People watching, Chapter 3

Tags

dead eyes, disillusionment, Fear, Frozen hearts, glitter, marble foyers, People watching, Poem, Poetry, purple, suits, tram tracks

Vanilla flavoured suits disguising

Poorly hidden madness

Trying on blank slate faces

Pinstripes like disillusionment

Nothing reveals the sadness

Like dead eyes above

Tastefully expensive ties

No hair product, no lipstick

To conceal this blemish

Tension leads to numbness when

It can’t be understood

Searching finds a pint or two

And fear buys the next round

So I try to breathe compassion

And openness and love

But I’m only half awake and

Never sure which half

Asleep enough to empathise

Awake enough to care

Let’s colour your pinstripes purple

Sprinkle glitter in your hair

And look to where sun and sea

Sing pretty rhythms within

Bringing life to marble foyers

Clackety-clack tram tracks and

A skip in your step because

You know, oh you really do

~Svasti

Where to next?

Tags

Asana Pranayama Mudra Bandha, C’est la vie, Jobless, Liberated, People watching, Plans, St Kilda, The Espy, Unemployed, Yoga

So, a funny thing happened on Friday, the day after my song haunting happened again…

I lost my job.

My (now former) employers told me at the very end of the day. But that little voice I’ve mentioned here a few times, it told me all day that something was up, even though I didn’t have any reason to suspect it.

It came down to money. They were hoping to be in a position to grow the company, but given the current economic climate and whatever other factors… they haven’t been able to make the sales they need. I blame the recession.

And so, my role has been terminated. They’ve given me one week’s notice (they actually owe me two, and I’m looking into that), and I have some accrued holidays.

They also gave me the option to take the notice period in lieu, and guess what? I decided that’s a good idea.

And that actually allows me to go hang out at the hospital tomorrow and meet my brand new niece (after she’s born via scheduled c-section).

Have to say though, that before the shock and freak out started to kick in, the very first reaction I had was relief.

I haven’t said much about it here, but it’s been a pretty stressful job, which hasn’t been so great given all the recent emotional upheavals I’ve been dealing with… it is a particularly disorganised place to work, and my bosses were not very supportive at all.

So in the last month I’d been looking around for a new job, as I wasn’t planning to stay anyway… it’s just always nicer when you don’t lose your old job before you get the next!

Financially I’m okay for a little while. Looks like my little tax refund bonus is gonna be used for living expenses til there’s more moolah rolling in. C’est la vie…

But I have plans, plenty of them. In fact, just after I was given the news, I stayed behind at the coffee shop and wrote out a huge ‘to do’ list. Everything from the basics like updating my résumé, getting in touch with my recruitment contacts, spreading the word to friends in the industry… to finally pulling a finger out and creating a professional résumé website (a good thing to have in my industry) and doing a letter drop in the local area, offering all kinds of computer help, setting up websites/blogs, a little design work, and help with writing resumes and website content.

And… I might just need to consider getting a flatmate. Will see how things pan out.

Next thing I did was go take my bike to the bike shop for a service and to get the seat put back on!

Then, back to the office for the last time. Cleaned my work computer of all personal files, handed in my phone and keys and left. Texted a bunch of friends, spoke to a couple of them as well… one of whom insisted that I go out and not mope around at home that night (saved that for last night instead!).

Went to a very well known live music establishment – The Espy in St Kilda – had a few drinks, listened to some pub bands (music got better as the night rolled on, or was that the beer and shots I drank?). Sat in a comfy corner for a while, people watching, (trying not to make eye contact more than once with sleazy men) and did a bunch of writing.

So… as a result there’s heaps of raw material to draw on for my blog. Actually yesterday’s post was the first carved from pages of long-hand notes scribbled in my strange loopy and angular handwriting.

Saturday, had an orientation session at my new yoga school (I’m confident I’ll have the money to keep paying monthly instalments for my course) – which was a very positive thing to do… some asana, talking about the course, meeting teachers and fellow students, looking at the text books we’ll be using (some of which I already own – like Asana Pranayama Mudra Bandha) and discovering that part of the tuition fee includes all the books, plus a yoga mat and props, a neti pot and tongue scraper – can never have too much yoga gear so that was exciting. And everyone is lovely, so I’m thrilled.

When that was done, instead of jumping straight on the train home, I wandered up the street, up up up up… in and out of a few shops and simply enjoying the  embrace of sunshine and warmth. Walked all the way to the next train station, right down by the bay actually.

Today, I’m starting to feel the other side of things, a little less positive, a little more like – wow, I lost my job! A little angry. But I still know it’s gonna work out just fine.

And I’m picking up a hire car so I can drive to the hospital tomorrow for the birth of my sister’s new baby – my second niece! My friend L and I are having a late lunch, too.

Then, seriously, I’ve got heaps to do. Writing posts, updating and sending résumés, getting my professional website up and running and creating flyers to offer my professional services.

I’m kinda pleased though, how well I’m doing with this sudden change. I actually feel liberated instead of overly stressed out. Free, not victimised. Excited about new possibilities.

And, as I said in my last post, there’s no such thing as an ending, really… just other directions to travel, other paths to explore…

~Svasti

People watching, Chapter 2

Tags

Bali, Bali Bombers, Bigotry, Compassion, Death penality, Execution, Minority groups, People watching, Prayers, Racism, Xenophobia

So… several weeks ago I get in a cab when the bus system’s let me down once again. That’ll be a $20 trip thanks very much!

I tell the very dark-skinned, heavily accented Indian driver where I’m going.

Seriously and without a trace of irony he says: Oh that’s a very dangerous part of town, there are a lot of black people there!

Really, I say looking him squarely in his deep brown eyes, I don’t see that as a problem.

He looks surprised, waits a beat, then asks me where my husband is. What husband, I say. He starts flirting with me.

*****

Today I jump on the train. The first seat I sit in is opposite a scruffy looking man, who looks terribly excited that I’m about to sit next to him. A nanosecond of deliberation later and I decide to sit there anyway. That’s until I realise I’m surrounded by a reasonable collection of half-empty food containers he’s sprawled everywhere. Sorry mate…

Looking for an empty seat I move to the next carriage. My brief but peaceful reverie is interrupted as I listen to a deaf man abusing an impeccably dressed Sikh. Apparently he was ‘looking at him funny’ – who knows if that’s the case? The deaf man mumbles his enraged insults whilst the Sikh silently watches, waiting for his tormentor to get off the train.

*****

Don’t you love it when a member of one minority group gives hell to another?

At what point does xenophobia become dangerous?

*****

Speaking of minority groups, around 200 people (80-odd Australians) were killed and around 200 injured in the 2002 Bali Bombings. Five years later, and I am sickened all over again when the perpetually unrepentant bombers are executed.

Australians have reacted with typically mixed emotions – some celebrated, others think it makes no difference. No one can judge the reactions of another. There have been suggestions that somehow the deaths of the bombers will be a deterrent to others considering similar heinous acts. Um… tell that to a suicide bomber already.

Perhaps its controversial, but I’m opposed to the death penalty no matter who we’re killing…

My heart bled and still bleeds for all those who were killed and injured in that horrible event. I feel the pain of the beautiful Balinese people, as they had kin who were taken and have suffered financially for many years from the resulting downturn in tourism. And my heart bleeds also for those who planned this act of hatred against other human beings.

And so when I learned the news of their deaths, I prayed.

• For those taken, for those left behind. Those who have suffered from this incident. For them I wish for closure and healing.
• For the families of the bombers, may they not feel the need to seek revenge.
• And for the executed men, that their energy bodies are purified in the after-death state. That they finally understand they are no different from those they have killed. That they release hatred and fear. And that they take a better re-birth, free from the samskaras that plauged them in this lifetime.

Om Tryambakam Yajamahe
Sugandhim Pushtivardhanam
Urvarukamiva Bandhanan
Mrityor Mukshiya Maamritat
Om Shanti, Shanti, Shanti

(We Meditate on the Three-eyed reality
Which permeates and nourishes all like a fragrance
May we be liberated from death for the sake of immortality
Even as the cucumber is severed from bondage to the creeper
Om, Peace, Peace, Peace)
~Mahamrityunjaya Mantra

~Svasti

People watching, Chapter 1

Tags

Children, Deafness, People watching, Public transport

Trains, trams and buses. And the people. Oh my!

When I left my job in July, I also gave up my shiny new novated lease company car. And my folks’ place, where I’m staying, is a million miles from civilisation. Okay, that might be a slight exaggeration… But I’ve affectionately dubbed it: “Suburbia-urbia-urbia”. It is far from my idea of what it means to live in Melbourne.

Its Spring here and the middle of the days are starting to be sunshine-y and pretty, putting a little strut in my walk. But the mornings and evenings are cold, and it’s still getting dark pretty early.

As I schlepped my achy infected ear from the train to the bus stop in chilly darkness, I needed a seat. At first, I was a little annoyed by a woman with two kids who’d parked a pram with one child in it in front of the available seats. I squeezed into a seat anyway. The little blonde boy was perhaps three years old with an angelic smile. The blonde girl in head-to-toe pink prancing around like a monkey was older, maybe five or six.

My initial impression of this mother with two kids was that she was foreign. She seemed to be speaking a language I couldn’t pick up. With my one good ear, I heard shrill yips erupt from her mouth – kind of like a cross between a yodel and a shriek, very unusual.

She was dressed a little oddly too, in an old-fashioned pale purple velvet jacket. Her hair looked dishevelled and her daughter’s was half in pigtails and half pulled out. The little boy was dressed warmly enough but I obnoxiously thought to myself – he could do with a hat and a blanket.

The children were energetic but didn’t say that much. Instead there were many facial expressions along with the mother’s unusual vocals. Then I noticed subtle hand movements between mother and daughter – the mother was deaf!

The bus lumbered in a few meters ahead of the stop. The little girl raced ahead of her mum and I took it upon myself to keep an eye on her whilst her mum manoeuvred the pram and settled on the bus.

In this time, the girl had climbed on a seat and grabbed hold of two hanging rings, swinging from them like play equipment. Several sharp trills erupted from her mum, with extensive body language ordering her to get down immediately!

The young girl seemed to relish the fact that her mother couldn’t control her as easily as she might if she wasn’t deaf. The child already knew she had freer reign and she took advantage of it. As her mother was getting the pram and the young boy on the bus, quick as a flash she vanished into the seats behind me.

Several yips and yodels later, the little girl was still hiding from her mum, causing her to leave the son where he was in his pram and physically grab her older child. I kept my eye on the boy whilst she retrieved her daughter who was crying about the unfairness of her life.

The mother had to use a certain level of physical force to show her daughter she meant business and keep her in her seat. Meanwhile, the young boy had started to cry a little, and only when he became a little desperate did he verbalise his cry: “Mummy”. Not that she heard him.

And I thought.

About words. Communication. How much we rely on them. Even if we mostly get each other wrong, hopelessly misunderstanding what others are saying to us… the words give us connection and comfort. The illusion we all see the world in the same way.

This woman had not one but two kids in a world she could only partially relate to. Her children before the age of ten could easily play tricks on her and make being a mother more trying than normal. It was clear that she loves her kids and that she disciplined them to the best of her ability.

Her daughter whilst still young not only knew sign language, but bore the knowledge her mother wasn’t “normal”. She was aware of those who would stare at the unusual sounds her mother made and although she didn’t seem to be embarrassed, she definitely took advantage of her mother in good natured rebellion.

This woman was so brave, I mused. She relies on Grace and the kindness of strangers whilst she does her best to bring up her kids the best way she knows how. One day, her children will know more than she ever will. But it hasn’t stopped her from doing what she can.

I silently saluted her as she went about her daily business.

~Svasti