Catpaws Cafe

Random musings from my virtual fountain pen

Archive for the month “August, 2012”

Coffee, mothers and daughters

THE SCENT of coffee so faint in the air, wafting in through the window from somewhere. In my mind I can still see the bright red garden furniture my parents used to have, the corner of the garden where they used to be placed, next to the red-current bush and the flowers in their sloping bed , all shielded from view by a hedge.

At that time the energies of that corner was soothing and calm most of the time.  No matter how hard at times, it was still life as we once knew it. The short summer months made us appreciate and the balmy evenings even more. Is the place I remember from whenever still there? It is on the map, google says so, but energetically?  Probably not. On my last visit the whole community felt dead or dying.

Now I’d like a garden you can sit in without being eaten alive… Without having to shout to be heard over the traffic and out of sight of the world and his wife.

As usual I always want what I didn’t or cannot have, be it an impossible equation or just not an option. Or the price too high to pay, but then, isn’t a few highs better than a straight line? A slow heart-beat rather than flat-lining in an emotional sense.

I always imagined that at some point, always in the future, I’d visit and we’d sit in the garden, somewhere in a garden, and have our coffees and be friends at last. Isn’t that what most daughters want with their mothers? No such luck.

I suppose I’m old enough now to technically have a grown daughter, of my heart if not my blood, but I still occasionally wish for someone to fill that role for me too.
I also wish that some day we’d got on, one day she’d accept me for who I am and not just see me as the black sheep, the replacement baby for the son they lost, the daughter she never ”got”. We cannot make people understand us, and this may be especially true for the first wave indigo adults as we really did not naturally fit the norms of what was expected of us. We broke every rule by just existing. We didn’t so much ask for understanding, just for acceptance. Love. To be heard and listened to. Guess that was in short supply. After all, it’s kind of difficult to give what you haven’t got. And even when we do, it does not necessarily live up to expectations, did it mother?

Thing is, it does not even have to be a mother. Just an older woman of companionable nature. I don’t spend much time lamenting over missing out on the whole mother-daughter thing anymore, but I think to some degree we all long for that wise & unconditional acceptance we all hope to get from someone.

So I hanker after an illusive past that I never got to have, how very constructive a way to live your life – not.

So I have instant coffee with myself (and a notepad and my favorite pen) at the kitchen table with the red bistro table cloth from France, but it just isn’t the same.

-That’s why you have cats – and dogs – little bundles of love wrapped up in lovely fur! I’m caught by surprise by this timely comment from Miaowser, who yawns before going back to sleep on the chair next to mine. Indeed Miao-Cat, indeed.

Catpaw on July 4th, 2012.

Contemplating the word love, it’s usage in eft & personal connotations

I often wondered why the lack of verbal ”I love you” from my parents would bother me so much. In fact I can’t remember ever hearing them say it. There was the occasional I like you tho. And that’s just it, it suddenly dawned on me. ”I like you” is conditional. Be like I want you to be and I’ll approve of (or sometimes even appreciate) you, but only if you conform to my ideals, my likes, my wants.

Unconditional love – or unconditional acceptance – is just that; Unconditional.  No matter what.

All this came about because of mulling over the original set-up statement in EFT (emotional freedom technique or simply Tapping). I came across my notes from a talk I heard by Puja Kanth Alfred, author of the book Geo-Specific EFT, about tailoring to different cultures.  And I agree with how utterly awkward the statement ”I love and approve of myself” can sound to non-american ears and when translated into some other languages.

It is meant to feel supportive, encouraging and nurturing, yet to me it does not. The word love in this context to me feels polarized and contrived and because of that I tense up rather than relax, release and let go. Unconditional acceptance feels more neutral and to me it’s vibration is that of holding up the ceiling, of allowing what is to just be.  Unconditional love on the other hand feels more like an oxymoron. It sets up the slightest expectation of something positive being en route and the inner switch in me then flips over to steel myself in case of disappointment in some way, or getting nothing. It’s setting me up for getting nothing after expecting something (”good”). Of being let down. Go without. The promise of a gift and finding the nicely wrapped box empty. Of disappointment when it all turns to nothing, of being short-changed, a promise turning out to come to nothing. Of being forgotten or overlooked.

Personally I’ve experimented with ”Even tho … blahblahblah…, I accept myself (or I accept this in myself) unconditionally (or completely)”. Acceptance allows me to relax and just be.

Just how complicated can one person make the world around her?

Catpaw 5-6 July 2012

Interested in cross cultural EFT?  Check out Puja Kanth Alfreds website:

Looking back at my 80’s…

I LIKED the 80’s, not just for it’s explosion of new fresh music but for it’s optimism, it’s sense of hope. It was a very addictive feeling of we can do/accomplish Anything, that has since disappeared. Sometimes I caught glimpses of it when visiting Mexico City 2-3 yrs ago, but only among the well educated youth.

Maybe that’s what we were? Geeky college and university night school students (and a few graduates) with little or no money, motivated and eager to get out into the world, to explore and create, seduced by the dream of one day having a loft apartment with wood floors in the heart of the city and not identical boxes in the suburbs with linoleum floors and a long commute, leaving for work so early in the morning that breakfast was not an option. So we made it into the new-romantic way to keep the weight off: endless coffees until lunchtime, which was spent in one of the many little places that popped up like mushrooms after rain. It was a great time to be young adults.

We dreamed about putting our mark on the world, travel to exotic places… even tho none of us could afford to take a holiday, it did not matter! We’d waited for years to be let loose and play in the world and here we were!
That was the difference between the late 80’s, the 90’s and the noughties… Back then everything was new, life was still physical in as much as we were not reined in by remote controls/mobile phones/ipads or slaves to our androids. You could have a bbq outside with your mates, play music on a portable boombox (Joe Cocker, Simply Red, old soul and 60’s stuff) and no ringing phones with tinny music or playing games on said phones. Instead there’d be laughter and late night fun coz it was an occasion or it was summer, and it wasn’t every night.  Cheap wines and new imported beers…

Things were new and developing, like the precursor of the internet, and we talked about it with enthusiasm, hope and amazement.

As the evening wore on it would get quieter, with only the odd car going past and breaking the silence, or the sounds nature and her other creatures made. Most trickled off to catch the last bus or train home and the rest kept our voices down or the neighbors would complain.  It was a lovely era.

What happened to it all?  The fields filled with more cheap ugly housing, the green tarmacked over to make new car-parks in failed park-n-ride schemes, rents and house prices rocketed. The move forward into the up and coming inner city ‘hoods or the developing envisioned next silicon valley… didn’t happen. And we, we grew up and apart, and little by little ran out of steam, lost our vision and appetite for life. Settled for less than inspiring jobs or down to start families. And as Don Henley sang, the end of the innocence, but in a slightly more local context.

Catpaw on the 4 July 2012

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