More and more it seems hard to stay oneself.
Surrounded by pressures and people who want you to hear what they think you should do, how you should be, Life becomes a comedy where you can’t tell the angels from the evil ones, because so much of Life is shadowed by strange hieroglyphs and hints. Moreover, there are confusions that are quite accidental. At least, you hope they are accidental.
Oh how I despise the Great British Hint! I don’t know why people do this. It drives me completely mad. It’s not quite the same, but something of the frustration of Eliza Doolittle getting fed up with romance and wanting Freddy Eynsford-Hill to demonstrate his love for her without too much chat – reflects back how I feel about this non-chatting phenomenon. He’s getting all wordy, in fact, while she wants real things. He thinks she’s doing some attractive kind of street language, while all the time she is learning to speak Received Pronunciation. This is in order to get away from her Cockney background, so she can make a go of it – in Retail.
Today I needed shoes. I very rarely go to clothes shops, but shoes have to be good, especially for me, as these days I walk like a Thunderbirds puppet – I need all the help I can get.
Many actors, thinking about a forthcoming character, think about the shoes first. What shoes would my character choose? If I get the shoes right, the walk will be right. My outlook on life will be right. People will accept the character – my character – for what it is. At the same time, they say in show business: “If they are looking at your shoes, you are losing.” But, yes… that would be right… because if you get the shoes right, bringing about the correct walk, character and so-on, they WON’T be looking at your shoes because your performance will be compellingly correct. For the character.
So I bought some shoes at a shop with staff members who were very helpful. Two of them were from Gujurat in India. The shoes were made in Vietnam (I was told). Water is a subject relevant to both of these countries. The paddy fields of Vietnam (I know nothing about Vietnam but I can see watery fields of rice in my mind’s eye) and the Monsoon seasons of Gujurat. One of these assistants, who had a red dot painted on her forehead – a ‘bindi’, I read – confirmed that it was a sign of a particular spirituality. There is a particular Hindu festival celebrated at the moment which centres on the Goddess Amba, she told me, and she loves to mark these festivals.
Amba, I read, is a representative of the ‘divine feminine’ – which is an expression I’ve heard my sister use. She is very motherly, very all-encompassing (‘universal’) in love. She protects with her many arms. She is strong, resilient, almost warrior-like in her maternal aspects. Oh, how I’d love it if Amba would bring all the things I read she can bring, like inner strength, family harmony, self-confidence.
Has anyone noticed it is the fiftieth year since the Sex Discrimination Act and the institution of the Equal Opportunities Commission (1975)?
If there were just a bit more ‘divine feminine’ I am sure we’d fare better.
Back to shoes. This Gujurati lady helped me focus. I need the shoes for particular business-like things. I didn’t need the pink and white ones that were in the sale. I needed both practical and quietly stylish. I chose the right thing, very relieved.
I read that to worship Amba cleanliness is important before the ‘puja’ (holy rite before the shrine). You sprinkle the ground with – guess what – holy water (‘Ganga Jal’). And you bathe. And you put on clean clothes. I would have had a shower this morning but…
I shall not speak of our domestic wet room problems at the current time. I may use the instructions my husband has put together to combat bathroom condensation during my first go at improvisational comedy. This, I hope, will happen at the weekend.
Here is Audrey in some attractive black heels, I think.