Celebrating Shamelessness

"Dartmoor Pony near Haytor" photo by Orion Trenshaw-Leggett

Embracing Natural Intelligence

"This is a trickster moment in history,” the wonderful Martin Shaw asserts as he contextualizes the role of myth and story in our time. And it HAS been an extreme time of quickening.  It seems like it's all falling apart. But like Arundhati Roy shares:

"Another world is not only possible, she is on her way! On a quiet day, if you listen carefully, you can hear her breathing."

And like this breath, and the flow of stories and myths shared, genius lives in the margins… betwixt and between. From the edges, as I digest the deep beauty and wildness from the last 5 day Passionate Presence retreat Diving in Deep here in Devon, I am stuck by how our access to wilderness within and without is our confirmation.  Through time in nature, it confirms our natural intelligence.  Through dance, it clarifies our deep knowing. Through creative expression, it connects us to each other and the greater web of beings and life. We are broken open to the vastness that lives inside. And on an incredibly mundane level it simply cuts through to what is real and raw and authentic. How efficient.  How truly sustaining and sustainable.

This is not necessarily easy, but it IS very simple. And these insights feed the community in which we live. Powerful myth, I am also reminded by Martin, also feeds community.

And that leads me to recount the mythical story of Tatterhood*:

In the story of Tatterhood, the King and the Queen who cannot conceive seek fertility counseling from the Gypsy mother who lives on the margins of society.  They are desperate and so they resort to the margins.

In this symbolically rich story the Queen does indeed conceive and become pregnant after following strict instructions to take the bed outside and sleep in the woods. She also must bathe under the stars and return her bathwater to the earth.  And she must eat the white flower that grows from this watering and magic making. She eats the white AND the red flower as she cannot resist and it has consequence.  Of course it does.  It is a natural process and it is a myth.

The queen gives birth to twins.  And from between her quivering thighs, Tatterhood emerges first, riding a goat, covered in a furry hood and carrying a spoon raised and begging for food from the moment she emerges. Her sister comes second. She is fair, blond and exceedingly beautiful. She is also cooing, compliant and quiet. These sisters experienced many adventures and transformations. And what is most moving to me as I experience this story as if for the 1st time is the partnership between complementary forces; wild and tame, raw and refined, agitation and calm, masculine and feminine, fierce and passive. The deep love between the sisters allows space and the deep embrace for wildness, shamelessness and natural intelligence to arise.

The twins are inseparable. Together through adventures and courage, they create wholeness in each other and support each other’s fullness. They are without shame.

And when the 2 sisters at the end of the story have a joint wedding, Tatterhood's deep and utter beauty is at last revealed by simply being seen for who she really is by the masculine. Her goat becomes a stallion, her spoon becomes a magic wand and her hood becomes a feminine bejeweled crown.  And this "shameless" wild "creature" is even more beautiful than her lovely twin sister.

So here is to getting confirmed by deep wilderness. And here is to wisdom that lives betwixt and between. And here is to being broken open to the vastness that lives inside us all, and sustaining and feeding our communities. Just listen closely in the stillness of your heart, and you can hear her breathing without shame.

*Note: A Special note of gratitude to the amazing beings who made the Diving in Deep retreat such a powerful week, and to Martin Shaw for his highly skilled wholehearted sharing of story and soul at the Consciousness Cafe January 26 at the Barrelhouse in Totnes as a part of the Transition Town Totnes Movement.

for more information on Passionate Presence Center for Creative Expression offerings see www.ktrenshaw.com

The Dance of a lifetime

My dad died just over 18 years ago at this time of year. I realize that qualifies as a lifetime ago.  And rather poetically my son managed to be born on exactly the same day that my father died. We come. We go. (No pun intended.)

And every year at this time I think about my dad and these 2 juxtaposed life-altering experiences. Death. Birth. And what I am struck by this year is another favourite memory of my father…and how he may well have had a part in my deep love of dance. I don't remember where we were when this happened. I am sure it happened on several occasions. I can tell you we were somewhere in the Midwest United States in the late 60’s or early 70’s. 

I CAN remember the sensations and smells so clearly. The swooping feeling. The giddiness and grinning from ear to ear. The movement made my dark auburn curls sway back and forth. And then there was the dusty wooden floor and faint scent of women’s perfume and men’s shoe polish. The thrill and delight and ecstasy of feeling safe, supported, and cherished. My huge giant of a father waltzing me around the slightly dull worn oak dance floor with grace and ease and delight.  And light is what I felt… both a physical weightless quality and a giddyness as well as a kind of unstoppable radiance beaming from my heart.

It's the little things that matter.  And as I remember and still grieve my father, this little memory brings me great joy in the deep dark grey of winter. So always remember dads, cherish your daughters.  Let them stand on your shoes and dance them around the ballroom while you still can. The  grace and beauty of that dance will last her whole life long.

108 Prayer Beads

108 beads on a prayer necklace them[1]. 108 beads on a rosary. 108 words. How about simply seeing if I can string together 108 words plus or minus a few as prose, a poem, a blog?

Scrap of a crescent moon is suspended against inky black sky. fifth day running for these rare Clear cloud light skies. The plumes of smoke from Icelandic volcanoes seem to be holding travelers hostage and Devon’s suspended in glorious sunny clear days.

And silent skies deafen as birds take up their songs again, undeterred by white noise in the background.

Another day passes. Slow waking from saddened heavy slumber. And yet, chickens get fed, cats spiral in on themselves, projects progress in their own haphazard and chaotic fashion, Logic of a higher source takes over, paperwork progresses barely scratching the surface... but the itch is slightly less as I piece together my life again.

Reinventing. Re-creating. Re-membering what perhaps I never knew.

Returning to source illuminated enough by a scrap of a crescent moon.

[1] Prayer beads or Rosaries are used by members of various religions such as Roman Catholicism, Orthodox Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, Sikhism, and Bahá'í Faith to count the repetitions of prayers, chants or devotions. They may also be used for meditation, protection from negative energy, or for relaxation.

The earliest use of prayer beads can be traced to Hinduism, where they are called Japa Mala. The most common mala have 108 beads.

Prayer beads From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prayer_beads

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[1] Prayer beads or Rosaries are used by members of various religions such as Roman Catholicism, Orthodox Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, Sikhism, and Bahá'í Faith to count the repetitions of prayers, chants or devotions. They may also be used for meditation, protection from negative energy, or for relaxation.

The earliest use of prayer beads can be traced to Hinduism, where they are called Japa Mala. The most common mala have 108 beads.

Prayer beads From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prayer_beads