07 February 2014

Some things seem to get more complicated. Maybe Ireland in the early 1980s was more radical than I thought at the time. I think I was once asked to go upstairs because "granddad was coming". Obviously, I stayed put and he didn't seem to mind.


  1. Synchronicity.

    I'm rereading Tess of the D'Urbervilles: A Pure Woman Faithfully Presented, by Thomas Hardy. Just read the part where her younger siblings bring her infant to the harvest field so that she can nurse him:

    "Tess, with a curiously stealthy yet courageous movement, and with a still rising colour, unfastened her frock and began suckling the child.

    The men who sat nearest considerately turned their faces towards the other end of the field, some of them beginning to smoke; one with absent-minded fondness, regretfully stroking the jar that would no longer yield a stream. All the women but Tess fell into animated talk, and adjusted the disarranged knots of their hair."

    Thank you for your part in creating this unexpected and rich juxtaposition today. Love the timeless clarity in the eyes of the babies in that video!

    It's been such a gift to my life to be in the presence of babies and their clarity with a new conscious awareness, now that I am old enough to be a great-grandmother.

  2. Tits are simply mammary glands.
    I don't think it is an attachment to their mother's breasts that cause men to worship breasts but actually simple marketing and fashion. Maybe. Obviously, I don't really know but I find it funny how uncomfortable people get over a mother nursing her baby and it may very well be something simple and innocent like men and women want to watch as a mother nurses her child attracted by the wholesomeness and natural act. But, given the sexual obsession with breasts, they feel uncomfortable looking and so avoid looking and then get resentful because they feel they can't look. And so on.