A male's perspective

It was interesting to read in the Sunday age today the following...

"Women have also been made to be confused by the merchants of glad; clothing and so on, and this foolish notion they can have it all. These days, there's a kind of hidden feeling of horror that women undergo now in relationships, when the bloke walks out and leaves then scrambling around wine bars to find someone to impregnate them."

And

"I find it amazing that many Australian women spend hours every day trying to look beautiful, yet they sound like cats sliding down a blackboard."

Catalysts for reflection. 

Me-time

I feel I that I should 'whisper' the following... I mean should I really admit that I love lazy Sunday's. Like today when I had the opportunity to spend the morning reading in bed under my quilted doona, pottering at home while the sunlight streamed through the open doors and I could look out towards the bay, a bottomless cup of Italian brew in a Robert Gordon floral mug, an aromatic candle gently scenting the room, fresh linen on the clothes line, home made thai chilli and pumpkin soup simmering, tunes from the radio fading in and out of my consciousness, wearing pj's 'till way past noon, the distant thought of study...

Over the years, the balance between work, family, friends, sport, social and art commitments has shifted and while I once loved that my diary was cramming with social rendez-vous and exciting commitments, now I just love these days.. and need them too.

Being with family and friends is something I really value, need, am inspired and nurtured by; but in order to be present in these relationships and sustain my responsibilities, I have began to realise that I need to have unscheduled days - when I have the chance to do little,

Throughout life we can shift from one perspective to another. In my case, after years of activity etc, I really relish the feeling that the world is evolving outdoors, while I'm nestled in doors simply enjoying life. Days like today are so nurturing, clarifying, and restorative and leave me feeling as though I have more to give and receive.

Mid-sun-day reflections

Three inspiring quotes by Sunday "Life" author Angela Mollard.

However far you wander - go, scoop the world out with a spoon - my arm will be crooked, waiting for yours, to slide back through it.

Courage - Never be less than you are.

Saying no is the hardest thing. Before every choice, there's a split second. Use it.

Horizion

Whilst my hair was being coiffured Tammy said...

 "We all live under the one sky, but we don't all share the same view of the horizon"

Dreamscapes

This morning I read a recent interview with Nicole Kidman in which she states that she "writes for herself" because it is her way of processing things - of letting things go. Additionally she revealed that during her teenage years she "kept diaries" and that these are now kept in her parents home in Sydney. Apparently her mother recently asked her "Should I burn them yet?" To which she responded, "Not yet, not yet". Because for Nicole having "access to the psychology of myself as a teenager" is a "hard thing to let go".

The article made me reflect upon the many diaries I have written since I was 13 years old and that are stored in the homes were I have lived. Pages filled with thoughts, prose, dreams, angst, love forlorn and love filled. Entries written whilst travelling and living abroad. Stories of conversations, experiences, emotions and questions. 

Infrequently, over the years, I've referred to these diaries; mainly, stumbling upon them accidentally rather than locating them to relive a significant moment from the past. On the occasion when I have began to read through my old journals, I have been easily and voyeuristically engaged with the ideas and emotions of my youth. Then as the final page is turned and the cover is closed, I realign with the everyday with a deeper sense of something that has been me, the me that was and is.

These entries are like dreamscapes that bring back vivid sensations from that time. The wisdom that a life lived brings. It's a wonderful and powerful sensation.

Maybe, I'll start a project this Spring. For one month, every year, for ten years I'd like to keep a diary. To create a snapshot of my life over time, that can be compiled and read one day... when the need for a dream-scape arises.

Possibilities

Today, tomorrow feels full of possibilities. 

Not sure where the wind will take my sail, how far, how, when and with whom.. and I'm Ok with that. I've just lived a very rich, inspiring and immersive experience and my senses are still a buzz.

Attachments

Reflections on "Attachments" from dOCUMENTA13, 2012.

..so what attachments lie ahead for you.. for me.. for us??

Blood Wedding

The performance of Federico Garcia Lorca's play 'Blood Wedding' at the Malthouse Theatre, Melbourne was a little disappointing. 

In Blood Wedding a young 22 year old bride leaves her wedding reception, her family, friends and a noble groom with her old flame; and inadvertedly the man who is married to her pregnant cousin. When they realise that the two have left together, a chase begins. The couple are captured, the groom and lover fight and are killed. The bride returns to her home to beg the grooms mother to kill her, so that she can die defending the man she loved. Her request is corned by the mother-in-law, who holds no regard for her beauty, purity or sorrow. 

Despite Marion Potts direction, the poetic bi-lingual dialogue presented by the cast appeared to be inadequately prepared, over acted, and poorly represented. The characters lacked passion and seemed disconnected. The whole play failed to engage me.

Visually however, the stage design was simple and beautiful. The golden gravel and pools of hazy mid day light evoked an arid European landscape and palpably portrayed the sweltering hear of a Spanish Summer wedding. 

One of the most realistic and enjoyable scenes was when the families gathered together, to joyously dance and celebrate the union of the couple. In that moment the characters seems to loose themselves in spontaneous movement and relate naturally to one another.

Love making

He said...

"I love you. I'm desperate for you. Just touching you is a connection from me to you. I'm still here. I still adore you. Where has she gone?"

For men its not about getting their rocks off. They want the women they love to want them, and they want to feel like a real man by being desired.

You have to make the decision to put sex back in the equation and to make it a priority.

'Just do it. Even if you don't particularly feel like of it'.

Its can be a bond between you and him. It can heal. It can nurture. It can set you free and you can begin to understand things with your senses, in a way that can not be communicated with just words.