Thursday, 29 March 2018

Day 3 Concrete/Preserved Society-And the missing Link

Hopefully this won't end up too convoluted and overly complicated

Another train of thought to this idea I'm developing about society (Generalizing a lot at moment)

That the mainstream, work-a-day world.  The structured pavements and physical/mental routes we take each day, could benefit a lot from the wild card.

The Joker card in pack just gets discarded.

 I'm all about the initiatives like Time to Change, to talk about mental health/illness/conditions and experiences.

To normalize mental and emotion conditions to understand, share individual perspectives is the way to overcome stigma .

I think mental illness (although I don't like to define these experiences as illness) is a huge part of the human condition, that is set upon with the goal to be cured and eradicated.  Although people need to be helped to elevate suffering, but there is a lot to learn that could benefit society.

I'm thinking of this much vilified aspect of the human condition as a bit of a stereo type at the moment as the Joker Card which I need to research much more has significance of the Jester, trickster the Fool.  I think belongs to the shadow archetype. 

Not as a way of defining individual mental health issues.  But just to define an aspect of societies culture and mental health that is often rejected, mythologized /demonized and marginalized.

I think reclaiming the part of us that is disordered, chaotic and all that is what we need.

I'm thinking of the Joker Card archetype as the missing link or rejected aspect of the self in the Collective Unconscious

Like Seal's Song says

"we are never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy"

I think this song is about the benefits of being a bit crazy in an overly "sane" world.  Sane in the sense of maintaining control and functioning.  I think this mentality on a collective scale has swung way to the extreme.

I've been reading on and off The Sane Society by Erich Fromm.


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Van Gogh portraits

Sz Icon

Sz Icon

St Dymhna as shaman

St Dymhna as shaman

A story by Izzy

Live Forever

Once upon a time, in a place far far away, there lived a beautiful and spirited woman, who was like a wild flower.

Her hair contained the most incredible dreams and wonderful magic spells, from the most beautiful parts of the earth and from the edges of the solar system.

The wind of the East fell deeply in love with her and played through her lovely locks, it became such that she could command the weather.

One day the wind spoke to the smoke of her cigarette and told it to cling to each and every strand of her beautiful hair.
The cigarette smoke obeyed the wind and saturated through everyone of the golden threads and began to decay from within.

The bright sunshine of her days began to grow dimmer and colder and she was dragged deep under ground and was sent to Whitchurch Castle in the clouds.

Here she battled tooth and nail with demons and dragons. Spoke with angels and had untold adventures with good and evil.

The beautiful dreams that dwelt in her hair, turned into terrifying nightmares.

She went to the well to wash her hair, but the water would not cleanse or renew it. The sun refused to shine upon it and the saddest of all, the wind no longer wanted to play with it.

So the young woman by this time, had become a princess, scraped back her beloved hair into a ponytail and the gold sunshine began to grow out, taking her dreams and magic spells with it.

The Castle keepers were worried about her and so gave her a magic potion to rid the evil smoke that had claim of her hair.
An eternity came and went and she grew older.

One clear day the smoke had finally gone once and for all.

She was banished from the kingdom of Whitchurch and was now expected to toil the fields with the good men and women of the outside world.

She was now mortal and pined for the Easterly wind to play with her again, but he no longer loved her.

One cold morning, she had an idea to attract him back to her, so she sat at her mirror and plaited her hair into strands and put coloured ribbon on the ends to bind them.
Would he notice her again?

With her hair plaited, he would see a string of golden tears that she cried over missing him so much.

Now she lives in a little hut in the village and has worn her hair in plaits for 2,000 years.

One day she hopes it will be unravelled, when he remembers where he left his sunny days and warm nights with her on the moon.
The End

Illustration for story Live Forever

Illustration for story Live Forever
This is a drawing of the character in a story I wrote for a digital story telling course with the Four Winds

Bay Girls

Bay Girls
This is a drawing of two of my neighbours

Zippo face warmers

Zippo face warmers