I cried my last tear yesterday -- Mary, Mary!

Feeding Baba Yaga

I am still processing the image and energy of Baba Yaga. Still reading the analysis of Dr. Estes and feeling sort of powerful, lately. There is the sort of under-current within, like the underground river that is running freely and constantly within the soul...it is the divine nature, the pure intuition, the holy spirit, the wild woman..the name is irrelevant....What is relevant is the constant flow of truth...the enthusiastic energy field that lies just underneath the surface. This is what I have been tapping into lately. I liked reading about "feeding Baba Yaga". There is much truth in that. In order for our true nature and natural joy and exuberance to grow we must feed that energy with nourishment. How do we do that? More specifically how will you (or I) feed Baba Yaga, today? Vasalisa feeds her doll little pieces of bread as she walks through the forest. It occurs to me that this is feeding the natural intuition...which is also very necessary, but differs from feeding Baba Yaga...I suppose we must feed both. As I become more aware of the doll in my pocket, of my own inner knowing, I also become more aware of Baba Yaga's insatiable hunger. She is ravenous for Joy, for new ideas, adventure, creative outlets, altruistic pursuits...and she is entirely unafraid. It seems the more we allow our intution to prevail the closer we get to our true exuberance. Which is exactly like listening to the Holy Spirit who will guide us to the Truth of God. How very interesting and exciting this concept is! So, how will I feed Baba Yaga today? Well today I will go to the final Adult Literacy Training and feed her/my need for alturistic pursuits. Then I will come home and give myself a beauty night complete with a bubble bath, manicure and pedicure to feed her/my need for feeling beautiful (I realize the Baba Yaga in the story doesnt care about physical beauty, but my Baba Yaga still does!) I also plan to continue to knit the scarf I started feeding her/my need for creativity. I Would love to hear about your plans.

RENASCENCE by Edna St. Vincent Millay

ALL I could see from where I stood Was three long mountains and a wood; I turned and looked the other way, And saw three islands in a bay. So with my eyes I traced the line Of the horizon, thin and fine, Straight around till I was come Back to where I’d started from; And all I saw from where I stood Was three long mountains and a wood. Over these things I could not see: These were the things that bounded me; And I could touch them with my hand, Almost, I thought, from where I stand. And all at once things seemed so small My breath came short, and scarce at all. But, sure, the sky is big, I said; Miles and miles above my head; So here upon my back I’ll lieAnd look my fill into the sky. And so I looked, and, after all, The sky was not so very tall. The sky, I said, must somewhere stop, And—sure enough!—I see the top! The sky, I thought, is not so grand; I ’most could touch it with my hand! And reaching up my hand to try, I screamed to feel it touch the sky. I screamed, and—lo!—Infinity Came down and settled over me; Forced back my scream into my chest, Bent back my arm upon my breast, And, pressing of the Undefined The definition on my mind, Held up before my eyes a glass Through which my shrinking sight did pass Until it seemed I must behold Immensity made manifold; Whispered to me a word whose sound Deafened the air for worlds around, And brought unmuffled to my ears The gossiping of friendly spheres, The creaking of the tented sky, The ticking of Eternity. I saw and heard and knew at last The How and Why of all things, past, And present, and forevermore. The Universe, cleft to the core, Lay open to my probing sense That, sick’ning, I would fain pluck thence But could not,—nay! But needs must suck At the great wound, and could not pluck My lips away till I had drawn All venom out.—Ah, fearful pawn! For my omniscience paid I toll In infinite remorse of soul. All sin was of my sinning, all Atoning mine, and mine the gall Of all regret. Mine was the weight Of every brooded wrong, the hate That stood behind each envious thrust, Mine every greed, mine every lust. And all the while for every grief, Each suffering, I craved relief With individual desire,— Craved all in vain! And felt fierce fire About a thousand people crawl; Perished with each,—then mourned for all! A man was starving in Capri; He moved his eyes and looked at me; I felt his gaze, I heard his moan, And knew his hunger as my own. I saw at sea a great fog bank Between two ships that struck and sank; A thousand screams the heavens smote; And every scream tore through my throat. No hurt I did not feel, no death That was not mine; mine each last breath That, crying, met an answering cry From the compassion that was I. All suffering mine, and mine its rod; Mine, pity like the pity of God. Ah, awful weight! Infinity Pressed down upon the finite Me! My anguished spirit, like a bird, Beating against my lips I heard; Yet lay the weight so close about There was no room for it without. And so beneath the weight lay I And suffered death, but could not die. Long had I lain thus, craving death, When quietly the earth beneath Gave way, and inch by inch, so great At last had grown the crushing weight, Into the earth I sank till I Full six feet under ground did lie, And sank no more,—there is no weight Can follow here, however great. From off my breast I felt it roll, And as it went my tortured soul Burst forth and fled in such a gust That all about me swirled the dust. Deep in the earth I rested now; Cool is its hand upon the brow And soft its breast beneath the head Of one who is so gladly dead. And all at once, and over all The pitying rain began to fall; I lay and heard each pattering hoof Upon my lowly, thatchèd roof, And seemed to love the sound far more Than ever I had done before. For rain it hath a friendly sound To one who’s six feet under ground; And scarce the friendly voice or face: A grave is such a quiet place. The rain, I said, is kind to come And speak to me in my new home. I would I were alive again To kiss the fingers of the rain, To drink into my eyes the shine Of every slanting silver line, To catch the freshened, fragrant breeze From drenched and dripping apple-trees. For soon the shower will be done, And then the broad face of the sun Will laugh above the rain-soaked earth Until the world with answering mirth Shakes joyously, and each round drop Rolls, twinkling, from its grass-blade top. How can I bear it; buried here, While overhead the sky grows clear And blue again after the storm? O, multi-colored, multiform, Beloved beauty over me, That I shall never, never see Again! Spring-silver, autumn-gold, That I shall never more behold! Sleeping your myriad magics through, Close-sepulchred away from you! O God, I cried, give me new birth, And put me back upon the earth! Upset each cloud’s gigantic gourd And let the heavy rain, down-poured In one big torrent, set me free, Washing my grave away from me! I ceased; and through the breathless hush That answered me, the far-off rush Of herald wings came whispering Like music down the vibrant string Of my ascending prayer, and—crash! Before the wild wind’s whistling lash The startled storm-clouds reared on high And plunged in terror down the sky, And the big rain in one black wave Fell from the sky and struck my grave. I know not how such things can be; I only know there came to me A fragrance such as never clings To aught save happy living things; A sound as of some joyous elf Singing sweet songs to please himself, And, through and over everything, A sense of glad awakening. The grass, a-tiptoe at my ear, Whispering to me I could hear; I felt the rain’s cool finger-tips Brushed tenderly across my lips, Laid gently on my sealèd sight, And all at once the heavy night Fell from my eyes and I could see,— A drenched and dripping apple-tree, A last long line of silver rain, A sky grown clear and blue again. And as I looked a quickening gust Of wind blew up to me and thrust Into my face a miracle Of orchard-breath, and with the smell,— I know not how such things can be!— I breathed my soul back into me. Ah! Up then from the ground sprang I And hailed the earth with such a cry As is not heard save from a man Who has been dead, and lives again. About the trees my arms I wound; Like one gone mad I hugged the ground; I raised my quivering arms on high; I laughed and laughed into the sky, Till at my throat a strangling sob Caught fiercely, and a great heart-throb Sent instant tears into my eyes; O God, I cried, no dark disguise Can e’er hereafter hide from me Thy radiant identity! Thou canst not move across the grass But my quick eyes will see Thee pass, Nor speak, however silently, But my hushed voice will answer Thee. I know the path that tells Thy way Through the cool eve of every day; God, I can push the grass apart And lay my finger on Thy heart! The world stands out on either side No wider than the heart is wide; Above the world is stretched the sky,— No higher than the soul is high. The heart can push the sea and land Farther away on either hand; The soul can split the sky in two, And let the face of God shine through. But East and West will pinch the heart That can not keep them pushed apart; And he whose soul is flat—the sky Will cave in on him by and by.

More Baba Yaga

BABA YAGA is here with me tonight. Here I sit, by myself, at a wine bar...drinking a fabulous glass of syrah and knowing that I have the power and the confidence to do THIS..lol...thanks, in part to the influence of my Baba Yaga. I have met Josh...the guy drinking dark beer from a wine glass ... who is dreaming of going to Belgium. I imagine I am sitting in a wine bar someplace in Italy, or France or Greece...on my own...but never alone. It's kind of a thrilling feeling. Oh I've been soooo lucky and I've travelled many places in this amazing world but I've yet to go it on my own. THAT IS COMING SOON. I think 2013 or 2014. And so, I let her run free tonight...the wild women in me...and I enjoyed an incredible evening of intellectually stimulating conversation and wine with Brian and Milton and John...we talked of poetry (Edna St. Vincent Millay's The Renascence) and the Occupy Movement and sci fi films and short films and religion and much more....we all felt, and expressed that it was like a 1920's salon and speakeasy...what a wonderful evening...and none of it would have occurred had I let Baba Yaga stay at home :)

BABA YAGA

Oh my goodness...Baba Yaga....There is so much to say about her. She is the wise old woman...the dangerous woman...the insatiable element...the dancing and ravenous spirit...the powerful woman served by not one young man on horseback but THREE...everyday!! Morning, Noon and Night!! She is the epitome of the Wild Nature..she is not beautiful by traditional standards...yet she is all powerful and capable of magic. Can we look at her and not turn away? Can we embrace her long pointed chin and warted nose and Love her for her unending spirit of freedom and wildishness? She has no desire to conform, no wish to be like the rest of the world...She knows her power and is comfortable in her skin. Her house dances with joy and exuberance twirling in the air on chicken legs! Wow what an image. I notice that I want to "tame" her a bit. I want to keep her wild and free and powerful nature, but I want to sugar coat her and make her "nicer". lol...she is not "nice"...BUT she is JUST..she is FAIR...she keeps her word. WHERE IS BABA YAGA IN YOUR LIFE? IN WHAT WAYS CAN YOU ALLOW HER TO EXIST MORE FREELY? (More to come on this)

VASALISA

Last night I read the story of Vasalisa. What struck me were the similarities to Cinderella, yet it ended with much more empowerment than Cinderella's story. Instead of being taken away by Prince Charming, Vasalisa took back her own power by listening to her intuition and responding quickly to it...through the doll in her pocket. The power in this story is of listening to our intuition. Being able to hear that voice that KNOWS and trusting it enough to respond, quickly, to what it tells us. There is much in this story about our relationship with our Mother's as well. This gives me food for thought about my relationship with my own mother. She was great at being the "Good Mother"...unconditional Love for me poured from her heart and I always knew, know now and always will know that she loved me deeply and unconditionally. She was fearful, however, and it seems to me, spent alot of time warning me about life...trying to keep me safe. I am sure that I have done that with my children as well...I do not fault her for this...we all want our children to be safe. Yet, somewhere along the way, I decided to dismiss her warnings. I suppose this was healthy for me, in many ways, and especially necessary for my individuation from her. Her fear just never set well with me and, possibly with rebellion, I decided to prove that the thing to do was to do the thing that you feared. This has gotten me into some sticky siituations but it has also made me a less fearful person than I was as a child. My Mom had a rough time in her midlife. I could write about her for hours, but I wont (at least not now). We lost her about 4 years ago. I miss her every day. She was a good Mom. Even as I began to explore the world, even as she tried to keep me safe, she always accepted me and loved me. What I love about her the most was her ease with people and her quick witted sense of humor. She was a light hearted and happy woman, before her illness. That is what I'd like to remember of her more. That is what I would like to regain in myself, more. Her playfulness and simple elegance were quite exceptional. There is much to say about Baba Yaga.... and I intend to write about that later.

THE PREDATOR

What is the manifestation of BLUEBEARD in your life? Where is the Predator in your outer world and in your inner psyche? What an amazing and incredible chapter this is about Bluebeard. It spoke to me on so many levels. First.....the naivete of the younger sister. I have been her too many times. I have known I was with a predator and I have chosen to overlook that inner knowledge in favor of the dazzle of a handsome smile. I have allowed myself to remain in destructive relationships by refusing to see the secrets behind the cellar door. Yet this does not apply merely to those things outside of ourselves, but more deeply, it applies to our own sabotage of our own freedom and creativity. How many times have I started a creative project only to abandon it as frivolous or unworthy...too many times. That is the predator in our own minds....the one who says "who do you think you are to try to do THAT...YOU can't do THAT". That is the Real Predator. The one in our mind who says "YOU do not know what your are seeing, listen to me instead." Second...The older sisters, represent that knowing...the intuition that is there and is being pushed aside by the younger sister. The younger sister, in her naivete, is in cahoots with the predator to keep KNOWLEDGE from occurring. She wants an illusion vs truth. She literally transforms, in her mind, his odd and ugly blue beard..to a thing of "elegance" and mystery and intrigue. All the while her older sisters, those in the story and those within her psyche, know better...and on some level she knows it also. Third...The brothers. This part of the story, this part of the inner working of the psyche kept me up late last night, tossing and turning, as I realized this is a part of me that I have not recognized, for a long time, if ever. The brothers are summoned by the younger sister to save her life. They arrive and charge into her chambers killing the predator and allowing her to be free from his cruel plan to mutilate her. I am beginning to recognize that it is time to summon the brothers in me to kill off the predators in my internal and external worlds, metaphorically of course, however in a very psychologically real way. I dreamt of hand guns. I have never dreamt of guns, before. Also, quite amazingly, to me, I have had several people brought into my life in the past few years who are hunters. Not something I am drawn to by any means...and I have often asked myself this past year..."Why am I drawing Hunters into my Life?"...Suddenly the answer is very clear...they were brought into my life in order that I would begin to see the Brothers in my own inner psyche. That within me is the Predator...but that ALSO within me is THE PROTECTOR. There is within each of us every aspect of this story. Once the secret is revealed do we have the courage to look upon it and to deal with it? I think the author is showing us that we do have that and that we have the resources of our older sisters (our intuition) and our brothers (our own self protection) to rely upon to give us the strength and courage to do what must be done to remain free.

WILD WOMAN

What thoughts or images are evoked in you by the term "WILD WOMAN"?

The term WILD WOMAN evokes images of women dancing before an outdoor firepit at the ocean and images of young girls, holding hands and running as fast as they can through a field of wild flowers -- and then falling down on the soft ground breathless and laughing. It evokes a feeling of Freedom. Freedom to be Female. To honor the softness and the caring nature of ourselves, our mothers, our daughters, our grandmothers and our grandaughters. To know that we know what we know is TRUE about ourselves. We were born with the gift of being women. The culture has not always supported our true feminine nature and has often, blatantly, tried to diffuse our natural vibrance and enthusiasm in an attempt to make us "calmer" and "nicer", to make us fit a mold that has been man-made. But we are not that. WE ARE FREE, WE ARE VIBRANT, WE ARE STRONG...WE ARE LOVING, LOYAL AND COURAGEOUS. LOVE IS ALL THERE IS. Somehow, it seems to me, women know this truth, have always known it and always will. Maybe that is our purpoose, as Women, to allow the beauty of that inner Priestess to reveal herself to the world and to teach love. How would you describe a present day Wild Woman? A present day Wild Woman is in tune with herself FIRST. She is willing and able to listen to that voice of intuition that has vibrated in her since she was a young girl. She is strong within herself. She is So very brave and incredibly courageoous. She will take on anyone or anything that threatens her young or her family...Yet, she is gentle. She will cry with you over your losses and she will give you all of her love if she believes it will comfort you. BUT SHE MUST BE ALLOWED FREEDOM...without Freedom she will wither and die like a Rose without water. FREEDOM to Love and to Create are the life blood of the Wild Woman.

Letting Go of the Illusion

Attachment to people has become a problem. Trying to understand the difference between loving someone and feeling attached to them is now my biggest learning experience. Can we feel Love without feeling Attachment? Can I? What is the price of attachment to those who are not open to Truth? I will attempt to answer... In a "special" relationship we feel attached to a person, place or thing...as if it is a part of us...as if we would lose our arm or leg or finger or toe...if that attachment were to end. On a deep level we do not feel whole without the object of our attachment. Which in turn sets up the failure of the "special relationship". Our ego is very invested in it...it wants us to hold onto this object...it thinks that we will be "less than" without the attachment. Oh the ego is ruthless and tries, mercilessly, to convince us that we are not worthy in and of ourselves...and that we MUST remain attached or we will not ever be Happy. THIS IS A LIE. We cannot detach from Truth. Yet, we will detach from all egoic illusions, in time. Others will not always understand, they have their own journey towards to truth. Accepting Truth for ourselves, First, is our only mission. Without that acceptance we cannot show up in Love for ourselves or for anyone else. So, the time has come for the Season to change in this part of my life. A friend that I have been attached to is choosing another path, now. A path I won't be going down because I cannot go towards the darkness, anymore, I can only choose to continue on the path towards Light. So, I am letting go...and giving the whole thing over to God where he will transform all hurt feelings into Truth. The Love is there and it is Real, but it is suffocating in the trappings of illusions, of lies, of secrets, of pervasive ego manifestations that are attempting to destroy the truth. And what is the TRUTH? The TRUTH has never changed and never will change. The LOVE IS REAL and it always will be so....it does not matter whether or not my friend and I travel together...we are each going to the same place....and, in Time, we will arrive...and in Truth we are already there. All of Life is TEMPORARY. By its very nature, every little thing and every big thing will not remain the same. Ecclesiastes 3 For everything there is a season, A time for every activity under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die. A time to plant and a time to harvest. A time to kill and a time to heal. A time to tear down and a time to build up. A time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance. A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones. A time to embrace and a time to turn away. A time to search and a time to quit searching. A time to keep and a time to throw away. A time to tear and a time to mend. A time to be quiet and a time to speak. A time to love and a time to hate. A time for war and a time for peace. I do not agree that we must go through all of the cycles in this passage, however, The priciple that it is attampting to clarify rings true and I know that my Season is changing. Letting go of my attachment will set me free to enter this new season on hope. I am excited to see what's coming up next. NAMASTE :)