my mother's house- notions of space

I wonder if anyone else dreams of spaces, layouts, blueprints, MAPS as much as I.  It seems that every morning I am sketching out a map of the spaces within my dreams:

dream map from last night

because it is that relevant- things, people, are often "on the left" or "down two steps", sub-level, walled, steep, or behind.  They have some specific feeling of space; a relationship of myself in regards to a person or a structure or surrounding scenery.

This could be exacerbated by my current read. I don't read very fast- I let it sink in good and deep, absorb it as if by my pores, let it assimilate in my organs, self, essence.  If a book doesn't seize me immediately, I have no qualms moving on from it without finishing.  Its kind of 'love at first sight'-y, my approach to books (and I won't deny I approach other things this way as well...).

Right now I'm intoxicated by my latest juicy introvert book: The Poetics of Space by French philosopher Gaston Bachelard. He describes the nature of homes, both structurally and metaphorically, describing how our homes and structures of [day]dreams are influenced by literal experiences with homes and structures of all kinds.  Quickly the concept of home becomes exponentially more complicated, both as concrete structure constructed by nature or by man and as metaphorical, oneiric structures constructed in the imagination or [day]dream of man's mind. 

I've always thought there was something unexplainable about returning to the home of one's upbringing.  Whenever I have found myself visiting my mother in that home of youth in previous years, I have struggled not to transform into this other version of myself, somehow antiquated, youthful, outdated.  Simply 'different'.  There's so much history in that structure, those rooms, the things that decorate it, that my [day]dreaming mind was swept to another place.  How can one's experience of a space not be colored by previous experiences in that space, or prior ideas about that space?  It seemed each time my mind wanted to go to the same little blink in history and dwell there, conjuring all these teenage connotations of the rooms, the walls, the smells, the contents.

This time I'm here with earnest purpose, serious shift of roles and expectations...and the coloring of visits-passed has changed.   Now more than usual I'm noticing the beauty in this space, this structure, and my mind's dream of this space now and before.  The birds sing eloquently outside my old bedroom window, and the winds are strong yet gently engulfing.  The greens are greener than I remember, and a passing breeze carries my mother's smell past my nose.  And instead of associations of adolescent rebellion, feelings of stagnant qi trapped in decades gone by, I conjure ease, a smile and momentary sense of comfort here.

cobalt blue

daffodil yellow, orange

terra cotta, seafoam green and lantern lit long ago

commemorating gardens-passed

a friendly glance from my cat, phoenix

a piece given to her years ago ('begin well with you', 2009)

 *friends and family: enter through the back door~

accidental poetry #6

Denali Highway, Alaska, 2am. circa 2007

night:

life, not as a ghastly object

half formed

(assembled from gathered text  fallen, collected, reassembled March 29-31, 2011)

Elephantine

I'm feeling a little blog-blocked.

I have been feeling this looming sense of obligation to my monthly quota of posts, but nothing is really calling to me.  So, like the morning pages ritual, I'll just begin...

I have spent a lot of spring break in solitude or engaged in social play with my most treasured peeps.  I have had time to wander, rest, sit with myself, read for pleasure, watch entire movies, model for a photo shoot and still carve out substantial creative time.  It is glorious.  The tension that typically resides in my shoulders melted away, the aggravation in my stomach subsided, and the crick in my neck-back released.  I have been writing poetry and morning pages, letting my computer-face hibernate.  And willingly.

But as the saying goes "all good things must end"...

So now I am warding off this penetrating persistent irritability with everything.  I crave spring weather (where IS it?),  I'm itching to travel and feeling stuck right here.  I need an adventure, some spontaneity, a bit of fresh stimuli for my artist-self.  My soul wants to believe that life can feel like spring break; that spring break doesn't have to be just a little glimpse of bliss we cling onto until our fingers cramp and we fall back into reality and then mourn its passing and try to climb up, up to that apex where we can see the "break" and wait for it to roll around again.  My soul needs to believe that the bulk of life can resemble the gratification and contentment that coincides with [my] spring break.  The percentage of enjoyable days versus challenging ones should be inversely proportional to the way I experience them now.  But maybe it is just my frame of mind that leaves me trapped...

Regardless, I think I am undergoing this growth spurt of psychic proportions- growing more like an elephant in size- Ganeshian- crammed behind a tiny desk in a tiny windowless room too small for my epic proportion, eating snacks all day and glazed over by this bright white screen, hum.

daydreaming elephant sketch, March 2011 (soon to become a painting!)

Along with growth come the growing pains, the irritability and the agitation of shifting, of accepting something new and unknown.  I am trying to take it all in and then let it rest within me; trying to acknowledge the input, the awareness, the sense of aggravation and make sense of it all as best I can.

winnowing, 2009. print for Air Exchange- Four Oceans Press

Speaking of elephants, the story of Ganesh came up in my yoga practice last week, and in my dream not long thereafter: I was putting on a giant elephant head mask to go parading in the streets with two youth in costume, one male, one female..."who cares" [what people think of us] we said, its trite anyway...let's just get on with expressing ourselves...

Suddenly as I write this, having had no direction for the content of this post as I began typing away, it hits me: I need to own and share the story of Ganesh and accept the elephant as my totem.  It seems to be choosing me after all....

sketch for totem, December 2010

Ganesh:  In Hindu myth, Ganesh was born of Shiva and Parvathi, the divine couple who lived atop the snowy mountain called Kailash.  Lord Shiva went away to war, leaving his beloved wife alone.  Parvathi decided that to protect herself she would birth a son to guard the door to her palace home (goddesses have the power to do this).  Parvathi created him from mud or soap or turmeric paste.  She gave strict instructions to Ganesh to allow no one to enter without her consent, and retreated to have a bath.
Eventually Shiva returned from war to his home on the mountain and as he tried to enter the house, Ganesha stopped him. Shiva was infuriated at this strange little boy who dared to challenge him. He told Ganesh that he was Parvati's husband, and demanded that Ganesh let him go in. But Ganesh would not hear any person's word other than his dear mother's. Shiva got angry and impatient and cut off the boy's head.  Parvathi, upon seeing this, was saddened and infuriated, and she demanded that Shiva take the head from the first living thing he saw to replace her poor son's head.  The first thing he came across was an elephant.


Ganesh is said to be the 'remover of all obstacles' , the Lord of Beginnings, but also the obstacle itself.  This dual nature suggests a specific way of viewing obstacles: as having a purpose to lead one to a greater____(insert awareness, understanding, freedom from something...new beginning).   According to some interpretations of the story, the decapitation of the stubborn boy's head symbolizes the loss of the limited individual egotistical mind- "the murky cloud of the ego", and the elephant head symbolizes the true self, or the 'universal ego' of connectedness; a Universal Self.  Through the severing of the individual ego and the attainment of Universal ego, one is renewed and better able to serve "creation" (i.e. creativity).  The ego certainly is an obstacle, and the understanding of (i.e. removal of) this trait is freeing.  Hence Ganesha's is both the obstacle and the remover of obstacle.

sketch for "Ganesh", completed today 4/5/11

 In my hipster summary of the moral of the story of Ganesh: "Toss the ego aside and sport the true self"...grow into your elephantine proportions!