"You are engaging in madness. I feel obliged to accompany you" and musing with 'Pathosophy' by Azul Thome...
You are engaging in madness.
Yesterday after watching a very disturbing french documentary - Hold Up - about the possible horror happening behind the scene of covid I saw my giving up, my wish to die rather than having my freedom taken away even more.
I did not want to see what will happen to me or the beings I love. I was horrified to not be able to see my family. I am experiencing the crumbling of my livelihood. Feeling the loneliness and powerlessness...but worst of all what could I DO in the face of such a worldwide sickening and so frightening madness ? I think we have passed the hummingbird story of doing individually all that we can. It might be a time for the murmuration of starlings now, working together in unity. And the teaching of mycelium is coming into our psyche again through books, talks, psilocybin and the return of the fungi. It is time to get together, go underground and create a mycelium of support and resistance.
ALLIES and GUIDES
I remembered my childhood archetypes/sheroes and heroes like Boudicca, Mandela, Tree, Pocahantas, Hypatia, Robin Hood, Kali, Gandhi, River, Lords of the Ring, Le Petit Prince, the Suffragettes, Raven, Dr King, the courage of the people of Beirut, the Jumping Mouse story, the Four Sisters of the Last Forest on Earth story...
MADNESS and WILD GRIEF
Last night I howled and screamed in ways that could have got me 'locked up and down'. I felt fury, rage, lostness, fear, sorrow with stretched claws and thick fur, with sharp long teeth eating the moon.
I felt in ways that no city dwellers can allow themselves to do or can dare remember how. For the fear of going mad or being ostracised and locked in is too great. So we take the blue pill even if its promised bliss is a slow killer. I remember days taking both the blue and the red pill. I propose a third element...
CEREMONIES and HIDING
I still hide to enable my wild grief to bring me back home to the wild truths, unless I'm in ceremonies with other humans. These ceremonies have stopped due to the 'lock down' and restrictions...it costs our psyche and our heart greatly. So they must be internalised, they must go underground, they must keep happening in secrets, in the forests and in our psyche.
The touching of madness, the crashing down beyond the level of gravity, the rage of my nomadic soul to be locked down, the disorientation and terror of the lack of congruence in our leaders and neighbours, the pains and suffering, the sleeping and waking in a state of torpor...they all become a gate toward the deepening understanding of my human family.
These are not just personal states of being. may we not be caught in the emerging net of the next pathology: Long and post COVID.
I now see that these experiences of dis-ease are a response to our freedom being taken away from us.
A gagged scream due to the trauma of knowing our elders are locked in their room with a key, unable to be touched by their grandchildren or by the sun. Future mothers are giveing birth with a mask, the children are beaten up and masked and forbidden to touch and be touched in kindness! Many of us cannot travel to see our loved ones.
We know that what we are obeying does not make sense and that the root of the word obey means 'listening' not losing our humankind rights . Yet we want to be good citizens... But when a situation is called a war with an enemy to win over...we have lost our freedom. A very madening dynamic.
We know that there is a fat great lie seeping into our daily cup of tea. That there is no more debats, no press with integrity left, no freedom of speech about the situation of covid. If we say - hold on a minute, let's challenge this - we are called conspi-racists...or...or...
I let you fill the dots with your own experience...
It is deeply disturbing, I long to sit with each one of you unmasked in the forest around the same bon-fire to share our uncensored truth. But fear has sipped in our own hearts now. It will take great practice and discipline to stay awake!
So this morning I woke up pledging to fight for freedom and fearlessness until the day of my death.
The words came this morning:
I will die in the fight for life and freedom composting terror when it comes.
I will find my tribe in the mycelium of resistance and join them in service to all that matters,
I will not live and die in pacifying comfort . I will live and die for Sentient and Civil rights.
I will keep feeding my well and wise ancestors while seeking their support,
I will keep seeking the solace and wisdom of the trees, the children, the mycelium, the ravens and the river.
I will let the bird songs remind me of mine.
I will keep my appointments and gasp in joy at the rooks being on cue at dusk and dawn announcing the shift in things.
I will keep painting and making the conversations beyond words to listen to our beautiful mamatay.
The memory of our ancestors were kept and passed on to the children through songs, stories, ceremonies and rituals. They also had the sonlines and the ways of seeing the invisible gold threads of the mycelium of connections of the great web of life.
An other musing
When we 'become ill' there are choices opening to us. Important and vital choices of how to position ourselves within the constellations and systems available to us for healing.
We can identify with the ill-ness or/and identify with the Alchemist, the Medicine person in us who is longing to be initiated into their full beingness.
WHat I am saying is that - We can identify with Pathology or 'Pathosophy'!
I have been deep diving with the word Pathosophy and its medicine for many months now...an astonishing and opening journey...
When we become dis-eased we must remember that it is not a failure, something to fix, to hate, to even adore, to shame, nor something to use as currency for all the past suffering never composted...
Illness is NOT an invitation to the insane medical industry, that grew around our suffering, to join in...not always and mostly not.
Our suffering is absolutely NOT a permission to be owned through the naming of our pains, by pathologising it, medicating it, categorising it and essentially owning and gagging our freedom&capacity to become intimate with the ecosophy of our living world!
I see too many people profiting and making insans fortunes by keeping people entangled in a system that is rooted in fear of grief, terror of death, dismembered from soul and beauty.
A system that has no more filament of connection to the living world, the invisibles worlds and the well and wise ancestral world.
I propose that -The illness and the disease can become the raw material, the prima materia that the Artist and Alchemist within us can create a workshop, a forest, a lab around .
.All is there to initiate us to become a fuller, wiser, ripened human being.
I have been ill most of 2020. It has become an experimental event. I am becoming the alchemist through also being, the ill one, the illness, the lab, the paintbrush, the paint, the howling, the despair, the delight, the awe for it all, the suffering and the wisdom born of it all. It became an entity and a deep exploration which is still going on.
I call Her
"PATHOSOPHY: The Wisdom born of suffering"
I drew a triangle with Pathos (suffering/feelings) Logos (reason/study/logic) Sophia (feminine divine wisdom)
Within the triangle lives an interrogation mark. Anima Mundi stepped in for a while, then the Field of Rumi and today it is empty again.
I thought that Pathosophy wanted to be away from pathology but today she turned back towards it and a marriage of the three, PATHOS, LOGOS and SOPHIA has taken place.
I am curious to know how this lands on your hearts, bodies and souls.
I sense that there might reside something here that could be of benefit to many ill and pained people right now...
To move from an over identification to suffering, to the wisdom born of suffering...to move from the illness within to the medicine person longing to be initiated within the ill one using the illness itself to make gold out of lead...and in that way we initiate our world a little.
And words from Khalil Gibran on
River of Words and Images by Azul Thomé: