culture – Page 26 – One Woman's Quest

A Cup of Tea

My husband and I recently returned from a trip to the US, and as usual, the first thing I wanted on return was a cup of tea. It is the one thing – next to my own bed- that I miss the most when I am away.

What is it about a cup of tea?

Raised by a Brit, tea is part of my heritage. Growing up, we started every day with a cup of tea, and quite often ended each day with one also. I especially remember that as teenagers, my siblings and I would convene at the end of a night out and share stories over a late night cup of tea. Every dinner would end with someone putting the kettle on.

My children’s father was also a Brit, and he introduced me to tea time – a ritual cup every day at four o’clock, always accompanied by a sweet or biscuit.

The secret, not practiced in many restaurants, is in the preparation: the pot must be warmed first, and the boiling water added to the tea and not the other way around. In our family, the milk went in the cup first, with just the right amount of sweetener to offset any bitterness.

Special tea, a concoction of mostly warm milk and honey, with a splash of tea, is a family recipe for curing childhood ailments.

I don’t drink tea in the afternoon anymore as the caffeine keeps me up at night, and I have replaced the milk with non-dairy alternatives, but I still have a sense that all is not well unless I’ve started the day with that one lingering cup of tea, prepared just the way I like it.

Ahhh, the simple luxuries of home.

(Image: officemum.blogspot.com)

When Looking for Answers

The call came just as I was falling into a deep sleep, which didn’t help my mood. Neither my husband nor I recognized the number. After the usual formalities, Thor handed me the phone. It was a man who had tracked me down earlier in the year, looking for psychic counselling. Although I don’t practice anymore, I had made an exception for him.

“I need your advice,” he started. “I feel like things are shifting, and I have a new woman in my life. I think she is my soulmate.”

“You are not going to like what I have to say,” I interrupted. “I don’t believe in ‘soul mates’.”

“You don’t believe in reincarnation?”

“Yes, but not that there is only one person for us.” I really didn’t want to get into this right now.

“I think I have been downloaded several times.”

“Are you still there?”

“I don’t know what that means.” The conversation was becoming very irritating. ‘Downloaded’ was a new one to me, but I had heard lots – ‘walk-ins’, ‘star children’, among others.

“I am very pragmatic.” I warned. “If the idea or information is not practical, I avoid it.”

I cut the conversation short.

I understand the drive to find answers to life’s mysteries. I myself spent many years exploring different philosophies and theories, looking for one that would help me understand and feel in control. Truth is, none exist. No matter what we believe, or think we know, life is full of uncertainty, and yes, risk.

This caller, like many before him, wants to know that the choices he is making will lead to happiness and a better life. He wants to avoid pain and heartache, and above all, loneliness. He wants to believe in magic over common sense.

Whatever answers we seek, we need to be able to weigh them against some practical form of measurement. We need guidance for living a good life, not a promise that we will meet a ‘soul mate’ who will fulfill us, nor a foolproof plan for ensuring eternal bliss. Sound advice for slogging through the hard stuff, simplifying our lives, and being true to ourselves are the answers we should be seeking.

(Image: macpeanut.wordpress.com)

The Fourth Bun

The significance of the fourth bun comes from a story about a fool, who upon discovering it takes four buns to satisfy hunger, thinks that she can skip the first three and just eat the fourth with the same result.

I have been that fool.

* * * * *

“Why are you here?”

We are an eclectic group of first year psychology students: ten of us that have been appointed to this group facilitator. Meeting twice a week and doing “group therapy” is a requirement of the course.

“Because we have to be?” one student jests. Nervous giggles all around.

“No, really. Think about it? Are you here to fulfill your destiny, or are you here because that is what expected of you? Are you pleasing your parents?”

I knew I wasn’t pleasing my parents, well, at least not my mother. She didn’t see the point in women having an education. I was interested in psychology, but not yet sure that was the path I wanted to follow. Why was I here?

The question haunted me. What was I looking for? What did I hope to achieve?

The answers had nothing to do with education. On my own since seventeen, I had an intangible hunger that I sought to satisfy. I felt as if I was swimming in murky waters, unaware of the dangers beneath the surface, and just treading water on top. Trying to achieve my education, while having to work full-time to support myself was not easy. At some level, I knew that education held promise for the future, but the immediacy of my hunger overshadowed any rationality.

I wanted security: the kind of security offered by a stable home. I wanted to feel loved and supported, and not like I was clawing my way through life in order to survive. I wanted to not always have to be so strong and independent, and I wanted an end to this feeling of being so alone.

The first bun would have been to finish my education; two, to find a career; three would have given me time to establish my independence; and four to marry and create a family. Young and impulsive, I skipped to four.

Now I understand why I never found the satisfaction I was looking for. It took a long time for the hunger to subside.

(Image: leitesculinaria.com)

Mindfulness

“Can you consistently eat when you eat, and sleep when you sleep?” asks Derek Lin in “The Tao of Joy Every Day”.

Therapeutic Touch is a practice which teaches how to stay fully present and centered in the moment. Practitioners learn how to set aside all distractions so that they can focus completely on the treatment itself. Like many others, I struggled with this concept in the beginning. I would quiet my mind, focus on my breathing, and then remember I had forgotten to change the laundry over, or return my mother’s call. My mind, I discovered loves to travel in multiple directions at once.

To train myself, I would pick random times during the day and “check-in” on myself. The first thing I discovered was that I was driving without actually being aware of what I was doing. Behind the wheel, I felt an inexplicable need to be in front of the traffic, weaving in and out, tailgating, and exceeding the speed limit. I decided to replace this behaviour with mindful breathing, always bringing my awareness back to what I was actually doing. Instead of passing the car in front of me, I would take deep breaths, and will myself to stay aware. It didn’t take long before I began to notice other drivers like myself, driving aggressively. Ironically, I noticed that many of those drivers did not gain a lot of ground, having to stop for the same lights, and succumb to traffic. Remaining conscientious and choosing to drive mindfully, I knew myself to be a lot less stressed than those other drivers. It was an aha moment.

I learned how to bring my full attention to my clients, effectively able to sense the subtleties and different patterns they presented. I felt I had mastered this art.

Yet, in response to Lin’s question, I have to confess that I usually eat as an aside to whatever else I am doing, and when I sleep I toss and turn with thoughts of what was undone from the day before, or what needs to be done tomorrow.

I can’t help but think that if I could just focus on eating as a solo activity, I would be more conscious of the taste of the food and the response of my body, and maybe, just maybe, not eat to excess. I would have to turn off the t.v., and the computer, close the book, and just eat. It is a effort worth exploring.

As for sleeping, well, that is another matter. How does one clear the mind enough to just sleep?

(Image: healthyhappyhumanbeings.com)

Abuse and Money

I arrived home from school one day to find my mother sitting in a corner trembling, her face face blotched red and swollen from crying. “Mom?”

The eyes that stared back at me were distant. This was not my mother. I took stock of the situation. It was 3:15. My little sister would be home from school in half an hour. Dad would be home at 4:30 and expect dinner on the table. Nothing had been started yet. I dropped my books and got down to business.

“Mom. You need to talk to me. D is going to be home soon, and we have to get dinner on. What’s going on?”

She nodded slightly. “I can’t do it anymore. Your father……..” Her voice trailed off, but she didn’t need to say anything. I knew how brutal my father could be. I heard daily how stupid she was, and how she never cooked anything properly, even though that was her only job. I wanted her to leave him, too.

“I’ll do whatever I can, Mom. In two years, I can quit school, and get a job. I’ll support us.”

Was that a faint smile?

“We’ll make it work, Mom. We’ve got each other.”

Reaching for the pots and pans, I added, “Now what can we get started for dinner?” There would be hell to pay if dinner wasn’t on the table the moment my dad walked in.

* * *

At twelve years of age, I learned that money was what kept my mother in an abusive relationship. It never occurred to me that she had the option of getting a job; she was a stay at home mom. Five years later, we would go through a similar scenario, only then I was already living on my own, and had enough sense to get her to a lawyer. In the end, my father convinced her to stay.

Years later, I would find myself a stay at home mom, with a husband who controlled the purse strings. Like my mother, I felt powerless, and inferior. Unlike my mother, I left anyway. I braved poverty in order to find my worth. Nevertheless, I struggled, seldom able to give my children the material things they craved. I felt guilty, worthless, inadequate. After six years, I had a serious talk with God.

“God,” I said, “I want to make a difference in the world, but I can’t do it if I don’t even know where the next meal is coming from.”

I tried affirmations: All my needs are always met; there is enough for everyone.

Eventually, things turned around. Yet, my relationship with money has not yet healed. I want to be able to say the money’s the money, the way my new husband does. I want to be able to see money as a means to an end, and not the end of my means.

My attitude towards money still needs work, but I am ready for change.

(Image: empoweringparents.com)