Journey Into The Jungle Part 4: What is my Source?

The writing journey continues…..

N in class termed our writing “community of the vulnerable.” This trek through the mountains to find the true voice of my writer needs this tender village of souls who write from a place that births souls. I am struggling with my first book, Feet Above Her Head. Ruby, the young psychic child, her mother the mad woman who tries to kill herself and her children, her father a loving chauvinist who Ruby hates and adores, and then there are her visions of Mary Magdalena, disguised through her mind’s eye as various apparitions that tries to teach her to love. Ruby has fallen between the cracks. She is screaming to be resurrected. I can’t find her voice. She has been rejected by so many and yet, she is vigilante to live; to be heard and seen. But, she has to have a hook that will make agents like her, no love her. Her whole life, she was to told to fit in, be perfect, follow the rules. But Ruby doesn’t know how to follow the rules…she only knows how to be Ruby; a Jewish girl from Brooklyn, who talks inside her own head to Mary. She walks crooked lines, searches for lost roads and untraveled terrain. There is no end to it all; this love thing and the need to be recognized. One editor wouldn’t edit Ruby’s story because she did not edit any novels that talked about abuse. Another editor thought she needed a BIG epiphany because she was visionary, a dreamer. Ruby is never good enough, and that is what she has always believed. But she can feel and see YOUR soul, and can see beyond the physical, and she is not crazy, although she thinks she is. Ruby is a survivor of hell and back. Is that not a story to tell? People are searching for peace every day. Peace and Love. “What is peace and love?” Ruby asks every day. For Ruby it is in the moment of despair and acknowledgement of that angst when love seeps through her veins. Ruby is so sad. Help Ruby. Someone help! Will anyone save Ruby from extinction? I must save her. But how? I want to feel her heart beating in me again. I feel her crawling around in my belly, scratching at my uterus lining. Why aren’t I good enough? What do I have to do? From above she shouts down at me, “LET ME LIVE.”

Journey Into The Jungle Part 3: Blue, River, Woman

Continued search on my writer prayer journey, finding my blue heart, woman… what is her voice saying. Who is she?

Blue heart
The river of woman flows
So big, alive with the sky, the heaven
That floats above us as we raise our hands
Reaching toward the Goddess of All things
Blue and serene, passionate, river flow, blue waters stream
Through me as a woman connected to everyone’s inner silence
Raging tides of ecstasy that we repress, afraid of the Blue River Woman
Who swims upstream against the tide surrounded by myths that
No longer serve the Soul of Woman
Flow river, river flow the life-force, the energy
Of all that shines and pulses
No longer afraid to breathe air that is polluted
With grief and toxic waste.
The river blue flows like a woman’s blood
Down from her uterus, flowing down thighs
Into the earth cleansing all the mountains, hills, oceans and villages
Of ancient sacrifices that chased love away and force terror to reign supreme
The Blue Woman
The Blue River
The Woman
Blue
River
River, storms, wash up and floods us with your tender words and primal
Roar, I hear singing for me to awaken and cry no more, birth anew and whole.