Solstice to Solstice - a journey of many transitions

It's been almost exactly a year since I posted a blog.  I'm tempted to wonder where that year went.... but as I pause and reflect, the answers are enough to fill many posts.  It has been a year of inward journey.  After 2 years of exploring the world .... Guatemala, India, Nepal ... I have spent the last one exploring my inner world, growing myself, building fertile soil for my next journey.

There is something powerful about the solstice to mark times of transition.  I left for Guatemala on Winter Solstice, 2009.  I returned to British Columbia exactly six months later, on Summer Solstice.   It is two summer solstices later, and I am again called to reflect on the transitions and what is unfolding before me.

This past year has been one of profound paradox for me.  Developing myself as a professional consultant while simultaneously developing myself as a somatically based yoga teacher.  Playing dressup in  'professional' heels and navigating corporate politics through the week; donning yoga pants, with my raw-vegan potluck contribution to the world of deep emotional connection on the weekends.  And through the process finding my voice of authenticity in both.  Finding the place where I can bring heart and connection into the corporate world, and where I can bring my professional skills into the powerful realm of yoga and connection.

As I move forward this year, I know that my work life will continue to shift into greater alignment - and with each step forward, I am able to see the incredible value of each step I've taken, perhaps most especially the difficult ones.  I am grateful for all the places where I have bumped against the questions of balance, alignment, integrity, and purpose.  Those questions have enabled me to be more present in those moments, and to grow from them.... and to make choices with ever greater clarity.

This week I got to play with another level of balance, as I brought my 'professional' skills into a community I care deeply about, and helped them move forward through an important piece of work - that for them is all about connection.  I see what is possible when I bring all of me together in service work, and I am excited about what is possible.

I don't know yet exactly what this year will look like, but I know it will be yet another layer of balance - of the inner and the outer.  Of bringing my voice to the work that I do, and sharing it.  You can count on more to come.

India's gender divide...

The gender divide is still alive and well in India - sometimes it is thought-provoking, sometimes amusing, sometimes frustrating, and sometimes reassuring. (chivalry can be lovely)  Whatever the impact ... to say it isn't there would to overlook an important thread in the fabric of society here.  Unquestionably, it's changing... the thread is thinner than it was, a little frayed at the edges, but it's still surprisingly strong.

Yesterday, at the 'conclave' I attended on Talent Management for HR Leaders, the opening speaker - the head of a (prestigious?) management school offered some of his experience and perspective on engaging the workplace.  Globally, he shared with us, women earn 2/3 of what men do.  (Sad, but true!).  For organizations, he continued, that means that if it costs a dollar to hire a man for a job and a given level of productivity, it only costs them 66 cents to hire a women for the same thing.  So, he concluded, in times of fiscal restraint, recession, or just anytime, you should hire more women, it's a fiscally responsible thing to do.  He continued, explaining that meetings were also a great example - women only required a few cups of tea and a single packet of cookies....as they don't eat much.  So, women are really affordable to employ.  He boasted proudly of the many women professors he has working for him.  (at 2/3 what he pays the male professors??)

I actually had to use my hand to bring my chin back up and close my mouth - because I could feel my jaw just flapping.  It is a testament to the Indian capacity for grace, dignity, and face saving that the largely femail population of the room did not show any noticeable reaction.  At first I thought maybe his comment wasn't considered as outrageous by others, but I checked with my colleagues afterward, and they reassured me that his comments were as unacceptable in India as they would be in Canada.  I guess the difference is that in Canada, I can't imagine any man still thinking such comments were ok.  (they might THINK the ideas - but they would know that they couldn't say them aloud.)

It led to an interesting conversation with my female colleague here about gender in India.  She pointed out that while there is still that clear lack of representation numbers wise in the corporate arena, that there are also many women CEOs - some who have been leading their companies for over 25 years, not to mention that the president of India is a woman.  She also explained that really, women are revered in India - because of the spiritual history / nature of the society.  Wisdom, knowledge, wealth, change, rebirth - all these are governed by Goddesses - and revered.  Mothers are often the final word in their families - even if that word is delivered through father.  Just think Kali or Durga as the voice of mother: "I brought you into this world, I can take you back out!"

And that is part of the paradox that is Mother India - because what many of us westerners would call chauvinism, many in this culture might refer to as reverence and respect.  A woman's place may be in the home - but that is not because she is lesser than, but rather because that is where she rules.  I'm not saying I agree with the perspective ....just that it is one.  And as horrified by the idea as many western women might be, there remain many who yearn to to stay home with their children, and just don't see it as a viable option in current western society.

In yet another gender divide experience .... The day before the conclave, my American friend and I went for pedicures. As the nice men, all in matching black with spiffy dress shoes, got our pedicure tubs ready, we looked around and realized that the salon was entirely staffed by men - with the exception of the receptionist, and one young woman doing facial waxing.  This is such an interesting phenomenon on SO MANY levels. 

Because another feature of the gender divide in India is the no-touch between the genders phenomenon. Men here are physically quite affectionate with each other - much the way women are in the Western world.  It's not a sign of homosexuality; as I believe that is quite unacceptable here - at least publicly - indeed, any display of sexuality is quite unacceptable here.  So men hold hands with each other, but not with women - even married couples refrain from any public displays of affection. Like many other things - some of this is changing amongst the younger generations....but PDAs are just not part of Indian culture.  Men generally just do not touch women in public (they will walk widely around to avoid it).

It also touches on another feature of the great gender divide.  Many of the 'menial' or service jobs that typically see female workers in the West, are done by male workers here, because women simply don't have the same access to the job market.  There is a socio-class divide here too...because in upper classes young women now go to university and generally function quite equally in society. But in lower classes, where young people leave their villages to go work in the city for someone - it's the boys that go. 

My friend here has been quite troubled by her 'maid' - a 14 year old boy that doesn't go to school, because he looks after the house.   Where I stay, it is also young men that take care of the house - and it doesn't matter how old they get, they are forever 'boys'.  At my last guest house one of the 'boys' was in his 20's and had been married for a year (with his wife living at home with her parents) and the other was over 40 with three kids and a wife - all home in their village, hours away, while he slept on the floor in this guest house in Delhi, taking care of the family and guests.  (And the generally accepted assumption is that these 'boys' are grateful for the opportunity to serve.)

So - back to the salon.  I had poked my head into another salon at some point that was fully staffed by women, and yet this one was all men.  What I've come to understand is that this is a 'higher end' salon - and therefor it is staffed by men.  I'm not sure how they reconcile that with the men shall not touch women piece, but Amanda and I concluded that the men there had chosen the work because it is the one way they CAN get some contact with women outside their family.  Who knows what the real story is?

Mother India, above all, forces me to examine my assumptions about what I believe, about what is right, what is wrong.....how society 'works', and to acknowledge how western-culture-centric my world view is, and how easy it is to think that view is 'right' - just because it is familiar and comfortable.  So, while I often experience the gender divide here as uncomfortable, or even insulting... sometimes it is that very divide that makes me feel safer (I love the women-only car on the Metro), and respected.  (I love having doors opened, and things carried for me when they're heavy...)

For the record, the pedicures were awesome, the foot and calf massages divine, and we left happy, pampered, ladies.... with another story to tell in our respective blogs.. 

The Taj Mahal

This past weekend, like millions before me, I made the pilgrimage to Agra, to see the Taj Mahal.  While I was there I had the privilege of seeing the story of its conception enacted, in full beautiful colour, at a local theatre.  I'm not sure what I expected of the weekend, or my experience, but it was definitely a thought-provoking one for me. It was also a gift.  The weekend was organized by one of my hosts here, and I was provided with a full-service tour, including a 'night-viewing' of the Taj under the light of the moon: this happens only 5 days a month: the full moon, and the 2 nights before and after. My host's connections not only enabled the night-visit, but also allowed us to by-pass all of the line-ups. Hours worth.  Really.

Many of you may already know the basic story of the Taj Mahal.  All I knew before I went was that it was supposed to be one of the "7 wonders" of the world - big, opulent and beautiful.  The words "Taj Mahal" have always to me been synonymous with wealth, luxury, and splendor . . . but that's really all I knew.  What I discovered is that for many it's also synonymous with love - it is a mecca for lovers; a place symbolize the power of love and devotion, to come in celebration and sanctification of a union.  Wikipedia explains that: "It was built by Mughal emperor Shah Jahan in memory of his third wife, Mumtaz Mahal. It is widely considered as one of the most beautiful buildings in the world and stands as a symbol of eternal love."   One India tourism site claims it as "the ultimate monument to love"

I confess, as a die-hard romantic, who can never resist a love story . .  . I was surprisingly nonplussed.  The structure is stunning.  The grounds are amazing.  The symmetry (the entire site is designed to be perfectly symmetrical in all four directions.  The hand-carved etchings and semi-precious gem inlaid designs are exquisite.  It is an architectural and artistic monument of immense beauty.  Perhaps a monument to devotion: 22 years of labour, thousands and thousands of dollars (350 years ago!) No idea how many million or billion that would translate to now.  I thoroughly enjoyed and appreciated wandering the grounds, taking in the beauty of the structures and the gardens, walking through the mausoleum.

Sadly, in my soft, squishy, rose-coloured glasses, love-story obsessed heart . . . . I just couldn't get past some of the not-so-romantic, and not-so-widely-advertised, pieces of the story. Frankly, even the basic story doesn't quite do it for me.

Apparently, the emperor was devastated when his third wife, who was his favourite, died during the birth of their 14th child.  I can't help but think that being his favourite wasn't in her highest interest - clearly, it's what killed her!  However, in the age-old tradition of great tragic love stories, love should prevail beyond reason and beyond life.  So, on her death bed, she implored him to grant her a last request:  Please, Emperor, do not be a king to your children, be a father.  And keep me close to your heart, love me always.  The Emperor was  devastated by her death and vowed to grant her request.

Continuing the tragic love-story theme, he couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep, he couldn't rule . . . he became obsessed with his dead beloved, and so he vowed to build a monument in her honour, to keep her close to him always; and this monument should be of the greatest wonder and beauty in the world. just as his Mumtaz had been: and so the concept for the Taj Mahal was born.  Sounds romantic - wouldn't every woman want a man to love her so much that he created something like that in her honour?   Except that I really wouldn't. In her shoes, I'd really have wanted to him to focus on the first part of the request: parenting the 14 children they created together: they are the real monuments to love. 


On the one hand, there is something powerful about any place that people flock to for prayer, and once built, and the Empress entombed there, the mausoleum was occupied regularly by followers coming to grieve her loss and pay their respects.   Not to minimize their loss or her importance, but I wonder if they'd have felt the loss quite so keenly if the Emperor hadn't abdicated his responsibilities to his people (and his children) while he focused on having this monument built.

And then there are the labourers, artisans, architects, and designers involved in the project, who are said to have been maimed; their thumbs cut-off, after their involvement in the project, in order to ensure that no one tried to duplicate the Taj.  I believe, truly, that the energy of the builders is left in the stones of a structure.  How can it be a monument to love if it was built by the hands of slave labour, living in fear?

I've thought about it a fair bit since the weekend, and I admit - there is something romantic about creating something beautiful in honour of someone you love.  But I guess that's the rub: something beautiful that honours love.  If I happen to fall in love with a ridiculously wealthy and powerful man, I really hope that should he be inspired to spend that kind of money on something in my honour - that he do it building hospitals, schools, housing for the poor . . . something to truly make the world a better place, something built by people paid fair wages, who were also invested in making their lives and their world better.

But perhaps there is redemption in the mecca that it has become.  Perhaps the energy of reverence and love, offered by its many visitors helps to balance out the misery of its conception.  Perhaps the joy that it brings to people, the opportunity to contemplate, to revere, to believe . . . are also something powerful, and worth acknowledging. Perhaps it provides an important opportunity to think about the concept of love, and how each of us wants to live that out in our lives. It has certainly given me something to think about over the last few days.