreamt of back then?

Time certainly allows space for us to find perspective. It can provide opportunities that move us further away from the experiences we have become jarred by. But clocks can never surpass the power of conscious choice. The choice to keep turning the pages of your life, instead of staying stuck in the margins of one chapter. Or indeed destroying the chapters and characters that have gone before. 


We all have our histories. Our unfinished arguments. Our frustrating last conversations. We share in our wanting to put that last word in, or indeed to erase the last words said. They seem to be  never ending stories. But they are important pieces of our lives that feed the hungry animal of our existences. They deserve recognition. We all do. 

The acceptance of my history came not in one moment but in many; through the course of living out the future days of my life. There was no cinematic 'eureka' moment. True growth was borne from the moments in which I chose to be so happy that a little bit of what I had been gripping on to fell from my distracted hands. I moved on in the times when I stood up for myself a little more than I used to. And especially in the times I chose to dance, write, or create. These were the true moments of healing, more than any I tried to force from any yoga mat or major life success. 

And then, sometimes, you find yourself sitting in a coffee shop surrounded by your past. And realising you are perfectly comfortable in your very own self created present. 

No one said letting go would be easy. But they also never said how wonderful it would feel to free yourself from what holds you back. 

All my love to you, for your present Sunday and future days.

H E L E N  V I C T O R I A  
#liberté


Wednesday 8 June 2016

Love, Actually

Where has your mind been, in the last few months? If I were to ask you to take a moment of pause now, what thoughts would float to the surface? We are so often asked how we are. Questions from strangers, friends and colleagues provoke us to to tell the world we are fine, we are well, and we are happy. But what is your mind telling you, as you read this? How are you, reader?

I have been a little quiet for the past few months. I have spent the last little while sealed off somewhat, doing everything I could to save the situation I was in. In doing so, I stayed beyond the turning point when I really should have walked myself home. In doing so, I knew I was giving up on some of the Liberty's beliefs of kindness and free living. It has been a process of experience and learning. One which I cannot and would not change. Ultimately, I had to complete that period of my life without the sharing of it in blog writing. I needed to wander into the wild for a while.

I cannot say in any way that I regret my experiences. I have lived in America in beautiful places. I have seen and witnessed incredible things. I have now learnt a circus aerial act that I can carry through to my next chapters! I loved, and loved fully. For that, I cannot ever be sorry. I gave my life and it's lessons to another person - a beautiful thing indeed.

Love is not infidelity. Love cannot be found in the darkest corners of doubt, pressure, or control. It thrives in open conversations. It breathes life into us in its truest forms. It lives in laughter. It's an animal that is fed by gentleness and starved by greed. It's founded by the daily habits of avoiding drawing harm towards the existence of our lovers. I don't think it needs to be any more complicated than that, honestly.

We are all lovers. We differ only on what and who we choose to give our love to. Disparate in our selections yet united in our capacities for love. Perhaps it's really just how much we allow ourselves to love, and be loved, that makes the difference.

Who do you love, truly? What is it that makes you feel loved, all the way through to your bones? Or what is it, perhaps, that you think you need to feel loved?


"Helen, you are the only person you have to be with for the rest of your life. So do what is in the best interest for you. Whatever decision you make, make sure you make it with a well thought mind"


These are the stable words from a friend that were sent to me recently. Her message is heavily rooted in concepts of self respect. A love for self that can often be overlooked in our rush to seal ourselves into relationship safety. In this text message moment, my friend has neatly reminded me to stay self conscious in its most positive sense. To stay conscious of my own mind. Without allowing any late night fears or early morning hesitations to take over my days.

In turn, I hope to continue to do the same in my writing to you. I promised to stay committed to a path of doing so 5 years ago, and happily will remain doing so for as many days as I am fortunate to live. Because for the first time on this journey with you all, I can honestly say that I have never felt more trusting of the future. I have never been more believing in the potential of love.

In the last month everything I thought was definite has altered (as it so often seems to!) but I have never felt happier or more myself. I have made British plans in Oxford with excellent new and old friends. I have begun working on a very exciting personal project supported by some developing performing work I have been offered. I am living in an incredible city, at an immense time of my life. I couldn't be in a better place to create and regenerate. I chose to be this way.

I fell in love! And, as a result, I have fallen all the more in love with this journey we travel on together; towards creating an environment where the world can come to be lost or found with the support of the arts. Nothing less.

So here we are, and on we happily go. Never fearing difference - only feelings of indifference!

To experience, to new chapters, and to the love that binds us all.

H E L E N  V I C T O R I A  
#liberté



Thursday 18 February 2016

Shaved Locks & Good Looks

When I arrived to the US this time around I was flying in from not only my home country, but from a world of professional dancing. A flashbulb world where my long red hair had been a large commercial selling point for me. Not only that, but I would be commencing a life that I would be shared with another person.

I landed in Florida a little over three months ago now. I moved here to build a new pathway with my fiance, Govian. After a year and a half of being an Atlantic ocean away from each other, we finally came up with a way to create a life that balances both of our passions in the same place.

And now?


We are living in a renovated tour bus on lush green lands nearby to a beautiful beach, training each day to create circus acts to go out in the world and travel with. My days are spent dancing in the air now in various aerial acts. My evenings are spent by firesides, painting and writing, and having real time to create more than I probably ever have. As an artist, I couldn’t ask for more than to spend my hours in this way. 


Oh, and I shaved my head!


The hair? I donated it to a wonderful charity called ‘Locks of Love’ that use donated hair to make wigs for children with cancer. Govian boldly shaved it all it off for me one evening in our tour bus home. As the hair fell away, I physically felt years of weight and history fall away with it. In all honesty, it was one of the most liberating experiences of my life.

The moment that really caught me about the whole experience was the surprising amount of fear that came to me in the moments just before we started the process. My head was filled with the casting directors that might now reject me, or the modelling jobs I may no longer have access to. Most superficially of all, I was worried I would look terrible. I realized in those moments how heavily invested I was in my own appearance.

Thankfully, my ugly duckling fears were lifted away by the gentle encouragement of Govian, who could see past the vanity and the social conditioning I was gripping on to. As I felt the cut away of my long ponytail to be sent on to ‘Locks of Love’, I let go, and listened only to the buzz of the razor as it danced around my skull. 

Since donating, I have been amazed at the love people have shared. Some even going as far as making financial donations to the charity I gave it all to! As for me, I no longer hide behind my hair as I once did. I am exposed, and cannot rely on my long red mane for approval any longer. In all honesty, I've never felt more confident or more feminine. It’s a whole lot easier to get ready, too!

So why are we so hung up on how we look? What lies within us that we feel the need to be any more than we are at any time? What counts as ‘more’, in any case?

Currently, a close dancing friend of mine is frustrated in her audition experiences. Irrespective of her talent, years of training and the steeliest determination I have seen in anyone in a long time, she is often cut from castings because the panels are choosing the ‘model look’ dancer rather than the one who can do the job to a higher standard. My friend is utterly beautiful, no doubt. But the girl with the 6-pack abs is so often the one who gets the job, regardless of her level of skill. To my friend, this is the ultimate frustration of which I can totally understand. Is this the stage we have arrived at now? Do we really value looks over talent to the extent that we would lower the quality of a production for it? Are these the shows we want to pay tickets for?

Yesterday evening as I peeled off my training clothes, I glanced at my own body in the mirror. And so began the routine dance of acceptance, as I twisted and contorted my body this way and that, examining it for changes or new appearances. Ten years ago, I did the very same thing as an insecure teenager; scrutinizing my body for fat or unwanted layers of skin. Ten years on, my eyes look now more for positive change rather than negative. Where as an adolescent I scolded myself for not staying the same, I now embrace my changing body. I don’t have a ‘perfect’ physicality. But it’s a physicality that allows me the flexibility and strength that I need to facilitate the dancing and performing that I love.

My arms are not as ballerina thin as they were when I graduated from dancing college. But they are now strong enough to lift me high into the air on circus apparatus. My thighs are thicker, mostly with hard worked for muscle but admittedly with a little fat also. The very fat that I used to fight against, but now recognize as an integral part of my body make-up. This doesn’t mean that I leap for joy every time I see myself without clothing, or that I don’t see the same flaws we all suffer on occasion. But it does mean I have less interest in bullying myself for those flaws. In short, I don’t want to skip meals to chase bones any longer.

Recently, Mattel released a new line of Barbie dolls that are varying in body shape and skin colour. It’s only taken them 57 years to do it! But well done to them, for finally making such a monumental step forwards in positively re-educating our social media ‘perfection’ soaked head spaces. I absolutely advocate living in a way that brings good health and fitness to our lives and our bodies, to strengthen our days here. But this move from Mattel brilliantly identifies that a healthy body (or even an accepted one) doesn’t have to be a uniform size or shape. Now we’re just waiting on Ken doll to join the reality check in!

Go ahead and have fun with how you look. Don’t be afraid to try out new fabrics, whether they are the ones you decorate your body with, or that are the materials of how you think. Underneath, we are all made up of bones and ideas. Have fun filling out the coverings of each of these bones, and every one of your ideas. You aren’t a Barbie doll after all, and thank goodness! You’re you. That’s more than enough.

Here’s to your physical liberté! Enjoy every moment, muscle and thread of it.

Yours truly,

Helen Victoria.
#liberté #journeytolibertys #freedomblogger