Autumn

The sun swings lower upon her orbital axle her late light streaking perpendicular through the hemisphere's autumn adornment.
Leaf cries spectacular hue in it's final curtain call preceding it's host's hibernation.
And I, a single inhabitant, am blessed to be witness beneath it

MH2011

The Wedding Approaches: Instalment Five

Yet another unexpected delight of this unique unfolding event (yep, the wedding) is just how cleansing the process is. And "unexpectedly" is exactly how such things have arrived.

Cathartic delights are upon me. Its hard rubbish collection time (only happens once a year in the mountains in which we reside) and the cathartic outpourings of a natural purger are enraptured. Old mattresses, boxes and bags of miscellaneous rubbish, tiny push bikes (still usable, so they're up on the roadside with matching still functional bike helmets), wheelchair arms removed upon delivery and never used... its a melange of wondrous abandonment :) And as I am there at the roadside, carefully positioning items, making them look pretty to those that may wish to make treasure of my trash, a thought occurs... Should I formally cast off the closing of this chapter in life?

Should I cast off what it has been to be alone for many years? Alone with 3 kids, one severely disabled, running an international business and all that goes with it: the clinic here in Melbourne, the courses, the travel, the books, etc.

Each involved with this wedding, however involved they are, have invested in it their own emotional endeavors. Naturally. Rite of passage like this have the ability to cause all to take stock at some level. As the event itself draws nearer a funnel-like effect develops and the intensity in the agendas at work condenses. I see in me plainly as much as I observe it around me.

I see it in the events unfolding, the lessons intensifying, the demands grappling more urgently. The rising waves of grief gripping me. The mental strength demanded for my patience to withhold. I see it in the dance of a heart once shackled.

A long time ago now I married a good friend (Do not do that. Love is real.) . Years later, out of the blue, he chose to leave us. In hindsight it was more premeditated on his part than that but at the time it was unexpected. We were alone: all money "disappeared" and inaccessible, pregnant, 2 babies, one with disabilities...wow, it was scary.

Simultaneously I am feeling the bitterness (several years overdue) and the bliss of the end of this chapter.

In a matter of days I will walk down an aisle into a sacred union with the greatest man I know. From the first, my heart has always been his. In a few days my vow and pledge will be before you all.

I had long ago given up any belief that this could be. A few years ago one of my greatest friends and colleagues, Jainee, and I came to the conclusion that it must be that we were married to our work. I then selected my heart become chaste, closed to any but always giving where it could.

For years.

Then out of nowhere a hand plunged into the dark chasm of this decision, gripping my heart and drawing it into light. Within days, (I often wonder if it was the same day) the same occurred for my friend.

I place ring upon that hand in a few days.

Should I formally cast off the closing of this chapter in life? Perhaps through ritual or process? Perhaps it was closed for me.

Or perhaps in these very musings, as I cast memory to the curb, someone may find treasure in my trash,

and too, reprieve their heart from Love's chastity.

For I was wrong: believe.

A Marital "obedience"

"...and obey."

I recently commented on a genuine friend, the wonderfully intelligent and fabulous journalist, Helen Barradell's, status on facebook:

"The emasculation of man over the past several decades is one of this planets greatest imbalances and perhaps core to our race's demise."
The approach of nuptials and the chosen venue for the vows had required we attend premarital counselling via an age-old religious doctrine housed within this hallowed venue: the church.

Those of you that know us know well enough that we both walk solidly in spirit and as such we both relished the opportunity to dance amid this atop of ancestry and history.

The church was onto us immediately, it seems, for we were separated from any "group" counselling invitation and offered a rare opportunity to undergo the sessions privately with the upper hierarchy of the establishment.



The first session left us divided in expression as we departed it.

I was appalled, saddened, disgruntled. Ferg: bemused.

One thing was plain: this church's view of marriage was not at all as either of us had ever seen it.



A little backtrack: the precedent working with us , a minister within the cathedral itself, was a woman. Plain in her countenance, her dress, her manner was the battle she had fought, and the strength she had summoned for it, for her place in this political community. Even more so was this battle plain in her approach to marriage. It is a battle that plainly is still present among us, but so much a common part of us that we don't really pay it much attention. These changing times have, as with all things caught in this acceleration, brought this to the fore...

Only last week at the meeting for the Order of Service with the church did the need for us to speak up become a necessity. The church immediately and, for the first time, quite passionately tried to dissuade us from our choice of service: a beautiful, linguistically luscious service worthy of the mystic warrior I am pledging to.

"Um...no." A pause as she glanced from Ferg (sitting back, arms folded and intimidating in his silence) to me, desperately trying to be patient,

"No," slight scoffing," Melissa, I think you should consider one of these.."

She pulls out a couple of alternative, more "modern", ready-to-go marital orders of service.

" This one is the one you'd know: its from 1962, the modern service and commonly used for some time, although, this..."
She drops volume with a flourish on her unkempt desk, "Is the Australian version, updated and released in 2005."

Her triumphant smile shows not a flicker of doubt that, of course, we would choose this one.

As she expands upon the brilliance of this choice of service, her pitch enthusiastic and true, we simultaneously lean over the desk, perusing her preferred versions. We look at one another, smiling, and gently lean back into our seats,


"We'd like the 1662." Ferg.

"But the Australian version..."

"We aren't being married in an Australian church."

She's confused. Yes, granted, the building is in Australia, the church does not originate from this country.

Me, "We'd like the 1662."


A cacophony of emotions run a sequence of shadows across her face in a moment.

"The version from 1962 is still commonly used, let me go over it..."


But the dawning of change was upon humanity , even in our slowed society, in the 60s. The "age of Aquarius" was on approach, the feminine rising, bras were burnt, men cooked their own dinner... and the balance of the sexes became a political game in a struggle for power. "Feminism" rose, hostilities were born is claims of "equality" and in those claims no foundation of being equal could be found.

In short, we did not want an order of matrimony founded in an era of gender power and politics.


"Marriage is not the "partnership" in compromise people continue to refer to.

It is unity. Duo Incarne Uno, "two become one" as was always foretold.

A balanced unity where each is as essential as the other, and appropriate in their presence. Love is still real."


"But Melissa, you will vow to "obey" him! "Obey!". In the service it says, "and obey"." She looks me in the eye, "You don't want to do that."

Me, "And he will "serve and cherish" me."


In our minds we, Ferg and I, understand these vows from where they dawned: 1662. When "obedience" was to clan, tribe, community and family. Where, as has always been the case, the women were the spiritual keepers of the clan, as the men were the pinnacle to the survival of  it. "Man" was guardian to the spiritual, just as "woman" was obedient to the survival and keeping of the people. All was in balance.

Recent times. The past several decades have seen a travesty in that "balance". A skew as the feminine power rose, the kundalini shifting from Tibet to South Amercia, the age indeed of Aquarius, has risen fear in the man and so it should...they have been denied the very power they need to hold.

"You are being dogmatic about this. I cannot change the service. I cannot change the words. You would say "and obey"." She's standing behind her desk now, going for authority in her body language and nervously picks at her underwear.


I gently concede, "If it is so disturbing to you, I'm happy for you to remove those two words."

"I can't change the service!"

"Then it is not I that is being dogmatic." I quietly say with a smile.

Her passionate war is her own as she leans in on Ferg, looking for his support...for only a second or two before she realizes...

Firmly, unhappily, she is absolute in her tone as she departs,

"I'm going to leave you to think about this. And I hope you do just that."



I hope we all do ;)



MH 2011
Postscript: not only did this minister do the 1662 for us on the day, but she did it magnificently with such sacred beauty and spiritual eloquence...I will always hold her dear to my heart :) M

The Wedding Approaches: Instalment Four

Just looked into a now crowded bathroom cabinet and discovered 6 different curl enhancing/defrizzing hair products. All new, used only once or twice each.

It makes absolute sense...

Its remarkably obvious and practical...

And yet still, despite the calm logic of a woman not prone to panicking, it has been an utterly irresistible force: The past few weeks has seen me trialling strange and wondrous "beauty" treatments, manicure technique and substances, hair products, hair tools, and more, that I have never tried before and have never had much interest in,

ever.

Yet, despite the ridiculousness of it, and somewhere within my absolute knowledge of this, I continue to venture into unknown territories. Needless to say I probably, right now, look terrible :)

Blessedly a greater force (perhaps "logic" itself ) stepped in and I have come to my senses.

Ok, it was seeing another bride looking tad uncomfortable at her own nuptials, who then asked me if I could work on her (see QBI page for details) to relieve her discomfort.

Ok, so it was more of a reality slap shaped in the cruel, open visuals of dry, red, patchy itching, oozing in-growneds, bright red scalp and oddly discoloured epidermis, crowned nicely by the distorted expression of "determined-to-be-a-princess" survival on the bride's face.

Aware of several friends intended to be married in the nearish future, I feel compelled to share a little learned wisdom so that these brides-to-be do not go to the alter worriedly patched, oozing and itching as the poor chick I helped last week:

If it works, don't fix it.

Just looked into a now crowded bathroom cabinet and discovered 6 different curl enhancing/defrizzing hair products. All new, used only once or twice each.

By nature a purger, I too stay true to what works...

and bin them :)

The Wedding Approaches: Instalment Three

"A three thousand dollar jewel..."


At my standard sprint pace I was gathering goods to leave the office for a series of appointments then the clinic.
"I'll do the banking if you like. I have a meeting there anyway about the merchant stuff..." I offer to Elaine. They look at me dubiously in the office. I continue, "You know, I do know how to deposit funds. I can handle it. So... this envelope?"

I have so much on. Let's face it, I always do :) This impending event, the blessed wedding, is frustrating me no end with its constant intrusion into an already strained schedule. God forbid when, like this week, people have jerked the chain on me: no-showing me and not calling, changing appointments last minute, various things not arriving as they were meant to (not least of all my bridal gown heading off on its own to France, apparently. Still don't have it).

Sure enough in my bag as I exit were several last minute wedding invitations to be jammed in the nearest postal reciprocal somewhere on my journey. I bolt from the office.

Ahem, well...I forgot to deposit the cash at the bank yesterday (don't tell Elaine!). This morning I frantically stripped my bag looking for the envelope... Did I put somewhere "safe"? I'm looking about the office, flinging stacks about, "Did they have no faith and take it themselves?" I text Elaine, in a disguised confession: "do you recall where I put that envelope...?"

Before she replies there is a knock at my door. The postman. He never comes to the door. Our mailbox is a significant and steep distance from our door...

"Can I help you?" I smile.
"I think I can help you actually." The postman says, "Looking for anything?"
Ok, a cryptic postie.
My true answer would have been , "Patience." However, before I could summon a polite response he procured an envelope.
An envelope with over $3000 cash in it and several cheques.
THE envelope.
"You posted this yesterday" he grinned

"What?!"
He chuckled at my astonishment.
"But, but...how?!"

Trying to get the mail in the mailbox before the 6pm pick up the night before, I had stopped at our local box, car still running and deposited the wedding invitations, before leaping back in. This postman saw me doing it as he was about to do the pick up.
"When I was pulling the mail out a few coins fell out of the pile you'd just put in, so I investigated. Lucky you had the return address on it!" (Bless you, Elaine, for your choice of envelope (disguised cash transportation). I shall never again laugh at the few coins you put in to be "absolutely exact".)
"Even luckier that I saw you, so when you answered the door I could return it."

Messy, exuberant gratitude gushed from me. I offered him cash reward which he had to refuse.

What great integrity this man had. It was mostly cash: no-one would have ever known if he had kept it. Yet not only did he return it, he went out of his way to do it. A good man :)

He left wishing us "all the best for our wedding" and for a moment I wondered "Is he psychic?" then recalled that the envelope had been disguised amid wedding invitations...sigh...

Invasive rite of passage is this wedding upon my usual schedule madness.
And what a jewel this man was amongst it :)

The Wedding Approachs: Instalment Two

"Ivory is close to Aubergine..."

I don't usually talk to people at the gym. I'm in and out, very focused when I'm there for I don't have a lot of spare time. But of course only last week...

"You have a gorgeous shape!"

Rivulets of sweat are running down my spine, the weight of the squat rack cutting the flesh on my shoulders (it ain't pretty when I'm training) as I lift my gaze to a warm, welcoming smile. I hook the rack up and run my hands self consciously over any lumpy bits,

"Thanks."

"I'm a dressmaker and your shape would be perfect to work on. Just so you know I'm not perving or anything. I just appreciate it." We both laugh.

At the time I remember thinking to myself "I so hope I don't need you"

Indiscernible packages arrived today. Covered in Chinese writing the only English word on them was "Shanghai"... What the?

Yes, that's right. I ordered the flower girl and bridesmaid dresses online.

They have arrived.

Ok, well some dresses have arrived. What I ordered wasn't what emerged from the packages.

There are two colours I have nothing to do with: ice blue and purple. ("Purple": even saying it sounds like you're puking) Both look rubbish anywhere near me and I return the favor. So as my excited seven year old and I tear apart the first bag what should rupture forth;

PURPLE!

"Oh Mum! Its SO beautiful!" She's dancing about delightedly, holding the dress to her.

"Oh dear god..." came my dismayed utterance

"What a wonderful surprise, Mum!"

"Wonderful..." with all the enthusiastic tone of a Monty Python "hooray". I grab up the "receipt" trying to make sense of it. "What the...?" Nothing.

"What's in the other bag, Mum?!"

With dread my eyes slip sideways toward the other package. Bridesmaid dresses. We brave it:

And once again, although right colour, completely foreign dresses to what was once ordered.

I hit the inbox, find the number and call them.

The person I had all my transactions with was "Sarah".

There had been no indication that they were coming from China. Or that "Sarah" has even less English than I have Cantonese.

"Sarah, I ordered the dresses in Ivory."

"Yes. Ivory. Yes. Yes." Within her voice she's smiling broadly.

"They're purple!"

"Aubergine."

"Excuse me?"

"The dress is Aubergine." Sarah's still smiling, evidently quite proud.

"No. No. On every receipt, every email they are ivory!"

"Ah well yes, ivory is very close to aubergine." I am informed with stoic authority.

"Ah, no its not. Ivory and aubergine are very different!"

"On our chart there are close....have look at website" Sure enough on their colour chart on the site for some obscure reason there is no sequential order in the colours; ivory is right next to aubergine. Regardless on every receipt, order form etc I had ordered "ivory".

"They are close."

"So is the wedding they are to be worn at, Sarah!" This isn't going anywhere...

Sigh...

My daughter now has the dress on and is spinning and twirling in front of the mirror, her delighted smile brighter than the aubergine itself. I can't help laughing. "Ivory is close to Aubergine."

I email our magnificent florist, a gifted artist, for somehow she will save this

"Elaine, a challenge in improvisation is upon us..."

Then search my bag for the card Imogen, the dressmaker at the gym, gave me. I don't usually speak to people at the gym...

I cannot help looking at the handmade beading and cringing at the thought of a six year old in a sweat shop slaving over my bargain dresses. Goddamn that! :(

"Improvise, adapt and overcome."

It was the catch cry when I was in Infantry in the Australian Army. I carry it through life. And it seems this approaching event is as tactical as any enemy contact I'd known before.

This wedding may well become a mastery in camouflage and concealment. :)

MH

The Wedding Approaches: Instalment One

Its so easy to forget what you're doing! There is such anticipation, such expectation upon a wedding I can now understand how easily one can forget they are actually getting married.

A month out from our own wedding and as expected all that is planned, ordered, organised and hoped for starts to intensify. And fall apart. And change. And unravel. And develop. And so much more. I should probably be devastated, a little traumatised, tantrum enhanced perhaps but the humour in this is just too rich... I have to share this journey.

And so you're welcome to join me over the next month.

I'll be doing it in instalments. Notifying through facebook, twitter and for those following on here. Hope you enjoy.

Instalment One:

The invitations that were meant to go out over three weeks ago have still not gone out. I find this out four weeks before the wedding through friends sending me casually worded text messages pointedly but not absolutely saying, "Just making sure you have our postal address. Here it is again..."

No invites. This is despite the "rush order" recommended (for a convenient extra $150, of course). On the website it states that the invitations will be delivered 5 working days after the approved print mock-up. This is reiterated to me upon a phone call to the company, fitted in between web design meetings, patient appointments, frantic meetings with financial team, school pick up...

"That mock up that was approved 4 weeks ago? Is that the mock up you're referring to?" I ask her. I'm driving the mobile office, hollering at the touch screen even though the microphone is up behind the rear view mirror because a visual helps you to be heard on a blue tooth apparently.

"Oh well, " I can hear her smiling,"we've had a long weekend in Victoria and that would have delayed the process."

"For three weeks?"

"Yes." She happily chirps.

"Uh, no. I'm afraid no." Couldn't help laughing, "Those invitations need to be out. Today."

"We can have them express post to you tomorrow."

"How about you express post them to the people invited? The addresses are on the envelopes."

"We don't provide that service, I'm afraid."

"Well...lucky you provide refunds and discounts, isn't it?" I'm smiling. She's appropriately wary now...the saga unfolds.

So text I resort to. I'm sending out text massages to all that I do have the numbers of (many relatives, friends, colleagues, etc, I do not ) just giving them the heads up of date and time. Feel free to text me if you feel I've lost your postal address too :)

Now there is a dignified wedding invite :) Text.

If the guests are lucky they may receive an invite in the mail while we're on our honeymoon, so they can revel in the joy of us married already.

In the meantime I think the wedding party are still coming. So at least there will be two of us.

MH