Place
“I lost my place, now what?” I stumble. Homeless? Unbound? Unhoused, as if the verb is superior to the noun in our verbal, Yang society where the bootstraps are readily available to those few sporting designer boots.
Home is Mother. Mother is place. Place is Matrix. Matrix is DNA. DNA is where you are. You are in place. What happens when you lose your place? Are you disoriented?
“Mommy! Where are you? Are you my mother?” asks a duckling wearing a headscarf. A poignant story from my children’s youth.
Speaking of dizzy, a spinning ballet dancer will focus on the same place at each turn to prevent the dizzy. The usual handle that steadies me, is gone. To maintain balance, focus on the same spot on every turn. Focus on a place to stay in control: upright. The regular system that has oriented my ritual melted. I am now dizzy in the dark. Misplaced.
Mother’s Language
Place is Mother’s soul language. We emerge from Her into a reality, not of the mind’s choosing. Why am I here? Because those who came before emerged from here/her? Mother brought me into this air from her water body. This place lives around and within.
Why do conquerors impose their own language on to the conquered? Invader language is then required, while Native language is punished. But it is a feeble attempt, never successful. Do people speak from their minds, or do we speak from the place from whence we emerged?
The chemistry of place
Place is not just where you come from. Place is what you are made from; the earthy spot, the chemicals and processes that created your body. The air that filled your lungs at birth. First breath has a personality. In-spired-ation; to be penetrated by the father, the spirit of life, awakened.
Place is where the Two manifest as One. The one yew. You. The Tree. The Pearl. This is called Malchut in Kabbalah. This is the Bride of Christ in Christianity. This is The Temple. We are within the Temple, and we are the Temple.
As he dives into the bottle of milk, Mickey says, “I’m in the milk and the milk’s in me.” He is drinking and swimming in it. Ask the fish, “How’s the water today?” It just might answer, “What is water?”
Place is more important than we realize. Wars are fought over places. We think they are fought over ideals, but that is a ruse to justify the aggression. When we believe in a reason for a behavior we can do horrible acts. Justifying any action through ideals can make a person love or conquer.
Stealing a Place
The worst thing humuns do is take over a place that they do not come from. The most cruel and sinful action is genocide, because of this. The people are connected to their land through the grace of a divine contract. There is no excuse or logic or reason that will correct this sinful behavior. We have a long history of this conduct throughout time, over many cultures. We tell ourselves that we are more capable of using the resources of their place.
Genocide; gene = inheritance + side = killing = Genetic Murder. What do we inherit? Genes. Medline Plus says, “A gene is the basic physical and functional unit of heredity, made up of DNA.”
“Go somewhere else!” We tell them. Will they allow a foreigner to move into the front yard? Will they approve the foreign customs performed on the lawn beside the rose bush? Like the clearcuts in Oregon, where do the deer and crows go when their cover is gone? Do they move into another critter’s home? A deer ghetto or diaspora?
Sidenote
“Go away!” There is no place called Away. No such place.
Extremes happen is this world because the Two Gods are searching for their boundaries and we, their divine proxies live out their curiosity by going to the very edges of possibility where we stare into the abyss and the abyss stares back. That is Gods’ territory. Formidable.
Matricide
In this day and age I seldom hear wimmin speak kindly of their mothers. I did not. My pals were all raised by feminine monsters, too. It’s a curious thing. So many innocent young girls, each one equipped with a universe inside her tiny body, will grow up to be a horrible harpy who hurts her children with her dreadful wants and needs. What is going On?
Was there a time when we loved the night? When have we honored the Dark? When did we begin to fear the Dark? We are now in an Age of Too Much Light.
“But friend!” You say in all honesty. “The Devil and Evil are dark. We must fight and fear it. More light! More bright! More God!” And I answer with the simple truth.
“The Dark is your mother. Dreamtime is her language. She speaks, but you are not listening. Relax the left nodule in your head and accept that you speak her language. Do not deny Her.”
The mothers of many modern generations have gone mad because we have refused to hear their conversations. Shut up and hear them. Hear them with your throat, in your belly, between your legs and when you walk on dirt. Feel the mothers speak into the soles of your feet, like the Elephant listening for distant water.
The Clam’s Place
The clam is lunar. She has boundaries; the shell, a temple. She is soft inside; the matrix. She produces a smooth jewel from the substance of her soft body. She responds to the push and pull of Moon’s cycles. She roots in a place with a foot that holds her securely on that place. When we pull her away from her spot, she is delicious.
Bird Places
Bird on a wire. The birds lined up along the wires above us are living in their traditional places. The ancestors of that place roosted in trees of that time. Modern birds are living exactly where their ancestors lived. Those ancestors found shelter in the trees. Their descendants occupy the place that once was shelter. The shelter is gone, but the place remains. The wires must suffice.
The Tortoise
We are much like the tortoise who stays close to her specific tuft of grass from which she eats with her mouth and sustains with her piss. Earth is our collective tuft of grass. Every town is our personal macrobiotic tuft of grass that sustains and renews in its seasons.
Genocide is not just murder of some people, it is the obliteration of souls. The ghosts of another murdered mother and her dead children still live there. Who would like to move into that place?
I could use a little help here. Comments are food for a Libra Moon in the Fifth house!
For the price of a coffee, you can be one of my he/roes; her/oes. It’s a bargain at twice the price!