Tag Archives: Archetypes
Winter Solstice
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Ouroboros
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The moon shivers silver and stirs
As the branches of Life’s Tree, kiln dried,
Spark and Ignite in the cauldron of a Dragon’s exhale
As still holding the Center
The Dragon pauses before its first next Breath before Flight
As the Vesica Pisces, resonating through eons
with the Triangle of Light’s Blessing,
In quantum symmetry smiles
And Mycelium dance in prayerful delight!
~~~~~~~~~
” There are two ways of sustaining something. It may either be carried, or enfolded by creating an unbroken circle round it to prevent its falling apart.”
The Penguin Dictionary of Symbols 1996 addition… by Jean Chevalier and Alain Gheerbrant under the category “Serpent”.
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(Adieu to the Chinese “Year of the Wood Snake”)
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I was a child with dreams of becoming
Now that I am older
The same dreams of being hold
Like a snake shedding it’s skin
While spitting out it’s swallowed tail
Returning and turning
Always the same
In all ways transformed
~
Happy Solstice!
~
Painting and poems © Jana White
Instagram @ Jana_h_White
Perfect Landing
I step lightly between the landing of the animus
The muse that comes lifting honey from the hives
Pollinating words penetrating through veils
Boundaries permeable by light
Still feeling the sinew and bones of intention
Smiling around dark corners
Unabashed!

Painting and journal entry © Jana White
Instagram @ Jana_H_White
Dengue Diary
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Becoming
~
Even substance
can not slow to definition
The holiness
of momentum
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Weather
~
It’s called the “Bone Crusher”.
At the end of 2019 and five days into a month long artist residency in Mexico, I fell into a deep viral vortex known as dengue fever. As the virus rummaged through my physiology, the microscopic mutants concentrated in my skull. My brain swelled with a pain so focused that I couldn’t open my eyes and for days I lost all sense of whether it was day or night.
All I remember of this time is literally having no other choice but to surrender to the pain. Finally, within this weird dark place I “saw” what I remember as an image of the archetype of Mary, which I held on to with the thought that perhaps I wasn’t being swallowed whole afterall.
Shortly after the pain subsided, and other than the bones in my head being tender and my lungs congested, I slowly re-entered the day to day world of the rest of the residency.
The canvasses I had prepped were all ready and hanging on my working wall. My paints were arranged on the table, but I found that I could not tolerate color! Light also bothered me and I was unable to look at a phone or computer screen without feeling some internal wires were being crossed. My original intentions disrupted, I sketched instead in black and white trying to express the experience and make something of the residency.
Even more disconcerting was how it felt simply inhabiting space. When walking there was the feeling of riding up and down an elevator. For months afterwards I would have to stop to steady and ground myself….in a panic. Since this feeling was this side of actual dizziness or vertigo, it took months to understand my eustachian tubes had been permanently altered. Finally allergy testing confirmed this and also that my body remained on high alert. I continually exhibited allergic reactions, and I became a human barometer of weather and environmental and seasonal changes. It took years to convince my neurology that neither hard wood trees, nor a new weather front, would upend me.
I was finding that I was having to come into perceptual relationship with everything around me…in a deeper way. This relationship wasn’t a new experience. I had been relying on nature for a sense of wonder and relationship, but also emotional regulation, since a child old enough to wander alone in the wildness of it. This is where I found true beauty in the rhythms of life, sometimes death, and learned to trust change.
Considering the archetypal image of Mary that I saw during my dengue episode? It has become clear to me that this was the Earth herself….in one unbroken seam.
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Drawings by Jana White ©
Instagram @ Jana_h_White
Eve
The deep
~
holding my toughened skin
to bone
to muscle
like pictures cut from a magazine
pinned to the wall
~
I’ve given up looking for saviors,
no messengers with bright news.
~
I see only inside
this heart
cocooned
deep
in the warm darkness
listening to the words spun
from the silk of the stories
we’ve given wings.
“””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””
photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/striatic/133146861/”>striatic</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/”>cc</a>
Night mirrors
In my winter dreams
I look for seeds that have curled up in dry dark corners
caught there when the floods washed through.
I pull away the broken limbs and detritus that collect
and watch the seeds that float to the surface
~
Like mirrors end to end
they shift and turn
reflecting the barbed light of other suns.
Birthing memories.
The only heat sometimes is in memory
passing through the heat of the wound.
~
I wake from these dreams disconnected
I have instinctively stretched out in time.
~
Deep in the night
no birds singing yet
waiting for light.
“””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””
Stillness
All you see is the glow from the warming fire
The cold night
the bright moon
your breath in the air
Stillness
I often pull myself together in the YWCA pool, swimming laps… water therapy. I joined the Y initially to cure my fear of deep water. I can float and swim but for some reason when I try to tread water I sink to just above my nose. For months I dangled around in the deep end with a very large floaty. Then I discovered swim fins. Continue reading
Archetypes
Winding down
inside the mountain.
Fingers tracing the edge of shadows
Trusting
this is leading
to air and light.
Spinning slowly
arms freed from gravity’s holding
into the deep.
I used to think archetypes were stories we collectively tell ourselves that eventually, over time, become the fabric of our personal considerations, but now I understand they are more like skin. More real, more intimate than the clothes we wear to define us. More intrinsically ours. The calluses, wrinkles, birthmarks and scars.
It would seem that in order to have weight, to be as intrinsic as skin, an archetype would have to hold more than just story. We are our skin. Skin is experiential in every sense. It is our largest sensing organ.
Going deeper…individual cells make up the structure of skin. Cells replicate, know their purpose, are in relationship with other cells, have memory.
Archetypes are both the macrocosm and the microcosm of skin. Experience and memory.
photo credit: D. Sharon Pruitt at http://www.flickr.com/photos/pinksherbet/338444355











