- The rule of the father or patriarch, in a sense, rule of men.
- Existing at ideological and material levels.
- An ideology of women’s subordination.
- The underlying basis that men are superior to women and women are part of men’s property.
- Interacting with other systems (economy, class, race, ethnicity, caste and gender) in the construction of social institutions like culture, the state and law.
- Establishing male dominance and control in personal relationships, the family and society at large.
- Based on a material basis that benefits men.
- Perpetuated through institutional beliefs and structures, which are kept in control through violence.
- Not static, keeps changing over time, varies historically, in different socio‑econ‑political contexts, and with different classes, race and ethnic groups, etc.
“Speech is silver, but silence is golden.”
The older I become the more I yearn for silence and the more I am aware how noise suffocates our lives and our world. For many of us, from the time we wake up to the buzzing, cantankerous noise of an alarm, to the time we fall exhausted into bed, with the neighbourhood dog serenading us to sleep, we are accosted by noise. Pleasant noises, loud noises, terrifying noises, annoying noises at home, work, school and restaurants. Noise surrounds us. Most of the time we are not even aware how noise has defined who we are.
Most of us contribute thousands of words to the atmosphere every day. We also have thousands of words come at us. Words that tell us who we are, how we are, why we are. Words that shape us. The noises that we have listened to from a young age have greatly contributed to the people we are today. The noise of our environment – our family, friends, the space we live and work, entertainment and media (and let’s not forget the very loud, non-decibel noise of social media), all shape our thoughts and actions.
Psychologist Marilyn Price-Mitchell is concerned about the noise and lack of silence in the lives of a younger generation. She writes, “The reason we should ask the question, and encourage teens to explore silent spaces, is because we know that self-reflection is important to human development and learning. John Dewey, a renowned psychologist and education reformer, claimed that experiences alone were not enough. What is critical is an ability to perceive and then weave meaning from the threads of our experiences. The function of self-reflection is to make meaning. The creation of meaning is at the heart of what it means to be human.” The discipline of silence assists in learning and in discovering meaning. Sadly, this is often missing from many of our lives. For a younger generation growing up in the hustle and bustle of modern life, noise is as natural as breathing.
I suggest that our modern world is actually addicted to noise. Silence, the idea of being left with our own thoughts, often terrifies us. The sense of loneliness or melancholy that we may feel, yet dull with noise, becomes deafening and acute with silence. However, if we learn to negotiate and immerse ourselves in the discipline and pleasure of regular silence it has great benefits, including preventing burnout. Silence and solitude provides a much needed break from productivity. It heightens our sensitivity and addresses our anxiety, which often stems from worrying about the future. Silence bring our awareness back to the present. Silence improves memory and cultivates a form of mindful intention that later motivates us to action.
In silence and solitude we became self-aware and begin to take ownership and responsibility of our lives and actions. Some of the brightest ideas are formed in silence. The discipline of learning to face something as uncomfortable as silence has great benefits for the rest of our lives. It takes courage as it does expose our muted pain and helps us reflect on our past. Silence also fosters compassion because it equips us to be patient and mindful of the other.
Many religions have embraced the discipline of silence in one way or another, although it is rarely a common practice in much of modern-day Christianity. In my own faith tradition, silence is rarely practiced in a communal sense and when it is, it is most often accompanied by instrumental music. Silence makes us feel awkward. If we manage to push past this awkwardness and begin the slow journey of regularly allowing for silence during our day, it will change us. Silence brings peace. Silence allows for God to speak. Silence transforms us. However, it should not be entered into carelessly because silence is confronting. Henri Nouwen writes, “Solitude is not a private therapeutic place. Rather, it is the place of conversion, the place where the old self dies and the new self is born … In solitude, I get rid of my scaffolding: no friends to talk with, no telephone calls to make, no meetings to attend, no music to entertain, no books to distract, just me – naked, vulnerable, weak, sinful, deprived, broken – nothing. It is this nothingness that I have to face in my solitude, a nothingness so dreadful that everything in me wants to run to my friends, my work, and my distractions so that I can forget my nothingness and make myself believe that I am worth something.”
It has now been several years since I first started the discipline of silence. First, I made room in my day, then I ventured to silent retreats. At first I found them terrifying – I was fidgety and anxious about all the things I needed to do! Now, years later, I yearn for silence. It has changed my life, my perspective and my journey with God. In a few weeks I will again go to a place of silence for several days. It no longer holds any fear. I drive into its gates and it welcomes me like a loving friend. I rest in its embrace – the sound of Silence is a healer.
Be still and know that I am God
Be still and know that I am
Be still and know
Three years ago we visited Ireland. I fell in love. In love with a countryside so spectacular it takes your breath away. In love with the people whose melodic, lilting accents had me so fascinated that I stared at them in a rather creepy manner. In love with a people who knew how to laugh and celebrate.
Ireland has gifted our globe with a fascinating history. It has also produced some of the finest poets. Irish poetry has developed distinctively from the 6th century, to Jonathan Swift in the early eighteenth century, to contemporary poets such as Seamus Heaney.
It is a poetry that has been shaped by the struggle to define Irish identiy. Irish poetry has a history of two languages: Irish and English, richly interwoven. The Irish language has the oldest vernacular literature and poetry. In the middle ages, the Gaelic order that supported some of the old professional bards, broke down. This resulted in the Irish language becoming marginalised and entering the realms of folk art. However, in the 19th century, Irish poets set out to reinvent the Gaelic tradition in the new language. The best example of this is the early work of W.B. Yeats.
Several years ago the Irish Times surveyed its audience and asked for their favourite poets. The top two were W.B. Yeats and Seamus Heaney. So here are some samples of these famous poets … I have also included one of Oscar Wilde as I found this poem so beautiful. If you have never tried to read poetry, this is probably the best place to start. Feed your soul, read it slowly.
When You Are Old
By William Butler Yeats
The trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine and fifty swans.
The nineteenth Autumn has come upon me
Since I first made my count;
I saw, before I had well finished,
All suddenly mount
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings
Upon their clamorous wings.
I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,
And now my heart is sore.
All’s changed since I, hearing at twilight,
The first time on this shore,
The bell-beat of their wings above my head,
Trod with a lighter tread.
Unwearied still, lover by lover,
They paddle in the cold,
Companionable streams or climb the air;
Their hearts have not grown old;
Passion or conquest, wander where they will,
Attend upon them still.
But now they drift on the still water
Among what rushes will they build,
By what lake’s edge or pool
Delight men’s eyes, when I awake some day
To find they have flown away?
(William Butler Yeats was the most famous Irish poet of all time. “The Wild Swans at Coole,” is surely one of the most beautiful poems ever written, in any language.)
When All the Others Were Away at Mass
By Seamus Heaney
In Memoriam M.K.H., 1911-1984
When all the others were away at Mass
I was all hers as we peeled potatoes.
They broke the silence, let fall one by one
Like solder weeping off the soldering iron:
Cold comforts set between us, things to share
Gleaming in a bucket of clean water.
And again let fall. Little pleasant splashes
From each other’s work would bring us to our senses.
So while the parish priest at her bedside
Went hammer and tongs at the prayers for the dying
And some were responding and some crying
I remembered her head bent towards my head,
Her breath in mine, our fluent dipping knives –
Never closer the whole rest of our lives.
(Seamus Heaney (13 April 1939 – 30 August 2013) was a poet, writer and lecturer from Northern Ireland. This poem is taken from Clearences, a sonnet sequence which he published in 1987 on his mother’s death.)
by Oscar Wilde
Tread lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.
All her bright golden hair
Tarnished with rust,
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust.
Lily-like, white as snow,
She hardly knew
She was a woman, so
Sweetly she grew.
Coffin-board, heavy stone,
Lie on her breast,
I vex my heart alone,
She is at rest.
Peace, Peace, she cannot hear
Lyre or sonnet,
All my life’s buried here,
Heap earth upon it.
(Born on October 16, 1854 in Dublin, Irish writer Oscar Wilde is best known for the novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray and the play, The Importance of Being Earnest. Sadly, he was arrested and imprisoned. His crime? Being gay. He died shortly after his release).
You don’t love someone for their looks, or their clothes, or for their fancy car, but because they sing a song only you can hear.
“Stand up for what you believe in even if you are standing alone!”
The final White Rose leaflet was smuggled out of Germany and intercepted by Allied forces, with the result that, in the autumn of 1943, millions of copies were dropped over Germany by Allied aircraft. I wonder what a defeated Germany thought as these papers rained from the sky, the voice of prophets and martyrs, begging them to take courage? I can only imagine the regret as they realised that they would be remembered as a generation that remained quiet in one of the darkest moments of history.
Elderberry Soup with Semolina Dumplings! Just the thought makes my mouth water and evokes childhood memories and nostalgia. This was a staple dessert during Elderberry season, whilst we lived in Germany. Elderberry picking was a compulsory past-time and my grandmothers would process this precious purple berry for both culinary and medicinal purposes. No one complained about taking Elderberry syrup as a medicine against cold and flu. Sadly, I find this highly nutritious fruit remains somewhat neglected and overlooked on our sunny continent. So allow me to share some Elder wisdom.
This tree was once considered sacred and linked to the ancient vegetation goddess, Hylde Moer. It was believed that the Elders were inhabited by tree dryads, who were benevolent if properly cared for. So Elders were planted around homes as people sought protection from witches and evil spirits. To cut down an Elder tree, in order to process it for the many medicinal uses, permission had to be sought from the tree dryad: “Lady Ellhorn, give me some of thy wood, and I will give thee some of mine when it grows in the forest.” With the rise of Christianity, tree worship was forbidden, and the Elder tree was depicted as a tree of sorrow. The narrative changed to imply that it was an Elder tree from which Judas hung himself and it was Elder wood that was used to make the cross on which Jesus died.
Many herbalists would consider the Elder as one of the most useful plants. Modern medicine is rediscovering this potent plant. Elders were listed in the Handbook of Medicinal Herbs (CRC Press) in 1985 and in the 2000 Mosby’s Nursing Drug reference for colds, flu, yeast infections, nasal and chest congestions, and allergies. The Hasassah Oncology Lab in Israel is using the plant to treat cancer and AIDS patients as it stimulates the body’s immune system. Further studies at the Bundesforschungsanstalt in Karlsruhe, Germany, show it is so effective against disease because it boosts the body’s production of cytokines; a unique protein that helps regulate immune response. Elderberry extract also reduces oxidation of low-density (LDL) cholesterol, and therefore has been effectively used to combat high cholesterol. Hippocrates reportedly referred to the Elderberry bush as his “medicine chest”.
The Elder is officially known as Sambucus, a species that comes as tall shrubs and small trees, and is part of the Honeysuckle family. Most species of Sambucus are edible when ripe and cooked. However, most uncooked berries and other parts of the plant are poisonous. Sambucus nigra, the one I have planted and is flourishing in my garden, is the variety considered to be non-toxic, even when not cooked, and is most often used for health benefits. Several species are native to North America and Europe. The Black Elderberry (Sambucus Canadensis) is the one used by many Native American tribes: “Used traditionally in Native American herbalism, Elderberry has been used by many tribes as a tonic medicine and food to promote health and vitality, as well as to fight pain and swelling. Used to clear lungs and ease breathing and to fight rheumatism. The flowers and berries of the Elder plant are now being researched as herbal remedies for bacterial sinusitis, bronchitis, high cholesterol, and management of the flu.”
Every part of the Elder tree can be used. I pick the flowers and infuse it into a tea. People also use the infusion in bathwater and as an eyewash. The leaves can be turned into an ointment, treating wounds and bruises (even haemorrhoids). The berries are delicious and there are many recipes that are dancing with goodness. The bark and branches have served in dyes, tool-making and insect repellents. If, for whatever reason you cannot plant Elders in your garden, or you don’t have a garden, don’t despair. I order dried, organic Elderberries online and make the soup out of that. The trees in my garden are still growing and developing.
Like any plant that is used for medicine or culinary purposes, caution needs to be applied. Please inform yourself about allergies and side effects. Elderberries are not recommended for pregnant or breastfeeding women.
So, why not listen to the wisdom of Elders and try something new that comes with excellent health benefits? I respectfully disagree with zee French Soldier in the Monty Python’s Holy Grail. King Arthur was quite right in asking whether there was someone else he can talk to up there. To have your father smell of Elderberries, is after all, not really an insult!
If someone asked me how I spent the last 25 years, I would have to say, “In a hurry.” That is not a statement I am really proud of. In fact, it is one of the things I deeply regret about the last two decades. My husband and I were married in 1986 and very involved in a larger faith community in Melbourne. Three children later and life continued to get more and more hectic. My husband was (and is) the Senior Minister of this church, and I was on staff fulfilling various roles. Everything moved fast. I never questioned this breakneck speed because in my mind this was all part of ‘God’s will’. This pace was also something I was used to from my childhood, where both parents worked and hurry was the norm.
It takes a very long time to become conscious of the fact that the way we charge through life at great haste, is not ideal. It takes even longer to begin to start to recover from this modern malaise. We eat fast, talk fast, walk fast, hit the elevator button twice and get irritated while waiting in traffic. We have become the experts in ‘multi-tasking’ and our conversations often center around how busy we are. Look around you, especially if you live in the city, notice how everyone seems to be doing life with a great sense of hurried urgency? Even in this ‘jolly’ Christmas season, tempers flare as shoppers are on a hurried hunt to find the ‘perfect’ presents for their loved ones.
Here is the bad news: this hurry thing is killing us. Hurry sickness has been defined as ‘a behaviour pattern characterised by continual rushing and anxiousness: an overwhelming and continual sense of urgency.’
Do we tolerate this rather second-rate way of life because it takes us such a long time to be truly honest with ourselves? We believe the slogans that slick marketing machines throw at us. So we work harder and longer to buy more stuff that we don’t need. Stuff, that causes us untold anxiety as we work relentlessly in order to repay the debt that we owe on the stuff we don’t need. For a split second we get a feeling of ‘pleasure’ from our possessions and this, in turn, feeds hollow ideals of ‘happiness’. So we have successfully created a contemporary world of hurry-harrowed people with bling and zing … and empty lives. Our consumer habits have won the day, or as William Wordsworth put it: “Habit rules the unreflective soul.” Slowly, like Truman Burbank, we begin to wake up to our false hyper-reality and realise the trouble we are in. No wonder there’s such an enthusiastic move towards minimalism.
“The great benefit of slowing down is reclaiming the time and tranquility to make meaningful connections — with people, with culture, with work, with nature, with our own bodies and minds,” writes Carl Honore. There is something about the discipline of slow that allows us to be truly human again. The popular Psalm 23 describes a Shepherd who leads his sheep by quiet waters and allows them to rest in green pastures. Unfortunately, this Psalm is often read at funerals, whereas it would serve much better as a reflection for the living.
It took me a long time to acknowledge that I was addicted to a different type of speed. Change was painful. But my life is different today. I have made choices that reflect my desire to live a more contemplative and attentive life. As a recovering hurry addict, I still at times hear the voices of my addiction. They try to tempt me back to that place. Sometimes they can be quite persuasive. But I have tasted a different life. It is in the ‘slow’ that I have learnt to see and it is in the unhurried that I have found joy. I don’t want to go back. So I have set some things in place that I practice. They include learning to listen more deeply, savouring the various moments throughout the day, expressing gratitude, saying ‘no’ without feeling guilty, freeing myself from religious cliches that promised life but brought ashes, throwing away unrealistic ‘to do’ lists and watching the sunset most evenings.
Friend, I am not here to tell you how to live your life. This blog is simply a tiny voice to point out that you have one magnificent life to live. Does your life truly reflect what you say you value? Maybe, like me, you have to make some changes – after all there’s a whole world of roses out there. Imagine if you didn’t make the time to smell even one?
“A quiet secluded life in the country, with the possibility of being useful to people to whom it is easy to do good, and who are not accustomed to have it done to them; then work which one hopes may be of some use; then rest, nature, books, music, love for one’s neighbor — such is my idea of happiness.”
Bullying: the use of force, threat, or coercion to abuse, intimidate, or dominate others. If you are anything like me, you have experienced your fair share of bullying, especially through those ‘delightful’ school years. In the middle of my first grade in Germany, they discovered I had severe astigmatism, and I became the proud owner of a rather huge pair of round glasses. My latest acquisition made me the perfect target for those seeking to “intimidate or dominate others”. The following year we relocated to South Africa and I was the immigrant kid who spoke no English or Afrikaans. I became well acquainted with the inside of the school library, as it offered the perfect refuge from bullies.
Although bullying in faith communities is often discussed in regards to abuse from spiritual leaders, I have also observed bullying by congregation members against religious leaders. Most often, both sides believe they have God on their side and therefore the despicable behaviour and/or words are justified. Religious bullies often think themselves as ‘prophetic’, bearers of the truth, and apart from feeling persecuted, they are generally angry with this ‘wicked’ world.
– criticism and belittling
– intimidating others
– spreading rumours, gossip and lies
– excluding and isolating others
– never admit any wrong
– refusal to show remorse or seek forgiveness for any wrongdoing
– zero empathy or understanding of what the other feels like
– aggression (this can be in words or even print)
– martyr complex
There are many helpful ideas on how to cope with religious bullies. One of the top rules: Give them no oxygen. Trust me, that sounds a lot easier than it actually is. I faced some serious bullying from religious lobby groups earlier this year and everything in me just wanted to take them out … but then I would become just like them: a bully. When we are the target of religious poison everything in us wants to dexify. Don’t. Let it go. That is horrible punishment for bullies who, often suffering from narcissistic personality disorder, crave our reaction.
In conclusion, maybe a most uncomfortable truth. Most of us, at some stage, have acted like bullies. We have intimidated others. We have coerced and manipulated others to do our bidding. No genuine conversation about bullying can happen without this recognition. I look back on my life and recognise many moments when I was the bully, when I was the oppressor, when I inflicted pain on others. To truly see social change in this area we need to recognise the human malady of insatiable hunger for power and dominance. This distorted survival mode does not exempt anyone, including, and maybe especially, religious folk who also have a God to bring into bullying tactics. We all need to be aware of the bully within, to move our lives from an ego-centric focus to one of love and grace.(Please note: Links are underlined)
I met Teisha in 2012. It does not take long to recognise that behind this kind, funny and intelligent woman also lies incredible strength. There is no doubt that part of this strength was fashioned because she had to face some major curve balls that life threw at her.
Teisha was just twenty-two and on a fast track to corporate success when her life was interrupted by a huge and unexpected hurdle. For the next four years she grieved for her lost dreams, caught in an avalanche of endless hospital ordeals and gruelling rehabilitation. Her devastating physical condition came to dominate her identity… until she decided to turn her hurdle into hope.
She committed herself to finding joy where it seemed impossible. Turning an existence of debilitating lows into a life of exhilarating highs, she left her homeland to travel the world. She left creature comforts to help orphans overseas. She left corporate life to become a social worker among the homeless and lonely. She found new gifts, new perspectives, new homes, new friends and in an amazing set of circumstances she found love.
She says this: “My life is unrecognisable to years ago. Today I’m no longer filled with negative energy nor overwhelmed by a life filled with uncertainty. Instead I’ve been able to find joy in my everyday life and have a genuine excitement about my future.
Early in my journey I experienced many aggressive relapses. But faced with poor health, I was hesitant to make changes in my life. I was living the life I had always planned. I’d finished university, commenced a corporate career and engrossed in Melbourne inner city living.
In my mind making changes to my life, altering any plans I had for the future, signified defeat. Even if I had wanted to make any life changes, I didn’t know what to change or how. As a consequence my health suffered and I felt stagnant; unsure how to move forward.
For me the key to moving beyond the darkness and frustration of living with MS has been momentum. I’ve been able to move beyond the negative energy by actively seeking new perspectives that challenge the way I think about, interact with and approach my illness and life.
Travelling overseas, studying social work, volunteering in Romania, living in a country town, exploring different approaches to wellbeing opened my world. I began to think about my life differently.”
Teisha’s story, in someway, resonates with so many of our lives. We all face different hurdles. Teisha used hers as a way to discover that life itself is greater than whatever may interrupt our dreams. I wanted to highlight her story and the discoveries she shares in finding hope and a future, amidst difficulties.
Teisha, to me, is one of those everyday heroes that has not allowed extremely difficult circumstances to rob her of living life to the full and being fully present. She is a huge source of inspiration to so many around her. There are so many lessons we can learn from her story, perhaps most importantly, that our often interrupted lives and the hurdles we face can lead us to hope and a new beginning.
Check out Teisha’s blog at Lives Interrupted.