Creative Handprint
On this journey I have learned..
To make skilly and duff
The ancient, symbolic meaning of serpents
How Chinese pirates lived and died during the third and last great period of power, the years from 1780-1810
About Zheng Yi Sao
About homelessness
About choosing
That I can be mopping the floor at work and swabbing the decks on the Calabar Felonway at the same time
Relinquishment, selflessness is the ultimate power
Skinnydipping in the Ocean of Imagination is always refreshing
The two rules to the creative process:
1. Begin
2. Continue
Fear turns one to stone
Laughing through tears makes rainbows
That believing God is exclusively male is a myth I have lived by, one which blinds me to the infinite glory of God.
Creating is a way of praying
Creating makes pain easier to bear
The biographies of goddesses
That when it is dark the stars appear, although they have been there all along
by Wendy Bird
Beginning the Journey at Last
I’ve left behind the skins of my old self
Because how else will I grow?
I step through the doorway to a world far removed from the stage I’d just performed on
I look back at the past selves I have shed, am trying to shed, am trying to leave behind in the surrender box
No doubt some fear, procrastination, dissatisfaction, inferiority complex and depression will follow me wherever I travel
But luckily I can shed as many times as I need to
I’m armed and ready for my journey
As the others are too
We all have our maps and special bags packed with things to help us along the way
Bless the woman who is le Enchanteur, our guide, our motivator and the ignition to our creative fires
I adjust the straps on my bags and smooth my skirt
I check the soles of my boots and estimate that they should last until I reach the House of the Serpent
I spy a strange looking animal watching me from the bushes
And my old self would have been afraid
But I’d been told that this might happen and so I strode confidently up to the beast
She looked at me with wary eyes
As I examined her I couldn’t figure out whether I was supposed to climb onto her back or take her reigns
I didn’t even know what creature she might be
Something between a horse, a hippopotamus and a bird (wings only)
I started walking along the Serpentine Road
Realising that I was alone with this creature because I’d dawdled (again)
I turned to look at her and she seemed to know what I wanted
She soon caught up and walked beside me, snorting softly and clip clopping at a leisurely pace
I sensed we’d be good travelling companions
by Stacey Anne Cole
protection against the perils of forgetfulness
Here is a necklace of gingko leaves strung on a cord. Gingko possesses powers to aid those suffering from forgetfulness.
In certain circumstances it may even be necessary to drink a couple of drops of Essence of Lethe when foes try to wipe your memory
Descansos and journey of the heart
My body is marked by the scars of descansos: a simple childhood fall resulting in an awkward break requiring pinning. The scar on my keloid skin as livid now as it was 40 years ago, more like the weal from a burn. A fall from a moving bus and 6 stitches in my head. Two scars track across my belly: removal of a poisoned appendix and subsequent abcesses. The second and most painful in all senses: an emergency operation to remove both fallopian tubes. “I’m sorry you won’t be able to have children, except by IVF” said the gynaecologist the next day. All potential for creating new life gone with the cut of the knife. Attempts at IVF resulted in nothing but misery followed by acceptance and finally by the finding of new paths of creativity – a burgeoning interest in amateur dramatics and theatrical workshops. Voice workshops with Barb on whose body are tattooed a number of runes – a permanent record of events that have marked her. Watching over the building of our new house and being able to start a garden from scratch; learning to play the piano again, albeit badly, after a gap of 35 years; singing in a choir; reacting to creative stimuli and trying my hand at writing and artworks; traveling and travel journals, digital photography; learning a new language; explorations of new worlds.
Journey of the heart
Updated and revised version of a letter I wrote to the woman I was 10 years ago (now 20 years ago).
My dear,
20 years have passed and you have experienced much in that time.
You have become a self-assured woman who has overcome the disappointment of not being able to have children and has, instead, enjoyed the company of a number of cats. You have discovered that, with the increased amount of free time available through not having had children, you have been able to enrich your personal and cultural life. You have met people of different nationalities and have learned to love their countries, languages, music, food and wine.
After moving abroad, you settled in so quickly that you decided to sell your old house and build a new one, near the city but in the countryside, something that you would never have been able to do if you had stayed put and you had all the fun and hard work of creating a garden from scratch. Blood, sweat and tears and all that.
In your professional life you weighed up the pros and cons of making a career and decided that there were more important things. You have been in the same job now for 15 years – together with your colleague you have worked out a good modus operandi and the work is autonomous. It can be difficult and, at times, unpleasant but you work well and enjoy it.
On the negative side there is not too much to say. Circumstances have taken you away from your family and a number of close friends whom you still miss. Your sister lives in the U.S. but you usually manage to meet up with her and her family every couple of years. Your brother has settled down and married and lives close to your parents – a weight off your mind as your parents are now in their mid eighties.
People say you have changed a lot since coming here. Perhaps you didn’t notice at first but now, with hindsight and the wisdom that has come from experience, you know that it is true. You are more self-assured and confident in what you do. You have gained a certain serenity from having come close to death on two occasions and you know that life is too short to play with.
If you have any regrets it is because you have not always had the courage to say certain things to certain people and have not taken those decisions that would have turned your life upside down. Was it because of cowardice or because, deep down, you knew it would be better to stay as you were. Perhaps you will never know and, in the meantime, much water has flowed under the bridge.
I hope that your life will continue to be as peaceful as you would wish and know that I am happy for you.
by Carol Abel
Marked Out Heart
“Of course you know it isn’t going to be that easy,” the bees buzz. As I’d now shed my skin, they are free to fly around me for the first time. I am touched that they don’t make a big deal out of this, or berate me for hiding them from view. They seem to understand that our symbiosis is not an easy one for me.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Well, walking naked in the world is not easy for humans, never has been,” they explain. They are happy to let their wings buzz freely, and sit quietly on my shoulders, my skin as I walk.
“Humans who take such risks have been prone to ridicule and misunderstanding, and some have even been thrown into jail,” they say.
“I take your point my dear hive, but this is a different place, and my nakedness is more about the opening of my heart than anything else,” I say.
“We were just getting to that actually…don’t you think we know you by now?”
I wonder what they mean. It’s true, the bees have always been with me. Or almost always. They made their appearance as I came into puberty. It took me years to understand my relationship with them, long hard years that resulted in stings, rashes, battles that left me scarred. And then, after the first six year cycle, falling in love, honey released through my skin, I understood. They knew my heart better than anyone.
“You do understand what’s coming, what’s involved?”
I stop on my path, my first faltering step ever since I started the journey.
The mapping of my heart.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When I sat down to do this, I thought I knew what the outcome would be. I thought it would be about the heart breaks, I was prepared to write about ex-lovers and wrenched goodbyes and premature endings. Nothing prepared me for what actually happened. First I drew a picture, and it didn’t turn out like I expected, but then I knew that it was true, because that’s just what life is like. I studied it and realised it looked like the surface of a moon, marked out by craters and spots.
I knew I had to take a deeper look, and decided to do a word map of my heart. Inspired by the suggestion below by Faucon of Sakinel, I typed words at random on a blank sheet of paper. Then I freewrote responses to each word. Imagine my surprise when it turned out that most of what I wrote was about my mother. My heart seemed to be all about her. And what I was writing was not pretty. I got negative, dark, angry. But I made sure I ended in a good place. I made sure I ended with the words opening, doors, path, grace, love, heart, now. Because that is where I am.
So it’s turned out to be both map and unburdening, which I now offer to the Rainbow Priestess on this humbling journey.
by Verity
Shedding the Skin
As I set out on this road that beckons me, I prepare myself for the journey like I have prepared for no other. I may be a seasoned traveller, have a nomadic heritage, but this isn’t a journey like others have been. On this path, I will not need to pack up all my belongings, taking the weight of my life with me, to set up home elsewhere. I will not be asked to go somewhere against my will, against my own desire. I will have choices, starting from right now. And best of all, I really can travel light. I have always had hope and excitement at the start of every journey, but I have also had a stubborn determination to forge ahead, trampling all the while on everything that has gone before, lest the grief, the sadness, those feelings I should have let myself experience, held me back. And I’ve had the burden of what awaits me to face, the expectations of others, a new group of new faces. So I’ve learned over the years to wear a mask, to be as far as possible what others expect of me, to hide the flaws, hide the scars, hide the darkness, to be the person that will elicit smiles, friendliness, the person who fits in. Not on this journey. On this journey, I will leave this mask, which has indeed become like a skin, behind in the surrender box. It may have served me before, but it does not belong on this journey. On this journey, I will set out naked and free to be the person I am.
by Verity
A Map To Guide Us
Lori has been doggedly mapping our journey and by George she has it now. We all know that more will detail will need to be shown on the map, and we are still to locate the Cave of the Ancients, but this will be a boon to any confused traveller.
After the Surrender
I’d just dumped my timidity and fear in the surrender box but when the painted tangle of snakes on the door began to writhe, I passed through very quickly and did not look back.
“Ah, sunlight!” I found myself sighing in relief.
“They were just trying to get a rise out of you,” rabbit offered, but I noticed it gave a furtive little shiver.
“Will you be coming with me?” I was surprised to see it still by my side.
“Uh, well, I guess that’s up to you and your ride,” it answered as we dodged out of the way of a camel who’d nearly plowed into us. Several dromedaries and twenty or so braying donkeys were milling about the wide roadway trying to connect with excited tour members. I noticed a few old friends among the many new faces, but conversation was impossible amid the noise and chaos of people, animals and belongings.
“Who ya’ looking for?” my new friend asked.
“Oh, someone who’s not here, I guess. I traveled with Geraldine last year and I’d so love to see her again.”
“She’s uh, out to here right now,” it told me, sitting and patting it’s belly,” but her daughter’s around somewhere, I just saw her hat.” Rabbit sat tall, all of fifteen inches or so and scanned the crowd.
“Georgina?” The moment I called, an adorable little jenny in a straw hat with red flowers whinnied and pushed her way through the crowd toward me. “Oh, my gosh, you look just like your mother! How is she?”
“I hope not, ” she giggled, “she’s having twins, but she’s content and told me to look for you. Hey, Belinda!”
“Hey, Georgie Girl, first trip for le enchanteur, whoo hoo, this should be fun!”
I was wrapping my mind around “Belinda” as a most unlikely name for this feisty rabbit, when suddenly the noise ceased, the chaos evaporated, and we three remained alone with nothing but the dusty road serpentining into the distance. Poor Georgina looked about to faint and I felt a bit dizzy, but rabbit was grinning like a Cheshire Cat.
“That was so cool!” it said, thumping its’ back foot in exuberance and breaking into song, “On the road again, it feels so good to be on the road. . . . . . . . ”
This was going to be one interesting trip!
by Barbara Banta
Blank Map
There is a special excercise of self-discovery —
useful for mapping heart, soul or even dilusions.
Take a single piece of white paper and a good pen.
Sit somewhere comfortable and isolated,
perhaps outside ‘neath a tree.
When you put pen to paper you must write
NON-STOP until the entire sheet is full —
never lifting the pen or editing your thoughts —
just let it flow. Later, look at this flow of ideas,
but also images formed by the shape of the lines,
like inkblots, or
smudges on your mirror.
Serpentine Road 