Walk On

Welcome to the Walk of The Heroines

Refresh. Immerse. Enjoy. (But only if you want to...!)

Should you ever be fortunate enough to find yourself in the fair city of Portland, 
Oregon, with time on your hands after seeing the obligatory low-key 
bohemian/intellectual/Portlandia sights (Mary's Topless, Voodoo Donuts, Powell's Books, 23rd Street Cinema, the hand-crafted brew venues), there is a place of refuge to gather one's thoughts. On Portland State Campus they have installed the Walk of the Heroines (www.woh.pdx.edu/). 

Saunter, under a sky the color of pewter, as you read the inspiring inscriptions etched onto stones, the world's wisdom -- literally -- at your feet. 

Until that happy day when you trod upon this sacred cement and carved stone, admire the verdant hills, watch a hummingbird flutter onto a branch, a bee play among the flowers (so, this was what your mum meant when she sat you down and gave you that talk on the "birds and the bees"). 

Welcome. As has been said in certain circles which I've been known to stalk the periphery, "C'mon, take a walk with me -- I ain't askin' here."

Indeed.

Generally

"When caught between two evils, I generally like to take the one I never tried."

                                                                                          -- Mae West, 1935          

The Heroine

against the wall...

Yes

"The gleam of an heroic Act
Such strange illumination
The Possible slow fuse is lit
By the imagination."

       -- Emily Dickinson, circa 1870

Rest

Rest.
Come sit a Spell. Stop.
To consider.
the State
of your
Spirit

It

"Freedom is always and exclusively freedom for the one who thinks differently."

                                                            -- Rosa Luxemburg, 1918

Is

"If I could have found what I needed at thirteen I would not have lost so much of my life chasing vindication or death. Give some child, some thirteen-year-old, the hope of the remade life.

Tell the truth.

Write the story that you were always afraid to tell.

I swear to you there is magic in it."
                                                   
                                                                                                                      --Dorothy Allison, 1992

Carved

"The history of progress is written in the blood of men and women who have dared to espouse unpopular causes, for instance, the black man's right to his body, or the woman's right to her soul."

                                                                                                                        --Emma Goldman, 1908

In Stone

"Every woman I have ever loved has left her print upon me, where I loved some invaluable piece of piece of myself apart from me -- so different that I had to stretch and grow in order to recognize her.

-- Audre Lorde, 1982 

Walk the Talk

Built like a stone Walk of the Heroines.

Light My Fire

Who doesn't love The Game? The thrills, the chills, the preparation and planning...what? Oh, you mean the Olympic Games? Those are good, too.


The Olympics are fascinating. Beginning, once upon a time and in a place far away, the Grecian city of Olympia, 8th century before the common era --political states would get their Game on -- and all hostilities would cease while the athletes were at it. Oh, those were The Days! Skip to 1896 and the introduction of the modern Olympics. Games that, some would have it, show us the grandest and best that we are capable of -- the quest for perfection, precision, patience, endurance, and seeking expression of all that the body can experience. Yes. We are the stuff of stars. Our ancestors are carried forward in our deeds.


In the modern Games, in honor of the first Olympics, and in a nod to the power of story (Zeus got his fire heisted by Prometheus, who, as punishment, had to get his rocks off again and again -- hey, my blog, my telling), the Olympic Torch is lit in a ceremony in Athens months before the start of the Olympics -- by eleven women representing the vestal virgins (how hot is that!). Utilizing a parabolic mirror to ignite the light via the power of the sun, the torch is passed to the first of the torch bearers, who run it past the Temple of Hera (for ol' times' sake) before the flame is carried by a series of sprinters to the city providing hospitality for The Games. (My benediction: May that all of your lovers, paramours, and one/two/three nights stands always carry a torch for you -- as they should, damn it!)


From our study of mythology, we know that the deities were noble and good -- until they weren't. At times they were randy, riotous, opinionated, jealous, frisky -- and any other mood imaginable. This goes towards The Games themselves. They showcase the very best that we, humans, are capable of achieving.

That said: We is what we is. And the Games are our mirror. Women did not participate until the 1900 games. Even now, there are countries that have not sent a female athlete to compete. There have been acts of terrorism. Political boycotts. Allegations of doping (and not in a good way). Tragedies of war. Apartheid. Racism. Anti-semitism. Damn!

Even of late (say, this week), there have been idiots who have commented upon a goddesses' -- I meant athletes -- image in a bathing and asking : do you think she's fat? (Wonder if they asked her if she thought the writer was a fat-head?) There have been second-guessing of hairstyles, and a photo run by a mainstream media power that shall be unnamed -- cough (Yahoo.com) cough -- posted a photo of a cut-n-defined-to-six-pack perfection abdomen, with the tag that Olympians weren't like the rest of us. One could say that anyone who disagreed might be jealous...but it would be hard to know of whom the feeling was aimed -- because the shot cut off the subject's head (not in the post-modern, hip, be-aware-of-the-frame mode, but at the friggin neck!). We are not jealous. (Poor, headless darling!). We are mildly amused and slightly incensed on behalf of all humanity/deities and their myriad of body types and plethora of talents.


The Games are life/and life is the Games. We seek to give our best performance. We engineer cities, explore the heavens, perform rocket surgery and brain science...er, is it the other way around?....whatever! The point is, we are brilliant and fierce and gentle and good -- and at times bad as we wanna be, and a little more too! We are standard bearers and torch lighters, all.

On the Bus

While there is much that is exciting in the work of Gender Studies/Social Activism, there is also, at times, a sadness at injustices in the past, and the appraisal of hard work before us. Studying women’s spirituality and the feminine divine refreshed my soul, mind, and body. To see women, and by extension the earth, as beautiful and strong was something that I hadn’t realized that I was so thirsting for until it was laid before me. I found the archetypes of the feminine divine -- from the Oshun to Isis, from Brigid to Kuan Yin -- not only fascinating, but energizing and inspiring. There are now times when I see a woman running for a bus, guiding a child across the street, reading a book, feeding the pigeons -- and I see a goddess.

Through the study of Social Justice, I discovered that feminism is for everybody, because women’s voices, concerns, dreams, schemes, needs, and lives are so important. I learned to see, well, yes, the passion, but also the varied richness of sex, gender, identity, and community; to look with interest at black and white -- and every other shade; to really explore notions of power and privilege.

Now what? The work. This entails becoming an engaged individual. A good listener. A fine friend. A  world citizen.

It is the work of a lifetime.