After a bit of a break, I’m back at my desk with paint and torn book pages, making a beautiful mess.
Mapping The Soul-Skin is my latest series of found-word art-poems. The plan is to produce one a week for 12 weeks on a Monday. The best news it that, unlike the previous series, they will be available for immediate sale.
Women Who Run With The Wolves is the source text for the series and all the artwork is in monochrome turquoise.
It feels great to be back in the company of word fragments and a tube of glue. And as if by perfect alignment, Angus and Julia Stone have a new album as a soundtrack for the next few months of creation.
Each poem’s uniqueness is assured by the imperfection in its cut and paste design. Poems are approximately C5 sized and are on a range of paper thicknesses to achieve different effects. All are hand named and numbered.
Purchase price is $35 with $3 worldwide postage. All payments processed through PayPal.Me unless otherwise organised.
first day of spring the sound of the water jar in a world of one colour
In a world that is built on joy, mirth and pleasure (a world of one colour) laughter is heard in the movement of the natural and man-made worlds. In everything we see and do and experience.
Laughter is in the simple and every day.
Day 22 A message from your spirit guide
this deep in fall the sound of the water jar moonlight slanting
I asked for a message from my big guide, who isn’t easily contacted, to see what she might have to say.
The first part is simple. I need to continue my surrender to what’s unfolding. This isn’t always easy for me, but I do try.
The second line confounds me, but suspect it’s something to do with replenishment – listen for guidance on how to be replenished? My daily card also reminded me to accept in the possibility of love and magic always surrounding me and I wonder if this could be somehow shoe-horned into this line?
The third line – that this shadow period of intense transformation will come to an end. As the moon sets and slants it’s light, so too will this period of wandering in the dark, searching for the light, seeing my life illuminated in mystical and profound ways I never thought possible.
IDay 19 How to achieve world peace? this old village in a world of one colour the cicada’s cry
We need to move on from old thoughts, old patterns, old worn beliefs that we consider comfortable and move beyond our monochrome homogenised worlds that pit one absolute against others.
It’s time to embrace the kaleidoscope of humanity and revel in our differences, appreciate and honour them, whilst finding the commonalities that bind us together. Unity in diversity.
And we must listen to the cries of those that cut through. We must work to comfort, support and assist those in need, those in pain. Because it’s far too easy to suddenly become the displaced, the ostracised, the maligned, the hated, the ‘other’ because we allowed the distress of others to go unheeded, unheard, undefended.
We are first and foremost a single tribe. Until we work from that most basic of premises, there will always be one side against another.
Time to leave the old village behind and build a new one where everyone is welcome.
coolness of the melons this old village moonlight slanting
Left is my oracle card for the week. Right is the card I drew to try to clarify the meaning of the first (given it was the second week I pulled it in a row!) The haiku – shrug? Not sure any of it is clearer. I’m definitely missing something here.
. . .
I am seeking sweet relief (cool melon) from the tired old-trodden path. The slanted moonlight made me think of the rising moon or the setting moon. So perhaps that it’s time to be done with these old ways, these old oaths, and in doing so I’ll find sweet relief? The end of the illusion. It’s setting.
. . .
I guess perhaps I know more than I realise. The first fight for love is always within you. If I don’t think I’m worthwhile, if I don’t think I’m deserving of being nourished and cherished, loved and appreciated then how am I inviting others to meet me?
This village is old. And it’s time tomove on. Be gone before the sun rises.
I looked up the symbolism for duck – fidelity. Oh yes! Wild fidelity absolutely nails my best description of sex. Ever. Let me be untamed here.
. . .
The start of the poem describes me now. On the other side of radical healing several years ago, from sexual violence as a young woman. On learning the power of deleting and replacing old stories. Of having the guts to choose to be the author of my sexual identity (which has turned out over the years to be more potent than just being able to write a new foundation story!)
It’s the joy of finding myself in my 40’s with the girlish delight and enthusiasm of a teenager discovering and experiencing all the beauty, sensual delight, intimacy and raw power of sex in all its most positive incarnations.
. . .
Day 17 Create a poem about an animal
I keep thinking about the voices of wild ducks veiled in morning mist
With the absence of a Phoenix in the pack, I returned to the ducks, and am now thoroughly amused to find them a metaphor for sex. Enough said!
I chose to combine my daily cards with the oracle challenge.
. . .
Yes. Yes! It’s the third day I have pulled vitality. Stop thinking and act.
Today (Wednesdays as I’m late posting this) is the day I learn where I sit with my #postcardia. It’s been both pie-in-the-sky and a concrete path with a map. I’ve been caught in inertia about what happens next because I’ve had to visit a local printer for their advice on the possibility of reproducing non-reproducible work.
Haiku on point. Yes. Something new has flowered but only an inch to two.
Let’s see where to next.
. . .
Day 13 Your greatest fear
flecked with mud moonlight slanting cracking in the cold
Here is my fear of loneliness coming back to haunt me. Only I was in the darkest grip of its embrace when I pulled these cards. Like I’d sunk a bore into an artesian grief inside me and my tears refused to stop flowing. The water spiced with a persistent loneliness that stalks even in the brightest moments.
Cracked is a kind word for it. So is broken. The experience has left me raw and vulnerable. But like Demeter, who wandered her desolation crazed with grief, she was always on the cusp of the return of joy, abundance and creation.