I am re-posting this piece from last year. Once again, it is dedicated to all the women, young and old, with whom I have shared friendship, love, heartache, laughter (so much laughter), joy, tears and everything in-between. You have enriched my life beyond measure and my gratitude is yours 💓
Having grown up living in a town on the east coast of our small island, I was only vaguely aware, up until about ten years ago, of the tradition of Nollaig na mBan (Women’s Christmas), celebrated on January 6th, more widely, apparently, in rural areas, and especially in the West, over many generations. In times gone by, according to tradition, ‘Women’s Christmas’ (also called ‘Little Christmas’ because it was the twelfth and last day of Christmas) was a modest affair, where women visited their friends’ houses and ate the last of the Christmas cake, if there was any left by that stage, while the men stayed home and did what was considered ‘women’s work’, such as child-minding. Of course, modernity has since caught up on this tradition, bringing with it a touch of commercialisation so that it is not uncommon now, to see restaurants and hotels offering events and packages for ‘Women’s Christmas’.
What I found myself wondering on January 6th just gone, is how the world might be transformed if every woman offered herself the gift of ‘time out’, not once a year but every single day of the year. I don’t mean a lengthy period of time – modern life does not allow for such extravagances – but ten minutes, or even five, to step out of the various life-roles, numerous and demanding as they are and step in to oneself. I picture one of those signs on a shop door to let people know the door is locked briefly, except this one would say ‘Just Stepped In - Back 10 mins’.
I like to think the world would look very different if every woman gave herself this gift on a daily basis, to check in with what is moving inside – a break from being constantly alert to what is going on outside. How often have we heard ourselves (and others) say “I just need five minutes’ peace to myself”, especially mothers of young toddlers, some of whom have told me they cannot even use the toilet without company?
“I’m a bitch, I’m a lover, I’m a child, I’m a mother / I’m a sinner, I’m a saint, I do not feel ashamed / I’m your hell, I’m your dream, I’m nothing in-between / you know you wouldn’t want it any other way…. I’m a bitch, I’m a tease, I’m a goddess on my knees / when you hurt, when you suffer, I’m your angel undercover / I’ve been numb, I’m revived, can’t say I’m not alive…” - Meredith Brooks / Shelly Peiken
And of course, the more roles we have and the more accomplished we are at fulfilling them, so much higher is the expectation not just from others, but more importantly, from ourselves. Expectation, in turn, is a willing bed-fellow of guilt and this is a theme I have heard expressed in different forms, by every woman I know, regardless of which roles she plays. Motherhood, it seems, comes with a special brand of guilt. Though I have not had this experience myself, I can imagine the strain of such a burden, added to feelings of inadequacy and shortcomings in other spheres like the workplace, caring for aging parents, being a good sister and friend… The list goes on and it is oh, so easy to become lost in it.
I was lost for a very long time, while living the life I thought I was supposed to live i.e. the life I believed others thought was ‘good’. I got a degree, a ‘good’ job, a promotion, another degree, another promotion, a nice house in a ‘good’ location… I ticked all the boxes and from the outside looking in, my life was perfect. Except it wasn’t at all perfect. The more I did what I thought I was supposed to do, what I believed others wanted me to do, the more lost I felt and the more unwell I became.
Every evening, taking off my office-wear after work, changing into ‘my’ clothes, I would feel as though I was quite literally, changing persona. Somehow, I was miraculously changed back to me. That being the case, who had I been for the ten hours since I left the house in the morning? In truth, I still wasn’t me, even after changing attire. I became the girlfriend in a rather unhappy relationship; the graduate student, diligently researching her Masters’ degree; the daughter who felt guilty about not seeing enough of her parents, despite only living around the corner; the friend who felt guilty about never having enough time to spend with friends... I was a stranger in my own life, chasing shadows and never quite catching up.
It took me a long time to recognise the split engendered by becoming lost in all of my various roles and how that split was damaging my health and well-being. Over the years, I have listened to many women speak similar stories, telling me that they feel they have somehow ‘lost’ themselves within all their roles; lost sight of who they are outside of these parts they play in other people’s lives; that they have become as shadows in their own lives.
How powerful an act then to reclaim those shadows and become fully present in one’s own life? I believe it is powerful and radical enough to change our culture entirely. It is an act of remembering who we are when roles fade into the background and as such, has the power to re-member us back to wholeness.
She believed she could but she was tired, so she stepped off the spinning wheel to rest for a moment and to her immense surprise, the world went on as usual…
There is no prescription for this practice. Each woman must find her own gift to herself each day. Its timing and application might change daily, depending on so many variables in an individual life and that is okay. The key is to allot five or ten minutes daily, to ‘stepping-in’, doing something purely for oneself, that brings joy and equally, not to indulge guilt if it doesn’t happen on any given day, for whatever reason.
Stepping-in does not necessarily mean meditation but what is meditation if not presence? By permitting myself to be present for me - and only me - for ten minutes, surely then, I am meditating on me? During that ten minutes, I could doodle, nap, day-dream, give myself a foot-rub, look at a tree, plant or flower, allowing a soft-focus in my eyes, pet my dog and notice the feel of his fur on my hand, listen to a song I love and dance if the mood takes me, or any number of other doings or not-doings. The point is that metaphorically, I have put up my ‘do not disturb’ sign (for me as much as anyone else) and allowed myself those ten minutes to step in and withdraw my focus from the roles I play in life. I have given myself my full attention and intention, however briefly.
Only YOU can give yourself this gift – no one else has that power. The benefits of this practice are enormous and if you are willing to let your mind wander there, you never know but your heart might show up holding its hand…
The three poems below (text & audio) weave around this theme and if you would like to be guided to a deep awareness of your soma (body), to get you started with this practice, you could try 'A Heart-felt gift for you’ somatic meditation. Whatever you choose, engage joy as your ally, or put another way - ENJOY 😊
Everyday Goddess
It is not for this that you were born
cleaning the house with those torn rags of childhood dreams
remnants of all you might have been
had you followed the vision of teenage queen you once were
full of hope for all that life promised
buried now under laundry, tossed on the floor
a constant reminder of daily grind that wore you down
turning your mind to mundanity.
You tell yourself you chose this life
can’t complain of your role as a wife and mother.
But you also chose ecstatic sex
rolling in grass when you dreamed of a bed to romp in
movies, wine and pleasure on a rainy day
exchanged for nappies when babies came to feed at your breast.
Days turned to weeks and months to years
frustration became the silent tears you couldn’t shed.
And of course, you love this life with your children
when blue line appeared, you were already smitten and full of plans.
Caught between that love and your dreams
you turn the pages of glossy magazines to find comfort.
There, you see such wonderful images
of a home and family not on the fringes like yours
stuck together and frayed at the edges
no pretty flower boxes on window ledges peeling their paint.
Your dreams took the shape of a magazine page
with pictures of women who seem to defy age and nature.
You tried all those diets, drank the strange juice
promised elixir of eternal youth in a bottle.
You slapped on potions that cost so much
tried to out-run guilt for indulging such extravagance
with a mortgage to pay.
Now, here you are, still cleaning the house
it’s your weekend too but they’re all out doing their thing.
The pride you once took, is long-since faded
as the curtains, once pretty, now tired and jaded
from hanging there too long.
Tears almost come but you hold them back
like the painting you hung to hide that crack above the fireplace
the fire that witnessed so much pleasure
remembered as moments of long-lost treasure from times past.
The fire is still there, deep in your belly
smouldering now but something is swelling inside you
a nameless desire to connect with that girl
who looked in the face of the big wide world with anticipation.
You remember how it felt, her tireless passion
for saving the planet, not caring for fashion dictated by others.
You look in the mirror to see if she’s there
but instead, you see lines ingrained by the cares of adulthood.
Though something else flickers under the lines
draws your attention to that cheeky smile she used to wear.
You wonder what else has been buried and hidden
under the rags that have kept you imprisoned
in a hum-drum existence.
Feeling a beat that comes from within
you start to dance and your fingers unbidden
trace your own landscape.
The feeling grows as you move and sway
until standing there naked in the broad light of day, you see her.
Smiling back, she begs you come closer
to touch all the places where life has woven its threads.
What you see now is radiant beauty
the goddess before you speaks of your duty to love her.
She never left, she’s been calling your name
she carried you through when pain became unbearable.
She lives in you still as your sister and friend
the one who will love you when all else ends and decays.
She is the giver of life and hope
her fountain of youth will always flow for you.
In the forest of life, you lost sight of the woods
she’s been calling you back offering sweet rosebuds, divinely scented.
As she dances now in your living room
at last you can see that the goddess is you and always has been.
© Áine Fortune 2020
As Within So Without
A moment of solace where peace is not trespassed
by mind intruding on kindness of flowers
view extends towards sea in flow
caressing this land I know as éiriú.
Oh, to live in this heavenly place
the space I inhabit deep inside.
Where fear does not stalk
there is no need to hide from its shadow.
So let me linger here awhile
before I return to empty miles walked without you.
Shall I keep a stone to carry along
its touch a reminder of where I belong
in every moment, every thought turned to you?
So that when I walk the busy street
only fleeting glimpse of trees caged in
occasional birdsong over din of city traffic
yet still I carry the echo within
of this deep longing that fills my bones.
A memory of you more real than a bus
cellular recall of sensation trusted and whole
the warmth of fur, smell of the earth
gifts of heaven, given at birth to this land
this land that holds me as a mother, her child
regards me still with a mother’s pride
though I walk barefoot and lightly through forest of old
or on paved cold streets that blister my soles
bound tightly in shoes.
And when I look down on those cold, hard streets
I see my sister huddled beneath the pain
soul wide open in the bowl she holds out to the world
as though material gain could touch what she has seen.
Her eyes are mine, she has looked at the flowers
she has smelled all the roses and knows the power of that scent.
She has bathed herself in éiriú’s water, cleansed her skin
of the scars that taught her what needed remembering.
Now, she walks the tightest line
smart business suit covered in slime of politics
worn tired of begging for an existence imagined
at the top of this shiny staircase.
Climbing those stairs to reach the view
from a penthouse suite for the chosen few
when all along, a place was reserved
my name carved in dust, forever preserved
in the ashes from whence I came.
© Áine Fortune 2020
Thankyou
If my prayer today has just one word – thankyou
then let my heart open to receive the answer
the crashing of waves, cry of gulls
proclaiming her bounty as they wheel above.
If my heart is open to receive the answer
then I notice the trees, their branches, dancing
I see the full sky, taste the rain
I call to the heavens and She, without name.
If I notice the trees, their branches dancing
then I feel the strong roots that keep me standing
woven together with those of my sisters
who carry the light that in darkness whispers.
If I feel the strong roots that keep me standing
then I dance in the mud with wild abandon
moon as my touchstone, stars as my guide
the circle that feeds me and sustains all of life.
If I dance in the mud with wild abandon
then I feel the joy softly landing
deep in my heart that receives her answer
as I offer the prayer with just one word – Thankyou.
© Áine Fortune 2021
This so beautiful and well-timed. I have seven billion things I should do today but instead I'm lying on my bed chilling with my dog. I was thinking about our conversation the other day and lo and behold, your post popped up. I'm so glad to have you in my life 💓 Your poetry is so inspiring and heart warming. Thank you. My friend. My goddess 😍
Correction: Meredith Brooks & Shelly Peiken wrote the lyrics quoted in this piece, not Alanis Morisette. Thank you Jen for pointing that out to me - I always thought it was Alanis who wrote and sang that song.....