All posts tagged: Women

My 2 top alternatives to avoid Valentine’s Day pressure

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Make no mistake, I love Love. Whether happily single, sadly recovering from a break-up, or delighting in new fields of play, I have never given up on Love for long. I believe this is healthy, that I am a healthy human, and that we all deserve love. However, what I absolutely don’t need is a dumb card and cheap chocolates. Or even a smart card and expensive chocolates. So if any human out there felt a little blue they had no Valentine, or was let down by an unsatisfactory experience, let me inspire you: why not organize a Galentine’s Day, or a V-Day flash mob? What are these 2 curious offerings you wonder? My favourite Australian feminist writer Clementine Ford drew me to the first one, when she recently offered a picnic in the park experience for 100 women, bringing gals together. It’s been around for a decade or so, and is about celebrating female sister-like connections; it’s so easy to let friendships slip by when we’re busy with work/kids/household chores/ageing parents etc. But who …

Here’s Part Two of shortlisted story ‘Earth’

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But did you miss Part One?? Don’t do that! It’s HERE Part Two: … Then Sam stopped, hands on hips, and squinted into the distance. ‘Shit, I don’t think we can get through along here after all. Let me look at the map and compass again.’ She frowned at the contour lines on the creased page, telling her a story of steep cliffs and gullies, without revealing the safest route. ‘Sorry honey, but the only way we’ll get past that massive overhang is to tackle the stone country along the top of the ridge. It’s a bit like a jigsaw puzzle up there, which you can never solve. Brace yourself.’ Kelly clenched her jaw for a second. ‘I never knew off-track walking was quite this tough,’ she admitted. ‘Especially for old ladies like us.’ Sam smiled at the familiar joke, but her forehead worried, as they tightened waist straps and headed away from the water without looking back. Within thirty minutes, thighs screamed with lactic acid as they scrambled over boulders and fallen tree branches, …

“How much time have I got left?” Part Two

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Deep in my essential core, I’m a dancer. I may be 52 now, and not quite as nimble as I used to be, but I still go to Swing Dance once a month, and my beloved 5Rhythms every week. Not to mention the regular groovy late-afternoon outdoor queer dance parties I sometimes see my son at. At age 28, living in Newtown, Sydney, and dancing at techno raves all weekend, I began to wonder if I could make a living with movement somehow… which led me to an extraordinary teacher, Janis Claxton. Her free, wild, & fiery moves still live in my body, while her feisty attitude found a match in mine, inspiring me to pursue performing/Clown/dance & Improvisation (which all still rock my creative world). Last week she died of lung cancer, aged 53.  At the Women’s Buddhist Dharma Day Part One last Sunday, facilitator Carol Perry asked us to reflect on the question I’ve titled this post with; of course, none of us know the answer, and therein lies one of the causes of …

“Let your body be a soft & steady place for emotions to land.” Part One

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I just spent 9.30-3pm Sunday in a yurt at a Women’s Buddhist Dharma Day. What does that actually mean G? Well, it meant I got up at 6.30 to cook a spinach pie for the shared lunch, drove there too fast because I left a bit late and didn’t know where I was going, was the second last one to bumble into the serious silent sitting circle of women, and then spent hours listening to a wise elder speak about Ageing as we meditated together. It was a great day, and such a huge gift to myself. The day’s facilitator Carol Perry also taught at that Eco Village/Permaculture Week Intensive I did- remember that? I love her. And guess what? Because I’d almost arrived late, I got to sit next to her in the circle- I began soaking up her wisdom vibes like a thirsty sponge, hoping she wouldn’t notice the intense draining. Last time I heard her give a presentation, she said this, which almost brought half the room to tears: “My first Invitation to …

“Women are going to run the world within 5 years,” she said. Who am I to argue? Amplify Her.

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  Remember the 5Rhythms dance weekend I went to at the start of May? Two of the other participants were women just turning 30; during a pairs’ exercise with one of them, I expressed my fury at the state of our world, and the dumb old white men who were still in charge and ruining it for all of us, especially the children (obviously I’m not always a light-hearted workshop participant with cold ears). She just fixed me with a look of complete clarity and certainty, then gave me the title for this blog post. I stared back at her, faced with the pure strength of her vision, and the commitment to back it up: she was just offered a PhD scholarship on international health issues for women, and recently returned from a year in Cambodia, working with child sex trafficking agencies. I saw myself in her mirror: an over-50s proud Feminist yes, but a jaded idealist, getting tired and cynical now as the world totters closer to environmental disaster… with Trump pushing the Doomsday …

New chapter means new hairdo, yes?

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Proudly, my hair is salt ‘n’ pepper. Probably more salt now actually. And I love it. After many years of keeping it short, a couple of years ago, I grew it into a slightly messy bob, and discovered that silver hair often has a bit of a wave or curl to it… But as I launch myself into a new phase of online dating, I’ve decided it’s time for a new look. Now YOU, my dear readers, have followed me through so much: celebrated the one year anniversary, mourned and commiserated through the break up, cheered me as I came out the other side, and positively encouraged me to move forward into the next life chapter. So it’s entirely fitting you help me with this bit too! I asked ’17’ what sort of chop I should get, but this was his brutal honest response: “Mum, I’ve got better things to do than look at pictures of old ladies’ hair cuts.” Fair enough. But YOU, dear reader, surely you can give me a minute? Do you …

Happy International Women’s Day, hell yeah!

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Happy International Women’s Day. From the African woman who goes without food so her child can eat; from the Syrian refugee who puts her baby on a boat to a better life; from the lawyer or politician who advocates for equal rights; from the stay-at-home Mum gaining pleasure from the school run; from the wheel-chair user; from the butch/tomboy lesbian who wants no kids but to fix cars instead; from the Artist, the sex worker, the cleaner, the chef, the corporate Queen, the cashier: WOMEN ARE AMAZING. Happy International Women’s Day, and won’t it be a great fucken day when we no longer have to have this day, because we have Equality? I honour and celebrate EVERY WOMAN EVERY WHERE DOING WHATEVER SHE WANTS/NEEDS TO BE HERSELF, TO SURVIVE AND HOPEFULLY THRIVE, and to my dear old Mum, my first experience of Woman, who absolutely taught me to be a Feminist, first and foremost. I truly think that’s her greatest gift to me, and I have passed it on to my son, which I believe …

World Wednesday/Re-blog Thursday: ‘The Goddess’

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Originally posted on Empty Nest, Full Life:
I grew up as a good Catholic girl. In my world, God was man. He was a tall white man with a light brown beard and a white robe. God was male. But I’m not a little girl anymore. Now I am a mother. I saw my own body grow and stretch and bend itself to give life to my three children. That made me wonder if perhaps the true deity was a woman. I have been lucky enough to watch my daughter become a mother.  I watched her body grow and stretch and bend itself to give life to my grandchildren.  That made me suspect that I was right is seeing the true deity as a woman. Today I helped my 87 year old mother as she took a shower, washed her hair, got dressed and settled herself into her favorite chair to rest after those efforts. It wasn’t easy for Mom. She was embarrassed to realize that she needed me to do something as simple as…

Episode 8: Best thirty bucks I ever spent

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Last night I went out for dinner with 9 creative and vibrant women aged 40-50. There was much talk of art, young children, partners, teenagers, social media, Feminism, sex, hair colour, food, fitness etc; I hope you can picture it. I arrived late, and ended up sitting at one head of the table, between two women I didn’t know, P & S. Slowly our conversations delved deeper, like cats burrowing under the quilt in winter. Do you reveal yourself easily, like P, red-stained teeth, bolstered by her 3rd glass of wine? Or with deliberate care like a tightrope walker, which S actually used to be in her 20s? I’m probably a mix of the two (always without the wine though), and as we chatted about kids and dads, relationships and dating, I said something about ‘…my current tomboy girlfriend in Melbourne’. I noticed the split second of surprise and/or understanding flash across their faces, then we continued talking. P admitted she was currently dating 2 men at once. ‘Go girl!’ I said. S agreed; no …

The Weyward Sisters: Back to Black/ Collaborative Amy Winehouse Tribute

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Originally posted on Sudden Denouement Collective:
Rana Kelly/2nd star to the Left, straight on ’til morning Oh, Amy Whenever I go walking In my stilettos, I hear you talking. Dream me up a way Of swishing my hips And pursing my lips And singing your riffs So that I find beauty Like you. lois e. linkens she puts her black dress on in the dark, anxious nails red and messy in their early-morning artistry. he left the candle burning in the winter window – vanilla and cinnamon on a Sunday evening, tears and vodka on a Monday morning. last week’s relief breathes into tonight’s regrets, but the shadowy smear on the glass is all that is left of him. Aakriti Kuntal/Writings of Aakriti Kuntal Rummaging through black air, nauseous red nails bearing oily seas Suffocating existence with conversations, conversations with glittering nail cutters, cracked moons laughing hysterically in them Conversations of fallen boyfriends, of fallen love Fallen being the new being Aurora Phoenix/Insight From Inside She scrawls lines up the back of her fishnet stockings wiggly-lined intoxicated rebellion strutting down memory…