Conference turris::womannotes-v3

    
    
    What a wonderful dream, Karen.  I wonder if one day some group of us
    might form a collective and actually open a women's center like the
    one in your dream.  Thanks for sharing that.  I found myself lost
    in the scene you described and wishing I could go there right after
    work today....
    
    
    sigh...
    
    Justine

    
    sounds pretty cool to me.
    

    ....and out in the herb garden, the women walked the paths slowly,
    smelling the roses that grew upon the nearby trellises, lounging in the
    nearby hammocks, sitting beneath the trees in the afternoon sun,
    laughing and talking quietly....looking forward for the wondrous meal
    that sent its aroma wafting through the kitchen window and beckoned all
    to the sharing that would be......
    
    -Jody
    

    Oddly enough, I had a dream that involved womannotes last night also. 
    My dream took a somewhat different flavor from .0's though. ;^)  I
    dreamed that womannotes was holding some sort of a fundraiser for a
    women's shelter and that we had managed to get some famous stars to
    attend.  One of the stars was Matthew Broderick.  Seriously. :-)  In my
    dream I was determined to go over and talk to him, and eventually did
    get up the courage to, not only talk to him, but invite him to dinner. 
    In the dream I was talking to him, and, at one point, he asked me if I
    wanted to go back to his hotel with him after dinner.  I accepted and
    then he said, "I didn't expect to get seduced at a fund raiser for a
    women's shelter."  So much for my idea of women's space, I guess.
    
    Maybe sometime Joyce will write in her recent dream about
    womannotes. :-)
    
    Lorna
    

    Uh huh, I can imagine Joyce's dream. ;*) Lorna, you and Joyce and I must
    be relics from days past. My dreams are for something rather different
    than chatting with other women. I mean, that's nice and all, but not
    the stuff of dreams for me. Maybe it's because I worked in the hosptial
    ghetto and was surounded by mostly all women for 7 years. My goal after
    that was to work where I *wasn't* around women all day. Guess that
    means I'm not PC. :*) (oh no! does that mean I won't get laid?!) liesl

Karen's dream took me back to my earliest college days when I lived with a
constantly changing group of people in a huge old Victorian farmhouse several
miles from campus.

The difference was that it was a mixed gender collective [although there were
pockets of total woman-space ... notably the third floor, but I digress] Also
we had no sauna or flotation tank [although we had a warm-spring pond].

A big kitchen [my domain], an acre of garden [Larry's], lively conversations,
music always [from folk to Eastern to _very_ early new age], and everyone had 
books.

We helped each other build personal spaces to suit our whims [like my room
was converted from a 7X14 cubby that used to be used for bathing to a two
storey loft with a bed 7 feet off the floor --- 12.5' ceilings helped]

We also experimented with looms and rug-making techniques and stained glass; 
fibres and textures. sounds and smells.

The permanent population was seven, but we had temporary residents and guests
all the time.  The fewest number in residence I was ever able to count was 15.

The only drugs on the premises were beer, wine, and good company.

Although not paradise, I would dearly love to see that sort of atmosphere
re-born in my life.

  Annie

    *********CENSORED**********

    re .7, :-)  Good idea!  Talk about a glass chewing feminist....
    
    Lorna
    

    
    	I dream of an orgy with beautiful girlies.
    
    
    	G. George

    
    
    I'm still dreaming of that women's center with a coffee house,
    bookstore/reading room, and bath...  I've often fantasized about
    (if I won the lottery (which I don't play) or somehow found myself
    suddenly rich) buying some old, abandoned mill building and
    converting it into a "woman's mall"  -- not the usual commercial kind
    of place (though, Lorna, maybe you could have an antique shop..)
    but a place full of woman-centered space and activities.
    
    Of course, we'd probably have the usual arguments about -what about the
    men?-  Maybe upstairs could be the public area with shops that sold
    cool artsy stuff (like Thorne's Market in Northampton) and downstairs
    could be protected women's space where the bath would be....
    
    Guess we'd need a few investors, though...  Maybe it's time to start
    buying lottery tickets.
    
    Justine

    RE:355.5
    >>Guess that means I'm not PC.
                 I hope I am not offending the noter of .5 
        What is PC ?  
        (Just Curious)
        
Jessie
      

    
    	RE: .12  Jessie
    
    	PC = Politically correct
    
    	It is a self-deprecating term used by people who tend to be on
    	the liberal/valuing_differences side.  It's meant in a humorous
    	way (when referring to oneself.)
    
    	It is also used (by others) as an insult to the folks above (with
    	the implication that PC people don't think - but just follow.)
    	No sense of humor, I guess.  :):)

    An iteration of the dream, over 200 years ago.
    
    aq
    
    
    
    From _Eyewitness to History_ edited by John Carey.  ISBN 0-380-70895-7
    
    Turkish Bath:  Adrianople, 1 April 1717
    
    by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
    The author was wife of the English ambassador to Turkey.
    
    I went to the Bagnio about 10 a clock.  It was already full of Women. 
    It is built of Stone in the shape of a Dome with no windows but in the
    Roofe, which gives Light enough.  There was 5 of these domes joyn'd
    together, the outmost being less than the rest and serving only as a
    hall where the portress stood at the door.  Ladys of Quality gennerally
    give this Woman the value of a crown or 10 shillings, and I did not
    forget that ceremony.  The next room is a very large one, pav'd with
    marble, and all round it rais'd 2 sofas of marble, one above another. 
    There were 4 fountains of cold Water in this room, falling first into
    marble Basins and then running on the floor in little channels made for
    that purpose, which carry'd the streams into the next room, something
    less than this, with the same sort of marble sofas, but so hot with
    streams of sulphur proceeding from the baths joyning to it, twas
    impossible to stay there with one's Cloths on.  The 2 other domes were
    the hot baths, one of which had cocks of cold Water turning into it to
    temper it to what degree of warmth the bathers have a mind to.
    
    I was in my travelling Habit, which is a rideing dress, and certainly
    appear'd very extrodinary to them, yet there was not one of 'em that
    shew'd the least surprize or impertinent Curiosity, but receiv'd me
    with all the obliging civility possible.  I know no European Court
    where the Ladys would have behav'd them selves in so polite a manner to a
    stranger.
    
    I believe in the whole there were 200 Women and yet none of those
    disdainfull smiles or satyric whispers that never fail in our assemblys
    when any body appears that is not dress'd exactly in fashion.  They
    repeated over and over to me, (italics) Uzelle, pek uzelle (end
    italics), which is nothing but, Charming, very charming.  The first
    sofas were cover'd with Cushions and rich Carpets, on which sat the
    Ladys, and on the 2nd their slaves behind 'em, but without any
    distinction of rank by their dress, all being in the state of nature,
    that is, in plain English, stark naked, without any Beauty or deffect
    conceal'd, yet there was not the least wanton smile or immodest Gesture
    amongst 'em.  They Walk'd and mov'd with the same majestic Grace with
    Milton describes of our General Mother.  There were many amongst them
    as exactly proportion'd as ever any Goddess was drawn by the pencil of
    Guido or Titian, andd most of their skins shineingly white, only adorn'd
    by their Beautifull Hair divided into many tresses hanging on their
    shoulders, braided either with pearl or riband, perfectly representing
    the figures of the Graces.  I was here convinc'd of the Truth of a
    Refflexion that I had often made, that if twas the fashion to go naked,
    the face would be hardly observ'd.  I perceiv'd that the Ladys with the
    finest skins and most delicate shapes had the greatest share of my
    admiration, tho their faces were sometimes less beautifull than those
    of their companions.  To tell you the truth, I had wickeness enough to
    wish secretly that Mr Gervase could have been there invisible.  I fancy
    it would have very much improv'd his art to see so many fine Women
    naked in different postures, some in conversation, some working, others
    drinking coffee or sherbert, and many negligently lying on their
    Cushions while their slaves (generally pritty Girls of 17 or 18) were
    employ'd in braiding their hair in several pritty manners.  In short,
    tis the Women's coffee house, where all the news of the Town is told,
    Scandal invented, etc.  They gennerally take this Diversion once a
    week, and stay there at least 4 or 5 hours without getting cold by
    immediate coming out of the hot bath into the cool room, which was
    very surprizing to me.  The Lady that seem'd the most considerable
    amongst them entreated me to sit by her and would fain have undress'd
    me for the bath.  I excus'd my selfe with some difficulty, they being
    all so earnest in perswading me.  I was at last forc'd to open my skirt
    and shew them my stays, which satisfy'd 'em very well, for I saw they
    beleiv'd I was so lock'd up in that machine that it was not in my own
    power to open it, which contrivance they attributed to my Husband.
    
    Printed without permission.
    

    re: .11
    
    Perhaps you've missed the point?  Yes, there are many women walking
    the malls during the day, after they've left *their* kitchens, that is.
    
    But what is in these malls?  I don't mean the occasional, brave
    but frightened male who is trying to buy something, I mean, what do
    the malls offer the women.  Clothes and products designed mostly for
    men to suit *their* needs, not the women's.  Just look at each year's
    fashion designs or better yet, the shoes.  Designed by some man
    on Madison Ave. (Calvin?) according to how *he* wants women to look.
    \
    Oh sure, we have plenty of women-space, as long as we ignore the
    mazazine covers that accost us in every book store, the fashions,
    "dearie you must be a size 5 if you are to please your man"
    the cosmetic shops, Victoria's Secrets, Fredericks of Hollywood,
    (ah, now that is a true womens' store [sarcasm intended].
    
    SO where are those places for women where we can find and buy what
    we want, where we can dictate what we want to wear, how we want to
    look, and above all, how we want to feel?
    
    Grrr.
    Maia
    

    
    
    I shouldn't have used the phrase "women's mall."  I meant a women's
    center with lots of different activities.  If there were also some kind
    of business, I imagine that it would be open to the public.  
    
    I'm sorry if my characterization of this derailed this wonderful topic.
    
    
    Dream on!
    
    Justine

    
    Something magical is in the air!  I've been thinking seriously 
    along these lines as well.
    
    Many of my women friends are going through a very introspective 
    passage in their lives.  They are having difficulty focusing 
    through the veil of every-day reality onto their inner selves.  
    Many are unsure what they want for themselves.  Many are doing 
    extensive emotional, psychological, and spiritual work to heal 
    themselves.  All express a desire to go someplace "safe" for a 
    while, where they are free from the pressures upon them, where 
    they can sort out their thoughts, ideals, emotions, and goals.
    
    So last week, in the concurrent blur of lingering hangovers and 
    sporadic inspirations, I decided what I want to do is buy one of
    the small, mystical, unpopulated islands in the Puget Sound.  On
    it I (and others) would build a women's retreat center.  I don't
    know what we would call it.  Labrys Island, maybe.  It would be 
    reached by ferry through Puget Sound past other San Juan islands.
    
    It would be modern, clean, and would have light beechwood floors, 
    enormous windows in every room (with heavy shutters to keep out 
    the morning light in case one's inability to sleep after dawn 
    mirrors mine), expansive lawns peppered with lawnchairs and big
    bright flower gardens, a health food oriented restaurant, daily 
    massages, an Olympic-sized pool, a huge library housing women-
    oriented and spiritual books and articles, an airy coffeehouse 
    where you could communicate with other women, a club to dance, 
    a flotation tank to escape whatever, poetry readings, talk 
    sessions, and a strong emphasis that there is not a drop of
    pressure to socialize with others unless that is your desire.
    
    Walking along the cool beach alone, fishing, spending hours 
    meditating and soul-searching, sitting up in a big evergreen
    treehouse writing prose, picking wild blackberries, and all 
    other alone-time activities would be honored and respected.
    
    Women would pay what they could afford, since not all women
    are as financially blessed as others, and I would want Labrys
    Island to be accessible to all women who needed this space.
    
    All investors, staff members, and guests would be women.  All 
    orientations would be very welcome.
    
    Carla
    

    One of my dreams for a long time has been to take the proceeds
    from my novels (when and if I ever manage to sell any!) and invest
    them in a huge old farm, one on top of a hill where we can see the
    whole world but still be removed from it, one with lots of space
    to walk, one with porches to rest on and a porch swing to soothe
    our minds and bodies, one with a huge kitchen for nourishment and
    lots of sunshine pouring in the windows on sunny days, one with a
    big old woodstove or fireplace for gathering around on chilly
    rainy days, one with a huge mudroom or maybe a barn for storing
    cross-country skiis and snowshoes, one where the clatter of
    typewriters (updated version: the hum of word processors) and the
    buzz of thoughts told of writers at work.  I picture it full of
    energy and warmth and support, and celebrations of each other's
    success as we help each other through to understanding our own
    truths, even if it's not what the world wants to hear.
    
    I don't picture it as all women -- certainly I picture Neil there,
    and my children will drift in and out even if they don't live
    there.  It would be a place of support for a family made by love
    and choice as well as by blood.
    
    --bonnie 

    
    
    	Justine,
    
    	Would there be room in the back yard for a big field with
    	that wonderfully soft grass that New England has?
    
    	And how about tossing a football back and forth with someone?
    	I know it's not a very feminine thing to do, but I love 
    	throwing spirals with someone on a field, while we run around
    	in a circle diagonally opposite each other...
    
    							nancy b.
    

    could there be a separate field for frisbee ?

    
    Nancy, I'll play football with you if you promise not to break my
    finger :-)
    
    Justine

    re .21, there'd better be a *separate* field for Frisbee.  If there's
    anything I hate it's having people throwing Frisbees and balls over my
    head when I'm trying to read and/or relax.  I don't care if it is
    feminine, I still hate sports!
    
    Lorna