Crow Man and Heidi

Crowman and me
After The Crow Man, by Winterwolfe

Crow Man and Heidi

I am at the premiere presentation of Crow Man.  Scientists have taken a real, living crow and added human chromosomes and done a series of operations.  They intend to make him fully human, but have not finished yet.  Crow Man is about three feet tall.  His skin color is nearly a normal human color, pinkish, with a little grey left from the black.  His spine has been straightened he walks erect, his beak has been removed and his face looks human, though slightly strange.  He still has the beak, which has been expanded.  He holds it up to his face and he resembles a crow, he takes it away and he’s human again.  His hair is jet black and feathery.  His hips are wrong, still, and his has trouble walked and especially turning.  His feet are long and somewhat crippled—and bare.  They curl in such a way that he mainly walks on the outsides of his feet—more operations are scheduled for the hips and feet.  He walks around awkwardly and comes to where I am sitting talks to me.  I ask him questions and he replies.  He takes a like to me and gives me a kiss.  Not a romantic or sexual kiss, just a friendly kiss.  When he turns around and walks back the other way, I wipe the cooling drop of his spit from the side of my mouth.  Then, I look around in hopes no one saw me do that because it seems rude.  I don’t want to wipe away the kiss, only the spit and any germs it might contain.  But it seems like a fine line.  The audience, however, is engaged in watching Crow Man.  Or seems to be.

After the presentation is over, there is a reception, and people are sitting at picnic tables still listening to the scientists answer questions.  There will be food and beverage, but I want to go take a walk before it gets dark.  I go over to Heidi.  Keith is somewhere, too.  But Heidi doesn’t want to walk; she wants to stay and listen to the questions about Crow Man.  She says Keith wants to stay too, though Keith is not in evidence at the moment.  I try to talk her into coming, but she won’t come.  Finally, I go out to walk alone.  It seems to me that the questions and answers are all a rehash of what has already been said anyway. 

I am sad and a little upset and angry because the delay has caused it to get dark. I am in a strange and unfamiliar place and don’t know my way around.  I know there is a lake at the bottom of a long gradual hill and decide to go there first.  I can see the lake faintly in the distance and also a long lawn running down to it—all in the very dark dark. I walk down toward the lake and in the dark, I trip on a pipe or some pipe-like object protruding from the ground up to about mid-calf.  It hurts and I stumble and wake up.  Tuesday, December 20, 2011

What does this remind you of?

Ø  Shamanism:  First, and dream with talking animals reminds me of Shamanism, which I studied, including dream Shamanism.  This is bad time for me, right before Christmas, to work with the dream Shamanistically; I am too busy and that takes time.  Crows are very intelligent.  They are also thieves.  They steal food from farmers, and they also sometimes steal shiny things, like a magpie.  They steal babies from other birds.  They supposedly have been known to poke out the eyes of human who try to attack their nests—they are protective.  Because they are black, they are sometimes considered to be evil.  It would be interesting to consider what such a creature would have to tell and teach me.  I miss my Shamanistic practice—I seem to have less time for everything. I had no partner and no kid living at home back then.

Ø  Walking:  Walking is essential to my well-being, but sometimes difficult and painful.  I need to try to cram it into every day, no matter how busy. This causes difficulties for my family, my friends and me. I don’t mind walking in the dark with a companion, but prefer to walk during daylight hours if I walk alone so I can write while I walk.  Also, if in unfamiliar territory, so I don’t trip and possibly injure myself!

Ø  Not wanting to walk:  When Heidi was here, she and Keith made it clear that they did not want to walk in the mush-puhsh.  I was secretly a little disappointed that she, my great walking companion of old, who lives in the wilds, was (in those instances) so prim and prissy.  And wimpy.  However, part of the problem was her shoes, and later, she got out a better pair of shoes.

Ø  Ethics and Morals:  Although I was very interested in Crow Man in the dream, and still am, sometimes it seems as if scientists do thing they should not so, and this might be one of them.  I just finished a book where the protagonists did some bad things, which is always upsetting and disappointing to me.  I like the protagonists to be the “good guys” and gals; they can and should have faults, but it seems to me that the good guys should not go beyond a certain point and if they do—they are no longer good guys but bad guys.

Ø  Bare feet:  remind me of childhood, of nature, of savages (the primitive) of being in contact with nature.

Ø  Tripping in the dark: Hmmm.  I trip a lot, both literally and figuratively, and more often in the literal and figurative dark than in the light.  I could ask myself, “in what ways am I tripping myself up?”  There are many answers and I have little time right now—I trip myself up by walking at night, by eating bad foods, by beating myself up, by taking on too many projects, by not finishing the ones I have, but not submitting my work.  By getting angry.

"Wherever crows are, there is magic.  They are symbols of creation and spiritual strength.  They remind us to look for opportunities to create and manifest the magic of life.  They are messengers calling to us about the creation and magic that is alive within our world everyday and available to us." Ted Andrews

Ø  Magic:  If I look at Crow Man is MAGIC rather than as a scientific teratogenic monster, it serves to remind me of the magic and creativity and love in life.  Of transformation.  And of joy and happiness, and gives me a surge of hope at a time when I am feeling overwhelmed and depressed.

"Since Crow is the keeper of sacred law, Crow can bend the laws of the physical universe and "shape shift".  This ability is rare and unique.  Few adepts exist in today's world, and fewer still have mastered Crow's art of shape shifting.  This art includes doubling, or being in two places at one time consciously; taking on another physical form, and becoming the "fly on the wall" to observe what is happening far away....

     "Crow is an omen of change.  Crow lives in the void and has no sense of time.  The Ancient Chiefs tell us that Crow sees simultaneously the three fates- past, present, and future.  Crow merges light and darkness, seeing both inner and outer reality."

Sams and Carson Medicine Cards

Ø  Shape-shifting:  This is powerful Shamanistic stuff.  Since my crow shape-shifted (with the help, in the dream, of the scientists, it reminds me of the studies I did with Robert Moss in shape-shifting, of being in two places at once, of sending the mind-spirit out to hunt.  This is what we do also as poets and artists.

Ø  The inner and outer reality:  Seeing both is like the healing process, bringing the subconscious to the conscious and becoming aware.

Ø  Being chosen:  The fact that Crow Man chose me in the dream—did not kiss anyone else—reminds me of my fear that I am chosen by men bent on hurting me (abusers), but also by this powerful but as of yet crippled figure of Shamanistic power.  (This reminds me of the Mogur in The Clan of the Cave Bear!)  It gives me a sense of latent power, strength, and ability.

Ø  Twisting:  I notice that I am twisting the apparent meanings in the dreams—the surface meanings, into something more positive.  I do not necessarily see that as a bad thing, because being in touch with deeper feelings mined in this manner have given me more energy and cheer at a time when I needed it.  Energy and cheer are useful.  J

Ø  Stopping:  I notice that the work I do after I decide I “should” stop is more important than the work before that.  And were I to go on, I might do better work yet.  BUT I MUST STOP.  I have other things I MUST do.  L

I would like to do some art to go with this, but that ain't about to happen immediately!!!

The green shirts

I buy a bale of pale yellow green T-shirts, really cheap.  But when I open them, not only are they more poorly made than I imaged, but also, they each have named inside the colors and are obviously used and frayed.  One has many names.  They seem to be children's shirts from camp, ad I am afraid they won't fit.

My Brother, his Novel, the Hidden Chair and the Security Unnecessary Guilt and False Accusations

My Brother, his Novel, the Hidden Chair and the Security

Unnecessary Guilt and False Accusations

My brother Robert lends me a book about a 14-year old girl that he thinks I would be interested in.  It is a novel interspersed with pictures, poems, and scrapbook items.  It has a cheap red cover and has fallen into two pieces, which are in danger of splitting further.  The threads of the binding are hanging out.  I am sitting at the dining-room table in someone else’s house reading and enjoying the book.  There are maybe eight other people in the house, and they are expecting their grandmother and when she arrives, they all parade into the dining room.  I consider moving, but do not.  Someone complains that there aren’t enough chairs.  Because there seems to be one chair too few, about half the contingent returns to the living room.  I stand up and point out another chair that was half-hidden behind mine.  But no one returns to the dining room.  I feel guilty, even though I don’t think it is my fault, and I leave the house with my brother. 

My brother has never been here, to this location before.  I tell him about the ancient graveyard behind the house and we walk up the stone walkway up the hill to the graveyard.   It is not like old American graveyards, but like old European graveyards.  I am excited about this and telling him about the ones we saw in Slovenia, Italy and Australia. 

At the back of the graveyard is an old low stone building, and we go inside.  We are immediately drawn to a large glassed-in cage full of hermit crabs.  There are robot arms with gripper jaws that can be used to pick up the food for the crabs and deliver it from the plastic bins, which can be filled from the cage, to the crabs.  We each have a turn doing this.  I get an old rotted-looking brown onion and try to deliver it to a certain crab, but it rolls away down the rocks and half in ad half out of the water.  I hope the crab will get it.

We leave the building and Rob is going off somewhere.  I tell him there are snow-clad mountains just beyond here, but he says I can show him later; he has to do something.  Because I’ve only been here maybe once before, and I am not sure I am remembering correctly. I decide to check to be sure I’m right about the mountains.  Also, I remember, there are other interesting ruins.  I walk past some appealing ruins and come around a bend in the trail and can see the mountains in the distance—they are tall, thin, and rocky with bulgy rocks rather than rock faces—very strange formations, with patches of snow like alpine glaciers near the top.

I want to walk closer, but there is a large school bus blocking the way.  I consider crawling under it to continue my walk on the other side and bend and look under the bus, but it is covered, under there, with thick black grease.

A security guard comes and is upset, thinking I want to vandalize the bus.  I explain that I am just trying to follow the trail to the mountains and the bus is blocking the trail.  I go around the bus, but the security guard follows me.  She is haranguing me.  I stop to defend myself from her accusations and a line of people walking toward the mountains comes by the narrow space behind the bus where we are standing.  Among them are Bruce and Debby.  They do not appear to see me.

I follow them.  The security guard follows me, making false accusations.  I just keep walking toward the mountains, ignoring her.  Sunday, December 4, 2011

What does this remind you of?

Ø  a way to write a novel

o   (Reminds me of a novel series that was popular maybe ten years ago)

o   (Might be a fun way to write a novel)

Ø  unnecessary guilt

o   that I was taking up a chair needed by someone else (someone who was welcomed and wanted whereas I was not welcomed.) but there was, in fact enough chairs.

Ø  false accusations

o   the missing chair: I was accused of making it so there were not enough chairs, when in fact there was

o   the security guard: I was accused of wanting to vandalize the bus when it had never even occurred to me.

o   I REALLY HATE being falsely accused.

Ø  various failures

o   The hidden chair

o   Feeding the crab

o   I am sad and upset when I feel that I have failed

Ø  successes:

o   Remembering the cemetery

o   Remembering the mountains

o   I am pleased to have remembered correctly

Ø  things that engage and interest me

o   the novel

o   the old cemetery

o   the robot arms and the crabs

o   the ruins

o   the mountains

Ø  ignoring the security guard

o   Ignoring my false inner voices

o   The security guard is like my inner voice that tells me I am “bad” when I am not. 

o   In one case, I gave into it (the inner blaming voice of guilt) and left the house where there were sufficient chairs because I felt bad

o   In the other case, I totally ignored the persistent accusations, knowing in my heart I was not guilty.  The haranguing of the guard was like a mosquito buzzing around my ear, an annoyance but not heartfelt.

o   The difference is, I think, that I was partly blocking the view of the last chair and therefore felt that I actually was PARTLY to blame for the anger of the woman who chastised me.  In the one case, I knew for sure I wasn’t at fault, and in the other case, I felt somewhat responsible and also unwanted and unloved.  But even in that case, I wasn’t really to blame.

o   I feel as if I am often falsely accused or blamed for things.

o   On the other hand, I do actually make mistakes and do things wrong sometimes.  L  I really HATE being wrong and/or stupid.  (I want to be perfect, but I am NOT!  Darn!)