Grandmother’s Coat

Grandmother-s coat heller kleinI have always been fascinated by Clarissa Pinkola Estes idea of making a full length scapecoat to detail in painting, writing, with all manner of things pinned and stitched inside. But I really love what Alice Wellinger has done here. This beautiful piece truly resonates and fuels the desire to do something using a grey coat that I have had hanging, unworn for many years.

In order to come to know them better it could also be good to explore what the inside of a character’s coat looks like

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A Room of Her Own – At Riversleigh

Soultide

Virginia Wolfe filled the hearts of women with yearning when she wrote about ‘A Room Of My Own’. Blogging technology enabled women to have rooms of their own at Riversleigh Manor.

Soul Tide’s blog remains a tribute and shows how you do not have to have independent means to have a very private room of your own.

Telescopic Lens

He looked at his own Soul
with a Telescope. What seemed
all irregular, he saw and
shewed to be beautiful
Constellations: and he added
to the Consciousness hidden
worlds within worlds
Coleridge, Notebooks

Working with the rope is a bit like seeing through a telescope. What I see, as I work, are fragments.
I remember, for example, the way I played and contemplate how that contributed to the constellation that is me.
Carl Jung describes in his Memories, Dreams, Reflections how he went outdoors and almost each day would gather from a lake a series of stones to stack. Stacking stones led to desire. He built a village made of stones, complete with cottages, castle, and cathedral. It was only much later that he recognized the significance of this daily habit. He speaks of how, “when we are old, we are drawn back, both from within and from without, to the memories of youth.”
Yesterday I sought chalk.
Chalk, tied in, will remind me of hours spent in the ‘Nanny’s old room’ teaching an assorted collection of dolls and my teddy. It was in there that I created a world of phantasy that defined who I would become.

Containing Memory

The sleepy basket girl
walks through the pink Lemurian mist
each early morning,
singing out, in a sweet alto voice,
“Dreams for sale!
Look in my basket,
full of pretty dreams!
Pick any one you like!
Only cost you a quick kindness,
don’t cost nothin’ to look!
Old dreams, new dreams,
anything you can dream of!
Anything can happen today
in the City of Ladies!
Come on, now, my dears,
you beautiful Lemurian dreamers,
Try one of my fresh dreams right now –
today could be amazing!
And where she walks she leaves a magic trail
of pink and purple glittering pixie dust,
a few sand dollars, some pretty shells,
the heavy, sweet scent of longing
for what could have been,
and just a hint of what may yet be
by Kerry Vincent (c) 2008

Ball

The thing about the story of the hero, as Ursula Le Guin points out in The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction, is that it is ‘his’ story and not ours. More worryingly, we have primarily heard about “the sticks and spear sand swords, the things to bash and poke and hit with, the long, hard things and in the process stories about the minutiae of daily life have been lost.

One of the special things about the work that was done within Lemuria was that it grew to become a place filled with stories about people rather than stories about great battles. In this environment you could write, quite simply, as Kerry Vincent did, about glittering pixie dust, pretty shells, sand dollars and the scent of longing.

If it is human to fill baskets, and every other imaginable container, with things that you want, or want to remember, and then, leave them and pull these things out when you need them then, like Le Guin, I am human.

As my ball grows, it will become like an intricately woven net that captures moments in time.When unwoven, at some time, it might be found to contain little more than a note, a photo, a pebble. To many these things may appear worthless, and the ball may be discarded as a bundle of rags.

No matter!

What matters is that I know what memories, potential stories to be told, lie within it.

Law of Accretion

accretion
əˈkriːʃ(ə)n/
noun
noun: accretion
1.
growth or increase by the gradual accumulation of additional layers or matter.
“the accretion of sediments in coastal mangroves”
synonyms: accumulation, collecting, gathering, amassing, cumulation, accrual, growth, formation, enlargement, increase, gain, augmentation, rise, mushrooming, snowballing;

AccretionIt began with a simple line of cloth rope.

Then, quite unexpectedly, the rope took on a life of its own and began whispering to me.

It began to grow.

First there was the introduction of varying shades and color.

Then, as the fingers worked, talking, as they have a habit of doing, directly to the brain, memories rose.

Voices called for me to bear witness to what lay, deep within.

Words on paper that need no explanation! The words sewn on the ball. Words that will disappear into the growing mass.

The process of accretion has been activated!

I am reminded of making Descansos!

there is a time in our lives, usually in midlife, when a woman has to make a decision – possibly the most the important psychic decision of her future life – about whether to be bitter or not”

Without a hint of bitterness I am acknowledging the role of accretion in my life. Some of those layers of matter that fill the crevices within may be represented here..

And so the ball forms a mass, hiding within it the things that lie hidden within me, yet yearn to be acknowledged.