Scotland and Aye

by Sophia Wasiak Butler

  Almost every woman must have experienced something of the over-protective father or brother who is indifferent, bordering on disapproving of her choice of boyfriend. This causes a severe conflict in the psyche. I can imagine Freud sitting behind the proverbial couch, pronouncing the verdict: ‘Oedipus never sleeps!.’ We all know the theory, but somehow, we do not register that it is natural for a five-year-old to find that no one is as amazing as their Daddy! He is the strongest, bravest and most magnificent person in the world. If you are a little boy, you want to become him and win someone as lovely as your Mummy, and as a little girl, you wish to meet someone just like Daddy. As we grow, our eyes (hopefully) flutter open and we begin to hit maturity when we can see our parents as people in their own right, without idolising or vilifying them. In short, we have grown up when we treat our parents like children!

  The mother and father within are important motions within our psyche. Do not fret if your biological parents leave much to be desired, or simply have never been there – we assimilate the energies we need from other people in our lives and from those, we fashion our own internal guidance systems. The question really is – what is your frame of reference? What are the paradigms of character and worth which you value? We can glean much about our internal motivations and often unconscious belief systems through these questions.

  Blesséd be the uncles, grandfathers, older brothers, teachers, social workers and friends who provide us with the guidance so necessary for our development. I once read that it would take nine fully enlightened individuals to meet a child’s needs; for those of us who have not been so lucky, we can be grateful for the patchwork of paternal faces who people our world. Without them, we would sorely struggle to function in the world of: ‘thought, of manmade things, law and order, of discipline, of travel and adventure’ (Fromm). I can happily go forward in life, safe in the knowledge that ‘He (my Daddy) loves me’! A heartfelt ‘Thank-you’ to my fantastic Dad and all those who take the task of guiding youth into flowering as morally autonomous human beings seriously.

  A New Chapter

  The time between August and September is known the ‘Indian summer’. It actually originated in the USA and was a term which crept into prairie farmers’ lexicon. It is often mistakenly thought to have originated in the days of the British colonisation of India. It is the transitional time from the light and warmth of the summer, into the rusty colours and sounds of autumn; when the energy of intensity begins to settle. A certain pause takes place when we stop to feel it. This sweet and mellow time of year ushers in the harvest.

  In love, passion recedes into introspection; it is a time for addressing and assimilating the sometimes flashing tempers of summer and highly charged emotions in relationships. As the conkers drop to the ground, life feels a little more serious than in the heat and we tend towards nostalgia and a touch of melancholia as the evenings draw in and the colourful carpet of leaves weans us from the bright days into the bleaker mornings to come.

  After eating macrobiotically for just six months, you start responding to natural rhythms. They guide you like a compass, as moods and cravings calm themselves. The whole grains and vegetables hold you on an even keel, not often rocked by urgent cravings for sugar or comfort foods. I find myself living according to the law of attraction and repulsion with regards to ‘rubbish’ thoughts and words, phrases and associations which we are constantly accumulating (mostly unconsciously). I can hear my inner voice in the quiet times now; she tells me that when I start skidding, I must steer in the direction in which I am pushed, only this way is eventual equilibrium regained.

  After a two year wait, Ania’s wedding finally arrived and our ‘Snob Club’ reassembled in Kraków. Our little conglomerate; a mixture of pure bloods and mongrels, all living in the Polish diaspora could not wait to meet up again. Kraków came to each us the first time as a stop gap: we were reluctant to completely relinquish studentdom and begin ‘serious’ life. I was curious to see how we had all moved on.

  I was pleased to see that some things do not change; our favourite barman and dear friend Maciek served us our remembered favourites in ‘Wódka’ (vodka) bar. We had to recognise that each of us was adrift in the world and once again, the homeland brought out the spark we needed to return to our lives with renewed gusto; for soulless jobs to be left, dissertations to be written and serious plans to be laid.

  The wedding was a wonderful fusion of traditions and cultures; the Italians were not sure what to do with the rice (our version of confetti), how to handle the Polish vodka which was flowing ceaselessly from open buckets and the meaning of the bramy’ positively baffled them. In the spirit of the 2010 South African Fifa World Cup; vuvuzelas were pulled from the Italian cars during the negotiations to allow the bride and groom to pass!

  At some point during the reception, the language barriers began to fade away. When we shouted “Gorzko! Gorzko!” – meaning ‘bitter’ – the bride and groom had to kiss to sweeten the atmosphere, and as the kisses became more and more passionate, the guests howled with delight. At which point the men on the groom’s side put a shoe in their mouths and began a tango of sorts amongst themselves. We are still unsure whether this is a custom, or simply the effect of our Wyborowa vodka!

  Living together in Kraków as a family would be a brilliant prospect for The Snobs! We struck up a deal: if in time to come we find ourselves isolated and lonely, we will all return and open a bar together. A contingency plan made in heaven! Even if it never comes to pass, the thought itself cushions the harsher blows of life in which we learn the lessons we need, to become who we are to be.

  A new chapter begins now for Ania as Mrs Esposito, and for William and I: new paths. The miraculous alchemy of transforming William and me into ‘us’ didn’t happen and we separated like oil and water. In relationships we find out more about ourselves than we care to know. So why do we bother to engage in them?! Yes, for the obvious; sharing, companionship and beating everyday challenges together. But on a deeper level the purpose of relationships is to learn how to love. Love isn’t just for the lucky ones, it’s for those who are willing to learn.

  In times of acute distress, I always find myself reaching out for philosophies which put things into perspective. The urgency of despair drives us to the brink of madness and sometimes beyond. How can we love fiercely and passionately and be expected to ‘get over it’, ‘move on’ and ‘accept it’ when we don’t want to?! It is an incomprehensible business. It is difficult to know when to fight and when to accept; does surrender mean inaction? How can we act when we cannot trust our instincts, because they are so coloured by our emotional drive? Can we ever come back from hurting each other deeply?

  By all accounts, this seems to be a ripe time for spiritual development. There is something about the depth of agony and pain which activates the immediateness of life; colours look more distinct, everything tastes sharper, every conversation you engage in feels divinely inspired; gleaning untold pearls of wisdom. For those of you who, like me are experiencing this state, intermingled with a total trust in the universal order, the consolation is that many people have become enlightened in these situations! The great mystic Osho would instruct couples who had parted to kneel at one another’s feet, expressing gratitude for the opportunity of coming into contact with their own pain, provided by the other (something which never comes into our minds to do before the coffin is nailed shut).

  I feel that our general approach to ending relationships in our civilisation is comparable to war. Both sides are hurt in different ways and suffering heavy losses; there can be no winners. I know that a day will come on our planet, when people will leave relationships peacefully, lovingly and respectfully. According to Neale Donald Walsh, this will take the form of the ‘As you wish’ and the ‘I want for you what you want for you’ ethos which will govern all human relationships as we continue our spiritual and emotional evolution.

  I grow tired of being suspended between healing and growth: thoughts a
nd impulses battle one another as I sit, surrendering all to the universe. On miserable days, when positive thinking would get a kick in the posterior, I think back to something I once heard: each soul has agreed to this life, to learn the lessons offered. Many times, it is the people who are the closest to us, the ones with whom we have shared many lives, who agree to teach us the toughest lessons. When the dark night of the soul comes calling and the tears fall faster than the leaves from the autumn trees, this belief helps me. Perhaps it is worth examining any ‘enemies’ we have declared in our lives, people we have condemned. A reversal of this process is fundamental to the completion of it: we must also let ourselves off the guilt-hook with compassion, for any wrongs we have committed. In the eyes of the soul, there is only love – sometimes it is misguided – but each person will be reduced to this vibration again, until we are pulled into the next adventure!

  Forgiveness happens. It is a spontaneous combustion, not something which can be rushed into or consciously attained. I comfort myself with the knowledge that if something is meant to be, it will be and that everything happens according to the divine plan. We never lose when we love because wisdom and tenderness only grow when we tend to our inner landscapes. In the words of Randy Pausch, a man who knew he was dying when he gave his TED lecture, “Experience is what you get when you don’t get what you want.” Even when all cheerfulness abandons me, nature’s declining and resurgent cycles are a source of hope, even for a bruised heart like mine. One thing is certain; we must always have the energy, no matter how poor the harvest, to sow the seeds of hope once again. I find myself gently leaning on Scarlett O’Hara’s “Tomorrow is another day.”

  As the house returned to bricks and mortar, slowly emptied of our memories; of the goats who ate our vegetable plot, of the exceedingly numerous potato yield, the ordeal of finding Caine the bachelor some company; Hamish appeared bearing pomegranates. We sat with the ruby juice rolling down our chins in silence, as though time didn’t matter, whilst I desire with all my being that memory, the most subjective editor who retouches the past, will leave me only the sunny days. The old goat never fails to disappoint and I only realise the full impact of his last ‘teaching’ when I am in solitude. “You know my dear.” he begins, with a coy smile which quickly fades as his eyes sweep over the meadows, “There is not one person who has truly lived, who would wish to be young again. It would be hellish, to repeat all one’s lessons, to experience the insecurities of youth! It becomes obvious that there can be no regrets, because we have done what we can with the resources available to us at the time.” He sighs and smiles. With those words, he turns on his heel and like a Cherokee Indian, leaves without a goodbye.

  Instinctively we always know when it’s time to leave, even if we don’t have a particular place to go.

  The Snob club at Ania’s Wedding

  After the End

  Dear Reader,

  If you’re still reading, I hope you enjoyed the journey.

  I know that I will never come back here and even if I do, it will not be a return, just a visit. I shall carry the landscape of Scotland with me forever.

  Although I’m in the region of the doldrums now, I shall be watching the sky and the weather with reasonable interest. I will go where the wind blows, believing in T.S. Eliot’s words: “What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from”.

  Until then,

  Sophia Wasiak Butler.

  PS. As for Hamish, I know we will meet again.

  Copyright

  Published by Clink Street Publishing 2019

  Copyright © Sophia Wasiak Butler 2019

  First edition.

  The author asserts the moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior consent of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that with which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  978–1–912562–07–7 paperback

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