Our first home is our mother’s womb. Then we enter the external world and our residence changes. But wherever we are, home always starts with our body.
As we age, our rapport with our body changes. Sometimes we look in the mirror and feel disorientated. We look for a person who no longer exists. But all it takes is some reconfiguration to feel at home again.
To prepare for old age, we need to get our bodies in shape. Keep it simple. If you start off with a hardcore regime, you may quickly burn yourself out.
Flexibility deteriorates with age. Poor flexibility affects our muscles as it stiffens and shortens them making even simple activities (such as bending to pick something up off the ground) more difficult. Lack of flexibility can also lead to cervical degeneration, chronic back pain, and difficulties in keeping our balance.
Regular stretching helps to loosen us up and not look like zombies. And for those who spend hours at the computer or doing handwork, stretching can straighten us so we don’t look like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. DESCLAIMER: this is a routine that I’ve invented for myself. It’s great for me but I have no qualifications other than my own experience.
Marily and I were sitting on her balcony listening to the cicadas because, she said, it was a form of Zen. I was trying to translate the cicadas’ sound into onomatopoeia when I saw this striking woman walk by. She was tall, very thin and elegantly dressed. Who is that? I asked Marily. Sissi of Baveria, she replied. Sissi has a home here on Corfu known as the Achilleion designed with the Greek hero Achilles in mind. The Empress not only had much admiration for the Greek culture, she adored Achilles because he despised all mortals and had no fear of the gods. Just like her.
For a while I continued to think about those Zen cicadas. Their sound comes from the males who rub themselves trying to get the females’ attention. If a female likes the sound, she’ll snap her wings giving the male permission to put the move on her. But there was nothing about these stridulating cicadas that could grab my attention as Sissi had.
The next day I went for a walk near the Achilleion and saw Sissi ride past me on horseback. I tried to get as close as possible for a good look at her but she quickly whipped out a fan and hid her face only to provoke my curiosity even more.
So when I got back into town, I immediately began to torment Marily for information. There is no one on the island who knows about local happenings as much as she does. So, obviously, Marily had much info to share.
Sissi, aka Empress Elisabeth of Austria, was a Capricorn like me. At the age of 16, she was given in marriage to Emperor Franz Joseph I of Austria. He hadn’t fallen in love with her because they had anything in common but because of her beauty. Life at court was totally alien to Sissi’s Bavarian upbringing. Unable to control much of anything on the home front, she became maniacal about the only thing she could control—her body.
To keep in shape, there was a gymnasium in every one of Sissi’s homes that included weights, exercise bars, and gymnastic rings. She also walked obsessively for hours with her dog and spent hours horseback riding. Sissi’s diet consisted mainly of raw veal juice, fruit, milk, and, for a thrill, violet bon-bons.
The Empress’ hair was so long (down to her knees) that it often gave her headaches. Daily care took time and effort. First gloved attendants placed a white sheet on the floor to catch any fallen hairs which were then presented to Sissi in a silver dish and catalogued. The brushing and massaging took three hours (Sissi would read and study languages during the process) and every two weeks, her hair was washed in egg yolk and cognac.
Sissi’s beauty routine included body wraps made from seaweed and hay, olive oil baths, and facial masks of strawberries, honey, and raw veal. She also used creams made from slugs and never went anywhere without a face mist. Her favorite was made from violets, vinegar, and distilled water. The violets were infused with the vinegar for a couple of days then strained, mixed with the water, and placed in a spray bottle.
Afraid of being immortalized as an aging beauty, in her early 30s Sissi no longer allowed photographs to be taken of her.
On the morning of September 10, 1898, Sissi and her lady-in- walked the short distance from the hotel in Geneva and to the docks to catch a steamship. On the way Luigi Lucheni, an Italian anarchist, stabbed her with a sharp file. The two ladies thought it was a robbery attempted and hurried to board the ship. Here Sissi lost consciousness. Once lying down, her tightly laced corset was cut open and she immediately bleed to death. For it had been the corset that had kept her from bleeding to death immediately. She was not yet 60 years old.
It was noon on Wednesday, right smack in the middle of the week, right in between here and there when I boarded the train towards Kent. My compartment was full, mainly middle aged women wearing tweed and reading books. But there was a man sitting across from me who would occasionally stare at the passengers faces then start scribbling in a little black notebook he awkwardly held on his lap. At Canterbury many people got off the train and when we started off again, I found myself alone in the compartment with the scribbler who now focused his stares on me before scribbling away. Well I’m a woman and a direct descendent of Pandora, the one with the Box. So I looked him straight in the eye and said: Sir, just what in the world are you writing about and what does it have to do with me? The man seemed quite startled by my question but then took a deep breath and started to explain.
Let me introduce myself, he began. My name is Charles Darwin and I’m a naturalist researching the relationship between facial expressions and emotions. I laughed to myself and thought, Well, I must be a naturalist, too, because I’m always reading faces (especially Hugh’s) to see what people are thinking.
But then he proceeded to explain how the face is full of involuntary muscles, muscles that move without our conscious control. In other words, our face speaks without thinking. Intrigued, I asked Darwin if certain emotions made involuntary muscles move in a certain way, what would happen if one would purposely move an involuntary muscle (as actors do all the time)? Would one automatically feel the emotion that went with it? I mean, if I smile, will I automatically be happy? If I frown, will I automatically be unhappy? Ha, it didn’t take an expert in involuntary muscles to know that I’d put Darwin on the spot. He was stumbling around with words when we arrived in the station and, with great relief, Darwin tipped his hat and said good-bye.
Fascinated by these mimetic muscles, I decided to experiment with learning to suppress bad emotions simply by controlling my facial expressions. Because if your face follows your emotions, why can’t you make your emotions follow your face?
The facial expressions most often used reflect happiness, sadness, fear, disgust, anger, and surprise. And here are the muscles moved:
When you smile, one of the main muscles you use is the zygomaticus muscle which pulls the corners of the mouth upward and outward.
Sadness stresses the brows and thus moves the corrugator muscles as well as the procerus…
Fear moves th platysm, a muscles that goes from th neck to the mandibola.
Disgust makes you sneer and move the levator labii nose muscles.
Anger make you glare activating the orbicularis oculi muscles
When we reach a certain age, our face is like a map showing the paths our emotions have travelled the most. To mellow out the signs of time and negative feelings, we can do facial exercises. The exercises will increase blood and oxygen flow back into the skin and reduce muscle tension.
Start off by relaxing the face with massaging the temples, the eyeball, and the eyebrows. Place your index finger in the space between the brows and, in a clockwise direction, gently rotate your finger. Massage. This point sometimes known as the Yingtang corresponds to the third eye position. This exercise can activate the brain and ease tension. For 30 seconds.
Being grumpy makes the mouth droop so stick your tongue out and move it left to right and back for several count to uplift your expression.
Thinking too much? To smooth forehead, use your fingertips to massage in a circular motion.
For sagging cheeks massage and gently chop cheeks with both hands for about 2 minutes. Loss of collagen makes us droop.
For a drooping chin, lay on bed, head hanging over edge and do chin ups by lifting and lowering head. Repeat 5 times.
For a double chin, tilt your head back, chin tilted up. Push lover jaw out, lower lip over upper lip. Hold. Repeat 5 times.
Have you ever seen a West Coast Sunset? Well Hugh and I never had so we decided to make a road trip to California. I got in touch with my friend Beatrice Wood and asked if she knew of a good place to stay. But she said: You will stay with me, of course! Beatrice live in Ojai (only a 30 min drive to the sea), a town largely inhabited by those seeking an alternative lifestyle. And alternative was definitely a good way to describe Beatrice. During her extravagant life, she’d been an actress, Mama of Dada, Duchamp’s lover, and much much more before deciding to focus on pottery. When asked how she maintained her good looks, she’d reply: I owe it all to chocolate and young men.
In the late 1940s, Beatrice moved to Ojai to be near the Indian philosopher, Jiddu Krishnamurti. Krishnamurti, who as a boy had been known as “vague and dreamy” (or, according to others, dim-witted) had been discovered in India by a high-ranking Theosophist who saw him on the beach and said “Hey, that kid’s got aura!”. So the Theosophists took him under their wings and subjected him to a kind of Hollywood Makeover. They were hoping to transform the ugly duckling into a swan who one day would become their new World Teacher.
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Things went well until Krishnamurti and his brother went to California. Well I guess California has changed the lives of many people and Krishnamurti turned out to be one of them. Here, not long after a “mystical” experience, he left the Theosophists. Krishnamurti said his only concern now was to set man free. And to be free, men had to be released from their cages including those of organized belief. Boy, weren’t the Theosophists livid. Their major investment had dumped them.
With his friend and fellow ex-Theosophists, Deskiacharya Rajagopal, Krishnamurti organized speaking tours and publications. He attracted many fans including the physicist, David Bohm. Spiritual quantum.
Beatrice had organized a little garden party in our honor and that’s how I met Krishnamurti. Well let me be perfectly honest, I am not into those guru types with big cow eyes who speak in a low voice and ask questions like: Does god exist? Where does time go? Do you want to talk about death? I wanted to say: No I don’t want to talk about death. I want to dance the cumbia! But, instead, I asked him questions about himself and how he spent his days. Krisnamurti said he liked to walk, was a vegetarian, did two hours of yoga every day, and regularly practiced pranayama breathing exercises.
Well the pranayama breathing interested me and I asked him to elaborate. Everyone knows that breathing keeps us alive but few of us know that controlled breathing can help us fall asleep, inhibit pain, control blood flow, lower blood pressure, and so much more. I was quite enthralled by the idea of changing my life simply by using my lungs so when he invited to teach me a few techniques, I eagerly accepted. The next morning I showed up wearing a saree Beatrice had lent me. When I got there Rosalind, Rajagopal’s wife, opened the door and led me to the garden. Here we sat cross legged under an orange tree and started inhaling away. All that fresh air inside of me kinda made me dizzy. But I did feel really full of myself afterwards and decided to continue doing the exercises from then on.
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When we breathe, we interrelated with our environment. What’s outside goes inside. That’s why the quality of air is so important. Because breathing in sicken air sickens us.
So in The Age of Reconfiguration, attentions needs to be given to breathing properly. And I’m starting off with these three exercises:
Diaphram breathing…many of us practice shallow breathing and/or breathe through our mouths. Breathing is bad for us as the nose warms and filters the air we breathe. Breathing with the mouth lets in more toxins and can give us a sore throat. Inhale for 5 seconds then exhale for 5 seconds.
As you breathe in, your diaphragm expands. Breathe out thru pursed lips and gently press your belly to help push air out of your diaphragm.
Sometimes emotions can disrupt our breathing pattern. When we are nervous we tend to hold our breath whereas when we are down, we sigh.
Rhythmic Breathing… Many of us have irregular breathing patterns and don’t even know it. Practicing rhythmic breathing techniques can help. It’s all about giving our breathing a fixed rhythm. For beginners such as myself it can be broken down into four parts:
inhale 1-2-3-4
pause after inhaling 5-6
exhale 1-2-3-4
pause after exhaling 5-6
Alternative Nostril Breathing…. Alternate Nostril Breathing can help synchronize the two brain hemispheres. It can also give us energy, wake up the brain, clear the lungs, and calm our nerves.
Alternate Nostril Breathing,
Sit comfortably then, using the right thumb, softly close the right nostril, and inhale as slowly as you can through the left nostril, then close it with your ring finger. Pause. Open and exhale slowly through the right nostril.
With the right nostril open, inhale slowly, then close it with the thumb. Pause. Exhale through the left nostril. Once your exhalation is complete, inhale through the left. Pause before moving to the right.
Repeat this pattern five to ten times, and then release the right hand to the right knee. Ease back into normal breathing.
Try practicing to arrive at 15 minutes a day.
The quickest way to achieve mental clarity is via controlled breathing. We cannot live without oxygen for more than 20 minutes otherwise the brain dies.
Inspired literally means “breathe in”. The breath unites the inner and outer realm. The brain’s oxygen level is directly related to serotonin. Serotonin helps us be awake and alert. You can regulate your level of serotonoin by controlling your breath. Too much serotonin in the brain causes irritation, tension and stress. Thus lowering its level can relax us.
Apnea…Holding your breath can be beneficial because it raises the level of carbon dioxide in the body and the brain and, for a short period of time, can refresh the brain and help clarity thought. The kind of air that your breath is also important. The electrical quality of air you breathe also has an effect on serototin. The number of positive or negative ions present measures electric air quality. Negative ions are displaced electrons, which attach themselves to nearby molecules. These molecules become negatively charged. We are most influenced by the negative ion. For example, the normal ion count in fresh country air is c. 3,000 ions per cubic centimeters. Whereas a typical ion count on a big city freeway is below 100 x cubic centimetres. The highest count comes from standing near a waterfall. The more ions we can breathe in, the better. The higher the ion count, the better it is for the brain.
Deep breathing promotes alpha brain waves and thus relaxation.
Ramacharaka, Yogi. Science of Breath. The Book Tree. San Diego. 2007.
Sloss, Radha Rajagopal. Lives in the Shadow with J. Krishnamurti. Bloomsbury. London. 1991
“It is NoMeasure of Healthto Be Well Adjusted to a Profoundly Sick Society” Jiddu Krishnamurti
Years later I came across a review about a book written by Rajagopal’s daughter, Radha. Polemics upon polemics. Some complimented Radha and others said the book was a pack of lies. Basically, what’s created the controversy is that Radha claims her mother and Krishnamurta had been lovers for over 25 years. But Krishnamurta claimed to be celibate…..
Mutual friends had introduced us. Edith Wharton was in Rome and we were having tea at Babington’s near the Spanish Steps. Edith was not only a writer but also a crusader against the “Thermopylae of bad taste”. Having written a book on interior decoration, she considered herself an expert and was having a grand time critiquing the décor of Rome’s most exclusive tea room. After looking around and shaking her head, Edith turned to me and said: ”Pleasantly proportioned rooms inspire a sense of calm and this room is making me nervous”. I, myself, found nothing wrong with it. Maybe because I was concentrating on the little cake cart that was making the rounds.
Edith was more civil than cordial and dignified to the point of being stuffy. She believed in an elegance that only money could buy and, despite the fact that she had exposed the superficiality of High Society, I got the idea that Edith continued to write about class distinction because she herself could not go beyond it
When World War I broke out, Edith was living in Paris and quickly created employment for the skilled women living in her neighborhood who’d lost their jobs because of the war. She also assumed the responsibility of giving a home to over 600 Belgian refugee orphans and even adopted some of them after the war. So even if she was a snob, Edith had my upmost respect. And I did find her conversation most stimulating especially her descriptions of the New York cultural scene. And when she told me that the Empire State Building had been completed and the Washington State Bridge opened, I knew it was time to go to New York.
It hadn’t been difficult to convince Hugh to go. But crossing the Atlantic had been fatiguing especially for Hugh who suffered from sea sickness. When we finally arrived in our room at the Herald Square Hotel, we took a quick bath then went to bed.
Hugh and I were in a deep sleep when the screaming started. We jumped out of bed to see what was going on. In the hallway was an elderly lady screaming for help saying that her sister was dying. It didn’t take long for hotel security to show up and quickly take control of the situation. After tranquillizing all the guests who were out in the hall, Hugh and I went back to our room to continue sleeping.
The next morning when the maid came to clean, I could see she was animated and anxious to talk. So I discreetly lead her into conversation and learned that her animation was due to the elderly woman whose screams we’d heard yesterday. The woman’s name was Ida Mayfield Wood and she was 93 years old (but had incredible smooth skin because, as I later learned, of the petroleum jelly she rubbed on her face every day). When the hotel personnel and doctors went into Ida’s rooms, it was the first time anyone had done so in 25 years. They were shocked by what they found—a hoarder’s paradise. Boxes and boxes of junk were piled up everywhere leaving little room for moving around. Ida, unkempt and smelly (apparently she hadn’t had a bath in years), immediately started telling everyone just how wealthy she was but people just thought she was just wacko. Lawyers came in and Ida was moved to another room so her own rooms could get a good cleaning. And while the cleaning was going one, the truth of Ida’s words came out. Cash and jewelry were found stashed everywhere— hidden in crumb filled cracker boxes, sewn into dirty night gowns, and stuffed in rusty evaporated milk cans.
It didn’t take long for journalists to learn of the story and go wild with it. Unlike Edith’s Lily Bart, Ida had decided to give her destiny a new direction in part motivated by a gypsy fortune teller who said she was going to marry a very rich man. Ida moved to NYC at the age of 19 with precise intentions: Find a man with money. She decided on the wealthy 37 year old Benjamin Wood, Congressman and owner of the New York Daily Paper. That he was married didn’t bother her at all. Not being a part of Wood’s elite social circle, Ida had to come up with a plan to meet him. She did so by writing him a letter saying that one of his former lovers had informed her that Wood was looking for a new face and that maybe that new face was hers. An appointment was set up and the two met. Wood found Ida, despite her sad eyes, to be quite attractive and immediately engaged her as his mistress. This went on for ten years until Wood’s wife died and he married Ida.
It hadn’t taken an Edith Wharton novel for Ida to understand social bias. So she told Woods that her father was Henry Mayfield, a wealthy sugar planter in Louisiana and that her mother was a descendant of the Earls of Crawford. It was 1931 and the aftermath of the stock market crash could still be felt. People were desperate for money so it’s no wonder that over 400 people showed up claiming to be one of Ida’s heirs. One of the reasons why Ida had so much money was because after Wood’s death, a banker Ida knew told her he was concerned about the American financial situation. This freaked Ida out so she went to her bank and withdrew all her money and hid it in her hotel room. A pity others hadn’t followed her actions.
Then the truth came out about Ida’s true identity. Her real name was Ellen Walsh and she was the daughter of poor Irish immigrants. And maybe this can offer a partial explanation as to why Ida was a hoarder and lived in such miserable conditions despite her wealth. Hoarding is an obsessive-compulsive disorder that thrives on acquiring more than you need and the inability to let go of objects even if though you don’t need them. Because poverty is psychologically devastating. And, even if you are no longer poor, the imprinting of poverty never leaves you.
In The Age of Reconfiguration, decluttering is fundamental:
1. Decluttering helps you let go of the past so you can focus on the present and make room for the future.
2. Decluttering helps you gain space you need for personal movement and for the flow of energy.
3. Decluttering helps you gain time as it’s easier to clean and easier to find things once order is established.
4. Decluttering creates a healthier environment as chaos provokes anxiety whereas a pleasant environment is good for the mood.
5 .Decluttering lets you concentrate more as clutter is a distraction and makes your brain work harder.
As an artist, I use recycled and reclaimed materials that take up space. But, as opposed to a hoarder, I need and use these materials and try to keep them under control. Just call me a Baroque minimalist!
The Narrative Within 