Sonia Killik's Blog, page 5
February 8, 2016
‘Mother’ is enough.
I ran into an old acquaintance who happens to be a CEO of a large company the other day. After she asked me what I was doing with my life I replied proudly and happily with “I stay home with my little girls”
To which she said: “Oh? That’s crazy! I always thought you could do so much more.”
Now I know she didn’t mean to sound so demeaning. She probably thought she was paying me a compliment. Bless.
I get variants of this same response all the time…
Gees, I couldn’t do that, I would be so bored.
What do you do with all that free time?
Aren’t you lucky, you don’t have to work!
That last one always makes me laugh.
I just don’t know why mothering isn’t enough? So diminished the role that I’m not taken seriously by my working peers or even worse, I am pitied! To some people I’m seen as a second rate citizen, incapable of having a relevant opinion on life matters.
Yes I could have been something else. A doctor, a teacher, a fucking astronaut, but I’m not. I’m a full time mother and that is also a cool, rewarding and difficult job. Being a mother at home is my job. The job I have chosen. I see raising my own children as one of the most important jobs on the planet.
It’s hard! It’s all consuming at times and there are very few breaks. Children, especially when there are more than one in the family, are exhausting! I am accountable for how they develop, interact, speak, turn out. I can’t blame teachers, the nanny, peers or tv. I am 100% dedicated to my job.
I can feel your eyes rolling. “Yes, yes the stay at home mom works hard, we know! Bla bla.”
That’s not the point, the point is that I’m a stay at home mom and that doesn’t make you smarter than me, better than me, more fulfilled than me or anything more than me. I am just as important as you are. My job is as important as yours.
It’s not the only way to be a good parent and I admire people who manage a career and motherhood. That is just not how I choose to do it and that too is admirable. My job as Mother is enough for me.
So next time you look down at me or dismiss my thoughts on a topic or mention that you always thought that I could have been ‘more’ … remember, I can read, form opinions, follow politics and I am forever learning!
Also remember, people judge us by our parents all the time. How you turned out is usually a direct result of how you were raised. Just as we judge the parents on how their children behave in the playground.
I still hear my mothers voice in my head all the time: “Think, before you speak.”
‘Mother’ is enough
I ran into an old acquaintance who happens to be a CEO of a large company the other day. After she asked me what I was doing with my life I replied proudly and happily with “I stay home with my little girls”
To which she said: “Oh? That’s crazy! I always thought you could do so much more.”
Now I know she didn’t mean to sound so demeaning. She probably thought she was paying me a compliment. Bless.
I get variants of this same response all the time…
Gees, I couldn’t do that, I would be so bored.
What do you do with all that free time?
Aren’t you lucky, you don’t have to work!
That last one always makes me laugh.
I just don’t know why mothering isn’t enough? So diminished is the role that I’m not taken seriously by my working peers or even worse, I am pitied! To some people I’m seen as a second rate citizen, incapable of having a relevant opinion on life matters.
Yes I could have been something else. A doctor, a teacher, a fucking astronaut, but I’m not. I’m a full time mother and that is also a cool, rewarding and difficult job. Being a mother at home is my job. The job I have chosen. I see raising my own children as one of the most important jobs on the planet.
It’s hard! It’s all consuming at times and there are very few breaks. Children, especially when there is more than one in the family, are exhausting! I am completely accountable for how they develop, interact, speak, turn out. I can’t blame teachers, the nanny, peers or tv. I am 100% dedicated to my job.
I can feel your eyes rolling. “Yes, yes the stay at home mom works hard, we know! Bla bla.”
That’s not the point, the point is that I’m a stay at home mom and that doesn’t make you smarter than me, better than me, more fulfilled than me or anything more than me. I am just as important as you are. My job is as important as yours.
It’s not the only way to be a good parent and I admire people who manage a career and motherhood. That is just not how I choose to do it and that too is admirable. My job as Mother is enough for me.
So next time you look down at me or dismiss my thoughts on a topic or mention that you always thought that I could have been ‘more’ … remember, I can read, form opinions, follow politics and I am forever learning!
Also remember, people judge us by our parents all the time. How you turned out is usually a direct result of how you were raised. Just as we judge the parents on how their children behave in the playground.
I still hear my mothers voice in my head all the time: “Think, before you speak.”
February 5, 2016
Staying Sane and Married
I love my husband. Not only that I adore and respect him. He is my best friend and the only person in my life who I can truly rely on. I miss him the second he leaves my side.
So why couldn’t I wait for him to leave for work this Monday morning? He will be gone until Friday – this usually fills me with sadness.
Not today.
I have reached my “mommy limit” and occasionally that means my “wife limit” too.
I have nothing left to give.
Husbands can be just as demanding as children. They want your undivided and loving attention whenever you are together. This is fair enough, after all its what I signed up for. He gives it to me all the time without exception. So I wish I could do the same for him every day for ever and ever, but I just can’t.
I need solitude occasionally. I need to recharge my batteries. To fill my “patience wells” and gather the thousands of unfinished thoughts and ideas that have been routinely interrupted by our two small children, dog, house guests and general life clatter.
I need sleep. I need exercise. I need a fucking routine.
We have had a busy festive period which only simmered down at the end of January. Both of us are totally depleted energetically and emotionally. Our patience with one another and any family members is at an all time low. We have totally over-indulged, over spent and under slept. Constantly entertained and tour guided groups of people for 3 months. This is the joy of living in the Cape. We are DONE.
He has left now and all I want to do is run down the road in my pajamas yelling ‘come back!’ while throwing my slippers at his car. The pain I feel in my chest is from the aching gap between us. It’s filled with snaps, mean words and silly arguments over nothing. There were too few cuddles on the couch and too many missed hugs and kisses. Too many long nights talking to others, ending in a gin induced coma rather than love making. It’s created a void. We are left shell-shocked and confused. This can not be repeated.
So now what?
Well now our doors are closed. There will be no visitors, no “routine – destroyers” or “time -zappers. ” No distractions. We have to deal with ourselves and one another. A daunting notion.
It’s going to be a rocky couple of weeks as we sink back into the ebb and flow of our lives.
Hopefully we can pick up where we left off before the madness and after the dust has settled. I hope this has been a lesson learned by both of us. Say No, say Yes but always save some room for US.
I also miss him like crazy already and it’s only 16h30 on Monday afternoon. A good sign.
Peace out.
January 27, 2016
The Art of Being Judgemental
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I had to stop what I was doing to write this post because what I have just read stopped me in my tracks. My retired parents are, as we speak, embarking on a cross-oceanic cruise where there will be no land in sight for days on end. Presumably this has made them reconsider the fate of the Titanic because I just received an email from them.
This email told me where to find their Will should they suffer a similar fate to that of the previously mentioned cruise ship. It also assured me that their grandchildren (one of which being my child) were catered for in their Will provided that… and here’s the crunch… they have no tattoos or criminal records by the time they are 25yrs old.
Now a criminal record I can understand, if my daughter were to become a jewel thief she would hopefully excel at her chosen profession and so would need no further money to add to her acquired wealth. I get that.
But tattoos? Ok, if she were to take up safe-cracking as a hobby I would suggest to her not to get a tattoo as this would make her more memorable to any witnesses. That’s good, practical thinking.
But to be excluded from a Will because she has chosen to decorate her body and express who she is? I find that not only laughable but insulting. The judgement on my parent’s behalf has categorised my daughter’s entire repertoire of character traits into a category labeled ‘bad’ and ‘untrustworthy’. My parents have stated that if she were to get a tattoo she would be unworthy of their postpartum consideration or love.
How exactly would the inheritance meeting play out? Would the executor politely ask everyone to strip down naked so that he or she could examine our bodies for any tell-tale signs of naughtiness and immoral behaviour? And when one unfortunate person (let’s be honest it would be myself and my daughter) were discovered, would we then be asked to leave the room? Told politely that we were now out of the circle of trust and must only watch sadly through the window as my siblings are allotted their share of thoughtfulness our parents bestowed.
I must forgive my parent’s their generational prejudices though – because we are all guilty of judgement. The other day I was cashing in my birthday gift pedicure, and sitting next to me was a semi elderly lady who was clearly well-off. I heard her superficial conversation with her therapist and I immediately judged her as having experienced no seriousness or true hardships in her life. I pictured her as someone who had married into wealth and had led a pretty care-free life.
I then sat smugly in my own chair thinking how much better I was than her.
But I am a relentlessly friendly (and curious person) and so towards the end of our treatments I struck up a conversation with her. Within 5 minutes I was ashamed and reminded again at how easily we judge others purely on appearance. It turns out she was an Australian visiting her South African family, she had been a teacher most of her life and now was semi-retired. She now donated her time teaching through various charities. Did I feel like a right pratt or what.
And that’s the thing – pretty much 99% of the people on our planet (there are a few nut balls) are all just ordinary people, with the same hopes and dreams and sadness that we ourselves experience. They love, the fear, they strive. The package that they come in – whether male or female, short or tall, fat or thin, tattooed or not – it does not define their soul or their character. Too many times to count I have missed out on meeting an extraordinary person because I presumed they were something they weren’t.
A friend of mine once asked me what my worst trait was, he told me his was presumption. I now know what he meant.
And so, today I pledge this: I will never again presume to know another person unless I actually know that person. I will take the extra 5 minutes that is required to see beyond the packaging the stranger is presenting, and reserve my opinions and judgement on actual behaviour, and not on a perceived history I have just concocted.
I further pledge to test out the full range of make-up concealers available on the market so that all tattoo’s can be properly hidden, in preparation of a day which is (hopefully) far in the future.
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The post The Art of Being Judgemental appeared first on Sonia Killik.
The Art of Being Judgemental
I had to stop what I was doing to write this post because what I have just read stopped me in my tracks. My retired parents are, as we speak, embarking on a cross-oceanic cruise where there will be no land in sight for days on end. Presumably this has made them reconsider the fate of the Titanic because I just received an email from them.
This email told me where to find their Will should they suffer a similar fate to that of the previously mentioned cruise ship. It also assured me that their grandchildren (one of which being my child) were catered for in their Will provided that… and here’s the crunch… they have no tattoos or criminal records by the time they are 25yrs old.
Now a criminal record I can understand, if my daughter were to become a jewel thief she would hopefully excel at her chosen profession and so would need no further money to add to her acquired wealth. I get that.
But tattoos? Ok, if she were to take up safe-cracking as a hobby I would suggest to her not to get a tattoo as this would make her more memorable to any witnesses. That’s good, practical thinking.
But to be excluded from a Will because she has chosen to decorate her body and express who she is? I find that not only laughable but insulting. The judgement on my parent’s behalf has categorised my daughter’s entire repertoire of character traits into a category labeled ‘bad’ and ‘untrustworthy’. My parents have stated that if she were to get a tattoo she would be unworthy of their postpartum consideration or love.
How exactly would the inheritance meeting play out? Would the executor politely ask everyone to strip down naked so that he or she could examine our bodies for any tell-tale signs of naughtiness and immoral behaviour? And when one unfortunate person (let’s be honest it would be myself and my daughter) were discovered, would we then be asked to leave the room? Told politely that we were now out of the circle of trust and must only watch sadly through the window as my siblings are allotted their share of thoughtfulness our parents bestowed.
I must forgive my parent’s their generational prejudices though – because we are all guilty of judgement. The other day I was having a pedicure and sitting next to me was a semi elderly lady who was clearly well off. I heard her superficial conversation with her therapist and I immediately judged her as having experienced no seriousness or true hardships in her life. I pictured her as someone who had married into wealth and had led a pretty care-free life.
I then sat smugly in my own chair thinking how much better I was than her.
But I am a relentlessly friendly (and curious person) and so towards the end of our treatments I struck up a conversation with her. Within 5 minutes I was ashamed and reminded again at how easily we judge others purely on appearance. It turns out she was an Australian visiting her South African family, she had been a teacher most of her life and now was semi-retired. She now donated her time teaching through various charities. Did I feel like a right pratt or what.
And that’s the thing – pretty much 99% of the people on our planet (there are a few nut balls) are all just ordinary people, with the same hopes and dreams and sadness that we ourselves experience. They love, the fear, they strive. The package that they come in – whether male or female, short or tall, fat or thin, tattooed or not – it does not define their soul or their character. Too many times to count I have missed out on meeting an extraordinary person because I presumed they were something they weren’t.
A friend of mine once asked me what my worst trait was, he told me his was presumption. I know now what he meant.
And so, today I pledge this: I will never again presume to know another person unless I actually know that person. I will take the extra 5 minutes that is required to see beyond the packaging the stranger is presenting, and reserve my opinions and judgement on actual behaviour, and not on a perceived history I have just concocted.
I further pledge to test out the full range of make-up concealers available on the market so that all tattoo’s can be properly hidden, in preparation of a day which is (hopefully) far in the future.
January 22, 2016
Taking back the power of childbirth
Article by Victoria Taylor
NEED TO KNOW: Birth (F*ck Yeah) by Sonia Killik is meant to bridge the gap in information regarding different methods of childbirth, giving the power of choice back to expecting mothers.
Right off the bat, you can tell that childbirth is a subject close to Killik’s heart, and one she is extremely passionate about. She may have studied metaphysics and has been a life coach – one of the first in South Africa –but now she’s pumping out books. And the subjects of the books are something most women should be reading up on.
“After the birth of my daughter and going through that whole experience, I became massively passionate and quite enraged, actually, about maternity practices, specifically in South Africa.”
Killik revealed that the World Health Organisation (WHO) recommends a 15 percent caesarean section rate, but South Africa is shockingly close to being in the 90s.
Her book Birth (F*ck Yeah) aims to bridge the gap of information about the different types of childbirth. She believes many women are misinformed and bullied into taking a birth plan which suits their doctor and the medical industry. Killik stated that when she fell pregnant and visited a doctor, the first thing he did was try and book her in for a caesarean, without getting to know her or her plan of action when it came to actually having her baby.
She openly admits that her book is somewhat biased towards natural birth, as that is what she chose to do and believes it is an extremely empowering experience for women. “My goal is to change women’s minds and their perception about birth … that a medicated birth is not better for them, it’s not better for their children.”
Caesarean sections should be a last resort, as medicated births have a number of repercussions, such as babies born prematurely in order to fit in with a doctor’s schedule, a longer recovery time, drugs and the inability to breastfeed, she said.
“We live in one of the most poverty-stricken countries in the world, and these women who could feed their babies for free are being pushed to buy formula by the nurses and the doctors in the hospital,” she said.
“I’m saying own your own life, own your birth, stand up against these doctors who are, I’m sorry, taking complete advantage. Women are stepping into their own power, without a doubt. We’re demanding better salaries, we’re in more positions of power, politically and in the business world. But that one thing that is ours, that is childbirth, has been taken away from us.”
Killik admits that she had a fear of offending women who had elective caesareans, but she firmly believes that women should be given all the information regarding all forms of childbirth so that they can make the choice about which suits them better. She states that the book is lighthearted, broken down into easy-to-understand chapters and, although she researched the entire thing extensively, it’s still very personal. “I’ve been very raw and honest and used my own personal experience to help alleviate women’s fears because the biggest problem is fear.”
Killik’s book is currently being placed in bookstores around the country but is also available as a downloadable e-book.
The post Taking back the power of childbirth appeared first on Sonia Killik.
Taking back the power of childbirth
Article by Victoria Taylor
NEED TO KNOW: Birth (F*ck Yeah) by Sonia Killik is meant to bridge the gap in information regarding different methods of childbirth, giving the power of choice back to expecting mothers.
Right off the bat, you can tell that childbirth is a subject close to Killik’s heart, and one she is extremely passionate about. She may have studied metaphysics and has been a life coach – one of the first in South Africa –but now she’s pumping out books. And the subjects of the books are something most women should be reading up on.
“After the birth of my daughter and going through that whole experience, I became massively passionate and quite enraged, actually, about maternity practices, specifically in South Africa.”
Killik revealed that the World Health Organisation (WHO) recommends a 15 percent caesarean section rate, but South Africa is shockingly close to being in the 90s.
Her book Birth (F*ck Yeah) aims to bridge the gap of information about the different types of childbirth. She believes many women are misinformed and bullied into taking a birth plan which suits their doctor and the medical industry. Killik stated that when she fell pregnant and visited a doctor, the first thing he did was try and book her in for a caesarean, without getting to know her or her plan of action when it came to actually having her baby.
She openly admits that her book is somewhat biased towards natural birth, as that is what she chose to do and believes it is an extremely empowering experience for women. “My goal is to change women’s minds and their perception about birth … that a medicated birth is not better for them, it’s not better for their children.”
Caesarean sections should be a last resort, as medicated births have a number of repercussions, such as babies born prematurely in order to fit in with a doctor’s schedule, a longer recovery time, drugs and the inability to breastfeed, she said.
“We live in one of the most poverty-stricken countries in the world, and these women who could feed their babies for free are being pushed to buy formula by the nurses and the doctors in the hospital,” she said.
“I’m saying own your own life, own your birth, stand up against these doctors who are, I’m sorry, taking complete advantage. Women are stepping into their own power, without a doubt. We’re demanding better salaries, we’re in more positions of power, politically and in the business world. But that one thing that is ours, that is childbirth, has been taken away from us.”
Killik admits that she had a fear of offending women who had elective caesareans, but she firmly believes that women should be given all the information regarding all forms of childbirth so that they can make the choice about which suits them better. She states that the book is lighthearted, broken down into easy-to-understand chapters and, although she researched the entire thing extensively, it’s still very personal. “I’ve been very raw and honest and used my own personal experience to help alleviate women’s fears because the biggest problem is fear.”
Killik’s book is currently being placed in bookstores around the country but is also available as a downloadable e-book.
January 17, 2016
Rise Beautiful Women, Rise
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Earlier today I was giving an interview on Birth. Within 5 minutes I had become tongue tied while bouncing up and down in my seat. I was acting this way because I had reconnected with my deep passion for the subject and was having difficulty reigning myself in while the journalist looked on in amusement.
I am grateful for my fumbling (and somewhat embarrassing) enthusiasm because it reminded me how very important the subject is.
The woman who interviewed me is not a mother and so while trying to express the boundless beauty of natural childbirth, I realised that it was like trying to explain what it feels like to fall in love or have an orgasm – something’s just have to be experienced first hand.
And as I am wont to do – my passion soon turned to anger.
I am angry at the maternity industry. For industry is what it is: empty of spirit and uncaring of casualties.
I am angry that men have taken over the business of birth when to them it is no more than theory.
But mostly I am angry that women around the world are denied the most pivotal, magnificent and transformative experience that is possible to have been gifted with.
We fought hard for equality – we burned bras and demanded equal pay. We have brought ourselves out from the annals of a subjugated history to stand proudly in our exposed skin and beautiful tattoos.
And yet… there is something magical that we left behind during our struggle. In fighting for an equal place in society, we somehow bought into the idea that losing feminine qualities was an acceptable price to pay.
We began frowning upon stay at home moms, we started defining our worth by material accomplishments that still use a man’s benchmark. And worst of all – we allowed our very birth right to be drained of all meaning and substance.
Childbirth – the very defining essence of a woman – has become mechanised and unemotional, something to fear and distance our selves from.
We sit meekly in front of a doctor’s chair as he informs us how our children will be born. We bury our instincts when we are manipulated into giving up all control of our own experience and dare not voice our fear or misgivings.
We have agreed that spirit must be excluded from childbirth, and in so doing gave up a piece of our own.
We swallow the pain and humiliation felt during a birth that we were just a participant in. We tell ourselves the trauma was worth it because we have a healthy child. We spew out the same reasoning that was passed onto us by professionals who have little interest in our emotional selves.
Birth has become deeply wounded, in the untold stories that women bury in their hearts. Of births that turned out other than the way they wanted, of shame, disappointment and regret.
Months or even years of struggling through hidden pain; feeling’s of failure when the only way to have a healthy baby was via an operation, an operation that was perfunctory and devoid of value.
A family member wrote to me, telling me that my book traumatised her because she could not have the natural birth she wanted. And my righteous anger at the industry turned to shame that I had caused her pain.
It was enormously difficult to write Birth, because I knew the backlash it would create. But it is something that must be faced – not only within my own conviction, but most importantly in our world.
Birth should not be steeped in the painful emotions that it is.
Whether we birth our children alone or with help, whether our pregnancies were care free or complicated – we must return to spirit. We must bring back the respect and above all care for women during childbirth, even if they are in an operating theatre.
The industry will not change, it is efficient and profitable and so why should it.
Although some births have no other option but that of a caesarean, even then the experience can and must be sacred. Yes it requires more effort, more time and more consciousness on behalf of the doctor’s – but I challenge you to find any other life experience more worthy of effort than that of a child’s birth.
I call upon women to transform it. I call upon women to demand better treatment, not defined by hospital rulebooks or dependent on an individual doctors character. I call upon women to say that we are proud of being a woman! We are proud of the lives we carry and what we endure to bring those lives into the world.
I call too upon men: that they can cherish the process of birth, and begin to recognise the profound impact it has on a woman. That birth is so much more than a process of removing a baby from a womb, to honour the indescribable strength a woman must find within herself to not only birth her children – but mother them as well.
The desensitisation of childbirth is a global issue: it permeates our culture and collective consciousness. It reinforces the belief that human life is not important, that the mean’s justifies the end.
I say this:
Rise. Rise beautiful women and say No
Step back into the feminine.
Claim back the majesty that is within you when we birth our children. Be proud that the courage within you can overcome any fear that you have been taught to believe. Find your voice as you either squat naked or lie on a table and say that your heart, mind and soul matters.
Lead the change that will see future women birth their children surrounded not by an industry, but by the utmost respect, honour and love,
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Rise Beautiful Women, Rise
Earlier today I was giving an interview about my book on childbirth. Within 5 minutes I had become tongue tied while bouncing up and down in my seat. I was acting this way because I had reconnected with my deep passion for the subject and was having difficulty reigning myself in while the journalist looked on in amusement.
I am grateful for my fumbling (and somewhat embarrassing) enthusiasm because it reminded me how very important the subject is.
The woman who interviewed me is not a mother and so while trying to express the boundless beauty of natural childbirth, I realised that it was like trying to explain what it feels like to fall in love or have an orgasm – something’s just have to be experienced first hand.
And as I am wont to do – my passion soon turned to anger.
I am angry at the maternity industry. For industry is what it is: empty of spirit and uncaring of casualties.
I am angry that men have taken over the business of birth when to them it is no more than theory.
But mostly I am angry that women around the world are denied the most pivotal, magnificent and transformative experience that is possible to have been gifted with.
We fought hard for equality – we burned bras and demanded equal pay. We have brought ourselves out from the annals of a subjugated history to stand proudly in our exposed skin and beautiful tattoos.
And yet… there is something magical that we left behind during our struggle. In fighting for an equal place in society, we somehow bought into the idea that losing feminine qualities was an acceptable price to pay.
We began frowning upon stay at home moms, we started defining our worth by material accomplishments that still use a man’s benchmark. And worst of all – we allowed our very birth right to be drained of all meaning and substance.
Childbirth – the very defining essence of a woman – has become mechanised and unemotional, something to fear and distance our selves from.
We sit meekly in front of a doctor’s chair as he informs us how our children will be born. We bury our instincts when we are manipulated into giving up all control of our own experience and dare not voice our fear or misgivings.
We have agreed that spirit must be excluded from childbirth, and in so doing gave up a piece of our own.
We swallow the pain and humiliation felt during a birth that we were just a participant in. We tell ourselves the trauma was worth it because we have a healthy child. We spew out the same reasoning that was passed onto us by professionals who have little interest in our emotional selves.
Birth has become deeply wounded, in the untold stories that women bury in their hearts. Of births that turned out other than the way they wanted, of shame, disappointment and regret.
Months or even years of struggling through hidden pain; feeling’s of failure when the only way to have a healthy baby was via an operation, an operation that was perfunctory and devoid of value.
My sister in law wrote to me, telling me that my book traumatised her because she could not have the natural birth she wanted. And my righteous anger at the industry turned to shame that I had caused her pain.
It was enormously difficult to write Birth, because I knew the backlash it would create. But it is something that must be faced – not only within my own conviction, but most importantly in our world.
Birth should not be steeped in the painful emotions that it is.
Whether we birth our children alone or with help, whether our pregnancies were care free or complicated – we must return to spirit. We must bring back the respect and above all care for women during childbirth, even if they are in an operating theatre.
The industry will not change, it is efficient and profitable and so why should it.
Although some births have no other option but that of a caesarean, even then the experience can and must be sacred. Yes it requires more effort, more time and more consciousness on behalf of the doctor’s – but I challenge you to find any other life experience more worthy of effort than that of a child’s birth.
I call upon women to transform it. I call upon women to demand better treatment, not defined by hospital rulebooks or dependent on an individual doctors character. I call upon women to say that we are proud of being a woman! We are proud of the lives we carry and what we endure to bring those lives into the world.
I call too upon men: that they can cherish the process of birth, and begin to recognise the profound impact it has on a woman. That birth is so much more than a process of removing a baby from a womb, to honour the indescribable strength a woman must find within herself to not only birth her children – but mother them as well.
The desensitisation of childbirth is a global issue: it permeates our culture and collective consciousness. It reinforces the belief that human life is not important, that the mean’s justifies the end.
I say this:
Rise. Rise beautiful women and say No
Step back into the feminine.
Claim back the majesty that is within you when we birth our children. Be proud that the courage within you can overcome any fear that you have been taught to believe. Find your voice as you either squat naked or lie on a table and say that your heart, mind and soul matters.
Lead the change that will see future women birth their children surrounded not by an industry, but by the utmost respect, honour and love,
December 11, 2015
The Allure of Illusion
I wrote the below exactly 5 weeks ago, and the only person who read it was a person who struggled intensely with illusion in all it’s forms. I came across it last night and it stopped me in my tracks.
Was it a premonition? Or perhaps another reason that we were drawn to each other; that we each understood so well the seduction of a different reality. I thought I would post it to Elephant Journal but they wrote back to me saying I had not sufficiently explained why illusion was a part of my own life. They have encouraged me to dig deeper and expose more.
I gave this thought and I have decided not to.
Because when we constantly look to the past we give it power over our present.
And the past is something that can either keep us low with remorse, or high with conviction.
Our lives are equally wonderful and terrible, although individually the facts may differ, our experiences are all the same, and so I know that we have all spent time desperately wishing that an event did not happen, or hoping that our life was anything other than what it was.
And that is ok.
Just as our greatest joy weaves into who we are, so too does our pain become a gift – if we accept it.
And so… here is my own illusionary allure:
My relationship with illusion has been a constant in my life. At first it was my protector; providing a safe haven from the reality I could not live with. Although I came to trust in it, illusion will only ever be true to itself.
It pretended safety but in truth it blinded me to my prison.
It has weaved it’s dark magic into all parts of my life: my relationships, goals, ideals… and most insidiously – into my deepest self.
I have tried to break the chains it has wrapped around me. But it is getting harder and harder to recognize them. They are indeed magical, adapting and hiding their existence as I grow within my life.
They wear the mask of contentment: but my true peace lasts only on the condition that I don’t introduce anything or anyone to my life that might force me to feel too deeply.
They pretend to be signs of success: yet am I not in essence merely filling my days with endless to-do lists so that again I am spared feeling?
And their worst trick of all, these chains which meld themselves into healing: after every major shift in consciousness, after the storms have calmed and I believe I can finally enjoy the pleasures of new life, they reveal their existence.
They show me how once again I have willingly bought into their untruths.
When we lose a loved one to death, we see how all our beliefs and faith were horrible lies.
Because pain will always trump illusion.
And so another safety net is removed.
When we believe we will not repeat past mistakes and then realise in shock that we are on the same stage, playing the same character.
Yes… Illusion is powerful.
But perhaps it’s true purpose is not to blind us, but to save us.
If we have the courage to walk through its gateway.
Each time false beliefs about our selves or our world are ruthlessly stripped away; we see a more vulnerable and raw version of ourselves. That is the true reality, and when we are presented with it we can either quickly pull a new illusion over our heads, or we can take another step towards a deeper truth.
And so the cycle continues.
I have a deep compassion for humanity, because of this I find it extremely difficult to condemn another. I suspect sometimes that my willingness to look past bad behaviour to the pain driving it might be another illusion I have allowed to settle upon me.
Be that as it may, we are all struggling through our own self-made illusions, and collectively trying to keep afloat of the biggest illusion of all…
That we are afraid of love, afraid of pain, afraid to be seen, and terrified to drop the chains that expose us to the highest truth.
We are all one, and until every heart and every soul on our planet can call each other beloved, we must continue to hold tight to illusion.
