musings – Page 2 – One Woman's Quest

Meaning of Life, Anyone?

If I could, I would ask the dead
about the secrets of life, raise
spirits to help me understand
this phenomena of cancer, the
need to find relief in addictions,
the key to successful relations.

Or perhaps It is the youth, set
on creating the next YouTube
sensation, who have insights
I should pay attention to, but
they seem to prefer contrived
reality, ignoring mundane life.

Asking the heads of education
what the guiding principles are
for living a good life seems use-
less; they are too buried beneath
the red tape of bureaucracy, out
of touch with front line teaching.

I might ask new immigrants who
carry with them an accented
authority and certainty about the
meaning of life that I have not
considered – their faith and hope
badges of courage that betray
our lack of social cohesiveness.

I feel compelled to investigate
why this hard-working, caring
soul has sold herself three times
for love and continues to come up
victim; is it an insatiable need
for attention or lack of willingness
to let go of the past and just be?

(Image: btloc.com)

It’s Not That I Don’t See…

Somewhere, searchers are combing through rubble
to find signs of life, or remains, while I fret over the
size of my belly, bloated by excess, filled by gluttony.

Somewhere, a mother pleas for the return of her child,
a daughter stolen, held by soldiers, while another cries
because her toddler’s coiffed appearance fails to win.

Somewhere, their village destroyed by war, families
flee to find peace, encounter rejection, and worse,
while a son murders his sister to honour family pride.

Somewhere, parents wait with terror-seized hearts
as a gun-wielding lunatic holds their children hostage,
while businessman fatten their wallets over arms sales.

Perspective tells me that I am unjustified to complain
over my first world problems, am selfish to bemoan
the trivialities of my self-centered existence, that I just

need to shift my viewpoint, look outside myself, and see
that inequalities and hardships beg for my compassion,
alter my focus and become a beacon for the world; and,

yet, I am overwhelmed by the tragedy that floods my
large screen tv, desensitized by the staged and unstaged
images of brutality, tired of the unsubstantiated claims

of terrorism, and the political garnering for votes; cannot
bear to hear of one more gun attack in a country where
the right to bear arms is confused with personal security;

feel out of control when I listen to stories of great loss,
am compelled to shut off the media, turn my attention to
self-criticism, and find a manageable issue close to home.

(Image: dict.space.4goo.net)

Superwoman’s Dark Side

fine-cut crystal, silver and gold
sparkle and entice. the table is laid
for guests aplenty.

savory aromas conjure visions
of sumptuous gravy, delectable roast,
crisp-cooked vegetables, and decadent desserts.

she’d stop to admire her handiwork,
but the children, tired and hungry
and bored with the waiting, tug at her hem.

Waiting. It is her greatest strength.
Prepare, prepare –
then wait.

They’ll arrive shortly, noisily
full of their days, faintly aware
of the backdrop, happy to have left the babies.

And they’ll sit and be served
and remark on the deliciousness
and gobble up seconds
then push back their chairs
and wander off for a kip
or a smoke

and she’ll linger for a few minutes
picking at her congealed gravy- covered mashed
unconsciously dabbing at the red wine stain on the tablecloth
and marvel at how she accomplished it all
once again
without bitching
without protesting
a trouper till the end

What’s that you say?
She’s sounding a bit like the martyr?

Oh no, you’ve found her out.
Superwoman has a dark side.

Sufficiency

My living room has beautiful big picture windows facing two directions, allotting me a full view of the neighbour’s front gardens to the north, and the constant comings and goings on the street in front of the house. Lying on the couch with my morning cup of tea is how I like to greet the day.

On Sunday mornings, the rush of traffic is replaced by clusters of runners, with their long, sleek bodies, puffed out reddened faces, and self-satisfied grimaces.

“My wife had CFS,” a man once told me, “but now she runs marathons.”

It is hard for me to believe. The distance between my own physical capabilities and these weekend athletes far exceeds any race they might run, the copper-coloured legs of my sidekick walker remind me.

Maybe wheelchair races, I chuckle to myself.

Now that my life is confined to the four tiny rooms on the main floor of our home, I have new perspective.

I cannot remember a time when I did not feel lacking in my life – not enough hours in the day, not enough help, not enough money – but the truth is, in retrospect, I always had exactly what I needed.

Today, I do not have the legs to carry me swiftly on my way, nor do I have the energy to aspire to such feats, but I do have a home that I can easily navigate, surrounded by the endless beauty of Nature, and friends and family that truly care.

Abundance, I am discovering, is an attitude, not a state of material wealth. It comes with the recognition that life is sufficiency, not lack.

One Thing

Sipping my second cup of morning tea, I breathe in the solitude that nature dropped on my doorstep overnight: great mounds of white, silently commanding the world to a halt. The tea is extra sweet and warming when accompanied by the luxury of leisure time.

Shaking off the frayed edges of yesterday’s insanity, I contemplate a more relaxed day – some laundry that has needed tending to all week, a few hours of schoolwork, and maybe even an apple crumble.

The snow continues to fall outside my window, softly, without a sign of letting up and I rise from my last sip and stretch, lingering to revel in the majestic beauty of the landscape before me.

Yesterday, everything was chaos, or so it seemed. The wind was howling and a cold sleet constantly beat against the windows, and indoors, the students were restless, hyper, inattentive, and I was short on patience. There is always a multitude of things happening at any time in my room: students writing tests, students working on past due assignments, students looking for refuge from out of control classrooms, and, of course, my own class. My own class, who would not settle; could not settle, as it was Friday, and the weather report promised snow, and it is only a month to Christmas, and Do we really have to read?! And as I hushed them for the third or fourth time, all hell broke loose as a face pressed up against our classroom window: the face of a missing member of my flock, not warm and contained in my room, but running wild outside with two other truants.

I sigh, and glance outside again at the marvel that is the first snowfall. Untouched purity. And I cozy inside.

The laundry is scattered about the house in various stages of completion. Some sorted and ready for washing, some wrinkled in the dryer awaiting rescue, and some folded in baskets wishing to be put away. It is symbolic of my life, I realize, that nothing ever really gets completed. The too many demands of my job eat away at my attention until there is nothing left to offer any one task, and so none of it is done properly, and I am left exhausted, and discontented, wondering if anything I do is of value.

Today, I will finish the laundry, and not leave any remnants, and I will clean up the kitchen, and bake that crumble, and get work done, because I can. And I will feel the satisfaction that comes with being able to do one thing at a time: the satisfaction of completing a task.

Thank goodness for Mother Nature’s intervention, and the subtle reminder to value the simple times.

If only I could bring this serenity into my everyday life.

Independence

“Take the train into the city, Mom. It would be so much easier.”

“No,” I insisted. “I like the independence of having my car.”

So, I arrived at my daughter’s Monday morning to find there were no parking spaces on her street. I texted her to meet me outside. It was close to lunch time, so I suggested we go for some lunch and then, hopefully, find a place for my car afterwards. I parked near the restaurant, which was just blocks away from her home.

“I can leave my car here.”

“No, parking here is only one hour. We’ll have to move it after lunch.”

We lingered on the patio, enjoying the day and catching up on each other’s lives.

After lunch, we drove around again, searching in vain. I parked in the one hour zone again, hoping something would come up later.

We rested for a while, then drove the car to get some groceries from the store that was, also, just around the corner. On our return, I found a spot across from their townhouse.

“I won’t want to move my car any time soon,” I joked.

And, in fact, I didn’t. My daughter’s home is situated in a trendy neighbourhood close to shops and restaurants – really anything you need is in walking distance. My car, it turned out was just a burden.

My need for “independence”, on my terms, really only complicated things for me.

I wonder how many other routines or habits complicate my life.

Simplifying my life means being willing to let go of some of the beliefs that I cling to, and being open to another way of doing things.

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 Kingdom

The King sat at his favourite lookout pondering his life. He rested his chin on the large gold ring that adorned his index finger and adjusted his ermine cloak around him, as a chill ran over him. An omen? he wondered. He sighed. What is the matter with me? My queen loves me…well, at least when she’s not preoccupied with all the other commitments she makes. Not many kings can say that.

He looked out over the vast valley below him, and couldn’t help but feel pride that all this belonged to him. A mist hung over the village, but it was early yet, and all that would soon dissipate and the sun would shine once again on his kingdom.

My son is off at University, bettering himself, his thoughts continued. What more could one expect from a future King, even if he is forty? I just wish he’d settle on something! The King sighed again. The chill came once more. Maybe I’m coming down with something. I’ll have to call the Royal Physician.

The mountains that surrounded his kingdom were now emerging from the fog, He loved these mountains. They were like old friends that never faltered: strong and bold. He could stare at their magnificence all day.

He continued to take inventory of his life. My daughter is as a princess should be: beautiful, articulate, kind; I just wish she would come down from that tower! Admittedly, he’d locked her there years ago, after that awful incidence with that man – and a peasant, too – but she wasn’t getting any younger, and, well…… He sighed again, looking heavenwards. So much for one man to manage, God.

At least my kingdom is at peace. The thought warmed him. He loved his people. He loved their industry, their loyalty, and above all, he loved it when they were all content. It had been over thirteen years since they’d suffered any strife. He didn’t want to think about those times. Four years the battle had gone on, and while they won, they had also lost so much. Ah, well, such is the price of war.

The King shifted his position. He was feeling it again: the restlessness. He hated this sensation; it made him feel as if he wasn’t in control, and he couldn’t abide that. Two weeks ago he’d sent the Royal Page out on a mission to find something to cure this abomination, but the boy had not yet returned. Blasted child! the King thought to himself. I should have sent a man. Or maybe a woman. But who else could be trusted?

Wrestling with his thoughts, the King failed to notice that the sky had cleared and the valley was now in full view. All was not calm. There, in the middle of town, stood an eight-foot-tall dragon, breathing fire, and lashing his long spiky tail in a wide, destructive arc. People were fleeing in droves, their cries filling the air.

At first, the King thought it was the cry of the morning birds he was hearing, but soon he recognized the sounds of panic. Alert once more, he spotted the source of the problem. What the…..? “Guards!” The King was up and running.

A call went out in the castle, and all available knights mounted their steeds in a race to save the kingdom.

But this was no ordinary dragon. He moved with the agility of a trained martial artist: eluding the knights lances, and scorching them as they passed. Within the hour the streets had cleared, and no one dared approach the beast. It looked as if the town was lost.

Then one lone figure stepped out from the shadows. Bare legs and arms revealed the slender figure of a young woman. Clad only in a deerskin tunic, her hair pulled back in tidy braids, she held what looked like a tree branch at her side. She approached the dragon from the side, and all gasped as the dragon caught the young woman in his peripheral vision. Ten feet away, she stopped and nodded slightly to the beast, holding her hand up, palm towards him, as if in greeting.

The beast groaned, but seemed to settle.

The woman spoke a few words that surely only the dragon could hear. The dragon let out a howl, and the crowd screamed in response, but the young woman remained calm, gesturing to the crowd to stay back and be quiet.

She took another step. The dragon shifted its weight, angling slightly towards her. The crowd held its breath. The King too.

Then the young woman did an extraordinary thing. She sat down.

The dragon sat down.

She stretched out her legs, and leaned back on her arms, in a state of repose.

The dragon stretched his paws out before him, and laid his head on the ground before him.

The young woman then laid herself down and gently rolled over, closing in on the dragon. To the amazement of all gathered there the dragon didn’t flinch, in fact, some would say later that the dragon itself, moved towards her, but the King was so excited by what was happening, that he didn’t see any of that. He’d run off to the stables to get himself a horse. He needed to meet this dragon-tamer, and now!

By the time the King caught up them, the young woman had mounted the back of the dragon, who was contentedly munching on the tree branch.

“Stop!”

The dragon and his rider blinked in unison, turning their heads to find the source of this command. The woman whispered to the dragon and he stopped eating. She stayed where she was.

“Your Majesty,” she bowed her head out of courtesy.

“What is going on here?”

“I am Sheboygan, and this is my friend, the dragon.”

“Your friend! Did you cause this destruction?”

“Oh no!” protested Sheboygan. “I have no desire to destroy your kingdom. I noticed that the dragon was missing and I came in search of him. That is all.”

“Explain yourself, young lady.”

“I am Sheboygan,” she repeated with authority. “I live beyond the woods, near the body of water over there.” She pointed to the west. “The dragon is my neighbour. I know him to be peaceful and loving, but when I saw he was gone, I knew something must be wrong. So I came in search of him.”

“If this dragon is peaceful, why did he just threaten my village?”

“He didn’t mean to, your Majesty. He was only looking for food.”

“For food? What does he eat, children?”

“No, not at all. He is vegetarian. He eats only the fruit and berries of a particular tree. But sometime in the night, all those trees were cut down. He must have been awfully hungry to show such anger here.”

The King started to say something, but found he was at a loss for words. A vegetarian fire-breathing dragon? Who’d ever heard of such a thing? Was he dreaming?!

“I don’t understand. Who would cut down those alleged trees, and why?”

“You’ll have to look to your own people, King, to answer that question.” And with that, dragon and rider ambled off.

The King, who didn’t like it when things happened without his knowing, called an immediate meeting of his advisors. While the men were assembling, the King spotted his Page sneaking in through the a side door.

“Halt, there! I’ve been looking for you.”

The Page looked exhausted. His hair was all array, and bits of twigs and leaves clung to his tunic.

“What is this?” the King demanded, pointing to a saw the young man was holding. “What have you been up to? Cutting down trees, perhaps?”

The young man couldn’t tell a lie, especially to his ruler. Holding up the saw, he proclaimed: ” I was finding a cure for your restlessness, you Majesty.”

“Yes, yes I’d say!” remarked the King. “Effectively so, and you almost caused me my kingdom.”

“Oh, no, Sire! The dragon was harmless! I swear!”

“Well, you certainly shook things up young man. Now tell me, who was the young woman that saved the day?”

“Sheboygan? She’s a friend of mine, Sire. A very worthy young woman.”

“Worthy, indeed. In fact, I’d say the two of you are just what this kingdom needs. Clean yourself boy, and get some sleep. I’ll be expecting yourself and your young maiden friend at supper this evening. Now go!”

With that the King spun on his heels and strode into the council chambers where his advisers were gathered. “Gentleman,” the King began, “today marks a time of change, and as with all change, there must be death before there can be rebirth. While we have known peace in this kingdom for some time, we have also grown stagnant, and that can be a problem unto itself. Today, in a time of real need, no one was able to rise to the occasion and defend this kingdom but one lone young woman. None of our forces, and certainly none of you, were of help. It took the energy and willingness of the young to make a difference.”

“But, your Majesty, the dragon was a formidable foe, even our best knights could not defeat him. What were we to do?”

“The dragon appeared to be an insurmountable force, but you, like many of us, were fooled by appearances. I pay you to see beyond appearances. Your job is tell me what is really happening. I have not felt at peace for sometime, and I now realize why : I have been depending on men whose heads are in the sand, men who are not informed enough to give me the right advice when I need it.”

“But, your Grace…..”

“But nothing. This dragon has lived on the fringe of our community for some time, yet none of you took the time to find about it. A young woman did what none of you, and a legion of men could not!” The King’s anger was rising, the veins in his neck popping as he raged. “From this moment, you are all demoted! I’ll let you know your new positions, when I’ve had time to think.”

Heads hung in shame throughout the room. The men daren’t look at one another, knowing full well that what the King had said was true. They had been lax. They had wiled away their days with trivial activities, sated with complacency. The King was right; they deserved to be disciplined.

“In the meantime, I have found myself two new advisers, and we shall be welcoming them at a feast tonight. Busy yourself with the preparation, and make it fitting for a young woman and man of their nature. Have the Royal Guest rooms prepared, and make arrangements for the young woman to be properly attired.” Then on second thought, the King added: “No, scratch that. Let her come in the style she chooses. Find appropriate entertainment. Now be on your way. I must advise the Queen.”

Solemnly, the group of men began to disperse. They were not happy with the outcome, but they knew their King to be just. In time; all in good time, they told themselves.

“Oh, and would someone please remind the Princess that the door to the Tower is no longer locked, and suggest that she might want to join us.”

* * * * * *

Part II – “The Valley”

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)

Mapping Life

If you could make a map of your life, what would it look like? Have you walked one path, or several? Has the terrain been flat or rocky? What would the road ahead look like?

Let’s see if I can describe the map of my life.

My beginnings were in the east, at the edge of residential land, bordering on industrial. The path I was born on was bordered by rosebushes, but despite the flowery hope, the thorns were painfully evident. Not yet able to carve my own path, I was often passed over fences and imposed upon others.

At four, we moved west as a family and the path seemed to open up, and brought the fertile promise of new topsoil. It was here that I began to picture a direction of my own, and dreamed of writing, teaching, and fighting for children’s rights. But the richness of the soil proved superficial, and the foundation started to crack, and suddenly, we veered off course.

The new road took us out of town, away from the familiar, and on the edge of an escarpment. The way was marked by rocky crevices, and treacherous footings. As strong and independent as I tried to be, there were too many dark places here, and my confidence was shaken.

By the time we ventured back to my hometown, I had already disengaged myself from my parents’ path, and began to carve my own. The beginnings were not auspicious. I was headed into a dark, overgrown forest, which would trip me up many times over the next couple of years, causing me to grasp at any beam of light, desperately looking for a way out.

I came to clearings from time to time, and if you look closely, you will see the areas that I clear cut myself, out of sheer determination to make that time of my life count.

Then there are the moments where the path lifted me out of the woods and onto the sunny, green hilltops, and life was good again. And I resumed my dreams, and pursued my studies, and became a mother.

Until the earth opened up and swallowed me momentarily, but I climbed out of that, and for awhile I walked along the beaten path, not really sure if I belonged, but not wanting to miss out either. See my footprints there, hesitant, beside the road?

And see where I started to carve out yet another new route? There, where the trees are not so dense, and the wood is new, and spring green. Notice how the path begins to develop, wobbly a bit, at first, then straightening out, making it’s way in a slow ascent along that mountainside. There are the plateaus I have talked about, and look there, where I took a steep climb. Those were good times. I had purpose then, and felt so alive.

The path goes underground for awhile. You can’t see it, but it winds its way through the caves. I can tell you, I tried a few different trails while I was under there, but eventually settled on the one I’m on now. You can see it emerging, there at the top of the map, where the mountain opens up to a green valley. I’ll be resting here awhile, but the journey is not over yet.

Just over that next hill there is a village, and beyond that village, on the horizon, an ocean. Looks like there will be a few more peaks to master, and that the road might double back once or twice, but I am hoping for a beautiful landscape ahead, and a lot more ease of travel.

Try it yourself. Draw a map of your own life.

(Image: yourlifemapping.com)