Keep blending into, out of earth

sister earth

ma soeur, ma semblable,
these words I read beneath this picture of a scull found by the Tower of Jericho, which is a stone  structure built around 8000 BCE in Israel.

my Fore-Sister, my Fore-Crone

In the late 1980s I went there.
Much later in 2019  I stiched this into being

This Earth: What She Is to Me
by Susan Griffin

As I go into her, she pierces my heart. As I penetrate 

further, she unveils me. When I have reached her center,

I am weeping openly. I have known her all my life, yet

she reveals stories to me, and these stories are revelations

and I am transformed. Each time I go to her I am born

like this. Her renewal washes over me endlessly, her

wounds caress me; I become aware of all that has come

between us, of the noice between us. Now my body reaches

out to her. They speak effortlessly, and I learn at no

instant does she fail me in her presence. She is as delicate

as I am, I know her sentience; I feel her pain and my own

pain comes into me, and my own pain grows large and I

grasp this pain with my hands, and I open my mouth to

this pain, I taste, I know, and I know why she goes on,

under great weight, with this great thirst, in drought, in

starvation, with intelligence in every act does she survive

disaster. This earth is my sister; I love her daily grace,

her silent daring, and how loved I am how we admire this

strength in each other, all that we have lost, all that we have suffered,

all that we know, we are stunned by this beauty, and I do not

forget what she is to me, what I am to her.

You are my sister with Antony and the Johnsons

You are my sister

And I love you

May all of your dreams come true

...

I see it come

Keep bleeding into the mystic

When all the colors bleed into one 

Love, the deadly wound from which my life slowly bleeds, there I am preserved
Birgitta Trotzig

Just beneath the thin layer of romanticizing love
a bigger You
a bigger Love
bleeding together into One

Closed off from love I didn't need the pain

Once or twice was enough and it was all in vain
Time starts to pass, before you know it, you're frozen,
But something happened for the very first time with you
My heart melts into the ground, found something true
And everyone's looking 'round thinking I'm going crazy

But I don't care what they say
I'm in love with you
They try to pull me away, but they don't know the truth
My heart's crippled by the vein I keep on closing
You cut me open and I

Keep bleeding, keep, keep bleeding love

into the mystic
into the now

into

each

other

wise

dressmaking

 

fitting out the dress for the woman downstairs...
or all around
or flowing through

InVirgination
invagination
individuation

"I cermonially undress
For she who in my dreams reveals how she longs and she cares
I take off all my clothes
For the woman downstairs
...
In my dream I lay her on a blanket
Wild berries stain the fragile dress she wears
She can have my soul and keep it
The woman downstairs

I give her my ears and my eyes
I give her my future and my past
They're both full of questions and lies
..."

And rewatching The Dressmaker who knows how to use her spelling glamor...

unpetrified horse

The decapitation of Medusa is one of the remythologized myths I have been living backbone to backbone with for more than 30 years. One of the offsprings of the decapitation was the horse Pegasus.
Here is the myth captured as a stitchling, a work of art much like an active icon, walkable, danceable ... thinkable through. 

Please note: no hero is present.

On a few occasions I have looked out over the islands below Erythrai in Turkey, home to the Erythraean Sibyl. The islands are said to be petrified horses. Today I think the freezing has been undone.

Now it is soon time to ride the horse out on green pasture. 

Art by Jake Baddeley

when she rides the wild horse

...

April is the most ... sappy month

 

Photo By: Vitaliano Bassetti

April is the most intoxicating month,
embracing both-and,
all extremes fused and dissolved into swirling dance...

the threshing floor 
coming full circle

the endbeginning

T.S Eliot:

April is the cruelest month, breeding

Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing

Memory and desire, stirring

Dull roots with spring rain.

...

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow

Out of this stony rubbish?

                                                    

Heraion, Erythrae.
Home of the Erythraean Sibyl

The key to the Love Circus of the World: the letting through into the mystic

 

"The membrane gone, the concepts gone, to be are some plain heavy stones."

but first water

first rain

and dogs

"Just outside my window I hear the late September dogs
And I understand their warning I understand their song

...
I shout to the sky please

Come on let it rain
Let it rain down on me
Let the rain touch my hands
Let the rain set me free
Let it rain down on me

... 

Silence is the steel that pierces and cuts me to the bone

...

Just inside the distance I here the late September dogs
And so I beg for sleep the child who walked before she crawled

Damn my soul that remembers and clutches to this pain

The spear in your side is me

Come on let it rain"

first water

first rain

and hope

"Let it rain
As I walk these streets unknown
To no one named
Not even myself

...

Let it go
No mother, no father, no home

...

Let it rain
let it flood these streets, wash me away

...

But give me hope
That help is coming
When I need it most

the letting out

the raining through

into the mystic

all

LOVE

is possible

"The open human: after rain. Membrane gone - everything hurts
blistering green, stinging glitter, fiery clear

burning skin.

Everything exposed, everything without mediation."

"Then magnificently we will float..."

The key to the Love Circus of the World: the letting go

 

I stepped out of the straitjacket of romanticized love and

fell

out

in

total intoxicating
LOVE undressed

NATURE
merging
surging
sap

"You can never get to much of
A wonderful thing
You're the only story that I never told
You're my dirty little secret..."

letting
out