Witchy-me?

Hey Mags,

Guess what - I still have Brigid.  She is missing an arm, treatment from my brood, but otherwise intact.  I think I still have the arm, and someday I will have her repaired.  I would also love to make her some new dresses.  Someday.  I'm regressing into my childhood.  I think I will pass her on to a granddaughter.  Someday.  I have no idea how to decide which of the born or possible unborn girls to choose...we'll see what happens!

Where do the words you focus your meditation on come from - an internal guide or an external one?

Petrified.  I like the word.  It does describe the feeling of being scared stiff perfectly.  And it is a way to mineralize what was alive.  Another aspect that came to mind is that nothing lasts forever.  But once something is petrified, it does last for a very long time.  And I have seen some pieces of petrified wood that are astoundingly beautiful.  You can see the layers, the circles of life.  Sometimes petrification can preserve beauty for a long, long time.

The story of Lot's wife also comes to mind.  She looks back, against God's will, and is turned into a pillar of salt.  Was she petrified?  Is petrification, or the threat of, a method of assuring obedience?  

I read a story once of a hawk diving and grabbing a cat and soaring back into the sky.  Prey species freeze and submit once captured.  They are petrified.  Unfortunately for this hawk, a cat is a fellow predator.  The cat started to struggle.  The hawk was shocked and dropped the cat, who was never quite the same again.

But I think you are onto something when you connect petrified with your concrete male.

Concrete male - like a man who refuses to budge, is so sure he is right that he can not be flexible or forgiving or welcoming...Sound familiar? 

Still thinking about Rapunzel.  I've been trying to identify my inner witch.  She kept her greens behind a wall - she would not/could not share.  And if someone needed something she had, and could spare, she still demanded a high price in return....like your child.  She kept the child for herself only.  Was she wicked or was she so afraid of poverty - of food, of love, of life - that she could not release?  Is this part of me?  I give my time.  I give what little I have...but I don't give my trust or my heart.  Am I being the witch by withholding self?  And in the end, although the witch was less isolated once she had Rapunzel, a child...her child?...she was still isolated, and she forced the child into isolation.  Both were isolated.

The prince frees Rapunzel, but not the witch, and we leave her behind because she is evil and not worth our concern.  More damage.

I will continue pulling this apart.  Let me know if you recognize me.  Please.  I think.

Love and smoochies,

Clare