Fall

There were no grapes on the vine. The birds got them all. It is too hot for blueberries. Besides I am not blue but the sky is, dotted with red cardinals. I blow kisses for good luck and they blow kisses back. My face is covered in black juice that stains my white shirt red.

Journey 9 - Wake Dreaming

It was a good journey--ran in to a crow perched atop a tall building, a cat jumped through a waterfall into a mossy cave, I followed-met a dragonfly that turned into a scarab. It disappeared into the piercing in my nose, and all some such. In the end, I met a few human types--not really interesting though. Still, everyone loved to dance and so we did. But it's good to be back. Dreaming.

This is a train of thought piece that I wrote on Facebook. I decided to go back and look at the symbols in the piece--kind of digging around in my head. I have to admit that this is not one of those heavily researched entries about dreams and symbols just my doing cursory investigations on the Internet. But here we go.

Rather than use Joseph Campbell's symbols for the Hero's Journey, I decided to investigate symbols of the heroine's journey. I found Maureen Murdock's work on feminine archetypes. According to Murdock, the female journey is very different from the male. Obviously. When Murdock asked Campbell, "what about the Heroine's journey?" He replied, "The heroine is the object of the hero's journey." and added, "“She doesn’t go anywhere, she’s what the Hero is journeying to.” Murdock did not like the answer and wrote her own book, which I have not read. But based the review of the book I would have to say that I agree that the role of women in the west is very conflicting. There is an absence of the realization of true power, which comes from the womb. The womb is the sanctuary of life, very much like the ocean. The fluid in the womb is the same substance as sea water. Enough said. So lets just suffice it to say that I don't have to quest for power, I have it already, which might explain Campbell's response. We don't have to go rumbling through the forest with swords and shields, women already possess the most powerful weapon of all, the womb. Anyway, on with the symbols.

The Crow: Messengers, omens of change. Crows are also very powerful tricksters with the ability to see the past, present, and future and important part of the Ifa continuum. My crow is perched atop a tall building symbolizing this phenomenon.

The Cat: I just got a calico cat. Her name is Cassie. I've wanted a Calico Cat since I was a little girl. Calico cats are described as auspicious beings. The etymology of auspicious (from auspice) is the Latin word auspex meaning diviner by birds.

The Waterfall: Water is always a symbol of cleansing and renewal. Oshun, an Ifa Orisha is symbolized by rivers and creeks (and of course waterfalls). Oshun is very kind and forgiving but she can also be a very angry goddess, although she is slow to anger. Just outside my door is a beautiful creek so Oshun is always nearby.

The Dragonfly: I found it interesting that the Dragonfly is also known as a "snake doctor". In Hoodoo, a Snake Doctor is a shaman. One entry explains that in "the Southern United States

Southern United States

The Southern United States—commonly referred to as the American South, Dixie, Down South, or simply the South—constitutes a large distinctive region in the southeastern and south-central United States...

term "snake doctor" refers to a folk belief that dragonflies follow snakes around and stitch them back together if they are injured. So the Dragonfly is a healer of ritual specialists.

The Scarab: We go to Egypt for the symbol of the Scarab. Simply put, the Scarab is a symbol of transformation. It's Hieroglyph means to come into being. The fact that it entered into my being through a piecing in my nose symbolizes that I am coming into renewed life and spirit. I am breathing transformation and becoming.

Human types: I have to admit that at times people wear me out. All the fussing and posturing is really a bore. On this journey, I found no human types worthy of mentioning.

The Dance: My first entry in the blog referred to going through the Red Door. I explained that I would be back "directly." In reality, I was meditating. The above inscription came later, after my return from my journey. At the end of the journey, the moment of renewal, I danced. Of course, I have to return to Mother Africa when investigating the symbolic meaning of dance. Dance is linked to oral history through performance. The fact that I have been creating costumes that refer to dance and masquerade is symbol enough.

I had a good day yesterday. Meditating and dancing helped free my thoughts and spirit for the challenges that lay ahead. I awoke this morning renewed and ready to take on the world.

More about Crows: http://www.shamanicjourney.com/article/6033/crow-power-animal-symbol-of-sacred-law-change

Dragonfly: http://www.newworldencyclopedia.org/entry/Dragonfly

Scarab: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dung_beetle

The Dance: http://www.africanside.com/discussions-about-africa-and-african-news/african-dance-introduction-african-dancing

Remembering "Ma"

Hattie Mae Hainesworth Marshall
August 3, 1924-February 15, 1977

My mother passed away 33 years ago today.

My father called her "puny" because of her graceful bone structure. She moved like a cat.
She was the eldest daughter of 10 children and bore the responsibility of caring for younger and older siblings, even after they were adults.
She loved children.
To know her was to know the truth (at least as she interpreted it).
She did not mince words.
Most of the time she was right.
She admonished stupidity and laziness.
"Use your common sense [your intuition]."
She picked cotton in the fields of NC and often talked about "taking the lead row." She set the pace for the rest of the workers.
Her transition upset the balance of life in our family for many, many years.
There is not a day that goes by that we do not speak of her--remember her.
She was the matriarch.
Her beauty could stop a train.

(No background music) School kids taught to praise Obama

Here's a call and response song similar to the one the children sang:
Call: Every other house on my block is up for sale. Response: GW Bush and the conservatives.
Call: I haven't been to the doctor in years because medical insurance is too high. Response: GW Bush and the conservatives.
Call: American businesses are drying up. Response: GW Bush and the conservatives.
Call: The American banking system went down the toilet. Response: GW Bush and the conservatives.
Call: We were lied to about the Iraq War, which drained our coffers. Response: GW Bush and the conservatives.
Call: It will take a miracle to dig us out of this. Response: Barack Husein Obama

Up Late Again

I should be in bed but I am not. I'm reworking my website. I painted all day, worked out, came home and got on the computer. I guess I could have continued to paint, but I was tired. Besides this needed to get done. I'm soon to bed. Yawning. Oh, here's something that I photographed not too long ago with my camera phone. It's some kind of really weird mushroom that was in the woods at Cascade Springs. Pretty though, but I wouldn't eat it.

Uneventful but full of delight

I had a very uneventful walk today. Other than the birch trees marked with a large orange X on Oakdale, nothing out of the ordinary. One time I heard a rooster crow on Lullwater. But that was in the morning. I've never heard it again. Hmmmm. It was near the same place where I found the book entitled "I Can Dance." Sometimes it's good to remember eventful things on uneventful days.

I Can Dance

After spending the past two days doing the huckabuck in my studio and crashing at a semi-reasonable hour, I awoke and went for my usual 4 mile walk. About halfway through the walk I discovered a stack of books on a trash heap. Laying on top of the stack was a little book entitled "I Can Dance." Now is that magical or what? But there's more to the story.

This incident took me back to my childhood and a very sad story but a very happy ending. When I was a little girl, I had the little girl dream of being a ballet dancer. I knew that I would have to take ballet classes. I asked my mom if I could take lessons and she replied a firm "No" and then went on to say that in order for me to take lessons I would have to go to the largest nearby town, Fayetteville, NC. Her reason: "They don't allow colored children" in the class in my own hometown, Southern Pines, NC. I was devastated. Colored meant nothing to me and I decided that I would prove to my parents that I should be allowed to take dance. So, I went to the library and found a book, just like the one that I found on the street. It was illustrated with pretty little girls doing all the ballet steps. I learned all the basic ones.

I would twirl and bow before my mom, dancing to the music that my dad played on his radio show on Sunday mornings--classical music on WEEB.

"See Ma, I can dance", I would say.

"But you still can't take dance over town and I'm not driving to Fayetteville," she would snap, obviously annoyed. I never lost the dream of being a ballerina but it became obvious after a while that I was too old to do ballet. Oh well, life has its disappointments.

However, when I was in Australia in 1994, I camped out with a group of Aboriginal women at an Oasis in the desert somewhere near the Strezlecki Track. One woman, Nora, took us deep in the bush for a ceremony that had to do with "women's business." I sat among the elders tapping rocks against rocks just as they did and felt very happy to be included in the ceremony. All of a sudden, Nora came forward and took my hand and pulled me to my feet. "Do this", she said, as she moved her feet, arms and body. I aped her moves and we danced. For a very long time, we danced.

I was overwhelmed. I later told her my ballet story and in between tears and sobs I said,"All my life, I wanted to dance ballet, a dance that is over 400 years old. But today I danced a dance that represents over 40,000 years of continuous culture. Thank you for this gift!"

By the way, I also saw a man that looked like Picasso walking down Oxford Road with his two graying dogs and another man who resembled Diego Rivera. What a morning!