They sat across the room from each other. Their hair had big, soft curls at the end, the raw beauty of hair taken down for the night. The room was warm with light but cool with chill making the women stay in their seats, nestled into their sweaters. Eyes wide and unfocussed, they listened. His voice was the only sound in the room. Each syllable rolled off his tongue with practiced storyteller inflection, the brown of his eyes buried in the book. The story was familiar but at the same time unknown in this other language. Every so often one of the women would confirm a word or phrase in French with him. The other women listened, following only the barest minimum for survival level comprehension. His warm voice turned the room into a living, breathing entity, full of light: a gift.
The story ended and she told her friend across the room that he used to read to her in French every night before bed.
As the other woman found her way under her blankets, she felt a new kind of love ease her gently into another world of stories.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Sunday, November 19, 2006
rhymes with red
you accepted the promise in the darkest part of the forest but
the trees they whispered it was
not for you
it was not for you
you respected the goddess but the wind blew honest and
it was not for you
not for you
and then the moon broke free of the clouds
suddenly you saw through her shroud
her gaze was in a daze the haze you made
surrounded
not for you
you may walk the walk but you don't
talk the talk and her heart is locked
but for a memory
of who you used to be
when you accepted her promise
her truth was honest
but now the forest weeps for you
the trees they whispered it was
not for you
it was not for you
you respected the goddess but the wind blew honest and
it was not for you
not for you
and then the moon broke free of the clouds
suddenly you saw through her shroud
her gaze was in a daze the haze you made
surrounded
not for you
you may walk the walk but you don't
talk the talk and her heart is locked
but for a memory
of who you used to be
when you accepted her promise
her truth was honest
but now the forest weeps for you
Saturday, November 11, 2006
remembrance day
It is Remembrance Day.
At the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, I am pretty sure I was in the shower. It occurred to me that it was an appropriate day to celebrate my freedom and ponder world peace.
(sex culture sex)
(culture sex culture)
1. I am sitting at my table in my pyjamas. I live in Canada. It is winter. This necessitates warm sleeping costumes. The bottoms are covered in Hello Kitty. I recently learned she lives in London and likes to bake cookies. I like her because she reminds me of a different time and place where contemplation such as this would not be possible: a culture so far removed from my own that when my own confronts me, it is this far away place that feels normal. Reverse culture shock.
2. My sweater is a long sweater. It buttons right to the neck. It is gray. I saw it in the mirror either this morning or last night and was struck by how much it reminded me of Muslim modest dress. When I moved back into my mother's house and the only thing to do at night was listen to the coyotes sing, I bought a copy of Vogue. Understand how unusual this is for me - I don't wear makeup, I never know what the current trends are, and when I find something I like I buy three in different colours. I am so far from being a fashion victim I don't think I can even use the term correctly in a sentence. However, deep in my soul is a longing for feet that would fit Manolo's shoes, and every now and then I can actually read something like Vogue cover to cover. In one sitting. This time I found a number of garments had taken substantial influence from the geographic area where the Middle East becomes Asia. It dawned on me that my sweater might actually be fashionable.
3. This haphazardly brings me to want to voice my opinion on women who wear veils. It seems the dead horse has been theologically beaten beyond recognition, but with little or no consideration for the spiritual reasons behind the veil. When I cover myself, and I occasionally do, it is for spiritual reasons. I do not differentiate between my emotional, physical and spiritual space. It is one. When you stare at me, you are seeing my body, my feelings and my connection to the divine, all at once. Sometimes I find that overwhelming; sometimes I find that akin to being naked in public. Being able to cover myself creates a personal space for me. It is a space where I can hold my physical, emotional and spiritual self sacred. When I am able to do that, I am able to face the world in a more competent way because nothing of who I am is being compromised.
4. I do not understand how being covered can been seen as a threat. Admittedly, it gives the covered one a bit more strength, but how should it be the covered one's problem if our culture isn't equipped to handle a perception of strength? I am connected to divinity. If you cannot handle that, why should it be my problem?
5. Covered is sexy. I actually read this in Vogue. A designer who shall remain nameless because I honestly can't remember off the top of my head who he is, expounded on the theory that veiled women are sexy. Who doesn't want to know what's behind the veil? If the rest of her is half as stunning as her eyes, what's not to love?
6. When did modesty become a threat? And how? Why is it so difficult for me to find clothing that doesn't draw attention to my breasts? I speak specifically of the quest to find a sweater to wear for lunch with my Dad. I am his daughter. I am a woman. I have breasts. He doesn't need to see them. Why are most sweaters on the market designed to show off breasts? I'm sure Dad wouldn't be offended. I think we got through that when I was 16 and I'm pretty sure these days I couldn't come up with anything new. I'd simply rather wear something that doesn't scream, "Look! Boobies!"
7. I agree with most principles of modest dress. If I am out in public with my boyfriend, while I feel flattered when other men stare, I'd much rather that they didn't. I also don't think my boyfriend should have to put up with leers from strange men. He knows what I look like naked, the rest of the world shouldn't.
8. How then, do I justify my dance? I am a Middle Eastern dancer. I have taken enough classes for enough years that now I am at a point where performance work or teaching is the direction I am headed. Anyone who has seen the dance either in restaurants or a proper stage show understands that it is physically revelatory. Costumes are scant, movements are technically demanding and considered quite sexy. Take the spiritual into consideration and I have to explain that I dance from a divine connection. My body knows the movements and when I dance, I allow my connection to the divine to guide me in a trance-like state. I rarely choreograph anything for my performance work.
9. I think I understand the levels of metaphor involved in the seven veils of Salome's dance. Having danced, I do not believe she ended in physical nudity but in spiritual nudity. With each veil dropped she showed more of her divine connection until all that was left for her stepfather was a visual presentation of her divine connection to God.
10. This entire process leads me to believe that it is the mind-body-spirit connection that is truly sexy. Women dancing and women covering is a cultural tradition older than time. How the spiritual was taken out of the equation in our culture I am not sure. I refuse to blame women's lib movements because real women's lib includes our unique theologies and connections to the divine. It bothers me that young women who are scantily clothed do not seem to appreciate the divine - or at least that is the impression I am left with. I feel sad. I feel violated on their behalf because there is a divinity in the profane that they are not acknowledging. I look at younger cousins who are "hooking up" with strange men and they feel awful when he doesn't phone back because no on is honouring the divine in what they are doing. I see women when I travel who are looking to pick up men everywhere they go and I understand. I know they are seeking something familiar in culture shock. I understand that so well. But in meeting all these men they invariably forget about their connection to the divine and they are left feeling just as disconnected and shocked as before. What I learned abroad was that often a visit to a temple or other sacred ground with an open heart often yielded a greater sense of connection than a strange man ever would have.
11. I suppose a conclusion is warranted. It goes something along the lines of this: Our culture is threatened by the mind-body-spirit connection exemplified in wearing a veil. It has set apart nuns, monks, women in hijab and men who wear beards for religious reasons. What we need to realize is that the problem is not with the veiled ones, but with those who cannot make peace with their own divinity, whatever their religion, whatever their beliefs. When the world understands that sexy is something that can be found in this trinity, and is no longer threatened by it, I see a slim possibility for universal world peace.
At the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, I am pretty sure I was in the shower. It occurred to me that it was an appropriate day to celebrate my freedom and ponder world peace.
(sex culture sex)
(culture sex culture)
1. I am sitting at my table in my pyjamas. I live in Canada. It is winter. This necessitates warm sleeping costumes. The bottoms are covered in Hello Kitty. I recently learned she lives in London and likes to bake cookies. I like her because she reminds me of a different time and place where contemplation such as this would not be possible: a culture so far removed from my own that when my own confronts me, it is this far away place that feels normal. Reverse culture shock.
2. My sweater is a long sweater. It buttons right to the neck. It is gray. I saw it in the mirror either this morning or last night and was struck by how much it reminded me of Muslim modest dress. When I moved back into my mother's house and the only thing to do at night was listen to the coyotes sing, I bought a copy of Vogue. Understand how unusual this is for me - I don't wear makeup, I never know what the current trends are, and when I find something I like I buy three in different colours. I am so far from being a fashion victim I don't think I can even use the term correctly in a sentence. However, deep in my soul is a longing for feet that would fit Manolo's shoes, and every now and then I can actually read something like Vogue cover to cover. In one sitting. This time I found a number of garments had taken substantial influence from the geographic area where the Middle East becomes Asia. It dawned on me that my sweater might actually be fashionable.
3. This haphazardly brings me to want to voice my opinion on women who wear veils. It seems the dead horse has been theologically beaten beyond recognition, but with little or no consideration for the spiritual reasons behind the veil. When I cover myself, and I occasionally do, it is for spiritual reasons. I do not differentiate between my emotional, physical and spiritual space. It is one. When you stare at me, you are seeing my body, my feelings and my connection to the divine, all at once. Sometimes I find that overwhelming; sometimes I find that akin to being naked in public. Being able to cover myself creates a personal space for me. It is a space where I can hold my physical, emotional and spiritual self sacred. When I am able to do that, I am able to face the world in a more competent way because nothing of who I am is being compromised.
4. I do not understand how being covered can been seen as a threat. Admittedly, it gives the covered one a bit more strength, but how should it be the covered one's problem if our culture isn't equipped to handle a perception of strength? I am connected to divinity. If you cannot handle that, why should it be my problem?
5. Covered is sexy. I actually read this in Vogue. A designer who shall remain nameless because I honestly can't remember off the top of my head who he is, expounded on the theory that veiled women are sexy. Who doesn't want to know what's behind the veil? If the rest of her is half as stunning as her eyes, what's not to love?
6. When did modesty become a threat? And how? Why is it so difficult for me to find clothing that doesn't draw attention to my breasts? I speak specifically of the quest to find a sweater to wear for lunch with my Dad. I am his daughter. I am a woman. I have breasts. He doesn't need to see them. Why are most sweaters on the market designed to show off breasts? I'm sure Dad wouldn't be offended. I think we got through that when I was 16 and I'm pretty sure these days I couldn't come up with anything new. I'd simply rather wear something that doesn't scream, "Look! Boobies!"
7. I agree with most principles of modest dress. If I am out in public with my boyfriend, while I feel flattered when other men stare, I'd much rather that they didn't. I also don't think my boyfriend should have to put up with leers from strange men. He knows what I look like naked, the rest of the world shouldn't.
8. How then, do I justify my dance? I am a Middle Eastern dancer. I have taken enough classes for enough years that now I am at a point where performance work or teaching is the direction I am headed. Anyone who has seen the dance either in restaurants or a proper stage show understands that it is physically revelatory. Costumes are scant, movements are technically demanding and considered quite sexy. Take the spiritual into consideration and I have to explain that I dance from a divine connection. My body knows the movements and when I dance, I allow my connection to the divine to guide me in a trance-like state. I rarely choreograph anything for my performance work.
9. I think I understand the levels of metaphor involved in the seven veils of Salome's dance. Having danced, I do not believe she ended in physical nudity but in spiritual nudity. With each veil dropped she showed more of her divine connection until all that was left for her stepfather was a visual presentation of her divine connection to God.
10. This entire process leads me to believe that it is the mind-body-spirit connection that is truly sexy. Women dancing and women covering is a cultural tradition older than time. How the spiritual was taken out of the equation in our culture I am not sure. I refuse to blame women's lib movements because real women's lib includes our unique theologies and connections to the divine. It bothers me that young women who are scantily clothed do not seem to appreciate the divine - or at least that is the impression I am left with. I feel sad. I feel violated on their behalf because there is a divinity in the profane that they are not acknowledging. I look at younger cousins who are "hooking up" with strange men and they feel awful when he doesn't phone back because no on is honouring the divine in what they are doing. I see women when I travel who are looking to pick up men everywhere they go and I understand. I know they are seeking something familiar in culture shock. I understand that so well. But in meeting all these men they invariably forget about their connection to the divine and they are left feeling just as disconnected and shocked as before. What I learned abroad was that often a visit to a temple or other sacred ground with an open heart often yielded a greater sense of connection than a strange man ever would have.
11. I suppose a conclusion is warranted. It goes something along the lines of this: Our culture is threatened by the mind-body-spirit connection exemplified in wearing a veil. It has set apart nuns, monks, women in hijab and men who wear beards for religious reasons. What we need to realize is that the problem is not with the veiled ones, but with those who cannot make peace with their own divinity, whatever their religion, whatever their beliefs. When the world understands that sexy is something that can be found in this trinity, and is no longer threatened by it, I see a slim possibility for universal world peace.
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