The Blue Blog: Voice

Friday, December 17, 2010

Voice

" A black eyed dog he called at my door. A black eyed dog he called for more. A black eyed dog he knew my name. A black eyed dog he knew my name. A black eyed dog. A black eyed dog. I'm growing old and I wanna go home. I'm growing old andI don't wanna know. I'm growing old and I wanna go home. A black eyed dog he called at my door. A black eyed dog he called for more. Black eyed dog. " Black Eyed Dog music and lyrics by Nick Drake @ 1972 Island Records

There was something about Nick Drake's songs that resonated with me. I realized it was depression. I realize that is a somewhat strange observation. Nick Drake's voice and the manner in which he presented his songs was the sound of depression. You hear the agony, the depression, the desparation, and silent suffering not necessarily in his words but in his voice. Nick Drake died at the age of 26. He overdosed on the very medication prescribed for the mental anquish he suffered. some say it was accidental. I don't believe that. I hope he has found rest and peace. hj

1 comment:

Annie said...: This comment has been removed by the author.; December 18, 2010 at 5:44 AM

The Major Arcane

As a part of my attempt to use an alternative method of recovering from my latest episode of depression, I followed loosely a method of using waking dreams to find and talk to that part of me I consider my depression. I used a specific fifteen minute drumming piece to help me go into the dream state and to alert me and bring me back out Unlike Jung, I did not have the fortitude to stay in a continous trance state. I met six entities or aspects of myself. I call them the major arcane. I will give you a glimpse of three. The others I have to work a bit more with before I can comprehend in this state of mind what they were trying to convey. heidi

The Mother Tree

She is older than time it's self. She said to me. " my roots go deep into the earth. my trunk and limbs drink the blood and water you have yet to find. you may nestle in the cradle of my roots for a time" i smile at her and became a child. i rolled in the red mud surrounding her, thick with food and wisdom. she laughed and said "you must go now little one. they are waiting for you." i cocked my head and smiled as i looked up into the darkness that pooled between her large leaves of light. She smile again "they are waiting for your birth."
heidi jones

The Gatherer

Her face was like a crab apple left in the sun too long. "follow me "she said "and bring the book !" the book was heavey, thick, and smelled of wet moss and roses. she looked at me as if to say silence ! we went deep into a wood as we walked she plucked various plants and roots caressing them and whispering to them in a language i had no knowledge of. we arrived at an opening to a glade. the graas gleamed so bright i had to shade my eyes. with some effort she sat down on a tree stump. i sat before her. " Now" she said leaning over, her face inches from mine. "we begin. open the book !" I was afraid,but the expression on her face commanded it. i could not understand the words at first. as i looked at the letters they began to change. it was a recipe. The First Recipe was the title.

Ingedients: all you need is yourself. the only line after that was it's time to forgive yourself . the old woman sat back and sighed. "when you get that dish right you come and see me again." heidi jones

The Little Girl in the Well

She is first and last. she is the one i fear the most. i walk through the swamp and come upon a dark dank well. curiosity wins and i am compelled to come closer. it is hard to grasp the edge of the well for it is covered with green slime. i steele myself and look in. at the bottom of the well is a child. a little black girl. she is dressed in a white dress, with white socks, and black patent leather shoes on her feet. the shoes are so clean i can see my reflection in them. her hair is tied back with a single white bow. there is not one speck of dirt on her. it is as if she is a hologram. not really there. she looks up at me and i know she is real. i ask her if she needs help. she does not respond. i lean over and say "can you reach my hand? i will help you climb up. don't you want to go home?" she nods yes. in that moment i realize this is not the help she will accept. "who are you ?" i ask. this time she answers. her light voice echoing up to the top of the well. " i am the keeper of secrets" i knew then that to free her i must come to her. i must climb down into the well. and that for now was an impossibility.

heidi jones

Friday, December 17, 2010

Voice

1 comment:

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