DREAMING UP ANGER

In the day I seek the light and shun any fears or darker parts of myself aside. I become a great actress with my lines memorized for each and every situation I will encounter that day. It’s how I have learnt to survive in this world.

But at night I enter the darkness and I travel with my dreams into the realms of fear, truth and the many different facets that make me up as a women. 

Last night I dreamt that I moved into a home high up on a hill in the country. The grass was all dried up and the colour of wheat. The air was heavy with humidity. Everything seemed so still. I stood at the doorway of my cottage and peered through the waves of heat at a path that cascaded down the hill. Two people began to approach. As they got closer I could see it was my ex husband and a women who has hurt me in waking life immensely. Even now I still feel the daggers she has left in my back. I was wearing a pretty white dress with a red and white polka dot apron over the top. My hair was out and although I looked soft and feminine a staunch power was surrounding me. My ex-husband stopped and lent on a rock, lit up a cigarette, tilted his head and with a jerk of it he ushered for the woman to approach me. I narrowed my eyes and kissed my teeth. There was no way I was going to let her anywhere near my home. I then realized I was holding a large stick that was carved with all sorts of traditional  Maori patterns. My knuckles began to turn white with the grip I had around it. I stepped through the doorway and in a large, strong and commanding voice I bellowed, “Get off my WHENUA!” (Whenua is the Maori word for land and also placenta.) I said this over and over again but still she walked closer to me, smiling with a smugness that boiled my blood and made me stand even taller and command even stronger for her to leave my land. We came nose to nose, woman to woman and stared each other down. “LEAVE.” I said, with such ferocity that she backed up. Though she still smiled that smug smile. I turned to my right and looked over at my huge black dog that had been watching this all play out. I gave him a look that said “Get rid of her”. He slowly got up and began to snarl and growl. He walked like he was stalking her, ready to kill. She was backing down the hill now, though still reluctantly. My dog and I both barred our teeth and with a deafening bark from him and one last, “Get off my Whenua!!” from me. The woman finally disappeared.

So much self-doubt and confusion has been swirling around me but dreams like this let me know I’m travelling in the dark to seek the darkness in spite of my fears. My miraculous mind is giving me stories of the strong woman within, the angry woman within, the protector woman within and how to mend my heart in waking life using these puzzle pieces that make me up.

Our messages in our dreams are medicinal antidotes to those bigger emotions we seem to suppress such as anger. I find it hard to let the fire of anger burn in the way it needs to and to slowly snuff it out with patience and love. Instead I suppress it and let it burn in a place inside that allows its flames to lick the compassion and empathy right out of me. This is why my dream time is so important. Especially as a mother with very little time in the day to get quiet with myself, I wait until the moon is high and in front and behind my eyelids is darkness. It is then all masks are taken off and my script is left behind.  It is then I slip into the work of spirit.

A x

MOTHERLY WISDOM - WEANING

Milkies out of a cup - Bye bye boobies!

Today I decided to wean my youngest, Louie. After thinking long and hard about this descion and seeking advice, it suddenly feels right. But also a tiny bit sad too. We have been been bossom buddies for 21 months now. He has curled up in the crook of my arm and nestled into the soft warmth of my milky vessels and nursed contentley to sleep, in times of thirst, after scraped knees, in times of insecurity and for sheer comfort. I would relish in the quiet time of this nurturing practice and the pulse of feel good hormones that would flood my body each time. I feel very very blessed to have had a breastfeeding relationship as it's something I personally had always wanted when dreaming up my life as mother. 

Mamas boy for life

Like all things in life, change is inevitable and holding on tight with resistant white knuckles will only cause pain. My life changed when I got sick. Lack of sleep and breastfeeding a toddler while running after his older sibling is hard enough as it is without the added stress of a depleted body. And that is the crux of why I have decided to wean. I am depleted. With no reserves to cling onto when I'm unwell and the broken sleep night after night was not serving me, him or my family anymore. It is still hard though.. I feel that sense of loss and my little boy being one step closer to his independence. Snipping at those apron strings takes a great deal of strength and compassion for yourself. Motherhood requires a lot of sincere compassion as it's a constant rhythm of pulling in and letting go. Inhales and exhales. Breathing in your child's distinct sweet aroma that only a mother knows and breathing out as they run full force down the grassy hills. Breathing in kisses on rose bud lips and breathing out their first day of school. We pull them in, we let them go. It's as natural as the moon sweeping in and pushing out the tides. Surrender. 

One cute bottom doing some water play

Change. It's a good thing. And in the end we must question if we are truly holding onto something for the good of the child or for our own benefits or fears. I feared disconnection from my son as we moved away from our breastfeeding relationship but what I got was a happy little boy who has found great joy in his new found curiosity away from mamas milk. And we now have endless cuddles and new ways to show our love for each other. Our bond is stronger because I chose to look after me and to trust my body. I see that as a gift to my children, to show them respect for oneself and stepping out of my own selfish needs to nurture the entire family.

Astrid xx

SPEAKING YOUR TRUTH

 

                                       

Its a dream. This life. Its all a dream. I feel that more and more now. Sometimes I catch myself speaking and I don't even believe what I'm saying. I'm merely regurgitating someone elses opinion, or a value of societies or a fear of the cultural climate I was born into. I know when its truly me speaking. The authentic self as one might say. I know its me because I feel something stir inside of me and I can see more clearly. My mask as been stripped away for a moment and I am just me, connecting with you. The fogginess has gone and I feel the words I speak penetrate into the air around me and send ripples of wind to the person who needs that spoken word the most.

I strongly feel we should be questioning what we do, why we do it and what we say on a more regular basis. How often do we take the time to be still and just let precious truths rise to the surface like champagne bubbles, ready to intoxicate us with a much greater joy than the useless spilling of pretend opinions. We want to please, we want to be liked, we want to live up to expectations that come from someone elses need to control. I want to let you in on a little secret... you will never please everyone, you will not be liked by everyone and the only expectation you will ever meet is the law of this life and that is that sometimes it is wonderful and sometimes it is very difficult. Try to imagine everyone as big heavy dusty unfinished novels. Each one filled with chapters of heartbreak, dissapointments, euphoria, conditioning and experiences very different to yours. We judge others by only reading into the chapter they are showing. We forget there are so many words before that make up this being. So many words that perhaps we will never understand. It is not our job to. All we can do is be still and listen. It's all apart of the dream. We can only imagine and dream what treasures and poison this novel beholds by staring at its hard cover.

I, like you, get so caught up with the fucked up systems of this world and the lost who puppet us all into acting out their scene. They are some of the worlds most powerful yet to me the most dazed and confused. By speaking our truths we unearth our own artists easel and begin to paint a life that is bursting with our own unique strokes and colors. Then we step back and see that by listening to our inner voice a portrait of love, forgiveness and freedom has been created.

Channel your inner truth:

• Pray. Pray for clarity and truth.
• Practice active listening instead of reactive listening where you just want to say your piece without really absorbing what someone is saying.
• Question everything you do in life from when you open those beautiful gifts called eyes till you close them at night. Are you living by default or with meaning?
• Aknowledge your reality fully and honestly. This way we let go of assumptions and tone down any dramatic scenarios we make up in our mind.
• Listen to your gut. Mama was spitting some truth when she told you this one. If you feel something on a deep level then that is your truth.
• Reflect on your health. If you don't start voicing your truth or living it, your body will have a hard time keeping up with the lies. Lies are like poison to the body. 
• Just be still. For one moment everyday, close your eyes and just allow the wisdom to float up. Don't be scared, love, you're merely a lotus in the muddy pond water awaiting to rise and show the full expression of your beauty. 

Astrid xx

REVENGE ON THE BOA

“Look at me. Look at my saggy tits full of stretch marks and scars. Ohhhh yea! Do you see them? LOOK!”  These were some of the first words I uttered in my introduction to Burlesque and Body Self-Confidence class. Staring into the eyes of a complete stranger I had to work my way up my body telling them to stare at all the parts I loved and all the parts I hated. My bony feet that have taken me everywhere I need to go in life, my mother’sknobby knees, my incredible thighs, my hips that had expanded to house children, my milk filled and overworked breasts, my slender neck and my face. A face I have admittedly stared into a mirror and spat how much I hated it. But here I was, commanding this stranger to look at me for all I am, flawed andimperfect and utterly ‘fabulous’.

Hold on, weren’t we supposed to be gyrating a chair in some slutty underwear whilst lip syncing some cliché Beyoncé song?Licking our lips and undoing all the hard work of our feminist sisters. Wasn’t I just here to spice up my sex life a little? As it had become about as interesting as a mommy and me group.According to our teacher, Cat, in her swirled British-American accent, “absolutely fucking not”. This workshop was not about pretending to be the epitome of what society thinks women should be, it was about creating a performance that brought out you or an aspect of you that had been locked away in societies little box of taboo.

And so the five week burlesque workshop journey began with my troupe. We were all there for different reasons but I think we all shared the same lust to embody our powerful and divinely beautiful feminine side. For me, I wanted to unlock my inner goddess who had been handcuffed by bad relationships, bosses who had berated me, women who had bullied me, people’s expectations which I’d failed to meet and a huge lack of self-worth. I also wanted to express a side of me that was lost when I became mother. My body is now shared, tugged and constantly sought after for comfort and protection. I wanted to feel like for a moment my body was my own again and I wanted to get back in touch with my sexuality.

It wasn’t easy coming up with poses and a whole routine. It turns out there is a lot more to commanding your presence on the stage than I had expected. And then I got my awkward little hands on a midnight black feather boa. It became an extension of myself and an integral part of my act as it was to be used to seek revenge on all those who had wronged me. I got to pour out all of my unforgiving thoughts and emotions into a sequence of sultry and powerful movements with that boa, that demanded therespect and presence of the space and energy in which I was creating. Sometimes it feels better than good to stop working at forgiving and to just do something that says fuck you, here I am and I’m taking my power back.

While I’m a long way off a dazzling polished performance or stripping down to nipple tassels, I catch myself now being able to look at people in the eye when they speak to me. My initial thoughts when I meet someone are no longer “they aren’t going to like me. I’m too weird, I’m too quiet, I’m too skinny and I’m not interesting enough. Save your dignity Astrid and walk away now!”. Unapologetic for who I am and what I have to offer to the world is the skin I now reside in. It has also been a gift to see the other woman in my class express and evolve a part of themselves that has been itching to get out. I went to this workshop as I was always intrigued by the Burlesque world but never did I think it would have such a profound impact on my self-confidence. So look at me. I am a fearless and beautiful goddess and I’M FABULOUS!

Astrid xx