Its such a deep, deep day today. I know we are drawing closer to an eclipse. It is said that eclipse time the veils between the worlds thin. Earlier I wrote a blog which I sent to trash on reclaiming land from sea and about Mercury who with his winged sandles voyages between the two worlds. I awoke strung between waking reality and dream filled slumber trying to bridge and knit the worlds together with my breath. I worked on the dream images and resonance in the blog I sent to trash, my critic edited it and it seemed incomplete. Flash thought : Virgo = inner critic/inward discrimination/digestion process within which thoughts and feelings deep in the body are assimilated = upcoming eclipse.
I felt hunger pangs and a desire to call my Mum after feeling so sad about the styes in her eyes and we had an okay conversation but it prompted conflict feelings I shared in an earlier blog. I made breakfast and felt some tearing in my liquid body. And then put on London Grammar my favourite album which opens me to deep sea world, England, memories, soulful feelings and my liquid soul wants to dance but there is deep, deep grief there too longing, perhaps ancestral and a realisation of the fears that held me back on the brink, how my mother tried to help me in my confusion when I was not sure where I really belonged, my marriage had foundered on the rocks due to my deep fear of leaving her and my then alive disabled sister alone or emotionally abandoned, how Mum fell and broke her wrist and on my last visit home from the UK in 2001 hung her head and wept, of the deep grief and sense of responsibility I felt but the frustration too of longing for the dream life I had found in England, green fields, a Claude Butler bike that I could ride through fields of star like cow parsley, of the apple orchard, Granchester, the Backs, the flowing meadows littered with cows descendants maybe of the ones Sylvia Plath serenaded from the turnstile, bookshops where I could find the collected works of Jung but also of the three illnesses I suffered in that first harsh winter alone with a couple of my husbands friends I just felt so distant from emotionally. And of my first descent in therapy, the opening of a doorway of new possibility I closed perhaps due to so much fear. How small have I kept my life?
London Grammar the feeling of all of this is contained in the music I hear this morning and then I am overcome by the thought of my nephew I love so, the one who stood watching from behind the curtain as his father drove his mother to the airport in 1982 to board a plane with a one way ticket, but was then told she chose to leave when really she was sent back to us as life with her was too hard and of the image I saw of his young son now being held soon to turn 2 and my thoughts of how my nephew struggles now on meds with so little help from anyone to navigate the truth of a past and feelings so long buried and my heart longs for him in a way that a mother would, longs to hold him, to love him, to keep him safe from the pain of psychiatrists who would medicate him more, just as my sister was medicated. And worries when his son turns 6 the age he was when his mother left what that will trigger for him without awareness he is not fucking bi polar he has complex PTSD. All of this going round and round in my head until my body is doubled up over the iron board crying.
Its all so much to hold. The eclipse looms as Sun opposes Chiron in Pisces in the seventh house of my chart, soon to sit on Pluto lighting it up where the eclipse will open again and remove the veil from this familial ancestral underworld that I must navigate and know. What to do? To visit my nephew, in a place where words will never meet the pain. to stay safe here where I am protected?
So I fall to the ground to cuddle Jasper my dog, who seems to know and be so patient with all of his restless owners ups and downs but then move away so as not to overwhelm him and my spirit says to me Deborah write. Just put your hands to the keys and type. Do not keep it locked up inside of you. And it doesn’t matter what the judge or jury says just post it, its not for them anyway (although it kind of is) its for you, its for your ancestors and its for life which in some curious way is trying to find a way to unfold and unfurl a path before you.
And so I do encouraged by the little I have read of what DBC Pierre writes about in his book on writing. It only matters that we write, that we don’t let the critic block us and it doesn’t even matter if it doesn’t make sense to anyone else for whoever wants to be judge and jury can and we can write and process in just the way our souls show us that they need to despite the yammering voice of the critic that just runs on fear.