tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34951709251823855242024-03-12T21:58:32.584-07:00The Red Coat Writer"In Life, Each Must Sew Her Own"The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3495170925182385524.post-43150779294003224212017-05-09T03:27:00.002-07:002018-03-21T00:40:28.735-07:00Feminism Is<style>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDjL-jOSeOzt4NokzC_-sRxUwFzyLqkRwXjlL6APD7NwpBUAPIVmeATxfwmS5TTBS_OM9iBw-QX_p9zDL053JY7FV-FtZm92QKhyphenhyphengv2vDwLxosbWmRpiTco2Tm6TpquHfykz9okBdyrko/s1600/IMG_3667.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDjL-jOSeOzt4NokzC_-sRxUwFzyLqkRwXjlL6APD7NwpBUAPIVmeATxfwmS5TTBS_OM9iBw-QX_p9zDL053JY7FV-FtZm92QKhyphenhyphengv2vDwLxosbWmRpiTco2Tm6TpquHfykz9okBdyrko/s640/IMG_3667.JPG" width="412" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> The dictionary definition works for me:</span></div>
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</span></div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">“fem-i-nism – n. 1. a
doctrine advocating social, political, and economic rights for women equal to
those of men. 2. a movement for the attainment of such rights.”</span></div>
</blockquote>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">poster available <a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/529765859/mothers-day-friendship-album-applique?ref=listing-shop-header-0" target="_blank">here</a></span></span></div>
The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3495170925182385524.post-8903537092194913242017-04-19T20:38:00.002-07:002018-10-08T11:40:15.972-07:00The Simple ABC<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_-es4S6KuSSUKNEBy5nerLHEmcgFIjqt1BJyEYimfDecfUx0mYC6X62kJcQYIDlJ57TK87nFkh_1YMkJxqs3clMZlsqZj0agwxf9o6qYAzQqEabijHVPwW7T5GGU0iZayFrgMw-rRxTM/s1600/job_113+Education+is+a+Prerequisite+copy+v4+FINAL%255B8+MB%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_-es4S6KuSSUKNEBy5nerLHEmcgFIjqt1BJyEYimfDecfUx0mYC6X62kJcQYIDlJ57TK87nFkh_1YMkJxqs3clMZlsqZj0agwxf9o6qYAzQqEabijHVPwW7T5GGU0iZayFrgMw-rRxTM/s640/job_113+Education+is+a+Prerequisite+copy+v4+FINAL%255B8+MB%255D.jpg" width="414" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;">When you set about to make a quilt, you usually have some
goal in mind – to recycle those old sewing scraps, decorate the house, welcome
a newborn baby, celebrate a wedding, an anniversary, or a life-long
friendship. The end is informed by your intention at the start.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;">The same can be said of an education. What you end
up with depends on why you started: to make more money, to improve your mind,
to master a skill.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Studies show that a college education increases self-confidence
and leads to better pay and more prestigious employment, greater job
satisfaction, greater social mobility, a longer life span, improved health
care, less chance of incarceration or dependence on government assistance,
greater appreciation of the arts and sciences, more volunteer service and
higher positions of leadership.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Education is the best investment a young person can make in his or her
future. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;">People who have knowledge and skills, who are able to
think clearly and to express their thoughts in speech and in writing, make
better citizens too. They are better able to understand themselves and
the world around them and thus make more informed decisions. Educated
people also have higher voting rates. In fact, the single most important
socio-economic factor affecting voter turnout is education. The more
educated a person is the more likely he or she is to vote.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Education is good for democracy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;">The Founding Fathers understood this. After the
American Revolution (1776), Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, John Adams and
other American patriots saw public education as the most effective means of
protecting against tyranny and preserving the democratic ideals the original 13
colonies had fought so hard for and won.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Not </span><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;">long after United States was founded, there was a call
for public financing of education. The aim was to instill civic virtues
as much as learning and the advancement of ideas, and it was important that
education be universal, non-sectarian – and free.</span>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;">The whole people must take upon themselves the education
of the whole people and be willing to bear the expenses of it. There should not
be a district of one square, without a school in it, not founded by a
charitable individual, but maintained at the public expense of the people
themselves. - John Adams, U.S. President, 1785</span><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;"></span></div>
</blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Indeed, the Founding Fathers saw education as a
prerequisite for good citizenship.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Among those who have been denied an education, none have written more powerfully as to the power of the
simple ABCs as Frederick Douglass, an American slave.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 11pt;">In his book, Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass,
An American Slave, Douglass describes the new life he came to at age seven when
he was sold from the plantation where he was born and came to live in Baltimore
in 1825: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Very soon after I went to live with Mr. and Mrs. Auld, she
very kindly commenced to teach me the A,B,C. After I had learned this, she
assisted me in learning to spell words of three or four letters. Just at
this point of my progress, Mr. Auld found out what was going on and at once
forbade Mrs. Auld to instruct me further, telling her, among other things, that
it was unlawful, as well as unsafe, to teach a slave to read. To use his
own words, further, he said "If you give a nigger an inch, he will take an
ell. A nigger should know nothing but to obey his master – to do as he is told
to do. Learning would spoil the best nigger in the world. Now," said he,
"if you teach that nigger (speaking of myself) how to read, there would be
no keeping him. It would forever unfit him to be a slave. He would
at once become unmanageable, and of no value to his master. As to himself, it
could do him no good, but a great deal of harm. It would make him discontented
and unhappy." These words sank deep into my heart, stirred up sentiments
within that lay slumbering, and called into existence an entirely new train of
thought. It was a new and special revelation, explaining dark and mysterious
things, with which my youthful understanding had struggled, but struggled in
vain. I now understood what had been to me a most perplexing difficulty –
to wit, the white man’s power to enslave the black man. It was a grand
achievement, and I prized it highly. From that moment, I understood the pathway
from slavery to freedom... Though conscious of the difficulty of learning without
a teacher, I set out with high hope, and a fixed purpose, at whatever cost of
trouble, to learn how to read.</span></div>
</blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;"> It is to the memory of Mr. Douglass and my deep respect
for him and his fixed purpose that I have made this ABC quilt.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11.0pt;">What purpose is behind your education?</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana";"><span style="font-size: x-small;">poster available <a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/511779695/abc-public-education-earth-day-poster?ref=shop_home_active_5" target="_blank">here</a></span> </span></div>
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The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3495170925182385524.post-722387860248056802017-01-16T22:35:00.002-08:002021-01-21T12:40:00.577-08:00Out of Many, One<style>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11pt;">The Great Seal of the United States adopted by Congress in
1782 features an American bald eagle with a red white and blue shield on its
breast holding a bundle of arrows in its left talon and an olive branch, an
ancient symbol of peace, in its right. The eagle, with its great wings
outstretched to denote liberty and freedom, has turned its gaze toward peace.
In its beak, is a scroll, inscribed with the motto: “E pluribus unum,” which
translated from the Latin means “out of many, one.” </span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11pt;">When it first appeared in a literary magazine in the
1770s, the motto was accompanied by a drawing of a hand holding a bouquet of
varied flowers, suggesting that unity and individuality can co-exist – a very
different metaphor from a “melting pot” where the individual parts eventually
become indistinguishable from one another. The motto as included on
the national seal came to refer to the union between the states and the federal
government, but in early drawings of the seal, it evoked as well the six
European nations that had settled North America: the rose (England), thistle
(Scotland), harp (Ireland), fleur-de-lis (France), lion (Holland), an imperial
eagle (Germany). </span><br />
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11pt;">The motto describes an action: many uniting as one.
Unity is an action, a power of the soul and the spirit. It requires
individuals to stand up as individuals, and the whole to embrace them. It
is a call to action at the foundation of our republic. It is the cause of
our liberty and our freedom and it requires courage, tolerance, care,
responsibility, respect and knowledge. </span><br />
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 11pt;">After the Revolutionary War, women began to sew quilts
with patriotic themes. Pieced or appliquéd quilts (also known as
patchwork quilts) featuring the American Flag, the Liberty Bell, and the
American eagle became especially popular in times of national emergency or
celebration, such as the Civil War or the Bicentennial. In these
patchwork quilts, hundreds of small pieces in varied shapes, sizes, colors and
patterns were sewn together to form a large and useful covering, but the beauty
of the quilt is the unity created by the composition of the many patches, and
the strength is its firm backing, its strong binding and thread.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<h3><br /></h3><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div style="text-align: center;"><h3><span style="font-family: arial;">
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The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3495170925182385524.post-63656082877642781632016-11-12T14:34:00.001-08:002018-10-08T11:41:14.243-07:00The Light Shines<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana";">I grew up in a
semi-rural community just outside of Detroit. My mom worked as a clerk in the
building department at city hall and wrote poetry and political satire at
night. My dad drove a truck. We lived in an old farmhouse on a
couple acres of land, just far enough away from the neighbors, mom always said,
on a mile square tract of fields plowed with rows of corn and soybean and
bisected by the old county ditch running through it. </span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana";">Bleakness hung in
the air. There was a perpetual cloud over the house, not quite darkness nor yet
cloudburst that might flush away the blue-collar gloom, but instead a paradox
of inchoate form and overfullness that never gave birth hanging heavy with the
smell of boiling cabbage, gravel and ash, axle grease and dirt.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana";">Wintertime was my favorite season. The bare trees standing in the oblique light expressed something inside me that I could not. I was the immigrant’s daughter, my
father from a land across an ocean, whose grandmothers had stood upon a black
earth “sown with bones and watered with blood” in the catastrophe that had
befallen Europe between Stalin and Hitler.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana";">It was impossible
to turn a blind eye to suffering and to the dark world of the human
heart. One could see it sometime in the people, those who sought money
and power and held a hand over the bent heads of others. My father would
point it out, commenting in his oblique way, “the hand goes to the
mouth.” And I felt the shame of being human, trying to recall the better parts
of myself, knowing darkness was there in all of us. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana";">What is
wisdom? What is noble?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana";">St. Augustine said
that God gave man memory so that he might find the light inside him through the
act of remembering.</span></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times";"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana";">If we remember
that we have forgotten something, we have not forgotten it entirely. But
if we have forgotten altogether, we shall not be in a position to search for
it."</span></span></div>
</blockquote>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana";">Remembering leads
back to a beginning, to the truth, as we recall the steps we took that got us
where we are.</span></span><br />
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The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3495170925182385524.post-6595421150826733002016-05-21T21:52:00.004-07:002023-07-31T01:48:50.058-07:00In Life, Each Must Sew Her Own<style>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh33Yd6hE6MGrZlP8NJ6YEkwp9SRQYHOEXQIfH99M82ozJw-uOt8YFGOBxyDETEYxBRJeFx9GRV1DdvPPLbar3eYIhyphenhyphen9cknpGGR0OE8TTYTy-Z7hgoGhjmVVPiWtiosW_621KiabFA2IP8/s1600/360656_Dual_r4.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh33Yd6hE6MGrZlP8NJ6YEkwp9SRQYHOEXQIfH99M82ozJw-uOt8YFGOBxyDETEYxBRJeFx9GRV1DdvPPLbar3eYIhyphenhyphen9cknpGGR0OE8TTYTy-Z7hgoGhjmVVPiWtiosW_621KiabFA2IP8/s640/360656_Dual_r4.jpg" width="412" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">She
in her magnificent robe takes up half the sky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She is a protectress, still and silent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Loving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her arms, spread like
sturdy boughs, invite me to come and shelter there under her mantle of shade
and solace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I
seek her comfort and her strength.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Still, I yearn to stand on my own and give form to something inside of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How am I to make the thing called me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How am I to know who I am and clothe myself
with grace and elan?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">In
his writings on faith, Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard says that the
secret is that everyone must sew it for himself, the costume that one must wear
in life. The coat in that old fairy tale, the thread of which is spun with tears
and bleached by tears, is sewn in tears, but the garment gives better
protection than iron and steel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The
catch is, you have to sew it for yourself.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">You
were given the material: a life, which is your fabric.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps you wove that cloth yourself from threads
that were handed you, be it cotton, wool or silk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All cloth is not the same and what you start
with is always reflected in the end, but it is up to you to work it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some cloth is suitable for making work
clothes, some for jackets that are lightweight and travel well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some are best used for sportswear or tailored
suits or delicate underthings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some can
hold a pleat while others find form in soft, billowing gathers that come to
life in evening gowns.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Others are fit
for a queen’s mantle or the cloak of Mother Mary, The Protectress.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">However
you decide to work your cloth, whether to go with or against the grain or to
cut along a pattern line or on a whim, ultimately, it is up to you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You choose the thing to do and make it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nonetheless, every seamstress knows that a
good result does not always come to the one who labors for it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In life, there are no guarantees a thing will
turn out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But in the spiritual world, the
part we clothe with our inner work, anything is possible. There, the result
is always commensurate with our effort.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">For
Kierkegaard, the coat made from our tears is completed by a marvelous leap, one
filled with vacillation, fear and dread.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The trick, he says, is not just to take the leap but to believe, on the
strength of the absurd, that the ground will appear and you will safely land,
which, for all the world, may seem as ordinary as day but for the one who leaps
there is no greater task of existence, requiring immense courage, trust and
devotion.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">To
perceive the impossibility of a thing and to live joyfully and happily in the belief
that it will happen anyway is a costume I foolishly construct on my very best
days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whether it will ever be finished, God
only knows.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: x-small; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><a href="https://www.etsy.com/people/theredcoatwriter?ref=hdr_user_menu">Poster available here</a></span></div>
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The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3495170925182385524.post-8216089521365556792013-01-21T21:33:00.000-08:002016-11-13T04:02:21.695-08:00The Power to Stand Apart<style>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1N0QHGbsLy8iHWK1UZmd2fYFOXdpbyucd9T5wcgJoxhPtEEnfqScJsn_I7Zfsw7V55GORktqPpAGBhfnpoLwmsG-bllKCG_5FGGyRDWuj-5lLTyC4goGr0Aq7_WwiEVbPltobXm_rVfI/s1600/Vassilisa.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1N0QHGbsLy8iHWK1UZmd2fYFOXdpbyucd9T5wcgJoxhPtEEnfqScJsn_I7Zfsw7V55GORktqPpAGBhfnpoLwmsG-bllKCG_5FGGyRDWuj-5lLTyC4goGr0Aq7_WwiEVbPltobXm_rVfI/s400/Vassilisa.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>illustration by Ivan Bilibin</i></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>A merchant and his wife had a daughter <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">named</span> Vassilisa. When the girl was eight years old, the mother fell gravely ill. On her deathbed, <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">the mother</span> gave the girl a blessing
and a wooden doll. “Care for it and keep it with you always, and
whenever you are in trouble it will help you,” she told the child and then she
died. After a time, the girl’s
father remarried and with the help of the doll Vassilisa was able to perform
the <span style="font-size: small;">endless </span>tasks imposed on her by her cruel stepmother and two lazy stepsisters. One day, when the father had gone on a long
journey, the stepmother put out all the lights in the house and ordered Vassilisa
to fetch the fire from Baba Yaga’s hut deep within the forest, knowing that
whomsoever should enter the lair of Baba Yaga would be eaten by the witch. The girl consulted the doll who advised
her to go. “Never fear,” said the doll to Vassilisa. “Keep me always beside
you, and you will be all right.” So<span style="font-size: small;"> </span>Vassilisa slipped the doll in her apron pocket
and went into the forest. At
nightfall, Vas<span style="font-size: small;">silisa</span> found the hut of Baba Yaga. “It is I, grandmother,” she called out. The skulls on the old witch’s fence
began to glow. “What do you want?” Baba Yaga growled from inside the hut. “My stepmother sent me to ask you for fire
to light <span style="font-size: small;">our</span> house,” Vassilisa replied, bowing low. “Very well,” <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">said</span> Baba
Yaga emerging from the hut and she invited the girl to come inside. That night, with the help of the doll, Vassilisa
performed all of the tasks the witch had set for her on pain of death so that,
marveling, the old crone wondered the next day how the girl had survived. ”By my mother’s blessing,” the girl
replied. “Is that so!” Baba Yaga <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">shrieked</span> and, pushing Vassilisa out the doo<span style="font-size: small;">r<span style="font-size: small;">,</span> </span>grabbed a skull lantern with glowing eyes from the fencepost and thrust it at
her. “Here is the fire you came
for.” When Vassilisa returned
home, the eyes from the lantern fixed themselves onto her stepmother and
stepsisters and burnt them all to ashes.
Vassilisa buried the lantern and went to live with an old woman she
knew. One<span style="font-size: small;"> day</span>,
wishing to do something to pass the time, <span style="font-size: small;">Vassilisa </span>asked the doll to fashion her a
loom. By the end of that winter
Vassilisa had made so much fine cloth that she went to sell it in the capital
where her work was admired by the Tsar and he married her. </i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In this Russian version of the Cinderella fairytale, the doll
is the symbol of the young self as it separates from the mother and learns to stand
on its own. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Women are more relationship-oriented than men and have more difficulty distinguishing themselves from others of their sex, especially from
their mothers. They are more prone to losing themselves in relationship. So in the story, when the mother dies,
the daughter is suddenly confronted with the task of finding her own identity,
which is the great problem in feminine psychology, according to Jungian analyst
Marie-Louise von Franz. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In her book, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Feminine-Fairy-Tales-Marie-Louise-Franz/dp/157062609X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1358829669&sr=1-1&keywords=the+feminine+in+fairy+tales" target="_blank">The Feminine in Fairy Tales</a>,</i> von Franz notes how girls go about in pairs, copying
each other’s hairstyles, dress and even their way of talking. The fact that girls have trouble sorting
out who is who accounts, she says, for certain catty or spiteful behavior:</span></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Because they are so apt to identify, they malign each
other behind their backs. Being
unconscious of their own unique personality, they indulge in all such tricks in
order to make a separation.</span></span></div>
</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The cruelty exhibited by the stepmother is an example of
this. The stepmother’s value of herself is mixed up with the stepdaughter. The older woman does not appreciate her own <span style="font-size: small;">wo<span style="font-size: small;">rth</span></span> and tries
to do away with the girl so that her ego can survive. The stepmother has no desire for insight into the problem
either, as symbolized by her putting out all the lights in the house and sending the girl away. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Vassilisa, on the other hand, chooses another path. Strengthened by her mother’s positive
blessing (symbolized by the doll), the girl bravely accepts the difficult course
of individuation.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The daughter’s task of finding “her own femininity in her
own form” – as von Franz puts the problem – is presented at the mother’s death,
when the girl is eight years old, a time when a child is just beginning to experience
a sense of self. Instead of seeing
herself through her own eyes, or through the eyes of her mother (with whom
until now she was one), the child begins to realize that there are “others” who are
separate and apart from her.
Indeed, it is as if her consciousness has sp<span style="font-size: small;">lit</span> in two and she now
experiences herself as she imagines others see her. This is the birth of self-consciousness. But Vassilisa
goes even further. When confronted
at this tender moment with the malignant force personified by the stepfamily,
the doll instructs the girl to go deep into the forest – to face the
witch.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is no coincidence. According to von Franz “that
first intuitive realization of the Self”—much more profound than mere
self-consciousness – is always accompanied by the appearance of the powers of
darkness and desolation. “Where the pearl is,” she says, “There is also the
dragon, and vice versa. They are
never separate.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Put another way, there can be no birth of the Self
without an encounter with and insight into the shadow. Vassilisa instinctively
knows that in order to be released from the dark forces that surround her,
she must face them. The girl’s
discussion with the doll as to whether to enter the forest is an example of the
conscious decision to do so.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Baba Yaga is not an entirely evil figure, however. In fact, Vassilisa calls her
grandmother. Her
power, exemplified by the staring eyes of the skull, symbolize what
S<span style="font-size: small;">y</span>lvia Brinton Perera in her book <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Descent-Goddess-Initiation-published-Paperback/dp/B008TC5CNQ/ref=sr_1_7?ie=UTF8&qid=1358829612&sr=8-7&keywords=descent+to+the+goddess+perera" target="_blank"><i>Descent to the Goddess: A Way of Initiation for Women</i></a> calls “the cold yin of
Erishkigal’s vision,” Erishkigal being the Sumerian goddess who survives alone,
Queen of the Underworld, cold, brutal and uncaring, completely detached from
others, stuck in childbirth<span style="font-size: small;">, </span>groaning in pain and deepest despair. Here, <span style="font-size: small;">i<span style="font-size: small;">n these cold chambers</span>, </span>there is
a complete standstill “where all is miasmic and inhuman and inchoate.” There is no hope of “effective, yang
answer” as Brinton puts it, “no way out by work or will.” And yet, as the story shows, the encounter
with and indeed acceptance of the cold, dark goddess, exemplified in Vassilisa’s
story by her willingness to conf<span style="font-size: small;">ront </span>Baba Yaga leads to illumination and rebirth. </span> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">How does Vassilisa do it? </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">She holds on to her self (<i>care for it and keep it with you always</i>). </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Too often women lose themselves in relationship, giving
in to the urge to merge with another in love, or denying parts of themselves, especially
th<span style="font-size: small;">at</span> cold impersonal potency symbolized by the staring skull lantern,
frightened no doubt by its powerful effect.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Letting go of sentimental forms of loving and the
sense of well being she may have once gotten from being merely agreeable <span style="font-size: small;">or</span>
loyal <span style="font-size: small;">or</span> good, Vassilisa claims her right to fire and s<span style="font-size: small;">urvives</span> the night in Baba Yaga’s hut. I<span style="font-size: small;">t is her birthright<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> a</span>nd she owns it<span style="font-size: small;">, <span style="font-size: small;">p<span style="font-size: small;">roclai<span style="font-size: small;">ming<span style="font-size: small;"> that she has come through the night "by my mother's blessing<span style="font-size: small;">," whereupon she is immediately released from possession by the witch - and from the bondage of her cruel stepmother.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The story teaches us that to become a graceful, whole and
self-loving person, capable of taking action in the world (weaving our fine
cloth), a woman must care for<span style="font-size: small;"> herself and hold on to <span style="font-size: small;">all of her parts, acknowledging</span></span> the dark powers <span style="font-size: small;">of the goddess r</span>ather than
attempting to destroy or escape them.<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Is there some<span style="font-size: small;"> part of<span style="font-size: small;"> you that you <span style="font-size: small;">ha<span style="font-size: small;">ve </span>lost and need to<span style="font-size: small;"> reclaim?</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3495170925182385524.post-18363203704902968802012-11-01T01:32:00.000-07:002016-11-13T03:17:55.884-08:00Why Are We So Polarized?<style>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Once
upon a time the world was a perfect union between two gods named Nut and Geb who
were locked in eternal embrace but Shu, the god of emptiness, got between them
and pushed them apart, creating an opening for the world to exist.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: small;">The
story of the separation of heaven and earth is how an ancient people explained
how the world came to be. <i>A division had to occur before people could
exist</i>. Why is that? What does that say about human nature and
what light does it shed on what is happening right now in American politics
where public opinion has divided and gone to the extremes?</span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: small;">Our
tendency as humans to view things in terms of opposites seems natural enough. In fact, discovery of the opposites – good
and bad, odd and even, light and dark – was a major development in Western philosophy
and is a necessary step in the creation of consciousness in a person. When a child is born it makes no
distinction between itself and its mother. As it grows, it begins to realize that the mother is something
separate. The notion of an <i>other</i>
is formed. The encounter with the other “confronting one in enmity or attracting one in love” is the first and what
psychologist C.G. Jung would arguably claim the ultimate experience of the
soul.</span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: small;">In
a surprisingly accessible book entitled <i>The Mystery of The Coniunctio: Alchemical
Image of Individuation</i>, Jungian analyst Edward Edinger calls the opposites the “dynamo”
of the human psyche or soul:</span></span>
</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“The
flow of libido, or psychic energy, is generated by the polarization of
opposites in the same way as electricity flows between the positive and
negative poles of an electrical circuit.
So, whenever we are attracted toward a desired object, or react against
a hated object, we’re caught up in the drama of the opposites.”</span></span></div>
</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In
short, the constellation of opposites is what animates us.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: small;">Edinger
observes that what occurs within an individual’s psyche is a process also going
on between two people as well as a process taking place within the whole community. If that is true, then Edinger’s
description of how a person’s ego forms and asserts itself may shed some light
on why politics in America has become so polarized:</span></span>
</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“The
young ego is obliged to establish itself as something definite and therefore it
must say, ‘I am this and I am not that.’ No-saying is a crucial feature of
initial ego development. But the
result of this early operation is that a shadow is created. All that I announce I am not then goes
into the shadow.”</span></span></div>
</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In
Jungian psychology, the “ego” is the conscious part of the mind, the one that
says, “I am” and “I am not.” The “shadow”
is the unconscious part, which the ego does not recognize in itself. It consists of repressed weaknesses, shortcomings
and instincts. The “psyche” is the
totality of the mind, the conscious and unconscious parts.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: small;">When
the emerging ego <i>identifies</i> itself
with one of a pair of opposites – whether conceived as good and bad, black and
white, rich and poor, left and right, male and female, gay and straight – it
necessarily rejects the other of the pair as a possibility for itself. The reason for this is that the
immature ego is not yet strong enough to carry the weight of both possibilities
within itself at the same time, the negative aspect being much harder to bear
than the positive one. (However,
positive aspects may also be hidden in one’s shadow, especially in people with
low self-esteem.) </span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: small;">The
same situation can be observed in our communities. Groups have <i>identified</i>
themselves with one of a pair of opposites and cannot bear the weight of
insight into their shadows. As a
result, within the community there is very little perceived common ground – that open space in the
middle where the virtues of tolerance, mutuality, sympathy and support thrive. Consequently, these virtues are quickly
disappearing from our cultural and political landscape. </span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: small;">To
make matters worse, those who seek to hoard the public good, dominating by power
and wealth, exploit our weaknesses and blind spots using the oldest trick in
the book: divide and conquer.</span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: small;">As
Noam Chomsky has pointed out, convincing people that they have nothing in
common with each other and should just take care of themselves is a good way to
keep folks isolated, afraid <i>and </i><i>in the
dark</i>.</span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: small;">So
how do we change as a nation and grow? </span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: small;">Jung
believed that the purpose of human existence is “to kindle a light in the
darkness of mere being.”</span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: small;">Sooner
or later, if we are to grow, that split off shadow must be encountered again as
an inner reality. Nevertheless,
how can we embrace something we are truly unconscious of?</span></span>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Edinger
suggests we look at the opposites:</span></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“You
find them scrutinizing whatever you love and hate. That’s easy to say but exceedingly difficult to do. The reason it’s so difficult is that
whenever feelings of love and hate come upon us, they are not accompanied by
inclinations to scrutiny.”</span></span></div>
</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ask
yourself:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: small;">“Who
do I hate?”</span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: small;">“What
do I fight against?”</span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Whatever
your answer is, know that it is a part of you. </span></span></div>
The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3495170925182385524.post-39201283582240067102012-06-28T01:28:00.000-07:002012-06-28T20:29:54.619-07:00Making Strange<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijxFMABa-3bpnvAo6AwHtEutvCuvpeHs6qL8EvN5wJRV_2JBiVlVp0G9qdSyssYhQ3gNVCVMrJD4-q_-IrpNChoK9jc5WAOtHFwpQ0FMTaTnHE3xxgI3SeI0H38mn8VGNg8VyWE5K35FU/s1600/IMG_4401.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijxFMABa-3bpnvAo6AwHtEutvCuvpeHs6qL8EvN5wJRV_2JBiVlVp0G9qdSyssYhQ3gNVCVMrJD4-q_-IrpNChoK9jc5WAOtHFwpQ0FMTaTnHE3xxgI3SeI0H38mn8VGNg8VyWE5K35FU/s400/IMG_4401.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
"As the musicians started to play the bass horn and counter-bass, a large number of people in black mantles poured onto the stage from right and left. The people, with something like daggers in their hands, started to wave their arms. Then still more people came running out and began to drag away a maiden who had been wearing a white dress but who now wore one of sky blue. They did not drag her off immediately, but sang with her for a long time before dragging her away. Three times they struck on something metallic behind the scenes, and everyone got down on his knees and began to chant a prayer. Several times all of this activity was interrupted by enthusiastic shouts from the spectators."<br />
<br />
<br />
This passage from Tolstoy's <i>War and Peace</i> is an example of what the Russian Formalists (a literary movement that flourished at the time of the Russian Revolution) called defamiliarization or "making strange," the artistic technique of taking a familiar object or situation and presenting it in a strange way so as to produce the strongest possible impression (the sense that one is experiencing something for the first time).<br />
<br />
Tolstoy's description of what happens in the second act of an opera as if he's never seen one before (or
Tyutchev's comparing summer lightning to deaf and dumb demons or
Gogol's postulating a man who's lost his nose and has to track it down as it parades through the streets of St. Petersburg) are all ways of "making strange." The purpose is to free art (and life) from what one of the leading figures of the movement, Victor Shklovsky, called the "automatism of perception," the tendency to overlook familiar things. <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"After we see an object several times, we begin to recognize it. The object is in front of us and we know about it, but we do not see it -- hence, we cannot say anything significant about it."</blockquote>
In his article "Art and Device," Shklovsky offers an excerpt from Tolstoy's diary to illustrate: <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"I was cleaning a room and, meandering about, approached the divan and couldn't remember whether or not I had dusted it. Since these movements are habitual and unconscious, I could not remember and felt that it was impossible to remember -- so that if I had dusted it and forgot -- that is, had acted unconsciously -- then it was the same as if I had not. If no one was looking, or looking on unconsciously, if the whole complex of lives of many people go on unconsciously, then such lives are as if they had never been."</blockquote>
The purpose of art, then, is to make us feel alive -- or, as Shklovsky puts it, "to make the stone stony<i>.</i>" The way to achieve this is through certain artistic "devices" that when employed impede perception through their strangeness so that the object can be experienced in all its wonder (deaf and dumb demons) before the everyday word that we assign to it (lightning) is recognized. <br />
<br />
One device is to avoid the familiar word. In the passage from<i> War and Peace</i>, the word "opera" is not mentioned once. Nor is "actor" or "singer." Instead, Tolstoy refers to "a maiden" and "the people." Another device is to use bold imagery and metaphor (Gogol compared the sky to the garment of God) or foreign words (Tolstoy wrote whole passages of <i>War and Peace</i> in French) or words out of context (in one story, a commentary about the institution of private property, Tolstoy tells the entire story from the horse's point of view).<br />
<br />
The theater of Bertolt Brecht in which the audience was kept from losing itself passively in the characters so that it could reflect consciously on what was happening was grounded in the Russian Formalist notion of defamiliarization, but "making strange" was then certainly nothing new. Long before, Aristotle himself had written in his <i>Poetics</i> that "impressive diction, one that escapes the ordinary, results from the use of strange words." The other arts as well, such as medicine, have long employed the technique. The shaman among certain Inuit tribes use circumlocution when conversing with the spirits, employing certain substitutes for ordinary words, such as "the one with the drum" for "shaman" or "that with tusks" for "walrus." I speculate that the purpose here of "making strange" is to take the extraordinary proceedings of healing someone's soul out from the "ordinary" world into the realm where spirits reside. We even see the device of "making strange" in children's fairy tales, where the hard task of turning away from familiar things and embarking on the marvelous journey is rewarded by the discovery of the self.<br />
<br />
What then is in front of you, that familiar thing, which you constantly overlook that would come to life if only you knew how to make it strange?<br />
<br />
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<br />The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3495170925182385524.post-67811443411874829442012-04-26T01:52:00.001-07:002012-07-20T22:03:00.734-07:00Invisible Counselors<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"In a dark time the eye begins to see." </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">This is the opening line of the poem by Theodore Roethke. But how does it happen in life?</span></div>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">In a dark time, when battling paralyzing fear (the fear of poverty, of criticism, of loss of love), I wrote down those words of the poet. I had no idea how I would find my way out of the underground passage I found myself in, especially as there were no mentors or guides.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The idea that I could turn misfortune (which I began to write about in the form of a book that I would call <i>The Red Coat</i>) into a blessing was the thought that changed my life.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">In his inspirational classic, <i>Think and Grow Rich, </i>Napoleon Hill says that people end up where they are because of their dominating thoughts and desires. Everything created in the world begins in the form of a thought inside your head.</span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"All thought has a tendency to clothe itself in its physical equivalent."</span></blockquote>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">If you are a worrier, you get things to worry about. If you fear criticism, you find yourself inundated by it. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">To address his own shortcomings, Hill conducted a thought experiment. He called an imaginary council of historical figures whom he admired and who he thought would have a positive influence on him, such that he might in time and through interaction with them rebuild his own character. Hill appointed himself the head of that assembly and addressed the figures one by one, requesting their assistance in his endeavors. Soon, these "Invisible Counselors" began to communicate to him through the "receiving set" of his subconscious mind, granting him throughout his day the extraordinary ideas, plans and hunches that flashed before his mind. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Here is my cabinet (with seating chart) and call to order. Who's in yours?</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">INVISIBLE COUNSELORS</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Think-Grow-Rich-Napoleon-Hill/dp/1612930298/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1335427432&sr=8-1" target="_blank">NAPOLEON HILL</a> (sitting at my right hand which is the strong hand of my will), I ask that you pass on to me the habit of directing my thoughts toward success, being ever mindful that thoughts are things, and powerful things when mixed with definiteness of purpose, persistence and a burning desire for their translation into wealth.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=shiko+munakata&oe=utf-8&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a&um=1&ie=UTF-8&hl=en&tbm=isch&source=og&sa=N&tab=wi&ei=wgGZT62NJIOniQK6l8DDDw&biw=901&bih=622&sei=xQGZT6v8FqWpiQLrqbS-Dw" target="_blank">SHIKO MUNAKATA</a> (self-taught Artist born to a blacksmith),
I ask that you teach me to see what is already there and
to work with marvelous speed in getting it down on paper.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">From you, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dionysus" target="_blank">DIONYSUS</a> (God of Theater and Wine), I wish to
acquire the freedom of Nobody<i> </i>and the
gift of the Poets through whom speak the daemons of your house.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">From you, <a href="http://www.criterion.com/boxsets/206-fanny-and-alexander-box-set" target="_blank">INGMAR BERGMAN</a> (Master of the Magic Lantern), I wish to learn how to express through word and image those chasms, heavens, eternities
that we bear within us.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">You, </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Descent-Goddess-Way-Initiation-Women/dp/0919123058" target="_blank">ERESHKIGAL</a> (Queen of the Great Below whose dark
forces when unobserved are felt as depression), I wish to keep in my circle
so that you do not destroy me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">From you, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Polarbearonice.jpg" target="_blank">POLAR BEAR</a> (sitting opposite me), I ask that you
let me put on your coat and be who I am.</span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">From you, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Inanna-Queen-Heaven-Earth-Stories/dp/0060908548" target="_blank">INANNA</a> (Queen of Heaven and Earth), I wish to
acquire all of the virtues: the virtue of war, of incantation, of truth, of
dagger and sword, of fear, of lovemaking, of the happy song, of the lamentation,
of treachery, of straightforwardness, of kindness, of deceit, and so on, so
that I am a whole and sovereign being.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">From you, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Birds_%28play%29" target="_blank">ARISTOPHANES</a> (Comic Poet of the Ancient World), I
wish to acquire the audacity and skill to erase the world that is and create
another.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">From you, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Diane_de_Versailles_Leochares.jpg" target="_blank">ARTEMIS</a> (Mistress of the Wilderness), I wish to
acquire the ability to talk to the animals and to hear the wisdom of the
natural world.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">From you, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Essential-Jung-C-G/dp/0691029350/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1335428372&sr=1-1" target="_blank">C.G. JUNG</a>, I wish to acquire the ability and
courage to overcome those strange resistances that hold me back, to let go of
suffering and open myself to the possibility of all that I am, giving battle to
the nursery demons at the gate and entering the causal zone of my psyche where
I clarify and name the Eternal Ones who hold the keys to my life.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">From
you, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joan_of_Arc" target="_blank">JOAN OF ARC</a> (sitting to my left, the little left hand of me), I desire to
acquire the Movement of Faith, the resolute action that is needed to put in
motion the extraordinary ideas that come to me in sparks of divinity. </span> </div>The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3495170925182385524.post-51158722760549439142012-04-11T02:25:00.000-07:002012-04-11T02:28:01.039-07:00Call to Adventure<style>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtVkiJV1QiCOOQVOqObz4kWhof4zY5HCvTnE6Zs7eyNQLMnbTAlnZZEdmDFz3NuDJlR1o0J5NHRkY_L9yLNFgQImlOIhAJZ1ki8nyLLezrQ3x1ZoWO_UlHvQEcYFS0iP-9ZXCJgZMcVJw/s1600/cinderella1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtVkiJV1QiCOOQVOqObz4kWhof4zY5HCvTnE6Zs7eyNQLMnbTAlnZZEdmDFz3NuDJlR1o0J5NHRkY_L9yLNFgQImlOIhAJZ1ki8nyLLezrQ3x1ZoWO_UlHvQEcYFS0iP-9ZXCJgZMcVJw/s320/cinderella1.jpg" width="260" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">When a pretty and kind-hearted girl is
eight years old, her mother dies.
Her father remarries and the new mother is jealous and mean,
foisting all of the housework on the lovely young girl while favoring her own
lazy and spiteful daughters.
Toiling under this unbearable situation, the girl eventually loses sight
of her charms. Her journey then,
as a young woman, is to rediscover the beauty that she lost. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">This is the story of Cinderella, one
of the oldest and best-loved fairy tales in the world. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">According to Joseph Campbell in <i>The Hero With A Thousand Faces</i>, the
journey begins with a crisis and a call to adventure, which is set in motion by
the merest chance – a maiden loses her slipper, or a ball rolls into a pond, or
there is a knock at the door, or someone loses his way in the woods – and the
individual is drawn into an unfamiliar and terrifying world.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The figure that first appears to
announce the adventure – be it a repulsive toad who offers advice or a benevolent
fairy godmother who turns a pumpkin and field mice into a coach drawn by six
gray horses – belongs to the realm where the hero must go. To answer the call, the hero must turn
away from familiar things and enter the dark forest or the underground way to
grapple with the hidden and irrational forces of a place where one cannot see
“to the bottom of things.”</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The crisis has come about because the
old ideals, thoughts and behaviors are no longer appropriate. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">In <i>The
Feminine in Fairy Tales</i>, Marie Louise Von Franz suggests that, for a woman,
the call may be to live more boldly and in line with one’s nature, as in the
case of Cinderella who has been hiding in the shadow of her domineering step-mother and sisters – or it may be to get over hurt feelings as in the case
of Snow White whose response to the deadly opinion about her is to sleep for a
hundred years. Or perhaps, Von
Franz suggests, it is necessary to connect with officially rejected
thoughts or feelings, as in the case of the sister in <i>The Six Swans</i> who must work for many years in the deepest
introversion sewing shirts for her brothers who had been turned into swans by
their unhappy mother. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Failure to answer the call means the
loss of “the power of significant affirmative action” and reduces the subject
to a victim to be saved. But answering the call, Campbell says, sends up
all kinds of supernatural aid. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">As
in fairytale, so in real life. Answering the call and following
courageously as the path unfolds, we find all of the forces of the unconscious
at our side. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">In moments of crisis, the
unconscious sends up "living beings" that are concealed in the
emotions but which sometimes appear to us in dreams. According to
psychologist C.G. Jung, these aspects of instinctive impulse have the power to
destroy as long as they remain hidden or submerged in the unconscious.
Answering the call, then, on some level, is to listen to what is being asked of
us in our dreams – that is, to embrace the quest for a new synthesis of
personality that involves taking into account those parts of the whole that
have been neglected.</span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"> The
way Jung himself responded to the call – and what he urged his patients to do –
was to translate these instinctive impulses into images. He urged his patients to draw and paint
their fantasies, finding that this technique both helped them to rediscover
hidden parts of themselves and also to portray the psychological journey upon
which they were embarked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">What is being asked of you? </span></div>The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3495170925182385524.post-26432087919322033602012-03-16T02:18:00.002-07:002016-11-13T04:01:35.251-08:00Play To Lose<style>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMCAZtL7Pzi4A3qbt_0CjM9VxQImHW2Ca7iISO7F2MCcYh61khY9DL5JCu70xH8IAn-GKV-J6AfU15JCpPFY4TjUsjo2SMB5aBfALbx8QkGD_51ZZw8ld3Kg0EtnayJLIt-cZjdWd8jdg/s1600/MENADE-POMPEI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMCAZtL7Pzi4A3qbt_0CjM9VxQImHW2Ca7iISO7F2MCcYh61khY9DL5JCu70xH8IAn-GKV-J6AfU15JCpPFY4TjUsjo2SMB5aBfALbx8QkGD_51ZZw8ld3Kg0EtnayJLIt-cZjdWd8jdg/s400/MENADE-POMPEI.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">An actor can’t get an audition much less a part. “Why is this happening to me? What am I doing wrong?” he asks his coach. He is afraid, confounded, desperate. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">The coach tells him, “Oh, you’re going to get an audition, very soon, in fact, and when you do – I want you to blow it."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The actor is alarmed. “That’s crazy! Why would I do that?” </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“What’s more important,” the coach asks, “The audition or your life?” </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I witnessed this exchange many years ago at a weekly seminar in LA facilitated by life coach <a href="http://www.bccfreedom.com/" target="_blank">Breck Costin</a>. My mentor at the studio where I worked suggested I meet Breck after she’d walked into my office one afternoon and found me adrift in a sea of emotional pain. I was far, far, far from who I thought I was or the person I wanted to be. I was cautious and afraid of conflict, overly sensitive, stuck, low-paid, over-worked, depressed and always tired -- instead of bold, innovative, laughter-loving, bounteous and free.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“What’s wrong?” Nancy asked as she stepped into my office. I was still getting to know her and didn’t want to go into the details of my unhappy life, so I just said, “I feel like if I were myself there wouldn’t be enough air to breath.” Nancy smiled like a Cheshire cat and sat down in the chair across from me. With that one look, all my layers of protection fell away and I felt completely exposed. “If you were yourself,” she said, still smiling, “you’d be a <i>forest</i>.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I went back to the seminar the next week and the actor told the story of what had happened in the intervening days. Unbelievably, he <i>did</i> get an audition – just like Breck had said – and for a pretty good role too! He bravely went in and did everything you’re not supposed to do at an audition – he talked loudly in the hallways, chewed gum on stage, and after a couple lines into the reading he tossed the script on the floor and started to complain how the writing sucked!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The producers loved it and hired him!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Why did it work? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Breck’s theory was that you can’t produce when you’re afraid of losing. The reason people don’t fully invest in someone or something is because they’re afraid of losing that person or thing. They do everything possible to avoid the loss. Which means they can’t play or create in that arena (be it money, sex, career, parenting, partnership or whatever) and so they become petrified, literally. Stuck in a block of cement. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Breck said magic happens when you develop a full-blown relationship with loss – when you are fully invested and play full out to lose. Unlike most self-help gurus who exhort you to be a winner, or those who trick you into winning despite yourself, Breck encouraged you to play to lose. When you worked with him you had to give up the right to have a result. The purpose was to bring up all the feelings you avoided and to heal them. Actually, the feelings never quite go away, you just learn how to live with them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Joseph Campbell said “follow your bliss” but Breck believed that your calling will bring up feelings of more than just “bliss.” Sometimes, he'd say, dealing with your life's work takes all you’ve got.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">As for me, Breck thought my calling was "voice." I had to give up the right to have one. I had to take all the committed actions </span><span style="font-size: small;">–</span><span style="font-size: small;"> not to be a successful storyteller but to bring up all the feelings of loss, of never having been heard, of being shouted down, of confusion and making mistakes, of forgetfulness, of feeling invisible, dismissed, accidental, powerless – and not deserving of love. Notwithstanding those feelings, I slowly began to speak up for myself, pipe up at department meetings, express my anger to a boss – and share my writing with others. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">That was a long time ago, and still, every day, I struggle to remember that my life is worth more than my fear.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">What are you afraid to lose? </span></span></div>
</div>
The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3495170925182385524.post-19011309393658361672012-02-14T01:40:00.000-08:002012-02-14T01:43:14.089-08:00Trash to Treasure<style>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhXZDJM2Uxu0HA-D0_M60r7pe3xTUNsS0_VOT4Oorot9CwBi9VyD5e__w_-yE72i7yszGpTpcAsFK4rVzYVL1OmP_T64WXRpw5iRi1ItDMh3Y7gmerk9ncB9NQlbQBWrrIEyHxwaCWbg0/s1600/IMG_3206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhXZDJM2Uxu0HA-D0_M60r7pe3xTUNsS0_VOT4Oorot9CwBi9VyD5e__w_-yE72i7yszGpTpcAsFK4rVzYVL1OmP_T64WXRpw5iRi1ItDMh3Y7gmerk9ncB9NQlbQBWrrIEyHxwaCWbg0/s400/IMG_3206.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">A man holds a lantern before an open door and enters. That is the subject of a painting by William Blake entitled “Jerusalem.” I found it in a book called <i>The Hermetic Museum: Alchemy & Mysticism</i>. It was one of the many books I read trying to teach myself how to write <i>The Red Coat</i>.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">The alchemists were looking for a way to turn base metals – lead, tin, iron – into gold. For me, the challenge was first put forth by Oscar the Grouch in a book I bought my boy at the grocery story: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Trash-Treasure-Little-golden-books/dp/0307301230/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1329211017&sr=1-1"><i>From Trash to Treasure!</i></a> The idea interested me. I had a lot of trash, and more and more kept getting heaped on me all the time. So after a while, I didn’t know what was mine or where I stood in all of it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Now this wasn’t real trash, it was psychic trash, and yes some of it was circumstantial trash. Trash that came along. Trash inherited from my ancestors, from history, from my parents. Even friends and employers contributed. Collective trash. But for some reason, I seemed to have more of it than others. Maybe I was a trash magnet? Or I created trash? I felt like I had it written on my face. It was getting me down.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">What to do with all that trash?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">At the lowest point, when the weight of trash was unbearable, I began to make something out of it. In 1995, when my son was four years old, I started to write <i>The Red Coat</i>. At first, it was merely entries in a journal, fragments, images, scenes into which I’d project myself in order to get to the bottom of my problem.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Where did I go? What happened to me? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">A character appeared whom I would call Marla Piper. Where did she come from? I didn’t know but “she” allowed me to look at myself without the painful reminder that it was me. Like an alchemist from a distant age, I would peer down into the murk of my soul and shine a light upon my “stuff” to try and deal with it. I’d have to sift through a lot of junk to figure out what to keep and what to get rid of.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I found that some of the stuff had been projected onto me by other people as part of their own unwanted shadow (“you are worthless” was really how they felt about themselves). Some of it belonged to the culture I lived in (“you are not beautiful”), and some of it was inherited from my folks (“you are doomed to fail”). Those things I could try and jettison, whereas other things, things I myself had done or created (“you are judgmental” or “you are confused” or “you have abdicated power”) were facts about myself that I’d have to take responsibility for if I was ever going to succeed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Bit by bit, I turned the pieces over in my mind's eye and still I could not find that mysterious, vital <i>essence</i> that instinctually I felt was my birthright but which had been taken from me or I had forgotten somewhere along the way and it was now lost, submerged like some priceless treasure thrown off a pirate ship and fallen to the bottom of the ocean.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Psychologist C.G. Jung saw the unconscious mind as an ocean and the ego (that part of the mind we usually think of as “me”) as a tiny boat bobbing in the midst.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jung believed that the goal of psychic development is the integration of these two parts of the self, the unconscious and the conscious. Shining a light on the shadow – those repressed shortcomings, emotions and instincts lurking inside us – is the way we come to ourselves. The treasure is in the depths of things where insight prevails. Paradoxically, when we are able to do this, to see and accept the awful, unspoken, hidden parts as well as the good, we lay claim to our divinity.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">For Jung, and for the alchemists and the mystics, exploring the psyche (or soul) is a religious quest, and it is ignorance not sin that keeps us from God. For the integrated personality, or “Self” as Jung called it, is the archetype of unity and totality, that immutable spark inside us that reflects the living God.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">What is your treasure? that immutable, rare, and desired part? Where did it go? Is it hidden, sunken, buried, lost or stolen or is it like that lamp of old:</span></div><blockquote class="tr_bq"><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">"No one lights a lamp and puts it in a place where it will be hidden, or under a bowl. Instead, he puts it on its stand, so that those who come in may see the light.” - Luke 11:5</span></div></blockquote>The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3495170925182385524.post-4024565859540101862012-01-27T00:57:00.000-08:002016-11-13T03:59:35.788-08:00The Lyrical and the Epic<style>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Men and women fall in love for their own reasons that oftentimes have little to do with the person that is loved.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">In his novel of ideas </span><span style="font-size: small;"><u>The Unbearable Lightness of Being</u></span><span style="font-size: small;">, Czech writer Milan Kundera describes different ways that men and women love each other, pointing out that men who pursue a multitude of women "fall neatly into two categories."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">On the one hand, he shows us Franz, the married man, who has taken as his mistress Sabina, the unforgettable woman with the hat, whom he cherishes as an ideal. When Franz and Sabina make love, Franz always shuts his eyes so as to maintain his fantasy of her. In this way he merges with her more easily. This type of womanizer (who seeks his personal ideal in each woman) Kundera calls "the lyrical." These lovers always run after the same type of woman, Kundera argues, for what they seek in women is <i>themselves</i>. What propels them from woman to woman is their disappointment, since an ideal is by definition something that can never be found. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">On the other hand, we are given Tomas, the divorced man who has balanced his fear of women against his desire for them by devising what he calls the "erotic friendship" -- the relationship in which neither partner can make any claim on the life or freedom of the other, in short, one which does not allow for love. Following his unwritten rule, Tomas pursues many lovers, relishing the particulars of each. In fact, it is their particular <i>oddities</i> that he finds most attractive: an awkward gait, a large nose, an uneven set of eyes. </span><span style="font-size: small;">Having quickly tired of conventional beauty, Tomas is something of a collector, in search of that rare find. </span><span style="font-size: small;">This type of womanizer (who seeks in women the infinite variety of the feminine universe) Kundera calls "epic." These lovers project no subjective ideal on women, he argues, and since everything interests them, nothing can disappoint them. Their desire is not so much for pleasure as it is for possession of the world.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">In an examination of his own work as a writer in <u>The Art of the Novel</u>, Kundera submits that the lyrical and the epic are two possible attitudes that a person might take toward himself, other people and the world, -- the lyrical being "the expression of a self-revealing subjectivity" and the epic arising "from the urge to seize hold of the objective world."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Which type of person are you?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">For my picture, I chose an exquisite panel painting portrait from the Classical world to help explain why I endlessly search the dead past.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></i></span>The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3495170925182385524.post-33774857632979876112012-01-12T03:29:00.000-08:002012-04-02T08:26:07.944-07:00The Silence of the Heart<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
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<span style="font-size: small;">When I used to go to see Firenze, we would fold our legs in our chairs opposite one another and close our eyes. She always began her prayer with a thank you and what she talked about was always something on my mind, the reason I had come to see her (though I wondered how she knew the cause for my visit before I even said one word!). Firenze always ended her prayer with me being the Beloved Child of God, the beautiful beloved child, perfect in God’s eyes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Those visits long ago always filled me with happiness. They were a respite from the larger goings on in my life. I was in trouble and Firenze knew it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I had been seeing a married man who swore that he loved me, had loved me ever since we were young, but now that I’d come back into his life he couldn’t just pick up where we left off as kids. He was married now and couldn’t leave his wife and family. I was so desperate to be loved I didn’t know how to turn away from him, but the relationship was causing those around me anguish and was ruining my life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">What could I do? </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I loved him and knew that I could not be “just friends.” How could I have a relationship with him without betraying myself? On the other hand, how could I walk away from the source of my happiness? Everyone I dared consult about my problem, understandably, had a strong opinion or a judgment. My closest friends watched me, sadly, as I blundered along. Firenze was the one who finally helped me figure out what to do: it was simple. She said look inside yourself, the answer is there.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">That is the message of <a href="http://www.paulferrini.com/html/body_silence_of_the_heart_by_paul_f.html">The Silence of the Heart</a>, a book that Firenze’s god-daughter gave me. The answer always lies in the silence of your heart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Look inside, the book prompts, and you will see that the source of your unhappiness is your own self-betrayal. Reading it, you come to understand that what you were looking for in someone else can only be supplied by you. Happiness and fulfillment flow from the commitment you make to yourself, and only when you love and honor yourself can you love and honor others without judging or trying to change them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">But how to honor yourself when you don't know where to begin? The way the book prescribes is simple and yet profound: </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"Ask for what you want and do not accept what you do not want."</span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">How many times we thought we were unworthy and accepted less!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Here is a little prayer from the book that helped me through that crisis, deepening my connection to my self and helping me to offer my gifts more authentically:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">"I know what feels good to me and what does not. I will say what I need. I will speak my truth and I will be firm in my commitment to my own healing. I will no longer betray or violate myself in any relationship. I will communicate how I think and feel honestly, with compassion for the other, but without attachment to how he or she receives my communication. I trust that by telling the truth and honoring myself, I am in communication with the beloved.”</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-size: small;">That last line may have saved my life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">For my picture I chose a vine that I found hanging from a tree that was tangled in a knot. It was a surprising fact that I happened to notice when I let the rest of our party go on ahead and I lingered there awhile by myself alone in the woods.</span></div>The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3495170925182385524.post-38786181786109894202012-01-04T01:26:00.000-08:002012-01-06T10:30:13.390-08:00A Funny Feeling<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_cy_I18TEiE/TwQSRHPO8DI/AAAAAAAAAIw/1g264cgUMJg/s1600/IMG_3109.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_cy_I18TEiE/TwQSRHPO8DI/AAAAAAAAAIw/1g264cgUMJg/s320/IMG_3109.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The last time I sat down to write I scratched my pen across the paper and pushed away the tablet. I couldn’t start. My mind was elsewhere. Writing was the last thing I wanted to be doing. It wasn’t a question of hunkering down. I had been working hard all year long. Right now I had a deep need to do something else.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">What I really wanted and felt I needed to do was to nest, to fix up my home, especially the bathroom. I felt oppressed by the leaking shower door, the cracks in the plaster around the tub, the dirty paint, the unfinished floor. It made me unhappy to go in there. I knew that it would make the last big push to finish my book more bearable if I fixed up that room, so I set down my pen and gave in to my urge.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">A friend cautioned me. She told me my time was too valuable and I should just hire a handyman. She said her guy could probably throw down some tile and paint the walls for 500 bucks, but I couldn’t justify spending that much money right now. Moreover, I had an inexplicable need to tackle the job myself. Consulting my <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Womans-Hands-Home-Repair-Guide/dp/0882669737">Woman’s Hands-On Home Repair Guide</a>, I was determined to learn how to do it myself.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I spent a total of 75 dollars and the next four days of my holiday time off that I “should” have been writing doing nothing but re-caulking the tub and shower door -- twice (the first time I did it wrong!) -- cutting out moldy plaster, re-plastering the walls and washing, priming and painting the walls and ceilings and doors. I cleaned out the fan too and learned how to reassemble a locking doorknob. After two days of kneeling in the tub and two more days bending backwards with a soapy sponge or a sopping roller brush as enamel paint splattered my face, I had swollen hands and feet and could barely stand up straight!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Was it worth it? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I don’t know yet exactly what it is, but I have a funny feeling I learned something important. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It feels like the time when early on writing “The Red Coat” I had a deep urge to take on a sewing project and I let myself do that and I discovered in the process the truth about my main character: she would sew the red coat herself instead of having someone else do it for her. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">How does one ever finish a book if one always lets ones impulses get in the way? They caution writers about giving in to the urge to do housework as a way to avoid the work of writing and, yet I also read somewhere that instincts in unconscious people are the manifestation of the Self. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Do you know where your instincts want to take you? Do you dare let them?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">For my picture, I snapped a shot of my old bathroom floor. I decided to keep what marble I had because it's hard to destroy and beautiful, filled with strange hieroglyphics that are fun to decipher. </span></div>The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3495170925182385524.post-38789099572795691172011-12-14T02:33:00.000-08:002011-12-14T10:24:50.332-08:00The Secret of Happiness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEx-srQC5GknaRux1GcEmteu1-DFt10Bc-CDDCkrEturgGE7XgXwfPzIviZHyrSyVjlJIf7K4ujGfnkdZ4EmaUAPtxnWJEJFNSaRHkRZrolWJGEUbVmDuogXj3eEomZVZuAp2d7aQfY-s/s1600/IMG_2956.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEx-srQC5GknaRux1GcEmteu1-DFt10Bc-CDDCkrEturgGE7XgXwfPzIviZHyrSyVjlJIf7K4ujGfnkdZ4EmaUAPtxnWJEJFNSaRHkRZrolWJGEUbVmDuogXj3eEomZVZuAp2d7aQfY-s/s320/IMG_2956.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>During a period in my life in which I felt hopelessly trapped in stasis (it was about the time I started writing <i>The Red Coat</i>), someone suggested I try writing a gratitude list at bedtime. You know, recounting at the end of the day all the things in your life that you are thankful for.<br />
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Counting your blessings is supposed to help pull you out of a rut by getting you to focus on what's going right instead of all the things that are going wrong. It's the "secret" behind that book <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Secret_%28book%29">The Secret</a>. Namely: whatever you focus on you get more of. Focus on your problems and you just get more of them. Focus on the good things and they grow. <br />
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My problem was, I felt so awful, I could not think of one good thing to say about my life! <br />
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Moreover, I didn't quite hold to the idea of a gratitude list. There seemed to be fear built in. For example, the thought, "I'm grateful for my job," had a tiny little voice attached to it that warned, "You could lose it tomorrow!" Or the thought, "Thank heavens for my health!" brought to consciousness some little pain in the body. It was as if courting a good thing provoked its opposite.<br />
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So late one night when I was feeling stuck and worried (and doesn't stuck and worried always visit late at night!) I wondered what I could focus on that would create movement in my life. What would make the energy go up, instead of down? <br />
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And that's when I lit on it: I'd make a list of all the things that day that brought me joy!<br />
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At first, joy was hard to find and my list was pretty short: there was that kind word from a colleague at the office, or the smile that a stranger gave away for free. Some days all I could come up with was how happy my bird had been to see me. Remarkably, as I began to keep track of joy, it began to show up in spades. Writing it down at night magically brought more of it the next day. I found that I could even go looking for it, or create it in others. That is when I began to look forward to my day, when I began to see that joy was everywhere and all around me, in every living thing, and all I had to do was notice it.<br />
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For my picture, I chose Scuffy who always brings me joy.The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3495170925182385524.post-92134904231215970332011-12-08T00:58:00.000-08:002011-12-08T01:06:27.702-08:00I'm Your Self<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXLiksr6wEVXn5ZEYxF6TNbHGk8kyIXInF16Je6TO-EWEp08-nkM2gIJQb-AVq5L1qQvIP8wTK8ejT1Op_ZX-kRCPVC_KjHzCcJBqxkw8C5l1vD_dsjLlFwHOM_0R9XRG9ni_J3YVMAQs/s1600/P1010002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXLiksr6wEVXn5ZEYxF6TNbHGk8kyIXInF16Je6TO-EWEp08-nkM2gIJQb-AVq5L1qQvIP8wTK8ejT1Op_ZX-kRCPVC_KjHzCcJBqxkw8C5l1vD_dsjLlFwHOM_0R9XRG9ni_J3YVMAQs/s400/P1010002.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>It's difficult to watch younger women tormenting themselves over love. I try to help if there's an invitation, otherwise I don't have the patience to listen to their complaining for very long: the truth is, it's just too plain painful because I was once that woman.<br />
<br />
I can't tell you how many times I had to put my life's work on hold while I went through a crisis over a man. The drama is well documented in my journals. I can go back through them now and see the pattern: I'd be making progress on my writing and then I'd fall in love and Frank or George or Ringo or whoever it was would suddenly announce that there was something about me focusing on him the way I did that made him nervous -- and he would start to pull away. With the love taken away, I'd fall into a depression. Every time.<br />
<br />
At some point, as I began to mature, I realized that I couldn't go on like that. I'd have to figure out how to love myself.<br />
<br />
But how do you love when you don't know how?<br />
<br />
Well there were a few tricks that worked, and one of them was this: <br />
<br />
One night, I was driving in the car, all alone, tears streaming down my face, I can't even remember why, and some insipid love song came on the radio and I thought, "How stupid is that!" and then suddenly it occurred to me:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">"Wouldn't it be funny if said those things to <i>myself!</i>" </blockquote>What if I sang to my own self: "I wanna hold your hand" or "I saw her standing there" or "I need you"? and just the thought made me laugh out loud. For a long time after that, every time I heard a sappy love song I would sing it to me and laugh. And so, little by little, as I learned to laugh and I practiced loving me, I began to feel better.<br />
<br />
It's great fun! Go on and try it!<br />
<br />
Try this one, by Leonard Cohen, except that every time he says, "I'm your man" you say, "I'm your Self":<br />
<br />
If you want a lover<br />
I'll do anything you ask me to<br />
And if you want another kind of love<br />
I'll wear a mask for you<br />
If you want a partner<br />
Take my hand<br />
Or if you want to strike me down in anger<br />
Here I stand<br />
I'm your man<br />
<br />
If you want a boxer<br />
I will step into the ring for you<br />
And if you want a doctor<br />
I'll examine every inch of you<br />
If you want a driver<br />
Climb inside<br />
Or if you want to take me for a ride<br />
You know you can<br />
I'm your man<br />
<br />
Ah, the moon's too bright<br />
The chain's too tight<br />
The beast won't go to sleep<br />
I've been running through these promises to you<br />
That I made and I could not keep<br />
Ah but a man never got a woman back<br />
Not by begging on his knees<br />
Or I'd crawl to you baby<br />
And I'd fall at your feet<br />
And I'd howl at your beauty<br />
Like a dog in heat<br />
And I'd claw at your heart<br />
And I'd tear at your sheet<br />
I'd say please, please<br />
I'm your man<br />
<br />
And if you've got to sleep<br />
A moment on the road<br />
I will steer for you<br />
And if you want to work the street alone<br />
I'll disappear for you<br />
If you want a father for your child<br />
Or only want to walk with me a while<br />
Across the sand<br />
I'm your man<br />
<br />
If you want a lover<br />
I'll do anything you ask me to<br />
And if you want another kind of love<br />
I'll wear a mask for you<br />
<br />
For my picture, I chose the photo we snapped one day of the Crapi Apartments across the street. Sometimes you just have to look around yourself and laugh.The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3495170925182385524.post-45415749796675119202011-12-01T02:23:00.000-08:002011-12-01T11:09:58.385-08:00What's In A Button?<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7NXpKFo8vQwHpJ4B8GBpDFjILUiSPKIJrSFsgxw06dggrOy3Xa977u_XoQsYWwbzeq21PXVbBkq1Sg2LLkWRWEifZngM1RUZo743Na7ukM76BUc-OiJFMZLjWsOylOd8APmXjEcw1NlM/s1600/IMG_2991.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7NXpKFo8vQwHpJ4B8GBpDFjILUiSPKIJrSFsgxw06dggrOy3Xa977u_XoQsYWwbzeq21PXVbBkq1Sg2LLkWRWEifZngM1RUZo743Na7ukM76BUc-OiJFMZLjWsOylOd8APmXjEcw1NlM/s320/IMG_2991.JPG" width="320" /></a> <span style="font-family: Arial;">What’s in a button?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">A button is an ordinary object, one you use every day and probably don't even notice. They are common. You’re probably wearing one right now and don’t even know it. An ordinary object that you use all the time and don’t stop to think about.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And yet, from the first soft baby clothes that grandma sewed for you to the dressing gown of your twilight years, the button will be at hand to secure you, adorn you and tell the story of who you are and where you came from. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Buttons are ancient.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The earliest known buttons were made in Egypt around 2000 B.C. Crusaders brought them to Europe from the Middle East. In days of old, they were distinguishing points of bespoke tailoring, commissioned by kings and worn by great ladies to flaunt their positions and wealth. But now buttons are hardly noticed, a result of ready-to-wear factory-style manufacturing. A product of our times. When was the last time you chose a garment for the buttons? Or chose the buttons for a garment? They are entirely overlooked.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">A button is round, simple, functional. The more you look at one, the more beautiful it becomes.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The button is a perfect mandala, actually. Like a mandala, it is round with a square inside and four gates. Like a mandala, a button could be used, if one thought to look at it that way, as a portal.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">In certain spiritual traditions, the Mandala is used to focus the attention of the seeker in order to establish a sacred space and help her to enter a meditative state in which to experience transcendent powers at work in the universe.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Sigmund Freud’s pupil Carl Jung painted mandalas as a “self-experiment” in order to come to terms with the contents of his unconscious mind. The work sprang from his need, he said, to define the ways in which his outlook differed from that of his teacher. He did not think of his paintings as art, only as a means to clarify certain material that had swamped him. After completing his six-year experiment, Jung transcribed his experiences in a journal he called “The Red Book,” a richly illustrated folio bound in red leather. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">What Jung realized was that the fantastic figures he had encountered in his meditations could not be traced to any personal or biographical event. Instead, he concluded, they were mythic, originating in an impersonal psychic realm that he called the "collective unconscious.” This discovery of an autonomous psychic realm populated by universal, inherited “shapes” of the human mind – or archetypes -- would form the basis of Jung’s psychology of the unconscious, the material for his lifetime’s work.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The button is just a metaphor. It is a way of being in the world. A way of approaching one's life, one's work. Pay more attention to your clothes – but not in the way that others have decided for you.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">For my picture, I snapped a picture of my mom’s green button (compare it to a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Painted_17th_century_Tibetan_%27Five_Deity_Mandala%27,_in_the_center_is_Rakta_Yamari_%28the_Red_Enemy_of_Death%29_embracing_his_consort_Vajra_Vetali,_in_the_corners_are_the_Red,_Green_White_and_Yellow_Yamari.jpg">Tibetan mandala</a> painted in the 17th century). Her collection of buttons was passed down to me, canisters of vibrant reds, greens, purples, blues, a whole bin of pearly whites. A tin of blacks. A tray of metal ones for uniforms. It is an inheritance I am just beginning to understand and appreciate. </span></div>The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3495170925182385524.post-59768147388163328582011-11-23T01:00:00.000-08:002011-11-23T01:47:09.754-08:00Opposite Inside You<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw1z-NxEf_XTjdisel5aaT6NCWWU0V932324DeWiXv1PbxcqaCNv1osnhrSfb8ofYMNpAFkVB90m02NF0UX05adak3laNR0nK8XdfhJeb64lIIWtuC9020RxaKlh_o2GOKjjdnTNVjNKM/s1600/200px-Joan_of_arc_miniature_graded.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw1z-NxEf_XTjdisel5aaT6NCWWU0V932324DeWiXv1PbxcqaCNv1osnhrSfb8ofYMNpAFkVB90m02NF0UX05adak3laNR0nK8XdfhJeb64lIIWtuC9020RxaKlh_o2GOKjjdnTNVjNKM/s400/200px-Joan_of_arc_miniature_graded.jpg" width="263" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span id="goog_1111879873"></span><span id="goog_1111879874"></span>The way to get at a difficult thing is to take on it’s opposite. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Czech filmmaker Yaroslava Vosmikova (or Barbara as her friends in L.A. call her) gave me this advice when I started to write <i>The Red Coat</i> and found that it had pitched me from broad daylight down into the Aladdin caves of my psyche. Rather than help me get clear on who I was and what I wanted, writing the book seemed to propel me further and further into darkness and doubt. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“Go against what you are aiming for to get at it,” Barbara told me. “Work in streams of consciousness. Throw out agitating, seemingly unrelated images to get at the deeper meaning,” and she gave as an example the bible quoting hitman from <i>Pulp Fiction</i>.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The Samuel L. Jackson character in that film who delivers a righteous sermon from Ezekiel even as he takes the life of another human being burned an image of irreconcilable opposites into our hearts and minds in the same way that 40 years earlier Robert Mitchum’s sinister preacher in <i>Night of the Hunter</i> would tattoo the words “Love” on his one hand and “Hate” on the other. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Pitting two characters of comparable strength opposite each other creates a powerful drama, but placing those same opposites together inside a single character describes what it means to be human. Nobody is all good or all bad, and it is the essence of consciousness to be able to look down into the deep wells inside yourself and see the dangerous Jinn as well as the jewels that abide there.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Interestingly, I think women tend to more readily identify with their negative character traits than acknowledge the positive ones, which remain weak or latent inside them. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The main character of my book, Marla Piper, would be the one to show me how to exercise my latent but formidable powers, the “opposites” inside me that I dared not let loose. Like the sister that saves Inanna from certain death in the underworld – her perfect complement – Marla would be my surrogate, the deputy that I would appoint to solve my</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"> daunting personal problems. Where I was shy and cautious, she would be bold. Where I was numb she would awaken to pain and to life, and where I was paralyzed in fear she would take action. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">My literary persona would help me become the whole, graceful and self-loving person that I needed. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">For my picture, I chose Joan of Arc, because at one time she was my antithesis. Where I felt hopeless and was easily deterred, Joan believed in and followed her visions with all of her heart, regardless of the outcome. Although I’ve gotten more sure, I know I still need to develop faith in myself and my ideas if I am going to succeed. p.s. did you notice that Joan wears a suit of armor and carries a sword?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">So tell me, what is the opposite inside you that has got to come out?</span></div>The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3495170925182385524.post-31211226811849094562011-10-26T08:15:00.000-07:002011-10-26T11:09:58.626-07:00The Vital Behaviors<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpL4SOMR_e9nWMDLs5BzbwK3lAYEBwp63Iirky0WMAexyokow46e7PoB8gOjsamAXGbj3h67L4l4lOuHMa3YiuHqlHDfQkA8IZpvKOw6SenP3Kd27tyFuGJqL0WfAShbDkRQ7MvnzR_rA/s1600/IMG_2550.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpL4SOMR_e9nWMDLs5BzbwK3lAYEBwp63Iirky0WMAexyokow46e7PoB8gOjsamAXGbj3h67L4l4lOuHMa3YiuHqlHDfQkA8IZpvKOw6SenP3Kd27tyFuGJqL0WfAShbDkRQ7MvnzR_rA/s320/IMG_2550.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>At our October mastermind this past weekend, we were all running a little behind and had to do our "check in" in Cindy's kitchen while she prepared the main dish for the dinner that we would all share when the meeting was over and our families arrived. The theme for this month's potluck dinner was Dominican Republic cuisine. (We've had so many meetings we've run out of standard ethnic cuisines like French and Mexican food!) Cindy was at the stove cooking the sauce for what would prove to be a flavorful plantain, meatless ground beef, cheese casserole and the rest of us were helping out. <br />
<br />
While I washed dishes, I shared with the others that sinking feeling I had that I would not make my goal of finishing my book by the end of this year. I was feeling insecure and asked the others what they thought of that. My fellow masterminds are always helpful and encouraging and Linda offered that it was okay and Barbara said to just keep trying. Cindy turned to me while aromas from the West Indies wafted from her stove and asked, "How does it make you feel?" I smiled sheepishly over my pots and pans and said that over the years I'd set countless goals to finish <i>The Red Coat</i> (usually on my birthday or by the end of some important year) and I always failed.<br />
<br />
I couldn't understand what my problem was... <br />
<br />
Cindy, who knows me pretty well, said she thought making goals was important but how one goes about achieving them is the real question! She recommended I read <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Influencer-Change-Anything-Kerry-Patterson/dp/007148499X">Influencer: The Power to Change Anything</a>, a book about how to create the change we'd like to see in the world -- or in ourselves.<br />
<br />
"Take weight loss," she said, citing an example from the book. "How do you lose weight?"<br />
<br />
We all offered our opinions: eat less, exercise more, basically burn more calories than you consume. "'What you're talking about is an outcome, the goal," she said. "The formula "burn more than you eat" describes <i>how</i> weight is lost, the goal, but it doesn't tell you precisely what you're supposed to <i>do</i> to get there, the little baby steps you have to take along the way to 'eat less or burn more'."<br />
<br />
According to the book she mentioned, a person who wants to improve the situation should look for and identify those "vital behaviors" in herself or others that actually work. "For example," Cindy said, "One behavior might be to quit buying snacks at the grocery store so they're not lying around the house to tempt you -- or to avoid walking by that candy shop on your lunch break."<br />
<br />
In my case, the goal is to write faster but a vital behavior might be to refrain from doing other things in my writing sessions (like checking email) or to do a 10 minute timed "freewrite" about what I want to say when I feel I'm getting stuck. <br />
<br />
Whether you are a visionary with a dream or just somebody with a big problem that won't go away, the book describes how focusing on vital behaviors (actions), as opposed to the results, can lead to profound change. And what's great is that you can always test your results! Just come up with a list of behaviors, implement them and see if they yield the results you want.<br />
<br />
For my picture, I snapped a shot of my time pieces -- the alarm clock I set the night before my morning writing session and the egg timer I use for my 10 minute timed writings. I want to change my relationship to time because I never seem to have enough.<br />
<br />
What change do you want to make happen?The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3495170925182385524.post-64758318846409099482011-10-12T22:51:00.000-07:002011-10-15T09:46:13.341-07:00The House You Must Go Into<div style="font-family: inherit;"><style>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Fifteen years ago, when I started to write <i>The Red Coat</i>, I had a dream, which I wrote down in my journal:</div><blockquote style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><div class="MsoNormal">"It is some kind of complex of buildings. It is dark. The streets are empty. Something is going on at one end of it. I set out toward it. I find somebody. I ask them about the complex. I know I have to go straight for that building (the answer lies there) but why? Why? What is there? Then I see Celeste, the serene woman at the pool who reminds me of the Mona Lisa, but instead of her usual self she is RAGING. I hold her at a distance from me and we start to rotate in the air. She is ranting and raging (about something). She is mad. She is yelling AT ME and I am so utterly terrified, so frightened, I throw her over the counter and she is knocked out by something she hits over there."</div></blockquote><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In the journal, I describe how I wake from the dream shaking with fear, unable to get enough air to breathe, shielding my head with my pillow. Why am I so afraid? I wonder. Why Celeste? and why now raging? I try to analyze the dream. I remember someone saying that characters in a dream are different sides of your own personality and I realize that Celeste is the good girl, me, who is raging because of what I’ve done to her, repressed her, her true nature. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">What is her true nature? and what is the house I know I must go into?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I flip a few pages forward and find another entry, written around that same time, a period of unemployment: </div><blockquote style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><div class="MsoNormal">"I called my sister to gather some concrete reasons why, why, why plagued by the wish, constantly, the unhappy need to express myself for my whole adult life... and still, despite all my efforts, all my trying, am no further along than when I started, worse in fact: no work, no income, no food...while others more ? succeed…"</div></blockquote><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I had been laid off after I came back from my maternity leave and had lost my footing in the world, not to mention my income. I finally had some time to write, but I was blocked, and terrified about money. It was during that time, right after the birth of my son, that I began to withdraw from projects and people and associations I was taken up with and started on what would prove to be a long descent into and through the deep layers of my psyche to find, I now see in retrospect, answers to those questions.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The response my sister had to my call would provide a roadmap, whether or not at that time I could consciously and conscientiously adopt it:</div><blockquote style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><div class="MsoNormal">"Marianne encouraged me to accept myself and all the shameful emotions that I possess and to write about these true things. She encouraged me to accept myself, all of me, even the bad stuff and to be who I am...not looking for, not requiring other people's approval." </div></blockquote><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Accept myself, all of me, and write about these true things. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">That is why Inanna and her story resonate with me. After reading my last post, Jack commented that those <a href="http://theredcoatwriter.blogspot.com/2011/09/queen-of-heaven-and-earth.html"><span style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">virtues</span></a> of hers aren't all nice. I agreed but said that the ability to take action in the world means that one must have the power to be both bad and good, to be repugnant as well as pleasing, to be cold as well as caring, to make war as well as peace. Too often we women deny essential parts of ourselves -- we make nice, we hide, we avoid, we push our power down below and out of sight, we silence ourselves -- to be accepted and loved by others. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But at what price? </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">For my picture I chose a collage I made several years ago that I call Underwater 2. It is the uncertain, sometimes abysmal place of the unconscious world, of fear and depth and murk, but also the place where lies the buried treasure. For me it is that complex of buildings I had to go into in my dream. It is the house of my writing.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">What is the house in your dream?</div>The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3495170925182385524.post-23376388084122835112011-09-30T02:00:00.000-07:002011-10-01T08:45:29.038-07:00Queen of Heaven and Earth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbK31y8RrOYEmx-GPuhRwrfLesEotBVAGujw8RDOSdTvKDo1b_bycv9U1X4gikca-vhG8LsRVMCP8m_DJhUqD1YYBVLEiH1MMj9A4mDbzkXy_AZLWf_euiKPtVx2POCan4q81i0W0B8Es/s1600/IMG_2494.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbK31y8RrOYEmx-GPuhRwrfLesEotBVAGujw8RDOSdTvKDo1b_bycv9U1X4gikca-vhG8LsRVMCP8m_DJhUqD1YYBVLEiH1MMj9A4mDbzkXy_AZLWf_euiKPtVx2POCan4q81i0W0B8Es/s320/IMG_2494.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>On my quest for an image of a woman that would serve as both mascot and role model on my journey to wholeness and self-loving, I considered the goddesses of ancient Greece.<br />
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There was one goddess who ruled over wisdom (Athena), another love (Aphrodite), another chastity (Artemis), and another the hearth and marriage (Hera) -- yet the choices felt unsatisfying to me. Why were the goddesses (and gods) of ancient Greece so fragmented, so compartmentalized? You know, one was good to have at your side in an argument, another when you went on a date (or were looking for one!), another when you took up housekeeping and another when you needed to retrieve your childlike divinity -- but not one of them was the picture of a complete woman! <br />
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Here I was in the golden age of our Western Civilization, and not one fully-formed deity! (What was the significance of that, I wondered.)<br />
<br />
And so I traveled father and farther back in time looking for "her" until I came to the cradle of civilization, the land of the ancient Sumerians. Here, in the Fertile Crescent, I found an image carved in stone, of a woman holding a sheaf of grain in her hand and a quiver of arrows at her back who had long curling hair tumbling down her shoulders, a crown of horns upon her head, bright eyes -- and a smile on her face.<br />
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She made me laugh! Who was this woman who had such a sweet smile but was ready to fight?<br />
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The image, from 2400 BC, was much older than the other stone carvings from the Bronze Age that caught my attention. Nevertheless, I was immediately struck by it's freshness and accessibility, attributable no doubt to her amiable countenance. She seemed like someone I could get to know and like. I had to find out who she was!<br />
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I learned that she was Inanna, Queen of Heaven and Earth. Unlike the goddesses in the Golden Age of Greece, Inanna possessed <i>all</i> the virtues. She was a whole person. The ancient Sumerian tablets were translated and retold by Diane Wolkstein and Samuel Noah Kramer in their book <a href="ttp://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0060908548?ie=UTF8&tag=dianewolks-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0060908548" style="color: #f1c232;">Inanna: Queen of Heaven and Earth</a>. In it, they tell how Inanna got all the virtues. The story goes like this:<br />
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Inanna went to visit her father, Enki, who was a great god and knew all things, and after paying her respects he invited her to drink with him at the Table of Heaven. Inanna accepted and she sat down and they began to drink beer together. They drank more and more beer until, swaying with drink, Enki toasted Inanna:<br />
<blockquote>In the name of my power! In the name of my holy shrine!<br />
To my daughter Inanna I shall give the high priesthood!<br />
Godship! The noble, enduring crown! The throne of kingship!<br />
Inanna replied: I take them!</blockquote>Through the driving mists of his drunken stupor, Enki gave Inanna all of his <i>me</i> (virtues) and each one she took: the virtue of war, of incantation, of truth, of dagger and sword, of the black garment, of the colorful garment, of fear, of lovemaking, of forthright speech, of slanderous speech, of song, of power, of lamentation, of the perceptive ear, of the power of attention, of treachery, of straightforwardness, of kindness, of deceit, and so on, until Enki had no virtue left and he fell fast asleep. Inanna fell sleep too and when she woke she loaded up her boat with all of the virtues that now belonged to her and she sailed home. When Enki woke, still reeling of drink, he asked: "Where are all my virtues?" and his assistant explained to him what had happened. Enki sent wave upon wave of sea monsters after her but Inanna held her father to his word and with the help of her secretary she drove back the monsters and delivered the virtues to her people.<br />
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What virtues are <i>yours</i>? Take them!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhjfnlIuw70kjdQP54v2Y46_CQA7NseBwJ3ShTTuWPMCo7YtazJUoxSFhm1AS94apIlo8LPS2hV8g0h638G05vKaoKeFfMkwatdHMSN5vinIU1n0PRjMLvJU66dMkvLRZwXNPGGykt4j4/s1600/IMG_2526.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhjfnlIuw70kjdQP54v2Y46_CQA7NseBwJ3ShTTuWPMCo7YtazJUoxSFhm1AS94apIlo8LPS2hV8g0h638G05vKaoKeFfMkwatdHMSN5vinIU1n0PRjMLvJU66dMkvLRZwXNPGGykt4j4/s640/IMG_2526.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ofMl_6HzgRkHbdyWKsypEQVb5tCMQVmUQFMwKcPupD8Eh-FCSpInp8o6-7uqKHr1DEIZRUbpyQWAaSm243zRRIW-wvNpPREPFQlI2_qSgwjlldOWASPK0Fj54KdYBT1A-bhosDDZMcI/s1600/IMG_2527.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ofMl_6HzgRkHbdyWKsypEQVb5tCMQVmUQFMwKcPupD8Eh-FCSpInp8o6-7uqKHr1DEIZRUbpyQWAaSm243zRRIW-wvNpPREPFQlI2_qSgwjlldOWASPK0Fj54KdYBT1A-bhosDDZMcI/s640/IMG_2527.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ-2C-9zhyphenhyphen6zyto_goDjsLxtG9JNJOtQcYGP0sUfgaMmfS-5qOm2bbv7bZGTVJ3m4ziXRM2Lyinz2ZE6QO_TpATXsW0dl-jDxDWjWMZ6j1bVIG4iUzxEcgt9Fs9k7pGMp8KEOXTg39Vgo/s1600/IMG_2528.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ-2C-9zhyphenhyphen6zyto_goDjsLxtG9JNJOtQcYGP0sUfgaMmfS-5qOm2bbv7bZGTVJ3m4ziXRM2Lyinz2ZE6QO_TpATXsW0dl-jDxDWjWMZ6j1bVIG4iUzxEcgt9Fs9k7pGMp8KEOXTg39Vgo/s640/IMG_2528.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3495170925182385524.post-5605989745236378732011-09-21T00:07:00.000-07:002011-09-21T12:04:25.427-07:00Crown of Doves and Bull's Horns<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ7Bl5vlBhQQ9n5BEGHzips7w4SzvYfg89OL2_3xZIyfd5ggfX5u8Yi-Zb21NOAjIlQxJsItVvCYX9CbOBF-J6Jy5GNGNg7mLDxJsjCLt27Zn-aKLXg2F8ykevXnCDPb-e2w01ZfpRNJA/s1600/IMG_2514.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ7Bl5vlBhQQ9n5BEGHzips7w4SzvYfg89OL2_3xZIyfd5ggfX5u8Yi-Zb21NOAjIlQxJsItVvCYX9CbOBF-J6Jy5GNGNg7mLDxJsjCLt27Zn-aKLXg2F8ykevXnCDPb-e2w01ZfpRNJA/s320/IMG_2514.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div>I studied political philosophy in college and never forgot Niccolo Machiavelli's advice in <i>The Prince</i>:<br />
<blockquote>"Men nearly always follow the tracks made by others and proceed in their affairs by imitation, even though they cannot entirely keep to the tracks of others or emulate the prowess of their models. So a prudent man should always follow in the footsteps of great men and imitate those who have been outstanding. If his own prowess fails to compare with theirs, at least it has an air of greatness about it." </blockquote>My professor raved about this passage because it provided a roadmap for "ordinary" people like us to follow -- but it always bugged me. Why not say imitate great -- people? I mean, weren't there great women in history too? The truth is, I didn't know about many of them. All of the philosophers we read -- from Plato, Aristotle, Kant, Hegel, Nietzsche, Heidegger and Kierkegaard, down to de Tocqueville and the Founding Fathers -- were men.<br />
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Like many women who feel invisible to men and struggle with feelings of low self worth and are unsure of themselves, I kept quiet about it. But later on in life, on my journey to wholeness and self-loving, I began to ask myself, is there an excellence of women? Are we so different, and, if so, what would it mean to be a great -- woman? Since I am a visual learner, I began to look for images that inspired me. How did I want to look and feel? And who would be my role model?<br />
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Like most women, I turned to what was at hand: fashion magazines. While the women were beautiful, I couldn't find any that <i>inspired my imagination</i>. So I turned to art books, and found myself drawn to some of the earliest images, from the Palaeolithic era and Bronze Age, of the female figure in a "gesture" of epiphany. Unlike the demure images of women that I found in magazines for modern women and much more recent art, this ancient gesture of the raised arms signifying a sudden, intuitive perception or insight into the reality or essence of a thing, really spoke to me. <br />
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What image speaks to you? <br />
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For my picture, I chose two images from Bronze Age Crete that I found in a book by Anne Baring and Jules Cashford called <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Myth-Goddess-Evolution-Image-Compass/dp/0140192921/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1316586333&sr=1-2" style="color: #ffd966;"><i>The Myth of The Goddess: Evolution of An Image</i></a><span style="color: #ffd966;">.</span> The figure above is a Mycenaean seal with goddess and worshipers from 1500 BC. The one below is a goddess with a crown of doves and bull's horns from 1400-1200 BC.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7AU6wS8WOJZyxqZiACjSiU613H2fdG-Ozt55iKuOXMBYt4ALjUSmohDwQdgSDsS9SYeUxgGpYxuiBnvD_5BRkkwFpYSByGaOBI96PVcmQvOA5FTztRCf6RAwJu6lr2GWmMJQMBPYRRVE/s1600/IMG_2510.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7AU6wS8WOJZyxqZiACjSiU613H2fdG-Ozt55iKuOXMBYt4ALjUSmohDwQdgSDsS9SYeUxgGpYxuiBnvD_5BRkkwFpYSByGaOBI96PVcmQvOA5FTztRCf6RAwJu6lr2GWmMJQMBPYRRVE/s320/IMG_2510.JPG" width="240px" /></a></div>The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3495170925182385524.post-9104692466270318822011-09-15T00:23:00.000-07:002011-09-15T00:38:23.145-07:00A Woman's Beauty<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZEO4gdUgnokkftI4Y9zSMzVspPfVMBz1SrTRlXpkmBHSBQmQAKFiYgdoJ0R4NJqrl2FKh-XqXUCugpBZDzjshaHVZ954pKl83MuJiu8ZEW1UBMeUwB53ARL7DAvD5FignrGxmChaaCh4/s1600/Prints131+-+2009-06-02+at+21-31-32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZEO4gdUgnokkftI4Y9zSMzVspPfVMBz1SrTRlXpkmBHSBQmQAKFiYgdoJ0R4NJqrl2FKh-XqXUCugpBZDzjshaHVZ954pKl83MuJiu8ZEW1UBMeUwB53ARL7DAvD5FignrGxmChaaCh4/s320/Prints131+-+2009-06-02+at+21-31-32.jpg" width="245" /></a></div>Before our office moved from Century City, I went to the Annenberg Space for Photography on my lunch break to see the <a href="http://www.annenbergspaceforphotography.org/exhibitions/overview.asp">Beauty Culture</a> exhibit that features photographs of movie stars and models by world famous art and fashion photographers such as Tyen of the House of Dior and <a href="http://www.albertwatson.net/">Albert Watson</a> whose celebrity portraits have appeared on more than 100 covers of Vogue Magazine.<br />
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The purpose of the exhibit, which runs through November and features a must see documentary short, is to show the power of the still image in shaping our cultural ideals of feminine beauty and a woman's sense of self.<br />
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Take your friends and family, sons and daughters as the exhibit sparks a lively discussion about our relentless pursuit of beauty and how power co-opts our sense of self for its own end. You need only take a look at the Wall Street traded multi-billion dollar corporations that surround high fashion photography today to see that they are always trying to expand deeper and deeper into your body and psyche -- and for what purpose? The answer is simple. Just ask yourself, "Who profits?"<br />
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But you don't have to buy into it. One of the women featured in the exhibit is my personal heroine, Sophia Loren. She's an icon of feminine beauty for sure, but even the exhibitioners don't quite know where to put her. When you go you'll see what I mean. She stands out from the other beauties as having an undefinable, uncategorizable, incongruent "something". <br />
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In my own attempt to define what beauty and "the red coat" means to me, I came across her book <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Women-Beauty-Sophia-Loren/dp/0688013945">Women & Beauty</a>. I never followed Ms. Loren's career but the book made me a huge fan. In it she gives tips on wardrobe, hair, cosmetics, exercise, dieting and though these are important, she says, the essence of a woman's beauty is something much more.<br />
<br />
Looking back on her career as an actress, she tells a story about working with George Cukor. Cukor was considered a “woman’s director” who had an eye for beauty and a special instinct for developing a woman’s potential. To Loren's great surprise, he did not spend time fussing with makeup and costume. One day, in the course of explaining how a character should emphasize her attractiveness, Loren recalls that Cukor said something that she has never forgotten: <br />
<blockquote><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">"Beauty without self-confidence is less attractive than ugliness with self-confidence. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">If you are confident, you are beautiful.” </div></blockquote>Loren, elaborates.<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><style>
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For my picture, I chose a photograph of me when I didn't know how beautiful I was. Do you have one like that too? <br />
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</div>The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3495170925182385524.post-54372282981960696612011-09-08T00:46:00.000-07:002011-09-08T11:28:13.770-07:00The Art of Haute Couture<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Cf5PVttY3LQxDIWBTMBdkaea6rzFAiwsUX4wfrNUbGR0EaHUDSdUYzyTrEdPx_nTeADIgpe5Lfm8u86B-dJoQSFRqyMV_k7aKkr3fRJpBbTnOeM44yqg8H4t1oopDyeag55R6ovCkrE/s1600/IMG_2485.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Cf5PVttY3LQxDIWBTMBdkaea6rzFAiwsUX4wfrNUbGR0EaHUDSdUYzyTrEdPx_nTeADIgpe5Lfm8u86B-dJoQSFRqyMV_k7aKkr3fRJpBbTnOeM44yqg8H4t1oopDyeag55R6ovCkrE/s320/IMG_2485.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div>I wanted to take a trip up to San Francisco this summer to see the Balenciaga and Spain <a href="http://deyoung.famsf.org/deyoung/exhibitions/balenciaga-and-spain">exhibit</a> at the de Young museum before it closed, but I never did. It was just too hard to find the time to make the trip so instead for about forty dollars I purchased the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Balenciaga-Spain-Hamish-Bowles/dp/0847836460/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1315455684&sr=1-1">book</a> by Hamish Bowles that the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco and Rizzoli's published to commemorate the exhibit. The book traces the influence of the Spanish masters -- from Zurbaran, Velazquez and Goya to Picasso and Miro -- on Balenciaga's designs.<br />
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I am thinking of this tonight because one of the assignments for our mastermind meeting this month is to bring in something that you bought that you considered expensive or unnecessary at the time but are glad you splurged on it. There was a time when buying a book like that, much less taking a flight just to see an art exhibit, was a hard decision for me - even if it could be considered research for my book. I didn't have enough confidence in myself or my work to justify the expense. Or perhaps it was just extremely low self worth. At the time, I envied other artists who invested in themselves, spent money renting out an office to work in, purchased a proper writing chair to sit in, bought gorgeous picture books that helped to stimulate their creativity. What was wrong with me that I couldn't do that too?<br />
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There was one book that I really wanted called <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Art-Haute-Couture-Laura-Jacobs/dp/0789200228/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1315462211&sr=1-1">"The Art of Haute Couture"</a> but just couldn't afford. I saw it at the Barnes and Noble on the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica while I was enjoying a rare night out with my girlfriends. It was 1995 and the book cost 75 dollars. I had just begun to write about Marla Piper and the fabulous red coat that she would sew and the book spoke to me. It was beautifully photographed by Victor Skrebneski with breathtaking closeups that revealed the way couturiers work with line, texture, drape, volume and ornament to create illusion and drama. I had to have it, but there was no way to assess how or when or if the purchase would ever pay off.<br />
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How do you know that the thing that you are working on will be hugely successful one day? That's the question that was posed in our <a href="http://www.facebook.com/FirstFridayMasterminds">mastermind</a>.<br />
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Well I did buy the book -- thanks to the urging of my friend, Barbara -- and for my picture tonight, I chose my favorite photograph in it of a design which I realized only tonight is by the very same Balenciaga. But the reason I chose it is not because it's a Balenciaga. I chose it because one of my fellow masterminders mentioned that it reminded her of The Red Coat Portal that I had painted last year, perhaps unwittingly after the couturier. Or perhaps Balenciaga and I both drew our inspiration from the greatest of all masters, mother nature.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijy1nQcw74G7MTaw9Xks7lOUB_qhTg-R_XV5tGzBldB0Et3E3ZiY1-rGpjkIQSGMV117qSw_4WAGLq9Z9BFBG9M_pmW9UM_SGkdai9KhcUxoZaq5IVhPbJ4LzNyIMGpNboaMc_fWkoFDo/s320/TheRedCoatPortal.JPG" width="240px" /></div>The Red Coat Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07965855743562855570noreply@blogger.com3