|I understand some things now
||[31 Aug 2008|07:39pm]
from Hall, Noor. The Moon & the Virgin: Reflections on the Archetypal Feminine. New York: Harper & Row, 1980.
Section headings are mine, for ease of reading.
The drawing I have in mind is a series of circles representing stages of feminine development that are entered into, fully lived, and broken out of like eggs. There are three to start with: first, the perfect, all-embracing circle of mother containment that shelters a child in darkness and warmth. Next to it there is a second, somewhat ominous circle wrapped round with a snake that arches back to break into the mother circle as if to draw out the contents of the egg. This is the circle of the father that draws a girl into the world. The first circle is a form of self-conservation. The second is a form of invasion and self-surrender. The third circle is the one the woman draws around herself. It is a circle of self-realization that brushes up against the snake-entwined realm of the father as if it were still attracted to it and not quite able to spin on its own axis without the additional magnetic surge of positive and repellent contact. In this chapter I will try to describe the compelling nature of these highly charged points fo contact, where the girl's life intersects the masculine principle which pulls her toward surrender and realization. The experience of self-surrender, which Artemis, the original "conservationist," does not know, characterizes the psychic life of the hetaira (companion), the "father's daughter," whose surrender is inevitably to relationship.
( The UroborosCollapse )
( RapunzelCollapse )
( EnraptureCollapse )
( The Handless MaidenCollapse )( AphroditeCollapse )
( The Wise and Foolish HetairaCollapse )
( The Hetaira in Modern Western SocietyCollapse )
( Escape Into Work Collapse )
||[08 Apr 2008|01:16pm]
Whan that aprill with his shoures soote
The droghte of march hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
Whan zephirus eek with his sweete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
Tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the ram his halve cours yronne,
And smale foweles maken melodye,
That slepen al the nyght with open ye
(so priketh hem nature in hir corages);
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,
And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes,
To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes...
|Writing the Memoir: Judith Barrington
||[04 Apr 2008|01:08pm]
TOC for Writing the Memoir (just to jog my memory)
What Is Memoir?
Who Cares? And Other Thoughts on Getting Started
The Truth: What, Why, and How?
Scene, Summary, and Musing
Moving Around in Time
Using Your Senses
Writing About Living People
Your Memoir and the World
Watch Out for the Myths
|Tintern Abbey: Wordsworth
||[15 Mar 2008|12:37pm]
FIVE years have past; five summers, with the length
Of five long winters! and again I hear
These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs
With a soft inland murmur. -- Once again
Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,
That on a wild secluded scene impress
Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect
The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
The day is come when I again repose
Here, under this dark sycamore, and view
These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts,
Which at this season, with their unripe fruits,
Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves
'Mid groves and copses. Once again I see
These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines
Of sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms,
Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke
Sent up, in silence, from among the trees!
With some uncertain notice, as might seem
Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods,
Or of some Hermit's cave, where by his fire
The Hermit sits alone.
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