Wednesday, August 12, 2015
I really want to tell you where I am when I am not here.
At the end of the day, when I have done everything I can to ensure my family's smooth transition through their daily lives and when -- if I am lucky -- I have written all that is ready to be (re)written of my novel, I have a choice: I can sit at my computer and try and describe where I am; or I can read a bit then fall asleep.
This year, sleep has been winning out, every time. Usually around 9pm.
But today feels different. Is anyone else in the midst of a frenetic burst of activity this week? I am not sure if it is a celestial phenomenon, but I keep hearing how people around me are clearing things out, ticking longstanding items off To Do lists, moving forwards on projects that have otherwise been stagnating.
For me, this past week has included lodging my Tax Return, writing and sending twelve letters, getting a stack of PDFs printed, finalising details for a forthcoming family holiday, and a larger than usual amount of laundry. And now, I find myself sitting here, with energy and enthusiasm for my blog... something I haven't felt in a while.
So I'm just going to ride that wild pony... whilst attempting to set limits so that the inevitable crash is not so spectacular.
I really want to tell you about the funny old space I have been dwelling in.
I really want to share some of the things I've been finding -- in books -- and the way in which they are resonating with me. Over the next few days, I'll be posting snippets here and there, as a way of trying to make sense of it all.
I really want to say three things first.
One is that I know that a handful of popular books does not a theologian make. This is not a deep, balanced or scholarly representation. It's just a bunch of stuff that has come my way that I'm really digging. If it arouses strong feelings in you, then I openly invite you to share, particularly if you've come across other sources that will shed more light on the topic.
Two is also on the topic of strong feelings. I am going to share a couple of snippets from the work of Marion Zimmer Bradley. When I first read her fiction, I knew nothing about her personal life. Her work made a huge impression on me. Then I discovered that she and her husband committed unforgivable, abhorrent crimes that devastated the lives of vulnerable children (including their own daughter). Despite being a good student of postmodern theory, I am here to advise you that Death of the Author is crap: my newfound knowledge totally took the shine off the book for me. In fact, it rendered some elements of the plot irredeemably unsavoury.
That said, there are aspects of one novel that describe beautifully something I have long suspected but have not been able to articulate. So I plan to share these too. To anyone who feels triggered or outraged by this, I take full responsibility and ask you to accept my heartfelt apologies.
Three, I've found myself curious about what is actually coming up for me in the midst of this research. It feels like a calling to delve into my family tree. It is reverberating on a cellular level. I recall my Swan Blessing experience and wonder about ancestral memory. Up until now, it has been a story that has held little to no interest. In fact, quite the opposite (have I ever mentioned my irrational disdain for England?).
Now I am being called into the mist and I see a map of my past and future forming and I can't help but wonder if this happens to everybody who stumbles across these stories... kind of like a Messiah Complex for the Sacred Feminine (a Magdalen Complex?).
And on that note, I think I'll just sign off and start leaving breadcrumbs...