2 September 2013

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

WEEK FOUR. conversation by clair and Patricio

"..What can be seen  in the dark can not necessarily be seen in daylight. " Clarissa pinkola estes
~ ~ ~
where is my mind now?  it has been months, nearly a year since i have written on these pages.  lots has changed, different trees blow in different climates. 
i found some kind of love. he was a very special flower.  but in times of turbulant winds.  inside him. inside his life.  he blew half my petals off. while, like a magician, stoking the other half.  but with only half my petals, and no sign of them being able to grow back soon, i had had had to leave my love.  and so now i grow back my petals in yet another land. 

how attracted to dark and how attracted i am to light would be hard to say.  i have these little demons in me who love some dark lushous deep to swim about in.  its my imagination.  my imagination loves creativity.  but what it likes to get its little mits on brings me very close to someone elses locura - madness. and then i am in danger, again, of having my petals stripped down and falling down they will!

There is no creation without darkness, Clair, and love born of the encounter of light and shadow. Our petals are falling because they have to be renewed cyclically. Light and shadow, life and death, the beginning and end without end ...
From the darkness, from the madness, yes, Clair, you're the night, but you glow, naked, stripped of your petals.

mmm....reminds me of a story ive just read within the book that this poetry line is taken.  the story is called 'skeleton women'.  its about the 'death-life-death' paradigm...

...that we are stilted from allowing the natrual death of something for the fear and distrust  (and conditioning) that life can and surely will not grow out of deaths space. we are conditioned to believe in' life-death'.  and not 'life-death-life'.

the paradyme the author is suggesting is this more nurturing is life-death-life one.  when i think about it i am thinking about all the little deaths (rather than the absolute) - a job coming to an end. a film finishing... or a relationship.  

anyway, in the story, the old skeleton of a women pushed into the sea years before, is hicked up by a lonely nighttime fisherman.  when the fisherman felt the wieght on the end of his rod he knew his luck was in.  but when he hauld in his catch, what was on the end, was her skeleton remains.  and he got so scared that he rowed as fast as he could all the way back to the shore, but she remained attached the whole time bobbing along after him and when he got to the shore she was still attached to his rod and she followed him though the night and so scared he was that he ran staight on home and settled himself by the comfort of the fire.  and as he opened his eyes he saw skeleton women in a differnt light gracefully stretched on his floor, and he gently covered her up with an animal skin and dressed her cold fishy hands in mittens. and cared for her like this until she came alive.  an there it was.  our example of life-death-life.  i liked that story and will read it to my parents when they come to visit me.  mum will find it hard but then she will get used to it. ;)

Beautiful story, Clair, your parents will love.
But this story is also mine: as you know, my wife died only 16 months ago, after suffering for years from a painful illness. Days before the fatal outcome, when I knew that his end was near, I noticed that part of me was running out with her, no return ... However, when I threw the ashes into the sea, the feeling was very different: suddenly felt like I had released an animal that had long been caged. I saw her spread in the blue sea, above the foam, imperishable, like our love ...

yes patricio, amasing..how our emotions accommodate our life, give it shelter, run along with us,  making  life colourful, keeping it alive, bringing in its little rucksack - that lovely stuff called meaning, and if healthy and unstunted and free, our emotions will adapt....change....evolve....and provide a  new structure to live our life again....................and again.............................................and again..................................................and if necessary..........................................................................................................................................again.

i love, with an open and welcoming heart, that deep renched grieving....perging....streaming, it is most most most welcome in my red hearts' house.   it is the only vehicle that can move us, with any efficiancy - when we have suffered a deep loss,  over time, to a new space and one capable of growing new fruit, on newly planted trees and those trees, being sustaining for the winter, spring, summer and autumns of life.

they are almost very cool.

I agree with you, Clair. After the death of my wife, I put my bike in the car and backpack and made a long journey of atonement. One day I climbed to the top of a mountain, on my bike, loaded with my backpack. I lived for three days in a cabin, which had been a refuge for goats. I never saw such beautiful sunrises and sunsets, as purifiers ... When I went down to continue my journey, my backpack was lighter.

In this beautiful way of life is learning, also learned the pain, of course .... because life is pain ... and a disease ... And if there is no pain, how will we know where the disease occurs we be alive? ... If you do not locate the disease, we can not overcome ... there will be no greening.


 mmm..there are some interesting sentiments here - possibly helped my english not being your first language...
"there will be no greening".  i think it sais it all.  where is your coat of fresh new leaves for it is spring?  where is your offer to the land, as it is autumn, of all that has tickled your fancy during the summer?  where is your changing of colour? where is your nakedness when winter draws near.

these are the questions by feeling body is asking (and beginning to feel like shouting : to the people, to my lover, to the suitor, to my brother, when,  forthcoming never seems to comes forth ......

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