Book of Sighs

By Marina MX Noar

Nobody gets through life without experiencing trauma. But it doesn’t have to be a life sentence. Learn how Marina MX Noar learned to let go of trauma in true stories about her life as a gifted young woman, artist and yoga teacher.

The truth in your story is your power too. It liberates you from whatever is holding you back from reaching your potential.

What we learn and know - our wisdom - is the key to our future, personal freedom and prosperity. Believing what we are told is in the past. Learning how to think better and tell true stories is the future.

WARNING: This book contains references to sex and violence. It is not recommended for people under 15 years old. The names are not real and not intended to be derogatory or defamatory.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Marina MX Noar b.1960

M.Ed., B.A., Dip. Teach., Senior Cert. Yoga Teaching

Marina is an inspirational teacher, artist and author. She is passionate about helping people have faith in themselves with cognitive, creative and constructive processes, after guiding herself and others to heal from crippling injuries and diseases like cancer.

Since 1982, Marina taught in primary and secondary schools, universities and adult education facilities. She supervised an independent art school and trained indigenous people to operate a Qld govt printery, before starting a high-end boutique and design studio with a partner.

In 1989, Marina established the first contemporary art gallery in Cairns. She became a Board Member for Cairns (Regional) Art Gallery and an independent art commentator, before launching her first solo art exhibition in 2001. Her artwork has been selected for international exhibitions of contemporary art since 2003.

Marina has been teaching yoga at Noosa Leisure Centre since 2005. She is the Founder and Program Manager for Noosa Yoga.

FIND THE AUTHOR ONLINE

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/marinamueckeart

Instagram: www.instagram.com/accidentalyogaicon

Email: [e-mail]

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 8, 2021
• ISBN: 9781716496868

Book preview

publication.

- Part I -

Portrait of the Artist as a Young Woman

Chapter One

Naked

I could not wait to wear lipstick, high heels and skirts, to take up more space. The smell of vintage lipstick still brings back happy memories of dressing up with girls from next door, in the old house. It was built by my father, before he built the family home in front. The old house is where we played with Mum’s 50s-style clothes, kept in a metal treasure chest downstairs.

It was only three steps down and six steps across soggy lawn to the old house. But being there was like living on an island. It was isolated from the world outside. On a wall inside, my father had pencilled a man standing beside a palm tree on a beach, looking out to sea. It covered most of the wall and didn’t have borders. Boundaries were blurred when we played in the old house. We pretended all sorts of things were possible. Girls could be boys, a mother or father, nurse, doctor, or glamorous movie star. Then the older girls suddenly stopped playing.

They had breasts and pubic hair and thought they were more important than prepubescent girls, with more important things to do than play make believe. That’s when I learned teenage girls had private parts that were not to be seen or touched. Before then, boys would pull their pants down in front of us to pee, with both hands on their private parts, while girls would squat awkwardly to pee without getting wet. Girls didn’t touch themselves, or pee with authority like boys. Boys were mortified when girls stood to pee. They liked to watch us squat and would be more agreeable afterwards. But most girls believed peeing and private parts were best kept secret. They were unspoken, untouched and not to be shown or shared.

I was twelve when a friend’s mother showed me there was nothing wrong with being naked. She was swimming naked in their pool. I thought it was what wealthy people did because they had private properties and in-ground pools. We had an above-ground pool at home, which was common for middle class families in Cairns. We had a bigger property than most people but shared it with all the kids in our neighbourhood. We were always playing outside, unless it was the wet season, when it rained for months. Then we played in the old house.

Some children were not allowed to play until homework, chores or music lessons were done. But not because they were Greek, Russian, German, Chinese, Jewish, rich or poor, which they were in my street. Snobs were not tolerated at school either. Everyone sang God Save the Queen and stood when the national flag was raised. The words were without meaning and the tune was mediocre, but singing the national anthem rallied us every day. It brought us together, regardless of our differences.

It was the swinging 60s, when peace and love prevailed. Art, music, movies and fashion flourished. We dressed up to go to town on Fridays and went to church on Sundays. Our family went to Green Island for weeks at a time in school holidays, where the restaurant had dress codes for fine dining.

For men, it meant wearing safari suits or shorts and tropical shirts, worn by Elvis in popular movies. His on-stage sexuality was about social freedom, compared with post-war austerity in the 50s. It was an era of optimism and hedonism, when people saw themselves as different from their parents and part of a modern, mass media culture about peace and prosperity and social revolution.

Young people had money to spend on fashion, music, magazines and movies. Women backcombed their hair high like movie stars, looking glamorous in exotic caftans and sunglasses, capri pants, crop tops and mini dresses. It was fashionable to show bare skin and legs, with breasts in push-up bras and a body like Marilyn Monroe. But prepubescent girls never dressed provocatively. Only teenagers wore bikinis.

I was ten and on Green Island when a man put his tongue in my mouth. I knew it was wrong because children were called naughty and disciplined when we poked our tongue out. I said nothing when the man laughed because I thought it was supposed to be funny. My older sister knew better. We shared a bedroom until she went to university.

Chapter Two

Black Sheep

I was the middle child and destined to be a black sheep in the family. I was going to make mistakes, be ridiculed and even rejected. I was going to question beliefs and traditions, initiate change and innovate. I was going to push boundaries but not because I was special. It wasn’t in my DNA. I was born an outsider. I was so different from my sister that we led separate lives, until we were mature enough to appreciate our differences.

Being an outsider is still a position in the family, groups and social organisations. It provides a place to be in the world, until you value yourself and others enough to let go of the need to be different. Sometimes, it feels so unpleasant to be the black sheep, that people comfort themselves by thinking and feeling they are special. They don’t realise that when you can be yourself without thinking you are different or special, is when you can feel free to share your thoughts, feelings and abilities with others. It’s when you can experience the unlimited power of interconnectedness and receive unlimited inspiration. It’s when you can be all that you can be.

The black sheep often feels disconnected, alone and isolated. It helps them cultivate their inner world. Some creative people choose to be a black sheep because it enables them to have time, space and energy to dwell in the deeper recesses of their mind and soul. They do not want to be distracted by people.

When black sheep bring their inner world to the outside, they can find it frustrating and challenging, if they are not used to people not taking them seriously. They may withdraw or withhold, when what they really need is to practise expressing what they truly think and feel, so their expression gets stronger and they become more effective communicators.

It is not helpful to think people don’t get you. Being understood requires practise. It requires understanding yourself and your point of view so well, that simply telling your truth makes it resonate with others. The important thing about speaking your truth is to be honest about your intention. Are you loving yourself and others by speaking your truth, or are you using it to control others?

I never noticed being different in primary school and never needed friends. I was never bored. I enjoyed being with boys more than girls. It didn’t matter that kids were all different, smart or stupid, wore fashionable clothes or not. Some were good at sports, maths, writing, art or music, while others were not. Some smelled bad because they were not clean. It didn’t matter. Everyone had a place in the school parade, classroom and playground.

We called each other nicknames like Frenchy, Chingchong, Wog, Dago, Abo, Kraut and amusing versions of our surnames. Some nicknames referred to physical features like big-ears. People wearing glasses were called 4-eyes. Everyone had