Performing Arts My Ass!

Promises are meant to be kept and I am a woman of my word.

A few weeks ago, I told my Facebook friends that there was a story to be told and today I was reminded that it is outstanding.

Less than a month ago, I travelled to Edmonton for an unfinished and undisclosed business. At the writing of my last post, it was not prudent of me to provide the details of my trip. It was still important for me to "keep my own counsel."

Well that time has passed.

Like every good story this one has some very interesting people and of course drama. However, before getting to the juicy stuff I must set the stage. This could be a long tale but in the interest of time many of the blanks can be filled in by scanning through the archives of Comforting Words.

The year you would be looking for is 2005 - 2006 approximately one year after four people met in a grocery store. At first it felt like a chance meeting but later my better sense would remind me that there are no accidents or coincidences in life.

In my soon-to be 45 years I have lived at least four lives. This story would then be the culmination of my third life. It lasted almost 16 years and were some best and the worst years of my life. The challenges of discrimination, a dysfunctional family – my own and my in-laws', a broken Jamaican economy and migration were painful but were fodder for my personal growth.

Nothing however prepared me for the events that would unfold almost four years to the date of arriving in Edmonton.

Two people came to this beautifully cold 'Promised Land' with a child and a dog in tow to start a new life. Multiculturalism, prosperity, economic opportunities and freedom to be who you are without fear of discrimination were some of the slogans that caught my then partner's and my attention.

The relationship, though rocky at times, had lasted for 12+years when we arrived and we were hope-filled that things would improve once the barriers to everlasting happiness were removed.

Perfidia , the name I will use for my former partner, was so excited when this chance meeting occurred in the grocery store. We had been in Canada for near to two years and had not made any friends. Isolated hardly describes our existence for a long time after arriving, up until I became a member of a very welcoming church. However, the church scene was not Perfidia's idea of fun and companionship and so meeting these people and their invitation to a house party bordered on climactic.

Soon we were "friends" with this couple, seeing them almost every weekend and sharing some wonderful meals. In fact, my first jambalaya was prepared by Whacko; the name I now choose to use for someone who I once thought honourable.

But all was not well in paradise and by March 2006, or there about, Whacko and The Witch were separated. It was to be a temporary situation, to give each party time and space to work out their differences.

I heard the news of the separation while in Toronto, Ontario on church business. The Witch was so devastated that although there was a raging snow storm Perfidia had to rush over to lend support. I would later learn, much later, that our then teenage daughter was left alone for the entire weekend in order to lend support to The Witch. What a joke!

My choice of the name "The Witch" for this individual has more to do with the persona than any residual feelings of bitterness. Anyone who would lie about their husband of 22 years just to escape in the arms of another, lie about their academic achievement to gain a job they were not qualified to have, try to seduce a relative of their partner bearing a bottle of wine and a person who would smile while calling you a bitch because you were too sick to attend their birthday must own a wand. Not to mention that this individual is actually a Wiccan.

The much touted feminine intuition should never be discounted no matter the pressure received from others, particularly a suspected cheating spouse.

My spider senses were beginning to tingle when The Witch announced that a planned trip to their childhood home in another province was not to be solo but in the company of Whacko. I was flabbergasted as by then it was clear to both Perfidia and I that that relationship was over. More than once The Witch had mused aloud the plans being cooked to buy out the house co-owned with Whacko. So why in heaven's name would one go across the country to introduce to the family the person you were leading on until you could pull the rug from under their feet? Witch!

That moment should have been my first real indication that something was going on between The Witch and Perfidia. It escaped me then but I certainly did not miss when they covered themselves in a blanket on our living room couch one evening after supper. After The Witch left, I confronted Perfidia . My questions, however, were rebuffed and I was instead accused of being too jealous.

The Witch had become something of a fixture in our lives by that time, even sleeping over in our two bedroom apartment. I became uncomfortable and began to have dreams that would only later make sense. Months later I would check my journal to find an entry about a snake the morning after The Witch slept over. Most dream books that I checked basically told me the same thing:

"The snake is most of the times associated with hidden facts and thoughts, with danger that lurks somewhere near you, but you are not aware of it…The snake may also stand for slyness, deceit and treachery. With his slippery body, hiding in the grass and crawling at your feet so you do not notice it, the snake will wait for the right moment to attack and maybe kill you."

What I did not know then in July 2006 was that the snake, The Witch had already attacked. My intuition was being compromised by Perfidia's constant feeding to me that they were just friends and I was simply too jealous. Another clue that I missed was the way Perfidia became unglued when I installed caller id on our cell phones. I had no real reason to do this but a telemarketer from the phone company had convinced me that it was a great deal.

Things finally came to a head when in late September 2006 I declared that it was not right that we had seemingly taken The Witch's side and had ignored Whacko. Perfidia was not at all excited when I suggested that we got in touch and invited Whacko to dinner – just to remain balanced. As far as I was concerned they were both our friends and frankly it felt to me as if The Witch had captured us in a conspiracy to screw over Whacko.

Little did I know how close to right I was!

Come back soon for Chapter Two.

Blessings,


Claudette


 

 

 

Closing a Chapter

Today was not a very productive one for me.

There was much paperwork on my desk to do. There is always a report to write or 'clients' to meet for a variety of reasons. In fact, several had passed through my office since 08:00 hours but by lunchtime my spirit was sagging.

Whether it was the nagging pain caused by the fibroids that I still am refusing to have an hysterectomy to remove or the anxiety that always arises whenever there is a trip planned to Edmonton to conclude an unpleasant matter I was not sure.

It might have been one of those 'mind/body' situations whereby the increasingly uncomfortable pain in my uterus was brought on by my thoughts about this trip that was drawing neigh.

Edmonton was the second Canadian city that I visited by 2002. My first trip to Canada (in the late 1990's) had taken me to Ottawa, where I was impressed by the regal buildings, driving down the tree-lined streets in a diplomatic car with the flag of my former university-mate's country flying and visiting Parliament Hill.

Our arrival in the capital of Alberta was less impressive but awesome nonetheless as it was to be the beginning of a new life - one of freedom to be everything we were meant to be without fair or prejudice.

That it would be a hard and long road to full freedom was not entirely unexpected but still the reality was sometimes just too much to bear. Former assumptions about access to some of life's basics - such as respect, equality and a fair chance - soon went out the window. It would take many menial jobs, going into serious debt to re-tool professionally and a rapid slide down the socio-economic ladder before things began to even look as if it could get better.

The life of an immigrant of my race and gender can be extremely challenging. When other factors are added to that, such as sexual orientation, 'disability' of any kind and/or quickly diminishing financial resources, it can be really, truly hard to settle in Canada.

My situation was further compounded because the 'best ' was saved for last. A few years after arriving in Edmonton and as the ironies of life would have it, in the moment that things were just beginning to look as if we could pull this off, my world as I had dreamt it, was reassured it would be and fought to secure for many years was turned upside down.

"So much for that," I thought.

The road to full freedom had just gotten longer and took a major detour. As if that was not enough, a few months later this knife-crazy, short, male gynaecologist/surgeon was telling me he wanted to take out all of my womanhood. I supposedly had fibroids the combined size of a 5-6 month pregnancy and it needed immediate removal. He would try to save what he could but "no promises." I was not comforted in the least. The car was not even warm before his office was calling with a surgery date two weeks later (February 2007).

"For crying out loud! I have nothing left to be taken...leave me alone!"

On December 31, 2009 as I created my visioning board/collage for the year 2010 and declared that this was a decisive year on my journey to full freedom, I knew that there were still-opened chapters that had to be closed.

Now six days into this year my body was in agreement and although my new female doctor, 'black' South African to boot, had taken off the table the need for an "immediate" hysterectomy, my womb felt as if it was in the throes of labour. Several times today I had to excuse myself to go to the bathroom to check what was happening.

There is one school of thought that the development and growth of fibroids can be linked to mental and physical stress. When I first learnt this, I tried to retrace my menstrual cycle to see when abnormalities or major changes started to appear. It was not a very hard exercise. The clues were there for several years and most notable since migrating to Canada.

My most recent tests shows that the fibroids have shrunk - now the size of a 3-month pregnancy after two plus years of spiritual healing, self-care and nurturing, career growth, financial well being and a growing sense that I can trust those in my inner-most circle.

Another thing that I believe helped me is the realisation that there comes a point in life – or many points – when you take stock and accept that some dreams were really myths and must be released, burnt or killed. Whatever it takes to free the Spirit!

In a few days from today that last opened chapter - 'Travail and Drama in Canada' - will be closed in Edmonton. Maybe on that day whatever is struggling to finally exit my body will?

What is for sure, however, is that I will be one step closer to full freedom.

Blessings,

Claudette

Full Free in 2010

In the 44 years that I have been walking this Earth plane, I am hard-pressed to recall a New Year's resolution that I have kept for longer than a day.

This pastime that we have of making a list of vices that we resolve not to repeat in the upcoming year is hog wash. Sorry for my directness but having duped myself so many times into believing that I could vow not to overeat, lose weight, save money or some other folly of that nature makes me cynical on this score.

For several years now, New Year's Eve have found me envisioning, not vowing, a better path for my life. My decision to spend December 31 into January 1 praying, scanning magazines for images and creating a collage of my New Year started in 2006. It was a decision made in desperation but one of the best I have ever made.

Instead of dancing the night away with a bunch of drunks, looking to get laid (sorry for the frankness but it's the truth) by someone other than their partners, husbands or wives I spend my evening in the quiet of my home, usually alone with my dogs, praying for guidance and making a collage of the best me that I can see.

Yesterday (Sunday December 27) my husband said he wanted to hear a sermon. This was an unusual request, one that was partially prompted by my eliciting a promise from him to layoff Farmville (Facebok) for the day.

Actually, he wanted me to deliver the sermon as I have not done so in more than a year now. One of his proudest memories of me is sitting in the pews of a church listening to me preach and for some reason he wanted to be in the space again yesterday morning.

He agreed to watch Bishop T.D. Jakes instead on the computer.

As we prepared breakfast the worship service got underway at Potter's House, however, unlike many other services this one did not grab my attention. Well not until Bishop Jakes got into the meat and potatoes of his sermon.

"Kill it, destroy it…!" he shouted. "Then give praises!"

What the heck is he on about I thought.

"You cannot go into the New Year with the old year's baggage!" he was saying or something to that effect. By now he had my full attention.

Hash browns in my mouth watered down by my silent tears, I raised my hand when Bishop Jakes said, "I am preaching to somebody in here today!"

I didn't know about any of the well coiffed, high brow ladies and deaconess in the Potter's House but for sure I knew Bishop Jakes was talking out my business!

How many years have I been walking around with the pain of rejection, loneliness, abandonment, low self esteem, not feeling good enough, deep unhappiness despite the smile on my face? How many times have I fooled myself into believing that I have released an issue only to have it resurface across the oceans? How many vows have I made to do right the next year, eat less, exercise more, give unselfishly and never managed to achieve any of these?

I listened keenly to Bishop Jakes teaching all who cared to learn that until you "kill and destroy it," – the ghosts of the past that keeps haunting your now – you will not find real peace and meaning. The truth of his words stirred a memory.

Some many years ago I attended my first Burning Bowl Service in Kingston, Jamaica. It is a special service hosted by the Universal Centre of Truth for Better Living in January each year and participants are invited to write out and burn in a collective fire the issues of their hearts. I attended two of these services and have burned many pieces of paper in that bowl. I have even had my own private burning sessions, setting alight paper, pictures, cards, anything that would hold me in a past that I so badly needed to be free of.

Proverbs is possibly my favourite chapter in the bible and some of the best advice, at least to me, comes from the fourth chapter. My preferred translation is the New Revised Standard Version and these are some of the verses that I hold dear:

²³Keep your heart with all vigilance,
   for from it flow the springs of life.
²⁴Put away from you crooked speech,
   and put devious talk far from you.
²⁵Let your eyes look directly forwards,
   and your gaze be straight before you.
²⁶Keep straight the path of your feet,
   and all your ways will be sure.
²⁷Do not swerve to the right or to the left;
   turn your foot away from evil.

In my opinion this is what Bishop Jakes was reminding me as I prepare to enter 2010. Enough of the meaningless New Year's resolution – it is time to kill and destroy the self-talk and thoughts that would take my eyes and feet away from the Journey. It is not enough to "let go." To begin to realize a deep seated freedom in my 45^th year, it was time to "kill" the remnants of my bondage.

I know he was speaking the truth because since I have stopped the New Year's Eve night debauchery and spent the night in quiet reflection creating my vision board, things have been very different in my life. Just about every image that I have pasted on my collage has materialized – house, new vehicle, someone who loves me "more than cook food", marriage, vacation(s), career growth, etc.

Yet, some things are outstanding and cannot be mounted on any board.

"Full free" - as that would-be slave Cinque said in the movie Amistad, is what I am aiming for in 2010. And to be fully free requires killing those New Year's resolution prompted by society's notion of what is normal, beautiful or cool. Full freedom is even more than wearing my hair kinky and in a fro' because that is what I want to do. To me "Full free" is what Jim Morrison is quoted as saying:

"The most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are. You trade in your reality for a role. You trade in your sense for an act. You give up your ability to feel, and in exchange, put on a mask. There can't be any large-scale revolution until there's a personal revolution, on and individual level. It's got to happen inside first. You can take away a man's political freedom and you won't hurt him- unless you take away his freedom to feel. That can destroy him. That kind of freedom can't be granted. Nobody can win it for you."

On December 31, 2009 I will prepare, reflect and envision my journey to Full Free. My prayer for you my friends is that wherever New Year's Eve finds you ringing in 2010 you too will one day start your journey to "Full Free!"

Blessings!

Claudette