carly macaulay

draw near, women and hear..

draw near, women, and hear what I have to say. Turn your curiosity for once towards useful objects, and consider the advantages which nature gave you and society ravished away. Come and learn how you were born the companion of man and became his slave; how you grew to like the condition and think it natural; and finally how the long habituation of slavery so degraded you that you preferred its sapping but convenient vices to the more difficult virtues of freedom and repute. If the picture I shall paint leaves you in command of yourselves, if you can contemplate it without emotion, then go back to your futile pastimes; ‘there is no remedy, the vices have become the custom’

-Choderlos de Laclos, ‘On the education of Women’, 1783

As I sit around a table of daughters, passionately involved in meaningful discussion on girls and women and their place within the world of today; I can feel a fire burning deep within their souls, almost a rage not just of how little we seemed to have learnt but how generations of women themselves seem to have come to a passive acceptance of this role we are told to play and that the young adult girls of their age are too being molded by the mothers and fathers who tell them no different. These daughters I speak of set themselves apart. They do this proudly, and by no means to condemn, or to be better, or be above their peers but merely to make a difference. They have decided to walk in another direction. You will not find these daughters engrossed in social media sifting though images of girls depicting themselves sexually, in awe of how they too can look like this and have the freedom to share it with the world. No, these daughters are not admiring or being inspired to follow this new generation of girls; instead they find it all the more reason to fight, to stand up and be seen for their intelligence, humility, bravery,compassion and strength even when faced with demoralization from their sisters and male counterparts, because they dare to be different, because they dare to say this is by no means alright. They are choosing to be the voice that speaks and if necessary shouts and says; Girls what are you doing? And who are you doing it for? These daughters are reading the likes of Simone de Bouvier, and Virgina Woolf they are angered and equally saddened by despite the fact that so much time has passed, we seemed to have learnt so little. That these women too, carried this very same message and somehow it failed to be heard. They are as astounded as I, for the incomprehension that women are still seen in so many ways weaker, inferior, less intelligent and less capable, too emotional and most appallingly as objects to be moulded and designed purely for our male companions. It is like the world is being deliberately obtuse. I recently came across a piece of writing that was screaming for the attention of women.. for women to wake up and pay attention.

‘… Why, ladies? Why must we continue to whittle ourselves down? Who is it for? What is it for? You can walk through a certain aisle at the pharmacy or at the grocery store and see the language of diminishment all over the packaging for weight loss aids of all kinds.”Shrink your waist.” “Lose inches off your thighs.””Slim down.””Get skinny”

How about”Grow your mind.” “Increase your confidence and productivity.” “Beef up your knowledge.” “Enlarge your scope of asskicking.”

That’s a valid message for women and girls: Grow, expand, branch out, open up,get bigger,wider, faster, stronger, better, smarter. Go up not down. Get strong, not skinny.

You are not here to get smaller. You are not here to have a thin waist and thighs. You are not here to disappear. You’re here to change the world! Change the world then! Forget about “losing a few pounds”. Think about what you could be gaining instead.”

-words from clearthatmindofcant

listening to…. Stan Getz and Joao Gilberto

rustic apple and sour cherry pie

rustic apple and sour cherry pie.

rustic apple and sour cherry pie

I lie abstracted and hear beautiful tales of things and the reasons of things,They are so beautiful I nudge myself to listen.

I cannot say to any person what I hear… I cannot say it to myself… It is very wonderful.

-Walt Whitman, leaves of grass

Rustic apple and sour cherry pie

for the sweet pastry

ingredients: 125g butter softened, 1egg, 90g icing sugar,30g almond meal,250g plain flour

method: place butter,sugar,almond meal,egg in an electric mixer with a paddle attachment and beat until well combined, Add the flour on a low-speed until just combined. transfer the dough to a lightly floured surface and bring together into a disk, wrap in plastic film and refrigerate for 1/2 an hour. Pre heat oven to 180°C. Remove pastry from the fridge, on a lightly floured surface roll out to 4mm thick and gently line a greased pie tin, can leave the edges for a homely look.Put the remaining pastry aside. Bake the shell for ten minutes in the oven before removing and setting aside to cool.

Pie Filling

ingredients: 1tin of pie apples,1 cup of sour cherries drained,1table spoon brown sugar

method: combine all the ingredients and pour into the tart shell, roll out remaining pastry and cover over the pie. With a sharp knife make indents in the lid, and sprinkle a little brown sugar over the top.

Bake for 25 minutes, serve hot with thickened cream.

takings from, Whitman’s Leaves of Grass

takings from, Whitman’s Leaves of Grass.

takings from, Whitman’s Leaves of Grass

I exist as I am, that is enough

If no other in the world be aware, I sit content

And if each and all be aware I sit content.

Whoever degrades another degrades me…

and whatever is done or said,

returns at last to me,

And whatever I do or say I also return.

The pleasures of heaven are with me,

and the pains of hell are will me,

The first I graft and increase upon myself..

the latter I translate into a new tongue.

I am the poet of the woman the same as the man,

And I say it is great to be a woman as to be a man.

And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of men.

And as to you life, I reckon you are the leavings of many deaths,

No doubt I have died myself ten thousand times before.

listening to…. Olafur Arnalds

listen to with cups of tea in the morning,

long drives in the car,

with a glass of wine while you prepare dinner in the evening,

with a book on a winters day,

play loud when you are home alone and really hear it,

pause and repeat track four and understand how trully wonderful this piece is,

most of all

if anything at all,

let yourself be moved.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RpRiVyqIoAA

thoughts over lunch

thoughts over lunch.

thoughts over lunch

The simplicity of

feeding the chickens

who laid the eggs

for me to cook

to feed

to the children.

can all of life possibly be this simple?

I am so thankful that my children are living just a little of this simplicity, in between ipads and youtube train clips. I’m thankful that my three-year old with autism can tell the difference between a carrot and a potato and that I often find play dough in muffin trays in my oven because he has been making cookies. Both of our little ones enjoy cups of tea in the morning, not because they are thirsty, more so because they already in their young minds understand the sacredness of that first morning cup, where sleepy eyes and heads are not quite awake enough yet for the beginning, for play. They will learn where their food comes from and that they don’t really need much to keep their bellies content.. maybe just a few chickens roaming in the yard.

i dont mind dirt under my nails

you are so brave and quiet I forget you are suffering

-Hemingway

i dont mind dirt under my nails

You are so brave and quiet, I forget you are suffering

-Hemingway

For a rustic effect wrap your pots in coconut basket liners and tie with brown string. You can buy basket liners from nursery and hardware stores. If you cut them down the middle and open each piece up they will wrap easily around the pots, then secure with the string and trim off any excess. They look really nice when all placed in an area together like on a window sill or book shelf. A little winter indoor garden. For easy watering just place all the pots in the kitchen sink basket liners and all.

words

if there is a place where i ask the questions, it is here, with dirt under my nails and new life resting in my hands. It is here that I hear the sound of my own voice, where life speaks volumes in it’s all alluring silence. It is here where my creativity begins and always ends with a pen and notebook in hand.

baked sweet potato chips

ingredients: 1 whole sweet potato, olive oil, sea salt flakes

method: pre heat the oven to 180°C. Peel and thinly slice the sweet potato and lay in a single layer onto a baking tray lined with baking paper. lightly drizzle with olive oil and season with the salt flakes. Cook in the oven for 20 minutes, keeping a watch that they don’t burn. When crisp remove from oven and allow to cool before storing in a jar or container.

mothers

mothers.

mothers

He asks,

‘What is it you do?

I’m a mother

‘Yes, I know that but what else, before that?

She feels her heart drop to the pit of her stomach , as she frantically searches her mind for a more suitable answer.

A mother, just a mother.

He is oblivious in the knowing, that in that moment all worthiness was stripped away and her heart was silently crying an abundance of tears

For the self she is yet to know and the self she has whole heartedly given to her children.

when did it become not enough? when was it that becoming a mother became so undervalued? It is true, there are parts of myself, parts that are not a mother or a wife but are simply me. They are most of the time in the shadows or only seen as a glimpse now and again and as mothers, the caretakers of our families we know only too well that this is a selfless journey we have chosen. We move through our days nurturing and nourishing our families by meeting needs and with an abundance of love. Often allowing all those who matter most to us to move on their journeys ahead of our own. We wait patiently, maybe for only a few minutes of solitude, or a full nights sleep, or enough time to take a bath, read a chapter in a book, or a pause long enough to feel the warmth of the sun on our faces, maybe the bigger things we will have to wait a little longer for.

It is undeniably deplorable that the very words ‘ I am a mother’ are so often perceived as insignificant and demeaning. That even I, when asked this was not able to convey my own importance and sacrifices here, that I was, in that moment diminished to feeling like it wasn’t enough. I believe that if it wasnt for mothers, so many that are blessed to be living up to their ambitious dreams and walking the journeys that they have chosen for themselves without the need to pause or defer to raise the children, might look upon us in a new light and with gratitude in their hearts.