Dear Google Mail:

I have been a loyal user for more than five years now, and during that time we have happily...and effectively...shared the bond of English as our common tongue.

It appears, however, that you have begun taking language lessons, a la our erstwhile symbologist and musician, the singer formerly and presently (with a hiatus in between as a symbol) known as Prince. It didn't help his image or communication to become something unpronounceable that people had to stumble around to understand and/or articulate and, trust me, it's not helping yours, either.

There used to be a button with actual words on it...words that informed me of its purpose...that took me back to the inbox from an open email. There was no question in my mind when I wanted to go to the next mail which button to click. But recently I have found that button missing and in its place is a symbol that looks like the arrow on my enter key. How am I supposed to intuit the meaning of this symbol? I do not want to enter something, I just want to go back to the list of emails, ya know?

I may be a little late to the party here, since the first substitution I noticed was a replacement of the word "refresh" with the browser symbol for same. OK, a little more straightforward than the bent arrow, I must admit, but still not English...and still overlooked by the eye hunting for the button written in English that has been so clear and serviceable all these years.

I am sure that if you respond, it will be to tell me that you are changing this to make a single symbol-laden mail page for people of all languages, that making the interface in twenty gazillion languages is an unnecessary and undue burden on your resources. But when your attention goes to your bottom line at the expense of engaging your customers, you leave them little choice but to "vote with their feet" when the next latest and greatest alternative comes around. And it will--look what happened to MySpace when FaceBook reared its ugly head.

Facebook is digging itself a grave, one unwelcome change at a time and perhaps you should take notice of the dissatisfaction of its users...oh, you have--that's what Google+ is all about? Well, apparently you have missed the motivation for the customer dissatisfaction that will drive them out of Facebook's arms and into yours: gratuitous changes to the interface that the users don't like. It's not enough that the change somehow benefits the site, it must also be either explained to the users in terms that makes the change to their benefit or convenience or the benefit/convenience must be immediately apparent to the user. When a change renders an interface inconvenient, annoying, or cumbersome to the user, the user grumbles. When enough cavalier, grumble-worthy changes occur, the user begins looking for alternatives. Facebook opened its arms to those dissatisfied with MySpace but has committed an endless string of offenses in the eyes of its users and those people will migrate, without conscience, to Google+ if they perceive it to be more friendly to them and their concerns.

So, Google, let's not queer the deal before it even gets off the ground. Stop behaving like Facebook and changing things willy-nilly, putting your corporate objectives ahead of the preferences of your users. We don't like things that work to be changed unless the change is an improvement...and a symbol I cannot read and must ponder to decipher is not an improvement over a button clearly labelled in my mother-tongue.

Sincerely,

SweetVioletSA
Longtime user

Symbols, rituals, and ancient beliefs

When we were to be first married in California, I tried to incorporate something of my soon-to-be husband’s culture into the day. He was, after all, half a world away from his family on this most important day. I therefore asked him to find an “auspicious” day for our marriage, an important consideration in his faith and culture. He consulted his mother, who consulted a Brahmin, and the day of November 8 was chosen.

When we decided, five years later, to marry in his cultural traditions, we again asked his mother to consult a Brahmin for us for an auspicious day. I hoped November 8 would again be such a day, since it was our actual anniversary and the sentimentalist in me wanted both ceremonies to share the same day. Happily it was, and so on the day of our fifth anniversary, we were married again, this time in the Hindu fashion.

It was a joyful, if exhausting, day. On the one hand, since we’ve been legally married for five years, one could view the event as a renewal of our original vows, but it was more significant than that. Despite my having been well and truly accepted by his family from the beginning, this was treated by them as a true wedding, small and intimate perhaps, but a real wedding nonetheless.

At 61, you don’t really expect to hear people “oooh” and “ahhh” over your appearance. When we arrived at the temple, the Aunties were already gathered, along with a few uncles, and I was greeted with “Oh, what a beautiful bride you make!” and “How lovely you are!” unexpectedly affirming comments. How wonderful these people are, taking me into their hearts, despite the fact that I am so much older than their beloved nephew and the vast differences in their culture and mine. Truth be told, I feel more accepted and loved by the members of this family than I do by many of the members of my own.

Hindu weddings, like western ones, are flexible in their structure. There is no rigid format to follow, but there are certain elements that must be included for the marriage to be considered official. For Western religious weddings, there are the exchange of vows, the blessings, the prayers and often, the exchange of rings. These have both direct and symbolic meaning, but the composition of the ceremony is variable, assuming the essential elements are observed. Hindu weddings are no different in this regard.

But Hinduism is an Eastern religion, very different from our Western ones, and certain aspects of the marriage ceremony reflect that difference. We did not, for example, exchange any vows or promises, a difference I find significant in the most fundamental sense. In a Western wedding, two people come together and make promises to each other in the presence of an authority figure (religious or secular). A promise made is a promise that can be broken and too often it is. Those promises set up an expectation in the bride and the groom, an expectation which is the foundation of the trust that underpins the marriage. The keeping…and breaking…of those vows are central to the security of the marriage.

We took no vows, made no promises. We were participants in a ritual with its origins predating Christianity by millennia, its roots firmly planted in the natural and organic elements of the earth. The ceremony uses flowers, coconut, rice grains, fruit, ghee (made from butter), spices, mango and betel leaves, betel nuts, camphor, and various herbs and spices. Fresh flowers signify beauty and joy, the coconut is a symbol of fertility, rice and fruit signify food for the sustenance of life. Ghee feeds the holy fire, which represents light and warmth. A red vermillion powder, kum kum, is used for blessings and good luck and, when placed as a dot on the forehead of the bride, it is the mark of a married woman.

Everything centres around the holy fire. In the Hindu tradition, fire is the first of the five basic elements, and the only one that is visible, tangible, and which has the power to either nurture or destroy everything in its wake. Fire is therefore invoked as a representation of the ultimate divinity, the sun. Agni, the holy fire, is viewed as the purifier and is witness to most important ceremonies, including marriage. (Hindu prayers involve the lighting of a lamp…the God Lamp…for even the briefest of prayers. The fire carries the message to the gods.)

During the ceremony a brass pot symbolizing the human body is filled with holy water, topped with a coconut (symbolizing the head) and surrounded by five mango leaves and placed on a leaf covered with raw rice. This symbolizes the control of the body, mind, and senses, which lead to self-realization.

Threads dipped in turmeric and tied around a small stick were infused with prayers, then tied around our wrists. The thread symbolized the divine power invoked and is intended to serve as a shield from harm and evil. It is important during a ceremony such as marriage to keep away all spirits of harm and evil (if it works, then I can relax, assured that my mother’s spirit wasn’t there!). The priest put rings on us made of a special grass to indicate purity of mind: this is a grass which is believed to have the capability of purifying water and giving the warmth and speed of fire to metal. We had no engagement rings, so rings made of this grass, which can be substituted for gold and silver in temples, were placed on our hands in their stead.

Symbols and dreams and the life within

It’s no secret that my mother and I had a poor relationship…toxic, in fact. But I spent five years in therapy and she has been dead for at least ten years now, so you’d think it would be over, right? At least I thought it was over. But last night I had a disturbing dream and this morning I am struggling to puzzle it out.

Some facts from my childhood that have bearing on the dream:

My parents were divorced (for the second time) when I was ten years old. My mother made my brother and I choose which parent we wanted to live with. My younger brother chose her, I chose our father. My mother insisted we make this choice even though she knew the court would give custody of both of us to her. This labelled me a traitor and my brother the fair-haired boy.

In our post-divorce household, the only alarm clock in the house was in my room. I was designated the one to awaken first, figure out ways to get my sluggard brother out of bed, make breakfast and pack lunches for the two of us and, as my last act before walking out the door to school, awaken my mother and make sure she was out of bed before my brother and I left. We had to be quiet…waking her before it was time for her to get up was an offence punishable by a beating (quite literally), so I was thrown upon my own devices for solving problems or risk a beating if Mother did not think the problem was sufficient to awaken her early.

Mother was capricious, but not in a good way. What she considered funny and cute on Monday was, inexplicably, worthy of a beating on Wednesday, and fodder for complaining to her friends about how difficult her life was on Saturday. I seldom knew what was acceptable or not, especially when it came to approaching her. I considered my mother completely random, so bringing a problem to her had equal chances of being perceived as something worthy of her attention and worthy of a beating for bothering her with stuff I should be handling myself. Going to my mother for anything was fraught with peril. I got a beating for outgrowing my dresses, I got a beating for having holes in the bottoms on my only pair of shoes, I got a beating when my brother misbehaved because I, as the oldest one, was expected to make him behave (never mind he was bigger than I was). I was afraid of my mother and avoided her as much as possible.

I never talked back to my mother. I was terrified of her, and to say anything that she might interpret as a criticism or retort was to invite punishment. While a thin leather dog leash…“the strap”…was the most popular instrument of discipline, other things would unexpectedly turn up as punishment…giving my pet animals away, giving my toys away, refusing to allow me to go to a Girl Scout meeting (I was eventually dropped for poor attendance), rescinding permission to attend a school choir performance in which I was the featured soloist… I was very careful to keep my mouth shut around her and stay as much out of sight as possible, lest I inadvertently open the door to new and more devastating retribution.

I married at 17 and left home, never to return. Mother and I often went years without speaking to each other, sometimes not even knowing where the other one was. We never shared a roof after I moved out, nor did we ever share any possessions…my mother did not share, she simply took from me what she wanted and handed down to me what she did not. My needs were immaterial in the face of what she wanted me to have…or not have.

And so I found myself dreaming that I was going to be late for work because I couldn’t find the keys to my car. I searched the whole house until I happened to look out a window and saw them hanging on the branch of the tree that was growing outside the window.

I reached out the window, straining to grab them, but they were just out of reach. They were hung on a new shoot, fairly green and tender, and I surmised they would just fall into my hand, if only I could reach them.

I went outside, but it was quickly apparent that they were even further out of reach from outside the house.

I went back inside and asked my brother if he could reach them. He looked out the window and shrugged “Why should I?” he asked.

“Because I’ll be late for work,” I replied.

“Not my problem,” he said with a shrug and walked away.

I was standing at the door to a bedroom, pondering if I should open it or not. I really needed those keys, but waking my mother up was always a risky thing. She had had the car last and she had somehow been able to put those keys on the tree limb, so she should be able to get them back down. My reasoning was impeccable, but it didn’t assuage the cold knot of terror that choked off my breath. Slowly I opened the door.

Mother was asleep on her side, a white blanket pulled up to her chin. I gently shook her shoulder. “Mother, I need your help.”

One green eye flicked open. “What it so important that you’re waking me up?” she asked sharply.

I started to hyperventilate. “The car keys…you left them on a branch and I can’t reach them. I need them or I’ll be late for work.”

“Oh, for crying in the apple orchard,” she said with a sneer, her eyes rolling. “Can’t you do anything yourself?”

Reaching out her bedroom window she snatched the keys from the limb and clapped them forcefully into my hand. “Now, can I get some sleep, for god’s sake?” she asked and stomped huffily back to bed.

I stood there holding the keys, looking at the branch, and suddenly realized that the house keys were on the rings as well as the car keys. And the peril we had been in…anybody could have climbed that tree and had access not only to the car, but to the house as well, while we slept obliviously through the invasion.

A rage came over me…how dare she endanger us all in such a cavalier fashion? My fear of her falling away with this realisation, I clutched the keys tightly and shouted at her sleeping form.

“Don’t you ever leave these keys outside again! We could all have been killed! If this ever happens again, I won’t let you use my car, you’ll have to get your own!”

She did not stir.

Still furious, I ran down the hall, snatched up my handbag and ran to the front door. Snatching it open, I came to an abrupt halt. There, at the curb where my car should be, was a car I didn’t recognize. It was an old…perhaps a mid-1980s model…Ford Grenada. The paint, an almost iridescent purplish midnight blue, looked new but the rest of the car was a mess. Excesses of chrome hung off the body, flashing brightly in the morning light but dented and falling off the car. The seats were sagging and soiled and when I sat behind the wheel, I could barely see over it. The car was old and dented, tarnished and tawdry, and it wasn’t mine…but when I fit the key into the ignition and turned it, the car started with a mighty roar.

I put the car in gear and drove away without a look backwards.


------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dream Symbol Definitions from http://www.thecuriousdreamer.com

automobile The means by which you move forward in your life, the context within which you grow personally and learn your life lessons;Your personal integrity and the "sum of all our parts" (our knowledge, intentions, abilities, etc.) at the time of the dream. Your car being stolen can represent a feeling that someone or something is trying to compromise your integrity, take advantage of you, or take something that belongs to you—in a dishonest, sneaky, or manipulative way.

blaming Blaming someone can represent an effort to understand a situation or identify the cause, or an unwillingness to take responsibility for events in your own life. Suing someone would be an extreme example of blaming.

blue Royalty or distinction, honesty or sincerity (as in "true blue"), average or "regular" (as in "blue jeans" or "blue collar"), relaxation, or spirituality

broken object A broken or damaged object can represent a less than perfect, impaired, less effective, ineffective, or useless version of whatever the object represents. For example, a broken steering wheel in a your car could mean you're feeling less than effective at staying on track in your life right now. A broken or damaged wedding ring could mean you're feeling that your marriage is going through challenges and could use some "repair."

keys Your self-identity and personal power. Losing your keys can represent compromising yourself or giving away your personal power somehow in your life, or possibly shirking responsibility for yourself.

late Arriving late for something can mean: Whatever you are late for in the dream represents something very important to you in real life; You're neglecting a responsibility; You'd like to avoid the thing you're late for, you're dreading it, or you're afraid of failure; You're feeling passive-aggression towards an authority that is represented by whatever you're late for; You feel you have too much on your mind or on your schedule, or that you're feeling disorganized; Being late and feeling bad about it can mean you are experiencing or fearing a loss of control, or of being controlled by outside circumstances, somehow in your life.

midnight The end of one time period or beginning of a new one

Mother Your real-life mother, an authority or caretaker figure (such as your employer), or your spiritual parent (God); The idea of motherhood, motherly qualities, or parenthood in general

purple The color purple can mean a sense of royalty or distinction, fun, richness of life, or a sense of individuality and not afraid to be yourself and express yourself.

reaching for Reaching for an object or person can represent: Wanting or needing the object or person; Wanting to achieve something that object or person represents; Thoughts or intent of certain actions (kindness, aggression, etc.)—consider the intention behind the act of reaching

tree Life. A tall, healthy tree is often a symbol of a flourishing, vibrant life. Consider also what comes to mind when you think of the particular tree, and the state and setting of the tree.

window Your view of the world around you, or how you view or perceive people, events, and situations in your life.

workplace Your work or job, even if the dream workplace doesn't represent real life. The idea of working, being productive, being forced to do work, or the idea of a job in general (having or not having one, needing one, getting one)