Time is melting into a cup of tea like in Dali’s “persistence of Memory” painting.
A dull winter air, in which you want to fall asleep and wake up in the spring; everything feels so static that I can hear my own breath.
My lips sip from the tea with an enviable friendliness and a feeling of warm comfort. A silent peace envelops the numbness of my body like a snake around its prey.
The remembrance of my roots come with an avalanche of pain in my bones. I wish I had a magic hammer to break this ice castle built from all the screams of my female ancestors who were kept in a slavery box and told to behave by the men-hive with a dictatorial crown. You would think that the times when a woman was acting in her natural wild nature and called a witch or a nut-case for having healing powers or plants knowledge are over in our contemporary times. However you still see it all over the world - that if a woman stands out politically or socially and she points out at a male ruler that his ways don’t serve a greater good, or if she speaks for the ones without a voice, her motives will be considered, as she has „gone wild”, therefore, crazy. She doesn’t fit in the social terms made by misogynistic men. Through time, moulded to be saints, to serve the males, to „have it all together”, to be good daughters, wives and mothers, at the stake of killing our wild nature, violating our psyche’s knowing nature.
The psychoanalyst and storyteller Clarissa Pinkola Estes strengthens the idea of women’s emancipation in her book “Women who run with the wolves”:
“We can see from similar events that have occurred over our lifetimes that when women do not speak, when not enough people speak, the voice of the Wild Woman becomes silent, and therefore the world becomes silent of the natural and wild too. Silent of singing, dancing and creations. Silent of loving, repairing, and holding. Bereft of clear air and water and the voices of consciousness.”
The whispers of „The songs of Maldoror” by Lautremount are echoing in the room with a hollow sound, calling for attention like a ghost in a cemetery. Opening the book on the last page I left it the other night, where a shiny crow feather that I found on a walk in Blackmore, was stewarding the precious manuscript.
“One day, a glazed look in her eyes, my mother said to me: ‘When you are in bed and you hear the howling of the dogs in the fields, hide yourself beneath your blankets, don’t make a jest of what they are doing: they have the insatiable thirst for the infinite, like you, like me, like the rest of us human beings with our long, pale faces. I will even permit you to stand at the window and see this spectacle, which is rather magnificent.”
I wonder "How many worlds do we create just with our thoughts?" giving my tired brain food for reflection. An innocent smile escapes from the dramatic white walls and the old oak cuckoo clock gets to my head making me aware of its presence in all this theatre taking place in the attic.
"Tick tock, tick tock, it is 3 o’clock Tick Tock tick tock, what’s under the rock? Tick tock tick tock, Here’s the key you find the lock."
Since when do the clocks talk I’m asking myself bewildered?
„Just because you don’t see it, it doesn’t mean it’s not there, Kraaaa kraaaaa” says a big crow whirring her wings on the balcony’s windowsill.
I nearly fainted with both surprise and confusion as this felt as real as a corrupt government in a post-soviet country. „I cannot believe my eyes, who are you and why are you here?” I’ve asked the strange crow. „My name is Mystic Meg, milady and I came to take you to the Underworld, kraaa kraaa. I knew you were chosen when you picked up my feather in Blackmore. You know, nothing is a coincidence in my kingdom, kraaaa”.
„The Underworld? Does this even exist and who said I want to go there?” I’ve asked in the heat of the moment.
„Didn’t you wonder about the worlds you create outside your human reality, kraaaa?” the crow questioned. „Well, yes, yes, but I didn’t think this can be a real thing!”
„Bless the Skies, kraaa kraaa, of course it is, my precious child! We have no time to waste! Burn my feather from your book and say out loud three times:
Alakazam Shazam, Horns of a ram, Song of a clam, Dust of a scam, Bam badabam, In the Underworld I am then blow the ashes and let the spirit of the Western Wind to do its work, kraaa kraaa."
My curiosity and excitement were over the ceiling and I didn’t hesitate a moment to utter the spell that the crow Meg has given to me. The words were coming out naturally, like I’ve heard them somewhere else before. As soon as I stated „in the Underworld I am” for the third time, a whirlpool of energy and golden sparkles were spinning around me in a hypnotic vortex ; however, in less than seconds, before I realised, I’d been thrown into a very unexpected place – a crossroad. There was no crow in sight. All around, the dark, mysterious veil of the twilight was injecting the fear of the unknown under my skin. I was feeling like I’ve entered a painting of Beksinksi where the sun says its last words before going into the prison of the Night.
There was a scary silence covering the roads, no wind, no sound and although I couldn’t see anyone around, the gaze of an invisible presence was haunting me. The idea that I’ve entered into another dimension was making things even more terifying. And everything was so real and I was so aware. „What should I do now? Which road should I follow?” I’ve asked myself in despair. It was getting dark and cold, and the chance of getting somewhere safe seemed to fade.
Suddenly, I felt an icy blow to my face and I fell on the ground with a fear of death, screaming from the top of my lungs. As I said, there was no sign of wind there whatsoever! My heart was jumping out of my chest and I couldn’t control my racing breath. There was a very unpleasant discomfort, like I didn’t fit in my body at all. My skin started to ache and soon enough I understood why, as I could see birds trying to make their way out from my chest, my arms, my belly and then my legs. I thought to myself, „this is it, I’m dying”. The idea of death through pain becomes ten times more terrifying when you experience it on your skin.
I cried out loud in the well of the sky „I am not ready to go. Gods, please help me!”
And as if the Universe listened, like I knocked at the door and somebody opened, the face of a guide appeared in the dark clouds with a luminous face. I would recognise him from a million, it was Carl Jung, the grandfather of my shadow journey!
He said to me with the kindness of a guru: „My child, your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes. Listen to your intuition, it will guide you everywhere you go.” And as he said that, his face dissipated into the nothingness, while I was still comprehending the human suffering with birds escaping out of my skin.
„What a cryptic advice, grandpa Jung, thank you for your help in these dark times.”
My thoughts were as loud as a barrel of monkeys around a fire, but I’ve closed my eyes, took a deep breath and thought of home, as there is no better feeling in the world than being at home. I could see my mom making some mouth-watering cheese pies, flooding the whole house with a tempting smell that was enveloping like an octopus. The dare-devil cat playing the saint around her legs and the logs burning peacefully, sending messages to the clouds through the old chimney.
I stopped feeling any pain and as I opened my eyes, all the birds that were trying to get out disappeared into the thin air. To my surprise, I was back into the village I grew up in, I was back in my home-land! I could recognise the roads I ran on as a child, the secret hyde-and-seek places, the trees and even the rocks.
It all seemed so natural, until I met the first person on the road who looked rather strange. The body was almost human, but the head was diamond shaped with a pale yellow skin, with bull horns and big vivid green eyes that were piercing me.
The Being says: „Good afternoon” to me, like any villagers would do in a small community and tells me with a male voice „you should check the dances they do outside the village hall, it’s a lot of fun there and your mom is dancing so beautifully”. Before I had a chance to respond, the Being walked further on his way.
I was more confused than ever and definitely not in a mood for a party after the near death experience, but the need to see my deceased mother made me run towards the dancing place with the speed of light.
When I reached the village hall, my eyes were on stalks and I jumped out of my skin. There was a carnival atmosphere, with costumes, dancing and merriment amongst the villagers - and I could see the strange creature joining in with the festivities.
I laughed and thought to myself „Did Leonora Carrington dress everyone up here”?
The view reminded me of one of her well-known paintings called “Dream – Nephesh as the soul in a state of sleep” and as she didn’t like to give away or explain any of her creations, I felt a greater urge to bathe myself in the depths of the mythical scenery that came to life in front of my eyes! Hybrid beings were dancing and the earth beneath their feet was on fire from all the energetic movements, there was so much joy, that I wanted to jump in the middle of them, like in a sea of chocolate.
And then I notice her, being so careless, so young, a beautiful human between beasts, her black raven hair floating on the waves of music and dance. An urge to go and hug her struck my heart, but I couldn’t let myself interrupt the dance and just stopped in a corner to admire her a little longer. “Mother, you are here”.
Bewitched by the intoxicating view, it felt like the time stopped. The dust, created in the dancing trance, started to slowly transform into a darker and darker mass. A bleeding Moon covered the joyful Sun and I rubbed my eyes like a sleepy child in the morning to make sense of what’s happening around me. The dark mass took the form of a feathered snake and was turning into ashes everything it touched. It was all happening so fast that as soon as I screamed “Mother”, the snake had already blown her ashes into the wind. A voice inside that sounded like the voice of the crow Meg told me to run and run fast. I was crying like I’d just been born and out of the blue the desperate tears rolling down my cheeks were turning into sparkles of light. They were building a sort of path that my intuition told me to follow and I had no choice but to listen. My tears took me to the womb of the earth – a cave that looked quite grim, but had a nice feel about it. I wasn’t feeling scared anymore, the stone walls were protective like my mother’s arms. “The danger is left behind”, I thought. The painful sparkly tears entered a silver chalice that was sitting in the middle of the cave, along with a big bronze gong and three candles – a black, a silver and a white one. And again, the same familiar voice whispered into my ear “hit the gong for three times, drink your tears from the silver chalice and say out loud: ”
“Lady of the underworld, guardian and gatekeeper, I invite thee, I invoke thee, I seek thee; Unlock the gate to know life deeper Hecate, return my Self to me. She will help you find your way back home, to your reality. ”
As if hypnotised by the voice, I followed all the instructions that were given to me by the mysterious voice. The loud sound of the gong made the rocks inside the cave tremble, my tears from the chalice looked as clear as mountain lakes and the three candles all lit up at the same time, like there was a movie director behind it, manipulating the image. The flames metamorphosed into three women that I knew for a fact that were the same entity. It wasn’t the first time I came across the goddess Hecate. There was a Maiden coming out of the white candle, a Mother figure from the silver one and a Crone from the black one. The Mother was carrying a baby in her womb and had a labyrinth tattooed on her neck, she was wearing a black floating silk dress with bell sleeves and a woven belt that was holding 9 silver keys. The Crow Meg was sitting loyally on her shoulder, to my surprise.
On her crown made of bones, the triple moon was encrusted in rubies, sapphires and obsidian crystals. She was the one holding the torch and started speaking to me with the voice of three:
“Welcome to the Underworld, my child! Are you lost?” she asked with a very feminine voice.
“Yes”, I answered with bewilderment, “I’m looking for a way back home, back to where I belong.”
“Your home is everywhere you feel safe, my dear. Meg has told me that you’ve had a grasp of what’s hidden beneath the layers of your reality and you succeeded at learning the ways of the old ones,” said Hecate, looking at me with the eyes of all the ancestors.
“To be able to realise the depth of this world was a very precious gift indeed, even if it came at the price of suffering. To see my mother even for a minute was a blessing I will always cherish, thank you” I responded with gratitude.
She smiled to me like Mona Lisa and took out of her belt one of the shiny silver keys, saying, “You’ve earned your way back, take this key and let the rocks speak to you, they know their ways. When you find the shiniest rock, touch it with this key for three times and say
Alakazam Shazam, Horns of a ram, Song of a clam, Dust of a scam, Bam badabam, Back at home I am”
She handed me the key and wished me good luck. Meg flapped her wings once more crowing out load “Until next time, my lady! Don’t forget to keep your window and your mind open! Kraaa kraaa”!
As she said that, they all disappeared into a black mist, leaving the cave as empty as a dessert. And for another time, I was left alone with another challenge to face. At least, this time, I had a key that granted me the way back.
I started looking for the right rock, but they all looked the same and the darkness in the cave didn’t make it any easier. I couldn’t help myself trying all of them with the silver key given to me. After a few minutes of searching, I got tired and blamed the key for being useless and threw it at a wall. As nothing is a coincidence in everything we do, when the key fell, it melted down. The rocks started rattling like bones and where the key melted in the gaps between the rocks and a sort of silver shiny thread emerged. My face lit up and I followed it with content, knowing that it will take me to the right place and I wasn’t wrong. Soon enough the silver thread surrounded a big rock with a labyrinth sculpted on it, that took the same colour. I knew this was it!
I’ve put my hand on the old rock and thanked it for the help and guidance. The key I’ve thrown was now in the middle of the labyrinth. I took it back and touched the rock for three times as Hecate taught me and gave power to the spell that would take me back:
“Alakazam Shazam, Horns of a ram, Song of a clam, Dust of a scam, Bam badabam, Back at home I am”
The whirl of time has taken me back to my bed where „The songs of Maldoror” book that I was finishing reading was laying on my chest. I was holding the crow feather into my left hand and when I looked at the clock, it was 3:33pm. What a nap and what a dream I got myself into, I thought to myself. We run away from the fantasies of our mind considering them as being non-sense, but the depth of our imagination is more vast than the ocean. And only those who dare to explore it by facing their fears, can learn the secrets of the universe.
I poured myself another cup of tea, while some dogs outside were barking as if calling to infinity. I curled up under the blanket and continued my reading with a comforting feeling of being safe and warm.
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