So much more than a sex dream... (cont'd)

The beginning of the week has been hectic as I knew it would... but here I am again and continuing with my dream interpretation (to see the dream, see post below)

We are four women... number four, completion, whole and in the feminine!! It feels huge to me, never before has this happen. It is so exciting. Yes, one of them I don't know but hey! I'm on a journey of discovery... and we are being introduced anyway at a later time and therefore I feel it goes in the "right" direction.
Again, the masturbation is a first I believe and again it feels like a celebration and an acceptance of my femininity and of the fact that I am a sexual being. This unknown woman may well represent the cultural feminine lineage in which I grew up as I've got to hide the "culprit" before I am introduced to her. If she does represent this she would believe that human being is not an animal and can raise above the sexual instincts and needs, control them and separate reproduction from pleasure. So yes, I might be accepting my own sexuality but it seems only in hiding from her at this point in time, as if to avoid her wrath! But next, the "dirty", earthy, primal goddess joins me in the form of a petite black woman. The fact that she is petite may well be pointing out to me that she's got some growing to do. But she's a nice looking woman in the dream, she exists and I give her some sexual pleasure without guilt or shame. Am I starting tapping into this sexual energy of mine, after many many moons of repression?

These are exciting times and exciting contents that my unconscious brings up to consciousness.

So much more than a sex dream...

I woke up to a dream just under an hour ago and although I've had others of great interest, I want to talk about this one in particular.


"I meet with some friends at an evening conference in London and as it finishes my friend Stephanie (not her real name) asks that we go for a drink. I'm happy with that. To get back to the street, we must walk across a large store. My shoes and the floor are very smooth and I run and slide on my feet, then run again and slide again, making wide turns in between the racks of clothes. I watch them as I pass by and notice a couple of item and think I might come back to try them on. I'm having fun.
Then Stephanie says it was her birthday not that long ago. I'm shocked and hardly believe it when she says that the actual date is 21st Feb, as it is my birthday, too... We've known each other for a while and I had never known! What a coincidence! She says that'll she'll have a proper party at a later date as her girlfriend can't make it that night.

Then we are 4 women. One of us I don't know but somehow we are being introduced much later so that when it does happen, we've had time to know who the other was and she is my cousin's girlfriend. Just before we are introduced to one another, I was masturbating with a vibrator and I take it off and walk to my bedroom and slide it under my pillow. My flatmate Toni is busy hoovering the lounge and then his bedroom (we avoid each other as we get past). As I walk back toward the others, a black woman, petite in size, comes close to me. We hug each other and we walk together holding each other. I caress her back and kiss her head with tenderness. She likes it and responds positively. When we arrive in the room where the others are, she lies down on her front and I kneel next to her and continue caressing her, her lower back, her bum, the back of her legs, while also watching the other women who have only their underwear on. The black woman opens her legs and I bend closer and run my fingers in her pubic hair. I know I will slide my finger up her yoni next and she moans with pleasure. The other women are doing the same to each other. Then the black woman turns around on her back and I would like to lick her fanny."

I wanted to share that dream because it feels like a celebration the the feminine in general and an almost complete acceptance of feminine values. The dream starts in a rational, masculine and Logos setting with a conference - thinking as opposed to feeling! But it moves on quickly to having fun, being child-like in the store. I'm not quite ready to get those new clothes that I like and that would show a different me to the world but I will come back for them. It is only a matter of time now, or at least it seems.
My friend Stephanie's birthday is not on 21st Feb in real life. I believe my dream is telling me that it is time for me to integrate the part(s) of me that resemble her - research scientist and lesbian, that is combining both the masculine and the feminine world...

I will come back to the rest of the dream later today... or more realistically later in the week! I feel I have been given a real gift this morning and it is only the beginning of the week!! Is it not wonderful?

Pour Bonne-maman

Il y a déjà 3 ou 4 semaines, ma grand-mère de 95 ans est tombée, à moitié renversée alors qu'elle allait rentrer dans l'ascenseur. Elle n'avait pas pensé que quelqu'un pouvait en sortir et certainement que l'autre personne n'avait pas pensé que quelqu'un pouvait y rentrer. Elle s'est cassé une vertèbre.

Bonne-maman, je l'appelle. Pour la 4ème génération, c'est Bonne-mimi.

Depuis 2 semaines, elle souffre le martyr et ne peut que difficilement bouger, et comme le disait si bien Jacques Brel, en quelques mois elle est passée "du lit à la fenêtre, du lit au fauteuil et du lit au lit"...

Et hier, les larmes ont coulé toute la journée, par intermittance. Elle n'a plus envie de se battre. La douleur est épuisante, trop présente. Bonne-maman souhaiterait en finir, être rappelée par celui qu'elle appelle le Seigneur. Alors je suis allée danser hier soir, le "5 Rhythms", cette pratique de méditation en mouvement qui fait vivre les émotions à travers le corps et non la tête. J'y suis partie la tête pleine de tristesse et les yeux bouffis d'avoir trop pleuré, certaine que davantage de larmes couleraient pendant la session. Et puis, j'ai été surprise...

J'ai à peine pensé à Bonne-maman pendant ces 3 heures et je me suis étonnée à sourire, à être bien, à partager qui j'étais dans l'instant avec des partenaires éphémères... Une fois ou l'autre, une pensée ou une question me traversait l'esprit, "où est passée ma tristesse?" Impossible de mettre le doigt dessus!

Pour finir la session, l'ensemble des danseurs forme un cercle au milieu duquel chacun peut jeter les mots qu'il souhaite. J'ai parlé de Bonne-maman, j'ai voulu lui dédier ma danse et lui souhaiter que la douleur cesse, même si pour en arriver là, il faut que ce soit sa vie qui s'en aille - si c'est ce qu'elle veut. C'est alors que plus de 100 personnes se sont donné la main et ont eu une pensée bienveillante pour Bonne-mimi! Mes larmes se sont remises à couler. Des larmes remplies de gratitude et d'amour pour ces gens connus ou inconnus.

J'espère que Bonne-maman a eu quelques secondes ou plus de bien-être. Pour ma part, je me suis sentie soutenue, aidée et aimée.

When neuroscience "meets" psychology but doesn't see it...

What an interesting scientific result I’ve just heard this morning! I didn’t think I would ever be excited about science anymore… The funny thing is that the woman telling her results wasn’t actually completely convinced herself and said she remained very cautious because she’d only studied 10 subjects. But let me tell you more about her study.

She takes 2- and 3-days old babies and while they’re asleep, she makes them listen to either classical music (Bach and Mozart) or spoken words (language). While this is happening, the babies are monitored by a technique called fMRI that allows observing which part of the brain is activated for a given task/action. What she saw in those babies is that a specific part of the right brain hemisphere was activated when the music was on while it was a part of the left brain hemisphere that lit up in the machine when they were talked to.

The woman said that she was very surprised that differentiation between the two brain hemispheres happened so early in life and she wasn’t expecting this. I wondered why she was surprised: language is a sound that is structured, rational and follows well established rules; it would therefore have to activate the left, logos, masculine brain hemisphere. Music on the other hand falls into creativity, diffuse awareness and feelings and would have to be picked up by the right, creative, Eros, feminine brain hemisphere. Still, I realised quickly that I was the only one in the group of people she was talking to for whom her results made complete sense.

I felt rather frustrated that they couldn’t see the bigger picture but I decided to keep my mouth shut, mostly because of the professional body that I represented in this event. This study serves so well psychology… Yet, it is so surprising to scientists that they can’t believe it… Shame!

Sunday morning

Waking up at 6am on a Sunday is nothing unusual anymore. But getting ready to board the Eurostar makes it an exciting day for many reasons - meeting with my parents during the day, with Rosa for dinner, with my gran on Monday while she's decided she'd had enough with life. An exciting day also because I've made up my mind to change my hair with dark red layers...

But something much better tops my list of excitments...

The new life opening before me - filled with compassion, empowered by love, nourished by an intense spirituality, instilled by a growing sense of self-worth and humility... Compassion and love seem to open my chest and give space to a heart crippled for too long. Nourishing and mothering come first and spread large and wide within me leaving little or no space to the negativity that used to rule my own kingdom.

After a difficult winter, spring is coming soon and fast - I feel it inside as well as outside!

Love

Love.
A burning charcoal
Glowing red
Always warm
Never consuming

Love.
A flying dart
Hitting the bull
Always confident
Never missing

Love.
An open heart
Strong heartbeat
Always pouring
Never going empty

Love
Bigger than me
And bigger than you

Love
With no end and no limit

Women (4) - Standing up for oneself

He checks
Then double-checks.
What I do and don't do
What I say and don't say

Will be wrong
Will bring shame
Will awaken guilt.

But for the first time in my life
I shout
and scream

"Shut up you soul-eater
I'm not afraid
I don't owe you
Neither one nor two.
Get lost!"

And I am still alive and well...

Sacred tears

Something new has happened to me in the last few weeks, something that I hadn't expected. Now, looking back, there's nothing really weird about it really.

Every day as I travelled back home directly from work a sense of immense sadness would wrap my entire body and mind as I stand or sit on the tube, my heart would remind me of its existence, heavily loaded, or burning. I would look in for the entire journey and finally open the sacred door of my safe haven and the tears would flow, finally... Not easily at first but as days passed I have sometimes become a fountain offering to the world - to my world - a very personal and salty water. Amazingly my whole being would feel lighter as the tears dry up of their own, my heart would stop burning, my chest would open to the possibilities of the evening and a real positive sense of myself would somehow have crept in without my notice...

I wonder how much of those tear come from a real need a closure for my working day, a place and time where and when I have difficulty being myself and showing who I am. I know I am still putting the mask on as I close the door in the morning.
I wonder how much of those tears weep the small irritations and of the day.
I wonder how much of those tears heal the ancient sorrow and grief and shame that others - and myself - had never allowed in the open.
I wonder how much of those tears run down my cheeks for some unconscious reason still to be uncovered.

Whatever their reason to show up they're welcome because each time, very simply, they take me home.

Elle et moi

Pourquoi j'ai le cafard?
Je n'ai pas de nouvelles.
Pourquoi je broie du noir?
Je m'éloigne d'elle.

Elle c'est moi
et moi c'est elle.
Elle ne me connait pas
Je ne sais rien d'elle.

Elle est une étrangère
Je ne me reconnais plus.
Comme un bibelot sur une étagère
Qu'on a assez vu.

Que doit-on faire d'elle?
Je me sens mal.
Comment me rapprocher d'elle
Sans me faire encore plus de mal?

Rien ni personne ne m'arrête.
J'ai perdu toute ma confiance
En ce qui va apparaître
Et en ceux qui me font des avances.

Je tends les mains
A qui veut les prendre.
Elle espère que demain
Quelqu'un va l'entendre.

clairem --- 16 fév 1990
picture --- (The helpful shadow)

Bretagne en hiver

Le vent, la pluie
Que c'est joli !
Le vent, la pluie
Qu'est-ce que ça me dit ?

La mer en hiver
Ses moutons déchaînés
Ce vent si fier
Qu'il faut s'incliner.

Les arbres en sont déracinés
Les toits tout retournés
Les rues toutes inondées
Et nous dans tout ça ?

On a peur d'être emportées
On vit avec la mort
Attentives
Comme un pilote dans son mirador.

Dire que les gens sont furieux
Parce que les stations sont fermées
Ici pas de touristes
on est seules et appréciées.

clairem --- 15 Fév 1990

The invisible

Like a herd they hopped on
Buzzing, wild, strong and defiant
Tall and short, handsome or spotty
They're one of a kind with their uniforms.

Trousers down to expose their fashionable pants
Ties half undone
Nike rucksacks to complete the picture
They feel safe because they belong.

The leaders get off at the next stop and
The atmosphere grows quieter.
A free electron takes a seat
Seemingly looking out by the window but...

Really, throwing side-glances for a potential follower
Dying out to be called back in the circle.
He puts a brave face but
The world is heavy on his shoulders once again...

When another group of 10 leaves
There's only one to say good-bye.
The wrong one, though, the odd number
His heart sinks a little deeper and weeps.

He's the only one left as the train departs
He's the outsider living further afield
Beyond the borders.
He's invisible.

Who's that girl?

Who's that lovely girl
not feeling the sweet pain of longing?

Who's that sexy girl
not seing men as lovers or predators?

Who's that grounded girl
not getting lost in wild fantasies?

Who's that courageous girl
feeling safe looking at people in the eyes?

Who's that assertive girl
capable of changing her mind or crushing her principles?

Who's that confident girl
feeling home anywhere she goes?

Who's that vulnerable girl
giving an outer life to passing emotions?

Who's that artist girl
believing in her art?

She says she survived the long years of desertic conditions and witnessed
Climate change.
She says there is no way back.
At times storm-like, volcano-like or war-like
She invades, spreads, grows and takes over.

Change of scenario

One month tomorrow. Just one more month.

Moving out after 4 lines, acts, chapters, lives!
Whatever the time, it's been long enough.
Need a breath of fresh air, or two... I have outgrown the place.

I cannot hide any longer.
There is a life to be lived, to be loved, to be laughed, to be embraced...
I cannot let the show go on.
There is a twist in the story that needs integrating...
I can talk to the author but the decision is mine
There is no possible compromise...

The move will take place.
One month tomorrow. Just one more month.
A split second.
An eternity.

Birthday

It was my birthday yesterday and for once it felt good to say so, to be seen, to have some attention even if short lived and not necessarily by the people you like most.

I went to the baker next door, bought this whole chocolate cake and brought it back to work. I cut it and colleagues asked me "iwhat's the occasion?". "it is my birthday", I said. It was interesting to see their reactions; looking embarrassed, ashamed not to know (how could they when they arrived in the Department 3 months ago?), feeling gulty not to have bought the cake themselves, awkward for unknown reasons...

Inside I felt good, I felt present, I was home, I had just turned 36 and I was doing well. The sun had appeared to greet me after so many grey days and falling rain all night. The wetness of the ground reflected the strong sunlight and sent me signals that we were entering the third part of winter and that Nature has started her slow process of awakening toward Spring.

Later I met up with my friends except for the two closest of them who didn't make it for different (and good) reasons. Had I known it long on advance that they wouldn't be there I might not have organised anything. Instead...

... I did enter a new year without them. I look at this as new beginnings, new horizons, new insights, new way of relating maybe. Instead...

... we were 7 of us around this table sharing a good Spanish wine. For some unknown reason, seven (7) has always been my favorite number.

Seven by four makes twenty eight. 28 is the moon cycle. 4 is the number of stages in the moon cycle (new, first quarter, full, last quarter) and it is also the symbol of wholeness. 7... the rhythm necessary for change from one stage to the next...

It might be time for change and entry into another stage of the cycle.

Chinese New Year

Don't believe what my complete profile says. I'm not a rat. I am a pig. Indeed, a pig, according to Chinese Astrology. Given that it comes back every 12 years, that makes me ... 12, 24, 36, 48, 60 or 72... I won't go further that would really be pushing it.

Anyway, I missed the parade in London but I was on time to be with the crowd. Trust me... Today they estimated 275, 000 people between Trafalgar Square, Leicester Square and Soho. It was a mild, windless and rather grey winter day and as expected it was noisy, busy, smelly, colourful, friendly...

I took pictures, lots of them but you'll have to come back and revisit to see them as I still work with films I'm afraid. My Canon EOS 500 works still beautifully and I haven't got the money to buy something equivalent in digital... I've got other priorities! One day, maybe!! But the films are now gone to be developed and hopefully I'll upload (or is it download, I never know...) them this coming weekend.

Witches at their incantations

For the first time in years, I walked in the National Gallery in London. With no preconceived idea of what to see and where to go, I mostly wandered around some rooms, in awe of the architecture of the place, until... I was suddenly stopped, compelled to turned around and I fell on this painting by Salvator Rosa. This is what Wikipedia says about him:
"Salvator Rosa (1615-March15, 1673) was an Italian Baroque painter, poet and printmaker, born in Naples, but active there, Rome, and Florence. As a painter, he is best known as an "unorthodox and extravagant" and a "perpetual rebel" proto-Romantic. His life and writings were equally colorful."

Voilà des années que je n'avais pénétré dans la National Gallery à Londres. Je n'avais de plan précis et j'ai donc déambulé d'une pièce à l'autre, complètement émerveillée par la beauté du lieu jusqu'à ce que soudain, je m'arrête sans raison et me tourne - comme forcée... face à ce tableau de Salvator Rosa. Voilà ce que dit Wikipedia:
"Salvator Rosa' était un poète satirique, acteur, musicien et peintre italien né en 1615, près de Naples à Arenella et décédé en mars 1673 à Rome. La devise de Salvator "aut tace aut loquere meliora silentio" figure sur son autoportrait
.

I am not usually a great fan of this period but I simply fell in love with that specific painting. So much so that I actully bought a A2 size print of it... Darkness, fear, horror, disgust, sour smell, shame... don't they carry some traits of ours we've managed to forget and bury??

Je ne rafolle pas de la peinture de cette époque mais je suis tombée amoureuse de ce tableau et en ai acheté un reproduction sur le champ... noirceur, peur, horeur, écoeurement, odeurs néabonde, honte... n'a-t-on pas confié à ces sorcières des traits de caractères qui nous appartiennent et qu'on a réussi, plus ou moins bien, à oublier et enterrer?

Women (3) - gathering strength

The cage won't be shut locked
Well-trained animals go wild again
The circus is dying
You're ready
to take off your clown's mask
show your face
be real

The cage won't be shut locked
The dogs have smelt one another
They're barking sheer strength
You're ready
to fight
stand up
be loud

The cage won't be shut locked
Boats depart in wild waters
The hurrican is racing to the finish line
You're ready
to go all the way
exist
be counted

The cage won't be shut locked
The moon appears on a sunny day
Rounded and full
You're ready
to give up the shame
make yourself proud
be a woman

clairem --- 28 Dec 2006

Noël

Je sais qu'on arrive à mardi gras et que ce petit poème arrive bien en retard...


Dis-moi où est l'espoir
Sous les montagnes de paquets multicolores
Derrière les sourires forcés et emmurés

Donne-moi une raison de croire
Que tu fêtes plus que ton pouvoir d'achat
Que tu as d'autres valeurs que celles de la bûche et du foie gras


clairem --- 27 Dec 2006

Laisser partir

Ce sont toujours les écharpes préférées qui s'envolent les jours de tempête
Les colliers les plus affectionnés qui cassent les premiers
Les vidéos adorées qui s'usent à vitesse grand V
Les bons amis qui partent les premiers
Et il faut apprendre à vivre avec...

... puis sans.

Vers le retour

Plus d'une fois c'est arrivé que je m'arrête
Lasse, exténuée et emmitouflée dans des frusques empruntées
Jusqu'à me casser le nez contre un mur d'apparence inébranlable
Debout là, juste au milieu de mon chemin. J'ai eu beau chercher
Pas moyen de faire l'école buissonière
Et j'ai enfoncé le stop trop tard
La bande cassette s'est fait bouffer par une tête de lecture ayant passé l'âge

Ca faisait longtemps que ca me pendait au nez
Mais faute de temps, de moyens, de courage, de savoir faire?
Peu importe
Je n'avais cessé de remettre à plus tard
"Aller, juste une petite dernière pour la route"...

A tâtons j'ai cherché à comprendre
Un instant pleine d'espoir de savoir comment traverser
Au plus court, au plus vite, et oublier...
Le suivant frustrée, désespérée, enragée
De continuer à tourner en rond.

Les mirages se sont succédés
Les saisons chaudes et puis froides
Combien de fois suis-je repassée là-même où je m'étais cognée?
J'ai arrêté de compter...

Mais c'est drôle, le mur viellit et s'affaiblit
par endroits où j'ai pu passer du temps
assise et découragée parfois même terriblement inquiète.
La découverte forcée de ce mur
m'a enseigné toutes ses beautés cachées
Ses hontes et ses côtés ténébreux et noirs.

Je redécouvre la main de l'artiste qui l'a érigé
Moi-même
Dans des temps reculés
Où c'était une question de vie ou de mort
Comme j'ai survécu je l'avais oublié.

La cheminée fume
Les senteurs du printemps chatouillent mes narines
Il y a quelqu'un chez moi pour m'accueillir quand je viens.
Je suis sur le chemin du retour

clairem --- 13 Feb 2007