Books, winter themes and rodents

‘Fragmentation and breaking up is indeed the essence of the twentieth century’ Terry Tempest Williams

Over the month of December I have tended, especially while my son was young, to engage in reading winter and Christmas stories and creating handmade cards, wrapping paper, decorations, calendars, gifts. I also tried to integrate a flavor of this Christmassy activity in December’s lessons and school activity. In some sense the spirit of the festive season was spread out over the month and it gave all of us the opportunity to get creative, learn English carols and songs, and also, read favourite books from our shelf of Christmas and winter themes children’s books. As winter is finally setting in this year I have on some evenings found myself longing to get cozy with a children’s book and a hot beverage. So, last night I took Jill Barklem’s book: The Four Seasons of Brambley Hedge down from the shelf. In the Winter Story an Ice Hall is being constructed and a midwinter Snow Ball is being organised following the tradition of the forefathers of the field mice:

When the snows are lying deep   / When the field has gone to sleep / When the blackthorn turns to white / And frosty stars bejewel the night / When summer streams are turned to ice / A Snow Ball warms the heart of mice.  Read more

Midwinter and Christmassy themes (part one)

‘Once upon a time, when women were birds, there was the simple understanding that to sing at dawn and to sing at dusk was to heal the world through joy. The birds still remember what we have forgotten, that the world is meant to be celebrated’ (Terry Tempest Williams)

‘The Christ birth story is our story. The marginalised, the dispossessed, the homeless and the refugees, are at the heart of this tale’ (From Last Christmas, curated & introduced by Greg Wise & Emma Thompson)

As the festive season is approaching I have started reading Christmas related things and have engaged with an exercise to do with past midwinter traumas and losses and distracting mishaps so as to free the present from the burden of past events and to increase awareness of cyclical patterns and repetitive stories that have lived underground for too long.  In her book When Women Were Birds, Terry Tempest Williams writes ‘we are quiet because there is a history of abuse and harm committed toward those who tell the truth. Marriages are shattered. Families are broken. Judgments are rendered. The woman stands alone. Our stories live underground.’ Oftentimes articulating and naming experiences and the stories and lies that bring us to the truths moves us towards deeper acceptance and increased presence. In the previous post I referred to our agentic capacity at any given moment. One factor that can contribute positively to agency is presence, and even if desirable options may not be visible immediately, deeper presence connects us to a more resilient aspect of ourself. Each new realization and ability to stay with increases our capacity for clarity and presence.   Read more……….. Notes

The dazzling colours of the cloth

Today’s post includes an excerpt of something I am writing. It is relevant to recent posts and yesterday’s excerpt on patriarchy. It slightly touches upon agency and circumstances, the underlying religious or political ideologies, and the socio-economic systems these support or reflect. Patriarchy is a structure that was never meant to support connectedness, egalitarian relationships or equal opportunities. It permeates many religious, political, health, educational, employment, relational and familial contexts.

(Excerpt from a longer thread)

‘…… People are made redundant because of the way economies are set up and they receive poor health care because of the nature of the existing care system policies. Women are paid less or fired first because of inequity at the work place. Since, it is not possible to live in a vacuum, the laws of nature and societal realities impact all aspects of our life to a varying degree. Thus, the agency we exert is dependent on external and internal factors…….  Exteriority and interiority are always locked in a dance……..  In my early twenties I worked at the conveyor belt of a pharmaceutical factory putting pills in containers. After a while I was asked to move to a different department, which was separated from the big ground floor area by glass because it was toxic. A group of women worked around a long table, some of them wearing medical masks. When I initially got hired I had been asked if I wanted to work in that department because the pay was higher. I had turned down the offer bearing in mind my early asthma history. One Friday afternoon before leaving I was summoned by the supervisor, who told me I would be working in the glassed section starting on Monday. Seeing my disappointment he gave me a pat on the shoulder and said I should be glad I would be earning more money. I looked at the women through the glass panels. They seemed to be doing fine. On my first day I observed that despite the focus that counting pills into containers required, working around a table supported a constant flow of story telling…. Working at a conveyor belt was different. One was immersed in fast counting and packing. Hand movements became automated, but the counting didn’t leave room for reverie and mind wandering. There wasn’t much interaction with others. I had thought it might be okay after all. But it did not take long for breathing and allergy type symptoms to appear. I found that my scope of agency within that context was limited to two choices. I could quit or keep working and get sick.……..

This last dozen of years I have constantly faced the dilemma of questioning and breaking the silence or remaining silent. In her book, Refuge, Terry Tempest Williams writes: ‘I must question everything, even if it means losing my faith, even if it means becoming a member of a border tribe among my own people. Tolerating blind obedience in the name of patriotism or religion ultimately takes our lives.’ For me breaking the silence has brought on a lot of additional suffering, but also, the knowing that silence doesn’t always protect. Neither does it change beliefs or stop dynamics at play. One way to deepen the understanding and accelerate the waking up to the working of things is to pick up the thread of each event, injustice, loss or decision, and follow it all the way back to its origins. One is bound to observe repetition of patterns and underlying dynamics below the surface of the frozen lake. Each new realisation increases our capacity for presence. As we discern more of the threads we catch a glimpse of the breadth and the dazzling colours of the cloth.’