Snow White and the Hunstman

As a birthday present one of my best friends took me out to the movies to the see "Snow White and Huntsman". We were actually lured into watching the movie because of the beautiful video "Breath of life" by Florence and the Machine, and it's sombre yet magical poetics. 

Fairy tales are magical. I felt instinctively that I would like this adaptation, and I did (even if it's perhaps nothing more than a Hollywood fantasy with a slight English touch). What struck me  was the feminist portrait of the two women: Snow White and the Queen. So let me a bit sentimental and ponder about them...

We usually see the two characters through the two archetypes: the  innocent maiden and the evil queen. But in this story we learn where the Queen's obsessions come from. She is not all but evil, she is also torn by pain and by the messages that her own mother and the society gave her about beauty. She has all the power in the world, but she does not feel safe. Perhaps it would be a little exaggerated to say that she is a metaphor of a woman with inner insecurities, who relies on the outer world to tell her she is of value, but don't we all sometimes wish for a magic mirror to reassure us?

Snow White is portrayed as a young woman finding her identity. She has to grow up, face her fears and uncertainties. When she runs away from the prison cell where she grew up, confined and in the darkness, yet separated physically of all the horrors of the queen's reign,  to the dark forest, she finds out that freedom has a high price. That she will have to keep on finding courage on and on again. She also faces guilt because people close to her get hurt and die.  In a powerful scene of the final confrontation with the queen, the queen questions her. How does she feel leading all those people to an unknown fate? Will she be able to stab the queen and kill her? 

The thread of the love story is shown very subtly. The hunter is not a perfect prince, rather a broken down man, who needs to be inspired and reawakened by a woman to find his nobleness and bravery.  Even the kiss that wakes her up, is a kiss of desperation, asking for forgiveness that he failed. 

When Snow White stands as the queen on her regained throne, she exchanges a look with the hunter. That is all, but it expresses their understanding, that things are as they should be. He is at her side, but it was her  that led the crowd to victory. 

August break -culinary delights

Joining other bloggers in the August Break fun of sharing those lovely  little summer moments.

                                                          Tastes of  August

 

What is saving my life right now

There are two things saving my life right now, in the midst of this  summer when a part of me just wants to be on vacation, when I am figuring plans for next year, when things haven't slowed down just because it's summer. 

  

Gratitude.  Kind and tender words. 

Gratitude has become a practice for me. I learned this from Ike Lasater, my NVC mediation teacher. It happens usually when I go for my walk, sometimes I sit on a swing in our garden, but sometimes I simply catch a moment on the metro. I recall all the things I am grateful for, that somebody did for me said to me or that I did for myself or for others. Sometimes these are the things that happen without anybody's influence, like the blue sky. I am always amazed how naturally a wave of joy sweeps over me and I suddenly see all the good things in the day. There is no forced  biting the tongue of complaints. Things may still be turbulent and hectic, but I find the pieces that do makes sense. These are the kind words to myself. 

And then there are the tender words that I hear from others. They come unexpected, sometimes it's an e-mail, sometimes a call, sometimes in person. "I am happy to hear your voice", "I understand", "What you said or did the other day was helpful". "I enjoyed your cooking". Sometimes it's just as simple as that. I find myself instinctively waiting for them, I think we all do. It gives hope that what we try to do or be matters. And even if I spend the whole day in front the computer when I hear these things I know I am not alone. 

In writing this post I am joining the invitation of Sarah Bessey  who  was inspired by the question from Barbara Brown Taylor’s book “Leaving Church". I haven't read the book yet, but that one question makes it worth it to be on my reading list.

Book club girl

For the last year or so I have been trying to become a book club girl or put  it simply attend book club meetings.  Maybe in between the summer reads it's a good moment to look back at my experiences on the way to becoming a book club girl. 

Ever since I have heard about book clubs I have wanted to join one.  It's one of those things that sounds so nice if you can say about yourself "I belong to a book club" (makes you feel more so much more sophisticated and intellectual, but ouch is that my real motivation?). 

It is a  wonderful way to be reading regularly. I love reading, but it does not mean I am committed to it. I often choose the easy way and settle for reading blogs and journal articles because to actually read a book I need to make an effort to go to the library or bookshop (or in the very least put an order on a book on-line).  And so attending book clubs meetings is in a practice of self-discipline and commitment. The book clubs I belong have an easygoing framework. You don't have to announce you will come beforehand, you are free to come to all meetings or only some. There is a lot of freedom in this, but then life often gets in the way. Even if a meeting is once a month or every other two weeks often something comes up. So I must say that coming to the meetings is a already a challenge. 


There are some things about book clubs that are as I had imagined. It is  amazing  to have this time with people who want to discuss literature for hours, are happy to dwell on the characters' motivations (or the authors) and come together just for the pleasure of intellectual discussion. How often in our hectic world do feel that just to meet up and talk about something is purposeful? 


Hoverer, I did not think that being with book clubs with their seemingly relaxed format (we sit in a cafe talk and laugh) could create a tense atmosphere.  In the book clubs I go to there is such a variety of opinions, of readership experience that our discussions can be quite heated. It is not that people are unkind, that sometimes it is unbelievable how a book can arouse opposite opinions of love and hatred. So do the characters and their motivations. 


This is definitely a place to practice self-expression and self-confidence. Especially that usually there is usually one or two people who have a very strong personality, persuasive tone of voice and radical views on what is literary value. They are simply intimidating. I am one of those readers that has somewhat of old fashioned tastes- I like good, innocent characters, happy endings and nostalgic ambiance. The "sophisticated readers" as I call them will often complain and criticize what I enjoy about literature.  If there is no postmodern fragmentation, ambiguity, formal experiments, a sombre (aka realistic portrait) of the human nature they consider the books uninteresting. In those moments I begin to question my tastes and choices and my voices becomes somewhat timid. 


But in fact the real debate begins when from the plot, characters and style we move on to discussing the themes and problems depicted in the book.We  all bring in our life experiences and confront about our values and systems of conviction. You become even more vulnerable because you don't hide behind the book any longer but say what you think. 


Here I must say that there is something magical about literature that you can end up discussing everything you want. After all isn't that what books are also for? In the book club you don't just discuss books, you discuss the world. Literature becomes alive.

Lady Greville

The beautiful woman on the portrait is Margaret Greville. She was only Mrs Greville, but I like to think of her as lady Greville. I guess it fuels my romantic ideas about the England and its aristocracy. And possibly if you entertained the monarchs in your house and were a friend of queen Mary, isn't that enough to be called a lady?  

I visited her estate Polesden Lacey and was intrigued by her character. She was famous for being a gracious society hostess and her parties and events were known all over England in  the Edwardian times. The beautiful interiors take your breath away. But what caught my attention was that hosting and entertaining people was more than just a pass time for her, way to build connections (although her husband was a politician so it was important) or a social obligation. It was a certain choice of what to do with her life, the opportunities and wealth that was given to her.  As one of the volunteer guides in the house told me ,,Many rich people sit on money they have. She enjoyed it". 

Not that organizing parties is a noble mission itself (although she held many charity events and was involved in patriotic actions during the Great War), but how she did it. Every little detail in the house arrangement as well as in the planning of the parties was thought as to please her guests and make them feel as comfortable as possible.  I don't think that it was just the money she spent on having exquisite food or house (although the menus and the decor are impressive)  that attracted her friends and acquaintances. After all these were all rich people who could afford good food and probably had beautiful houses too.  I like to think it was her warm spirit and the intention she put in welcoming them. This is certainly the impression that I got looking at the thank you notes and listening to stories told by the guides. 

And then there was the fact that she quickly became a widow. She did not remarry nor did she have any children. Perhaps that is also why she wanted her house  filled with laughter and chatter.

Lady Greville  was a very discreet person. She asked all her personal writing to be destroyed after her death. Her final gesture was to leave the house to the National Trust, so that other people could come and enjoy the house. In the end I felt more as a guest than a tourist.

It was by chance that on the day I visited Polsdenlace was the anniversary of passing away of someone very close to me. However little I know of the real Margaret Grenville, she made me think of the woman I loved and lost.  She too opened her house family, friends and acquaintances. My "Lady Greville" did not have parlors  with gilded walls nor did she make miniature sandwiches that looked like works of art, just a big kitchen and a china set made of various bits and pieces. But she put on so much passion in the food she made, greeted her guests with so much happiness, that she will always be the perfect hostess to me. 

To me inviting someone for tea, dinner or party will always have a deeper meaning- an act of friendship and love.

Walk in the clouds

I have been angry at the weather lately. Wherever I am it just isn't warm. It is not cold either. I just don't feel at ease at outside anymore. There is a strange humidity and restlessness in the air. 

In the last days I have been staring at the clouds a lot. Trying to figure out if there is a glimpse of sunshine coming through or not. And then after the silly staring and useless predictions, the clouds have got me.

 I have forgotten somehow, how beautiful and majestic they are. How they glide through the sky smoothly and effortlessly. How change from an angry, gray  mass  to a gentle brush of white three thousand times a day. How you can stare at them for hours and think of the hidden kingdoms beneath them. 

My anger has turned into a meditation. I look at the clouds and don't care for the weather anymore. I am curious what shapes they will take, what shade of grey and white, what drama they will play...

                                         
                                         ( photo by my brilliant nephew)

Stopping to travel

In a book on motor development I have read that the most  sophisticated form of movement is stillness, because that's when it's the hardest to keep the balance. 

It's a bit like with traveling. To really let the traveling experiences sink into you, you need to find the time after the travel to reflect on it, to write, to talk to other people about it.

Such days maybe seem uneventful and slow, and actually hard to fit in the schedule, because when you come back from travel or go on to the next one, there are so many urgent things calling you...

In a way all of my travels have been incomplete because I have been missing up on days like that, the days in-between, where you can be with your head and heart  before you embark on another journey.

This is my travel resolution: to find times to stop in order to travel more fully.