Following on from the last chapter in the adventure, I thought I would share with you the following journal extract that came from my own Clearing the River exercise, back in 1999. It is strange and also uplifting to return to these writings, to read what signs and messages came through at the time. That is why I find keeping a daily such an important part of the journey of being a Wild Woman and a writer. It allows me to listen closely to the intuitive voice, to stay in touch and to remember that this is the voice beyond all external voices.
Extract from the Clearing the River visualisation - March 1999
By the riverside, the tall larch trees grow
threadbare in winter coats of lichen green.
The sun shines on the water, low milky light
refracted through a spectrum lens.
I am halfway up the gorge, my fingers
red and dirty with clay that crumbles at my touch.
A woman comes to me, with moon-milk skin
and stars for her eyes, singing quietly to herself.
The river flows. I sit on the ledge, alone.
She calls to me. I catch her gift.
I have a star in the palm of my hand.
You, Star-Goddess, woman of mine, have left it here.
You stroke my cheek and brush my hair,
lay my head upon your breast.
Now rest, you say, rest.
She places a star upon my head,
another in my womb.
I reach inside my mouth,
take out an apple seed to plant.
The tree grows strong, with blossom rich and full.
I open my hands and see
a hundred stars, rain diamonds
caught by the nets in seas of turquoise and monarch green.
And so I sit, with the sun, the stars and the blossom
of the tree I planted from my seed.
All energy works best when in harmony.
The boat I have built is strong.
Ride the edge of the wave, swim the river of life.
Without a road, there is no reason to move.
Without a path, there is no purpose to heal.
Travel with the care of love and respect.
Only you can give these things away.
No one can steal them from you.
Live a little, dream a little.
Hold a hand at sunrise, walk in sunset.
See tiny bubbles of life in the water.
Sometimes calm, sometimes fizz,
this is how a full life is.
Ride the river and live this way,
both calm and wild; alive.
Come to the fire, look into it.
What must die so it can thrive?
The past, the past must die.
What must be nourished so it can live?
The Wild Soul that seeks food and love.
Know that you have been in exile all your life.
Embrace the edge of the wave and end your exile.
I must shed my clothes and stand naked in my grief.
I must cry the tears that would fill a hundred seas.
Clear away the old and let the new shoots grow.
I put my hands to the earth and dig.
A single crop of blood falls, new life takes hold.
I enter into the desert, its sand blown by a hot wind.
I meet myself in the emptiness, but not alone.
I sprinkle the garden with stars.
It is not magic, she tells me
but still, I can spread light.
(Victoria Bennett)
Journals give away a lot too. When I look back, I can see the times I was avoiding listening deeply by the pages and pages of trivia that purposefully refuses to see the blindingly obvious. I am able to see where I am repeating the same cycles, where the old harpies rise up, where the deep song speaks and where I grow too, and how far I have come, even when it can feel like staying still. Sharing our journal writing has been an important part of our group journey, and it is also a safe space for our own, private experiences.
In between the pages, the true voice can learn to sing. I know of many women who begin their journeys hiding their writing, finding inventive ways to take time out to write in their secret journals, hiding them in cisterns or under carpets. The Wild Woman is cunning. She always finds a a way of giving that space to howl, so that one day, when you are ready, you can just come right out and howl in public, with pride and passion!
EXERCISE
If you haven't already got one, go out and buy yourself a journal. Some people like to have plain notebooks, others like to have something ornate. Sometimes, I like to have the cheapest of children's exercise books, so I don't feel precious about scrawling in the pages. Whatever draws you to it, choose your journal as your friend, and begin to make space for writing every day. If you here a voice saying: "but I don't have the time" - you are hearing a HARPY (we will come to those later!) If you are doing this, here is a tip: everyone needs to go to the toilet, and it is usually the one place with a lock on the door. Start by writing your journal on the loo for 5 minutes a day. If nothing else, you will probably unblock something!
Extract from the Clearing the River visualisation - March 1999
By the riverside, the tall larch trees grow
threadbare in winter coats of lichen green.
The sun shines on the water, low milky light
refracted through a spectrum lens.
I am halfway up the gorge, my fingers
red and dirty with clay that crumbles at my touch.
A woman comes to me, with moon-milk skin
and stars for her eyes, singing quietly to herself.
The river flows. I sit on the ledge, alone.
She calls to me. I catch her gift.
I have a star in the palm of my hand.
You, Star-Goddess, woman of mine, have left it here.
You stroke my cheek and brush my hair,
lay my head upon your breast.
Now rest, you say, rest.
She places a star upon my head,
another in my womb.
I reach inside my mouth,
take out an apple seed to plant.
The tree grows strong, with blossom rich and full.
I open my hands and see
a hundred stars, rain diamonds
caught by the nets in seas of turquoise and monarch green.
And so I sit, with the sun, the stars and the blossom
of the tree I planted from my seed.
All energy works best when in harmony.
The boat I have built is strong.
Ride the edge of the wave, swim the river of life.
Without a road, there is no reason to move.
Without a path, there is no purpose to heal.
Travel with the care of love and respect.
Only you can give these things away.
No one can steal them from you.
Live a little, dream a little.
Hold a hand at sunrise, walk in sunset.
See tiny bubbles of life in the water.
Sometimes calm, sometimes fizz,
this is how a full life is.
Ride the river and live this way,
both calm and wild; alive.
Come to the fire, look into it.
What must die so it can thrive?
The past, the past must die.
What must be nourished so it can live?
The Wild Soul that seeks food and love.
Know that you have been in exile all your life.
Embrace the edge of the wave and end your exile.
I must shed my clothes and stand naked in my grief.
I must cry the tears that would fill a hundred seas.
Clear away the old and let the new shoots grow.
I put my hands to the earth and dig.
A single crop of blood falls, new life takes hold.
I enter into the desert, its sand blown by a hot wind.
I meet myself in the emptiness, but not alone.
I sprinkle the garden with stars.
It is not magic, she tells me
but still, I can spread light.
(Victoria Bennett)
Journals give away a lot too. When I look back, I can see the times I was avoiding listening deeply by the pages and pages of trivia that purposefully refuses to see the blindingly obvious. I am able to see where I am repeating the same cycles, where the old harpies rise up, where the deep song speaks and where I grow too, and how far I have come, even when it can feel like staying still. Sharing our journal writing has been an important part of our group journey, and it is also a safe space for our own, private experiences.
In between the pages, the true voice can learn to sing. I know of many women who begin their journeys hiding their writing, finding inventive ways to take time out to write in their secret journals, hiding them in cisterns or under carpets. The Wild Woman is cunning. She always finds a a way of giving that space to howl, so that one day, when you are ready, you can just come right out and howl in public, with pride and passion!
EXERCISE
If you haven't already got one, go out and buy yourself a journal. Some people like to have plain notebooks, others like to have something ornate. Sometimes, I like to have the cheapest of children's exercise books, so I don't feel precious about scrawling in the pages. Whatever draws you to it, choose your journal as your friend, and begin to make space for writing every day. If you here a voice saying: "but I don't have the time" - you are hearing a HARPY (we will come to those later!) If you are doing this, here is a tip: everyone needs to go to the toilet, and it is usually the one place with a lock on the door. Start by writing your journal on the loo for 5 minutes a day. If nothing else, you will probably unblock something!
2 comments:
wow! I am always amazed by the fantastic sponateous writing you do in response to writing excercises!
I have to back you up and say writing a journal helps, I know that I wouldn't have written novels without mine. It helped me catch at thought that were only half formed and showed me my own innovation. Looking back I can see the trail of crumbs my unconscious was laying out for me to observe closely, in the way a young child does, when everything is wonderful- even the mundane.
What amazed me was the relevance of this piece of writing to a later period in my life, as though it was a foreseeing of a path I would take...mind you, that is part of the wonder of journal writing, to realise we know more than we let on to ourselves at the time, isn't it?
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