FOR THOSE OF YOU THAT KNOW MY WHOLE STORY, THIS WILL MAKE A LOT OF SENSE.
in high school I had reoccurring dreams of a symbol–a hand with an eye on it. Dreamed it all the time. I had no idea what it meant, but it remained with me always. A few years later I was dreaming I was in this different aboriginal world and we were painting our faces with blue war paint. A woman, the leader, kept saying something very close to the sound of “Fatima” and I bolted out of bed but I could not write it down for some strange reason–it slipped away too quickly. More time passed. I got sick. Really sick.. I’d sob into
my hospital mattress praying the Hail Mary over and over and over until I fell asleep. And everything changed. But I came back to that dream of the hand with the eye on it, and mulled it over while I was healing.
Last month I was at church (a very rare occasion because I try very hard not to cry for some reason when I”m there) and I was walking out with my grandpa and there was a table of pamphlets and audiobooks set up and I stopped dead in my tracks–there it was; Fatima. I knew that name but from where? I kept repeating it in my head. I knew it. It was a picture of the Virgin Mary, the vision in Portugal. I stopped my mother and whispered that I knew this–that I’d dreamed this. Naturally she shrugged and that was that. More time passed.
I looked up “hand with eye” and what came up was the Hamsa symbol–the hand of a holy woman (or God’s hand for some) with the eye for protection against evils. I didn’t read much more because I was floating on the fact that I had dreamed these things and thought maybe–just maybe. I was so drawn to it, I ordered my hamsa ring after waiting years to get it–I don’t know why I waited. I stared at it on Etsy every month or so. But I had to have it. It was me.
Then I’m at home reading the art of Tantra and books on Sacred Sexuality Continue reading “Hamsa–The Hand of Fatima & The Virgin Mary”
just for you Doug
–something cool–the Islam tradition with mentally ill people that they call the village idiot is sort of extremely cared for and loved by the society because it is considered his soul is gone with Allah and they are to take care of his body and remember they have their soul yet.
So I’m not sure how to begin this post because it was all so intense and beautiful. Some of you may know about Erica. I’ve written several poems and stories about her, including this week’s one “Wonder.” We were true adventurers and kindred spirits, soul mates, when our worlds around us (in private) were treacherous and unknown, we found sanctuary and beauty in each other. “My first love,” as she put it, “love in its purest form.” THat was us. We drifted, we “broke up” in a sense. But we never forgot each other–especially when we each had our own breakdowns on opposite sides of the world. We began emailing and writing to each other and sending music to each other. We confessed our souls out again–and our pain only we could understand about each other. I can’t get into it all because it’d be a novella, but I will get into the last letters she sent me this week. I was sobbing so hard about the transformative experiences I was hiccupping :)
She lives in North Carolina and is about to embark on a 12 week Learning Journey that her boyfriend developed through his Mycelium School, and just recently she embarked on a Grief Ritual (a transformative experience) led by Sobonfu Some. She gathered in a small room with 104 people sitting in a semi circle around Sobonfu, sitting and listening and askiing questions for the first few hours. They talked about g Continue reading “Transformative Experiences”
The pop and snap of prescription pill bottles
swallow, light, inhale, scrape of the chair,
cluster of tap-tap-taps on the keys, a silence—
beyond this room, beyond this wall
I can almost hear you—the soil
sifting, seeds spreading out, dry in your palm;
folds of light robes around you like
birds’ wings—your child
asleep on your warm back,
your sky a sea, an earth, a breath
because you’re there I’m less anxious
(as I palm another pill) because I rely
on sedated time I sit in my chair,
lost somewhere before the border,
where I see myself later—aged and worn away—
walking to you, palms up.
“Here, here I am…” only you aren’t waiting
for me, time is something else to you—
so I see I don’t have to tell you
where I’ve been or why I am here
but that I’ve arrived
out of the cement tomb;
the rise and fall of my chest is all,
seas of breath and I am.
I know the scent of your skin,
the feel of your warm, bent back Continue reading “Borders”
So I’m reading up some more on Jung which led me back to Alan Watts The Way of Zen. It’s a great book but I prefer (here’s a PDF version) The Book: The Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are. Here’s a snippet of what The Book is like:
If you haven’t read these and are interested in healing and finding your way than these are the books for you. I’ve been a long-time fan of Watts and now my self-study to occupy my days is Jung. One part I wanted to share with you is Jung’s Psychological Types (a brief intro). There are 8 psychological types according to Jung: out of the two ATTITUDE types and the four FUNCTIONAL types it becomes theoretically possible to describe eight psychological types:
- extraverted sensation type
- introverted sensation type
- extraverted thinking type
- introverted thinking type
- extraverted feeling type
- intraverted feeling type
- extraverted intuition type
- intraverted intuition type
I’m the Intraverted Intuitive type (to read what these are check out in brief JUNG: A VERY SHORT INTRODUCTION):
“Introverted Intuition does not concern itself with external possibilities but with what the external objects has released within.’ People of this type are inclined to make use of the mechanism of reification (i.e. they treat ideas, images, or insights as if they were real objects). ‘For intuition, therefore, unconscious images acquire the dignity of things.’ Like Jung himself, who was primarily an introverted intuitive type (with thinking as his auxiliary function), they have difficulty in communicating ideas simply and in an organized way, for they pursue image after image, idea after idea, ‘chasing after every possibility in the womb of the unconscious,’ as Jung says, while usually overlooking what personal implications these possibilities may have. ‘Had his type not existed, there would have been no prophets in Israel.’ They may have brilliant insights, which, if they can be bothered or sufficiently organized to communicate them, others proceed to build on.
Shadow: extraverted sensation. Because this is mostly unconscious, they are constantly in danger of losing touch with outer reality, and if they break down they become schizophrenic (oh so true). Many have schizoid personalities, as did Jung himself as a boy. Vague about practical details and poorly oriented in space and time, they tend to forget appointments, are seldom punctual, and easily get lost in strange places. Their poor relationship to reality, combined with the depth of their insights, causes some to experience themselves as belonging to the ‘misunderstood genius’ category. Their attitude to sexuality can be crude and inappropriate, and they tend to make poor lovers :( since they are unaware of what is happening in their own or their partner’s body. :(
Examples: seers, poets, prophets, psychologists (not experimental or academic ones), artists, shamans, mystics, and Continue reading “Jung and Alan Watts”