Browsing Tag

sacred

Sacred Feminine, Stories, writing

Becoming Visible

May 23, 2011

“I would be safer if I was not so visible.” – Marianne Williamson

 

26763657_48558D8u_cA few years ago a blogger I admired put up a post closing down her blog.  I remember that she wrote that “the kitchen was bare.” I can relate to that.  I feel like the things I have felt comfortable writing about are all used up and the cupboards are bare.

For the past week or so I have toyed with closing down for a little while while I sort things out.  I am in the midst of doing some shapeshifting.  Even now as I type I feel raw and quiet about the things that are coming up.  I have touched on them before when I began telling you about the stories that I wanted to write and when I claimed the title of talespinner, but when I got to the edge of that place that felt dangerous and real, I froze up and stopped writing.

There is still a place in me that is scared to go there.

More than anything, I want to be real. More than anything I want to write things here that connect us through space.  The stories that are asking to be told are strange and wonderful, but I hesitate at their edges and worry that they will be too weird, too whimsical or too much – much as I worry sometimes that if I let go I will be those things – so I put down the pen.

But my delight at images like this one and the eclectic collection I am amassing on Pinterest show just how whimsical and strange and sacred my writing could be and I realize that I am only fooling myself.  I am who I am.  Forgive me if it takes a little while for me to get up the courage to show you.

xo

(I don’t know who to give credit for this image. The Pinterest link hits a dead end. If you know, please let me know and I will give credit where credit is due.)

Quotes, Sacred Feminine, totems

Thoughts on starting again.

May 8, 2011

“Because we know ourselves to be made from this earth.” – Susan Griffin 

 

white feather webWell hello there. Yes, I am here. It’s been awhile. Since I last posted I haven’t written a single word. Not one. Not even in my journal.  I am not certain what happened, but it all went inside into a strange quiet and stayed there until just this minute.

Instead of writing, I have been listening.  I’ve been listening to Debbie Rosas talk about how women can been afraid of the sensation of life flowing through them. I’ve been reading. I’ve been reading books with various explanations of the sacred; the most recent one also addressing the flow of life, but in an entirely different way.

There has been a lot going on in my head and I haven’t been feeling able to put it all together. Sacred – Feminine – Pelt – this woman says it much better than I can right now (thanks to Terri Fischer for reminding me to open this book again):

“…now we stand at the edge of this marsh and do not go closer, allow them their distance, penetrate them only with our minds, only with our hearts, because though we can advance upon the blackbird, though we may cage her, though we may torture her with our will, with the boundaries we imagine, this bird will never be ours, she may die, this minute heart stop beating, the body go cold and hard, we may tear the wings apart and cut open the body and remove what we want to see, but still this blackbird will not be ours and we will have nothing. And even if we keep her alive. Train her to stay indoors. Clip her wings. Train her to sit on our fingers. Though we feed her, and give her water, still this is not the blackbird we have captured, for the blackbird, which flies now over our heads, whose song reminds us of a flute, who migrates with the stars, who lives among reeds and rushes, threading a nest like a hammock, who lives in flocks, chattering in the grasses, this creature is free of our hands, we cannot control her, and for the creature we have tamed, the creature we keep in our house, we must make a new word. For we did not invent the blackbird, we say, we only invented her name. And we never invented ourselves, we admit…” -Susan Griffin (more here)

I feel a story brewing.

xo

emerge, Sacred Feminine, whimsy, Wild Woman

to the edge

October 10, 2010

“I don’t think most people go to the edge of anything.” – Caroline Myss

 

unfurlsmall

A little while ago I accidentally went alone to an Enchanted Palace.  When I set off in the morning on a solitary adventure, I had no idea that it would take a fairy tale to wake this sleeping beauty.

I have often been told that my expectations are too high.  When your expectations are too high you are inevitably disappointed when the reality does not live up to them.  Arriving at the palace on this day, however, I had no expectations.  I had made the decision to spend the day following whispers and as I got on the tube at Paddington Station, I noticed the poster for the exhibition at Kensington Palace.  As a notice counts as a whisper, that’s where I decided to go next.

The exhibition was absolutely charming, but all I could think as I wandered through the rooms was that I wanted more.  Bigger, more magical, more whimsical, more intriguing possibilities filled my imagination.  They had given me a fairy tale, but I wanted to add fairy dust.  I wanted to emerge from the other side with twigs in my hair and feet sore from dancing, with a whiff of spices tangled in my clothes and a faraway look in my eye.

Standing in the park afterward I realized that it’s not that my expectations are too high, it’s that my perception of the possibilities is enormous.  There, beside a lake in London, the ‘aha’ hit me: however big my belief in shining possibilities, there is the necessary knowledge of dark ones.  One thrills and the other frightens, so I have spent much of my adult life wishing for one but preparing instead for the other and ending up somewhere in the middle.  I have tried to want less fairy dust, but instead of being happier I ended up with cobwebs.

Blinders slipping, feet planted, hair tangled, I am getting closer and closer to the edge.  I can feel it coming.  Sacred and feminine have been showing themselves to me bit by bit, and I know things are changing.  I am no longer afraid of disappointment because I know that I am a grown up and that the magic is in my control.  I am no longer interested in becoming a princess or living happily ever after: I want more.

(A lot more.)

xo

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