Her name was Joy

My trip to Miami was healing, nourishing and insightful. I learned that an abundance of  capitalism makes me want to puke.Whilst I love beautiful objects and the right to consume them, "things" have a place in my life. I was reminded of the profound importance people have in my life, how living with compassion and offering myself to serve others is what drives me - more, oh so much more than the fancy cars on the Miami boulevards and highways. I was reminded that I am demanding in relationships - I demand conversation that is interesting, discussion that is challenging. Intellectual exchange is as necessary to my survival as the air I need to breath. I also "demand" fun- in all its wonderful variations. And caritas, compassion and caring.. tall order- you think??! He thought. He had to go... another one bites the dust..

Her name was Joy. She wore a red dress. I was in a red dress. The other women wore black. It was New Year's Eve, Miami. An evening of oysters, champagne and a burning desire to get home. I danced the night away. I met Joy over our red dresses and prawns. We exchanged names and the fact that we both have  a love for dancing in that nameless, senseless place in which you know you can share a profound time together and will never see each other ever again. We danced together, we danced with our partners, but kept returning to dance together, two ageing women  in their red dresses.

After we  dutifully kissed our partners, with an understanding and few words, we both simultaneously slipped off our shoes and walked into the warm swimming pool in our red dresses - and swam and laughed. I felt the exhiliration, the freedom to express myself as I choose, to feel the joy in my body. With no words I kissed Joy farewell, knowing we had shared a special and unique evening and that was good enough.  Dripping wet I  jumped on the bus to return to  the condo, pack and catch my plane home.

The bus was packed with partygoers from my party- average age had to be 65 - and rest older. A woman of about 70 looked at me and asked why I was wet. I told her I had been swimming. She said she saw women swimming and she was so envious. I asked her why she did not join in. And her answer set my heart's work for 2010 and beyond.. " I was scared that my husband would be angry with me."

It is 2010. A woman of 70 plus, with many resources at her disposal, feels the fear to express herself, her desires, due to fear of her husband, a man. Are women born with a genetic predisposition to fear of men? Or is it really that men universally have caused so much damage to so many women that we all carry the same story of fear throughout our lives?

I am unable to live at ease in such a  world. I momentarily felt this male power or rather women weakness in Miami. I was walking the streets with my then partner, looking at all the interesting consumer goods() He followed me into a store as I was drawn to a ring in the window. I admired it, I tried it on. I waited for him to buy it as a gift for me. The traditional woman emerged, wanting her lover to spoil her/invest in her. He walked out the store. I felt stunned, rejected, surprised. I need to qualify= I never expect men to buy me gifts, I love exchanging gifts of all kinds. This man had never bought me a gift. So I am not demanding. I think gift exchange is essential between lovers.. another conversation..

I  walked out the door. I felt so inferior in my  perception of his financial power- I was without a ring I wanted because he chose not to buy it for me. I felt small, pathetic, like a child whose parent had controlled her behaviour.

Suddenly it struck me- hey I have my own money, I can buy the ring. I went right on back into the store and loved watching his surprise as I reclaimed my power.

I commit to never being 70 and fearing a man, have a man control my behaviour, my life. I commit to working with as many women as I can reach so they too can buy their own "rings". And to working with as many men as I can reach to teach them how to honour, respect and celebrate women without feeling they are loosing their power.

I vomitted up all the champagne so foreign to my alcohol free body  showered, got on a plane for home , wrote him a "dear John " letter and have been joyful with my intentions for 2010. This is for all the Joys in the world x

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