The Pillow Society

The Pillow Society

©Ana Sastrias 2013

Pillow creatures

Full of air

Where will your brainless routine takes you?

All of you look the same.

Fluffy, bubbly, ‘pillowy’.

That sameness which identifies you,

Breaking up with what you really are.

Hiding your ideas behind stereotypes.

Opening your mouth more for eating and smoking than for talking.

That sameness that does not connect.

Expelling words with no real conversation,

With no real meaning.

Only filling the time out.

You won’t dare to discover you are empty.

You, the uniformed,

Covering your frustrations with superficiality

Not taking responsibility on your own

By not moving, not thinking, not expressing.

Waiting for some good news to happen.

You purchased a shopping centre personality,

The one that is in fashion.

Same tattoo, same sunnies, estilletos.

No own ideas.

You think that watching Ophra, Ellen and Dr Oz,

Will make you unique and cultured.

Reading Women’s Magazine.

Gossips that never get to be read completely,

Only on the cover page as headlines.

Untested scientifically miracle cures,

Untested slimming diets and products,

Looking for your inner you 

by buying a ticket to Deepak Chopra Spiritual Experience.

You, the one that thinks that money is never enough,

Your credit card is in red, full of shoes, tattoos, cigarettes and hair-dos, piercings, macs, iphones, kfc’s and desserts and one or more spas.

Filling your body with short term calories, with short term satisfaction,

By emptying your wallet, by emptying yourself in the void.

Same conversation, same script every day.

Where are you among all the mass of pillows?

Are you in the picture that sells you a lottery or charity raffle?

You think that success and retirement means golf field,

Cruises and hotels.

Some may be lucky or sold their soul to become caricatures of a pre-fabricated reality.

The reality on billboards, always shiny…

The one with no imperfections, no pimples, no cellulite, athletic and business ‘sabby’

Without ageing with a thirst of aggressive competitiveness.

It seems that competition based on a uniformed social framework is quite unfair, as there is a diversity to be recognised and needs to be enhanced over their own values and culture. Not because the trends are to follow some sophist thinkers who just focus on a limited spectrum, everybody has to follow them unconditionally.

You, the ‘pillowy’,

Who think that have made the mark,

Because have won a sales award

But are not able to express

Your own ideas and own feelings, because that is dangerous.

The ‘pillowy’ who praises always the corporate father or mother institution,

As if everything in your lives would be controlled by this paternal or maternal

Relationships that you already accepted as a mandate.

All answers were already spelled by a designated master,

Your solution to be motivated and being healthy is at your fingertips

Waiting for you to take action,

Not by wasting your money in seminars and conferences

That will give you the same trivial answer that you already had before paying.

For you, ‘pillowy’

Happy only in the shallow waters

Never diving the depths of yourselves.

You will never understand something called “your own being”

With your own spirit and will.

You are scared shit of being alone with no one to be associated with.

You have not discovered the mystery of being connected to others,

As if you have not used it as much or at all.

You are programming your children totally attached to a DVD Screen or an iPhone/iPad or Game screen since babies.

“Look! They are very smart! They can navigate without help at a short age!”

You are providing all the artificial reality your children are demanding on you.

They do not want to talk to you at all. They just come to you to ask you how to select the channel or the video, or which game or movie they want to see. 

Of course, they will be hungry and will ask you for food.

You, mad mothers, making sacrifices to pay a complete “Wonderland” environment for the party of the kids without thinking that the kids have the ability to entertain themselves with very basic things and need to create and explore their own world, not to submit themselves with the pre-fabricated one you are providing to them.

For you, ‘pillowy’,

You are not unacceptable if you are different, although you are afraid to show that difference.

Ana Sastrías

10-10-2013

Penrith, NSW, Australia

The Old Guys

THE OLD GUYS

©Ana Sastrias 2013

As a middle age lady that I am now, I face the crossroad of life deciding to go back to my youth days or continue towards the normal course of life preparing myself for the life in advanced age. I am on the half of a century, so these two options are viable.

It is quite scary thinking this way. Such a scary feeling that it is best just to count on each day and go easy on it, instead of thinking how long will you stay alive for in your next decades.

When we think about Life, we’ve been indoctrinated in making a big issue about it. Trying to succeed in every aspect, trying to use your life the best you can, be healthy, be smart, be responsible and be generous.

As I approach each day and each month, I realise how lucky I am to continue living each day and I really appreciate the opportunity and the time. Things that the youth, who are not depressed enough, would not think about it. Funnily, sometimes you get this kind of expressions from a 20 something years old youngster: ‘I am old’, or you get the other one ‘I saw an old man’, and possibly that old man was in his 30s or 40s.

In my whole life I have been in touch with old people and I can tell the difference between a really old person and just an aged person. The difference is in their thinking and in the capacity to adapt to new circumstances. Nevertheless, everyone’s body will age to the point that will take us to the old person’s type of life and sometimes this comes very soon.

In someway I am old, as I have been accepting that I have passed the youth days and even if I still got some abilities, there will be an awkward gap between a young person and myself. Creams, exercise and good nutrition may disguise my looks and allow me to continue to mix with young people, but there are some kind of conversations that definitively will put me off and here it is where I draw my line and put my “Old person” label.

Here in Australia, the kind of old people I have met is diverse. Generally, they are very active, they are the old school, responsible, squeaky clean, punctual, very focused, reliable, organized, very generous, optimists, great memory of the past events, especially from the War Times. We can say, they are The National Treasure.

Just recently, after the passing of my husband, who became extremely old at the age of 54 and now he is hopefully enjoying the eternal and peaceful rest; I have been meeting some extraordinary people from the advanced age without planning to meet them or seeking them. It seems that there is an odd attraction that keeps me in connection with old people and I find this connection fascinating.

It is like a God’s message telling me not to be too worry about my age and see how well these advanced people are living.

One of them, I met him at the Shopping Centre where I buy my groceries. That day, I decided to go by walk as I was just going to buy two things, so I was just carrying one bag. The Shopping Centre is just 20 minutes walk distance from my place. Suddenly, I saw an old hunched back old guy pushing a wheelchair customized as a shopping trolley with many stacked up boxes full of groceries. The state of the wheelchair was deplorable, it was rusty, the wheels were not leveled and it looked so hard to push and control. I could not avoid not to ask him to help him. He looked very vulnerable. I stayed walking aside of him and asked him whether he needed any help, he just kindly said that he was alright. But, I decided I was going to be next to him in case something was happening. Anyway, we both were walking on the same direction towards my place and I got involved in the conversation. I just saw in this old chap a very strong will person, that nevertheless the trolley-wheelchair was more for the rubbish bin, he was taking it as part of his own person, both were inseparable. I told him ‘You are doing a lot of exercise pushing this trolley’ – he just said ‘Na, it is not much of an exercise’. That trolley was heavy enough to get anyone tired. I joined him until I reached my street and needed to do the turn, but I was very worry about him as the day became almost night time at that point and he was facing the cars while pushing the trolley-wheelchair.

The second old guy, and eighty one years old one I met was at the School. Coincidentally on the first lesson of my class there was a cancellation and I decided to remain at the School and attend a different class. I attended the French class. I found by my surprise that the teacher was old, but very fit, with no walking problems, good memory, none hearing problems and very kind. He speaks many languages, including Spanish. So I got into conversation and found this guy full of life. He is impressively adaptable, he even has the ability of texting in mobile phones. I never felt so inspired and happy in these days. I understood that Life is not as complex, but we are very fearful and we make things more complex. I wish I could have the motivation in Life as this guy.

Last weekend I just happened to have another encounter with an old guy in the train while coming back from Central to Penrith. I was initially alone in the carriage of the express train and it was night time. The reason I went to Central was that an old timer friend texted me to see whether I could catch up with her at a Mexican Bar with her Polish community friends in Surry Hills. So I dared to go and stayed there for an hour, as I came late.

While seating waiting for the train to depart for Penrith, I saw an old guy in a Railway Coat uniform with a very nice Vinnie entering the carriage. He was going to seat on the row of seats opposite side to me, but then he changed his mind and seated just in front of me and started the conversation. When he heard my accent he said ‘You are not from Australia’ – and I said ‘I come from Mexico, but I have been sixteen years here’. Then, he was quite comfortable talking to me and even showing me his ID cards and a medal he got as an emblem of working at the Railcorp for 45 years in Australia and 16 years in London. He is also eighty one years old. He is very tall, fit, well dressed, totally conversant. The only thing is that he struggles a bit in the use of the mobile phones that are just a screen. He is a retiree, but it seems he is very active and loves travelling in the train as he has now free fairs.

My ex-neighbour, who also is an eighty one years old war veteran, he has been pretty fit until this year that his health has started to fail a bit. He is extremely loyal at the point of being a bit annoying sometimes. He thinks I need help all the time, and so he is always telling me, ‘please if you need something, do not hesitate in calling’.

I just hope I live well the life I need to live even if I do not get to reach the eighty one years old.

Keeping in perspective I have already experienced at my young age many aspects of the old age while caring for my husband, nevertheless I have the need to wake up and continue the normal life of a common middle age lady with a future ahead.

Ana Sastrias

Penrith

24/06/2013

9:20 pm

The Little Wooden Knife

The Little Wooden Knife

©Ana Sastrias 2013

It was in 1992, possibly in the Spring or Summer time in Tokyo, when I discovered you and you captivated me with your simple and elegant design, your soft and slick texture and your efficiency in cutting.

In those months, discovering the Japanese culture, getting to know also people from Asia and the Middle East, Africa, India, Pakistan and Sri Lanka for the first time, adding up to the Japanese experience; I kept you all that time wrapped up until I came back to Mexico.

Coming back to Mexico, after five months of keeping you in your wrapping, I decided to keep you to myself and use you. Since that same time, there has not been one day I have not used you.

You have been so efficient in greasing the bread with dips, butter, Brie and Camembert cheeses, even with Blue cheese.

You have made a delicious time in our reunions, as in Mexico as well as in Australia. With your friend, “the little stirring spoon”, also a Japanese one, both have been a great inseparable couple in our daily meal and nibbles preparations.

It is amazing, how fast the time passes and all this time that you have endured, despite so much use and so many washes. Even last year, when I needed to accept some help, the helpers thought of you as a stick for the rubbish bin not as a useful knife. So, as a good owner of yours, I always rescued you from the bin and washed you carefully to continue using you. This happened on three occasions. Your two friends, “the little stirring spoons”, could not survive the washing. One day, one of the helpers just reported to me, ‘oopps!, the stirring spoon has been found broken in the sink …’, and so, since that event there is only one surviving little spade. And now, that there is no need for helpers, then, you two can enjoy being safe with me as long as you live and I live.

I never thought that the first time I put you in the dishwasher, I would have lost you forever. Poor little wooden knife, since that day, you lost your slick texture and colour. Since that unfortunate time, I learnt that you are an object of the old fashioned washing by hand method.

You have witnessed so many things, nice moments and very difficult ones in our lives. You have witnessed each step of my husband’s disease, and as a very good companion that you are, you gave him the best you could do for him: giving him a very good cracker or bread with a very good dip; giving him semi-toasted bread with butter. You prepared an exquisite sandwich with ham, cheese and mayonnaise, mustard and avocado with lettuce. Who would have thought of you to be as an everlasting object, even the Titanic so great and strong would have not resisted as you have.

You, as a little, insignificant and common object, original though; have been part of our every day lives, refusing to ever break.

You have resisted yourself to oblivion, rescuing you from the bad hands.

You, who have had to overcome so many diseases and even one or two deaths.

You, who seem to be a little thing, almost useless, becoming slimmer all the time by each washing; it would seem that your original task is becoming harder for you to perform. Nevertheless, there is something that reminds me that you still want to be useful.

At each meal I invite You to please me, now with Hommus, then with Dip, another time with Butter and then another time with Jam and then, with a very good cheese and so on.

I know that there will be a day when I will not longer be able to enjoy your services, but as you always refuse to die or disappear, then there will be a time for us too.

What a brave little wooden knife, you are nothing but to admire.

Ana Elena Sastrías (original in Spanish)

5 – 04 – 2013

8:08 pm

Penrith

Sydney, Australia

Cuchillito de Palo

CUCHILLITO DE PALO      

©Ana Sastrias 2013

Estimados Lectores,

Como continuación a nuestra afamada publicación “31 PINDARI DRIVE”. Ahora en memoria de mi marido JOSE ANTONIO RAMOS JIMENES, el iniciador de los “Pindaris”, me es pertinente contarles la historia del “Cuchillito de Palo”, cuya existencia y servicio nos han acompañado durante más de 20 años.

“Fue en el año de 1992, posiblemente en Tokio (primavera - verano), cuando te descubrí y me cautivaste por tu diseño simple y elegante, por tu textura lisa y tu eficiencia al cortar.

En esos meses de descubrimiento de la cultura japonesa, conociendo también gente de Asia y Oriente Medio y de Africa e India, Paquistán y Sri Lanka que se unieron a la experiencia japonesa; te guardé todo el tiempo hasta mi regreso a México.

En México, ya después de 5 meses de haber sido cuidadosamente guardado, decidí quedarme contigo y usarte. Desde ese mismo momento, no ha habido un día que no te haya usado.

Has sido muy eficiente en untar la mantequilla, el queso Brie, Camembert y hasta el queso Azul. Nos has acompañado en diversos domicilios que hemos tenido y has sobrevivido todas las empacadas y desempacadas valerosamente.

Has hecho de nuestras reuniones, tanto en México como en Australia, toda una delicia. Con tu amiga, también japonesa, “la palita”, los dos han sido una pareja inseparable en la preparación diaria de nuestros alimentos y botanas.

Es increíble lo rápido que pasa el tiempo y todo lo que has durado, a pesar de tanto uso, tantas lavadas y que todavía el año pasado, las ayudantas te confundían con basura y te tiraban al bote, pero, yo como buena dueña te rescaté en dos o tres ocasiones. Tus amigas las palitas, no sobrevivieron los malos tratos en las lavadas de esas ayudantas, quedándo sólo una palita. Y como ya no hay ayudantas, Uds dos pueden estar totalmente a salvo.

Nunca pensé, la primera vez que te metí a la lavadora de trastes, que casi te perdía. Pobresito cuchillito, perdiste tu textura lisa y tu color. Desde esa vez aprendí que tú eres de lavado a mano a la antigüita.

Has sido testigo de tantas cosas, de momentos agradables, y difíciles en nuestras vidas. Has sido testigo de cada paso en la enfermedad de José Antonio, y como buena compañía le diste lo mejor que pudiste hacer por él, darle un buen queso untado en una galleta o en un pan, darle un buen dip, darle un buen pan semi tostado con mantequilla, prepararle un exquisito sandwich de jamón y queso con mayonesa, mostaza y aguacate.  Quién lo hubiera pensado, tú tan perenne, que ni el Titanic, tan grande y fuerte, hubiera resistido.

Tú tan pequeño, insignificante, común y a la vez original

te  has hecho parte de nuestra vida diaria

resistiéndote a quebrarte.

Te has resistido al olvido

rescatándote de los malos tratos,

haz superado muchas enfermedades nuestras

y una que otra muerte.

Tú que parecieras poca cosa,

casi inútil, haciéndote más delgado cada vez

en cada lavada, pareciera que tu uso original

te está empezando a quedar grande,

pero algo me dice, cada vez, que todavía quieres 

ser útil.

Cada comida te invito a que me complazcas, ahora con Hommus, ahora con dip, ahora con mantequilla, ahora con mermelada y ahora con un buen queso.

Sé que algún día llegará que ya no pueda gozar de tus servicios, pero así como todos nos resistimos a morir y desaparecer, así también nos tocará a todos”.

Lo que un cuchillito de palo resiste, no es digno de menosprecio.

Ana  Elena Sastrías

5 - 04 -2013

8:08 pm

Penrith.

Sydney, Australia

The Unresolved

THE UNRESOLVED

©Ana Sastrias 2012

Fate met Delilah

when she grew up alone.

Father was kind of absent,

Mother was too busy

to explain what the Future

would be about.

Delilah’s mind was with her

reconstructing Past and Present

to explain what the Future

would be about.

Was that her fault?

or was that something else?

It was Fate!

No one told her

how to grow up alone.

Life took place

and taught her.

For so many years,

discipline and strength

was the only way

Delilah could survive

in a gloomy world

and turned it as it was

a blossoming one.

She suddenly thought

that one day

she would not be submitted

anymore.

The comfortable place of others

to submit her 

The comfortable place of others

to depend on her

The comfortable place of others

to taunt her

The comfortable place of others

to abuse her

One day, no more.

After being attracted to her first boyfriend,

living intensily a month as it was many years.

She learned what a french kiss was,

what was the feeling of being caressed,

and what was the feeling of thinking

about the other all the time.

Nothing could have compared to that,

was that really love?

or just a learning experience?

No matter what could have that been,

It is still remembered after 

thirty six years.

A month which defined a begining

of a career of how to test men

and how in some way defeat them,

how to hide from them

and how to feel the one in them,

not granting

all the satisfaction men 

were wishing.

It seemed to Delilah

that her captivating encounters

with the safety of not allowing others

to do as much as they pleased,

was the perfect balance

for enjoyment.

That was her power,

an unfinished

and undefined fulfilment.

The notion that one day she would loose her virginity

was haunting Delilah.

She was too young to know

what was this about,

but the notion was there

pending in the head of Delilah

thirty six years ago.

After that month passed

and dissappeared,

there were many years waiting

for another captivating encounter,

this time was from an unresolved guilt,

but also from a longged attraction.

Delilah felt for the first time

that this was the only time

and no more years waiting.

She must apologise!

She should reach him

and be lucky

to be taken.

There was fear

and an electrifying atmosphere.

The encounter

was orchestrated by Delilah

in a way this new love

would be realised.

Calls and invitations happened,

time to be together 

and explore the forbidden side

in hidden places.

Delilah got initiated into womanhood.

Something that was resident

in her, but could not feel before.

She knew how to be possesed

and how to possess the other.

Delilah was affraid of being discarded,

but also she would not like to be submissive.

A relationship that was inconclusive

with a zest of commitment

and individuality,

was the perfect balance.

A year lasted, finally understanding that

too much possession

led far too much suffering

between two powers,

family and boyfriend.

Delilah decided to break that possesion

and continued again her normal life

with university and family committments

and no more.

She was still young for

the heaviness of Life.

She knew too much now

to decide that Love

was something else,

and she was not yet

prepared for it.

Love can be a nuissance,

but it is good to have it

on your side.

Love is Dark

and the only place where

you can appreciate the Light.

Love becomes meaningless,

once the rutine eats it.

Love is something we do not know.

Life is something we do not know.

Men are something we do not know.

Delilah thought:

I love to know men

and keep that knowledge in my life.

That could be the perfect

balance.

Some years passed with no committments,

great time to grow Delilah’s individuality

and define her for the Future.

Delilah was happy that way,

even though she was having

resident dreams about certain friends.

Professional career was the priority,

not the committment with the other.

She did not want to commit to a relationship,

knowing that she would be tided up.

She appreciated all her friends

and would not like to abandon them for one of them.

Parties, getaways and restaurants were the places

where Delilah felt happy.

Happy for one night

and come back home.

Happy during the day

and continue her own

family life.

An unsuspected encounter happened

during that time of finishing “uni”.

An unplanned event

made this encounter

with an old acquantance

to be unusually sensuous.

For the first time, she physically felt

tresspassed by a gaze

of his new unsuspected encounter

like a laser jet.

Never thought this would happened.

She did not feel fear, just being

in some way naked infront 

of this encounter.

Delilah was used to hunting men,

not men hunting for her.

Samson was the man,

a sweet, manly and reliable man,

with a Future being built up,

with Hope for the Future,

who was able to make

Delilah feel protected.

Samson fell for Delilah in

a way she never expected.

She got granted the power to

take him or discard him with

no regrets.

Delilah could not have asked for a better match,

even though there was a Dark card

from Samson to reveal

something that would define

the future in this match.

Delilah never thought that her inner strength

would be her fate and her salvation.

She never thought that her presence was

that powerful.

In a very short period of time,

Samson, smitten to Delilah

fell he needed to formalise

the relationship.

Delilah feeling quite overwhelmed by

the quick decision

to formalise,

started to feel that this was the time

either to continue with no 

definition in relationships

or the time to find 

meaning in this relationship.

This was a real defining time!

Samson was honest to her

and showed his weakness.

Delilah fell for it. 

Delilah needed a man honest

to his weakness,

in order for her to be respected.

For the first time Delilah

felt the pleasure to protect a man

and also felt protected by him.

Never thought after more than

eighteen years

of marriage, that the Dark Card

was going to be much more 

present in their lives

making Samsom each year ahead

weaker and weaker.

Delilah thought of herself:

"I will do the everyday activities

as the same as I am alone.

I am not expecting anything.

I can do everything."

That worked out well

for quite a while.

Without family anymore,

without university commitments.

Only him and herself

alone in a farthest

place they could find.

A completely new life.

A complete fulfilment!

A complete relationship!

A new begining?

A Begining of a future End?

Samson and Delilah

Delilah and Samson

Delilah so many times got tempted to be infidel to Samson.

But, Samson fidelity was absolute to her

and never changed.

Delilah for the first time was affraid of being alone and unprotected

in a society that will not take her seriously.

While Samson’s disability has been progressing

and now basing the relationship in a complete dependency,

Delilah has been feeling stranded in a land

which is not their birth place. A very foreign country.

She is strong in coping, but not strong to let it go.

One day she thinks

“That’s it, I leave you!”

Other day she feels

“I am alright and I will support you”

Another day she thinks

“I must not look after you anymore. You do not belong here anymore.”

Samson will always like to be with her,

no matter what she thinks.

He loves her, and it is the only thing he can do.

Ana Sastrías

30-11-2012

South Penrith, NSW, Australia

I Got Time

I GOT TIME

©Ana Sastrias 2013

You have been with me and against me

You, the inseparable element in my terrene reality

Time

You enter my body and my subconscious mind every second

Human beings think they can control You and measure You

Time

The flow of things, the wind that pushes the trees and the leaves that fly away

The changes of colours in the sky, the different seasons, the urge to eat and sleep

Time

The image in the mirror of myself that reflects the different facets of age

The different way my body works and moves slowing me down

Time

If you did not exist, we would not exist as well

We have created You and we have been victims of You

Time

I do not care about You all day, but I know You exist

I hate to be submitted to the rules some people created about your use

They say, at this hour you have breakfast, then morning tea

Then, at this hour you have lunch or “dinner”, then afternoon tea

Then, at this hour you have dinner or “tea”

I got Time and I want to use You as I please

I want You to be my friend and my best companion

I do not want You to be my slaver, mi villain, my nemesis

A Deadline, like if our Destiny was to be at the front of the battle ready to be killed

They say that “Life is too short”, so why suffer so much about Time?

But also it is true that shortage of Time can drive us into Despair

They say “Time is Money”, but I would say that you cannot buy Time

You cannot go back in Time and experience again your childhood in your kindred body

Only in your memories

Only the demented or vegetating people possibly can do without Time,

But I must admit that they would drive everyone else around them on the Clock

Now I got Time in solitude,

Something I have not been used to for quite a while.

It seems that for so many years yearning for spare time and not having it as much

Has left me vulnerable in front of so much spare time to think about how to use it.

It looks like I have been the beneficiary of a Will that granted me Spare Time.

So, Time is not relevant

Time is always there

Time does not disappear or hides away

What we make relevant is the Use of Time

The Use of Time has defined cultures, businesses, institutions, education science.

The Use of Time has shaped our physiology, society, habits, communications and rites.

The Seconds, Minutes and Hours, 

Days, Months and Years, 

Centuries and Millenniums

will always be there in the Ether.

Our bodies are changing in Life until we passed on to Death, but Time continues and overpasses our Existence.

Time contains us All

We all share the Time in different ways

Time has shaped us All 

until we cannot hold Life

defining our remain Existence

I got Time

I got Life

I Exist

Ana Sastrias

25-04-2013

South Penrith, NSW, Australia

8:00 pm