Monday 24 August 2015

Just Another Flower in the Garden - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg

In the Garden:

Though aphids eat hibiscus leaves
its flowers will still bloom -
with blossoms big as dinner plates
on lofty stalks they'll loom.
Some lilies that we thought were pink
burst out in scarlet red,
and since I've seen them all abloom
I'd not choose pink instead.
I've other lilies also -
some yellow and some cream
that sport bright fuchsia centers
and blend with colour scheme.
Coneflowers are so healing,
and here they are profuse.
I ought to sit here daily
and put them to good use.
Oh garden you're not perfect,
I've noticed mildew spots,
seen weeds and damaged flowers
and work unfinished - lots.
The snails munched on my hostas -
their leaves are ragged now;
the pink hydrangeas - how they thirst!
Their heavy heads they bow.
Yet in this imperfection
is feast for hungry eye,
and languid scent of lavender
my nose cannot deny.
I close my eyes and feel it -
a breeze upon my face -
my senses all respond to
the magic of this place.

- By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, August 13th, 2014

My garden is a lot of work. I spend hours weeding it each week, and it still never looks perfect. When I inspect my efforts carefully there's always some weed that escaped my eye. I give it a good watering when the local bylaws tell me I can, and a splash of water from my trusty old tin watering can between times, but too often it looks dry. It struggles to be healthy - aphids and snails and powdery mildew constantly conspire against me and my plants. It can be extremely frustrating to put so much effort into something that never achieves the pristine perfection of gardens seen in magazines.

When that sort of frustration sets in I give myself a shake. That kind of airbrushed, colour enhanced glossiness is an unrealistic goal for my garden, which does the best it can with less than ideal soil, an inexperienced gardener, watering restrictions and weeds that can't be sprayed away. In spite of its many disadvantages, my garden grows and blooms and gives me pleasure.

Some of the things that I thought I didn't want in my garden - like the giant red lilies that we thought would bloom pink - have ended up being things that thrill me most. The twisty trees that I love so much were a last minute substitution for the landscaper's first choice, which was on backorder. She was hesitant about putting them in, but I can't imagine any other trees filling those spots so nicely.

In contrast, some of the things we were initially excited about haven't lived up to our expectations. The new trees we put in along the back fence are thirsty little guys - not at all well suited to an area that often battles summer droughts and has watering restrictions permanently in place. If I had unlimited resources I'd replace them with something heartier. But then again, if I had a ton of money to work with I'd have hired professionals to come and tend the garden for me, and I'd have sprinklers on timers to ensure that my plants and trees get every ounce of water that they're allotted.

I've come to see gardening as the perfect analogy for life. We don't always get what we think we planted - and sometimes that makes for wonderful surprises when we discover unexpected hidden abilities and rise to challenges that we could've never foreseen. We constantly re-arrange things to achieve maximum satisfaction and highlight the best and brightest aspects of our lives. We battle invasive weeds and pests and fight to build strong roots in what is often somewhat inhospitable soil. Life is a lot of work - and it's not always terribly gratifying.

The more time I spend in my garden, the more aware I become of the fact that I'm just another small plant in the vast garden of humanity. I'm just a single green shoot struggling to break through to the surface and enjoy some sunlight. I'm a tender young planting trying to get established in a patch of soil that has rocks that threaten to crush my roots and weeds that threaten to strangle them. I'm a fragile green shoot opening my leaves to the sun, sending out hesitant buds and hoping they'll bloom before the bunnies arrive to nip them off. I'm a lily in full flower, a hydrangea looking for water and the woody shoot of old growth patiently waiting for new buds to take hold on me and prove my worth.

Some flowers will thrive, while others barely survive. Some will wither and die without blooming. Some will be choked by weeds. Some will wither from the root. Some won't survive the weeds that overpower them. Some will suffer from too few nutrients, or too little water.

Every one of us, as flowers in this common garden will face multiple challenges. We'll expect ourselves to bloom longer than we will. We'll be impatient with the constraints placed on us - curse the bad soil we were planted in, the rain for not falling generously upon us, or the sun for not placing us in the spotlight. We may feel neglected by those we've counted on as caretakers. None of us want to be a host for aphids or sport black spot, but it happens. And in spite of these blights in our lives, most of us will manage some bloom time anyway.

Every flower wants to be the most perfect specimen in the garden. Every flower can't be the most perfect specimen in any garden. And that's because gardens are made up of all kinds of flowers, perfect and imperfect, straggling, struggling and staggeringly beautiful.

Real beauty, in any garden, comes from the contrasting shapes and sizes and colours of the plantings. A rose will always be bigger than a violet, but the larger size and flashier nature of one doesn't detract from the beauty of the other. A lush, gorgeous garden is full of differing flowers all blooming at different times, ceding their place of prominence to those who bloom later. Tulips don't compete with asters - they don't need to because each knows its place and season. The ornamental grasses have their place among the blossoms, and the bright foliage of some plants more than compensates for their lack of flowers. When all are sown together they can all be part of a glorious riot of colour and texture that could never be achieved if each was expected to stand alone.

The happiest flowers understand that they're all part of a garden - no more important than the plant next to them. They don't allow themselves to compare their fading glory to the fresh shoots that are just coming on. They just bloom as brightly as they can, for as long as they can.

Enjoy the sun, soak up the rain, and remember, fellow flowers - there is beauty in imperfection. Fading flowers have their place, and the blossoms that persist above the mildew deserve to be admired.

Bloom on.

Wednesday 5 August 2015

Mine to Keep Covered, Thanks -by Sharon Flood Kasenberg

Ontario - Yours to Uncover!

A girl from Guelph
left bra on shelf
deciding to bare all -
went on crusade
breasts on parade -
to modesty recall.
"A woman's right!"
she claimed her fight
for us to tops remove,
but most of us
despite her fuss
heartily disapprove.
Biology
is wired, you see
and shouldn't be denied.
Since proof attests
men look at breasts
mine will, in clothes reside.
Women who shout
their breasts to "out"
would be first to call foul
on any man's
chauvinist plans
to let his fingers prowl.
That's not to say,
in any way
that touching is excused.
Consent's required
for what's desired
and none should be abused.
Brushing an arm
does not alarm
nor a touch on the hand,
but touch a breast?
Now we're distressed!
Thus we should understand
that if a breast
is like the rest
of any of our parts
there's no excuse
to claim abuse
for touching when it starts.
But I'm hands off
for I'll not doff
nor bare for all to see.
With pride unfeigned
I'll have retained
a bit of mystery.
Since that parade
a case was made
so women could breasts show.
Nobody stops
girls without tops
here in Ontario.
Or no one would
(it's understood)
if any female dared.
It can be done,
so where's the fun?
A very few have bared.
And while her cause
did change our laws
it's obvious to me
that while some try,
we can't deny
breasts' sexuality.

Sharon Flood Kasenberg, August, 2007

Exactly eight years after I wrote this poem there was a topless rally in Uptown Waterloo. According to reports there were about five hundred supporters, but many kept their breasts covered. I've lived in this area for a dozen years, and I've only seen one topless woman the entire time. And that's fine with me. If I had my way men would have to keep their shirts on in public places too. In Panama, men can be arrested for going shirtless in public. If a man wants to take his shirt off he goes to a beach or a private pool, or stays in his yard. I have no objection to women being able to take their tops off in these same settings. But in public places I think society would be better served if we all kept our shirts on.

I think before we get in an uproar about who can do what where, we need to determine which "public places" lend themselves to going topless and which don't.

Would you want to be served in a restaurant by a topless waitress? Would you want to have your blood taken by a topless nurse? Would you want your court case tried by a topless lawyer?

I don't believe that taking our shirts off makes a huge statement about women's rights or rape culture.

I am not an apologist for rapists. Rape is never excusable. From a strictly logical point of view, most can see where an occasion might arise that makes stealing or killing necessary. Most of us would steal to feed ourselves or our families if we were starving. Most of us are capable of using violent force against those who threaten our lives, or the lives of those around us. There are circumstances that make these crimes justifiable, but rape can never be justified. I don't care what anyone is wearing or not wearing - to blame the victim for another person's complete lack of self control and morality is always absolutely wrong.

I am not a prude. I like sex, and because I do, I'm going to say something that a lot of those topless rally attendees will heartily disagree with.

I think breasts are sexual. Men often feel aroused when they look at breasts. I'd hazard a guess that men have had lustful thoughts triggered by the sight of breasts since the beginning of time. Taking off our shirts isn't going to make lust go away. Lust isn't the problem anyway, because rape isn't triggered by sexual desire, but by a desire to physically overpower another human being. While most men will look at breasts that are exposed, and they might feel a momentary pang of desire, the vast majority will never feel the urge to rape. But they will be distracted. I'm not saying that men are all pigs because I don't think that's the case at all. Women tend to be a whole lot less visual than men, but if men suddenly stopped wearing pants a whole lot of women would be distracted too.

I think breasts are sexual. Women's breasts experience sexual pleasure. (I said it! I know it's something we're not supposed to own up to these days, but I thought I'd stir the pot a bit by stating what is obvious to a lot of us.) I know that breasts serve a utilitarian purpose when we feed our young. I get that. I know that breast feeding is natural and best for infants, but I never felt a strong urge to bare my breasts while feeding my children. I don't regard my breasts as being just another body part - on par with a hand or a foot. I don't like strangers touching me anywhere, but if someone touches my hand I'm not too freaked out. If someone touches my foot, I'll think they're weird, but I'll get over it. But if someone touches my breast I will feel threatened. I'll probably even feel violated enough to press charges.

I think most women feel the same way.

I don't want biology to be denied. Why should it be? We live in a time when homosexuals are no longer allowed to be discriminated against. We understand and respect the fact that there are biological factors that contribute to people's sexual preferences. We are becoming more aware of biological factors that contribute to mental illness, and we're learning to be compassionate to those who suffer from its effects. Generally speaking we're becoming more aware of our "biology" in a myriad of ways, so it seems hypocritical to me that we've become so adamant about denying biology when it comes to breasts and their part in sexual arousal. Men feel desire when they look at them. Women like having them touched during consensual sexual encounters.

I think it would be a shame if seeing breasts became so commonplace that they didn't give any of us any sensual pleasure anymore. I don't like to think that there would ever be a time when a stranger could turn to me and casually remove a piece of lint off my breast without me batting an eye. I find it hard to believe that these same women who want to go shirtless would be comfortable having men brush up against their breasts in a crowd. And I think that most women would feel threatened by having another woman massage her breasts in front of their sexual partner. That's where I think the "scratch test" might be helpful in determining what is appropriate to show. If you can't scratch or rub that part in public without it appearing lewd, than you probably should keep it covered up.

One comment I've heard repeatedly since this issue came to the forefront again is that "we should be desensitizing people to the sight of bare breasts."

I see a problem with this too. If we raise our daughters to believe that their breasts aren't private, how many cases of child abuse may go unreported when the perverts of this world give the child the argument that if breasts were private they'd be covered like our other sexual parts are, so it doesn't matter if he touches them? I would argue that encouraging daughters to go shirtless could facilitate grooming in pedophiles, because half the battle is convincing the little girl that it's okay if her breasts are touched.  Parents can try the "people can look but not touch" approach, but had things been presented that way to me as I child,  I think I would've asked why looking was okay but not touching.

I am not advocating that we look upon breasts with shame. I like being a woman and I like having breasts. I'm not giving any man the green light to ogle or to make sexual comments, and I don't feel that I'm encouraging a rape culture by advising women to think twice before allowing their breasts into the public domain. I'm just saying that "look but don't touch" sends out a mixed message.

If they're private parts that others shouldn't be casually touching, then maybe we should cover them up. Deny your own biology all you want, but my breasts are sexual, and that makes them private.

I'll be keeping my shirt on, thanks.