Skip to main content

Gen X etc. / Moon Magic

I have been dividing my time between The Fourth Turning and Moon Magic.

The Fourth Turning is fascinating the way it talks about what is going on right now, even though it was written in 1997. So far everything it's predicted about the media and social attitudes has come to pass. The Millenial/Gen Y still has not come forth and expressed itself. According to the book, the "hero" generation doesn't do that until the time of the crisis itself. Until that time they don't have a collective identity.

Last night I drew the 6 of cups. The 6 of cups is about nostalgia, childhood. This is the second time I've drawn a card like this querying for strength and what will help me get through.

Moon Magic continues to be a turning-point reading for me. I identify most with the author simply for creating a character like this and learning from her. I feel I have done this with Lady Hildegarde, and I reflected on her yesterday to see what she is "doing." I was really surprised.

When I was a child, Lady Hildegarde was powerful and beautiful in a mature sense. She ensnared others with her beauty and charisma. Now I find that Lady Hildegarde is childlike. Her face has changed to like one of a picture postcard from Victorian times-- her hair is still black and curling, but it surrounds a cherubic face with rosy cheeks and innocent blue eyes. No longer does she possess the merciless scarlet mouth.

Instead of a snake-like form behind her actions, mysterious but passionate workings, Hildegarde is completely disarming. She sits in an enchanted glade and makes pretty love charms from herbs and ribbons. She wears aprons with ruffles and lace. I can see her very clearly, and I am as intrigued by her as ever. Instead of asking as I once did, how can I be like you? I am asking, how on earth are you going to live in this world behaving like a pretty child? Won't the witch hunters of Salem Village come after her?

Popular posts from this blog

Snow White and the Prince

I dreamed in darkness, cold and alone. Phantasms shifted around me, frightening me, but I was powerless to escape them or even move, as I was sealed in a casket. I thought of the Queen, my Stepmother, and tears dripped from my eyes as I considered the quasi-poignant moments we had once shared, when we might have been considered to be close, when the Queen had nearly been a mother to me, and the face of love had shone radiantly upon me, before eclipsed again by the storms of Venus. I thought of the huntsman, stung to consider that my only friend had been poised to betray me, to kill me, and again in my mind I felt the horror of his shadow, of waiting while he came behind me, knowing there was no escape for me from a death he would inflict. My heart lifted as images of the Prince entered my mind, his grace atop a white-maned horse, always out of my reach, just beyond the words I longed to speak. If only there had been more time for us to fall in love. He might have saved me from those...

Where does it lie

I look out onto the yellow and brown vegetation beneath my window, at the castle-like buildings far away and wonder where do I lie in all of this? There was a time when I was unfettered. This was a time before I entered the working world, before I was independent. My heart was free as a bird when I was in college. I did not know what happiness I experienced in my creativity because I had never known different. In other aspects of my life I knew pain but my stories, sprung up lately from a gothic mist into an immersing Pre-Raphaelite painting, were a richness and the most beautiful thing I had ever known. That the most beautiful thing I knew to exist happened inside of me made me very happy, even though I didn't know it. Now I know the sun is setting, even though I can't see it, because the bank of brown, twisted trees and shrubs is lit gold, like a reflection from a golden chalice. Slowly, slowly it will fade until everything is a homogenous, uncertain gray. This is the nightma...