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Circles in the Sand
by E.J. 'Samadhi' Whitehouse
345 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #04-1997; ISBN 1-4120-4190-2; US$27.00, C$31.50, EUR22.50, £15.75
www.samadhiwhitehouse.writerswebpages.com
From darkness into light... This frank memoir of incestuous love, coming out, "escape" to the Middle East, and spiritual growth will inspire those struggling toward their own healing truth. Veiled oppression of Arabian women was the crucial mirror needed to see her own reflection. Follow her search for what she thought was lost - her soul.
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About the Book About the Author Excerpts Catalogue Information
About the Book
A personal memoir of a woman's emotional and spiritual journey - from troubled teenage years in the '70s to spiritual enlightenment in the new millennium. Her soul wounded by her father's incestuous advances toward her, the author travels through several Middle-Eastern countries - an odd choice for a woman on a quest for sexual and self-identity, healing, and escape from her family - particularly her father. Without family support, she struggles to find spiritual wholeness, love of self, and her own truth.
In the war-torn Middle East, she encounters volatile political situations, the constricting laws of different countries and religions, as well as a confusing mix of social and moral behaviours. Throughout her travels, the poverty, terror, and brutal female oppression she often observes heighten her own sense of self-hatred. Meanwhile, her teenage pregnancy, the baby girl she was forced to surrender, and her father's inappropriate actions haunt her memory. Her personal struggles with being gay, as well as denial, rejection, and harsh treatment from her family, further convince her that she is worthless as a woman - and non-existent as a child of God.
But as she looks through the windows of her past, and into worlds many of us will never enter, she slowly begins to understand that her introspective journey has led directly to her soul. And this insight brings her to an acceptance of being gay, to her own belief in spirit, and to a sense of belonging.
For all its raw honesty about many painful subjects-including the rape and execution of women in the Middle East - Circles in the Sand evokes the exotic tastes, sounds, and beauties of Arabia. And it shares with us the poignancy of women engaging together when temporarily apart from men - and briefly freed from their forced restraints.
The author's journey into the light of self-acceptance - from a dark place where her sexuality kept her in chains - will resonate with the many who have struggled with becoming open and comfortable about their homosexuality. Her lifetime quest to have her own voice heard will speak to a wide range of today's women, whose internal struggles for acceptance are the same.
The cycle has not yet been broken, but that time will come, as the young women of today listen to the voices of the past - and discover the wisdom of those women who have already walked a labyrinth of circles in the sand.
About the Author
Edna Whitehouse now goes by her nickname, Samadhi - which means "Being one with the Divine and being in the moment." Each time she hears Samadhi, it reminds her that she is part of love - a continuous affirmation.
Samadhi began her writing career by winning two contests; the first was for Focus On Women, a Victoria-based magazine. Her essay, "Two Hearts In One," spoke of her healing journey through her first heart surgery, and the correlation of illness and forgiveness. Her second essay, "A Gut Reaction," for the on-line magazine, Outback, showed the risks as well as the fun of exotic travel abroad.
At the age of 48, Samadhi decided it was time to dive into her passion and give full-time writing a chance. The outcome is Circles in the Sand. She is currently working on her second book, Separated at Birth.
A writer who has never forgotten what it feels like to be young and to be silenced, Samadhi*s messages are: Break the cycle of dysfunction. Find your voice - be heard. Take back your own power. Go girls!
After years of travel, including visiting, living, and/or working in Europe, Lebanon, Syria, Israel, Saudi Arabia, Jordan, India, Egypt, Oman, the United Arab Emirates, and Thailand, Samadhi now lives in Victoria, British Columbia, on Vancouver Island - surrounded by the ocean and its life force.
Excerpts
Excerpt from:
Those Who Have Not Sinned - Cast the First StoneRumours started to circulate about a stoning in Chop-Chop Square. An unmarried girl was accused of premarital sex, and her sentence was death. Everyone was talking about this. It was thick in the air. She would be brought out in a bag, so that she could not see anything, and all the men would throw stones at her, starting with small ones, until she died.
Friday, the Muslim holy day, arrived. The call for prayer came at noon, and then it was as if Riyadh stopped breathing. Every woman knew that after prayer, this girl would be executed. I sat in my flat, my heart pounding, as I sensed her fear and torture. I sent her love and angels, and prayed for her to lose consciousness immediately.
I had always enjoyed the lament of the call to prayer; it always felt mystical. But on that Friday, I hated it. I thought of men cleansing themselves before entering the mosque, leaving their women and babies wherever, regardless of the heat, and then walking into the square to cheer, as they stoned to death an innocent soul.
Out of all the executions that took place throughout my time in Saudi, this day was the worst. It was all but unbearable to know that fathers were allowed to do honour killings: they could kill their daughters or wives if they even just suspected some misdeed. Stories abounded about girls being drowned by their fathers, girls being put into a locked room to starve and go crazy, and maids being raped. Even outside the hospital, there were Saudi women begging, forced to sit on the ground and ask for money, while the men walked by and ignored them. These women had been beaten and kicked out for offences mustered up by crazy husbands, and now, their families refused to take them back.
I had always felt in my heart that if I could touch one woman, my time there would be blessed. Touching me still didn't quite register in my consciousness.
Excerpt from:
An Answer to My Letter [1995]I didn't know that [my family] had already received a letter from Dad in response to what I had written him. It began with a preamble:
I'm pleased that Edna did write her letter to me because it opened my eyes to what has really been going on in the minds of my children. It has also provided me with the opportunity to review my past and to respond to her in a sincere and forthright manner. And to this end, let me stress that there will be no further discussion or correspondence with any of you in respect to these matters. Edna has stated her concerns and I have responded. That's the end of it as far as I'm concerned.Uh-oh, it didn't take much to realize that he had no intention of speaking from his heart in an honest way. Or maybe, this was his honest way. Deception and denial are very powerful when one needs to survive. His entire letter ran to forty-five pages. Addressed to me, with copies distributed to my siblings, it in part said:
I have read your letter several times - not in anger, but to reflect and determine if I really was the mean, cruel, heartless, lying, stealing, inconsiderate, mentally and sexually abusive father you suggest I was. You wrote that I attempted to get into bed with you. Do you honestly believe that's a true statement?...You also wrote that I was telling everyone that you were my mistress. I believe I did make that statement to a young man - jokingly - on the aircraft, as he seemed to like you.
Now, I have a question for you:
Have you ever had or shown in any way a greater affection for me than you should have? (You don't have to answer this - it's just food for thought.)
Certainly, my behaviour in Montreal was bizarre - my whole life was bizarre at that time. It was a midlife crisis. It's too bad I didn't think of this when I was confronted by you and your sisters.
You dated a man who worked for me - and you slept with him. And then you would come to church with your mother and me, and take communion, even though you'd had sex with him. I commented that this was sinful, and you rationalized it by saying you loved him. God doesn't accept reasons for sinning!
Picking myself up off the floor, I wondered if I could get through the rest of his letter. There just aren't words to explain what it's like to have your father spew venom and gasoline all over you and then light a match, only to continue spewing lies while you are frantically burning to death right before him. His descriptions of what didn't happen creeped me out - he was almost describing what did happen.
The next part of his letter was highlighted:
Most important of all - if you were so concerned about me, why in the name of anything logical or sane would you ever want to go to Montreal with me? And I might add that you were extremely elated about the trip. I also remember that you and your Mother had a bit of an argument at the time. She was not happy about the situation. But you still went. Why? Makes one think doesn't it?You've always been treated like a little innocent child, needing to be taken care of. When we went to Montreal, you were no child. You were a woman who was already a mother and certainly knew her way around the gay bars, the straight bars, knew where the dope was, and much, much more. You were very mature, like nineteen going on thirty-two.
And you say your mother didn't love you - what a stupid, ignorant, and ungrateful statement. If she turned against you because of Montreal, it's because she was of the opinion that you provoked me on occasion. You say she rejected you. She rejected your lesbian lifestyle, and so did I, and so did other family members.
After your question regarding my raping and beating your mother, it took me several days to get my reasoning back... and then I confronted your mother. ...
