There is something magical about this picture. I found it online, and I don’t yet know where this photo was taken. Where is this garden? When I find out, I’ll change this post to reflect that.
Keys from a computer keyboard, and they look like gravestones.
This reminds me of the scene in “Iris” when the aging writer Iris Murdoch is on a beach in England with far more stones than sand.
She wants to write, but she can’t remember the words anymore. Or perhaps she can’t remember the letters. So she takes pages from her notebook and puts them on the rocks, holding them down with other rocks. She points joyfully to them and says that is her writing. Her caregiver is distraught at how lost she is.
Yet she wasn’t lost. I understand this completely. This is writing. Trying to hold down thoughts. Trying to capture the uncapture-able. Pinning down butterflies kills them, after all. They are no longer butterflies when you try to define them, to draw them. Ideas are the same.
This image above speaks to that. What is writing, but memorializing what was? The thought has changed now, evolved.
We’ve slowly developed a culture that tells women that they deserve to drink – that it is a sign of being a mature woman. This is simply another way of getting us to be submissive and docile. A drunk woman doesn’t stand up when she’s being pushed around. She just goes and refills her glass.
Just because alcohol is legal doesn’t make it safe. It may be culturally acceptable to have a drink but that doesn’t mean that regularly doing so is good for our well-being.
When I finally decided to stop smoking pot, I learned I was a very angry person. I had a lot of learning to do – learning that I stopped doing when I started smoking to “enjoy” life. I had to learn how to stand up for myself and set boundaries and decide how I wanted to live my life on my terms. I’d been covering up my pain with pot all those years.
Now that drinking is something that our culture says adult women do, we need to step back and examine the repercussions. If more women drink, then more women will accept that the way things are is the way things should be. We will become numb to our own pain, rather than working to change it.
Now more than ever is a time to be awake. Being conscious and involved in life isn’t easy, but sleeping through it is wasteful and sad.