Thelma and Louise or Laverne and Shirley?

Journeys

If life is really about the journey – why are we so focused on the destination?

The irony of my current journey strikes me - traveling north from HB in Southern California to Stanford in Northern California to meet my friend, essentially to drive from Stanford to HB. Clearly the destination is not the focus of this journey – as I was already there. (How many other times do we undertake a journey to a destination we are already at – actually or virtually?)

I am joining my friend to provide companionship and distraction as we explore the California coastline – the infamous Highway 1. Traveling side by side in the same vehicle, we are on the same journey both physically and literally - we face the same crossroad. She has just accompanied her only child to the start of his University career at Stanford. In one week I will see my son graduate from high school in Australia. They are both about to embark on the most anticipated journey of their lives. But back to us.

The most famous of all chick flick road movies is “Thelma and Louise”. Revered by my peer group for the female empowerment it portrayed, the movie is ultimately about how two women, trying to escape the doldrums of their everyday existence, encounter enough mayhem and adventure to choose driving their convertible off a cliff instead of returning to reality and facing the music their mayhem composed. I do not expect our road trip to be as eventful. Perhaps our adventure will be more Laverne and Shirley – without the beer and twin sets.  But then they too were childless women in search of their life’s meaning.

Where are the role models for the 40 something empty nesters? Women who married, and had just one child, worked intermittently full and part time, but ultimately sacrificed career advancement over family stability? Sandwiched between our childless career-focused counterparts (now fulfilling roles we would most likely also hold if we had stayed true to our professional potential), our “superwoman” super-focused friends – those genetic freaks who somehow manage to raise perfect children, supervise a household Martha Stewart would be proud of - whilst also steaming full speed ahead with their careers; and those who chose marriage and family as their career. How do you begin to “recalculate” and triangulate the destination when the source of your GPS navigation system for 18 years goes to college?

A woman’s life today offers in theory more opportunities than our mothers or their mothers had – but are the crossroads really so different? When you have chosen to make your priorities about someone else (children, spouse, parents, friends) how do you choose “what next” when those blinkers are removed. When you have arrived at your primary destination, how do you decide where to go next?

I stand here at the cross roads of many journeys.

The mourning after...

Have you ever noticed how the airport is a metaphor for life and death?

The Arrivals Lounge - this is a joyful place to be. People wait in excited huddles, clutching flowers, balloons and "welcome" signs. Someone they have been waiting for is about to arrive, and they can barely tolerate the anticipation of this happy event. There are tears of joy, hugs and kisses, laughter and relief. A celebration of their safe arrival. They will return home and find a place in their life for the traveler, a space that wasn't there before.

The Departure Lounge - the vibe here is very different. Again friends and family gather, huddled in groups to farewell their traveler. There are tears and lingering embraces, sadness for the anticipated emptiness their departure will create. They will return to their everyday life and grieve within the space their departed loved one has vacated.

And what of the person departing? Much like the airport departure there are strictly enforced baggage restrictions. After a life of accumulating belongings, friends and experiences, like a fleeing refugee heading to a better place, we can take nothing with us.  The depth of our faith determines the length of our final journey, and our spirit's ultimate destination. 

In this regard, much like the departing traveler, death can be seen as the start of a new journey. While the farewellers grieve for their loved one's departure, the traveler departing carries with them an air of excitement for the journey ahead.

The road to this point however can be painful and difficult. When our aging and failing body clings to our joyful spirit - pinning it down with pain and resentment, torturing us with memories of what was, presenting wistful yearning for what could still be. One more ride on the roller coaster. One more shot at the championship. One more chance for the heart to gleefully shout "weeeeeee!" The unfairness of this predicament is agonizing.

But as with the airport, the circle of life requires people to depart, and new ones to arrive; as surely as the tide will withdraw, and return again to wash the shore.

Saying goodbye is one of the hardest things we do. It is sad, and painful and casts a gray cloud across our sunshine. In these instances I try to think about the joy of the traveler, and the freedom of their journey. About reuniting in another place, another time.

And sometimes I walk past the arrivals hall, just to vicariously share in their joy; to remember how it feels when someone arrives, rather than leaves.


This post, for our dear friends and neighbors who this week have had to say goodbye to their beloved father and grandfather. His faith will fuel his journey. May your hearts be brave and find peace. Our love and prayers are with you.

Is your yoga practice "inside out" or "outside in"?

Sometimes yoga instruction can feel and sound like a Dr Seuss book – “Inside, outside, upside down…”. Staring at the figure in the mirror before you, it is easy to slip into external focus and critical examination – that bit’s too fat, too thin, too short etc. Judgment underpins our thoughts and intentions, outside-in. In the glaring intensity of the full-length mirror there is nowhere to hide from the confronting reflection fueling the noisy voice within.

Now think about the activities of your daily life. What other endeavor can you undertake specifically designed to reveal your points of physical weakness (except maybe a full body scan…) and slowly, systematically develop and strengthen them? And yet we shun the discomfort and challenging honesty of this process. How often have you heard someone explain “I would love to do yoga, but I have no balance or flexibility?” When was it decided we should only do what we are good at (and not work to strengthen or improve those areas of weakness)? Surely we are only exacerbating these imbalances by only focusing on our strengths?

Most active pursuits are both external and outcome-centric: how fast can I run, how heavy can I lift, how accurately can I throw the ball? Focus is external, measured in minutes and miles. Breath is a function of the activity, not the focus of it. The intention is the outcome, ultimately it is about “getting it done”. Consistent training will teach our bodies to bring the breath without us needing to think about it too hard.

Now consider the yoga studio mirror, your mat placed in warm anticipation of the gift you are about to give your mind, body and spirit. You welcome patience, acceptance and determination. Eye-to-eye, practice begins (and concludes) with breath, because there is nothing more important. The rhythm of your breath sets the foundation like railway sleepers under the rails of your meditation. There is no life without breath. We start and conclude with Pranayama, each of the postures an “asana”, fueling your cells with nourishing, energy giving oxygen.

“Yoga” means “union” and whilst there are numerous interpretations within this definition, most agree that core to the practice is the union of breath, mind and movement. Is your practice more about exercise (outside in) or meditation (inside out)? Do you start each class with the intention to leave the world outside the studio outside, to give yourself 90 minutes of mindful focus? Or do you (unintentionally) bring your noisy mind to class? The constant chatter of the voice within can be deafening – “man it is hot – why can’t I do this posture  - I had it yesterday – how much longer…” however if you can quiet this noise and focus on your breath, your practice will deepen in ways you may not have imagined. Instead of “doing” yoga, try “being” yoga.

The studio mirrors are provided to assist your understanding of the mechanics involved in each of the postures, however they can become a crutch. Try using them just for focus. If you find judgmental thoughts creeping in, let them go and bring your focus back to your breath, back to the union you are seeking. Put your mind in your muscles, feel them strengthen and lengthen. Think less about the outcome and more about the input. Yoga is the one place where you truly do get a gold star just for your good intention.

From budgie smugglers to mutineers, the Australian Parliament is well hung!

There should have been excitement. There should have been a sense of national pride. Instead there was a forward stance but downward glance as Lady Julia ascended the throne. Looking from the outside in (expat glasses on) I was sad to see the occasion of Australia's first female prime minister marred by the fact that she was not elected by the people, and in fact the mutinous events leading to her ascent seem to have rendered her more impotent, as it is evident that she is just another puppet in the Labor party machine. Too bad again that at this juncture and opportunity for Australia to truly elect their first female PM, the shadow of her Lady MacBeth-esque blood stained hands affected voters - many of whom like-or-loath Rudd seem to feel that the whole process of succession was very un-Australian. Meanwhile, it seems that one of the strongest things the opposition leader Tony Abbott has going for him is that he is a beach lifeguard who proudly sports a classic pair of Aussie Speedos - how Aussie is that?! From my conservative North Shore vantage point it is hard to see why the outcome was not more decisive...

No longer in de-Nile...

So, what can I say after 3 weeks in Egypt? Well, I feel like I have been here a long time. I feel like I have a novice understanding of their culture, and a basic understanding of the history. Both should be stronger than they are, but starting from zero I guess I am significantly further ahead of where I started.

A very male dominated society, I wonder how different my experience would have been had I been accompanied by a significant male? I have loved my time here and made some real friends on the tour, but almost always I felt a little “exposed”. This in spite of dressing “conservatively” and ensuring as much as I could (given that I was traveling alone) that I was not alone in public. I tried to avoid situations such as the one I am in now – sitting alone in the Heineken Bar at Cairo International airport, sipping red wine, typing on my computer (not a book/magazine store in sight…). I previously would never have imagined situating myself near a table of “English lads” in a beer bar would make me feel somewhat less exposed. Funny how your perceptions can change so quickly!

Having said that I have been wonderfully taken care of by the men/tour directors/representatives/ships crew tasked with watching over “the president’s wife”. They were warm and sweet and attentive (without being too attentive) and have left me with some very fond memories of my time here.

Egyptian men are insatiable flirts. With the virility of the ancient pharaohs, it seems every encounter is an opportunity (distant strains of Mark Knoffler, “you and me babe, how bout it?”). “They mean no harm” is the rationale given to explain the intrusive behavior (if you can call being greeted and complimented at every turn intrusive…), and I honestly believe that is true. It is not threatening in a menacing manner, there is just an intensity to the approach that makes you feel uncomfortable (especially as a woman alone, especially after being in Africa where I have seen first hand how the solo animal is an easy target…).

And it is unrelenting, from the aggressive hawkers desperately peddling their wares “Madam where you from? You from English? You very beautiful, madam you buy postcards – special deal for you $5…” to the nightly dinner banter “hello madam, so glad to see you, I have missed you today “(cue dazzling Omar Sharif smile and napkin flourish…). Every encounter is treated as a genuine opportunity for a “sale.”  Customer resistance seems to make the chase more fun.

I would find living in this type of society very challenging. I am accustomed to the freedom and familiarity of western society; to the often gruff and sometimes dismissive service of hospitality and retail staff, working through the hours until they can clock off again. I will be more conscious and grateful of the freedoms that society allows me as a woman, at least for a little while until I start taking it for granted again.

Life is tough for the Egyptians. The climate is tough, the economy is tough, they are graced with perhaps the greatest history on earth, and at the same time with the knowledge that they possessed these treasures, and somehow (through lack of attention and management) let them largely slip through their fingers. Egypt has been conquered and re-conquered through the ages by Romans and Greeks who took much, and left little behind. The Christians left their mark most noticeably by defacing the “pagan” faces of the beautiful temple walls. Less than 20% of modern Egypt is Christian today and I imagine they must be a little ashamed of the destruction their ancestors bought upon these priceless treasures.

One could however take an alternate view, a view that in fact the Egyptians have been blessed with unusual luck. The Nile that is the beloved lifeblood of this country (even today) made the construction of these timeless monuments possible, and protected them through the ages, flooding the surrounding banks and plains, bringing silt and sand to cover the sandstone, granite and limestone. Hiding their beauty from the world, protecting them (to a degree) for a time when man would better understand their value. Their greatest source of revenue is the Suez Canal, followed closely by tourism, world travelers driven by desire to see the Nile, the tombs, temples and pyramids.

Standing at the base of each mammoth column and towering statue, one cannot help but take pause to consider the boundless focus, creativity and craftsmanship invested in each great monument. They say it took 100,000 people to build the Great Pyramid of Giza. What other companies today operate with 100,000 people, and what will their legacy be? The difference in intention is marked. The ancient Egyptians were intent on building something that would last an eternity and would bring glory in the next life. Which companies today think about an outcome beyond the next P&L spreadsheet? What legacy will we leave? Is there any chance for us to create anything other than ultimate destruction of the planet? I would suggest there is sadly not much evidence of it today.

And so perhaps the answer lies in globalization – and by this I mean “one world”. Perhaps there is a chance for human kind to band together. The more we travel the better hope we have of understanding our global friends and enemies. My group of travelers consisted of mostly retired folk who have been blessed with the gift of travel (far beyond anything the ancient Egyptians could have imagined).  Their reactions to Egypt mirrored mine – fulfillment of a life’s intention to “see the great pyramids of Egypt”, coupled with surprise and dismay at the state of modern day Cairo – crowded, polluted, expensive and (at least among our happy band of liberal feminists) “where are the women…?”

I like to think that the modern Egyptian Islamic woman is happy, that she feels loved, protected and fulfilled in her role within society. Unfortunately we were not able to speak with any such women, so I will leave Egypt with only the male’s perspective on the importance of the woman’s role within Egyptian society. It is hard with western eyes not to be angry when you see scarves and masks covering and “hiding” the women. In sweltering 46 degree heat they go about their daily lives, covered in black cloth from head to toe. How can this be a choice? How can this be something they do willingly in belief that it is right? I want to have an open mind, I want to be convinced that it works for them, but even after three weeks in their country, I struggle to fully comprehend how and why this practice continues. I would be interested to learn more in this regard.

My limited understanding of (Sunni) Islam is that it is a disciplined and peaceful religion with very specific guidelines on how to live life humbled by God’s greatness. The rules must be obeyed – and practice covers everything in daily life from eating, to praying 5 times a day. Family is core to this society, with specific rules and roles for men and women to successfully marry and raise their Muslim family. The woman’s role in this sense is integral but traditional. The Koran states that women must protect their modesty from foreign men – this is anyone they are not directly related to such as husband, son, father and brother. There is nothing that states this cover must be from head to toe, or that it must be black. As a minimum this means covering the hair and chest (from neck down) when in the company of “foreign” men.

There has been a resurgence of conservatism amongst Egyptian women over the last decade. During the 60s and 70s their public dress was far more liberal, in keeping with the times. One theory suggested to me is that with so many professional Egyptians traveling elsewhere in the Middle East for better work and pay (ie Arab countries such as Saudi) the men and women are returning with the more conservative values of those cultures, and it has started to infiltrate Egyptian culture. An interesting theory, but with no real facts to back it up.

What I do know is that as Western women, the concept of hiding your beauty so as not to distract the men around you is totally foreign, and the fact that society supports this – that men can be easily distracted by women, so women should hide so as not to distract them - is challenging.

But then this is the beauty of travel, of going to new and foreign places in an effort to better understand our Earth neighbors.   

Ultimately there can be no peace without understanding; and surely Peace, is what we are all wishing, searching and praying for.

(please note the above ramblings are not intended as controversial political, cultural or religious statements, but instead the simple observations and impressions of this lone traveler...)