Mastering my Mojo

If you read my previous blog, the heroine in the story was smited with the winter sickness. If you are gasping and searching for that post; you can read it here.

Blow away the smoke and push through the mirrors of that story and you will find that heroine was me.

It wasn't only my runny nose, chesty cough, bags under the eyes and rash around my nose from blowing it that got me down, it was the general feelings of lackluster and overall missing of my- what I'm going to call "mojo" that had me struggling to get out of bed, feel like anything I was wearing looked decent, and crying inexplicably about three times in one week (not that is a bad thing.)

mojo¹

ˈməʊdʒəʊ/

noun

US

noun: mojo; plural noun: mojos

1. a magic charm, talisman, or spell.

   "someone must have their mojo working over at the record company"

   • influence, especially magic power.

     "the name has no mojo"

   early 20th century: probably of African origin; compare with Gullah moco ‘witchcraft’.

mojo²

ˈməʊdʒəʊ,ˈməʊhəʊ/

noun

US

noun: mojo

1. a Cuban sauce or marinade containing garlic, olive oil, and sour oranges.

The context I am using it in, is not the Cuban sauce sense, but I definitely feel like life is more spicy when there is mojo around. The modern colloquial definition this word is commonly coming to mean, is personal confidence, charisma, and tenacity.
I don't know if it is a 'performer' thing, or an everybody thing, but I'm going to give it a red hot go at explaining to you my musings.
Some of you reading this might always have a relatively good base level mojo, which then peaks at parties, when you do well at work, or are "in the zone" in a sports game/ relationship.  
Some of you reading this might feel like you had loads of mojo when you were younger, fitter, or more fulfilled. I don't know if these objective things have a direct correlation to the magic that is one's personal confidence and charisma- but here I want to explore and challenge that; and go on a quest to master and manifest my mojo, even when the chips are down.

Anyways, so there I was, last week, with no mojo in my dojo, feeling a little low low, indulging myself in cocoa, not feeling the up and go go.
Fortunately, I was flown to Byron Bay to perform at Splendour in the Grass music festival. The combination of warm weather and time onstage doing what I love making people laugh, heckling passers by and then post show shenanigans including a ukelele jam till sunrise put the spring back in my step somewhat. 

I have found that mojo has to come from within, but other things can help bring it out. It can't be forced, or the same as your friend's. It waxes and wanes in volume, and everyone restores it in different ways. I have found it also might not be completely useful to throw your mojo around willy nilly, but can make life extremely colourful if injected into relatively mundane situations, like going to the supermarket. My mojo was missing for a few reasons, the weather, sickness, burying myself in business and routine and not contacting those who lift me up, another one being that my time was spent on comparison to others and was a distraction for me seeing my "me-ness"  (for you, your "you-ness")

PUT THE "YOU" IN UNIQUE. 

To master my mojo I guess I needed to restore faith in myself and unique set of gifts that bring a spark to people's eyes and lives, including mine. I also needed the contrast of the mojo-less time to hibernate and be the very hungry caterpillar who just needed to quietly go about its' business, eating cucumber sandwiches and cakes until it was ready to become a butterfly.

If you are furrowing your brow, somehow confused at the way I am darting around talking about Cuban sauces, uniqueness, and caterpillars, apologies. It's what I am going to call "the process". The karate kid was confused when Mr Miyagi was getting him to wax on and wax off, and that was a process too. My writing about this is my way of feeling through the dark to the find and maintain the sparkle I was missing. Even as doing so, I am quietly freaking out and umming and ahhing about whether to actually publish this, as I have had some people challenge the things I am writing which I have taken very personally (even though they were justified.)

 I am hoping that by sharing this with you, I am getting you to think about your own personal magical mojo. Maybe you take a step back and give yourself a giant high 5. Maybe you scratch your head and reflect and look at things that might need slowing down (eg work) or changing (eg lifestyle) because they are stopping you from putting the YOU in YOUNIQUE. 

At Splendour in the Grass, as well as some great headline musicians, I saw some smaller musicians and also spoken word artists who showed me how powerful words are. These artists bared their souls and ideas and got into my heart and showed me how they can change the world with words. It left me inspired that I have the skills to scratch the surface and do the same, and I guess that is what I am chipping away at here. 

People say to me "wow, you are so brave that you can get onstage and do comedy and be such funny, witty characters and make your own work!"

Well, there are times where writing and publishing this blog has me much much more scared than that.

So, I'm going to dig up that personal confidence- master my mojo, and publish this before the spark goes.

You rippa!

Jj 

Don't judge a band by it's covers

I was all set to go to my friends' gig last night, but their singer was sick so they were taken off the program. Keen to get out of the house and keen to catch up with her, I went to the gig anyway.

With a mulled wine in hand, we listened to the end of a female folk singer's set as she described her final song as "really whiney but gonna do it anyway." It was good.

The next band was setting up. They looked like a collection of high-school music teachers; one was even wearing a name tag . The lead guitarist was in an elephant grey suit with a chain hanging from his belt to his pocket, that I suspect he had his wallet or keys or smartphone dangling from. There were members with long hair and thinning hair among them.....and boy, was I excited to hear what they were going to bring to the party. 

To put it simply: they rocked. They were energetic, experienced and claimed to not have had a rehearsal since 2002. The lead guitarist did that thing that Pete Townsend from The Who does where he holds his guitar up away from his body and plays it. Their songs were about the pubs of Melbourne, girls they used to know and the mischief they got up to in the 70s and 80s; how breaking into cars was people watching and a great way to find new cds and narcotics, among other things. I looked around the audience- all 15 of us, and saw smiles and engagement. The band wasn't caring about who wasn't there, how the venue was only a fraction full. They knew the most important people were there, us, the ones sitting in the seats watching them, and that, to me, is what really rocks. 

In Amanda Palmer's book: The Art of Asking, she tells of how when she was young she lied to people when they asked what she wanted to be 'when she grew up' 

 "a lawyer, a doctor, a veterinarian, I liked my cat, I figured I qualified. The truth just sounded too stupid. I want to be a rockstar...an artistic one, a cool one, like Prince, Janis Joplin, Cindy Lauper."

I guess it's inspiring to see people who continue to do what they love, even though there are hundreds of young-tattoo wielding, electronically enhanced  and hashtagging up and coming artists out there. It's inspiring to see that passion is stronger than embarrassment, and that you should never judge a band by it's covers. 

Jj 

How to bus

Sometimes, in our lives, when we have to get somewhere, we take a bus. This process can be exhausting, tyre-ing and can drive you mad; not to mention the fuss one must thrust into singing on the bus with lust. 

 Here is a step by step guide to ensuring your bus trip is bus-ting and bus-tling with enough fun to spin your wheels and toot your horn.

Step 1.

Wear fresh underwear. 

You know what they say about getting hit by a bus because you were negligent about your knickers; proper panties are even more important when partaking on a bus trip because accidents start with skids.

Step 2.

Timetable and ticket.

"She's got a ticket to ride, and she don't care."

She's an idiot. She was a day tripper and found herself on the highway to hell because she didn't care. All she needed was someone to say hey Jude, look at the timetable or you'll be on the road to nowhere.

Someone needs to be speaking words of wisdom sort out the details and not just let it be.

Step 3.

Beverages and bladders.

Whilst it may seem cosy and atmospheric to enjoy various beverages on a bus, remember that the bathrooms on these things are about the size of that coffee cup you brought onboard. To avoid leakages, limit your liquids and refuel when necessary.

Step 4.

Entertainment.

Conventionally, one stays occupied with singing, eye spy, spilling your bag of chips and getting motion sickness.

Nowadays, busses are equipped with VCR players, out of tune am radios, and if you have gone deluxe-a crazy person to talk to in the isle across from you. Whilst portable digital devices are entertaining, they cannot compare to Dave the Driver or Bill the Busman's stories. Always wearing a smile, shorts, walk socks, sweat marks and a middle age spread; bus drivers work those crackly microphones better than a British bogan works on their tan. 

 

Step 5.

Arrival and disembarking.

If you have followed steps 1-4, it's time to step off the bus. Ensure you have assembled your things to avoid awkward aisle blockages and have your excuse ready for why you don't want to give the crazy person your Facebook name. As you are released from your multi-seated, multi-wheeled moving prison, take in the sights and sounds as hopefully you have actually travelled somewhere different to where you boarded. And remember-

If you've got to go far; take your car. If it's just a small hike; take your bike.

If you don't want to get stuck; take a truck.

If you are a cool man; take your van.

If you enjoy pain; you'll take the train.

If you live life to the maxi; you'll just take a taxi.

If smart you are not; you'll try take a yacht. 

And if you take the bus; it will be wonderous.

Jj