Social Misperception and the “Greying of Your Spirit”

Stopping by the Newsstand before leaving Park Royal South and leafing through some Women’s Magazines:

“As we age we fall apart.” – Bullsh_t!!  As we age we stop learning at school, stop working out or playing sports.  We keep eating out… and drinking beer, wine, juice, and lattes, all laden with calories.  The preservatives laced into conventional foods bulge the middle outward.  No exercise leaves the muscles painful and the bones in poor condition.  No new ideas result in a flabby brain and slowed thinking or forgetfulness.

Stop believing the bull in women’s magazines about aging; the mags with the ads for all your body, mind, and spirit pains.  The articles are written primarily to promote the advertisements that fill you with unnecessary fears and tell you you need manufactured pills, medications or surgery.  Take action!! Keep your mind, body, and spirit healthy by avoiding the behaviors that harm them. Take responsibility for your life by following nature and nurture.  Avoid conventional stores and commercial products and tune out old wives tales… enjoy the freedom of being your own boss and running your own life.  I dare you to throw out your television and newspapers if you will.  I overhear more people talking about these as an absolute waste of time and invasion into their free time to think, read, paint, socialize, walk/run… take photographs, choose a new pet, phone a friend.  Your choices are unlimited… try some new ones.

I shake off the negativity from the “media salad” and start across the tiny bridge that connects the parking lot with the playing fields.  Walking home past the fields with a view to the ocean, I like seeing the beaver’s bare-stick igloo, and the way it displaces the water, causing new patterns of mud to form along the edge of the creek.

While visiting the mall I was keen to study a young Iranian woman in Artigiano early today.  She had it!!  Voice, power, posture, flash, tan, probably much cash; and she had only a few accessories that differed from mine.  Lime green richly hued T-shirt, white leather belt, her shirt was tucked in; hot heels, jeans, wavy, glossy black hair, attitude, cellular, dazzling teeth!  We both had designer sunglasses and my jeans are the cool Acne brand.  I could try a colored T-shirt, white belt (later I bought a red patent one made in Germany), high heels, and better handbag.  My hair is dramatic in the opposite way  and I’m fine with it.  I don’t like cell phones and don’t use one.  I could be taller with heels but she’s taller than my 5’6″. Stunning woman teaches me a lesson:  Shut up and Show Off !!

I had caught sight of myself in a plate glass window with a mean-spirit behind it and it threw me a reflection of my expression sagging.  I fell into disbelief and hurriedly turned my head and thoughts back to the soft pink lighting of the powder room at home and the mercifully flattering reflections emitted from a 1960’s mirror.  The mirrors in the make-up and clothing departments in stores are cuttingly cruel; a tired, worn, dark, expressionless face appears out of my stare and I’m forced to try on new colors and styles to become the mannequins  and the women on posters surrounding me.  Once in the door at home, I tried on the black capri-length tights and top I bought…  up-to-date and sexy.  I needed these.

"Oh My... perhaps I should have added this too!"

Grateful for hairpins to keep my hair out of my face, off the back of my neck, and above the bathwater.

Copyright © 2010 Nicole Rigets


The Everyday Under His Collar

I could see exhaustion under his collar,

the wear in the skin of his briefcase,

the trudge of his leather soles,

re-soled,

re-soiled.

I remember the first thing I noticed,

was the weight of his eyelids,

and

the neglectful way he shaved along the folds

in his face,

causing sores and redness to erupt

along

the surface of his skin.

I could hear the dialogues spewing;

the sales calls,

cold calls,

warm calls,

folding over each other in a pit

near his stomach.

The failed,

the miserable,

the promises;

always of tomorrow.

The tomorrows’ building

into becoming nothing,

not-a-thing,

no thing at all.

"The Rain Must Fall"

Copyright © 2010 Nicole Rigets