Homecoming

Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason.”
~ Novalis

The forest of my childhood
The forest of my childhood

Five years old, squatting on the ground under the leafy trees; building tiny cabins with fallen twigs: “I want to live there, become tiny and live there with all the tiny creatures of this forest”…there is no such thing as time, others are surreal: it’s only me and these trees. I had scattered memories of being here…forever

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Six years old, “mom, what if someone is dreaming about us and we are not real?” Looking at the sky, noticing the layers of clouds and beyond them, the infinite. Seeing the infinite. Staying out late, learning to be [not] alone but surrounded by all the beauty, the little critters, the stars, the immensity: knowing I’m not alone.

Me, six years old
Me, six years old

Let everything happen to you
Beauty and terror
Just keep going
No feeling is final

~ Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a young Poet

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10: “What if we are tiny cells in a giant body, what if this is just one of many universes, what if all what I´m learning is not how they say it is?”; Falling  asleep and dreaming that the moon has approached the Earth. It’s so vivid that I still remember: I could see it in front of me when I close my eyes, shining.

 

This is what the things can teach us: to fall, patiently to trust our heaviness. Even a bird has to do that before he can fly.”
~ Rainer Maria Rilke, Rilke’s Book of Hours: Love Poems to God

 

11, 12: drawing maps of nonexistent places; building pyramids with detailed plumbing and energy systems, hanging gardens, tunnels, surrounded by forests. Reading about ancient peoples and gods and old fashioned times when self reliance was part of life. Making friends with my own soul. “What if the image you see in the mirror and the one I see are not the same?” “What if you are not another girl but another me dressed up with a different face?”“How do I know my memories are mine and not coming from another [extinct] soul?”

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Why do you want to shut out of your life any uneasiness, any misery, any depression, since after all you don’t know what work these conditions are doing inside you? Why do you want to persecute yourself with the question of where all this is coming from and where it is going? Since you know, after all, that you are in the midst of transitions and you wished for nothing so much as to change. If there is anything unhealthy in your reactions, just bear in mind that sickness is the means by which an organism frees itself from what is alien; so one must simply help it to be sick, to have its whole sickness and to break out with it, since that is the way it gets better.”
~ Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

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Fast forward: sitting on a coach outside facing the wind that smells as rain.  The twigs are still on the ground, waiting for me to give them shape; the trees smile to this old friend, the moon hides behind the clouds; the old drawings resemble permaculture structures; the maps? …they are from another universe, before the jump across the black hole toward this galaxy: we are tiny cells in a huge body, in one of many universes across the space-time that isn’t.

Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. …live in the question.”
~ Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

I close the old book…there is no such thing as “I”.

The ¨torreon¨was real…and so all the rest

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The ¨torreon¨where we played in my childhood

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