Archive for the ‘Ancient wisdom’ Category

4th Phenomenal Caribbean Women Symposium, January 26th, 2013, Cabrits National Park, Dominica

February 10, 2013
Telling My Story at the Fourth Phenomenal Caribbean Women Symposium, January 26, 2013, Dominica

Telling My Story at the Fourth Phenomenal Caribbean Women Symposium, January 26, 2013, Dominica

Recently I traveled to Dominica, West Indies to speak at VF Inc’s Fourth Phenomenal Caribbean Women Symposium, held Saturday, January 26th, 2013, at Cabrits National Park, Portsmouth, Dominica.

Organized by Dr. Valda Henry, CEO of V F Inc, the 4th Phenomenal Caribbean Women Symposium, in collaboration with the Bureau of Gender Affairs, and sponsored by the Ministry of Social Services, Community Development (among others,) attracted 150 women of all ages and walks of life from Dominica and neighbouring Caribbean islands.

My participation was fully sponsored by the Dominican Bureau of Gender Affairs, which is headed by Ms. Rosie Browne, Director.

With my presentation entitled, “Heeding the call of the Ancestor Spirits to unravel the secrets and shames and heal the wounds of our immigrant mothers, to liberate my inner Maroon Warrioress,” I shared my story of how I, “traveling the wrong way,” came home to my roots – my self – in Jamaica. It was a dynamic, interactive storytelling, in words, music and song, of my spiritual and physical journey and how, with art, creativity and lots of laughter, I overcame life’s obstacles and liberated my inner “Maroon Warrioress,” along the way.

Welcoming remarks were given by Dr. Valda Henry, Rosie Browne, and Vanya David, President of the Dominica National Council of Women, and the Keynote Address was presented by Minister of Social Services, Community Development and Gender Affairs, the Honourable Gloria Shillingford.

Including myself, there were four Phenomenal Caribbean Women Speakers at the Symposium representing three countries. I represented Jamaica,  Karen Hinds, St. Vincent and the Grenadines, Mrs. Annette St. Hilarie and Gloria Walsh both represented Dominica. This year’s theme was, “What You Conceive You Can Achieve Because God Has the Power to Deliver What He Promises.” The conference’s main objectives were to:

  • Celebrate the successes of our Caribbean women.
  • Hear Caribbean women tell their stories of success, triumph over adversity, challenges, pain, joy and blessings.
  • Inspire women, especially young women to determine and achieve their life purpose.
  • Show that achieving one’s “Life Purpose” is possible.
  • Prepare a Personal Action Plan towards achieving one’s life purpose.

We Caribbean women speakers recounted different stories, our own stories, in our own words, and yet it was wholly evident that we were telling women’s stories.

I do believe that we all have a story to tell. The ancients, our ancestors, knew this. They were well aware that the need to be heard (to be truly listened to,) is inherent in all humans. To be heard is to belong. To belong is to be loved. I was honoured and delighted to have a rapt audience of so many Phenomenal Caribbean Women listen to my story and I was humbled to hear that my tale and songs – my truth – had touched them deeply and provided them inspiration.

I, and my inner “Maroon Warrioress,” were liberated, and loved, in Dominica.

Here is an excerpt of my talk:

“In truth, only I hear what I hear. Only I know what I know. But do I dare?

They are talking to me, willing me, whispering to me. It is my story they – the ancestors – want me to tell. It is my story they wish me to write, to live. For it is my story that will set them free, set me free; set my mother free (she who left Jamaica for a better life, to become a better person, whitewashed – a proper English lady,) set we phenomenal Caribbean women free. But do I dare? Do I have the courage to walk alone, all one?

I did dare. I did find the courage. And it hurt. And it was lonely. And lonely and hurt entwined and became a physical being, a rough, jagged stone that lodged in my heart, suffocating me, that no matter how hard I tried I could not expel. But as I learned to listen, really listen, and know and trust my truth. As I met each challenge that confronted me, threatened to derail me from my path, but didn’t, that rock became smooth, weathered, beautiful, black, radiant – me.

You must mine your own heart, meet your own self – the good, the bad and the ugly – accept that it is true and love you, all of you. Inside all of the muck is your gift, your purpose, your reason for being here on this earth, at this time. Only you can unearth it, only you can set it free, though the spirits, the ancestors, they are guiding you, cheering you on, encouraging you, supporting you. They live in your imagination, in your creativity, your craft, your art, your voice, your laughter. They live in your loneliness. Embrace them to set you free.”

Rosie Browne, Karen Hinds, Dr. Valda Henry, Gloria Walsh, Sharon Martini, Mrs. Annette St. Hilaire

Sharon Martini proud as punch with Phenomenal Caribbean Woman Plaque

Sharon Martini proud as punch with Phenomenal Caribbean Woman Plaque

Mrs. Esther Thomas, Chief Technical Officer, Ministry of Tourism, Dominica, presents me with a basket of "Made In Dominica" goodies.

Mrs. Esther Thomas, Chief Technical Officer, Ministry of Tourism, Dominica, presents me with a basket of “Made In Dominica” goodies.

The view from Cabrits National Park, Portsmouth, Dominica

The view from Cabrits National Park, Portsmouth, Dominica

OpheliaMarie

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Why Not Leave?

April 29, 2011

Often when “the dirty little secret” of domestic abuse finally escapes its carefully constructed prison of shame, fear, guilt, and self-blame, especially when its thick seemingly impenetrable walls are felled by murder, out tromps the Greek Chorus to query incredulously,  “Why didn’t she just leave his sorry ass?”

This, strange as it may seem, is easier said than done.

First, domestic abuse is frequently invisible to everyone but the victim(s) especially when it is verbal and emotional. There are no bruises or broken bones to display in exchange for compassion, empathy, or simple sympathy.

The victim becomes mute, surrendering voice to survive, suffocating in mind-jabbering silence, shame, self-recrimination and blame. “If I hadn’t made him mad…” “If we speak it will make her mad and she will beat us.” “If I speak then I expose to the world my ineptitude at being wife/woman/mother/man/husband/father/partner – human.” “If I speak I will shame my family, my church, my community, my workplace.” “If I speak I will lose access to my house, food, clothing, my children, money, my job, societal status, etc. etc. etc.”

Justification saunters uninvited into your taciturnity and proceeds to dance a maniacal two-step on your brain with denial and blame. You question your sanity, your desires, your needs, wants; your basic human rights. Unfailingly, your answers support your position that you are not entitled to any of those. “You are bad.” “You are black.” “You are poor.” “Remember where you came from….” “It’s all in your imagination.” “He took you and your children in.” “It’s not so bad.” “This is what you deserve.” “You are ugly.” “Toughen up, get over it, your mother had it much worse.”

Negative messages bombard you becoming crippling mantras with every laboured breath you take. Peppering your pummeled mind, adding confusion upon confusion. You find yourself questioning whether your left hand is indeed your left hand. “… Maybe it’s the right?” You no longer know anything.

You subsist on a diet of subterfuge, tension, and soul crushing anxiety. You swallow without chewing your festering rage. Tiptoeing around on eggshells you mercifully attend to the children, the family, the house, the garden, the church, the social groups, school, anything to avoid having to face the dire truth of your situation. One foot in front of the other, numb, impervious to feeling or sensation you maintain a state of frantic busyness, so as to not succumb – “to keep your head above water,” as the saying goes. Even though, if allowed one wish, it would be to buckle your knees and fall, surrendering wholly, finally, to Death’s seduction, the incessant whispers lasciviously caressing your every cell, enticing you with promises of sweet release – peace.

But, you do not succumb, you keep going; for the children; for the family; the community; the church; anyone but you. You see, on this long, ever-growing list of obligations and obligees, your name does not appear, for your life has become self-sacrifice, a lingering suicide, your self-esteem so fragmented you no longer exist. So how can it possibly occur to you that you can, (and must,) do for you? You cannot hear “GET UP! YOU ARE ENTITLED TO BETTER! RUN! SAVE YOURSELF! LIVE!” No. No. They cannot be talking to me?

And still, there is within, something, (spirit, an indomitable force, the call of the ancestors perhaps,) buried deep amongst the muck, mayhem, disappointment and duty that hardens your heart; “bellows softly blowing” doggedly pumping to keep the embers of your life-light from extinguishing completely, until such time when you can rise again from the ashes.

Leaving an abusive relationship is one of the hardest things to do. In fact, leaving any relationship is hard, even when uninspiring, the love long departed. It is because it is familiar; it is what you know. We are all too familiar with the adage, ‘Tis better the devil you know! On average it takes a victim of abuse seven tries before being able to permanently leave an abuser. (The most dangerous point in an abusive relationship is the time during and immediately following leaving). However, the task can be easier with planning and preparation:

Contact, or at least know, the contact information of the domestic violence/sexual assault programs in your area.

Build a strong support system if you can. Or at least try to become involved in outside activities so you are not completely isolated.

Make an escape plan which may include:

A place to hide the car keys and other important items.

A hidden emergency fund. Begin stashing away a little cash from any allowances
and/or grocery money. If your finances are entwined consider secretly opening a separate bank account in your name only, preferably with a different financial institution.

A packed suitcase with a couple changes of clothes for yourself and your family. Leave this with a trusted friend or somewhere your partner will not find it. Include copies of birth certificates, passports, evidence documenting the abuse, and any other pertinent personal documents such as financial records.

A safe, secure place, preferably unknown to the abuser, where you can go, Have a plan to get there undetected.

Develop a plan for calling the police in an emergency, or having someone call on your behalf.

Notify few people of your plans. Friends or family can, in an attempt to help, jeopardize your safety by exposing your plans to your abuser.

Be kind to yourself. Take time for yourself. Find ways to affirm your goodness and your worth.

Keep a journal and write out your feelings. Keep your journal in a safe place.

Continuing in my efforts to educate on abuse, I am again organizing, producing and performing in The Vagina Monologues in Jamaica. This time in Treasure Beach, ST. Elizabeth. The Ladies Who Dare! presents a benefit production of “The Vagina Monologues” as part of the V-Day Global campaign to end violence against women and girls.
Highway To Being! copyright Sharon Martini

7 pm, Saturday, April 30, 2011 at Frenchman’s Reef Restaurant and Bar
Treasure Beach, St. Elizabeth, Jamaica

In addition to “Ladies Who Dare!” from the greater Treasure Beach Community and beyond, the cast includes Dr. Glenda Simms, former Executive Director of the Bureau of Women’s Affairs, Marie Sparkes, founder of Pure Potential (a privately-operated Jamaican Therapy company whose objectives are to give victims a wider range of strategies, skills and knowlege to manage the issues of sexual abuse and exploitation) and five young ladies who dare from Treasure Beach’s A Ganar Youth Leadership Program.

This event is a fundraiser for abused and exploited women in St. Elizabeth. Funds raised will be used to create a Healing Advocacy Fund for “Suzie” of Treasure Beach. Requested donation Ja$500.

To buy tickets online or to make a donation.

For tickets and information call: 876-574-3556
Email: thevaginamonologues@sharonmartini.com

Visit the official V-Day website at: www.vday.org

For Haiti

January 27, 2011

The Crossing Over.

One year ago watching the aftermath of the devastating earthquake in Haiti, I wondered what I could do, besides send money, to help. One day it hit me to conduit a healing journey for the country. “La Traversée” (The Crossing Over) is that healing.

Human salvation …

October 23, 2010

This Martin Luther King quote was in an email I received today. It resonated so much that I simply had share.

Does it speak to you?

Dreams are personal messages to help guide us

June 30, 2010

To dream is to invent, aspire to, conceive of or imagine; to daydream. A dream is a series of images, ideas, emotions, and sensations occurring during sleep. It is funny (or is it fundamental?) the dreams one remembers, and when one remembers them.

I must have been about four years old. I had been fast asleep in bed when something roused me from my slumber. Suddenly, peering under my bed, I was face to face with a large foreign feline. This was no ordinary, domestic, English kitty.  No, this was a ginormous female black jaguar. Her shiny black fur glistened in the dark, and the huge golden yellow orbs that were her eyes flickered and sparkled as she observed me. This leopard had business with me, not my brother, or sister, nor the baby in his crib blissfully sleeping nearby. Her gaze coolly conveyed this as she lay there speaking loudly in palpable, powerful, persuasive, panther silence to little me.

“MUMMY!” fear finally kicking in, I ran screaming to my parents’ room. I breathlessly told them what I had seen. My mother brought me back to my bedroom, all the while insisting it was nothing, only a dream, she said. But then, upon entering my room my mother, her back pressed against the wall, stood terrified, as if she had seen a ghost, or maybe a giant black jaguar, with luminescent sun saucers for eyes, lounging obsequiously under the bed, waiting patiently for what was rightfully hers, namely me. Then, visibly traumatized but having finally reclaimed her gross motor skills, mummy commanded me to get back in bed and promptly departed. We never did discuss that dream.

As an adult, at a time in my life where I am actively seeking my purpose, traveling solo, single-mindedly to spiritual awakening, I find I can dream on demand. I can meditate and conduct spiritual journeying. Whenever I employ one of these practices I always find myself surrounded by, and protected by, black jaguars. Often, I am the black jaguar.

The jaguar is a mystical magical beast, the queen of he jungle; a lady of the night (lunar not lascivious.) She is the dark mother, aligned with femininity, earth, death, darkness, rebirth, harmony, balance, and acclimatizing. She is solitary, strong and sonorous. On reflection, I recognize that in many ways she “looks like” me. I am a dark mother. I am solitary (even as I attempt to not be so much so.) I am strong, and if I do say so myself, I have a unique, rich voice.

I have come to believe that my dreams are personal messages, nocturnal missives for me from Goddess/God/Universe/Spirit, to help guide and teach me. To help me find, meet and claim myself. Many indigenous and ancient cultures believe we have spirit guides, animal alter egos whose qualities and characteristics represent our strengths, weaknesses and the pieces of ourselves needing the most personal attention. They believe for healing – spiritual, physical and emotional, wholeness – one must communicate freely and often with these animal angels and creature gods.

John Sanford, in his book, ““Dreams, God’s Forgotten Language” confirms my belief with his argument that God converses with us in our dreams, but we have forgotten how to hear. Far-fetched? Fantastical? I do not think so. Fundamental, I say.

I believe, a dream, a vision, a nightmare, a hallucination even, or imagination, is God/Goddess/Universe/Spirit, talking, attempting to guide, calling us to conversation. A dream is the primordial open invitation to dialogue with deity.

Still, don’t take my word for it. Close your eyes and dream. The gods and goddesses are whispering your wisdom and waiting patiently to dialogue with you.

A version of this column appeared in the June, 2010 edition of The Southwest Community Connection newspaper.