I can't trace exactly where I began a keen interest in living life in a contained way. My family ran a business and we lived on the property. This meant that 'home life' wasn't like the family life that most children experience. I suspect the roots of my interest lie somewhere in there.
When I met my husband I met Uncle Jack and that's where I learned about his time in Changi. I remember paying great interest to any information I could gather about his imprisonment through the war. Technically, he should have been killed because he was a bit outspoken back then and on at least one occasion a fellow prisoner had to save him from imminent death because he was on the cusp of speaking back to a Japanese official.
What I was most impressed about was that he had the mental strength to endure the ordeal. Two years ago, we went to visit his wife (Jack was in a nursing home by then but his wife was still visiting him every second day and bringing him home - a Herculean feat for her too) and she gave my youngest son a copy of the speech that Jack had given, detailing his capture. Finally, we had the details because Jack wasn't one to sit us around and tell us things about his war experience. He'd rather play host to us and fill us with his well stocked liquor cabinet while his darling wife filled us with roast lamb and rice pudding for dessert.
I do recall a story about him being held in a very small space; a coffin, of sorts. And, I remember seeing this sort of captivity in a Western movie as well. I just couldn't imagine this sort of extreme experience. I didn't understand how someone could survive it.
Not so long after my last son was born, I was experiencing lots of pain in my lower back. One day it got so painful that I simply walked into the chiropractic office that I often passed in the car and asked if they could help me. Apparently, there was some arthritis sitting there at the base of my spine and they recommended Pilates to stretch me out and strengthen my core muscles to keep the lower back strong.
A friend saw me having a coffee up at the shops one day near to the Club we belong to and she asked me to sign a petition to have Pilates classes there. I happily signed, the classes began and I have been going there ever since, at least once a week in term time.
I was very interested to learn that Pilates was begun, it seems, by a person who was confined; imprisoned was the story I heard. He devised exercises he could do in a very small space to keep himself fit. There is something about exercising on a mat that really speaks to me. In the smallest possible space, I can work my whole body. Then, when the class is over, I can lie on the mat and listen to the soothing music that is played to us and let my mind drift away to nothingness. I just adore that time.
This is a time when it is not at all uncommon for me to imagine that 'doll' state. I imagine that all the 'holes' are plugged and that my mind is quite empty. It is a rather sexually oriented experience for me because it takes me to a sense of having my body used at the same time as I have a feeling of being at great peace. I blend the two experiences/thoughts into one. Sex = peace.
This is my mindset. In my earlier life, I'm not sure that I equated sex with peace. I do know that an intense sexual experience made me exuberantly happy with an ecstatic feeling of being alive. It is only in recent years that I have equated sex with a deep peace.
I know my husband would dearly love for me to take more responsibility for initiating sex. God knows I have tried but my very natural disposition is to be taken; to be captured. When I am taken and plundered, I process that as a deep peace. I sink down; bunker down. Maybe that relates to my thoughts all my life about containment. Maybe, my mentor hypnotized me over the chat box to believe these things. It is more likely, I suspect, that he brought out thoughts that were already there and that's why I took them like a duck to water.
My body looks to be used. My mind is always considering ways to live a small but wondrous life. Containment is my preoccupation.
When I met my husband I met Uncle Jack and that's where I learned about his time in Changi. I remember paying great interest to any information I could gather about his imprisonment through the war. Technically, he should have been killed because he was a bit outspoken back then and on at least one occasion a fellow prisoner had to save him from imminent death because he was on the cusp of speaking back to a Japanese official.
What I was most impressed about was that he had the mental strength to endure the ordeal. Two years ago, we went to visit his wife (Jack was in a nursing home by then but his wife was still visiting him every second day and bringing him home - a Herculean feat for her too) and she gave my youngest son a copy of the speech that Jack had given, detailing his capture. Finally, we had the details because Jack wasn't one to sit us around and tell us things about his war experience. He'd rather play host to us and fill us with his well stocked liquor cabinet while his darling wife filled us with roast lamb and rice pudding for dessert.
I do recall a story about him being held in a very small space; a coffin, of sorts. And, I remember seeing this sort of captivity in a Western movie as well. I just couldn't imagine this sort of extreme experience. I didn't understand how someone could survive it.
Not so long after my last son was born, I was experiencing lots of pain in my lower back. One day it got so painful that I simply walked into the chiropractic office that I often passed in the car and asked if they could help me. Apparently, there was some arthritis sitting there at the base of my spine and they recommended Pilates to stretch me out and strengthen my core muscles to keep the lower back strong.
A friend saw me having a coffee up at the shops one day near to the Club we belong to and she asked me to sign a petition to have Pilates classes there. I happily signed, the classes began and I have been going there ever since, at least once a week in term time.
I was very interested to learn that Pilates was begun, it seems, by a person who was confined; imprisoned was the story I heard. He devised exercises he could do in a very small space to keep himself fit. There is something about exercising on a mat that really speaks to me. In the smallest possible space, I can work my whole body. Then, when the class is over, I can lie on the mat and listen to the soothing music that is played to us and let my mind drift away to nothingness. I just adore that time.
This is a time when it is not at all uncommon for me to imagine that 'doll' state. I imagine that all the 'holes' are plugged and that my mind is quite empty. It is a rather sexually oriented experience for me because it takes me to a sense of having my body used at the same time as I have a feeling of being at great peace. I blend the two experiences/thoughts into one. Sex = peace.
This is my mindset. In my earlier life, I'm not sure that I equated sex with peace. I do know that an intense sexual experience made me exuberantly happy with an ecstatic feeling of being alive. It is only in recent years that I have equated sex with a deep peace.
I know my husband would dearly love for me to take more responsibility for initiating sex. God knows I have tried but my very natural disposition is to be taken; to be captured. When I am taken and plundered, I process that as a deep peace. I sink down; bunker down. Maybe that relates to my thoughts all my life about containment. Maybe, my mentor hypnotized me over the chat box to believe these things. It is more likely, I suspect, that he brought out thoughts that were already there and that's why I took them like a duck to water.
My body looks to be used. My mind is always considering ways to live a small but wondrous life. Containment is my preoccupation.
I enjoyed this post a lot. I've had a post titled "Confinement" sitting in my drafts for a while, so seeing the title of this one spoke to me. I've always had whatever the opposite of claustrophobia is. Claustrophilia? Upon looking that up, yes, that's it.
ReplyDeleteYou've inspired me go back and add more to that post.
Conina: I hope you do finish the post. It sounds worthwhile for you to do so. I didn't know there was such a thing as claustrophilia. I am not sure that I have that but for some years now I have felt that there is wisdom to be found in those that live some sort of confined life. It could be someone who is bound to a confined space through illness or by design. It could be someone who is imprisoned like Nelson Mendalla. They experience something that most of us don't and in so doing they acquire some sort of wisdom/strength/clarity that most of us don't. I'm intrigued by the lives of monks and nuns and the people of the Himalayas... all those sorts of seemingly small lives but lives lived with an acceptance and a certain kind of knowing and understanding of life at its core level. Wow! This has really helped me because I see the existentialism I'm studying and the thoughts about applying that to writing seems to be seeping through my pores. I'm going to think (and write) more about this.
ReplyDeleteI wonder how many people are able to stop and think these days? I mean really think. Our lives are such a hurry and even when we are resting our entertainment seems designed to encourage a shorter and shorter attention span and a shallow, consumerist view on life. I can't remember the last time I just stopped to take it all in.
ReplyDeleteOf course the conspiracy theorist would suggest that's exactly what those in power want of the masses: stressed out zombies. Well to a large degree they have their wish.
Perhaps those who lived simple lives working the land in times past were more able to see the bigger picture? For me, getting out of the house on time with my wallet and car keys seems to require some sort of panetary alignment these days.
More power to you for seeking the quiet road. Keep sending us these postcards along the way. :)
RollyMo
I had the honour as a teenager of knowing a gentleman who survived the Japanese prisoner of war camps of World War II where he was put to work building the Burma Railway. I'm told he was a tall, strapping lad when he first served in the forces but life in those camps changed him in ways that were impossible to repair and forever afterwards he remained thin to the point of emaciation. He was a man who had an incredible zest for life and was full of fun. Like your Uncle Jack he never spoke of his times as a POW. I suspect he simply closed the book on that part of his life in order to move on. Australians, Brits, Americans and most Europeans owe their freedom to the likes of him, who served so bravely in the many campaigns of those dark times.
ReplyDeleteUltimately we are all remembered for our deeds. Let's never forget those who gave so generously.
rollymo: Perhaps it is the writer in me. I have always tended to be a spectator rather than a participator of life. My boss said that of me. "You're too much like me," he said. "You tend to spectate life rather than participate in it." We are/were both inclined to be introverts who pushed ourselves to participate rather than had a strong inclination to socialize. And, my writing course encourages reflection. We are talking Camus and existentialism at the moment so it does make one stop and think. But, even 'awareness' is good. "I am getting ready to go to work. I am gathering my wallet and my keys. I am calmly doing that." It sounds silly but you'll notice a difference in a few days.
ReplyDeleteI imagine many war prisoners never recover and Jack remained introverted, calm and quiet. I think he really enjoyed life in his own quiet way. He was able to stay "in the air" so to speak all his working life and that made a big difference. He tried to steal a Japanese plane and that's when he got caught. His love was flying.