Category Archives: journal archive

March April 05

The last few months I’ve done some interesting research and development, a bit of living my life as the experiment it is. After years of bruxism (grinding my teeth in my sleep) and finally cracking a molar, I decided that perhaps it was time I did something about it. The best my dentist could offer was a mouth guard, but that seemed like a bandage solution to me, not really getting to the root cause of the issue. I’d been seeing an osteopath for a year and when problems in my jaw/neck region continued to plague me, she said, “This isn’t something physical; it’s a physical manifestation of something else.” I did intensive psychotherapy a few years ago and came to terms with a number of psycho-emotional issues and in my osteopath, I’d finally found the right person to fix my body, resolving a number of physical problems. What was left? The subconscious.

I’d had a hypnotherapy session last year, more out of curiosity than anything else. The specific focus of that session was past life regression, again, more out of curiosity than anything else. I came away unsure of what I thought about hypnotherapy or past lives, but it meant I had some first-hand experience of hypnosis, some idea of what it felt like and prior contact with a hypnotherapist I felt I could trust. No way would I let just anyone into my head!

So I called Frances and she assured me that hypnotherapy was a viable solution for my bruxism. In total, we had six sessions. Hypnotherapy works much more rapidly than conventional talk therapy, allowing access to long-buried memories that form the basis of who we are. Working in conjunction with my osteopath, the combined therapy was nothing short of magic. And ultimately, we resolved more than just the bruxism problem. On the way, we also discovered the root of some other physical issues that have been plaguing me with increased regularity for the last few years, as well as some deep-seated emotional issues. With childhood events, remembering and considering them from an adult perspective allows one to acknowledge their root and let it go. The problem simply isn’t a problem anymore.

Potentially trickier territory is the past-life arena. Part of me thinks okay, I’m a writer, I have a vivid imagination, I’m just telling myself stories; but another part of me wants to accept that these are indeed memories from previous lives. While in a hypnotic state, a couple of times I started describing things that made no sense to my conscious mind. My hypnotherapist urged my conscious mind to back off and just allow my unconscious to describe what it was seeing. On one of these occasions, it was an activity that she was familiar with, even though I’d never heard of it and didn’t know what it was. Interesting. And the present-life bruxism seems to be the result of an injury to my jaw some five hundred years ago. Perhaps I am telling myself stories, but then how do I explain the positive physical changes which subsequently occurred? Even if they’re just stories, they’re plainly stories I need to tell myself to heal.

So, do I believe in past lives? In reincarnation? Well, why not? The universe is essentially composed of energy and energy tends to flow and recycle. Doesn’t it make sense that sometimes it manifests physically and other times not, that the essence of who we are flits in and out of bodies, learning, growing, moving on? It’s a story I can tell myself that makes as much sense as any other. And quite frankly, I prefer that to the story that says this is it; a story that always struck me as promoting a certain unhealthy desperation about hanging onto this life at all costs.

And do I believe in hypnotherapy? Undoubtedly. It’s proven to be miraculously beneficial in resolving issues which were preventing me from healing and moving forward. Somehow, seeing myself as a small part of the grand scheme of things helped me see the bigger picture, helped me recognize the pettiness of some things that were annoying me, enabling me to let them go and turn my focus and energy to more meaningful pursuits. Anything that can create that kind of positive change is obviously beneficial. Would I recommend it? Absolutely, as long as you’re comfortable with the practitioner.

Catherine Jenkins 2005

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Jan – Feb 05

A couple of years ago, I remember becoming quite aware of the erosion of the middle-class, how the populace was rapidly dividing into haves and have-nots with not much in between. As that’s where I’ve generally resided, it was quite startling to realize that, as an artist in a society where artists are undervalued, I was rapidly sinking into the class of have-nots. Although I continue to struggle with this, things have been improving and so perhaps I’ve become a little less conscious of this division.

What I’ve noticed more recently, is the erosion of the middle ground, how the populace is rapidly becoming polarized either on the extreme right or the extreme left with not much in between. The 2004 American election is a prime example; the country’s virtually split down the middle, with those on the extreme right bearing arms and those on the extreme left moving north to Canada.

I’ve also noticed an increasing number of vegetarian restaurants, organic foods on the shelves of grocery store chains and not only blue, but now green boxes on curbs, while at the same time hearing news about the ban on Canadian beef, the safety of genetically altered food products and the amount of waste North Americans create and percentage of energy we consume.

As I say, there seems to be a profound polarization, but mostly, I’ve felt really proud to be Canadian this past Christmas season. Canadians gave record amounts to charitable causes instead of subscribing to the typical consumerism that predominantly American businesses shove down our throats. And maybe it was just me avoiding the malls, but I even felt that stores had less Christmas paraphernalia for sale. Many Canadians also chucked their artificial Christmas trees in favour of the traditional live tree and some (like myself) bought potted trees, which hopefully will survive for many Christmases to come. My apartment building got on the bandwagon by installing new water-reduction toilets, shower heads and faucets, just in time for the holidays. I think my sense that I’m on the same wavelength as many other Canadians, has made me feel less marginalized in other ways.

But there’s always more we could do to make our lives more authentic, more conscious, throughout the year; things we can do on a daily basis to in some small way change the world and bring it closer to our personal ideal. For instance, simplifying our lives by simplifying our living environment, recycling or discarding unnecessary stuff. This is something I’m continually working toward, but I still have a way to go. And I’ve realized that when one has a plethora of interests, there’s a tendency to accumulate a plethora of stuff, however, I believe I can reduce quite a bit without losing my trademark clutteredness and I know I’ll feel a lot better for it.

Jeanette Winterson says, “What you eat is the most political thing you can do every day,” and she may be right. Buying locally grown food helps support your local economy. Buying organic helps support a healthier planet. Both enable you to eat fresher, healthier food you can feel good about. Personally, I find cooking, the act of preparing a meal, even if it’s just for myself, very uplifting, creative and calming. Although admittedly I wrestle with the cost issue (organic food in my neighborhood is usually three to four times the cost of mass produced pseudo-food I can buy at the chain grocery store), I keep reminding myself that the greater the demand, the more ready the supply will become and eventually costs should adjust somewhat. Also, you get what you pay for; do you want to consume cheap food if it’s laced with pesticides, raping the soil and keeping suppressed workers suppressed?

I try to buy environmentally friendly household products (i.e., toilet paper, cleansers, detergents, etc.) that aren’t animal tested. There seems to be enough of a market, that the cost of environmentally friendly products is often on par with commercial products from corporations I’d rather not support. Such products are often easier not only on the environment, but also on me and my cats. I recently read that one of the most revolutionary environmental statements one can make is to go back to using a cloth hanky. How many boxes of tissues do you go through in a year?

In my small home office, I generally print paper on both sides (an advantage of an ink jet over a laser printer) and use recycled paper and envelopes. When I’ve used my paper to maximum advantage, I shred it and put it out for further recycling. I wish offices of a more significant size would subscribe to such practices or at least make hefty donations to replanting trees. In some small way they should help make up for the tonnage of new, virgin forest products they go through every year.

With events in Asia at the end of 2004, enormous attention and aid have gone into that region. From reports coming back, at least some of the aid is getting to where it’s needed. It’s great to see the world pulling together in the wake of such a catastrophic natural event, even though there have been political rumblings of various sorts. Now I’m hearing reports that farmers want to return to farming, that fishermen want to return to the sea, but they still lack land, boats and housing. I hope that once the spotlight’s off, these people won’t be forgotten, that international relief efforts won’t cease once the primary crisis has passed. Aid will be required in this region for some time to come as survivors try to reclaim their lives. I hope you’ve made or will make whatever donation your finances allow to one of the many organizations supporting efforts in this region.

While natural disasters remind us that we aren’t really in control of everything, loss of habitat, usually caused by human ignorance, maliciousness or lack of caring, is the primary threat to many animal species. Again, if your finances allow, I urge you to find some way to support pro-animal causes. My personal choice for years has been the World Wildlife Fund (www.wwf.org internationally or www.wwf.ca in Canada). The presence of animals on the planet makes us more human, more conscious of our status as animals and more conscious of our need to take better care of the earth. At the moment and for quite some time to come, she’s the only planet we’ve got!

And I will continue to support the arts and artists through the various types of work I do and by buying books, attending performances, going to galleries, etc. Why? Because the arts are essential to a quality life, essential for interpreting the world, our emotions and thoughts. The arts are essential for communicating with other members of our species, for leaving something to future generations. Because without the arts, personally, I wouldn’t find life worth living.

Wishing you all a happy, healthy, prosperous 2005. I think this has the potential to be a truly great year.

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Nov – Dec 2004

Ah yes. Once again ’tis the season for copious consumption, conspicuous overindulgence, capacious extremity in all things. We are, after all, a consumer society. We live to spend money, exist to make enough to pay off the post-celebratory bills.

In seasons past, I’ve presented a book list at this time of obligatory gift-giving. If one is to give a gift, I believe a book is a valuable gift to give. A book comments on the commitment the giver has to the givee, shows a genuine interest in the givee’s passions, activities, growth and entertainment. A book creates a lasting bond between the giver and the givee. Both my parents have books they have lovingly cherished for decades, remembering not only a favoured poem or passage, but also that the book was given by Granny or bought for school at some sacrifice. Books have an intrinsic value. If you must buy gifts, buy books.

But this year, I’m heading in a different direction. I live in a city where consumers seem to discard usable furniture, clothing, objects and food with ease. I live on a continent where mass consumerism shouts from billboards, televisions, the Internet, magazines. I live in a place where we are valued for what we consume, where overconsumption keeps the economy rolling, where frugality is viewed with distain as some kind of peasant suffering.

When I review my Christmas list, no one on it is particularly suffering. They all have roofs over their heads and food in their bellies. They have clothes on their backs and books on their shelves. And generally, they have much, much more besides. Most of their wishes, their desires for specific objects have also already been fulfilled. Really, what do they need that I could give them?

So this year, I’m changing strategies. Money I would normally spend on gifts for people who don’t really need them, whose homes are already cluttered with stuff, is instead going to charity. I’m looking for worthy causes in their neighbourhoods or in Canada or around the world so I can give a little money to something worthwhile, to someone who will genuinely appreciate it because they have so little, to something that will help make the world a better place. I’ll send cards telling people on my list who I’ve donated to in their name and I hope they’ll understand.

I urge you to do something similar. Just think, if all the money we’re expected to spend at Christmas was streamed into something of genuine value, something that really mattered, what a difference we could make. Happy Holidays to all and loving wishes for a peaceful New Year.

© Catherine Jenkins 2004

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Sept Oct 2004

May-June Journal //Top Navigational Bar III (By BrotherCake @ cake@brothercake.net) //Permission granted/modified by Dynamicdrive.com to include script in archive //For this and 100’s more DHTML scripts, visit http://www.dynamicdrive.com   Journal

September – October 2004

I need to edit my apartment. I’ve decided that’s the most productive way I can think of it. And it’s not a light copy edit, the clean, easy, do-as-I-go edit of The Obsessions of Yoyo Zaza; it’s the taxing, arduous, slash-and-burn edit of Swimming in the Ocean. Too much material, awkwardly compiled over too long a period. An editing nightmare.

This is the spring cleaning I didn’t do in the spring, the new year’s cleaning I didn’t do in the new year. It’s a combination of too many moves without enough time or energy in between to sort, compounded by eight years of sitting in the same apartment without enough time or energy to sort. I’m not looking forward to this. Can you tell?

The only time I’ve gotten the moving in thing right, was when I went to Ottawa. My first apartment there, I took a solid week to unpack and arrange, to really move in. I discovered that once my abode is properly moved into, I can maintain it with ease. But usually I don’t have the luxury of time to really move in; I certainly didn’t here and so, eight years later, I’m still finding boxes to unpack.

Why now? The primary motivation is that beginning in October, I’ll be conducting a series of creative writing workshops in my living room (see www.solidus.ca/workshops for details). That’s compounded by it being September. For the first time ever, I didn’t have a sudden strong urge to buy school supplies, but there is a sense of returning to some kind of order, some regularity. And it’s still further compounded by observing my octogenarian parents’ own sorting and culling process, watching my Dad wrestle with whether to keep or recycle his notes from a 1953 French class. I don’t want to be doing that at his age, but I know my packrat mentality has a genetic component, so it seems almost inevitable.

It’s not that I necessarily value all the stuff I collect. Some of it I obviously do, but most of it just follows me home or is the result of working on manuscripts (mine and other people’s). There are piles of paper everywhere and it takes time to decide what’s of current value. I can always think of a myriad of other things I’d rather be doing.

I don’t like living in this; entropy just seems to happen around me. I’m ashamed of the mess and don’t want anyone else to see it. If my friends sometimes wonder why they’re so rarely invited around, this is why. For some reason, my friends are all minimalist neat-freaks, fastidious organizers and cleaners. It makes me very self-conscious of my chaotic space. I am, at heart, a minimalist too, but I’ve never yet been able to achieve that state of grace in my surroundings. When I’m working intensely on a manuscript, my desk and chair become like a cockpit I climb into over a horseshoe-shaped pile of books and papers. Debris collects around me without my conscious recognition, dishes pile up in the sink, garbage cans overflow, cat hair dust bunnies openly parade across my floors. At some point I become aware of this, usually after the creative fervour runs its course, and it’s always a sudden perception, a rude awakening, accompanied by a sense of disgust.

Especially when I’m writing, I spend little time in my body; I become a thought with hands and eyes. But it goes beyond that. Generally I spend very little time in the physical and it’s only when I think of how others might perceive this mess that I become conscious of it. “Hell is other people.” It’s a very Sartrian moment. I live alone and that’s part of it too. If I shared space, I’d be chronically conscious of how others perceived it and would do my part to maintain it (unless, of course, I was in the throes of creative passion).

A few years ago, I also realized that beyond the time/energy excuse, the underlying stumbling block is a psychology of long-term poverty. I feel a need to hang onto whatever I have, because I can’t afford to replace it. I’ve tended to hoard stuff as a twisted kind of security blanket. Now for some things, small appliances for instance, that makes sense, but it makes none for the piles of paper and straightforward junk currently littering my abode. In the last few years, I’ve also become acutely aware of the need to make room for things. It’s difficult for positive, constructive change to muscle through the door when there’s a dusty box of papers blocking it. Energy stagnates and collects dust too if it isn’t properly cared for. Room must be made for the new.

As once suggested by my friend Spencer, perhaps I should consider a more William Morris approach: “Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.”

It’s been a difficult year, but I feel like a page is turning. Things are very busy, packed right now. It’s a transitional period. I can see in the next short while things will settle into a new pattern, still busy, but more clearly defined and simpler. I can feel a freshening breeze rising. I need to make space to breathe it in. It’s definitely time to edit my apartment.

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July Aug 2004

Some time ago, I purchased tickets for my now annual jaunt to the Shaw Festival in Niagara-on-the-Lake. After a difficult winter, I was really looking forward to the time out, the time away, then it was suddenly upon me! This week, I took a well-earned break and am feeling much better for it.

It started with a reasonably pleasant drive to NOTL. I have the use of my folks’ car this summer, so was able to listen to CHUM-FM Oldies all the way. Not necessarily my first choice, but fun nevertheless. I didn’t really begin to unwind until I spied my first winery sign, followed by several fruit stands. I knew I was getting close. I got into town with enough time to browse a few of the expensive shops. NOTL is priced for American retirees, still, it’s pleasant to look.

I indulged in dinner at The Shaw Village before the show. I was pleased to note that the rather affronting Leather Shop, which previously existed behind the statue of the ardent vegetarian GBS, had gone. That store has now given over to candles and spa paraphernalia, similar to the site’s original use. Apparently one Henry Pafford (I hope I’ve spelled that correctly. As usual, it was difficult to read my notes.) once established an apothecary and candle shop there. However, I was somewhat amazed that the Shaw Village Café and Wine Bar still serves a Shaw Burger, featuring “half a pound of lean ground beef.” Ah, well. I keep wondering how GBS would’ve reacted.

I sat inside, looking through open French doors, enjoying a Portobello Mushroom with melted Brie, red pepper and onion jam, accompanied by the recommended Kir Royale and really started to relax. I enjoyed the sky, the day, the old trees, the new flowers, jazz playing in the background. Most of the other patrons were old, the staff young; my demographic, almost unique in this atmosphere. I watched the waiter wire patio chairs and tables together so they couldn’t escape… I listened to old folks laughing… I caught an elderly man smiling at me over his wife’s shoulder as he popped the last strawberry into his mouth, while I accidentally slurped my water like a twelve-year-old.

For my main course, I had Mixed Limed Greens with a Chicken Breast, the flaked coconut an unexpected surprise and lovely additional flavour, accompanied by the recommended Riesling. Because I’d gone light on the entrée, I treated myself to a Chocolate Raspberry Tart with a Café au Lait for desert. Normally I eat pretty hand-to-mouth; NOTL is my annual treat, my chance to indulge guilt-free, but only because I choose to leave my guilt at home.

Of course I’m writing all this down as I’m doing it. I always fantasize that the wait staff thinks I’m a food critic when I write while dining. A little Monsieur Pamplemousse moment (a series of comic gastronomic mysteries by Michael Bond… excellent summer reading fare!).

Pleasantly satiated, I walked across the street for my first play, The Importance of Being Earnest. It was a wonderful production of this perfectly constructed comedy, with fast pacing, brilliant timing and a lot of laughs. Although a period piece, many of Wilde’s observations are so accurate, they’re timeless.

I wouldn’t have minded an herbal tea after the show, but not finding anyplace open, I settled for a short walk instead, then went back to the B&B for the best night’s sleep I’ve had in months. I slept later than usual, had a leisurely breakfast and chat with my hostess, Lynn, and then was on my way again.

I got to the theatre about 11 a.m. for an 11:30 start and just missed the last parking space, but was able to find another fairly close by. Everything’s close by in NOTL. My second feature was an event: the complete version of Man & Superman including the Don Juan in Hell sequence… about six hours of play, including two intermissions and a lunch break. Wonderful! Brilliant! Although not all the attendant audience would agree. It was clear from snatches of conversation during breaks, that a few felt put-upon at having to wade through such a long production. So why did they buy these tickets when Shaw is also producing the truncated version of Man & Superman without the play-within-a-play?

Shaw is brilliant! This play, billed by Shaw himself as “A Comedy and A Philosophy” is packed. Now I have to sit down and read it, because I know there were points and arguments I’d like to mull over. Shaw was a mature person and writer when he created this play and his observations of humanity are painfully accurate, yet he consistently writes in a manner that makes us laugh at ourselves. It’s taken me a while to understand how humour is the most disarming and sharpest tool for getting inside people’s heads and under their skins, for getting them to understand unpleasant or difficult things.

And while watching Man & Superman I kept wondering how audiences of the early nineteen-aughts would’ve reacted. I’m certain it must’ve caused quite a stir. Not only was this playwright audacious enough to contrive a six hour play, he also created intelligent female characters and placed members of the clergy in Hell! Simultaneously, I was amazed at how incredibly relevant much of its content still is. That kind of longevity is the mark of true creative genius.

After the play, I wound back to Toronto, feeling elated and relaxed, thought-provoked and creative! It was a wonderful and much-needed respite, an opportunity to think, to recharge and get my priorities back in order.

Since my return, I have not cleaned my apartment, sorted out my balcony, done any commercial work or worried about family matters. Instead, I’ve caught some plays at the Toronto Fringe Festival, gone to a BBQ with my Mum and Dad, read mystery novels, lain in the sun, eaten fruit, played with the cats, drunk cheap wine, relaxed and slept. For almost a whole week. And I honestly don’t remember the last time I did anything so indulgent. It’s certainly been well over a year. Now I’m feeling revved up and ready to get back to my own writing and all the usual stuff (see above), but relieved of much energy wasting stress and worry.

© Catherine Jenkins 2004

 

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