Family

Speaking my Truth & getting to the Root

I decided to move over to Substack, as it’s a platform where subscribers may pay for content, which feels very hopeful. Back in 2011 I began blogging on WordPress, and I will also continue here as it’s where my websites are. Sometimes however, if I write something more in depth, it may only appear on Substack. It may take a while to find my subscribers there, let’s see. This is the first post which appears on both platforms, while I get used to the new system. I get the impression one benefits from putting time in to following others there, like any platform. If that doesn’t suit me so well, I will be all the more glad to have this site.

One of my paintings, in water colour, charcoal, pastel and menstrual blood. Abstract depicting layers of form, like a cross-section of another planet’s substance and atmosphere.

At this current time, I am about to have some root canal surgery on one of my teeth for the first time in my life, as well as some more ordinary dental procedure. Having learnt about the (vedic) chakra energy system in our bodies, I am aware that this work in my mouth relates to my 5th chakra. That is an energetic vortex in my throat, not visible physically (to most people), yet sensed subtly by sensitive people. It is a different layer to our being, superimposed on the physical form and interacting with it, part of it. Not something I was brought up to know about, but I can now feel and work with my chakras. They are part of our health, and in other cultures around the world as well as increasingly normalised locally, people use them consciously as part of healing their bodies (and minds, spirits) when unwell. Western medicine rarely acknowledges them, though I have heard of energy healing happening in some hospitals, and a machine which balances chakras being used in Hong Kong. More usually crystals, tuning forks or simply meditation may be used. Chakras are the gateways where subtle energy moves in and out of our physical form. They also correspond to different layers of energy surrounding us making up our auras.

Energy healing aside, I require some extensive dental treatment, and no amount of wishful thinking seems to be able to avoid it (I did hold off for about a year as I couldn’t feel yet what the dentist warned me of). Teeth being bone, they are also connected with the Root chakra, which is located at the base of one’s spine. Themes of the Root include feeling safe, and our relationship with our family of origin.

The 5th chakra is about speaking one’s truth, and finding one’s voice. It’s a very powerful vortex, since speaking our thoughts makes them more real, allows them to connect more tangibly with others; enables us to be heard. It is a significant part of how we manifest our reality, energetically speaking. Obviously speaking truth doesn’t necessarily occur when we talk, but that is the highest expression of the energy. If I am to heal my infected tooth on all levels, then I am also paying attention to how I communicate; how I get on with my family, as well as being open to receiving the surgery.

In recent posts I have mentioned money; potentially needing it; my relationship with it; how I feel about it. Well, when I first visited this new dentist I picked up on a magnetic vibration she carried. The prices she charges for her specialist work put her on a different level to my usual dentist, who often treats NHS patients, and doesn’t have such particular equipment. She exuded a higher level of confidence too, although I would say my normal dentist is incredibly proficient and I have a very high regard for her. I think it was something to do with the specialised service she provides, and where she is situated attracting wealthier clients. It is work which requires tremendous precision, and while she probably doesn’t frame the way she deals with clients in new age energy terms, she must become very talented at reading people so that she knows how to communicate with them according to their needs. My sense was that she is very good at this, at least from my own experience with her. She also has an arrangement with my dentist to receive referrals like me, so not all the patients entering her surgery are quite so full of money.

The way she connected with me made me feel like I mattered, and I felt quickly that I trusted her, which is quite special for an expensive dentist to do. Although the bill was going to be higher than most things I pay for, I felt good about her personally and spending that money on her service. She inspired me; she made me want to be more like her; and that’s worth paying for! It’s not the first time I have noticed the power of larger sums of money to make me think and behave differently. The way they affect you – whether you earn them or pay them. It’s both the money, and her brilliance at her job, and the two are of course linked. They make a form of success! Her energy sings of how she values herself highly, and that is so attractive.

Following on from my last post about communist/anti-apartheid ancestors, and I can’t help but notice a link with an anti-capitalist sensibility running strong in my lineage, and a lack of resources. That isn’t manifest in my whole family at all, but as I said, I do particularly – more than most – relate to those ancestors. Perhaps their beliefs need to be addressed in me. Like unpicking the layers of their beliefs, because some of them were very positive, ahead of their time, and also included being amazing at what they did. Yet a strand that thought making money is selfish, or we should always think of the collective before our own needs, does benefit from being challenged when it becomes detrimental. I could be exhibiting part of a lower expression of their energy, when really I want to aim for the highest. I may have inculcated a worship of supporting (and even identifying as) the vulnerable; not exalting the successful so much, and I think that’s actually very prevalent in parts of our society and you don’t need my ancestors to get caught in it.

Transforming my energy around wealth would make me very happy. For sure I am moving in the right direction with it, and my next step will be to learn how to generate more of it myself. To become more self-sufficient or abundantly provided for. Wealth and resources come in different forms, not just sums of money, and in some regards I feel very abundant already in highly positive rewarding ways which I am really grateful for. Be it in friendships, my love of my own company, my quality of life, how often happy and positive I feel, enjoying my work, my love of nature and cold water swimming, and being in my body as well as meditating.

Some of these things people would spend enormous amounts of money trying to achieve, and I just have them naturally. To be fair I have worked hard at creating them as they presently are in my life; it wasn’t always thus. I would also love to be able to pay for my life without being supported by the state or anyone else. I believe it is more than possible, it’s just been taking me a while to turn that aspect around. I don’t think it’s wrong to be supported by others, and I know I give back in many ways. It would however feel empowering to know I had more choice say, if I could buy my own home. Yet I am aware too, some of that impulse is illusory. The home I have now suits me very well indeed and in fact owning it or not means very little to me. As I have also mentioned, I am not that drawn to materialism; regardless of ancestors, I think it’s part of my nature. That inner aspect of me may well be delightfully comfortable as I am.

When it comes to manifesting a new reality, there is a balance between imagining the feeling of having what we desire, and being happy where we already are. If we express desperation, or dissatisfaction, we will surely repel what we crave, and only invite more of what we don’t want. This is the law of energy. Tending to our evolution with mindful purpose can take practice. Even if I am not that motivated by money itself, and basically have everything I need; what does fire me up is evolving my talents and using my gifts and abilities to their highest purpose. In my pursuit of that end – of becoming the highest expression of myself in this lifetime – I may well attract more income and the resources to achieve it. It is an evolutionary momentum which universal energies will support.

My ancestors pertain to my family of origin, so they are part of this mouth healing exercise as well as the living. An infection found its way into my tooth and over time ate away at the healthy pulp inside the root. After it did this, it wanted to infect the rest of my body, but my body is strong and clever and put a stop to this by creating a bubble to contain the unhealthy fluid spilling out of the root. A small swelling appeared on my gum which houses the bubble. This is what the dentist needs to treat, to try to save the dead tooth from needing to be extracted. There are healthy teeth in my mouth, one dead one and another needs repairing. Like family members perhaps! Some are easier to access and communicate with. The infection would represent whatever lower vibrational tendencies present in family patterning. Writing the blog to express myself is tied up in the equation. At some point I would like to do some singing again, as that definitely is 5th chakra energy and brings me great joy. Preparing a performance, as I always seem to be these days, is a way of working with that energy too.

change of tempo

An artist painting a scene at Clissold Park, north London.

From Dad’s home on the northern fringe of Muswell Hill, I cycle the sunny morning up and down through Turnpike Lane and along to Clissold Park, stop for an energy shot guarana coffee. Slide down to Dalston, get lost on a wrong turn to Victoria Park, open Google maps, eventually find my bearings roundabout to Mile End; Limehouse, and the minutiae of back streets and alleys, bridges and footways that lead to my dentist in Canary Wharf. It’s my first time there – my usual dentist has referred me to a private specialist, since the NHS nor even she privately has the necessary equipment for the job. Apparently I am at my destination but I can’t see it – no sign. I began panicking a good half hour earlier when the map was messing me around, sending me on wild goose chases, unnecessary side routes when the main road would have been fine and so much more direct. I think, AI could do a better job and I welcome that. I felt my cortisol level rising as I shifted from calm pleasure on my ride, to anxious nervousness, noticing how that made it harder to read the map or any useful information around me. I wondered if that was because of how expensive the consultation was, and difficult to get a slot, or because I don’t like being late for anything. Both. I’d actually left plenty of time so it felt punishing and I actually shed a tear.

Still, it was fine when I arrived. After I parked the bike, I noticed a small sign for a dentist. No name of the company, just dentist; so I called there. It was them! I’d thought I was 15 minutes late to a half hour appointment but it turned out she was running late, and all was fine.

She was very thorough and clear in her explanation of the predicament of my root. She spoke fast and showed me diagrams. She had a kind manner and I trusted her, but the treatment would cost about double what I had expected, plus she recommended that I get something else done by my dentist. I knew I must follow what she says, but the cost was going to be considerable, and I would notice it.

Now I think, how apt to be nodded toward this event so anxiously, when it will in fact set me back noticeably. A nudge that this will force me to do things differently perhaps. When I try to choose a payment plan for the dental bill, the system won’t let me, because I don’t earn enough money. The injustice that the poorest who need it, can’t access it. It must be a single big chunk or not at all. I wonder if I should ask my ex, or Dad to help, but neither seem like good options. It’s probably time I just bit it. It makes me want to cry. Self pity? Maybe. It’ll pass and I know it’s also good because it urges me to work harder, make more money, be more mindful. Understand the value of things.

Why have I been so blind to this coming? The bill is teaching me about money; to value it; to create it. And about following my guides. Sometimes I wait too long and they spend years trying to push a message across. I could become much swifter in my response.

Cycling back I decided to drop into my dentist on the other side of the water, so for the first time, I took the ferry. Funnily enough I remembered at the beginning of the year hearing a message from my guides telling me to imagine I was very rich. I knew why – because that would help attract more resources, but I perhaps hadn’t followed the advice enough. They knew I was going to need more money than usual this year, and I wouldn’t have a partner who could help. A few weeks later I bought flights, transport and accommodation for a long trip to America. Now this. I have already increased the amount I am working, and that must continue!

The view after crossing the Thames, looking back at Canary Wharf.

Later in the day at a private view I don’t know who I’m going to see – random people, some artists I know… on a warm evening in Primrose Hill. The surprising thing is I spend most of the time speaking with two people I didn’t know previously. An American guy who wonders about going back to spend time with elderly parents. But the unexpected encounter which colours the rest of my evening is with an artist’s wife, who is an academic. First she speaks about a recent visit to the US, and then I ask if she is South African because of her accent, I mean I know she is. I say my family were; I ask when she moved here, and say mine did in 1963 as they were political (anti-apartheid). A light goes on in her and she asks my surname. I say Bunting and she says she knew Brian and Sonia personally – my great uncle and aunt. Like them, she was a member of the ANC movement and her aunt was their neighbour in Highgate. She attended meetings in their house and knew how dedicated they were. She even knew of my great grandfather, who very few people have heard of now! This was a rare happenstance meeting, sitting on the garden wall outside a gallery.

What strikes me most of all, is that I feel she understands me in a unique way; like a beam shining through me, I feel seen in a way very few people can. She has a deep insight into the way South African exiles in particular processed their situation and has studied it. The way the women often turned to writing, and how well they did this. She has written about this phenomenon and may send me a chapter of one of her books. Not that I am an exile, but it is a latent part of my heritage, and for some reason I connect with it while not all descendants do.

She understands how some of us are intrinsically compelled by our ancestors – their stories ignite us, give us more meaning in our own lives somehow. We need to look back because we see the traces in our lives of why we are where we are, and the trails are curious. When our family before us chose difficult lives – or rather couldn’t help but follow their calling to do what seemed right – because they had powerful beliefs, not just about how they lived but about the whole world or economic social system; they send ripples for generations after. They are often not the best parents because they are so caught up in their beliefs and must live with the consequences like spending time in prison; however they make great ancestors.

Somewhere down the line comes a descendant whose parents were not able to be more present, and she reaches back keenly to feel for messages from the past. It’s like filling in a parenting gap in my sense of purpose. It makes me feel special and it’s part of my identity. It’s not a whimsy; when I read the words they wrote, or were written about them, I feel a bolt of electricity running through me. I feel connected to them, and sense how they knew they were writing or making history not just for their own era, but for a bigger time frame. Writers reach across time, speaking to each other and their readers. When I learnt of how some of my ancestors had such powerful beliefs that it changed their lives as well as contributing to movements towards eradicating racism, undoing colonialism, and lessening the extreme effects of capitalism; it blew my mind!

I’m also deeply concerned with the present; the now; and meditate habitually; try to live in that place. As for the future, I am excited about evolution and spiritual development of humans, and moving beyond physical form. Timelessness intoxicates me. So there are these simultaneous fascinations.

We had begun our discussion about my American communist Grandpa, so she knows I have this extremity from both sides. She looks at me so acutely, and after that I can’t speak to anyone else. I can’t do small talk. I have to leave. I message Brian’s daughter, my Dad’s cousin, on my way home. It’s good to reconnect.

Where am I going? / How does it feel?

I don’t know where I am going and I feel free. My new book of walks outside of London is my freedom pass, following the instructions, climbing over stiles. I am discovering new beautiful places and there are many. (I modelled for a group of women artist friends at The Slade in early March, and one had copies of this book with her. A friend of hers had written it. I knew I had to get it!)

When I go to places where I know people, often I imagine they read my recent post. Their comments to me suggest this without actually saying so. They offer pieces of help and let me know they are supportive as well as appreciative if I am working with them. It is touching. Last night I dreamt that another tutor I work with offered to make me a flyer for one of my shows. Love it!

The post’s purpose was to shift my vibration externally to match where I am at now internally; to keep people and the world aware of who I really am at this time. By doing this I can magnetise everything I need, in the right time. I don’t need money right away, but at some point I will. The post suggests people will help me, but truly the solutions may emerge in all sorts of ways.

Yesterday I went to Coulsdon South with a friend visiting from Germany, and we walked for a few hours along Farthing Down and in Happy Valley. It’s the largest stretch of open green land technically within London, so you can get there on an Oyster card. We spoke of many things including imagining the lives we’d love to have. In five years time say. I don’t think I know all the details, but I would like to live outside of London, in a countryside setting. That means not needing to get around London too much. I’d like to do gardening, have a reasonably sized dog and take it for walks. Would I still make performances? I think I’d prefer to write for a while. Less is more. I have really scaled back on the number of people I try to keep up with in my life in recent years. I’m not a memorialist in terms of friendship. If a friendship isn’t active and current, serving each of us mutually at this time, I let it go. Not that it couldn’t re-emerge, but that the foundation would need to have shifted in relation to the ways we have changed. So we wouldn’t slip back into the old patterns, whatever they were. I am committed to evolving!

Where I live in south east London is really lovely. It is the perfect place for me in the capital. When I walk around my neighbourhood and see the other people on their walks or in the shops, I feel like I belong here. I like the laidback vibe and the green spaces, as well as the more urban places like Deptford nearby. I can walk to the river at Deptford beach at the bottom of Watergate Street. In the other direction, closer to me, I can walk to the top of the hill at Hilly Fields, or the next hill at Telegraph Hill, and see views of London; the city in one direction, Blythe Hill and Crystal Palace in another. There is cheap fresh fruit and vegetables in Lewisham or Deptford markets, and more expensive organic produce in smaller shops scattered about.

My little street is very friendly. I have lived here for over 14 years. For most of those years I hardly knew any of the neighbours, until a few years ago, one hot summer evening, I overheard a mother screaming at her teenage daughter. My window was wide open and they were on the street. Hearing their painful exchange and the girl crying made me feel for her, so I looked to see where they were. Eventually they returned into one of the houses. The next day I called there to check how they were. It was a difficult phase for the family, but I was welcomed in by the other parent who explained what was going on. Ever since then I joined the street WhatsApp group and started attending the annual street party. I witnessed how the teenage girl became less troubled, as she moved to a different school where she felt more accepted. What really struck me was, how much she was supported by other neighbours on our street. Some of them have lived here for decades and know each other well. What had disturbed me about the screaming on the street, was in another sense a sign of how healthy they were, to be so open among their neighbours. They knew they were safe there. I just didn’t know that. The girl had been brought up to be close with various of the neighbours, not just her family. It was an unfamiliar scenario to me, but I was grateful to become aware of it.

Then this year for the first time, several of my neighbours (6 people from 4 households including the teenage girl) came to watch my performance at Telegraph Hill Festival! They saw me naked and doing my thing, and they did drawings of me. That I didn’t like that performance so much may not be so important. There was a milestone with my street! I crossed a different threshold. Even not liking my own show, I felt accepted and supported by my neighbours. For much of my life I have felt like an outsider but that has definitely changed. As astrologers might say, my midheaven is going critical this year. One’s midheaven represents the way others see you, and your role in the community, perhaps what you do for a living.

A tree from another walk in the book, near Chorleywood, also in the Oyster zone. I stopped here to sit on the tree and do some journaling.

On Sexuality, Disability & Mental Health; or Sustainable Living

From when I was a child, I can remember wanting my Mum to be better, wanting to make her happy. It was perhaps the strongest emotional drive in me. Long before she was diagnosed with MS, I knew she was deeply unhappy, which was expressed mainly through her anger. I wanted her to be ok. It was what I wished for when I blew out the candles, or the tooth fairy visited.

So now I attract partners, sometimes friends that I would like to fix. Habit.

Mum did get better. Not physically, but emotionally she is the most reliably happy person in the family. Definitely not angry. To be fair Seroxat has a lot to do with that, but so does my Father’s unerring loving care towards her. Truly in my experience anti-depressants have never suited a person so well. I think knowing she will never move her body again by herself, gives her conscience clear reign at accepting the drugs. Inside she is very sad at what has become of her, but that is successfully suppressed, and she shows immense gratitude for all she does have, always professing sheer joy in her state of being. As well as the suppression of pain, there is the countering effect of transformation, and I do mean spiritual. Mum knows that in the height of her youth and health, she was unable to appreciate what she had, so dogged was she by anger and lack of confidence. Now that she has lost the use of limbs, sometimes eyes, sometimes mind; she knows more keenly what she had previously, but much more than the value of these physical aids, she is now open to love in her life in a way which she never was before. Most people I know on anti-depressants still get depressed, but not Mum. They really work with her, year after year.

from a recent Drawing Theatre session I did with Paul Kindersley

On Wednesday 7th August, Mum will be modelling with Spirited Bodies, and this time (she took part before clothed for portrait with Dad) she will be nude. She is really excited about this, saying that although she doesn’t particularly think her body is beautiful, the idea that people will spend time drawing her is very incredible and uplifting. She says it feels like a gift, and she recognises she may be a role model for other disabled people to take part in future. She may not have a wide pose range, but my Goodness can she hold still.

I still have issues on occasion about being asked to look after her. Doesn’t happen very often. I am busy in my life, the other side of London, whizzing this way and that, my parents have their routine and I don’t see them a lot. My brother and sister are much closer to home. I would resent caring for my Mother as I felt I lost a number of years due to her earlier negativity, lack of love for me. On top of this, I have in recent years felt as if I have lost my Father for the enormous task of taking care of Mum. He is exhausted and needs every bit of free non-family time for himself. So I raised this point not long ago, and now we are in the process of reclaiming that forgotten Father/Daughter relationship which may be the precedent for some of the most crucial relationships I form.

Spirited Bodies is a challenge to keep flourishing – sometimes I recognise in writing the familiar spiel in emails and documents, I have lost some of the necessary passion and zeal to lift this off the ground. Become normal, ordinary, I forget how magical it is! Others in the team get judged by family for putting so much time into life modelling and this project, when before they held high earning jobs, keeping their families in the trappings they are accustomed. This is a real test on relationships, for loved ones to see past the financial value, and appreciate what it is that makes them happy. In our case life modelling and taking that further to others.

model Kayleigh

This societal/monetary pressure is a most damaging force, an unfortunate reckoner, and in this respect I am grateful for my rebellious youth which long ago set a precedent for not being expected to achieve or earn in a certain way. And I surround myself with people who understand that and do not judge me for my nude activities. It can be a harsh shock when I find myself in less than usual territory in the company of ‘normals’! But I am getting better at it.

Attracting a damaged mate has opened up a new vista as I retread the possibilities of more open relationship. I am a dynamic being full of expression and desire, so a physically weaker character with whom I fell in love, cannot hold permanently my capacity. I was getting desperate, thought of splitting up – but we didn’t really want that. I entertained the idea of becoming a surrogate – offering myself for the (sexual) healing of others and my financial gain, but it didn’t quite click. I thought of exercising after long, long pause the lesbian in me, and here I hit a note. I realised my experience of cunt has been so much more limited than mine of cock, and all related hormones. I thought how empowering to feel comfortable with cunt, to know others’ and their ways, not just my own. To know them intimately. Last time I investigated I would have been on drugs or pissed; there was room for so much more exploration. And breasts – if you do not have large ones yourself, how wonderful to feel another’s pendulous pair!

Of all the possibilities this seemed least threatening to my boyfriend, or most reasonable. There is also a feminist argument for it. Men remain so tightly bonded by comparison, and we women must catch up if ever we are to match status. My boyfriend is appreciative of this sentiment.

And so I found myself another lover, and what a difference it makes. She has a delicate touch, so sensual; I feel new with her and myself opening with abandon. I feel such gratitude for this amazing opportunity to be intimate with two people, and I am much more thoughtful and peaceful with my boyfriend as a result. I want to cherish him more and show appreciation for his understanding. Before he felt burdened to try to keep up with my numerous social activities which of course he could not begin to; now this obligation is shared! Both my boyfriend and my girlfriend have varying degrees of social phobia, but spurred on by the prospect of keeping up each of their sides of the bargain, we find harmony. Finally I might not turn up almost everywhere alone (despite having someone at home for me), which sometimes created an awkward impression. Now I can really keep my friends guessing!

On Mental Health: (because recent events have brought me closer to the realm of mental health concerning others)

I learnt young that falling into the system could be damaging. I saw my Grand-Mother drugged in a corner, barely present, except on wild occasion as she stopped her meds, and released the wacky conversations with ghosts in the room. Decades of drugs, Electric-Shock Treatment and institutionalisation took care of her (paranoid schizophrenic) but she looked so innocent to me. She had been the first woman in her town in Lancashire to get into Oxford University where she read English, and met her husband, a colonial type of the old boys network. She had once been very intelligent, not at all ‘mad’, but something had driven her to insanity. After my Grandparents died, old family friends revealed that Grandpa’s blatant affairs had been the trigger; whilst they were living out in Africa, far from her home, and her alone with the children.

As a child I considered; if I was mad and I probably am, I never wanted any authority to get hold of me. The world is mad obviously, so I’d rather take care of myself. I appreciate this doesn’t work for everyone, and that the system though far from perfect, has moved on from ’50s strategies.

I’ve never been attracted to men of a certain class either.

I just wanted to use these lovely pictures which have no direct relation to the post

Spirited Bodies is proud to be part of The Sex Maniacs Ball in September, which is a fundraising event for The Outsiders Trust to enable disabled people to meet partners and celebrate their sexuality. There may be a life modelling workshop, as well as a nude disco along with various other nude activities and therapies.

The Death of Sam

I am with my Mum this evening and we are talking about her step-Father Sam, who died 26 years ago today. Nonny (my Grand-Mother) couldn’t have moved from East Germany to London without the help of a man – not for his money, but his emotional support which she needed after living away for 14 years.

Sam was married but his marriage was definitely on the rocks. In those days both parties had to agree to divorce, or you had to have strong evidence of adultery, desertion (for 7 years), physical or mental cruelty. Nonny and Sam lived in sin for 3 years before his wife cooperated.

As a teenager Mum & her sister Karen said to Sam, “You’re not our Father and you can’t tell us what to do!” He said, “I know.”

Nonny & Sam married on Euston Road at the registry office in 1967.

Mum said he was a good man, especially for Nonny; he looked after her. She was a bit vulnerable and he had the quality of friendship, as well as being her husband and love. He was kind and generous and easily approachable.

Mum says, “As I grew older, I regarded him more as my Father. My real Father only asked me once to come to East Berlin, but it was on my son’s birthday so I couldn’t. I went there on my Dad’s birthday instead. Usually if I wanted to see him I had to invite myself, which I did.

In England, before they were married I was ashamed of Nonny & Sam not being so, and I didn’t know how to introduce Sam – the situation was unusual.”

Sam knew Nonny & Gramp from way back in the late 40s through the Communist party.

Mum says, “After living in East Berlin I vowed never to join the Communist Party, or any party. You might accuse me of sitting on the fence but I speak from experience.”

Nonny & Sam’s marriage was always positive, favourable and stable. He nor she ever did the dirty. She was 45 when they got together; she had been through a lot, lived in several countries and wasn’t having more children. She was ready for a calm life and he was the right man.

When Sam was younger he was devoted to the Communist Party. He founded and ran a non-profit organisation which sold stationery. He did not particularly share artistic interests with Nonny (she was an artist) nor did he have much taste. Nonny made sure he wore nice clothes and he didn’t mind. She wore the trousers in a nice way.

Sam’s influence helped in Mum’s choice of husband. His caring nature proved enduring and Mum was affected by this. His easy going affability won over the volatility represented by her Father.

Sleeping with Mum while she dreams of Venus & Mars

My sister and I are looking after Mum while Dad is taking a rare and much needed break. I am floored once again by what Dad lives with. I am moved by love too.

Mum asks that one of us sleeps in her bed with her, basically because she feels safer like that. This is my call and though the closeness feels right, my sleep is interrupted for her noisy breathing. I do also feel grateful for the intimacy between us now which never there was before.

In the morning lots of energy is needed for all the processes of getting up, and most of that is Rebecca and I getting Mum up. Before breakfast is done I need a nap and we haven’t got ourselves organised yet.

The best part is the conversations that would never otherwise happen. We had hoped to take a bold trip out into Central London as we have done before, but that was without taking into consideration the extra mileage of doing everything else for Mum too. Usually a daytrip works when Dad and a carer have done the first part of the day for us. We are rethinking plans as I write.

Last night Mum dreamt she walked on the planets Mars and Venus, as she was in her 20s. Remarkable – she always dreams of being mobile and young, sometimes walking in outlandish places like the bottom of the ocean. She said she had thought of Botticelli’s painting ‘Venus and Mars’ yesterday.

Rebecca brought us tea in bed before the rigmarole begun. Mum mentioned her lack of confidence in life resulting in her getting few jobs and not having friends. After moving from East Berlin she didn’t really settle here. I remarked that she might have overlooked at least one type of confidence she didn’t lack, which was with men. She was beautiful and was rarely without a boyfriend, sometimes several. To hear her relating her past put fresh light on my own life patterns. I have been working on unpicking them to make positive changes, and I wonder how much more may I do.

I have a very big feeling about spending this quality time with Mum. It strikes me physically; I felt it growing in my belly area a day or 2 before coming here. It’s much bigger than us. It’s about love and it moves me. That she has changed so much, and her condition; she requires us to rethink ourselves makes her into a change-maker. It makes me rethink the way I live.

A few years ago faced with the imminent prospect of dying Mum told us all for the first time that she loved us. That love and openness have been growing.

Sandro Botticelli's 'Venus and Mars' depicts Mars asleep while Venus is awake and alert; meaning that love conquers war or love conquers all

Meeting With Freedom

When the doctor calls in the middle of the night, come to the hospital, this could be it. We don’t know if she’ll make it, but we need to know from you what you would like us to do if – if the life in her is not worth – if when she opens her eyes there is nothing there. They have the power and they need to know, have you thought about it? Yes because it happens each time – different doctors, sometimes different hospital, but each time she is under they have to ask.

Sometimes my instincts check in advance, they are not feeling adrenaline, I am sure this time will pass. Often I am pulled in to the brink on the edge of the rollercoaster seat. By the bedside crying, and appreciating time in the relatives’ suite, because that is the most meaningful conversations the rest of the family ever has with Dad. The family drama; and when the doctor calls, I know now that he is hoping. This time could be his meeting with freedom. He has discussed her wishes with her and the answer is to switch off from a life not worth the trouble. Meanwhile they continue, we keep on.

At the front of The Royal Festival Hall, Lucy and I find a table and furnish it with my large painted Spirited Bodies sign. We discuss the press release, skirting over our brushings with mental health. I was supposed to prepare the meeting we are about to have with our brand new SB models. We’ll wing it; well it’s not like we haven’t done it before. The hardest thing I find is putting myself in the position of someone new to the whole business. Remembering what it was like before nudity was normal, and even then it wasn’t that new to me. And tuning myself to a sensitive mode that is ready for newbies both anxious and nervous, as well as those in it for the craic, or because they just love what we’re doing. I’m a tiny bit nervous but it’s going to be fun.

They arrive one by one, with warm hand shakes and smiles, chairs gradually accumulated from across the room. They find me familiar, I have been emailing them individually, and it’s like we know each other, except now they’re all here I don’t know who each one is. It’s ok. We have important informations to impart and light-hearted anecdotes of bodily fluids and anti-sexual encounters. We – Lucy and I – are on familiar territory, and we pick up after each other. I try to feel what the interested faces are hoping to glean, and they ask about the photographs (for London Drawing) and how to choose poses. It goes well and I am high and full of love afterwards. That’s why we do it, because of them (and us). I love it when they are happy. The artists make another level of content, but for me it’s for the models first. They make me feel both humble and worthy. They are on edge with excitement to meet themselves in a space that is about just being, and being drawn. And they will be together, as in a drama, complimenting and interacting with each other, creating a story where there are bodies. We will be guiding them, but now already these that we have met, know more what to expect. Their minds will imagine and start to build the scene of the next event. The seeds are gestating in time for a rich bloom.

Crazy Cousin

10 years ago I heard through my family, that a second cousin of mine had been sectioned in a mental hospital; he was only 18 and I didn’t know him. I did know what his Mother was like however, and my ears pricked up. I suspected immediately that rather than insane, he had simply been misunderstood. His Mother was very over-protective and any normal teenager might be deemed crazy by the reactive backlash her overbearing may produce.

I paid him a visit and felt confirmed of my theory. He had been driven to some minor violence and locked away. Oh and experimented with hard drugs, which were now more available to him than when he lived at home. He was of course drugged up on prescription pills, and had a new set of friends on the ward, who were troublesome enough to help keep him sane. We became firm friends; I knew I could fill a unique role where other relatives would fail. Having gone off the rails myself I knew that if I hadn’t had the freedom I’d had in those formative years, I could have ended up in the scary place he was. As it was I was able to find the best possible place and friends with which to share that experimental time. My crazy cousin was no more mad than we had been, except that a duality of a loving/repelling relationship with his Mother blocked his potential to find commune elsewhere. In this light my own Mother’s seeming hatred of me was a blessing; she’d had no problem freeing me.

Growing up became a big ordeal for my cousin; there were several episodes in hospital, rounds of medication, sheltered housing, therapy. Other people in the family didn’t know what to make of him, but I remained constant. He grew enormous for a few years on the drugs, and let his hair and his beard get longer and wilder. His room was a state of filth with quantities of porn, piled, scattered. But he did learn to cook and sometimes accommodated my non meat-eating ways, even if he threw a steak on his own plate to balance the vegetable overload.

He was shy of women as girlfriends, but comfortable as their friend. Most of the people in his family were women, and when he was housed with lots of people I saw many girls come to him for counsel. When he got better his sisters invited him to stay for long periods.

Confidence takes such a long time to establish, and normal work has eluded him. He is much better now though and been off the meds for some years. He looked like a new man when last we met in the Summer, much slimmed down and clean-shaven. He was doing some voluntary work and about to begin a course in Autumn. He wanted to take me out for a meal, he has ever been grateful to have a kindred spirit to talk to. I remember nearly 3 years ago, he came to see a show I performed with a friend, and in the opening scene, I climbed out of a suitcase, naked. I had not warned anyone prior to performance of the nudity, and it was my cousin who decided never to come to one of my show’s again! At least he always asks now if there will be me naked in the show and on finding there will be he declines invitation. I guess it just feels wrong to see one’s family naked for some.

My cousin took a picture of me in Highgate Wood

I met my cousin when I was in the middle of a long relationship with an Italian, and had become somewhat estranged from friends of my wilder youth. My cousin was not dissimilar to some of the men I used to know, and I guess being away from them made me warm to him the more; he bridged a gap, and did not arouse Massimo’s jealousy! I grew very fond of my cousin and he laid down a lifelong foundation in me for a love of bears – men who are big and gentle, kind and strong.

Esther Bunting