For me this came up after reading the beautiful, powerful poem 🙏:
A hurt mother that hurts her daughter. Something meant to be beautiful, has become ugly. The bloated seeds and roots are in a way difficult for me to grasp. What comes up is how the damage after abuse continues through generations - even if we are aware and see it.
I enjoyed hearing this interpretation, Caroline. For me, I think of the soil as toxic from generational patterns of scapegoating abuse; the seeds of this toxicity being spread within the earth; the transgenerational roots of trauma...But this was after the fact. I write my poems 'automatically' without thinking. I read them after to see what they said!
So do I! I have a couple one-liners that I wrote 10 years ago that I really didn't understand until now. As if the Universe game me fair warning.....but connecting the dots has come full circle to those two one-liners. I love it and they are probably the most meaningful of all my own poetry.
I look at it also as the soil, roots, seeds being wrought from the generational damages. And even if we are aware and see it - and end my own participation in it - the memories of a lifetime continue to stir the need to "air out" and heal.
Moving imagery, especially the bloated seeds with roots. It made me even more grateful that my mother did not spend a lot of time outdoors around our house, because that’s where I went to survive. Her power central was the kitchen and she had an intercom to my dad’s shop—where he went to survive.
Oh no - an intercom!! I remember finding solace in a tree in the backyard. I would climb very high to a comfortable branch and stay there for hours. I also hid in the closet, but that's another story for another time...(and not as comforting).
Me too—-loved the Modesto Ash—-then they cut it down—cause the roots were ruining the cement patio. Then they cut down the Chinese Elm in the front too. 😢
My mom took an axe to my beloved willow tree (not the one I sat in but still, I felt very close to it). It was like watching the murder of a friend. I was 4 years old. I wept and begged her to stop. Her face was red and sweaty and I imagined in my mind's eye she was chopping the axe at my father. In 'reality', the roots were likely interfering with the plumbing. And to think she had nobody to help her or could not afford to hire anyone to help. I still believe I have PTSD from watching that willow tree be chopped down. Later, a poet friend of mine told me that the willow tree symbolizes poetry. It was like my soul was being hacked away...Dramatic - but true.
Oh that is so sad. I would feel that too. There came a time when i realized as a teen that i couldn’t cut down a beautiful living tree in the wild, just to bring home for Christmas - a free short weeks then throw it away. I remember in college buying a Charlie Brown tree with three uneven branches and loving it for its last days.
So sorry about your tree. I witnessed my childhood piano being ripped out of our basement in pieces on a day when I returned home as an adult after years of living far away.
Very compelling words Rebecca. Reminds me of my experience of being attacked with a smear campaign while in cancer treatment, and how FSA lies easily take root and the poison spreads.
Willful unconsciousness can be a form of evil. Egoic pride; an inability to be accountable for harms done - all magnifies the poisonous roots that spread out, affecting and impacting generations to come.
Rebecca, I am wonder...how is something both willful and unconscious? I seek understanding because these two words sound mutually exclusive in my way of thinking. What am I missing? Please offer guidance.
Those words: "It's all in your head." ...spoken by an adult to a child, strike me now as total gaslighting in a pithy shut-out that invalidates and confuses the child. I needed guidance and clarity to understand the truth about myself, others and how to live in the real world.
But then....none of us can give what we do not have.
The healing journey of transformation comes from the One True and Living God who is my help and the Maker of heaven and earth.
For me this came up after reading the beautiful, powerful poem 🙏:
A hurt mother that hurts her daughter. Something meant to be beautiful, has become ugly. The bloated seeds and roots are in a way difficult for me to grasp. What comes up is how the damage after abuse continues through generations - even if we are aware and see it.
I enjoyed hearing this interpretation, Caroline. For me, I think of the soil as toxic from generational patterns of scapegoating abuse; the seeds of this toxicity being spread within the earth; the transgenerational roots of trauma...But this was after the fact. I write my poems 'automatically' without thinking. I read them after to see what they said!
Yes I do the same - I write what comes through me 🌿. Wonderful Rebecca 🙏
So do I! I have a couple one-liners that I wrote 10 years ago that I really didn't understand until now. As if the Universe game me fair warning.....but connecting the dots has come full circle to those two one-liners. I love it and they are probably the most meaningful of all my own poetry.
I look at it also as the soil, roots, seeds being wrought from the generational damages. And even if we are aware and see it - and end my own participation in it - the memories of a lifetime continue to stir the need to "air out" and heal.
Moving imagery, especially the bloated seeds with roots. It made me even more grateful that my mother did not spend a lot of time outdoors around our house, because that’s where I went to survive. Her power central was the kitchen and she had an intercom to my dad’s shop—where he went to survive.
Oh no - an intercom!! I remember finding solace in a tree in the backyard. I would climb very high to a comfortable branch and stay there for hours. I also hid in the closet, but that's another story for another time...(and not as comforting).
Me too—-loved the Modesto Ash—-then they cut it down—cause the roots were ruining the cement patio. Then they cut down the Chinese Elm in the front too. 😢
My mom took an axe to my beloved willow tree (not the one I sat in but still, I felt very close to it). It was like watching the murder of a friend. I was 4 years old. I wept and begged her to stop. Her face was red and sweaty and I imagined in my mind's eye she was chopping the axe at my father. In 'reality', the roots were likely interfering with the plumbing. And to think she had nobody to help her or could not afford to hire anyone to help. I still believe I have PTSD from watching that willow tree be chopped down. Later, a poet friend of mine told me that the willow tree symbolizes poetry. It was like my soul was being hacked away...Dramatic - but true.
😢
Oh that is so sad. I would feel that too. There came a time when i realized as a teen that i couldn’t cut down a beautiful living tree in the wild, just to bring home for Christmas - a free short weeks then throw it away. I remember in college buying a Charlie Brown tree with three uneven branches and loving it for its last days.
So sorry about your tree. I witnessed my childhood piano being ripped out of our basement in pieces on a day when I returned home as an adult after years of living far away.
Very compelling words Rebecca. Reminds me of my experience of being attacked with a smear campaign while in cancer treatment, and how FSA lies easily take root and the poison spreads.
Yes, and that so often this is a poison residing deep within the soil, contaminating the roots of the family system via transgenerational trauma.
So Sorry Rosalee 😢.
So sorry. Hugs to you.
Thank you & hugs back 🙏
stunning
Thank you.
I’ve recently been thinking about the evil of my parents being tentacles, growing, and reaching far into the soil around them.
Willful unconsciousness can be a form of evil. Egoic pride; an inability to be accountable for harms done - all magnifies the poisonous roots that spread out, affecting and impacting generations to come.
Rebecca, I am wonder...how is something both willful and unconscious? I seek understanding because these two words sound mutually exclusive in my way of thinking. What am I missing? Please offer guidance.
Haunting and eerie! Thank you for sharing!
PS the image is so good!
Thanks, Aun - I have great fun creating AI collaborative images for my posts here on The Inviolate Self!
Beautiful! My sister, also wounded, as she clings to her role as protector of family secrets.
Yes - their wounding may not be as overt of obvious - but it is invariably there. And thanks!
Those words: "It's all in your head." ...spoken by an adult to a child, strike me now as total gaslighting in a pithy shut-out that invalidates and confuses the child. I needed guidance and clarity to understand the truth about myself, others and how to live in the real world.
But then....none of us can give what we do not have.
The healing journey of transformation comes from the One True and Living God who is my help and the Maker of heaven and earth.