Molesting Mangoes?

Yeah right! Have you ever heard of anything so ridiculous?

I was gob smacked when I was accused of this very act. Just yesterday, in broad daylight at one of my favourite fruit and veggie shops a complete stranger was ready to put me in emotional handcuffs.

For those who are new to my blog, I am a nature lover. I am the sort of woman who apologises to flowers if I drop them whilst trying to trim and arrange their lovely legs in a vase. Mother Nature and Father Time have been my hearts parents all my life and I respect and adore them.

I won my first writing competition back in 1991 when the Green Movement first started showing us visions of the earth’s heart, “The Amazon Jungle” being brutally raped by bulldozers. I wrote into a radio station along with 12,000 other concerned nature lovers to try and win an opportunity to travel with scientists from the Smithsonian Institute into the heart of the Amazon to be a part of the solution. My written entry won, and went on an amazing two week expedition as my prize, that was life changing.

It was like visiting the earth’s heart. Mother Nature and Father Time dominate in the Amazon, and you can almost feel their breath on your back as you trek through the eerily beautiful, virgin jungle.

I have also grown my own fruit and veggies over the years, with much love. I have proudly produced the most amazing rocket, herbs, tomatoes and other organic delights through my labour of love. I would sing and talk to my fruit and veggie garden every morning. So I am a respectful lover of the fruits of Mother Earth and Father Time.

However that is the lighter side of my persona. I must also confess to the whole person that makes me, me. My flip side (or shadow side) is that of a recovering Warrior Bitch, born in the Year of the Tiger. It happens rarely these days, but I am still capable of launching into a full verbal attack if my hearts territory is disrespected in any way.

I work hard these days at not apologizing for being protective and fiercely loyal not just with my man, sons and intimate friends, but also with myself. If someone comes at me with an attack or disrespect and I will stand up and speak up for myself. Not always gracefully though, I am a work in progress, but I am getting better with Father Time’s tutoring.

As my elder Beautiful Barb so patiently and repetitively says to me “Practice makes better, not perfect. This journey is about progress not perfection, love”.

So I was minding my own business yesterday having a lovely morning shopping for our forthcoming trip to Moreton Island for the Australia Day holiday weekend. I had already bought some Lamingtons and Anzac biscuits and was full of peace and gratitude for my wonderful life.

We were invited by The Glamazon (one of my dearest girlfriends, read “Hungover” Blog to find out more about her) and her new lover she calls with a knowing smile, The Greek God. They asked us to join them along with their three diddliepops (children) to spend the weekend. They have a divine beachside apartment waiting for us that sits on the beach.  So I offered to do some cooking to beforehand to take over to help lighten the catering load for them during the three days we will be their guests.

Moreton Island has areas where you can feed dolphins. I have never done that and am so excited at the prospect.

I was privileged to experience a pink dolphin whilst in the Amazon jungle back in 1991. I never told anyone about it for years as I felt it was too sacred and I felt honestly quite shaken by it on a very deep level. I often get a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes when I speak about it. It left me speechless for quite some time. The first person I told was an Indigenous friend I met early in recovery. His safe chocolate eyes held me as I cried and whispered what my heart experienced all those years ago in the sacred presence of this pink dolphin.

So my heart was at peace as I shopped. I was gently touching the mangoes all lined up showing off their full flesh coloured, rubinesque bellies. I was taking my time pondering them all, to see which ones wanted to come home with me and star in the fruit salad I would create to take away with us.

“Take it easy on the mangoes” the stranger snapped his words from behind me.

As I turned I saw this skinny, grey bearded man who had the presence of stale cigarettes. He would have been in his late sixties, early seventies I guessed. I smiled and looked at him, then smiled again and turned back to what I was doing. I did my best to give him a gentle look so he would leave me be. I love and respect my beautiful mango friends and would never rough them up nor treat them poorly.

“I have to have them after you, so go easy.” He spat his words at me again as if he was chastising a disobedient dog.

He wanted my attention, and was invading my personal space standing way too close to me, with his uninvited and unwarranted attack.

I turned to him and made direct pupil contact, straightening my shoulders. I am about five feet, eleven inches in height so I am a tall woman, and I love it. He was quite a bit shorter than me, a small and frail man who was doing his best to intimidate me.

“Excuse me” I said quizzically, quite confused as to why he had decided to single me out.

“Don’t touch them, I will find you a ripe one”. He demanded.

"Excuse me”? I questioned him again, flabbergasted that he seemed to think that he had the authority to dictate to me.

At this point quite a few people in the crowded fruit shop stopped to stare at him. He was being really cranky.

In the past I would have done one of two things. I would have either apologized to him even though I was doing anything wrong, just so he wouldn’t get mad at me and scare me. Or I would have told him to fuck right off and been abusive back. I would have become the very thing he was being. Disrespectful.

I ignored him and continued my search for the right mango, turning my body away from him as he was now trying to stand over me in my personal space.

“You are molesting them.” His voice was now elevated and he became very annoyed that I hadn’t obeyed his demands.

I took a deep breath, turned and looked directly at him summonsing all of my strength so as not to lose my self respect or to let him scare me with his anger.

“I am not damaging them.” I paused and looked deeply into him.

“And so now you need to mind your own business”. I said firmly.

He looked like he was in shock. He lowered his eyes and walked away. As I went to the check out I could see others looking at me and smiling. The old man scurried out of the fruit shop and did not look back.

Beautiful Barb (my heart mother) has taught me over the years how to handle conflict with others with the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child. My Warrior Bitch (WB) has now pretty much retired. I remain eternally grateful to WB as she will still raise her sword for me anytime I call on her. She is loyal and her fighting spirit has protected me in years gone by, very well, when I did not know how to calmly assert and protect myself, any other way.

Being able to tell those invading our space or disrespecting us to step back is very important and liberating for those working at recovering their self respect. I was reflecting on yesterday’s blog about how I can sometimes be conflicted about conflict.

I did struggle a little after I walked out of the fruit shop with guilt. I was silenced with violence or the threat of it all through my formative years. I always gave way to angry men. I let them dominate and hated myself for being female and so powerless when I was little. This is when Warrior Bitch took over in my teens. As a little girl I had to play “dead mouse” go silent and not fight the predatory males that abused me throughout my childhood years. In my teens, twenties and early thirties with my Warrior Bitch fighting my battles, I still did not find peace. Although, I could keep dangerous predators at arm’s length with her expertise in wielding my verbal sword.

I was relaying the day’s events to my husband last night, questioning him to see if he thought I had been too harsh or had done the wrong thing by this rude man.

“It’s probably how he talks to his wife, he deserved to be told to fuck off, I think you were firm and also kind, but respectful and it had the desired outcome”. He said very frankly patting me on the knee.

“However, you should have said to him, can I see your badge.” He suggested.

“His badge, what do you mean?” I asked.

“Well the badge the Mango Police have to carry, you should have said, please show me your badge, I didn’t realize you were the Mango Police.” He joked.

I was eating lychees at the time and I laughed so much I swallowed a piece of fruit the wrong way.

I will be heading over to Moreton Island tomorrow so this will be my last blog until Wednesday next week. So for the Aussies that follow this email both here and overseas, Happy Australia Day. And to my other international visitors thank you for joining me here today I hope to catch you here again on January Wednesday 27th, 2010.

The Word Vitamins I will be taking today that you are welcome to share with me are by a wonderful wordsmith Publilius Syrus.

“You can accomplish by kindness what you cannot by force.”