Imaginal Journal
Imagination is Medicine
The Loss of Truth with Michael Meade on Living Myth
"The Greek word for truth is alethia, which translates as “not to forget”. In that sense, the loss of truth and the rise of falsity in modern life represents a great cloud of forgetting. In this episode, Michael Meade goes searching for truth and meaning in the old myths of the underworld where a person could find themselves caught between Lethe, the River of Forgetfulness or Oblivion, and Mnemosyne, the River of Great Memory and imagination. In a world turned upside down, the underworld stream of forgetfulness and lies floods the daily world. Finding the truth will mean remembering the deep values of humanity and the living stream of imagination that can renew all of life." Via - LivingMyth.org
Michael Meade is such a lighthouse, reminding me of the value of deep imagination.
Of Grief and Reverence with Francis Weller
"Charles talks with Francis Weller about grief as a gateway to joy, to reverence, and to community, and the power of public grief to bring healing on a personal, community, and political level.
From this episode:
"We have this projection onto sorrow and grief as if it is some
depressed state, but it only becomes that way because of our avoidance.
We become oppressed by the weight of all the unexpressed grief in our
lives." - Francis Weller
"We will not have truly compassionate politics unless we are able to let
in the truth, and we can only let in the truth that hurts so much if we
have ways to process the grief." - Charles Eisenstein
Francis Weller, MFT, is a psychotherapist, writer and soul activist. He is a master of synthesizing diverse streams of thought from psychology, anthropology, mythology, alchemy, indigenous cultures and poetic traditions. Learn more about Francis on his website. You can also check out his organization, WisdomBridge."
Via: A New and Ancient Story Podcast with Charles Eisenstein
Found my soul deeply moved by this conversation on grief.
We Have Come to Be Danced by Jewel Mathieson
We have come to be danced
not the pretty dance
not the pretty pretty, pick me, pick me dance
but the claw our way back into the belly
of the sacred, sensual animal dance
the unhinged, unplugged, cat is out of its box dance
the holding the precious moment in the palms
of our hands and feet dance
We have come to be danced
not the jiffy booby, shake your booty for him dance
but the wring the sadness from our skin dance
the blow the chip off our shoulder dance
the slap the apology from our posture dance
We have come to be danced
not the monkey see, monkey do dance
one, two dance like you
one two three, dance like me dance
but the grave robber, tomb stalker
tearing scabs & scars open dance
the rub the rhythm raw against our souls dance
WE have come to be danced
not the nice invisible, self conscious shuffle
but the matted hair flying, voodoo mama
shaman shakin’ ancient bones dance
the strip us from our casings, return our wings
sharpen our claws & tongues dance
the shed dead cells and slip into
the luminous skin of love dance
We have come to be danced
not the hold our breath and wallow in the shallow end of the floor dance
but the meeting of the trinity: the body, breath & beat dance
the shout hallelujah from the top of our thighs dance
the mother may I?
yes you may take 10 giant leaps dance
the Olly Olly Oxen Free Free Free dance
the everyone can come to our heaven dance
We have come to be danced
where the kingdom’s collide
in the cathedral of flesh
to burn back into the light
to unravel, to play, to fly, to pray
to root in skin sanctuary
We have come to be danced
WE HAVE COME
Stone by David Whyte
The face in the stone is a mirror looking into you.
You have gazed into the moving waters,
you have seen the slow light, in the sky
above Lough Inagh, beneath you, streams have flowed,
and rivers of earth have moved beneath your feet,
but you have never looked into the immovability
of stone like this, the way it holds you, gives you
not a way forward but a doorway in, staunches
your need to leave, becomes faithful by going nowhere,
something that wants you to stay here and look back,
be weathered by what comes to you, like the way you too
have travelled from so far away to be here, once reluctant
and now as solid and as here and as willing
to be touched as everything you have found.
Linda Tucker on White Lions in Mythology and Nature
Linda Tucker, an ecological activist, grew up in South Africa during Apartheid and attended the Universities of Cape Town in South Africa and Cambridge in the United Kingdom. In 2002, she founded the Global White Lion Protection Trust, an organization that works to protect not only the white lions, but also the indigenous communities and knowledge of the Tsonga and Sepedi cultures, which celebrate the white lion as a sacred living heritage. Her spellbinding new book, Saving the White Lions: One Woman’s Battle for Africa’s Most Sacred Animal, chronicles her life’s journey as the chosen torchbearer of the white lion shamanic tradition and her valiant battle to preserve these mythical creatures. - Via: For the Wild
This podcast pierced my wild heart so deeply. Hearing the actual white lions roar in the distance at the end of the interview awakened my lion-hearted courage. So powerful!
Breath by Kabir
Are you looking for me?
I am in the next seat.
My shoulder is against yours.
You will not find me in stupas, not in Indian shrine rooms, nor in synagogues, nor in cathedrals: not in masses, nor in kirtans, not in legs winding around your own neck, nor in eating nothing but vegetables.
When you really look for me, you will see me instantly—
you will find me in the tiniest house of time.
Kabir says: Student, tell me what is God?
He is the breath inside the breath.
(translation: Robert Bly)
How Trauma Lodges in the Body with Bessell Van der Kolk
Always worth revisiting Bessell Van der Kolk’s take on trauma. Here is a great interview with On Being