Wednesday, October 6, 2010
In the meantime, It's been awhile. I started a tumblr blog (also by the name of impossiblesix) but never really connected with it the way I did this little blog. This little relic of such a crazy, passionate, whirlwind, of self discovery and living. Looking back on the shattered dream of this time period breaks my heart. Truly. Briefly I thought of deleting all of the posts. I declined to.
This is me. I was here. I lived. I loved. I love still. I don't regret.
I deleted some posts but I kept a great many. The only relationship post that survives is the tale of a wild adventure sailing the high seas. One of my many happiest memories of that time.
I remain convinced a man who does not read to me while I'm in the bath cannot possibly be my soul mate.
But that was then. This is now.
The current love of my life is my 85 year old Grandmother, Nora Kate. In her age weathered hands she holds my heart. When my life began to unravel I moved home to take care of her. She had just been placed on hospice care and the thought of her being admitted to a nursing home crushed my spirit. I knew I was in a period of upheaval so I decided to burn everything down and emerge like a pegasus. I quit my eclectic high-paying job, packed up, and here I am still. There's been a lot of unraveling in the past year or so. I came here to take care of her and mostly she takes care of me. I can't even write about it without tearing up. This is me crying, I am terribly emotional.
This is a quiet time in my life. A much needed quiet time. A reflective time.
I saw via a rather silly television sitcom rerun some bit about "announcing dreams." Essentially an announcing dream is one wherein a reincarnating spirit communicates with its future mother. The belief is that reincarnation is the binding of spirits together in life that binding is a communication process. The announcing dream is a way for the reincarnating spirit to introduce itself as it were to the spirit already incarnated. A message that says "I'm ready to be here now", that asks "can I spend this time with your spirit", etc. An intensely beautiful thought. It instantly brought to mind an incredibly vivid dream I had in January. I saw a baby sitting in a high chair, the high chair I sat in as an infant, in the kitchen of my family's home at that time. I knew instantly, that was my baby, my son. I longed to meet him. I woke up miffed because by day I had been daydreaming of a little girl I could name after my grandmother. I was also a bit baffled as the dream had a feeling of imediacy and I was not then (and am not now) discussing the possibility of marriage with anyone. Nonetheless it was haunting then, it is haunting now. I believe in the power of dreams. The rest of my thoughts on the matter remain between me and my frozen banana yogurt - which I am eating with a runcible spoon.
Dare to dream,
Friday, February 15, 2008
I meditate in the bath. The water needs to be very hot, so hot you can barely stand putting your foot in it. Then you lower yourself, inch by inch, till the water's up to your neck.
I remember the ceiling over every bathtub I've stretched out in. I remember the texture of the ceilings and the cracks and the colors and the damp spots and the light fixtures. I remember the tubs, too: the antique griffin-legged tubs, and the modern coffin-shaped tubs, and the fancy pink marble tubs overlooking indoor lily ponds, and I remember the shapes and sizes of the water taps and the different sorts of soap holders.
I never feel so much myself as when I'm in a hot bath.
taken from: The Bell Jar, by: Sylvia Plath
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Having no apparatus except gut fear and female cunning to examine this formless magic, to understand how it works, how to measure its field strength, count its lines of force, she may fall back on superstition, or take up a useful hobby like embroidery, or go mad, ... If the tower is everywhere and the knight of deliverance no proof against its magic, what else?
--Thomas Pynchon: The Crying of Lot 49, Chapter 1
Paranoids are not paranoid because they're paranoid, but because they keep putting themselves, fucking idiots, deliberately into paranoid situations.
-- Thomas Pynchon's Proverbs for Paranoids: Collected from Gravity's Rainbow, V237, 241, 251, 262, & 292
Pictured: The Lady and the Unicorn, tapestry, ca: 1490
Worthy of mention: Unicorn Mythology with regard to maidens
Friday, August 24, 2007
Then today I read this quote from Thomas Pynchon and temporary generational amnesia is all so clear:
--V., Chapter Seven, Part I
Saturday, August 18, 2007
link: free will astrology
The Two Trees
Friday, August 17, 2007
I've secretly always wanted this couch for my very own. I also secretly wish I could find an anaylist who has replicated one.
The New York Times writes:
"One of the most famous pieces of furniture in the world, Freud's couch, above, was where his patients reclined as their psyches were probed. It was not, however, a fainting couch or a chaise longue, like your Victorian antique. The couch where the likes of the composer Gustav Mahler and the American poet H. D. were treated was a decidedly more homespun affair hidden beneath a slipcover: a plump muslin-covered underbody with an integral sausagelike roll at one end, a large detached cushion for back support and two low fabric-covered platforms.
That analytic couch is still a feature of the cozy antiquities-strewn study at the Freud Museum at 20 Maresfield Gardens in London, a handsome brick mansion where the psychoanalyst lived from 1938 until his death a year later; it remained the home of his daughter Anna, a child psychoanalyst, until 1982. (Photographs and information are at freud.org.uk.)
The couch wasn't, however, upholstered in a kilim, which is a Middle Eastern rug with no soft pile. Then as now the couch — said to have been a gift to Freud from a patient around 1890 — was draped with a velvet-textured late-19th-century Qashqai Shekarlu wool carpet colored red and blue and patterned with flowers and diamond medallions. It was piled with soft cushions in moody shades of red, gold and green; a Persian carpet hung on the wall behind.
Freud would sit in a green velvet chair at the head of the couch while patients would recline, supported in a semi-upright position by the cushions..."
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Tav also initiates one of the most crucial terms in kabbalistic practice, tikkun. Tikkun means "to repair" or "to redeem." In the 1500's Rabbi Isaac Luria taught the ultimate task of each person is to contribute to the meaning of a shattered universe, unifying sparks of holiness through perceiving the inherent sacredness of all things. He taught that we uplift and redeem the fallen sparks of holiness that are hidden in "husks" within every thing, by means of our prayers, our deepened awareness, an dour acts of loving-kindness.
Contemporary Rabbi David Cooper writes, "Our opportunities to raise sparks are boundless. The choices we make for our activities, the interactions we have with our family, friends, neighbors, business associates, and even strangers, the way we spend our leisure time, the books we read, the television we watch, the way we relate to food, everything in our daily life presents sparks locked in husks awaiting relase."
By releasing these sparks we prepare the way for the redemption of the world. Thus Tav and tikkun show us that the path to the end of all things, is also the path to the beginning.