...and I've flown south....

again! I know I know, but life just keeps getting better and better and why not move this blog to a platform that is more efficient and user friendly??

come and see the new look me at www.danaesinclair.wordpress.com

mercury stands still

daemone est deus inversus ds '09

"But in the unconscious is everything that has been rejected by consciousness, and the more Christian one's consciousness is, the more heathenishly does the unconscious conduct itself, if in the rejected heathenism there are any values that are important for life - if, that is to say, the baby has been thrown out with the bathwater, as so often happens. The unconscious does not isolate or differentiate its objects as consciousness does."

(Carl Jung, Answer to Job, p 100)

bibliomancy for the new moon (solar) eclipse in aquarius...

"...the vision of soul given by anima is more than just one more perspective. The call of soul convinces; it is a seduction into psychological faith, a faith in images and the thought of the heart, into an animation of the world. Anima attaches and involves. She makes us fall into love. We cannot remain the detached observer looking through a lens. In fact, she probably doesn't partake in optical metaphors at all. Instead, she is continually weaving, stewing, and enchanting consciousness into passionate attachments away from the vantage point of a perspective..."

(James Hillman, Anima)

bibliomancy for venus - uranus

'groom'

The Lover comes, the Lover comes!
Open the way for him!
He’s looking for a heart,
Let’s show him one.
I scream
“What you come to hunt is me!”
He says laughingly,
“I’m here not to hunt you but to save you.”

(Rumi)

the language of the birds...

you look more like a magpie these days '07

Writers write every day. Artists create all the time. That's what I'm told - a real writer is compelled toward setting words in print, come foul or fair. In worst of times, the true writer will come up with just one word rather than fail to create.
Julia Cameron, author of The Artist's Way , insists that many self proclaimed 'writers' are in love with the idea of being a writer but when it comes down to it are without the drive or the stamina to do the work. Others possess talent but internal voices of critics past and present snuff out any sparks of motivation or inspiration. There's also a category of women, in Cameron's Way, who produce baby after baby rather than show up at the page and answer an artistic call. Fruit of the womb as a substitute for real world success is the gist of that bit of pop-psychology.

You can imagine that someone such as myself, who has indeed produced baby after baby and not much else (by some standards), who may well be one of those who are in love with the poetic image of the solitary but brilliant artist and who could just as well qualify for the other, would be suitably shamed and chastised by all of it and duly set a course of remedial action.

Actually, no.

There comes a moment in a person's life, hopefully for all of us, when the realisation dawns that enough means enough, that yes there are difficulties, possibly some cellulite (I jest!) or a lack of funds, but these needn't be a reason not to accept oneself and one's life completely as is. Exactly as is. Not the potential of oneself, not the idea of how one could be, and not the way one would be if all the problems were overcome. Yes, just like this.

There also comes a moment of reckoning (and I'm having one of these) - a kind of straighten-up-and-fly-right type message from the divine. It hasn't escaped me that after over a year of drawing birds and working with words I've moved into a house where the previous occupant went to great measures to repel all things feathered. The now fully laden fruit trees in the back garden are enclosed in a gigantic metal cage - which at first glance looks like an aviary but is designed to keep birds out. Every now and then a cheeky little bowerbird will squeeze under the gate and help himself to some windfalls while I watch with admiration - with that much determination the little guy is welcome to anything he can get. Even with the limits set in a most obvious way, life thrives.

Work with what you've got, the signs all say, no remedial action required other than what it takes to move from stone-still to action - openness (and maybe a small measure of that little bird's cheekiness).

So what if one isn't built for creating epics - one can always come up with an haiku or two. If there's only a small gap in a busy day (perhaps otherwise filled with nappy changing, runs to school and the market and the like) there's still opportunity enough to look around and notice things - to see life in one's own way - get under the fence and be inspired.

And if all else fails, take a look at what has been created so far.

In honour of Mercury's retrograde phase, I'm doing a review of my work - including some of my favourite bird drawings.

there goes my angel... ds '08

waiting for moonrise ds '08


unfinished business ds '08

balsamic sparrow ds '08



heron now ds '08

happy new year...and a new era

"...Yet since the process of individualisation has reached a stage at which it has become a public issue, and the attainment of a state of consciousness, free and autonomous individuality is presented in one form or another all over the globe as the ideal goal of human evolution, the trans-Saturnine planets play a critical role even at the sociocultural level..." (Dane Rudhyar, The Astrology of Transformation)

and for a new moon in sagittarius (that almost slipped my mind)

"Attention to the qualities of things resurrects the old idea of notitia as a primary activity of the soul. Notitia refers to that capacity to form true notions of things from attentive noticing. It is the noticing on which knowledge depends..."

(James Hillman, Anima Mundi)

bibliomancy for the end of an era...

'magician' d sinclair '08

"...'the death we speak of in our culture is a fantasy of the ego,' and from that perspective we lose touch with subtlety. 'For us, pollution and decomposition and cancer have become physical only.' He notes that in the great art of other cultures there is a different kind of sensibility with respect to dying, one that has faded from our attention and become part of the modern unconscious and of the psychic underworld..."

(Stanton Marlon, The Black Sun: The Alchemy and Art of Darkness, 77)