Power of Silence

 I went away again. No blogs, no social media, no communication. I just didn't feel like talking. Not long ago I was thinking that I was starting to figure out how to talk to  people online, but my timeline on twitter went silent again.

Why? Who knows. I didn't have an easy life at home. Relationship went through a rocky path. I wasn't in a mood of pretending that everything was rosy. It just it what it is... I've made my bed, I will lie on it... As I got over it, my vaccination date arrived and with it another crisis.

I reacted quite badly to the vaccine and had spent all last weekend in bed, shivering, in fever. Then I got better, just tired. So I did what I had to do, bare minimum, and the rest could wait. Including talking to the world. It clearly doesn't miss me, which suits me just fine.

But there is a book to edit, another to promote, world to conquer... And people are generally nice, why not engage?

What kept me sane and calm, besides yoga, breathing exercises and meditation (or attempts to meditate), were crafts. I was sitting, listening to radio, knitting. Then I tried making bracelets. And it was so calming, taking bracelets that never worked or fell apart, and giving them new life. Unlike knitting, the result came much faster. And with the finished project, the energy came back. I want to show them to the world, and while I am at it, why not talk a little?

While crafting, I stumbled upon a radio play Portrait of a Lady, and loved listening to it. The uneasy life story of the heroine and all the other characters suited my present disillusion. It remained me why stories matter, why they are worth to be told. No happy ending. At certain age, we don't want happy endings, they aren't believable. Sad or open endings are easier to comprehend, I believe.

Manchester Pilgrimage

 I gave myself a book as a birthday present. Britain's Pilgrim Places is a beautifully presented book  full of detailed descriptions and photos. It also has codes that let you download the trip onto a map in a phone. I've recently bought my first smartphone and this feature was a revelation. I am also a person who likes know where I am going, tend to get lost, prefer to have a map (and can manage to get lost with the map). And I love walking. A pilgrimage is a walk with a purpose. It doesn't have to be spiritual. It can. I trekked in the Himalayas and it felt profoundly spiritual, without it being a pilgrimage.

What I wanted was an inspiration for walks and this book has plenty. I have immediately found the pilgrimage nearest to me - Manchester 1 Day Pilgrimage from Eccles parish church to Manchester's cathedral. Taking advantage of the nice weather and the fact that nothing was planned last Sunday, I went for my first pilgrimage. It was great.

The book probably offers much nicer and better walks, but I enjoyed this one anyway. It was very convenient. I took the metrolink to Eccles, opened the map app and started walking. The route took me from Eccles to Salford and then to the centre of Manchester. On the way, I passed Salford Cathedral, St Mary's Church and St Ann's Church. I didn't visit any of the churches, some were closed due to the pandemic, other had a mass happening. It didn't really matter.

What mattered was that I had a chance to explore Manchester in a way I usually wouldn't. I would never decide to walk from Salford to Manchester. The walk wasn't too attractive, I have walked past industrial estates and warehouses and alongside busy roads, but I felt like I was reclaiming the city. These places often feel remote, closed. But the map told me to go and I could see there was a footpath, I took it, followed the river Irwell and made my way to familiar, busy streets of Manchester. I now feel that I know the city I live in better. When I drive or take the metrolink, I never realize how close these parts are, how well connected. I would never have thought about taking a detour to Salford Cathedral. I passed the city centre churches and the cathedral many times, but now I looked at them and connected them together. The city centre is changing fast and it is nice to see that some old buildings are still there, marking the passing time.

I've ended my weekend with a feeling of accomplishment. I've made it. It was a small pilgrimage, nothing special, but it was a start. I will find the next one soon. And the effect of a quiet walk, thinking time and time to myself was predictably good. Can't wait for the next pilgrimage.

To The Heart

 Moving through the chakras, I am working with the Anahata - the heart chakra, this month. And I feel the resistance. When I've read about it, many things resonated with me. There is more emphasis on breathing exercises and they are really good. But I've kept pushing away the physical practise. I did a simple set of postures that didn't feel as challenging.

Anahata is all about opening, acceptance, love, movement of the energy up and beyond. But I don't want to go into it. I hesitate. I don't want to think or confront my feelings right now. They are probably too messy. There are many backbends, some balancing postures, things that often make us uncomfortable. We are used to holding ourselves in a certain way. To lock in emotions and feelings, we close up. Therefore opening and reaching out can bring some emotions we didn't expect. On the physical side, my bad shoulder is meeting new limits and I like to explore it. But some boundaries are firm, not everything is possible. I think about the good old times, when that sets of postures would be done much more easily. I will get there when I am ready. In my body or in my head.

April is my favourite month. My dear child was born in April. It is a month of change and challenge. I feel it more strongly this year, maybe because the pandemic is here for second spring and this year, it is different. We are used to it. Not having a birthday party, not travelling for Easter holidays, not being around people is now normal. We are not as afraid of the virus as we were. It is still here, but we are so used to it being here, we just keep the distance, wash our hands, wear the mask... And it is the opening up, meeting people, going out about that make us worried. I went through a full scale of emotions this month. Excitement, denial, sadness. Now I am at making plans, plotting stage. I will need to see it through to action. But just seeing that I am slowly getting ready is surely a good sign.

The Value of Work

 Over a year since the first lockdown. Lots of comments on the news. We've been through a lot while staying put, haven't we? There were so many ideas during the time, especially at the beginning: about community spirit, self-improvement, learning to appreciate the little things, all noble and nice. But what have we learnt?

One of the things that was talked about a year ago was the value of home work. Something that is done in a rush, always inconvenient, offloaded to someone whenever possible or affordable. With all of us staying home, home work was not furloughed, quite the opposite, it multiplied.

I am a housewife. That is my official title. A yogini, writer, mother, sister, dog walker, photographer, knitter, artist - fancy words, but when it comes to the box ticking exercise, housewife it is. None of the things that fulfil me and make me happy bring in any income, therefore they are hobbies. I am not paid for the housework I do either. Therefore it doesn't count, it seems. But by doing it and by taking care of all the errands and child care duties I give husband the opportunity to do his job, travel, work at variable times. He supports the family. He is the person of value, he provides. What do I do?

Often, it seems like nothing. I was even introduced like that by dear husband when a new neighbour came over to meet us. 'Lucinda does nothing.' I was reminded about that old grudge of mine recently, just as we were listening to the news on the radio. They mentioned that women took on more of the housework and childcare during the lockdown. Husband commented: 'Well, more women than men were furloughed, so they weren't doing anything anyway.' Where do I start this argument, I thought to myself.

The work that goes into the creation of a home is invisible to half of the population, it seems. It is something that happens, gets done, is easy, even nothing. They only notice it when nobody is there to do it for them. Most of the work has to be planned, because for a home to run smoothly, you have to be on top of things. Shopping, cleaning, maintenance, repairs, cooking, laundry, bills, appointments, gardening..... everything has to be thought about in advance, and then it has to be done. Preferably properly, which means that nobody notices it actually happened. And therefore it becomes as invisible as a woman after her 35th birthday.

Ever since that comment, I remind husband that he is doing nothing and therefore he can do this or that. But the thing is, I don't want to do that. I don't want to keep telling him what needs to be done, why, how, when, and why I can't, or won't do it myself. It is easier to do it myself. Which he knows. And of course, he will just wait for me to do it. It is a stupid, endlessly repeated circle.

Nobody learnt the value of housework apart from the people who did it for the first time in years - professionals who could afford nannies, cleaners, dog walkers, and who supported many jobs in the same way husband supports my existence while I (apparently) daydream. The people who found themselves staying at home, working from home, and have met the second shift they forgot existed, were supposed to realize the value of house work. But did they?

I was bringing up our child with no help, there were no friends or relatives to turn to. Which was fine, we knew it would be so. But I still remember how we started the nursery after dear child was three years old. Fifteen hours a week - three morning, full day on Thursday, home on Friday. And many people asked me: 'What will you do now?' As if the time between drop off and pick up was an endless sea of work opportunities. When, true to be told, I just wanted to get the chores done without them being undone by a child crawling behind me... What can you 'do' in the small time given in the nursery year?

I admire people who started a business from the kitchen table, published a book, became influencers, studied and graduated, while having one child after another. And I salute all working mothers. But is it so bad to admit that I don't want to do laundry at ten at night, clean the house over the weekend, and shuffle child from school to club to friends for dinner, and work only to pay for the extra hours of care? When I had a baby, something I wasn't even sure would happen to me, I stayed with the baby. Because bringing up a baby takes time, so does recovery. Other issues slowed me down later, I am slowly picking up speed, but I can't remember the last day that felt free, truly free. Every day is dotted by small and big things that need to be done. The little, invisible, invaluable work. We will return to the new normal, the economy will pick up, I hope we will all do and be well. We will never forget the pandemic. But will we value the invisible jobs? Maybe when we start valuing carers, helpers, child minders, cleaners.... It will probably take a while.

Recovery

 My shoulder is slowly but surely making progress. It was frozen and had an impingement, too. Last year, I couldn't lift my arm. Now I struggle to put it behind me and up, the sort of movement you do when you fasten your bra. But I am so used to a much less elegant way of putting it on by now, and it is no longer painful. I've adapted. Last year, everything was painful...

I have a practise log in my yoga corner and a year ago, pain in shoulders was already noted quite a few times. It is a long term issue. In the log, some sets are noted by names I gave them, and they were missing for a long time. It is funny, how one problematic part influences the whole body. Even now, getting better, turning my neck isn't the same as it was before. The affected side is different. Because when one part of the body is injured, other parts compensate for it and become affected, too. And each limb is important in the whole range of motions we need in our life.

I welcome the fact that I can do some things again. Other things are a work in progress. This month, I am working with the triangle pose - Trikonasana. Not long ago, it was too difficult to even try, I felt pathetic. These days, it isn't perfect, but there is a way to it and it allows me to stretch in a weird and comfortable way. A posture that essentially comes from the hip shows how the body is connected and how the stretch and breath flows everywhere. I can see how far I can stretch, how I can position myself, what I am allowed to do safely. I can mourn the old me - effortless and flexible. But I enjoy the new me, injured and recovering, because I am getting to know me better. Some days, I notice a progress. Other days, I feel as if the stiff arm is pulling me back.

Injury is never easy and straightforward. But healing is a good process to bring new motivation, appreciation and perspective. I don't follow the physio routine that took me through the worst months very much, I am now confident in doing what I know I can do and finding the way that yoga helps and works. I wouldn't recommend it to a beginner, but a seasoned practitioner surely understands how satisfying it is to adapt something they've missed for so long and use it to feel better. I don't know when I will be fully recovered, but that's OK. As long as I don't hurt and see improvement, I don't mind.

I also try to build up strength. I had to take it easy during the injury. I did simple, gentle practise and the physio. When I started trying flowing practise such as Sun Salutations, I noticed how unused I've become to holding my own weight. These days, I can again hold a plank position without a problem. Same with Downer Dog. It was impossible last year. I've built it up over the winter months, step by step. But a shoulderstand or a headstand are still on my wish list. This side of movement - behind me or over the head - is still a work in progress. I do miss that, and the time will come that I will enjoy them again. Yoga has so much to offer in any circumstances life throws at us, it will never stop to amaze me. Namaste.

A Woman's Week

 Happy Mothers' Day. I decided to wake up and make my own breakfast. Reason one: I love a little bit of peace and quiet in the morning. Reason two: I did try to do the big 'treat me today' thing and demanded a breakfast brought in by dear family in the past, but it isn't worth it. If I have to ask for it, wait for it, and receive something that I could have done better, what is the point? If husband really wanted to spoil me, he would have made the effort. But he can't be arsed, obviously. And dear child is snotty after first week in school. So, yes, have a snooze and leave me alone.

The week started with International Women's Day and ended with mothering Sunday. And during the week we had the Meghan interview, the statistics about how women did more unpaid family work during the pandemics and lockdown, and, mostly, the sad case of Sarah Everard. To wake up on this very day and see women being handcuffed on the news is just not right. And yes, we shouldn't gather during the pandemic. But I didn't see the same strong action when (mostly) men celebrated some football title or game or something more than once.

How to get it right? I could elaborate on every single issue this week, because they all resonate and I have something to say about them. But I don't have the energy today. Last few days on Twitter, I've only read post after post of: this or that thing happened to me, and said silently: yes, me too. I saw the men reactions (not all men, more men are killed, etc) and heard their echo in my home. When these issues pop, the inevitable discussion by the dinner table is frustrating.

I've taken things for granted for so long, it is nice to see that women and girls now say: no, it isn't right. I was always told not to talk to strangers, never to go into anybody's car no matter what they say, to be careful, to try and not walk alone after dark... And I've never questioned it. When I was younger, I would never have thought to say: why don't you educate men better? Not because we blindly assumed that all men are horrible. But because we assumed that it is indeed our responsibility to prevent ourselves from meeting the bad ones. The good men were meant to be respected, not questioned, and educated. It was our business to exist in their world, basically. So yes, let's change things. Girls and women still need to be careful, same as we look before we cross a road. But I hope that we will get rid of this stupid assumption that when something bad does happen it is because we were out late, skimpily dressed and possibly drunk. That the victim is always judged first. If the victim is a woman, of course.

When I grew up and gradually learnt that happy ever after is an illusion, I've discovered a thing nobody wants to agree with: being single is great. Having a boyfriend and not living with him is even better. Freedom is good. We aren't meant to think it or say it out loud. It makes us seem weird, antisocial and antipatriarchal crazy feminists. But. There is a thin line where everything I did in one way proved me right in a sense that independence is great and women deserve it. In the other way, it made life too easy for men. Because I was so wrapped up in my independence project, but I also still somehow believed that men are important and it is my job to make them happy and respect them. So by giving them what they wanted, which is at the end of the day sex with minimum strings attached, and proudly demanding nothing in return, I was  enabling them living an easy life, using me.

Then I've met a man I cared about. And he loved me. And he was also an workaholic and my independence suited him. But I also hoped that the time came to have more and live in a serious relationship. I hoped that he will be the one I will figure out the together thing with. He made the right noises, mentioned future, even kids. The problem was that I listened. And then announced to him that I quit the pill. He was beside himself. Why would I do that? Well, how else do you make babies? Yes, he did mention children, but he meant sometimes in the future, not now. But why not now? I thought about it and realized that the right time will be never. So why not just go for it and figure it out as we go? He didn't end it, but became very careful in bed. I learnt to exist without a pill, went through a stage of absolutely horrible skin, recovered, and figured out what a real menstrual cycle feels like. I liked it and decided not to take the pill again. Then I left the man I loved because I finally, after all these years, understood that men will say whatever to get what they want, but if they really want to do something, they generally tend to do it without talking about it at length.

I could have probably stayed with the lover for a little longer and just exist, but I was over him and over it. And I have met a man who actually wanted to live with his partner and do the everyday stuff that I never figured out how to do. He is now my husband. And the together stuff is great in the beginning, but eventually you catch up and close the circle. And find out that the super sensitive and nice bloke who helps with the dishes and does the heavy lifting and catches the spiders also doesn't really listen to you, also puts his interests first, and also has flaws. But by now, as a woman, I am over it. I accept the way things are and the last solution I would try would be looking for somewhere where the grass is greener. Because it isn't. I wish I was rich enough to afford to live on my own, but I can't, and to be honest, I work hard on this home and want to keep it. And I can do things that I love doing, even if they don't make money, and it means a lot to me, that husbands is fine with a housewife with potentially lucrative hobbies that aren't lucrative. Because he is taken care off and I don't demand much of his time or attention. So everybody wins.

Where do I end? This post took me somewhere completely else than I thought it would. As a woman, I had to learn a lot to navigate the world. And I am still learning. Most of what the older generations passed on to me was useless. I hope I will pass on better things. I won't tell my daughter that certain behaviour or look will deter men. I also won't tell her that she has to be worthy of a man - somehow good enough to deserve him. I will never imply that a marriage and a family are the biggest measures of success. I will however point out the power of independence. And the right to say no to something that doesn't feel right. Even if it makes her unpopular. Because it is not her job to please everyone. I would love to tell her that we are all equal. But we are not.

About Sleeping

 What happens with sleep as life goes on? I've always found sleep important, even when I was young and restless. While in nursing school and knowing that I would do shifts, my thoughts often went to sleep. Will I catch up on it? Will the day sleep be enough? Will it ruin my health?

I've worked as a nurse and did shifts only for a few years, but it proved to be easy. I've slept great. Then life changed, I started to travel, experienced jet lag, and sleep was again on top of my list. I knew that I need to catch up in order to function, and I did. I lived at night for some years, slept in the day, it was easier than the ever changing shifts in the hospital, once I achieved a regular rhythm I was fine. In all these years, sleep wasn't an issue. Apart from planes, I could sleep anywhere. In strange beds, new bedrooms, alone, in dormitories, in tents, under the sky in nature... I would sleep easily. When tired, I would sleep twelve hours, no problem. When very tired, I would wake up refreshed in the same position I fell asleep in. These were the good years.

Slowly, lying on my front became uncomfortable and my neck would protest. Then I was pregnant and sleeping on my front was out of question anyway. I never went back to that position. With years added to my age, pillows appeared. If I didn't support my hips, I wouldn't feel comfortable on my side. Hugging a long, stuffed crocodile also helps for some unknown reason... I would say every decade brings extra pillow and more restrictions. Camping is no longer an easy adventure. I want a big tent where I can stand, big sleeping bag and the extra pillows. No more sleeping in a mummy style bag with a rolled up tracksuit top as a pillow... Otherwise I am not a happy camper!

But it isn't just physical. From the easy nodding off to dreaming a waking up, I slowly transitioned to waking up every time I turn, or waking up randomly just because, or being disturbed by either or all: husband, child, dog, wind and rain, random noise.. And my favourite: 2 am or 3 am thoughts. Sometimes you realize you are awake, but your brain is already working by the time it fully occurs. And the thoughts that come usually start with something bad, difficult, or just an idea. At the small hours, the brain is very prone to offering only bad or very bad scenarios and possibilities. While I can function very well in the every day reality and accept that many things are out of my control, when the same thoughts come in the random early waking up hours, my brain plays with them and offers catastrophe after catastrophe. And how am I supposed to go to sleep?

The quality of sleep changes with age, no matter what I do. I am wiser, practise more meditation and breathing exercises, I am rational, but sleep, the good sleep I remember, eludes me. Sometimes I think it is gone forever. I am coping. I keep up with the routine, have a dark room, avoid alcohol, caffeine, heavy food in the evening and afternoon, I do the right things. I've found things that work. I listen to a radio, podcast or an audio book before sleep or when I wake up during the night. I practise yoga nidra in the evening. I have an orthopaedic pillow. I am trying. But I miss the easy, full, rejuvenating sleep. I see my child sleeping like a log, nothing can wake her, even talking and noise. There were times when I was like that....