Why Coyote, Why I?
Why
are we in a Coyote Conversation? If you haven't noticed, you're in
one now.
Namely for what comes if I - or rather, if we – get it right. I'll take anything between the tight curled cheek smirk, to the long full release of something held far too long. Its how all tales of Trickster in Coyote end: in laughter, perhaps even laughing through the tears.
I want buttons to pop – wicked dreams going wild, and its still safe because its in your head. When you talk to Coyote you fall into his stories. All the strangematter places your shining longs to show you, all the noises and quirks that tremble in your body, and the wild, wild ideas you never dared share. The grain of your individuality that you, only you, unique and strange in a universe of unfinished stories.
Never ever relax, or one night you might say mad things about beauty and truth and love. Push it instead. Carve out the safe good bits, choice cuts. Leave it wrapped up and bound in a sexy little corset you can barely breathe in.
Different hurts unless you're beautiful or rich. We learnt that early. We learn it young, on the playground, at the breakfast table, in the mirror. Wrap and bind, don't be timid, and put on your human suit. Wonder why life feels heavy yet hollow somedays so you shove that down too. Rinse and repeat.
Dissatisfaction is the universal constant of the West; not hungry, but never full, never enough. The answer 'we' learnt was to fill with more, and more, and ... suddenly we're battling addictions; maybe in rehab or maybe in a ditch, wondering where it went wrong. If your heart holds out that long.
If I could I would burst through my safe, safe, circumscribed restrictions, how ever pretty my corset is. I would rock, I would strut, I would parade every imperfection and damn my reflection. Aging body, soft stomach, naked haunches and brown to the boot. I would be a Fool, because only fools parade naked.
Namely for what comes if I - or rather, if we – get it right. I'll take anything between the tight curled cheek smirk, to the long full release of something held far too long. Its how all tales of Trickster in Coyote end: in laughter, perhaps even laughing through the tears.
I want buttons to pop – wicked dreams going wild, and its still safe because its in your head. When you talk to Coyote you fall into his stories. All the strangematter places your shining longs to show you, all the noises and quirks that tremble in your body, and the wild, wild ideas you never dared share. The grain of your individuality that you, only you, unique and strange in a universe of unfinished stories.
If
only it was safe to let outside.
Never ever relax, or one night you might say mad things about beauty and truth and love. Push it instead. Carve out the safe good bits, choice cuts. Leave it wrapped up and bound in a sexy little corset you can barely breathe in.
Different hurts unless you're beautiful or rich. We learnt that early. We learn it young, on the playground, at the breakfast table, in the mirror. Wrap and bind, don't be timid, and put on your human suit. Wonder why life feels heavy yet hollow somedays so you shove that down too. Rinse and repeat.
Dissatisfaction is the universal constant of the West; not hungry, but never full, never enough. The answer 'we' learnt was to fill with more, and more, and ... suddenly we're battling addictions; maybe in rehab or maybe in a ditch, wondering where it went wrong. If your heart holds out that long.
If I could I would burst through my safe, safe, circumscribed restrictions, how ever pretty my corset is. I would rock, I would strut, I would parade every imperfection and damn my reflection. Aging body, soft stomach, naked haunches and brown to the boot. I would be a Fool, because only fools parade naked.
Invested with no crown, the Fool dances to the sound of laughter. Mocking derisive laughter rains, and his heart trembles. Shaming words demanding her shame, that we're too ugly, too broken, to painful to see – to just not be. Stop showing me, me.
The Fool cries as she dances. I know I would. He cries till he hears Coyote laughing. Coyote's laughter is warm as hug, mocking with a shared ironic amusement, and it bestows grace to fools. It is Coyote's only benediction.
Coyote is always willing to be the Fool. And he will always grin slyly and try again. He is shameless. He gives me courage. He lets me hear what lies under the skin, and below the jeers. I find my path walking it laughing through my tears.
Since nothing in me allowed for my healing, I had to trick myself into letting go. Thats the very simple reason why we're in a Coyote Conversation together.
The
second part will be all about archetypes, and buzzy words such as
fractals and chaos, but who knows? You'll have to wait longer for
Coyote with me.
Le Fou image by Oswald Wirth (Le Tarot) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
Le Fou image by Oswald Wirth (Le Tarot) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
The article twas an absolute beautiful read! I prepared myself to be informed of some information, as I read I found myself I was not being informed, but inspired. This article did not inform for it only moved, allowed me to think within, allowed me to ponder my own thoughts and life oppose to letting an author dictate my thought for me. This article turned poem was grateful, and to me inspired my further hunt of "letting go" a difficult change where this week has shown me more than ever I need to let go of everything But i do not know how, only time and slumber will bestow this wisdom within me. I thank you for the article and I encourage you too never stop writing, you have the gift of timeless creation, one that is significant 100 years ago and infinite years to come. From day one to day zero timeless creation may always apply and it is the few among of us who have the gift to bring that to this world.
ReplyDelete