A couple of days ago, my mom shared with me her recent writings and drawings from the visioning space. Some of them spoke of a time of great devastation which lies on the horizon, her writings a recollection of some of the moments alive within her memory, those to which she continues to grieve, those that remain somehow unreachable despite the rich aliveness within her memory, some still filled with much pain about a life she feels still remains unlived. Her words `somehow everything i did, i managed to fail at`. I asked her when she was going to set about embarking on reframing those supposed failures, to the inititiations that they were possibly meant to be, most of all i questioned her as to how she had so much faith in what i was here to do, despite the similarities of `failure`that she evidences in her own life, somehow not so different from the experiences in mine. Out from deep within me, a pool of grief, fear and inadequacy came to visit.
I spoke to her about the fears i had about mothering alone, whether i would remain stable enough to do so, as so much of my outer life seems to continually rescind and my inner life stays hidden behind the walls of my art, my writing, the space i have come to call home.
I spoke of he lonliness of this path i call my own, how it continues to take people from me, passions that once promised a much grander ability to support madison`s wellbeing and my passions in the outer world. I spoke of never belonging, finding parts of community that spoke to some singular threads within me but always revealing there was never a reflectionary composite out there of what lived in here. I spoke of my longing for the divine partnership, my fears of having no more children, or partnering too late and not wanting to bring little people in at that time. I spoke of my professional concerns and whether i would ever keep this house a float or continuosly just scrape by, i spoke of feeling invisible most of the time, grief.....fear....pain...despair. She bore witness to my outcry that seemed to continue for hours, like flood gates had opened and the rushing waters burst forth. Until the moment came, the well had dried up, there wasn`t much more to say, and so i said i was tired and headed to bed. I wrapped myself up in my blankets, held on to my elephant tight and softly fell into the dreamworld again. I seemed to dream all night, all though the details are no longer clear. The predominant dream was my wedding day. I was to be married in someone`s backyard, there seemed to be some shoty carnival going on in the background, my family was missing and claire`s parents were sitting at a picnic table. It seemed they were in the dream replacing my own. `Claire was at my side through all the preparations, reassuring me things would play out okay, despite an ongoing discovery of things that had gone wrong. I remember looking down at my faded yellow dress, somehwat old fashioned and in some weird lace, a burn hole i found in the fabric but didnt seem to mind. I`m not sure who i was marrying but for some reason i knew all the things that had gone wrong in the preparations, all the imperfect surroundings all didn`t matter, i was finally getting married, even the burnhole in the dress didn`t seem to phase me.
I awoke feeling like i had been well nurtured by the dreamworld, with an avid desire to return to bed soon and keep dreaming. I`m not sure what that dream meant, but i felt it neccessary to record it anyway.
I have been thinking about my life as of late and it`s relation to my ancestral beginnings. I just have this desire to attened to the hearth, bring more children into the world, continue sewing, painting, dreaming, journeying, writing, loving, dancing and come out of the hearth to commune with the sunlight, celebrate in community, be one with all that is. But isnt that the way my ancestral mothers lived? Wasn't all of those things part of their visioning and wisdom in attending to the needs and direction of the community.
My journey to the spirit of the drum was about stepping into the fire and healing the collective feminine, one of the things i wrote after journeying was that this part of my life was a defininate change in the energy of the masculine or doing and a move on into the feminine and one of receptivity...yet still i feel quilty for not being productive in the outer world, still i worry about the way in which i will support us, all of these questions that will for at least some time remain unanswered, so for now i continue to write, to dream, to commune, to sew, to breathe life into the future of this vision....
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