i had intended to write the follow up our girl sedna yesterday - but with the news from london - i got a little sidetracked. so, now that the world seems a bit less insane, back to navel gazing.... sedna's myth archetype can be applied so many ways and can mean so much to so many people.
she can be a symbol of learned hope for humanity (if we only learn to treat each other better things will be alright and perhaps the cycle of terror will diminish).
she can be a symbol of ecology (the misdeeds of man falling into her ocean causing her take away valuable food source).
she can be a symbol of the cycle of abuse (a young girl treated poorly by her father with the subsequent physical/emotional isolation and rage at others).
the list literally goes on.
two visitors commenting on my version of the sedna story had different feelings toward the tale. my dear imajica heard it as a cry of desperation at being single. lovely newcomer johnny newt stood awed by the power of those arctic dwellers and their resilience to survive in the face cold and frozen nature. and there are others to whom sedna means something all together different. this is the magic of myth - the archetypes translate in so many ways. we can often recognize aspects of ourselves in these stories (or aspects we wish to draw upon and cultivate).
when i decided to tell sedna's story - it was because i have recognized a bit of her within me. that is to say i've been somewhat in recess from the world and in a lot of ways, unable to fully connect (i can't even meditate properly these days!). to some, these may sound like grim knocks on the hollow doors of sadness or loneliness - but they really aren't. this reservation and self-imposed isolation doesn't have even the faintest tinge of negativity, so far as i can tell.
these 'removed from the world' feelings could be for many reasons. i've been out of full-time work since december (and i'm used to being a nine to fiver). it could be the shift of season into summer. it could be that i'm getting used to setting my own schedule and by being more in control of my days, i'm getting more territorial over them. or it could be something else all together.
i feel the pressures of the world calling... a cousin's wedding in saskatchewan in august, my parents wanting me to visit alberta this summer, phone calls to return, emails to respond to, plans to be set to meet with friends and acquaintances, resume to brush up, contact to be made with my industry friends to start shaking the trees for work, on and on and on and on. we all have things to do - i'm not looking to garner pity for my situation - i don't need or want pity or empathy.
the oddness of the moment is simply that i am heeding a desire to have less and less to do with the world. i don't want to go to saskatchewan (who can blame me, really?), i'm not feeling the need to go to alberta (usually it's a good place to recharge from life - but hey, who am i kidding, i've been recharging for a while now & i feel good!), i think i'm scared to fix my resume and contact industry folk - it's so hard to look for work and so brutal to be constantly rejected by the working world - it's so easy to take it a a personal slam that the cool kids with paying jobs want nothing to do with you. (perhaps this is the kernel of avoidance).
the other day when i wrote i'd been thinking of sedna lately it was because i feel i identify with a certain aspect of her these days. isolation. the feeling of sitting silently and quietly on the floor of the world. all things continuing as they should above my head and around the edges of my awareness. i feel the role of the watchful observer - surrounded by life, but not part of it.
i know it is only a matter of time before i allow myself to play the shaman in this tale and will visit and wash away my detatched observations. the key is - i will allow it, or not. the whole feeling of choice and choosing to be passive or active. even though it is summer, i do feel passive. rather that let the welcomed heat from the sun energize me - i seem to be hoarding that engery. wearing it around my aching shoulders as a weight - instead of drinking the restoring tonic to lift me up and into full charge.
it is a wonderful ride and i'm happy for the seat. for someone who is normally in such control of her own crashing force, it's an odd sensation to feel the inability to harness that force.
experiencing experience is delicious and i am going to devour this tasty treat.
[music | david bowie, "ziggy stardust"]
3 comments:
i'D HAVE TO AGREE, SOMETIMES ARE TRANSITIONAL PHASES ARE THE ONLY THINGS THAT CAN REALLY GIVE US NEW DURECTION. If our life can be seen like a traveling through a forest,leaving an old path for a better one usually involves getting a little lost first.
I feel your point of view. I feel like I can see the distant shining light and I yearn to bask in its glow -but I cannot find my way. Patience actually working against me as I trudge headlong into what seems an impossible dream. I walk on. Thanks 4 the good thoughts.
imajica - you are right, hovering for a bit can be good and i think i'll take my turn at it...
johnny newt - thank you so much for your comment - i like the idea of getting lost in this forest for a bit... like being in a place that's not a place, in a time that's not of this time... when i tire of playing the maiden of the trees i will emerge with stories of my time with no roots. boy oh boy do i ever feel like i'm on the verge of a new direction... thank you again...
john-reuben a. milton - thank you for your visit to my little page - and if i may offer some words to you - if you're feeling the need to move in the direction of that distant shiny light - move toward it. trudge, walk, crawl, whatever the form it takes - but move.
it's when we feel the beckoning, but do not heed it that the hovering no longer becomes constructive. gather your new prespective up as you leave the forest, but leave it indeed.
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