freedom, writing and passion fruit

This past weekend someone asked me 'what do you write?'.

After an initial moment of embarrassment I said I write poetry 'and other poetic things', but was lost describing what I really write. I stuttered something about also drawing and being allowed 'to be really bad at it'.

Nothing like positive self talk.

But there was a time - more like a moment - when I told others I do 'textual anatomy'. I'm not sure how that translates to what I'm doing now, though, however gorgeous the sound of it.

Textual. Anatomy. Its writing and drawing together, poetic-like. It has a body and soul.

But is it worthy of an audience? And what is it all about anyway?

An email that blared its message to me yesterday reminded me that if I want my blog to be noticed I ought to be writing content my 'target audience' wants to read.

The marketer in me bristles at this, picks fights with my inner artist who in turn declares 'marketing matching principles' to be a load of creativity-stifling dogma.

'Write the story you want to write, not the one they want to read' comes to mind - sage advice from a well known author - nose-thumbing any imaginary group of people 'out there'.

I want an audience, a subscriber list, a following. I care about the people who read this - readers. You. So it looks like its time to define things here a little more clearly. Here goes:

I write about alchemy, myth, archetype and astrology. I write about how I see the world around me, the metaphors - the poetry - of life. I write about psychology as Hillman' sees it - an 'ology' of psyche - of soul.

Writing, for me, is like a relationship - it changes me, challenges me. I grow with it, and it grows with me.

Drawing is different, it comes from another place in me and keeps me honest. I know I can't draw and I don't mind. Its like I have no 'drawing ego' - no attachment to how my drawings 'turn out'. I don't have to think. What I see with my heart goes on the page without censorship or judgement.

I put the drawings and writings together because they are meant to be together. That's what I do; that's what's going on here.

So - what is 'bibliomancy'?

I started 'bibliomancy' as a means of inspiration some time ago. With something on my mind I choose a book from the pile, open it at random and without fail something meaningful falls off the page. Of course all the books in my pile are full of 'meaningful' in some form or another. But what happens for me here is relevant, divinatory, angelic.

And synchronicitous. Sometimes cryptic, always mysterious - above all requiring a stretch of the imagination and a mind open to new ways of seeing things.

This week life has shown me how free I am now to be who I am and let go of outdated ideas of how to relate to the world - in not so subtle ways. Events are telling me that there's support for me to carry on doing what I do and that I can expect good things to continue to flow.

My last post concerning the eclipse and taking care of the junk in my life. Getting into a space of allowing good to flow preceded a miracle and a spray of smaller gifts - free things that fell into my hands. Things that give me freedom, time, money, space and clarity.

Not least of these, I notice now, is the vine growing over the fence. It was here when we moved into the house a year ago - the only thing growing aside from two neat and tidy patches of lawn, front and back.

Through winter the vine crept along the fence at the side of the house, hidden from view, originating next door. It posed a contrast - a steel sheet fencing and minimal concrete wall against this unruly, lush, shiny leafy creature.

Spring sprung large white flowers with deep purple centers and it sprouted curly feelers everywhere. I worried that the drought would destroy it - such an impossible task to make fruit with so little sustenance. How could that happen?

Now its a dark green jungle with passion fruits dropping out of their hiding places onto the ground. Each one is a surprise to me and a message that life is abundant - that even without faith, even without intent - with nothing at all from me - from dark and unexpected places - beautiful things grow.

This is who I am and this is what I write.