Circle of Stones

February 20, 2011

A small extract from CIRCLE OF STONES, WOMANS JOURNEY TO HERSELF

Written by Judith Duerk

Woman, seeking sense of who she is, of how she wishes to live her daily life, letting its patterns and rhythms express her deepest values.  Woman, today under pressure, faced with the temptation today to live out her life in the realm of the masculine, denying her own needs, mistrusting her fatigue, ignoring the anguish of her own struggle

Her task will be to gain the help and support of her inner masculine side, and to return to the values of the Archetypal feminine as she ground her life in and order and clarity that nurture her.

A woman in this book, gifted with abundant creativity, never certain whether she possesses it, or it possesses her, wrote the following, this just leapt of the page to  me………

“For me the balance between doing and just being is the most important and dangerous question.  IF I am guilted or lured into achieving too much and lose the stillness in my centre, then it takes me a long time to regain it and I do violence to myself or those I love because of fatigue and pressure.

I have had to give up “winning big” because I love my life when I am connected to it.  I hate it when it and I get caught up in competition and deadlines. Then I have an overriding sense of impatience, my foot taps…….. I gulp down my food whole……… I spill coffee when I am pouring and burn myself on the stove…… I rip, and wrench and tear.  There is a violence that takes over every act and shrieks orders at me.

I am finding it takes a lot of time to be a woman, to have an inner feeling of space and breath, a chance to sink into myself……  as long as I take time to light a candle to my life, it remains my life.  But if I hurry into work without that small moment of quiet then I have already lost myself for the rest of the day.  The task for me is to care, daily, for myself and  my life….. to love and to nurture, within myself, moment by moment, the quality of quiet presence, quietly being present in my life, which sanctifies it,  to live as if the candle is alight

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Time is like a river

June 14, 2010

The Stone Child

June 14, 2010

The original abandonment, the original abuse, the original horror has some reason and meaning in it. It is not senseless. It is not like being run down like a dog on the highway. Its meaning most often is the development of tremendous strength, tremendous power, tremendous intuition. And I will tell you frankly that most of the people who are the greatest healers living on the face of this earth are unmothered children. One of the great gifts of the unmothered child – and also the healer, and the writer and the musician and all those in the arts who live so close with their ear against the heartbeat of the archetypal unconscious – one of their strongest aspects is intuition.”

Be proud of your scars. They have everything to do with your strength, and what you’ve endured. They’re a treasure map to the deep self.”

Quotes and story from WARMING THE STONE CHILD by CLARISSA PINKOLA ESTES

THE FOLLOWING STORY IS AN OLD INUIT TALE – Told by Clarissa Pinkola Estes on Audio CD  Warming the Stone child.  I recommend this , you can find it here

There was an orphan that was so lonely and so hungry that no one wanted to be near him.  His mouth was open all the time and his teeth were always showing and tears were always running down from his eyes, and he was so wild with hunger that they had to tie him in the entrance to one of the skin houses so he’d not try to eat the hunters on their way to the seal hunt; that’s how hungry he was.

They would, on occasion, leave him some rancid reindeer meat or maybe some spoiled intestines to eat, but, as we know, it was more than hunger that was gnawing at him.  Those deep needs that not even the person themselves understands.  So everyday he stretched his chain a little bit and a little bit more, until he could get near a stone that was more or less the same size as himself.  You see, his mother and father had died one night, and their bodies had been dragged off by bears, and all that had been left behind by them was this one particular stone.  So he wrapped both his arms and his legs around that rock and he wouldn’t let go of it.  And, of course, his people thought he was crazier than ever, and on their way home from the hunt, with animal carcasses slung over their shoulders, they would jeer at him, and they would say, “Analuk has taken a stone for a wife, ha ha.  It’s good for you to have a wife who is a stone, for then you cannot use your hunger and eat her.”  And they went on their way.

But the boy was so lonely and so hungry that he really had reached the end of his feeling for life.  And even though he had that terrible loneliness and that gnawing hunger, he kept his body wrapped around that stone, and because the stone began to take the heat from his flesh, the boy began to die.  The stone took the heat from his hands, and then it took the heat from his thighs, and it even took the heat from his chin where he rested it on top of the stone.

And just as the boy was living his last breath, the hunters of his village came by again on their way home from the hunt, and again they called him down, and they said, “You crazy boy!  You are nesting with that stone like it is an egg.  We should call you Bird Boy, you good-for-nothing creature.”  And because the boy was near death, his feelings were hurt more than he could ever say, and great icy tears began to roll down his face and across his parka, and his cold, cold tears hit the hot, hot stone with a sizzle and a hiss and a crack, and it broke the stone right in two.

And inside was the most perfect little female the boy could ever want.  “Come,” she said, “I am here now, and you are an orphan no more.”  And she gave him a bow and arrows and a harpoon she had brought with her, and the boy and the girl made their house and had babies.  And, if they are not yet dead, they are in that land where the snow is violet and the night sky is black.  They are there, living still.

Down in the woods today SF DSC_0574

the deep dark woods of our soul, do you go there, do you dare to go there?  are you afraid to enter into the menacing darkness that old folklore tells us not to enter for fear of death and destruction.  Little red riding hood met her wolf, Hansel and Gretel the wicked witch, Vasalis met Baba Yaga, but in those times of fear and death, wonderful seedlings grow, intuition to see the way back home to self to allow the dream of our becoming to emerge.

Mighty oaks from little acorns grow, so when you go for a walk in this deep dark woods of the soul, listen………… underfoot things are stirring.

“The greatest achievement was at first, and for a time a dream.  The oak sleeps in the acorn, the bird waits in the egg, and in the highest vision of the soul a waking angel stirs. Dreams are the seedlings of realities”

James Allen (statesman)

I took creative inspiration from the quote and created this image.  Its layered from photographs I have taken in nature, ferns unfurling, grasses swaying, teasels drying in the hot sun and sketches that I drew from my own souls journey . see more images click here http://www.carolgearing.com and http://www.flickr.com/photos/8853574@N03/

Love

March 21, 2009

love-sickRUMI QUOTE – on love

Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.

thinking from the heart

March 15, 2009

 

heart-energyCarl Jung – Extract from autobiographical book Memories, Dreams, Reflections

Conversation with Native American Chief, Ochwiay Biano.

‘See.’  Ochwiay Biano said, ‘how cruel the whites looks.  Their lips are thin and their noses are sharp, their faces furrowed and distorted by folds.  Their eyes have a staring expression; they are always seeking something.  What are they seeking? The whites always want something, they are always uneasy and restless.  We do not know what they want, we do not understand them.  We think that they are mad.’

I asked him why he thought the whites were all mad.

 ‘They say that they think with their heads,’ he replied.

 ‘Why, of course, what do you think with?’  I asked him in surprise.

We think here,’ he said, indicating his heart !

 

Chief Biano opened Yungs eyes to the limitation of western ‘Rational’ thinking.