Oh thank youOh thank you for my music-catchers, curled gateway and tunnel to tiny bonesthat rattle and articulate waves todelicious-grokked interpretations ofBach, Dylan, Mitchell, Mitski, Hiatt.Oh thank you for my color-catchers,rods and cones spin myriad rainbowdelineations and blends, stroked byherds of domesticated and wild brushesin hands of VanGogh, Kahlo, and Klint.Oh thank you for my…
Tag: Dr. Clarissa Pinkola-Estes
dVerse — Prosery — Crone Power
Traffic holding its breath, Sky a tense diaphragm –Seamus Heaney, from Twice Shy Madge returned to her cubicle after a carb-rich lunch with co-workers. She plopped into the ergonomic chair that often made things too comfortable – like today. The rhythmic movement of her head swiveling between hard copy and digital data on the twenty-inch…
Myths: The Bell Underground and Los Zapatitos, as paraphrased by me from the lecture by Dr. Clarissa Pinkola-Estes from her Mother Night lecture series
image link The Bell Underground and Los Zapatitos myth/story paraphrased from what is told by Clarissa Pinkola-Estes from her, “Mother Night” series of lectures An old man was sleeping in his small village in his little bed in his small home when he heard the sweet pealing of a bell. He threw on his night…
Quote of the Day 020123 — Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Clarissa Pinkola Estés (born January 27, 1945) is a first-generation American writer and Jungian psychoanalyst. She is the author of Women Who Run with the Wolves (1992), which remained on the New York Times bestseller list for 145 weeks and has sold over two million copies. Estés was born in Gary, Indiana, to Emilio Maria…
dVerse — Poetics — Harvester
hourglass flips I’m on my way to dormiveglia. sage smoke vespers propel my orenda, a shimmer globe, among cloud trails. scavenging flotsam from former scales and jetsam tossed to eddies, I’m adrift in mother night’s owl-winged domain. golden harvests of ageless symbols; chits — gathered fruit of querencia tree Dormiveglia – (n.) the space that…
dVerse — Poetics — The Wells that Never Empty
The Muses who inspire do not abandon me;round the clock they tick, sparked heartbeatsthat draw the world ever closer in varied splendor:morning’s cooled dew in Summer,pink snow of sunrise in Winter,the earth-toned blanket of Fall,and the creeping green of Spring. At dusk’s change of shift, I listen for the wingsof Mother Night as she travels…
dVerse — MTB — A Blessing and a Curse
The idea in our culture of body solely as sculpture is wrong. Body is not marble. That is not its purpose. Its purpose is to protect, contain, support and fire the spirit and soul within it, to be a repository for memory, to fill us with feeling – that is the supreme psychic nourishment. It…
Tao Talk 