hag stoned virginized

 

In Samos, Grecce.
The other day I walked to the Heraion, the temple dedicated to the goddess Hera. On the way I found a hag stone, took it to the river mouth of Imbrasos. In ancient times the river had the epithet Parthenios (of the maiden), because Hera was said to have been born on its bank under a lygos tree. Every year the Tonaia (tight pulling) festival was celebrated in her honor. During the rituals, her cult statue was carried to the beach for purification and sweet offerings were placed in front of it. I bought a cinnamon bun in the local bakery and swallowed it almost whole and left the hag stone for a never-ending renewal...

Hag stoned

Of course:

What you DO, know much more than what you think. When I finished my paid work in July last year, in order to get into REAL work, I started walking a lot along the beach and often took stones with natural holes home with me. Some of them eventually became a ceiling decoration and some I wear around my neck.

Yesterday, this info fluttered past: According to Celtic tradition, stones with naturally made holes are called Hag stones, Holey stones or Witch stones. They are consideres powerful protective talismans.

Of course:

The collection of perforated stones is an obvious DOING, now that I have entered my crone-logical age.

And I re-member:

    We are the myths. We are the Amazons, the Furies, the witches.
We have never not been here...
    There is something utterly familiar about us.
    We have been ourselves before.
                                                        Robin Morgan

And I remember reading:

The Hagazussa, the witch who, in the Middle Ages, was said to sit on the hag, or fence, which was built behind the gardens and seperated the village from the wilderness.

Do read:

And I dance listen:

You got to pick up every stitch
The rabbits run in the ditch

Oh no, must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch, yeah

abjectal interbeing

A kind of librarian spell from 2015. An unintended achievement: I managed to attach the word INTERBEING on the computer screen so the word floated across the library catalog, my blogg and ended up in the strait between Helsingborg and Helsingör.

I had been looking into, bending open the wor(l)d INTERBEING since it corresponds well with my favorite word; the ABJECT, that I read as a rejection of the subject's enclosure and the object's still life (nature morte)... the abject, the unifying splitting...

Thich Nhat Hanh, a vietnamese Zen buddhist monk uses the word INTERBEING as an approximation of the vietnamese tiep hien. It means to be in touch with the reality of the world while continuing on the Buddha's path of enlightenment, to realize and make real in the here-and-now world.

That the word ended up in a map of the strait, Öresund and Helsingborg where I was born, made me associate to this quote by Jeanette Winterson:

On the day I was born I became the visible corner of a folded map.

The screen hopping word could be seen as a sign and I jumped further with the philosophizing geographer Gunnar Olsson and his book Abysmal: A Critique of cartographic reason:

"The sign is a map, a weaving together of picture and narrative, a power-filled statement which tells me both where I am and where I should go, indicative and imperative in the same breath. Squeezed into its own minimum the map is a double fold, verb turned to noun, noun to verb... and in my understanding the most forbidden of everything forbidden is that which refuses to be categorized, that which is neither this nor that, ungraspable forces which do not sit still but hop capriciously about. Aristoteles consequently knew what he did, when he between the two concepts of identity and difference inserted a third position called 'the excluded middle', a non-bridgeable gap which in the same figure unites and separates, liberates and imprisons, an unruly space located beyond the realm of conventional reason; a no man's land of liminality which the well behaved must never enter..."

Rethinking this today and since I am not well behaved, I did and do somersaults in the gap, in the abject, in the interbeing, in the included middle, mapping "IT" in-and-out, and folding myself into another corner of a map, by another strait where I was born, Mycale, and where I will be going very soon...

Images Julie Morstad

bio logos uppåt väggarna

 

Den centrala stygnade utsagan, Bios, stygnade jag fram efter ett besök i de stora gudarnas helgedom på den grekiska ön Samothrake 2008.

bio logos

talrummet

öppet

språkande

zoe

Károly Kerényi: "Zoe är tråden på vilken varje enskild bios är uppträdd som en pärla, och som, i motsats till bios, bara kan uppfattas som oändlig", som "oändligt liv."

Den där oändliga tråden - zoe, ett liv som finns i oss men som inte bär vårt namn... 
Den där fjärde osynliga tråden som löper genom mina stygnlingar: genom twiststygnets trefacetterade “pärla”, genom twiststygnets treledade framkallningskärl...

open to the world
open to spirit
open to the changing wind
open to touch
open to nature
open to the world within
...
open Beloved to you

solstånds dans

 

...Baubo...
...Uzume...

sekretiser...ande...dans

dropp trådar
fram
glidande flöde
träder

solsystem
yttre och inre
nedan och ovan

åter

står

åter

slår

...Uzume...
...Baubo...
kropp...i...kropp

Baubo och Uzume. Myt-ord.

På grekisk jord irrar Demeter, växandets gudinna, förtvivlat rasande omkring och letar efter sin dotter Persephone som bortrövats av Hades, underjordens härskare. Hennes sorg får allt att vissna ner, all lust lämnar djur och människor,  floderna sinar... Tills Demeter träffar på den dansande Baubo som lyfter på kjolarna och framvisar sitt plutande, pladdrande kön. Demeter kan inte låta bli att skratta och i skrattets efterdyningar rinner livet till igen, marken grönskar och i floderna strömmar vattnet.

I en japansk grotta har Amaterasu, solgudinnan, vänt världen ryggen i besinningslös vrede över att hennes yngre syster blivit våldtagen. För att förhindra jordens undergång uppfinner haggan Uzume dansen och musiken. Sen dansar hon av sig klädesplagg efter klädesplagg tills det svettglänsande könet är dansens nav. Alla de andra gudomligheterna börjar skratta. Skratten får Amaterasu att vända sitt lysande ansikte mot grottans öppning och solens strålar återuppväcker livet.

Baubo och Uzume, de dubbelmunniga. De som skapar inkarnerade ord. Köttar till abstraktioner. Samklangar människanatur. Och vet hur en drar en vals ...

av Mary Beth Edelson

Here comes the Sun, Richie Havens

Belysande Svart Sol

Rakt ner i tomrummet 

Om du inte bär friheten 
likt syre

i ditt blodsystem
ska du aldrig störta
huvudstupa

likt en lodrät ljusstråle

rakt ner i tomrummet.

Låt dig sjunka rakt ner i botten
till dess svartaste innersta kärna,
- och där, med en enda tår,
är du plötsligt ljus
och genomlyser allt.

                                    Blaga Dimitrovas (1977)

svartsols skörd

jordmoderben

Sol Niger

"Oh black honey is in my soul... deep inside my soul."
                                                                            Graham Parker

"Beyond a certain point there is no return. This point has to be reached."
                                                                                                Franz Kafka

 

Finally head in head with Medusa

 

Today totally unexpected, I ran across "my" Medusa head. Of course Medusa has got a lot of heads, at least nine. And they always grow back again if someone would chop one off.

In the late 1980s I came head to head with one of Medusas decapitated heads in The Basilica Cistern in Istanbul. 

We have been in contact ever since. Our communication has been difficult. That head speaks in so many archaic languages and dialects and mostly in oracles. At least I have managed to stitch her some kind of body, which she is enjoying. But we never merged, we never became head in head. We remained  in a head to head relationship.

But with this freshly found head of Medusa it is different. It is a perfect match. We are from the same soil. We speak the same mother tongue. This stony Medusa head screwed itself straight into my head, into the place that had been waiting for it, onto my long prepared body. We are now head in head.

Together we have four mouths, four noses and our four tongues meander together into a Gordian knot. And we look outwards and inwards through each other's eyes. It is simply a case of stone love, unpetrified and in rocky flow.

Stone Love, Ruthie Foster

Just look around you, see that love is winning the fight
You need a stone love
Nothings' gonna move you
Nothings' gonna break up a
Stone love