Old Paintings, Dreams and Musings

It's 4:00 in the morning, which is always a spare, silent, beautiful and lonely hour to find oneself.  A dream woke me up.*   Long experience has taught me that trying to go back to sleep at such an hour is futile and frustrating, better to pad around the house, let the mind discover what it will.  4:00 is a potent hour.  One of the things I rambled into was the memory garden of  forgotten paintings.

The painting above I did as part of a series that just burned out of me one magical summer while I was at the (now extinct) Cummington Community in western Massachusetts.   I was reading "Shaman:  The Journey of the Wounded Healer" by Joan Halifax.  I never showed them.  They represented transformation of consciousness, with fire being the medium or symbol of transformation.   In some, the figure confronts the flame with terror, the burning away of the old self, in others there is the infant representing rebirth, new birth.  The "Fire Dancer" I love still, ecstasy, learning to dance with the fire, to "be" the fire.

And the one above, I think I called it "the Sacred Marriage" or "Anima and Animus" (but I don't actually remember what I called it) - there the woman is offered the creative fire by the man.   I don't know why I dream of weddings, or remember this painting, but both are about "joining with" and being "ignited by" something, a good sign.  Who, or what, am I about to "marry"?  

 *Strange dream.  I dreamed I was planning a second wedding to my ex-husband, Duncan.  The dream was full of the details and running around I remember from when we actually did get married in 1993, a full-blown Pagan wedding on our land in upstate New York.  Such a wonderful community of people, a beautiful gathering.   I remember also  that I was so stressed with organizing and controlling everything for the wedding that I had very  little ability to actually enjoy the wedding itself.  I was up late into that night cleaning up, and preparing a ritual for the Solstice the following morning.  I went to bed alone worrying about all that needed to be done, while Duncan hung out enjoying the company of his friends.  In retrospect, so many of the things I've done I've not been able to just enjoy, be present for, appreciate.   Duncan and I were divorced in 1997, and I haven't seen him since then.  I suppose I've always wished we could have resolved into friends, but that did not happen.

So in this dream of  a second wedding I said "This time we'll do it your way", which it seemed was a kind of apology, a recognition of having learned something in the years since.  I don't know what this dream means, except that preparing for a wedding, and giving up "the way I did things before" is a good sign.  I need to see what this dream reveals. 

I remember that I had a hard time letting go of the marriage, letting go of the dreams I had,  and the community we actually created together.  We were a good creative team in many ways.  When I left New York I went through a period of grieving, which was what I needed in order to release and to grow internally in order to go forward and create a new life.  That grieving was a kind of emptying out, and I understand the significance of allowing the grieving process.  But I remember a dream I had at that time - I was in a kind of empty apartment in some Eastern city, perhaps New York.  Just a few chairs, and a window with a night time view of the city.  Duncan turned up, and we had a warm, friendly talk in which he told me that he was with someone else now.  And after that, it was much easier to just move on. 

Invoking, Beginning, Procrastinating.....

"Gaia's Hand" (2012)

I had a dream the other night (it was rather graphic) about getting together with an unknown man with the aim of becoming pregnant.  He was quite obliging.  Weird......but I suppose, in symbolic terms, it's a good sign..........

The day  before I went into surgery in November, I received an email from Prema Dasara, who wanted to knowif  I was still interested in creating the 21 masks of Tara we had discussed in previous years - they were to be made in Bali, a collaboration with Balinese artists.  I felt very much encouraged by this synchronicity (I often  pray to Tara for healing), and said (to Prema and to Tara) that I would be most glad to do it if the results of my surgery were positive.  And so they were!


But Prema has had to cancel the project for this year.  I reflected on how many women have requested the use of the "Masks of the Goddess" Collection, which was sold at a benefit auction for the Independent Eye's production of The Descent of Inanna in 2008 (I'll write about this powerful play in the future).

Elizabeth Fuller in "The Descent of Inanna" (2008)

 So I decided, since Prema's project fell through, that I would make a new collection of 21 masks of Goddesses, which I would hold in trust for all those who wish to use them in the future.  To get the funding I'd need to buy the time and materials to make the masks a friend suggested I use Kickstarter. 

Mana Young  and Cast, Black Box Theatre, Oakland (2002)

But I seem to be having the hardest time getting myself to post and start the 7-week fundraising process. I have to feed the cat, or take a nap, or watch Poirot......my video is good, my writeup is good, my "rewards" items (what people will receive as gifts for donating to the Project) are excellent (among them, the ceramic "Gaia's Hand" Icon above.)  I guess it's like turning on the ignition and beginning a trip that will take you across the country.  Or taking that first step toward the airline check-in desk.  This might be a long trip......

The Road goes ever on and on

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Until it joins some larger way

Where many paths and errands meet.

And whither then? I cannot say.

J.R.R. Tolkien

At "The Spiral Dance" (2006) (Courtesy San Francisco Chronicle)

I guess I just have to close my eyes and take the plunge.  Synchronicities have clustered around the idea almost before I began.   Almost simultaneously, my friend Macha NightMare (Have Broom Will Travel), who I've collaborated with in the past,  proposed a first "inaugeral" performance at the Women and Mythology Conference in May.  Something very close to my heart, ideas I've been wondering and wandering about ever since I walked among the Stones in Avebury, and felt the living presence of the Springs in Avalon last summer - the Spirits of Place.   Here's Macha's Abstract:

"Ritual studies scholar Ronald Grimes suggests that relearning of ritual ways can help us re-attune to the environment at a time when the ability of our Earth to sustain our lives is imperiled.  “The surge of popular interest in the ecological possibilities of ritual is fed by a rich, publicly consumed ethnographic literature, some of which depicts rites as a primary means of being attuned to the environment.”  Artists, ecological restorationists, and composers are exploring the use of ritual to enhance our understanding of our interdependence and our responsibilities as a species to attend to maintaining of a healthy Web of Life.

  

Around the world natural phenomena and spirits of place have revealed themselves to us in anthropomorphic forms.  These encounters generated stories that were told over the ages.  Employing the use of sacred masks especially created for this event by Lauren Raine, using rhythm and chant, narrative and movement, and current scientific knowledge (physics, geology, biology, ecology, climatology, et al.), we propose a ritual performance that offers all celebrants encounters with these goddesses, as they have been known in the past and as they exist today."

She invites story/voice and ideas from others in the evolution of this piece.  I touch the violet amethyst pendant I found in an apple tree in Glastonbury, which I wear around my neck feeling very much that it was a gift from the Lady of Avalon, and try to imagine how I might tell that story..........and what voice the Desert Goddess might have as well.............Well.  Time to take the plunge, pull out the threads and start weaving, re-weaving, and spinning.

 I'll begin my journey with the only Goddess mask I still have, Flora, the Roman Goddess of flowers, and originator of May Day celebrations (at least in Rome). Florence is also my mother's name, and Flora was the name of my great grandmother.  The mask spent the past 6 months with a woman who lost her son, and wanted the mask for healing.  I'm sure she has infused the mask with the beginnings of story..........Flowers are a good place to begin, they represent beauty, and the invitation to new life.

Fertility it is, insemination, all that. As far as that dream goes.......at 62, I'm way beyond May Queen.  Sometimes I feel more akin to Miss Marple.  But Symbolic it is.

Life Between Life - Michael Newton

 I woke up at around 5:00 this morning because I heard my cell phone ringing loudly.  Not fully awake, I lumbered around looking for the darn thing.  When I finally found it, it showed no history of any call whatsoever.  So, awake now, I crawled back into bed, and picked up the book I'd been reading the previous night, which I opened to a page about how spirit guides contact their embodied students.....and I couldn't help but think, "well, if you're going to call, can you please leave a message?"  That's one "wake up call" I'll remember!

"Journey of Souls"  by Michael Newton Ph.D. has been around since the 90's, and there are several other books he's written about his many years of research as well.  Dr. Newton began as a hypnotherapist, and as he recounts, stumbled on a patient who "re-membered", from a transpersonal state, being in the spirit realm, between lives on earth.  He, and his colleagues, have since worked with hundreds of people to explore the subject, and the "between life therapy" he's developed aims to help people understand better the "soul purposes" of why they incarnated.  Now retired, Dr. Newton has founded the Michael Newton Institute, which trains practitioners in past and between life therapy.

I confess, it's a strange book, written in such a dry, academic style, that I sometimes have to laugh, considering the vastness of the subject.  But impossible to put down.  And my own "wake up call" may very well be about getting back to work...........

https://youtu.be/Vk5bSG78pbQ

Dreams of Half Dome

 

 The birds have vanished into the sky,
and now the last cloud drains away.

We sit together, the mountain and me,
until only the mountain remains.

Li Po (701-762) from The Enlightened Heart

Ansel Adams, "Half Dome and Moon"

I've been dreaming of mountains lately, of Yosemite, where I spent so many summers, climbing Half Dome, Half Dome Mountain Goddess,  who presides over the beloved valley.  Perhaps, I go there in my dreams sometimes, to see her blue in the moonlight, or white in snow, to touch her hot/cold granite face.  Here's another poem that came to mind today, thinking of mountain dreams,  by New Mexico poet Nancy Wood.



~My help is in the mountain~
 
    Where I take myself to heal
    The earthly wounds
    That people give to me.
    I find a rock with sun on it
    And a stream where the water runs gentle
    And the trees which one by one give me company
    And so I must stay for a time
    Until I have grown from the rock
    And the stream is running through me
    And I cannot tell myself from one lone tree.
    Then I will know that nothing touches me
    Nor makes me run away.
    My help is in the mountain
    That I take away with me.

    Earth cure me.  Earth receive my woe.
    Rock strengthen me.  Rock receive my weakness.
    Rain wash away my sadness.  Rain receive my doubt.
    Sun make sweet my song. 
   
      ~Nancy Wood~
from Hollering Sun (1972)

The Chronicles of Shane

For a month now, I've kept a card on my altar that a mechanic gave me when I took my car in for an oil change recently.  Below the Ford logo, it says "Shane Crist, Service Advisor".*

I doubt this would represent a sacred relic to anyone except me, least of all the young man who has the misfortune to be named after a  word for God.  But my altar is full of objects I consider  "comments" from the "Big Conversation",  which, it seems to me, is a highly  subjective business.  This card is like a Yin/Yang symbol to me, a little synchronistic nudge from the Universe to keep on working on the interior no matter chaotic the exterior life seems, to keep on becoming whole.

"Crist" represents to me the Light, the  Christ consciousness or illuminated consciousness - "enlightenment".  "Shane" represents (to me) that which is unconscious, "below", yin,  yet also part of my whole being  - "endarkenment".

As above, so below. Some people get gold statues of the Madonna for their altars, or an angel drops them a feather.  I get cards from car dealerships.  Relics happen.

I wanted to write about a dream I've been working with since December of 2009,  because, to me, it demonstrates the gift of dreams, and how synchronicities can inform us within the same sphere - I've come to call my process with it "The Chronicles of Shane".

In 2009 I had a lucid dream, and since I rarely dream, when I do,  I feel my unconscious is throwing a brick at me and I should  pay attention.  I work with dreams in Jungian terms, and thus  it's like unpeeling an onion with many skins of meaning to find a gem at the core.  This particular dream is so clearly about what Jung called the "shadow" and the "Anima/Animus" it's classic.

My dream began on a high, steep mountain road that afforded a great view of the ocean.  It seemed there were different levels of tunnels or chutes I had to go down, each time preceded by a woman who seemed very familiar.  I was frightened, but I couldn't go back.  Watching the woman go before me was somehow reassuring.  In the first tunnel I was in my car, driving straight down an impossibly steep road, and at the bottom I found myself on a ledge.  I parked my car, realizing I had to leave it there, and followed the woman to another "chute".  She jumped in and I watched her disappear.  So I closed my eyes and jumped in after her.........and found myself standing on a high ledge with a magnificent view of the blue ocean very far below.  I stood before a narrow trail head, and again observed the strange woman disappearing around the bend ahead of me.  Once again I didn't know what to do.

Then I heard numerous voices speaking to me - they were all calling me "Shane".  I couldn't understand why they were calling me this name.......until I looked down at my feet, and  realized that I was "Shane"........I was a man called Shane!  How strange!  And with that realization,  I was able to put my knapsack on my back, grab my walking stick, and began walking down the trail.  Then I woke up.

Jung believed all dreams are personally helpful.  I agree, although I also believe there are dreams that are precognitive, as well as dreams that may represent spirit contact.  This dream was, as dreams are, multi-dimensional, and I've broken it down into different components, all of which are mutually related. 

"The Animus as positive energy represents empowerment, the capacity to engage in and fight for what one wants, and the assertion of the life force.  Positive Animus energy is seldom given - it is achieved." 

First Dimension of the Dream - "The Animus":

I believe the woman going ahead of me is myself, my identity as a woman.  I had a domineering, tyrannical father, and a mother whose needs were never taken into consideration.   My first observation was that in "becoming a man" at the trail head, I was being urged to look at the need for healing (integrating is a better word) the "animus" aspect of  myself.  The road ahead, unknown as it may be, must be, and is, now empowered by  the "male" self that I have previously projected outside of myself, or  rejected as negative or corrupt.  I can no longer "give my power away" as I go forward.   Whether this happens at 30 or 80, I believe this is a significant passage women  must go through, just as men seek, at certain points in their lives, the disenfranchised, hidden or unknown "feminine" aspects of their soul life.

Second Dimension of the Dream - "Shadow":


 "Shane" sounds like "Shame", and one dimension of shadow work is dealing with unconscious, toxic shame.  To experience emotional  regret at the ways one has hurt others, or stepped outside of integrity, or made bad choices,  is a gift - because one can then consciously change,  make amends, and become a wiser, more mature human being.  Shame, however,  is a suffocating, toxic emotion that usually has nothing to do with anything real, and clouds any ability to act with clarity.  It's something imprinted on a child by society and family, and in order to emerge as a self-aware adult, the stranglehold of toxic shame has to be washed away so one can "see clearly".   Dealing with toxic shame is genuine Shadow Work, because it has so much emotional power, and resides so deeply in unconscious origins.

"Going down the trail" can now mean  consciously working with the  shame and guilt that deplete vitality and purpose - "becoming Shane/Shame" is to aquire self understanding, the ability to transmute the depleting (shadow)  energy into something positive.

Third Dimension of the Dream - "Shadow and Projection"

Jung believed that where there are intense negative reactions to someone or something, there probably is a projection of one's shadow issues lurking in the background.  "Shane" also happens to be the name of someone I have in the past intensely disliked, and this dream has invited me to examine that.

Shane was an egotistical young man who married a young woman who worked for me.  I often described him as "opportunistic", and ended up giving them, without cost,  my most profitable business,  which I had regrets about.  I've had a lifelong pattern of giving myself away, and the young man, not surprisingly, soon took full credit for everything.  My dislike of "Shane" really was hatred of my unconscious pattern of "giving my power away" that I  received from my mother. 

In "becoming Shane" in my dream, I actually was given a "shadow blessing".  Now I go down the road now taking good advantage of the opportunities that are given to me (being fully "opportunistic"), and taking deserved credit for the work I do.    In my pack are all the  qualities of self-protection I need.  In so doing, I'm able to forgive myself for poor choices in the past, and the anger I felt for "Shane" has dissipated as I take responsibility for its source in myself.

Years ago I was married to a talented artist, and after we were married he became interested in my mask business, so we became business partners as well.  We received a commission for a collection of special masks from a famous magician, and together met with him to discuss the particulars.    Our house was made so that if one came through the door, my studio was at the front of a long hall, and his studio was at the end of the hall. I was not surprised when the magician, who I admired for his stage work as well as his contribution to the Pagan community, came to visit. He waved at me as he walked down the hall to visit my ex. A day later I asked my partner why he'd come by, and he told me that he'd brought the contract to sign.So he had, and they had signed it.

But both of them had failed to notice that my name was not included on the contract.

There is a feminist dimension to this dream for me as well - one aspect of the meaning of "becoming Shane"  means not being co-opted, "giving away credit" to men because I'm a woman.  Things have changed but that issue is still present.

Fourth Dimension of the Dream - "The King"

The last dimension of this dream has been slow in coming.   I've been a great fan of Tolkien's Lord of the Rings ever since I could read.  Towards the end of the book, an indignant hobbit cries out against an usurper that the  "rightful ruler"  was the "Shane of the Shire".  So the final meaning of this name, for me, is "King" - the "King of myself".

(Actually, I learn only recently, Tolkien used the term "Thane" and not "Shane" - but since I didn't know that until last week, the meaning remains the same.)

The woman went ahead on the trail.  And now,  I am both the man, and the woman, and this integral dream affirms that I can, and should,  proceed with the means to be "the king" of my life as I go forward into the unknown territory of my 60's.  Below is the mysterious blue  ocean of the unconscious, the greater life of the soul.

I proceed  down the trail, walking stick in hand, my pack full of  useful tools on my back.  And  the high and holy view of the vast ocean below is truly magnificent.

*One more funny synchro attached to this is that somehow I've become subscribed to JET magazine.....if a friend wanted play a joke, I would imagine they'd come up with something like a subscription to "Modern Mechanic" or "Crochet Today".  But a magazine for black people? I like the magazine, but I'm definately vanilla colored.   I get it every week......so I'll just take this as a weekly affirmation.  The Chronicles of Shane.

A Spider Woman Story (not my own)

Danica Connors is a lovely woman I met while cooking in the community kitchen at Brushwood Folklore Center the summer of 2008. Brushwood is a place that hosts many summer festivals, including Sirius Rising and the former Starwood Festival. Danica was there to teach a class on herbs and flower essences - she is also a professional singer and actress living in Rhode Island.

I told her I was writing a book about the Legend of Spider Woman. When she told me the story below, I knew I was in the presence of another Spider Woman. I've met quite a few, and am pleased indeed to know they're around, helping with the weaving. So I felt like sharing her story, which I transcribed from a tape, below.

"As a child I’ve always liked spiders. I would find them in the corners of my room and say “goodnight” to them. I think the spider motif has always followed me, because the very first role I played was as Charlotte in “Charlotte’s Web”! I think Spider Woman has always been a part of my life, my friend and guide.

The most visionary experience I had occurred on my 25th birthday. At the time, I was finding it very difficult to end a relationship that had become destructive. I had a dream that I was in the house I spent my childhood summers in. In my dream, I was chasing a spider, but it was always out of my reach.

I crawled under beds, over tables….and finally the spider ran underneath the sink in the kitchen. I peeked beneath the sink, and there I saw a gorgeous web - a beautiful, illuminated web hidden away underneath, with a spider right in the middle of it! I looked closer, and I could see that different parts of the web held different experiences of my life, suspended on the web. As I watched, a strand broke off. It floated into the room and then it turned into the man I was breaking up with. I heard a woman’s voice speak then; she told me why our relationship was over, and why it needed to end.

Then my former lover walked out of the door and out of my life (in the dream). I understood that I was supposed to go back to touch the web where it had broken off. I realized I was now free to make a choice now about where to go next……and as soon as I touched the web, I woke up!

To me, this dream experience was a kind of soul release, and a birthday blessing as well. It also felt like so much more, as if Spider Woman was teaching me something about how continuity works. It was a reminder to me that the Web is under everything. I had to look under tables, under beds, and finally under the sink before I could find her.

Spider Woman always seems to come at pivotal points in my life. If she shows up with a dream or a synchronicity, I know it’s time to pay attention because something significant is going on. With that said, I have another story to tell about Her.

My husband and I moved into our apartment this past Yule. I found several beautiful spiders there and, as I always do, I welcomed them into our home. Not long afterwards, I was at the stove making cinnamon apples, and I turned around to reach for some fresh cardamom. As soon as I did, I heard what sounded like a shotgun going off! I had mistakenly turned the heat on beneath a Pyrex pot that held the apples. It shattered everywhere – except in a semi-circle close to me. My face was inches from the pot when I turned around. I was absolutely terrified with shock – and then I saw a spider, walking right across that little cleared area.

Just as loud as day, I heard a voice say: “I keep you, you keep me.” At that I burst into tears with gratitude."

Another Jungian moment.....

or, "Me and my shadow hit the trail.........."

"Everyone casts a shadow, and the less it is embodied in the individuals conscious life, the blacker and denser it is. At all counts, it forms an unconscious snag, thwarting our most well-meant intentions."

My therapist, Dr. Jeaneen Vogal, is facilitating a Jungian group this coming month, with it's central focus being Shadow work. One of the things she said to me this morning is that, by middle age and beyond, Shadow becomes persistent in it's demand for attention. What was in youth a "Freudian slip" is now a sledgehammer attempting to break through the concrete layers of your calcifying self. Why? Because as we age, perhaps the soul's need to integrate personae, for the psyche to mature into wholeness......."shadow work" becomes imperative. Jeaneen is 85; I feel very privileged indeed that she has chosen to counsel me. As sh e also said this morning, aging isn't for sissies, and you can either get acquainted with your shadows and change, or look forward to a miserable, unenlightened (or un-endarkened) old age. I'm beginning to see what she means.

To Dr. Jung, the Shadow represented the dark (un-illuminated), rejected parts of the psyche. As a mask artist, I've sometimes envisioned "shadow selves" as personae that disrupt the show my ego persona likes to think it's putting on. They are the selves that are disowned, unloved, shameful, inadequate, obtuse. As such, they also are also depositories for reservoirs of huge energy, clamoring for attention. Shadow can also be positive qualities that are repressed because of societal pressure. It's a potent workshop to make masks of Shadows, and put them on, seeing what they have to say.

"The psychological rule says that when an inner situation is not made conscious, it happens outside as fate. That is to say, when the individual remains undivided and does not become conscious of his inner opposite, the world must perforce act out the conflict and be torn into opposing halves. .....we cannot learn about ourselves if we do not learn about our Shadow: so, we are going to attract it through the mirrors of other people."

Carl Jung

I never intended this blog to be "Lauren's therapy page", but Spider Woman's path to wisdom is not always bright. The weaving is sometimes about re-weaving, patiently trying to untangle skeins and threads in order to make a new fabric.

I don't dream very much, so when I do have a memorable dream, I figure it's my unconscious doing the equivalent of throwing a brick at me. The dream below occurred around the new year, and I've been contemplating it ever since. While this blog is also not a "dream journal", I feel it's worth meditating on, because it's a classic "shadow" dream.

In my New Year dream, I was in my car confronting a descending road high on a mountain. I stopped with trepidation; finally I drove almost vertically down that very steep road, to find myself on a cliff with a magnificent view of the ocean far below. It was obvious there would be no going back up that impossible road, so I parked my car. There was a woman there, and she let me know that in order to proceed (and there was really no other alternative) we had to go down yet another intimidating chute or narrow tunnel.

The woman went before me, which was reassuring. At last, down the rabbit hole or chute I went, to find myself standing again with a view of the ocean, and a narrow trail now ahead of me. I watched the woman again go before me. But I lingered, fussing about my backpack (did I bring everything? Where did my purse go? Did I have food, a sweater?). Somehow, from having a car and purse, I had been reduced to a small backpack. There seemed to b e familiar but annoying voices jabbering at me as I fiddled with it. And they kept calling me "Shane". I realized "I" was no longer Lauren, but had become a man named Shane.

Finally, tired of the inertia, I stopped fussing, put the small pack on my back , found I had a walking stick in my hand, and set my feet on the first step toward the path ahead. Then I woke up.

Dreams, of course, are multidimensional in their meanings. To keep descending into the underground is archetypal. The woman going ahead of me can be previous selves. Exchanging my car and personal assets....on this trip, one has no choice but to travel light, and there is no surety that what one needs for comfort will be available.

That the "I" of the dreamer ceased to be Lauren and became a man called "Shane" was the mysterious aspect of this dream. I looked up the name and was delighted to learn it was an Irish rendering of John, meaning, "God is Gracious", or simply, "Grace" . I assumed it meant that as I processed on the path unknown, I would be given grace.

Which is true. But as dreams are multi-dimensional, there was another side it took me a while to examine. Shadows, after all, don't reveal themselves easily.

Because of my abusive father, I have never really felt at ease with the masculine. I think for many women who've grown up with tyrannical fathers it's so. The "Shane" I have become in the dream could be my "animus", the male self I need to be as I proceed down this new trail. "Masculine" can mean many things. If the woman I used to be when I took former "leaps of faith" valued being receptive, psychic, instinctual and intuitive, perhaps the "male" self means being, now, also discerning, analytical, assertive, and, most importantly, self-protective.

After a while, I also began to allow that the only "Shane" I know is someone I intensely dislike. An opportunistic young egotist who has profited greatly by taking credit for my ideas and work, which I imagine he does with any generous or talented person he encounters. None the less, my aversion is out of all proportion. When one encounters something like that, it's sure to be a shadow lurking in the recess. It took me longer to realize that "Shane" represents all the people I've "given myself away" to.......because I never thought I was worth much, or because my mother, trapped in a harsh marriage, taught us to be "selfless" without an appropriate instinct for self-preservation. I complain about the exploitative "Shanes" in my life, and yet I have reached the point of (uncomfortable) self-awareness where I can no longer render over responsibililty and personal power in order to see myself as an "innocent victim" - what I complain about I create. When you actually see that phenomenon in process, it can really piss you off.

The path ahead now requires simplifying to what is necessary and no more, and bringing to awareness, indeed recognizing that I am, my "shadow self". I can no longer get away with projecting it outside of me. I don't know where the trail ahead goes......but, on top of that mountain with the ocean far below, the view it affords is magnificent.

All of which, ultimately, is Grace.

"Most of us encounter our own shadows in the form of projection. That is to say, we disown the characteristics and behaviors we cannot stand about ourselves and project them onto others. We then insist that they carry our shadow for us and may even punish them for the things we hate about ourselves. One example of this might be a minister who openly despises gays while privately engaging in closeted homosexual activity. Those who can not accept their shadow will reject it in favor of embracing their Persona. The persona is the idealized image we present of who we really are. And still ... The Shadow Knows when we are lying to ourselves and those around us. The shadow contains our every fear, our every terror, it knows our every truth -- especially the ones we can't stand to face about ourselves."

spiritualemergency.blogspot.com/2006/07/proce

(Black) Butterflies

who is arguing with the storm
passing over oxen in a field
not me just a butterfly
whose eyes blind my shabby self


"Old Pajamas", 2010

"The Ancient Greek word for “butterfly” is “psuché/psyché”(ψυχή, 1st.declension) which is used in the meaning of ‘butterfly’/ ‘moth’ by Aristotle and Theophrastus, though its usual meanings are breath, spirit, life, soul, departed spirit, ghost, living being, person.  The butterfly was a symbol of the soul, because it changes from caterpillar to a beautiful winged creature. Plus it has a shape of a double ax which was an Minoan  symbol of the Great Goddess. Greek paintings often showed a small butterfly - "soul" - flying free from the mouth of the dead............Yahoo Answers.com

I think this is going to be a wandering/wondering post, because what I'm trying to approach with my capture net of words is the magical butterfly, a black one at that, a creature that clearly exists on such an elusive multitude of dimensions and metaphors........that it's impossible to consider her mysterious flight without a "holographic" approach. Butterfly is a creature that flies right into the Dreamtime as she so chooses. So, I'll begin by slipping, momentarily and gratefully, back into mythic time and mythic place, the life-renewing, fluid land of the Fey, the imaginal** (!!!).......for any hour I can spare.

I recently had energy work with a healer. With eyes closed, lying on a table, she did something similar to Reiki, running energy, helping me to connect with different areas of the "subtle body" that are blocked. Within this holistic approach, mind is viewed as being not only in the cranium. We perceive through at least 7 or more different "brains" - energy centers, symbolized by the Chakras, which represent different ways of receiving, experiencing, perceiving, responding to, and expressing consciousness. For example, the Base Chakra, identified with the color Red, is about physicality, the interface with nature and the planet; the Heart Chakra, Green, is associated with the ability to love and experience com-passion; the "Third Eye" Chakra, violet, is associated with psychic perception and visioning.

In energy medicine, practitioners help patients achieve integration between the chakras, the different "brains". Much of the work is surprisingly psychological, and is often concerned with helping clients to identify emotional "blockages", accessing, while in an altered state, old traumas, environmental issues, or erroneous belief systems that have caused an individual to close the heart or the doors of perception.

I had a vivid vision throughout this energy work of butterfly wings (not butterflies, just wings)...........folding, unfolding, before my closed eyes. I cannot help but feel that this was a kind of Grace, the wings offered were, perhaps, mine.

The butterfly has much significance to me, as personal archetype, and a sometimes visitor from the angelic realms, fulfilling the angelic role of messenger. Of course, I'm not alone in this. I've spoken with many people over the years who have had mystical Butterfly stories, among them my friend Fahrusha (her name, in Arabic, actually means Butterfly), who recounts an amazing synchronicity with a black butterfly in her blog.


Out of curiousity, I looked up "Black Butterfly" on Amazon.com recently, and was stunned to find there were 27 books with that title. I think a black butterfly is about the transformation that happens when the Shadow, in Jungian terms, is also given wings, transmuted.

I have met many people who have told me about butterflies appearing in connection with the loss of a loved one, or at times of personal despair. I list below a site that is devoted exclusively to "miraculous butterfly experiences". **To me, and I'm no psyche-ologist .....but to me, butterflies wonderfully participate in the interface between dream and waking life, flickering on the wings of synchronicity with their multi-dimensional messages, disappearing into the field of dreams just as mysteriously. A "Butterfly Experience" can be utterly intimate in the meanings they bear, and equally, universal and impersonal. For me, dealing as I have been for years now with therapy, and caretaking my mother and brother.........there is great personal meaning in my vision, meaning that has to do with karma, long patterns of family dysfunction, the work of emotional and psychic transformation.

Perhaps the most dramatic "butterfly experience" I had occured 10 years ago. Since this experience had to do with both dream and synchronicity, I don't know if I can tell it very cohesively, but I'll try.

It began with a disturbing dream. I dreamed I was on a ship, and on the deck many people sat in deck chairs, all of them playing with masks, taking them on and off. I seemed, in the dream, to be two people at once. I knew that there was, down in the lower decks of the boat, a demon. One of the women that I was was a kind of priestess or missionary - she was about to descend into the depths of the boat, where the demon below would torture and kill her. She thought that if she did so, offering herself as sacrificial victim, she could save the people above.

The other "me" was a cynical observer who thought she was a ridiculous martyr, and knew everyone, especially her, was doomed. I woke up as the "martyr self" began her descent.

Without going into the many circumstantial and psychological meanings of this important dream, I'll skip ahead in real time. About 6 months after having this dream, I actually found myself, with a lot of actors, and a few masks, on an old decommissioned ocean liner (the "art ship"), which was anchored in the industrial harbor of Oakland. I was acting in a movie, and the writer and director of the film, Antero Alli, had decided to do his filming in the very bottom of this 5 level boat; the old, cold, dark, dank, cargo bay.

Descending into the bottom of the boat brought my dream back vividly, and every superstitious notion of prophetic dreams I ever had came right to the fore. I didn't like it there! Between shoots, the cast hung out in what must have once been the crew's cafeteria - located in a middle deck, it had round portholes, all of which were closed because it was a cold day in March. As we waited, the Director offered everyone a card from his own fascinating deck of oracular cards (with his artist wife, Sylvie Alli), and there was lively interest as each person contemplated his or her card.

I took a card from Antero with trepidation, and sure enough, damn if it wasn't the "DEATH" card.  Not five minutes later, as I stood with the card of doom in hand, a small orange butterfly landed on my shoulder.

There was absolutely no explanation for how that butterfly could have gotten into that closed room. I had lots of witnesses - and after the miracle revealed itself, several of them helped to catch the butterfly and get it upstairs where it could be released.

As a kind of synchronistic post-script, in 2005 I was back in the Bay Area for a two-person show (with Rye Hudak) at Turn of the Century Gallery, in Berkeley. I was surprised that, of all the works in the show, the gallery owner chose to put on the card announcing the show the one above, "The Butterfly Woman". When I came to hang the show, I went to nearby Cafe Trieste for a cup of coffee. Two stacks of cards were on the table there, side by side.

One was the card for my show with the image above. The flyer next to it was an announcement of the premiere of a new movie by Antero Alli called "The Greater Circulation" (a gorgeous film inspired by the life of poet Rainier Maria Rilke). The image on his announcement was a face encased in a skull - a Death's Head.  Antero and I have never really conversed much, but perhaps we participated in a "mythic conversation".  Archetypes have their own kind of communicative intelligence.........

***"The caterpillar spins or weaves the cocoon, and in that cocoon, what the caterpillar is creating is his own tomb. We don’t know if he knows that or not. And he crawls into it, and his body liquefies. Complete disintegration of caterpillar. But in that caterpillar soup are these cells that have been in the caterpillar’s body all along, called imaginal cells. Isn’t that a fabulous word? Imaginal cells. It’s called imaginal by botanists because the adult form of that creature, the butterfly, is called imago. So these are imaginal cells, but to me those cells are ‘imagining’ flight. And these imaginal cells know how to take the soup and reconfigure that into a butterfly, an adult. I believe nature has designed us humans to go through a similar experience."

 from  "Imagine your Imago - Liberating the Imaginal Cells of the Human Psyche"   
by Bill Plotkin

THE BLACK BUTTERFLIES

by Frank Polite

The black butterflies of night
Clipped for sleep to nightshade and widowgrief,
Or in shaking luminous flight
On paired and silver wings, are rare,
And rarely seen by human sight.

Yet, they are there, surfacing
Out of range of neons and streetlights,
Preferring underleaf
And the dark offshores of air
To man and moth-maddening glare of things.
Tonight, As crisis after crisis
Cracks our skies like lightning,
I think of death,
Of different ways of dying,
And of Egypt and the myth
That once held black butterflies
Sacred to Isis.

They lived forever in flight
In her private groves, compelled like
Flickering minutes
Never to touch leaf nor stone,
Never to rest, except upon her nakedness
When she turned to love.
And here is death to be envied;
To be crushed to a personal breast
Between goddess
And whatever bird, beast, lover
Fell to her lips.
We are something else. . .

Myth and love will miss us
When the night is suddenly turned on,
Turned blank white,
And the black butterflies

Appear against that vellum sky
As far, flitting, burnt-out stars.