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

The key to the Love Circus of the World: Love came here

 

There is no end to this story
No final tragedy or glory
Love came here and never left

Now that my heart is open
It can't be closed or broken
Love came here and never left

The key to the Love Circus of the World

 

John Bauer, The three Norns and the key

Around the middle of the 1980's I stepped out of the straitjacket of romanticized love and one-dimensional thinking, questionmarking big words: Love? Woman? WorldWord?

A turn of the key
And the door is pushed open, now...
What I wanted was love
Not an imitation
We're heading for a fall...

And you do get what you QUESTion.

And you do fall into and through the mark.

The way of love is not a subtle argument.
The door there is devastation.
Birds make great sky-circles
of their freedom.

How do they learn it?
They fall, and falling,
they are given wings.

                                Rumi

And I fell.

I fell from a great height
Scrambling with myth and light
Surrendered to a dream
That was absolutely right

Children of unknown generation

Refusing to be buried alive
...
But at least our souls have never been sold