Ask the Priestess

We often talk about the different seasons, identifying their characteristics, separating them from the rest of times in the year. We even make up seasons, like the holiday season around Xmas and New Year’s, which stand well defined from any other. But, why do we need to do so? The year is a cycle, a turn of the planet around a star. Both the planet and the star are in constant change, constant movement, so they don’t really care all that much about a couple of bells or a number on a calendar. So, too, is the satellite that rules flows and tides, but which never shows its back. The metamorphoses evident in Nature (alterations in temperature, in foliage, in the number and species of animals around, to name but a few) happen gradually. Indeed, it seems that all that green appears all of a sudden, but the seeds, roots and shoots have been hard at work for months before we get a glimpse of them; the newborns have sometimes taken years to fully gestate; and even as one half of the plane...

I was sitting here, getting frustrated at an interface that won't allow me to do what I want to do, and I looked at my poor, spotted, week-old bananas. They were fading fast. Oh, dear! I looked back at my screen, back at the bananas, back, back... So I did the only logical thing! I sent off an email message to the people in charge of the interface, switched off the computer, then turned to the worktop: out came the eggs, the flour, the sugar, the butter..., and the bananas. I rolled up my sleeves, tied on my apron, and set to making banana bread. What else? I like making things with my hands. I don't use electric mixers (though I love them), so I can really feel the weight of the dough at my wrist, the rasp of the spoon handle in my palm. There is an intimacy to it, knowing exactly what is going into the bowl; what is coming out of the baking tin; what is on the plate of those I love, whom I will serve the food. There is an intimacy to the taste as well, unique each time: m...

I realise that, in the later entries, I have been dealing mostly with things that worry me. I've also realised these 'darker' entries are a by-product of an intent not to be too peppy all the time, not in public, least of all in writing. I suppose, to some extent, I still suffer from 'literary (artistic) prejudice'. That's when someone is immediately considered a 'better' author just because s/he deals with very serious matters (drugs, crime, depression, and similar). This person is then deemed to have a 'deeper understanding of society' by the mere fact that s/he chooses to dwell on the less auspicious sides or events. As a consequence, there are cases like that of Jane Austen, who was slighted for presenting the seemingly frivolous and partial existence of genteel society. Or the way some films are sneered at for being just 'feel good romps', automatically making them unable to carry a worthy message on life.  This 'artistic pre...

There really are few things that truly upset me, but even those all have a common denominator: selfishness. I honestly, wholeheartedly feel repulsed by anything related to selfishness. I realise there is a certain amount of self-awareness and self-love that every being requires for self-preservation. What really gets me is the overwhelming near-sighted attitude prevalent in our world. It's everywhere, and it's killing us all. Talk about responsibility: 'I gain' is parent to 'we lose'. It is this relationship that explains the oft-mentioned, but not less shocking, fact that about 1% of people 'own' more assets than the lower 80% of the population together. The amazing thing is that, in our selfish-led existence, we aim to perpetuate this divide, so long the 'I gain' manages (or has the illusion of possibility) to enter that 1%. Now, don't get me wrong, I think the kind of life enjoyed by that small group is great! I just can't find i...

There is this, to my mind at least, beautiful expression in English: 'stay true'. It means to be faithful to one's belief, to one's group of people, to oneself. Although still connected to the concept of truthfulness, it is more an issue of self-honesty than of not telling lies to others. The opposite of 'staying true' is not 'fibbing', 'lying' or 'deceiving'. Rather, it is 'losing yourself.' Horribly revealing is the fact that, in most cases, people have a hard time staying true to themselves. It is not often a situation that arises out of conscious deviousness (which, contrarily, would actually be staying true to the individual's dishonest character), it is more a matter of forgetfulness. We forget who we truly are. How does such a thing happen? How can we forget who we are, forget ourselves? I guess it is an offshoot of the mixture between curiosity and desire: once we discover something we want, we become so embroi...

In recent days I have been going through quite a few emotions, whose effect on my body I have been observing with interest. It is nothing new, being aware of how our feelings create our physical make-up; it is the obviousness of it that has taken my breath away, as it were (pun thoroughly intended). Honestly, things like Joy bringing on tears, butterflies in our stomachs at the first kiss, or sweaty palms from nerves, are not novelties. But these are all seemingly transitory states, often disregarded for their very fleetingness. Few of us realise that there is a plethora of other feelings that affect us, from both the 'good' and the 'bad' realm. That is damning unawareness. However, the truly harmful ignorance lies in the fact that we disregard their cumulative power, downplaying it where we should respect it. If I were to recap my most extreme/clearly observable reactions from the fortnight, the bottom would go to illness from the anxiety involved in a family visit...

I have recently had the chance to revisit a little tip on living life fully, meaningfully, Joyfully: choose reality. I know it might seem a bit of an odd concept, but it is a powerful one. Too often, we spend time, we waste precious energy in worrying about the future, in rehashing the past. The truth is, neither past nor future are reality; only the present has any value as a real concept of time. So, focus!! Focus on reality, focus on the now. Carpe Diem is not only about reciting poetry, of squeezing the juice of youth till the last drop (still, please do, squeeze also all the flavour of childhood, of adulthood, of golden-year-hood). Carpe Diem means 'seize the day', seize to-day!! Seize the moment, the minute, the second. Breathe it in, twirl it around in your mouth until it dissolves, until you swallow it, until it is gone. Take an example (direct from my recent experience): you are in a car, on your way to a day at the beach, and you hit slow traffic. For some reason ...

Years ago, I was visiting with my sister. I was living far from her, since I was attending university at the time. We were chatting, and I have no recollection what I said but she sort of froze, looked at me and said, 'You've made a joke!' I looked at her pleasantly shocked face and replied, 'I often do.' Sometimes, we don't fully understand other people, even those closest to us. It had taken over twenty years for my jokes to translate beyond myself, for my sister to "get it". I write this because I want to remind us all that lack of communication is never one-sided. When there is a loss of meaning, it is more than a result of bad hearing, a limited vocabulary or an uncertain context. Words are often considered an unreliable medium, due to their plasticity. Why then do we become so frustrated when the idea does not get across? We forget the world is more outside our heads than within them. That our words, once they leave us, do no more reflect wha...

Last month I saw a seal. A real one, a wild one, not in a zoo, not doing tricks for fish and the enjoyment of tourists. I was crossing a bridge, and I looked down into the water of the docks. I like seeing the birds swimming around among all the buildings, despite the moored barges and the darkness of the quiet water that seeps in from the river. There are seagulls, ducks, a sort of black birds with greenish-yellowish legs and even swans. So when I first saw the black shape floating, I thought it was a dark bird preening (as there was no head). But nope, a second later I realised there were these shiny orbs looking straight at me, nostrils opening and closing and that what was bobbing slightly in the dark water was the slicked-back head of a seal! I was shocked, excited, and worried all at once. Shocked because there I was, in a dock in urban London looking at a wild seal in the water. Excited, because there I was, looking at this beautiful surprise and it was looking back at me. And...

We are social creatures: we belong to a family, a clan, a tribe, a town, a city, a nation, a race, a species. It is this belonging that provides us with identity, through similarity and difference. We become protective for and affectionate to those like us, while detached from and aggressive towards those unlike us. It seems a given, but I wonder. I was at a park the other day. I was early evening, sunny, with a gentle breeze blowing. The park is on the riverbank. Every so often, a tourist boat would go by, crowded, expectant. Whenever one such boat went by, a group of children (no more than 5 or 6 years old) would rush to the railings to call out, to wave, hoping for a response in kind. When the people on the ships returned the wave and the call, the kids were frantic in their joy, running along the path, waving and laughing. Sadly, this only happened in a couple of occasions. Mostly, the children's efforts were ignored, or not "indulged in". Why? I remember doing so...

After a long time without the chance to write here, I am back.  Like the rain... I hope both are equally welcome. Indeed, too much of a good thing can become problematic. These last few months we have been having "gorgeous weather", i.e. sunshine, high temperatures, gentle breezes. So the crops died, the chicks hatched ahead of time, and everyone supposedly loved it. Supposedly, because interestingly enough it is today, when the wind and the rain have made a very felt appearance, that I have seen the most smiles from strangers, huddled by the doors to buildings for a smoke, hurrying under their flimsy umbrellas, hailing cabs while avoiding the splashes of passing traffic. People, even in the city, react to the changes in Nature, to her Needs, to her Pulse. We hide in glass bubbles and do our best to control the environment (mostly by destroying it, but that'll be in another entry) - yet our cells soak up the moisture and rejoice. The air is fresh, so is our spirit. Wh...

They say "time is money", "time is a variable", "time is just an element to measure other things, like speed"... So, what IS time? Let's see... I have to go by the area of Canary Wharf daily (for those who don't know, it is the London UK equivalent to Wall Street), and every time I do so, I feel more and more confused. I feel like Momo watching the Gray Men in Michael Ende's fable. If you happen to be by during "working" time, the streets are semi-deserted, while the underground shopping centre glitters with marbley floors, bank offices and shops. Then, at lunch time, a rush of hurried minions floods the area, all in dark suits, all on their mobiles, not a smile in sight, but many watches checked. They are hungry and impatient - they only have 15 or 30 minutes to get lunch, and "time is money"! So they queue at the counters of the fast-food places (half the mall) or tap their toes while waiting to purchase a ready-made mea...

One day it rains, one day it shines. So we learn to look for the beauty in these changes. For example, on the way from the gym there is a gorgeous tree that has been offering its furry, green encased yellow blossoms since the days of snow. Its "owners" (I refuse to believe anyone can actually own anything living) chopped off some of its branches, added a box to encourage small wildlife to nest amongst its boughs. Every day I go by, it is a bit greener, a tad furrier. I kiss one of the almond-like promises of life, it seems to sigh and giggle. Then, a few days ago, I noticed that many other trees and bushes are beginning to coat their clipped ends with little spots of green feathers, of pink skin, of reddish scales. They all seem to sigh and giggle, too, as I go by without a scarf, or fighting a reluctant umbrella, always beckoning me to stop for a quick caress. They know they make my smile wider, that I carry that smile on to be spread across the city. If you want to sque...

Winter was a time feared, a time of darkness, a time of little sunlight and much cold. What fools we were!! What fools we are, when we still complain about it, knowing it is not right! We are nearer the end than the beginning of winter, quickly forgetting that back when it started, the days ended a full hour earlier. We also forget that the "dead of winter" was, in fact, last year, since the season started in December, and that it was already following the cold and snow that brought us to a halt. What do we have now? We have cool days, and rain and longer hours of sunlight. We have the promise of Life, spring, summer, ahead of us. We thought that autumn was ominous, that winter would be dark and dank, yet here we are: the monster that we had feared passed before we even heard it come! Instead of a gnarling beast with cavernous jaws we find a meowing kitten at our doorstep, shivering, craving Love. Winter as a death-bringer is an illusion: most people can tell you when i...

I wrote this bit while flying back after saying good-bye to my mother. She died the following morning. This goes for her. And for all who go through the pain of loss. Anja Blaauw Westland: 2nd Sept 1945 - 7th Feb 2011 Mother, Teacher, Giver: Woman. Thank You! Transitions We all have to go through transitions. Life changes, and we have to adapt to the new situation, the new people around us. We may complain more or less, but we comply with the requirements, in the end. We get used to locations and company alike. It is, it turns out, not that difficult to add experiences, names and faces to our habits. The really tough call is when we are required to give up that, but mostly whom, we consider 'ours.' Then, it hurts! A friend says that "losing someone you love is not a wound, it's a mutilation:" we are attached, just like the arm is attached to the shoulder. I have long been 'independent,' a grown-up nomad, yet here I am, bleeding soul and dried-out ey...

Dear Universe, I thought it would be a good idea to send you a little 'Thank You' note, as it is considered good manners when receiving some present or other. But, when I actually sat down to it, I realised that 'a little note' would not do. So, here I am writing a long letter which, I suspect, will only manage to cover the most superficial/obvious Gifts you have bestowed. Actually, let me begin with those: Thank You, Universe, for my family, partner and friends. They are a surprising group, a collection of amazing individuals whom I love and who, wonderfully, love me back! I learn from them, sometimes despite them and myself both, how to become a (hopefully) better person. I have rarely had to make a great effort to acquire any of these Gift-people, for which my Mam often chides me (she claims I don't appreciate them, but I do, I really do!), while they are a priceless source of Joy. I would like to list them, along with the qualities that make them so worthy;...

The long silence over, I am back at my keyboard. I am back to try and keep up a "dialogue" with whoever is reading this out there. I must confess, though, that I have been thinking long and hard about the loneliness of writing. And I have reached no conclusive answer. I do have an inkling, however. I have always loved both reading and writing. I have loved the intimacy, the quiet it brings, the doors it opens - French windows allowing access to a fantastic landscape of improbable possibilities. It is a haven, a bolthole, a hideaway from the world around, from the pressures of daily life, from triggers of frustration. What, then, has made it different and changed my comfy sofa by a warming fire into a jagged rock on the side of a mountain? I believe it is related to my decision to engage in writing on a "serious" basis. This blog, which I started with the intention of updating twice a week, at least, means my optional escape is now a demanding stage. I suppose I ...