What force, what power, might be ushered in to rectify the damage of old limiting beliefs?*
At first I thought: movement, dynamism, light. Wheels and lightening.
But this is what came and it interests me more than the elemental first take. Here I find: mentorship, a path laid out by others, ritual. We see the moment BEFORE flight. A controlled relationship with a wild and fierce creature of the sky is depicted. There is wonder and delight. Mystery.
I am the student and the teacher. I am the raptor and the tether-holder. I am the arms and the wings uplifted as well as the stones lying flat, secured by grass roots and gravel.
Perhaps even the tether and raptor hood (not shown) are part of becoming free? If used in service of flight? In service of relationship to that which is wild?
Who is the hooded figure in the lower left and what’s with that ball of light? What did the boy do to invite it in? (It’s the sun setting over Assisi, double exposed, but still… )
I take my collage to mean getting unstuck and banishing my lack of faith with support, with tried and true tools, by putting one foot after another on a traveled path.
Writing a novel is like going out to sea, alone. I think Natalie Goldberg said that.
So the idea of walking a well-tended path, where help shows up now and then is revolutionary.
Below are a few digital responses. My printer isn’t cooperating, so they may not make it to glue and page.
I just turned off Jay Sekulow. There is only so much I can take (hood?)
Prompt #20 in full:
Let’s suppose a thought held by many has been powerful enough to jettison The Occupant once and for all. Why stop there? Why not just assume that for the duration of responding to this prompt you’re Empress of Everything.
What will you usher in to begin to rectify the damage incurred by the agent of destruction you’ve banished?
*
See also my Flickr album. SoulCollage and the tags here on the blog
In particular: lack of faith in personal good outcomes. A train wreck is one of those things: ordinary and yet tragic. It could happen to anyone on their way to work. But it’s also rare, so why assume it’s only a matter of time until I’m sent off the rails?
In the second image, strips of a woodland creek scene butt up against photos of the disaster, as if the trees and water were complicit or at least, failing to offer protection.
Found my protective talisman. My agent of change. My reminder of where transformation lies.
Coming of age as I did near New Lebanon, New York, the site of The Abode, I knew Sufis. Worked with a few at a Japanese restaurant near the intersection of Routes 20 and 22. Watched the waitresses go weak in the knees when Pir Vilayat Khan came to dine.
Whirling draws down heaven, even when you are a clod with no teacher and slim practice. Reliably so.
Somewhat like Grace’s Tree Woman, this glowing image of dervishes has been in my possession been for many, many years — most recently, pinned to the basement fridge (in my studio) with magnets. Ten years? More?
Still in bed. Feel like I’ve taken on some of K’s jet lag. But my cold is gone.
PS I discovered while cutting out another outline, that by clipping the hood and shortening one arm so that the figure appears to be facing forward with her arms extended (in a gesture of MERCY, in fact), the figure goes from male to female.