Mnemosyne

I am reading The Female Trickster: The mask that reveals, by Ricki Stefamie Tannen.

Regarding Mnemosyne, she writes: “The power of memory was recognized in Ancient Greece by the goddess Mnemosyne who ruled over the Elysian Fields. The nine daughters of Mnemosyne and Zeus are the muses, with Thalia, the muse of comedy imaged with a Trickster’s mask as she playfully composed comedy and ironic poetry. The muses were women unto themselves. According to the myth, upon death a person makes a choice to either drink from the river Lethe or the spring of memory. If you drink from Lethe you forget your pain and all the lessons of your life and are reborn again on earth. Those who choose to drink from the spring of memory go to the Elysian Fields, where there is no strife or pain. The myth tells us that the path to psychological integration comes from a willingness to value and interact with memory. Those that repress memory are doomed to repeat it, over and over again.” (pp72-73)

This seems apropos both to my personal and professional life and also to US culture. Our President speaks like my stage IV substance abuse patients. He says things that are obviously lies, obviously not true, obviously refutable and yet to all appearances he believes his own lies entirely, even when he contradicts himself. He manufactures his own reality and just laughs when someone else disagrees. But my substance abuse patients crash: they eventually find that they are isolated with their own lies when they become so fantastic and bizarre that no one believes them any more. We are watching that play out.

Re my personal life, I think of my maternal aunt’s memorial. I wrote two memories for the memory book. One was about my father saying that she had perfect pitch. I did not know what perfect pitch was when I was little, but I knew from my father’s voice, the respect, that it was special and important. That he was envious. That he admired it. The second was about my aunt and uncle’s divorce, that I had seen them as a unit and liked both of them better when they turned into individuals.

My cousins wanted to use the first memory but not the second. They said that family wouldn’t like it. I thought about their request and finally said no. Use both or neither. They chose neither. And this pretty much illustrates why I have very little contact from a large part of my family. I want to remember the whole person, light and dark, love them all. And that is not what that part of my family wants. An old family friend has not spoken to me about my sister since my sister died 6 years ago. I asked her directly about it a few months ago. She wants to talk to me “only about happy memories of your mother, father and sister.” I respond, “Why don’t you ask me what sort of relationship I want?”

She was and is silent. So I am too.

It’s not a lack of love but it’s a difference in philosophy. I think it is crazy to whitewash the dead: how will our children understand their own dark feelings and impulses and mistakes if they think that their ancestors, grandparents, parents are angels? Why aren’t we honest as a culture? How can we expect our children to be honest with us when we lie to them? The curated lives on Facebook are an abomination, false, lies and look what we have in the White House.

I like the dark as well as the light. If we truly love everything in the universe, how can we not love the dark as well as the light? If each of us owned our dark sides, our dark impulses, the myth says that we will not enact them over and over each generation. Owning the dark, acknowledging our own dark does not mean that we have to act it out in the world and then lie to ourselves and others.

And now I want coal for my stocking: just a small piece, to remind me that I have not always, or will I ever, only be good.

memory’s vault

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: fumble.

Up near the bunker’s is Memory’s Vault. This is the first part of the poem A Lover’s Quarrel, about the longing for home. The poems are by Sam Hamill. It is a beautiful place.

I hope that no one fumbles with our hearts during the holidays and that we feel loved and home wherever we are….

war doors

For Norm2.0’s Thursday Doors.

I went for a walk at Fort Worden this week and did not walk on the beach. I was wearing work shoes not suitable for sand. I went up the bluff to the bunkers instead. The bunkers are so quiet in the winter, without all the tourists.

It was very dark yesterday by 3:00 pm. We are so close to the solstice now.

all sounds become music

I am in RainShadow Chorale. My father was one of the people who started it in 1997.  I moved to Port Townsend in 2000, because my mother had cancer. She died in May of 2000. My father died in 2013. I had the joy of singing with him in this group for 13 years.

Our concert is weekend after next and I really love this one. We are doing a wild mix of pieces and moods with the theme from a Walt Whitman poem. In this time of so many people being afraid and angry and stirred up, going to chorus is healing. All of these people, unpaid, coming together to create these two concerts of beauty and unity and joy. A gift to each other and a gift to the community.

Ticket information on the website.

left foot, left foot, left foot, right

This is for the Ragtag Daily Prompt: challenge.

What odd challenge is this? I took this stealthie downtown two days ago. I am wearing my almost not socks. Or minimal socks. Anyhow, they are elastic lace bands around the instep. These particular sandals are very comfortable but I tend to fall off them when I am tired. Somehow the almost not socks help.

But… challenge? The picture reminds me of The Foot Book. It starts: Left foot, left foot, left foot right. Feet in the morning feet at night. And it goes on, a kids book. I have a loved picture of my sister reading it to my son when he was a year old. They are on the porch in Portland. My sister’s feet are turned in and my son’s feet are turned out.

The challenge is do you have a children’s book or poem or story or speech from school memorized from 20 years ago or more. I am not counting television or movie songs here: this is something read or memorized on purpose from multiple uses….My children are both over 20 and I still have a huge number of children’s books memorized.

Have a wonderful day.