Manuela Cardiga's Blog, page 82
December 29, 2013
THE JANUS DOORS
Let’s talk about doors.
People keep talking about closing doors, opening doors; but no one talks about the going through doors. The Romans considered crossing door-ways to be magical processes, hence the crossing with your right foot, carrying brides, sprinkling salt and things, bedecking door-jambs with herbs, etc. They even had a God for it. Guy called Janus.
The poor thing was bloody busy, let me tell you, and if being invoked every time some one traipsed in and out of a room wasn’t enough, they unloaded the New Year on the poor sucker. Not that he got much from all this labour. Oh no! Guys like Jupiter, with his thunderbolts, or that money-bags bitch Fortuna, or Mars with his prancing soldier-boys got all the attention and the big temples. Not to mention Venus! Sex always sells, and believe me, Venus was a big seller. She had loads of temples and eager followers frolicking about.
So what about Janus, I ask you? Janus got a month. That’s right. Janus got January. NOT parades, silken girls jiggling in the nude, or Virgins sworn to him; no returning conquerors burning incense on his altar in thanks for victories, no hordes of thankful accountants…
Janus got January and a few statues of a weirdo with two faces: one facing forward, one backward. Can you believe it? They had that poor Janus constantly looking down on his own bum. Is this gratitude? This was the Divinity that was invoked hundreds of times a day by each Roman. How many times do you cross doors? Move from room to another? From one phase of your life to the next? They went around muttering the poor sod’s name in vain ALL DAY!
Ah, but once a year, Janus came into his own…
That one day and night, the great Doorway leading from one Solar Year to the next was crossed. Then Janus ruled absolutely. Even the other Gods bowed down to him. On that day, humble Janus was the inheritor of the mighty Titan Chronos. He held the vicious sickle of Time in his hands. All must bow to him. Still, Janus was a humble God (spending eternity gazing down on your own rear-end teaches you humility, not to mention compassion) and wielded his absolute power with a gentle hand.
On Janus-day, New-Years Day they got a golden chance for new beginnings and so can we. We can look back with kindness on our own short-comings (as poor Janus on his own derriere…) and forward, ever forward into a new and dazzling horizon: a clean slate. Janus takes that Sickle and cuts us some major slack.
“Go forth and start anew. Take from the past only that which makes you strong: only love, joy, good memories. Leave all else behind. See? Here I cut the ugly clinging tentacles of past mistakes and pain from your ankles and set you free! Dance in that New Year!”
Being pagan had its up side and Janus was a good guy. I’d take his advice if I were you I do. I also intend to render up a series of libations to poor neglected Janus, in Champagne, of course.
For religious purposes only, I’m a VERY religious woman.
All Hail Janus!
Manuela Cardiga
May this New Year bring many fruitful crossings, may Janus bless your steps on your new beginnings and teach you to cast a kinder eye on past mistakes.
Happy New Year!
People keep talking about closing doors, opening doors; but no one talks about the going through doors. The Romans considered crossing door-ways to be magical processes, hence the crossing with your right foot, carrying brides, sprinkling salt and things, bedecking door-jambs with herbs, etc. They even had a God for it. Guy called Janus.
The poor thing was bloody busy, let me tell you, and if being invoked every time some one traipsed in and out of a room wasn’t enough, they unloaded the New Year on the poor sucker. Not that he got much from all this labour. Oh no! Guys like Jupiter, with his thunderbolts, or that money-bags bitch Fortuna, or Mars with his prancing soldier-boys got all the attention and the big temples. Not to mention Venus! Sex always sells, and believe me, Venus was a big seller. She had loads of temples and eager followers frolicking about.
So what about Janus, I ask you? Janus got a month. That’s right. Janus got January. NOT parades, silken girls jiggling in the nude, or Virgins sworn to him; no returning conquerors burning incense on his altar in thanks for victories, no hordes of thankful accountants…
Janus got January and a few statues of a weirdo with two faces: one facing forward, one backward. Can you believe it? They had that poor Janus constantly looking down on his own bum. Is this gratitude? This was the Divinity that was invoked hundreds of times a day by each Roman. How many times do you cross doors? Move from room to another? From one phase of your life to the next? They went around muttering the poor sod’s name in vain ALL DAY!
Ah, but once a year, Janus came into his own…
That one day and night, the great Doorway leading from one Solar Year to the next was crossed. Then Janus ruled absolutely. Even the other Gods bowed down to him. On that day, humble Janus was the inheritor of the mighty Titan Chronos. He held the vicious sickle of Time in his hands. All must bow to him. Still, Janus was a humble God (spending eternity gazing down on your own rear-end teaches you humility, not to mention compassion) and wielded his absolute power with a gentle hand.
On Janus-day, New-Years Day they got a golden chance for new beginnings and so can we. We can look back with kindness on our own short-comings (as poor Janus on his own derriere…) and forward, ever forward into a new and dazzling horizon: a clean slate. Janus takes that Sickle and cuts us some major slack.
“Go forth and start anew. Take from the past only that which makes you strong: only love, joy, good memories. Leave all else behind. See? Here I cut the ugly clinging tentacles of past mistakes and pain from your ankles and set you free! Dance in that New Year!”
Being pagan had its up side and Janus was a good guy. I’d take his advice if I were you I do. I also intend to render up a series of libations to poor neglected Janus, in Champagne, of course.
For religious purposes only, I’m a VERY religious woman.
All Hail Janus!
Manuela Cardiga
May this New Year bring many fruitful crossings, may Janus bless your steps on your new beginnings and teach you to cast a kinder eye on past mistakes.
Happy New Year!
December 26, 2013
RED LIPSTICK AND WAR BANNERS
The tumble rag-tag
Jumble of words
In my mind led me to find ´
An image, a voice
Lost in dust and dry time,
Alexander cried to his brother
As they faced Darius
Or some such potentate
Surfeit with power
And treasures of pleasure;
Some doe-eyed man
Rich in armies,
Silk-skinned as any girl.
Alexander cried
"Hold the center!"
And I heard.
So I may stand
White and thin-fingered,
Eyes dark-smudged with khol,
I may smile quite sweetly
And nod at you all,
But I am no soft thing
To yield sighs or tremble.
Whatever I may resemble,
Do not be deceived.
Should my loves call,
I will hold the centre;
What ever breaks
Whatever it takes
I am bone and stone
No soft thing to cry.
Should the very world Crumble along with my heart,
I will not hide nor die nor faint
If I step on some blood.
Though armies break
My lines do not fold.
I hold the centre.
Do you hear me Alexander?
I remembered:
Alexander cried "Hold"
So I hold.
Manuela Cardiga
Jumble of words
In my mind led me to find ´
An image, a voice
Lost in dust and dry time,
Alexander cried to his brother
As they faced Darius
Or some such potentate
Surfeit with power
And treasures of pleasure;
Some doe-eyed man
Rich in armies,
Silk-skinned as any girl.
Alexander cried
"Hold the center!"
And I heard.
So I may stand
White and thin-fingered,
Eyes dark-smudged with khol,
I may smile quite sweetly
And nod at you all,
But I am no soft thing
To yield sighs or tremble.
Whatever I may resemble,
Do not be deceived.
Should my loves call,
I will hold the centre;
What ever breaks
Whatever it takes
I am bone and stone
No soft thing to cry.
Should the very world Crumble along with my heart,
I will not hide nor die nor faint
If I step on some blood.
Though armies break
My lines do not fold.
I hold the centre.
Do you hear me Alexander?
I remembered:
Alexander cried "Hold"
So I hold.
Manuela Cardiga
CLEANING OUT FILES FROM THE HARD DRIVE
Unwrapping souvenirs tonight
I find such odd things.
Tags I chose to bind
To memories:
Frail sights,
Pungent scents,
And words that shape mouths
Rather than be shaped by them;
Slow motion moments,
A song that fit
(quite by chance)
Exactly as it should,
And another moment
So good, I know it will stand
Example of how motion
Can expand and steal
Devotion from God
And bind it to
Human emotion.
Manuela Cardiga
I find such odd things.
Tags I chose to bind
To memories:
Frail sights,
Pungent scents,
And words that shape mouths
Rather than be shaped by them;
Slow motion moments,
A song that fit
(quite by chance)
Exactly as it should,
And another moment
So good, I know it will stand
Example of how motion
Can expand and steal
Devotion from God
And bind it to
Human emotion.
Manuela Cardiga
TAKE THE FIRST STAR ON THE LEFT FLY STRAIGHT UNTIL MORNING
Life, alas, is not poetry-
Though there is poetry in life;
Nor yet tragedy, for such
Life cannot sustain:
Pain becomes a bore,
And boredom I abhore.
So let me have comedy,
Let me have farce,
Let me have my giggle
At whatever may tickle
My fancy while yet
I bide my time
Waiting for the plot
To thicken,
For the story I am living
To unfold and send in
The next surprise.
And in the mean while,
If all else fails,
(along wih a glass of wine)
Let me have satire,
Comedy's sharper sister
- and in truth much less kind:
But which has yet been
A good friend to me,
When a sharp tongue
And a quick wit
Has served me better
Than gentleness
In defending
My foolish pride.
Manuela Cardiga
Though there is poetry in life;
Nor yet tragedy, for such
Life cannot sustain:
Pain becomes a bore,
And boredom I abhore.
So let me have comedy,
Let me have farce,
Let me have my giggle
At whatever may tickle
My fancy while yet
I bide my time
Waiting for the plot
To thicken,
For the story I am living
To unfold and send in
The next surprise.
And in the mean while,
If all else fails,
(along wih a glass of wine)
Let me have satire,
Comedy's sharper sister
- and in truth much less kind:
But which has yet been
A good friend to me,
When a sharp tongue
And a quick wit
Has served me better
Than gentleness
In defending
My foolish pride.
Manuela Cardiga
December 25, 2013
THE TASTE OF ONE KISS
"Bonjour Monsieur Mouche!"
The chameleon
Shyly smiled
And rolled
A periscope eye.
She licked her lips
And the fly
Buzz-buzzing
And stuttering by
With its iridescent wings
Busily rubbing its
Black hairy legs
Back and forth
Back and forth
Paused and smiled
Right back
And flirtatiously
Rolled its own
Faceted eyes
"Buenos dias, Señorita!"
It cried and
The chameleon
Quick-flicked
Her sticky tongue
And swallowed
The poor fly whole.
"Why I'm just
That disappointed!"
She exclaimed
"All this time waiting to be kissed?"
She blushed vivid green
And pouted
Her turquoise mouth
"French kissed,
That was the thing!
And to find I missed
The French Connection
And all that was left was
One lousy Spanish Fly!"
Manuela Cardiga
The chameleon
Shyly smiled
And rolled
A periscope eye.
She licked her lips
And the fly
Buzz-buzzing
And stuttering by
With its iridescent wings
Busily rubbing its
Black hairy legs
Back and forth
Back and forth
Paused and smiled
Right back
And flirtatiously
Rolled its own
Faceted eyes
"Buenos dias, Señorita!"
It cried and
The chameleon
Quick-flicked
Her sticky tongue
And swallowed
The poor fly whole.
"Why I'm just
That disappointed!"
She exclaimed
"All this time waiting to be kissed?"
She blushed vivid green
And pouted
Her turquoise mouth
"French kissed,
That was the thing!
And to find I missed
The French Connection
And all that was left was
One lousy Spanish Fly!"
Manuela Cardiga
NIGHT'S CANDLES HAVE BURNT OUT
Dark trees bare
Of limb and spare,
Malevolent silhouettes
Of raised leprous hands
Scrabbling through
The crusted dirt
To rake pale-mottled
Skeletal fingers
At the dawn-stained sky.
Manuela Cardiga
Of limb and spare,
Malevolent silhouettes
Of raised leprous hands
Scrabbling through
The crusted dirt
To rake pale-mottled
Skeletal fingers
At the dawn-stained sky.
Manuela Cardiga
WHEN YOU WITCH UPON A STAR
I'm stirring my cauldron tonight
For the magical witches' brew
That makes things right;
The perfect mix for Longest Night.
So if you are travelling;
Soaring high on the wings
Of the World's Wind
Or skipping through the dog-eared
Collection of regrets
In the back of your mind?
Watch out, because you see,
I'm stirring my cauldron tonight
For the magical witches' brew
That makes things right;
And whatever you wish for
May just come to life
And bite you
On your unready behind...
Manuela Cardiga
For the magical witches' brew
That makes things right;
The perfect mix for Longest Night.
So if you are travelling;
Soaring high on the wings
Of the World's Wind
Or skipping through the dog-eared
Collection of regrets
In the back of your mind?
Watch out, because you see,
I'm stirring my cauldron tonight
For the magical witches' brew
That makes things right;
And whatever you wish for
May just come to life
And bite you
On your unready behind...
Manuela Cardiga
December 15, 2013
I WENT LOOKING FOR SHOES AND FOUND MY FEET
I went looking for shoes
That felt right:
Satin (bright red)
Or skin from dead
Crocodilian smiles,
I paid no mind.
I went looking for shoes
That combined
With the varying shades
Of my fickle mood
And flattered me the way
A good shoe should.
I went looking for shoes
To romance in,
And attend to business
More bitter than the
Transient flicker
Of love in my life.
I went looking for shoes
High stilettos
Or low mules,
Slippers with ribbons
Sandals with crystals or
Odd heels shaped like pistols.
I went looking for shoes
And looking down
Saw the odd delicacy
Of toes budding
And wiggling with delight
Grasping at the ground.
Like Frankenstein I exclaimed:
It's alive, alive!
I think the shoe-salesman cried...
Manuela Cardiga
That felt right:
Satin (bright red)
Or skin from dead
Crocodilian smiles,
I paid no mind.
I went looking for shoes
That combined
With the varying shades
Of my fickle mood
And flattered me the way
A good shoe should.
I went looking for shoes
To romance in,
And attend to business
More bitter than the
Transient flicker
Of love in my life.
I went looking for shoes
High stilettos
Or low mules,
Slippers with ribbons
Sandals with crystals or
Odd heels shaped like pistols.
I went looking for shoes
And looking down
Saw the odd delicacy
Of toes budding
And wiggling with delight
Grasping at the ground.
Like Frankenstein I exclaimed:
It's alive, alive!
I think the shoe-salesman cried...
Manuela Cardiga
December 14, 2013
GET OUT OF BED!
I can't help it.
I'm just not a pessimist.
I can't be. I love history and can clearly see the upward-turning curve on the feel-good graph for all of humanity.
That is RIGHT!
Things are not getting worse, they are getting better and better by the day.
YES, there are wars and hunger and murders and pain galore.
YES, we all feel helpless rage before the things we can't change.
BUT...Look back, if you please.
A hundred years ago the poverty levels were 5 times higher; most people lost a child in infancy to a myriad curable diseases; women faced childbirth as a life-threatening process; the life expectancy for the average man was in his mid-forties; most people could not read (and here I am talking about the Civilised West!); and expectations of personal happiness or achievement were scant; the technology that brings so much ease, safety and magic into our lives was no-where in sight. The pursuit of happiness we all peevishly proclaim as a RIGHT, was a dim fantastic flight of fancy - a Utopian dream. The truth is that the last one hundred years have brought more change and radical improvement into human lives than any other period in History. We have leap-frogged over thousands of years of stagnation straight into a roller-coaster of social evolution.
Now...
Ask yourself why we forget these things?
Turn on your TV.
Tell me what you see: blood, gore, despair.
Do some zapping. Tell me where you pause. Be honest with me.
What draws your eye, keeps your attention?
Blood, gore, despair. We see what we want to see.
Don't blame the TV. The Media is a business like any other. They give their customers what they want, what sells.
And what sells is blood, gore and despair. TV series about murder and monsters are what sells best. Oh the Romans had us pegged! We sit in the dim arena of our own lounges and greedily guzzle up the same fare, and if the blood we see is real? Oh the more we like it! We revel in the dark side. We buy into it.
But the light is shinning, people!
Brighter and brighter. We are on the edge of a fantastical age of magic and mystery!
For the first time in history technology and art are indistiguishable. We spent ten thousand years crawling in the mud, now we are learning to fly. Nation-hood and current forms of government are taking their very last breath. We are becoming a community of light, linked together by an invisible web.Our lives are changing, and we are changing our lives. Here, in this new and evolving society we choose what we accept, and we must take responsibility for what we seek out.
The magic is: what we imagine is what we become. Nothing is impossible. What we can emcompass with our minds can become real; so it's time to decide: do we take the old path? or do we look for the bright side? Do we look for affirmation in growth, awareness, kindness and love? or do we wallow once again in the confirmation of the seductive darkness feeding our pessimism? Is the picture you see of the world negative or positive? Black or full rainbow-bright? Please don't let the only colour you let into the dark-adapted eye colour the world the dirty red of blood.
Open your eyes, and choose carefully what you see; what you let into your mind and into your life, that is what will become your reality.
Wake up, open your eyes.
It's time to decide.
Manuela Cardiga
I'm just not a pessimist.
I can't be. I love history and can clearly see the upward-turning curve on the feel-good graph for all of humanity.
That is RIGHT!
Things are not getting worse, they are getting better and better by the day.
YES, there are wars and hunger and murders and pain galore.
YES, we all feel helpless rage before the things we can't change.
BUT...Look back, if you please.
A hundred years ago the poverty levels were 5 times higher; most people lost a child in infancy to a myriad curable diseases; women faced childbirth as a life-threatening process; the life expectancy for the average man was in his mid-forties; most people could not read (and here I am talking about the Civilised West!); and expectations of personal happiness or achievement were scant; the technology that brings so much ease, safety and magic into our lives was no-where in sight. The pursuit of happiness we all peevishly proclaim as a RIGHT, was a dim fantastic flight of fancy - a Utopian dream. The truth is that the last one hundred years have brought more change and radical improvement into human lives than any other period in History. We have leap-frogged over thousands of years of stagnation straight into a roller-coaster of social evolution.
Now...
Ask yourself why we forget these things?
Turn on your TV.
Tell me what you see: blood, gore, despair.
Do some zapping. Tell me where you pause. Be honest with me.
What draws your eye, keeps your attention?
Blood, gore, despair. We see what we want to see.
Don't blame the TV. The Media is a business like any other. They give their customers what they want, what sells.
And what sells is blood, gore and despair. TV series about murder and monsters are what sells best. Oh the Romans had us pegged! We sit in the dim arena of our own lounges and greedily guzzle up the same fare, and if the blood we see is real? Oh the more we like it! We revel in the dark side. We buy into it.
But the light is shinning, people!
Brighter and brighter. We are on the edge of a fantastical age of magic and mystery!
For the first time in history technology and art are indistiguishable. We spent ten thousand years crawling in the mud, now we are learning to fly. Nation-hood and current forms of government are taking their very last breath. We are becoming a community of light, linked together by an invisible web.Our lives are changing, and we are changing our lives. Here, in this new and evolving society we choose what we accept, and we must take responsibility for what we seek out.
The magic is: what we imagine is what we become. Nothing is impossible. What we can emcompass with our minds can become real; so it's time to decide: do we take the old path? or do we look for the bright side? Do we look for affirmation in growth, awareness, kindness and love? or do we wallow once again in the confirmation of the seductive darkness feeding our pessimism? Is the picture you see of the world negative or positive? Black or full rainbow-bright? Please don't let the only colour you let into the dark-adapted eye colour the world the dirty red of blood.
Open your eyes, and choose carefully what you see; what you let into your mind and into your life, that is what will become your reality.
Wake up, open your eyes.
It's time to decide.
Manuela Cardiga
December 13, 2013
How do we stop the killings?
Tell me how do we solve this?
People shoot other people which is bad enough, but suddenly,somehow it seems the favoured targets are children.
Why? I asked myself this, again and again.
Oh but then I saw the blank uncomprehending horror in the faces of the victims' families, and felt the echoing lurch in my own heart.
The violent death of children unarms us all, for we see ourselves bereft and dimly sense a vague shallow facsimile of what the parents experience.
That shadow pain is so intense as to leave us without defence or ability to keep a saving distance between what we witness and what we sense.
That instinctive outpouring of sick horror is what fuels these endless attacks. Our pain feeds the vampire killers; and inspires successive generations of murderers to greater and greater extremes of cruelty.
Tell me how do we fight this?
How do we starve the ambition of repulsive creatures latched on to our emotions? How do we put an end to the ravages of mediocre empty people whose only way to leave a mark is by branding unbearable loss across our hearts?
How can we fight when it is our own grief that empowers and inspires the killers to ever greater heights?
Manuela Cardiga
People shoot other people which is bad enough, but suddenly,somehow it seems the favoured targets are children.
Why? I asked myself this, again and again.
Oh but then I saw the blank uncomprehending horror in the faces of the victims' families, and felt the echoing lurch in my own heart.
The violent death of children unarms us all, for we see ourselves bereft and dimly sense a vague shallow facsimile of what the parents experience.
That shadow pain is so intense as to leave us without defence or ability to keep a saving distance between what we witness and what we sense.
That instinctive outpouring of sick horror is what fuels these endless attacks. Our pain feeds the vampire killers; and inspires successive generations of murderers to greater and greater extremes of cruelty.
Tell me how do we fight this?
How do we starve the ambition of repulsive creatures latched on to our emotions? How do we put an end to the ravages of mediocre empty people whose only way to leave a mark is by branding unbearable loss across our hearts?
How can we fight when it is our own grief that empowers and inspires the killers to ever greater heights?
Manuela Cardiga
