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Week 26 of 52 Changing My New Year’s Resolution

January 1, 2013 //
0
Happy New Year! 2013!

Happy New Year! 2013!

“To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.”

― Federico García Lorca, Blood Wedding

REFLECTIONS

Happy Half Way Point for The Other Woman Blog!

I’m back home now, in a self-imposed, silent retreat. Candles burning, fresh flowers before me and very loud rock music blaring. Something about the sharp contrast between the serene and the wild is feeding my soul today. I am going to try to unearth the purpose of my addictions…my over-indulgences with food and British Mystery Series. Let me be clear. I had no desire to write about this. But I made a promise when I began theotherwomanblog, 6 months ago…that whatever topic presented itself to me, on or around the day of writing, I would be courageous enough to write about it…no matter how uncomfortable it made me. Today is New Year’s Eve…now New Year’s Day! (I began yesterday but made little progress…I was like the class clown, who uses humour and silly antics to avoid work…after several hours with no discernible progress in my writing, I closed my computer and watched a British Mystery while eating chocolates-the realization that I was finally coming close to understanding my addictive tendencies, made me giddy, but afraid.) 

The following incident brought today’s topic to me through the magic of synchronicity, where an innocuous event in the external world has unexpected significance to me and me alone! Often though, once explained, others, too, may understand. 

I had no sooner finished last week’s post, on Christmas Eve, when this week’s topic landed in my lap, literally. This synchronistic event occurred during Christmas dinner, which I was spending with two of my tall, thin girlfriends( of which I seem to have an inordinate number). After cooking for hours, we made our way to the candle lit table, set for 3, each place adorned with a pretty red Christmas Cracker…neither the chair nor the Cracker was pre-assigned. Once seated, we 3 crossed arms and pulled on each other’s Christmas Crackers, until 3 snaps were heard …in the flurry of noise and ripping Crackers, the gifts flew about…the other women located their cheap little games on the table before them, but my trinket was no where to be seen. In seconds though, my gaze was drawn down…and there, on my chubby lap, lay a well constructed, heavy duty, TAPE MEASURE!  COME ON UNIVERSE! This was supposed to be a celebration. I reluctantly snapped 2 photos, for the Blog Post, I knew I had to write.

Cheap Little Games in their X-mas Crackers!
A Tape Measure in My X-mas Cracker??

Survey Time ! Who has ever received anything useful in a Christmas Cracker? I have tried to embed a survey in this Post. If it did not work, blame my Editor, who has gone out for New Year’s Eve…I’m not whining…I chose this…I needed to concentrate…self-imposed silent retreats are a priceless luxury, especially after 2 weeks of fun and frivolity. 

PLEASE TAKE SURVEY BELOW…TICK YES OR NO

My Analysis of Addictive Tendencies

Maybe watching British Mystery Series doesn’t warrant its own branch in the 12 Step Recovery Program, as Overeaters Anonymous does, but I am definitely a British Mystery Series-aholic. My definition of addiction is broad-based but non-judgemental. If I engage in an activity that makes no sense, but I do it anyway, then I feel I am dealing with addictive tendencies. Easy to apply this definition to heroin, more difficult with food and British Mystery Series. You may say, “What’s wrong with a little entertainment and the odd treat?” Simply put, nothing. But when life is so precious, why would I waste mine watching others perform? In addition, when I have worked so hard to become healthy, why would I jeopardize this by eating sugar? I’m neither stupid nor lazy, although it has taken me years to end these judgements… so what drives these self-destructive, punishing, tendencies? What bottomless pit am I trying to fill? What am I really yearning for?

 The opening quote by Federico Lorca gave me my clue. What have I deeply desired in my life, but have not experienced? More than anything, I have dreamed to live from the depths of my spirit, feeling confident and free to express my views and observations, feeling confident and free to follow my intuition, my instinctual drives…using my skill, talent and intuition in the creation of my life. But this has not been my experience in the least. Instead I felt constrained and defined…socialized to the point of dispiritedness…listlessness.

I started theotherwomanblog when I became aware of feeling contained as a woman in today’s prescriptive culture…”Do this, don’t do that…Look like this, not like that…Feel this way, ignore your instincts, your intuition…” As with us all, this process began in childhood, when I was compulsively instructed. Yes, I was given choices, but was I ever given the choice to do nothing or to do whatever was my heart’s desire?  It was as though my parents feared I would become a cretin, devoid of any natural desire to be productive or well behaved, without their prescription for a productive life.

Aspirations for Week 26 of 52 

Changing My New Year’s Resolution

Just like Dorothy, from the Wizard of Oz, I am trying to find my way back home, the home of my soul, so that I no longer yearn for that ineffable yet desirable life. I am starved for a meaningful existence…not as defined by others but that is defined by me. In fulfilling my deepest wishes, my yearning will lessen and I will no longer attempt to satiate a need for a soulful life with the illusory, momentary fix of a British Mystery Series or food.

So for Week 26 of 52, I resolve to design my life, relying on my intuition and instincts, having faith that I have the skills and drive to make it happen!

Finding My Way Home

Finding My Way Home

Tags , , , ,
Categories 12 Step Program, childhood, Conscious Creativity, Creative Expression, Finding your Voice, love, Self Determining, the other woman, transformation, Wild Instinctual Woman

Week 25 of 52 Changing Nothing, Accepting Everything, in the Quest for a Spiritual Life

December 24, 2012 //
11

REFLECTIONS

“We are not here to fit in, be well balanced, or provide examples for others. We are here to be eccentric, different, perhaps strange, perhaps merely to add our small piece, our little clunky, chunky selves, to the great mosaic of being. As the gods intended, we are here to become more and more ourselves.”

― James Hollis, What Matters Most: Living a More Considered Life

 Christmas Eve! A celebration of new life!

Even during the darkest days of the year, I now know that new life is still being created, constantly…perpetually. And I am not just thinking of the precious tiny babies that are born this day, every day, but the never-ending creation of new life within the “self “…that mysterious place that connects each of us to each other and to the Unified Field, the source of all that exists. It is this paradox, that new life is created even in the darkest of times, that has given me hope for myself and our world. If indeed we are leaving the era of ego based creations, to an era where humans create consciously, from their hearts and souls, we will experience the dawning of a new age.

Conscious Creators of a New World

Conscious Creators of a New World

It seems the first half of life is meant to be spent discovering our real reason for being on this planet…and the second half to express this ‘soul self’, in whatever creative manner we feel moved to use. As I went about life in my 20’s, 30’s, and 40’s, embracing the ‘workaday’ world, making a living, a home and a family, a quiet but potent force nudged me to discover that which would truly fulfill my destiny on this planet. At my 50th birthday, I invited those people who had made an impact in my life, and thanked them for their love and support. What I was not conscious of was that I was saying goodbye to them and the material life I had cherished to that point. Unknowingly, I was about to set out on a quest to find a spiritual life. It was mandatory for my survival. I needed balance between the material and the spiritual, so that I could live from my soul, expressing myself consciously, from my heart, not just my mind.

My quest for a spiritual life had all the elements of any quest…a desire for a missing object or experience, that was of such inestimable valuable to me, the hunter, that any number of obstacles, including near death and blindness, would be willingly faced in its pursuit. Every culture, past and present, has fairy tales, myths and folklore depicting such journeys…Sir Galahad on his quest for The Holy Grail…the Heroine’s search for a husband in the fairy tale, ‘East of the Sun and West of the Moon’…’The Wizard of Oz’s’ Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman, and the Lion, searching for Kansas, brains, heart and courage, respectively…and Holden searching for a sense of purpose in ‘The Catcher in the Rye’.

Quest for Holy Grail
Quest for Kansas, brains, heart and courage!
Quest for a Husband
Quest for a Sense of Purpose
Quest for the Holy Grail

In finding that elusive and mysterious entity, we call the ‘spiritual life’, I can now live in balance between that and materialism, which encompasses the mundane but necessary aspects to keeping alive, sheltered and fed. Symbolically, perhaps, the image of the cross depicts this…the balance between spirituality and materialism. In finding this, after years of searching, after countless wrong turns, tragedies, mishaps and misadventures, I can live a life from my heart…my soul, expressing that which fulfills me.

Aspirations for Week 25 of 52

Changing Nothing, Accepting Everything, in the Quest for a Spiritual Life

I have come to accept, it makes no more sense to cling to a wonderful moment, a lovely day, a cherished friend or a material object than to wish away pain, or depression, stupidity or the drudgery of life. I cannot live in paradise if I want to grow into a conscious and fulfilled human. I have come to also accept that just as a garden goes through a cycle of deterioration, decline with eventual death, before there can a period of incubation, and creation of new life…so too must I.

I must allow old ideas and habits to die, when they no longer serve me well, just as I throw out clothes that no longer reflect the new me. When I was uptight and rigid, I wore very tailored and coordinated styles of clothing befitting a woman twice my age…now I am beginning to love clothes that flow!

So for Week 25 of 52, I will be Open Hearted to life’s moments as they are presented to me, willingly receiving whatever crosses my path.

Open Hearted to the Devine

Open Hearted to the Devine

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Categories Conscious Creativity, Creative Expression, Finding your Voice, Self Determining, the other woman, transformation

Week 24 of 52 Changing My Body’s Shape

December 17, 2012 //
1

Human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will melt the stars. 

Gustave Flaubert

REFLECTIONS

Some random thoughts on writing, self expression/exposure and society’s efforts to contain declarations of individuality.

Flaubert’s quote describing human speech echoes my sentiments when I’m writing. The process necessary to move beyond the cliche and to create an original thought is simultaneously laborious and exultant. I rely on images, anecdotes and symbolism to improve and enrich my inadequate language.

I listened to an interview with Kurt Vonnegut’s daughter, Nanette, where she described his abhorrence to writing. She said he felt as though he had no hands when he sat down to his typewriter to begin his dance with words… that he loved to paint, but felt compelled to write in response to his disgust with civilization(WW11/George Bush). This prompted me questioning the source of my compulsion to write in such an exposed manner, rather than concealing my observations in a fictionalized account. Perhaps my experience with a family and a culture that preferred the dark, less savoury elements of life to be either sanitized before exposure or denied outright, compelled me to tell the truth as I have experienced it. I have always felt that the real me danced to a drummer no one else heard, but until now, have lacked the chutzpah to dance alone. I could not tolerate being shunned, even minimally. Last Week’s Post, ‘Changing in the Dark’, allowed me to descend into the alienation of the shunned. Virtual hugs were sent… words of support were delivered(THANK YOU), giving me enough esteem to leave my cottage, and fly to Toronto to meet my family for Christmas.

Compelled to Write

Compelled to Write

 No matter the age of one’s children, they can be relied upon to notice changes in moods and behaviours, and if permitted, query the cause. So over breakfast my daughters commented on my clothing. For 3 days running, I had worn an old black sweater and pants, purchased in 1996, when preparing for my move to Albania. I said I was in mourning for the part of me buried beneath a dung heap of criticism. I went on to describe my present identification with the body malformation of Albanians who had lived under the horror of Enver Hoxha’s 40 year Dictatorship. Hoxha’s policies were enforced by imprisoning, executing, or exiling those who threatened his power. I told them about Ilir, the Company driver that was needed, to safely navigate the potholed streets as much as the politically unstable city of Tirana. Ilir was a well educated and sensitive man. Physically wizened, I thought he must be 65 and unwell. Shockingly, he was my exact age …43 and as healthy as one could be having lived in the most tightly controlled country in Europe. In contrast, his daughter, who was 15 was very tall and beautiful, having been better fed in a less tyrannical environment.

Father and son on their way to market near Tirana Albania

Father and son on their way to market near Tirana Albania

Tirana'a Outdoor Markets

Tirana’a Outdoor Markets

And then The Universe delivered me to The Art Gallery of Ontario…just in case I still needed convincing that our society distorts the human shape, but that restoration can occur through expressions of creativity.

Upon arriving at the AGO, we thought we would fortify ourselves with a drink from the bar, supposedly located on the 5th floor. Unable to find an elevator that went beyond the 2nd level, we walked up an enclosed, spiral stairwell in the centre of the gallery. By level 4 we were having an Escher type experience…

Climbing the Stairwell at AGO

Climbing the Stairwell at AGO

As we stumbled out of the stairwell, we walked into the middle of an Evan Penny exhibit! He is a Canadian artist who finds inspiration in the pervasive presence of manipulated images delivered daily by the mass media. He contends that as a society we accept these images as real, forgetting the degree to which they are manipulated.

Media’s Manipulation
What is Real?
Pervasive Presence of Manipulated Images

When we left the disorienting display of larger than life faces, we wound our way down to one of the most powerful female artists of the 20th century, Frida Kahlo. Of her 143 paintings, 55 are self-portraits which often incorporate symbolic portrayals of physical and psychological wounds…including her marriage, her miscarriages, and her numerous operations. She insisted,”I never paint dreams. I paint my own reality.” As tentative as I have been in describing my pain, she was explosive.

After Diego’s Affair
After Frida’s Miscarriage
A lifetime of Illness
The Impact of Diego Rivera

 

ASPIRATIONS FOR WEEK 24 OF 52

CHANGING MY BODY’S SHAPE

I feel encouraged to pursue my expression of reality as I experience it, after visiting the Art Gallery of Ontario. Although my body is far less contorted today than it was as few as 5 years ago when I began the process of healing, I am not comfortable in it. I feel congruent with my emotional, spiritual and psychological self, but not my physical self. As it is only in the past year that I have risked expressing myself artistically, possibly through a greater freedom of expression I will loose this sense of dissociation. So for Week 24 of 52 and beyond, I will continue to write, draw and dance on the wild side, in the hopes that my body finds its way back to itself!

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Categories Creative Expression, Finding your Voice, Self Determining, the other woman, transformation, Wild Instinctual Woman

Week 23 of 52 Changing in the Dark-Revisiting the Dashed Hopes of Christmas

December 11, 2012 //
8

REFLECTIONS

There can be no transforming of darkness into light without emotion

-Carl Jung

As I move towards the longest night of the year, I am compelled to walk into the inky starless sky, where I fear goblins under bridges and sea creatures under black waves. Feelings deep in my core perturb me…panic ensues and I try to run, but not wildly with the wolves, but cowardly with the jackals. What is this place I meet every year, in December? An internal war begins. Plans for the celebration of Christmas… singing carols, drinking Gluhwein, meeting family and friends… compete with an overwhelming urge to dig myself into a hole, lying in pain, in the dark. So I write a poem…

The Dark I Fear

 You are the wave I cannot stop.

You wash over me

You drag me under

You engulf my very soul.

 You are the wound I cannot staunch.

You bleed my pain

You ooze my libido

You thief of joy and hope.

 Your presence surrounds me like a gas.

I have no choice  but to inhale.

 Beaten

I

Succumb.

 forlorn

forsaken

diminished

bereft

 I weep the tears of the broken.

-Between2Marys December 2012

The Dark I Fear
The Dark I Fear
The Dark I Fear
The Dark I Fear

This fall, in an effort to create the life I desire, I put out a feeler to see if other writers in my area wanted to form a group. I wanted to meet with fellow ‘scribblers’ who shared my passion for creating, using the written word. Happily, I had a group of 8 almost instantly. My expectation was that we would be an encouraging and supportive environment.

After our first meeting in November, I happily added this group of writers to my list of those I alert via email, when I have launched a new post. I began this mailout in July 2012, a few weeks into The Other Woman Blog, for 2 reasons…first and most importantly, I wanted to share the real me with my friends, in an effort to end the life I had lived, under the umbrella of the persona. This was a huge risk, as I was ‘coming out’, vulnerable and naked, without the veneer of bravado and pretence. The second reason was less personal, but equally important to me. I wanted an audience, so I began to create a readership. This number has tripled in size since July when I began…WOW! (although if I only had 2 readers then, I’d have 6 now)…Conclusive statements from statisticians can so easily mislead…( NOTE as soon as I veer into the left brain, waxing on about  ‘statisticians’ …get suspicious, I’m avoiding…I’m more comfortable here than in the pain of existence) I’m embarrassed to admit how a trivial trigger spiralled me into the world of the dispirited, the disheartened, the disenchanted.

Here is the trigger…one comment I received back from my mailout to my writers’ group contained 8 simple words and a period. “I would rather not receive your blog updates.”

These 8 words and a period hurt my feelings deeply. I was drawn back to my sighting of the Canada Goose, shot through her foot by an arrow, that I had encountered on a walk in Week 21 of 52. When I had come upon her in the grasses, I had identified with her desperation but at the time I could not understand why. In my anthropomorphisation of her, I imagined her soaring alone with ease and confidence, doing what she was born to do. I then imagined her shock at being assaulted by the arrow of a heartless hunter. With her foot thus impaled, her demise became almost inevitable… By chance she was struck and by chance she might be saved.

I wanted to ignore the comment’s impact, by laughing it off or retaliating. I tried to prevent my tumble into the dark by listing everything I was grateful for, and when that didn’t work, I tried distracting myself with a French Mystery Series while eating calming carbs… but eventually I succumbed to the negative power of this force. In this black hole, I give up on my life…I stop writing and creating art, I stop having fun, and certainly stop all encounters with D! I pretend to be living. I smile, I talk, I act quite involved…but the real person has disappeared. I stop expressing from my heart and soul. The soaring bird has been quelled.

Injured Canada Goose

Injured Canada Goose

Why would this simple request from a fellow writer send me into a dispirited and hopeless place. It would only have this power if it was reminiscent of a deeply hurtful time in my childhood.

Childhood Memories

Childhood Memories

In December I feel vulnerable, as this season opens the ‘yet to be healed’ wounds of my youth, where my expectations for family joy and harmony were crushed by the dark reality of family unpredictability and chaos. Although The Other Woman Blog has allowed me to return to the soulful and hopeful person I once was, by letting me express aspects of myself that have remained buried beneath a pile of human dung, flung from adults behaving poorly, at this moment I am susceptible to judgement.

ASPIRATIONS FOR WEEK 23 OF 52

CHANGING IN THE DARK

I am in the dark right now, feeling the pain of the shunned soul. So now I will freely shed the tears of the child, knowing I will be comforted by my stronger self and all the other souls on earth who have felt like misfits in an incomprehensible world.  Wounding words of judgement, hurled by the weak, are flimsy barriers to our wildly creative selves. So for Week 23 of 52, I will let my painful emotions surface, having faith that through this release the darkness will lift, permitting the lights of Christmas to shine.

Emotion-Bringing Light to the Dark

Emotion-Bringing Light to the Dark

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Categories childhood, Finding your Voice, Jungian Analysis, Self Determining, the other woman, transformation, Wild Instinctual Woman
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