Butterfly burning

She lived, more than most, in a world of make-believe.

I have felt the swaying of the elephant's shoulders

I dreamt of an elephant standing before a small pool. There was a line of elephants, adolescent-sized, all standing in front of pools, and people would square off before them for some kind of hand-to-hand combat. It was my turn, and I said to the people around me, "I would rather hurt a human than an animal," and then something about animals' consciousness being pure. I walked up to the elephant and gently extended my face to his, offering soft sounds and words. He came closer and our energy simply melted.

Then the elephant stood up on its hind legs and rested its front feet on my shoulders, like a puppy.

The day after the dream I saw this post on The Lipstick Diaries and felt inspired to find myself an elephant necklace. Of course I went straight to etsy, and after a fair bit of contemplating, decided on this cute little guy.

The colors of the Dark One have penetrated Mira's

    body; all the other colors washed out.

Making love with the Dark One and eating little,

    those are my pearls and my carnelians.

Meditation beads and the forehead streak, those are

    my scarves and my rings.

That's enough feminine wiles for me. My teacher

    taught me this.

Approve me or disapprove me: I praise the Mountain

    Energy night and day.

I take the path that ecstatic human beings have taken

    for centuries.

I don't steal money, I don't hit anyone. What will you

    charge me with?

I have felt the swaying of the elephant's shoulders;
    and now you want me to climb on a jackass? Try
    to be serious.

                               - Mirabai

Idea box

Lake Coeur d'Alene, Idaho

There are a number of model T's sitting on the bottom of the lake, due to people in the early 1900s who would drive across the lake during the winter time in order to save half the distance in getting around the lake. When the ice broke, so did the chances for getting across. Also, there are some steamboats on the bottom that had been burned when they were no longer used to ferry people around on the lake. Divers frequently visit these ruins on the bottom.

wellsprung//waters

I run from place to place ~
because why not?
My apartment smells of sweet potatoes
& sandalwood.
I take my tea strong
and my chocolate dark.
This night feels like oh so many other
nights: The premonition of spring,
the tease of night-blooming jasmine
on the tongue. The past is becoming past.
The darkness is receding into
candlelight. There is only one here
who knows me, & only one I
know. I remember every night in this
one: the plain familiarity of strewn clothes
& clean sheets. A face in the mirror that must
be my own. The tender imaginings of
solitude that never tire. A million lives
crushed & scattered like perfume
petals on my pillow. A recurring dream.
A reflection split in two. A gaze I return
unflinching. All of it contained in the vessel
of this night, in the barrel of solitude
deep and beckoning as a well.

Messages from the Underworld

The morning's dream themes:

A baby girl I had forgotten I had, and left in the care of N for her first delicate months.

{You indeed have to take care of your newborn self}

 

A back yard apple tree bursting with ripe fruit. I was warned by the landlord that the last tenants hadn't picked the apples when they were ripe, so now, he claimed, they were wild and inedible. 

I tasted one on the sly: Ambrosia. 

{What we make up 

vs. 

what's true}

lust to live

"Why "2THESKY" ? "To" or (the Japanese character) "ニ" are not correct. It must be "2." As I have said before - photographs are an imitation of reality and life, the counterfeit of reality, not creation. Therefore, a photograph is a secondary thing. I do everything with a spiritual feeling. I wrote something into the sky, because I had the feeling that I would like to create "another sky that is mine." This makes me think about death and life. If one becomes heavier, the other one becomes heavier too. With the premonition of death comes the desire for life, the lust to live. This book is my "posthumous work," but maybe it is not finished yet, maybe from now on life is going to begin. I am crossing the rainbow bridge, ah! I am falling... " nobuyoshi araki

Use them all

In the last few weeks I've seen the same piece of creative advice from two different channels: Use all of your ideas. One artist said that this philosophy came from observing that when she lets even one idea go, her work suffers. The other artist said that this artist told her that he uses all his ideas in part because "if an idea is any good it’s on the verge of being stupid."

I have always felt that, even in some of my best writing projects, I am a born collaborator. I get sparked & energized when working with another person. Part of it must be having an audience, being seen & heard -- a habitual need so entrenched in my psyche that I feel virtually nonexistent (ha! virtually nonexistent -- story of my life) without the mirror of an other. But the truth is I could be spending the abundance of my solitary time creating. Not just dance videos or journal entries, but clothing sketches, film treatments, book proposals, one-act plays, photography projects. Yesterday my coworker and I conjured an entire film, complete with cast, based on some wacky vision-association of a Dragonminge (too many references here to name), all conveyed over the medium of AIM. I suppose I don't have any shortage of ideas, however silly or unrealistic; what I feel lacking is the confidence and company with which to execute.

I know of one person I feel creatively linked to in a way that feels cosmically compelling. However, for the time being, emotional circumstances preclude involvement in each other's lives. Maybe someday the forces will align. For now...I'll keep scribbling and bibbling, bibbling and scribbling, and trust that the impetus & wherewithal to use all of my ideas will come.