My great-grandfather, Dave Locket, smoked from the age of 11, was a gambler, was a womaniser, whiskey drinker and had great health until he was 93.
He didn’t give a rat’s arse about organic, mindfulness, exercise or moderation. He walked everywhere, enjoyed home-cooked food and lived his life fully.
Dave was an incredibly nice and joyful man.

Fast forward a couple of generations.
I’m feeling like I need to be up at 5am, into the lotus position for my daily affirmations before jogging around the streets in the dark (something which I actually love). Home, a meditation to set my intentions for world peace, abundant living or magical powers, cool-down stretching… then, as the sun pops up in the West, heralding the start of a new day (or those that were still snoring and farting in their beds) I can take time to Pineal gaze for metaphysical connections.
Still pending is a body scrub, juicing, chanting, laughter therapy, tapping, tarot card for the day, incense burning, work, household chores, socialising…

This is what expectation can feel like for me.
Seriously… who does this?

How do we sift through all the bullshit to work out what we can do for ourselves, without thinking that we’re somehow fundamentally flawed or failing?
A lot of us live in a world of expectation. We expect to be treated a certain way, by our spouses, mothers, colleagues, siblings and strangers alike.
We expect to live a certain lifestyle, earn a certain wage, drive a certain car. We expect to be needed, cherished. The expectations can be never-ending.

Sleep in your make-up, go off-grid, stay up all night, get up late, ignore the calls. Let’s play out and ignore the calls to come home to the status quo.

I proclaim: “We take our joy back, throw off the shackles of expectation, get our groove back on and #BeLikeDave”.