Collective magic

The music building to a crescendo. Thousands of hands meeting in unison. The clapping creating a deep bass drum rhythm that somehow links us all.

The same is possible with dance. With celebration. With mourning. Solidarity

These are the great levelers of the human experience. In these experiences we can forego our personal identity and feel at one with thousands of strangers. These experiences change us. It always feels as though a little part of my defenses, my separateness, is lost after a ‘group moment’.

These times remind me, I like to think, of how we could relate to humanity. If we just let ourselves. They remind me of a better way.

Bless our musicians, our sports heroes, our leaders, our idols who can precipitate such events. Perhaps they hold a key to a more peaceful planet.

The damsel’s lesson

I am the first to criticize the ridiculous  Hollywood view of romance and love. It is out of control and totally unrealistic. The idea that a woman needs a man to rescue her from a ‘loveless’ existence is insulting and dare I say it well-meaning.

Stories are powerful. Very powerful. And there is a reason we are re-telling the same stories now that were told hundreds of years ago.

Oral history was once the way we learned of the world. Parables and allegories have been guiding us since our childhood. Since humanities childhood. Some stories are so powerful that almost every culture has a variation of the same theme. Stories and the players in these stories are so ancient, so integral to our lives, that they have become archetypes that we unconsciously breathe life into every day.

The nursery rhymes of today were warnings of yester-year. The  fairy tales of our childhood once taught what it meant to be a man and a woman. The stories of the Princess marrying the Knight that rescued her have some merit. Hold on. Before you take off my head with one bite, let me remind you that I am a (albeit failed) feminist at heart. There are literally hundreds of versions of this story, but they all boil down to this; his ability to remain unfaltering in the face of obstacles freed her, and in return her love sets him free. That sounds rather equal and honouring to me.

The age old drama doesn’t sound quite so ridiculous any more does it? It sounds almost evolved to me…

Lets look closer. The man of the story invariably demonstrates equanimity. THE most attractive quality in a man. You may say you look for a man who can make you laugh, or someone who is honest with you, and maybe you are right. But I say you would pick the man who holds the ground solid beneath your feet so you can dance to the beat of your own drum over a goofball or the guy who tells you your bum really does look big in those pants, any day of the week. I know I did. Not sure? Check out this song and tell me if you would not be drawn in by this level of dedication.

The man in this story is tested and is proved to be worthy. He has demonstrated, beyond the shadow of a doubt that he honours the lady, by setting about the quest. He has proven to be strong and grounded by achieving the quest and he didn’t have time to visit the whorehouse when he was slaying dragons or vanquishing the witches, so it’s a safe bet that he is a one woman kinda guy.

As for the woman she is essentially feminine. No by that I don’t mean weak, or feeble or a victim. I mean that she is magnetic. The rescuer is drawn to her, not for her achievements or actions, but for who she is. She is allowing and gracious and loving. Her heart is the rescuers prize and her love soothes the battle weary warrior.

The story of the damsel in distress is important and powerful. It is a way our fore-mothers reach out to us instructing us to shine our true self forth and to test the men who are drawn to it. And their advice is when we do find a partner who is as strong as we want to be free, that we love him with all we have.

So, Hollywood may bastardise it and hide its worth beneath makeup, special effects and poor story lines, but we continue to be transfixed because the integrity of the tale remains.

You gotta have soul

I love music. Pretty much all music. Well most, anyway. (Rap and death metal being two exceptions). My music collection spans the Crooners of the 1940′s to current pop stylings of Pink. I love rock and punk, folk and even some country. You’ll often hear my radio tuned to jazz, but acoustic rock and gospel are probably the two genres that really make my heart sing.

For years I have been ashamed to admit some of my favourite songs and totally baffled as to how the music of the day (presumably my day) doesn’t click with me. I know I will cop some flack for saying this (translation form Aussie slang I’ll get shit for saying this) but so much of today’s music lacks soul. There I said it. And I’m willing to defend it, too.

Now before I totally betray the musicians of today, of which many are outstanding artists, I should put this all in context. Music is a transformative medium. It has been used in rituals for worship, healing, and celebration in every culture all throughout history. Music has fueled many a revolution and moved listeners to feel the full gamut of emotion.

Herein lies my disappointment; the music of my generation doesn’t really (collectively) say all that much. And a lot of what it says I don’t want to hear. Case in point David Guetta’s “Sexy Bitch”. Oh please, the least disrespectful thing you can use to describe her is ‘sexy bitch’? Give me a break.

There will always be the trashy light music of the day thats purpose is solely to provide entertainment and enjoyment. Think disco and dance music. But the popular music of a time really interprets and reflects the happenings of the day. Our music reflects only personal dramas. Personal triumphs. Personal pain. The closest we have to anthems for a generation are Green Day Time of your life, Tomorrow by Silverchair, Dammit by Blink 182 or Crazy by Gnarles Barkley. Which pale in comparison to Queen, Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Sex Pistols & Nirvana who championed generations before.

Pink has tried with Mr. President. John Butler Trio put in a good effort. Jack Johnson even writes about recycling. The Black Eye Peas manage to have a point while they inspire our ‘good night’s out, but they alone cannot breathe fire into the hearts of a generation. Our artists may not have a civil rights movement or the Vietnam war to draw on like the heroes of the 60′s and 70′s. We may not be fighting the establishment as we did with the birth of punk in the 70′s and 80′s. But you cannot tell me that when Rap and Hip hop came to the fore in the 80′s and 90′s that our rock and folk artists lost the ability to inspire us. Or that we live in a Utopian society with nothing to inspire them.

Thank heavens for Coldplay, U2, The Killers, Green Day, Foo Fighters for the soul they inject into a seemingly shallow industry at times. Let us hope they are still rocking on in 30 years time like their forefathers Dylan, Cohen and Cash all who had albums feature in the top 100 albums of the 00′s.

Please prove me and my (secretly folk loving) musical heart wrong. What are the anthems of our (Gen Y) generation? Who is still flying the flag and writing to inspire us all?

No. I wasn’t checking out a 17 year old…

Have you ever felt that you were in a time warp? Have you ever felt like you are talking to an older or younger version of yourself? Have you ever met someone so familiar that they felt like instant family?

My waiter on the weekend shook my partner’s hand as we paid the bill and gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. What the? Inappropriate. Unprofessional. Utterly random. But not unwelcome. It felt like we were saying goodbye to family. This is not a comment on the service at the restaurant – which was fabulous – but on something entirely different.

The young man that served us, Sam was his name, was warm and helpful but we liked him entirely too much after he took our drink order. We mused over our wine and beer where we knew him from. Surely we couldn’t know a random HSC student from Glebe? Could he be a family friend? No. A little brother of a Uni acquaintance? Nope, we both felt like we knew him.

Then it hit me. Big blue eyes. A mop of unruly sandy brown curls. A slight but muscular physique. Pouty lips. Innate confidence. Sunny personality.

“He is Cooper” I say to Rubens.

“What?”

“He is what Coop could look like in 16 years.”

“Holy shit! I reckon you are right”

“Good” I say relieved that the affection I feel for this minor is somewhat explicable and not just creepy.

The fallacy of ‘friend’ and ‘enemy’

The words ‘friend’ and ‘enemy’ are very emotive. They rouse such strong emotional responses from us. We think there is a method in our deciding in which category people ‘fit’ into, we think we are clear on what the words mean to us. Nope, sorry, I bet you’re wrong. Allow me to demonstrate.

Call to mind an ‘enemy’. What makes you categorise them that way? Did they hurt you, ignore you, hurt your loved one, do something unscrupulous?

Call to mind a ‘friend’. Think of why you call them ‘friend’. Have they supported you, been kind to you, shared your life with you, advised you well, shown you compassion?

Call to mind someone who fits neither of these categories, someone you are ‘indifferent’ to. Why are you indifferent to them? Have they faded from your life, do they live far away, have you lost touch with them?

Now, just to screw with your mind;

Call to mind your ‘enemy’. Can you recall a time that they were supportive, kind, compassionate or in any other way a ‘friend’ to you?

Call to mind your ‘friend’. Can you recall a time that they hurt or ignored you or a time when they were unscrupulous or in any other way acted as your ‘enemy’?

Call to mind the person to whom you are now indifferent. Can you recall a time when they were either a ‘friend’ or ‘enemy’ to you?

Each of us fall into the category of ‘friend’, ‘enemy’ & ‘indifferent’. Each of us are selfish. Everybody does the best they can with what they have. Every body unintentionally, and intentionally, hurts others. Each of us are capable of life-changing kindness and compassion. Each of us chooses our ‘friends’ and ‘enemies in the same arbitrary nature with which we chose teams in the school yard.

Perhaps if all focused less on the boxes we have put people in we would live in a more compassionate, understanding, kind world. What do you think?

How to know what is an illusion

So much of what you ‘lurve’ every day is smoke. It is fantastical and transitory and ungrounded and illusionary. The certainty you love; imaginary. The coffee you would be useless without; replaceable. The colleagues you laugh with daily; largely unimportant. The email signature that denotes your place in the world of business; temporary. Your Facebook friends; frauds and your Twitter followers; strangers.

You aren’t alone in this predicament. In fact this predicament is overloaded with people so ‘connected’ to our networks that we broadcast what we eat for lunch, and yet so disconnected that we  would be lucky to have 10 people to really rely on when the shit hits the fan.

We are so dedicated to the worship of technology and networking that we have forgotten that when it comes down to the wire they are as useful as a maxed out credit card. What is real are connections of the heart. Our families, our passions, our friends, our legacies.

We are all different, yes, but we are all human. As humans we need connection, support, love, touch, nourishment. Below is my litmus test. Only what passes the test deserve my ‘lurve’, attention and dedication all else is to be taken lightly.

The friendship is illusionary if:

• you don’t call to say ‘Happy Birthday’, but send them a Facebook message only instead
• you have never held their hand  in celebration or commiseration
• you don’t share with them when your grandmother gets Alzheimer’s or you’re facing depression
• you wouldn’t fly across the country to visit them at a moment’s notice if they needed you
• you couldn’t ask them to dislodge a stuck diaphragm or drive you to a feared Doctor appointment
• you wouldn’t invite them to your wedding

An illusion is:

• something that isn’t true all the time
• something fickle or transitory
• something wouldn’t take with you to the proverbial desert island
• something based in what others think of you and not in who you are
• something that would be dwarfed by terrible news

How do you tell the difference? What is your litmus test?

Gender

I said in my very first post that ‘I am not saying all women are the same, but that more often than not we are alike.’ I honestly believe that. There are a few universal female experiences that can bond strange women together in an instant. I have listed a few of them below. *Male readers may wish to think of something decidedly ‘blokey’ for the next few lines. I’ll let you know when its safe to read again.*

• An early period and the embarrassment of asking a friend (or stranger) for some feminine hygiene products.
• All mothers are bonded through the experience of pregnancy and labour. Trust me it not something you ever forget.
• Wardrobe malfunctions. Namely breasts popping out where they shouldn’t be seen. We have all been there.
• Inappropriate tears. Most women have cried despite silently threatening their body with grievous harm should it betray her.
• Complete and utter confusion with the males of the species. I am yet to meet a woman who hasn’t been left scratching her head at how he could have missed the toilet bowl and not seen it.
• Speaking of toilets every woman has been stuck in a line 10 miles long for the ladies room while there isn’t anybody in the men’s toilets because they are busy pissing on a tree at a music festival. That line is like an express bonding session and if you are brave enough to march into the men’s room the women who you meet there are like your soul sisters for life.

*Male readers can tune in now. No more talk about periods, breasts or toilets. I promise*

On a less superficial level than periods and bathroom queues women have a lot in common. We are all daughters, most of us are loving partners, some are mothers, many are sisters and aunties too. We all experience heartbreak, we birth the new (for some the new generation for other new companies and new ideas) & we work damn hard (in fact it is estimated that women are responsible for 70% of the hours worked globally – much of that unpaid). We think differently to men, we lead differently to men, we experience the world differently and we have a different, not better or worse, contributions to make to the world than men.

So why is so so frowned upon to bond with other women? Why is it such a social crime to refer to ones gender? I seems totally insane to me for it to be ok for us to talk about our womanhood in context of lip gloss and tampons (Sorry guys. I promised didn’t I?) but not in context of the number of women who are abused by their spouses, of our rights around how and where we birth our children and the consistent statistics that women earn less than men in the industrialised workplace to the tune of around 80c in the dollar.

I am tired of hiding from the term ‘Feminist’. I am tired of being told the glass ceiling no longer exists. I am tired of study after study identifying new prejudices against women in the workforce. It is time to discuss gender again, not so we can use it as a weapon to beat men up with or beat women down with, but to understand and encourage the complementary contribution of both genders.

Are you woman enough to put your gender on the agenda? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Innocence

They say that our times have lost their innocence. Granted, we are no longer living in a society that could be described as naive, unworldly or inoffensive but all innocence is not lost. I think it is time for innocence to make a comeback. Sophistication and her sisters jaded and skeptical have had their day in the sun and I for one am ready for something, well nicer.

Though the world has long lost its innocence I don’t believe that innocence is extinct. Our relationships can be innocent. Innocence can also be described as; freedom of cunning and deceit, simplicity and harmlessness. I don’t know about you but those adjectives also describe the way I’d like to interact with my friends and family.

It is so damned easy these days to shoot first and ask questions later. It is standard practice to assume everybody is out to get you. We jump to conclusions every day and more often than not those conclusions are of the unfavourable variety. We defend ourselves all the time in anticipation of an attack and as a result keep people at a distance. Relationship status on Facebook even offers the option ‘its complicated’. I am in no way suggesting that its wise to walk down a dark alley at night or to assume multinational companies are playing fairly, just that we could be nicer to the girl at the checkout, the guy on the bus, the crazy neighbour and our colleagues.

If you too would like more innocence in your life try these on for size:

• Everybody is doing the very best they can with what they have
• Nobody makes a decision, that at the time, they think is a bad one
• Most people respond well to honesty and honest feedback
• Most people blossom when given the benefit of the doubt
• Most people don’t realise they are being offensive
• Most times if you bring a transgression to someones attention you will get a full apology

So next time the service isn’t great, your friends cancels at the last minute or a colleague is frosty presume innocence. The alternative jaded negative view hurts no-one more than you.

A balanced heart

Balance in relationships is ideal. Everybody wants to be in a mature, loving, supportive relationship where both partners benefit equally. The dream goes like this; both people get their needs met, they get unconditional love, boundless support, brunches on Sundays, in-jokes, fond memories, a reliable plus one for obligatory events, someone to do the housework they hate, a cuddle on the couch and a warm body in bed.

Perfect, right? Except…

Except love isn’t ‘unuconditional’ if it is only present when things are balanced. Except boundless support means support in the face of imbalance. Except a couple’s needs aren’t always the same or equal.

What happens to the relationship when one person’s needs are bigger, stronger or more urgent? What happens when one partner cannot be as supportive due to illness, addiction or being in the military? What happens when ailing parents or children throw the axis off?

A mature, loving, supportive relationship means that sacrifices are made, concessions are given & needs are prioritised. No two people (not even twins) grow in perfect synchronicity. So, if both partners are benefiting equally then they are having their wings clipped.

The most loving, relationship affirming thing I have ever done was to put my personal ambitions on the back-burner to dedicate myself to supporting my partner’s goals, loves, dreams and schedule. It is also the most humbling, ego-deflating, trusting, counter-intuitive decisions I have ever made.

Lesson: Love is not tit for tat, clean, orderly or balanced. Learn to find the harmony in the imbalance.

Mother crafting

Motherhood is an interesting word for an indescribable experience. I prefer the term mother crafting for its accuracy. Mother crafting suggests that it is a skill to be developed and not simply a gift bestowed when a child is born. Mother crafting suggests a uniqueness; that each relationship is one off and hand made with love. Mother crafting suggests a beauty in the imperfection.

Mother crafting to me is about a swelling of the heart, the heart opens and swells and encompasses so much more. The pain and tears of your child become excruciating, to witness their smile becomes euphoric, to watch them contentedly sleeping or reaching for rattles becomes a deep meditation. The emotions are so strong that they bring with them tears; tears of joy, sorrow, pain, helplessness, bliss, love, laughter.

Mother crafting is not a skill belonging only to a child’s birth mother. I have known adopted mothers and childless women perfect this skill so beautifully that they elevate it to the level of art. I know young women who have birthed their lives and tended to their dreams the same way I tend to my son. This perhaps is a no less beautiful but more difficult calling, because realised dreams can’t say ‘Thanks mum I love you’.

Letting Go

I have spent the past week with my family, and it has got me thinking about letting go. Letting go can be hard. Letting go can be easy. Letting go can become a habit – if you’re game. If you’re not, letting go can be utterly terrifying.

My grandmother is getting older; in fact she just celebrated her 86^th birthday. I baked, of course. She is fast approaching, or recently passed, (depending on who you speak to) the point of safely living alone at home. On some level I think she knows it. She is afraid of losing her independence and what that might mean. Her fear comes across as nastiness.

I can understand her fear and her denial. What becomes of us when we cease to be what we value? What are we when our intelligence is failing and outdated; our peers deceased; our looks long faded; our family self sufficient and our contribution to the world are knitted blankets donated to charity?

How do we come to terms with letting go of our prime, our status, our jobs, our friends and our independence? What can stand the test of time and remain ours regardless of our phase in life? The only thing that I come up with is love.

Love. Love of ourselves. Love for those around us. Love for something greater perhaps. Love of the taste of a sweet strawberry. Love of the feeling of the sun on our skin. Love of the sight of a rose in full bloom. Love of the smell of fresh bread baking.

I see too much of my grandmother in me. I don’t want to have to fight so hard. To cling so tightly to my independence. To fear what it means to lose it. The alternative, for what I can see, is to focus on love and to let go of other temporary titles. I wonder what will be my final hurdle? What will I perhaps be clinging to in my old age? Will it be my partner, work, my children, responsibility, intelligence or independence? If I am lucky perhaps I will enjoy the simple pleasures of my twilight years instead of mourning the loss of my former glories. IF along the way I develop a saintly disposition and grace.

What will you be clinging to in 60 years?

Cast your net wide

Watching a slideshow of Afghanistan explained by a soldier just returned from active duty puts my personal issues in perspective. So did having a hot chocolate at the Sheraton on the Park (with the Connect2Mums crew).

We all have issues. If you breathe and you live, you are bound to have issues. Even his Holiness the Dali Lama has drama to contend with. How we experience drama is subjective.

I am not saying that your issues are insignificant because ‘there is always somebody out there worse off than you’. What I am saying is that the narrower your focus the larger problems will appear.

High school is a great example of this. Our years at high school are characterised by us continually making mountains out of mole hills. A single off-hand comment could quickly turn into friendship groups divided and months of arguments and drama. Our immaturity was partially responsible but so was that fact that the school yard, and its occupants, were our whole world.

A work-a-holic will always experience work related dramas as devastating and dramatic because work swallows most of their attention and focus. A new mother’s day hangs entirely on whether her baby sleeps and eats well. She knows that the world is at war and people are dying of poverty and disease, but the tiny bundle in her arms is her whole world. New lovers can be happy together even if their lives are crumbling around them because the relationship alone is their focus; but when the relationship crumbles they are lost.

My awareness was broadened recently when an old friend stayed with us. He took my focus from local to global reminding me of, and personalizing, the war in Afghanistan. Realising that carrying a weapon just to take your morning jog and laying fellow soldiers to rest is a personal reality for a gentle man my son calls ‘Uncle’ reminded me that it is my personal bias that dictates the size of my problems. How easily we become blinkered by the privilege that is inherent our (read my) life.

You don’t need to know a soldier to put your troubles into perspective. All you need to do is to exercise your inherent compassion. How? Connect with other people on a real level. Get to know the difficulties another is facing – not to compare or even to ‘fix’ them but to empathise with them and witness the journey of another. Don’t restrict yourself only to connecting with people whose journey mirrors your own. Connect with older & younger people in your city and across the globe. This is the true value of online communities and how they enhance our lives.

Cast your net wide. Value diversity. Difference is like sunlight that shines on the facets of your life and makes them shine.

* This post first appeared on http://connect2mums.ning.com

Image credit Larryzou@