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“That there are neither maps nor discipline to help us find duende. We only know that… he exhausts, that he rejects all the sweet geometry that we have learned, that he smashes the styles… With idea, sound or gesture, the duende enjoys fighting the creator to the very rim of the well… the duende wounds. In the healing of that wound which never closes lies the invented strange qualities of an artist’s work. “ - Federico García Lorca.
Yes, I am still being drawn in by that online course. And I get the irony of it, the way quotes from Lorca about the untameable nature of the Duende are being used to pull one towards its antithesis. If there are no maps and discipline does not help, what are a series of lectures going to do? Give you homework? Today is the last day to register : https://appliedjung.com/daimon-and-duende/
$390 isn't much really, but it is the kind of cash which could take me to places where I can find Duende and Daimon together, even supposing one can't do it at home.
My Daimon spoke here, and I know there is a kind of Duende in it (https://www.amazon.co.uk/Spiders-Bride-Debbie-Gallagher/dp/0809572117) Far from perfect, but I am still very proud of it.
I have not been able to return there because the world pulled me in to other things, fun exciting things, but this was what lay behind my door in the wall. I know that if I find that door again, going through I will find something else, another place. But how to get there? There is no map. And the world of people is inimical to how this works with me, though it is of great use in refining the raw and extending the story. I go away, write a bit, come back, make sense of it. Possibly.
A friend of mine has written a beautifully poetic and resonant piece about the traditions of Autumn and the Embertides, all old saints and wild carrots. It struck me, with that sense of dark moons and cold nights, of broths and quilts and needfires, the mythology of a lost land. I am delighted at my friend's magic, but I can love it and acknowledge that it is not mine,not quite. Towards the end of October and through November, that's when my quickening is, usually. In general, I work better in Winter, when there's nothing outside to lure me and I am driven inwards to Otherworld because Outerworld is saying 'Nope.' But I feel so little right now, only a kind of silence in myself, a strange need to sleep for a long time and only then, after that time of repose as deep as the root of a hill, to dream, right through until Christmas, maybe not even waking then,maybe not stirring at all until 12th night.
Outerworld has never been so like a fever dream right now, with people shouting and newspaper print smeared across every screen, it's like I close my eyes and the 30s are just right there, I can almost hear Moseley's prim little voice over a crackling wireless. These people are horrifying and dangerous. That's real. It feels almost as though I am being childish, neglectful, while all this is happening, a lotus eater lost in dreams of Lorca, Jeffers, Yeats.
I have involved myself in a couple of community projects, and I hope with all my heart that they work. Already there has been some resulting delight. That's wonderful, I love working with people to a good end.
But it's not the reality of who I am; neither daimon nor duende sound in it. I am glad to have been part of it. But now I must turn inwards and find something else.
Yes, I am still being drawn in by that online course. And I get the irony of it, the way quotes from Lorca about the untameable nature of the Duende are being used to pull one towards its antithesis. If there are no maps and discipline does not help, what are a series of lectures going to do? Give you homework? Today is the last day to register : https://appliedjung.com/daimon-and-duende/
$390 isn't much really, but it is the kind of cash which could take me to places where I can find Duende and Daimon together, even supposing one can't do it at home.
My Daimon spoke here, and I know there is a kind of Duende in it (https://www.amazon.co.uk/Spiders-Bride-Debbie-Gallagher/dp/0809572117) Far from perfect, but I am still very proud of it.
I have not been able to return there because the world pulled me in to other things, fun exciting things, but this was what lay behind my door in the wall. I know that if I find that door again, going through I will find something else, another place. But how to get there? There is no map. And the world of people is inimical to how this works with me, though it is of great use in refining the raw and extending the story. I go away, write a bit, come back, make sense of it. Possibly.
A friend of mine has written a beautifully poetic and resonant piece about the traditions of Autumn and the Embertides, all old saints and wild carrots. It struck me, with that sense of dark moons and cold nights, of broths and quilts and needfires, the mythology of a lost land. I am delighted at my friend's magic, but I can love it and acknowledge that it is not mine,not quite. Towards the end of October and through November, that's when my quickening is, usually. In general, I work better in Winter, when there's nothing outside to lure me and I am driven inwards to Otherworld because Outerworld is saying 'Nope.' But I feel so little right now, only a kind of silence in myself, a strange need to sleep for a long time and only then, after that time of repose as deep as the root of a hill, to dream, right through until Christmas, maybe not even waking then,maybe not stirring at all until 12th night.
Outerworld has never been so like a fever dream right now, with people shouting and newspaper print smeared across every screen, it's like I close my eyes and the 30s are just right there, I can almost hear Moseley's prim little voice over a crackling wireless. These people are horrifying and dangerous. That's real. It feels almost as though I am being childish, neglectful, while all this is happening, a lotus eater lost in dreams of Lorca, Jeffers, Yeats.
I have involved myself in a couple of community projects, and I hope with all my heart that they work. Already there has been some resulting delight. That's wonderful, I love working with people to a good end.
But it's not the reality of who I am; neither daimon nor duende sound in it. I am glad to have been part of it. But now I must turn inwards and find something else.
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