Posts tagged with "love"


Silence

Seeds, berries and nuts fall to the ground. They bed into the forest floor. Birds carry them off in the four directions. Energy is stored inside plants. The earth enters a time of waiting. Involution. Deep silence.

The deep silence… a potential space.

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The mother was not people, nor was she nothing

nor something

she was the spirit of what was to come…

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For the Maori, this is Te Korekore,

‘the infinite realm of the formless and undifferentiated. It is the realm not so much of ‘non-being’ but rather of ‘potential being’. It is the realm of primal and latent energy from which the stuff of the universe proceeds and from which all things evolve.’

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For Plato, it is the chora.

‘neither sensible nor intelligible, neither inside nor outside. It is… the matrix, nurse, and mother of all space.’

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Our culture has become afraid of this fertile void. We fill spaces with things… silences with words. Understandably, we want to know what’s going to happen… if it’s going to be OK.

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But space can be full with potential.

The film maker Wim Wenders has written of the problem of knowing in advance about how a film may turn out, of how this can get in the way, and of the importance of letting things emerge.

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And silence can be full with healing.

The psychoanalyst, Edward Emery, writes of how healing comes from the ‘aliveness’ in the analyst’s silence and speaking from ‘a silent love that also respects the patient’s silence.’

From this silence, something that has never been seen or touched before can come into life.

Posted: November 11, 2010 | Author: Margaret Kerr | Comments: Add 

Transitional practices

The psychodynamic theory, a transitional object is a physical object that connects us to someone we love, when we are separated from them. The psychoanalyst, D.W. Winnicott, first used the term when he wrote about how very young children cope with separation from their mothers.

But transitional objects are not only used by children – they’re a natural part of how we all stay connected while apart, and ease the pain of loss. I wear a ring given to me by someone I love; I carry a stone in my pocket from a place that I love. When someone I loved died, I carried something that belonged to him.

Transitional objects are not always solid objects. They can be shapes, images, colours, textures, sounds, smells…


Often we find transitional objects intuitively, and without thinking about it. Sometimes, we have to do something more intentional to connect. A transitional practice. It can be something very simple…

I’ve been indoors a lot over the last couple of weeks. Yesterday, I stood looking out the window at the clouds, the trees, the muddy earth, the fallen leaves. A blackbird was revelling in a puddle. I realised I was feeling sad, sluggish, and desperate to get outside.

And then I had all these thoughts like ‘It’ll be cold’, ‘I haven’t got time’, ‘I should go and fill in that accreditation form’… and, more subtly, under the surface, ‘It’ll remind me how much I miss all this…’ It was almost a physical struggle.

I opened the door and went out. Straight away, the smell of the air, the sound of the birds, the sensation of the cold on my skin connected me back to what I had been missing – a wider feeling of my self – as part of the rest of nature. The sadness lifted, and my mind cleared.

Posted: October 28, 2010 | Author: Margaret Kerr | Comments: Add