CHAPTER FIVE  - inspiration taken from  'women who run with the wolves' by clarrisa estes.

WEEK ONE. conversation by clair and asami

"they know instictively when things must die and when things must live; they know how to walk away, they know how to stay..." Clarissa pinkola estes

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if there is 'knowing' then it is covered up by a thousand grains of dust, and a million pennies, a heavy and large scoop of conditioning and iced with anit-freedom ways of thinking.

now i belive that my 'education'  was counter- intuitive.   there is a lot of what i consider to be madness, around.  and its clothed up as sanitiy....  and as normality.  

i just want to take this opportunity to say, that although i might seem very small.  and a bit of a poor speller or what ever.  i see it all.  all the 'systems' that have tried to oppress me, (and have done a good job).   some of them have even come from a very loving source.  but this loving source was itself a little mis-guided and thus guided the wrong direction - a counter-intuitive direction.  

i love you all.  its not your fault.  the misguidance has come from graves of other graves and of the living which came before them and goes back as far as the sea.


and to follow my intuition now, seems to sometimes displease other people and/or the society around me, because to go with my own intuition and learning, is to go my own way.  and leave that other stuff alone.


but horrrrrraaaaaahhhhhhh! there needs to be some independent thought and some small tides of revolution..........!

clair

And the sea….where we all came from.   When we let ourselves go with the lull of the tides, the ebbs and flows of the life, we discover what we are really meant to be.  

It is not about knowing but about unknowing, feeling the unknown guides us to the source, the mother of all that are with us now and have ever been with us all this time…

I squat on the beach, looking at the space between my legs.  

The water in me merges with the water of the earth.  

The pleasure melts into the rhythm of the tide.  

When did we learn to forget about such a simple joy? 

Learn to confine ourselves in the cubicles of civilisation? 

I, here now, sitting at the table in my living room, fantasising the rendezvous with the sea 

When it is only 10 min bicycle ride…

The joy became often what we imagine…

So I say, standing up, leaving my books behind, to see the grey sky merges into the rippling dark blue.  

 i am very thirsty now, your writing makes me pour the water into my glass more carefully, its going in me but if i poured it, instead into the sea, it would start waving.

water takes on what it becomes part of...it becomes asami, it becomes me, it becomes a wave in the sea.

have you read Emoto's 'hidden messages in water'.... that living water, (though our chorinated water is not alive) but real living flowing water, which you collect from a spring, when frozen, makes ice crystal shapes to match the emotional temperature surrounding it....exposed to love.....it looks like this*.....expossed to dislike....it forms different shapes and crystals....more dark, more oppressed, less aesthetically beautiful.....

i am sad now, that the water in my glass, though capable of giving life, is so dead.  our cleaning process, kills it... a paradox .....

clair

and the rain…i suppose.  

i never had a summer that rained so much as this year.  

i like it because this summer does not resemble any other.   

That gives me assurance.   

For what ? To be able to start it anew.   

  

why is that we like to compare and we are drawn to similarities and resemblances? 

no two waves are the same and nor the crystal shapes in the water….

still I can hear the faint echoes in the background

the foot steps of travelling ghosts running after me… 

I don't live with any this year, which makes me happy, and hope to live like this forever… 

how are you today?  hope you are not so sad about the water in your glass…. 

yes, things feel special when they are different, and in this way you feel, free of 'ghosts'....mmm, thinking in this way, i am not free of ghosts....they seem not driven away by differnce or washed away by rain, but i take your reasoning... in some way my ghosts are okay and welcome, if they need to be here, and they'll leave, i guess, when they are free....

i am sad by many things of our world, our water supply being one - that our waste is not put back into the ground where it could nourish but into the seas where it can only pollute, and, as i say, gets so harshly treated - all our water - whether it has just run down the sink after a bath or washing up, is treated in the same way.... but this sadness is not new, and i try to live beside and not under any bad decisions or treatment made for this earth....so no, just a passing feeling and a     l o  n   g    i     n      g     for fresh, clean alive water brought down to a spring....and capable of feeling and ice crystals! *

the pollution of the air clouds the air and 

the tears of the earth wet her hair 

they nourish her skin and cleanse her mind 

with your tears, the water in the glass must form crystals 

after a week of rather lethargy and frustration 

i rediscovered appreciation and gratitude today 

i came back from a day in lewes and found them on the kitchen counter.  

a bunch of Eustoma i bought on sat turned their pale green heads into purple. 

the magic of nature sparkled in my head and taught me what i sometimes forget to do 

to appreciate the beauty and richness of life and how lucky i am to meet amazing people

like you and like my other friends 

its always the little things... <3

thank you asami,

clair