Romanticism of the Soul

Romanticism of the Soul

Fear, hysteria, mania are intense physical sensations that encompass one’s entire body carrying all the emotions into a subterranean portal with many tiny dimensions.  Small cubes one on top and within each other at the same time.

These frenzies can provide intense pleasure filled with unrelenting pain, not unlike an orgasm of the mind.  Several sensations or emotions coexist.  You are an outcast yet a member of a very particular and unique club.  Your mind is constantly being sharpened against the rough hewn stones of external life familiarities.

These rooms though seemingly constrained transcend their self imposed boundaries and limitations.

The viewer becomes voyeur casting an omnipotent omnipresent gaze upon embellished spans.

There is no feeling of isolation, claustrophobia or alienation because freedom can be attained just across the short horizon.  The windows provide access, escape from any type of imprisonment.

Transition

Rooms opening upon rooms. Secret compartments each hiding a facet/gem yet to be revealed. I used to dream that the home I grew up in had extra rooms. My Dad used to tell me he had the same dreams.

Many times my life is a maelstrom of conflicted emotions. Have I yet found what Virginia Woolf called “a room of one’s own”, a tranquil space essential to the life and work of an independent woman?  Where is her safe space?

It seems to me that I am not myself except in my sacred space.  My room as it were creates order out of chaos.  This is my sanctuary an area of protection and safety, which no one can violate.  No human can soil my internal or external worlds with sordid comments meant to destroy my inner being.  I go to the river to wash off the grime of the outside world.  Dipping seven times my flesh, soul, and spirit return to me anew, cleansed, refreshed from the soot and stain of desecration.

Even within the sanctity and security of my home I often feel the need to create alter egos, avatars, 4th dimension personas to help me navigate a landscape populated by unseen landmines that only my avatar can avoid or withstand the blast.  In lieu of therapy I allow one special avatar, Taijhena Mona Lisa Ormand to work through all my trials and tribulations.  Not that I don’t experience these hardships personally because I do, but Taijhena searches out absolution.  Taijhena Mona Lisa Ormand is on one side of the spectrum and a new avatar LaVinia is the fortress architect.  LaVinia creates a haven for lost souls such as mine.  Only LaVinia has the key.  No lover though he possesses my body will ever claim ownership of my soul.  I allow the feminine divine to have full control.

LaVinia has the power to break free from the small confined spaces of the various interior rooms transcending the terrestrial hold on my soul through a portal from which can be glimpsed an old world garden wrought by nature imbued with past souls.

Lately Taijhena Mona Lisa and LaVinia have joined forces allowing visitations from both sides of the threshold.  We are the three Furies working alternately at the spinning wheel and the loom playing out the threads of life weaving them into a fantastical tapestry.  Was I Metis deceived by Zeus, assimilated into his being yet redeemed through my daughter Athena who sprang fully from the head of Zeus?  Therefore within me is all wisdom and knowledge of both genders in all ages.

Anytime I’m dissatisfied with the present reality I retreat to my parallel universe populated by created forces over which I have total control or at least most of the time. Occasionally the inhabitants may get out of hand but my fellows are allowed to stray from their appointed pathway only in the greater scheme of further ends I’ve already predestined for them.  Sometimes the Angels assigned to guide have me morphed into alternate beings, with the ability to inhabit the glories of past and future worlds both terrestrial and celestial.

Each chamber of my mind has a doorway that opens to Flights of Fantasy Realms with many alter-egos and avatars each vying to pilot my celestial dream ship.

These dreams and fantasies become my true normal. Normal is the Pharaohs of ancient Egypt coupling with Flappers of 1920s America producing a race of superhuman beings and biomorphic forms who populate the fourth dimension world of Modern Art. The dissolute household, Isis, Ishtar, Nzingha, Makeda, Storm, the Borg Queen Lilith, Juan de Pareja, phantasms from the paintings of Tanguy and Carrington, the Wizard of OZ, Star Wars, all  meet  in a Great Celebration!

Juan de Pareja plays ethereal music upon a 17th Century Italian Harpsichord accompanied by musical voices that have taken the form of African drums, old Negro Spirituals, Baptist Hymns, Native American, Gregorian and Buddhist chants. Dwellers from the off center worlds of Yves Tanguy and Lenora Carrington dance a ghostly minuet strangely in time with the aforementioned harmonies. Umberto Boccioni mechanical cubist forms shape shift as each civilization raises its songs of praise to their nation’s way of life.  Rumi and Hafiz recite poetry in Old Persian. Surreal images of Magritte and villagers from Chagall mix and mingle in a charged atmosphere.  All happily exchange and converse within the Stream, that unconscious subtle system of verbal and non-verbal communication.  Empaths guided by cues, pheromones, and inner thoughts, dreams and visions.

Always remember, A Unicorn seldom comes to a locked Garden.”

Defiant DeBorah
Defiant precocious DeBorah

 

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