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Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway
It is because I dove into the abyss that I am beginning to love the abyss I am made of.
Clarice Lispector; “The Passion According to G.H.” (translated by Ronald W. Sousa)
Yes, I am the cause of the fire inside me,the fuel that burns and the flame that lights it.
Ovid, Metamorphoses (via
icarusinthelabyrinth
)
Now she shines [ ] like the rose-fingered moon rising after sundown, erasing all stars around her, and pouring light equally across the salt sea and over densely flowered fields lucent under dew.
Sappho, excerpt of To Atthis (tr. by Willis Barnstone)
We only live, only suspire Consumed by either fire or fire.
T. S. Eliot, from “Four Quartets,” The Complete Poems & Plays of T.S.Eliot (Faber & Faber Poetry, 2004)
Red Poppy
The great thing is not having a mind. Feelings: oh, I have those; they govern me. I have a lord in heaven called the sun, and open for him, showing him the fire of my own heart, fire like his presence. What could such glory be if not a heart? Oh my brothers and sisters, were you like me once, long ago, before you were human? Did you permit yourselves to open once, who would never open again? Because in truth I am speaking now the way you do. I speak because I am shattered.
-Louise Gluck
So for your arrogance and your ruthlessness I have lost the earth and the flowers of the earth, […] At least I have the flowers of myself, and my thoughts, no god can take that;
Eurydice, H.D. (via lavnderlesbian)
from a gardener & a psychologist
1. people associate depression with abjection, a kind of mental shapelessness. in truth, at its most dysphoric, depression is seismic, surprisingly precise in its violence.
2. someone on the outside of this shattering can’t perceive the full velocity of its push. what is accessible to them is mostly an aftermath.
3. it is often not about the presence of sadness as much as it is the inability to enter the psychological/emotional spectra without guilt.
4. that is what goes unspoken in therapy : guilt. depression is powered by some infinite fount of guilt around and about basics of sustenance.
5. during the worst of my phases, i feel guilty about eating, speaking, sleeping, staying awake. everything. my whole presence disintegrates.
6. you are trying - flailing, failing - to establish contact with something inside of you that is disembodied, essential and impervious.
7. you can’t commit to which time you can best belong to while you are completely drowning in the vastness of hours. the past reoccurs, seems too colossal to surmount. the future is a prolonged blur. a depressive state erases the possibility of any present tense.
8. following up on what gayatri c. spivak says - at the bottom is the right to refuse. if we were to consider that any autonomy is indirectly linked to choose through refusal of certain states, actions, ideas then depression takes hostage this ability to refuse. (also : inter-generational trauma, choice v/s will, determinism etc)
9. you can’t get out of the bed, out of the relentless need for dark, withered spaces because the exteriority becomes a wide mirror for translating the feint of learned helplessness, the inward slant of “ i shouldn’t be here or anywhere else.” my head in the dark drowning reinvents the world outside as an inevitable flood.
10. thus : presence, bodywork, introduction to fresher energies, voices, touch, hands, offerings of other, better mirrors.
She used to say that love would haunt me whereas I was all about haunting myself since the very beginning.
Anne Sexton, from A Self-Portrait in Letters (via watchoutforintellect)
I am troubled and harsh and hopeless. Though I have love inside me. But I don’t know how to use love. Sometimes it scratches like barbs.
Clarice Lispector, tr. by Elizabeth Lowe, from Água Viva / The Stream of Life (via weltenwellen)
And I gain a lucidity that leaves me grandiose for no reason. I am fabulous and useless, I am made of pure gold. And almost psychic.
Clarice Lispector, from Complete Stories; “Brasília” (via neuseks)
Excerpt of poem by JR ROGUE
Repeated exposure to traumatic anxiety forecloses the transitional space, kills the symbolic activity of creative imagination, and replaces it with what Winnicott calls “fantasying” (Winnicott 1971). Fantasying is a dissociated state, which is neither imagination nor living in external reality, but a kind of melancholic self-soothing compromise which goes on forever - a defensive use of the imagination in the service of anxiety avoidance … this self-soothing really amounts to a self-hypnotic spell - an unconscious undertow into non-differentiation to escape conscious feeling. Here a retreat into ‘oneness’ replaces the hard work of separation necessary for ‘wholeness.’ This is not regression as we like to think of it in the service of the ego, but “malignant regression” – regression which suspends a part of her in an auto-hypnotic twilight state in order (so her diabolical figure thinks) to assure the survival of herself as a human person.“
The Inner World of Trauma, Kalsched 1996 (via masterofminds)
"PHONE FLASH" section of Kera magazine from 2001-2003, via yourfashionarchive
Nancy Spero. Artemis, Goddess and Centaur, 1983.
hand-printing on paper
Paul Winstanley Faith (After Saenredam), 2016 oil and gold leaf on gesso on panel 28.3 x 26 inches