Showing posts with label women. Show all posts
Showing posts with label women. Show all posts
Monday, January 20, 2020
Woman Centred Birth
https://www.feministcurrent.com/2020/01/20/using-gender-neutral-language-regarding-women-and-childbirth-is-about-more-than-semantics/
Tuesday, April 23, 2019
Gratified Desire
From my living room, from the time I was 5 until I left home at 16, I could see the outline of the Rocky Mountains puncturing the sky behind the provincial city called Calgary.
In my Grade 10 classroom, the enterprising teacher had printed a few lines of a poem by Wordsworth and stuck it up all around the room, above our heads:
"The world is too much with us; late and soon,
In my Grade 10 classroom, the enterprising teacher had printed a few lines of a poem by Wordsworth and stuck it up all around the room, above our heads:
"The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;—
Little we see in Nature that is ours"
The rest of the poem describes the Romantic's dilemma: that we have removed ourselves from nature, and that removal has cost us dearly. Wordsworth was writing 200 years ago; how much more we are getting and spending now!
The young romantic in me escaped the banal ugliness of a soon-to-boom oil town and ran to the mountains. I spent days in the Rockies, observing the slowness of so-called "Mother" Nature as the seasons ground from one to the next. I met animals, marvelled at wildflowers, grieved for my young friend who died from hypothermia during an ill-timed May camping trip.
City life intervened, as it does, and I spent years in cities doing city-like things like work, study and city play. But in 1985 I moved to rural Italy and there I learned about living in and with nature.
Farming is hard work, especially when you don't know what you're doing. We had a big stone farmhouse, 7 acres of land, a wheat field, a vineyard, a huge vegetable garden, a muddy pond, many poultry, a dog, a cat, and four small boys. There was a spring down a muddy green path where I would go every day and collect my 18 litre jerry-can of water for the day. There was a big grass snake who lived under the wall. There were wild boar who trampled the vineyard until we put a radio down there and played opera at night. There were badgers, porcupines, foxes, weasels, nightjars, cuckoos, and peasants who surrounded us and wanted to teach us their trade.
Nature isn't unforgiving, or gentle, or kind, or threatened, or dominated, or forgiving, or logical, or chaotic, or female. Nature is beautiful. Nature couldn't give a rat's ass about you. Nature doesn't care. Nature does what it does. It is unknowable, and mighty, and extraordinary. Nature wastes: things die all the time, unnecessarily. Nature attacks: weird bacteria, viruses, and prions love to inhabit their hosts. Nature kills.
But, of course, we are part of nature, and nature has taught us over the years that it is a good idea to respect the immutable laws that nature dictates. If you're going to say 'aw this is airy-fairy leftie bullshit', might I remind you that even the most powerful human has a maximum 10 degree centigrade window in which to survive. And that most powerful human, even if he did survive birth, fever, hypothermia, infections, accidents and so on... will still be completely absorbed by nature in the end.
That teacher also introduced us to Shelley's Ozymandias: "Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair!" The will to power, domination, kingship, command... it's all horrible if you're one of the dominated, or thrilling if you're the king, I guess, but you'll die like the rest of us and be buried in the sand. As will your great achievements. So, then, what's a thinking teenager to do? Nihilism was an option, but I had a handicap there, and I shared that with William Blake.
In The Tyger, Blake suggests that something so beautiful, ferocious, complicated and confusing had to be created by a higher power. Well, even though I was brought up by a communist artist and a scientist, neither of whom shared my deep-founded belief in The Divine, I was pretty sure Blake was right. How else could you explain that I had miraculously survived all of the shenanigans that I took part in as a young teenager in the 1970's? How to explain why that big mama moose and her baby walked beside me for a few kilometres and didn't attack me? How did I stare down that pack of dogs in the middle of a snowy night on a field in Calgary? Why wasn't I one of the young people who went missing or died during those ridiculous years? Not because of nature, or luck. Not due to atoms, molecules, or any number of metaphors. But because my path wasn't that one. The tapestry that was made before any of us was born included me living at least for 62 years.
I was making our bed a few weeks ago and was brought to tears because I felt the enormity of the failure of our task. I thought to myself that I might as well just go shopping.
My life has been a life lived in the physical world. I farmed, I carried water, cement, and wood. I birthed babies and breastfed them, and held them, and fed them. When it was time for me to work, I worked as a farm labourer, picking peppers and tobacco, and as a domestic, cleaning peoples' houses and washing dishes in a cafe. Then I learned to attend births, and I rubbed feet and backs, held women as they birthed, cleaned messy pads and bedding and clothing, ... and then caught babies as they slipped from their mothers' bodies.
When that work stopped, I started to prepare and serve food. It's physical. Life is physical.... except. Except that so many people don't know so much about the physical world. There are fridges for sale for thousands of dollars, and people no longer cook and eat at home. People can't fix something, they buy a new one. Do you mend holes in your clothes? Can you light a fire? Can you distinguish dandelion flowers from coltsfoot? How does a duck look when it flies? What is the difference between Water Hemlock and Queen Anne's Lace? How do you mix cement? What berries can you eat? What do you do with a tree once it is felled?
Nevertheless. Nevertheless. The final poem that I only just figured out is this one:
The rest of the poem describes the Romantic's dilemma: that we have removed ourselves from nature, and that removal has cost us dearly. Wordsworth was writing 200 years ago; how much more we are getting and spending now!
The young romantic in me escaped the banal ugliness of a soon-to-boom oil town and ran to the mountains. I spent days in the Rockies, observing the slowness of so-called "Mother" Nature as the seasons ground from one to the next. I met animals, marvelled at wildflowers, grieved for my young friend who died from hypothermia during an ill-timed May camping trip.
City life intervened, as it does, and I spent years in cities doing city-like things like work, study and city play. But in 1985 I moved to rural Italy and there I learned about living in and with nature.
Farming is hard work, especially when you don't know what you're doing. We had a big stone farmhouse, 7 acres of land, a wheat field, a vineyard, a huge vegetable garden, a muddy pond, many poultry, a dog, a cat, and four small boys. There was a spring down a muddy green path where I would go every day and collect my 18 litre jerry-can of water for the day. There was a big grass snake who lived under the wall. There were wild boar who trampled the vineyard until we put a radio down there and played opera at night. There were badgers, porcupines, foxes, weasels, nightjars, cuckoos, and peasants who surrounded us and wanted to teach us their trade.
Nature isn't unforgiving, or gentle, or kind, or threatened, or dominated, or forgiving, or logical, or chaotic, or female. Nature is beautiful. Nature couldn't give a rat's ass about you. Nature doesn't care. Nature does what it does. It is unknowable, and mighty, and extraordinary. Nature wastes: things die all the time, unnecessarily. Nature attacks: weird bacteria, viruses, and prions love to inhabit their hosts. Nature kills.
But, of course, we are part of nature, and nature has taught us over the years that it is a good idea to respect the immutable laws that nature dictates. If you're going to say 'aw this is airy-fairy leftie bullshit', might I remind you that even the most powerful human has a maximum 10 degree centigrade window in which to survive. And that most powerful human, even if he did survive birth, fever, hypothermia, infections, accidents and so on... will still be completely absorbed by nature in the end.
That teacher also introduced us to Shelley's Ozymandias: "Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair!" The will to power, domination, kingship, command... it's all horrible if you're one of the dominated, or thrilling if you're the king, I guess, but you'll die like the rest of us and be buried in the sand. As will your great achievements. So, then, what's a thinking teenager to do? Nihilism was an option, but I had a handicap there, and I shared that with William Blake.
In The Tyger, Blake suggests that something so beautiful, ferocious, complicated and confusing had to be created by a higher power. Well, even though I was brought up by a communist artist and a scientist, neither of whom shared my deep-founded belief in The Divine, I was pretty sure Blake was right. How else could you explain that I had miraculously survived all of the shenanigans that I took part in as a young teenager in the 1970's? How to explain why that big mama moose and her baby walked beside me for a few kilometres and didn't attack me? How did I stare down that pack of dogs in the middle of a snowy night on a field in Calgary? Why wasn't I one of the young people who went missing or died during those ridiculous years? Not because of nature, or luck. Not due to atoms, molecules, or any number of metaphors. But because my path wasn't that one. The tapestry that was made before any of us was born included me living at least for 62 years.
I was making our bed a few weeks ago and was brought to tears because I felt the enormity of the failure of our task. I thought to myself that I might as well just go shopping.
My life has been a life lived in the physical world. I farmed, I carried water, cement, and wood. I birthed babies and breastfed them, and held them, and fed them. When it was time for me to work, I worked as a farm labourer, picking peppers and tobacco, and as a domestic, cleaning peoples' houses and washing dishes in a cafe. Then I learned to attend births, and I rubbed feet and backs, held women as they birthed, cleaned messy pads and bedding and clothing, ... and then caught babies as they slipped from their mothers' bodies.
When that work stopped, I started to prepare and serve food. It's physical. Life is physical.... except. Except that so many people don't know so much about the physical world. There are fridges for sale for thousands of dollars, and people no longer cook and eat at home. People can't fix something, they buy a new one. Do you mend holes in your clothes? Can you light a fire? Can you distinguish dandelion flowers from coltsfoot? How does a duck look when it flies? What is the difference between Water Hemlock and Queen Anne's Lace? How do you mix cement? What berries can you eat? What do you do with a tree once it is felled?
Nevertheless. Nevertheless. The final poem that I only just figured out is this one:
What is it men in women do require?
The lineaments of Gratified Desire.
What is it women do in men require?
The lineaments of Gratified Desire.
When I was in high school my teacher, my classmates, and every literary critic of the time thought this was all about sex. It's not.
It is about being gratified. It's about living your life fully, as a life. As a life not dependent upon things, upon getting and spending. It's about loving someone who is happy, and having a hard time loving someone who is miserable and unfulfilled.
We have been misled. Women especially. We've been led to believe that it indeed is a life-threatening and dangerous event (not to say an expensive one) to bring a child into the world. We've been led to believe that our children need to be socialized by someone other than ourselves. That our shitty job is somehow more fulfilling than caring for our offspring (I'm not talking about that fine mother who needs to work three jobs to support her family, nor the professional who loves her work as much as her children). That in the name of equality and because we are so damn exhausted it is fine to bully one's partner into folding baby clothes at 10 pm (who folds baby clothes anyhow? But I have seen it with my own eyes). That nature is something that needs protecting, and that weirdly we need to protect ourselves from it. That our bodies cannot be trusted.
So I say to you: Take a hike. Say something controversial. Get off Facebook. Don't get the epidural. Stop folding laundry. Don't have a baby, if you don't want to. Think twice before buying a new thing. Be kind. Be sassy, or not. Be yourself.
What am I gonna do? I'll keep on making food and serving it; I'll teach women about maternity care and childbirth; I'll think my thoughts and mostly keep them to myself.
I don't have a rootedness in a physical place. My mountain hideaway is mine for a while. My bungalow in the 'burbs as well. My rootedness is a long and straggly root that winds past minds, poetry, essays, manifestos, novels, long conversations, thoughts. The place of the thinking person. A place I've yearned for my whole life, and visited once in a while. But I always know its there, and it's home.
The other day I went for a 15 mile run. It was tough. My body was ploughing through some bad emotions. But when I got to Mont Royal, our lovely mountain at the centre of our city, I went to the trails, away from people, and ran. It eased my heart. Let us reconsider our relationship with nature, with each other and with ourselves.
Thursday, November 8, 2018
Five Reasons to JUST SAY NO
Yes, it is possible to JUST SAY NO. But why would you want to?
Here are five good reasons why we, as humans who want to achieve and maintain sanity, should learn the delicate art of saying no. I'm not talking here about those times when, obviously, you're not going to say "Oh, yes, for sure, that sounds like a great idea!" Like when someone suggests you have another drink when you've had enough, or when someone in anger suggests you go jump off a cliff.
No, I'm talking about those occasions when it is in your best interest to say no. When, yes, you could say yes, if you juggle around your schedule, self-esteem, people in your life, your alone time, work, sleep, or just plain your own moral compass. Yeah, you could say yes.
But here are my favourite five reasons to JUST SAY NO:
1. If you don't want to do something. It might be fun, but you just don't want to do it. You might feel that the person who wants you to do it will be hurt, or angry, or lonely. Then your squirrel mind starts suggesting other options: really angry, or suicidal, or depressed for three months. But anyway, don't do it. Just say no. One of my friends has been wanting me to visit forever. It's just too complicated to make it work. I'm sorry but ... no. Just no.
2. If you need to spend time by yourself. It is important that we recognize how alone we are. Like, I mean existentially alone. You were born alone (unless you were one half of a Siamese twin) and you will die alone. That's just the way it is. And it is really important to make sure that you have time to spend alone. So, sometimes, you have to say no. No, I am fine just doing my long run on my own this week. I need the two, three or four hours to sort out my shit. Ya, we can run together next week.
3. If you are trying to beat an addiction. Obviously. The only way to do that is to JUST SAY NO. Frankie knew that.
4. If you need healing. You have to stop the bombardment of everything so you can have some time to sort stuff out for yourself, every once in a while. Otherwise you will become a spinning plate amongst many other spinning plates. Nope, I do not want to be part of your women's circle. No, I don't want to bare my deepest secrets to y'all. Nope, I am not doing volunteer work any more, sadly. Sorry guys, this event is cancelled.
5. If you have to avoid something because, even if you want to do it, it will hurt you. Damn, this is the hardest one!! You have an injury? You can't race your half marathon! You're a great midwife but you're not allowed to work? Hey, sorry, you can't go to births! You want to eat chocolate but it's bad for you? Sucks to be you!
And when should you JUST SAY YES?
- When you want to.
- Anything to do with love.
- When your heart tells you to.
- If the choice is something a little scary but extremely rewarding.
- If you're already doing something, like running a marathon, and every part of you is trying to say no, but you need to JUST SAY YES so that you can complete it.
Monday, February 26, 2018
Come Away This Summer!
Dear Friends,
I’ve been feeling the winter blues a little lately. I wonder if you have too. My life decisions recently have been huge but difficult. I’ve chosen to walk away from doing what I love, and I’m walking to different things (or running, actually. Literally).
My school is going through some changes - I am no longer offering group classes, except on demand, and I am moving towards individual mentorship, self-directed work, either in person or online! Super interesting and exciting. And I'm finding the time to build a new project that will unfold in a few years. Also exciting. And the present takes care of itself, with a large family, a cafe, and a marathon to run ...
It's so hard for us to take time off, to remove ourselves from our duties – even if those duties are ones we feel with the very deepest parts of ourselves that we MUST do. The tasks that we actually do have to do, time after time. Listening to an adult child. Comforting a small child. Spending time with a teenager who is growing before your eyes. Nurturing your intimate relationships.
Creating change. Working for what is right. Attending births. Writing for peace. Serving food.
And we get tired! And, of course, that’s ok. If you weren’t tired, it would be very clear that you weren’t fulfilling your potential. And not fulfilling your potential is not your way.
But that’s why, when you are tired, you need to reenergize so that you continue to reach your potential. Continue to care for others, to make change, to provide an example, to live well.
I'm really looking forward to the possibility of surrounding myself with strong, active (if a little tired) women - this summer, for a week.
Please make that first step. I am offering you the chance to spend one week in one of the most beautiful spots in the world, away from your work and your duties, surrounded by nature and the amazing people who will make up our group. I want to take care of you, and I will be there to facilitate, to guide, and to be silent when needed. (and my husband will cook...)
The first steps?
Check out the retreat: https://www.mbcdoulaschool.ca/summerbirthretreat.html
Like what you see? Pay the deposit. https://www.mbcdoulaschool.ca/store/p16/Summer_Retreat_%28deposit%29.html
Contact me! Leave a comment and I promise I will get back to you.
Making that first step is the most important thing you can do for yourself, today. I promise you won’t regret it.
With Love and Respect,
Rivka
I’ve been feeling the winter blues a little lately. I wonder if you have too. My life decisions recently have been huge but difficult. I’ve chosen to walk away from doing what I love, and I’m walking to different things (or running, actually. Literally).
My school is going through some changes - I am no longer offering group classes, except on demand, and I am moving towards individual mentorship, self-directed work, either in person or online! Super interesting and exciting. And I'm finding the time to build a new project that will unfold in a few years. Also exciting. And the present takes care of itself, with a large family, a cafe, and a marathon to run ...
It's so hard for us to take time off, to remove ourselves from our duties – even if those duties are ones we feel with the very deepest parts of ourselves that we MUST do. The tasks that we actually do have to do, time after time. Listening to an adult child. Comforting a small child. Spending time with a teenager who is growing before your eyes. Nurturing your intimate relationships.
Creating change. Working for what is right. Attending births. Writing for peace. Serving food.
And we get tired! And, of course, that’s ok. If you weren’t tired, it would be very clear that you weren’t fulfilling your potential. And not fulfilling your potential is not your way.
But that’s why, when you are tired, you need to reenergize so that you continue to reach your potential. Continue to care for others, to make change, to provide an example, to live well.
I'm really looking forward to the possibility of surrounding myself with strong, active (if a little tired) women - this summer, for a week.
Please make that first step. I am offering you the chance to spend one week in one of the most beautiful spots in the world, away from your work and your duties, surrounded by nature and the amazing people who will make up our group. I want to take care of you, and I will be there to facilitate, to guide, and to be silent when needed. (and my husband will cook...)
The first steps?
Check out the retreat: https://www.mbcdoulaschool.ca/summerbirthretreat.html
Like what you see? Pay the deposit. https://www.mbcdoulaschool.ca/store/p16/Summer_Retreat_%28deposit%29.html
Contact me! Leave a comment and I promise I will get back to you.
Making that first step is the most important thing you can do for yourself, today. I promise you won’t regret it.
With Love and Respect,
Rivka
Saturday, March 8, 2014
International Women's Day
This International Women's day, I would like to hand a mimosa branch to each and every one of the people I love.
This day is about women, about peace, strength, the power of love.
We are not there yet, but I dream of a world where women can give birth with respect and honor; where we can all walk wherever we want whenever we want, a world where there is no hate, no war, no hunger.
"Se non ora, quando?"
If not now, when?
Please go out today and do one thing that will help bring peace.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
March 8, 2012, Festa della Donna
The boy dancing with his mother here was only three years old, years ago in Rome when we went to the airport to pick up our friends who were coming to celebrate the arrival of another baby boy. Mimosa blossoms were being handed out in the airport, to celebrate the Festa della Donna. Him and his big brother each took a blossom and charged each other the full length of the arrival lounge, turning into knights in shining armor before our eyes.
I was in Cuba last week. The bar across the street from the cut-rate hotel reminded me of many of the bars and beer shacks in Africa, where the prostitutes did a brisk business with the white boys who came to drink, dance to the great sounds of east African music, and have a good time. The women were pretty, lively, and strong.
My mother is eighty-one. She comes to visit us in Italy every year around her birthday. She likes a good laugh, parties, and crowds.
We have a good crew of crones in our family - my great aunts all lived well into their nineties and most of them lived alone because of the Great War. One grew raspberries and kept bees. When I was pregnant with my first, she sent me a huge parcel of red raspberry leaves.
My aunt sailed across the Atlantic in a 21 foot sailboat and smoked a pipe. She was the one who rescued me from my first bottle of scotch when I was fourteen.
I am honored to have met many, many women over the years who have committed to living life to the fullest. Some of these are my friends, some are my relatives, some I met randomly on a bus, some have been women I worked with. But all of them shared that spirit, that sense that life is not a padded hallway leading to some nice hotel room, but rather a difficult, sometimes dangerous and unexpected journey that leads to who knows where.
 |
| Add caption |
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)