As always, the chimes and their resonances, between lives
lived awakening the senses more and more fully, both externally and internally.
My senses tingle with excitement when your 7am Monday offerings of words arrive, you have such inspiring talent! I immediately want to reply and share insights in an animated conversation, but life intervenes and I am drawn out into nature for early summer walks (and a sharing of your words), hanging out in hammocks in the cool forest, with good friends and leafy tall beings.
I loved reading this earlier today and it is staying with me, thank you. I have many thoughts around being soft whilst at the same time not allowing myself to be squidged! Life has been a bit of a toing and froing with this for me!
However, the passage that gave me such comfort this morning is this; "........... ‘dying’. Those inverted commas are there because we dearly need a new word for this so-called dying, a process where unnecessary loads are dropped, energy is returned to the centre and the root, and the production of dense foliage at the periphery is swapped for the craggy generosity of offering a home to more than 400 kinds of bird, invertebrate, fungi, lichen, and numerous other beings. Within a whole forest ecosystem, this is sometimes referred to as ‘climax’. I prefer ‘maturity’."
This is just a beautiful description of post menopause for me and I will be sending it to all my post menopausal friends to contemplate.
I echo what Jane said and I really look forward to your wise offerings.
My heart is echoing yours. She's been feeling too vulnerable. I have to keep reminding her, "Softness is not weakness." Sometimes she listens and relaxes; sometimes she clenches again. The dance continues...
Jun 12, 2023·edited Jun 12, 2023Liked by Caroline Ross
Caro,
Girl, you slay me. It's quite clear to me, as I quickly approach my 67th bday, how and why I "turned out like this": fierce, tough, resilient, wirh no quarter for nostalgia. I went out into the storm of life around age 10, fleeing a dysfunctional parental home built on lies, gross neglect, wild rationalization + self-justification, delusion, abandonment, betrayal, disappointment, contempt, suicidal self-destruction, multi-substance addiction, depression, toxic hide-and-seek -- need I go on, really? Today, I am often criticized by female peers. (I do have to note the gender; my male friends don't voice their criticisms, which I am certain they also have.) Several of my lady friends find me "unsupportive" when I don't applaud and tirelessly VALIDATE their every move and decision. (Why do I even get a vote?) And yet. Like you, I marvel at every tremor and gleam of existence (Woolf). I do feel a spasm of...something?...watching the sunset. I know that there will be fewer and fewer such viewings for me. In work settings, I unflinchingly attack corporate mediocrity, and you can imagine how well that is received. Of course I love cashmere sweaters with no bra, skinnydipping, clean sheets, pussycats, pussywillows. I pick struggling earthworms out of rain puddles. And I do cook for hungry friends. I also find/give/cherish shelter from the storm to my love, Andrew: we've been together since I was 14 and he was 16 (a story of endurance, to be sure!). I think the gender issue, as you point out, makes this confusing. If I were to rock a cock, I'd be called scrappy and brave and brilliant. Now I'm just called a bitch.
Ah, lass.Though I am old with wandering/Through hollow lands and hilly lands...still plucking the silver apples of the moon, / The golden apples of the sun. Just visited a friend (my age, ancient enough, but...) ...week 4 in hospital...Stage 4 lung cancer...definitely gives me a shudder of Qi
I just think you write beautifully, and I love to listen to you reading. “So where does this leave a writer who wishes to be truthful? Who is also a woman who wishes not to see her life pulled apart by strangers. Who is also a teacher for whom the communication of hard-won knowledge is almost a sacred duty.”
I am in my emotions today but I do so appreciate your work. It gleams.
Jun 13, 2023·edited Jun 13, 2023Liked by Caroline Ross
Liked your thoughtful reflections on softness, Caroline, counterpointing the Taoist take on it with the continued expectation in C21st that women should be ditto. It’s in the Tao too, of course, but as a mark of honour, not inferiority.
Also liked the feminine version of the noun ‘connexion’, according to my onboard iPad spellcheck, which curiosity led me to look up.
Pretty sure it’s 300yrs usually stated for ages of oak trees, btw (apols, active inner stickler showing)…
Instead of ‘dying’ how’s about terminal maturity for its final stage? 😉
As always, the chimes and their resonances, between lives
lived awakening the senses more and more fully, both externally and internally.
My senses tingle with excitement when your 7am Monday offerings of words arrive, you have such inspiring talent! I immediately want to reply and share insights in an animated conversation, but life intervenes and I am drawn out into nature for early summer walks (and a sharing of your words), hanging out in hammocks in the cool forest, with good friends and leafy tall beings.
I loved reading this earlier today and it is staying with me, thank you. I have many thoughts around being soft whilst at the same time not allowing myself to be squidged! Life has been a bit of a toing and froing with this for me!
However, the passage that gave me such comfort this morning is this; "........... ‘dying’. Those inverted commas are there because we dearly need a new word for this so-called dying, a process where unnecessary loads are dropped, energy is returned to the centre and the root, and the production of dense foliage at the periphery is swapped for the craggy generosity of offering a home to more than 400 kinds of bird, invertebrate, fungi, lichen, and numerous other beings. Within a whole forest ecosystem, this is sometimes referred to as ‘climax’. I prefer ‘maturity’."
This is just a beautiful description of post menopause for me and I will be sending it to all my post menopausal friends to contemplate.
I echo what Jane said and I really look forward to your wise offerings.
As a menopausal woman, I am very glad to hear this chimed with you.
My heart is echoing yours. She's been feeling too vulnerable. I have to keep reminding her, "Softness is not weakness." Sometimes she listens and relaxes; sometimes she clenches again. The dance continues...
Caro,
Girl, you slay me. It's quite clear to me, as I quickly approach my 67th bday, how and why I "turned out like this": fierce, tough, resilient, wirh no quarter for nostalgia. I went out into the storm of life around age 10, fleeing a dysfunctional parental home built on lies, gross neglect, wild rationalization + self-justification, delusion, abandonment, betrayal, disappointment, contempt, suicidal self-destruction, multi-substance addiction, depression, toxic hide-and-seek -- need I go on, really? Today, I am often criticized by female peers. (I do have to note the gender; my male friends don't voice their criticisms, which I am certain they also have.) Several of my lady friends find me "unsupportive" when I don't applaud and tirelessly VALIDATE their every move and decision. (Why do I even get a vote?) And yet. Like you, I marvel at every tremor and gleam of existence (Woolf). I do feel a spasm of...something?...watching the sunset. I know that there will be fewer and fewer such viewings for me. In work settings, I unflinchingly attack corporate mediocrity, and you can imagine how well that is received. Of course I love cashmere sweaters with no bra, skinnydipping, clean sheets, pussycats, pussywillows. I pick struggling earthworms out of rain puddles. And I do cook for hungry friends. I also find/give/cherish shelter from the storm to my love, Andrew: we've been together since I was 14 and he was 16 (a story of endurance, to be sure!). I think the gender issue, as you point out, makes this confusing. If I were to rock a cock, I'd be called scrappy and brave and brilliant. Now I'm just called a bitch.
What a great life, thanks for sharing that.
(The shudder is how we know we are alive.)
Ah, lass.Though I am old with wandering/Through hollow lands and hilly lands...still plucking the silver apples of the moon, / The golden apples of the sun. Just visited a friend (my age, ancient enough, but...) ...week 4 in hospital...Stage 4 lung cancer...definitely gives me a shudder of Qi
Loved this, thank you!
I just think you write beautifully, and I love to listen to you reading. “So where does this leave a writer who wishes to be truthful? Who is also a woman who wishes not to see her life pulled apart by strangers. Who is also a teacher for whom the communication of hard-won knowledge is almost a sacred duty.”
I am in my emotions today but I do so appreciate your work. It gleams.
Liked your thoughtful reflections on softness, Caroline, counterpointing the Taoist take on it with the continued expectation in C21st that women should be ditto. It’s in the Tao too, of course, but as a mark of honour, not inferiority.
Also liked the feminine version of the noun ‘connexion’, according to my onboard iPad spellcheck, which curiosity led me to look up.
Pretty sure it’s 300yrs usually stated for ages of oak trees, btw (apols, active inner stickler showing)…
Instead of ‘dying’ how’s about terminal maturity for its final stage? 😉
It may well be 300 years, where I read it may not have been correct... 900years seems more like it.
Your continued truthful and artfully woven introspective wisdom is an inspiration. Thank you!
You write beautifully.
I'm pleased I found you.
Marty NZ