standing on tradition

Today I had the honour to be present at a special gathering of women that meet each year to celebrate familial and friendship ties. I think such gathering of women are fairly absent these days where there is a strong intra-generational bonds.

There were bountiful plates of home-made delicious food, plenty of alcoholic drinks between courses, trills of laughter and rich story telling. The bonds were unmissable as was the depth of support and love between these women. I was there to photograph the event - but made to feel most welcome amongst this female clan.

The event made me remember a beautiful book I picked up many years ago called "The 13 Original Clan Mothers" written by Jamie Sams, a native american. The book is rich in sharing the truth of an ancient feminine wisdom tradition. The first chapter is about "Talks with Relations", the clan mother of the first moon cycle, and speaks about learning the truth through finding kinship with all life. She writes "Kinship speaks of having right relations with the Creative Force, with the Self, our Spiritual Essences, with our bodies, with family, friends, (and) worthy opponents. These relationships can become loving, productive situations that offer us opportunities to exchange ideas or sharing, with unity , in order to grow in truth. Talks with Relations welcomes all life forms into her Clan. She sees beauty of each and honours the talents each holds."

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Flying Solo Tip 079365 : When we are open to the wisdom of tradition, we are able to forge a path for positive change.

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free verse friday

Its been a roller coaster week, so to close off, I have tapped into my poetry archives to share another free verse previously unshared.

A Lament No-One Has Heard

I

THE CARNIVAL

Come to the carnival

and watch the animals play

and clowns do tricks

while I eat a lollipop on a sugary scented stick.

Hurry!

Come to the carnival and watch

life stop

for a short, short festive day.

Running here and there

The Worker said "Don't have time to stop"

'... But there are animals doing tricks'

"Before the deadline?

got to meet the deadline."

"Another drink here and one over there"

Said a Fool at the bar,

as he stumbled over a stool

thinking he's got to get home

before his wife bars the door.

She always goes to bed at ten

with an alcoholic snoring beer

into her pretty, pretty ear.

He's a jester loving to play around

when his wife ain't there.

"Got a stick, man

need to pop my pills before ...

before I shake

rattle and rock and roll"

"You don't look look as though you smoke.

You look too young and innocent."

"Come on man, I'm beggin' you, need a stick

cause the carnivals in town!"

Whirling and rushing around

running here and there

playing a scenario with someone else's friend

lots to hide in the back scenes

but the performance is always good -

Routine and illusion

Yeah, the actors know their parts

when the carnival's in town,

II

SONG OF THE LAKE

How quiet it's here,

near the lake

away from a maddening crowd.

Quite alone in the silent world

beyond that pathetic town.

Trying to find my karma -

the natural way.

Trying to harmonise

with the seductive song of the lake.

Rhythmic rushing sounds

Water slapping onto distant shore.

Mosquitoes buzz slowly round

In a hypnotic annoying way.

A nightingale weeps a plaintive cry

to the dying sun

An owl heralds the rising moon

while day slips into the night.

I wish upon a falling star

that life could always be this way,

until I think how great it'd be

to listen to the song of the lake -

stoned -

while the mists roll in.

III

THE WEEPER'S SON

He drowned in the lake

the Weeper's son.

Adonis of manhood

Broad shoulders gleaming bare

His eyes were so dark.

I remember how they shined

and stirred the loins of my love

the nights he slept in my bed.

What a shame.

He is gone.

I nearly fell in love.

They never found his body,

I hear,

only an empty corkless bottle of rum

washed upon the heart of a stony shore.

Such a waste of creative life -

all gone -

when he drowned in that insipid lake.

When the carnival next comes to town,

Who will remember

The Weeper's son?

IV

HARPERS

They played at his funeral

a sad and melancholic tune

and everyone came -

The Worker

The Fool

The Addicted

And, the Weeper was there too,

howling a pitiful lament.

I don't think she had ever cared

until he was gone.

And, I was there -

I think I was stoned.

All our hearts saddened

when we heard the harpers play.

I don't know how long the harps cried

and strung a sorrowful tune.

It seemed like an eternity that lasted all day.

And, when it was all over,

The Worker went shopping

He'd gotten the day off work;

and the Fool found a pub nearby

and drank himself into raucous song;

And the Addicted went scouting

for an itch to be scratched;

and The Weeper cried

(and she still does)

for forgiveness for the things that she had done.

On the contrary, the Harpers were a happy lot

for they were handsomely paid

to make our hearts break asunder.

And I,

I found some speed

on a friend of a friend of someone else's friend

and made sure I would forget about the Weeper's son.

V

HUNTING

My lover has gone.

He is dead.

He's almost forgotten, except

when I listen to the song of the lake.

Now I am looking for another

At some decadent party or suave soiree,

slathering on airs of false seduction,

lingering in carnal conversations

planting seeds

dashed with double entendre and play.

I want to go hunting

and not be hunted

by some pathetic lover.

VI

THE SEASONS

The seasons pass (almost unnoticed)

I can barely remember the days,

but the nights are clear recollections -

For they were all the same.

Lying on my bed, watching the carnival

pass by my window sill

with the Weeper's son by my side,

smoking pot or taking speed

then making love

before falling asleep.

Now the season has passed.

He is gone.

Everyone has a season

that transpires into another.

The Worker he got a holiday

and ventured to Singapore

cause you can do plenty of shopping there.

The Fool, the poor drunk bastard

lost his wife to another.

She said she was going deaf

and preferred a woman's touch.

The Addicted, kept obsessing

Casting a plethora of reasons,

Any excuse to keep on snorting.

The Weeper cried herself dry

and goes to a grave every day

to lay a tribute of wild flowers

at the place where his feet are meant to be.

The Harpers formed a rock and roll band

and travel up and down the coast.

And I,

I've grown cynical about the carnival

and don't like being a part of it

anymore.

I rarely think of my season

with the Weeper's son.

I snared another lover to share my bed,

but his eyes are blue and he has a scar

in the middle of his back.

He laughs when I speak of the carnival ...

so I have learnt to ....

But I must finish here,

that's for another story as they say.

And the seasons roll on in quiet despair.

Maybe,

One day I'll sing with the song of the lake

with an uncorked bottle of rum in one arm

and then go midnight swimming

and feel the beautiful song

slapping between my thighs

And the harmonious tune

will quietly drown my senses.

For some strange reason

I remember a season past

and now I recall with hard toffee bitterness

a lament that no-one has heard ...

The Weeper's son is dead.

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Flying Solo Tip 078365 : Do not let your life's story become a lament. Express yourself.

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M.I.A.

It has been a strange week. Four of my customers have gone missing in action. One was supposed to drop by on Tuesday evening with some products that they wanted to be photographed urgently - he did not show and in spite of sending them messages I have not heard from them. Another was supposed to send me some products by mail but they have not yet arrived. They are supposed to be photographed and edited by close of business on Friday. One was going to call early this week to set up a photoshoot for later this week ... hmmmm and another just didn't show for their appointment.

I don't think I have ever had such a "no show" week. In the past I would have followed up each of these customers, feeling responsible for making their photoshoots happen. As much as my assumed potential earnings for the week has taken a substantial beating, and that is concerning, I no longer allow myself to be stressed so much by the behaviours of others. At the end of the day, I am part of the service chain, and have to accept that my customers priorities can change in an instant with or without notice.

Unpredictable income is probably one of the greatest stressors as a freelance photographer (or any other freelance creative). It is probably one of the major reasons why many photographers do not dedicate all their energy and resources to their craft, but sustain their financial commitments by working part time or full time jobs and the photography becomes a side venture.

This week has really brought to light an issue that has been nagging at me quite a lot these past months and one that I still have not settled on a resolution - and that is developing a passive income stream. Investopedia defines passive income as "earnings an individual derives from a rental property, limited partnership or other enterprise in which he or she is not actively involved." Popular culture, however, defines it as "any money you earn while sitting on a beach sipping mojitos." Any development of a passive income stream requires considerable up front work and investment but the idea is that once established that the work commitment become minimal. I definitely need to safeguard myself for weeks like this week, or those times when my chronic health issues flare and my capacity to work is diminished.

One of the positives from this week's debacles is that because I had scheduled time to do these photoshoots, I found myself today in a position to do some business administration and paperwork which has been wanting some attention the past couple of weeks. Perhaps the missed opportunities this week, have been the way for the universe to create some time for me to also focus on these important matters.

I remain positive that in the coming weeks that I will attract the customers and work to meet my personal financial commitments. However, I also have a streak of pragmatism and have never counted my chickens until the eggs have hatched. However, I do need to do some work on the business and come up with a better plan so that even if the eggs don't hatch I can still have omelettes for breakfast.

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Flying Solo Tip 077365 : There is no issue with trusting or depending on others, but self-reliance remains one of the greatest assets to running your own business.

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