 cauterizing the tendernesses of the heart
hemorrhaging past pain and misfortune to the day. knotting the end of the trend to ache interminably lost to what was. entering into the now with a, 'how to be free?' valerie moysey february 13, 2010
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February 15, 2010 by Larissa
Planting the seeds of love. Come to me! Answer my Soul’s deep longings To be connected, loved and desired. Fill my being with bliss, Let my heart sing The song of Love, Passion and Joy. Touch me with the feather of your flying Spirit, Magical, playful and soaring high above. Take me on a Journey to explore new horizons and Beauty of the world. Show me places I’ve never travelled to even in my wildest dreams. Let’s cross the roads of life together, naked and laughing. Dive with me into the depths of our Souls, Dancing with the Dark, Holding hands through Life’s high’s and low, Embracing the natural flow. Creating, playing, loving and praying, Shaping and moulding ever changing expressions of deep Soul’s desires. Sweet, juicy, delicious drops of dew, Embracing nectar of Love, ever burning, ever longing! Our souls can sing the song of Love, eternally, gracefully. Let the red rose open her petals, slowly, Penetrating so deeply into each cell, Transforming it into burning passionate glow, The essence of Life and sorrow, To create vital, alive and sweet tomorrow. Let it grow, let it spread Let it shine through me, The touch of Love, caressed by the magical wings of Aphrodite. Can you feel it? Can you hear it? The music of your Soul. It’s calling you! a letter - some reflections on being temporarily disabled
january 23, 2010 yes, thanks for asking my leg is mending as is my mind-body-soul. every day is different i can not put myself into the box of my abilities of the day before because i appear to be in a dynamic state of flux. quite a practice in being in the now. this flu-cold thing is finally on the way out and as it is exiting my body i have more energy and stamina to crutch around, more than i have so far. today i took the ttc to caro's workshop - 4-5 blocks of crutching 70 stairs 2x at dovercourt house. 20 stairs 2x on the ttc. and standing upright waiting for the bus for 20 min at the bus stop. none of which i could have done two days ago or when i had my monster purple cast on. i couch danced in caro's class (and got to write too). so there are changes - no more painkillers at night - two nights without. it's all good and i have inadvertently nestled up to my mortality and my vulnerability. i feel teary over my new found awareness of the razor's edge upon which we all tread with our health and happiness. everything is so fleeting. there are no guarantees - no matter how much preparation and healthy living i had been doing - it did not protect me from a lapse in awareness where i slipped both into a daydream and then onto the pavement. i'm not sure how to fully express what is going on in me but i did not have this experience when i was a teenager nor eleven years ago (two other times i was on crutches and cast/brace for 3-5 months respectively). the tenuousness, the precariousness of our lives feels acutely palpable to me. i haven't journeyed to the, 'so live for the moment' bit yet. i have been residing in the tissue paper that lines the bottom of the trampoline that we jump upon and seeing that tears are a lot more common than i knew. it does not take much to tear tissue paper nor does it take much to tear the lining of my heart or of the life that i had been living. is it the frailty of my assumptions that is shaking me up? have i relied too heavily on the scaffolding of my beliefs and stories? abiding by them as if they were true? i'm not sure what it is, but i know that i don't know. i know that nothing is certain - that nothing stays the same - nothing. not even concrete built into haitian house walls. i am wanting to articulate this piece that is hovering in me. i feel present and tender like an earth worm in the arizona sun. being warmed and a moment too long, scorched... this is where i am right now. thanks for listening. valerie A call for a title to our group poem!
Even though our poem is naked without its title, I gift you with our creative offering to you, the community. It was in the final minutes of our time in our sacred women's circle that I asked each woman to intuitively select a phrase or word from their journaling. I then invited each woman to recite her line, one after the other, so we may weave a poem together. Laura Nashman started our first spoken poem with her line. Then after we circled once around anti-clockwise, we circled backwards, starting with Misset. So, the last line of our poem now became the beginning of a new poem. Comments in forms of words, images, sounds (we may just hear them) and movements (we may just see them) are welcomed. Taking flight all over the world I am blossoming warrior of light. Flirting ephemeral magic Out of place and time, Purple Glory of my magic Loving fearlessly. Early Spring Goddess, White Snow Drop, Purple Crocus. I am health. Guard that feeling of Love and Peace. It is yours! I'm taking My happiness I wish I could dance all around the world. I wish I could dance all around the world I'm taking My happiness It is yours! Guard that feeling of Love and Peace. I am health. Early Spring Goddess, White Snow Drop, Purple Crocus. Loving fearlessly Purple Glory of my magic, Out of place and time Flirting ephemeral magic, I am blossoming warrior of light Taking flight all over the world. Visual Images and writings from the Saturday Jan. 30/10 session.  the spin feathers a way out. wings disengaged, disemboweled mind shapes. rigid lines, barring down into troughs, burrows, trenches long out of use. forgotten. they are the way out - the soft dander of possibility on the dark canvas of night. as with birds outside, the owls and night hawks find their way, so you can remember what it is to fly. what it is to die. what it is to fly to who you thought you were. valerie moysey jan. 30, 2010  http://picasaweb.google.ca/lh/photo/WrlzCH_bdenJXpN1j1xvmA?authkey=Gv1sRgCOWwgPn489OpUA&feat=directlink
Metamorphosis Under the Moon, 2010, 28" x 22", 71cm x 56cm, oil pastel on paper. by Brenda Clews Pastel sketch done in Caro Cloutier's Dreaming in the Dark Series on Saturday January 30th. Prosepoem written the next day. Creatrix/Creatress Under the full moon, she mutates. Her arms, bone twigs become wing feathers. Red hair flaming in the white light. A riptide of ocean in our blood pulled to the surface, this night of imaginings. Moonlight glosses the lake. The white muse moon pours magic. Under the full moon we see in the dark, our dreaming eyes open. Pastel on black paper, my fingers dance. The women sculpt each other. A creatrix is born. She is a wild woman. In the circle of wild women. In the wilds, where we transform. Among the night animals, owl, wolf, jaguar, where our breath roars, whispers, sings, where our visions transform us. | Caro CloutierI have always been fascinated by my dreams, those during my sleep and those I have had during my awake time. ArchivesCategoriesAll |
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