Resurrection

Resurrection
CC Jean Stimmell 2015

Days of pain after my operation unhinged spasms of activity.

For no good reasons, I took my camera outside

and took shots of the richly textured leaves

of our 12’ tall, Mammoth Sunflowers.

Then I found myself using the sunflowers

as a stage to introduce new objects,

like the pelvis and backbone

of a winter-killed deer

that our hound dog

had carted home.

When I processed the images in my digital darkroom,

one photograph, in particular, jumped out at me:

The composition was dynamic

and embraced the ALL:

Death and Rebirth

Yin and Yang.

Looking more closely, I exclaimed, “oh my god,

it looks like Jesus on the Cross.”

At that very instant I knew

 what the title must be:
RESURRECTION.

Raven myth is my reality

CC Jean Stimmell

It’s funny how Raven has come to me in times of danger and spiritual need.  Raven first appeared to me over 10 years ago at the end of a vision quest while I sat on a ridge bordering a chasm in the deep woods far behind my house. Raven, perched unknown to me at the top of the tree I was sitting under, squawked, thus revealing herself for the first time. I nearly dismissed her as an hallucination. 

Around seven years ago, Raven reappeared after I was first diagnosed with melanoma cancer which the doctors feared had metastasized – but it turned out surgery was able to catch it in time.  

Again this Spring I blogged about being being visited by Raven, circling around my yard, looking for carrion and I told her I wasn’t ready to go yet. ^⁠1Two months later I was diagnosed with prostate cancer 

Then last week, Raven beckoned again from the tall tree by my house: Raven squawked and I answered. She flew in a circle above my head and flew off to the west.

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Over the years I have made art featuring ravens. One image is featured above, a photo montage of two of my photographs: A Raven taken on a beach in Point Reyes California superimposed onto a Cape Cod beach at sunset in which I have replaced the the raven’s eye with the setting sun.

Recently I got a different take on my intuitive pairing of Raven with the sun after wandering into a Native American gift shop in Portsmouth. I was immediately drawn to a miniature raven carved from stone which captured her trickster nature because of what looked like a stolen berry she was carrying in her beak. 

I felt a kinship with this little sculpture and decided to buy it as a good omen for my upcoming operation. When I went to pay for it, the owner told me Raven carried, not a stolen berry in her beak but the sun itself. She asked if I knew the mythological story of Raven and the Sun – which I did not. Here is one version:

“For the traditional story of "Raven Steals the Sun/Light", it is difficult to say where the origins of this myth are, but there are many variations and versions of this story up and down the west coast of North America [as well as in the Midwest and the East]…It is central to the Northwest Indian's spiritual beliefs. Just as western religion suggests that the world was void of light in the beginning, so too does this.”

“In many versions Raven steals the Sun from the Old Man who had hidden it away to keep for himself, thus returning the Sun to the Sky and to the People who have been in the dark for a long time.”^⁠2 

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Raven is my spiritual animal in all her aspects, both as a trickster and a benevolent transformer who helps people and shapes their world for them. Certainly, Raven has always been there for me when I needed her most.

Best yet, I know Raven is not here just for me but to rescue all us two-legged ones from the Old Man who has conquered our world again, pretending this time to be our savior when, in fact, he is the agent of colonialism, patriarchy, and capitalism.

The reality of our situation resides in myth: the Old Man is still the greedy thief, stealing the Sun, plunging the people back into oppression and darkness. Luckily, Raven is here to return the sun back to the sky and to we, the People, who have been in the dark for too long.

xxx

My Apocalypse

CC Jean Stimmell

The Apocalypse is what I’ve named my photograph, taken at Fort Foster in Maine back on October of 2011

Looking up the word apocalypse just now, I discover that its original meaning in Greek is “uncovering.” Wikipedia goes on to say that this uncovering is a disclosure of knowledge, i.e., a lifting of the veil or revelation that can be received through either a dream or vision.

My revelation was a pure vision provoked by Gaia lifting her veil in an atmospheric display so beyond the pale that it rocked my entire being, right down to my shaking knees: an ecstatic feeling of awe at becoming – for that brief instant– one with all, merging with Her swirling, eternal dance of creation.

 My vision was indeed pure, uncontaminated by the newer meaning of “apocalypse” which has come to haunt us thanks to John’s revelation in the Bible: his moralistic prediction of the ultimate victory of good over evil which can only happen when the world ends. 

Unfortunately, John’s revelation of the end time, spooky as it is, may well come to pass for us humans and many of our fellow living beings as a result of our attempt to play God, resulting in catastrophic climate change.

Nun in Shining Armor Revisited

Nun in Shining Armor Reconfigured
CC Jean Stimmell: 7/13/15

My vivid dream I blogged about over two years ago(see Nun in Shining Armor), still reverberates in my psyche. Last week, relying totally on intuition, I reworked my dream image of the nun and found myself substituting my own photograph when I was a baby for the original infant image.

Here is what I wrote about my dream in my original blog:

I dreamed last night that I am wandering in a dark cave without beginning or end.  Empty, feeling neither sorrow or joy, I stumble upon what appears to be a statue bathed in light, perhaps a knight in shining armor. But, coming closer, I see a Buddhist nun, tears streaming down her face, cradling her dead baby.  In her grief, she is majestic: fiercer than any warrior, more authentic than the Buddha. 

During my dream I fully aware that I am receiving an important message but, despite my best efforts, I cannot pull together the various threads to interpret what it means. Looking back on it in the light of day, I see the nun as my guide, sent to lead me to the gate of real faith: that flesh-and-blood imperative, that ultimate attachment that lifts us out of void and makes us truly human: passion, resiliency, and love.

xxx

More Proof that Gaia is Divine

Water Lilly Pad on Jenness Pond
CC Jean Stimmell

Water Lilly Pads 

swamped by the choppy waves

serenaded by rumbling thunder

in the shimmering humid air

of this July late afternoon

grounded by their long stems

to the squishy mud below

each a resplendent individual

parading her unique design

more proof that Gaia is divine

Descending into Anima's Mysteries to Liberate my Little Girl

Seaside Seance
CC Jean Stimmell: 2013

My photograph taken in this surreal ocean setting, still speaks to me, taking me back to a dream I once had where I rescued a cute, little girl from an abusive household. While we waited in the yard for a social worker to come and drive the little girl to a safe house, I tried to comfort her, telling her that she didn’t need to worry anymore, that where she was going was safe and she had nothing more to fear. I hugged her goodbye when her ride came and then started walking alone down an old dirt road, wracked in sobs.

Now years later, as I learn to interpret my dreams and marvel at the synchronicity of the world, I think that innocent little girl isn’t just a figment of a dream but someone who, in a very real sense, lives within me, neglected and marginalized by what has been my overly rational, competitive, and obsessive ego. Shamefully, I realize that over my life I’ve been as bad at taking care of my little girl as the abusive parents in my dream.

Since my little girl and I can’t be separated, I want to find a safe house for us both. And I hope that  through my long odyssey toward reconciliation, our destination in now within sight– if only I could stop resisting by daring to trust the universe and surrender to the here-and-now, a state of being beautifully expressed by Danna Faulds:

All you ever longed for is before you in this moment

If you dare draw in a Breath and whisper “Yes.”^⁠[i]

The key is “letting go,” so poignantly portrayed by the little girl on the beach in my photographic image, and expressed wonderfully in words by another Danna Faulds poem, this one symbolically awash with the transformational power of submitting to the healing powers of Anima, surrendering to the eternal rhythms of the sea:

Let go of the ways you thought life would unfold:

the holding of plans or dreams or expectations – Let it all go. 
Save your strength to swim with the tide.

The choice to fight what is here before you now will

only result in struggle, fear, and desperate attempts

to flee from the very energy you long for. Let go.

Let it all go and flow with the grace that washes

through your days whether you received it gently

or with all your quills raised to defend against invaders.

Take this on faith; the mind may never find the

explanations that it seeks, but you will move forward

nonetheless. Let go, and the wave’s crest will carry

you to unknown shores, beyond your wildest dreams

or destinations. Let it all go and find the place of

rest and peace, and certain transformation.[ii]

xxx

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[i] Verse by Danna Faulds. I found it in Tara Brach’s book, True Refuge: Finding Peace and Freedom in Your Own Awakened Heart (p. 73).

[ii] Danna Faulds poem quoted from http://rachelwcole.com/2011/04/13/let-it-go-from-danna-faulds/

Dreaming the Photograph

A photograph of Cannon Beach Oregon from 9/9/13
CC Jean Stimmell

A dream I had on 9/13/14

Walking along the shore trying to find access to the ocean

when at last a run-down state park appears on my right.

I pass through an overgrown field of rubble and old tires

and come to a gate in an old rusty chain link fence:

Passing through, I come to the ocean,

a sandy beach shelving off steeply into swirling surf...

Large luminous waves crest and break as they near shore

 which would normally lure me to jump in and body surf

but this whole scene seems ominous and treacherous 

so i gingerly wade out in the surf just to my ankles 

when I am grabbed by an immense undertow

which I have to fight with all my might

 to escape back to solid ground.

An interpretation of my dream:

The stale, dry overgrown world of the intellect

counting how many angels can dance on a pin

is no a longer a fulfilling prospect for me.

Yet having the courage to descend down 

to immerse myself in Anima's mystery

in the moist waters of the unconscious

and raw emotions is still very scary to me