Pondering...actually slightly despairing...about the ennui around housework, domestic duties...and perhaps that’s why...the label incites feelings of discontent, of boredom, of imposed gender roles and obligations. Where is the excitement in this?...Sure, I love my outer space all Zen and freed up from the clutter that manifests as a result of inattention, inaction...but even this outer act of cleansing the sanctum is not doing it for me....it just leads to more despairing about the outer reflecting the inner...a composting mass of laundry, dishes and stuff – random stuff that we so desperately need, have to have...a pitiful expression of the inner! So I explore the inner angst that just wants to say fuck it to keeping house...what does this mean, where is my soul in this structure that I rebel against?
Restlessness born from an innate desire to be transient, to be free to roam and explore new territories, new vistas – often reflect on the Noongar way of moving as one with the land, in time with the seasons. To me there’s something so liberating in this idea of treading lightly in the land. To be one with it, to have no thing/s.
In the handbook for civilised nations we are instructed to buy the land, build a structure, put up a fence and tame the wildness, keep it out. In my case this has translated into... buy the land (which doesn’t fit within my framework – not something we can own) deconstruct the structure so that it becomes even more dysfunctional than when we started, kill the lawn and tell the rest of the garden you better get tough if you’re going to survive – cos I don’t tolerate weak and needy vegetation, rip down the fence with ex’s van - cos it’s a token fence and we don’t have anything to keep in or out...but still the feeling of being locked in, pinned down, restrained, weighs heavily...and I don't want to tame or keep the wildness out - I want to have the outdoors indoors...no doors!
...this tenuous sense of ownership brings with it other terrifyingly insignificant responsibilities such as paying tribute to the local gods of government for the collection of rubbish and the maintaining of more structure...not to mention the insurance gods who keep the fear of loss at bay...usurers feeding on our collective fear...superfluous in the bigger picture...
Then there’s the responsibility to other people’s structures, the unwritten law of keeping to your boundaries...but animals don’t conform to these rules and have had nightmares of untamed dingo pup digging up the neighbours freshly laid foundations for concrete slab...counterbalanced by regular visits from other neighbours chooks, turkey, geese and sheep...all on a mission to feed from the dingo’s bowl no matter where it’s strategically placed.
Buying a house sounded like a good and sensible idea to the male oriented part of me but the wild female was never really convinced...am not designed to stay put, to conform...but having children and the structure that we operate in dictates that we must educate...that they need stability...even if this stability masks the very instability of our structure...but that is another story...so yes have put down roots and played the game...but at what cost?
I face the outer chaos and make firm resolutions to clean the house like a good girl...while the wild part of me cries to go bush...to be in my real home...where dirt is normal and natural.
5 comments:
I am soooooo with you on this!! I have suspected for a very long time that we are really growing tired, even exhausted, trying to maintain the facade of our daily western lives, particularly as we are supposed to be the lucky ones. I have lived in my Kombi for 9 months and on a yacht up and down the west coast for 3 years and loved it. I think the 'walkabout' culture seeps into our bones from this land, where people have been walking for so long - how can it not affect us? Even us wadjelas....
Too true...powerful, ancient country calling out for us to behold her...walkabout...sigh :)
I think you need to still your mind.
indeed...:)
Like Michelle I lived in a Kombi campervan. For a part of that time I lived in suburbia in my Kombi, and surrounded myself with tie-dye sarongs, my favorite books and with a growing sense of independence and want for being able to live without a house clad in bricks. And for a time around 1998, I lived in the forests in the SW blockading with the forest folk - and wow were those times sweet. Being a nomad - [nomad: no madness]comes with its own spirit. I yearn for that - keeping company with cockatoos and listening to the late night antics of the possum and kangaroo clans, not to mention the melodic songs of the night owl. I'd suggest you take to the bush, and in between such wanderings take your rest at a wwoofer's residence. There are some great places to stay, and living out of a van, bus, house truck or some self created shelter near nature is a great aim... One day I will get back there too.
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