Ariel´s Wasteland

1.
Ariel changed her mermaidstale for human-feet and had to pay with her voice for this. This shows us, yes you can leave your world behind for another world but it´s very likely you will feel numb for a while. Like a child, caught in the world of senses, caught up in the unspeakable.
You say yes to life changing alchemy in cases you have to. Yes, I am here in this serious want. I am in love and my love lives on the other side. The way I was is dying. I have to go through the mirror. And the world you leave behind watches you as you move through glass. They all fear to see your skin bleed, or to see you caught up there inside of the mirror. Not able to go forward or back.
Ariel has been an angel changing her wings for a mermaidstale, and her mermaidstale for human feet. And it has all been utterly okay for her to be one of these beings. But there is something about this periods of changing from the one shape into the other what frightens us and in cases even fills us with disgust. We just can not look at it. Now I just keep on looking, I look, look, focus and look at it and through it with deep burning eyes. They tear and my body is trembling but I HAVE to see this. I HAVE to go there. I HAVE to die simply because I am in the mood to die so I can get born again.
I am really just simply in the bloody mood for it! So what is this thing with Ariel and her mood. Oh gosh, the girl is in the mood and oh no it´s because of that prince Eric. So here we are patronizing our dear Ariel. That´s why we are not able to really LOOK at it. We think we know the story, we heared it too often and just think of it as extremely dull, okay?
Does it make sense to think of passion as someting dull?
Actually sounds like a catterpillar believing to stay a catterpillar forever is something exciting..
Is excitement in a caterpillar-life like that defined by the small differences in the taste between to leafs? Does the caterpillar think of itself as stupid, dull and cliche when it finds itself in the process of becoming a butterfly? No, it´s being, finding itself suddenly in this deep process, on the way to manifestation in a new form. It finds itself in urge. When the butterfly is born she needs a rest so her wet wings can dry up again. She is very vulnerable, like a small fragile painting, still needing her time to drie up into existence. The way Ariel can´t speak, the butterfly can´t fly yet.
I watch the painting of the landscape wanting to surround me. It curls itself around me and comes to life, like some organic kind of shoebox theatre. This urge, is it mine or is it the urge of the landscape to pull me through, to claim me home. I am everywhere I find myself, and so are you.


2.
Let me take a step back, sit in silence and breathe. I want to hear what my angel of creativity has to say. There is some blue paint on the brush already. I feel the sea pushing my joints, hungry to break my walls of self again. My husband says he can watch me as the sea, loves to observe the coming and going of the waves. He loves this in the paintings. He loves it in the cycle of life and death. He loves the nurturing aspects of the great mother but does not love her less because of destroying and taking back what she gave, back into her astonishing nothingness. I love him for his gentle receiving senses and the way he catches like a rock, the way he trusts me when I need to take myself back into nothingness.The way he embraces all of the two of us.

Let me take a step back, sit in silence and breathe, I whisper to myself now. And as I let the brush fall in the glass and it touches the water a fine blue water snakes curls through.
My daughter sings and there is a longing in her voice to be taken away from our home to find her own. I don´t think she realises herself yet. When I am quiet now, I hear my daughter now is my angel of creativity. I feel my daughters stormy sea inside of me and have to breathe out deeply to let go without sorrows. I´m 37 and my first daughter wants to be a woman already.

Oh yes life is like this. Mothers watching daughters throwing themselves before the wolves to find out what they do not want. To find after all,in the best case a life safe and pleasant enough to happily invite back their own mothers! Some mothers though have to watch a wasteland for years when looking at the daughter, wondering if the earth they took care of will be fertile enough for any kind of crops. Or see some crops flourish, but leaving her empty.
Girl, I love you when you are empty too. This is my voice now. This is the voice I always wanted to hear. I´ve been torn apart by wolves too. I´ve been my own wolves.