Gender Roles

October 4th, 2011

I recently took my child to visit his grandparents for a week. It’s always interesting hearing the things he comes up with in this completely different – often dysfunctional – environment; a setting that brings out in him a renewed confidence to speak his mind … ironic considering I tended to forget I had one when I was living there.

Sitting at the dinner table one evening, we were talking about someone we had met on a picnic, commenting on his wonderful sense of humour and eclectic flair. My father seemed out of the loop so my mother leaned in close and filled him in. “He’s gay!” she said in a whisper that made it sound criminal, her eyes flashing over to where my child was sitting.

“Pffft,” my child muttered, drawing himself up tall, folding his arms and mustering all he could of his six-year-old ego. “You do know that men can marry men and women can marry women, don’t you? Don’t you?” he demanded. I gave him the proud mum look … with a touch of amusement … then sniggered into my pumpkin risotto, waiting for a response. There was a stammering from the other side of the table … then silence … before my – much older – niece broke in with, “And men can marry women.”
“Ha!” came the reply. He smiled, relaxed and uncrossed his arms. “OB-viously!” he chuckled and continued with his dinner.

I don’t always know where he gets his information but I try not to shush him when he’s expressing himself even when it is at the expense of ‘normal’ dinnertime conversation in a house where even I am still learning how to fully express myself. I’ve learnt, though, since a recent conversation with my mother that perhaps we both need a lesson in boundaries when visiting there. There is a possibility my house will be sold and I will need to be out before Christmas. I have been telling everyone I’ll be going to Durban to stay with my folks for a while until I find somewhere to live, taking the unconditional love of my parents for granted. Prematurely it seems! My mother’s response to my suggestion was, ā€œHaha, it’s not going to happen.ā€ Clearly she has no trouble expressing herself … loud and clear!

 

Quick, get me some weeds

October 3rd, 2011

I used to live in London; my first abode a bedsit in North Eyot Gardens. It took me a while to get to wonder about the meaning of the name but once I found out what an eyot is I took a stroll down to the river to take a look. Sediment, deposited in the Thames over time, had formed a small island in the river, diverting the flow; steady around one side and fast around the other.

Sediment has been forming in my river lately and my flow bumped headlong into in about half an hour ago when I came across a Spanish song I downloaded and never bothered to translate – because the river was flowing too fast at the time – it was a song from my Love and I was drowning him in my torrent at the time. My river has hit this mound and has turned into a swirling whirlpool … but, before it gets tumbled over rocks and completely washed away, I will imprint it on my time capsule of all things tumultuous in my life.

I have not gone anywhere like the song suggests; on the contrary,Ā he has set up his own diversions to keep his river from merging with mine – wants to take in the beauty from a safe distance, avoiding the rapids and the whirlpools – but he wants me to flow beside him in case he ever needs to use my water.

Read it and weep. And in your weeping add water to my river, which must now get fuller and stronger to push through this diversion … because nothing must be allowed to stop it now.

Te mando flores-Fonseca
I am sending you flowers

Te mando flores que recojo en el camino
I am sending you flowers, which I picked up on the road
Yo te las mando entre mis sueos
I am sending them to you between my dreams
Porque no puedo hablar contigo
Because I can’t speak with you
Y te mando besos en mis canciones
And I am sending you kisses in my songs
Y por las noches cuando duermo
And during the nights when I sleep
Se juntan nuestros corazones.
Our hearts are coming together.

Te vuelves a ir
You go away again
Y si de noche hay luna llena
And if there is a full moon by night
Si siento fro en la maana
If I feel cold in the morning
Tu recuerdo me calienta
Your memory warms me
Y tu sonrisa cuando despiertas
And your smile when you wake up
Mi nia linda yo te juro
My beautiful baby I swear to you
Que cada da te veo ms cerca.
That every day I see you closer.

Y entre mis sueos dormido
And while sleeping between my dreams
Trato yo de hablar contigo y sentirte cerca de m
I am trying to speak with you and feel you near me.
Quiero tenerte en mis brazos
I want to have you in my arms
Poder salir y abrazarte y nunca ms dejarte ir.
To be able to come out and hug you and never again let you go.

Coro:
Quiero encontrarte en mis sueos
I want to find you in my dreams
Que me levantes a besos
To get up with kisses
Ningn lugar est lejos para encontrarnos los dos
There is no place too far away for the two of us to meet
Djame darte la mano
Let me give you my hand
Para tenerte a mi lado
To have you by my side
Mi nia yo te prometo que ser siempre tu amor
My baby I promise you I will always be your love
No te vayas por favor.
Please don’t go away.

Te mando flores que recojo en el camino
I am sending them to you between my dreams
Yo te las mando entre mis sueos
I am sending them to you between my dreams
Porque no puedo hablar contigo
Because I can’t speak with you
Y voy preparando diez mil palabras
And I am preparing ten thousand words
Pa’ convencerte que a mi lado
In order to convince you to stay by my side
Todo ser como so amos.
Everything will be like we dreamed it.

Y entre mis sueos dormido
And while sleeping between my dreams
Trato yo de hablar contigo y sentirte cerca de m
I am trying to speak with you and feel you near me.
Quiero tenerte en mis brazos
I want to have you in my arms
Poder salir y abrazarte y nunca ms dejarte ir.
To be able to come out and hug you and never again let you go.

 

The Goose and the Gander

October 2nd, 2011

I had a flashback to a scene from When Harry met SallyĀ … Carrie Fischer’s character was divorcing her husband and they were sitting in the living room sorting through who gets what and I seem to remember a fight over … uh … was it really a wagon wheel table? My memory may be playing tricks on me for the purpose of this blog post but … at the end of the day it all boils down to Stuff. You want it even if you don’t want it. I’m not terribly sentimental about stuff but there are certain things that belong to me; they are part of me and part of my story. If they went up in smoke I probably wouldn’t miss them but the idea of them being in someone else’s house out of spite is not a place I care to go. I’m used to my buttons being pushed but it feels like they’re being pushed with an electric probe these days. I’ve felt a fair amount of spittle fly into my face lately, but since learning a new use for my word, Trust, I can let the hostility slide over me. I can Trust that I will be bombarded with verbal, email and sms abuse about anything from the state of the garden to the friends I hang out with but I can now also Trust that an apology isn’t far behind. For most things…

ā€œI think what I am doing is very different from what you did.ā€ The sms glared at me from my Nokia screen and I glared back until the screensaver came on. Like so many things these days, the ā€˜conversations’ tend to end right there, requests for elaboration futile.

ā€œI hate to generalise,ā€ a male friend of mine said, ā€œbut it’s weird; it’s just a guy thing. Ego maybe.ā€ I was telling him about my husband’s big Secret about having a Girlfriend. I knew of course – small world that it is, my people know her people – but it was still just a rumour until he told me himself months later … and only because I inadvertently prompted it. I had, after all, told him the moment I met My Guy even though we were already separated. I was relieved by the news and felt smug about how he can no longer be self-righteous about my ā€˜affair’ and I threw my head back and laughed at his hypocrisy about not being able to move on until the divorce was final. None of it really matters you see – it is such a tiny blip on an antiquated radar – our relationship has been over for years and I want him to be happy in the same way I found life after death … albeit temporarily. But playing the guilt and blame card still? … trying to absolve himself by comparing? … hmm, it just doesn’t sit right.

Is that really just a guy thing? Does Ego really excuse hostility, hypocrisy and self-righteousness? I hope it’s just a phase. Like my great-grandmother, Dottie, used to say, through her cracked lips and crooked teeth, ā€œThis too shall pass.ā€

 

 

Prince? What Prince?

September 30th, 2011

I did this fun survey thing a few years ago and, reading it now, notice that not much has changed – apart from the obvious … and the fact that I am now most definitely more of a morning person indulging, most days, in a hearty breakfast. But the most apt feedback right now is the following:

9. What kind of car do you drive?
Beetle (LHD from Holland) … ten years old – it’s the love of my life and I would only replace her for a Beetle, circa 1970 … or the next fabulous hybrid if I manage to get the thing referred to in 52 below.
(If you want to know the answer to 52, best you click on the link below and read the survey):
http://www.bhalababy.com/2008/11/07/survey-2008/

Seems like my car breaking down and my getting to drive an old red Beetle, circa 1970, is actually just me Living My Dream. Very Clever of me getting my camshaft to just snap right off like that! It’s not only good laugh-a-minute fun entering a time warp to my early twenties (appropriate considering…), it’s grounding me and I don’t want to give it up … yet!

It’s turned me into a modern day Cinderella – the clock struck 40 and my carriage turned back into a pumpkin. I have lost my prince and there isn’t a Glass Slipper in sight … not that my modern day prince would have bothered to look for it anyway … and I have banished the Fairy Godmother from the land for playing such Foolish Tricks on me in the first place.

Coincidentally the very newest Beetle is rolling off the production line, but I still don’t have that thing in 52 so my next address downgrade will come with a car downgrade too … although one princess’s downgrade is another one’s dream.

ā€˜Careful what you wish for’, they say … Hell, why?

 

Chakra Talk

September 28th, 2011

So she bought the Diva Eats Homework story … but she gave me tougher homework this time. A few of my chakras are out and they need some serious PT to pull them ā€˜back in’. My heart chakra is totally closed, as is my base chakra and my throat chakra is way open and way closed all at the same time.

The problem with my throat chakra is that it closes up and then all of a sudden opens way too much and then I talk … a LOT. On my own I am rediscovering the truth of who I am – very upbeat, relatively chilled, and not at all angry. The first two still apply but the last one … geez … we’re talking Tourette-style outbursts that would clear the shelves of Coleman’s English mustard at the local Pick n Pay should I still be a teenager in my mother’s house. But when the words spew forth during a normal conversation, I am fortunately as inappropriately amused by them as I would be were they falling from the lips of someone with the actual disorder. But apparently my laughter and subsequent self-deprecation won’t cut it; I need to do some serious work in the area … on quality as well as quantity.

Base has been out for a while – I eat root vegetables, I wear red and tuck various semi-precious stones of varying frequency into my bra, I do kriya and I go for dips in the ocean. But until I stop sabotaging my health and until I feel secure in the world and until I can trust without fear of abandonment, I can consume all the beets in the world for the good it’s going to do me. Grounding myself is tough when I have always been rooted in the air.

My offensive language and health issues do not, however, come close to the work required to prevent heart failure. My formerly open heart chakra that brought with it the characteristics of love, compassion, empathy and altruism is probably where most of my work lies. Closed doesn’t look good on it. But I too readily shed my cloaks, and I then opened my heart too wide … my soft landing turned out to be a rocky outcrop and my knuckles are white from hanging onto the edge. I’ll be letting go any day now.

Today brings the new season’s new moon, Navratri and a nine-day fast, which is sure to bring alignment, focus and the emergence of new possibilities … and maybe even a new vocabulary. But not just yet. My car broke down again today – Ā£%$%!^Ā£$@&^%& – and while I was still adjusting, through new awareness, my approach to the situation, the mechanic’s intern approached me shyly and offered me the use of his car. I recognised the part in me that wanted to say ā€œNoā€ but I shushed her while fuelling the car from a jerry can and push-starting it down the hill. Driving an old beat-up Beetle with no petrol gage, a dodgy battery and an ignition that needs gentle coaxing to fire it up is definitely good for the heart chakra; it’s red so the base chakra is sorted, and the whoops and hollers as I will it up hills opens my throat to a healthy volume.

No theme song today so I end with a quote from the chakra book I’m reading:
“For one human being to love another human being; that is perhaps the most difficult task that has been entrusted to us, the ultimate task, the final test and proof, the work for which all other work is merely preparation.ā€ – Rainer Maria Rilke

At last I understand this doesn’t mean romantic love but the love that flows from my heart for all – that is the real love that will open my heart again. And the grounding trust will flow from that place and hopefully put a lid on my foul mouth. I often wish I could put a lid on transformation … but it would be something like damning the Thames and my river needs to flow if I am one day going to emerge the person I am meant to be.