I want to invite all who visit here to join the community of those who are Evoked by Life. My writings are designed to invite you into your own self/ soul/ life exploration and to build a community of sojourners. Add your own voice; your own Truth to this ongoing journey of discovery and revelation.

Friday, June 5, 2009

To E with Love

I have been involved in a woman's life long distance. I have met her joys; lived her anxieties; mourned her losses; understood her struggles...and... from miles away....prayed, loved and sent her light.

Now, like most of us she embarks on a new journey.

Funny how so often we pray for change, adventure, new things, and "Poof" like magic it appears. The Painted Lady at the carnival inviting us into the fun house, into a ride into the darkness where odd and sometimes bizarre images pop out. Some of us come out laughing and others come out crying. Life is like that-a concoction of joys and sorrows conjuring up an image of a laboratory with all sorts of beakers and maybe, just maybe cauldrons bubbling, boiling and wafting smoke.

The Painted Lady calls us. We think she is just a muse for the carnival. Little do we know she is the Goddess of the 'dark' taking us to those places we dare not go on our own. She willingly accompanies us when we summon her; and summon her we do when we embark on journeys into the unknown.

How do we face the unknown? We have all been taught, practices handed down from the ages to proceed toward the unknown with trepidation. Yet, when Dorothy followed the yellowbrick road to OZ and finally met the great and powerful wizard, she discovered through the help of her animal friend that the great and powerful wizard was just a simple man operating a smoke machine.

Isn't it funny how, sometimes, simple men operate smoke machines??? Just a thought.

Now, the message for Dorothy was that her truth, her home, lived within her.
"Believe in yourself, imagine your home, click your heels three times and there you will be,"
said he.

Or, for a more religious version,
After the whale spit Jonah out on the shore, the Angel of God, a Painted Lady, I believe, pointed and said, "Ninevah is that way!"

So Ms. E, your journey has begun. Put on your goddess ware: blue eyeshadow, bangle bracelets, and your tie dyes, remember to take your zills and shuffle your fip flops to Ninevah..........and while you're shuffling...Remember the Truth of Your Soul!

Birth Stories

I just renewed my involvment with the Joseph Campbell foundation. An interesting process since when I went to sign in I found out that someone named "Jjazzlady" something or other from Australia had my user name. What a surprise to discover that another half way round the world has my user name...only on the internet. But anyway, after many failed attempts, I managed to become an associate and journeyed into some posted discussions. The one I found interesting had to do with Birth Myths.

Now, for anyone who knows me, me and myth are synonymous. Life is a story. Humans are living narratives...authors of our existence (except when we let others author our lives). Yet, nonetheless, we do the writing. We star in the living drama called our life. We set the stage; find the props; call forth the other actors; write the script; direct, edit; and otherwise produce our 'realized narrative' called "My Life". Many acts to this play..or..chapters to the book....the metaphors are endless. (I personally like to jump betweeen several at one time.)

So, I responded to a discussion on birth stories as folllows:

I think birth stories, myths are the template for life, at least for my life. I have heard and lived the birth story told to me by my family...one of excitement, anticipation, and joy over my mother's delivery of me. One of no pain experienced by my mother due to the doctor's use of forcepts...and many other 'enlivening' details. This story helped me to carve out a life of being a "goddess' in process which has been a very rich and exciting life adventure.

Then I grew into adulthood and discovered cultural myths i.e. the stories told and handed down with all cultural judgments interwoven about unwed mothers, teen preganancies, adolescents having babies. My mother had just turned 19 when she delivered me...18 when she got pregnant. Wow!

I had an ah-ha moment that has lasted for many years. I have come to understand with much more depth, and I must say, at times, some anguish, the intricacies of our relationship...my mother and I...when these 2 myths met.