SoulCollage(R) Card: Diving Deep
The Return ~ Geneen Marie Haugen
Some day, if you are lucky, you’ll return from a thunderous journey
trailing snake scales, wing fragments
and the musk of Earth and moon.
Eyes will examine you for signs
of damage, or change
and you, too, will wonder
if your skin shows traces
of fur, or leaves,
if thrushes have built a nest
of your hair, if Andromeda
burns from your eyes.
Do not be surprised by prickly questions
from those who barely inhabit
their own fleeting lives, who barely taste
their own possibility, who barely dream.
If your hands are empty, treasureless,
if your toes have not grown claws,
if your obedient voice has not
become a wild cry, a howl,
you will reassure them. We warned you,
they might declare, there is nothing else,
no point, no meaning, no mystery at all,
just this frantic waiting to die.
And yet, they tremble, mute,
afraid you’ve returned without sweet
elixir for unspeakable thirst, without
a fluent dance or holy language
to teach them, without a compass
bearing to a forgotten border where
no one crosses without weeping
for the terrible beauty of galaxies
and granite and bone. They tremble, hoping your lips hold a secret, that the song your body now sings will redeem them, yet they fear your secret is dangerous, shattering, and once it flies from your astonished mouth, they-like you-must disintegrate before unfolding tremulous wings.
I haven't written much lately on this blog, busy preparing for and leading a Facilitator training for those who want to lead workshops on SoulCollage(R) - in French. As well as being immersed in translating documents and reviewing material, it has been a sweet, long summer of savouring the garden full of perennials, the ever-present roses; and now the switching of the seasons begins - the golden days and glorious skies of Autumn are still with us, but soon it will be dormancy and winter cold.
These inbetween times or transition months are full of little moments when you realize the transformationn has begun - ah, the geese are winging overhead - it must be time! Or you notice how dark it gets at supper time, 6:30 already dark! And you find it hard to keep your eyes open past 9:30 pm. We too go through dangerous times of transition and transformation - and this edgy poem reminds me that there are many cycles to my psyche, and I must pay attention to the cyclical changes in the sky and in my soul.
SOULCOLLAGE(R) CARD: the Tired Animus, Jennifer Boire
I'm writing an article on the Tired Animus, after a class I taught last March. It is a recurring theme for me - as I learn to acknowledge and accept that my energy has highs and lows, and that it is not always summer in my psyche (or youth)! After a busy few months of August and September, holding space for 27 wonderful women exploring the delightfully deep, soulnurturing process of SoulCollage(R) and how best teach it, I fell into a deep need for rest, and yet battled the feeling of fatigue. I felt myself resisting and not wanting to stop pushing on with the continuing community building required.
Until I couldn't. And the cards I pulled to do a reading were very clear that it was time to rock in stillness, not time to rush around. Gathering energy, resting and restoring. Receiving nurturance. Ah, another lesson from the body's wisdom - for this eldest daughter with a tendance towards Army Sergeant Taskmaster behaviour (cracking the whip), it was difficult to realize I was stuck in the familiar trap of pushing the river, soldiering on long after the body was calling for surrender.
Sometimes after a deep dive into the psyche, or a long period of holding space while others do the deep dive, it is wise to hole up in your den and rest. It is wise to watch the transformation that has taken place as your leathery wings unfold behind you. It is wise to allow your howl to be released. You have returned from a dangerous journey, trailing scales and wing fragments. Your eyes reflect the moon.
