Eva iz Rajskega vrta

Tiha sem. To se pravi, molčim. Raje molčim, kot bi bila delila laži.

Kolikokrat mi je danes šinilo: Kako ga sovražim!

Sovražim, da ga? Sem se mar zataknila nekje v srednji šoli, če moram intenzivnim čustvom, ki jih čutim do moškega, poiskati njihovo nasprotje, da bi se počutila manj ranljivo? Sem se mar res zataknila nekje v srednji šoli? Ali pa se je srednja šola zataknila nekje v meni in me sedaj, ob vseh sedmih retrogradnih planetih prosi, da jo tokrat raje izpustim, kot pa ponovno, že neštetič uprizorim.

Hm. Ali sem sploh sposobna v odnosu uprizoriti kaj drugega kot klasično srednješolsko dramo? Ali bi mi tokrat lahko uspelo uprizoriti odraslo sebe, Tamaro, ki se zaveda notranjih krikov svoje Tamarice, in deluje v skladu s svojo najvišjo vizijo o sebi in svetu, ki jo lahko drži?

Vse svoje otroštvo in vse tja do osemnajstega leta, ko sem odšla na sprejemne na AGRFT, smer dramska igra in umetniška beseda, sem razglašala, da bom nekoč igralka. Ko sem pa sprejemni izpit padla, mi je vse ostalo tudi padlo – in nikoli več nisem zavila na nikakršen oder v vlogi nekoga drugega. Ni mi bilo treba. Tedaj in tam sem namreč celo svoje življenje zavestno spremenila v oder: zavoljo vznemirjenja, zavoljo šova, zavoljo nestalnosti. Ja, tedaj in tam sem se zavestno odpovedala Tamari, da bi lahko bila vse: Julija, Magdalena, Kali in Afrodita, Diana in Brigita. Odpovedala sem se sebi, da bi lahko bila vse od naštetega. In bila sem. Bila sem vse od naštetega in neznansko uživala v tem, da lahko menjam obraz enako pogosto kot spodnje hlačke (ki sem jih tedaj še nosila). Mislila sem, da sem svobodna, če se uspem lahkotno, nonšalantno, doživeto izražati v svoji vlogi. Mislila sem, da vrtim cel svet okoli svojega mezinca … v resnici pa sem se sama vrtela v nižjih krogih Dantejevega pekla kot kurbe, zvodniki in zapeljivci, saj jaz v nasprotju z njimi nisem prodajala svojega telesa, marveč svojo dušo. Vse, kar sem počela, sem počela za plačilo.

In moje plačilo je bilo odobravanje drugih.

Zavist drugih.

Poželenje drugih.

Drugih. Drugih. Drugih.

Mene v tej enačbi ni bilo do izpred kakih sedmih let, ko se je začelo moje potovanje v žensko esenco – moje raziskovanje večne zagonetke: kdo sploh sem? Veste, včasih se mi zdi, da je bilo pred začetkom potovanja lažje odgovarjati na zgornje vprašanje. Tedaj sem samo skomignila z rameni in preprosto odvrnila: »Ne vem.« Ali pa sem pričela naštevati vse nalepke, s katerimi sem se istovetila, misleč, da odgovarjam na dejansko vprašanje.

Sedaj? Sedaj še vedno ne vem, kdo sem. Vem pa, denimo, da predstavlja to, o čemer govorim in pišem, zgolj tisto, kar se nadejam v (bližnji) prihodnosti postati in ne to, kar sem. Vem, da prav vsakič, ko začnem naštevati, kdo vse nisem, govorim iz mene strah, ne moja duša. In vem, da me dvojina plaši prav zato, ker se mi zdi neizogibno, da se bom v njej ponovno izgubila in ponovno po vseh štirih plazila do najbližjega kavča, ob katerega se lahko uprem in dvignem na noge …

hm, razen …

razen če bi mi na noge lahko pomagala njegova iztegnjena roka?

No, ne vem. Morda. Tvegano je, a lahko poskusiva. Ampak pod enim pogojem, dragi moj um: če mi vnaprej obljubiš, da me zaradi tega, ker mi nekdo pomaga vstati na noge, ne boš prepričeval, da sem manjvredna, nesposobna, neumna.

Sva dogovorjena? Prisežeš?

Prav, potem pa greva. Dajva, poskusiva, ali nama tokrat uspe stopiti v vlogo, v katero se mediva zadnjih sedem let: v vlogo Tamare, ki se sočutno zaveda notranjih krikov male Tamarice, ampak deluje v skladu s svojo najvišjo vizijo o sebi in svetu. Veš, to preprosto pomeni, da Tamarici ne bova dala sladoleda samo zato, da bi jo utišala, ampak preprosto zato, ker je poletje.

Dajva, um, poskusiva. Kaj sploh potrebujeva za to dramsko uprizoritev?

Igralko? To imava. Imava mene. Kolikor se spomnim, sem nazadnje prebivala ravno tu, v tem telesu, ki se zadnje tri dni napihuje in zmrduje nad tisto torkovo ohrovtovo mineštro. Če pozabim svoj tekst, lahko vedno računam na svojo žensko dušo, na svojo attho, ki piše moje vrstice v novem poglavju življenja, in ni vrag, da iz vsega tega obilja izraznih oblik, ne bo uspela izribariti ravno tisto Tamaro z zvrhanim košem zavedanja same sebe in vere v to, da se lahko tudi na tako zloglasnem terenu, kot so odnosi, počuti popolnoma varno in sprejeto.

Dobro, igralko imava. Naprej. Kaj še potrebujeva?

Oder? Ni nujno.

Gledalce? Ah, kje. Saj tega ne počneva več zavoljo vznemirjenja in šova in nestalnosti! Ne. Sedaj to počneva zavoljo sebe, zavoljo tistega dela sebe, ki si želi v odnosih z ljudmi uspevati, ne uveneti.

Ne potrebujeva odra in ne potrebujeva publike, ampak glede na to, da stopava v odrasle čevlje znotraj dvojine – si upam reči partnerstva? – boš ti neizogibno prej ali slej moj oder in moja publika.

D … daj, drži mi prostor, v katerem se lahko izrazim. Drži ga, ko bruhajo iz mene strahovi male Tamarice, ki se boji, da je nič. In drži ga, ko bruhajo iz mene provokacije mojega ega, ki si želi, da mu priznaš svojo zmoto in njegov prav; svoj poraz in njegovo zmago. Drži mi prostor, ko misliš, da iz svojega klobuka na skrivaj vlečem probleme, ker se že predolgo imava preveč lepo. Drži mi prostor tudi, ko misliš, da se boš vsak čas naveličal tega mojega razburkanega morja; saj veš, da je lahko tudi cele dneve in tedne čisto mirno in spokojno.

Vem. Vem, da sem zalogaj, ampak ti si vendar velik fant. Pardon, ni res. Sploh nisi velik fant. Tudi ti imaš tukaj, ob meni, priložnost uprizoriti moškega v sebi. Moškega, ki ne jemlje vsega, kar prihaja iz mojih ust, osebno; ki se zaveda, da so besede zgolj meglen odsev resničnosti, ki jo nabijajo s čustvi. Moškega, ki je kapitan svoje barke in gospodar svojih čustev; ki se zaveda, da ga nikoli ne prizadene beseda in dejanje drugega, ampak njegov lasten odziv nanje. Moškega, ki ve, da je ženska ob njem mogočna sila narave, ki senzibilno, dojemljivo, prizemljeno in včasih popolnoma kaotično potuje svoje krog mesec za mesecem – v imenu ljubezni, v imenu življenja in v imenu skupnosti.  

No? Kaj praviš? zaključim svoj notranji monolog in pogledam na telefon. Nobeno novo sporočilo me ne čaka. Hkrati si oddahnem in zakrčim. Toliko mu imam povedati, pa molčim. To se pravi, tiha sem. In dovoljujem, da se na zunaj zdi, kot da mi gre vse narobe in da je to tisto, kar me frustrira, v resnici pa samo izrabljam vsako priložnost zato, da se lahko zgrudim pod bremenom bolečine, in zjočem. Včeraj zvečer sem, denimo, po pomoti izbrisala dva nova zapisa, ki sta se rodila v zadnjem tednu in sem ju hotela podeliti z vami. Zaprepadeno sem bolščala v ekran, na vse pretege iskala za vedno izgubljena zapisa in se v resnici jokala iz strahu, da bi se tudi on ne pridružil rubriki »za vedno izgubljeno«.

Izgubljen, da bi bil? Ja, kako pa govorim? Saj v to vendar ne verjamem. Saj sem bila vendar še tri ure tega popolnoma pomirjena ob dejstvu, da sedaj pač ni najin čas … si oporekam.

Kdo komu oporeka? Ne vem. Pojma nimam. Ne vem več, kdo je kdo.

Ne, še vedno (ali pa morda spet) ne vem, kdo sem – vem samo, kam grem lahko to iskati.

O, slišim jo, me že kliče. Duša me vabi na divji ples. 

Gre kdo z nama?

No, če si premislite, veste, kje naju najdete. Navznoter in navzdol.

In dress code?

Rajski vrt. Eva v duši in Eva v telesu.

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Hvala, ker ste. Hvala, ker berete.

Rada vas imam,

Tamara M.

I am RICH

The past ten days were quite intense. I know, I am fully aware of the fact that I often say this. It’s because I often feel this, too. And I’m pretty sure it has something to do with the decision that I made many a year ago: I will never be bored in this life. And although I still agree with this, I reject the notion that if’m not bored, I have to feel the exact opposite of »bored«. I reject the notion that we live in a boring, linear, either-or reality, because the world that I want to experience is jucier, richer, vaster, deeper, more abundant than that.

I have felt the need to dig deeper for as long as I can remember. The »why’s« seemed to have no end. And although I looked for answers in many places, I was more often than not – dissasitsfied. I didn’t conceptually know the answers to my questions, but the answers I was getting didn’t seem right; they didn’t click. They were what was know nor accepted within this linear society, but they weren’t the answers to my questions. In this society we are taught to see things white or black, good or bad, light or dark, up or down, and we are taught to favour only one: the white, the good, the light, the up. We are taught, many would argue, right, while wrong would mean … seeing things for what they really are?

Shakespeare said: »Nothing is either good or bad but thinking makes it so.«

It is time to learn ourselves subjectivity. Things are what they are, it’s just that. Yes, they stir emotions inside of us. Yes, we are here to feel all of the feels … but we are not here to dwell in them. We are here to use them as guidelines. If something stirs a feeling within us, let it come, for it’s here for us to gain from it.

No, I will never be bored in this live, I’m a single mother after all. What I will be is RICH with all of the abundant feelings that a powerful, creative, passionate woman’s life can be.

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I am Enough

I’m sitting on Svarun’s bathroom step stool (you know the little steps they make for children to reach bathroom sink) while the computer is resting on our bamboo laundry hamper, dancing throughout my typing. I just washed my hair, something I was looking forward throughout the day, and I love how the water is freely dripping on my back and ass. I’m sitting here because I have nowhere else to go; namely, the floor in the rest of the flat is still wet from cleaning. I cleaned the entire flat because if there’s something I know about myself it’s that I like to return to a fresh and tidy home. So I decided to make myself happy. I’m the first one to take care of that. It’s just me after all.

During the day while I was preparing vegan treats to sell at a weekend festival here in Slovenia, I felt really good … but confused. I had this conversation in the morning with my friend and we were talking about running a business and making in happen and while it left me inspired for a while, it all melted down into these existential questions like “who am I” and “what is real” and “do I have to pick one thing to be, or can I immerse into everything that my heart desires”. I liked the existential nature of the questions I was asking myself because I think that once in a blue moon (or rather every moon) it’s good to redefine ourselves. Like, from head to toe. That’s one of the qualities of the darkness; of digging deep into oneself.

Who am I, then?

My friend Attila from Arambol’s jungle in India sums it up perfectly, when he says: “When we switch off the mobile and all the information and the news, suddenly it’s awakening by itself. It’s what we are all dreaming of, to be nobody again – it means ourselves, not this or that.” In the darkness, the etiquettes that we’ve attached to ourselves dissolve and what is left is what we really are.

What I learned today, is that I’m enough. I’m enough to do all the work that I need to do. I’m enough to go to a festival alone with my son. I’m enough to keep my son company. I’m enough to set up a tent, think of all we’re going to eat in the following days. I’m enough to do it all by myself.

Mind you, I didn’t know this before. I was always taught that a woman, let alone a mother, needs a man to help her out, so I gladly accepted the help that was lying around. I had been counting on it, so it always came. But with time I’ve learned that by accepting people’s help to do just about everything, I was disempowering myself. When I would break up with my boyfriend for the hundredth time, I’d call a friend because I couldn’t handle my emotions; when I would need to pay a bill, I’d call my father to do it for me because I couldn’t do it via the internet but didn’t feel like going to the post office to do it physically. The list goes on. And while I’m not saying it’s bad to ask for help or accept it when offered, I am saying: don’t count on it. The only person I can count on is myself. And this I’m not saying with my a mouth full of bitter ash of disappointment, but with pride and a full heart that knows – I am enough.

It’s always just me … which I mean in the most empowering way possible.

Go girl!

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Happy Feast Day, Everyone!

Today is the 2nd time we get to celebrate St. Mary Magdalene’s Day since Pope Francis raised her memorial last year. Once considered a prostitute by the Church, she was now proclaimed a saint. There is nothing more terrifying to men in position than an awakened woman, says Dale Allen Hoffman, who has been studying the topic of Biblical mysticism for decades now. I encountered his work a few weeks ago, and I just can’t get enough of the inspiration. He is a “civilian scholar”, mystic and energetic healer, who works with sound a lot. At the beginning of each of his events, he does the arameic (the language that Jesus and Mary Magdalene spoke) toning, because he says that us humans we can feel the sound vibration of words better then understand the meaning of them. Amazing.

I consider Mary Magdalene one of my guardians, which simply means that I keep her energy close to my heart at all times. The sacred feminine is something that I’ve been drawn to embody for the past six years, and I got in touch with Mary Magdalene’s archetype via a dear friend. As a priestess of the Temple of Isis (the ancient Egyptian virgin goddess, whose story suspiciously resembles the story of Mary, mother of Jesus), her biggest quality in my opinion is drawing together women of all colours and sizes, but with the same burning desire within their hearts and their yonis. This desire is to embrace the sacred feminine energy into our bodies, minds and souls and to live it. Mary Magdalene draws together priestesses, and this quality is highly necessary nowadays, because us women need sisterhood. We need it just as men need brotherhood, none is more important than the other. But up to this day, it has been easier for men to “join in circle” (ha, men would never say that) because in most cases women are the keepers of the home and thus … well, stuck home. Women need sisterhood not in order to survive – although this is debatable – but to thrive and grow and expand beyond the imagination of our minds and into the limitless potential of our souls. Because all we are really up to is grow and expand. Grow out of yesterday’s skin and expand through the experience of a new day. Now just imagine what it would be like if you knew that there was a circle of women, a circle of sisters standing behind you and cheering your way every time you faced a challenge?

The world needs women who are stepping out and into the world, to give that precious gift that only they can give to help our planet thrive. Giving is the most natural thing to women because of our innate knowledge that the well of love cannot be emptied. But if this giving is not in balance with receiving, we are left tired and unkept. So what the women who are stepping our need is to receive support and acknowledgement and respect. And if this patriarchal society won’t give it to them, then their sisterhood will. Won’t we?

If there is a women’s circle where you live or nearby, go attend, or have a girl’s night out. I’m just heading out to join women at a sweat lodge, where we’ll have a ritual. I am really looking forward to it, because there are a lot of things that are no longer serving me and I need to let go and give them to Mother Nature, trusting that she will transform them into something that serves all of us. As ever. If there is no such thing taking place, at least go listen to one of Dale’s amazing lectures and tone with him in the ancient language that cannot leave you stoic.

Happy sisterhood day, loves.

Hasta mañana.

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Magnesium Menstrual Smoothie

Yesterday was quite a day. I was expecting my period. It usually comes the moment I wake up in the morning, but yesterday was different in that regard. I did my yoga, meditation, started photo shooting this very smoothie, finished, started writing, had a meeting, went on writing and managed to visit my son’s kindergarten teacher. I rescheduled the meeting from today to yesterday, because I knew that if the red moon didn’t come yesterday, it would come today. And on the first day of my period, I want to be able to do whatever the heck I want.

 

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I knew I was going to get my period, because I experienced the famous drop in body temperature, according to Fertility Awareness Method (FAM) that I’ve been practising quite consistently now (well done, me). Do you know it? FAM helps you determine your fertile days by monitoring three bodily factors daily: your body temperature, vaginal secretion, and the position and softness of your cervix. Basically, FAM is natural birth control, but really it’s much more than that. It’s a way of getting closer to your body and your cycles. Something I wish I had known before, at least prior to popping the birth control pills a decade ago, and feeling oh-so-grown-up as I did it. Of course, every other girl was doing it, and when I got my first white and orange box (that would afterward challenge gigantic emotional turmoil), I finally felt like part of the clan; I somehow felt initiated into womanhood, if you will.

Funny, isn’t it? Funny and absurd, that I felt grown-up as I was numbing and deceiving my body, when in fact true wisdom comes from knowing and cherishing your body.

But how could I know? Nobody told me. In fact, how could anyone know if women of the last few centuries had to forget about the power of their cycles, if they were to survive, and not be burnt at the stake?

I’m not going into much detail about the inquisition today because frankly, I’m still not quite over it; I get goose bumps and tears flood down my cheeks uncontrollably every time I even think about it. But I will tell you this: every month this very thing reminds me of the great power us women possess. Shakti!

Why the frequency, you might ask yourself? Oh, just because of my Holy Menstrual Trinity. Whenever I have my moon cycles, all I want are three things. The first one is chocolatey-something for breakfast. The second one is endless scriptures, books, talks and interviews on the topic of feminine power and spirituality. The third one is me-time to do whatever the heck I will. If I thick all of the above boxes, I’m a happy woman.

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I asked my mother to babysit Svarun yesterday, so I could reschedule and see his teacher. What she told me was: “My goodness, why are you telling everyone about your period as it were an illness, for God’s sake!” And I thought to myself: “Is it wrong to schedule my days around my cycles? It’s not that I’m crying for attention or want everyone to pat me on the back. I’m not being “poor me”. I just … want to be true to my body. That is, after thirty years of neglect.” But then I remembered. I was eleven when I got my first period. My mother looked at me pitifully and said: “You poor thing, you.” Poor thing?  For becoming a woman? Now this makes me want to choke, you see. This has to do with Christianity, that’s been deeply rooted in Slovenian belief systems of what our social roles should look like. Women here are expected to take care of everyone except themselves; to give it all and ask for nothing in return. Their happiness is granted by seeing others with full bellies. While I do feel happy when I see Svarun happy, that’s not the only thing that makes me happy! That is to say, although I do feel happy when I give, accepting makes me happy, too. And for a lot of us women, the latter is something that’s not being practised enough.

Did you know that the greatest feminine virtue is that of acceptance? Can you accept … the air into your lungs, the money into your wallet, the painful memories into your story, your man into the whole of your being? Can you accept that you’re different every week, as part of being a woman? Can you accept that on the first day of menstruation, you don’t want to see or hear anyone/ don’t feel like cooking/ working/ being all patient and giving? Can you accept that your family still wants you to play small? Can you accept … all that you are?

If you’re still struggling with any of the above, I’m pretty sure you can accept this smoothie recipe without much thought.

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Mind your Magnesium

 It is said that magnesium deficiency is the commonest of all deficiencies, but virtually nobody talks about it, because it’s a new thing. And blood tests don’t show it because only 1% of magnesium is stored in your blood, while the rest lies in your bones. The catch is that magnesium dietary sources don’t grant it anymore, because the majority of it is lost in the refinement process. Magnesium content in vegetables has declined for up to 80% since 1950’s because of industrial farming, and grain refining processes remove up to 95% of total magnesium. What can you do about it? Your best bet is to grow your own vegetable garden, if you can; dark leafy greens are one of the easiest crops to grow and they are loaded with magnesium. If you don’t have access to a piece of land, at least boycott industrial farming by purchasing organic crops only. Since pesticides destroy organisms that provide nutrients to plants and fertilizers diminish the absorption of minerals, organic fruit and vegetables are way more likely to contain more magnesium.

I noticed a huge shift from very painful to slightly uncomfortable periods once I started minding my magnesium intake around menstruation. As you may know, magnesium is vital in nerve function, blood sugar control, and neurotransmitter release. It also relaxes the muscles and thus prevents cramps, which is good to know if you have painful menstruations. My speculation is that if I were mindful about my magnesium intake all through the month, the moon cycle discomfort would totally be gone. I’m about to try this, just for the experiment’s sake. I don’t expect my back pain, the heaviness in the legs, and general tiredness a week ahead will subside, and frankly – I don’t mind. Why? Because what I want the most is to know my body. I want to it so profoundly, so that I am able to aid my discomforts in ways of finding the right yoga poses, the right mindset, or enough rest. Know what I mean?

A few days ahead of menstruation I thus up my magnesium intake. I consume a lot of dark leafy greens, pumpkin seeds, cashews, cacao nibs, and use magnesium oil (that I highly recommend). I might experience a craving for chocolate, and it’s not a coincidence, since one square of organic dark chocolate contains approximately 95mg of magnesium, which is 24% of RDA. Other foods that include high values of magnesium are: bananas, avocados, almonds, figs, black beans, goat cheese, dates, yogurt, etc. But two months ago upon seeing this list of magnesium-rich foods, I took as many as I could and blend them into a delicious, chocolatey breakfast smoothie that I’m sharing today. It’s the best thing you can do for you, and the prescribed quantities will amount to two big bowls for you to enjoy.

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Magnesium Menstrual Smoothie

1 banana
½ avocado
fistful of dark leafy greens (I use the chard from my own garden, yay, 
but you can use spinach, kale or other)
fistful of soaked (or soaked + dehydrated) almonds, around 35g
fistful of Medjool or soaked regular dates, around 80g
3 tbsp of organic (possibly fair-trade) cacao, around 45g
pinch of salt
pinch of cinnamon
pinch of pepper
a squeeze of lemon juice (very important!)

Pit the dates, peel the banana, pit the avocado. Use only ripe fruit. 
Put everything into blender. Blend. Enjoy and accept the luxury of it. 
You know you can.

 

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I wish you all big love and acceptance,

Tamara