…. Yes, My Revolution Begins in My Body …..

I had been thinking for some time that I would like to change the nature of my blogs. This wonderful short video written by the creatively erudite Eve Ensler, has come up for me this morning on social media and has given me the hefty nudge I’ve been needing!

All my life my body has needed, no…. y-e-a-r-n-e-d for a revolution, I tell you a damned great big, rooted in the fertile ground of Mother Earth, Revolution! Well, here I am at long last, ‘facing’ my body, standing in that revolutionary soil, feet first, head-on.

It’s a tragic and terrible thing to ‘awaken’ and find yourself emerging from sleepwalking through life. She, I was a ”fat little girl” who ached from the disrespect coming at me… the energetic violations of a world hell-bent on making me wrong, or at least, squashing my voice, squashing me, suffocating the screams. They weren’t actual screams you see, they were on a parr with Edvard Munch’s ‘Silent Scream’ … a scream that rips apart the fascia in the body, MY body.

Climbing trees to escape was my way. Hiding in that oak tree where no one could see me, hear me, smell me …. touch me; I didn’t want them to touch my soul. I hid in fields of tall grasses, hollow trees, dry ditches where Cuckoo Pint grew with such voracious sexual beauty that they embedded themselves in my six year old mind, to be replicated, unwittingly, in my fifties on canvas.

Arum_maculatum_0_700.jpg Cuckoo Pint growing wild in the British countryside.

DSCN1285.JPG ‘Passion Fruit’ Acrylics on Canvas circa 2005

I hadn’t realised as a child (who would?), that  I wanted to break free with the insanity of a woman who could be stoned at any given moment, the psychological pain in me was so great. The wild young thing who had rising passions … in the body in the Soul …. in my heart… passions for sounds, colours, shapes. The desperation to be dramatically daubing colour everywhere…. in my hair, you know what I mean, like people do now…. oh-bring-it-on…… I feel it brewing… damned convention, wretched polite society, that girl is still there waiting to be met…. Of course she found the Cuckoo Pint voluptuously divine in its shape and colour. Of course she recognised its significance in her own physicality…… but not in words…. it was a kinesthetic sensing and knowing. Only looking back do I see the fog, smog sticky old bog in which she tried to breathe. N.B. not being able to breathe can cause brain fog….

You could ask me, “but what happened to you in your childhood then?” and my answer could be and is….. “You will have to listen deeply. You will need ears that can permeate the impenetrable. You will only understand if you can come to the rawness of the psyche with me, where there are the bones of the bare and broken; the molten lava of Gravitas and Expansiveness of Life.”

This is where I now invite you to come on my journey with me. My amazing life of a woodman’s daughter where suddenly, smashed and grabbed at the age of fifty-eight, it all changed. In 2011 the diagnosis of colon cancer was upon my body and my heart and then ALL that follows on from that is not even circuitous, but more a direct shaken by my bones sort of story….. the story of little c. Please note, dear traveler, there is no Big C in MY life and never will be… I am bigger than it will ever be, regardless of how this all spins and weaves its way through to my transition into the next bit of my journey ……

This is the first of, who knows how many posts, exploring my body’s need to be all ‘present and correct’ just as it is!  If you’re interested or know of anyone who might relate, please share……

 

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‘Mind Lace’

‘Mind Lace’

I move my legs, the duvet tugs at them, not wanting to let go. Even my back feels the strain, resisting the pushing through to get out of bed.

I thought it was raining,
but through the slats of the blinds, there is sun and blue above the roof. Here, I notice my wonderful life is slipping past creating smoke trails in this gentle sky….Yet, as it goes, I make lace in my mind from the overwhelm of personal pain and tribulations of the world.

The thing about lace is that it’s delicate yet strong…. Before modern life took over, when it was allowed to be of natural materials, it was made by quiet hands.

Today I am making
~ ‘Mind Lace’ ~ new ways of dealing with the natural frailties of the Human condition – and for my own.

I am grateful and glad that Life is Beautiful every second of the day and night, at least somewhere in the world 💜

Bare Bones

Bare Bones

 

Uncluttered and free

baggage of lost years

dissolve back to our Mother Earth.

Songs of intricate stories

held in bones where the Ancestors dwell

are aching bones,

petrifying bones,

shattered bones,

bones of courage where the weave of stories untold

gather back the fragments of our cracked open lives.

BareBones

 

Image: Bare Bones ~ Flick Cook

17th May 2016 ~ Snailwell

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wild

Seize the day as night comes slowly
to gather and hide the Light.
Be present in your breath for
therein lies the wisdom of your Life.
Crack wide the rigid bones of your ribs
for there, nestled within that cage,
lies the cavern of your wild and glorious Love.

~ The Voice ~
Alan Rickman 1946 – 2016

I feel as if I only had you
for a brief moment,
and now,
you
have
gone.

Somewhere out in
vast mystical wasteland,
there is vibration new ~
a chocolate velvet
clustered sound ~

floating ~
suspended ~
by
light ~

you belong to many
yet to no one at all…..
nothing could be
more right…..
Enjoy the Mystery.

Red Moon Rising

Red Moon Rising

Dance in the flames of the night
Red Moon rising……
Dance till the old falls away
into the Blood Moon rust ……
Transmute the flames and rise,
rise till your Soul flies in the
face of this night and
howl, the Alchemist that you are,
till all energies are purified
in the crucible of capacious
and infinitely exquisite Love.

Thanks to http://padmabella.blogspot.co.uk/ for the photo

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